There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts and Harry was quite sure they all wanted to make it difficult for the first years to make it to class on time. Everything seemed to move, the people and animals in all the portraits, the coats of armour, and even the walls themselves.

Hindering them also was the fact that it usually seemed like most of the older students felt it was beneath them to notice first years who were trying to manoeuvre through the dense crowds in unfamiliar corridors. The fact that Harry was the smallest boy in his year only compounded his problems. He and Ron had been nearly run over five times that morning by much larger students. It all made the simple business of arriving to class on time seem quite daunting first thing in the morning. By now, Harry and Ron should have been in Transfiguration, but instead they were racing up stairways to nowhere. The stairs they were presently riding had led to nothing but a blank, stone wall.

"Unbelievable! We're late now for sure!" Ron said as they raced back down the staircase in a desperate attempt to find their way to class. It was true—they were late. There were no more students lingering the corridors.

From her stern appearance at the Sorting, Harry was pretty sure Professor McGonagall wasn't a teacher to cross. Plus, she was his Head of House. He really didn't want to be late for her class.

"Come on, I think it might be this way, Ron!" Harry said with much more confidence than he felt.

As he blindly turned down the nearest corridor, Harry sped up into a jog. Unfortunately, as he turned back to see if Ron was still behind him, suddenly Harry wondered how he had missed the stone wall he had just ran into. Falling backward, arms pin-wheeling in the air, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable impact with the stone floor.

But his collision with the floor never occurred. The sensation of his backwards free-fall ceased when Harry felt a very large hand grab his shoulder and fixed him upright. Harry's eyes flew open wide and his panic was renewed when he found himself staring into the black depths of Professor Snape's eyes. He hadn't run into a wall—he blindly smacked straight into a giant bat.

Harry looked up at the dark, mysterious professor. There was something about his quiet and menacing manner that Harry found even scarier than any of Uncle Vernon's enraged ranting. Fred and George had explained all about how evil Professor Snape was, and how he liked to set Gryffindor firsties detentions with Mr Filtch so they could be hung by chains along the dungeon walls for all of this Slytherins to take the mickey out of.

Harry gasped and winced slightly waiting for the expected punishment from the feared teacher, but like his fall, it too never came. To Harry's astonishment, Professor Snape's reaction was hardly a mild rebuke.

"Mr Potter," Professor Snape said calmly, as he released Harry's shoulders. "If I am not mistaken, your first class this morning is Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, is it not? Why aren't you there?"

Harry wondered if he looked as gormless as he felt. How did Professor Snape know his schedule? Perhaps Fred and George were right—Professor Snape really did read minds.

"I...I...yes, sir," Harry stammered.

Harry had never heard the Professor speak before. To his surprise, it was kind of a nice voice. Sort of deep and soft, like the voice he would hear in his dreams where his Dad was still alive and would tell him reassuring bedtime stories to keep the demons away—like in Dudley's story time videos that Harry would listen to through his cupboard door when he was very little. It was quite different from his Uncle and Aunt who seemed to always find some excuse to bellow and screech at Harry.

However, because his usual dealings with adults rarely ended in his favour, Harry remained wary and took a tentative step back from Professor Snape's dark and imposing figure. He looked behind his shoulder in hopes of finding any witnesses should the Potions Master turn him into a newt and sighed with relief when he noticed that Ron had finally caught up with him. His ginger-haired friend paled, causing his freckles to stand out in stark relief… so much for Gryffindor bravery.

"Ah, Mr Weasley...another wayward Gryffindor, I see."

Harry put his hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle as Ron struggled for something to say that wouldn't get him in anymore trouble.

"Follow me. I'll never hear the end of it if I allow two of Professor McGonagall's precious lions fall victim to Peeves. The nuisance managed to get his slimly little hands on a Fanged Frisbee. I suspect a couple of Weasley's are behind it," Professor Snape said darkly. The professor gave Ron a sinister glare and Harry thought his poor friend might just pass out.

Harry and Ron were both waiting for some form of torturous punishment that should have belonged to Fred and George to befall them, but instead, Professor Snape turned away so quickly, Harry and Ron just stood there and dumbly blinked as the professor's black robes billowed in his wake.

"Well?" Professor Snape snapped without ever looking back.

Harry and Ron ran to catch up with the dark figure. They turned the corner where at least a dozen suites of armour stood at attention on either side of them. They hadn't taken two steps when Professor Snape halted suddenly, causing Harry to nearly run into him again. His eye's narrowed as if sensing something that Harry and Ron could not. The imposing professor had somehow pulled his wand so quickly from his robes, Harry hadn't even seen him move. He lowered his free hand and gestured for Harry and Ron to stay close behind.

Then, the oddest thing happened. Far down the corridor, the face mask of one of the suits of armour slowly opened and a strange lime-green disk emerged from it. It hovered menacingly for what seemed like forever before it suddenly flew at lightning-fast speed straight for them. Harry and Ron both gasped, because without warning, the flying disk started snarling and gnashing sharp teeth.

Professor Snape easily stepped to one side as the disk flew past, keeping Harry and Ron safely behind his back. As the disk whizzed by in a green blur, Professor Snape raised his wand and in a flash, it exploded into a sparkling, green cloud and fizzled away.

"Peeves, show yourself this instant," Professor Snape said forcefully.

An unseen someone blew a loud raspberry and the same suit of armour the Frisbee appeared from and clattered to the floor in a heap.

"Very well, I'll have a word with the Bloody Baron."

Suddenly there was a sharp pop, like a cork coming out of a bottle of fizzy drink, and a very strange looking, small man appeared floating in the air just in front the professor.

"Ooooh!" he said with a wicked cackle as he looked over Professor Snape's shoulder. The strange man skirted past the professor and began circling so low over Harry and Ron's heads, they had to duck. "What's this? A little, itty, bitty Snivelly, I see. "

"I'm not snivelly!" Harry protested loudly as he boldly shook his fist at the phantasm.

"Neither am I!" Ron said just as fiercely.

"Enough!" Snape hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Harry wasn't sure if Professor Snape was angry at him or the ghost-man. "Peeves, if you don't leave now, I'll have the Bloody Baron dogging your every move until Judgment Day."

At the threat, Peeves stopped his incessant circling and gave Professor Snape a two-fingered salute before he zoomed away in the opposite direction.

"Sir, was that a ghost?" Harry asked as he and Ron ran to catch up with Snape, who started striding down the corridor again without warning.

"No, Peeves is a poltergeist," Professor Snape replied, stowing his wand back into the folds of his cloak. "A poltergeist set on creating chaos and mayhem." He looked down at Harry and Ron as they continued to struggle keeping up with his long strides. "If you ever find yourself alone in a face to face confrontation with Peeves, simply threaten him with the Bloody Baron. He'll leave you alone quickly enough."

Harry wasn't exactly sure what the difference between a ghost and a poltergeist was, but since it really wasn't going to keep him up at nights, he decided to let it go.

"But the Bloody Baron is the Slytherin ghost, sir," Ron said timidly. "He won't help us. We're Gryffindors."

"The Baron will answer to whomever I tell him to," Professor Snape said ambiguously. Harry and Ron looked at each other with astonishment. What on earth did that mean? Harry was beginning to wonder if this really was Professor Snape. Maybe he got his professors mixed up, because although this teacher seemed stern, he didn't seem like the evil bat that every other Gryffindor had described.

"Sir…what do you teach?" Harry asked, feeling pretty confident he wouldn't end up in Professor Snape's cauldron now.

"Potions," the professor said curtly. "Fortunately for you and Mr Weasley, my Seventh-year NEWTS don't begin for another hour. How you two managed to be halfway across the castle from your destination is beyond me."

So this really was Professor Snape. Now Harry was really confused and knew that Ron must be doubly so. From his very limited experience with the dour professor Harry was certain he wouldn't end up in detention so he decided to actually answer. "We're sorry, sir. Ron and I overslept. By the time we were ready everyone but the older students were gone and they looked like they didn't want to be bothered."

"Yeah, so we ended up asking one of the portraits," Ron added.

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed. A funny little line formed between them. "Which portrait?"

"I'm not rightly sure, sir," Harry admitted as he looked at Ron who only shrugged back at him. "He said his name was Sir Cardigan, but he was moving around from painting to painting. So we don't know where he came from."

Professor Snape stopped suddenly and the oddest, confused look came over his face. "Sir Cardig…? Do you mean Sir Cadogan?"

Harry nodded. "That's him."

Harry wasn't sure if Professor Snape was going to laugh or spit, but in the end he just said, "Word to the wise, Mr Potter—Mr Weasley, Sir Cadogan's sanity is questionable at best. Next time, ask an older student. I'm sure they won't bite, even if they are Gryffindors."

Professor Snape resumed their quest to find Professor McGonagall's classroom, Harry heard Snape mumble something he was certain wasn't meant for his young ears. "Bloody oil stain's a menace."

Harry and his friend continued to follow the teacher down three floors, zigging and zagging so many different way through the halls, Harry was quite positive he would never learn his way around the enormous castle.

Finally, they arrived outside the door of what Harry presumed to be the Transfiguration classroom, Professor Snape unceremoniously jerked the door open and ushered them into the room. Just as they stepped across the threshold, a grey tabby cat that had been sitting atop a desk on the front dais gracefully jumped and turned into Professor McGonagall mid-leap.

"Wow!" Harry and Ron said in unison, thoroughly impressed.

Professor Snape merely smirked and arched an eyebrow at the display. "I see you're still performing the same party tricks you did twenty years ago," Snape commented dryly. "I believe you are missing two of your lions. I found these two lost and had it not been for my timely arrival, they would have been utterly at the mercy of Peeves. I think you should better prepare your first years, Professor McGonagall."

At that point, Harry didn't know who was the scarier of the two teachers, Snape or McGonagall. For some reason Professor Snape seemed to be angry with Harry's Head of House and she seemed equally as cross that Professor Snape had criticized her in front of the entire class. Neither professor seemed like one to be trifled with.

Professor McGonagall frowned with her lips pursed tightly as his she were trying to hold something back. "Thank you, Professor Snape," she said tersely. "I'll see to Potter and Weasley from here." Her eyes moved over them, seeming to settle on Harry longer than Ron and Harry couldn't help but squirm under her scrutiny.

"I trust that you two can find your seats without much difficulty."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry and Ron said in unison once again. They scuttled quickly to the two remaining empty seats. As the potions teacher turned to exit the classroom, Harry heard Professor McGonagall speak again.

"Sever...Professor Snape, if you don't mind, would you join me in my office later for tea?" Harry was sure by her tone, it wasn't just a request.

Professor Snape merely nodded his agreement as he swept out of the room. The interaction caused a low murmur of disbelief and speculation to ripple across the room.

Fortune had smiled on Severus that day. By happy coincidence his regular office hours were first thing in the morning that day. Rather than go over the same lesson plans he had taught year after year, he decided to take a stroll. If that stroll happened to take him past the Transfiguration corridor, then so be it.

He purposely sat next to Minerva that morning at breakfast as the Deputy Headmistress always reviewed the timetables of her First-years one final time before she distributed them. A silent Confundus to distract her attention right about the time she came across the mid-Ps was all he needed to steal a glance at Harry's schedule. Severus supposed he could have simply have asked Albus for a copy, but where was the fun in that? It served her right anyway. If she continued to cut Severus furtive little glances, he would have had to hex out her eyes. That would not have boded well for his continued employment.

Severus watched carefully as small groups of children found their way to Minerva's classroom, circling wide berths around him as if he were carrying Dragon Pox. Not that it mattered to Severus. He didn't care much for children. Oh…he didn't hate them, but he didn't rightly like them either. He was pondering the paradox of being a teacher with no love of children when he noticed that the crowds were thinning and there had still been no sign of Harry Potter. It was then that he began to worry.

He finally enlisted the help of a couple of portraits that informed him that Harry and his friend were on the opposite end of the castle and making their way to the Hall of Armour, the favourite haunt of Peeves the Poltergeist. Severus took a shortcut via a secret staircase and arrived just in time to stumble across Harry—almost quite literally—when the boy took a header into Severus' celiac plexus. Harry and the current-youngest Weasley kit had been running late as they were set astray by that bloody Sir Cadogan. That waste of piss and pigment couldn't find is way around his own painting, much less find his way around the castle. It was a shame that the secret stairway was actually a secret, otherwise he could have avoided leading the children down Peeves' favourite haunt.

Severus sighed as he continued his wool-gathering and his trek to Minerva's office. He knew perfectly well what this meeting was about. She too, had obviously made the connection between Severus and Harry and the old-cat couldn't leave well-enough alone. Perhaps he should have hexed her eyes out at breakfast?

The Transfiguration classroom was empty, just as all of the classrooms were. With the exception of extracurricular activities and Astronomy, lessons were over for the day and most students were on their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

He hated being called to her office like this. Severus knew it wasn't a request to share tea, but rather an order to explain himself. Rather like that time in Fourth-year when Sirius Black mysteriously sprouted an asses tail in McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. Severus tried to explain that he was simply practicing his wand movement when the spell accidentally erupted. It wasn't his fault that Black was in the line of fire. Minerva didn't buy it for a second. Bugger!

Severus crossed the classroom floor, feeling as though he were marching to a funeral dirge. When he reached the door, he stood up straight and gathered his composure. He wasn't Professor McGonagall's student anymore. He was an adult and Minerva's colleague. He convinced himself that he had nothing to fear as he knocked confidently on the door.

"Come in, Severus."

Severus blew out a hard breath before entered. He knew that voice. This was not going to be a pleasant tea.

"Minerva," Severus said evenly as he sat himself in the empty chair across from her desk. "You wished to see me?"

Minerva played mother and poured him a cup of tea as a plate of sandwiches popped on to the desk. Her face was set tighter than the bun on her head. Severus took the offered tea and a Marmite and cheese sandwich. He really didn't feel like eating. His stomach was flopping about as if he had swallowed a live fish. But he needed to have something handy to cram down his throat if the conversation went south. He could get away with more insults than many of his fellow professors, but there was a limit to everything.

"Yes, Severus, there is something—or rather, someone I want to discuss with you," Minerva said as she settled back into her chair with a cup of tea in hand.

Severus casually blew on his tea before taking a sip. "Would you care to enlighten me or would you rather play guessing games?"

Minerva placed her cup on the table and it clattered lightly. "You've always appreciated candour, so I'll be blunt—Did you know?"

Severus took a bite of his sandwich and swallowed it down hard. He had to take another sip of tea to keep from choking on it.

"Did I know what, Minerva? That Peeves was lying in ambush? That Albus wears mismatched socks? That the Boy Who Lived bears a striking resemblance to Hogwarts' current Potions Master? Do tell—which one of the mysteries do you need an answer to?"

Minerva rubbed her forehead as if nursing a growing headache. "Severus, will you please be serious. I must admit, I was up most of the night fretting over this. I was convinced that I must be losing my senses."

"Don't worry," Severus said then tossed his head back as he finished off his tea. "We aren't carting you off to a care home, yet."

Minerva reached over the table and Severus handed her his cup. "You hardly sound reassuring," she said as she refilled his cup. She opened up a drawer and pulled out a flask. She showed it to Severus and he nodded. Minerva added a splash of the brown liquor to his cup and then twice as much to hers.

"But to answer your question—no—I did not know about Harry until last night."

Minerva seemed to sigh with relief. "Severus, I nearly fell over when little Harry came up to be sorted," she admitted. Minerva sipped her tea, and Severus noticed how she braced herself with the liquid courage. "I saw that same face walk into the Great Hall twenty years ago, and I am not referring to James Potter. Now either Albus has created a concoction to change the boy's appearance for some deep game that is beyond me or you are the boy's father."

From the sound of her voice, Severus was sure that Minerva considered her latter suggestion an impossibility and she only meant to tease him.

Severus again slowly drank his tea, taking comfort from the slow burn that trickled down his throat. He never bothered to answer Minerva verbally, but only gave her a meaningful look. It didn't take long for Minerva to decipher it.

"Severus! What did you do to poor Lily?" Minerva gasped, clutching at her chest.

Severus levelled a dagger-like stare in the Transfiguration teacher's direction, "We had sex, as that is generally how these things are done."

"But...how can that be? Lily would have never...Did that that monster make you…?"

"Of course not!" Severus bellowed as he rose from his chair. "I assure you it was quite consensual. Do you honestly think that I could…that I would…rape Lily?" He could literally taste is bile in the last words.

Without knowing how, Severus found himself staring out Minerva's window. There were a group of Gryffindors gathering in the court yard followed by some curious Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Young Mr Thomas must be a Muggle-born. He had placed a Muggle football on the ground and seemed to be instructing his friends on the particulars of the game. Severus smiled inside when he noticed Harry amongst them.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Minerva said. She was standing just behind his shoulder. "I know you and Lily were thick as thieves for years. I assumed you had a falling out over your…associations. I know she loved James deeply, so I won't pretend that I understand."

"She did love…him… deeply. But his missions for the Order took him away for weeks at a time with no word. And I'm sorry to destroy your saccharine notions of the sainted Potters, but they were human…and Lily was often lonely."

"You had a love affair," Minerva stated stoically, obviously hurt by Lily's betrayal of Potter.

Severus nodded; glad that he wasn't facing Minerva so she could see his pain. "I'll spare you the details, but it was only the one time…a moment of weakness for the both of us that Lily instantly regretted. She and Potter were not yet married, but they were engaged."

"How are you going to tell him?"

Funny that Minerva knew Severus so well. He wasn't one-hundred percent certain that Harry was his, but he knew he would find out. And what if his suspicions were true? He didn't know if he should tell Harry, but somehow he knew he would.

As he looked out the window Harry had managed to score a goal against the opposing team that seemed to be captained by none other than Mr Thomas. Harry basked in the praise and cheers of his friends and Severus felt a sense of pride he had never experienced before. He had no legal or scientific proof that Harry was his yet, but he found himself desperately hoping it was true. Harry would be his proof, that if only for a short time, Lily's heart had belonged to Severus and he could live happily on that for the rest of his life.

"Severus?"

Minerva had startled him from his musings. "I'm sorry. What did you say, Minerva?"

"I asked, how are you going to tell him."

Severus breathed deeply and tore himself away from the window. "I'm not sure yet. First, I need to find a way to confirm that he is mine."