Severus had hoped things would improve.

He finally gave in, after many more restless nights and struggles with the screaming child, to follow Molly's advice. He sat at the kitchen table during the afternoon, almost a week since he had finalised the adoption of Harry, and worked on a schedule for the boy to follow. He used a few recommendations from Molly, as she knew more about child development at Harry's age, and what times would be suitable for things like bedtime, naps, and meals. She had experience in raising children, whereas Severus only knew the curfew and other important times for eleven-year-olds and above.

'Whatcha do'in, Daddy?' Harry wondered.

He climbed onto the seat beside Severus, and looked over at the large chart of sturdy parchment where he would be writing the new routine. It was going to be stuck in the living room, but Severus was still drafting it on a piece of parchment.

'I'm creating your new schedule.' Severus answered. 'You will be following it every day, which shall ensure you go to bed at the same time very night, among other necessities.'

'I don't want a sked'yule.' Harry frowned and crossed his arms in a pout.

'And I do not want to tolerate your whining.' Severus scowled. 'Life isn't fair.'

'You're no fair, Daddy!' Harry argued back.

It was one of the reasons Severus realised Molly was right about requiring a set time for everything the boy did. Until now, Harry often fell asleep during the day if he got tired, but without it he was extremely cranky. He needed a time reserved every day for a nap - yet another thing Severus had learned about three-year-olds.

'Harry, go and play in your room.' Severus was not in the mood to deal with the brat right now, as he had to get the schedule finished before dinner. He still had several timeslots to be filled, and the boy was breaking his previously comfortable focus.

'I don't wanna.' Harry insisted. 'I'm bored, Daddy. Come play with me.'

'No.' Severus answered firmly. 'I am busy. Perhaps Percy will play with you?'

'He locked the door.' Harry grumbled.

'Then he too wishes to be left alone.' Severus was already on the edge of his temper and didn't understand why the child had to be so difficult all the time. 'Maybe one of your other uncles want to play with you?' He already knew Ginny couldn't, as she was once again visiting the Lovegoods and their eldest daughter Luna.

'Uncle Fred and Uncle George are fly'in.' Harry evidentially tried to find something to occupy his time before he'd sought out his constantly reluctant father. 'Uncle Ron is too. Grama is in the shed with Granpa, and I'm not 'llowed to go in there.'

'Finally, an instruction you obey.' Severus muttered sarcastically. 'I too am occupied with a far more important task than stacking blocks. I insist you leave me in peace!'

'But I'm bored!' Harry whined and stomped his foot. 'You're always busy!'

'Harry!' Severus snapped and turned to glare at the irritating child. 'I am tired of your whining and disobedience. I cannot play with you every moment of the day.'

His tone was louder than he intended, but Severus had reached his wit's end and could take it no more.

'For once, will you do as you're told? Go. Away!' He said harshly.

Harry was halted in his tracks, his eyes filled with tears and hurt, as his father said those things to him.

All he wanted was someone to play with him, or give him something to do. Everyone else was busy. Harry thought his daddy was really smart and could find something. He only had a couple of books and a few toys, after all. But his daddy didn't help him. Instead, he'd shouted and said mean things. Didn't his daddy love him at all? Harry didn't think so anymore because his daddy never had time for him, unless he was annoyed so much he had to.

That didn't work now, and Harry didn't know how to get his dad's attention without making the man angry.

Ducking his head, fists clenched to his side, Harry's hurt boiled to anger as he glared at his father in retaliation. Severus would not have noticed, if the boy hadn't said anything or if a plate nearby didn't burst from the boy's unexpectedly strong magic.

'I HATE you!' Harry screamed at his dad, tears sliding down his red cheeks.

Another plate exploded.

'You're a bully. I don't want a daddy anymore! You're mean!' With that, the little boy's sadness took over in the form of sobs, and Harry turned to flee the room.

Severus sat there, shocked by the display, and could not deny he had been hurt by the outburst of words. Harry hating him was not necessarily something new, at least not from their former life, yet Severus felt the sting from it this time around.

Even if eleven-year-old Harry had never said such words to him.

He didn't think he'd ever bullied the child, just told the brat to leave him alone and do as he was told. Why was Harry acting out so much, all the time, but more to Severus than anyone else? He'd seen Harry with Molly, and the boy was quite well-behaved. Harry listened to her and didn't scream or throw things like he did with Severus. In fact, he got along with every other Weasley in the house apart from Severus. Ron was reluctant and often said the wrong things, and even he had more luck than the child's own father.

Crushing his guilt the best he could, Severus lowered his gaze to the schedule and forced himself to believe Harry was only tired and angry he couldn't get his way. He was behaving like a spoiled brat - that's what was wrong. A spoiled brat, just like James Potter.

Severus finished the schedule and cast a sticking charm to place the chart on the designated living room wall, where it could be seen from the kitchen. Finishing with a few protective charms, Severus' thoughts went back to the angry child who had given him nothing but a headache in the last few weeks.

Hearing a crashing sound above, Severus cussed to himself and stormed up the stairs. Percy opened his door the moment Severus reached their landing.

'It's the boy.' He told his younger brother. 'He appears to be throwing a tantrum.' Severus growled.

Percy decided to stay out of it, and retreated back inside the bedroom.

Severus threw open the door of Harry's room and snarled when he saw the child throwing things in the room. Luckily, the boy had limited belongings, as a shopping trip had not yet been scheduled to buy him more items and decorate his bedroom. Severus did not think the child earned such a privilege and stubbornly dismissed every argument Molly threw at him.

'Harry Liam, stop that this instant!' Severus shouted over the noise the small child was making.

Harry threw books against the walls, kicked his train under the bed, and began tossing his wooden blocks at Severus.

Casting a shielding charm between himself and the boy, Severus could not believe how destructive and angry the three-year-old had become over something as small as boredom and not getting all the attention he wanted.

'Go away!' Harry screamed, using the same words Severus had against him. 'I hate you!' He said again, throwing another block and not noticing it bounce away from his dad before it could have hit him.

'I HATE YOU!' The boy bellowed.

Severus could not take it any longer.

He could not contain the building rage he had pushed down every day Harry ran from him, whined about something, or bluntly did nothing he was supposed to. He tried to make an effort, Severus really did, but now all he saw was an insolent brat with Potter's spoiled attitude.

In the back of his fury-driven mind, Severus had just enough grip on himself to know he had to leave the room right away. He feared hurting the child, like Tobias did, and didn't trust himself to be in the same room as Harry right now - not when the boy was behaving this way. He would have shouted himself hoarse, and perhaps given the boy a hard smack as well.

He would never allow himself to do that, so Severus turned on his heels and strode out of the room. He knew Percy was next door, and therefore cared nothing for marching right out of the house.

He passed Molly along the way, who was startled by the absolute loathing on his face.

-- 

Severus kept walking - all the way up onto the hill where he had once stood in the rain to face Fate, on the day Harry had woken.

He stood there, looking over at the hills where everything seemed so calm and undisturbed. He was angry. Beyond furious, actually. Severus could not be the father to a child he was beginning to honestly hate. Every effort he made to be the boy's parent was met with opposition. Things started out well enough, but over time Harry was less satisfied with anything and it was Severus he always expressed his disagreement towards.

Severus didn't know what he was doing wrong, yet it reached the point where he didn't care anymore. The child was a brat, and he had no idea how to change that. At Hogwarts he'd glared, scolded, taken points, and given detentions - even then it usually only delayed the boy from causing more trouble.

Harry wasn't eleven now; he was three. Severus had no experience with such a young child, and he didn't know why Harry was acting out the way he was. He had considered asking Molly, who had proven to be a well of parenting knowledge, but Severus was too determined to work it out on his own without help.

He didn't want to admit he couldn't handle a single three-year-old child.

Severus sank to his knees on the grass, looking at the natural green tone of the hill, and wondered where his Slytherin cunning was now. His composure was as lacking as Fate had told him it would be. She'd said it would stop him from holding back, but Severus doubted she realised how easily he reacted in anger if he didn't grasp it. He did not handle a lack of control well, and Severus was scared. He was fearful of lashing out at the child, and that he wouldn't be able to overcome this nerve-grating challenge.

Somehow, under all of his anger and helplessness to fix the situation, Severus felt defeated. He loved Lily. Severus gave the impression it was an awful duty to protect her only son; the child she'd given her life for. When the child came to Hogwarts, he thought Harry was all Potter apart from his eyes.

After being de-aged, Severus held onto a small hope that the boy would wake and show more of his mother's genes. And when the boy's eyes opened, the emerald of Lily was gone. Even after all that, Severus was told by fate that the boy was more his son now, and he was Lily's son, which he had to realise without the green eyes shining into his own. Now, with his confused and inexperienced efforts resulting only in outbursts and screaming, Harry hated him.

Lily's son hated him.

Severus thought it was all worthwhile, to have lost Lily and his former life, if it meant he could at least raise her boy as his own son. He was never a man to give up, or he'd have died many times over in the past, but hearing the little boy shout his hatred for Severus was a heavy cut in the heart.

Harry was all Severus had left of a girl who had been his best friend, and grown into the woman he loved, and the boy hated him. He fought Severus at every turn - the man was left with no knowledge to guide him, no potions to alter things, no new spell to fix the situation, and no mentor to advise him through these troubling times.

He had nothing.

Much like the scared child he himself had once been, Severus felt completely alone in his efforts towards something wonderful...It always ended sourly.

Maybe if Fate hadn't used her magic, things would have been different. She said it was a do-over, but Severus thought it was worse than ever. At least, back then, Harry only glared and occasionally back-talked, while Severus kept his composure and handled the situation with a rational mind and practised skill. The skills which had saved him from Voldemort, and Azkaban, which had given him a job and a place to live, and enabled him to progress instead of spinning in confusion, unable to cope with a world he was mostly despised by. His situation had been familiar, comfortable, and he could tolerate it - Severus knew his purpose and did not allow himself to give in.

Fate said she was helping him, giving him a second chance, and Severus believed she'd made a terrible mistake. Why did people always have to meddle? Why can't they just leave things well enough alone?

'Fate!' Severus called out.

He left the hill to wander further away from the Burrow so his shouts would not trail to any of the other Weasleys.

'Are you pleased now? Is this working out how you planned?' He growled. 'The boy hates me, and you call this a second chance?'

No answer.

Severus, emotionally exhausted, sat on the grass and glared into the distance. He knew he couldn't stay there all night, but Severus could not find the will to return to the house where the boy was probably ripping the sheets off the bed by now.

There was a sensation of magic in the air, and a gentle breeze blew at Severus' hair. The man slowly rose to his feet when he heard a strange sound.

Looking around, he saw a boy standing a few feet from him. The child looked like eleven-year-old Harry Potter, except his clothes were far too big for him, and he was sad. The child stared at the ground, being almost transparent, as the hills faded into dark mist - which surrounded himself and Severus in every direction.

Severus, on edge and cautious, deemed this to be Fate's doing. She hadn't appeared herself, yet the magic felt similar. He didn't know what was going on, but it was almost a relief when the child looked up with his Lily-like emerald eyes.

'I'm still here.' The memory-Harry said. 'Every night, when I sleep, I dream of my memories. Every night, when I'm asleep, I know who I am and how I used to live. Every morning, when I wake up as three-years-old, it's all gone. Sometimes, just sometimes, I am haunted too. Just like you are.' His voice was quiet and miserable.

'You are not real.' Severus said. 'You're merely a memory. Fate, this is your doing, isn't it?' He called for her, but only the child in front of him answered.

'Yes, I am a memory.' He nodded. 'But you haven't figured it out yet. Memories are the most important thing in the whole world. Without them, we don't learn from our mistakes, or find motivation to keep going if we can't recall where we've been. You got a second chance, you really did, and your memories hold you back. You have them, though, when I don't, because you need them. You need to remember your childhood. If you weren't still hurt by what your father did to you then you might have hit me today. I'm a memory now, but my three-year-old self...'

Severus did understand why Fate had chosen for him to retain his memories now.

It was unsettling to be told these things by a sad eleven-year-old boy; the same child the brat back at the house had once been. In a strange way, Severus found himself missing this child - the young wizard he'd watched be sorted into Gryffindor, who had taken his Potions class every Friday, and who he had given detentions to on countless occasions.

'Without our memories, we don't know what it's like to be loved forever. Or hated every day for reasons we don't understand.' Memory-Harry continued. 'You've asked yourself why my three-year-old self behaves so angrily, and so rebelliously? It's because he doesn't have me.'

His tone reduced to a whisper.

'I am the memories of Harry Potter. If he had me, I think you would find the situation to be very different. He would almost never talk to you, and certainly not argue back. He wouldn't throw things, or dare act in such a loudly offensive manner like he is now. He would go to bed when he was told, right away, and he would follow every other command you give him.'

'Then why must I retain my memories while the brat has none?' Severus growled, wanting those described things to be true; that the brat would obey and not be so irksome.

'Because a three-year-old cannot handle eleven years of me.' Memory-Harry sighed. 'He wakes every morning thinking he'd dreamed of climbing towers of blocks as big as Hogwarts, or running from green beans that want to eat him. If he had me, his memories, then he'd be having nightmares of his mother screaming, accompanied by a flash of green light.'

Severus halted at those words, horrified the child even recalled Lily's death. Harry had been right there, inches from her, when it happened, but Severus never imagined the toddler might have remembered it. He had prayed Harry had been too young, and therefore his toddler memories had faded over time.

'Did you try to understand my three-year-old self, or just stop him from annoying you?'

Memory-Harry looked irritated now, which was a reflection of his former self.

'Fate told you I have a good reason to also deserve the do-over you have been given. My three-year-old self could never tell you because he doesn't have his memories. Without them, he's confused and frustrated.' Memory-Harry explained. 'He can do things he doesn't remember learning, he feels he shouldn't need help for certain activities he somehow struggles with, and he has no idea why instincts make him not want to do something he thinks he should do.'

'He shall adapt.' Severus said. 'It has only been several weeks. I trust, then, that things will improve?'

'No.' Memory-Harry shook his head. 'It'll only get worse, until you see what you've missed this entire time. You were too busy in the past, looking for James Potter, to find Lily or Harry. Now you're repeating your mistake. Your memories remind you what you've suffered, and you take betrayal very personally because of it, which is why you hold onto your grudges. A wise wizard once said: “To hold an eternal grudge or extract revenge is a poison meant for others.” You need to let go.' He said, and quickly interrupted when Severus opened his mouth to object.

'No, don't saying anything. I know it won't be nice. You need to not comment or judge right now. You need to listen. Just listen, and I'll tell you.'

'Tell me what?' Severus narrowed his eyes, looking around at the mist when he felt a peculiar magic shifting within it, though it otherwise didn't appear to change.

'By the time you realise on your own it will be too late.' Memory-Harry sighed. 'I don't want to tell you, but I have to. I am just memories, and I have no power or hold on my three-year-old self. You still think he's a brat, someone who was spoiled in the past and can only be trouble now because of it. I promise, neither he nor I hate you. Not even a little.'

Severus hadn't moved, yet he felt mildly unbalanced. The mist swirled and darkened all around them. Memory-Harry didn't react to it. Severus squinted in attempt to catch glimpses of a few flashes of images in the mist. He saw a house, the same as so many in the street, and thought of Spinner's End. It was gone in a flash, and he saw a cupboard under some stairs, where a woman was knocking on its door.

Suddenly, a sound burst through the mist and startled him.

“Up! Get up!” She screeched. “Now!”

'My aunt.' Harry provided a name to the man's confusion. 'That's her waking me, as she did every morning at sunrise. I had to cook dinner for the Dursleys while they ignored me. If I was lucky, I got more than a single piece of toast or a bit of egg. Maybe even a strip of bacon. They didn't starve me, not exactly, but I was never allowed as much as I liked or needed.' Memory-Harry said. 'My bedroom...'

A flash of the cupboard was shown again, though this time the door was open. Severus stood there in shock when he had a clear view of the tiny space. He saw the camp bed, the tiny assortment of broken toys, a discarded book, an aged apple in a corner, and a crayon inscription reading “Harry's Room”.

As he stared, a six-year-old Harry Potter walked inside it and sat down. He was dressed in over-large clothes, and his hair was as messy as always. His glasses were wrapped in tape, as they had evidentially been broken a few times, at the section resting on the boy's nose. The boy was trying not to cry.

Watching the reformed mist, Severus could hear the boy's soft sobs sounding innocently heartbroken. It was followed by the sharp tones of Petunia, deep growls of Vernon, and mocking laughter of Dudley. Severus caught a glimpse of each of their faces as Memory-Harry told him their names. He heard, but not saw, various things the boy had to hear throughout his childhood with his uncaring relatives.

Petunia only acknowledged her young nephew a few times, though usually only to unkindly warn him not to burn the breakfast, to get his filth out of her clean house, or to hurry up with his work. Severus despise her even more than when he'd been a child and lived nearby her.

Vernon's words were similar, but much more constant. Severus cringed at the loud and angry tones as they reminded him heavily of his father. Vernon was always snapping at Harry to go faster, and get out of sight, or warning him time and time again not to mess something up. It was often followed by threats of going without meals or being locked in the cupboard for long lengths of time.

He saw brief sights of Harry, being obedient each time. It told the story of a sad and lonely orphaned boy Severus had assumed to be doted on, and allowed to get away with anything under the coddling care of his relatives.

'On my seventh birthday, I was stuck in my cupboard all afternoon.' Memory-Harry told him, looking at his hand where he now held a fresh red apple. 'This was my present. I remember savouring it at lunch time. Mrs Figg, a lady who lived nearby, had given it to me in the morning. It was right before my relatives got home from a short trip to the countryside.'

Severus looked at the fruit as well, remembering three-year-old Harry loving apples in any form. Was this why? Did he have a feeling of fondness for the fruit even without the memories to accompany it?

'They wouldn't let me have my Hogwarts letter.' Memory-Harry continued. 'I never knew the truth until Hagrid told me, after my aunt called me and my mum a freak. I'd grown up thinking my dad was a drunk who caused a car crash, which had killed my parents and given my the scar.' He brushed his hand against his hair-concealed forehead, the apple now gone. 'Hagrid told me I was a wizard. He told me about how my parents died. I never knew what I did was magic. I was told there was something wrong with me, and I was just freaky.'

Severus felt a terrible guilt and unexpected shock to hearing details regarding the real life of Harry Potter.

Mostly, he could only listen to the memories and hear the occasional cry or harshness. He rarely saw anything, except the one solid memory that surfaced for him to view, which was difficult to endure. It was only a memory, but when he watched eight-year-old Harry run from his fat cousin, and some other boys Dudley's age, in a game of “Harry Hunting”, Severus wanted to shield the child and hex the bullies. They reminded him of the Marauders.

Except, the Marauders had pranked him and called him horrendous names - only once or twice had they ever actually punched him or caused great pain.

Severus watched the boy raise his hands to protect his face from the multiple oncoming punches of his own cousin. It was a sickening sight for the formally bullied and mistreated Severus, who could relate to Harry Potter in ways he never deemed imaginable or possible.

'I was usually faster.' Memory-Harry sighed, as the view faded. 'When I was two, I used to follow my aunt around the house and ask her to play with me.'

Severus heard the voice of a small child doing exactly that. He was polite, though a bit hard to understand with his young age, and not at all as bothersome as the three-year-old Severus had been dealing with for the last few weeks.

'My aunt was very angry when I told her I loved her. She acted as though I had sworn at her or something. She shouted at me to get out of her sight and never bother her again. She'd slapped me, in one of the few moments she did, though it was only against my hand. I was also hungry and wanted a cookie, but she'd made them for Dudley and no one else.'

Memory-Harry looked downwards, a cookie sitting in his hand crumbled to dust and swirled to become part of the mist. Severus glanced at the mist and was reminded of a penseive.

'There is something I wanted you to know.' Memory-Harry said, taking a step forward. Appearing on the “ground” beneath them was a book. It was a schoolbook of the boy's, with “Potions” scrawled on the front.

Severus somehow regained his ability to control a portion of his composure, up until now - when the sight of the book made him very emotional. Everything to this point had been about the Dursleys shunning their nephew and giving him barely enough to survive, and no love at all. Severus knew what was coming was going to relate to him and to the boy's time at Hogwarts.

He didn't want to see or hear any of it.

He looked up and saw a faded glimpse of the eleven-year-old Gryffindor seated in the Potions classroom. Severus wondered if this was the first lesson he'd had with the boy, when he'd asked him questions the child would have had to memorise his textbook to know. It wasn't. The class began and Severus quickly noticed it was from sometime in November. Harry was trying to brew his potion, but kept getting frustrated and nervous.

It was all he saw, but Memory-Harry explained.

'It didn't make any sense to me, the potion. I read over the textbook, but it was no use.' He said, reminding Severus of Percy for a moment. 'My potion was the wrong colour, and I couldn't fix it. Hermione offered to help, but I wouldn't let her. I figured you'd know and we'd lose points for it. I wanted to do it on my own.'

“Potter.” Came his own memory-voice. Severus didn't like the sound of it, and couldn't believe it was the tone he'd used constantly against an eleven-year-old child. He tried to defend his actions in his mind, but they were less of reasons now than excuses.

He felt ashamed and hateful towards himself.

“Another zero, it seems.” Said his voice from the past, sounding pleased to fail the boy - who Severus now knew had been trying to fix his potion, and actually wanted to do well in the subject if he could.

'Go ahead.' Memory-Harry said, seeing Severus stare down at the book again. 'You should have a look.'

Severus, surprised by how solid the item was when it should just be a memory, picked up the child's book and flipped through it carefully. He took in everything he could make out, passing pages and pages of notes Severus didn't remember asking the first years to copy down. He always had less expectations than that. But Harry's book was loaded with notes, and most of it was things Severus had merely told the class.

It dated all the way back to the first lesson, when he'd been scolded for “not paying attention”.

'Most of the time, I never said anything.' Memory-Harry sighed. 'I couldn't. You'd take points or give me a detention. Besides, the Dursleys taught me it was best to keep quiet.'

Severus continued perusing the book, thinking shamefully that his father had educated him on the exact same thing. Silence didn't save him, but it made harsh moments less likely to escalate.

'My book hadn't helped me that lesson.' Memory-Harry added. 'I couldn't find a solution, and I knew better than to ask. Never ask questions – that was the first rule of the Dursley household, and I knew you weren't like the other Professors.' He said.

'I returned to my brewing, and did the best I could with what I had. I believe it was barely passable when I was finished. Not that it mattered to you.'

Severus understood - the boy wasn't in Gryffindor for being bold and reckless, he was there for having the courage to do what he had to in order to survive. Severus had done the same, yet he'd gone to Slytherin for his ambition and self-preservation. He wanted to overcome and be more than he was, whereas Harry just wanted to do what was right and be content with who he was.

'The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, actually.' Memory-Harry said when the mist swirled around them once again, though no images or sounds emerged this time.

Severus closed the book, resting his palm against its surface as gently as he could.

He felt terrible. 

Almost as awful as he had when he'd apparated to Godric's Hollow on the fateful night and saw the hole in the house - not knowing the outcome, but fearing the worse. In that incident, much like now, he realised he was to blame in a part for the scenario that frightened him. Then he'd realised no favour of the Dark Lord was worth what could have happened.

Such as, no grudge he'd held against the surviving child was worth putting the boy through more than he'd already endured. Severus felt three-year-old Harry was right: he had been a bully. He had singled the child out and made his life harder, not extremely so, but after the Dursleys...

'Yes.' Memory-Harry nodded. 'Do you see it now? Your father was cruel to you. My relatives never loved me. Yours was worse than mine, but all the same it was unfair and undeserved. We thought Hogwarts was home, or a place where our lives could be happier and we weren't despised for existing. You had the Marauders to remind you how unfair life was, and how hard it is to prove your own worth.'

There was a brief moment of dramatic pause.

'Does it hurt, Severus Snape, to realise that you were my Marauder?'

'Yes.' Severus admitted, wishing he had seen through his own blindness before. 'And I do not deserve this second chance. You do. I have failed; I have become what I cannot live with. What does it matter now? I have done too much - caused too much pain. I beg of you, end this.'

'No.' It wasn't memory-Harry who spoke this time, it was Fate herself.

The boy faded into the dissolving mist, and the hills returned. Severus crumbled to his knees once he had solid ground beneath him again. He hung his head, ashamed and tormented by the undeniable truth he'd been a fool not to see sooner.

'You put your life on the line every day to protect that child.' Fate told him. 'You did so without anyone, apart from Dumbledore, knowing. And myself, of course. I watched you suffer for years, yet I knew you had more mistakes to make. You had to be stripped entirely of all dear to you. Except the boy.' She said.

He listened, but his mind felt numb under the guilty crushing it.

'You protected him, Severus. That is your redeeming quality. You became a spy and you held to your duties no matter how hopeless they seemed. Yes, you treated Harry very judgementally, that cannot be overlooked, but you still protected him. You saved his life more times than you even realised.'

'It does not excuse what I have done.' Severus gasped, trying to contain his emotions.

'Had you been kind to him, you'd never have convinced anyone you were still a Death Eater.' Fate added. 'I can see where people go; where their futures will take them. Your choices - they weren't in vain.'

He looked up quickly.

She had a far-away gaze in her bright blue eyes, her silvery hair sweeping over her shoulder with the breeze. His hair did not move; Severus assumed she was using some sort of magic he could not quite feel.

'For the rest of Harry's schooling, you would have continued to save him.' She said smoothly, in a quieter voice. 'Each time, it will nearly cost your life and position as a spy. You will even kill someone you know well, for the boy's safety and the sake of war in favour of the Light. It would be upon request, but nevertheless - the one asking had no idea that in all your time as a Death Eater you have never murdered a single person.'

'Not with my own hands or wand.' Severus frowned. 'But I am to blame for her death.'

'No, Lily's death was already written.' Fate said. 'She still would have died, just several years later. If you hadn't shared the part of the Prophecy, then begged Dumbledore to have her go into hiding...'

Fate looked reluctant to tell him, but soon continued.

'Your actions led to Harry's survival. Asking the Dark Lord to spare her was another. He gave her a choice, and she refused to stand aside from her child. It wasn't that she had died protecting her son that helped him live - it was because she chose to sacrifice herself. There is a tremendous difference between the two.'

Severus didn't know what to think of that. Had his ill-causing actions led to the survival of the boy? Had his bad deed saved a life? He couldn't fathom such a thing, but he was surprised to realise how much he had helped Harry. It made the bullying he later aimed at the child a little less cruel. It was inexcusable, yes, but it wasn't enough to make Severus wish a terrible punishment upon himself in repayment.

'You see it now.' Fate nodded. 'In all my time in this job, I have never had to intervene as much as I have with with you and Harry.' She frowned. 'You know the truth now, so you can improve your new fate. And I have to go. There are rules even I must follow.'

The air felt oddly cold. Her next words were spoken without anger yet as seriously so, and Severus knew not to take the warning lightly.

'Mark my words, Severus Snape - if you should ever call or need me again, it would be at a terrible consequence.'

--

It was an hour before dinner when Severus stepped inside the Burrow.

Molly was knitting in the living room, and looked at him with concern. She never said a word. From what he had seen on the hill, the other Weasleys were all in the backyard. Even Percy, though he was once again reading a book rather than playing Quidditch.

Crossing the room, Severus slowly ascended the stairs until he reached his platform. Peering into Harry's room, he was relieved to see the mess had been cleaned. Probably by Molly, Severus thought to himself. The boy was sitting in the middle of the room, playing with his blocks. He still seemed a bit moody, yet not in the disastrous manner as earlier.

'Harry.' Severus spoke.

The boy looked at him, seeming prepared to run at Severus and hug him. Harry froze, and his eyes widened with shock, as he stared at his returned father. Severus was alarmed when the child's obsidian pupils blinked bright emerald for a second, then were dark once more. He stepped further into the room and crouched in front of his wary three-year-old son.

Lily was still there, and so was James, but someone else was as well. A person Severus should never have overlooked - not years ago and not now.

'Harry.' He said again, placing a hand on his son's head. 'Your behaviour earlier was unacceptable. Had I not cast the shielding charm, you may have injured me. No one will listen to you if you're shouting and throwing your toys.'

'I'm sorry, Daddy.' The three-year-old looked painfully guilty; his eyes welled with tears and he lunged to hug his father.

Severus stood with the child in his arms and, for the first time ever, cuddled him close with a loving embrace. He pressed his cheek to the child's head and rubbed his back softly to soothe him. He knew there was still a lot to work on, but he could never hate the boy again. Severus was determined more than ever to make this work.

He understood now, why Harry was behaving this way, and therefore he could adjust and make sense of the situations they were bound to fall into once again.

'You are forgiven, Harry.' Severus told the child. 'From now on, you will have a schedule to follow every day. I will be putting you into time-out if you misbehave. And, I promise you, I will take better care of you.' He didn't apologise to the three-year-old for anything because it wasn't this child he felt he owed the apologies to. One day, if he ever saw Harry Potter again, Severus was going to beg for his forgiveness.

Hopefully, a boy could forgive what his mother could not.

'I don't hate you, Daddy.' Little Harry sobbed. 'I'm so so sorry!'

'I know.' Severus whispered. 'I know everything now.'