Harry came to the next night.

Information slowly registered in his mind as he blinked up at the dark, shadowy ceiling with dim streaks of moonlight painted across it, streaming in through the tall windows. He could feel the warmth of the sheets covering him, and there was a faint aseptic smell that he was all too familiar with.

How did he end up here? What happened?

He tried searching his memories for any clues, but his mind felt strangely muddled and cluttered.

When Harry attempted to sit upright, he couldn't keep a soft groan from escaping past his lips as his body protested the movement. His head was pounding, and his limbs felt much too heavy, as if his bones were now made of lead. Everything hurt; his whole body ached as if he had been trampled by a stampede of hippogriffs. Harry couldn't remember ever being this sore. Not even after one of Uncle Vernon's thrashings did he ache this much.

Suddenly, there was a movement somewhere to Harry's right and he started, unable to immediately identify who it was.

"Harry," a familiar baritone voice said softly as a hand gently landed on his shoulder. Harry couldn't suppress a flinch at the suddenness and recoiled away, nearly falling off the other side of the bed. He gasped at the flare of pain the movement caused.

"It's all right, you're safe."

Harry couldn't exactly see the person, but he certainly knew that voice. It was as if it unlocked something in his mind and the memories began gradually trickling in.

The shopping trip in Diagon Alley... The Death Eater attack... Voldemort torturing his father... Harry trying to stop it... Then watching a spell coming towards him...

All of a sudden, the candles on his nightstand were lit, brightening up the room with a warm glow and drawing Harry from the memories. Relief swept through him when he saw his father standing beside his bed, donning his habitual black robes, appearing completely healed from the last time Harry had seen him.

"Sir," Harry tried to say, but he found that his voice wasn't working. All that came out of his mouth were rasps of air. He tried to wet his chapped lips, but his mouth was too dry and his throat felt raw as if he'd been constantly screaming.

He attempted to rise again, but was stopped when Snape placed a warm hand on his chest and stilled his efforts.

"Careful," his father said, "you are still recovering."

Once Snape was sure that Harry wouldn't try to sit up again, he removed his hand and withdrew his wand from his sleeve. He gave it a slight wave and conjured a few pillows. With his father's help, Harry slowly sat up and settled into a comfortable upright position against the pillows. As Snape was adjusting the sheets, Harry glanced around and noticed a dark cushioned armchair beside his bed with an open book resting face down on it.

Had his father really stayed at his bedside? It reminded Harry of a few days ago when he'd woken up after he had fainted in his father's study, but in all the times that Harry was forced to stay in the infirmary, there was never anyone that stayed at his bedside until he woke. How long had Snape been there?

Right when Harry was about to ask his father what happened, Madam Pomfrey came bustling out from her office, wand in hand.

"Ah, glad to see you're awake Harry," she said, looking relieved as she reached his bedside. Then Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand over him, muttering spells under her breath. As soon as she finished, she asked, "How are you feeling? Any aches or pains?"

"Sore," Harry croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape conjured a glass of water and brought it to Harry's lips. Harry sipped the cool liquid gratefully, letting it quench his parched mouth and throat. Once he had drank his fill, his father set the glass on the nightstand, then said, "Now, how are you truly feeling?"

"My heading is pounding and I ache all over," Harry whispered, grimacing as he placed a hand over his eyes. His headache was getting worse.

"That is to be expected, considering all the events that happened a few days ago," his father commented as he dimmed the lights to a more tolerable level, correctly sensing Harry's discomfort.

Harry frowned, furrowing his brows as he removed his hand to stare at his father.

A few days ago? How long had he been asleep?

Just as Harry was about to ask, Madam Pomfrey spoke again.

"I can give you a headache relief potion and a pain reliever for the aches," she said, summoning two small vials of potions that came floating from her office and into her outstretched hand.

Harry attempted to grasp it, but found that his arms were just too sore and shaky to be of any use right now. His father had to hold the vials to his lips as Harry downed the slightly unpleasant potions one after the other, grimacing a little from the aftertaste. The relief in his head was instant, the pounding seemed to diminish to just an annoying throbbing, but the potions seemed to have no effect on the aches throughout his body.

"It's not really working, I'm still quite sore," Harry said, glancing between his father and Madam Pomfrey.

Snape frowned, turning to Madam Pomfrey with a raised eyebrow. "Poppy?"

Pomfrey shook her head and waved her wand over Harry again. "It is perhaps one of the after effects of the curse," she said with a sigh. "Your body went through some serious trauma, but I believe the soreness should wear off in a few days."

Oh, right. The last thing he remembered was a strange purple spell flying towards him... What had Voldemort hit him with?

After a few more moments of fussing over him and telling him to get more rest, Madam Pomfrey retired back to her office, leaving Harry alone with his father once again.

Harry cleared his throat a little before he asked, "What happened, sir?"

Snape sat back down in the armchair and seemed to study him before asking, "What do you remember?"

"I remember our shopping trip in Diagon Alley, then the Death Eater attack and Voldemort was there," Harry recalled. "I think there was a spell that hit me... and I don't really remember anything after that."

His father nodded. "The Dark Lord had cast a rather debilitating memory curse on you."

"Oh," Harry murmured, fidgeting with a loose thread on the blanket.

"It forced you to relive your worst memories."

Steadily, it was now coming back to him. Harry remembered feeling trapped, desperate to escape from the torrent of terrible memories playing in his mind's eye. He couldn't understand it; it was as if he was there, able to feel everything happening in the memories.

"It was like I was stuck in my memories..." Harry said softly. "Like I was actually there..."

"That was one of the effects of the curse," Snape said, as he ran a hand down his face. There was relief in his voice as he murmured, "Thank Merlin, you broke through it."

Harry nodded and proceeded to shove those memories out of his mind. He never wanted to think about them again; having to live through them was enough. There was almost a point where he had wanted to give up, but somehow he could remember hearing his father's voice, encouraging him to break the curse. Harry wasn't sure if it had been just his imagination or if Snape had really been there.

But before Harry could think anymore of it, the scene of his father getting tortured came back to him.

"Are you alright sir?" Harry asked as he studied his father. The man appeared to be fine, but Harry wanted to make sure anyway. He remembered how his father had been collapsed on the ground with a giant gash on his leg. "Were you injured badly?"

Snape seemed a bit surprised at Harry's inquiry before dismissing his concern with a wave of his hand. "I am fine. Madam Pomfrey did an acceptable job of healing me."

Harry was glad that his father didn't get hurt too badly. Though at the time, it definitely didn't seem that way and Harry shuddered slightly at the remembered scene.

Snape sighed, sounding tired, then he rose to his feet again.

"Harry, allow me make this as clear as possible," his father began, his features becoming stern as he came to stand next to Harry's bed. "Never, under any circumstances, attempt something so reckless and foolish again. What were you thinking challenging the Dark Lord like that?"

Harry inwardly winced at his father's rebuke and averted his gaze to his hands on his lap. I guess I wasn't thinking. The only thing that had been on his mind at the time was that he needed to stop his father from being tortured. He just didn't want anyone else to be hurt because of him. His own safety never even crossed his mind.

"You were being tortured," Harry said quietly, "and Voldemort was after me anyway..."

"I am well aware," Snape said. "However, I was handling the situation."

"But—" Harry began, but was immediately cut off.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? The Dark Lord could have easily finished you, not to mention that curse..." Snape said, his tone hard. He forced out a breath, folding his arms across his chest before he continued, "Do you not have any self preservation at all? Always rushing headlong into danger without a second thought; you need to learn to control those impulsive Gryffindor tendencies."

Nothing but trouble... Danger to everyone... 

Harry hung his head and didn't dare look up. He gave a slight nod of his head before whispering, "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble sir."

There was only silence at first, but then, a few moments later, Harry heard his father release another sigh and felt a slight dip on the side of his bed. Thin fingers gently cupped Harry's chin, and a slight pressure from those fingers guided his face up so that his green eyes met his father's dark ones. Harry hesitantly met his gaze, anticipating anger, but instead, he saw a hint of sorrow and concern in them.

"Harry, you do not cause trouble," Snape said firmly, then continued in a more softer tone, "I was just... frightened. However noble your intentions were, it is not something I wish to go through again."

The image of his father's usually fathomless dark eyes containing an uncommon amount of fear flashed into Harry's mind.

His father had been afraid— for him?

It was similar to the concern and fear that parents would show when one of their kids were in danger. Harry had seen it plenty of times, but he never thought he would have someone that did the same for him. He never had anyone that cared whether he got hurt or not. There was a brief moment of warmth filling his chest. It felt good knowing someone was concerned for him, but Harry also couldn't help feeling guilty for causing the man this much worry.

"I could have lost you," his father whispered, almost to himself as he removed his hand from Harry's chin.

Harry swallowed, feeling a rather large lump forming in his throat.

Even though he had just woken up not very long ago, Harry still felt exhausted. He let out a shaky breath, his eyelids suddenly feeling much too heavy.

"Rest now, Harry," Snape said as he lightly patted Harry's leg. Then he swiftly stood and began removing the pillows from behind Harry.

Harry allowed his father to slowly lower him back down again.

"Thank you for staying," he mumbled softly. The word Dad was on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn't bring himself to say it, having never used the word before and unsure of how it would be received.

His father pulled the warm sheets up to his chin and tucked it around him. As Harry let his eyes fall shut, he felt a thin hand gently brushing through his hair, the soothing motion helping him drift further into a dreamless sleep.

The next day when Harry woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his father was no longer sitting beside his bed. Instead, seated in a colorful plush armchair was Professor Dumbledore in equally colorful robes with shooting stars streaking across the fabric.

"Good morning, Harry. So glad to see you awake," Dumbledore greeted with his grandfatherly smile.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry returned, his voice still a bit rough. He glanced around the room and asked, "Where's my— er, where's Professor Snape?"

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes as he gazed at Harry through his half moon spectacles. "Your father said he had something to take care of. He will return shortly," he replied.

Harry nodded as he tested out his limbs. Thankfully, they didn't seem to ache as much as yesterday, but it was still slightly painful to move. He managed to slowly prop himself up with his elbows and settle against the headboard.

"Why was Voldemort at Diagon Alley, sir?" Harry asked, once he got comfortable. Now that Dumbledore was here, Harry hoped to get some answers.

"Ah, I am not sure of his motivations, however, there were other notable places that Voldemort had sent his Death Eaters. There were attacks simultaneously occurring around England," Dumbledore explained, not seeming to mind the change in subject.

"He wanted to know the Prophecy," Harry said. "I tried dueling him to stall him until you arrived."

"Yes, an admirable job if I do say so myself," Dumbledore said, smiling. "However, not the most wise choice."

"Was anyone hurt?" Harry asked warily, remembering when he helped Fred and George during the attack. George had got hit in the leg and Harry wondered if anyone else got injured as well.

"There were a few that had to make a visit to St. Mungos, but nothing too serious. The Aurors did manage to capture a few of the Death Eaters."

"That's good," Harry replied, glad that at least some of them were caught.

Dumbledore nodded, smoothing a hand down his beard.

"I already spoke to Severus about giving you extra defense lessons," said Dumbledore, after a brief moment of silence. "It would be wise to be prepared. Now I am aware that the Occlumency lessons last year were not the most effective..."

That's putting it lightly, Harry thought, recalling those terrible lessons in the dungeons. He had always come out of those lessons with a pounding headache, having had his mind constantly breached.

"However, I am sure that Severus is willing to be more... ah, patient this time," Dumbledore finished with a smile on his aged face, the twinkle present in his eyes.

The Floo flared to life then, and his father stepped out, briefly brushing away the soot before he made his way towards them, his black robes billowing behind him.

"Headmaster," Snape greeted curtly before turning his gaze towards Harry.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore replied, gracefully rising to his feet. "I think I will leave you two be."

With that, they watched the headmaster leave until the great wooden doors swung shut behind him.

"How are you feeling?" his father asked.

"Fine sir," Harry replied.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Anymore aches?"

"Er, not as much as yesterday."

His father nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. He glanced distastefully at the colorful armchair Dumbledore had left and sharply flicked his wand, returning it to a plain black one, before he took a seat.

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Not yet."

His father ordered breakfast from the house elves and once it arrived, they ate together in a relatively comfortable silence.

"Do you know when I can leave, sir?" Harry asked when they finished.

"I believe Poppy said you may leave tomorrow morning," Snape replied, "when the curse's side effects have mostly worn off."

So for the rest of the day, Harry resigned himself to staying in bed. He never liked staying in the hospital wing for too long. Between the boredom and Madam Pomfrey's incessant fussing, Harry had always been more than ready to leave the first chance he got. But this time, he found it wasn't as miserable nor as boring. His father stayed with him the entire time, and had even brought Harry some books to help occupy the time.

Still, when Madam Pomfrey discharged him the next morning, Harry was more than ready to leave.

"This is for the remaining scars, it should be applied every night until they disappear," Madam Pomfrey said as she handed Snape a jar filled with blue salve.

"I know Poppy," his father replied, slipping the jar into his robe pocket.

After receiving strict instructions to rest and refrain from rigorous exercise, Madam Pomfrey finally allowed Harry to leave.

"Shall we return home?" Snape asked, lightly resting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Home. 

Harry still hadn't considered it home yet, but maybe he would someday. It was still mind boggling to think that he actually had a place he could home, besides Hogwarts.

"Yes sir," Harry replied with a nod.

Snape guided him to the Floo and kept his hand resting on Harry's shoulder as they stepped into the green flames.

It appeared that Kieran and his mother were waiting for them on the other side. As soon as they arrived in his father's study in Prince Manor, Harry was startled when Kieran suddenly launched himself at Snape, wrapping his arms around him. The embrace also seemed to take his father by surprise as well, because Snape stiffened and awkwardly patted Kieran's back instead of returning the gesture. Harry turned away when Kieran smirked at him.

"Why are you two here?" Snape asked, drawing Kieran back and looking towards Clarice. "I thought he was staying with you for the weekend."

Clarice stepped forward and smiled. "Well, Kieran wanted to stay with you, now that you've returned."

Kieran grinned. "I'm so glad you're back Dad."

Snape gave a curt nod, then resettled his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Very well, if you will excuse us, I am going to escort Harry to his room," he said as he began steering Harry out of the study.

Why is he escorting me to my room? Harry wondered. It wasn't as if he forgot how to get there...

Harry gave Snape a confused look, but his father ignored it and just continued on. Deciding to not question it for now, Harry mentally shrugged and allowed Snape to guide him through the corridors. It was a nice change being able to walk beside his father rather than having to practically jog in order to keep up with the man's brisk strides. Then again, maybe it was because Madam Pomfrey had emphasized that Harry needed to not over exert himself until he completely recovered...

Harry was jolted to a stop when Snape suddenly paused, then steered him into a room. It was one of the few fairly large and beautifully decorated rooms in the manor.

"Sir?" Harry turned a questioning look at Snape.

Why did his father take him here? They haven't reached his room yet...

"This is your new room, Harry," Snape announced.

For a moment, Harry just stared up at his father.

What? This was his new— 

Harry glanced around the room, wondering if he had heard correctly.

His father was giving him this room?

"Really?" Harry breathed, barely able to process it. "You're giving me— This is really my room now?"

Snape inclined his head. "I have already taken the liberty of instructing the house elves to relocate your possessions," he said, indicating Harry's trunk that was already at the foot of the four poster bed.

"You didn't have to sir," Harry said, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "The other room was fine."

His father gave a small shake of his head. "I do not want you staying at the other end of the manor while you are recovering."

Harry supposed that was a significant reason for having him move into this room. It was so that Snape could keep a closer eye on Harry while he recovered.

"It's quite a nice room, sir," Harry said, taking in the room.

Warm sunlight streamed in through the wide window overlooking the extensive back garden, framed by long beige curtains. Light green and beige throw pillows and cushions lined the window alcove where Harry could sit and gaze outside. The large four poster bed had a warm beige bedspread with light green curtains draped on the sides. At the other end of the room, a sofa stood facing an unlit fireplace, accompanied by two armchairs on either side, providing a comfortable seating area.

It was certainly a significant upgrade from the room he had before. Definitely larger than any room he'd ever had. Or ever dreamed of having.

"The items I confiscated a few days ago have been returned to your trunk," his father told him, from where he was leaning against the desk. Then he gave Harry a stern look. "However, I better not catch you sneaking about in the middle of the night with that cloak."

Harry nodded, then knelt in front of his trunk and couldn't help giving a small smile when he opened it, finding the invisibility cloak and his Firebolt back where it belonged. After a moment, he shut his trunk and stood back up, facing his father. Snape didn't have to give him a new room, especially after his father had already bought Harry new school supplies and a whole new wardrobe that nearly cost a small fortune. Harry had an inexplicable urge to hug the man, but refrained from doing so, knowing that Snape surely wouldn't like that.

Instead, Harry grinned and said sincerely, "Thank you, sir. It's brilliant."

There was a brief upturn of his father's lips, and Harry supposed that was the closest thing to a smile he was going to see. He would have missed it if he wasn't watching close enough.

"No need to thank me," his father replied, waving a hand dismissively. "The room should have been your's when you first arrived."

Then Snape straightened and began making his way out.

"You should get some rest before lunch," his father said before he disappeared out the door.

A half hour later, Harry was sitting on the window alcove, basking in the warmth of the sunlight gently streaming in from the broad windows. He had explored the room some more before settling down. It was a lot to take in and he had a hard time wrapping his mind around everything that happened recently. From the time he received his mother's letter and finding out the truth to now actually living with his father... Maybe it was just some twisted dream his mind had conjured up and he would wake up any day now back at the Dursleys... Whatever it was, Harry was going to make the most of it. Nothing lasted forever and that seemed to hold especially true for Harry.

A light tapping drew Harry from his thoughts and he looked up to see his snowy owl pecking at the glass above him.

"Hedwig!" Harry pushed the window open to let Hedwig in. Once she was inside, Hedwig fluttered over to his desk and landed, holding her leg out for Harry to untie two letters and a small brown package. Harry did so, then went to his trunk to fish out an owl treat and fed it to her. She hooted her thanks and happily nipped his fingers afterwards.

Harry then turned his attention to the two letters. One had his name written in Ron's messy scrawl while the other was in Hermione's neat loopy handwriting.

What would they think of him being Snape's son? Do they already know?

After a moments hesitation, Harry decided to open Ron's letter first.

Dear Harry,

Bloody hell mate, Dumbledore came by and told us about the attack at Diagon Alley. Fred and George said they saw you and that you helped them against four Death Eaters too. How did you just so happen to be in Diagon Alley when he attacked? Do you reckon' he knew you were there? Fred and George also mentioned that you didn't look like yourself. They said you reminded them of someone, but they couldn't think of who. Anyways, Dumbledore said you were fine but he wouldn't tell us where you're staying. Said something about it not being his information to tell and that you should be the one to tell us. What is it mate? Does it have anything to do with why you suddenly look different?

Hermione's been staying with us and was going mad about our OWL results. She had been a nervous wreck waiting for them to arrive. Have you gotten yours yet? No need to tell you what Hermione got of course. It's rather obvious. I only failed in Divination and History of Magic, but who really cares about those subjects right? 

So where are you Harry? I hope wherever it is, it's better than at the Dursley's.

Hope you can visit us soon.

Ron

Harry reread the letter again before setting it down on his desk.

So his friends didn't know yet. Dumbledore didn't tell them. Harry supposed that was a good thing because he would need to tell them himself, though he wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing their reactions.

Harry opened Hermione's letter next.

Dear Harry,

I heard about the attack and I'm so glad you're all right. Ron was speculating on where you are after Dumbledore visited to inform us about what happened in Diagon Alley. Quite frankly I just hope that wherever you are right now, you are safe. 

After everything that happened at the end of last year, I hope you're doing all right. I know Sirius meant a lot to you and I've been worried about how you were coping. So I sent a journal for you to write your thoughts in, if anything is bothering you and you don't have anyone to talk to. It's not healthy to keep everything bottled in, Harry. I've also charmed it so that it can't be read by anyone else unless you wanted them to. It would appear as school notes for anyone who tries to read it. 

Hope to see you soon,

Hermione

Harry took the small package and unwrapped it, revealing a red leather journal with his initials engraved at the bottom right corner. He flipped through it once then set it down on his desk. He didn't know if he would ever use it, but he would still thank Hermione for it later.

Glancing at the time, Harry decided he should start heading down for lunch. He planned to write back to his friends afterwards.

Just as he was approaching his father's study, Harry caught snippets of two voices arguing through the slightly ajar door. It was his father and Kieran's mother, and his father sounded quite angry. Harry wondered what they could be arguing about.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry quietly leaned against the wall beside the door, and listened.