After several minutes of heart-stopping pain, Harry felt strong hands wrap around his waist. He felt the fingers of his right hand being squeezed tightly.

“Come on Harry. Focus on the Snitch,” Snape’s voice instructed from behind him. Harry fought as hard as he could against Voldemort. The Snitch, he was racing for the Snitch. He squeezed Snape’s fingers, but in his mind, they were no longer fingers. They had become the smooth wood of his Firebolt, the handle quivering in his grip.

“Harry, you can do it.” He had to. He couldn’t let Voldemort win. He couldn’t let Voldemort get to all his carefully-guarded secrets. The Snitch. The Golden, glimmering Snitch. He had to chase it. He couldn’t think about Voldemort. His grip tightened on his broom as he chased the Snitch.

“That’s it, Harry. Don’t let him get to you.” Harry fought even harder against the presence that was making his scar burn painfully. The comforting grip on his hand was suddenly gone, and he was leaned against a cold stone wall.

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, take him to the hospital wing,” said Snape. But Harry didn’t want them to. He wanted his father to take him there….

He woke up in the hospital wing some time later and found he was all alone. Well, not really. As soon as she noticed he was awake, Madam Pomfrey was handing him potion after potion. After drinking a third one that tasted like mud, she said he was free to go. Harry immediately hopped off the bed and left the hospital wing, where he ran straight into Snape.

“Haven’t you anything better than create reasons to go back to the hospital wing?” drawled Snape.

“No, sir,” said Harry.

“No matter, the Headmaster has deemed it necessary for you to have an escort back to your Common Room.” That might actually be true. He didn’t really want Voldemort attacking his mind again. It hurt like hell. Before he entered the Tower, Snape bent down to pick a crumpled piece of parchment off the ground.

“I do believe this belongs to you,” said Snape as he passed the parchment to Harry. He hadn’t dropped anything…oh, Snape was sending a note to him. It couldn’t look suspicious. He took the parchment and entered the Tower. Once safely behind his bed curtains, Harry uncrumpled the parchment.

Harry,

I want you to be careful. Take the Sleeping Potion every night. You are most vulnerable when you’re sleeping, but the potion should block the Dark Lord. We shall have to have more lessons. I have talked to the Headmaster, who will be erecting more wards around the school for your protection. In the meantime, take your potion and practice.

S.S.

For once, Harry was actually going to listen and take his potion. He preferred to go without it, but if the alternative was Voldemort getting in his head….well, he’d rather become dependent on the potion.

He folded the note up into a tiny square, then put it in his trunk and took out a vial of the potion. He changed into pajamas and drank the potion. He was asleep before anyone came into the dormitory.

-----Mistress Wolf’s part-----

“Potter,” hissed the familiar evil voice. “You cannot escape me.”

Voldemort? Here? But…how was that possible. He had taken the potion! The potion was supposed to block Voldemort out!

“Now, now,” sneered Voldemort, his ugly “face” coming into focus. “You didn’t honestly think that I cold be stopped by a mere potion, did you, Potter” He laughed, a high-pitched cackle that made Harry’s scar tingle.

“Get out of my head, Voldemort!” Harry yelled in anger, desperately trying to throw up his mental walls--to put his father’s lessons to use, but…he couldn’t.

“You thought to escape me, Potter, but you were gravely mistaken. No one can escape Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard in the world!”

“’YOU’RE NOT THE GREATEST WIZARD IN THE WORLD! ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IS THE GREATEST WIZARD IN THE WORLD!” Harry screamed, rage building inside of him.

“Yes,” said Voldemort, nodding. “Yes, he is the greatest, isn’t he? That’s why he keeps everything from you, isn’t it? That’s why your godfather’s dead. Why only you and I can choose the outcome of the universe.” Harry got a horrified look on his face as those words sunk in.

“Yes,” admitted Voldemort, pleasure dripping like venom from his words. “I know all about the prophecy. THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES….BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT…AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES….THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…. That fool of a Headmaster you have is very bad at keeping thing hidden from me. I have ways to get what I want, Potter. And you can be sure that the death of that old fool will be right after the death of The-Boy-Who-Lived.” He smiled evilly at Harry and raised his wand.

“You are mine, Potter,” he hissed. “Avada Kedavra!”

Harry screamed, his hands clutching his scar as he tried, futilely, to escape the pain. Distantly, he thought he heard people crying his name, but he couldn’t be sure.

Eventually, the pain began to diminish, and as he felt himself slipping into darkness, he was aware that there were people surrounding him. His eyes flickered open long enough to see Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore. His eyes slipped closed as it became harder to draw breath.

He felt someone’s gently arms wrapped around him and he heard the voice of his father whisper in his ear, “Harry.” The voice sounded concerned, genuinely worried. His scar was just burning, but that was nothing new. Something warm dripped down his forehead. Was someone pouring water on him?

Suddenly, Harry was wracked with yet another spasm of pain. He thought it had all gone, bit this was worse than the last. He didn’t even have the strength to cry out, though he was sure his head was being split in two.

He gasped, trying to catch breath that wouldn’t come. His lungs didn’t seem to want to work. He reached out and grabbed his father’s hand. He felt his own long hair, knowing the Glamour Charm had worn off, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if Draco knew--he needed to know his father was close.

“Dad,” he gasped out. It took everything he had just to say that, but he needed him to be there.

“I’m here, Harry,” Snape whispered in reply. “I won’t leave,” he promised. “I’m right here.”

Harry nodded, assured, before exhaustion overrode him and he met the darkness as it turned into light, wondering if he was dying at last.

-----end Mistress Wolf’s part-----

His mum’s face swam into view and he reached out a hand to touch the gleaming red hair that brushed his face.

“Mum.” He wordlessly mouthed the word that he had longed to say for so long. A slim hand closed over his own.

“No, Harry. You can’t stay here,” she whispered. “Go to sleep now. Everything will be all right.” Harry obediently shut his eyes as the strains of a song from a long-lost memory stirred his soul.

~Snape’s POV~

As Snape held Harry, his choking gasps for air died and his body went still. Snape could swear that his heart stopped when he realized that Harry was dead.

“No,” he whispered and clutched Harry’s body closer to him.

“No, no, no,” he murmured, his head shaking back and forth to emphasize his words. Two wet teardrops slid their way down his face, followed by two more until he realized he was making Harry’s pajamas damp. But he couldn't stop the tears. He was crying for the son that had been hidden from him for so long, mourning the loss of the time he should have had with Harry. He’d never get a chance to tell Harry how much he cared for him, how much he….loved him.

“Merlin, no, Harry,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.” But it was too late. He couldn’t save Harry. You couldn’t bring back the dead.

He hugged Harry closer and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Harry.” He could swear he heard the slightest sounds of breathing coming from Harry. No, he was imagining things. Harry was gone forever. He lowered Harry to the bed and backed away. Harry couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t.

He hit the adjoining bed and leaned on it. The hospital wing began to blur and his legs felt as though all the bones had been removed. A hand gripped his upper arm and he was guided into a chair. His fingers were pressed around cool glass.

“Ron, Hermione, you need to leave,” said a quiet voice. The only sign that they had left was the scraping of two chairs and a door being quietly opened and shut.

“Severus, drink this.” He numbly raised the vial to his lips, the scent of it confirming the fact that it was a Calming Draught. He drank it anyways, and stared at the body of his son. But wait….no, he had just imagine Harry’s chest rising up…..and down….and then back up. He scrambled out of the chair and leaned on Harry’s bed. The potion was making him see things.

He heard someone gasp from behind him and then, “It’s not possible!” Snape held his breath…and put his hand in front of Harry’s nose. There. He felt just the faintest puffs of breath against his hand. Snape let out his breath and collapsed back into the chair, mixed emotions coursing through his soul. Relief, worry, fear being the dominant emotions of the hundreds of emotions swirling around in his mind. He could hardly take his eyes off The-Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die.

Madam Pomfrey hurried over, blocking Harry from his sight. When he made to move so he could see Harry again, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw the Headmaster standing there with a grave expression on his face.

“We need to talk, Severus,” he said. Snape didn’t care. He didn’t want to leave Harry.

“I’m not leaving Harry,” he said determinedly.

“I won’t make you, Severus, but perhaps it would be best if we discuss this where others can’t hear. Over there looks good,” said Dumbledore, pointing to the other side of the room. Snape followed him over, glancing backwards at Harry as he did so. Madam Pomfrey was waving her wand over him and muttering to herself.

“Severus, I’m sure you have ascertained the strange circumstances surrounding Harry’s….death.” Snape nodded.

“I believe Voldemort is at work here. Incanting the Killing Curse in a dream in the hopes that it would kill Harry. It did indeed kill him, but for some reason, he is not dead. My belief is that it was deemed unfair for Voldemort to be able to kill Harry so easily. We may be able to get information from Harry once he awakens,” said Dumbledore. If, thought Snape darkly.

“Don’t think such dark thoughts, Severus,” chided Dumbledore. Snape stared at him, shocked that Dumbledore had known what he was thinking.

“He will be fine, being as he was returned from Death. There was a reason for that, other than Voldemort. I need to think on this a while. In the meantime, I want you to keep a close eye on him, Severus,” said Dumbledore. Snape assured him he would and Dumbledore swept out of the room.

Snape sat next to Harry again and grasped one of Harry’s cool hands in his own. He surveyed his son’s body and found that he hadn’t moved at all, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Up and down. Up and down….

Much like his emotions these past few months. All of this was so new to him. So strange and abnormal. He scooted closer to the bed. He wanted Harry to be all right so much.

“Harry, please wake up,” he whispered. He rested his elbows on the bed and put his head in his hands. Snape slowly drifted off to sleep. He was awoken by a slight movement from the bed his head was currently resting on. He sat up and saw that Harry had shifted in the bed so he was lying on his side and curled up like a shrimp with one hand pressed to his forehead.

“Harry,” whispered Snape, just loud enough for Harry to hear him if he was awake, but not loud enough to actually wake him up.

Harry’s eyes flickered open and Snape could see his tired green eyes. He wasn’t sleepy. He was tired of the world, tired of life, tired of constantly fighting the Dark Lord. Harry looked away and rubbed at his head.

“It hurts,” he said softly. “It didn’t hurt before….when I saw my mum.” Snape’s breath caught in his throat. Harry had seen Lily?

“What do you mean?” asked Snape.

“It was…like a dream. I saw her and she sang me to sleep. I even touched her hair. It felt so real.” He sighed softly.

“I felt so…free, but then I came back here.” He rubbed at his head again. Snape reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand. He squeezed it lightly and said, “I’m here for you too, Harry. Your mum can only see you at certain times. I, however, am always here.” Harry nodded and bit his lip.

“I shall go and fetch Madam Pomfrey for you,” said Snape. He went over to her office and knocked on the door.

She opened it immediately and asked, “What do you need, Professor?” “Harry’s woken up and his head is bothering him,” said Snape. She opened the door the rest of the way and collected several potions. She then went over to where Harry was now struggling to sit up.

His head was probably going to ache for some time. Mental battles were notoriously draining and painful, especially during unconscious battles. He wondered how the Dark Lord was faring not having England’s best Potions Master there to prepare something for him. Harry drank the potions, and then sat up the rest of the way. Snape sat back down beside him.

“You are going to need more Occlumency lessons,” said Snape.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “I definitely don’t want that happening again. What I don’t understand, though, is why aren’t I dead? I got hit with Avada Kedavra.”

“The Headmaster suspects it has something to do with a fair fight between you two. Hitting you with the Killing Curse in your sleep certainly isn’t fair,” said Snape.

“Like Voldemort’ll ever be fair. Evil people are never fair,” said Harry.

“True,” said Snape. The Dark Lord might try to kill Harry in his mind again, but he would do his damnedest to keep the Dark Lord out of Harry’s head. It was going to be a hell of a fight, but he would not lose his son to the Dark Lord.

“I wish he would just die,” burst Harry. “and all of his followers, too,” he added darkly.

“I don’t want you to dwell on that right now. I want you to concentrate on school and your NEWTs, not planning to kill a Dark Wizard. That can wait until you’re out of school,” said Snape.

“How can I concentrate on school when that arsehole keeps disrupting it?” said Harry.

“We will work on stopping him. I will arrange for more Occlumency lessons once you’re out of here. Perhaps ealier, though, as the Dark Lord may want to try again, while you have been weakened by his first attempt,” said Snape.

“Yeah, he probably will, since he’d so obsessed with killing me and not playing by the rules,” said Harry. He laughed darkly.

“And while he’s at it, he’ll probably come storming though the castle gates.” Hmm…what exactly had Madam Pomfrey given him? Harry was talking rather freely.

“Maybe he’ll blow up the whole castle, get rid of all his enemies in one shot,” said Harry.

“You’re hysterical,” said Snape. “I think you need some rest.”

“No, I don’t,” protested Harry. “and I’m not hysterical. Voldemort coming into the castle is highly likely. He’s been in here, what, two times, kidnapped me from here once, lured--”

Snape cut off his babbling and said, “The castle has been re-spelled to keep him from doing that again. You are safe here.”

“Oh yeah. Real safe, when Voldemort can attack my mind whenever he wants,” grumbled Harry.

“Get some sleep, Harry. We can talk more about this in the morning,” said Snape. Harry shook his head.

“I don’t want to,” said Harry. Snape understood his concern, but Harry needed some rest.

“Would you feel better if I fetched you a Sleeping Draught?” asked Snape.

“He got through the potion you made, so, no,” said Harry. There had to be a way Harry could safely sleep. If a potion didn’t work, then perhaps a Sleeping Charm would keep out the Dark Lord. He hated to have to experiment on his son, but if it was the only way…. He pulled out his wand.

“Dormir,” said Snape. Harry’s eyes slipped closed and he slumped over in the bed. Snape pushed him down and carefully tucked him in. He wanted to stay and keep and eye on Harry, but the Charm would last several hours and he needed to sleep too. He fingered a lock of his son’s hair before exiting the hospital wing.

The next morning he returned to the hospital wing to find that Harry hadn’t had any more visits from the Dark Lord. Thank Merlin. Harry blinked his eyes open just as Snape reached his bedside.

“What did you do to me?” asked Harry.

“Sleeping Charm,” replied Snape.

“Oh,” said Harry. “It worked great. I feel loads better. Can I leave now?”

“You’ll have to ask Madam Pomfrey about that. I also don’t believe you should go walking into your Commong Room, what with your friends thinking you’re dead and all,” said Snape. The look on Harry’s face was priceless.

“They think I’m dead?”

“They were here when you died, so I think it's safe to assume so,” said Snape.

“Well, go tell them I’m not dead,” said Harry.

“The Headmaster will most likely be attending to that this morning,” said Snape.

“Now, we need to discuss more Occlumency lessons. Would you rather the Headmaster make a general announcement about your parentage or would you prefer more detentions?”

“Detentions,” said Harry. “I’d rather just tell my friends first. I assume they saw?” said Harry, tugging at his longer hair.

“Yes, they saw you, but I think they were more concerned about you than with what you looked like at the time,” said Snape. “Dumbledore will be back before you leave here to re-cast the Charm.”

“Okay,” said Harry. “Can you go get Ron and Hermione?”

“I daresay they’ll be here soon, after Dumbledore is though with them,” said Snape. “but I will go collect your friends.” He’d rather spend some more time with Harry, but Harry looked like he’d rather get the talk with his friends over with. Snape stood up.

“I will be back shortly.” He then went to McGonagall’s office to see if the Gryffindors were with here. She was sitting at her desk grading essays when he walked in and she said, “They’re with the Headmaster,” without looking up.

“Thank you,” said Snape. He went to Dumbledore’s office, where the password was now Snickers, and walked up the moving staircase.

Dumbledore said, “Come in,” before he even had a chance to knock and he entered the office and saw Ron and Hermione seated in front of Dumbledore.

“Harry would like for his friends to come to the hospital wing,” said Snape.

“Ah, he wishes to tell them. Very well, then. Off you go,” said Dumbledore. “Severus, I’ll be down when they are done to re-apply the Glamour.” Snape herded the Gryffindors down to the hospital wing, where Harry was lying staring at the ceiling.

“Harry!” squealed Hermione. Harry turned his head and grinned, then pushed himself back up to a sitting position.

The two made their way over to Harry and Snape said, “Harry, I’ll let you three alone, okay?”

“Sure,” said Harry.

~Harry’s POV~

Wow, Snape was going to let him alone to do this. Snape left the hospital wing, leaving Harry alone to talk to his friends. Ron stared after Snape, then turned back to Harry.

“I have something to tell you,” said Harry before Ron had a chance to speak.

“Harry,” said Ron slowly. “Please don’t tell us that you are related in any way to Snape.”

Harry pushed his hair out of his face and said, “I can’t.” Ron looked suspiciously at him.

“What do you mean?” asked Ron.

“Umm…..” said Harry.

“Harry, is Professor Snape your father?” asked Hermione incredulously. Harry nodded.

Silence filled the room. Ron and Hermione were in complete shock. Harry was numb with relief at finally having told them. The door to the hospital wing suddenly opened, disturbing the silence, and admitted Snape. He looked at the silenced teenagers for a moment, then strode over and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“Did you tell them?” asked Snape softly. Harry nodded.

“Umm…sir, he just told us that you’re his father, but how is that possible? I mean, Lily and James were married,” said Hermione.

“One does not have to be married to produce a child,” drawled Snape. Hermione turned pink and looked down. Harry inwardly cringed. Did he have to say something like that? Harry stared desperately at his friends, wanting them to say that they were okay with this, that they didn’t hate him now. But no such chance came.

Dumbledore came in just then and ushered Ron and Hermione out of the hospital wing. Harry fidgeted, wondering what Dumbledore was there for, and felt his father’s grip on his shoulders tighten in comfort.

“Hello Headmaster,” he greeted.

“Hello Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I’ve come to restore the Glamour Charm. It seems to be broken by Voldemort’s attacks on you and probably any major accidents. I am working on an improvement, but it will take some time. For now, though, the usual one shall have to do. Cacher apparence vrai.”

Harry felt the usual strange sensations of changing, and then sleepiness fell over him like a veil. He slumped against his father’s body and barely registered being tucked into bed, let alone falling asleep entirely……

When he awoke again, blinking traces of deep sleep from his mind, he could not recall any dreams he may have had. He found himself alone in the room and heard Madam Pomfrey doing something in her office. He sat up and rubbed absently at his forehead. He winced, feeling flesh that felt like it had been sliced open again. That was strange. Perhaps he’d better go and check it out.

He got unsteadily out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He hadn’t even gotten halfway there when Madam Pomfrey came out of her office and demanded to know what he was doing out of bed.

“I was just going to the bathroom,” said Harry.

“You’re not going anywhere until you’ve taken your potions,” said Madam Pomfrey. She led him back to his bed, where he was forced to drink a number of potions before she deemed him able to walk ten feet to the bathroom by himself. He shut the door firmly behind him and studied his reflection. His face was much paler than usual, and his scar looked like it had been healed recently.

As he rubbed at it again, he remembered something warm dripping down his forehead and thinking it had been water. So his scar had split open. With one last look at his James Potter face in the mirror, he left the bathroom.