Summary: Severus Snape hasn't talked to his father in years. Harry Potter was, after the Dursleys found out he was adopted, sent to live with his biological father after his second year. Harry and Dumbledore thought Snape knew. Guess not.

A/N: This takes place after Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, but it's only cannon up through the second book (you know, minus the history I had to alter). The events of books three and four happened (Sirius and The Goblet of Fire), but not exactly as they happened in the book (the ending of four is especially different. Voldemort is NOT back.) Harry's been living with his biological father for about two years now (although because blackmail from Dumbledore to the Dursleys, Harry does have to stay with his Aunt for a week out of each summer.)

Snapshot 1:

"Severus," Albus said, and then paused. It was never a good thing when the headmaster paused. "I need a favor." Again, the old man stopped, and Severus sat forward, slightly worried. "I need you to take Harry to get his school supplies. Originally, Molly volunteered, but . . . the Weasleys are currently indisposed for the next few days."

Severus raised his eyebrows at the headmaster. "You need me to bring Harry Potter to get his school supplies," he said slowly, as if trying to understand. "And what happened to his relatives?"

Albus got a strange look in his eyes, then, confusing Severus even more. "Severus," Albus said just as slowly. "You do know where the boy lives now, correct?"

What? Severus thought. Was he supposed to keep track of the boy during the summer now, too? He promised to protect him, not babysit him.

"No," Severus said flatly.

"He said he tried talking to you," the headmaster said, as if suddenly understanding. "But you didn't listen, did you?"

"He? Potter? Why would he need to talk to me?"

Albus sighed audibly. "Severus, Harry was adopted by the Potters. Lily had insisted on it, although James had originally been reluctant." He paused. "Severus, Harry is your brother."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the old man.

What?

"What?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the complete story, but it is the truth. I assumed you knew." Severus sat, staring, not quite feeling right.

"No," Severus answered, not wanting to believe then. Then, his thoughts moved to Lily. Lily had adopted hisbrother. "There had to have been magic to change his appearance," he said, thinking aloud.

"Yes. Your mother had taken potions while pregnant to alter his looks. That is all I know of the matter."

"And Potter knows."

"Of course. He's been living with your father for two years now. Harry did say he tried to talk to you, at the beginning of his third year."

It was a few moments before Severus remembered the 'conversation' in question. He had turned the brat away rather abruptly. "And you never thought to bring the subject up?"

"Yes, I had, Severus, but I assumed you knew, after talking to Harry, and had made your decision likewise. Now, though, it is important that Harry be ready for his classes, and your father had made it very clear that, although he wouldn't stop Harry from going to Hogwarts, he wasn't going to help. Said he was too much like you, in fact."

"Potter is nothing like me," Severus spat, and Albus shook his head. "Fine," he finally said, giving in. Now that the initial shock wore off, he wondered more about Potter living with his father. In his old house. Possibly his old room, because the house had been small. That in itself was a disturbing thought. "Where are they living?"

"Spinners End," the headmaster answered. "I believe you know where that is?"

Severus sat back in his chair. He had left his old school books at that house. It was likely that his father threw them away, but in hindsight, Potter had been doing better in Potions the last couple of years, and had manage to prevent the return of the Dark Lord by defeating wormtail on his own, and he doubted what the boy had learned in four years of defense could have taught him enough . . .

Harry lied on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. His father was downstairs drinking again, and it was usually best to stay away at that point. It would be nice, Harry thought, if dad decided to buy food to eat instead of alcohol. This summer he had thought ahead and made sure he had brought money to buy food of his own, but he hadn't exactly budgeted the money and ran out a couple weeks ago. That meant he had been living on the bread and canned food Tobias would occasionally decide to buy.

Harry was pretty sure the man only ate bar food himself anymore.

He had written to Dumbledore a few days ago, so far with no response, because Mrs. Weasley had written him and explained that they were no longer able to pick him up because Ron's cousin had died, and they had to go to the funeral. Harry understood, but it left him stranded. The Weasleys were currently his only outlet into the magical world during the summer, and without them . . . well, he might as well have been a muggle.

The doorbell went off, and Harry wondered if he should go downstairs to answer it. He doubted his dad would be very pleasant. It didn't ring again, though, so Harry decided that he didn't need to. It was only a few minutes later that he started to hear raised voices, and Harry made a face when he recognized who it was.

Snape.

So, his brother had finally decided to make an appearance. Annoyed, Harry wondered if this was Dumbledore's way of helping him. He sighed, leaving his room and standing at the top of the stairs to watch the altercation. Harry knew that their father didn't like Snape, and he figured it was mutual, but that was as much as he knew.

Well, he at least knew that their father didn't like magic; Harry long decided he wasn't very lucky in his selection of living relatives. Finally, the yelling stopped, and Harry was relieved he didn't have to break up an actual fight. With a scowl, Snape came to the foot of the stairs. The man glared at him for a moment before coming up and pointing toward his room.

"In," Snape said, and Harry obeyed, sitting on his bed. Snape looked around after closing the door.

"You've been living here for two years," Snape said, and Harry nodded. "He's been decent?"

Harry glared. "He's been drunk," he answered. "But its still better than with the Dursleys," he continued under his breath. "No Dudley." Snape appeared to have heard him anyway and narrowed his eyes. Finally, Snape shook his head and then a few moments later, looked angry again. Harry followed his glare and saw the potions book sitting on the nightstand.

"You shouldn't have that," Snape said flatly, and Harry didn't know what to say to that. Snape's old schoolbooks had been a lifesaver. Literally.

"They helped me a lot, you know. Especially during . . . especially in the graveyard," Harry said sullenly, but Snape shook his head, picking up the book. Harry wasn't completely positive, but he thought it was the book they used in 6th year potions. "The spells-"

"Those spells are dark," Snape said forcefully. "Who would have thought: The great Harry Potter, practicing the Dark Arts."

"I'm not evil," Harry pointed out. "I don't use anything to hurt somebody. Well, unless they are trying to kill me . . ."

"Potter," Snape said dangerously, and Harry stopped. He would have thought that Snape,of all people, would understand. There were Dark Arts spells in his textbooks from his first year books, for crying out loud, and Harry didn't use them for evil.

But, he couldn't argue that he was drawn to them. They felt . . . right.

Snape looked torn. "Your mother would not have approved," he said simply, and Harry knew he was referring to Lily Potter. "She abhorred the Dark Arts and everything about them." Harry just stared at the floor. "Where are the rest of the books?"

Not looking up, Harry pointed to the bookshelf. A few minutes later, Snape sat next to him, causing the old mattress to sit funny. He moved to get comfortable again, and finally looked up at his professor.

His brother.

"Some of those spells saved my life," Harry finally said. "I'm not sorry I know them. And I'm not sorry I used them."

"I know," Snape said.

"Besides, how can I learn Defense Against the Dark Arts if I don't actually know the Dark Arts? That makes no sense."

"I know," Snape said again before turning to face him. "But you cannot be practicing the Dark Arts."

"How come you hate me so much?" Harry asked, suddenly angry. "I mean, okay, I understand at first, you hated my dad – James – but I'm not just a Potter anymore!"

"I didn't know," Snape said, and that had a calming effect on Harry. "To me, you were still Potter's son, the spoiled brat. I'm still not quite sure you aren't."

Harry glared at the man sitting next to him. "I never knew him," Harry spat. "Downstairs? That man is the only father I can remember. And my uncle? The most meaningful conversation he ever had with me was, 'Don't have kids, we don't need more freaks in the world.' I'm sick of people comparing me to him. I mean, he's still my dad, and I wish I knew him, but all I have of him are stories and pictures!"

Harry breathed deep. He didn't mean to go off on Snape like that and he sat tense, expecting Snape to yell at him, like usual.

No yelling came, though. Instead, a tentative hand was placed on his shoulder. Harry looked up to find Snape with the strangest look he had ever seen on the man's face. Briefly, Harry wondered if he was trying to not yell at him, belittle him, like he usually did.

Harry tried to relax and, eventually, Snape stood up.

"We need to get you your school supplies," he said simply, leaving the room.

Sighing, Harry looked around his room that had clothes and books and parchment scattered on the floor. He hadn't packed yet and wondered if Snape was going to just drop him back off at the house to let him find his own way to London.

Probably, Harry thought, following Snape downstairs after grabbing his school list. Their father was sitting in the living room, staring at the telly, beer in hand. He didn't bother saying goodbye as he followed Snape outside.

"Hold on to my arm tightly," Snape said sharply once they were outside. "We're going to apparate."

"We're going to what?" Harry asked. Snape didn't answer, but Harry grabbed the man's arm anyway. He didn't want Snape leaving without him. Without warning, Harry felt as if he were being pulled through a thin, plastic tube. Once they landed, Harry was sure that he would have puked had he eaten that day.

Looking around, Harry found they were in Diagon Alley, and the smells from the surrounding restaurants reminded him how hungry he was.

"Can I get something to eat?" Harry asked before realizing he needed to go to Gringotts before they did any shopping. Snape stopped short and looked at him closely.

"How much food was in the house?" Snape finally asked.

"Er . . . a few cans of beans, I think. I finished the bread last night."

"You had beans for breakfast?"

"No . . ." Harry said. "I haven't eaten anything yet."

Before continuing down the street, Snape glared at him. "We will stop for food quickly, then get your supplies. I don't want to waste my entire day in Diagon Alley."

"I need to stop at Gringotts, yet," Harry pointed out. Snape shot him another look and Harry followed him to the closest restaurant feeling glum.

At the table, waiting for their food, Harry played with his napkin, feeling awkward. "So, it's a little strange, right?"

"What is, Potter?"

"The fact that you hate me, and it turns out we're brothers."

Snape didn't say anything at first, his face completely blank. "I'm beginning to see that my . . . opinions of you might have been a bit bias," he said slowly. "But you break too many rules, get into trouble too much."

"I don't try to," Harry said. "I didn't want to join the Triwizard Tournament or go into the Chamber of Secrets. There just never seems to be another option." They sat in silence for awhile as their food arrived.

"Is father treating you alright?" Snape asked him, and Harry shrugged at his food, eating his chips one at a time. "Answer."

"It could be worse," Harry answered, annoyed and not really wanting to talk about it. "He leaves me alone, mostly, and I try to avoid him when he's drinking."

From Snape's look, Harry guessed that he knew what their father was like when he'd been drinking. Harry looked at Snape's plate. For wanting to get out of here, he sure isn't eating very fast, Harry thought.

"Has he hit you?"

Harry looked down, which seemed to be enough of an answer for Snape.

"I'm . . ." Snape paused, and Harry just sat, eating, crouched over his plate. He really didn't want to talk about this. "How would you feel if I overtook your guardianship?"

Harry looked up sharply. "What?"

"Father is incompetent as a guardian," Snape explained. "Mother was the only help I had, growing up." Harry narrowed his eyes.

"What would I have to do?" Harry asked. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Do as I say," Snape said flatly, and Harry continued to stare at Snape.

On the one hand, Snape was his brother and was acting sort of nice to him at the moment. He hasn't yelled, at least. On the other hand, Snape had hated him from the second he set eyes on him his first year at Hogwarts, and Harry had hated him back.

Which was worse, Professor Snape, or Drunk Dad?

"So . . . I would live with you," Harry stated, and Snape nodded. "Could I still visit Ron?" Snape nodded once, and Harry could tell he was getting annoyed with the questions. Mixed feelings on the matter, Harry continued eating, thinking.

He bought me lunch, Harry thought. It can't be worse than any of my other living arrangements.

"Yeah," Harry eventually said. "Yeah. Okay."

Snape nodded, and Harry felt a bit better than he had in awhile.

A/N: I'm doing this story snapshot-form; each snapshot will actually be a oneshot. As I'm working on a full-length fan fiction (Harry Potter and the Ripple Effect), I don't really have time to flesh this out into a long story on top of RL stuff, but I had this idea and fell in love with it, so I'll be posting oneshots as they come to me. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!