Harry wiped the sweat off of his forehead, yanking at a particularly stubborn weed that seemed to be taunting him as the sun beat down on his bare neck. The baggy t-shirt she wore nearly reached his kneecaps, and the collar of it was so stretched from Dudley's head-sized, short neck that it looked for all the world as if the Boy-Who-Lived was wearing an eighties style one-shouldered shirt. The other side kept slipping down too, and he was dangerously close to showing the whole neighborhood his scrawny pectoral muscles..

His black hair was so wet it was actually lying flat, but his green eyes were heavy with his exhaustion. He had been weeding for three hours now and wondered absentmindedly if Aunt Petunia was trying to kill him for waking her up screaming every night, or if she just genuinely liked seeing him out here dying of sunstroke. He knew he could just go to Mrs. Figg's if he needed to get away from all this, but it seemed like giving in to Harry, and he wouldn't give Petunia the satisfaction.

Unaware he was being watched, he took a small bit of something from his pocket. It was Sirius' mirror fragment. He had taken to carrying it since the beginning of summer, after seeing those eyes staring back at him. This time there was nothing there but his own reflection, and he sighed softly before tucking it away.

He missed Sirius terribly, which felt barmy to say when he had met the man so few times even after finding out he was Harry's godfather, but the fact remained that if Sirius were alive, Harry could be living with him now. He could be at Grimmauld Place killing doxies and discarding of dark trinkets, slapping tape spelled to never come off over the top of his mum's batty old portrait.

Instead he was here with the Dursleys. Life had never promised to be fair, but sometimes Harry wondered why it was always determined to give him a shot in the pills.

The dark-haired man watching him sneered in derision, still finding it hard to believe that Potter hadn't done something to deserve this back-breaking labor he was doing. Severus Snape had been charged with the boy's safety yes, but he had never promised to like him. Still, what he had seen in the boy's memories was abuse, clear-cut and without frills. Black was dead now, and it was better to let sleeping dogs lie…but Severus hadn't been able to sleep for the last two weeks. Not with Lily's accusing eyes glaring at him, silently castigating.

He was a bitter, cynical bastard. But if the Potter boy was really treated ill for no reason... it was his duty to Lily to be sure he was removed from the care of these muggles. So far he had seen the boy doing more chores than a house elf. He was fed less than the toad he called cousin, and was locked in his room at night with three deadbolts. As if a locking door could keep the Potter brat out of mischief.

But that was just the issue. The boy had done nothing as far as Snape could surmise, to warrant being locked away (besides being James Potter's very likeness). He did his chores, let his cousin treat him like garbage, and silently endured his Aunt and Uncle telling him how no-good he really was. He never even shot them that defiant, patented Potter-glare. The one that Snape knew meant he had baited once too often.

So they didn't beat him. That was one thing to be blessed about. He would have ripped his own greasy locks out if he had been that wrong about the boy's life. Petunia smacked the back of his head one day, and the teenage cousin would punch his arm or shove him, but the boy was not physically abused beyond this. Still, he was used as a house-elf, had no decent muggle clothes, was purposely underfed, and the money the Dursleys were receiving from the Potter Fund (The Orphaned Boy-Who-Lived Fund, established after the death of his parents by bleeding-heart wizards, to be exact) was being squandered on Dudley Dursley every month.

Really, he had done very detailed research on the financial aspect of this matter. There was no quicker way to get results than to inform people their charitable deed had been turned into a malicious thing. And Petunia was indeed malicious with her spending of the Potter Fund. She would take the muggle money she received and use it to take her son out for new things once a month, saving the receipts in her pocketbook until the end of the day, as if to commemorate her one-upping the memory of her sister.

As if she was worth one of Lily's toenails. As if she was good enough to even have Potter's cast off child. He may have hated the man, but Petunia Dursley was the lowest, most wretched woman he could ever remember to have walked the earth. She repeatedly told the boy he was taking food from his cousin's mouth, when in reality the fat lump would have none of his expensive things if Harry Potter didn't live in the house.

Severus Snape left on foot, apparating when he was far enough away. Invisibility charms were hard to cast, but it had been worth it. Now her damned eyes might be a little less reproachful. A little more kindly gleaming, with perhaps the hint of a smile.

Snape was a man of many eccentricities. He hated the Potter boy but was obligated to save him ,so he knew no better way to convince the Headmaster than to show him the memories. Granted, having Minerva, the Weasley mother and father, and that ragged wolf Lupin there had not been in his plans. When he had informed him the meeting was about Potter, and that it was as serious a meeting as Severus himself had ever asked for, the old fool had decided to make it even more uncomfortable for him.

Part of him thought he was trying to ease the minds of some Order members regarding Snape's allegiances. As if it was any of their concern.

He went over everything, from what he had gleaned in Occlumency lessons to his own investigations. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes dimmed degree by degree, as if there was a sun behind them that was slowly dying.

Then the shite really started to fly. The Weasleys mentioned bars on the windows, and how they had believed it was just one of the twins many fabrications, Lupin was shocked into inaction throughout. Minerva though, far from being stolid and composed, was glaring at Albus as if she might beat him about the head and shoulders with her wand .

All in all, it was about as melodramatic as it could have been. Snape just sat there, eyes flat and face unreadable. When everyone in the room finally finished being shocked or talking about what they could have done differently, Snape finally spoke.

" Now that the rather Gryffindorish tradition of being egotistical enough to accept blame for acts you did not perpetuate is over, I for one am curious as to whether or not anyone is going to do something about the situation, instead of just squandering all my hours of observation. It's obvious the brat needs new accommodations. "

Dumbledore nodded, looking for all the world as if he had aged eighty years in an hour. He stroked his bearded face for a moment.

"I am afraid there are not many worthy candidates for the position Severus. Even disregarding the protections Harry has at the Dursleys, I cannot adopt him. I am single, too old, and I have my Headmaster duties to attend to, or so they will say when I file my petition to adopt him. Arthur and Molly have too many children of their own to take in another. The only choices I can see that are essentially safe are you or Remus. Remus would have a devil of a time getting approved, and even if we did get the petition signed and Harry agreed to the adoption, we would be exposing him to the scrutiny of the Wizarding World."

Arthur looked to be bristling at Dumbledore's rather frank dismissal of Molly and himself. Severus however, was starting to get annoyed.

"Are you telling me that he has a shortage of available dupes who will take him in, Albus? If so, then you must be listening to his Aunt when she tells him how nobody wants the insufferable… Minerva, Pomona, Filius, hell, even Hagrid would adopt him! Instead you are trying to persuade me that your most viable options are not the family with a thousand children who are all tolerably intelligent and decent, or the old man with the bloody twinkly eyes , mounds of political clout, and pockets for of candy. No, you want me to believe the best in your arsenal for potential parental figures are a Death Eater who cannot stand the child, and a financially unstable werewolf who would eat the boy before he would know how to care for him."

The whole room was silent after Snape's monotone dressing down of the Headmaster. The man couldn't believe he had done it himself. It was just infuriating having this man who knew everything tell him an obvious lie about Potter's options... Unless Dumbledore himself didn't think he could get the boy into a home that wasn't in the Order. Did he really think that many wizards would turn the boy over to the Dark Lord?

The owl was ragged and tired after flying three different places looking for Severus Bloody Snape, of all people. Not only did the man refuse to stroke his feathers or give him a treat when he delivered messages, he insisted on being so hard to reach that a simple drop-off turned into a hours long ordeal.

He scented him and veritably flew into the headmaster's oval office window, scratching at the panes with his claws. The barn-owl refused to be held up anymore, and when a older woman opened the window with a wave of her wand, the bird began pelting Snape with its generous wingspan until he got the letter off. Fluttering out, he gave a vengeful hoot to the potions master, who looked about to screech with ire at this point.

They had been arguing about the Potter child for neigh on three hours now.

He saw the script on the letter though, and the sounds in the room muted to his ears.

The scrawl was as familiar as breathing. He had torn quite a few rude signs off of his back with this hand-writing.

Potter has come back from the grave to write him a letter. Severus slid the tape open and the first thing to fall out was a picture of a baby boy. He had Snapes ridiculous nose and dark hair, Lily's eyes, and a tiny infants outfit on that featured zooming snitches, bludgers, and quaffles on a blue background. Lily was holding the child in her arms.

Snape felt the strength in his legs nearly give out as the letter fluttered out of the envelope and into his hand. It had been waiting to be delivered for a very, very long time.

Snape-

There was never any love lost between us. I was a flaming ass at the best of times, but somehow I got Lily and you got that damned Mark on your arm. You paid us back though, didn't you? You told Him about the prophecy, and now I can't sleep through a single night without thinking about how he will come here and try to kill them both.

If you are receiving this, it means everything has gone to shit. Harry has lost both his parents, and is in danger. And you are worried about him. You want to help him. If you didn't you would never have seen this at all. You are probably wondering about this picture, and I'll tell you what I know.

Lily and I were about to get married and had a huge row the night before. She said she couldn't go through with it and left. The next day she showed up and we made things right and got hitched. Then nine or so months later, I have a Snape in the cradle. You can imagine how well that went over.

You got the last laugh, you bastard. But I fell in love with Lily, and it was impossible not to forgive her when she told me everything. I never realized you two had that sort of friendship, or that I effectively stole her from under your misshapen nose while you were struggling with your own problems. She sowed her wild oats with you that night and put it behind her forever. Or so she thought. But Lilly knew people who could fix it, make the baby look like us.

I love Harry, and I know he will call me his father. I wanted to be. But if you are reading this then why on earth should Lily and I matter? The kid is alone and for some reason you are there to aid him in some way. That is something a father does, Snape. Do what you want with this information, burn it or consider taking this kid as your own. The illusions will only last for so long anyway. Dumbledore should know how to get rid of them, once he's aware they are there.

-Potter

Snape was trembling. He never trembled, never. Not even after Potter and Black tried to kill him. Not after he had found Lily gone the next morning, the morning after she had shown up on his doorstep and kissed him.

Potter was his son.

Harry woke up with someone banging on the door to Dudley's spare room like they were going to break down the door. He rolled off the bed and scooped up a wand, ready to cast a defensive spell, when the thing flew off of the hinges, A purple-faced Vernon Dursley flying through it and into the opposing wall. He slumped down after the impact, dazed and a bit sick looking. Harry didn't lower his wand until he saw Dumbledore's face behind Snape.

Snape himself didn't even stop to speak to Harry, though that wasn't a big surprise to the boy. Instead he scooped Uncle Vernon off of the floor and began casting several quietly whispered spells. Memories leaked out of the man's ears in silver torrents, all to fill a very large phial Snape held in his hand. Corking it after, Snape cast a rather terse spell that seemed to put the fat man to sleep.

Dumbledore walked over to Harry, taking his arm in that familiarly grandfather-ish way he had. His eyes were so serious Harry couldn't even say a word before the Headmaster began to speak.

"Professor Snape and I have some things to discuss with your relatives Harry. We have arranged for you to portkey to the Burrow for now, but one of us will be along after a day or so to explain some things. I will pack your trunk and then you may go."

He heard his Aunt Petunia raging at someone downstairs. It must have been Tonks, because he heard her mention a wonky-haired freak. Dumbledore waved his wand, spoke his spell, and the trunk packed itself and shrunk to fit into Harry's palm. Hedwig seemed to roll her eyes as she hurriedly flew out of the window, leaving Dumbledore to shrink her cage as well. She would not be port-keyed anywhere when she could stretch her wings instead.

" But Headm-"

That was as far as Harry got before Snape rounded on the boy, his eyes wide with rage. Harry found himself uncharacteristically frightened of him. He was as purple-faced as Vernon at this point, and his finger almost touched Harry's nose .

"DO NOT QUESTION YOUR ELDERS POTTER! TAKE THE DAMN PORTKEY BEFORE I HEX YOU INTO AN EARLY GRAVE, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Harry felt the familiar cheekiness rise up in his throat, then thought of Sirius, falling slowly back into the veil. He held his hand out for the object, and when Dumbledore pressed a dirty acorn into it, tapped it with his wand, and Harry felt that familiar tug behind his navel, he sighed as he disappeared.

The room upstairs was quiet. Snape's enraged breaths were the only sound in the room, and Albus looked over the top of his half-moon glasses at him.

"Meaning to take up where Tobias left off? If you mean to alienate the boy I hope you know that I will try and take him from you, Severus. He doesn't deserve to be screamed at."

Severus shot the man a glare before thinking before he spoke. Dumbledore could and would make good on that promise if he hurt the brat. But he had simply been overwhelmed in the last day or so. Not only was the brat not living the charmed life of a hero, but he was a Snape. He and Lily Potter's damned "love" child.

" If you can spare pity for almost everyone else, including these damn muggles, then try to pinch up a spoonful for me as well. "

Sighing, he turned to go downstairs and get Petunia and the boy's memories of the abuse they had inflicted on Potter. Now that he had a blood relative to live with the transfer of guardianship would be effortless, but Severus wanted to eviscerate the Dursleys.

After that.. then he would worry about Potter.