CHAPTER 10

"Ah, Severus. What-"

"The boy clings to me like a two year old to its mother," Severus interrupted— something he never did except in extreme circumstances.

"Oh?" Dumbledore said mildly, his eyes beginning to twinkle.

"It must stop."

The twinkle was gone immediately. The headmaster was no fool; he knew this was no fit of pique. "I see, and your reasons are...?"

"Very simple," Severus finished the sentence. "The boy is succumbing to the Bond's emotional manipulation, and expects me to respond in kind. If I push him away, the Bond will punish him for presuming— which we cannot have if he is to remain healthy and sane." He took care to keep his tone neutral. Tricking Albus Dumbledore was not something one did lightly.

"And what do you propose be done about it, Severus?" Dumbledore was being difficult to read, as well.

"I convince him once and for all that keeping up this charade is pointless. He will be disappointed, but—"

"You seem quite well-tuned to his feelings, Severus." There didn't seem to be a threat hidden in the sentence (Are you taking advantage of the Bond to dig into his mind?), but Severus stiffened anyway. Dumbledore's expression softened. "You are affected by the Bond yourself, aren't you, my boy?"

Severus relaxed a little at the ridiculously familiar endearment. Boy, indeed. Not that he could blame Dumbledore —Severus himself was even more hopeless where a certain green-eyed brat was concerned. "I...am, a little,"he admitted. It was the truth and yet not the truth. A great deal of what he had shown to the boy had, after all, been pretence. Severus dug his nails into his palms, allowing his frustration to show. He did not want to play this game with Dumbledore, too; but he had no choice— the headmaster would always take the boy's side, so Severus needed to make sure he wouldn't force the two of them into a relationship.

For a moment, rage filled him: rage at Potter for putting him in this situation; rage at Dumbledore, who would always take the Gryffindor's side; rage at himself for stooping to this. If Potter so wanted it, you would hand me to him on a platter as though I were the slave, wouldn't you, Dumbledore? Force me to look after his every need, never mind his past misdeeds? Perhaps he was being paranoid, but the reality came close and he knew it. I don't want this! I don't want to lie to him and cheat him! But the pair of you have together left me with no choice—and frankly, Potter probably deserves it.

"Do you truly believe there is no hope for the two of you to get around your differences, then?" Dumbledore snapped him out of his brooding.

Severus relaxed again. If he was being asked an opinion, it wasn't very likely he'd be ordered to play father figure to Potter. His stomach churned in revulsion at the thought. "If Potter and I became…close, it would... throw me off balance, so to speak," he forced himself to say. That wasn't a complete lie, either. "The mental Bond between us grows stronger as he grows further attached to me, and—" Severus' breath hitched at this point.

He closed his eyes and turned away from the compassion on Dumbledore's face. What was wrong with him? He wasn't supposed to be this affected by Potter's antics, no matter how stupidly endearing!

"... Occlumency is of very little use against this Bond, as you very well know, Dumbledore. In the Dark Lord's presence, a liability such as this would be fatal." The Bond did protect his mind, but that would be of no use if Severus's composure was lost thanks to worrying over the brat.

"For you as well as the Order," Dumbledore murmured. Well, at least he was being put first, Severus thought resentfully, and then stopped. Since when did he care if he lived or died? For sixteen years now he had been ready to follow Lily (his duties were certainly not attractive enough for him to wish to live)— what had changed?

"I cannot judge the difficulty caused by the Bond, Severus, only you can. I suspect Harry will be devastated if you break off your growing rapport" — Severus might have scoffed at that if he didn't know it to be utterly, terrifyingly true — "he has been through so much in so little time, I fear this may push him over the edge. And you, Severus, may need him more than you think. For your own sake as well as his, I ask you to reconsider... He is very happy with you, Severus," Dumbledore ended, speaking gently now.

Severus looked away, pride and shame warring in his chest. Pride and shame were near constants in his life now, especially after the child came to him for comfort and rewarded him with his smiling emerald eyes. Reconsider! He had spent night after sleepless night with the child in his arms, agonising over this decision!

"If there is nothing to change your mind," the headmaster sighed, "... then do what you must."

I always do, Dumbledore.

Severus woke with a strong feeling of pain and distress that was not his own. Realising what it meant, he growled as he headed for his door, throwing on his robe along the way. He took care to Occlude as he emerged into the living room. It wouldn't do Potter any good to know how angry he really was.

I don't believe I have ever been this confused in my entire life. It was starting to wear him out. He was a triple agent and had played a part for many years now. Deception was practically a way of life for him. But this farce with Potter was taking deceit to an all-new level: to the extent that the line between truth and ruse had blurred even for the liar.

He really hated the Bond.

The cause of all this trouble was currently kneeling outside the door to his quarters, clutching his head. Severus smoothed his furious expression into one of mild concern. The boy began babbling an apology as soon as Severus entered his field of vision, and Severus raised a finger for silence before pulling the pint-sized boy up and into an embrace. He grimaced at the contact, knowing Potter's face was turned away and that he couldn't see.

As a rule, apologies were insincere efforts to avoid the consequences of wrongdoing, and a waste of time. They were good for humiliating the one doing the apologizing, but as means to set things right they were worse than useless. Lily had taught him that, after he had apologised for what he was convinced would be the last time in his life. Oh, he had sobbed endless apologies to her after that horrible Halloween, hoping she would hear him, wherever she was; but sense had reasserted itself during those first few long, bitter months. It was too late for apologies. Actions were all that mattered, and all he had left.

"I'm sorry, Professor," the boy said again, leaning into Severus' shoulder. Severus closed his eyes. Potter was not the only one whom the Bond had infected with sentimental foolishness. He had to fight it on a regular basis, what with Potter's every thought and feeling being laid open to him.

"And why," Severus whispered, "were you heading out of my quarters at the dead of night? A rendezvous with a few bloodthirsty Death Eaters, perhaps?" He realized too late that he had used 'my' instead of 'our' to refer to their living situation. The truth would out, sometimes, it seemed. Oh, well. He was tired of pretending, even if it was for a convoluted form of revenge. He wanted the Potter brat gone from his life, not lounging in his embrace as if he belonged there.

The child had noticed. He cringed, recognising the ominous note in Severus' soft tones. "My birthday presents usually arrive at midnight," he said timidly. "I just wanted to go up to the Owlery to get them."

"And did it never occur to you," Severus said, "that the reason you are confined to these quarters is not so I can enjoy the pleasure of your company, but for your own safety? Was being kidnapped from within the school once not enough for you?"

Potter was shrinking further and further away from him, as though he were trying to make himself less visible. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Interesting. For the umpteenth time, Severus pondered the differences between the arrogant brat he knew when school was in session, and the rather quiet, shy child currently invading his quarters and his mind. He didn't think he'd heard Potter apologise this much even to McGonagall or Dumbledore. As if to prove the point, the boy's emotions washed across their mental link, all contrite and miserable and fearful of offending. Also present in this flood were memories of numerous birthdays past spent alone, with nary a well-wish, let alone a present. Severus gritted his teeth in helpless anger as the Bond did its work.

He ran a hand over the boy's cheek, feeling him go lax with relief. When had his opinion begun to matter so much to Harry Potter? "I did not realise," Severus said, much gentler than he had intended. "I will have the owls bring the presents here."

"Really?" Potter's eyes were wide and shining with surprise and joy. The green eyes pierced Severus as they always did—with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia and loss. "Thanks, Professor!"

Severus got out his wand and did as he had promised, before retreating to his room to watch the boy through a crack in his doorway. Every time he tried to distance himself from Potter, something like this would happen. He watched the joy on the boy's face as he unwrapped those few presents, and made up his mind.

Fool, he said to himself. Must you dig yourself in deeper?

Potter bent over the Pensieve- rather hesitantly, Severus thought, probably due to their history with the objects.

The memory was out of Severus' seventh year as a student, during the Yule Ball. Potter the senior had secured the affections of the woman of his dreams at long last, and had been making no effort to keep his euphoria secret. Severus had stood alongside the Death Eaters in the glimmering Hall, trying not to watch Lily in the arms of the man he hated more than anyone in the world, and trying to calm the storm of pain and resentment and longing and loss that still raged within him whenever he looked at her. Occlumency had been his refuge, even then. He had felt a twinge of pride when he'd successfully kept any emotion from showing on his face as he watched Potter twirl his red-haired beauty round and round the Great Hall.

Later that night, he'd heard that Lily Evans was engaged to James Potter.

What had possessed him to hand over the memory of a triumphant Potter to said bully's son, he didn't know. He did, however, know that the younger Potter would enjoy the sight of his parents on their first dance.

Pathetic, he thought, unsure whether he was addressing the overemotional teen or himself.

The child emerged from the memory with flushed cheeks. Catching sight of Severus standing in the doorway of his bedroom, he jumped down from the chair he was standing on (in order to reach the table) and strode purposefully towards him. Instinctively reading his intention, Severus held out his arms and swung the boy up onto his hip. Potter immediately buried his head in Severus' neck.

"Why don't you hate me anymore?" the boy said, very softly.

Severus tensed, and then forced himself to relax. "It is rather difficult to hate you after one has been inside your mind the way I now have," he replied truthfully, keeping his voice as low as the boy's. But I sincerely hope I can manage it.

"Thank you, Professor," Potter murmured after a pause during which he showed no intention of ending the embrace. His voice trembled. "I think that was the best birthday present I've ever had."

A hundred points to Slytherin, I suppose, Severus congratulated himself half-heartedly. He had won Potter's trust enough that the boy had dared to initiate an embrace.

Potter rubbed his cheek against Severus's shoulder. He wanted to push the presumptuous boy away. Telling himself it was only an act that would end soon enough, he pulled the boy closer instead, and pressed his lips to his forehead. The child sighed and fairly melted against him. Severus suppressed a smile. He did not enjoy the reactions fatherly physical contact elicited from the child, and he would swear it till his dying day. It was pure pretence when he nipped the boy's ear just to hear him mew and huddle closer.

"Pro-fes-sor…" The boy was whimpering, but he was far from upset. Severus clinically pondered the reason why, and finally decided it had to be the Bond.

He sighed into the boy's hair. "That title seems rather unsuitable now, Harry."

A smile pulled at Potter's mouth. "I've been trying to get you to see that for ages," he said, regaining some of his cheek.

"Brat," Severus muttered. "'Severus' will do."

"Severus," Potter repeated, rather dazedly. The name sounded decidedly strange coming from a student's lips, but Potter's mind radiated joyful approval, so who was he to bridle, Severus thought dryly.

"Harry," Severus said in response. The nervousness in his voice wasn't completely feigned, and Potter seemed to pick up on it at once. "I realise this is not appropriate timing, but today of all days, I feel I owe this to you." Potter inclined his head curiously, and Severus had to fight not to stare. That gesture was so Lily. He easily made his voice go soft and hesitant. "I am... deeply and sincerely sorry for the part I played…in orphaning you. No, shut up." The boy had opened his mouth to protest. He cupped Potter's cheek with his hand. "You seem to have forgotten, idiot Gryffindor that you are, but I was part of the many forces that worked towards the death of your parents. You deserve an apology, at the very least, from one of the people who got them killed." Severus realised to his chagrin that he wasn't even pretending the remorse in his expression now. His throat felt scratchy.

"Only you would insult someone while apologising to them, Severus," Potter said dryly, stressing the name ever so slightly. "Of course you're forgiven," he said, as if that was all there was to it. Then he seemed to hesitate, looking down at his hands that were resting on Severus' chest. "Will…will you forgive me for invading your memories?"

Severus blinked at the audacious boy, his chest constricting. The fear and pleading coming across their link was almost unbearable. Then he came to his senses and kissed the boy's temple, wondering at how naturally paternal it felt. "Yes," he whispered, torn between anger and admiration at the boy's strategy. The child shivered when Severus' lips touched him.

Apologies were generally worse than useless. Now, though, with tears blurring his vision and the unnaturally solemn judge in his arms, Severus wondered. A small hand wiped away the wetness on his cheek. He would have twisted away, but it felt so comforting, he couldn't bring himself to.

A little later, when the boy asked for a second dose of the Regressing potion, Severus suppressed the antagonistic side of his inner battle and decided to enjoy his temporary fatherhood.

So enjoy this while you can, Potter, he thought as he buried his face in the boy's hair.

A/N: Mua-ha-ha. I'm evil. Yes, Snape's been pretending, though the pretence became real at a point. He started the charade as a sick way of revenge; but then the Bond and Harry (and the power of Love) got to him. Poor Snape... Blind, vengeful, idiotic Snape. Serves him right, this conflict.

Although now he's planning to push Harry away properly... Mua-ha— sorry, I'll shut up now.