AN: I know I was planning to do a sequel for Quarantine, but due to extenuating circumstances in my life I need to write something else right now. This is a deeply personal story for me, so if it seems random and different, I'm sorry for that - working out my own angst. Though neither me nor my family is like Harry and Snape in real life, writing Snape always feels like a balm to my soul. But if there's anybody out there that has either been thirteen or raised a thirteen year old and would like to give me a fist bump of solidarity, I would appreciate it. I'm not 100% sure where my muse is taking me here, but just to be safe here's all the standard warnings – No, I'm not JK Rowling nor do I intend to become her at any point, there may be violence, strong language, and spanking of children in this story. Though this story has some commonality with other stories I have written, it is in its own universe and non-canonical. Snape may seem a little out of character at first in this story, but I am also assuming that his raising Harry for the past twelve years has had some effect on him. But don't worry, he's still Snape.

Snape sat on his chair at Spinner's end feeling weary. It had been a hard day surely – overhauling his lesson plans and answering endless letters from Slytherin parents had been enough to wear out any Head of House. But he knew the real reason that he was tired – it was Harry. He knew enough about child development to know that thirteen was often a tough age for any kid. And when the first signs of rebellion started rearing this summer, he didn't have the heart to stamp it down in Harry as it had been stamped down in himself. It hadn't worked anyway – and he hated his own father for trying. So he tolerated the rolled eyes, gave mundane consequences for the most egregious of the behaviors, but mostly just resigned himself to waiting the worst of it out.

But, as he poured his evening tea, he decided to be honest with himself. That precocious toddler that he had taken in on that cold November morning had completely transformed his life and he had dedicated his life to raising him. He had never expected to raise Harry, and frankly neither had anyone else. But Sirius had turned out to be the betrayer of the Potters and had killed Peter Pettigrew as well as twelve muggles, Lupin was a werewolf, and when he had gone with Dumbledore to deliver Harry to the Dursleys that had gone rather poorly as well. His heart breaking for Lily, he had determined to make sure he saw her son somewhere safe. But when Dumbledore had insisted on the Dursleys, of course Snape had been skeptical. He had grown up with Petunia as well as Lily, and even given that people could grow it would be hard to believe she could raise Harry.

"They are the worst sort of muggles," he heard Professor McGonagall tell Dumbledore as he placed the precious bundle on the porch, clearly not approving of the decision.

"But they are his family," Dumbledore answered. "He cannot be raised in our world, the center of everything – can you imagine what that will be like for a child?"

"Are muggles really the best alternative?" Minerva asked.

"I'm sure of it," Dumbledore assured her. "I will leave a note with him and explain everything."

"Are you not even going to meet with them face to face?" Snape asked in shock.

"I think a note should be plenty," Dumbledore answered. "They will find Harry waiting on the porch for them first thing in the morning. Only a few hours now."

"You can't," Snape told him, gasping. "You just can't. You must wake them . . ."

"But then they might . . ."

"Might what?" McGonagall asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Might refuse," Snape answered, eyeing Dumbledore carefully. Then, in full sight of both of them, he leaned forward and pressed the doorbell.

"That was not well done . . ." Dumbledore growled at him, his face heavy with disappointment.

"But necessary," McGonagall said. "At least Severus has some sense."

"But what . . ." Dumbledore began, but was interrupted by shrieking from a long-necked woman in a pink bathrobe.

"Do calm yourself, my dear," Dumbledore tried to say in a soothing voice. "It is I, professor Dumbledore. You wrote to me as a girl, remember?"

"Is this a dream?" she asked, clearly flummoxed.

"Not a dream," he told her kindly. "But I'm afraid I have some rather bad news. When was the last time you talked with Lily?"

"When she married that lout," she spat. "We quarreled and haven't really spoken since. She's tried a few times to mend things, but my husband doesn't like their kind."

"Oh dear," Dumbledore told her. "I'm so sorry about that. I'm afraid that I must tell you that Lily and James were killed this evening, but fortunately Harry was able to survive . . ."

"I'm not taking him," Petunia told him flatly, all fear in her voice completely gone. "If that's why you've come you can go again."

"But surely you cannot mean that . . ."

"Who is it?" a voice from within the house asked.

"Nothing, just a stray!" she called back, and then faced Dumbledore with a fierce whisper. "I mean what I say! I won't take him!"

"There are ways of forcing you . . ." Dumbledore told her with a firm voice.

"If you force me to keep him I will make his childhood as miserable as I possibly can without actually getting arrested for child abuse!" she declared with energy.

"Well, at least he would be alive . . ." Dumbledore reasoned.

"You cannot be serious!" McGonagall spat.

Snape watched the entire exchange with trepidation, hardly believing what he was seeing. He knew that Dumbledore always looked at the big picture, but he couldn't believe Dumbledore would consider this.

"He has to be with someone who shares his mother's blood," Dumbledore explained. "Or his mother's sacrifice won't protect him."

"How much blood?" Petunia calculated.

"Any amount would do," Dumbledore answered her.

"Well then, you have your answer with that frightful scarecrow right there," she answered harshly, gesturing to Snape. "I caught them doing a blood bond ritual when they were children. There's your blood. Do go away!"

With that, she slammed the door just loud enough to get her point across but not loud enough to raise suspicions for her husband. All eyes slid to Severus.

"We were thirteen," Snape explained with a sigh. "We wanted to do something to show we would be friends forever. I had forgotten."

"Those are against the rules at Hogwarts!" McGonagall exclaimed. "And they don't really work, either."

"Obviously."

"It could work . . ." Dumbledore eyed Snape up and down with speculation. "It could work."

Snape drank his tea, wondering what made him think of that encounter. The year following had been absolutely insane for him, he had not the first idea about childcare and suddenly he had an infant who was grieving his parents to look after. But slowly Harry and he grew used to each other, and with the help of a couple of Hogwarts house elves specifically picked by Dumbledore and more than one floo call to Molly Weasley he was able to figure out the basic care of a child. It was probably two months in when Harry fell asleep on his lap as they sat before the fire, Snape engrossed in reading his potions quarterly, that suddenly Snape realized how normal this suddenly all felt. And a month later when Harry called him "Dada" for the first time, he smiled back, thinking it felt right. His heart still ached for Lily, but loving and taking care of her child really did help heal his heart. And Harry was such an easy child to love as well – Snape felt as if all he did was open his arms and Harry crawled right into them.

There had been harder times of course. He had had to explain to Harry about Lily and James' death, and that he was technically just Harry's foster father. The ministry remained suspicious of Severus despite Dumbledore's explanation of the fact that nobody else could serve as Harry's parent, so they never allowed for adoption and inspected their home with surprise inspections at least twice a year. In the early days he received odd looks from many that had been friends of the Potters and thought it odd that he would be selected to raise their child, but he had also had support from unexpected quarters. Molly Weasley had become one of his biggest champions, helping him home school Harry when he came of age and answering the multitude of questions that always seemed to crop up. He was shocked at how much he ended up valuing the Gryffindor's advice.

Harry had grown up loved and educated, though slightly unconventionally. Snape knew he would weather this newest stage of Harry's just as he had weathered the terrible twos and the independent sixes and the anxious elevens before starting school. Although, he had to admit that this one was hurting his feelings more than he expected. When Harry had given him such terrible cheek and then told him that he hated him . . . well, Snape's heart had really broken underneath his cool exterior. Harry had later apologized, even before Snape had assigned him chores as a consequence, but the words had been spoken.

Snape shook his head in disbelief even at the memory – though he had thought it many times of his father, he would never have dared to say it. Even the smallest bit of cheek would have earned him the belt, true disobedience could have been even worse. Harry had no idea how hard he worked to be fair and kind to him, and how much he fought his demons to try and be the kind of father Lily would have wanted him to be. And that time when Harry told him that he hated him – well that boy had come closer to receiving a hiding like one from Snape's childhood than Snape would care to admit. But he had breathed through it, remained calm, and dealt with Harry reasonably.

If we can survive thirteen we can survive anything, Snape thought, finishing his tea and congratulating himself on not killing Harry that day, nor even beating him within an inch of his life. Perhaps he would try to do something fun with Harry after he completed his punishment tomorrow, Snape contemplated as he watched the flames. There was only about a month until he was due at Hogwarts, so it would be good think of some things they could do together in the latter part of summer. It might even help with this seemingly difficult stage he was in.

Suddenly, his flame roared and he heard Dumbledore's voice, "Severus, may I come through?"

"Of course," Severs answered, his eyes flicking to the clock and his brow slightly creasing in worry. A visit this time of night was never good news.

"How is Harry this evening?" Dumbledore asked.

"Thirteen," Snape asked, arching an eyebrow. "Tea?"

"Don't mind if I do," Dumbledore answered. "Is everyone well?"

"We are well," Snape answered, his eyes flicking in annoyance. He couldn't handle the slow torture of Dumbledore "breaking the news gently" any longer. "Please get to the point."

"This is a copy of a motion filed today," Dumbledore told him. "I'm afraid it's not great news, in fact it's rather shocking. But I need your promise that you won't over-react."

"Just give me the motion," Snape growled, his eyes narrowing. "You don't need to protect me."

"It's not you I'm protecting," Dumbledore told him, handing him the paper.