A/N: Alrighty, here goes the next chapter. I'm on break right now — which should, of course, mean plenty of writing time... however, I've got the homework from hell, coupled with Percy's aging circuits (Percy is my computer. He's got a stick up his... backend. I think the name fits). I'll see what I can do about getting chapters on some sort of schedule... but I don't know. Let me know what you think, please!

Chapter 3 — The Father

"Madame Pomfrey — Professor Flitwick and Professor Parker need your help in the Great Hall," Severus gasped out, panting as he took the last leap into the Infirmary. The day after Harry Potter's appearance at Hogwarts, some things had calmed down at least.

The mediwitch was seated beside young Potter's bed, quietly reading a book. "Shh, he's just gone down for a nap. And you're a professor now, Severus — you really should call me Poppy."

Severus cleared his throat. It was habit — only six years earlier, calling the mediwitch by her given name would warrant a detention. "Yes, Poppy — it's an emergency, however. Profe- er, Filius and Petrus were working with the dueling club again, and a stray Inflamarae -"

"Oooh, not again," she groused, rocketing to her feet. "The same bloody thing happened last time." In mere moments, she'd crossed the room and began digging through her cabinets. "You've a free hour, correct?"

"No, it's my turn to supervise detention. I was passing the hall when I heard Pr- Petrus calling for help. Perhaps he's gone a bit... senile? After all, he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts when I was here..." Severus cleared his throat and gave an uncomfortable shrug. There was no doubt about it — the man was a menace, and had been for years. The dueling club, once a champion in the National Schools of Magic League, had been at the bottom of the rankings for almost two decades.

Pomfrey gave a snort. "He's more than senile. Mark my words, I'll have the dueling club shut down by nightfall. Now, then — could you watch Harry for me? He shouldn't be in here when I bring up the casualties. Burning flesh does smell terribly."

Severus froze. "But — the detention, I have to — I can't take a child there — Poppy, I hate small children -"

"Oh, he'll be a perfect gentleman." She tucked various potions into a bag and tossed the strap over her shoulder, crossing back to Harry's beside. "There now... wake up, dear. I'm needed downstairs."

Harry blinked widely and struggled to sit up. "What's wrong? Is Aunt Petunia here? She'd be mad if she was here — everybody's doing magic." He whispered the last word, giggling nervously. Severus cringed.

"No, no — I told you, sweetheart, Aunt Petunia won't hurt you again. Now, I need you to go play with Severus, here. Will you do as he asks?" Poppy smiled and lifted the boy out of bed. He was dressed in wizarding clothes, now, but looked vaguely uncomfortable wearing the robes. Frankly, Severus wasn't fond of formal, old-fashioned robes either. There were more than a few painful memories attatched to a wrinkled presentation or two.

Harry nodded somberly and Poppy crossed to Severus, shoving Harry into his arms. "Be good now. Both of you. I'll find you for supper, Harry."

Severus froze, trying desperately not to drop the boy. He'd never held a child in his life. Harry seemed to find the expression of horror on Snape's face quite amusing, as he giggled and gave the professor's hair a tug. "Your hair is just like mine. It's all long and icky. Aunt Petunia tried to give me a haircut, but then it just grew back and was all long again! Mum Pomfrey said it was magic!"

There was a long moment of silence, as Severus panicked. Finally, he cleared his throat to speak. "Er — shall I set you down? I'm required to watch a group of students during their detention."

"What's detention?" Harry snuggled his face against Severus' shoulder and grabbed his collar tightly. Obviously, walking wasn't on the boy's agenda.

Severus gave a sigh of acceptance and started out of the infirmary, taking the back way toward the dungeons. "They broke the school rules. Detention is their punishment. Instead of having fun this evening, they have to sit with me."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Aunt Petunia said I was a bad boy. I didn't have detention, though. She locked me in my cupboard. Is that like detention?"

"No," Severus whispered, unable to speak normally past the lump forming in his throat. "Not at all like detention." Though a lot like being locked in a broom closet when one made a mistake on one's lesson.

The little boy nodded again and snuggled his nose into the folds of Severus' sleeve. So far, looking after the boy wasn't too much of a problem. Well, there would be snot on his shirt, and he'd somehow have to explain the appearance of a little boy to his students without mentioning the name "Harry Potter" but it couldn't be too hard.

He turned the corner and opened the dungeon classroom door. Harry was being quiet. Only one student had arrived for detention — not surprising, since there were still ten minutes before it started. "Hello, Professor Snape!" Dina Lestrange called, looking up from an open book. "Oh, who's that?"

Severus froze up again, staring at the daughter of the couple who'd tried to kill the very boy in his arms in horror. Harry wasn't saying anything — in fact, it looked as though he'd managed to fall asleep. "I — er, this is- I mean -"

Dina lept to her feet, grinning madly. "Oooh, whose is he? He's Parker's love-child, isn't he! I knew the old man was acting oddly!"

"NO- no, he's certainly not -" Severus growled, cutting himself off. "Just — drop it, please. You're here for a detention. What did you do this time?"

The fourth-year Slytherin shrugged. "Threatened the Hufflepuff potrait. Filch caught me in the act. So whose is he? Little kids aren't allowed at Hogwarts, unless they belong to a professor. Is he one of Madame Pomfrey's great-grandchildren? I heard she has a few."

Severus sighed and adjusted Harry's position. The boy wasn't light. Well, he was light for his age, actually, but Severus wasn't used to carrying small children around. Harry made an irritated grunt and turned his face.

Dina gasped, staring at the little boy. With a wince, Severus readied himself to give a reason that he, supposedly a firm supporter of Voldemort, would be carrying around the very instrument of the Dark Lord's destruction — after all, a Lestrange would know the Dark side of the story — but he was mistaken. "Professor, I'd no idea you were married!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not," Severus snapped. He was about to add more, regardless of the consequences — he couldn't have the girl spreading tales about a son — but his irritated snapping woke the little boy who, in the good tradition of tired youngsters everywhere, began whining for Mum. Or, in this case, Mum Pomfrey'. Before Dina's eyes could widen even farther, Severus shook his head emphatically. "No. Don't even think it. He can't pronounce Madame correctly."

There was no more time for explanations, as the door banged open, and a red-headed flurry entered, followed more sedately by a number of other students, all fourth-years. Thankfully for the lot of them, they weren't late. "Harry, quiet down," Severus snapped, frowning at the boy, whose response was to glare back. At least he'd gone silent. "You're all here for detention. The Headmaster is indisposed — what was the offense?"

The students were all staring at Harry. "Er, fight on the Pitch," a Gryffindor boy — Charles Weasley, Severus remembered — muttered. "Gryffindor Beaters and I had it booked for a special practice, but these dolts -"

"We booked it for a Chaser practice!" Matthew Eck, of Severus' own Slytherin House, broke in. "You wrote the note yesterday, Professor! But when we got down there, these stupid Mudbloods were -"

"Don't you dare call me that!" the one Gryffindor girl present, Melissa Palermo, shrieked. She lunged for Eck, but Weasley and his sidekick, Phillip McNally, caught hold of her.

"Language, Eck. And you'll note that Weasley is a pureblood?" Severus didn't wait for the glares from the Gryffindors — they came daily, whether he bothered to support their side of an argument or not. It wasn't worth his time to be kind to them anymore. A single year had proven that. "Now, take your seats. The seventh-years need a simple sleeping draught made for their class tomorrow — they're learning combination potions. You should remember this from your second year classes with Professor Flamel. There are seven of you, so... each of you need to make three batches before you leave this evening. No talking."

Ignoring the moans at his command — simple sleeping draughts took up to an hour or more to make — Severus turned and swept up to the front of the classroom, depositing Harry on the teacher's desk. "Now, I've a stack of papers to grade. Do you... er... what do you want to do?"

Harry frowned. "I want Mum Pomfrey. She isn't mean to me."

"Madame Pomfrey is busy." Severus sighed, sitting on the edge of the desk beside his charge. "I'm sorry, but you're stuck with me until the emergency is over. Now — do you want a picture book? Or a card game?"

The little boy wrinkled his nose. "I can't read. I don't know how to play cards."

Of course he couldn't read. He was only four. Severus picked Harry up again and rounded the desk before setting him back on the edge. "Well, you could draw. Do you like to draw?" Harry's frantic nodding was enough to push Severus into action. Almost desperate to destract the child, Severus transfigured a few crayons from his broken quills and presented Harry with a spare sheet of parchment. "There... you can sit at a desk up here... you could draw Madame Pomfrey."

Severus reached to pick Harry up, but the boy shook his head. "No."

"Erm... no what?" Severus froze again. This was proving to be much, much harder than he'd expected. Over Harry's shoulder, he caught sight of Lestrange and Eck laughing at him. "Get back to work, over there," Severus snapped, before turning his gaze back to Harry. He pulled a stack of second-year essays from the top drawer of the desk and set it beside Harry's piece of parchment, setting up the space for writing. Only Harry's bum was in the way. "You don't want to draw Madame Pomfrey?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't wanna sit in the desk."

At that, Severus drew a blank. "Well... where do you want to sit?" Not entirely of his own accord, the Potions Master sunk into his own desk chair — soft black leather, worn in just the right places.

Smiling coyly, Harry climbed off the desk and onto Severus' lap. He grabbed the crayons and started scribbling away happily before Severus could do so much as protest. There wasn't much to be done, however. At least Harry was silent... Severus sighed softly and did his best to blot his quill pen and mark all over the first essay (Brandon Hunter, a Ravenclaw) the best he could with only one hand.

It wasn't so terrible, especially when Harry presented him with a scribble that was meant to be Severus himself, and promptly fell asleep curled up on Severus' lap. Something would have to be done about the students, however — the rumor would protect Harry, but leave Severus open for more rumors than he needed. The year was still young.

+

Minerva peeked over Albus' shoulder into the Potions dungeon. Just as Charlie had reported, Severus was slumped in his favourite leather chair — salvaged from the ruins of the Snape Manorhouse — with the small figure of Harry Potter curled up happily on his lap. It was quite touching: the boy resembled the man enough, with their similarly dark hair and lanky frames, that any student passing by would believe them to be father and son. And at least seven students had. She'd nearly laughed aloud when the three Gryffindor fourth-years came pelting into the office, demanding to know how long Snape's child had been romping around the castle.

Albus had been even more amused by it, apparently, as his response to the three was a quirky smile and a smug, "Oh, Harry's not been here long." Severus would be raging when he heard the news. Now all the Gryffindors thought Snape was a father.

It was time for the potion, however, which was the reason Minerva had seen fit to venture into the dungeons. She avoided them as much as possible — the damp sent an ache into her bones — but this was occasion for it. It was time to find Harry a home.

"Severus, wake up," Albus murmured, struggling to kneel by the young man's side. Albus patted his hand in the same manner he'd used with Henry Potter when Minerva had been a schoolgirl, and with James Potter after the death of all he'd held dear. To Minerva's surprise, it looked as though Albus had picked up yet another stray child. Why he'd chosen a character as sinister as Severus could be debated... but on second thought, Severus' life had been bleaker than Henry's ever would've been. Albus could yet redeem the young man. Minerva finally saw the reason for the deep regard Albus held Severus in — it seemed Albus had obtained yet another son.

And maybe this one, he wouldn't destroy utterly.

It wasn't the time for dark thoughts, however. Severus woke, yawning and glaring around the room. "What happened to the students? Their detention isn't done until -"

"Charlie Weasley found me and informed me that you'd passed out at your desk, grading papers, with your son on your lap. Is that what you told them?" Minerva couldn't help her smile. Severus looked much more uncomfortable than usual, as he shifted in his chair. Harry murmured nonsense in his sleep and wound his fingers around Severus' collar, insuring the man wouldn't leave.

Severus blushed brightly, turning his face from Albus mainly, and Minerva secondly. In that gesture, Minerva saw echoes of the young boy who skulked shyly in the shadows, afraid of being the center of attention. "I fell asleep during the detention? Professor Dumbledore, I -"

"Albus, dear boy. For the last time — Albus." The old man murmured. "I'll not accept that kind of formality from you. Now... there's nothing to be ashamed of. I assume you lost a great deal of sleep last night with thoughts of loss? The boy brings such thoughts in even the wisest of us." Albus smiled briefly. "It's time to use that potion of yours, Severus. Harry needs a family, and now."

"It's on the first table over there, in the ink pot," Severus replied. He very obviously wasn't moving, due to the child holding him firmly in place. "All it needs is the final ingredient. A drop of Harry's blood, to personalise and make it work. However, I don't really fancy cutting the child..."

Minerva frowned. "He'll need to be awake to give permission. So wake him up."

Despite her brusque command, Severus did so. He rocked Harry lightly, whispering his name in such a tender manner that Minerva was unsure of the Potions Master's identity. Severus Snape played many roles, but never that of caring. Finally, Harry's eyes flickered open and he frowned up at Severus. "Wannasleep," the little boy grumbled, tightening his hold on Severus' collar.

A rare smile flickered across Severus' haggard features. "You can go back to sleep in a moment... I need your help for some magic, though."

With that, Harry perked up immediately. "I get to do magic?" he grinned, peering up at Snape from beneath fringes of black hair, mussed with sleep. "Do I get a wand?"

"No, not yet," Albus broke in. Harry finally seemed to notice him, and his eyes widened. Most people found Albus' presence infinitely calming, but Harry didn't seem to — just as in the hospital wing, he cringed back and buried his face in Severus' shoulder. Albus gave a barely audible sigh and drew back before continuing. "We are trying to find a new family for you. Relatives for you to live with."

Harry shook visibly and clung to Severus so tightly that the dark man was winded. He mumbled something so low that Minerva missed it entirely — Albus seemed to as well, as he sent a questioning glance up at Severus. "He doesn't want to return to his aunt and uncle," Severus translated. Though slightly delayed, Severus' response to Harry's hug came anyways — after speaking, he wrapped the boy in his arms and rocked him slowly. "You won't go back to them, Harry," he whispered. "I won't let anyone send you back to them."

"Different relatives," Albus broke in, trying to recover the situation. "Magical ones. But we have to do a spell first, to find them, and we need your help to do it."

He peeked out of the (now sodden) folds of Severus' robe. "What do I do?"

"We need a drop of your blood," Albus explained patiently. "The blood is the final component of the spell. It helps to triangulate the position of those matching your genetic code."

"What?" Harry whispered, staring blankly. Minerva couldn't help but chuckle as Severus bent his mouth beside Harry's ear and whispered, "We need the blood to find people. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Albus looked abashed. It was easy to view the boy as being much older than five. The seriousness of his manner placed him closer to a young ten or eleven — nearly ready for Hogwarts, and grown up far too young. He certainly didn't look more than four — but his eyes, naïve and old at the same time — broke Minerva's heart every time he looked in her direction. Harry pursed his lips, an admittedly amusing expression on a five-year-old's face, and looked up at Severus, then nodded solemnly and stretched out a delicate hand. The other remained wrapped around Severus' collar.

"I'll just prick your finger tip and catch the drop of blood in this little vial, right?" Albus explained, tugging over a desk chair and lifting the ink vial full of the potion from the desk. He pulled a small dagger from his pocket — Minerva wondered, for a moment, if he always carried it around — and sliced across the child's finger before he could change his mind.

There was just enough time to catch the first drop of blood before Harry let out a howl and pulled his finger away, sticking it into his mouth. "Stir twice, anti-clockwise," Severus commanded. "Minerva, there's a little first-aid kit on the shelf in the back. Harry needs a plaster for that."

Distressed by the little boy's screams — Minerva hadn't borne a child and was less than familiar with the temperments of children younger than eleven — she made a dash for the shelf before the wails could bring any concerned students near. When she turned back, however, the scene wrenched her heart yet again. Albus was off to the side, watching the potion. Severus was rocking the boy in his lap, his robes wrapped around the injured finger, other arm holding him close, and cheek resting on a mop of messy black hair. What was it about Harry that elicited such a tender response from the least parental of men? "The plaster," she offered quietly. She wondered about that, too — it was a completely Muggle artefact in the room of a supposedly Muggle-hating man.

Severus took it, however, and wrapped it around Harry's finger. The cut, which appeared to have already been healed by Severus while her back was turned, nonetheless needed a plaster to comfort a little Muggle-raised boy. A band-aid made everything better.

And so it did. Harry's wails trailed off into whimpers and he stuck his face back into the shoulder of Severus' robes. For once, he didn't seem to mind the wetness and snot inevitable from such a position, and (if it was even possible) held the child tighter. "It's done, Harry," he whispered. "I promise... all done..."

"Now what do I do with it?" Albus asked, breaking in to the tender moment.

Harry cringed at the voice. "Find one of my quills," Severus answered. "Dip the pen in the potion and then let it fall on a blank sheet of paper. The current locations of all Harry's close relatives — magical, I assure you — will arrange themselves on the paper. The first location will be here — Harry's location — followed by the next closest relative." Severus finished explaining and adjusted Harry in his grip, lifting the boy into his arms in order to stand from the chair. "Legs are asleep," he explained, beginning to pace around the room. Harry peeked over his shoulder and glared at Dumbledore, ducking down again when Severus paced back in the older man's direction.

Albus sighed deeply and fumbled for a quill, following Severus' directions to the letter. Minerva stood at his shoulder, but as the ink slowly bled across the paper, she looked up to watch Harry. Severus rocked him still, and seemed to be almost... singing? She took a closer glance — and, indeed, Severus Snape, former Death Eater, was humming a barely audible lullaby.

Albus had been right. Harry was just what Severus needed.

The Headmaster cleared his throat, grabbing Minerva's attention, and she glanced down at the parchment on the table. The first entry, Harry's own, was specific enough: "Potions Dungeon, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Scotland, UK, Europe." However, the second was identical. Minerva frowned — Harry's closest relative was standing in the room with them? Well, it could be Minerva herself, seeing as her brother Theseus would've been next of kin before Theseus' death in '82... if that was so, then the next address on the list should be the home of Minerva's mother, on the Isle of Skye.

"Parlor, Thermopolis home, Athens, Greece, Europe," Minerva muttered. "I don't know anyone in Greece..."

Severus looked up, distracted. "What about Greece? My great-uncle lives in Greece."

"Severus' mother's brother is called Ricaldo Thermopolis... he's a professor of Charm Theory at Athens' Herodotos University," Albus murmured. "Severus, you're Harry's closest living relative."

He stopped short, jaw dropped in shock. "I'm... Headmaster, that's impossible. I'm related, but certainly not that closely -"

"There could've been a scandal in James' family at some point along the line," Minerva put in. "It's certainly happened before, and families with Dark connections generally aren't known for their matrimonial faithfulness."

"Shh, Harry's dozed off," Severus muttered, keeping the child cradled close to him. "Minerva, there's a bottle of nightshade and a basket of dried thistles on the shelf right next to you — make sure to get the Scottish thistles — if you'll add just a pinch of the ground nightshade and four thistles, that same potion will give the relation of Harry to me — it seemed that getting the addresses was the best choice, since the potion won't give a name -"

"Be calm, Severus," Albus murmured. Minerva grabbed the ingredients and followed Snape's instructions, taking the Headmaster's seat as he crossed to the sleeping boy and the distressed teacher. "We know you're the closest relative, now... will you take care of Harry? He needs you."

Severus shook his head wildly. "He doesn't need me, he needs a responsible parent -"

Minerva cleared her throat hesitantly. "You know, Severus, Harry was conceived in October of 1979 -"

"NO," he hissed, cradling Harry's head to his chest to muffle the noise a little. "She wouldn't have kept something like that -"

"I don't understand," Albus murmured.

"It's not something I want divulged -" Snape whispered.

"I'm sorry, Severus, but it's important! Albus needs to know. And the truth will come out the moment the ink hits the parchment, anyways..." Minerva sighed and dipped the pen into the swirling purple potion.

Severus crossed to the desk, leaving Albus staring from behind, and dropped back into his leather chair. Harry whimpered and snuggled more deeply into the young man's grip. "I won't tell unless I have to. She swore me to secrecy, and I keep my word — keep yours."

There was a long pause before Minerva sighed and nodded. Albus was at Severus' shoulder, face full of curiosity, as the pen hovered over a new parchment. The drop fell.

"Father," Albus read off, as Minerva stared in horror. Severus' face was impassive, but his hands gave him away. Usually precise and steady, they shook as Severus lifted one to push his hair from his face. "Severus... why didn't you tell me?" Albus whispered.

"Why would I tell you about Lily's infidelity?" Severus hissed. "She didn't tell me she was pregnant! I never thought — everyone said that Harry looked just like James, so I assumed -" He broke off and stared down at the little boy dozing silently in his arms. "He's my son..."

Albus' face was white — Minerva wasn't sure whether it was anger or fear. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.

Minerva stood and grabbed Albus' shoulder. Severus didn't seem to be paying attention to either of them, a shocked expression frozen on his face. "Let's leave them," she whispered. Before Albus could protest, she took hold of his arm and dragged him toward the door. They were left, father and son.