Disclaimer: I repeat- I don't own HP!

Warning: Slash themes, mentions of Mpreg (I wanted to keep you hanging, I didn't want to be too revealing. You notice how I only mentioned Sev's mate's name at the end, right? grin) and mentions of neglect and overwork.

Harry awoke, his skin protesting in pain from his sunburn with every shift in the bedclothes. His eyes were crusty, and bruised from both lack of sleep and from the regular beating from Dudley and his gang. Without that protection from Sirius, he was vulnerable.

As he stood, he swayed. He hadn't eaten at all yesterday. Too late, too late, too late. Those were the words ringing in his ears.

As he passed by the hall mirror, he looked at those eyes, the eyes that everyone noticed, the eyes that everyone saw before the scar on his forehead. 'His mother's eyes' they'd said, again and again. Who would have realized besides himself that their color was not unlike that of the Avada Kedavra, of the Killing curse. Of Death.

With those morbid thoughts still settled heavily on his mind, he entered the kitchen. His Aunt Petunia was intent on the stove, adjusting every knob to the right temperature. "Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and oatmeal today." She never said anything besides that, every morning as he crept downstairs to make the breakfast.

His imaginary friend woke up, as late as usual, and mentioned his father beating him last night for 'Disobedience'. Again. He had heard this voice since he was a young child, dubbed "Dragon", but had only recently heard it again, only recently needed it. He smiled wryly in his mind, and gave his 'friend' his own update- as usual, he had been ignored and uncared for.

The thumping of Dudley's footsteps on the stairs signaled Harry to snap out of his trance and into real life. The bacon was done, as were the eggs; he had already finished making the oatmeal, and the pancakes were almost done. Carefully, he heaped two plates full of food, and then gave daintier portions to Petunia. He had nothing for himself yet, not unless they gave it to him.

They ignored him throughout the meal, and gave him a single slice of bread and 8-ounce glass of milk for his first (and possibly only) meal of the day.

And then came the chores. Trim the bushes, and the roses, mow the lawn, pull the weeds, plant the tulips. Wash the windows, inside and out, upstairs and down. Mop the floors, vacuum the carpet, dust the computer, clean the guest bedroom for Marge, and the list went on and on.

The sun was gone from the sky as he finished his chores. Dragon gave sympathy- the 'training' had happened again, and it was always painful. His own nickname, Phoenix, echoed in his heart, and he smiled at how fitting it was at first glance- and at all thereafter.

3 3 3 3

"Severus, I have some… News."

Raised eyebrow, set chin, emotionless eyes. "Yes?"

Dark blue twinkles, twinkles of deviousness. "It has come to my attention that Harry Potter does not receive the proper care while at the Dursleys'."

A hitch in breath, but quickly smoothed over. Schooled expression, but would be joyful if allowed. "And this affects me how, exactly?"

Mask of senility. "It appears that Harry Potter is, indeed, your son in blood."

Triumph. "I knew it! You knew all along, didn't you Albus! You just didn't bloody care!"

Fear. "Ah, well, that is-"

"You kept it from me, and from my son! You prevented him from receiving the proper loving care just so that YOU would have a pawn!"

Shifting, nervousness. "Well, there was never any mention of your and Lily's relationship in the proper time periods…"

Stop- turn, face incompetent fool, glare. "I cannot believe that the Headmaster of Hogwarts could be so stupid and incompetent!"

Puzzlement. "What? What on earth do you mean?"

Cold stare. "I never even knew Lily, let alone engaged in sexual activity."

Still puzzled. "But James was a man, he couldn't have been pregnant! Unless…"

Smirk. "Yes- unless I was his one and only soul mate."

"But Harry's eyes…"

Jerk back as if slapped. "Yes, Lily's eyes. I… Until now I thought that yes, James did indeed cheat on me with her at the time of Harry's conception, but if he has my genes…"

"Then either it is a recessive gene, or Dark Curses may have more effects than previously know and documented."

"Especially when reacting with protections!"

"But there were no traces…"

"Who did you ask to trace his blood?"

"Malfoy…"

"MALFOY???? You had ME at your disposal, and you used that Death Eater???"

"I realize that it wasn't the best of choices made, Severus, but…"

"When do I fetch my son?"

"What- oh, as soon as you deem necessary. And don't damage the Muggles too horribly."

"Very well. I will wait until his birthday."

"What a present…"

3 3 3 3

If any of Harry's friends had come by to see him, they would not have recognized him. His hair, normally a midnight-red, was now the deepest of inky blue-blacks. His irises were ringed with a thick band of black, and his skin was blistered from the sun- he had never been this sensitive before. His glasses were too smashed to rest on his nose, so he did his chores blindly.

His ribs jutted out from his stomach, and his arms, though bathed in wiry muscle, were skinny and weak-looking. His cheekbones were sharp, and his fingers long.

He had changed.

Not that anyone had noticed. They had seen the gradual changes, and didn't care about the lack of meat on his bones. They didn't notice that his hair was so laden with dirt from outside that it had begin to flatten itself, or that his eyes were deep-sunk into his sockets.

And they didn't notice the scars on his arms, the scars he made every night, the scars he made in memory of Sirius.

But Severus Snape, who hadn't shown notice or care on his face for years, had. He noticed every change- 'the loss of Lily and the incorporation of himself', he mused. 'Charm-work, very likely an illusion/blood-binding spell with a time-lock so that it wouldn't show for years upon years.'

Like it was showing now.

He was early, a day before his son's sixteenth birthday, because he had known that it would be necessary to see his child, to prepare himself.

He just hadn't realized how bad it would be.

The Potions Master forced himself to stay. 'Not until midnight', he commanded himself. 'Not until he gets his birthday presents from his friends.'

And with that, he waited.

As he stood, hidden in plain sight, he constructed plans to destroy the lives of the family his son had been forced to deal with. He noticed the boy that was big enough to be broken apart into seven different beings, and would still be far bigger than the average boy his age. He saw the rotund businessman, who blamed everything on everyone but himself. He saw the horse-woman who saw her nephew as slave labor.

And then came the worst of all.

Marge Dursley, a large woman who bred dogs. Yes, the world was good.

So much revenge to dish out.

3 3 3 3

Dizzily, Harry scraped an arm against the sweat pouring off of his face and neck. A blistering day, and he had yet to relax. The world swam lightly around him- heatstroke, he remembered. The fatigue from too little sleep because of Voldemort's nightly activities didn't help any, either.

His long and bony fingers pressed against his temples to ward of the headache he knew was coming. Eyes blurring even further, he decided to risk his uncle's wrath now rather than the wrath he would receive if he had to be shuttled off to a hospital. He sat in the shade of the house. 'I'll close my eyes for… Just a mo… Just a moment..." And then sleep took him in her arms and carried the boy's mind off to dreamland.

He awoke to the sound of a car in the driveway. "Uncle Vernon's back…" he murmured to himself. Shakily, he rose to his feet and began his chores again. He felt Dragon in the back of his mind, and acknowledged him as the 'boy' anxiously reassured himself as to the life in his only true friend. Days of pain threatened to spill over the carefully erected internal barrier, and send him careening into unconsciousness, but Harry beat it back with everything he could spare. 'Just a few hours more, and then I will be sixteen. I will have people check in, I will have a boost… Just a few more hours…' This became his mantra. As Aunt Marge exited the car, he flinched, but he continued to reassure himself. Dragon helped as well. His cool voice seemed to wash away the heat of summer, and his sarcastic remarks helped Harry to smile inside, while on the outside, his face was set and grim.

A hidden weight pressed against the hollow of his throat, and there Harry touched, overwhelmed by the love he felt emanating from this single piece of jewelry. The necklace had been bound around his neck for as long as he could remember, though nobody had ever seen or felt it before but him. As he ran his fingertips over it, he felt a tiny three-dimensional heart- almost like a potion bottle- attached to a string of twine. He gripped this gift, this symbol of love that had been with him forever, and knew that the love of whoever created this would be with him for a lifetime.

3 3 3 3

The rustle of leaves. "Hello Severus."

"Minerva."

"So he finally told you."

"What?"

Sad smile. "He knew from the very beginning. He is the one who hid Harry's true birth."

"But you knew?…"

"Yes… But, Severus, he is my uncle. I could never hurt him by betraying his trust in me."

"I understand."

"It's true, though. Something saved your child that night, Severus. Not your Pyro-Amour."

"But then where is it?"

Another smile, but more happy. "Phoenixes are extremely interesting creatures- not to mention secretive. They have their own magic. Harry is, in their minds, one of their own. They protect him."

"But… They are not the ones who saved him that night."

Secret on the wind. "Of course not."

A cat walks away.