A/N: Oh gawd it's taken me forever to put up another chapter. I actually had this done a while ago, but I never had a moment to type it up. Sorry!! I promise to update more frequently, now that the holidays && everything else is over now. This chapter's a bit longer than the others though, so maybe that'll be some consolation haha. Thanks for the reviews!! Errr, I could also use a beta lol.

"We Both Reached for the Gun" Pt 1

It was an awkward and uncomfortable five minutes that Harry spent outside Snape's door, reluctant to enter. When he left the Great Hall, he hadn't considered the fact that he'd be too early for detention. How would he explain it? "Father! Oh how I've missed you in the many hours we've been parted since this morning! Alas, it was with such sweet sorrow in my heart that I've awaited our fateful rendezvous, and I could not help but to come early, so eager was I to see your dear face again!"?

Besides the fact that Harry didn't think he could ever say those words while keeping a straight face, he found it difficult to imagine the reserved Potions Master receiving them well. The man would probably send him straight to the Infirmary; well, straight after docking about a hundred points from Gryffindor. The teen also noticed his internal monologue, despite beginning with "Father", sounded more like a lover's speech. What in the name of Merlin's soggy underpants was happening to him?

"Stop hovering outside uselessly and get in here, Potter!"

Snape's voice broke through Harry's thoughts; he jumped, caught completely off guard. How did he know I was here? Harry asked himself incredulously. Still slightly in shock, he pulled open the office door and stepped inside.

Severus Snape was sitting behind his desk, fingers casually resting on top of it, eyes trained on Harry's progress into the room. As far as the messy-haired Gryffindor could tell, Snape hadn't been doing anything before he came in; indeed, the oak desk lacked any accessories apart from an ink bottle and feathered quill, and a blank sheet of parchment. Is he going to make me write lines? wondered Harry. If so, it was definitely a sign the man was losing his touch; usually his punishments were much more grueling than that.

"Sit down!" Snape snarled at him, so without pausing to think, Harry immediately dropped down on the floor and crossed his legs. The head of Slytherin let out a derisive laugh. From his angle on the floor Harry couldn't see Snape beyond the desk, but he didn't need to in order to know the man was smirking at him. Well, he thought, so much for a "nice" Snape.

"Although I'm grateful to find you aren't completely incapable of doing what you're told, I meant in the chair, Potter."

As soon as Harry relocated himself in the seat across from Snape, he spoke again.

"The Headmaster has informed me of his decision to impart certain facts to you. I assume that, judging by your behavior earlier, he has done this?"

For the first time, Harry detected a sort of tension in Snape; his shoulders were drawn back and his hands now clenched the sides of his desk. Harry suddenly wondered what he had thought when he found out the Gryffindor was his son. And what was he thinking now? Was he worried about Harry's reaction? Did Snape even know how to worry? He wasn't sure. Remembering the man's question, Harry nodded yes.

"And what is your opinion now?"

The raven-haired boy nearly fell out of his chair. Snape, the biggest git he knew, was asking what he, Harry James Potter, bane of his existence, thought?? Maybe Snape was the one who needed to go to the Infirmary, clearly something was wrong with his head.

"Stop sitting there gaping at me and answer the question!" snapped the Potions Master.

Oh. That was better. It occurred to Harry that he wasn't being punished the way he had assumed he would. Well, that was fine with him; he'd rather sit and talk than scrub cauldrons or disembowel toads any day, but still... something was off. It seemed like Snape was caring a great deal more about this matter than Harry had expected him to.

"Er... well, yeah, you know..." he rambled, unsure of how to answer.

"Your profusion of eloquence overwhelms me, Potter."

The teen promptly blushed scarlet, glaring over at Snape, who merely smirked again. He stayed quiet for a second, trying to organize his thoughts. How did he feel about Snape being his father?

"I was really surprised at first," Harry said slowly, "It's a lot to take in you know?" He paused, and then continued. "I'm still not entirely sure how it came to be, but I don't think it changes very much in the large scheme of things."

This was true, in Harry's opinion. He was sixteen years old, less than a year away from being a legal adult, at which time he could leave the Dursleys' house forever. There really wasn't much need for a new parental figure in his life (he did have Remus after all), except for advice, and the prospect of asking Snape for help with his love life, or anything else for that matter, was about as appealing as kissing a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Assuming one ever found where the head was on one that is.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't think so?"

Harry wondered if he was missing something. Concentrating, he imagined what he would do if someone he really liked turned out to be his father. Someone like... someone like... like Sirius, before he'd died. Wait...

"Am I going to be moving in with you?"

It was a toss up, Harry thought, to decide who he'd least like to stay with—Snape, or the Dursleys. Although this current Snape wasn't so bad; the man's temper was nowhere to be seen, his attitude almost pleasant. But how long would it last? The Gryffindor definitely didn't want to be around when his decency wore thin, especially when he didn't know why it had survived this long.

Both of Snape's eyebrows went up this time, Harry knew the question had surprised him.

"That is, Mr. Potter, entirely up to you. I'm not going to force you to do anything, but the option is available."

Harry bit his lip. Snape's phrasing seemed awfully... particular. As if he wasn't going to come right out and say he wanted Harry to live with him, but the inclination was certainly there. But why? To give him more opportunities to torture him? Harry doubted that was it. When it came down to it, the Snape he knew would prefer Harry be completely erased from existence. But that was what it all boiled down to. The man in front of him was not the Snape he knew. This Snape was nicer, in an odd sort of way. He still snarled and snapped, and insulted Harry, but the strong conviction behind his words was lacking. It was almost like the man was teasing him. The idea slightly terrified him.

"I don't want to get in your way..." It was a pathetic excuse and he knew it. But the Gryffindor had reservations concerning living with Snape, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

"As it were, Snape Manor is quite extensive; you and I could possibly go a month without facing each other if we so desired."

Oh, that made all the difference in the world! He could live there for the month of July, until his seventeenth birthday rolled around, then leave and never look back. He would never have to return to Privet Drive again. And the best part? He wouldn't ever have to see Snape again either. Harry opened his mouth to accept, and then paused. Would he come off as rude if he agreed so readily only after being told he wouldn't have to see Snape? Hmm. Oh well.

"I wouldn't mind—"

"I would not be adverse—"

Both Harry and Snape started to speak at the same time. Then silence spread through the room.

"Uh..." Harry said.

"Have you made your decision already?"

Already? So he didn't have to decide right now, but Harry figured it would be better to go ahead and publisize his answer, in case Snape became angry with him for taking too long.

"Yeah, I have. I guess it wouldn't be so bad to move in with you."

Strange though it seemed, the Gryffindor was positive that all the tension there had previously been in Snape exited his body when Harry said that. Curious.

"Then it would be safe to assume we shall not require the services of this parchment?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, confused. For a few wild moments he entertained the idea that Snape had planned to punish him if he refused, until the man explained the parchment was actually a contract. A contract stating that hte two parties involved (he decided that meant him and Snape) no longer wished to have any sort of connection between themselves, and would be going their seperate ways, in all basicness.

"So you mean if I sign this, I'll never have to see you again?" Harry blurted out before he could censor himself.

Something that looked astoundingly like pain flashed across Snape's face as he nodded silently. Bugger.