A/N: Hello lovelies! Sorry it has been so long, and double apologies for it being so short. It needed to end there, you know? Well obviously you don't know, but you will, by the end of the chapter... Anyway, I can tell you now that I am already writing on chapter 10 and should have it up in no more than a week. Yep. Actually, I promise that. So I give you permission to hex me if there is nothing new in exactly one week from now.

Also, I would just like to tell all of you wonderful people that I have a new story. Yes... Don't kill me, please. If you're interested in Sirius-adopts-Harry stories, then check it out. If you do, I hope I haven't disappointed anyone with it so far ((:

Enjoy, and pleeeeeeease review!

Ivy

Harry stared up at the large door that would lead him into the Headmaster's office. He had only been in the room once before, on his very first day at Hogwarts, and found that he was quite intimidated by its vast form. Dumbledore himself seemed like a nice man, even though Snape didn't seem too keen on him. Harry glanced back and saw the man in question roll his eyes.

"Come on, Potter, I haven't got all day," he said impatiently, reaching over Harry's head to knock on the door. It instantly swung open, and they saw the Headmaster sitting behind his desk, smiling brightly as they entered.

"Ah, Harry, Severus. How are you this splendid morning?"

"Fine, sir," Harry answered happily, quite eager now. He wanted Snape to leave so that he could stop having to be so polite. Well, he'd have to be polite anyway, lest Snape wear him out, but at least it wouldn't be as constricting.

"I have a class I must get to," Snape said, avoiding the question. "You behave yourself," he said, pointing down at Harry. "Good day," he nodded, and with one last warning glance at his ward he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

"Well, Harry. I must say, I have long been looking forward to the day when I would be able to spend some time with you," Dumbledore said cheerfully, leaving the seat behind his desk and gesturing for Harry to sit down by the fireplace. "How are you finding Hogwarts so far then, dear boy?" he enquired, handing the boy a lemon drop which Harry gladly popped into his mouth.

"'Tis brilliant," he said around the sweet, smiling shyly at the Headmaster. "I love everything 'bout 't," he added, having some trouble speaking properly with the treat in his mouth. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Yes, it is rather… enchanting, is it not," he said, his eyes twinkling at his ironic choice of words. "Well, there are a number of things with which we could entertain ourselves today. What would you prefer?" Harry stared at the old man. He got to choose what to do? Surely not. Things had been a hundred times better with Snape than with the Dursleys, but the man had a schedule for him. Harry didn't mind, but this was completely out of the ordinary.

"Sir?" he asked timidly, not sure what else to do.

"What would you like to do?" Dumbledore repeated kindly. "There a variety of games with which we could occupy ourselves. Chess, Exploding Snap, Gobbstones to name a few of the more popular games here at Hogwarts." Harry stared in bewilderment at the older man who was casually listing all manners of fun they could have. Was he allowed? Wouldn't Snape be angry?

"How do you play Exploding Snap?" he asked shyly. Dumbledore clapped his hands together and began rummaging about for a pack of cards.

"Excellent choice! It is quite simple, my dear boy. We will play the classic version." He brought the cards out triumphantly. "Now, the object of the game is to find pairs…"

"Unless you would like spending your remaining three years at this school in detention, Mr Williams, I suggest you refrain from brandishing your wand and casting spells you know nothing of," Snape said icily to the fidgeting Gryffindor in front of him. "Dismissed." The student quickly gathered his things and ran out of the classroom, catching up with his friends. Snape snorted irritably and straightened his robes jerkily. Detestable, impudent, childish lions, he thought grimly, gathering the essays he would need to mark in his arms before sweeping out of the dungeon classroom, the door banging shut after him. The boy in question had been performing spells at random while the other students had been cleaning up after themselves. Snape, not being a fan of spell casting in his classroom, had immediately swept over to the boy, who instantly ceased his playing to stare up with frightened eyes at his irate professor.

Now that the day's classes were all finished, he found the time to feel slightly worried about what Potter might've done to the Headmaster during the day. He'd seen them during lunch; Harry had been sitting at the old wizard's side, laughing merrily at some story the Headmaster was telling. He'd been rather uncertain about leaving the boy with Dumbledore, not knowing what ideas he might feed into the small head.

Entering his quarters and laying all his things neatly on the desk, he hastily swept out of the room again and strode decisively towards the Headmaster's office. Several students scampered out of his way, and he was pleased to notice that even the sixths years averted their gazes and sped up the tiniest bit at the sight of him. Everything was well in that aspect.

Upon reaching the gargoyle guarding the entrance, Snape stopped dead in his tracks. The doorway was just sealing itself and Potter was wandering, seemingly aimlessly, down the left corridor.

"Just where do you think you are going?" Harry spun around in astonishment, and blushed slightly at seeing his dour guardian. He stared at Snape's midsection and began wringing his hands.

"Nowhere," he replied quietly. "I was just going to… Find you."

"Why are you not with the Headmaster?" Snape enquired further, narrowing his eyes as he approached the fidgeting child.

"He said I could go," Harry replied honestly, his green eyes wide with apprehension as he was forced to tilt his head backwards to meet Severus' eyes.

"Did he now? What were his exact words, young man?" Fidgeting. "Answer me."

"That I should go down and wait because you were almost here," he replied in a mumble, his cheeks colouring anew.

"Indeed," Snape said placidly.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, scratching behind his ear. Snape sighed and shook his head.

"Come along." Harry was slightly surprised not to hear more about it, but didn't have time to ponder it, as he had to hurry up to keep up with Snape's long strides. There were still students out and about, but most of them were used to Harry's presence by now. The Slytherins nodded to their Head of House, or greeted him with a quiet "Good evening, sir", while all other students averted their eyes and walked along the walls to avoid the stern Potions Master. Severus didn't mind: in fact, it was all just how he liked it.

"Professor?" Harry piped up after a while.

"Potter," Snape replied, not turning as they started down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Are you really going to adopt me?" Snape halted. Not much in the world would render him completely lost for words, but this was one such rare occasion. He turned slowly and pinned the boy with his dark eyes. Harry stared up at him, the innocence in his young eyes speering Snape.

"What would possess you to ask such a question?" he asked, attempting to sound indifferent. Harry shrugged. "Verbal answers, young man, you know this," Snape growled, glad for something normal to admonish the child for.

"Sorry, sir," the child murmured. "I don't know. I just… wondered." Nostrils flaring, Severus regarded the boy for a moment longer before continuing the last way to his quarters and ushering Harry inside.

"Sit," he said, nodding towards the couch. Harry curled up in his normal corner, watching his guardian closely as he flitted about the room, lighting candles and summoning tea. Once Severus had shrugged off his robes, clad in black dress trousers and a black shirt, he sat down in his armchair and regarded the boy closely.

"Potter… Harry…" The bot snapped his head up at the mentioning of his given name, gawking at the professor. "How are you?" Still staring disbelievingly at Snape, Harry began nibbling the corner of his lip.

"All right…" he answered, all of a sudden feeling very mellow.

"I sincerely hope you are not lying to me," the Potions Master said placidly as a house elf appeared and poured them a cup each of the steaming liquid.

"No, sir, I'm not," Harry replied honestly. Snape snorted.

"Very well. Now tell me why you are asking such questions."

"I told you, I was just wondering…"

"I don't care for your tone," Severus interjected, narrowing his eyes to stern slits. Harry fidgeted, as he seemed to be doing a lot, and stared at the flames roaring in the hearth.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But, professor, are you…?" Snape didn't know what Dumbledore had said to the boy, and it had been a while since he had brought it up with the boy himself.

"Potter, you must understand that this is a tricky situation. You have no conception of the uproar it will cause if I formally adopt you."

"Uproar?"

"You will most likely never fully grasp what the people of Britain think of you," Snape said in a quiet voice, almost as though he was speaking to himself.

"Sir?"

"Never mind," the man said gruffly, sipping his tea. "The point is… The point is that there are uncertainties-"

"Nothing's going to change, is it?" Harry asked breathlessly, forgetting his manners. "I'll be sent back…"

"Potter…"

"You're all the same," Harry cried, his eyes filling with tears, to his complete mortification. "All grown-ups…"

"Potter!"

"No! Don't send me back, please!"

"Harry!" Tears running down his cheeks, Harry realised he was standing up. His bottom lip wobbled, and he felt frightfully embarrassed over having acted like the child he truly was. "Calm yourself this instant. I will not have you fall ill due to a childish tantrum, do you understand me?" Harry nodded, and for once, Snape let it be. "No one is sending you back to your relatives. Now sit back down." The force of the command had Harry sitting in a split second, almost upsetting his teacup. Snape steadied it with two fingers as Harry averted his eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered again, swiping his hand at his nose and as discreetly as possible wiped the traces of tears off his face.

"If you will let me finish this time, then maybe we can get through this discussion without any further outbursts, hmm?" Harry merely blushed. "Very well. Despite these problems… Yes, Po-… Harry. Unless you have any objections, I will adopt you." Harry lifted his head slowly and allowed himself to look at Snape. The man met his gaze firmly, the tea forgotten.

"Promise?" Harry squeaked. A moment's silence followed, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

"You have my word."

Snape massaged his temples slowly, closing his eyes and letting the heat of the fire wash over him, the remaining burn of the Firewhiskey singeing his throat. It was just before ten, and Harry had been in bed for over an hour, leaving Severus alone with his whiskey and the fire. He very rarely drank the burning stuff, but felt like he desperately needed it now. Potter had been in an odd mood all evening, making Severus snap after a while and sending the boy to bed with stern voice. The child hadn't even complained, just nodded mutely and stalked off to the bathroom. As much as Severus despised the boy's otherwise constant chattering, his silence was unnerving, more so than he would care to admit.

Potter's sudden outburst about the adoption had surprised him, truly, and he was irritated with having to talk to the boy about it. He'd wanted to keep it as quiet as possible, and really only ever brought it up with the Headmaster. The impending trial of Black was another complication, and Severus was still baffled, not to mention bewildered, by the fact that Albus was actually going to allow him, Snape, to adopt the child, and not wait for the beloved godfather. What could possibly have induced the man to make such a decision? Surely one of the wonderful Marauders would be the ideal option as guardian for the Boy Who Lived To Constantly Irritate Everyone?

Muttering an oath, he banished the bottle of Firewhiskey back to the small cupboard and cast a silent cleaning spell on the tumbler, rising from his armchair to extinguish the fire. Unusually enough, he decided to go to bed. There wasn't any work to be done for the moment, and his blasted headache was getting worse. No, a glass of water, a headache relieving potion and then to bed felt like the best plan.

As he turned to walk to his bedroom, he spotted light spilling out of the small bedroom, Frowning, he strode over there and unceremoniously opened the door. The Potter boy was sitting on his covers, the light shining softly, casting shadows up the walls. He had a photo in his hands, and Severus heard the unmistakable sound of sniffling. Pursing his lips he walked up to the boy and, rather cautiously, sat down on the edge of his bed. Harry made no reaction at the professor's sitting so closely to him, but brusquely swiped the tears out of his face and put the photograph carefully to one side. Severus recognised it as one he had had on his desk previously, one of Lily. He decided, however, not to ask how the boy had got it. Instead, though it felt as strange as one could possibly imagine, he hauled the boy over to him, settled him by his side, and placed an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," the boy sniffled. Severus said nothing for a moment, but stared at the opposite wall, his arm curving naturally around the slight, shaking frame. "She-she's g-gone…" he whispered, and Severus realised that the boy had never fully grieved his parents. Living with his relatives, he had been so constricted, so bound by their foul beliefs. Their cruel treatment of the boy who'd lost his family before he even got to know them had probably scarred the child more than was first discernible. Now, when he finally had a living connection to his parents, it was most likely very difficult to think passively about his lost parents.

"I know," Severus said quietly.

"I-I-I…"

"Shush," he said quietly, rubbing his hand up and down, thoroughly uncomfortable to comfort a child grieving his dead parents, especially since Severus had not quite come to terms with Lily's death himself.

When Harry broke into gut-wrenching sobs, Severus did what felt natural, what his own father had done so many years ago, when Severus had lost his grandmother: he lifted the boy by his armpits and placed him in his lap, wrapping his arms around him, rocking him back and forth, and letting the silence speak volumes.