1

“Well,” James Potter murmurs softly, staring into his wife’s baby's face, “He looks just like his father, but he’s got his mother’s eyes.” It’s the first words anyone says about the child. Maybe that means something, like a fairy godmother bestowing a wish. Probably not. 

He looks up at her, and he’s smiling, but it’s not a happy smile. Lily doesn’t understand. How can he not be happy? She’s the happiest she’s ever been, and when James finally bloody lets her hold her son she’ll be even happier. James sighs, looks down at the baby, and his smile becomes more real, thank God. He carefully shuffles around so that he can approach Lily without bumping the baby, and slowly leans down until she can take her son in her arms. 

He’s incredible. A tiny little person, breathing and watching, and they made him. She closes her eyes for a moment, and basks in the feeling of holding their baby. She can’t hold out much longer, she has to see what James meant, how adorably like his dad he’ll look. She opens her eyes and, yes, it feels like her eyes reflected staring back at her. And yes, he does look like his father. Tiny hooked nose, puffs of silky straight hair and all.

She sits there, mouth open, staring at her baby as her mood plummets. “Oh.” She says. “Fuck.”

James sighs, and sits next to her on the edge of the bed so he wrap his arm around her shoulder. He kisses her hair, and reaches out so softly to stroke her son’s mostly bald head. Lily breathes in sharply and he holds her tight. Emotions are always difficult right after birth, they were prepared for that. They just… weren’t expecting some of the extenuating circumstances. She breaths in and out too quickly, and James tries to keep his breathing calm to steady her, but then she’s crying and her baby’s crying because his mum’s crying and James swoops in to pick him up and gently, gently hold him to his chest and rock him backwards and forwards, up and down, just the littlest bit. He coos and sings a bit of the lullaby he’d been practising to pass down to his son, and he holds Lily’s baby close to his heart until he’s tired himself out and he begins to sniffle his way to sleep. Lily has tired herself out too, and she buries her face in his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers.

“Oh, Lils.” He doesn’t really know what else to say. “Oh, Lils.” His hands are busy with the baby, but he can just about move his head to rest on the top of hers. Her baby whimpers in his sleep. His baby. Fuck it. James’ baby now, the bastard had his chance.

“Well, Lily? What’ll we name our baby?”

2

Severus Snape apparates to the playground just off Privet Drive. There’s a spot behind a bush where people smoke weed, and where Lily had apparated in to check on her sister, before she went into hiding. He’s here because he can’t find the baby in any of the places he would have taken a baby to, and he can’t find Dumbledore to yell at him until he tells him where the baby is. This is the only place he can think of that might have been planned as a rendezvous, not that Dumbledore had ever actually told him as much. The lamppost lights are turning out at the far end of the close and he runs towards them.

Minerva leaps out of her animagus form as Severus points his wand at Dumbledore’s chest. He isn’t holding a baby.

“It’s all right, Minerva.” Dumbledore says calmly, gesturing for her to put away her wand.

“That depends,” Severus growls, “On why you’re in Little Whinging.”

“I am here to make sure a lost boy is reunited with his family.” Dumbledore replies.

Severus twitches, and Minerva tightens her hold on her wand. Sensible woman. “His family.” He sneers.

“I don’t agree because they're Muggles, Albus,” Minerva has no context for this conversation and yet she thinks her opinion is needed all the same, “But they are the worst sort of Muggles.”

“Have you had the pleasure of meeting Petunia Evans?” Severus snaps.

“I haven’t,” Minerva replies, glancing between Severus and Dumbledore, “But I have been watching her and her husband all day. They seem to be a perfect match for each other.”

“I never got to know Dursley, because Petunia stopped speaking to her sister ten years ago. When they were living in the same house. I only know they have a son because Lily still subscribed to the Whinging Express so that she could try and keep up to date with anything important in her sister’s life, like a child. From the christening announcement, their darling son looks just like his father, but he has his mother’s hair. I’m sure they’ll be raising him marvellously.” He said scornfully.

Minerva’s wand arm wavers as he rants. She seems surprised that he has kept up to date with Lily’s life. He should probably feel less disappointed.

“Severus,” Dumbledore says, “The boy must be kept safe - what other choice is there?”

Severus shoots forward and shoves his wand under Dumbledore’s chin. “What other choice is there? What other choice?!” Minerva has her wand aimed at his head, and he ignores her. He won’t actually kill Dumbledore, because then he won’t ever find out where he’s hidden Harry.

“I cannot take a baby to Hogwarts, no matter how protected the castle is.”

“I fail to understand how the baby is your responsibility, Headmaster.” Severus says through gritted teeth. “He is not enrolled in your school. Neither was his mother. She did not will him to you.”

Dumbledore looks at him over his stupid half-moon glasses. “Nor did she will him to you, Severus.”

“SHE DIDN'T NEED TO!” Severus yells. A cat yowls in response, and a few porch lights click on. Minerva casts some kind of deflection charm. “She never made a will, because if she died and Potter wasn’t there to look after the baby, then the baby was certainly dead too.”

Dumbledore frowns at him and Severus wants to punch him. “And there was no will, and because his godfather is being hunted by the Aurors, someone must look after the child.”

“And why,” Severus hisses, “Is that person not me?”

“Severus - you’re not - well,” Minerva says, trying to be nice about something that isn’t, “You are - his.”

Severus spits on the ground. “I haven’t been His since Lily’s baby was born. I’ve been in your Headmaster’s pocket, and he wouldn’t even let me fight to protect them.”

Minerva gasps, and when Dumbledore doesn’t contradict him, she puts her wand away. She gently touches his elbow, and he flinches, jabbing Dumbledore in the throat in the process. He doesn’t react.

“Well - Severus, I am so glad to know you are on our side, but... You are no more suited to childcare than Albus or I, you have to admit-”

“Harry looks just like his father, have you heard that?” Severus interrupts.

“I - yes.” She replies. “I’ve seen him, and he does. He has his mother’s eyes.” She puts her hand to her mouth as her eyes water and Severus cannot stand that she can cry over Lily’s death, but would let her child live with Petunia fucking Evans. She thinks he looks like James.

Dumbledore looks at him with pity, and Severus knows he has lost. He’s lost Harry. He pulls his wand arm back, holsters his wand, and punches Dumbledore in the face. He hears bones crack. He apparates away before he can hear Minerva’s shout.

3

Ten years later, there’s a knock at his office door, three days before the end of the school year. Some fifth-year attempting to bribe him for early OWL results, he expects. He’s had that conversation three times already.

“Enter.” He snaps, flicking the lock open with a wave of his finger.

“Er, hullo, Severus.”

It’s Hagrid, of all people. He raises an eyebrow at him. “Rubeus.”

“Can I come in?”

“Be my guest.” Severus drawls. He waves his hand towards the middle of the room. “My apologies, but I don’t have any giant-proof furniture.”

“Ah, that’s alrigh’, I won’t keep yer long.” Severus shuts the door behind him as Hagrid draws out a book from somewhere in his ridiculous coat.

“I wanted to ask yer a favour.” He stops, looking at the Boomslang snake in the tank on his workbench. As it’s Hagrid, he could feasibly be interested in it, but it’s probably that he’s expecting Severus to immediately shut him down.

“Go on.”

Hagrid looks up, eyes bright. “It’s uh, well. D’yer have any pictures of Lily?”

“What.”

“I know you don’ exactly like him, but I jus’ thought - Harry didn’t know nothin’ about his mum and dad. His aunt told him they died in a bloody car crash, so I reckon that bitch-” He stops rambling and cringes.

“For once, we are in agreement.” Severus mutters.

Hagrid relaxes. “Well, I reckon she probably didn’t have any pictures of them, and Harry definitely didn’t.”

Severus looks at him, waiting for an actual explanation. None is forthcoming. “So?”

“So, I went around and asked for any pictures folks had of them. I put them in this book here, and I’ll give it to the poor lad when he goes away for the summer.” Hagrid fidgets, then holds the book out towards Severus. “You were her best friend. I reckon you’ll have more photos of her than the rest of us put together.” The half giant is brave enough to look him in the eye as he says it.

Severus takes the book. He doesn’t say anything. Hagrid nods, and shuffles out of his office. Once the door clicks shut behind him, Severus dares to open the book. It’s a wonderful selection of photographs. It’s nearly full, as Hagrid sensibly left him until last. He turns the pages, skipping past pages of Potter and Black and Lupin, and lingering over their wedding pictures and the rare photographs of Lily on her own. If he cries on the pictures, they’ll be damaged, so he doesn’t.

He transfigures and charmes some extra pages in place, and summons the album from the second drawer of his desk. He long ago memorised the photographs inside. Harry needs them more than he does, now.

When the train rounded a corner and Hogwarts disappeared behind a mountain, Harry pulled out the package Hagrid had given him on the platform.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, through a mouthful of chocolate frog.

“I don’t know, Hagrid gave it to me just as the train was leaving.” Harry said. He untied the string and carefully pulled away the paper.

“Oh, it’s a photo album!” Hermione said. “I didn’t think wizards would go in for that sort of thing.”

“Well, why wouldn’t we? Photos are a lot easier to make than portraits.”

Harry looked at the people on the cover, confused. He looked inside, but there wasn’t a label. The two people on the front seemed to be in most of the pictures inside as well. “I don't understand. Who are they?”

“They’re your parents, Harry!” Hermione said, shocked. “Haven’t you ever seen a picture of them?”

He shrugged. “My aunt didn’t have any.”

“Well, it’s definitely them.” Hermione said. “Look, your dad looks just like you.”

He nodded slowly. Everyone told him that. He leafed through the book. He could see his eyes staring back at him from the ginger woman - she must be Lily. But whoever the man in the album was, Harry didn’t look anything like him at all.

4

“Why would Snape do that?” Harry asked. They’d been hiding in the forest for what felt like ages, but he knew it hadn’t even been an hour yet. He could tell, because Hermione kept checking her watch.

“Do what?” Hermione replied.

“Lie about Sirius, so he’d get the Kiss.”

Hermione frowned. “Professor Lupin told us why he doesn’t like Sirius - because of that awful prank he pulled. Not that I’d call it a prank.”

“Well yeah, but it was Snape that saved us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know it’s weird, but at this point I’m used to Snape hating my guts and then saving my life. But he saved Sirius too.”

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“He saved us from the Dementors!” Harry said, gesturing towards the Black Lake. “I saw him across the lake! He cast the Patronus that chased them all away.”

Hermione stared at him. “He did? I’m surprised he could cast that spell. I know he’s good at Defence Against the Dark Arts -”

“Or just the Dark Arts, more like.” Harry muttered.

“- but I thought - well, I thought Dark wizards couldn’t case the Patronus Charm.”

Harry shuffled uncomfortably. “He couldn’t be that Dark if Dumbledore is still letting him teach. He’s not an idiot.”

“I suppose so…” Hermione said uncertainly. “Are you sure it was him?”

“It was definitely him. He was far away, but the nose is hard to hide. His Patronus was a deer I think.”

Hermione stared out at the Black Lake. Buckbeak snorted and coughed up a bone. “Well. He probably meant to save you, and maybe me, and Sirius was just in the right place at the right time.”

“For Snape to kidnap him and give him to Fudge, you mean. Yeah, perfect timing.”

Hermione sighed. “And that’s why we’re here. If Snape hadn’t been there to save us, we wouldn’t have had a chance to make it right.”

“Yeah, fine.” Harry said. He sat down next to Buckbeak, and they waited.

“Harry, you can’t be seen!” Hermione hissed.

“I won’t! I just - I want to know why he did it.”

“You can’t know unless you speak to him, which you can’t!”

Harry ignored her. “I’ll be careful. I’ll just be there for a minute.”

When he reached the spot where he’d seen Snape before, there was nobody there. He stayed hidden in the bushes, waiting for him to appear. No one came. Harry glanced worriedly over to where their past selves had fallen, and the Dementors were dangerously close. Where was he?! Any second now, or it would be too late. Nothing. Harry looked around one more time for Snape, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had to do something - better to be seen time travelling than lose his soul in the past. He jumped out, thought of Sirius and the brilliant times they’d have together in his house, and the fact that even though Snape hated him he’d saved him again, and he thought about the fact that even though Snape wasn’t there, Harry knew he would have saved them if he could.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A glow leapt from the end of his wand, and he could tell it was much stronger than he’d ever managed before. As it grew, it formed into the shape of an animal - four tall legs, a small body and a delicate pointed head. The doe pranced towards the Dementors and jumped between them, scattering them as it kicked out with its hind legs and shoved its head into their ghostly bodies. It circled around their unconscious bodies once more to check that the Dementors weren’t coming back, and then trotted back to Harry. He held out a hand and it - she - nuzzled it. 

“Hello,” he said, softly. “Are you a doe because my Dad was Prongs?”

She didn’t answer, not that he’d expected her to. Instead, she nudged his knees, like she was trying to push him, though he couldn’t feel her. He quickly looked up when he heard snapping twigs as somebody approached - whoever it had been who had found them earlier. He patted her head once more, cancelled the spell, then ran back to find Hermione. He hadn’t even been seen, so she couldn’t be too angry with him.

Severus runs until he reaches the shore of the Black Lake, but it’s too late. Harry is safe, yes, and the Dementors are gone - but so is the doe Patronus, and whoever had cast it to save him. 

5

Sirius found him glaring at the burned gap in the Black family tapestry where James Potter used to be. He sighed, and Harry ignored him. 

“Something on your mind, Harry?”

“I don’t think I want to be like my dad, if that’s the kind of person he was.”

Sirius took a moment to answer. “What have you heard about him?”

“I’ve been having Occlumency lessons with Snape.”

Sirius laughed. “Well you can’t trust anything Snivellus would say about James, Harry, surely you know that by now.”

“He didn’t say anything.” Harry snapped. “He accidentally let me into his mind. I - I saw it. He didn’t have to say anything.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And what awful things were we doing in Snivellus’ riveting memories?”

“You don’t have to be as evil as Voldemort to be a bad person.” Harry muttered. 

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “Alright, fair point. I take it we weren’t being stellar role models?”

“You were bullies.” Harry said bluntly. “Just like what Dudley used to do to me, and how Draco treats Hermione now. Making fun of Snape for what he looked like and because he was friends with a girl my dad had a crush on.”

“Yes. We were.” 

Harry looked up at Sirius. He was staring at the tapestry too, but he was looking right through it. 

“We were stupid boys, being mean in the playground. I’m not proud that we did it, though it doesn’t help matters that Snape becoming a Death Eater made us think we were right.”

“You weren’t boys, you were fifteen. At least.”

Sirius nodded again. “Yeah. We were. I think Snape had to grow up faster than any of us did. Your mum was always telling us we were immature - because we were. I can’t defend our past actions, Harry - we were wrong. But that’s not who your dad became - he learned, he grew. He was a hero, Harry. That’s how we have to remember him.”

“Why should I?” Harry said. He poked at the hole in the tapestry. “You don’t. You still call him Snivellus.”

“It’s just a joke, Harry.”

“That’s what you said when you nearly made Lupin kill him.”

Sirius sighed. “Fine. I’m still childish, I’m still wrong. You’re still like your dad in all the good ways, and you’ve got enough of your mum in you that you managed to avoid the bad.”

Harry bit his tongue. He hated fighting with Sirius. He just wanted it to be perfect, all the time. But it wasn’t. “What ways am I like him? Really?”

Sirius frowned. “Can’t believe you’re not sick of hearing them, honestly.” Harry said nothing. “Well, you’re a brilliant Quidditch player -”

“He was a Chaser.”

“That’s personal preference, you’re brilliant on a broom. He was amazing in DADA, he learned the Patronus charm early too. And, well, of course you inherited his devastatingly good looks.”

“He was head boy and amazing in all his classes!” He retorted. “Flitwick told me he got top of his year in Charms! I’m on track to get an Acceptable! And you can just - just stop lying to me about it all. It’s obvious I don’t look anything like him, so it just makes the rest of it pathetic. I’m not as smart as him, I’m not as good as him, I’m not living up to anything he set down. And I’m glad I’m not.”

Sirius stared at him. He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

“So just stop lying to me about it.” Harry said finally. Then he stalked out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Harry stumped down the stairs a few hours later, but he stayed on the bits of the floorboards that didn’t make a sound, as always. He came to a stop as he heard voices behind the tapestry room door. It sounded like Sirius and Dumbledore. Why was the headmaster here? It was the holidays, there wasn’t an Order meeting tonight, and it’s not like he was here to talk to Harry. Harry summoned an Extendable Ear from somewhere in his pocket, and gently tossed it towards the crack at the bottom of the door. He found a place out of sight underneath the bannisters, and settled in to listen.

“- you can’t let him carry on teaching him.” Sirius was saying.

“And who else could teach him? Occlumency is not a widely practised art, and we cannot completely trust anyone outside of the Order.”

“What, so suddenly you’re not a teacher anymore?”

“You know I cannot tell you what I am doing with my time, but please trust me that it is not something I can simply put down and walk away from.”

“Fine. Then it’s not worth continuing the lessons.”

“Have you talked to Harry about this? Why are you so suddenly set on endangering him?”

“Because Snape is getting in his head!” Sirius shouted. Harry winced as the Extendable Ear screamed directly into his earlobe.

“My boy, that is rather the point of Occlumency.”

“Piss off, Albus.” Harry couldn’t help smiling. Even when he’d yelled at him, Sirius was still in his corner. “The things he’s been telling Harry have been seriously hurting him.”

“And what things are they?”

“He’s told him about the stupid shit we pulled when we were teenagers. Harry knows parts of it, obviously, but it’s clearly one-sided, and also just… not what he needs to hear right now. He’s an orphan, he’s been forced into a war from before he was born, and he’s a bloody moody teenager. Hearing shit about his father, the man he’s held up as a role model - it’s not good.”

“It is the truth - though I agree that the timing is not ideal. But I fail to see how this is actively harming Harry.”

“It’s, I don’t know, his self-esteem. I swear it wasn’t a problem last year, even when he was in a death tournament against people so much more qualified than him, but now he’s worrying about how nothing he’s done measures up to his dad, and that he doesn’t want to anyway. This was never a problem before.”

“I must point out that you have spent very little time with Harry before this year - and a teenage boy always has some concerns about his own adequacy.”

“He thinks he’s ugly, of all the things to be worrying about - he told me he thinks we’re all lying about him looking like his father, even though it’s obviously the truth. Snape’s got to him, Albus - how can he not look in the mirror and clearly see his dad?”

There was a long pause. Harry thought he should probably stop listening, but he didn’t. 

“He is a teenage boy, Sirius. Fifth year was hard for us all. He’ll recognise himself in the mirror again, just give him time.”

Harry stopped listening.

+1

Harry rubbed his eyes as yet another memory surfaced. Snape knelt before Dumbledore on some blustering hilltop. He didn’t look much older than last time. He looked bad. 

“He thinks it means Harry!” Snape cried.

“Harry? Harry Potter?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes! Born to those who have thrice defied him…” He trailed off.

“You are not concerned about Lily?”

“Of course I am, but the prophecy is about Harry… hide them, please!” Severus begged. “Keep him - them - safe. Let me help! Let me fight for you!”

“ I cannot allow a Death Eater to protect the family that Voldemort thinks contain the prophecy.” Dumbledore said coldly.

“I’ll do anything.” Snape replied. “Anything for Harry.”

“And what has Harry Potter, a boy not yet a year old, done to deserve such loyalty?” Dumbledore asked.

Snape didn’t respond for a full minute. 

“Coming here, to talk to you, is the third time I have defied the Dark Lord.”

The hilltop faded, and Harry stood in Dumbledore’s office. 

“You’ve taken him from me. I can’t imagine what else you want to rip from my soul.”

“Severus.” Dumbledore said calmly. “It’s clear what you must do.”

“Is it?”

“Harry still lives, and he is safe, for now. But he will need protection.”

“And obviously I would give it to him.”

“He needs to be safe. When Voldemort returns, he will not be safe with you.”

“What do you expect me to do, then?” Snape snapped. “Buy the house next door to Dursley? Or move to Australia and pretend I have no relation to the boy?”

“Neither.” Dumbledore said. “You can protect him without endangering him, as long as nobody knows the truth of the link between the two of you.”

“I’ve kept the secret for two years, what’s a lifetime more?” Snape said bitterly.

“This is not a joking matter. I need your word.”

Snape’s hands clenched into fists. “You have it.”

Dumbledore held out his wand arm. “I need more than just your voice to confirm that.” 

Snape looked at his wand, and as a golden spark of fire lept from it, he flinched.

The scene shifted again. They were in the same room, but it was evening now.

“He nearly killed me last year because of that damned vow!” Snape shouted.

“Of all the ways in which Harry has tried to kill you, I doubt this was the closest to succeeding.” Dumbledore replied with a sigh.

“I have no desire to test its limits!” Snape spat.

“Severus, I don’t know what you want from me.” Dumbledore said, spreading his arms. Harry noticed the withered end to his right hand. 

“I want this farce to end. I can’t stand it. Not with what you’re asking me to do.”

“If you tell Harry, news will spread.” Dumbledore said blandly. “He has good, reliable friends, that he will tell, and they will talk to people they trust, and within a month all of Wizarding Britain will know.” 

“And?” Snape responded. “It’s just one more scandal under my belt.”

“ And, we cannot jeopardise our place in this war because of sentimentality.”

“It jeopardises nothing. It has no meaning to anyone other than Harry and myself.”

“But you are wrong,” Dumbledore said. “It has every meaning to Voldemort. He would instantly use it against us.”

“Voldemort already knows of Harry’s tendency to run into hostage situations. Harry has dozens of friends he would die for, and somehow, despite everything you’ve made me do,” Snape paused, took a deep breath, and continued, “I already count as one of them.”

“I am not worried about Harry.” Dumbledore said.

“I am.” Snape retorted.

“I am worried about you, Severus.” Dumbledore said. Snape raised an eyebrow. “You are the biggest danger in this scenario.”

“I’m already a danger! Voldemort has already ordered Harry captured! According to your plan, I’ll be holding him at wand point mere seconds after killing his only mentor in this war!”

Dumbledore nodded graciously. “And then, when Voldemort finds out, as he would do, you would immediately become his next target for interrogation. What wouldn’t you do, what secrets wouldn’t you reveal, to save Harry’s life?”

Harry wished he knew when the stream of memories would end. He felt like he had been hit with earth-shattering revelation after earth-shattering revelation, with no time to breathe. The next memory began slowly, at least, and he stood staring out of the Headmaster’s office window into dark of the Forbidden Forest. 

“Harry.”

Harry jumped at being addressed directly, and turned back to the centre of the room. It was the first time Snape had ever called him Harry to his face. He stood right in front of Harry, looking directly at him as though he was making eye contact.  

It was like looking in a mirror. 

“I know I will not survive whatever the Dark Lord is planning tomorrow. I hope that, somehow, this memory makes its way to you.”

Snape reached out a hand in front of him, and Harry couldn’t resist the urge to try to take it. His hand fell through, as it always did in memories.

“I have compiled memories that I believe will help you understand many things that are crucial to this war, that I have been unable to tell you in person.” Snape stood silently for a full minute. He swallowed, tried to speak, then paused again. “I am sorry, Harry. I am so very sorry. So many decisions were made, by me and for me, that I deeply regret have led to this circumstance where I cannot even tell you explicitly the most important piece of information I have to give.”

“You managed to tell me anyway.” Harry said, though he knew Snape couldn’t hear him. 

“So, I suppose, I should tell you something else - that you’ll have heard countless times. But I would like you to be able to hear it from somebody who actually understands.”

Snape stopped again, breathing slowly. Harry found himself matching his breaths.

“You look just like your father.” Snape said. “But you have your mother’s eyes.”