�Harry, we need to talk,� said Severus.

 Silently, Harry nodded.  He didn�t trust himself to speak.

 I really do resemble him.  There�s more of my mum in me than before, too.  Somehow, the resemblance between himself and Snape seemed much more natural than that which Harry had formerly had to James Potter.  It was as though Harry were less of a carbon copy of James and more clearly the son of both Lily Potter and Severus Snape. 

 �I suppose Dumbledore told you this has to remain a secret,� Severus began awkwardly, taking a seat in the chair beside the bed.

 Again, Harry nodded without saying anything.  I knew it.  He�d as soon keep it that way forever, so he can just pretend it never happened.

 �I don�t want to pretend that what we found out last night never happened, though,� his father continued.

 �Why not?  Because Fudge will have your hide if he finds out just how I happen to be your son?� asked Harry coldly.  Internally, he winced the moment the words left his mouth.  That was a low blow, and he knew it.  But he didn�t want to take it back, either.

 �No, boy, because you�ll be caught in a tug-of-war between Voldemort and the Ministry, and neither I nor Albus have the slightest idea what to do if that happens,� snapped Snape, sounding to Harry for a moment like the irascible, sarcastic Potions Master he had always known his father to be.

 Harry flushed in embarrassment.  �Oh,� he said, and Severus� face softened just a bit.

 �D�you really think Fudge would use me as a pawn?� Harry asked quietly.  Fudge had, after all, refused outright to believe that Voldemort had returned.

 His father�s dark eyebrows narrowed, though Harry didn�t think the anger was directed at him.  �Yes,� he said shortly.  �Damn the man,� he added under his breath.  It was clear to Harry that Severus disliked Fudge; apparently, Severus� loyalty truly was to Dumbledore, not the Minister of Magic or Voldemort.

 That was somewhat comforting.  But Harry was still uneasy as to exactly what Snape planned to do now.  The man was so confusing.  Harry had always known Snape to be sarcastic and cruel, but the latter�s behavior over the past few days was markedly mellower.  In fact, ever since Snape had seen Harry�s injuries, the man seemed to be making an effort to avoid baiting the boy.

 �So-what�s going to happen now?� asked Harry, trying to prevent the trepidation he felt inside from leaking out into his voice.  He fidgeted with the bedclothes, some of his inner turmoil expressing itself as he twisted a corner of the sheet back and forth between his fingers.  The digits were, he noticed, longer and shaped differently than before.

 Severus caught the anxious note in the boy�s voice and ran a hand through his hair in thought.  What should he say?  He wanted to reassure the boy, partly because the charade they would have to act out required self-assurance from Harry, and partly, he realised, because he genuinely cared about Harry�s well-being.

 �In public, I�ll have to continue to treat you as I always have, and discriminate against you and the rest of Gryffindor House.  No one must know that our relationship is other than what it has always appeared to be.  But Harry,� said Severus seriously, �the way I treat you in public is only an act.  Don�t forget that.�

 Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. 

 �Unfortunately, you�ll have to disguise your appearance.  Dumbledore�s taking care of that.  You look- too much like me for a disguise to be unnecessary.  Though�there�s a good bit of- of your mother in you as well,� Snape�s face became closed as he gazed at Harry, and his voice had grown slightly thicker at the last.

 Harry studied his father, not quite sure what to make of him.  Ever since Harry had first come to Hogwarts, Snape had avoided mention of Harry�s mother.  In fact, the man seemed to get a bit choked up every time he mentioned her.  Snape must have really cared about her, Harry realised.  No one had ever really told Harry what his mother was like, and with a sudden, desperate pang of grief and longing, Harry wished he could have known her.

 �How- how am I like her?� he asked quietly.

 Severus sucked in a sharp breath, his black eyes focusing intently on his son.

 �You have her eyes, of course,� he began slowly, meeting Harry�s brilliant green gaze.  �She had this long, lovely auburn hair.  There are undertones of it in your own hair, where the light catches it,� he added, reaching out to deftly brush a dark strand out of Harry�s face.  �But it�s your Gryffindor traits that make you most like her: courage, loyalty, determination.  She was extremely gifted in her own right, but she didn�t like to draw a great deal of attention to her talents.  Not unlike yourself.  Lily was one of the most caring people I�ve ever known, she always brought out the best in everybody.  She would have given her life to save those she loved at any time.  As she did for you,� Severus said softly.

 Harry blinked furiously against the prickling in his eyes, slumping back against his pillows.  He pulled the blanket around himself a little more closely.  His mother had still loved him enough to die for him, even though he wasn�t James Potter�s son.  It had to be true.  Back in his first year, Harry had been protected from Voldemort�s follower, Quirrell, because Lily Potter�s love for Harry was so deeply powerful it had left its mark of protection on him.

 �How�s your back?� asked Severus, recalling the wounds as Harry sat back.

 �Better, I think.  It doesn�t hurt any more.  Madam Pomfrey didn�t find out about it, either.�

 �Let�s see how those cuts are doing, eh?  The potion I put on them last night should have helped heal them significantly, but they should probably be cleaned again if you don�t want scars.�

 �Okay,� Harry said, removing his shirt and allowing his father to clean the wounds.  He definitely didn�t want more scars; the ones he already had, on his forehead and the on the crook of his right arm, contained bad enough memories as it was.

 The boy�s back and shoulders did look much improved.  There was no sign of infection, and Severus was pleased to note that several of the cuts that had been open the night before had closed.  New flesh had begun to grow on the closed wounds, which would hopefully not form scars if the potion were effective.  Only time would tell, however.  The wounds had not been treated until several weeks after being inflicted, and scar tissue might have already begun to form.

 �What�s in the potion?� Harry asked curiously.  He was fairly certain it wasn�t one he had learned in Potions class. 

 �You tell me,� said Severus.  To Harry�s surprise, there was a distinct glimmer of mischief in his father�s black eyes.  Harry began to suspect that Snape had probably played just as many pranks on the Marauders as they had on him.

 The boy studied the small bottle the Potions Master placed in his hand, sniffing the mixture cautiously.

 “Erm, let’s see...smells like- betony, comfrey…daisy, I think, and-“ he sniffed the potion again, “a little bit of centaury.” 

 �Very good,� said Severus, breaking out into a smile.  �I didn�t expect you to know that one; your class won�t be going over Healing Potions till later on this year.  But then again, if you could pull off a potion like yesterday�s, I�m not really surprised.�

 Harry started to grin in pleasure at the rare compliment, but his face suddenly contorted in pain.  He curled up on his side, trembling violently and clutching his scar.  It was burning to the point that his entire head throbbed, gradually intensifying so that his head felt as though it were being split in two.  Sweat began to pour down his face.

 Alarmed, Severus leapt to his feet.

 �Harry, what�s wrong?  What is it?�

 Harry couldn�t hear him.  He could no longer make out the images of the hospital wing or his father.  Instead, a vision of an island filled his eyes.  It was surrounded by Dementors, and with a cold feeling inside, Harry knew this must be Azkaban.  To his horror, he made out the image of Voldemort, flanked by the cowering Wormtail.  Voldemort seemed to be talking to the Dementors, but Harry couldn�t understand what the dark wizard was saying over the roar of the water.  The Dementor to whom Voldemort was speaking raised one skeletal arm in signal, and more Dementors poured out of the fortress.  An icy claw gripped Harry�s heart as he realised that Voldemort was persuading the Dementors to join him.  Even worse, the Dark Lord seemed to have convinced most of the creatures.

 �Harry!  Wake up, Harry!�

 His father was tapping him hard on the face.  As Harry�s eyes flickered open, he leaned back in relief.

 �What happened?  Are you all right?� demanded Severus.

 �I saw-� Harry�s voice came out in a whisper.  His throat was dry.  He tried again.  �I saw Voldemort,� he said more firmly.  He fought to keep himself from trembling.  The pain in his head was beginning to fade, but now nausea washed over him again.  �He was at Azkaban.  I think he�s managed to convince the Dementors to join him��

 Severus paled.

 �Dumbledore will have to be told right away�� he muttered, glancing towards the door as if hoping to see the Headmaster.  Then he caught sight of Harry�s face, which had turned a pale, sickly green colour that contrasted sharply with the dark hair surrounding it.  The boy�s forehead was damp with sweat, and his breathing was ragged.  Quickly Severus placed the back of his hand against Harry�s forehead.

 �You�re burning up!�

 �I think it�s just my scar,� said Harry.  Gradually, his breathing slowed and became easier, but he was still trembling.  �This has happened before- my scar burning and me seeing Voldemort, I mean.  It�ll probably go back to normal pretty quickly.�  He started to sit up, but fell back against the pillows.  �Dizzy,� Harry muttered.

 Taking Harry�s wrist, Severus felt the pulse.  It was racing, but it soon began to slow down to a more normal rate.  Soaking a cloth with water from a pitcher, he wrung it out and murmured, �Frigio!�  Instantly the cloth cooled, and Severus placed it on Harry�s forehead, brushing the damp hair out of the way.

 �I�ve got to talk to Dumbledore, tell him what happened.  I�ll be back.  Just try to rest, all right?  Sleep it off.� 

 �Okay,� said Harry.  Aunt Petunia had never watched over him when he was sick.  Knowing that his father was coming back was somehow reassuring, though Harry wouldn�t have cared to admit it.  As Severus was about to leave the doorway, the young wizard called out.

 �Wait!  Er- can I ask you something?�

 �What is it?�

 �What should I call you now?  I mean, �Professor� in public, obviously, but- well, what about the rest of the time?�

 The earnestness and anxiety in Harry�s voice did not go unnoticed by Severus.  At the same time, the question hit the Potions Master hard.

 �Harry, I won�t make you call me anything unless you want to.  I�ll understand if you don�t want to call me Dad.  And I can�t say I�d blame you if you didn�t want me as your father, but I�d like to try and be one to you.  This is�going to take some getting used to, for both of us.  If you�d rather not call me Dad till you�re more comfortable with the idea, just call me professor or sir.  Agreed?�

 �Agreed,� said Harry.

 *          *            *

 �Does he have these visions often?� asked Severus, pacing back and forth in Dumbledore�s office.  He had just told the Headmaster of the vision Harry had seen in the hospital wing.  Several of the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistress were distracted from their dozing at his movement, and they glared at him in annoyance. 

 �Only twice that I am aware of; both visions were of Voldemort.  I believe that Harry�s scar links him to Voldemort and occasionally enables him to �listen in� on the Dark Lord, so to speak.�

 Severus scowled.  He didn�t like the idea of a connection between Voldemort and his son.  Furthermore, Severus was reminded that Voldemort was determined to eliminate Harry.  The boy needed to keep a low profile at the moment; any extra public awareness of the fact would only draw attention to the Boy-Who-Lived.  At the same time, Harry needed to be protected.  Hogwarts was fairly safe, but Severus knew it was not impregnable.  Quirrell and Barty Crouch had proved that. 

 Severus also knew that living with the Dursleys protected the boy from Voldemort, but after learning of Harry�s experience during the summer, he didn�t want Harry sent back there if it were at all avoidable.  Ideally, Severus wished Harry could live with him.  Well, why shouldn�t he?  He�s my son, after all!  But with a pang of resentment and guilt, he knew there existed a multitude of obstacles.  Would Harry even want to live with him?  Even if he did, would it be safe?  Would Dumbledore- or the Ministry- allow it?  Severus decided to wait a bit and see how his and Harry�s situation progressed before bringing his idea up with Dumbledore.

 �I�ll be getting back to Harry now, Albus.�

 Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. 

 �Very well, you do that.  I�ll be down in a little bit to do the Mirror Charm.  Would you like to stay while I cast it?�

 Severus blinked.  He hadn�t considered that.  But then again, he wanted to monitor Harry in case the boy became ill once more.

 �Yes, I think I would, as long as Harry doesn�t mind my being there.  That vision seemed to aggravate whatever�s making him ill; I�d like to keep an eye on him in case the Mirror Charm does as well.�

 �If Harry�s illness is a side effect of the wearing off of whatever charm was used to disguise him, perhaps placing the Mirror Charm on him will halt those side effects,� Dumbledore suggested.

 �Perhaps.  Well, I�ll go see how he�s doing.  See you in a bit.�

 *          *            *

 Severus was so absorbed in his thoughts as he walked towards the hospital wing that he didn’t notice young Draco Malfoy leaving from that direction until he nearly walked straight into the blond-haired Slytherin.  Muttering a hasty apology, Malfoy’s Head of House continued on his way, leaving the fifth-year student to stare in astonishment after his uncharacteristically clumsy professor.