Some people live their entire life without regrets. They do the right thing, forgive themselves for their rare mistake, and live a life they are genuinely proud of. Severus Snape was not one of those men. In fact, he was the opposite. Regrets defined his life.

There was the time he had stood stock still in the corner and watched his Father break his Mother's nose; the time called Lily a mudblood; the time he had crawled further and further in to the dark side until he had crawled far enough to kiss Voldemort's robes, delivering that final, horrible property that ended in Lily's death. He had done things, terrible things. He wasn't naive enough to expect forgiveness for them, from himself, or anyone.

In fact, right now, Severus was dwelling on his latest regret. He was alone, staring at the opposite wall of the dungeon as a cauldron full of red, Pepper-Up potion simmered beside him. As a rule, he was as careful controlling his emotions in public as he was in private, but at this moment, alone in the dungeon, the inscrutability had slipped. Anyone who poked in their head in the room would have found Snape slumped forward, staring at the wall, his forehead wrinkled in confusion, his thin lips pursed as shadows danced across his black eyes.

The problem was Harry Potter. The problem was always Harry Potter. Actually, the problem was Dumbledore and the fact that his carefully placed wards had not prevented a Ghangzou from slinking into the school from the Forbidden Forest. The problem was also Professor Flitwick, who insisted that the star on top of the tree be garish and coated with Evershine serum. If Flitwick hadn't made Harry come down to the dungeons, Severus wouldn't have been too petrified at seeing Harry and a deadly monster to act and he would have killed the Ghangzou and neither he nor Harry would have been pulled into that alternate universe where everything was different.

With an abrupt huff of annoyance, he got to his feet and walked over to to his desk. An empty sheet of parchment lay waiting for him. He picked up a self-inking quill and allowed it to hover over the parchment. He had tried several times over the past few days to craft a letter to Sirius and Harry excusing himself from Christmas. Every time he tried, a voice he hadn't heard in years would whisper from deep inside of him: Black will think you're a coward; You promised; Harry's feelings might be hurt.

If they hadn't had that vision, things would have stayed the same. Severus never would have gotten Black out of Azkaban. He never would have seen Pauline. He never would have reached out to hug Potter. Most importantly, he never would have seen what could have been. He didn't know what to do, how to act. Not around Potter, not around anyone. It was bad enough that Harry had seen the soft, loyal, compassionate side of Snape, but what was worse was that Severus himself had felt happiness, loyalty and love.

It was like smoking a cigarette after ceasing for 10 years. His heart, which for the last 10 years had done nothing more than beat, now yearned. No matter how much Severus tried to deny it, and he had long ago learned the art of self-denial, he couldn't help but crave that happiness again.

Severus had to make a decision: go or not go. It was well known that Harry's Aunt and Uncle were cool towards him, the boy needed some companionship, some kindness from an adult and Severus had promised Harry "it would be ok". That meant following through on the promise he had made to spend Christmas with the child.

He put the quill down, squared his shoulders and stepped to the fireplace.

"19 Pike Avenue," he said firmly. He tumbled from fireplace to fireplace, the journey doing nothing for his nerves. His feet landed hard in Black's fireplace.

There was a small, but comfortable living room with an old-fashioned green couch and two matching chairs. The living room was bare of decoration but for a Nimbus 2000 that lay against the window and, oddly enough, a flatscreen television that was fixed to the wall. Aside from the roaring fireplace and gas lamps, the living room was empty. There were no sounds of life.

"Black?" Severus called, drawing his wand. The kitchen was empty as well. There were a few dishes and pizza boxes - after years in Azkaban, Severus supposed Black's culinary skills weren't exactly well developed. A kettle sat on the stove, still warm to Severus' touch.

A niggling sense of fear started to brew in his gut. Something was wrong. It was too quiet. There was a loud shriek from the yard and Severus jumped and ran to the window, his wand at the ready.

Harry was cowering behind a tree, howling with laughter as Sirius tried to aim a snowball at him. Quickly, Harry gathered up his own ball of snow and hurled it back at Sirius, who, with a flick of his wand turned it back on Harry's face.

"Hey! No fair!" Harry said, laughing as he brushed the snow off of his face. "No magic!"

"That was a cheap shot," Sirius conceded, not looking the least bit apologetic. Before Sirius could turn, Harry thunked him with another snowball right in middle of the head.

"Oh you are going to pay for that!" Sirius said, chasing Harry across the yard. Both gasped with laughter. They looked different. Severus recognized the changes instantly even though it had only been days since he had seen them.

Harry's clothes were new and they fit him properly. The darkness that had so surrounded Sirius days ago seemed to have lifted, and his face was fuller and healthier.

"We should have a snowball fight on our brooms!" Harry said gasping for breath, still at that age where naked child-like enthusiasm shone threw in unguarded moments.

"That sounds awesome," Sirius said, before smoking Harry in the face with a snowball. "I'm totally going to kick your butt."

"You are not!" Harry yipped, charging up the steps to the kitchen door. He burst into get the brooms, his face flushed with joy and exhilaration. He never noticed the wisps of green smoke hovering over the fireplace logs.

Back at Hogwarts, Severus stepped out of his fireplace into his dungeons. Harry's laughter still ringing in his ears. It no longer made sense to Severus, why he had gone there in the first place. What had he been expecting? Obviously and reasonably Harry preferred the company of his gregarious, funny Godfather. Severus had nothing to offer the boy,. Even if he did, if he had continued to establish a connection with Harry, he would eventually have to explain to the boy why his parents had died.

Harry did not deserve that. Let him be loved. Let him have some to laugh with. Let him have his Godfather. Sirius was clearly more equipped, more willing, to provide what Harry needed anyways. The best way to remain loyal to Lily was for Severus to step away now. Treat the boy more cordially in the future perhaps, but remain on the outskirts.

He walked back to the table and grabbed the quill and sheet of parchment.

Black,

Can't make dinner. Apologies for the late notice.

Snape.

Severus walked to the owlry and gave the parchment to a squat barn owl. By the time he did so, he no longer even believed he was making a sacrifice on Harry's behalf. It wasn't as though he wanted to provide Harry with anything. The owl flew away and with a sweep of his robes, Severus returned to the dungeons.

Hours later, Black had written him back a surprisingly polite letter saying that he was sorry Severus couldn't make it and wishing him well. A day latter, Black had written him asking if he wanted to go for a drink. Severus had raised his eyebrows and thrown the parchment in the fire with no response.

On the day of New Years Eve, he had received another letter in Sirius' tidy cursive.

Severus,

Harry, Remus and I are going to go to check out the fireworks show in London. We'll be port-keying to Kings Cross at 6. You're welcome to join us.

Best,
Black

ps. I know Harry would like to see you.

It was two sentences, three if you counted the guilt-inducing post-script, but Severus kept reading it over and over again. Why would Sirius make this more difficult? Wasn't he happy to have access to Harry unencumbered? Did he need to rub it in Severus' face for some reason? He ground his teeth together, and crumpled up the letter. If he had thought to look up, he'd have noticed the cloying look of sympathy and disapproval on Dumbledore's face as he observed Severus vanish the letter with his wand.

Severus got up from the table without finishing his meal and headed back down to the dungeons. He didn't know what to do or how to act now. Working out the conflicting feelings was just too much for him.

As Severus was undergoing his crisis of conscience, Harry Potter was happily trotting up the walk towards Hogwarts, completely devoid of any internal conflict.

Christmas with Sirius had been absolutely brilliant. His Godfather had insisted on buying him all new clothes. Despite Harry's protestations, he now had a trunk full of clean, well-fitting, fashionable clothes: thick sweaters, fresh socks and jeans that, for the first time, were not frayed at the bottoms. He had never been particularly vain, but it was nicer than he expected to have clothes that weren't three sizes too big and that looked good.

After the clothes had all been bought - and Sirius did not let Harry spend a Knut of his own money - they had gotten huge ice cream cones and had enjoyed eating them while walking through the snow.

Sirius' Hogsmeade apartment was small and undecorated, his parents had used it for weekend shopping, and Sirius had lived there during the war. Since there was only one bedroom Harry, after some argument from Sirius, had taken the couch. Sirius promised that they'd have another place by summer, and that had been the best part of the entire trip. Not that Harry minded about the small apartment, he would of spent all of next summer on the couch without a word of complaint. It was the fact that Sirius was already making arrangements and plans for summer that included Harry. He wouldn't have to return to the Dursley's! The thought filled Harry with such joy that he wanted to combust with happiness.

Then there was Christmas. For the first time ever, Harry had awoken to a stocking filled to the brim with oranges, chocolates, biscuits and sweets he had never even heard of. As if that wasn't enough, Sirius had also gotten him complete working model of the Cork Crusaders Quidditch side, admitting with slight disapproval it had always been Harry's father's favourite team (Sirius preferred the Pride of Portree), a book entitled Quick Quidditch Tips which Harry found immensely useful, a leather bound sketchbook with a full set of sketching pencils and a book entitled Drawing for Dunces . Harry had looked up a little curiously at this gift, and Sirius had scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"I didn't just want to get you Quidditch stuff, but I didn't really know what else you were into," Sirius had explained. "Your mother - she loved to draw - I thought maybe…" Sirius trailed off and scratched his neck again. Harry wondered if the nervous habit was a hold-over from his days as a dog.

"It's great," Harry had said genuinely, filing away the piece of information about his mother and vaguely wondering if maybe he'd be a good drawer. The Dursleys had never taken him or Dudley to art class. Uncle Vernon firmly believed art was for pansies.

"Thank you," Harry said softly, looking at all his presents. "Thank you for all of this."

It wouldn't have mattered if Sirius did not have a sickle to spend on Christmas presents. It was more than enough to just spend Christmas with someone who wanted to spend time with him. Too embarrassed to say that, Harry shyly took out an elaborately wrapped present from behind the couch.

"What's this?" Sirius has asked as Harry pushed it towards him.

"It's for you," Harry said. He had snuck off for it when Sirius had gone Christmas shopping. Sirius' mouth rounded in surprise.

"You didn't have to do that, kiddo," Sirius said, taking the heavy box. Harry flushed, trying not grin like he always did when Sirius called him kiddo. Sirius unwrapped a complete set of Quidditch balls: Quaffle, Bludgers, a Snitch and beaters' bats. Sirius stared at it in shock for a minute.

"You said yours went missing after Azkaban," Harry said, blushing. The set had been expensive, but he wanted to show Sirius how much this vacation had meant to him.

"This is wonderful, Harry. Thank you," Sirius said, sounding a little choked up. Harry must have imagined it, because Sirius' eyes were dry when he smiled at Harry. "What do you say we give it a go?"

So he and Sirius had spent the rest of the day in the fields surrounding Hogsmeade tossing the Quaffle and racing for the snitch. It was almost better than playing for Gryffindor.

They played Quidditch nearly every day after that, and Harry met Remus, another friend of his parents. He looked older than Sirius, which was odd because Azkaban had put so many years on Sirius' handsome face. Despite his age, his eyes were warm and kind, and when he hugged Sirius both of their eyes had filed with tears. It must be hard, Harry thought, to have thought your friend was guilty of killing your other friend for 10 years.

When Remus turned to Harry, his eyes did not flicker to his scar like everyone else's did. He looked him straight in the eyes.

"I hear you are quite the Quidditch player," Remus said with a grin. Harry grinned back, liking him immediately.

For New Years, they had all gone to London to watch the fireworks explode over Big Ben. They had scooped up the last few seats at an ice cream parlour and as the red, green, and white sparks exploded across the sky at midnight, it felt like a new beginning. As if Sirius had read Harry's mind at that moment, he had slid his arm around the back of his chair and kissed Harry lightly on the temple.

"Happy New Year, kiddo," he said, and for some reason, it made Harry want to cry. No one had ever kissed him before. In fact, no one had ever wished him a Happy New Year before. He did not want to get emotional and ruin the night, so he swallowed down the ball in his throat, took a bite of his chocolate-chip ice cream and smiled.

The only downside was that Snape hadn't come to Christmas or New Years. Harry had hoped that Snape might have written him or at least check on him to make sure he was recovering from the Ghangzou. Harry thought they had left on good terms, and had almost felt a little hurt when the barn owl had dropped off Snape's curt note saying he couldn't come to dinner.

"It's alright," Sirius had said, noticing Harry's face had fallen. "I'm sure he's just busy, or tired. He had a lot more of that venom than you. It'll wipe you right out." Harry had nodded with a smile and resolved not to worry about Snape for the rest of vacation. He had Sirius, expecting Snape seemed selfish, and what would Snape want with him anyways?

"You ok?" Sirius asked, jerking Harry out of his reverie. Harry nodded, pushing away all thoughts of Snape as they climbed the steps to Hogwarts. He felt a twinge of disappointment that Christmas Holidays were ending. Of course, he was excited to see Hermione and Ron and tell them everything that had happened over break, but he had enjoyed spending time with Sirius, and he childishly wanted to have more time with his Godfather.

"This place hasn't changed a bit," muttered Sirius with a smile as his eyes roamed hungrily over the wealth of moving pictures on the wall as they walked towards the Gryffindor common room. Sirius had wanted to see the old Gryffindor dormitories and couldn't stop grinning at the Hogwarts sites.

"This place hasn't changed a bit," muttered Sirius with a smile as his eyes roamed hungrily over the wealth of moving pictures on the wall as they walked towards the Gryffindor common room. They stopped outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Harry blanched.

"Fairy Lights?" he asked hopefully, going for the password he had heard before Christmas. The Fat Lady swung forward, and Harry turned to Sirius with a relieved sigh.

"I thought she might have changed it," Harry muttered, but Sirius wasn't really listening to Harry, he was looking around the common room with a deep, nostalgic look Harry was too young to fully appreciate.

"Exactly the same," he muttered again, smiling at Harry. and levitating his trunk up the boys stairwell to their cozy, round dorm. He settled the trunk at the foot of the bed Harry indicated, and they both sat down, a little unwilling to say goodbye.

"Snape's in the dungeons, if you want to see him," Harry said. It was odd to Harry that Snape had been such good friends with James and all the Gryffindors but that neither he nor Sirius seemed all that willing to talk about it. An odd look flashed across Sirius face and he cleared his throat.

"Oh no. I imagine he's getting ready for class tomorrow. I wouldn't want to disturb him," Sirius said. He hesitated for a moment.

"Harry, about Professor Snape…" Sirius trailed off, looking uncomfortable and uncertain of where to begin. "What happened over Christmas, with the Ghangzou…he is quite a private man, Harry, don't go telling everyone what you saw. He won't thank you for that." Harry nodded. He understood Snape to wanting people to know about the Ghangzou. It was an odd feeling, to have lived two different lives, and it was personal.

"I won't," Harry promised, still feeling like Sirius wasn't tell him everything. Sirius grinned and ruffled his hair.

"Alright. I should head off. I just want a word with Dumbledore," he said. "I'll see you at Easter. Perhaps before, I'll try and make it to one of your Quidditch matches." Harry nodded, feeling a little anxious as Sirius got up to go.
"Sirius," Harry had quickly, before he lost his nerve. "Would you - Do you think maybe - if you want you - could you maybe write to me? Like not all the time or anything just…" Harry trailed off, feeling incredibly stupid as he looked to the ground.

Suddenly, Sirius' knee was in his eye line. Sirius had knelt down in front of him.

"Harry," he said kindly. Harry raised his eyes to look into Sirius'. "I'll write every day."

"You don't -"

"You don't have to respond every day, or at all, but you can expect a letter every day," Sirius said firmly. Before he could stop himself, Harry threw his arms around Sirius' neck. Sirius hugged him back tightly and kissed the top of his head.

"Alright, talk to you later, kiddo," Sirius said getting to his feet. "And be good, but not you know, too good." With that, he winked at Harry and headed down the stairs. Harry lay back on his bed and beamed.

Sirius hesitated at the stone gargoyle, swallowed thickly, took a deep breath.

"Lemon Drops," he said, with as much bravado as he dared, feeling closer to 12 than 32. The Gargoyle swooped down, allowing him to ascend a wooden, rotating staircase to Dumbledore's magnificent office. It was almost the same as Sirius remembered: the sleeping, former headmasters, odd objects, bowls of candy and Dumbledore, who stepped across his office with a smile.

"Sirius! So good to see you my boy. Come, have a seat," he said enthusiastically. Sirius felt a twinge of uncertainty as he did so.

"Care for a holiday drink?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he held up a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey. Sirius' raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Uh-"

"Now Sirius, we are no longer Headmaster and student. You are a man now," Dumbledore said, pouring him a drink and sitting down on the other visitor's chair. Hesitantly, Sirius took a drink of fire whiskey.

"I want guardianship," Sirius said, tearing the band-aid off before he could get too nervous. Dumbledore's smile widened.

"I thought you might," he said. "And I have seen you with him, Sirius. James, Lily, they would be so proud, so thankful to you." Sirius felt his cheeks go red, but any pride was swallowed by guilt.

"They'd be more thankful if I had raised him from the start,' Sirius said, looking up at Dumbledore. "Did you see his clothing? I didn't even give those clothes he had to the Goodwill."

"His childhood was less than ideal," Dumbledore admitted with a sigh. "Lily's sister…" Sirius growled, feel a hot, swoop of rage.
"Broke Lily's heart. She always thought it was her fault. Jealous cow," Sirius snarled. "Petunia that is - not Lily." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Why Petunia?" Sirius said finally, trying to keep his tone non-confrontational. "Why not any number of families? Remus said he asked the moment Wolfsbane was made available. Harry was only five then." Dumbledore sighed and rested his head on his hands.

"When Harry was a baby, there was the very real concern, that the wrong family would want him for the wrong reasons," Dumbledore said. "An obstacle I should have easily circumvented knowing Lily and James' true friends well, but at the time I admit I was shaken in my own abilities to tell good from evil. Your supposed betrayal of James and Lily was such a shock. If I couldn't trust you…" Dumbledore trailed off.

"Then of course, there were the blood wards. Lily's sacrifice allowed Petunia to give Harry incredible protection, and Deatheaters of course were still after him," Dumbledore said. "After the attack on the Longbottoms, it became very clear to me that however much I valued Harry's happiness, if I wanted him to survive his childhood, I had to place a premium on his safety and nothing was as powerful as those blood wards." Dumbledore sighed and looked down at his hands, looking a hundred years old.

"I went to check-in on Harry. I had relied on Arabella Figg until then, but - well - you know how Remus is with children. If I was going to deny Harry that, I needed to see for myself," Dumbledore continued. "I suppose I was hoping that I would find Harry doted on by his Aunt and Uncle. I hoped to be able to say to Remus that it would be cruel to ask a woman to raise her sister's child, have her love him, then take that child away."

"I had promised Petunia I would not be dropping in with wizards. She didn't like magic, you see," Dumbledore continued in a voice so low Sirius had to lean in to hear. "I slipped in at night invisible. It was dinner-time. The family was seated at dinner - and by the family I mean Dudley, Petunia and Vernon. Harry was nowhere to be seen. I figured he was ill or perhaps with a friend. I cast a hominum revelio charm just to be sure." Dumbledore stopped and took a drink.

"I found him in this tiny cupboard under the stairs. I opened it. He was playing quietly with a broken soldier, I believe I frightened him. He just stared at me with those eyes," Dumbledore said softly. "There was an apple core and a half-eaten slice of cheese on the table: his dinner. It seems that his accidental magic had turned the family against him. "

Dumbledore stopped again, and Sirius closed his eyes. He remembered so clearly the day James and Lily had brought Harry home from the hospital.

"He looks just like my Dad," James said. He was holding the baby a little rigidly, as though he was scared to drop him. Sirius looked over at the sleeping baby. The black hair and chubby cheeks looked nothing like Harry Potter, but James was still stinging from losing his father 8 months earlier.

"We're naming him Harry, after him" James said softly, smiling down at the baby. Sirius had never seen that look in James' eyes, not even when he looked at Lily. Then there was a little fear.

"Merlin, he is so tiny," James whispered, holding Harry closer to his chest.

"Prongs," Sirius said gently. "We're going to keep him safe. He's going to be alright, ok?" James smiled, believing him.

The thought of James and Lily's child, hungry in a cupboard gave Sirius a jolt to the stomach. If his parents had lived - if his Godfather hadn't been so stupid - he never would have wanted for food, for comfort.

"I stepped into his little cupboard, I cleaned it, put charms on the cleaning products so he couldn't get into them. Then he asked me - he asked me if I was an angel," Dumbledore said with a laugh.

"So I fixed his little soldier, took him in my lap and I told him the story of Babbity Rabbity and he fell asleep right there against my chest, and I thought: I could walk out of here and give this sweet, little boy to someone who would move mountains to keep him happy. But he was fed and he was safe."

"Remus is a strong wizard, but he would be no competition for Voldemort. And I suppose the tiniest part of me did not think that you betraying James made sense. What if Remus was somehow at fault? I just wanted him to be safe. I tucked Harry in, and I came back. I told Remus that the boy was safe, happy, that it would cruel to take him from his Aunt after five years. And Remus, being the good man that he is, broke his own heart and stepped aside thinking that he was giving Harry a Mother and a Father, that the child would not have to be shamed by his association with a werewolf. And Harry grew, safe but unloved, ill-treated, lonely and sad. Did I make the right decision? To this day I do not know."

Dumbledore stopped speaking and hung his head, as though he was waiting for Sirius' verdict. Had Dumbledore made a mistake? Sirius was , Sirius reached over and touched Dumbledore's wrinkled hand.

"You did your best. You did your best with an impossible situation," Sirius said. Dumbledore looked up, tears shining in his eyes. Sirius thought that petty emotion was something that Dumbledore was above. Dumbledore turned his wrinkled hand to grasp Sirius' scarred one.

"I am so sorry. So sorry I did not uncover the truth," Dumbledore whispered fiercely. "You have suffered so much, in ways you never deserved." Sirius looked up into Dumbledore's fierce blue eyes, feeling a little taken aback at the intimacy.

"If you and Harry can find some happiness together, perhaps some of my mistakes will fade," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"You aren't responsible for everyone and everything," Sirius said after a moment, feeling the need to offer some form of comfort to his old Headmaster. "You're only human. If you need my forgiveness, you have it, but this mess…this has always been my fault." Dumbledore smiled, then straightened up, his old wisdom and majesty falling back over him.

"My only stipulation to guardianship is this," Dumbledore said gently. "Grimmauld Place. The wards there are not blood wards, but between them and you, considering Voldemort has shown no signs of returning, I am certain Harry will be safe."

It was a stipulation Sirius had known in his heart. When he had told Harry of a bigger house, he had been speaking of Grimmauld Place, his birthright. Still, whenever he thought of that house, he could only recall the way his nose felt when it broke against concrete steps, the hatred in his mother's eyes when she had burned him off of the family tapestry, the smell of blood when his father had slammed his head into the doorframe. He shook off those memories.

"Yes, sir," he whispered. He'd go back for Harry. He'd go anywhere for Harry.

"It is your family home now, Sirius," Dumbledore said gently after a moment. "It can be whatever you want it to be." Sirius swallowed and nodded, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes.

"As to guardianship, I will see to the paperwork. Harry knows?" Dumbledore asked.

"I wanted to be sure." Sirius replied. Dumbledore nodded.

"Well, I'm sure his consent won't be an issue," said Dumbledore. "But before you leave, I do have one request." Sirius raised his eyebrows. Dumbledore had just given him Harry. Sirius was willing to do almost anything.

"Severus." Ah.

"I have tried," Sirius said, a little indignantly. He had written letter-after-letter to the man that he frankly didn't care at all for because it had seemed the right thing to do, because a fake James and a fake Lily had fake loved him, and because Sirius had felt so terrible after seeing the stark difference between the two Snapes.

"You have. You have acted with more poise and maturity then I frankly believed you would," Dumbledore said. "All I ask is that you don't stop trying."

"I have some pride," Sirius said indignantly.

"Forget pride," Dumbledore said sharply. "Pride is the worst emotion. It is the mother of shame and the father of fear. Pride is not self-respect. Pride is ego. James Potter's greatest virtue when he grew into a man, was that he was never proud. He would have called Lily every day for a date if he had to."

Sirius squirmed in his chair.

"I am not James," he said softly after a moment. He always knew who the better man was. Dumbledore's eyes softened.

"No. You are you. You are a compassionate, strong, brave man. I am asking you to brave Severus' rejection and vitriol a little longer. You have braved much worse," Dumbledore said softly, a little smile on his face.

Sirius took a deep breath, he usually was happy to agree with whatever Dumbledore suggested, but somehow, instead of yes what came out was "Why?"

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment and Sirius had the distinct impression Dumbledore was sizing him up, determining what buttons to push.

"Severus and you are not that different. Imagine what you would have been like without James' kindness? Without Harry and Catherine Potter?" Dumbledore asked finally. Sirius looked down at his hands.

A furious 16-year old Sirius yanked his trunk out of the back of the Muggle Taxi. He had just left, just walked out. Blood poured out of his nose, his eye was black and in his minds eye all he saw was his mother, swollen with rage, blasting him off of the tapestry.

The Potters' large mansion stood, like a beacon in the night ahead of him. He had paid a cab 235 pounds to take him from London to the Potters' house, and now he just stood, uncertain as it peeled away. The door swung open.

Catherine Potter, short and thin, her black hair streaked with grey came running out of the balcony with her bunny slippers on. Harry, severe-looking with his square-jaw and brush-cut, followed her, and James, confused and gangly, followed him.

"Sirius, honey," Catherine said nearly skidding to a stop in front of him. She took in his face in her hands and opened her mouth, as though we was going to ask him what was wrong, then closed it again.

"I'm - I"m sorry I'm here so late," whispered Sirius, remembering it was almost midnight. Catherine blinked at him, then smiled.

"You're welcome here any time," she said. "Let's go in the house, ok, love? James, put on some tea. Harry, dear, grab Sirius' trunk." James gave Sirius a quick smile and flit back towards the house.

"Oh, I got it," Sirius said quickly, reaching down to pick it up.

"I got it, son," Harry said, picking up the heavy trunk with surprising vitality.

"Could I - would I be able to stay here tonight?" whispered Sirius, feeing incredibly stupid and uncertain. "I - I can call my Uncle tomorrow and -"

"Honey," Catherine said firmly, cutting him off. "Honey, you can stay here for as long as you want, ok?" Sirius' throat felt thick and heavy as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling pathetic as she led him towards the house.

"Shhhh, don't be sorry, love," she said, adopting a gentle tone she had never used with him before, her hand started to rub circles on his back as they walked into the house. "Everything is going to be fine. We've got everything you need. The guest bedroom is set up, there's a toothbrush, fresh towels…" She continued, her voice almost like a lullaby.

She walked him across the cheerful entrance to the living room couch even though he was dirty and bloody. She knelt down in front of him and smiled, her hazel eyes kind.

"We are so glad you thought to come here," she said, cupping his cheek with her cool hand. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him in as long as he could remember, and even though James and Harry were standing at the other end of the living room, a tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another.

"Oh honey," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him without a hint of hesitation or awkwardness, holding him like his own mother never had. His own mother had just kicked him out of the family. Catherine's arms were warm, and the gentle thumb running across the back of his neck seemed to promise security.

"She blasted me off," Sirius found himself saying into Catherine's shoulder. "I can't go back there." Later, Sirius would realize that those sentences barely made sense.

"That's alright," Harry said. Sirius hadn't even realized he had come to sit beside him on the couch. "That's alright, you have a home and a family here. It's going to be ok."

Where he would Sirius be if Catherine and Harry hadn't taken him in so easily? Sirius had no idea.

"How many times did Catherine and Harry tell you that you were welcome in their home? How many times did James have to beg you to stay with him until you took him up on it?" Dumbledore asked kindly. Sirius swallowed thickly, missing Catherine and Harry deeply all of the sudden.

"I am asking you to do for Severus what James did for you. Keep offering. Keep extending the hand."

"I'm not sure I'm the right person for that job," Sirius said, running a hand through his hair. "I mean after Azkaban I'm - I feel like I'm barely keeping it together, and I need to keep it together for Harry." Sirius looked desperately up at Dumbledore, who looked at him with deep understanding, the typical indulgent twinkle had dulled to a look of deep understanding. Sirius looked down at as lap.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said softly. "Sirius, you are doing a wonderful job, and I do not believe extending Severus friendship and compassion will be the weighty task you are making it out to be."

Sirius quirked his lips at that. It seemed easier to befriend a Hungarian Horntail. Dumbledore smiled back at him, as though reading his mind.

"In fact, it might even benefit you as much as him. I'd also consider it a personal favour," said Dumbledore after a moment."Now, you don't owe me any favours, but maybe this is one favour you owe Severus."

Severus looked up from his hands. Unwelcome intrusive memories flirt into his mind: laughing with James as Severus fell down the stairs, taunting the awkward, rapidly angering teenager with horrible names. Sirius and James had been so arrogant, and Severus with his pale skin, weird obsession with the Dark Arts and his complete isolation had been the perfect target for all their adolescent anger and petty insecurities.

"Alright," Sirius muttered. "I'll do it."

The conversation turned more benign, Christmas, the Ministry, books and soon Sirius excused himself and turned down the hallways to lead himself out of the school building. It was odd being back. He could almost see the ghosts of his former self, James, Remus and Peter running through the hallways, so sure that their futures would be bright.

He thought of Catherine and Harry Potter, they both had been more than kind to him. They had taken him into their family with no reservation. Harry had talked to him sternly about girls and respect and safe sex. Catherine had thrown him a 16th birthday party, complete with a new watch and all his favourite foods. They had taken on the responsibility of being parents to an angry, 15-year old, just because he had needed them.

How did the grandchild of Catherine and Harry - the child of Lily and James - end up neglected in a cupboard when he was born to a family who had been willing to love whomever needed it? Sirius stopped outside the Gryffindor common room. He had never been able to pay the Potter family back for what they had done for him. This was his change, and there was no way he was going to screw it up.

"Fairy Lights," he said to the Fat Lady, who swung forward boredly. Two students who had newly arrived were playing Exploding Snap by the fire gave him an odd sort of look. He smiled at them and trotted up the dormitory stairs to find Harry stretched on his bed in his new jeans fixedly sketching in his journal. His tongue poked out of his mouth a little in concentration.

"Whatch'ya drawing?" Sirius asked, leaning on the doorframe. Harry jumped, a little started, then beamed at him with that wide open smile that, despite all knowledge to the contrary, made the world seem to Sirius to be a good and fair place.

"I'm trying one of the still life exercises. I'm not very good," Harry said sliding off of his bed.

"It'll come with practice," said Sirius. Harry looked at him expectantly, and Sirius reached forward and hugged him.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," Sirius said tightening his arms. "I love you." It was the first time he had said it to Harry, and Sirius had a horrible idea that it might have been the first time the boy heard it at all.

"Love you too," Harry whispered after a moment. Sirius pulled back and smiled at Harry who now looked pale and was looking up at Sirius with no small amount of wonder and confusion. It wouldn't take away 11 years of not hearing it, but it was a start.

"We'll talk soon, kiddo," Sirius said descending the stairs. Azkaban had left a deep hole in his heart and soul, but for the first time in 11 years, something felt right. He had Harry.

XXXXXXX

An hour later Ron and Hermione returned from the Hogwarts express They had been up most of the night as Harry had recounted his Christmas. He left out the mushy stuff: how it had felt when his Dad had held him, the way the smell of his Mother's perfume gave him a feeling of home he had never had before, how Snape had comforted him when he cried, and how his heart leapt when Sirius had told him that he loved him. He did tell them the rest though, and they had gasped with shock at all the right places.

Ron wasn't truly horrified until Harry told him that Snape has been almost like a second father in his Ghangzou world.

"But he's Snape," Ron had said. "How could you parents be friends with him? How could anybody?"

"He was different," Harry said. "He was nice and funny and he -" he was about to say that Snape loved him, but stopped himself short.

"He was friends with my parents, I think when they died it kind of screwed him up," Harry explained lowly.

"So he became bitter and angry," Hermione said, as though it all made sense. "That's really sad." Ron didn't agree verbally, but there was something that looked a bit like sympathy on his face.

"Do you think he'll be different now? In class?" Ron had asked. Harry shrugged, like it was no big deal even though he himself had been mulling that same question over.. He had no idea what to expect from Snape, he wasn't sure anyone did. Harry picked at at a spare piece of thread on Ron's duvet.

Harry wanted things to be different. At the very least it would be nice not be yelled at. At the most - well - it was hard to forget how kind Snape had been in the Ghangzou world, that he had loved Harry, that he had been family.

Harry's concerns weren't at all assuaged upon entering the Great Hall the next morning. Snape, wearing the same black robes and scowl, sat at Dumbledores right, reading the newspaper, looking like nothing had changed. If he felt Harry's gaze, he didn't show it, nor did he look up. It made Harry's gut tighten with apprehension.

"Kippers?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded and accepted the plate though he didn't feel very hungry. Potions was their third class. Were he and Snape going to go back to hating each other?

Ron managed to coax him into a conversation about Quidditch - Harry was much more informed after reading his book from Sirius - and though Ron grumbled a bit about Harry preferring the Cork Crusaders to the Chuddley Cannons, he let it go gracefully enough.
"They'e cocky, Cork is," Ron said. "And their rough, last season Kleevis McMulch got suspended for breaking his beater's bat of Seamus Doogon's head." Harry was about to respond when the owls swooped in with the morning post. In his concern about Snape, Harry had almost forgotten about Sirius' promise to write him and eagerly looked skyward. Hedwig who had become particularly fond of Sirius and who hadn't returned from hunting in time to head up to the school with Harry swooped towards him, a roll of parchment in her talons.

She settled beside his plate and stuck out her leg.

"Thanks, Hedwig!" Harry said, eagerly undoing the roll.

Harry,

I hope you are excited for classes to start up again and to see Ron and Hermione. It's been too quiet here without you, but I'm going to start fixing up our summer accommodation (yes, it is going to take about four months)! Miss you.

Love,
Sirius

It wasn't a long letter, but then again they had spoken mere hours ago, and the tidy cursive still made Harry smile. Thoughts of Snape faded into the background as he folded up the parchment and placed it in his pocket and walked out to Herbology.

Severus had felt Harry's gaze the moment the boy had entered the Great Hall. He always had been keenly aware of his surroundings, even more so where Harry Potter was concerned. Severus hadn't known what to do - was he supposed to wave? nod? It was easier to keep his head down and not acknowledge Harry at all.

That didn't mean he wasn't thinking about Harry though, and like Harry, he was anxiously awaiting Potions class. This was the first time since the Ghangzou he'd be interacting with the students. He was going to keep acting the same or be different. It was like approaching a fork in the road and Severus still didn't know which route he wanted.

A few hours later, Harry walked in, flanked by both Ron and Hermione who both threw him uncertain looks as they entered. Wonderful, Severus thought, Harry told. Briefly, Harry's brilliant green eyes, met Severus'. They reminded Severus of the first time Harry looked at him months earlier: wariness, curiosity, but underneath it all there was a vulnerability and hopefulness on his face.

Suddenly, Severus wasn't scared for himself anymore. He was scared of that look on Harry's face. With a sentence or two - a word considering Severus' verbal alacrity - he could completely destroy Harry. There was no way Severus was ready for that level of responsibility. Severus looked away from Harry's expectant gaze and turned to the board.

"Alright," he said. "Settle down. Let's get started."

"Hey Longbottom…catch!" Draco hissed almost the moment Severus' back was turned. Severus did not have the time to turn around before he heard Neville howl in pain. Draco had thrown several quills from a flaming Hedgehog at Neville. The quills remained hot after they were harvested and, sure enough Neville was staring at his hands, wincing.

"Stupid baby!" Draco said with a laugh.

Severus walked over to Draco's desk, looming over him.

"50 points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "If you ever flick so much as a beetle eye in this classroom, I will kick you out of this school so fast you will be lucky to get a job serving chilli at the Hog's Head pub."

Draco's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his jaw drop. Severus had only scolded him once before, and it had been a gentle chastising in private. The boy dropped his eyes to stare at the desk.

"All of you, get back to work," he said, angry he had just taken points from his own house. He walked over to where Neville was still nursing his hands, not daring to look up at Snape.

"Longbottom, come here," Snape ordered. Neville got out of his seat and slowly walked over to Severus, his shoulders hunched in defeat. There was something about the walk that hit Severus the wrong way and he frowned at the child, trying to figure out what it was. Then he realized what it was. Neville was walking towards Severus the way Severus walked towards his father when his father had taken the belt off and was fixing to whip him. Surely, Severus hadn't been that bad.

"Longbottom, next time perhaps it would be better not to mindlessly catch whatever is thrown at you," Severus said, pulling a small jar of burn salve out of his desk drawer. The boy flushed further, and nodded at the floor.

"Yes, sir," he whispered. For the first time, Neville raised his eyes to meet Severus'. His brown eyes were red-rimmed and moist. For some reason, that made Severus' gut clench.

"Show me your hands," Severus said. Burns from a flaming hedgehog quills were more annoying than anything and the shaking fingers, Neville extended towards him were only slightly red. Severus smoothed some of the cream on Neville's hand.

"Listening to children like Malfoy will do nothing for you," Severus said, almost taking himself by surprise. Neville blinked at him in surprise then nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said. Severus wrapped a small piece of gauze around the boy's pudgy hand.

"Alright, go sit down," Severus said. Neville walked back to his seat. Severus could feel both Harry and Draco looking at him curiously. Cursing the stupid Ghangzou, he refused to look up at either of the two boys, and instead settled on drafting tomorrow's lesson with a scowl on his face.

Despite cursing the Ghangzou, there had been something satisfying in protecting Neville. It was even more satisfying the next class when Severus was able to talk Neville through successfully completing a Super Throat Soother solution. Severus, in his way, had inspired a few students before. Those students were almost all Slytherins or Ravenclaws with a strong, natural inclination towards Potions. He was able to enrich the talented, but he had never successfully cultivated talent before. It was oddly satisfying.

So he continued to try it out over the next few weeks, being kinder to the students, like dipping his toe in the water. Soon the students were looking at him oddly, then some of the staff and then people started being nicer to him. Hagrid had waved at him the other day. It was all very odd.

He hadn't tried this out with Harry though, that was much to petrifying. He hadn't meant to ignore Harry completely, but after ignoring him for that first class, it became easier to ignore him, and harder to speak to him. The weeks went by without the two of them so much as making eye contact. The only person who thought anything changed between Severus and Harry was Sirius.

Once or twice a week, after Sirius' owl dropped off a daily missive at Harry's plate, it would swoop to Severus' table with a roll of parchment. They were always the same, casual invitations for tea or beers, as though Severus and Sirius truly were old school friends. Severus assumed that Sirius was only doing this because of Harry.

No letter hinted at the fact Sirius had not received a response, and Severus had an ominous feeling they were going to continue. As if reading his mind, the bird swooped towards him, landed by his pumpkin juice and stuck out his leg. Snape glared at it.

"Is he not getting the message?" he snapped, untying the letter when the bird hopped closer and clicked its beak in disapproval.

Snape,

Hope all is well. Remus is coming into town on Friday. Want join us for a drink?

Best,
Sirius

ps. You wouldn't happen to know of a potion that could remove a Permanent Sticking Charm, do you? My mother's portrait is driving me 'round the bend. Plus, I have some very ill-advised pictures of bikini-clad woman on the walls I'd rather Harry not see.

Before he could stop himself, Severus snorted, then turned thoughtful. There was an incredibly dangerous, acidic potion that he had heard of once. Without really thinking about it, he turned over the parchment and grabbed a quill out of his pocket.

I believe Acetox - contains powdered bison horn. I will have to look into it further.

Severus was about to write: so be careful but reconsidered.

"Owl, here," he said, to the bird who had decided to sniff around the bacon when he saw Severus reply. He tied the note to the bird's leg and watched as it soared out of the Great Hall. As it turned he frowned, and looked at the table, realizing that he had just replied to Black. If he had kept his head up, he would have noticed Harry looking at him curiously from the Gryffindor table. Still thinking about Acetox, Severus left head table.

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