Severus twisted so the small child was shielded from the prison escapee. "Black," he said slowly, his grip on the child little more than an animalistic sheltering of his offspring. Panic was coursing through his veins, and any bargains he could hope to make with the deranged mutt eluded him.

"Release the boy, Snivellus," Sirius snarled, his eyes holding an insane light not present in his years at Hogwarts. "I do not care what your dark plans are for him. I will not hesitate to kill you."

Severus pulled on his magical reserves, preparing to perform wandless magic his body was ill-equipped for. Though he was well-trained in wandless magic, apparating both himself and Harry through Hogwarts's many wards was likely to kill him. For a child he never wanted, he thought ironically.

"No!" Harry suddenly shrieked.

Severus was shocked to discover that the magic he had been pulling forth was suddenly tightly bound inside his body. "Foolish boy!" he snarled.

Sirius's eyes widened when Severus abandoned thoughts of magic and full-bodied attacked him. Harry landed safely on a cushion on a nearby sofa but fell forward and hit his head on a decorative statue. Severus groaned in almost physical pain when he felt rather than heard his wand snap.

"You're not going to get him, Snape!" Sirius swung at the Potion Master, but the force behind the punch did not hold the same brunt from his boyhood.

Severus took the blow with little reaction, though his jaw did smart. "I will get you back into that ruddy cell if it's the last thing I do, Black!" His punch landed squarely, breaking the git's nose.

Sirius's head bounced back onto the floor. He covered his face. "I'm his godfather, Snape! I will protect him at all costs!"

Severus jerked his knee over Sirius's just in time to prevent the blow to his groin. "Protection? You're even madder than I thought, Black!" His fists landed solidly one after another. "You will not harm the boy! Never—hurt—him—again!"

"Stop."

Severus froze at the whimper and slowly lifted his eyes from the bruised, bloodied face of Sirius Black to the heavily bleeding, mortally frightened face of The Boy Who Lived. The toddler tripped over his overly large pants as he scrambled backward, away from the piercing onyx eyes that danced with anger.

"Harry—" Severus glanced down at Black and sighed. Gaining Harry's trust after such an extreme show of violence would be difficult. "Black, if you move, Salazar be my witness, I will erase your presence from this Earth."

Sirius found it difficult to focus on Severus's words, much less make any movement.

Severus slowly got to his feet, hands held before him in a universal surrender motion. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but this man is a very bad man. He hurt a lot of people and given the chance, he will hurt you too." He tried to project his fear to the small boy.

Tears spilled over the one visible bright green eye, mingling with the blood dripping down his face. Though he was obviously terrified and possibly susceptible to the feelings being projected, the baby's chin lifted in an apparent and familiar act of defiance. "No. Snuffles is good!"

Severus gritted his teeth. Reasoning with a toddler with trust issues was not high on his priority list at the present. Getting him to safety was his goal. "No, he is not. Do not think to defy me, child. I am the adult in this situation, not you." Reigning through terror was something he excelled at as a teacher, and he did not think twice about employing such techniques in the volatile setting he found himself in.

Harry's little body began to tremble, but he stood solidly. "You're bad man!" he whimpered before darting toward Sirius.

Unfortunately, at that same moment, Sirius leaped at Severus mid-transformation, his massive half-paw-half-hand catching Harry across the chest. The claws, long from neglect and sharpened for protection, tore through the skin like paper.

Sirius was knocked back by a silent shield spell, his human body hitting the floor with a dull thud. The convict was forgotten in panic as Severus rushed to Harry's side. The small child's eyes were squeezed tightly shut in pain, and tears were leaking from the closed eyelids. Severus shot to his feet and swept everything off a nearby shelf.

Sirius did not dare move as Severus pulled a wand seemingly out of nowhere.

Potions were summoned and forced down the toddler's throat. Incantations were performed. Severus stood over the boy for over an hour trying to repair the damage, not only from the current confrontation but from past neglect and abuse. "Don't die," he kept muttering. "Everything in my life will have been for naught."

Sirius was sitting against the wall, his arms wound tightly around his knees as he watched Snivellus Snape, bane of his existence, show more love and compassion for his enemy's son than he had to anyone during his whole seven years at Hogwarts.

Severus finally collapsed in exhaustion, convinced that Harry would survive with minimal long-term damage. His wand snapped up and he somehow found his way to his feet when Sirius began advancing.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked suspiciously, his hands held before him to show Severus he was unarmed. The blood on his face was dried, but the swelling was impressive. "What—why do you care for Harry, Sni—Severus?" Getting through to the man would take a little more than using that age-old slanderous nickname.

"That is none of your concern, Black. In fact, there is not much that is your concern except the inside of a cell!"

Sirius transformed and bounded across the room as Severus shouted Stupefy! The two collided, and Severus found himself pinned to the ground by Sirius's slight human form. Unfortunately, his own build was little better than the emaciated man's on top of him.

"Listen! I didn't kill the little rat, though Merlin knows I wanted to!" Sirius gritted out. "I knicked some guard's Prophet, and he is with the Weasleys!"

Severus did not realize how far gone the other man actually was until that moment. "Alright," he said slowly, silkily. "Is he under the guise of Arthur—possibly the youngest boy? Maybe the only Weasley girl?"

For the barest moments Sirius really thought Severus believed him, but the mocking tone was not contributing to any such belief. "Snape—Severus—you have got to believe me. We all became animagi to accompany-" he broke off guiltily and looked at Severus with sorrowful eyes. "We did it so we could be with Remus on the full moon."

Severus felt a serge of anger go through him and bucked wildly to dislodge the convict's body from his own. "Do not speak to me about that creature," he hissed, crouching wildly. He despised the way his body stiffened with fear even years later. "I do not care-"

"I would never hurt Harry. He was—is!-everything." His dark, haunted face took on a look of pleading. "I know the fault of their deaths lies with me, but I cannot go back there. I never realized how much of a disservice I was doing Harry by going after him, but I need you to believe me!"

Severus was fascinated with the other man's apparent grip on reality. Though the other man seemed to have a threadbare grasp on his sanity, it was there. That much could not be said of the other residents of Azkaban, even after so short of a term as a few months. How, then, had the man not only retained his sanity but also managed to escape when it had not been done before? There was no doubt that the nearly three years in the wizard prison had taken its toll, but it was not as evident as it might have been. The story was heartfelt, but it was difficult to believe at best. "I do not believe you, Sirius Black. Accomplished liar you may be, there is no way this would have gotten past Albus."

A look of complete devastation took up residence on the con's face. "James—he felt like a pawn. I felt like a pawn, and we just...we wanted to make the decision on our own. We wanted to make a decision without including Albus, for once. Switching Secret Keepers led to James's and Lily's deaths, but it was not me." In a fit of inspiration, Sirius threw his hand out. "Veritaserum! I know you used to be brilliant in potions! You can brew some if you haven't got any in stock, and then you will know the truth!"

Severus's eyebrows lifted in surprise, though his wand hand did not waver. Sirius Black was willingly offering to submit to an interview under Veritaserum with his most hated childhood enemy. Thoughts of revenge and getting concrete, irredeemable evidence made the idea sound really good. "Very well," he said curtly. Turning to his small child, he raised his wand. Swiftly, protective wards were raised, as well as one to alert him if the child woke up. "Follow me."

Sirius followed Snape out of the room and into what could only be described as a roughly designed potions' laboratory. The Potions Master gestured for the other man to seat himself on a stool he placed specifically out of arms reach of anything within the impressive lab. A quick look warned Sirius to touch nothing.

The house was not as Sirius pictured. While he was aware Severus Snape was not an actual vampire, he still always imagined his home as being as close to dungeon-like as possible. There was a distinct dusty feeling to the house, as if it was not often inhabited, but it had an overall comfortable feel to it.

There was no surprise on the convict's face when Severus returned from a nearby storage room with an already prepared phial of the clear truth serum. He supposed it never hurt to have any potion on hand for all varieties of situations.

Carefully measuring out the potion, Severus watched closely as the emaciated man sitting before him swallowed. Leaning against the counter after taking the small glass, he watched and waited for it to take effect. "What is your name?" he asked quietly.

"Sirius Black III." The answer slipped out easily enough.

Severus narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "What was your rank in your years at Hogwarts?"

Sirius grinned roguishly. "Always number three, right behind yourself and the lovely Miss Evans."

The town bell tower began its ringing as Severus decided the Veritaserum had enough time to work. "Who is responsible for the Potters' deaths?"

The previous laughter was wiped from Sirius's face. "I am," he said gravely. At Severus's obvious look of haughty skepticism, he shook his head. "You should ask better questions. The truth is relative, no?"

"Who betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord?" Severus asked after a brief moment of thought.

"Peter Pettigrew." Sirius leaned forward and looked at his clasped hands, finally feeling as if he had a true shot at redemption and freedom.

"Is that why you blew Mr. Pettigrew, as well as several defenseless muggles, to pieces?"

Sirius quickly shook his head in denial. "I didn't—Peter did."

There was a pause, and Severus struggled with the honesty behind the words. If he did not brew the Veritaserum himself, he would have thought it was a bad batch. "Pettigrew took his own life?"

"No."

Severus tutted. "Your answers are conflicting."

Nostrils flaring, Sirius glared up at the man. "I told you earlier, and I was not lying, Peter is alive."

Severus stared down at his potion-stained hands in thought. His mind was racing at the implications. "What makes you believe that Peter Pettigrew is alive?" There was no malice or scorn in his tone; he was merely after answers at that point.

"I confronted him, Snape! He sniveled and cried and begged for mercy, all before cutting off his finger and blowing all those muggles up!" His stomach threatened to upheave the little food that was in it at the memory.

"He then disappeared?" There is where the story became a matter of disbelief.

"He then turned into the rat he is and escaped," Sirius corrected. Had the man listened to nothing of his story earlier?

"What do you mean—the rat he is?"

Sirius settled back into his chair, uncomfortable though it was. "Illegal animagus. I was a dog, James a stag, and Peter a rat-"

Severus cut him off before he could speak of the blasted werewolf again. "You did not mention this when you were tried?" he asked impatiently.

Sirius's eyes darted up to meet Severus's, completely taken aback. "There was not trial, only my denial of guilt and the admission of charges."

Startled, Severus stared down at the man. He saw no mockery, only truth. His mind raced at the possibilities. Surely, Albus would not have allowed such a thing, especially when it came to one of his precious Gryffindors. "They just threw you into Azkaban with no concrete proof?" he asked slowly.

A bitter laugh closer to a bark was issued and Sirius covered his face with shaking hands. "Thought they had the proof. No need for a trial, so—yeah."

The two sat in silence for sometime, both wrapped in their own thoughts of guilt and pain. "Why did you send me to your werewolf friend?" The voice and the question split the silence with the startling briskness of a knife.

Sirius's whole body, already tense, became taught with fear. He clamped his mouth shut, obviously fighting the truth serum. The other man leaned back impassively and waited for the truth to come out. "I was a stupid kid. I wanted your fear and—I wanted you to like me."

"So you set a wild animal on me?" Severus demanded, thrown into a sudden rage.

"Yes," Sirius answered simply. "I can explain it no more than that."

"You could not have tried kindness? You needed the fear to go along with the admirationg? You sodding-"

"I did not need the fear to go along with it. It just seemed like the only way." His eyes truly pleading, he silently begged the other man to believe him. "I was a kid. I thought it was harmless—Remus never hurt—I never thought-"

Severus listened to the half-hearted non-explanations with a heaving chest. He was explosively angry, sick with all that he hand learned. He pitied the man before him and knew the could no more turn him over to the ministry as he could turn Harry back over to the Dursleys. "How did you retain your sanity these past years?" he finally asked after a long stretch of silence.

"By spending as much time as possible in my animagus form. I never registered so—Dementors do not affect animals' minds the same."

"Why are you here?"

"I saw you kidnapping my godson-"

"No. That is not what I meant. Why did you search out the boy?"

"I had to see he was safe before I went after Peter. I couldn't leave after seeing how he was being treated."

Severus gripped the wand in a holster in his sleeve. The Veritaserum would wear off soon, but he had to know one last thing. If the other man was oblivious, then it would be Severus's final, crippling act of revenge. "Did you know from the beginning, like your," he sneered angrily, "friend did, that Harry was my son?"

Sirius blinked up at Severus. "No?" His face showed immediate consternation. "Harry is not your son, Snape. He is Lily's and James's. Not yours."

Staring down his large nose darkly, Severus slowly intone, "You were clearly his best friend and know best." He swept from the room with little heed to his potion lab. It was nothing in comparison to his lab at Hogwarts, and he was willing to wager that Black cared more about being around Harry than his penchant for destruction.

Severus stood in the kitchen making tea, listening with begrudging amusement as Sirius attempted and failed to lie several times before uttering a few terribly outlandish fibs. Teacups were set on the dining room table as Sirius stalked in with a look of mad loathing. "Harry is the spitting image of Jame Potter. I was there the day he was born—I have never seen James more proud."

"And yet," Severus said, placing his teacup upon the table and wiping his mouth with a napkin, "he did not hold his son for the first week of his existence." Head cocked, he turned devastatingly perceptive obsidian eyes on the other man.

Sirius sank into a chair. He refused to believe the other man's words. The first chance he had, he planned on getting Harry away from the apparently deranged Potions Master. "You haven't the capacity for the love it takes to raise a child, Snivellus," he said with little conviction.

The lack of bite in the words did little to ease the sting. Severus's heart ached at the truth behind it, but he was no less convicted in his decision. The alternative could include any number of things, including losing Harry to a rich, artistocratic pure-blood. He was not willing to release the Savior of the Wizarding World, or his son, into the care of anyone who would not give him the home he deserved. "You may take your leave now, Black," he said steadily, slowly raising his teacup to his lips.

Surprise colored Sirius's words as he said, "You're not going to help me clear my name?"

Eyebrows lowered in consternation, Severus stared unblinkingly at the other man. "Surely you are not serious." When no denial came forth, he laughed derisively. "You are of no matter to me, Black. Your fate, though precarious at best, is your own."

Sirius blinked and looked quickly at his teacup, realizing that his only hope of clearing his name lay on the shoulders of a man who was apathetic at best and vengeful at worst. Getting revenge on Wormtail was a very realistic dream that led straight back to Azkaban. The possibility of having a life around his Godson was more appealing, even if it meant begging Snivellus Snape. "Please," he whispered. "I know I have made my mistakes. Do you really think-"

"No," Severus said swiftly, meeting his eyes fiercely. "You wish to take my son from me the first chance you get—your mind is poorly defended. It is as if you are literally projecting your thoughts. While I realize you may not have committed the crimes you were being imprisoned for, you are not completely blameless-"

"I was a stupid kid!" Sirius snapped, realizing where the finger was ultimately pointing. "I am sorry that I wish to take Harry away. It is an instinct that I can't seem to part from where you are concerned. I can fight the urge to dash into the night with him riding upon my back, but I really need your help." He ignored the fact that Severus had read his mind and concentrated on the fact that he did not want to spend the rest of his life with Dementors.

The silence that infused the room was filled with tension and unspoken questions. "I do not have the influence you seem to think I have," Severus said quietly. "I narrowly escaped Azkaban myself, and I have no wish to find myself within its confines by harboring an escaped convict."

That fact had not occurred to Sirius though he supposed it should have. However, he did not have the luxury of freedom. "You have your freedom," he pointed out needlessly.

Nostrils flaring on the sallow-skinned face, Severus turned away with flourish. "You may have free roam of the upstairs, especially the bath," he intoned, giving the animagus an emphatic look. "You are not to wander beyond this kitchen on the lower level without my explicit approval lest you wish to fall into a bout of particular bad fortune." He hesitated on the way out, wondering if his sanity was truly failing him. "You may make use of the kitchen and any food in it."

Sirius sat at the table, staring at his hands. His long, piano fingers were so thin they looked merely skeletal led to his long, skinny hands and long, wasted arms. In the nearly three years since he had been free, his body had been wasted away to nothing. His life had been wasted away to nothing, with no one in it to care for or rely on except Harry Potter, whom the entire wizarding world was relying on. There was also Severus Snape, who Sirius never would have gone to except in such a contorted situation.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Old Dog?" he muttered as he hefted himself to his feet.

In the drawing room, Severus stared down at the small boy who had turned his life around in one afternoon. Pulling out his wand, he carefully hovered the boy down the hall and into his own room. It was the best possible way he could think to keep an eye on him.

It was hours, long after the clanging in the old pipes and then the kitchen died down, before Harry's eyes fluttered. "Pot—Harry," Severus said, leaning forward from the marginally comfortable lounge chair he was seated in. He brushed the dark hair from the baby's forehead, trying not to startle too badly at the twinge in his Mark. There was a hint at a possible fever that Severus quickly checked with his wand. "I have some potions for you to take."

Harry stared up at Severus, whose face was daunting in the flickering candlelight. He drank the potions worldlessly, never complaining of the taste though happy to wash it away with the cool water that was offered. "Are you my dad?" he asked unabashedly as he sank into the pillows once more.

Severus hesitated. His plans were not concrete, though he did not believe that giving up a child of one's own blood was something to be done twice in a lifetime. "Yes, Harry, I am."

The resigned, sad look on Harry's face was mystifying, but he merely nodded and closed his eyes.

Unable to help himself, Severus brushed the child's mind with Legilimency. It was a dangerous thing to do with the mind of a child so young as Harry, but it was as if he could not help himself. Feelings and memories flooded Severus. His breath fled as he was assaulted with the feeling of utter loneliness emitting from the young mind. Harry felt as if he deserved Severus, who would undoubtedly treat him little better than the neglectful Dursleys. He was a freak, a nobody, and he should not be allowed to have his Snuffles.

A crash from the other room brought Severus back to himself, and he covered his face. Harry was asleep once more. The boy was obviously used to terrible treatment and was little more than resigned to being treated the same by Severus. The initial, inlaid trust that had been present when picking the child up was completely gone, replaced by fear and distrust.

Severus cursed Sirius Black and swept out of the room to find what the mutt had decided to destroy.

The scene in the kitchen was a pitiful one. It looked as if much of the kitchen had been disrupted in the quest to fix a big meal for one. Leaned over the sink was the chef himself, vomiting.

Severus surveyed the disaster and the food laid out on the table and decided it was a simple matter of a starved man eating like a starved man. With a wave of his wand, he vanished the food. Forgoing the nearly automatic charm to send the dishes into the sink, he holstered his wand. "You imbecilic dog. You are clearly emaciated to the point of illness. Stuffing yourself with food richer than you are used to will garner this particular reaction. If this is not cleaned up by morning, I will have your animagus form stuffed and mounted."

It took more will-power than he wished to resist fire-calling the Three Broomsticks for Firewhiskey but resist he did. Severus needed to be clear-headed to think about the situation he found himself in.

There was an escaped prison convict in his home, who he had willingly allowed to stay, though he felt better when he realized the argument he put forth made his points clear. Harry Potter was also in his home, occupying his bed. His small mind was warped by nearly three years of severe psychological abuse and neglect. While it was not a completely impossible situation, it was a rather daunting one. The small boy had a trust in Sirius due to a few days' protection by his animagus form so there was some degree of help that the mutt could provide.

Severus settled in the chair beside his bed and watched the impossibly small savior. With a self deprecating smirk, he realized that he would ultimately have to help the boy heal, physically and mentally. How he was to do that through his own numerous issues he did not know. He was not going to suddenly start holding anyone's hand or singing lullabies.

He could find it in himself to provide for the child, though, and he figured that was better than his previous caretakers.