Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, obviously.

A/N: I am terribly sorry for the long wait! The worst thing is, I had this chapter almost done about a week after I posted the last one, but I was stuck on just one sentence that simply didn't want to sound right (Yes, I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to writing). I'm still not completely satisfied with that sentence, but it will have to do for now. Again, I'm sorry! I hope the next chapter will be up much sooner, not sure when will it be, but not earlier than the first weekend of October, I think. Hopefully I won't get stuck on anything again!

And again, I would like to thank everybody who took time to read what I've written! And people who added the story to story alerts/favorites – thank you very much! And thank you very, very much for all the reviews! I'm really glad people have been enjoying this story so far, I hope I won't disappoint you. Special thanks again to amortencja who yelled at me two days ago (well, used Caps Lock at me) which made me finally get on with this story...

If you see any typos/grammar mistakes/etc. please let me know!

Also, this chapter contains the mentions of torture I had warned against.

The sentences marked with * are direct quotes from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

oxo

Chapter Two: The Nightmare

Saturday, 18th February 1984, Ministry of Magic, London

Around 7PM

Lily brushed away a stubborn strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail and kept falling into her eyes. She sighed tiredly, but could not keep from smiling. It was a hard day at work, but finally she was going home to her boys. She hated working on Saturdays, but, unfortunately, when you worked in the Department of Mysteries, sometimes it was necessary. The secrecy was valued here more than in any other Department and working on some important projects while the rest of the Ministry was almost completely empty certainly helped in keeping things secret.

She went to the toilet – she hated apparating with the full bladder. After having relieved herself, she brushed her hair in front of the mirror.

"You look horrible today," it said.

"Why, thank you," answered Lily dryly. She smirked, turned on the tap and splattered some water over the mirror. "You too."

"Hey!" it shouted indignantly at her, but Lily ignored it and walked out of the toilet. She went back to her desk and started packing her bag.

"Unspeakable Snape," she heard the Head of the Department speak from right behind her. She started. Why did he always have to sneak up on her? She has never met anyone who could walk as silently as him. "I need to speak with you."

"Yes, sir," she said with a sinking feeling. Her boss wanted to talk to her after hours? It did not bode well. She tried to look around discretely, wondering if anyone else was around.

"Don't worry, we are alone here," he said. "Every other Unspeakable apparated home already. But you lingered. Did you have a feeling?" he asked.

"No, sir," Lily shook his head, wondering what sort of feeling could he mean. He was a weird man, she understood that a long time ago. And the most secretive one – none of the Unspeakables even knew his name.

"Pity," he sighed. "I had hopes. But no matter, no matter. I understand that you have visited Hall of Prophecy several times, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir." Where was he going with this?

"Are you familiar with a row number 97?"

"I don't think I know anything particular about that row," she replied carefully.

"Very well," he said, smiling slightly. "As you have been working with us loyally for this past three years, I may inform you now that down that row there is a prophecy concerning one of the members of your family. Tom Snape, I believe, is your younger son?"

"Yes", answered Lily, stunned. "But... How? I mean, he's only a boy-"

"Don't make me disappointed in you, Unspeakable Snape," he cut her off sternly. "You're an intelligent woman, you know it doesn't matter."

ooo

Saturday, 2nd May 1998, Hogwarts

Around 2AM

When Harry entered the Headmaster's Office, he immediately realized that his hopes of talking to Dumbledore's portrait were futile. All headmasters and headmistresses had left their frames, even him. The office seemed so empty, now. Harry sighed sadly. He turned back to exit, not wanting to linger there, but something on the headmaster's desk caught the corner of his eye.

The Pensieve.

It must have been Snape (That cowardly traitor! Just thinking about him made his blood boil.) who had left it there – maybe it contained some valuable information on Voldemort and his forces?

He hesitated, remembering what happened the last time when he took a look into Snape's memories, but he couldn't just walk away – what if there really was something important in there?

Besides, he doubted that anything could be worse than his own thoughts at the moment – so many people have died, all because of him. Fred... Remus... Tonks...

So Harry dived.

xxx

Wednesday, 2nd May 1984, Home

Around 2AM

Tommy whimpered softly in his sleep. He was dreaming about the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. How after Voldemort had given them an hour without fighting, a time for Harry to give himself up, he went into the Pensieve containing Snape's memories... What he saw in there...

-You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard.*-

-It doesn't make any difference.*-

-you think I want to be a – a freak?*-

-I didn't mean – I just don't want to see you made a fool of – He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!*-

-It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends – you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?*-

-I just wanted to talk to you one last time-

-Severus... I...-

-You disgust me. You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?*-

-You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son.*-

-mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent*-

-You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff.*-

-You must kill me.*-

-Headmaster, this is ridiculous, I cannot be the boy's father!-

-So the boy…the boy must die?*-

-Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?*-

-I hold no love for him-

-It should ensure your son's safety-

-He is no son of mine-

-I am counting upon you to remain in Lord Voldemort's good books as long as possible, or Hogwarts will be left to the mercy of the Carrows…*-

Tommy tossed and turned, but there was no escaping his dream.

xxx

Saturday, 2nd May 1998, The Forbidden Forest

Around 3AM

And so Harry stood there, his thoughts in turmoil, waiting for the spell that would end his life. His eyes flickered toward Snape, standing calmly beside Voldemort. How could he stand there just like that, like it was nothing, like it didn't matter to him that his own son was about to die? How could this man be his father, how could he abandon him just like that? He has known that Harry was his son for almost two years and it never changed a thing between them-

It hurt.

He turned his gaze back to Voldemort, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second-

Voldemort smiled a twisted smile. "I see," he said quietly. He merely snapped his fingers and, suddenly, ropes sprang out of nowhere and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry, immobilizing him. He then gestured for one of his Death Eaters to take Harry and tie him to a nearby tree.

"I'm going to do you a favour, Harry," he said softly, still smiling cruelly. "Are you in for a show, my dear boy? I hope you'll stay with us, you won't regret it, I assure you." He laughed mirthlessly, sending chills down Harry's spine. It didn't sound like he was planning a short, painless death for him. Didn't he want to end this as soon as possible, so as not to risk Harry's escaping again? Apparently not.

Harry tried to say something, but no sound escaped his mouth – Voldemort must have put Silencio on him.

"Severus!"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I've seen the most interesting thing in our dear Harry's mind, Severus. Really, you wouldn't believe. Would you care to hear it?" Something cold and heavy settled itself in Harry's stomach. Oh, no. Please, no.

"I'm all- all ears, my Lord," said Snape, unable to stop his voice from breaking a little.

"Well, well, well, if you insist. It seems that Harry here is rather displeased with his father. Would you know, why is that so, Severus?"

"No- No, my Lord."

"That's strange." Voldemort put on a mock thoughtful expression. "I would think that you, of all people, would know it best."

And then, there were ropes wrapped around Snape's body, too, and Voldemort's cold, mirthless laugh ringing in Harry's ears again.

He turned to his other Death Eaters. "Let it be a lesson, my faithful Death Eaters, of how Lord Voldemort rewards those who dare to betray him." He seemed to be assessing them all for a moment. "Bellatrix, Antonin – take care of Severus. You don't need to restrain yourself, just don't kill him," he said finally, curling his lips in a twisted smile. "For now."

"Thank you, Master!" said Bellatrix eagerly, while Dolohov just inclined his head with a calm "Yes, my Lord."

"As for the rest of you – it's time to rejoin the battle, the hour is up. And you, Harry – you may watch your detestable father's pain to your heart's content. It is my gift to you, the last pleasure of the dying. Enjoy. You have two hours."

xxx

Wednesday, 2nd May 1984, Home

Around 2AM

In his dream, Harry revived the most horrible two hours of his life. To watch someone – and not just anyone, it was his father there, no matter how much he wanted to deny it – in tremendous pain, inflicted because of him, because he was so stupid as to never learn Occlumency, as to look Voldemort in the eye, knowing that his mind was open to him – to watch it all, not being able to do anything, all the while being also aware that other people could be dying at the very moment... To watch a strong, brave man who never dared to show his emotions slowly being reduced to a sobbing mess, to something less than human, to watch his dignity and sanity being torn away, and hear Bellatrix's cold, cruel laugh...

xxx

Saturday, 2nd May 1998, The Forbidden Forest

Around 5AM

Harry has never thought he would ever want to see Voldemort, but there he was, tied to a tree, fighting waves of nausea at the scenes happening before his very eyes, silently pleading for the Dark Lord to come and end it all.

And, finally, he came back. He came back, gestured Bellatrix and Dolohov to step aside and approached Snape.

And Snape was still whimpering in pain, like an animal, not aware that the pain has stopped, not aware of anything.

Voldemort looked at Snape, distaste apparent in his eyes. "Oh my, Severus, you smell something terrible," he said, a trace of amusement audible in his voice, eyes drifting to a spot on Snape's robes where the man – no, he was no longer a man, his humanity had been stripped off of him before it happened – pissed himself. He turned his attention to Harry. "How did you like the show, my boy? Was it not satisfying to you to see a man who has abandoned you, let's not even call him your father, getting what he deserved?" He laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, my bad," he said, when Harry didn't respond. "I forgot about this little inconvenience." He snapped his fingers. "You may speak now, Harry."

Harry did not say a word.

"No? Very well," said Voldemort. "But tell me, what do you want me to do with this piece of dirt? Would you like my faithful Death Eaters to have some more fun, or would you rather I killed him? The choice is up to you, I won't kill him before you tell me to, it is your father, after all."

They both knew that Snape's mind was as damaged as the minds of Neville's parents. There was no healing for Snape, the only thing that life could bring him was even more pain.

Harry didn't think he could stand this any longer.

"Tell me, Harry, what do you want me to do with him?" said Voldemort softly, his voice barely audible.

The leaves rustled in the wind. The darkness was lessening with every minute, the sun was already rising. Birds had started their morning song a while ago.

Who knew what monsters lurked behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry knew there was only one thing he could do.

"Kill him," he whispered, his insides clenching painfully.

xxx

Wednesday, 2nd May 1984, Home

Around 2AM

It was a soft knocking on his and Lily's bedroom's door that woke Severus up – like it had happened on many nights before this one, whenever Jimmy couldn't sleep. Severus has always been a lighter sleeper than his wife, so usually he was the one to calm down their distressed son at such times.

"Come in," he said softly, not wanting to raise Lily, but loud enough for the boy to hear.

The boy opened the door slowly, as if unsure whether he really was allowed inside.

But this time it was not Jimmy who came to seek comfort from his parents.

In came Tommy, and stood there awkwardly, not sure how to act.

"Tommy?" Severus propped himself up on his elbow. "Come here, love," he said gently.

The boy took a few hesitant step towards the bed. When he stood close to it, Severus saw that Tommy's face was streaked with tears.

"What happened, child?" he asked softly, concerned. Tommy very rarely – almost never – cried.

Tommy bit his lip. "I- I had a bad dream," he whispered.

"Do you want to lay with us, sunshine?" Severus patted the space on the bed between him and Lily.

"I- I might," the child whispered after a moment's hesitation and, prompted by Severus, hesitantly crawled onto the bed between his parents.

Severus rolled over onto his other side to face him. "Now, child," he said gently, concern evident in his voice. "Would you like to tell me about your dream?"

Tommy started to shake his head no, but caught himself. "I don't know," he whispered instead. "May I- may I just stay with you for a while?"

"Of course, child." He stroked his son's hair gently. Tommy closed his eyes.

There was a long silence.

"You died," whispered Tommy hardly moving his lips, his words barely audible.

But Severus heard him anyway. "You dreamt about me dying?" He wasn't sure how he felt about this – did it mean that, after all, his younger son did care about him? He was strangely moved.

Tommy slightly nodded his head, eyes still closed. "But it wasn't just- just death..." He sounded almost as if he was in pain, and he was speaking so softly that Severus had to strain his ears to hear him. Tommy opened his eyes and looked at his father, his sad, serious expression hardly fitting a child's face. "And it wasn't just a dream..."

"What do you mean?" asked Severus, not knowing what to think.

Tommy closed his eyes again. "Nothing, nothing..." he whispered. Another long silence followed. "Dad?" whispered Tommy finally.

"Yes, child?"

"I just... No, nothing..." They laid silently for another couple of minutes. Severus started drifting back to sleep against his will, but still, he managed to catch his son's next words.

"I'm sorry," whispered the child.

Severus forced himself to open his eyes. "What are you sorry for, Tommy?" he asked gently, noticing with concern that his boy's cheeks were again wet with tears. It wasn't always easy to deal with Jimmy, especially when Severus was sleepy, but dealing with Tommy... The boy was so closed off... If you can say that about a boy who is not even four.

"It was my fault." The tone of his voice was heartbreaking.

"Tommy, child-"

"There was Voldemort, you know?"

Severus was confused. And it was too late of an hour to think. "What?..."

"Who, you mean. Lord Voldemort, though he was no lord. Tom Marvolo Riddle. You named me after him, you know."

"We never-"

"He has red eyes and is the Heir of the Slytherin. He is evil. He has his Death Eaters. And he killed you." There was something alarming about the way he spoke – and what's worse, Severus had no idea what exactly he was talking about.

"Tommy, love, it was only a bad dream-"

Tommy sat straight up in bed. "No, it wasn't, and you'll never know it." He looked close to tears now. How do you explain to a child that what he has seen in a dream is not real? "You'll never know it, because you aren't you. And he wouldn't- wouldn't know, it wouldn't happen, if not for m-m-me." Tommy's lip trembled and his voice started to break. You aren't you? What on Earth could he mean by that? "And he made me- he made me- say it, I had to, I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry." Tears swelling in his eyes started to roll down his cheeks. "Do you- do you hate me?"

"Tommy, child, I could never hate you," said Severus softly, his voice full of emotion. "Why would you think I do?"

"I don't- you just- you just should, I'm just..." Tommy trailed off.

Severus sat up fully. "You're just what?" he asked gently. He hugged his boy close to him. Tommy stiffened up a little, but relaxed after a moment. "I love you very, very much, child," Severus whispered. "And it will never change, no matter what, remember that."

"But what if I- if I'm bad?" asked Tommy, his voice muffled up a bit by Severus' pyjama shirt. "What if I'm just a liar?"

Severus loosened the embrace so he could see his son's face, his hands on his boy's shoulders. He looked at him seriously. "You aren't bad, son."

Tommy looked down, but didn't respond.

xxx

There was no use talking to him, Harry did know that. It has never been more evident that professor Snape (Not that he has ever used that word when speaking about him, even when talking with Dumblerore...) and his Dad were not the same person. But Harry just felt so guilty, and it was just so terrible, so scary, and he couldn't stand the sight of Snape like he was just before his death – it was no way to die, no way to die – and for what? Just because Harry was an arrogant, thoughtless idiot.

Harry wanted to see him so much, to wash that horrible sight away from his eyes, to make sure that Snape was all right now, in this life, to apologize to him, even though he couldn't know what Tommy was apologizing for-

And he just wanted to be with his Dad, to talk with him, to hug him even – but he was too scared. He has always been afraid that Snape was going to push him away, even though the man hugged him countless times and it has never seemed forced or insincere in any way.

And this Snape didn't understand anything, he didn't know – how could he not know? Harry did go back in time just so everyone could live happily, not knowing anything about Voldemort – it was a great thing that they didn't have to go through all this, but now, keeping something like this secret from everyone, he felt a bit lonely. And it was weird to see Snape, of all people, confused by Voldemort's name.

Harry desperately wanted Snape to forgive him, but this was not the way – was there even a way? Probably not without exposing himself for who he really was, not without admitting what a liar he was – not without losing his family. Besides, this Snape's forgiveness would be simply worthless – he knew that, yes. But it did not stop him from craving it.

The thing that hurt him the most when he learned that Snape was his father was the fact that the man did not accept him, did not want him at all – it was like the Dursleys all over again. This Snape seemed so accepting (Well, he didn't know the truth – if he did, it would have been a whole different story, Harry was sure of that.) that it should not matter to him much.

But it did.

Hearing his Dad telling him that he would love him no matter what must have been the greatest thing he has ever heard, even though it might not have been true.

But maybe he should believe that, after all, it just might have been true, too.

And, as much as he wanted to deny the fact, during this three – almost four – years of living with him Harry has grown to care for this man – his father, his Dad – very much. And, despite Tommy's continuing aloofness towards him, Snape still treated him just the same.

Like a son he really did care for, a son he loved.

It must have counted for something, right?

And so, heart in his throat, Harry finally spoke.

xxx

"Dad?" came a quiet voice of a child. "Can I... May I... stay?" It saddened Severus, how nervous his child still seemed to feel. Did Tommy think he would kick him out of the room? Would his son ever be at ease around him? "I don't want to... be alone..." added Tommy, his voice barely audible.

"Of course, sunshine," said Severus softly. "Can you go to sleep now, or would you like to talk about your dream some more?" he asked tentatively. A sudden idea hit him. "Or," he smiled slightly, "we could get you some cocoa?"

Tommy shook his head. "Just sleep," he whispered. Casting a glance at Severus, as if to check if he really was allowed, he got comfy in bed and closed his eyes.

His poor, troubled, precious child. "Good night, Tommy," said Severus quietly and kissed his little son's forehead.

"Good night, Dad," the boy whispered back.

Silence. Severus felt so tired – he was glad that Tommy opted for sleep. He didn't think he could manage to stay awake all night if the child wouldn't be able to go back to sleep or would be too afraid of nightmares to do so.

But still, he was glad that Tommy came. That, for the first time ever, he sought comfort from him.

Severus knew that there were some things which Tommy said that he should think about – and some things he should have told his boy – but he really was too tired to even think properly.

And then, Tommy snuggled up to him. "I love you, Dad".