Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own Harry Potter or anything in the books, sadly.

SUMMARY (READ ME!): The Dark Lord wasn't destroyed the night he went after Lily and James (he's also not that much of a douchebag). James isn't Harry's father. Who is? Severus, duh! Severus saves Harry from his relatives when Harry's three and brings him back to Riddle Manor to take care of him. There are veelas and veelas' mates in this story. There will also be a crap-ton of slash. Watch as Severus raises Harry through the war while he tries to juggle Lucius and Harry and the Order and Dumbledore and the freaking war itself all at once. There is also a crap ton of fluff, so be ready!

A/N: Okay, I got the idea of this story from my other story I posted a long time ago called Changes. I have taken that story down because I lost any and all inspiration for it. Don't worry though, if you were reading it. I have it saved and if inspiration hits me for it, I'll write it and might post it back up here.

This will be my first true Severus/Harry father/son story, however, so be nice! Please?

Oh! And review, review, review!

Tom looked up from his book as a knock sounded at his study door. Severus Snape stood there in all his snarky glory. However, he did not stand tall as he normally did. His shoulders were slumped and he was fiddling endlessly with his finger. His ever-present scowl was absent from his face, replaced by a look of worry and concert.

"Severus?" Tom asked—was that concern in his voice?—and stood. "Severus, what's wrong?"

Severus startled, seeming as if he had only just realized that Dark Lord was there. "My Lord," he murmured. "May I come in? I… I have something I need to speak with you about"

"Yes, come in," Tom motioned Severus in and to a chair directly across from where Tom himself sat. "Sit."

Severus walked over, shoulders still slumped, with none of his usual poise and grace. When the potions master had sank down into the chair's plush cushions, Voldemort leaned forward, clasping his hands together and placing his elbows on his desk. "What is it that you needed to speak with me about, Severus?" he asked quietly.

Severus was suddenly fiddling with his fingers again. "I was informed," he started slowly, unsurely, "by Minerva McGonagall that I… have a son."

"Really?" Tom smiled, leaning back in his chair. "That's wonderful, Severus!"

Severus wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Severus?" Tom asked, worry seeping back into his tone. "What is it?"

Severus bit his lip and ducked his head even more. "My son is…" he took a deep, steadying breath. "My son is Harry Potter."

Tom was quiet, and Severus could feel the man's mood changing. "Pardon?" the Dark Lord asked, and Severus winced at the danger in the voice.

"Please let me explain!" Severus pleaded desperately with his master. "Please," he begged.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair with fire in his eyes. "Very well then," he murmured. "I will listen—well? Speak!"

Severus gulped and began to speak quickly, "Lily and I were together before she and Potter went into hiding, before I joined your side. Potter told us that he was going into hiding. Dumbledore and I both decided it would be best if Lily went into hiding with him, because I knew that Lily was pregnant, but Dumbledore obliviated me and made me to believe that Lily had married James and that Harry was his son. The only person James trusted with the information was Minerva. She felt that I should know that I have a son. She showed me the memories Dumbledore had taken from me."

Tom studied the potions master for a moment before sighing. "I'm sorry, Severus," he said sadly. "I'm very happy that you have found your son. However, I… simply cannot let him live. The prophesy clearly states—"

"It's not a self-fulfilling prophesy!" Severus blurted desperately. He then lowered his head apologetically for interrupting the Dark Lord. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Explain," Voldemort ordered.

Severus took a deep breath and began slowly, "There is a spell that can make even the worst of seers spout a prophesy upon request. Dumbledore used in on Trelawney to see what would happen if Lily's son grew up and fought on the Light side. I overheard the prophesy being made and recounted it to you without knowing the whole story. I still wouldn't know the whole story if I hadn't overheard Dumbledore discussing it with Minerva earlier this week." Here he paused for a moment to re-gather his thoughts before he began again. "If we can get Harry on our side, teach him our ways, that prophesy will be completely irrelevant."

Severus stopped and glanced at the Dark Lord. Tom seemed deep in thought. "This changes everything, then," he murmured. "Everything."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus agreed eagerly. "We could bring Harry here and teach him our ways. He wouldn't even have to fight in the war. The Light would be completely helpless without him."

Tom clasped his hands together thoughtfully, "That they would. Completely helpless."

"So please, my Lord," Severus begged. "Please let me go get my son. Let me go get him and bring him to where he rightfully belongs."

"Hmm," Tom stroked his chin. "Very well, then. Go and get your son. Bring him back here, where he belongs. Where… is he?"

"He was sent to Lily's sister and her husband after Lily and James died. Dumbledore placed wards around the house so that only blood relatives of Harry and Dumbledore himself could get inside unless given explicit permission by Dumbledore himself."

"Muggles?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort's red eyes darkened. "Go get him then, Severus," he whispered. "Go get your son."

Severus appeared in front of number four Privet Drive with a soft pop. He observed the small street carefully. Every house looked almost exactly alike, the only difference being the gold numbers hung on the doors and mailboxes. Severus walked up to the one with the neatest front yard and the whitest window panes. He peered into the front window and spied a small family on the inside. He immediately recognized Petunia—the horse-faced woman was sitting primly on the couch with a fat—more like baby hippo sized—toddler sitting in front of her, stuffing sweets in his mouth. A large whale-sized man with a brown mustache and bald head sat in a recliner by the farthest wall, his beady eyes transfixed on the telly.

Severus frowned. Where was harry? Surely that baby whale was the Dursleys' son?

Steeling himself for whatever lay inside, he knocked on the door. He watched as the whale huffed in annoyance and struggled to his feet before making his way to the door.

Once the door was open, Vernon Dursley's bushy eyebrows rose when he caught sight of Severus in his all black robes and scowl.

"Hello, sir," Dursley said in a falsely polite voice that grated on Severus's ears. "May I help you?"

"Yes, you may," Severus answered, fighting to keep the disgusted sneer off his face (really, it couldn't be natural to be that large, but still have such small ankles and feet?). "I'm looking for a Mr. Harry Potter."

Severus watched as the man's overly-red face paled drastically. "I'm sorry, who?" the man stuttered.

Severus barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. "Harry Potter," he repeated irritably. "Your nephew."

Vernon gulped. "I have no nephew," he argued weakly. "And I know no Harry Potter."

"Why don't I believe you?" Severus sneered, pushing his way past the large muggle and into the house.

"Now, listen here!" Severus heard Dursley sputter indignantly, fear forgotten, and begin to stumble after him. Severus ignored him and strode purposefully into the sitting room, where Petunia and her overweight son sat.

Petunia yelped in surprise when Severus appeared suddenly in the doorway. She scrambled to her feet and stepped protectively in front of her now crying son, "You—!"

"Me," Severus agreed with an ugly sneer. "Where's Harry?"

"Now, listen here!" Vernon Dursley pushed his way in front of Severus and snarled in Severus's face. "You cannot just barge into my house, demanding something from us! I don't care who you are—!"

"Vernon," Petunia interject with forced calm. "Show him the boy."

"No!" Vernon reared around to face his wife. "I will not! Who does he think—"

"Vernon!" Petunia snapped. "Show him the boy!"

Vernon jutted his chin out stubbornly, and, losing whatever patience he had, Severus whipped out his wand and pointed it at the muggle. Vernon leapt back with a startled yell. "You're—you're one of those—those freaks!" Vernon yelped.

"Yes," Severus cruelly. "I am one of those… freaks, as you so… graciously put it. And if you don't show me where Harry is this instant I will show you just how dangerous we freaks can be."

Vernon's pale face paled even further, and, still sputtering indignantly, led Severus down a small hallways towards a set of stairs. Instead of going up them, however, he continued straight until he came to a small door under the stairs. "He's under there," Dursley said gruffly.

Severus's eyes widened in disbelief and he stared at the small, plain white door for a long while before slowly turning to the two older Dursleys. The dangerous, furious glint in the potion master's eyes made the two flinch back in fear.

"You mean to tell me," Severus whispered, "that you keep a three year old boy in a cupboard under the stairs?"

Vernon Dursley, apparently, didn't have any sense of preservation for himself or his family. "The little brat deserves it!" he defended himself. "Never doing what he's told and always doing that freak magic—" Severus momentarily felt his heart swell with pride that his son was doing accidental magic at three "—And it's not our fault that he was dumped on our doorstep! That Dumbles person only told us to keep the boy here; he didn't tell us we had to take care of him!"

Severus clenched his fists and breathed deeply in an almost vain effort to keep from killing the man. "I don't care who he is," he forced out through gritted teeth, "who his parents are, or what he's done… no child deserves to be treated this way. Stay."

Without giving either Dursley a chance to respond, Severus whipped around and, with a simple flick of his want, unlocked the cupboard door. What he saw when he opened the door made him blink back tears.

The smell of urine and sweat immediately assaulted his nose and made his eyes burn even more. A small bundle of rags lay on a thin, obviously worn mattress—was that even a mattress?—with a mop of black hair peeking out. Was there even a child there? Severus crawled the short distance to the rags. He hesitantly pulled back the first layer of rags and gasped. Harry's face was pinched in pain; his eyebrows were crunched and he was whimpering in his sleep. He hadn't heard any of the commotion.

Severus reached out to put a hand on the boy's forehead and cursed. He was burning up.

All hesitance gone, Severus completely pulled the rags off Harry's small body. Clothes that were way too big for him from his body. The toddler was curled into a fetal position, his right wrist cradled protectively to his chest.

Not willing to waste another minute, Severus carefully scooped Harry up, mindful of his wrist, and cradled the boy protectively to his chest. It was then that he noticed the small stuffed wolf in the corner and quickly snatched it, deciding that it might be important to the boy.

He carefully maneuvered himself out of the cupboard and stood to his fully height, Harrys till cradled in his arms. Harry made a small sound of pain, but Severus shushed him gently, using one hand to smooth the boy's bangs from his sweat forehead. Harry immediately quieted. Severus quickly casted a silent cleansing charm on his son. Harry sighed as he was rid of the urine on his body and clothes. Had he been in that cupboard so long he had wet himself?

Severus turned his furious gaze toward the two Dursleys who had slunk back until they were as far away from Severus as possible without leaving the hallway.

"Now," Severus whispered in barely constrained anger. "I'm going to take my son and leave before I kill both of you. I can promise you, however, that this is not the last you've seen of me or us freaks. So get ready, Dursley."

Without giving either Dursley chance to respond, Severus swept out of the house and out onto the dark street. He shushed Harry again when the boy whispered in pain.

"Shh, my son," Severus whispered, kissing Harry's sweaty forehead. "I have you. Nothing will ever hurt you again."

Severus rushed down the long corridors of Riddle Manor with his precious bundle held securely in his arms. He burst into his private rooms and gently laid the small boy on his bed. He quickly transfigured the boy's baggy clothes into fitted silk pajamas. Harry whimpered in pain and shifted, but didn't wake.

"Oh, my boy," Severus whispered. "Where do you hurt?" He gently lifted the boy until he was slumped against Severus' chest. He whimpered when Severus placed a hand on his back. Frowning, Severus gently lifted Harry's shirt and gasped. Welts covered Harry's little back—fresh, red, raw, painful welts.

"That bastard whipped you!" Severus snarled and then quickly soothed Harry when the boy whimpered and stirred.

Still cursing under his breath, Severus carefully peeled Harry's shirt from his body. Still supporting Harry's weight and rearranging him so that there was no pressure on his injured wrist, Severus called for one of the house elves.

The small creature popped into his rooms and stared curiously at Harry's prone form. Severus suddenly felt the almost overwhelming urge to hide his small son from the elf's too large eyes. "Go get Healer Adams and the Dark Lord. Now!" he ordered harshly instead.

The elf squeaked something in reply, but Severus wasn't paying attention to it anymore. He instead began to stroke his fingers soothingly through his son's unruly black hair. He sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's lightning bolt scar—the only remnant to the night Lily was killed before resting his cheek on top of Harry's head.

There was a knock on his door and Severus straightened, "Come in."

Healer Adams, a short man in his late forties with grey-speckled brown hair and kind blue eyes, walked in cautiously. "Severus?" he asked when he caught sight of Harry.

"He has welts all over his back," Severus said briskly, and the Healer stepped forward. "I think his wrist is broken and he has a fever. He's not breathing right either." Harry's breathing had become irregular since Severus had found him.

Adams had, thankfully, brought his medical kit with him and immediately went into Healer-mode. "Let's put something on those welts, first, so they won't hurt him when we lay him on his back," the Healer said, pulling out a jar of a pasty white cream.

"What is that?"

"Just something to sooth the pain and jumpstart the healing process," Adams assured the distressed man. "Will you please turn him around so I can see his back? Good. Has he woken at all?"

"Not since I got him from his relatives'," Severus denied.

"That is probably the fever taking affect," the Healer began to spread the cream on his hands. "This will hurt him at first and he will likely struggle, so I need you to keep him still so that I can get this everywhere needed. Once the cream sets the boy will likely settle."

Severus nodded and tightened his arms around his son. "I've got you," he whispered into Harry's ear. Adams began to gently spread the cream onto Harry's injuries and after a minute Harry let out a strangled whimper and tried to squirm. Severus had a firm but gentle grip on the boy, however, keeping him from moving. Harry whimpered and Severus was horrified when a strangled sob came from his throat and tears escaped from his still closed eyes.

"Why doesn't he wake?" Severus asked in distress.

Tom stepped forward from where he had been standing hidden in the shadows. "He likely recognizes that you're his father. He realizes in his subconscious that no matter how much pain he's in he's safe with you, so it's okay to stay asleep."

Severus looked down at his distressed son with suddenly burning eyes. "Jeremiah," he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of Harry's head.

"There we go," Adams said, straightening up and wiping the excess cream onto a towel. "It should set in a moment and we'll give him something for his fever, then you can lie him down so he'll be more comfortable."

Sure enough, almost exactly a moment later, Harry slumped against Severus with a relieved sigh, his little face relaxing again. Adams handed Severus a vile of a purplish looking potion for Harry's fever. Severus gently poured the potion into Harry's mouth and messaged his throat until the boy swallowed. He then gently laid the little boy down on the bed and rested a hand on top of the boy's head when Harry whimpered as Severus went to pull away.

"You call him Jeremiah earlier," Voldemort observed as Adams began his physical examination of Harry.

Severus nodded, but did not take his eyes off Harry. "Lily and I talked about it," he said quietly. "About what we wanted to name him. We decided on Jeremiah Tobias Snape. Harry was likely James's idea."

"I take it you want to change his name to Jeremiah Tobias Snape?"

Severus nodded, "Lily was set on him being named after my father and having my last name. I wanted him to be named after her father and have her last name, but she wouldn't have it. It… It only seems right to do what she wanted."

Voldemort conjured an arm chair and sat down in it. They all sat in silence until Healer Adams finished his physical examination and gave them the final verdict.

"His wrist is broken," he began, "and those welts were very fresh—they were probably inflicted within the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours. He has three bruised and cracked ribs from probably being kicked. He has a rather severe case of pneumonia—seems to be from having a cold and staying out in the cold for too long. It's not severe enough to be fatal, but he is confined to bed rest until it is mostly of fully cleared up." He pointed to the tray that suddenly appeared with vials full of potions and the cream he had used on Harry's welts. "This one is for his ribs. He should only have to take one dose, maybe two for his ribs to heal. This one is for his wrist. It will set the bone and heal it right away. Apply the cream to his welts twice a day until they clear up—they may leave minor scarring, however. These are for his pneumonia—one for his fever, one for the pneumonia itself. The one for the fever should only be taken if his fever gets over one hundred, but the other should be taken three times a day to clear up the pneumonia. Other than that, give him plenty of fluids, make sure he eats as much as he can handle, plenty of rest—you know the drill. I'll come in to check on him once a day until he gets better, then once a week, and so on. Questions? Either of you?"

Both men shook their heads.

"Very well, then," Adams smiled and stood. "I'll leave your three alone."

"Thank you!" Severus called after the Healer before he focused his attention back on his son.

"Did the muggles do this to him?"

Severus swallowed thickly and whispered, "Yes."

Voldemort was quiet before he hissed angrily, "I assure you, Severus, those muggles will pay dearly for what they did to Jeremiah. We will bring them here and do with them whatever it is you wish to do."

"They have a son around Jeremiah's age. Don't kill him, please. He never did anything wrong. Take him to an orphanage or something, but please don't kill him."

Voldemort was quiet for a moment before he finally said, "Very well then."

"My Lord?" Severus whispered as the Dark Lord made to leave.

Voldemort turned and was shocked at the amount of protectiveness and love he found for the boy on the bed in Severus' dark eyes. "What is it, Severus?" he whispered, still awed.

"Thank you for letting me find Jeremiah," the potions master whispered. "For letting me save my son from those muggles."

Tom let a small smile grace his lips, "You're very welcome, Severus." He paused for a moment, "Would you like me to send Lucius up here?"

Severus shook his head, "I'd like to speak with Jeremiah first. I'll call for Lucius when I'm ready."

Tom nodded, "Very well, then. I'll leave you alone with your son."

And he was gone.

Severus sat vigilantly by Jeremiah's side for the next two hours before Jeremiah's eyes finally fluttered open. Severus was momentarily struck with awe as he caught sight of Jeremiah's large, emerald green eyes for the first time. They peered around the room with unfocused confusion.

"Jeremiah?" Severus whispered, completely not expecting the reaction he got.

Jeremiah jerked in surprised panic and his eyes settled unfocusedly on Severus. The boy gave a small cry and began to try and scramble away from Severus.

"Wait!" Severus quickly reached out and caught the boy before he tumbled off the bed. He pulled Jeremiah to his chest and began running his fingers calmingly through his hair. "Shh," he soothed the boy over and over again. "I've got you. You're okay."

When Jeremiah finally calmed down some, Severus pulled away slightly. "Can you see me?" he murmured quietly, so as to not spook the boy again.

Jeremiah squinted up at him before shaking his head, "Can' see nofin."

Severus frowned and pulled out his wand before casting a quick spell on the boy. Jeremiah's eyes immediately cleared and he stared up at Severus in awe. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, then immediately clamped his good hand over his mouth and ducked his head in shame. "I sowwy."

Severus frowned again, "What are you sorry for, little one?"

"Nah s'possed t' talk 'less sp'ken to," Jeremiah whispered. "Unco said."

Severus felt his deep hatred for the man growing even deeper. "It's not like that here," he assured his son. "You can talk as much as you like. You won't ever be punished for it."

"Wh'n ya gonna take me b'ck to unco's?"

"Never."

"Nev'r?"

"Never."

Jeremiah's eyes lit up so brightly and he looked so happy and hopeful that Severus found himself smiling as well. "Who're you?" Jeremiah asked curiously.

Severus took a deep breath, "I'm your father."

Jeremiah immediately shook his head in denial, "My d'ddy's dead. Unco said so."

Severus sighed. Vernon Dursley had planted many beliefs into Jeremiah's gullible three-year-old mind, and it would take him a long time to believe that nothing his uncle had told him was true. "Your uncle told you that the man everyone thought was your father was dead," he told Jeremiah gently. "I am your real daddy. Your uncle didn't know about me."

Jeremiah studied him for a minute before his eyes widened hopefully, "You're r'lly ma daddy?"

Severus grinned and nodded.

Jeremiah grinned so happily that it broke Severus's heart. The boy made to throw his arms around Severus's neck, but then recoiled and cradled his wrist gently to his chest. "Ow," he whimpered.

"Here," Severus murmured, holding out two vials of potion to Jeremiah.

"What're those?" Jeremiah asked wearily.

"Something to help you wrist and chest stop hurting."

"How'd ya know ma chest's hurtin?"

"I can read minds," Severus told his son seriously, smiling when Jeremiah giggled, and helped his son drink one of the vials.

"Ew," Jeremiah grimaced before sighing in relief when his chest stopped hurting and he could breathe easier. He took the second vial of potion and drank in with his father's help. He waited a moment before pain exploded in his wrist. "Ow!" he yelled, tears springing to his eyes and down his cheeks. "I-it hurts!"

"I know," Severus whispered as his son clutched desperately onto him and buried his face into his chest. "It'll stop hurting in a minute, and you'll feel better." He held onto Jeremiah until what was only a minute or two later, but felt like hors for both father and son, the pain subsided in Jeremiah's wrist, leaving a pleasant warm feeling. He slumped against his father's chest with a relieved sigh.

"There, now," Severus whispered, thumbing away the tears left on his son's cheeks. "Do you feel better now, Jeremiah?"

Jeremiah nodded before asking tiredly, "S'that ma n'me?"

"Yes," Severus murmured, stroking his son's black hair.

"Unco nev'r said ma n'me," Jeremiah was burrowing closer to Severus now. "He s'd only good l'ttle boys h'd n'mes. Not fr'ks like me. C'n I k'p ma n'me?"

"Of course," Severus had to fight to keep his anger at Vernon Dursley out of his voice. "You aren't a freak here. You're just like every one of us. Jeremiah is your name, and it will always be your name. Go to sleep, now, Jeremiah. You're tired."

Jeremiah smiled and let Severus maneuver him under the covers. The little boy kept his grip on Severus's hand, however. "Stay wit me?" he whispered.

"Always," Severus answered surly, kissing Jeremiah's forehead tenderly. "I'm never leaving you again."

A/N: Okay, so I hope you liked it! Review, review, review!

The same rule goes here as for the Potions Tutor: I HAVE to get ten reviews for a chapter before I post the next one. Good? Good.

Pease review? It'll make my day, and I will update SOOOOOOOOOOO much faster.

xx