Harry stood very still as he stared at his godfather. "This isn’t real," Harry finally blurted out. "You aren’t real. You died."

"What?" Sirius jerked his head in Harry’s direction. "What are you going on about? I thought you were going out for a while."

By the looks of the lights, it seemed very late in the evening. Harry glanced around himself. Yes, this was number 12 Grimmauld Place where he had spent last summer. But it couldn’t be because he knew Sirius had died, and yet the man was standing right there, his long dark hair hanging over the face that still slightly resembled a dog’s.

Harry wanted to rejoice, to run up to his godfather and hug him, to assure himself that Sirius was here and was real. But Harry only shook his head. "No, this is a dream. It’s not really happening. Snape’s doing something to me."

"Snape?" Sirius’s head shot up, his eyes flashing. "What does that greasy bat have to do with you?"

"I was in his house, Snapdragon Manor for the summer –"

"What?" Sirius stood up, knocking papers onto the floor. "What were you doing with him? If he dared lay a hand on you, I swear I’ll kill him."

A thrill ran through Harry, and he loved the way Sirius seemed so protective of his godson, but at the same time, Harry hesitated telling Sirius how "hands-on" Snape had been. First, Harry needed to figure out what on earth was going on.

"Oh, never mind about Snape for now. So I live with you here?" he asked cautiously.

Sirius gave him an odd look, but answered, "Yes, you do. Ever since my name was cleared after that break-in at the Ministry of Magic a year ago."

"A year ago?" Harry held on to the edge of the table for balance as he digested the information. "So I’m almost 17 instead of 16? And you didn’t die that night?"

"I told you to keep out of my fire whiskey," Sirius frowned. "Of course, I didn’t die at the Ministry. I didn’t even go there. Instead I stayed here, all locked up and quiet."

Harry could barely keep from grinning. Everything was going just as he wanted. He lived with Sirius, Sirius had been freed from all charges, and Harry was about to come of age. This was perfect, except for the nagging feeling that somehow Snape was behind all of it. And knowing Snape, Harry had the feeling that there would be some kind of unpleasant lesson about to appear.

"So Snape’s not here?" Harry tentatively asked.

"No, he’s not here now," Sirius stalked over to the cabinets and pulled out a bottled with amber-colored liquid inside. "But he’ll be stopping by tonight to deliver some papers for me to look over. Apparently, the only thing I can do for the Order to sit around on my arse and read over their plans for errors."

"But you’re alive and here, and we live together," Harry tried to grin again, but he was having trouble. Sirius was looking sullen and bitter, and he had taken several long sips from his bottle. He must be having a bad day; the Order of the Phoenix was probably demanding a lot of him, considering all the papers on the table. Sirius probably was tired and overstressed.

"So," Harry took a seat at the table, "what do we do here? I mean, what are our days like?"

"You tell me," Sirius flopped down into his own chair, bottle still in one hand. "This summer is simply a repeat of last summer – stuck here with me in this lovely hole of a home. At least you get to go out every now and then. Your dear headmaster thinks it’s best if I don’t go out, keep a low profile as much as I can. Just because my name’s been cleared doesn’t mean I can show my face back in the wizarding community. Ruddy parole – can’t travel, can’t leave the country, can’t do anything but sit here and stew in this trap with that cursed house elf."

"Oh, you should get rid of him," Harry urged. "He’ll try to betray you – he doesn’t think you’re his real master because your mother didn’t like you."

Sirius looked up annoyed, but then the doorknocker began beating on the front door. A moment later, a very-displeased Kreacher came in and announced in a snarl, "Professor Snape." Then the house elf disappeared.

Harry stopped breathing as Snape came in the door. The potions master looked as he usually did – black robes and sour looks. He frowned at Harry but said nothing to him.

"Ah," Sirius sneered, "if it isn’t the git who reeks of potions. Finally found your way out of the dungeons long enough to slink over here? Or are we keeping you from torture at a Death Eater meeting?"

"Neither," Snap pulled forth a stack of papers from his robe and placed them on the table. "And I thought you would welcome a visitor considering how little you get to mix with polite society. But you always have the dogs and the rats . . ."

Sirius leapt to his feet. "Listen, Snivelus –"

"What kind of papers have you brought?" Harry interrupted, not wanting them to start fighting. Besides, he didn’t like Snape to be called that name. It wasn’t very kind of Sirius to remind Snape of what had happened.

Snape slowly turned his eyes on Harry. "Nothing for you to worry about, Potter."

"Don’t you speak to my godson," Sirius snarled. "Don’t you even look at him. He’ll save the world one day, and you’re not even fit for him to wipe his shoes on."

Harry should have felt exhilaration race through his veins for Sirius was defending him – Sirius really believed in him. But Harry only felt embarrassed. He glanced away from Snape, cheeks slightly pink and tried to pretend that he had not heard Sirius’s proclamation.

"Really?" Snape’s voice was even but skeptical. "Well, considering that Potter is to be our savior, our one saving grace from the darkness of evil, don’t you think he should be in bed now, getting his rest?"

Harry glanced back, confused.

"It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning," Snape nodded his head to the nearby clock on the wall. "He looks half-dead from exhaustion. Are you feeding him anything? He’s thinner than when he left school."

Harry was about to open his mouth and state that he was neither tired nor hungry. But he waited just a second, and he suddenly realized he was both. His eyelids felt very heavy, and some supper or even a light snack would have been quite welcomed.

"Don’t tell me what to do with my godson," Sirius ordered. "He can sleep when he wants. And there’s food in the cupboard if he’s hungry."

Snape merely raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing Sirius. Harry said nothing, but he stepped to the nearby cupboard where he remembered some food had been kept that summer he stayed with the Order of the Phoenix. The first door of the cupboard showed nothing but bare wooden shelves. Harry closed it before Snape could see inside and opened the door next to it.

A moldy loaf of bread sat on the top shelf, the next shelf held several half-empty jars of what looked like jelly, and the bottom shelf offered a hunk of dried meat and a canister of tea leaves. Harry took out the bread and one jar of jelly. He could cut off the moldy parts and have a small jelly sandwich. It would be better than nothing.

"I need to speak to Kreacher, if I have your permission," Snape said in a stiff voice.

"Have at it, and try to break your neck on the way down to the cellar," Sirius shot back.

Harry watched Snape leave before fixing himself some food. "We need to get some more bread," Harry said in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

"Again?" Sirius scowled. "I just sent that blaster house elf out for groceries last week."

Harry bit into his sandwich and nearly choked. The bread not only tasted awful, it stunk as well, and the jelly had solidified into gritty paste. Harry managed to swallow the bite in his mouth, but he put the rest of the sandwich on the plate before pushing it away.

Sirius said nothing, just kept shooting restless looks in the direction Snape had gone.

A little nagging voice whispered to Harry that he had eaten better at the Dursleys, but he silenced the voice right away. He was not going to let anything spoil the time he had with Sirius. Maybe this was a test. Snape, not the Snape that was talking to Kreacher but the other one, he was testing Harry. Perhaps he wanted to see if Harry would want to stay with Sirius even through the hard times. If so, Harry had to push on, and then Snape would bring Sirius back, and everything would be all right.

And why would Snape do a thing like that? the little voice demanded. You were in trouble for breaking into Malfoy Manor – there’s not a chance that Snape would bring your godfather back after what he said to you about dark magic.

"It’s nice staying here," Harry said, hoping that talking aloud might shut his conscience up. "Better than my – er – relatives, you know. And I’m sure it will be better than staying with Sna– I mean, someone else. And then I’ll be starting my last year of school at Hogwarts."

"I know," Sirius glumly said before taking another sip of his bottle. "And then it’s off to the Auror program with you."

"What?" Harry’s eyes opened wide.

"You know, the Auror program. Thanks to McGonagall and Dumbledore, you’ll be starting training as an Auror next fall. Traveling around, seeing new places."

"I’m sure you can leave the house by then," Harry tried to look encouraging.

"I plan to before then," Sirius growled. "As soon as you go back to school, I’m leaving. They want me to stay put for your sake, but once you’re gone, I plan to burn this place to the ground and take off."

"But you’re my guardian."

"You turn seventeen in a week. You’ll come of age, and I’m no longer responsible for you. You don’t expect me to stay here while you’re off at school for another year, do you? I’ve had my fill of that this past year, rotting away in this hole."

Harry wanted to ask how he could feel this way, how Sirius could be so careless with his own safety, and didn’t he want Harry for a ward? But Harry only said in a tight voice, "But what about Christmas?"

"What about it?" Sirius shrugged. "You came here last holidays, and we had a ruddy cold couple of weeks locked up with a stinking house elf who burnt the dinner. You’re better off at Hogwarts."

Harry was having trouble breathing. This was all wrong – Sirius was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be overjoyed that his godson could now live with him, and grateful that he didn’t die, and never wanting Harry to leave again. Not this indifference and half-hearted shrugs as if Sirius didn’t care what Harry did as long as he wasn’t a bother.

"Look," Sirius placed the bottle on the table and stared straight at his ward. "We’ve been over this before. We tried something, and it didn’t work. When I wanted you to live with me, I thought we’d be somewhere else, not in this cursed dump. I thought we could travel the world and visit your parents’ friends – but instead we’ve been locked up for two years. Well, you have a chance to get out. Go see the world, and owl me a postcard to show what I’m missing."

Sirius stared off into space, obviously too depressed to say anything else.

Harry turned in the direction Snape had gone and began walking very slowly towards the hall. He thought he might be sick to his stomach, but he resolved not to. He was going to find that potions bastard and deal with him head-on.

Snape had finished with Kreacher and was coming up the stairs when Harry stepped in front of him.

"Put him back," Harry hissed in a voice that nearly choked him.

"What?" Snape said, sneering at Harry. "Put him back where?"

"You did this, you made him different," Harry insisted. "Now, put him back."

"Potter, what are you blathering about?" Snape seemed more tired than annoyed.

"Sirius! He’s not supposed to be this way. He wanted me to live with him, he did, and I wanted to. But you’ve changed him. You’ve made him different and he doesn’t care and he would care if he was alive, so change him back."

"You’re mad," Snape announced firmly. "You’re tired and hungry, and you’ve worked yourself into a state. Move out of my way so I can go talk to your mangy godfather."

"No," Harry refused to step aside, "not until you change him to what he was like before. I know he was frustrated that summer because he was locked up, and then you baited him so he left and got killed, but now he’s back and he wouldn’t act like this."

"If you don’t stop yelling at me," Snape ground out, "I will hex you and tie you down to your bed until you regain control of your senses. I will not have you treat me so disrespectfully, Potter, regardless of your hero status or your godfather’s indulgences."

"Make it stop," Harry ordered. "Make it stop, Snape. I want it to end now."

And then Harry opened his eyes.

He was on the sofa, his arms folded over his stomach. The room was quiet, but glancing around, he saw Snape watching him from an armchair.

"Welcome back," Snape said dryly.

Harry sat up and then he lost it. He felt a rage like rushing fire take over him, and he could barely stand it. He grabbed the vase on the small table and threw it at Snape. The vase missed Snape but broke into shards of porcelain on the wooden floor.

"You sodding bastard!" Harry yelled at him, reaching for the next object on the table, a silver candelabra. "You flithy, sodding, bloody piece of dirt, I hope you rot into your stinking dungeons" – the candelabra also missed Snape, but Harry grabbed a stack of books –"I hate you, you –"

"Potter, stop this instance!" Snape thundered, but Harry was past the point of caring.

"I’m going to rip your throat out," Harry hurled the first book at him. "You did this – you changed him. I hate you, and I hope Voldemort tortures you until you beg for death, you stupid –"

Snape crossed the space between them, and Harry launched himself at the man, wanting to kill him. He wanted to tear Snape to pieces, to watch him bleed all over the wooden floor. The man would pay for what he had done.

Fists punching out, yelling obscenities, and pushing towards Snape, Harry fought like a demon. But Snape was bigger and stronger, and his coolness enabled him to counter all of Harry’s blows without getting hurt.

Before Harry was sure what had happened, he found himself pressed against Snape, his back to the man’s front, with both of Snape’s arms wrapped around his torso, pinning Harry’s arms to his side. The man’s grip was like iron, but Harry still struggled to get free.

"Let me go. Let me go and fight me!" Harry challenged, trying to squirm out of Snape’s hold.

"Stop that," Snape loosened one hand to give Harry a sharp smack on the thigh before tightening his grip. "Calm down, or I’ll hex you until you have better control of your emotions. You do not try to fight me, Potter. No, stop moving. Be still and concentrate on breathing. Calm down. Calm down, and I’ll let you go."

"You made him horrible," Harry accused.

"Who? Cedric?" Snape asked.

"No, Sirius. You changed him so I wouldn’t like living with him. That’s was what you did," Harry wondered what would happen if he sunk his teeth into Snape’s arm. Surely the man would let him go then.

"What I did?" Snape sounded confused.

"Yes, with the stupid ball thing."

"The ball had nothing to so with it," Snape said sternly. "The potion – stop struggling! – the potion was the real thing. It’s a very simple draught – it gives the patient a chance to live out their desires in real life."

"You’re lying," Harry accused.

"No, I’m not! Whatever you wanted, what you really, really desired when you swallowed the potion, you would experience that desire, but with reality as a factor. If you wanted to live with Sirius, you would experience that life as it would really be or as close as it could be to reality, not a fantasy."

"You hypnotized me with the ball thing," Harry argued.

"That was only to send you off peacefully. The potion starts to work right away, but you need to be lying down or you’ll crash to the floor. Also, if you wait for it to come and feel anxious, it makes for a very unpleasant awakening. I wanted you to be relaxed."

"You wanted me to hate him!" Harry tried one last time to wiggle out of Snape’s arms, but he knew it was no use. The man would not let him go. He would not ever let him go which was more that Sirius had done.

More than anything else, Harry wanted to believe that Snape was lying. If Snape were lying, then Sirius would not have acted like that. But Harry remembered how short-tempered his godfather had been last summer. And Sirius had run off to the Ministry of Magic. If the man had really wanted Harry as his son, surely he wouldn’t have put his own self in danger. A good guardian would have tried to be there for his ward, not run off because he was tired of sitting around. But Sirius had cared more about adventure than Harry –

Suddenly, it was all too much. Harry felt the dam breaking inside him, all his resolve crumbling into pieces. With a choking sob, all the fight left him. Tears filled his eyes, and then began spilling out. He could do nothing but stand there, held tight in Snape’s arms, and cry. It all hurt so much, finally to let grief out, the anger, the resentment – all lost in a torrent of tears.

Then Snape’s hold began to loose. The man seemed ready to step back, but Harry turned to face him. Half-blind with tears, Harry did the only thing that made sense. He wrapped his arms around Snape and buried his face in the man’s right shoulder. He prayed Snape would not push him away because if he did, Harry was not sure what he would do. Probably go completely crazy with grief. He tightened his arms around Snape and cried even harder into his robes.

And then he felt Snape’s arms circling around him, holding him up and Snape said very softly, "There, there, Harry, don’t carry on so. Pull yourself together, won’t you?" But he made no move to step away from his ward, and Harry decided that he was never going to let go of his stern guardian, never, never, ever. So, he kept crying, glad to finally stop running and stop hiding.

Gradually, Harry was aware of his sobs lessening, and his tears did not fall as fast. Yet, he would not let go.

"You really do manage to get yourself worked up over nothing entirely too much," Snape commented. "I had hoped we might make it one week without teary hysterics, but it seems everyday I must calm you down before you harm yourself."

Harry sniffed, letting Snape’s mild scolding soothe his tears away. Then he felt one hand patting his back while the other gently massaged the back of Harry’s neck. Oh, that felt so good. And he was so tired, so tired of pretending and planning. He had been so stupid – Harry saw that now.

The patting on his back continued, and Harry suddenly gave a loud hiccup. Snape chuckled lightly, a rumbling sound under Harry’s ear. "Very well, Potter, if you think you can let go of me for a few minutes, why don’t you sit on the sofa so we can talk?"

Harry finally pulled away, wiping his face quickly, but Snape kept a hand on his shoulder until Harry had settled down on the sofa. Harry turned red-rimmed eyes on Snape, and the man sighed but sat down beside his ward.

"I thought seeing your desire played out in reality might help you with your grief, not to mention your ridiculous plan, but I never thought it would upset you so. You say your godfather was horrible, if I remember correctly?"

"He didn’t want me," Harry wrapped both his arms around himself in a hug. "He didn’t want me to live with him, which I don’t think he would be like if he were here for real."

"When did he make you that offer?"

"Uh – right after the werewolf attack," Harry looked away. "When I let Peter Pettigrew get away. Sirius said someday I could live with him because, you know, I was his godson."

"So he asked you this right after all the excitement and peril of that night? You had known him a handful of hours, and he blurted out that he wanted you to come and live with him?"

"I know he meant it," Harry insisted.

"I’m sure he did," Snape agreed solemnly. "But he had been in Azkaban for twelve years – that kind of imprisonment will change a man. He was not the man your parents knew. I’m sure he hated any kind of prison, even having to stay in his own house."

"And you goaded him into going out," Harry blamed.

"Your godfather and I did exchange words, but that had nothing to do with you," Snape admonished. "He liked to live for the moment – he enjoyed the action and adventure more than following rules or safety measurements. A part of you must have known that, or your dream would have been different."

Harry wanted to argue, but he didn’t have the strength so he settled for pouting. Yet, again Snape was right. Harry thought he was starting to see a pattern. Most unfair.

"I wanted you to be able to see that our desires and even deepest wishes of our hearts usually do not have any place in reality," Snape continued. "You had an idea of what it would be like if your godfather were alive and well. The reality of the situation would never meet your expectations. You could have fanaticized what it would be like living with your parents and have pictured a wonderful life with them as well, but that would not have been true either."

"My mum and dad would have wanted me!" Harry declared hotly.

"Absolutely, but there would have been times you would have argued with them or times you disobeyed them and they had to punish you. The truth is that even happy families fight and argue, and yours would not have been an exception. But you only saw Sirius in your dream because you thought it much more likely that you could save him than your parents and therefore he was there. All things considered, did it help at all?"

"No!" Harry shot back crossly.

"Potter," Snape gave him a stern look.

"Fine, it helped a little. But you could have told me what was going on before I got there."

"And you could have told me about your absurd plan days ago. I still cannot believe that you tried to steal from the Malfoys. You really have no idea how closely you escaped with your life."

"I know," Harry let his breath out with a huff. "It was stupid."

Snape frowned, but said nothing. They sat there in silence as Harry sniffed a few last times and took several deep breaths.

And then, very cautiously, he asked, "Well, so, I was just wondering if, maybe you know, I could still . . . stay here?”