Inspiration had hit Severus that evening as he sat drowsing over an Occlumency textbook, planning out Potter’s first lesson. Struck by the proverbial “Lumos” in the darkness, he straightened his spine from its sleepy curve and allowed a smile to twitch across his face for a second. Every Slytherin bone in his body vibrated with the complacency that accompanied a perfect, elegant solution to a problem. This solution fit all of the constraints of the situation, it was smooth and sleek and Slytherin, it was foolproof, and it was the pinnacle of his revenge against James and Lily Potter. It was exquisite.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus said as he ushered the boy into his office, “You didn’t eat very much at breakfast.”

The boy had in fact managed to eat two slices of toast with jam and a piece of bacon and drink an entire goblet of pumpkin juice, which was progress considering his earlier eating habits. However, Severus was not prepared to be satisfied with mediocrity from one of his Slytherins. All of his other students ate with normal adolescent appetites, and some of them had the appetites of full-grown mountain trolls. Severus would tolerate no less from Potter. The boy, still all angles and lines, had put on some weight in his time here at Hogwarts, but it was hardly sufficient. Perhaps the daily potion should be increased or altered, something added to pique the boy’s appetite, perhaps orange extract would work.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the boy said. His gaze was fixed on the floor and he didn’t look up at Severus.

“I would rather see that you ate more at mealtimes than listen to tedious apologies, Mr. Potter. Have you found the nutritional supplement potion to be adequate?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy’s head was still bent down to focus his gaze on the floor and Severus scowled.

“Please do me the courtesy of looking at me rather than the floor, Mr. Potter. I don’t believe that you will find it to be a very helpful instructor in most disciplines, particularly Occlumency. As you are already aware, eye contact is vital for Legilimency and so you’ll have to overcome this inordinate fascination with the floor and actually look at me during the lesson. I’d prefer that you did so now.”

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” The boy looked up at Severus and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“You do, I hope, understand the importance of proper nutrition. It is necessary for you to eat more at meals, Harry. I know you’ve had to go without food for far too long, but here at Hogwarts you need never go hungry. Is that understood?”

Severus waited for the boy’s nod before continuing, “I told you at the beginning that I was prepared to be lenient with you for a short while but my patience is nearly exhausted. I wouldn’t like to take points from my own House or give detention, but I shall be forced to do so if you don’t put on some weight.”

The boy nodded again and Severus allowed the topic to drop, turning at last to Occlumency. It was almost time, Severus calculated, almost but not quite time to begin the execution of his plan. The child had started to relax, his posture was looser and he even leaned forward out of the safe corner of his chair, but some tension remained. Severus had to get the boy to relax further, to trust him and agree to the plan and then it would be perfect, Severus secure in his revenge.

He led Harry through a theoretical discussion of Occlumency, answering questions that the boy had from his readings and pointing out a few key issues. He waited until the child was relaxed, as calm and focused as he was when brewing a potion, and then he began the first step in the plan. Gentle and smooth like velvet, calm and risking nothing, Severus watched the son of James Potter as he said, “Harry, I am willing to give you these lessons in Occlumency because I understand like none other the importance of keeping your privacy inviolate. Moreover, the potential involvement of the Dark Lord does worry me and measures need to be taken to ensure that all students are safe.” He kept his voice as calm as it had been during their theoretical discussion. “I think, though, that you must be aware that this represents a significant investment of time and effort for me and you must also be aware that nothing comes without a price.”

There it was, the bait to the trap out in the open between them. Harry drew his knees up to his chest and stuttered when he said, “S-sir?” but the reaction was not as bad as Severus had feared it would be. Harry’s probable background was such that Severus would be surprised if the notion of indebtedness didn’t bring a negative reaction and he was glad that he’d waited until the boy was relaxed instead of springing it on him immediately. It was Slytherin intuition at its finest, he congratulated himself, much like his devious plan.

Continuing before the child could work himself into a fright, Severus said, “In return for my time and effort, I think it would be appropriate if you repaid me in the same coin.” He kept his voice calm and soothing with an effort of will, this close to success. “Just as we came to an agreement earlier this year, a secret kept in return for a secret kept, we’ll balance the scales now. For every hour that I spent teaching you Occlumency at your request, I want you to spend an equal amount of time with me, learning what I request.”

“Wh-What would that b-be, sir?” the boy asked, his lips pale.

“We’d cover a variety of topics, mostly a survey of wizarding culture, elocution lessons to cure you of your stuttering and lessons in deportment to see you acting like a proper Slytherin. This is a favor to me because I would be most upset if one of my Slytherins were to bring disgrace upon Slytherin House, do you understand?” With guilt pressing in on two fronts, Severus was certain he had the boy.

“I-I’m a disgrace?” the boy asked, his lip trembling as he leaned backwards in his chair.

“No, no,” Severus said. That was the last thing he wanted the boy to think. “No, you aren’t a disgrace at all. You’re a first year student and not expected to know any more than you do, but your fellow classmates are picking this up from the older students and you seem to be too shy to spend much time with them. I’ll just be teaching you some of what they’re learning.” He didn’t mention that the things Harry needed to learn were taught to most pureblood Slytherins as soon as they could flick a practice wand. There was no need to further encourage the boy’s inferiority complex.

“I – won’t that be a l-lot of work for you too, sir?”

Severus shook his head, strands of dark hair falling across his eyes. “It’s for the honor of Slytherin House,” he told Harry.

It was for his revenge against James and Lily Potter, the sweet knowledge that he had trained the boy in every facet of wizarding culture, had influenced his views and behavior, that he, the despised and ugly Slytherin was more of a parent to their darling boy than they ever could be. It was the sweetest, purest revenge, stealing their son’s mind. He’d stolen their son in body already, feeding him when the pious followers of Dumbledore’s pretty philosophies were blind and willing to let the boy starve. Now he stole Harry from James and Lily Potter in body and mind, feeding them both and laying a peculiar claim to the boy that they, having abandoned the boy to this fate, could not contest from beyond the grave.

Harry would be fed and taught because of Severus, who could see clearly that Dumbledore and the other fools who’d called themselves friends of the Potters were willing to let the boy wallow in his ignorance of the world in which he was born to live. Severus would feed his body, nurture his mind, answer his questions, soothe him and guide him and help him where James and Lily Potter could not. The Sorting Hat had put Harry in Slytherin and Severus was determined that the boy would be a credit to his House. The stutter would be gone, replaced by the self-confidence and knowledge that was a Slytherin’s birthright and it would be Severus and not the Potters who effected this change. The taste of revenge was sweeter to Severus’s soul than Dumbledore’s candies were to the tongue, and he reveled in it.

He would persist in his revenge. He was more than capable of ignoring the emotions that nagged at him, the pity for an orphan, an abused boy, the admiration for a Slytherin who was strong enough to ignore that background and succeed at Hogwarts, the tightness he had felt in his throat when he’d thought that Harry had betrayed him, the thrill that tickled at his breastbone when he saw Harry eating in the Great Hall and knew that Harry was eating because Severus had urged him to do so. A Slytherin knew how to prioritize and Severus knew that his revenge was more important than any emotions. This revenge would quiet the corner of his mind that still whimpered from the ringing taunts of the Marauders, the part of him that was still ashamed and flinching and uncertain. He was no longer a victim of James Potter’s taunts or pranks, no longer the recipient of Lily Potter’s pretense at compassion, and their restless spirits would know it.

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Severus appreciated the innumerable blessings that were to be found in silence … the cool damp silence of the dungeons, hedged in by walls thick enough to be sound-proof and brat-proof, the still air with its almost tangible moisture that soothed his dry skin from the ravages inflicted on it by toxic potion fumes … but never did he appreciate it so much as after the departure of Harry Potter from their lessons that Saturday. On countless occasions Severus had taken refuge in his office and built himself a cathedral of silence that arched far above his pounding headache, bolstered by his Occlumency, after a long day of futile attempts to inculcate knowledge into empty student heads. He had appreciated silence then, but today … today he reveled in it, needing it like a wizard needed air and magic.

It was not that Harry was an inattentive pupil, an impertinent irreverent child or a careless dunce, for Harry was nothing like the usual Hogwarts student. It was not that the lesson had gone badly. Severus acknowledged stark reality even when it was unpleasant and knew that he often spent hours speaking to stone walls, not a single word registering in the empty brains of the nitwits he taught, whereas Harry was a teacher’s dream, attentive and respectful and willing to ask intelligent questions. They had made more progress with Occlumency than Severus had thought possible for a frightened first year. The subtleties, the mental acuity, the magical strength, the force of will required to successfully practice Occlumency, these were beyond the average child and Severus doubted that any first year other than the bloody Boy Who Lived would have accomplished what Harry had.

As resourceful as the boy was, as strong and talented and determined, there was no chance that he would master Occlumency at his age. The thought that Quirrell, with some connection to Voldemort, would still be able to rifle through the boy’s memories at will … Severus needed this silence. He needed this silence to forget the sticky, polluted feeling that crept under the walls of his Occlumency when he discovered the faint touch of Quirrell’s Legilimency on Harry’s mind, a taint floating on the surface like iridescent drops of oil shimmering on a still puddle of water. The feeling was reminiscent of Voldemort’s touch on his own mind and Severus could no longer hope that the boy had imagined the pain in his scar. Voldemort was connected to Quirrell and Severus had a stark unsettling premonition that there would be suffering before this came to an end.

If he did not alter his behavior toward Harry, the Dark Lord would discover evidence of his disloyalty in Harry’s mind, whereas if he did alter his behavior … no, it was unthinkable. If Severus turned on the boy, subjected him to cruel taunts and insults, it would have the worst possible effect on the boy’s blossoming trust, the worst possible effect on Severus’s blossoming revenge. It was unthinkable, even in the arching cathedral of silence that Severus had built up around him, the safety and dampness of his dungeon.

Severus also needed this silence to forget the hour spent after Occlumency on correcting Harry’s stutter. The empty obliging air of the dungeons could leech the stuttering from his brain with some curious osmotic process, removing from his memory the sounds that had grated on his ear. Severus wondered again at the boy’s Sorting, for surely the Hat must have seen something to justify putting the boy in Slytherin, something that Severus did not yet see. Potter acted like a timid Ravenclaw more than anything else – he occasionally showed flashes of Slytherin behavior, but on the whole he was too fragile now. Severus brushed aside his long greasy hair and rubbed at his temples, wondering what further penance would be set him for his sins, wondering how he could complete his absolution when he was set these impossible tasks.

The silence, the peace that Severus craved and needed, was broken by a knock on the door. “Draco?” Severus asked, suppressing his annoyance, when his godson entered the office, “aren’t you supposed to be at the Manor this weekend?”

His godson’s cultured accent, though not the silence Severus needed, stood out in blessed contrest to Harry’s pathetic stutter. Severus frowned when he realized that Draco was carrying out his “perfect pureblood aristocrat” mask, with his emotions repressed and civility brought to the forefront to replace them. It was a sure sign that Draco was troubled. The more emotion he showed, the less emotion he felt … the more emotion he felt, the more he masked it.

After moving through the traditional greetings and courtesies like a well-bred automaton, Draco answered the question. “I did go home for my counseling session,” he admitted, “but I felt that I ought to return to watch over Harry.”

“Something is bothering you, Draco, and you know that I know it. You can play the role of perfect Slytherin Prince with your peers, but you’ll need at least twenty more years of experience at it before you can begin to fool me.”

Draco bowed his head for a moment in acknowledgement, studying his manicured hands. When he looked up at Severus again, the pureblood aristocrat mask was gone and Draco looked like an uncertain eleven-year-old child. “She let him torture me,” he said. “My mother – she knew what he was doing. Sometimes he even made her watch, and still she did nothing.”

“Draco,” Severus began.

“No, Uncle Sev,” his godson interrupted him. The child ran a hand through his fine hair, the color and luster of white gold shining in the bright office lights. “I’ve discussed it with the counselor and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She did what she thought was best and I’m sick of hearing it, okay? Let’s talk about Harry, it’s much more important.”

Severus drew on a decade of experience as Head of Slytherin House to give a comforting answer. “He’s not any more important than you are, Draco, and the fact that Narcissa did what she thought was best doesn’t change anything. She was frightened and intimidated by Lucius but that is no excuse. It doesn’t change the fact that it was wrong of her to stand by and watch and it doesn’t change the fact that you have every right to be angry with her. Do you understand?”

The emotionless mask was firmly on Draco’s face again. “I said I don’t want to talk about it right now,” was all he said.

The two of them stared at each other for a few long moments before Severus broke the tension by summoning a house elf for tea.

“Uncle Sev,” Draco said as he reached for the sugar bowl, “you are aware that Harry is still sleeping in the closet rather than in his bed?”

“I … had not given it much thought,” Severus admitted. If it was not for his revenge, James Potter’s son could have slept in an iceberg without causing him any pangs of conscience, but the boy was the key to his revenge. Revenge against James and Lily Potter was becoming more intricate and complicated than Severus had ever imagined it to be. He had initially thought, before the boy had been Sorted into Slytherin, that his revenge would consist of cruelty to the boy, torturing James Potter by torturing his son, and instead he had found in the son of his enemy a frightened child, one of his own whom he was obliged to protect and who could further his desire for a more complete revenge. He had been willing to let his vengeance consist of the oversight of Harry’s physical well-being, making sure that he was nourished properly, but it had spilled over to the boy’s lessons, making sure that he was educated, and now Draco was asking him to take another step, to care for the boy’s emotional well-being.

Severus watched his godson, trying to see past the mask that Draco wore and divine his intentions. Draco had always been a spoiled child and this recent shift in behavior, avoiding discussions with his godfather to deal with the abuse suffered at Lucius’s wandpoint and focusing on Potter’s recovery from abuse, was troubling. Severus wanted to believe that the revelation of the abuse that he had suffered and forcibly forgotten had been enough to open Draco’s eyes to Lucius’s true self, to the consequences of similar actions. He wanted to believe that Draco’s interest in Potter was selfless and good, but he had too many memories of a selfish Draco, a Draco that focused on a new expensive toy for a few weeks before abandoning it. If Draco were to abandon Potter after having gained his trust, it would set back Potter’s recovery considerably.

Hiding his confusion and lingering apprehensions with a faint sneer, Severus said, “As I recall, we’ve been more preoccupied with ensuring that the brat had enough to eat. Malnourishment is more serious than the lack of a comfortable bed.”

“Harry doesn’t believe that he deserves to sleep in a bed, Uncle Sev,” Draco replied. “Don’t you think that dealing with his low self-esteem is as important is getting him to eat properly? How is he supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world if he stutters and is afraid of everyone around him? He has to learn that he’s the equal or better of everyone else if he’s going to survive here.”

Draco took a dainty sip of his tea, setting the cup down precisely in the center of its saucer. “Besides, if we can get him to sleep in the bed, he might stop using it for other purposes.”

“Other purposes?” Severus echoed, and mentally reprimanded himself for sounding like a brainless parroting first-year student.

With a nod, Draco said, “Apparently Harry hasn’t quite gotten the idea of regular meals yet. I don’t know if he thinks that someday there won’t be any meals served in the Great Hall or if he thinks that somebody will find him unworthy of eating there, but he’s taken precautions against it.”

Severus stared at him for a long moment and so Draco continued, a smirk flitting across his face at the surprise openly shown by the Potions Master. “He’s got it set up very cleverly, in fact. It’s the sort of thing he does that reminds me that he’s a Slytherin and not a Ravenclaw with a penchant for green scarves. He’s put preserving and stasis charms on all of the food so that it doesn’t spoil, and keeps it under the sheets of the bed. He asked me, ever so politely, if that empty bed was being used for anything and he didn’t start his cache until I assured him that it was in fact his bed.”

Severus opened his mouth to comment but Draco hadn’t finished his story. “Do you know the best part, Uncle Sev? He’s got a concealment charm on them during the day and it’s set to turn off at curfew. With the food arranged under the covers, it looks almost like there’s a boy sleeping in that bed.”

Severus took a long drink of his tea, grimacing when he realized that the liquid was now lukewarm. “You haven’t tried to convince him to sleep in his bed?”

“I did try, of course, but now I’m not sure that he wants to give up his cache of food. I really think that you should talk to him about it, Uncle Sev. He trusts you and I think this situation will require all your Slytherin cunning to convince him. After all, just as you pointed out, I won’t be Slytherin enough to fool you for another twenty years at least.”

The manipulation was blatant enough that Severus could have avoided it and forced Draco to deal with the problem, but in this case he supposed that his godson had a point. “Very well, Draco, I’ll speak with him, but you’d best accompany him for the rest of the weekend since you’re back. Make sure that he eats properly and finishes all of his homework.”

Wrapping himself in the comfort of his cathedral of silence after Draco had left, Severus wondered how revenge on James and Lily Potter had turned him into a worried, nagging mother. Their spirits would pay for this, he vowed. They would regret all of the pain that they had caused him when they saw that Harry, their beloved son, who was hurt and fragile and gave his trust so hesitantly, trusted their old school enemy.

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Severus groaned when another knock came at the door to his office. It seemed as though he was destined to have no rest, none of the peace and quiet that he needed, on this particular Saturday. He blinked with surprise and called a house elf for another tea tray when he realized that his visitor was Narcissa Malfoy.

If only tea wasn’t required to soothe his frightened students and welcome his adult visitors, he reflected, he wouldn’t feel as though his insides were swimming. It was small wonder that the colonists had decided to throw over the British government and toss their tea into the ocean … if they had felt a tenth of the animosity that Severus had toward tea at this very instant, it was a more than understandable course of action. Of course, Severus didn’t need to despise tea to understand the rebellion. He had understood it when he read that the British Ministry of Magic had insisted on charging ten galleons for each imported unicorn hair. Even if unicorns weren’t native to North America, that was no reason for Potion Masters from that continent to be deprived of the resources necessary to create many essential potions.

Dismissing the train of thought, he poured Narcissa a cup of tea and passed her the sugar and lemon. “What brings you here?” he asked, in no mood to waste time with the customary pleasantries.

“You never change, Severus,” Narcissa said with a small smile. She stirred the sugar into her tea and took a sip before continuing. “Draco has told you everything, I assume, about Lucius and what he did. I’m here to ask a favor of you.”

The admission was unusual for a Slytherin like Narcissa and Severus allowed a twitch of his eyebrows to convey his surprise.

“Lucius is contesting the divorce. He can’t bear the fact that I took Draco’s love from him when I gave him the Souvienieve. You know how he is, Severus … it’s strange that I was the one named after Narcissus when it would have suited him so much better. He needs to feel that the world loves him as well as he loves himself, that self-centered, self-absorbed …”

Severus interrupted her with a sharp wave of his hand. “Let’s not allow ourselves to be distracted with musings on Lucius’s character flaws, Narcissa. As numerous as they are, we would be here all afternoon and I do have papers to grade today, you know. Tell me what favor you are asking of me.”

A corner of Narcissa’s mouth turned down at his bluntness but she continued without protest. “He’s claiming that Draco is of the age where he needs a strong male presence in his life, to guide his development in his teenage years. I have … I have submitted the Souvienieve and testified about the abuse that I witnessed, but you know how much money and influence Lucius has. I would be much obliged to you if you would consent to act as a parental figure for Draco so that I could counter Lucius’s objection in court.”

Severus slipped behind his Slytherin mask, watching Narcissa fidget with her tea spoon with cold eyes. “I assume that I can call upon you for a reciprocal favor if I agree to this?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said without hesitation and he reached across the table to clasp her hand, sealing the bargain.