Snape ushered his charges up the stair case to their classroom feeling the anticipation of the holidays already prickling within him. Traditionally the last days of term in the dungeons was spent on cleaning, an activity certain to bring a groan to the lips of every student, and a glint to the eye of their professors.

Snape could hardly wait.

Pushing open the door he let the excited children into the classroom and lounged against the door jamb in an almost relaxed manner. Today would be the last day he'd have to see Lupin in a while as well.

It was going to be a good day.

"Ah, boys," Lupin greeted from his desk. He glanced up at the clock. "You're early."

Harry and Neville exchanged conspiratorial glances and rushed forward.

"We have presents for you!" Harry exclaimed.

"Because it's the last day of term," Neville added helpfully, pushing his parcel forward.

"And we made them ourselves!" Harry finished, holding up a clumsily wrapped package and laying it on the desk.

Lupin gazed from one to the other of them, a gentle smile blossoming on his face. "How very kind," he said softly.

Neville beamed and Harry's chest swelled as he smiled proudly. "Open them," he suggested.

Lupin held out his hand and hesitated. "Which one first?" he wondered.

Neville was quickest, sliding his small envelope across the neat desk top. "Mine!"

Harry bit his lip in impatience, hopping from one foot to the other as Lupin admired the hand printed paper and carefully undid the string. Finally he revealed a snowy rectangle of card with a blue ribbon dangling from it.

"It's a bookmark," Neville said shyly and Lupin smiled and gently stroked the ribbon.

"So I see. It's wonderful."

Neville blew out a relieved breath and grinned happily. "I drew the picture," he explained. "It's a picture of you reading a book under the beech tree."

Lupin studied the drawing, looking impressed. "It looks just like me," he remarked. "Look, Severus, Neville's painting has improved tremendously."

Snape nodded agreement. He was in a position to study Neville and Harry's artwork every day, indeed he had a hard time avoiding it.

"Open mine, open mine," Harry moaned, almost vibrating with anticipation.

Obediently Lupin undid the thick string and the paper fell away to reveal a small stoppered jar.

"It's a healing potion!" Harry burst out. "I made it all by myself. Although daddy helped," he added swiftly.

Lupin looked from the jar to Snape who inclined his head slightly. "It was Harry's first brew," he admitted. "And it's an extremely effective healing balm."

"I thought you might like it 'cos you get bruises and things all the time," Harry said innocently. "And quite often you look poorly."

Snape winced a little. "Harry, what have I told you about making personal remarks?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not being rude," he insisted. "I'm just splainin' why I thought he'd like it." He turned to Lupin. "You do like it, don't you?" he asked anxiously.

"Very much," Lupin said huskily. "I like both presents very much and they'll both be immensely useful."

Harry nodded and slanted his father a smug glance. "See, daddy?," he said. "Mr Lupin knows I wasn't being rude."

"All the same," Snape murmured, not wanting to get into one of Harry's interminable arguments in front of Lupin. "Please try to refrain from making any personal comments in future."

Harry opened his mouth as if to argue the point anyway, when mercifully the bell rang and the boys rushed to their seats.

"Severus," Lupin called as Snape turned to go. "A moment, if you please."

Snape waited impatiently at the door. "Yes?"

The tutor ushered him onto the landing and half closed the door behind them. "Harry has mentioned to me a few times that you're taking him to see dragons over the summer holidays."

"So?"

"Well is it true? Harry being Harry I took it with a grain of salt, but-"

"My son doesn't lie," Snape said silkily and Lupin frowned.

"Please, Severus, I'm not looking for a fight with you, not today. I'm not saying Harry would lie, the boy's much too open and guileless for that. I just meant he does get the occasional flight of fancy now and then."

Snape sighed. "Fine, I accept your apology. Now, was there a question in there somewhere, or are you just enjoying wasting my time?"

Lupin set his jaw. "Are you taking Harry to see the dragons?" he asked grimly. And before Snape could remind him that it was none of Lupin's business what he did with his son the tutor rushed on. "Because I'm just wondering who else Harry has mentioned this to? Do you really think it's safe to leave Hogwarts with him?"

Impatiently tapping his fingers against his side Snape decided on the short version of his speech. Lupin wasn't worth wasting too much breath on.

"Mind your own business," he said curtly. Then, pleased at the immensely offended look he'd caused on Lupin's face, he nodded politely and sauntered down the stairs.

Yes, it was going to be a very good day.

888

Fudge laid the last parchment aside with a sigh.

"Can't thank you enough for this, Dumbledore," he said happily, pulling out a large spotted kerchief and wiping it over his forehead. "Those cursed goblins have been making my life a misery since these negotiations started."

"I'll think you'll find, Minister," Dumbledore said genially. "That goblins, like most folk, respond best to honesty and courtesy."

Fudge tried to keep the incredulity off his face, contenting himself with a grunt and a nod.

"Either way." He smiled gratefully. "I'm glad to get these contracts sorted before term ends. I expect you'll be winging off somewhere exciting, ey?" Without bothering to wait for a reply he rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Now, how about that spot of tea?"

"Of course," Dumbledore murmured, waving his wand languidly. A tea tray appeared, spinning gently before landing on the table. "Macaroon?"

"Don't mind if I do."

"I'll play mother, shall I?" the headmaster offered, pouring tea into two wafer thin cups and adding a swirl of milk to each. "Two sugars, wasn't it?"

Fudge accepted his tea and sat back with a sigh, contemplating an afternoon's work well done. It was certainly handy to be able to come to Dumbledore for help, satisfying too considering how galling it was that the man had been offered the job and turned it down.

Fudge glanced around the cramped tower room, sneering inwardly. Imagine turning down the Minister for Magic job to stay in this place? It was unbelievable and sometimes, just now and then, Fudge didn't believe it. Sometimes he even wondered if old Dumbledore didn't have reasons of his own for wanting to stay here...

The thought reminded him of something and he reached into his jacket pocket.

"I say," he exclaimed. "I quite forgot. Your latest letter about young Harry Potter." He straightened it out and examined it again.

"Yes?"

"Well, see here, Dumbledore," Fudge said carefully. "I've been patient about this, you can't say I haven't. Sat on my hands and let you handle it for the last six months, figured you knew best. But I'm not at all sure I can do that any more. I've had folk questioning me about this, some quite important folk. About the boy's muggle family and their treatment of him mainly. Couldn't you have got him away from the muggles a bit more discreetly, old chap? Caused a bit of a brouhaha, didn't it?"

"A small stir perhaps," Dumbledore admitted easily. "But no harm done. No danger to our world at any rate."

"Well, perhaps, perhaps." Fudge smoothed the folds in the creased paper absently. "But there are still questions to be asked. Why did you send him off with muggles anyway? And who's this youngster claiming to be his real father now? I've had reports that he's a bit... unsavoury."

Dumbledore raised a brow. "From whom?" he enquired politely.

Fudge felt himself flushing and fought it back with irritation.

"Not at liberty to say," he said shortly. "Looked into him myself, of course. No criminal record."

Dumbledore smiled. "Hardly! I'm sure your investigations discovered an ex pupil of this school who achieved distinctions and broke records with his results. And who went on to become a fine potion maker."

"Yes, werewolf brews and suchlike," Fudge dismissed scornfully. "Hardly the kind of work a respectable brewer would concern himself with!"

Dumbledore placed his tea cup on its matching saucer, eyes sober. "You don't think so? Helping the afflicted with what is, after all, a horribly painful disease..."

"Well of course I see the merit in it," Fudge said hastily. "Citizens protected from werewolf attacks and what not. Still..." Fudge sought for words. He hated the way the headmaster still made him feel like he was standing before him in a classroom again, being dressed down for some infraction. "There's this sordid business over who fathered who. Really, couldn't he have let the Potters rest in peace? They were heroes after all, and stirring up old tales about affairs and the like seems a bit beyond the pale now, don't you think?"

"I think James and Lily are dead," Dumbledore said frankly. "And they would care less for their reputations if it meant their son was being taken care of."

"Ah, but he wasn't 'their' son, was he?" Fudge pounced. "That's the point! I don't mind telling you, Dumbledore, it's got folk stirred up. Besmirching the name of the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"I fail to see how Harry's name could be besmirched by events that took place before he was born," the headmaster said in amusement.

"Do you?" Fudge asked cynically. "Well, excuse me for saying so, headmaster, but you haven't had much contact with the actual voting public now, have you? To them young Harry Potter is a bit of a legend, and they don't like their legends being trampled on." He hesitated then plunged on, encouraged by Dumbledore's thoughtful little nod. "It's been suggested to me that perhaps the Ministry ought to step in and take a hand. Make sure the boy's all right, sort of thing. Er, what do you think?"

"I think it's a fine idea," Dumbledore said agreeably. "Then you can go back and let, er, folk know that everything is well in hand. Harry is with his father and quite happy."

Fudge was taken aback by the quick agreement. "Glad you agree," he said in pleased surprise. "Um, bit of a delicate question here. Are you quite sure this Snape is who he claims to be? The boy's, er, natural father I mean. After all, Dumbledore, there are unscrupulous folk out there who might try to benefit from connecting themselves with famous Harry Potter."

"Hard to believe," Dumbledore murmured blandly.

Fudge leaned forward. "Indeed it is!" he agreed. "And yet it's true. Now this Snape, I'm assuming you've performed the standard paternity charm on him?"

"Of course."

Fudge nodded. "And no one's doubting you know your stuff," he said earnestly. "But as you said yourself the young fellow is a master brewer. Isn't it possible that he might have managed to falsify the results somehow...?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Of course, anything's possible," he admitted.

Fudge sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

"Except I heard it from Lily's own lips," Dumbledore continued.

Fudge froze. "You what?" he stuttered.

Nodding confirmation the older wizard expanded. "The day I went to warn them they were being directly threatened by Voldemort."

Fudge winced at the name.

"I had my suspicions earlier, you see," Dumbledore went on. "Lily confirmed them that day. Severus Snape was Harry's biological father." He fixed Fudge with one of his piercing gazes. "And there was nothing sordid about it, Minister. Lily herself assured me of that."

Fudge took this in, mouth agape. "Nothing sordid?" he sputtered. "It all sounds pretty sordid to me! And now this young fellow is raising Harry Potter?"

"Harry is being raised by his father," Dumbledore agreed.

"Well it all sounds very fishy," Fudge said huffily. "Very fishy indeed. I think I better meet this fellow then, and see for myself what's going on here!"

"Of course," Dumbledore murmured again. "May I finish my tea?"

888

"I don't remember this tower," Fudge panted a little as he climbed behind the headmaster up the winding staircase.

"It wasn't in use when you attended the school." Dumbledore paused outside a classroom. "It's been recently renovated." He quietly pushed the door open and the two wizards were treated to the sight of two small boys sitting studiously at their desks, heads bent over their books. Their teacher looked up and rose to his feet.

"Headmaster," he greeted, looking politely surprised. "How nice to see you."

"Mr Lupin." Dumbledore entered the bright classroom and Fudge followed, taking in the wide open windows, safely barred against accidents, letting in a warm summer breeze. Between the windows on the rough brick wall brightly crayoned pictures were fastened, fluttering a little in the draft. A table was set up at the back of the room, covered with rocks and leaves and tree bark with fungus and mushrooms sprouting at odd angles. Something stirred in a gloomy fish tank.

"May I introduce you to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic?"

Mr Lupin extended a hand and Fudge shook it heartily. "Nice classroom you have here," he said genially. "Reminds me of my first class when I was a youngster. Madam Mirkin's Grammar School," he said reminiscently. "Quite a terror with a ruler, was dear Madam M!"

Lupin smiled politely. "The boys have been going over their mathematics," he murmured, gesturing to the board where some simple sums were written.

Fudge turned and smiled genially at the two curious faces turned to him. "Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, reaching out a hand and then realising the absurdity of offering to shake a child's hand. He finished by tousling the boy's hair instead. "Nice to meet you at last!"

Harry lifted a hand to his hair and smoothed it, looking surprised. "Hello," he said cautiously.

"And this is Neville Longbottom, Minister," Dumbledore said smoothly and Fudge flicked a quick glance at the other child. "He and Harry take lessons together. You might know his grandmother?"

But Fudge wasn't a politician for nothing, he had already recognised the name and was beaming brilliantly. "Course I do, course I do!" he said jovially. "A fine old family, the Longbottoms. And how apt that the boys should be educated here together, ey?"

"I thought so," Dumbledore acknowledged.

"May we help you, headmaster?" Lupin asked curiously.

"Don't mind us," Fudge said airly, waving a hand in dismissal. "I was just curious to see how young Harry's getting along here." He slanted another glance at the boy, eyes drawn once more to that famous scar. "After all, everyone in our world is concerned for him, and wondering how he is."

Harry frowned and glanced at Neville, who frowned and shrugged back.

"Excuse me," Harry said politely. "But I can't see the board, sir. If we don't get our sums done then Mr Lupin won't take us down to run our race."

Fudge skipped back nimbly, smiling again. "What a keen student!" he remarked. "And what race is this?"

"It's the last day of term so we thought we might spend our afternoon playing games outside," Lupin explained. "Harry likes to run races, although Neville prefers to play catch."

"Sounds like fun," Fudge agreed. "How many sums are left to do, I wonder? Surely the boys have had their heads stuffed with enough for one year, ey? Why don't we call it a day and all walk down together. I admit I'd like to see the boys at play. What do you say?"

Harry and Neville looked hopefully at their tutor, who smiled and nodded.

"Yay!" Harry exclaimed.

"Close your books and put them in your desks, boys," Lupin said firmly as the child made to jump off his chair.

Dutifully the boys tidied their desks as they did every day and then they rushed to the door, where they stopped and stood, politely if impatiently waiting for the adults to catch up.

"You won't forget your presents, will you, Mr Lupin?" Neville reminded him anxiously and Lupin bestowed a kind smile.

"I shall return to class later, Neville, to pick up my things. And I have to fetch Grindy from his tank as well." He laid a hand on each of their heads and they smiled up at him, eyes shining. "Remember no running on the stairs."

They nodded enthusiastically before holding hands and preceding the adults out the door.

"You seem to have them well in hand, Mr Lupin," Fudge complimented as the two boys walked sedately down the winding stairs. He flicked the young man a curious glance. "Not to be indelicate, but who pays you? Mrs Longbottom or Mr Snape?"

"Neither," Dumbledore interjected smoothly. "Remus is employed by me. He assists me occasionally."

In what capacity? Fudge wondered.

888

In the sunlight the boys lost their sedate demeanor and Lupin let them run amok for a few minutes before calling them into lines and arranging them side by side. He counted down and them called out for them to go, standing back and chuckling as Harry took off like a bull at the gate. Neville puffed to keep up and Harry turned, craning his head to see his opponent over his shoulder.

This was his undoing as he tripped on a rough spot and tumbled over.

Fudge leaned forward in concern but Harry was laughing and Neville puffed past him and crossed the line Lupin had drawn in the air with his wand, holding up his hands and grinning.

"How many times have I told you not to turn around?" Lupin chided and Harry shrugged and jumped up. Neville jogged back to him and punched him on the arm and Harry threw his arm around his shoulder and they chuckled.

"They never do finish a race properly." Lupin confided fondly. "But Harry insists on competing just the same."

"And how is young Harry as a student?" Fudge asked curiously.

"Eager." Lupin smiled. "He'd rather be drawing than writing, or playing than reading or doing just about anything than maths! Like most five year olds I imagine. Neville's no different."

Fudge frowned in disappointment. "But surely he shows great promise?" he urged. "A prodigy?"

Lupin raised his brow. "I wouldn't say that," he said doubtfully. "Although there's no doubt he's a wizard through and through. Both he and Neville show fine natural magic. The boys were racing down the steps last week, despite my orders, and Neville tripped and bounced all the way to the bottom. Not a scratch on him."

"Yes, yes," Fudge dismissed. "But Harry Potter? A powerful wizard in the making?"

Lupin exchanged a glance with Dumbledore and Fudge followed it eagerly. The tutor only shrugged.

"Who can say?" He glanced over at the boys. "Excuse me, time to organise some games I think."

Fudge frowned. There was something odd about this tutor. Sometimes he seemed a young man, now for instance as he smiled and clapped the youngsters on the shoulder. But at other times the light caught the grey in his hair and the lines around his eyes.

"Ah," Dumbledore murmured. "Here's Severus. He usually picks the boys up at this time of day."

Fudge turned, still frowning, and could only stare in dismay at the figure striding towards him. This was the father of famous Harry Potter?

Tall and thin, with a hooked nose and long lanky hair the man was hardly what Fudge had been expecting. Surely he was a contemporary of the deceased Potters? That would make him less than thirty, and yet he already had a almost dissipated look of cynicism about him.

Fudge was not pleased.

Dumbledore introduced them and if Fudge had been expecting any kind of guilty reaction from the man he was sorely disappointed. Snape merely held out his hand and nodded courteously.

"I might go and supervise these games," Dumbledore said genially. "Do excuse me."

Fudge was left standing by this odd fellow, unsure exactly what to say.

Did you have an affair with Lily Potter? That hardly seemed appropriate. Neither did: were you perhaps involved in some sordid three way tryst?

A better question might be: what did Lily Potter, a lovely vivacious young witch by all accounts, see in this gloomy looking chap?

Not that he was ugly or deformed in any way. But he was no oil painting either and his manner was quite surly and abrupt.

"I, er, understand you're to teach here, next year," Fudge began tentatively.

Snape inclined his head. "I am. I have already taught a few classes for Madam Bright this term," he expanded.

"And how do you like it?"

Snape looked at him blandly. "Most enjoyable."

"Ah, good, good." Fudge made up his mind. This cold fish may or may not be Harry Potter's father, but that was beside the point. The boy could do better. "I understand you're a fine brewer?" he said, feigning admiration. "A lot of people in the business speak most highly of you."

Snape didn't pretend false modesty, he merely inclined his head. "Yes."

Fudge blinked. "Well, a man should now his own worth," he allowed. "As a matter of fact I happen to know of a position opening up that might be just up your alley, so to speak. At the Ministry, in our Research division."

Snape's brows rose. "I was unaware the Ministry had a Research division dealing with potions."

"It's fairly new," Fudge admitted, not mentioning he'd just thought of it at that moment. "Fine position though, plenty of scope for discovery and invention. World class facilities, don't you know."

"It sounds fascinating."

"Do you think so?" Fudge murmured. The hook was baited, now to dangle it. "Have to get the perfect person to head it of course. Younger chap, new ideas." He slanted Snape a glance. "Interested?"

Snape turned a politely amazed look at him. "Me?" he exclaimed unconvincingly. "But I have a position here. And Harry is settled in quite nicely."

"Ah, Harry," Fudge said quickly, as if that wasn't the subject on his mind all along. A cynical expression slithered across Snape's face but Fudge didn't mind. This was turning into the kind of negotiation he understood, quid pro quo and deals across and under the table. All he had to do was offer what the other side wanted and the deal would be done.

"Harry's young," Fudge dismissed. "He can settle in anywhere. The Ministry has access to fine tutors and facilities for him. Where he'd mix with the children of our best families. Deserving of such a hero, of course."

"Of course," Snape murmured. "And me? Where would I fit into this?"

Got you! "Where ever you like, dear chap," Fudge beamed. "No doubt you're fond of the boy and would be glad to see him now and then!"

"Hmm," Snape said, lifting a long fingered hand to his chin and stroking it gently. "A tempting offer," he allowed. "But one I must decline."

"What?" Fudge looked at him, dumbfounded.

"If only I'd known of it before I settled here," Snape said regretfully.

"But it's not too late-"

"Before I'd made my deal with Dumbledore," Snape over rode him, still gazing into the distance and stroking his chin.

"Deal?" Fudge said sharply. "What deal?"

Snape turned surprised eyes on him. "Didn't he tell you?" he marveled. "Well, it's hardly my place to do so." He indicated the boys, now panting in a heap on the grass. "I should-"

"But wait!" Fudge caught his arm and held it tightly. It was remarkably sinewy under his fingers and he felt the muscles bunch and tense for a moment before Snape relaxed. "I want to hear about this deal!"

Snape considered him, head on one side. "You should talk to the headmaster," he said regretfully. "He's my employer after all, and my landlord to, come to that. I wouldn't want to offend him."

"But see here," Fudge said belligerently. "You don't have to be afraid of him, Snape. The Ministry will guarantee you protection."

Snape looked astonished. "Afraid?" he repeated. "Whatever gave you that idea? I'm grateful, Minister, terribly grateful." He frowned curiously. "Why ever would you think I was afraid? Of Albus Dumbledore?"

Fudge found himself flushing at the young wizard's polite incredulity, and he began to dislike him even more. Every smooth word out of the man's mouth sounded like it was twisted somehow. What exactly was the truth in all this?

"You could have a great future, you know," Fudge said sullenly. "Why would you choose to plant yourself out here in this old place?"

Snape looked away again, and the stiff breeze blew a lank strand of hair over his face, obscuring his line of sight for the moment.

"Harry appears to have won a race," he said coolly. "Do excuse me, Minister."

And Fudge could only stare after the greasy fellow, hands clenched in frustration.

888

"You seem troubled, Minister," Dumbledore said in concern. "Didn't seeing Harry set your mind at rest?"

Fudge sat back in the armchair and fisted his chin broodingly. "I don't see why you thought it would," he said waspishly. "Honestly, Dumbledore, that Snape fellow! He's not exactly Mr Personality, is he?"

"He has bags of personality," Dumbledore chuckled. "It's just that most of it is quite unpleasant."

Fudge harrumphed. "I'll say. Chap was polite of course, didn't put a foot wrong. But just looking at him one can tell... Well, he's hardly the sort that should be raising The Boy Who Lived!"

Dumbledore looked regretful. "Alas," he sighed. "If we could only choose our relatives as we choose our friends! But whatever your opinion on Severus Snape, Minister, I hardly think you're in a position to comment on how he raises his son. Blood lines being, as they are, sacrosanct."

Cornelius waved his hand airily. "Oh, there's ways around that," he said craftily. "If the Ministry deems it a matter of national importance, or some such thing."

Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "And does the Ministry deem Harry Potter a matter of such importance?"

Fudge clenched his teeth irritably. "Please, Dumbledore, don't be obtuse, of course they do. They must! Harry Potter... did it," he hissed. "When no one else could, when even you couldn't! He did it. He killed... You Know Who. That makes him important."

"If that is how you see it," Dumbledore agreed. "Then I suppose it would. But I fail to see how any of that matters now?"

"Of course it matters now!" Fudge exclaimed, throwing his hands up in disgust. "Because we still don't know how he did it, do we?" He paused and narrowed his eyes. "Do we?"

But Dumbledore merely shook his silvery head in regret. "We do not know what happened that night, no. But I must admit that I find your assuredness that what happened could have been of Harry's doing quite curious. Being as he was, only a baby."

Fudge blinked. "Who else could it have been? He lived and... You Know Who died. It must have been him!"

"If it was indeed a person," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Perhaps it was something Voldemort himself did, or failed to do. Or was it even something the Potters did as they gave their very lives to protect the child? Who knows?" He focused his attention on Fudge.

"But what we do know, Minister, is that Harry is a very normal little boy who shows no sign of any memory of that night. Or any extraordinary powers come to that. There's no reason to concern ourselves with him unduly."

Fudge blinked. He knew the headmaster well enough to know when one of his amiable pronouncements was more than a suggestion. "See here, Dumbledore," he said, not without a trace of nervousness. Snape's mention of a deal with Dumbledore was still very much on his mind. "Why does any of this concern you?"

Dumbledore smiled genially. "Any number of reasons," he explained with a kindly nod. "Snape is somewhat of a protégée of mine, despite his rather, er, abrupt manner. And he's an employee now, and he, like his son, call Hogwarts home."

"All the same," Fudge began but Dumbledore raised his voice, just a little and silenced him.

"And I think children belong with their parents," he finished firmly, and now there wasn't a trace of his amiable smile or genial nod. Now his eyes were quite clear and hard and direct as they gazed at him and Fudge felt that shiver again, like a schoolboy called before a stern professor.

Whatever his private opinions on the the fellow, and he had many, Fudge knew that he still needed him. Needed his advice over grave matters, needed his influence with the leaders of some of the lesser races. Needed his authority over powerful witches and wizards who still had a difficult time accepting that the Ministry of Magic could change and create rules they had lived with for over a century.

He needed Albus Dumbledore.

And he also resented him bitterly.

With a hard swallow Fudge managed to summon a smile onto his face. "Well, well," he said gruffly to hide his anger. "Of course you're right. Not like I was suggesting any different! Little Harry Potter should stay here, at least for the time being. Time will tell whether this Johnny-come-lately of a father will stay the course. Hasn't been around for the last five years, has he? Might be that fatherhood and, er, life at Hogwarts doesn't agree with him." He stood and reached for his hat, pressing it firmly on top of his head. "In that case, Dumbledore, you'll agree that the Ministry will have to step in."

Dumbledore also stood, his lined old face creasing in a smile. "Of course," he murmured. "If Severus ever tires of fatherhood I will let you know. But are you leaving so soon, Minister? I thought you were staying for the Leaving Feast?"

Fudge managed another smile, feeling this one fraying at the edges. "Like to, of course. Busy schedule, people to see, meetings and so forth. Next time, perhaps."

With a smile Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps."

888

Harry peered impatiently at the empty platters before them. "When is the food coming?" he moaned. "I'm starving."

"The children aren't all here yet," Neville pointed out. "Nor's the headmaster."

Lowering his head to the table Harry sighed dramatically. "We should of had a snack before coming down here."

"Should have," Snape corrected. "Really, Harry, what have you been learning at school all term?"

"That's my cue," Lupin said, appearing behind them and laying a hand on Harry's tousled head. "Fainting from hunger, Harry?"

The boy sat up straight and eyed his tutor with a grin. "Do you have any chocolate, Mr Lupin?" he asked hopefully.

Lupin smoothed soft black hair fondly. "Even if I did I wouldn't spoil your supper," he teased and Harry rolled his eyes and sighed again.

"As it happens I do have a small non-chocolate related gift for both of you," he said, presenting them with a book each. The thick card covers were decorated with pictures and their names; Harry's had a dragon on the front and Neville's a tawny brown owl.

"For us?" Neville said in wonder, while Harry touched long little fingers to the fierce golden dragon gracing his cover. Neville opened the book and flipped through the snowy white blank pages.

"In thanks for your fine presents this morning," Lupin explained. "Although I didn't make these, my work isn't nearly as fine as yours."

"I can paint in mine," Neville said happily, but Harry still stayed quiet, his hands now flicking through the blank book.

"What's up, Harry?" Lupin asked lightly. "Don't you like it?"

Harry lifted his head and gazed at him, slanted green eyes curiously shiny and bright. "Can I write anything I like in here?" he asked in amazement. "Or draw too?"

Lupin smiled gently. "Of course you may. It's yours, Harry. My gift to you."

"Thank you, Mr Lupin," Harry said politely. Then he turned and caught the tutor around the waist and hugged him, hard.

Lupin looked startled, lifting his hands and almost stepping back from the swift hug. He shot Snape a look and for the first time ever the Potions Master felt some stirring of sympathy within himself for his former enemy. He remembered all too well what it was like, after an adult lifetime deprived of touch, to have Harry's thin little arms wrapped around you, to have Harry's needy little heart reach out to ensnare you.

Harry pulled back and grinned, seeming now at ease. "I have presents from four people now," he said cheerfully. As he began to count them off on his fingers Snape watched Lupin from the corner of his eye. The tutor was regaining his composure, trying to recapture his easy smile from earlier.

"My daddy," Harry reported, bending one finger. "Perfessor Dumbledore, Mrs Weasley and now you. That's four."

"Thank you, Mr Lupin," Neville smiled and Lupin seemed to relax, smoothing Neville's soft brown hair and touching his nose gently.

"You're welcome. Both of you."

Dumbledore swept up to the table and the boys sat up straighter. "Oh, good!" Harry exclaimed. "Nearly time to eat!"

Dumbledore gave his last speech of the year, dispensing awards and merits along with the House Cup. Considering Harry's starved state he behaved quite well during the speech, only earning one glare when he poked his tongue out at Charlie Weasley and chuckled when the rude gesture was returned by half the Gryffindor table.

Finally the platters were groaning with food and Harry helped himself to a half a dozen sausages, complaining only when his father put four of them back. Waiting for the cover of the excited chatter and the sound of cutlery ringing Snape looked over at the headmaster, hoping his question would be obvious on his face and that his anxiety wouldn't.

Dumbledore immediately caught his eye and gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. Tension flowed from Snape and he sat back in his chair, relief flooding through him.

He had a dozen questions to ask the headmaster when the time was right, and a dozen more anxieties still simmering below the surface, but for now at least Fudge was gone and he'd taken his Ministry authority with him.

"Doesn't it, daddy?" Harry was asking him and Snape focused on his son. "Onions make the gravy yucky."

"I happen to enjoy onions very much, Harry," Snape said, feeling the beginnings of an appetite. He helped himself to a sausage and smothered it with onion gravy. "And don't lecture Neville, he's entitled to his likes and dislikes as you are."

"I just ignore it," Neville said placidly, forking up some sausage and dipping it delicately in gravy.

"It will be lonely here without the big children, won't it?" Harry said thoughtfully, as he forgot his objection to onions in the gravy and tucked back in.

"It will be more boring back at home," Neville pointed gloomily. "Although my Great Uncle Algy said we might go fishing. Gran would never let me go before so I've never been."

"I expect Mr Lupin will be quite lonely without us," Harry observed.

"I'm sure he'll cope," Snape murmured, remembering the party in the staff common room at lunchtime celebrating the end of the school year and the long summer holiday ahead. Madame Bright had been so cheerful about her retirement that she'd actually laughed aloud.

"But next term we'll be in Year Two," Harry said in satisfaction. "Charlie told me he got his first broom when he was in Year Two." With slanted green eyes Harry flicked a quick glance at his father and then continued as if on an entirely unrelated subject. "It's my birthday during the holidays," he said innocently. "I wonder what I'll get?"

With a snort Snape helped himself to another sausage and some veg. He had a feeling he would need all his strength for the summer holidays ahead.