A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight
Past Featured StorySummary: A letter from home sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. Spoilers for the first five books. Have fun!
Categories: Teacher Snape > Trusted Mentor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Remus
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Slytherin!Harry, SuperPower! Harry
Takes Place: 6th Year
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Neglect, Self-harm, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: A Year Like None Other
Chapters: 96 Completed: Yes Word count: 810080 Read: 1379917 Published: 28 Feb 2007 Updated: 14 Sep 2007
Family and Friends by aspeninthesunlight

"Oh, good, you came down straight away after classes," Harry said as Ron and Hermione took up their usual seats in the living room. "Um, Hermione. I don't suppose you had a chance to look up those plants I owled you about?"

"Harry, I'm shocked," Draco reprimanded him. "That's cheating."

"You didn't say it was for an assignment!" Hermione objected.

"Since when does a Slytherin object to cheating?" chimed in Ron with a glare in Draco's direction.

"I don't object to it on general principle," Draco smoothly replied, a sly little smile curling his lips. "But when it's Harry Potter? Maybe he's not quite as Gryffindor as he'd have you believe, hmmm?"

Sensing that this could quickly spiral out of control, Harry hurriedly put in, "Draco, could you floo the kitchens and get a round of butterbeers?" Then he turned to Hermione. "It wasn't for an assignment; I wouldn't do that to you. Draco's just being . . . well, never mind. So what did you find out?"

"Spells that use thyme tend to grant someone courage," she said, taking the butterbeer Draco extended toward her. Interesting that he served her first, Harry thought. Of course ladies first was the rule in the Muggle world, and maybe the Wizarding one too, but Harry was still surprised that he'd extend the courtesy to a Muggleborn girl. "Thanks," she briefly acknowledged him. "Now huckleberry, that was very interesting. It's powerfully endowed with dream magic and is used in a lot of hex-breaking potions."

"Courage, magical dreams, and hex-breaking," Harry mused, nodding.

"And pine needles ward off hunger," she added.

Harry almost wished the floor would open up and swallow him. It was really embarrassing that Draco had found out he'd been locked in a cupboard and starved. On the other hand, the wish did show that the Slytherin boy had put a fair amount of thought into the little ceremony he'd performed. Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

"After that things get very strange," Hermione admitted, frowning. "Leeks appear to have a lot to do with 'domestic industry.' Housework, I guess. And gardenias are used to communicate that somebody is your secret love--"

"What?" Beyond shocked, Harry almost spewed his butterbeer.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Draco erupted, savagely yanking the cap off his own bottle. "What kind of reference did you use, a book on Victorian flower language? We're all wizards here, in case you hadn't noticed. Leeks mean luck, not housework! And secret love, would you be serious! It's healing, all right? Gardenias represent healing!"

With that, he flopped into a chair and gave Hermione a truly fearsome glare.

"Sor-eeeee," she drawled, clearly not meaning it. "And for your information, flower language derives a lot of its meanings from the spell properties of various herbals, due to the increasing incidence in the Victorian age of wizards courting Muggles."

"Aren't you just a compendium of facts and figures," scathed Draco. "Next time Harry asks you to do his research," he transferred his glare to Harry, then back to Hermione, "you might consider actually getting it right!"

"Did she get the thyme, huckleberries, and pine needles right, though?" questioned Harry.

"Yes," Draco admitted, closing his eyes as though he was sick of the lot of them.

Ron, who had been observing silently, finally spoke. "Why don't you just tell us who's having a baby," he suggested. "I mean, that is a well-wish sitting there on the table, isn't it? You put it together and you want to make sure you did it right, Harry?"

Should have remembered that Ron would know all about the well-wishing ceremony, Harry realised. But he didn't often think of Ron as a pureblood, though of course he was one. To Harry, pureblood meant snooty and stuck-up about it, and Ron was anything but that.

Hermione wanted to know what he was talking about, so Ron took a minute to explain.

"Oh, all right," she nodded. "So who's the well-wish for, Harry?"

"Uh, let's just finish the list of plants," Harry said, feeling rather desperate. He wanted to tell them, but he didn't know how. Somehow, he'd never figured he'd have to tell them with Draco sitting right there, but he didn't feel right telling the Slytherin boy to get out, so where did that leave him? "Tea," he gasped. "What does tea mean?"

"I couldn't find any other answers, Harry," Hermione murmured.

Draco smirked a bit, no doubt thinking that Harry would still have to hit the books, but his grin faded when Ron chimed in, "Oh, that's a common one. Although I've never seen tea leaves fill the vase--a potions vial? now that's weird--like in that well-wish there. Anyway though, tea would be more courage, and also strength."

"And woodruff?"

"Well, it's a little bit crass, isn't it, but basically woodruff is a wish for money."

"Money!"

"Victory," Draco coolly corrected. "Well, actually it's used to represent both, but in this case it means victory." He looked down his nose at Ron. "Incidentally, it's only ever poor wizards who think that having money is crass."

Ron clenched his fists, his body tautening, but he managed to let the comment pass.

"So who's having a baby?" Hermione pressed. "You didn't say."

"Um, nobody, actually," Harry admitted. "I'll get back to the well-wish in a minute. First, though . . . you remember how I couldn't see you the day before yesterday?"

"Yeah, too busy to see us," Ron groused. "Not that I believed it, Harry. But Padma found out that unless this Slytherin here actually said 'come in,' or something, we couldn't! Which left Malfoy free to say whatever!"

Draco gave Harry a questioning look, the exact content clear as day to Harry's eyes. Well, here we go, it said. He's wrong about me and you know it. Not that I care what he thinks, but it should be interesting to see where you stand. With your Gryffindor friend even when he's being rude and stupid? Or will you defend a fellow Slytherin?

Funny how Draco could convey so very much with those silver eyes of his.

"Actually, I was too busy to see you," Harry admitted with a sheepish look. "Sorry, but it's true. See, I was in a conference with a casewitch from Wizard Family Services."

"Wizard Family Services?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh yeah, they'd want to place you with somebody," Ron realised. Harry noticed he didn't bother apologizing to Draco, even after he knew he'd been wrong. On the other hand, Draco had been pretty rude the other day; Harry knew that much from Dudley. "I didn't think of it before, but your aunt and uncle dying would mean you don't have a guardian. Didn't you think of asking my Mum and Dad, Harry?"

"I'm too hazardous. You don't want Voldemort dropping by the Burrow for Christmas."

"There is that . . ."

"But they put you in a foster family, is that it?" Hermione tried to understand. "Does it work like in the Muggle world?"

"Er, I don't think so," Harry admitted. "I mean, I don't know how it works in the Muggle world. I don't think Dumbledore went through Wizard Family Services for me; he just left me in a basket on the Dursley's stoop. Now, though, I guess you might say I've been . . . er, placed."

"Placed where, mate?" Ron wanted to know.

"Uh, here, actually."

"Here, Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head, braced himself for an explosion, and quietly said, "Here, Snape's quarters."

Ron paused in the middle of a swig of butterbeer. "Come again?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open, but she was still more lucid than Ron. "Here, Harry? I know Snape said you could live here until things are safer for you, but you mean he's your foster father as well, now?"

"Er, no, not exactly."

"Well, what exactly is he?" Hermione asked, her voice strident.

"Um, well . . ." Harry took a deep breath, then another.

Then another.

Then he cleared his throat.

"Oh for the love of Merlin, just tell them!" Draco finally shouted.

"It'slikethisSnapeadoptedme," Harry blurted.

Ron burst out laughing. "Sounded like you just claimed that Snape adopted you!"

"I think he did claim that," Hermione slowly said, studying Harry closely.

"Harry's not that stupid!"

"Yes, I am!" Harry shouted back, only to flush a deep red when he realised how that had come out. "I mean, it's not stupid at all, Ron!"

"Yeah, well it's sure as shite not smart, is it?" Ron spat back, jumping to his feet. "What did he do, feed you a Gullible Potion? You can't want Snape in charge of you!"

Harry stood up, too, his vision narrowing so that he barely noticed Draco doing the same. "Who says I can't?"

Hermione seemed to appear from nowhere, inserting herself in Harry's line of sight. "Maybe you should explain, Harry. You made it clear in the hospital wing that you'd got a little . . . er, attached to Snape, but you know we didn't really understand how that had come about."

"It's hard to explain," Harry admitted, frowning.

"You're Confunded, then!" Ron snarled.

"No, I'm not!"

"How do you know?" Ron took a step forward, his fists clenched. "He could have done anything to you!"

"What he did," Harry shouted, eyes blazing, "was keep my awful family history to himself, and hold my hand in the hospital, and keep me safe on Samhain, and--"

"He let his Death Eater mates use you for an effing pin cushion!" Ron screamed, hurling his bottle of butterbeer to smash against the dungeon floor.

"He kept me alive until he could get me away, you arse!" Harry screamed right back. "What did you want him to do, the noble, heroic thing? Blow his cover early? I'd be dead! Don't you get it? Dead, dead, DEAD!"

"Let's just calm down," Hermione softly recommended.

Ignoring her, Ron stomped across to Harry and put himself in his face. "Talk about attached! After Samhain he was the only one you'd let touch you! You let him put his hands all over you, rubbing in that salve all the time. And then you had to go live with him, too. Are you sure it's Malfoy you're sharing a bedroom with?"

"That's completely uncalled-for," Hermione snapped. "And it's sick! What would make you even suggest such a horrible thing, Ron? I can't believe it even occurred to you!"

"Why do you think it comes to mind? Harry here's just got more and more distant the longer he's been down here! I had a feeling something wasn't quite right. It's not like I blame him! It's Snape, it's all Snape! He spent all that time mixed up with Death Eaters, remember! They're depraved, all of them!

"Snape is not a Death Eater, and he's not depraved, you moron!" Harry leaned forward to shout the words directly into Ron's face.

"Oh yeah? Well, have you ever slept in his bed? Well, have you?"

"He hasn't, and I would know," Draco lied, twisting a disgusted lip. "Granger's right, Weasley. That's a really foul accusation."

"Oh, like I would believe anything a Slytherin has to say," Ron scathed. "I notice Harry hasn't denied it, has he, now?"

"If I have to deny that, there's nothing left to say," Harry retorted, swallowing back a rush of bile. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble, ever so slightly. Oh God, no, not wild magic, not now, Harry thought, snapping his eyes closed so he could concentrate. He tried to rein it in, to get himself under control, but he was just so furious---

Draco felt the tremor and knew the cause. "Severus adopted him because the warding spells wouldn't work otherwise," he rushed to say. "And he really needs warding, Weasley! There's already been another attempt on Harry's life. The spells wouldn't stay put unless Harry had a right to live here. If he's Severus' son, he does."

As an attempt to mollify Ron, Draco's words failed miserably.

"Con-veeen-ient," Ron sneered.

Harry saw a flash of red behind his eyes, an anger so burningly brilliant that he felt charred, but at least the floor was rock-steady again. Draco's intervention had given Harry some time to recoup what little control he might have over the violent surge of magic just itching to lash forth. It didn't, however, give him as much control over his tongue. "Just get out!" Harry abruptly ordered. "And don't come back until you're ready to do the decent thing and wish me well like Draco did! Yeah, that's right, the well-wish is mine! I'm the new child in the family! I haven't had a real parent in fifteen years---believe me, the Dursleys don't count!---so you might try being happy for me! But noooooo, you have to get all bent out of shape 'cause it's Snape--"

"Snape's the one who's bent!" Ron shrieked.

"He's my father," Harry bellowed, his anger surging back, worse than before. He could taste it, thick and coppery in his mouth, could feel a sensation like a whiplash gathering strength inside him, the violence ready to fly-- Harry tried desperately to stave it off with words. "Don't you get it? I'm lucky to have him!"

"Lucky would be if the Slytherins had enough guts to kill him like they said they would!"

The wild magic tried to loose itself again, and Harry shoved it back down, but that meant his anger had to explode in some other way. Unable to stop himself, Harry lashed out with his fist, landing a fierce blow against Ron's jaw, a blow which knocked the other boy flat on his back.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, and not just because he'd punched Ron. In his surge of fury, he'd bodily shoved her out of the way so that he could get to Ron. He hadn't been aware of it at the time, but now, seeing her half-sprawled against the edge of Snape's low table, he knew what he must have done.

Ron yanked his wand out of his pocket and began to brandish it, but before he could so much as utter a hex, Draco was standing over him, his own wand straight and steady. "Don't," was all he said.

Muttering, Ron pocketed his wand again as he lumbered to his feet. "I wasn't going to use it," he complained. "I just didn't want Harry punching me again."

"Then don't express a death-wish towards my father!"

"Shite, Harry, he's not your father! I think you really are Confunded!"

"Get out!"

"No, seriously, think about it," Ron urged, his voice not so much insulting now as earnest. "He fed you all sorts of potions cooked up special just for you, and who was helping him, I ask you? This one, here!" Ron pointed to Draco, who still had his wand levelled on him. "Slytherins, the two of them. They could have done anything to you, and you wouldn't even know!"

"I started changing my mind about Snape before I took all those potions, you dolt! Oh, what's the point? You've got it stuck in your head that Snape's the soul of evil!"

"Yeah, well he has been a black-hearted git to you for five years, Harry!"

"Yeah, that was awful how he kept Quirrell from tossing me off my broom!" Harry retorted. "And I really hated it when he Evanescoed the snake Draco conjured in our duel. And then there was the Tournament, when you so stupidly believed I actually wanted to compete, and he tried his best to get me out of it! And last year, when he alerted everybody that I'd been lured out to the Ministry building. I would so much have rather faced down Voldemort without Dumbledore to save my bacon! Yeah, that was terrible!"

"It was, seeing as he got your godfather killed!"

"Snape's not to blame for that!" Harry insisted, panting, he was so angry. "He did the right thing, the responsible thing. I'm sorry how it all turned out, more than you can know, but it's not his fault!"

"He's a Slytherin; I bet he had it all plotted out, right down to the Veil!"

"Slytherin doesn't mean evil!"

"A Slytherin killed your parents, Harry, killed your real father, or have you forgotten all about him?"

"He had help from a Gryffindor, namely your damned rat, or have you forgotten about him?" Harry retorted. "And anyway, I'm a Slytherin, too, by virtue of the adoption. So just go figure that out, why don't you? Figure out how all Slytherins can be dark wizards if the poster-boy-who-lived-hero-of-the-Light is one of them!"

"You're . . . not," Hermione quietly put in. "Not really, Harry?"

"Ha. I sure am. When I lose points, I lose half of them from Slytherin, now."

Ron clenched his teeth. "If the adoption did that to you, you can't help it, I guess. And I didn't say Snape was a dark wizard! How could I, when I know for a fact he's a member of . . . er . . ."

"Draco knows all about the Order."

"Oh great," Ron scathed. "Just blab everything to him. Trust him completely, why don't you?"

"Yeah, well maybe I will," Harry threatened. "He hasn't tried to hex me once since I've been down here. He hasn't made nasty suggestions about my relationship with Snape!"

"Now it's a relationship!"

"And just what the hell do you have with your father?"

Ron's nostrils flared, but then he made a visible effort to push his anger aside. "Harry," he said, taking a deep breath. "This adoption thing. Just say it was only because of the warding and I'll understand. Who wouldn't want to be safe? Just admit he isn't really your father, and we'll be fine."

From off to the side, Harry saw Hermione give a slight nod. Good advice, probably. He could smooth everything over with Ron if he'd just agree to that version of events. It was even the version Harry had been halfway telling himself for the past few days.

But it wasn't true, and he'd known that all along.

And suddenly, Harry knew he didn't want to lie to his friends the way he'd been lying to himself. If Ron couldn't stomach who he really was and what he really thought about all this . . .

"It wasn't only for the warding," Harry admitted, the very words taking a huge weight off his mind. "I wanted a father, and I wanted it to be him."

"Let's go, Hermione," was all Ron had to say to that. "Next thing you know he'll be saying he's glad to be in Slytherin, since his new father's so admirable, and I really don't need to hear that."

"He is admirable, and you know what, I don't mind being in Slytherin one bit, you git! The Hat said I'd be great in Slytherin, as a matter of fact! And I plan to be!"

Ron stomped to the door and tried to spell it open, but it wouldn't open for him. Draco waved his wand, his twisted lip saying he'd be only too glad to get rid of their guests. Once in the hall, Ron tapped his foot obnoxiously as he waited for Hermione.

She ignored him. "What was that about an attempt on your life?"

"The Death Eaters Imperiused someone to abduct me so Voldemort could finish what he started on Samhain," Harry bluntly announced, raising his voice, "and Draco here saved me!"

Hermione gasped, her hands shaking as she contemplated that. "But the wards you mentioned, they're in force now?"

"Well, they're supposed to be," Harry nastily put forth. "But seeing as they let in somebody who wanted to hex me, I don't know now, do I?"

"I wasn't going to hex you, Potter!"

"So says you," Harry shot back.

"Harry," Hermione broke in, her voice wavering with concern, "I think I understand why you're desperate for a family . . . but this? It's a huge mistake, don't you see? You're . . . sort of emotionally needy, I think, and you got over-attached to Snape because you ended up isolated with him after Samhain, and you were sick and hurt, which made you regress, I think, into early childhood when you'll bond with anyone just so long as they're taking care of you, and--"

"Oh, if this is what I sounded like when I talked about the book," Draco interrupted, "then I'm glad you told me to shut up, Harry. What utter rubbish!" He rounded on Hermione. "If he's needy, it's because he's got every cause to be, you Muggleborn cow, and if he's friendly with Severus, it's because --gasp!shock!-- they've become friends. Why don't you just get out now like Harry said?"

"Don't insult my friends," Harry told Draco, but without much heat. By then, he felt like an old shoe that had been worn too long. Far too long.

"Let's just go, Hermione," Ron called, keeping his gaze fixed on the corridor rather than the inside of the room.

"We'll come back," Hermione softly promised.

From the doorway, Ron loudly snorted.

I'll talk to him, Hermione mouthed, but Harry had had just about enough, by then.

"Talk to yourself, first," he retorted. "Because until you can accept that Snape's actually good for me, which he is, I don't think you're going to have much luck convincing anybody else."

"Good for you," Ron echoed, giving up on the silent treatment. "Tell you what, Harry. I'll keep this under wraps so that when you come to your senses, which you will, you won't be too totally humiliated in Gryffindor!"

"I think I'll ask the headmaster to make a general announcement," Harry coldly retorted.

"That's it, I'm done," Ron snarled, and stomped off down the corridor without Hermione.

"Harry," she softly inquired, "don't you think it's possible your point of view has got a little bit . . . ah, skewed from spending so much time all by yourself down here?"

"I'm not by myself, I have Draco and my father," Harry told her. "Looks to me they're about all I have, too."

"Harry--"

"You'd better catch Ron before he sees one of my house mates and insults him," Harry pointed out. "He could still end up a splat on the wall."

"I'll . . . I'll talk to you later, then," Hermione murmured.

"Yeah, and when you do, remember one thing," Harry told her. "Draco here heard my news and wished for me to have courage, and strength, and healing, and victory. The pair of you dumped a bunch of shite all over me. Think about that before you come back."

"It's just that it was such a big shock--"

"Yeah, yeah, everybody has excuses," Harry interrupted her. "If you'll excuse me, now, I have things to do."

She took the hint and left to hurry after Ron.

Harry slammed the door after her, then leaned his forehead on it and gave it a couple of vicious kicks. Mistake. His left foot ached afterwards. Actually, his fist really hurt, too.

He heard Draco behind him using spells to clean up the mess left by the broken bottle. Harry finally turned around. "Thanks for lying about the night I spent in Snape's bed," he thought to say. Draco could have made things a lot worse, and hadn't.

"I'm just glad he didn't go back to gardenias meaning a secret love," Draco scathed. "As it was, I was this close to hexing that filthy mouth right off his face." He held up a thumb and forefinger very nearly touching.

Harry sighed. "Yeah. Well, good job on the impulse control, I guess."

Draco laughed, the sound dark and rife with tension. "Good thing you decked him and saved me the trouble."

"It's not funny," Harry groaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He hung his head in his hands. "I know Ron. He won't be able to resist ranting about this all over the common room."

Draco sat down on the floor next to him, a sight Harry had never thought to see. Draco Malfoy, sitting on the floor? Then again, he'd slept on a couch without complaint, so perhaps it wasn't so very surprising. There was more to Draco than Harry would ever have guessed.

"I thought you didn't care who knew," the Slytherin boy lightly reminded him.

"I don't, but when Ron's mad he talks first and thinks later. He might repeat those awful things he said to me."

"If he does, he'll be expelled for slandering a teacher. I say good riddance."

"I don't want him expelled."

"I know," Draco admitted. "Don't worry. They'll come around."

"To thinking Snape's all right?" Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. He's just taken too many points from Gryffindor over the years. I mean, maybe you don't see it, but he's been blatantly unfair."

"Well, he had to do something, didn't he, to counter the partisan interests supporting Gryffindor," Draco pointed out. "Dumbledore tossing out hundreds of points at a go, cheating Slytherin at the last minute. And then last year, McGonagall got into the act, too."

Harry gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, well they were trying to make up for Snape's own abuse of the point system. Hmm. Well, at least Snape can't take points off me any longer. I mean, it'll sink both my houses."

"Well, there's always Longbottom's Potions," Draco joked. "The guy should have dropped the class after the O.W.L.S."

"He needs it since it's so closely tied to Herbology."

Draco stretched his legs out, crossed them at the ankles, and leaned against the wall. "Speaking of Herbology, I was rather surprised you were so interested in the well-wish."

"Well, Snape said the plants were 'well-chosen,'" Harry admitted, "I wanted to see what he thought would be good wishes for me."

"Now you know."

It wasn't exactly fishing, but Harry thought he caught a hint of something in the comment. Insecurity, maybe. "They were really good wishes," he told Draco. "You did a great job with it."

Draco flashed him a smile, then pushed to his feet and gave Harry a hand up. "You want to decide what's for dinner tonight?"

Harry could just imagine Snape withholding comment as he forced down fish and chips with coleslaw. "Uh, no," he declined. "Not hungry, anyway. Actually, I've got a splitting headache. I think it's from holding in the wild magic that wanted to get loose."

"I'll get you a potion," Draco said, returning in a moment with a small vial. Harry recognised the colour, but that didn't mean much. It could still be adulterated with anything, just like Ron had said. Draco would know how to mask a poison.

But Draco didn't want to poison him.

Harry took the vial and downed the contents without even hesitating. "Thank you," he said, feeling the headache begin to clear.

"Thank you," Draco quietly answered.

They both knew for what.

Harry gave him a smile, but it was tinged with sadness. He didn't want to gain a rapport with Draco only at the expense of his other friendships. "I'm going to have a lie-down," Harry sighed, gathering Sals from the Floo before going into his room.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Harry didn't exactly sleep through dinner, he just didn't answer when Snape called to say it was ready. He was half-asleep, anyway, drifting in and out as Sals crawled around on his chest, occasionally climbing up to hiss in his ear. Strangely enough, Sals missed Dudley.

Maybe it's because afraid or not, Dudley never hexed her, Harry thought. Not that Dudley could have, but Harry didn't think Sals understood the difference between a Muggle and a wizard. No great shock, there. Harry had been stuck in between the two ever since he'd known Sals.

He wasn't hungry, so missing dinner was no big deal, but somehow he still appreciated it when Snape came into the bedroom later carrying a tray laden with most of Harry's favourite foods. A chair followed him in, bobbing through the air rather like some dishes Harry had once seen summoned in a American Muggle cartoon about Merlin. Thank goodness the Dursleys hadn't caught him watching it!

Harry sat up, setting Sals to the side before he ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, thanks," he said, glancing at the tray. "Dobby must have helped with this?"

"You think my powers of observation don't encompass what you eat?" Snape set the tray on Harry's legs and made it hover a couple of inches above them, then pulled the chair close to the bed and sat down.

Picking up the glass of orange juice, Harry sighed, "I really don't have much appetite."

"Classic symptom of depression."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "No, no, I'm not depressed," he insisted. "Honestly, Professor. I'm very happy to be your, ah--"

"Adoptee?"

Tone of voice made all the difference in the world, Harry thought. The question could have drenched him with shame that he'd been so self-centred as to say that. But Snape's voice held no anger or sarcasm; it was merely coated with that sardonic lilt Harry had come to recognise as teasing.

"I'm very happy to be your son," he said unflinchingly.

Snape reached out and held his hand for a moment, lacing their fingers together and squeezing before he let it go. "Good to hear. You are, however, depressed. Not too surprising, considering the scene that transpired here, today."

"Shite," Harry swore. "Oh, sorry. It's just that I didn't think Draco would tell you. He's a fine one to call Dudley a blabbermouth! Of course, he's probably hoping to get Ron expelled. That's not very nice! Even if he does hate him, you'd think Draco would spare a thought for what I might like--"

Snape held up a silencing hand. "Draco never mentioned a word about Mr Weasley's vile and rather uninspired comments."

"Then how do you know about them?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Too upset now to even drink, he set his glass down.

"When Draco told me you had almost unleashed wild magic, but had managed to restrain it, I insisted on viewing the entire incident in a Pensieve." Snape gave Harry a considering look. "He actually objected to releasing the memory, but in the end, I prevailed."

"Oh."

"I found myself rather impressed by your impassioned defence of me," Snape murmured. "However, it was not necessary. I do not care what your friends think."

"I know, but I care," Harry explained, horrified to feel tears actually start to well in his eyes. How ridiculous could he get? They weren't true, those awful things Ron had said, so why should they bother him so much? He shoved the tray to hover down near his feet and crossing his legs, bent over them as he tried to get himself back under control.

He felt an arm come around his shoulders, an arm that tightened, giving him the feeling that he wasn't alone. But of course, he wasn't. "Shhh, you idiot child. It's probably little consolation, but I suspect Mr Weasley did not truly believe the nonsense he decided to spew."

"Why spew it then?" Harry asked, unbending enough to look up. He snatched at the handkerchief Snape was holding out, and rubbed it against his eyes.

"Likely because he was angry and wanted to hurt you. By refusing to be distraught about the adoption, you effectively chose your own perspective over his. Mr Weasley did not react well."

"I don't know," Harry murmured. "He doesn't trust you, so maybe he does really think . . . you know."

"Harry, he said at the end that he would be 'fine' about your living here if you would agree that it was only for the warding. Do you truly think he would offer that compromise if he was convinced I was molesting you?"

"Uh, no. Put that way, I guess not. Well . . . you sure are taking this a lot more calmly than I would have thought."

"You are not an appropriate outlet for my ire," Snape said, his eyes glimmering with intent.

"Uh-oh. Are you going to try to get Ron expelled?"

A dark smile transformed Snape's face into an expression of wicked amusement. "And place him out of reach of my wrath? I think not."

Harry swallowed. As mad as he was at Ron, he didn't like the sound of that. "What do you have in mind?"

Snape waved a careless hand, but the gesture was offset by the clear malevolence in his eyes. "Nothing until after Christmas break. We'll let him have a while to ponder his foolish insults. In the meantime, I have taken the liberty of writing to Arthur and Molly Weasley to inform them of his behaviour."

"In other words, you decided to ruin his Christmas."

"Will it do that, really," Snape murmured in tones of mock-innocence. Harry wasn't fooled.

"Aren't you concerned about what the Weasleys might say about our news?"

"Perhaps you didn't hear me when I said I did not care what people think."

"Not even Order members?"

Snape shook his head. "I need no-one's permission." He brought the tray back up within reach. "Perhaps you will eat something now?"

"Still not hungry."

"Oblige me," Snape requested in a hard tone. Harry reluctantly began to nibble on a cookie. "Oh, very healthy," Snape scathed, but for all that, his teacher didn't really try to stop him. "So. You are definitely making progress with your magic, Harry."

"I don't follow."

"Wild magic is by definition, exactly that. Your being able to tame it is a good sign."

"Yeah, well you saw what I had to do to manage that."

Snape smirked. "And a good job you did of it, too. I retract what I said about your not being able to land a decent blow."

"Thanks. I think," Harry murmured.

"Enough about that rather tawdry incident," Snape decided. "I would like to know how you did with Truthful Dreams last night."

"Oh, fine." Snape just stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "You know how you said it sort of makes you dream about whatever's been on your mind? I . . . uh, dreamed a bit about you, actually."

"You have some concerns? Doubts?"

"No . . . I don't know why I dreamed that, actually. But . . . well, I almost hate to mention this, in case you stop, but do you realise that when you call somebody an 'idiot child,' you do it sort of . . . uh, affectionately?"

"I hadn't noticed," Snape mused. "It might perhaps be true."

"It is," Harry stated with confidence. "Anyway, I dreamed about that awful day when you confiscated my letter in class, remember?"

"I am hardly likely to forget," Snape silkily remarked.

Harry knew what he meant by that. If not for that letter, they wouldn't now be father and son. "Yeah," he acknowledged. "Anyway, you hated me then, I know you did. But I saw something pretty startling in the dream. Yeah . . . I was leaving class, and you asked if I wasn't forgetting something, and I asked if you meant the letter, and you said, 'Yes, I mean the letter, you idiot child. Why haven't you asked to see the headmaster about this?' And you know, at the time I thought you even sounded sympathetic there for a second, but I convinced myself I was just imagining it. But you hated me, so . . . I guess I don't understand."

"Hate and sympathy are hardly polar opposites," Snape quietly remarked.

"Come again?"

"The fact that I believed you a vain, spoiled, arrogant young man did not preclude my feeling some measure of pity when you received such a letter. You must understand, Harry, I presumed your aunt to be a mother to you, so when you received news that she lay ill in hospital shortly to die, of course I had some sympathy for your situation."

"But you knew I'd had the letter for days and hadn't even asked to go home." Harry shuddered.

"At first I assumed you were trying to stave off harsh reality by ignoring it," Snape admitted. "When I realised you hadn't even bothered to read a letter from home, I was incensed. Of course it only reinforced my view of you as thoughtless beyond belief."

"That was pretty awful of me," Harry admitted. "I didn't know she was sick, though--"

"I know."

"I just thought they couldn't possibly have anything to say that I wanted to hear," Harry went on. "I mean, I even thought they might be trying to pull me out of school or something, because they had never, ever written me a proper letter before--"

"I know, Harry."

"Oh, right," Harry acknowledged. "You do." He gave a brief smile before deciding to take a stab at eating a couple of fried potato wedges slathered in melted cheese. He decided they'd be better with a few bacon bits scattered atop them.

"Any other Truthful Dreams you'd like to share?" Snape asked after a while.

"Not really." Harry sighed. "I wish I hadn't hit Ron, but at the time it seemed like the stone underfoot would just split if I didn't release my anger another way. Not that I had time to reason all that out, but still . . ." He sighed again, shaking his head. "See, it was one of my seer dreams, that I'd punch him. And I'd decided I wouldn't do it, but you know how much good that did me. I guess I don't like the idea that I can't change anything I saw in my seer dreams."

"Are there dream-events yet to transpire that concern you?"

"No," Harry admitted. "I don't know why it's bugging me so much, unless it's because . . . no, that can't matter so much. I mean, I'm not even sure I understood it right."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Um, well it's just that I dreamed everything in a certain order," Harry explained. "Chronological order, I mean. And it all came true in just the sequence it should, except for punching Ron. That was actually supposed to happen before Draco said-- er, before something else, but it happened after. So now I don't know what to think. There was that day when I almost hit Ron. Maybe that one was the real fulfilment of the seer dream, and I did successfully resist the script of the future. What do you think?"

"I can't help you in this regard, I'm afraid."

"Well, neither can Trelawney," Harry scoffed. "Seer dreams or no, Divination is a total crock."

"Trying to teach it certainly is," Snape agreed. "True prophecy is spontaneous, but there is such a thing. You will have powers the Dark Lord knows not, Harry."

"Voldemort," Harry reminded him.

"Direct quotation," Snape countered. "Eat some protein."

"You're a fine one to talk about regular meals," Harry groused as he picked up a barbecued chicken drumstick and took a couple of bites.

"I believe I mentioned that only one of us is the parent, here?"

"I understand that," Harry admitted. "But . . . you know, I'd like to think I can bring something to this, too. I mean, it would be nice if I could do something to help you, Professor. Because so far, and I don't mean since you adopted me, I mean since the beginning . . . I feel like I've just taken from you."

"You've given, too," Snape said seriously. "Wounds that had been festering for years . . . don't, now. I also never thought I'd have a son, Harry. I poured my energies into guiding my Slytherins, but some part of me, I think, knew that being Head of House wasn't quite the same."

"Remus says you do really well at it, though," Harry murmured. "And I can see why, sir. I'm not too happy with Ron, but I do feel less depressed, now."

"Good. Come out and join Draco and myself in a game of Wizard's Scrabble."

"Wizard's Scrabble?"

Snape narrowed his gaze. "Is there another kind?"

Harry broke out into a weak laugh. "Uh, do the letters attack each other? Actually, I can't see much point in that . . ."

"The points tally themselves."

"I'm really a bit tired," Harry begged off, but Snape was having none of it.

"You're not going to brood all evening alone in your room. Come out and play."

"With your vocabulary? Not likely," Harry scoffed. "It's bad enough you wipe the floor with me every time we play chess."

"You'll be evenly matched against Draco," Snape pointed out.

"Hardly. I mean, he's played before, hasn't he?"

"Ah. You want concessions."

"No, I just--"

"How about . . . you can use Muggle slang against us," Snape interrupted, eyes glittering in challenge.

"That's silly--"

"Oh, all right," Snape groused. "Muggle slang and your E's are worth five points each. Will that get you out of your room?"

It was such a bad bargain for the others that Harry couldn't resist. "You're on," he said, tucking Sals into a pocket before hopping off his bed.

Draco objected to the terms, of course, but gave in after Snape delivered him a withering glare. Harry watched as Snape spelled the game to give Harry extra points on every E.

And then the fights truly began. Draco claimed ronk wasn't really a word, even after Harry dutifully used it in a sentence: Hold your nose when you go in the boy's toilet, it ronks in there. After ronk came kak, meff, and emmas, all of which elicited mighty protests from Draco.

"He's just making up anything that'll use up his letters!" Draco finally erupted.

"No, he's not," Snape calmly countered.

"Oh, right. I suppose you're going to say you knew that emmas were hemorrhoids?" Draco scathed, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation.

"I trust Harry."

"Oh, 'cause Gryffindors wouldn't cheat? The boy sent Granger out to do his research, how's that for not cheating?"

Snape laughed out loud, a rare occurrence indeed. "Draco, don't you think that if Harry wanted to cheat, he'd at least have enough intelligence to use all seven of his tiles doing it?"

"I suppose," Draco muttered. By then it was a moot point; they were all down to their last few tiles. Draco all but screamed when Harry neatly laid down his last three letters: the sequence T W E right next to the E in Snape's word lignite.

"You aren't going to whinge that twee isn't a word, are you?" Harry said, poking Draco in the shoulder when he didn't answer.

"Sixty points for twee," Draco only moaned in answer.

"Oh, surely not," Snape remarked, even though the magical counter was already reflecting it. "Hmm," he murmured. "Double-letter score on that E . . . triple-word score. Hmm. I suppose everything's in order, then. Sixty points. Well played, Harry."

"This is what comes of making his E's worth so much!" Draco roundly censured Snape. "He's won the whole effing game!"

"But he's smiling after a hard day," Snape countered.

"Yeah," Draco admitted, as he smiled too. "That part's good. You were pretty glum after the Weasel left."

Harry's smile died. "Don't call him that."

Draco's silver eyes were hard. "Still going to pretend he's a friend? I suppose you're even going to give him his Christmas present!"

Harry gritted his teeth. "Oh, very funny! You know I haven't been able to go out shopping!"

"Owl-order, Harry," Draco scathed, but his voice lost all rancour a minute later. "Oh, sorry. You didn't think of it?"

"I grew up with Muggles, in case it slipped your mind."

Draco flushed. "I can show you how it works tomorrow, if you like."

"I think I can manage to figure it out," Harry dryly returned. "But thanks."

"I trust the two of you can find your beds before it gets too much later?" Snape inquired, standing, one wave of his wand clearing away the game.

"Sure," Harry agreed, while Draco nodded.

They stayed up past midnight, though. First there was the rematch. They agreed on E's worth their usual one point, but both Muggle and Wizarding slang allowed. After Draco won by a hair, they got to talking Quidditch strategy for a while. When Draco finally got so tired that he didn't even flinch at the sight of Sals climbing out of Harry's pocket, Harry knew it was definitely time for bed.

Harry forgot to take his Truthful Dreams Potion, but he slept the whole night through regardless . . . though before he drifted off he made a mental note to ask Snape if quizzex was really a word.

The End.
End Notes:

Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:

Chapter Forty-Six: Delegation from Gryffindor

~

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight



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