Harry nervously paced the confines of his father's office, his footsteps taking him from the bookshelves to the hearth and back. He didn't know what Snape was saying to Draco to explain the sudden shift of mood out in the living room, but he wasn't too worried about it. He wasn't even worried about the way his father had sneaked into his thoughts, though that had been underhanded to say the least.

The only thing on his mind now was the conversation to come.

Suddenly wanting to escape, Harry fixed his gaze on the fireplace. So tempting. He could Floo now; there was nothing keeping him confined.

That would be the height of cowardice, though, and his father deserved far better from him. No matter that the conversation wasn't likely to be pleasant. Severus needed to know the truth.

"Sit," the man said the moment he had closed the door to ward them in.

He took a chair facing Harry, and began by taking a deep breath. His gaze was sombre when it met Harry's, but anger still blazed in the depths of his eyes. "I cannot imagine," he roughly grated, "what that devious old codger hopes to gain by this latest gambit."

It took Harry a moment to realise who Snape meant. "Oh, Dumbledore? It's nothing to do with him, what I was thinking about."

"Really," Snape mocked. "You just happened to be contemplating mutual repudiation for no reason at all, I suppose?"

It felt like something hard was lodged in Harry's throat. He swallowed, but the sensation persisted. "There's a reason," he began, struggling for words. "Listen--"

"I thought you understood my sentiments on this point," Snape interrupted, "but apparently you don't. Allow me to elucidate. I do not particularly care what new difficulty may have arisen; I will not repudiate the contract, Harry. Ever. That is, after all, what the words I promise tend to indicate. So, whatever your little problem is, I will resolve it as your father! Do you begin to understand me now, or shall I repeat myself a few thousand times?"

"I understand," Harry murmured, raising his eyes.

"I should hope so!" Snape rose to his feet, his expression becoming even more a glower. "Now, as I do not for an instant believe that Albus didn't start you thinking along these ludicrous lines, I shall go have words with him, as well!"

"He'll just send you back down here to talk to me," Harry exclaimed. "It's not him. It's all me! And I'm sorry, but yelling at me that there's no problem doesn't mean there isn't one." His voice broke. "Because there is."

Snape sank back down into his chair. "I didn't say there wasn't a problem, Harry; I said that we would get past it." All at once the man looked deeply exhausted. "So it wasn't some idea of Albus' that the best thing for us would be to repudiate the contract?"

"No, it wasn't. And it's not my idea either, all right?"

Harry wasn't too surprised when Snape missed his point. He knew he wasn't explaining things so well. The man looked at him, black eyes steadily assessing, though this time there was no hint of Legilimency involved. "Perhaps you should just tell me why you would wish to dissolve the adoption, Harry. I thought we were getting on rather well, all things considered."

"We are," Harry firmly agreed. "Listen, sir . . ." He cleared his throat, trying to soften the blow. "I love being your son, I really do. These past few months . . . well, I've never had anything like this, and I've always just been sick with jealousy that everybody else did." He looked away. "I was really looking forward to this summer, sir. I thought maybe we could spend more time in Devon, Draco too, and . . . well, without the pressures of keeping up in class and you teaching and all that, we might have more time together. I mean, I know you pretty well now, I think, but sometimes I realise I don't know you quite the way a son should know his father. So anyway, there's no way I want to end things."

"Then why was that the only thought ringing through your mind?"

Strange how hard it could be to say just two words.

"Seer dream," he finally croaked.

The silence in the room was palpable, after that. Snape stared at him, his eyes intense. Harry just waited. There was no way he could say another word, not until his father responded to the last two.

"Seer dream," Snape at length repeated.

Harry reluctantly nodded.

"When?"

"Uh, week and a half ago, something like that. The night we had that awful fight, actually."

"Is this the bad dream you said you had?" Snape huffed with ill-concealed disgust. "You were worried I wanted rid of you, and then you dreamed about that very thing? Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"Why do you think I didn't go into details sooner? I thought it was just a regular dream, even though it followed the seer dream pattern. Then I realised it couldn't be just any old dream! I saw the past, too, and it turned out to be true! Lotion Potion," he added irrelevantly. "Anyway, it's a seer dream all right. And ever since, I've been doing research, trying to figure out if it really does have to come true."

"If what has to come true, precisely?"

"Your unadopting me, that's what," Harry cried. "I saw it, Professor. That casewitch was back here saying how unfortunate it all was, and you were saying that people didn't want you to actually do it, but it was for the best, or something . . ." He stopped and took a breath. It was either that or blubber, and he wasn't going to break down, he just wasn't.

Snape was shaking his head. "I am not going to . . . ah, unadopt you, Harry, no matter what you think your seer dreams presage in this regard." He paused, his gaze becoming a piercing black that seemed to spear straight through Harry's soul. "Matters between us are really very simple. You aren't just some boy I took in to get him warded." His voice dropped to a bare whisper. "You're my son by choice, not obligation. When I thought today that I had lost you . . . well, it occurred to me that I ought to tell you."

"Tell me I'm your son?" Harry ventured, a little bit confused.

"No . . . You may realise this already, but . . ." Snape cleared his throat. "Harry. I could not love you more had I sired you myself."

Harry blinked. At some level the words came as no surprise. Severus had made it perfectly plain that he cared deeply about Harry, after all. That was all that was making the seer dream halfway bearable. That Severus would say the words, though . . . Severus, who didn't care to show emotion . . . that meant a lot. An awful lot.

Harry reached out and took his father's hands in his, squeezing them a little, as Snape had done so many times for him. "I love you, too, sir," he said, smiling a little as he met the man's startled gaze. "Oh God, that sounds so stupid now, doesn't it, calling you sir after a sentence like that? I guess I really will have to switch to 'Father'." He drew in a breath. "Is that all right?"

"I've no objection, certainly," Snape answered, solemnly nodding, though his eyes still looked a bit unsettled.

Harry nodded too. "All right. Father. Yes, I can do that. I like it, in fact. I'm not sure why it seemed so hard before. Hmm, maybe even Dad sometimes?" He glanced up, smiling. "I told Dudley you weren't the Dad type . . . but you know, sometimes I think you're not too far from it."

It came as no great surprise to Harry that Snape quickly changed the subject. "About this dream, then. You must be mistaken. It cannot possibly come true."

"Dumbledore said that seer dreams always do," Harry confessed, twisting his hands, all his euphoria fading away under the hard force of the truth.

"You went to him with this," Snape realised out loud, sounding not so much angry over that as . . . well, disappointed.

"I didn't," Harry denied. "I was reading up on seer dreaming, trying to figure it out on my own. I didn't want to talk to you until I knew what I was talking about, see? But the books Madam Pince flooed me were almost worthless. So I . . . uh . . ."

"Yes?" Snape darkly questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, fine, take points if you want. Off Gryffindor and Slytherin, remember," Harry muttered. Then, in a louder voice, "I asked a friend to smuggle me out some better books from the Restricted Section. Only she . . . or he . . . got caught. And that was why Dumbledore invited me up for that chat, sir. I mean, Father."

The barest trace of smile might have slid across Snape's gaze; Harry couldn't be sure. "When Miss Granger was apprehended misusing the Restricted Section, I would think the logical course of action would have been to inform her Head of House, not involve Albus."

So Snape had effortlessly figured out who the friend must be. "Well, Madam Pince knew I was researching that very topic. Maybe as it's to do with me, she decided to go straight to the headmaster." Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Anyway, I didn't tell Dumbledore what was in my dream. I just mentioned having had a new one, that's all."

"And?"

Harry snorted. "What do you think? He insisted I had to tell you about it, which I was planning to anyway, by the way. I just hadn't quite got up the nerve. After that, Dumbledore went on and on about what a great father you're turning out to be!" Harry slanted his father a glance. "It's kind of strange you would suspect him of putting the unadoption idea in my head, actually. Does he give you the impression you're not good for me?"

Snape quirked a lip. "No, quite the contrary. However, I don't take what he says at face value."

Harry sighed. "You just see plots everywhere, that's all . . . Anyway, twice a week he has you for tea, he said. Is that why you sometimes hardly eat any dinner? You fill up while you and the headmaster gossip about me?"

"We talk about more than you," Snape informed him, ignoring the other question. "Well. You're apparently convinced that this dream of yours means something serious. So, let's hear it, Harry."

"Let me get my diary," Harry murmured. "I wrote it all down until I had it reconstructed just perfectly."

Snape nodded, and waved his wand, causing the office door to gently swing open.

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

"What's going on?" Draco asked the moment Harry entered the bedroom.

He didn't want to answer nothing, but neither did he want to get into it. "Severus could tell I needed to talk to him," Harry answered. "He sort of insisted."

"More than sort of," Draco noted. "Anything I can do?"

"I don't think so," Harry murmured. "But thanks."

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

"I believe you've made an error," Snape said after he'd read through all of Harry's dream accounts.

The boy had been sitting slouched, a little bit despondent, but he perked up on hearing that. "Yes?"

Snape cast him a glance that was all at once derisive and understanding. "Frankly, I'm still inclined to think this merely means you went to sleep worried about my intentions regarding you."

"Then how do you explain the first part?" Harry pressed.

Snape crossed one knee over the other as he considered that. "It is true that Draco and I had that conversation one day in Devon while you were outside," he mused. "However, that does not mean the second part is also accurate."

Harry grimaced. "I'd like to believe that, I really would, but it sounds like wishful thinking to me. No offence."

"None taken." Snape paused to think. "You went through a cycle of seer dreams back in Grimmauld Place, did you not? You could hardly sleep without experiencing one, and then they ceased completely. Am I correct?"

"Yeah, I haven't had one in ages."

That time Snape's expression was definitely derisive. "Three months is not ages, except perhaps when one is sixteen. At any rate, there is no reason to believe that this cycle of dreams holds true to the pattern established by the last cycle. Especially if, as I suspect, that cycle ceased because it was disrupted. Tell me, Harry, what was the last thing you seer dreamed prior to coming here to live?"

Harry thought back. "Hmm, hard to say. I mean, it might have been that bit about me screaming in Parseltongue, but I only have your word for that. I never have been able to remember that dream."

Snape nodded, his dark gaze thoughtful. "I woke you, yes. No doubt that was a mistake, but what is done is done. What matters is simply this: your seer dreams may well be following a different pattern this time around. Perhaps you've started to view the future in symbols instead of literally. Perhaps the second half serves merely to highlight your considerable anxieties. You are in fact not accustomed to being anyone's son."

"Perhaps," Harry said, but only to be polite. His father just didn't want to believe the dream; that much seemed obvious. Harry could hardly blame him.

Hearing what Harry hadn't said, Snape went on, "Suppose, however, your dream will literally come true. I still believe your interpretation tends toward the hysterical, to say the least."

Hysterical? Harry thought that was a bit much. "What else could it possibly mean?"

"Let's review the salient points. Apparently you and I will be caught in the midst of something unfortunate. I have decided to take some sort of legal action to remedy the situation. There are those who are resisting my remedy, but I insist. You have not been informed in advance of what I intend, though you should have been." Snape favoured him with a thin smile. "Personally, if I believed your dream to be true, I would suspect it predicts a simple change of name."

Harry gaped at him. "Excuse me? Change of name?"

"Harry Snape," the Potions Master mocked. "Harry James Snape? Hmm. Not sure I care for that. Your middle name may have to go as well."

Harry felt himself go hot all over. "I thought we agreed--"

"We did agree," Snape interrupted, all vestige of humour gone. "I'm not saying I intend to ask such a thing of you. I simply wish you to realise that this interpretation fits the parameters of your dream at least as well as your previous one."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Does it, though?" Grabbing his journal back, he flipped through the pages detailing his dream. "Well, I suppose it would explain why the casewitch called this a drastic step, but why would she say that bit about how you had changed your mind?"

Snape flicked a bit of lint off his trouser leg. "It came up during my interview with her, the issue of your name. She seemed relieved that I was content for you to remain Harry James Potter."

Harry blinked. "Well, I guess this version of things explains pretty well why she's reluctant, then. She was in the Order the first time around, I think Dumbledore mentioned. She wouldn't want my name to lose its . . . uh . . ."

"Cachet is, I believe, the word you're grasping after," Snape inserted. "Your name has symbolic meaning, even more so now than when you were younger. Winning a Tri-Wizard Tournament will do that. "

"I didn't win it," Harry muttered. "Not really."

"Definitely a Gryffindor."

Harry was still caught up in the dream. "Suppose you're right. What unfortunate circumstances could make it so necessary for you to change my name? I mean, what on earth would that solve?"

Snape shrugged. "Who can say? Up until recently you had living relatives, thus the Ministry has known itself restricted with regard to you. Now, in a certain sense, you are more vulnerable. Imagine that the threat from Voldemort intensifies. Fear sweeps the land. Fudge desires to use you for public relations purposes, and I quite rightly object. As my status as your guardian is not based on blood, they attempt to abrogate it. I conclude that changing your name would dissuade the Ministry."

"That seems a little unlikely."

"It is, I assure you, far more likely than your insane interpretation." Snape shrugged again. "Harry, there are literally dozens of possibilities. Wizard Family Services has a policy of follow-up visits. They want to be sure you are adjusting well to your new situation. Perhaps one of these goes awry. Frankly, I am surprised the casewitch hasn't dropped by uninvited already. I suppose Albus must have told them to allow us a little breathing room."

"Uninvited?" Harry echoed.

Snape waved a hand. "Random inspections," he lightly sneered. "They want to see slices of normal family life. As if there is any such thing." The man frowned. "Perhaps the 'unfortunate circumstances' refers to something she becomes aware of during a visit, and I have to sign an acknowledgement that our status is being reviewed."

"But how would that fit in with the talk of someone not wanting you to take 'such a step?'"

"Who can say? That's not the only possible scenario, Harry. Maybe a solicitor discovers an error in the adoption paperwork, and correcting it involves some less-than-legal manoeuvres. Or, perhaps someone decides to challenge the adoption. Shall I go on?"

Harry shook his head. "I see your point, sir . . . Father. But none of those scenarios really fits the dream just so, you know. Well, I suppose the name one comes closest . . . but I just can't imagine changing my name."

"Precisely why, should it become necessary, I would change it for you and inform you afterwards. You see? It does fit."

"No, it doesn't. None of your ideas explain why I'd be packed and ready to leave, or why you'd give me back my vault key."

"Maybe it wasn't your vault key at all. Maybe it was Draco's."

Harry snorted. "Draco doesn't leave his vault key lying about. And what reason could he have to seal it in an envelope? I'm pretty sure he's got no intention of owling it off!"

"Maybe it was the key to Black's vault, and Albus had sent it down here to you."

Harry supposed that was remotely possible, but still protested, "Then why was I packed?"

A little impatiently, then, Snape retorted, "I want you packed, Harry. I want you back in Gryffindor where you belong, with these friends who are your strength. I begin to suspect that being so isolated is interfering with your access to your magic. You have told me that you need your friends; evidently this is quite true."

Harry huffed a bit. "Well, that's just great. I need to be around my friends to get my magic back, but I'm not allowed to be around them much until it already is back? That's a . . . um . . ."

"Paradox," Snape supplied. "Conundrum. Catch-22."

"It isn't funny!"

"It also isn't as dire as you make out. You will recover your magic."

Harry flushed. "Draco's right; I haven't been trying as hard as I should have. But I've started to practice every day, now. There's got to be some magic down inside me. I mean, I can Floo just fine. But . . ." He swallowed, then went on, "I almost wonder if I should stop trying. What if getting my magic back somehow starts some chain of events that means you have to unadopt me? I don't want that."

Snape leaned his head back and studied the ceiling for a long moment. "Harry, you won't have to choose between a father and your powers, because I am not going to unadopt you. Now, I have no doubt whatsoever that you will fully recover your magic, but I have no notion as to when. You think it will be by the time the casewitch brings me legal papers, but this is mere supposition on your part, based on a belief that you were packed to leave. Perhaps you weren't. Assuming the dream is true, something which I do not assume, by the way, all we really know for certain is that your things were put away for once."

"They couldn't have been," Harry protested. "My things don't all fit in my trunk, remember? And it was my trunk I saw in the dream, not some new one with wizardspace inside."

"Perhaps you had lent your things to someone."

"Sure," Harry mocked.

"Harry, I am not going to unadopt you!" Snape insisted, raising his voice and pulling his feet in against his chair. "I know you find adults to be undependable, but this, you may depend on! Shall I swear a blood oath as well as sign a contract, or can you simply trust me?"

Harry flinched a bit. "I do trust you, all right? But that doesn't solve anything . . . Listen. Right after my operation, I bet you'd have shouted from the rooftops that you'd never, ever hold me forcibly down and pry open my eyelids so Lucius Malfoy could blind me with needles, right? But you did."

Snape's fingers curled into claws as his breathing became a hiss. "I thought you had forgiven me that."

"There's nothing to forgive," Harry stressed, leaning forward to stare intently at the Potions Master. "Nothing, do you understand? Sometimes things just line themselves up in a certain way and you end up doing things you'd normally never dream of doing. That's what I'm afraid of, actually. What if you have to go through with an unadoption because it will save me somehow? What if something awful happens and I'll end up in Azkaban if I stay tied to a former Death Eater?"

"That is absurd."

"Oh yeah? Well, what would you have said in October if I'd told you what you were going to do to me on Samhain?" Harry challenged.

Snape sighed. "I do see your point, Harry, loath though I am to admit it. Nonetheless, I do not believe your dream will come to pass, at least not in the form you envision. I cannot conceive of it."

"I didn't want to believe it either," Harry admitted. "I really didn't. But then I realised . . ." Not knowing how to explain, he ventured, "Do you remember that night you were so tired and you decided to . . . um, run a little family counselling session with Draco and me?"

The Potions Master huffed. "I did no such thing. I presume you mean the night the two of you needed a stern talking to."

Whatever, Harry thought. "Right. Anyway, you asked Draco if he thought a family was . . . uh, a paper stamped by some Ministry idiot, something like that, and . . . well, this'll sound awfully stupid, I bet, but up until then, I sort of did think it was the paper that had made you my father." He gave the man a rather somber glance. "You were right when you said that fifteen years with the Dursleys really took a toll. I wasn't wanted there, and short of you being willing to do something as serious as sign a contract, I don't think I'd ever have believed I was wanted here, either. But . . . well, I think I'm past that now."

"Meaning?" Snape inquired, one eyebrow raised.

Harry tried to organize his thoughts. "You and I don't need a certificate embossed and suitable for framing. I mean, you don't have one for Draco, do you? That doesn't make him any less your son."

"No, it doesn't," Snape drawled, sounding pleased that Harry knew as much. "Be that as it may, I for one rather like having things between us be official."

"Yeah, me too." Harry flashed his father a slight smile. "I like the idea that this is more than a private arrangement; you've got the legal authority to go tell Fudge to take a flying leap. I know you'll do what's right for me no matter what the Ministry has to say about it." He drew in a bracing breath. "But if something's going to happen to wreck that . . . well, I think we'll still be all right. You'll still be my father where it counts most."

"Very mature," Snape commended. "Though as I said, I can't agree that it will ever come to that. However, if you feel that way, it occurs to me to wonder why your thoughts in the living room were quite so morose."

Harry's lips turned down. "Maybe it would be better if you didn't pry like that. I don't much like the idea that I have to go around Occluding here in my own home."

"You make it sound as though I Legilimize you on a continual basis."

"You shouldn't do it at all. Or at least, not without warning me."

"Who is the father here?" Snape demanded to know.

Harry, however, was wise to him, just as he'd said up in Dumbledore's office. Snape was trying to put him off the topic, which probably meant that the man knew it hadn't been right to pry that way. "You're the father," he easily admitted. "And you have the makings of a really, really good one--"

"The makings," Snape echoed.

"Yeah, but some things need work. I'm sure you'd say the same of me, right? But we're talking about you, this time," he added, before Snape could sidetrack the conversation. "If we're practicing duelling or something, that's one thing. Or if I was sick or hurt and couldn't talk, I guess. Other than that, I think you'd better not Legilimize me. It's just not right." When Snape still looked a bit stubborn, Harry reluctantly added, "It's a bit like sneaking a peek in somebody's Pensieve, don't you think?"

"That's a line worthy of a Slytherin," Snape scoffed.

Well, Harry reasoned, it was good they were so far past that. He'd been a little leery that the mere mention of the Pensieve would get him a glare, even after everything that had happened since. Not wanting to push his luck, he dropped the matter of Legilimency and went on. "Anyway, about me being morose. There was a reason. Up in Dumbledore's office, I started wondering just what awful thing might happen to cause an unadoption . . . I'd already figured out that it wouldn't really matter, right? But then I thought, what if after you unadopt me, it'll put you in danger if I so much as come by? I realised it wasn't going to be much use having an 'unofficial' father if I can't even see him. That idea was pretty upsetting. I mean, it'd be even worse than--" Harry abruptly shut up.

"Worse than what?"

A bare whisper was the most Harry could manage. "I just mean . . . there were times growing up when I wished so much that I could talk to my father, right? But I knew it wasn't possible. And I didn't really know him anyway, or even know what it was like to have anybody, so I didn't know what I was missing, if that makes sense. But this . . ." A shiver coursed through his shoulders. "If I lose you, I'll know what I've lost."

Snape reached out and laid a hand on his knee. "You are not going to lose me, Harry."

Harry gulped. "I started wondering if the Ministry was going to . . . um, you know, hold your past against you and send you to Azkaban, actually. It could happen. You know how stupid and unfair Fudge is."

"He's not quite stupid enough to incite a revolt," Snape dryly remarked, leaning back again. "I rescued the Boy Who Lived from certain death. You may not realise this, but the events on Samhain were widely reported."

"Ron mentioned something about that . . ."

"I am hailed as a hero," Snape said with some measure of disgust. "The Ministry even saw fit to reveal my years of espionage, the fools, though it was never them I reported to, but the Order." He shook his head. "At any rate, imprisoning the man who saved you, who afterwards took you into his own home . . . the man you now call Father? Not even Fudge is that great an imbecile. You could sway public opinion against him in an instant."

"If I had that kind of influence," Harry weakly protested, "the Prophet wouldn't have spent months printing lies about me."

"Fudge's last ditch effort to pretend Voldemort had not returned," Snape brushed that off. "He knows better now, which means he definitely needs you. Even without knowing the prophecy I'm sure he realises that. He wouldn't dare trump up charges against me, so stop tormenting yourself, Harry. As I said, you are not going to lose me."

"I hope not," Harry whispered.

"You won't," Snape promised. "I don't even believe that any legal adjustments will be in order. I hope that assures you."

Harry nodded, his eyes still a bit shadowed. He couldn't help but think that some awful problem was going to rear its ugly head and force them apart. There was no point in discussing that, though, not any longer. Snape knew what he thought, and he knew what Snape thought, and as for the rest . . . they'd just have to watch the future unfold and see.

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

The mood around the dinner table that night was a bit strained. In between bites, Draco kept shooting Harry odd little glances, as if trying to figure out what had gone on in the office earlier that day. Harry didn't want to discuss the prospect of unadoption. It had been bad enough going over all of it with Severus.

And he certainly wasn't going to bring the matter up in front of Ron.

Ron usually ate quickly and launched straight into his homework, sometimes while the others were still finishing dinner. Snape had been remarkably tolerant of the borderline rude behaviour, but this evening, Ron had enough sense to tread a bit more carefully. He didn't even say anything about the fact that the conversation wasn't centred on revision, though to Harry's eyes it did seem that he was looking at them all a bit curiously. Ron lingered over his dessert, only setting his fork down when Harry did, breathing an almost inaudible sigh of relief when Snape left the table and headed for his office.

He waited until the door was closed before leaning forward over the table and quietly whispering, "What's the matter?"

Harry firmed his lips. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that," Ron hissed. "You look like your best friend has died or something!"

"Well, you haven't, have you?" Harry weakly joked.

Ron almost flinched, his gaze straying to Draco, then back to Harry. "You still count me as your best friend?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Though this has been even worse than fourth year."

Draco had been sitting quietly throughout dinner, apparently content to listen and observe, but that comment got the better of his restraint. "What happened fourth year?"

"Tri-Wizard Tournament," Harry shortly explained.

"So?"

Ron clenched his fists, then quickly shoved them under the table. "I thought Harry had snuck his name in the Goblet, all right?"

Draco grinned, the expression a little bit malicious. "Well, that's not such a horrible crime, is it? I mean, we all thought he was a glory-seeking attention-addicted little arse."

"I should have known better," Ron groused. "It makes me sick to think I was momentarily in the same mindset as you."

"Hmm, you'll be ill for a long while then," Draco breezed, standing up. "I plan to be an Auror and join the Order and all the rest, so unless you plan on changing sides . . ." He let the suggestion hang in the air, a challenging lilt to his eyebrows.

"You may have Harry snowed twenty feet under--" Ron hotly began.

"Don't," Harry interrupted.

"Don't?" Ron groused.

"Yeah, just don't. You don't have to like Draco and you sure don't have to trust him. I know how long it took me, and I was around him twenty-four hours a day, all right? I understand where you're at. But don't pick a fight, all right?"

"Pick a fight!" Ron complained. "He was the one taunting me!"

"He's going to stop that," Harry said with a hard glare in Draco's direction. "Right?"

Draco gave a careless shrug. "Well, seeing as you've switched to crumpets for the duration, I suppose I may as well."

"What?"

"Never mind," Harry said, waiting until Draco had gone into the bedroom and closed the door. "He means he'll try."

"Things are very strange down here."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Harry agreed, leaning back. "I bet all families are like that, though."

Ron gave him a doubtful look as he drew his wand to clear the table and Accio over his school bag. "Family?"

"Well, Snape is my dad, you know," Harry pointed out.

Ron began setting books, quills, and parchment out. A sneering expression settled on his face as he challenged a bit belligerently, "Well, seeing as he's your dad and all, think you could go ask him why Ingrid's fifth principle doesn't apply to weather charms? 'Cause I just don't get it."

Harry thought briefly of agreeing, but then had another idea. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Yeah, right. He gives me detention if I so much as look at him wrong."

"When's the last time he gave you any detention at all except one where you have to come down here?" Harry pressed.

Ron's brow furrowed. "Hmm. Um, I don't know. A while before that whole lines garbage."

"You were very rude to him," Harry pointed out. "Look, I didn't think he reacted so well to that, but think about what you said. What if someone had come up and accused you of . . . er, touching Ginny like that?"

"That's different!" Ron exclaimed. "Ginny's my sister!"

"Yeah, but I'm his son," Harry tried to get across.

"Not really," Ron muttered.

"Yes, really."

"Whatever."

Harry gave it up, for the moment. "Anyway, I think you should just go ask him about Ingrid's fifth principle, all right? You are down here to be tutored, aren't you?"

Ron crossed his arms, a mulish expression settling onto his features.

For a while there, Harry had thought Ron was making progress . . . Well, actually he was, but it wasn't quite there yet, so Harry gave in to a depressing impulse to bribe him into talking to Snape himself. He didn't want to be a go-between, after all. Ron needed to learn for himself that Snape wasn't such a monster. Maybe that would help him come around, finally.

"Remember, the sooner he declares you caught up in your subjects, the sooner you can stop coming here," Harry prompted. "Go on, go ask him your question. He won't bite, I swear."

Sure enough, that did the trick. Definitely, Ron didn't do subtle.

Shoving back his chair, the other boy stood up and marched to the door, looking for all the world as though he were steeling himself to face a dragon or something. Harry repressed an urge to loudly sigh as he gathered his own books and things and settled in at the table.

He'd criticized Draco for eavesdropping, more than once, but Harry knew he wasn't above it himself, on occasion. This was one of them.

A knock, timid at first, and then a veritable pounding as Ron's nervousness spilled out.

"Enter!"

Snape sounded pretty irritated, Harry thought. Uh-oh. Maybe this wasn't such a capital idea . . . In the end, though, he was proud of his father. True, the man had been snappish and more than a little brusque, but that was just his personality. He hadn't gone out of his way to insult Ron, though he had seen fit to ask in sardonic tones if it was a Gryffindor trait to ignore the alternate readings.

"I read them," Ron defended himself.

"Thoroughly?" Snape drawled.

"Uh, no," Ron admitted.

"Consult them again," Snape advised. Ron was already half-way through the door he'd left open--Harry hurriedly turned around so it wouldn't look like he was trying to hear--when the Potions Master added, "If you are still confused afterwards, return."

Ron flopped down into the chair opposite Harry and dragged out some crumpled parchments.

Harry knew he should probably just stay quiet, but he couldn't resist. "See, that went all right," he had to point out.

"Yeah, well he could have just answered my question," Ron grumbled, adding in a lower tone, "But at least he didn't take points, so . . . yeah, all right."

Smiling, Harry returned to his own study of weather charms.