Harry Potter had felt the furious anger that had built up in the pit of his stomach, erupting like a volcano. He had enough. That had been the cause of blowing Marge Dursley up. Blowing Marge Dursley up had been the cause of Harry leaving the Dursleys.

But what would he say when he went back to the Dursleys next summer? What would they do? And, in the meantime, where was he going to go? He couldn't just keep aimlessly wandering the empty, dark streets of Privet Drive. He had to go somewhere.

That, however, was the question.

Where?

The cool night breeze whipped through Harry's hair as he walked through the streets. He wasn't really paying attention to where he was going: he hoped that he might wander somewhere where he could stay until it was time to go back to Hogwarts.

There was the other question. Just how was he going to get back to Hogwarts?

Maybe he could write to Ron and spend the rest of his summer with the Weasleys. But weren't they in Egypt? Harry didn't remember right then; he was too busy fuming over what happened earlier at the Dursleys.

How dare Marge Dursley say those things about his parents?

Harry was too wrapped up in his thoughts that he wasn't paying attention to his steps: he ended up putting one foot in front of the other, tripping himself.

As he went down with a thud, he heard a crack—though he had no idea what it came from. Did he break something? Suddenly, Harry felt a sharp pain on the side of his head, above his pressed his hand against his head where the pain was coming from, and when he removed it he saw warm, red liquid. Blood.

Harry wiped the blood on his jeans, immediately noticing how he had came to bleed: he had landed on a rock. Or, his head had landed on a rock. Harry could see the blood that now painted the top of the rock.

Underneath it, he noticed a piece of crumpled up, muddy paper. He lifted the rock up, trying to smoothen out the paper and read the words.

“Permissum aliquid magus occuro?” Harry tried pronouncing the words, though he knew that he wasn't pronouncing them right at all. He flipped the paper over to see more writing on the back. “Illico hinc noctis, illico hinc hora?”

With a frown Harry threw the paper aside, and then his eyes landed on what the crack had come from.

His wand.

Harry let out a startled cry. His wand lay in two pieces on the ground. It must've fallen out when Harry went down.

Then, Harry felt something warm wash over him, and he felt drowsy. He emitted a small gasp as he was jerked backwards, as if large hands and taken him around the waist and threw him backwards. His head and vision became foggy, and his stomach dropped like he was somewhere high, high up and was being let go. Falling to the earth.

Harry's eyes fluttered until they closed. He didn't know how long it was until they opened again.

--

The first thing Harry did when he became conscious again was groan. Something warm was on his forehead—was it the blood from his fall? No, Harry became aware that it was a washcloth that had been dunked in lukewarm water.

“My head,” Harry whined, trying to open his eyes. He let out another low groan and tried to sit up, but somebody was telling him to lay down. Who did that voice belong to? It was familiar, yes, but so soft… somehow, to Harry, it seemed an unlikely combination.

Harry felt glasses being placed on his nose. He opened his eyes. He opened his mouth in surprise and tried to speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

“P—Professor Snape,” he finally said, his voice a little raspy. Harry had almost forgotten to add the “Professor”, and then he wondered what Snape would've said if Harry had addressed him only as “Snape.” Harry assumed that yelling would've been involved.

The Potions master kept quiet, his eyes studying Harry intently. Harry soon began to squirm under the uncomfortable gaze.

“Does your head hurt?” came the soft, quiet question.

“Er—yeah, sort of,” Harry answered awkwardly. “Uh, sir, how did I end up here?”

A brief, puzzled expression crossed Severus Snape's face before it quickly disappeared. “I found you here.”

Harry shook his head, and then regretted it. A sharp pain filled his head. “That's impossible, sir,” he explained after letting out a breath. “I was no where near your house when I… passed out.”

Harry was surprised at how much emotion he saw in the professors dark eyes. He couldn't figure out what was going on. It almost seemed as if Snape cared for him, just by the way he was looking at him. There was so much... tenderness. But really, that was impossible. Tender? Caring? Loving? This was Severus Snape. He loathed Harry ever since his first day at Hogwarts.

“No, I found you here.” There was a small pause before Snape cleared his throat and stood up. “Can I get you anything, Harry?”

Harry could only stare in surprise. Had Snape just referred to him as Harry? That was, definitely, a first. Just what was going on?

Snape now looked annoyed. “Are you going to answer me or not, Harry?”

There it was again.

“How did I get here and what is going on?”

“I'd like to know the same thing,” Snape answered, his voice becoming icy. He sat back down on the edge of the couch and stared at Harry. “What's your name?”

Harry hesitated, puzzled, before he answered uncertainly. “Harry Potter.”

The answer seemed to take Snape by surprise, which made Harry just as surprised. His previous question of “What's going on?” still remained.

“When were you born?”

“J—July thirty-first.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen, sir.”

“Who were you born to?”

Now, Harry was just confused with the Potions masters' questioning. Did he not think that he was really Harry Potter? It was the only thing that Harry came up with, as to why he was being interrogated so.

“Lily and James Potter.” Harry frowned. “Why are you asking me so many questions? Why aren't you answering my questions? Sir, all I remember is getting angry and, well, blowing Aunt Marge up... and then leaving the Dursleys! I really was no where near your home, Professor, so I'd like to know how I came to be here. Please answer me.”

Harry was surprised at the icy edge that came to his rather commanding voice as he finished speaking. His head was still throbbing painfully, so perhaps that was why he was in such a cranky mood.

“Merlin, this isn't real,” Snape said, catching Harry by surprise. “I have to be dreaming…”

Harry stared at Snape in confusion. “I don't understand,” Harry admitted. “Wha—”

“You are not thirteen, you were not born to Lily and James Potter and as far as I recall, you do not have an 'Aunt Marge'.” Snape's voice had become almost angry, though Harry didn't know why. “Now get out of my house!”

Harry was taken aback, and all he could do was sit and stare. Had Snape really just kicked Harry out of the house? Sure, he wouldn't really mind leaving, he just didn't know where he was, and if he left, where he was going to go.

Harry slowly began to stand up, but Snape shook his head and gently pushed Harry back down.

“I didn't mean it like that. I just can't… understand how you can really be Harry. My Harry. How are you still alive?”

Harry's eyes widened. “Your Harry? What do you mean by—wait, still alive? Was I dead or… something? I didn't really think that when I fell, it was that serious.”

“When you fell?”

Harry started to stand up, but Snape was trying to keep him down. “I really need to go. This is weird, and I don't really understand anything that's going on.”

“Why do you think you're Harry Potter?” Snape asked quietly, startling Harry by the question.

“Well… because I am,” Harry said slowly. “Why did you tell me that I wasn't thirteen? Sir!” He quickly added before Snape had a chance to catch that.

“You aren't thirteen,” Snape said, and then wordlessly stood up. Harry sat there in confusion, wondering if he should stay or follow. He was in the middle of trying to decide when Snape returned with… with a mirror?

Harry was about to ask what it was for when Snape held it up, in front of Harry, and Harry gaped. He didn't look like himself. He looked more like his mum than his father at all—but, there was something about his appearance that reminded him of someone… a resemblance…

“Tell me what's going on,” Harry said, looking up at the Potions professor. “I look different and… younger.”

“You aren't thirteen, you're twelve,” Snape suddenly started to explain. “Lily Evans is your mother, but James Potter, however, isn't your father.”

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he suddenly realized who he resembled. “You are,” he said quietly. “Aren't you?”

Snape nodded slowly, though he didn't look disgusted at the idea, like Harry thought he would. How long had Snape known this for? And—did he say that Harry was twelve?

“Indeed,” came the reply. “Your mother was merely with James Potter because I was still a Death Eater—a spy. If she wasn't, then the Dark Lord would've realized that I was a traitor.”

Harry couldn't exactly grasp onto what Snape was saying, but he tried to. “But when Mum and—and… James died, why didn't you take me? Why couldn't you raise me? I—I know why you couldn't, but you could've done something, couldn't you? And why do you hate me so much?”

Snape now looked utterly bewildered. “What are you talking about? I did raise you, and I certainly do not hate you.”

Harry frowned, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head. “What? N—no you didn't.”

“What I don't understand,” Snape said coolly, “is how you're possibly even alive after what happened. This isn't possible—I buriedyou.”

Harry's mouth fell open. “Whenwas this? I was never dead!This isn't right.” Harry scrambled off the couch and started to step away from Snape. “You're lying. You aren't my father; it's not true. You can't be. You're just making everything up.”

Harry heard Snape following him as he quickly walked out of the room, trying desperately to find the door to get out of the house. Why was Snape saying all of these things? What did he plan to achieve by telling Harry these lies?

“Why would I make this up?” Snape's impatient voice demanded. “I just want to know, Harry. I want to know why you're back, why you're thinking things that aren't true and how you don't remember anything. I want answers just as much as you do.”

“Why I'm thinking things that aren't true?” Harry echoed with a frown. “These things are true, Snape!”

Snape scowled. “You will never address me like that again, do you understand?”

Harry felt his cheeks grow hotter, and he wordlessly nodded, swallowing. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes of staring at each other, Harry let out a small sigh.

“Fine. You'll tell me why you think I died, and you'll try to answer as many of my questions as you can. Then… then if you have any questions, I'll try to answer them as best I can. OK?” Harry waited, watching as Snape studied him, until Snape finally answered.

“Fine.”

Harry slowly followed Snape back into the room that Harry woke up in. He felt awkward and uncomfortable here with Severus Snape, whom Harry had always thought absolutely loathedhim, which was always the reason that he loathed the professor back.

All Harry wondered now, as he sat back down on the sofa, was what had happened when he passed out? He remembered the feeling he had: his stomach dropping, those butterflies that had fluttered around violently in his stomach. The feeling like he was falling, being pulled somewhere…

But that was all he remembered.

Harry faced Snape, letting out a breath. Then, staring into Snape's onyx eyes and still seeing those many emotions mingled within, he heard his uncertain voice ask, “How did I die?”

Harry watched quietly as Snape tried to think of somewhere to begin. It looked as though it pained him to think about it, let alone try and talk about it.

“Last year was your first year at Hogwarts,” Snape started. Harry still had to get used to the fact that he was only going to be in his second year instead of third in this… place. “You had this… curiosity of what was being hidden in the school—”

“The Philosophers Stone!” Harry blurted out, eyes wide. “So that happened here too?”

“Please don't interrupt me,” Snape growled, and Harry pressed his lips together tightly. “Save your questions until I am finished.

“You, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger tried to save that Stone, and in the process you—you died. Quirrel ended up dying down there as well, and the Stone… it was destroyed.”

Harry paled. He wasn't sure how to react to Snape's sudden change of voice; it had become thick and layered with emotion, much like thoser reflected in his eyes, that still caught Harry by surprise.

“I—I take it I'm still in Gryffindor here?”

Snape nodded wordlessly.

“Were you ashamed? Of having your… son sorted in Gryffindor?” Harry couldn't help but ask.

Snape scowled. “Never.”

Harry wasn't completely sure how to react to that answer, either. He shifted his position on the sofa as he asked, “What about Ron and Hermione? Are they still OK?”

“They were fine,” Snape replied.

Harry was quiet. He could feel Snape's eyes on him; he had been doing that often. Staring at Harry. It made him even more uncomfortable.

“Are you really Harry?” Snape broke the silence softly.

“Yes I am,” Harry answered honestly. “Just not your Harry. I am Harry Potter, Lily and James Potters' son. When they died, I was given to the Dursleys.”

“Your… aunt and uncle?” Snape guessed. Harry nodded in response. “Were they good to you?”

Harry hesitated. “I lived in a cupboard up until my Hogwarts letter came. Then I was moved to Dudley's second bedroom. I had lots of chores ever since I was little—weed the garden, cook dinner…” Harry caught himself. Was he really telling Severus Snape about his home life? Of all the people…

“So you were merely nothing more than a House Elf to them,” Snape said, looking angry. “Why didn't you ever tell anyone?”

Harry frowned. “They weren't abusing me!”

“I never said that,” Snape pointed out. “What about… us? Were we ever… close, or—?”

Harry snorted, though he ended up wincing in pain. The spot above his ear where he hit the rock was still throbbing with pain. “There is only one word to describe how you feel about me,” Harry said. “Hate. You… you despised me.”

“Oh,” Snape replied quietly, his eyebrows pulling together in a frown.

They both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Harry wondered how he was ever going to get back to his right reality. He now knew that somehow he must've landed himself into another place. Another time.

“So… I might need your help, sir,” Harry said awkwardly. “To get back.”

Snape looked startled. “What?”

“T—to get back,” Harry repeated. “I really don't know how I got here, but I really do think I should find a way to get back, and I'll need your help.”

Snape shook his head. “I'm afraid I cannot assist you.”

It was Harry's turn to look startled. “What?”

“I have hoped that somehow I'd get my son back—and now I have. I'm not letting him go.”

“That's just it,” Harry argued. “I'm not your son!”

Snape abruptly stood up and left the room. Harry pressed his hand against the side of his cut head and noticed that it was bandaged. Snape must've bandaged it for him. Harry followed Snape, and in the process had the chance to look at the place Snape lived in. It was very clean. That was the first thing Harry noticed. It was one thing, though, that really caught his eye.

Pictures.

Ones that had Snape had Harry—mainly some that were of him as a baby, then a toddler, and then a boy. They were very different from the Dursleys' pictures—for instance: they moved. But that wasn't it. It was that the Dursleys had only pictures of Dudley; never Harry.

Then Harry noticed the pictures of Lily. Some alone, some with Snape, but—Harry could see no pictures that had Snape, Lily and this-Harry as a baby in it together.

“She loved you,” Snape said from the doorway. Harry didn't turn around; he kept his eyes on the pictures. “We both loved you.”

“You don't love me,” Harry said quietly. “You hate me. You always have. You aren't my father either—James is!”

“Take a look in the mirror,” Snape growled. “Do you see any bit of Potter in you? It's me and Lily, Harry—that's the blood running through your veins. Snape blood; not Potter blood.”

“In this reality, maybe,” Harry argued. “But in my reality—the real one—I am and will always be a Potter! Never your son. Never.”

Harry swallowed, staring at the Potions Master, remaining silent. There was an uncomfortable feel in the air around them now. Snape looked as if he kept wanting to say something, but never did. Had he really just said all of that? He felt his heart race as he tried to catch his breath.

“Do you want to remain here until you go back?” Snape questioned curtly, blatantly ignoring Harry's comment.

Harry hesitated before answering. Would he be able to spend his time with Snape until he found a way to return?

“Er… sure,” Harry answered uncertainly. “Is there, uh, room though?”

Stupid question, Harry realized. Of course there would be room. He used to, apparently, live here.

“Of course,” Snape replied as he stood. “Follow me, I'll show you to your room. Would you like to have lunch now or afterwards?”

“It's lunch already? I was out for a while, then.”

“Indeed.”

Harry followed Snape up the stairs quietly, still a little uncomfortable with his outburst, until they reached a room, which Harry assumed was his. When Snape opened the door, Harry was extremely surprised to see it decorated in Gryffindor colors.

After seeing Harry's expression, Snape said, “You've always liked Gryffindor. Feasibly because that was the House your mother was in.”

There was another pregnant pause between them.

“I'll have Nome tell you when it's lunch.”

Harry reckoned that Nome was the House Elf. He watched as Snape silently left. Harry cautiously stepped into the room, looking around.

It was a big room with a large closet and window. The four-poster bed sat in front of the window. Lots of pictures decorated the room, as well. Mostly of him and Snape; some were of Lily, too.

Harry slowly went through the room, studying everything. This was all so… weird. He stood in front of the mirror, observing himself. He couldn't get used to this new appearance. One thing that was very much the same was his messy, untidy hair.

A thought struck Harry out of the blue. What exactly was his name in this reality? Was it still Harry? He assumed that it was, since it was what Snape had called him earlier.

Harry walked out of the room and slowly stepped down the flight of stairs. This was a pretty big house—where would Snape be?

Harry walked through the house until he finally reached the dining room, where he found Snape. He sat on the other end of the table; Snape never looked up as he tipped the cup up to his lips and took a sip.

“So do you do this often, sir?” Harry asked.

Snape briefly looked up. “Do what?”

“Just… sit. Staring,” Harry elaborated. “Like you are now.”

“Occasionally,” Snape responded.

They slipped under another blanket of silence. This had been happening frequently now, Harry realized as his eyes wandered the room.

“What was my name? My full name?” Harry asked conversationally, his eyes drifting back towards Snape.

Snape silently caught Harry's eye. “Harry Severus Snape.”

Harry gave his head a nod. “Right.” He tilted his head to the side. “Was I happy here?”

As the four words slipped out of his mouth, Harry realized how odd it sounded. He just wanted to know—after all, he kept thinking of the cold, sour Potions Professor back in his reality, and Harry couldn't imagine that Snape ever being nice to him… or treating him like a father would to a son.

It was a thought that seemed impossible.

“I'm quite sure you were,” Snape said, then added more confidently, “In fact, I am positive that you were.”

After another silent moment that wasn't becoming new to Harry, he asked tentatively, “So… you… really won't help me get back?”

Snape merely took another sip from his teacup. Harry waited rather impatiently until Snape replied.

“No,” Snape answered briefly.

Harry sighed. “I guess I'll just have to get help from Dumbledore.”

Snape gave his head a sharp nod. “Very well.”

“So even if, to get back, it involved a potion—you wouldn't make it?” Harry hesitantly asked.

Snape seemed to ponder the question thoughtfully before briefly saying, “No.”

Harry let out a sigh. It seemed that this Snape was just as stubborn as the other surly one. Then again, Harry was always just as stubborn.

Harry pushed his chair back and stood up, catching Snape's attention.

“Where are you going?”

“Upstairs,” Harry replied. “To the—the bedroom.”

Snape gave a small nod, and Harry started towards the stairs. What if he could never find a way back? What if he ended up having to stay in this… dimension forever?

Harry shuddered as he entered the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he could be able to see himself in the mirror. Harry pushed his fringe back, noticing that he still had the lightning bolt scar.

Harry dropped his hand, turning as he heard a noise in the doorway.

“How'd you know to trust me?” asked Harry. “That I wasn't an imposter, or—or—”

“Your eyes,” Snape answered in a quiet voice. “You've always had honest eyes, Harry. All your emotions are shown through those eyes. They tell one everything.” He suddenly cleared his throat, his voice becoming louder. “Well, lunch is on the table. Are you coming?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, just one minute.”

He waited until Snape left before turning his attention back to the mirror. He got up and walked closer, staring intently at his eyes. He couldn't really see his emotions in them—but then again, maybe it was only something Snape could do.

With one last look, Harry was able to tear himself away from the mirror and go downstairs. All the way, he wondered how he was ever going to be able to go back home, out of this…what was it? Reality, dimension, place; whatever it was to be called.

And it had to be before Hogwarts started up again. Besides, how could it be explained to everyone that—even though this wasn't the right Harry that everyone here had came to know—this Harry was alive again?

“What are you going to do today?”

Startled at the sudden question the next morning, Harry nearly dropped his cup. For the longest time it had been quiet between Harry and Snape, other than a "Good morning" when he'd first woke up. Blushing, Harry cleared his throat.

“I'm not sure. Maybe—maybe I'll talk to Dumbledore about helping me get back. You'll help me with that… won't you?” Harry hesitated, staring at Snape across the table. Harry's toast lay on his plate, untouched. He wasn't really hungry that morning.

Snape didn't answer right away; he looked torn between saying no and yes. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Harry, Snape finally said, “Yes, I will.” Though, he didn't look too happy.

A grin slipped onto Harry's face. “OK, good.”

Harry picked up his cup again and took another sip of juice, giving Snape an odd look as he found the Potions Master staring at him.

“What?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Why aren't you eating anything?”

Harry glanced down at the toast on his plate. “I'm not very hungry,” he said as he looked back up at Snape. He began to fidget a little under Snape's gaze, until—

“You feel uncomfortable, don't you?” Snape said, tipping the teacup to his lips. His face remained blank.

Harry stared in surprise. “N—no I don't.” After staring silently at Snape for several minutes, Harry let out a sigh of defeat. “I'm just… still getting used to… y'know. This. It's different and… confusing. Sir, if you don't mind, I'd like to know everything that, well, happened. Here.”

“I'll tell you everything,” Snape started slowly, “On two conditions.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, hesitating. “What conditions?”

“One would be that you eat something, and second would be for you to desist with calling me 'Sir'.”

Harry slowly nodded. “What do I call you then? Professor?”

“We're not in school yet,” Snape pointed out. “Considering the circumstances, I'm sure Severus will do fine.”

“Okay,” Harry said, although he wondered if he could manage it. Calling Severus Snape, no matter which Snape it may be, by his first name would take some getting used to. “So you'll tell me?”

“As soon as you eat something,” Snape said, his eyes briefly flickering to the plate in front of Harry.

“Oh… right…” As Harry picked up his toast, he could feel Snape's eyes on him. Did he really want to know what happened? Everything? Harry decided that he did. It'd at least quell his curiosity.

--

“All right,” Harry started uncomfortably after he had finished his breakfast. “So… here, or… where?”

“Where would you be most comfortable to talk?” Snape questioned.

Harry hesitated. Just being here wasn't comfortable; not only in Snape's manor, but in this body that wasn't familiar to Harry. In this time. Finally, he suggested the lounge. After all, whenever Dudley Dursley had ever talked to his parents about something—like when he talked to them about buying him a new computer, or other types of presents like that—it would occasionally take place in the lounge.

So that's where they went.

“How's your head? Does it sting any?” asked Snape. Harry shook his head in response as he sat down on the couch.

“Not that much anymore,” Harry replied. Then something dawned on him. “Oh, my wand,” he groaned, closing his eyes. “It snapped in two when I fell.”

“Did you fall on it?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I'm not really sure anymore. I might've.”

“You know,” Snape started slowly, looking almost as if he regretted saying what was coming out of his mouth. “Your wand—here—is somewhere in the house—”

Harry quickly shook his head. “I couldn't do that, S—Severus.” Harry inwardly winced as he almost slipped with, “Sir.”

“No, no, quite right,” Snape agreed quickly, looking relieved. Harry could tell that Snape wasn't that ready to part with the wand, since it was this-dimension-Harry's wand. “What is it that you wanted to know, Harry?”

“Everything,” Harry answered. “Start at… well, start at the beginning.”

Snape hesitated, but said nothing. Harry wondered if the Potions professor was trying to come up with a way to start explaining what Harry wanted to know, about what his life had been like here.

“Tell me… tell me how you came to raise me,” Harry said. “What happened to my parents? Or… to my mum and James?” Harry wasn't sure what to call them here.

“The Dark Lord killed Lily and James Potter," Snape started, practically spitting out the word. "I assume that's how it is in your reality as well?” Harry nodded wordlessly. Snape continued, looking rather uneasy. “I… went to where they were staying and found you. So… I took you.”

Harry nodded again, opening his mouth to say something. Then, as if Snape had read his mind, he said, “I was teaching Potions at Hogwarts a month or so before… before what happened. At first I tried taking you to Hogwarts; getting anyone that could to look after you whilst I taught. It wasn't working out as gratifyingly as I had hoped. You were too young at the time.”

“So, what did you do?” Harry asked.

Snape curled his lip in disgust. “I had somebody look after you, out of Hogwarts.”

Harry paused. “Who?”

Lip still curled, Snape replied, “Sirius Black.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Who?”

“I don't know about your reality,” Snape said, as though he disliked the word. He probably did. “But Lily had made friends with Potter's best friend: Sirius Black. They made him your godfather, though I never liked him.”

“My godfather,” Harry repeated, dazed. He wondered if, back home, there was a Sirius Black who was his godfather, too. “What happened?”

“I thought that Black had betrayed them, as did everyone else,” Snape admitted. “Barty Crouch was going to send Black to Azkaban without a trial; I, however, wanted to know the truth. Who had caused Lily to die…”

“Did he?” Harry asked softly.

“No.”

“So, what happened to him then?”

“Well, they used Veritaserum and he didn't go to Azkaban. Instead, he was free; the Ministry eventually caught Peter Pettigrew—who was the one that had betrayed Lily and Potter.”

“Where is he now?” Harry asked.

“Ever since you—rather, the otherHarry—ever since he… ever since he passed on, Black hasn't been around as much as he used to. Of course, I'm complaining. Though, it is partly his house, too.”

“Oh,” Harry said softly. “So, while you were teaching at Hogwarts… you let Sirius Black take care of me?”

“Indeed,” Severus answered. “Though I ended up beginning to miss you more than I had thought I would. That's why I had created two extra rooms in my chambers for you and Black. That way I was closer to you, and you were also a little older. Much easier to look after at Hogwarts.”

“Why for Sirius, too? I thought you didn't like him?”

“It seemed as though Black had grown attached to you, just as I had.”

“And then… this Harry died when he tried to save the Philosophers Stone,” Harry said, though it wasn't a question. “That's the only really bad thing about this place.”

Snape raised his eyebrows. “The only bad thing?”

“Sure,” Harry said, nodding. “This Harry had a family, and what seems like a pretty nice life. Then he died trying to do something that I actually did, except… I didn't die.” Harry sighed, and then decided not to say anything more. He felt guilty for making Snape look so… hurt.

“So it seems as if there's one thing in each reality that isn't quite fair,” Snape said, elaborating at Harry's brief, confused look. “For one, you didn't have much of a family that loved you, did you?”

Harry shook his head. “No.” He saw what Snape was saying now. “I think I want to speak to Professor Dumbledore now, Severus.” The name sounded rusty and unusual coming off his tongue.

Snape looked thoughtful, but only for a brief second. “No.”

Harry stared at Snape in surprise. “I—I'm beginning to hate that word. I thought you said that you'd get Dumbledore for me, so I could talk to him?”

“Oh, I did,” Snape agreed lightly. “I just don't feel like getting him right now.”

“When will you feel like getting him for me?” Harry watched, eyes wide and Snape stood up.

“Hm. That's a good question,” said Snape, before he walked out of the room.

“I guess I'm just going to have to write to him myself, aren't I?” Harry called after him. Snape didn't reply. Then Harry realized that he didn't have his owl, and he doubted that Snape would let him use his, if Snape even had one. Harry also realized that he didn't have anything else that he brought with him from the Dursleys. They must've still been back in the other reality.

Harry sat, staring into space. Snape wasn't going to make this easy for him.

Harry sat in front of the mirror, staring at the person that insisted to stare back. Himself. Just… a different him. It seemed like he'd been doing this a lot lately.

“Having fun?”

Harry looked up at Severus's voice. “It's different,” he acknowledged. “I'm getting used to it, though.”

“Don't get too used to it,” Severus said. “You're still planning on leaving, correct?”

“Yes,” said Harry as he nodded. “I am. You still plan on getting Dumbledore for me tomorrow, right? Tomorrow.”

Severus looked grumpy. “Perhaps. I suggest that you go to sleep now, it's late.”

Harry ignored the sudden change in subject, but tore himself away from the mirror and climbed into the bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. “This is a really nice bed, Severus. Much better than the mattress in the cupboard at the Dursleys and in Dudley's second bedroom.”

“I'm… glad you like it,” Severus said, a rather uncomfortable look crossing his face. “Now, goodnight. Sleep… well.”

The awkward “goodnight”s from Severus hadn't been new to Harry.

“Can I meet Sirius?” Harry asked suddenly, before Severus had a chance to turn off the light and leave. “I'd like to.”

“I don't think that's such a good idea,” Severus answered. “Black would end up wanting you to stay, then you'd never be able to go back like you want to. He'd make a fool of himself trying to make you stay.” Harry could've sworn he heard Severus add quietly, “Then on the other hand, that's not such a bad idea….” But he wasn't completely certain.

“Okay,” Harry agreed, though he was disappointed. “Hey Severus, you said yesterday—or was it two days ago?—that you were a Death Eater. Could you—could you tell me what that means? Please?” Harry added quickly.

Severus was quiet. “Do we need to do this now? Why not wait until tomorrow morning? It's late, Harry.”

“I'm not tired,” Harry insisted quickly. He remembered when Severus had said that he was a Death Eater, he had added “a spy” afterwards. “Honestly. So—so Death Eater… does that mean a spy? Who do you spy for? Why do you spy?”

Severus sighed, looking exhausted. “Tomorrow, Harry. Get some rest.”

Harry didn't say anything as Severus turned off the light, and he was bathed in darkness. He couldn't fight back his smile as realization washed over him. Drenched him completely. Severus Snape was acting… like a father. In all honesty, he had been ever since Harry had opened his eyes after his fall and saw the potions master beside him.

Harry liked it. He liked having somebody worry for him. Most of all, he liked having somebody care for him. Harry knew his friends cared for him, of course—and Mrs Weasley was almost like a mother to him. This, however, was different.

This was completely different. This was Severus Snape. Harry made a face, but then shook it off. No. This was Severus Snape—his father. The opposite from the Snape he originally knew.

No, Harry argued with himself. This reality-Harry's father, not his. But… could he ever think of this Severus Snape as his father?

No—

Harry groaned out loud. He really wasn't liking that word anymore. He sat up, blindly reaching out for his glasses in the dark. When he finally felt them, he picked them up and put them on. He got up and, arms out in front of him, made sure that he didn't bang into anything on his way out of the room.

The corridors of the manor seemed different at night. Quieter. The corridors during the day were just as quiet—but the thought of Severus probably asleep in his own room just made the corridors seem more deserted. Made the large house seem more deserted.

Harry slowly walked down the stairs, stopping when he was near the bottom. Where were the kitchens again? Did he turn right, or left… and then did he turn a corner and go through a door on the right? Or did he turn right and then—?

He considered going back up to ask Severus where the kitchens were, but maybe there was somewhere else that was more easy to find where he could get a glass of water? He was a little unsure about going up to ask Severus... what if he ended up getting angry at Harry for disturbing him?

He wouldn't, Harry told himself. He's not like Snape. He's different.

That word again. Different. But, that's what this was. Different.

Harry turned around to go back up the stairs, but then froze. His eyes widened, and he let out an uncomfortable sound, that almost resembled a snort. Or a laugh. Harry wasn't quite sure which—maybe it wasn't even any of the above.

“H—hullo, Severus,” Harry said, giving a weak smile at the man who stood at the top of the staircase. “I wasn't loud, was I?”

“No,” Severus replied, his voice and face remaining emotionless. “I did hear you out here, though. What are you up to?”

“I was thirsty,” Harry explained. “I… kind of forgot where the kitchens were. I'm allowed getting a drink, aren't I?” Harry blushed. “Sorry, I should've asked first.”

Severus frowned. “Why would you need to ask? It's your house too—I mean, of course, you're a guest,” he corrected, catching himself. “You don't need to ask whether you can get a drink or not. It's unheard of.”

“I don't know where the kitchen is,” Harry said again after a moment. “I—I'm not really tired, anyways.”

Severus's eyebrows rose as he came down the flight of stairs. “So you merely want a cup of water because… you don't want to go to bed?”

Harry tried to confine his grin that threatened to appear on his face. “Well… sorta. Next maybe I'll want some pancakes. Then maybe chips… Ooh, fish and chips. Perhaps even a whole gateau. All tonight, please and thank you.”

“All of this tonight?” Severus looked amused.

Harry followed Severus down the rest of the stairs and down the corridor. Finding the kitchen wasn't exactly that difficult, as Harry had imagined it to be. Once they were past the dining room and in the corridor, there was a door on the right, which lead to the kitchens. It was very clean; much like the rest of the house. Everything was in a rich, dark maple color. Harry went over and sat on a stool at the counter.

“Yep, all tonight,” Harry said, answering Severus's question. “I figure that after all that—and possibly more—that I won't get a chance to sleep. I'm really very awake. Not tired at all.”

“After all that,” Severus said, opening a cabinet to retrieve a glass, “I'd imagine that you'd be sick to your stomach. A whole gateau? Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Both,” said Harry, grinning. “It'd be both chocolate and vanilla; a swirl. With… chocolate icing and lots of cherries on top.”

Severus held the cup under the tap as he let the cold water run, filling it up. “Oh, well, then I was wrong. You wouldn't be sick to your stomach at all.”

The grin remained on Harry's face as he noticed the sarcasm woven in-between each word. “Thanks,” he said, as Severus handed him the cup of water. He sat at the counter, his elbows resting on it as he drank the water.

“You realize that after you finish that cup of water that you're going back to bed, right?”

Harry, the cup still to his lips, stared at Severus. He slowly pulled the cup away and glanced down. With a smile, he held the empty cup out to Severus and asked, “More, please?”

Severus gave Harry an amused look, before turning the tap on again and taking the cup away from Harry, holding it under the running water.

“How many more cups are you going to have until you finally agree to go to bed, Mr Snape?” came the teasing question.

There was a brief silence as Severus must've realized his mistake. He kept the cup under the water until it began to overflow, and Harry cleared his throat.

“T—the water, Severus?”

Severus seemed to come out of his trance as he quickly turned the tap off and handed the cup back over to Harry.

“It's fine,” Harry said as he wrapped both hands tightly around the cup. He gave a small grin. “Technically, I am a Snape. I—I do have Snape blood running through my veins,” he added unhelpfully.

Severus nodded, distracted. He looked as though he wasn't paying much attention to what Harry was saying. He probably wasn't.

Harry, uncomfortable with the sudden silence between them, took a sip of his water.

“Well, you must go back to bed now; you can bring your water with you,” Severus said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“O—okay,” Harry replied, getting off the stool. Severus remained quiet as he lead Harry back to the bedroom; Harry held his cup of water as they left. He didn't say anything either, but followed Severus up the stairs.

Harry went back to bed, setting the water on his nightstand as Severus began to shut the door.

“Goodnight—and I suggest that you make no more trips for water,” Severus said. “No matter how much you want to stay up.”

Harry nodded in response. He lay on his back, staring up the ceiling. He just couldn't seem to go to sleep.

--

Severus sat in bed, feeling exhausted. He couldn't seem to grasp the fact that, sleeping in the next room, was Harry. A different Harry, yes, but still Harry nonetheless.

How could that boy possibly be the son of James Potter? He was so different.

Severus remembered when he found Harry laying in the foyer. Bloody and unconscious, and the way his heart had skipped a beat at the sight—and then dropped when he found that it wasn't the same Harry that he'd lost at Hogwarts sixty-four days ago.

Sixty-four days. Well, that was three days ago, so it had really been sixty-seven days since his Harry had died. Three days ago since he found this Harry in the foyer.

Really, “this” Harry wasn't so bad. He reminded him so much of his Harry. Not just the appearance—and Severus had even begun to wonder what Harry looked like in his other reality—but the personality. There were few differences between the two personalities—but this was good. No matter, it was like… like he was being given a second chance with Harry.

Now, if only the boy wasn't so certain to go back. Severus wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to put it off. Couldn't he just ask Harry not to go back? That he was needed here? He was wanted here?

He couldn't do that. He couldn't ask Harry something like that…

Could he?

No… perhaps he couldn't.

--

As Severus slowly made his way down the flight of stairs that led to the foyer the next morning, he froze as the door opened to reveal a very familiar person step into the house.

“You don't knock?” Severus greeted grumpily.

The person scowled. “Do you want me to go back out and knock this time?”

“No, you're in here anyways,” Severus muttered as he continued down the stairs. He immediately thought of Harry as he stood in front of the guest, who was looking rather uncomfortable. There was no way he'd let anyone see Harry yet.

What was he doing here, anyways? Echoing his thoughts, Severus hissed, “What are you doing here?”

Sirius Black stood uncomfortably on the threshold, staring at the double doors as if waiting for them to magically open. He hadn't stood in front of these doors in a while. Ever since…

Letting out a breath, Sirius twisted the doorknob and stepped into the manor. Really, shouldn't Snape at least lock the door? Anybody could've just walked right in. Like he just did.

Sirius was immediately greeted by a grumpy-looking Severus Snape.

“You don't knock?”

Sirius scowled, folding his arms across his chest. “Do you want me to go back out and knock this time?”

“No, you're in here anyway,” Severus answered, looking tired. Sirius felt awkward being in this house again, after being away from it for so long. There were just too many memories to do with Harry—he couldn't face them just yet. Sirius had tried not to think about Harry too much, ever since the funeral. How could he, when it hurt every bloody time?

Not thinking about Harry, not mourning him, not cherishing the memories that Sirius had with the boy, hurt just as much.

“What are you doing here?” Severus hissed as he continued down the stairs. Sirius frowned, shrugging.

“You know… just came to say hi. Hi.”

“At ten o'clock in the morning?” Severus raised his eyebrows as he now stood in front of Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. He didn't really want to admit to Severus that he felt guilty for not visiting. Sirius had a feeling that Severus really didn't have many visitors lately, and being alone in the huge house must've been… lonely.

He took in the sight of the foyer before he answered. It hadn't changed since the last time he was here. It was large, with a staircase to the right leading to the top floor. To the left was the dining room, and then the right led to the lounge, as well.

“So Snape. Are you going to invite me in for breakfast?” Sirius put on an innocent smile. “I really had nothing for breakfast this morning.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” Severus responded sarcastically. “As much as I would love your company for breakfast, Black, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

Sirius frowned as Severus turned away and began to go to the dining room. Sirius followed closely behind him.

“Leave? I just got here! What's wrong?”

Severus scowled, though Sirius couldn't see. He sat down by the table, and was annoyed to find that Sirius took a seat across from him.

“Nothing is wrong,” said Severus. “I am just… very busy.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “With what?”

“With… something,” Severus answered uncomfortably. The scowl remained on his face. “Just please go, will you? Don't make this so difficult.”

“Difficult,” Sirius echoed in disbelief. “Me? Difficult? I just came to see how you were holding up—I'm not difficult at all!”

“I'm touched that you'd think of me, Black,” Severus said. Sirius frowned at the sarcasm. “I am fine, however. So now that you saw how I was holding up, you can leave now, correct?”

Sirius eyed Severus suspiciously. “Why do you want me to leave so badly?”

Severus was about to answer, but he froze, his eyes widening as he took saw the boy appear behind Sirius. He tried to think of a way to get Harry to leave without Sirius noticing, but came up with nothing. Severus let out a defeated sigh.

“Sev'rus?”

Harry rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. He blinked a few times, just noticing the stranger sitting across from Severus. Harry took a seat by Severus, the blanket that he had brought with him was wrapped tightly around him.

Harry gave the stranger an uncomfortable smile. “Hullo. Who're you?”

“Wha—what did you do?” Sirius finally spoke up softly, at last finding his voice. He stared at Harry in horror, and Harry could only stare back in confusion.

“I did nothing,” Severus answered calmly.

“You did something!” Sirius's voice grew louder. “Tha—that's Harry, Snape! Harry! We buried him! You must've done something, because it's not possible for that boy to still be there, sitting beside you, breathing!”

“You will lower your voice,” Severus growled, narrowing his eyes at Sirius. “I did nothing. Now will you keep calm? You're scaring him.”

Sirius didn't take his eyes off Harry as he spoke. “Tell me what happened. Tell me why he's here. Tell me what you did.”

Severus glared. “For the last time Black, I did nothing!”

“I'm gonna go lay down again,” Harry said quietly from beside Severus. “N—nice meeting you,” Harry added weakly as he stood. As he walked past the man for the second time, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the way the man was staring at him. In disbelief.

--

Harry sat up in bed, waiting until the man and Severus would stop arguing until he could go back downstairs. He was staring at his blanket, listening intently to the loud voices downstairs, but that's when they stopped. Harry struggled, holding his breath to see if he could hear more voices. It seemed they had stopped arguing—which was a sign that Harry just might be able to go downstairs again. His tore his gaze away from the blanket as he heard a noise in the doorway.

The man from downstairs stood, or rather leaned, against the doorframe. He looked hesitant and uncertain. Harry wondered who he was, but could only remember Severus referring to him as “Black”. But who would name their child “Black”, unless it was a nickname or a last name?

“Hi there, Harry,” the man said with a ghost of a smile as he approached Harry's bed. “You might not really remember me—or do you? No, no, I s'pose not. Erm…”

Harry only stared, tilting his head to the side. He waited patiently for the man to continue.

“Sirius Black,” he said after a moments pause. “That—that's me. I, uh… Snape told me about what happened. About the 'realities.'” Sirius sat on the bed. “It's… complicated, huh?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “You're my godfather, aren't you? At least… this Harry's godfather, anyway…”

“Nah,” Sirius said brightly, with a grin, “I can be your godfather too. Why not? Am I… in your reality, I mean—?”

Harry shook his head. “I don't know, honestly. I've never heard about you before.”

Sirius nodded slowly, glancing down at his hands before fidgeting slightly and looking back up at Harry. “Do you feel like telling me about your reality?” He grinned sheepishly. “I'm curious.”

Harry hesitated before he said, “I guess… there's really not much to tell. I live with my aunt, uncle and cousin and… I go to Hogwarts. I'm in Gryffindor and I'm thirteen.”

Sirius nodded again. “Okay, well… and Snape? Does he still teach at Hogwarts? Is he your father?”

“Yeah, he teaches at Hogwarts.” Harry groaned as he shifted his position. His leg hurt from sitting on it for so long. “I don't think he's my father though. James Potter is.”

Sirius brightened. “Really? Interesting, interesting… funny how I'm not in your reality. Or you don't know me.” He frowned, and then looked worried. “What if James and I weren't friends?” The thought seemed to horrify Sirius. “That's not fair.”

Harry grinned sleepily, shrugging his shoulders. “I'm not sure. I don't know much about my dad. Or my mum, really.”

“Did the same thing happen to them as it did here?” Sirius asked, his voice getting slightly softer.

Harry nodded, and there was a silence that lasted only momentarily between them.

“You're going to stay here, aren't you?” Sirius asked, grinning again. “I think you'll like it. It might take a while to get used to Snape… I've been around here a while and I'm still not that quite used to him yet.”

“I—I don't know,” Harry stammered, “if I'm going to—to stay here or not. I think I really should go back, though, my friends might be worried…”

Sirius frowned. “You're thinking of leaving?” Sirius shook his head, disappointed. “I really feel sorry for Snape now.”

Harry returned the frown. “What do you mean? Did he get you to say this?”

Sirius shook his head again. “No, no. He didn't get me to say anything. I'm just saying—and it's coming from me. Just me, Harry—that… he lost his son once, and then it's just going to happen all over again? It must be… horrible, actually.”

“People back home might be worried if they find that I disappeared,” Harry said softly. “I don't know what's happening back there… but they might…”

Sirius nodded, with a half-hearted grin. “I understand, I guess. There must be something important back in your reality that makes you want to go back so badly, huh?”

“No, not really. It's pretty much the same here as it is back there, except that here this Harry has a family and that, back home, Severus Snape isn't my father,” Harry said.

Sirius seemed to notice the wound on Harry's head. “How did that happen?”

Harry touched the bandage. “I hit my head when I fell. I think I'll take it off soon, the bleeding has probably stopped.”

“Interrogating Harry, are you, Black?” Severus asked from the doorway. Sirius turned his head to look at Severus and gave an embarrassed grin.

“I was just asking a few questions,” Sirius muttered as he stood up. He gave Harry another lopsided grin before stepping past Severus, out of the room.

“So that's Sirius Black,” Harry said, staring at the spot where Sirius had been sitting.

“That's Sirius Black,” Severus echoed, nodding. “Do you feel all right, Harry? You look a little sick. I do suppose, however, that Black may have that effect on people.”

Harry grinned as he pulled the blankets off and stood up. “Nope, I feel fine. How long is Sirius going to be staying for? Will he be staying here? Is it breakfast yet?”

Severus gave Harry a look. “For Merlin's sake child, one question at a time! How could you possibly produce so many questions at once?”

Harry grinned, walking out of the bedroom with Severus by his side. “I guess it's a gift. So how long is Sirius going to be staying for?”

“I'm not quite sure,” Severus answered honestly as they went down the flight of stairs, into the foyer. “You should ask him.”

“Ask who what?”

Sirius appeared again, coming out of the dining area to meet Severus and Harry. “Breakfast's ready, by the way. You should hurry up before it all gets cold. Well, before the hot stuff gets cold, anyway. I've always loved Nome's French toast.”

Harry followed Severus and Sirius into the dining room, taking his usual place at the table since he arrived at the manor. It was piled with more food than usual, Harry noticed, and suspected that Sirius had asked Nome to make a few extra things since he was obviously staying for breakfast.

“So, Snape,” Sirius started casually. His eyes flickered onto Harry. “Can I—can I ask how you knew that it was actually Harry you found that day? It could've been anyone taking on the appearance of him.”

“His eyes,” Severus explained curtly, just as he had when Harry asked. “I could tell by his eyes.”

“Of course,” Sirius said, nodding his head. “I forgot that little thing that you used to be able to do with Harry. Like that time when I bought Harry that toy broom, which rose only a little in the air. Then he fell because—”

“Because you weren't paying attention to him,” Severus interjected, giving Sirius a look.

“Because I was distracted for a minute,” Sirius corrected, returning the look. Severus didn't bother to argue. “And when you asked where he got the bruise from, he lied to you, and you were able to tell that he was lying because you could see it in his eyes.” Sirius tilted his head to the side. “Why'd he lie to you about it, again? He never really used to lie to you… or any of us.”

“I didn't want Harry riding that broom without me there to watch over him,” Severus reminded Sirius. “He could've gotten hurt—which he did.”

“Ah, that's right.” Sirius smiled. “He didn't want me to get in trouble.”

Harry, as he tried a piece of the French toast Sirius had been talking about, kept his eyes down on his plate. He wished that he could remember that day, though he knew he could never because it wasn't really him who had that memory. It wasn't like he had amnesia—he had nothing to remember.

--

Later that day, Harry had found out that—after a very loud “discussion” about it—Sirius would be staying until the end of the summer. If Harry did decide to go back, he wondered if Sirius actually would stay until the summer was over. Severus would be going back to Hogwarts, too. What if Harry did decide to stay here though? It was all so tempting.

Harry sat in the lounge, staring into the burning fire that he had asked Severus to light. He had never actually sat in front of a real fire before, to just enjoy it. Though it was still summertime, Harry didn't mind the heat. It was relaxing. Severus and Sirius said they both didn't mind it much, either. Besides, it wasn't a hot day out. It was grey, dull, cold and raining quite violently out. The fire just warmed the house up.

Harry turned around when he heard somebody behind him. It was only Severus.

“Some time,” Harry started slowly, turning his gaze back to the fire as Severus sat down on the couch near Harry, “before I go back—” If I decide to go back, Harry thought to himself, and then continued, “—we should get marshmallows and roast them. I've never done that before.”

“Yes,” Severus said uncomfortably, his brow furrowing as Harry's eyes immediately swerved back onto him. “We—what are you staring at?”

Harry blushed as Severus noticed his stare, and he immediately averted his eyes, muttering, “Sorry.”

“What's the matter?” Severus asked, the frown still placed on his face.

“I—I've just never seen you in green before,” Harry said. He coughed, briefly meeting Severus's gaze again. “I just mean… back—well, back—the different you always just wore black… whenever I saw him, anyway,” Harry added quickly.

“Things are different,” Severus reminded him, falling silent afterwards.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, his eyes drifting back onto the fire that roared in the handsome fireplace. “I know they are.”

Harry walked down the stairs the next morning sleepily. He was surprised to see Sirius sitting at the table in the dining area; he had honestly forgot about Sirius staying at the manor.

“Good morning,” Sirius greeted cheerfully, turning around in his chair to look at Harry.

“Morning,” Harry replied. Sirius's cheerfulness must've been contagious, Harry found. “Morning, Severus.”

“Good morning, Harry. I trust you slept well?” Severus questioned, sipping on his drink.

“Yes, I did.”

Harry sat down in the chair, turning around to face Sirius. Sirius's happy expression turned to one of worry as he asked, “You're not going to talk to Dumbledore today, are you?”

“I don't know,” Harry replied slowly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Why?”

Sirius returned the confused look. “Because of the “different reality” situation?” he explained.

Harry's eyes widened. “Oh, right! Uhm…” Harry shook his head. “N—not today, I don't think.”

Sirius didn't bother to hide his pleased grin. “Great! That'll give us lots of time to bond.” Glancing quickly at Severus, Sirius added, “But don't worry, Snape! You'll get your fair share of bonding with Harry before he goes back! Besides, you've had him a whole few extra days before I came.”

“Indeed,” Severus drawled. To Harry, he said, “Breakfast will be ready soon. Did you plan on doing anything today other than 'bonding' with Black?”

“I dunno,” Harry replied. He could tell that Severus had become uncomfortable when Sirius brought up Harry's going back. “Thank you, Severus.”

Why had he just thanked Severus? For what, though? Everything, probably, Harry mentally answered himself. For giving him a place to stay, for agreeing to sometime get Dumbledore so Harry could speak to him… for being nice to him.

Severus merely inclined his head, clearly at a loss of how to respond. Instead, before they could all slip under a blanket of silence, Sirius spoke up.

“So, do you feel like spending time with me today?” he questioned.

It was Severus who gave Sirius the suspicious look and answered with, “What did you have in mind, Black?”

Sirius looked at Severus. “Well… I dunno. Maybe take him outside for a while? Let him get some fresh air?”

“It's up to you,” Severus said to Harry, who eagerly nodded.

“Sure, I'd like to,” Harry said.

“On one condition, of course,” Severus said thoughtfully, gazing at Harry. “I only wish you to ignore Black if he tells you to do something, Harry. It would only lead to trouble; it's what he is. Trouble.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Severus, his mouth parting in surprise. “I resent that!” Sirius said, giving Severus a scowl. “So, if Harry was trapped in a burning building and I told him to run, to—to get out, you would want him to ignore me and stay there?”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “What would you be doing in a burning building, Black? I assume that Harry would have enough sense to get out of the building, anyway, without you telling him to do so.”

An exasperated look crossed Sirius's face. “It was only hypothetical, Snape.”

Severus turned his attention back to Harry. “Well then, Harry, let me rephrase: whenever you're around Sirius Black, then I implore you to use your common sense.”

Harry nodded, a smile tugging at the two corners of his mouth. “I will.”

Sirius scoffed. “I can't believe, after you and I raised Harry—all right, well maybe “you” a little more than “I”—and… you still don't trust me!”

“Yes, it's quite remarkable, isn't it?” Severus replied sarcastically.

But whether Severus and Sirius forgot the fact that the Harry they were talking about no longer existed, Harry wasn't sure. He, however, really didn't bother to correct them.

--

Severus had insisted, before Sirius left with Harry, that Sirius not keep Harry out too long. Sirius eventually agreed, though, at first, Sirius had enjoyed giving the potions master a tough time about it.

When Severus finally let Sirius and Harry go, Harry was immediately greeted by a blast of warm sunshine as he stepped out onto the threshold. It really was a very colorful town, Harry noticed as he walked through the green lawn with Sirius by his side. It seemed like it was a small town, as well.

“I know,” Sirius said with a chuckle as he followed Harry onto the sidewalk, though Harry hadn't said anything. “It must be amazing to associate Snape with this town. I helped him pick it out, though—the house, I mean. The place Snape originally lived in… well, it wasn't fit for you to live there, too. Dark, dreary… small.”

Harry looked up at Sirius in interest before gazing around. Lots of trees, houses and shops decorated the streets. Everywhere looked friendly.

“So when Snape asked me to look after you for a while, I helped him pick out a decent place for you to stay. For me to stay, too, actually… since I was the one who was looking after you…”

Harry listened intently as Sirius spoke, feeling relaxed. It must've been the sun that made him feel so calm and peaceful.

“Then didn't you—or we—end up staying at Hogwarts?” Harry questioned.

“Yep,” replied Sirius with a nod. “No matter how many times Snape visited when he could, it still seemed he wasn't close enough to you, no matter if he was only a Floo away or not. So, we ended up staying at Hogwarts some of the time. Occasionally we'd go back to the house… once in a while…”

Just then, Sirius's watch began to beep, and he glanced down at it with a frown, stopping in his tracks as he peered down, studying it.

“What's wrong with this thing? Why is it beeping?”

Sirius continued to walk forward to where Harry was standing, though his gaze was more focused on his watch. He began to tap it when it wouldn't stop beeping. His frown became more pronounced as he became more frustrated.

“Stupid muggle watch!” He hissed, tapping it some more. “How do you turn the bloody beeping off? It's driving me bonkers.”

Harry opened his mouth, trying to help—but then merely shook his head. He didn't have a clue of how they could get the beeping to stop.

“It should just go off on its own,” Harry tried unhelpfully. “It could be faulty or just… broken.”

Sirius sighed, looking defeated. He fumbled with the strap as he tried to take it off his wrist. When he was finally successful in taking the watch off, he threw it on the ground and flashed Harry a quick smile.

“Come on then, I'll race you. How about it?”

Harry tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Race you… where?”

The grin still played across Sirius's face, but he didn't answer Harry's question. Instead, he said, “We should be careful since… well, we can't let anybody see you in this town, really.”

Harry's brow furrowed as he frowned. “What do you mean? Why?”

Sirius didn't answer that question, either. He then began to run, and Harry laughed as he chased after him… though he had absolutely no idea where Sirius was running off to.

--

It was a piece of paper on the floor in his study that caught Severus's attention. He had no idea what it was from as he muttered what was written on it under his breath. It made absolutely no sense. Severus threw the paper aside, frowning as he repeated the words in his head. It sounded as if those words were in a different language. That, or just made up. He gave his head a small shake, swaying on the spot as a sudden dizziness washed over him.

He grabbed onto the side of his desk to support himself from falling. What was going on? Why did he feel so…

Severus slumped to the ground, his back resting against one of the legs of the desk. His stomach dropped, as if he were falling. Large, invisible hands snaked across his waist and jerked Severus forward.

Then it all stopped, and Severus just felt tired. Exhausted.

He drifted off to sleep, cursing the paper that he had read, because he knew it had something to do with what he was going through right then.

--

“Snape is going to kill me,” Sirius groaned as he and Harry shuffled into the house, soaking wet. He shook his head as if he were a dog, causing Harry to jump back and laugh.

“I know how to swim a little now, though, because of you,” Harry pointed out brightly. “I never really knew how to swim before—but you know that now, obviously.”

Sirius chuckled. “Yeah, I do.”

“Were we even allowed in that lake, or whatever it was, Sirius?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows as Sirius gave his shoulders a slow shrug. “I'm going to go find Severus,” he said, before running up the stairs to the top floor. Though, in this house, Harry had no idea where he'd find the potions Professor.

--

“Wake up!” a voice hissed. “Wake up!”

Severus's eyes flew open as something roughly pushed him awake. Oh, how his head was throbbing! Every part of him ached.

Severus blinked, his blurry surroundings soon coming back into focus. There, in front of him, glaring suspiciously was—

No, it was impossible. It couldn't be, Severus thought, staring back at the person in disbelief.

It was—

--

“Sirius!” Harry called, emerging from the kitchens. He had a concerned face as he wandered through the house, searching for the adult.

Harry jumped as something walked out in front of him.

Sirius.

“You scared me,” Harry breathed, and then let out a sigh. “Sirius, I've looked everywhere, but I can't find Severus. There wasn't a note saying that he was going out, and the house seems completely empty except for us. I'm—I'm worried,” he admitted.

“I was looking around the house too,” Sirius said. “Snape's not here. He just… vanished.”

“How could he just vanish?” Harry wondered out loud, biting his lip. He slid down the wall, sitting down on the floor. “Without even telling us? It's not like him—is it?”

Sirius shook his head, sitting down on the floor beside Harry. “It's not like him at all. He used to always tell us—well, me or the other Harry—where he was going, if he ever went out.”

“Did you check his study?” Harry asked, glancing over at Sirius, who nodded. Harry nodded in agreement, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah, me too. Twice, actually.”

“Don't worry,” Sirius said softly after studying the look on Harry's face. “He'll show up somewhere.”

He was worried, Harry realized after a few minutes of sitting on the floor against the wall, silent. Both of them were worried.

Harry glanced over at Sirius, who was staring forward, into space. The house was eerily quiet, and Harry shuddered. Where on earth was Severus?

Severus stared silently at the suspicious person in front of him. He tried to think of something to say, but his mind could form no decent sentence. After all, what could one possibly say to their double?

“What are you?” The Severus Snape in front of Severus himself hissed. “Speak!”

Severus narrowed his eyes, staring at his clone in equal suspicion. “Where am I?”

“I demand to know who you are,” Snape answered.

“I'm Severus Snape,” Severus replied coolly. “Obviously, you are too. What year is this?”

Snape narrowed his eyes at Severus, just as Severus had done. It was almost as if he was looking in a mirror, though they both wore different robes. That seemed to be the only difference in appearance.

“Nineteen ninety-three,” Snape replied coldly. He stepped away from the look-a-like. “Now tell me what you are.”

Severus ignored the command, but slowly let his eyes travel around the room, taking every aspect of it in. It was familiar… but why? Then it dawned on him.

“I used to live here,” Severus murmured. “Before Harry…”

“Harry?” Snape repeated, looking disgusted. “Potter? Harry Potter—the precious 'boy who lived'? What does Potter have to do with this?”

Severus studied the man in front of him. Could this possibly be the reality that Harry had grown up in? Was he in Harry's reality? It was surely possible… but how would he be able to know?

“Harry,” Severus drawled. “Has he disappeared or—?”

Snape scowled. “How would I know? Now do tell me what you are—”

“Dumbledore,” Severus interrupted. “He'd know what to do. The fireplace, it's in that poor excuse for a living room, isn't it? Follow me.”

“Don't tell me what to do,” Snape growled, still acting wary towards his twin, though he followed anyway. His held onto his wand tightly. Though this clone hadn't tried anything yet, he wasn't going to let his guard down.

--

“This is horrible,” Harry moaned. He paced the foyer, glancing at the door every so often, as if the two french doors were about to swing open at any minute and Severus would glide through, the back of his robes billowing out behind him as they normally did when he walked swiftly. For the past twenty minutes in which he had been pacing, the doors didn't open.

Sirius leaned against the wall, watching Harry. “I know it is. If Snape doesn't show up soon Harry, we'll contact Dumbledore, all right?”

“I'm going to go check his study,” Harry announced suddenly after he stopped pacing.

“For the third time?” Sirius gave Harry a look. “We've already looked there, Harry. Nothing new is going to jump out at us, you know.”

“But you said that's usually where he always goes, to his study,” Harry pointed out. “What if he was there? What if—what if he was kidnapped, and the kidnapper left a clue there and we just missed it?”

“Kidnapped?” Sirius repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Who would want to kidnap Snape?”

“I have to do something,” Harry said suddenly, frowning. “I just can't stay here. I need to walk, or just keep myself preoccupied or something…”

“Harry,” Sirius tried gently, walking over to Harry's side. “Kiddo. You have been walking for the past twenty-three minutes. Why don't we get ourselves a drink, huh? Or you could take a shower and get into some dry clothes.” Sirius glanced down at his own clothes. “I need dry clothes too. We're still soaking.”

Harry shook his head, a determined look on his face. “I can't do that; Severus is missing. I'm not going to act as if it's normal.”

“It's not normal,” Sirius agreed. “But if you don't get dry clothes on you're going to get sick. So why don't you take a quick shower, put dry clothes on and then come back down to find a nice, cold drink waiting for you? Then after that you can pace some more and, if nothing, we'll get Dumbledore.”

Harry was quiet, thinking the offer over. Finally, he nodded his head. “All right—but if Severus shows up, you get me, no matter what, OK?”

Sirius nodded and said in an austere voice, “Even if you're in the shower and have shampoo all through your hair, I'll drag you out. Promise.”

Harry grinned, though Sirius could trace no humor in it. “Thanks.”

Harry walked up the stairs, glancing back at the doors hopefully. When they remained shut, Harry looked away and continued up the stairs.

Sirius, his mind blank, walked out of the foyer and into the lounge, sitting down on the couch. He had absolutely no clue what he was going to do if Severus didn't show up soon, other than inform Dumbledore of the disappearance.

Sirius sighed. If only he knew what happened while he and Harry were out.

--

“Hey kid—here's your drink,” Sirius said, handing Harry a wineglass with what looked like a red cherry floating near the bottom.

Harry inspected the drink with a quizzical look, wondering what the liquid was. “What is it? And the glass… it's… very fancy.”

“Yeah.” Sirius made a face. “I sort of forgot where Snape kept the regular glasses, and I found that one and thought, well a cup's a cup, right? So after I found that wineglass I just stopped looking. The drink, it's only lemonade. I found some in the fridge, and it wasn't open… Then I found a cherry. Pretty simple.”

Harry nodded, sitting down on the couch in the lounge next to Sirius. He took a sip, letting the silence unfold around them. Sirius hadn't said anything about Severus returning, which quelled Harry's hope that, when Harry got out of the shower, Severus would be back, and he wouldn't be missing anymore.

No such luck, obviously.

“Sirius,” Harry said softly, “can you tell me what you meant, earlier, when we were out and you said that nobody in this town could see me?”

“I didn't mean that they couldn't see you, as in you're invisible, I just meant…” Sirius faltered. “I—Harry, you have to understand… I know you don't know this town, but it's a very small town. Very… tiny. Everybody knows each other. Everybody knew you.”

Harry nodded. “Oh, I see. The sudden reappearance of somebody who's supposed to be…”

“Exactly,” Sirius interrupted quickly. “We were just lucky nobody paid much attention to us when we went out, or that we didn't actually run into anybody that would ask questions about you.”

Harry grinned weakly. “Yeah.”

Sirius gave Harry a gentle look, resting his hand upon Harry's shoulder. “Give Snape a few more minutes. Then we'll go see Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded wordlessly.

--

Severus studied Albus Dumbledore's face intently after he had finished explaining his situation. This Dumbledore wasn't different from the other one, but Severus was more focused on what Dumbledore was going to say, how he would react; how he would, hopefully, help send him back.

Just then, Severus's look-a-like spoke.

“This is ridiculous,” Snape sneered. “Obviously, I am not Potter's father—thank Merlin for that—”

“You are not Harry's father,” Severus interrupted coldly. “I am.”

“You say that your Harry died whilst trying to save the Philosophers Stone?” Dumbledore questioned.

Severus nodded. “Yes. Has the Harry… Harry Potter gone missing in this reality? There just may be a good chance that the Harry that's in my reality may be your Harry.”

“Indeed he has,” Dumbledore murmured, his eyes fixed on the two Snape's in front of him. “Listen to me: both of you being in the same reality when you should be in alternate ones—well, it will be sensed. Seeing as how you look alike, but are not twins, one of you will end up being spit back into the reality that this Severus here has come from.”

Severus paled, staring at Dumbledore in realization. “It may not be me that is… spit back; it could be… either one of us?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Who knows when? It could happen anytime. For now, we will be focusing on a way to get the right Severus back to his own reality. How, exactly, did you arrive here in the first place, Severus?”

Severus faltered. He could remember—nothing. Absolutely nothing. He did remember Sirius and Harry going out, and then he went to his study and…

And…?

Well of course he remembered fainting—no, not fainting… he merely passed out. Then that feeling, in his gut, like his insides were twisting and being squeezed.

Severus eventually shook his head. “I can't recall.”

Dumbledore nodded, though he looked concerned. “You'll stay at Hogwarts until we find a way for you to return, Severus?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Where in Hogwarts would he stay? Surely you—”

“The chamber in the dungeons,” Dumbledore replied. “After all, they are technically his, too. You should stay just as well; we don't know when or which one of you will get thrown into the other reality. Just for precautions.”

Snape narrowed his eyes slightly. “Very well,” he muttered darkly, before turning on his heel and leaving.

Severus let out a sigh. If only he could remember what happened, or what he did, to get himself here! That would possibly make things a little easier, if they knew the reason. Nothing was coming to him… no matter how hard he thought about it…

Severus was about to leave to the chambers, when he heard Dumbledore call his name. He turned back around.

“Yes?”

“Would you like a lemon drop, Severus?”

Severus declined, though he couldn't help thinking that some things just never changed, in any reality.

--

Snape Manor remained empty, with the exception of Harry and Sirius. After waiting for what seemed like forever, the two finally went to Dumbledore, with, of course, a lot of explaining to do.

First came the explanation of Harry's reappearance, and then with Severus's disappearance—though he couldn't explain much about the latter, since they had no idea what happened to him, which made everything that much more harder. A lot more harder, in fact…

Anything could've happened. For all Harry knew, Severus might not even be in this world anymore. If that was the case, then where?

Harry was amazed at how concerned Sirius was; he always had the impression that Sirius and Severus didn't take too kindly to each other. Though he knew that it didn't matter. Harry had a feeling that, no matter how much it appeared that Sirius detested Severus at times and vice versa, during they years that they endured together, a sort of… reluctant friendship had formed.

Though, Harry had eventually found that that friendship was very, very unnoticeable at times.

Severus's disappearance was going to be difficult to solve, Harry knew that. It was going to be just as difficult to find him.

Unless it was Severus that found them again. That was just as likely; Severus was smart.

Whilst with Dumbledore, however, Harry didn't bother to mention his needing to return, at the moment. No, he'd wait until Severus was found and safe before talking to Dumbledore about going back to his right reality—

Unless… he ended up changing his mind about that at some point…

Severus was not liking his situation very well. At all. He had only been in this reality a day, but he wished that he was back in his reality.

For most of the day, he tried to figure out how he ended up here. Why couldn't he remember? Did Harry remember how he had jumped realities? Had Harry used his wand, or another magical thing in order to do it?

… Had Severus?

Then Severus began to think about Harry—his Harry. These dungeons were almost the same as Severus's in his reality, except these chambers did not have Harry's things strewn across the floor. Severus remembered, the day before Harry died, how he had asked—or rather, demanded—that Harry pick up his things. Something had happened earlier that day between them… a fight, though Severus was foggy on why and what it was about.

Harry had never come around to picking his things that had littered the chamber floors. He ended up… passing away the next day. Severus was sure that Harry's things still remain untouched on the floor in his chambers.

But that foolish boy! That incompetent, impudent, foolish boy… after Severus had told Harry just to leave things alone, so he wouldn't get hurt…

Harry didn't listen. He risked his life to save the Stone, and ended up dying in the process.

Severus pushed the thought of Harry out of his mind as he sat on the couch, staring at the wall in front of him quietly. He had no idea where his 'clone' was, and so far, didn't really care.

He was so… aggravating.

Well, not he himself… rather, his clone. The Severus Snape from this reality.

Who was, absolutely, positively, utterly aggravating.

It was quiet in the chambers with the other Snape gone, but, still, it was even quiet with his clone in the chambers.

Besides, Severus didn't exactly know what to say to Snape, anyway. Perhaps it was best for them not to talk to each other; this Snape did seem to get on Severus's nerves quite easily, which Severus found to be rather ironic, considering that it technically was him.

Oh, why couldn't he remember what happened? He was going to go mad. He knew it. What if... what if Severus hadn't done anything? What if he had been pulled here without doing anything at all? For a reason?

But, what would the reason be?

There were numerous possibilities over what happened. Anything could have happened.

Severus just didn't know why he couldn't remember, and that's what irked him the most.

--

“What if he ended up sinking into the ground with no way of getting out?” Harry suggested in a humorless voice, with a distant look in his eyes.

Sirius, sitting in the lounge on the couch beside Harry, had his arm draped around the boys' shoulder. Sirius was looking forward, staring off into space.

“Maybe a bunch of bluebirds came into the house and carried poor Snapey off to their nest,” Sirius said.

Harry tilted his head to glance up at Sirius.

“Or maybe… maybe he shrunk until he was only five centimeters tall, and that's why we can't find him,” Harry answered. “Because… he's so tiny.”

“Maybe one of his potions went wrong,” Sirius suggested softly. He glanced hesitantly at Harry, who was looking rather pale, and added quickly, “and then… maybe the potion made him lose all of his hair, and so he's… hiding? Although, he wouldn't have to worry about that grease anymore—”

At Harry's look, Sirius quieted.

“Maybe…” Harry trailed off, faltering. For the past ten minutes or so, he and Sirius had been coming up with “maybe”s as to what happened to Severus. There had been some pretty crazy “maybe”s—but he couldn't stop now. Maybe…?

Harry looked away from Sirius, who was staring down at him questioningly. Probably waiting for another “maybe”. Why couldn't he think of another one?

“Maybe—”

“Maybe we should get some lunch now,” Sirius interrupted. “You must be hungry, considering that you didn't have much for breakfast. How about it—anything you want, we'll just ask Nome.”

“I dunno,” Harry replied, shrugging. “I don't really feel like anything.”

Sirius grew quiet as he thought. “We could go to a restaurant if you feel like eating out,” he mused. “Or we could go get one of those frozen pizzas—they're not too bad. What d'you say? A restaurant?”

Harry had never been able to eat out at a restaurant, whilst living with the Dursleys. It would be nice, just to see what it was like…

“Maybe,” Harry replied, hesitating. “A—are you sure? Do you… have the…?”

“The money?” Sirius guessed. “Sure. Snape always has a small stash… somewhere. We can go out, let Nome not cook anything—but, first, we have to find the bit of Muggle money. It's somewhere in this house, I know that.” Sirius frowned. “Maybe in his study? Or in a drawer in his room… or on a shelf in the kitchen… or in a drawer in his study…”

Harry watched as Sirius named numerous other places in the house where the money could be, looking doubtful with each one he said.

“Why don't we just search the house?” Harry suggested. “And if we can't find it, well, we can just stay in. I don't mind.”

“All right,” Sirius finally agreed. “I'll check his study and you—er, why don't you check your room?”

Harry frowned. “Why my room?”

Sirius gave his shoulders a shrug. “I dunno, we should search the entire house though, right? Who knows? And knowing Snape, he could've put it anywhere. He might even have a safe that I don't know about in this house.”

--

It seemed the money just might've been in Harry's room. At least, Harry thought it was the money, as he stood in front of his closet, head tilted back as he stared at a box on the very top shelf. There was only one way to find out if it was or not.

He had tried pulling the box down several moments ago, but he couldn't reach that top shelf. He was too short, and his fingertips barely grazed the edge of the shelf.

“Sirius!” Harry called.

Moments later, Sirius appeared in the doorway with a hopeful look on his face, saying, “Did you find it, Harry?”

“I think so,” Harry said after a moments hesitation. “There's a box up there, but I dunno if that's the money or not.”

Sirius reached up, taking hold of the box in the very back of the shelf in the closet. He pulled it down, taking the lid off.

“Ah.” He smiled triumphantly. “There it is! So, how about it Harry? Care to join me for lunch?”

--

Sirius and Harry walked down the side of the street; each step was rather hesitant. It was fairly warm out, with a light breeze every so often. Sirius looked so nervous as he walked beside Harry, and Harry knew why. Especially since Sirius had explained about this being a small town. Harry was even nervous himself.

What if somebody noticed Harry, which was pretty much very likely? How would they explain Harry's return? Although, what if these Muggles didn't even know that Harry had died? After all, this happened in the wizarding world, and what if Severus had kept to himself after it happened, and never told anybody in this town yet?

That thought comforted Harry, but only a little. He wouldn't feel comfortable if somebody came up to him, causing Sirius and Harry to explain the reappearance. He desperately hoped that that didn't happen.

“Do you have any place in mind?” Sirius asked, breaking the silence that had formed between them, while Harry shook his head in reply. “There's not many restaurants or diners here, which often did cause problems when it came to this Harry's birthday, you should know.”

A slow smile crossed Harry's face. “Really? Why?”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Every year on… your birthday, Snape and I would take you out to a restaurant to celebrate it. Since there aren't many restaurants in this town, we would have to do repeats—but it was all very good. Each time the food just became even more fantastic than the last time.”

The smile remained on Harry's face at the thought. “That sounds like fun.”

Sirius nodded. “It was. We always went out to eat for supper, though. Nome would always make you a birthday lunch. Each year he always did a fine job, and I have to say, every year I was always looking forward to July thirty-first.”

They fell silent once again, until Sirius said softly, “It's okay to be worried for Snape, Harry. I am, believe it or not.”

“He hates me,” Harry said quietly. “Why do I feel so… so concerned? So—”

“Because he doesn't hate you,” Sirius pointed out. “Sure, perhaps that Snape in your reality does, but this one doesn't, and you know it. That's why you're worried and—and concerned.”

“Maybe,” Harry replied. “Do you think he's hurt?”

Sirius gave Harry a lingering look. Finally, Sirius said, “Do you want to know what I think, Harry?”

Harry bit his lip, looking hesitant. He nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“I think,” Sirius said slowly, “that bluebirds carried Snape off to their nest and is, as we speak, feeding him worms. What do you think?”

Harry grinned as Sirius nudged him playfully with his elbow. “I think that he got pulled into the ground and has no way of getting out. I think we should help him.”

Sirius grinned. “After lunch, all right? We really need to come up with new creative ideas, don't you think? We can do that over lunch. What about this restaurant here? They put little umbrellas in your drink.”

Harry returned the grin, nodding as they approached a small, red restaurant. Harry searched for a name, but couldn't find one.

“What's it called?” Harry asked, glancing up at Sirius.

“They haven't named it yet,” Sirius answered. “Actually, it's been nameless for about three years so far. Nobody can decide on a name. Do you know how many times I've tried to get them to name it “Padfoot's Place”? People just don't know a good name when they hear one. So, I've just been calling it Nameless, since that's what it is.”

“Nameless,” Harry repeated, saying the name a few more times in his head. “I like Padfoot's Place better.”

Sirius nodded, looking pleased. “Finally, a person with good taste in names.”

Harry, alongside Sirius, walked up the concrete steps. “What if Severus is stuck up in that chimney back at the manor?”

Sirius gave Harry a look as he chuckled. He held open the door, letting Harry in. “Is he trying to impersonate Father Christmas, Harry? It's a little too early for that.” Sirius winced. “I just imagined Snape in a Father Christmas suit. It's… rather…”

Harry followed Sirius to a table with two chairs. The tablecloth was red, just as the outside of the restaurant. A fan spun above their heads. The main colors of the restaurant, Harry found as he looked around, were red, gold and silver. The walls were painted in a dark red, with various gold and silver lines and curves painted on top. The tablecloths, Harry noticed, weren't just red either; there were also gold or silver.

There definitely was a red, gold and silver theme going on.

“Once every year,” Sirius started after picking the menu in front of him up, “this place always changes their colors. Last year, it was blue, white and silver; this year is red, gold and silver, and who knows what next year will be?”

“How long have they done that for?” Harry asked curiously.

“This is maybe the… I think maybe the third year?” Sirius replied uncertainly. “At one point, when it first opened, they left everything white. That's when it was called 'The White Room'. Then the next year they changed it to a different color and had to change the name—but they couldn't think of a name for it, and that's when they started asking people around the town for ideas, but nothing seemed to fit. Then the year after that they changed the colors again, and ever since, have.”

Harry picked up his own menu and began to skim down the list, saying, “And they didn't use your idea?”

“What, the 'Padfoot's Place'?”

Harry nodded, peering over the top of his menu to look at Sirius.

“Nah.” Sirius grinned. “Although, if I ever open a restaurant of my own, you'll know what it's going to be called.”

Harry tilted his head to the side. “You want to open a restaurant?”

“Well—no, actually, not really.”

Harry laughed. “Uhm—Sirius? Whenever… er… we used to come here, what did, uh, I get?”

Harry watched Sirius curiously as a thoughtful look crossed Sirius's face. After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Sirius said, “Well I think here… you used to get pancakes. The cook would always make a face on one of the pancakes for you, out of chocolate sauce and something else…. You had always liked it, but I don't think Snape liked the chocolate sauce idea for some reason.”

“Yeah?” Harry repeated, frowning. “I think… I think I'm going to get pancakes, too.”

“You are, huh? You know, that does sound good. I'll get the same.”

Harry set the menu down, waiting for someone to take the order. That's what they did in restaurants, didn't they? Harry was proved right as somebody soon did just that. He began to wonder, if back in his reality, this town existed. It probably did; Harry didn't see why it wouldn't.

Though, as Harry's mind started to wander, a thought struck him.

“Sirius,” Harry said, after the waiter had left, “I just thought, well, what does 'Padfoot' mean, exactly?”

“Oh, right.” Sirius paused before explaining. “Well, Padfoot's my nickname. Remus Lupin, James—who's your father… back, right?—and… and Peter Pettigrew, all did, too. We were the Marauders in school.”

“So Padfoot is your nickname,” Harry said slowly. “And… and the rest had nicknames, too?”

“Uh huh,” Sirius replied. “James was—”

“Harry, dear!”

Harry looked up at the elderly lady in surprise. He glanced over at Sirius, who was looking a deathly white at that moment. Harry's eyes widened slightly as the older lady enveloped Harry in a motherly hug.

“Mrs—Mrs Hammond,” Sirius choked out, looking at the lady, who was currently ruffling Harry's hair, in horror. “How—how nice to see you again.”

“Sirius,” the lady said, giving Sirius an affectionate look. “You're looking as handsome as ever.”

The lady, Harry saw, looked like she was in her eighties. Her hair and eyebrows were a greyish-white, and her skin was wrinkled, especially around the mouth when she smiled. She smelled of lavender, apples and cinnamon, Harry found.

“Where's Severus?” The lady, Mrs Hammond, continued curiously. “I haven't seen him at all lately.”

“He's away,” Sirius replied hesitantly. “For… a little while.”

“Well, you be sure to tell him to come visit me from time to time,” Mrs Hammond said. “You two, too. I get lonesome without you three to keep me company. What have you been up to? Harry?”

Harry looked at the lady, startled at being spoken to. What was he going to say? It seemed as if this Mrs Hammond didn't know about this Harry's death. That was a good sign, Harry thought, feeling a bit relieved. Did everybody else not know?

“T—things,” Harry stuttered, blushing. “It was n—nice seeing you again Mrs… Mrs…”

Harry gulped, feeling his face redden even more. Mrs? Mrs what? Mrs… Lavender? No, that's what she smelt like—It was…

“Mrs Hammond,” Sirius intervened quickly, standing up from his chair. “It was so lovely to see you again. I promise Harry and I will come visit you soon.”

“And Severus,” the lady added. “We haven't seen any of you so far this summer. The town and I had begun to think that something happened.”

“No.” Sirius chuckled weakly. “Nothing happened, no.”

“Good.” Mrs Hammond patted Harry's head affectionately, and Harry kept quiet. “You're getting so tall, Harry. You're going to be handsome when you get older, that's for sure.”

Harry turned red as he gave a small smile. “Thank you, Mrs—Mrs Hammond.”

At least he remembered the elderly lady's name this time, Harry thought in relief.

As soon as Mrs Hammond left the restaurant, Sirius was the first to let out a sigh, sinking into his seat with equal relief.

“I wonder how many other people are clueless about what happened,” Sirius said, straightening up in his chair. He let out another sigh. “Er—oh Merlin…”

Frowning, Harry followed Sirius's gaze to see what he was looking at. A young-looking man, clad in a blue jogging outfit, was making his way across the restaurant towards Harry and Sirius's table, after spotting them. As he drew closer, Harry saw that he had light blue eyes and mocha-colored hair.

“Hey there kiddo,” he said fondly to Harry, who glanced quickly at Sirius, who gave a weak smile. “I haven't seen you around lately. Have you been feeling all right?”

Harry glanced over at Sirius again, and then looked back, nodding his head uncertainly to the man in front of him. “F—fine, sir.”

“Sir!” The man echoed, laughing. “You really are quite a chap, eh? I'll see you around, Harry. Sirius.”

Sirius gave a rather false smile to the man, who now had his back turned and was leaving.

Harry frowned.

“Who was that?”

Sirius made a face. “Evan Taylor. I'm not too fond of him—neither is Snape, really. Although that's just because he's jealous.”

Harry's frown became more pronounced now. “Jealous? Why?”

“Evan Taylor usually does treat… you like his long-lost son. I suppose Snape has always just been jealous that Evan Taylor tries to be a second father to you. Or a third father actually,” Sirius explained. “I'll always have that second place.”

Harry was about to answer when something caught his eye. He turned his head to the side to see several people smiling brightly and waving at him —actually, from what Harry could see, it looked as if most of the whole restaurant was either saying, “Hey there, Harry!” or either smiling or waving.

The same was happening to Sirius, and he seemed to notice it as well.

“I told you that it was a small town,” Sirius reminded Harry with a grin.

--

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry stared back at the potions professor, looking startled at the question. He remained silent, and then eventually shook his head.

“I don't know, sir.”

“Tut, tut—clearly, fame isn't everything,” Snape drawled. “Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“I don't know, sir,” Harry repeated, looking over at the girl beside him, who had her hand raised, and was waving it around madly in the air.

“Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Snape looked at Harry coldly. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Sit down!” he said to Hermione, who began to slowly lower her arm. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?”

Snape paused, his eyes sweeping across the classroom as the students began ink their quills and start writing on their parchments.

“And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Severus shot up; immediately a frown crossed his face. He had just dreamt—what was it, exactly? Just a dream?

There was a knock on his door: repetitive, loud and impatient. Severus immediately knew who it was, as he slowly stepped out of the bed and walked over to the door. Twisting the handle, he opened the door.

It was, of course, himself—although, he didn't look too happy.

“I assume you're standing outside of my doorway because you had the same dream as I?” Severus guessed, staring coolly back at himself.

“It wasn't just a dream, for your information,” Snape stated, looking at Severus suspiciously. “That happened in Potter's first year. My question, however, is why did we both end up “dreaming” it?”

Severus knew that it was a question that they would have to ask Dumbledore, although he wasn't even sure that the Headmaster knew the answer…

--

Harry and Sirius stood outside of the manor, just silently standing there. A word hadn't been spoken since they left the restaurant. They had walked down the street, where somehow, the word had travelled that they were out, because what seemed, to Harry, like thousands of people had come up to them and said hi, just as some had done in the restaurant.

As Sirius and Harry stood in front of the house, Harry could feel several peoples' eyes on them, wondering what they were possibly doing by just standing, staring at their house. Not moving a muscle.

What were they doing, exactly?

Harry had been sure that Sirius would've been the first to speak, the first to say something—and yet Harry found that it was most likely going to be himself.

“Sirius,” Harry started softly, still staring at the house, though his eyes were transfixed on the french doors in particular. “Why are standing here?”

“Hm?” Sirius sounded rather distant to Harry, even if he was standing right beside him. “Oh. I was just standing here because you were.”

Harry actually didn't believe that. For the first time since they had approached the manor, Harry looked up at Sirius, who was staring at the house fixated, just as Harry had been.

“Why aren't we going inside?” Harry questioned, his voice seeming softer than it had been before.

“I don't know,” came the honest reply. “Why aren't we?”

“Because it's empty,” Harry pointed out, tearing his gaze away from Sirius, fixing his attention on the french doors once again. “It's too… empty.”

“Right.”

There was silence, before Sirius spoke again.

“I'm full. Are you full?”

“Yeah. Why did—what did you say his name was?—give us all that extra food?”

Harry was relieved that Sirius had changed the subject, though he couldn't exactly place why he felt so lonely now with Severus gone. Why? He wanted to know, but couldn't find the right answer.

“His name's Alex, and I really have no idea why he gave us things we didn't even order,” Sirius replied. “It was good, though, and we didn't have to pay for it. Although that was probably because of that incident last summer…”

Harry looked back up at Sirius, to find Sirius looking down at him.

“Yeah. We had a barbecue here—”

Harry's eyes widened. “You—we—had a barbecue?”

Sirius chuckled. “I felt adventurous one time and bought it. Snape wasn't too happy, because none of us were ever going to use it—that's when I had the brilliant idea of having a barbecue. Snape wasn't happy about that either. Since I didn't know how to use the barbecue, and Snape didn't either, we had Alex do that for us. He ended up blowing the barbecue up.”

Harry gaped. “Really? How?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, letting a grin escape. “I don't know—nobody was hurt, but Alex did feel guilty. That was probably what that back there was all about.”

Sirius suddenly frowned, studying Harry's face intently. Harry returned the frown, squirming slightly under the gaze.

“Sirius—?”

“Are you feeling all right?” Sirius questioned, squatting until he was the same height as Harry. “You look pale.”

“I'm fine,” Harry replied. “I just have a bit of a headache.”

Harry quickly looked back up at the manor; Sirius seemed to notice the glance.

“You know,” he started slowly, “I could show you the park down the street, if you don't feel like going back inside just yet.”

“Yeah?” Harry said, nodding. “Okay.”

Harry eyed Sirius suspiciously at the look that crossed Sirius's face.

“How about we race there?” Sirius suggested. “After all…”

Harry grinned. “I beat you the last time we raced.”

“Don't be so sure,” Sirius responded, giving Harry a look. “I was the first to fall in that lake.”

“So?” Harry frowned. “I tried to help you out, but then you ended up pulling me in, too.”

“I know, so therefore, you came in second place. You didn't beat me,” Sirius pointed out. “I beat you.”

“You never said the first in the lake won. You said that the first to reach the lake won.”

“Well,” Sirius said slowly. “The first in the lake wins!”

Harry watched as Sirius began to run, and called after him, “Are we racing to the lake or to the park?”

However, all Sirius replied with was, “Come on, Harry!” so Harry had no idea what their destination was, or where it was located, and all he could do was run after Sirius.

--

“I'll get it!” Harry called out, as soon as the doorbell rang. There was no reply from Sirius, and Harry had to wonder where the adult was. What had Sirius said before he went… wherever he went? Oh, yes, 'I'll be right back.' Harry hadn't questioned, but now he was curious about where Sirius went.

Harry, who was up in his bedroom, raced down the flight of stairs into the foyer, where he opened the door to find the elderly lady that he had met in the nameless restaurant standing on the threshold with something in her hands.

“Hello, Harry,” she said warmly. “Did Severus return yet?”

Harry shook his head, trying not to look too worried as he frantically searched his mind for her name. This had happened in the restaurant, yet Sirius had managed to save him—but Sirius wasn't here now, at the moment.

“Not yet, ma'am,” he said, giving a swift, nervous smile.

“I didn't think so,” she said lightly, holding out a basket to Harry. “That's why I made this for you.”

Harry looked down at the basket in surprise before looking back up at… Mrs Hammond! That was it; that was her name.

“It's filled with various kinds of food,” Mrs Hammond continued, pointing to things inside of the basket. “I thought, with Severus away—he usually does the cooking, doesn't he? And with Sirius looking after you… I just didn't think that he's the cooking type. Am I right?”

She wouldn't know about Nome, Harry realized, giving Mrs Hammond a smile as he accepted the basket.

“Thank you, Mrs Hammond,” he said politely, feeling nervous as her name slipped off his tongue. What if that wasn't her name? What if Harry was wrong, and it was something completely different?

“You're welcome, Harry,” Mrs Hammond replied. Harry's shoulders sagged in relief. “Though I shouldn't take all the credit—I had Alex make most of the things you'll find in there.

“So tell me, you go to a boarding school, don't you?”

Harry gulped. Where was Sirius?

“Y—yes,” he answered. “Boarding school, I go, yes.”

“And I can't remember—did I ever ask what Severus did? For a living?” Mrs Hammond frowned.

Harry whirled around at a sound behind him, letting out a rather happy and relieved, “Sirius!”

Mrs Hammond, obviously not seeing Sirius approaching the doorway, kept the frown on her face, misinterpreting Harry. “Severus does… what?”

“Mrs Hammond,” Sirius said, appearing behind Harry with a smile. “What brings you by?”

“Oh.” Mrs Hammond smiled warmly. “Sirius. I was just dropping by with some food. I realize all of that won't last until Severus returns, whenever that is—especially with your appetite, Sirius—but I just didn't think that you're much of the cooking type.”

Sirius laughed, saying, “Oh, I'm not. Thank you, Mrs Hammond—it looks delicious.”

“Don't thank me. Alex cooked everything.” She patted Harry's hair. “Well, I must leave you, dears. Come by later, won't you?”

“Of course,” Sirius said, and saying another goodbye to Mrs Hammond, shut the door. “So, kiddo, want to eat it now?”

“All of it?” Harry glanced down at the basket that he held. “Now?”

“All right, all right. We'll save it for tomorrow,” Sirius said, giving in. “It does look pretty good, though.”

Harry walked into the dining area, setting the basket onto the table. “Where did you go, Sirius?” he asked.

“The library upstairs,” Sirius replied. “You like books, don't you? I was just seeing if there were any up there that you might like reading. Do you want to go up and look at it? Or, we could find something else to do.”

Harry shook his head. “We can go look at the library. I actually didn't know there was one,” Harry admitted.

“Yup. Most of the books are of potions; I suppose they could be useful to study if you weren't any good—this Harry was excellent at potions. I'm not sure whether you have those skills or not.”

“I'm not very good when it comes to potions,” Harry said. “I think it may be my worst subject.”

“Really?” Sirius looked amazed. “How interesting. I have to say, your whole situation—these realities—are, well… interesting. It still is sort of confusing.”

Harry followed Sirius into the foyer and up the stairs.

“There's one thing that I kind of wish I had,” Harry said, rather softly. “This-reality Harry's memories. I—I just… do.”

A thoughtful look, almost as if a thought had struck Sirius after Harry had said that, fleetingly crossed Sirius's face. He remained silent, though, as he lead Harry towards the library.

“You're improving a lot,” Sirius commented as he and Harry stepped through the french doors the next day, soaking wet. Water was dripping onto the floor, leaving a track of where they had been walking. “You just have to keep on trying not to drown.”

“I can't help it,” Harry answered, frowning. He wiped his wet face with his hand, although that didn't do much good, considering his hand was wet, as well. “I just can't swim.”

“That's what I'm trying to help you with,” Sirius pointed out. He followed Harry up the stairs. “When you kick with your feet, you keep your arms still.”

Harry blushed, walking into his room as he tried to peel his shirt off. “I know that. I tried using my arms, but then I'd stop kicking my feet. You won't give up on me, will you? I will get better soon, I hope,” Harry added, though he wasn't quite sure of that.

Sirius grinned. “I'd never give up on you. Meet me downstairs after you get dressed, I'll make us drinks. We can go see Dumbledore later today, too, to see if anything else came up.”

“All right,” Harry agreed, quickly adding before Sirius left to go change, himself, “We still have a little of the those umbrellas left over from Padfoot's Place, right?”

Sirius couldn't help but laugh. That's what they had been calling the 'Nameless' restaurant, ever since they had eaten there. Padfoot's Place.

“I think we do. You want one in your drink?”

Harry nodded eagerly. Sirius had been making his drink—the lemonade with the cherry that he'd always put at the bottom, and recently they had purchased little umbrellas that Sirius would now put in the drink too—a lot lately, though Harry wasn't complaining. He liked it.

After changing into dry clothes, Harry went back down the steps to see Sirius in the dining area with two drinks in his hand.

“I put them in the wineglasses again just to be fancy again,” Sirius explained. “Would you mind getting those umbrellas from the lounge, Harry?”

Harry agreed, though he was only expecting to find the umbrellas—never was he expecting to find Severus, as well.

--

So it had been a mere flashback that Snape from this reality had shared with Severus—though it was not willing, Severus found, after consulting with Dumbledore. He said that, as long as both Severus's were in the same reality, that several flashbacks would be shared between them until one of them was transported back to Severus's own reality.

Severus wasn't quite sure why this would happen, however. It didn't happen with Harry, did it? He soon realized that Harry didn't go through the things that he was going through. How could it? In this case, there were two Severus's—in Harry's case, there was only one Harry.

Because his Harry was gone. If Harry hadn't died, and the other Harry stumbled across the realities just so, then Severus imagined that both Harry's would be enduring flashbacks, just as he was now, and etcetera.

As both Snape's were telling Dumbledore about what happened the previous night, that's when it happened. That's when one of the Snape's doubled over, letting out a gasp of pain, jerking backwards by an invisible force.

And then Severus Snape crumpled to the floor—although, as he went down, he seemed to disappear into the floor.

Severus Snape was gone, whisked away to the alternate reality.

There was just one slight problem…

--

“Severus!” Harry yelled, standing frozen in the doorway of his lounge.

Severus Snape stood up, seeming rather shaky as he was in the midst of gathering himself up off the floor. Harry surprised himself by running over and wrapping his arms around the professors' waist.

“Where did you go?” Harry asked, though his voice was muffled by the potions master's robes, and wasn't sure that the question was even heard. “We just came home and you were… gone.”

Harry looked up to find the adult staring back down, an unknown emotion crossing his face. Harry frowned, his arms still around Severus's waist. The Potions Master had a different scent, Harry realized.

“Snape.”

Harry dropped his arms and turned around, to see Sirius standing in the doorway. A look of shock was placed on his face. Then, it changed to anger.

“Where have you been?” He growled, stepping forward. “How many days have you been away, exactly? I eventually lost count—and where did you go?”

“Black,” came the reply, full of anger and loathing. It surprised Harry.

Snape stepped in front of Harry, and at first, Harry thought it was out of protection—and then Harry realized it was because he merely wanted Harry out of his way.

“What are you doing here?” Snape snarled, looking around. “Where am I?”

Sirius frowned, glancing over at Harry. “Harry, I think—I think he has amnesia.”

“I have no such thing!” Snape roared, taking a threatening step forward. Sirius automatically stepped back. “You should be locked away, rotting in Azkaban, Black. It's where you belong. Why are you here?”

Then, Snape turned on Harry.

“Who are you?”

“He's your son,” Sirius said tentatively from the doorway. He was looking at Snape suspiciously.

Harry gulped, trying to find his voice. There was something familiar. Very, very familiar…

Then Snape's eyes immediately went to Harry's forehead, where his eyes narrowed. “Potter,” he said, curling his lip. He curtly explained at Harry's surprised look. “Your scar, and your voice, of course. What did you do to your appearance, Potter?”

Harry's hand immediately went to his mouth. He hadn't realized, that even though he had a different body; a different look—that there were still traces of his own voice from his reality. He hadn't actually noticed that before. Harry listened to his voice more closely as he spoke again.

“What's going on? Severus… what—?” Then Harry paused. He stepped away from Snape, walking backwards towards Sirius in the doorway. “Professor Snape.”

Snape scowled. “I want this resolved, now. I do not want to be stuck in this… absurd…”

“Where's Severus?” Harry spoke after returning to Sirius's side. “Is he back… in my reality, s—sir?”

Sirius seemed to understand what happened, or at least had a vague idea. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Snape glowered at them both.

“I should go tell Dumbledore what happened,” Sirius said softly, more to Harry than to Snape, who still stood by the couch with a disgusted look on his face. “Do you want to come with me, Harry?”

“I—I'll stay here,” Harry answered, casting an uncertain look at Snape.

Sirius hesitated. “Are you sure?” At Harry's nod, Sirius added to Snape, “If you hurt him, or even just look at him, I swear—”

Snape scowled. “I wouldn't touch a hair on Potter's head. His current head, at least,” he spat.

“His name is Harry,” Sirius snarled, looking as if he was about to lunge at the Potions Master. He seemed to be fighting that urge, and very reluctantly, he said to Harry, “I'll be as quick as I can. Are you sure you don't want to come with me, Harry?”

“I'm sure,” Harry said, though he began to wonder if he should've accepted Sirius's offer.

--

“It's the other Severus Snape, Headmaster,” Severus said after Snape had disappeared. “This Severus Snape.”

Dumbledore looked concerned as he stared at the spot that Snape had stood. He folded his hands onto his desk.

“We need to find how you ended up here, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “So we can reverse whatever happened. However, since we don't know how this happened, it will only make this complicated, and will take time.”

Severus sighed, frustrated with himself. If he only could remember what he did. Nothing was becoming clearer to him; it was all still so foggy.

“Although this means that there won't be another flashback, correct?” Severus asked.

“There is, now, no other mind that yields those memories to be able to share them with you anymore. All we have to worry about is getting the right Severus back in the right reality.”

--

“I can show you where your room is,” Harry offered meekly.

Harry realized now that he should've went with Sirius to see Dumbledore. He couldn't stand being alone in the same house with Snape—it was too awkward and uncomfortable. For the past five minutes, ever since Sirius had reluctantly left Harry, Harry sat on the couch while Snape paced the room in complete silence.

This had been the first time either spoke.

Snape, however, didn't say anything, but Harry stood up and began to walk to the staircase anyway. He glanced quickly behind his shoulder to see, after a few seconds of staying in the lounge, Snape started to follow Harry.

“So, Potter,” he sneered, walking up the stairs. “How did you come to this… reality? I have to say, I am not surprised that you're famous here, just as you are back in our reality.”

Harry didn't turn around as he walked down the corridor and past “his” own room.

“I don't remember, sir,” Harry said, answering Snape's first question, after really thinking about it. He didn't like the fact that Snape had just assumed that he was famous, without actually knowing. Although, he was… that just wasn't Harry's point. “I think that's because I hit my head, though.”

“You are not the only one that has no memory of what occurred,” Snape said briefly.

“You mean Severus doesn't remember, either?” Harry asked, glancing up at Snape.

He didn't reply, though, so Harry let it go.

Then the two arrived at Severus's room. Harry hadn't been in this room ever, since he arrived. He wasn't surprised to find that most of the colors in the room were green or silver. Along the dresser, Harry spotted several hand-made cards that, with each one, the drawings seemed to get a little more neater.

Most of the cards proclaimed 'Happy Birthday Dad!', Harry noticed as he hesitantly stepped into the room. There was also a stack of papers near the edge of the dresser. Harry didn't know what the others were of, but the one that sat on the top had several colorful circles decorating the paper; Harry wasn't sure whether it was an actual drawing or just scribbles.

At the bottom right-hand corner, Harry saw his name, printed too neatly for the picture above. He assumed that either Sirius or Severus had wrote the name.

Behind Harry, Snape made a noise as he, too, must have noticed the cards and drawings. Harry sighed, turning around and walking out of the room.

“I'll be downstairs,” Harry said out loud, though he knew that Snape didn't really care where he was.

Harry was curious as to why Severus and that Snape seemed to have switched places—but, before he would ask Snape anything, he'd wait until Sirius came back home. He'd feel more comfortable that way.

--

Sirius stepped out of the fireplace, standing in the lounge whilst his eyes searched the manor suspiciously. The house was too quiet. Where was Snape and Harry? Sirius had expected Harry to be waiting in the lounge, but by the looks of it, it was empty.

“Harry?” Sirius called out, walking past the couch and out of the room. As he walked through the foyer, he peered into the dining area to see if Harry was sitting at the dining table. There was nobody there, so clearly, he wasn't.

“Harry?” Sirius tried again, stopping as he walked through the corridor, reaching the stairs that went to the floor downstairs, where Severus's study was. “Harry, are you down there?”

“Sirius?”

Sirius whirled around at the voice. Harry stood behind him, looking confused.

“Sirius, what are you doing?” Harry asked, frowning.

“I was looking for you,” Sirius replied. “Where were you?”

“In the kitchen,” came the reply. “I think Snape's upstairs. I'm glad you're back though; Nome was starting to look at me funny.”

Sirius laughed. “It's probably just because you look like this Harry, and you're… back. Snape—this Snape—must've told Nome not to say anything about your reappearance.” Sirius's eyebrows knit together, looking thoughtful. “Would you… like to see something, Harry?”

“What is it?” Harry asked warily.

“Follow me,” Sirius said, motioning for Harry to follow him down the steps.

--

“I've always liked it down here,” Sirius said as he lead Harry through the corridor. There were about two rooms down here that Harry knew of: Severus's study and another room—but that room would always have the door shut, so Harry never knew what it was.

Sirius seemed to notice Harry's stare at the door, and paused on his way by it, nearly causing Harry to collide into him.

“Would you like to see what's in here, Harry?” he questioned.

Harry hesitated, glancing up at Sirius. “Could I?”

“Of course,” Sirius replied, reaching out to twist the doorknob. “You and I—this used to be our place. Whenever Snape would be in his study, we would always come here and… do whatever, really.”

Sirius opened the door, revealing a fairly large room that was filled with lots of Muggle things. Hanging from the ceiling was a disco ball, and lots of streamers and ribbons that would change their color every so often were scattered around the room, as well. There was a television in the corner, and a stack of movies nearby. The walls were splattered with different colors: purples, blues, and reds.

“You and I made this room,” Sirius said. “I forget how old you were. You needed some sort of entertainment, though, so that's when we decided to make this room. We have lots of board games in that cupboard over there. I tried to make Snape play one time, but no matter what, he wouldn't. The only time he did, was once, and… well… you ended up making him play—he looked as if he was being tortured, honestly.”

Harry tried to imagine Severus playing a board game, but found he couldn't.

“This isn't what I wanted to show you, though,” Sirius said, tugging on Harry's elbow gently.

Harry stepped out of the room; Sirius pulled the door shut and started to lead Harry towards Severus's study.

“What are we doing here?” Harry asked, glancing around the room furtively after Sirius opened the door.

Sirius walked over to Severus's desk and stood by something that sat there, though Harry wasn't sure what it was. Sirius soon answered Harry's question when he announced, however, that it was “Snape's Pensieve.”

“What's a Pensieve?” Harry asked slowly, warily stepping towards Sirius.

“Snape's memories are in here,” Sirius answered. “I think they're just memories of this Harry; I remember him telling me that Snape let him look at it one time. I just thought you might like to see… I don't know… memories? Besides, I mean, I'm sure Snape wouldn't mind…”

Harry tilted his head to the side as he stared at the Pensieve. Should he? Sure, he'd like to see those memories, at least a few of them—but at the moment, he felt like he shouldn't be here, in Severus's study. If Severus found out, even though Sirius was with him (though what difference would that make?), wouldn't he get angry?

“A—all right,” Harry agreed hesitantly. “What do I do?”

“Just come forward,” Sirius said, motioning Harry forward. He ended up almost dunking his head into the strange substance that was inside before he was thrown forward, falling headfirst into the stone basin…

--

“Too high, Siri!” A young Harry squealed, kicking his feet as he was slowly lifted off the ground. He clung onto the small handle of the broom for dear life, while Sirius stood beside Harry with his hands around his waist, steadying him so he wouldn't fall.

“You're not too high,” Sirius answered gently, giving Harry an encouraging smile. “See? I've got you. You won't fall.”

The older Harry looked around, to see where he was. He seemed to be in the backyard of the manor, perhaps, with Sirius and a younger version of this Harry? This must've been the memory that Sirius and Severus had once talked about, Harry realized, about the broom incident.

“Siri,” the Harry on the broom whined, looking down at the ground in terror. “Y—you won't let me fall, right Siri?”

“Of course not,” Sirius answered. “This is your first time on a broom by yourself, Harry! What do you think?”

“I like it when you or Daddy are with me,” Harry said in a small voice, his knuckles turning white. Harry watched as the younger Harry relaxed his hands a little, but still looked nervous. “What if I fall and break every bone, Siri?”

“You won't,” Sirius promised. “Oh, Harry, hold on a minute, don't move. I just need to get this watch… it keeps falling…”

Harry giggled. “Watches don't like you much, Siri.”

“Hey, kid, that's not true!” Sirius slowly pulled his hands off Harry's waist. “It just so happens that certain watches do like me.”

“Be quick, Siri!” Harry said, a hint of panic in his voice. “I'm gonna—Siri! SIRI!”

Harry, who was watching a few feet away, instinctively dashed forward as the younger Harry wobbled, but he couldn't do anything. It was like he was a mere ghost.

“Harry!”

Sirius immediately stood up as the younger Harry now hung upside down on his broom, looking absolutely terrified. Harry let go, falling to the ground with a thud.

The “older” Harry winced, but the younger Harry wasn't up in the air very high, so he had a short fall.

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius murmured, squatting down to help Harry up. Harry was sniffling, trying to hold back his tears, though it looked like he wasn't too successful.

“I hurt my arm,” Harry said softly as a a few tears fell from his eyes. “See, Siri?”

“At least it's not broken,” Sirius said, examining Harry's arm, where a bruise began to form. “It's only a bruise. Do you want me to get you a drink, kiddo?”

Harry wiped his eyes with his arm, letting Sirius help him stand up. “With extra, extra two cherries?”

“How about three cherries?” Sirius said, kissing the top of Harry's head affectionately. “I'm sorry that I let you go, Harry.”

“It's not your fault,” Harry said, following Sirius into the house.

The older Harry followed behind the two, beginning to wonder why he was watching this memory. After all, Sirius had said that they were Severus's memories—but, Severus wasn't here… was he?

As Harry went past the dining area, a movement caught his eye. It seemed that both Sirius and the younger Harry hadn't noticed. Harry had a feeling, though, that it might just have been Severus…

How else could he be seeing this memory, since it was Severus's memory?

“I should get four cherries,” Harry was saying to Sirius as he followed the adult into the kitchen.

The older Harry was right, however, as he noticed that Severus was now following closely behind the two, keeping quiet. Sirius and Harry were oblivious to the presence.

“You should get four cherries too, Siri! Do we have any lemonade left? Hi, Nome!”

“Can Nome get good sirs something?” Nome squeaked as Sirius and Harry entered the kitchen. Severus stayed behind, standing by the door, still quiet.

“No thanks, Nome,” Harry replied with a smile. He jumped up onto the stool, letting his elbows rest on the counter. “Siri's gonna make drinks! See what I did to my arm, Nome? It's bruised.”

“And just how, exactly, did you manage to bruise your arm, Harry?”

Severus stepped into the kitchen, nearly colliding into the older Harry, who was standing near the doorway, watching what was happening. Although, he couldn't collide into Harry—he could just merely pass through.

The younger Harry jumped off the stool at his father's voice, his eyes growing slightly larger.

“Hi Daddy,” Harry said timidly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Siri was getting drinks, did you want one?”

“I'm quite fine, thank you,” Severus answered, stepping toward Harry, who immediately took a step back and ended up bumping into the stool behind him.

Severus frowned. “Stand still, Harry. I'm just going to look at your arm.”

Harry swallowed, holding his arm out to his father, who took it gently in his hand and studied the bruise. Lightly, he touched it.

“Does it hurt?” Severus questioned softly.

Harry shook his head no. “Not very much.”

Severus lifted his eyes off of Harry, letting them drift towards Sirius, who was looking rather guilty.

“I told you, Black, not to let Harry on that broom until I was finished!” Severus wasn't looking too happy at that moment. “Were you incapable of hearing, or did you just choose to ignore me? I knew that you would take your eyes off Harry, and he'd end up getting hurt.”

“Daddy, it's not Siri's fault!” Harry interrupted quickly, pulling on Severus's robes.

Severus looked down at the boy, who motioned for him to bend down to Harry's own height. When he did, Harry took his hands and cupped Severus's cheeks, staring at Severus intently.

“S—Siri didn't let me go on my broom,” Harry said softly. “I tripped in—in the fo…foy… foray. That's how I bruised myself. Don't yell at Siri… it's my fault.”

Severus took Harry's hands in his own, taking them off his cheeks and lowering them. He searched Harry's eyes silently before he spoke.

“You're lying to me, Harry. What did I tell you about lying?”

Harry lowered his eyes, staring at the ground as he mumbled something incoherent. It was when Severus had asked Harry to speak up when the memory suddenly shifted into another one, and Harry found himself outside, with lots of people walking through him, while others passed by him without a glance.

Harry had forgot the fact that nobody could see him.

“I don't wanna go!”

Harry, looking no more than five or six—maybe even four—stood in front of Sirius and Severus with a rucksack in his hands. He glanced nervously back at the building behind him, and then back up at the two adults.

“Harry, you have to,” Sirius said gently. “Don't you want to make friends and learn things?”

“I can do that at home!” Harry folded his arms across his chest and pouted. “With you and Daddy.”

“Harry.” Severus's voice was gentle, but his gaze was firm. “You're brave; you're a big boy. You can do this. I know you can. It will be different at first, but you'll get used to it.”

Harry's eyes drifted towards the ground, and he shuffled his feet, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

“I'll miss you,” Harry murmured, glancing back up nervously. “And the school is too ginormous and—and—” Then Harry sighed in defeat. “And I'll go.”

“That's my boy!” Sirius said brightly, ruffling Harry's hair. “We'll see you at lunch, and you can tell us how your first day at school went. Sound good? I'll even have one of my special drinks that you like waiting for you.”

Harry's eyes brightened as he smiled. “Really? Okay!” He looked up at Severus, tilting his head. “I love you Daddy. Give me a lot of luck.”

“I love you too, Harry,” Severus said softly. “Go be brave, and have fun.”

Harry nodded, looking up at Sirius. “I love you too, Padfoot.”

“Right back atcha, kiddo,” Sirius said, smiling down at Harry. “Make lots of friends and—” Sirius looked at Severus, who was giving Sirius a look of his own. “And… don't… get into any trouble.”

Harry grinned, though he still looked nervous. “I won't. Bye.”

As the younger version of Harry began to hesitantly walk towards the school, Sirius let out a sigh and said quietly to Severus, “Can't we keep him home longer? I mean…”

“He needs an actual education and friends as well, Black,” Severus started, but he was cut off by Sirius.

“I know, but Malfoy's kid always comes around though—isn't that enough? Besides, we can teach him things, too! At home, where he's not away from us.”

“Black—”

Sirius, however, interrupted. “I know! I know. Even if he's going to come home at lunch, I'm still going to miss him.”

There was a moment of silence from Severus, before he said in a soft, agreeable voice, “I know.”

Then the memory shifted, and Harry found himself in a place that he actually recognized: Hogwarts. Then, he saw Severus and an older Harry, probably around eleven, walking down the corridor. Harry had to walk quickly behind them to keep up.

“I'm not telling you again, Harry,” Severus said, looking annoyed. “Just leave this alone, it does not concern you!”

“I know,” Harry said, frowning. “I know it doesn't, Dad…”

Severus stopped in his tracks, spinning to the side to look at his son, who, startled, stumbled back. He fixed Harry with a piercing stare.

“If you get yourself involved in this,” he said, barely above a whisper—his voice made Harry's own skin get covered in a rash of goosebumps, “you're only going to get hurt, and the last thing I want is for my son to get hurt. I know this conversation is means nothing to you, Harry, and you'll ignore every word I'm saying to you—but don't. If you have the slightest bit of respect for me, Harry, you'll listen.”

“I do respect you!” Harry argued, the frown returning to his face as he stood a little bit straighter. “And I am listening. This conversation does mean something, Dad… but I'm not going to get hurt.”

Severus grabbed onto Harry's shoulders, staring into his eyes intently. Harry squirmed, trying to get out of his father's grip, but it didn't do any good. Severus still held on tightly.

“You will leave this…” Severus's voice dropped until only the boy in front of him could hear, so Harry had to step a little closer in order to hear what was being said. “Stone alone, do you understand? If you disobey me Harry, I swear to Merlin that you will be grounded until you're thirty—perhaps even longer.”

Harry swallowed, looking nervous. Severus let go.

“I just want you to be safe,” Severus said softly, after a few minutes of silence. “That's all.”

Harry nodded his head, slowly walking away from Severus. “I know. Goodnight, Dad. I love you.”

The feeling Harry had now, though, wasn't of the memory shifting into another memory. Instead, he was being pulled out of the memory, he realized.

“Harry?”

Harry pressed his hand to his head, blinking his eyes a few times as he became adjusted to where he was: back in Severus's study, with Sirius standing by the desk.

“Are you OK?” Sirius continued, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

“I'm fine,” Harry answered. “I—”

Harry paused, squinting at the floor. Severus's study was neat and tidy: every book had a place on the bookshelf, every paper sat in a neat stack on the desk. The floor was spotless, so this was how it had caught Harry's eye so easily.

It lay on the floor by the leg of the desk. A crumpled piece of white paper. For some reason, it was familiar to Harry—like he'd seen it somewhere before. Not just that it was a piece of paper, but there was just… something about it…

“Are you sure you're all right, Harry?” Sirius asked tentatively, staring at Harry oddly.

“Sirius,” Harry said softly, bending down to pick the paper up. “Look at this.”

Harry unfolded the paper, his eyes skimming over the words that were rather foreign to him.

And then he remembered what he had once forgot. The paper he had found on the street while walking through Privet Drive—this paper. How he had read the words out loud, and then tossed the paper away. This was how he ended up in this reality. This paper…

He remembered.

“Harry, calm down and tell me what's wrong!”

Sirius was following Harry up the stairs that lead to the corridor. Harry had the piece of paper tucked tightly in his hand.

As soon as Harry reached the corridor, he spun around to face Sirius, who was standing on the top step, looking startled.

“I don't know why,” Harry started, sounding rather breathless, “but, at first I thought I forgot because I hit my head when I fell or something, but as soon as I saw this—I remember, Sirius, how I got here!”

Sirius stared at Harry wordlessly before a smile broke out onto his face. “You're not kidding, are you?” he said excitedly. “This is—great, honestly—we can tell Dumbledore and get Snape back and—”

Then the excitement left Sirius's face, and he was left looking disappointed as he said, “And you can go back, Harry…”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn't. He shut his open mouth, glancing down at the floor.

“Look,” Sirius said softly, “Let's go to the kitchen, I'll make us a drink, we'll find the other Snape and then we'll go see Dumbledore.” Sirius paused, frowning, as he said his words over again in his head. “On second thought, why don't we go see Dumbledore first and then get ourselves a drink?” Sirius corrected himself.

Harry nodded eagerly. “Maybe then Severus will be back with us.”

Sirius lifted his foot to start walking, but froze. Slowly, he lowered his foot and bent down, picking a piece of paper up off the step. He unfolded it, skimming across what was read.

“What is it?” Harry asked tentatively, trying to get a better look at the paper in Sirius's hand.

Sirius shook his head. “I don't know, but I don't know why it's here. I've never seen it before.”

Sirius handed the paper to Harry, who immediately took it and began to read it. His eyes widened, and he started to hop back and forth on his feet. He lifted his eyes to look at Sirius, his smile widening.

“I think this is it,” Harry whispered excitedly, shaking the paper. “This might be how we get Severus back!”

“Harry,” Sirius said, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders to stop him from jumping. “S—stand still, all right, kiddo? Now are you sure that this piece of paper will get Snape back?”

“We can try, at least,” Harry said, his voice growing louder. Without waiting for Sirius, he started to run down the corridor, past the dining area and into the foyer, where he stopped short.

Snape was coming down the stairs, his lip curled in disgust, but Harry ignored that.

“Read this, P—Professor Snape,” Harry said uncertainly, holding the paper out. “Please.”

Snape crossed the foyer, snatching the paper from Harry's hand. “What is this?” he demanded. “I am not reading anything, Potter.”

“If you want to go back to your reality,” Sirius said, walking over to Harry. “Then I think that you should listen to Harry and just read it.”

“Black,” Snape snarled, “I am not going to read this!”

“Harry thinks that it might help to get you back to your reality!” Sirius yelled, frowning in anger. “That's how he and this Snape ended up going to different realities—by reading that other piece of paper that Harry has in his hand!”

Snape looked down at the paper in his own hands, scowling. “Is it some type of silly incantation? These words would possibly send me back?”

“I—it's my theory,” Harry answered quietly, averting his eyes from Snape's.

“Oh, of course,” Snape said sarcastically. “A theory from a mere thirteen-year-old.”

“Twelve-year-old,” Sirius corrected loudly, realizing that that bit of information didn't help matters much. He lowered his voice as he added, “…Technically, at the moment.”

Harry looked back up, waiting patiently for Snape to start reading. He was just staring at the paper, scowling—why wouldn't he read? The quicker this Snape was gone and Severus was back would've been the best.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of silence and standing, Snape started to read the paper—although each word that came out of his mouth was distasteful and reluctant.

“Permissum veneficus futurus laxo, illico hinc noctis, illico hinc hora.”

Snape looked around, an annoyed look on his face, saying, “Nothing happened, Potter. So much for your—”

Snape's eyes grew slightly larger as he doubled over, taking in a sharp intake of breath. He jerked backwards, letting himself double over onto the floor. Then, the next second, he sunk, disappearing right into the floor.

Harry's own eyes grew large and he looked up at Sirius, who was gaping at the spot where Snape once was.

“Wh—what happened?” Sirius asked, his voice soft and a little shaky. “He just… fell through the… floor?”

“I don't know,” Harry whispered, looking scared. “Si—Sirius, what if I hurt him?”

Sirius frowned, looking down at the boy. “How could you have hurt him?”

“I made him read the paper!” Harry insisted. “What if it was… something wrong…?”

Sirius, however, didn't have time to answer. He jumped back, letting out a loud yelp as something fell through the ceiling.

--

Severus paced through Dumbledore's office. How long was he supposed to stay here, in this office, with Dumbledore sitting there with a frown on his face? Severus already lost count as to how long he had been pacing for. It seemed that pacing was the only thing, at that moment, he could do.

Perhaps when he was back in his own reality—with Black and Harry—then, he'd stop this pacing.

“Severus, would you like to sit down? Have a lemon drop?” Dumbledore asked softly. “Until you can remember how you ended up here, I have no certain, exact answer—”

“I know,” Severus answered, annoyed. “I have been trying to remember, I just cannot recall anything. It—”

Severus paused, looking down at the bottom of his shoe. How long had this… piece of paper, been there for? He could have stepped on it anywhere in this school, but…. Severus peeled the paper off, frowning. They were words in a different language… And then it struck him, and a small gasp escaped his lips.

Something actually struck him, in his gut. He could feel it.

“I remember,” Severus managed out, before stumbling backwards. Dumbledore stood up from his chair, looking alarmed.

What was happening? Severus thought as he fell to the floor, trying to catch his breath. This feeling… he had felt it in his study, when he had read the paper out loud. He hadn't read the paper out loud again, though. So it couldn't have been that…

It wasn't the same paper, though, Severus realized. They were different words.

He was experiencing the same familiar, gut-wrenching feeling—like somebody had just grabbed his insides and were twisting them each way, squeezing until he felt like he had trouble breathing—oh, how he hated this. Never, ever again would he read a paper out loud when it was in a different language.

--

Severus opened his eyes, feeling thankful that he was able to breath again. He felt sore, he had a headache and… some brandy would've been nice, then.

“Severus?” A small, hesitant voice questioned.

Severus blinked, sitting up. He was momentarily mesmorized by the throbbing in the side of his head, but pushed the headache out of his mind.

“Harry?” Severus said, trying to stand on shaky feet. Immediately he felt himself being supported by two people—Harry and Black?

“I think it really is him,” Harry's voice said excitedly from Severus's right.

“Let's hope,” came the reply, from Black. “Snape? Do you feel… horrible?”

“Execrable,” Severus muttered, feeling something soft underneath him, now. The couch, he realized. “What happened, Black?”

“Harry,” Sirius said, sitting down on the other side of the couch. “He found the paper in your study. I found the other one on the steps that lead downstairs. You are the right Snape, aren't you? What did you do?”

“I am—I merely found that paper and read it,” Severus explained, sounding annoyed. He really didn't feel like explaining anything at that moment. “I assume that's what Harry did, as well.”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “It was. You forgot, too, didn't you, Severus? After you go to the different reality, something must make you forget how you got there in the first place. Then… perhaps… when you see that paper, the incantation, it must trigger your memory.”

“Just give me a moment to recollect myself,” Severus said, closing his eyes again. “Something for my head would be nice…”

“Right,” Sirius agreed. “And a brandy, too?”

“Mmm,” Severus agreed. It was surprising how well Sirius could seem to read his mind. He suddenly remembered Snape, the other Snape. Severus realized after a moment that he was, probably, back in his own reality. Going back to a reality must work differently than when you're going to one….

Severus briefly opened his eyes again to find that Sirius had disappeared, and Harry was left sitting on the couch, too, looking thoughtful. Severus studied him, saying, “What is it, Harry? Something's on your mind.”

Harry was startled out of his thoughts. “I… just thought… you were in my reality, weren't you Severus? Dumbledore knows that I'm here, doesn't he?”

“Yes,” Severus replied slowly. “He does.”

Harry hesitated. “So… do you think he'd get the hint if I didn't go back?”

Severus stared blankly at Harry, sitting up a little bit straighter. Harry was looking at Severus, rather hopefully. Severus, clearly at a loss for words, tried to say something, only to have Sirius come back into the room at that moment.

“Here, this'll help,” Sirius said, handing Severus a pill. He went to give Severus his brandy, as well, but at Severus's look, scowled.

“You don't really expect me to drink that with that in the glass, do you, Black?” Severus, narrowing his eyes.

Sirius frowned, taking the little umbrella that he had put in the glass out. Severus accepted the drink this time; Sirius set the umbrella on the table in front of them and sat down in the armchair across from the couch.

“It's good to have you back, Snape,” Sirius said, grinning as he propped his feet up on the table.

Severus scowled. “Get your feet off of my table, Black.”

Sirius's grin faltered as he let his feet fall to floor. “Yep—like I said… good to have you back….”

--

Harry stood in-between Sirius and Severus in Dumbledore's office as they had both started to explain what happened. At times, he had often began to tune into what was being said, but he mostly thought about what he was going to do. He now knew how to return to his reality… the right one… but he honestly had to ask himself if he wanted to.

So, he began to list the pros and cons.

What would be the pros of leaving? All right, Harry had to admit that he started to draw a blank, so he decided to go onto the next one: What would be pros of staying?

Well, there were quite a few, he realized. One would be that he'd actually have a home, and a family. He'd live in a town where everybody seemed to love him. This reality was just the same as his, really, with bonuses.

What would be the cons of leaving? Well, he'd be leaving Sirius and Severus, and this town. He'd miss the closeness of the town, how everybody knew each other…

The cons of staying?

… Harry was at a loss.

“Of course,” Dumbledore was murmuring, in a tone of realization. “I have heard of this incantation—they are very scarce, and only appear when one desperately wants to get away.”

Severus scowled. “I did not 'desperately' want to get away from anything.”

“No, but Harry did,” Dumbledore said quietly, looking up at Harry. “When you found that piece of paper—what happened earlier?”

Harry hesitated, his eyes going out of focus as he thought back to that night, saying, “Earlier… I… ended up getting angry at Aunt Marge, and blew her up… like a balloon, and then I left the Dursleys.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Sometimes, these incantations can appear in any reality when one is desperate to get away—then, in some realities, they don't appear at all. When Harry read that incantation, it must have followed him, and then Severus ended up finding it…”

“And read it,” Sirius finished.

Dumbledore nodded. “You were lucky that, when the other Severus, read that incantation that the two of you didn't land in a completely different reality altogether. It's said that you can never be sure which reality you'd end up in.”

“We're going to have to get rid of that paper,” Sirius said. “We can do it… if, er, when… Harry goes back…”

“Of course,” Harry said quickly, nodding. “Yeah.”

--

Sirius sat on a stool in the kitchen beside Harry. Severus stood by the kitchen sink, going through the cabinets for cups. The day was almost over, and neither of them had very much to say. The household had been quiet; not once had Harry mentioned going back.

So, Sirius decided he'd bring the subject up. He coughed before saying casually, “So Harry—uhm, when do you plan on leaving? Or, maybe… perhaps… did you have a change of heart?”

Harry's eyes, which were resting on Sirius as he spoke, immediately swerved onto Severus as, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Professor visibly straighten, though he continued to rummage through the cabinets as if he wasn't paying much attention to their conversation.

“Wha—what do you mean?” Harry stammered, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. Of course, he knew perfectly well what Sirius was talking about; he was merely stalling until he could figure out what he was going to say. Was he going to stay? It was perfectly tempting… after all, he had everything he had in his reality that he did here, except more. Hogwarts, his House, family.

Real family. That cared for him! A father and a godfather.

Besides, he had gone through the pros and cons. But, if he did decide to stay, what would the wizarding world say to Harry's sudden return? He assumed that everybody knew that he had died—at least, the other him. They could think of something to say, Harry realized. Although perhaps they could simply… tell the truth?

That he wasn't the Harry that this reality knew—that, in fact, he was from a different reality, and he had mistakenly stumbled upon this one? Stranger things have happened… haven't they?

It was something for Harry to ponder about.

“You know what I mean,” Sirius said. “Have you decided that, maybe, you want to stay? No pressure in answering,” he added quickly. “It's just… a question.”

“I—I don't know,” Harry admitted, the blush remaining on his cheeks. His voice became softer as he answered with, “Maybe…”

“What?”

The sudden exclamation had come from Severus, who pulled his head out from inside the cabinet and whirled around to face Harry.

“What did you just say?” Severus asked, staring intently at Harry. Harry's blush grew deeper.

“I said,” Harry said, his voice still remaining low and soft, “that—well—maybe.”

“Maybe,” Severus echoed in disbelief. “You're considering staying? You truly are?”

Harry shrugged his left shoulder. “Well, not really 'considering' anymore. Kind of… certain? Unless, you don't want me to stay, 'cause if you don't I can get Dumbledore and go right back, it's no problem—”

“You're joking,” Severus said, his voice still layered with disbelief, just as it had been before. He slowly stepped closer to the counter, where Harry sat. His eyes narrowed. “Was I hearing correctly, just then, when you suggested that I—we—didn't want you to stay? You'd honestly even utter it, let alone have the thought cross your mind?”

Sirius put a hand on the side of his mouth, as if telling Harry a secret that he didn't want Severus to hear—even though he said it in a loud whisper, “I think that's Snape's way of saying yes he'd want you to stay!”

Severus scowled at Sirius. “Of course it is,” he replied. “We just have a little complication with the situation that, before Hogwarts begins again, we need to fix.”

Harry frowned. “What complication is that?”

“The complication,” Severus explained, “is that you're dead.”

Ah, right, yes! That complication, the one that he had just been thinking about. Could they do what he thought of, just tell the truth about the realities? Harry wondered how much last year at Hogwarts in this reality had differed from his. Though, he had to remember that he was no longer going into his third year, but his second year. All he knew was that there were many similarities between his life at Hogwarts in the two realities—like he was still in Gryffindor, he was still friends with Ron and Hermione, and it seemed the same situation with the Philosophers Stone happened, although with different results.

But were there any more tiny, little differences? Besides the fact that Severus Snape was his father—which was more of a big difference than a little one. Really, though, would they matter if there were? If they did plan to tell everybody the truth, then Harry thought that it wouldn't matter. Not really.

Then something dawned on him. His second year—that was the Chamber of Secrets. Would the same thing happen this time? Or, would it be something completely different? If it was the same, then Harry had an advantage: he knew what was going to happen. If he could change something, one thing, then things might turn out differently…

But did he want to change them? What if he ended up changing it so that Lucius Malfoy, instead of giving Ginny Weasley the diary, gave it to somebody else instead? Then Harry wouldn't have a clue who it would be, which would possibly make things more difficult…

--

Later that night, Harry climbed into bed without taking a look in the mirror at his new appearance. He was actually getting used to this appearance now.

Sirius had just left after saying goodnight to Harry. He kept expressing, ever since Harry had announced it, how happy he was that Harry decided to stay with them. It seemed that Sirius would be around the house a lot more than he had been with Harry staying. Now, Severus was approaching Harry's bed, and Harry waited for another awkward goodnight, like the ones once used to get, before Severus had found that paper…

“You are sure with your decision, Harry?” Severus asked tentatively as he drew closer. “You're completely positive that you want to stay? Absolutely certain?”

“I'm sure,” Harry replied firmly. “Completely positive.” He paused as Severus sat down on the edge of the bed. “I never really knew that there were any other different realities. I just thought… I dunno. I guess I never even thought about it.”

“There's many other realities out there,” Severus said softly. “Ones with numerous possibilities of… everything.”

Harry nodded, and then suddenly grimaced. “Euchh—never mind.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at Harry, who blushed. “What was that for?”

Harry hesitated. “I just—well, when you said… about realities with numerous possibilities of everything… I thought of a reality where—.” Harry clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

Severus smirked, giving Harry a look. “Is it that horrible?”

Harry nodded, making another face.

“Then do tell me.”

Harry finally said, with great effort, “Where—” Though, the last part came out so mumbled and quiet that Severus hadn't heard one thing.

“I didn't quite catch that,” said Severus, causing Harry to turn red again.

“Where Filch was my father!” Harry finally blurted, the red turning a deeper shade. Severus only gave Harry an amused look as he stood up.

“Well, well. When I return to Hogwarts I must tell Argus Filch that my son wants him to be his father. Do you think he'll be pleased, Harry?”

Harry kept that shade of red as he noted Severus referring to him as his son—he felt pleased as he ran the word over again in his mind—but he let out a gasp.

“You wouldn't do that. I didn't say I wanted him to be my father, either! You've twisted this all around.”

Severus retreated back to the doorway, where his hand rested on the light switch.

“Ah, but things are more interesting this way, aren't they?” Severus turned off the light; Harry's room became dark except for the bit of moonlight that creeped in through the window. “Goodnight, Harry. May you have pleasant dreams of Argus Filch as your father.”

Harry scowled in the dark at Severus's last sarcastic comment, but didn't reply. It's funny, he thought as his eyelids closed, that at one point he'd be grimacing at the mere thought of Severus Snape as his father, yet here he was. Severus Snape was his father, and he was happy. Peaceful. Things felt right.

Severus slowly brought Harry's door forward, letting only a crack remain open. He had it, he thought, feeling pleased. He now had his second chance.

The next morning, at the table in the dining area, Sirius looked over at the corner table sitting across the room, where the basket of food that Mrs Hammond had given them sat.

“We should go to the Nameless restaurant today,” Sirius mused. “What do you lot say?”

Harry glanced over at Severus, to see his reaction, before looking over at the corner table that Sirius was staring at, saying, “Alex made that food over there—why do you want to go to the restaurant?”

Sirius frowned, his eyes not moving. “He makes good food.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed slowly, “but he made us that basket of food over there.”

Sirius now looked at Harry, who was pointing over to the basket, and frowned. Harry tried to explain again, but failed. Finally, he looked over at Severus again for help.

“Severus,” Harry tried, “could you please help…?”

Severus looked down at his plate of food that Nome had made for breakfast, looking amused, but kept silent.

Sirius shook his head, changing the subject. “So, we'll need to get rid of that paper today, ri-ight?”

Harry looked up at Sirius, saying hastily, “I'll do it!” He looked back and forth at the adults, adding, “I need to be the one to do this.”

“I think it would be fine,” Severus spoke up. “Just—what is that?”

Sirius looked behind him, then looked back at Severus with a funny look on his face. “It's the door, Snape—you've never heard or seen one of those before?”

Severus scowled. “At ten thirty in the morning, Black?”

“Oh.” Sirius nodded, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I forgot it was so early. One minute.”

Sirius walked out of the dining area and into the foyer. The knocking continued as he approached the french doors. Opening the door, his eyes widened, and he froze, staring forward with a look of pure surprise on his face.

He quickly found his voice, yelling out into the house, “Snape!” as he gave a weak smile to the people on the threshold.

He felt Severus's presence beside him. There was a small gasp, though he knew it didn't come from Severus, but from Harry. Sirius couldn't seem to peel his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

Several people coughed, waiting for someone to speak. Sirius could only gape. At least a dozen people were in front of him—though, maybe it was less.

“Sirius,” Alex Bewley greeted uncertainly, but tried to use his most professional tone. Numerous other people that worked at the several other different restaurants and diners in the town stood nervously beside him on the threshold. “Severus, Harry. We, the people of the town, have reason to believe that it was a young Harry's birthday fourteen days ago—”

“Reason to believe?” Severus repeated. He still seemed to be surprised, as well, over the amount of people standing in front of their house. “Every single one of you people have memorized Harry's birthday.”

“It's… like… a… holiday here! Only… not really…” Sirius added, trailing off. He quieted himself with a small grin.

“Well, fine, we knew,” Alex corrected, looking sheepish. “What we don't know is why it wasn't celebrated! You never went out to eat—it's a tradition!—and, none of us have seen you out since Severus and Harry returned from that boarding school—”

“What happened?” One of the people in the crowd surrounding their house yelled out.

“Nothing happened!” Sirius yelled back, scowling. “It just… y'know… something came up and we just didn't… couldn't…celebrate—”

“We were worried!” Somebody else yelled out.

“Well, that's very nice,” Severus said uncomfortably. “Now, all of you—go home!”

“Everything's all right?” Alex questioned hesitantly. “Nothing's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong,” Sirius said exasperatedly. He took Harry gently by the shoulder and pulled the boy in front of him, for the people to see. “See? Look, here's Harry. He's fine.”

“Alex!” Someone yelled from the crowd. “Is he really okay?”

Alex inspected Harry closely. Harry slowly began to inch away, and Alex turned towards the crowd, nodding his head.

“He looks fine!” Alex announced. There was a murmur amongst the crowd, and one by one, they slowly started to leave.

“Hi Sirius!”

A rather short girl with long blonde hair waved brightly from the departing crowd, giving a flirtatious smile as she started to leave, too, with the rest of the people. Looking embarrassed, Sirius gave a weak smile and turned away.

“Who's that?” Harry asked, grinning.

“Elizabeth Hawlen,” Sirius answered in a whisper, glancing over his shoulder to see if she was still there. “It's horrible—she likes me.”

“That's horrible?” Harry frowned. “Shouldn't you like that?”

“Well… I do,” Sirius replied. “I just don't like her, and what makes it horrible, is the fact that she is Mrs Hammond's neice, and so she can't know that I don't like her, 'cause then she'll tell Mrs Hammond, and Mrs Hammond will ask why…. Do you know how many times I've tried to get her to start to like Snape?”

Severus scowled as he shut the door. “I prefer that she like Black—I am not the dating type, and never plan to be.”

“Oh yes, how could I forget?” Sirius started to imitate Severus. “'I am quite content with Harry, and need no type of female friend, thank you very much.'”

Severus scoffed. “Well, I don't.”

Sirius snickered as Severus walked away from the door and back into the dining area.

“I think,” Sirius said, throwing his playful attitude aside and turning austere, “the only girl he ever did love, was your mother—Lily—and I don't think he wants that to change. Hence… the no female friends—”

“Black.” Severus stepped out of the dining area, glaring at Sirius. “I can hear you.”

“Well… that's good, at least you're not deaf,” Sirius said. He winced as the doorbell started to ring, a knock on the door. Once, twice—another ring from the doorbell, two more impatient knocks. He moaned. “That's Elizabeth. I just know it. Harry, could you—?”

Harry's eyes widened. He took a few steps back, shaking his head.

Sirius pouted. “Why not? I—I'd do it for you!”

“If Harry doesn't wish to answer the door,” Severus said calmly, “then there is no reason why he has to.”

“Ple-e-ease, Harry?” Sirius implored, wincing again as there was another knock, and then another. He dropped to his knees, in front of Harry's feet, and clasped his hands together. “Oh, please, Harry, oh please! I… I'll… I just don't want to talk to her!”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You really don't want to talk to this Elizabeth Hawlen?”

Sirius nodded eagerly.

“Fine,” Harry agreed, stepping past Sirius, walking towards the door. Sirius immediately scrambled up and ran into the lounge.

Harry pulled open the door, nervously looking at the woman who stood on the threshold. Short, blonde and perky-looking—it was Elizabeth Hawlen, Harry realized.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, grinning broadly. “How are you today?”

“I'm fine,” Harry replied, glancing down at his feet. He felt awkward talking to someone that he didn't know, yet they knew him. Though, it wasn't actually 'him', Harry just wasn't going to correct himself anymore. “A—are you looking for Sirius?”

She nodded. “Yes, yes. Where is he?”

“He…” Harry faltered, turning red. Of course, if he was going to lie for Sirius, he'd have to make up an excuse for why he couldn't talk to this lady! “He is, actually, um…”

“A bender,” Elizabeth Hawlen finished with a disappointed sigh. She nodded her head, her shoulders sagging. “It's so… obvious. He's handsome, he lives with Severus, I haven't seen him with any women… unless…”

“No!”

There was a loud crash from the lounge, a yelp from Sirius, and then Sirius appeared, hopping into the foyer while trying to nurse his foot.

“No, no, no,” Sirius said, letting out an “Oomph!” as, still trying to nurse his foot and hop towards the door at the same time, he tripped and fell.

There was a chuckle from the dining area—clearly from Severus, who Harry assumed was most amused by what was going on.

Sirius stood up, dusting himself off. He limped the rest of the way towards the doors.

“I,” he started slowly, cringing, “am not attracted to the same gender—nor am I attracted to Snape! I am very, very straight—the straightest! Honestly.”

Elizabeth Hawlen stared at Sirius, and then slowly turned around, making her way down the steps. “Goodbye Sirius,” she called over her shoulder, walking through the grass until she approached the street, where she passed a few people who were looking at the Snape manor and whispering.

Sirius turned towards Harry, looking exhausted.

“I'm really not,” he insisted.

“I know,” Harry said austerely, nodding his head. “I believe you.”

“Good,” Sirius said, looking satisfied. It lasted very shortly, and then a grim look took over. “Now, I have to go fix that lamp in the lounge…”

Harry grabbed onto the doorknob, ready to shut the door—but then the people, standing out in front of the house, caught his eye. What were they doing?

“Harry!” One of them yelled, a chubby, older-looking woman, rushing towards the door. “Good, OK, now tell me—will you be on Mahon Hollow around one thirty-five?”

Harry was at a loss for answers, so he stared at the woman blankly. Where was Mahon Hollow?

“I—I don't think so,” he replied.

“Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “What about Crescent Avenue? Around… two fifteen?”

Harry shook his head, turning around to see Severus walking slowly towards the door. He felt grateful that he wouldn't have to answer anymore questions that he didn't know the answer to.

“Oh, Severus!” She said, continuing. “Where do you think you will all be around one thirty-five and two fifteen?”

Severus stared blankly at the woman, who was looking back intently, waiting for an answer. After a moments silence, he said, “Goodday, Ms Bellingham.”

'Ms Bellingham' gave Severus a look, but gave up. “Goodday, Mr Snape…”

“Who was that?” Harry whispered as the lady left, and Severus began to shut the door.

“Jen Bellingham,” Severus answered, just as Sirius rushed out from the lounge, yelling, “Is that Jen?”

“You just missed her,” Harry answered. Sirius's shoulders sagged.

“She stole my hat,” he said, sighing. “I think she wants to keep it—whenever I ask her for it back she always changes the subject, and whenever she sees me she ignores me.”

“Did you fix what you broke?” Severus demanded. “You're exasperatingly clumsy.”

“Not on purpose,” Sirius insisted. “On occasion I can be quite clumsy… and often just to annoy you…”

Sirius wandered back into the dining area, and Harry followed with Severus.

“You've destroyed every single thing in this house,” Severus pointed out. “If you've just tried to break things to annoy me, don't—”

“I've always fixed them,” Sirius argued, sitting down. “It's fun to see your face twist like it does when you hear something shatter—you should try it sometime. Or that time when I tried to have a food fight with you—”

Severus gave Sirius a dark look. “Don't get another idea, Black.”

“Everyone needs a laugh once in a while,” Sirius said innocently. “Harry didn't mind the idea. He had the time of his life throwing those noodles across the room. They looked especially nice in your hair, Snape. They made good wall decorations, too.”

“Don't bring Harry into this,” Severus said, scowling. “Another stunt like that and you won't be having any food to throw around, Black.”

Sirius's mouth fell open. “You wouldn't let me starve, you're not that mean!”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “You're going to test that theory?”

Sirius drew quiet, looking over at Harry who was silently watch the two argue. He pushed in his chair, offering Harry a smile.

“You'll get used to it. The arguing between Snape and I,” Sirius elaborated. “You'll become accustomed to it sooner or later, since it does happen… often.”

Harry grinned. “Maybe I will. Can I ask a question?”

“Other than the one you just asked?” Sirius said, and he nodded. “Go ahead.”

“This town… is my birthday really…?”

Sirius exchanged glances with Severus before looking back at Harry.

“This town,” Severus started out slowly, “is…”

As Severus trailed off, obviously looking for the right word for the description, Sirius tried to help out.

“It's… bizarre?”

“Quite,” Severus agreed. “They have become familiar with your birthday. I suppose they found it odd when we didn't go out for your birthday, which we normally celebrate every year since we moved here. You've become considerably popular within the town—”

“Considerably,” Sirius repeated, nodding his head in agreement. “Let's finish breakfast now then, shall we? I'd like to at least eat in—”

Sirius let out an exaggerated sigh as the doorbell began to ring once more. He walked slowly towards the door, looking exhausted. Harry couldn't tell what was being said. The voices were hushed, and when Sirius returned he had a satisfied grin on his face.

“Did Jen Bellingham give you your hat back?" Harry asked, looking up at Sirius with a grin.

Sirius shook his head, and walked over to Severus. Harry frowned as he watched Sirius whisper something that, as much as Harry tried to strain to listen, he could not comprehend. Severus's expression remained blank.

“Very well,” Severus said out loud, briefly looking at Sirius, and then turning his gaze towards Harry. “What do you say that, afterwards, we take an excursion—”

“In other words, a trip,” Sirius clarified.

Severus gave Sirius a cold look. “—An excursion to Mahon Hollow?"

Sirius's grin widened as Harry's puzzled expression deepened. “Crescent Avenue too, of course, since they're linked together.”

“Why?” Harry questioned suspiciously.

“No reason,” Sirius replied hastily. “Just… no reason at all…."

“What are you doing Sirius?” Harry questioned, staring in confusion as Sirius pranced around the foyer excitedly. Severus leaned against the oak banister post with a blank expression on his face. Harry had absolutely no idea what they were up to.

“I'm waiting,” Sirius answered distractedly. “Why can't they be faster?”

“Who do you want to be faster?” Harry asked. “What are you on about?”

Sirius didn't answer. He acted as if Harry hadn't even said anything to him. Harry looked over at Severus, thinking he might clarify what was going on, but even he just stared at Harry, the tiniest of smirks playing across his lips.

The doorbell rang, causing Sirius to give Harry a wide smile as he raced to go answer it.

“Sirius,” came a friendly voice. Harry recognized the voice as Alex's. “I believe you've been expecting something?”

“Finally!” Sirius exclaimed, whirling around to motion Harry and Severus to follow him. “Come on you two, Mahon Hallow won't wait forever!”

Harry walked alongside Severus out the door. He looked up at him curiously, asking, “What exactly's going on on Mahon Hollow?”

“I'm not sure,” Severus said easily, though Harry had a feeling that he wasn't being quite so honest. “Perhaps we'll have to walk over there and find out, hm?”

Harry hadn't realized how dark it became. What time was it, anyway? He lost track a while ago.

“It's nice out,” Sirius called over his shoulder as he walked in front of Harry and Severus with Alex. It was almost as if he'd read Harry's mind. “Why did you want us out so late, Alex? It's pretty dark out. I didn't realize you meant around this time.”

Alex looked back at Harry and winked as he answered Sirius. “You'll see!”

The cool night breeze slipped along Harry's face, blowing his hair back some. The streets seemed so quiet and dark. Almost eerie.

“Mahon Hollow,” Severus said in a low voice to Harry, nodding his head to the street in front of them.

Harry inspected it closely. It had to be the darkest street they had come by. Possibly the darkest street in the whole town! Every single light was completely out. Why did they want to come here?

Harry felt Severus's hand rest upon his shoulder, and as he looked up, Severus gave it a light squeeze.

As if that had been the trigger, suddenly Harry was blinded by a burst of light, and an extremely loud, “Happy Belated Birthday, Harry!”

When Harry was finally able to wrench his eyes open, he saw that all of Mahon Hollow had been strewn with bright, mostly white, lights. They almost looked like miniature Christmas lights. An enormous banner was somehow stuck on a house on one side of the street and the other end of it was on the one across from it, hanging between the streets. In colorful script it read “Happy Birthday!” although between those two words, 'belated' had been squeezed in in cramped, messy writing.

Harry figured that probably the entire town, or most of it, was huddled through the streets.

Streamers were carelessly thrown everywhere, glitter littered the streets. It looked… amazing.

“There's a huge barbeque down on Crescent Avenue,” Alex finally spoke up. “We were all in such a rush to get this together, we held off eating supper, so we're considering this as a very late supper.”

“You didn't have to do this,” Harry breathed, his eyes wide and shining in disbelief. “I haven't had an actual birthday party in… well my whole life… but… thank you!”

Harry was too wrapped up to notice Alex's confused stare, so Severus spoke up quickly. “He means one as fancy and… extravagant as this.”

Alex grinned. “We tried our best, considering he didn't exactly have an appropriate real birthday…”

“Well I think it's great,” Sirius said enthusiastically. “It's a great way to introduce Harry to the town.”

Alex's confused look returned.

“Again,” Sirius added quickly. “After all, he's… been gone… long, of course. He needs to be reintroduced.”

Harry smiled weakly at Alex, and then quickly pulled Severus aside, looking rather scared. “What am I going to do?” he whispered, looking at the townspeople, who, satisfied with Harry's surprised reaction, began mingling and talking animatedly. “I don't know anybody!”

“It's all right,” Severus said soothingly. “Just stick with me, and act like a Snape.”

Harry bit his lip. “Mean and snarky?”

Severus scowled. “I am not mean and snarky!”

“Well maybe not you but—urgh, I don't know how the other me acted! I can't be like him! I give up.”

Severus stayed quiet, his features softening as he said, “Shall I rephrase, then? Just act like yourself.”

Harry swallowed, nodding his head. “Something I'm good at, at least. Should we go in there now?”

“I think that would be appropriate.”

Harry let out a breath, noticing then that Sirius had left them and was now laughing with a bunch of people a little way down the street. With an encouraging nod from Severus, the two approached the mob of people awaiting them.

“Twelve years old! Do you feel any older, Harry?” a young woman asked excitedly from Harry's right.

“Yes—yeah.”

“Oh, Harry.” An older lady approached him. Harry immediately recognized her as Mrs. Hammond. “I remember when you were just a little baby, and Severus moved in with you. So hard to believe it was that many years ago. Now look at you! So handsome, just like your father. You must be so proud, Severus.”

Mrs. Hammond smiled warmly as Severus nodded. “I certainly am.”

Another lady, obviously overhearing the conversation, immediately joined in. “Severus and Harry! I remember the day they moved in, too. Harry was just the cutest little baby, and Severus was so inexperienced…”

Severus scowled. “Inexperienced.”

“Don't worry,” she added quickly. “Look how he's turned out! You did a fine job.”

“Yes, well, we should be moving along,” Severus said, gently tugging Harry's hand. “Goodday, ladies.”

“Who was she?” Harry whispered as they walked away.

“Mrs. Judy Warbrough,” Severus answered. “Over there's Jen Bellingham. She's known for borrowing things and hardly returning them, though I figure you are already quite aware of that. Next to her, that's Jim, her husband. Over there… oh, yes, Anthony Ackerman. Quite annoying, if I do say so. Olivia Eaton, Joshua Burman, Jacob Worths—”

“Happy Birthday, sport!”

It was almost inaudible, but Harry still caught the groan Severus let out as they both turned around to find Evan Taylor beaming down proudly at Harry.

“Hi Mr. Taylor,” Harry said uncertainly, praying that that was actually his last name.

Evan chuckled. “No, no, what have I told you about that? It's Evan, kiddo, Evan.”

“Evan,” Harry amended. He quickly looked up to Severus staring at Evan coldly. Evan didn't seem to even notice, however.

“You know, it was my idea that we should throw this together,” Evan said brightly. “Do you like it?”

“I really do,” Harry answered honestly with a grin. “It's pretty great.”

“Well I'm glad, after all—”

Severus let out a loud, aggravated sigh, looking utterly annoyed. “Harry, your godfather will not cease calling your name. I suggest we go see what he could possibly want before he irks me more than he already has.”

“All right. It was nice talking to you,” Harry added as Severus gently began to pull him away, and he hardly heard what Evan's reply was.

“Is Sirius still calling for me?” Harry asked as he and Severus made their way through the crowds, smiling and saying hi to people that were merely strangers to him. It was difficult to pretend that he actually did know them. “I can't even see him.”

“He was never calling you in the first place,” Severus answered briefly, and he didn't care to add on to that.

“You really don't like Evan Taylor, do you?” Harry questioned curiously. Already the smell of the barbeque wafting down the street from Crescent Avenue tingled his nose.

“I don't care for him.”

Harry hesitated. “Is it because you're jealous?” Harry wasn't expecting Severus to stop in his tracks, causing Harry to stop as well and turn to give him a puzzled look. “What, whats wrong?”

A weird look crossed Severus's face, and he continued to remain still. “Where on earth did you get that absurd idea?”

Harry blushed. “Sirius suggested it to me. Why, are you?”

“I certainly am not,” Severus said indignantly. “Black and his suggestions. Harry, you're a fool to listen to one thing that comes out of that mans mouth.”

Severus began to walk forward again, and Harry gladly followed.

“But why, are you?” Harry pressed, looking up at Severus, waiting for an answer.

“Hardly,” Severus said shortly, but the way he said it made Harry doubt that, so he dropped it anyway.

They continued their way down Mahon Hollow, saying hi and making short conversation with people when necessary. Soon, Harry was introduced to so many people, and was trying desperately to remember names and faces, that his head began to hurt.

Then he saw the connecting street, Cresent Avenue, and the smell of the barbeque became more intense as they neared. Sure enough, Harry easily spotted Sirius amongst the enormous amount of people crowding the food. It seemed Sirius spotted them too, because he grabbed his plate of food and approached them with a look of enthusiasm.

“Have you met everybody?” Sirius asked, offering Harry something from his plate.

Harry snorted. “Not exactly. It'll take all night to meet everybody.”

Sirius gave Harry a grin. “Don't worry about it, just enjoy yourself. This is, after all, for you. Did you see Evan Taylor, by any chance? He came around looking for you.”

“Yes,” Severus said sourly. “We were quite lucky to get away.”

Sirius slid Harry another grin and gave his head a small shake. His eyes suddenly widened as he used his free hand to point to the food. “Did you know they had a plate of gherkins over there?” Sirius let out a low moan. “And Caroline Jursen made spring rolls. Can you believe how delicious they were? I think I may have burnt my chin, though.”

“You think?” Harry repeated, his eyebrows raised.

“There's a good chance that Black was too busy stuffing his face to notice whether he burnt himself or not,” Severus commented distastefully. “I'd hardly be surprised.”

Sirius scowled, but didn't object. A curious look began to slip onto Sirius's face as he looked at something behind Harry. Harry noticed that Severus seemed to be string at the same thing as well. Turning his head, Harry saw… oh what were their names? Two older women, the names were on the tip of Harry's tongue…. One was… Abigail Gavet, so the other was… Colleen Prindle?

The chatter that filled the streets began to fade away as the two, holding a medium sized box, approached Harry with warm smiles. Harry quickly glanced around at his surroundings. Everyone seemed to be staring expectantly at them, and it made Harry nervous. He looked up at Severus to see what his expression was of, but to Harry he found it unreadable. Noticing that Harry was looking at him, Severus gave a brief nod of the head, which, for some reason, Harry found comforting, and his nervousness began to fade almost as quick as the chatter had.

“Harry,” the brunette woman started with a smile. Harry figured she might have been Colleen Prindle, which meant the strawberry blonde woman was Abigail Gavet. “Since this was such an unexpected event… well, we just hope you're having a great time, and, well—this is a present for you, from the people of the town.”

They handed the box to Harry, which uncomfortably, Harry accepted. It was rather light, with only a little bit of weight on one side. Harry wondered what it could be, and suddenly, with everybody staring at him, he began to feel embarrassed.

“Thank you,” he murmured, keeping his gaze down on the box with the tiny bow and ribbons on top. He noticed holes in the sides of the box. Curious, he thought. “Honestly, you didn't need to….”

There was a smile in Colleen Prindle's voice. “No, we wanted to. Now go ahead love, open it.”

Quickly, Harry glanced up at the two women before looking back down, and trying to hold the box in one arm and take the ribbon off with the other. Harry felt that people around him were holding their breath, waiting for his reaction when he took the cover off. It was deadly quiet. Somewhere in the crowd, a voice yelled out, “It best not be socks!” and immediately disturbed the silence.

There were a few chuckles, and Harry smiled weakly, his nervousness surfacing once again. He took the lid off, his breath catching in his throat as he stared down into the box.

“What is it?” the same voice yelled again uncertainly.

Carefully and gently, Harry pulled his present out of the box, looking up at the two women in front of him with wide eyes.

“It's a kitten!” someone else whispered loudly to people who couldn't tell what it was, and several “aw's” emerged from the crowd.

The small, black kitten meowed in Harry's palm. Harry had never actually held such a small kitten before, and tried his best not to squeeze it too tightly as he inspected it. Black, with rather yellowish green eyes, a small patch of white on its chest, its tail and above one of its paws.

“Do you like it?” Abigail asked softly.

“I do,” Harry replied honestly. “Is it a girl or boy?”

Colleen laughed. “A boy. We realized the only pet you've really had was that hamster years ago, and, well, after Sirius thought that it needed a little fresh air and took it out of its cage and let it run around outside… it never did show up again… and with a kitten, they can go outside.”

Sirius frowned, but stepped up beside Harry to look at the kitten in his hand. “Good thing none of us are allergic to cats,” he commented, touching it gently with his finger. “What are you going to name it, Harry?”

Harry swallowed, looking up at Severus. He was staring at the kitten as well, looking as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. “I—I dunno,” he said. “Maybe… maybe just Black? Since it's your last name and… it seems to be Severus's favorite color….” Harry hid his grin from Severus as he glared. “Is the cat… y'know… can he go on his own?”

“Oh, yes,” Abigail answered quickly, nodding her head. “Litter trained and everything.”

“Thank you,” Harry said again, rubbing the kittens silky fur inbetween his fingers. “Very much.”

Abigail and Colleen beamed. “You're welcome,” Colleen answered. “Very much.”

--

“Weeeeeeell, kiddo,” Sirius said, drawing out the word 'well' as they returned to the manor after eating some of the food, meeting some other townsfolk and thanking everyone. “Did you have a good time at the party?”

Harry smiled and nodding, the kitten still tucked protectively in his arm. “It was really something, and I've never had a kitten before.”

Harry set the kitten down on the mat in front of him. It began to walk around the hardwood floor.

“I think I'm going to go to bed, I'm knackered. 'Night, kiddo.” Sirius kissed the top of Harry's head, and careful not to trip over the tiny black ball of fur, made his way up the angled staircase.

“Perhaps you should sleep as well,” Severus mused, studying Harry intently. “You do look rather tired.”

“There's just…” Harry hesitated, wondering how he could possibly ask Severus what he was about to ask. He swallowed. “I'd like… I want to know… Could you tell me…?”

Severus stared at Harry blankly. “I cannot comprehend one thing you're trying to say.”

Harry sighed, frustrated with himself, and picked the kitten up. He walked over to the staircase and sat down on the penultimate step, setting the kitten down beside him on the carpet runner. He began to touch the black wrought iron ballusters next to him nervously, avoiding Severus's eye.

Harry mumbled something, and Severus scowled.

“Speak up, I cannot hear you!”

Harry sighed again, staring at Severus directly in the eye, and pronounced each word carefully. “I want you to show me… my… funeral.”

Harry sighed again, staring at Severus directly in the eye, and pronounced each word carefully. “I want you to show me… my… funeral.”

Severus stared at Harry, his face blank. Harry squirmed under Severus's gaze, beginning to feel uncomfortable. Should he have really asked that? Maybe it was a little too much, but there was nothing he could do about that now, was there? It wasn't as if he could take it back…

“Nevermind,” Harry said quickly, shaking his head. “Forget it. I'm gonna go to bed. 'Night Sev—”

“You want to… what?” Severus had drawled it out so slow that with each word, a rash of goosebumps covered a patch of Harry's arms.

“I said forget it,” Harry said, scooping Black up and standing. “Forget it, it was thick of me to ask. Honestly.”

Harry started to go up the stairs, but stopped himself as Severus spoke quietly.

“Why do you want to see his funeral?”

Harry bit his lip, stroking Black's fur as he tried to find his voice. “Well, I just—”

“Harry,” Severus said, sounding irritated. “I do not care to converse with the back of your head. Now, if you'd only turn around and begin over again….”

Harry cleared his throat, slowly turning around until he was staring down at Severus, who stood with his arms crossed at the bottom of the staircase. Harry stayed quiet for a moment or two, trying to collect his thoughts, and to make sure that his explanation came out clear without getting jumbled up.

“T—technically, if I'm staying, then… it was my funeral… and I can't help that I just want to see it, to be there, to just… know.”

So it hadn't been the clear, exact explanation Harry was hoping for, but at least he sort of managed to express it in a way that wasn't completely jumbled, but it wasn't eloquent, either.

“And how, exactly, would you be capable to see your… funeral?”

“Your pensieve,” Harry replied quickly. Inwardly, he groaned.. Severus didn't know that he knew about the pensieve, or that he had went and witnessed all of the memories that Severus had stored in that pensieve.

“My pensieve,” Severus repeated in a slow voice, his eyebrows slightly raised. He didn't look too happy. “And how, pray, do you know about my pensieve?”

“W—when that incident happened, and, well, you and…” Harry gulped. “When you… y'know… and my reality….”

Severus's gaze now turned icy. “You went snooping through my pensieve whilst I was away?”

It seemed 'away' was the only way to describe it.

“Not exactly, I mean Sirius was with me!”

The gaze turned even icier. “So Black allowed this?”

Harry stared at the ground, beginning to feel guilty. He knew, sooner or later, when Severus found out (which Harry, at the time, hoped he never would) that he'd get angry.

“Severus, I'm sorry,” he said softly, setting his kitten down on the step as it tried to wiggle free from his hands. “I know it was wrong to go into your pensieve without permission, and I hope… and I hope you forgive me for it. But at the time I just wanted to see what it was like before. And now I'd like to see the funeral.”

Severus shook his head. “I do not see why.”

“I just told you why,” Harry pointed out. “I'd just like to see.”

Severus seemed to take hours studying Harry's face, though Harry knew it was only a minute. He wished Severus could make up his mind faster. Oh, why did even ask in the first place? He knew it was a strange request, and he knew that he didn't know why he wanted to witness this Harry's funeral, exactly. Was it just curiosity? Curiosity always got the better of Harry, anyway.

“No,” Severus finally said firmly, looking pleased with his decision. “I will not allow you to see such a memory. Now, I suggest you retire to your bedroom for the night. It's quite late and as I've said, you look rather tired.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he recieved a glare from Severus, which was almost daring him to argue.

“Fine,” Harry muttered, bending down to scoop the kitten back into his hands, though it tried to wiggle free again. “Goodnight.”

Why was he in such a bad mood, Harry wondered, when all along he had a feeling that that would be Severus's answer?

When Harry reached the top step, he set the kitten down on the ground again so it could run around freely. He jumped, however, when he straightened up and found a tall person standing in front of him.

“Sorry I scared you,” Sirius said, grinning in amusement at the look on Harry's face. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, nodding. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Not yet,” Sirius replied. “I was kind of eavesdropping—although it honestly wasn't eavesdropping, considering you weren't so quiet and it was easy to hear.”

Harry grinned weakly. “Yeah, it was a weird thing to ask, wasn't it?”

Sirius threw a casual arm around Harry's shoulder, walking with him toward his bedroom. “Well, just a little, but I don't know why Snape said no… it's not really anything private, especially towards you.”

“I dunno,” Harry said.

Sirius watched closely as Harry sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at something on his floor—though Sirius began to realize Harry wasn't staring at anything in particular, just into space. Sensing something was wrong, Sirius sat down by Harry.

“Is something wrong? Is it Snape not letting you see the memory of the funeral?”

Harry glanced up at Sirius and shook his head. “No, not really.”

“You look weird,” Sirius observed slowly, frowning. “What is it? Are you… homesick?”

Harry looked startled. “Homesick? What do you mean?”

“I mean… your other reality? Are you homesick over that?” Sirius cleared his throat. “I—I mean it makes sense, you know. Are you?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders distractedly. “I dunno. There's nothing really to be homesick over in my reality. The Dursleys… I could never be homesick over them… but I do miss Ron and Hermione.”

Sirius looked thoughtful. “They're in this reality too, you know.”

“I know.” Harry nodded. “It just… sorta won't be the same in a way. They might be Ron and Hermione, just… a different Ron and Hermione.”

“I'm sorry,” Sirius said quietly, though Harry had no idea why he was apologizing. “If you really want to go back… did you ever get rid of that paper, Harry? I mean….”

Harry's eyes widened. “I—I don't want to leave here, but yes, I still need to get rid of that incantation. I haven't gotten around to that yet.”

“Make sure you do it soon,” Sirius said. “I really don't feel comfortable with that thing lying around the house.” Sirius stood, giving Harry another grin. “'Night. I hope you feel better soon.”

Harry returned the grin. “Don't worry, I will. Goodnight.”

Harry waited until Sirius closed the door until he got up off the bed and went over the dresser, where the folded up incantation lay. He picked it up, opened it, and stared at the letters. Why couldn't he seem to throw this away? Did he even really need to keep it…? If Severus or Sirius found out that he wanted to keep it, what would they say? Maybe he shouldn't even let them know he still had it.

Harry's eyes skimmed over his bedroom, trying to locate a good place to put the paper. He took a few steps forward, holding his breath as he heard a creak.

Harry pressed his foot down on a floorboard, and sure enough, it made a creaking sound again. He sat down behind the floorboard, setting the paper down beside him and tried to lift the floorboard up. This was so ridiculous—why was he even keeping the incantation in the first place? But he ended up lifting the loose floorboard up anyway, and folding the paper back up, he stuck it in there and then placed the floorboard back down in its proper place.

Harry passed the mirror on his way back over to his bed. The bandage that had been on his forehead was gone now, he had taken it off a few days ago, and he was relieved to see that it was not scarring. This Harry still had the lightning bolt scar, so Harry didn't really feel like having another scar on the other side of his forehead, as well.

Harry pulled the sheets down, his thoughts on what he and Sirius had been previously talking about. He began to wonder, though, if this Ron and Hermione were the same as the Ron and Hermione in his original reality? After all, Severus had definitely changed in this one, so it was possible other people had changed just as well.

--

“Morning, Harry,” Sirius greeted early the next morning as Harry graced Severus and Sirius with his presence at the table. “Colleen came by to give us the litter box for the cat, since we weren't able to get it last night. Now we just need to find a place to put it.”

Severus made a face. “If only the gift had been a dog. Dog's do not need litter boxes, which need cleaning—which I am not doing. Although, I do suppose one dog is enough in this house….”

Sirius made a face at Severus.

“Don't worry,” Harry said quickly, taking his seat. “I can do that. Where is Black, anyway?”

“Around somewhere,” Sirius answered. “He hasn't gotten used to walking up the staircase, so he can't be on the top floor.”

“I had him upstairs last night,” Harry reminded Sirius. “Did you bring him down?”

“Well, I put the box downstairs in our room, and then I took Black and put him down there as well so he knows where to go from now on. That is the room we thought we'd keep it in, right, Snape?”

“Correct,” Severus agreed, giving his head a nod.

Harry began to pile a few flapjacks on his plate, Sirius's next question startling Harry.

“So… are you feeling better today?”

Harry's eyes quickly flickered onto Severus, then briefly onto Sirius before letting them rest on his plate as he gave a sharp, quick nod. “Yeah. Uh huh.”

“You weren't feeling good yesterday?” Severus's voice was coated with surprise.

“Just feeling a little homesick,” Sirius said quickly. Harry looked up again to see that he looked as if he regretted bringing anything up. “Missing his friends a bit, thats all.”

Severus nodded his head. “Understandably.”

There was a silence that followed as Harry ate his flapjack. Out of nowhere, however, Sirius suddenly stood from his chair and began to try and pull Harry up from his chair.

“Are you done breakfast yet? Oh, yes, I think you are! Come on Harry, let me show you where I put that box exactly, all right?”

Harry barely had time to manage a, “What?” out before he found himself hastily being tugged down the stairs with Sirius yelling over his shoulder, “We'll be back, Snape!”

“What are we doing?” Harry finally asked, frowning.

“You'll see,” Sirius said, still holding onto Harry's elbow. Harry's frown deepened as they went past their room, and into Severus's study.

Harry's eyes widened, and he tried to squirm from Sirius's grip. “What are we doing?” he repeated again, in a quieter tone.

Sirius shut the door quietly, fixing his eyes on Severus's Pensieve. “Quiet,” he said softly, pulling out his wand from his pocket. Harry's eyes remained the same size.

“We shouldn't be in here,” Harry pointed out nervously. “What if Severus comes in here and finds us? What are you doing?”

“We must hurry then,” Sirius said. He gave Harry an amused look. “Come on, lighten up, kiddo. You wanted to see that funeral, didn't you? Well, Snape wasn't the only one there.”

“What happens if he finds that memory in there? Can he? He never had that in there before.”

Sirius nodded. “I know, he doesn't like even thinking about that day. It's hard just for him to talk about it. I can always retrieve it after we're through, though.”

Harry glanced hesitantly at the Pensieve. “I don't know….”

“It's either you want to or you don't,” Sirius said softly, looking back at the door. “Quick now, before Snape realizes something's up. He's good at knowing when I'm lying or not.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed quickly. “Let's do it.”

Harry watched, amazed, as Sirius transferred his memory to the pensieve. Then, with an encouraging nod from Sirius, Harry stepped forward, once again, into Snape's pensieve.

--

Harry found himself outside, with a cool breeze whipping through his hair. He had to blink a few times before he was able to focus on his surroundings. He looked up at the sky—it was cloudy and grey, but it didn't really look like it was going to rain. The air was cool, and the atmosphere seemed so… depressing.

Graveyards were always depressing, though. It was a rather awkward feeling that, technically, this was his funeral he was at. In that coffin… was, honestly, him.

Harry turned his head to the side, staring up at Severus, who was staring intently at the coffin in the center of everyone. Usually Harry could hardly decipher Severus's facial expressions—this seemed to be the only exception. His face was a mixture of grief, devastation and agony, along with others that Harry could hardly describe. He looked as if in a moment he was about to fall apart.

Sirius stood next to Severus, his face just as full of agony that made Harry's heart break once more. It was almost as if Sirius couldn't believe that this was actually real, that it was actually happening.

Harry, ignoring everything that was being spoken and only focusing on Severus and Sirius, tried to place a comforting hand on Severus's arm, but it went right through. Harry pulled his hand back. Immediately, two figures across from him caught his eye.

Ron and Hermione—looking exactly as they did in his original reality. Hermione had her arm over her face, her body shaking with her sobs. Ron had a hand on her shoulder, staring down at the closed coffin with disbelief. His face was deathly white and his eyes were rather wet-looking.

Just as Harry was about to turn around to look at Severus once more, he felt himself being pulled from the memory, and within a second he was standing by Sirius in Severus's study once again.

“Did you see?” Sirius asked softly, trying to catch Harry's eye.

Harry stared down at the ground, nodding. “Yeah. I did. It was… it was….”

There were no words to describe how he felt.

Sirius patted Harry's shoulder with a sad look. “Why don't you go back upstairs and let me finish here? I don't want Snape getting too suspicious.”

Harry nodded silently, opening the door and going past his and Sirius's room to the carpeted stairs. He tried to fix his expression so it wouldn't give him away. When he would look at Severus… there wouldn't be one trace of guilt. He'd just try and make himself look normal.

“Did you have a good time?”

Harry froze as he stared at Severus, his eyes wide. “What do you mean, Severus?”

“Looking at the litter box,” Severus answered, his eyebrows raised. “Did you have a good time? It took you quite long enough.”

“Oh,” Harry replied lamely, nodding his head quickly. “Oh, yes, sure—”

“Well, chaps,” Sirius's loud voice said enthusiastically from behind Harry. “I think I'll be off now. Normy Johnson and a few others are going to try to nominate suggestions for names for the Nameless restaurant, so of course I want to be included. Still Padfoot's Place, isn't it, Harry?”

Harry smiled widely. “Of course.”

Severus sighed, giving his head a shake as he heard the front door slam shut. “I can't quite comprehend what it is with Black and that ridiculous idea of Padfoot's Place.”

Harry sat down in his chair again, sipping on the drink that had been poured for him. He looked up to find Severus staring at him with an expression that Harry couldn't exactly read.

“I'm sorry I asked what I asked last night,” Harry murmured, setting his cup down and purposefully avoided Severus's eye. “I realize it must be a difficult thing to remember.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed with a nod of his head. “It is. I'm surprised you haven't requested the same thing today. Last night it seemed as if you weren't quite so ready to give in.”

“No,” Harry answered quickly. “No… it's fine.” Harry searched his brain quickly for a topic he could use to change the particular subject. With anymore of the talk, Harry felt his guilt might start to be apparent. “So, I forgot Mrs. Hammond gave us a basket of food a while ago.”

“Yes,” Severus said again. “I saw that. Perhaps later today you can get into it before Black ends up consuming the entire thing.” Severus paused, momentarily searching Harry's face. “How are you feeling, Harry? Your homesickness?”

“I wouldn't call it homesickness. I just miss Ron and Hermione, like Sirius said, but I'm fine. I'll be fine.”

“If you'd prefer your original reality,” Severus said slowly, looking unpleased at the thought, “then by all means… I'd rather not keep you here against your will, no matter how much I'd like you to stay.”

“Sirius sort of suggested the same thing,” Harry said. He shook his head. “But I don't want to leave. No matter how much I miss them, I honestly do like it here, and I want to stay.”

Then, trying to show Severus he was not about to change his mind, he gave a firm look, and the conversation ended.

--

Harry laughed weakly. “I'm stuffed, Severus. So stuffed that… I don't feel very good.”

Harry and Severus sat at the table, where the basket Mrs. Hammond had given them sat opened. Sirius hadn't returned yet, so Harry figured that they should at least get into some of it before he came home. Harry rubbed his stomach, making a face.

Severus frowned in concern. “Did you just eat too much?”

“Ugh.” Harry groaned. “I dunno, maybe, but I feel like… like I'm going to….”

It was hard for Harry to finish that sentence without feeling queasy, so he left it out in the open. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to concentrate on something other than the way he was feeling at that moment.

Severus intently studied Harry's face. The boy did look rather green, and he had a tired look about him. He hadn't dealt with a sick child in a long time, Severus realized. Then, Harry began to gag, and Severus could only imagine what would come next.

He tried to pull Harry up off the chair and help him to the upstairs bathroom, although it didn't seem like they would be able to make it in time.

As Harry began to gag again, Severus made a face. Oh, what fun this was going to be.

“Lovebug, I'm home!” Sirius yelled out enthusiastically as he slammed the door shut. Snape absolutely hated it when Sirius jokingly referred to him in some sort of affectionate term such as that, which only made Sirius do it more frequently.

“Sevvy, did you miss me?” Sirius stood in the middle of the foyer with a frown. Where was everyone? The house was deadly quiet, except for a soft meow from Black, who was rubbing up against Sirius's ankle. “Sevvy?” Sirius yelled out, louder, in a more confused tone.

Severus appeared at the top of the staircase, glowering down at Sirius with a frustrated and annoyed look. “Could you quiet down?” he hissed. “Harry is sick and resting and does not need a disturbance from you!” He continued to glare at Sirius. “Did you refer to me as lovebug, Black?”

“I was just kidding,” Sirius said defensively, jogging up the stairs. “Harry's sick? How did he get sick?”

“I assume it was from the basket Mrs. Hammond gave us earlier,” Severus replied. “It couldn't have been that, however, since Harry didn't eat enough to get a stomach ache.”

Severus followed Sirius into Harry's room. The boy lay in bed with the blankets pulled up to his chin. He tried to sleep, though he looked fitful.

“What did Harry eat?” Sirius asked softly.

Severus looked thoughtful as he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, resting the back of his hand against Harry's forehead. He didn't seem to have too much of a fever, which was a good thing.

“The scotch eggs, some bacon, perhaps a biscuit—”

“Wait, did you say the scotch eggs?” Sirius said, his eyes widening. “Harry ate the scotch eggs? After we got that basket… what… four days ago? You know how quickly those things go bad. Alex's anyway, whatever he does to them.”

“Alex's scotch eggs are fine,” Severus said, scowling.

Sirius groaned in frustration. “No one ever orders the scotch egg at that place. As soon as you eat it, it always does something to your stomach—I'm telling you this from experience. You get a stomach ache, although I never did vomit.” Sirius shook his head. “Don't you remember? I told Alex to stop making them after it first happened to me.”

“All right, I remember the incident with you and that scotch egg, but you never told Alex to stop making them.”

“Yes I did,” Sirius argued. “The day after. I went there and I told him that his scotch egg made me sick.”

“You were going to Alex that, but you forgot,” Severus pointed out in annoyance. “Do not argue with me. I know I'm correct.”

Sirius stayed quiet. “Ohhh… that's right… I never did tell Alex that.”

“Sev'rus?” Harry mumbled sleepily, groaning as he turned around to squint at them. “My glasses?”

“Right here,” Severus said softly, adjusting Harry's glasses onto his nose. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Harry murmured. “Did I get sick? I forget. I have a rotten taste in my mouth.”

“You did. Do you feel sick again?”

Harry tried to shake his head, but found it was a horrible idea. “No.”

“You ate the scotch egg, Harry,” Sirius said from the doorway. “The same thing happened to me. I really don't know what they do to that scotch egg, but every time I order it it's always foul.”

Harry yawned. “You kept ordering it?”

“I thought maybe the first time was just… y'know, just a one time thing. Then I ordered it another time I was there and the same thing happened,” Sirius explained.

“Harry,” Severus said in the same soft voice. He swept Harry's bangs off his forehead with his hand. “Just call if you need us. Keep resting.”

“'Kay,” Harry said, turning over on his side again.

Severus quietly left the bedroom with Sirius trailing close behind him. “I'll be just next door to Harry in case he needs me,” Severus said distractedly. “Keep an eye on him if you can.”

Sirius nodded. “Will do, lovebug.”

Severus paused at his doorway, turning his head around to shoot Sirius a dark glare. “You will restrain yourself from referring to me as your lovebug, Black, no matter how much you wish it were true.”

Sirius's mouth fell open. Severus did know what to say when he wanted something to stop, didn't he? Sirius thought, glaring silently at Severus as he walked into the room. Now because of that comment, there was no way he'd ever call him 'lovebug'.

There were, however, other names Sirius could come up with to irritate the potions master….

--

It had been an hour or two that had went by when Severus was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden figure in the doorway. Severus noticed that it was Harry. He looked more pale than he had earlier. His lips had lost their pinkish color.

“I still don't feel good,” came the moan from Harry, who had a blanket across his shoulders and the cup of water in his hands.

“Come sit down,” Severus invited, which Harry gratefully did. “Do you feel sick again? I see you found the water I set on the table in your room for you.”

“A little. I'm just warm and tired, and yes I did, thank you,” Harry answered. He groaned. “I don't like being sick.”

“Nobody does,” Severus said. “Why don't you try getting some more sleep?”

Harry lay his head against the pillow on Severus's bed and took the blanket off his shoulders, placing it across him. Severus took the water from Harry and put it on the nightstand. He didn't answer Severus's question, but instead said, “I didn't like being alone. I was always alone when I was sick—you don't mind if I'm here, do you?”

Severus shook his head. “Not at all.”

Harry mumbled something under his breath, but it was incoherent to Severus. For a second, the Professor had thought that Harry had just called him “Daddy”—but that was probably just wishful thinking.

He said Harry's name softly, but Harry, however, didn't answer. Severus immediately knew that the child beside him was asleep, though Harry had his back to him. Reaching over, Severus turned off the light, drenching the whole room in darkness.

--

Harry felt immensely better the next morning after he woke up, finding himself curled up in Severus's bed with Severus asleep next to him. Had he come in here last night? He must have, though he couldn't exactly remember….

“You're awake.”

Harry jumped at Severus's voice. He turned his head to find the Potions Master wide awake, as if he had been for the longest time.

“So are you. I thought you were still sleeping.”

Severus shook his head. “I was resting my eyes. I've been awake for quite a while now, but I couldn't move considering you fell asleep on my arm, and I figured if I tried to get up I'd wake you, so I waited. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine,” Harry replied. “I have a bit of a sore throat though. Do sore throats come along with bad scotch eggs?”

“Not usually,” Severus murmured. “Here, let me get you something for that.”

Harry waited patiently until Severus returned. He eyed the miniature cup and spoon that Severus had in his hand, and Harry immediately knew what it was. He made a face as he asked, “What's that?” Just to make sure it was what he thought it was.

Severus glanced down. “This? It's medicine, Harry.”

Harry clamped his lips shut as Severus drew closer. He vigorously shook his head as Severus poured the bit of syrupy medicine onto the spoon, and tried to give it to Harry. Harry stubbornly kept his mouth shut tight.

Severus looked annoyed as he poured the medicine that was on the spoon back into the bottle. “I'm not going to try to give this to you forever. This'll help your sore throat.”

Still pinching his lips together, Harry shook his head.

“Don't look as if I'm going to poison you. I'm sure it tastes… quite good.”

Harry relaxed his lips as he repeated, “Quite good? It looks disgusting.”

“Doesn't all medicine? It smells just like grapes, or oranges—some fruit like that anyway. Open your mouth Harry, it's not going to hurt you.”

Harry shook his head, reluctantly parting his lips so he'd be able to say, “I'll only take it if you try it first.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I'm not taking this medicine. I'm not the one who has an upset stomach and a sore throat.”

“I just want to know if it tastes good,” Harry said. “And I don't have an upset stomach anymore. Can't you just… try a little bit?”

“Absolutely not,” Severus said, scowling.

Harry gave his shoulders a shrug. “Then I won't take it if you won't try it first and tell me that it tastes good.” He coughed. “I—I bet you're not going to taste it first because it's disgusting, just like I said it was.”

Severus sat down on the bed, near Harry. He held the spoon near the top of the bottle and slowly tipped it, until just the right amount of the liquid filled the spoon. But Harry still refused to open his mouth.

“Didn't you say that you're supposed to be thirteen?” Severus questioned, agitated. “You're old enough to take medicine without a fuss; instead you're acting like a five-year-old, Harry.”

Harry frowned, glancing down at his hands. “I don't like medicine. One time, when I was younger, Dudley got a hold of all the medicines that the Dursleys had kept for when Dudley was sick with a cold or the flu. He put them in a cup and told me that it was just juice. I only took a sip, but it was horrible.”

“This is only a spoonful, Harry,” Severus said gently. “Wouldn't you rather be rid of this? You're still looking pale.”

Harry was exhausted. His eyes drifted from Severus back down to his hands, which he had suddenly become fascinated with. Maybe if he just showed Severus how much he didn't want to take the medicine, the Potions Master would finally give up and let it be.

Severus let out a long sigh. Harry looked up as he thought that his plan had worked, and that Severus was going to give up.

“Don't look so hopeful,” Severus said. “You said that you wouldn't take this medicine if I didn't try it first, correct?”

“Yes,” Harry said slowly, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Harry watched, amazed, as Severus tipped the spoon up to his lips and took a small amount in. It seemed to take forever for Severus to finally swallow the bit of medicine, and Harry tried to contain his laugh at Severus's sour expression. Harry thought his laugh was going to slip, but instead of a laugh coming out, it was a cough.

“All right,” Severus said, scowling at the taste of the medicine in his mouth. He let out a breath as he tipped the cup to the spoon again. “Open wide.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the medicine in his mouth, but couldn't quite seem to swallow it. It wasn't that he wouldn't, but he felt something in his stomach. Something making his stomach churn more than usual.

Harry's eyes widened as he tore the blankets off him and ran down the corridor. Severus set the medicine and spoon on the nightstand and stepped out of the bedroom to see Sirius coming up the stairs.

“Do you want me to get Harry a drink?” Sirius questioned, and then made a face. “To get the, uh, taste out of his mouth.”

“Water will be fine.”

Harry emerged from the bathroom, looking pale and shaky with a disgusted look on his face. Severus helped him back into the bedroom, where he climbed back into bed and closed his eyes.

“Sorry, I don't know why that happened, my stomach wasn't feeling sick.”

“We'll try the medicine again after, then,” Severus said. His tone suddenly became thoughtful. “Perhaps it wasn't the scotch egg that upset your stomach, Harry. It's possible you were ill in the first place.”

“Could be it,” Harry answered with a yawn following. He buried himself deeper into the blankets, saying something else, although Severus couldn't comprehend it since the boys' voice was muffled by his pillow. After that, everything went black.

--

When Harry awoke again, he saw that Severus had pulled up a chair near the bed, and had fallen asleep in it.

Harry used his elbows to help prop himself up. His stomach wasn't as upset as it had been, his throat wasn't scratchy and sore anymore, but he still wasn't quite sure if he was still warm.

He grinned at the person in the doorway before reaching over to get the cup of water beside him to take a sip. The water was warm, which caused Harry to make a face as it went down.

“Can I get you anything?” Sirius asked, his voice soft and hushed. He must've seen the sleeping Severus by Harry's bed.

“No, thanks.”

“How're you feeling now?” Sirius drew closer, and now stood by Severus.

“Much better,” Harry answered honestly, taking another sip of the water. He then noticed what Sirius had opened and now held in his hands. “I don't need that medicine anymore. My throat doesn't hurt and my stomach doesn't, either.”

“It seems as though Harry being sick doesn't interfere with his ability to talk,” Severus said, and Harry wondered how long he had been awake for.

Sirius, who was trying to put the cover back on the medicine bottle, frowned. His frown became more pronounced as he still didn't have any luck with the cover—although, whether he was frowning at the medicine bottle or Severus's comment, Harry wasn't sure.

“What's—urgghhh—wrong with talking?” Sirius asked, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he handed the bottle and the cap over to Severus. Sirius rubbed his hands, which looked red, together.

Severus gave Sirius an impatient look as he took the cap and placed it on the bottle, twisting it until it was firmly attached. Then he handed the bottle back to Sirius.

“There is nothing wrong with talking—not insistently, however; then it just becomes annoying. When a person is sick they are required to rest, not babble.”

Sirius hesitated suddenly, as he looked at the medicine bottle in his hands. For some reason that was unbeknownst to Harry, he began to try to take the cap back off again, saying, “All right I—urgh—agree that when a person's sick they should be resting, but hey, if they feel like talking a little then I'm not stopping them.”

Severus stared at Sirius, and at first Harry thought that it was merely because of what Sirius had said, but then he realized that the Professor was staring at Sirius because he was trying to take the cap off the bottle, after Severus had just put it on.

“Black, what on earth are you doing?” Severus frowned.

Sirius, his head bent as he tried to twist the cap off, lifted his head to give Severus a sheepish smile. “I forgot that the bottle was empty,” he started slowly, “and I was going to wash it out, but I can't get this… stupid… thing off!”

Severus was quiet for a moment, watching as Sirius forgot all about the bottle and began to nurse his stinging hand.

“Why in Merlin's name would you wash out a bottle that you're going to throw out anyway?”

Sirius looked back down at the bottle again, picking it up. A grin flickered across his face as he slowly backed out of the room. “Right—I'll just go get rid of this now, then.”

Severus shook his head as Sirius exited the room, and then turned back towards Harry, who was watching the scene drowsily albeit in amusement. Severus pushed the chair back and stood up. He frowned as he noticed that Harry was staring at him oddly.

“What is it?” Severus asked with a frown.

“I thought you would've left when I fell asleep,” Harry started, though he had to stop there since he couldn't think of anything else to add to that. What was he even trying to say in the first place?

Severus stared at Harry quietly for a moment or two before one simple word escaped his lips. “No.”

--

“He's feeling better?” Sirius said as he stepped into the foyer to find Severus coming down the staircase.

“I think so,” Severus replied. He stopped on one step, staring down at Sirius with a dark look.

“W—what?” Sirius asked nervously, becoming uncomfortable underneath Severus's angry gaze. He frowned.

“I know you showed Harry that funeral,” he growled, scowling. “How dare you—after you knew I said no!”

“How dare I?” Sirius repeated in disbelief. “He has a right! It was his funeral, and he wanted to!”

“You're forgetting it's not him. He's Harry Potter, Black, at least his mind still is, no matter if the body says differently.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Does that bother you? Harry Potter, son of your enemy? That only physically he's a Snape, and you know it?”

Severus looked beyond angry. “I cannot believe you even suggested such a ridiculous thing! It's unthinkable—I'd love that boy even if he was a… Black, no matter how much I dispise you.”

“Like him being my son would be such a bad thing!” Sirius spat.

“I'd pity the child!”

Sirius snorted. “I raised Harry just as much as you did! Even if he's not my son biologically he's still like my son just as much as he's your son.”

Severus stepped down the remaining stairs until he stood directly in front of Sirius.

“Again, Black, you're forgetting that we didn't raise this Harry. We didn't. Really, we don't even know this boy.”

Sirius quieted, nodding after a moments delay. “Then let's start knowing him.”

Severus's voice grew just as quiet. “At last, something we agree upon. Another thing—no more comparing our two Harry's.”

Sirius's brow furrowed. “Comparing? I'm not comparing.”

Severus took a step back from Sirius, giving him a look of disbelief. “Hypothetically, what would you honestly say if this Harry told you that he didn't like peanut butter sandwhiches?”

Sirius's eyebrows rose in surprise. “I'd say that's weird, considering our old Harry loved peanut butter sandwhiches—” Sirius cut himself off, a look of understanding crossed his face. “Oh. I see.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“You're right,” Sirius said softly. “We don't know this Harry at all. What's his favorite color? Favorite food? Does he find you cold, rude and nasty? Does he find me unbelievably nice and charming?”

Severus made a face. “I am not cold, rude or nasty, Black, and as for you being nice and charming… that's something to laugh at. I'd be unbelievably concerned if Harry thought so, as well as unbelievably amused if he agreed with you merely to be polite.”

“I was only joking,” Sirius said defensively. “You really hurt me with that comment. You really don't think I'm nice and charming? 'Cause you know I always think you are, smoochypoo. You know, you really ought to smile once in a while, it brings out those dimples.”

Severus scowled, retreating up the staircase. Perhaps Harry needed company again… anything to get away from Black.

“I do not have dimples, Black.”

“True, but I imagine that you do because it makes you more—”

“What was that Elizabeth was saying about you being a bender?” Severus questioned loudly, drowning out Sirius's voice. “I'm sure I heard you say otherwise? The straightest? How disappointing it will be for her when she finds out she was right in the first place. And being the gossip of the town as well….”

Sirius clamped his mouth shut and glared.

--

Severus returned to Harry's room to find the boy leaning over the side of his bed with a wand in his hand. He heard the boy murmur “Lumos”, creating light that the kitten seemed fascinated with. Then, slowly, the light faded away, and Harry grinned as the black kitten insisted on batting the wand with his paw. When he heard Severus at the doorway, he sat up and straightened his posture, his face draining of all color.

“I'm sorry!” Harry burst out, glancing down at the wand in his hand. “I saw it laying on the dresser and I know I shouldn't have touched it! I'm sorry.”

Severus scowled, leaning against the doorframe. “Nonsense, it's your wand. If you wish to use it to play with your cat then by all means, go ahead.”

Harry set the wand on the bed beside his pillow. “You and Sirius were awful loud,” he commented. “Do you argue with each other a lot?”

“Often enough,” Severus said. “Did you hear all that was said?”

Harry shook his head. “Only… being physically something, pitying a child and a peanut butter sandwhich.”

Severus regarded Harry silently, before saying, “Do you like peanut butter sandwhiches?”

“Y—yeah, I think so.”

“What about broccoli? Or your favorite color?”

Harry looked puzzled. “One minute you're talking about food and now you're talking about colors?”

Severus sighed, and in one swift motion he was sitting back in the chair. “I realized that I don't know you,” Severus stated firmly. “And I'd like to.”

Harry stared as he, too, realized the same thing.

“We've established that you like peanut butter sandwhiches,” Severus started uncertainly.

Harry shifted his position. “Uh-huh. Severus, I have one condition. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Severus raised his eyebrows, looking amused. “What questions, pray, do you have?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. Do you like peanut butter sandwhiches? What's your favorite color? That kind of stuff, I guess.”

“All right,” Severus agreed slowly. He sat back in the chair, folding his hands, and looked at Harry. “Ask away.”

Harry squirmed under the covers, trying to get comfy. He decided to put his pillow against the backboard of the bed as a cushion for his back, and leaned against it. “Should Sirius be here while you question me?” Harry asked.

“No, Black can have his own time interrogating you,” Severus answered. “This shall be my time.”

“Okay,” Harry concurred. “Will I start?”

“Please do.”

Harry paused for a minute, trying to come up with a good question to ask. Finally, all he came up with was, “Do you like peanut butter sandwhiches?”

“No,” came the instant reply. “I do not care for peanut butter. It gets stuck to the roof of your mouth and the smell is unbearable.”

Harry laughed. “Okay, your turn.”

Severus regarded Harry thoughtfully. “What is your favorite color?”

“I don't really know,” said Harry slowly. Musingly. “I like blue… but… I honestly think green.”

“Green?” Severus repeated.

Harry nodded. “Green. An emerald green, because that was the color of my mothers eyes, wasn't it? And mine.”

“It was,” Severus murmured.

“What about you?” Harry continued cheerfully. “Is your favorite color black?”

Severus smirked. “No, Mr Snape, although black happens to be one of my well-liked colors, it is not my favorite. My favorite, I have to say, would be… green. An emerald green.”

Harry smiled warmly as Severus had called him 'Mr Snape' without mistaking him. Severus's words had grown softer as he finished.

“It seems as though we already have something in common.”

“It seems we do,” Severus said. He quieted, and then said, “My turn, is it? What is … your favorite subject in school?”

Harry made a face as he thought. “Well, Transfiguration and History of Magic are rather boring. DADA—oh, well last year with Lock—” Harry froze, saying the words over again in his head. He looked confused. “I mean… this year…” he shook his head. “Anyway, I think if I was good at it, and you weren't such a horrible teacher, that subject could be Potions.”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “My, my—me, a horrible teacher?”

Harry began to grin. “Honestly. People are scared of you. You're bitter and—and heartless and mean. You could make a first-year cry. In fact, I'm positive that must have happened already.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy playfully. “Well, well, well, you little brat. Here, I may be strict on my students, but I'd hardly consider myself heartless. Perhaps having you has softened me.”

“We'll just have to see about that,” Harry said, the grin still stuck on his face.

“Indeed we shall.” There was still a playful tinge in Severus's voice.

“Maybe I should write a book about this,” Harry said out loud. “About the different sides of Severus Snape. We could begin with your childhood… and then how you were as a teenager, and then as an adult, and then being a father.” Harry paused, collecting his thoughts. “Did you ever get… mean? Meaner than you might have been?”

Harry couldn't believed he asked, but there it was.

“I began to get…”—Severus frowned at the next word—“…mean when I met James Potter and his lovely friends. Black included. An arrogant prat, and he always fancied your mother.” Severus began to look smug. “She, however, always preferred me over him.” He cleared his throat, correcting himself as he said, “Them.”

“Them?” Harry repeated, frowning.

“Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew constantly tried to get Lily to befriend them. She didn't mind Lupin and Pettigrew, but she couldn't stand Black and Potter. I, for one, couldn't stand any of them.”

“Why?” Harry asked softly.

“I suppose you could call Potter and Black bullies, whilst Lupin stood by and acted as if nothing was going on. Pettigrew… the odious fool, would go along with whatever Potter and Black did.”

Pettigrew's name was spoken in disgust.

Harry wondered if this was the same back in his old reality, of it was completely different. It would have been a good reason as to why Snape dispised him so, because of his… well, because of James. Harry noticed that Severus made a face at something, and almost began to fidget in his chair.

“Is something wrong?” Harry frowned.

“Hm? Oh, well, merely that this is not the most comfortable chair ever produced.”

It didn't look comfy either, considering it had no cushioning to it. It was just made entirely of wood.

“Here,” Harry started. He picked up the wand and moved over to the right, creating another space next to him for Severus. He placed the wand on the pillow opposite of where it used to be. “This has to be more comfy than the chair.”

Then, picking up another pillow that he was not using as a backrest, he placed it next to that pillow so Severus had a backrest as well. Severus looked surprised, but got up and sat down next to Harry anyway.

“Continue,” Harry urged. “When did you start dating my mum?”

“Fifth year,” Severus answered automatically. “By that time Lily had managed to befriend Black, and still despised Potter. It was sometime during fifth year that I almost ruined our entire relationship.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “How, exactly?”

Severus let out a sigh before he continued speaking. As he spoke, it looked like he was having difficulty getting all of his words out. “Potter and Black had humiliated… me, and I took my anger for them out on Lily. It was absurd of me. I nearly lost Lily, but after a great deal of apologizing she ultimately forgave me, which I was undoubtedly relieved over.”

Harry stayed silent, allowing Severus to carry on.

“During our sixth year Lily apparently found out about a joke that they planned pulling on me. Black was leading me down through the Whomping Willow—evidently, Lily had followed, and stopped me from going through. Lupin was in there….” Severus trailed off softly, a scowl appearing on his face at the memory.

Harry covered his mouth as he coughed. “Lupin? What d'you mean?”

“Nevermind,” Severus replied, looking distracted. “Lily began to not take to the company I kept, either, or the Dark Arts that I began to become fascinated with.”

Harry stared silently at Severus, his eyes growing larger. The Dark Arts? Severus continued, and Harry listened intently.

“She ended up withdrawing me from them at the time. I would've done anything for her. Thus, I was with Lily all the way up until graduation, and then…”

Harry frowned. “And then?”

Severus glanced sideways at Harry. “I married her.” His expression began to darken. “It was after we were married that I became a Death Eater.” At Harry's look, Severus elaborated. “A follower of Voldemort.”

Harry's eyes widened. “O—oh, right, I remember you mentioning that you were a Death Eater one time.”

“It was a foolish, inane thing. I wanted to spy for Dumbledore; to be of use… I didn't tell Lily. I should have. I didn't think of Lily when I…, I can hardly describe it. I'd never seen her that angry before, when she found out. We were on the brink of divorce subsequently… but divorce was the precise way to go. I couldn't still be married to Lily whilst simultaneously being a spy. It would've put her in danger.”

“So what did you do?” Harry asked quietly.

“We divorced.”

“And then?” Harry prompted.

“She re-married.”

Harry's mouth fell open. “So fast? To who?”

“It was awhile later, and to James Potter—in 1979. She claimed he had changed, which may have been true, but I was in no hurry to find out.”

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. “What about me? Am I still your… your son? I have to be….”

“Oh, yes,” Severus said lightly. Harry turned his head to look up at the Potions Master, and he noticed there was a light, faint pink to his cheeks, but it was only noticeable because Severus was so pale. “There was one instance where, a month after Lily and Potter's wedding—” Severus stopped speaking, suddenly aware of where he was heading. He decided to forget he even began to say that in the first place. “Then, a while later, Lily found out she's pregnant with you. The joy that must have been celebrated in the Potter house that night….”

“They didn't know I was yours?”

“Perhaps Lily knew deep down,” Severus mused. “Black seemed to have a suspicion. When he confronted her, he gave her an ultimatum: either she tells Potter, or he does.”

“What did she choose?”

“Before you were born, she told him that she had a feeling that the baby was really mine.”

“How did he take it?” Harry asked curiously.

“I assume in the end they worked things out, considering that they still planned to stay together.” Severus's lip curled in disgust. “That's what irked me the most… though in all honesty, I was hardly surprised.”

“That she still wanted to be with him?”

Severus looked down upon Harry, nodding his head. “Precisely. It seemed nobody except for Lily, Potter, Black and myself knew of the secret that was being kept about your parentage.”

“What happened next?”

Severus let out a long, shuddering breath, which took Harry by surprise. He looked tormented by what he was going to say next.

The words were spoken softly; lifelessly.

“I killed Lily.”

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes growing wide. He killed Lily? How?

“How?” Harry whispered, voicing his thoughts, although he was scared of the answer.

Severus let out another breath. “I was beyond angry at… everything. I had lost everything. I knew of Voldemort's plans. I didn't do anything about it. It was the last second when I finally came to my senses, however I was too late when I reached the house. I watched you conquer Voldemort.”

A pained look crossed Harry's face, and Severus gave the boy a sad look before he let out a bitter laugh. “You looked exactly like a miniature Potter. You see, I hardly even knew you were born. Lily didn't try to contact me about it. You were a year old. One year old. You existed in this world for one year and I never knew—I was lucky enough to even know about Lily's pregnancy. I was lucky enough for her to even admit there was a chance that the child was mine.

“You had a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on your forehead. I knew Voldemort must have done that, so I took you back to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, and I figured that Lily put a charm on you to make you look like Potter. She was excellent at charms. I ended up reversing that charm…”

“And here I am,” Harry finished. “I think I would've liked growing up here with you. With Sirius,” he added. “I just… hate that I don't have this-Harry's memories.”

Severus gave his head a small shake as he looked at Harry. “We can make our own,” he said softly. “You hardly need them, Harry.”

Harry smiled, relaxing against Severus's arm. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Severus answered, though he sounded like he didn't know what he was being thanked for. They fell into silence.

“You know you really didn't kill Mum,” Harry said after a while, faltering.

“I've made a lot of mistakes in my past,” Severus admitted, sounding distant. He stared silently into nothing in front of him, most likely lost in thought. Harry stayed quiet as well, unable to think of anything to say.

Severus was the first one to break the silence. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “So you say you're inadequate at Potions? Is that true?”

Harry was rather disappointed that he didn't have more time to let what Severus had said to him sink in, but he realized that Severus really didn't want to think about it anymore. So, with a nod of his head, Harry said, “Very, very inadequate. I'm horrible when it comes to Potions.”

“Perhaps for the rest of the summer on some days I could help you,” Severus suggested slowly, starting to lift himself up off the bed.

“Really? You'd put up with trying to help me? No matter if I end up still being rubbish and you've wasted all this time?”

Severus straightened his robes. “I hardly call it wasting my time, even if you do, in the end, remain rubbish.”

“A—all right,” Harry agreed, sitting up a little straighter. “When do you feel like starting? And where?”

Severus looked surprise at Harry's eagerness. “Well, I can see you're feeling much better now, so we'll begin when you see fit. As for where, in my study I have a door that leads to my lab. I'm surprised on your last visit you didn't see it.”

Color drained from Harry's cheeks as he tried not to look guilty. He gave a little cough, trying to keep eye contact with the Professor. “W—what do you mean? My last visit?”

“Oh, you know,” Severus said lightly, as if it were nothing. “When you went into my Pensieve for the second time, where Black put in the memory of the funeral. Without my permission, might I add.”

Harry's mouth fell open, staring at Severus in disbelief. He knew? All this time and he knew? Harry's cheeks began to burn brightly in embarrassment at being caught.

Severus frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “Why did you disobey me? What made you want to see that funeral so badly?”

Harry finally looked away. “I'm sorry for disobeying you, honestly! Severus, you already know why I wanted to see it anyway. It's too difficult for me to actually explain.”

Severus shook his head. “I suppose I shouldn't get too angry with you, considering that you were in the presence of Black, as well as it was his doing. However, I am warning you to never disobey me. You'll find that you won't overly like the consequences.”

Harry pressed his lips together, the message coming quite clear to him. He nodded, relaxing his lips again to ask, “Where are you going?” as Severus made his way over to the door.

Upon hearing Harry's question, Severus turned around to look at Harry as he spoke.

“I assume it's nearing the lunch hour, and if you are regaining your appetite I shall get Nome to make us something to eat. Black, too, has been downstairs rather quietly for quite some time and I'm afraid without frequent checkups he could unintentionally be capable of somehow burning down this entire house. Then, when I return, you are going to tell me your story.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “My story? I have a story?”

“Child,” Severus started, sighing, “every human being has a story. You have heard mine, and now I would like to hear yours.”

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip. “Sure. All right.”

“Do you have an appetite?”

“Maybe just some soup please. Noodles and crackers?”

“Very well.”

As Severus exited, Harry leaned against he pillow and closed his eyes. His story? Severus wanted to hear his story? About how he was neglected by his Aunt and Uncle, abused by his cousin and then saved by Hagrid?

Harry now took this silent opportunity to reply Severus's 'story' in his mind. So, in a way, his Mum and—well, not Dad, here. He could refer to him as Dad, Harry supposed, but then he decided to settle with just… James. So his Mum and James had gotten together, much like in the other reality. And a charm, to make him look like James? If the charm hadn't been taken off, then would he look like he had in his other reality?

Harry's thoughts were disturbed as Severus re-entered the room. Harry patted the place next to him to remind Severus of where he had been sitting before he left.

“One more question,” Harry said as Severus sat back down. “Are you still a Death Eater?”

Severus winced, taking his time to reply.

“Yes.”

“You're feeling guilty about Voldemort killing Mum while you knew?”

“Yes.” Severus examined Harry closely. “You don't refer to him as You-Know-Who? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Perhaps the Dark Lord?” Harry frowned, shaking his head no, and Severus continued with, “Hm. I do wish you would, actually.”

The statement caught Harry off-guard. He nodded in agreement. “All right—but I'm not done asking you questions.”

“I believe you said 'one more question', and now you're turning it into 'seventeen more questions.'” Severus scowled. “No more stalling.”

“Wait, wait!” Harry said hastily. “Honestly, one more question. What was my name before it became Harry Severus Snape? I have a feeling it wasn't that before.”

“Indeed, you're right,” Severus answered curtly. “It was the same as you claimed it was when you first… arrived here. Harry James Potter. Now, that was your last question. Begin.”

“Ah….” Harry stared down, trying to find a place to start. “My Mum and J—James were—”

“One moment,” Severus interrupted, looking slightly confused. “James? Not 'Dad' or 'Father'?”

“I'm not really sure who I should be calling Dad at the moment,” Harry replied, and then cleared his throat. “Anyway, they were murdered by Y—You-Know-Who when I was a baby. I had the same lightning bolt scar, same green eyes, and I wore glasses there, too. I grew up with my Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and cousin Dudley—”

“And how well did they treat you?” interrupted Severus curiously.

Harry shrugged. Was there any point in lying? “They didn't really like me. I was what they would call a freak. I did the cleaning, the cooking, the gardening… I was even Dudley's own personal punching bag. And then, on my eleventh birthday, Hagrid came to rescue me because they insisted on not giving me my Hogwarts letter.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you informing me of that quite a while ago,” Severus murmured. “Hagrid, you say?” He seemed to not like that fact. “I wonder why I didn't do it? I suppose, if I am as heartless there as you say I am, it comes as no surprise.”

“You hate me,” Harry pointed out. “That you… well, that you goes beyond hating me. He loathes me.”

“Shall I guess that the reason is because of Potter being your father there?”

“It's most likely,” Harry answered honestly.

“I thought so,” Severus muttered. He put his head back against the pillow behind him, and not long afterwards Harry did the same.

“I got sorted into Gryffindor,” Harry continued softly. “I made friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The same thing with the Philosophers Stone happened. Then, second year—” Harry hesitated. Should he say anything about second year? It wouldn't mess anything up, would it? It's not like it would change history or anything like that….

Harry coughed. “Well, let's just say I'll know how to handle myself pretty well this year. I don't want to get into anything about it just yet.” He paused. “Severus,” he started again, uncertainly. He sighed, unsure of what to say. He wasn't becoming fond of the silence that they were slipping into, since he felt that it would be uncomfortable if they both just lay beside each other on the bed, staring into space and saying nothing. Then again, maybe silence was needed for the memories that had been brought back up.

Harry suddenly crinkled his nose, making a face at the distant smell. It seemed to be coming from downstairs.

“What's burning?” Harry asked, his nose still crinkled.

Severus frowned. “Burning?”

Harry nodded. Severus remained still as he tried to detect the smell that Harry pointed out. He suddenly seemed to be able to smell it too, because he then proceeded to let out a loud, aggravated sigh.

“Did I not tell you that Black would somehow manage to burn this entire house down?” Severus said furiously, and in a few, quick strides he was out the door.

Harry hastily tried to follow. He could already hear Severus's footsteps on the stairs, and he was barely even out the door.

“Maybe it's not Sirius!” Harry yelled after him, but he doubted that. Who else could it be? Nome? No… or perhaps the smell was even coming from outside.

“Black!” Severus was already past the foyer, and he was now headed for the kitchens. “What in Merlin's name are you doing?”

Faintly, Harry heard, “I'm sorry for trying to be a help!”

Harry quickened his pace until he was now right behind Severus, who snorted. “A help. Black, what have you done?”

“Nome insisted that help was not needed,” Nome spoke up. “Nome did, Master Snape, but Nome was ignored.”

“Nome wasn't ignored!” Sirius persisted, but Severus interrupted before he could continue any further.

“I am not surprised.” Severus glared at Sirius. “You burnt the food?”

Sirius shrugged sheepishly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't think I'm too good of a cook.”

“My, my, you don't say? What did you manage to burn? Harry's soup?”

Severus meant that sarcastically, but Sirius's face reddened.

“I forgot to add the water,” he mumbled. “And I tried making a grilled cheese sandwhich for myself, but I ended up burning that. You see, for the cooker, the dial is to turn the heat on, and I thought you turned it to the very top… apparently you don't.”

“Wow, I'm even a loads better cook than you are,” Harry said teasingly, trying to hide a grin. “Couldn't you use magic for that?”

“I wanted to try it the muggle way—”

“Black,” Severus began, trying to hold back an exasperated sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly closing his eyes. “Would you, without another word, leave this kitchen? If you failed to realize that I am, indeed, angry with you over going into my study, as well as into my Pensieve—”

“You're angry with me? I thought you kind of… got over it. I mean, I thought we were okay.” Sirius looked embarrassed that he couldn't think of any other to put or describe it.

It seemed to make Severus even angrier. “You thought I got over it? After I said no, you went into my things to show Harry what I clearly didn't want him to see—”

“But—”

Severus's eyes flashed. He took a threatening step towards Sirius. “Never interrupt me, Black.”

“I don't appreciate being interrupted, either!” Sirius yelled. “Look, let's both not interrupt each other. I'm sorry for showing Harry that when you, for some reason, didn't want him to see.”

“An apology is not going to cut it, Black. No matter how thrilling you may find it to disobey Snape, it is hardly thrilling for me,” Severus growled.

Sirius bit his lip, asking in a quiet voice, “So does this mean I'm sleeping on the couch, smoochypoo?”

Severus let out a yell of anger, startling Harry, who stood quietly behind the Professor. “This is not a joke, Black! I am absolutely and completely tired of your unnecessary jokes! I suggest you get out of my sight before I hex you all the way into Harry's reality.”

Sirius frowned. “I don't think hexing's the way to go on that one, Snape—”

“Better yet,” Severus interrupted loudly, “I'll leave!”

Whirling around, Severus's robes almost hit Harry has he exited the kitchens. Harry stumbled back, looking up at Sirius silently.

Sirius suddenly looked exhausted as he sighed.

“I messed up,” he said, looking back at Harry helplessly. “I shouldn't have done that without permission from Snape, and I have to stop making jokes when they aren't necessary….”

Harry only stared back, just as helplessly, since he couldn't think of anything helpful or encouraging to say.

The next day was… uncomfortable. The whole entire house seemed completely drenched with residue of anger. Sirius and Severus still weren't talking to each other, Harry felt a little put in the middle, and Sirius was acting rather strangely.

“Snape,” Sirius said curtly during breakfast, “please pass the plate of flapjacks.”

Purposely avoiding Sirius's eye, Severus picked up the plate and rudely thrust it towards Sirius, who snatched it while avoiding Severus's eye, as well.

“You know, Harry,” Sirius said loudly, putting a generous amount of flapjacks onto his plate, “I honestly have no idea why Snape's angry with me. We were practically fine until I burnt the food, and then suddenly he's completely furious over the Pensieve thing…”

Harry thought desperately for something to say, and opened his mouth to speak when Severus suddenly addressed Harry just as loudly, so he quickly closed his mouth shut.

“If it isn't palpable with Black— as I'm not surprised it is—the burning of the food was the last straw.”

Sirius's mouth fell open, staring at Harry. “Did Snape insinuate that I'm thick?”

Severus snorted into his teacup as he took a sip, but said nothing.

“Are you two ever going to talk to each other again?” Harry asked quietly. He barely touched his breakfast. It seemed that Sirius and Severus's bickering made Harry lose his appetite.

“That's hardly likely!” Sirius said, putting a cut up piece of a flapjack into his mouth.

Harry looked over at Severus desperately. “But you guys live together. Wouldn't it be loads better if you tried getting along again?”

“Black and I never got along,” Severus said briefly, taking another sip.

“I find that hard to believe. It seems you may not be the best of friends but… close friends, at least,” Harry tried hopefully. “You two raised… Harry… together, you live together, so you couldn't have achieved that without, maybe, a little respect for each other?”

“I'm not moving out!” Sirius exclaimed suddenly, finally staring at Severus. “I helped pay for this house!”

Severus stared back coldly. “No one said that you were.”

The words were spoken so harshly, so coldly, that even Harry remained quiet for a while. Sirius seemed to fade back into his strange, austere attitude.

“What are you doing today Sirius?” Harry asked cheerfully, trying to overcome the awkward, uncomfortable silence that enveloped them again.

“I think I'll go out for a while,” Sirius said tersely. “There's a jolly good game of golf commencing around noon hour, so I thought I'd make a show.”

Severus nearly choked on his tea. Harry looked over at the Potions master worriedly, wondering if he was okay. Severus set the teacup on the table, coughing briefly and saying in an unusual voice, “Excuse me.”

Harry looked back at Sirius, who was scowling. Had Severus noticed the way Sirius began to talk, too? 'Jolly good', 'commencing'… golf? Golf certainly wasn't a game Sirius would take interest in… was it? By Severus's reaction, Harry didn't think so.

“You play golf?” Harry hoped he sounded casual.

Sirius gave his head a short nod, trying daintily to pick his own cup up and take an equally dainty sip. “Indeed. I took it up not too long ago. Very relaxing. Tranquil… serene…” Sirius trailed off, obviously searching for another word to describe it.

“Peaceful?” Severus suddenly spoke up, his eyebrows raised.

Sirius scowled again, raising his cup to his lips. When he set the cup back onto the table, he spoke again.

“No. I was finished.”

Severus didn't look convinced, but he didn't bother saying anything.

“What about you Harry, old chap? Anything utterly enchanting planned?” Sirius' enthusiastic, strange attitude returned.

Harry stared blankly at his godfather. “W—what?”

“I believe Harry and I have plans today,” Severus said, causing Sirius to scowl once more. “I am to tutor, if you will, Harry in Potions.”

“Harry, chap, wouldn't a nice, clean game of golf be so much more refreshing than a Potions lesson?” Sirius scoffed. “What do you say?”

“Erm…” Harry faltered, staring down at his plate as his cheeks turned pink. What could he say? He didn't want to hurt Sirius's feelings, since he'd much rather do Potions than play golf.

He looked up at Sirius, trying to begin again. “You see, Sirius, I really need to do good in Potions. I'm completely lousy at it—it's my worst subject—and now that I have this opportunity to try and maybe get a little better, I think I might take it.”

Harry thought he handled it a bit well, but Sirius still looked hurt, so he quickly added, “You want me to do good in school, don't you, Sirius?”

“Of course, of course,” Sirius said, waving his hand distractedly. He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Well, I suppose I'll go and get a head start. Goodday.”

Both Severus and Harry silently watched as Sirius left, and only Harry decided to speak when he heard the door slam shut. He turned around in his chair to look at Severus in amazement.

“What's going on with Sirius?”

Severus gave his head a shake, clearly trying to make it look as if he could care less, although Harry had a feeling that Severus was wondering the exact same thing.

A thought suddenly struck Harry. What if Sirius was acting this way because of the fight he and Severus had the day before? Harry remembered that Severus had said something about Sirius joking in times when jokes weren't necessary…. Was Sirius trying to prove something?

“What's on your mind?” Severus asked as he studied Harry. “You look thoughtful.”

“I was just thinking about Sirius,” Harry began slowly. He took his fork and absently played with some of the food on his plate. “Maybe he just wants to prove that… that he can be serious—and I'm not talking about his name—instead of making jokes when they aren't necessary. Like you pointed out yesterday.”

Severus looked annoyed, and the look he gave Harry proved it. “If I had known he was going to do something like this, I would've refrained from saying anything in the first place.” Severus cleared his throat, which was usually always a sign that he was about to change the conversation topic. “You're feeling better today, Harry?”

“Oh yeah.” Harry nodded his head enthusiastically. “I'm feeling loads better, thanks. So today, you're really going to help me with Potions?”

“I said I would,” Severus reminded the boy.

“Can we go now?”

Severus eyed Harry's untouched plate of food briefly. “You are not going to eat your breakfast? I thought you just got through telling me that you're feeling 'loads' better.”

Harry turned red. “I guess I'm just not very hungry right now.”

“You will eat half of what's on your plate before we go down to the labs,” Severus bargained. “You've barely touched anything.”

“All right, all right,” Harry agreed, and for the rest of their breakfast, Harry and Severus ate in silence, only causing Harry's thoughts to increase, so he was thinking of different things simultaneously. Two thoughts of his that really stood out were the following: Where was Hedwig and his luggage, along with his wand, that was left behind in his reality? What had happened to them? Especially Hedwig—Harry desperately missed his owl, and he hoped that somehow she was safe. The other thought was whether if Dumbledore, and maybe even Ron and Hermione, were concerned with his not returning?

Maybe on the way down to Severus's lab would Harry voice his thoughts, as well as ask more questions if they came to mind…

--

After Harry and Severus were through with their breakfast, Severus began to lead Harry down the steps that lead to Sirius and Harry's room, along with Severus's study. Harry felt that this was his opportune moment to talk to Severus.

“I was wondering,” Harry started, his voice the only other sound along with their footsteps on the carpeted stairs, “if… well, I want to know what happened to Hedwig and the rest of my stuff, and if Dumbledore's worried with me not returning to my original reality and—there's no way I can tell, is there?”

Severus briefly glanced back at Harry over his shoulder, with confusion in his voice as he spoke. “Hedwig?”

“My owl,” Harry elaborated. They passed Harry and Sirius's room, walking further until they reached the door to Severus's study. Harry began to feel guilty again as he stepped into the study, realizing again that Severus was mad at Sirius for bringing Harry down into this room to show him the funeral.

“Ah, your owl… I'm afraid that I know of no way to get in contact with anybody in your other reality.” Severus sounded apologetic. “There's also no way of knowing whether your Dumbledore is concerned or not over your lack of reappearing in that reality.”

“I figured as much,” Harry muttered. He watched as Severus turned to the back wall, pulling on a handle in the wall that opened a door. Harry was surprised, since it looked as if there was no door there in the first place, but merely just part of the wall.

As Harry walked into Severus's lab, he was immensely surprised to find that it was rather spacious. He'd expected it to be somewhat small. Along the walls were vials of potions already made, along with jars of things that were needed in Potions.

He felt goosebumps rise upon his arms. Harry hadn't realized how cold it was in here, much like in the dungeons back at Hogwarts. Severus seemed to notice Harry's involuntary shiver.

“The reason it's chilly in here is because we are in the basement,” Severus pointed out. He walked towards the desk near the back of the room, where a single cauldron sat. “Now, is there any potion you would like to start off with?”

Harry sighed as he wracked his brain. “Well… erm… there's the, uh, Boil Cure Potion, I suppose, that's the only one that really comes to mind right now.”

“Very well. The Boil Cure Potion… for that I would like you to get dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, stewed horned slugs and porcupine quills.” Severus glanced up at Harry distractedly as he prepared the cauldron. “The ingredients are on the right side of the room. The potions I have already created are on the left side.”

Harry walked over to the ingredients, his eyes roaming over each jar as he read the label on the front. Where were the ones he needed—and what were they again? The only thing Harry remembered was the porcupine quills.

Severus looked up at Harry again, noticing that the boy seemed to be having problems.

“They're alphabetized,” Severus said.

Harry looked back over his shoulder. “Can you tell me all the things I need again? Slowly?”

“Dried nettles,” Severus repeated, purposely drawing the words out slowly.

Harry skimmed over the jars, silently reading each one in his head. Asphodel… black beetle eyes… caterpillars… dried nettles! Harry quickly picked up the jar and held onto it tightly.

“Next one?”

“Snake fangs. You'll find that in the 'C's' for crushed.”

Harry's eyes immediately focused on the exact jar, so with his free hand he picked that one up and placed both jars on the nearest desk.

“All right, next one.”

“I believe it was the horned slugs.”

“And the last one was the porcupine quills, correct?”

“Correct,” Severus concurred as he assisted Harry in bringing the jars over to the cauldron. Harry placed the jars before him, surveying each one carefully. “This is an exceedingly simplistic potion, an excellent choice to start you off with. What do you know about the Boil Cure Potion?”

“Well… it cures boils.” Harry blushed. “And—and you have to take the cauldron off the fire before you add the porcupine quills.”

“Precisely. Do you know how much of each ingredient we need?” Severus questioned.

“Not exactly.” Harry watched curiously as Severus walked over to a stack of books piled on top of one another, his finger skimming down them until he reached one near the middle. He picked up nearly a dozen books in his arms, setting them down on the floor, and then retrieved the book he must've been looking for. After setting the pile of books he had picked up back where they belonged, he returned to Harry's side.

“This is a book of potions,” Severus explained, catching the expression on Harry's face. He passed the book over to Harry. “Go ahead. Find the Boil Cure Potion.”

Harry opened the book, glancing up at Severus to ask teasingly, “Is this alphabetized as well?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry and said just as teasingly, “Indeed, I think it is. Now, did you find it?”

Harry flipped through the pages until, at last, he reached the potion. “Four ounces of dried nettles,” Harry read aloud. “Four ounces of—”

“Stop there,” Severus instructed. He motioned to the cauldron. “Water has been put in this cauldron, it's been brought to a boil and now you're going to add four ounces of dried nettles to it. Do you think you can manage such a challenging task, Harry?”

Harry laughed out loud. “Actually I don't think so. I have no idea which one could possibly be the dried nettles, and I'm afraid I don't know how to measure four ounces.”

Severus frowned in mock concern. “Hm, well in that case, I suppose you were right when you said you were atrocious at Potions.”

“All right, all right.” Harry bit his lip as he measured the four ounces of dried nettles, and then slowly added them to the boiling water. “Next is another four ounces of crushed snake fangs.”

“Not quite yet,” Severus said hastily before Harry had a chance to add the fangs. “Are you forgetting that you must stir it slowly in order for the nettles to dissolve?”

“Oh, right.” Harry began to slowly stir the water, glancing up to see Severus's expression. “We made this during our first year. Neville… he messed up on it, and it didn't turn out too good.”

Severus looked down at Harry in surprise. “Neville Longbottom? I have to say, that's surprising, considering Longbottom is actually quite good at Potions.”

Harry gaped at Severus, completely forgetting about stirring the water. “Are you kidding? How good is 'quite good'?”

“Enough to impress me,” Severus admitted. “Though I've only taught him this last year, he's hardly 'messed up' once.”

“Wow.” Harry began to stir again, staring down at the cauldron in amazement. “You've got to tell me more. Is Malfoy still absolutely unbearable? Or do you like him, favor him…?”

Severus's brow furrowed briefly. “Well… I hardly favor anyone, and I can't say if he's unbearable or not, considering this-Harry was friends with Draco.”

Harry's mouth hung open, staring at Severus in disbelief. “Now you've got to be kidding! I'd never be friends with Malfoy—never!”

“You've been friends since you were very young,” Severus informed Harry. “You're not the best of friends, and even if you were put into different Houses, you still remained rather close friends nonetheless.”

Harry shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Now you can add the crushed snake fangs. All right, now, stir until that dissolves as well and we'll let it simmer.”

“Next I bet you're going to say that Crabbe is the most smartest and skilled wizard you've ever met for only being in… well… second year, I guess,” Harry muttered as he stirred the potion. He glanced up at Severus, to see that the older man was looking as if he didn't know how to respond to that. Harry gasped. “You're joking! He's not!” Harry stared incredulously. “Is he?” Severus still never said anything, which caused Harry to shake his head, unable to form a proper sentence. He looked back up at Severus in amazement.

“What is that look for? I never said anything,” Severus said, trying to look innocent. “You're mind is working wonders, I must say.”

Harry frowned. “So he's not?”

Severus smirked, looking amused. “What do you think, Harry?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders carelessly, peering down into the cauldron. The fangs seemed to have dissolved, so, he stopped stirring. “I'm in a different reality. Anything's possible.”

“Well, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that Crabbe is as much of a dunderhead as he must have been in your reality.”

Harry gave a little laugh. “So, do you think it's time to add the horned slug? The color looks like it's turning brown.”

“I believe so,” Severus agreed. “Now, are you going to add all the horned slugs in at the same time?”

Harry bit his lip and hesitantly shook his head. “A little bit at a time, right?”

“Right.” Severus watched silently as, bit by bit, Harry added the horned slugs. “You shall start stirring, then we'll let this sit for ten minutes, and finally, we'll add the porcupine quills.”

Severus sat in a chair near him. Harry looked around the room for an extra chair that he could sit in, and as soon as he found one, he brought it next to Severus and the cauldron and sat down.

“So… are you and Sirius ever, do you think, going to start speaking to each other again?” Harry asked after a moments hesitation. Severus's eyes narrowed.

“I have no plans, at the moment, to start speaking to Black again.”

“But I mean ever,” Harry said. “You know Sirius is only acting this way because of what you said.”

“Do you believe I was wrong when I told Black that he should not make jokes when they are unnecessary?” Severus questioned, staring at Harry blankly as he waited for an answer. Harry flushed, clearing his throat.

“Well, I mean I haven't known Sirius for a long time… he does make a lot of jokes, but maybe he does that to lighten up a situation,” Harry suggested, giving his shoulders a small shrug. “I think he's kind of amusing.”

“Amusing,” Severus repeated in disbelief. “Annoying would be more fit! Naturally, you have not had the pleasure of living with and enduring Black for so many years, of which you should be thankful and relieved for.”

“He's not so bad,” Harry said. “I bet he's feeling really horrible, Severus, about everything.”

Severus snorted. “Highly unlikely. Your potion should be ready for the porcupine quills. Take your cauldron off the fire—that's it—and add the porcupine quills one at a time.”

Harry did as he was told. “Do you think, by the end of the summer, if I get loads better that I could try an advanced potion?”

Severus's eyebrows rose. “We shall see how you progress. It is now a green color, which is expected, so now you must stir counter-clockwise four times.”

“This wasn't so bad,” Harry admitted as he stirred the potion the way he was instructed. “I'm much more relaxed when you're like this. You know… you're easy to talk to.”

Severus looked fairly surprised at this unexpected statement. He took a moment or two to answer. “I don't believe anyone's said that to me before.”

“I mean, when you're sort of fun like this,” Harry added quickly. “Since I doubt you act like this when you're teaching actual Potion classes….”

“How do you know?” Severus frowned. “This could be the exact way I act when I'm teaching classes.”

Harry laughed at the thought. “I really don't think so!”

“It's like you said before,” Severus reminded Harry, “you're in a different reality. Anything's possible.”

“True,” Harry admitted. “Severus… if I'm here to stay, what is the wizarding world going to be told of my reappearance? I've been wondering that… and, well, I'm a little nervous about how everyone's going to react.”

“The wizarding world,” Severus began slowly, “is going to be told the truth.”

“The truth?” Harry echoed. “But… I'm going to be asked so many questions!”

“Don't answer them.”

Harry sighed. “People are going to be weird around me since I'm from another reality. Oh, and Ron and Hermione! How will they react? Severus, do they still act like the same Ron and Hermione?”

Severus gave Harry a look. “I wouldn't know how your Ron and Hermione acted.”

“Oh, right,” Harry drew out the last word in realization. He paused. “When is Dumbledore going to tell everyone that, well… Harry's back?”

“Before Hogwarts begins again,” Severus answered.

Harry nodded silently.

Suddenly, from up above them, a door slammed shut. Harry immediately knew that it was Sirius, and apparently, so did Severus, since the professor shifted in his chair.

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Harry suggested softly.

Severus looked away, a scowl appearing on his face. “I think not.”

“Se-e-ev,” Harry drawled with a grin. “Come on, just come up and talk to Sirius about it? You and I both don't want Sirius to keep acting like this.”

Severus, with a relinquished sigh, stood up after what seemed like the longest wait to Harry. With a sour look, Severus said, “I'll go up and speak with him if that will assist Black in giving up this absurd…” Severus trailed off and let out an aggravated sigh, as he could come up with no word to fill in the blank.

Harry, feeling very satisfied, followed Severus out of the lab, out the study, down the small hall and up the stairs with a smile on his face. Maybe, if Severus and Sirius just tried to calmly talk things over, then Sirius wouldn't be acting so strange and there would no longer be an uncomfortable feel in the house.

Then, just as they were walking up the stairs, a thought struck Harry. He had the sudden urge to ask Severus, but he felt uneasy asking it. Gathering up his courage, Harry let out a breath, asking, “Severus, I want to… well… what… what exactly were your parents like?”

Severus froze on the top step, startling Harry, who felt his face start to burn. Would Severus feel comfortable answering such a question, or would he get angry at Harry for even asking it? Harry had absolutely no idea why he thought of such a question—but, now that he thought about it some more, he also began to wonder if they were even alive. If they were, did this-Harry when he was alive like them? Were they nice? Did they live close by?

“Well,” Severus started slowly, his back still to Harry, “they were… fine people.”

Harry wasn't too convinced, but he didn't want to pry too much. “Just fine?”

Severus finally turned around to look at Harry, an expression crossing his face that Harry couldn't describe. “My father was a muggle, my mother was a witch. They hardly got along, and my father… was not the kindest man.”

Harry swallowed, glancing down at the carpeted stair that he was standing on. “Are they still alive?”

Severus coughed. “My mother died many, many years ago and my father was left to raise me. He died quite a while ago of alcohol poisoning.”

“Hello, gents.”

Severus turned back around to see Sirius standing in front of them, standing straight and tall. Usually, when Sirius would greet a person, his head would be tilted to the side as he spoke, and he would never speak in such a… formal manner. Severus waited for Sirius to step back until he walked off the last step to stand face-to-face with Sirius.

“Your golf game is over so promptly?” Severus questioned coolly.

Sirius frowned. “I came back quite a bit early. Is that a problem?”

“No, no,” Severus said, his face unreadable. “How was it?”

“Fine,” Sirius answered stiffly. “I didn't bother keeping score.”

Harry stood so that he was facing both Sirius and Severus, his eyes following each person as they spoke in such a cold, brief way. He waited impatiently for one of them to say something, since after Sirius spoke, the house became unbelievably quiet.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Harry decided to speak, hoping that when he did, Severus and Sirius would stop glaring at each other. Before he could get a word out of his mouth, however, Severus said, “Whatever point you're trying to prove, Black, I wish that you would give it up!”

Sirius's mouth dropped open. “You think I'm trying to prove a point?”

Severus gave Sirius a dirty look. “Aren't you? This whole new attitude you've acquired is simply irritating!”

“Well what if I am?” Sirius yelled. “You're the one who said I should stop making jokes! That's what I'm doing! Trying to be Mr Non-Jokester. Mr… Mr Imposing…-Respected-Person!”

Severus, for the first time since he began to talk to Sirius, looked amused. “You're hardly imposing.”

“Why thanks a lot, Snape,” Sirius responded sarcastically with a scowl.

“I never said that you should stop making jokes altogether. I merely said that you need to stop making jokes when they aren't essential,” Severus reminded the man in front of him. “You are just the drama queen, aren't you, Black?”

Sirius's mouth fell open in protest. “I'm not a drama queen, thank you very much!”

“You certainly went overboard with this,” Severus informed. “Harry, do you not agree?”

“Well—” Harry faltered. Both men had now turned their attention towards Harry, looking expectant. His eyes flickered from Sirius, to Severus, until Sirius broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Snape, I know Harry's just uncomfortable with the fact that he has to disagree with you! He agrees with me, that… you were right before… I was just proving a point—that I can be just as—” Sirius bit his lip, his eyes wide as he searched for the right word. “—just like you are! Strict, using big words, etcetera! Hardly a jokester at all!”

“I highly doubt Harry was going to say that! You never let the boy speak in the first place, Black.”

Sirius glowered. “I know Harry well.”

“Have you forgotten yet again it's a different Harry?”

“I still know this Harry well! Him and I—we have a deep connection! One you couldn't even understand,” Sirius insisted, looking over at Harry to beam at him. Severus rolled his eyes.

“A deep connection? Please, do not make me laugh.”

Sirius ground his teeth together, looking angered. “Snape….”

“Black,” Severus said nonchalantly.

“Snape.”

Severus's brow furrowed, and he now looked puzzled. “Black?”

Sirius threw his arms up in the air, turning away from Severus to pace around the kitchens. “I don't know, this is silly. Can't we just go back to being…” Sirius trailed off, and for a moment, Harry was certain Sirius was going to say, “friends?” But, when Sirius finally spoke again, he said, “…Living companions? And raising-Harry companions?”

Severus looked exhausted. “Never disobey me, Black, do you understand? Another stunt like the one you pulled with my Pensieve and you'll be out on the streets.”

 To Harry, it sounded as if Sirius was being scolded by his father, and the thought caused Harry to bite back a smile.

Sirius nodded his head, looking just as exhausted. “I understand completely, and I'm also really sorry, Snape, honestly.”

Severus nodded his head.

And it was silent again.

Harry finally let a wide grin play across his face. “I'm glad you two are better now. I never want to be put in the middle again, all right?”

Sirius had the decency to blush. “Sorry, Harry. I think we got a little carried away.”

“Like you did with your attitude?” Severus smirked. “Golf, Black? Did you truthfully go out and play golf?”

“Not really,” Sirius admitted. “I went out and walked around the entire town eight times. Sometimes I ran, or jogged, too…”

Harry shook his head. “I still find it funny how, after all these years, you both still refer to one another by your last names.”

Sirius glanced up at Severus. “We aren't that friendly, Harry. Although, I do sometimes call Snape Sev… or Sevvy… or lovebug… or honeybear… or even—”

“All right!” Severus interrupted loudly, causing Sirius to quickly stop talking. “That is enough, Black.”

Sirius looked over at Harry, smirking, as Severus turned and walked away from the two, looking almost annoyed. “You know he's just embarrassed, that's all.”

“Today's the day!” Sirius called out in a cheerful greeting. “As well as the first time for Harry, need I add? What d'you think it'll be this year?”

Harry, barely awake as he trudged down the stairs, desperately tried to comprehend what Sirius was talking about, but came up with nothing.

“What're you talkin' 'bout?” Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes drowsily.

“Do enlighten us,” Severus said, looking grumpy as he came down behind Harry, who wasn't really surprised. He found that Severus was often grumpy in the mornings when he didn't get enough sleep the night before.

“You're usually the first one up,” Sirius commented, surprised.

Severus scowled. “You don't say?”

“Anyway, don't you remember, Hun-bun? The annual town play?” Sirius shook his head, now talking to Harry. “The town, during the summer, usually puts on a play. Last year it was… oh, what was it? I dunno, I forget the name, but it was different.”

“That? You're excited over that? Well, you and Harry can go, but as for me—”

Sirius groaned. “You're not still mad at me, are you?”

Severus scoffed, standing in front of Sirius in the foyer. Harry stood on the last step and watched the two in front of him. “Why would you assume that?”

“'Cause you just want me and Harry to go,” Sirius pointed out.

“I don't enjoy it!” Severus said. “Absolutely trivial…”

Sirius groaned. “Don't tell me you really don't to go! We always go! Why?”

“It's ridiculous!” Severus exclaimed. “Completely ridiculous. Especially last year.”

“Why?” Harry asked slowly. “What happened last year?”

Sirius sighed, walking over to Harry and putting his arm over his shoulder as they followed Severus into the dining room. “Last year, in one scene, Normy Johnson and Gale Holowitz were the main characters, and Normy was supposed to kiss Gale and tell her how much he loved her, but Normy began laughing so much when they got to that scene that they weren't able to finish the play.”

“Ridiculous,” Severus said again, accompanied by a scowl. He sat down in his chair.

A grin slipped onto Sirius's face as he stage whispered, “I think our little softy Sevvy here wanted to see the happy, mushy ending.”

“Oh, of course,” Severus agreed sarcastically. “Especially the rainbows and flowers in the Valley of Contentement and Everlasting Love, where Gale's hardly dimwitted hero Normy Johnson carries her off to, so they can live happily ever after. That would have made my day.”

Sirius loudly cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had followed, obviously trying to hide his laughter that threatened to escape as he said, “Well… er, Snape, that was quite a picture you've painted for us… but, I believe it was rainbows and gumdrops, not rainbows and flowers.”

Severus shot Sirius an exasperated look. “Certainly it was, how could I have been so foolish as to neglect to remember that fact?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “I'm sure you'll get over it… but will you come with us? You always used to go. Don't stop now.” Sirius looked disappointed as he realized he was getting no where with Snape, so he gave Harry a look, jerking his head in Severus's direction. Harry looked back confused, trying to understand what Sirius was trying to say. Again, Sirius made more handmotions towards Severus when he wasn't looking.

“I'm not blind,” Severus began loudly, startling Sirius, who quickly dropped his hands down on his lap. “I can clearly see what you're doing, and I know you're trying to get Harry to make me go.”

“You can never say no to Harry,” Sirius muttered, finally paying attention to the food on the table.

“I can say no to Harry. I've done it multiple times,” said Severus.

Harry frowned. “That's what you were doing?” He turned towards Severus, doing his best to put on a pleading expression. “Why don't you go with us? I've never gone to it before, and I would like it very much if both you and Sirius went.”

Sirius looked over at Severus, trying to imitate Harry's expression. “Yes, Sevvy, ple-e-ease?”

Severus stared at Harry while the boy even began to pout. Finally, with a sigh and a nod, Severus said, “Very well. I'll go, but only for Harry.”

Sirius grinned broadly. “Brilliant! Oh, Harry, you'll love it. It's hilarious sometimes. The town decides on a play, and then the people who direct it and everything—that would be Elizabeth Hawlen, Colleen Prindle and Steve Jarsen—well, they choose people in the town who would fit the role.” Sirius smirked. “Severus even got offered a role once, years ago. You'll never guess what the role was.”

Harry glanced up at Severus, who was blatantly ignoring their conversation and becoming fascinated with the food on his plate. Once again, Harry was too caught up in listening that he had completely forgotten about eating.

“Scrooge!” Sirius finally exclaimed before Harry could say anything. “Scrooge! I honestly think he should have accepted, but he didn't, and some other bloke got it instead. We went to go see the play anyway, and I think Snape here would've been perfect! I would have loved to see him in it… but now I'll never get the chance.” Sirius sighed in disappointment, looking at Severus forlornly. “If only.”

“And you don't know what the play is this year?” Harry asked, starting to eye the bangers on a plate, next to the bacon. He had only remembered his hunger then as his stomach had reminded him with a growl.

Sirius frowned. “No, actually. We usually hear it sometime before the actual play date.” Realization crossed Sirius's face. “Well, I wasn't here for a while, so that's why I don't know… and Snape probably didn't leave the house, so he wouldn't have heard either.” Sirius purposely avoided Severus's eye.

The house became quiet as the three silently ate their breakfast. It seemed that Sirius had brought up a touchy subject, and he seemed to realize that, too.

Harry felt something soft rub against his foot. He pushed back and ducked his head underneath the table to find Black staring at him with wide, greenish-yellow eyes. The kitten meowed as Harry straightened up and pushed the chair back towards the table.

“I need to feed Black when I'm finished,” he said. Harry made a face as a thought struck him. “Right… and upstairs at the end of the hall? Black seemed to have had an accident. I guess he still needs to get used to the stairs. I'll clean it up.”

Suprisingly, Severus looked extremely amused. “Yes… poor Black, not bathroom trained…”

Sirius frowned. “I thought they said he was litter trained?”

“Oh, he is,” Severus said lightly.

It took a second for it to dawn on Sirius. “Hey! Harry was talking about the cat, not me!”

Severus smirked.

--

Sirius was impatient the rest of the day as he waited until seven o'clock, which was the time they were going to leave. Harry sat by Sirius in the their room in front of the television; both abandoned the couch and decided to sit in bean bag chairs instead. Sirius had insisted that they watch The Wizard of Oz, and when they invited Severus to join, the professor had hastily declined.

“Did we ever name this room?” Harry asked, peeling his eyes off the screen to look over at Sirius. “I mean I just know this room as 'our room'.”

Sirius glanced at Harry, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “No, I don't believe we ever did. D'you wanna name it?”

Startled, Harry said, “Really? A—are you sure?”

“Of course!” Sirius said cheerfully. He seemed to like the idea. “Any thoughts?”

Harry looked around the interesting room. What could be a fitting name for this room? Harry drew a blank.

Harry turned around in the chair as he heard Severus say, “We should be leaving now.”

Sirius's eyebrows rose in surprise. “It's seven already?”

“You have your watch, do you not, Black?”

“I don't,” Sirius admitted. “I need a new one. My other one was faulty; kept making this incredibly annoying beeping noise.” Sirius stood, turning off the television and stretching. “All right, let's head out. We'll think of a name after, kid.”

“How are we getting there? And where is it?” Harry asked either Severus or Sirius—whoever answered first.

“The plays are usually down at the Hall,” Sirius said. “We'll be walking. It'll probably take us around fifteen minutes or so.”

“Everything in this town takes at least fifteen minutes or more to get to,” Severus added sarcastically as he lead the two down the hall. “Black is down here, is he? I don't want another mess upstairs while we're gone.”

“Yup, he's down here somewhere,” Harry answered.

“I hope it's as great as last year,” Sirius said excitedly, changing the subject. “Harry, you'll love it! The town holds such interesting things.”

“And Black loves every one of them,” Severus muttered. “I begin to wonder why he was never chosen for one of those frivolous roles in the past.”

Sirius pouted. “Don't remind me about it. I don't think it's very fair, either! Oh, Harry, your shoes are over there in that closet. Speaking of Harry, he was never offered any roles.”

“Thank Merlin.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow as he slipped into his own shoes. “You wouldn't like to see your son up on stage? I would have been so proud.”

Severus didn't say anything. In fact, he acted as if Sirius had never said anything in the first place. He waited until Harry and Sirius were ready until he opened the door, letting the two go through before he closed it shut behind him.

“Severus, dear!”

Severus cringed at the sudden highpitched, female voice. Harry looked back at Severus in confusion, wondering where the voice had come from. Then, from the house next door, a short, plump lady with frizzy auburn curls began to wave her arm in the air at Severus. As fast as she could, she approached the three.

“Goodday, Maddie!” Sirius said cheerfully. “I'm sure Severus is glad to see you!”

Maddie looked up at Severus with a broad smile. Harry noticed that she wasn't exactly the most attractive woman.

“Oh, he better be!” Maddie said, wrapping her hands around Severus's arm. “Tall, dark and quiet—that's how I like 'em!”

Severus remained expressionless, but Harry clearly caught him wince. Maddie, however, remained oblivious.

“Lovely,” he muttered sarcastically. Maddie remained oblivious to his sarcasm, as well. “Well… shall we? I assume you're going to the Hall?”

“Right righty!” Maddie replied. “Glad to be arriving with such a handsome escort.”

“Aren't I handsome too?” Sirius stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. He took hold of Harry's shoulders and guided the boy in front of him. “And what about this one? He's mighty handsome too. He must get that from me.”

Maddie grinned. “Goody! I have three handsome escorts!”

Sirius let Maddie and Severus walk ahead of him and harry. “We'll tag along back here,” Sirius whispered. “Let Maddie and Sev have some privacy.” He winked.

“Wow,” Harry said, his voice thick with surprise. “You called him Sev… and not sarcastically.”

Sirius didn't seem too surprised. “Well, it's not the first time. I do sometimes happen to slip. Snape doesn't seem to appalled when he's around and the slip happens, either.”

Harry grinned. “Does Severus sometimes slip, too?”

Sirius nodded. “Often, yeah. At first it was weird, but now it's just normal, and we just go on acting like it's nothing.”

“You're that used to it?”

“Pretty much.”

“So it must be quite often, then.”

Sirius laughed. “I guess.”

“So,” Harry started off awkwardly after a pause. He briefly looked at the colorful sky, which was a mixture of a light blue, a bright pink and a soft purple before he asked, “You and Severus weren't exactly the best of friends during your schooldays, were you?”

Sirius's enthusiasm dimmed a bit. “He told you his story then, huh? Yeah… I imagine us Marauders didn't sound like the best people.”

“That's what you called yourselves?” Harry asked. “The Marauders?”

A faint grin grew upon Sirius's face. “Yeah, and it's true, we weren't the nicest people to Snape. I guess that's what caused most of the unfriendliness between us, too.”

“You were friends with my mum, though,” Harry said cheerfully.

Sirius laughed again. “Lily was a great friend. A great person. James was always a little mad at me because she liked me better than him.”

“And probably because she was friends with you and not him,” Harry added. “But you and James were good friends, too?”

“The best of!” Sirius declared. “He was like my brother. His home was my home. I didn't have the greatest family, you see, so James's family kind of adopted me as their second son, I guess you could say.”

“When you graduated Hogwarts, did you ever have a job in mind?” Harry asked. “Unless you have a job, I don't—”

“No, no,” Sirius interrupted. “I always planned to be an Auror. James, too. We went to training, but then… after what happened to Lily and James… it was sort of like I fell off the face of the Earth. Then, helping raise you became my job. I took other jobs around town here, too. Some lasted a while… some were only just temporary jobs. Anywhere I could help out.”

“Sirius!” Maddie suddenly called over her shoulder.

“Yes, my blossoming rosebud?”

Maddie giggled. “You make me feel like I'm twenty years old again!” She sighed. “How I wish I was. I'm getting too old! Anyway, Siri, luv, can you convince this dark, handsome sugarpie to visit this old lady sometime? I don't think he'll listen to me.”

Smiling, Sirius agreed. “I'll make sure to do that, Maddie. Hey, look, it seems we aren't the first people to arrive here!”

Indeed, Harry noticed that tons of people seemed to be gathering around something outside of a small, white building. As they drew closer, Harry noticed what they were crowding around.

“A concession stand!” Sirius gasped. “They never had this before!” His hand immediately dove into his pocket. “And I have money! Brilliant—Harry, go over and choose whatever you want.”

Harry turned red. “I—I don't know—”

“Oh, c'mon, kid, what d'you like? There's licorice, ice cream, giant freezies… candyfloss…”

Harry shook his head. “I haven't had any of that before.”

Maddie, behind them, apparently heard. “Waddya talkin' about, Harry? Of course you have!”

Harry laughed weakly. “Right, well, I was just kidding… I wanted to see what Sirius would say, that's all.”

Maddie nodded and grinned. “Ah, I see.”

The corner of Severus's mouth pulled up briefly, and then he spoke. “If you would excuse us, Maddie?”

“Of course!” Maddie moved over to another group of people, finally letting go of Severus's arm.

“Nothing? You haven't even had candyfloss before?” Sirius hissed, frowning. “You're kidding.”

Harry shook his head silently.

“Go get whatever you want,” Severus allowed softly. “Today I'll permit you to get a stomachache.”

Grinning widely, but still looking concerned, Sirius pulled Harry towards the stand. “First we'll get you a huge freezie, any color,” Sirius said. “It's almost the length of your arm! We'll get you licorice, too… then how about an ice cream? I think we'll leave out the popcorn, we have that at home… uhm, oh! Then we'll get you a bag of candyfloss.”

Harry stared at his godfather in amazement. “I can't eat all of that!”

“I'll help you,” Sirius offered quickly. “I bet you didn't know that Snape has a soft spot for candyfloss, too. Uh huh, so I'm sure he'd gladly help with that.”

Harry, still in disbelief, watched as Sirius went to the front and ordered freezies, licorice and a bag of candyfloss. Obviously, Harry thought, Sirius realized that he couldn't order the ice cream until later on, because it would melt.

Clever.

As Harry walked into the Hall with Sirius and Severus, he realized that it looked much smaller on the outside. There was a stage at the front of the room, and tons of uncomfortable-looking chairs were set up throughout the room. Already a lot of people were filling the chairs up. The three chose the middle seats. Sirius placed the bag of candyfloss on the chair next to him.

“Why'd you do that?” Harry asked curiously, looking over at the chair occupied by the candy. “Someone might want to sit there.”

“It's a reserved seat,” Sirius said cheerfully. “I sort of have a surprise for you. Even Snapey doesn't know what it is.”

Severus eyed Sirius suspiciously. “I won't like it, will I?”

“Oh no,” Sirius answered. “You won't mind at all.”

Suddenly, Sirius lit up, and Harry quickly followed his gaze. A man was staring at him, quite intently actually, Harry realized. Harry looked over to his left where Severus sat. Even he seemed to recognize the stranger.

“Oi, Moony—over here!” Sirius yelled out loudly, causing several people to turn back in their chair and stare at him. Sirius didn't notice. He seemed to be more concerned about the stranger that was now approaching them, staring at Harry warily.

“Hello Severus,” the man—Moony?—greeted carefully, his eyes still on Harry. “Sirius invited me. I hope you don't mind.”

Harry felt Severus's eyes flicker onto him before they finally registered on Moony. “Of course not. I assume Black told you about—?”

“Yes, yes,” Moony answered quickly. “He told me all about that.”

“About… me?” Harry guessed quietly, looking at Severus as he awaited an answer, although he already had a good suspicion of what it would be. “About this?”

“Yes,” Severus answered in an equally quiet voice.

“Come on, sit down, Moony,” Sirius said, picking up the candyfloss.

Moony did as such, finally tearing his eyes away from Harry, albeit he said, “It's nice to see you again, Harry.”

He sounded genuine about it, too.

Harry grinned uncomfortably. “It's nice to meet you.”

Surprise was clearly written on Moony's face as he looked at Sirius in alarm, and Sirius leaned over to whisper something to the other man.

“My name's Remus Lupin by the way,” the man said to Harry as he straightened. “But Sirius calls me Moony.”

Remus Lupin. Familiar, Harry thought. Then it struck him—Lupin, from Severus, when he was talking about his days at Hogwarts!

Suddenly, Sirius yelled out very loudly, “What's the play this year?”

“Romeo and Juliet!” a woman from the very front of the room yelled back.

Sirius frowned, looking confused. “Huh? I've never heard of that before.”

There was a gasp from behind them. All four turned around to see Elizabeth Hawlen staring at them in utter amazement. “You've never heard of Romeo and Juliet? Shakespeare?” She stared as all four looked clueless. “Have you been living in a cave?” She suddenly eyed Remus. “And who is this charming man? I've actually seen you around here before.”

“Just ignore her and slowly turn around,” Sirius muttered to Remus from the side of his mouth, doing exactly that. His excitement grew again as the lights began to dim. He glanced over at Harry and laughed loudly.

“What?” Harry asked, his cheeks turning pink.

“That freezie turned your mouth entirely blue.” Sirius's laughter turned to a few chuckles as he picked up his own bag of licorice, holding it out to Remus. “Take a few. They're delicious.”

There was a loud coughing in front of them, coming from the stage. Colleen Prindle coughed again to get everybody's attention.

“Thank you and welcome to another year of our traditional town play! We have worked hard and I think it's paid off! Please, no phones or cameras during the show, it's distracting. Now, on behalf of all of us, please enjoy tonights performance of Romeo and Juliet!”

The lights dimmed some more until the only thing that was lit up was the stage. Beside him, Harry heard Severus groan, and on his other side, he heard Sirius let out a noise of excitement.

There was a voice that echoed through the room, saying, “Two households both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes a pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; while misadventured piteous overthrows do with their death bury their parents' strife.”

Harry listened, hardly intrigued. He glanced over at Sirius and then at Severus to see their reactions, since he could not see Remus's. There was slight confusion on both of their faces, though Sirius's was more pronounced.

After a while, Harry jumped as Sirius yelled out, “What language are they speaking?!”

“It's Elisabethan, Sirius!” a girl a couple rows in front of them yelled out. “You should know that!”

Completely forgetting the play was going on before him, Sirius yelled back, “Why should I know? I've never even heard of this play before!”

“Don't worry about it, Sirius,” a man in front of Sirius said as he turned around. “I only know it from my wife. Didn't pay much attention in school, y'see.”

Suddenly, the young man who was playing Romeo approached the edge of the stage and glared at the audience.

“Iseth there a problem?” he demanded.

Sirius held up his hands. “Sorry Erny! Hey, do those tights bother you any?”

Harry heard Severus groan again.

“Sirius Black!” Erny yelled, sounding angry. “Just becauseth you… areth… handsome and Sally would rather kiss you, AND becauseth you were supposed to get the part of Romeo does not mean you can—”

“Wait!” Sirius stood up, looking shocked. Beside him, Harry noticed Remus was looking embarrassed. “I was supposed to get the part of Romeo? Really?”

“Yeseth!” Erny yelled. “But because they could not findeth thee, thou hast to choose me!”

“I don't think you're speaking Elisabethan, luv,” shouted Maddie, Harry recognized. “And don't worry about not being as good-looking as Sirius. He's just so manly.”

“His name is so manly too!” Another girl yelled. Her voice got cut off, as if a hand was thrown overtop of her mouth.

Erny's mouth fell open. “Manly? A manly name? Sirius?”

“Yeah, Sirius,” Maddie yelled. “It's a star. Y'know, Sirius?”

“Y—yeah, well, Ernest means determined and sincere, which means that Erny means the same thing!”

“Well… it's your nickname, luv,” Maddie pointed out in confusion.

Juliet, who Harry learned was really Sally, suddenly let out a frustrated cry. “Sirius Black, you are ruining everything for me!” She stamped her foot. “This was supposed to be my play! How dare you?” She tore off her wig, revealing messy hair, and stomped down the stairs of the stage and then ran through the aisle.

“I give up!” she wailed. “Find someone else to be your lousy Juliet!”

The audience remained deadly silent. Sirius still stood, looking at a loss for words.

Colleen stepped onto the stage, and even from back there Harry could see that she was red with anger.

“Sirius Black!” Colleen barked. “Come up here! Now.”

Sirius paled, looking down at the three frantically. “Don't make me go,” he whispered, sounding frightened.

But Colleen didn't want to play games.

“Sirius!”

With each step looking reluctant, Sirius slowly made his way up on stage, where Colleen grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him behind the curtain.

“Here.” She picked up a sparkly, burgandy gown and a wig. “Put these on.”

Sirius looked down at the items in horror. “Why?”

Colleen smirked. “Because you, my dear, are our new Juliet.”

--

Harry waited impatiently until the curtains drew back. He had already finished his bag of licorice, and now dug into his candyfloss. But, as it melted on his tongue, he had to stop and wonder what happened to Sirius.

That is, until he caught sight of the people onstage. From the corner of his eyes he saw Severus visibly straighten and Remus's mouth drop open.

Sirius stood on the stage in a long gown, wearing a curly, long brunette wig. He had a blue scriptbook open in one hand and he looked very, very unhappy.

“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” Sirius's voice was dull, unenthusiastic and monotone. He almost sounded like a robot. “Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, but be sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a… Capulet. A Capulet.”

“We're not at that part yet!” came the loud hiss from Erny—or, Romeo—since their voices were magnified by microphones.

“I don't care!” Sirius hissed back. “I want to get this over with. This wig itches!”

A few people in the audience snorted or snickered.

Sirius continued. “O… think'st?… thou we shall ever meet again?”

Erny cleared his throat, using a dramatic voice. “I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve for sweet discourses in our time to come.”

Sirius made a horrified face.

Harry continued to watch in amusement. He would often glance over at Severus to see that he was clearly trying to hold back a wide smile.

Glancing down at the bag in his hand, Harry offered some of the candyfloss to Severus.

“Why thank you.”

Harry looked over at Remus to see that he was enjoying Sirus's torture, too.

“And trust me, love, in my eye so do you; dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!”

Harry stared as Romeo spoke those words.What was he talking about?

“Do you have any idea what they're saying?” Harry whispered to Severus.

“Sometimes,” he answered.

Sirius was speaking in the same dull, robotic voice. “O fortune, fortune. All men call thee fickle: if thou… art… fickle, what—dost? Is that dost?” Sirius paused as Erny gave his head a jerk. “What dost thou with him. That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; for then—”

“Wait,” Erny suddenly whispered. “I don't think you're supposed to say that ye—”

“I… don't… care!” Sirius mouthed, scratching at his wig. “Be not so long to speak; I long to die, if what thou… speak'st?… speak not of remedy.”

“Friar Laurence, someone get Friar Laurence!” Someone backstage shouted. Friar Laurence stumbled onto the stage.

“Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope—”

“Here,” Severus suddenly whispered to Harry. “Go get an ice cream.” He dropped some money onto Harry's lap.

“But I'm not done the candyfloss,” Harry pointed out, but Severus shook his head.

“You can save that for tomorrow. Go on.”

Picking up the money, Harry went out to the concession stand. He quickly returned with a chocolate sundae as the Friar Laurence was still speaking.

“—And this distilled liquor drink—drink thou off; when presently through—through all thy v—veins shall run a cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse sh—shall keep this native progress, but surcease: no warmth, no—Sirius!—breath shall testify thou livest—”

“There,” Harry whispered as he returned to his seat. Both Remus and Severus looked as if they were going to burst out laughing when Sirius spoke again. “Want a bite?”

“No, thank you,” Severus declined. “Apparently this Friar Laurence is giving Sirius—or rather, Juliet—some type of potion that can make it seem like she is dead when she is merely sleeping.” Severus glanced at Harry. “I've never heard of such a thing.”

Harry shrugged. “It is a muggle play.” He listened as the Friar Laurence went on.

“Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like d—death: and this in borrow'd like—likeness of a shrunk death thou shalt continue two and for—forty hours, and then awake as from—from a pleasant sleep.”

Harry had no idea if Sirius skipped ahead or not, but in the same unenthusiastic voice Sirius said, “O, look. Methinks I see my cousin's ghost seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body upon a rapiers point; stay, Tybalt, stay. Romeo, I come. This do I drink to thee.”

Unsure of what to do, since Sirius looked as if he had no idea what he just said, he grabbed the vial from Friar Laurence and pretended to drink.

The others on stage with him looked startled.

Sirius, looking around, quickly dropped to the floor, and as he did his wig fell off. He hit the floor with a thud and hastily reached out to pick up the fallen wig and shove it back down on his head. He lay back on the floor, holding the scriptbook up to Erny.

Erny glared.

“Read the part that starts off with 'News from Verona,'” Sirius whispered, though the whole audience still heard him.

Erny looked annoyed. “News from Verona!—How now, Balthasar! Dost thou bring me letters from the friar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? How fares my Juliet? That I ask again; for nothing can be ill, if she be well.”

Two people from the backstage went out to drag Sirius away from the scene and another young man was pushed onstage, looking frightened.

Remus leaned over the empty chair between him and Harry and whispered, “I wish I brought a camera with me or something.”

“It seems to me as if we know everybody in this town,” Harry whispered back. “I'm sure someone could be nice enough to give us pictures, or even a video of this.”

“Well Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight. Let's see for the means: O mischief, thou art swift to enter in the thoughts of desperate men! I do remember an apothecary,—and hereabouts he dwells,—which late I noted—”

Sirius pushed another man onstage, who after momentarily getting flustered, said, “P—put this in any liquid you will, and drink it off—er, line?”

“And if you had the strength of twenty men, it would dispatch you strength!” Sirius yelled out from behind the curtain. The man nodded, sighed, and went back behind the curtain as well, leaving Romeo onstage by himself.

“Fare—farewell,” Erny stuttered, looking around him cluelessly, “buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me to Juliet's grave, for there I must use thee.”

“Okay Erny,” came Sirius's hushed voice through the microphone. “Read the part where you go to drink the potion.”

Sirius rushed onstage as some of the crew hurriedly pushed a bed-like box out with him.

“It's poison, not a potion,” Erny muttered darkly, although the microphone picked it up.

Sirius threw himself on the box and closed his eyes, his script still in his hands. With a sigh, Erny walked over and said, “Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love!”

Dramatically, Erny put the vial to his lips and pretended to drink. He sprawled himself next to Sirus on the box, almost so that he was nearly on top of him, and pretended to have trouble breathing. He began to gasp for air.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut tighter, feeling his wig start to slip off again.

“O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick!” Erny gasped. “Thus, with a kiss, I die.”

Sirius's once-shut-tight eyelids now were open exceedingly wide as he felt Erny press his lips against his own.

Sirius abruptly sat up, causing Erny to topple to the floor and his curly wig to go flying across the room.

“He kissed me!” Sirius yelled loudly, his face pale. “Blimey—he kissed me!”

The audience now roared with laughter. It seemed Severus could not hold it in any longer as he joined in.

Sirius stood, and now Erny took his place on the box. Clearing his throat and scowling, Sirius said in a robotic voice, “What's here? A cup, closed in my true… loves… hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. O churl—”

“Severus,” Harry managed as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, “did he just call something charl? What's charl?”

“I do not know,” Severus answered, looking as if he was going to laugh again.

“I—I will…” Sirius faltered at the words, frowning. “… Kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them—what?—to make die with a restorative.”

Sirius lingered over Erny, still scowling.

“You have to kiss me,” Erny whispered, his eyes still shut tight.

“No,” Sirius said harshly. He placed his hand over Erny's mouth and quickly pressed his lips to his hand. “Thy lips are warm.”

Erny coughed loudly by accident, causing several from the audience to giggle.

Sirius skimmed down the script, looking all the words over. “Yea, noise. Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger.” Sirius looked around in confusion, then seeing a girl peek out from behind the curtain, hissed, “I need a happy dagger!”

A foam dagger was thrown at him, hitting him on the side of the head. Sirius picked it up and looked back at the book to search for his line.

“This is thy sheath.” Sirius stared at the script. Then, looking at the foam dagger, he thrust it into his chest. Pausing again with the foam dagger still squished against him, he read what he was supposed to do.

Fall on Romeo and die.

“There rust, and let me die,” Sirius intoned, awkwardly laying hmself on the other half of the box so he wasn't on top of Erny, but half-on the box and half-off.

The curtain closed in front of them and Sirius scrambled up. There was an applause, and much laughter from the audience.

“Your wig came off.” Erny pouted. “I guess near the end Juliet got a quick haircut for some reason.”

“You kissed me!” Sirius yelled accusingly. “Why?!”

“I had to make it look believable!” Erny said defensively.

“Well believe me, it was believable.” Sirius shuddered. “Do we go out and bow?”

Erny shrugged. “After the narrator's done, I guess.”

“—For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

Sirius, turning red, walked onto the stage with Erny, who insisted on holding hands to bow.

“That's how I learned to bow!” Erny said. “Just take my hand, will you?”

Sirius pulled his hand away from Erny, frowning. “No! We'll just bow seperately, all right?” Sirius kept his hand far away from Erny as he walked to the end of the stage, where several people whistled at him and yelled out. Sirius gave his head a small bow, and then walked off the stage, whereas Erny decided to stay and keep on bowing more times than he should have.

He was glad to finally get rid of that horrible dress and the itchy wig and back into his own nice, comfortable clothing. He walked down the steps to be greeted by a familiar voice.

“Well done, Padfoot!”

Remus looked happier and more amused than he should have, and for that Sirius scowled. Even Harry and Severus looked as if they were trying to hold back smiles.

“That was the worst play ever,” Sirius groaned. “Honestly! How horrible was that? Harry, didn't you just hate it?”

“No,” Harry said with a smile. “I actually enjoyed it very much. You were… interesting.”

“Interesting,” Severus repeated, smirking, “is exactly the word I would use to describe your performance tonight, Black.”

Suddenly, Sirius's eyes widened as a thought struck him. “And just what did it mean when Erny said something about 'Sweet discourses'?” Sirius shuddered.

Severus opened his mouth as if he were about to explain what 'discourse' meant, but then with an almost satisfied look he shut it. He seemed to enjoy letting Sirius think it meant something completely different than it really did.

“Sirius!”

Sirius turned around to find an older-looking lady approaching him, with a bouquet of roses in her arms. She smiled widely.

“These were originally for Sally, but I just wanted to thank you for the best town play in twenty years. You can have these.”

She handed the bouquet to Sirius, who took them awkwardly from her arms. After she walked away, he turned around, flushing, and put them into Severus's arms.

“These are for you,” Sirius said. “Think of them as an 'I'm sorry' for our argument we had yesterday. I would've gotten you a soft little teddy bear and a box of chocolates to go with them, Sweetpea, but this was kind of short notice.”

“How very thoughtful,” Severus said sarcastically.

Sirius, seeing something behind Severus, smiled and gave Remus a knowing look. Severus didn't have to turn around and look to see what Sirius found so funny, for he suddenly felt a presence beside him that was not Harry.

“Hello Severus,” came a shy, flirty voice.

Severus grimaced, turning his head to look at the young girl beside him.

“Hello, Anne,” Severus replied curtly. Sirius snickered.

“I haven't seen you around the town in a while,” she said, making sure to bat her eyelashes wildly. “Nice roses.”

“Mmm.” Severus frowned in concern. “Are you quite all right? Is there something wrong with your eyes?”

Anne blushed. “N—no. Well… hi, Harry… goodnight.” Quickly, she walked away.

“Seems someone has the hots for you, Sevvy,” Sirius teased in a sing-song voice as they walked out of the Hall. “You should know better than that. She's eighteen!”

Severus sounded disgusted.“I'm not doing anything with her, Black, so there's really nothing to worry about.” Severus briefly glanced down at Harry and then looked back up at Sirius, making sure to give the man a dark scowl.

“That must have been the shortest play I've ever been to here,” Remus admitted, shaking his head. “It seemed like you were enjoying that kiss, Padfoot!”

“Oh, stuff it, Moony!” Sirius smacked Remus's arm. “Wanna stay the night at the Manor? Harry can join us and we'll stay up all night and gossip just like girls do.”

Remus grinned. “We-e-ell, Sirius, I don't know…”

Sirius frowned. “Come off it! I'm not gonna try anything! That's wrong, Moony. You have a twisted mind.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “We have a twelve-year-old present, no matter if you're only kidding, gentlemen.”

“Technically he's thirteen,” Sirius pointed out smartly. “Hey—look! Let's go!”

Harry looked around the darkening streets. “Go where?”

“After town plays Joey's is always open and everyone goes! Come on, Sev, let's go. Please?”

Severus made a face. “Absolutely not. There is always singing involved.”

“Merlin, no, you don't have to sing! Let's go!”

Without waiting for a response from Severus, Sirius grabbed Harry's hand and quickly pulled him towards the diner that, in bright red neon lights, said JOEY'S. Sirius glanced back to find that Remus was following, and so was Severus, though he looked reluctant.

Harry immediately became blinded by multicolored lights as he was dragged into Joey's diner. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw Sirius smiling widely. Almost everybody that was at the play that could fit into the diner was there, Harry noticed.

“Oi, Sirius, pucker up!” Harry heard Normy Johnson yell, making kissing noises.

Sirius turned red, though it was hardly noticeable from the lights that were flashing everywhere.

“Wow,” Harry muttered, looking around. There was a counter to his left, which people were crowded around as they tried to order food. Dozens of round tables were scattered around the rest of the room, and a small platform was at the front of the room where a very giggly-looking girl was singing. Very, very, very badly.

“Rock the boat, don't tip the boat over, rock the boat—”

Sirius let go of Harry's arm, and Harry turned around to see Remus and Severus walk into the diner. Severus had a very disgusted look on his face.

“Sirius,” Remus started uncertainly, “are you sure you want to stay here? It's…” Remus trailed off, looking up at the girl singing, who was now too busy giggling to get any of the words out. “…Well.”

“Aw, you guys aren't any fun.” Sirius pouted. “C'mon, Rem, live a little!” Sirius reached out and grabbed Remus's arm now, dragging him over to Normy Johnson and a group of others.

Harry looked up at Severus. “Erm… what do we do now?”

Severus's eyes wandered around the room. “Stay, I suppose. We can't leave Black and Lupin here by themselves, especially since Lupin will hardly have any common sense considering he's in the presence of Black and Normy Johnson.”

“We might as well grab a table before everyone else does,” Harry suggested, already making his way towards one.

“All right, Sev'rus, mate?” A man said from behind the counter.

Severus nodded his head in greeting. “Timmy.”

“Can I getcha anything?” He took a rag and began wiping glasses. “Harry, can I get you anything? Anything atall?”

“Are you hungry?” Severus questioned Harry, who laughed loudly.

“Hungry? I don't think I'll be hungry for another twenty years. But, I am a bit thirsty, if you don't mind.”

“Two pumpkin juices, please,” Severus called over.

Timmy scratched his head, looking confused. “Pumpkin juices, eh? Well… I don't think we sell those. We gots lemonade. Care for two lemonades?”

“Sure.” Severus shook his head, turning back around in his chair and avoiding Sirius's enthusiastic wave. “I forgot that they wouldn't sell pumpkin juice. You like lemonade, I assume, correct?”

“I do,” Harry replied, nodding his head. He winced as a man he had been introduced to at his party now took the stage, and was singing a horrible love song to his girlfriend, or fiancée, or wife—Harry knew it was one of those, but not which one in particular.

“Here ya go, Gents.” Timmy placed two glasses on Harry and Severus's table. “Quite a crowd we got tonight, innit? Well, looks like Sirius's and them are sure enjoying themselves, eh?”

Harry looked over to see “Sirius and them” throw their heads back and down a small glass in one gulp. Remus seemed to be the only one to take his time with his own glass.

Timmy walked away, chuckling.

Severus looked exhausted as Sirius yelled something incoherent to the both of them. “This is going to be the longest night of my entire life.”

--

Harry held his chin in his right hand. Not even the loud, horrible singing coming from some bloke that seemed to be angry at his girlfriend and was taking it out on the song could keep him awake. Harry's eyes almost fluttered shut when there was a sudden bang on the table, causing him to jump and let out a yell.

“Oi!” Sirius bit his lip, and then laughed. “I jus' made you fly like a birdie, Harry-poo!”

Severus looked unamused. “I am hardly surprised that you got yourself drunk, Black. Lupin, as well… I suppose that's what happens when you associate yourself with Black and Johnson.”

“Me? Nooooo.” Sirius shook his head wildly. “No, no, no. D'you… d'you know… that your eyes are black? Like your hair?” Sirius hiccuped. “My name—my name's Black!”

“How fascinating,” came the sarcastic reply. “Why don't we leave now? Harry's about to fall asleep.”

“No!” Sirius suddenly yelled loudly. He stumbled over to Remus. He was saying something to Normy Johnson, and suddenly, before Harry knew it, a group of people were tripping up onto the stage where everybody had been singing all night. But not just any group of people…

“Everyone I'm Sirius,” Sirius said, pressing his mouth up against the microphone and making odd noises. He blew a raspberry and it echoed through the speakers. “That's Sirius, 'cause that's wha' I am.”

“D'you hear that? Sirius!” Normy added. He was drunk too, off course, as well as the rest of the people on stage with them. Severus sighed beside Harry.

“I'm Sirius,” Sirius said again. He put his arm around Remus's shoulder and brought the man up next to the microphone with him. “This is my bestest friend, Remus. He's my brother. My wolf brother.”

Remus nodded enthusiastically. “I'mma wolf brother, you know!”

Harry frowned. “Wolf brother? What do they mean?”

Severus looked momentarily startled, but then in a calm, very low voice, he said, “Everyone else probably thinks they just sound like two men who had too much to drink up there… but Harry, I think you should know that Lupin is, well… a werewolf.”

Severus spoke so low that only Harry could hear him. Harry stared at Severus in shocked silence, and then his gaze slowly drifted over to Remus, who was stumbling around with Sirius, trying to steady himself.

“This isn't the best place to discuss it,” Severus suddenly continued. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

Harry didn't pay much attention. “So… every full moon? Is—isn't there something you can give him to stop transforming?”

Severus sighed. “There is Wolfsbane Potion, but that does not stop him from transforming. It merely relieves some of the effects of lycanthropy. For instance, during the full moon when he transforms, he can retain control over his actions, but there i—”

“An'—an' this is Norm…Normy an' Erny and two other persons who's name I can't remember but it's funny. Severus! Hi, Snapey, Snapey-doo!”

“That didn't make any sense at all,” Harry said to Severus quietly. He didn't seem to notice that Sirius had cut Severus off. Severus snorted in agreement.

Suddenly music came from the speakers, and with their arms wrapped around each others' shoulders, Sirius and the rest began to sway to the music. Every one of them started to drunkenly sing to the song, except for Sirius and Remus.

“I dunno this song!” Sirius yelled over the music. Nobody paid attention to him, so he stumbled over his words, trying his best to get the words right.

“Ooh—Ooh… yeah… you're my best friend, my best—I mean… Ooh, la la… love—is it love?” Sirius yelled again, hoping for someone to answer him.

They chose to ignore him and keep on singing.

So, Sirius did what any person would do: he fell off the stage.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. Both he and Severus went over to Sirius's side as Normy and his three chums laughed hysterically at Sirius. Remus squatted and peered down over the edge of the stage at Sirius, a goofy grin appearing on his face.

“You 'kay, Paddy?”

Sirius made an unattractive noise as Severus and Harry helped him up. He swayed, holding the side of his head. He looked about ready to pass out.

“All right, we're going home,” Severus said firmly. “Lupin, come along.”

Harry helped Remus down off the stage. All four of them walked out of Joey's. The cool night breeze welcomed Harry, for it became too hot in the diner. The air was still around them, and the only sound that Harry heard were of them walking down the street, and a person or two seldomly passing them.

The sky was very dark now, so the stars stood out brightly against their background. Remus coughed beside Harry, tripping over his feet a few times, but Harry was right there beside him to catch him if he was about to fall. Sirius seemed to be just as clumsy, and practically had to grasp onto Severus's emerald robes to keep himself from falling down.

“This is the first time in many years that Black has gotten himself drunk,” Severus said to Harry, sounding irritated. “There was always a strict rule that he was never to get drunk if he was to be around us. You, especially. I didn't want you growing up in a household where one of your role model's was drunk. I was all too familiar with that when I was younger.”

“So why tonight?” Harry asked softly.

“Well, seeing as there would've been no way of really stopping him,” Severus started, hauling Sirius up off the ground, “and the fact that you're old enough to realize that drinking can almost often lead to deplorable consequences. Also, for the rest of tonight and especially tomorrow, I can definitely say that when you see the state Black and Lupin will be in, you will think twice before taking a drink of alcohol.”

Harry made a disgusted face. “Oh.”

--

It was lucky that the manor held two bathrooms the next morning, considering the fact that both Sirius and Remus spent the entire morning there.

Severus and Harry sat together eating breakfast in the dining room, where just down the hall, Sirius could be heard groaning and knocking things over as he tried to make his way to the table.

“Remus beat me to the upstairs bathroom,” he mumbled, looking horrible. “I'm so glad this house has two bathrooms. I think I'll marry it.”

Severus made a face. “Attractive children. The only reason we bought a house with two bathrooms was because you take forever with your hair. If I didn't know better I'd mistake you for a girl.”

Sirius scowled, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to retort. Severus, with a sigh, stood and walked over to Sirius, handing the man a glass of water, which he thankfully accepted.

“Getting water for me 'n' everything,” Sirius muttered, taking a huge gulp. “Euughh—thanks. This has got to be the worst hangover ever. Where's Rem?”

“Still upstairs,” Severus answered. “Just keep drinking the water, Black, it'll help.”

Sirius closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Sorry for getting drunk yesterday in front of Harry, Snape. I know we agreed none of that…”

“It's fine,” Severus answered shortly.

Suddenly Remus appeared, looking almost as bad as Sirius did.

“Ugh, this has got to be the worst hangover ever,” Remus said, taking the glass of water from Severus greatfully and taking a drink. “I feel horrible. Never, ever, ever again.”

“Here, here,” Sirius agreed, emptying his glass. “We think alike, Rem. Sorry for getting you drunk.”

Remus made a disgusted face. “No, I did it myself. Ugh… I have such a bad headache.”

“I'm surprised you even did,” Sirius said, his voice low and agonized. “A bit out of character, Rem, but hey, everyone needs to lighten up once in a while.” He gave Severus a look. “Well, not everyone, I s'pose.”

Severus scowled. “He has a hangover and yet he still insists on talking. How joyous.”

Sirius suddenly groaned. “Who turned on the damn light?”

“Language, Black,” Severus chided. “That's sunlight. Now, when you say, “everyone needs to 'lighten' up”… if, when you say 'lighten up', you mean getting drunk…” Severus trailed off and shook his head disapprovingly.

“I didn't mean it like that,” Sirius snapped. “Just stop talking please, okay? Your voice is too loud and it's killing my head.”

“Here, here,” Remus said unenthusiastically, putting his head in his hands with a groan. “Worse than the Cruciatus, I'd imagine.”

Sirius suddenly let out a loud moan and practically ran from the room. Faintly, Harry heard a bang, and realized that Sirius once again was occupying the downstairs bathroom. Remus suddenly paled, muttering something about Sirius taking the downstairs bathroom as he fled from the room and was heard stumbling up the stairs.

“I hope Lupin doesn't miss the bathroom,” Severus said said, looking unpleased at the thought. “I do not want to be cleaning anything up.”

--

“Severus, I expect you'll be here a while with Sirius and Remus, right?” Harry questioned a little later curiously. Remus and Sirius were upstairs laying on their beds, whereas Harry and Severus had remained in the dining room, making conversation.

“That's probable,” Severus agreed. “Why?”

Harry, though, had already stood up and was searching for his shoes.

“Well, I was thinking I'd go out for a little bit,” he explained hesitantly, looking up to see Severus's reaction as he was about to put on his second shoe.

“Go out?” Severus echoed, almost sounding confused. “By yourself? Is there a reason?”

Harry shrugged, straightening up. “I dunno, aren't I allowed?”

“Well of course,” Severus answered immediately. “You are hardly being held prisoner here… I'm just, admittedly, a little startled.”

“Startled? Why?”

“I can't really explain it,” said Severus, frowning. “I think… there's a good chance… that I might feel a bit nervous about you going out by yourself, too. What are you going to do?”

Harry smiled warmly. “You don't need to be nervous, I'll be fine. I just want to get to know the town a little better than I have with the times you and Sirius have gone out with me. I am going to be living here now, after all.”

Severus nodded slowly. “If you see anyone you do not know, and they speak to you, try to form a sentence that does not require their name, unless somehow it is given to you.”

Harry laughed. “I'll try my best, and I won't be out too long.”

Harry left the dining room and made his way to the doors. Harry stepped out onto the threshold, closing the door behind him carefully. He let out a sigh as he gazed at everything in front of him.

Now, where would the library be…?

--

It didn't take Harry long to find the library. Naturally, it was a big building with the sign on the front in huge letters reading, 'MAHON HOLLOW LIBRARY'. Not many people that he passed on the street greeted him in anyway, and the ones that did, he merely waved and said brightly, “Good morning.”

The librarian at the library seemed awfully happy to see Harry walk into her library. Apparently, the other Harry tried to stay away from libraries as much as he could. Harry wasn't very fond of them either, but it was necessary this time.

Harry began to browse through the rows of books and was about to pull one out to investigate it when a cheerful voice behind him made him jump.

“Hi, Harry.”

Harry turned around. A young boy, probably around twelve, stood behind him. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was wearing a friendly smile.

“Er—hi.”

“It's been a long time since I last saw you,” the boy continued. “How's your school going?”

Harry hoped desperately that he would not need to know this boy's name.

“It's… fine.”

The boy nodded. “That's great. Whatcha lookin' for?”

Harry faltered. The boy looked over the books on the shelf in front of them, narrowing his eyes as he tried to read each title.

“I forgot my glasses at home,” the boy said, explaining his need to squint. “Why're you looking at books on animals?” He eyed the book Harry held in his hands. He grinned. “Werewolves? Blimey, Harry, are you turning into a werewolf?”

“N—no,” Harry answered nervously. “Just… curious.”

“Well.” The boy puffed out his chest, trying to look intelligent. “It just so happens I love reading about werewolves. They're my favorite creature.”

Harry put the book back, raising his eyebrows in interest.

“So you know a lot about werewolves?”

The boy nodded. “Of course I do. What do you need to know?”

“How do you cure one?” Harry asked quickly. “Is there any way to actually cure a werewolf? Or… or somehow make it so they don't have to transform every full moon?”

The boy laughed loudly, causing every single person in the library to jump and look over at the two in alarm and annoyance. Harry turned a bright red, looking away as the librarian yelled to them, “Benjamin! Quiet or I'll have to kick you out!”

Benjamin, Harry thought happily. His name was Benjamin.

Ben quickly quieted, turning red himself. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It's just… you know werewolves aren't real?”

“Of course,” said Harry immediately. “I'm just… writing.”

“Writing?” Ben repeated, looking interested. “A book?”

“Something like that,” Harry lied. “I just wanted to research on werewolves and how to cure them…”

“Well.” Ben looked thoughtful, leading Harry over to an empty table where they sat down. “Do you have paper and something to write with? It'd be better than having to remember everything.”

“Er… I don't,” Harry admitted, but Ben seemed to already know the answer in advance, and was making his way over to the librarians desk, where he was most likely asking for paper and a pen.

“All right,” Ben said as he sat back down and placed the two items in front of Harry. “Well, the most easiest thing is that werewolves are vulnerable to silver bullets.”

Harry shook his head. “You see, I don't want to kill him. It. In my book.”

Ben frowned, tapping his finger lightly on the table. “Well, there's always power of exhaustion.” At Harry's blank look, he elaborated. “Oh, y'know! Whoever the werewolf was, the Ancient Greeks and Romans would sorta… make them do physical activity a really long time, hoping that they'd rid it of the condition.”

Harry bit his lip, shaking his head. “I don't think that would work.”

“What about the other one I read about a while ago?” Ben suggested. “They uhm… did something medically, surgically or they did an exorcism.”

Harry stared. “I—I don't think so. Couldn't there, I dunno, be some type of potion to cure it or something?”

“A potion? Like the one witches brew?” Ben laughed quietly. “Well, if it's in your story, I guess we could research some ingredients that could be used.”

“Maybe mixed with the Wolfsbane Potion,” Harry murmured, more to himself than to Ben, but Ben heard him.

“Wolfbone Lotion? What's that?” Ben made a face. “Sounds like a lotion Mum would use. It's got Wolf in the name and everything… you know she's not the prettiest lady, and she's got an awful temper if you remember last time you came around… but even so,” Ben continued, “I still love her.”

“It's nothing,” Harry said. “Where do you think we could find books on that stuff?”

“Already ahead of you,” Ben said cheerfully, and in the next second he was up and gone. Harry waited, craning his neck to see if he could spot Ben somewhere between the rows of stands of books. It was a couple minutes later when Ben finally returned with a medium-sized book in his hands. He set it on the table, and before Harry even had time to read the cover, Ben opened the book and began browsing through it.

“Hm… there's nothing so far… you might want to get your pen ready though so you're able to write it all down if I find stuff,” Ben said. He paused, flipping the page. “There's the, uh, arrowleaf clover. The white one. It says it can be used for personal purification… getting rid of evil influences… I s'pose a werewolf could be evil.”

Harry considered it, then scribbled what Ben said down. “Arrowleaf clover?”

“Right. And then, right here, the name is Astragalus. For healing, protection, hex breaking, purification… I'd be more concerned with the purification. You know, purifying this person of the werewolf they transform into?”

“Right,” Harry muttered as he wrote that down, too. He peered over the book to see how it was written. “Anything else that could be useful?”

“Not so far. Things that could be used for love… healing a broken heart. Luck and wealth. Oh, what about Burdock? Strength of character, purification. We could use a lot of purification, couldn't we?”

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed.

“Echinecea? E… however you pronounce that. Healing and protection. Don't you think your person would need healing, especially the werewolf inside of it? And protection, well, protection against the werewolf inside of it.”

“How do you spell that?” Harry asked, frowning. Ben slid the book over, and Harry quickly copied it.

“You're even putting what each of them do?” Ben asked, watching as Harry wrote. “Do you need more or d'you think this would be good enough?”

“We might as well go through the whole book,” Harry suggested as he finished writing. “Just in case.”

“All right. You want a go? I can write.”

Harry agreed, sliding the paper and pen over to Ben as he pulled the book closer to him.

“What about Eucalyptus?” Harry asked after he read the paragraph over. “Personal cleansing after contact with evil.”

“The werewolf could be evil,” Ben finished in agreement. “If I don't get the spelling right you'll still know what I meant. Personal cleansing after meeting with evil or something like that, right?”

“Sure,” Harry said, turning the page of the book as he skimmed through the words.

“Toadflax,” Ben suddenly said as he, too, started to skim through the pages with his eyes after pushing his chair closer to the book. “Protection and hex breaking.”

“But it wasn't exactly a hex that made him a werewolf,” Harry said distractedly.

“Good point,” Ben concurred. Harry flipped through a few more pages. “Wolfsbane,” Ben said, pointing to it in the book. “That's perfect, mainly all you need! See? It says, 'Aconite is used to cure werewolves of their affliction.' But… isn't that the description for Wolfsbane, though?”

“I think it might be just another name for it,” Harry said distractedly, pointing that out in the book to Ben. “It seems it's not quite as easy as that though…”

Ben looked momentarily confused, and then disappointed as Harry reached the last page.

“Well, that's it. Blimey, you have quite a list, Harry! How's this going to work in your story?”

“I dunno yet,” Harry said, wanting to avoid the conversation about his 'story'. “I'll manage, though.”

Ben stood up with Harry, closing the book gently. “Is it a boy werewolf or a girl werewolf?”

“A boy,” Harry answered uncertainly. “Look, thanks a lot for your help with this, Ben, I appreciate it. I actually need to go now, or Severus will get worried. You know. So…”

Ben frowned, staring at Harry in blatant confusion.

“Severus? Since when have you started calling your dad Severus?”

Harry swallowed, gathering up the paper and carefully folding it to put in his jeans pocket. “Well… recently, actually. S—Sirius wagered that I wouldn't be able to go a—a month calling Severus…Severus without slipping and calling him Da—the 'D' word.”

Would Ben believe that? Harry waited unpatiently, nervously, as it seemed that Ben took hours to finally answer.

“That sounds like something he would do,” Ben said, nodding his head and smiling. “Will I see you around before you go back to your boarding school?”

“M—maybe,” Harry said, returning Ben's smile. “Look, I really have to go. I'll see you!”

Harry was in such a rush to get back to the manor, he barely even heard the librarian get after him on his way by for running.

--

Harry must've ran all the way back to the house, but he wasn't paying attention to that. He was too focused on what he had achieved at the library.

The door slammed shut behind him, letting everyone in the house know that he was home. Harry took the paper out of his pocket, unfolding it and wandering around curiously, wondering where everyone was. It was likely that Sirius and Remus were still upstairs, but would Severus be up there, too?

Harry didn't have to look much farther, for Severus appeared in the foyer, probably coming out of the lounge. He eyed the paper in Harry's hand curiously.

“I've been thinking,” Harry started off, his voice loud in the quiet house even though he didn't speak loudly. “Ever since you told me that Remus was a werewolf. What if—well, what if you mixed something else with the Wolfsbane Potion?” Harry held up the paper. “That's why I went to the library. To do some research, and—and look at these ingredients. If we make a potion out of this, and then add it to the Wolfsbane Potion, then surely it could do… something.”

Severus looked over the things written on the paper.

“It would certainly do something,” said Severus. “That something would, without a doubt, be killing him. You wouldn't go mixing these ingredients with the Wolfsbane Potion; you don't know what it could do to the drinker. Besides, Harry—”

“But there's a good chance it could work!” Harry insisted. “I don't want to kill Remus, but I want to try!” At Severus's strange look, Harry realized what he said. “No, no, I mean I want to try to see if it could help cure him!”

Severus shook his head. “It's too dangerous… and Harry—”

Harry sighed loudly. “Can't we just try though, Sev? Why not? If there was only something we could test it on first… But look at this, Severus, look at these ingredients! Most are for purification, which is good, because it could purify Remus of the werewolf he turns into.”

“Can't you understand, Harry, that it is something that is risky to make? Especially for Remus to take, that is equally risky,” Severus said. “Now, if you'll just let me—”

“But you won't even try!” Harry yelled, feeling angry and hurt that after all he had done to try and help, Severus wouldn't even consider it. Of course, he knew that Severus was right… he just didn't want to admit it. He wanted to stay hopeful.

“Because. Of. The. Risks.” Severus said each word deliberately slowly.

Harry threw the paper on the ground before Severus could say anything more, and walked passed Severus and up the staircase, making sure he stomped on each stair loudly.

“I can't believe you won't even try!”

A few more loud, angry steps and then… a pause… and a loud slam. Severus winced as Harry slammed the door to his room shut.

Then, it was quiet again.

Severus forgot how much fun it was to be a parent at that moment. He sighed, slowly walking over to where the paper lay on the ground. He picked it up and inspected it again.

Harry didn't even let him say that there was already a series of potions that werewolves took that cured lycanthropy. It had been created almost three years ago…

Severus sighed once more.

It was lunch, and Harry still didn't come out of his room. Severus had waited for Harry to cool off a bit before he went up to try and talk to the boy, but even after the time Severus gave him, Harry still didn't want to talk to him.

Around that time, Sirius and Remus were also feeling much better than they had before, and Severus was able to fill them in on what happened.

“That was very nice of him to do that,” Remus said quietly, looking down at the paper in his hands. “This all looks really impressive. Did you tell him about the cure, though, Severus?”

“I was going to,” Severus said. “I wanted to tell him face-to-face but he has yet to open his door to me.”

Sirius and Remus followed Severus up to Harry's bedroom this time, standing by quietly as Severus knocked twice on Harry's door.

“Harry, will you talk to me now?”

There was silence, and then, “No!”

“Come on, kid,” Sirius said in a soft voice. “Severus just wants to talk to you. Why don't you open up, Harry?”

Silence, again, and then—“Leave me alone.”

“Your lunch is getting cold,” Sirius reminded him. Of course, Severus had given up earlier as he tried to get Harry downstairs for lunch and decided to start without the boy. Remus and Sirius had joined, but it was definitely one quiet meal.

“I'm not hungry, thanks.”

Sirius sighed. “Do you want us to put it by your door so you can get it when you want it?”

There was a muffled answer, which sounded very much like a “Yes,” so with a nod of his head Sirius said, “I'll go bring it up. Try some more.”

Severus knocked again. “Open the door up, Harry, this is ridiculous. You never gave me a chance to finish either. I was going to say—”

“I'm sorry but—but I don't want to hear it!” Harry interrupted loudly, his voice cracking. “Can't you just leave me alone for a bit?”

“Maybe we should just leave him be,” Remus suggested. “He will come out on his own time, when he wants to. Before, Harry had always done that. There's a good chance it could be the same this time.”

Sirius came back towards them, carrying a tray of food. Severus stepped back away from the door and allowed Sirius to place the tray in front of it. “He still not coming out of his room yet?” Sirius asked.

Severus shook his head.

“Come on, Harry,” Sirius called. “Severus only wants to talk to you. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Because I don't want to talk to anybody,” Harry said.

Sirius shook his head. “I know you're just trying to respect Harry, Snape, but I think we should just open the door ourselves.”

And with that, Sirius reached out and twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open. He stepped carefully over the food and went inside the room with Severus close behind. There was a sigh from Harry, and he sat up in his bed, putting a pillow on his lap and letting his elbows rest on that as he looked at the three men.

“You never let me finish,” Severus said, staring at Harry intensely. “Will you let me speak now?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“What I was trying to tell you before,” Severus said slowly, “was that a potion to cure lycanthropy is unnecessary, because a cure has already been discovered. A few years ago, to be exact.”

Harry's mouth fell open. “What?”

Remus nodded. “Yes. Severus helped with the potions. A man by the name of Arcturus Corvus… he was quite old, he'd also retired from the Ministry…. Died a year later.”

Harry stared in disbelief, so Remus continued explaining.

“For two years the person had to take a series of potions before the full moon, each one tasting even more horrible than the last, but only on that one night. For the first year the transformation lessened... that night you'd still have your human mind, although you transformed into the wolf… and then, almost before the year was over, you wouldn't transform altogether. The second year you were to take the potions again, and that sort of made it permanent.”

“Hasn't transformed during the full moon since,” Sirius said, beaming. “Once the Ministry approved it, and made sure that it worked and there would be no side effects or anything like that, every werewolf was lining up for them.”

Harry turned a dull shade of pink, avoiding anyone's eye.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted. I'm just… sorry…”

Severus walked over and sat down on the bed next to Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I realize you were hurt, after the effort you put into your list at the library. I tried to tell you about that when we were downstairs, but you chose to not listen to me,” Severus said. “I believe I was even interrupted a few times.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled again, his eyes still downcast. “Next time I won't interrupt and I'll listen.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You plan for there to be a 'next time'?”

“Well—you know what I mean,” Harry said, finally lifting his eyes to look at Severus. “If there is a next time, is all, I guess.”

“All right,” Severus said as he stood up. “Would you like to remain in here, Harry, or do you want to come downstairs and have your lunch before it turns completely cold?”

“I'll choose the second option,” Harry said, jumping up quickly to go over to his doorway and picking up the tray. “Do you think we could do another potion today, Severus?”

“If you feel up to it,” Severus said, walking into the hall as Sirius and Remus followed.

“Harry, I have a question,” Sirius spoke up suddenly, causing Harry to stop at the top of the staircase. “Did you do all that research by yourself? And did anyone that you didn't know the name of stop and talk to you?”

“Well…” Harry started, turning around. “A few people just said hi to me across the street, but they didn't stop me and start up a conversation, and someone by the name of Ben actually helped with the research.”

“Ben Cleaver!” Sirius said, nodding his head in recognition. “He's your… well, friend. They moved here when you—Harry—were five.”

Harry started down the staircase, asking, “Is there anyone else I need to know about?”

Sirius and Severus exhanged glances as they became quiet, to think. Sirius said, “There's Edmund. Edmund Heaton… but I haven't seen him around lately.”

Severus nodded. “Dylan Hawley.”

“Yes, Dylan Hawley. Bobby Roderick, too.”

Harry glanced back. “Anyone else?”

“What about that Walter one?” Remus spoke up.

“He moved,” Sirius answered, walking into the dining room to take his seat again. Remus sat down next to him. “Remember? He had that big party… you got hit on by that dishy girl?” Remus looked at Sirius blankly. “Oh, you know! The one… she, uh… every other word that came out of her mouth was 'blooming'! Don't you remember?”

Remus blushed. “Oh, her. I forgot about her.”

“That's all right,” said Sirius. “She was a little daft anyway.”

“So that's it?” Harry asked cautiously, waiting for the three to throw anymore names at him.

“Not really,” Sirius admitted. “But that's enough for now. Hey… Harry… d'you think you're going to eat that treacle pudding? Nome makes the best treacle puddings.”

Remus groaned. “Can't you let Harry eat in peace?”

“I agree with Lupin,” Severus said dryly.

“Here,” Harry said, grinning as he tossed Sirius an apple. “You can have that.”

Sirius gaped down at the round, red apple in his hand, and then looked back up at Harry in disbelief. “An apple? W—what about that yummy treacle pudding?”

Harry tried to hide his grin as he glanced down at the treacle pudding on a small plate.

“It's my dessert.”

“I never had any at all.” Sirius pouted. “Snape ate all of it. Remus only got one.”

At the other end of the table, Severus snorted.

“I ate all of the treacle pudding, did I?” he said. “I don't think so, Black. I think, however, I might have caught you stuffing five down your throat? Lupin, am I right?”

“We-e-ell.” Remus hesitated as he glanced over at Sirius. “Four, at least.”

“Listen to them!” Sirius breathed, looking appalled. “Teaming up against me! I knew one day it would happen… I just knew it.”

Harry grinned as with a disgusted look, Sirius slowly brought the apple up to his lips and hesitantly took a small bite out of it. He looked as if he was eating some type of unappetizing, contaminated vegetable.

--

Severus and Harry had successfully completed another potion later that day—the Babbling Beverage. Although Harry still had assistance from Severus like the last time they did a potion, Severus had promised that tomorrow Harry could try another potion on his own and with very little assitance. Only when he requested for it.

Sirius had gone out, accompanied by Remus, to the Hall again. The town wanted to take pictures of the cast to put in their local newspaper. Apparently, though Sally had originally been Juliet, they wanted Sirius instead, since Sirius had actually gone through and performed the entire play.

Well, bits and pieces of it anyway.

The thing that had bothered Sirius the most about getting that picture taken was the fact that he had to put the itchy wig back on as well as the gown.

Harry also found out that Mrs. Flynn (Maddie's next-door neighbor) had caught the entire play on a video tape recorder and would gladly give them a copy. Sirius seemed a little excited about the fact that he would be on the telly—but was also rather embarrassed about his performance, though he continued to deny it.

It was late that night, hours after Severus had come in to say goodnight to Harry. Harry lay asleep in his bed, when suddenly his eyes snapped open and he sat up, peering around his room, although he couldn't see anything: he wasn't wearing his glasses, and his room was pitch black.

There was a funny feeling in his stomach. It was fluttery, and he tingled. He didn't know whether it was his feet that was tingling, his hands, his stomach or anything—he just knew that he was tingling.

Trying to push the feeling away, Harry settled back down on his pillow and closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep. The feeling, however, wouldn't go away, and somehow, Harry ended up falling asleep.

Did he? The next time Harry woke up it was daylight, and he could distinctly hear Sirius tripping over something downstairs. It seemed as if he had just woke up for the first time less than half an hour ago, when it was still the middle of the night. Harry shook his head, feeling… different, in a way. Funny.

Harry yawned, and stretched, pulling the covers off and placing his feet on the cold floor. He reached over and picked up his glasses off the nightstand, rubbing his eyes sleepily and then putting his glasses on his nose.

Harry blinked quite a few times, trying to get his eyes to stay open. He put his hands in his lap, glancing around the room before he finally let his eyes rest down upon his lap before he was going to stand up and go downstairs for breakfast.

And Harry let out a loud, startled scream.

Harry started to have trouble breathing. He looked at his hand, turning it over to stare at what was happening. His hand shook terribly, and his heartbeat began to quicken with each second. How was this happening? He was… he was…

Was what exactly? The only thing that came to mind was…

Disappearing. He was disappearing.

Harry's fingers had now vanished. Half of them, anyway. His finger, right down to his middle joint had disappeared… but, as Harry watched closely, he saw that even his middle joint was slowly, slowly starting to vanish as well.

That didn't help. What was happening to him?

A strangled noise escaped from Harry's mouth. He nervously glanced down at his feet and saw, to his horror, that his toes had even vanished as well.

That's when Harry, at the top of his lungs, yelled, “Dad!”

It didn't take long for Harry's door to open, revealing Severus, Sirius and Remus, looking startled. Especially Severus.

“Someone yelled Dad,” Sirius said in disbelief, standing behind Severus looking at the back of his head. Harry didn't pay attention. Shakily, he stood, holding his hands up to the three.

“What's happening to me?” Harry croaked, feeling a lump form in his throat. “I'm… disappearing… why?”

Severus stared, looking pale. No one spoke.

“Your toes, too,” Remus said quietly, looking horrified. He looked over at Sirius, who was speechless and still staring at Severus, whilst glancing over at Harry as well.

Harry didn't know what to do. He was shaking, completely scared. He took a few hesitant steps forward, his eyes glued on his disappearing hands. He held them out, as if not wanting to be near them. Then, he slowly lifted his eyes and stared at Severus, dropping his left hand down to his eyes as he extended his right.

He gently placed his hand on Severus's cheek.

It was almost as though somebody had cut Harry's fingers off right down to the middle joint. He wasn't turning invisible, because even if his fingers were there, but invisible, Harry would feel them touch Severus's cheek.

The fingers that were gone didn't touch Severus's cheek. His fingers didn't even go through the flesh, as if maybe he was turning into a ghost. The only thing that touched Severus's cheek was Harry's middle joint.

Harry immediately recoiled his hand, a new look of horror crossing his face.

“It's like my fingers have completely vanished,” Harry whispered, staring back down at his hands. “They didn't even touch you.”

“I don't understand,” Sirius finally said, his voice cracking. “Come here, Harry.”

Harry didn't move. He seemed hypnotized by his disappearing fingers. So, Sirius went towards Harry, looking at the boys' hand in awe. With a shaky hand of his own, Sirius took Harry's hand and brought it up to his own cheek.

Sure enough, the only bit of flesh and bone that gently touched his own flesh was Harry's middle joint. The rest of his finger was just simply not there.

Harry roughly pulled his hand away from Sirius, taking multiple steps backward. He looked at each man in front of him nervously, unable to form a sentence. He seemed to have lost his voice.

“What do I do?” Harry asked in a terrified whisper. “What's happening to me? Is it… could… could it be because…”

“Because?” Severus prompted, trying to not look at Harry's disappearing hand.

“Because I don't belong here?” Harry finally finished, his voice still barely audible. “Am I disappearing because… I don't belong here… so it's going to send me back? I mean I don't think I ate anything, and when we were in your lab I didn't spill any potions on me or anything! It's the only thing I can think of.”

“No,” Severus said firmly. “That can't be it. It won't send you back, it—” Severus stopped himself before he got any further. He had to think realistically, and that was a realistic possibility.

“We don't know that for a fact,” Sirius said, getting his voice back. “But there's no other explanation.”

Harry sat back on his bed, defeated. “Well, then that's it, I guess. Soon I'll be back in my old reality. I knew it was too good to be true.”

They stayed quiet until Sirius, resembling Sally during the night of Romeo and Juliet, stamped his foot on the floor loudly.

“We can't just give up like that!” Sirius exclaimed, scowling. “It's not going to happen!”

“I agree with Sirius,” Severus said softly, causing Sirius's mouth to fall open, and not by the fact that Severus had used his first name, either. They were, after all, used to the rare slips.

He was gaping because Severus had actually agreed with him.

“That doesn't happen very often,” Sirius muttered out loud.

“It's true, we cannot give up,” Severus said. “So, I suggest we give Dumbledore a visit. Get dressed, Harry.”

--

If Dumbledore had been surprised by Harry, Severus, Sirius and Remus's sudden, unexpected visit, he did not show it. With a warm smile he had the four sit down.

“How can I help you, gentlemen?”

Severus looked over at Harry, who had stuffed his hands into his jeans pocket. He gave Harry a look, and biting his lip, Harry slowly pulled out his hands and showed them to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore stared, looking concerned as he inspected Harry's hands through his spectacles.

“Oh, my,” he spoke, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You know about the incantation that brought Harry here. Who invented it?”

The question came out before Severus knew it. But of course, someone had to invent that incantation, it could not have just been created by thin air.

“The inventor,” said Dumbledore thoughtfully. “Yes, yes… a warlock, residing in Ireland. I do believe he goes by the name of Fornacis Althen. I do not know what he named that particular incantation, but it was created many, many years ago.”

“So he's powerful,” Sirius stated.

Dumbledore nodded. “Only powerful warlocks can create equally powerful incantations.”

“Where, exactly, in Ireland?” Severus questioned while Harry looked up at him in confusion. He did not explain to Harry just precisely what his plans were.

“Belfast, Ireland.” Dumbledore frowned, puzzled. “Why, Severus?”

Severus looked down to where Harry was standing as he spoke. “Harry and I have something we need to discuss with Mr Fornacis Althen.”

--

“I don't understand,” Harry said as they Flooed back to the Manor, frowning. “Did Sirius say 'Slack' Manor?”

“Yes, it was Black's idea.” Severus grumbled, sitting on the couch as Sirius, across the room, grinned. “I say Snape Manor, no matter how much Black tries to get me to use the other.”

“Snape and Black put together,” Sirius pointed out proudly. “Both Slack and Snape work.”

“Listen, Harry,” Severus said as Harry sat next to him. “We're going to Ireland before you disappear completely. There's a good chance that there's a… cure…”

“Severus—”

“No,” Severus interrupted. “No. Black, I want you and Lupin to remain here.”

“You're kidding!” Sirius yelled, scowling. “There's no bloody way I'm staying here while you go off to Ireland to try and keep Harry! Blimey, Snape, are you off your trolley?”

“You need to,” Severus said, still looking irritated. “If someone comes by and we're unexpectedly gone, you know how the town was when they didn't see any of us after I returned from Hogwarts. They'd pester us to know where we've been, though it's none of their business.”

“We took a vacation to Ireland!” Sirius said. “People take vacations all the time, Snape!”

Severus gave Sirius a long, hard look until Sirius finally gave in with a sigh.

“Fine,” he snapped. “We'll keep watch over the house and everything else while you're gone. Just try and get there before Harry disappears altogether. Will you Floo?”

“We would, but it could be unexpected since he's a warlock. I think the safest way to get there is the way muggles travel.”

Sirius nodded, pacing the room. “Make sure you get back before Harry has to get his things for Hogwarts and everything.”

Severus avoided Sirius's eye as he gave a sharp nod. He hoped there was something that could be done to prevent any more of Harry from disappearing so he could actually get the chance to return to Hogwarts…

--

Considering that all of Harry's luggage—which had his clothes—were somewhere back in his other reality, including his suitcase, Harry had the other Harry's clothes (which Harry couldn't help but find a little strange for some reason) and the suitcase, so he really had no trouble packing, except for the fact that he had no idea how long he and Severus were going to be. Even Severus didn't know.

So far, Harry's middle joints were still showing, so not much had disappeared since he realized that he was vanishing in the first place, and not much of his feet were disappearing either. Harry was relieved that the vanishing wasn't all happening rapidly, at least this gave him time.

Harry pulled his luggage down the staircase much later that day. As the suitcase hit each step he went down it created a loud thunk which echoed throughout the foyer. Down by the doors stood Sirius and Remus along with Severus, who was looking prepared and determined.

“I'm ready,” Harry said as he reached the last step. He wheeled the suitcase towards the three, wondering why Sirius was looking so strange. Tilting his head, he asked, “You okay?”

Sirius shrugged it off. “Fine, fine… just the first time I'm not included in a vacation of some type. We always went places together, you see… I've never been to Ireland…”

Severus looked exasperated. “You know this isn't a vacation, Black. We're not going sight-seeing or anything like that.”

“Just going into Ireland itself is sight-seeing because you're seeing Ireland,” Sirius insisted. “Merlin help me if I'm feeling a little bit left out.”

Severus opened the door a crack.

“You know where everything is if we take a long time to return,” Severus said to Sirius. “Black's food? You may need to change his litter box, as well.”

“At least he can go up and down the stairs now,” Sirius said. “Yes, I know where all of that is.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at Sirius. “You won't burn down the house while I'm gone?”

Sirius put on a hurt look. “I wouldn't burn the house down. After all these years and you still don't trust me? My, my.”

“I didn't say you'd do it purposefully,” Severus muttered. “You think you'll have everything you'll need food-wise?”

“Yes.” Sirius nodded his head. “I think we have everything, Snape. Are you going to stand in the doorway all day long…?”

“You have Nome as well,” Severus said suddenly. “So you don't need to cook. At all.”

Sirius scowled. “Thanks. Are you—?”

“Yes,” Severus snapped. “We're leaving.”

“How are we getting there?” Harry asked before he stepped outside. “We don't have a car or anything.”

“I arranged transportation,” explained Severus. “Mrs Cleaver was kind enough to agree to take us to the closest airport.”

“Airport,” Harry repeated in disbelief. “We're flying? I've never been on a plane before. Wow. Wait—Mrs Cleaver? So fast? But… I mean… how?”

“While you were packing Sirius went over and asked. Now,”—Severus motioned irritably to the open door—“can we leave?”

“Yeah.” Harry looked at Sirius and smiled. “Bye, Sirius. I really hope I'll see you again soon.” He turned his head to smile and Remus. “You too, Remus.”

“Bye Harry,” Sirius said quietly, smiling faintly. “Bye, Sugarpie.”

Severus scowled. “I dearly hope you are not referring to me. Goodbye, Black, Lupin. Please, do not burn down the house—keep on eye on him, Lupin.”

Remus nodded as Severus and Harry walked out the door amd closed it gently behind them. He looked over to Sirius, saying, “I hope they're successful in Ireland.”

Sirius frowned, looking around the empty house sadly. “I'm bored.”

--

“So, Ireland,” Mrs Cleaver said excitedly, glancing at Harry and Severus in the backseat through her mirror. She smiled widely. “Care to take me along with you?” To prove that she was joking, she laughed loudly.

Ben, in the seat next to his mother, twisted his body around to look at the two behind him.

“Why didn't you tell me you were going to Ireland, Harry?” Ben asked. “All we did was talk about the werewolf stuff!”

Harry laughed weakly. “This just happened on short notice.”

“Why isn't Sirius going with you?”

“He… is hanging out with Remus,” Harry lied awkwardly, inwardly wincing. Could he not come up with anything more cleverer than that?

Ben's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked at Harry. “You're kidding! He'd rather hang out than go to Ireland?”

“He's scared of planes!” Harry said suddenly, the thought striking him just then. “That's the way we're going there. On a plane. He couldn't go.”

“Oh.” Ben turned around again and settled into his seat. “I wish I could go to Ireland. It'd be fun.”

“Maybe someday, Benny,” his mother said gently.

“Mother!” Ben said, sounding shocked as he looked back at the two in the backseat. “Please don't call me Benny!”

Mrs Cleaver seemed to realize her mistake. She ran a hand through her rough-looking dark hair and looked over at her son apologetically.

“Terribly sorry, Benjamin Cleaver. Is that good enough for you, hon?”

Ben crossed his arms, mumbling, “Ben would be fine, Mother, even Benjamin. Not Benny, though—I bet Harry doesn't have an embarrassing nickname by Severus. I doubt Edmund does either!”

Harry pressed his lips together as he grinned. “It's all right, Ben. Sirius used to call me… uhm—”

“He called you his firefly when we were younger,” Ben said, turning around again to look at Harry as he spoke. “Remember? You always wanted to be a firefly; Severus called you his little green eyes, 'cause of your eyes and… well, you were little… I think he still calls you that sometimes, but that's not too embarrassing! Benny is definitely more embarrassing than that, I… think. A little.”

“Benny isn't embarrassing,” Mrs Cleaver said with a laugh. “You just think it is because your mother calls you that. If it was your girlfriend and she called you Benny, you wouldn't mind so much.”

Ben blushed as he looked out his window. “That's not true.”

“Am I right, Severus?” Ben's mother asked, looking in the mirror to glance at the man in the backseat, who didn't look thrilled to be included in the conversation.

“Indeed,” he answered shortly. “Though, Benjamin, you will be no doubt pleased to learn that little green eyes and firefly were not the only nickname given to Harry. If I remember correctly, there was also Harry Cottontail.”

Harry stared at Severus in disbelief.

Ben laughed. “Harry Cottontail? Why?”

Severus glanced at Harry, smirking before he spoke. “Harry, when he was younger, took a ball of cotton and taped it to his behind.”

Harry turned a deep shade of red as the two in the front laughed. Though it was not exactly this Harry who Severus was talking about, in a way it was, which made Harry just as embarrassed.

“Benny isn't so bad,” Ben finally said as the laughter died down. “Hey, how long until we reach the airport?”

“Ten more minutes or so,” Mrs Cleaver said, glancing at the clock in the car. “It doesn't take too long to get there. Have you ever been on a plane before, you two?”

“This will be the first time for both of us,” Severus replied, glancing at Harry, who nodded in agreement.

“Are you looking forward to it? I've always loved flying.”

Forgetting what they were talking about for a minute, Harry nodded his head eagerly. “Oh, yeah, I love flying too.”

Ben frowned as he turned around in his seat again.

“I thought it was your first time on a plane?”

Harry inwardly winced. They weren't talking about brooms, how could he forget? Quickly, he said, “I just meant, the idea of flying… I—I love it.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ben nodded. “I think I've been on a plane… maybe twice, Mum?”

“Mmhm.” Mrs Cleaver nodded. “Look, the airport's just up there. Do you want Ben and I to go see you off?”

“Oh no, that's quite all right,” Severus said quickly. “There's no need, but thank you.”

“Okay.”

It was silent until Mrs Cleaver pulled the car to the front of the entrance, where she parked it and unbuckled her seatbelt to get out of the car and help the two with their luggage.

“Well, I hope you have a great time in Ireland,” she said as she closed the trunk after they got their suitcases. “Er—Harry, dear, why do you have your hands in your pockets? Won't it be difficult wheeling your suitcase—?”

“He hurt his hands earlier,” Severus said quickly. “They're still stinging a bit. I'll take his suitcase.”

“Hope you have fun in Ireland,” Ben said glumly. He didn't bother stepping out of the car, but stuck his head out the window. “Will Sirius be all right by himself?”

“Ben,” his mother said disapprovingly. “Sirius is a grown man. I'm sure he can look after himself!”

Although, she did look worried.

“Sirius has Remus to look after him,” Harry informed them with a grin. He glanced up at Severus. “Er—I think we should go before we miss our flight.”

“Of course,” Mrs Cleaver said. “Have fun!”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. He made an agonized face over a thought. “I hope you get there safe and that your plane doesn't crash either. That would be horrible, wouldn't it?”

Not knowing how to reply, Severus and Harry merely said thank-you again before walking into the airport.

Outside had been warm, a little muggy, actually, so it was a surprise when they were unexpectedly greeted by a blast of freezing cold air as soon as they entered the airport. Harry shivered slightly, rubbing his exposed arms before he realized his hands were visible to everyone. He quickly shoved them back into his pockets.

The airport was crowded with people coming and going. The smell of food from the cafeteria nearby could be detected in the air.

“I feel lazy with you taking our suitcases while I have my hands in my pockets,” Harry confessed, glancing at people who would walk by them every so often.

“It is not your fault,” Severus pointed out. “It's not as if you could go around walking with gloves on in the middle of summer.”

“Well, I could.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Your hands would be sweating in gloves. If you haven't noticed, it's fairly warm out.”

Harry sighed. “I know, I know.”

--

It would take one hour and twenty minutes to get to Belfast—then, once they arrived there, they had to find somewhere to stay and then look for Fornacis Althen. Which could be difficult. Harry realized that they should have located where he lived before they left, but Harry also realized that they didn't have much time, considering he was, well, disappearing. Already his middle joint had fully disappeared and soon he would have no fingers left.

Harry and Severus boarded the plane, finding their seats without much difficulty. Harry chose the window seat, finding himself anxious to be in the air.

“I think you can take your hands out of your pockets now,” Severus said in a low voice as he leaned over to Harry to speak. “Not many people will be able to see your hands, but do make sure you don't make them too visible to everyone else. Just keep them on your lap.”

“Good, they're getting a little sweaty,” Harry said, removing his hands and placing them down on his lap, looking around nervously. “People won't be looking down at my lap anyway, right? You're blocking the view of my hands, too, so… that's good…. Sev, maybe I should keep them in my pockets. Just in case.”

“You'll be fine,” Severus said soothingly. “Just don't wave your hands around.”

“What if we don't get this fixed?” Harry asked quietly. “I disappear completely. Then what? Do I go back to my other reality or… or what?”

“That's what we're going to Ireland to find out,” Severus pointed out. Before he could get another word in, however, Harry let out a yelp.

“What was that?” he asked loudly, his eyes wide.

“Turbulence, dear,” an elderly lady beside Severus said, leaning forward to look at Harry as she spoke. “Are you a nervous flyer?”

Harry settled in his seat, frowning. “No, I'm a great flyer. Just… not used to flying by planes.”

The lady's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she rested her back against her seat. Obviously she was wondering what other ways of flying there were, but Harry was too concerned with her not noticing his disappearing hands to care about watching what he said.

“You should chew gum, dear, just in case when we get high in the air your ears pop,” the lady continued, glancing over. She looked as if she was ready for talking the entire flight. “Do you have any? Oh, my, didn't I just tell Ed to put his seat belt on?”

The lady twisted around so she faced a young boy the next row over and immediately began to get after him for not putting his belt on the first time.

“Wow,” Harry breathed as the plane started to get higher. “This is nothing like flying on a broom. Look at it, Sev. It looks like… I can't even explain it. Everything's so tiny.”

“Look at the water,” Severus said softly, peering out the window along with Harry. “You could pick it up with your fingers easily. As if it's a long, slim, curvy stick.”

Harry laughed softly. “You could with your imagination. How long 'til we get to Ireland again, Sev? I hope by the time we do get there that my whole entire body disappears. Then there's figuring out where this warlock actually lives—don't you think that could take days?”

“Firstly, it shall only take an hour or so. Secondly, your entire body will not disappear within that time, Harry, I promise you. It seems your disappearing is a gradual process, fortunately taking its time.” Severus spoke low so the lady next to him could not overhear. She, however, was too busy conversing with the man the next seat over beside the young boy.

Harry realized that Severus never made a comment about how finding the warlock could take days. Maybe Severus realized that it could, so he didn't want to think about it and just ignored it instead.

Harry looked down at his hands that he had tried folding on his lap and sighed. He, for one, could not ignore that fact.

“I don't like these crackers.”

Harry made a face and crumpled the wrapper up in his hand, setting it aside on his tray in front of him. He glanced out the window, looking down at the tops of trees which reminded him of broccoli. From up there, the buildings looked just like miniature blocks of some type, and the cars beneath them… everything was so tiny. It was like the things beneath them were merely ants.

“How much longer until we're there?” Harry asked quietly, stifling a yawn as he kept his gaze out the window.

“Around twelve minutes, now,” Severus replied, looking bored.

Harry looked over at Severus in alarm. “Twelve minutes? Just twelve? I wish it was longer.”

“You aren't bored out of your mind?” Severus asked. “I didn't realize at the time that we should have brought something to entertain us. It slipped my mind, what with the other things going on.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Well that's all right. You know, we should go flying like this more often. I can't wait until we go back home on another plane—” Harry cut himself off, suddenly realizing that he just might not even be able to make it home. What if this warlock was unable to help him? What if there was just no possible way? What would happen to him? Would he just… just… just what?

“Are you all right?” Severus questioned, causing Harry to slip out of his thoughts and back into reality. He nodded, forcing a smile.

“Fine. Why?”

“We're landing now,” Severus pointed out. “You weren't altogether there for a while. You're sure… you're quite all right?”

“Quite,” Harry said, grinning again this time without any force. “Do you think the landing will be bumpy?”

“Most likely when the plane lands on the ground.”

Next to him, the old lady gave Severus a warm, light nudge.

“Did you two have a nice plane ride?” she asked, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I seemed to have dozed off there for a bit of it.”

“Fine, thank you, Mrs Mackenzie. I trust you slept well.”

Harry hid a grin at Severus's exasperated politeness. He knew that Mrs Mackenzie had probably only dozed off for about ten minutes, whilst the remainder of the flight had consisted of her nonstop chatting to Severus, who had seemed grumpy about trying to keep conversation when he clearly did not want to. Obviously, Mrs Mackenzie didn't notice his reluctance to talk, which encouraged her to talk more.

“Oh, so nice, Severus—yes, I slept well. I must say I enjoyed your talk and your company immensely! Not many young men like you would care to listen to an old lady babble for an entire plane ride, but no sir, not you. Won't you come to Washington some day? I'd love to see you and your son again, it would be so lovely. Where did you say you two lived again?”

“A little town called Odlin in Hampshire,” Severus replied, his face softening some as the plane began to land.

Mrs Mackenzie smiled warmly. “Odlin, that's right. Well, it sounds absolutely lovely.” She turned her head around as the young man in the next row beside her began to talk to her about something.

Harry found that 'lovely' seemed to be Mrs Mackenzie's favorite word.

Severus turned to Harry. “Are you ready?”

Harry let out an audible breath and gave his head a sharp nod as he looked Severus in the eye.

“I'm ready.”

--

Severus and Harry stood outside the Belfast International Airport, looking around them blankly. What were they to do now? Severus considered apparating, since they had no way of transportation, but he had no idea where he was going to apparate to.

Harry glanced guiltily down at the two bags Severus had in his hands, then down at his own hands, which were once again shoved into his pockets.

“What are we going to do now?” Harry asked, sighing. “We have no idea where this Fornacis Althen lives. I mean… we could always take a taxi.” Harry nodded over to the taxi's that were arriving, and that everyone seemed eager to claim one. “We don't know where we're going, though. Where are we going to stay?”

“I suppose we could find somewhere to stay until we find out where Fornacis Althen lives,” replied Severus. “Which, might I add, is going to be a highly impossible task.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, biting his lip. “I think we should focus on one thing at a time.”

“I agree.”

As soon as they were able to get a taxi, and able to put their luggage in the trunk, Harry and Severus slid into the back, where the driver in a thick Ireland accent impatiently asked where they wanted to go.

“The Radisson,” Severus said immediately, causing Harry to look over at him in surprise.

“Ormeau Road,” the driver muttered. “That'll take around twenty-seven minutes.”

“That's fine,” Severus answered shortly.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together. In a low, quiet voice he asked Severus, “The Radisson? What is that and what made you think of it?”

In an equally low and quiet voice, Severus answered with, “I am hoping it's a hotel. I overheard a couple discussing it.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded, quieting.

With only exception being the driver humming along loudly to some song that he had put on the radio, it was a very, very quiet drive.

--

“So this is it,” Harry said as Severus took their luggage out of the trunk, paid the driver and now stood in front of the rather large hotel. It was getting dark out, which just made the hotel shine with different colors. Purple, blue, green…, Harry had to tilt his head back as far as it could go in order to look at the very top of the building.

“Are you sure you have enough for this?” Harry asked, with his head still tilted back. “It looks very… fancy.”

“Don't worry,” Severus said lightly. “Now, would you like to spend the night out here?”

It took Harry a minute to realize that Severus was being sarcastic.

“All right, all right, I'm coming.” Harry looked back. “Look at the water, Sev. It's reflecting the lights of the hotel—doesn't it look nice?”

“It does,” Severus agreed, trying to sound patient. “Come along.”

Harry wandered around the foyer as Severus went to the front to try and get a room. As Harry stared out the window at the darkening sky outside, he kept thinking that Fornacis Althen lived somewhere… anywhere in Belfast. With no picture and absolutely no idea where the man lived, Harry knew that this was going to be a very difficult task.

A task that, in the end, might not be successful.

--

Harry slowly opened the door to his and Severus' room, revealing it to be rather spacious, with two beds separated by a nightstand which held a lamp. He walked in, finally pulling out his hands to grab onto his suitcase; he placed it gently on one of the beds.

What with all the lamps that were turned on in the room, it gave the room an orangish glow.

Harry tested the bed, carefully sitting on the edge and then carefully bouncing on it twice. He nearly fell off, however, when an unfamiliar voice in the doorway startled him. Quickly he stuffed his hands under his shirt, since he had no time for trying to find his pockets.

“This will be your room,” a young lady said with a large smile and a slight Ireland accent. “The maid immediately turns on all the lamps in the room before guests arrive. I guess it's for the light it makes—it gives the room a nice touch, as you can see, and feel free to turn them off whenever you like.” The large smile never vanished. “A lot of buzzies always compliment the light.”

Harry couldn't help it. “Er—buzzies?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Uh huh. Travellers. Well, enjoy your stay!”

With that, she closed the door, leaving Severus and Harry in silence.

“So what do we do now?” Harry asked quietly, glancing at his suitcase. “Unpack?”

“We don't have time for that.” Severus began to pace, a frustrated look crossing his face. “We need to find Fornacis Althen before you disappear altogether. It's not as if a neon sign will come out of nowhere showing us the direction to where he lives.”

“I s'pose not,” Harry mumbled. “Should we call Sirius and Remus and tell them we made it fine?”

Severus shook his head dismissively. “We have no time. Perhaps after.”

Harry nodded. “All right, it sounds good. But… what now? I don't know how we can find him. I—if you ask me, Sev, I think it's hopeless.”

Severus stopped pacing, frozen in his spot right in front of Harry. He stared at the boy expressionlessly.

“You're very pessimistic,” he finally said, almost sounding amused. “Hopeless? No. Until the only thing left visible is your nose, then I will admit that it's hopeless. I think you should focus on being less pessimistic and more optimistic, don't you?”

Harry sighed. “I can't help it. I'm really not being either, Sev. I'm… I'm being realistic, you see?” Harry laughed, moving up the bed until his head found the soft, fluffy white pillow. “I really want to stay here though. It's not like I want this to happen, that I want to go back to my reality. I could really see us… you know.” Harry's tried to speak jokingly, although he was completely serious. “I could see us spending quality time with each other, getting to know each other better, the whole bonding thing. You get to know more about me, I get to know you… we actually become something like father and son. I don't know.”

Harry looked at the creamy colored wall, putting all jokes aside. “I've just never had a father before. I mean of course I have a father but…” Harry trailed off, looking at Severus. “You know what I mean.”

Severus nodded just as seriously. “I do. We'll get that chance, Harry, so there's nothing to worry about.”

Harry coughed, eventually nodding his head. “I believe you,” he lied. “It's getting kind of late, though. We should look for Althen tomorrow. Probably by then all of my fingers and toes will be gone, so it won't be too bad.”

Severus sat down on the other bed.

“All right. Tomorrow.”

--

The next morning after Severus and Harry got dressed, ate and were ready to start their search of Fornacis Althen, they stood out front of the Radisson as if waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

“I don't know where to start,” Severus admitted.

“Neither do I.” Harry quietly watched several people pass by them. “I really wish we had that neon sign.”

“As do I.”

After another moment of silence Harry spoke loudly. “Why can't this just be easy for us? Fornacis Althen—I mean, all we need to know is where he lives!”

“Oh yes,” said Severus, “let the whole world know. What were you trying to achieve? The loudness was not necessary—did you think, miraculously, some person would hear you and again, miraculously, they know this Fornacis Althen?” Severus smirked. “Nice try. I don't think we're so lucky.”

“Sorry for trying,” Harry muttered, although he had to grin. “It was a long shot, wasn't it?”

“Excuse me.”

An uncertain, nervous voice behind Harry caused him to turn around to see a young girl with red hair and dark eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks approach him hesitantly.

“I couldn't help but overhear. Do you know Mr Althen?”

“We're looking for him,” Harry said quickly, glancing at Severus. “Do you know him?”

She nodded. “Yes. He's a friend of the family—his neice is my best friend.” She took a step closer, lowering her voice and sounding more uncertain and nervous than before. “I—I'm not crazy but… usually people who are looking for him are… are usually in need of something magical. You… understand?”

Harry swallowed, nodding. “That's what we need him for.”

She relaxed, looking pleased. “Great. Well, if you want, I can take you to him. He actually doesn't live too far from here. I could get a taxi…?”

“Yes, yes please,” Harry spoke, looking at Severus again in relief.

“I was on my way there anyway,” she added.

Harry smiled at Severus, saying, “I guess we got a sudden stroke of luck after all, Sev.”

The three arrived in front of a large house, where the green grass seemed to go on for miles around the home. With his hands still in his pockets, Harry walked by Severus as the girl—named Tina—led the way to the front door.

During the ride, Tina had not once asked Harry what he needed to see Fornacis Althen for, but instead talked about how Althen was well-known in the town for contributing at town events and practically knowing everyone. Everyone that knew Althen was a warlock had usually come to request his help when they had a magical problem.

Harry was going to be another one of those people.

He let out a breath as Tina knocked, and not a second later an older man with greying hair and a face lined with wrinkles opened the door.

“We've been expecting you,” he said to Tina, looking friendly enough. He noticed Severus and Harry behind her. “You've brought guests with you!”

“Not exactly,” Tina answered with a smile. “They need your help.”

“Ah.” Fornacis Althen nodded austerely. “I see. Do come in.”

They did as such, where Althen led them to the lounge, offering drinks, which each politely declined. Tina excused herself to find Althen's neice, leaving Harry and Severus sitting on the couch in front of Althen.

“What seems to be the trouble, gentlemen?”

Althen spoke with a slight Irish accent, staring at the two intently and looking concerned. Without saying anything, Harry brought his hands out to show Althen, who's eyebrows raised in surprise as he studied Harry's hands.

Harry's fingers had now completely disappeared, and half of his knuckles were already gone, as well.

“You're turning invisible,” Althen said, though it almost sounded like a confused question.

“Not exactly,” Harry answered. “More like… disappearing. I—I'm not really from this reality, I read your incantation and it brought me here.”

“Ah.” Althen nodded. “What's your name?”

“Harry. They're the same in both realities.”

“Harry. I don't understand—did the Harry from this reality go into your reality? Are you trying to find a way to do some sort of switch-a-roo?”

Harry stayed quiet, glancing at Severus.

“The Harry from here died,” Severus said softly.

“I'm sorry,” Althen said, sounding exactly that. “I see what must have happened, then. This Harry accidentally came into this reality, where the Harry in this reality had passed. So Harry took over this Harry's body, retaining his own mind and spirit, and now you're disappearing because that body and you do not belong in this reality.”

Harry stared blankly. “If I took over this Harry's body, i—it would be a corpse.” A horrified look crossed his face as he glanced down at the body he was in. “It's… not… so—?”

“That,” Althen said quietly, “I cannot explain.” He reached out and gently touched the flesh on Harry's arm with his fingertip. “I know that the body before me isn't a corpse at all, of course, considering your spirit inhabits it. Blood is flowing through your veins, your heart is beating, your brain is functioning—otherwise how could you be here as you are?”

Althen paused, looking thoughtful.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked, frowning as Althen remained silent.

“Your heart is beating, isn't it?” Althen asked.

Alarmed, Harry pressed his palm against his chest. He felt his heart thump—not too fast, not too slow, but in a normal rhythm.

“It is,” Harry said, quickly lowering his hand. He didn't like being reminded that he was slowly disappearing—although, this entire situation was just one, big reminder.

“What I was trying to say earlier,” Althen continued, “was that body belongs, in other words, dead. You belong in your original reality.”

“I want to stay,” Harry said quietly. “I—”

Althen softened. “I understand.”

Harry smiled weakly. “So what can I do?”

Althen shrugged apologetically. “Go back.”

Beside Harry, Severus stayed quiet. Harry looked at him pleadingly, trying to get him to say something, but he seemed to be off in his own world.

“Why did you even create these incantations anyway?” Harry couldn't help but feel angry. It grew inside of him, bubbling in his stomach, making its way up to his mouth. “Especially if it ends like this.”

“Everyone needs to get away once in a while. Somewhere an incantation should have followed a person into whatever reality they may end up in. The tricky part is the exchanging of realities. One goes in the new reality, the counterpart goes into the other one's old reality. Then this usually happens, and when the person realizes they're disappearing from existence, they read the incantation to bring them back. It'd be almost like a good dream—sometimes even nightmare.”

Harry looked away. “So I'm going back to my other reality.”

“Oh, no.” Althen shook his head, looking more serious than he had ever since Severus and Harry arrived at his home. “You're disappearing from existence. This existence and your original one.”

Harry paled, his mouth falling open. This caused Severus to snap back as he looked at Althen in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

Althen turned his attention to Severus, saying, “Unless you read the incantation that takes Harry back, of course, then he'll merely return to his own reality.”

“Can't you make an incantation that can make me stay here permanently?” Harry asked, sounding desperate.

Althen shook his head silently.

“Then we'll just get another warlock to try,” Harry said with a frown, unable to think of anything else to say.

“There aren't as many warlocks in the world like there are wizards, Harry. The only other warlock I know lives in the United States, and he is no where near as powerful as I am—only a powerful warlock could create the incantation, such as this, which means only a powerful warlock can create an incantation to make you stay.” Althen paused for a beat. “I don't mean to sound so… you know… but it's true.”

Harry's shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Besides,” Althen said, “No other warlock in a very long time has used his magic through incantations. See, for me, using my magic through incantations is like you using your magic through wands.”

Harry frowned briefly, intrigued.

“Warlocks can use their magic through many different things, like you use it through your wands. For me its incantations. I also use, I suppose you could call them, potions that I give to people who are in need of them,” Althen explained. “If they need one for the flu, to ease the pain of child birth, to heal wounds—that aren't fatal, of course, I can't heal wounds that ultimately kill that person. Just minor wounds.”

“Uncle, are—” A young, brunette woman stopped in midsentence as she saw the three in front of her. “Nevermind, Uncle, I'll ask later.”

Nodding her head at the guests, she quickly left the room.

“Your—your niece,” Harry started uncertainly, “is she a… warlock, too?”

Althen nodded, smiling. “The magic has been passed down to her, as well.” Althen paused, rubbing his short beard, which was almost white. “If you allow me time, gentlemen, I shall… I shall try. I shall try to create an incantation that makes you permanent in this world.”

Harry's eyes lit up, barely having any time to look over to see Severus's reaction as he kept his eyes focused on Althen.

“You will?” Harry breathed.

Althen nodded solemnly. “I don't promise anything, however, as I've never done this before. I'll do my very best. In the meantime, you're welcome to stay as guests here. We have a guest room upstairs.”

Harry looked up at Severus expectantly.

“It'd be no problem at all,” Althen added quickly, as he must have noticed the expression almost beginning to form on Severus's face. Jokingly, he said,“There'd be no need to pay, as well. Free place to rest, free washroom, free food—it's a pretty good deal if you ask me!”

Harry grinned, still waiting for Severus's answer. Finally, with a slow nod, Severus said, “Very well. Thank you, for all you're doing.”

Althen shook his head. “It's not really a problem—I can tell how much staying here means to both of you.” He studied them quietly for a moment. “I have to say, after I created that incantation, I can't remember one person coming to me because they wanted to stay. Although that might be different in other realities, I meant in this one.”

Both Harry and Severus stood, and Althen did as well, sensing that this is where they would start towards the door. Before they left, however, Harry couldn't help but ask, “So, did you really create all of these different realities, for every single person in the world? I mean the possibilities are endless so… how?”

Althen chuckled, revealing a dimple on his right cheek. “No, my humorous boy, I didn't create those realities. They already existed. I merely created a doorway for them, to let people access them when they were in dire need to get away. See?”

“Oh.” Harry nodded. “Does… everyone in the world, though, I mean… can they access them? Wouldn't that be sort of… strange, to them?”

“That's a good question,” Althen said, sounding thoughtful. “I really didn't create much of the rules. I guess if we surveyed the entire world we'd find the answer.”

He smiled, and Harry couldn't help but smile back as Althen led the two to the door. With Severus saying thanks again, Harry couldn't exactly find his voice. He was too overwhelmed with the fact that this might actually work—he might actually stay.

Well… might.

He still was unsure if it would even work. He'd just have to wait…

--

Severus and Harry had, as soon as they arrived back at the Radisson, quickly gathered their belongings—which, conveniently, they hadn't unpacked—and checked out of the hotel; making their way back to Althen's house.

It all hadn't taken very long, which resulted in heading up to the guest rooms that Althen offered to them and actually unpacking almost at three in the afternoon.

“Harry and Severus, is it?” Althen's neice stopped them as they reached the bottom of the staircase that led to their bedrooms upstairs. “My name's Nora, by the way, since you're staying here. My uncle will be, probably, in his study most of the time working on the incantation for Harry.” She paused. “I haven't done much magic since I acquired mine, but I'm going to try putting my magic into the incantation along with Uncle Althen's.”

“Thank you,” Harry said honestly. “Erm… you said acquire. What did you… mean?”

“Oh.” Nora turned a deep shade of red. “We get our magic when we… start, ehm… puberty.”

She seemed awkward and uncomfortable about discussing this, so Harry dropped the subject. He nearly turned his head when he heard Severus, beside him, take in a breath as if he were about to say something when instead, Nora spoke up.

“So, for lunch, are you two hungry? I know my cooking wouldn't be as good as a restaurant, but I'm not half bad,” she admitted. “Sit down, sit down! We have an Irish Coffee Cake for dessert, and I've started on a chicken, it should be ready soon.”

Severus looked impressed. “Thank you.”

“So, uhm, take a seat.” Nora awkwardly used her hands to wave them at the two to sit down. “I haven't really done this much for anyone but my uncle and my best friend. You met her earlier.” She opened the oven, put on ovenmits, and took out the chicken, muttering under her breath, “It's not done…,”while sticking it back into the oven.

She took off her ovenmits and turned to look at Severus and Harry, leaning against the counter; she coughed.

“So, you two are wizards?”

Severus paused before he said, “How did your uncle know that my son and I were wizards?”

“Oh.” Nora nodded. “He knows tons about other magical beings—of course he would know about wizards. Quite a few have visited him, too, but the reason he and I both knew was just because warlocks can sense when they're in the presence of another magical being. We can detect just what type of magical being it is, too.”

“Ah.” Severus gave his head a nod. “Do you consider yourself a warlock, or is there another term?”

“Well, you've heard that warlocks are supposed to be the male equivalent of witches,” Nora said with a laugh. “That's not necessarily true—wizards are kind of like the male equivalent of witches, aren't they? Anyway, in my family the men have always inherited the magic, but I'm the first one to inherit it. Of course, I doubt I'm the first one… women way, way, way back probably had the magic, too, but not in recent years.

“Uhm… I also want to point out, because a lot of people my uncle and I have met that know of us being warlocks have said that warlocks are supposed to be oathbreakers. My uncle and I aren't, at least. You know, warlocks betraying their coven and things like that… I don't know if it's true, but,”—Nora shook her head—“it's not us.”

Nora stopped abruptly as someone came into the kitchen. Harry looked over to see a young man stand in the doorway; immediately as he saw Nora his face lit up.

A wide smile slid onto Nora's face as she walked over and took the man's hand, dragging him forward.

“Severus and Harry, this is my boyfriend, Thomas. He's, uhm…” Nora glanced uncertainly at Thomas. “He's a sorcerer.”

Harry stared blankly. “W—what?”

“He can do magic.” Nora nodded quickly as Thomas looked down at her, a mixture of bewilderment and horror crossing his face. “Not the way wizards can… it's like wandless magic. With my family, the men have always married just normal women, so when they have children they're half-human and half-warlock. Usually the women only have one child, and that child is usually a boy, but when my mother had me I was… well, a girl, and so I was the one to get the magical abilities.”

Thomas cleared his throat, still looking confused as to why Nora was explaining all of this to these two strangers.

“Nora's parents died when she was young, and Nora was left with Fornacis. Usually when a warlock married just a normal woman, the warlock would live much longer than his wife, and also remain much younger, which… would be pretty difficult.” Thomas paused. “With Nora, Fornacis wanted her to marry someone who would age just as slow as she is, and live almost as long.”

“So since you're a sorcerer,” Harry said slowly, “you're going to age slow, too?”

Nora grinned. “How old do I look, Harry?”

Harry studied Nora silently. Of course, she couldn't have been older than thirty. Maybe in her twenties, Harry figured, considering she didn't look like a teenager. Nineteen? No. Twenty-five, maybe.

“Maybe twenty-five,” Harry finally said.

Nora shook her head. “I'm almost forty. Thomas is fifty.”

“Fifty?” Harry blurted. “I—I just mean, he looks like he's in his thirties.”

“See what I mean?” Nora laughed. “I can't believe how lucky I am that I met Thomas who's a sorcerer… I've actually been thinking this may have been thaumaturge's fault.”

“A thaumaturge can work miracles,” Thomas explained quickly. “Nora knows one who lives in Nebraska.”

“Since warlocks age so gradually,” Severus started slowly, “how many of your relatives are living?”

“Usually the majority of warlocks live until the age of two hundred and twenty, maybe even less than that. The only two relatives I stay in contact with are… Uncle David, of course, and my cousin Bernie. There's probably more, though.”

Harry coughed. “N—Nora, is your chicken burning?”

Nora's eyes grew wide, and she spun around, nearly forgetting her ovenmits as she threw the oven open, coughing just as Harry was as she tried to take out the chicken.

She waved her hands over the chicken, trying to get the smell out of the air.

“It's not so bad,” she finally said. “Still edible, I think. At least the smoke detector didn't go off, that would have given Uncle Althen a headache for sure.” She coughed again, looking over her shoulder at Harry and Severus. “Sorry if you get a piece that's a little charred. You can always take that part off.”

--

“Well Nora, that was quite something,” Althen said, giving Nora a proud look. “A little burnt but… still good.”

Nora turned pink as she started to pick up the dishes.

“Sorry, I got a little distracted.”

“It's perfectly all right.” Althen looked at Severus and Harry as he began to speak again. “I'm going to continue working on the incantation as soon as I get some of my energy back. You have no idea how exhausting it is putting so much magic into those words.” He chuckled as a guilty look appeared on Harry's face. “No, no, I don't mind trying to do this for you. Don't look so guilty.”

“I can help with the magic, Uncle,” Nora spoke up. “You just tell me what I need to write. Shall we do this after I put the dishes away? What about Thomas—could he help?”

Althen smiled. “Your help would be much appreciated, Nora, but I'm afraid Thomas's magic wouldn't do much good with this.”

Thomas sighed as he stood. “In that case I suppose I should be heading out now.” He walked over to Nora and kissed the top of her head. “Lunch was beautiful, Nora, thank you. Fornacis, I wish you luck on the incantation. Severus and Harry, I wish you two luck with everything as well. If I don't see you again then goodbye, and again, good luck.”

“I wish I could give you some type of deadline as to when the incantation should be ready,” Althen said as Thomas walked out of the room. “I don't know if it'll even work, but it should, it really should. I'm just going to guess on this and say maybe, if Nora and I work on it all day tomorrow, perhaps the next day after that? Rest is going to be needed… it takes a lot of energy out of you.”

“Especially out of my uncle,” Nora said. “He's not as young as he used to be, so I'll have much more energy than he does. Maybe if we're lucky we can even have it finished and working tomorrow night.”

Nora suddenly froze with a dish in her hand as she ran the last sentence she said over in her mind. Slowly, she put the dish back into the sink full of soapy water and turned around, looking at Harry with her head tilted and an unsure expression on her face.

“Lucky,” she murmured again. Harry stared back in quiet confusion. “Luck… we need luck… a miracle.”

“Er—” Harry stopped, still staring at Nora in confusion as she slowly began to step forward.

“Luck… luck… a miracle…” Nora's eyes moved, thoughtfully staring at different places of the kitchen before saying, in a distant voice, “Will you excuse me? I—I need to make a phone call.”

And, snapping out of her daze, she quickly left the kitchen—almost tripping multiple times—on unsteady feet.

“Sev?” Harry muttered sleepily the next morning, rolling over on his side. He lay on his bed, with the sunlight lazily streaming through the window behind Severus's own bed, and in order for Harry to look over at Severus's bed he also had to look at the window, which momentarily blinded him.

Severus stayed quiet for a few moments, and at first Harry thought the man was still asleep, but then in quiet voice that one would use in the library, he responded with, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Harry said, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. “I just wanted to see if you were up. Good morning.”

“You sound almost cheerful,” Severus commented. “How… are you today, Harry?”

Harry looked down at his hand and had to hold himself back from letting out a small gasp. He shouldn't be surprised since he knew he was disappearing, but really, it couldn't help but shock him. Already both hands had disappeared, as did his wrists, and slowly, ever so slowly, his arms were disappearing now. Harry wagered that by lunch his elbows would be gone.

Harry closed his eyes and threw the blankets back, counting to ten before slowly opening his eyes again. This time he let out a little squeak. Both of his legs were gone, and at lunch by the time his elbows were gone, so would his kneecaps.

“Not good at all,” Harry managed to get out. He raised his arms so Severus could see, and using his bottom to try to wiggle his way to the edge of the bed, he tried to stand up.

It didn't work so well.

“Oomph!” Harry took in a sharp breath as he fell to the floor.

“Are you all right?” Severus sat up, looking alarmed.

“I have no legs!” Harry yelled angrily. “So of course anybody without any legs wouldn't be all right!” At Severus's raised eyebrows Harry sighed. “Sorry. Could you—could you help me back up onto the bed?” Harry glanced down at his non-existant legs gloomily. “It doesn't look like I'll be going anywhere today.”

Severus stood and bent down to help Harry back onto the bed. “It seems I'll have to feed you again today,” Severus said, almost in amusement, though his eyes looked anything but amused. “Are you going to have any more objections about that?”

Harry, however, wasn't in much of a joking mood. “No, not today.”

Severus nodded. “I'll go see if there's anything for you to eat, just stay here.”

He inwardly winced as he said this, momentarily forgetting that there was no possible way for Harry to go anywhere, but decided not to say anything else about it. He went down the stairs and walked into the kitchen, finding Nora placing plates of food on the table.

“Morning,” she greeted cheerfully. “Harry still sleeping?”

“Harry's condition has worsened,” Snape said. “I was going to bring his breakfast up to him.”

“Oh.” Nora looked worried as she wiped her hands on what looked like an apron tied around her waist. “Well I have good news. My uncle should be done with the incantation today, and I have breakfast all made. It's on the table; take what you like.”

“Thank you.”

“I thought I was smelling something delicious,” Althen said, almost as cheerfully as Nora sounded. “Severus, you're up! Good news: the incantation should be finished today! Where's Harry?”

“He's worse this morning,” Severus explained. He held a plate up. “I'm going to take Harry his breakfast.”

Althen frowned. “I'm sorry to hear that. I'll have to work on it longer, in that case… we really don't want anybody disappearing from existance in this house, eh?”

--

Severus returned upstairs with the plate of food to find Harry staring at the blank wall in front of him, a distant look on his face. Once the floorboard underneath Severus squeaked, however, Harry looked over and grinned, though he didn't look happy.

“It smells great.”

Even his voice sounded distant and emotionless, Severus noted. He sat on the edge of Harry's bed, putting the plate beside him.

“Is there anything you'd like to start off with?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder carelessly. “Anything's good, I guess.”

Severus nodded quietly, taking a strip of bacon and ripping a tiny piece off so it could fit into Harry's mouth easily. “Smile a little, Harry,” Severus said softly as he broke off another piece of bacon. “I'm not used to seeing you not smile.”

“There's nothing to smile about,” Harry pointed out quietly, accepting the piece of bacon. “Not now, anyway.”

Severus sighed. “The incantation is almost done, if that helps any.”

Harry shook his head. “There's a chance it might not even work. Then I'll be gone from existance. I won't even just disappear into my original reality, I'll just be gone. I'm starting to think that maybe I should just read that paper to send me back without going through all of this.”

Severus swallowed, his mouth parting slightly as though he were about to object. Instead, in the same soft voice he said, “It's entirely up to you, Harry.”

Harry couldn't help but be a little surprised, since he was expecting Severus to insist that he should be optimistic about this new incantation and to not think about the last resort just yet.

“I don't want to though,” Harry pointed out uncertainly, just in case Severus may have forgotten that. “I—I mean it's just a chance right?”

Severus stayed quiet, moving on to the egg. He picked up a knife and fork and began to cut the egg into chewable pieces. “Open,” Severus said distractedly. Harry, puzzled, opened his mouth for the egg.

“You didn't answer me,” Harry pointed out after swallowing his food.

“I didn't know it was a question.” Severus cut another piece of egg. “I merely thought that you needed reassurance.”

“I don't care,” Harry said. “I just want you to talk to me, even if you are just reassuring me about this.”

“Why would you need reassurance?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Severus sighed, abandoning the knife, fork and food and looked Harry in the eye as he spoke.

“Harry, I love you, and everything will work out for the best. You and I both know that Fornacis Althen is very powerful, especially with Nora. I'm sure, without a doubt, that everything will work out in our favor.”

Harry felt a warm feeling form in his stomach. “You love me.”

The look of amusement crossed Severus's face again. “Yes, Harry Potter, I love you. You're my son.”

Harry felt a silly grin slip onto his face for the first time since he woke up that day. “I'm pretty sure it's Harry Snape now,” Harry said. “Just… letting you know.”

“Is that right?” Severus pretended to look surprised, looking back down to the plate of food. “I had no idea.”

“Mm, I figured. That's why I told you.”

“Logical thinking. Are you comfortable?”

Harry looked down at his body. “Not really, but I know what you meant, and in that way yes, I am comfortable. Sev… er, what are you going to do today?”

“Hm.” Severus, finished with the egg, went for the other piece of bacon and began that into tiny pieces as he did to the first one. “Perhaps stay up here with you. Why do you ask?”

Harry groaned, scowling. “No, don't stay up here with me all day. Why don't you go out and see a bit of Ireland? I don't want to keep you here.”

“You're not keeping me anywhere.” Severus looked absolutely surprised. “I choose to stay here with you. Besides, I could not go out and see a bit of Ireland without you, it wouldn't feel right while you're here with… no arms or legs.”

“But it's going to get boring,” came Harry's quiet voice. “It's not like I can do anything. Who knows—I'll probably sleep the entire day.”

“That's fine with me,” Severus said. “In fact, if you feel sleepy at any time during the day, then I insist that you go to sleep. You really needn't worry over me.”

“I'm not worried…” Harry started off, “just kind of guilty that I have to keep you here. You could always go downstairs and keep Nora company or something, she'd be more entertaining than I'd ever be.”

“You shouldn't be so hard on yourself,” Severus said lightly. “She might be more boring than you could ever imagine yourself to be.”

“At least go downstairs and get your own breakfast, you must be starving,” Harry said. “See? Look, I'm practically finished mine now.”

“You don't want this other piece of bacon?”

Harry shook his head. “I think there may have been a plate of pancakes downstairs. Would you like some of those?”

Harry shook his head again, grinning this time. “Just go downstairs and eat breakfast, Sev, okay? Please?”

“Will that make you happy?” Severus finally asked, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

Harry nodded eagerly. “I won't feel as guilty for keeping you up here.”

“All right,” Severus agreed, picking up the empty plate while standing to his feet.

Behind him, almost as he reached the staircase leading downstairs to the kitchen, he heard Harry mumble something, though he wasn't sure if the boy was mumbling to himself or if it was something that he was supposed to hear.

Severus turned around. “Did you say something?”

Harry coughed, a light shade of pink decorating both of his cheeks. “I just wanted to say,” Harry started in a louder, clearer and firmer voice than before, though he still looked uncomfortable and rather awkward, “that… I, er… I love you too, Dad.”

After that comment, Severus walked down the stairs, feeling like nothing could go wrong that day.

--

Later that day, both Severus and Althen were called into the lounge by Nora, who was the first to arrive, sitting with her hands folded on her lap while looking unsurprisingly calm.

“What's this about, Nora?” Althen questioned suspiciously as he sat down next to Severus, who was as equally puzzled. Especially since she had requested his presence, too. “You know I can't stop working on that incantation. You should be in my study helping me.”

“I know,” Nora said, adding quickly, “and I will. It's just… we need luck.”

“Luck,” Althen repeated in confusion. “Well of course we do.”

“It's going to take a miracle to get this incantation to work,” Nora pressed on, her eyes lighting up, waiting for someone to catch on to her brilliance.

No one did.

“I wouldn't say a miracle.” Althen scowled. “Do you not believe I can do this? We do need luck, though, my dear. Nora, you did something, now what is it?”

“I called Cealin,” Nora blurted out, looking eager. “He's coming here as fast as he can. He left yesterday so he should be arriving today.”

Severus frowned. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Cealin is that Thaumaturge,” Nora explained. “He can cast miracles. That's who I called yesterday. I thought we could use a miracle for Harry.”

“That's good thinking,” Althen admitted. He glanced at the oak door across from them that led to his study. “Nora, I'm afraid I'll need your assitance now for the incantation. It's going to take a lot of magic to finish this off.”

“Of course, Uncle,” Nora said, standing. “Excuse us, Severus?”

“Certainly.”

Severus stood, too, watching as Althen and Nora walked into the study before he walked back into the kitchen to go up to the staircase, leading to their bedrooms.

“This is really a rather big room isn't it?” Harry said as soon as Severus entered the room. “I wonder how many guests they have over at a time? If they don't know each other wouldn't it be awkward sharing a room, even though it's big?”

“I don't know,” Severus admitted.

“What did Nora want?” Harry asked, trying to pull himself up since he was down so low, but it didn't work too well considering that he was armless.

“She called someone to cast a miracle,” Severus said with a smirk. “So it looks like you'll be getting a miracle, Harry.”

Harry grinned faintly. “A miracle, huh? That's just what I need.” He paused, inspecting what was left of his arm. “Strange how you can see no blood or anything where my arm starts, isn't it? Just a stump-like thing, all flesh.”

“It's a good thing that there is no blood,” Severus said, sitting back down on Harry's bed. “I wouldn't want you to be seeing that all day.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Sorry if I'm not the greatest person to talk to today, or if I'm really quiet—”

“No,” Severus interrupted with a shake of his head. “I prefer the quiet anyway.”

Harry grinned faintly. “Thanks, Dad.”

For a split second, Severus looked surprised at the title, but quickly recovered, saying, “Do you find it difficult to call me that?”

Harry laughed and shook his head no. “I'm just going to have to get used to calling somebody that, so I might go from 'Sev' to 'Dad' once in a while.”

Harry eyed the telephone sitting on a small table in the far corner. “Dad, should we call Sirius? Tell him we're okay? Well… that you're okay? Give him an update or something?”

Severus groaned. “I'm not in the mood to converse with Black. Can't we hold that off another day or two?”

Harry laughed. “Hold it off? Well… what if you called Remus?”

“I can't tell whether Lupin or Black will pick up, so there is, honestly, no point, don't you find? You look sleepy. You should rest.”

“I'm not sleepy, you just want me to go to sleep so I won't bug you to call Sirius anymore.”

“Perhaps, but do you know that for a fact?” Severus smirked as Harry silently gave him a look. “I thought not.”

“You're difficult,” Harry mumbled, about to rub his sleepy eyes when he realized that he really had nothing to rub them with. So he put his arm back down on the bed and sighed.

“You're tired.”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. Boredom helps with that. Just laying here… doing nothing the entire day.”

“Sleep then,” said Severus softly. “I'll wake you up when it's lunch time.”

“Yeah?”

Just the thought of sleeping made Harry yawn. Then, with a nod of his head, Harry made sure his head was tilted on the pillow in a comfortable position before he started to fall back to sleep.

--

A sudden, distant clang of metal woke Harry up, causing him to jump; his eyes flew open. He wasn't sure if it had been silent while he was sleeping, but whatever pot or pan that had fallen or even hit against something downstairs in the kitchen was enough to jerk Harry out of his sleep.

When Harry looked down at Severus, who must've fallen asleep sometime after Harry did, he realized that he sound didn't wake him up. He didn't even twitch a finger.

He must be a deep sleeper. Harry looked around the room, as if doing that would tell him what time it was. He glanced down at Severus again. The professor was at the bottom of the bed, his head resting beside the spot where Harry's feet should have been. Severus's own feet were hovering slightly over the floor, not quite touching the hardwood flooring.

It did look rather uncomfortable, Harry thought as he studied Severus. If only he could get up and go downstairs to see what the time was. Would Nora have come up to wake them if they had slept in longer than they should have? Or would she try to respect their privacy by… not?

Harry didn't want to wake Severus up, either. He looked almost peaceful sleeping, and the last thing he had probably been the last couple of days was peaceful.

He stared out the window, seeing nothing but the green leaves of the trees in the backyard and bits of bright blue sky. He wanted to go over to the window and look at the Althens' backyard to see just how big it was, since he dearly wanted to go out back and run around as much as he could on his feet. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

He looked back over at Severus and jumped when he found the professor staring at him quietly. He let out a breath, waiting for his heart to stop beating so quickly and to return to its normal pace.

“You scared me,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I wasn't expecting you to be awake and… staring.”

“I can usually have that effect,” Severus said thoughtfully, elaborating at Harry's look with, “Scaring people when I want to. How long have I been sleeping?”

“I don't know. I woke up maybe… five or so minutes before you did?” Harry turned his head to the right, looking back out the large window. “I want to go outside.”

“I know you do. After, when this is over with.” There was a pause, and then Severus stood, saying, “I'll be downstairs for a second, I assume you're hungry.”

“I'm unbelievably hungry,” Harry confessed, grinning. “I think I smell something good downstairs. I wish I could walk.”

“I'll be back in a minute.”

Harry seemed to be right, Severus thought as he came closer to the kitchen. There seemed to be many auromas mixed in with one another, and as soon as he entered the kitchen, Severus saw why.

“Oh good, you're up!”

Nora was placing several bags down on the table. Those bags held the different smells.

“Are you having a party?” Severus questioned as he eyed the bags. He looked at Nora long enough to see her face turn red.

“No… this is just food. For us. It's nearly three in the afternoon, so you could consider this some type of lunch and supper. I tried making the food, but I sort of burnt it—I'm surprised you and Harry didn't wake up with that loud smoke detector—and so then I went out and got these.”

Nora stopped for a breath. “Cealin came while you two were sleeping, and, well, we got a miracle. Uncle Althen seems to have much more energy than before. Me, too. Which will result in finishing the incantation quicker than expected—sometime soon, if not around nine tonight.”

“The quicker the better,” Severus said in relief. “Thank you. Very much.”

Nora shook her head. “No problem.”

Severus began to assist Nora in unloading the food, some which were in styrofoam containers.

“You should really give Harry this corn on the cob, there was only one. Or you can take it, if you like it and he doesn't… or split it between you,” said Nora. “I think I went a little overboard but… the leftovers are always nice to eat the next couple days afterwards. Take as much as you can carry, really… do you need help?”

“No, that's quite all right.” Severus paused, suddenly feeling the need to thank Fornacis and his neice for all they were doing for both him and Harry. He, however, was not usually one for thanking, so he had no idea what to actually say except for, “I want to thank you again for… everything. For helping my son especially.”

Nora shook her head again, grinning.

“It's fine. My uncle and I can see that you and Harry care for each other very much. That's the only reason we need to help you.”

--

“Wow.” Harry stared at Severus as he came through the open door with a very large amount of food in his hands. “Did you bring up an entire buffet, Sev?”

“Blame Ms Althen,” Severus muttered as he brought the food over to Harry's bed. “She insisted I pile up on as much food as I could.”

“This is for both of us, right?” Harry asked, his eyes flickering up onto Severus's face.

“For you.”

“No, no, no!” Harry said quickly. “I can't eat all of this. You'll have to help me, so sit down.” He stopped, looking at something that Severus held in his hands. “What's that?”

Severus sat, and then held set the tub of something on the bed next to Harry.

“Butter. For your corn.”

“Corn—that corn?”

Harry stared at the long, yellow corn on the cob that sat in a styrofoam container in amongst the rest of the food which were, like the corn, in styrofoam containers.

“Yes.” A frown crossed Severus's face. “Have you not had it before?”

Harry shook his head no.

“I've always wanted to try it. How do I pick it up?”

Severus reached over towards the container that held the corn and took out something yellow.

“Ms Althen put these in here. All the times that there have been corn at the manor I believe you used to use these.”

“Right.”

Harry watched as Severus stuck the picks in both ends of the corn. “What do you need the butter for, again?” Harry questioned.

“The corn.”

Severus, using a plastic knife that was included with the food, cut a small chunk out of the butter and put it in the bottom of the styrofoam, awkwardly trying to roll the corn in the butter. With a frustrated sigh, Severus cut another small chunk of the butter and instead of putting it on the bottom of the stryofoam, spread it all around the corn and, satisfied, leaned forward so Harry could bite into it.

“Not bad,” Harry said after swallowing. He eyed Severus. “Why aren't you eating anything?”

Severus made a face. “It doesn't look too appetizing.”

Harry searched around the pile of food with his eyes.

“Look, there's brown rice and… isn't that chicken in that red sauce? Don't you like chinese food?”

“I'll eat as soon as you're finished,” Severus said, exasperated. “Now are you ready for another bite?”

Harry shook his head. “I'm not going to eat until you eat.”

“You don't have any hands, Harry,” Severus reminded the boy. “For now, I'm your hands—”

“I know,” Harry interrupted, frowning. “I know. I just feel bad… that's all.”

“Well don't,” Severus said firmly. “Eat.”

It seemed to be perfect timing. Just as Harry opened his mouth to argue some more, there came loud, hasty footsteps on the stairs and not long after, Nora appeared in the doorway. Her face was very flushed and excited; she took a few agonizing moments to catch her breath, making Harry and Severus wait impatiently to find out what was wrong.

Then, after what seemed like thousands of excruciating years, Nora finally caught her breath and spoke.

“It's done,” she managed to say through gulps of air. “W—we finished much earlier than expected. It was… hah, it was a miracle, really… the incantation is finished!”

“What are you waiting for?” Nora laughed, giddy. “Hurry up, will you? Oh, of course—Harry do you need help?”

“I think so,” Harry said, his face flushed from excitement. Severus pulled down the blankets, unsure of how they were ever going to be able to get Harry down the steps.

“Carry him,” Nora suggested from the doorway. “We had a guest a while ago, an old lady… she had no room on her way back home for her wheelchair and we have yet to return it to her. We really should do that soon…. As soon as we reach the bottom of the stairs Harry can go in that, it'll much more convenient.”

“I don't want to be carried,” Harry mumbled, his face still red, although this time it wasn't from excitement. “Sev, please… don't carry me… isn't there another way?”

Nora began to walk over to the bed where Harry and Severus were. She bit her lip thoughtfully, staring at Harry closely.

“I'll take this side,” she started, “you take Harry's other side.”

She helped Harry sit up and put her left arm across Harry's back, placing her right hand on Harry's waist. Severus mimicked the movements. Then, with some effort, they lifted Harry out of the bed and staggered towards the door.

“All three of us aren't going to be able to fit down the stairs,” Nora muttered. “I'll go in front. Severus, do you have Harry's waist? He won't fall or slip?”

Severus grunted. It seemed that was the only thing he could do as Nora let go of the other side of Harry and ran as fast as she could down the stairs.

“I'll get the wheelchair!” she called over her shoulder.

With difficulty Severus managed to get both him and Harry down the stairs and by that time, Nora had the wheelchair down at the bottom of the stairs and was waiting to help get Harry into it.

Nora was slightly out of breath as soon as they accomplished getting Harry into the wheelchair—as was Severus.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Severus asked, wheeling Harry towards Althen's study with Nora in the lead.

“Yeah,” came the reply. “I just can't wait to read the incantation.”

“My uncle threw in a little surprise for you,” Nora said with her back to Severus and Harry, a smile in her voice. “You'll see soon.”

Nora held the door open to the study for Severus and Harry, and as soon as they were inside she followed, closing the door behind her.

“Well we finished successfully!” said Althen proudly, looking very pleased with this accomplishment. “As well as, if Nora didn't already tell you, a surprise. But first…” Althen trailed off, pulling out a sheet of paoer that seemed to shine in the light. It wasn't crumpled abd old-looking like the first incantation Harry had read. Althen set the paper on Harry's lap, who handled it gingerly.

“I read this, don't I?” Harry asked softly.

Althen nodded, smiling.

“You do indeed. Oh, and this—” Althen stopped and picked up another paper off his desk, which shined just like the other one in Harry's lap. “This is your surprise.”

“Uncle,” Nora said with a laugh. “I don't think they know what it is.”

“Oh, well.” Althen cleared his throat. “This is another incantation. Yes, I took the liberty of creating two—that miracle was really a miracle, and this one will come in handy. You see, if Harry stays in this reality, I imagine people back in your other reality will be quite puzzled. This is where the other incantation comes in.”

Harry frowned, looking at Althen in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Althen continued, “that this incantation will allow you to communicate with one person from your other reality. There is a time limit, of course. I think of, perhaps, one hour? Surely that'll be enough time. As soon as you read that incantation, your head should be projected so that the person in the other reality will, naturally, only see your abnormally large head that won't be quite so solid. Like a projection. Think… The Wizard of Oz, almost.”

“Oh.”

Harry watched as Althen set the other incantation on his lap, underneath the first one.

“Go ahead,” Althen said gently. “Read it, let's see what happens.”

Harry cleared his throat, glancing up at Severus, who gave him an encouraging nod of the head. Harry nodded back and began to read the incantation out loud.

“Permissum aliquid magus maneo hic, illico hinc noctis, illico hinc hora.”

Harry paused dramatically, waiting for some feeling to wash over him.

Nothing.

“It wasn't so eloquent, I didn't know really how to word this one,” Althen muttered to himself. Then to Harry, he said, “How do you feel?”

Harry shook his head, looking away in disappointment. His voice sounded distant.

“Nothing. No different.”

Althen sighed, the sigh sounding just as disappointed as Harry felt at that moment. They remained quiet, the only sound coming from a clock on the wall that went tick, pause, tick, pause, tick.

“Well,” Severus suddenly spoke, sounding relieved, happy and amused. “Look at yourself, Harry.”

Harry looked down, his eyes widening. A slow smile spread across his face. Slowly, his arms and legs were melting into view. His wrist, his ankle, his palm, his foot, his fingers, his toes…

And then he was back.

All of him.

Harry let out a breath, not knowing what to say or do. He felt like he should let out a loud yell of joy, but it was too quiet in the study to do that, except for the relieved sighs coming from the adults.

“I can't believe it,” Harry murmured. He flexed his fingers. “Amazing…”

“Now the other incantation,” Althen said eagerly, looking about as pleased as anyone could get that his incantation worked. “Go on, Harry, go on.”

It felt so nice to use his hands again. Harry picked up the other incantation and once again cleared his throat.

“Defero cum… Albus Dumbledore… inde alius mundus, illico hinc noctis, illico hinc hora.”

“Okay,” Althen whispered in excitement, handing Harry a mirror. “Now focus those words into this mirror.”

“Into? Erm…”

In Harry's concentration to focus the words into the mirror, he began to squint until he got a headache. He even thought the squinting had started to make him started seeing a bit of fog on the mirror… but then, perhaps, this was supposed to happen. Maybe he actually succeeded in focusing the words into the mirror.

Then, something began to come into view as Harry, along with everyone else, stared intently into the mirror. Yes… a figure… a very surprised looking figure.

Dumbledore.

“Harry?”

Dumbledore spoke first, staring back at Harry through the mirror with a look of utmost surprise.

“Yes,” Harry said gleefully, smiling. “You can see me?”

“Your head is floating in my office,” Dumbledore said, his eyebrows knitting together. “How? Is it… really you?”

“Yes,” Harry said again. “I read another one of Fornacis Althen's incantations and… I want to tell you… well, I—I'm staying here, sir.”

A smile crossed Dumbledore's face, and the surprised expression left. “I already had a feeling that you were,” Dumbledore said. “I'm not surprised, however. I've heard a great deal about Fornacis Althen... merely stories, I've never quite experienced anything like this for myself.”

Harry smiled back. “Sir, how are—well, how is Hedwig? My stuff… what happened to those?”

“Hedwig is fine, your things are fine,” Dumbledore replied. “Ron Weasley is looking after your owl, and I have your luggage, along with your wand, here. Although, I can see you won't be needing them.”

Harry bit his lip. “No. I—I have clothes here, and a wand… but Hedwig…” Harry sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Tell Ron to take good care of her, sir?”

“I'll do that,” Dumbledore said, nodding his head. “Harry… are you sure—?”

Harry swallowed and nodded. “I'm completely positive. Please, sir… it feels like, in a way, I belong here. I—I'm not leaving.”

“Harry—”

“No,” Harry interrupted firmly. “Professor Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore sighed, a sign that he didn't want to argue and would willingly give in. “You're happy there, Harry?”

Harry grinned down at the mirror, where Dumbledore's image was staring back. “More than I've ever been, sir.”

Dumbledore nodded, his face softening. “That's all I need to know.”

“I wish I could say goodbye to Ron and Hermione, but… will you just tell them that I'm all right? That I'm happy and that… I'll see them again someday soon? I'd honestly appreciate it.”

“I will,” Dumbledore answered. “Have a good life, Harry.”

“Thank you. You too, sir.”

Harry looked over at Althen, mouthing, “What do I do now?”

“Just will the conversation to end,” Althen instructed gently. “Unless you have something else to add.”

“No.” Harry shook his head, doing as Althen instructed him to. “I'm fine, I think.”

The image of Dumbledore began to fade away, and soon, Harry was merely staring back at his own reflection.

“Here.” Harry handed the incantations and the mirror over to Althen. “Thank you. Thank you… thank you loads. Really.”

“You don't want to keep this communication one?”

“I don't think so,” Harry said. “I already contacted Dumbledore, if I contact Ron or Hermione that might be a little hard for me. I miss them already a lot… besides, I'll be seeing them again one day I think.”

“Harry,” Severus started, frowning, “h—”

“Dad,” Harry interrupted, “I really do think we need to see a bit of Ireland, don't you? Up there for so long… Ireland seems like a great place. It does.”

“That's all very well,” Severus said impatiently, looking grumpy. “If you hadn't interrupted me, however, I was going to ask how you were possibly going to go back to the other reality 'one day' and why.”

“I—” Harry glanced guiltily at Althen, who was staring back at him with a confused look on his face. “Well… you see… I kind of… kept the other incantations. To go to a reality… those ones…?”

Severus stared at Harry blankly. “I was under the impression that you threw those away?”

“I—I couldn't,” Harry stammered, fiddling with the bottom of his top. “I thought I might need them again someday, but you and Sirius wanted them gone so badly…”

Severus said nothing, but his expression was icy. Harry stood up, loving the fact that he was able to walk again, but dreading the fact that Severus seemed to be giving off an unfriendly vibe at the moment.

Harry looked at Nora and Althen, smiling widely. “I don't know how I can thank you enough! Er… Mr Althen, does it matter that I, uh, still have the incantations…?” Harry tried his best not to look at Severus as he said this.

“Oh no, there are more created every second—which might be an exaggeration, but you know what I mean.”

“Created?” Harry echoed, sounding confused.

“Uh huh. There's a spell on it that whenever a child is in desperate need of one it is created, so you having one is hardly the end of the world.”

Harry nodded silently, chilled by the icy vibe that was still emanating off Severus. He wondered if anyone else in the room could feel it.

“How much longer do you think you'll be staying with us—or should you be heading back?” Nora asked. She seemed a little clued in to the icy vibe.

“I'm sure we can stay for, perhaps, a couple of hours longer. You have been gracious to us; I do not like simply up and leaving, but Harry and I really must head back.”

Even Severus's voice had an icy edge to it.

“No, that's perfectly understandable,” Nora said.

Harry glanced sideways at Severus and stayed silent.

--

Severus and Harry packed their things and said much heartfelt thank-you's as well as good-bye's to Nora and Fornacis Althen. But, as much as Harry should have been in a good mood, he definitely was not. Severus, right when they got into the taxi that took them to the airport all the way until they boarded the plane, did not say one word to Harry.

“You can have the window seat,” Harry offered cheerfully as the two went down the aisle searching for their seats.

“No, thank you.”

The words, spoken so carefully and coldly and somehow meaningfully (maybe because they were the only words said to Harry recently), caused Harry to gulp.

So, as soon as they found their seats, Harry took the one by the window, Severus took the one next to Harry and an old man probably in his eighties who looked like he'd rather sleep than do anything else was next to Severus.

Harry stayed quiet, searching for something to say. “It's getting pretty dark out. Nearly nine o'clock… guess we stayed longer than planned.”

“Mm.”

Severus didn't even bother looking at Harry as he made such a simple sound, which made Harry become a little angry. At least he was trying!

“What's wrong?” Harry finally blurted, scowling. “You're acting like such a git! Why?”

“Oh, I am, are I?” Severus snarled.

Harry pinched his lips together and paled, realizing what he said. “W—well—”

“You kept those… papers without telling me,” Severus whispered in a harsh voice. “Did you think you might as well keep them around in case one day I turn around and start being a git towards you?”

Harry flinched at the accusation. “That's not it at all!”

“Mm-hm.”

“I'm serious!” Harry said, more loudly than he should have. He turned pink and lowered his voice. “You heard why I kept them.”

“I'm sure that's the reason,” Severus responded sarcastically.

Harry made a noise of disgust. “You're acting so childish.”

Severus stared coldly at Harry. “Me? Are you forgetting who is the child, here? Who's the father?”

Harry grit his teeth. Of course, Severus was his father by blood… this wasn't an adoption or anything of the sort… he'd need to still get used to this fact.

No matter, he was still angry.

“I don't care.” Harry scowled. “You're paranoid that I'll leave. That's why, before I found out there was a cure for Remus, you kept knocking on my door wanting me to open it up to you. You wouldn't just open the door and come in for yourself. You're afraid you'll do something and I'll just leave. Well you're wrong!”

Severus scowled. “That is not it. It…” Severus faltered, kept scowling, and turn his head away.

They didn't talk once during the rest of the flight.

Chapter Twenty-six

Harry let his head rest against near his window, his eyes glued onto the dark night sky. The lights below from towns and city's absolutely sparkled and flashed against the blackish sky. Harry marveled at how beautiful everything looked when he was up so high in the air.

Severus was positioned in the seat next to him so that his back was almost to Harry. Harry, however, couldn't care less—he still felt a little bit of anger towards Severus.

Harry closed his eyes, pushing his thoughts far away from him, clearing his mind so that all he could hear was the small chatter of the rest of the passengers around him. By the time he opened them again, he could feel the plane landing on the solid ground of the runway, wondering if he hadn't woken up before they were supposed to get off the plane if Severus would have tried to wake him up.

Or, Harry reconsidered, maybe he'd get another passenger to try and wake him up instead. Ever since the plane had went up in the air in Belfast he hadn't tried to make conversation with Harry, hadn't even made a sound in Harry's direction, so Harry doubted he'd start then.

Getting back to their home was also very uncomfortable and quiet. Severus only spoke to the person driving them, but even that was cold and sharp. No wonder, Harry thought, feeling happy for the first time again in hours. It was Evan Taylor driving them.

"I heard that you'd be coming back tonight," Evan said cheerfully. He had insisted that Harry sit up front with him, and Harry was only too happy to accept. "So I thought, of course I'd bring you back home! Did you have fun? How was Ireland, Sport?"

"It was great," Harry said happily, smiling wide. He wondered if Severus was inwardly seething. "Loads of fun."

"Aw, I'm glad to hear it! Severus? How was Ireland?"

Severus made a noise in the backseat before muttering, "Green."

Evan faltered for a minute, and then glanced sideways at Harry, grinning.

"You look good, sport, Ireland must've been good for you. I was actually hoping before you went back to school that you and I could hang out a bit. How does that sound? We could drive down to an amusement park… just the two of us… doing the whole bonding thing! We haven't done anything together in, well, ever."

Harry wished he could see Severus's face in the back without twisting around and staring, but he grinned widely.

"Sounds great, Mr Taylor, that'd be fun."

Of course, he'd rather do anything but 'bond' with Evan Taylor. He couldn't just say that to the man without hurting his feelings though, could he?

Evan laughed loudly. "What have I told you again and again, Sport? It's Evan!"

"Evan," Harry repeated. "Erm… all right."

"Did you know just how long I was waiting for you at the airport?" Evan questioned suddenly. "Five hours! Can you believe it? Five hours. I didn't have a clue in the world what time your plane was coming in. All I told Sirius was, "I'll pick up Severus and Harry!" but I didn't even ask what time your plane would be in at. Foolish, huh?"

Harry laughed weakly. "Yeah."

There was a moment of silence in the car except for the person talking on the radio before Evan decided to speak again to Harry.

"So you and Severus haven't said much to each other. Everything… okay?"

Severus stayed silent, so Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sure."

Evan cleared his throat, leaning a little towards Harry with his eyes still on the road and whispered, "If you ever need to get away once in a while out of the house, kiddo, you know where I live. You can gladly come over anytime you need me, night or day." Evan straightened, speaking louder. "You know I've never had a son before Harry, so I consider you like my own. I do."

"That's, er… nice," said Harry awkwardly. He shifted in his seat to get in a more comfortable position. "Thanks."

"No problem, no problem. Well, here we are… coming down along Mahon Hollow… have you missed home, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry confessed truthfully. "I hope Sirius and Remus are okay."

Evan coughed. Harry looked over suspiciously, but Evan kept his gaze on the road.

"I'm sure they're fine," Evan said with a laugh. "You know Sirius though, he can do anything. Well, here we are… Odlin welcomes you lot back home!"

"Thanks," Harry muttered, grabbing his things as he opened the door to the car. "Er… see you."

"Yeah," Evan called back cheerfully. "Goodnight!"

Severus said nothing. He beat Harry into the house, pushing the door open roughly. Harry could tell that he was in a worse mood than before.

Harry slammed the door shut, not caring how loud he was. He knew it must have almost rattled the house.

"Evan Taylor," Severus muttered under his breath as he threw his suitcase down on the floor. "Of course it was Evan Taylor."

"He's not such a bad guy," Harry said defensively, though he still knew that even he wasn't Evan Taylor's biggest fan.

"No, I wonder why you choose to think that," Severus said sarcastically, glaring at Harry. "After all you were very chummy to the man."

"Oh, come on!" Harry threw his arms up in the air. "That's ridiculous. Are you starting to think that I like Evan Taylor better than you now? That I wish Evan Taylor was my father, and not you?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Remus and Sirius approach them cautiously, looking rather confused.

Severus huffed. "You think what I said was ridiculous. That is ridiculous. Perhaps that incantation did something to your mind?"

"It did nothing to my mind," Harry shot back. "You're just being a huge, insufferable git, just like you used to be!"

Severus looked as if he were ready to explode, though he tried to talk as calmly as he could manage. "Go to your room."

Harry already threw his suitcase on the floor and was making his way up the stairs before Severus even thought of saying that.

"Oh, I'm going," Harry called over his shoulder as he stomped up the stairs. He added sarcastically, "I think I might just go and use the incantation to take me back to my other reality because I'm so angry with you right now!"

Severus ignored Harry's sarcasm as he already left the foyer, yelling loudly, "Good!"

From upstairs, Remus and Sirius heard Harry's door slam shut, and then not a moment later a muffled, loud sound of another door being slammed shut downstairs, probably the one to Severus's study.

"Don't worry about them," Sirius said after a while in a low voice, though he looked slightly concerned. "By tomorrow everything will be fine again between them, I'm sure. I'm going to bed, anyway. 'Night, Moony."

"Yeah, me too," Remus agreed, following Sirius up the staircase. He laughed softly. "Welcome home, Harry and Severus. At least everything looked fine with Harry."

Sirius heard and laughed, too. "And what a welcoming it was."

--

Chapter Twenty-seven

Harry, as soon as he slammed the door shut to his room, didn't bother to try and fall asleep, no matter how tired he might have been. He was irate—which was, naturally, the main cause for his not being able to fall asleep.

He sat down on his floor and moved the floorboard that the incantations were underneath. With a sigh he brought them out and put them down gently on his floor, setting the floorboard in his other hand aside. What was he going to do with these? Would he keep them, no matter? Harry decided that he would, if he was going to keep his promise.

Even though Severus and, most likely, Sirius, wouldn't exactly like it very much.

Harry picked the incantations back up and put them back in their original place; he put the floorboard back in its original place, as well. He stood up, already hearing Sirius and Remus close the door to their rooms. Harry wondered where Severus might be, but then quickly shook the thought away, telling himself that he would not think about Severus right then.

Thinking about what happened earlier would, probably, just make him angrier.

Why did Severus have to be so infuriating?

Harry let out another sigh. Of course, it wasn't just all Severus's fault…

Harry tip-toed to the door, twisting the handle and opening it just a crack. He knew that Severus had told him to go to his room, but he couldn't have meant the whole night. Severus didn't even give him a limit as to how long he had to stay in his room! So, even if Harry just wanted to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, that shouldn't be such a big deal.

He carefully walked down the steps, holding his breath. The house seemed so quiet at night. It usually did, Harry thought. He was sure even just the tiniest creak of the stair would wake everyone in the entire house up—if they were sleeping, that is.

The floor was cold underneath Harry's feet as he walked through the foyer, the dining room, down the hall and into the kitchen. He should've put socks on. It wasn't, after all, a very hot night. In fact it was very cool, and although when Evan Taylor had dropped Severus and Harry off, it wasn't raining, Harry was sure that while he was in his room he could hear the steady beat of the rain pounding against his window. It was either that, or the inside of his ear making that noise.

Harry was sure it wasn't the latter, though. He hopped up on a stool, propping his arms up on the counter, using them as a pillow for his head. He was awfully tired… what if he fell asleep right there, completely forgetting about his thirst?

He would've probably done that, too, if a voice behind him hadn't caused him to jump in the air.

"Feeling tired?"

Harry twisted around to find Severus standing behind him.

"A little bit," Harry answered uncertainly. "I was going to get a drink of water."

"Ah." Severus walked slowly toward the cabinet beside the sink, pulling out a glass which he filled with water from the tap. He stepped forward in front of Harry, behind the counter, and placed the cup in front of Harry.

"Thanks." Harry picked it up, his unsure eyes focused on Severus as he sipped on the water. Severus stared back, pokerfaced. He set the glass back down, though his hands were still wrapped around it, and finally he glanced down at the floor.

"Why did you keep those incantations?" Severus spoke softly, disturbing the still silence. "Did you think you might become sick of everything here and… want to go back?"

Harry sighed as he looked at Severus. "No, no, that's not it at all, Severus. I kept them because, I've always thought… somehow Voldemort has something to do with me." Harry eyed Severus warily. "Does he?"

Severus looked oblivious. "Whatever makes you think that?"

"I dunno." Harry shrugged. "A feeling, I guess." Harry took another sip, studying Severus. "Do you know something? Don't lie to me."

Severus sighed. He walked around the counter and sat down on a stool next to Harry, immediately making a face as he did so.

"This is really rather uncomfortable, isn't it? How can you even manage to sit on these?"

Harry gave Severus a pleading look. "Sev."

Severus glanced over at Harry. "Yes?"

"Come on, Sev."

"All right," Severus said finally after a long pause. "Are you sure, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sure."

"There's a prophecy," Severus began slowly, only to be interrupted by Harry before hewas even able to finish.

"Will you tell me? Word for word?"

"I do not knowthe entire thing word for word," Severus replied, frowning. "However, what I know is: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.'"

Harry stayed quiet, and then after a moment said, "Well, that sounds like that bit could be word for word, anyway. The seventh month? That's… that's July, isn't it? "Born as the seventh month dies"… that would be me?"

Severus didn't say anything.

"I see," Harry spoke again quietly. "Thank you for telling me." He cleared his throat. "It's a good thing I saved that incantation then, it looks like I might need it."

Severus frowned. He knew immediately that he didn't like that sentence. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, I probably need to defeat Voldemort in the other reality, too. So that's what I'll go and do, if he doesn't defeat me."

Severus scowled. "Don't talk like that. Haven't I told you that I'd prefer if you didn't call the Dark Lord that, also?"

Harry sighed once more. "Yes, I'm sorry." He hesitated. "Sev… are we still…? I mean, I just want to know if…"

"Yes," Severus interrupted. "You and I are fine. I—I am sorry."

Harry got off the stool so he would beable to wrap his arms around Severus's neck in a hug. "Me too," Harry murmured, letting go.

Severus blinked, blatantly surprised at the action. He had managed, though, to put an arm around Harry before the boy had pulled away.

"I feel the need to admit…" Severus started, "I was, before, apprehensive with the fact that if you ever became unhappy here, you could easily leave."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

An amused look crossed Severus's face. "Except for the amusement park."

Harry groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, not even there."

"Mm-hm." Severus stood. "If you're finished with your water, I believe it's time for you to return to bed."

"Right." Harry finished the rest of the water and walked beside Severus as they left the kitchen. It was quiet between them until Harry said quietly, "Thanks for telling me about that prophecy, Dad."

"Was it the right thing to do?"

Harry smiled and laughed softly as they reached the foyer. "Yes, it was."

--

Harry walked down the staircase the next morning to the smell of breakfast coming from the dining room and unusual quietness coming from Sirius. Severus wasn't one to talk while they ate, and Remus would only usually reply to something Sirius said. Even Harry didn't talk too much. Sirius would be the one who would try and start up the conversation.

Harry took his seat at the table, his eyes flickering onto every face around him.

"Good morning," he said slowly, only to be greeted by mutterings of the same thing.

"Was what you saw of Ireland all right?" Sirius questioned, glancing up at Harry briefly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it was."

"That's good."

Harry nodded again, unsure of what else he could possibly do. He glanced over at Severus, who had a frown on his face as if he was realizing that Sirius wasn't as talkative as he normally was. When Severus met Harry's eye, he merely gave Harry a look that clearly said: "I don't know."

"I see you didn't burn the house down," Severus commented casually. "Black is still alive, as well, so you didn't neglect him."

"We had tons of fun with Black." Sirius scowled, looking indignant. "He loves batting things around. We took a shoelace… even a piece of licorice."

"I haven't seen Black ever since we came back," Harry admitted.

"He spends most of his time downstairs on one of our chairs," Sirius replied. "I think it's his favorite spot in the entire house."

Harry grinned, and it turned silent around them again. He finally began focusing on putting some food on his plate.

"I have something I need to tell you and Harry," Sirius finally spoke up with his eyes glued on his food. "While you were in Ireland."

There came a sigh from Severus. "What did you do?"

Sirius shifted in his seat. "I have some news…"

There was a clatter as Severus's fork and knife hit his plate. Severus stared blankly at Sirius. "You're pregnant."

Sirius's mouth fell open, a look of pure shock. "What?"

Severus sighed in exasperation. "I was joking, Black, joking!" Severus looked at Harry and shook his head. "Harry, remind me never to joke again, will you? It seems I don't get very good reactions when I do."

"No, you just caught me off guard," Sirius insisted. "That's not it, though. My news was that Alex is moving."

"Moving?" Harry repeated, frowning. "The Alex at the Nameless restaurant? Where's he moving to?"

Sirius nodded. "That Alex. He's moving to Canada, somewhere in the Maritimes." Sirius swallowed, once again shifting his position. "This brings me to my other set of news."

Severus eyed Sirius suspiciously as he hesitated. "Go on," Severus urged.

"Well…" Sirius let out a breath, looking at Severus in the eye as he spoke. "Since Alex was moving, he was going to tear down the Nameless restaurant. So, I—I bought it."

Severus blinked. "You bought a restaurant?"

Sirius nodded quickly. "Yes."

"Aren't they expensive? Did you have enough? Why?"

"Yes, but Alex gave it to me at a really low price," Sirius said. "You know that when you and Harry go to Hogwarts I always work, and I get paid, of course, and I save, so yes I had enough—and because… because you know how much I like that restaurant! We always go there… I couldn't just let it get destroyed."

"Black—"

"Severus," Sirius spoke quietly, almost pleading. "I have enough. At first I—I really didn't know what I was doing but… now I'm sure that I want this restaurant. I just want you to… approve, I guess."

"Approve?" Severus repeated. "You want me to approve of you owning this restaurant?"

Sirius nodded. "Yes."

"Are you up for the responsibility? It is a responsibility, Black, this is a restaurant—"

"I know," Sirius interrupted. "I'm all up for the responsibility, Severus, even when things get tough and look hopeless. Really."

Severus finally nodded his head. "I can't tell you what to do, Black, but I suppose I do approve, as long as you mean what you said."

A wide grin broke out upon Sirius's face. "I honestly do. I have so many plans for the restaurant—especially the theme! I want it to have a permanent theme. Not something stuffy and formal and whatnot… something fun and—and outgoing! What do you think, Severus? Harry?"

Severus shook his head, amused. "It's all up to you, Black."

"Oh, I know," Sirius responded, with a sigh following. "I don't know if I want to to have a theme, but… something nice…. Oh, yes that's right, I ought to be leaving now." Siriusu stood, looking eager. "Are you gonna come too, Rem? You remember these blokes' names better than I do."

Remus nodded. "That's true."

"We'll be back after, Snape," Sirius called as they left the dining room. "Sometime soon we'll be repainting the inside of the restaurant and everything… we will need all the help we can get!"

Severus groaned as the door slammed shut. "I don't want to paint anything."

Harry laughed. "I can't believe he bought that restaurant, though. It's… wow. A restaurant."

Severus gave his head a short shake. "Of all the things, I was not expecting Black to say that he bought a restaurant, that's for certain."

Harry poked the middle of his egg with his fork. "I'm kind of nervous," Harry admitted suddenly, glancing at Severus before he spoke again. "I'll be starting my second year of Hogwarts again, and, well…" Harry trailed off.

"You're nervous about what everyone's reaction will be," Severus finished.

Harry nodded. "When is it going to come out in the Daily Prophet, again?"

"Sometime soon, probably."

"And they're going to print the truth? No exaggerating or adding anything?"

"The truth."

"Good." Harry nodded again and forced a grin. "It shouldn't be too bad, though, right? Not awkward or… uncomfortable?"

Severus looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Do you wish for me to lie to you?"

Harry sighed and shook his head no. "Be honest."

"Very well." Severus paused. "It'll be unbelievably uncomfortable and awkward—I cannot stress that enough. You aren't the same Harry, so everyone will have to get to know you, and you must remember, these aren't really the same people you know, either, so you'll need to get to know them."

"I'll have to keep that in mind," Harry said after swallowing what was in his mouth. "Do you think things will work out okay?"

"I have no doubt in my mind that things will work out fine," Severus answered truthfully.

--

It was almost twelve in the afternoon, and Harry was sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was nice to just take one minute to do absolutely nothing—just stare at the ceiling; relaxed and comfortable.

He propped himself up on his elbows as Black strolled into his room and jumped on his bed. The kitten pressed itself up against the back of Harry's bare foot, resting his head against the top of Harry's foot; lazily, Black's paw rested across Harry's ankle.

Harry chuckled. "Blackie, it seems like I haven't seen you in years." Harry tried to rub Black's head with his toes, but Black didn't seem to like that. "You're getting so fluffy. I hope Dad won't mind hair all over the house."

"I'm sure I'll manage."

Harry looked up, grinning at Severus as he entered the room. Somehow, Harry thought, he looked a little different.

"Look at Black," Harry said in amusement. "He looks very relaxed."

"He also looks very attached to your foot," Severus commented. "He most likely missed you while we were away."

Harry paused, narrowing his eyes at Severus. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Severus said quickly. "But it seems that you have a guest waiting for you downstairs."

Harry's eyes widened slightly. "W—who?"

"You'll have to come down and find out for yourself." Severus began to walk out the door. "You can also take Black with you if you wish, unless he's permanently attached to that foot, in which case he'll need to come along anyway."

Harry quickly stood up, scooping Black up in his hands, and hastily followed Severus down the flight of stairs. He was eager, nervous, uncertain and absolutely clueless as to who the guest was. For him? Maybe it was Dumbledore.

Harry stroked Black's head as the neared the lounge, where Harry figured this guest was. As soon as he walked into the lounge, however, he had to stop dead in his tracks.

"Oh," he blurted, staring in bewilderment. "Hi?"

Harry first glanced at the woman who stood next to the boy, but he was more focused on the boy than anything else.

"Harry." The boy swallowed, looking a bit uncertain. Harry watched as he glanced at Severus, who stood close to Harry, hesitantly, as if not knowing what to say next.

Harry spun around so that his back was facing the guests and in a low voice he asked Severus, "What's Malfoy doing here?"

"You speak a little quieter next time," the blonde boy said with a slight frown. Harry turned around to face them yet again with Black still in his hands. "I'm here because I needed to see if it was true. I needed to see for myself."

Harry nodded slowly. "So… you see."

"Look…" Draco hesitated. "Can we walk?"

Harry inspicuously glanced at Severus, who gave a slight encouraging nod of the head. Then, taking in a breath and letting it out, Harry nodded.

"Sure."

With another look at Severus, Harry walked out of the lounge with Draco not too far behind. It was a quiet walk into the backyard; Harry wasn't quite sure where he was going, but as soon as they stepped onto the green grass Harry spotted a comfy-looking bench, which he went over to sit on, making sure that when Draco sat down as well, he sat as far away as he could.

Draco didn't seem to really notice—or care, Harry wasn't sure which one it was.

"You're not the normal Harry, are you?" Draco questioned suddenly, breaking the silence.

Harry scowled. "I'm normal."

"That's not what I meant… I meant… you're not the same Harry, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"Is everything that was written in the Daily Prophet true?" Draco asked, eyebrows elevated.

"I dunno." Harry shrugged. "I haven't read it."

"Do you want to?" asked Draco quickly. "I brought it just in case."

Harry couldn't help but grin a little as he shook his head. "No, that's okay, but what did it say in the Daily Prophet?"

"It said… that you weren't the same Harry, of course; you were from a different reality." Draco paused, waiting for Harry to confirm, which he did with a nod of his head. "That's mainly what the entire thing was about. You read some sort of something and it sent you here and you want to stay."

"That's pretty much true," Harry admitted. "I have a question: are we really… friends? Even if you're in Slytherin?"

"Well… yes, we are," Draco replied, looking hesitant.

"What about Ron and Hermione? Are you friends with them?"

"Not best friends," Draco said, "but if I wanted to stay friends with you, then I had to get along with them. I tolerate them—they're not too bad."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But you think Hermione is a mudblood and that Ron's a blood traitor."

Now it was Draco's turn to look surprised. "No I don't."

Harry shook his head, trying to process this information. So Draco was actually not as bad as he was in the other reality. This would take some getting used to.

"I take it you're talking about the other me in that other dimension-thing," Draco continued. "Is there another me?"

Harry nodded silently.

"Does he look like me?"

Harry nodded again, still silent.

Draco nodded along with Harry, looking thoughtful. They were both staring at the ground straight ahead of them. Although, Harry didn't know about Draco, but he was staring into space—he just couldn't seem to be able to look away.

"Was that your mother in there with you?" Harry asked, finally looking sideways at Draco, who nodded.

"Yes, it was."

"She looks like you," Harry commented.

Draco nodded again. "I didn't see Sirius anywhere. I think Mother will be a bit disappointed that she wasn't able to talk to him this visit."

Harry was, yet again, taken by surprise. "Why would she be disappointed?"

Draco looked over at Harry. "Well, she is Sirius's cousin. Thing's are still a bit rocky, but I think she's really starting to be quite nice in general."

"What… do you mean?" Harry's brow knitted together.

"Mother and Father divorced when I was eight, and I went to go live with her. I don't know what brought it on, but she wanted to change—for the better, obviously, and to start she needed to be away from Father."

"Oh," Harry said under his breath, nodding slowly. "So you were raised in a good way since your mother wanted to change, which is why you're not such a git…" Draco scowled, and Harry grinned apologetically. "Sorry."

Draco grinned back; yet another thing to add to Harry's continuous list of surprises.

"I suppose Mother and I should be leaving now," Draco said as he stood. "She has a hair appointment soon. I just wanted to come by and see if it was really true."

"Well, it is," Harry said as they walked across the grass, back into the house. "I can't believe Draco Malfoy's really a decent Slytherin—it's sort of hard to believe, but…"

Draco gave a small laugh. "You're not so bad, either. You know you kind of remind me of the other Harry in a way."

Harry was about to reply to that comment when a thought suddenly came to him, causing him to freeze in his spot. He frowned, tilting his head slightly as he gazed at Draco.

"I didn't see you at the funeral for Harry," Harry said quietly. "Or did I?"

Draco looked at Harry quizzically, taking a few steps forward. "What are you talking about?"

"The, uh… the funeral for Harry," Harry said. "You weren't there, I didn't see you."

"Wha—listen, I don't k—"

"I saw Ron," Harry started out slowly, "Hermione, Sirius, Sever—"

"Okay!" Draco suddenly yelled loudly, making Harry jump. "I didn't go to your funeral! I couldn't. You were my best friend. You were always my best friend, and then you leave to go save some bloody Stone, and... you got mad because I didn't want to risk my life right along with you."

Harry blinked, stunned. He realized that Draco was forgetting that he was not exactly the Harry that had been here before… "Mal—Drac—M—but I'm not th—"

"And then you go and die. Expect me to go through the rest of my days at Hogwarts without you. Don't you know how selfish you were? Don't you know what Severus was like afterward? Sirius? The rest of your friends? Which is another reason why I didn't go to your sodding funeral—I didn't want to see everyone all… like people usually are at funerals. Especially yours. That would've meant you were really gone—"

"I'm not—"

"—and I realized what a thick thing you were doing, so I went and told Severus and do you know what? He's the one that found your dead body. He and that Quirrel and you all died that day. What if I had gone down along with you? I know Ron and Hermione went with you, and they had to be left behind, but what if I decided to go, hm? One extra person fighting along with you—your best friend? Maybe things would have turned out differently."

There was such a deep regret in Draco's voice that Harry couldn't help but feel guilty, even though he did nothing.

"I'm here," Harry said quietly. "Just not the Harry you remember."

"That's what kind of hurts the most," Draco admitted, his face twisted in some type of emotion that Harry couldn't describe. Maybe it was pain.

He turned around and walked several more steps forward before pausing and turning around again.

"I wouldn't be surprised if I'm the only one that visited until we go back to Hogwarts," he said emotionlessly. "I spoke a little to Ron and Hermione after the Prophet article, you know. Not very much, but it didn't seem like they wanted to see you again just yet. I imagine it would be a little hard on them, after everything, especially your… your funeral. Just give it time maybe."

Draco turned around again and walked away; Harry stood, rooted to the same spot until he no longer saw Draco's back. He wondered if he'd ever be able to move again.

--

Chapter Twenty-eight

Severus stopped in front of a frozen Harry, his brow furrowed. "Harry? What are you doing there?" Severus took another step forward, his eyes boring into Harry's wide ones with concern. "What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head, in a daze. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't do it…"

Severus took a few more steps closer to Harry. "What are you talking about?"

Harry sank to the floor. Severus quickly knelt down beside the boy, his face still the perfect mask of concern. Harry shook his head head again, coughing. "I can't go to Hogwarts, I can't face any of them," Harry whispered. "He was so angry."

Severus's expression relaxed a little, and he put an arm around Harry's shoulder, letting Harry rest his head against his arm.

"Draco?"

Harry nodded in reply. "It was like he forgot that he was talking to me instead of... him."

"Perhaps Draco needed to get whatever he said off his chest," Severus said quietly. "He couldn't bring himself to go to your funeral, you know."

"I know," Harry said, nodding. "Thanks."

Severus frowned. "For what?"

"Talking to me." Harry grinned.

"I'll always talk to you," Severus answered. "Whenever you need me to."

A sudden knock on the front door made Severus groan. He stood back up to go answer it, but Harry stayed in the exact same spot. He didn't feel like getting up just then.

"Harry," Severus called from the foyer, a rather annoyed tinge to his voice.

Harry frowned and got up, making his way through the dining room and into the foyer, where Severus stood along with—

Evan Taylor?

"Hey, sport, you're all ready—how convenient," Evan commented.

Harry frowned. "Ready for what, exactly?"

"The amusement park." Evan frowned a bit, too, and then burst out laughing. "Don't tell me you forgot already."

Harry shook his head slowly. "I just didn't realize you meant so soon."

"Well," Evan said cheerfully, "speaking of soon, we should go soon."

"Er…" Harry let out a breath, looking at Severus for some help. Severus looked back at Harry, an amused expression playing across his face, but there was also a hint of annoyance. "Uh—" Harry stopped, turning his back to Evan as he stared at Severus pleadingly.

"Is something wrong?" Evan frowned, looking down at Harry in concern.

Inwardly, Harry sighed. There was no getting out of this. Aloud he said, "No. Everything's fine. We should leave."

Evan clapped his hands together. "Exactly what I was thinking! Severus, if you'll excuse us."

"Evan," Severus said icily, "if you'll excuse us, I need to talk to my son."

Severus held onto Harry's elbow as he tugged him forward, over to the bench that Draco and Harry had sat on.

"You don't have to go anywhere with him," Severus said firmly. "I know last night you were just acting that way because you knew it would get to me –"

"I did not!" Harry lied, feeling his face burn. "I was being nice."

Severus made a face. "I'm sure you were. What your intentions were do not matter right now, Harry. What I'm saying is that you do not have to go."

Harry let out a breath, his eyes wandering over to Evan, who was casually standing in the doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"No," Harry finally said. "I'll go. He won't stop bothering me about it unless I do."

Severus's lip curled. "Very well. I'll see you later then."

Harry winced at the harsh tone. "Sev, don't be like that. Please."

"No. It's fine," Severus replied shortly. "Go. Have fun."

Harry's own frustration started to flow through him. He scowled, saying, "Fine, you can be assured that I will. Goodbye."

Harry walked by Severus, trying to force a bright, fake smile on his face as he approached Evan.

"Ready, kiddo?"

"Sure am."

Evan paused, his eyes flickering uncertainly on to Severus, who hadn't budged. "Is everything all right with your father?"

Harry tried not to grit his teeth together. "Fine. Can we just go?"

Without waiting for a reply, Harry walked back into the house. Evan cast Severus a curious glance before he followed the boy.

"You're in an awful hurry," Evan commented lightly as they reached the front door. "Don't you want to say goodbye to Severus?"

"I already did," Harry said, looking down at the ground.

Evan hesitated, clearing his throat. "Yes, well... just wait here, will you? I'll start the car. You lot... talk."

Which is exactly what they didn't do. Harry was nearly tempted to follow Evan right out the door, but thought maybe Severus might apologize for being so... what was it? Envious all the time? But Severus didn't even speak, which brought back a strange sense of deja-vu.

"Harry!" Evan called, sticking his head out the window. "All set?"

Harry started out the door. A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. Freezing, Harry whipped his head around, meeting Severus's eye.

"Have fun," Severus said again, this time in a sincere voice.

Caught off guard, Harry blinked. "T—thanks."

"Be careful," Severus added. "Try not to wander away from Evan Taylor, will you? I don't want you lost or hurt or—"

"Dad," Harry interrupted softly, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "I'm not going to get lost. Or hurt. I'll be home soon."

Severus stared at Harry, his eyes dark and piercing. He gave his head a final nod, then watched Harry leave.

--

Harry's face hovered over a rubbish bin while Evan stood beside him, rubbing his hand in almost soothing circles over Harry's back as he vomited. Two bumber cars, one tilt-a-whirl, one ferris wheel, one swing ride, one teacup and—ugh—one roller coaster ride later.

"I should have waited to give you the popcorn and candyfloss after that roller coaster," Evan muttered. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't realize."

"You didn't realize?" Harry croaked, stopping to gag. He let out a shaky breath. "Can y—you take me home?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Evan agreed quickly. "Are you... done?"

"For now," Harry replied, as darkly as he could. He let Evan put an arm around him, helping him to the car. Harry took slow breaths, in and out, to try and calm himself. When they reached the car, Evan leaned forward to open the door, and Harry slipped inside.

Evan fastened the seatbelt, then hovered in front of Harry, saying, "Now, if you feel like you're going to vomit, then tell me beforehand so I can pull over the car and you can get out and do that. Okay?"

Harry made a face. "I'll try?"

Evan nodded, shutting the door. He was quite disappointed that they'd only been there for fifty minutes; he'd been hoping at the most, two. Perhaps even two and a half. Even though it felt like two hours—oh, the things you can get done within fifty minutes at the amusement park! Next time, he'd make sure to eat after they went on the rides.

--

"Well... you're possessive and, uh, can I say easily jealous." Sirius, eyebrows raised, kept eye contact with Severus the entire time he'd said that, just to prove that there was no kidding around about this.

Severus snorted. "Possessive and jealous? Of course, yes."

Sirius's lips parted in protest. "It's true! You'd go off your trolley every time Harry might come to me with a problem—"

"That is not true," Severus interrupted firmly, scowling.

"Oh, it is true!" Sirius abandoned the paint cans that sat on the floor of his new restaurant and went over to stand next to Severus. "Sit down, will you?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Where do you propose that I sit down at?"

Sirius's eyes travelled about the room. He had a point, Sirius thought. All the tables and chairs had been put in the back room while Sirius and Remus painted the inside of the restaurant. Remus was out getting more paint.

"Here," Sirius said suddenly. "Come over to this booth." He waited until Severus sat down in front of him before he propped his elbows up on the table, leaning forward just slightly as he said, "You're always possessive and jealous when it comes to Evan Taylor."

Severus scoffed. "And you say I am off my trolley? Black, I assure you—"

"No!" Sirius interrupted, his own face twisting into a scowl. He shook his head. "Don't interrupt me, Sev. Let me talk."

Severus blinked, his face going blank. He gave a curt nod, leaning back. "Go on."

Sirius swallowed. "Okay, thank you. Don't even try to argue that you're not jealous when Evan Taylor is involved. You always have been; we all know. So does most of the town, probably. As for Evan Taylor himself, I don't know. Do you even know that you are, or are you just oblivious to it?" When Severus opened his mouth to speak, Sirius hastily added, "And don't even think of lying to me."

Severus closed his mouth, glaring. Then, in a slow voice, he said, "I admit that I can be... envious, yes..."

Sirius grinned. "I'm glad you admitted it; admitting is always the first step. What I've always wanted to know is why? You have no competition with him, that's for sure. You're always first in Harry's eyes." He narrowed his eyes. "Is it because he's always tried to be a better father-figure to Harry than you are?"

"Of course not." Severus made a face. "That man is no more of a father-figure to Harry than—"

"He tries to be," Sirius interjected. "Where did you say they were now?"

"The amusement park," Severus muttered.

Sirius nodded, sighing. "I'll wager Harry's having the worst time and wishes he were with you instead." Sirius leaned forward a bit more. "While we're on this subject, Snape, I think I should let you know that every time you do get possessive and jealous that you should not get so bloody shirty with everyone, especially Harry, because then he gets just as angry with you. You're both stubborn and can both stay angry for the longest time. It's unbelievable."

"I think he was a little angry with me before he left," Severus mused out loud, more to himself than to Sirius.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "I wonder why?"

"Yes, all right," Severus snapped. "I was a little... jealous, I suppose, and—at this point I do believe we should change the subject."

Sirius grinned, relaxing in the seat. "Well, care to help Rem and I paint this place when he gets back?"

Severus stood up, straightening his clothes as he did so. "I don't think so, Black. I'll see you back at the manor."

"He's only been gone for what, forty five minutes? Not even an hour," Sirius reminded Severus in a slightly gentle voice. "I don't think he'll be back just yet."

"Like you said," Severus replied lightly. "He might be having the worst time and wishes he were with me instead."

--

"How are you feeling?" Evan asked hurriedly, briefly taking his eyes off the road to glance at Harry.

"A little gross," Harry muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead. "Do you have to drive so fast? It's... ugh..."

"The sooner we get you home the better everything will be," Evan stated. "Just remember: if you feel like you're going to puke, tell me beforehand so I can—"

Harry's eyes widened and he quickly sat up, puking all over the floor where his feet were. Evan made a startled noise, and Harry spread his feet farther apart, making sure that they didn't go in the vomit. Well, at least he felt better now.

Evan made a disgusted face as he looked down at the vomit, opening his mouth to say something. At the same time, Harry was about to tell him to watch where he was going, but there wasn't a point to that now: the car swerved to avoid something on the road, jerking Harry sideways. The breath was instantly knocked out of him. He blinked rapidly as he started to see spots, trying to make them go away—and that was the last thing he saw.

--

Sirius, closely followed by Remus, practically ran down the white halls of the hospital that seemed to never end. He was looking for someone. Severus, a nurse, a doctor, even a receptionist. Where was everyone? A receptionist should be the easiest thing to—

“Sirius.” Remus took hold of Sirius's arm, stopping him. He nodded his head over to something on the right side of the room. A clutter of chairs were there, with maybe two or three people in total sitting there. Severus was one of the people sitting there, looking unnaturally pale. Sirius felt his heart nearly stop beating. He swallowed, approaching the man. Severus didn't even look up.

“He's here?” Sirius whispered, letting himself collapse in the chair beside Severus. Remus slowly sat down in the one on the other side of Severus.

Severus nodded as if he were in a trance, saying nothing.

“Is he all right?” Sirius pressed.

Severus didn't say anything.

“God dammit,” Sirius suddenly yelled, causing several people around them to stare. “Stop acting like this and tell me what the bloody hell is wrong with him! What happened? You didn't even have the decency to call me or Remus. You told Erny to tell us that something happened and that you were here.”

“He was the first person I met on my way here,” Severus finally spoke up quietly. “I apologize.”

“You better damn well apologize. You took the only car, too.” At this point, Sirius was shaking all over. He tried to calm himself. “Tell me, Snape, what happened; I'm not going to ask again.”

Severus swallowed, his eyes becoming unfocused. The words came out with absolutely no emotion, no feeling. It was like he wasn't even there. “They were in an accident. There was an animal in the middle of the road, Taylor swerved, the car... well.” Severus cleared his throat. “Harry hit his head.”

“Hit his head?” Sirius echoed. “Is it bad? Does he have a concussion? Don't tell me he has amnesia.”

“No,” Severus said, looking down at the floor. “He does not have amnesia. Why are you always assuming someone has amnesia?”

“So?” Sirius scowled, ignoring the last comment. “Snape, tell me. What's the matter?”

“He has a concussion,” Severus finally said a little loudly, still no trace of emotion in his voice. “He's unconscious. They're not sure if he'll wake up.”

Sirius stared at Severus as if he didn't understand. He shook his head, trying to catch Severus's eye, but he kept it focused on the floor.

“They're not sure?” Sirius's frown became more pronounced. “No, no. They have to be sure. They're the doctors, they should bloody well know these things. Look, Harry'll wake up. Maybe in an hour, or two, or two and a half hours. He will.”

“I'm going to go,” Severus said abruptly, standing up. “I'll... see you back at the manor.”

“What?” Sirius stood up, too. “You can't leave. Your son is—you can't leave him here! Don't be so insensitive!”

“I know exactly what my son is,” Severus said slowly and coldly. “And I am not being insensitive. Do you not apprehend how difficult this is at the moment? Do you not realize that this is the third time, perchance, I could lose him? And, if it's somehow slipped your memory, the first time I did lose him. This time... I will not be so lucky to get him back.”

Sirius frowned, ready to say: “Get him back...?” But then Severus had finally made eye contact with Sirius, and as he did, Sirius saw the pain that Severus was feeling. The helplessness. It was probably the second thing they had in common at that moment; the other being how much they cared for Harry. Sirius's body deflated in the chair as he let out a long sigh. He said in a quiet voice as Severus began walking away, “I'll see you back at the manor, then.”

Severus froze, his back to Sirius. He didn't turn around, but his voice was clearly hesitant. “I'm going to get something. Coffee, possibly. I'm not leaving.”

Sirius nodded silently, and Severus continued walking away. Remus put a comforting hand on Sirius's shoulder. Sirius flashed his friend a not-so-genuine smile, squeezing his eyes shut, blocking the world around him.

--

Severus walked down the empty corridor, not sure where he was going, just knowing that he had to go somewhere. Of course, he wouldn't leave, what made him think of leaving in the first place? He just needed to be alone. To collect his thoughts, his feelings. It was just a little too much—he'd been so relieved, thinking that everything was fine. That everything would go back to, well, normal.

He rounded the corner only to come face-to-face with fifteen familiar faces. The one who was leading the group was Maddie.

“Oh, Severus!” The plump, elderly woman threw her arms around Severus's middle in a hug. “We just heard! How's Harry? Oh, Severus!”

Severus made a noise, staying as still as a statue until Maddie let go. He blinked, straightening his clothes. “Harry is unconscious right now.”

Maddie turned to the other fourteen people, her face a mask of horror. The rest of them began whispering to each other.

“He's in a coma,” Maddie whispered to someone behind her, as if Severus wasn't there. She turned around to face Severus again. “When will he wake up, Sev?”

“I don't know,” Severus replied briefly, aching to leave. “I really should g—”

“What about Evan?” a girl in the back asked. “Is he okay?”

“How did you find out about the accident?” Maddie questioned before Severus could answer the girl. “Did the hospital call you? How did they know who to call?”

“Evan Taylor was conscious long enough to say whom they should call. Right now he is most likely asleep, and I do believe that I—”

Maddie placed her hands on Severus's arms, staring deeply into his eyes. “Would you like us to stay with you, Severus?” she asked gently. “We're all here for you.”

“That's quite all right,” Severus replied softly. “Thank you, but—”

“What about Sirius? And that yummy chap he was with? Do you want me to tell them? Last I saw them, they were at the restaurant.” Maddie stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind, I forgot that Erny told them.”

“Thank you for coming down here,” Severus said, his voice firm. “We appreciate your concern, but staying is not necessary. Thank you.”

Colleen Prindle stepped forward, her brow furrowed together. “You'll keep us informed on how Harry's doing?”

“I certainly will.”

“If there's any changes? Anything like that?”

“I will.” Severus let out a small sigh. “If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to Sirius.”

He turned around, walking back the other way. He heard the chatter and shuffle of the people leaving, and he felt a little sense of relief. So many people here, smothering him with questions, it gave him a piercing headache that was like a knife in his head.

All he wanted was quiet. Maybe some coffee. Never really a fan of caffeine, Severus couldn't believe that he was actually craving it.

When would they let him see Harry? He was going to go out of his mind if he wasn't even able to see a glimpse of his son soon. But did he really want to? He pictured Harry laying there, unconscious, battered and bruised. It made him sick to his stomach.

He only wished that Evan Taylor was just as battered as Harry may be. And if he wasn't, it could always be arranged.

--

Severus sat in the chair again, holding an empty cup in his hand while Remus sat quietly beside him, hands folded on his lap with his eyes downcast on the floor, and Sirius on the other side of him, tapping his foot impatiently and fiddling with his thumbs.

“Would you stop that?” Severus snapped.

“I want to go in and see Harry.” Sirius scowled. “This is ridiculous. I'm in a bad enough mood as it is, so don't you go telling me what to do.”

“You're in a bad mood?” Severus growled, a single eyebrow raised. “What do you think I'm in?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You're willing to go home. To leave your own son here alone. Don't get me started, Snape.”

“You have one thing right: he's my son. I give you permission to leave now.”

“Leave?! Like hell I'm leaving. You wanted to leave, so you leave!”

“I will not tolerate you speaking to me in that manner, Black. I think it's best that you leave. You still have that restaurant to take care of, am I wrong? You can sleep in there tonight, as well.”

“I am not sleeping at my restaurant!” Sirius yelled, jumping to his feet. “You can't kick me out of our house. It's ours. Don't be thick. I'm not leaving, either. You can leave.”

“Watch it, Black; I am certainly not leaving .”

“Neither am I!”

“I believe we've established that,” Severus said coldly. “Will you sit down? You're making a scene.”

“Me?” Sirius's mouth fell open. “You're a sodding git. You—”

“Sirius,” Remus spoke up, his eyes fixed on something behind the man.

Sirius froze, slowly turning around to face a doctor. His face was a bright red as he said, “I'm awfully sorry, Doc, I'll keep it down—”

“Mr Snape?”

Sirius shook his head. “I'm Si—”

“That would be me,” Severus spoke up, standing. He stood by Sirius, the empty paper cup still in his hand. He held onto it tightly, crumpling it in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he waited for the doctor to speak.

“You can see your son now,” the doctor said. “He's not awake, but we've done some—”

Maybe Sirius was listening to what he was saying. Maybe Remus was, but Severus certainly wasn't. He'd blocked out every other sound, every other thing going on around him. He followed the doctor into Harry's room. Sirius and Remus's presence brought very little comfort to him. What he did feel was his own heartbeat start to slow down as they approached Harry's bed. There the boy lay, not as bad as Severus had imagined. There was an awful, ugly bruise on Harry's forehead, little cuts and scrapes along his face. His cheek looked like it was starting to bruise, too.

Severus sat down on the side of Harry's bed, his hand pushing back Harry's bangs, letting his fingertip rest gently against the bruise. Harry didn't stir.

“That looks painful,” Sirius spoke up quietly. Severus blinked, momentarily unaware that there were the other two in the room with him.

“Where's the doctor?” Severus questioned, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat.

“He left,” Sirius said. And that was it.

Severus lifted his finger, lightly brushing it against the bruise on Harry's cheek. He traced a cut on the other cheek, then let his hand drop to his lap. He was so still. So pale. It almost reminded him of the last time they were in a hospital, at Hogwarts, with the—

Well.

He averted his eyes, watching Sirius and Remus grab a couple of chairs from the other side of the room, bringing them closer to Harry's bed.

He caught Sirius's eye. “I'm not leaving.”

A sad look crossed Sirius's face. “Neither am I.”

That was all Severus needed to hear. He shifted his position to get a little comfier, not taking his eyes off Harry's unconscious figure.

--

Sometime while with Harry, Severus had fallen asleep. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping for, but when he finally opened his eyes he saw that Sirius and Remus had fallen asleep in their chairs, too. His head was touching Harry's own head, and for a moment he wondered if even that light pressure might be hurting him. Wherever Harry was then, could he feel any pain?

Severus slowly turned his head around to look at Harry. He met the boy's bright green ones, open and staring at him. For a minute, Severus wondered if he was dreaming. Then Harry smiled, and Severus couldn't help but smile back.

“You scared me,” Severus said quietly.

Harry frowned. “I'm sorry.” His voice was hoarse and dry. “I didn't expect you to wake up just then.”

Severus shook his head. “No. I mean you scared me.”

His mouth formed the word, “Oh”, but he didn't say it out loud. Severus brushed Harry's dark hair away from his face, and Harry tried to smile again. It was a little painful.

“I don't know what to say,” Harry finally admitted. “I hurt a little, though.”

Severus looked alarmed, quickly sitting up. Harry shook his head, saying, “No, not because of you. Lay down again. I'm just sore all over. Sev.”

Severus frowned, his eyes flickering over to the dark window as he resumed his position. “What time is it?”

“Around eleven or twelve. Maybe one.” Harry coughed. “The doctors came in when I woke up, and they were going to wake you, but I told them to leave you lot alone. I didn't want them to make you leave. They let you stay, anyway.”

“You should've let them wake me up,” said Severus with a sigh. “I am usually a light sleeper. I can't understand why I didn't wake up when they came in.” He paused, asking belatedly, “When did you wake up?”

“Not too long ago,” Harry replied. He yawned. “Maybe an hour. It feels like an hour. The doctors were surprised; they didn't expect me to wake up so soon, or something.”

Severus stared at Harry, taking in every feature: his nose, his hair, those eyes. To never see those eyes look at him again would've killed him.

“When I was waiting for them to let me see you,” Severus started slowly, “I thought of everything I wanted to tell you.”

What was he doing? Severus stared into Harry's eyes, willing himself to stop talking. He couldn't. It was... Harry. It was Harry, in the hospital, and he didn't die this time. The words, which he thought of so carefully so long ago, came back to him as if they'd never left in the first place.

Harry frowned. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Too many things.” Severus gave a sad attempt at a grin. He swallowed, nearly stopping himself this time, but the words ended up just coming out. “But most of all, I wanted to thank you. You're the one thing that brings me the most joy in my life. You always have, and I could have not been more blessed. I apologize for every time I may be dreadful to live with, and I can be quite stubborn—I apologize for that, too. You're... my son. You came back to me. I never wish to argue with you again."

Severus studied Harry's eyes as the words came out of his mouth, soft like velvet, and so sure. He'd seen Harry's gentle eyes soon change, taking cognizance of the fact that he was no longer talking to Harry. He felt weighed down with guilt, especially since that look in Harry's eyes and on his face showed Severus that the boy knew he was talking to Harry Snape now, and not Harry Potter.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, a strange look crossing his face. Sadness? Pain? Severus wished he could take it away; he hated being the cause of it—what made him say that? What on earth possessed him, why couldn't he stop himself? Severus had meant to say that to Harry in the hospital wing, if he ever woke up... which he hadn't.

He was a horrible, terrible person.

Harry started coughing, bringing his hand to his mouth. Severus snapped out of his daze, asking, “Do you want me to get you something to drink?”

Harry shook his head, still coughing. Sirius stirred in the chair, his eyes fluttering open. As soon as his eyes were focused, and he saw Harry was awake, he jumped up.

“You're awake!” Sirius's eyes widened, looking at Severus. “Sev, he's awake!”

Severus raised an eyebrow, his expression somber. “I see that, Black.”

Sirius frowned. “He's coughing. Sev, why's he coughing?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Severus said irritably. “Why does anyone cough?”

“I'll get him something to drink.” Sirius looked conflicted, his eyes going back-and-forth between the door and Harry. It looked like he'd rather stay than go, but after he woke Remus up—loudly yelling in his ear that Harry was awake—he took Remus with him to go find water, flashing Harry a bright, happy smile before he left, and giving Severus a rather odd look.

“Sometime soon he'll get kicked out,” Severus mused as Harry's coughs relinquished. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, actually.” Harry rested his head against the pillow again. He swallowed, not meeting Severus's eye. It looked like he was having a hard time ignoring Severus's speech. “How's Mr Taylor?”

“I'm not sure,” Severus said truthfully, his voice going hard. “I'm here for you, Harry, not him. Do you need anything else, other than water? Are you hungry? Do you need an extra pillow, possibly?”

Harry shut his eyes. “Just more sleep, maybe.”

Severus let out a small breath. “You'll wake up in the morning.”

It wasn't so much a statement as it was a question. Harry didn't grin: his mouth stayed in a straight, thin line, and his eyes remained closed.

“Of course I'll wake up in the morning,” he said, barely audible. “I need you, and you need—,” Harry faltered, not daring to open his eyes. “You need.... Uh, I'm knackered, Severus. I'll just see you in the morning.”

Sirius came back in the room holding a plastic cup of water. Sirius looked at Harry's still figure and set the cup on the table next to the bed. Severus let out a small breath, not quite believing what just happened.

“Is he sleeping?” Sirius questioned softly, sitting back down in the chair.

“I imagine that he is,” Severus replied. “Where's Lupin?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, letting out a breath. “Some woman caught him in the hall. She wasn't that dishy, and I think he wanted me to make up some excuse so that we could leave and she wouldn't have a chance to flirt. So I left him there.”

“How kind of you.” Severus paused. “Black, I did not intend to act so...” Severus trailed off, trying to find the right word to express what he meant. He merely stared at Sirius when he gave up the attempt.

A faint smile crossed Sirius's face. “I know, neither did I. Waiting for news if Harry would be okay, if he'd recover... it brought back a few memories, didn't it?” Sirius looked away, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “There's a lot of stress. Fear. Torture. It's not like this is the first time we started bickering after something happ—”

Severus frowned. “I know. There's no need to get into anything. Can we merely be thankful that he's fine and move on? I despise dwelling on the past.”

“I know you do,” Sirius replied. “You barely showed any emotion when Harry died. You just kind of... closed everything off....”

Severus made a face. Of course Black would bring up this conversation, out of all the times. “Because I made no public display of emotion you assume that I—”

“I don't want to get into anything,” Sirius interrupted hastily. “I'm just saying, Snape. You have to let go.”

“Let go?” Severus repeated. “Of what, Black?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, giving Severus a look. “Of Harry.”

Severus's eyes fluttered shut momentarily in annoyance. “There's no need to 'let go' of Harry, he's right—”

“I heard you,” Sirius said quietly. “I thought for a minute I might've been dreaming, but I don't think I was. How could you do that, Severus? It was plainly blatant that you meant to say that to Harry Snape. Can't you understand how much that must've hurt this one here?”

Severus glanced down at Harry's immobile figure beside him. “Not now, Black, not now.”

“Yes now,” Sirius argued, he shook his head, his brow furrowing together. “What happened, Sev? You were fully aware that it was a different Harry, I know you were. And then you slipped, and it wasn't even a minor slip. It was... painful. What happened?”

“I said not now.” Severus scowled. “This isn't the most appropriate time for this. I'm well aware of what happened, and if I could take it back, I most surely would.”

Sirius sighed dolefully. “Goodnight, Severus.”

Severus slowly lowered his head on the pillow, next to Harry's. He was, admittedly, disgusted with himself. He turned to his left, staring at the wall, murmuring only the quietest, “Goodnight, Sirius.”

Harry woke up the next morning to find his room empty. He quickly sat up, eyes scouring the entire room—then finally, they landed on Severus, who was standing to the right of his bed, where the table was. On it was a tray of food and water.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Severus said. “That cafeteria is remarkably unsanitary.” He made a face.

“Am I able to leave today?” Harry questioned eagerly.

“I don't think so,” Severus replied, giving Harry a look. “Perhaps you should give it another day.”

Harry sighed, meeting Severus's eye. For a minute, he was tempted to argue with the man—until the thought left his mind, his eyes wandered over the hospital room as another thought entered his mind. He asked, “Where's Remus and Sirius?”

“They left as soon as you fell back asleep,” Severus replied. “They had to get up early due to something with Black's restaurant. Now, are you going to eat?”

“All right, all right.” Harry groaned as he sat himself upright.

Severus frowned. “Are you hurting?”

Harry grinned weakly. “Just a little.” He stared down at the plate of food, licking his cracked, dry lips. Then he made a disgusted face. What was this? Some sort of orange-looking soup, vegetables, lumpy potatoes and a sandwich. He looked up, meeting Severus's eye.

Severus sighed. “What's the matter?”

“What... is this?”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “Your lunch.”

Harry swallowed. “There was no... no chips? Or, maybe... chicken noodle soup instead of this orange stuff? Or macaroni—” Harry silenced himself at Severus's look. After swallowing back a sigh, Harry picked up a plastic spoon and began twirling it in the orange soup.

When Severus spoke again, his voice was unusually soft, quiet and distant. “I should have, perhaps, waited until you woke up before I went to get food for you. I had forgotten that... you may not have liked tomato soup like the other Harry once did.”

Harry became unbelievably uncomfortable as the events of last night flooded back into his mind. How could he have forgotten?

“No, no,” Harry said quickly. “I might like it, I just haven't had it before. Tomato soup, you say?” Harry dipped the spoon in the bowl then brought it to his lips, urging them to part. He forced the spoon inside his mouth, finding it even worse to swallow. When the taste in his mouth became too much to bear, he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed.

Harry heard Severus sigh. “Harry....”

“There, see?” Harry managed to get out, coughing. “Mm! Yummy.”

“Harry.”

Harry ignored Severus, his spoon plunging back into the soup again. This time, as Harry brought the spoon to his mouth, Severus placed a firm hand over Harry's.

“Harry,” he said again forcefully. “Do not make yourself eat something you dislike just because the other Harry chose to like it.”

Harry turned red, lowering the spoon back into the bowl. He refused to meet Severus's gaze. How could something like this happen? Harry had been so sure that Severus knew that he and Harry were not the same person... he just never realized that he would ever feel this hurt about it.

“I am truly sorry about last night,” Severus said. “I'm sure you're well aware of what exactly I'm talking about. I just hope that you understand.”

“Sure,” Harry said, too lightly. “I understand. You just had a lot that needed to be said to your actual son, and you found the perfect chance with me and the accident and everything. And I understand that you probably wish your son was here instead of me, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Harry lifted his eyes, giving a false smile. Severus opened his mouth to say something when there was a knock on the opened door. Severus looked around, expecting Sirius. Instead, he was greeted by Evan Taylor, who had multiple cuts on his face and a bruised eye of his own.

Instinctively, Severus stood up.

“Ah, here you are...” Evan chuckled nervously, wringing his hands. He didn't move any closer. Perhaps it was because of the dark, hateful glare that Severus was giving him?

Harry straightened, eyes widening in what Severus could only describe as genuine concern.

“Mr Taylor,” Harry said, not taking his eyes off the man in the doorway. He wiggled out of the blankets, trying to stand up.

“Oh, no, no,” Evan said quickly, taking two quick strides into the hospital room. He gave Severus another nervous glance. “Stay in bed, Harry. I just came in to check on you. I'm so, so sorry—you have no idea. This was not what I had in mind at all, and agh, I feel so bad—”

“As you should,” Severus growled darkly.

Harry scowled. “Severus,” he said in a stern voice. He focused on Evan again. “How are you, Mr Taylor?”

“How am I?” Evan let out a laugh of disbelief. “I should be asking you how you are! The first thing I thought of when I came to is 'how is Harry?' and then when they said I couldn't see you I—”

“We get the picture, Mr Taylor,” Severus spoke up in a smooth, curt voice. “Not to be impolite, but could you be so kind as to leave?”

Evan frowned, looking almost hurt. “Severus, I honestly am very—”

“There is no need to finish that sentence.” Severus raised an eyebrows. “Now, if you would be so kind...?”

Pressing his lips together from saying anything more, Evan cast one more pained look at Harry and then turned around and left the room. Severus's erect figure soon relaxed as he sunk back down in his spot on the bed.

Harry scowled. “You didn't have to be so rude.” At Severus's astonished stare, he added, “He was just checking up on me. He was worried. He may try too hard and you may feel threatened—Merlin knows why—but he wasn't that bad at the amusement park. I've never been to one before and it was kind of nice. The... the bumper cars, the roller coasters—ah, well, never mind, but most of it was nice.” Harry took a minute to get his breath. “The accident wasn't his fault. I puked everywhere and then....”

“Hm.” A stony look appeared on Severus's face. “All this, just to spite me.”

Harry couldn't believe his ears. With some difficulty he sputtered, “Spite? You think this is to spite you now? I am one hundred percent serious, Snape: this has nothing to do with you or spiting you!” Harry blinked in bewilderment, looking startled. “S—Severus; Severus.”

Severus lost all emotion. He composed himself: standing up, straightening his robes, trying to look detached and indifferent. Just in doing so, the nurse came in with a frown on her face.

“What's all the commotion?” she questioned.

“I must leave now,” he said shortly. “Lots to do. I'll be sure to have someone check in on you soon. Get well.”

Someone. Not him, someone.

Harry watched Severus leave, suddenly feeling lonely and empty. The food still sat untouched on the table, and there was no way it was going to be touched now. Turning on his side, away from the nurse and the food, Harry spent the rest of the day staring at the blank, white wall before him.

--

Sirius eyed Severus, who sat in the same booth as he did last time, as he wiped the back of his hand that was not holding a paintbrush over his forehead.

“I don't understand you,” he said to Severus. “You and Harry have been fighting more lately than I can ever remember you lot fighting.”

“You've noticed it too,” Severus said in a dull voice. “How very fascinating.”

“Don't be like that.” Sirius frowned, setting the dripping paintbrush onto the lid of the paint, then walked over to Severus. “It's not unnatural for father and son to argue and things like that. It's unnatural for a father and son to not argue over something. I just think that it's bound to happen when you have the temper of Harry and the temper of Severus together....”

“Don't act like you know everything,” Severus snapped. “I've known from the very start that this is not the same Harry that I've raised, Black. I've known—”

“That we raised.”

“—that; it's not as if it's anything new to me. Sometimes... sometimes its easy to just forget. I have been forgetting. He thinks that I rather have the other Harry here than him.”

Sirius frowned. “Well Sev, it is easy to forget. I'll admit that, perhaps for a moment or two, it slipped my mind that it wasn't the same Harry. Some day soon that won't happen anymore. And what did you say to him about that? I mean, we both wish that Harry was still here, of course we do! But... we both love this Harry and wouldn't trade him for anyone. Did you tell him that?”

“No... Evan Taylor interrupted us. Can you even fathom how much I wished to hex him?”

Sirius groaned. “But you didn't.”

Scowling, Severus stood up. “Of course I didn't. Get me a brush, will you? I refuse to sit any longer.”

Sirius shook his head, grabbing a brush and handing it to Severus, then went over to grab his own brush. He paused, waiting for Severus to continue speaking. But he didn't. He glanced over at the man to find him painting one spot on the wall over and over again, as if not realizing that that part was already done.

“Hey, hey, woah!” Sirius went over, taking the brush out of Severus's hand. “What's the matter with you? Just go back over to the hospital and apologize to Harry like you have been. Tell him how you feel and soon enough, when everything is calm and normal, you'll realize that you two aren't fighting anymore. He should be going back to Hogwarts for his second year soon enough, so....”

Severus gave Sirius a dirty look. “I am not a woman; I do not share my feelings. Hand over that brush to me, Black.”

“No way,” Sirius said. “I don't want you ruining my lovely walls.” He set the brush aside, out of Severus's reach. “Now are you listening to me? I know that no one can ever replace Harry Snape. I know that. Harry Potter is much different in many ways; I know that, too. But Harry Potter is in every way as good, kind and special as Harry Snape was. There are even many things about Harry Potter that remind me of our other Harry, you know?”

Severus looked like he was about to reply, but then thought against it. Sirius held back a sigh and continued. “Sev, I know you love Harry Potter just as much as you loved Harry Snape. You know I'm not good at making motivational speeches or any kind of speeches for that matter, so all I'm going to say is that you should tell him that.”

Severus gave his eyes a swift roll. “He knows that, Black. Besides, this is just ridiculous. I am very well aware that they are two different Harry's, so this shouldn't be posing any type of problem!”

“Well, it is,” Sirius pointed out. “Otherwise you wouldn't be here.”

Severus's lip curled. “All right, very well. You should go to the hospital and see how Harry's managing. I need to sort a few things out before I see him after today.”

Sirius wiped his hands on his dirty jeans. “Sounds good, I need a break from all this painting. If you see Remus when you go home, will you tell him that the green that was supposed to be lime green is a puke green and that he should know the difference? I had the color chart right there, and I said to him, 'Moony, this—'”

“That's all very well,” Severus interrupted abruptly. “You might as well save that story for when I truly have the energy to pretend to listen.”

Sirius screwed his face up at Severus, then rolled his eyes.

--

For the past however many minutes Harry had been alone, nurses and doctors had all come in to check on him. So when he heard movement by the door, it was no surprise that he suspected that it was one of the nurses again.

“Harry?”

Harry quickly turned around on his other side, wincing as he did so. Instead of facing Severus, he was facing an alarmed-looking Sirius.

“You shouldn't have moved so quickly,” Sirius reprimanded gently. “You hurt yourself, kid.”

“Thanks,” Harry said sarcastically, resuming the position on his side facing the wall again. “I really needed someone to point that out to me.” At Sirius's glare, Harry let out a small sigh and apologized.

“It's all right,” Sirius said slowly. “Both you and Snape are in foul mood's today.”

Harry perked up, rolling over again. “You talked to Severus?”

Sirius nodded.

“Does he—?” Harry stopped. “Never mind.”

Sirius dragged a chair over to the other side of Harry's bed, by the wall. He lowered himself on to it, trying to choose how he was going to word this next.

“I know about what happened last night with what Severus said,” Sirius started, faltering. He scratched the side of his side.

“What he meant to say to the other Harry?” Harry put in, frowning.

“He didn't mean it just for the other Harry,” Sirius explained. “He meant it for you too.”

Harry snorted, pushing his bangs out of his face gently, avoiding the tender bruise. “I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“He really—”

“We didn't have this problem before,” Harry interrupted loudly, sitting up. “I thought everything was clear that I'm not the same Harry. We must've said it loads of times. Why now?”

“Maybe seeing you in a hospital brought back some unwanted memories.”

Harry sighed, looking almost desperate. “Memories that have nothing to do with me! Can't... can't you just see this Harry and remember that it's not him, but me? That even though we look the same we're not—”

“We do, Harry—”

“No, I don't think you do!”

Sirius sighed, massaging his temples. “People have got to stop interrupting each other.” He lowered his hands and gave Harry a look. “Will you stop interrupting me if I promise to stop interrupting you?”

Silently, Harry nodded in agreement. “Can we stop talking about this now, please?”

Sirius stood up, grinning. “Yeah.” Then he leaned forward, ruffling Harry's hair gently. “Don't worry too much about you and Snape, though. You both have tempers; you both tend to get angry and frustrated easily. This'll pass by tomorrow when you're back home, kid. Hey, did I tell you about the rumors going on around town about you? They can really exaggerate things.”

--

Severus was sitting on his bed with a pile of something on one side of him and a box on the other. That's how Remus found him when he walked into the room.

“Severus?”

Severus twisted his head around. “Lupin. Do you need something?”

Remus shook his head. “Just wanted to see how you're doing.”

“I am fine.” After a moment's pause, with Remus still standing in the doorway, Severus frowned. “Is there anything else?”

Remus slowly shook his head, staring at the box that Severus now held in his hands. “What are you doing?”

“Ah.” Severus glanced briefly down at the black, velvet box. “It's....”

Remus came in closer to inspect it. He looked down at the pile of photographs, then peered into the box, where a few more already lay. His lips parted in realization.

“You're putting the photographs of Harry away,” he stated softly. “Are you sure, Severus?”

“I feel it's the best thing to do,” Severus said shortly.

Remus hesitated. “You're not going to keep at least one out? You wouldn't want to put every memory of him in a box, surely?”

Severus looked down at the pictures, pursing his lips. “I suppose I'll keep a few out,” he finally said decidedly. “I just feel that, perhaps it's time for some new photographs?”

Remus smiled sadly. “I think that may be a good idea.”

Severus plucked out four pictures from the pile, putting them in a new pile altogether. The rest, he placed gently in the velvet box, tucking the said box gently into the top drawer of his nightstand.

“Sirius should be back soon,” Remus said as he started out the door. “I'd imagine visiting hours should be up. I can tell him to lock everything up when he gets back if you're going to sleep.”

“No,” Severus said quickly, standing. “I'll lock up.”

When Sirius came home shortly afterwards, and when Severus was sure that Remus and Sirius were in their rooms, he slipped out of the house as quietly as he could. It didn't take long to get back to the hospital, and up to the third floor. Just outside Harry's door, he was met by a nurse, who told him that Harry was sleeping, and there were five minutes left until visiting hours were over.

Severus had nodded his head, thinking the entire time that perhaps it was best if Harry was sleeping. He stepped into the room, drawing closer to Harry's bed. The boy looked so peaceful. His bruises didn't look as bad as they had yesterday, either, and the cuts on his face were starting to heal a little bit.

Severus found he had a much better time whispering an, “I'm sorry” to the boy when he was asleep rather than if he was awake. But, either way, that wouldn't stop him tomorrow from saying 'I'm sorry' again when Harry was back home.

--

Harry loved coming home. He'd only been in that hospital—what, a day?—and he was already sick of it. Now, he was home. The first place he ever really, truly considered his home, other than Hogwarts.

Harry was rather petulant that morning when Severus hadn't arrived to pick him up. No, he'd made Sirius come and get him instead. Sirius didn't mention anything of it—he was in a buoyant mood, acting as if nothing was wrong when something was wrong.

Harry didn't talk much on the car ride home. If Sirius asked a question, he answered it. Harry had other things on his mind, like what was so important to Severus that he couldn't—wouldn't—come to pick his own son up? Oh, but of course, he wasn't really Severus's son, was he?

As they approached the house, Harry was relieved to see that there were no townspeople cluttered around the house, waiting for Harry's return. Did they even know?

“Sirius!” Harry suddenly blurted out as Sirius passed right by the house. “Where are you going?”

“Hm?” Sirius glanced sideways at Harry, frowning. “Oh, right, yes. A bloke left some paint at the Hall that I'm supposed to pick up today. You don't mind if I do that now, do you?”

“Er... no,” Harry said, frowning as well. “Paint? For your restaurant?”

Sirius nodded brightly. “It's coming along really well. You'll be impressed. I just need to pick this paint up and then I think the painting might be finished! Oh, actually, no, I still have to finish the border.” Sirius sighed. “Someday soon I'll be done.”

He pulled into the parking lot, pressing his foot against the break abruptly as he tried not to go over the curb. Harry had to grab on to something to keep him from jerking forward. One car accident was quite enough.

“Severus said that he couldn't believe that muggle ever gave me my license because he thinks I can't drive,” Sirius said as he shut off the engine. “I think I'm fairly good, don't you? It's loads of fun sometimes, driving. We both had to get our license when we moved here and everything,” he continued. “Snape's just so precise when it comes to driving.” He made a noise, shaking his head.

“Well...” Harry trailed off. “You're an... interesting driver.”

Sirius chuckled. “Thank you. Want to come in and help me?”

“Help you... lift a bucket of paint?”

“No, no. You can just tell me if you like the color or not. I need your feedback here, kid.”

Harry nodded in agreement, unbuckling his seatbelt. He stepped out of the car and followed Sirius through the doors of the Hall. For it being the morning, with the sun shining brightly in the sky, the Hall was unbelievably dark. Within a minute, Harry realized it was because none of the lights were on.

And then he saw why.

“Welcome home, Harry!”

Harry blinked, startled when the lights turned back on as soon as everyone yelled that, repeating exactly what was written on the banner that hung in the back of the room. The whole town wasn't there, but if Harry had to estimate, he would've guessed that there were fifty people there, including Severus and Remus.

He felt arms wrap around his waist, and glanced down to see a woman who he recognized as Maddie, hugging onto his middle.

“You're back! Ooh, you were the talk of the town, luv! We haven't had something dramatic happen in this town since Danny Zukerman drove his car right through the DIY store two years ago!”

Harry laughed weakly, embarrassed. Sirius put an arm over his shoulder and led him over to Severus.

“This is quite the welcoming home, Sev,” Sirius said brightly. “You've put it together nicely.” He put a fist to his mouth, coughing. “Hey, Moony? There's this, uh, bucket of paint over there that I need your feedback on. The color of it, for the restaurant. Why don't we just go over here?”

Sirius winked at Severus, pulling Remus away from the two. Harry shifted, uncomfortable.

“Harry,” Severus started, unsure, only to have Harry cut him off.

“I hope you know how difficult it is to feel like you're competing with someone who isn't even around anymore,” Harry said bitterly. “I don't want to sound uncaring or unsympathetic either, I just didn't really think it was an issue, until this.”

“It's not,” Severus said curtly. “Now, will you let me talk to you without cutting in?”

“I don't know if I want to hear what you've got to say,” Harry replied stiffly, his expression cold.

“You will whether you like it or not,” Severus snapped, no longer looking tolerant. “I won't withstand that tone, nor your impudence. If I hear something like that from you again, you'll be in your room until it's time for us to leave for Hogwarts.”

Harry flinched. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, then closed it.

“Look at me,” Severus suddenly whispered, the change of voice nearly causing Harry to look up. When he didn't, Severus said a little more forcefully, “Look at me.”

Harry finally did just so. He didn't move when Severus placed his finger underneath Harry's chin. He simply stared back, waiting for Severus to speak.

“Harry Potter,” Severus said gently. “My son. I love you. I will always love and miss my other son, but you are as much mine as he was.”

Harry felt his breath get caught in his throat. Then, much like Maddie had done earlier to him, Harry threw his arms around Severus's middle and hugged his father tightly, his cheek resting against the softness of Severus's robes.

“I love you too, Dad... my dad.”

Harry wasn't too eager to let go of Severus as someone started speaking. To his embarrassment, he couldn't place the speakers' name, even though she did look familiar. One of the ladies who presented Black to him?

“I just wanted to welcome Harry home,” she started, “back with his father, godfather and everyone else who has a special place for Harry in their hearts. I want to wish him a speedy recovery and the best of luck in the new school year. I also want to wish Sirius Black luck with his new restaurant—”

“About that!” Sirius suddenly yelled out. Near the back of the room with Remus, he quickly ran up to the front. “I want to let everyone know that I have some news about that restaurant. Firstly, I want everyone to welcome my new partner, Remus Lupin!” Everyone clapped—and to Harry's amusement, someone even wolf-whistled. Sirius scowled at whoever did that. “No, Benny, that was not meant in a dirty way.” He sighed. “Anyway, secondly,” Sirius continued, “Remus and I have decided on a name. I wanted to call it Padfoot's Place....”

Harry's smile grew wide as Sirius looked directly at him, winking. It seemed so long ago when that conversation, as well as that name, had been brought up.

“...But since Remus and I are partners now,” Sirius continued, “we've decided on Padfoot and Moony's.”

Everyone at the Hall burst into applause. His cheeks aching from smiling so much, Harry still clapped loudly along with everyone else, and Severus joined in soon enough. As soon as everyone began settling down again, Harry felt a hand on his back. It was Severus.

“Shall we leave?” Severus asked. “I'm sure they'll understand.”

Harry glanced back at the people before following Severus discreetly out the doors. “I still have to get my things for second year.”

“I went yesterday and bought them all for you,” said Severus. “I suspected that you wouldn't have the energy to get them.”

Harry let out a breath of relief, squinting his eyes in the sun. “Well, at least Dobby didn't show up this year.”

Severus's brow furrowed together. “Pardon?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.” He grinned up at Severus. “Maybe things'll be different this year.”

Severus looked down at Harry, his expression clearly showing that he had no idea what to make of that statement. He merely said in reply, “Maybe.”