Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the high arched window. Its rays illuminated the slumbering red and gold bird perched on a bronze stand beside the headmaster’s mahogany desk and fell across the faded rug covering much of the stone floor.

A man sat in an armchair across from the desk, perfectly still although his tensed muscles betrayed his impatience. He was in his mid-thirties, although the deep lines on his face made him look older, and had jet-black hair that brushed the collar of his ebony robes. Just like Albus, he thought crossly. To insist on this meeting and then not even be here when I arrive.

But it really wasn’t like Dumbledore and considering the grievous injury his old friend and mentor had recently suffered, his absence was worrying. Abruptly, the man leaped from his chair and stalked around the room, his robes billowing as he made his way by several spindly-legged tables with interesting silver contraptions atop.

“Impatient, aren’t we? Students today have no---,”

The man glared at the speaker, a disagreeable-looking older man in a portrait hanging on the wall. “I have not been a student for some years now, Phineas, as you well know. And my time is valuable.”

Resuming his pacing, he scanned the rest of the collection of portraits, all former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. “Do any of you know where Albus is, and why he is not in his office after practically demanding that I see him this afternoon?”

“Despite what you may believe, Professor,” Phineas Nigellus replied loftily. “Dumbledore does not confide his every move to us.” A hint of concern played over his features. “Although after his last escapade, perhaps he should.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” A woman with silver ringlets spoke from several portraits down the wall.

The black-robed man was in no mood for reassurances. “Go and visit St. Mungo’s, Dillys.” He turned his back on the portraits and walked over to the window.

At the same instant, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the doorway behind him and came to a halt. To observe Severus Snape without the the other man’s awareness was a rare thing. Severus was naturally very alert to his environment and his service as a spy had only improved his abilities.

Usually people only saw what Severus wanted them to see—an aloof, disdainful man with a perpetual sneer, always ready to intimidate or wound with an acerbic comment. Only with Dumbledore did Severus lower his defenses and then only briefly. Now, as the Potions Master stared out the window, his expression seemed sorrowful. His shoulders bent slightly as though the burden he carried had grown too heavy.

Dumbledore wondered if anyone else had ever seen the pain and aching loneliness behind Severus’ mask. Perhaps one girl; a pretty kindhearted girl with long red hair and emerald eyes that pierced the façade. But in the end Severus had pushed her away, too. After all, not very many people can help an injured dragon. It spits fire at anyone who gets too close and a person can only take so many burns. In any case, the girl had died long ago.

Thinking of her reminded Dumbledore of the reason for this meeting and he swept into the room, saying lightly, “Ah, Severus, I’m so sorry for making you wait. I had to speak with Kingsley Shacklebolt and it ended up taking a bit longer than I had anticipated.”

Severus had turned from the window at the words, and watched silently as the headmaster entered. Although his movements were quick and energetic, Dumbledore looked tired and uncharacteristically rumpled. His rich green robes were wrinkled and his snowy hair and beard mussed. A thick white bandage covered his right hand and arm and from the way he held it, Severus could tell it pained him.

In spite of himself, Severus’ irritibability slipped away when the headmaster could not hold back a weary sigh as he sank into his chair and motioned for the Potions professor to sit with his left hand. Ignoring the request, Severus walked over to stand beside Dumbledore and started to reach for the injured arm.

“Do you need more elixir, Albus?” He questioned, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“No, no, I’m well enough. Thank you, Severus. I’m more tired than anything.” Dumbledore again motioned for his companion to take a seat and waited until Severus had settled into his chair before speaking. “I need a favor.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Last week I moved Harry from Privet Drive to the Burrow—“

“Are you sure that was wise, Albus?” Severus couldn’t keep from interrupting. “Now that You-Know-Who has declared open warfare, I would think Potter should be with his relatives more than ever. It is the safest place, correct?”

“Yes, I’ve had doubts about moving him,” Dumbledore replied. “I admit I may have made a mistake in this. But Harry is grief-stricken and in great emotional pain. He needs to be with people who love him.”

Severus waved a hand. “His physical safety must be our top priority. People recover from emotional pain.”

Do they, Severus? But Dumbledore knew better than to voice that thought aloud. “Molly, Arthur, and I have gone to great lengths to ward the Weasley home. Minerva and I have been taking it in turns to keep watch over Harry as well. There is still some degree of risk, but I believe it is an acceptable one in exchange for Harry receiving the care he desperately needs.”

“Well, since you’ve already made up your mind, let’s move on,” Severus arched his eyebrows. “About this favor you need?”

“Yesterday Minerva had to leave for a family emergency. Her niece has disappeared.”

Severus remembered the girl from her years at Hogwarts. A tall girl with long black hair, pale skin, and dark blue eyes. She’d been rather good at potions, even if she had been a Gryffindor. She’d be in her mid-twenties now.

“I remember Sara,” He remarked quietly. “What happened?”

“She didn’t show up for her shift at St. Mungo’s. Someone went to her cottage to investigate. It had been broken into, and there was the Dark Mark above it.” Dumbledore said heavily.

Both men were quiet for a few moments. Then Dumbledore spoke again, more briskly. “You know I’ve been working on a special project for some time now, and I’ve stumbled across a particularly promising lead. I must follow it up immediately.”

Severus had already figured out where Dumbledore was going with this conversation. He scowled. “There are other Order members, Albus. Perhaps Lupin could make himself useful for once.”

“Remus is already on a mission and I can’t justify calling him back when you are available,” Dumbledore answered serenely.

“I’m not available,” Severus snapped. “I’m in the middle of brewing some very complex potions. If I abandon them now, they’ll be ruined.”

“But as you yourself pointed out, Severus, Harry’s safety must be our top priority. Like it or not, you are the only Order member who can devote the next few days to protecting him.”

The Potions Master’s lips tightened in impotent anger. To be dragged away from the peaceful solitude of the dungeons, to lose the weeks of work that had already gone into creating his potions, and that he should have to give it up to watch over Potter of all people!

“What if You-Know-Who summons during the time I’m babysitting precious Potter?” He demanded.

“If that should occur, you may contact Mundungus Fletcher and he will stand guard until you are able to return,” Dumbledore answered.

It was on the tip of Severus’ tongue to demand that Fletcher be assigned the task of watching over the wizarding world’s One Great Hope, but as soon as he recognized the thought, it died. Mundungus Fletcher had his uses, but he was not renowned for either his powers or his courage. That Dumbledore would suggest him as even a last resort meant that the other Order members were indeed occupied with extremely important matters.

Glaring furiously at the floor, Severus was strongly tempted to relieve his frustrations with a good, hard kick at the headmaster’s desk, but of course that would be too childish.

“Why do you insist on trying to foist that brat on me all the time, Albus?”

“In the past, I believed that if you could only get to know Harry, that the two of you could be a great strength and comfort to one another,” Dumbledore said softly.

As Severus sputtered at him, he held up his left hand. “Never fear, I have given up that idea. After last year’s disastrous Occlumency lessons, I agree that the two of you should be kept apart as much as possible. But in this case, there isn’t much of a choice. Minerva is unavailable. My project is crucial to the war effort. And Harry needs protection.”

“How long do you expect to be gone, then?” Severus wanted to know. “I assume I’ll be the only one watching him, and even I cannot go indefinitely without sleep.”

“I shouldn’t be gone that long,” Dumbledore seemed more relaxed now that his potions professor had acquiesced. “Three or four days, at the most. You do have plenty of Stimulant Elixir, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“If you do need to rest, contact Mundungus,” Dumbledore told him. “He can take over for brief times. At the very least, he could let you know if anything suspicious happened.”

“When do I begin this delightful mission? At once?”

“In the morning. I’ll keep watch tonight and you can get a good night’s sleep.”

Severus frowned at him again, this time in concern. “You need to get some rest yourself, Albus.”

“Unfortunately there is a great deal still to be done.” Dumbledore gestured towards his wounded arm. “And not a great deal of time left to do it in. However, I will sleep tomorrow before I leave Hogwarts.”

Severus nodded and rose. “I’ll be leaving then.”

Dumbledore stopped him. “Severus, if I could ask one more favor?”

“More than watching over that spoiled, arrogant little imbecile? How he’s going to save us all from You-Know-Who is beyond—“

Dumbledore interrupted. “Severus, I don’t expect that you will have any direct contact with Harry, but if you do, I’m asking you to be kind.”

Severus Snape was rarely at a loss for words. He’d always prided himself on his eloquence and his ability to take any situation in stride. But now he could only goggle at the headmaster in dumbfounded amazement. For the first time he wondered if Dumbledore was completely sane.

He opened and closed his mouth twice before the power of speech came back to him. “Albus, I’m not kind even with the handful of people I do have some respect for!”

“Severus, do you remember when you came to me fourteen years ago?” Dumbledore asked in a very gentle tone. “You had just lost the one person you loved—yes, loved,” he repeated as the Potions professor started to object. “You blamed yourself for her death, and you were lost in grief and sorrow. Do you remember the agony, the despair, and hopelessness you felt? Do you remember how empty and dark the world was then?”

Severus’ face was contorted with pain and fury. “What is your point?” He hissed.

Dumbledore remained unshaken. “That’s what Harry is going through now.”

With great effort, Severus composed himself. “Very well, Albus. I hope that we can avoid contact, but if necessary, I will make an effort to be civil to the Potter brat.”

“Will you, Severus?” Dumbledore asked sadly. “You can’t even speak his name without sneering.”

Without deigning to reply, Severus Snape swept out of the headmaster’s office.

The sky was still dark the next morning when Severus apparated to a point just outside the wards surrounding the Weasley home. He'd appeared in the midst of a copse of trees shielding the Burrow from the sight of Muggles who lived in the nearby village. He scanned the area for any hint of intruders, already holding his wand aloft.

There were small skittering sounds and Severus remained frozen in place until he was sure it was only some woodland creature scurrying away and not signs of an unwanted visitor. Then he carefully picked his way across the mossy ground to a place where the trees thinned and opened into a small field.

At the edge of the clearing, he paused and waited. There was the barest whisper, "Finite," and suddenly Dumbledore appeared before him, wearing dull-colored brown robes and looking quite exhausted.

"Severus, I was not expecting you for another hour," he murmured.

The Potions professor humphed. "Good thing I came early. You obviously need to rest. Go back to Hogwarts, Albus. Everything will be fine here."

"Thank you, Severus. I know you will keep Harry safe for us." He hesitated. "You will remember you agreed to be kind, for my sake?"

"I did no such thing," Severus' lip curled in distaste at the idea. But seeing Dumbledore's sorrowful expression, he relented. "Very well, I shall refrain from injuring Potter's precious feelings. It's a moot point, anyway. I have no intention of walking up to the brat and wishing him a happy summer. "

Dumbledore just nodded and patted the younger man's arm before spinning lightly and Disapparating, leaving Severus alone. Casting a Disillusioning Charm over himself, he sat down and leaned back against the tree. It was a good spot. He was on a slight hill that afforded him a clear view of the lush field and garden surrounding the Burrow, as well as of the crooked house itself.

The house was dark and there were no signs of anyone else around. It was still very early and Severus expected it would be a couple of hours yet before the Weasleys awoke. He allowed himself to relax, just a tiny bit. Only to straighten again as a movement at the Burrow caught his eye.

Someone slipped out a side door and came across the garden and field. As he came closer, Severus could see that it was Potter himself.

The boy seemed to be heading directly towards him at first and the man started to stand, being very careful not to rustle the twigs or leaves on the ground. What was that blasted child doing? Didn't he know he was near the boundary of the protective wards? Had he somehow seen Dumbledore or Severus while they had been visible?

But then Potter veered off and sat down beside a nearby tree, not facing Severus but sideways from his invisible protector. The Potions professor slowly lowered himself back to the ground and watched the boy through narrowed eyes. What had Potter come out here to do?

Nothing, apparently. Potter just sat silently, hunched over with his elbows on his crossed legs. It was still cool before sunrise, and Severus had brought a cloak to keep warm. But Potter wore only a thin striped shirt and jeans. He didn't seem aware of the chill in the air, though. He just sat with his head bowed, staring sightlessly at the ground.

Potter had always been a scrawny little thing, but he seemed thinner than ever now. His dark hair was messy, as always, and his glasses seemed too big for his peaked face. It made him look younger than his almost-sixteen years.

Severus wondered at the boy's appearance. He'd heard rumors that Potter's relatives weren't always generous, although he doubted those stories. Just another of the brat's bids for sympathy and attention, he was sure. In any case, though, no one could say Molly Weasley skimped on meals. There was no reason for Potter to look half-starved.

Time passed, and Severus kept waiting for the boy to do something. Potter was not the meditative type, and Severus couldn't believe that he'd come out in the early morning darkness to just sit and brood. But apparently he had. Potter didn't move a muscle until almost two hours later when the sun peeked over the horizon and a light came on in an upstairs room at the Burrow.

Then he looked up and Severus couldn't help but note the pain in the boy's expression. Then Potter stood and squared his shoulders before heading back to the house, leaving the Potions professor feeling a mixture of suspicion and bewilderment.

***

Harry opened the side door and slipped inside the comfortable, cluttered kitchen. A moment later Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs wrapped in an old pale blue dressing gown. She jumped at the sight of him.

"Oh, Harry, dear, you gave me a fright. I didn't think anyone else was awake yet." She peered at him in concern and came over to touch his arm gently. "Are you all right?"

He would not cry. He would not let tears come to his eyes or a lump to his throat. They were all trying so hard to cheer him up, and after everything they had done for him, the least he could do was make them think they were succeeding.

"Yes ma'am," he lied. "I'm fine. I just woke up." Knowing it would please her, Harry added. "And I was hungry."

Mrs. Weasley beamed and hugged him quickly. "You have a seat then, dear. Breakfast is coming right up." She bustled over the oven and with a wave of her wand, a basket of eggs flew across the room and began cracking themselves into a frying pan. Harry obediently sat down at the table and a short while later Mrs. Weasley set a plate piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry told her and picked up his fork. He nibbled on a few bites and wondered how he could avoid eating all that food without hurting her feelings. It was delicious, of course, but he just wasn't very hungry. Mrs. Weasley had a hard time accepting that. She hadn't stopped fussing over him since he'd come last week, muttering under her breath about those ‘rotten beasts starving the poor child.'

For once, though, Harry had to admit that the Dursleys weren't to blame. They hadn't exactly been generous with food during the fortnight he'd been at Privet Drive, but they had given him adequate meals. Harry just hadn't been able to eat.

Luckily for him, Arthur Weasley rushed downstairs in a hurry to leave for work then. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny followed him, Ron still in pajamas. In the midst of the noise and confusion, Harry stood up and emptied his plate into the trash. Hermione saw him, but he gave her a fierce look and she sighed and turned away.

To placate her, Harry made sure she saw him pour a cup of juice from the big pitcher on the table and sat back down between Ron and Ginny.

"So, you want to play Quidditch again today?" Ron asked between enormous mouthfuls of food.

"Sure," Harry agreed.

"We could do something else, though, if you'd rather," Ginny offered. She been watching him closely, too, Harry realized, and perhaps had noticed that he was more upset than he wanted the others to know.

"No, really, I want to," he answered, more enthusiastically than before. "I need the practice if I'm going to be on the Gryffindor team again this year. I've hardly been able to play for the last two years."

Truthfully, Harry could care less if he ever played for Gryffindor again. It was funny that Quidditch had once been so important and now it meant nothing to him. How could he care about a game now that Sirius was dead?

Sirius had snuck in once, as Padfoot, to see him play, but Harry had dreamed of the day when his godfather could come freely to the stands and cheer him on. Now that would never happen.

But Ron and Ginny loved the pick-up Quidditch games in the field, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked less worried when Harry was zooming around on a broomstick, as if it were a sure sign that he was feeling better. It was the least he could do for them.

***

So much for peace and quiet, Severus thought dourly as the four teenagers trooped outside and entered the broom shed near the house. Potter, the two youngest Weasleys, and ah, Granger was there, too. Well, he shouldn't be surprised. The Golden Trio was practically joined at the hip. They did everything but breathe for one another.

They came back out of the shed, each carrying a broomstick, and jogged over to the field. Ron Weasley was also holding a rather battered wooden box. He knelt and released a Quaffle ball and a Snitch from it. The balls soared into the air, and the kids took off after them.

In spite of himself, Severus found he was watching them with interest. They seemed to have started off playing boys against girls, with Potter and the Weasley girl as Seekers, and Granger and the Weasley boy trying to shoot the Quaffle through makeshift goals at the ends of the field.

Potter was subdued. He was not going after the Snitch with anything resembling his old verve, but his natural talents as a flyer were still obvious. Of course, he is James Potter's son, Severus thought snidely. The Weasleys were quite good as well, which Severus had noticed at the games last year.

As long as his confidence was intact, Ron was swift and accurate, cheerfully scoring goals for his own team and blocking Granger's efforts with ease. And Ginny Weasley was gifted, Severus had to admit.

He wondered what would happen on the Gryffindor team now that Dumbledore had lifted Potter's Quidditch ban. Would rivalry over the Seeker position drive a wedge between Potter and the Weasley clan? No, that was doubtful. It was much more likely that one of them would simply try out for another spot.

It was interesting to see Granger be the least talented at something. She was an adequate flyer, but she didn't have the speed, agility, and daring that the others had.

Severus wondered if she would become upset, or if the others would become annoyed, at her lack of skill. But no, Granger just laughed at her mistakes, and while the Weasleys teased her a bit, it seemed good-natured. Potter was mostly quiet. He joined in the joking once in a while, but Severus thought his laughter sounded forced.

Mrs. Weasley brought out a big pitcher of lemonade and a platter of biscuits in the mid-morning, and the kids flopped to the ground to enjoy their snack. Severus conjured a glass of ice water for himself and sipped it gratefully.

The day had grown warm and he had shed his cloak long ago. The kids were all wearing lightweight Muggle attire, T-shirts and jeans, and the girls had their long hair pulled back in ponytails. Glancing down at his own long-sleeved shirt, Severus reflected wryly that the clothes that were perfectly comfortable in the cool dungeons were not the best choice for sitting outside in the sun all day.

By mid-afternoon, Severus had grown very tired of watching the kids play Quidditch. Didn't they have anything better to do? He knew he should have assigned more summer homework. They switched teams, switched positions, paused for lunch, and then played some more. When the heat of the day finally forced them back inside, he rejoiced.

He had a few hours of peace and quiet then. At dinnertime, Arthur Weasley came home, and Severus reached into an inside pocket of his cloak and pulled out a small bag containing a sandwich. He ate slowly and tried not to imagine the home-cooked meal the family inside was enjoying.

Molly had often cooked dinner after the Order meetings in Grimmauld Place last year, and Severus could remember delicious scents wafting through the kitchen and the comraderie as everyone gathered around the table.

Everyone except him, of course. He had his role as Voldemort's spy to maintain, after all. He couldn't have afforded to get chummy with the others. Even if sometimes he had felt the odd pang, watching them sharing stories and laughing together, putting aside the grim business of fighting a war long enough to enjoy one another's company.

But that was nonsense. He'd never needed anyone except himself, and that wasn't about to change. He certainly would never have wanted to spend one moment of unnecessary time with the crowd that had inhabited the old meeting place-Black and Lupin, and young Potter himself on occasion.

Severus' face hardened as he remembered his old enemies, and he drew his wand. Giving it a vicious wave, he summoned a sudden, fierce blaze of fire that burned the sandwich bag and disappeared, leaving a small pile of ashes at his feet. He put the wand away and glared furiously at the Burrow. Others could weaken themselves with companionship if they wanted. He'd learned long ago he was better off by himself.

Twilight fell, and Potter and his motley crew went out into the garden and began hunting under the bushes for gnomes. Severus rolled his eyes at the silliness as the Weasleys swung the little creatures around before sending them flying over the garden wall. Potter and Granger were more sober, going about the task in a brisk, business-like way.

Afterwards the four sat at an outside table and talked until the stars came out. They were too far away for Severus to make out their conversation, but he did note that Potter was by far the quietest of the bunch. When Molly Weasley poked her head out the door and called for them to come inside, he was first to stand.

Eventually the lights in the Burrow went out, and the night grew late. Severus reached for his cloak and pulled out a flask of Stimulant Elixir. He stood and walked around the field while drinking. It was good to stretch his muscles and he could feel the elixir chasing away his weariness. He would need to be especially alert now, he knew. Most Death Eater attacks occurred at night when the victims were likely to be asleep and have less chance of fighting back.

But the night passed peacefully, and Severus thought gratefully that he'd made it through the first day.

The next three days were carbon copies of the first one. Every morning Potter came out in the stillness before dawn to sit at the edge of the woods and brood. When the Weasley household stirred, he would return and a short while later he and his friends would come outside and spend the better part of the day playing Quidditch. There was no trouble, apart from the mind-numbing boredom, and Severus looked forward to Dumbledore's return.

Just before midnight of the fifth day, Severus heard a soft pop and looked around eagerly, expecting to see the headmaster. Instead Dumbledore's Patronus, a great silver phoenix, glided up to him and spoke, "Severus, I am most sorry, but I've been delayed. It's nothing to worry about, but I'll be a couple more days at least. I do apologize and call on Mundungus if you need to."

The Phoenix vanished as Severus swore under his breath. How dare Albus force him to take on this babysitting job, knowing how much Severus would despise it, and then not even return on time. What could have delayed him?

Anger was replaced with concern as Severus considered the possibility that his mentor could be in danger. Yes, Albus was the greatest wizard of the age, but he was not infallible, and with his injured hand, he was weaker than normal.

But Albus had said there was no reason to worry, and in any case Severus didn't know what he could do anyway. He had no idea where Albus was or what he was doing. The headmaster had been very close-mouthed about this latest project of his.

Severus sighed and rested his head in his hands. He was very tired. The Stimulant Elixir helped, but it was not a permanent substitute for sleep, and he had not rested for almost five days now. He had not wanted to call Mundungus Fletcher. Potter's safety was a crucial matter and he had expected Albus or perhaps Minerva to take over again by this point.

But they had not and Severus had to admit that he couldn't keep going much longer without some sleep. Reluctantly he pulled out own wand, cast his own Patronus, and sent it to Mundungus Fletcher's flat on Knockturn Alley.

A small mousy man in threadbare robes appeared quickly. Thankfully, he must have been at home and not out. "Need anything, Snape?"

Severus glared and Fletcher amended, "Um, Professor Snape."

"No, Fletcher. I thought my Patronus was lonely and sent it off to visit its friends," Severus drawled. Honestly, how could some people be so thick!

Rolling his eyes, he continued. "I must rest, and you'll have to take over here for a time."

Fletcher's eyes darted around the forest nervously. "But what if the Death-Eaters come? What if-"

His fingers were positively itching to draw his wand and send some minor little hex, or at the very least a Silencing Charm, towards the little rat. But that would not be conducive to getting some much needed sleep, so Severus restrained himself and said calmly, "In that case, you Apparate to safety and send a message to me at Hogwarts. Even you should be able to follow those simple directions, correct?"

"But what if-"

"There have been no signs of trouble," Severus interrupted firmly. He needed to get out of here before he completely lost his temper and did something he would regret. Or that Dumbledore would regret, at least.

Without waiting for any more of Fletcher's pathetic arguments, he spun and Disapparated back to the point just outside the wards at the castle.

***

Harry leaned back against the tree-his tree, he was beginning to think of it-and looked up at the dusky sky. The sun would rise soon, but for now stars still shone in the early morning darkness.

He noticed a particularly bright one and his heart shattered. Sirius. The Dog Star. Where are you now?

Harry blinked tears away and looked back down at the ground. Everyone said it would get better with time. But it wasn't. Sometimes it seemed like it was getting worse. Like his grief was some ferocious wild animal that would not stop until it had ripped him completely apart.

Sirius wouldn't want him to feel this way. Harry knew that. Sirius would want him to remember the good times they'd had (But there were so few good times and they should have had so many more!). Sirius would want Harry to honor his memory by going on with life and carrying on the fight against Voldemort.

But Harry was so tired of fighting. And it was so hopeless anyway. How could he possibly win against the greatest Dark wizard in centuries? He was just a kid, and he wasn't even a particularly strong wizard. Hermione was far more clever than he was. And the Death Eaters had almost killed her too, back at the Department of Mysteries last spring.

The Death Eaters had almost killed all of them. Hermione Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, himself-any one of them could have been killed, and probably would have been, if the Order hadn't shown up in time to save them. At the cost of Sirius's life.

And it was all his fault. And it would have been his fault if anyone else had died, too. He had been so stupid. No, he corrected himself. He had been stupid and arrogant, just like Snape was always saying. The Potions professor was right about him after all.

He'd refused to listen to warnings or reasonings. He'd been so sure that he was right, that Sirius was in danger and that no one would help him. And he'd almost gotten them all killed.

Harry realized that tears were sliding down his cheeks after all, and he brushed them away, looking down at the Burrow as he did so. Why weren't the Weasleys angry with him? They should be. He was always putting them in danger. One day one of them was going to die because of him and then they would hate him. But they wouldn't hate him as much as he would hate himself.

He needed to start distancing himself from them, and from Hermione, too. He was a marked man, but his friends shouldn't have to bear that burden with him. He needed to contact Dumbledore and ask to go somewhere else for the rest of the summer, even if it was back to the Dursleys. It was a small price to pay for his friends' safety.

"Stupify!" A harsh whisper broke the silence and suddenly Harry was frozen. Unable to move or speak, he could hear the terrified beating of his heart as several shadowy forms in robes, hoods, and masks slipped out from behind nearby trees and made their way to him.

One crouched beside him and roughly grabbed his hair. Her triumphant laugh was tinged with maniacal glee. "Come along nicely now, baby Potter. The Dark Lord has invited you to a celebration."

Severus was sound asleep when a loud yell woke him and he jumped violently as he sat up in bed and saw Mundungus Fletcher's head in his fireplace.

"Snape! They've got him! They've got Potter!" The head shouted.

His blood turned to ice even as he swore and leaped from his bed. He had worn his clothes to sleep in and he felt an instant's small gratitude for that. There was no time to waste, even for getting dressed.

"What happened?" He snarled.

"I-, I don't know," Fletcher stammered. "I was keeping watch and then someone got me from behind, don't know what curse it was, knocked me out cold. Then the next thing I knew, there were alarms going off, and lights on in the house. I ran in and Molly ‘n Arthur were trying to Apparate the kids out, and they were yelling that Potter was missing, so I grabbed some Floo powder and ran to the fireplace."

"Are Death Eaters there?"

Fletcher hesitated. "I haven't seen any, but what else could make the alarms go off?"

Not much. The wards were spelled to sound an alarm if anyone with malice towards the Weasleys or their guests tried to approach. Severus forced himself to think rationally.

"The Weasleys need to evacuate. I'm sure Dumbledore gave them a safe location to go to. Find out where it is and send them on. I'll contact some of the others, and we'll be there shortly. Don't touch anything!"

He summoned his Patronus once more and sent it off with messages for Moody, Shacklebolt, and Tonks. He wished fervently that he knew how to get in touch with Albus, but there was nothing he could do about that. He Disapparated back to the Burrow.

Or to the point in the woods outside the Burrow, to be correct. Severus was tense and alert, straining every sense for a hint of danger. But Homenum revelio showed that there were no humans in the woods or fields except for himself so Severus cast a Lumos spell next and hurried over to Potter's tree to hunt for clues. He had no doubt that the boy had followed his usual early morning routine and had been outside when he'd been snatched. Otherwise the entire Burrow would likely be destroyed.

The grass looked a bit flattened, and perhaps some of the twigs or leaves kicked aside. It didn't look disturbed enough for a struggle though, Severus decided. More likely, Potter had been hit from behind while he sat and brooded. Then the Death Eaters (for who else could it be, really?) had come up on him.

Daft boy! Severus thought, letting his fear morph into anger because anger was easier to bear. Didn't he ever think of how stupid it was to come out here alone? Didn't he realize that there are people who would sell their soul for the honor of giving him to Voldemort?

But then his inner voice accused him. Why didn't you warn him? You knew what he was doing. And you know that Potter doesn't have the sense of a billywig.

A slender dark piece of wood lay on the ground nearby, and Severus stooped to pick it up, filling sick at heart. Potter's wand. So the boy was completely helpless this time. What chance did they have of finding him alive?

He was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt hurrying towards him. A handsome, dark-skinned man with no hair and a penchant for wearing colorful robes, Kingsley was adept at maintaining a calm demeanor, but even so, his eyes were worried as he came up alongside the Potions professor.

"Anything?" he questioned, his voice terse with anxiety.

Severus held out the wand and Kingsley looked at it in grim silence. "So he doesn't even have that," he muttered finally. Severus slipped Potter's wand into a pocket of his robes and motioned to the ground. He and the Kingsley both knelt and held their own lit wands close to examine the grass better. "I think Potter was overpowered and knocked out, but it must have been a surprise attack."

"Not stirred up enough for a fight," Kingsley agreed. "Why was Potter out here this time of day?"

"He comes out here every morning," Severus replied dourly. "Just sits and stares at the ground. Mourning that good-for-nothing godfather, I suppose."

"Wonder if they knew that," Kingsley mused. "Or if they were planning a full-out attack on the Burrow, and just grabbed their chance when they saw Potter alone?"

Severus shook his head. "The real question is, where are they now?"

"You would probably have a better idea of that than the rest of us," Kingsley pointed out.

"Any one of You-Know-Who's followers could be hiding him," Severus replied. "Or they've got him stashed in some completely random place we'd never think of."

Moody and Tonks had come over in time to catch the last bit of conversation.

"What do you think they're doing to him?" Tonks almost whispered.

Severus gave her a grim look. "You don't want to know."

Tonks blanched but said fiercely, "We have to get him back!"

"We will," Kingsley said with quiet conviction.

"Absolutely nothing down there," Moody jerked his head towards the Burrow. "You find anything here?"

After a brief discussion, they agreed that Moody, Kingsley, and Tonks would stay and continue questioning Fletcher and looking for clues while Severus called an emergency Order meeting at Hogwarts. He wanted to stay behind and let someone else conduct the meeting, but Kingsley pointed out again that Severus would have a better idea of where they could look for Potter than any of the others, and so he should be the one directing the search. Severus couldn't really argue so he headed back to the castle.

***

Harry struggled dimly to stay awake. Unconsciousness would be a blessing in some ways. It would be a respite from the pain. Every bone in his body burned and ached from the lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse. And as if that weren't enough, there were long gashes down the inside of each forearm, dangerously close to his veins, that throbbed with each beat of his heart and oozed blood onto the cold dirt floor where he had been thrown and left to wait.

He didn't know why he was still alive. It would have made more sense if Voldemort had simply killed him on sight. Or at least it seemed that way to Harry. But Voldemort was keeping him alive, at least for now, and Harry couldn't decide if he were grateful for that fact or not.

The three Death Eaters had brought him to some sort of hall, a good bit smaller than the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but still grand and imposing, if Harry had been in a position to appreciate it. It had been a long room with a polished stone floor and walls hung with tapestries. Tables and chairs had been pushed to the side under leaded windows. There was a dais at one end of the room with a carved chair like a throne set upon it.

He had been sitting in the chair when they'd arrived. The monster who haunted Harry's dreams and who had already taken so much from him. A tall being, no longer really a man, with unnaturally white skin and no hair, red eyes, and slits for nostrils. Like his followers, he wore ebony robes. Unlike them, he did not bother with hoods or masks. He had smiled coldly when he saw Harry and stood, walking lazily down to where the little group waited before him.

"Well done," Voldemort had said silkily to the Death Eaters before turning his attention to his prisoner. "Welcome to the party, Harry. It is your birthday soon, isn't it? We wanted to celebrate with you."

Then it was all just a blur of pain. The Death Eaters had surrounded him, taunting him, kicking at him, cursing him. Harry was still stupefied and he couldn't do anything. There was no way to fight back or escape. He couldn't even scream to help relieve his agony. Just lie there and suffer until he was sure he would go insane, just as Neville's parents had.

It had all run together in his mind, a mix of rough voices, Bellatrix LeStrange's harsh laughter (he had recognized her voice even though she, like the others, kept wearing her mask) , Voldemort's red eyes gleaming in triumph and his slit nostrils flaring with pleasure, and the white-hot fire burning through his body.

Help me! Harry's mind had screamed. Help me, Sirius! Help me, Mum, Dad! I need you! But of course, they couldn't come this time.

And then suddenly it had stopped. Voldemort had stood and spoke in an eerily calm voice, as if he had been reading a book or finishing a meal instead of watching a teenage boy tortured within an inch of his life. "Come, my friends. We have other work to do."

Harry had fully expected to be killed then, but instead one of the Death Eaters, probably a man judging from his size, levitated him out of the hall and down a narrow flight of stairs to a small room with a dirt floor. As he'd floated away, Harry had heard Voldemort call after him, "Don't worry, Harry. We'll have more fun again later."

Downstairs the Death Eater had waved his wand and Harry had crashed to the ground. Then the Death Eater had pulled a silver knife from the sleeve of his robe and approached. He had held out Harry's arm and slid the knife along it, leaving a trail of blood behind. Then he had done the same with Harry's other arm and left.

And now Harry lay on the cold floor, aching, bleeding, and more terrified than he had ever been in his life. He wanted to give in to the blackness that tugged at his brain, beckoning him to blessed unconsciousness. But then there would be no way to escape or fight back.

But there was no way, anyhow, was there? He was completely helpless. All he could do was hope that somehow, someway, his friends would rescue him. And that seemed pretty close to impossible.

He gave up and let the blackness overwhelm him.

***

Severus sat at his chair at the teachers' table in Hogwart's Great Hall, his head in his hands. It was quiet now, after the almost frenzied activity earlier.

All the Order members had been there, except for Albus and Lupin, whom he didn't know how to contact. Minerva had immediately flooed back from her sister's home, pale and shaken at the news, but composed and determined, her eyes filled with such a fierce light that Severus had to admit to himself that he would not want to be the Death Eaters who had her on their trail.

The entire Weasley clan had been there, minus Charlie Weasley who was in Romania, and Percy Weasley who apparently was still siding with the Ministry. And Miss Granger and the young French woman from Beaxbatons Academy. Severus remembered hearing that she and Bill Weasley were engaged.

Kingsley, Tonks, Moody, and Fletcher had arrived in the middle of the meeting, having decided that they had done all they could do at the Burrow. Everyone had crowded around the table, all frantically thinking of places Harry might be, and trying to decide how to rescue him.

Now many of them had left. Minerva in her animagus form, was going to check out some of the Death Eaters' homes. Kingsley, Tonks, and Moody were doing the same. Fred and George Weasley had gone back to their joke shop to see if they had some object that could help with locating or tracking people. Mundungus Fletcher had left and no one knew where. No one much cared either.

Severus had sent the rest of the Weasleys, and Granger, off to the other end of the Hall to write down their memories of the last week, to see if they could remember noticing anything that seemed suspicious. He highly doubted they would, but he was tired of them hovering.

He himself was racking his brains, trying to think of what to do next. He could only pray that it wasn't too late already, that Potter was still alive. He had failed. Again. He had failed both Lily and Albus.

"I know you will keep Harry safe for us." Albus had said. But he hadn't. He had left Potter unattended, for Fletcher was useless, and Severus had known it, hadn't he? But he had been so tired. He had thought it was more dangerous for him to keep going without rest, and he had thought that surely things would be all right for a few hours.

But it was his mistake, and now Potter was missing. Perhaps dead. And if he were alive, Severus didn't want to think about what he was going through. He didn't like the brat, but he wouldn't wish torture on anyone.

Pain. So much pain. But he can't scream or even move. Only inside his mind. "Help me! Help me, Sirius! Help me, Mum, Dad! I need you!"

But of course no one comes. They're all dead, and soon he will be too. Right now he welcomes it. His tormentors dance around him, kicking, laughing, and one of them points a wand at him again, "Crucio!"

And beyond, even as he suffers, he sees Voldemort, smiling calmly, waiting for the perfect moment to end Harry's pain.

But there's more-the dias, the throne-like chair.

Severus leaped from his chair. He didn't know how in the world his mind and Potter's had connected. He'd never heard of such a thing happening before, but he had no doubt that that was what had happened. There would be time later to puzzle it out, though. Right now only one thing mattered.

He cast multiple Patronuses and demanded, "Find Minerva, Kingsley, and Moody. Tell them, "Return at once. I know where Potter is!"

The sun was setting as Harry's rescuers Apparated to a point behind a tall hedge surrounding a manor house set upon a hill. The great house had obviously once been grand, but was now quite dilapidated-looking. The flower beds in the front lawn were overgrown with weeds, several of the windows on the first and second floors had been broken, and tiles were missing from the hipped roof. The top portion of the double front doors was blocked by an enormous silky spider web.

There were eight of them-Severus, Minerva, Kingsley, Moody, Tonks, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour (whom Bill had tried to dissuade, but had been forced to admit that she was superb at dueling), and Arthur Weasley (who had absolutely insisted on coming: "Harry has saved Ginny's life, and mine, you know!").

Severus only hoped they would be enough. He had no illusions that any one of them, or even several of them together, could successfully take on Voldemort. The only wizard he knew capable of that was Albus Dumbledore, and if the Prophecy was correct, not even he could truly defeat the dark wizard. But Severus hoped that they could at least occupy Voldemort and his Death Eaters long enough for someone to locate and rescue Potter.

It was highly likely that not all eight of them would leave this house alive.

"Is it warded, do you think?" Kingsley asked in a low voice, indicating the manor.

Severus considered. "I don't know," he admitted. "He doesn't often use this place. He doesn't like to associate himself with the Riddle name. I've only been here once before. It wasn't warded then, but he's hiding Potter here now, so who knows?"

"Be better if we could have waited til dark," Mad-Eye Moody muttered, studying the long expanse of lawn between them and the house.

"Too risky," Minerva replied tersely. "Harry could be dead by then."

If he isn't already.

The thought hung unspoken in the air for a second before Kingsley said, "Everyone ready?"

They nodded, Disillusioned themselves, and crept through a break in the hedge towards the house. Moody shot a Silencing Charm towards the front doors before sliding the right one open. They all held their breath as he slipped in first, but there were no immediate repercussions, and the others followed him.

A long front hall ran the length of the house, a curving staircase rose to the upper floors on the right, and on both sides, wide arched doorways led to spacious rooms. Thick dust covered the furniture; there were moth-eaten holes in the rugs; and more spider webs decorated the chandeliers and stair rails.

There were no signs of life, and an eery silence filled the place.

Severus led the group to the back of the house, to another hall on the left-the room he had seen through Potter's eyes and had recognized as the Riddle House in Little Hangleton. It too was now abandoned, but there were signs that someone had been there. In sharp contrast to the rest of the place, this room was so clean it almost sparkled.

The Order members exchanged grim glances, and according to plan, they silently split into groups of two and parted to search the house. Looking back on it later, Severus could only thank their lucky stars that he and Minerva had headed immediately for a narrow door at one end of the room, past the dais. They might just as easily have chosen another direction and then it would have been too late.

But by great chance, they did move towards the door. Severus paid no attention to the throne-chair as they passed, but Minerva shot it a look of pure loathing.

They crept down a steep flight of stairs and into a dark underground cellar. They cast Lumos spells and saw moldy crates and boxes lining the walls, and then in one corner, a small form lying huddled on the ground.

"Severus!" Minerva hissed. They were kneeling at the boy's side in a flash.

"He's bleeding," Minerva whispered, rather unnecessarily as Severus could plainly see the ugly gashes on Potter's arms. "Is he alive?"

Severus nodded and waved his wand, attempting to heal the bloody cuts, but they wouldn't heal. He scowled. Some sort of cursed wounds then. Potter was obviously going to require some intensive care.

"We have to get out of here," he told Minerva.

She nodded. "Can you take Harry? I'll let the others know." Without waiting for an answer, she took off to find the rest of the group. Pausing at the doorway, she asked, "Can we Apparate out of here?"

"We'll find out," Severus replied.

Minerva nodded and was gone. Severus reached to gather Potter into his arms and discovered that he couldn't lift the boy. Potter was literally stuck to the floor.

Severus knew several spells that could cause this-from a simple Sticking Charm to much more complicated ones. He should be able to undo it, eventually at least. But just then he heard sharp cries from above and the unmistakable sounds of dueling.

His heart pounding furiously, Severus ran through incantations as quickly he could, only to have each one fail. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he struggled to breathe through the stifling air. Or perhaps it was fear clogging his throat. He rarely allowed himself to indulge in fear, but there was no time left before...

Bellatrix LeStrange, her pale face twisted with hate and her black hair in a tangled mass, burst down into the cellar, freezing in shock as she spied Severus kneeling over Harry Potter.

"What-" she shrieked.

He gave one last desperate wave of his wand, shouted the spell defiantly, and amazingly, it worked. Potter was free.

Severus snatched the boy into his arms, and spun, praying that there were no Apparition barriers. He caught a glimpse of Bellatrix raising her wand, and of Voldemort charging into the room, his red eyes blazing as he took in the sight of Severus Snape rescuing the Boy Who Was Fated to Match the Dark Lord.

Then the room faded and a few seconds later Severus was standing outside the Apparition wards at Hogwarts, holding Potter in his arms. Miraculously, all the other Order members were appearing too.

"How is he?" Arthur asked anxiously. But Severus only shook his head and rushed towards the castle. There would be time for talking later. Right now his top priority was seeing that Potter survived. Tonks and Bill Weasley were also asking questions, but Severus didn't even hear them. He was mentally running through the potions Potter was going to need and if he had them on hand.

Behind him, Minerva explained that they would know more about the boy's condition once they reached the infirmary and she and Severus could run some diagnostic spells.

They hurried inside the castle, but the others checked their flight as Severus headed not for the infirmary, but down towards the dungeons.

"Severus?" Kingsley questioned.

"Potter has cursed wounds. I need specialized equipment that's already in my quarters and there's not time to lug it all up to the infirmary," Severus threw over his shoulder, not breaking stride.

He called out the password to his rooms as they approached, and thought dimly that he would have to remember to change it now that half the Order knew. He carried Potter into his own bedroom and laid him carefully on the big four-poster bed. His skin crawled at the image, but his bedroom was connected to his private laboratory and it would be easier to work on the boy from here.

He pointed his wand at the clean white sheets and the top one ripped into pieces. "Minerva, help me bandage his arms. We can at least slow the bleeding."

She joined him beside the bed and they quickly wrapped Potter's arms in swathes of cloth. Red stains appeared through the snowy bandages. Severus cast another healing spell, a stronger one, and Minerva repeated it. They held their breath until it was obvious that the bleeding had stopped.

Severus wasn't fooled, though. Cursed wounds didn't heal that easily. The cuts would remain open and liable to start bleeding again for quite a while. It would take some strong, specialized potions and salves to fully heal them.

But they needed to know the rest of the boy's injuries before Severus could begin planning how to help him. He and Minerva waved their wands over Potter, running through diagnostic spells and communicating in brief half-sentences.

"After-effects of Cruciatus," she murmured. "How long, do you think?"

"Hours, mostly likely."

She blanched. "The Longbottoms. Could Harry be--?"

Severus jerked his head sharply. After all they had risked, Potter better not dare go insane on them.

"Severe blood loss," He told her.

"Blood-replenishing potion?"

Again Severus shook his head. "Not yet. Got to figure out what poison is in him. Blood-replenishers could cause a bad reaction."

Minerva stared into his eyes. "Do you think he'll make it, Severus?"

"I'll know more once I determine the poison." Severus turned to see the Order members crowded into the doorway behind him. Even worse, someone must have informed the rest of the Weasleys they were back, for Molly, the younger red-haired urchins, and Hermione Granger were all trying to push their way into the room too. It was all Severus could do not to scream, "GET OUT!" at them.

Minerva glanced at his face, then turned to the group and said firmly, "Severus needs some privacy to work, and Harry is in a weakened condition. He doesn't need to be exposed to lots of company now. I suggest everyone go up to the Great Hall and try to eat a little dinner. I'm going to see if I can contact Poppy. We could use her here, too."

"But we can't eat without knowing if Harry's going to be all right!" Ron Weasley exclaimed. "He is, isn't he?"

There was a desperate silence as Severus felt ten pairs of eyes boring into him.

He sighed. "He is suffering from after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. While the physical symptoms can be easily cured, he may be affected mentally. We will not know until he awakens. He is suffering from a serious loss of blood, but I can't give him any replenishers yet because he's also been poisoned and many blood-replenishers react badly with poisons."

"I'm going to take a sample of his blood, and analyze the poison in it. I'll have a better idea what to do next once I know what's in his system. Now, as time is critical, I need you to leave. At once!"

Most of the group filed out with solemn faces. But Molly, Arthur, the younger Weasleys, and Granger hesitated.

"I know time is important, but please, just a second," Molly said softly.

Severus wasn't sure why he did it, but he curtly motioned them inside even as he Summoned a glass vial, a cauldron, and several sealed packages from his storeroom. He filled the vial with Harry's blood and poured it into the cauldron, lit a fire under it and added the ingredients from the packages.

He tried not to pay attention to the others, but could not help watching from the corner of his eye.

Arthur didn't speak, but rested his hand on Potter's head before moving aside for his wife. Molly brushed his hair back and kissed him on the forehead. Ginny Weasley murmured something in Potter's ear, but Severus couldn't hear what she said. The three of them walked back to the door. Molly's eyes were bright with tears, and Arthur and Ginny Weasley looked drawn with pain.

Then Granger and the Weasley boy stepped close, one on each side of Potter. Granger kissed him on the cheek and said in a choked whisper, "Come back to us, Harry. We love you." Ron Weasley knelt and rested his head next to Potter's for a moment.

Then he and Granger left and Severus was alone with the boy.

His left arm hurt.

Severus became aware of the Dark Mark burning as he cast Scarpin's Revelaspell over the cauldron containing the vial of Potter's blood. He had set the cauldron on a small table close to the bed, not daring to leave the boy's side to go into his laboratory to work. The gashes on Potter's arms could start to bleed again at any time, and if they did, someone needed to perform healing spells on him right away. As much blood as he'd already lost, Potter could bleed to death within minutes.

Fortunately, Potter was still for now, and Severus was hurrying to prepare an antidote for him. He didn't have time to deal with the Dark Mark. Forcing the pain from his mind, he frowned down at the cauldron as the poison separated into various ingredients. He summoned more vials from his office and began filling them, muttering to himself as he identified the components.

"Corncockle, grayanotoxins, Viper's bugloss, and mmm, what's this?" He stared at the last vial, filled with a thin black substance. It looked a bit like ground bracken roots, but was odorless.

Severus was even able to temporarily forget the burning Dark Mark as he contemplated the final ingredient. He was one of the foremost Potions Masters in Europe and it wasn't very often that he was puzzled by his field of study. But he did not have a clue what the vial held. And he could not brew an antidote, or even give Potter a much-needed blood-replenishing potion until he figured it out.

Severus scowled at the unconscious figure on his bed, but he couldn't work up any real animosity towards the boy. Not now. He didn't mind a bit seeing Potter angry and humiliated. It was no more than the brat deserved, but he hadn't deserved this kind of treatment. No one did. Except perhaps for Voldemort himself and a few of his particularly sadistic followers.

Severus didn't like knowing the boy had been tortured almost to the point of death, possibly into insanity. He didn't like seeing his thin face so wan and deadly pale, or his chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. He didn't like seeing the bandages on Potter's arms and remembering the deep cursed slashes underneath. He didn't like knowing that poison was coursing through the boy's veins, doing all kinds of damage to his already dangerously fragile body.

Most of all, he didn't like feeling helpless to do anything about it.

A soft knock sounded on the already open bedroom door and he looked up to see Minerva and Fleur Delacour, of all people, standing there. For an instant Severus was surprised. Then he remembered that all the rescue party had heard the password for his quarters.

"What?" He spoke brusquely.

"I haven't been able to reach Poppy yet, but I'll keep trying," Minerva replied quietly. "How is he?"

"The same," Severus answered in terse, clipped tones. "It's a unique poison, an unusual blend of ingredients, and I can't identify one of them. Without knowing what it is, I don't know what to do."

He levitated the glass tubes holding the poisonous ingredients and accidently jostled his left arm slightly as he did so. He could not hold back a gasp of pain. The Mark was burning fiercely by now.

Minerva started to say something, but Severus cut her off. "I can bear it. The most important thing is to figure this out."

"What about giving ‘im a bezoar?" Fleur Delacour asked. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped close to the work table and began examining the vials.

Severus raised his eyebrows at her temerity, but his fear over Potter's condition and the effort of controlling his own pain made him decide to focus on the pressing matters.

"I'm considering it," he told her. "Without knowing that ingredient, though, even a bezoar is risky, and it may not work. They don't counteract everything." He swallowed hard and carefully wiped sweat from his brow with his right hand.

"Yes, yew extract, for example," Fleur said, as if Severus hadn't learned that before leaving Hogwarts. Still, it was more than many wizards knew. She studied the mysterious substance, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Eet looks like roots of the bracken, but without the characteristic minty scent. A hybrid, per'aps?"

In spite of the pain, which was almost blinding, Severus had to admire her brain. "Perhaps," he conceded in a rough voice. "But it will take time to test and I don't think we have that time."

They all glanced back at Potter and Minerva gave a sharp cry of alarm, for his arms were bleeding again. She and Severus frantically sprang to the bed, grabbing for their wands and running through the strongest healing spells they knew.

There were several long tense moments as they waited to see that the bleeding had stopped and that Potter was still alive. Then Minerva sank into a nearby chair, almost as pale as the boy.

She looked at Severus, who had slumped against the wall. "How risky is the bezoar, Severus? We may not have much choice."

"Risky enough," Severus fought through the pain to consider. "An unknown ingredient-who knows how it could react? On the other hand, bezoars do cure most poisons, so it may be our best chance."

He looked back at Potter. They had to do something soon; that was obvious. Without a blood-replenishing potion, Potter would likely die the next time his wounds bled, and any movement could start the bleeding. Even emotional agitation could cause them to bleed.

And too, the poison had likely caused internal injuries, which could bleed and which needed to be healed as soon as possible. Minerva was right. Giving Potter a bezoar was the only real option they had right now.

Severus made the decision abruptly. He stood away from the wall, angry with himself for showing weakness even if he was in agony, and started to go to his laboratory, when he staggered and almost fell.

Fleur raised her wand. "Accio bezoar!"

The tiny shriveled stone soared through the air, and Severus grabbed it as it flew past. He had already risked everything for Potter. He would be the one to give him the bezoar, and the boy's life or death would be on his own head.

He thrust the bezoar into Potter's mouth and forced him to swallow. They all held their breath for a long moment. Then Minerva performed another diagnostic spell and looked at them with a tremulous smile.

"It worked. The poison's gone."

Fleur beamed with joy, but Severus knew the situation was still critical.

"Blood-replenisher," he whispered.

Minerva quickly Summoned the potion from Severus' storeroom, held the jar to Potter's lips, and carefully tipped it down his throat. A few minutes more and his color improved. He was still pale, but not as much.

After another diagnostic spell, Minerva said quietly, "It looks like the poison has damaged some of Harry's internal organs. They're serious wounds, but not life-threatening yet." She turned to Severus, and pointed to the chair she had sat in earlier. "Sit."

Severus glowered weakly at her, but had no energy to argue. He sat.

"Now, I know you have something for the pain, Severus. What is it and where do you keep it?"

He could barely get the words out. The pain was so overwhelming. "Brown jar, shelf in my storeroom."

Since it was difficult to Summon an object without knowing specifically what it was, Fleur glided off to the storeroom and returned a few minutes later carrying the jar containing the special Healing Salve Severus had developed. It was much stronger than any other Healing product, and while it could not completely take away the agony of the Dark Mark, it did reduce it to a barely noticeable ache.

Severus tried to reach for the jar himself, but Minerva took it from Fleur with a murmured thanks. Calmly ignoring Severus' half-hearted protests, she rolled up his left sleeve and rubbed the salve on the ugly tattoo that would never go away. She Summoned bandages and proceeded to wrap his arm as carefully as they had Potter's earlier.

The salve worked instantly, and Severus breathed deeply in relief. Then he glared furiously at Minerva. Above all else, he hated appearing weak and helpless.

She smiled archly back at him. "You're welcome, Severus."

He huffed and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get to work. Potter will need more Blood-Replenishing Potion, and something for those internal injuries, and then I can start trying to heal those blasted cuts on his arms."

Fleur cleared her throat. "Actually, Professor, that ez why I came down ‘ere. I would very much like to ‘elp you brew potions."

Before Severus could snap at her, Minerva added, "The idea does have merit, Severus. You will need to sleep at some point, and Miss Delacour could help keep an eye on Harry."

Much as he hated to admit it, Minerva did have a valid point. Severus was already tired. He'd been running on adrenaline, but now it was fading, and the four or five hours of sleep he had gotten earlier was not nearly enough to make up for the days of lost rest.

And someone did need to keep a close watch on Potter for the present. If someone else were here, Severus could concentrate on his brewing and hopefully ignore Potter as much as possible.

And yet, trusting someone else with his responsibilities had led to this crisis in the first place. He was not inclined to repeat that mistake.

As if she guessed his thoughts, Fleur spoke up. "I am qualified, Professor. I received top scores on my A.B.E.I.L.L.E.S., tests like your N.E.W.T.S., and I was offered an apprenticeship at l'Institute de l'Elixirs in Paris."

Severus was impressed in spite of himself. L'Institute de l'Elixirs was known as one of the most rigorous Potions Mastery courses in the world. Severus had been accepted there as an apprentice years ago, but had chosen to study at another prestigious institute in Germany instead. Still, he had high regard for the French school, and if Delacour had been accepted there, she must know what she was doing.

He studied her, reminding himself that it would never do to dismiss her as just a pretty face. She had been her school's champion in the Triwizard Tournament, after all.

"Brew me a Replenishing Potion, and I'll decide if it's acceptable," he finally growled.

She smiled as if he had paid her a compliment and disappeared into the laboratory.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Minerva asked.

"Leave me in peace."

"Very well. The others are anxious to hear how Harry's doing, anyway." She went over to Potter and, to Severus' amazement, she kissed his forehead as Molly Weasley had done.

Once Minerva had left, Severus gazed in wonder at Potter. What was it about the boy? Why was every other adult wrapped around his little finger? Why was Severus the only one who could see Potter's true colours?

***

The next few days passed without any major setbacks. Potter's condition improved slightly, though it would be weeks before he was fully healed. Fleur proved quite competent and was a valuable help to Severus, though he didn't tell her so. He allowed her to take over brewing Blood-Replenishing potions while he concentrated on the specialized salves needed to heal the cursed marks on Potter's arms and the medicines for healing his internal injuries.

Potter had to take the Replenishing Potion every few hours for the first couple of days. Then his blood levels rose to an acceptable level, except when his arms bled again. It was no longer critical when this happened, now that the boy had enough blood that he wasn't about to die, but Severus or Minerva did need to be nearby to stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, the specialized salves needed to brew for three weeks before Severus could add the thickening agent to turn the liquid potions into salves, and then another three weeks before they were ready to use.

Fortunately, the potions to heal his internal injuries did not take as long to make, but they were slow-acting, so it would take time before those wounds healed as well.

Most concerning now was the fact that Potter was still unconscious and they didn't know if his mind had been damaged by the torture he'd suffered. But none of them dared talk much about that possibility.

July 31st came and went. Against his will, Severus reluctantly allowed the Weasley clan and Granger to come back and visit Potter. They were all still staying at Hogwarts, but the one advantage in caring so intensively for Potter was that Severus had been able to stay in his own quarters and avoid them. Minerva kept them updated on their friend's condition and told him several times that they were eager to visit, but Severus had put them off until the morning of the 31st, when they showed up and begged to see Potter, even for a few minutes.

"It's his birthday, Severus," Molly Weasley wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "And I had planned such a party...But at least we can see him and spend a little time with him."

"There's no point in it, though," Severus grumbled. "Potter's unconscious. He won't even know you're here."

"But we know," Arthur said.

At the same time Granger piped up, "He might, Professor. There've been studies that prove comatose patients are sometimes aware..."

"Spare me the blathering, Granger," Severus stepped aside and grudgingly motioned them in. "You can't stay long."

He was afraid he would have to witness their emotional outpourings of affection, but he was spared by the sudden appearance of Albus Dumbledore hurrying down the stone corridor towards Severus' rooms, Minerva close behind.

About bloody time! He thought to himself.

"Severus, how is Harry?" Albus was normally so calm. It was odd to hear the anxiety in his voice and see fear in his bright blue eyes.

"Physically, he is recovering, but it will be a long convalescence," Severus told him. "Mentally, we still don't know."

It was a sign of his great concern that Albus did not pause to ask permission to enter, but rushed right on into the bedroom to see the boy for himself.

After examining Potter, Albus rested his good hand on the boy's shoulder. "Poor child." His voice was infinitely sad. "How many times does he have to pay for my mistakes?"

But then he straightened and sounded more like himself. "If the others would be so kind as to stay with Harry a while, I'd like to speak with you alone, Severus. Perhaps in my office?"

Severus nodded, unable to meet the headmaster's eyes. It was his fault Potter was in this shape, and Albus was right to be upset with him. He showed them the jar containing Floo powder on the fireplace mantel so they could get in touch if Potter's condition changed, and then he and Albus left.

They were silent until they had reached the office. When the door closed behind them, Severus burst out, "I accept all the blame. I knew Fletcher was worthless and still I-"

"Severus," Albus laid a hand on his shoulder. "I did not bring you here for reprimands. And it is not your fault."

Severus did not answer, but remained still and bowed his head. Albus was one of the very few people whose good opinion he valued, and the only one he ever allowed, even rarely, to offer a comforting touch.

"You had no choice but to use Mundungus," Albus spoke gently. "You had to rest. It was too much for one person alone to keep watch so long. I should've returned earlier, but my project is crucial to Voldemort's defeat, and I truly believed things would be fine. I did not believe anyone outside of the Order knew Harry was at the Burrow, and I'm still not sure why the wards failed. They should have been able to Apparate out before the Death Eaters could capture Harry."

"Potter was outside alone, right at the edge of the wards," Severus explained quietly. He made himself move away from the warmth of Albus' hand and sat down in an armchair by the desk. "I don't know how they knew he was there."

Albus sat opposite him. "Minerva gave me the gist of what happened, but perhaps you could tell me in more detail?" So Severus told him everything that had happened and they discussed Potter's condition for over an hour.

"A unique blend of poisons," Albus mused. "And you haven't been able to figure out one of the ingredients?"

"That's right. Although I haven't been able to devote as much time to the issue as I'd like, what with brewing things for Potter at all hours of the day and night."

And Voldemort didn't have you develop this poison?" Albus questioned sharply.

That thought had already occurred to Severus. He met the headmaster's gaze. "No."

They considered the implications. If Voldemort had not called upon his trusted Potions Master to come up with a new creation, perhaps that Potions Master wasn't so trusted after all. And if Voldemort did not trust someone's loyalties, that person tended to die young.

"You realize, Severus, that in saving Harry's life, you might well have saved your own, too," Albus commented.

"It does seem as if my days of spying were numbered," Severus agreed. He gave Albus a shrewd look. ""To change the subject, Albus, I noticed something curious about Potter just this morning."

"You did?"

"Yes. There are scars across his back. Obviously from old wounds. Since you did away with corporal punishment on becoming headmaster, I doubt Potter received those scars at Hogwarts. None of the professors here would do anything like that, anyway. Not even I."

"Of course you wouldn't do anything like that, Severus," Albus scolded him gently. "You are a better person than you give yourself credit for, you know."

Severus waved a dismissive hand at that notion. "Potter's scars?"

Albus was silent for so long that Severus had decided he wasn't going to answer when he finally spoke. "Perhaps it would be better if you knew. Harry's relatives are not very kind to him."

If Albus Dumbledore had announced plans to leave Hogwarts and become a tap dancer, Severus would not have been more shocked.

"Not very kind?" He demanded. "You don't mean--, they did that? But, but..."

"I've always told you that you were mistaken about Harry," Albus said. "He is not arrogant or spoiled, Severus. Far from it. He's had a very difficult life from the time he was a toddler."

It was more than Severus could take in. Potter could not possibly be a mistreated child. He was pampered and adored by practically everyone. It was obvious. Albus must be wrong. But he had seen the scars with his own eyes.

A thought occurred to him and he looked up. "You knew? And you let him stay there?"

He'd never seen such a look of grief on his mentor's face. "There is a reason, Severus. I don't like it, but it had to be."

"What possible reason could there be?" Severus demanded. "You stood up to my father, Albus. You kept me here during the summers before I was of age. Why not Potter?"

"Why, Severus, you sound concerned for Harry. Protective, almost," Albus raised his eyebrows.

It had the desired effect. Severus scowled and headed for the door. "It will be a cold day in hell before the Potter brat worms his way into my heart, Albus. If you'll excuse me."

"Severus, you must never use that information to taunt Harry."

He allowed Albus to see the fury, but not the hurt, his words caused. "In one breath, you commend me, and in the next, you accuse. I assure you, Albus, I'm quite aware that child abuse is a serious matter. Now, I have a potion to brew."

The shadowy forms circled him, their raucous laughter like the cries of wild beasts moving in to kill their prey. And behind them-he-was there, his demonic eyes beaming at the frenzied torture. Always him. He was always there, hunting, plotting, hurting. Harry would never be free of him, never.

And then he hurts so much he can't think beyond it. There's only a desperate longing for the people who once loved him, who would have helped and protected him...Please...Please...

"You're safe. It's all right now. They can't hurt you anymore." A voice pulled him from the nightmare, a voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Harry knew he had heard that voice before, but at the same time there was something so different about it that he couldn't remember where or who it belonged to.

He tried to open his eyes to see, but his eyelids were so heavy and he was so weak. Perhaps it would be better not to, anyway. Perhaps it was some sort of trick and the Death Eaters would be waiting if he looked. Fear clenched his heart again.

But the voice said, almost gently, "You're safe, Potter. Rest now."

Harry became dimly aware that he didn't hurt nearly as much anymore, that he was lying on something soft and comfortable. Maybe the voice was right. Maybe....

Severus watched as Potter fell asleep again. When the boy had first begun whimpering, he had been across the room, lying on the cot he had transfigured for himself and trying to get to sleep after another exhausting day brewing those complicated potions. He had instantly spelled the lights on and looked to see if Potter had wakened.

When he'd realized the boy was caught in a nightmare instead of fully awake, he'd felt mingled hope, worry, and annoyance. Potter must not be as deeply unconscious as he had been. He would probably regain awareness soon, and then they would see if their boy hero was still sane. And at the same time, Severus couldn't help feeling a bit frustrated. He himself was worn out and just wanted to rest. How had he gotten himself stuck playing nursemaid?

But Potter had been crying piteously and twisting, and Severus hadn't wanted him to start his arms bleeding again. So he had known he had to quiet the boy somehow. And deep down, he'd also known that he couldn't leave Potter trapped in his terrifying memories regardless. Severus knew better than anyone what the boy was suffering.

He had gone to Potter's bedside and spoke, his voice coming out so soothingly that it had startled him. When did he speak to Potter like that? When did he speak to anyone like that?

But it worked. After a few minutes, the boy grew still and then fell back into a peaceful sleep. Severus checked to be sure he hadn't hurt himself, but the bandages on Potter's arms were still clean, and Severus started to turn away.

Then he paused. Potter had gotten the bedcovers into a tangled mass around his knees. It was cool in the dungeons, especially at night. The last thing they needed was the boy getting chilled on top of everything else. Severus waved his wand over the sleeping form, and the sheets and quilt straightened and tucked themselves lightly around Potter's shoulders.

Severus' hand twitched towards the boy, almost as if he were going to smooth the child's hair from his forehead. But he caught himself and scowled as he went back to his cot. Even though Potter remained quiet, it was a long time before Severus was able to sleep.

***

Harry woke with a start. His muscles were tensed, and fear clawed at his throat, but he wasn't sure why. Then, in a terrifying rush, it all came back to him-the Death Eaters snatching him from the Burrow, Voldemort, the hours of agony, lying in the cold cellar as his blood soaked into the ground.

His breath caught in a strangled gasp, and he looked around frantically. His eyesight was poor without his glasses, but he did realize he was not in the cellar anymore. But where was he?

The room was fairly large, and was comfortable and attractive. He was lying in a four-poster bed, his head propped on deep, fluffy pillows, and a quilt in shades of blue tucked around his shoulders. A night table stood beside the bed on the right, and his glasses rested atop it.

Harry reached for them, noticing his dirty clothes were gone and he was wearing soft pajamas. His forearms were wrapped in white bandages. Obviously, someone had gone to the trouble to clean and care for him, so he probably was safe now. Maybe.

Harry slid his glasses on and looked around again. A tall wardrobe stood in one corner and there was a midnight blue armchair set in another. A couple of landscape paintings hung on the pale stone walls-one of a clear lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and the other of a stormy sea. There was no window, but two narrow doors were set along perpendicular walls. Another little table stood close to his bed, and a cauldron sat upon it. A blue flame danced underneath the cauldron, and whatever was inside bubbled busily to itself.

Harry wondered what was brewing, a little nervously. He eased himself into a sitting position and craned his neck to try to see, but the deep purple liquid was unfamiliar to him.

A slight noise made him jerk his head toward one of the doors, and Harry's eyes widened as Severus Snape came hurrying in, carrying a jar of crushed brown powder.

Snape almost dropped the jar when he saw Harry staring at him, but he recovered quickly and stepped to the bed. Harry flinched before he could stop himself.

"You are Hogwarts, Potter. You're safe now." There was an odd note in the man's voice. It was not exactly gentle, but it was lacking the hostility Snape usually showed for him.

"Hogwarts?" Harry's own voice was so thin and reedy, it almost frightened him.

"Yes. You do remember Hogwarts?" Was that echoing fear in Snape's voice? It couldn't be. The idea of Snape being afraid of anything was ludicrous.

"Well, sure," Harry gazed at him in bewilderment. He waited for Snape to reprimand him for impertinence-"The proper response is ‘Yes, sir,' Potter!"-but Snape just kept staring intently at him, his black eyes keen and searching.

Harry hesitated, but he had to know, and if that meant asking Snape, then he'd just have to do it. "How?"-His voice gave out, and he had to swallow before speaking again. "How did I get here? Sir?"

"The Order rescued you," Snape's voice was still not unfriendly, and he was staring at him as if he'd never seen anything like Harry before. It was all rather surreal to Harry. Maybe he'd died after all, and this was some sort of strange afterlife. Or maybe he was dreaming. But why in the world would he dream about Snape?

"What do you remember, Potter?"

Harry didn't think he could answer that one. He remembered most of everything, he thought, at least until he'd passed out. But he wasn't sure he could talk about it with anyone, and he certainly couldn't talk about it with Snape. To his horror, his eyes filled with tears and he quickly turned his head away to stare at the wall, hoping Snape hadn't noticed. If the Potions professor ever caught him crying...well, that didn't bear thinking of. Harry would have to transfer to some other school because he would never be able to face anyone after Snape finished mocking him.

But if Snape had noticed Harry's weakness, he didn't take advantage. Instead, the man set the jar with the brown powder down beside the cauldron, and hurried over to the fireplace. He reached into another jar on the mantel and tossed Floo powder in the grate. He knelt and called, "Potter's awake, Albus." He just barely got out of the way before there was a rush of green flame. Dumbledore stepped out and hurried over to the bed.

"Harry!" Dumbledore sat beside him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry was surprised to see tears in Dumbledore's eyes. "I'm so glad you're awake. You gave us quite a scare, you know."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

But Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry, it isn't your fault. I didn't mean to imply that it was. We were just so afraid we'd lost you. How do you feel?"

"I'm okay." He was, wasn't he? He still hurt, but not nearly as bad as before.

Dumbledore gave him a knowing look from behind his half-moon spectacles and Snape snorted.

But before either of them could speak, a thought suddenly occurred to Harry, and he looked up in panic. "Sir! The Weasleys? And Hermione? Are they all right?"

"They're fine, Harry. They're very worried about you, but they're fine. As are all the Order members who rescued you," Dumbledore reassured him. He studied Harry thoughtfully over his half-moon spectacles. "If you're okay though, Harry, then I am a two-headed thestral. The truth, please."

Harry sighed. "Well, I still hurt all over, but not too bad. Mostly, I'm just weak."

"It's to be expected. You were badly injured and you lost a lot of blood," Dumbledore told him. "You will recover, though. Don't worry." He paused and then asked softly, "Do you remember what happened, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away. He didn't want to lie to Dumbledore, who would probably see right through him anyway, but he didn't want to talk about it either, especially in front of Snape.

As if he'd sensed Harry's thoughts, Dumbledore asked, "Would it be easier if we talked alone?"

Harry nodded gratefully, refusing to meet either Dumbledore's or Snape's eyes.

"Severus, would you mind?"

"Just a moment," the Potions Master replied, more agreeably than Harry would have expected. "I need to add the crushed locusts' legs to this potion first."

They waited in silence as Snape measured out some of the brown powder, added it to the potion, and carefully stirred. Then he left by the other door, closing it behind him.

Dumbledore squeezed Harry's shoulder softly. Haltingly, Harry told him everything that had happened that fateful morning, everything that he could remember at least.

When he'd finished, Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder again and said, "I'm so sorry, Harry. I thought you would be safe at the Burrow. If I'd had any idea that this would happen, I'd never-"

"It was my fault, sir," Harry stopped him. "I shouldn't have gone out right to the edge of the wards. It made it easy for them to grab me. I wasn't thinking. But the Dursleys hate me, and I hate living with them. I was glad you took me to the Burrow."

"Well, at least you're safe now," Dumbledore said. "But Harry, it was not your fault. Not in the slightest, and I don't want you to blame yourself. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded and then seized a chance to change the subject. "Where am I, sir? Snape said we were at Hogwarts, but I've never been here." He gestured to the room.

"Try to keep your arms as still as you can, Harry. They may start to bleed again," Dumbledore advised. "And it's ‘Professor' Snape. As for never being here, well, I don't suppose you have. This is Professor Snape's bedroom."

Harry stared at him, aghast. "Bedroom? You mean, this is his bed?"

Dumbledore seemed amused. "Why, yes, it is, Harry. Professor Snape has been very kind to give up his privacy in order to care for you better."

"But why? Why couldn't I stay in the infirmary instead?" Harry would have thought that Snape would have rather eaten poisonous toadstools than let Harry anywhere near his own rooms, and the feeling was entirely mutual.

"You were badly injured, as I told you. You needed constant attention, and Madame Pomfrey has gone out of the country on holiday and it has proven difficult to contact her. In any case, some of your wounds needed more specialized care than she could have given. Professor Snape was-and still is-the best person to tend to you."

"What exactly is wrong with me, sir?"

Dumbledore considered. "You suffered the Cruciatus curse for hours."

Harry nodded, shuddering a little. Dumbledore's hand moved from his shoulder to stroke his cheek in wordless comfort. Then he continued. "We've been very concerned that your mind might have been damaged from that, but--"

"Like Neville's parents," Harry whispered, feeling a fresh rush of sympathy for the Longbottom family.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, but after talking with you, I feel confident that you are quite sane, as much as ever." The corners of lips quirked.

Recognizing the headmaster's quip as an effort to make him feel better, Harry tried to smile back.

"Then the knife that was used to cut your arms had been dipped into poison, and the poison got into your bloodstream. It damaged your liver and spleen, but Professor Snape has been giving you potions for that. They are not completely healed yet. You will feel tender and sore for a time, and you have to have enzymes added to your food for a few weeks until your liver starts producing them on its own again, but with proper care, it's nothing to worry about, Professor Snape and Miss Delacour assure us."

"Fleur?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, she's been assisting Professor Snape. She's very good at Potions, you know. You lost a lot of blood, as I already mentioned, but Blood-Replenishing Potions are helping with that. Most concerning at the moment, is that the knife that cut you was also cursed with Dark Magic, and the wounds on your arms are resistant to traditional healing methods. They're still open and prone to start bleeding again. Now, Professor Snape is working on some very potent Healing Salves for your arms, but it will be a few weeks before they're ready. So in the meantime, you will need to stay here to recuperate."

"Stay here? But couldn't I go back to the Tower or the infirmary now? I'm better than I was." Harry couldn't imagine anything worse than having to stay in Snape's quarters for weeks. The whole summer would be over before he got to leave.

Dumbledore sighed. "I know you and Professor Snape have had your differences-"

It was all Harry could do not to snort at that, but he thought it would just be too rude.

"But you need to be with someone who can deal with cursed magic. Professor Snape has been very gracious in agreeing to have you stay here."

Dumbledore didn't add, " and I expect the same from you." But Harry could see it in his expression.

"Harry," Dumbledore paused, then said slowly, "I believe that Professor Snape is beginning to see you from a new perspective. If you are willing to let bygones be bygones, the two of you might be able to come to a new understanding."

"Maybe I don't want to let bygones be bygones," Harry burst out. He didn't want to be rude to Dumbledore, but this was too much. "Maybe I don't want to come to a new understanding. It's all his fault, anyway. He hated me from the very first day, from the very first Potions class, and I hadn't done anything to him. He ruined everything!"

He looked away, blinking back the tears that had suddenly filled his eyes.

"Harry," Dumbledore's voice was filled with compassion and he once more ran his fingers over Harry's cheek. Harry bit his lip and struggled fiercely to keep breaking down completely. He could not imagine why he was so upset. He must weaker and more affected by the kidnapping than he'd realized.

"You're bleeding."

Harry looked at his arms and was surprised to see red stains on the white cloth. Dumbledore waved his wand, and the blood vanished.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, Harry. You need to try to stay calm, all right?"

"Why couldn't I stay with you?" Harry didn't mean for his voice to sound so plaintive, but he really, really didn't want to have to stay here with Snape. The professor might be civil as long as Dumbledore was around, but alone with him was another matter. Harry didn't for one minute think that Snape was willing to come to a new understanding, whatever that meant.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm just not able to give you the care you need right now." He held up his other arm, which had been mostly out of sight, hidden in the folds of his robes. Harry was surprised to see it wrapped in a thick bandage like his own.

"Did it hurt you too, sir? The curse from the knife?"

"Oh, no, Harry. I had already done this before you were abducted. This is a different kind of injury from yours," Dumbledore explained easily. "But I am afraid I am not able to keep you with me right now, and Professor Snape is the only wizard I trust to be able to heal you. I will visit you as often as I can, though, and Professor Snape has even agreed to allow Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to visit for brief times. They're here and they're very anxious to see you. Shall I fetch them?"

Harry opened his mouth to say ‘yes,' and then at the last minute changed his mind. Hadn't he realized that it was too dangerous to stay friends with Ron and Hermione even before the Death Eaters had grabbed him? Hadn't that attack just proven he was right? It would be the hardest, most painful thing he'd ever done, but he was going to have to cut his friends out of his life. It was for their own good.

"No, thanks, sir. I'm pretty tired. I think I'll try to go back to sleep." Harry made a show of rearranging the pillows, taking off his glasses, and lying down.

Dumbledore looked surprised, but he nodded. "Very well, Harry. I'm sure they'll understand. I'll come down again later."

He left by the doorway, and a moment later Snape came back in. "Your idiotic Gryffindor friends may not stay long, and there'll be no rowdiness. I've got better things to do than stand about and heal wounds that bleed at the drop of a pin." There was the familiar sneer, and Harry wondered again why Dumbledore persisted in his delusions of the two of them getting along. It was just never going to happen.

"My friends aren't coming down," Harry forced himself to add, "Sir. I'm tired."

Snape gave him another long searching look and Harry closed his eyes to get away from it. When he cautiously opened one eye a slit, Snape was gone.

"Arry?"

Harry opened his eyes at the soft voice to find Fleur Delacour studying him. She was as lovely as ever, with her platinum hair piled loosely on top of her head, and her wide blue eyes filled with concern. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and for some reason Harry felt intensely embarrassed that he was in pajamas and apparently had been sound asleep. He really must be more weak and tired than he'd realized.

At first he was dazed at seeing her, then remembered Ron and Ginny telling him that she and Bill were engaged and Dumbledore had mentioned her helping with his medicines, hadn't he? So he supposed it made sense for her to be here now, but it was a little shocking to come awake from a deep sleep and find himself face to face with someone he hadn't seen in over a year.

"Fleur?" He noticed that his voice still sounded weak.

"Ow do you feel?" She asked gently.

"I've been better," Harry tried to smile. "But I guess I've been worse, too."

"Can you be more specific, Arry, please? We may need to adjust the dosage of your potions."

Harry sighed. "Well, I kind of ache all over, but it's a dull ache. It's not horrible. My chest is a little sore and my arms are numb, but mostly I'm just really tired."

"Et ez time for you to take another dose of Blood-Replenishing Potion so that weel ‘elp you feel stronger, for a little while anyway." Fleur reached for the night table and Harry saw that a small jar filled with a dark red liquid was there. Fleur handed it to him and Harry reluctantly took it. However much good they might do, most potions tasted nasty, and this one was no exception.

He grimaced and handed the empty jar back to Fleur. "Why do these things always have to taste so bad?"

"Weel, just consider the ingredients that go ento them. You can't expect them to taste like sweets." Fleur patted his cheek. "I am very glad that you're all right, ‘Arry."

"Thanks," Harry told her. "And thanks for helping with my potions."

She smiled as she stood to leave. "Et ez my pleasure. You saved Gabrielle, and I'm ‘appy to be able to do something for you. And I'm ‘onored to work with Professor Snape. "E ez a genius, you know, even if ‘e ez not the friendliest soul."

"Humf."

They both looked over to see Snape scowling at them from the doorway of his office. Rather than appearing embarrassed, Fleur gave him a cheery smile. "I am off to eat dinner with Bill. Good-bye, Professor. Good-bye, ‘Arry."

Harry was tempted to ask her to stay and not leave him alone with Snape, but he couldn't show that much weakness to the professor, and it would make him look a fool besides. All right, he told himself. You are a Gryffindor. Act like one. Besides, what's the worst he can do? It's not like he's going to Crucio me. That reminded him of the Death Eaters and the white-hot fire in his bones as they had tortured him. He shuddered and closed his eyes against the memories.

"Potter?"

There was a sound of soft footsteps and Harry opened his eyes to find Snape standing close and handing him another bottle of liquid, a light blue potion this time.

"There is no reason for you to be in pain." Snape's voice was even, not sympathetic, but once again Harry noticed that the man didn't sound hateful either. Hmm, that was odd.

"Drink this, and if you are still uncomfortable, tell me and I can get you a stronger dose." Snape's lip curled, making him look and sound more familiar. "If your Gryffindor pride will allow you to admit to not being superhuman."

Harry swallowed the bitter medicine, vowing to himself that he would never admit to weakness in front of Snape, but the potion did its job and Harry's aches disappeared, leaving him feeling a pleasant floating sensation. He hated to have to do it, but something made him glance up at Snape and mumble, "Thank you."

"Humf." Snape turned to leave, heading for his living room this time, but then he paused and turned back to Harry. "Your friends have not ceased to pester me this afternoon. If school were started, I assure you Gryffindor would be in negative points by now. As it is, I suggest you allow them to visit this evening so they can see for themselves that you are still alive."

Harry had been reaching for his glasses. He froze and considered what excuse he could give this time. It made him feel terrible, for he longed to see Ron and Hermione, and he knew they were worried about him. It would hurt them to be rebuffed by him. But it would hurt them far more when Voldemort came after them or their families.

That thought stiffened his resolve and he said firmly, "I have a headache, sir. I don't feel like company right now. I'll see my friends later."

Snape rolled his eyes. "If you're going to lie, Potter, you need to learn to do it convincingly. You just drank a Level 5 painkilling potion. You couldn't possibly have a bad headache. In any case, I thought you and Weasley and Granger would crawl over broken glass for one another."

Harry remained stubbornly silent and refused to meet Snape's sharp gaze.

After a moment, the Potions professor shrugged. "Well, far be it from me to insist on having silly, obnoxious children in my quarters. Suit yourself, Potter." He spun on his heel and left Harry alone.

After an hour, Harry almost wished that Snape would return. There was absolutely nothing to do. The Blood-Replenisher had made him a bit stronger and he'd already slept for most of the day so he wasn't tired enough to sleep again. There was no one to talk with, and nothing to read. He was desperate enough even to want his textbooks and a chance to work on his summer homework, but of course all his things were at the Burrow, if the Death Eaters hadn't destroyed them.

He wondered what had had happened at the Burrow. He knew all the Weasleys and Hermione were safe, thank goodness, but he wondered if the Death Eaters had returned there to hunt for them and destroy things. And exactly how had he been rescued? How had the Order known where to find him, and how had they gotten him out of that horrible cellar? Which Order members had come? Probably not Remus, because surely his father's friend would have stayed and come to check on him now that he was awake, but Harry wished Remus had been one of his rescuers, and that he could see him again. It seemed a very long time since the beginning of summer when he had seen Remus last.

He was staring at the picture of the stormy sea on the wall and wondering what it would be like to see the ocean in person when there was a knock on the door and he looked over to see Dumbledore standing there, wearing silver robes and carrying a tray of food with his good arm. Harry wondered again how he had injured the other one.

"Sir!" Harry smiled and sat up straighter.

Dumbledore seemed pleased to see him, too. "Harry, you look stronger already. Do you feel like eating a bite of supper?"

He hadn't realized it until then, but he was hungry. His stomach rumbled as he saw the bowl of steaming soup and a stack of warm buttered toast.

"I'll take that as a ‘yes'," Dumbledore chuckled as he came and set the tray down in front of Harry. He settled himself on the side of the bed and stopped Harry as he reached for the spoon.

"You really shouldn't be moving your arms. Here, let me."

But Harry could not accept Dumbledore spoon-feeding him. There were limits, after all.

"Sir, I can feed myself. I'm not a baby."

"It has nothing to do with your age or maturity, Harry," the headmaster told him gently. "We simply do not want to start the bleeding again. You've lost enough blood as it is." When Harry still looked mutinous, he added. "You know, it is a mark of true maturity to allow others to help you when you need it."

Harry sighed. He didn't like it, but he could see Dumbledore's point, and he was pretty hungry. "All right, sir." And not wanting to seem ungrateful, he continued, "And thank you."

"You're very welcome."

The vegetable soup was warm and rich and slightly tangy. Harry thought it was the best soup he'd ever eaten, and the toast was delicious, too. After the first few bites, Harry was able to forget the ignominy of being fed because Dumbledore began answering his unspoken questions by giving him the details of his rescue.

At one point Harry nearly choked on his soup. "Our minds connected? Snape's and mine? No offense, sir, but are you sure?

"Professor Snape, Harry, and yes, we're quite sure. A most fortunate contingency, too, as it saved your life. Your rescuers were searching for you at the homes of Death Eaters. I doubt anyone would have thought to look for you at the Riddle House, certainly not in time to save you."

"Yeah, I guess it was pretty fortunate," Harry mumbled. "But how did it happen? I mean, I wasn't thinking about trying to call Sn---Professor Snape. Was he trying to use that Legilimency stuff on me?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, it never occurred to Professor Snape to attempt Legilimency. After all, Legilimency does not normally work that way at all. In most cases, the two parties must be in close proximity to one another, and eye contact is often needed as well. You remember that from your Occlumency lessons last year, don't you?"

Harry nodded, but since he didn't want to think about those horror sessions with Snape, he brought the conversation back on topic.

"Sir? You said ‘in most cases'. Has it ever happened before? A mind connection like what happened with Professor Snape and me?"

Dumbledore hesitated and for an instant, Harry thought his blue eyes looked haunted.

"Yes," the headmaster said slowly. "It is extremely rare, but there has been at least one other similar case." His voice faded and he gazed sightlessly into space.

Harry wanted to know more, but something in Dumbledore's pained expression prevented him from asking questions. After a minute, Dumbledore seemed to come back to the present and forced himself to smile at Harry.

"Perhaps I'll tell you more about that other case another time, Harry, but I'm still pondering the implications and I don't believe I have it figured out yet. In the meantime, I'm sure you want to know what happened after Professor Snape realized where you were..."

A few minutes more and Harry was gawking at him again. "Snape rescued me?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Professor Snape. You really do owe him the courtesy of using his title, Harry. He's done a great deal for you lately."

Harry blushed. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. But Professor Snape is the one who rescued me?"

"I think all the Order members who were there should be credited. They all took the same risk, and they delayed Voldemort and his followers long enough for Professor Snape to free you."

"Oh yes, I'm terribly grateful to all of them," Harry said quickly, wanting to explain himself. "I was just surprised that Professor Snape was the one who actually got me here."

"Is it really so surprising, Harry? Professor Snape has saved your life before, you know."

"Well, yes, I just kind of thought you were the one who had saved me."

Dumbledore reached to lightly squeeze his shoulder. "Harry, I was absolutely horrified when I returned to Hogwarts and learned what had happened to you in my absence. It was one of my gravest mistakes, and I've made some grave mistakes before, to leave without letting anyone know how to contact me in an emergency."

"The only defense I can offer is that the project I am working on is crucial to Voldemort's defeat and I could not take a chance on the information falling into the wrong ears. If I should have to leave again, however, I will make sure Fawkes knows how to reach me. I should have taken that precaution before. There is no excuse, but to be honest, Harry, I have had a great many things on my mind lately, and I think I've become somewhat addlepated, trying to get everything accomplished before--" Once again, his voice trailed off.

This time Harry couldn't stop himself. "Before what?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Another time, Harry. But I promise I will tell you more about my project when we have our private lessons this year."

Seeing that Harry had finished eating, Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder again and stood. "Before I leave, is there anything else you would like to ask or that I could do for you?"

"Um, could I have my stuff from the Burrow? Or did the Death Eaters ruin everything?"

"Your belongings are safely in Gryffindor Tower, Harry. Well, except for your owl and she's in the Owlery. A few days ago Aurors accompanied Molly and Arthur back to their home and they were able to pack everyone's belongings and collect the pets. I will have your trunk brought down in the morning."

"Thank you, sir, and thanks for bringing me dinner."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him. "You're welcome, but actually Professor Snape is the one who ordered your food. I arrived at the same time as your plate and as I was coming to visit you anyway, I simply brought it in to you."

Well, Harry thought to himself, at least Snape hadn't been the one to spoon-feed him. He shuddered to think of all the ways Snape could think of to torment him with that knowledge.

Perhaps it was having a full stomach, or else the strength from the Blood-Replenisher had worn off, but after Dumbledore had left, Harry found that he was sleepy again. He placed his glasses on the night table and moving his arms carefully, he lay down, curled up under the quilt, and let himself drift off.

***

The noise was quiet, but it was enough to wake Severus. He opened his eyes; then realized that Potter was crying softly. He cringed inwardly. He was not comfortable dealing with sentimental baggage, even with students he did like, which admittedly were few and far between. A part of him wanted nothing more than to roll over, pull his blankets over his head, and pretend he'd never heard Potter.

But he couldn't do that. If there ever had been a time when he could have ignored the boy's pain, then it had passed. Potter had endured unimaginable torments from the Death Eaters and if there were any small way that Severus could help the boy---well, then he just had to, whether he was comfortable with it or not.

Furthermore, although he wasn't quite ready to admit it even to himself, it was becoming difficult to summon his old hatred for the boy. Potter was not the spoiled, arrogant little princeling that Severus had assumed him to be. He'd been wrong about the boy; he couldn't deny it. Not now that he'd seen the scars across the boy's back. Not after reading the letter he'd received from Potter's relatives. He wouldn't call them ‘family' because they'd obviously never been that for Potter.

It was Hogwarts' policy to notify a student's family in the case of a serious accident or injury. Severus had worded it carefully to avoid giving specific details because he wasn't sure how much information should become public, but he had sent a notice to Privet Drive informing the Dursleys that their nephew had been badly hurt and was in serious condition.

Normally, this type of letter was delivered by a staff member, especially if the student's family were Muggles, so they could be escorted to the school to be at their child's side. But since he'd found out that the Dursleys were abusive, Severus had sent their letter by owl. They certainly didn't deserve to see Potter.

He needn't have worried. The Dursleys had made it quite plain that they had no desire to see the boy and did not care if he lived or died. The owl had been sent back with the most vitriolic, hateful letter Severus had ever seen. It was enough to spark his sense of outrage on Potter's behalf, and Severus was certainly no Potter fan.

But no child should be treated the way Potter had been. Deep in his heart, Severus felt a glimmering of empathy for the boy.

And he knew what it was like to suffer nightmares in the dark, so he went to Potter's side and repeated his litany from the night before. "It's all right, Potter. You're safe now."

But the crying didn't stop right away this time. Breathing a sigh of relief that Potter wasn't really awake and wouldn't know, Severus reached out and smoothed the boy's hair with a gentle hand. "No one is going to hurt you again, Potter. I promise. You're safe here."

He kept on carding his fingers through the mussed hair until finally the cries ceased.

The healing salves were coming along nicely. They would not be ready to use on Potter's arms for another four and a half weeks still, but the thick, slowly bubbling liquids were the exact shade of metallic grey that was correct for this early stage. Severus felt a strong sense of satisfaction at observing his work.

Whatever his other failings were, he could create potions---complex, direly needed potions that no one else had invented. Even that Fleur Delacour who had seen only the smallest bit of his work, had admitted that he was a genius.

Severus did not think this feeling was arrogance on his part. In every other area of his life, he considered himself a failure. He had no family, no friends with the possible exception of Albus Dumbledore, a career he did not enjoy, memories that could drive him insane if he allowed himself to dwell on them, and now that he could no longer spy against the Dark Lord, even his means of atonement had vanished.

But he could create potions.

A small sound, almost unnoticeable, caught his attention and he turned from his cauldrons to peer through the open doorway into his bedroom. Potter was stirring. Severus sighed. He would have to order breakfast for the boy, and unless Albus chose to visit again this morning, he would have to feed him. Wouldn't that be entertaining for the both of them?

He had been hoping that Fleur Delacour might show up early and take over that little chore, or that Potter's friends would be around at mealtimes. After all, the main reason he'd agreed to let them into his rooms was so that others could do the actual caring for Potter and he, Severus, could lock himself in his office and concentrate on his work.

But Delacour had brewed enough Blood-Replenishing Potion to last for awhile, and she had sent a message this morning saying that she was going to spend the day with Bill Weasley. And for some unknown reason, Potter was refusing to see the Weasleys and Granger. It was most frustrating. Severus had made the great concession of permitting those infuriating children to visit one another, and Potter was throwing it back in his face.

Even worse, it meant that Severus was going to have to see that the boy ate and was comfortable. He was frowning as he entered his bedroom.

Potter was sitting up, blinking owlishly, and he had not yet put on his glasses. Somehow, without the glasses, it was easier to see ‘Harry' rather than ‘young James.'

"Are you hungry?" Severus demanded without preamble.

He had a feeling that Potter would have liked to deny it, but after a moment's hesitation, the boy nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Your system is not strong enough to handle anything but soft foods, but I suppose eggs and toast would be all right." Severus told him. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Um, scrambled?" It came out sounding more like a question than an answer.

Severus went to the fireplace, took some Floo powder from the jar on the mantel, and ordered a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast from the kitchen. It appeared a few minutes later, hovering in mid-air along with a tumbler of juice.

Severus sighed again as he pulled a chair close to the bed and took the plate of food and the glass. Turning his attention back to Potter, he noticed that the boy had now put on his glasses and that there was a dawning look of horror on his face.

"Um, Professor, I really can feed myself. You don't have to, I mean, it isn't necessary---"

"I'll decide what's necessary, Potter," Severus growled, setting the tumbler of juice on the night table and spearing a forkful of eggs. "You're supposed to be keeping your arms still."

"But I wouldn't have to move them much. I'm sure they'll be all right," the boy argued.

Severus scowled even more fiercely. "Potter! It will be almost five weeks before your arms can be healed. Do you have any idea how much blood you can lose if you cause them to bleed several times a day? Do you want to undo all the hard work we have done in trying to help you get well? If your own health means nothing to you, you should at least show a little consideration for the people who risked their lives to save yours. Now quit arguing and eat."

Potter bit his lip and ducked his head. "But it's just-"

"If you say one more word, Potter, I'm going to put a Body-Binding Spell on you and shove these eggs down your foolish throat."

The professor's cool voice was nothing like Bellatrix's harsh tones, but Harry had a sudden vision of being frozen while the Death Eaters shot curses at him, being totally unable to move or make a sound, having to lie helpless as they tortured him. The room started to spin and then turned black. He couldn't breathe. It hurt. It hurt so much.

"Harry!" A gentle hand was squeezing his shoulder. "Harry, you're safe. You're safe here. Take a breath now. That's right."

The voice was soft and soothing, and slowly the memory receded. Harry drew in a shaky breath and realized that he was curled on his side, with his hands laced together on top of his head, his arms covering his face. He moved them and opened his eyes to see Snape kneeling beside him, his hand on Harry's shoulder, and a look on his face that Harry didn't think he'd ever seen before. Could it be concern?

Snape's black eyes traveled to Harry's arms and with a muttered oath, he reached for them. Harry looked too, and sure enough, the white bandages were soaked with blood now. The professor quickly pulled his wand and waved them over Harry's arms, murmuring an incantation that Harry couldn't decipher. After a few moments, the bleeding stopped and Snape Vanished the dirty bandages, then Summoned a bowl of cool water and a clean cloth.

Harry flinched, but Snape's touch was tender as he carefully washed the deep wounds and then wrapped them again in clean gauze. He glanced up at Harry and waved his wand again. A whoosh of air rushed over Harry's head, ruffling his dark hair. For a second Harry was confused, then realized that he must have gotten blood in his hair when he was cowering like a baby, and that Snape must have cleansed that, too.

The man Summoned a bottle of Blood-Replenisher and silently handed it to Harry to drink. Shuddering at the taste, Harry did so.

Only then did the Potions professor ease back into his chair and the two of them regarded each other uncertainly. Harry braced himself for some acerbic comment, but when Snape spoke, he said the last thing in the world Harry had expected him to say.

"I apologize, Potter. I would not actually harm you. I hope you realize that."

Oh, and all the years you've bullied me and humiliated me don't count as harm? But Harry wasn't really afraid of Snape physically hurting him and maybe it would be better if the professor understood why he had reacted the way he had instead of thinking that Harry was such a coward as to be undone by the threat of a Body-Bind Spell.

"It's just that that's what they did," he mumbled, dropping his eyes from Snape's gaze. "They put a Body-Bind Spell or something like it on me when they---when they were---, and I couldn't move or anything...."

He trailed off, feeling that he'd sounded more like a whinging baby than ever, but when he looked up he saw a flicker of emotion cross over Snape's face and then the man said briskly, "It's over now, Potter, and you're safe. No one is going to hurt you again."

The words sounded familiar somehow. Harry had a vague memory of someone saying them before and running light fingers through his hair to comfort him, but he couldn't imagine who. Surely Snape would never do such a thing. Would he?

He was distracted by the professor reaching for the plate of eggs and toast on the night table, and saying calmly, "Cold by now," and then, "That's better," when he'd cast a Heating Charm over it.

Snape turned back to Harry and said firmly, "No more theatrics. You need to eat, and I need to get back to work."

Harry still didn't like it, but he let Snape feed him without any more fuss.

Dumbledore had Harry's trunk sent down soon after breakfast. Harry hated to bother Snape again, but he really did want to get started on his assignments. The professor came and rather impatiently got out the textbooks and writing equipment and set them on the bed. Then he cast charms over them so that the books would turn their own pages and the quill would write by voice command.

"Are you all set now?" He demanded.

"I think so," Harry began when a thought occurred to him. A thought so terrible and with such enormous consequences that he actually felt himself turn pale.

"My wand," he whispered. "I lost my wand."

Snape opened the drawer of the night table and took out a slim wand. "You're not to use it yet, Potter. But it's here. It was on the ground at the Burrow."

Harry sagged back against the pillows. His relief was so intense he was overwhelmed by it. "Thank you."

Snape shrugged, but as he turned away, Harry thought he heard a very quiet, "You're welcome."

The morning passed quickly after that. Snape was holed up in his office and Harry was busy trying to catch up on his work. Several times he thought of Ron and Hermione and wished they were there, all of them doing their homework together as they had so often before. Ron would be making jokes and Harry would be laughing at them and Hermione would be lecturing them both.

He missed them so much it was like a physical ache, but Harry pushed those thoughts away and concentrated fiercely on learning the merits of the Venomous Tentacula. He had to get used to doing things alone now.

***

Severus kept a close eye on the boy the rest of the morning, although he was careful to make sure Potter didn't realize it. It wasn't difficult, as Potter seemed completely absorbed in his readings. If only he could pay half that much attention in Potions class, Severus thought dourly.

He really wasn't annoyed with Potter, though. He was concerned, and that was a very new feeling for Severus. But he had been truly shaken by their interaction that morning.

He had expected Potter to resist being fed by him, but he had not expected that violent reaction to his idle threat of the Body-Bind Spell. It was understandable, now that he knew that the Death Eaters had used it on the boy. And Severus regretted his choice of words. He never would have mentioned the Body-Bind if he'd known it would trigger such horrible memories for Potter. Severus had suffered the Cruciatus curse before, though thankfully he had not had to endure it for long. His mind reeled at the thought of the agony Potter must have suffered.

And then seeing the boy's arms soaked with blood again, and knowing that he had been the one to upset him so-that had bothered Severus. Unfamiliar feelings of guilt and anxiety were welling up inside him now every time he looked at Potter and he didn't like it.

But he couldn't seem to stop himself from checking on the boy every little while.

Just before lunch, there was a knock on the door leading to the corridor outside Snape's quarters. Harry looked up from his book to see the Potions professor stride out of his office and through the living room. Harry couldn't see the door but he could hear voices.

Snape came back to the bedroom. "Weasley and Granger would like to see you. Do you have another headache?" He sneered.

Harry was caught unaware. "I-um, could you tell them I'm asleep, sir?"

"No, I could not." Snape's voice was cool again. "You know, Potter, I was beginning to think you might not be quite the brat I've always assumed you to be, but you are acting like an ungrateful prig to your friends. The Weasleys risked their lives taking you in this summer, and Arthur and Bill Weasley were among those who helped save you from the Riddle House. Granger has done no less for you on other occasions. And this is how you repay them?"

Stung, Harry blurted out. "But that's why I can't see them! Because being friends with me puts them in danger. Next time Voldemort might decide to go after them too, and I don't want them to get hurt because of me. I'm not ungrateful. I love them. And that's why I can't see them. Don't you understand?"

There was a flash of---something---in Snape's eyes, and the man's expression seemed to alter slightly. He ran a hand through his dark hair and then he actually came to sit at the foot of the bed.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I can understand. But you're wrong, Potter. The Weasleys and Granger have chosen to be your friends in spite of the danger. You don't have the right to take that choice away from them. I'm sure they're well aware of the facts and they're all old enough to make their own decision. Obviously, they've decided that you are worth the risk."

He paused and then added. "In any case, I'm tired of Weasley and Granger bothering me. If you no longer want to be friends with them, you're going to have to tell them yourself."

Before Harry could stop him, Snape had headed back towards the living room. But did he really want to stop Snape? Maybe the man had a point. Maybe his friends did have the right to decide for themselves if they wanted to be around him.

Before he could ponder the matter any further, though, they were there. Ron and Hermione, crowded together in the doorway, looking anxious and eager and happy and frightened all at once. The three of them stared at one another. Then Ron and Hermione both flew at him, and Harry was sure they were going to pounce on him and make his arms bleed again, but they caught themselves at the last instant and hugged him very carefully.

"Harry! Are you all right? We've been worried sick! We kept coming and coming, but Professor Snape kept saying you were unconscious and then you finally woke up, but we still couldn't see you. Dumbledore said you were all right, but you weren't ready to see people yet. But you've been seeing Professor Snape and Fleur. Why not us?" Hermione sat back and regarded Harry with eyes that managed to be both sympathetic and reproachful.

"Yeah, mate. Haven't we always been there for each other? Why didn't you want to see us?" Ron settled himself on Harry's other side and looked at him curiously.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to," Harry tried to explain. "It's just that, well, Sirius died because of me, and now after this, I just thought that---"

"Oh, you thought you were endangering us." Hermione exclaimed.

Ron lightly cuffed him on the side of the head. "Harry, you idiot."

Harry frowned at them. "But I'm not being an idiot. I am endangering you, and your families. You really shouldn't hang around with me anymore. It's not safe."

Ron shrugged. "When has it ever been safe then? That's never stopped us before."

"Well, lately I've realized just how high the stakes are." Harry's voice grew sharp. "What happened to me was horrible. You don't know how horrible, and if anything like that happened to either of you, because of me, well, I couldn't bear it."

"Harry, what happened to you was horrible, and you're right that Ron and I can't know exactly how you've suffered." Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she reached for his hands. "But if you drop us, we can't bear that. We love you."

"What do you mean ‘if he drops us'? Like we're giving him a choice in the matter?" Ron demanded. He turned to Harry. "Sorry, mate, but you're stuck with us. It's too late to back out now."

Ron's words echoed what Snape had said earlier, but Harry decided not to mention that. Ron would probably have a fit at being compared to Snape in any way, although Harry had to admit that the professor had been surprisingly decent today. He stared at the pattern woven through the quilt---three different shades of blue, a trio, just like Ron and Hermione and him. He grinned even as tears blurred his eyesight.

"You two are pretty hard to get rid of, you know that?"

Hermione hugged him again and Ron put an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Well, now that we've got that all straightened out, what shall we do?" Ron eyed the textbooks and parchment scattered on the bed. "Harry, don't tell me you've been doing homework. There's still a month before school starts, you know."

"Less than a month, actually, Ron," Hermione informed him. "It's the tenth of August."

"The tenth of August?" Harry exclaimed.

Hermione looked surprised. "Didn't you know, Harry? You were unconscious for days."

"I didn't realize I was out of it for that long," he answered slowly. The tenth of August. He'd missed his birthday then. What was more, his arms weren't going to be healed by the time school opened. Would he be able to attend classes? Harry hated to think of missing the start of school.

But just then, looking at the best friends anyone could ever have, he decided that he wasn't going to worry about it right now. He was going to enjoy this afternoon with Ron and Hermione. "Either of you bring your cards? We could play Exploding Snap."

***

Severus debated casting a Silencing Charm around the room when the kids began their game, but decided that he'd better listen in case things got rowdy. He might need to go in and caution Potter to be careful about moving his arms.

He peered into the room and studied them---a slight boy in red striped pajamas with black hair that refused to lie flat, brilliant green eyes, and glasses; a tall lanky boy with bright flame-coloured hair and freckles; and a small girl with long bushy brown hair and brown eyes.

He shook his head. In his worst nightmares, he'd never seen Potter, Weasley, and Granger in his rooms. And yet, they were here by his own invitation. What was happening to him?

He must be going mad.

The next few days passed quickly. Harry tired easily and still slept a lot, but thanks to the painkilling potions, he was not uncomfortable. His arms didn't bleed again, and he slowly began to feel a little stronger.

Ron and Hermione came down to visit him in the afternoons, and the three of them worked on their homework, talked about the upcoming school year, or sometimes just sat quietly together. Ron and Hermione did not question him much about any of the difficult events that had happened in the past couple months, Sirius' death or the kidnapping, except for once on the second afternoon they'd come. Hermione tentatively asked Harry if he wanted to talk about what had happened with them.

Harry hesitated. Ron and Hermione were sitting on either side of the bed, facing him, their eyes warm and concerned. Hermione had reached to hold his hand, and Ron's hand was almost touching Harry's arm. He could talk with them about it, Harry knew, and they would listen and they would care. They cared about him, in spite of all the silly foolish mistakes he'd made, and they wanted to help him feel better.

Harry felt a warm rush of affection for them, but at the same time, he realized he didn't want to talk about being kidnapped and tortured, not just then. Not when he was feeling just a little bit happy again for the first time since last June, not on a warm afternoon when he could push it back and just joke around with his friends and look forward to school starting.

Just for now, he didn't want to think about Voldemort or Death Eaters or people who had died because of him or why he was stuck in bed instead of being outside enjoying the last couple weeks of summer. Just for now, he wanted to treasure the moment and not bring the fear and horror of his nightmares among them.

Because his nightmares haunted him except for the brief hours that Ron and Hermione could chase them away.

"Not yet," Harry told them, swallowing hard. "I will sometime, but not yet."

For a second, Hermione looked as if she wanted to pursue the subject, but then she nodded. ""All right, Harry." She glanced over at Ron. "How'd I do?"

Ron grinned. "Not bad. Better."

Harry looked from one to the other. "What?"

"Ron said I shouldn't try to push you to talk about things when you don't want to," Hermione explained. "We don't want to upset you, especially since it might cause your arms to bleed...not that we would want to upset you anyway, of course. So we'll just wait til you want to tell us."

"It's weird how my arms can start to bleed again, just because I might get upset about something," Harry remarked, looking down at his bandaged forearms.

"Well, not really," Hermione told him. "When you get angry or frightened, your heart starts to beat faster, you know, and that increases your blood pressure. If you have an open wound, it can cause bleeding."

"Thank you, Healer Granger," Ron said dryly.

Hermione glared. "Well, I just thought Harry might like to know why---"

"Okay, guys, I might get upset if you start fighting," Harry interrupted them, grinning a little bit.

They subsided at once, even though he was teasing.

"I wish we'd hurry up and get our O.W.L. results." Hermione said a moment later. "I can't plan my courses for this year without knowing my scores."

Harry blinked. With everything else that had happened, he had completely forgotten about such mundane matters as O.W. L. results.

"We haven't gotten those yet? Seems pretty late to be getting O.W.L. results, seeing as school starts in less than three weeks."

"It is really late to be getting them," Ron answered. "They usually come in July. But my dad says that You-Know-Who returning has gotten everything messed up at the Ministry. Apparently, some of the examiners decided they were going to go ahead and retire...some of them were pretty old, I guess...and then what with Fudge being forced out and rushing to elect a new Minister and with all those useless safety bulletins they've been sending out, they're really behind on grading exams. Dumbledore himself had to remind them that Hogwarts would need the results before the start of term, but they promised that the scores would be sent out before the end of August. So we should get them soon."

"I hope so. It seems like we've been waiting forever," Hermione said.

Ron shrugged and Harry had the impression that he could have happily waited until the next summer for his results. He himself felt a little curious, but also a little worried. If he still wanted to be an Auror, then his scores were important, and he already knew he'd done poorly on Astronomy and History of Magic. Not that those two subjects were crucial to his career plans, but he also wasn't sure how well he'd done in Potions and Transfiguration, which were.

But thinking about the O.W.L. exams brought him dangerously close to thinking about the Ministry of Magic battle and Sirius, and Harry just didn't think he could bear remembering all that right now. Firmly pushing those memories to the back of his mind, he said in a determinedly cheerful voice, "Hey, could we talk about something else instead? Something fun?"

"Something fun?" Hermione said doubtfully.

"Well, Fred and George's joke shop is really taking off," Ron told them. "They're raking in the galleons. Mum doesn't know what to think. She's proud of them, obviously, but she's kind of worried about them setting a bad example for me and Ginny, too. Especially since every time she nags us about finishing our summer homework, Ginny says that maybe she'll just drop out and go into business with the twins."

He grinned. "Ginny's just kidding, of course. But it is funny to see Mum's face. She can't tell us what a terrible mistake Fred and George made and how they'll always regret it, like she used to, because they're having the time of their lives."

"Your mum didn't want them to stay with Umbridge here, though, did she?" Harry asked. "I mean, look at what Umbridge was going to do to them."

"If Umbridge had laid a finger on any one of us, she wouldn't have had to worry about centaurs," Ron said confidently. "Mum would've hunted her down like a dog. And Mum was a Duelling Champion back when she was in school, you know. Umbridge wouldn't have stood a chance."

Harry couldn't stop himself from glancing down at the faint white scars on the back of his right hand. I must not tell lies. Ron was right. If Umbridge had dared to do anything like that to one of the Weasley children, Molly, and Arthur too, would not have rested until she had been thrown into Azkaban, at the very least.

A great pain constricted his chest. He was glad, of course, that Ron and Hermione had loving families, people who would look out for them, but why couldn't he have someone like that, too?

Sirius had wanted to be that person for him. Sirius would have definitely gone after Umbridge, if he'd known what she had done to Harry. Sirius had wanted Harry to live with him, had tried to protect him, had loved him. If only it had been possible...

Well, so much for having a fun afternoon.

Harry became aware that Ron and Hermione had fallen silent and were watching him anxiously. He looked up and forced himself to smile at them.

"You know, I'm kinda tired. I think I want to rest for a while."

"You sure?" Ron asked quietly.

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione hugged him. "It'll be all right, Harry."

No, it won't. Sirius can't come back. "Yeah."

As soon as they'd left, Snape came in, carrying a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches and another bowl of soup. "It's time for you to eat again."

Harry sighed. He still felt very uncomfortable about having to be fed, especially by Snape, but he supposed he'd better get used to it. Apparently, he wasn't going to be allowed to use his arms for several weeks still, and somehow, Snape seemed to be the only one around at mealtimes. Although, right now that was his own fault. He hadn't realized it was so close to dinner time or he would have had his friends stay a little longer.

But Snape hadn't been bad about it, actually. He hadn't made any derogatory comments about Harry being a helpless baby, or being so stupid as to let himself get kidnapped. Of course, that was simply because he didn't want to aggravate Harry's wounds though. There was no other reason for Snape to start treating him decently. He'd always made it perfectly plain how much he despised Harry.

On the other hand, maybe Snape was right to despise him. He was stupid and arrogant and dangerous and reckless and all the other things Snape had always said he was. Hadn't Harry already had to admit as much to himself? But Snape was more clever. He had seen all that in Harry from the beginning.

Suddenly Harry remembered sneaking into Snape's Pensieve the year before and he flushed scarlet. That had been more than stupid and arrogant. That had been inexcusably wrong. Harry couldn't blame Snape for hating him for that. He really should apologize.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Harry knew he had to do it. Snape would be horrible about it, and bringing up the Pensieve incident would ruin whatever fragile truce was going on, but apologizing was the right thing to do.

Gathering his courage, Harry opened his mouth, but before he could say the words, Snape almost tossed the plate and bowl onto the night table and grabbed his wand. He quickly waved it at Harry, who looked down just in time to see the crimson stains on his bandaged arms disappear.

Snape laid his wand down and frowned. "If Granger and Weasley are bothering you, perhaps they shouldn't come back."

Oh, that was rich. When he didn't want to see Ron and Hermione, Snape forced them on him, and now that he'd realized he did need his friends, the professor was threatening to keep them away.

But Snape didn't look angry exactly. More like...worried. But how could that be? Snape didn't worry about him. Snape hated him. Didn't he?

"It wasn't them," Harry said quickly. "It was just...some other stuff."

The man studied him thoughtfully, but didn't say anything as he Summoned a vial of foul-tasting Blood-Replenisher and handed it to Harry. Harry made a face, but didn't argue as he drank it.

Once Snape had taken the plate of sandwiches and settled into a chair beside the bed, Harry tried again. "Um, sir. I have to..., I mean, I should...," He took a deep breath and blurted, "It was wrong, and I know I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry."

"What are you babbling on about, Potter?" Snape stared at him, nonplussed.

Harry dropped his gaze to the quilt and picked at a loose thread. "Your Pensieve. Last year, during Occlumency lessons," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have looked in it. But I wasn't really trying to see your memories. I mean I wasn't trying to snoop into anything personal. I just thought it might be something about Voldemort and what he was up to. But it was wrong, and I'm sorry."

There was absolute silence. Trying to brace himself against Snape's rage, Harry forced himself to meet the man's eyes.

For a long moment Severus struggled with conflicting emotions. When the boy first mentioned the Pensieve, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of the old anger and humiliation. But he also couldn't help noticing the way Potter ducked his head and hunched his thin shoulders, as if he expected a blow.

That brought to mind the memories from the child's mind, and now that he'd seen the scars on Potter's back, Severus knew the abuse had been more than just a few random incidents. It had been real and ongoing, and a lot worse than what he had actually seen.

And that brought to mind another point, one that Albus had made when Severus had gone storming in to see him, to demand that Potter be severely punished and to let the headmaster know in no uncertain terms that their Occlumency lessons were ended.

At the time Severus had been too caught up in his own rage and self-pity to give Albus' words any credit. After all, the headmaster always had defended his Gryffindors, no matter what they did to Severus. But now...well, perhaps Albus had been right, in this case anyway.

When Potter finally raised his eyes, Severus felt something inside himself lurch at the abject misery and fear in them. He had to do something to ease the boy's pain.

"Very well, Potter. I accept your apology," he spoke stiffly, a little surprised at himself. His next words surprised him even more. It was one thing to acknowledge Albus' point to himself, but he had never meant to admit it aloud. "I...owe you an apology as well."

The boy gaped at him, and Severus almost stopped, but the words seemed to come out of their own accord.

"I used the Pensieve to hide my own worst memories, but I did not give you the same opportunity. Perhaps I should have."

Potter stared at him as if he had grown two heads, and suddenly Severus just couldn't bear all the tension anymore.

"Here," He shoved a sandwich at the boy, breaking their locked gaze.

Potter swallowed nervously. "Um, should we wash my arms first, like you did before?"

"It can wait until you've had dinner. Now, eat before your food is ice-cold."

Later, after Potter had eaten and Severus had cleaned his arms and was heading back to the sanctuary of the living room, the boy surprised him again by saying softly, "Thank you, sir. For everything."

***

The next afternoon when Ron and Hermione came down, they didn't come right on into the room. Instead they hung back at the door as they had on their first visit.

"You feeling better, mate?" Ron asked him.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, come on in."

"Well, before we do, the rest of my family wants to see you. Is that all right?"

Harry nodded again. "Sure."

He was a little curious about why Ron and Hermione grinned at him as they stepped aside, but he was caught unaware by the sight of a huge three-layer cake, covered with creamy scarlet and gold icing and lit by flaming candles, floating in front of a tearful Molly Weasley. Arthur Weasley, Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, Fleur, and Dumbledore came in behind her, all of them beaming and carrying gaily-wrapped presents.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" It was a great general chorus.

"But...I missed my birthday," Harry stammered in amazement. "It's the middle of August."

"Better late than never." George shrugged.

"Yeah, Harry. Haven't you learned anything from us? It's never too late to party." Fred clapped him on the shoulder.

For one wonderful, frightening moment, Harry thought he was going to embarrass them all by crying. He'd never had a real birthday party before, or people who wanted to celebrate the fact that he was alive, and it was almost overwhelming.

But then Mrs. Weasley was setting the cake carefully in front of him, and everyone was trying to find a place to set their presents, and telling him to make a wish and blow out the candles. In the happy confusion, Harry found that the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes disappeared.

"Hagrid could not be here, unfortunately, as he had to go away on business. But he does want you to go see him as soon as he returns, Harry. He said he would fix up a special birthday tea for you." Dumbldore's eyes twinkled at him, and Harry smiled back. Even the prospect of eating Hagrid's cakes couldn't dim his spirits today.

"Hmm, doesn't that sound yummy?" Ron muttered and Harry actually found himself laughing.

It was while Mrs. Weasley was cutting the cake and Mr. Weasley was conjuring cups of sparkling cider for everyone that Harry looked over at the door leading to Snape's office and saw the familiar black-robed figure watching them. His face was inscrutable, but Harry thought he saw a flicker of emotion in Snape's eyes as he stared at the group bustling about, laughing and talking, and no one noticing the Potions professor.

No one except Harry. Because seeing Snape standing forgotten on the edge of the crowd reminded Harry of all the times he'd been the one left out. How many times had he watched Dudley's birthday parties from the fringes? How many times had he seen his cousin wolf down cake and ice cream and rip into presents, and know that no one cared a whit for him?

When Snape turned and started back into his laboratory, Harry all at once couldn't stand it. It was hard to believe, but Harry was sure it had been a look of hurt in Snape's eyes.

"Sir?" He called. "Professor Snape? Would you come and have some cake, too?"

"Potter, I do not care for---" Snape's tone was so angry that Harry could almost think he'd been mistaken, but then again, the professor wasn't likely to admit to feeling lonely or left out, was he? No, he would die first, Harry knew. But just because he didn't admit it, that didn't mean that he didn't feel things. Harry knew that, too, firsthand.

And he knew that once he'd mentioned Snape's name, the man wouldn't have any choice.

"Severus, of course you must join the party," Dumbledore insisted. "You've done more than anyone to save Harry."

And before Snape could protest any further, Mrs. Weasley had pressed a paper plate holding an enormous slice of cake into his hand and was ushering him into the room.

It was the best afternoon Harry had had in a long time. There was plenty of cake, and chocolate ice cream, and cider. There were almost enough presents to rival Dudley's annual haul. And best of all, there was a roomful of people who cared about him.

Maybe even Snape, a little bit.

"Harry?"

It was Sirius' voice calling him, a note of desperate pleading in it. Harry ran through white mist, searching frantically. He had to find Sirius before it was too late.

"Harry?"

But the mist was so thick. He couldn't see anything. He thrust his arms out and spun around, trying to feel if Sirius were near. Sirius' voice sounded close by, but Harry could never quite reach him.

"Sirius! Where are you?" Harry felt panic rising in his throat, almost suffocating him. There wasn't much time! Where was Sirius?

And then Harry saw a figure ahead, and ran towards it. His relief was so great, his knees shook and his legs could hardly carry him. But it was all right. He had found Sirius!

But just as Harry reached him, the figure turned and Harry's joy turned to icy terror.

"Harry, so good to see you again." Voldemort's voice was soft and silky, yet filled with malevolence. His red eyes blazed in his pale snakelike face and before Harry could even take a step backwards, he'd raised his wand and Harry was lying at his feet.

Other figures stepped out of the mist then. Death Eaters with their masks and hoods, their wands pointing at him, screaming and laughing at Harry's pain...

Then suddenly Harry was alone, lying on the cold ground. The mist had lifted, but it was so dark that he still couldn't see. At first the only sound was his own ragged breathing, but then he heard his name again.

"Harry?" This time it was a hissing whisper.

Harry was afraid to look, afraid it was Voldemort again, but somehow he had to turn his head to the voice. And in spite of the darkness, he could see Sirius sitting beside him.

But Sirius was glaring at him.

"Why did you do this to me, Harry? I loved you, and you killed me. It's all your fault, Harry!"

"Wake up, Harry. It's only a dream." A gentle voice pulled him out of the nightmare. "It's only a dream."

Harry realized he was sobbing, but he couldn't stop himself at this point. It had all been so real. Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Sirius.... That had been the worst part, Sirius hating him. Harry didn't think that he could stand that.

"Hush, child. You're safe here." It was Snape. The room was dimly lit, and Harry could see Snape sitting beside him on the bed, wearing a dark green robe over his pajamas, and speaking in such a soft tone that Harry never would have recognized his voice if he hadn't seen him.

But Harry was crying too hard to stop. Not from fear, although the Voldemort part of the nightmare had been horrible. But Sirius was gone, gone forever, and it was all Harry's fault.

He turned his face to the pillow and wished Snape would go away and let him cry in peace. But then the Potions professor did something Harry never would have expected. Snape reached over and began rubbing circles on Harry's back, lightly, comfortingly.

"Shh, it's all right now, child. It's all right."

Harry didn't see how things could ever be all right again, but somehow it helped a little to have someone patting his back and talking in that quiet, gentle voice. It seemed as if he cried for hours, but finally he ran out of tears and just lay there, not quite daring to raise his head from the pillow because he had no idea what he was going to say to Snape.

The professor gave his shoulder a light squeeze and said in the same soothing tone. "Sit up, Harry. We need to check your arms."

Reluctantly Harry rolled over and sat up. To his surprise, the bandages on his arms were still white.

"I can't believe they aren't bleeding," he said shakily.

"They did earlier," Snape told him. "I had already healed them before you woke up." He paused. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head and had to drop his eyes from Snape's clear gaze. "No, thank you." He took another shaky breath. "I'm sorry I woke you up, sir."

Snape waved his hand dismissively, as if Harry waking him in the middle of the night was no great matter. Even with his head lowered, Harry could feel Snape's dark eyes studying him. "You seemed more upset than usual."

Than usual? So he'd woken Snape before with his nightmares? Harry suddenly remembered that faint memory of a soft voice telling him he was safe and of a hand carding through his hair. So that had been Snape after all. Wow.

"It...seemed very real," he whispered. He knew it was late, but the idea of trying to go back to sleep, in the dark, was just horrible. What if he found himself back in the same nightmare? He shuddered.

Snape cleared his throat. "Perhaps you would like a drink of water?"

Harry nodded gratefully.

Snape reached for his wand, then paused and studied Harry again with that same thoughtful look. "If you move carefully, I think you might be well enough to get up for a while. Would you like to go into the living room?"

"Yes, please." It would good to get out of this room for a time. It might not make sense, but Harry felt it would help him to get away from the nightmare.

Snape stood and waited as Harry carefully climbed out of bed. The air was cool and Harry shivered.

"Wait a minute." Snape took his wand again and an instant later, Harry wore a green robe like the professor's over his pajamas and there were warm slippers on his feet.

"Um, thank you, sir. Thanks a lot."

Snape inclined his head and motioned for Harry to follow him. In spite of still feeling shaken by his dream, Harry looked about curiously as they left the bedroom and went into the adjoining living area.

It, too, was a large room, done in taupe, beige, and brown. Several tables, armchairs, and a comfortable-looking sofa were scattered around, and a beige, brown, and dark green rug covered the floor. A wide fireplace with a high stone mantel took up much of one wall, and on another an arched doorway presumably led to the corridor beyond. An alcove on the far side of the room held a small dining table and a couple of chairs.

They sat on the sofa and the Potions professor conjured a glass of water for Harry. He took it gratefully and then glanced at Snape.

"Don't you want anything, sir?" He half expected the professor to sneer back at him, something like, "Wouldn't I have gotten myself something if I'd wanted it, Potter?" After all, he wasn't used to Snape being so nice, not to him anyway.

But Snape just shook his head and said calmly, "No, I've had quite enough today---breakfast, lunch, dinner," He shot a wry look at Harry. "Cake, ice cream."

Harry smiled a little and sipped his water.

There was a pause; then Snape spoke again, sounding a little awkward. "I have observed you and Mr. Weasley playing wizard's chess before. Do you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, I mean, yes, sir. Not as much as Ron, but I like it all right."

Snape motioned to a set of small chess figures resting on a table in the corner. "Would you care to begin a game?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to move my arms?"

"You don't have to. You can simply tell the pieces where to go."

"Um, sure, then. I'd like to play." Harry peeked at Snape as the man Summoned the chess set and set it up between them. Was this really Severus Snape, the same Potions professor who had hated him on sight and had lived to make Harry miserable, at least until a couple weeks ago?

"I'll be black. You can make the first move." Snape motioned to him and Harry pushed all other thoughts away and gave the chessboard his full attention.

He concentrated so hard on the match that he was surprised when the clock on the mantel chimed and they glanced up to see that an hour had passed.

Snape set the chessboard back on its table. "Ah, it's quite late. We better try to sleep again. I'll leave the board as it is and perhaps we could finish tomorrow, if you like."

Harry nodded and moving carefully and slowly, he followed Snape back to the bedroom. He climbed back into the bed and Snape went to his cot.

"You should learn to think through your strategy, Harry." Snape dimmed the lights. "You're not a bad player, but you must learn to think several moves ahead."

Harry yawned. "That's what Ron says, too. He's better than me, but I beat him every once in a while. Not often, but just enough to keep him on his toes."

"Good night, then."

"Good night, sir." And Harry was asleep before he remembered that he was afraid of having more nightmares.

In the darkness, Severus waited until he heard the boy breathing deeply and evenly before closing his own eyes and allowing himself to drift off.

They slept late in the morning, but it was of no great consequence. Their visitors did not usually come until after lunch, and Severus' potions were past the point of needing constant attention.

He woke first, dressed, and ordered breakfast from the kitchens. Harry was still sleeping when their plates arrived so Severus cast a Warming Spell on his plate and set it on the night table. Then he paused and took his own food over to the armchair in the corner to eat, instead of going to his dining table. He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so protective of the boy, but he wanted to keep watch over him.

That had certainly been a horrible nightmare Harry had had last night. Severus didn't know what Harry had dreamed, but something had made it worse than the others. Every night since he'd come back to consciousness, the boy had cried or moaned in his sleep, but he usually calmed down within a few minutes of Severus reassuring him and he hadn't completely woken up before either.

Last night Harry had been distraught and his heartbroken sobs still haunted Severus. The only other time Severus remembered seeing Harry so upset had been right after the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, when Cedric Diggory had died and Voldemort had returned. Even then, Harry had not sobbed openly.

He wished Harry had told him what the nightmare had been about, but he supposed after their tumultuous history, it was too much to expect the boy to confide in him. He sighed and shook his head. When exactly had things changed so much? When had he started caring about being Potter's confidante?

Just then Harry rolled over and opened his eyes. It struck Severus again that the boy didn't look as much like his father without his glasses on, or maybe he'd just begun to see the real Harry inside. He remembered something Albus had told him long ago, that Harry was really much more like his mother, if Severus would only look past the outward appearance.

At the time Severus had dismissed Albus' words, not wanting to hear anything that would shake his opinion of the boy. But now...well, now he had to admit that he had been wrong. More, that he wanted a chance to get to know the real Harry, to see how he resembled Lily as well as James, and how he was unique from both of them, special in his own right.

If it wasn't too late. Severus had ruined his friendship with Lily. He could only hope he hadn't already ruined his chances with her son.

He certainly couldn't blame Harry for hating him. Severus had spent five long years making the boy into an enemy. It would take an extraordinary person to forgive him for all the cruel jeers and undeserved insults.

But the past few days, things had been different. They had carried on civil conversations, apologized to each other, and Harry had even been sure to include Severus in his party. Maybe there was a chance that their relationship could salvaged. Maybe they could be friends....

Except that he didn't even know how to be a friend. It was pathetic, really. Here he was, thirty-six years old, and he had no idea how to establish a positive, caring relationship with anyone. Somehow, he'd never managed to learn. The few times he'd tried to make friends, it had always ended in failure. He'd had Lily for a while, but then he had destroyed that, too.

What was he thinking? Harry would be better off without him. Everyone was.

But then Harry smiled at him, and Severus felt that something in his chest lurch again.

"Good morning, sir." Harry's voice was a little scratchy, and Severus set his own plate aside, came over and handed Harry his tumbler of juice from the night table.

"Good morning," he said while the boy drank.

After a few sips, Severus set the cup down and reached for Harry's plate, but before he could begin feeding the boy, Harry said, "Thank you, sir, for...being there for me last night."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Harry wanted to tell him more, how much it had meant that Snape had comforted him, and let him get up, and distracted him with the chess game. How much it had helped Harry to put the nightmare behind him and feel a little better. But everything he could think of to say just sounded ridiculous.

He was struggling to find the right words when something else occurred to him and he suddenly stared. "You've been calling me ‘Harry'."

"So I have." Something in Snape's black eyes softened and Harry thought that perhaps Snape did understand what Harry wanted to tell him. He smiled again and the professor stirred the bowl of porridge and scooped up a spoonful.

"Eat your breakfast, Harry, and perhaps we can finish that chess game."

When he'd first learned that he would have to spend the remaining weeks of summer in Snape's quarters, Harry had imagined the time stretching out into eternity; an endless succession of dreary days, punctuated by Snape's infuriating jeers and insults.

Instead, the last fortnight before school began flew by as if the days had wings. And it was not entirely unpleasant. He still grieved for Sirius; he still suffered from nightmares whenever he slept, and if he let himself remember Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he still a felt a clammy terror that caused him to break out in a cold sweat.

But Ron and Hermione, and sometimes Ginny, came every afternoon to see him. They finished their summer assignments, played games, and talked for hours, mostly about inconsequential matters as the others were respecting Harry's wishes not to discuss recent upsetting events.

The most popular topic of conversation was who would make up the new Gryffindor Quidditch team, now that several of the old members had completed their education.

"You'll be Seeker, I'm sure, Harry," Ginny remarked one afternoon. "And Ron will make Keeper again." She shot her brother a mischievous grin. "Probably. Unless I decide to go out for it."

Ron apparently decided the mature response to Ginny was to ignore her teasing, although Harry couldn't help but think that it might just be because he couldn't think up a good enough comeback. But about playing Seeker again...

"You know, I'm not sure I'm going to play Quidditch again this year," Harry told them. "So you try out for Seeker if you want, Ginny. You'd be a great one."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all stared at him with disbelieving faces. It would have been comical if Harry had felt like laughing.

Ginny recovered first. "But, Harry, you're much better than I am."

"Not play Quidditch?" Ron demanded. "Harry, I think you've been taking too many potions lately. You're not thinking clearly."

"Leave him alone, Ron," Hermione said firmly. "If Harry doesn't want to play, that's his business."

"But you love Quidditch, Harry," Ron was studying him intently. "At least you used to. I just thought that Quidditch might be something that...well, that might cheer you up a bit, after everything that's happened."

"Maybe that's the problem. After everything that's happened, Quidditch just doesn't seem very important anymore." Harry shrugged morosely. "I probably won't even be well enough by tryouts anyway. Snape told me last night that I'll definitely have to miss the first few weeks of classes."

"Oh, no." Hermione looked more concerned about that news than Harry not wanting to play Quidditch. "Harry, that's terrible. You must be really upset."

Ron snorted and hastily changed it into a cough when Hermione turned to glare at him. "Yeah, Harry, that's devastating news. I'll think of you lounging in bed while I'm slaving away at Transfiguration next week."

"Well, I'm not going to be doing too much lounging," Harry remarked. "Snape said he'd charm all my books and quills to respond to voice commands so I can study on my own down here."

"We'll come down and see you after classes, too," Hermione assured him. "And I'll bring my notes for you to read, so you shouldn't have any trouble keeping up." She sighed. "We still don't know which classes we're going to be eligible to take yet, though. And we need to get our things from Diagon Alley this week."

"It's safe enough for you all to go there?" Harry asked.

"A bunch of Aurors are going to go with us," Ginny explained.

"I wish I could go." Harry tried not to sound self-pitying, but it was hard. "I won't be able to go on Hogsmeade weekends, either, I bet."

"If you can't, then we'll stay here with you." Ron promised, and Hermione nodded. Harry felt deeply touched. Hogsmeade weekends were a big treat and all the students looked forward to them. He really did have the best friends anyone could hope for.

"Thanks," Harry told them, knowing that it was woefully inadequate to express his feelings for them, but also knowing that they understood. To change the subject, he said, "I wonder who Dumbledore's found to be the Defense professor this year?"

"No idea," Ginny said. "But whoever it is, they'd have to be a huge improvement on Umbridge."

"I wish Remus could do it again," Harry murmured. "He was by far the best Defense teacher we've had. And I haven't seen him in forever."

"Remus is on some kind of mission for the Order," Ron told them. "Mum and Dad were asking about him when Dumbledore first came back and Dumbledore said Remus had started a very important mission, and would be unavailable for a long time."

"Guess he's not going to be Defense teacher then." Harry tried not to feel disappointed. He'd known all along that Remus wasn't likely to be at Hogwarts again so there was no reason to feel let down. It was just that he hadn't seen him in so long.

Why was it that every time he let himself depend, even a little bit, on an adult, they ended up leaving him?

But he was not going to feel sorry for himself. There was a war going on, and if Remus could do something that might save innocent people or help to defeat Voldemort, then that was much more important than sitting around holding Harry's hand. He couldn't help but feel that fleeting longing for someone of his own, but it just wasn't meant to be for him, and he had to accept it and be grateful for what he did have.

Looking back up at the others, he realized that Hermione and Ron were fretting about their O.W.L.S. again. Or rather, that Hermione was fretting and Ron was reassuring her that she'd done fine on them.

As if on cue, Snape appeared in the doorway, holding three large square envelopes. "The headmaster asked me to deliver these to you three," he said dryly. "Apparently, he mistook me for an owl." He tossed the envelopes onto the bed, and headed off to his office, though Harry noticed he did not close the door.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione gasped, her eyes as big as saucers as she stared at the envelopes. She reached for the envelope with her name on it, but her hands were shaking so that she couldn't open it.

"Here, let me," Ginny offered, taking the envelope and slitting it open, then handing it back to Hermione.

"Well, might as well find out the worst, huh, Harry?" Ron opened Harry's envelope and handed the folded parchment inside to him before taking his own.

Harry carefully unfolded the parchment and stared at his results: He'd failed History of Magic, no surprise there given that he'd collapsed in the middle of the exam, but he'd done well in his other subjects. He'd gotten an ‘Acceptable' in Astronomy, and ‘Exceeds Expectations' or ‘Outstanding' in everything else. He'd even managed to get ‘Outstanding' in Potions. How in the world had he managed that?

He stared in dumbfounded amazement at the parchment for a time. He could still be an Auror, if he wanted. He had the required grades to pursue his N.E.W.T.S. Something akin to happiness washed over him, and he breathed a sigh of relief, before realizing that he didn't know how Ron and Hermione had done.

Hermione was hidden behind her raised parchment, but Ron had a look of astonished delight on his face.

"Didn't do so well in History of Magic, but look at everything else!" He waved his results before Harry's eyes so quickly that Harry could only glimpse a list of E's and O's.

"Even in Potions! Guess our plans are still on, huh?" Ron looked over at the open door to Snape's office, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Do you reckon Dumbledore had anything to do with us getting O's in Potions?"

Harry shook his head in amusement. "How do you know I got an O in Potions?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, I figured if I managed it, then you did for sure. You did, didn't you?"

Harry nodded and added back in a low voice, "And I don't think Dumbledore had anything to do with it. Remember we all thought the Potions exam wasn't nearly as bad as some of Snape's assignments. I think a lot of people did better than they expected to." He looked over at his other best friend. "Hermione? How about you?"

Hermione looked up, her face flushed with joy. "What, Harry? Oh, how did you and Ron do?"

"We did fine," Ron was grinning happily. "No need to ask you, we can tell by your face. You got all O's, didn't you?"

Hermione's expression changed to one of faint embarrassment. "Well, yes, actually."

Ron patted her shoulder. "That's great, Hermione, really great. You worked hard for those results."

Hermione smiled at him, and Harry raised his eyebrows at watching the two of them.

"Congratulations, all of you," Ginny said. "Wish I had mine over with."

"I can't wait to show Mum and Dad," Ron stood up. "If you're all right, Harry, I guess I'll go and find them. They've been wanting to see my results, too, and now we can plan a trip to Diagon Alley."

"Make us a list, Harry, and we'll get your things, too." Hermione left, practically floating out of the room, she was still so transparently happy. Ginny waved and followed her.

Ron hesitated at the door. "Harry, about Quidditch...Katie Bell is the captain this year, and you know she'd hold off tryouts until you're well, if you wanted to play. You should think about it. Sirius wouldn't want you to give up something you really enjoy." He was gone before Harry could reply.

***

Snape himself was the other reason that staying in his quarters wasn't so bad. Harry would have never believed it possible, but he and Snape were actually getting along. The Potions professor disappeared whenever the other kids were around, but in the mornings and evenings, he'd started spending time with Harry.

They mostly played chess, or read in silence. Their conversations were sometimes a bit awkward and stilted, as if they both wanted to be on friendlier terms, but weren't entirely sure how to go about it. Still, Harry often found himself smiling at Snape's dry humor, which could be quite amusing if it wasn't directed against him, and appreciating the time they spent together.

Snape allowed Harry to get up now for brief times, and they had begun eating meals at the dining table. The same evening that he'd gotten his O.W.L. results, as they finished their grilled chicken and vegetables, Snape looked over at Harry with a slight smirk.

"Did my ears deceive me, or am I correct that I shall have the pleasure of your company in my N.E.W.T. class this year?"

"I thought you were listening," Harry murmured. He studied Snape, trying to see a clue about the man's feelings. Snape didn't seem displeased at the news that Harry and his friends would be taking Potions. He had been friendlier than Harry could have ever imagined the past few days, and he even comforted him when Harry cried in the night. But memories of the past five years were hard to shake off, too. Harry just didn't know exactly how Snape felt about him anymore.

For that matter, he didn't know exactly how he felt about Snape, either.

He didn't hate the professor now. He knew that. He actually enjoyed Snape's company, surreal as that seemed. Snape was clever and funny and even sympathetic when Harry was upset. Occasionally, there were moments such as at Harry's birthday party, when he realized that he and Snape might not be so very different after all, and he would think that maybe they could be friends.

But then, he would remember some particularly cruel jeer Snape had made at him, and he would see Snape's face in his mind, cold and sneering, and the old hurt and anger would well up. Even worse, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe all this ‘niceness' was just because Harry was ill, and it was in Snape's interests to help him get better. What would happen once Harry was well again? What would Snape be like in Potions class this year?

Because if Snape turned back into his old self, taunting Harry at every turn...well, it would hurt. It would hurt a lot more than it ever had before, because before Harry had always known that Snape hated him. He'd known what to expect. But now,...now he'd begun to hope for more, whether it was wise or not. Harry kept trying to remind himself that he needed to keep some emotional distance between them, but another part of his heart longed for Snape's friendship.

"Harry?" Snape prompted him.

Harry took a breath and said tentatively. "Um, yeah, I mean, yes sir. I got an ‘O' in Potions."

"Congratulations," Snape said easily. "You are quite intelligent when you choose to apply yourself. I must admit, I was surprised to hear Mr. Weasley's score, but perhaps he just needs proper motivation."

"Perhaps we both do better with someone who isn't trying to make us fail," Harry responded, then stopped, horrified at himself. He hadn't meant to say that aloud, and he tensed, sure that he had ruined everything. Snape would fly into a towering rage now and go back to hating him. But maybe it was better to lose Snape now, before Harry could care more.

Sure enough, anger flashed in Snape's eyes. But when he spoke, he just said, "Relax, Potter. I am not going to hit you, even if you are being frightfully rude and disrespectful."

So it was back to ‘Potter' again.

Harry bowed his head and swallowed hard. He'd known this was coming. So why did it still hurt so much?

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll go back to bed and leave you alone."

"Potter, did I ask you to leave?"

"No, but you're calling me ‘Potter' again, instead of ‘Harry'."

Snape sighed. "That means a lot to you, doesn't it? Very well, Harry. There's no reason for you to go running off. Do you run away every time you and Weasley and Granger exchange a cross word?"

"Well , no," Harry risked looking back up at him again. "But that's different. I know---" He stopped abruptly.

"You know what?" Snape pressed.

But Harry wasn't going to finish that sentence. "I'm sorry I was rude, sir. You've been really nice to me lately, really great. And I do appreciate it."

There was a long silence. Then Snape said, in such a low voice that Harry could hardly hear him. "Perhaps you're right."

Harry blinked at him. "About what, sir?"

Snape heaved a weary sigh. "Obviously, you and Weasley did perform better for the O.W.L. examiner than you ever have in class. Students usually do, which I have always attributed to the fact that I teach according to extremely high standards. The assignments we do in class are more difficult than anything you will encounter on a general exam. Any student who completes a N.E.W.T. course under me should have no trouble being accepted into a higher Potions Mastery course after Hogwarts, if they so desire."

He was quite a moment before admitting, "But perhaps you have a point as well. I was never trained to teach, Harry. Being a professor was not my life's goal. It has become a necessity, but I admit I do not always relate well to children."

Not always? Harry couldn't help but think. How about ‘never'!

But Snape was going on. "I suppose I have fallen back on the way I was treated as a child, that if a person is treated as a failure it will build strength and fuel a desire to succeed."

Another long silence followed the professor's words. Harry had been looking down at his own clasped hands as Snape spoke, but he looked up into his face when he realized that Snape had trusted him with confidential information about himself; that he, too, had been treated harshly as a child.

They stared into one another's eyes for a minute, each acknowledging a similar pain in the other, before both of them dropped their gazes.

"Perhaps it is not the best way to teach," Snape conceded softly.

"My aunt and uncle have always been mean to me, too," Harry said suddenly. He had never, never meant to admit this to Snape, but the words just came out on their own. "They never wanted me. I'm just a burden to them."

He felt Snape's hand on his shoulder, and the professor said gently, "I was wrong about you, Harry. I wish I had gotten to know you sooner."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, me, too," he whispered.

Snape carefully placed an arm around Harry's shoulders, and Harry let himself lean ever so slightly against him.

"If you would like to come to dinner in the Great Hall tonight, I think it would be all right," Snape remarked late one afternoon. Ron and Hermione had not come that day as the Weasleys had finally been able to go to Diagon Alley, accompanied by several Ministry Aurors, so the Potions professor and Harry had spent the better part of the day matching wits in a chess tournament. Snape had won, as usual, but Harry had played well and was feeling encouraged.

It was the last day of August. Tomorrow evening students would arrive and the new school year would officially commence. Most of the professors had already returned to the castle though, and an informal feast was planned for them, and the Weasley family who were still at Hogwarts, too.

At Snape's words, Harry bit his lip, feeling torn. It would be fun to go up to the Hall and see everyone. Although he didn't really mind staying in Snape's rooms, he had been confined to them for a month and it would be wonderful just to get out for a while.

But he still had to be fed, and Harry didn't think he could stand having a crowd see that. It was all very well for Dumbledore to talk about how accepting help was a part of maturity. He was even right, Harry knew. But Dumbledore wasn't the one who had to put up with being spoon fed, either.

"I don't know, sir," he said slowly. "I would like to. I really would, but...."

"I could make you a nutritive potion to drink," Snape offered. "The taste is actually rather pleasant, as far as potions go. You wouldn't be able to eat the food at the feast, unfortunately, but you could go up to the Hall and see people, if you wish."

"Yes, please. That'd be great." Harry hesitated. "If it's not too much trouble."

"It's no trouble." Snape stood and headed to his office. "Why don't you look through your trunk and find something besides pajamas to wear while I fix this up?"

Harry went back to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Snape had charmed pretty much everything to respond to his voice, so he just murmered an incantation and his trunk in the corner of the room opened and a pile of clothes flew over to land beside him. He was trying to decide between a dark blue shirt and gray trousers or a green shirt and khaki trousers when the professor joined him.

"What in the name of all that is magical are those?" Snape demanded.

Startled, Harry looked up to see him staring at several positively enormous, and quite dirty, old shirts and torn blue jeans.

With an expression of supreme distaste, Snape held one of the shirts aloft between his thumb and forefinger. "This could not possibly fit you, Harry. So why have you been trying to clothe a baby elephant?"

Harry snickered. "Those are my cousin Dudley's old things. And I've always thought he was more the size of a baby killer whale."

"Hmm." Snape let the shirt fall back on the bed. "So why do you have your cousin's rags in your trunk?"

"Oh," Harry shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Well, that's what I wear in the summer, when I'm with the Dursleys."

"Why?" And then a look of understanding passed over Snape's face. "Oh. Is this an example of them ‘being mean' to you? To not provide you with proper clothes?"

"Yeah." Harry looked down again, not sure why he was suddenly embarrassed. He'd already admitted what the Dursleys were like to Snape.

"Why are they so dirty?"

Harry shrugged again. "Well, I washed them, but they are work clothes and a lot of the stains just haven't come out."

"And what kind of work did you do?"

Harry considered not answering, but Snape's voice was soft and gentle, and Harry was certain that he would not use any of this information against him. He didn't know exactly when he'd come to realize that, but somehow, he knew Snape would never taunt him about the Dursleys. Maybe about other things, but not the Dursleys.

"I don't know. Everything. I did all the yard work and house work and cooking and cleaning. All that stuff."

"And what were your relatives doing while you were slaving for them?" There was an undercurrent of anger in Snape's voice now.

"Uncle Vernon was at his job most of the day, thank goodness, and Aunt Petunia was busy with her clubs and shopping. Dudley watched the telly when he wasn't out bullying little kids or making me miserable."

Deciding that he'd said all he wanted to say about the Dursleys for now, Harry added. "And don't ask me what he did to make me miserable. There isn't enough time in a year to go into that, and I don't want to talk about it anymore, anyway. Please, sir."

With a contemptuous flick of his wand, Snape Vanished all of Dudley's hand-me-downs, leaving Harry agape.

"Hey! Sir!" He exclaimed, half angry and half wanting to laugh.

"Don't tell me that you're attached to those pathetic garments," Snape huffed.

"I'll need them for next summer!"

"No, you won't." Snape's voice was almost dangerous again.

Harry blinked at him, suddenly realizing that Snape was being...protective of him. He felt a glowing warmth deep in his heart, and had to swallow before saying huskily, "Yeah, I will. I have to live there, at least until I'm seventeen. There's blood wards cause of my mum and aunt being sisters, so Voldemort can't reach me there. Dumbledore explained it all to me."

Snape sank onto the bed beside him and laid his arm around Harry's shoulders. He'd done that several times lately. The warm feeling spread throughout Harry's chest.

"We will discuss it in more detail later," the professor said firmly. "But I'm quite certain that something can be done to protect you from your relatives as well. And it will be."

He turned to examine the remaining pile of clothes. "These are all nice enough."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I bought those for myself. Do you like the blue shirt or the green one better?"

A short while later Harry was dressed in the green shirt and khaki trousers (Snape, of course, liked the green shirt better. But what could you expect from a Slytherin, Harry figured), and went back out to the living room to find Snape waiting for him, a bottle filled with amber liquid in his hand.

"Are you ready? We'll Floo up so you don't have to walk very far. Say, ‘Right chamber off the Great Hall." The professor took some powder from a small vase on the high mantel and motioned Harry to come forward. Harry took the powder and threw it down as he stepped into the fireplace and called out the directions. There was a whoosh of emerald flame, and an instant later, he was stumbling out into a small bare room with only the fireplace, a couple of lit torches fastened to the wall and a narrow closed doorway.

The room was barren, but Harry still felt a thrill of excitement at being out of the dungeons at long last. He steadied himself and looked about, but before he had time to notice much, there was another blaze and Snape was there.

"Let's see your arms, Harry."

Harry obediently held them out, and Snape carefully rolled the sleeves back to make sure that the bandages on Harry's arms were still pristine.

"Very well, then. Here you are." The professor gave Harry his potion and stepped towards the door, adding, "I presume you'll sit with your friends, but if your arms should begin to bleed, tell me at once."

"I will."

Then they were through the door and in the Great Hall, bright with hovering candles and the setting sun which could be seen both from the windows and from the enchanted ceiling overhead. Instead of the four long House tables, though, there were two smaller tables set up in the middle and a group of approximately thirty people were milling about around them, the Hogwarts' staff, except for Hagrid, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Mr. Potter!"

It was Professor McGonagall hurrying towards them. Like Snape, she wore dark robes, but she had a tartan shawl draped over her shoulders and fastened with a ruby brooch. She was smiling, and Harry was surprised to see tears in her eyes. He was even more surprised when she embraced him. Should he hug her back? He thought he probably should, and he didn't really mind---McGonagall was all right, but it was so awkward.

Before he could decide, she stood back and surveyed him critically. "It's wonderful to see you looking so well again, Mr. Potter. We were all quite worried about you this summer."

Harry mumbled his thanks, but she had already turned to Snape and embraced him, too. Harry wondered if he'd looked as stunned and uncomfortable as Snape did.

"We can never thank you enough, Severus."

Snape muttered something unintelligible and looked as if he were trying to decide whether he should bolt from the Hall or hex her. Fortunately, McGonagall quickly returned her old brisk, businesslike self though. "I'm sorry you won't be able to attend classes for a few weeks still, Mr. Potter, but I know that you will work hard on your own, and keep up. Sixth year can be a challenge, so you don't want to fall behind."

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded and as Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley crowd came over, she and Snape walked slowly off, discussing class schedules.

"Harry! I'm so glad you're here," Hermione beamed. "Ron and I were about to head down to see if Professor Snape would let you come up for dinner, but we didn't really think he would."

"Thank goodness he did," Harry told them. "It's been all right staying down there, but I was starting to go a little stir crazy. Did you get everything at Diagon Alley?"

But before Ron or Hermione could answer, they were interrupted by Madame Pomfrey who came hurrying over to check on Harry herself. She was full of self-reproaches for being unavailable earlier, but she did admit that Snape had done an excellent job of caring for Harry.

The next half hour was like that. Everyone seemed to have heard about Harry's ordeal and wanted to come over and see for themselves that he was recovering and wish him well. They were seated at the tables, and everyone but Harry was dining on roast chicken, scalloped potatoes, and vegetables before Ron and Hermione had a chance to tell Harry about their day.

"It was sad," Hermione said softly. "And a bit scary, too. Everywhere you looked, the Ministry's got safety bulletins and wanted posters, or notices about missing people. About half the shops were closed up, too. We had a hard time finding everything on our lists."

"And Florian Fortescue's gone missing," Ron put in.

"But why?" Harry demanded. "All he did was sell ice cream."

Ron shrugged and shook his head. "Doesn't take much to get on You-Know-Who's bad side, does it?"

"Maybe he decided to go off on his own," Hermione tried to sound hopeful. "You know, for a holiday."

"Or to get out before they could come for him," Ron said darkly.

"I hope so." Harry sipped his drink and had to admit that it did taste pretty good for a potion, light and fruity, almost like pumpkin juice. He motioned towards a short, rotund man, bald but with a great silvery mustache who was sitting beside Dumbledore at the other table. Harry didn't recognize him, and assumed he would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. "Who's that? Our new Defense professor?"

"His name's Slughorn. Horace Slughorn. Dumbledore introduced us to him just before you and Snape came in, but he didn't say what he would teach," Ron shrugged. "Has to be Defense, though, doesn't it?"

All too soon the meal was over and then Dumbledore stood and said a few words welcoming the staff back and hoping they'd all had a pleasant summer. Harry noticed that McGonagall wiped her eyes with a handkerchief at that, and that Dumbledore paused to give her a sympathetic look.

"What's up with McGonagall? Why's she gone so soft?" He whispered.

Ron and Hermione both looked solemn. Ron whispered back, "Her niece was killed by Death Eaters a few weeks ago. Just before you were kidnapped, in fact."

"Oh." Harry felt a wave of sympathy for her. No wonder McGonagall wasn't quite herself. He wondered if her niece's death had been a sort of punishment for McGonagall's supporting Dumbledore, or if it had just been more of the random violence that the Death Eaters specialized in.

He was beginning to feel depressed. The war seemed so real again. But when chocolate pie was served for dessert, the conversation took a more light-hearted turn. Ginny scooted her chair over to them and the four teenagers were soon absorbed in a discussion about their other friends, and which classes everyone was going to take, and who was dating whom now, and whether the Dumbldore's Army group should try to meet again.

"I wish I could come to the Opening Feast at least, and just see everyone," Harry sighed.

"Well, maybe Snape will let some more people come down and visit," Ron suggested.

"Maybe. You know, he's been a lot different lately. He's actually been really good to me." Harry told them.

Hermione agreed. "Yeah, we noticed that he seemed a bit nicer."

"Hope it lasts," Ron muttered, glancing around to be sure Snape was out of earshot.

"Yeah," Harry swallowed and wished that Ron had not voiced his own fear---that Snape would return to being vengeful and petty once school had started and they were all his students again. He didn't think Snape would be like that, or at least, not as bad as before. But he wasn't completely sure. Snape hadn't said much about his former treatment of Harry, and Harry just couldn't bring himself to outright ask. Besides, it would sound stupid and pitiful to say, "You're not going to hate me again, are you, after I've started to trust you and like you?" Wouldn't it?

To change the subject, he turned to Ron. "What about your parents? Are they going to stay at Hogwarts still?"

Ron and Ginny exchanged worried glances. "No," Ron said slowly. "They're going back home tomorrow. Dumbledore's strengthened the wards and as long as they stay inside or close to the house, they should have plenty of time to Apparate away if they need to."

"I'm sure they'll be all right," Harry tried to reassure them. "They're probably not in any danger at all, now that I'm gone."

He wasn't sure if he believed that. He knew the Death Eaters despised the Weasleys for being ‘blood traitors,' but they were probably in less danger now that he wasn't staying with them anymore, and he wanted to make Ron and Ginny feel better. After all, surely Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't return to the Burrow if they thought they were truly threatened there.

"Yeah," Ron tried to smile and he reached over to squeeze Ginny's hand. Her fingers tightened around his and she nodded.

The little party broke up soon afterwards. Professors Sprout and Flitwick came over to tell Harry that they hoped he'd be back in class soon. Then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came over to hug Harry good-bye, and Ron, Ginny, and Hermione went off with them.

Dumbledore wished everyone a good night, and started to leave. Harry thought he looked uncharacteristically weary and noticed that Snape went to speak to him before he left. It appeared that Snape asked him a question because Dumbledore shook his head. Then the headmaster saw Harry watching and gave him a wink and a wave with his good hand, seemingly in the best of spirits. Harry wondered if he'd just imagined that look of exhaustion, but Snape also looked worried as he made his way to Harry.

The new professor, Slughorn, looked as if he would come over to speak to them too, but Snape quickly ushered Harry back into the side chamber before he could.

Harry managed to wait until they were back in Snape's living room, but then he burst out, "Professor Snape, is Dumbledore all right?"

"It's ‘Professor' Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry agreed. "But is he all right?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" Snape sounded more cross than he had in quite some time.

"Well, his arm is still hurt. He said it was caused by cursed magic, and I'm still having to take potions, and not move my arms or else they'll bleed. So I just wondered what the cursed magic is doing to him. He looked kind of tired when we left." Harry tried to ignore the niggling fear in the back of his mind. Dumbledore had to be all right. He just had to be. Harry refused to think otherwise. He wished suddenly that he'd never brought the subject up.

"The fact that he's basically in charge of the war, that he frequently deals with Ministry idiots who don't know enough to come in out of the rain, and that he's headmaster of a prestigious school about to open for a new year isn't enough to cause him to be tired?" Snape snapped.

Taken aback by Snape's harsh tone, Harry shook his head and wished more than ever that he hadn't said anything. And yet, he was worried about Dumbledore. How could he not say something?

"It's just that he said he'd been cursed with Dark magic, and I can't help but worry," he defended himself.

Snape sighed and came over to lay his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Professor Dumbledore said that's nothing to worry about. He's devoted a lot of time to this secret mission of his, and he has a great deal on his mind. But I'm sure he'll be his old self by the Opening Feast. The start of school always cheers him up."

He raised his eyebrows and continued. "Speaking of which, don't get any ideas about eating in the Great Hall again. Tonight you were with a fairly small group of people, mostly adults, all of whom wish you well. It would be another thing entirely for you to be surrounded by vast numbers of rowdy children, some of whom might delight in harming you."

Harry nodded. He'd pretty much figured that out on his own, anyway. At least, Snape didn't seem upset anymore.

"That reminds me," Snape abruptly headed for the bedroom and came back a moment later, carrying a wooden box. "Once classes begin, I will be teaching for a good part of the day, of course, and in case of trouble, you need to be able to contact me."

Snape opened the box and took out two identical objects. Once he saw what they were, Harry felt as if Snape had punched him. His face twisted with pain and he turned sharply away from the reminders of his own guilt and stupidity.

Two-way mirrors, just like the one Sirius had given him.

"Harry?"

Severus looked up just in time to see Harry turn a sickly gray-green color and spin around, hunched over and with his arms crossed over his chest as if he were in pain. He dropped the box and mirrors on the sofa and was at the boy's side in an instant.

"What's wrong? Are you ill?" His voice was sharp with worry.

He was mentally running through the ingredients of the nutritive potion he'd given the boy to drink, wondering if it had somehow reacted with the cursed magical wounds on Harry's arms, or with any of the ingredients in the other medicines Harry was taking, even though he knew it was impossible. But what else could cause such a response? Then he remembered something else.

"Does your scar hurt?" But the boy wasn't holding his forehead.

Severus was about to grab Harry in his arms and Floo him up to the infirmary---maybe Poppy would know what was wrong---when Harry took a deep breath and seemed to pull himself together.

"I'm all right," he said, and though his voice was strained, there was an underlying firmness that indicated he didn't want to discuss it any further.

Then again, people didn't always get what they wanted.

"You most certainly are not all right!" Severus snapped back, his concern making him waspish. "Look at your arms."

Sure enough, the gashes on Harry's arms were bleeding again, quite badly in fact. Severus had to cast three Healing Spells before they stopped. Harry was whiter than a blank sheet of parchment, although Severus wasn't sure if that was from the loss of blood or from whatever had upset him to start with. He Summoned a bottle of Blood-Replenisher and ordered the boy to sit before he fell over.

"But I might get blood on the sofa," Harry protested weakly, noticing that he'd gotten blood on his clothes when he'd folded his arms across his chest.

Severus didn't even bother answering, but just gave him a gentle push towards it. Harry sank down onto the sofa, and swallowed the Blood-Replenisher that Severus held to his lips. It tasted as vile as ever, so he gulped it down as quickly as he could, and then gratefully sipped the water that Severus conjured for him next while the professor cleaned and re-bandaged his wounds.

Feeling a little weak in the knees himself, Severus pushed the box and the mirrors to the side, and sat down next to Harry. He was surprised at how shaken he was. When had he started to care so much?

Beside him, Harry took a deep breath, and Severus glanced over at him.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

Harry hesitated, and Severus thought he was on the verge of opening up, but then he just said, "My stomach got upset for a minute, but I'm fine now. Thanks for...you know, taking care of my arms and all."

It was such an obvious lie that Severus couldn't help feeling a flash of anger, but he immediately realized that it was more frustration than true anger. He also realized that it would be unfair to take his frustration out on the boy. For all the progress they'd made lately, five years of enmity still lay behind them. Most of it, if not all, was Severus' fault. It was going to take time to overcome that. His anger disappeared, leaving a sorrowful regret behind.

Severus slipped his arm around Harry's shoulders---he thought Harry seemed to relax slightly whenever he did that---and said quietly, "Harry, if you don't want to tell me something, you can just say so. I won't be angry. But I would appreciate it if you didn't lie to me."

Harry ducked his head, but nodded. "Okay. I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Very well." He didn't like it, but he would respect the boy's wishes. At least, for now. He reached for the mirrors again. "Obviously, something about these mirrors bothers you. If you like, I could try to come up with another means of communication."

Again Harry hesitated, but then he said, "No, it's all right. I can use one if I need you."

"Right then," Severus spoke briskly. "You understand how they work?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, and he looked so sad that Severus almost forgot all about respecting the boy's wishes. He wanted to know what was wrong.

Instead he just sighed and said, "Keep one near you at all times, and I'll keep the other one on me."

***

Harry woke, a desolate keening ringing in his ears. It was a few seconds before he realized the sound was coming from him. A lamp on the table was glowing softly and Snape was bent over him, gently shaking his shoulder. His pale face was lined with worry.

"Harry! Wake up, child."

When he saw that Harry was awake, Snape sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and gathered him into his arms. Harry stiffened, but Snape just kept holding him and murmuring, "It'll be all right. You're safe now. Shh, you're safe."

Maybe it was the comforting touch and soothing words, maybe it was the fact that Harry could count the times he'd been hugged on one hand, maybe it was grief or fear, or a combination of all those things, but he clutched at Snape's robe, buried his face against the professor's shoulder, and sobbed and sobbed.

For a while, he was aware of only a few things...the soft wool of the robe-- quickly becoming damp from his tears, Snape's arms holding him close and his strong fingers gently carding through Harry's hair, and the shuddering sobs that tore through him from somewhere deep inside as images of Sirius played through his mind.

But finally Harry's wild grief eased, leaving only an occasional hitch in his breathing. He realized then that Snape was still talking, telling him that he was safe and didn't have to be afraid now.

"I'm not," Harry mumbled. His throat was sore from crying so hard, and his voice was so hoarse and muffled from his face being pressed against Snape's shoulder that he wasn't even sure the professor would understand him.

Apparently he did, though, because he said, "You're not what, Harry?"

"I'm not afraid." Harry swallowed and tried to explain. "Not right now. Sometimes I dream about the Death Eaters and him, and then I am. But sometimes...I dream about other things, and its worse."

The hand that was stroking through his hair paused, and though Harry didn't raise his head, he knew exactly what Snape's expression would look like---the tiny crease between his eyebrows, the way his face grew still somehow, whenever he was trying to puzzle something out.

"Worse? Harry, what could be..."

"Sirius," Harry said, and tears blurred his eyes and made his voice wobbly. "Sometimes I dream about Sirius."

"Oh."

It was all Snape said, but his hand began smoothing Harry's hair again, and his arms tightened, holding him even closer.

For some reason, now that he'd begun, Harry felt as if he had to tell more. "He's always so angry. I think he hates me. Because I killed him."

"Harry!" Snape sounded kind of angry himself, and Harry stiffened again, but then Snape sighed and patted his back and said more gently, "Harry, you did not kill Black."

"But I ..."

"Oh, hell," Snape interrupted, and snatched at his wand on the night table. "Hold on. Your arms...I should have checked already."

Harry looked down to see that blood had soaked through his pajama sleeves, and stained the front of Snape's robe, too.

"I'm sorry."

Snape Healed his arms, and washed and dressed them again. Then he reached over to lay one hand lightly against Harry's cheek. "Don't be ridiculous, child." His voice was gruff, but his hands were gentle.

He cleaned the blood off their clothes, and made Harry drink two vials of Replenishing potion, but ordered a bottle of butterbeer from the kitchens for him to sip afterwards. Then Snape sat back against the headboard and pulled Harry close again. This time Harry settled against him easily.

"Now, am I to understand that you blame yourself for Black's death?"

"Because I am to blame," Harry tried to make him see. "If I hadn't..."

"Did you shoot any curses at your godfather?" Snape interrupted.

"N..no," Harry said slowly, "But I..."

"Did you push him through the veil?"

"Of course not! But..."

"Then it is not your fault," Snape said firmly. When Harry tried to argue, he shook his head and went on, "Yes, you made mistakes. So did I, when I turned our Occlumency lessons into a battlefield and then called them off altogether. So did Professor Dumbledore, when he decided it was best to shut you out. We all made mistakes. I can't deny that."

"But," he added in a fierce tone. "Professor Dumbledore did not kill Sirius Black. Neither did I. And Harry, neither did you. If you blame yourself for his death, then you are doing Black a terrible dishonor. Firstly, because he would never want you to feel that way. And secondly, because you're taking the blame off the people who are truly guilty."

Harry was quiet for a while, thinking over Snape's words. If only he could believe them...but there were the mirrors. He could have prevented Sirius' death, no matter what Snape said, if only he'd opened the mirror in time.

"Sirius gave me a mirror," he said, suddenly wanting Snape to understand it all. "A two-way one, like yours. And he kept the other one. But I didn't realize what it was in time. If I had, I could have just called him at Grimmauld Place, and he would still be alive."

Snape took Harry's chin in his hand and tilted his face up so that their eyes met.

"Harry. It was not your fault."

"Do you really think so?" Harry whispered.

"I know so."

Harry wasn't sure, but he did feel as if the terrible ache in his chest had eased a little bit. He finished the butterbeer, and fell asleep, still curled up with Snape's arm around him.

***

"Are you sure you'll be all right using the mirror?" Snape asked.

It was the next morning, and Harry was sitting on the sofa, reading a mystery novel Hermione had lent him. He wasn't a voracious reader, like she was, but he liked a good book now and again, and since he'd completed all his summer assignments there wasn't very much else to do. He supposed he could have gone ahead and gotten a head start on his studies, but tomorrow would come soon enough.

Snape had been in his office, brewing some more Blood-Replenisher since Harry had had to drink so much of it last night, but now he came into the living room and sat down on the end of the sofa.

Harry looked up from the book and nodded. "Yes, thank you, sir. I think I'll be fine using it."

Snape started to say something, then stopped. When Harry looked at him curiously, the professor gestured towards the book, "What are you reading?"

Harry would have bet ten galleons that that wasn't what Snape had originally planned to say, but he had no idea what was on Snape's mind, so he just said, "It's a Muggle book, about a detective in London a hundred years ago. Hermione lent it to me. It's pretty good, actually. This detective, Sherlock Holmes, kind of reminds me of you a little bit."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Do tell. Is he forced to teach classes to dim-witted children, or to spy on evil geniuses with plans of world domination?"

Harry grinned, but remarked. "I thought you were going to try to be more positive about us students."

"Nag, nag, nag," Snape muttered. He shot a sideways glance at Harry and opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked away.

Well, Snape was certainly acting weird this morning. Harry considered mentioning it, but decided he wasn't that brave. He turned his attention back to the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

"Harry, there is a matter that I've been meaning to discuss with you for the past couple days," Snape spoke so abruptly that Harry was a little worried.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked.

Snape shook his head quickly, "No, no, nothing like that. It's just that...well, I think you and I have been getting along rather well, haven't we?"

Harry nodded.

Snape looked distinctly uncomfortable. "As you are going to be staying here for a while longer, I think perhaps...well, there's no need for quite so much formality on your part."

Harry blinked at him, utterly confused. "Sir?"

Snape ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, as long as we're not in class, that it would be...all right if you called me by my given name."

Harry blinked at him again. "You mean you want me to call you...Severus?"

"If you wish. Of course you may refer to me as ‘Professor Snape' if you're more comfortable with that." He stood up and headed back towards his office, muttering about getting supplies ready for class.

"Sir? I mean, Severus?" Harry almost couldn't make his tongue form the name, it seemed so alien. But he sensed that it meant a lot to Snape....no, to Severus. "I think that would be all right, too. Thank you."

He almost fell off the sofa when Snape...Severus actually smiled at him before disappearing into his workroom. Harry smiled back and thought that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to calling Snape ‘Severus'.

With a little practice.

"I will contact you after my first class," Severus said. He stood by the fireplace, ready to Floo to his classroom. He'd been ready, in fact, for the past ten minutes, but for some reason, he couldn't seem to bring himself to actually go. He kept thinking of warnings and instructions for Harry instead. "Where is your mirror?"

"On the table by the sofa. Right next to my books, and I have parchment and quills, and yes, they're all responding to my voice. We've double-checked them. Twice." Harry grinned.

Severus ignored Harry's joking and continued, "You know to move your arms as little as possible, and if they should begin bleeding..."

"Call you at once," Harry supplied.

"Because they won't stop bleeding on their own. If I don't heal them within a short while,..."

"I could bleed to death," Harry finished.

Severus frowned at him. "I'm not convinced you're taking the matter seriously."

"I am, sir...Severus. I really am. But we've been over it a dozen times already, and I know what to do. I'm just going to sit on the sofa and read my books and take notes. I'll be very careful about moving my arms, and if there are any problems, I'll call you through the mirror right away," Harry promised.

Severus sighed and nodded. "Very well. I'll be back at lunchtime, Harry. Have a good morning."

"You, too. And you're going to be nicer to the students, remember. No making first-years cry."

"And I was so looking forward to this morning," Severus said dryly. He patted Harry's shoulder, then stepped into the fireplace and Flooed away.

Harry shook his head, still feeling slightly amazed that he and Sn...Severus could joke around with each other. Who would have ever believed it? Then he went over to the sofa and sat down, picking up his schedule, which McGonagall had sent to him during breakfast.

Defense Against the Dark Arts first. It seemed strange when he didn't even know the new professor. He wondered what Slughorn would be like, and shuddered as memories of Umbridge floated into his mind. But then Harry resolutely pushed them away. It wouldn't do to get all upset and have to call Severus back before he'd even finished his opening "stopper death" speech. Anyway, Slughorn was bound to be different from Toad Lady.

Harry settled down to read the first chapter of the Defense text, but it wasn't long before he realized that he might have a problem. Apparently, learning nonverbal magic was going to be important in Defense this year, and much of the first chapter described ways of casting and repelling jinxes by unspoken incantations, with instructions for pairing up and practicing.

It sounded like they were going to be getting lots of practical experience this year, which was great, except that Harry couldn't use his wand yet. Well, he would just have to study the theory, and hope that it would help him to pick up the skill quickly once his arms were well and he could actually practice.

Harry spent the next hour reading and taking notes on the application of nonverbal magic. At first he'd felt a bit silly talking to the quill instead of writing, but he'd gotten used to it by now and was soon absorbed in his work. It was a surprise when he heard Severus' voice calling him. Carefully setting his book and parchment aside, he reached for the mirror and smiled at the professor's rather anxious expression.

"Hi, Severus. How was class?"

Severus seemed to relax once he saw that Harry was all right. "It went well enough, I suppose. I took your advice and only gave five detentions instead of the usual ten."

"Well, that's an improvement." Harry agreed. Before Severus could ask, he added, "Everything's fine here. My arms aren't bleeding, and I've just been studying Defense." He hesitated. "Um, Severus, is there any way that I could begin using my wand again?"

"No! Are you mental, Potter? Are you trying to kill yourself? Your wounds bleed at the slightest provocation, and you want to wave a wand about and have surges of magic traveling through your body? Do you have any idea how much damage..."

"I do now," Harry remarked, in a passably good imitation of Severus' own wry tones. "Sorry, Professor Snape, I promise I won't touch a wand until I have your express permission."

Severus scowled at him. "I don't care for that attitude, Potter. I can still assign you detention, you know."

Harry swallowed hard and looked away for a minute. He wasn't sure exactly how or why they'd started arguing, but he didn't like it. It hurt for the professor to look at him angrily, and speak in such a scathing tone. And worse, it brought back all his fears about their newfound friendship dissolving. He wasn't sure if he could stand it if they went back to being enemies.

A flash of red on his arms caught his attention, and he turned back to the mirror. "My arms are bleeding."

"I'm coming." The professor abruptly disappeared from the mirror and an instant later he was rushing out of the fireplace in the living room. He quickly healed Harry's arms and re-bandaged them. Then he moved Harry's book aside and sank down beside him on the sofa, looking drained and worried.

"I'm sorry," Harry said in a small voice.

"So am I," the professor agreed. He ran a hand through his hair. "I...over-reacted, I suppose. It...concerned me when you mentioned using your wand. You can't do that yet, Harry. The loss of blood could kill you."

Harry nodded. "I didn't mean to talk back. It was just that you started calling me ‘Potter' again, and I thought...." He shook his head and repeated. "I'm sorry."

Casting a sidelong glance at the man beside him, he made himself ask, "Do you still want me to call you ‘Severus'?"

"Of course I do, Harry." Severus pulled him close in a one-armed hug. "I'm not going to stop caring for you just because we exchange a cross word now and again."

Harry froze, wondering if he'd really heard correctly. "You care about me?"

"After the past few weeks, you still have to ask?" Severus murmured. He reached to place his fingers under Harry's chin and tilt his face towards him, just as he had the night before. "Yes, Harry. I care for you. I suppose that's why I spoke so sharply before. There have only been a few people that I have cared for in my life, and most of them are gone now. I don't want anything else to happen to you."

Harry swallowed hard, feeling as if a burden had fallen off his shoulders. It was all right. Sn...Severus didn't hate him again.

"I was just worried about getting behind in class," Harry explained. "The whole first half of the Defense book is about practicing nonverbal dueling, and I can't even use my wand. How am I going to keep up?"

"You won't get that far behind in a couple weeks," Severus told him. "Nonverbal magic is quite difficult and it'll take months of practice before most of your classmates succeed at it. And if you do feel that you need extra help, I'll work with you on it...once your arms are healed."

"All right, sir," Harry gave him a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, do I have your word that you will not attempt to practice with your wand until your arms are well?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Good." Severus hesitated, then repeated what he'd said earlier, "I don't want anything to happen to you, Harry."

Harry looked at him, and something in the professor's black eyes made him feel better. Severus really did care for him.

Severus reached over to smooth Harry's hair. "Will you be all right now?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, sir."

"All right, then. I've got to go. I'm late for my next class. It's a double one, so I won't be back until lunch. Unless you need me, of course." Severus swept back towards the fireplace.

Before he could Floo away, Harry had to ask. "Severus? How could you put me in detention, since I can't move my arms and all?"

"Oh, I'm sure I could think of something if I really tried," Severus drawled before vanishing in a burst of green flame.

***

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Harry studied Charms until Severus reappeared for lunch. He was anxious to hear about the first day of school, but so far Severus had only taught younger students and hadn't seen any of the sixth-years.

"Ron and Hermione said they'd come down after their last class. I can't wait to hear all about everything. That's all right, isn't it?" He added, looking over at the professor. It was Severus' home after all. Of course, he'd given Harry's friends permission to visit during the summer, but Harry had to wonder if he might feel differently now that classes had started back up.

But Severus nodded. "Yes. You can invite them to stay for dinner, too, if you'd like."

Harry grinned at him. "I never thought you'd be willing to have all of us down here."

"Times change, Mr. Potter," Severus smirked at him, and then said, "And I'm not upset with you, Harry. But I will have to call you ‘Potter' again in class, you know."

"I know, but that's different." Nonetheless, Harry felt an unpleasant chill deep inside when he thought about attending Potions class again. Sure, everything had been going great here, but what would it be like to face Severus from across his desk in the classroom again? Old memories tried to surface...the professor's cool voice sneering at him, his dark eyes cold and angry,...the queasy feeling in Harry's stomach when he entered the dungeons and knew that he would be baited and humiliated in front of everyone...

"Harry?" A warm hand settled on his shoulder and Harry looked up to see Severus watching him, and now his eyes and voice were filled with concern.

Harry shoved the past away. It was over, after all. Severus cared for him now.

"I'm fine." He forced himself to smile. "I was just thinking about classes. Wonder what Slughorn's like? Sorry, it's ‘Professor' Slughorn, I know. I guess Ron and Hermione can tell me when they come down."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Are you so sure that your friends have had a class with Professor Slughorn then?"

Harry frowned at him. "They had Defense this morning, and isn't he the new Defense professor?"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose." Severus reached for another sandwich.

"Well, there aren't any other positions available, are there?"

"No." Severus took a bite of his sandwich.

Harry grinned. "You're just trying to tease me. Either he's the Defense professor or he isn't. There's no other choice, is there?"

Severus drained his glass of water and stood up. "Well, he is and he isn't. But I'm sure Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will want to explain it to you themselves, and I'd hate to spoil their surprise. If you're all right, Harry, the third-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are waiting."

"What time will you be back?" Harry asked.

"About four o'clock, I suppose. But if you need me for anything..."

"Call you. I know. Good-bye, sir."

Harry spent the afternoon studying Herbology and Transfiguration. A few times he got distracted thinking about his friends and wondering how everyone's first day of classes was going, but for the most part, he concentrated on his work.

McGonagall had been right...it looked as if sixth-year was going to be challenging, and Harry wanted to keep up. It was obvious that nonverbal spells were going to be important in more classes than just Defense and he couldn't help but worry about being hopelessly behind everyone else, in spite of Severus' reassurances. He missed being in class, but he had to admit that he did get a lot of reading done on his own.

He had just finished the second chapter in the Transfiguration text, when there was a knock on the door, and he heard Ron's voice saying, "It's us, Harry. Let us in."

Grinning, Harry called out the password and a moment later, his two best friends were seated beside him on the sofa. Hermione dug around in her bag for the notes she'd promised to bring while Ron leaned back with an exhausted groan.

"You know, after last year being so rough, what with our O.W.L.S. and all, you'd think they'd go a bit easier on us this year, wouldn't you? But I swear, it's even worse. Essays in Charms and Transfiguration already, and a test Friday in Defense," he complained.

Harry looked from one to another impatiently. "Never mind that. Tell me about everybody."

Ron sat up and he and Hermione exchanged a significant look.

"Harry, you'll never guess who the Defense professor is!" Hermione began.

Harry couldn't imagine who it was, if not Slughorn, but before he could say anything, Ron burst out, "It's Dumbledore!"

"Ron, I was telling him," Hermione exclaimed.

Ron looked a little shamefaced. "Sorry."

"Dumbledore?" Harry repeated after a moment of stunned silence. "But he's headmaster. How can he teach, too? I mean, isn't being headmaster a full-time job?"

"He said he thought that with You-Know-Who being back and all, that it was vital for us to know how to defend ourselves, and that as he had had a hard time finding a competent instructor willing to take on the full responsibility of teaching, he'd decided he would just have to make time for it himself," Hermione explained.

"Well, I guess that's what Snape meant," Harry muttered.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Oh, he was just being evasive when I said something about Slughorn being the Defense professor." Harry frowned thoughtfully. "What is Slughorn doing here then?"

"Well, he's going to be Dumbledore's assistant and substitute." Ron put in. "You're right, Dumbledore did say that he had a lot of other duties as well, and that when he couldn't be there, Slughorn would fill in. He's going to help with grading exams and papers, too, I think."

"But is he any good?" Harry wondered. "What about Dumbledore saying he couldn't find anyone competent?"

"Oh, Slughorn's competent," Hermione said. "He and Dumbledore gave us a demonstration of dueling at the beginning of class, and Harry, it was amazing. I've never seen anything like it."

Harry remembered Dumbledore fighting Voldemort at the Ministry last spring, and he knew that if the headmaster had shown the class even a fraction of his skills, that it would have been amazing indeed. It was a moment before he realized that Hermione was still talking.

"Apparently Slughorn used to be a Hogwarts professor, too, but he retired years ago, and didn't want to come back to work full-time. He agreed to help out when Dumbledore needed someone to take his place, but that's all."

"Hmm, well, that's..." Harry broke off, a terrible thought slammng into him with all the force of avalanche. "But it's cursed! No one lasts longer than a year in Defense! What's Dumbledore thinking? We can't lose him!"

"Calm down, mate." Ron patted his shoulder. "You're gonna get your arms bleeding again."

Harry took a deep breath. "But we can't lose..."

"Relax, Harry," Hermione said. "Ron and I have been talking about it already. Dumbledore knows about the curse, and he'd never leave Hogwarts. You know that. He may only teach for a year, but he'll still be headmaster."

Harry took another deep breath and checked to be sure that his arms were all right. He told himself that Hermione was right. Of course Dumbledore wouldn't risk leaving them. But the little knot of fear in his stomach wouldn't listen to reason.

"The Healing Salves are nearly ready. I think this weekend we can begin applying them to your arms."

Harry looked up at Severus' announcement. It was Friday evening at the close of the first week of classes and they were eating dinner---shepherd's pie, a fruit salad, and treacle tart for dessert.

He just stared at the professor for a minute, not sure how he felt about the news. At one time, it would have been music to his ears to hear that he would soon be well enough to return to Gryffindor Tower, but now...well, it would be hard to leave Severus' rooms. He hadn't even realized how much he'd come to enjoy being here, until now when his departure seemed imminent.

Harry couldn't help but wonder what would happen between Severus and himself once he wasn't living here anymore. Would they still be friends? Or would Severus slowly become more distant from him, the way Remus had? It would be easy for that to happen, wouldn't it, once they were caught up in the busyness of everyday life at Hogwarts? Even worse, would they somehow go back to being enemies?

And aside from his worries about that, there was another reason he didn't want to return to the Tower yet. He felt his face turn red just thinking about it and he looked down at his half-eaten food.

"Harry? You don't seem very happy."

He looked up to see Severus watching him intently and wondered how he could explain it all. Maybe if he started with the second reason...

"Well, it'll be great for my arms to be all right," he began. In spite of his concerns, his lips quirked as he added, "Be nice to finally be able to feed myself again. Oh, thanks for doing that, Severus. And for never being mean about it, even at the beginning."

Severus huffed. "It would have been extremely unfair to ridicule you for something that was completely beyond your control."

And it wasn't unfair to bully me all those years just because I look like my father? That's a little beyond my control, too. But Harry didn't want to think about the past. There was no point in letting that come between them now. Not after everything Severus had done for him and when they were getting along so well. He resolutely pushed those thoughts away.

"And I want to thank you for working so hard on the salves and all my potions, too," Harry smiled at him. "You saved my life. Again."

Now it was Severus' turn to look uncomfortable, as if he weren't used to being thanked. Nonetheless, he reached over and laid one hand over Harry's, saying quietly, "You're most welcome."

Then he gave Harry's hand a light squeeze. "But this doesn't explain why you seem troubled at the idea of the salves being ready."

Harry sighed, "It's just that I still have nightmares all the time, and you know how bad they are. Once my arms are well, I'll go back to Gryffindor, and I just kind of hate for the other guys to see me like that. If it were just Ron, or maybe even Neville.... I mean, I don't think Dean or Seamus would be horrible about it, but still..." His voice trailed off, and he looked away, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

Severus squeezed his hand again. "There's no reason to be upset, Harry. Anyone would have nightmares if they'd suffered half the things you have. I would hope your Gryffindor friends would understand that. Still, I can sympathize with your feelings."

He sat back in his chair and regarded Harry thoughtfully. "There are a couple of solutions. There are potions that repress nightmares and help a person to sleep."

Harry opened his mouth indignantly to demand why he hadn't been given them earlier, but Severus' next words halted him.

"However," Severus raised an eyebrow at him as if he knew exactly what Harry wanted to say. "None of them are designed for long-term use. The sleeping agent in them can be addictive, so these potions must be used sparingly."

"Oh," Harry sighed. "Not much use to me then."

"I'm afraid not," Severus agreed. "I would have given them to you long ago, Harry, if not for that."

Harry nodded, feeling a little guilty. He should have known that Severus had a reason for not offering the potions.

"Another possibility is for us to resume Occlumency lessons," Severus said slowly, gauging Harry's reaction.

"Occlumency? That would help with nightmares?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"I've found that it helps with mine."

"I thought it just kept other people from seeing into your mind," Harry said.

"That is the primary purpose. Repressing nightmares is an added bonus," Severus hesitated. "We could do better at it this time, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry looked into his eyes, at the warmth and concern there now, and said softly, "Yeah, we could."

They were quiet for a moment; then Harry spoke again. "But Severus, even if I can learn Occlumency, and I was rotten at it last year, so maybe I can't..."

Severus shook his head. "You can resist the Imperious Curse. With proper instruction, you should be able to learn to Occlude as well. It's my fault that you were ‘rotten at it last year', as you so eloquently put it. I'm very sorry."

"That's all over now," Harry replied. "But, anyway, even if I can learn Occlumency, it'll take a while, won't it?"

"Yes." Severus considered him, then said slowly, "If you would like, you may continue to sleep here until your nightmares cease."

"I could?" Harry tried not to sound too eager. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not." Severus smiled. "Although if you're going to be here indefinitely, then it's high time you had your own room."

"My own room?" Harry repeated blankly.

"Well, you've been in my bedroom because I needed to keep a close watch over you, and my room connects to my office. But once your arms are healed, you'll be able to have a little more privacy. We'll make your room after we've eaten." Severus speared a bite of treacle tart with a fork and offered to Harry.

A short time later, Harry watched as Severus carefully spelled a new room into existence. It was next to Severus' and had doorways that led into both the living room and into the professor's own room. ("If you need me during the night, I can come more quickly if our rooms connect," Severus remarked.) A third door led to his own small bath.

The bedroom was not large, but it was cozy. An enchanted ‘window' gave the illusion of looking out over the lake, and Severus conjured a four-poster bed, a chest of drawers, a night table, and a desk, all made of gleaming mahogany wood.

He glanced over at Harry and gave a flick of his wand. An instant later, the bed was covered with a soft thick comforter, crimson with a pattern of tiny golden lions, and deep, fluffy pillows covered with crimson and gold striped shams. Velvety crimson drapes were tied back from the ‘window' with a silky golden rope, and a warm rug in Gryffindor colors covered the floor.

Severus turned to Harry. "Is this satisfactory?"

"It's wonderful," Harry whispered. Just like at his birthday party a few weeks ago, he was afraid he might cry from pure joy. His own room. He hadn't had one since he was a baby living with his parents. He didn't count the bedroom at the Dursleys. They had given it to him grudgingly, and it still felt as if it belonged to Dudley. Harry was only an unwelcome intruder who had to stay there for the summer.

But this room was really his. A sign that he was wanted here. Severus had even decorated it in Gryffindor colors for him. Happiness washed him, and Harry felt as if he might burst from it. He turned and flung his arms around Severus. "Thank you."

"Your arms, you foolish child!" But Severus hugged him back for an instant before stepping aside and examining Harry's arms, which fortunately, were not bleeding.

Harry had to spend the next little while in his room...lying on the bed, sitting at the desk, getting Severus to move his trunk from the other room to rest underneath the enchanted window, lying on the bed again.

But when Severus came to his door and asked dryly, "Are you ready for bed now, or would you like to play a game of chess?", he grinned and went back to the living room. They settled down on the sofa and Severus arranged the chessboard.

"You do realize, don't you, Harry, that it might also help to get over your nightmares if you talked about them?" Severus slid a piece across the board, without seeming to pay much attention to it. His black eyes were trained on Harry.

"I have told you about them," Harry said.

But Severus shook his head. "Only in the vaguest of terms. That they're about Voldemort and the Death Eaters, or sometimes about your godfather. I could guess that much on my own, you know."

Harry studied the chessboard as if the fate of the world hung on his next move. But when he'd finally ordered his knight into position, he looked up to find Severus still watching him, waiting patiently for a response.

He sighed. "Severus, you know how you said I could say if I didn't want to talk about something? I don't want to talk about my nightmares. Please?"

"Very well, then." Severus' voice was heavy, and Harry was surprised to see a flash of emotion in his eyes. Harry paused, realizing that he might have hurt the professor's feelings. He didn't want to do that, but it was so hard to talk about what had happened. Maybe he could tell just a little bit, though.

"It isn't that I don't trust you," he tried to explain. "It's just...hard to talk about. It brings it all back. Besides, you know what happened when the Death Eaters kidnapped me, and with Sirius. It just happens over again in my nightmares."

Severus laid a hand on his shoulder. "All right, Harry. I understand."

Harry tried to smile at him, and they played for another hour, talking only about the match. But when the clock chimed and Severus returned the board to its table, Harry remembered something that he and his friends had talked about that afternoon.

"Severus? I wanted to ask you something."

The professor just raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"It's been great of you to let Ron and Hermione visit. I don't know what I would have done without them, so thanks a lot, really..."

"Harry, you do not have to thank me for every little thing," Severus gave him a weary look. "Skip ahead to the question, all right?"

"Well, I just wondered if maybe some of my other friends could visit, too? I'd like to see Neville and Luna, now that they're back at Hogwarts."

Severus gave him a look of mock horror. "Not Longbottom and Lovegood, Harry. Of all the students in the school.... Longbottom is sure to cause something to explode and Lovegood will try to turn my home into a sanctuary for Graphorns."

Harry grinned, but just said, "Please, Severus? I really want to see them."

"Oh, all right. But I'm holding you responsible for any damage they do."

"Can they come tomorrow?"

Severus nodded. "I suppose. Now, come on. It's getting late."

"Can I sleep in my room tonight?"

"I'll have to move my cot in there, too. You can't sleep alone until your arms are well."

Harry nodded and said brightly. "That's all right." He went over to Severus and the professor wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they headed for Harry's room to retire for the night.

***

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna all came down after lunch the next afternoon. Severus let them in and quickly escaped to his office, while Harry proudly showed them his new room.

"So you're going to be staying here a while still?" Ron asked as they trooped back to the living room and sat down on the sofa and various chairs. He looked disappointed. "I hoped you'd come back to the Tower soon. It's not the same without you there, Harry."

Harry bit his lip, wanting to explain to Ron, but not sure if he could open up that much in front of all the others. Maybe he should wait til it was just Ron and Hermione and him. But Ginny, Neville, and Luna cared about him, too. Enough that they'd risked their lives to help him last spring. He could trust them, Harry realized.

"Well, I'm going to go back to classes pretty soon, and I'll visit in the Tower sometimes. But I'm going to keep on staying here for a while." Harry took a deep breath. "See, I...have really bad nightmares, about...you know, everything that's happened. And I'd like to be over those before I move back."

Neville looked at him, concern written all over his kind, round face. "Harry, you could come on back. We'd all understand. Nobody would give you a hard time."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Dean and Seamus have been worried about you. They keep asking if you're doing all right, and when you're gonna be back."

Harry smiled at them. "Tell them thanks. It shouldn't be too much longer. But, I'm really glad to stay here. Severus has been great to me. I know it's hard to believe, but...."

"He's been different in class, too," Ginny remarked. "He hasn't even taken points from Gryffindor yet. Well, I have to take that back. He did take a few when Colin Creevy was tardy yesterday, but any professor would have done that."

"Yeah, I don't think he's taken any unfair points in our class, either," Hermione said.

Neville grinned. "Obviously, he's in a better mood now that I'm not in Potions class anymore."

"What classes are you taking?" Harry asked, changing the subject. He was happy to learn that Severus really was trying to change his teaching style and be more fair to the Gryffindors, but he also had a good idea that Severus could hear them. His office wasn't that far away, and the man had extremely sharp hearing.

"Oh, Herbology, of course," Neville answered. "Defense, Divination, Muggle Studies, and Charms. I got an E in Charms. McGonagall thought I should try for a N.E.W.T. in it." Neville looked a bit proud of himself.

"That's great, Neville," Harry told him, and the conversation turned to classwork and studies for a time. Ginny and Luna bemoaned the amount of work they had to do to prepare for O.W.L.S. while Ron comfortingly told them that it only got worse. The others kept Harry amused with tales of the feud between Trelawney and the centaur Firenze, and then the discussion turned to Defense and what a fantastic instructor Dumbledore was.

"You've got to get well and come back soon, Harry," Hermione told him. "You'll love Defense this year. We're learning so much. Of course we're all still struggling with nonverbal magic, but I still think we've learned more in one week with Dumbledore than we did all of last year."

"Well, that's not saying much, considering we had Umbridge," Ron grumbled at the memories of last year. "Dumbledore is awesome, though. I'll give you that."

"We learned a lot in DA meetings," Ginny pointed out.

"Yes, the DA meetings were the best part of last year. Even better than playing with the thestral foals," Luna added.

"Oh, Harry, Dumbledore said we could start the DA up again, and everyone wants to," Hermione said. "You'll come, won't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry agreed, though he wondered when he was going to fit the meetings in, since schoolwork took up so much time---Ron was right about sixth-year being tough---and he was already going to have those private Occlumency lessons with Severus.

Still, Defense was important, and he'd pretty much decided against playing Quidditch this year, so he supposed he could make time for the DA. Thinking along those lines reminded him of the meetings, how they'd been a bright spot in that long, dark year, and how much they'd all learned. A good thing, too, considering what had been in store for them.

Harry looked around at the circle of kids surrounding him. "Um, guys, you should all know something. I don't think I told you before the end of term last year, and I should have. But I'm really sorry that I dragged you all to the Ministry with me. You could have been killed, and...."

"Harry," Ron interrupted firmly, "You didn't drag us anywhere. If I remember correctly, we had to fight with you before you agreed to let us come. And none of that was your fault."

"Yeah, Harry, we wanted to come," Ginny said softly and the others all nodded in agreement.

Harry looked at them for a long moment, then he nodded, too. "Well, I really appreciate it. You're all great friends."

The girls all hugged him, even Luna. And Ron and Neville clapped him on the back. They were quiet for a while after that, but it was all right. They didn't have to talk.

Adelberto Golpalott might have been a Potions genius, but he was a lousy writer, Harry thought crossly, looking up from chapter three of the sixth-year Potions text. From what he could tell by scanning through the book, it looked as if they were going to be studying Golpalott's Laws for most of the term.

The first fifteen chapters were composed mainly of Golpalott's essays on the symptoms and characteristics of various poisons and instructions for brewing their antidotes. All of which would be very useful, Harry knew, if only Golpalott could have written in words of less than seven syllables, or if his sentences hadn't been so rambling and twisted that Harry had forgotten the beginnings of them by the time he'd read through to the ends.

He closed his eyes and sighed. His head was starting to ache and he had still had several more pages to go before the end of the chapter. Thank goodness this was the last assignment for the weekend, and his friends were supposed to come down later. He'd have to get Hermione to explain it to him. She'd already had to help him through the first two chapters, although to be honest, her explanations hadn't made much more sense to Harry than the original text.

The logical thing to do, he knew, would be to go to Severus and ask for help. But somehow, Harry couldn't do that. He wasn't even exactly sure why. He didn't think Severus would sneer or make fun of him, but he still just couldn't do it.

He'd always considered himself fairly intelligent. Not like Hermione, but he'd usually done pretty well in his classes, and was quick to pick up on things. Except in Potions. And it had always been easy enough to dismiss his difficulties there by blaming it on Severus. After all, how could he really be expected to learn much when his stomach was a churning mess and he was on pins and needles waiting for Snape's next verbal attack?

Now, even though things were different between them, Harry simply could not go to him and admit that he was too stupid to understand the readings. He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he was back in class and had to actually brew Golpalott's antidotes, but maybe he could just watch Hermione and do what she did.

He wondered when he would be able to go back to classes. Today was Sunday, and Severus had said they would begin putting the Healing Salves on Harry's arms tonight, but that it would probably take several applications before the cursed wounds were truly healed.

That would be great. Harry looked down at his arms. The bandages were hidden now by his long sleeved shirt, but he knew they were there. He'd had to be careful about moving his arms for so long now, it would be weird to just be able to move them normally again, to not have to worry about starting the bleeding anymore. He could hardly wait.

As if on cue, Severus came to the living room door and called, "Harry, can you come here? We'll go ahead and put the salves on before dinner."

So Harry followed him back into the private office and laboratory. Unlike the other rooms, this one was plain and bare...a long cabinet along one wall, a few shelves on another, a worktable in the center of the room, and a tall stool to sit on.

A cauldron sat upon the table, and when Harry came closer he could see it was filled with a thick white substance. Severus motioned for Harry to sit on the stool and when he had perched there, Severus rolled up Harry's sleeves and Vanished the bandages.

The deep cuts along Harry's arms were as raw and open as they'd been the day the Death Eater had made them. Harry shuddered looking down at them and realized again how fortunate he'd been that Severus had known how to handle his injuries.

"I think you've had to deal with these quite long enough," the professor agreed. "Since your wounds are so deep and strongly cursed, it will likely take a few days before they're completely Healed. But we should see some improvement by tomorrow."

He dipped some of the salve out and gently smeared it over one cut. It stung fiercely at first, enough to bring tears to Harry's eyes, but then it cooled and faded into the cut.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked quietly.

Harry nodded, ashamed at being a baby, but Severus said, "I'm sure it is a bit painful. I'm sorry for having to hurt you."

"It's all right," Harry told him. "I've been through a lot worse."

But Severus frowned. "You shouldn't have had to suffer the way you have, Harry."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just gave Severus a wan smile and said, "Let's just do the other arm."

A few minutes later Severus was carefully bandaging him up again. "We'll put more salve on tomorrow evening. Don't worry, it shouldn't hurt. It's only because the wounds were so open that the salve was painful. By tomorrow, they should have begun to close up."

"How did you create this Healing Salve anyway?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore said it was really amazing that you did it, that this salve is a lot more potent than any of the others and it can heal a lot of injuries that are supposed to be incurable."

Severus seemed pleased. "It is one of my better creations. I simply experimented with the ratios of the different ingredients. It was rather tricky, of course, the hellebore and Re'em's blood are dependent on one another, and upsetting the balance renders them both useless. And of course, too much powdered dragon's horn is combustible. Potion-makers have long considered the current top Healing Salves to be the strongest possible, but I discovered that adding a touch of acromantula venom makes..."

He trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. "Well, it required a great deal of experimentation."

"But that's wonderful," Harry told him. "Why haven't you told anyone else about it? I bet St. Mungo's and other hospitals would love to have some."

"Oh," he answered his own question. "Because Voldemort had to think you were on his side, and I guess Death Eaters wouldn't go around giving Healing Salves to hospitals."

"Quite right," Severus agreed dryly.

"You could now though."

But the professor shook his head. "These salves take a considerable amount of time to brew, Harry. I have a full teaching schedule and I just don't have the time to devote to it. Not to mention some of the ingredients are rare and expensive. Perhaps someday I can concentrate on researching and developing Potions, but not now, I'm afraid."

Harry decided to change the subject. "When do you think I'll be able to go back to class?"

Severus looked thoughtful. "I expect it will be two or three days before your arms are well, and even then I would like observe you here for another day or so, just to be sure. Perhaps by the end of the week, but I'm not making any promises."

"All right." Harry got up. "Guess I'll go finish my work."

"What are you reading?"

"Your book." Harry made a face. "That Golpalott mess. It's sure not entertaining reading." Too late, he realized he might have led to an opening for Severus to question him about the text, but fortunately for him, the professor was too busy storing the Healing Salve.

Severus did frown at him, though. "That ‘Golpalott mess' is at least partially responsible for the Healing Salve that will cure you, I hope you realize. My work was based on his findings."

"Sorry," Harry sighed. "I just meant it was a little hard to read."

He hesitated, wondering if he could admit how completely lost he was. But Severus was busy and he'd already looked so disapproving about Harry not liking the Potions text that Harry was afraid to say any more. So he just went back to the living room and struggled through the rest of the chapter of his own.

***

By Wednesday evening, Harry's arms were finally well. On Thursday evening, Severus agreed that he could go back to class on Friday, and ‘they'd see how it went.' He did insist on Harry taking the magical mirror with him, so he'd have a way to get in touch immediately if there were any problems.

Harry thought Severus was being a little paranoid, but at the same time, it was nice to have someone who worried about him and who wanted to make sure he was all right, so he didn't argue but dutifully packed the mirror (spelled with an Unbreakable Charm) into his bag with his books and parchment.

It was later that evening, as he was getting ready for bed, that it really hit Harry...he was completely well again. He was going back to class. He had Herbology, Defense, and Potions tomorrow. But was he really ready? He'd kept up with all the reading and writing assignments, even gotten a bit ahead, but he hadn't been able to use his wand and do any of the practical applications at all.

And he'd gone through the Potions chapter twice more, once with Ron and Hermione, and once by himself, but he still didn't understand it. And what would Severus be like back in class? Ron and Hermione said he hadn't been too bad this year, but Harry couldn't help feeling a little nervous.

Some of his anxiety must have shown because when Severus came in to say good night later, he added. "There's no reason to be worried, Harry. You've kept up with your work, and if you need any extra help, I'll be happy to work with you. I'm sure your other professors feel the same way. You'll do fine in class tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Severus. Good night."

"Good night." Severus started back to his room. Now that Harry's arms were well, he was sleeping in his own bedroom again, though he left the door between their rooms open so he would hear when Harry had nightmares.

At the door, he paused and then said softly, "Harry? You'll do fine in Potions class, too."

***

Harry forgot his worries, at least for a time, the next morning when he and Severus entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Almost half the Gryffindors and some of the Hufflepuffs, too, left their tables and rushed over to greet him. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Lavendar, Ernie Macmillan, and Hannah Abbott...they all crowded around him, gripping his hand, clapping him on the back, hugging him. They were all so genuinely happy to see him that all of Harry's doubts vanished in a rush of joy.

At the head table, Professor McGonagall stood and tapped on her glass with a spoon to get their attention. "Everyone, return to your seats please." But she didn't sound very stern, and Dumbledore was positively beaming at them.

"You seem to be in good hands. I'll see you in class this afternoon, Mr. Potter." Severus' hand rested on his shoulder for just an instant and then he swept away.

As his friends guided him towards the Gryffindor table, Harry caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins glowering, but then he was taking his place at the table, and a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and porridge appeared before him, and everyone was asking questions, and he forgot about the Slytherins.

After breakfast, Harry felt more like a celebrity than ever, the way everyone surrounded him in a crowd as they headed off to Professor Sprout's greenhouses. At first, everyone kept asking about his kidnapping and rescue, and Harry felt really uncomfortable. Even his closest friends knew only the barest details, and he wasn't ready to share more than that, but after a couple of vague answers, Ron spoke up for him.

"Hey, give Harry a break. He doesn't want to talk about that stuff right now. Harry, you won't believe what Sprout's got us doing. Those Venomous Tentacula plants ought to be illegal."

Professor Sprout smiled when they entered and welcomed Harry back happily, and the rest of Herbology went by pleasantly as well, in spite of the ornery Venomous Tentaculas. They were allowed to work in groups, and Ron and Hermione were able to quickly explain what they'd been doing so Harry didn't feel too out of the loop. He was almost sorry when it was over, though he was rather looking forward to Defense, too.

Dumbledore was waiting at the front of the classroom when they arrived for his class, wearing bright sapphire robes with silver spangles. He, too, greeted Harry with joy, and then they settled down to work. For most of the class they practiced nonverbal magic, attempting to cast and repel jinxes at each other. Harry took turns pairing up with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, and he was very relieved to see that Severus had been right...no one had mastered nonverbal spells yet.

Dumbledore wandered up and down the aisles, watching them practice, correcting mistakes and offering suggestions. The only trouble came near the end of class, when Dumbledore allowed them to speak the incantations aloud for the last few minutes, and Neville cast a Body-Bind Spell at Harry.

He'd repelled the Body-Bind before, it wasn't even particularly difficult. Harry had a good Shield Charm. But this time, just for an instant, he didn't see his friend Neville casting a harmless jinx. He saw hooded Death Eaters delighting in tormenting him, and attempted to say, "Protego" a shade too late.

The Body-Bind hit him and he fell. Almost the instant he touched the floor, Neville had released him from it and hurried over.

"You okay, Harry?"

Harry sat up, gasping for air, and trying to push his fear away. He took several deep breaths and looked up to see Neville watching him in concern.

"Harry, I didn't mean to..."

"I'm fine, Neville. Don't worry about it." Harry attempted to smile and quickly got back to his feet. Ron and Hermione started over towards him, but he waved them away. The last thing he wanted was to get everyone's attention.

"Class is dismissed." Dumbledore called. "Harry, could I see you for a few minutes?"

Harry waited til the other students had filed out and then made his way to Dumbledore's desk.

"Are you okay?" The headmaster asked gently.

Harry looked into Dumbledore's bright eyes and nodded. "Yes, sir. I just remembered the Death Eaters for a minute, that's all. It won't happen again."

Dumbledore placed his uninjured hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's all right, Harry. It's only been a few weeks since you endured that terrible ordeal. It's perfectly natural that you need some time to recover, emotionally as well as physically. Would you like to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head. "No, thank you," he whispered.

Dumbledore regarded him steadily and Harry forced himself not to look away from the headmaster's searching gaze. Finally Dumbledore nodded. "All right, then. But Harry, my door is always open to you if you should change your mind."

"Thank you, sir."

Ron, Hermione, and Neville were waiting for him in the hall.

"What'd he want?" Ron asked as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Just to see if I wanted to talk about, you know, being attacked this summer." Harry glanced over to see Neville still looking a bit worried as well as confused.

He suddenly decided that his friends could know at least this little bit. "When the Death Eaters had me, they put a Body-Bind Spell on me when they were torturing me," he said abruptly.

Hermione took his hand and Ron swallowed hard. Neville looked absolutely horrified, and guilt-stricken.

"Harry, I'm really sorry. I didn't know. I thought a Body-Bind Spell would just be nothing to you. I'm really sorry."

"Neville, it's okay. I didn't tell you to make you feel bad," Harry told him. "You didn't know. It's hard for me to talk about what happened, but I just wanted you guys to know something about it. You deserve that. You're my best friends."

They remained quiet for the first part of lunch, until finally Ron made an effort to cheer them all up. "Well, just one more class and then we're free for the weekend."

Harry had been trying not to think too much about Potions coming up next. He frowned down at his plate.

Hermione was watching him. "What's wrong, Harry? I thought you wouldn't mind Potions so much anymore."

"Yeah, it's won't be like before, will it?" Ron asked. "Snape seems to really like you now."

"Yeah, I know," Harry mumbled. "It won't be like before." But what if it is? "I just don't understand any of that stuff in the text. Do you?"

Ron considered. "Well, it's not easy reading. I have to concentrate on it, and I still have to get Hermione's help sometimes. But yeah, I think I understand most of it."

Harry groaned and put his hands over his face.

"It's not that bad, Harry. Really, it isn't," Hermione said. "You just have a mental block about Potions, I think." She hesitated. "If you're having that much trouble, why don't you ask Snape for help?"

Harry sighed. "I just can't."

He didn't know how to explain his complicated feelings any better, but when he looked at them, he thought they understood.

***

Severus had carefully planned this afternoon's lesson. He watched closely as the sixth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins entered. He was curious to see how Harry had fared on his first day back, not that they could chat about it now...that would have to wait til later this evening. But he could tell whether things had gone well just by looking at the boy's face.

Harry seemed tense when he came in with his friends, and Severus felt instant concern. What could have gone wrong? He'd always thought that Harry did well in his other classes. It was Potions where he'd had the most trouble, but that would change now. He smiled thinking about the lesson to come. Maybe it would cheer Harry up a little, and they could talk about his other classes after dinner.

It wasn't just because of Harry that he paid attention to the students coming through the door. Some of the Slytherins came from Death Eater families and now that his role as a spy against Voldemort had been exposed, he had to keep a close eye on them.

With Albus' help, he had fixed a complicated protective ward around his classroom and private quarters, something similar to the ones around the Burrow. If any student wished to commit bodily harm against him or Harry, an alarm would sound when they tried to enter.

It had been very tricky. Normally, Severus could cast protective wards perfectly well by himself, but this had been a special case. As Albus had rather cheerfully pointed out, there were probably quite a few students who wouldn't have minded seeing some minor harm come Severus' way. And they'd needed to distinguish between the relatively harmless students, and those who were a genuine threat.

But Severus thought they'd finally done it. One of his seventh-year Slytherins had already set it off and been expelled. That had come as a blow, Severus had to admit, though maybe it shouldn't have. He knew some of the Slytherins were doomed. He wished he could have done more for them, to dissuade them from following down a dark path, but his role as spy had prevented him doing very much. Maybe that could change now, too.

The wards were silent today, and as soon as the students had taken their seats, Severus announced. "Today we will be discussing Golpalott's Second Law. Mr. Potter, can you explain how this law applies to the diagnosis of a poison?"

He'd chosen Harry because he knew the boy had studied the Potions text diligently, more than once, even. He should have no trouble answering the question, and then Severus could praise him and reward Gryffindor with points, showing everyone how much things had changed between the two of them. He'd been looking forward to it all morning.

So he was utterly taken aback when Harry froze and gazed at him with the panicked look of a trapped animal.

There was a moment of silence while the two of them stared at each other. Then Hermione Granger raised her hand. Realizing that he needed to break the stalemate, Severus nodded at her. "Miss Granger?"

She answered correctly, of course, and Severus promptly awarded Gryffindor ten points, to the absolute astonishment of everyone in the room. The Slytherins seemed dismayed; the Gryffindors delighted, with the exception of Harry who ducked his head and stared at either his desk or cauldron for the rest of the lesson.

Severus left him alone for the rest of class, though he noticed that Harry didn't make a move without watching Hermione Granger first. Obviously, he had not understood the assigned readings, and Severus couldn't help feeling annoyed. Couldn't Harry have found a moment to ask for help sometime during the week?

Well, he fully intended to let Harry know how he felt as soon as class was over. But when he'd dismissed the others, and told Harry to stay, the boy looked so upset that Severus' indignation slipped away.

He walked over. "Harry, obviously you do not understand Golpalott's Laws. Is it really so hard to ask me for help?"

He was not prepared for sad despair in Harry's eyes when the boy looked at him and said miserably, so softly that Severus almost couldn't hear him. "Yes, it is."

Severus ran a hand over his face and then reached over to touch Harry's arm. "Why, Harry? I thought we'd become closer than that."

"We are. I don't know why...." Harry looked away but not before Severus saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

He pulled Harry into his arms and held him close. Harry's thin shoulders shook and Severus patted his back gently. The boy seemed so frail, so vulnerable. Severus felt a rush of anguish that he had ever hurt this child. With one hand, he smoothed Harry's hair and cradled the boy's head against his shoulder. Harry buried his face against Severus' neck and clung to him, weeping. It was a long time before they drew apart.

Then Severus said, gently, but firmly. "All right, Harry. We'll go over the Potions text this weekend, and anytime you don't understand something, you need to let me know." He hesitated, then said. "I want you to know that you can come to me, Harry. About Potions, as well as anything else. You don't have to be afraid."

Harry nodded, and Severus reached out to smooth his hair and then rested his hand on the boy's arm. "Are you all right now?"

Harry nodded again, and even smiled a little. "Yeah."

"Well, then, do you want to eat in the Great Hall or in our rooms?"

Harry considered. "I'm kind of tired. I think I'd just like to go back to our rooms."

Severus held out an arm to him, and Harry went to him. Severus wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders and together they left the classroom.

Harry slept in the next morning and by the time he'd dressed and ventured out into the living room, Severus had already eaten breakfast and was seated on the sofa, reading through a stack of old parchment.

He glanced up as Harry came in. "Good morning. Though if you'd been much longer, I'd have to say ‘Good afternoon' instead."

Harry flushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sleep so late."

Severus waved it away. "It's all right. I suppose you needed the rest. Your breakfast is on the table. I put a Warming Spell on the plate, so it should still be hot."

"Thanks," Harry told him as he went over to the table. He ate quickly and then went to sit beside Severus, who was absorbed in his reading again. Harry looked over at the parchment curiously.

"What are you reading?"

"Some of my old notes on Golpalott's Laws," Severus answered. "You can have them, if you wish. I think they'll be easier to understand than the book. I still want us to go over the chapters together, though. Are you planning to meet with your friends today?"

Harry nodded. "I said I'd go up to the Tower and hang out for a while this afternoon." He paused. Should he check with Severus before making plans now? Certainly, he'd never have considered doing such a thing in the past...he would have bristled at the mere notion. But now he was living in the man's home, and they were...friends, he supposed.

But it was different from being friends with kids his own age. Severus was old enough to be his father. He had been a contemporary of Harry's parents. And he was a professor. He did have a certain authority.

For the first time, Harry wondered just how much authority he truly wanted Severus (or any adult, really) to have over his life. He'd been taking care of himself for years. It would be weird to suddenly have someone telling him what he could and couldn't do.

Kind of like a parent.

And yet, wasn't that what he'd always wanted?

Severus glanced over at him. "Is something wrong?"

Harry felt a smile spread across his face. "No, Severus. Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you staring at me like that?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just wondering when you wanted to help me study. I could see my friends later, if you wanted to do it now."

He felt a little proud of himself for being so mature, but it turned out to be unnecessary.

"We can study now, if you'd like, Harry. But I was actually thinking we'd do it tomorrow afternoon, and that way it would all still be fresh in your mind for Monday's class."

"Are you going to call on me again?" Harry asked, his voice sounding a bit smaller than he'd planned. But he really didn't like being called on in Potions.

Severus set the parchment aside and turned to face him. He reached over and one hand curled around the back of Harry's neck.

"Relax, Harry," he said softly. His fingers began lightly rubbing at the tense muscles in Harry's neck. "As I told you, I picked you yesterday because I thought you would know the answer, and I wanted to reward you. I wanted to make Potions class a more pleasant experience for you."

"It would be more pleasant if you wouldn't call on me," Harry replied.

Severus sighed. "A compromise, then. I will have to ask you questions in class at some point, Harry. But I will wait until you feel more comfortable with the prospect."

"So I won't have to answer anything in class next week?" Harry wanted to clarify.

Severus nodded. "As long as we discuss the assignments here, and I know that you are learning the material, I won't call on you in class. Does that satisfy you?" He arched an eyebrow at Harry.

"When will you start calling on me?"

"I told you, when you are comfortable with it."

"What if I'm never comfortable with it?"

But then Harry wished he hadn't asked that, because there was a flash of emotion in Severus' dark eyes, similar to the flash of emotion that had been there at Harry's birthday party before Harry had noticed him being left out.

"Well, let's give the matter a rest for now, and see if you feel differently in a few weeks' time, all right?"

"All right," Harry agreed quietly. He had a sneaking suspicion that he'd hurt Severus, and he felt guilty about it.

But on the other hand, the professor didn't understand just how upsetting Potions class had always been to Harry. He'd always managed to hide his feelings behind a mask of stoicism and occasional defiance. He had his pride, after all. Ron and Hermione were the only ones who knew how sick and miserable he had been before having to face Snape in the dungeons.

"Harry?"

He looked up to see Severus watching him, and with past memories fresh in his mind, it was all he could do not to flinch when the professor moved his hand to smooth Harry's hair. Thank goodness he caught himself in time. That would have really hurt Severus, and Harry honestly didn't want to do that.

He cared about Severus, and he knew that Severus cared about him. He'd known it in his mind for a while, and now he was beginning to believe it with his heart, too. So why had he made such a big deal about being called on in class? All of a sudden, he wished he hadn't. It was just so confusing. He wanted to forget about the past and quit letting it interfere with the present, but sometimes the old feelings overwhelmed him and he didn't know how to stop them.

He realized that Severus was looking a bit worried, and made himself smile. "I'm fine. I'll guess I'll go on up to the Tower." He stood and started for the door.

But Severus stopped him. "Actually, Harry, I think you should Floo to the Tower and back instead of walking."

Harry looked at him a second, puzzled, but then he caught on. "Because of the Slytherins? Are we really in danger down here?"

There was no doubt that Severus looked pained now, and Harry knew it was hard for him to admit that some of the students in his own House were enemies.

"Not in our rooms, and not in the classroom," The professor said. "Albus and I have put up some strong protective wards, so we're very safe here. You don't have to worry. But if you were to meet up with certain Slytherins in the corridors.... Well, it's better to avoid that situation."

"I'm not helpless, you know," Harry remarked. "Now that I can use my wand again, I..."

"You are quite capable of defending yourself in many circumstances," Severus interrupted firmly. "I do know that, Harry. But I would prefer that you not have to face a group of hostile students alone. So for my peace of mind, I would like for you to use the Floo instead of walking through the dungeons."

"All right." Harry changed direction, moving towards the fireplace, when he stopped and turned back. "Severus? What about Ron and Hermione? Are they in danger when they come down here?"

"I doubt it," Severus answered. "You and I are the primary targets, I'm afraid. And it's not all the Slytherins, Harry. It's not even most of them. Most of them are very nice children. It's unfortunate that Slytherin House also attracts those who are drawn to Voldemort's propaganda."

But Harry was still worrying about his friends. "Are you sure Ron and Hermione will be all right? Because the Slytherins who don't like me, don't like them too much, either."

Severus reached for his wand and conjured a small bag, which he handed to Harry.

"Take some extra Floo powder for your friends, if it worries you," he said. "Although I do hope the three of you will work out a schedule for their visits and let me know ahead of time. I don't want Weasley and Granger just showing up at any hour of the day."

"You don't really hate them, though. Do you, Severus?"

"Perhaps they're not quite as bad as I originally thought. Perhaps," Severus answered in a dry tone. "Now that's the most you're getting out of me, Harry." He turned back to his stack of parchment.

Harry grinned and helped himself to the Floo powder, scooping a generous amount into the bag and then starting to get a pinch for himself. But before he could step into the fireplace, there was a knock on the door to the outside corridor. Harry paused, wanting to know who it was.

Severus went to the door, and peered through a tiny peephole. Then he opened it to admit the headmaster.

Dumbledore came in, greeting them both cheerfully. "Thank you, Severus. Good morning, Harry. Are the two of you enjoying your Saturday?"

"Yes, sir," Harry smiled.

Severus nodded. "It's been pleasant enough, thank you, Albus."

"Good, good." Noticing Harry standing at the fireplace, Dumbledore said, "I'm glad I caught you, Harry. Do you remember when I fetched you from Privet Drive this past summer, I mentioned the two of us having some private lessons this year?"

"Yes, sir." Harry tried not to sound too eager, but he had been wondering when Dumbledore would start these lessons. With Voldemort after him, Harry thought he needed all the help he could get if he were going to survive.

"If it's convenient for you, I would like to have our first lesson this evening at 8:00. And Harry, I didn't suggest it at the time, but I think a lot has changed between you and Severus since then. I would like for the both of you to attend these lessons." Dumbledore looked over at the professor. "If you're agreeable, Severus."

Severus nodded. "Very well, Albus."

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed at them. "That was my main purpose in coming, but Severus, if you should happen to have a little of my Elixir handy, I believe I might need another dose."

"I have some in my office, Albus," Severus motioned for the headmaster to lead the way into the back. "Are you going to be with your friends all afternoon, Harry?"

"Yes, I thought I'd stay and eat dinner with them in the Great Hall, and then meet up with you there. If that's all right?" Harry asked.

Severus nodded. "That's fine. Be sure to take your mirror with you, and I'll see you in the Great Hall at dinner time."

"Have a pleasant afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore added. "I'll see you this evening."

"Thanks, sir. Good-bye." And Harry stepped into the fireplace and threw down the Floo powder as he called, "Gryffindor Common Room!"

***

Ron and Hermione were the only ones in the common room. The other Gryffindors had headed down for lunch, or were outside enjoying the nice weather and the free time.

When the Floo tossed him out onto the soft rug covering the floor, Ron and Hermione jumped up in surprise. They'd been seated at a table near the door, playing chess. Now they came hurrying over.

"Harry! We thought you'd come through the door. I didn't know students were allowed to use the Floo," Hermione exclaimed.

Harry climbed back to his feet and grinned at them. "Well, I don't think we are normally, but I had Severus' permission. He actually wants me to use the Floo. You guys can use it, too, at least when you come down to see me. Here, I brought you some Floo powder." He handed them the little bag and Hermione went to slip it into her school bag, which lay on the floor by the table where they'd been. Hermione's bag was never very far from her.

They settled themselves on the sofa and Harry explained why they had permission to Floo between Gryffindor Tower and the dungeons. Then Ron and Hermione wanted to know how Severus had reacted after their Potions class yesterday. Harry assured them that everything had been all right, and then they wandered down into the Hall to eat stew and sandwiches for lunch.

They walked down to the lake and sat by the shore for a while, then headed back to the Tower and Harry got to visit with his other Gryffindor friends for a time. Then Hermione insisted she needed a book from the library before dinner so they went there. Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at each other while Hermione was checking it out, but Harry didn't really mind. He was used to Hermione by now. She had to make at least one visit to the library a day.

All in all, Harry was thinking it had been a great afternoon, just ordinary and fun, and he was looking forward to Dumbledore's lesson that evening. He was telling Ron and Hermione about it, but stopped abruptly as they entered the Great Hall at the same time that Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle came in.

"So you're Snape's new little pet, huh, Potter?" Draco sneered.

"Professor Snape and I are friends now," Harry answered evenly.

Draco's silver eyes narrowed menacingly as he stepped closer. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me, Potter. Better watch your step in the dungeons. You're on Slytherin ground there. It'd be a real shame if someone thought you were sneaking around and put a Body-Bind spell on you."

Harry could tell from the curl of his lip and the gleam in his eye, that Draco had mentioned the Body-Bind because he knew the Death Eaters had used it. Without even thinking, he drew his wand. A split second later, they all had their wands out.

Then a cool, smooth voice broke in. "I trust there's no problem here," Severus stepped in between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. He gave Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle a hard look. "I think you three had best head onto your table."

With a final sneer, Draco moved on, flanked by the other two Slytherins. Severus waited until they were out of earshot before turning on Harry and his friends.

"Have you no sense at all, you foolish child?"

Harry took a deep breath and realized his knees were shaky. He'd had plenty of confrontations with Draco before. It was the mention of the Body-Bind Spell, and the horrible memories it dragged up, that was so hard to deal with. He opened his mouth to explain, then closed it again, not sure if his voice was steady enough.

"But, sir, Malfoy threatened Harry," Ron spoke for him.

Severus sighed. "Are you all right, Harry? You look a bit shaken."

"I'm fine," Harry said, relieved to hear that his voice sounded normal.

"Did he threaten to hurt you?"

Harry hesitated, "Not really," he had to admit. "He threatened to put a Body-Bind Spell on me. But he said it because he knows what those Death Eaters did."

Severus' hand settled on his shoulder. "It's all right," he said softly. "Stay with your friends and keep the mirror with you, Harry. You won't be wandering around the dungeons, so there's no way that Draco or any of the others can hurt you. We're going to be very careful, I promise."

Then he stared hard at all three of them. "Now, Draco may have made the first move, but Hogwarts' rules are clear. Any students involved in hexing others are to be held responsible for their actions. Believe it or not, I have no desire to put the three of you in detention this year. But if you are fighting with other students in front of me, you'll leave me no choice. Either avoid Draco and his cronies, or tell me or another professor if he makes any more threats."

It was Harry's turn to sigh. "Severus...um, Professor Snape? What should I call you now?"

"Severus, as it's only the four of us right here."

"Well, Severus, you know we can't go running to a professor to tattle. I'd rather have the detention."

Severus shook his head. "Gryffindors," he muttered, then said, "Well, try to avoid them, then. Now go on and have your dinner. I was thinking we might have time for a short Occlumency lesson, too, before we meet with Albus."

After dinner Harry said good-bye to his friends, and he and Severus went back to the little side chamber off the Great Hall to Floo back to their rooms. Once there, Severus walked over to a corner cabinet and poured himself a drink. Glancing back at Harry, he asked, "Would you like a butterbeer?"

Harry nodded. He almost wished he hadn't agreed to attempt Occlumency again. Last year's lessons had been just awful. But it would be different this time, he reminded himself. He still might not be any good at it, but Severus wouldn't mentally attack or belittle him now. He knew that much. Maybe that little scene in Potions class had helped him, after all.

The professor came over and handed him his glass. "Don't be nervous," he said quietly.

Harry was glad that he could smile at Severus and say honestly, "I'm not."

The corners of Severus' lips turned up. "Good." He motioned to the sofa. "Well, let's sit down."

They sipped their drinks and after a few minutes of companionable silence, Severus began, "Now, whether we work on Occlumency or not is entirely up to you, Harry. As you know, Albus believes you will be perfectly safe from the Dark L...Voldemort entering your mind again, that it was such a painful experience for him, not to mention being a complete failure, that Voldemort is extremely unlikely to repeat it."

"Thank goodness," Harry shivered at the memory.

Severus looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sure it was horrible for you, too."

"Yeah, it was," Harry answered. "It hurt worse than anything I've ever felt, even more than the Cruciatus curse hurts. I really wanted to die, just so it would stop. But at least it only lasted a little while. Then he was gone."

Severus reached over and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Harry. But I can't help being curious about how you managed to drive him out."

"I don't know that I actually drove him out," Harry admitted slowly, trying to think back to those agonizing, confused moments when Voldemort had tried to conquer his soul. "It was more like he gave up and left."

"That's a miracle in itself," Severus told him. "Voldemort is known to be quite tenacious when he wants something."

"Well, it was like he was in me, and he'd just told Dumbledore to kill me. Actually, I think I was speaking, but it was really him. He was taking me over for a few minutes. Dumbledore said Voldemort was trying to trick him, to make him think he could kill Voldemort by killing me. But Dumbledore wasn't falling for it, and then I thought, the part of my mind that was still me, that I wanted to die so the pain would stop. Then I thought that if I died, I could be with Sirius again."

It still hurt to think of Sirius, and Harry had to swallow before finishing huskily. "And then I was thinking about Sirius and Ron and Hermione, and all the people I love. Then Voldemort was just gone."

"Albus said you were so good, so compassionate and loving, that Voldemort could not bear to remain within you," Severus murmured. "Power the Dark Lord knows not. Albus has said for years that that power is love."

He raised an eyebrow and his tone turned sardonic. "At which point I have always remarked that he'd finally gone senile. But it looks as if he may be right, after all."

"I was kind of hoping for something a bit more tangible," Harry admitted. "You know, some kind of power that could get rid of him, something really strong."

Severus shook his head and his tone was drier than ever. "Harry, I am the last person in the world to wax sentimental over the power of love..."

"Not the last," Harry couldn't help but grin a little bit. "Voldemort would be the last."

"Be that as it may," Severus conceded. "Nonetheless, Albus is wiser than the rest of us at Hogwarts put together, and if he says that love is your great and mysterious power, then it is quite possible that love will play some part in defeating your nemesis." An inexplicable expression of sadness came over his face. "After all, it was your mother's love that defeated him the first time."

Harry wondered about that expression. Why would Severus look so grieved at the mention of Lily Potter? He almost asked, but something stopped him and instead another question rose to his lips.

"Do you really think I can win against him, then?"

Severus considered him, and Harry held his breath, waiting, wanting the answer and yet desperately fearing it, too. He didn't want Severus to tell him a comforting lie, as if he were a child who couldn't face the truth. But if Severus didn't think he could win...well, Harry didn't want to hear that either.

But Severus was nodding. "Yes, Harry. I believe you will win. I have no idea how, but you have proven yourself courageous, resourceful, and talented under the most extreme circumstances. When the time comes, you will be successful."

Still, Harry was troubled. There was one more question he had to ask, although again, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer. Maybe he shouldn't even ask, but it preyed upon his mind, and there was no one else he could trust to give him an honest reply.

"Do you think I'll survive?"

There was no hesitation at all this time. "Yes."

"You do?" Harry himself had doubts about it. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because I'm not going to lose you, too!" Severus said fiercely.

Harry blinked, not sure how to respond, and Severus took a deep breath, looking a little ill at ease. He reached for his glass on the table and drained it before setting it aside again.

When he turned back to Harry, he was calm again. "Well, we've certainly strayed far from my original point, which was that we don't have to study Occlumency unless you want to. You're not in danger of being possessed."

"But it would help with my nightmares?"

"I think so," Severus answered. "It has helped me. But Harry, you should realize, that even if you become a master Occlumens, it doesn't mean that you will never have another nightmare. You just won't have them as often."

"Well, since I'm having them almost every night right now, not as often sounds pretty good," Harry told him.

"Very well, then. Relax, lean back against the sofa, and focus only on your breathing. Close your eyes if you need to, and just breathe in and out," Severus said, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll just do that for a little while."

Harry set his half-empty glass of butterbeer on the table and did as Severus instructed. Letting himself sag against the sofa cushions, he thought only of the rhythm of his breathing. In, out, in, out. At first other thoughts kept flitting into his mind, but he dismissed them and tried to keep focused on breathing. In, out, in, out.

After a while, he felt as if he were about to fall asleep, and he opened his eyes and tried to sit up straight. Severus shook his head and placed a hand on Harry's chest, gently pushing him back against the warm, comfortable cushions.

"You're doing fine," he murmured.

"I'm about to go to sleep," Harry protested.

"And I think you would be unlikely to have a nightmare right now," Severus continued to speak in a slow, soft tone, barely above a whisper. "You're relaxed; you're not worrying or remembering bad experiences. Being in a peaceful state of mind is important."

"It's that easy?" Harry asked. "If I just do this, it'll help stop my nightmares? Most of the time, anyway?"

"It might, at first," Severus answered. "Probably not so much in the long run. This is not true Occlumency, you realize. This is just the first small step. Relaxing and clearing your mind of distracting thoughts."

"What's the next step?"

"Learning to build a wall around your secret thoughts," Severus said. "Then you have to keep the wall intact while someone enters your mind. At first, you can be prepared for it; then you learn to do it even when the intrusion is unexpected or occurs simultaneously with other events."

Seeing Harry's expression, he smiled. Or at least, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards, which Harry had learned was about as close to a smile as Severus ever came. "We will work on simply relaxing and clearing your mind for a time yet."

Harry nodded. "I know I'm really bad at this. It can't be any fun for you trying to teach me. I'm sorry."

Now it was Severus' turn to sit up straight. He frowned. "Harry, what complete rubbish. I told you that you were doing fine, didn't I? I know we did poorly at this last year, but that was more my fault than yours."

Severus reached over to take Harry's hand again, clasping it gently between his strong fingers as he spoke in a pained voice, struggling to admit his own failings aloud.

"I...didn't want to teach you last year. I resented Albus' throwing us together, and I...resented you. I didn't know you then, Harry. Not the real you. I saw only what I wanted to see, and I failed you. I made those lessons unpleasant and humiliating. Of course they were doomed from the start. In retrospect, I cannot blame you for not practicing or caring about them. I can't even blame you for looking in my Pensieve. After all, I stole your worst memories first."

Harry had known all that before, at least the part about Severus resenting him and not wanting to teach him. He wondered why it still hurt to hear it aloud. But he looked at the professor's hands holding his, and the pain eased. He had to say, "Not my worst memories. Not the very worst ones."

"What I saw seemed bad enough," Severus replied softly.

Harry thought of some of the things he had somehow managed to hide...living in the cupboard, being starved for food whenever the Dursleys decided he didn't deserve to eat, Uncle Vernon beating him with a belt across his back the time Dobby had ruined the dinner party with the Masons...

Thinking about those things caused a painful, aching lump to come to his throat. He told himself he was stupid to care so much, even now. The Dursleys had always hated him, and always would, and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't even want to do anything about it anymore, did he?

But there had been a time, long ago, when he'd have done anything if only he could have earned their love and been a part of the family for real, instead of being only an unwanted burden that they despised and feared.

Harry didn't realize that tears were sliding down his cheeks until Severus reached to gently brush them away. He pulled Harry close and wrapped his arms around him.

"Shh, child. They won't hurt you again, I promise." Then he paused as if realizing that he didn't know for certain why Harry was crying, and perhaps fearing that it was over the past Occlumency lessons, added painfully, "I won't hurt you again, either."

Harry leaned against him, the side of his face resting against Severus' chest. "I was thinking about the Dursleys," he said in a small voice. "I told you they never wanted me. They're really afraid of magic, and they hate me because I'm a wizard. Course when I was little, I didn't understand that. I just knew they were always angry with me, and I could never please them, no matter how hard I tried. Usually they'd find some way to twist everything around and make it look like I'd been bad so they could punish me. It was a really long time before I understood that it wasn't all my fault, that they were the ones who were messed up. I think it was being around the Weasleys that helped me see that."

"How did they punish you, Harry?" Severus asked softly.

Harry hesitated. He'd never told anyone the worst things the Dursleys had done. Ron and Hermione knew a little bit, but even they didn't know most of it. And he didn't think he could tell Severus all of it either. Not yet, at least. It was too painful, and he'd kept it to himself for so long, he couldn't just open up all at once.

But maybe he could tell Severus some of it. Severus had been mistreated as a child, too, after all, so he'd understand, wouldn't he?

"Sometimes, if I didn't finish all my chores, or if it wasn't done perfectly, they wouldn't let me eat for a few days," he admitted.

"A few days!" Severus sounded appalled.

"Well, usually only two, but once in a while it was three days, if they were really upset." Glancing up at Severus' face, Harry saw that his explanation hadn't helped the professor to calm down. Severus' face was a mask hiding his feelings, but his black eyes blazed with fury.

But that rage wasn't directed against him, Harry knew. Severus' arms kept holding him close, and Harry was nestled against him, warm and safe. He sighed and relaxed, feeling that lump in his throat slowly dissolve.

"And approximately how many times over the course of the summer did you go without food for two or three days at a stretch?" Severus asked, and his voice was quiet and dangerous.

"Um, I'm not sure, actually," Harry murmured. "Maybe once a week or so. Sometimes more, or less."

Severus had to take several deep breaths before speaking again. "Were you at least allowed to have normal meals during the times you could eat?"

Harry's hesitation seemed to be all the answer the professor needed. He began to swear at the Dursleys in a cold, furious tone. Harry had never imagined Severus losing control enough to swear, but he did enjoy hearing some of the creative terms the professor came up with. In spite of everything, he found himself smiling as he looked up at Severus again.

"Can I borrow some of those phrases?" He asked when Severus finally seemed to run out of words.

Severus took a few more deep breaths, and then raised an eyebrow at Harry. "You may when you're thirty-six."

The clock on the mantel chimed, startling them both.

"Well, I suppose we should head on to Albus' office," Severus remarked. He looked back down at Harry. "If you feel up to it, that is. If you'd rather, I can explain to Albus that we've had an emotionally-draining evening already and see if he could meet with us at another time."

But Harry shook his head. "I'm all right, Severus, and I'd really like to see what Dumbledore is going to teach me. Or us, rather. But thanks."

"You're welcome, Harry. And it's Professor Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry agreed as Severus stood and offered him a hand up. He let Severus pull him to his feet and together they stepped into the fireplace. A moment later they were flying through the Floo to meet with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was waiting when Severus and Harry stepped out of the fireplace in his office.

"Severus, Harry, good evening," he smiled at them as he stood up from his chair behind the big mahogany desk by the window. He walked over, and patted each of them on the shoulder with his good hand. "Thank you both for coming. I must say how happy I am to see the two of you getting along better."

He beamed at them. Harry smiled back, and Severus nodded.

"Not to mention," Dumbledore continued, "that I believe it will be to our advantage to have these...ah, lessons, I suppose, for lack of a better word...together. Three minds are better than one, you know."

Harry grinned. "That's what Ron and Hermione and I always say, too."

"And rightly so. Well, gentlemen, I believe we'll just jump right into the session, and perhaps afterwards, discuss our findings."

Harry frowned slightly. He'd imagined these private lessons with Dumbledore focusing on advanced magic, complicated defensive spells and such. But it didn't exactly sound as if that was what the headmaster had in mind, and sure enough, Dumbledore didn't look as if he were preparing to teach a dueling lesson. He had stepped over to a table with a shallow stone basin atop it and was motioning for Harry and Severus to join him.

Severus seemed puzzled as well, but he stepped over to the table. "Albus, is that your..."

"Pensieve, yes," Dumbledore said. He took a small bottle from the pocket of his robes and used his wand to open it. Then he tipped its misty silver contents into the basin. "We're going to take a look at history tonight, at a certain meeting which took place more than fifty years ago, between a Mr. Bob Ogden and the Gaunt family. Does the name ring a bell, Severus?"

"No," Severus slowly shook his head. "Should it?"

"No, I didn't really expect it would," Dumbledore glanced back at Harry. "Harry, are you coming?"

Harry nodded, and joined his two mentors, though he couldn't help looking at the Pensieve a little apprehensively. The last time he had been in a Pensieve had been informative, but very unpleasant, and he had violated Severus' privacy terribly.

Severus must have guessed what he was thinking. The professor didn't say anything, but he did reach over and take Harry's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as the three of them bent over the Pensieve. A moment later all three had disappeared into the memories of the past, taking the first steps towards learning how to defeat the greatest Dark wizard of the age.

***

Harry lay in his bed that night, his mind replaying the scenes from Dumbledore's Pensieve. It was late, but he couldn't stop seeing the Gaunts: Marvolo and Morfin, both so disheveled and dirty, their ugly faces filled with arrogance and hate, almost like clones except for Marvolo being a good bit older. And Merope, so hopeless and cowed, so desperate for love that she resorted to trickery and deception, ensnaring Tom Riddle into marrying her.

Voldemort's mother, uncle, and grandfather.

Harry shuddered. He hated Voldemort...of course he did, for all the suffering and grief the Dark wizard had caused. And yet, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of unwilling sympathy when he thought of how Merope had just given up on life after her husband had left her, not caring enough for her newborn baby to try to live for him. What if she had? What if she had lived and raised her son, instead of leaving him to grow up in that grim orphanage? Would it have made any difference?

The clock in the living room chimed, and Harry wondered what time it was. He was probably going to be very tired tomorrow, but right now he simply wasn't sleepy. With a sigh, he slipped out of bed and went to close the door between his room and Severus'. He might as well sit up and read for a bit, but he didn't want the light to wake the professor.

But as it turned out, Severus wasn't asleep either. When Harry started to close the door, he heard a whispered "Lumos," and an instant later a low light flared. Harry could see Severus sitting up and looking at him, obviously wide awake.

"Harry? Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I just can't sleep."

"Apparently, the condition is contagious," Severus said dryly. He climbed out of bed and reached for his dark green robe lying on the nearby armchair. Pulling it on over his pajamas, he shook his head. "Harry, you're shivering. Where is your robe?"

It was pretty cool and he was shivering, Harry suddenly realized. Of course, he had planned on getting right back into bed, though, so he hadn't bothered to put on his own robe over his lightweight pajamas.

"Umm," he motioned vaguely back into his room.

"Accio Harry's robe!" Severus called, flicking his wand, and Harry's robe, the one Severus had given him weeks ago, flew off the end of Harry's bed and into his arms.

"Slippers, too," Severus ordered, as he stepped into his own slippers.

"Yes, Dad," Harry remarked dryly. He had been joking, but for some reason, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt his heart jump. Severus must have felt something, too, for he froze and he and Harry stared at each other. Harry wasn't sure what he saw in Severus' black eyes, but he was afraid he might have gone too far. He quickly turned away and hurried to find his slippers.

Severus used the Floo to order cocoa from the kitchens and within minutes two mugs resting on saucers had appeared. Harry and Severus settled on the living room sofa to sip their drinks. Harry's saucer had a little pouch of marshmallows on it and he dropped a few into his cocoa before offering the rest to Severus.

"Do you want any?"

The professor shook his head and eyed Harry's mug disapprovingly. "Cocoa is plenty sweet enough on its own. How do you stand that cloying mixture?"

Harry grinned and sprinkled the remaining marshmallows into his cocoa. "It's good."

Severus just raised an eyebrow and shook his head again.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think about those memories Dum...Professor Dumbledore showed us tonight?"

Severus considered. "I think Albus has gone to great trouble, and probably considerable danger, to gather information about Voldemort. You noticed, at the end of our discussion, Albus was careful to point out certain characteristics of Voldemort's that were obvious even at a young age...his scorn for anything that connected him to others, his tendency to collect little souvenirs as reminders of his bullying conquests. I'm not sure yet how this will help us, but I do know that learning as much as we can about Voldemort could lead us to a weakness, a vulnerability that we may be able to exploit."

Harry nodded. At first, he had wondered why Dumbledore was showing them memories from the past instead of working with him on dueling, or some strategy that would defeat Voldemort, but after giving the matter more thought, he'd come to see what Severus had pointed out: that information about Voldemort could lead to knowing his weaknesses.

He didn't understand what those weaknesses might be yet, either, but surely there must be something. Dumbledore was far too clever not to have a reason for what he was doing.

"Severus, if Merope had lived, do you think it would have made any difference? In Voldemort, I mean?"

"You mean, is there a chance he might not have become the sadistic sociopath that he is?" Severus asked.

"Yes."

Severus shrugged. "How can anyone know, Harry? The only way to answer that question would be to take a Time Turner, return to the past, and somehow convince Merope to take better care of herself and not give up her life. Since all the Time Turners are destroyed, no one will ever know for certain."

They were quiet a moment, then Severus added, "I do know one thing, though, Harry. And that is that Voldemort long ago reached an age where he is responsible for his own actions, and even if his family were louts and he grew up in a sad environment, he cannot begin to use those reasons as an excuse for his own monstrous behavior."

"Oh, I know," Harry agreed. He thought of his own parents, killed at Voldemort's hand, and mingled fury and grief almost choked him. He swallowed hard. "He deserves to be punished for all the people he's hurt and killed, and he's got to be stopped so he can't keep on doing it."

"I wish..." Harry's voice trailed off.

Severus looked at him, and then slid his arm around Harry's shoulders. "You wish what, Harry?"

"Sometimes I wish I didn't have to be the one who has to stop him," Harry admitted.

"I wish that, too, child," Severus said heavily. "I wish that, too."

They finished their cocoa in silence and set their mugs aside. Then Severus asked, "Do you think you can sleep now?"

"Maybe," Harry said. "Guess we should try to, anyway. It's pretty late."

They started back to their rooms. At his doorway, Harry paused and said awkwardly, "Um, Severus? I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I know you aren't...of course, you wouldn't want to be...I was just joking, you know. But I'm sorry."

Severus gave him a long, steady look, his expression unfathomable. But then he stepped close and rested his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"There is no reason to apologise, Harry," he said softly. He squeezed Harry's shoulder before heading back to his own bedroom.

Harry slipped back into his bed, burrowing down under the warm comforter, the scarlet and gold Gryffindor comforter Severus had conjured just for him. He realized tears were sliding down his cheeks, but he didn't know why. He didn't even know if they were tears of happiness or sorrow.

***

The next few weeks flew by.

Harry got caught up in his classes, and thanks to Severus' tutoring, he even began to grasp Golpalott's Laws. For the first time in his years at Hogwarts, he didn't dread Potions class. Severus kept his word, and didn't call on him. In fact, he rarely spoke to Harry in class at all, though he did sometimes nod approvingly at the potions Harry, Hermione, and Ron brewed. Though he still favored the Slytherins a bit, it wasn't quite as blatant as in the past, and he occasionally gave Gryffindor points or said, "Satisfactory work," in a crisp tone when one of the Gryffindors handed in a particularly well-written essay.

He and Harry continued to work on Occlumency, or at least the first steps of it, as Severus said. Harry became very good at learning to relax and clear his mind of distracting thoughts, although he had a lot more trouble trying to hide his secret thoughts behind a mental wall.

But Severus reassured him that it was a difficult process, and one that often took some time to learn. Harry tried not to get frustrated, but just kept working at it steadily. He practiced every night before sleeping, but it didn't seem to be helping his nightmares very much. Several times a week he woke sobbing with fear or grief, depending on whether he'd dreamed of Voldemort and Death Eaters, or Sirius.

But Severus was always there, holding Harry in his arms and speaking softly and soothingly until the worst had passed and Harry was calm enough to sleep again. He really didn't know what he would have done without Severus.

Dumbledore had scheduled another private lesson with Harry and Severus two weeks after their first one, but then had to cancel it. He told them in confidence that he would be away on Order business for a couple weeks, and they'd have to wait to meet again until he returned.

That also meant that Professor Slughorn took over Defense classes. He wasn't quite a wizard of Dumbledore's caliber, but then no one else really was. Slughorn was jovial and entertaining as a teacher...he liked to tell his classes about his memories and experiences, and could sometimes be distracted from assigning homework if a student asked an interesting question at just the right moment.

But he was talented and capable, too, no mistake about that. His plump form was surprisingly light and quick as he demonstrated spellwork, and Harry really felt that between Dumbledore and Slughorn, DADA classes were finally being taught as they should be.

The Dumbledore's Army group hadn't been able to meet yet, because between study groups, Harry's private lessons, and Quidditch practices, there just hadn't been an evening when everyone was free. They finally set a date for the first meeting on a Saturday towards the end of October.

That Saturday also happened to be the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and everyone was buzzing with excitement at the chance to leave the school grounds and spend the day visiting the shops in the nearby village. Well, everyone besides the first- and second-years who were too young to go.

And Harry.

"No, I definitely can't go," he told Ron and Hermione that Friday afternoon. Classes were over, and the three of them were walking by the shore of the lake and throwing chunks of bread to the giant squid. The weather was turning cold, and they wore their heavy winter cloaks over their school uniforms.

Ron's face clouded. "Are you sure, Harry? Can't Snape do something..."

But Harry shook his head. "No, we've talked about it all week. It's not his fault. He really tried to think of a way that would be safe for me, but in the end, we just had to admit that it's too dangerous for me to leave Hogwarts now."

"But what about a Portkey?" Ron wanted to know.

"Well, aside from the fact that Severus isn't authorized to create a Portkey and could get into trouble with the Ministry if anybody found out that he made one..."

"Even if that Portkey was to save you?" Ron demanded.

Harry shrugged. "The Ministry's so stupid. Who knows what they would do? Anyway, I don't want to risk causing Severus any trouble like that. Not just for me to visit Hogsmeade. It's not worth it."

He tore off a big piece of bread from the loaf Hermione was carrying and tossed to the giant squid, who caught it with a waving tentacle. Well, at least somebody was happy, Harry thought. He was trying not to feel sorry for himself, but life did seem awfully unfair sometimes.

"Come on, guys, it's not that big a deal." Hermione tried to cheer them up. "We've been to Hogsmeade plenty of times by now. We can have just as much fun here. Why don't we have a picnic lunch? We'll have fish and chips, and if it's nice we'll come out and eat by the lake, and if it's cold we'll eat in the Common Room."

Harry stopped and stared at them. "We?"

Ron and Hermione also stopped and faced him.

"Well, of course, Harry," Hermione said. "We said a long time ago that if you couldn't go on Hogsmeade trips, we'd stay with you."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. We haven't been exploring with the Marauders' Map in a while, either. Why don't we check out the east wing of the castle tomorrow after our picnic?"

Harry felt a slow grin spread across his face. Maybe life wasn't so bad, after all. "That sounds like fun."

***

Severus was in his office when Harry called good-bye to him the next morning. The professor left his work to come to the doorway.

"You're going to be with your friends then, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, it's cold so we're just going to be in the castle all day."

"Do you have your mirror?"

"Well, nobody's going to be around except the little kids," Harry began.

Severus frowned. "Trouble has a way of finding you, Harry. Take the mirror."

Harry heaved a big sigh as he went back to his room and dug the two-way mirror out of his school bag. Severus really was rather paranoid. But, it meant that he cared, and that meant a lot to Harry. So he didn't complain, but just slipped the mirror into his pocket.

He and Ron and Hermione took turns playing chess against one another in the morning; then ate their picnic lunch before the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Afterwards, when they were ready to go exploring, Harry pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket, causing the mirror to fall out as well.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, picking it up.

"Oh, it's that mirror I told you about," Harry explained, putting it back in his pocket. "The one Severus gave me. He insists that I keep it with me at all times."

"Well, that's not a bad idea," she replied.

Ron nodded solemnly. "Yeah. I'd hate to run into a group of first-years without having a way to call for help."

"Oh, I don't know," Harry pretended to be solemn, too. "We were pretty dangerous as first-years."

Ron laughed. "But we were one of a kind."

Hermione arched her eyebrows. "Actually, we were three of a kind."

"And we still are." Harry draped his arms around both their shoulders, and still laughing and joking, they headed out to explore the castle.

It was nearly dinner time when Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the east wing of the castle and headed down to the Great Hall. They were about to descend the staircase to the lobby and join some the other students trickling back from Hogsmeade when a cackling sound above made them look up just in time to see Peeves swooping overhead, his arms full of water balloons.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter and the other two dunderheads!" The poltergeist chortled.

"I am not a dunderhead!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly just as Peeves lobbed a balloon at her. It was so full of water that it drenched Harry and Ron as well.

"Peeves!" They all yelled together.

But Peeves just chortled wickedly and kept tossing balloons at them.

"Come on," Hermione grabbed both boys' arms and the three of them dashed back down the corridor and around a corner into a smaller, darker hallway. Peeves laughed, but gave up the chase and went zooming back towards the Great Hall, apparently to find some other students to harass.

Hermione sighed, swished her wand at Harry and Ron, then herself, and they were all warm and dry again.

"Urghh," Ron groaned. "Why can't Dumbledore get rid of that little monster?"

"Let's just go back," Harry sighed, and they turned to go back the way they'd come. But the hallway wasn't empty, as they had originally thought.

A girl stepped out of the shadows. She was tiny even for a first-year, almost frail-looking, with long blonde hair, a delicate little face with blue eyes, and she carried a small package wrapped in brown paper in her hands.

"Excuse me?" Her voice was timid.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped, and Hermione gave her a friendly smile. "Hello. Can we help you?"

The girl nodded and looked directly at Harry. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

He noticed her eyes were glassy, and hoped she wasn't going to be another Colin Creevy.

He almost denied it, but that was pointless. "Yeah, I am," he admitted after a moment.

Fortunately the little girl didn't seem to be too interested in Harry's fame, though.

"You know Professor Dumbledore, don't you?" Without waiting for an answer, she hurried on, her voice gaining strength as she thrust the parcel into Harry's hands.

"Would you mind doing me a favor? I'm supposed to give this to him, but I don't even know him, and he's the headmaster, and I'm afraid to. But you know him, so could you just give it to him for me? Thank you."

And before they could say anything, she'd taken off around the corner and disappeared.

"But Dumbledore's not even here right now," Ron called after her.

"He has been gone for two weeks though, so he should be back any time now," Harry remarked. He looked down at the package. "What should I do with this?"

"Keep it til Dumbledore gets back?" Ron suggested at the same time Hermione said, "Give it to Professor Snape and let him decide what..."

While they were speaking, Harry turned the parcel over.

Then everything went black.

***

Severus held the glass vial up to the light, and nodded slowly in satisfaction. He'd done it. He'd identified that final, mysterious ingredient in the poison that had almost killed Harry this past summer. At first, of course, he'd been focused entirely on healing the boy. But he had been working on the identification for several weeks now, even if only for a short while each day. The first step was to identify it. Now he could begin creating an anti-dote.

He carefully set the vial into a container and began clearing off the table. As he worked, he remembered those first days with Harry. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Thank goodness Harry was well again now. And thank goodness that he, Severus, had finally realized how wrong he'd always been about the child.

How could he have ever thought that Harry was spoiled and arrogant? Harry was one of the most insecure children he'd ever seen, what with his tendency to take blame even for things beyond his control, his doubts about his own abilities, and his need to apologise for everything.

Severus suspected Harry had a deep-seated belief that no one really liked him. Or that very few people did, anyway. It showed in the way he assumed that people would abandon him if there was a hint of anything going wrong.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley seemed to be the only two people that Harry really did trust to stand with him through thick and thin. Severus hoped that one day Harry would add him to that list, but he didn't think it had quite happened yet.

And that bothered him tremendously.

But to be fair, Granger and Weasley had been through thick and thin with Harry. They'd proven themselves time and again over the past five years, from confronting Death Eaters to little things like giving up their Hogsmeade trip to stay with Harry.

Severus had had less than three months to overcome years of misunderstandings and hostility. When he thought of how he'd mistreated the child so badly, he was amazed that Harry was willing to give him a chance at all.

Severus wanted to help Harry heal on the inside now. He just had to keep reminding himself that it would take time.

He was distracted from his musings by a knock on the outer door, and he left his office and went to see who was calling. A quick look through the peephole, and then he opened the door.

"Albus, I didn't realize you were back," he said as he motioned for Dumbledore to enter the living room.

The headmaster smiled. "I've only just returned, Severus. And a most fortunate journey it was, too. I received confirmation of my hypothesis. I wonder if you and Harry might be able to meet with me again after dinner?"

Severus nodded. "I'm free, Albus. I believe Harry has a meeting planned with your militant group that sprung up last year under Umbridge's nose..." Severus' lip curled in distaste when he remembered their odious guest from the Ministry. "But I'm sure he can re-schedule it."

Dumbledore considered, then shook his head. "No. Let Harry meet with his friends tonight. Goodness knows, I have to deny the poor child so much already. Let him have fun this once. Tomorrow will be soon enough for the war to intrude."

"Very well, then."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Severus, if you don't mind, I think I might need to take another dose of elixir."

"Of course." Severus led the way back to his office and prepared a cup of the life-giving elixir he kept ready for his friend and mentor. He watched in silence as Dumbledore drained the cup and handed it back to Severus with a smile.

"Thank you so much, Severus. I'm sure you already know, but I'm very grateful to you for all your hard work. I know this little potion is difficult and time-consuming for you. I can never repay you for your kindness and your efforts."

Severus was not prone to displaying emotions, but he found it difficult to speak just then. He found himself blinking fiercely and had to look away from Dumbledore's gentle gaze.

"Albus, that's just bloody ridiculous," his voice grated painfully in his throat. "I'm the one who is indebted to you. Who else would have believed in me and given me another chance at life?" Severus drew in a harsh breath. "I only wish I could do more."

"Severus, you've done plenty. For me, and for us all," Dumbledore said softly.

A brief silence fell, a silence that was abruptly broken by Hermione Granger's screaming.

"Professor Snape! Can you hear me?! Please, oh, please," she sobbed.

Severus' blood turned to ice. For a split second, he was frozen, unable to move. Then he yanked his own two-way mirror from the pocket of his robe, so roughly that he ripped the pocket out, he discovered later. Granger's face, tear-streaked and white as death, was reflected in it. Severus couldn't see the boys, but he could hear horrible screams and Weasley's voice shouting in the background.

"What's wrong?" He demanded.

"It's Harry. He's been cursed, I think. We're on the second floor, close to the stairs by the lobby. A little side corridor," She looked around wildly. "There's a portrait of a Quidditch team on the wall."

"I know where they are," Dumbledore moved so fast he was at the living room fireplace, getting Floo powder before Granger had finished speaking.

"We're coming!" Severus told her as he ran to join Dumbledore.

A minute later he leaped out of a fireplace in a small nondescript room, Dumbledore right behind him. Severus could see them through the open doorway, and he and Dumbledore sprinted through it together.

Harry lay on the ground, screaming and convulsing. His glasses had fallen off, and his green eyes stared sightlessly into space. He did not seem to be aware of any of them, but Severus dropped to his knees beside him and called his name anyway.

"It's no use, sir. He doesn't know us," Weasley panted. He was kneeling on the ground and trying to hold Harry still, but with no success.

"Severus!" It was Dumbledore's voice and it was uncharacteristically harsh, forcing Severus to turn his attention from Harry.

"He must have touched that." Dumbledore was crouched a short distance away, with Granger, pointing at an opal necklace that lay partially displayed in a torn paper bag. "We need to stop the curse from spreading. Severus, I need you to help me now."

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but Severus dragged in a painful breath and forced away the fear bubbling inside him. He nodded, drew his wand, and began incanting the spells that would stop the Dark magic from destroying Harry's body and mind.

By now the noise had drawn a crowd of students and several professors as well.

"Stay back!" Dumbledore ordered, still speaking in that unusually stern tone. "And don't touch this necklace! Filius, clear the hall, please."

He drew his own wand and joined Severus in trying to save Harry. After a few moments, Harry's eyes rolled back in his head, his screams abruptly ceased, and he fell completely limp. Ron and Hermione, clutching each other's hands, drew back a few steps to stay of the way. But when Professor Flitwick came to try to shoo them downstairs, they shook their heads at him.

"Please, sir," Hermione whispered. "We won't interfere."

"We have to stay," Ron said softly. "Please, Professor. Let us stay."

Flitwick hesitated, but then nodded, and patted their shoulders. He joined them, standing and watching in silent fear as Severus and Dumbledore fought to save Harry's life.

None of them knew how much time passed before Albus was finally able to perform a diagnostic spell, and say quietly, "I believe it would safe to move Harry now, don't you, Severus?"

Severus could only nod shakily. He carefully lifted the boy in his arms and stood while Albus continued, "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, you may come with us, if you'd like. Filius, thank you for your help, and please tell the rest of the professors that I'm calling an emergency meeting tonight at ten, in the staff room."

"Yes, Albus." Professor Flitwick's kind face was creased with anxiety. "Will Harry be all right?"

"He will live," Albus replied. He went back to where the opal necklace lay on the floor, still partially concealed in the paper bag, and conjured a cloth out of the air. Being very careful not to touch the necklace itself, he wrapped the cloth around it and picked it up.

Severus carried Harry back through the small room he and Dumbledore had come through, back to the fireplace where they could Floo home. Albus was right; Harry would live, but that didn't mean that his recovery would be quick or easy. Severus clenched his teeth helplessly, feeling that they were caught in a recurring nightmare. Harry had just been through this already. Why did it always have to be so hard for him?

But he would live. That was the important thing...the only thing that really mattered. They could get through the rest together.

Severus became aware that Albus and the other two children were behind him, waiting for him to take Harry on through the Floo. He stepped into the fireplace and called, "My rooms," as Albus tossed in a handful of Floo powder.

Severus had that strong sense of déjà vu again as he took Harry back to his room and laid him on the bed. He gently removed Harry's shoes and transfigured his clothes into pajamas. Then he tucked the blue quilt around the boy's shoulders and looked up to see Albus, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley hesitating in the doorway.

"I put him back in my room so I could be close to him while I work in my office," Severus explained, a little defensively.

Albus nodded, "You took excellent care of Harry before, Severus. I know you will again." He and Severus ran through some more diagnostic spells; then Albus looked at Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. "Harry is out of danger. He'll live, as I told Professor Flitwick, but he is greatly weakened and it will likely be a week or more before he regains consciousness."

"A week at the minimum," Severus murmured, carding his fingers through Harry's hair and trying not to think how close he'd come to losing the child.

"We need to know exactly what happened," Albus went on. "Why don't we all go sit down in the living room, and you can tell us how Harry came to touch a cursed object."

He didn't want to leave Harry alone, although Albus was right that the boy was out of danger, and there really wasn't anything else that Severus could do for him at the moment. And they did need to find out what had happened, and how.

Severus rested his hand on Harry's head for another minute. "I'll be right back," he whispered, even though he knew Harry couldn't hear him. Then he followed the others into the living room.

The two children were sitting side by side on the sofa, pale and frightened-looking. Albus was across from them in an armchair, and he'd pulled another chair close for Severus.

He sat and glared fiercely at Weasley and Granger. "How did this happen?!"

"We...we were going downstairs for dinner," Granger began. She told them the story until it came to the part where the little girl had given the parcel to Harry. Then she broke down, weeping quietly into the handkerchief the Weasley boy pulled from his pocket and gave to her. He finished the tale.

"Harry turned the package over, and then he just froze for an instant. Then he started to rise up in the air; Hermione and I grabbed his ankles and tried to pull him back down, but we couldn't. We were calling to him and asking what was wrong, but I don't think Harry even knew we were there. His eyes were closed, and it was almost like he was unconscious or something."

"How long did this last?" Albus interrupted.

Weasley shook his head. "Not long, maybe a minute, probably not even that long. Then all at once, Harry's eyes flew open, but I don't think he saw us or the hallway. I don't know what he saw, but he began screaming. And at the same time, he fell, and then he was convulsing, and screaming all the time. It was horrible. I was trying to hold him still, but I couldn't, and Hermione thought to grab the mirror from Harry's pocket...the one you gave him, sir." He looked at Severus.

"Was Harry holding the necklace while all this was happening?" Dumbledore asked.

Weasley and Granger looked at each other, then slowly shook their heads.

"I think he dropped it right away," Weasley said.

"What in hell were you idiots thinking? To touch something from a stranger! It could have been a Portkey! It could have taken Harry straight to Voldemort! He could be dead right now! He came within a hairsbreadth of dying as it is!" Severus exploded at them. He was shaking with fury. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been so angry. They should have known. Harry had almost died, because of them.

"Severus! What happened to Harry is not their fault." Albus' voice was still quiet, but as sharp as broken glass. "You know all the safety precautions we've taken. The necklace shouldn't have been inside the school to start with. You yourself put up the anti-Portkey spells. We need to figure out how this necklace was smuggled into Hogwarts, and whether it was intended for Harry or me. But Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are not to blame."

Severus looked over at Hermione Granger, still sobbing softly, and Ron Weasley, who had an arm around her shoulders now, and looked torn between fear, anger, and shame. Severus felt a trickle of guilt as he acknowledged Albus' words, but he could only nod once and turn away. His fear was too raw for him to do any more.

"Harry will be all right, won't he?" Weasley asked, looking between Severus and Albus.

"Yes, I do expect him to make a full recovery, although, as I said earlier, it may take a little time," Albus explained. "You see, there are different types of Dark magic and this necklace causes a different kind of curse than what Harry suffered this summer."

"This summer we were able to treat Harry with salves and potions. This time, Severus and I were able to expel the Dark magic with spells of our own, but not before it attacked and damaged Harry's magical core. I'm afraid he'll be weakened by it, for a time anyway.

Albus managed to give them a gentle smile. "But he'll regain his full strength within a few weeks, so there's no reason for tears, Miss Granger. Indeed, I need the both of you to do me a great favor. Not for me, really, but for Harry. You've done a fine job recounting the experience, but I need to see what happened. Professor Snape and I need to see if we recognize the child who gave Harry the necklace, at the very least. Will you allow me to take you to my office and put your memories into a Pensieve?"

Granger and Weasley nodded. Albus turned back to Severus. "Severus, I'll return shortly. I'm going to leave the necklace here for now, if that's all right with you. We'll decide how to dispose of it later."

Severus nodded. He watched as they all stood and went over to the fireplace. The trickle of guilt he felt swelled as he noted the two children's guilty, haunted faces. Albus was right....it wasn't their fault...and Severus knew it. It was just that he'd been so afraid, and he'd lashed out at the nearest people available.

But he had to stop that. Lashing out was what his own parents had done... what Severus himself had done for years... and how many innocent people had suffered because of it?

Perhaps the children had been a little reckless, but Hogwarts should have been safe from such a dangerous object. It wasn't their fault that someone had managed to smuggle the necklace inside.

And they were good friends to Harry. They had loved him long before Severus did.

Something made him say roughly, "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, this is not your fault. I...apologise."

They gaped at him before Albus guided them into the fireplace and the three of them Flooed away.

As soon as they were gone, Severus went back to Harry. He sat on the side of the bed and gently stroked his hair back from his forehead. Severus ran a fingertip lightly over the lightning-bolt scar on Harry's forehead. It was usually hidden by the boy's hair, but now it was visible and Severus felt ashamed when he remembered how many times he had jeered at Harry for his fame.

As if the child had wanted to be famous for an event that had led to his parents' deaths and had left him marked, in ways far beyond the mere physical scar.

Voldemort. It always came back to him, didn't it? He was the reason why Harry had suffered so much. He was the reason why Harry was gravely injured for the second time in three months. Voldemort had taken Lily from Severus. He would not take Harry, too.

Severus leaned close and said softly, "You're going to be all right, Harry. You're not alone anymore. You have people who lo...care for you, very much. We healed you before, and we'll do it again. You're going to be all right."

He wanted to do something for Harry, something to speed his recovery, or to make him more comfortable. But he couldn't think of anything else he could do, so he just sat on the bed beside Harry and held his hand and murmured reassurances.

Eventually, he heard the rush of the Floo again, and Albus' voice, calling him.

"I'm in here," Severus replied wearily.

Albus came back to the bedroom, a Pensieve floating in the air behind him.

"How is Harry?" Albus asked, though Severus knew that Albus knew there wasn't likely to be any change in the boy's condition.

"The same." Severus looked down at Harry's thin face and closed eyes, and suddenly there was a lump in his throat. He hadn't cried since the day he'd discovered that Lily had been killed, and now he'd come close to it twice in the same evening.

Albus further undid him by placing his left hand on Severus' shoulder and saying, "Harry will be fine, Severus. We got to him in time."

"I know," Severus swallowed hard and turned to look pointedly at the Pensieve. It would be best if he distracted himself before he became any more maudlin.

Fortunately, Albus took the hint and indicated the stone basin. "Shall we?"

Severus nodded, and a moment later, they had disappeared into its depths.

***

"Did you recognize the girl?" Albus asked a short while later. They had been through both Weasley's and Granger's memories and were sitting in the bedroom with Harry, discussing the event. Severus was back beside Harry, while Albus had taken the dark blue armchair in the corner.

"Yes. She's one of mine, a first-year named Elizabeth Stone," Severus stared at his hands and struggled to remind himself that it wasn't likely to be the girl's fault. She was barely eleven years old, and was much more apt to be a pawn used by others more worldly and wise.

"What do you know of her?"

Severus sighed. "I don't know the first-years as well as the others, of course. But from what I've observed and heard, she seems like a nice child, well-mannered and industrious. She does well in her classes and gets along with others. She even has friends among the first-years in other Houses."

"She doesn't seem the type of child who would willingly go along with a plan to harm another?"

"I don't think so, though I suppose anything is possible," Severus admitted.

"That's my impression as well," Albus agreed. "I would guess that she had no idea what a dangerous object she was passing along. It's also possible that someone was imitating her by Polyjuice Potion, or she was placed under the Imperious Curse."

"The girl is too young to leave school grounds," Severus pointed out. "If she was Imperioused, then it had to happen here. Assuming we can rule out the professors, how many students are capable of performing the Imperious Curse?"

"I imagine there are a few," Albus mused. "Miss Stone bears some resemblance to the Malfoys, does she not?"

"Her mother and Lucius are cousins," Severus told him. "But I believe the two families are not particularly close. She and Draco have mostly ignored one another since term began."

"Well, in any case, I believe my next task is to interview Miss Stone," Albus glanced at his watch and stood. "I should have just enough time before the staff meeting. Of course, you're excused from that, Severus. You know what's going on, and I know you'll want to be with Harry."

He hesitated and added. "Try not to worry, Severus. Harry will be fine. I'll come down again tomorrow, and you and I can make plans to keep him safe and well."

He patted Severus' shoulder and then he was gone.

The first thing Harry was aware of was a hand resting lightly on his brow, its strong fingers softly rubbing back and forth across his temple. Then almost at the same time, he realized that he was lying on a bed, with warm blankets tucked around him, and that there was a low voice speaking close by. Harry couldn't quite make out the words, but the tone was soothing. And familiar.

Severus' voice.

The gentle drone was almost enough to lull him back to sleep, but he wanted to see Severus even more, so he forced his eyes open and turned his head to look for the professor. Severus was sitting in a chair pulled close to Harry's bed, and was reading aloud from a book that was leaning against the arm of the chair. It didn't look too stable, but Harry supposed that there must some magical means of making it stay propped up and open to the right page.

"Severus?" He said, his voice coming out raspy and hoarse.

The professor jumped slightly, then immediately set the book aside and leaned close to Harry. Without his glasses, everything was a little blurry, but even so, Harry could see the relief on Severus' face.

"You're awake," Severus took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "How do you feel?"

Harry considered. "Like a herd of hippogriffs have trampled over me," he admitted. He tried to say it with a wry grin, but it was hard. He really did feel bruised and sore and achy.

"I can give you a pain-killing potion, but you shouldn't take it on an empty stomach," Severus told him. He took Harry's glasses from the night table and handed them to him. "Let me order you some lunch and then you can have the potion."

He rested his hand on Harry's cheek for a moment, before clearing his throat harshly and hurrying over to the fireplace to order some food from the kitchens.

He'd probably be back to having soft foods, Harry supposed as he slid his glasses on, since it seemed that he'd been ill or hurt or something. It was no surprise when Severus came back to the bed with a bowl of vegetable soup resting on a tray.

Severus' bed, too, Harry realized. He was back in Severus' bedroom again. He looked about, and felt a warm glow in his heart when he noted a cot to the other side of the bed. Severus hadn't even gone to the other bedroom to sleep. Obviously, he'd stayed right at Harry's side while Harry had been hurt, just like this past summer.

But what in the world had happened?

He started to ask, but Severus said, "Eat your soup, Harry, and I'll explain what we know. First, though, what is the last thing you remember?"

Harry thought about that while Severus helped him ease into a sitting position and settled the tray on his lap. "Umm, I think Ron and Hermione and I were exploring the castle, right? Instead of going into Hogsmeade? And then Peeves was chasing us...he'd been throwing water balloons at us...and we ended up in this little side hallway. There was a little girl, and she gave me a package for Dumbledore..." He leaned back against the pillows, feeling worn out.

Severus nodded. "Yes, her name is Elizabeth Stone, and she's a first-year Slytherin. As it turned out, Harry, that package contained a cursed object. A very deadly cursed object, an opal necklace. We believe there must have been a tiny rip in the paper, and as you held it, your fingers must have brushed against the necklace. We're very, very fortunate. If you had had any greater contact, you would have died, and even with our considerable skill, Albus and I couldn't have saved you."

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"Professor Dumbledore. And yes, he returned to Hogwarts just before your...incident, and thank goodness he did. I don't know if I could have saved you alone." Severus ran his hand over his face, suddenly looking pale and tired himself.

"Harry, eat, before your soup gets cold," he went on. "Anyway, your friends called me with the mirror...the one you always roll your eyes at taking with you," Severus felt he had to point out. "Albus was down here, and we managed to save you."

Harry took a bite of soup and swallowed. "How?"

"We expelled the Dark Magic with spells of our own. Since then, Albus has been attempting to figure out how the necklace was smuggled into Hogwarts. We think Miss Stone was put under the Imperius Curse, but we still don't know who did it, because whoever did also tampered with her memories."

Harry took a few more bites of his soup, trying to absorb the information. "But how did the necklace get inside Hogwarts? I thought there were supposed to be all kinds of safety precautions this year."

"There are," Severus answered grimly. "We don't know how the necklace was smuggled inside yet. But we're going to find out."

"This girl, Elizabeth Stone,...she doesn't remember anything about the necklace?" Harry asked.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "If she did, we'd be well on the way to figuring this little puzzle out, wouldn't we?"

Harry flushed and looked down.

Severus reached over to gently pat his arm. "I apologise, Harry. I didn't mean to sound like that. I suppose I'm more tired than I realized. You've been unconscious for eight days, and I've been sitting up with you most of the time."

Harry almost dropped his spoon. "Eight days? I've been unconscious for eight days? You know, I've spent more time this year in a coma than I have awake."

"A slight exaggeration, but it does demonstrate the need for even more drastic precautions." Severus hesitated, and Harry thought he looked as if he were going to say more, but then decided against it.

He'd already said enough to get Harry worried, though. ‘Drastic precautions' didn't sound good at all.

"What kind of drastic precautions are we talking about?" He wanted to know.

"It's nothing so terrible, Harry, so relax and finish eating," Severus said. "I still don't know everything myself. Albus and I are just trying to decide how to make sure that nothing like this happens again."

Severus waited and when Harry continued to stare at him, looking half worried and half intrigued, he motioned to the soup bowl. "Go on, then. Finish eating."

Harry did so, and then yawned. "That was good. I guess I was pretty hungry. Course I should be, after eight days without eating."

Severus set the tray on the table beside the bed. "Don't be silly, child. I gave you nutritive potions, you know. I'm not going to let you starve." He carded his fingers through Harry's hair before he took his wand and Summoned a bottle filled with a light blue liquid.

"Here, drink this. You'll feel better."

Harry took the vial and swallowed the potion. Almost at once, all his aches and pains vanished, but he could feel himself growing drowsy again, and he couldn't help frowning in exasperation. He'd just woken up. He didn't want to sleep again.

"It's all right, Harry. You're still weak from being cursed and you need the rest." Severus took Harry's glasses and set them on the table beside the empty soup bowl; then tucked the bedcovers around his shoulders.

"I'm going to lie down as well," Severus said, and for the first time Harry could hear a weary note in his voice. "But I've got a cot over there just beside the bed, so I'll be right here if you need anything."

Harry reached out from under the covers to take Severus' hand. "Thanks, Severus, for sitting with me while I was out. You didn't have to."

Severus gave his hand a light squeeze. "I wanted to. Now rest; we'll talk more later."

Harry nestled back under the bedcovers, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds as Severus lay on his cot and adjusted his own blankets. A sudden thought occurred to Harry. Severus had said he'd stayed with him for eight days.

"What ‘bout your classes, Severus?" He mumbled sleepily.

"Shh, Harry. We'll talk about it later." Severus' voice was a soft rumble, and Harry smiled a little. It was just so...wonderful to have someone who cared about him. It was wonderful to feel so warm and safe and happy.

Harry let himself drift off.

***

When he next awoke, he was alone, but he could hear voices in the living room. Severus and Dumbledore. Harry started to call to them, but before he could, there was the rush of the Floo, and then Severus came back through the doorway.

"Harry, I didn't realize you were awake," he commented.

"I just woke up," Harry told him.

Severus nodded. "Yes, if you'd woken up fifteen minutes ago, you'd have seen Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. They've been sitting with you when I meet with Albus, but I sent them up to the Great Hall for dinner. I'm sure they'll come again tomorrow, though."

At Harry's concerned expression, he added. "And I let them use the Floo to go straight to the Hall, so they're fine, Harry. There's no need to worry about them."

He studied Harry thoughtfully. "How do you feel? Do you need another pain-killing potion?"

"I think I'm all right for now," Harry said. "A little achy, but just barely."

Severus nodded again. "Right then. I'll order dinner, and afterwards we can discuss some of the plans Albus and I have come up with."

Dinner consisted of grilled salmon, rice, and vegetables. It was delicious, of course, and Harry thought gratefully that at least he could feed himself this time.

"You missed the Halloween Feast," Severus remarked while they were eating. "But I'm sure we can persuade the house elves to send you some cakes and other sweets to make up for it."

Harry shook his head. "S'okay. I don't care for Halloween very much."

For a second, Severus looked puzzled. Students didn't often turn down sweets from the Hogwarts' kitchens. But then his expression changed, and Harry knew he understood. Halloween was the anniversary of James and Lily Potter's deaths.

"Oh, yes, of course," Severus murmured. "I'm sorry, Harry." He was sitting beside the bed again, and he reached over to pat Harry's arm.

Harry just nodded, and they finished the meal in silence.

Once Severus had sent their plates back to the kitchens, he sat back down, facing Harry and said soberly.

"Earlier today, Harry, you asked me about my classes. I'm presuming you wanted to know if Potions classes had been cancelled or if there was a substitute while I cared for you."

"As a matter of fact, neither. Albus and I feel that to keep you safe, we're going to have to make some changes in our lives. Well, in yours and mine, that is," He paused, but Harry was quiet, just watching him intently.

He reached over to take Harry's hands in his own. "Harry, I don't know if you realize it, but you came very, very close to dying last week. In fact, you've come close to dying several times within the past six months. We simply have to be more careful. We cannot lose you."

"I know. I'm the only one who can beat Voldemort," Harry said.

But Severus shook his head and answered fiercely, "No! Not because you're the only one who can beat Voldemort!" He took a deep breath and squeezed Harry's hands. "Because we care about you. You. Not the prophecy. Not that it isn't important. Of course it is. But, Harry, even if there were no prophecy, I would give my life to keep you safe."

Harry wanted to turn away, to hide the rush of emotion he could feel welling up inside, but Severus' gaze was so intent, he couldn't tear himself from it. But a moment later, the professor's next words brought on a whole different feeling.

"So we think it's best for you to stay down here and not go to class or wander the school grounds anymore," Severus finished.

Harry just stared at him for a long moment, wondering if he'd really heard right.

"Not go to class anymore?" He finally sputtered. "But how will I learn..."

"I will tutor you."

"But your classes..." Harry began.

"Fleur Delacour is the new Potions professor," Severus said evenly. "I'm now your private tutor."

"My private tutor?" Harry repeated blankly. "And Fleur's teaching Potions?"

"Yes," Severus arched his eyebrow and added in a dry tone. "The students were quite broken up at the news, but they are endeavoring to carry on bravely in spite of my absence."

At another time, Harry might have laughed at Severus' humor. He could just imagine how broken up the students were...no doubt all the Houses besides Slytherin had scheduled all-night parties. But he was still reeling at the implications for himself.

"And I can't wander the school grounds? I can't eat in the Great Hall, or go to the library, or go to Quidditch matches, or..." He broke off, feeling rather desperate. "But I don't want to just stay down here all the time!"

"Harry, it won't be like..."

"It's not fair! I didn't do anything wrong! How come I'm the one being punished?"

"You're not being punished, Harry. It's to keep you alive," Severus sighed. "Listen, we can..."

"It's not fair!" Harry shouted again. He knew, better than anyone, that life wasn't fair, and a part of him knew that he was acting childish and was sorry about it. But mostly, he was just angry. It wasn't fair! Why did he always have to be the one singled out? Why couldn't things ever work out for him?

First Voldemort had murdered Harry's parents, taking away the people who loved him and consigning him to a life of misery with the Dursleys. Then Voldemort had plagued Harry all throughout his years at Hogwarts, but Harry had survived. And he'd often thought that the only reason he could keep going was because of all the good things Hogwarts had given him.

But now everything good about Hogwarts was being taken away from him, too. He might as well go back to living in the cupboard at the Dursleys.

"It'll be horrible! It'll be like prison!"

Emotion flashed in Severus' dark eyes and when he spoke, his voice was cooler. "I'm sorry you feel that way. But keeping you alive is our top priority now, not catering to your whims. Now I have a Potion to brew. I think you'd best stay in here until you're done sulking."

He swept off to his office and shut the door behind him, almost, but not quite, slamming it.

Harry glared and started to throw his pillow at the door, but then he just pounded it once with his fist, and lay down, burrowing his face against it and taking deep gulping breaths.

For a while Harry just lay there, feeling miserable about Severus' news. But eventually he began to feel a little guilty, especially when he remembered the expression in Severus' eyes when he'd made the ‘prison' comment.

Harry rolled onto his side and covered his face with his hands. Okay, that had been low, cruel even. He didn't like knowing he'd said something so cruel. He'd definitely have to apologise for that.

It wasn't even true, really. He liked living down here with Severus. It was almost like having his own home. Sometimes it was almost like having his own family. Harry froze as that thought flitted through his mind.

Family?

He was pretty comfortable now with the idea of Severus and himself being friends. Friendship was fine; he had lots of friends. But family?

He and Ron and Hermione were family. He and Ron had said before that they were brothers. He loved Hermione like a sister. He suspected that Ron and Hermione's feelings for one another were not quite sibling-like, but they loved one another, too, even if the signs of romance were all but unnoticeable.

And the Weasleys. Harry had grown used to thinking of them as ‘almost family'. They were the closest thing to it that he'd ever have, he'd realized that long ago, and he was grateful to them.

But Ron and Hermione were like a brother and sister. The rest of the Weasleys were like extended family. Harry had never really had anyone to fill his parents' place.

For a time, he'd had Sirius. For a brief, glorious time, Harry had thought that he'd finally found someone all his own. Someone who really loved him and wanted to be with him. Someone who would care for him and teach him and protect him. But it hadn't quite worked out, with Sirius being a wanted fugitive and having to stay hidden. They'd done the best they could, and Harry had hoped that one day he'd be able to live with his godfather and they could be a real family.

But then Sirius had died.

Harry took a deep breath and refused to let himself think the rest of that thought...that Sirius had died because of him. He'd made mistakes, but Sirius' death wasn't his fault. That was what Severus kept telling him whenever Harry had nightmares about it, and he'd made Harry promise that he'd tell himself that, too. Maybe someday Harry could even believe it.

Severus.

Harry lowered his hands and looked at the closed door to Severus' office. It was ironic, but Severus had actually been the one doing all the things that Harry had once hoped for with Sirius. Severus took care of him, protected him, and taught him. Heck, Severus was even giving up his career for Harry.

It was obvious that Severus cared for him a lot. But what would Severus think about the idea of them being like a family?

Harry realized suddenly that he himself really, really wanted it. He wanted Severus to be his family. But it was a little scary, too. His dreams of having a parent had died with Sirius. Harry didn't know if he could let himself hope for that again. It would hurt too much if it didn't work out. Maybe he should just be content with having Severus for a friend.

After all, the way he'd just acted, Harry couldn't blame Severus if the man was furious with him. He and Dumbledore were trying to keep Harry safe and alive...Harry knew that, even as upset as he was at the idea of being confined to the dungeons. He knew that Severus just wanted to protect him, and Harry had acted like a spoiled child and said a really hurtful thing to the man who had taken him in and cared so for him.

He hadn't meant it. Not really. It was just that he'd seen all the things he enjoyed about Hogwarts being taken away, unfairly, and his anger and frustration had overwhelmed him. For a moment it had seemed as if he were scarcely better off than he'd been at the Dursleys, locked away in the cupboard under the stairs.

Of course, that wasn't the case, and Harry could see that now that he'd begun to calm down a little. He was still much better off than at the Dursleys. He still had friends and people who cared about him here.

Harry sighed and sat up. He needed to apologise and try to make things right again between him and Severus, and he might as well go on and do it. He slipped his fleecy dark green robe on over his pajamas and shoved his feet into fuzzy slippers. Then he took a deep breath, went over to the closed office door, and knocked on it.

The door opened and Severus stood there, his face an unreadable mask.

Harry swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he said. "About the prison thing. I didn't mean it."

There was a long silence, then, "I know you were upset. I can't blame you for not wanting to be confined down here." In spite of the words, Severus' voice sounded stiff and he turned to go back into his office without making any further gestures.

He'd really hurt Severus, Harry realized, feeling lower than a worm. He cast desperately about for a way to make things better, and then realized that there was only one way. He didn't want to talk about the Dursleys, but he did want Severus to understand why he had felt so despairing.

"Can...can I come in? I need to tell you something."

Severus nodded and stepped aside so Harry could enter. Harry went into his office, and he couldn't help but notice that for someone who had said he had a potion to brew, Severus hadn't made much progress. An empty, unlit cauldron rested in the center of the table, and two jars of ingredients sat beside it, but they hadn't been opened and there were no scales, knives, or other tools in sight.

Silence stretched out between them, Severus waiting impassively, and Harry wondering how to explain. Well, beginning was the hardest part, so he might as well just say it, he decided.

"I really am sorry. It's just that...that when I lived with the Dursleys, everything was so horrible. You know some of it already, but there's a lot you don't know. Until I came to Hogwarts, I lived in a cupboard. The cupboard under the stairs. I had a cot and a blanket, but it got pretty cold in the winter. And in the summer it was so hot, and it was always so dark. Sometimes I was afraid I would suffocate in there. I still hate small, dark places..."

"Harry," Severus interrupted, his voice sounding strangled. Harry looked up; he'd been looking down at the floor, and saw that the professor's face was ashen. Severus stepped close and wrapped his arms around Harry.

Harry gulped back a sob, but then Severus' hand came up to cradle the back of his head, and then Harry was clinging to him and weeping. Severus held him, murmuring soft, soothing words that Harry couldn't hear over his sobs. But that didn't really matter. It was the sound of Severus' voice that mattered, and his arms holding Harry, comforting him, keeping him safe. That was what mattered.

When he could speak again, Harry turned his face slightly from Severus' chest, and tried to explain, "You see why Hogwarts has always meant so much to me? Because it's all I have, and when you said I couldn't go to class, or go out at all anymore, just for a minute, I almost felt like I was being locked back in my cupboard. Stupid, I guess. But..."

"No, it's not stupid," Severus told him gently. "I understand."

"But I didn't mean it, Severus. I like living here, with you. I really, really like it. And I sounded so horrible and ungrateful..."

"Shh," Severus shook his head. "It's all right, Harry. I do understand."

Harry took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, though. I couldn't blame you if you didn't want me to live here anymore."

"Harry!" Severus hugged him tight again. "That never crossed my mind. Not even for a second." He held Harry back at arm's length and gazed intently into his eyes. "Harry, you will always have a home with me. I promise." For just a second, he faltered. "If you want it, that is."

The knowledge that Severus was vulnerable, too, made Harry reach out and hug the man to him this time. "I want it."

Then he was enfolded in Severus' arms again, and they held each other.

Finally the professor cleared his throat and said, "Well, perhaps it's a bit late now, but standing in my office isn't necessarily the most comfortable way to have a long discussion. And we do still have a few things to talk over, so why we don't go sit on the sofa in the living room?"

They did, Severus pouring drinks for them both first...a butterbeer for Harry, and wine for himself. Then they sat side by side on the sofa, and Severus asked quietly, "Would you like to tell me more about the Dursleys?"

Harry hesitated. "I don't want to whinge on about them."

"You're not," Severus spoke in a firm voice. "Quite the contrary, I wish you had told someone about them earlier."

Harry glanced at him curiously. "Why? I'd still have to live with them, you know. Because of the blood wards."

Severus got an odd look on his face, as if he had actually forgotten the blood wards. Then he scowled, but Harry knew it wasn't directed at him.

"Something could have done to help you," the professor growled. "You're not going back to them this summer, Harry. At least, not alone. I'll promise you that, too."

Much as he wanted to believe that, Harry just couldn't. He had to go back to the Dursleys, now more than ever, now that Voldemort was back and not troubling to hide his re-appearance. But Severus was still looking rather fierce, so Harry decided not to contradict him. He only nodded.

Severus took a deep breath and went on more quietly, "But the point right now is that you aren't whinging, Harry. Keeping all these feelings bottled up inside you isn't healthy. It's much better if you share your problems."

Harry gave him a sidelong glance. "You don't share your problems," he said softly. "You know a lot about the Dursleys, but you've never told me about your family."

Severus froze for a second, then raised an eyebrow at him. "And see what a bitter, vengeful man I became? You don't want to be like me."

"You're not really like that anymore, Severus." Harry leaned against him. "I could do worse."

Severus was quiet for a long moment. When he did speak, his voice sounded a little odd, sort of thick and raspy. "I will tell you about my family sometime."

He cleared his throat. "But right now we are talking about you." He set his glass aside, wrapped an arm around Harry, and touched his lips to the top of Harry's head.

It was that light touch that made Harry begin. He told Severus everything: about Dudley and his gang going ‘Harry-hunting', about all the Christmases and birthdays when he'd been ignored, about all the snide, hateful comments Aunt Petunia made. He talked more about being locked away in the cupboard for hours and hours at a time.

He told Severus about being sick with the flu or a virus but never seeing a doctor, only being locked away to suffer chills and nausea in solitude. And finally, he told Severus about the night when he was twelve, when Dobby had come to warn him against returning to Hogwarts and had ruined the carefully orchestrated dinner party that Uncle Vernon had planned, about his uncle's mad fury and how he had ripped his belt off and beaten Harry across his back, until Harry had given in and screamed in pain and then had been left locked in his room to survive on cold soup for the rest of the summer.

"Ron and the twins rescued me, and I was able to spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow," Harry whispered. "That was the year we got blocked from getting on the train, and we came in the flying car, remember? Course we should have just waited for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but at the time we panicked. Well, I panicked and Ron was trying to calm me down. But all I could think was that I had to get to Hogwarts, that I couldn't take a chance on being sent back to the Dursleys."

Glancing up, Harry was surprised at the expression on Severus' face. Severus felt things, very deeply, Harry knew, but he usually was good at presenting a cool façade. Harry had seen him enraged before, back when they had still been enemies. But he had never seen Severus look like this; his face pale and stricken with raw pain, his black eyes glimmering.

Severus held him so tightly that Harry couldn't breathe and after a minute he had to twist his face to catch a breath.

"I'm sorry," Severus' voice rasped painfully. It was all he said, but he sounded as if he couldn't say anything more just then.

Harry blinked. "None of that was your fault."

Severus seemed to be fighting to control his emotions. "I wasn't there for you. None of us were there for you." He bit each word out as if it hurt him to speak.

Harry didn't know what to answer, so he didn't say anything. After a while, Severus seemed to calm down a little and asked, "Do Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger know how you were abused?"

Harry shook his head. "They know some of it, but not the worst. They know my aunt and uncle never wanted me, and that they make me wear Dudley's old clothes and don't give me enough to eat. But they don't know the rest of it."

"But you went to the Weasleys soon after you were beaten," Severus said.

"I hid it from them," Harry replied softly. "I was too ashamed to let them know."

"There's no reason for you to be ashamed," Severus sounded fierce again. "You did nothing wrong, and it was not your fault. And no matter if you had been disobedient in some way, you wouldn't have deserved to be beaten. No child deserves that."

"Yeah, I know that now," Harry agreed. He shrugged. "But it's still kind of hard to talk about."

Severus sighed. "I know," he said heavily. "I know."

There was a pause and when Severus spoke again, his voice was cold and dangerous. "The Dursleys will be brought to justice. They will pay for what they've done."

Harry bit his lip. "I know they deserve...well, something bad. But we can talk about something else now, Severus? Please?"

Severus nodded. He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, he seemed calmer.

"Well, as I said before, I do understand why you objected so strenuously to the idea of staying in our rooms all the time."

Harry started to say something, but Severus stopped him. "But I was trying to tell you, Harry, that I am going to try to make it as pleasant as possible for you. I know you need your friends, and to have some contact with the outside world. So...your Gryffindor friends may come and visit in the afternoons..."

"What about my Hufflepuff friends?" Harry had to ask, just to lighten the mood. "And Luna's a Ravenclaw."

Severus just rolled his eyes. "And I am going to be the faculty advisor for your Defense club, what do you call it? Dumbledore's Army? So you can attend those meetings. I suppose we could arrange for you to attend the Quidditch matches as well, if you are willing to sit in the faculty section."

Harry frowned, but Severus went on, "And perhaps Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger could join us."

Harry smiled and Severus said wryly, "Do these negotiations meet with your approval then, Mr. Potter?"

"They do." Harry held out his hand, and they shook on it.

And so Harry's new life began.

It really wasn't so different from the first weeks he'd lived with Severus, except that then he'd known the situation was only temporary...they'd always planned for him to go back to classes once his arms had been healed. Now that wasn't an option.

The other main difference was that before Harry had studied alone while Severus had been teaching, and now Severus was with him all day. But that was a good difference. He enjoyed Severus' company, and the professor was a very good tutor.

Severus was skilled in all other magical subjects, except for Divination, but as Harry had dropped that subject, it didn't really matter. Besides being talented and knowledgeable, Severus also seemed to be making a great effort to explain things well and to be patient and encouraging. Harry sometimes wondered in amazement if this were the same Professor Snape who had been infamous for ridiculing and taunting students.

Harry was surprised at how quickly the days settled into a comfortable routine, and at how content he was. He missed being free to roam the school, but Severus' rooms were really his now, too, and having his own home after so many lonely years was a great gift. Harry didn't take it for granted.

They woke at the usual early hour, ate breakfast together, and then began work, following Harry's previous class schedule...Herbology, Defense, and Potions on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and double Transfiguration, double Charms, and History of Magic on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

They finished studying in the mid-afternoon, and Harry's friends usually Flooed down soon afterwards. Ron and Hermione came almost every day, sometimes staying on for dinner as well, and Ginny, Luna, and Neville came fairly often too, though they went back up to the Great Hall to eat. And then in the evenings, Severus and Harry worked on Occlumency together.

To Harry's dismay, Occlumency was not progressing well. He had mastered the first step of relaxing and clearing his mind, but he just couldn't seem to build an adequate wall around his secret thoughts. Severus could break through his defenses without any trouble at all. The professor kept reassuring him that it would just take time, but it was frustrating all the same, especially since Harry's nightmares continued to plague him.

Potions wasn't going particularly well, either. With Severus' help, Harry was learning to figure out Golpalott's Laws, and he could answer questions and write decent essays on the topic. But his practical work was a mess. He'd never realized before how much he depended on Hermione in Potions, but now that she wasn't around to work with, he found himself bungling the simplest steps. He kept waiting nervously for Severus to get angry, but the professor managed to remain calm, and kept telling Harry to relax, but that was easier said than done. Harry had always hated Potions and he doubted that would ever change.

Fortunately, everything else was going great. In Transfiguration, Charms, and especially in Defense, he made fantastic progress. With one on one attention from Severus and being able to learn at his own pace, Harry was flying through the textbooks, and Severus said that they would likely begin work on seventh-year material after the Christmas holidays.

One afternoon, a few days into the new routine, Severus had gone back to his office to look over an essay Harry had written, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were alone in the living room.

Ron cast the Muffliato spell so they wouldn't be overheard and leaned closer to Harry, saying in a low voice, "So, Harry, are you really all right with this? Being here all the time, I mean?"

Harry bit his lip. "Well, I do wish I could go to class and eat in the Great Hall and hang out in our common room sometimes, but I like living here. I really do. It's..." he hesitated. "It's kind of like my first real home. I guess that sounds crazy to you guys, but..."

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't sound crazy, Harry. We know that Privet Drive has never been a home for you, and if you're happy here, then we're happy for you."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "We just want to make sure you're okay with things. Cause if you were really unhappy, we could go to Dumbledore and maybe..."

"No," Harry stopped him. "Thanks, but no. I do miss all the other stuff, but I'm glad Severus has let me stay here, and I think if I sent you off to Dumbledore to complain, that that would really hurt him. I won't do that. Besides, Severus and Dumbledore do have a point. I am safer here, with Severus with me all the time. Ever since I woke up and learned about that necklace, I keep thinking, what if it had been a Portkey? What if it had taken me back to Voldemort?"

His nightmares about being captured and tortured had grown even worse too, but he didn't mention that.

"But I thought Professor Snape said it couldn't have been a Portkey," Hermione said quietly, for once his initial fear and anger over Harry being harmed had passed, Severus had reassured them all that there were strong anti-Portkey spells around Hogwarts.

"Yeah, I know, but the necklace wasn't supposed to be inside Hogwarts at all, and if someone figured out a way to smuggle it in, who's to say they couldn't make a Portkey work, too?" Harry asked. "After what happened to me in the summer, I know I have to be more careful. I couldn't survive anything like that again."

Ron and Hermione were quiet a moment, both looking a little unsettled. Finally they nodded.

"We miss you, Harry, but I guess you do need to stay here," Hermione said.

Harry tried to smile. "At least Severus lets you come down every day. If I couldn't see you at all, I don't think I could survive that either."

"Professor Snape has turned out to be pretty nice this year," Hermione remarked, sounding slightly puzzled. "I am really happy, for your sake, especially, Harry. But doesn't it seem a little odd, sometimes? You're living here, and the two of you are actually fond of one another." She shook her head in amazement. "Who'd have ever thought that could happen?"

"Dumbledore," Harry answered. "He's always thought that we could learn to get along. It's why he kept trying to push us together."

"I guess he was right," Ron said. "But it does seem a bit surreal at times."

"Well, Severus used to think I was spoiled and arrogant," Harry explained. "I think he imagined the Dursleys waiting on me hand and foot."

Ron snorted.

"Yeah, that's rich, isn't it?" Harry agreed with a wry grin. "But once he found out that I really wasn't like that, things started getting better. It's like we got to know each other, and found out we weren't so bad after all."

"He used to blame you for everything just cause he didn't like your dad, too," Ron pointed out.

Harry sighed, and ignored the little stab of hurt that Ron's words caused. It was true, wasn't it? And it did still hurt when he remembered how Severus had once treated him. But that was all over and done with, and everything was different now. He and Severus were really close. There was no point in dwelling on the past.

"Well, he did actually have a good reason for not liking my dad. I can't tell you about it...it's not my secret to share. But I can't blame Severus for how he feels about my dad."

"Maybe, but it was still rotten for him to take things out on you." Ron refused to budge from his point.

"It was, but it's over, and Severus is sorry for how he treated me then. We're all right now, Ron. You know we are," Harry said.

Ron slowly nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. And if you've forgiven him, that's all that matters to us."

Hermione nodded as well.

Harry looked at both of them and smiled. "Thanks," he said softly. "You know, I was worried at first, about how you would react when Severus and I started getting along better. You both hated him, too, and I thought you might not handle it well."

"We didn't actually hate..." Hermione began.

Ron interrupted. "Yeah, we did. But the main reason we hated him, Harry, was because he hurt you. But if you and Sn...Professor Snape have got everything worked out, and obviously you have, then we can deal with it."

Hermione reached to take Harry's hand. "We're glad you've found someone who cares for you, Harry. Someone like a father, I mean."

The three of them smiled at one another, and then Ron and Hermione began telling Harry about how Seamus had repeatedly caused glass goblets to explode in Transfiguration and had so exasperated Professor McGonagall that she'd ended up taking ten points from her own House.

***

Dumbledore's Army met for the first time that year on a Thursday evening in mid-November. Their planned October meeting had, of course, been cancelled when Harry had been injured so badly by the opal necklace.

They met in the Room of Requirement at eight o'clock. Harry and Severus had Flooed up to a small room across the hall, and Harry was so excited at the chance to see his old classmates and they were so excited to see him that the first ten minutes was spent in animated chatter as everyone crowded around. Severus was surprisingly tolerant, though he watched intently, almost anxiously, as if he worried that something might happen to Harry even among trusted comrades.

Finally Severus cleared his throat and announced sternly, "Enough babbling. We'll spend the evening reviewing some of the more common hexes and counter spells. Those of you in sixth- and seventh-years should attempt to cast nonverbally, of course."

There was a low groan from many of the students at those words; nonverbal magic wasn't coming easily for most of them. Harry and Hermione could cast many of the simpler spells nonverbally now, and Ron was coming along, but most of their classmates still had to whisper the words.

Severus ignored the moans and continued, "Which spells are you most familiar with?"

There was a pause; then Parvati Patil raised her hand. "The Jelly-Legs jinx, sir."

"Very well. Pair up and begin with the Jelly-Legs jinx," Severus said.

The meeting went well, to Harry's relief. He hadn't been entirely sure how the other kids would react to having a faculty advisor, especially after being on their own last year. But they'd been able to get away with it then, since the meetings were clandestine anyway. Now they were an official club, and as such were required to have a staff member present.

But no one seemed to mind. Severus walked among them, observing and correcting mistakes, sometimes demonstrating a move, but he didn't really have much to correct. The DA members had worked hard and were quite capable for their age.

Harry was glad to see, too, that Severus continued to instruct in his improved manner, not mocking or sneering at anyone even when he caught students whispering the spells instead of trying to use nonverbal magic. He just reminded them to concentrate and had them do it again.

All the students dueled intently and once their initial enthusiasm at seeing Harry again had settled, there was little joking or playing around. Everyone was taking the session very seriously.

"Well, there's a lot in the Prophet now about the war," Ginny said, when they had paused for a short break and Harry had commented on the intense mood. She, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in a corner, sipping cups of water they had conjured for themselves.

"Every day you read about something terrible happening...Death Eaters attacking, missing people, that poor little Montgomery boy being killed by a werewolf." Ginny shook her head. "There's this hush in the Great Hall every morning now, when the post comes in. You never know if you're going to read about your neighbor, or even your own family." She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"We're kind of isolated from it here," Ron said quietly. "As long as we've got Dumbledore we're safe at Hogwarts, but it's terrible worrying about what's happening outside. I think a lot of people have realised that the war's real, and one day, sooner or later, we're gonna be fighting for real, too."

Hermione dropped her cup and jumped up from the floor. Harry was surprised to see how pale she was and that her dark eyes were unusually bright. He started to go to her, but Ron had already hurried after her, and after a second, Hermione seemed more in control of herself. She and Ron spoke softly together, and just as Harry was trying to decide if he should join them or leave them alone, they stepped apart and raised their wands to begin dueling again.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said softly. "Work with me on the Ricktusempra spell, will you?"

As if it were a signal to begin work again, the other kids stood and joined in once Harry and his friends begin working again. Severus guided them through several more common hexes and counter-spells before calling the meeting to an end.

"When can we meet again, sir?" Anthony Goldstein asked.

Severus considered. "When is Quidditch practice scheduled for next week?"

"There are no more Quidditch practices til after the holidays, sir," Katie Bell said.

Harry had missed the first match, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, when he'd been unconscious, and there wasn't another game until the end of January.

Katie went on, "But even if there were, we'd re-schedule it. I think we all know this is more important now than Quidditch." Everyone in the room nodded in agreement.

Severus looked pleased. "Shall we meet again on Monday then?"

There was general agreement, and the kids began to leave. Harry's friends said good-bye, promising to see him the next afternoon, and then Harry and Severus went back across the hall to Floo home.

Back in their dungeon rooms, Harry headed off to his bathroom to shower and put on his warm flannel pajamas. Then he headed to the living room and lay down on the sofa, waiting for Severus to finish his own shower and join him.

He'd intended to look over the next chapter in History of Magic, but he hadn't been sleeping well, and he just couldn't bring himself to be terribly interested in the wizard-goblin peace treaty of 1328. His eyelids were so heavy and the sofa so comfortable...Harry's eyes slowly closed and he fell asleep.

Sirius and Bellatrix were dueling, dodging jets of lights. Sirius avoided one curse, and laughed as he baited his cousin, his face lit with feverish excitement.

Bellatrix's next curse hit him directly in the chest.

Harry tried to scream, but his voice was frozen. He leaped past Neville, trying to catch his godfather, but it was no use. It was never any use.

Sirius fell through the veil and disappeared.

The ice in Harry's throat melted and his screams mingled with Bellatrix's triumphant, hysterical laughter.

"Harry, wake up!" Severus was shaking him. Harry's eyes flew open, and he realised from his sore throat that he must have screamed aloud, too.

"Sorry," he whispered, before his throat closed up and he clamped his mouth shut tight, determined not to cry anymore. Severus never seemed to mind, but Harry was beginning to feel a little ashamed. It was almost a nightly occurrence, him waking sobbing and yelling from nightmares.

"Don't apologise, child," Severus soothed, sitting on the sofa and pulling Harry close. "You've suffered more horrible experiences than most people ever have to, and you have every right to feel hurt and frightened and angry. I'm sorry you have to endure these nightmares, but I want to be here with you. I want to help you. You don't ever have to apologise to me. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, still fighting tears.

"Cry if you need to, Harry. It's all right." Severus bowed his head to rest his lips against the top of Harry's head, and Harry couldn't hold back his sobs any longer.

When he'd calmed down, Severus asked, "Was it Voldemort?"

"No. Sirius," Harry told him.

"It wasn't your fault."

When Harry didn't say anything, Severus took his face between his hands. "It wasn't, Harry."

"I hope not," Harry mumbled.

Severus carded his fingers through Harry's hair and hugged him close for a few more minutes before sitting back and pulling a small vial of violet liquid from his robe pocket.

"Drink this, Harry. It will help you sleep."

Harry took the vial and eyed it. "I thought sleeping potions were addictive."

"They can be," Severus said. "You can't take one every night, and we'll have to monitor it carefully. But you aren't getting enough sleep, and that's not good for your health either."

"I wish I could learn Occlumency, and maybe that would help," Harry remarked.

"It'll come," Severus assured him. "Now go on and drink the potion, child. I'll stay with you."

Harry tipped the vial up and swallowed, grimacing at the taste. Severus Summoned a pillow and placed it across his lap. Harry smiled and curled up beside him, laying his head on the pillow.

Severus began carding through his hair again. "You know, Harry, I was very impressed at the meeting tonight. Those students have a solid grasp on Defense techniques, and they certainly didn't learn it from Umbridge. You did well teaching them last year."

Harry was growing sleepy, but he could feel himself turning red at Severus' praise.

"Well, they did all the work, really," he replied.

"No," Severus answered. "I'm sure they worked diligently, but they needed someone to instruct them first. I know you want to be an Auror, but if you should change your mind, you'd make a good Defense professor someday."

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. As Severus slid his glasses off, he thought, Me? Professor Potter? Wouldn't that be something? He fell asleep imagining himself, Ron, and Hermione all as Hogwarts professors. He taught Defense; Ron taught Divination; and he never found out what Hermione taught because he lost awareness while she scolded Ron after he said he'd just make up lesson plans as class went along.

"It doesn't matter," Ron kept insisting. "Divination is a bunch of rubbish, anyway."

***

Even in his fairly isolated existence, Harry couldn't escape the fact that the war was growing increasingly grim. Dumbledore left the school once again for several weeks before the Christmas holidays, though he did tell Harry and Severus that they needed to have another lesson as soon as he returned.

Harry began reading through the Daily Prophet every morning, and the news was as bleak as Ginny had said. Severus had a subscription ("I might as well know what garbage they're reporting," he said dryly), and when Harry had asked to see it, he'd hesitated, then sighed and handed it over.

"I wish I could shield you from all of this, Harry, but I suppose I just can't," Severus had actually looked a bit upset at those words, but he'd quickly regained his equilibrium. "You have fifteen minutes, and then I want you practicing the Invisibility Charm."

The DA continued to meet often, two or three times a week, and though it was enjoyable, it was also intense. Everyone was training hard, trying to prepare for whatever the future might bring.

Worst of all, Ron and Hermione came early one day, both of them looking stricken. Herbology had been cancelled. Hannah Abbott's mother had been killed, and as her Head of House, Professor Sprout was staying with her until her father could come.

For a while all three sat in silence. Severus had gone back to his office when Ron and Hermione had Flooed down, as he usually did, so he had missed the news.

"We need to do something for Hannah," Harry said eventually.

"Yeah, send a card or something, I guess, but that doesn't seem like enough," Ron agreed.

"Just make sure you guys include her in stuff when she comes back," Harry told them. "It's terrible to feel alone."

"We will. The other Puffs'll stick close to her, too. They're all pretty tight," Ron remarked.

They were quiet again until Hermione suddenly surprised both boys by bursting into tears. Ron and Harry looked at each other, rather helplessly, before going to her, awkwardly placing their arms about her.

"Don't cry, Hermione. It'll be all right. Well, I mean..." Ron's voice trailed off uncertainly, and he settled for hesitantly patting her shoulder.

Hermione shook her head and struggled to speak. "No, it's not all right, Ron. It's not Hannah. Oh, that sounds horrible, and I didn't mean it to. I do feel really, really bad for Hannah and her family. But..."

Hermione's face crumpled and she finished in a wail. "I have to leave you! I have to leave Hogwarts!"

Harry and Ron stared at her in speechless amazement for a long moment. Harry was sure he must have misunderstood; it was impossible to imagine Hermione not being at school.

"Leaving?" Ron finally managed to sputter. "Is this a joke? You can't leave, Hermione!"

She took a deep shuddery breath and swiped at her face with the back of her hand. Ron pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

"Th...Thank you, Ron," she sniffed as she dried her eyes. "I don't want to leave, you know," she continued. "I love Hogwarts. I...I love both of you. You're the best friends I've ever had. We're like a family. But I just don't have any choice."

"Is it your parents?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. Her eyes filled with tears once more, and she hastily dabbed at them with Ron's handkerchief. Ron slipped an arm around her shoulders and the three of them leaned back against the sofa, sitting side by side, with Hermione in the middle.

"I've never told my parents about Voldemort or Death Eaters or about how some wizards are so prejudiced against Muggles and Muggle-borns," she began. Her voice trembled at first, but gained strength as she went on.

"And I've always felt guilty because normally I'm very honest with Mum and Dad. But I knew that if they thought I was in danger, they'd make me leave school and not have any contact with the wizarding world at all. And I just couldn't bear that."

She looked over at Harry. "You aren't the only one who never had friends before coming here, Harry. No one ever beat me up or picked on me really, but no one ever liked me or wanted to be my friend, either."

She smiled a small, sad smile. "I can't blame them. I know I can be a know-it-all prat."

"You are not!" Ron said fiercely, scowling at the imaginary children who had slighted Hermione. He seemed to have conveniently forgotten that he had often called her a know-it-all prat in the first years of their friendship, even if it had (usually) been done in affection.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Mum and Dad love me, of course, very much. But they both work long hours, and when I was growing up, I spent a lot of time by myself or with babysitters. I used to imagine that I had brothers and sisters just so I would have someone to play with and talk to. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"If you think that's pathetic, then you don't even want to know all the things I used to pretend to get by at the Dursleys," Harry told her.

She squeezed his hand, too. "Both my parents are only children, and all my grandparents are dead, so it was always just the three of us. Mum and Dad are solitary people, too, although they don't seem to mind it. Maybe because they have each other. But the point is, that on the weekends, they were more likely to take me to the museum or the theatre, instead of having people come over. So I really never learned how to make friends."

"Anyway, I was awfully lonely a lot of the time. I was so excited when I got my Hogwarts letter, because it was a chance to start over in a brand new place." She suddenly looked a little shy and almost embarrassed. "I wanted to make friends with you two, that day on the train, and later on in Charms class, Ron. But since I didn't really know how, I went about it wrong. You know, I've always been grateful to that mountain troll."

"We are, too," Harry said. Ron didn't say anything, but he did hold Hermione a little closer.

"Well, I'm taking forever to say it, but I wanted you to understand why I didn't tell Mum and Dad about all the things that have happened. I couldn't tell them, because even though I love my parents, I felt like I would just die if I had to leave Hogwarts and my friends here, especially the two of you."

"We understand," Harry remarked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, completely. I mean, I could write a book about all the things I've never told my parents, Hermione."

Hermione smiled again, but then it faded as she said, "But now it's different. We're not just having adventures at school. There's a war going on, and a lot of people are being killed, especially Muggles and Muggle-borns."

"For several weeks now, I've been thinking that I ought to try to get my parents to go into hiding. But that's such a huge, drastic step, the only way I could convince them would be if I told them everything. And once they understand how dangerous things are right now, they'll whisk me away with them."

"I've kept putting it off, because I just can't bear to leave. But today I realised I can't put it off any longer. Tomorrow it might be Professor McGonagall coming to tell me that my parents are dead."

Tears began rolling down Hermione's cheeks again, and she leaned against Ron who held her close. Harry held her hand and tried to think of some way to solve this dilemma. They couldn't let Hermione go...she was one of them. They were a trio, and they would all be devastated without one another.

But they had to find a way to protect her parents, too. Hermione hadn't said it...she probably hadn't wanted to make him feel guilty...but Harry knew that the Grangers were in particular danger. Not only were they Muggles, but their daughter was Harry Potter's best friend. Those two facts made them a very inviting target for Voldemort.

He couldn't help but remember this past summer, when he'd thought that it would be better if he stopped being friends with Ron and Hermione because being close to him put them in danger. For the first time in a long while, he wondered if he'd made the right decision in not following through on that.

But really, it was already too late for that. Even if he had broken things off, it probably wouldn't have mattered by that point. Everyone knew about the Golden Trio. To protect his friends, he should have cut them out of his life years ago. But years ago, he hadn't realised how bad things would get.

Hermione glanced over and saw his face. "Harry, I know what you're thinking, and don't. Just don't. It isn't your fault that there are some sick, crazy people out there. I love you and Ron, and I'll never regret being friends with you."

The three of them hugged one another tightly, and Harry thought again that there just had to be a way to protect the Grangers and still keep Hermione at Hogwarts. He was thinking of possible scenarios, each one more fantastic than the last, when Hermione pulled away with a sigh.

"I better go speak with McGonagall about going home. Harry, I'm sorry, but I just couldn't live with myself if something happened to Mum and Dad, and I could have prevented it. Ron, will you come with me?"

"Sure," Ron said heavily. "But what if McGonagall won't let you go?"

"Then I'll sneak into Hogsmeade and find a way to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Once I'm in London, I can take a bus to their office," Hermione replied immediately. Obviously she'd given her plans some thought.

"I wish Dumbledore were here," Ron muttered. "Maybe he could think of something else we could do."

Harry sat up straight. Dumbledore wasn't there, and none of them knew when he would return. But there was someone else who might be able to help.

"Hermione, tell Severus about your parents." Harry grabbed her hand. "He'd help us, I know he would. And maybe he could think of a way for you to stay at Hogwarts and still protect your parents."

"Tell Professor Snape?" Hermione sounded a little doubtful.

"Yeah, Harry's right!" Ron pounced on the idea like Crookshanks with a mouse, and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, Harry almost laughed. Only the prospect of losing Hermione could have made Ron so desperate that he would be eager to go to Severus Snape for help.

Hermione looked at the closed door to Severus' office a little nervously. "All right," she finally agreed. "But only if you both come with me."

"Hang on, I'll get him." Harry went to knock on the door. "Hey, Severus, could you come out here? Please? We need to talk to you. We've got a big problem."

Severus opened the door and looked at Harry, then beyond him to where Ron and Hermone were sitting on the sofa, watching him anxiously. If he were surprised at Harry's request, he didn't show it, but only nodded.

"Very well." He came into the living room and sat down in a chair across from the sofa. Harry went to perch on the ottoman before the chair and began explaining Hermione's problem.

After a few sentences, she took over, though she stared down at her clasped hands as she talked, not looking up at Severus until the end.

"And so Harry thought that you might be able to think of some way for me to stay at school, but for my parents to be safe, too." Hermione's dark eyes were filled with both fear and hope as she finally looked Severus in the face.

The professor was quiet for a long while. The three kids waited, hardly daring to breathe as Severus considered the situation.

"I have to say, Miss Granger, that under almost any other circumstances, I would agree with your parents, that it is their right and their duty to protect you, even if it is by taking you out of school and into hiding."

Harry stared at him with a sinking feeling while Ron started to exclaim indignantly when Severus silenced him with a glare and went on.

"However, in this case, something is telling me that we need you here, Miss Granger, that in some way or another you will have a vital part to play in winning the war. Therefore, we must find a way to safeguard your parents while keeping you here at Hogwarts."

Severus frowned in thought. "I believe the best option would be to alter your parents' memories and then place them under a Compulsion Charm."

"A Compulsion Charm? Isn't that sort of similar to the Imperius Curse?" Hermione asked in a timid voice.

Severus nodded. "Yes, it is. You would have to understand that what I am suggesting is not strictly legal, or ethical, under most circumstances. But a Compulsion Charm is not an Unforgivable. It's not quite as bad as the Imperius Curse. The Wizangamot has made exceptions for extenuating circumstances, and I believe our situation qualifies. After all, we would not be performing this Charm in order to harm someone, but to protect them from a very real threat."

"What exactly would we do, sir?" Hermione asked.

"Your parents must be persuaded to go into hiding. At the same time, they must be persuaded to allow you to remain at school, where you are essentially in training to fight a war. This is the crux of the problem, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well," Severus shrugged. "We need to alter your parents' memories. We must make them believe they are entirely different people...people who have no daughter to worry about. Then we plant a compulsion in their minds, such as a burning desire to relocate to Australia. I imagine that they would be safe enough there."

"Brilliant," Ron breathed, and there was look of admiration on his face.

Severus arched an eyebrow at him. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley," he said dryly. Then he turned his attention back to Hermione and he was perfectly serious.

"There are risks involved, Miss Granger, and you must be aware of them. First, as I said, Compulsion Charms are controversial, and should anyone ever discover our plan, it is possible that you could find yourself in some legal trouble. I believe we would be considered innocent because of the situation, but there is a chance we would not be."

"Also, and this is likely to be more crucial to you, I cannot promise that your parents' original memories could be restored. Normally, they can be, but not always."

There was silence while Hermione bit her lip, looking troubled, and Ron and Harry watched her sympathetically.

"Why don't you take a few days and think it over?" Severus suggested.

Hermione looked him right in the eye. "Professor Snape, do you think my parents are in danger?"

Severus slowly nodded. "Yes."

"Then my decision's made," Hermione said. Then she looked uncharacteristically helpless. "But I don't know how to do either one of those Charms. Could you teach me, sir? Please?"

"I could, but they are both quite difficult to master. Since time is of the essence, I should probably go with you and perform them myself," Severus told her.

"Why don't we all go?" Ron suggested. "Harry and I could be there for moral support." He looked at Severus. "If that's all right."

Severus shrugged and Harry nodded.

"Should we just go now?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

Severus shrugged again. "That's up to you, Miss Granger, but if it were me, I wouldn't waste any time."

"All right, then," Hermione stood up. "I'm ready. How are we going to London, sir?"

"We'll walk out past the gates and Apparate," Severus also stood. "Why don't we all fetch our cloaks? It's cold outside."

Ron and Hermione Flooed off to Gryffindor Tower and returned a few minutes later with their cloaks. Then they all Flooed up to the Great Hall and walked outside.

It was growing bitter cold and the four of them hurried in silence past the school gates to a point where they could Apparate. Once there, Severus cast a Muffliato spell around them, even though no one else was in sight.

"Everyone join hands," he instructed.

Harry reached for Severus', while holding onto Hermione with his other. Ron took her other hand.

"Your address, Miss Granger?"

Hermione told him, and an instant later Harry felt that sickening, squeezing crush that he'd felt when Dumbledore had taken him to the Burrow by Side-Along Apparition. An instant later it was over and they were standing in a neat, spotlessly clean living room done in soft pastel colors.

A family portrait hung over the mantel, showing a younger Hermione, a tall handsome man with a pleasant face and thick, graying brown hair, and an attractive woman who looked exactly as Hermione would look in her forties.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she stared up at it, and she held tightly onto Ron's and Harry's hands.

Severus conjured bags out of the air and handed one to each of them. "We must clear the house of any trace of you, Miss Granger." He gestured towards the portrait. "Family portraits, photo albums, old books or toys. Put everything in these bags."

They went to work, moving through the house room by room. It was a two-story brick townhouse, and everything was neat, well-ordered, and lovely. It was exactly the kind of house Harry could imagine Hermione growing up in. He noticed that Ron seemed to be especially quiet and when the two of them were alone in the kitchen, Ron stepped close and said quietly, "I guess the Burrow doesn't really compare to this, does it?"

Harry gave him a look of exasperation. "Ron, your house is great. I love it, and so does Hermione. It's not like this, but it doesn't have to be. We love the Burrow because your family is there and you guys love one another, and you make everybody feel welcome and happy. And if I ever hear you putting the Burrow down again, I may have to punch you. Now, quit worrying about stupid stuff and just be there for Hermione."

Ron stared at him for a second like he didn't know how to respond. Then he gave Harry a light slap on the back and the corners of his mouth turned up. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, mate."

Just then they heard Hermione calling their names from upstairs and hurried to join her. She stood in the doorway of the first room on the left of the hall.

"Would you guys like to see my room?" She asked. "It may be the last time I'll ever be in it."

They nodded and Ron took her hand again as they went into a bedroom done in pale blue and yellow. The bed, desk, night table, and wardrobe were of polished cherry wood, and there was a floral print comforter on the bed and matching curtains at the windows. Several pictures hung on the walls. One was an Impressionist seaside scene in swirly light colours, but the others were photos of Hermione, Ron, and Harry that had been taken at Hogwarts. It was a little odd to see himself smiling and waving from the walls, Harry thought.

The bookshelves were organised, but crammed with books, predictably, and a small rocking chair sat in one corner with a stuffed white kitten sitting in it.

Hermione smiled and walked over to touch her fingers to the toy. "Miss Kitty. Not a very original name, I know, but I was only five when I got her. She was always my favorite toy."

"It's a beautiful room, Hermione," Ron said, coming over to place a hand on her shoulder.

They helped put all of Hermione's belongings in the bags and then went through the house one last time, double-checking to be sure they'd gotten everything. Then Severus flicked his wand and the bags shrank until they were small enough to easily fit in a pocket. By then it was time for the Grangers to return home from work.

"How do you want to do this?" Severus asked Hermione. "Would you like a minute alone to speak with them first?"

She hesitated, but finally shook her head, still looking torn. "I'd have to try to pretend everything's all right, and I'd probably just start crying and then they'd ask a bunch of questions. It'll be better if we just go ahead and stupefy them."

That's what they did. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Severus hid in the kitchen when the Grangers came in. Severus surreptitiously peered through the doorway and aimed his wand at them. A moment later, both Hermione's parents lay peacefully sleeping on the floor.

"Can we move them, please?" Hermione choked. "I don't like seeing them lying on the floor like that."

So Ron and Harry levitated the Grangers back to their bedroom and arranged them so they were side-by-side on the bed. Severus stepped close to each one in turn and placed his wand at their temples. He murmured the incantations, and then looked at Hermione, hovering in the doorway.

"It's done."

Hermione slowly walked over to the bed and leaned over to kiss her mother and father on the forehead.

"Mum, Dad, I'm so sorry. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but I'm just trying to keep you safe. I hope you would understand. I'll see you again, I promise. I love you."

She turned and flung herself into Ron's arms. He held her and patted her back. Harry wanted to go to them, too, but something told him that maybe Ron and Hermione should have this moment alone. He walked over to where Severus was waiting, looking a bit awkward.

"Thank you," Harry said softly.

Severus placed an arm around his shoulders. "You're welcome."

After a while, Hermione calmed down. She took one last long look at her parents and then went over to Harry and Severus.

"I'm ready."

Severus walked back to the bed and waved his wand in a circular motion over the Grangers. "They should wake within the next fifteen minutes. They'll believe they are Wendall and Monica Wilkins, a childless couple with an urgent desire to move to Sydney, Australia."

They Apparated back outside the Hogwarts school gates, and retraced their steps back through the Great Hall to Floo down to Severus' and Harry's rooms. They had missed dinner, so Severus ordered some shepherd's pie from the kitchens and Ron and Hermione ate with Harry and the professor. They were all quiet, and every once in a while, Hermione's eyes would fill with tears again.

But before she and Ron left to go back to their dormitory, Hermione turned to Severus. "Professor Snape, I believe that you've saved my parents' lives. Thank you."

She threw her arms around him, and then jumped back and Flooed away, leaving Severus, as well as Harry and Ron, staring after her in shock.

Severus kept track of the Grangers and ten days later, he informed Hermione that her parents had sold their townhouse and left for Australia.

Two days after that, they learned that Death Eaters had come in the night, destroyed the Grangers' former home, and killed the Muggle neighbors who lived on either side.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry stared at Severus in shock. It was late afternoon, and Severus had just Flooed back from the headmaster's office. Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts that morning, and the Potions Professor had gone to meet with him.

"What?!" Hermione gasped, her eyes huge in her pale face.

"It appears that your parents escaped to safety just in time," Severus said quietly. "Albus told me that Death Eaters attacked your former residence last night, and virtually destroyed it." He sighed. "Your neighbors were not as fortunate as your own parents, I'm afraid."

"Not old Mrs. Winslow." Hermione shook her head. "She used to watch me in the afternoons when I was little. She was the sweetest little old lady. She was always telling me stories and baking biscuits. And the Kemps had just had a baby last summer, a little boy. They named him Ryan."

She gave Severus a pleading look, as if he could tell her that it was some kind of mistake, but the professor shook his head.

"They're all gone. I'm sorry, Miss Granger."

His face was expressionless, but Harry could see pain in Severus' black eyes. He stepped closer to Severus even as Ron reached for Hermione's hand. She started to turn to him, her eyes filling with tears, when suddenly she spun back to look at Harry and Severus.

"It's my fault, isn't it? They were after my parents, and when Mum and Dad weren't there, they attacked our neighbors."

Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault, Hermione."

Ron spoke at the same time, "Don't think like that, Hermione. You had to do whatever you could to save your mum and dad. You can't help it that the Death Eaters are monsters." He pulled her close in comfort.

"Listen to your friends, Miss Granger," Severus told her. "You are in no way responsible for what Voldemort and his followers chose to do."

Hermione drew in a long, shaky breath. "I'll try," she whispered. "I know you're right, but I still can't help feeling guilty. But if it had been Mum and Dad..." she stopped and pressed her hand to her mouth.

Ron hugged her, and this time Harry went over and put his arms around her, too.

After a while they drew apart and Hermione said more firmly, "Thanks, guys. I'll be all right. I do know that it's not really my fault. It's just so horrible. I can't believe anyone could be so cruel, to kill an old woman and a young couple with a baby. How could they do it?"

The three of them looked at Severus, but he only shook his head and turned away.

Hermione went over to him and tentatively placed her hand on his arm. "Professor Snape? Thank you again, for helping me. I'll never forget it."

She looked back at Harry and Ron. "I'm going back to my dorm now." Seeing their expressions, she tried to smile. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I just think I'd like a few minutes alone before dinner. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

After she'd left, Ron turned to Harry and said, "I think I'll go, too, mate. Hermione may want to be alone right now, but I want to be there to walk her down to dinner."

Harry nodded. "All right. See you later, Ron."

When they were alone, Harry looked over at Severus. "Are you all right, Severus?"

"Yes, of course," Severus sat down on the sofa and picked up a catalogue from the shops of Hogsmeade. "Albus wants to meet with us tomorrow night, Harry. I think he's planning to let us know more about his secret activities of late, because he said the memories we're going to see are crucial to Voldemort's defeat."

"Good." Harry flopped down on the other end of the sofa. "I want this war to be over, Severus. I want it really bad."

"As do we all." Severus gave him a stern look. "But we need to have all the information we can get and then develop as secure a plan as possible. There'll be no rushing off with some foolhardy idea that hasn't been thoroughly worked through."

Harry gave him a look of mock hurt in return. "When have I ever done that?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "We're not even going to go there, Harry." He handed over another catalogue to Harry. "Here. The holidays are approaching and since we can't go shopping for gifts, you might want to owl-order some things for your friends."

"Oh," Harry realised he hadn't even thought about how he would buy Christmas presents to give to his friends. "Thanks."

He took the catalogue and began thumbing through it, but instead of concentrating on what he'd like to order, his thoughts kept straying. He wished he could have gone with Ron and Hermione. He usually didn't mind staying in his and Severus' rooms, at least not too much. But Hermione needed her friends now. She was being brave, but he knew she was upset about the deaths of her neighbors, and in spite of their reassurances, he knew she felt responsible.

Just like he did about Sirius' death. In his mind, Harry knew now that he wasn't really to blame, but in his heart, he just couldn't completely erase the guilt. Sirius had gone to the Department of Mysteries to save him. If only he hadn't let himself be fooled by false visions and schemes....

Harry saw Voldemort's skull-like face in his mind, with its unnatural pallor, blazing scarlet eyes, and slitted nostrils. He saw Voldemort and his hooded followers, causing pain and death everywhere they went. He imagined their raging frenzy as they lashed out against their innocent victims: Hermione's neighbors; Hannah Abbott's mother, countless others...men, women, even small children and babies, Muggles who had no idea the wizarding world existed, wizards who were brave enough to stand against evil. For some reason, Voldemort had decided he should have the power of life and death over all of them.

He saw Bellatrix's sneering face and heard her voice filled with insane glee as she taunted him after killing Sirius. He remembered her and the other Death Eaters shrieking with delight as they tortured him; casting the Cruciatus curse on him again and again, kicking him in the ribs and stomach, laughing and jeering at his agony. He remembered Voldemort standing back, watching it all with cool pleasure, completely removed from any glimmering of compassion or empathy.

He felt as if there were a terrible pressure in his chest, that kept building and building with each memory until finally it exploded. Without consciously thinking about it, Harry snatched a vase from a small side table and threw it against the wall as hard as he could.

"I hate them!"

The sharp crash of glass against the stone wall, the plinking sound of hundreds of crystal shards falling to the floor, was satisfying, but not nearly satisfying enough. Harry's raging anger wanted more...wanted to loose itself on Voldemort and his followers, on all those who had hurt him and his loved ones so badly. He wanted to hurt them in return; he wanted...

"Harry!"

Dimly, Harry realised that Severus was shouting his name, that they were both on their feet, that the professor had grabbed his arm and that he, Harry, was fighting him like a wild thing.

"I hate them! They kill, and they hurt people! For no reason! They're mean and crazy and I hate them! They kill everyone! They killed my parents, and Cedric, and Hermione's neighbors, and Hannah's mother, and..." Harry's voice broke. "Sirius. They killed Sirius."

Abruptly, he collapsed against Severus, letting the professor's arms twine around him as Severus eased them both down to sit on the floor. Harry clung tightly to him, his face pressed to Severus' chest, and sobbed and sobbed. Severus held him close and silently rocked him back and forth.

"They killed Sirius," Harry choked out between sobs. "I loved him, Severus. I'm sorry. I know he was mean to you. But I loved him, and he loved me. He wanted me to live with him. We were going to be a...a family."

"I know, Harry," Severus said softly, as he cradled Harry in his arms. "He was good to you. He loved you and he was the first adult who was there for you. Of course you loved him. You don't ever have to apologise for that."

"Sirius never...he never had a chance to live. It's not fair. They took everything from him, and from me." Harry began crying again, and buried his face in Severus' robes.

"I know," the professor repeated. He moved one hand slightly so his fingers could caress through Harry's hair.

"They liked hurting me. They laughed when they were torturing me. They put the Cruciatus curse on me over and over again, and they kicked me in my stomach and ribs, and it hurt so bad I wanted to die. And they laughed."

Harry was almost surprised that he hadn't run out of tears yet, but apparently he hadn't because they started rolling down his cheeks again. Severus was quiet, but began rocking him gently again. Harry leaned against him, his cheek against Severus' chest, and cried and cried until finally he couldn't cry anymore. His eyes were sore from all the tears, and his face felt puffy and swollen. But the tight pressure in his chest was gone.

"It's all because of that prophecy," Harry whispered. "That's why he killed my parents. That's why Sirius died, and that's why he's after me. I never wanted it, Severus. Why did it have to be me?"

"Oh, child, I don't know, perhaps because you're the one who's strong enough and brave enough to stop him." Severus' voice was heavy and laden with pain. Harry had to glance up to see if he were all right. The professor's face was drawn and his eyes glimmered, but his arms around Harry were secure. Harry closed his aching eyes and relaxed into Severus' embrace.

They sat on the floor, cuddled close for comfort, for a long time. When they finally roused themselves to order dinner, they ate quickly and then spent a quiet evening sitting side by side on the sofa. Severus picked up a Potions journal, but Harry didn't bother making a pretense of reading. He just curled up beside Severus and leaned against him. Severus promptly laid the journal aside and wrapped his arms around Harry.

Severus cared for him; really, really cared. Maybe, just maybe, it was even a little bit like how a parent would care. Harry couldn't help smiling at that thought. He felt so safe with Severus. Maybe, just maybe, even loved.

They were quiet. Harry was worn out and drained, and Severus seemed content just to hold him, too. Harry's eyes closed and he felt himself drifting off.

Some time later he woke up enough to realise that Severus was lifting him in his arms, but he stayed in a light doze as the professor carried him to his room, laid him on the bed, and transfigured his clothes to pajamas. Only when Severus moved away slightly did Harry wake up enough to clutch at him.

"Shh, child. I'm not going anywhere." Severus slid into bed beside him and tucked the blanket around Harry's shoulders. "Is it all right with you if I lie here for a little while?"

Harry nodded sleepily. "Stay," he whispered. "Please." He rested his head on Severus' shoulder and felt Severus' arm curl around him. Feeling safer than he had in a long time, Harry fell asleep.

Severus watched him for a while, concerned that he would have nightmares after his emotional breakdown that afternoon. But it seemed to have done Harry some good, and he slept peacefully. It was Severus who suffered terrors in the darkness instead.

There was something heavy lying across his ribcage. Harry blearily opened his eyes and realised that he was lying on his side in his bed, halfway curled up in a ball, and that Severus was lying beside him, sound asleep, with one arm draped protectively across him. While Harry himself was in his plaid flannel pajamas, Severus was still in his black robes. Apparently he'd fallen asleep before he could return to his own room and change into sleepwear.

Harry smiled, closed his eyes, and nestled his face back into his pillow, just enjoying the sense of security, the feeling of being wanted and protected that had always been absent in his life before. He hovered in the comfortable state between dreaming and waking for a while, but gradually he became more alert.

Severus was still deep in sleep, though, which was unusual. Normally, the professor was the first one awake in the mornings. In fact, Harry didn't think he'd ever gotten up before Severus. What time was it, anyway? Very carefully, trying not to disturb his mentor, he slid out from under Severus' arm and sat up so he could reach for his glasses on the night table. Slipping them on, he looked at the small clock also resting on the table.

It was almost nine o'clock in the morning, so they'd both overslept a bit. They'd usually already eaten breakfast and started on lessons by now. But Severus was sleeping so soundly that Harry hated to wake him. Well, he could go ahead and get dressed, and maybe Severus would wake on his own.

Harry slipped out of bed and collected his clothes before heading on to his bathroom to dress. A short time later he came out, wearing his Hogwarts' uniform. Even though he no longer attended classes or went about the school, Severus thought it was appropriate for him to wear his uniform during lesson hours, and Harry didn't mind, really. He actually liked his Hogwarts' clothes. They were the first ones he'd ever had that had fit him properly, and more, they were a symbol of belonging at Hogwarts; a place where he didn't have to go about in Dudley's ill-fitting castoffs, where he was accepted and not starved or thrown into cupboards whenever people got tired of seeing him, where he had friends who truly cared about him. His first real home.

Severus hadn't woken up and Harry crept close, just to make sure that he was all right. But the professor seemed fine and Harry decided that if Severus was that tired, he would just let him rest. He retreated into the living room where he ordered breakfast for the two of them through the Floo. When the plates arrived a few minutes later, he carried them to the dining table, put a Warming Charm on Severus', and began eating his own.

Then he found his parchment and a quill and settled down on the sofa to work on the essay Severus had assigned him in Defense, on the effects and consequences of various disarming spells. Most of their Defense work was practical. They would clear a space in the middle of the room and practise dueling, but Severus had decided the other day, that Harry should thoroughly understand the theories behind the moves, too, so he'd assigned the essay.

Harry had to smile, thinking about their dueling sessions. They were one more example of how Severus cared for him. Long before he'd actually opposed Harry, Severus had had him work on casting defensive and offensive spells. Harry had always been good at Defense, but Severus had still had him spend hours practicing the movements over and over again, until Harry could run through them so quickly and effortlessly, it was almost instantaneous.

They'd worked a lot on nonverbal magic, too, especially in Defense, and Harry was now just as good at performing the spells silently as aloud. Only when Harry could throw up a Shield Charm in the blink of an eye and cast a spell back at him almost without having to think about it, had Severus begun actually dueling with him.

Once, during one of the interminable practise sessions, when Severus had had him repeatedly casting the Shield Charm as fast as he could, Harry had complained and had wanted to know when they could move on to something more exciting. Severus had paused and had given him a steady look.

"Harry," he'd said quietly. "You are exceptionally good at Defense, especially for a wizard your age, which is most fortunate or else you'd likely be dead by now. But for you to have your best chance of succeeding in what lies ahead, you have to become even better. You must be able to act and react instantly, and the only way to become that good is to practise."

Then he'd placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and said, almost a little awkwardly, "We will begin practising against one another soon, but not just yet. I want your timing to be perfect before I ever cast a spell against you. I think you've suffered enough in your short life, Harry, and I don't want to ever hurt you again, even if it's just a small sting from a harmless jinx."

Even now, Harry felt a warm glow at the memory. Severus' intense tutoring had worked, too. None of the professor's spells had ever gotten past Harry's defenses, and Severus didn't hold back either. Harry knew not to let himself grow overconfident...Severus had warned him about that, too, more than once...but he did feel a lot more capable and skilled than ever before.

Harry was smiling as he turned his attention back to his essay.

He'd written one full page and was halfway through the second when Severus finally emerged, from Harry's room, looking uncharacteristically rumpled.

"Why didn't you wake me, Harry?"

Harry looked up with a smile. "You were tired."

"I can't deny that." Severus ran a hand through his dark hair. "I didn't sleep very well."

Harry's smile faded. "I'm sorry, Severus. I shouldn't have asked you to stay with me. I guess I kept you awake."

But Severus shook his head. "It wasn't you, Harry. My dreams were...unpleasant, I'm afraid."

"You had nightmares?" Harry asked in concern. "I thought Occlumency helped with that."

"It often does," Severus agreed. "But as I told you, even Occlumency does not prevent nightmares all of the time. Last night was one of those times."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry offered.

"No, but thank you," Severus responded. He glanced down at himself. "I suppose I'd better freshen up for the day, and then order something to eat."

"Your plate's on the table," Harry gestured. "I put a Warming Spell on it."

"Thank you, again, then." Severus disappeared into his own room and came back out twenty minutes later, clean-shaven and dressed in a clean shirt, trousers, and robes.

Harry grinned at him. "How many black outfits do you own, Severus?"

"Many." Severus gave him a mock glare as he seated himself at the table and began to eat. "You object to my wardrobe?"

"No, but don't you ever want to wear something a bit more colorful?" Harry persisted.

"No."

Have you ever worn anything that wasn't black?"

"Aside from pajamas and underclothes, no, not that I can recall." Severus raised an eyebrow. "Why this sudden need to question my clothing choices, Harry?"

"Just trying to come up with some ideas for your Christmas present," Harry told him innocently. "I think I'll buy you some blue jeans and new shirts. You'd look good in scarlet and gold."

"And you would look good scrubbing cauldrons for the next six months," Severus retorted. He finished his breakfast and came over to sit beside Harry. "I suppose this is what I get for letting a Gryffindor into my life."

Harry knew he was teasing, but he still had to glance over and say quietly, "Do you really wish that I'd..."

"Harry, I was only joking." Severus placed his fingers beneath Harry's chin and turned his face so they were looking into one another's eyes. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, child. Don't you realize that?"

Harry stared into Severus' dark eyes, glimmering with emotion, and he couldn't help but think how much things had changed between them. It was hard to believe that he'd thought Severus cold and unfeeling for all those years. Of course, Severus had been completely different towards him, then.

But now, everything had changed. Harry suddenly remembered a conversation he'd had with Ron and Hermione back in the summer. They'd been talking about Umbridge and how the Weasley parents would have reacted if she'd harmed any of their children. Harry had wished then that he could have someone like a parent, someone of his own who cared for him and protected him.

As he stared into Severus' eyes, Harry knew he'd finally found that person

There was the familiar sense of flying through darkness at breakneck speed as he was pulled from Dumbledore's Pensieve, and then Harry was back in the headmaster's office, standing beside the silver basin with Severus on one side of him and Dumbledore on the other.

Severus was holding his left arm, a fact for which Harry was suddenly grateful. The other trips through the Pensieve had not bothered him, but this time, he felt distinctly shaky. He stumbled slightly, and Severus automatically steadied him. Then, after glancing at Harry, the professor guided him over to an armchair and gently pushed him down before pulling a second chair close and sinking into it.

Severus was looking pale himself, and he ran a hand over his face, a sure sign that he was weary or troubled. Dumbledore gave a flick of his wand, and a third chair slid across the floor to rest before Harry and Severus. He sat and waited in silence. It was a long time before anyone spoke.

Finally Severus looked up. "Horcruxes," he said flatly. "That explains everything, doesn't it?" He shook his head. "Why didn't I see it?"

"Even I didn't suspect for a long time, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "Why would we? Horcruxes are so dark, and so forbidden, very few wizards have ever heard of them, and fewer still have the power to create one, even if they should be wicked enough to have the desire. Throughout the ages, there have only been a handful of attempts at making a horcrux."

"But Voldemort has succeeded." Severus sighed. "This...complicates matters," he continued in a heavy tone.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed calmly. "On the other hand, knowledge is power, and we now have the knowledge to defeat him for once and all. Indeed, we have already destroyed two horcruxes."

"Two?" Severus blanched.

"Surely you noted Tom Riddle's interest in the number seven? I do believe that he would have been most entranced with the idea of creating a seven-part soul," the headmaster nodded, as if to himself.

If it were possible, Severus grew even paler. "Seven? Seven horcruxes?"

"Six," Dumbledore corrected gently. "The seventh piece of soul, warped and maimed as it is, resides in Voldemort's body. And as I said, I believe we've already accomplished the destruction of two."

Feeling dazed and almost sick, Harry halfway listened as his two mentors continued their discussion. He knew he should be paying attention; this was critical information, but he just couldn't concentrate on the words. His mind was still trying to wrap itself around the notion of anyone being so evil as Voldemort (though Harry supposed he really shouldn't be surprised at that), and reeling from the knowledge that he was going to have to locate and destroy all these unknown horcruxes before Voldemort could be defeated.

It was an impossible task.

Dumbledore's and Severus' voices went on and on. Harry tried to focus on them and caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but his thoughts kept running in circles. How in the world could he ever begin to find all those hidden objects that might contain little pieces of Voldemort's soul? And if by some lucky miracle, he did manage to find them all, how could he begin to destroy them? He wouldn't have a clue how to go about it.

When he heard Dumbledore tell him that destroying the ring horcrux had caused the injury to his arm, Harry only nodded, but the feeling of being completely overwhelmed only grew worse. If Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards of all time, couldn't destroy a horcrux without being severely injured, how in the world could Harry hope to succeed?

He clenched his fist and stared down at them, and then, as if he'd sensed Harry's anxiety and hopelessness, Severus reached over and laid his hand over Harry's. Somehow, that touch steadied him and gave him courage.

Harry didn't know how he was going to accomplish this impossible task, but one way or the other he had to. For Severus, for Sirius, for his parents and friends, for all the people Voldemort had hurt or killed or threatened. Harry didn't know how he was going to win, but at that moment, staring down at Severus' hand holding onto his own, he knew he was going to. He had to, because there was no way Harry was going to die and let Voldemort hurt anyone else he loved.

With grim determination, he looked up and began to listen in earnest.

***

"I wish you were coming, too, Harry," Ron said. "It won't be the same without you."

It was the first morning of the Christmas holidays and Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were all getting ready to Floo to the Burrow. The four of them were in Harry's room, saying good-bye before the other teens went up to the Great Hall.

For security reasons, the Ministry had arranged for students to go home through a one-way Floo opening, and everyone had to leave promptly at their designated time. The Gryffindors were the first to leave, immediately after breakfast. Severus had agreed for Hermione and the Weasleys to eat in the dungeons with Harry and himself, so the friends could have a little time together that morning. He'd even eaten breakfast with them, and been more than halfway civil.

But now it was almost time for the others to leave. Harry smiled at them. He would miss them, and part of him was a little sorry not to be going to the Burrow with them, but mostly, he was happy to be spending the holidays with Severus. He wasn't sure that Ron, Ginny, and Hermione could really truly understand because they had always had families who loved them and wanted to be with them. But it was still new and wonderful to Harry, and he was reveling in the idea of spending his first Christmas with Severus.

"I'll miss you guys, too," he told the others. "But I think Severus and I will have a good time, and you're all going to come back and spend part of Christmas Day here, aren't you?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, Mum and Dad got it all arranged with Dumbledore, so we'll see you again next week."

She and Hermione hugged Harry, and then he and Ron slapped each other on the back. They all said, "Happy Christmas," to one another, and then the others left.

As it turned out, all the other students had gone home for the holidays, too, and some of the professors had left as well. With only a handful of people at Hogwarts, and all of them deemed trustworthy, Severus agreed that Harry could leave their rooms and go about the school grounds again, as long as he took one of the two-way mirrors with him, just in case.

The first thing Harry did was get his Firebolt and head out to the Quidditch pitch. It was strange to be out in the castle again, after so many weeks of not being able to leave their rooms in the dungeons, and Harry walked slowly through the deserted corridors, pausing to chat with some of the portraits along the way.

He'd have liked to have seen some of the professors who had stayed, or the ghosts, but no one else seemed to be about so Harry went outside, shivering slightly as the wind buffeted his thick winter cloak. He didn't know if it was unusually chilly or if he'd just been cooped up inside for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to be out in the weather, but it was cold. Still, he was grinning as he crunched through the snow. It was good to be out.

When he came to the Quidditch pitch, he paused and looked around. Memories flashed through his mind: his first game when he and his friends had been convinced Severus was trying to kill him...Harry could laugh about that now; Draco Malfoy and his cronies impersonating dementors and causing him to fall; winning the Quidditch Cup; and most of all, memories of chasing the elusive golden Snitch through sunshine, rain, and even falling snow.

He'd been so busy lately that he hadn't thought much about missing the game or even flying, but now in the midst of his happiness, he felt a wave of sorrow that that part of his life was over. It was, wasn't it? He could only be out now because it was the holidays and everyone was gone. As soon as the students came back, he would have to stay in his rooms again. There was no chance of playing Quidditch again this year, and probably not next year either, unless a miracle happened and he managed to defeat Voldemort before seventh-year began. Not very likely.

And after that, well, who knew what would happen. He'd be old enough to leave Hogwarts and start a career, or at least training for one, if he still wanted to be an auror. But would he really be able to leave Hogwarts? He wasn't safe without Dumbledore's protection, was he?

The words of the prophecy floated through Harry's mind. For neither can live while the other survives.... He'd wondered about that phrase before, because he and Voldemort were both still living at the moment, weren't they? But now Harry understood. He'd never be free to really live his life the way he wanted as long Voldemort existed. He'd always have to be hiding, looking over his shoulder, wondering when Voldemort would strike next. It was no way to live.

Once again, he felt that deep unshakable determination to win this war and destroy Voldemort once and for all. He didn't know how he could do it, but he had Dumbledore and Severus and Ron and Hermione and lots of other people on his side, and he knew they wouldn't fail.

Harry looked up at the cloudy sky and spoke aloud. "We're going to win. We're going to beat you, and you're never going to hurt anyone again."

He leaped onto the Firebolt and took off, zooming around the pitch with ferocious speed, diving and circling and rising again. The wind whipped through his hair and stung his face, but Harry exulted in it. He laughed aloud, a wild fierce joy illuminating his features.

But, wonderful as it was, flying alone wasn't as much fun as flying with someone else, so after a while, Harry headed back to the dungeons and begged until Severus got his own broom and went out to the pitch to fly with him. The professor wasn't quite as gifted a flyer as Harry, but he was good, and even he was smiling when they finally quit racing and went back inside.

That was one of the few times that Severus seemed happy over the holidays. The professor seemed increasingly preoccupied and bothered as Christmas drew near. Harry knew he wasn't sleeping well. He had one nightmare himself and woke up in the middle of the night, and Severus had obviously already been awake. Other mornings Severus came to breakfast with dark circles under his eyes and ate only a few bites before asking about Harry's plans for the day and then disappearing into his office for the rest of the morning.

It was ironic, Harry thought, that just when his own nightmares were getting better, that Severus should start suffering from them. It was frustrating, too, because Severus would not let Harry help him. He tried several times to get Severus to talk about his dreams, but finally gave up when Severus told him bluntly to let it be.

Even worse, Severus seemed to be slowly withdrawing from him. At first Harry didn't notice. The first few days of the holidays, he was busy taking advantage of his temporary freedom. He visited Hagrid and Buckbeak ( now known as Witherwings ), explored the castle, and went flying. He and Severus both went up to the Great Hall for lunch and dinner, and though Severus left him to sit between Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, Harry didn't think much of it the first couple of meals. After all, Severus hadn't seen much of his colleagues lately either, and Harry supposed he wanted to talk with them, and Harry enjoyed sitting between Hagrid and Dumbledore, so none of it seemed terribly important.

But eventually he had to notice that the professor seemed to be downright avoiding him. Severus wasn't unkind, but he was always too busy to do anything with Harry. He spent most of the day locked away in his office, and if Harry tried to talk with him, Severus either brushed him off or made an excuse to hurry away.

Christmas Eve morning Harry decided he'd had enough. He woke early, dressed, and ordered breakfast for the both of them. When Severus emerged from his room a little while later, he looked tired and troubled. He grunted something that might have been a thanks and sat down, staring at the plate for a minute before slowly picking up his fork and eating a bite of ham.

"Severus? Could we go flying again this morning?" Harry asked. "It's supposed to rain all next week and after that the students will be back, so today might be the last day we can fly."

Severus hesitated, but then shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't leave my potions this morning, Harry. You go on and enjoy yourself." Abruptly he dropped his fork and hurried into his office, as if he were eager to get away.

Harry stared after him. "But I wanted to go with you," he said softly.

***

When the professor emerged from his office at noon, Harry was waiting on the sofa. He'd spent the morning trying to figure out what had gone wrong. What could he have done to make Severus not want to be around him anymore?

"Are you ready to go to lunch, then?" Severus asked wearily.

"Couldn't we eat here today, instead of going up to the Great Hall?" Harry looked at him hopefully.

"Why?"

Harry felt awkward, but he really wanted to spend some time alone with Severus, so he made himself say, "Well, it's just been a while since we did anything together...you know, just us. So I thought maybe we could eat here and then play some chess or something, if you don't want to go flying."

Some emotion flickered across Severus' face so quickly that Harry couldn't be sure what it was. But after a moment, he said calmly, "Perhaps another afternoon, Harry. I'm very busy with my potions right now."

"But you worked on them all morning," Harry said, beginning to feel a little desperate. He couldn't lose Severus, too. He didn't even know what he'd done.

"I'm at a critical stage," Severus answered shortly.

"But you worked on them all yesterday, and the day before, too. It's Christmas Eve. Couldn't we do something together? I'll even help with the potions if you want," Harry offered.

"I'm afraid not. I just..."

"You just hate me again," Harry said flatly. "It's all right. You can say it. I'll get my things, and I'm sure Dumbledore can find somewhere else for me to stay."

He moved past Severus, who was standing as if frozen, and made it into his room before the horrible pain overtook him. He leaned against the closed door, taking deep shuddery breaths and pressing his fists against his eyes. He couldn't cry now. Severus would know if he did, and Harry was determined to hang on to his pride. He would wait until he was alone again before letting himself break down. Right now he had to pull himself together and pack. Some Christmas it had turned out to be.

"Harry! Open this door now!"

Harry had started to move away from the door and almost went sprawling as Severus threw it open.

The professor looked slightly flustered, as if he hadn't expected the door to give way so easily. But he quickly recovered and came in, grabbing Harry by the arms and giving him a gentle shake.

"You foolish child! How could you ever think that? Don't you know how I feel by now?" Severus took a deep breath and took Harry's face between his hands. "Harry, I love you. I love you as if you were my own son. In fact,..." Severus took another deep breath. "I had not planned to tell you about this just yet, but perhaps I'd better. Harry, let's sit down."

Feeling stunned, Harry let Severus lead him over to the bed and they sat down side by side. The professor summoned some papers from his own room and hesitantly held them out to Harry.

Harry took the papers, read them, and then just stared at them, wondering if he'd read correctly. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him. It couldn't be what he thought he was seeing.

"These are adoption papers," he finally whispered.

"Yes," Severus nodded. "I've wanted to adopt you for a while, Harry, but then it occurred to me that before I asked you, there's something you have to know."

He swallowed hard. "It's very difficult for me to tell you, and that's why I've been acting strangely these last few days. I knew I had to tell you, and I've been dreading it. I'd made up my mind to wait until after Christmas, to just give you something else for a present. But I didn't realise you were misinterpreting my actions. I'm very sorry, Harry. I never meant to hurt you or to make you doubt my feelings. I could never hate you, child. I love you."

Harry started to say, "I love you, too," but Severus stopped him.

"No," the professor said, shaking his head. "Not yet. You have to hear this first, Harry. You deserve to know this before you make up your mind about the adoption."

Harry shook his head, too, in amazement. As far as he was concerned, there was no question. All his hurt and disappointment and anger had vanished and a great wave of happiness swept over him. Severus didn't hate him. He wanted to adopt him! Harry would finally have a family all his own. Nothing Severus could say could possibly change how Harry felt.

So he looked up happily, waiting for Severus to tell him whatever it was he wanted to tell him, and then Harry would say that it was all right, and of course, he wanted Severus to adopt him.

But then Severus began talking, not looking at Harry, but keeping his eyes fixed on the wall. He spoke in such a low voice that Harry had to listen carefully to hear him. He told about being a young man who had joined the Death Eaters out of his own rage and blindness and sense of persecution. He told about being eager to serve Voldemort and how in that service, he had overheard Dumbledore and Sybil Trelawney talking in a small room in the Hog's Head Inn one evening. He told how he had heard her speak of a prophecy telling of a child who would soon be born, a child who would have the power to defeat the Dark Lord.

And he told Harry how he had run to Voldemort and repeated it all.

Severus turned to him, beseechingly, but Harry jumped to his feet and stared at him in horror.

"It was you," he whispered. "You told him."

"Harry..." Severus reached for him, but Harry spun around, grabbed some powder from the jar on his mantel, and Flooed away.

Harry stumbled, almost falling to his knees, as the Floo spit him out into the drawing room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It hadn't changed much since the last time Harry had been there. It was still dim and gloomy, filled with imposing antique furniture, threadbare rugs and heavy velvet drapes covering the tall windows. A couple of cabinets lined the walls and several tables were scattered across the long room, all filled with the curious and sometimes sinister trinkets and knick-knacks that the Black family had collected over the centuries.

Harry didn't spare a glance at any of them. He rushed out the door and up the narrow staircase in the hall outside. On the second landing he passed the bedroom that he and Ron had shared during the time they'd stayed here before fifth year, but Harry hurried by it and continued upwards.

He'd never been up to the top of the house before, but he didn't even think about why he felt drawn there now. He just raced up the stairs two at a time until he reached the last landing, then he leaned against the wall, breathing hard and blinking back tears.

Severus would come after him, he knew. The professor might be stepping gracefully out of the fireplace downstairs even now. But Harry hoped it would take him some time to find him. He needed a little time alone before he faced Severus again.

Harry took deep breaths and pressed his hands hard against his face, willing the tears to go away. He needed to think, to try to absorb this dreadful news and to decide how he was going to handle things with Severus now.

But he couldn't concentrate. He just kept hearing the professor's quiet, flat voice saying those horrible words again. He kept picturing Severus' thin face, as still and set as stone, his black eyes expressionless, as he told Harry how he had gone to Voldemort with the news of the prophecy.

His parents had died because Voldemort had learned of that prophecy. James and Lily Potter had lost their lives when they were only twenty-one. Harry had lost the two people who had loved him most. He'd lost the chance to have brothers and sisters, and to grow up as part of a real family.

Instead he'd had to live with the Dursleys, suffering from their neglect and abuse. He'd been singled out as a target by Voldemort from the time he was a baby, before he'd been born even. Everything he'd suffered and endured all his life was because of the prophecy...because Severus Snape had run to Voldemort with it, just like a good little Death Eater.

But he was a Death Eater. You knew it before. You knew he served Voldemort and did all kinds of horrible things, probably worse things than this, a voice in the back of Harry's mind pointed out.

But he had never really let himself think about it before. Now he couldn't stop thinking about it. Had Severus tortured people, like Bellatrix LeStrange and the other Death Eaters had tortured him? Had he delighted in it? Had he killed people before?

An image of Severus in Death Eater garb, pointing his wand at innocent victims and coolly pronouncing their fate, rose in Harry's mind. He shook his head violently to get rid of it and opened his eyes.

SIRIUS.

His godfather's name was engraved on a nameplate on the door in front of him, just level with his eyes. Harry blinked and reached to trace the letters with trembling fingers. His grief had eased over the past months, especially since the day he'd sort of exploded at the Death Eaters and cried in Severus' arms for hours. But at that moment a fierce longing to see his godfather again swept over Harry, so strongly it was almost a physical pain.

"Harry!"

It was Severus. His voice was coming from a couple of floors below, and Harry quickly slipped inside Sirius' room before the professor could come up the stairs and find him. He just wasn't able to face Severus yet.

Sirius' room was dark. Crimson drapes covered the window and dust lay in a thick layer over the furniture. Harry glanced about, noting the Gryffindor banner and posters on the walls and an ancient-looking broomstick leaning in a corner. At another time, he might have been intrigued in exploring his godfather's childhood room, but right now, Harry couldn't find the heart to be interested even in that. He crossed the room and sank down with his back leaning against the wall. He didn't know how to respond to Severus. He loved Severus, but at the same time, he was so angry and so hurt with him, that Harry just didn't think he could stand to be around him.

"Harry! I know you're here. We need to talk. Please?"

Severus' voice was coming closer and Harry huddled closer to the wall, hoping that somehow Severus wouldn't notice him, but of course that was a foolish hope.

The professor came to the doorway and paused. "Harry, please..."

Harry was on his feet in a flash. "Go away! I don't want to talk right now!"

Severus took a step closer. "Harry..."

He had to get out of there. He couldn't run out of the room because Severus was blocking the doorway. That only left the window. In a flash Harry had snatched the old broomstick from the corner, flung the window open and soared out. Severus almost caught him, but for once the professor wasn't quite quick enough.

"Harry, get back here! You know..."

There was real fear in Severus' voice now. Harry just registered it as he fought to maintain his balance on the old wobbly broom. He paused, an instant's doubt flashed through his mind. Perhaps he should go back.

A red jet of light hit the broomstick and shattered it. Harry fell, landing on a soft snowbank in a neighbors' small backyard garden, shards of the broom littering the ground beside him. He had a split second to realise that he likely would have broken bones, at the very least, if it hadn't been for the snow, but there was no time to feel grateful.

Four figures in dark hooded robes and masks materialised before him, wands raised. Harry's blood turned to ice and he was struggling to breathe as he jerked his own wand from his pocket and raised it with a shaking hand.

"Protego!" Severus was beside him, throwing a Shield Charm around them both and blocking a string of curses just in time.

Suddenly feeling better, Harry leaped to his feet as adrenaline surged through him. With Severus at his side, perhaps they had a chance.

At first they did. Standing back to back, Harry and Severus managed to keep their Shield Charm reinforced and to send their own spells at the Death Eaters, keeping them at bay. But Harry knew it couldn't last forever. They were outnumbered and they couldn't Apparate away without pausing in their defense and giving the Death Eaters a chance to stun them.

Within minutes, it grew even worse. One of the Death Eaters must have somehow contacted others, because three more suddenly appeared and joined their comrades.

"We have to get out of here," Severus muttered. "Harry, cast a Shield Charm and I'll reinforce it. Then grab my arm. Perhaps..."

A purple light struck him in the chest and Severus abruptly crumpled to the ground, a still dark heap on the silver-white snow.

"Severus!" Harry screamed. His heart felt ripped from his chest, leaving raw agony behind, tearing him in two. Raising his wand, he screamed frantic hexes at the Death Eaters. He had to beat them off, right away, and get help for Severus. Somehow he had to.

Suddenly Dumbledore was there with him and Severus. The old wizard stood straight and tall, placing himself between his protégés and their enemies. Through tear-blurred eyes, Harry saw him point at the Death Eaters with his good hand and the seven of them were enmeshed in ropes, their wands flying from their grasps to land in a harmless pile beside Dumbledore.

The headmaster ignored the wands, though. In the blink of an eye he had swept Severus up in his arms and said quickly, "Grab my arm, Harry."

Harry just had time to wrap his cold fingers in Dumbledore's golden robes and then they were Apparating away. They landed back in the drawing room inside Grimmauld Place and Dumbledore rushed to the fireplace.

"Floo powder." His voice was quiet, but urgent.

Harry grabbed some powder from the vase on the mantel and threw it in as Dumbledore stepped in, still carrying Severus. "Come back to Hogwarts immediately, Harry," he ordered before calling, "Hogwarts infirmary!"

Harry didn't have to be told to follow. The instant the flames had died down after Dumbledore and Severus, he had more powder in hand and leaped into the grate.

When the Floo tossed him out into the infirmary a moment later, Harry saw Severus lying on a nearby cot, his face unusually pale and still, even for him. Dumbledore was already performing spells over him and Madame Pomfrey was hurrying towards them to help.

Harry wanted, desperately, to run over to Severus' side, too. He even took a step towards the cot, but he would just be in the way and might hinder Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey so he made himself stay back and watch in helpless terror.

As the two older wizards worked over the fallen man on the cot, Harry kept seeing Severus lying on the snow, still and unmoving after that curse had hit him. It was just like Sirius all over again. Sirius had died coming to save Harry, and now it was happening again.

But Severus couldn't die. He just couldn't. There were so many things Harry needed to tell him. Harry remembered how angry he'd been, how he had run away when Severus was trying to help him, and he thought he just couldn't bear it. Severus might be dying and it was all Harry's fault. He might never have the chance to tell Severus that it was all right, that of course Harry forgave him and loved him and wanted Severus to adopt him...if Severus would even still want to now.

Finally, after what seemed an interminable time, Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey turned to one another and spoke in quiet voices for a moment before Madame Pomfrey turned and headed back to her office, saying, "I'll get the potions ready for when he wakes up."

Harry raised his head sharply. When he woke up? Did that mean...?

Hope and fear warred in his heart before Dumbledore came over and rested his good hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Severus will recover, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and tears silently slipped down his cheeks. "Are you sure?" he choked.

"I'm sure. He'll need to take some potions and to take things easy for a few days, but he'll be fine." Dumbledore paused. "Harry..."

"I know. It's all my fault. I was so stupid. I deserve anything you want to do to me," Harry said, bitter shame and remorse almost overwhelming him.

"I was going to ask if you were all right," Dumbledore said softly.

"Me?" Harry looked up at him. "But I left school, and then I..."

"I know, and you must not act so foolishly again. Today could have been a tragedy." Just for an instant Dumbledore's voice was stern, but it gentled again. "But I think you know that. I'm sure you won't do anything like this again."

He squeezed Harry's shoulder and went on. "I happened to come down immediately after you'd taken off to Grimmauld Place and Severus explained to me what he'd just told you. I know that news had to come as a blow to you, and while I wish you had not left the school grounds, I can understand how upset you must have been."

"Harry, Severus is truly sorry, for what he did to your family and to others during that time. He has suffered terrible remorse for many years. It was his desperation to atone that led him to become our spy, and that was a burden that I would never have asked anyone to take on." Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Harry, I know you have a right to your anger. You've suffered more than anyone because of Severus' actions. But I just want you to know that he has suffered, too."

"I know." Harry nodded. He looked over at Severus' unconscious form. "Can I stay here with him?"

"Of course. He will likely remain unconscious for a few hours, so don't worry about that." Dumbledore straightened. "Now I must return to Grimmauld Place. Hopefully, our prisoners there are still safely contained."

"Will you be all right, sir?" Harry asked, then realised how foolish that sounded. Despite his arm being injured, Dumbledore was obviously still extremely powerful. He'd subdued all seven Death Eaters with almost no effort, within seconds of his arrival.

But Dumbledore just smiled gently at him and nodded. "Yes, Harry. I plan to contact Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, too, so they'll be there to take custody of our friends and to provide any assistance if it should be needed."

Once he'd gone, Harry looked back at Severus' cot and slowly made his way over to it. He sat down on the edge and hesitantly reached for Severus' hand. It was cold, and Harry rubbed it gently between his his own until it warmed.

There were so many things he'd wanted to say to Severus, and had been terrified that he wouldn't have the chance, but now that they were alone, Harry didn't know how to begin.

Finally he whispered. "Thank you. You saved me again, Severus. You'd probably be angry with me if you were awake and you'd have a right to be. I know I was stupid, leaving the house like that. The Death Eaters almost got me. They would have if it weren't for you."

"I'm sorry. I know that's not good enough, but I'm really, really sorry. I'll never do anything so stupid and careless again, I promise. I was so upset, and I didn't know what to do, how to handle it. But Severus, when I thought I'd lost you, I was so scared."

Harry lay down beside Severus, nestling close and burying his face against the professor's shoulder. He began crying again, his quiet sobs muffled against Severus' soft woolen robes.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I love you, and I want you to be my dad, if you still want to adopt me. But I couldn't blame you if you didn't. I hope you'll forgive me."

Severus stirred slightly, and then his arm curled around Harry, his hand coming up to lightly card through the boy's unruly hair.

"Foolish child. I love you, too."

"You're awake?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry realised what an inane question that was. But Severus just gave an almost imperceptible nod and a quiet, "Yes."

"I'm sorry. I really am. I was just..." Harry began.

"You already said that," Severus remarked, forcing the familiar dryness into his weak tone. He shifted, moving into more of a sitting position, and Harry started to get up, but Severus shook his head and held out his arm.

"Stay...please," he added. He hesitated before admitting in a low voice, "I've been quite concerned about losing you these past few days, and it's...rather nice to have you close by."

Harry smiled and settled into the crook of Severus' arm, gently leaning against him. "It's rather nice for me, too."

They were quiet for a few minutes; then Harry tried again. "I'm sorry, Severus. I know I shouldn't have run away like that. It was stupid and careless. I should have known better."

"Foolish child, how many times are you going to apologise?" Severus rumbled.

Harry sighed. "I just feel so bad. I am foolish and..."

He stopped because Severus had suddenly sat up straight as if he'd just received a jolt of electricity.

"Harry, you do understand that when I say that, I am not truly calling you foolish, don't you?" Severus demanded.

"Well, yeah, I mean I kind of figured you didn't mean it as an insult," Harry said a little awkwardly.

"Of course I don't." Severus sighed. "Terms of endearment come awkwardly to me. The way I was raised...well, they are difficult for me, no matter how much I might care. But I would not want you to misunderstand my intentions." He looked at Harry closely.

Harry nodded. "I know how you feel."

"Good." Severus leaned back against the pillows with a weary sigh.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Harry asked anxiously. "Dumbledore said you would be, but that you would need to rest for a few days."

"I am fine," Severus said. "Perhaps a little weak at the moment, but I'm fine. As soon as Poppy comes around, I shall speak to her about going back to our rooms. I have no intention of spending Christmas in the infirmary."

"It doesn't matter where we spend it, as long as you're all right," Harry told him.

"It does matter." The Professor replied. "I wanted to give you a wonderful Christmas, Harry." He sighed again. "I realise how ridiculous that sounds, now that I've caused you days of unnecessary anguish with my brooding, and then telling you about my role in your tragedy. But I did want our first Christmas together to be special."

His arm around Harry's shoulders tightened slightly, as if wanting to reassure himself of the boy's presence. "I'd intended to ask you about the adoption, but then I thought you needed to know about...my past, and then I couldn't stop worrying. I know how much I've wronged you, Harry, and I can never make up for it all. The only thing I can say is that I'm sorry, and I know how pitifully inadequate that is."

"Not if you really mean it," Harry said.

"Of course I..." Severus' voice suddenly choked and he looked away.

Harry laid his hand on the professor's arm. "Severus, I was really upset at first. Of course I was. I wish you had never been a Death Eater. But you wish it more than anybody, and you've suffered and risked your life many times to try to make up for all that. So I know you're really sorry, and I forgive you."

Severus swallowed. "You would forgive me, just like that? Even though it is my fault that your parents died?"

Harry shook his head. "It isn't your fault my parents died. It's Voldemort's and Peter Pettigrew's." He paused; then added, "Severus, remember how you told me that I shouldn't blame myself for Sirius' death, because that was letting off the people who were really guilty? Well, that goes for you, too."

Severus placed his hands over his face, and his shoulders began shaking. For several long seconds, Harry could only stare at him in amazement. Was Severus actually crying? It seemed impossible. As much as Severus had changed in the past months, Harry still couldn't imagine him weeping.

Yet he was.

Tentatively at first, Harry put his arms around the man and gently patted him on the back, trying to give comfort the way Severus had done for him so many times lately. The professor grabbed him in a fierce hug and held onto him tightly for a few minutes before sitting back and reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry." Severus actually sounded embarrassed. "It's just that I have...for years, I have..."

"It's all right," Harry answered. "And you shouldn't be sorry. I've bawled all over you plenty of times."

He looked away, trying to give Severus a little privacy. After a while, Severus spoke again, sounding more composed. "Thank you, Harry. I can never tell you how much your forgiveness means to me. You have a kind and generous spirit. But I also understand that sometimes, under duress, a person may not always think through all the consequences of an action..."

"Yeah, that's why I flew off at Grimmauld Place, and almost got you killed," Harry muttered, ducking his head in shame. "You should be angry at me, Severus."

Severus sighed. "I suppose we have both proven my point, but my actions have still been much worse than yours, Harry. But what I am trying to say is that you have not had much time to consider if you truly wish for me to adopt you. You had just been very frightened for my life, and you were emotional. Perhaps you should take more time to think about the matter with a clear mind?"

"I don't need to think about it," Harry paused and then looked at Severus uncertainly. "Unless you're not sure anymore?"

"I have been sure for weeks now," Severus said softly. "Harry, I would be very honored if you would agree to be my son."

"Yes, I'd love that," Harry whispered.

Severus enfolded him in his arms and Harry hugged him back. He felt simultaneously stunned and happier than he could ever remember feeling before, until a sudden thought struck him like a bucket of ice water and he sat back to gaze anxiously at Severus.

"But what about the Dursleys and the blood wards? That's the whole reason Dumbledore always made me go back to them. What if he won't let me be adopted?"

"It is not Albus' decision," Severus said firmly. "However, Albus and I have already discussed the matter and he is quite pleased. It wouldn't be wise to have you return to Privet Drive this summer anyway, regardless of whether I adopted you or not."

At Harry's puzzled look, Severus explained further, "You will be seventeen years old this summer, Harry, and technically you will come of age, though most wizarding families do not consider their children completely grown for another couple years. But according to the law, you will be an adult, and the wards that have protected you so far will fail at midnight of July 31st. If you went back, I suspect Voldemort would simply surround Privet Drive and wait for your birthday. You would be a sitting duck, as the Muggle phrase goes. It will be much safer for you to be hidden in another location from now on."

"Oh," Harry nodded. "That makes sense. Well, good then. Dumbledore won't try to stop us."

Severus laid a hand on his shoulder. "Even if he did object, I would still adopt you, Harry. The only thing that concerned me was whether you would approve or not. And I already promised you a long time ago that you would not have to face the Dursleys alone again. If it had come to that, I would have stayed at Privet Drive with you."

An image of his aunt's and uncle's expressions if Severus Snape had insisted on moving into Privet Drive for the summer made Harry grin. "They would have had fits. They'd probably have had to be hospitalised. Oh!" Harry's grin faded, to be replaced by a look of alarm. "But will Voldemort try to hurt them anyway, once the wards fail? He knows they're my relatives and they're Muggles. He'll go after them, won't he?"

"Don't tell me you're concerned for them, after the way they've abused you all these years," Severus growled.

"Well, yeah. I mean, they're horrible people, but I don't want them to be killed or tortured. They don't deserve that. Nobody does."

Severus just looked at him for a few seconds, then he pulled Harry close and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "You are a very good person, child, and you're right. I suppose they don't deserve that, though they do deserve some kind of punishment. I believe Albus is already making plans to send them into hiding as well, if they can be persuaded to go."

"They have to go, whether they agree or not," Harry told him. "If they won't go on their own, someone will have to make them go. We can't let Voldemort get them."

Severus nodded. "We will do our best to keep the Dursleys safe, Harry."

Harry smiled at him. "Thanks, Severus." He frowned slightly, tilting his head at the professor. "Um, what should I call you now?"

"Whatever you are comfortable with," Severus replied. He was quiet for a moment; then said slowly. "Harry, you know that your father and I were enemies during our school years, and it is hard for me to let go of those feelings. But you should know that James Potter did grow to be a good man, and he was a devoted father to you. I respect that, and I respect that you have feelings of love and loyalty to him. That is as it should be. I just want you to know that I'm not trying to take his place in your heart. I would love for you to call me ‘Dad' if you want, but if you want to continue calling me by my first name that is perfectly fine, too. You've already given me so much joy, just by forgiving me and allowing me to adopt you."

Harry ducked his head, feeling embarrassed even though he reveled in Severus' words. He thought for a few minutes and then looked up into Severus' dark eyes.

"I do love my mum and dad, and they'll always be my parents. But they can't be here for me, and since they can't, I think they'd want me to have someone who loves me and who can help me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think it's all right for me to have two fathers. So if you don't mind, I think I could get used to calling you ‘Dad'."

Severus carded his fingers through Harry's hair. "I think I could get used to hearing it."

***

Severus and Madame Pomfrey argued over whether he should stay overnight in the infirmary, but Severus was adamant about returning to his own rooms, and as he was no longer actually injured, just weak, she finally gave in after giving him stern instructions to take his potions and rest.

Once they were back in their dungeon quarters, Harry helped Severus to the sofa...he wanted Severus to go to bed, but Severus insisted that he could rest just as well lying on the sofa. Harry did fetch a pillow and blanket for him, though, and cheerfully ignored Severus' protests as he stuck the pillow behind the professor's...his father's head and spread the blanket over him.

"Harry, I am not five years old. I do not require being tucked in."

"Please, Dad. I'm worried about you." Harry said softly.

Severus sighed and acquiesced by lying back against the pillow. "Very well, then. I'll lie down for a little while before dinner."

"Don't worry about dinner. I'll just order us something from the kitchens." Harry sat down on the floor beside the sofa and leaned against it. One of the armchairs would have been more comfortable, but he wanted to stay close to his father.

"You'll do no such thing. We shall go to the Great Hall for the Christmas dinner," Severus replied.

Harry frowned. "But Sev...Dad, Madame Pomfrey said for you to rest. I'm pretty sure she didn't mean for you to go upstairs for dinner."

Severus arched an eyebrow at him. "I am perfectly capable of sitting at the table for an hour, Harry."

Harry was starting to argue with him when Dumbledore's voice called out a cheery welcome and both Harry and Severus turned to see the headmaster's face smiling at them from the fireplace.

"Would it be all right if I came down for a second?" Dumbledore asked, and when Severus agreed, the Floo roared to life and then the old wizard was stepping spryly into the living room to join them.

"I just wanted to be certain you're all right, Severus," he said. "And to let you both know that the Death Eaters we captured this afternoon are in custody and will very likely be heading to Azkaban soon."

"You captured them, sir," Harry told them. "They would have gotten me without Severus and you there to help." He felt a niggle of fear at the memories. This afternoon could have so easily ended in disaster, as Dumbledore had said earlier. He could have been captured again, taken back to Voldemort to be tortured and killed. Severus could have died. So many things could have gone wrong.

And for all his newfound skills in dueling, he hadn't been able to defeat even the Death Eaters. How was he going to win against Voldemort himself?

A warm hand settled on his shoulder. "Harry? You look troubled. What's wrong?"

Harry looked up to see his father gazing at him in concern, and he made himself smile a little. "Nothing, really. I was just thinking how badly everything could have ended today, and...well, if I can't even beat Death Eaters, how am I going to beat Voldemort?"

Dumbledore sat down in a nearby chair. "There is no point in dwelling on what might have happened. Just learn from your mistakes and try not to repeat them. And as far as the battle itself, Harry, I think you did well."

As Harry gaped at him, Dumbledore nodded firmly. "Yes, you did. You were outnumbered and when I arrived, you were facing them alone. Yet you managed to hold them off. I was impressed, Harry, and I have no doubts that you will continue to improve. In any case, I'm not certain that the key to victory lies in overpowering Voldemort, not in the sense of dueling anyhow."

"But how, then?" Harry asked in bewilderment. "How else am I supposed to defeat him?"

"I don't know the answer to that, I'm afraid, Harry, but you didn't conquer him in a duel the last time you defeated him, now did you?" Dumbledore responded.

Harry shook his head. "But that wasn't me. It was because my mother gave her life for me. It wasn't anything I did."

"Well, we just never know how love will end up protecting us." Dumbledore gave him a gentle smile. "But try not to worry, Harry. I have complete faith in you."

Severus squeezed his shoulder. "As do I."

Harry twisted his head to smile up at him, then turned back to Dumbledore, still smiling. "Thank you, sir."

"You're most welcome." The headmaster stood up. "Well, I suppose I should be going and let you rest, Severus. Happy Christmas, my boys."

"Happy Christmas, sir," Harry glanced at Severus and added, "Dad and I will see you tomorrow."

"We'll see him in a half-hour at the Christmas dinner," Severus said stubbornly.

Dumbledore beamed at them. "First, congratulations on the adoption. Harry, I'm so happy for you. Severus, didn't I always tell you that you would like Harry if you gave him half a chance? And while you're already scowling at me, I'm going to pull rank for once and say that I'd best not see you out of your rooms before dinnertime tomorrow evening. Poppy is quite correct. You need to rest, not gallivant around the school."

"I do not gallivant. That is your style, not mine," Severus retorted. "And I will remain here only on the condition that Harry goes up to the Hall anyway."

Harry twisted around again to look at him. "But I want to stay with you."

"Harry, you have to stay cooped up down here so often now. I want you to enjoy your freedom now while you can. I wanted you to have a wonderful Christmas and nothing is working out the way I'd planned."

"This is already the best Christmas I'll ever have," Harry said seriously. "I've always dreamed about having my own family, and you've given it to me. I want to eat Christmas dinner with my father. Please, Dad?"

Severus gently stroked his son's hair. "How can I refuse?"

"I will have the elves send down an enormous platter just for the two of you, and tomorrow evening, we can have another feast with the Weasleys and Miss Granger here to enjoy it with us," Dumbledore said. His blue eyes twinkled at them. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a spin on my ice skates before dinner. I do believe hell just froze over."

Harry woke early on Christmas morning. For a while he just lay in bed, remembering the events of the previous day. It had definitely been one of the most exciting Christmas Eves he'd ever had, and one of the most rewarding.

A father. He finally had a father, someone all his own who would love him and protect him and guide him. Harry was unable to keep a big smile from crossing his face as he thought about last evening. After dinner, he and Severus had filled out the adoption paperwork and summoned Dumbledore, who as head of the Wizangamot, had authority to approve it. Dumbledore had immediately signed and sealed the papers, and just like that, Harry and Severus were officially a family.

Dumbledore had conjured a bottle of fine wine and they had all celebrated by drinking a glass. Then the headmaster had left them alone. Harry and Severus had settled themselves on the sofa and begun a game of chess, but Severus had apparently been more tired than he'd wanted to admit. He'd drifted off to sleep in the middle of it so Harry had quietly moved the board aside and read one of his favorite books, Quidditch Through the Ages, instead.

The night had grown late and Harry had debated over whether he should wake Severus or leave him sleeping on the sofa. His bed was more comfortable, but it seemed rather silly to wake someone just so he could try to go back to sleep. Severus had solved the dilemma himself, waking on his own when the clock struck midnight.

He'd lightly scolded Harry for sitting up so late, but then had given him a long, fierce hug and when they'd stood apart, he'd carded his fingers through Harry's hair and said gently, "Good night, son."

It was the first time Harry could remember anyone ever calling him ‘son' as a parent would and now, lying in bed remembering, he grinned to himself again.

He was somebody's son now. He had a father.

An image of Lily and James Potter came to his mind, and Harry wondered if they'd ever called him ‘son' or some other nickname.

You don't mind, do you? He silently asked them. I know you and Severus didn't get along, Dad...well, I guess that's an understatement, really. But so much has changed since then. You would want me to be with someone who really loves me and wants me, wouldn't you? The Dursleys never did, and I used to feel so alone. But not anymore. Severus really does love me and I love him. I love both of you, too. Of course I do, but you can't be here. I really need Severus and maybe it's crazy, but I think he needs me, too. Well, I hope you're happy for me. I think you are. I'll always love you.

Underneath the warm glow of happiness, Harry felt a pang of sorrow but he truly did think that Lily and James were happy for him, wherever they were, and slowly the sadness faded. It wasn't a day for sorrow, after all.

There was a knock on the door between the two bedrooms and Harry looked over to see his father waiting, his warm robe wrapped over silk pyjamas.

"Happy Christmas," Severus said, almost solemnly.

Harry hurried over to throw his arms around him. "Happy Christmas, Dad."

He stepped back to study Severus anxiously. "How do you feel?"

"I am perfectly fine," Severus assured him. "I was well enough last night, simply a bit weak and tired. But I'm rested now and completely recovered."

Harry kept studying him. Severus had a tendency to downplay his own well-being...Harry had learned that, but his father did seem all right. After a moment Harry relaxed.

"Let's go eat breakfast," he suggested.

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I always thought young people were more interested in opening gifts on Christmas morning than eating, but whichever you wish..."

"Gifts?" Harry stared at him. "I mean, I have gifts for you, but you already gave me mine yesterday, didn't you? I thought the adoption was my present."

"How could the adoption be your present when it's made me so happy?" Severus asked softly. He shook his head. "Of course I have gifts for you, foolish child."

For a second, Harry felt that almost overwhelming emotion that he'd felt when the Weasleys had given him his first birthday party last summer, and he had to wonder why there was such a huge lump in his throat when he was so happy. It was a moment before he could nod and speak, though his voice was slightly rough.

"Well, let's go open presents then."

"Put on your robe and slippers first." Severus heaved a mock sigh. "Unless you actually want to catch your death of cold."

So Harry grabbed his own robe and shoved his feet into slippers. He took several gift-wrapped boxes from his wardrobe and then they headed to the living room. Harry's mouth dropped open at the sight of a small tree, glowing with tiny white lights and golden decorations, and with a pile of brightly-papered boxes underneath.

"This wasn't here last night." He looked at Severus in amazement.

Severus smirked. "Well, I woke a couple hours ago and realized that with everything else that happened, we never did get around to decorating yesterday, so I asked your house elf friend if he could assist me in making the place look a bit more festive. I did wrap the presents myself," he added. "Last week in my office. The elf only brought us the tree."

Harry grinned. "It's amazing."

He sat on the floor by the tree, and Severus flicked his wand and one of the armchairs scooted over for him.

Harry handed him a long flat package, decorated in Gryffindor scarlet and gold. "Here, Dad. You go first."

Severus rolled his eyes at the decorations, but Harry thought he seemed touched nonetheless. He carefully removed the paper and opened the box; then lifted out a long-sleeved emerald-green shirt, finely woven from a soft silky material. A pair of grey woolen trousers lay underneath.

"I did tell you I was going to get you some new clothes, but you can wear these...they're Slytherin colours," Harry teased. It was partly a joke, but at the same time he did hope Severus would like the clothes.

"They're lovely. I shall wear them when we go up to the Great Hall," Severus told him and Harry beamed.

His father gestured to the pile under the tree. "Now it is your turn."

They spent a happy hour sharing their gifts. Harry received more clothes than he'd ever dreamed of owning, a new pair of trainers and a new winter cloak. He also got a new and larger cage for Hedwig, a biography of famous Quidditch players, a CD player, and the Weird Sisters' latest CD. He gave Severus a surprised look at that one.

Severus shrugged. "Your friend Mr. Weasley thought you might like it."

He'd bought Severus several jars of rare potions ingredients, a CD of classical music, and a photo album with a dark green leather binding.

"Open it," Harry instructed when his father came to the photo album. He came to perch on the arm of Severus' chair so they could look at it together.

In the middle of the page was a photograph of the two of them sitting side by side on the sofa, heads bent close over a book, Severus in his dark robes and Harry in his school uniform. As they watched, the small Severus in the picture placed an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him close in a one-armed hug.

"I don't remember anyone taking a photograph of us," Severus murmered.

"I asked Dumbledore for help," Harry explained. "He said he had a specially-designed miniature camera and one day when he was visiting he took the photograph for me."

"Very Slytherin of you," Severus smiled and gazed at the picture for a few more seconds before slowly closing the cover. "I suppose I shall have to invest in a camera of my own now."

He gestured towards the tree, where one more wrapped package waited, a large rectangular one in sparkling red paper with a golden bow. "You have one more present to open, Harry."

Harry just looked at him for a moment. "You've already given me so much, Dad."

"I wanted to at least attempt to make up for all the past Christmases I've missed," Severus began.

But Harry shook his head. "I didn't mean just all this stuff. You've saved my life. You've given me a home and a family. I can never thank you enough, or tell you how much it all means to me. Just...I used to feel so alone. Now I don't."

Severus reached over to gently squeeze his hand.

"You are not the only one who used to feel alone," he said quietly, gazing at their intertwined fingers. "Albus gives me a bottle of mead each year, but other than that, I've never received a Christmas present until now. I've never shared the holiday with anyone until now."

Acting on a sudden impulse, Harry bent and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his father's head. Then he jumped up and went over to the last gift.

"Hmm, this is pretty big." He dropped to his knees and began ripping into the paper, laughing a little as he did so.

But when the paper was off, he just said softly, "Wow."

It was a trunk, made of dark shining leather and wood, with a fancy crest of some kind engraved on the top. At first Harry thought it was new, but upon closer examination he could see a few small nicks and scratches. Still, the trunk had obviously been well-cared for and was handsomely made.

Severus seemed a bit embarrassed. "It was my old trunk when I was at school. The markings on top are the Prince family crest. The Princes were my mother's family. I thought, perhaps now that you are my son, you might like to have it. It's not new, of course, but it is in excellent condition, and it's been spelled with a wizard-space charm, so it can hold an enormous amount inside."

He paused. "Of course if you prefer your own trunk, that's all..."

Harry interrupted him. "I love it. It's my favourite present because it was yours. Thanks, Dad."

Severus inclined his head. "You are welcome."

They ordered breakfast and took their time eating; then dressed for the day. True to his word, Severus wore the shirt and trousers that Harry had given him though he looked self-conscious at first, while Harry wore a red jumper and jeans, along with his new pair of trainers.

He listened to the Weird Sisters CD in his room for a little while and then went back out to the living room to join his father. They resumed their chess match from the night before while the wireless in the corner quietly played Christmas carols.

The calm was broken after lunch when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the twins, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione Flooed in from the Burrow. There was a great round of hugs, handshakes, and "Happy Christmas"es. Then Harry pulled Ron, Ginny, and Hermione off to the side.

"You guys won't believe what I got for Christmas," he told them, feeling as if he might burst from joy.

"A new broom?" Ron asked.

"Tickets to a Quidditch match? But no, you're not supposed to be going out." Ginny frowned as she thought.

Hermione clapped her hands. "A copy of Vancoot's Modern Anthology of Ancient Runes!"

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "No."

"Well?" They all looked at him expectantly.

"A dad." Harry beamed.

They all just stared at him.

"What?" Ron finally asked.

"Severus adopted me. He's my father now."

As he looked around at their stunned faces, he felt a glimmer of nerves. They would be happy for him, wouldn't they? They were all getting along better with Severus now, and they knew how much it meant to him to have a family of his own.

"Huh. Didn't see that one coming," Ron stared hard at Harry and then stepped close and put his hand on Harry's arm. "You're really happy about this, mate?"

Harry nodded. "I love Severus," he said quietly. He felt a little embarrassed to state his feelings so bluntly in front of his friends, but it was the truth and he wanted them to know. "And he loves me. We really need each other."

Hermione came close too, and hugged him. "That's wonderful, Harry."

Ginny smiled and hugged him, too, when Hermione moved away. "Congratulations, Harry."

The girls moved off and Ron and Harry studied each other.

"You're okay with it, aren't you, Ron?" Harry finally had to ask. He stared at Ron, tensely waiting for his best friend's reply.

"If he ever does anything to hurt you, like before..." Ron began slowly.

"Ron, he won't. He's my dad now. He loves me."

Ron's face turned red, but he spoke without hesitation. "You're my brother, Harry, and I love you too. I just don't want you to get hurt anymore."

"I'm not going to get hurt, not by my dad," Harry said. "I'm happier than I've ever been."

Ron's face slowly spread into a smile. "Well then, I'm happy for you."

The two of them stood grinning at each other...like a pair of idiots, Harry thought, until suddenly Fred and George came bounding over.

"What's this about you getting adopted, Harry?" Fred demanded.

George just shook his head. "Never thought the day would come when Snape would be part of the family."

"Hey, Harry, you actually got him out of the bat clothes," Ron whispered.

"And don't anyone say a word about it, or he'll never wear them again." Harry gave them all a fierce stare, concentrating in particular on Fred and George who gave him identical innocent smiles.

But apparently even they weren't brave enough to make jokes within Severus' hearing and everything went peacefully. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed overjoyed to hear that Harry and Severus were now father and son. Mrs. Weasley gave them both tearful hugs, much to Severus' consternation, while Mr. Weasley pumped their hands up and down with such vigor that Harry's arm actually ached.

Once the greetings were over, they all settled down to exchange more gifts. Harry got another Weasley jumper. This one was one of Mrs. Weasley's better efforts, a dark red one with a black H embroidered on the front. He noticed that Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were wearing similar ones; Hermione's a powder blue with a pink H, Ginny's a deep purple with a lavender G, and Ron's a dark blue with a golden R.

"Finally convinced her maroon's not my colour," Ron muttered when he noticed Harry looking.

The twins were in jeans, white shirts, and their lurid green dragon-hide vests, though Ginny said they'd received Weasley jumpers too, as had Bill and Fleur.

"Should've seen Phlegm turn up her nose at it," she grumbled.

"Aw, be fair, Gin. I think that was more because Mum did hers in bright orange and mustard yellow," Ron said.

Ginny just sniffed and handed Harry a gift. "Here, Harry. This is from me."

It turned out to be a box of owl-treats and a small stuffed owl that was a miniature replica of Hedwig.

"Ron said no guy your age would want a stuffed animal, but it looked so much like Hedwig I just couldn't resist." Ginny glanced Hermione's way and grinned. "At least it's not a homework planner."

"Hey!" Hermione said indignantly.

"I love my homework planner," Ron assured her. Hermione leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, which of course led to Fred and George leaping on him and making all kinds of teasing remarks, but Ron just laughed and pushed them away. Harry noticed that he and Hermione held hands after that.

Ron gave him another Quidditch book, a thick one filled with photos of great matches from the past hundred years, and the twins gave him a big box filled with supplies from the joke shop.

Harry gave both Ron and Ginny new Quidditch gloves, and a Chudley Cannons jersey for Ron, too. He gave Hermione a book, a stack of new parchment and quills, and the twins some vivid red shirts ("Thought they'd look good with your vests," he smirked), which they promptly insisted on changing into.

The adults had presents for one another, too. Even Severus chuckled when it turned out that he and the Weasleys had given one another the exact same bottle of wine.

"Ah well, great minds think alike," Mr. Weasley said, cheerfully slapping Severus lightly on the back.

Severus looked completely startled for a moment, as if he might take offense, but then his lips quirked and he relaxed. "Yes, indeed."

The predicted rain was holding off and soon the young people decided to go down to the Quidditch pitch and play a quick game before dinner. Harry glanced at Severus, knowing his father wasn't always comfortable around people he didn't know well, but he was gratified to see that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had managed to put him at ease and the adults were sipping tea and chatting comfortably.

Harry had a great time playing Quidditch, and he hoped that he would be able to play regularly again at some point in time, even if it didn't seem possible for him this year. He and Ginny had several close races for the Snitch. She caught it once, her fingers closing over it just a fraction before his could, and then Harry caught it twice.

Ron and George played Keepers for each team, and both did well. Ron was a little nervous at first, but then he seemed to settle down while George was, as always, both cavalier and talented. Fred and Hermione played Chasers, but they took turns switching sides because as Hermione herself readily admitted, she was a lousy player and it was only fair to swap her around.

Before long it was time to head back to the Great Hall for dinner. They met up with the Weasley parents and Severus, but before they went in, Severus pulled Harry over to the side and said softly, "Albus would like to announce the adoption at dinner. Do you have any objections?"

Harry shook his head. "No, of course not."

Severus patted his shoulder and they followed the Weasleys into the Hall. Once again, the House tables had vanished, to be replaced by a smaller round table. Most of the other professors were there, and there were a few moments of everyone greeting one another. Then they all sat down, except for Dumbledore who welcomed the Weasleys and wished everyone a Happy Christmas.

Then he looked over at Severus and Harry, seated together on the opposite side of the table and his blue eyes twinkled.

"Before we begin enjoying another marvelous feast, I have a very special announcement. Our own Professor Snape has become a father."

The other staff members stared at Severus in stunned silence while he scowled at Dumbledore.

The headmaster just gave him a beatific smile back. "Yes, Professor Snape and Mr. Potter have decided to become a family. The adoption was finalised yesterday."

There was another few seconds of silence, and then a great buzz of chatter arose. Everyone was calling congratulations to Severus and Harry. Hagrid came around and pulled Harry into a bone-crushing hug, tears rolling down his cheeks. A few of the other professors, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick, came over to shake hands with both of them, and it was some time later before everyone finally began eating the roast goose, vegetables, and potatoes.

After the dinner, everyone still wanted to stand around and talk, and it was late before the Weasleys and Hermione left to go back to the Burrow, with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny promising to see Harry again soon. It was even later when Severus and Harry were able to escape back to their rooms.

They changed into pyjamas and when Harry came back out to the living room, Severus had ordered cups of cocoa and a small dish of biscuits. Harry smiled his thanks and curled up on the sofa next to him.

"Umm, this is good. Want one?" Harry sampled a butterscotch biscuit and offered another one to Severus.

The professor took a small bite. "I am not inordinately fond of sweets, but I will admit that this is passably good."

"It's delicious and you know it." Harry took a second biscuit and leaned against his father. "Thanks for everything, Dad." He yawned. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had."

Severus' arm slipped around his shoulders. "For me as well."