1979

Severus allowed himself a rare smile as he watched Lily twirling a strand of her scarlet hair around a slender finger; the tip of her pink tongue pressed between her lips as she hunched over the new Charms text that her favorite old professor, Flitwick, had sent to her that morning.

Severus, in contrast, sat as straight as Lily’s old squashy chair would allow, his Potions journal neatly waiting on the small table next to him. In one of his calloused hands, he held the wine glass Lily had handed him almost as soon as he’d stepped through the door earlier that evening. Severus brought the glass to his lips slowly, keeping his eyes on his wife’s petite form.

He never tired of gazing at Lily; it was still a wonder to him that she had wanted him at all. That Lily had finally found Severus to be something more, after years of insisting that they be simply friends. Severus took another slow sip of his wine and allowed his mind to trace back to his and Lily’s seventh year at Hogwarts.

James Potter had been after Lily for years of course, but it was only in their final year of school that James had begun pressuring her in earnest. Severus had watched the popular raven-haired Quidditch captain applying his considerable charms to his redheaded friend and heeverus had realized almost immediately that Lily would soon be lost to him forever. It had therefore frankly stunned him the night Lily sought him out after a day in Hogsmeade spent with James.

And when Severus escorted Lily back to Gryffindor Tower the next morning, they had met an extremely irate trio of Marauders in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. Naturally, Black had threatened to “hex the sneer right off of Snivellus’ face” while Lupin half-heartedly restrained his other friend, a trembling though peculiarly reticent Potter. Lily had looked at all of them with apologetic eyes, though for Severus she had offered a small smile before she went through the portrait hole. Lupin had shepherded his two friends in after her and Severus had made his way down the moving staircases with a smile.

“Sev,” Lily broke into his thoughts and Severus focused on his wife once more. She wasn’t looking at him, though; her full attention rested on the Charms text. “I think we can do it,” she told him, and at her words, Severus stood and crossed the room with his stomach in knots.

Lily reached her hand absently toward Severus, not taking her gaze off the book, though she did squeeze her husband’s hand as he took it gently. Severus sat down elegantly in the chair opposite Lily and waited for her to continue. Finally, Lily looked up from the text and sighed.

“What is it?” Severus asked. Lily shook her head, making her pretty hair brush delicately across her cheeks. Without thinking, Severus reached out his free hand to gently smooth a few soft strands with the tips of his fingers. Lily smiled at his caress, her green eyes shining.

Severus let his hand fall back against his thigh, allowing his second smile of the evening to rest upon his thin lips. Lily leaned back in her chair, reaching again for a strand of hair to twist it nervously between her fingers.

“Sev, a charm like this has never been cast before,” she said. “I don’t know if it will work, but I think it’s our only chance right now.”

Severus frowned as Lily worried her bottom lip between her teeth, tensing as she fell silent. The guilt pushed at him, and he pressed the heel of his hand into his upper thigh, fighting to release the tension coursing through him. After a moment of careful occlusion to bring himself back under control, Severus relaxed his hand.

“Lily,” he said quietly andLily brought her eyes back up to Severus’ face. Severus knew she had recognized his tone; it was obvious from the resigned expression on her face. He knew as well what she was going to say in response to his oft-repeated plea. That didn’t stop Severus saying it once again, no matter how much the words galled him.

“Potter can keep you safe. There would be no need for the charm. We could still-”

But Lily didn’t even let Severus finish the entire soliloquy this time. Her jaw was set stubbornly and Severus had only belatedly noticed she had released her gentle grip on his hand; his hand felt strangely empty as it rested on his leg. Lily’s small hands were now fisted on the arms of her chair.

“No, Severus,” she said firmly. “We’ve been through this a dozen times. You are my husband and I don’t care how dangerous it is.”

Severus’ jaw tightened, his anger evenly matched with Lily’s. No matter that he had vowed over and over that he wouldn’t allow his easily stoked temper free during these discussions; his temper apparently had other plans. “We are not talking about a simple danger, Lily. Voldemort is not any mere wizard. And, my mother does not make idle threats.” The clear warning in his voice was completely ignored by his wife as she rose swiftly from her cushy chair; the Charms text fell to the wooden floor with a clatter.

“I will not be frightened into hiding by that bastard, Severus. And I don’t care about your mother’s threats. I will make the Charm work. I don’t care what it takes.” Lily folded her arms stonily over her chest and glared at her husband, who by this point had risen to stand in front of his furious wife.

“And if it does not work, Lily… What then?” Severus demanded. “My mother will make good on her threat against you. And I will not allow that.” He looked away then, emotion making his voice raw when he spoke again. “Even the prospect of you with James Potter is bearable in comparison to what Eileen would do to you.”

Lily had closed the space between them even before Severus had finished speaking. She reached her small hands behind Severus’ neck and pulled him toward her. Severus unclenched his arms in response, but left them dangling by his side.

With practiced ease, Lily pulled her warm body closer to her husband’s until her breasts were pressed up against his chest, and Severus responded immediately, bringing strong arms around her waist to clasp her to him in a firm embrace. Lily tilted her face up to his, and without hesitation, Severus’ lips met hers. She kissed him gently before resting her head on his chest.

With a start, Severus realized Lily’s manipulation and he shook his head ruefully. “Lily,” he chided her gently. Lily smiled into her husband’s shirt and Severus brought a hand up to her head to gently run his fingers through the fiery locks. “This is a serious matter,” he tried again. Lily didn’t answer except to trail her hands slowly up Severus’ back. He sighed and kissed the top of her head before pulling her slightly away from his chest.

Lily looked up at him , her bright eyebrows slightly furrowed. When Severus remained quiet, Lily shook her head at him. “I know it is, Sev. And I am taking it seriously. But I can’t just give you up.”

“I will agree for the time being, Lily,” Severus said gravely. “But, if the Charm does not work, the original plan will have to proceed.” Severus braced himself as he waited for the tirade he expected would be directed at him, but Lily only nodded her head. Severus felt her body heave as she took a deep breath.

“All right,” she said quietly. Determination though, glinted in her eyes as she said brusquely, “But, I am going to make it work.”

Severus restrained the urge to snap at her. He knew she was only agreeing because she didn’t believe her Charm would fail, and he knew as well that Lily would fight him for another solution if it did, but Severus would find no other solution in this.

And, if Lily’s Charm did indeed fail, Severus intended to hold her to her promise, no matter how it would destroy him to do so. Potter, he thought bitterly, would keep his wife safe from the Dark Lord. There was no one else Severus would trust to do so.

--

Severus nodded once when he made eye contact with his mother across a bistro several weeks later; Eileen narrowed her dark eyes as she followed his progress to the table.

“Mother,” he intoned as he slid silently into his chair.

“You will take the Mark tonight,” Eileen said. It wasn’t a question, but Severus could hear the slight tremor in his mother’s voice. Part of him felt pleased that he could trouble his mother in this way, to bring her long-dead emotions uncomfortably to the surface.

“Yes,” Severus answered her simply, and he watched her relax visibly; a simple uncurling of her claw-like fingers on the table.

“It disgusts me that you do this to keep your friends safe.”

Severus restrained the muscles in his jaw as they fought to tauten; his mouth stayed perfectly relaxed as his mother studied his reaction. “It matters not why I do it, Mother,” he told her in an even tone.

“To the Dark Lord, it will matter.”

Again, Severus forced calm to the surface of his mind as he schooled his features into a mask of calm. “My thoughts are my own.”

At that, Eileen was forced to concede. Though his father had been a harsh taskmaster in their almost daily Occlumency lessons, the results had been a power far exceeding his father’s original ability to conceive of. Severus found himself this day uncharacteristically grateful for his father’s teaching.

“Was there anything else?” Severus asked his mother formally. Eileen shook her head and waved a hand in dismissal.

As Severus stood up to leave, Eileen studied him again. “Even as you obey your father’s last wish for you, still you bring him shame.” The words were meant to wound deeply, but Severus had long since grown past the childish desire to please those who had given him life.

He simply raised a black eyebrow in his mother’s direction before turning away. He felt his mother’s eyes on him as he walked out the door. Steeling himself, Severus found a secluded spot and Apparated to Voldemort to begin the first phase of their plan to safeguard Lily.

--

Hours later, Severus stumbled into the parlor of his and Lily’s home after a rather rough Apparition. Lily scrambled over to him and caught him around the waist before he fell.

Another pair of arms grabbed hold of his upper arms, steadying him and guiding him over to Lily’s favorite chair. Strong arms, he realized, but Severus didn’t have the strength to look up. He grasped blindly for Lily’s hand, which caught his almost instantly and Severus felt peace wash over him as his wife tightened her grip.

“Lily,” he whispered as he felt her kneel beside him. She rested her forehead on his knee while she brought their intertwined fingers to her lips. Severus sighed in contentment as a cloud formed over his battered mind, and he allowed himself to forget everything but the feel of soft lips against his hand, the curve of her body against his leg.

He let his mind free of every vestige of occlusion, feeling safe as he did only in her presence, allowing his raw thoughts free reign. . As he let his mind wander, Severus closed his eyes against all the pain from this night and allowed himself to be lulled by Lily’s gentle voice into a much needed sleep.

It was hours later as his mind worked to form coherent thought against the torrent of nightmares deluging his sleep that Severus worked again to occlude his mind, even in his sleep. His thoughts reached out unconsciously to make a connection with Lily’s, seeking an anchor.

Severus’ sleep-addled mind probed innocently at his wife’s mind. The connection forged the day they were bound together as husband and wife was a strong one, and Lily allowed her husband immediate access. Severus latched on to the thoughts of love as he dove deeper into the web of images. As he did, he was propelled awake by the shock of what he saw there.

“No!”

Lily, startled into consciousness by her husband’s cry, jumped up from the floor. She looked around wildly before settling her gaze on Severus. She touched his arm, and the touch broke something in Severus as he reeled from the knowledge of what his wife had kept from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Lily?” he rasped.

Lily didn’t ask what he meant. She took her Severus’ hand in her own and slid herself slowly into his lap. He stiffened as she did, but she ignored him, gathering his face gently in her small hands and tilted it up.

Severus met her gaze.

“I knew you wouldn’t agree to use the Charm if you had known,” she told him quietly, and Severus’ eyes blazed in unchecked fury. He stood roughly from the chair, pulling his wife with him; Lily allowed herself to be tugged.

Severus let go of Lily’s arms; his fingers balled themselves tightly into fists at his sides. “You lied to me,” he accused her harshly.

Lily straightened as Severus glared at her, unrepentant. “Yes,” she said. “I told you already, I’m not going to lose you. If you had known I was pregnant, you would have insisted I go with James.” Her voice was quiet and steady asSeverus attempted to reign in his temper.

Finally giving up, he erupted, “And I would have been right to! How could you do this?”

Lily continued to gaze at him steadily. “I know our child would be well taken care of by James, but it wouldn’t be the same. A boy needs his father, Severus.”

“A Death Eater father?” Severus sneered and then blinked. “Wh-What did you say? It’s… a boy?” Theanger drained from him, leaving him feeling extremely unsure of himself.

Lily smiled at her husband as she nodded, her eyes shining with happiness. She smiled even wider as Severus stepped hesitantly to her and reached a timid hand toward her abdomen; his hand stilled and hovered above her belly. Severus raised his gaze to Lily, asking permission. Lily rolled her eyes before grabbing Severus’ hand and pushing it firmly into her abdomen.

Severus drew in a harsh breath as he felt a tiny flutter under his wife’s thin shirt. His eyes darted up again, his eyes wide. Without another word, Severus pulled Lily to him. He pressed his lips gently against her hair; All other thoughts quickly left him as Lily wrapped her arms around his neck.

The only thing that mattered now was that Severus was going to have a son.

1996

For the first time in weeks, Harry felt rested. He had spent the past six weeks in his small bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive; each night tossing and turning on top of Dudley’s old worn blanket, trying to force his mind to let go of the image of his godfather falling silently through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. The attempts had been futile and Harry had mostly given up trying to sleep at all, though he did routinely find himself in his bed for a couple of hours each night, doing his best to let the memories go.

It wasn’t until Dumbledore had collected him and brought him, without extraneous conversation, to the Burrow that Harry finally found elusive sleep. And that was only due to Mrs. Weasley’s rather strong Sleeping Draught, which had put him to sleep the instant his head hit the pillow after dinner.

Mrs. Weasley had stuffed him almost to bursting with an assortment of delicious foods and immediately following his last bite had ordered him firmly to bed, ignoring all protests from Ron and Ginny. Too exhausted to argue, Harry had followed Mrs. Weasley obediently up the stairs and into the cot made up for him, not even bothering to change his clothes.

Mrs. Weasley had fussed over the pillows and blankets before handing him the potion and telling him to “Drink it down, there’s a good boy”. Harry drank it without protest, and as he laid his dark head on the soft pillow, he felt a gentle hand smoothing over his brow before drifting into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

Harry moved his head to the side and fumbled for his glasses on the stand next to his cot without opening his eyes. He settled the black-rimmed spectacles on the bridge of his nose and found Ron staring at him from his own bed against the opposite wall. Harry blinked, letting his early morning brain adjust to the site of the tall redhead peering at him.

“Morning, Ron.”

Ron grinned and pushed himself up from his bed. “Come on, mate. Even I’m not this lazy. Mum’s made us wait breakfast for you, so get up!” he commanded and shoved Harry lightly on the shoulder as Harry sat up.

Harry swiped at Ron, but his friend dodged him easily on his way out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Jiffy up, Harry. Hermione’s here and she’s right anxious to see you,” as he slipped out the bedroom door. Harry grinned, his heart feeling a bit lighter with the news that Hermione was waiting, presumably with Ginny. It felt great to be back with his friends.

After Harry had hurriedly changed clothes, he padded down the stairs toward the kitchen. Harry’s face nearly cracked with the force of his smile at the sight that awaited him. Not only were Ron, Ginny and Hermione waiting for him, but Fred and George and Remus, were gathered around the breakfast table as well; their own grins matched Harry’s as they watched him walk toward them.

Mrs. Weasley allowed no time for greetings though, as she chivvied Harry into a chair in front of a plate full of eggs and bangers. She loaded some buttered toast onto the already overflowing plate and filled a large glass with pumpkin juice and then shushed all those around the table, telling them to leave Harry to his breakfast.

They didn’t, of course. As soon as Mrs. Weasley left the table, Fred and George grabbed at Harry with enthusiastic glee, pumping both of his arms simultaneously while he tried frantically to stay on his chair. When the twins finally stopped shaking him, Harry righted his glasses and grinned around the table at his friends.

Ginny and Ron were laughing at their brothers’ antics, while Hermione was smiling indulgently at all of them. Remus was smiling as well, though his eyes seemed sad as he watched Harry. Harry felt a pang then and a sudden surge of guilt as he thought of the friend Remus had lost and yet another stab as he realized he hadn't spared much thought for the pain Remusmust have been experiencing these past few weeks.

Harry smiled tentatively at his father’s old friend and promised himself that he would talk to Remus right after breakfast.

“Harry, how are you?” It was Hermione’s voice that interrupted Harry’s study of Remus, and he turned in relief toward his friend.

“Brilliant… now that I’m here,” he assured her quickly, knowing she would press him for details later and trying to let her know that he was okay. Hermione nodded seriously at his statement and Ron rolled his eyes behind Hermione’s back, making Harry work quickly to suppress a laugh. He turned his attention to the twins again to distract himself from Ron’s antics. “How’s the joke shop?”

Fred rubbed his hands together in glee, while George slathered a piece of crisp toast with butter. “Never better, Harry. We’ve even got ourselves the odd employee or two,” George said in a fine imitation of Percy.

“Have you really?” Harry asked them as he laughed at Percy’s expense.

Fred nodded conspiratorially. “’Course,” he told Harry around the mouthful of toast and eggs crammed in his mouth, and Harry had to move slightly to avoid the bits of breakfast flying at him.

Mrs. Weasley came back in then, scolding everybody but Harry and Remus to get back to their food as she passed the table on the way toward the sitting room. And as Harry began shoveling food into his mouth, his friends lapsed into silence, perhaps in acknowledgment that Harry did indeed need “fattening up,” as Mrs. Weasley had reminded them before disappearing from the kitchen.

After each one of them had eaten their fill, everyone stood up to leave, except Harry and Remus; the others took that as their cue to give them some privacy. Ron was the last to leave, after calling over his shoulder that he, Hermione and Ginny would meet him outside for a game of Quidditch when he’d finished.

Remus broke the silence first. “Are you managing all right, Harry?”
Harry slumped a little in his chair. “Yeah… I haven’t slept much.” The lines etching Remus’ face deepened with concern, so Harry rushed on, “I’m okay, though, Remus, really.” Harry could tell that Remus didn’t believe him, but he nodded anyway.

“You’re not, Harry. But you shouldn’t be.” There was a pause as Remus ran a hand through his graying hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Harry took a deep calming breath. “Remus, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone that night.” Harry wanted to continue, but Remus cut him off abruptly.

“It’s not your fault, Harry. Don’t think that way. Sirius wouldn’t let you blame yourself.”

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, though the guilt continued to weigh heavily in his chest. He reached out a small hand and grasped Remus’ larger hand in his. Remus looked surprised for a minute before squeezing Harry’s fingers gently.

“Are you all right, Remus?” Harry asked thickly.

“I’m working on it, Harry,” Remus said quietly, his own voice rough, and Harry felt another pang for the man’s loss. He nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Harry, you can contact me anytime, for anything,” Remus added with another smile smile. “Professor Dumbledore will know how to find me.”

Harry nodded again, and Remus stood up slowly, patting Harry’s hand again before releasing it completely. He pulled his ragged cloak around his too-thin frame and moved around the large table to the back door. “Take care of yourself, Harry.”

On an impulse, one which he would have been hard-pressed to explain, Harry took the few steps toward Remus and wrapped his arms around the older man. Almost as if the gesture had been a great relief to Remus, Harry found himself engulfed in a crushing hug. He felt his old professor’s chest heaving, and Harry squeezed his own arms around Remus tightly, trying to comfort him as well as he knew how. They stayed that way for what seemed a long time, though when Remus finally released him, Harry wished the strong arms were still around him.

Remus smiled again at Harry and this time, the smile reached his eyes. Harry smiled as well, and then Remus was gone without another word. Harry leaned against the wall next to the door and allowed his thoughts to go to Sirius again, and when they did, the weight in his chest seemed lighter than it had only moments before. Harry smiled slightly to himself and went to join his mates outside.

The remaining weeks with the Weasleys went by much too quickly for Harry’s liking, although of course, he had Hogwarts to look forward to, so he didn’t mind too much. He spent most of his days playing Quidditch and de-gnoming the gardens, and no matter how many times Ginny and Ron complained about the chore, Harry found great delight in banishing the sneaky little creatures from the Weasleys’ yard. He also made a happy habit of Floo-calling Remus every few days, and Harry found himself looking forward to these conversations even more than he did the impromptu daily Quidditch matches.

Almost before Harry was ready, August 31st arrived and Harry was Flooing with the Weasleys and Hermione to Diagon Alley. They met Hagrid there and Mr. Weasley, claiming the need for caution, insisted that he and Hagrid escort Harry to his vault at Gringotts. Hermione came with him while Mrs. Weasley took Ginny and Ron to purchase new robes.

The quartet made quick work of reaching Gringotts’ big doors, and Hermione oohed and ahhed over the entire experience of flying in the rickety carts down through the dark bank passageways.

When they reached Harry’s vault, he hurriedly exited the cart and had to step back as the burly goblin pulled opened his vault. Harry entered the vault in front of the goblin, with Hermione only steps behind him. Hagrid and Mr. Weasley waited for them outside the door. Harry didn’t spare much time for a look around the large room, though he did notice a wooden chest he had never seen before, half hidden behind a rather large pile of Galleons.

With a glance back at Hermione, who had engaged the recalcitrant goblin in a one-sided debate about Magical Creature rights, Harry paused to roll his eyes before he crossed the short distance to the trunk and knelt gingerly in front of it. Expecting to need a key to open the chest, Harry was surprised when the lid sprang open at his touch.

Harry’s head jerked back as if expecting a curse to come flying from the depths. When nothing happened, Harry slowly tilted his dark head toward the top of the trunk, using his hands to lever himself closer. The trunk was mostly empty, except for a few small trinkets of dubious value. In the middle of the space was a Pensieve.

With a surge of excitement, Harry peered inside the stone receptacle, trying to get a better look at the silver-white substance without actually diving into the memories, but he could move his face no further than the circular rim. Harry pulled his head back in surprise and used an index finger to touch the runes along the rim. He would learn nothing from the ancient symbols, he knew, so he turned his head toward Hermione.

“Hermione,” he interrupted the bushy haired girl excitedly, and Hermione paused in her recitation, for which the goblin seemed most grateful. He backed up a few paces, apparently not taking any chances that the girl would resume the conversation. He needn’t have worried, though. Hermione had immediately recognized the edge of excitement in Harry’s tone and she hurried to his side, dropping to her knees to mimic Harry’s stance.

“Ooh, Harry, it’s a Pensieve! Oh!” his friend cried, delighted at the discovery as much as she would have if it had been a lavishly wrapped present under her Christmas tree.

Just as Harry had done, Hermione peered at the memories in the Pensieve and lowered a hand, but made no move to lower it below the stone rim before looking over at Harry, her excitement not diminished at all.

“Harry, it’s been sealed, I think. It's some sort of stasis field. I can’t tell how long ago it was placed there, though. It must have belonged to your parents.” She smiled brightly at him and Harry nodded uncertainly.

“Do you know how to remove the stasis field?” Harry asked around the lump that was forming in his throat. If his parents had left these memories to Harry, he wanted to look at them straightaway.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “I probably could, Harry, if I had the right book to show me how… Mr. Weasley might know,” she suggested quickly as Harry’s face fell.

Harry brightened at the idea, and he moved quickly away from the Pensieve to fill his small pouch with some of his parents’ money, and after stuffing the bag in a robe pocket, he hauled the small Pensieve out of the trunk.

It was heavy, but Harry managed to carry it past the impatient goblin and out the door. Mr. Weasley and Hagrid were waiting for them. At the sight of the Pensieve in Harry’s hands, Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows in surprise while Hagrid made a movement to take it out of Harry’s arms. Harry shook his head, though, not trusting the giant to be careful with it.

“I found it in an old trunk,” Harry said excitedly to Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley stepped closer to the Pensieve, and as Hermione had done in the vault, he lowered his hand until it met the rim. Then he took his wand out and tapped it with the tip. A bluish haze lit the mouth of the Pensieve. He smiled warmly when he looked back up at Harry.

“It’s a stasis shield. I can release it for you when we get back to the Burrow, if you’d like.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, not trusting himself to speak. Hermione beamed next to him, squeezing Harry’s arm affectionately, and with the Pensieve wrapped securely in his grip, they all boarded the trolley again; it whisked them quickly upward at breakneck speeds.

1979

Severus stood stiffly on the hearth rug next to the impressive stone mantel in his sitting room, while his wife scurried around the spacious room rearranging pillows on the sofa and chairs. Severus was too annoyed to be amused that Lily was resorting to Muggle cleaning techniques, as she often did when she was nervous, instead of flicking her wand to put the pillows in their proper places.

Lily paid no attention to her husband’s foul mood although she had been surprised earlier that he hadn’t yet resorted to the heavy-footed pacing he normally favored when he was angry. Lily took one last look around the room to ensure that it was in perfect order before wiping a hand across her brow. Lily glanced over at Severus then and sighed as she realized he was watching her with a resentful gaze. She placed her hands on her slim hips with a scowl.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that, Severus Snape,” she scolded him and Severus blinked in surprise at the rebuke as if he hadn’t realized he had been frowning fiercely at his wife. Lily laughed at his expression and watched happily as the sound caused her husband to relax his rigid posture slightly and one side of his mouth to curl into something half-resembling a smile.

“James is likely to step on your foot if you stay there,” Lily told her husband playfully.

Severus frowned at Lily again but he did move away from the fireplace and into the middle of the room. Lily tilted her pretty face toward her favorite chair pointedly and Severus with a sigh of his own, sat down in it. His frown deepened as he sank down too far into the old chair’s depths.

Lily smiled as she walked over to Severus and dropped with an unladylike plop onto his lap. She leaned her head on his shoulder and Severus reflexively brought one arm around her waist and drew her closer into his chest. Lily took his other hand, running her thumb over the calluses on his palm.

Severus watched Lily tracing lines on his hand, noticing as her fingers lingered against the spots of skin that were hardened after years of chopping and stirring potions in his lab. He and Lily had spent many hours holed up in Severus’ lab together, Lily sometimes acting as her husband’s assistant, but more often involved in developing potions of her own. Lily’s best subject at Hogwarts had no doubt been Charms, but that didn’t take anything away from her formidable ability with a cauldron.

“Sev.” Severus tensed at the ominous tone in Lily’s voice. Lily brushed her fingers lightly over the hand she held in her own in an unconscious effort to reassure him before continuing. “James is already willing to do this. Please try not to antagonize him.” Lily kept her voice even with an effort, but Severus clenched his jaw anyway and Lily suppressed another sigh.

“I will be civil,” Severus told her, his words stilted. Lily squeezed his hand before turning slightly in his lap so that her back was to his chest.

“I’m keeping you to that, Sev,” she told him seriously. Severus didn’t respond but he did grind his teeth together in agitation. Lily only smiled and brought both of her husband’s arms around her and held them together in front of her waist. Severus relaxed as she leaned fully into his embrace and they sat there together in contented silence as they waited for James Potter to arrive.

As the Floo roared to life, Severus stood up, deftly bringing Lily with him and placing her off to his side with one smooth movement. Severus pulled slightly away from her, for decorum’s sake, but Lily held firmly to his hand. Severus didn’t pull away even though he did feel a moment’s resentment that Lily was going to insist on such a public display in front of Potter.

Severus’ face was a forced mask of calm and ease as Potter stepped sure-footed into their sitting room. Potter was smiling as the emerald fire died behind him, though Severus’ sharp eyes noticed Potter’s smile had faltered slightly as he took in Lily’s hand firmly intertwined with Severus’.

Severus almost smiled then as a rush of cold haughtier coursed through him. He had Lily and Potter was alone. But as fast as the feeling came, it vanished again. James Potter was here now and he was not only going to publicly declare a marriage with his wife but be claimed as the father of Severus’ own son.

A rush of bile assaulted Severus’ throat at the thought and Severus forced himself to clamp those thoughts down. He Occluded his mind and nodded graciously at his enemy.

“Good Evening,” Severus said politely.

Severus saw Lily glance up at him briefly before saying warmly to her old friend, “James.” Potter’s full smile shone down on Lily and she stepped away from Severus and firmly embraced Potter. “Thank you,” she told him simply and though it seemed impossible, Potter’s smile brightened.

Lily and Potter broke apart after what seemed too long a time to be considered proper, at least to Severus. But since he had already successfully quelled the urge to throw his old nemesis bodily from the room the instant he had touched his wife, Severus did not outwardly react.

Lily offered her friend a chair then sat on the sofa opposite Potter. Severus, after a moment’s hesitation, sat stiffly next to his wife, keeping a slight distance between them as decorum demanded.

Potter was watching Severus’ movements very closely, and he seemed smugly amused by Severus’ obvious discomfort, as if he thought Severus’ stilted movements were indicative of a rift between the couple. Severus suppressed yet another urge to rip James Potter’s smarmy face in half and waited for Lily to speak.

“What did you tell the others?” Lily asked James, to break the tension in the room.

James smiled slightly before answering. “That I’ve been seeing you for weeks. Sirius was furious when I told him I’d been keeping it from them.”

“I imagine he’ll be even angrier when you tell him we’ve married,” Lily said. Severus flinched slightly at the word as Lily laughed. James didn’t notice Severus’ reaction as all his attention was focused squarely on Lily. James laughed with Lily and nodded.

“Quite rightly too. It was almost impossible to get here tonight without Sirius tagging along. Remus and Peter were almost as bad, but they’ll be more hurt than angry, I think. I’ll smooth everything out with them though.” He paused and then asked tentatively, “You’re coming tomorrow then?”

Lily glanced again at Severus. Though he would look to anyone else the very picture of calm, Lily could see how much this meeting with James was costing him. She longed to reach over and take his hand but she knew too that Severus would not appreciate the gesture in front of James. Resigned, she turned back to James who was waiting for her to answer, the anxiety in his posture clear as well.

“Yes…Severus will come with us under a Disillusionment Charm.” Lily’s voice didn’t precisely make it a question but it was said as though she thought James would have an objection. James understood her tone and he swallowed, determined to make this easier on the woman that he still cared for.

“Right,” James agreed and was pleased when Lily favored him with a smile. He returned it before continuing. “I’ll Floo Remus in the morning and ask him to invite Sirius and Peter for tea. It’ll be best to do this just once.”

Lily nodded in approval. Severus, without prompting inclined his head slightly and Lily relaxed. Her ease didn’t last.

“I know we talked about this,” James began and then paused when Lily raised her eyebrows. James cleared his throat before continuing. “But…this would be easier if we could tell-”

James didn’t have a chance to finish before Severus growled, “No.” The single word was explosive over James’ smooth voice. James narrowed his eyes at the interruption but otherwise didn’t react.

“We can’t risk it, James,” was Lily’s unruffled response, but James was hardly mollified. He pointedly ignored Severus and instead focused completely on Lily.

“Lily, all of them are likely to be here fairly often. If we don’t tell them, how will we explain Severus’ presence here…unless of course he wants to make himself scarce,” he mocked.

Lily closed her eyes in anticipation of her husband’s indignant response. She wasn’t disappointed. Severus clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, finally turning his irate gaze on the man sitting across from him.

“This is my home, Potter,” Severus spat.

James stiffened. “And these are my friends.”

“I don’t care who your ‘friends’ are. It is enough that I agreed to let them into our home at all. I will not allow Lily to be put at further at risk simply because you do not wish to keep secrets from a mangy wolf and the rest of his pack.”

“Lily wouldn’t even be at risk, Snape, if you hadn’t joined Voldemort,” James told Severus fiercely, his anger rising considerably at the insults aimed at the other Marauders.

“I did not join Voldemort, Potter. I created a ruse in order to keep my mother from harming my wife.” The vein in Severus’ temple was throbbing dangerously.

“And now we’re creating a new ruse to keep Lily safe,” James continued in a caustic tone, having no idea that the pulsing vein was a good indication that Severus was quickly losing his composure. “Bonding with Lily means we’re supposed to be creating a life together and a home together. A home in which my friends would be welcome. What else do you suggest we do?” The animosity was rich in James’ voice as he glared at the Slytherin.

Lily rested a soft hand on Severus’ arm before her husband could bite out a response. She turned to James. “We can’t tell them, James. I trust them too, but even Albus advised us to keep this between the four of us.” At the mention of his mentor, James forced himself to calm down. He nodded curtly at Lily and folded his arms over his chest in tacit acquiescence to her unspoken plea.

Severus smirked at his wife’s easy management of Potter. The pathetic Gryffindor obviously possessed no cunning and most likely couldn’t conceive of a friend, especially Lily, manipulating him.

Lily, though she could guess her husband’s line of thinking, ignored it and said instead to James, “Your friends are always welcome here. You’re to think of this as your home. We want you to be comfortable here, James.”

James stared at Lily for a moment before remarking in a hard tone, “They used to be your friends too, Lily.” Lily flushed and Severus fisted his hands in anger on his wife’s behalf.

“Mind your tongue when you are speaking to my wife, Potter,” Severus bit out with a snarl.

“Your wife doesn’t need you to defend her, Snape,” James retorted coldly.

Snape narrowed his blazing eyes. “You have no idea what Lily needs, Gryffindor.” The last word was delivered as an epithet and Severus watched in satisfaction as Potter’s face flushed in renewed anger. The satisfaction waned however, as Potter turned furiously to Lily.

“This is what you want, Lily? A man who insults who you are? A man who fills your life with danger? You could have been so happy, Lily,” There was no plea in James’ voice, only sadness and anger, mingled together with regret.

Lily opened her mouth to respond but Severus cut in. “Ah, yes,” Severus drawled. “Your pathetic ability to make Lily happy during your date to Hogsmeade resulted in a very happy night indeed. I’m sure you remember it, Potter, as I did escort Lily back to your dormitories the following morning.”

“Severus!” Lily gasped and watched in dismay as James’ face blanched and his hands began to tremble convulsively in his lap.

Severus didn’t have a chance to enjoy Potter’s reaction as Lily’s rebuke fell soundly on his ears. His lips thinned in response, not enjoying the sensation of being reprimanded like a child in front of Potter. Severus would not however argue with Lily in front of the other man, so he did the only thing he could. He met Lily’s eyes steadily as hers bored into his in silent reproach.

Lily narrowed her green eyes briefly until she was satisfied that her husband would not say anything further to upset James then she turned back to James. “Please excuse him, James. He shouldn’t have said that.” James looked up from his intent study of his hands and simply nodded and Lily noted that his color had returned to normal.

She smiled warmly at him. She had apologized more than once to James since that night and he had told her he’d forgiven her. Lily accepted that but she knew that James had never stopped loving her. The idea made her ache for James’ pain, but…she loved Severus and she nothing could change that.

To change the subject, Lily said to James, “Albus had a suggestion as well that will allow Severus to be around…without a Disillusionment Charm, that is,” she clarified, smiling slightly. James smiled slowly as well, probably at the image of Severus Snape skulking about unseen by the other Mauraders.

Severus frowned slightly at his wife in accusation for the joke at his expense even though he understood why she had done it. Lily almost laughed at Severus’ frown but turned her attention back to James instead.

“Albus will come to see you tomorrow to tell you that Severus needs protection.” Lily hurried on, ignoring James’ grin and Severus’ clenched jaw, “He’ll ask you to allow Severus to stay with us,” she continued to James.

Lily bit her lip and both James and Severus stilled their facial muscles, realizing how much they were upsetting Lily. “Sirius will object, of course…and the two of you will have to learn to get along to show him, and the others, that things are all right here….” Lily trailed off uncertainly and uncharacteristically began playing nervously with the ring on her left hand.

“Sirius will be a problem, yes,” James told Lily, his voice soothing. “But, please don’t worry about it, Lily. It may actually make things easier for awhile. Padfoot’ll probably refuse to visit.” James’ mouth quirked and Lily gave him a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

Severus, tuned to his wife in almost perfect harmony, understood Lily’s sudden reticence and silently cursed Eileen for putting them in this situation at all. Severus wished that Potter would go up to the guest room Lily had prepared and leave them alone. He wanted to reach out for Lily and hold her, reassure her that everything would be all right and to apologize for his childish behavior.

He would do neither of course, not while Potter was sitting across from them. An apology would not come easily from his lips, even in private. He settled for telling Lily quietly, “We will have to learn to get along,” Lily glanced at him, as if seeking for the truth in his statement. She looked only mildly reassured however until Potter nodded in agreement and only then, did her eyes smile.

Annoyed at his inability to soothe his own wife, without the infernal Gryffindor’s assistance, Severus stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, I have potions to attend to in my lab.” After a short nod from Potter, Severus said stiffly, “Goodnight, Potter,” and took his leave.

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

Lily found Severus in his lab, an hour later, bent over a bubbling cauldron. She shut the door quietly, automatically activating the silencing spells put in place by Severus years ago. Without a word, she went to the workstation next to Severus and took up the mortar and pestle and began attacking the Asphodel waiting there, pounding steadily to reduce the root to a fine powder for Severus’ potion.

Severus had of course noticed Lily’s entrance and had even followed her graceful movements into the room and to his side. He watched his wife smashing his pestle into the stone bowl on the counter, inferring correctly that Lily was still angry with him for his behavior earlier. He wisely stayed silent, allowing Lily space; she would speak to him when she was ready.

Lily didn’t know who Severus was currently brewing for and she wouldn’t ask. She had decided before Severus took the Dark Mark that she would never ask for details of Severus’ interactions with Voldemort. She had since discovered this had been a wise decision; he did not like to talk about the nights spent with the Death Eaters and their Lord.

Unsatisfied with the way this particular pestle was crushing the Asphodel, Lily laid it aside and went over to the large cabinet next to the door. Knowing the she was too short to reach the highest shelf where Severus kept his equipment, she dragged a stool from near the bench over to the tall cabinet.

Severus, who had looked up curiously from the potion he was carefully stirring, frowned as he caught up with his wife’s intention. He cast a quick Stasis Charm over the cauldron he was brewing with and strode over to Lily.

Lily had stepped onto the stool and was preparing to stretch upward toward the top shelf of the cabinet when Severus’ firm hand on her arm stilled her movements. She looked down at him questioningly and Severus shook his head at her.

“You shouldn’t be doing that in your condition, Lily,” he told her quietly but Lily snorted at him, a wholly unladylike sound that brought a smile to Severus’ lips instantly.

“I’m pregnant, Sev, not an invalid,” she told him, an amused lilt in her voice. Severus relaxed visibly at Lily’s use of his nickname, something he would only allow Lily to do. And he recognized, with her use of it, that she wasn’t nearly as angry with him as she should perhaps have been.

Buoyed by that thought, Severus brought his empty hand up to Lily’s other arm and drew her down firmly from her perch. She noised an objection but allowed him to lift her up, bringing her to stand in front of him. Lily looked up at him while Severus brought a gentle hand to her flushed cheek.

He looked down at her, his face a swirling mass of emotions and Lily waited patiently, knowing her husband was steeling himself for an apology. Lily wanted to tell him, as she always wished she could, that his mental preparation was not necessary. That she wouldn’t reject him, as had been done to Severus so many times before by his parents. It was enough for now that Severus stood before her, his mental defenses completely down, his own way of showing Lily that he trusted her.

Taking a calming breath, Severus finally told her, “I apologize for my behavior earlier, Lily. It was childish of me.” The sentiment was delivered in a smooth tone, though it was not lacking in sincerity.

Lily smiled at Severus as she wrapped her arms around his strong neck. Letting out the nervous breath he had been holding, Severus pulled Lily to him, resting his chin on the top of her head, immensely relieved that Lily had forgiven him. She was too easy on him, he knew, but he appreciated it all the same.

“I will try to get along with him…for you, Lily. I do not wish you to be uncomfortable in your own home,” he promised her and Lily nodded against his chest.

“Thank you. I know this isn’t going to be easy,” she told him and her statement was immediately followed by a loud yawn. Severus frowned slightly, reaching a hand up to take her chin. He tilted her head back with his fingers to study her closely.

“You are exhausted, Lily. You should be in bed,” Severus rebuked his wife gently. Lily rolled her eyes.

“You sound like my mother,” she huffed at him.

“Then your mother was a wise woman,” he told her sagely. Lily laughed and the sound

lightened Severus’ heart as he watched her emerald eyes sparkling merrily.

“Yes, she was,” Lily informed him seriously. “She was also of the opinion that husbands and wives should always go to bed together.” She glanced meaningfully at the cauldron behind them.

Obediently, recognizing his wife’s tone, Severus cast a stronger charm over the cauldron and the ingredients on the table beside it, to hold it in stasis until morning and taking the hand Lily offered him, followed his wife out of the lab.

1996

As soon as they had all Flooed back to the Burrow, Harry turned eagerly to Ron’s father. Mr. Weasley smiled warmly at him.

“Why don’t we remove the shield in your room and then you can have some privacy,” Mr. Weasley suggested and Harry nodded gratefully; he hadn’t wanted to ask the others for some time alone. He was after all the Weasleys’ house guest and Harry didn’t want to be rude.

Hermione looked like she wanted an invitation from Mr. Weasley as well. Harry figured she wanted to watch Ron's dad remove the stasis shield but since Harry didn’t want everyone crowding around, he turned away from Hermione, hoping she would understand and with ill-concealed excitement, Harry followed Ron’s dad quickly up the slightly crooked Weasley staircase to the room he was sharing with Ron, his parents’ Pensieve held firmly in his arms.

Hermione sagged slightly at the snub and even Ron seemed like he wished he could have followed Harry. Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at Harry’s retreating back and then left the room quickly to tend to dinner. Ginny, still standing near the fireplace, watched Harry until he was out of sight and then with a small smile, suggested that her brother and Hermione join her for a walk outside.

Ginny didn’t want Harry to be interrupted and she knew Ron too well to simply leave her brother inside waiting for his best mate to share something Harry might not wish to share. And so, with a grumbling Ron and a fidgeting Hermione in tow, Ginny made her way outside into her family’s gnome-filled garden.

Harry and Mr. Weasley reached Ron’s door faster than Harry had expected to and he felt a familiar twinge of nerves in the pit of his stomach. Of course, he could hardly stand to wait any longer to see what was in the Pensieve, but the idea was a bit disconcerting all the same. The last time he had been inside a Pensieve had been in Snape’s private office and that experience alone made him slightly wary of another trip into a Pensieve.

Harry was worried too about what kind of memory he might see. His last glimpses of his parents and of his father in particular, had not been pleasant ones. In fact, even after Sirius and Remus had assured him that his father had in fact been a good man, Harry was not entirely convinced. But, he was even more worried about the blatant animosity he had witnessed between his mother and father. Of course, Ron and Hermione hadn’t always gotten along and yet Harry felt it quite likely that the quarrelsome pair would somehow manage to pair up…eventually anyway.

With that somehow comforting thought, Harry placed the heavy stone receptacle on Ron’s low bureau and then backed away, making room for Mr. Weasley, who stepped up to the Pensive, his wand drawn.

“Aufero Contego,” the older man commanded lightly as he ran the tip of his wand around the Pensieve’s hard rim. The same bluish haze lit the Pensieve’s round opening and then it flashed brighter than it had in Gringotts for a brief second before vanishing completely.

Mr. Weasley smiled again at Harry as he slid his wand up into his right sleeve. He clapped a warm hand on the young man’s shoulder briefly and quietly left the room, closing the door discreetly behind him.

Harry bit his lip, the nervousness almost overwhelming him before he gathered his considerable Gryffindor courage and thrust his head into the Pensieve. Harry felt the familiar icy falling sensation as he was hurled forward and then suddenly, he was standing in a brightly lit room, staring at a blank white wall.

Harry turned around and almost yelped in delight. The pretty red-haired woman leaning back in a bed with crisp white linens was most definitely his mother. And she was quite a few years older than she had been when Harry had last seen her in Snape’s Pensieve.

Harry took a few quick steps closer to his mother and wished more than anything that he could reach out and touch her. He wanted to ask her so many things. He wanted to hear her voice again. Harry sighed and tried to be content to watch as his mum lightly fingered one of the bright flowers sitting in a glass vase next to her bed.

Harry looked more carefully at his surroundings and realized he was in St. Mungo’s. His mother was obviously a patient here and Harry felt a jolt of pure joy when he spotted a small cradle next to his mother’s bed. Harry stepped closer to his mother’s side, looking down into the cradle. Lying under a tiny blue blanket was an even tinier baby, sucking sedately on a clenched fist.

Harry grinned as he watched his mum reach her hand toward the baby and gently stroke the shock of raven hair messily adorning her son’s head. Taking in the pleasant scene, Harry’s insides began to glow as he realized that it was probably only hours after he had been born, which of course meant his father should be around here somewhere. He looked around in anticipation, eager for a chance to see a happy interaction between his parents. He didn’t have to wait long.

James Potter strode in through the door to his mother’s room. Harry felt the same leap of joy as he restrained himself from reaching out toward his father. He turned with his dad as James walked over to Lily and baby Harry. Though his dad was smiling, he seemed almost sad and Harry felt a prickle of unease settle in his gut.

“How are you, Lily?” Harry’s dad asked when he reached mother and child.

Lily smiled up at James, her own smile completely happy, if maybe a little tired.

“We’re wonderful, James,” she assured him and James nodded as if to reassure himself that she was indeed okay. Harry relaxed a little. His father was worried about his mum that was all.

James looked down at Harry then and with an index finger, he lightly traced Harry’s little nose.

“He’s beautiful, Lily.” Lily laughed, and Harry grinned, enjoying the sound of his mother’s tinkling laugh.

“Don’t sound so surprised, James,” Lily said, her tone teasing.

James shrugged, and his mouth quirked playfully. “Well, just look who his father is.”

Harry blinked a bit in confusion. He’d never thought of his father as one who would indulge in self-deprecating humor, because even though his dad’s tone was light, it was obvious that he had been at least a little surprised that his son was ‘beautiful’, as he had put it. Harry shrugged it off though, figuring it must be a common reaction for new fathers to have about their babies.

Harry looked toward his mother again, waiting for her to reply, but she didn’t have a chance to respond further, as the door swung open a second time. Finding himself hoping it was Sirius, Harry swung around eagerly to look at the newcomer. His mouth fell open in shock as he watched his Potions Professor hurrying into the room.

For a wild moment, Harry thought Snape had somehow leapt into the Pensieve after him, as he had last year and Harry almost expected to be yanked out of the memory again, but Snape paid no attention to Harry and went straight toward Lily and James.

Snape, a much younger version of Snape, Harry now realized, stopped when he reached the side of the cradle and he gazed down at Lily in concern. “Are you all right?” he asked quickly and Harry stared at the trio in confusion. What was going on here? His parents were friends with Snape? After what he had seen last year, the memory unfolding in front of him made no sense at all.

“Of course, Sev,” his mother was saying in a quiet tone, one meant to soothe ragged nerves. What did Snape have to be nervous about anyway…and had his mother just called the dreaded Potions Master…Sev?

Harry’s confusion blossomed as he watched Snape squeeze Lily’s hand lightly and then Harry almost fell over as Severus Snape, the man who had made Harry’s life miserable for five long years, bent down and gently scooped baby Harry into his arms.

The expression in Snape’s eyes was one Harry had never even conceived the man to be capable of. But there it was in plain view for all to see. Snape’s eyes fairly shone with love.

What the hell was going on here? Harry took a step back, away from his mother’s hospital bed as if hoping the distance would help him gain some kind of understanding.

Harry continued to watch in something akin to horror, as Snape traced his younger self’s nose and lips with his thumb, in the same way James had and somehow Harry noticed that Snape's gesture was tender, whereas James’ had been simply curious. Harry shook his head, unsure of how he could even tell there had been a difference.

Snape suddenly looked up at Lily and though it was impossible, the love in his face grew for an instant before he leaned down and softly kissed Lily on the cheek.

Harry reeled at this, his mind spinning in a hundred different directions. Harry didn’t understand any of this. What was Snape doing here and why was he kissing his mum? And, what the hell was his father doing, just standing there? Harry wanted to stomp over and shake his father, to demand just what the bloody hell he thought he was doing, allowing that greasy git to manhandle his wife and son.

But of course, Harry couldn’t do anything but watch. So, he watched. Even as Snape turned to his dad and said quietly.

“Lily and I…we would like Harry’s middle name to be James...after you,”

‘Lily and I’? Harry’s brain finally caught up with his emotions as he watched his mum reach out and take Snape’s hand in hers and as he saw James Potter, at the foot of his mother’s bed, nodding at the little family, accepting their offer.

“No!” Harry cried frantically, stumbling back. “No!” he yelled again in panic and yanked himself from the memory, somehow ending the nightmare even though he had no idea how to do it. Harry felt himself rising through the air and found his feet suddenly plunking loudly on Ron’s threadbare carpet.

Harry began to tremble as he looked wildly about the room. No, he fumed silently. This couldn’t be. He wouldn’t believe it. Snape was not his father! No! No! No!

Suddenly filled with an unstoppable rage, Harry grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on and flung it viciously through the air at the opposite wall. Pig’s wooden cage, mercifully empty of Ron’s small owl, whipped through the air and splintered into a dozen pieces.

Completely unsatisfied, Harry picked up Hedwig’s cage from where it had been sitting peacefully next to Pigwidgeon’s, and swung it angrily at the same spot against the wall and it too, crashed into pieces and then fell next to its smaller counterpart on the floor.

Harry glared at the remains of the owls’ cages and tried desperately to get his breathing under control before any more of either his or Ron’s belongings became unwitting casualties to his anger. As he glared at the wall, Harry wished furiously that instead it was Snape’s ugly face and that the wooden splinters would have perhaps left some gashes in the sneering man’s cheeks.

Then as another surge of blinding fury welled up in him, this time at the man who was supposed to be his father, Harry whirled around and punched Ron’s bureau with all his strength. The loud thwack of wood against skin as well as the pain that coursed through his hand was immensely more satisfying than the broken cages had been and Harry felt all of a sudden, drained…and completely alone.

Harry turned slightly and slumped against the bureau, using it as a support as he slid to the floor, his knees bending up in front of him. Harry rested his arms wearily on his knees and with a deep shuddering breath, buried his face in his arms.

Harry had no idea how long he had been hunched over his knees on the floor and he didn’t bother looking up when Ron’s door opened with a creak. He had an almost irresistible urge to yell at the intruder (presumably Ron himself) to bugger off, but he didn’t have the energy to pull it off.

Harry continued, instead, to watch a small spider’s slow progress across the carpet. The door was shut with a quiet click and his visitor moved almost noiselessly into the room to stand in front of Harry.

Harry realized immediately that it definitely wasn’t Ron who had come in, as the bare toes in front of him were decidedly not hairy. Since he didn’t think Hermione would walk around the Weasleys’ house in bare feet, Harry figured it had to be Ginny standing there in front of him. His suspicions were confirmed as Ginny sat down beside him, bringing her knees up in an unconscious imitation of Harry.

Ginny had surveyed the damaged room and Harry’s dejected form on the floor and understood that whatever memory had been locked inside the Pensieve had not been a pleasant one.

It had been obvious something had gone wrong as soon as she and the others had heard the two distinct crashes from upstairs, followed closely by a loud smashing sound. It had been Ginny who had fiercely stopped Ron and her mother from rushing up to see what had happened, after a quick spell by her father had told them all that Harry was alone in Ron’s room and breathing just fine.

Ginny leaned against Ron’s bureau and waited. Either Harry would want to talk about what he had seen in the Pensieve, or he wouldn’t. And, either way Ginny would sit with him until Harry asked her to go.

Harry however, had no intention of asking Ginny to leave. He found her warm presence beside him oddly comforting. He realized in belated embarrassment that she and everyone else had most likely heard his brief tantrum. It felt good to know though that Ginny would offer him this measure of comfort.

Harry glanced over at the pretty redhead and she was smiling at him. He tried to smile in response but his anger and frustration had not fully abated and the smile failed miserably. Ginny, sensing his distress reached over and squeezed his arm gently. The contact eased some of Harry’s ire and in an almost reflexive response he slid his arm down his leg until his hand was under Ginny’s.

They sat that way for what seemed like a long time to Harry, while he unsuccessfully tried to banish the Pensieve’s traitorous memory from his mind. The images wouldn’t leave, though. The more he tried to rid himself of them, the angrier Harry felt.

“Shite, Ginny!” Harry exploded suddenly and he surged to his feet, pulling Ginny along with him.

Ginny, though startled by Harry’s outburst, stood up with him. Harry gritted his teeth. He was glaring at the Pensieve and Ginny saw in his eyes that he meant to go back in there. Ginny started to pull her hand away to give Harry room, but Harry held fast to her, as though he needed the contact to get through whatever he was going through.

Ginny stilled her hand and Harry glanced down at her, questioningly. Ginny nodded her assent and the pair walked toward the Pensieve. Together, they leaned toward the swirling memories.

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

Ginny stumbled out of the Pensieve with Harry as his chest heaved with tangled emotions. She squeezed his hand again gently and waited for his movements to still. After several deep breaths, Harry quieted and sat heavily on his cot.

“It’s true then,” Harry said dully and Ginny’s heart ached for him.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said quietly

“What for?” Harry said mockingly. “Who wouldn’t want Snape for a father? Who wouldn’t want one more lie mucking up his life?”

Harry was twisting his hands in his lap with frenetic movements, having pulled away from Ginny’s grasp. He wouldn’t recall until later how empty his hand felt without Ginny’s fingers tangled in his.

“Harry, you don’t know the whole story…” Ginny began but Harry cut her off with a swipe of his hand.

“I think I got most of it, Ginny. James Potter isn’t my father. Snape is and everybody has been lying about it.”

Ginny, instead of commiserating with Harry, shook her head. “You don’t know that. You don’t even know who knows about this.”

Harry barked a short laugh at no one in particular. “Well, Snape obviously knows and my mum and dad…oh excuse my slip,” he said with a sneer before continuing, “James,” Harry stressed sarcastically, “knew it too.”

Ginny ignored Harry’s tone, thinking in spite of herself how like Snape he had sounded just then. “What are you going to do?” she asked, hoping to distract Harry a bit from his accusations.

Harry looked at his friend incredulously. “Do? I’m not going to do anything, Ginny. If Snape doesn’t want me to know I’m his son, who I am to spoil his fun?” The hurt in Harry’s voice was badly masked and Ginny picked it out instantly.

No matter how much Harry despised their Professor, and Harry definitely did despise Snape, it still hurt him that he was so obviously not wanted. It was strange though, Ginny mused. Snape had loved Lily; it would have been obvious to anyone in the room…and Snape had clearly fallen instantly in love with their newborn son as well. What could have happened to turn that love into the deep loathing Snape now felt for Harry?

Ginny could find no answers though, as she and Harry continued to sit in silence, side by side until, just as Ginny had predicted Ron crashed in through the door like some sort of wild Hippogriff. Hermione was right behind him, calling for Ron to stop. Ron paid no attention as he barreled into the room.

“Oi! What’s going on in here?” Ron demanded suspiciously as he looked between Harry and Ginny and at his tone, Harry groaned and flung himself back onto his cot. Ginny just scowled at her brother.

“Bugger off,” Ginny muttered to Ron and Harry couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Well, at least someone had said it, Harry thought to himself and barked out a laugh. Except it wasn’t a pleasant laugh. The sound was actually a bit deranged, even Harry could hear that and he wasn’t surprised when all of his friends turned to stare at him.

“Harry?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “Are you all right?” she questioned.

“Nope,” Harry told her cheerfully. Hermione and Ron looked toward Ginny, as if asking her if she knew what was causing Harry’s odd behavior. Ginny shrugged at them; she wasn’t about to tell any of Harry’s secrets.

“What happened?” Hermione tried again and Harry pushed himself up so that he was resting most of this weight on his elbows.

“Nothing really…you lot didn’t know Snape’s my dad, did you? No? Hmm….” With that, Harry flopped onto his back again, completely unaware that both Hermione and Ron were staring at him still, their mouths agape now.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, looking very much like a floundering large-mouthed bass, Ron finally choked out a strangled, “Your what?!”

“Is that what you saw in the Pensieve, Harry?” Hermione asked, and though she still looked quite confused, she had managed to regain her composure enough to sit tentatively on Ron’s bed, across from Harry and Ginny with her hands resting sedately in her lap.

Harry didn’t answer either of them. He was too busy pressing his fists into his eyes, wishing he’d never found that stupid Pensieve. Wasn’t Voldemort enough for him to have to deal with? Without trying to figure out why everyone had been lying to him for years?

Well, it was pretty obvious, actually, wasn’t it, Harry thought bitterly. Snape was a spy for the very person who wanted to kill Harry. Of course, Snape wouldn’t want an enemy of the Dark Lord for a son. Never mind that Dumbledore always insisted that Snape was trustworthy.

“Interfering old coot…” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Snape?” Hermione asked, still confused.

Harry ignored her, turning to look at Ginny instead. “Add Dumbledore to the list as well. I’d bet my Firebolt he knows something about this too.” Ginny pursed her lips but didn’t argue with him. Since Dumbledore did seem to inexplicably know almost everything, it made sense that he would know about this too.

“Harry,” Hermione began a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Are you going to explain what’s going on?” she asked him.

Harry sighed. He was too tired to go into it now. He gestured vaguely at Ginny. “Would you mind, Gin?” he asked her wearily. Ginny nodded and then she detailed the entire memory for her brother and Hermione, both of whom listened without one interruption, though Harry thought he heard Ron gagging at the mention of Snape kissing Harry’s mother. Well, Harry certainly couldn’t blame Ron for that, now could he?

When Ginny finished, there was absolute silence. Harry pushed up again on his elbows and looked over at his friends. Ron, by this time had chosen to take a seat on the hard floor, sitting cross legged and leaning backward on his hands slightly, staring up at the ceiling. Hermione was staring at the Pensieve thoughtfully.

“What other memories did you see, Harry?” Hermione finally asked him, not taking her eyes off the receptacle. Harry blinked at her in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Harry,” Hermione said in exasperation, finally looking in his direction. “A Pensieve can hold more than one memory.” She paused, a knowing look stealing over her features. “You left before the first one ended, didn’t you?”

“You would have too, if you’d just found out Snape was your father,” Harry huffed indignantly at her. How was he to know a Pensieve could hold more than one memory?

“Honestly, Hermione! Harry’s had a shock,” Ginny put in, coming to Harry’s defense. That made the bushy-haired girl smile again and Ginny scowl at her in response.

“How do you know there are more anyway?” Harry asked his friend grouchily.

“It seemed pretty full, that’s all…for such a short memory.”

Ginny cut in again, “Well maybe it was a long memory and Harry left too soon to tell.”

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe,” she said and then turning to Harry, she asked, “Well? Don’t you want to find out?”

Harry stared at her. “Are you daft, Hermione? You think I want to see more of that?”

“But, Harry,” the girl protested, “maybe they’ll tell you why-”

“Leave it, Hermione.” That was Ron, finally bringing his head down from his study of the ceiling to look straight at Hermione. Ron’s voice was uncharacteristically firm and after a moment of looking back into his eyes, Hermione drooped a little and nodded. Harry threw a grateful look at his best mate, but Ron had gone back to staring at the ceiling.

Ginny, looking for a way to break the tension in the room, said rather louder than was necessary, “Why don’t we go see if mum needs help getting dinner on?” Hermione nodded enthusiastically; she was obviously just as eager as Ginny to ease the tension she had helped to create. Harry looked at Ron meaningfully however and Ginny, understanding, pulled Hermione from the room without another word.

“Ron? You all right, mate?” Harry tentatively asked the redhead, not having any idea what Ron could be so upset about. For Merlin’s sake, it wasn’t as if Snape was Ron’s father!

Ron looked up suddenly and the anger in his eyes startled Harry. Ron narrowed his eyes and said coldly, “I’d like to punch that git right in the nose.”

Harry burst out laughing, causing Ron to blink in sudden confusion. That only made Harry laugh harder and he hugged his arms around his middle as the laughter became uncontrollable. Ron stared at him for long minutes before he too was struck by the very ridiculousness of the entire situation, including his own final statement and Ron began to laugh with Harry, their mirth echoing off the walls of Ron’s crowded bedroom.

When Harry had gotten himself a bit under control, he stood up from the bed, gave Ron a hand up from the floor and together, the two friends walked out the door. As they started down the stairs, Harry asked lightly, “Do you think your mum'll Reparo those cages for me?”

That of course, made Ron start giggling all over again and Harry joined in; they continued down to the kitchen, unable to contain their humor. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Hermione and Ginny were staring at them as if they were mad. Ron and Harry only laughed louder at the expressions on their faces and it was in high good spirits that they all dug into Mrs. Weasley’s delicious repast. For Harry though, the mood wouldn’t last.

1979

Severus did not particularly enjoy the cold, wet sensation that traveled down his back as Lily cast the Disillusionment Charm over him, but he made no outward sign; he didn't, after all, want to appear weak in front of Potter, no matter how committed he was to getting along with the Gryffindor.

Severus' stoicism was completely lost on James, however, as James wasn't even looking at Severus just then. He was staring out Lily's kitchen window, wondering just what he'd done to deserve this. He remembered exactly how happy he'd felt when Lily had finally been ready to accept a date with him... only to have that date end more disastrously than he could have imagined.

Maybe if he'd grown up a little sooner and hadn't done his best to torture Snape, Lily wouldn't have despised him for so long. He actually should have done his best to become friends with Severus Snape and then maybe Lily would have seen him as something more than an "arrogant toe rag" far sooner than Seventh Year.

And maybe the greasy git wouldn't have taken advantage of Lily's vulnerability that night if it would have meant betraying a friend. James almost laughed at that notion, however; such loyalty was a bit much to expect from a Slytherin. James shook his head and turned around to find Lily watching him silently.

Snape was no longer beside her, but of course Lily would already have placed the Disillusionment Charm on her husband. A bit disconcerting, James realized, not being able to see the other man, and he wondered fleetingly if Snape had ever used the Charm during their years at Hogwarts. It would certainly explain a few things, James mused with a smirk.

"Ready?" Lily asked, breaking into James' reverie. He nodded, trying not to pay attention to the empty spot next to Lily. He found he did not like not being able to see Snape's facial responses to him, not that Snape ever really gave very much away in that harsh face of his. Once again, he wondered what Lily could possibly see in the man. Whatever it was, James doubted very much that he would ever be able to appreciate it.

With that discouraging thought, James followed Lily, and presumably Snape, out the kitchen door and onto the well-manicured lawn. With a nod from Lily, James turned on the spot, and in the next instant, he and Lily were standing a few feet from his own front stoop.

James' parents had died a few years ago, and being the only child, he had inherited their rather large estate. Sirius and Remus, in between their work for Albus and the Order, lived with him. The trio got along well together there, and James realized, with a pang as he stepped up to the door, that he would miss his two friends.

Lily stepped up beside James and took his hand in hers. Even though James recognized the gesture as a show for the other Marauders, he couldn't help but feel warmed by it. Lily's hand just felt right in his, as if a piece of him had been missing for years and now he felt whole again. He smiled involuntarily and the small smile turned to a full-fledged grin when he heard the almost-muffled growl behind him. Yes, James would enjoy this particular show.

Still grinning, James opened the door with a loud, "Alohomora," and scooped a very surprised Lily into his arms and carried her in, over the threshold. After all, Lily had been raised by Muggles, and had they actually just married, James would want to respect her traditions, wouldn't he? James smirked at Lily as she gaped up at him as he marched into his front hall.

xxxxx

Severus had to stop himself from leaping forward and yanking Lily out of Potter's arms. He took a step back as he had already moved forward to do just that. Severus clenched his jaw in anger and tried to relax his stance; Potter, of course, was doing this only to annoy Severus, and since he did believe the Gryffindor meant no harm toward his wife, he would wait and watch quietly.

There was a flurry of footsteps coming down the stairs beyond Lily and Potter, and a very shocked trio of Mauraders came to an abrupt halt before they had fully descended the staircase.

"Surprise," Potter told them brightly. He brought his left hand up slightly from where he was holding Lily's knees and waggled his newly-ringed finger at them. Black was the first to react, whooping in joy as he leapt down the last few steps and grabbed Lily from Potter, swinging her around in a full circle before setting her down on her feet to grab Potter and treating him to the same faux-dance.

It was almost too much for Severus as he watched Black flinging his pregnant wife around so haphazardly. Severus had actually drawn his wand the moment Black had touched Lily. As soon as the man set Lily back on her feet, however, Severus took a deep, steadying breath and slid his wand back up into his sleeve, reminding himself firmly that these men would not hurt Lily and would most likely do all they could to hurt him if they ever found out exactly what was going on between he and Lily.

Severus tensed again as he watched Lupin coming next down the stairs, a touch more quietly, but without any less of the same joy as Black had so disgustingly displayed. Lupin hugged Lily tightly, kissing her on the cheek, which had Severus flexing his fingers against his wand again; the man was a werewolf, after all, and it made Severus anxious to have the creature so close to his wife. He relaxed again as Lupin let Lily go and then clasped Potter in his arms as well, thumping the other man on the back soundly.

Lily had no time to catch her breath, as Pettigrew came down the stairs last and took Lily's hand gently in his own. He whispered his congratulations to her and then hugged Potter as Lupin had done.

Severus nodded at Pettigrew's subdued reaction to Lily, though of course, no one could see his approval.

"James!" Black finally exploded, which had Severus wincing from the unexpected noise. "Why didn't you wait for us?" Black demanded of his friend, though to Severus, he didn't look particularly angry. Severus had seen Black angry many times, and at this moment, Black looked almost peaceful at the news.

"Would you have waited for this?" Potter said with a smirk and a suggestive wave toward Lily. Lily only raised an eyebrow at the remark, although Severus' cheeks colored in outrage and he was extremely grateful for the Charm; it was a rare occasion indeed for him to make such a display.

"Really, James," Lupin said reprovingly, and had not Severus hated the werewolf so intensely, he might have felt gratitude toward him.

"Sorry, Lils," Potter said easily to Lily, sounding completely unabashed. Severus chafed at Potter's nickname for Lily. He hadn't heard that asinine moniker since Hogwarts and wished fervently, not for the first time, that his mother had died along with her husband.

"Tea, Lily?" Pettigrew had materialized at Lily's elbow, bearing a silver tea service.

"Thank you, Peter," Lily told the little man kindly, selecting one of the dainty cups from the tray. She sat lightly on one of the sofas in the large sitting room where Potter had led them earlier. Potter took a cup from Peter as well and sat next to Lily.

Lupin accepted a cup as well, while Black waved Pettigrew away impatiently. Pettigrew scurried away to place the silver tray on a low table and sat nervously in the chair farthest from the group.

"Finally got tired of Snivellus, then?" Black inquired casually to Lily, and to his credit, Potter spluttered into his tea and glared at his friend.

"Merlin, Padfoot!" he exclaimed. "Can't you, for once-"

Lily interrupted smoothly, "It's all right, James." She looked directly at Black and he quelled a fraction under her glare. "Severus and I haven't been together for years, Sirius." Severus frowned at Lily's easy lie. "But I'll thank you not to use that foul name," she finished tartly and Black gave her a tentative smile.

"Sorry, Lily," Black offered apologetically and Lily, after a beat, returned his smile. Black grinned and turned to Potter. "Still as fiery as ever, isn't she, Prongs?" he concluded and Potter laughed.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, mate." Potter patted Lily's knee, making Severus narrow his eyes, watching carefully to make sure Potter's hand strayed no further along his wife's thigh.

Lily shook her head at the childish banter.

"Do you have much to bring in, Lily?" Lupin asked and Potter cleared his throat nervously.

"Actually, Moony, we're going to be staying at Lily's house... for now," Potter added in a hurry at Black's outraged expression.

With the addendum, Black smirked. "Good idea, that. You don't want two bachelors around all the time, mucking up your honeymoon."

Severus nearly growled at the insinuation, while Lily rolled her eyes. Severus frowned at his wife's reaction. She was a much better actor than he would have thought. He didn't much like the thought; he preferred her frank honesty.

Severus continued to stand by the door to the parlor as Potter and his friends prattled on endlessly about inanities, which were mercifully interrupted hours later by Albus, as his face appeared in Potter's Floo.

"Albus, good evening," Potter greeted the older man in feigned surprise.

"Good evening, my boy. May I step through?" Albus asked cheerfully. Potter gestured him in graciously, and a moment later, Albus was stepping onto Potter's hearth.

The Marauders greeted Albus happily and he greeted each in turn before turning back to Potter, his expression taking on a sterner hue. "James, may I speak to you and Lily privately?" James feigned surprise again, though Severus had decided that Lily was a far superior actor. James murmured his assent, and after offering Lily his hand, led Albus toward his office. Severus followed them.

They came out again, after a very short strategy session. Severus had enjoyed Potter's obvious discomfiture while he listened to Albus talking to Severus amicably, while Severus was still under Lily's Charm. Severus hadn't even minded that Lily took his invisible hand and held it the entire time. After all, one couldn't site an impropriety when they couldn't even say positively that Lily had been holding a hand.

Albus said boisterous goodbyes to Potter's friends, and then with a flash of fire, he was gone.

"Albus knew you were married," Black immediately accused and Potter rolled his eyes.

"What did he want, James?" Lupin asked, ignoring Black in favor of being reasonable.

Potter clenched his fist in what Severus decided was meant to be irritation. He quickly told the Marauders the reason for Albus' visit. When Potter had finished, he was met with a stunned silence, one which Severus instantly appreciated. He watched the mute Gryffindors with a smirk.

"You agreed to it?" Black eventually demanded, when he could find his tongue again.

"Of course he did, Padfoot. Calm down," Lupin, ever the level-headed one, tried to soothe his friend.

Potter sighed as he watched Black jump up from his seat and begin pacing. "I had to, Sirius. Albus wouldn't have asked if there was another option."

"But, Sni-, Snape?!" Black amended with a quick look at Lily, who was still standing very close to Severus, and Severus recognized that his wife was trying to draw strength from his presence. Severus took a careful step closer toward Lily and allowed his arm to rest against hers. He was satisfied when Lily relaxed at his touch.

It took the combined talents of both Potter and Lupin to calm Black enough that he finally stopped pacing and grudgingly promised that he wouldn't visit until he could control himself around Severus. "We are, after all, Padfoot, on the same side," Potter had finally implored, to which Black had snorted, but after a glare from Lily, he gave his word.

"Fine, Prongs... fine," Black said, and with that acquiescence, Lily and Potter took their leave of Potter's friends. Lupin walked with them outside, though Black stayed stubbornly inside with Pettigrew, the later ostensibly to console the first.

Severus watched Lily give a fond goodbye and a kiss on the cheek to Lupin before turning on the spot and away from Potter's house. Potter excused himself as soon as they had Apparated back onto Severus and Lily' own lawn, and Severus followed Lily into the kitchen.

After what had seemed like too many wasted hours, Lily finally removed the Charm and Severus almost sighed with relief as he felt the heat course up his back. As the Charm dissolved, Lily threw herself at her husband and Severus stumbled back at the unexpected contact. Severus steadied himself and put his arms around Lily, welcoming her sudden warmth against him.

"I missed you, Sev," she whispered against his robes and Severus raised an amused eyebrow.

"We were never apart," he told her, and hearing the smile in his words, Lily frowned up at him.

"Well, it felt as if we were. I couldn't see you, you know," she reminded him archly.

"I am aware, yes," he returned lightly and then Lily stuck her tongue out at him.

Severus blinked in surprise at her childish retort. "I'm sure your mother must have warned you about your face becoming frozen that way," he scolded her with a smirk after he'd regained his composure.

Lily laughed before standing on tiptoes to kiss her husband's crooked nose. She took Severus' hand and together they went to his lab, as was their custom before retiring for the night.

Severus had completed last night's Potion in the hours before dawn, before Lily had even awoke. Severus started setting up his cauldron to begin preparations for a new Potion, and Lily watched him, not moving to assist him as she usually did. After a few minutes, Severus stopped working and glanced over to his wife in concern.

"Lily, are you feeling unwell?"

Lily smiled at her husband's concerned look and shook her head. "No. I was just thinking...."

Severus frowned. "About?" he prompted.

"Do you think this can really work?" she asked and Severus was instantly on the alert. Lily sounded exhausted. Severus put down the knife he was holding and went over to her, taking her small hands in his.

"Yes," he said simply. Lily looked up at him with questioning eyes, and he favored her with a smile, hoping to boost her spirits. It worked a little, as he saw her green eyes beginning to warm. "It will not be easy. But I am committed to nothing more strongly than you and our son. I will do whatever it may require to make it work."

Lily bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes, something that Severus had rarely witnessed, and he felt a tightening in his chest as he brought his fingers to brush his wife's soft cheek. A few tears slipped from Lily's beautiful eyes and Severus caught them before they fell fully.

Lily laid her hand against the course one gentle on her cheek, and she leaned forward so that her husband could pull her to his chest. "I love you, Sev," she said quietly.

"And I you," Severus told her simply, placing a gentle kiss on her hair.

1996

Even though most would find it very hard to believe, Harry didn't think he had ever felt so jittery in this particular dungeon classroom before. Most of the combined class of Slytherin and Gryffindor were already seated, waiting for Snape.

Harry figured he wouldn't have been so nervous if he had seen just a glimpse of the man last night. Snape, for the first time since Harry had been at Hogwarts, hadn't been at the Welcoming Feast, and Harry felt sure the Potions master had somehow missed the Feast to torture him, though of course, Snape could have no idea that he was feeling so anxious.

It was an anxiety not born entirely of anger, either. Harry had stayed awake most of last night and the night before, fretfully angry at both his mother and James, but mostly at Snape. Harry was furious that the three of them had kept this from him, had lied to everyone about his true parentage, but there was also something else that Harry didn't want to admit to feeling.

And he wouldn't admit it out loud, but the fact was that Harry was hurt. Hurt that Snape, someone as loathsome as Severus Snape, didn't want him for a son. Just how bad could he have been as a baby to make his own father hate him so much?

And then, mingled unevenly with the anger and hurt was a fair amount of disgust as well. Even though known only to three of his friends, the idea that the most hated professor at Hogwarts was his father did generate within Harry a fair amount of repugnance.

Harry shuddered as he heard the classroom door slam shut and then the unmistakable flap of Snape's robes as the professor strode down the narrow aisle toward the front of the classroom. Harry closed his eyes, in a childish effort to avoid dealing with his fears, and hoped fervently that Snape would not notice him. That, of course, was a very foolish wish.

The next thing Harry heard was Snape's icy question, "Bored already, Potter?"

Harry's eyes snapped open and Snape drawled, "You may have been forced unfairly upon me and your more competent classmates, Potter, as your O.W.L. scores were expectedly abysmal, but even you should realize that Potions class is not an appropriate place for a nap."

Harry clenched his fists in front of him on his desk, his eyes snapping in anger. But he wasn't going to start off the first day by getting himself a detention, so he forced down the desire to snap at the man.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry, and Harry met the Potions master's glare evenly, because even though he wasn't going to give the man a blatant reason to give him an unfair punishment, he certainly wasn't going to let Snape see him cower, either.

Snape, it seemed, wanted to see Harry (not to mention his fellow Gryffindors) do exactly that. With a flick of his wand, Snape set the instructions for the day's potion on the board and intoned, "For the duration of N.E.W.T. level Potions, we will employ the practice of inter-house pairs. Though most of you are probably capable of choosing your own partners, I believe it would be prudent to make sure those of you less capable have competent partners... don't you agree, Mr. Potter?" Snape paused as though expecting Harry to answer in the affirmative, and when Harry didn't respond, preferring instead to seethe silently, Snape smirked.

"Nothing to say, Potter?" Snape turned toward Malfoy, and with an apologetic look, he said to the Slytherin boy, "I do regret having to burden you, Mr. Malfoy. However, as you are the most competent of our House in Potions, perhaps with your assistance, Potter can at least scrape by with an Acceptable this afternoon."

Harry expected Malfoy to be mimicking Snape's malicious sneer, but the Slytherin boy wasn't even looking at Harry. Malfoy wordlessly nodded at Snape, which seemed to make the professor purse his lips in agitation. Snape didn't comment, however. Instead, he snapped at the class to get started and then began his usual prowl around the classroom.

Hermione and Ron were giving Harry sympathetic looks, to which Harry only shrugged and tried to decide if he should move over to Malfoy's table or let the other boy come to him. The decision was made for him as Pansy Parkinson tossed her bag down forcefully, right on top of Harry's books.

Harry glared up at the pug-faced girl, but she spoke before he had a chance. "Move, Potter. Draco's waiting," she snapped out, and Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, who was looking up at the Slytherin girl with a fair amount of fear.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep his highness waiting, now would I?" Harry asked Ron sarcastically and thought Ron tried to choke out an answer to him, but it sounded more like a strangled cough than any coherent words. With a sigh, Harry relinquished his seat to Ron's new partner and walked slowly over to Malfoy.

Malfoy didn't look up as Harry slid into the seat beside him; he was busy setting out the ingredients listed on the board, but the motions looked almost mechanical to Harry, as if Malfoy had something else on his mind, but since Harry had spent almost no time over the years alone with Malfoy, he really couldn't be sure.

With nothing else to do, Harry began setting up his cauldron, but only with a half-hearted effort, as he expected Malfoy would break in with a snide comment about Harry's half-blood cauldron not being good enough, but Malfoy didn't appear to notice Harry's movements.

When Harry had charmed the cauldron to warm, Malfoy was still methodically setting out each ingredient on the desk in front of him. When he got near the end of the list and seemed not to have a particular ingredient in his Potions case, he silently walked over to Snape's classroom supply closet and got what he needed.

By the time Malfoy returned, Harry was more than a little annoyed. Although he was more than happy to ignore the beastly Slytherin, Harry didn't see how they were going to do much together this way.

Just as Harry was opening his mouth to say as much, Malfoy suddenly asked, "Do you want to slice the Findicuular Root, or shall I?"

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Malfoy had delivered the question without a trace of animosity or sarcasm in his voice; Malfoy was almost indifferent. What was he up to? Malfoy was watching him, waiting for a response, and Harry shrugged as casually as he could. "I'll do it," he told the Slytherin. Malfoy gave a short nod and then took up his mortar and pestle and began pounding his Bicorn Horn into a fine powder, as required.

Harry and Malfoy completed the rest of the potion in near silence. They only spoke in order to divide the work and Harry was shocked at how fair Malfoy was. The Slytherin cut up the toad livers without Harry asking him to and even took his turn when it was time to stir the potion exactly fifty times.

By the time they had finished brewing a near-perfect potion, Harry had almost decided that working with Malfoy wasn't so bad after all.

Until Snape swooped down on them, that is.

The Potions master had left them alone throughout the class, but as soon as he saw their completed potion, he announced loudly for the whole class to hear, "Well, Potter, it seems as though you are capable of brewing a decent potion... that is, if you have Mr. Malfoy doing all of the work for you."

Harry clenched his jaw against the foul words that were fighting to come out. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't worth it just to save his pride, but he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, so he bit out, "I did just as much work as Malfoy." He left the 'sir' hanging in the air at the end and Snape's nostrils flared at the intentional disrespect.

"Impossible, as Mr. Malfoy hasn't been sent to Madam Pomfrey to re-grow any limbs this session. Ten points for lying," Snape finished evenly, ignoring the indignant spluttering from the other Gryffindors and the gleeful smiles of the Slytherins as he turned his back on Harry. "Class dismissed," he snapped, and the students hurried to clean up their messes and re-pack their bags, the Gryffindors still muttering under their breaths as they did so.

Harry glowered at Snape's back as he put his supplies away, ignoring Malfoy as the Slytherin packed his ingredients back into his expensive case. After Harry had crammed his belongings haphazardly into his bag, he stomped out the classroom door, where Hermione and Ron were waiting for him.

Ron exploded the moment the classroom door closed behind Harry. "That arse! I can't believe that that git is your-"

"Ronald!" Hermione interrupted him in mid-rant, and Ron shut up instantly, looking around a bit wildly as if to see if anyone had noticed his overly-loud voice.

"Sorry, Harry," he said sheepishly to his friend, who just shrugged.

"Harry," Hermione began in a soothing voice, only to be interrupted by him.

"I'm fine, Hermione. It's not as if I was expecting anything else," he said carelessly and wished that Hermione wouldn't look at him with those sympathetic eyes. He addressed his next words to Ron, just to avoid looking at her, "I'll tell you what, though... Malfoy was acting very strangely. He didn't say one mean word to me the entire class."

Ron raised his eyebrows, but said wisely, "He's up to something, that one."

Harry nodded his agreement while Hermione tilted her head in concentration. "What could Malfoy be up to, though?" she asked to no one in particular.

Harry laughed. "It's Malfoy. He could be up to almost anything." Ron snorted, and the three of them continued on their way up to the Tower, their conversation straying to lighter topics as they climbed higher.

"Insidiae," Harry told the Fat Lady, and with a lazy sweep of her hand, she allowed the trio entry into the Gryffindor common room.

Harry grinned when he spotted Ginny seated on one of the sofas near the fireplace. She was reading a book, her slim legs curled to the side. She looked up when she heard their voices and waved them over, a smile on her face.

"How did it go?" Ginny asked without preamble.

"Snape took points for Harry actually being competent, that's how," Ron growled and Harry gave him a look.

"Actually being competent?" he mocked back and Ron made a face.

"You know what I mean," his friend groused.

"Well, at least you didn't get detention," Ginny said with a grimace and a comforting pat to Harry's hand.

"Well, it is only the first day, Gin. There'll be plenty of opportunities for Snape to give me detention," Harry assured her with a grin. Ginny shook her head in amusement.

"Tell her about Draco," Ron suggested, and at Ginny's look of interest, Harry did.

"Not one snide remark?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Not a one," Harry insisted with a laugh.

"Of course he's plotting something. I can't figure out what it could be, though." Ginny wrinkled her nose as she thought over the possibilities, and Harry stared at her, fascinated despite himself, until Hermione nudged him gently.

He said lightly, "Well, whatever it is, I'm not going to sit here worrying about it. Maybe that's his plan... to make all of us barmy with our speculations."

That made Ginny laugh and Harry wondered how he had never noticed how nice the sound was. He settled down on the couch next to her and pulled out his Transfiguration Text. McGonagall had loaded them with work, after a very long lecture about how challenging her class was going to be.

Ron and Hermione took out their books as well, though Ron only after grumbling for a good five minutes about how it was only the first day of school, to which Hermione replied, "We're N.E.W.T students, Ron!" and then they all settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by Hermione's occasional comments about how fascinating Transfiguration was going to be this year. Harry grinned into his book each time she said it and decided it was very good to be back at Hogwarts.

xxxxx

Severus closed the door to his classroom with a wave of his hand, activating the silencing spells around the classroom before walking over to Draco's desk.

"Are you all right?" he asked the boy quietly. Draco started at the sound of Severus' voice so close to him. He looked up at the man and nodded.

"I'm fine, sir," he answered, quiet as well.

Severus studied his pupil closely and then said to him, "You did well today." It did not matter that the words did not wish to pass his lips.

Draco lifted his shoulders slightly. "It was easier than I thought it would be."

Severus raised an eyebrow at the young man as he tempered the sarcastic response, "Yes, it is easy to work with someone when you do not give them anything to fight against. You would have found it much more difficult had you actually spoken to Potter."

Draco looked up sharply at the quiet reprimand. "You're a fine one to give advice about getting along with Potter, Severus. You just took ten points from him for lying when you know very well he didn't."

Severus glared at Draco. "My treatment of Potter is not your concern, Draco."

Draco smirked at him. "Don't you mean mistreatment, Severus?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at Draco's insolence, though he was relieved to see a bit of the boy's old self resurfacing; there would be less to concern himself with that way. "Mind your tongue, Mr. Malfoy," he told the boy anyway, not wanting to encourage Draco's impertinence, no matter the circumstances.

"Yes, sir," Draco said, without a trace of chagrin.

Severus favored the boy with a hard look before saying seriously, "I believe your father and I spoke to you about wondering about the castle alone. You should have left with your classmates."

Draco slumped a little in his chair. "I'm not a prisoner," he said sulkily, and Severus had to purse his lips to keep from snapping at the boy. Well, at least it hadn't taken long to snap Draco out of his mood, Severus thought sourly before shaking his head at the boy.

"No, you are not," Severus agreed. "You are, however, to follow that one rule. It is non-negotiable, Draco. You cannot give yourself unintentional opportunities," he pressed on when Draco tried to protest.

Finally, Draco huffed with ill grace, "Fine."

Severus nodded, relieved to be finished with this conversation. "Gather your belongings, then. I will walk you back to the common room."

Grumbling, Draco picked up his neatly filled bag and followed his professor out into the dungeon corridors.

1980

"Mother," Severus intoned as he was shown into her parlor by the house-elf, Shminge.

Eileen inclined her head and waited for Severus to sit before directing Shminge to pour both of them a cup of steaming tea. The house-elf offered biscuits to Severus, who declined with a slight shake of his head. The little elf departed with a bow.

"I hear the Evans girl is expecting." Severus didn't respond as he studied his mother from under hooded eyes. "James Potter is the father... a cruel blow, Severus," his mother clucked in feigned sorrow for her son. When Severus still didn't give her a reaction, Eileen pressed on, "Though it is rumored that it is a bastard child... they married very suddenly."

It was with considerable effort that Severus' face remained a blank mask of calm at his mother's careless referral to his son as a bastard. Eileen didn't even notice as Severus pushed his thoughts of hatred toward his mother further into the deepest recesses of his mind.

Severus stared blandly at Eileen until, with a sigh of annoyance, she gave up on goading her son, turning instead to the art of the insult. "Lucius and Narcissa were here for a visit only yesterday. Lucius speaks highly of you."

Severus' lip curled as he listened to his mother. What should have been a compliment came out quite the opposite when delivered by his mother; Eileen cast doubt upon Lucius Malfoy's very intelligence with her comment.

"Lucius has been known to be in error, certainly," Severus agreed.

Eileen pursed her lips at her son's impertinence and said snidely, "Lucius Malfoy has his loyalties straight, Severus. Can you make the same claim?"

Severus ignored the heat in Eileen's question and remarked mildly, "I did take the Dark Lord's Mark, Mother."

Eileen gazed at Severus, assessing him briefly before giving a curt nod. "A wise choice. And now that your little Mudblood friend is taken care of, perhaps you can continue in the traditions you were born to."

Severus covered the anger before it could flash in his eyes and stayed perfectly still as he registered the surprise on his mother's undisciplined face. Her use of that hateful word had been carefully calculated in an effort to force Severus to let his true feelings slip.

"Perhaps," he told Eileen simply and was pleased when his mother smiled her thin-lipped smile. With his mother firmly believing that Severus had moved on from his 'infatuation' with Lily, all of them would be immeasurably safer.

xxxxx

It was to an empty house that Severus Apparated back to, hours later. With his heart hammering dizzyingly in his chest, Severus called for his house-elf. Tolly appeared instantly.

"Master is needing something?" Tolly asked eagerly.

"Where is Lily?" Severus asked, his voice ringing octaves above normal with his fear.

"Master James is taking Mistress to St. Mungo's."

"What?" Severus roared at the little elf. "When?"

Tolly twitched nervously as he stammered, "Two-two hours ago, Master."

Severus, with fear gripping him, raced into the fireplace in the parlor. He had just enough presence of mind to place a hurried Disillusionment Charm on himself before grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, flinging it down and shouting, "St. Mungo's!"

The Floo spit him out in the waiting room moments later, and Severus ran all the way to the Maternity section, stopping only to check a parchment on the wall identifying the location of Lily's room. He opened Lily's door carefully and closed it completely before undoing the Charm.

Lily was lying on a bed with white linens, her eyes closed and her hair a bright scarlet splash against the pale pillowcase. Potter was standing beside Severus' wife, her hand held in his. At the sight of Severus coming through the door, Potter glanced indecisively at the hand he was holding, then apparently making a decision, he set his jaw and kept Lily's hand in his.

Severus paid little attention to the contact, however, as he went to the other side of Lily's bed. He assessed her briefly with a clinical wave of his wand, noting her even breathing and the steady heartbeat of their child, safe within her womb. He relaxed considerably and took Lily's free hand.

"What happened?" Severus finally asked, though he didn't take his eyes off of his wife. He heard the rustle of Potter's robes as the other man shifted.

"She was having contractions."

Severus glanced up at Potter in surprise. "But it is much too early."

"Yes," Potter agreed, nodding. "I brought her to see Healer Blunt. She gave Lily some potions to stop the contractions. Blunt wants to talk to both of you... when Lily wakes up," he finished, looking steadily at Severus.

Blunt, Lily's midwife, was brought into their inner circle soon after James came to live with them, against Severus' initial wishes, but Lily had insisted, citing the need for a midwife to understand the complete genetic makeup of her tiny patient. Severus had finally agreed, recognizing that he was not going to win this particular argument. And Healer Blunt, a member of the Order, had proved a trustworthy ally.

Severus brushed a lock of Lily's hair away from her unusually pale face before asking, "When did Blunt give Lily the Sleeping Draught?" Severus could easily detect the potion on Lily's breath as her chest rose and fell.

Potter, to his credit, betrayed no surprise that Severus had known about the potion as he answered, "Right after she stopped the contractions. Lily was distraught...." He trailed off, and again, Severus eyes pierced up to Potter's as he caught the pain in the other man's voice. Severus, however, felt none of the usual pleasure at the other man's discomfort. Instead, he felt an unfamiliar twinge of something almost unrecognizable as he studied the Gryffindor holding his wife's small hand protectively.

Severus didn't have time to ponder this development as Healer Blunt strode in after a sharp rap to Lily's door. "Severus," she greeted warmly to the Potions Master as she came into the room. "I'm glad you're here."

"Healer," Severus returned. "What happened?" Blunt waved her wand in a fashion akin to the way Severus had waved his own over Lily only minutes before. The midwife narrowed her eyes as she studied Lily before turning back to Severus.

"Lily's body went into labor early, but I was able to stop it. Lily and the baby are fine," she answered Severus' unspoken question and then hesitated.

"Something is wrong, Healer?" Severus asked, not bothering to hide his anxiety.

Blunt shook her head. "No, but I do have to insist that Lily remain as relaxed and as rested as possible for the foreseeable future. She should not have any undue stress." Severus' stomach clenched in guilt as he nodded at Lily's midwife. Circumstances had led Lily to experience far too much stress, Severus knew.

"Of course, Healer," Severus murmured.

Blunt nodded briskly. "Good. I will be back when Lily wakes up," she promised.

Again, Severus nodded. "Thank you," he said, looking up at the midwife as she turned to leave the room.

Blunt's gaze flicked to Potter and she said coolly, "Thank James. Had he not been there to bring Lily to me, it is very possible that you could have lost your son... and your wife." Severus felt the color drain from his face at the midwife's words. Blunt studied the trio for a moment before taking her leave.

Thank Potter?

The concept was unfathomable to Severus. How could he utter those words to a man he had despised for more than a decade? But as he watched his wife's peaceful, sleeping form, even Severus had to recognize the debt of gratitude he owed his long-time enemy, and not just for this act tonight.

For months, Severus had refused to acquiesce to his wife's insistence about how much Potter was giving up in order to protect her... to protect Severus' family. Severus' heart warmed in his chest as his eyes lingered over the bump under Lily's sheet. Without thinking about it, he grazed his fingertips over Lily's swollen abdomen.

Severus realized with a start that even his formidable pride was nothing to the love he already felt for this person he didn't yet know. The silence overwhelmed the room for many minutes before Severus finally looked up again. Potter met his gaze evenly, without rancor.

"Thank you." Severus' voice was absolutely frigid, without any feeling, but Potter seemed to understand the depth of the sentiment, anyway.

The Gryffindor smiled at him. "You're welcome, Severus."

Severus stiffened at the use of his given name. He stared at Potter for many long seconds before nodding curtly and returning his attention to the woman between them.

1996

Harry was waiting impatiently for Dumbledore’s staircase to complete its upward spiral toward the Headmaster’s office. He had received an owl during dinner from the Headmaster, requesting Harry’s presence ‘post haste’ in the old man’s loopy scrawl.

“What do you suppose he wants?” Hermione had asked to which Harry had shrugged. Harry had long given up trying to figure the Headmaster out. To Harry’s thinking, Dumbledore was equally likely to present him with the recipe for lemon drops, as he was to give Harry a complicated reason for offing Voldemort by sundown the next day.

Ron had guffawed loudly when Harry had said as much, while Hermione favored them both with a disparaging look. Harry smiled at the memory of Ron responding by making a face at Hermione while she scooped up a second helping of treacle tart.

Dumbledore’s staircase finally stopped spinning and Harry knocked lightly on the Headmaster’s large door. The door swung open for him and Harry stepped gingerly over the threshold.

“Harry, my boy, do come in.” The headmaster smiled and waved Harry forward. Harry smiled back at the Headmaster hesitantly, as he remembered the wild fit he’d had in Dumbledore’s office at the end of last term; his face heated in embarrassment.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at him. “The past is past, Harry. Please make yourself comfortable.” Harry wondered, as he often did, at the Headmaster’s ability to jump right to where Harry’s mind was. He didn’t ponder it long though as he was eager to get on with whatever the man was going to say.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said politely and chose one of the plush chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

“Shall we get straight to business, then Harry, as I know you are eager to return to your friends?” The old wizard’s eyes were twinkling merrily at Harry’s sheepish look. Dumbledore nodded briskly and continued, “Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Sundry,” Harry nodded. He’d had class with the slightly maniacal-faced witch only this morning.

“She has been called back home, I’m afraid, Harry. As our luck would have it, however, I’ve found a replacement. I’ve received his answer in the affirmative just this very hour.” Dumbledore smiled at Harry’s confusion. Why would the Headmaster ask Harry to his office to tell him about a new teacher?

“I don’t understand, sir”

“Of course not, Harry. How could you, when I haven’t explained?” The old blue eyes danced behind the Headmaster’s half-moon spectacles and Harry bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance. Couldn’t the man just talk without all the riddles?

“Perhaps, you will understand in a minute. If you’ll turn your attention to the Floo, Harry,” Dumbledore requested and Harry turned toward the old fireplace, still perfectly befuddled.

Harry was about to ask what exactly the Headmaster was doing when the Floo roared to life and the telltale green flames rose up. A moment later, Harry gaped at the man who stepped out.

“Remus?” he asked incredulously and without another word, Harry threw himself at his friend and Remus immediately had the boy in a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you, Harry,” Remus told him quietly as the werewolf squeezed warmly and then pulled away slightly to look at Prongs’ son.

“You’re going to teach here? But, I thought the parents wouldn’t like it,” Harry blurted thoughtlessly before he could stop himself.

“We’re at war, Harry. Things change,” Remus told him simply and though Harry really didn’t understand how much things were changed by war, he nodded anyway.

“Professor Lupin,” Dumbledore said warmly and Remus smiled at him. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Lupin acknowledged.

“Won’t you sit down? You too, my boy,” Dumbledore gestured to the two chairs in front of him and after a light squeeze to his shoulder from Remus, Harry sat down again.

Dumbledore surveyed both of them for a minute before saying conversationally, “I had a meeting with Professor Snape earlier this evening.”

Harry’s stiffened at the mention of Snape. Remus noticed the sudden movement and wondered over it as he watched Harry swallow convulsively before turning his gaze back to Dumbledore with questioning eyes. Dumbledore however didn’t appear to notice Harry’s discomfort. He continued right on, “I believe it might be wise, Harry for the two of you to resume Occlumency.”

“No,” Harry said quietly, looking straight into the Headmaster’s eyes.

“Harry!” Remus scolded, quite surprised by the young man’s defiance. Harry turned to Remus briefly with a calculating look in his eye and then turned back to Dumbledore with a frown.

“Is that why you asked Remus back, then? You needed someone to look out for me in case Voldemort makes me go barmy again?” Harry asked bitterly.

Dumbledore didn’t appear at all perturbed by Harry’s disrespect. In contrast, Remus was gazing at his young friend reproachfully.

“Harry,” Remus began but Dumbledore held up a quieting hand.

“It’s quite all right, Remus,” he said without taking his eyes off of Harry. “Harry,” he continued, “I know you and Professor Snape had some difficulties last year-”

“Difficulties?” Harry interrupted, incensed. “Snape hates me. Not to mention, the man can’t teach Occlumency worth shite!” Harry folded his arms jerkily over his chest. He knew Remus was staring at him; the werewolf’s mouth was twisted in a firm frown of disapproval. And though Harry felt a twinge of guilt for speaking so rudely to the Headmaster, he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to apologize.

“Professor Snape, has agreed to try again. I would appreciate it if you would do the same, Harry” Dumbledore continued as though Harry had not interrupted, although his voice had taken on an unfamiliar hard edge.

Harry kept his eyes down, staring resolutely at his knees. He couldn’t agree to this. It would take Snape only about five seconds to pull out Harry’s memory of his time in the Pensieve and Harry wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t going to be rejected again. He just wasn’t.

Harry drew in a deep, calming breath and looked up again, this time looking Dumbledore straight in the eye. “Professor, I’ll try to learn Occlumency.” Dumbledore smiled, but Harry wasn’t done. “But not with Snape,” he finished defiantly.

“Harry, that’s enough.” Remus by this time was standing and glaring at Harry. Harry met Remus’ eye and then promptly looked down again, startled by the ire in the other man’s gaze. “You’ll do as Professor Dumbledore asks. What has gotten into you?”

Harry didn’t know think Remus was actually expecting an answer so he didn’t respond. He also didn’t look up again at his old friend, not wanting to see the disappointment he hadn’t seen since his unauthorized trip to Hogsmeade third year.

“Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle and Harry bit his lip. He didn’t particularly enjoy upsetting the Headmaster but what could he do? Occlumency with Snape had ‘disaster’ written all over it. “I’m afraid, my boy, that I’m not giving you a choice. Professor Snape is expecting you at seven o’clock tomorrow evening.”

Harry made his decision then and he stood up slowly to face the Headmaster. He realized he would probably regret it but he did it anyways. “You’d better tell him not to be then, because I’m not going anyway near Snape tomorrow night.” Harry delivered his words quietly and without waiting for a response from either of his Professors, he turned and walked out of the office, leaving two very shocked wizards in his wake.

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

Harry stormed his way up the enchanted staircases and snapped “Insidiae,” at the Fat Lady who looked affronted but let him in anyway. Harry stomped over to his favorite chair by the fireplace and flopped into it with a huff. Ron, who was occupying the other chair looked up in concern at his friend.

“What happened?”

“Dumbledore wants me to take Occlumency again with Snape!” Harry fumed, outraged by the entire situation. Why did the overgrown bat have to be his father? The idea of Occlumency with the Potions Master was bad enough already without having to worry about the man finding out that Harry knew his secret.

Ron was looking at Harry sympathetically. “Bad luck, mate. But, it can’t be as bad as last year, yeah?”

“Are you mad, Ron? I can’t let Snape read my thoughts!” Harry stared at his ginger-haired friend as though Ron had grown another set of ears and after a moment’s confusion Ron finally nodded slowly in understanding.

“Right, Harry. Sorry.” Harry groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head as far into the cushion as was possible. He knew Ron was probably staring at him but he didn’t care. “What are you going to do?” Ron asked after awhile and Harry smirked a bit.

“I told Dumbledore no.”

Harry cracked an eye open and smiled fully as he watched Ron staring at him. “You told Dumbledore no? Just like that?” Ron asked, awestruck.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah,” a pause and then he added casually, “Oh, and Remus is back to teach D.A.D.A. this year.” Harry smiled at his friend’s whoop of joy, before closing his eyes again.

Harry’s plans were quickly changed the next evening after dinner when McGonagall entered the Gryffindor common room, a sour look on her face. All the students looked up at their Head of House in surprise; she didn’t often come into the tower. McGonagall surveyed the room briefly before her eyes fell on Harry.

“Potter, come with me.” Harry looked at her in some surprise, having no idea what his professor could want with him.

“Ma’am?” he questioned as he stood up slowly.

“Now, Potter. I don’t have all night and the Headmaster’s waiting,” McGonagall said impatiently. Harry’s insides clenched painfully. That sneaky bastard, he thought bitterly though he did have to give credit to the man. Dumbledore knew Harry wouldn’t dare defy McGonagall.

With a defeated sigh, he followed McGonagall out the portrait hole and down the stairs, which, Harry noticed stayed quite still for the Professor. Neither Harry nor his teacher said a word to one another as they made their way to Dumbledore’s office. Harry was scrambling to figure out what he was going to say to Dumbledore.

What could Harry possibly say to make the man see he couldn’t do what Dumbledore was asking? Harry had almost decided that honesty might be the only way, no matter how wretched the prospect was, when they reached the Gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office.

“Peppermint Pizzazz,” McGonagall said sharply to the Gargoyle and the two of them were spinning upward toward the Headmaster’s office. At the door, McGonagall rapped twice before the door swung open.

Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed at the sight that awaited them. Dumbledore, Snape and Remus were standing in front of the Headmaster’s desk, apparently waiting for them.

Snape’s lip curled at the sound of Harry’s laughter. “You believe your defiance a joke, do you, Potter?” he spat out caustically and Harry smiled at him.

“Apparently it’s no joke if it takes four of you to get me here,” Harry told him flippantly. McGonagall snapped around to look at him, her mouth set in a thin line.

“That will be quite enough of your cheek, Mr. Potter, or we will conclude this meeting with a detention.” Harry colored slightly at her admonishment.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said quietly, even though he was seething inside at Snape’s sanctimonious expression. McGonagall nodded at Harry in approval before turning back around to face the Headmaster.

Dumbledore cleared his throat before saying to Harry, “Thank you for coming, my boy. Professor Snape has agreed,” a mutter from Snape proved otherwise but Dumbledore continued easily, “to allow Professor Lupin to sit in on your lessons if it will make you more comfortable.”

Three of the adults watched Harry expectantly, while Snape glared at the boy as if daring him to admit he was so weak as to be uncomfortable in Snape’s presence. Harry glared right back at the Potions Master and gritted his teeth.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he stated firmly.

Dumbledore looked at him in gentle confusion. “Can you tell us, then, Harry, why you do not wish to continue with your Occlumency lessons, when it is most imperative that you do so?”

Harry stuffed his fists into his pockets, in a vain attempt at nonchalance. It was obvious that nothing short of the truth was going to help him here, though he was beginning to wonder if even the fact that Harry knew everything the Headmaster and Snape had been so obviously hiding would be enough to deter either of them.

Probably at least Snape, Harry mused. After all, the man would be mortified, wouldn’t he to learn that Harry knew the truth? Most likely, Snape would be the uncomfortable party, as it seemed he’d done everything he could to ensure that Harry never found out the truth.

And with every part of him vibrating with vindictive relish, Harry smiled at Snape.

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

Snape narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the sudden shift in Potter’s mood. What was the boy up to, he wondered silently.

“Sure,” Potter said in what Severus recognized as a calculating tone, though it seemed Potter was trying to sound self-assured. The attempted bravado, so like the brat’s father. Severus couldn’t believe he had once found himself feeling anything less than hatred for James Potter. Severus Occluded his mind against thoughts of the traitorous Gryffindor and waited impatiently for his brat to continue.

When Potter just continued to stare stupidly at him, Severus growled, “Well, Potter? Even you come up with a better explanation that ‘sure’.” Potter’s raised a brow at Severus and Severus raised a mocking one in return. Would the idiotic Gryffindor never get on with it?

“No, I meant sure, go ahead, yell ‘Legilimens’ and let’s get this over with.”

Severus examined Potter with acute suspicion, though he made sure to cover his surprise. Occlumency lessons last year were always an exercise in humiliation for Potter, due to the boy’s predictable lack of any natural talent in the area. It was doubtful, Severus was sure that the boy wanted his other three Professors to witness his embarrassment.

Minerva and Lupin were looking at Harry in concern, while Albus, the old fool, was looking quite pleased by Potter’s sudden change of heart. Well, decided Severus with a malicious sneer, if Potter was stupid enough to ask, then Severus would certainly deliver.

In one smooth motion, Severus had his wand out, waved it in a meticulous motion and said calmly, “Legilimens”.

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

Harry realized the flaw in his plan too late. The memory wouldn’t embarrass the Potions Master as Snape would be the only one to see it inside Harry’s mind and of course, Snape wouldn’t share what he’d seen with the others in the room. In a moment of wild panic, Harry yelled, “Wait!” but Snape was already chanting the spell.

Harry stumbled back with the force of Snape’s mental intrusion and he tried to force his thoughts away from the Pensieve memory but all that meant was that Harry was thinking about the memory even harder and within a minute, the events from the Pensieve filled his mind for Snape to see.

His mother caressing baby Harry’s face. James’ hesitation as he spoke to Lily. Snape bursting into the room and cradling little Harry in his arms.

“We would like Harry’s middle name to be James…after you.”

“No!” Harry was shouting but he needn’t have bothered. Snape had broken off contact with Harry’s mind abruptly, and Harry was flung backward onto Dumbledore’s floor with the force of it.

Snape glared at Harry as he towered over the boy, Snape’s breathing much heavier than normal. He sneered, as Remus knelt beside Harry, touching the boy lightly on the shoulder.

“Harry? Are you all right?” Remus asked gently but Harry couldn’t answer him. He was waiting with his breath drawn as he watched Snape’s livid features. What would the man do? Would Snape deny the truth right to Harry’s face? Harry’s insides turned to ice as something in Snape’s face twisted and it almost looked like the man would smile.

Instead, Snape sneered down at Harry and said coldly, “So, Potter. You hoped your little trick would wound me in some way? Maybe you wished to embarrass me?” Snape paused as he watched Harry’s face contort through several emotions before continuing, the vindictive glee in his voice quite clear to all. “Fortunately for both of us, Potter, your little memory was nothing but a lie.”

Harry couldn’t believe it.

Harry struggled up from the floor, with Remus keeping a steadying hand on his arm. “You’re the one who’s lying!” Harry spat as he faced Snape.

Snape regarded him with raised eyebrows. “Am I?”

Without a word, Snape reached out suddenly and grabbed Harry’s chin in his calloused hand, yanking the boy’s face up toward his own. Harry, startled beyond speech, tried desperately to pull himself away but Snape held him firmly. “Look at me,” Snape commanded in a voice that chilled Harry to his core. Harry stilled and obeyed.

Harry lost himself completely as his mind plunged through a confusing series of images. Blurred memories that were not his own flashed through Harry’s mind.

The images began to slow and sharpen in their focus and Harry became the memories…became Snape.

Lily was seated behind the bench in Severu’s lab. She was chopping something with a small knife and every few seconds she darted nervous glances over at Severus, who was methodically stirring a cauldron, pretending not to notice his wife’s odd behavior.

After a few minutes of the Lily’s ridiculous staring, Severus finally looked up from his Potion. He had had enough of Lily’s silence. He frowned at her and asked quietly, “Lily, what is it?”

Lily looked confused and shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine,” she told her husband but her voice sounded distant. She sounded nothing like his Lily.

Severus stopped stirring abruptly and turned to face Lily fully. He didn’t even bother to place a Stasis Charm over the cauldron, a measure of just how concerned he was; he could endure no more of this. “Lily, you have barely spoken a word in two days. If you are angry with me-”

Lily interrupted with a heavy sigh. “I’m not angry,” she told Severus tiredly and then before he could question her further, Lily’s eyes took on a hard edge and she lifted her chin slightly and Severus recognized the determination in her face. “I have to tell you something, Severus.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed as he studied Lily. He Occluded his mind quickly. Whatever it was, Lily obviously knew it would make him angry, so Severus prepared himself. “What is it?” Severus finally asked, his features a passive mask.

Lily bit her lip again and turned away from Severus, which made Severus clench his jaw in anticipation. This promised to be bad, indeed. Lily’s voice was barely audible when she spoke again. Severus had to lean forward in order to hear her next words, as his wife whispered, “James is Harry’s father. I wasn’t sure before, but…I am now.”

Severus reared back as though he had been slapped, his eyes wide as he stared at Lily.

“What?” he rasped out, the question a strangled cry. It couldn’t be, he wanted to shout at her. It wasn’t true. Harry was his son, not Potter’s. His son. But Lily was looking at him now, with such anguish and Severus’ heart tore into pieces. Severus felt himself falling, losing himself completely to endless shadow as his life was rent from him.

Harry was falling, his heart ripping to shreds as he spiraled downwards toward an endless chasm of black. And then Harry was sprawled on his back on the floor of Dumbledore’s office, staring up into Remus’ anxious face.

“Lily,” Harry gasped and Remus sucked in a surprised breath above him.

“Harry?” Remus shook Harry’s shoulder gently. Harry blinked in confusion before pushing himself up unsteadily. Remus helped him sit up and Harry looked around for Snape, his stomach in knots.

Snape was hunched over in one of the Headmaster’s cushy chairs, his large hand covering his face. McGonagall was hovering over the Potions Master with a very concerned twist to her normally pinched lips. Snape didn’t seem to notice her, or anyone else in the room as he sat, his shoulders quivering slightly. Harry swallowed, trying to force down the large lump in his throat.

He was glad, Harry told himself firmly. Of course he was. Snape was not his father. James and Lily had always been his parents. He should be thrilled. Why, then, Harry wondered did he feel a deep emptiness echoing wretchedly throughout his limbs?

“Harry, what happened?” Remus was staring at Harry and Harry finally pulled his gaze from Snape’s hunched form.

Words tumbled from Harry’s lips before he could stop them. “Snape’s not my father. It was a lie. James was my father all along.”

Harry expected Remus to look at him in confusion and ask for an explanation to Harry’s babble, but Remus only narrowed his eyes for a brief second then turned toward Snape, a look of pity dawning on his scarred face.

“Remus?” Harry asked confusion and then in accusation, “You knew? You knew about this?!” Harry pushed himself up again, onto his feet, his voice ringing with anger as he glared at Remus.

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall had turned toward the pair and at once Harry realized, as he noted the sad slump to the Headmaster’s eyes that the Headmaster had known too. Harry balled his hands into fists as he began to shake in rage. A small glass ball on Dumbledore’s desk started to tremble.

Remus grabbed both of Harry’s arms and said sharply, “Harry! Get a hold of yourself!” Harry’s breathing felt ragged and he wanted to scream until his voice became hoarse with the force of it, but Remus held firmly to the boy and as Harry stared into Remus’ caring brown eyes, he slowly began to relax. When Harry was still, Remus released his grip.

Harry bit his lip to stop the quiver and asked him quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Remus sighed. “There was no reason to tell you,” he told Harry wearily. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“You could have told me my mum was married to Snape.”

Remus’ mouth fell open. “Married?” he echoed and now it was Harry’s turn to stare at the werewolf in confusion. Remus however, turned swiftly again to stare at Snape.

“How could you not know that?” Harry demanded of his friend.

“Enough.” Snape had finally risen from the chair and though his face was ashen, his voice was steady, though it was lacking its usual venom.

But Harry was not going to back down so easily. There were more questions now than answers. “Just how many lies have there been?” he demanded, to the room in general this time. “How many?” His voice was harsh and all but Snape were looking at him.

With a vicious snarl, Snape moved toward the door.

“Stay, if you would, Severus,” came the Headmaster’s calm request.

Snape whirled back on Dumbledore. “I will not discuss this further, Albus.,” he told the Headmaster, his fists clenched at his sides.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly before saying simply. “You will stay.”

Snape’s jaw clenched and Harry took an involuntary step back at the dangerous look in Snape’s eyes. The Headmaster however was unmoved and he held Snape’s gaze until Snape growled and glided over to the fireplace, his movements rife with resentment.

“Minerva, if you would excuse us, please?” McGonagall pursed her lips and Harry was glad Dumbledore had not asked Remus to leave as well, as he didn’t want another thing to argue with the Headmaster about.

McGonagall left without a word. Once the door had closed quietly behind her, Dumbledore turned back to Harry.

“I will try to explain and I want your word, Harry that you will listen without interruption.”

“But,” Harry began, but the Headmaster shook his head.

“Your word, Harry,” Dumbledore insisted, leaving Harry no other recourse. Harry nodded once and waited as his stomach churned.

Dumbledore gazed at Snape’s back, the old wizard’s eyes sparkling with grief before turning back to Harry with a solemn look.

“You know, I believe, that your parents and Professor Snape were all in the same year, here at Hogwarts.” He allowed Harry to nod before continuing. “Your mother and Professor Snape were friends throughout all their years here. From what I understand, your mother accepted a date with James during their Seventh Year…it didn’t go well and your mother and Professor Snape became much closer soon after that. They were married a few years later. It had to remain a secret as they couldn’t risk Professor Snape’s parents discovering.”

Remus made a small, unintelligible noise at this, but Harry paid little attention as he chanced a glance at Snape and he thought he saw the Potions Master stiffen at the Headmaster’s words. With his brow furrowed in confusion, Harry focused again on what Dumbledore was saying.

“Voldemort had gained much support by this time and Professor Snape's father, Tobias, had already taken the Dark Mark. Tobias died before he was able to force his son to do the same. Professor Snape’s mother insisted that he take the Mark as his father had wished.” Dumbledore took a slight breath before he continued, “She knew Professor Snape was against it and that he was friends with Lily. She threatened to kill Lily if he did not obey.”

Remus and Harry sucked in twin breaths of horror. Dumbledore paused, again directing his gaze toward Snape. Snape’s face was cast in shadows as the light from the small fire in the hearth flickered darkly against his sallow skin. Harry felt a stab of sorrow for his Professor.

Blackmailed by his own mother….

“Professor Snape agreed, but only after he and Lily devised a Charm which they cast on Professor Snape before he took the Mark. Lily was trying to lessen Voldemort’s power over Professor Snape.” Harry opened his mouth to ask what exactly he meant, but the Headmaster shook his head lightly, reminding Harry of this promise not to interrupt so Harry dutifully closed his mouth again; he didn’t Dumbledore to stop talking.

“In truth, Professor Snape was acting as a spy for the Order. Right after he took the Mark, Professor Snape learned that Lily was expecting a baby…you, Harry.” Harry grimaced with the two conflicting memories from the past few days, the second still so harsh in his conscious that Harry flinched with a pain that he wasn’t sure was his own.

The Headmaster studied the wall for a long minute before finishing the tale, his voice sadder than Harry had ever heard it. “James agreed to act as Lily’s husband and as your father…James still cared very much for your mother. They told no one the truth, save the Healer who delivered you. Professor Snape, James and your mother lived in Professor Snape’s house for almost two years. Almost 15 months after you were born, your mother,” again a glance toward Snape, who still had not moved as far as Harry could tell, “…your mother informed Professor Snape that James was your father, not he.”

“She told me…she hadn’t been sure who your father was,” Remus said abruptly. “She and James, they-” he didn’t finish as he seemed to realize that Snape was still in the room with them. But he didn’t need to finish his thought; Harry got the idea.

“But Professor Dumbledore said that nobody else knew,” Harry said in confusion, wanting to banish certain images from his mind.

“Lily was….in some distress after Severus left. James thought I could help her. I figured out eventually that Lily was married to James for protection; I hadn’t realized until now that they weren’t actually married….”

Harry felt another pang of grief, this one for his mother. But his confusion outweighed that emotion by far so he put it aside hastily and asked Remus, “But, I don’t understand…wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell Sna-Professor Snape earlier,” he amended quickly, feeling an inexplicable need to show some measure of respect toward the man.

“Why bother with the whole charade, when she could have just told him before I was born?” he asked, his head cocked to the side as he tried to puzzle it out. Harry waited for Remus to answer.

Remus’ lips trembled as he finally spoke, his voice clogged with pain. “Because she loved him,” he said simply.

Harry jumped as a hand slapped down harshly on brick. He whirled to see Snape, his eyes dancing with fury, facing the other three wizards in the room.

“Enough of this!” Snape roared, his voice shaking with unsuppressed rage. Dumbledore opened his mouth but Snape cut him off with another roar, “No, Albus! No, I will not relive this. He is not my son. None of this matters, do you hear me? None of this!” He punctuated his words as his hand slammed into one of Dumbledore’s chairs and the chair was flung to the floor with a resounding clatter.

Harry cringed backward and he barely noticed as Remus pulled him slightly behind his body, using it as a shield against whatever Remus though Snape capable of.

At Remus’ gesture, Snape snarled, the sound so feral it was frightening. Before Harry could register how he’d left, Snape was gone. Harry stared at the spot in front of the fireplace where he’d been.

Silence reigned in Dumbledore’s office and Harry pulled himself out from behind Remus, feeling rather foolish for standing behind his friend like a coward. Remus shifted in front of him, allowing Harry to step to the side and away from him. Harry wrapped his arms around his middle as though a sudden draft had chilled the room. Remus and Dumbledore were both watching him in considerable concern.

Harry sighed.

“I’m fine,” he said wearily.

Remus looked doubtful but he nodded, giving Harry the space he needed. With a slight frown, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Harry. But, there didn’t seem to be any point…just as Professor Snape said,”

Even though it seemed that Harry should be angry with Remus, or at least a bit annoyed, he couldn’t be. The man had a point. Nothing had been gained from any part of this wretched evening. So, he nodded at his friend, which earned him a sad smile.

“Harry, I think you should get some sleep. It’s late,” Remus said mildly and Harry nodded; sleep sounded wonderful.

“Good night, then,” Harry said tiredly, addressing both wizards.

“Good night, my boy.”

“Good night, Harry.”

And for the second time in as many nights, Harry allowed Dumbledore’s stairs to spin him back to the castle’s main level.

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

Harry sat on his bed, long after the other Sixth Year boys had gone to sleep, staring morosely at his Pensieve.

It was over, done with. Harry didn’t have any extra lies ‘mucking up his life’, so why then did he feel so churned up inside?

Had he been hoping, even with the awfulness that would come with it, that Snape would claim him as his son? But, Harry couldn’t believe that was it, not really. Harry wasn’t quite satisfied though, as if there was still something that didn’t fit. And, then as Harry stared at the Pensieve, Hermione’s words came back at him

“A Pensieve can hold more than one memory.”

That was it! The Pensieve. That’s what didn’t make sense after everything that had happened in Dumbledore’s office. Who had put that memory in the Pensieve and why that specific memory, if it had been nothing but a lie?

Unless…Harry thought with a jolt of excitement, there were more memories in the Pensieve, just as Hermione had said. Memories that would explain everything. Dumbledore had promised he would do as much, but he hadn’t at all. Something just didn’t feel right.

Making as little noise as he could, so as not to wake his friends, Harry stood and took the two steps over to the Pensieve. Wishing briefly that Ginny were here again so he wouldn’t have to do this alone, Harry peered into the Pensieve’s silvery-white memories and was pulled downward, through a wall of ice and came out the other side, in a bright parlor, with a crackling fire.

Harry wondered briefly why he hadn’t gone back to St. Mungo’s. Maybe the Pensieve could tell where he’d left off? He’d have to ask Hermione in the morning, he mused pointlessly.

Harry looked around the room. It was empty. But, a second later James Potter walked in, his arms full of toddler. Harry’s throat constricted. This must be it then, he thought. James was his dad.

“James?” a woman’s voice called from somewhere else in the house. James plucked a half-chewed biscuit from little Harry’s hand before turning slightly toward the sound.

“We’re in the parlor!” he called out, then yelped out in protest as Harry yanked a fistful of James’ hair, in retribution it seemed for James’ acquisition of the boy’s biscuit.

Sixteen-year old Harry grinned in delight at his younger self’s antics and the disgruntled look on his dad’s face.

“No, no, Harry. Mustn’t pull James’ hair,” he told the little boy, who in turn made a swipe at his biscuit with a whine.

Lily walked in as James was trying unsuccessfully to pull the biscuit from Harry’s grasp, her arms laden down with books. With a sigh, she set the books down on a table and grabbed her wand and with a quick motion, the biscuit vanished completely, setting off an ear-splitting wail from little Harry. His older self winced at the sound.

“Honestly, James,” Lily said impatiently, sounding to Harry’s ears exactly like Hermione and Harry had to grin. “Biscuits right before dinner, indeed!”

James shrugged sheepishly and began tossing the toddler in his arms, up into the air and little Harry began to squeal in delight, forgetting all about his vanished biscuit.

“James! Stop that this instant.” Harry started at the deep voice. Harry turned again, this time to see Snape striding into the room, a frown on his face.

James grinned at him, and caught little Harry in his arms. The toddler looked about to cry again but then he caught sight of Snape and his little face split into a wide grin.

“Daddy!” he cried and Snape sent a reproachful to look to Lily, who was smiling innocently at him. “Daddy!” the little boy called again and began wiggling for James to let him down. James complied and with a toddler’s unsteady steps, Harry hurried to Snape. Snape bent slightly and scooped the boy into his arms when Harry stopped to reach toward him.

Harry had stilled as soon as he heard his younger self calling Snape ‘daddy’. He watched in fascination as Snape planted a kiss on little Harry’s forehead. The little boy reached a grubby hand to pat the older man’s cheek and Snape smiled a little, the expression so startling to Harry that he sucked in a breath as he watched the scene.

Snape pulled the little boy slightly from his body and said, “Father. Say Father, Harry.”

“Daddy,” the little boy insisted and tugged at Snape’s hair. Snape sighed and shifted the boy slightly in his arms. He turned to Lily but Lily laughed, the sound tinkling merrily in the room.

“Just accept it, Sev. You’re Daddy.” Snape made a sort of grumpy harrumph but then ruffled little Harry’s messy hair, in a way that Harry could only call indulgent.

“Come along, Harry. Dinner is ready.” Snape turned and with Harry’s arms wrapped firmly around Snape’s neck, they walked from the room, with Lily and James following closely behind.

The scene shifted abruptly and Harry blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the new shadowy room he was now standing in. It seemed to be a dingy pub of some sort. The smoke was thick in the room, the smell of Firewhisky so pungent that it made Harry wrinkle his nose in disgust.

He looked around, trying to find Lily, who he assumed must be here somewhere. She was.

Lily was sitting with James at a small, round wooden table, her face pale and drawn. Her hands were twitching in unexpected nervousness on the tabletop in front of her. James reached out a hand and put it gently atop Lily’s. He gave it a gentle squeeze and Lily smiled at him gratefully.

Harry moved closer toward the table. This must be it, he decided. His mum was going to tell his dad about Harry. Harry wasn’t prepared then as a tall, well dressed woman appeared opposite Lily and James. Harry looked up at her; her face was drawn back in a somehow prim scowl.

“I asked you to come alone, Ms. Evans.”

“Just tell us what you want,” James growled at her and Harry was startled by the venom in his father’s voice.

The woman narrowed her eyes and when she did, Harry did a double take. She looked like Snape. This had to be Snape’s mother. Harry felt his face heating with anger at her.

“Very well,” Snape’s mother said coolly and perched herself on the only other chair at the table.

“I know you are bound to my son. And that he is the father of your bastard son.”

James’ face convulsed in anger beside Lily. “How dare you?” he whispered angrily, presumably not wanting to arouse the attention of the other patrons in the pub.

Snape’s mother looked at him askance before turning back to Lily. “I have plans for my son, Ms. Evans. And they do not include a Mudblood marriage.” James clenched his fists, his face again contorting in rage, but Lily reached a hand to still his movements before he could speak. She looked at Snape’s mother steadily though her eyes were filled with pain.

“Severus has his own plans,” Lily said evenly.

Snape’s mother arched her thin eyebrow. “My son must break ties with you immediately,” she said, her eyes burning into Lily’s.

“He will not,” Lily told her firmly.

“Then, you will leave him, Ms. Evans…or your son and husband will die.” She said the words without heat, but they left no room for doubt.

She would kill her own son? Harry’s head spun at her words.

“If you harm one hair on Harry’s head, I-”

“You will do nothing, coward,” Snape’s mother spat at James and then said with intensity to Lily, “You will tell my son that the boy is not his, that you do not love him. I know my son and you are right, he will not leave…unless you tell him to.”

Snape’s mother stood abruptly. “You have three days, Ms. Evans. If Severus does not leave, I will kill them both.”

As James jumped up from his seat, all thoughts of discretion gone as he made a move to grab the hateful woman, she turned on the spot and was gone. With an anguished sob, Lily grabbed James’ arm, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Harry watched with an aching heart as James sat heavily back into his seat and pulled Lily to him, letting her cry brokenly into his chest.

1996

Severus had nearly flown from the room, leaving Dumbledore’s office without a backward glace. The Headmaster’s enchanted staircase seemed to understand Severus’ need for escape as it spun him in less than a minute back to the ground floor.

The Potions Master stormed through the dark labyrinthine passageways that sloped down toward his dungeon sanctuary, each footstep puncturing the silence forcefully. Severus briefly wished that one of his Slytherins would be wandering about so that he could unleash his rising fury. But the corridors were ruthlessly empty and Severus completed the quick journey to his quarters uninterrupted.

Severus stopped in front of a blank stone wall and pressed his fingertips to one of the ragged stones. A door melted into the wall and opened for him. Severus stepped inside his quarters and the door slammed shut, sensing his mood. With a harsh growl, Severus swung his robes off his shoulders and with a sharp motion from Severus’ hand, the black robes flew onto a peg next to the door.

How dare Albus go on like that, Severus fumed as, with jerky movements, he poured himself a drink from the flask near the Floo. In one swift movement, Severus had downed the entire glass of Firewhisky and he grimaced in satisfaction as the liquid scorched its way down his throat.

Potter and Lupin, especially Lupin, hadn’t needed to know his personal affairs. They hadn’t needed to hear how James Potter had betrayed him 15 years ago. Even after all this time, Severus could find no bile in his heart for Lily. This was Potter’s doing; he was sure the vindictive Gryffindor had seduced his wife…His Lily.

Severus allowed his grief to the front of his mind as a vision of Lily all those years ago filled him; Lily had stared at him with such pain in her beautiful face. Severus hadn’t even felt anger that night as he stared at her, the truth of her words thrashing inside him. He had only stared and then had turned, as if in a daze and walked through the hallways, finding his way somehow into the parlor where Harry had been playing with the house-elf.

The boy had looked up at him, his face lit with a smile and he’d shouted, “Daddy!” as he scrambled toward Severus.

Severus had backed up a step as a sob rose unrecognizable into his throat and he’d stumbled blindly toward the fireplace, haphazardly throwing Floo Powder down as he went. As Severus gasped out a destination, he had glimpsed Lily with her arms around a screaming Harry, trying to console the child who was supposed to be his son.

The delicate glass in Severus’ hand shattered suddenly with the force of the man’s grip. The Potions Master grimaced slightly as the tiny shards of glass pierced his palm. With a vicious wave of his wand, he banished the pieces and with another, healed the cuts.

The momentary pain had brought Severus back to himself and with practiced ease, he began placing each memory of the past into the unreachable parts of his mind. Before he could finish the familiar exercise, Severus was distracted as the Floo fired up and Albus stuck his head through.

“May I come through, dear boy?” Albus asked with a gentle smile.

“No.”

The blue eyes registered surprise but in the next moment they, with the Headmaster attached stepped out into his dungeon quarters anyway. Severus glared at him as Albus rearranged his bright purple robes around him as he sat, unasked, in one of Severus’ chairs.

“It was my impression, Albus that other staff members did not intrude on others’ private space, without an invitation,” Severus said icily.

Dumbledore gazed at him. “Impressions can be misleading, my boy.”

“Much as Headmasters can be officious?” Severus asked with a sneer.

“Much the same, yes,” Albus answered with a polite nod. Severus clenched his jaw at the Headmaster’s cheerful snark and turned away.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

Severus finally broke the silence. “You had no right,” he said, pushing deep to keep the tremor from his voice.

“I couldn’t let Harry leave without an explanation,” Albus told him calmly. Severus whirled on him, glaring down at the old man.

“It was nothing to do with him. He-”

Albus chuckled. “Nothing to do with him, Severus?” he asked, his tone suffused with humor.

“There was nothing to be gained from revealing my personal business, Albus. James Potter is still his father.”

“Is he, Severus?” Albus watched him carefully.

“Of course he is!” Severus snapped with impatience, not even bothering to consider the rhetorical question. What was the Headmaster playing at?

“How did Harry find out about you and Lily?” Albus asked casually after another moment.

Severus narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “I am not playing your games, Albus.”

“A Pensieve?” Albus guessed and then rubbed his bearded chin in feigned rumination. “Who, I wonder, would create a Pensieved memory of a lie?”

Caught off guard, Severus gaped at him. He had been too tangled up in his own anger and grief to question the memories origins.

“Where did Harry get the Pensieve?” Dumbledore suddenly asked, his eyes intense as he leaned forward to stare at Severus.

“Gringotts” Severus answered automatically.

Dumbledore sat back. “I see,” he said, a satisfied look on his face.

Severus’ temper flared again. What did Albus think he was doing? “You do not see anything, Albus. There is nothing to see.” He fixed Albus with a steely glare. “I will not tolerate any more of your meddling.”

But, infuriatingly, the Headmaster acted as though he had not heard the clearly threatening note in Severus’ voice. “There is a way to be sure, of course,” Albus mused, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

“No.”

Albus simply raised his eyebrows.

“Surely it is best to know the truth, Severus?” Albus asked innocently.

“I know the truth. Lily would not lie to me about something such as this.”

“Indeed. Excepting the first time she lied to you about it, of course.”

Severus stiffened as he forced himself not to grab the Headmaster and shake him violently. “How dare you impugn Lily?” he demanded, trying to keep his voice level. He barely succeeded.

Albus was gazing at him in frank wonder. “Still, after all these years, you harbor no anger toward Lily?” Severus did not answer. “You love her,” Albus stated plainly

Severus turned away from the Headmaster. “Leave me.” He had meant to sound belligerent, but it came out instead beseeching, and Severus cursed himself for his weakness.

Dumbledore went right on, ignoring Severus’ plea, “If Harry were your son, would you find love for him as well, Severus?”

“Get out.”

The menace in the Potions Master’s voice was unmistakable this time and Dumbledore, with a weary sigh, stood. Dumbledore had his answer; there was no need to torture his young friend any further. Besides, the Headmaster had a potion to prepare.

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

Harry watched his mum and James, clutching at one another, until the scene dissolved and Harry felt himself floating upward as if her were being dragged by an invisible anchor and he found himself again in Gryffindor tower, listening to the steady snoring of his bunkmates.

There were no violent impulses this time, fighting their way to the surface for release. Harry felt strangely calm…at ease. Of course, there was a vague notion in there somewhere that it would not be as simple as all that…to be Snape’s son. He wasn’t even sure he wanted any such thing.

But it really didn’t matter, Harry decided as he sat there. He had seen the depth of love his mum had for Snape and he knew in his heart that she would want this. She had, after all presumably placed those memories in the Pensieve so that someday Harry might someday know the truth.

Everything made sense now…those feelings of dread he had had after seeing James and his mum in Snape’s Pensieve last year. It had seemed wrong. But this, this idea that Snape and his mum had loved each other, no matter how bizarre it might sound to anyone else, it was just right.

And there was something else beginning to clog up Harry’s chest as he pushed himself up onto his bed, letting his legs dangle over the side. He had been loved, as well, by both of them.

Harry wasn’t daft enough to believe that Snape was about to run up to him with some declaration of a father’s love, in fact the very idea made Harry shudder a little. But Harry was certain that the Potions Master had loved him once, all those years ago.

Maybe, with enough time and very careful steps, maybe Snape could feel something less than hatred for him…maybe. Harry reached a hand to rub his throbbing head, trying to soothe the headache that had been pounding steadily all night and as he massaged his temple lightly, his fingers smoothed over his scar. He stilled.

Voldemort.

All at once, Harry felt as if he was a piece of Drooble’s Best Chewing Gum, popped unceremoniously and deflated. Harry realized now, of course, that Snape was not working for Voldemort, as Harry had suggested to Dumbledore last year, but the Potions Master was still supposed to be acting as spy for the snake-like bastard.

Even if Snape eventually wanted to, he couldn’t claim Harry as his son, could he? Not while Voldemort was alive. Harry groaned and rolled over fully onto his bed and curled his face up against his cool pillow. Well, he decided determinedly as he punched his pillow down to get comfortable, somehow he would solve this. He owed it to his mother, after all.

Harry yawned, as exhaustion finally caught up with him. He would go over all of it with Hermione in the morning, and maybe he’d even make another trip to Dumbledore’s office. Snape’s pain had seemed to bother the Headmaster greatly; surely he would be eager to help Harry. Harry was hesitant to trust the old wizard, but he was determined to do this for his mum.

Harry smiled into his pillow and let his mind wander back to the memory of Snape ruffling his toddler self’s hair affectionately. The image inexplicably warmed him and Harry drifted into a more peaceful sleep than he had experienced in almost a week.

Harry was jolted awake, hours later by a loud thump near his head. He peeled his eyes open groggily, trying to see through the darkness. Ron’s face was much too close, illuminated suddenly by the tip of Ron’s wand.

“Sorry,” Ron said sheepishly as Harry moved hastily backwards, until he bumped into his headboard.

“What are you doing, Ron?” Harry groused, rubbing at his head. Ron straightened, chanting “Nox,” as he did so. Harry struggled to adjust to the absence of light again. He felt his bed shifting slightly and he pulled his legs out of the way before Ron could sit on them. “Well?” he demanded, completely agitated at having been woken up.

“I was downstairs with Hermione,” Ron said in a rush. Harry stared at the spot where he figured Ron’s face had to be.

“Why?” he asked stupidly.

The bed shifted again. “Hermione had an idea…about the Pensieve. But, she didn’t want to wake you up.” Ron’s disgust was obvious and Harry laughed.

“So you woke me up instead?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Ron told him in an indignant whisper. Harry’s covers rustled. “Listen, Harry, I think Hermione’s really lost it this time. She made me promise to tell you, but….” He trailed off uncertainly and Harry shook his head. He’d told Ron and Hermione what had happened in Dumbledore’s office as soon as he’d returned and they had been frankly stunned; even Hermione had had nothing to offer. Though apparently, she hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

“Say a Lumos, will you? This is ridiculous.” Ron chanted the Charm quickly and Harry smiled at the subdued look on his friend’s face.

“It’s all right, Ron. I figured it out on my own. I went back into the Pensieve and it’s all sorted out…Snape’s my father.”

Ron gaped at him. “How?” Harry explained briefly and when he’d finished, Ron was nodding thoughtfully. “It just didn’t make sense,” Ron mused.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, appreciating his friend’s support. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned his tacit plans to make Snape see the truth. Harry plucked at his blanket nervously for a minute, remembering fourth year when Ron had ignored him for all those weeks and thought maybe it would be better not to tell the redhead. But, Harry didn’t want to underestimate his friend, so he took a breath and said quickly. “I’m going to tell him.”

Ron, after a beat, nodded. “Your mum would like that,” he said quietly and Harry grinned.

“Thanks, Ron.”

Ron nodded again and slid off Harry’s bed. “Better get to sleep, mate.” He chanted another “Nox,” and the room slipped into black again. Harry listened as Ron padded over to his own bed and hopped up.

“Night,” Harry told him, rolling back over to his side.

“Night, Harry.”

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

Ron and Harry met an extremely agitated Hermione, accompanied by a calmer Ginny the next morning as they made their slow way to the common room. Hermione turned abruptly to Ron.

“Did you tell him?” she asked tersely.

“Hermione,” Harry interjected before Ron could frame a reply. “I figured it out myself last night.”

Hermione looked at Harry in surprise, but then she brushed aside a few strands of stray hair, asking, “And?” very impatiently.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll explain on the way to breakfast,” and he turned. Ron and Ginny followed him while Hermione huffed in frustration before falling in step as well. As they made their way to the Great Hall, Harry explained. His news, especially the part about making sure Snape knew the truth had both girls practically giddy with excitement.

Hermione, it proved, was absolutely useless for ideas on what to do about the ‘Voldemort situation’ as Ron termed it.

Harry tried to shrug it off though as he spotted Dumbledore seated at the head table. Snape was missing, Harry noticed as well. The man was probably still livid about last night. Harry grimaced at the thought. How was he supposed to tell him anything if Snape was going to go about breaking furniture and disappearing into thin air? Harry groaned loudly and buried his face in his elbow. This was going to be impossible.

Harry raised his head again as the Owl Post arrived and Harry looked up automatically for Hedwig, as he always did. With a jolt of surprise, he spotted his snowy white friend among the other owls and watched as she glided toward him.

Hedwig landed gracefully in front of his plate and Harry plucked a smooth envelope from her beak. Hedwig hooted happily at him. Harry stroked her white fur and in return, Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately. Then, she snatched up a bit of Harry’s bacon from his plate before hooting once again and taking to the air

Harry tore the envelope open eagerly and unfolded the parchment. Harry closed his eyes briefly after he’d read the short missive. Dumbledore again! For the third day in a row, the Headmaster was summoning him to his office.

Harry looked up at the head table again. Dumbledore was staring right at him. As Harry caught his eye, the Headmaster winked. Damn the man. How had he known Harry would want to see him today? Harry nodded briefly at Dumbledore, then turned away again, shaking his head resignedly.

Harry only realized after he’d crumpled Dumbledore’s letter that he had Potions after lunch. His gut rippled in nervous anticipation as he thought about it. He had no idea how to act around the Professor. Snape was sure to be as irascible as ever and Harry felt the familiar tug of resentment toward him. He couldn’t help it and Harry wondered if he’d ever be able to get past his learned dislike of Snape.

With a sigh, Harry stood with his friends as they began to gather their bags. He waved to Ginny as she joined the other fifth years and then he followed Hermione and Ron toward the Transfiguration classroom.

Harry noted the assessing look McGonagall favored him with and he tried to give her a reassuring smile. McGonagall raised her eyebrow a fraction before turning her attention to the start of class.

Thankfully, the class went by swiftly and afterwards Harry and Ron spent lunch talking Quidditch with Dean and Seamus, while Hermione practically did a re-enactment of Transfiguration class for a less than captive Neville.

It was with a rapidly beating heart that Harry made his way to the dungeons after lunch. His barely eaten sandwich gurgled unhappily in his stomach as he sat at the same table he had shared with Malfoy two days before; he didn’t want to begin class with Snape snapping at him to ‘use his brain for once’ followed by a snapped demand that he move.

Malfoy came in while Harry was arranging his Potions supplies. The Slytherin didn’t register any surprise at finding Harry at Malfoy’s usual table. He sat without a word and began taking out his own ingredients. Harry sneaked a quick look around the classroom; everyone else it seemed, had had the same idea as they were all paired up according to the new partnering system.

Harry fidgeted in his seat after he’d put out all of his supplies and he winced as he heard the classroom door slam open with a resounding thud. Damn. Snape’s mood had obviously not improved since last night.

“Silence,” Snape barked as he thundered toward the front of the classroom. When he reached his destination, Snape pivoted on his heel, his black robes swirling in an angry arc behind him. As the fabric settled gracefully around his legs, he narrowed his eyes and glared around the classroom.

“You will find today’s Potion on page 154. You will complete the Potion in silence. Begin,” he commanded and with a rustle of parchment and some scraping of stools, the students complied.

Great, Harry thought, annoyed. Just how were he and Malfoy supposed to make a Potion together without even talking? Hermione, it seemed had the same question as she was whispering out the side of her mouth at Nott, who was staring straight ahead, pretending not to hear her.

“I said silence, Miss Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor.” Snape’s harsh voice echoed off the dungeon walls and Harry glanced back at Hermione, who was now staring down at her Potions book, presumably trying not to cry. Harry clenched his jaw in anger and tried to stifle it as he found the right page in his book.

Malfoy had already found the correct page. He had lit a fire under his cauldron and was slicing an eel’s heart into neat quarter inch pieces. He put the bits into the cauldron and turned to Harry, his eyes raised expectantly. Harry stared at him.

Malfoy’s eyes flashed downward, toward his book and then back up to Harry. Harry wanted to laugh. Malfoy was planning to mime his way through the assignment? Well, at least that way, Harry concluding, he wouldn’t lose any points, so he quickly read the second ingredient listed and set to work measuring out a spoonful of powdered Toenail of Sheep.

Harry didn’t hear one more word from any of the students. In fact, for the next two hours, the classroom was devoid of almost any noise, save the chopping and slicing of various Potions ingredients. Harry was therefore startled when Snape’s voice cracked against the silence like a whip as he and Malfoy were finishing their potion.

“Dreadful, Weasley.” When Parkinson blinked up at Snape in confusion, he continued in a haughty voice. “Ten points to Miss Parkinson for having to put up with your idiocy.”

The sharp intake of breath from the other Gryffindors had the Potions Master saying casually, “I believe I asked for silence. Another ten points from Gryffindor seems to be in order.” Harry wanted to throttle the man. He glared at him as Snape glided over to he and Malfoy’s table. Snape ignored Harry completely and turned to Malfoy expectantly.

“I trust you were able to make a decent Potion, Mr. Malfoy, in spite of whatever interference Mr. Potter may have created?” Harry’s hands began to quiver in rising anger at Snape’s attack.

Malfoy had the gall to nod smartly at Snape’s question.

“Excellent, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape approved and he put his nose toward Malfoy’s cauldron. Harry wished he could shove Snape’s sneering face into the boiling liquid. Snape sniffed the Potion before announcing, “Twenty points to Slytherin.”

And then, with a piercing glance at Harry, he said, “And, twenty points from Gryffindor for your interference.”

Harry understood immediately that Snape wasn’t referring to today’s Potion at all.

“That’s not fair!” Parvati Patil’s voice rang out indignantly. Snape turned smoothly toward her.

“Fair, Miss Patil? Oh, I believe Mr. Potter is quite adequately acquainted with life’s inequities. And that will be another 10 points from Gryffindor for ignoring my instructions.”

Parvati spluttered but lapsed into silence. The man was unbelievable, Harry fumed, but Snape wasn’t finished.

“Fifty points in one class session…even for Gryffindor, that is quite a feat,” the Potions Master drawled. “I suppose for you though, Potter, it was merely a desire to follow your father’s shining example.”

Harry finally snapped and he said recklessly, “I don’t think my father is ready to be an example to anyone…not yet.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“Class Dismissed,” he snapped out. Harry rose. “Sit, Potter,” Snape spat and then after watching to make sure all the students had left the classroom, Snape used his wand to slam the door shut. He whirled toward Harry and slapping his hands abruptly onto Harry’s table, he leaned toward the boy menacingly so that they were nose to nose. Harry didn’t move away.

“I did not realize even you were incapable of logical reasoning, Potter, so let me put it in words you can understand. You saw a memory of a lie. I am not your father. And, you will not allude to such a thing again, not to me…not to anyone. Do you understand?” Snape’s voice had started out levelly and then risen at the end so that the man was very nearly screeching into Harry’s face.

This is it, Harry decided and steadied himself as Snape continued to breathe in his face as he waited, the scent of cloves heavy on the man’s breath.

“Ah. I’ve found the two of you together…wonderful.” Snape and Harry snapped their heads around. Dumbledore was rocking on his heels, his hands folded sedately in front of him, smiling serenely.

Much as if he were one of Fred and George’s fireworks, Snape shot up from where he was bent over Harry’s desk to glare at the Headmaster.

“What do you want, Albus?” he bit out and Harry almost smiled at the way Snape was clenching his jaw. Well, he knew where he had gotten his temper from anyway.

“I think it might be best to have this issue settled before I leave,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

“Where are you going?” Harry blurted out without thinking.

Dumbledore turned his smile on Harry, his eyes twinkling. “I have some business to take care of, my boy.” Harry tilted his head, his mind already beginning to turn over the many scenarios, which might take the Headmaster away from the castle. All of them involved Voldemort.

“As I will not be back for some time,” Dumbledore continued, “It would put my mind at ease if I knew there were no more questions.” He held up a flask of something that looked like bluish-grey water and shook it gently.

Snape folded his arms across his chest. “I will not contribute,” he growled.

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously and Snape shot him a disgusted glare.

“Filial Potion,” Dumbledore answered before Snape could belittle Harry for knowing less than a fourth year.

“Like a Muggle paternity test,” Harry concluded and Dumbledore nodded while Snape sneered at the inexact parallel. “What do we need to do?” Harry asked, thinking it would probably be easier than having to share the Pensieve memories with the Potions Master.

The Headmaster smiled. “All things in order, Harry. Didn’t you have something to say to Professor Snape first?” Harry scowled at the Headmaster.

How did he do that? But, since he did have something to say and since Dumbledore was not likely to tell him any more about the Filial Potion until he did so, Harry nodded, feeling all of sudden, lightheaded.

“I-I went back into the Pensieve last night. There were…more memories,” he stammered. Harry was staring intensely at Snape as he spoke and he thought he saw something spark in the dark eyes, but then they were unreadable black again and Harry looked away.

“Yes, Harry?” The Headmaster asked gently.

Harry swallowed. “There was a woman…in a pub, I think. She was talking to my mum and James. She was threatening my mum.”

Snape grew very still. Harry looked up again. Snape was staring at him, his face filled with some emotion that Harry didn’t recognize. Harry held his gaze, trying to find a way to make Snape see what he had seen in the Pensieve.

Harry brought the memories from last night to the front of his mind and he focused on the images as his gaze continued to bore into Snape’s. Harry became slowly aware of other memories, other images that he at once recognized as Snape’s. All the images began to twist and flow together and as they began to sharpen in their intensity, Harry was no longer able to separate Snape’s thoughts from his own.

Lily’s eyes filled with love. Severus rumpling Harry’s hair. Lily clutching Harry as Snape Flooed away. Lily sobbing into James’ chest. Severus slumped on the floor, an upturned picture by his feet. Eileen in the pub.

“I will kill them both.”

“No.” Snape growled as he pulled himself from Harry’s thoughts. Harry stumbled into Dumbledore, staring at the Potions Master, his eyes wide.

Then in deepest rage, Snape began to tremble. There was such hatred, such loathing in his face as he stared at Harry that both Harry and Dumbledore cringed with the force of it. With a murderous roar, Snape flung himself into his classroom Floo and screamed in course fury as he pelted the fireplace with Floo Powder and then the great green flames swallowed him up.

Harry stared at the place where Snape had been as the flames died down again. Rejection washed through him as he slumped against the Headmaster.

1981

The Floo Network spit Severus out unceremoniously onto the hard stone floor of his small cottage, which Albus had created as a safe house for his family. Severus staggered toward a chair, but he stumbled and was forced to grasp clumsily at a small table and his fingers found unsteady purchase with a silver frame.

But his trembling fingers slipped and the frame tumbled to the floor; Severus barely heard the tinkling of the glass as it shattered and not having enough strength to make it to the nearby chair, Severus collapsed in a great black heap on the floor, his legs splaying out in front of him.

Severus’ chest heaved as he sat on the floor. He was beyond trying to control himself, beyond even attempting Occlusion to bring some measure of relief. Harry was not his son. Lily had slept with James.

Severus’ mind was racing with confusion and he desperately tried to find some sense in all the confliction, tried to bring order to the chaos but it was no use. Severus could not take this pain and neatly put it away, pretending none of it had happened. His life was a lie; he had lost his son…his wife…his family.

James—Potter, Potter had ripped his life from him. And in a surge of fury, Severus screamed and the sound pierced the still air. Potter had stolen his wife, his son…every reason Severus had for living. Severus clenched his fists until his fingernails drew blood from his calloused palms and he vowed that the next time he saw James Potter, he would kill him. As slowly and painfully as was possible.

The Gryffindor had seduced his wife…his Lily. He could not blame Lily for this. Severus had always known he was unworthy of her, just as he had been unworthy of his parents as a child. As Severus sat on the hard, cold floor shaking with anguished rage, he had to concede that even in his shock, he had always been expecting Lily to find someone better; in fact Severus had been waiting for it.

Lily could not help it, he knew. Every day that Severus had been with her, he was freshly astonished that she still wanted to be with him. He had never, never been good enough for Lily Evans. The self-loathing that had been ever present since his childhood, had abated a bit over the years as Lily had shown Severus that he was more than the worthless child his parents had claimed him to be.

But now, the self hatred came rushing back to Severus and he thought of Lily again, her beautiful face, her fiery, gentle soul…even Lily…dear Lily, so full of love herself, could not love him. Because Severus knew he was in fact, unlovable.

“Harry….”

Severus’ grief consumed him as he thought of the little boy, with his mop of raven hair. From the beginning, Harry had looked like James. He and Lily had designed it that way, weaving a complex Charm full of Potter’s genetic signature with Harry’s so that they could keep their secret.

With a wash of bitterness, Severus realized that even that had been a lie. The way Harry looked now was most likely pretty close to how the boy really would look without the Charm…as James Potter’s son.

Severus remembered how pleased he’d been, each time he’d looked at Harry, that he and Lily had left Harry’s eyes strictly alone. For every time he’d gazed into those deep emerald orbs, he saw Lily. A low, tormented moan escaped Severus’ lips as he realized he would never see either pair of eyes again.

Oh, he knew Albus would come and plead with him to continue his work with the Order and as a spy for Voldemort because though it hadn’t been planned that way, Severus had turned out to be quite valuable for the cause of the Light. But, Severus didn’t care anymore and he couldn’t bear to face Lily again, regardless.

He could stay here, in this cottage protected fully with the Fidelius Charm. He need never venture outside its walls again. Severus could stay until he died or until somehow Voldemort found him to seek retribution for Severus’ intended defection.

The thought of death by torture of the Cruciatus Curse soothed Severus and for brief seconds, he relished in thoughts of a plan to bring Voldemort to him, but he banished the plan quickly as he realized that such extended torture would almost certainly break his mind and Severus would not allow harm to come to Lily…nor to Harry.

But Harry was no longer his to protect. Severus would never again hold the small child in his arms, would never feel the sticky kiss that Harry had so often favored him with, and with a foul surge of grief, he realized too that he would never again hear Harry call him ‘daddy’. He was nobody’s father, nobody’s husband. Severus Snape was utterly alone.

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1996

Severus watched the sitting room flashing past as he was rushed through the Floo Network; his anger stoking ever greater with each new room. When he spotted the correct parlor, Severus flung himself forward, before the Network had a chance, and he found himself standing almost instantly on a polished stone floor.

An old house-elf popped into existence in front of him, but he paid only enough attention to the little creature to demand, “Where is my mother?” The house-elf stared at Severus with wide eyes. Severus growled and grabbed the little elf by the front of his crisp tea towel. “Where?” he raged, shaking Schminge furiously.

The house-elf trembled. “Mistress is in the library, Master Severus!” Severus shoved Schminge away abruptly and Schminge tumbled to the floor as he stormed toward the staircase. He yanked his wand from the sleeve of his robe and brandished it in front of him as he stomped quickly upward, his fury growing as each step brought him closer to his mother.

At the top of the stairs, Severus took a curt left and crashed through the library’s old wooden door. His mother, her back to him, turned at the sound, her mouth forming an ‘O’ of surprise as she saw her son, framed in the doorway.

“Severus! What a surprise-”

Eileen’s mouth snapped closed and she took several quick steps backward as Severus advanced on her, his wand snapping up, to halt only inches from her face.

“You,” he said in his most deadly voice, “will tell me the truth or I will kill you where you stand.”

Eileen drew herself back by centimeters and narrowed her eyes. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded tersely.

Severus ignored her question; his entire body was trembling with an urge to utter ‘Crucio,’ as his mother glared at him. “Did you force Lily to tell me Harry was not my son?” Eileen dark eye’s registered surprise but then she smiled her thin-lipped smile, a vindictive smile on her wrinkled face.

With an apoplectic scream, Severus grasped his mother around her small bicep and yanked her toward him. Knowing exactly what her son was planning to do, Eileen turned her face away from Severus, trying to pull herself free of his grasp. With a snarl, Severus released her arm, only to snake his hand up her back and then grabbing a fistful of her graying hair, he forced his mother to look at him.

“Legilimens,” he whispered and he saw all of it.

Black and Lupin chatting in the Hog’s Head as Eileen sat at a nearby chair, her back erect as she took in every word. Eileen Apparating away as Potter tried to grab her. His mother whispering words of an overheard prophecy to the Death Eater, Goyle.

“Your Lord will be pleased with you for bringing him this information.”

“You!” Severus cried as he lurched away from Eileen, the words reverberating through their minds. Eileen, her face pale, tried to draw herself up haughtily but managed only to pull her head shakily away from her son.

“It was you. You killed Lily,” Severus whispered hoarsely, his eyes losing all focus as he stared at her.

“Your bastard child was supposed to die with his Mudblood mother. I should have killed all of you myself.”

Severus’ black eyes began to clear and darken as they churned with hate. He stood, in front of the woman who had devastated his family, destroyed him and Severus tried to gulp in shallow, grasping breaths of air as he looked at her.

The words were on his tongue; the unforgivable curse begged to be turned loose on the hate-filled, sneering face of his mother. But there was another face stopping him.

Harry.

All the grief and rage gathered in Severus, built up over fifteen years of pain. The despair filled every orifice of his heart as he thought of Harry, his little one-year old son clinging to him for another hug. And he saw Harry’s face again, matured over fifteen lost years, staring at him in confused rejection. Harry…his son, who had spared the other who had betrayed his mother, wouldn’t want him to do this

So, Severus directed all those years of pain, every ache he had endured toward Eileen and intoned, “Semper Desparo.”

Eileen gasped out and began to claw at the side of her head with her long fingernails. She used the other hand to clutch at her middle as she hunched over in agony. Great, racking sobs began to shake her delicate limbs and Severus watched his mother dispassionately as she experienced every grief-filled moment her son had ever had…anguish over Lily, despair at his lost fatherhood, bitterness at James’s betrayal, even the pain of abuse carried out by Tobias, and Eileen herself.

Pain was all Eileen would know now and Severus continued to watch until his mother crumpled to the floor, writhing in agony. Sickened, Severus turned on his heel and walked out of the library to find Schminge and Obliviate him.

1996

After Severus had taken care of the house-elf’s memory, he had listened from downstairs as a frantic Schminge found his Mistress convulsing on the library floor. He had allowed himself a small smile, as he heard Schminge apparating Eileen away with a loud crack, presumably to St. Mungo’s.

The thought of his mother spending the rest of her days in the care of the Healers was a distinctly pleasant one for Severus; he knew they would never find a way to reverse that particular curse. In fact, the Healers would not even be able to identify it, as it was Severus’ own creation.

After his mother and the house-elf had gone, Severus began to pace. Completely unfamiliar to him were the feelings of uncertainty coursing through him. Severus hadn’t felt anything like this in almost 15 years. He was not accustomed to not knowing what to do.

The boy he had left, staring at him, in the Potions classroom, was not James Potter’s son. Potter had not betrayed him. Lily…his precious Lily hadn’t found someone better. She had only been trying to protect Severus and her son. Their son. Not Potter’s son. His head began to spin with the reality of it; he had to sit down in one of his mother’s chairs before his legs gave out.

Severus could not grasp it. It was just too much. Damn his mother! Severus brought his fist furiously down on the arm of his chair. He could not do this. He would have no idea where to even begin. Perhaps he could act as though none of this had happened? But, would Severus be able to see the boy in his class twice a week and continue to simply glare and snap unfair punishments at him? But, it would be better for both of them that way…wouldn’t it?

The boy had obviously believed that all of Severus’ earlier rage had been directed at him. He clearly thought Severus did not want him; the feelings of rejection had been transparent in his eyes…Lily’s eyes. With a moan of grief, Severus brought his face down into his hands. He knew Lily would never forgive him if he chose this course.

But it is impossible, he wanted to plead with her.

Severus could not talk to the boy he’d left floundering in his classroom. The man cringed with the memory of Harry’s face when Severus had stepped into his classroom Floo. It had been like looking into a window from 15 years past, when he had stared in horror at little Harry as Severus Flooed away to his small cottage. With a jolt of surprise, Severus’ chest constricted. It was the same boy. Severus had known it of course, as soon as he’d seen Harry’s memories of Eileen’s treachery. But now…now, Severus saw it.

Potter was the same boy who had shared his half-chewed biscuits with Severus. He was the same boy who had laughed as he’d splashed Severus with sudsy bath water each night before bed. He was the same boy Severus had cradled in his arms only minutes after Lily had given birth. Severus was Harry’s father…he had always been Harry’s father, and Severus had spent 5 years hating his own son.

As Severus sat there in his mother’s house, he cursed Eileen, Peter Pettigrew and the creature called Voldemort. Harry would never forgive him. And Severus knew he didn’t deserve to be forgiven…not for this. And he knew too, as he sat there, his hands clenched together fitfully, that he could not even try. The Potions Master bowed his head and whispered, “Forgive me, Lily.” It was the best Severus could do.

He stood, with shaky legs, preparing to Floo back to Hogwarts. It would be four days before he had to see Harry again, if Severus took all his meals in his quarters. The thought relieved him, though the tightness in his chest remained as he reached for his mother’s glittery Floo Powder.

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

Dumbledore was standing by the Floo in Snape’s classroom, speaking quietly to Remus’ disembodied head. Harry was watching them, thinking he should probably just get up and explain things to Remus himself but he couldn’t work up the energy. He was exhausted; total and complete rejection would do that to a person.

Remus finally came all the way through the Floo and with a nod at the Headmaster, he came over to where Harry was sitting with his chin resting on his folded arms.

Before he could speak, Dumbledore’s voice floated over from next to the Floo. “Well, Harry, I must be off…now that everything is settled,” he said cheerfully.

Harry’s head jerked up. “Settled? Nothing’s been settled at all,” Harry objected.

Dumbledore just smiled. “You and Severus both know the truth.”

Harry glared at him. “And just how long have you known the truth, sir?” he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, surprise in his eyes. “Surely, Harry, you can’t believe I would keep something like this from Severus…or you?” Harry narrowed his green eyes. Dumbledore sounded so sincere, and Harry didn’t believe him for a minute.

“Did you keep it from us?” Harry insisted.

Dumbledore sighed. “Really, Harry,” he chastised the boy gently. When Harry folded his arms over his chest, Dumbledore shook his head again in resignation. “I’d best be off, then.” He turned toward the Floo but then turned back again abruptly, “Oh, Harry, I almost forgot…when you get a chance, do ask your father about Draco, would you, dear boy?”

His father? Harry stared at the Headmaster, and with his blue eyes twinkling, the old wizard stepped into the Floo, called for his office and went up in flames. Harry shook his head in confusion, trying to match the Headmaster’s words with the image of Snape, staring at him with those hate-filled eyes and just couldn’t. Merlin’s beard, what the hell had he done?

“Harry, all you all right?” Remus asked after a quiet minute. Remus had been asking that a lot lately. Harry looked up at his friend, half expecting to be reprimanded for his rudeness, but Remus was simply frowning at him in concern.

Harry shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I was expecting this. So, it shouldn’t hurt so much, right?”

Remus gazed at him with said eyes. “I’m afraid, Harry, that it always hurts to be rejected.”

“Rejected,” Harry repeated morosely, “yeah.” Then it occurred to Harry, belatedly though it was, that Remus probably wasn’t feeling very happy right now either. “Remus,” he started tentatively. Remus raised his eyebrows, inviting Harry to continue, “Aren’t you angry?”

Remus’ face screwed into a scowl. “Of course, I’m angry, Harry! That bast-”

Harry shook his head, hurriedly and clarified, “No, no…I meant because…well, because I’m not James’ son,” Harry finished miserably and Remus looked at his young friend in surprise and then a sort of sad understanding dawned on his weathered face.

“Oh, Harry,” Remus said gently and reached out to place his hand over Harry’s, “of course not. You’re mother was my friend too…a very dear friend for many years.”

Harry nodded seriously. “Thanks,” he said.

Remus smiled at that. “Harry, you don’t need to thank me for caring about you. And,” he said, giving Harry a pointed look, “I would like you, even if Lily wasn’t your mother.”

Harry groaned as he flopped back in his chair. “Don’t even say that, Remus. Isn’t this mess bad enough?”

Remus chuckled lightly and patted Harry’s hand a few times before pulling away. His face turned serious then and he said quietly, “Harry…I don’t want you to think that James didn’t love you. Even though he wasn’t your father, he loved you very dearly.”

Harry had to swallow past the large lump in his throat before he nodded. “I know. I…I saw him when he came out of Voldemort’s wand…in the cemetery.” Harry swallowed again, desperately trying not to cry. There was no reason to cry, he told himself. He hadn’t lost anything, not really.

He knew James and his mum had loved him, even if James wasn’t his dad. And, Harry certainly didn’t need Snape; he had never really had any sort of parental figure, anyway…except maybe Sirius. At the thought of Sirius, Harry’s eyes darkened. Damn Snape anyway. If Snape hadn’t goaded Sirius ….

But Harry stopped that train of thought almost instantly. He knew that Sirius was reckless enough on his own; he hadn’t needed any help from Snape in that department. I he were being honest with himself, Harry had to concede that the whole thing had been his own fault. Sirius wouldn’t have needed to act so rashly if Harry hadn’t been so stupid. If only he’d practiced Occlumency, as Snape had told him to. Really, thought Harry with a wry twist of his lip, if he’d listened to Snape, Sirius wouldn’t be dead. How was that for irony?

Remus, noticing Harry’s swift shift in mood, said gently, “Harry, why don’t we take a walk before dinner? Maybe visit with Hagrid?”

At that, Harry brightened, pushing his dark thoughts downward. “Sure,” he said easily and stood up. He swung his long-forgotten bag over his shoulder and fell in step beside Remus. When they’d reached the door, he stopped abruptly and turned his head to look at Remus perplexedly. “Wait…what did Dumbledore say about Malfoy?”

Remus tilted his head in confusion and then his eyes shifted slightly to look over Harry’s shoulder. His mouth thinned and his eyes narrowed. Harry turned quickly and his cheeks began to burn. Standing next to the open door to Snape’s office was Professor Snape himself, looking at Harry and Remus in surprise.

Snape’s face quickly melted into a blank mask and Harry clenched his jaw. Before he could decide whether or not to open his mouth and tell Snape exactly what he thought of him, Remus stepped in front of Harry, just as he’d done in Dumbledore’s office. The color in Harry’s cheeks spread further toward his hairline. What sort of coward did Remus think he was?

Harry placed a hand on Remus’ arm intending to move around him, but Remus’ muscles tensed under his robes and he snapped out at Snape, “You! You stay away from him.” Remus’ voice was a threatening growl and Harry shuddered at the sound…an echo of the beast lurking inside him.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Remus’ tone. “Get out of my classroom, werewolf!” he commanded, his face slipping easily into the familiar sneer.

“Hey!” Harry said suddenly, stepping away from Remus, “don’t talk to him like that!”

Snape’s face shifted toward rage in an instant as he turned on Harry. “How dare you, Pot-” and then his voice faltered and the Potions Master seemed to deflate right in front of Harry’s eyes. Harry had never seen Snape looking confused and he had to admit, it was not a good look for the Professor.

Snape’s rigid stance relaxed a measure and the man just stood there, staring at Harry in vivid concentration, as though he was searching for something. Harry tensed again, under the scrutiny, but he didn’t turn away. If Snape was looking for fear, or even regret, he wouldn’t find it. Harry lifted his chin a bit in defiance and something seemed to break in the Professor; Snape turned away.

Disappointment washed through Harry again and he frowned, annoyed at himself for allowing himself to get so worked up about this—about Snape.

“Harry, let’s just go.” Remus said from behind Harry.

Harry paid little attention to his friend as he continued to stare at Snape. There seemed to be no way to salvage any of this, and with that thought, he blurted out, “You loved my mum.” Harry realized it sounded like an accusation.

Snape whirled around, and Harry was not surprised to see Snape’s sharp features twisted again in anger. He was however, frankly stunned when Snape answered calmly, “Yes,” his face perfectly still save his lips as they formed the single word.

Harry, after a moment’s silent contemplation, nodded and turned back toward the door, ready now to follow Remus. Snape, it seemed was capable of love. Bitter and angry though the man was, Snape was capable of more. With a twisted fist around his heart, Harry turned again to follow Remus, feeling utterly miserable.

The sound of a cork as it popped its way out of a flask had Harry turning again to see Snape, pressing one of the small knives they used to slice Potions ingredients, into the palm of his hand. Harry watched curiously, in spite of himself, as Snape used his other hand to gently massage near the center of his palm. A small drop of blood coalesced and fell, into Dumbledore’s blue-grey Potion. The Potion began to swirl.

Snape looked up then, and locking his gaze swiftly on Harry’s, he picked up the flask and began moving purposefully toward Harry. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Remus take a step toward him, but with a slight shake of Harry’s head, Remus stilled.

When the Potions Master reached Harry, he set the flask on a table and with one quick movement, he reached down and jerked Harry’s hand toward him. Snape turned the hand sharply so that the palm was facing him and in complete silence and with his eyes firmly focused on the task, Snape touched the tip of the knife to Harry’s delicate skin. With a quick pressure and the sting of brief pain, Harry’s skin broke.

Snape pulled Harry’s hand downward, so it was hovering over the flask. Just as he had done to his own palm, Snape squeezed lightly and a twin drop of blood oozed out from the tiny knick in Harry’s palm. It fell into the Potion. The blood hit the surface and with a great violent hiss, the grey-blue Potion began to churn as the drop of blood seemed to grow larger, swirling red among the murk. Harry’s drop of blood began to overtake the lighter hue until the entire flask was filled with deep crimson.

All three Wizards watched, although Harry wasn’t exactly sure what he was seeing. But, he did feel sure that Snape was trying to prove that he wasn’t in fact his father. And once the Potion had stilled, Harry looked up resentfully to find Snape turning his fixed gaze from the flask to Harry. But, Snape didn’t look triumphant…or angry. And, Harry finally noticed, with surprise, that the Potions Master was still gripping his hand.

Harry didn’t know how to classify the way Snape was staring at him now. After several tense minutes, Harry tugged slightly on his hand and Snape looked down at Harry’s hand, as if he too hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. Snape’s mouth opened and then he immediately snapped it shut again. Harry tugged again and Snape immediately released him.

“What does it mean?” Harry finally asked in small voice, tapping the flask tentatively with his newly-freed fingers; Snape was still staring at him.

Snape said stiffly, “The crimson color indicates a filial relationship.” When Harry looked at him in confusion, he clarified brusquely, “It means that you are my son.”

“Oh.” Well, Harry certainly hadn’t been expecting that. Shouldn’t Snape have thrown something at him by now, instead of just staring at him, then? Harry couldn’t figure out why the man sounded so calm. Remus, it seemed had the very same notion, as he was staring perplexedly at his colleague.

Snape noticed and snapped at the other man, “I believe I told you to leave, Lupin.”

Harry noticed he didn’t call his friend, ‘werewolf’ that time.

Remus snapped out of his stupor with Snape’s harsh observation. He bristled and said shortly, “We’ll leave when Harry’s ready.”

Snape’s face contorted at Remus’ words though Harry didn’t think it was in anger, not exactly. Instead of responding, Snape slipped his wand from his sleeve and Harry watched as he waved it in an angry arc. The revealing flask and its contents vanished. So there wouldn’t be any evidence, Harry concluded as his gut clenched painfully. Harry turned away as his eyes prickled and he asked quietly, “Can we go?”

Remus looked surprised but covered it quickly with a smile. “Of course, Harry.” Remus looked back again once more at Snape, but Harry kept his eyes determinedly forward. He didn’t need another demonstration to understand how Snape felt. It was fine with him, he insisted to himself as Remus placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder and the pair left the Potions classroom, leaving the Potions Master staring after them.

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

Severus had no idea what he had done to make Harry leave so abruptly. He had been shocked to find Harry and Lupin in his classroom after he’d Flooed into his office. He’d only come out to retrieve the Potion he had known Albus would leave behind. Severus hadn’t any idea that Harry would still be there; he had assumed the boy would have left immediately after Severus had gone.

Severus had forgotten himself completely when Harry had snapped at him. In that instant, the boy was Potter again, the impertinent brat he’d known for five years. It was only after Harry had stared at him, with his chin lifted in a defiant imitation of Lily, that Severus thought that maybe, perhaps Harry would give him a chance to explain.

He had wanted to talk to Harry, Severus realized wretchedly. He had even experienced the barest ghost of hope as he’d stood there watching Harry staring at him. And so, Severus had picked up the Potion, deciding quickly to use it to demonstrate to the boy that he had accepted the truth of the Pensieve’s memories. After all, even Potter should realize a Potions Master could not deny such evidence.

Severus had even been briefly pleased that Harry had seemed surprised at Severus’ calm fortitude as he’d told they boy exactly what the crimson coloring had meant. But then, Harry’s face had turned cold, his tone frosty as he asked Lupin to leave with him. Severus’ fist clenched around his wand as he thought of the werewolf putting his arm around the boy to comfort him. Severus had once been the one to comfort a much younger Harry….

Severus had missed so many years, so many opportunities. And now, it seemed Harry didn’t need him. Of course, a sixteen-year old young man would not need him; apparently Severus’ first instincts had been correct. Severus berated himself for allowing his long held emotions to surface. He had even begun to feel a hint of residual warmth toward the boy, without having given himself permission to do so; it had been a mistake.

Severus stood in his dungeon classroom and carefully began to close his mind to the events of the past two days. He would put away every feeling, every trace of emotion he had indulged in. He would be able to see Potter in his Potions classroom twice a week, without incident. He’d have to make a few adjustments, of course. But Severus was used to changing his reactions to suit the necessary circumstances. He had after all, played the role of a double agent for Voldemort for fifteen years. This could not be much more difficult.

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

Hermione had sent Ron up to Dumbledore’s office after twenty minutes of waiting anxiously outside Snape’s classroom. They hadn’t heard anything once the door had crashed shut and after ten minutes of tense silence, the bushy-haired girl had gripped Ron’s arm painfully and demanded that he do something. Ron, equally concerned about his best mate, had agreed and the two of them tried a number of different spells to undue the Silencing Charms Hermione had guessed were tightly woven around the door. They had finally given up and Ron went in search of the Headmaster.

He had found McGonagall instead, giving instructions to an irate Filch outside Dumbledore’s office gargoyle. Ron had hastily interrupted the Deputy Headmistress, with a frantic, “It’s Harry!” McGonagall had ordered Ron abruptly to lead the way, leaving Filch yelling indignantly behind them. Ron had explained the all everything, including Harry’s plan to tell Snape as they hurried toward the dungeons. He didn’t spare much thought to hoping that Harry wouldn’t be angry once he found out Ron had spilled his secrets…if he found out. There was no way of telling what the evil bat would do once Harry told him the truth.

After Ron had explained, McGonagall had pursed her lips and quickened her steps, apparently coming to the same conclusion he and Hermione had. Professor and student made it to Snape’s classroom just as Harry and Lupin were coming through the door. McGonagall stopped abruptly and asked sharply, “Potter, are you all right?”

Harry glanced up in surprise, “Erm…yes, ma’am,” he told her, not understanding why his Head of House would be asking him that.

McGonagall slid a cool glance toward Ron and Hermione, who both ducked their heads in embarrassment. “Mr. Weasley seemed to be under a different impression.”

Harry stared at his friends. Ron’s face heated and Harry guessed that he had told McGonagall everything. Harry sighed and said to McGonagall, “Sorry.” His Professor nodded curtly and then with an assessing gaze, she asked Remus to accompany her to her office. Once Harry had nodded to assure his friend he was okay with Ron and Hermione, Remus had left, though still reluctantly it seemed, with McGonagall.

Ron muttered an apology but Harry quickly waved it away. What did it matter if one more person knew? Harry was sure Dumbledore would have told McGonagall eventually anyway. And, she was in the Order; Harry trusted her.

“What happened?” Hermione finally asked as they bypassed the enchanted staircase and went outside instead.

Harry shrugged. “He knows.”

Harry knew his two friends were looking at one another and most probably having a silent conversation behind his back. Neither of them pressed him further for details though, for which Harry was grateful; he had no desire to talk about anything that had transpired in the dungeon today.

The three friends settled themselves on Harry’s outspread cloak in the grass, with Harry unconsciously positioning himself so that he was sitting across from Ron and Hermione who chose spots next to each other. Harry noticed with a small smile that they were sitting rather closer than they usually did and he wondered if it had been an unconscious choice.

They sat in silence until Harry spotted Ginny, just exiting the great castle. As soon as she saw the three of them sprawled on the lawn, she hurried over and dropped down beside Harry. Ginny’s face was slightly flushed, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“Parvati told me Snape made you stay after class. Did you tell him?” Her excitement was almost catching, until Harry remembered just exactly what had happened after he’d told Snape. But he nodded anyway, averting his eyes to look over the Lake.

Even though Ginny didn’t ask for details, Harry felt compelled to share anyway,

“Dumbledore made a Potion-”

“Filial Potion?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded distractedly and continued, “He refused to use it. So, I showed him the memories…he got really angry and left. He came back after a bit and he and I both added a drop of our blood to the Potion and it turned red… Snape told me it meant that I’m his son.” Harry concluded, dejectedly.

His friends looked at him in confusion.

“But that means he accepted it, right?” Ginny asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head and his voice caught as he explained in a small voice, “I thought so…for a minute. But, then he banished the flask and he looked so…well, he didn’t look happy. Maybe determined, I guess, as if he was getting rid of the evidence.”

Ginny and Ron were giving him sympathetic looks, though Hermione looked merely thoughtful and she said quickly, “Harry, he had to get rid of the evidence. If anyone found out, it would be disastrous for both of you.”

Harry blinked a few times and then balled his fists in a sudden burst of temper. “You weren’t there, Hermione. You didn’t see him. He was so-so purposeful about it.”

“Snape’s purposeful about everything,” Hermione told him reasonably.

Harry eyed his friend incredulously. “So, you’re telling me, Snape doesn’t mind that he’s my father?”

Hermione looked uncomfortable and she squirmed slightly before replying, “Well, Harry…I didn’t see the memories but it sounds as though he really loved your mother, and he must have—well, he must have loved you too,” she finished in a rush, her cheeks flaming.

Harry stared at her. Hermione was watching him nervously until Harry began to look thoughtful. “He did say he loved her.” He didn’t think Ron could have looked more shocked if Harry had told him his sister was the newest Dark Lord. Ginny and Hermione were nodding at each other in satisfaction, which made Harry bite out, “So what though?”

Both girls looked at him as though he was daft and he blew out a breath in annoyance.

Ginny smiled gently at him and asked very unexpectedly, “If Snape wanted to make some sort of effort to have a relationship, would you want to?”

Harry blinked in surprise but then tilted his head as he thought about the question, seriously thought about it. “Do I want Snape as a father?” he asked her, but Ginny shook her head.

“Not even that, Harry. If Snape stopped tormenting you…do you think you could even tolerate him?”

It seemed a simple enough concept and Harry found himself saying slowly, “He wasn’t mean to me today….”

Ginny asked pointedly, “Has Snape ever not been nasty to you?”

Well that was easy enough to answer. “No,” Harry told her without hesitation.

“And yet, he had just had perhaps the second most shocking news of his life.” Ginny was smiling. Harry ran an unconscious hand through his hair as he considered that. She did make a good point. Still, though, how was Harry supposed to believe he and Snape could somehow get past five years of animosity? He couldn’t even fathom that Snape could possibly want to.

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Gin,” he said, shaking his head.

Ginny laughed. “I didn’t say it would be simple, Harry. It’ll most likely be nearly impossible.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Great, Ginny. You’re a comfort…really,” he told her sarcastically.

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

Harry spent most of the next two days in almost constant movement, in an effort by his friends to keep his mind occupied. Harry was trying extremely carefully not to dwell on Snape and whether or not the man had in fact been rejecting him; he changed his mind almost hourly. Harry’s head became more and more muddled as the weekend wore on. That was probably how he and Ron came to the somewhat dubious conclusion that a pick-up game of Quidditch was in order.

They secured resounding approval from McGonagall, who had looked at Harry with such pity that he was pretty sure the dour Professor had only said yes because of Snape, but Harry was too excited to mind very much. It was with a much lighter heart that Harry, along with most of the upper level Gryffindors, made his way out onto the Pitch. Ron began as referee and after each team had hastily assembled themselves, Ron gave a loud shout and the Quaffle was released.

Harry, of course was acting as Seeker for his team and he grinned as he flew lazily about the Pitch, watching his friends. The games they had played at the Burrow this summer, had been fun of course, but nothing like this. There was simply no better feeling, Harry decided as he kept a sharp eye out for the snitch, while also trying to follow the game below him.

Harry cheered along with his teammates as the Quaffle sailed neatly through the goalpost. And, again as Ginny neatly glanced a charging Bludger off her club, changing its path instead, toward one of the other team’s Beaters. Then Harry was distracted as he caught sight of the Snitch, flying high above the goalposts. With practiced ease, Harry turned his broom slightly and sped toward the little gold ball. Seamus, the other Seeker, had noticed the Snitch as well and he made his way toward it.

Harry concentrated completely on the task, keeping sharp track of the Snitch as he raced away from the goalposts, and toward the middle of the Pitch. Harry grinned as he changed directions with ease, racing ever faster as he tried to catch up with the Snitch. Harry and Seamus were flying almost exactly parallel, each pushing the other to nudge their brooms faster. Just as Harry had gained a slight lead, one of the Bludgers slammed into him and Harry was hurtled toward the ground. He heard the sickening crunching of bones and Ginny calling his name…funny he should recognize it, Harry thought pointlessly as he lost consciousness.

It seemed a long time later when Harry heard something that sounded vaguely like a Floo roaring quietly, followed almost immediately by what sounded like a whispered locking and silencing spell and Harry remembered that he had been brought to the Hospital wing but couldn’t really remember why.

Harry heard the slight scraping of a chair being pulled close to his bed followed again by silence. Harry probably would have felt at least mildly panicked at the intrusion had he not felt so groggy. As it was, though, he couldn’t work up the energy to open even one of his eyes…he was just too damn tired.

Harry drifted in and out of a somewhat semi-conscious sleep, forgetting that there was most likely someone sitting next to his bed. Remus, he had decided when he’d first heard the rustle of robes as the person settled in next to him…or maybe Dumbledore. It was during a slightly more lucid period some hours later, that Harry felt the feathered touch of a hand against his brow.

Warm, rough fingers lightly brushed his fringe away from his eyes and then one of the long fingers gently traced his lightening-bolt scar. Harry turned his head reflexively toward the hand, wanting to thank Remus for sitting with him. He inhaled the fragrant scent of clove lingering on the hand against his forehead and Harry smiled in contentment as he drifted back to sleep.

When Harry woke the next morning as the sun streamed through the infirmary windows, he yawned and stretched carefully to avoid moving too much. Most of what had happened came back to him in a rush. He’d fallen from his broom and been Hovered by someone to the Hospital Wing, with dozens of broken bones. Madame Pomfrey had given him more Potions than he could count and then Harry had fallen into a fitful sleep, arousing many times during the course of the night.

He smiled at the hazy memories of last night, remembering that Remus had spent most of the night sitting next to him. It was actually a bit embarrassing, now that Harry was fully aware of his surroundings again. Secretly though, Harry was grateful for the way Remus had tried to soothe his restless sleep. Harry wrinkled his nose as the memory of Remus was joined by a somehow familiar smell. What had it been? A warm, almost spicy aroma….cinnamon or maybe cloves….Cloves!

With a dizzying jolt, Harry realized that it hadn’t been Remus beside him at all and it came to him immediately why the scent had been so familiar. He had smelled the same scent on Snape’s breath, on Thursday, when Harry had finally shared the truth with the Potions Master.

It had been Snape? Snape had sat with him all night? It couldn’t have been, Harry tried to tell himself firmly. The hand against Harry’s forehead had been too gentle…tender, even. And, he was certain the fearsome Potions Master would never sit with anyone all night long, let alone Harry Potter.

But as Harry sat, stunned, on the hospital bed, he knew it had been Snape watching over his sick bed. The calloused hand on his brow last night had been the same one that had grabbed Harry’s chin in Dumbledore’s office and it was the same hand that had guided Harry’s bloodied palm over the flask of Filial Potion. It even was the same hand that had gripped Harry’s as, together, they had witnessed the proof of their shared genetics. Overwhelmed, Harry fell back against the white cushions and stared blankly at the ceiling.

1996

Severus scowled ferociously at a tiny pair of Hufflepuff first years as he stormed his way to the Great Hall just before dinner. The frightened brats scurried quickly out of the Potions Master’s way and Severus wanted to smile at the terrified way they had scrambled away from him. Maybe if hadn’t been in such a foul mood, he would have smiled. Damn Minerva.

The Deputy Headmistress had requested Severus’ presence in her office earlier in the afternoon and had demanded that Severus join the rest of the staff for dinner. “You may not use your discomfort as an excuse any longer, Severus,” the woman had told him pointedly, her eyes fiercer than usual. Severus had not been in the great hall once since Harry had left his office Thursday afternoon. Apparently, his reasons had been overbearingly transparent.

“I have been busy,” Severus had lied stiffly, averting his eyes.

“So I hear,” Minerva had said blandly.

Severus had narrowed his eyes at her tone. How dare Albus share his private affairs with Minerva…or had it perhaps been Lupin? He doubted though that the damned werewolf would have the temerity; Lupin was weak. Incensed at the Headmaster’s audacity, Severus had snapped, “My private affairs are not your concern, Minerva.”

“How you treat children in my House is most certainly my concern,” she had snapped right back. Minerva had been chastising Severus for years about her maltreatment of her Gryffindors, and most especially of Potter. Her complaints however had done her little good as they fell on deaf eyes, not least of all, Severus’. Albus, though he occasionally admonished Severus to be kinder toward the students, didn’t actually do much beyond that to encourage Severus to change his behavior.

Severus hadn’t responded to Minerva’s retort, preferring instead to favor Minerva with a rather cool look. After a few moments of icy silence, Minerva had sighed and told him to be in the Great Hall for dinner, no excuses.

So that was how Severus found himself stalking through the corridors toward the Great Hall, scattering nervous students in his wake. Seating himself at his place at the Head table, after noting the unusual absence of Poppy and Lupin, Severus completely ignored the Gryffindor table as he surveyed the assembled students. Severus noticed a few stragglers among his Slytherins and made a mental note to berate them in their common room before lights out.

Dinner appeared before him a moment later and Severus began eating, taking his time as he listened inconspicuously to the conversations between the other Professors at the table. Most of the inane chatter rolled off his ears until he heard Hagrid’s heavily accented voice asking Minerva, “‘Ow is ‘Arry?”

Severus’ eyes darkened at the implication of the question. He completely forgot his anger though with Minerva’s worried answer, “He’s responding to Poppy’s treatments but slowly, I’m afraid.” Severus’ stomach turned to ice. Treatments? Why would Harry need treatments?

Severus kept his eyes on the plate in front of him and blocked all other mental intrusions to focus completely on Hagrid and Minerva. Hagrid was saying regretfully, “Ach, Professor. Bad blow, that. Bludgers are a nasty business.” Bludgers…so Harry had been hurt playing Quidditch. But the season hadn’t started yet….Had the Gryffindors held tryouts already? Surely not, as Severus would have heard about it from his own Quidditch team.

“Aye, Rubeus. Mr. Potter has a difficult night ahead of him,” Minerva agreed as she shook her head.

Severus finished eating methodically as he considered this. He knew now of course why Poppy was absent from dinner, and decided that Lupin was most likely in the Hospital Wing as well. Of course Lupin was probably sitting next to Potter’s bed, nervously clucking over the boy like an old mother hen, Severus thought with a sneer.

But Severus wondered why Poppy had not called for Severus’ assistance, as she often did when a student was seriously injured. So Harry could not be as hurt as Minerva’s concern had first led Severus to believe. What then, had she meant by ‘treatments’? Severus frowned down at his empty plate and decided it would be irresponsible of him not to at least check with Poppy to ensure that she did not need any Potions. Severus, after all, was Hogwart’s Potions Master.

The students were already beginning to leave the Great Hall as they finished their own meals and so Severus pushed his chair back and excused himself. He saw Minerva eyeing him as he passed her but he ignored the irritated look on her pinched face as he hurried toward the teacher’s exit at the end of the Head Table. He walked quickly toward the Hospital Wing, grateful that there were few students in the corridors.

Severus made it to the infirmary in only a few short minutes. Poppy looked up as he entered. “Severus, thank Merlin! I asked Filch to fetch you an hour ago,” she snapped, sounding extremely annoyed. Severus looked at the Healer in surprise.

“Forgive me, Poppy. I only heard about Potter’s injuries moments ago,” he explained; she looked confused for a moment, but then she turned briskly back to the bed she was standing next to. Severus moved toward it slowly. His breath hitched in his chest as he found his son lying pale and bruised under the sheet.

“What happened?” he murmured. Poppy gave him a considering look and Severus schooled his features, realizing belatedly that he was acting a fool, standing here gawking at Potter.

“He was hit by a Bludger during a Quidditch game with his housemates. He fell from fifty meters up,” Poppy told him matter-of-factly and Severus had to stifle a gasp. Fifty meters!

“Such a fall should have killed him,” Severus informed the Healer smoothly.

Poppy eyed the Potions Master again and nodded curtly. “Ms. Granger had the presence of mind to apply a Cushioning Charm. Unfortunately however, Mr. Potter was bounced off on impact. The Charm was a bit too…enthusiastic,” she told him, clearly annoyed at the stupid girl’s mistake. Severus agreed of course; he’d always known the little know-it-all was not nearly as clever as she so obviously believed herself to be.

Poppy moved aside slightly as Severus withdrew his wand from his sleeve. He waved it over the boy with practiced ease and experienced a sense of déjà vu. He frowned as he remembered the same movement of his wand over Lily in St. Mungo’s almost 17 years ago. Severus clenched his jaw in agitation, for allowing such thoughts to surface. He clamped the errant memory down swiftly and continued his assessment of Potter.

The boy had numerous broken and shattered bones, cuts and contusions. He was even slightly concussed, Severus had noted as his wand moved above Potter’s tender hairline. Severus completed his scan and slid his wand away. “Ossifying Potion,” he guessed; the Potion worked best on shattered bones when it was fresh, though it wasn’t strictly necessary. As Poppy had not yet given any to Potter, Severus inferred that she had been waiting for him to arrive before administering her own stored Potion.

Poppy nodded and added, “And a stronger Painkilling Draught from your stores, if you would…as Mr. Potter has had to wait for you to start on the other.”

Severus bristled at the Healer’s tone but decided his irritated response would most likely be met with more suspicion from Poppy so he simple nodded at her. “I will have it sent with a house-elf as soon as I reach my quarters.”

Poppy nodded. Severus turned toward the Floo. As he did, the infirmary doors opened and Lupin hurried in. He stopped in surprise when he saw Severus. The werewolf’s face immediately shifted in anger. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I am the Potions Master, Lupin. Who else do you suppose should be here to find out which potions Mr. Potter requires?”

“Perhaps someone who actually cares about making sure Harry gets well,” Lupin countered.

Severus clenched his fist and opened his mouth to retort but Poppy interrupted. “You boys can squabble later. Right now, Severus, Mr. Potter needs those Potions!” Severus snapped his mouth closed and without another word, he whirled and went to Poppy’s Floo. Glaring at Lupin, Severus flung the Floo Powder down and called for his private quarters. The Floo obliged immediately.

It was hours later and in almost complete darkness that Severus stepped through Poppy’s Floo again. He had informed the Mediwitch earlier that he would dose Potter with the Ossifying Potion himself as soon as he finished it and so Severus had brought the little vial with him as he entered the room.

Severus knew Poppy was sleeping in her office tonight, as was her habit when she had a student in the infirmary and so, out of his own habit to protect his privacy, Severus placed both Silencing and Locking Charms on the door to Poppy’s office as well as the door out of the infirmary.

He went over to the boy’s bed slowly so he wouldn’t wake him. A shaft of moonlight was lighting his form and again Severus was startled by how pale Potter’s face was; the dark bruises stood out starkly against the unnaturally pallid flesh. After a moment’s uneasy consideration, Severus cast a spell to send the contents of the little vial right into Harry’s stomach, deciding that it was best not to wake him, not least of all because he needed his sleep.

Deciding to wait to ensure that Potter didn’t have a negative reaction to the Potion, Severus conjured a chair from a corner of the room and then pulled it closer to the bed. Severus sat down quietly, his eyes remaining on the boy’s still face. He looked so peaceful as he lay there…so innocent and the accursed feeling of déjà vu touched Severus again as he stared at Potter…so like the younger Harry that he had sat vigil with, one long night, fifteen years ago.

Harry lay fitfully in his father’s arms and a small whimper escaped the little boy’s lips.

“Shhh, Harry,” Severus soothed in a quiet voice, rocking both of them gently back and forth in Lily’s Muggle rocking chair.

Harry continued to struggle lightly and Severus gently ran his fingers through the little boy’s damp black hair, matching the movements to the rhythm of the chair. After a few minutes, Harry quieted and his green eyes began to droop again. Severus pressed his lips to his son’s forehead briefly and smiled slightly as he watched Harry drifting into a more peaceful sleep.

Severus finally stood and with careful movements, he placed Harry into his crib. He rearranged the emerald green blanket that James had given them the day Harry had been born. Severus watched Harry’s little chest rise and fall with gentle movements before reaching out again to smooth his son’s raven shock of hair. When he was satisfied that the little boy was soundly asleep, Severus moved Lily’s chair closer to the bed and sat down quietly, keeping a watchful eye on his son.

Severus had spent the whole night, keeping vigil over Harry, monitoring him each time he woke for signs of a renewed fever. He remembered with a small smile, Lily’s grin when she had found them the next morning, with Harry nestled peacefully in her husband’s arms, Harry’s fingers gripping his father’s robes tightly in his little fist.

As Severus watched his sleeping son now, his heart beat a little faster with the nervousness he was feeling. Hesitantly…slowly, Severus reached out a hand, the same hand he had soothed the same boy with, all those years ago. The calloused hand hovered near Harry’s shoulder and then with uncertain movements, Severus reached out further and lightly brushed the fringe of black hair back from the boys’ eyes. As he exposed Voldemort’s scar, Severus’ gut contracted painfully.

He willed himself to remain calm as he used his thumb to gently trace the lightening bolt shape, thinking of Lily as he did. Lily had sacrificed herself to save their son; Severus’ throat tightened with long ignored emotion. Harry moved his head slightly and Severus almost pulled his hand away but Harry didn’t appear to be waking up; only restless with the vague movements of a slightly disturbed sleep. Harry inhaled deeply and smiled, making Severus tilt his head curiously, wondering what he had been thinking about.

“Thanks, Remus,” the boy suddenly muttered and Severus’ long fingers stilled against Harry’s hair. His jaw clenched as he allowed anger to grip him instead of letting himself give into the unfamiliar rush of jealously that threatened to surge through him. He had a sudden urge to go straight to Lupin’s quarters and shake the werewolf furiously. But, he admitted wearily, as much as he might wish it to be, this was not Lupin’s fault.

He should have told Harry how much he had loved his mother and how much he had loved him. Severus should have explained why he had treated the boy so unjustly…explained exactly how warped he had become over the years. Severus quietly smoothed Harry’s hair again; he enjoyed the sound of his son sighing in contentment, even if Harry was contented by the thought of the werewolf, rather than him.

How could he have tried to convince himself that he did not want to claim this boy? This boy was his boy. After all these years, Harry was his to protect again. He had lost too much once. He would not lose his son again, Severus decided fiercely as he watched the slow rise and fall of Harry’s chest.

--------

Harry hadn’t come down yet from the mass of confusing emotions that roiled inside him, when Madame Pomfrey bustled in soon after he woke up. Harry had propped himself up gingerly and allowed Pomfrey to fuss over him before plying him again with potions and salves, including a particularly vile green Potion that Harry didn’t think he’d had to swallow yesterday.

Pomfrey clucked her tongue repeatedly and told Harry sternly to “stay still” at least a half a dozen times before finally allowing him his breakfast tray and rushing off to another task. Harry was feeling much better this morning, especially since he could actually use his left arm again, though he still couldn’t feel his legs. His left side had sustained most of the damage from Harry’s fall and then again, as he’d been bucked off Hermione’s Cushioning Charm.

Harry smiled slightly as he thought of his bushy-haired friend, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment as Ron had explained to Madame Pomfrey what had happened. Hermione had apologized over and over again until Ron mercifully ushered her out when the tears began to appear. Harry wasn’t surprised therefore to see Ginny stroll in alone after he had finished his breakfast; Hermione was probably still too upset to see him.

As soon as Ginny walked in, Harry blurted out, “Snape was here last night.”

“Snape?” Ginny repeated, surprised. Harry nodded and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Ginny perched himself slowly near Harry’s feet, being careful not to jostle the bed.

“It was strange. He came in here and just sat all night.” He didn’t want to tell Ginny how Snape had brushed a hand across his forehead…because that would mean Harry would have to admit to the warm glow that had been building all morning in his chest at the thought of it.

Ginny was grinning at him and Harry thought she looked a little smug; Harry couldn’t’ help smiling at the expression. Ginny had been on to something, it seemed. Snape must feel something more than hatred for him, if the he would stay all night with him in the infirmary. But, even though Harry felt warmed by the gesture, he couldn’t help feeling dismayed as well because he was certain that the Potions Master wouldn’t have come at all if he had had any idea that Harry would discover he had been here.

That made Harry wonder what Snape would have done if he’d woken up to find his Professor keeping vigil over him. Harry was pretty sure, whatever Snape’s reaction would have been, it probably would have involved some sort of raging about Harry being an insufferable brat. For some reason, the image made Harry grin.

“What?” Ginny asked, intrigued by his swift change in mood. But Harry just shook his head and turned the conversation instead to Hermione and Ron. They talked for awhile longer about nothing in particular, with Harry carefully steering Ginny away from any sort of conversation that could have led back to Snape. Although, he was certain that Ginny had noticed his badly disguised tactic, she didn’t comment on it.

When Pomfrey brought Harry’s lunch tray over to him a few hours later with a very strong suggestion that Ginny should be getting to her own lunch, Ginny gave Harry a reluctant wave and left. Harry realized after only a few bites that he wasn’t very hungry and what he really wanted to do was sleep. He pushed the tray down near his toes and lay his head gingerly back against the pillow. He hadn’t noticed how much his head was beginning to ache as he’d been too caught up in his conversation with Ginny.

Well, he had had a concussion after he’d fallen last night and Promfrey had also explained that though it had been fixed almost instantly, along with most of his broken bones, some of the injuries had required a freshly-made batch of Ossifying Potion which needed to be administered in four doses. And she’d also told him that all the Potions would make him very tired as they worked their way through his system.

So Harry decided not to fight it, though he felt a bit funny sleeping in the middle of the day. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it however as he was quickly drifting off to sleep. When Harry woke again, the Infirmary was dark, lit only by a few muted torches. Damn. He hadn’t meant to sleep for so long…he had slept through dinner, he realized as his stomach rumbled softly.

Picking his wand up from the small table beside his bed, Harry muttered, “Lumos,” with a quick wave. The tip lit up and Harry arced the wand back and forth a bit to find out if perhaps Pomfrey had left some dinner for him. He didn’t see any food, but there were a lot of cards on the table next to him, as well as a folded square of parchment. Harry plucked it off the table and unfolded it. It was from Remus.

Harry, it began, you were sleeping when I came by after lunch. I didn’t want to wake you. If you need anything tonight, please use the Floo to call me in my quarters. Take care of yourself. It was signed simply, Remus

Harry smiled at Remus’ invitation to Floo him if Harry needed him. Actually, Harry realized reluctantly, he rather missed the Floo-chats he and Remus had had while Harry was staying at the Burrow over the last few weeks of the summer holidays. Maybe he’d ask Remus tomorrow if they might visit on a regular basis here at Hogwarts as well.

Harry was just settling Remus’ note back on the small table when the Floo unexpectedly roared to life. Snape stepped through. Again, Snape’s face betrayed instant surprise as he saw Harry, awake in the bed, although Harry thought his own face held a bit of shock as well. Snape quickly schooled his features and stepped calmly over to Harry’s bed. With a quick wave of his wand, he set the few lit torches to emit larger flames and the room was bathed in light. Snape turned back toward Harry and considered him with a fierce gaze for a moment. Harry, with his stomach twisted in knots, gazed back at him.

Abruptly, Snape held out a small vial of the same green Potion that Pomfrey had given Harry that morning. “Drink it,” he ordered curtly and Harry took the little vial hesitantly.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Ossifying Potion—to stabilize your bones,” Snape answered, sounding annoyed that Harry would bother him with questions.

Harry eyed the green Potion, but didn’t drink it. “Madame Pomfrey said I’d need four doses of this,” Harry said slowly, glancing quickly up at Snape and then back down again.

“Your point?” Snape demanded and Harry shook the vile gently as he bit his lip. He wanted to ask the Potions Master about last night, but he didn’t know how to go about it. Obviously Snape had come last night to bring him the first dose of Potion, as Pomfrey had explained she was giving him the second this morning.

Snape hadn’t come to the Hospital Wing with the intention of sitting with him. Harry was puzzled even more by that…what had made Snape decide to stay? “Which dose is this?” Harry finally asked quickly, not looking up this time. Snape took longer to answer.

“The third. Madame Pomfrey will give you the last one in the morning. You should be able to leave after that.” Snape’s response was utterly clinical and Harry felt his cheeks warm in nervous embarrassment. He continued to stare at his sheet until Snape drawled, “I spelled the first dose straight into your stomach. Perhaps you would like me to do it again?” Harry looked up at the sarcastic question, expecting to find his Professor sneering at him. But Snape had absolutely no expression on his angular face.

Taking a breath, Harry shook his head and said, “No, sir…I can drink it.” Again Snape’s face revealed surprise though Harry had no idea what he had done to warrant the reaction. Snape watched him as he uncorked the vial and gulped the disgusting potion. Feeling self-conscious, Harry handed the vile back to Snape, who tucked it inside his robe.

When Snape didn’t immediately leave, Harry said tentatively, “I don’t remember the first dose, sir.”

“You would not. You were asleep,” Snape told him, his voice level.

“Last night?” Harry ventured.

“Yes,” Snape told him calmly, no trace of emotion in the cold voice.

Harry swallowed nervously and looked down to watch his fingers twisting the thin sheet covering his legs. He wasn’t going to be coward. “You stayed, sir.” Harry’s voice was barely a whisper. Silence. But he knew Snape must have heard him; the man could hear the soft swish of Powdered Eel breaking the surface of a Curdling Potion.

“Yes,” Snape finally answered and Harry’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with shock at the admission. Snape was still looking at him, an unfathomable expression in his black eyes.

“Why?” Harry wondered, his voice sounding more like a plea than he had intended. Snape looked away.

“I had to monitor your reaction to the Ossifying Potion,” he said stiffly.

Harry deflated. “Oh,” he said in a small voice. Snape turned suddenly, the motion sharp and Harry blinked at him, startled.

Snape narrowed his eyes and asked, “How did you know I stayed?” his voice intense and Harry suddenly wished he hadn’t bothered. Why did he keep being such an idiot? Desperately not wanting to finish this, Harry shook his head but he should have known that wouldn’t work. “I asked you a question,” Snape said sharply and Harry felt his cheeks growing warm again, this time with anger.

“Just forget it, okay,” he told the Potions Master irritably.

“Mind your tone,” Snape returned automatically, his own irritation with Harry clearly demonstrated by the clench of the man’s jaw.

Harry however, was growing quickly tired of the back and forth transformations in Snape’s demeanor, so he snapped, “Or else what, Professor?”

Instantly, Snape had his wand withdrawn from his sleeve and Harry recoiled, back into his pillows, his mouth opening to call for Pomfrey, but Snape was faster. He pointed swiftly to the four corners surrounding the two of them and said tersely, “Postulo Sonitus.” Then he pointed at Pomfrey’s office door and at the door that led into the corridor and snapped, “Denego Obviam” twice, once for each door.

When Snape had finished, he turned back to see Harry slowly uncurling himself from a ball on the bed, wincing slightly as he moved. Snape frowned and stepped closer to Harry’s bed, bringing his wand up again to wave it over Harry quickly. When Harry tensed again, Snape’s frown deepened.

“I did not mean to frighten you,” he said awkwardly and Harry’s temper flared again.

“I’m not frightened,” he snapped.

Snape narrowed his eyes, apparently snapping out of any unease he had been feeling. He leaned in closer to Harry and said snidely, “Excellent. Perhaps you could cease jerking yourself about, and furthering damaging yourself. Madame Pomfrey will not be pleased if she has to spend another night in her office.”

“Well you could have told her you were going to be here and then she could have just stayed in her quarters,” Harry told him flippantly, folding his arms across his chest.

“No, I could not have told her. I cannot tell anyone.” Snape’s voice was hard, but instead of making Harry calm down, the tone had the opposite effect.

Harry glared at Snape and said sarcastically, “Of course not. We wouldn’t want you to have to worry about getting into trouble with Voldemort.”

Snape’s fist suddenly banged on the top of Harry’s table, making several of the well-wish cards scatter to the floor and Harry jump. Snape leaned in further and breathed in a low, dangerous voice, “I do not keep my silence in fear for my life, you insufferable brat. How dare you insinuate as much?” And then, Snape pulled back abruptly and said icily, “You will not tell anyone else…not even your idiotic friends. If you do, I will make sure that you regret it.” The threat hung between them until with a foul curse, Snape undid the spells he had cast earlier and then disappeared through the Floo.

Harry sat as he watched Snape Flooing away. Once the fire had died back down, he felt a terrible shame clutching at him, coursing through his body in hot waves as he thought of Snape’s words. And it turned out, having Snape call him an ‘insufferable brat’ wasn’t so amusing after all.

“Severus!” James heard Lily scolding from the kitchen, “Remus will be here any minute.”

“Leave him alone, Lils. He’s trying to teach Harry to say ‘Powdered Lichen’,” James told her with a chuckle as he listened to Severus coaching his son in the finer points of potion making, though the little boy was more interested in transferring plastic frogs in and out of the child-sized cauldron that was sitting on the low table in front of Severus.

“Must you continue to use that asinine moniker?” Severus asked as he always did, though the question came in various forms.

“Language!” Lily called from the kitchen.

Severus pursed his lips and then made a little oomph-ing sound as one of Harry’s frogs struck him on the nose, making the little boy giggle. “Brilliant, Harry,” James congratulated him and Harry grinned a toothy grin.

Harry held out a hand to Severus, waiting for his father to return the errant toy. Severus sighed, retrieved the frog from the floor and handed it obediently to Harry. Harry immediately threw it again, making James break into hearty laughter.

Severus, shaking his head in mild amusement, reached down for his boy and pulled him upwards and into his arms. James stood and held out his hands toward Harry. Harry clung tightly to his father and it was James’ turn to sigh. “Come on, Harry. Time to get dressed for Uncle Remus,” he coaxed, but Harry wouldn’t budge. Lily came in from the kitchen then and reached her arms out as well to Harry.

“Come along, sweetie.” But even for Lily, Harry didn’t move an inch, content in his father’s arms. Lily shook her head, though she was smiling. “I suppose he’s fine as he is.” She did use her wand though to clean the little boy’s smudgy hands and face.

Severus held Harry still while Lily spelled him clean and James couldn’t help noticing the smug look on the man’s face and he wondered if Severus even realized he was looking so ridiculously pleased with himself. But James didn’t begrudge him the feelings; Severus had come a long way and although he knew Severus would never admit to a similar feeling, James enjoyed their newfound friendship.

There a was a quiet knock on the front door and with a quick glance at James and Severus to ensure that they were ready, Lily went to let Remus in. When Remus followed Lily into the parlor, James immediately grinned and greeted him, “Moony!” The two thumped one another soundly as they hugged and James quickly asked, “How did everything go?”

Remus shrugged but then turned at the childish shout, “We!” with a grin on his worn face.

“Harry!”

Harry toddled over to Remus and excitedly lifted his little hands in the air, clenching and unclenching them into fists with impatience as he waited for Remus to lift him. Remus obliged immediately, planting a kiss on the toddler’s cheek, tickling him gently. Harry squealed in delight.

“How’s my big boy?” Remus asked the decidedly little boy. Harry watched the werewolf with solemn eyes and Remus tousled the black hair with affection. Then, as if he had just remembered his manners, Remus turned to where Severus was standing near the other doorway and offered politely, “Good evening, Severus.”

Severus nodded curtly, “Lupin.”

James knew Severus was annoyed that Harry had gone so easily and swiftly to Remus. But jealously was another emotion Severus would not have admitted to and he covered his feelings well as he watched Moony holding his son. James doubted he could have done as well himself.

“You’ll stay for dinner, Remus?” Lily asked, her face warm as she watched her friend; Remus chuckled.

“Are you cooking?” he wanted to know. Lily grinned and nodded. “Well, then, of course,” he accepted easily.

“Would you like to help?” Lily asked him.

Remus eyed the little boy in his arms, assessing him “What do you say, Harry? Should we give your old mum a hand?”

Lily swatted Remus’ arm playfully. “Don’t warp Harry’s mind. I am not old.”

Remus grinned and asked Harry seriously, “Should we help your young mum, then, Harry?” He tickled the little boy again, setting off peals of giggles and Remus laughed with him, bouncing Harry lightly in his arms as he followed Lily to the kitchen.

James was grinning as he watched the trio walk out of the parlor but he stopped at the look on Severus’ face. Now that Remus had left the room, Severus was looking distinctly disgruntled.

“Harry adores you,” James tried gently only to have Severus turn toward him with a scowl.

“Thank you, James, for stating the obvious,” he drawled sarcastically. James sighed and Severus, still huffing in frustration, went to finish whatever potion he was working on in the lab. James shook his head and wondered why he even bothered sometimes; the man was a walking sneer.

------

1996

Severus paced in angry, measured steps in front of the hearth in his quarters. Damn his temper! He couldn’t even claim the excuse that he had little experience dealing with volatile teenage mood swings; Severus was the Head of Slytherin House, for Merlin’s sake! Teenagers didn’t come more explosive than his Slytherins. Damn, damn, damn, Severus fumed as he moved.

Why couldn’t he have simply explained calmly to Harry that he was concerned about him? Why did he have snap at the boy? Harry only had such idiotic assumptions about him because Severus had never given Harry any reason to believe his Professor capable of anything but hate. Of course his son would think him an egotistical cretin.

Severus had seen the way he’d left his son shaking in his bed. He had felt instantly remorseful, but he hadn’t known what to do. So he’d left. How many times was he going to just Floo away from a problem without dealing with it? But Harry wasn’t a problem…he was a boy…his son. A son he’d left three times in the past week without any sort of explanation.

Severus stopped pacing when his Floo erupted and then an extremely irate werewolf was glaring out at him. Severus glared back, wishing he’d remembered to close his damned Floo.

“What do you want?” he barked, expecting Lupin to have the decency to cringe at his tone, but instead Lupin stepped through the flames and into Severus’ sitting room. Outraged at Lupin’s audacity, Severus drew his wand and growled, “How dare you enter my rooms without permission in the middle of the night?”

Remus, completely unaffected, folded his arms across his chest and said calmly, not even bothering to draw his own wand, “You’ve left Harry a mess twice now and I will not allow you to hurt him again.”

Severus mentally sagged at Lupin’s words, cringing inwardly as he remembered the crushed look on Harry’s face earlier. But Severus would not reveal any such pitiful feeling to anyone, least of all Remus Lupin so he said instead, “Your threats do not interest me.”

“What does interest you, Severus?” Lupin asked, his brown eyes suddenly intense as he watched the Potions Master carefully.

“I am certain that is none of your business, wolf.”

Lupin raised a brow, obstinately refusing to rise to Severus’ bait. Severus cursed the man for his easy going nature. “Harry is my business, especially now that you’ve made it clear that he is none of yours.” Lupin’s eyes were glowing with determination, though he retained his docile tone.

Severus narrowed his eyes, “I have made no such thing clear, especially not to you,” he snarled.

Lupin’s eyes registered surprise and then he shook his head sadly. Lupin was looking at him with such pity that Severus felt his neck begin to flush, but he determinedly willed himself to calm; the tinge of red did not creep further up. “Whether you realize it or not, Severus, your behavior makes it plain to Harry that you do not want anything more to do with him now than you ever have.”

Severus turned away, lest the werewolf see the anguish that he was too surprised to restrain. That had not been his intention at all when he’d begun talking to Harry in the Hospital Wing. Hadn’t he answered the boy’s questions honestly? Of course he had lost his temper, which had made the boy understandably upset, but surely Harry should have understood his anger was only in reaction to his concern for his son? Apparently not though, Severus thought bitterly, as Harry had obviously called for Lupin at the first chance.

“Harry’s just a boy, Severus,” Lupin said gently. When Severus didn’t answer, he continued in that same cloying voice, “Surely you must have realized that Harry’s relatives would not be able to love him?”

He had realized it. Lily hadn’t talked of her sister very often, but the pain his wife had endured because of her sister’s obvious jealousy and loathing had been acute. Of course Petunia would not have cared for Lily’s son. The reason for Lupin’s words was not lost on Severus either; he understood from his own childhood that Harry would most likely not be able to trust easily, having no recollection of being loved or accepted as a child. Severus of course, had found love from Lily as an adult. Her acceptance had eased much of his own self-doubts…though not all.

“He deserves better from you.”

Severus jerked around. He had almost forgotten Lupin was still in his parlour, he had so lost himself to his musings. And Severus was surprised to realize that he was in perfect agreement with the werewolf. Harry did deserve better; it seemed unlikely however that the boy would get it.

“Are you finished?” Severus asked in an overly-polite tone, though his fearsome glare belied it.

“Are you going to talk to Harry?” Lupin pressed, with a glare of his own.

“I believe I mentioned before that this is none of your concern,” Severus said, an edge of menace having crept into his voice.

“And I made it clear to you that Harry is my concern. And I can assure you that he has no plans to change that arrangement,” Lupin answered lightly, sounded utterly indifferent to Severus’ rising anger.

“An arrangement, have you?” Severus sneered and the damn werewolf had the nerve to smile.

“Yes, Severus…it’s called a relationship, but then you wouldn’t know about those, would you, as poorly as yours went with Lily and now with your own son.”

Severus advanced on Remus, his wand drawing straight up until it was touching Lupin’s marred face. “You go too far,” Severus snarled.

“And you do not go far enough,” Lupin said quietly and with a measured glare, Lupin left the same way he had come in.

Severus’ snapped his wand back down from where it was still pointing at the empty air, cursing the werewolf’s name. How dare Lupin come here to tell him how to mind his own private affairs? Severus would talk to his son in his own way, in his own good time. He resented the man, Flooing to see Harry at a moment’s notice. Giving the boy comfort where Severus had so soundly failed. Of course he had failed! How dare Lupin expect of him what he could not give!

His fury set him pacing again in the small confines of his dungeon quarters. Did Harry expect the same of him? How could the boy expect anything, after all he’d gone through…after all the Potions Master had put him through? It was obvious though that Harry expected something of him. Severus’ words in the Hospital Wing had clearly decimated the boy. But Severus had spent nearly forty years battling with his renowned temper; if Harry could not even handle as small a sampling as Severus had doled out, any further effort would be doomed.

And Harry had a formidable temper of his own, which no doubt had been granted at least in part by Severus’ half of his son’s genetic makeup. But for all of Lupin’s frustrating blather, the werewolf had been correct. Harry was just a boy. Severus was an adult, at least technically, Severus amended in brief amusement, remembering that Lily had often used the term ‘technically an adult’ when she was claming that Severus was being childish.

As Severus allowed his thoughts to stray to Lily, his resolve firmed again. Severus had promised her that he would try. And try he would…again. He wondered, as he spelled the lights off in his the sitting room and turned toward his bedroom, just how many attempts it would take before Severus could leave a room without the boy quaking with some sort of overwhelming emotion?

------

Severus flipped the Infirmary door open and stepped into the hospital wing, which was now bathed in the subdued light of the early-morning sun. Harry was sitting in the same position he had been in last night, propped against his pillows, though now there was a tray brimming with half-eaten food hovering above the boy’s thighs. Harry looked up with an expectant smile; his face immediately crumpled when he saw it was Severus coming through the door.

“You were expecting someone else?” Severus asked coolly, falling back on the familiar jibing tone far too easily. Harry bit his lip, nervously it seemed, but the boy shook his head, denying the obvious truth in Severus’ statement.

Poppy hurried out of her office. “Severus, you brought Mr. Potter’s last dose of Ossifying Potion, I hope.”

“Obviously,” Severus answered dryly, holding out the small vile.

Poppy gave him a disapproving look before snapping, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Severus handed the potion to the boy. Harry took it obediently before gulping it in one smooth motion. He held out the vial without being asked and Severus found himself staring into his son’s green eyes, almost mesmerized by them. Mentally shaking himself, Severus pulled his wand out swiftly and this time, Harry remained perfectly still as he brought it forward. He waved the instrument over Harry’s form, taking extra time over the bones that had been shattered two days previous. Satisfied that the boy was healed, he turned to Poppy. “The Ossifying Potion seems to have worked effectively.”

Poppy huffed at him and took out her wand to do her own examination, saying snippily as she did so, “Thank you, Healer Snape.” Severus pursed his lips and simply watched Poppy complete the scan. “Well,” she said finally to Harry, “it seems Professor Snape is correct. You may leave after breakfast.” Severus bit back a small smile at Poppy’s tone; she sounded almost disappointed at the news. He knew the witch was never more content than when she was tutting over students, something he himself could not claim.

Harry grinned. “Brilliant!” he enthused and pushed his breakfast tray further down the bed and started to push himself up.

“Just a minute, young man,” Poppy cut in sharply and Harry stopped in mid-movement, looking up at her, his eyebrows drawn into his fringe. “Finish your breakfast and take your time. If you go flinging yourself about like that, you’ll be back here before nightfall.” With that, Poppy placed Harry’s tray back above the boy’s thighs and glared at the fork pointedly. With a sigh, Harry took a few more bites of egg before Poppy nodded and went back toward her office.

As soon as the Healer was out of sight, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and moved the tray out of the way again and sat up again, swinging his fully healed legs over the bed in one swift movement.

“I believe Madame Pomfrey would likely qualify that as ‘flinging’,” Severus said dryly and Harry looked up, startled. His face immediately flushed.

“Right. Sorry, sir,” Harry muttered, pushing himself back a little on the mattress and Severus immediately wished he hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t thought his comment as a chastisement, but apparently Harry saw something different.

Distinctly uncomfortable, Severus looked away, taking a moment to order his mind before turning back and replying, “As I said, the Ossifying Potion worked adequately, but it would be unwise to push yourself.”

Severus watched the boy carefully while Harry nodded and then gingerly stood up from the bed, seeming to test his stance slightly before standing upright. He looked up as he straightened. It looked as though he was considering his next words and Severus braced himself. He was a bit taken aback when the boy simply said, “Thank you…for the Potion, I mean.”

Severus nodded once and the feelings of disquiet began to overwhelm him; he Occluded his mind and said to the boy, “Classes start in less than thirty minutes. Unless you plan to arrive in your pyjamas, I suggest you be on your way.”

Severus had done his best to keep any traces of sarcasm or malice out of his voice and it seemed as though he might have succeeded. Harry didn’t glare at him or otherwise lose him temper at the words. He only nodded and put his robes over his night clothes. He stared again at Severus, an indecipherable expression on his face before clutching the long robes about himself and letting himself out into the corridor. Severus watched him go, feeling satisfied.

------

Harry smiled as he entered his dorm room; Ron was sprawled out on his stomach, his head under the bed, apparently looking for something. Harry laughed when Ron scrambled out, his hand grasped triumphantly around one of his shoes. Ron looked around at the sound of Harry’s laughter and grinned.

“Harry! You’re back!”

Smiling at him, Harry gave his friend a hand up and said, “Brilliant observation, Ron. Hermione would be impressed.”

“You’re a real riot, Harry.” Ron made a face at him and then bent down to tie up his shoe. “You going to class?” he asked as he straightened up, eyeing Harry’s pyjamas.

“Yeah,” Harry told him rolling his eyes as pushed off his robes and slung them over the bed.

“You’d better change then…unless you want to walk around the castle in those,” Ron said with a smirk.

Harry groaned, “You sound like Snape.”

Ron frowned at him. “Snape?”

Harry shrugged, “He said almost the same thing earlier,”

Ron was staring at him curiously, though Harry noticed he did look a bit disgruntled, presumably at having been compared to Snape. Harry grinned to himself and just as he was pulling his pyjama shirt over his head, Hermione’s voice range out in annoyance, “Ronald! Are you almost ready?”

Harry looked up, startled. Hermione was striding in, with Ginny right behind her. Hermione blushed at the sight of Harry standing in the middle of room, half-naked; she looked hurriedly away. He saw Ginny smile slightly at him before he quickly turned away to grab his shirt and jumper, his own face heating with a blush. He pulled the jumper over his head and turned back to face the girls in his doorway.

“Hey!” Ron told them pointedly, “Harry’s not going to wear his pyjama bottoms to Defense Against the Dark Arts, you know.”

Ginny and Hermione obediently turned around though Harry was pretty sure Ginny’s smile had brightened a bit. Harry mumbled a sarcastic and nearly inaudible, “Thanks, mate,” in Ron’s general direction as he yanked his legs into his trousers. He picked up both his tie and his robes after tying his shoes and said finally, “Okay, let’s go.”

“We thought you’d still be in the Hospital Wing,” Ginny offered as the four of them trooped down the stairs.

“Pomfrey sprung me after the last dose of Snape’s Potion,” he told her with a shrug.

“Did you see him again, then?” Ginny asked curiously and Harry figured she must have told her brother and Hermione about the Potions Master visiting him the first night in the Infirmary.

Harry nodded. “He came again last night to give me the potion and again this morning for the last dose.” He didn’t elaborate and he saw Ron nudging Hermione when she opened her mouth.

Hermione gave the redheaded boy a glare before asking, “What happened?”

Harry felt his face warm with the remembered hurt of Snape’s words the night before. But keeping his tone studiously light, he said, “He sneered about this and that…you know, the usual.”

Hermione gave him a skeptical look, while Ron nodded, “Course he did, Harry. What else can you expect from the bat?”

“Ron, you’re not helping,” Hermione chastised, but Ron ignored her.

“Did you at least get in a few good shots of you own, then?” he asked

Harry watched his feet as he walked. “A few,” he confirmed uneasily and his throat tightened a bit as he thought of at least one of his ‘shots’ to Snape. The one that had made Snape so angry.

They had stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Harry glanced up in some surprise. He hadn’t realized they’d made it all the way down to the main level.

“I’ve got Transfiguration. I’d better go.” Harry nodded at Ginny’s words. Ginny smiled and asked suddenly, “Do you want to study tonight in the library?”

“Good idea, Ginny,” Ron approved, “and then you can help me with the Charms essay Flitwick set for us,” Ron told Hermione happily but she frowned at him.

“I don’t think we were invited, Ronald.” Harry and Ron looked at Hermione, both confused and Ron said indignantly, “We are so…” but he trailed off at a glare from his sister. “…aren’t we?” he asked her.

“No,” Ginny said simply and Harry felt his cheeks warm again. “Harry?” Ginny asked again and Harry nodded mutely at her. She smiled and Harry felt his gut spasm, though not unpleasantly. “Good. See you later, then,” she said. She waggled her fingers and then she was lost in the clutch of students as they hurried to their classes.

Ron was staring at Harry in astonishment. Harry shrugged slightly, but Ron didn’t move until Hermione tugged sharply at his arm and said urgently, “Come on, Ron. We’re going to be late for class!” Ron nodded, somewhat dumbly and then allowed Hermione to drag him toward Remus’ classroom, with a fairly giddy Harry trailing behind them.

Remus’ return to Hogwarts had been a rousing success; only the Slytherins seemed to mind that Remus was teaching again. Harry enjoyed today’s session as much as he had the last two times, but since he was waiting anxiously for class to finish, he fidgeted in his seat almost the entire time, garnering him odd looks from Remus at regular intervals throughout the class.

When Remus finally dismissed the class, Harry explained quickly to his friends and then waited for the rest of the class to leave before perching on one of the desks in the front row. Remus eyed Harry’s decidedly nonchalant posture with an amused look before asking, “Something on your mind, Harry?”

Harry nodded, too distracted to notice Remus’ amusement. “You haven’t talked to Snape already, have you?”

Baffled, Remus nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“You did?” Harry asked, his voice rising a bit in puzzlement.

Remus nodded again, still confused. “I told you I was going to, Harry.”

“But when did you talk to him?” Harry asked, sitting up straighter.

“Last night, right after I spoke with you in the infirmary.”

“Remus!” Harry exclaimed. “I didn’t think you were going to go barging in on him. It was the middle of the night!” Harry said in exasperation.

“That’s exactly what Severus said,” Remus said, chuckling.

“What did you say to him?” Harry demanded, suddenly very nervous. He winced a bit as his question came out more abruptly then he’d intended. “Sorry,” he said quickly, hoping Remus wouldn’t pause to scold him.

Remus just shook his head, still looking highly amused at Harry’s near-panic. “Harry, calm down. I simply told him you were upset.”

Harry stared at him. “Why?” he wanted to know.

Remus sighed. “I couldn’t very well just threaten to hex him into oblivion if he didn’t stop being an arse, without some explanation. That is what you wanted me to say, right?” Remus was smiling again.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t actually want you say that, you know.”

“You didn’t?” Remus asked innocently and when Harry looked alarmed, Remus smiled.

Harry scowled at the man and groused, “You said you were just going to tell him to leave me alone.”

“And so I did. He didn’t take kindly to my request.”

“He didn’t?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Harry,” Remus said gently as he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Severus has had very little experience in caring for other people. I gather from what little Lily told me, that even then, when it was obvious how much Lily cared for Severus, he did not return those feelings easily.”

Harry tilted his head as he tried to process Remus’ confusing words. “I don’t think I understand,” he admitted slowly.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I do believe Severus is capable of caring about you, but I don’t know that he’s capable of demonstrating that to you.”

Harry clenched his fists. “What do you expect me to do then? Just sit around and listen to him insult me?” Harry asked angrily.

Remus raised his eyebrows, giving Harry a look. “I don’t expect you to do anything, Harry. It would help though if you’d try to keep better control of your temper,” he suggested.

Harry folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the slight rebuke. “Right, Remus. And Snape is sure to notice, as he’s basically just one giant temper tantrum.”

Remus laughed and shook his head at Harry’s imagery. “You’re right about that.” He sobered quickly though and asked seriously, “Why did you ask if I’d talked to him?”

Harry frowned. “He came to the Hospital Wing again this morning to give me the last dose of Ossifying Potion. He was…odd.”

“Odd?”

“Yeah,” Harry said thoughtfully. “It seemed like he was being really careful about what he was saying, but he wasn’t exactly nice either.” He looked at Remus quizzically as though he expected the older man to be able to explain the other Professor.

“As I said before, I think Severus is trying but he’s a bit rusty.”

Harry nodded. “And pleasant is not exactly one of his favorite moods, is it?” he mused.

“No,” Remus chuckled in agreement, “it’s not.”

------

Harry didn’t see Snape again until Potions the next day. He felt the same nervous butterflies as he had the last time. As was becoming routine, Harry set up the cauldron while Malfoy set out his ingredients; the Slytherin seemed to prefer to use his own supplies. Harry didn’t bother to argue.

Harry was so engrossed in watching Malfoy meticulously sorting through and lining up his ingredients that he didn’t notice when Snape came in. He was startled by the Professor’s voice as he snapped out, “Weasley! Are you planning to force Ms. Parkinson to do all your work today?”

Harry’s head snapped around to look at Ron, who was glaring at the Potions Master. “No, sir,” his friend said, his voice barely containing his annoyance.

“Excellent,” Snape drawled, “then stop sitting there, gaping like a Mountain Troll and get out your materials.”

Harry watched Ron grit his teeth and resentfully begin taking his things out of his bag. Snape turned around and glared around the classroom.

“I trust everyone else is prepared?”

Harry bit his lip. Surely Snape would notice that none of Harry’s own ingredients were out. He braced himself for it, but although Snape made brief eye contact with Harry and with Malfoy as well, he didn’t comment on the way they had divided their work. He turned instead to face the class at the front of the room.

“I believe you have an essay due today.” Snape looked at his students expectantly and after a second, those whose parchments were not already on their desks, hurried to retrieve them from their bags until every desk had a roll of parchment on top of it. Snape waved his wand and the essays rose off the desks and flew together to the front of the room to land in a neat pile on Snape’s desk.

“Ossifying Potion,” Snape began in a bored voice and spent the next 10 minutes lecturing the class on the finer points of “the brewing thereof” then with a fearsome glare, he ordered the students to begin.

Harry lit his cauldron, thinking how mellow Snape seemed today…well, mellow for Snape anyway. When Harry looked up to find Malfoy watching him adjust the flames, Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly although he had no idea what he was expecting. Malfoy raised his pale brows but said nothing. Remembering suddenly Dumbledore’s departing words the other day in this very classroom, Harry asked quickly, “What’s with you, Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s grey eyes registered his surprise but then he answered smoothly, “I have no idea what you mean, Potter.” Harry grinned at the other boy’s snide tone. Now that was the Malfoy he had grown to know and despise.

“Sure, you don’t. You’ve been acting half-way decent for a change,” Harry informed him.

“Why thank you,” Malfoy said in a lilting voice and then began grinding his dried eel’s stomach, effectively turning his back to Harry.

Harry wished he could make a face at the infuriating Slytherin but decided it would be too childish, so he checked the ingredients list in his text and began working.

“You’re slicing it the wrong way.”

Harry looked up. Malfoy was staring critically at the knife in Harry’s hand. “What are you talking about, Malfoy? They’re diagonal cuts, just like it says in the book,” he protested.

“Please, Potter. Can’t you read? It clearly says ‘cut the root at a forty-five degree angle. You’re slicing at a sixty degree angle, at least,” Malfoy informed him, looking extremely put out.

“Oh, did it say forty-five?” Irritated, Harry pretended to peer interestedly at his book. “Don’t know how I missed that,” he drawled, feigning concern. Then, he glared at Malfoy. “Just do it yourself,” he snapped when Malfoy stared at him, nonplussed.

“Merlin, Potter, you do have a temper,” the other boy sniffed and began slicing another root, presumably at a precise forty-five degree angle.

“Problem, gentlemen?” Snape’s dark shadow loomed over their cauldron and both boys snapped their heads up, though there was not a trace of unease on Malfoy’s face. Harry on the other hand, felt ice form in the pit of his stomach. Here it was, then.

“Potter was just having trouble reading, sir. But don’t worry, I set him straight.” Snape’s black eyes narrowed into thin slits and Harry wondered why Snape was directing his livid glare at the Slytherin. But then Snape’s eyes trained on Harry and Harry forced himself to stay calm.

“Excellent work, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points.” Harry blinked up at him. Snape moved on to the next pair without another word.

“Thanks, Potter,” Malfoy said, sounding so gleeful that Harry wanted to sick up all over the Slytherin’s expensive robes.

Harry ignored Malfoy for the rest of class, even to the point of refusing to hand the other boy ingredients that were on Harry’s side of the table. Malfoy though seemed genuinely unaware of Harry’s silent treatment, shrugging whenever Harry made no move to hand him something, and then reaching across Harry to get it himself. Harry knew very well that he was being childish, but this time he didn’t care.

Class ended much too slowly for Harry’s tastes and he was very relieved when Snape stopped pacing near Harry’s table and ordered the class to bottle their potions. Harry leaned over his cauldron, intending to do as instructed but his leg caught on his chair and he lurched forward, stumbling gracelessly into Snape. Snape reached for Harry’s wrist, automatically it seemed, to steady him.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry rushed to mumble but Snape didn’t appear to hear him. He was staring at Harry’s hand. With a jerking motion, Harry yanked his hand out of Snape’s grip, making him stumble again, this time knocking into his cauldron. Malfoy yelped as the contents splashed to the floor. There was utter silence as the metal cauldron clanged loudly against the dungeon’s stone floor.

Harry’s face flamed with mortification as everyone stared at him and then almost as a collective force they turned to Snape, waiting for the explosion. The Potions Master didn’t disappoint. With an angry swipe of his wand, the mess on the floor vanished and Snape snapped, “Pick up your cauldron!”

Harry quickly obeyed, up righting the pewter cauldron and hefting it back onto the table. For some reason, that made Malfoy laugh.

“Everyone else...out!” The other students scrambled to obey, packing up bags and rushing vials of their Ossifying Potion onto Snape’s desk.

“But Professor, what about my potion?” Malfoy asked indignantly.

“Out, Malfoy!” Harry cringed at the near-roar from the Professor. Malfoy raised his brows, clearly not appreciative of Snape’s tone and with a huff he followed his classmates out of the room.

As soon as the last student stepped over the threshold, Snape slammed the door and added his Charms before turning to Harry. Harry, remembering exactly how things had played out the last time they had both been in this room, backed up a few paces away from Snape’s wrath.

“Give me your hand,” Snape ordered as soon as he’d turned around.

“What?” Harry asked, confusion coating his voice. Losing his patience, Snape stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, turning it so that the scar was clearly visible. “It’s nothing, sir,” Harry insisted quickly, trying to pull his hand away but Snape held him firmly.

“How did you get this?” Snape demanded harshly, ignoring Harry’s words. “Did Umbridge do this to you?” he asked, his voice a dangerously low hiss when Harry stayed silent.

Harry nodded quickly, hoping Snape would just let go of him. He didn’t like the way the Potions Master was peering at him, as if he would like to systematically harvest all of his organs and bottle them one by one for storage in his office.

“You did not think to tell someone?” Snape asked sharply, his tone clearly indicating that even a simpleton should have known to do at least that much.

“Who was I going to tell? My parents?” Harry returned sarcastically. And then realizing who he was talking to, Harry looked away. Snape’s grip tightened on his hand as if in some sort of spasm and then Snape’s hold loosened.

Harry started to pull his hand away from the Professor and was taken aback when he felt a rough warmth against the scarred flesh. He looked down at his hand and watched, stunned, as Snape brushed his thumb lightly across the words, ‘I will not tell lies’. Harry stared up at his Professor. Snape lifted his head and Harry thought he glimpsed pain deep in the shadowed eyes.

“How many times did she do this?” Snape’s voice was strained.

Harry swallowed. “Just a few times,” he answered, keeping his answer deliberately vague.

Snape abruptly dropped Harry’s hand. “A scar from a blood quill cannot be magically removed,” he said, sounding much more the Professor than a moment before.

“What’s one more scar?” Harry shrugged.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “I did not realize you felt so apathetic about the Dark Lord’s scar.”

“I’m not apathetic,” Harry told him stiffly. “I’ve lived with it for fifteen years though. Umbridge’s is just one more thing to add to the list…no big deal,” he added with another shrug.

Snape worked his jaw a few times. “Torture of students is most certainly a ‘big deal’, and you should not claim otherwise,” the man told him coldly.

“Yeah, well…there’s more than one way to torture students, you know.” Harry wasn’t sure why he had said it, but he regretted it almost instantly as he watched Snape’s face pale slightly and then clench up in anger before smoothing into placid lines once again.

“Unless you want a failing grade on today’s potion, I suggest you get started on brewing a new one,” was all Snape said, his tone absolutely bland.

Harry stared at him. “You want me to brew another potion?” he asked, perplexed. When had the Potions Master ever allowed anyone another chance?

Snape looked down at him, no expression on his face as he answered, “You may do as you wish.”

“Okay,” Harry finally agreed and turned back to light his cauldron. He heard Snape’s robes swishing and Harry glanced up furtively to watch the Professor as he walked over to his desk. Having no idea what compelled him, he said quietly, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Snape turned slowly, his midnight robes sweeping across the stones, reminding Harry with a shiver, of the gently slithering motion of a snake. Snape stared at him for a protracted minute, and then said, “Do not apologize for speaking the truth.” His voice was completely unfeeling, but Harry remembered Remus’ words and recognized this as perhaps one of the times that Snape wanted to express some emotion but couldn’t. Harry felt a rush of pity for the Potions Master, but tried to hide it.

“Not all truths need to be said, sir.”

“I see you’ve been taking lessons with the Headmaster,” Snape replied after a pause. Harry stared. Had Snape just made a joke? Snape favored Harry with a slightly raised eyebrow and then turned back to his desk. Harry stared at him for a long time before starting his second Ossifying Potion of the afternoon.

1996

I’m Sorry, sir…

Severus sifted Harry’s words through his mind as he read Weasley’s abysmal essay. How could the boy use those words so easily…so freely? Harry hadn’t seemed at all uncomfortable as he’d apologized. And there had been no reason for him to apologize at all. Harry had only spoken the truth; Severus had tortured him for years.

It seemed Harry shared Lily’s forgiving nature and Severus felt the same flicker of hope as he had the day they had used the Filial Potion; perhaps Harry could find a way to forgive him. Albus had tried to tell Severus many times that Harry had an incredible capacity to love, to which the Potions Master had scoffed. The notion that the son of a treacherous Gryffindor could be anything more than a self-centered, attention-seeking little brat had been nothing short of absurdity.

But Harry Potter wasn’t the son of a treacherous Gryffindor. There hadn’t even been a treacherous Gryffindor, save Pettigrew. Potter had not betrayed him. James had kept their newly-forged friendship close, even if only to save the boy who he had loved almost as dearly as Severus had himself.

He had loved the boy once, he told himself firmly, but he did not now how to love Harry again. But Severus owed it to Lily to at least try to explain it to her son. His fist clenched against Weasley’s parchment; how had he ever treated Lily’s son with anything less than kindness?

There was movement in Severus’ peripheral vision and his eyes strayed over to Harry’s table but the boy was walking toward the classroom storage closet. His steps seemed uncertain as though he was afraid Severus would snap at him for leaving his seat. Severus closed his eyes, irritated. Why must he be so hesitant? Wasn’t he supposed to be the very courage prized so highly by his fellow Gryffindors?

“Professor?”

Severus’ eyes snapped open and he growled, “What?” He watched Harry shrinking back a step and then drawing himself up.

“You’re out of Essence of Clover,” the boy said, barely retaining a civil tone and Severus had to bite back the rebuke that rose to his lips out of habit.

Severus waved his wand and a flask materialized in his hand. He set it on the edge of his desk and offered, “You may use that.” At the unspoken question in Harry’s eyes, Severus explained, “From my personal stores.”

Harry nodded and came forward to take the potion. He picked it up quickly, clamping his fingers around, his eyes on Severus and then he blurted in one breath, “Dumbledore told me to ask you about Malfoy.”

Keeping his face absolutely controlled, Severus inwardly fumed at the Headmaster. “What about Mr. Malfoy?” Severus asked, giving away nothing. Harry narrowed his eyes; Severus didn’t enjoy the scrutiny. “You have something to say, Mr. Potter?” And inexplicably, the boy smiled. Severus pursed his lips and waited with ill-concealed impatience for Harry to speak.

“I’m guessing you have something to do with how strange he’s been acting,” Harry said, the hint of a smile still about his lips.

“I have not noticed anything out of the ordinary regarding Mr. Malfoy,” Severus lied, carefully keeping his tone neutral. Harry’s small smile turned into a smirk, though Severus could find nothing amusing about his answer.

“Right. And you just happened to pair Malfoy and me together?” Harry asked, his head tilting in a way reminiscent of Lily when she had been pondering a problem.

“I believe you heard my reason the first day of class. Although, as I recall, you were sleeping at the beginning of class,” Severus drawled.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Harry denied indignantly, his fists clenching.

The boy was too sensitive and Severus had to stop himself from sneering as much to him. Instead, Severus said lightly, “It appears Mr. Malfoy was correct…you do have a temper,” He was quite taken aback when Harry turned on his heel and marched back over to his table. Harry measured out two dropper-fuls of the Essence of Clover and poured it into the cauldron. The Potions Master listened as the Essence splashed against the liquid in the cauldron, gently breaking the surface, his mind working over his last words to Harry.

Pointedly ignoring the image of Lily urging him to press the issue, Severus turned back to the Weasley boy’s essay and began marking it in earnest. He continued steadily through the pile of parchment and didn’t look up again until Harry spoke in a stilted voice, “I’m done, sir.”

Severus peered at him, changing his thoughts from Ms. Granger’s overly verbose essay to Harry’s stiff posture. He narrowed his eyes.

“Bottle it, and bring it my desk,” he ordered, his voice harsher than he had intended, but sod the boy…so easily hurt.

“Yes, sir,” Harry intoned, following Severus’ instruction. He set the little vial with the others without a word and went back to his table, beginning to pack up his things.

“I did not dismiss you,” Severus interrupted, halting Harry’s movements. The boy looked up at him resentfully and Severus scowled in annoyance; Harry’s disrespect bothered him more than it should.

“May I go, sir?” Harry asked him stiffly, looking off to Severus’ side as he spoke.

“You may,” Severus snapped, suddenly forgetting his earlier resolve not to leave the boy emotionally unhinged, as it seemed now Harry was.

Harry’s jaw clenched, his chin trembling slightly and Severus was reminded swiftly of himself. He recognized that his son was trying to hold in his temper, and having little success. Finally Harry said in a rough voice, “I don’t know if Remus was right or not--”

Severus glared at the boy. “What did Lupin say?” he interrupted sharply.

Harry sighed and slumped a little. “It doesn’t matter. Just forget it.”

Severus willed himself to calm, stilling the pressure on the quill in his hand before he could snap it in two. “I would prefer that you tell me,” he said, keeping his features smooth, his tone just short of demanding.

Harry squinted at the Potions Master, assessing him before shrugging slightly, but Severus was not fooled by the boy’s feigned indifference. “He said you were trying.”

Severus recognized the inaccuracy in Harry’s explanation instantly, but he didn’t call the boy on it…a discussion on honesty could wait. “What exactly did he say I was trying to do?” Severus asked, genuinely curious.

Harry shifted from foot to foot and Severus almost smiled at the childish display of nerves. “To get along with me?” the boy answered, very quietly.

Severus raised a brow at the boy. “Is that a question or an answer, Mr. Potter?” Again Harry’s mouth lifted in that same almost-hidden smile.

Then he shrugged, a disagreeable habit that Severus felt inclined to break the boy of. “An answer,” Harry decided with more confidence, no longer shifting nervously.

“Lupin, though it galls to me to admit it…is correct.”

Wide green eyes stared up at him. “He is?”

“It surprises you?” The Potions Master asked darkly. How much more of display was the boy expecting of him?

Harry quickly shook his head. “No sir.”

“If you hope to destroy the Dark Lord, we will need to improve your ability to lie,” Severus told the boy disapprovingly. He was confused when Harry smiled slowly. The smile quickly faded though as Severus frowned, trying to decipher the boy’s mood. He was beginning to think that Harry outshined even his Slytherins with his wide range of unpredictable mood swings. “It is almost time for dinner. Perhaps you had better be on your way,” Severus said curtly, wishing to change the subject.

Harry nodded, although Severus noted he looked disappointed; the thought unsettled him. Severus didn’t have time though to ponder it further as he suddenly felt the slight twinge of the Dark Mark flaring on his forearm. He glanced down at his left arm in some surprise; he had not been expecting a summons tonight. Severus pushed his chair back and stood up quickly. Harry was watching him warily. Realizing he probably looked quite angry, Severus immediately forced his face into a mask of calm.

“I am being summoned. I must go,” Severus explained. Something unidentifiable flashed across the boy’s face.

“Voldemort?” he asked, his voice tense.

Severus nodded. He hesitated and had to force himself to speak; it made his tone brusque. “It would be best for you to go straight to your dormitory as soon as dinner concludes.”

Harry looked surprised and he objected quickly, “But I have plans…” His voice trailed off and he looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Plans?” Severus repeated ominously but Harry was shaking his head vigorously.

“Erm…it’s nothing, sir.”

“Then you will return to the tower after dinner.” This time, Severus made it clear it was not a request.

Harry worked his jaw for a few seconds and then nodded. “Yes sir.”

Severus nodded once as he undid the locking spells on his door. The large door swung open.

Harry glanced at the door and then back at Severus. He straightened his shoulders a bit and said in a rush, “Be careful, sir.”

Severus’ mind reeled back to Lily. Back to her words, her voice as she tried to conceal the fearful tremble each time Severus Apparated away from her and toward the Dark Lord’s summons. Be Careful, Sev…

Pushing down the myriad emotions roiling inside him, Severus inclined his head. “I will,” he agreed, as he had so many times to the boy’s mother. And then, remembering that he was reassuring Harry instead of Lily, he said gruffly, “Go, now.”

Harry looked oddly relieved before he turned and quickly left the classroom. Severus Occluded his mind, systematically eliminating all thoughts of Harry Potter. He went into the privacy of his Office. He called Minerva to inform her that he would be leaving and quickly left through his Floo.

Severus stepped out moments later into a formal sitting room.

“Severus, we must hurry,” a man’s deep voice told him impatiently.

“My apologies, Lucius. I was in a meeting.” Lucius nodded quickly, gesturing with his silver-topped can for Severus to move forward into his parlour. The two men prepared, cloaking themselves in their Death Eater regalia and without another word and one quick movement, they were Apparating toward the Dark Lord.

------

Harry, with hurried steps, made his way to the Great Hall. Students were already gathered at the long tables, talking and laughing around the delicious food prepared by the house-elves. He waved at Remus, who was eyeing him from the Head Table as he made his way to his friends. Harry gave Ron a light shove on the shoulder and his friend obligingly scooted over for him.

Hermione peered over at Harry from the around the other side of Ron. “Have you been with Snape all this time?” she asked, her face screwed up in concern.

Harry nodded while he piled food on his plate. “Yep. I had to re-brew the Ossifying Potion,” he explained, making a face.

“He let you re-brew it?” Seamus asked from across the table, looking quite shocked with his fork poised halfway to his mouth.

Harry cringed. He had forgotten how out of character that would seem to the other Gryffindors. He scrambled for a believable lie. “Erm, well…I kind of told him I’d tell Dumbledore I need remedial Potions again this term if he gave me a zero.” Harry squirmed at the ridiculousness of the lie, but Seamus chuckled and Harry was certain the other boy found the idea of threatening the snarky Potions Master hilarious. Harry sighed with quiet relief and began eating, making a silent pledge not to even mention Snape again except to Ron and Hermione…and Ginny.

“Shite,” Harry said softly and glanced down the table, searching for the pretty redhead. She was sitting in between two fifth year girls and when Harry caught her eye, she smiled. The other two girls erupted in a fit of giggles and Harry quickly turned back to this plate.

“What’s up, mate?” Ron asked him quietly, having followed Harry’s glance.

Harry shook his head and mouthed, “Later.” Ron nodded his understanding as he kept shoveling food in his mouth. Harry smiled slightly at his friend’s never-satisfied appetite. He caught Hermione’s eye; she shook her head in apparent agreement.

Hermione and Harry were finished long before Ron was ready. Hermione finally huffed at Ron to finish and stuffing several small tarts in his mouth, he complied.

“We’ll see you later, Harry,” Hermione said with a mischievous smile and a glance toward Ginny.

“See ‘a ‘arry,” Ron mumbled through his tarts, and Harry watched his two friends leave the Great Hall together, Hermione scolding his mate for talking with his mouth full.

The two giggling girls had gone by then and Ginny was gathering her bag as Harry stood up. He walked toward her, the muscles in his stomach clenching nervously as he got closer.

“Hi,” Ginny said when he had reached her.

“Hi, Gin,” he returned, grinning happily despite the feelings gnawing on his insides.

“Ready?” she asked as she closed her bag.

“Uh, Ginny, I have to tell you something…in private,” he added hastily when Ginny looked at him expectantly.

“Sure, Harry. We can talk in the library,” she said as she turned to go, but Harry grabbed her hand without thinking and Ginny turned around again, a question in her soft brown eyes. “What’s wrong, Harry? Breaking our date?” she asked teasingly and Harry shook his head.

“Not exactly, but we can’t go to the library,” he told her, feeling distinctly uncomfortable for even bothering to follow Snape’s instructions. He had a feeling though that somehow the man would find out if Harry ignored the clear command.

“Why not?” Ginny asked, surprised.

“Can we go up to the tower and I’ll explain?”

“All right,” Ginny agreed easily and Harry felt a renewed rush of warmth for her. Harry still hadn’t let go of her hand and since Ginny didn’t seem to have any particular plans to pull away from him, Harry continued to hold her small hand lightly in his own. Ginny gave him a little tug and Harry obediently followed her. Feeling a bit like Ron, being dragged along, Harry closed the distance between them and they were walking side by side. Ginny smiled again and the pixies in Harry’s stomach fluttered.

“Does this have to do with your being with Snape for two hours?” she asked as they walked.

“A bit,” Harry answered as they climbed the enchanted staircases which were particularly moody; he and Ginny had to change directions about a dozen times before they finally made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady, leaving them short of breath and very few chances for conversation.

“Periculosus,” Ginny said when the Fat Lady asked for the password.

“Thank you.”

The portrait swung open and Harry gestured for Ginny to go first. He followed her into the common room; there were a few students by the fire and Harry stood near the portrait hole, unsure of what to do. Ginny solved the problem immediately.

“Should we go up to your room?” she asked and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. There had been very few girls up there, save Hermione and once a fifth year Ravenclaw who had dated Seamus briefly last year. But since they couldn’t talk freely around the students in the common room, it did make sense. So Harry nodded and led the way up the stairs. He pushed open the door at the top of stairs, hoping fervently that none of his bunkmates were in there. It was empty.

Again Harry stood uncertainly as they entered. Ginny continued walking right past him and plopped herself firmly on his bed, leaning back on her palms and tilting her head slightly to look at him. Harry’s face flushed and he had to force his eyes up toward her face. She smirked and Harry, encouraged by her obvious comfort, moved over to the bed and hopped up next to her, positioning himself so that he was facing her. Ginny moved a bit as well, angling her body toward his.

Once they were comfortably settled on Harry’s bed, he told Ginny quickly about what had happened after Potions, especially about the Dark Mark and Snape telling him to stay in the tower. When he’d finished, Ginny looked thoughtful.

“It makes sense, I suppose,” she mused. “But, no one has ever told you to stay inside the castle during a Death Eater meeting, have they?”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, not having considered that yet. “What do you think it means?” he wondered, only half wanting an answer.

“Well…Dumbledore’s not here so he wouldn’t be able to protect you--” but Harry was shaking his head and Ginny raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

“That’s not it. Dumbledore told me when he brought me to your house this summer that the castle would be guarded by Aurors this year. And anyway, Remus is here…if there’s really any danger,” he finished, shrugging.

Ginny pursed her lips and Harry wondered if she was annoyed at his dismissal of her theory. “Maybe he was just worried about you, then,” she said, her voice even more thoughtful than it had been a minute ago.

“Snape?” Harry scoffed, but Ginny frowned at him.

“Harry,” she admonished, “how long are you going to refuse to believe that he might be able to care for you? It sounds exactly like something Snape would do…acting like a prat and ordering you abruptly to stay in your dorm without any explanations. The Professor is completely incapable of showing emotions.” She sounded frustrated and Harry furrowed his brow, not sure who Ginny’s frustration was aimed at.

“You sound like Remus, you know,” he teased her, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

Ginny grinned, “Good,” she said smartly and Harry enjoyed the way her mouth curved delicately upward, but then Ginny’s face clouded again with concentration. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said, shaking her head so that her ginger hair swirled around her shoulders.

“What doesn’t?” Harry questioned, following the movements of her hair.

Ginny didn’t seem to notice his distraction as she answered, “You said Snape didn’t seem to be in pain from the mark, right?” Harry nodded, confused. “Do you suppose your mum did that…with her Charm?”

Harry narrowed his eyes in absorption and slowly nodded. “I suppose so. It makes sense that she wouldn’t want Snape to be in pain, I guess.”

Ginny was shaking her head again though. “No, it doesn’t. I mean, it does of course, but what real use is that?”

Catching on, Harry quickly added, “Snape doesn’t seem the sort to be scared of a little pain.” He tilted his head, trying to sort it out. “Dumbledore said mum made the Charm to give Voldemort less power over Snape…”

Ginny nodded, her eyes excited all of a sudden. “Taking away the pain wouldn’t take away any of his power, though. It must have been something else. What do you think it is, Harry?”

Ginny’s brown eyes were shining as she looked at him expectantly and a new emotion clogged Harry’s throat so he couldn’t answer her. A kind of warmth washed across Ginny’s face and she pulled her body slightly closer to Harry’s on the bed. Harry sat, unable to move except that his head, like some sort of magnet, was drawing closer to Ginny and she too was leaning toward him.

Without words, Harry found Ginny’s lips and suddenly Ginny’s arms were around Harry’s neck, pressing herself to his chest. In one smooth motion, Harry had his hands on Ginny’s back and he was gathering her closer, pulling her lips urgently to his own. Ginny responded, opening her full lips slightly and they were lost in each other.

After several long minutes, they finally pulled slightly apart; Harry slid his hands a bit until they were resting lightly on Ginny’s hips and Ginny, with a sigh leaned her head against his shoulder and Harry grinned. He felt light again, as though some of his festering wounds were healing as he sat there, with this girl in his arms.

More minutes passed in silence until Ginny drew herself up and asked him, “Do you know how many years you’ve made me wait for this?”

Harry grinned at her pretended look of annoyance. “Five?” he guessed and she laughed.

“At least,” she answered breezily.

They turned together as the door opened. Two pairs of eyes gaped back at them. Hermione was the first to find her voice. “We thought you were in the library.”

Harry tried to explain but Ron burst out, “Girls aren’t allowed in here, Ginny!”

Ginny gave him a sly look. “And just what is Hermione doing in here, then?” she asked sweetly.

Ron and Hermione both blushed profusely which made Ginny break out in laughter. “Well, it’s about time!” she exclaimed when she caught her breath again.

Harry frowned as he looked back and forth between his two best friends. Ron was staring down at his shoes while Hermione twisted her fingers nervously together. “Hey,” he said in annoyance, “were you two ever planning on sharing this bit of news?”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said, narrowing his eyes, “about as soon as you were going tell us you were snogging my sister.”

Since some of his limbs were still intertwined with Ginny’s on his bed, Harry couldn’t very well deny the accusation so he shrugged. The man had a point, though Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit put out that Ron hadn’t told him about Hermione though it was Ron and he probably hadn’t even realized what he was feeling.

“We weren’t keeping it from you, Harry, honest,” Hermione told him, guessing Harry’s train of thought.

Ron looked suddenly very uncomfortable. “Right, Harry. It wasn’t a secret or anything. We went for a walk after dinner…I mean, it only just...” He trailed off as Harry began shaking his head.

“I’m not upset, Ron. I’m not that sensitive, you know,” he told them both indignantly as they were giving him skeptical looks. “I’m not,” he insisted to which Ron finally shrugged in acquiescence though Hermione didn’t look convinced.

They sat on Ron’s bed, both of them leaning forward on their hands. “Why aren’t you in the library though?” Hermione asked again. Harry related the whole tale, with Ginny chiming in about Snape’s Mark and the Charm and by the time they had finished, Harry still hadn’t come to any likely conclusions.

------

Severus stumbled gracelessly out of the Floo and into the Malfoy's parlour. He felt Narcissa’s cold hand guiding him by the elbow into one of her chairs. Severus took many deep breaths before he felt stable enough to look up. Lucius was slumped in a matching chair, looking quite a bit paler than Severus probably did. Narcissa was hovering over her husband with a vial of amber potion.

Narcissa gently coaxed the liquid into her husband’s mouth, helping him to swallow. She moved next to Severus, who by that time was feeling well enough to take an identical vial and sip the potion with his own hand. Narcissa only nodded approval before moving back to stand at Lucius’ side.

Severus watched Lucius taking several deep breaths of his own. As her husband came back to himself, Narcissa called for one of their house-elves and demanded a tea service be brought into the parlor at once. The house-elf complied, pouring steaming cups for all three. Severus sipped his tea slowly, waiting for Narcissa to begin her questions.

“Draco?” she asked finally, her voice strained and unusually unpolished.

With something more like a moan than a sigh, Lucius nodded. “The Dark Lord asked for a report of Draco’s progress.”

“Severus?” Narcissa asked, her voice ringing with anxiety.

“There was nothing to report. Draco has been constantly surrounded by friends and Albus has been away, as you know.” Severus watched Narcissa wringing her hands as she stood near her husband, whose steady shaking was only just beginning to subside. The torture had been some of the harshest Severus had ever received from the Dark Lord’s hand though he realized that was not the case for Lucius.

He, along with the other Death Eaters who had lost the Dark Lord his prophecy, had suffered incalculably. In fact, it seemed to Severus that Lucius had not fully gotten over the horrors of that particular evening.

“Narcissa,” Severus said to the frail woman, as gently as he could manage, “Draco remains protected as long as he does not stray outside of Hogwarts.” Narcissa nodded jerkily, though she hardly looked placated; Severus had never seen her so pale.

“Draco will not be harmed,” Lucius assured his wife, pulling himself into a more appropriate posture. Severus nodded once at Narcissa, having clearly heard the underlying threat in Lucius voice, though Severus had to the question the intelligence of threatening the one charged to protect the first’s progeny.

“Eventually though, Lucius, Draco will fail. The Dark Lord will not excuse it simply because Dumbledore hasn’t been in the castle.” Narcissa’s voice was shaking with her distress.

“No. He will not. We will end this before any of that makes any difference,” Severus told her quietly and both Malfoys studied him with uncertain eyes.

“And Potter?” Lucius demanded, his attitude a sign that his strength had returned.

“Potter has no more wish than you to see the Dark Lord succeed,” Severus told him calmly.

“But, he hates my Draco!” Narcissa, by this point, in direct opposition to her husband was becoming quite hysterical and Lucius patted her milky hand distractedly.

“That is an overstatement, Narcissa,” Severus assured her. “I am however, working on a solution to that problem as well,” Severus told her smoothly.

“Yes, yes,” she murmured and moved to sit delicately on the sofa, signaling to Severus that she was regaining her familiar deportment. Relieved, he set his teacup on the delicate plate and rose from the chair.

“I must take my leave,” he said politely and now completely composed, Narcissa stood as well. “Goodnight Lucius…Narcissa.” Lucius nodded his farewell and his wife escorted Severus back to the fireplace as Severus gathered his cloak around himself.

“Take care of him, Severus.” Her voice was again pleading as Severus prepared to step into the Floo. He nodded. There was no other choice.

1996

“Crucio,” Harry said in a bored voice.The tall Death Eater clutched at his middle and fell to his knees in the dirt, one hand struggling to hold him up. A low, agonized moan escaped the Death Eater’s lips as his body began to convulse. His mask slipped off with the force of his tremors, and a sweep of black hair brushed against the ground.

Snape!

Harry jolted himself awake, his face bathed in sweat as he tried to steady his ragged breathing. He wiped a clammy hand across his eyes and pushed himself up, trying without much success to disentangle his legs from his damp sheets. Harry took another shallow breath and grimaced. It was just a dream, he tried to convince himself, but it had been too much like the visions he had taken from Voldemort’s mind last year. Just like in those, Harry had been Voldemort tonight, calmly torturing Snape.

Harry scrabbled in the darkness for his glasses, panic beginning to settle over him. Was Snape being tortured right now? Or was this another trick by Voldemort? But, if it was a trick, then Voldemort had to know that Snape was his father, didn’t he? Harry’s stomach turned to ice.

He had to warn somebody. If Voldemort was reaching out to him again, he and Snape were both in danger.

Without taking any more time to think through his decision, Harry slid quietly out of his bed and tiptoed over to his trunk. Wincing at the slight squeak as he opened the lid, Harry quickly lit the end of his wand and waved it over the contents of the trunk. Finding his cloak easily, as well as the Marauder’s Map, he brought the large cloak over his head and hurried out of Gryffindor Tower.

Nobody, except a few ghosts, was about the castle at such an unlikely hour, and Harry made his way without any interruptions to Remus’ quarters. Though Harry had never been down there, Remus had given him detailed directions on how to get to his quarters after Harry had asked yesterday if he would mind an occasional visit. As Harry reached the portrait guarding the door, he wondered briefly if Remus had intended for him to come barging in at all hours of the night.

He didn’t spare much thought for Remus’ possible reaction, though, as he quickly whispered, “Harry Potter. Turbatio.” The large silver wolf blinked at Harry once before tilting its muzzle toward the tiny moon painted on the canvas sky and howled softly. The wolf stopped abruptly and tilted its head as though listening to something, then the portrait swung forward. Harry stepped through quickly to find Remus clutching a blue dressing gown around his waist, looking very anxious.

Harry whipped the cloak off, and Remus drew in a sharp breath. “Harry?” And then, in a voice that sounded a sight more vexed, Remus demanded, “What are you doing wandering around the castle at this time of night?”

“I think Voldemort is trying to reach through my mind again,” Harry blurted, “and he’s torturing Snape!”

“What’s this about You Know Who and Snape?” a woman’s voice asked. Harry’s mouth fell open; unable to stop himself from staring at the bluish-haired woman.

“Tonks?”

She was coming out of Remus’ bedroom, adjusting her own dressing gown, which Harry noticed was the same azure color as her short hair—and Remus’ dressing gown. The heat rose in his cheeks as he realized what he had obviously interrupted, and he began stammering an apology to Remus; Remus waved it away impatiently, and taking Harry firmly by the arm, the older man steered him toward a chair.

“Harry,” Remus said in exasperation as he looked Harry over, “you must be freezing!”

Harry glanced down and realized that, in his haste, he had neglected even to put on socks. He shrugged. “S’all right,” he told Remus, but his friend shook his head and Summoned a pair of brown socks from his bedroom. Harry put them on gratefully then tucked his hands under his thighs; he was suddenly very cold.

Tonks perched herself on the arm of the sofa across from Harry and looked between the two men. “What happened, Harry?”

“Erm,” Harry stammered uncertainly, and then looked up at Remus, who was watching him intently.

Remus seemed to understand Harry’s silent plea. “You had a vision again… the same sort as last year?” he prompted, and Harry realized that Tonks, along with the rest of the Order, had to know about those.

“I think so,” Harry nodded slowly. “I mean, it seemed the same. It was like I was Voldemort again. But this time, Snape was being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse.” Concern flitted across his friend’s face, and Harry knew Remus had come to the same awful conclusion.

“There was a Death Eater meeting tonight, and Snape attended,” Tonks volunteered. “McGonagall told Shacklebolt earlier.”

“Can’t we do something?” Harry asked as an unfamiliar worry clutched at him, though he already knew the answer.

“Harry, even if we could get to wherever Voldemort is, we can’t risk exposing Severus,” Remus said.

“It’s better to just let him die?” Harry demanded, and Remus pursed his lips; Harry understood the warning, and his gaze darted to Tonks. She looked taken aback at Harry’s outburst. After all, it wasn’t exactly common knowledge that he didn’t hate the Potions master anymore.

“Harry, it’s unlikely that the Cruciatus Curse would kill Severus. He’s been able to withstand its effects for years,” Remus told him, in what was probably meant to be a comforting tone; Harry frowned at him.

“It didn’t look like he was doing so well with it tonight,” he retorted.

Remus turned to Tonks and said quietly, “Tonks, if you don’t mind… I need a word with Harry.”

Tonks smiled. “Sure. I have to relieve Shacklebolt in a bit, anyway.” With a wave of her wand, Tonks was dressed in her Auror’s robes, and with another, her messy hair looked a little less like she had just woken up. Tonks tucked her wand into her robes and said congenially, “'Night, Harry. I’ll let Shacklebolt know what you saw, all right?”

Harry nodded, and then he averted his eyes as Tonks kissed Remus loudly on the mouth.

“'Night, Remus,” she said lightly, and with a little wave, she left through the door.

“Tonks?” Harry asked Remus, though he really had no idea why he should be so stunned.

“Harry,” Remus said, turning his full attention back to the boy and pointedly ignoring the question, “I know you’re worried, but you simply have to be more careful with what you say. Even those in the Order can’t know about you and Severus.”

Harry nodded mutely. He knew very well that Remus was right, but he still didn’t enjoy the feeling of Remus scolding him, gently though it was delivered. “Do you think he’s all right?” Harry finally asked miserably, looking up again at Remus through his fringe.

Remus dropped down so he was eye-level with Harry. He placed a hand on Harry’s knee. “Severus has been taking care of himself for years.”

“So have I,” Harry said softly.

“I know it’s not been the best for you or for Severus to have been without each other for all these years,” Remus conceded gently, “but he’s an adult, and Severus knew the consequences when he agreed to take Voldemort’s Mark.”

“He did it for my mum,” Harry objected. “Don’t say it as though he had any choice.” Harry, by this time, had pulled his warmed hands out from under his thighs. He folded his arms over his chest, though it wasn’t strictly a defiant gesture.

Remus sighed and patted Harry’s knee again. “I know why he did it; of course he didn’t have a choice. But even when there is only one choice, there are still consequences… All actions have consequences, Harry.”

“But if Voldemort knows about me, he’ll kill Snape!” Harry erupted, his agitation forcing an abrupt change of subject.

“Harry, we have no way of knowing what’s going on. I think, though, that it might be a good idea for you to stay down here tonight… just in case,” he said quickly as Harry looked at him sharply.

“Just in case? In case Voldemort murders Snape and then comes after me, you mean?” Harry’s voice rose a few octaves in shrill panic, and he had clenched his fists, trying to still the convulsive shaking that began to course through him again. In one quick movement, Remus had Harry in his arms, pulling both of them up to stand.

“Harry,” Remus soothed gently as he held the trembling boy in his strong arms, “it’s all right.” Harry shook his head into Remus’ chest, but otherwise, didn’t disagree. He allowed Remus to hold him for a few more minutes before pulling away in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, but Remus shook his head.

“You don’t need to apologize, Harry. It’s okay to be distressed.” Harry nodded, even though he didn’t really believe the other man. When, after all, had any other adult allowed Harry to express his feelings of worry? Harry shook himself from further dour thoughts and chafed his arms briskly.

“Why don’t you take my bed, Harry?” Remus offered as he noted Harry’s sudden chill. He directed a Freshening Charm, followed by one that Harry sometimes used to make his bed, toward his bedroom.

“That’s okay, Remus,” Harry objected. “You shouldn’t have to sleep out here on the sofa.”

Remus smiled. “Who says I’ll be on a sofa? You know, it really is amazing what a wizard can do with a wand…”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hilarious, Remus.”

“Thank you. Now, why don’t you go to bed?”

“Ron will notice I’m not in my dorm and—”

“I’ll send Professor McGonagall a message, all right?”

Harry acquiesced with a slight nod as he yawned.

Remus smiled again. “Go, Harry,” he urged. Harry obediently turned, feeling suddenly exhausted, though not much of his worry had abated; he turned again to Remus after taking a few steps.

“Do you want to get some blankets first… or a pillow?”

Remus patted his dressing gown pocket. “Amazing wand… remember?” he asked with a smirk.

Harry shook his head at his friend and went through the open bedroom door. The bed was freshly made and looked terribly inviting. Harry made quick work of worming under the covers, but even the bed’s warm comfort did not help him relax. Harry lay awake for a long time, thinking of Snape lying in a tortured heap on a cold dirt ground, before falling into a fitful, dream-filled sleep.

--

The sun woke Harry much too early; he squinted against its harsh light as he struggled back to consciousness. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, remembering as he peered around the room that he had spent the last few hours in Remus’ quarters after rushing down here pell-mell at two o’clock. As the new dampness of his pajama shirt shifted against his skin, Harry remembered with a nervous shudder the nightmare that had propelled him to seek out Remus.

Harry shrugged out of his damp shirt quickly, intending to apply a Drying Spell to it, but the sound of voices from behind the closed door interrupted him.

“There was no need for you to come all the way up here,” came Remus’ surprised voice.

A deeper voice, heavy with annoyance, rumbled in response, “Your message implied it was urgent that you speak with me, Lupin.”

Snape!

Harry grabbed hastily for his glasses, and shoving them onto his nose, he threw the covers back, swung his legs over the bed and hurried out of Remus’ room; Remus’ door opened with a loud and Remus both spun around.

Remus smiled at Harry andSnape’s black eyes widened in shock.

“Harry,” Remus greeted easily. And then Remus was being shoved roughly up against the wall, with Snape’s large hand wrapped in a deadly lock around his neck.

“What is this?” Snape hissed.

Harry, snapping out of his momentary stupor, plunged toward the two men and screamed, “Stop!” Snape’s head twisted toward Harry, but he did not loosen his grip. “Let him go!”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and Harry had no trouble this time identifying the hurt deep within their obsidian depths. Then, with a snarl, Snape abruptly released Remus, flinging him away from him as though he had been contaminated.

Remus stumbled, clutching at his abused throat as he collapsed in a chair. Harry went to him as he fell. “Are you all right, Remus?” he asked. When Remus nodded shakily, Harry rounded on Snape, who was staring at Harry and Remus with adazed look on his face. “What in the bloody hell was that?” Harry shouted.

That seemed to snap Snape out of whatever had flummoxed him. He straightened and said coldly, “Do not shout at me.”

Harry glared at him. “I’ll shout at you anytime I please, Snape! What did you think you were doing? You could have killed him!”

Snape’s face had paled slightly as Harry began, but by the end, he had regained his color and a sneer. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Yes?” Harry echoed, outraged. “What is that supposed to mean?” He was clenching his fists together with so much force that they were beginning to ache.

“Severus...”

Remus was pushing himself out of his chair. He swallowed a few times, but his voice was still raspy as he said quietly, “Harry came to see me after he was woken by what he believes to be Voldemort reaching out to him again. I simply didn’t want him wandering the castle in the middle of the night.” When Snape didn’t respond, Remus said in an even quieter tone, “I slept out here.”

Harry looked between them in confusion, and watched in fascination as Snape closed his eyes briefly and then the familiar mask settled once again over his features.

“Why do you believe the Dark Lord is reaching out to you?” he finally asked Harry.

Harry was still rankled at Snape’s maniacal treatment of Remus andalmost refused to answer. But since he did want to figure out what had happened last night, he unclenched his fists slowly and answered, “It was just like last year. I was Voldemort… seeing things from his perspective.”

“What did you see?”

Harry shifted nervously, and he had to look down before he could answer. “I was torturing you,” he whispered.

“You did not do anything.” Snape’s voice had lost all of its harshness, and Harry looked up quickly in surprise. Snape looked away as he continued, “Can you remember specific details? What was said, descriptions of where I was?”

Harry nodded quickly. “It was the Cruciatus Curse, and you were lying in the dirt.”

Snape was silent for too long before he said curtly, “The Dark Lord was not in contact with you.”

“But how can you know that?” Harry asked, bewildered by the surety in Snape’s tone.

Snape pressed his lips together. “The Cruciatus Curse was not used on me, and at no time during the night did I ‘lie in the dirt’.”

Harry thought he sounded vaguely amused, though it was hard to tell with Snape. What was so amusing about lying face down on the ground, anyway? Harry folded his arms across his chest, and asked, tilting his head in puzzlement, “So… it was just a dream, then?”

Snape nodded without hesitation. Remus was watching the interplay closely, and he cleared his throat slightly, probably still trying to regain some feeling in it, Harry thought with rancor. “I need to get dressed, Harry. Will you be all right?”

Harry hesitated, and Snape interjected with a sneer, “I have managed to be in the same room with him without eviscerating him, Lupin.”

Remus only smiled lightly in response, and with a gentle squeeze to Harry’s shoulder, Remus left them alone. Harry looked everywhere but at Snape, feeling particularly self-conscious and horribly confused.

“As we have been… distracted of late,” Snape began, and Harry had the distinct feeling that the Potions master was feeling at least as uncomfortable as he was, “we did not settle the matter of your Occlumency training.”

Snape was staring at him again, in that way he had of making Harry feel as though the man was about to thoroughly chop and dice him. He shrugged, not really knowing what Snape was expecting of him, and he wasn’t so surprised when the professor’s jaw stiffened. But what Snape said next, did give him a start.

“Would it be acceptable to you, were I to resume your lessons?”

Snape’s voice was flat, without a trace of emotion as he spoke, but Harry was beginning to notice a pattern. Whenever the professor held himself so stiffly, he was inevitably saying something that made Harry’s stomach lurch, though in a way that made him tingle with a nervous half-hope, instead of with dread. It was as if Snape were trying very hard not to show he cared.

Wanting to test his theory, Harry smiled and said smoothly, “Sure,” keeping all of his reservation about Occlumency lessons tightly bottled up.

Harry watched carefully as a light glinted in Snape’s eyes briefly and the professor’s face relaxed a fraction. But then Snape was still again, except for the quick nod of approval. Harry, satisfied at the success of his experiment, allowed himself a grin, though what he really wanted to do was laugh, or maybe shout with joy.

“When should we start?” he asked calmly, ignoring the panic that was warring with his light happiness.

Snape was watching him now, and Harry wondered if Snape could sense his fear, like a wild animal giving in to its instincts. “Tonight. Seven o’clock.”

“Your classroom, sir?”

Snape hesitated, but then nodded. “That will do.”

Again the uncomfortable silence overcame them as they stood in Remus’ sitting room, staring at one another until Remus came out of his bedroom, fully dressed in his teacher’s robes and holding Harry’s now dry pajama shirt in his hand. Harry’s face heated as he realized he was standing in front of both of them, his chest bare.

“Erm… thanks, Remus,” he muttered and hastily replaced his shirt to its proper place. When he was fully clothed again, he glanced up at Snape with eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. “You thought I was in here, with Remus,” he exclaimed incredulously, and his mirth spilled right over his embarrassment; he laughed. Snape pursed his lips, looking decidedly disgruntled. Harry raised his eyebrows as he glanced quickly at Remus and then back again. “I guess your reaction makes sense, then,” he mused, but he bit his lip quickly to end his smirk as Snape stiffened.

“As I recall, I told you to stay in the tower yesterday,” Snape said icily, effectively changing the subject and causing Harry to look down at Remus’ socks.

“Uh…”

In a smug voice, Snape continued, “Perhaps we will discuss your inability to obey instructions before your lesson this evening.”

“But I thought you were being tortured,” Harry objected indignantly.

Snape’s haughty sneer faltered, but then he said smoothly, “Be that as it may, you should not have left your dorm.”

Harry folded his arms across his chest and glared at Snape. The professor glared right back. And as Snape’s glower was eminently more effective, Harry gave up after a minute and sighed. “Fine. Take points if you want,” he said grumpily.

Snape narrowed his eyes slightly and simply said, “I will see you at seven o’clock. Do not forget.” Ignoring Harry’s pointed mumble, Snape swept from the room; the door thudded closed behind him.

“Can you believe that git?” Harry fumed. He turned to Remus, expecting his friend to be nodding in full agreement.

Instead, Remus was frowning at the door in thoughtful concentration. “No, I can’t,” he answered slowly as he rubbed his neck gingerly.

--

Harry was leaning with his back against a tree, with Ginny leaning against him. Contentedly, they both watched the sun setting. Ginny twisted around a bit when Harry sighed into her hair.

“It’ll be fine, Harry,” she told him calmly.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, though his insides felt like they were twisted in knots. “It was brutal last year, Gin,” he confided, the memories making him squirm uncomfortably. Ginny turned fully around to face Harry. She reached a small hand up to run her fingers through his hair. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Ginny so close to him.

“Things aren’t the same any longer.”

Funny how Ginny’s easy confidence could bolster his spirits, Harry mused as he pulled her to his chest again. “It feels that way, sometimes… but then it’s as though something snaps in him, and he’s the same foul Snape he’s always been.” Harry felt Ginny nodding against his chest.

“He’s been alone for sixteen years, Harry.”

Harry didn’t answer as Ginny’s words sunk in, and it felt as though a stone had settled itself into the pit of his stomach as he thought of the Potions master so filled with sorrow… so alone after losing everything. “I didn’t want him to die,” Harry whispered suddenly, and Ginny wrapped her arms around him, letting Harry lean into her for support. They sat that way for a long time, not needing words.

Their fingers intertwined naturally together as they stood up and walked back to the castle awhile later. Harry gave Ginny a light kiss as they parted at the enchanted staircase, and then Harry made the rest of the journey into the dungeons alone.

The door to Snape’s classroom was open, so Harry went inside.

“Close the door.”

Harry looked up to see Snape seated behind his desk, quill in hand, apparently marking a fresh batch of essays. Harry shut the door as Snape had requested and wasn’t surprised as the professor added his usual charms to the ones already in place.

Snape stood after he’d finished and moved toward his office, beckoning Harry to follow. Harry’s heart plummeted. The last time he’d been in Snape’s office had ended in disaster. He willed his feet to move forward, and then he let out a relieved breath as Snape passed his office door and stopped in front of the Floo.

Snape turned to look at him inquisitively. “Is there a problem?”

Harry shook his head quickly. “No, sir. Are we going somewhere, sir?” he asked as he watched Snape pulling a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantle.

“Obviously,” Snape said, though without any heat. He gestured for Harry to enter the Floo. Apprehensively, Harry obeyed. Snape followed after him, standing so close to Harry that their arms were touching. Snape seemed little bothered by the contact as he calmly threw down the powder and called, “Severus Snape’s quarters!”

Harry’s mouth fell open at Snape’s words, and a moment later, he was rewarded with a mouthful of soot. He coughed and sputtered, hacking violently, and with one quick whack from Snape, Harry coughed once more and then fell silent, his throat burning. As he stepped out of the fireplace, Snape silently handed him a glass of water. Harry glanced up, and Snape gave the glass a pointed look. Harry took it and sipped the water carefully, trying to soothe the ache in his throat.

“Thank you, sir.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “It is best to close your mouth while Flooing,” he informed him, deadpan, and Harry’s cheeks burned right along with his throat. He opened his mouth to retort, only to close it slowly as he noticed that the end of one of Snape’s lips was lifted about a millimeter above the rest of his mouth. Harry stared at the professor and then nodded.

“Good advice, sir. I’ll try to remember that,” he said seriously. Snape peered at him then his face went blank again, and Harry almost did laugh that time. The Potions master was easier to read than Ron.

“Shall we begin?” Snape asked as though they had not just exchanged good-natured barbs.

Only then did Harry notice his surroundings. They were definitely in the dungeons. He looked around, surprised at how light the furnishings were. The couches and chairs actually looked comfortable, the paintings almost… cheerful. It wasn’t Snape at all.

Snape was watching him survey the room, and Harry suddenly felt self-conscious. “Sorry, sir. We can start now.”

“Your mother picked out most of these things,” Snape said abruptly, guessing where Harry’s thoughts had strayed.

“She did?”

Snape only nodded.

“You kept them, sir?” Harry asked before he could censor himself.

Severus looked away as he explained, “Albus created a ‘safe house’ of sorts for us when you were born. Your mother decorated it. When she died and Albus appointed me Potions master, I brought everything here.” For Snape, it had been a lengthy speech, and Harry, with considerable effort, didn’t stare dumbly at him. He nodded instead.

Harry felt ridiculously happy that Snape had kept his mum’s things. Even after she had given him every reason to hate her, here was proof that Snape had never stopped loving his mum. Snape was watching him closely again, and Harry wondered how much he was giving away. Taking a chance and hoping fervently that he wouldn’t regret it, Harry asked, “Why did you bring me here, sir?”

A muscle twitched near the Potions master’s lips. “Do you have an objection?” he asked, and Harry almost rolled his eyes.

“No, sir. I’m glad we came.” The words sounded unnatural, and Snape looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t snap out an angry response, so Harry didn’t feel as bad as he might have.

“We should begin,” Snape said, steering them away from sensitive topics, though of course Occlumency lessons were rather a sensitive topic on their own. But Harry nodded anyway, determined not to disappoint the professor.

“The mind has many layers,” Snape began, and Harry blinked. Snape didn’t pause, though. “Occlumency is the art of burying thoughts beneath a shield, while purposely allowing other, specific thoughts to surface.”

“Sir?”

“That is how I am able to play the part of spy for the Dark Lord. I only allow him to see what I want him to see. The rest of my thoughts, especially those that would give me away, I bury deep under my shields,” Snape explained patiently, and Harry almost couldn’t listen as he was still reeling from this drastic change in Snape’s teaching tactics.

Tentatively, not wanting to tear the fragile bubble that seemed to be forming around them, Harry asked, “But how do I do that, sir?”

Snape regarded him with a thoughtful expression and said simply, “I will help you.”

1996

“Come here.”

“Sir?” Harry questioned, unprepared for the quiet command.

“Proximity increases the ability to open another’s mind.” Snape paused as he noted Harry’s skeptical look. “The Dark Lord is not an average Legilimens and the connection between the two of you is unique,” he explained, sounding slightly less patient than he had a moment earlier.

“But then I don’t need to be near Voldemort to block him out, right?”

“No, you do not. You do however need to learn to block out anyone at all and that will require you to—come here!” Snape’s impatience overflowed as he tersely repeated his command. Harry felt his feet moving forward automatically, and then he cursed himself for his easy compliance. If the Professor noticed Harry’s resentment, he didn’t comment on it.

When Harry was close enough to Snape, the Potions Master grasped Harry’s upper arm firmly and unceremoniously plopped him on the couch. “Ow!” Harry yelped and Snape snatched his hand away as though he had been burned.

There was a short silence before Snape spoke again. “You will need a mental image,” he said stiffly. His eyes were averted as Harry rubbed at his arm absently; it hadn’t really hurt that much, he wanted to tell the Professor, but dammit, why did the man have to be so pushy?

“What sort of image?” he finally ventured.

Snape turned his gaze back to Harry. “One that will allow you to focus. You will need to choose an image that will not distract you. I will show you.”

Snape sat down on the sofa next to Harry, leaving several inches of space between them. He angled himself so that he and Harry were facing. The Professor drew his wand from his robe and brought it slowly toward Harry’s temple. Harry tried very hard not to flinch, waiting on an indrawn breath for Snape to hiss, ‘Legilimens’ at him. Instead, the man said quietly, “It will work best at first if we are in contact with one another.” He paused and said gruffly, “I will not hurt you.”

Harry’s stomach lurched; he had not meant to make the man feel badly, but the pain in Snape’s voice was unmistakable. “Okay,” he managed to say and then tensed under Snape’s steady gaze.

With an almost gentle movement, the Professor’s course fingers were lightly cupping the back of his head and again Harry couldn’t help the tension that stiffened his body. Snape, seeming to sense Harry’s reservation, said quietly, “This will not be like the invasion it was before.” Harry instinctively relaxed at the reassurance and the Professor tilted Harry’s head up a fraction so that he was staring deep into the black eyes.

And then Snape’s wand was pressed gently against Harry’s temple and a whispered spell broke the stillness. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as he felt a warm glow entering his mind. The warmth gathered around his thoughts, and slowly grew in its intensity, becoming a slow burn, a flame that flickered against Harry’s insistence that he be left alone. But the flames brightened and the warmth began to fill him, soothing the aching memories at the forefront of his mind.

As if the flames were tentacles, fiery fingers reached themselves around Harry’s troubled memories, plunging them downward as they gripped, pushing them under the fire that now raged inside him, until Harry felt cleansed, whole again. Tentatively, the flames licked at the easy memory of Ron, groping under his bed for a shoe, his face tensed up in a frown, of Hermione with her hands clasped together as she explained that Snape had loved Lily, and Hedwig swooping down from the rafters in the Great Hall, bringing him a letter.

As Harry relaxed, the flames reared up again, pulling the innocuous memories up, above the flames and set them free again. Then the flames steadied, dimming slightly and flickering gently once more and Harry felt at peace, as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Gently, with a slight and silent whoosh, the flames flickered once, twice, and then died out completely. Slowly, gradually the buried memories trickled back into Harry’s consciousness. Harry opened his eyed dazedly; Snape was staring at him, seeming lost in himself. Snape’s hand still held Harry’s head firmly. Coming back to himself, the Professor blinked slowly and drew his fingers from the hair at Harry’s nape, where sometime during the last minutes, they had intertwined themselves.

And then Snape’s features sharpened. “You told your friends,” he accused and instantly all of Harry’s ease vanished.

“It was before you told me not to,” Harry said quickly, hoping Snape would leave it.

“So you are capable of following simple instructions, then?” Snape sneered.

Harry balled his fists while his face flushed deeply. “Well, I’ve been following your stupid instructions for years, haven’t I?” he retorted

Snape’s eyes glinted, though this time in distinct anger. “As I recall, your inability to follow instructions led to the disaster at the Ministry of Magic last year,” he drawled and Harry surged to his feet.

“It was because of your complete absence of any teaching ability that I couldn’t learn Occlumency worth a damn! It was all because you couldn’t get over your jealousy of James that Voldemort was able to enter my mind at all!” Harry’s voice was well into the range of a shout and by that time Snape was also on his feet, glaring down at him.

“Jealousy, Potter?” he hissed. “James Potter took my family from me-”

“He didn’t take anything!” Harry shouted right over him. “Voldemort and your mother killed my mum and I’m standing right here, Snape!”

Snape’s fists were also clenched in rage as he snarled, “You will not address me in that manner.”

“How would you like me to address you then?” Harry asked in a fair imitation of the Potions Master’s sneer. “How about ‘daddy’ just like I used to? Or would that be too painful for you? Merlin knows we’re all dancing around your feelings so much, it’s not even clear you have any feelings at all!” Ignoring the tears that were threatening to spring to his eyes, Harry turned toward the Floo.

“Where are you going?” Snape demanded harshly.

Harry ignored him and continued toward the fireplace.

“Accio Floo Powder,” Snape snapped and Harry had to duck to avoid being smacked in the head by the ebony box that whizzed off the mantel.

Harry spun around. “Hey!” he objected. But then, with determination born of fury, Harry turned again and marched toward Snape’s door.

“If you wish me to put you in a full Body Bind, by all means, continue on toward that door,” Snape said, his voice deadly calm.

Although fully aware that the Potions Master would most certainly follow through on his threat, Harry took another step.

“Petrificus-”

“Oh, all right!” Harry shouted, spinning to face Snape again and the Professor calmly lowered his wand as if he hadn’t been about to hex his own son. Harry folded his arms angrily across his chest. “So, now I’m a prisoner?” he asked sarcastically.

Inexplicably, Snape’s lip curled slightly and Harry narrowed his eyes. “No, you are not a prisoner. But, you are going to stay here until we are finished with your lesson.”

Harry sagged a little. “You want to go on with this?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could manage.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Despite my ‘complete absence of any teaching ability’, you mean?” he enquired.

Harry stiffened. “Well, you didn’t teach me last year at all, did you?” he asked, his tone not quite reaching sarcasm.

Snape regarded him silently. “I was not prepared last year.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. He knew further probing would likely make the Professor angry again, and as he was glad they were no longer shouting at one another, he kept his questions to himself and simply nodded. Snape, in return, gave him a very strange look and Harry had to look away as his throat constricted. “I should have listened to you last year,” he said quietly.

“It would not have helped,” Snape returned after a pause, his voice matter of fact.

Harry chanced a glance at the Professor. Snape sighed and gestured jerkily for Harry to sit. Harry sat cautiously again on the sofa, his eyes trained on Snape. “My methods last term were inappropriate to the situation. You are correct that I was blinded by my hatred of James Potter.”

Harry stared at him in utter incomprehension. “Sir?”

“It is not your fault that Black died. I did not mean to imply as much,” Snape told him, his face as still as Harry had ever seen it. And then abruptly Snape asked, “Shall we continue?” Harry nodded, not able to find his voice. “This time, I will be inside your mind, only to guide you as you secure your own thoughts, with your own anchor.”

“But, I don’t know how to do that, sir. How do I choose an image?” Harry asked quietly, still very unsure of how Snape would react to his display of incompetence.

“You misunderstand,” Snape said. Harry tilted his head in confusion, not least because Snape had pointed out a flaw without a trace of a sneer. “You need not purposely choose an image. As you Occlude your mind and bury your thoughts, the image should come naturally to you.”

More confused than ever, Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I still don’t understand.”

“I told you that I would show you,” Snape said, with a touch of impatience. “You will open your mind to me,” he said shortly and again, Snape’s hand reached out to take hold of the back of Harry’s neck. This time, Harry brought his head up on his own so that he could look into the Professor’s eyes. The Potions Master nodded once and brought his wand to Harry’s temple.

“Patefacio vestri mens,” Snape whispered and again Harry felt the warmth of Snape’s presence glowing in his mind. “Loco vestri poena absentis.” The warmth gathered around Harry’s thoughts and then among the flames, a mist began to gather, coming together in substance, dark and wet as it coalesced.

Put your thoughts away. Harry started at the silent suggestion. And then one of the bright flames flicked out toward the gathering storm. It wrapped its fiery strands around the cloud, stretching it to fill Harry’s mind.

Sirius floated above the raging cloud, falling over and over into the veil. The fingered flames reached out for the memory of Sirius and Harry watched as it was tugged out of sight behind the cloud. Cedric appeared next, his face staring unseeingly up into Harry’s eyes and this time, before Snape’s fiery tendrils could interfere, Harry forced the memory away through the gray mist. All of Harry’s most painful memories, swiftly now, were paraded down into the cloud, streaking by so that they were nothing more than a blur. And finally, there was Voldemort, peering at Harry from red snake-like eyes, hovering with deranged glee while Harry writhed against the ground. With a silent cry of anguish, Harry shoved the bastard through the foamy black.

Remus smiled at Harry happily as he stepped from the Floo in Dumbledore’s office and Fred and George whizzed above the cloud wall on their brooms, fireworks bursting behind them. Happiness filled Harry once more as the memories guarded the clouds like sentinels until finally, Harry heard, as if from far away in a dream, “Paro lemma solvo,” and the dormant flames set the cloud ablaze. The mist burst open and Harry’s memories hurtled out to crush the cheerful throng above.

With a great gulp of air, Harry lurched forward as the violent memories assaulted him, catching him unaware and he cried out in pain. Strong arms steadied him while he dragged in jagged breaths. “Breathe slowly,” a strong voice commanded him and Harry obeyed, pulling in a long breath and letting the air out of his lungs in a slow hiss. Another slow breath and another and Harry was becoming once more aware of his surroundings.

Heavy hands on his shoulder gave Harry a gentle squeeze….Snape’s hands. Then the hands pulled away and Harry gripped the back of the sofa for support as the unlikely comfort was withdrawn. “What happened?”

“Exactly what was supposed to happen. You Occluded your mind so that the only thoughts available to another were the ones you allowed to remain above your shield.”

“Clouds?” Harry asked, bewildered by the timidity of such an image.

“A storm, to be precise…a formidable defense.”

But Harry shook his head. “But you broke through it easily.”

“You had already allowed me access to your mind. I was there to guide you,” Snape reminded him. “Eventually, you will be the only one able to bring the buried memories to the surface again.”

Harry considered that with a frown. “Why didn’t you show me how to do that to begin with?” he asked before he could stop himself, though he supposed he already knew the answer.

Snape pursed his lips. “I believe I already said my methods were not opportune to the task, did I not?”

“I guess,” Harry agreed, though he didn’t feel that explanation had counted for much. After all, it wasn’t even really an answer. “So then…your image is fire?” he asked, struggling for something to say.

“Flames,” Snape corrected instantly as though he expected Harry to be able to understand the obviously much too subtle difference. Harry shrugged and Snape studied him for a long moment before saying, “Your image bears a marked resemblance to the storm that overtook you during your third year when Dementors attended your Quidditch match.”

Snape’s expression was thoughtful, prompting Harry to remember little more than a year ago when the skies in Little Whinging had darkened in a similar way. He shuddered as he thought of the Dementors, so close to giving him and his cousin a very unpleasant Kiss.

“The idea disturbs you?” Snape asked, eyes still intently watching Harry.

Harry shook his head. “Not exactly. I was just remembering the Dementors last summer,” he explained.

“Ah.” Snape inclined his head in a satisfied sort of way.

Harry leaned forward on the sofa, intrigued. “Does that mean something to you?” he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

Snape pulled back slightly before answering. “Dementors were, I believe, your worst fear when you faced the Boggart in Lupin’s class, correct?”

“How did you know about that?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“You would be unsurprised, I am sure, to learn that you are the topic of many conversations during staff meetings,” Snape informed him coolly.

Harry’s neck flushed with embarrassment. “Brilliant,” he muttered, fiddling agitatedly with one of the pillows on the sofa.

“That does not please you?” the Professor asked in some surprise.

Harry looked up from the pillow. “Would you want to be the center of all the gossip in the wizarding world?” Harry asked, though there was no heat in the question, only resignation.

Snape regarded him again with that thoughtful expression. “No.”

“You were saying…about the Dementors?” Harry asked, uncomfortable under the Potions Master’s scrutiny.

Snape nodded briskly. “Fear is a powerful emotion. Twice, you fought off a Dementor attack…brought down your greatest fear. It makes sense that you would use an image of fear defeated, as your shield.”

“Twice?” Harry inquired, feigning misunderstanding at Snape’s count.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You defeated Dementors after you went back in time to rescue Black,” he reminded him.

Harry groaned, “Do you know everything?” he implored in dismay.

“More than you would wish, certainly,” Snape replied, a hint of a smirk around his mouth. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well that’s just bloody magnificent,” he told the Professor sourly.

“Yes,” Snape said seriously.

xxxxx

The Floo erupted across from where Severus sat watching the quizzical expression spread over Harry’s face. Severus turned and raised an eyebrow at Albus’ jolly face.

“Albus,” Severus greeted, not having expected the Headmaster.

“Severus, my boy...and, Harry! How felicitous. May I step through, Severus?” the old wizard inquired. Severus stood and nodded, gesturing for the Headmaster to come in.

Albus came through the flames without a trace of soot on his yellow robes. Nevertheless, he brushed the pristine robes and sat across from Harry.

“Good evening, sir,” Harry said politely.

“It is indeed, Harry. Now, has your father had a chance to tell you about Draco, yet?”

Severus noted that Harry shifted uncomfortably. He recovered quickly, answering with a shake of his head, “No, sir.”

Albus pierced Severus with a hard stare before continuing, “No matter, my boy. Perhaps, Severus, you would care to explain now?”

Severus held himself erect. “I would not,” he told Albus stiffly.

Albus favored Harry with an amused glance before saying to Severus, “I think the entire situation would benefit from Harry’s help, don’t you think?”

“I think Albus, that as Harry has not yet mastered Occlumency, it would be best if he did not acquire any more dangerous information.” Severus chose not to notice Harry’s startled glance.

Albus’ old blue eyes twinkled absurdly. “You’ve resumed Harry’s training, then?” At Severus’ curt nod, Albus clapped his hands together. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said happily.

“Was there something you wanted, Albus?” Severus inquired in a restrained growl.

“Of course, Severus. Why else would I barge in here during your personal time?”

“Well?” Severus all but barked when the Headmaster continued to smile at them.

Albus looked affronted but of course Severus saw past the idiotic ploy. He waited, with his arms folded, hands clasping elbows while the Headmaster smiled at Harry. “Impatient, your father,” he told the boy with a knowing nod. Harry’s lips twitched before he broke out in a smile and for the third time that evening, Severus had to restrain a smile of his own.

Albus turned back to Severus, still smiling and handed the Potions Master a tiny vial filled with a viscous silvery-white liquid. Severus nodded tersely and glanced pointedly toward the Floo. Albus, of course didn’t take the hint. “I was successful,” the Headmaster said unnecessarily. Severus almost rolled his eyes at the comment. Of course Albus had been successful...why else would he give him a vial full of memories if he had failed in his task.

“I will view it immediately,” Severus told the Headmaster. Albus nodded.

“Excellent, Severus. Well, Harry, I’m off again, I’m afraid. I am delighted to see you and Severus finding your way together.” Harry nodded, though the boy’s movements seemed unnatural to Severus. “Good night,” Albus told them both with a nod and then he stepped through the Floo again and was whisked away to secure the one thing that might be able to save Severus’ son.

“You’re still not going to tell me about Malfoy?” Harry asked as the Floo’s green flames died away.

Severus placed Albus’ vial of memories in an inside pocket of his robes. “No,” he told the boy.

Harry tapped his forefinger against one of the sofa’s pale blue cushions. “Hmmm….what could Malfoy be scheming?” he mused.

Severus shook his head. “He is not scheming. And, as I recall, there is still the matter of your having ignored my orders not to leave the tower last night.”

Severus was surprised when Harry smiled at him. “Very Slytherin, Professor.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s the third time you’ve changed a subject to avoid talking about something.” Harry shrugged, “But, it’s alright. I’m pretty good at figuring things out…well, with Hermione’s help anyway,” he finished breezily.

Severus glared at the boy. “You will do no such thing,” he said, allowing his voice to showcase an echo of menace.

Harry’s green eyes grew calculating and Severus narrowed his own eyes in response. “Fine,” Harry told him and Severus clenched his jaw.

“Do you wish your idiocy to get someone killed?” Severus snapped, thoroughly irritated at Harry’s false attempt to placate him. Instantly, a frost settled over the boy’s face.

“May I go?” the boy asked, his voice absolute ice.

Severus wanted to say no, he could very well not go, but there seemed little point in allowing the remainder of the evening to deteriorate. Severus didn’t answer, though he did walk into the Floo with quick steps. Harry hesitated. “You’re coming with me?” he asked, his tone returned somewhat to its normal warmth.

“I will go with you to the lab. Then you may leave.” Harry flinched and Severus stepped out of the Floo in one swift movement. Harry backed up, fear flashing in his eyes. Severus stopped abruptly. This was impossible.

Severus held the box of Floo Powder out to the boy and offered quietly, “You may go alone, if you wish,” Occluding his thoughts so that he did not give away the hurt that threatened to erupt.

Harry stared at him. “I-alright, sir,” he agreed, his shoulders slumping. Harry took a pinch of the Powder and turned slowly back to the fireplace. Before throwing down the Floo Powder, he said on a whispered breath, “I won’t do anything about Malfoy, sir.”

And then his son went up in flames. With a hissed curse, Severus flung the box he was holding against the floor. The delicate ebony shattered into tiny shards as the green Floo Powder glittered its way across the cold stone floor.

xxxxx

“Harry.”

Harry, about to make an attempt to dismantle the Professor’s spells on the classroom door, gripped his wand convulsively and turned abruptly at the sound of his name on Snape’s tongue. The Potions Master was standing in the door to his office, rigid; his face was blank.

“Yes sir?” Harry queried, his voice wobbly.

Snape stared at the opposite wall as he said, “I do not wish you to leave like this.” Harry couldn’t think of a coherent response to that, so he just waited. Snape darted a quick glance in his direction and then drew in a stilted breath. “I spoke out of turn.”

Harry closed his eyes, allowing Ginny’s face to float in front of his eyes, trying to somehow pull from the image some sort of inkling of what he should do. He knew of course what Ginny would urge, so he took a breath and plunged in. “It’s all right, sir,” he said, keeping his jaw relaxed as he spoke, giving nothing away.

Snape pivoted swiftly. He stared, his dark eyes penetrating. “So like your mother,” he murmured so quietly that Harry knew he wasn’t really speaking to him. The words set his insides aglow anyway. Snape lifted his chin a fraction and said evenly, “I will arrange for you to meet me in Lupin’s classroom Thursday night. You will need to tell your friends that you are receiving preparatory training.”

Harry nodded, “To give me an edge against Voldemort?” he asked with a thoughtful frown.

“You already have an edge,” Snape said, to which Harry furrowed his brow but he nodded as well. “I believe however, that is the best course of action,” he nodded. “I do not think we can use the same excuse as last year.”

“Yeah, it was a bit unbelievable that Professor Snape would spare his free time to give me lessons,” Harry said with a light smile.

“So my Slytherins told me,” Snape returned easily. Harry’s smile stretched a bit. “It is almost curfew,” the Professor reminded him abruptly.

“Right. Thank you, sir,” Harry put in automatically and Snape looked momentarily confused, to which Harry suppressed a chuckle. “Could you undo your spells, sir?” he asked with a wave toward the heavy door.

Snape flicked his wand without speaking and the dungeon door creaked open.

“Good night, Professor.” Snape merely nodded and Harry, understanding, nodded in return and hurried out into the corridor.

1996

It had been over a week since his first Occlumency lesson and Harry didn’t know when he’d last felt so tired. He had told all of his friends about his “extra training” with Remus, which had inevitably led to Harry starting up the D.A. again. His friends had begged and pleaded with Harry for three days before Harry finally gave in and asked Remus to become their advisor for the inflated group of students. Remus, of course, had agreed readily and the eager young witches and wizards had gathered in the Room of Requirement twice during the past week.

Harry met with Snape two nights as well, leaving him only one free evening, all of which he’d spent with his nose buried in his textbooks. He was beginning to feel a bit like Hermione. Occlumency was going surprisingly well, after the slightly uncomfortable tension of their second session, during most of which Snape had spoken only to give Harry terse commands.

The third time had been much easier; Harry and Snape hadn’t exchanged a single cross word, excluding of course Snape’s random snide remarks. Harry was growing used to the snark, as well as the man who delivered them with such practiced ease. He was even beginning to feel some inkling of fondness for the Professor, and Harry was almost certain Snape felt the same way, though Harry had noticed with a bit of wariness that the man hadn’t called him ‘Harry’ since that first night.

It was as though the Professor had buried every trace of emotion far beneath his shields. Harry hadn’t noticed even once a hint of anything other than endless black in the man’s eyes. Harry knew the last words they had exchanged that first night had cost Snape dearly and he was obviously not going to recover easily.

Harry sighed as he circled the Pitch. He had almost decided he was too tired to accept McGonagall’s decision that Harry become the Captain of this year’s Quidditch Team. He had gone to see Remus after she’d asked, moaning that he was too swamped to take this on as well. Remus had listened patiently and then asked if Harry wanted to play Quidditch at all this year to which he’d answered, “Of course!” rather indignantly. And then the sneaky sod had asked smoothly, “And you’d like Katie Bell to be Captain?” Harry had scowled at his friend and taken the hint.

Harry had almost lost his nerve two nights ago, when Snape had frowned in disapproval when Harry had mentioned his Quidditch plans.

“I do not think it wise to take on so much this term. You need to focus on your training,” Snape had said immediately when Harry had told him about McGonagall’s choice.

Harry had tilted his head and asked, “Are you telling me I can’t?”, having no idea why he would even ask. It wasn’t as if Snape had any authority to forbid him playing Quidditch after all.

Snape, in response, had pursed his lips and said stiffly, “You should do as you think best.” and then shortly afterwards, the Professor had ended the lesson much earlier than usual. Harry had left feeling very confused.

Later that night, he’d relayed the entire conversation to Ginny, who had explained patiently that Snape obviously felt uncomfortable in the floundering role he found himself in—hovering somewhere between parent and teacher. Harry had considered that and realized after a bit that he had been hoping for some sort of advice from Snape about what to do. And obviously, that had been far too much to expect from the prickly Professor.

“Harry! Come on down!” Ron called from far below him on the grass. Harry nodded though of course his friend couldn’t see him. He turned the nose of his broom toward the ground and nudged it forward so that he was streaking toward the ground.

xxxxx

Severus surveyed the Quidditch pitch quickly until he caught sight of his son, soaring high above the Pitch in lazy circles. Severus tensed in remembered discomfort of the last time Harry had flown his broom, ending up in the Hospital Wing. Why did the boy have to enjoy this blasted game so much? It was a waste of time, Severus insisted to himself; Harry had more pressing matters to attend to, not least of which was staying alive long enough to defeat the Dark Lord.

Feeling vaguely anxious, the Potions Master scanned the stands and then walked with hurried steps to where he could see his Slytherins settling in to spy on the Gryffindor Team. Absolutely no stealth at all. Severus shook his head slightly at the egregious inadequacies inherent in his young students. The fools were not even able to restrain their surprise when their professor walked into their midst, sitting himself without a word next to Draco.

Severus ignored the children as they eyed one another, glancing furtively at him in between. Unsurprisingly, it was young Malfoy who cleared his throat and asked, “Professor? What are you doing here, sir?”

Severus looked at him askance. “Enjoying the fine September weather,” he told him;

Draco grinned.

“Of course, sir. As are we,” he said, breathing deeply in through his nostrils to emphasize the truth of his words.

“Yeah, sir, the pitch is the best place to admire the autumn colours,” Zabini added with a smirk of his own. The rest of the Slytherins laughed raucously at their friend. Severus ignored them, keeping his focus on Harry’s form as the boy flew absurdly higher on his broom.

Severus watched Harry as he looked down at a shout from Weasley, who was calling for the boy to come down. Yes, Severus wanted to urge, come down from that ridiculous thing. He said nothing as he watched in silence as Harry started a nose dive that hurtled him toward the earth. Severus’ heart lurched into his throat as he watched the boy stretching closer and closer to the ground.

Severus’ hand itched as he readied himself to perform a wandless and silent ‘Arresto Momento’ on his son. But only centimeters from the grass, Harry pulled up on his broom handle abruptly and hopped down, grinning from ear to ear. Severus gritted his teeth, wishing he could rebuke the boy for his reckless behavior. A sound admonishment would have to wait however, until he and Harry were next together privately.

“Wow,” Zabini breathed beside him, obviously impressed with Harry’s skill.

“Show off,” Draco muttered, glaring at Harry, who was by now surrounded by a throng of his fellow Gryffindors…and Lupin, Severus noted sourly. He watched in readily growing agitation as Lupin clapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry was still grinning, until the youngest Weasley leaned into to say something in Harry’s ear. Harry’s face stilled and his eyes darted up to where Severus and his Slytherins were watching. Severus pursed his lips as Harry’s lips curved into a sort of dazed smile. Obviously their Occlumency training was not going as well as Severus had believed, if the boy could manage only to hide his surprise as well as Severus’ tempestuous Slytherins.

“What’s Potter grinning about?” Draco demanded, much more agitated than he should have been by the simple smile. Severus filed the information away and continued to watch his son intently. Even at this distance, Severus could see clearly that Harry’s face had warmed with a slight flush and then the boy was nodding at something Lupin was saying to him. Finally, as though held by a magnetic force, his son dragged his eyes away from Severus’ glare.

“All right, everyone here for tryouts, line up under the goalposts!” Harry barked out in a commanding tone and the other students scrambled to obey. Severus had to bite back a smile as he watched.

The students there only as spectators, turned away from Harry and wound their way through the seats to find places to watch. Lupin was among them. Severus tracked Lupin’s movements surreptitiously, until the other man turned and then he was staring, unblinking, at Severus. The werewolf smiled at him, his weathered face suffused with humor and Severus scowled in return before turning abruptly back to the pitch.

Harry was giving instructions to the first group of Gryffindors which included both Weasleys and Ms. Bell of last year’s team. Severus continued to watch as Harry signaled the group up and then Harry was kicking off the ground and soaring upward toward the clouds.

“Is Dumbledore still out?”

Severus turned toward Draco sharply, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Draco wasn’t looking at him, but staring intently at the little team above the pitch, his eyes following their progress. When Severus didn’t answer, Draco turned his head slightly and raised his eyebrows insolently.

Severus turned back to the scene above him. “I do not believe that is any of your concern, Mr. Malfoy,” he returned silkily.

“Like hell it’s not,” Malfoy hissed between his clenched teeth. A few of the other Slytherins turned to eye Malfoy curiously.

Severus glared at them and the eavesdroppers hastily turned away. “Control yourself, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus warned quietly.

Draco clenched his hands where they rested on his knees and continued to stare out over the pitch. Evidently the young Slytherin was becoming restless, most likely from having to keep himself constantly in the company of at least one of his fellows. The young man’s mood was not likely to improve in the near future. Minerva had announced that the first Hogsmeade trip of the year would take place the following Saturday. Severus was not looking forward to telling Draco that he would not be allowed to go.

A cheer rose up from nearby and Severus glanced again toward the sky. He hadn’t seen what had happened to cause such elation but Harry was clapping Weasley happily on the back. With a pang, Severus realized he was not eager to tell Harry he would not be going to Hogsmeade either; the Potions Master had a feeling that the boy would not take the news well. He had briefly considered taking Lupin up on his offer to tell Harry, though Severus gave no inkling of his hesitation to the werewolf, who had been far too eager to take on the responsibility.

Severus watched the rest of the tryouts in silence. After a few failed attempts to get Malfoy to speak up, the rest of the Slytherins finally gave up and they too gave in to the quiet.

With the end of the tryouts, the new team crowded itself around Harry in excitement and Harry chanced another glance toward Severus. It would appear that he would indeed need lessons in stealth as well as Occlumency. Snape glared at him pointedly until Harry finally looked away, though oddly, Ms. Weasley now glowered at him from her position next to Harry. She kept his gaze until Harry tugged on her arm and the girl turned away as well.

Severus was not surprised at Harry’s choices for his new team. He was certain he would hear muttering about the boy playing favourites in his choice of both Weasleys, but Severus had to admit that his son had chosen fairly. As the newly formed Gryffindor team dispersed, the Slytherins began shifting in their seats, gathering stray belongings and otherwise preparing to leave the pitch.

Severus stood and said tersely, “Mr. Malfoy, a word.”

Draco stood obediently, though his posture radiated resentment. Severus ignored the young Slytherin’s attitude and gathering his robes about himself, the Potions Master strode from the stands, with Draco trailing slowly along behind him.

xxxxx

Whatever Snape and Dumbledore had planned for Malfoy, the Slytherin was back to his old self, Harry decided as he watched Malfoy stirring the bubbling cauldron between them with jerky movements.

“Mufflap Sap,” Malfoy snapped, thrusting out his empty hand and wiggling his fingers impatiently.

Harry pinched his lips together and placed the slim phial into the other’s outstretched hands; Harry was determined not to bring Snape over to them. Though the Professor had all but ignored the two of them last week, Harry had no desire to test their burgeoning relationship over Draco Malfoy.

“Frog’s eyes,” was Malfoy’s next command. Harry handed over the little dish of frog’s eyes.

Malfoy glanced at it. “Can’t you count, Potter? I need five, not four.” Harry clamped his teeth tightly together and added one more eye to the dish.

Malfoy added the Frog’s Eyes and stirred the Occulus Potion fifteen more times, then ordered, “Chop the toad stomachs. Finely.”

Harry picked up the two stomachs gingerly and used his little knife to cut up the disgusting organs with quick little movements. Malfoy watched in open disapproval. Harry had to start repeating over and over in his mind how Snape had come to the Quidditch trials on Saturday. The refrain helped a little.

Harry gave the finely chopped stomachs to the ungrateful Slytherin. After twenty more circles around the pewter cauldron with the glass stirring rod, Malfoy set the rod down and folded his arms across his chest in one angry swipe. Sighing quietly, Harry raised his hand to signal to the Professor that they were finished and after he’d made sure that Snape had noticed him, Harry lowered his hand and waited.

Snape eventually made his way over to the silent pair. Harry noticed the muted glare given to the sullen Slytherin boy. Without a word, Snape tested the Occulus Potion, as he did every other Potion and pronounced, “Excellent work as always, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points.” He ignored Harry, though now Harry preferred it that way. He relaxed as Snape moved on to the next table.

The class was dismissed soon after that. Malfoy left as fast as possible, marching out with Zabini and Parkinson. Harry cleaned up his supplies; Malfoy had not even bothered to open his own bag this session. Harry stuffed his ingredients away and trudged to the back of the classroom, extremely annoyed. Ron was waiting for him.

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked.

“She was in a hurry to get to the library before dinner.” Harry perked up at that; Hermione had promised to continue researching the Charm his mum had performed on Snape seventeen years ago.

“Brilliant,” Harry said enthusiastically and then proceeded to recap Potions class in great detail to his friend as they walked to the Quidditch Pitch for their first practice of the new term.

After he’d finished his last treacle tart later that evening, Harry leaned forward on the table, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. “Well, Hermione?” he asked impatiently as his friend peered at the thick volume in front of her. “Did you find anything?”

“Harry,” Hermione chided in exasperation. “You’ve been asking me for days and I’ve given you the same answer every time—not yet.”

Harry sighed and pressed, “But, it has to be somewhere.”

Hermione glowered at him and went back to her book. Harry groaned in frustration. They were never going to figure this out.

Ginny reached out a small hand to squeeze Harry’s arm gently. “Why don’t you just ask the Professor?” she asked sensibly.

Harry shook his head. “Sure. I’ll ask Snape about Malfoy again and that way I’ll be back in the tower before even you guys make it up there.” He made a face, and Ginny rolled her eyes. Hermione however had abandoned her book in favor of squinting quizzically across the table at Harry. “Did you find something?” he asked her excitedly.

Hermione blinked and her cheeks flushed slowly. She shook her head and began fiddling with her pudding spoon. Harry glanced at Ginny who shrugged, as perplexed as Harry as to what could be bothering the bushy-haired girl.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry asked finally as his friend continued to stare fixedly at her book.

“It’s nothing, Harry,” Hermione said quickly, not taking her eyes off the page.

“Oh, just tell him, Hermione,” Ron huffed in agitation and Harry swung his eyes around to look at his ginger-haired friend.

“Tell me what?”

Ron ignored the warning look from his girlfriend and said with a shrug, “She’s been pestering me for days about when you’re going to stop calling him that.”

“Ronald!” Hermione slammed her book closed, glaring fiercely at Ron.

Harry looked between the two of them as they glared at one another. “Calling who what?” Harry demanded after the silence had stretched for far too long.

Ron rolled his eyes, “Snape, you dolt.” Ron told him good-naturedly and Harry goggled at his two friends.

“Are you insane, Hermione?” He shook his head in wonderment. “You are,” he confirmed as Hermione just stared at him, her lips pressed together defiantly.

“I am not,” Hermione denied. “You said yourself that Snape got really angry when you addressed him that way.”

“Yeah, because he thinks it’s disrespectful to call him anything but ‘Professor’ or ‘sir’. He practically chewed me up last term for being disrespectful,” Harry told her.

“Harry.” Harry looked up to find Remus standing over them, a frown on his usually smiling face.

“Is it time, already?” Harry asked, not bothering to cast a Tempus Charm.

Remus shook his head, and then grasped his ear between his thumb and forefinger and shook the lobe, looking at the four of them pointedly. Oh. Harry had forgotten he’d erected a Silencing Spell around he and his friends after the other Gryffindors nearby had left the table. Harry quickly grabbed his wand and ended the spell. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly.

“Harry, I’d like a word with you,” Remus said and Harry immediately tensed at his friend’s tone, although Harry could think of nothing he’d done to warrant any sort of lecture from Remus, of all people.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Remus shook his head. “I just need to speak with you for a few moments before we begin your lesson,” he explained, beckoning him with his hand to get moving. Harry gave Ginny a quick peck on the cheek and followed Remus out of the Great Hall; he had a hard time keeping up with his friend’s uncustomary rapid pace as they hurried through the corridors.

“Remus?” Harry questioned but Remus shook his head, signaling to Harry that whatever words they were going to have needed to be said in private. By the time the two of them reached Remus’ classroom office, Harry’s stomach was twisted in knots.

As soon as the door was closed and warded, Harry asked, his voice full of dread, “What’s going on?”

“Severus is waiting for you,” Remus said without preamble.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “Huh? I thought you wanted to talk to me first.”

Remus sighed. “I said that for the benefit of listening ears.” Harry thought Remus sounded tired but since it wasn’t yet close to the full moon, he could see no reason for him to be out of sorts.

“Snape wants to start early tonight?” Harry asked, the tension in the pit of his stomach tautening again. “Does he have to be somewhere tonight?” he asked, thinking of the horrors of the dream he’d had before they’d begun his Occlumency training.

But Remus shook his head and Harry’s tension eased a bit. “Severus wants to speak with you.” The knotted muscles pulled themselves tighter.

“What about?” Harry asked curiously.

“Harry, just do as you’re told for once,” Remus said impatiently, his voice as sharp as Harry had ever heard it.

Stung, Harry couldn’t even respond. He turned quickly to hide his face, twisted in hurt and he stepped into the Floo. As Harry threw the Powder down, Remus’ mouth opened as though he would say something but the Floo swallowed Harry up, cutting off anything Remus might have said.

And then Harry was stumbling, as he always seemed to do, out of Snape’s fireplace. This time, as he toppled, he smacked up against black robes and a hand was reaching behind Harry’s back to steady him as he regained his footing. Harry looked up; Snape was standing so close that he could smell the cloves, pungent in his nostrils.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized quickly, stepping back a bit. It took longer than was necessary for Snape to release him fully though and when he did, Harry recognized the closed expression on the Professor’s face and Harry almost wanted to step back into the man’s accidental embrace. Then he remembered that Snape wanted to talk and that Remus had snapped at him, and the feeling evaporated.

Remembrance flashed in Snape’s eyes as well and the blank expression shifted to a glower. Harry tensed.

“You cannot erect Privacy Spells in the middle of the Great Hall,” Snape said unexpectedly.

Harry frowned in confusion. “That’s why you wanted to talk to me?” he asked, feeling all of sudden relieved. He shrugged. “There weren’t many students left when I did it. And, it would be hard to notice unless someone was specifically looking for a Privacy Spell,” he finished, convinced by the soundness of his own argument. Snape however, seemed considerably less impressed.

“Which they very well could be,” the Professor told him sharply.

“Looking specifically for Privacy Spells?” Harry scoffed, completely unconcerned.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Exactly. Not everyone at Hogwarts is a Gryffindor,” he said acidly.

Harry, suddenly alert, pulled himself up a little, ignoring what was most likely an insult. “The Slytherins are spying on me?” he asked in great interest.

“Of course,” Snape inclined his head, and Harry could almost see the Potions Master rolling his eyes.

“For Voldemort?”

Snape stared at him as though he was daft and Harry nodded quickly, realizing how stupid the question had been. Of course the Slytherins were spying for their parents’ Master. He was itching to ask Snape if Malfoy was spying too; it was not easy to restrain himself.

“Do not use such spells in a public place again,” Snape finally told him and on a sigh, Harry agreed. Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicious appraisal before he nodded. “This evening,” he continued, changing the subject, “we will test your shields. I will attempt to enter your mind; you will defend yourself.”

A chill ran up Harry’s spine. Defend yourself. Harry had to blink several times to clear his mind of last year’s failure. He slowly allowed the mist to solidify until the storm inside his mind was raging and Harry buried all thoughts of last year’s Occlumency lessons, and Sirius far below the shield. When he was satisfied that he was ready, Harry refocused on Snape, who was watching him with interest.

“You are ready?” the Professor inquired.

Harry nodded. Snape regarded him for a moment longer and then he withdrew his wand. Involuntarily, Harry flinched back as he readied himself for Snape’s attack. Snape lowered his wand.

“You are prepared this time. This will not be like last year.” Snape’s tone was almost soothing and Harry swallowed. He nodded and the Professor raised his wand once more. “Legilimens,” Snape said quietly and Harry felt the now familiar intrusion of Snape’s presence in his mind.

This presence though was harsher, more insistent and Harry immediately recoiled from it. With an effort, he strengthened his mental shields, urging his Dementor Storm, as he had begun to think of it, to broaden and build. The storm overshadowed the flames that threatened him, pushing the fiery threat backwards and finally extinguishing it completely.

Harry came aware again of Snape standing in front of him as Harry hunched over slightly, panting from the exertion of forcing the other man out of his thoughts. As he steadied himself, Harry straightened up again. Snape was perfectly collected, not seeming to have been taxed at all by the experience.

Harry smiled faintly at the Professor. “That was better.”

Snape nodded. “It was. It will be harder each time.”

Harry nodded. “Again?” he asked and Snape nodded, looking pleased at Harry’s quick recovery. They dueled for an hour and by the end Harry was struggling ferociously, battling the raging inferno that screamed against his shield. Harry pushed back as hard as he could, but slowly Snape’s flames began to overtake Harry’s storm, until finally with one mighty burst of fire, the cloud split in two just as it had the first time and Harry’s most buried thoughts assaulted him in an great rush of anguish.

Harry’s mum broke free, followed closely by James and Cedric. And finally, the image of Sirius, laughing as he fell back into the veil, pelted upwards and Harry cried out, staggering in sudden weakness.

“Sirius,” he gasped, and Harry latched on to whatever was in front of him, to stop himself falling, gripping fiercely. As the inferno faded slowly out of his mind, Harry recognized the feeling of a well-brushed fabric against his forehead; his fists were twisted up in the same soft material. As it came through the haze of reawakening that it had to be Snape’s robes he was clutching, Harry started to pull away but then lightly, almost as though it wasn’t there at all, a hand was resting against the back of Harry’s head.

The rise and fall of slow, rhythmic breathing calmed the shaking that was rustling quietly through Harry’s body. He sucked in a deep breath and realized he was crying, the tears falling silently onto Snape’s black vest. He felt a moment’s desperate hope that the Potions Master wouldn’t notice. Harry struggled for equilibrium, Occluding his mind and willing himself to bury the emotions that were beginning to submerge him.

Harry was distracted by the soft vibration of the Professor’s chest as he said quietly, “It is not advisable to use Occlusion to avoid painful emotions.”

Unable to stop himself, Harry brought his eyes up, his fingers loosening their death grip on the Professor’s robes. Snape was looking down at Harry, straight into his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do with them, sir,” Harry admitted quietly, wanting to look away but Snape’s gaze wouldn’t allow it.

“You must allow yourself to grieve,” Snape told him simply, his eyes intense. But Harry shook his head, still looking up at Snape.

“I have,” Harry tried to tell him and at this Snape shook his head.

“No, you have not.” The gentle pressure left his head then, and Harry’s heart felt suddenly heavier.

“You only lost Black a few months ago. There has not been enough distance for you to have properly mourned.” Harry wanted to disagree but Snape continued, “When I broke through your shield, the memory of Black was distressing enough that you lost yourself to me for short time. Your conscious mind was completely overshadowed by mine. You have not accepted your loss.”

Harry looked away as the pain coursed through him again. “I can’t,” he said piteously and then bit his lip, his discomfort threatening to overcome him.

Snape didn’t seem to notice. “And you will never accept your godfather’s death if you continue to pretend it did not happen.”

Although Harry was certain the Professor had not meant it to, his voice had regained some of its harshness, but now Harry did not shy away from it. He was beginning to hear the concern under the thick layer of thorns. Harry only nodded in response and Snape studied him briefly, perhaps measuring how much Harry had taken his words to heart.

“I know,” Harry felt compelled to offer, hoping to ease some of the Professor’s unspoken concern. Snape, after a pause, nodded briskly. Harry, feeling suddenly drained, sat in one of Snape’s chairs, draping himself into its recesses in a comfortable slouch. Harry smiled when Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

“Comfortable, I trust?” Snape asked, a hint of amused sarcasm in his voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Harry answered in all seriousness. Snape shook his head slightly and took the chair opposite and Harry decided that Snape looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“There is something else we need to talk about,” Snape began slowly and Harry almost groaned.

“Something else?” Harry asked, stalling as his stomach clenched.

Snape nodded. “You are aware that there is a trip to Hogsmeade this Saturday?”

Harry nodded, already wary about what Snape could be up to. In the next instant, Snape’s face went blank and Harry found himself remembering his posture as he straightened himself in the chair. “I do not think it wise for you to be away from the castle right now,” Snape told him, without any inflection and Harry took a discreet breath as he struggled for control. He was not going to miss Hogsmeade…not for another year.

“Why not, sir?” he asked, hoping his voice was as calm as he had planned. Apparently it was, as Snape didn’t even blink.

“It is not safe,” he told Harry.

Harry frowned. “I’ll be fine.”

Snape shook his head and his face transformed so that the Potions Master looked very grim. “You misunderstand. I am not giving you a choice.”

Harry frowned as he leaned forward. “Aurors are crawling all over the place. I’m sure the Headmaster would have given them orders to go to Hogsmeade when I do.”

“And you believe Aurors to be infallible?” Snape asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, but neither are the castle’s defenses.”

Snape’s lips thinned. “You are much safer within its walls.”

“And, I’d be even safer if I stayed with my relatives,” Harry countered.

Snape leaned forward in his seat now, his eyes growing somehow darker. “You are not going, Harry,” he said calmly. Harry sat back against the soft chair. Snape contemplated him for another moment before straightening again. “If you wish, you may spend the day in my private labs with me.”

Struggling a bit to process what had just happened, Harry stared at Snape, and then a slow spread over his face. “I’d like that sir.”

1996

Taking a chance, Severus offered, “If you wish, you may spend the day in my private labs with me.”

Severus watched as Harry’s face lit up with a smile. “I’d like that, sir,” he agreed and Severus felt a rush of relief at his son’s words. He had not expected him to consent so readily.

Encouraged, Severus said in a conversational tone, “You decided to take on the Quidditch Captaincy.”

For some reason, Harry’s cheeks tinged red. “Yeah,” he nodded. After a hesitation, he elaborated with a shrug, “I was going to play anyway.” Then Harry’s face clouded over and Severus raised an eyebrow at his son’s sudden change in mood.

“It was your choice,” Severus told him, trying to make it clear that he was not angry that he had not taken his advice. Harry looked confused.

Clearly, the boy did not understand Severus’ message, but Harry surprised him by saying, “I know, sir.”

“Indeed. What then is the matter?” The words of concern came much more easily than Severus would have believed they could.

Harry looked away. Severus waited for Harry to collect himself, recognizing in his son his own habit of tempering an emotional response. When Harry turned back, he said quietly, “It was Remus who asked if I’d play even if I wasn’t Captain.”

Severus frowned, displeased that either Harry had sought out Lupin’s advice or that Lupin had offered it unasked. “And?” the Potions Master asked, more severely than he had intended. Harry’s eyes flashed in irritation and Severus regretted his harsh tone.

“He snapped at me in his office and it bothered me, alright?” Harry huffed. Severus held back a smile as his son crossed his arms across his chest in a decidedly Lily-like gesture. The halted smile seemed to annoy Harry though as he exclaimed, “Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you need to be happy that he upset me!” The hurt on Harry’s face was plain.

Severus stared at him, taken aback. He narrowed his eyes as he studied his son. “It does not make me happy that Lupin upset you.” It wasn’t precisely the truth even if Harry hadn’t used the word happy to describe the way Severus was feeling. And he knew perfectly well why Lupin would have been peevish with Harry. Something in Severus’ expression must have given him away as Harry was squinting suspiciously at him. Wanting to distract him, Severus asked evenly, “What did Lupin say?”

Harry ignored the question in favor of asking, “Did you say something to him?”

Severus shifted in rare discomfort. He was disinclined to share his earlier conversation with the werewolf. But Harry was watching him carefully; Severus set his jaw in determination, unwilling to lose the tenuous connection he now had with his son.

“I would not permit Lupin to speak with you about your Silencing Spell,” he admitted, Occluding his mind. Severus had no wish to lose his temper during the justifiably angry outburst that was sure to follow his statement. But Harry was gazing at him, his face stilled in contemplation.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Severus didn’t know what to make of Harry’s lack of response. Each time he felt as though he was getting to understand his son better, Harry would say or do something that the Professor could not have hoped to account for. The boy was utterly unpredictable and Severus had very little patience for the erratic behaviors that so obviously ruled the boy.

With a small nod, Severus stood slowly from his chair, keeping his movements carefully smooth. Harry was watching him warily though, most likely suspecting that Severus was annoyed. Severus sighed and gestured for his son to stand. Harry complied reluctantly. “No doubt you wish to speak to Lupin,” Severus intoned, utterly failing to keep the resentment from his voice.

Harry’s face smoothed into a smile and he nodded. Severus tensed. “Yeah, but he won’t be expecting me for another thirty minutes yet,” Harry noted with a shrug.

Severus’ eyebrows almost rose in considerable surprise, but he managed to resist the expression. “Perhaps then, we should use our remaining time in more productive pursuits,” he said curtly. Harry’s smile didn’t falter and Severus wondered briefly if he was allowing his emotions to show far more than he was intending as Harry didn’t seem at all fazed by Severus’ purposefully cold tone.

“Should I try my shields against you again?” Harry interrupted his thoughts.

Severus, feeling unsettled by the aftermath of Harry’s last attempt to keep his shields intact, wanted to refuse but it wouldn’t do to reveal such weakness to his son, so he nodded in agreement. He need only to apply a fraction of his earlier pressure against Harry’s storm; he had no desire to cause Harry any more pain this evening.

xxxxx

Harry had managed to fend off all of Snape’s remaining attacks after their short discussion about Remus. He suspected that the Professor was not seeking in earnest to get past his defenses, as he had earlier in the evening. Harry himself was feeling particularly vulnerable and edgy after what had passed between them and it was obvious that Snape felt the same way. But even through Harry’s discomfort, he felt happier than he had in months.

“Goodnight, sir,” Harry said at the end of the evening, trying not to yawn as he spoke, not wanting Snape to see how much the evening’s lesson had drained him.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Tired?” he asked, his voice lilting with suppressed sarcasm.

“A bit,” Harry admitted and Snape nodded briskly.

“Get some rest. As I noted already, you have stretched yourself far too thinly this term.”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, a reaction that was beginning to feel all too familiar when he was around the Professor. He just nodded though, in favor of leaving without a fight. He was also getting anxious to talk to Remus now that he understood why his friend had been so irritable. Harry wanted to assure Remus that even though he and Snape were getting along better, he didn’t want things to change between them.

“I will, sir,” Harry promised.

“Goodnight then.” Snape’s voice, as it always was at the end of the evening, was harsh. Harry nodded at the Professor and threw down the Floo Powder he was grasping, calling for Remus’ office.

As soon as Harry appeared in Remus’ Floo, his friend stopped his pacing, his face washed in worry.

“Harry,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so brusque with you,” his friend apologized quickly as though he had been fretfully waiting to say the words, and the pained look on Remus’ face tugged at Harry’s heart.

“It’s all right, Remus,” Harry tried to assure him, but Remus was shaking his head.

“It’s not, Harry. Severus and I had words and I-”

“Snape told me,” Harry interrupted, wanting to stop the flow of Remus’ anxiety. It worked; Remus tilted his head in confusion.

“He did?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Harry told him, and then his cheeks warmed slightly as he looked intently at his friend. “Look, Remus, I know Snape’s jealous of you….I mean that you and I are close. And, well…I don’t want you to worry that…” Harry trailed off uncomfortably, not really knowing what he was trying to say and worrying that he might upset Remus further.

“Harry.” Remus’ voice was gentle. He took a step closer to his young friend. Remus put his hands securely on Harry’s shoulders. Harry looked up into Remus’ warm eyes. “I’m afraid the jealousy goes both ways. When Severus told me it wasn’t my place to tell you not to use that Silencing Spell, I was envious of the relationship that’s developing between the two of you. I was worried about losing you to Severus. I’m sorry I took those feelings out on you, Harry.”

Harry’s chest was glowing with Remus’ words, and not only because of his friend’s admission. “I don’t want to lose you either, Remus,” Harry told the other man thickly.

“Harry,” Remus said, his own voice heavy with emotion, “you don’t have to worry about losing me.”

Harry nodded and not wanting to bawl for a second time that night, he took a deep breath and said shakily, “Thanks.”

Remus smiled, seeming somehow to understand that Harry had used up his emotional quota for the day as he gave the boy’s shoulders a quick squeeze and then dropped his hands again. “You look exhausted. Did everything go all right?”

“It was just harder than usual. I’m okay though,” he told his friend, hoping Remus would just believe him and not ask for details. Remus gave him a look, letting Harry know that he didn’t believe him one bit, but that he would respect Harry’s wishes, for which the young wizard was grateful.

“Come on. I’ll walk you back to the Tower,” Remus invited and Harry smiled.

He fell in step beside Remus and they walked through the castle together in companionable silence until they reached the Fat Lady. Trying not to sound too excited, Harry asked suddenly, “Did Snape really say that?”

Remus chuckled softly and shook his head in amusement, obviously knowing that Harry was referring to Snape’s demand that he not usurp his new role as Harry’s father. “Yes, Harry, he did,” Remus assured him. Harry coloured in pleased embarrassment. Remus tried to keep his further amusement at bay. “Go to bed, Harry,” he told his young friend, giving him a light push toward the Portrait.

Still smiling, Harry said, “Pariter,” and ducked in through the portrait hole. His smile brightened considerably when he saw Ginny, waiting for him on the sofa by the fireplace. He went and sat down next to her. He brushed a light kiss on Ginny’s lips. When he pulled back, she too was grinning at him, her brown eyes sparkling.

“Well, you’re happy. I’m guessing your lesson went well tonight.” she said as she closed her Care of Magical Creatures book.

Harry shrugged though, as he thought about the past few hours. “We dueled. It was better than last year though. Snape can actually teach when he tries,” Harry admitted. He settled in next to her, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“But?” Ginny asked, knowing that there was much more to the story.

Harry frowned in thought. “Near the end, Snape broke through my shields; it was even worse than the first time he did it…I sort of lost it,” he told her, his voice lowering with discomfort at the memory of crying into Snape’s chest.

Ginny squeezed his hand, imparting her strength to Harry. “What happened?” she asked.

Harry chewed his lower lip. “He was really nice about it. We talked about Sirius….he said I haven’t grieved yet for him.”

“He’s right,” Ginny told him gently, leaning further into Harry’s side.

“I suppose,” Harry said, still not wanting to dwell on this painful topic. He brought his hand up to Ginny’s neck and ran his fingers lightly through her soft hair. He was staring into the fireplace as he absently stroked the long tresses. “Gin?” he questioned finally.

“Hmm…” she murmured, enjoying the peace of the empty common room and the warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth.

“Do you think Hermione was right about my calling him Snape?” Harry asked, his voice sounding faraway.

Ginny twisted so she could look at him and she smiled at the mixed expression of hope and uneasiness on his face.

“I don’t know,” she told him carefully. “How do you feel about calling him Professor?” she asked, gauging his response in the way his eyes darted quickly down to look at her.

“I don’t usually don’t call him Professor, actually.”

“What do you call him, then?” Ginny asked in surprise.

Harry shrugged. “Mostly, just ‘sir’,” he answered, looking away.

“And, does he seem to mind?”

Harry snorted. “No. Can you imagine Snape objecting to being addressed as ‘sir’?” he asked. Ginny didn’t answer and Harry smiled again, enjoying watching as her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed her softly between her eyebrows. When Ginny looked at him questioningly, Harry teased, “Just trying to smooth out your forehead a bit.” Ginny laughed.

“Why don’t you try that on my lips, instead?” she asked and Harry obliged, still grinning. The innocent kiss turned quickly into a full-blown snogging session. They were interrupted of course by Ron awhile later. Harry sighed as he pulled away from Ginny, wishing his friend didn’t have such bad timing.

Ron, looking distinctly disgruntled at finding his little sister in the middle of a songfest, sat heavily in the chair opposite the pair, frowning fiercely in Harry’s direction.

“Ignore him, Harry,” Ginny directed as she re-opened her textbook. “He’s just annoyed because he’s not doing the same thing with Hermione,” she said with a smirk.

Ron turned his glare toward his sister and muttered crossly, “Oh, shut up.”

“Hey,” Harry said lightly as he pulled out quill and parchment from his overly full bag, “don’t tell Ginny to ‘shut up’.” And then when Ron didn’t respond, he asked curiously, “You two didn’t have a fight, did you?”

“No,” Ron said, leaning back in his chair, his glower still firmly in place. “Hermione’s in the library researching your mum’s Charm. She spends practically every minute in that damn library. She just threw me out…she said I was distracting her too much.”

Ginny laughed, but Harry leaned forward, frowning in concern. He didn’t want to cause problems between his newly coupled friends. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t mean for her to spend so much time trying to figure the Charm out. I’ll go talk to her if you want.”

But Ron shook his head resignedly. “It’s not your fault, Harry. Hermione’s having a ball trying to solve her little puzzle; she’s practically about to explode with excitement down there.” He made a face.

“You sure, Ron?” Harry asked, his features still filled with worry. Ron nodded but didn’t have time to respond further as Hermione burst into the room, out of breath, her hair in a tangled, sweaty mess around her face.

“Harry,” she panted as she rushed over to them. “Put up your Privacy Spell,” she ordered, her words choppy as she tried to catch her breath.

Harry paused, remembering Snape’s order not to use the Spell in public. But…this was Gryffindor Tower and technically, it wasn’t a public place so he it couldn’t really be included in Snape’s demand. Ignoring the niggling of his conscious, Harry erected the rather complex Spell quickly and Hermione dropped onto the low table in front of Harry; she thrust a thick book at him, the pages splayed open.

“Just look at this, Harry.”

Ginny and Ron had crowded around as well, all four of them peering at the paragraphs Hermione was pointing to. Harry squinted at the sentences, trying to understand what had Hermione so excited.

“Impenetrabiilis?” he asked.

Hermione nodded excitedly, pointing over Harry’s hand to the second paragraph on the page. “It’s like a Protego Charm…I think your mum actually charmed the skin on Snape’s arm so that Voldemort’s magic couldn’t bind with it…the Dark Mark couldn’t actually become a part of Snape’s arm, like the other Death Eaters’.”

“But didn’t we already know that, Hermione? I thought we decided there had to be more to the Charm than just a way for Snape to be free from the Mark’s pain.”

“Harry, look at the third paragraph.” Hermione demanded, sounding as though she really was about to burst, just as Ron had foretold.

Harry obeyed, scanning the lines quickly. He goggled at what he read. “But, that’s impossible!” he exclaimed as he re-read the sentences.

“I don’t think so,” Ginny disagreed, who had read quickly over his shoulder. “It says that the kind of ‘skin-tattoo magic’ that Voldemort used has been around for centuries. If your mum found the Impenetrabiilis Charm from this textbook, it makes sense that she would take it a step further.”

Even Ron was nodding by now, seeming to be in full agreement with both girls. “Where did you find this, Hermione?” he asked, flipping the book over so he could scan the title, Interwoven Bodily Charms of the Fifteenth Century.

“Professor Flitwick loaned it to me. I told him I was thinking about doing a special project about Charms used specifically on body parts,” Hermione said with a shrug, although she looked quite pleased with herself.

Harry however, was barely paying attention as he tried to figure out just what his mum and Snape had planned so many years ago. It didn’t make sense. He said so out loud to his friends, to which Hermione vehemently disagreed. Then Harry, in a mystified voice asked her, “But, then why the hell didn’t they finish Voldemort off?”

xxxxx

Harry was no closer to an answer the next day as he demonstrated an advanced Reducto Curse on one of the suits of armor which Remus had transfigured for the day’s lesson. This particular curse was even more powerful than the one Ginny had used in the Department of Mysteries but Harry had mastered it quickly and had agreed when Remus asked him to assist some of the other students.

All of the other Slytherins, including Malfoy had outright refused his help, so Harry concentrated his time instead on the two Ravenclaw girls who had nodded quickly when Harry had asked if they needed help, both of them blushing and giggling. Harry had almost retracted the offer as one of the girls brushed up deliberately against Harry’s arm as he’d shown her how to hold the wand.

Instead of abandoning them completely, Harry grabbed Neville to help him demonstrate so he wouldn’t have to deal with the giggling girls alone, thinking that Ginny probably wouldn’t appreciate their flirting. Neville had mastered the Curse quickly enough and after a few minutes of tutoring, Harry had left the girls to Neville and though Neville’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, he seemed content enough.

Harry wandered away from Neville, grinning as he listened to his friend stammering an explanation to one of the girls’ questions. He watched Ron and Hermione, each taking turns blasting a suit of armor and then headed toward Remus, who was demonstrating the proper pronunciation of the particular incantation. Harry waited patiently until Remus had finished and watched along with the Professor as Seamus reduced the suit of armor to dust. Harry congratulated his ecstatic bunkmate before Seamus went charging over to Dean to show off his newfound skill.

“Your fellows in the D.A. are catching on to everything we do much faster than the rest of the students,” Remus mused to Harry, his face gleaming in approval as he watched Dean perform almost as well as Seamus had a moment before.

Harry nodded. “I know. It was a brilliant idea,” he agreed, glancing at Hermione and Ron.

Remus followed his gaze. “It was a wonderful idea, Harry. But, you made it work. You gave all those students confidence….Have you ever considered becoming a teacher when you graduate?” he asked, his tone very serious.

But Harry laughed at the thought. “Me?” He shook his head, unable to imagine himself as Professor Potter. “I’m still thinking of becoming an Auror,” he told his friend.

“You’d do wonderfully as an Auror,” Remus told him as he nodded. Harry and Remus watched as a Malfoy and Zabini tried repeatedly to blast a suit of armor, but with little luck. “Harry,” Remus said after Malfoy finally managed to turn the suit’s head to little bits, “I have a message for you, if you’ll stay after class for a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry told him, knowing immediately who the message was from and since Remus hadn’t sounded stressed, Harry didn’t think there was anything to worry about.

He was glad however when class ended shortly afterward, giving Harry little time to dwell on the possibilities of what Snape could want. Ron and Hermione followed him up to Remus’ desk and Remus, though he glanced at his friends briefly, he didn’t object to their inclusion.

“Severus spoke to me this morning at breakfast. He wants you to earn yourself a detention in class tomorrow, with behavior severe enough to warrant you missing Hogsmeade on Saturday.”

Harry’s insides twisted. He didn’t like the sound of this at all. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to pretend I’m sick?” he asked, not liking the idea of antagonizing Snape in front of the class, no matter how staged it would be.

“I suggested that to Severus, but he insisted,” Remus told him, shaking his head a bit, probably in annoyance at Snape’s obvious pig-headedness.

Harry rubbed his palms together nervously. “What in Merlin’s name does he expect me to do that would be bad enough for him give me a Saturday detention?” he wondered aloud.

“You could blow up a cauldron,” Ron suggested, a little too eagerly. “Or…you could hex Malfoy,” he added, the glee now evident in his voice.

Harry made a face at him. “I really don’t think Snape was thinking along the lines of me hexing one of his Slytherins.”

Hermione cut in quickly as Ron tried to make another suggestion. “If you’re really disrespectful to him, it would perfectly believable for Snape to get angry enough to give you a detention on a Hogsmeade Saturday.”

Harry bit his lip, liking this idea least of all. He would, after all, need to be exceptionally rude to pull that off. For some reason, now that he knew Snape was his father, he just couldn’t fathom being purposefully rude to him. So he shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that,” he told them.

Hermione, instead of looking surprised, nodded as though she understood exactly why Harry wouldn’t want to insult Snape. Remus was nodding as well. Ron looked predictably skeptical at the idea that Harry couldn’t find some sort of insult to throw at Snape.

xxxxx

Harry was so nervous about Potions class the next day, he was very nearly late; he slid into his seat just as Snape was storming into the classroom. Harry breathed a sigh of relief only to have it hitch again with anxiety as Snape glared down at him as he scrambled to assemble his ingredients.

“Five points for tardiness, Potter,” he snapped and Harry felt the heat of anger rising in his cheeks; other students were still assembling their own ingredients. Harry just hoped this was part of the Potions Master’s act.

It was hard to believe though as Snape continued to glare at him until Harry finally muttered, “Yes, sir.” Snape spun away from him and began lecturing the class, calling on students randomly.

He called on Harry somewhere in the middle of the lecture and when Harry wasn’t able to answer the question to Snape’s satisfaction, the Professor sneered, “You do realize, Potter, that this is N.E.W.T. level Potions…or did you think you had stumbled into a first year class?”

“No, sir,” Harry bit out, trying desperately not to snap at the man. What the hell did Snape think he was doing?

Snape regarded Harry coldly. “Your answers are frequently pedantic and lacking in any coherent thought; perhaps a day spent with first years would do you some good.”

“And perhaps a day spent with anyone other than Death Eaters would do you some good, you-” Harry snapped, only just stopping himself from calling the Potions Master something he would definitely regret later.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and the expression on his face became positively grim. “Mind your tongue, Potter, before you find it in one of the jars in my private stores…I think a detention this evening will encourage you to keep a civil tone when you are speaking to me.”

Harry’s own eyes narrowed as he glared at Snape. Detention tonight? What had happened to a Saturday detention? This definitely wasn’t an act then, Harry realized as he sat staring at the Professor, whose black eyes by now were boring into Harry’s. Harry knew the man was waiting for a response; well, he could wait the rest of class…Harry wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not if Snape was going to play by the old rules.

“Have your ears been clogged by a Deafening Potion, Potter?” Snape finally spat, taking a step closer to Harry’s table.

“No,” Harry assured the angry Professor, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then you will answer me when I speak to you.” Snape’s snarled command echoed in the now silent classroom; all eyes were on Harry and Snape, most mouths twisted in surprise at Harry’s behavior. The Slytherins of course were all smirking…even Malfoy this time.

“If you prefer,” Harry said with an overconfident shrug. A vein began to pulse in Snape’s temple and Harry knew he’d gone too far. He swallowed nervously as Snape advanced on him. Snape leaned down toward Harry, his palms resting on the table, in a fair imitation of their first meeting after Harry’s third trip into the Pensieve. Harry leaned back.

“Your insolence will not be tolerated, Potter. Your have just lost yourself Hogsmeade privileges this Saturday. Now-get-out-of-my-classroom.” Each word was an explosive syllable and Harry, with ice clenching up against his heart, shoved himself to his feet. He fumbled for his bag, trying to ignore the stares of his classmates as he turned swiftly toward the door.

Once he had escaped the classroom, Harry kept going, swiftly navigating the winding corridors of the dungeons almost without thought. When he reached the ground floor again, he continued through the entrance doors and onto the grounds, his pace rapidly increasing to a run. Harry had no idea where he was going. He just wanted to get away. From everything.

xxxxx

Severus brought his hands to his temple and rubbed at the burgeoning headache with his fingertips as he watched the students entering the Great Hall for dinner. Why for Merlin’s sake, hadn’t he just taken the wolf’s advice and allowed Harry to feign an illness on Saturday? Severus knew the answer of course, but even the promise of the Dark Lord’s downfall seemed insignificant next to the prospect of losing his son again.

He hadn’t meant to let his temper turn the conversation quite so ugly. But Severus had seen the look on his son’s face when he’d told him to get out and the Potions Master knew instantly that he’d taken the charade too far. Harry’s obvious discomfort and confusion about Severus’ intentions at the beginning of the class had stirred feelings of pain in him and he’d wanted to end the chance of any more interactions with Harry. Harry’s expulsion from the classroom had seemed the ideal solution…until Severus had to watch his son flee from the room, like some sort of frightened animal.

Of course, his annoyance with Harry had already been firmly in place before class had even begun. Severus was well aware that the boy had ignored his clear instruction not to raise a Privacy Shield where others could discover it. He supposed however, that it had been an inappropriate time to vent his frustration. But why was it that Harry couldn’t even follow the simplest instructions?

And Severus hadn’t been expecting Harry’s verbal sparring to be quite so cutting and though he didn’t like to admit it, his son’s comment about Death Eaters had wounded him. Especially because the Potions Master knew Harry had insulted him in anger, not with any calculation. Severus tried to put aside the pointless recriminations. He would simply explain to Harry during his ‘detention’ that he had planned the initial remarks. Perhaps then, his son would not need to hold on to any lingering distress.

Severus thoughts had wandered along the same path for the better part of the past few hours and he was frankly relieved that in less than an hour, Harry would arrive in his classroom and they could end this discomfort. Severus scanned the Hall for Harry as the students continued to trickle into the room.

He narrowed his eyes as he saw Weasley and Ms. Granger, his son’s constant companions, enter the room alone. Ms. Weasley came in soon after that, hurrying to her brother and Ms. Granger. Ms. Weasley spoke, which was followed by a nervous shrug from Ms. Granger. A few more words passed between the clearly confused trio and then the Weasley girl’s eyes flashed up to Severus, her face lit in angry accusation. Then she said something to Harry’s other friends and spun on her heel, stomping from the room, leaving two very worried-looking Gryffindors in her wake. Severus watched her go, his mind working feverishly.

“Severus,” Lupin greeted him as he took his place beside the Potions Master. Severus knew immediately from Lupin’s easy tone that Harry had not gone to the werewolf to discuss this afternoon’s events. Instead of relieving him, Severus’ gut clenched in panic.

Harry had clearly been distraught earlier and if he hadn’t spoken with Lupin and wasn’t in the Great Hall as his friends thought he should have been, then where the hell was he? Without a word, Severus stood up and hurried out of the great hall, not caring in the least that Minerva would most likely want to have words about his abrupt departure from dinner.

1996

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked Hermione as soon as she came over to where her friend and brother were sitting at the Gryffindor table.

“Snape threw him out of Potions class,” Ron spat, the irritation on his face clear.

“We haven’t seen him since,” Hermione added, her own face, alight with concern.

Ginny narrowed her eyes, her temper igniting as she swung around to face the Head Table, finding Snape staring at the three of them, with what seemed almost to be concern on his harsh features. She had no idea what had transpired in Potions class, but if Snape had dismissed Harry from class and he had subsequently secluded himself somewhere, there was little hope that things had gone as planned.

With a final furious glower at Snape, Ginny snapped to Ron, “You could have told me Harry was missing.” And then, not waiting for an answer, she said tersely, “I’m going to find him.” With that, Ginny turned and stomped out of the Great Hall, her anger guiding her through the corridors of the castle.

She had spent the hours after her own afternoon classes had ended, in the Gryffindor common room, studying with the other fifth years. She had wondered briefly as the dinner hour drew closer why Harry hadn’t come to the Tower, but she had figured that he was occupied either with Lupin or in the library with Ron and Hermione, since they hadn’t made any specific plans to meet. As soon as Ginny had seen Ron and Hermione without Harry in the Great Hall however, she knew immediately that something wasn’t right.

Damn Snape anyway, she fumed as she made her way outside, knowing it was the most likely place for Harry to sequester himself if he was upset. Why couldn’t the impossible man just stop playing with Harry’s feelings? Didn’t Snape even care how much he was hurting him? He’d made him so upset this time that he’d actually run off, for Merlin’s sake.

Maybe he had gone to Hagrid’s she thought briefly but decided it was unlikely, as Hagrid had been at dinner. Ginny's annoyance was beginning to expand to Harry as well as she stormed through the huge Entrance doors. Why was his first predilection always flight when he was troubled? Harry should have found her or at least Lupin if he’d been angry enough to leave the castle.

Ginny’s anger evaporated though as she spotted Harry’s dejected form, sitting just out of reach of the Whomping Willow. It was not lost on Ginny that Harry had chosen to escape to the same place where he and Sirius had been when his godfather had invited him to live with him more than two years ago.

Ginny continued toward Harry, her heart heavy. When she reached him, she slid down next to him on the ground, reaching her fingers out to caress his cheek gently. Harry brought his troubled eyes up to meet her gaze. “What happened?” Ginny asked softly.

“I’m not sure,” Harry mumbled as he shook his head. “I don’t think I was ready to just act as if nothing had happened. Snape didn’t seem to have the same problem.” Harry’s face darkened, his tone turning bitter. Ginny scooted closer to him and took his hand.

“What did he say?”

Harry shrugged as he answered, “Called me incompetent, took points…the usual.”

Ginny hesitated before asking the obvious question, “But, wasn’t that what he was supposed to do?”

Harry chuckled darkly, leaning forward to pluck up a blade of grass. “Yep. It wasn’t hard for him at all. He acted exactly like he has been for five years…five years of hating me. He didn’t even hate my mother after he thought she had slept with James,” he finished, angrily flicking the little green blade from his fingers.

Ah. Ginny frowned in sudden understanding. This wasn’t really about Potions class today or even any insults Snape had so casually thrown at Harry. Harry was upset that Snape, his own father had hated him for so many years. Harry had witnessed how much the Professor had once loved him and with one simple lie, that love seemed to have been washed away. If Harry hadn’t found that Pensieve, Snape would hate him still.

Ginny knew that Harry had been keeping these worries firmly at bay, concentrating instead on the new Snape he was getting to know. At various times in the past few weeks, she had sensed similar feelings bubbling at the surface but Harry had squelched them every time they tried to break free, the reaction purely unconscious. Harry, she was realizing, was a master at hiding from unpleasant truths, although Ginny couldn’t be exactly sure what the truth was here.

“Harry, it’s okay for you to be angry about the way Snape treated you,” she tried and the attempt earned her a small smile.

Harry began tracing circles along the inside of her arm with his index finger; the delicate motion sent shivers up Ginny’s spine. Harry smiled at her reaction, letting himself become distracted for a moment and he leaned in to kiss her. Ginny obliged but then pulled back firmly and chided, “You can’t ignore this anymore, Harry. Not if it bothers so much that you had to run away.”

“I didn’t run away, Gin,” Harry sighed, pulling her closer. Ginny gave him a skeptical look and he chuckled. “Okay, fine, I did run away. I didn’t know what else to do, I guess.”

“You could have found me…or Lupin. Ron and Hermione are worried about you, you know. You could have talked to any of us.” Ginny hadn’t mean to sound hurt that Harry hadn’t come to her, but the remorseful look that crossed his face was indication enough that she had.

“I wasn’t trying to shut you out, Ginny. All of you were in class,” he tried to explain and Ginny nodded, not wanting to add to Harry’s guilt. She felt him relax a little against her.

“Well next time, just wait for one of us, okay? You shouldn’t be wandering around on your own anyway, especially if the Slytherins are spying on you.” Her voice had taken on a firm edge and Harry smiled again. Ginny frowned at him.

“All right,” he promised as she continued to glower at him. He laughed and added, “You’re even stricter than Snape.” Ginny laughed as well.

“I doubt that. You’re just lucky he didn’t find you first,” she teased, her cheeks flushing slightly as Harry’s smile grew warmer, his emerald eyes lighting as he watched her.

“Hmmm,” he murmured and leaned in again toward her. He pressed his lips to hers. Ginny, forgetting all about Snape for the moment, wrapped her arms around Harry and lost herself in his embrace.

------

Damn, Severus cursed silently as he navigated the deserted corridors. With simple deduction, it was obvious that Harry wasn’t in the castle anymore. The other Gryffindors would have seen him had he been in any of the likely places. That left only the grounds of Hogwarts to search. Only. What in Merlin’s name had the boy been thinking, leaving the castle proper, all alone? Hadn’t Severus made it plain that such an act was utterly foolish right now? He only hoped Harry hadn’t been stupid enough to actually leave the grounds.

Severus made his way through the great entrance doors and down the steps, his agitation growing with each step. No matter how upset Harry had been, there was simply no excuse for reckless behavior. But his son had been nothing if not reckless over the past five years and the Headmaster had encouraged that particular trait of Harry’s every step of the way. Not for the first time, Severus wished he could wring the jovial Headmaster’s neck.

Now where the hell would Harry go? Severus’ initial inclination was that the boy would go to the gamekeeper’s hut, but Hagrid had been in the Great Hall, and even the overgrown imbecile would surely have brought Harry back to the castle with him. If Harry had bothered to listen, that is.

Growling quietly, Severus continued on, his pace quickening as he began to explore the very real possibility that Harry had ventured into the Forbidden Forest. If his son had done something that irresponsible, the boy would bloody well be scrubbing cauldrons for the next month, Severus vowed to himself recklessly as his mounting anxiety took his mind toward the ridiculous.

Just as various scenarios, each one depicting a more grisly death than the first for Harry, began to run through his mind, Severus was brought up short. He had no idea how he’d even gotten to the Whomping Willow, but there, only a few feet from him was his son, with his arms wrapped around the Weasley girl, their lips firmly locked together.

Harry spotted Severus a second later and the boy hastily untangled his limbs from Ms. Weasley’s and scrambled to his feet, his face scarlet. Ms. Weasley took her time standing, her cheeks red as well but the girl seemed more angry than embarrassed.

The three of them stared at each other for a moment before Severus finally erected the most complex Privacy Spells he knew and then barked out, all his worry turning solidly to fury, “Explain yourself!”

Harry took an involuntary step back, while Ms. Weasley folded her arms across her chest and rapped out, “It’s called kissing.”

Severus clenched his fists and leaned in toward Ms. Weasley. Harry immediately stepped in between them, his stance purely protective. “Leave her alone,” Harry warned calmly and Severus drew back, uncomfortably reminded of his own protectiveness toward Lily.

Severus Occluded his mind, willing himself to reign in his emotions as they threatened to spin wildly out of control. Harry was watching him, his eyes brightly lit in challenge. As if the boy was taunting him. “You have no business being out of the castle alone,” Severus said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Ginny’s with me,” Harry corrected.

Severus’ jaw worked in agitation at Harry’s attempted misdirection. “And I am aware of exactly how long Ms. Weasley has been with you,” he bit out caustically.

Ms. Weasley pursed her lips. “If you hadn’t thrown Harry out of class, he wouldn’t even be wandering around alone, Professor,” the girl retorted, stepping around Harry, most likely so she could glare more easily.

Severus glared down at the girl, though he was careful not to move toward her. “I do not believe your presence is required here, Ms. Weasley.”

Harry bristled, his back straightening. “Then, we’ll both just go.”

“You will stay here,” Severus snapped. Harry narrowed his eyes, clearly going over his options in his head. Perhaps it would not be so easy to smooth things over with the boy.

“Then Ginny stays too,” he informed Severus stubbornly.

Severus considered demanding that the girl leave, but decided such a step would only serve to widen the divide between him and his son. “Fine,” he acceded through clenched teeth. Harry smirked at him and Severus finally lost his temper at Harry’s insolence. “It seems it was a wise decision to give you detention tonight, as you obviously need an incentive to learn some respect,” Severus spat, not pausing to consider his words.

It was a poor choice of words, indeed. Harry exploded, “Me?” the boy raged, his voice ringing absurdly through the sparse cover of foliage above their heads.

“Lower your voice,” Severus reprimanded automatically, forgetting for an instant that no one could possibly hear or even see them.

“No,” Harry refused, his voice not lessening in volume in the least and then the boy sagged a little around the shoulders. He shook his head. “I’m tired of this,” Harry said quietly. “You don’t have to do this anymore, all right? You can just start hating me again. You already did it once.” The boy’s voice was a mere whisper now and Severus’ heart jumped into his throat at the unexpected words.

Rendered speechless, the Potions Master watched his son take Ms. Weasley’s hand in his own and turn away from him. And somehow Severus knew that if he let Harry walk away now, he would never get him back.

“Harry…” Severus breathed coarsely. “…wait…”

Harry stopped, his back still turned to the Professor. Ms. Weasley, standing firmly next to his son, turned her head so that she was looking right into Severus’ dark eyes. Her own brown eyes were beseeching, begging him to fix this, to finally be Harry’s father again.

With every thought turned to the woman he still loved and the son she had given him, Severus drew a deep breath, and said the impossible words, “I do not wish to forget that you are my son. Not again.”

Harry turned around, his face filled with pain. “But you did. I know you still love my mum. How could have just stopped loving me?” Harry’s voice broke and sorrow filled Severus’ mind.

“I-” he faltered, but the words would not come. How could he explain to his son what he had gone through the night that Lily had told him that Harry was not his son? How could he explain the pain that had severed him when he’d learned that Lily had died? That he had mourned the death of a son that night as well? He could not. Not with words.

Slowly, his voice faltering with renewed grief, Severus whispered, “I do not think I can explain.” Harry’s face crumpled and he started to turn away again. “I can show you…if you will allow me,” Severus offered tentatively and his son’s emerald eyes shone with undisguised hope. “I will need to enter your mind,” Severus clarified, wanting Harry to understand before he made his decision. But Harry didn’t waste any time in thought. He nodded quickly.

Severus barely noticed as Ms. Weasley quietly slipped outside the boundaries of the Privacy Spell and the Potions Master felt a moment of gratitude toward the girl before gesturing Harry to come closer. His son moved forward.

Severus took a few steps toward his son until they were standing quite close. Severus held up his hands, indicating to Harry that he would need to touch him, not trusting himself to speak. Harry nodded jerkily. As gently as he could, the Potions Master brought both of his hands to cradle either side of Harry’s face, his thumbs resting on the boy’s cheek bones.

Harry’s eyes were wide as Severus angled his head slightly. As it was in Albus’ office and later in the Potions classroom, this joining of minds would be done without aid of a wand. Severus gazed deep into Harry’s green eyes as he slowly drew the caged memories from the wells of his own mind.

“Severus…please.” Severus finally looked up from the complex potion he was brewing as Albus’ voice became a desperate plea.

“What is it, Albus?” Severus asked impatiently, wanting to get back to his favorite distraction.

“Can you step through to my office?” Severus frowned and opened his mouth to argue with the Headmaster but Albus interrupted, “Just for a moment…please.” There was something off in the old wizard’s tone and feeling slightly wary, Severus placed a Stasis Charm over the temperamental potion and finally acquiesced to the Headmaster’s wishes; he stepped through the Floo and found himself a second later in Albus’ office at Hogwarts. Albus was alone.

“Sit, if you would Severus.” The grave tone had not left Albus’ voice. Severus, his apprehension heightening, sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. Albus sat across from him and folded his aged hands in his lap. “Severus,” he began, not wasting any more time, “Voldemort attacked your house tonight…James and Lily are dead.”

Severus grasped the arms of the chair, as he felt himself reeling, the waves of dizziness beginning to overtake him. Lily. “No,” Severus whispered, unwilling to believe this; the roiling nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The Potions Master felt his hand patted gently and heard someone whispering something from somewhere, very distantly. Something about Harry. His son? But no, his Harry was gone, as dead as Lily now was.

Lily and Harry were gone. Severus’ vision began to darken, until there was nothing but black and Severus was no longer aware of himself. There was only blistering waves of burning fire, fire so hot, it consumed him, burned through him in a raging inferno; Severus gave in to the beckoning flames as they buried him. Buried his beloved wife and son…

And there they lay, beneath the fiery depths for ten years.

Severus watched the new batch of first years disinterestedly as Minerva paraded them into the Great Hall. He paid little attention to the sea of young faces, nodding discreetly to young Malfoy, after the boy was sorted into Slytherin House. Severus’ long and forced association with the Malfoys was still as tiresome as it always had been. It was necessary though as he continued in his feigned role as a spy for the Dark Lord and so Severus played his part, pretending mild affection for Draco and friendship toward Draco’s loathsome father.

“Potter, Harry.” Severus’ eyes flashed up at the innocuous call. A boy with a mop of messy black hair walked nervously toward the Sorting Hat. Harry. Severus had known of course that the boy would be starting at Hogwarts this term. He had thought he had prepared himself. But, as Severus’ gut squirmed spasmodically with remembered pain, he knew he had not really been ready to see the boy he had buried ten years ago.

“Gryffindor!” the Hat shouted after a long debate and something inside Severus shriveled. Potter’s son seemed to sigh in relief as he jumped down off the stool. He sauntered, just as his bastard father had always done, over to his new House table amidst the asinine cheering of half the Great Hall.

After Albus had uttered his inanities and the night’s festivities were underway, Severus forced his thoughts back to the details of his duties for the rest of the night and on into tomorrow. He would need to greet his Slytherins tonight in the common room after dinner. Severus scanned the Great Hall watching the students as they dug, without adequate manners, into their meal.

Without warning, a pair of familiar emerald eyes was gazing into Severus’ own. Lily.

But these eyes did not belong to his beloved Lily. They were the eyes of her son…hers and Potter’s. And in that instant, all the feelings of disgust and self-loathing broke through the Potions Master’s carefully erected shields and all Severus’ hatred toward the Gryffindor traitor who had stolen his family, twisted in unfair revulsion against this boy.

Severus glared at the creature, at the child who had usurped his family and replaced his Harry, the boy he still loved as fiercely as he loved Lily. And Severus wished he had never vowed to protect Potter’s son.

------

Forgive me.

Harry knew he was crying, the sobs shaking him violently as Snape’s memories dissipated from his mind. And, as his thoughts cleared, Harry realized that the tremors were not coming solely from him; his father’s rough hands were trembling on Harry’s cheeks and when Harry focused on the Potions Master’s angular face, he saw tears glimmering in his eyes.

Harry closed his eyes and froze beneath Snape’s grasp, not wanting to invade on such a private moment, but then Harry was pulled unceremoniously into Snape’s chest and he felt strong hands grabbing at him, clutching him as though the man was desperately drawing strength from him.

It was much more than Harry could have expected. Snape had opened himself up to him, made himself vulnerable and Harry knew now how much the Professor had wanted him to understand. And, in a way, Harry did understand. Snape had never stopped loving him…not really. The man had allowed his hatred of James to warp him until the feelings transferred themselves onto the boy he thought was James’ son, having effectively buried the little boy from the Pensieve years before.

Snape had offered him the memories as an explanation, as a plea to understand. The memories couldn’t take away the hurt that Harry still felt so sharply, but they did help. His father’s arms around him helped even more.

Tentatively, feeling more afraid than he ever had, Harry brought his arms up and slowly put them around Snape, applying cautious pressure until he felt his father’s hand on his head, the fingers gently weaving themselves into Harry’s hair and Harry felt himself relax, except his arms as they tightened their hold around the Professor.

Harry had no idea how long they stayed that way but when he could no longer stand the feelings of guilt that were swirling inside him, he finally blurted into Snape’s chest, “I’m sorry for what I said…about the Death Eaters.” He had tried and succeeded fairly well to keep his voice steady as he apologized.

In the last few hours, he had gone over and over their exchange in Potions class and had wished each time that he had not said those words. Harry knew that it was not his father’s choosing to associate with the dark witches and wizards of Voldemort’s inner circle and he felt terrible for having implied anything of the sort.

As the apology left his mouth, Snape stiffened and Harry felt a moment of panic that his father would push him away. Instead, the arm around Harry tightened briefly and Snape said softly, “I should not have provoked you. It was foolish to think you would not be affected by my taunting…I-” Snape’s voice faltered before he continued stiffly, “I did not mean the things I said.”

“I think I knew that,” Harry murmured as he nodded. He felt Snape shaking his head.

“Even so, it was not a wise course of action. Your feelings toward me are not strong enough to withstand such testing.” Stunned at the naked hurt in the Professor’s voice, Harry reared back from his father.

“That’s not true,” Harry objected fiercely.

Snape looked down at him, his black eyes filled with regret. “I do not expect you to feel as I do.”

Harry swallowed. “How do you feel?” he asked timidly, fearing he was overstepping some invisible line. But Snape held his gaze.

“You are my son.” They were the same words Snape had uttered after the Filial Potion had proved them to be true, but the meaning this time was clear this time and the shadowed warmth in his father’s eyes was unmistakable.

“And, you’re my father,” Harry returned, hoping Snape would understand his meaning just as well. But, just in case the stubborn man couldn’t, he added, “I care about you too.” Pleased surprise flared in his father’s eyes for an instant and Harry grinned at the subtle reaction. Basking in the moment, Harry asked with a grin, “Do I still have detention tonight?”

Harry was sure the man almost smiled as he answered, “We do have to keep up appearances. I believe however that we can find something less unpleasant than the usual removal of frog innards, for you to do.”

Harry made a face at the image that conjured in his head. “Good,” he approved. Snape shook his head, clearly amused by Harry’s reaction to the idea of gutting frogs. Harry shrugged. “It’s disgusting,” he explained.

“Indeed,” Snape agreed. “That is most likely why I use it as a punishment, instead of a reward,” the man added sardonically.

Harry smiled again. “At least it’s not as bad as cleaning toilets for Filch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Snape promised and Harry laughed.

“As long as you don’t keep it in mind for me.”

His father narrowed his eyes slightly. “You have plans to earn yourself further detentions?” he questioned, his voice coated in curious amusement.

Harry grinned. “You never know, Professor,” he said with a shrug. Snape stiffened suddenly and Harry quickly amended, “I was only kidding, sir,” having no idea how he could have upset the man. And then with sudden insight, as his thoughts flashed back to his and Ginny’s conversation in the common room and back further to Hermione’s declaration in the Great Hall, Harry flushed.

Snape’s reaction had obviously been in response to being called ‘Professor’. But, how could Harry call the stern man anything other than Professor…or sir? Snape surely wouldn’t want him to address him any other way…would he?

With a start, Harry realized that his father was watching him as he tried to organize his thoughts. His father. He had already said the words aloud to Snape once and the Professor had not corrected him. Harry realized too that he had been referring to Snape that way in his head, since even before the man had hugged him.

Before Harry could make any sort of decision, Snape commented, “You need not do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Harry blinked in surprise. Were his thoughts really so transparent? “I’m not sure what to call you anymore,” he admitted.

His father averted his eyes. “I would prefer you not address me as ‘Snape’; otherwise the choice is yours.”

Hearing the Professor using his own family name made Harry realize how hard it must have been for Snape to give his only son a name that was not his own. Wanting to change the subject from the uncomfortable one they had stumbled upon, Harry asked, “Is my last name really Potter?”

Snape’s eyes snapped back to look at Harry and his lips twitched; Harry knew his father recognized his pathetic tactic. “It is.”

Harry nodded, slowly thinking about the other question that had plagued him relentlessly over the past few weeks. He was sure he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway, “Did my mum use a Charm to change the way I really look?”

“Not precisely,” Snape told him. When Harry tilted his head in confusion, Snape continued, “Before you were even born, your mother devised a Charm to weave some of James’ genes with your own, so that your appearance would combine James’ features with Lily’s and mine.”

“You manipulated my genes?” Harry asked, incredulous.

His father nodded. “The ones affecting your appearance, yes.”

“So, I really look like this, then?”

Snape nodded again. “That is your true appearance.”

“Mum was bloody brilliant,” Harry breathed and that time, Snape really did smile, though on anyone else, it would have been termed a frown.

“She was,” his father agreed.

Harry had to admit, he was relieved that he would not have to worry about suddenly changing into a new person. It was a strange feeling however to realize that he should perhaps have looked like someone else...maybe like Snape.

“It is late,” the Professor interrupted Harry’s rapidly wandering thoughts.

Harry nodded. “Should I just come to your classroom then…instead of Flooing to your quarters?” he asked, remembering that he still had to pretend to have detention.

Snape nodded. “I will inform Lupin of our change in plans.” Harry nodded and then his father added, “I am going to place a Disillusionment Charm on myself. We should not be seen walking the grounds together.”

Harry watched as Snape disappeared, grinning at the sight. “Brilliant,” he enthused.

“I will walk with you back to the castle. You really should not be alone on the grounds, Harry.” The slightly stern rebuke made Harry’s ears burn and he was glad he could not see the Professor as the man was probably glaring at him.

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled, not really sure where to look so that he wouldn’t be facing his father. He looked straight up though, in surprise, as he felt the light squeeze of a hand on his shoulder.

“We should go,” Snape’s disembodied voice suggested, the tone almost gentle and Harry nodded.

With a few quick words, the Privacy Spell dissolved and Harry and his father walked away from the Whomping Willow. They didn’t talk as they climbed the hill back to the castle, but that was okay with Harry, as his mind was spinning with everything that had passed between them.

When the pair reached the bottom of the stairs leading into Hogwarts, Harry stopped. Remus was sitting on the bottom step, gazing toward the Whomping Willow. His friend stood as soon as he spotted Harry.

“Is everything all right, Harry?” Remus asked and Harry’s stomach clenched painfully as he waited for Snape’s angry retort. But Remus’ question was greeted with silence.

Harry nodded his friend, disappointment washing through him as he realized Snape had probably continued on up the steps. But then Harry felt a hand press against his back, urging him to move and Harry couldn’t help smiling at Snape’s silent demand. Harry started moving again, and Remus walked with him.

“I met Ginny out here a little while ago,” Remus told him as they walked up the stairs. “She wanted to wait for you but I sent her inside.”

Harry nodded, understanding both of the messages his friend was giving him. He smiled at the thought of Ginny. “How long did it take you to convince her to go?” Harry asked.

Remus chuckled. “Ron and Hermione finally dragged her inside. Otherwise, I don’t think she would have gone.”

“Ron and Hermione were out here as well?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Mmm,” Remus affirmed. “It seems they were worried about where you’d gotten to,” he explained, giving his young friend a rather pointed look.

Harry sighed. “I know, I know. I’ve already been reprimanded twice tonight.”

“Twice?” Remus echoed, glancing over at Harry.

“Yeah…Ginny wasn’t too thrilled with me, either,” Harry admitted, grinning sheepishly.

Remus chuckled. “She’s just like Molly, that one.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, thinking fondly of Mrs. Weasley’s formidable temper and realizing how much he appreciated her daughter’s strength. “Did Ginny tell you I have detention tonight?” he asked, figuring he might as well tell Remus himself.

Remus nodded. “She also told me to tell you that you’d best find your way to the common room as soon as Professor Snape lets you out.” Remus looked very much like he was trying not to laugh.

Harry’s cheeks warmed as they passed through the big doors. He and Remus continued on toward the dungeons, and Harry wondered briefly why his friend was escorting him to his ‘detention’. Perhaps there had really been something to Snape’s seemingly hysterical anger that he had been outside the castle alone.

1996

“I wish you were coming with us,” Ginny sighed as she pulled away from Harry on the sofa.

Harry brought Ginny back into his arms. “Me too,” he agreed before kissing her again.

Ginny smiled. “I could stay here,” she offered in a teasing voice but Harry’s heart skipped a beat anyway at the thought. The idea of the two of them here together, alone, was certainly a pleasant one.

“You could.” he answered in all seriousness and Ginny leaned closer to him, nestling into his side.

“I can stay if you want me to, Harry.” Her tone this time was solemn as well, and Harry knew she was giving him a chance to back away from the commitment he’d made.

Harry sighed. He hadn’t spoken to Snape since he and Remus had walked into the Potions classroom with Harry on Thursday evening. As soon as Snape had reversed his Disillusionment Charm, he’d informed Harry that Voldemort was calling.

Fear had gripped Harry instantly and Snape had assured him quietly, “I will be fine.” And then his father had continued, his voice hardening, “Do not leave the Tower. Is that clear?”

Harry had nodded shakily, his heart beating faster as his father studied him briefly and then Snape was Flooing away, his face a blank mask.

Harry stayed up most of that night, alternating between pacing and re-writing the same two lines of his Potions essay. His friends had tried to stay up with him, until Harry had finally ordered the dozing Gryffindors to leave the common room.

Ginny of course, had refused to go and so Harry had eventually sat down on the sofa, pulling Ginny to him. He had wrapped an arm around her as she put her head on his shoulder, whispering quietly to her to sleep. Ginny had obliged and though Harry hadn’t meant to, he soon fell asleep as well. When he’d awoken early the next morning, he and Ginny had been inexplicably covered in one of the blankets from Harry’s bed and there was a small vial, labeled Essence of Clover in a tidy, familiar script, sitting on the low table in front of them.

Harry had seen the Potions Master in the Great Hall yesterday at dinner but had not dared to make eye contact with him. And even though Harry had been touched by Snape’s gesture, he was incredibly nervous to see the man. He had no idea how he was supposed to act around him anymore…he was even less sure about what he should call him when he saw him next…if indeed he managed to call him anything at all.

“Harry?” Ginny prodded, breaking into his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Harry smiled. “I’ll be all right,” he tried to assure her as she studied him.

“I’ll be here when you finish with Snape,” she promised and Harry smiled at the thought, just as Ginny’s friends came loudly down the stairs from the dorms. Their chattering stopped immediately as they saw Harry and Ginny together on the couch.

“You’d better go, Gin,” Harry said resignedly as he pulled her to her feet. Ginny stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss and Harry blushed as the giggling started. Ginny rolled her eyes and with a little wave to Harry, she allowed herself to be shepherded from the common room by her friends.

Harry sighed and flopped back onto the sofa, wishing that he hadn’t agreed to spend the day with Snape. He was in the middle of debating whether or not to just stay in the common room when Ron’s voice rang out in exasperation, “Why does it take so long for girls to get ready?”

Harry twisted his head around to watch as Ron and Neville descended the rest of the way down the stairs. He grinned at his agitated friend. Harry thought of mentioning that Ginny rarely seemed to need any more time than he did to get ready but thought it would probably only irritate Ron further so he just shrugged, “I don’t know, but judging by beauty alone, it should be you who takes longer.”

Ron made a face at Harry which he returned. Neville, standing next to Ron, looked extremely nervous. “You all right, Neville?” Harry questioned his reticent friend. Neville nodded jerkily.

“Neville’s got a date,” Ron informed Harry conspiratorially. Harry drew closer to the arm of the sofa, so he could get a better look at the nervous boy.

“Really? Who with?” he asked and then Harry laughed as Neville, with cheeks flaming, quickly stammered out the name of one of the Ravenclaw girls Harry had forced upon him the other day. “Brilliant!” Harry congratulated his friend and Neville actually managed a timid smile.

Ron, bored quickly of the talk of Neville’s conquest, stomped over to the stairs and called out impatiently, “Hurry up, Hermione!” He opened his mouth to shout some more but Hermione appeared then and Ron quickly snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks warming with a pleased blush. Hermione stepped into the common room; Ron smiled stupidly at her.

Harry, biting his lip to hide his grin, shook his head at his bumbling friend. Hermione was smiling shyly at Ron and Harry had to admit, she did look nice.

“Wow, Hermione,” Ron breathed appreciatively and Hermione blushed in response. Not even moving his eyes from his girlfriend, Ron asked distractedly, “Ready, Harry?”

Wanting to answer in the negative, Harry pushed himself to his feet and waited for Hermione and Ron to quit staring at one another. “I’m ready,” he accentuated pointedly and shook his head as the mildly dazed pair turned and walked out the portrait hole. Harry and Neville followed them.

They walked down to the entrance hall, where Neville met his giggling date. Neville, stammering even more than he had in class, offered the Ravenclaw his elbow which she accepted with another titter. For some reason, the two overly nervous couples made Harry miss Ginny even more.

Most of the other students had already left through the big double doors and Harry leaned against a wall, watching them go. He straightened up automatically when he saw Snape spinning slowly down from Dumbledore’s office; Remus was standing one step above him. Remus smiled when he saw Harry. Snape ignored Harry completely as he turned toward the dungeons, his dark robes flapping behind him. And even though Harry knew his father had no other choice right now, Harry couldn’t help the frown that twisted his lip.

Remus’ light touch against his shoulder made Harry jump a bit; he hadn’t realized he was so jittery. “Ready for your detention?” his friend asked, his tone light. Harry nodded and with his nerves jangling ferociously, Harry turned and followed Remus down toward the dungeons.

They reached the Potions Classroom much too quickly for Harry and before Remus could push open the door, Harry grabbed his arm. Remus looked over at him in surprise. Harry felt sick. “I can’t,” he whispered.

“Harry?” Remus’ eyes shone in concern; Harry looked away. “What’s wrong?” Remus asked him.

Harry shook his head. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to…” he trailed off, his fingers twisting against Remus’ sleeve.

Remus gingerly removed his arm from Harry’s grasp and cupped a hand around the back of Harry’s neck. He urged Harry to look up at him, and when Harry did, Remus smiled, the expression an echo of that day in Mrs. Weasley’s kitchen.

“It’ll be alright,” he promised quietly. Harry tried to nod but he ended up simply staring morosely into Remus’ gentle eyes.

The door to Snape’s classroom swung open. Harry turned toward the towering man in the doorway. The Professor was glaring down at both of them and Remus removed his hand from Harry’s neck.

“Do you intend to loiter outside my classroom all day?” Snape inquired, his voice ringing with sarcasm.

Keeping his gaze averted, Harry mutely shook his head and scooted past his father, and into the Potions classroom. He watched, his bottom lip clamped firmly between his teeth, as Snape slammed the door right in Remus’ surprised face.

Snape spun around, the glare still firmly in place. But then his father’s features shifted, so that he was only frowning slightly down at Harry. “Are you unwell?” he inquired.

Harry blinked in surprise at the bewildering question. “Sir?”

Snape’s stern mouth turned down further. “You are pale,” the man explained and took a quick step toward Harry, one of his hands reaching out to graze the palm against Harry’s forehead.

Harry shook his head away from Snape’s light touch and backed up a couple of steps. “I’m not sick,” he denied.

Snape’s hand fluttered uselessly back to his side and the familiar mask slipped back into place. Snape nodded curtly. “Was there something in particular you wished to accomplish today?”

Harry stared. “No, sir,” he answered truthfully. He gestured half-heartedly to the sack slung over his shoulder. “I brought my assignments,” he offered, hoping his father wouldn’t accuse him of laziness…or perhaps procrastination. Snape was, after all, the one who had assigned Harry the two foot essay, that was due on Tuesday, an essay which Harry hadn’t even started yet.

“I could use your help with a potion I am brewing,” Snape informed him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Harry.

Harry shrugged, turning his eyes toward the large blackboard in the front of the room.

“A verbal response is considered polite,” Snape rebuked.

Harry turned his eyes back to the Professor. “Fine,” he agreed and Harry swallowed as Snape’s jaw tensed.

“Come, then,” was all the man said and Harry had no choice but to follow Snape toward the Floo.

Side by side, they stepped into the classroom Floo and out of Snape’s own. Snape didn’t even pause; he continued on toward a door to the left. Harry followed him into a pristine lab, everything perfectly ordered and labeled. Harry grinned, somehow finding this room perfectly, well…Snapeish.

Harry stepped interestedly toward a gently bubbling cauldron.

“Do not touch anything,” came Snape’s sharp command.

Harry pulled back from the cauldron and asked curiously, “What is it?”

Snape began taking flasks and vials from a tall storage cabinet, glancing at Harry as he answered, “Wolfsbane.”

Harry leaned toward the cauldron again. “When does Remus need to start taking it?” he asked as he reached a finger out toward the rim of the cauldron, though he was careful not to touch it.

Snape had finished organizing his little group of ingredients. He glowered at Harry and Harry brought his hand back away from the cauldron, his own lips turned down in a frown. How careless did his father think he was?

“Today,” Snape informed him as he turned back to his supplies.

Harry didn’t answer. He set his bag down on the floor, sliding it with his toe until it was underneath the table. Then he stood uncertainly, with his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.

“I need the stalks of three Juniper roots sliced into half-inch pieces. The measurements need to be exact. Do you think you can manage that?”

Snape had trained his black eyes on Harry again and Harry stiffened at the question. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure even I can manage that,” he said sarcastically.

“Excellent,” Snape drawled and gestured dismissively to the pile of Juniper roots on the table.

Well this was certainly much more fun that a day in Hogsmeade would have been, Harry thought bitterly as he chose three roots from the pile. With a knife exactly like the one Snape had drawn blood with weeks ago, Harry began the meticulous chore of slicing. “What are we making?” Harry asked, not even bothering to temper his curt tone.

He saw Snape’s hand tighten against the pestle he was holding. “We are adding to the Wolfsbane,” his father told him, barely moving his lips as he spoke.

Harry stopped slicing as he looked up at Snape in surprise. “But Juniper’s not an ingredient in Wolfsbane,” he objected.

Snape’s face relaxed a measure, as if the man was relieved he had known the ingredient list of Wolfsbane Potion. As if he was glad that his son wasn’t a complete moron when it came to potions. “I have been working on an improved formulation,” Snape explained and Harry forgot his annoyance.

“Improved? How does it work?” he wanted to know.

“Lupin no longer experiences the effect of the full moon.”

“What?” Harry demanded, flabbergasted. “He’s cured? Why didn’t he tell me?” he asked, stunned and bewildered at this news. Remus didn’t have to turn into a werewolf anymore? Ever?

Snape didn’t even look up as he said dryly, “Perhaps because you never asked him.”

Harry looked up sharply at the implication in Snape’s statement. But before Harry could deny that he had been selfish in his friendship with Remus, Snape continued, “And, he has not been cured. The Potion simply allows Lupin to retain his strength and sanity during the three day period during which he used to lock himself away.”

“Simply?” Harry repeated, amazed at what Snape was telling him. “That sounds pretty complicated to me…not to mention bloody brilliant!” he finished enthusiastically. Snape raised his eyebrows, as though in a shrug of acceptance of Harry’s compliment. Feeling energized by the idea of helping his friend, Harry happily went back to his slicing, asking as he did, “How did you figure it out?”

Snape made a small noise, which might have been a snort, or a chuckle. “Albus and I have been working on the new formula for years. Lupin is not the only werewolf.”

Harry nodded, beginning to understand. “So the Headmaster’s trying to recruit werewolves to the fight against Voldemort?”

His father nodded. “Yes.”

Harry finished slicing the last root. He set the knife down and moved the small pile close to the cauldron of simmering Potion. “Is that where Dumbledore went…to recruit werewolves?”

Snape hesitated before answering, “No. Add the slices, two by two,” he directed and Harry complied with the first two pieces of Juniper root.

“But it does have to do with Voldemort, right?” Harry pressed, paying no attention to Snape’s frown as he continued to put the slices in the cauldron. “Is he recruiting someone else?” he wondered, eyeing his father eagerly for an answer.

“The Headmaster’s doings are not your concern,” Snape told him, his voice harsher than it had been a moment ago.

Harry was not bothered by Snape’s tone though. He leaned forward, his palms pressing against the warm table top. “Everything Dumbledore’s been doing since I survived Voldemort’s curse has concerned me though, hasn’t it?” Harry’s tone was filled only with curiosity and even Snape couldn’t have accused him of insolence.

------

Severus narrowed his eyes at his son, taken aback by the lack of sarcasm in the boy’s question. And he really didn’t know how to respond. Harry was of course correct in that virtually everything the Headmaster had done during the past 15 years had somehow involved him. Severus did not want to answer in the affirmative however, and give Harry any more reason to search for further answers about Albus’ whereabouts. Harry had enough to worry about without burdening himself with things he could not change.

“Harry,” Severus finally said quietly, hoping the invocation of his son’s name would still Harry’s temper, “there are some things that you need not know.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “Everyone’s been telling me that for years…and they’ve all been wrong. If I had known more about Voldemort…about everything from the beginning, maybe Sirius wouldn’t have had to die.”

Harry’s face revealed his deep distress and Severus wished he could somehow find a way to ease his son’s pain. But he couldn’t, because Harry had a point. As much as he’d hated the mutt, Black’s death had been pointless…and avoidable. Even though Severus would have denied it vehemently during the past years, Harry was not stupid. Things might have turned out very differently if Albus had told Harry about the prophecy from the beginning.

Severus pursed his lips, thinking how best to respond but Harry turned away, dropping in the last two slices of Juniper root. “Does Remus still need to take the Potion for a week?” Harry asked, changing the subject. And although his voice was soft, Severus knew he was still thinking about Black.

Severus obliged grudgingly to his son’s wish to switch topics. “Yes. But it does not need to be fresh, as with the earlier version. Lupin can take a flask with him while he’s away.”

“Away?” Harry’s head shot up immediately. “Where’s he going?” he demanded, his voice rising in what Severus could only call panic. Severus frowned at his son. He had assumed Lupin would have told Harry already.

“He’s leaving the castle this evening. He’ll be away for several days,” he offered and Harry’s cheeks paled a bit.

“Where’s he going?”

“He will be on an errand for the Headmaster,” Severus explained and if possible, Harry’s alarm seemed to heighten and Severus watched in disquiet as his son’s hand trembled against his knife. Severus frowned further. Why should this news distress the boy so much?

“Is Dumbledore trying to kill everybody I care about?” Harry snapped suddenly, his voice sounding somewhat strangled. Severus stepped toward him, almost instinctively, but stilled abruptly as Harry stepped back a pace.

“I’m all right.” The lie was even more transparent than the fear in his son’s eyes.

“Lupin will be fine,” Severus tried, keeping his tone purposely disinterested, hoping that Harry could see there was no reason for his excessive worry. But Harry folded his arms over his chest and snorted.

“Right. And I suppose next you’re going to tell me that you’ll be fine as well, once Voldemort finds out about us or even after he decides to kill you for his own amusement?” he asked sarcastically.

Severus raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “The Dark Lord is not going to kill me, Harry,” he assured his son, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. Really, the child was overdramatic.

Severus was quite startled when Harry suddenly erupted, “Oh, would you stop calling him that? Voldemort, it’s Voldemort! You’re not a bloody Death Eater, dammit! Even Ginny and Hermione can use his name! Why can’t you?”

Severus, in those next minutes, was extremely glad he had erected his shields when Harry had shown the first signs that morning of doing exactly what Albus and Lupin had assured Severus he would. The Potions Master’s pursed lips were the only outward sign of his inner irritation at Harry’s outburst.

He told himself firmly that allowances had been made for Harry’s disrespect for the past five years. And he insisted further, that it would do no good right now to chastise his son. Not when Harry was in such a fragile state.

Fragile? Merlin, what was he doing? Severus narrowed his eyes and remarked smoothly, “As you have never been a spy, you are not likely to understand.”

Harry continued to glare at him. “Yeah, well…it was a right daft idea to become a spy for Voldemort in the first place,” he muttered.

His temper gripping him, Severus retorted, “Would you have preferred me to allow Eileen to kill your mother?”

“She died anyway,” Harry shrugged and Severus had to turn away, his rising fury urging him, with a strong push, to shake his son. Severus drew in a deep breath and turned around again. Harry’s face was deathly white and he was watching Severus, his lower lip trembling with either fear or anger, likely both.

Severus relaxed his jaw and forced calm to rule his tone. “I am not going to reject you.” He saw no reason to continue this ridiculous scenario, no matter how the wolf had insisted that Harry would not realize he was testing him. It would be best to simply deal with whatever his son was feeling.

Perhaps not, Severus amended as Harry was staring at him, apparently dumbfounded by Severus’ premature declaration. Severus swore silently as he heard the soft whoosh of the Floo and both he and Harry turned toward the door.

Severus, so caught up in his tense interaction with his son, hadn’t realized how long they’d been in his quarters. But surely it wasn’t time already. Severus left the lab quickly, after placing a Stasis Charm over the waiting ingredients and telling Harry sternly to stay where he was.

Minerva’s face was floating in his Floo.

“You are early,” Severus told her.

Minerva pursed her lips in annoyance. “Albus needs to speak with me.”

Severus nodded and directed, “Five minutes.” Minerva nodded curtly and then she was gone.

Harry, for once, had actually listened; he was still waiting as the Potions Master came back into his lab. “We need to return to the classroom for a short time.”

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked immediately, seeming to have forgotten they had just had words.

“No. Come,” Severus commanded and without another word, he and Harry were heading back into the Floo Network.

As soon as they stepped out of the classroom Floo, Severus pointed to the low table in front of his desk. Harry approached it and then turned back to stare at the Professor.

“I believe you know what to do with those,” Severus said tonelessly and his son gaped at him.

“Frogs?” he asked incredulously.

“Consider it as a punishment for your Privacy Spell in the common room.” Severus spun around and went to sit behind his desk, smirking to himself as Harry sputtered.

-----

How the hell had Snape known about the Privacy Spell? Damn. The man really did know everything. Making a face, Harry took the first frog gingerly in one hand and made a careful slit down the dead amphibian’s middle, deliberately ignoring the squeaky squelch of the flesh as it ripped open.

Harry pried the organs one by one out of the frog, glaring resentfully at his father with each pluck. Well that’s what he got for actually talking to the Professor. When Snape refused to acknowledge Harry’s glower, Harry gave up and just concentrated on the task. As he began gutting the second frog, he thought about Snape’s words in his private lab. What had he meant, he wasn’t going anywhere?

There was a sharp rap on the classroom door; Harry glanced up. Snape waved his wand and the door creaked open. Harry groaned inwardly as Malfoy sauntered in, followed closely by a very annoyed-looking McGonagall, her face even more pinched than it normally was. Well it was no wonder, with that haughty sneer plastered all over the Slytherin’s face.

“Minerva, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape greeted and Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the overly easy tone of his father’s voice.

“Good morning, Professor. Lovely morning,” Malfoy breezed, ignoring Harry completely as he swaggered toward Snape’s desk.

“Forgive the intrusion,” McGonagall apologized. “I won’t be long,” she promised and Snape nodded.

“It is no intrusion, Minerva. Take your time.” Snape was definitely up to something, Harry decided as he turned back to his frogs, having to force himself not to glance up at his father.

“Thank you, Severus.”

Snape inclined his dark head and McGonagall, with a glare at Malfoy, exited as swiftly as she had entered.

“Gutting frogs, Potter? Fitting,” Malfoy smirked.

“Pity I can’t give you something to suit you as well,” Harry returned, his hand itching for his wand.

“I was not aware that conversation was part of your detention, Potter.” Harry clenched his jaw, even though he knew Snape was playing a part right now. He returned unwillingly back to his punishment, trying not to think about how Malfoy was most likely grinning in glee at Snape’s cold reprimand.

“Mr. Malfoy, come with me,” Snape added to the Slytherin and though Harry didn’t watch them go, he heard the soft click of his father’s office door closing. Only then did Harry look up, pursing his lips as he futilely tried to hear something, anything from beyond the door.

What was Snape up to…with Malfoy, no less? Snape had said it was something that would be too dangerous for Harry to know about, but that told Harry very little. They always told him that…and every single time it had turned out that Harry would have fared much better with even just a bit of that ‘dangerous’ knowledge. Harry was very tempted to press his ear up against the door but knew it would be pointless, not to mention incredibly stupid.

The door opened shortly and Harry hastily cut into another frog from the pile. He looked up again at Malfoy’s smooth comment. “You’d think after all your detentions with Snape, you’d have the technique mastered by now, Potter.”

Harry glared up at the self-serving Slytherin. “Unless you’d like to give it a try, Malfoy…sod off.”

Malfoy tilted his head, as if he found Harry’s crude suggestion merely curious and then the Slytherin walked right up to Harry and held out his manicured hand. Harry stared at him. “The knife, Potter,” Malfoy explained, his fingers flexing toward the tool in Harry’s fist.

Harry made a face at Malfoy. “Sure, Malfoy. I’ll just let you do my work and then Snape’ll come out here and give me another detention for my trouble.”

Malfoy frowned at him and then shrugged and drew out his wand, pointing it in Harry’s direction. Without even pausing to think, Harry had his wand out, aiming it straight at Malfoy’s chest.

“Drop it,” Harry ordered and Malfoy actually laughed.

“Oh, Brilliant, Potter. You think I want to hex you even though McGonagall’s coming right back? Even a Gryffindor should recognize the flaw in that plan,” he chortled and Harry gritted his teeth, feeling extremely foolish.

“I’m surprised you’re able to recognize the flaw, Malfoy…I didn’t realize Slytherins could even think,” Harry jibed, keeping his wand steady.

Malfoy sniffed disdainfully at the insult. “As if Gryffindor is full of intelligence. Your little blood traitor friends certainly aren’t, especially Weasley after his little mishap at the Ministry of Magic last term,” he smirked.

“I’d much rather have ‘blood traitor’ friends, then a coward of father who has nothing better to do than kiss the arse of a murdering psychopath,” Harry retorted, his voice turning hard.

Malfoy’s wand hand lifted ever so slightly, so that his wand actually was aimed at Harry this time. “You don’t know anything about my father, Potter” the other boy bit out.

“All I need to know is that your father is a Death Eater,” Harry told Malfoy scornfully.

Malfoy’s nostrils flared. “And just what is your father, Potter? Oh, that’s right. He’s dead, along with your Mudblood mother, who got herself killed saving your worthless life.”

His rage complete, Harry demanded loudly, “Expelliarmus,” and Malfoy’s wand flew from the other boy’s grip. “Take it back, Malfoy,” Harry ordered the Slytherin, as he leveled his wand straight between Malfoy’s perfectly plucked eyebrows.

“Lower your wand, Mr. Potter,” Snape’s silky voice ordered from his office. Harry didn’t even look at him. “Now,” his father hissed and then he had Harry’s wand arm in a firm grip, though there was virtually no pressure applied, while Malfoy’s wand was plucked out of his other hand.

“Let go of me!” Harry insisted fiercely but his father ignored him and then Harry was being spun around in the same direction Snape had just come from.

“Get in my office,” Snape commanded fiercely and used his grip to propel Harry toward the open door. Harry set his jaw and complied, though he stomped more than walked through the doorway, slamming the door loudly behind him.

“This is your idea of following orders?” his father’s voice hissed from the other side of the door.

Apparently Snape’s Silencing Spells only worked one way. Grimacing, Harry pressed himself closer to the door, trying to quiet his breathing so he could hear.

“I’m sick of your orders!” Malfoy claimed and Harry heard the crash of wood against stone out in the classroom, although he couldn’t be certain which of the Slytherins was having a tantrum. Harry figured they were both equally likely to be.

“You know perfectly well that these are you father’s instructions, Draco.” Draco? Harry’s stomach danced.

“Sod my father!” Malfoy yelled, followed by another crash.

“You’re father’s trying to protect you,” Snape tried to tell his Slytherin, apparently ignoring what Harry now knew was Malfoy’s childish tantrum.

“He should have thought of that before he joined You Know You. Instead, I’m supposed to become a murderer!” Malfoy’s voice was hysterical now and Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest. A murderer?

Snape’s voice was quieter as he answered, though there was not a hint of gentleness in the tone as he stated matter of factly, “You are not going to murder him, Draco.”

“But Dumbledore-” Draco started to protest.

“Dumbledore has taken care of everything. He’s been preparing this for a long time.”

“And what about Potter? That prat deserves-”

“Mr. Potter is not your concern. I have him under control,” his father told the Slytherin boy smoothly and Harry began to tremble. Under control? What in the bleeding hell did Snape mean by that?

“But his werewolf is leaving.”

“Who told you that?” Snape asked sharply.

“I have sources as well, you know,” Malfoy answered smugly. Harry heard his father utter a particularly foul curse and Harry knew at once that he had to see Remus. Where ever Remus was going, it was obvious nobody, especially those who associated with the Malfoys, was supposed to know about it. And, no matter what Dumbledore or Snape had to say about it, Harry wasn’t going to let Remus go off to be killed…or worse.

The Floo was there, enticingly in front of him and Harry, with an irrational tug in his chest, moved toward the fireplace. He wasn’t going to wait around here while Snape and his pet Slytherin nonchalantly discussed whether or not Malfoy was going to become a murderer.

Harry had no idea whose murder it was they were trying to avoid, but Harry was certain his own fate would be sealed as soon as his father realized Harry had left the office, but even the threat of a slow, torturous death meant very little to Harry right now. And, if Snape was going to share his secret plans with the likes of Draco Malfoy and leave Harry completely in the dark, well then his father could just go to hell. Ignoring his conscious as it screamed at him this time to stay put, Harry grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it down, calling out quietly, “Remus Lupin’s quarters-Hogwarts!”

1996

With its usual attitude, the Floo spit Harry out onto Remus’ hearth rug; Remus looked up in surprise from the newspaper he was reading. “Harry?” Hiis eyes sharpened as he put his paper down and asked anxiously, “What’s happened?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” Harry demanded right back and Remus’ face relaxed.

“Severus didn’t give me a chance this morning,” Remus explained, clearly expecting Harry’s anger to defuse at these words.

“You could have told me before,” Harry accused and Remus pursed his lips, most likely at Harry’s tone. Harry folded his arms across his chest, too upset about everything to worry much about being disrespectful.

“The Headmaster only told me this morning, Harry,” Remus told him, his voice hardening a bit, but Harry paid no attention.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked intently and Remus shook his head.

“It’s Order business Harry, and you know perfectly well that I can’t tell you where I’m going.”

“Are you kidding me, Remus? If Sirius would have had his way, I’d have been inducted already!” Harry retorted angrily.

“Stop it, Harry,” Remus ordered abruptly, his tone unyielding. “I’m not going to argue with you. Especially about Sirius. And you don’t need to know anything else about where I’m going.”

“You’re as bad as he is,” Harry finally snorted, making it perfectly plain who he was as he glared resentfully at his friend.

Remus sighed and turned away toward the Floo. Harry tensed, but Remus only called for the kitchens and ordered a service of tea and a plate of crumpets.

“Where is Severus?” Remus asked as he poured himself a cup of tea, after the little house elf’s face had disappeared from the flames.

Harry shrugged. “I suppose he’s still in the Potions classroom,” he answered, acting as if he was unconcerned by his father’s whereabouts as he slouched comfortably in the chair facing the Floo.

Remus straightened from the refreshments, the teacup forgotten on the table. “You suppose?” he echoed and then his brown eyes narrowed. “Does Severus know you’re here?”

Harry looked down at his knees. “Erm…”

“Harry,” Remus scolded, exasperated. “What did you do?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. He raised his eyebrows and waited impatiently for Harry to explain.

“I overheard him and Malfoy talking about whatever plot they have with Dumbledore and Malfoy said he knew you were leaving…and he didn’t seem pleased that Malfoy knew about it from some source…I was worried about you. And, he’s telling secrets to Malfoy!”

Remus seemed to glean at least some of the pertinent information from Harry’s muddled explanation as he nodded thoughtfully, but his first question caught Harry completely off guard. “Do you know that you’re not actually calling Severus anything anymore…well, besides ‘he’?”

“Huh?” Harry asked, bewildered by Remus’ question.

Remus sat in the chair opposite Harry, a slight frown on his face. “Harry, I know you’re struggling with everything’s that happened, and you have a right to be, but…Harry, can you honestly tell me that you thought it would be a good idea to leave Severus’ classroom without telling him?”

“I wasn’t in his classroom,” Harry muttered sullenly, averting his eyes from his friend’s concerned face.

“Harry.” Remus blew out a breath, clearly frustrated.

Harry looked back over at his friend. Before Remus could finish his thought, most likely one that would have included a reprimand, Harry hurried to ask, “What does that have to do with my not calling him…well, I don’t know what to call him,” Harry told his friend, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Remus smiled at his younger friend. “Why not?”

Harry stared at him. “Why not?” he repeated incredulously. “Are you serious?” he asked. “I just can’t,” he said tightly when Remus just continued to look at him.

“Harry, I know you’re not completely comfortable yet-”

“No, you don’t understand, Remus,” Harry shook his head, his voice very small. “If I call him anything else, it….it makes it true…I-I can’t go back then.” Harry’s robes were tangled in his fingers; his eyes had closed with his confession.

“Harry,” Remus said gently, moving toward the boy. “It already is true.”

“I know that,” Harry whispered miserably. “But if he changes his mind, Remus…” Harry swallowed, unable to finish the thought. But he didn’t need to. Remus understood, as he always seemed to.

“Severus is not going to change his mind. And you, refusing to let yourself open up to him because you’re afraid of getting hurt, is just hurting both of you.”

Harry finally looked up at his friend, blinking rapidly. He had not even considered that he could have been hurting Snape. Remus nodded at him, as if he understood the conclusion Harry had just come to and was affirming that indeed the Potions Master could be hurt by Harry’s behavior.

Without warning, Dumbledore’s face appeared in the flames behind Remus and as soon as he spotted Harry, his face went slack with relief. “Harry…thank Merlin,” he breathed. “Your father is frantic with worry,” and with that, Dumbledore’s face disappeared. Before Harry could even process the Headmaster’s words, Snape stormed through the Floo, his expression thunderous.

“Have you lost your mind?” Snape raged at Harry as soon as he was clear of the fireplace and stomping toward him. Harry stood and took several steps backward, trying to keep a safe distance between himself and the enraged man.

“Severus, calm down,” Remus implored quietly, already haven risen from his chair as well. Snape rounded on him. Wildly afraid that his father was going to try to strangle Remus again, Harry lunged between the two of them, and Snape had to rear back, his feet backpedaling almost comically to stop himself grabbing the front of Harry’s robes in his fists.

Harry stared at his father. Snape glared at him, his chest heaving and then he was stepping toward him again, leaning in menacingly. “Do you have any idea how imbecilic that was? I don’t care how angry you are…how dare you just leave, without any way for me to know where in the hell you are!” Snape roared at him, the shout so loud that Harry wanted to cover his ears as he cringed.

“You could have been anywhere. Do you have any sense?” his father raged, the volume increasing slightly and Snape’s face tensed even further in righteous anger as he continued to shout at Harry. “How many times do you need to hear me tell you, you are not to go off alone, before it will penetrate your thick skull?” Harry opened his mouth to interject an explanation, but Snape was not nearly finished. “How did you expect me to explain to Draco that you had left? Did you wish me to tell him that you are so convinced that I am only just waiting to be rid of you, that you need to run off to Lupin every time something concerns you?”

Tears sprang to Harry’s eyes, unbidden at his father’s words. He shook his head but with an angry movement, Snape waved his calloused hand toward Remus’ table full of refreshments. “That you came to have tea while I was running about the castle like some idiotic first year, attempting to discover if had been captured by lurking Death Eaters?”

Harry blinked rapidly. He bit his lip, hard, hoping the pain would still the moisture. “I-” Harry’s throat was too clogged to finish the apology and something flashed in his father’s eyes, before the man leaned in closer, his voice all of a sudden low and rough.

“As you apparently did not understand my meaning the first two times I said it, I will say it again. You are my son. Nothing is going to change that…no matter how many times you give me the urge to throttle you.” When Harry could only stare at him, Snape asked, “Do you understand me now?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to grab Snape and never let the man go. But Harry was pretty sure his father wouldn’t exactly appreciate a hug in front of Remus. “I-Yes, sir…erm…sir.” Not exactly sure what that had been, Harry’s cheeks flamed and he looked away from the piercing gaze. When he looked back up, Harry found his father’s eyes deeply shadowed and he almost seemed to be smiling, though his mouth was still held firmly in a frown.

“If you ever do something so foolish again, you will have more to deal with than my shouting. Do I make myself clear?” Harry didn’t have any idea what his father meant by that either, but the threat effectively squelched any desire Harry might have had to find out. He nodded hastily, leaving off any more awkward responses and for once, Snape didn’t seem to mind. “Excellent,” he approved and then turned abruptly, saying “Albus, we need to change our plans.”

Harry started, looking around his father’s black robes to find the Headmaster watching them with keen interest. Remus, on the other hand, was pouring cups of the still-warm tea for all of them, seeming not to be paying any attention to Harry and his father.

Glancing back at Harry, Snape ordered, “Sit,” pointing to one of Remus’ chairs. Harry sat, not daring to argue. With a gentle smile, Remus handed Harry a cup of steaming tea. Harry smiled back, wanting to apologize to Remus for being such a prat. He didn’t even know why he had been acting that way. And maybe, just maybe, his friend had been right…because Snape had just told Harry, where Dumbledore and Remus, a man his father despised, could hear that nothing was going to change his mind about Harry. Harry grinned.

Snape caught his eye and at his father’s raised eyebrow, Harry’s smile widened. Snape shook his head slightly though he didn’t seem annoyed by his smile, more…amused.

“What plans are we changing?” Harry asked eagerly, feeling at ease after Snape’s mild look.

His father turned to the Headmaster, apparently ignoring Harry’s question. “Nott knows about Lupin’s plans, Albus. I can only assume others among the Death Eaters know as well…possibly even the Dark Lord.”

“Not Lucius?” Dumbledore asked, looking very concerned but Snape shook his head.

“Not now, when his son’s life is in danger.” Harry’s father glanced at him as he spoke.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure if his father had meant the quick look to be significant, but Harry felt warmed by it all the same. And before he could lose his nerve, he asked quickly, “What’s wrong with Malfoy?”

“You did not hear enough of my conversation with Mr. Malfoy to deduce his little problem?” Snape asked sardonically and Harry flushed.

“You meant for me to hear?”

But his father shook his head. “I realized after you had left that I had not activated the reverse Silencing Spells. A rather foolish mistake,” Snape admitted.

“Who’s Malfoy supposed to kill?” Harry blurted, ignoring Snape’s rather startling admission that he was not infallible. All three wizards turned their heads so that they were staring directly at Harry.

“Severus, I think it would be best to start at the beginning,” Dumbledore advised, the first to find his voice.

Severus frowned as he looked at Harry and his gaze turned suddenly much sterner as he said quietly, “I want to make it clear that there will be some things that we will not share with you. You will have to accept that.”

Harry sighed, both frustrated and resigned before he argued, “If I’m captured by Death Eaters, it’s not going to matter how much more I know. I’m still the boy-who-lived, either way.”

Snape’s jaw clenched and he said sharply, “Do not speak of such things so casually, Harry.”

Harry nodded quickly, but still pressed, “All right, even without being cap—erm…even so,” Harry amended as his father’s scowl deepened, “I could help you. I can,” he insisted, as his father was shaking his head.

It was the Headmaster though who said, “Harry, you can’t help with everything. If your father is willing, you can help with the Malfoys, but that’s all.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but Harry turned anyway to Remus. “Remus?” he implored.

Remus though, after a quick glance at Snape, shook his head, “No, Harry…your father’s right.”

It took Harry a moment to digest that Remus had just referred to Snape as his father, and when he did, he turned back to Snape, who was watching him again, his eyes narrowed. Harry bit his lip and just nodded. “All right,” he conceded. Without further conversation, the Headmaster began to explain, during which Snape didn’t once take his eyes off Harry.

“Voldemort was, to put it mildly, furious with Lucius for failing to retrieve the prophecy at the Ministry of Magic. After torturing him within an inch of his sanity, he gave Draco orders to kill me.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed. Somehow, even after eavesdropping on his father’s conversation with Malfoy, he hadn’t been expecting that. “Why?” Harry asked, mystified by the mind of the darkest wizard.

“Voldemort fully expects Draco to fail. When he does, as it would be a fate worse than anything he could otherwise to do Lucius, Voldemort will force both Lucius and Narcissa to watch as Draco is slowly tortured to death.”

Bile rose up through Harry’s throat and he made a retching noise as Dumbledore’s words punctured his conscience. A hand was on Harry’s shoulder immediately and Harry relaxed under the touch, though his stomach still rolled with nausea.

“Draco will not die, Harry,” his father said gently and the hand on his shoulder applied pressure so that Harry felt steadied again.

“But, how?” Harry asked, looking up to find his father’s eyes.

Snape held his gaze and then Dumbledore was speaking again. “Lucius asked Severus for help. It seems the threat of Draco’s death was too much for his mother.”

“Narcissa insisted that Lucius talk to me,” Snape interjected and Harry shook his head in confusion.

“But how could Malfoy know you wouldn’t tell Voldemort? You’ve supposedly been loyal to him for seventeen years…” The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck prickled instantly as he watched his father shifting slightly in his chair. “Bloody hell!” he exploded. “Malfoy knows you’re a spy?” he finished, the nausea gripping him again and he had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop the rush of vomit that threatened him.

“Harry,” his father said quietly. Then, in a firmer voice when Harry didn’t move, Snape demanded, “Look at me, Harry,” as he gave the boy a firm shake. Snape pulled Harry’s clenched hand from his mouth.

Harry brought his eyes up slowly, but the panic wouldn’t leave. “But if he knows about you…what if he tells…and what about us?” he asked, his voice rising as more and more troubling scenarios wound themselves around Harry’s thoughts.

“Lucius knows nothing more than that I am spying for Albus and the Order. Even if he were to find out that you are my son, he will not do anything to jeopardize Draco.”

“But-” Harry objected.

Snape grasped Harry’s hands in his own and waited until Harry stilled and was looking at him. “He will not cross me,” Snape promised, his voice dark. Chills ran up and down Harry’s spine at the implication in his father’s words.

“You would let Malfoy-”

“Yes.”

Harry shivered again as he took that in.

“But if Malfoy doesn’t kill you, Professor…how will you be able to stop Voldemort?” Harry finally asked when he could keep his voice steady enough to speak again.

“Voldemort does not expect Draco to accomplish his task soon, Harry. It is part of his pleasure, watching Lucius suffer through these months.”

Though Harry could understand that, he wasn’t about to accept it as any sort of explanation. “But, eventually?” he insisted.

“Voldemort will have to be dealt with before he can dole out his revenge,” Dumbledore said simply and Harry frowned.

“Dealt with?” he confirmed. “You mean, killed, don’t you?” Harry looked at the other men, surrounding him in Remus’ quarters and saw the answer in all of their eyes. Gnashing his teeth together, Harry demanded, “And this is what you thought you should keep from me? You want me to kill Voldemort. When…in the next few months and you didn’t think I should know about it?”

“There’s no reason for you to have to worry about this-” Remus put in, but Harry waved an angry hand.

“I’m not a child, Remus! I don’t need to be coddled,” he told his friend and Remus nodded easily in assent, which made Harry wish he hadn’t used such a sharp tone but then as the next thought came to him, he turned abruptly to his father. “And, if I am going to have to fight Voldemort, it might actually help if I knew how to do it,” he rapped out, his voice losing none of its heat.

The only sign his father might not have appreciated Harry’s tone was the way Snape’s lips thinned before he answered, “It will help, yes. Did you not think there was an actual reason for our Occlumency lessons, or your continuation of the D.A. group?” his father enquired tartly.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry allowed, “but now that I know…you can train me even more, can’t you?” he finished, paying no attention to the surprised look on his father’s face. “I mean, this is Voldemort we’re talking about, here…” he trailed off as Dumbledore and Remus were giving him very strange looks. “What?” he questioned, looking confusedly between them. “Prof…erm, sir?” he hemmed as he settled his gaze on Snape, blushing as he faltered.

His father seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. “It is nothing. I did not realize the idea would excite you quite so much,” Snape explained carefully, and Harry decided his father was trying not to sound too disdainful as he described how he thought Harry was feeling. Harry snorted.

“You didn’t think I’d want to be rid of that bastard as soon as possible?” he marveled. “Does it seem like I’ve been enjoying his attempts to kill me every year?” he laughed, though the topic wasn’t in the least funny and none of the others looked at all amused.

“Of course not, Harry,” Remus assured him, smiling slightly. “We just all thought you’d be more concerned…”

“Well of course, I’m concerned. I’d be a nutter if I wasn’t worried. I don’t want to fight Voldemort you know. But I’m not going to sit here whinging on about it, am I?”

Dumbledore and Remus exchanged looks and Harry scowled. He knew he hadn’t exactly been at his best the last few months, but sweet Merlin….did they have to act as though he was some sort of mental case?

“What’s Remus going to do now?” Harry asked tightly, wanting to steer all of them away from their speculations about his state of mind.

“Now that my boy, you do not need to know,” Dumbledore told him cheerfully and Harry stiffened again.

“But if Malfoy and whoever else knows, you can’t send him anymore, right?” he asked, peering closely at the Headmaster who just smiled infuriatingly back at Harry. “It’ll be too dangerous-”

“The plans will be changed accordingly,” Snape cut in smoothly before Harry’s worry could overtake him again.

Harry ignored that and turned immediately to Remus. “You can’t do it, Remus. Not if Voldemort knows! You’ll be killed.”

“Harry, the plan will change…I promise, all right?” Harry nodded shakily and then Remus grinned. “I don’t think Tonks would be too happy if I got myself killed.”

Feeling much better at the mention of Tonks, even after Remus’ promise, Harry smiled as well. After all, Harry had a good reason to keep himself alive as well. A very pretty reason.

“Remus, we should be going.” Dumbledore stood up, shaking out his robes. The others in the room followed suit, each rising out of his chair. “Severus, when will the Wolfsbane be ready?”

“Harry and I will finish it in the next few hours. I will have it sent to you.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Wonderful, Severus. Harry, my boy, take care of yourself…and your father, if you wouldn’t mind.” The old blue eyes twinkled as they always did and Harry felt a moment’s rush of warmth for the Headmaster. He still wasn’t completely convinced Dumbledore hadn’t had a hand in keeping his father from him but at least now he seemed to want them to be together.

“I’ll try, sir,” Harry promised and grinned at the frown that overtook Snape’s face.

Dumbledore chuckled and turned toward the Floo. Remus stepped close and Harry’s chest constricted. “Harry, I’m afraid I’ll be out of contact for the next few days. Do take care of yourself, all right? I’ll expect to find you in one piece when I return.” The attempt at levity failed miserably.

“You be careful, Remus. Tonks isn’t the only one who needs you,” Harry said softly as he looked at his friend.

Remus nodded and after only a quick hesitation, during which Remus again glanced at Snape, he pulled Harry into a tight hug. With his breath hitching, Harry returned the embrace fiercely. And, then Remus was pulling away and with one final glance, he walked into the Floo with the Headmaster and both of them were gone.

There was silence as the green flames died down. “We need to finish the Wolfsbane,” Snape finally said and Harry was well aware of the reason for the stiff edge to his father’s voice.

“Right,” Harry answered as he walked back to the Floo, with his father following him this time. Harry took some of Remus’ Powder from the wooden box on the mantel and after Snape had joined him in the fireplace, Harry threw the glittery powder down, calling, “Severus Snape’s quarters-Hogwarts!” With a great roar and a whoosh, Harry and his father were deposited on the familiar blue hearth rug.

“You are certainly well-versed in the use of a Floo,” Snape intoned as he and Harry returned to the lab.

Harry glanced up at his father. “Er, yeah. I’m, well…I’m sorry about leaving, erm...”

“I was simply making an observation, not seeking an apology,” his father told him. He pointed to the mortar and pestle as he instructed, “Finish crushing the Dried Salamander Hearts, if you would.”

Harry complied as Snape removed the Stasis Charm he’d applied over the cauldron earlier and began adding pinches of various ingredients from the vials and flasks he had arranged. They worked in silence until Harry asked tentatively, “You told Malfoy that you, uh, had me ‘under control’…?”

Snape raised his eyes to look at Harry. “I did.”

Harry bit his lip, looking down again at the Hearts he was still crushing into a fine powder. “Did you…I mean, well…what did you mean by that…um, sir?”

His father’s lips twitched. “You thought perhaps I had duplicitous plans concerning you?”

“Uh, no, sir,” Harry said uncomfortably, shaking his head in denial.

“It was misdirection, Harry,” Snape assured him, seeming quite amused by Harry’s discomfort.

“Right, erm…yeah,” Harry agreed quickly, wishing he could stop stuttering like a bloody mountain troll.

“The Hearts need to be added now,” Snape changed the subject, eyeing the mortar. “Adequate,” he remarked as Harry brought the Hearts, now reduced to a fine powder, over to his father. “Pour it in slowly, at an even pace,” Snape instructed. He watched closely as Harry followed his directions; he was being as careful as he could while he poured.

Snape nodded approvingly and then as Harry set the stone bowl back on the counter, Harry asked suspiciously, “You’re not hoping I’ll mess up and the Potion will end up poisoning Remus, are you?”

The same twitch of the lips. “Hardly. Think what that would do to my reputation.” And with that, Snape gave the Potion a last stir and turned toward the door, saying over his shoulder, “I believe it is time for lunch.”

Grinning, Harry followed him. “I was thinking about that. It would work wonders for your reputation with Voldemort.”

His father spared him a glance. “Indeed.”

Harry shook his head, enjoying the exchange. But once they reached the sitting room, he stood uncertainly while Snape called for the kitchens, positioning himself so that Harry was effectively blocked from the house-elf’s view. Snape spoke briefly to the house-elf, though Harry couldn’t make out what he was saying and then Snape was turning around again and a platter of food, with place settings for two was popping into existence on the table next to the fireplace.

Snape seemed to be waiting for something. Harry didn’t move though, feeling very strange as he stood next to one of his mother’s chairs, with the prospect of sitting down to a meal with his father looming up on him.

“The young men in Slytherin always seem to have quite an appetite. I assume you have as well.” Snape’s tone was easy, relaxed and that made Harry even more nervous.

“Uh, yeah…I mean, yes…” Harry answered, trying very hard to quit the ridiculous stumbling all over himself. Remus’ words kept coming back to him, encouraging him. And still he couldn’t bring himself to address the man as anything other than ‘sir’, and even that title was beginning to make Harry squirm.

“Would you like to sit?” The question was innocuous enough, but Harry colored anyway.

Not even bothering to answer as his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth, Harry walked gingerly toward the table and sat in the chair farthest from where Snape was standing. His father sat in the other chair wordlessly and lifted the lid from the platter, gesturing that Harry should serve himself. Harry hesitated but then as his father nodded, he helped himself to one of the delicious looking sandwiches on the tray.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You are welcome, Harry,” his father said simply and feeling vastly relieved, Harry began to eat. But even with Harry’s relief, lunch was a much too silent affair.

--

“Is it ready, then?” Harry asked, two wary hours later as he watched Snape adding a vial of tiny Dragon Scales to the Wolfsbane.”

“That is the final ingredient. The Potion needs to be stored while still bubbling, so we will need to work quickly. Hand me that flask.” Harry handed the indicated flask to his father.

Snape set the flask on the table and then took out his wand, tapping the hot cauldron and then the empty glass flask in turn. “Transfero Wolfsbane,” his father ordered and the entire contents of the cauldron rose up, forming a long stream and then the stream was flowing downward into the flask with a gentle gurgle. Snape slid a cork into the flask and nodded, apparently satisfied.

Harry grinned, still amazed as ever at the things magic could do. “Wow,” he said appreciatively.

Snape didn’t comment on Harry’s wonder. “I need to send this up to the Headmaster’s office,” he informed Harry. “Then we should return to the classroom so your friends can retrieve you when they return from Hogsmeade.”

Harry asked, “Is it so late already?”

Snape cast a Tempus Charm. It was nearly four o’clock. Feeling mildly disappointed, Harry watched Snape banishing all the equipment and ingredients bottles from the table before picking up the flask of Wolfsbane Potion and returning to the parlour. After he’d sent the Flask to Dumbledore, Snape turned back to Harry, his lips set firmly together.

“I trust you did understand this time, the idea that you are not to be alone anywhere in or out of the castle?” Snape asked, almost sneering and Harry was taken aback by this abrupt change in his father’s mood.

“Well, no…I mean, not really, sir…?” Harry started and then sort of trailed off as Snape was glaring at him.

“It was not clear that I do not want you to be alone?” his father demanded, looking thunderous.

“Um, no…I mean, yes sir, it was clear, sir…just…well, but not why…sir” Harry finally managed to say, not at all sure his father would be able to understand his garbled response.

Snape scowled. “Your answers are becoming more and more muddled with each passing minute.” Apparently not.

Harry sighed, hoping Snape wouldn’t catch on to just why he was feeling so muddled. The likelihood of that however was maddeningly low. “Why don’t you just tell me why I need to be under constant guard?” he managed to ask, pleased with his coherency this time.

“I would have thought that would have been clear as well.” Snape told him, narrowing his eyes.

Harry ground his teeth. “Yeah, well, not all of us are as clever as your Slytherins, Professor,” he bit out and then flushed and added lamely, “…er, I mean…sir…,” and then niggled his lip while he watched Snape’s mask slip into place.

“‘Professor’ will do, if you prefer the title,” his father informed him tonelessly, his voice smooth as glass.

“Uh…oh, yeah…all right.” Harry tried to agree, his cheeks flaming in regret, embarrassment and myriad other emotions that Harry couldn’t even begin to identify.

Snape nodded and turned away, the pain not nearly shadowed enough for Harry to miss it this time. Harry’s heart clenched against his ribcage as he witnessed the hurt that Remus had been so sure Snape was feeling. Harry drew a breath; it was now or never, then.

“…Dad?” Snape froze and Harry stammered, “…erm, or…Father, if you would prefer that…sir…”

1996

Dad. Severus froze, his breath catching in his chest at the word and then his thoughts were reeling back to James’ innocent jibe, fifteen years ago.

“Severus, for the love of Merlin, do you have to do that in here?”

Severus raised his black eyebrow at James’ annoyed question. “You have an office, you do realize,” Severus returned. James glowered at him. Severus didn’t even pause as he continued plying quill to parchment, the steady scratch, scratch, making the corners of James’ mouth turn down even further.

Severus knew perfectly well what had James in such a foul temper and he smiled to himself as he enjoyed the memory of James’ anger at the mutt this afternoon. And Black’s confusion and the wonderfully hurt look on his face when James had snapped at him for insulting Severus. Severus stifled the urge to let his smirk touch his lips. James was still directing his glare at Severus every few minutes as it was; no need to anger the Gryffindor any further.

“Sev.” His wife’s musical voice had Severus looking up from his parchment and stilling his quill. James heaved a sigh of relief at the interruption. Lily noticed immediately, as she shifted Harry to her other hip and eyed the two men. “James, you’re not still upset about Sirius, are you?” she asked, concern touching her emerald eyes.

James flushed and turned back to his own parchment. “No,” he lied and Severus made a small noise. James’ eyes flashed back up to the Potions Master and Severus allowed himself a small smirk this time. The expression made James roll his eyes before he turned back to his work.

Lily just shook her head at the two men and turned to her husband. “Harry wants you to read him a story before bedtime…don’t you, Harry?” she asked the little boy. Harry smiled and reached for Severus.

“Daddy,” Harry demanded as he reached out for Severus. Severus stood immediately and took the little boy in his arms, reaching out automatically to smooth down the boy’s ceaselessly messy hair.

“Are you ready for bed, Harry?” Severus asked his little son. Harry shook his head at the suggestion, his lips puckering in a frown.

“Daddy will read you a story,” Lily promised the child and Harry smiled toothily up his father, while Severus gave Lily a slight frown, as he always did when she referred to him that way.

But before he could react appropriately, James cut in, “You really better get used to it, Severus. One of these days, it’ll probably just be Dad,” his tone highly amused at Severus’ chagrin.

Dad? It was a foreign word to Severus, who had called his own father nothing but father... or more often, sir. But it wasn’t as though Tobias had ever done anything to warrant emulation. And, judging by the way Lily was grinning between her husband and son, Severus couldn’t help but feeling that perhaps Dad might suit his son quite nicely.

…One of these days, it’ll probably just be Dad. James of course could have had no idea just how this day would have come and Severus, feeling as though he could no longer breathe, turned slowly, carefully erecting his shields so his face would not betray even a hint of his near-panic as he searched for what to say. And even when Severus was finally facing his son, still words eluded him.

Harry was shifting nervously, his feet fairly dancing as he stood there, waiting for Severus to respond. What was he supposed to say? How could he explain to Harry how much he had missed the word, though back then it had been Daddy?

Severus wanted to tell Harry again that he could address him however he chose but he was certain that would make his son even more anxious than he had been all day as he had struggled with what to call him. And it wasn’t lost on Severus that Harry had chosen Dad first and had only added on Father as he saw how the first had affected the him.

And Harry was still staring at him. Damn. Severus had to tread carefully. His son was much more fragile than even he could have dreamed of. Best not to tamper too much with their somewhat tenuous peace. Holding his features as smoothly as he could, Severus said carefully, “The first will suffice.” And then he awaited judgment.

xxxxx

Snape slowly turned around and Harry, feeling incredibly foolish, shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the man to say something. Anything.

But Snape was staring, just staring and Harry was about to just retract the entire idiotic attempt when his father said stiffly, “The first will suffice.”

The first? Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing. Snape couldn’t even bring himself to say the word! Harry couldn’t stop his lips from twitching madly though as his father continued to watch him, the stiffness slowly draining from Snape’s angular face.

“All right,” Harry agreed nonchalantly, keeping the laughter firmly at bay. He pushed his hands into his pockets for good measure, trying to demonstrate how easy the whole exchange had been. His father, it seemed, was not fooled.

After a quiet minute, he said gruffly, “I am gratified that you found courage enough.”

Harry stared at him. “Oh. Well, er…sure,” he offered, not knowing what else to say.

Snape inclined his head. “We should be going before your friends began to wonder if I’ve resorted to testing Muggle tortures on you,” he told him, his voice lilting a bit with what Harry was beginning to recognize as humour.

He smiled. “All right, but I still want to know why I can’t go anywhere alone,” he reminded his father pointedly and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Surely you realize that the Dark Lord is quite desperate to see you again.”

Harry nodded. “He’s been after me for years, though. I’ve been alone before,” he said with a shrug.

His father firmed his lips. “Albus has very different ideas than I do about how best to keep you safe.”

Harry blinked. “So, then…this is you’re idea?”

Snape scowled at Harry’s choice of words. “It is not an idea,” his father scathed. “Every one of the Dark Lord’s followers has orders to find a way to get their hands on you. You are well protected within the castle’s walls but I do not wish to trust even its security. There is more than one Death Eater’s child who would be pleased to hand you over to Voldemort.”

Harry started at his father’s use of Voldemort’s name, and his father gave him a pointed look as if to say, “See, I can be just as enlightened as your little friends,” though Harry was pretty sure the likelihood of Snape actually thinking that was dismally low.

Harry turned his thoughts from the surprise he felt and asked the obvious question, “So the Slytherins have orders too?”

“Do not be naive. Not all Slytherins are the children of Death Eaters.” Harry paused to consider that; it did of course make sense. Just as not all Gryffindors were honorable. Peter Pettigrew certainly hadn’t been.

“But, do the others-”

“I do not know.” Snape’s voice was full of regret and Harry’s insides pinched.

“You can’t know everything,” he tried to reassure his father. Snape’s upper lips curled slightly.

“I am surprised however to hear you acknowledge as much,” he said coolly.

Harry shrugged, not all bothered by Snape’s light barb. “Most of the things I don’t know, I could know, if someone would just tell me,” he returned and he was surprised when his father glanced away.

“Harry,” Snape said quietly when he was looking at Harry again. “I do realize that you do need to be included more than you have been in the past…” at Harry’s eager look, Snape held up a hand, “…but, whether you want to admit or not, you are still a child. Some decisions will have to be made for you,” Snape finished and Harry glared up at him.

“I’m not a child. I’ve done-”

But Snape interrupted him again. “Yes,” he agreed, “you have accomplished more in your life than any young man ought to, but that does not make you an adult. More importantly though, there are some things that you just can’t do.”

Harry, trying to listen carefully to his father’s words, didn’t rise again to anger. “You keep saying that…” he began, “you and Remus and Dumbledore. But, even if I can’t do whatever it is you three are doing, you could still tell me and maybe I could help somehow.” The argument was very reasonable, Harry thought. But, Snape had the gall to raise a scornful brow.

“You forget, Harry that I have watched you for five years, rushing off at any sign of trouble, without thought to anything else,” Snape informed him, looking both annoyed and amused, though how he could, Harry really had no idea.

And Harry wondered if Snape had realized he had just given him a very important clue. Well, even if he hadn’t, he was clued in quickly as Harry smiled in spite of himself. His father leaned in toward him again and he said threateningly, “Which is a pattern, you will not be continuing.”

Harry swallowed, wondering how Snape could switch so swiftly from amused to menacing. “Erm…okay,” Harry hurriedly assured the man.

Snape pulled back and after eying Harry assessingly, said, “I am quite serious, Harry.”

“Yeah…I sort of got that,” Harry told him smartly, though he was smiling.

“Make sure you do not forget it,” his father stressed, still glaring at him and Harry laughed.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not likely to let me.”

“No, I am not,” his father assured him, his eyes shadowing once again, but this time, Harry was convinced the pain he saw in those obsidian eyes was not caused by anything he had done.

------

After they had stepped through Snape’s office Floo, his father grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him back from his attempt to open the door. Harry looked up questioningly and Snape pointed silently to a small round orb on his desk; it was glowing brightly red.

Not bothering to explain, Snape used his wand to tap the orb gently. The red mist dissipated and then the shapes of three people began to form. Ginny, Ron and Hermione were standing around the frogs that Harry had not finished gutting, and Harry grinned at the suspicious looks on their faces as they stared down at the dead animals, as though they were wondering if a transfigured Harry could be among the pile.

“It seems your friends are early,” Snape intoned and Harry glanced up nervously at his father.

“You’re not going to make me finish those frogs, are you?” It would be just like Snape to do just that, after he’d banished his friends from the room, of course.

“Are you going to be erecting any more Privacy Spells in public?” his father returned, rather snidely to Harry’s ears.

Harry opened his mouth to argue that it hadn’t really been in public but since that would likely get him nowhere, he asked instead, “How did you even know about that?”

“I have my ways,” his father said mysteriously and Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes that time.

“Am I going to be able to do anything without you knowing about it?” he complained and Snape peered down at him.

“I would not advise doing anything you would not wish me to know about.”

Harry’s cheeks burned as he thought about all the time he’d spent with Ginny, the two of them all but plastered together by a Sticking Charm. Ignoring Harry’s embarrassment, Snape strode to his office door and jerked it open. Harry followed, wishing he could sink through the floor. The feeling was made worse at Ginny’s wide grin. Hermione smiled as well, though Ron’s expression was more like a scowl.

Ginny’s smile faltered though as soon as she noticed Harry’s deep flush. She narrowed her eyes and turned to Snape.

Before she could even open her mouth, Snape informed her, “You may rest assured that there is no need for your ire.”

Ginny, looking surprised that Snape would address her without bellowing or sneering, turned to Harry for confirmation. He nodded. Unconvinced, the redhead turned back to Snape. “Then why are you making him disembowel frogs?” she demanded. “This wasn’t supposed to be a real detention,” she reminded him tartly.

“Perhaps you should ask Harry,” Snape suggested mildly and then turned away to return to his desk, and the four Gryffindors watched mesmerized, as the Potions Master’s robes billowed around him, and Harry knew a frivolous urge to ask his father just how the hell he did that.

And then Harry’s friends were staring at him instead, most likely in amazement that the cold Potions Master had just called their friend Harry. He shrugged, hoping Ron and Hermione would quit staring at him. He’d had enough of just being looked at today.

Hermione finally whispered to Harry, “Well, Harry?”

As she was obviously referring to the frog gutting, Harry shrugged. “Privacy Spell,” he explained and then wished he hadn’t. Ron turned to glare at Snape.

“Unless you wish to finish the task, Mr. Weasley, I suggest you find another expression.” Ron’s face immediately snapped out of its glower and he turned back to Harry.

“Still a git, I see,” he noted quietly.

Harry cringed, knowing that his father would have been able to hear Ron’s slur. But, when no further comment came from Snape, Harry just shrugged, not wanting to insult his father…at least not in front of him.

“Ronald,” Hermione hissed and then darted a quick glance towards Snape’s desk. Snape was back to marking essays and didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Harry or his friends.

Harry couldn’t figure out how or even if he should say goodbye to his father, so he settled for simply telling his friends, “We better get going,” to which Ron and Hermione nodded eagerly.

Ginny, however was watching Harry and then she turned abruptly back to Snape. “Goodbye, Professor,” she said confidently and Harry wished he could kiss her as Snape looked up.

“Ms. Weasley,” he acknowledged.

Gathering his courage again, though it was much easier now that Ginny had already started. “See you later,” Harry rushed out and his father nodded.

“I will see you Tuesday evening,” he told him and then added, “You will need to go to the Headmaster’s office. Professor McGonagall will escort you.”

Right. Remus would be gone. Harry had almost forgotten about that and now all his worries came rushing back. His father’s voice startled him out of his concerns though, as Snape said in a hard tone, “I expect you to keep our earlier conversation private.”

Harry’s stomach flipped at his father’s words. There was no way he could promise not to tell his friends about everything, especially about Draco. Ron and Hermione had been with him every step for five years, and now Ginny...well, he certainly wasn’t about to keep this from her. And really, Snape had no right to ask him to. And Harry was certain it was only his general dislike of everything Gryffindor that would even make this an issue.

But as Harry didn’t think it would be the best idea to offer up any of these excuses in front of his friends, he just nodded, even though he knew he would fare no better once Snape found out about the blatant lie. Well he would just have to make sure his father didn’t find out, Harry told himself. It was as simple as that.

With that thought firmly ensconced in his brain, he turned at Snape’s nod of dismissal and left with his friends. “We need to go somewhere private,” Harry told them as soon as they were well clear of his father’s classroom.

------

Hermione had been predictably reluctant for Harry to go against his father’s wishes and even Ginny vacillated, but after Ron’s rather startling argument that neither of them would have hesitated to defy their parents if they thought it necessary, both girls had given in. Hermione even put up the Silencing Spell this time, after Harry had explained that Snape had somehow known about the one he’d done, and he had hoped fervently that his father wouldn’t be able to detect Hermione’s as well.

Flitwick filled in for Remus on Monday, in both the classroom and in the D.A. group. Harry and the other members were astonished at just how powerful the tiny little Professor was. Flitwick, absurdly pleased at their praise, had demonstrated a magnificent Crushing Jinx amidst the oohs and ahhs of the students. Even Harry, who had at first been resentful of Flitwick for taking Remus’ place, had been impressed.

Tuesday found Harry back in Potions class, with a much subdued Malfoy. Harry, feeling distinctly uncomfortable after Saturday’s revelations, couldn’t even bring himself to find anything to be annoyed at the Slytherin for. Harry even found himself going out of his way to make sure he didn’t annoy Malfoy, quickly adding ingredients as soon as Malfoy looked at him and dicing the slimy grubs before Malfoy could. It seemed a wasted effort however, as the silent Slytherin boy didn’t even seem to notice; he was too busy staring at things unseen.

By the end of class, Malfoy looked thoroughly depressed and Harry felt a rush of pity for the other boy as he watched him leaving the classroom with his two usual companions. Harry knew exactly how that felt, at least…the constant presence of his friends. Come to think of it, Harry knew the threat of torture and death by Voldemort’s hand as well.

Harry, completely lost to his thoughts hadn’t noticed the nearly empty classroom until Ron hissed impatiently from the door, “Harry!” Harry looked up. Ron made a ‘come on’ motion with his head and Harry scrambled to stuff his belongings into his sack; without meaning to, he caught Snape’s eye.

His father was studying him, as though the man was trying to determine something and with a lurch, Harry remembered his mild deception on Saturday. Regretting it, though much too late, Harry turned quickly from his father’s now almost calculating expression and hurried to join Ron and Hermione by the door, wishing fervently that he didn’t have to see his father again this evening.

“How could he possibly know?” Hermione wondered as Harry and his friends worked on their homework in the library after dinner.

Harry shrugged. “Who knows, but he seems to know everything I’m doing,” he muttered over the essay Flitwick had assigned for D.A.D.A.

“Some sort of Surveillance Charm?” Ron guessed but Hermione shook her head.

“I’ve never heard of one,” she told them, as if that settled the matter.

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” Harry told his friend grouchily, overly nervous about the possibility of a confrontation with Snape later. Hermione lifted a lofty brow and turned back to one of her ever-present books. Harry tried to ignore Ron’s reproachful glare, but finally sighed and offered, “Sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione glanced up again, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Well, you did have a point,” she conceded and then followed with, “Do you want me to see if I can find anything about a Surveillance Charm?” her eyes lighting now with renewed fervor. Harry chuckled as he nodded.

Ron, looking much happier with Harry’s apology asked, “How many frogs do you think he’ll make you gut this time?”

Harry shook his head resignedly. “He’ll probably make it mice this time.”

Hermione made a face and Ron grinned. “Better you than me, mate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry grumbled, thinking it was going to become very tiresome having a Professor for a father.

“Maybe he doesn’t even know,” Ginny put in, obviously hoping to soothe Harry’s worry but he shook his head.

“Well if he doesn’t, he’s got something else on his mind and that’s probably even worse.”

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall’s impatient voice interrupted, and the four Gryffindors looked up at their head of house. Harry almost groaned. But, he stood up anyway, knowing there was not going to be a way avoid seeing his father. Harry gathered his things together. McGonagall turned away, expecting Harry to follow. And, after a kiss to Ginny, he did.

“Good luck, mate!” Ron called after him, chortling unnecessarily until Harry heard a muffled, “Oomph,” as his friend was likely elbowed in the ribs by Hermione. Harry grinned.

When Harry and McGonagall reached the imposing Gargoyle, she stopped abruptly and demanded, “Is he mistreating you?”

Taken aback, Harry stammered, “What…what do you mean?”

The Professor waved her fingers pointedly toward the Headmaster’s office, indicating that Snape was waiting for them. “I will not stand by and let him-”

“No, Professor,” Harry interrupted quickly. “It’s alright. He hasn’t done anything.”

McGonagall however, looked unconvinced. She didn’t say anything more though as she gave the password to the Gargoyle and then ushered Harry onto the stairs.

When they reached the door, McGonagall pushed it open and stepped into the Headmaster’s office. Snape was waiting for them. McGonagall marched up to Snape, a look of determination on her face. “I hope you are treating Harry well,” she snapped at the Potions Master, who raised an eyebrow at her rather imperious tone.

Then he glanced at Harry. “Has he suggested otherwise?” he asked the Deputy Headmistress icily.

“I didn’t!” Harry exclaimed from over by the heavy door, wanting to end that theory immediately.

McGonagall paid no attention to Harry. “You know as well as I do, Severus Snape, that your behavior toward Harry has been abominable over the past five years. I cannot believe that even certain revelations could change that so easily.”

His father’s face had gone ghostly pale and Harry felt sick.

“Professor, please don’t…” Harry pleaded, his voice strained, but his Head of House cut him off, still glaring at Snape.

“You will do well to remember that I am still Harry’s Head of House and I will not tolerate any more of your mistreatment of the boy.” McGonagall’s voice was very cold. “Especially as Albus is not here to undermine my efforts in that regard.” It was silent in the room, as her threat hung ominously over the trio.

His eyes were chips of black ice as Snape replied in a dangerously low voice, “And, while you have been his Head of House, Harry has been in almost constant danger. You failed as soundly in your responsibilities as I have in mine. And, you, Minerva, will keep in mind that as Harry’s father, my authority supersedes yours.”

“Your authority?” McGonagall sputtered, and Harry sucked in a breath as he watched the two Professors staring each other down.

“Yes, my authority, Minerva. And I will not tolerate any more of your scurrilous accusations that I am mistreating my son in any way.”

McGonagall’s face betrayed her surprise and then she narrowed her eyes very slightly as she assessed Harry’s father. “As long as you give me no reason to make such accusations,” she agreed finally, her voice like steel.

After a beat, Snape inclined his head. “There will be no reason for concern,” he assured her stiffly.

Apparently not completely satisfied, McGonagall turned to Harry. “You know where to find me, should you need me.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Erm…yes, ma’am,” he murmured, avoiding eye contact with both of the adults.

McGonagall left swiftly though Harry didn’t know if she’d looked again at Snape as he was staring firmly at Fawkes’ empty perch. He heard the door close behind her and only then did Harry chance a glance up at his father.

Snape was staring at him, his face without expression. Harry wanted to say something to erase McGonagall’s cruel words. But even as harsh as they had been, it didn’t change their truthfulness. But the years of hurt had already been acknowledged and Snape had even apologized, albeit in the privacy of their minds. Harry was far from over all that had passed between them but neither was he going to purposely cause his father pain by re-hashing it.

“I didn’t say anything,” was all Harry could come up with, and even he could hear how lame that sounded.

“Her point is valid, nonetheless,” Snape replied quietly, holding Harry’s gaze.

Harry shrugged, keeping his tone studiously light. “So was yours,” he reasoned. “McGonagall wouldn’t exactly win the Head of House award,” he quipped with a forced smile.

“She has had little support.” Harry felt a rush of confusion. Why was his father defending McGonagall? “You should not dismiss her so easily,” Snape continued at Harry’s quizzical look, even though Snape shouldn’t have been able to know what Harry had been thinking.

He stared at his father. The man certainly was an enigma. Was he actually telling him to continue to rely on another adult? Well, it was just McGonagall. Harry doubted he’d get the same advice regarding Remus. As Snape was still gazing at him, Harry nodded, letting his father know he’d heard and understood.

“Harry,” his father began softly, his eyes intent, but Harry shook his head hurriedly, not wanting to continue this conversation as he was beginning to feel as though the walls were pressing in on him.

“I have a lot of homework,” he told his father. “We should probably get started,” he suggested, beginning toward the Floo.

“We will practice here tonight,” Snape stopped him, his voice sounding somewhat normal again. Harry turned back to his father.

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“The Headmaster will be coming later. I need to speak with him briefly.” Harry perked up at this bit of news.

“Is Remus coming too?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No.”

Trying to hide his disappointment, Harry only nodded. And then, he prepared himself for his father’s testing.

“Ready,” he told his father.

Snape nodded and they began. The flames seemed thinner, sparser than Harry remembered from their last lesson, but as it had been a week since they’d last practiced, Harry couldn’t be sure. He turned his attention to strengthening his own shields as the flames began to lick closer to his storm.

Instinctively, Harry guided his storm to push against the fire inside his mind and as he did, he felt their unusual weakness. They felt almost without substance and Harry shoved. The flames flickered briefly and Harry saw Malfoy, sitting with Snape in the Potions Classroom.

“Potter hates me,” the blonde boy was saying angrily.

And Snape was telling him, “Then you’d best find a way to remedy that.”

With a great roar of his flames, Snape forced the scene back down into his own mind and with a might heave, Harry was back in Dumbledore’s office, breathing heavily as he stared at his father.

“You’ve been trying to force Malfoy to be nice to me?” Harry asked incredulously.

“I would hardly use the term ‘force’,” his father said vaguely as he steadied his own breathing.

“Well, I would,” Harry clarified after he’d taking a few slow breaths. “We’ve hated each other for years,” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” Snape said, gazing at Harry with a strange expression. “Much as James and I did.”

Well at least now Harry understood the expression. He cocked a challenging brow at his father though and asked sarcastically, “What, you want me father Pansy’s baby and then conceal it from everybody except Malfoy?” and then he waited for the rebuke, but Snape surprised him yet again.

He narrowed his eyes. “I would not suggest a bond between you and Ms. Parkinson, no. I do not believe your Ms. Weasley would approve in any case, as it seems you are far more likely to father a litter of Weasleys than Parkinsons,” he said smoothly.

Harry’s face burned scarlet. Before he could stammer out a response, Snape said coolly, “Which is another topic we will need to discuss, rather soon I should think.”

Merlin...

If Snape was trying to tell him he wanted to talk about sex with him…well, Harry would just head straight to Voldemort and his entire army of murderous Death Eaters right now. Too embarrassed to even attempt a response, Harry just stared at his father, his mind going over every possible interaction Snape might have seen between him and Ginny, if the man did indeed have some sort of Surveillance Charm. Bloody Hell.

“Raise your shields,” his father commanded, swiftly changing the subject, but as Harry was quickly becoming used to his father’s abrupt mannerisms, he obeyed. He forced especially, all thoughts of Ginny deep below his shields, testing the storm vigorously after his thoughts were safely Occluded

Snape’s efforts were relentless; his flames raged mercilessly against Harry’s dark storm. But Harry’s shield had grown stronger with each session and as he was practicing daily this time around, his father’s shields were beginning to be tested as well, even after Snape had gotten over the earlier distraction that had caused his weakened state; his father’s shield was stronger than ever. Harry was no longer just a student of Occlumency. His Dementor Storm was quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with.

As Snape broke off contact with Harry’s mind after a particularly long struggle, and Harry watched his father working to get his breathing back under control, he couldn’t help but feel a feel a bit smug. Soon enough, even Voldemort, would not be able to get through his shields.

Snape noticed Harry’s look and informed him condescendingly, “Your overconfidence will only undermine your efforts.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not overconfident,” he objected.

“Were you not just thinking how easily you will best the Dark Lord?”

“Not exactly,” Harry hedged.

Without warning, Snape raised his wand. “Defend yourself!” he hissed and Harry scrambled to erect his shields, only just managing before his father’s flames could overtake his storm.

Damn you, Harry raged silently and he could have sworn he could sense the vibration of laughter from the flames, taunting him with gentle flicks against his gathered cloud. Show me what you can do then, Harry, the flames called to him.

Shoring up his hasty shields, Harry fought. He fought for control of his memories, battling as though it really was Voldemort this time, as if it really counted. And it did, in a way; Harry was determined to show his father he was strong enough.

Storm and Flame raged, clashing mightily, each passing minute bringing weakness and then strength again to one side or the other. But there was no acrimony in this war, no real anger, not anymore. This was pure skill, two minds pitted against one another in common combat, each one hoping that Harry would be victor.

But that wouldn’t be the case this time. Harry, growing weaker as they dueled, finally succumbed, his cloud ripping soundlessly, though not enough to bring up Harry’s deeply buried memories. Harry slammed back to the present.

“Damn you,” Harry gasped as he stumbled back, out loud this time, though there was no heat in the words and his father’s eyes glinted in quick amusement.

“As it was you who was consumed in flames, I believe you are the one who is damned.”

Harry smirked at his father, who raised an appreciative eyebrow.

“Well done,” he congratulated him sincerely and Harry’s insides glowed.

“Thanks,” he said happily, pleased at the unexpected compliment. “Should we try it again?” he asked eagerly, but Snape shook his head.

“That will be enough for tonight. You should not overtax yourself.”

“You just don’t want to go out on a loss,” Harry accused with a grin.

His raised his eyebrow again. “I suspect one day soon, I will….however until that time, it may be in your best interest to bury your more deceitful exploits further beneath your shields.” And with that simple suggestion, the warm glow disappeared.

Harry fumbled for a reply, knowing exactly what Snape was referring to. Finding no suitable response, he could only shrug.

“Clever however, asking Ms. Granger for a Silencing Spell,” Snape mocked as he peered at Harry through hooded eyes.

“If you’re gonna yell at me about everything you find while you’re Legilimizing me, we might as well just stop now,” Harry suggested, refusing to rise to his father’s jibe.

“You would prefer the Dark Lord to find your mind?” his father asked, as though he really was interested in the answer.

“No, but I don’t want you browsing around in there either,” Harry pointed out, to which his father favored him with a cool look.

“Perhaps you should simply stop doing things I would not approve of,” he advised prudently.

“Well, that’s about as likely as you taking points from Slytherin,” Harry retorted.

“Then you will need to ensure I do not break through again,” Snape said simply, his non-response an acquiescence of the impossibility of Harry’s points scenario. Harry rolled his eyes. Everything was so black and white with Snape. “But as I do know about your egregious lack of judgment,” his father continue, “I see know reason why you should not face the consequences.”

Harry looked up warily at his father, having expected this.

“A detention I think,” he father decided and Harry was almost sure the man was smirking, as he continued, “…with Filch. I’m sure he can find some toilets that need cleaning.”

“I’m not cleaning toilets,” Harry protested, finally allowing his ire to show. “Not for that!”

“Not for lying? Or not for your disobedience?” Snape inquired, with his old sneer back in place.

Disobedience. The word sounded very strange coming from Snape’s lips, Harry decided as he glared. “I didn’t exactly lie and you didn’t really tell me not to tell them…only that you expected me not to.” He figured it couldn’t hurt to rationalize a bit.

“My intent was clear,” his father growled, his eyes widening slightly at Harry’s audacity.

“No it wasn’t,” Harry tried to deny, which only made his father’s face darken. And then Dumbledore’s Floo roared to life. Harry turned toward the fireplace, relieved at the Headmaster’s timely interruption.

And then Harry stopped breathing. It seemed his father had been wrong. Because there was Remus, lying bloodied and absolutely unmoving, in Dumbledore’s arms.

1996

"Get Poppy!" Dumbledore gasped, finding Snape's gaze.

Harry had no idea what happened after that, as all he could see was Remus.

"Remus," he whispered as he staggered toward his friend. Dumbledore was still kneeling in the fireplace, the upper half of Remus' body lying in the old wizard's lap, his face a ghostly white. Harry crouched down next to his friend, reaching out immediately for the werewolf's hand. Dumbledore didn't try to stop him. And Remus' hand was so cold.

Harry began desperately searching for a pulse along Remus' wrist, and then, purposeful hands were moving Harry aside, pulling him unwillingly away from Remus. "Let me go!" he cried as he struggled against the firm grip.

"Harry."

The deep voice was close against Harry's ear as he was pulled backward into his father's chest. Snape's arms closed around him. The voice sounded unnatural, and panic screamed in Harry's mind. His struggle began anew; he began to thrash against Snape, wildly trying to get back to Remus.

"No! Remus!" Harry fought his father, and the tears were flowing freely as he blearily watched Madam Pomfrey waving her wand over Remus.

"He's alive, Harry. It is all right." Snape's words were soothing, gentling Harry's furious panic, and slowly as the arms tightened again briefly around his chest, Harry began to calm. His breaths slowed with each one of Snape's. Harry didn't relax, though. Even if Remus was alive, it didn't look as if he would remain that way for long.

"The Hospital Wing is secure. We need to get him up there now," Pomfrey was saying urgently to Dumbledore, and the old wizard, looking rough and haggard, was nodding. "Don't move him," Pomfrey commanded as she stepped carefully into the Floo. With her sharp demand for the infirmary, the trio was swept away. Harry tried to lunge for the fireplace, needing to go after Remus, but Snape's arms stopped him.

"Let go!" Harry screamed, trying to twist around to see his father's face. But the arms did not loosen their grip.

Snape's low voice spoke again next to Harry's ear. "We will follow, but you must calm yourself first. Poppy will need to tend to Lupin without interference," he assured him quietly. His father's voice was eminently logical, and Harry didn't give a damn.

He wanted to shout at Snape to let him be, to get off! But the strong arms firmed their grip one more time, and Harry forced himself to stop moving. As the arms relaxed slightly, Harry wrenched himself away.

He headed straight for the Floo, but a wall of black stopped him. "Get out of my way," Harry growled, trying to shove Snape bodily from his path, but two large hands latched onto Harry's upper arms and shook him. Harry glared up at Snape.

"Occlude your mind," Snape snapped, his own glare penetrating Harry's. "Occlusion is not merely an exercise in our training sessions."

"Who the hell cares about my training right now?" Harry shouted back, enraged at his father's stupidity.

"You need to care about your training, precisely at a time like this. Otherwise, it will be of little use," Snape pointed out.

"Just get out of my way."

"Occlude your mind," his father repeated, not moving a centimeter.

Harry turned his head from his father's infuriating gaze. Clenching his jaw furiously, Harry gathered his shield in his mind, wanting to get out of Dumbledore's office. But as he firmed his shield, burying his distressing thoughts about his friend, Harry began to feel a sense of calm washing over him, and as he did, he turned back to Snape, the movement much slower than the first time.

Harry nodded calmly now, feeling much steadier. "Let's go."

Snape moved aside, his face blank, allowing Harry to enter the fireplace first. He stepped in after him. Harry didn't speak as he waited for his father to throw down the powder, and then Harry was stepping out into the infirmary.

Remus was lying in one of the stark hospital beds. Dumbledore was standing next to Remus' head while Pomfrey was gathering supplies from a closet. Harry paid them little attention as he went immediately to his friend's side. It was much easier to see him, now that his mind was closed. He lessened the stranglehold he had on his shields and allowed himself to feel the dull stab of grief.

Harry sensed, more than saw, Snape going over to Pomfrey, hearing only snatches of their brief and hushed conversation, not even trying to separate the two voices from one another. The words simply blended. "...completely drained... barely any pulse... poison... into the lake... I don't know... Albus." The last word made Harry glance over at Poppy, who had used the Headmaster's name almost as an epithet, but before he could wonder over it, Snape was gliding over to Remus' bed.

"Headmaster, I will require your assistance... and I do believe we have a few matters to discuss."

Dumbledore started at the sound of Snape's voice, seeming completely lost in staring down at Remus. When he looked up, his eyes were watery. "Yes, yes... of course, Severus," he said, his voice so haggard, Harry barely recognized it.

Harry took his friend's hand in his own as Dumbledore moved away. Harry didn't even bother to look up when he felt his father next to him. "I will be back when Lupin's potions are ready. Do not leave by yourself," Snape instructed. Harry gave his father a baleful stare, not even bothering to respond. Where the hell did Snape think he was going to go?

Snape said nothing about Harry's lack of response or even the belligerent glare. And he hesitated only a moment before turning to follow Dumbledore into the Floo. Harry didn't watch them go.

"Remus!"

Harry looked up at the anguished shout. Tonks, her hair a mousy brown color, was rushing over to them. Her breathing was ragged as she stopped abruptly by Remus' bedside. Pulling in a sharp breath, Tonks brought her face close to Remus and pressed her cheek to his, cradling the other side of his face with her fingers.

Harry swallowed hard and looked away.

Shacklebolt came in right behind Tonks. He, too, walked with hurried steps, pausing briefly when he noticed Harry beside the bed, and then he continued on toward Pomfrey, who by now was mixing various potions near her office door. The same sort of conversation flowed between Shacklebolt and Pomfrey as the one Pomfrey had just had with Snape.

Shacklebolt, his own face lined with worry, moved over to Remus' bed after the brief exchange. Shacklebolt turned his eyes quickly to Remus and then back to Harry. "Perhaps I should escort you back to Gryffindor Tower. There will be other members of the Order here soon. It may be best if you were not here," the tall wizard told Harry solemnly.

But Harry shook his head vigorously. "I want to stay with Remus."

Shacklebolt seemed to consider that before saying, "You can stay until Dumbledore returns. Then, it will be up to him, I'm afraid." Harry nodded mutely, knowing that Dumbledore would most likely make him leave.

Tonks' face was still buried close to Remus'; her small body was shaking silently. Harry gritted his teeth and slowly built his shields back up again, afraid that he would lose himself as well.

"Mr. Potter, you'll need to move."

Madam Pomfrey was pressing against Harry's arm lightly, urging him gently to move over so that she could tend to Remus. Harry moved closer to the wall near his friend's head, trying not to pay attention to the tear-stained cheeks of Tonks as the witch lifted her head to stare at Pomfrey.

"Poppy... will he—?" she tried to ask, but Pomfrey was already shaking her head.

"I don't know," she answered. Harry silently gripped the side of the bed, wishing he had a chair, as he was beginning to feel very wobbly.

They all watched as Pomfrey waved her wand, stopping at various intervals to chant incantations over different parts of Remus' body. Then she spelled at least four potions into him, just as Snape must have done to Harry after he'd been hurt playing Quidditch. That night seemed so long ago, almost as if it hadn't even belonged to Harry in the first place.

Pomfrey was giving the final potion to Remus as the Floo fired up. Dumbledore stepped out and came immediately to Remus again. "How is he?" he wanted to know.

"No change," Pomfrey's abnormally cold voice informed the headmaster. Dumbledore didn't even seem to notice as he put a wizened hand on Remus' arm. The room was still. And then, without warning, from the Floo and through the hospital doors, the Hospital Wing began to fill with Order members. They crowded themselves around the bed, but nobody spoke.

Harry pressed himself up against the stone wall, trying to make himself invisible, and maybe that way, Dumbledore wouldn't make him leave. But even in his subdued state, the headmaster had apparently not lost his powers of observation. Harry didn't know how long they'd been just standing there, but finally, Dumbledore said quietly, "Harry."

Harry tensed along the wall. All eyes were lifted up to stare right at him. "Professor McGonagall will take you back to the tower," Dumbledore told him. Harry flushed.

"I'd like to stay with Remus," he argued, but the headmaster shook his head.

Tonks opened her mouth, perhaps to lend her support, but Dumbledore spoke before she had a chance. "You can come back later, Harry. But for now, you'll need to go," he said. When Harry didn't make a move to comply, the headmaster ordered firmly, "Now, Harry."

"Come, Mr. Potter," McGonagall urged quietly from the other side of the bed. Harry, not knowing what else to do, let his shoulders droop. Feeling miserable, he spared one last glance for his friend and followed McGonagall out the door.

As they always seemed to do, McGonagall and Harry walked in silence back up to the tower. When they reached the Fat Lady, McGonagall turned so that she was facing him. "Will you be all right, Mr. Potter?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Harry shrugged. McGonagall patted him awkwardly on his arm and then waited while Harry muttered the password to the befuddled Fat Lady and slipped inside the portrait hole.

Completely oblivious to his surroundings, Harry dragged himself up to his dorm. His feet moved as though by invisible strings, pulling one after another carefully up the steps. As soon as Harry reached his room, which was blissfully empty, he lay down on top of his blankets and just stared blankly at the canopy.

------

"Harry."

The voice sounded familiar, Harry decided as he listened to other voices muttering things he couldn't understand. And then there was a warm presence next to his chest, a gentle pressure on his face. "Harry, what happened?"

Ginny. It was Ginny's hand on his cheek.

But he couldn't tell her. He didn't want to explain that Remus was lying in the Hospital Wing, perhaps never to wake up again. He couldn't tell Ginny that. Because then it would be true. And it couldn't be true. Not Remus. Anyone but Remus.

"Is it Snape?" Ginny's voice asked again.

Snape? Well, maybe not Snape, either, Harry reasoned with himself. Snape couldn't die... who would yell at him, then? Snape enjoyed yelling at him too much to just die. And Remus... well, Remus never yelled at Harry. Remus didn't need to stick around just for that. But his friend would want to come back for Tonks, wouldn't he? Yes, Harry told himself logically, Remus wouldn't die... not when Tonks was waiting for him.

"Harry."

The voice was beginning to sound a bit more urgent, and Harry smiled. Ginny would be there for him, too. After he was finished with Voldemort. Harry wouldn't die, either. The idea was comforting, and he whispered softly, "Don't worry, Gin. I'm not going to die, either."

"Harry?" And then he was being shaken. "Harry! What are you talking about?"

"Harry!" A much rougher set of hands was shaking him now, and he scowled, readjusting his focus and twisting his head slightly. Ron's freckled face was only inches from his own. Disconcerted, Harry bolted up, and his forehead smacked into Ron's.

"Oi! What the hell, Ron?" Harry hissed as he reached up to rub his head.

"Merlin's balls, Harry," Ron breathed, sounding mightily relieved as he rubbed his own head, "what's going on?"

"Harry, what's happened?" Ginny was sitting next to him, looking very worried, and Harry swallowed.

"It's Remus. He's hurt... Pomfrey doesn't know if..." Harry's throat clogged with tears, and he ended up just shaking his head, unable to explain and unwilling to cry.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered, catching on immediately. Without even pausing, she pulled Harry into her arms, and Harry let her, though he didn't move to put his own arms around her.

"I'm fine, Gin," Harry mumbled into the fiery hair, but Ginny didn't let go. After a short time, though, feeling vaguely claustrophobic, he pulled away, and Ginny reluctantly let him go. "I'm all right," he told her. Ginny squinted her eyes in response, obviously not believing him.

"What happed to Lupin?" Hermione, standing next to Ron, asked quietly.

"I don't know. All the Order members were in the infirmary. Dumbledore made me leave," he explained. Ron scowled.

"Where's Snape?"

"He went to work on potions for Remus," Harry answered. He shook himself lightly, not liking the way his voice sounded so pitiful. And Ron and Hermione didn't need to exchange glances like that. Of course his father had to make potions for Remus. He was the bloody Potions master!

"And he just dropped you off here, just like that?" Ron demanded; Hermione elbowed him forcefully in the ribs, to which Ron looked very confused.

"It was McGonagall," Harry corrected. "He'd already left," he explained with a shrug. And somehow, that statement made the two Weasleys scowl harder.

"Harry, Professor Snape is the Potions master. He has to do his job," Hermione tried to soothe him.

"I know that, Hermione," Harry exclaimed, exasperated. Of course he knew that! He didn't expect Snape to sit around the infirmary, waiting for Remus to stir, no matter how worried Harry was about his friend. And Harry wasn't a child; he didn't need to be comforted. He didn't, he told himself fiercely.

"I'm fine," he insisted once more, willing himself to believe it and having no idea why he should feel so lost, surrounded by his three closest friends.

------

Severus was well aware that his son would find a way back to the infirmary. No matter how foolish it would be to go wandering around the castle. No matter how idiotic it would be to enter the infirmary alone, Severus was certain that Harry would; his son's affection for the werewolf was much too strong. And that was how Severus found himself in the Gryffindor common room, hidden underneath a Disillusionment Charm—again.

He had a moment's urge to go up the stairs to Harry's room and put a Sleeping Spell on his son... at least that way he could keep the boy safe. He doubted very much, however, that Harry would appreciate such an action, especially as the infernal Granger girl would likely be able to tell Harry that such a spell had been performed the instant he woke up.

Severus was very good at waiting, having had years of experience in waiting for the Dark Lord, or waiting for Albus and other Order members. Yes, Severus could wait. But this night, as he stood in the Gryffindor common room like some sort of criminal, lurking about for a chance to strike, Severus grew quickly agitated. He began to pace, treading back and forth in front of the fireplace, working himself up enough that he was about to storm up to Harry's room, to demand that the boy just stay put.

And then the sound of soft footsteps, padding on the stairs, halted Severus' movements. His son, looking the very image of the criminal that Severus was feeling himself to be, was all but creeping down the staircase, James' shimmering silver cloak clutched in his hand. Having already erected a shield against eyes and ears that might pry into the common room, Severus waited until Harry crossed the barrier past the last step.

Harry jumped as soon as he saw Severus, his hand flying to his mouth. "Merlin," he breathed. Then his eyes flashed in anger. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Severus raised a thin brow. "Waiting for you," he explained. "I had assumed that you would not be able to wait for morning to go back to the Hospital Wing." Harry tensed, and Severus hastened to add, "I will take you there."

But Harry didn't relax. If anything, he stiffened even more. "You don't have to come with me," Harry told him, his voice like ice.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he attempted to figure out why Harry would be angry with him. Severus modulated his tone before carefully saying, "I thought I had made it clear that you are not to wander the castle alone... especially at night."

"I have my cloak," Harry told him, a hint of defiance in his young voice. Obviously, Severus had not been clear at all. But that would have to wait.

Ignoring the issue of obedience, Severus commented dryly, "James' cloak is not infallible."

Again the inexplicable tension coursed through his son's body. Then the cloak was pulled protectively against Harry's chest. "You can't have it," Harry informed him, the slight wobble in his voice indicating perfectly well to Severus just how worried Harry was that he would simply wrench the cloak from his grasp.

Severus, considerably bothered by his son's fear, looked away briefly. "I will wait for you if you would like to put it back in your room." He shifted his eyes back to Harry, who was glancing between the cloak and Severus as if measuring how much time he had to secret the silver fabric away before Severus could change his mind.

"All right," Harry finally agreed. Severus watched as Harry went quickly back up the stairs. When his son returned, his hands were shoved deeply into his front pockets; Severus could make out the outlines of his fingers, balled up into fists against the denim. Forcing himself to rid his mind of the deep feeling of grief that was welling itself in his mind, Severus turned toward the Floo.

Harry followed.

Albus was waiting for them, still sitting next to Lupin's bed. The headmaster looked up as they stepped through the Floo. "Ah... Harry." At Harry's quick glance around the room, Albus offered, "I had to send Tonks home."

For some reason, that made Harry glare at the headmaster. "Shouldn't that be her decision, whether or not to leave?" he demanded.

"Perhaps," was the headmaster's customary enigmatic response. Harry looked away from the old man sharply and went to stand near Lupin's other side.

Severus caught Albus' eye and shook his head slightly at the questioning glance. With an almost inaudible sigh, the headmaster stood. "I'll see you tomorrow, Severus. Harry."

"Good night, Albus."

Harry didn't answer, and looking abnormally distraught, Albus left.

Severus moved to Harry's side, waving his wand briefly over Lupin's prone form to look for any signs of improvement. Finding none, he said to Harry, "The headmaster was trying to help."

"He's always 'trying to help'," Harry agreed sarcastically, and Severus studied his son, wondering how much angrier he was going to become over the next few days if Lupin did not improve.

"Would you like a Warming Charm?" he asked suddenly, noticing belatedly that Harry didn't have nearly enough layers on to account for the chill of the castle's night air.

Harry shook his head. As he did, his hair swished away from his forehead and Severus' eyes narrowed at the reddened welt that was beside Harry's scar. Severus reached out a hand automatically toward the injury. He paused, though, as he remembered the last two times he'd tried to touch Harry and the way Harry had pulled away. This time, he didn't stir, and Severus wondered if Harry was even aware that he was standing so near.

Severus' hand deliberately continued its journey to Harry's forehead, and his fingers gently lifted his son's fringe away from the welt, to examine the mark more closely. "What happened?" he asked quietly. Harry blinked.

"What?" And then Harry's hand strayed upward so that it grazed against Severus'. "Oh, that. Just bumped into Ron," Harry explained with a shrug, dropping his hand. Harry turned his attention back to Lupin. "Does Pomfrey know anything more?" he asked after a long silence had stretched between them.

"We've given him the first doses of all the necessary potions, and Madam Pomfrey has started several treatments."

Harry looked up to shoot a glare at the Potions master. "You know that means nothing to me, right?" he asked insolently.

Severus held his son's gaze, unwilling to let Harry see the effect the boy's tone had on him. "Lupin has not begun responding to the treatments, yet," he clarified. Harry glared at him for a second longer and then was staring down at Lupin again.

"Will he?" Harry inquired stonily.

"I do not know," Severus answered, keeping his voice carefully even. He watched as Harry's knuckles turned white and his fingers clenched the bed clothes convulsively. And he continued to watch as his son's lips began to tremble slightly and his breathing seemed to become uneven. Severus scowled.

Lupin, aside from Severus, had been Lily's closest friend throughout all her years at Hogwarts, and Severus had always hated the wolf, even more than he did now. And yet he knew with absolute certainty that he would have comforted Lily had she been the one at Lupin's sickbed.

Why then, couldn't he offer the same to his son? Damn Albus for getting Lupin into this! And curse the werewolf for meaning so much to Harry in the first place.

Severus had no idea how to help his son, standing so desolately beside him. But he could no longer watch Harry in pain and just do nothing, so the Potions master clenched his jaw and did the unthinkable. Slowly, with dread creeping up inside him, he forced his hand onto Harry's shoulder, applying only the smallest amount of pressure.

And that was all it took.

Harry reeled around, flinging himself at Severus so violently that Severus had to take a step back before he was grounded enough to realize that Harry had wrapped his arms around him, the grip so tight, he could barely breathe. Completely unsure of himself, Severus slowly brought his arms up around his son, and after only a second's hesitation, he was pulling Harry close into his chest.

He could feel his son's slight body silently shaking with his tears, and Severus felt a surge of anger at the headmaster for not keeping Lupin safe. The thought was utterly ludicrous; who was he to care about the wolf... but how dare Albus force Harry to go through this? As the protective urges fully gripped Severus, he reached his hand up to gently stroke his son's unruly dark hair. The gesture seemed to break something in Harry. He gulped in a huge gasp of air against Severus' shoulder.

"Shhh, Harry, it is all right," he soothed, surprised at the tone of his own voice, a tone that had lain dormant for almost fifteen years. Harry didn't respond, though he did seem to find some way to press his face even further into Severus' shoulder. The childish gesture pulled something resembling a smile to Severus' lips, while his heart plummeted with the realization of all he had missed with his child.

------

It was a long time before Harry could force himself to move out of his father's arms, and it didn't escape his notice that Snape seemed perfectly willing to let him remain there for as long as he wished. The arms around him hadn't faltered once as Harry had cried, and then even when the tears had subsided, still his father had let him stay.

The entire scenario was unreal. Harry Potter in the arms of Severus Snape, the loathsome Potions master. But Snape hardly seemed to fit that description any longer... to Harry, he felt almost like an entirely different person.

When Harry eventually did step back, his father released him, and Harry looked up, trying to read the expression in Snape's eyes. Harry immediately wanted to apologize for crying about Remus to Snape, of all people. Harry wasn't even really clear about why or how he had decided that his father would be any sort of choice for a source of comfort. He had simply been there.

"Poppy will do everything she can," his father assured as Harry continued to look at him. Harry nodded, knowing such a promise didn't really mean very much.

"What if it's not enough?" Harry knew he sounded forlorn, and the guilt pricked at him again. Snape couldn't want to hear how much it would hurt him to lose Remus. Harry looked away, not wanting to see the spark of hurt or jealousy, or whatever it was that his father must be feeling.

"It does not help to wonder about 'what ifs'." Harry looked up sharply, startled by the pain in his father's voice. "Poppy and I will do everything we can." Snape's voice was firm, and somehow, Harry believed him... no matter that it was Remus who his father would be trying to save.

"Thank you," he told his father quietly, and though Snape looked startled, he didn't comment.

"You are not warm enough," Snape suddenly told Harry gruffly. And with that, Snape pulled a piece of parchment from his robes, and using his wand, he Transfigured it into a thick jumper, adding a quick Warming Spell before handing it over to Harry. "Put it on," he ordered.

"Thanks," Harry murmured as he pulled the jumper over his head, instantly grateful for its warmth. "Where's Pomfrey?" he thought to ask, thinking the mediwitch should be with her patient.

"She is asleep in her office. An alarm will wake her if Lupin's condition changes."

Harry nodded absently. Clearing his throat nervously, he asked quickly, "What happened to him?" He cringed at the silence that followed. It was a short silence, however.

"He was assisting the headmaster."

Harry goggled at him. "Assisting?" he repeated. Harry narrowed his green eyes. "Then why wasn't Dumbledore hurt? At all?" he demanded.

Snape looked extremely uncomfortable, and Harry knew instantly that this had something to do with the way Pomfrey had seemed furious with the headmaster earlier. Dumbledore was responsible for this. Harry had been an idiot to think that he could trust the old man. Before he could say as much to Snape, a shrill buzzing pierced the air.

"Sit," Snape ordered abruptly, pushing Harry lightly toward a chair. Harry obeyed, keeping his eyes on Remus.

Pomfrey rushed out of her office, clad haphazardly in her dressing gown. She hurried to her patient, not sparing a glance for Harry, though she did snap tersely to Snape, "Potions, Severus!"

Snape used his wand to guide an assortment of vials and flasks from the supply closet to Remus' bed. Harry watched, his hands clenched in his lap, as his father and Pomfrey did whatever they needed to do to help his friend. After the dark contents of the final vial were spelled into Remus' veins, Harry thought he detected a slight movement. Scrambling up from his chair, Harry pulled himself close to his friend, leaning in slightly.

Remus' eyelids fluttered open.

Harry held his breath, afraid that if he even moved, Remus would simply disappear. Remus' brown eyes were filmy, and only slowly did they begin to focus. The first thing his eyes found was Harry's face, peering anxiously down at him.

"Harry," Remus croaked, looking all of a sudden relieved. "Did we manage?" he asked, his voice barely more than a scratch. Remus' fingers fluttered by his side. Harry reached for them, squeezing gently.

"Remus?" Harry questioned, having no idea what Remus had been hoping to 'manage'. His friend didn't answer him, but Harry felt the slight pressure of his fingers on his own. And then, Remus drifted off again, his eyes closing as though weighted down with sand. "What happened?" Harry asked quickly, his eyes darting to Pomfrey.

She ignored him, waving her wand over her patient again. She looked quickly up to Snape. "I need more of your Elixir," she told him. Snape nodded.

"I will retrieve some," he assured her. After a pointed glare which Harry immediately understood, Snape used the Floo to return to his rooms.

"Will he be all right now?" Harry asked the mediwitch.

Pomfrey seemed to see Harry for the first time, though she only glanced briefly at him before continuing her wand waving over Remus. "His response is encouraging. He needs your father's Elixir before I'll know anything more," she told him.

Harry stared at her. "How did you know about us?" he asked, stunned at the revelation.

Pomfrey glanced up again, raising an eyebrow slightly. "It was a bit odd to watch Severus restraining you so gently in the headmaster's office."

Gently?

"The headmaster explained everything," Pomfrey elaborated. "They should have told me immediately, of course," she murmured almost to herself before turning her attention back to Remus.

Harry didn't have any more time to wonder about this development as his father was re-entering the room. He held a vial out to Pomfrey, who spelled its contents into her patient. Nothing happened, and Harry felt a wave of disappointment wash through him.

"It will be a few hours before we know anything else," Pomfrey added at Harry's crestfallen look. Then to Snape, she said, "Severus, I'll need fresh batches of all the potions as soon as you have them ready."

Snape nodded. "I will see to it," he promised. Pomfrey nodded briskly, and with a final glance between Harry and his father, she returned to her office.

"You need to return to the tower," Snape said quietly. He turned, beckoning Harry to follow.

"Can I come with you?" Harry asked quickly. His father stopped walking. "To help with the potions Madam Pomfrey was talking about, I mean," Harry rushed to add.

"They do not require much attention," his father informed him stiffly.

"Oh," Harry said as he nodded, trying not to allow his disappointment to show. He didn't know what had possessed him to ask anyway. Going back to the tower right now, though...

"You may come with me, however...if you wish."

Harry grinned. "Really?" he asked, his eyes brightening, and then he quickly toned down his overeager excitement. "Sure," he agreed with a shrug. Snape nodded, his eyes shadowed. Harry followed his father to the Floo.

Harry felt a peculiar sense of relief course through him as he stepped from the Floo into his father's sitting room a moment later. It was, however, with much awkwardness that father and son stood in Snape's quarters, facing one another.

"What is the Elixir for?" Harry asked finally, when the silence became too heavy.

His father hesitated again before answering, "Madam Pomfrey hopes it will restore most of Lupin's strength back to him."

"Will it?" Harry quavered, stepping closer to his father in his excitement.

"If anything will work at all, it will be that particular Elixir," his father said carefully. "Madam Pomfrey will call me when she knows anything. I will need to bring the other potions then," his father explained. Harry smiled. His father abruptly changed the subject. "I trust your friends know you meant to leave the tower tonight?" he asked.

Harry nodded, and then his gut clenched at his father's look of annoyance. "It's not their fault, though," he quickly told him, imagining the sorts of detentions Snape would dole out to his friends for their 'lack of judgment'. "I promised Ron I'd wake him up to come with me," he added.

Fully expecting his father to reprimand him for his idiocy, Harry bit his lip while he waited. But all Snape said was, "I will give you some Floo Powder so that you may contact me should the need arise again."

Harry was too dumbfounded to respond, and then the Floo roared up and Madam Pomfrey's face was floating in Snape's Floo. "Severus," she said with a rush of excitement. "Your Elixir has already begun working. How did you manage it?" she demanded, her eyes shining.

Harry turned expectantly to his father, not really understanding what had happened, but Pomfrey's mood was catching. Snape shifted slightly. "I enhanced certain properties," he told the mediwitch.

"Wonderful, Severus," she said happily and then turned immediately to Harry. "He's going to be recovering for at least another week, but he'll make it," she told him happily.

Without thinking, Harry let out a whoop of joy and grabbed his father's arm, forgetting himself in his delight. But as soon as he realized that he had latched onto Snape's arm like some sort of child, Harry stepped back quickly.

"Sorry, sir," he apologized and then flushed at that as well. "Can I see him?" Harry asked, turning back to Pomfrey, rushing over his gaffe.

He sighed, though, when the mediwitch shook her head. "He's asleep again. You can see him in the morning. Not before," she insisted when Harry looked about to argue.

"We will see you in the morning," Snape intervened, and with a firm nod, Pomfrey disappeared.

Harry turned back to his father. "He's going to be okay?" he asked, needing reassurance, even though Pomfrey had just said as much.

Snape nodded, though, actually seeming to understand. "The Elixir was designed to restore his strength. He will be able to heal properly now," he confirmed.

Harry grinned, allowing himself to feel relieved now that his father had agreed with Pomfrey's diagnosis. Harry, feeling suddenly very tired, sat wearily on his mother's sofa. Snape was watching him very closely, and Harry remembered his earlier behavior as he father stared. "Erm... sorry about before... calling you sir and, well, grabbing your arm, I mean," he said quickly, having no idea why he would even think it necessary. "Well, I know you don't mind the sir part, really... it's only—"

"Harry," his father interrupted him, and Harry quieted, grateful for the interruption, "do not be so hard on yourself." He paused and then told Harry quietly, "I did mean it when I said that you may call me what you wish."

Harry looked up in surprise, and then he frowned, not able to stop the look of hurt that probably crossed his face. "I thought... well, I thought you wanted me to—"

Snape stilled him with his raised hand. "Do not misunderstand me, Harry. But this is not about what I prefer. I do not wish you to feel unduly pressured."

Harry stared at his father, trying to figure out what the man was trying to say to him, having not even realized that he was still feeling some level of discomfort about the whole issue. And Harry was positive that Snape had been hurt when Harry had called him Professor. Was he really willing to put his feelings above his own? Feeling extremely guilty, Harry said quickly, "I don't."

Snape raised a sardonic brow. "You do not need to lie to protect any feelings you believe I might have."

Harry pursed his lips. "I'm pretty sure you do have feelings," he said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. Why couldn't his father just admit for once that he might care about something?

But typically, Snape waved a dismissive hand. "My feelings, such as they, are of no consequence."

Harry groaned. "You sound like a head case, you know that? 'Such as they are'?" he mocked.

Snape raised his eyebrows at Harry, not looking at all offended by Harry's insult. "You are meandering far from the point," he informed him.

"I think you prefer it that way," Harry retorted, but then sighed. "Fine, though. Back to the point. I could just call you Snape," he suggested with a small smile, hoping to bring a bit of humor into this overly complicated discussion, wanting to call his father that about as much as Snape wanted him to.

"Is that how you think of me?" Snape asked suddenly, peering closely at Harry, and Harry blanched, wishing he hadn't made the weak attempt at humor.

"Erm... well, I guess," he answered, trying to figure out if that was really true.

Snape nodded. "Perhaps it might help, then, were you to start thinking of me as Severus."

Severus? Harry quickly shook his head in dread. "Uh, no, sir. I don't think so."

Snape tilted his head, obviously curious about Harry's panicky reaction. "Why does the idea bother you?" he wondered.

Harry swallowed rapidly, having no idea why he felt all of a sudden so nervous. He didn't know why the idea of calling Snape by his given name should bother him so much. It just sounded wrong. "I just can't call you that," Harry told him, having no other explanation.

Snape shook his head, his eyes lighting in understanding. What could he have possibly understood? "I did not mean you had to call me Severus... only that it may help to refer to me that way in your own thoughts. To your friends, as well," he added.

Harry cocked his head, considering that. He wasn't exactly sure how that would help, but he was also aware that he hadn't actually referred to his father as Snape to any of his friends in... well, not for a long time, anyway. So Harry nodded at Snape's suggestion... Severus' suggestion.

The name sounded very strange, even in the privacy and relative silence of his own thoughts. But he had to admit, it did make him feel a bit less muddled, though he also wanted to tell his father that he had enjoyed the feeling of calling someone Dad... of calling Severus Dad. Harry didn't even know why it should be so difficult; he'd already said it once. Why was the second time so much harder?

Harry leaned back into the comfortable sofa, letting his mind wander as his father continued to watch him. Harry smiled as he thought of Remus. He would see his friend soon, maybe talk to him. His smile grew as he thought of his father, who had spent the night preparing potions for Remus. He closed his eyes, thinking about Snape coming to get him in his dorm, so that he could check on his friend.

... And Severus had held him and let him blubber about Remus... his father had held him... He felt warmer as he thought about it, so warmed that he imagined a blanket was being draped over him... He smiled as a familiar scent of cloves drifted over him...

1977

"Lily!"

Lily Evans turned, trying to shift her armload of books so they didn't topple over into the stone corridor. She smiled as Remus rushed over to her, grabbing up most of the books.

"Here. I've got them," he assured her with an easy smile, arranging the books easily in his own arms.

Lily pushed back the lock of red hair that had fallen into her eyes. "Thanks, Remus," she said with a sigh.

"Are you coming from the library, or on your way there?" Remus asked with a grin as he fell in step beside her.

"I just spent the last four hours in that damn library," Lily informed him with a shake of her beautiful head. "I'll be glad when I never have to see that room again!"

Remus laughed. "What will you do, though, without immediate access to thousands of books at a time?" he asked in mock-horror.

Lily made a face at him. "After the N.E.W.T.s next month, I swear to you, Remus, I don't ever want to see another book."

"Right, Lily. You'll be Flooing Flitwick at least once a week for a new Charms Text," her friend teased, and Lily laughed with him.

"Well, maybe," she agreed with a sheepish smile, "but only after a suitable amount of time has passed. I am going to spend the entire summer doing absolutely nothing."

Remus grinned, shaking his head, not believing Lily for a minute. "Are you going home?" he asked her and then frowned as Lily stopped walking and shook her head, so that her bright hair brushed against her cheeks; her eyes lit up with excitement.

Remus stopped as well, turning to face his friend. "You aren't going home?" he asked, bewildered. "Where are you going?"

"That is none of your business," a silky voice interrupted.

Lily's heart skipped a beat. She looked up quickly to find those obsidian eyes she loved so much staring down at her. She couldn't help the smile that found her lips, nor the blush that crept up her cheeks.

Severus, his eyes glinting quickly in response, turned abruptly to Remus. "I believe I can take those for Lily," he told him, reaching for his wand. He used it to shrink the entire pile of books, and then he placed them neatly in his pocket, giving Remus a look of utmost disparagement as he sneered, "Seven years at Hogwarts, Lupin, and you do not know a simple Shrinking Spell?"

"Of course he knows one, Sev," Lily told him lightly. "I didn't think of it, either, and he was just trying to help."

Severus' eyes narrowed immediately. "Indeed."

Remus smiled and shrugged. "You're right, though. I should have thought of that," he acknowledged, making Severus narrow his eyes further with suspicion. Lily tucked back a smile.

"Thanks, Remus," she said quickly. Before he could turn away, she asked, "Are you coming to the study group tonight?"

Her friend nodded. "Eight o'clock, right?"

"In the common room," she affirmed with a nod.

"Well, until then, I guess, Lily. Nice to see you, Severus," Remus added with a slight smile at him.

"Bye, Remus," Lily said cheerfully, and then with a wave, Remus was hurrying down the corridor, having spotted Peter just coming around the corner.

Severus turned back to Lily, his lips turned down in a frown. Lily smirked at him. "There's no reason to be jealous, Sev," she told him frankly. Severus stiffened.

"I am not jealous," he informed her.

"Hmm," she said quietly to Severus, pulling him quickly around the corner and backing up into an empty alcove. Severus allowed himself to be pulled. "Why the frown, then?" she asked, bringing her fingers up to trace along his neck. Severus caught her hand in his.

"You should not be alone with a werewolf," he told her in a hard tone. Lily rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Sev, it's nowhere near the full moon," she chided. "Remus is simply my friend," she insisted, trying to make Severus see that Remus was no threat to them. She knew, of course, that Severus felt himself unworthy of her love, and she felt the familiar tug of grief that anyone would have made Severus feel that way. The sadness was followed quickly by a flash of resentment toward Severus' parents... horrible people, both of them.

"You have questionable taste in friends," Severus told Lily sourly, bringing her back to the present.

Lily scowled playfully at him. "You were my friend for years, you know."

Severus' lips twitched. "I am not any longer?" he asked, his voice lilting slightly.

Lily raised an appraising eyebrow at him and enjoyed the way his lips quirked in appreciation. "I wouldn't exactly call what we have friendship," she told him, pulling herself slightly away from him.

"What would you call it, then?" Severus asked her, his eyes brightening as they swept over her form. Lily's stomach fluttered.

She pulled his hand from where it still rested against Severus' neck, bringing his hand with it. She tugged it down to rest on one of her hips, and without another word, Severus' other hand found Lily's hip as well, and he pulled her a little closer. Lily wound her arms around Severus' neck, drawing her fingers lightly through his dark hair, and she smiled slightly to herself, enjoying the feel of his soft locks, a relatively new phenomenon.

"Does this say 'friend' to you?" she asked him, her voice soft as she pulled his head down to run the tip of her tongue lightly along his bottom lip.

Severus' lips quivered, and then he was pulling Lily roughly to him, pressing her firmly against his body and twisting his calloused fingers in her soft hair. Lily responded, her own hands tangled in Severus' hair and in his robes. They stayed in that alcove for much too long. Lily's study group and Remus were completely forgotten.

------

1996

Severus leaned over his son, tucking the blanket lightly around Harry's shoulders. He reached a hand to slip Harry's glasses from his nose. Harry sighed, and Severus felt a kind of gentle heat fill his chest. He looked so young, so innocent, as though the past fifteen years had never happened. Grateful that Harry was asleep, Severus sat next to him on the sofa, feeling an inexplicable urge to be near the boy. As he gazed at his sleeping child, Severus allowed his shields to fall, though not completely. Never completely.

How far they had come, Severus marveled. Of course, there was much to rediscover, too many of his own sins to get past for everything to be right between them. But for the first time since he had seen the Pensieve memories, Severus let himself truly believe that he and Harry would somehow find a way to just be father and son. Merlin, if Severus could use every skill he possessed to create such an Elixir for the wolf, even the obstacles that stood between he and his son could be overcome.

Being gentle enough that he knew the movement wouldn't wake him, Severus smoothed a hand over Harry's peaceful brow, a gesture that was becoming more natural each time he did it. As if by reflex, Harry's head turned toward Severus' worn hand, and a small smile touched the boy's lips. Feeling uncharacteristically pleased, Severus carded his fingers through his son's messy hair, remembering the many times he had done this when Harry had been a baby.

Letting his hand fall back to his side, Severus rested his own head back against the soft cushions and closed his eyes, sifting through the memories with ease, allowing the long-forgotten images free range in his mind. And without realizing he was even doing it, Severus smiled.

------

Harry felt incredibly tired as he stretched himself gently back to consciousness. He opened his eyes, noting blearily that he wasn't wearing his glasses. And then, belatedly, that he had no idea where he was. A fuzzy black shape entered his field of vision. His father, he realized as the details of earlier this morning filled themselves into Harry's mind.

"It is still early," his father's voice told him, and Harry looked up, knowing he was squinting. His glasses were pressed lightly into his palm. Harry shoved them up onto his nose.

"Thanks," he mumbled, rather grouchily as he hadn't really been ready to wake up.

"Perhaps you should go back to sleep," his father suggested, sounded amused at Harry's mood. Harry glanced up; Snape's face was coming into focus now... Severus' face, Harry reminded himself, and then remembering as well that Pomfrey had said they could see Remus, Harry pushed the blanket aside and rolled off the sofa.

When Harry had scrambled up to standing, he found his face very close to Severus'. Not paying the closeness any mind, Harry blurted quickly, "Can we go see Remus?"

"It is not even six o'clock, Harry," his father told him, placing his hands lightly on Harry's arms and moving him slightly so that he could step past and on into his lab. Harry followed, hurrying to keep up with Severus' long strides.

"But Pomfrey said we could come up," Harry argued to the back of Snape's head. "It's morning," Harry reasoned excitedly, realizing that he sounded very childish but not really caring.

Severus eyed him as he began checking the various bubbling cauldrons around the room.

"Lupin is likely still asleep."

"Please?" Harry implored impulsively, unwilling to give up. His relief after learning that Remus would be okay had ebbed a bit, and he swallowed to cover up his renewed nervousness. He just needed to see that Remus was really okay. "Just for a minute. Just to make sure..." Harry didn't want to finish that sentence as he waited for his father to answer. "Please?" he asked again as his father stared at him.

The same look his father had worn in the Pensieve, the one which Harry had only been able to call indulgence, passed Severus' eyes again, and Harry grinned, knowing he'd won.

"Help me bottle these potions, and then we will go," he agreed, and Harry completely forgot his fatigue as he moved to assist his father.

Each vial of potion was bottled and capped quickly, and after Severus had tucked them into his robe, they walked back out to the sitting room, and Severus turned abruptly. "I will need to go first. Stay here," he ordered with a hard look. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not just waiting to defy you every time you tell me to do something, you realize," he felt constrained to point out. His father looked startled, and then, with a brief nod, putting his Snape mask firmly back into place, Severus Flooed up to the infirmary. Harry shook his head as he smiled.

Severus had found the infirmary empty of anyone save Pomfrey and Remus, and after collecting Harry, they were in the infirmary a few minutes later as well. Remus was indeed asleep, and Harry crept slowly over to his friend's bed, trying not to disturb him.

The effort was wasted, however, as Pomfrey came out of her office, paying no mind to her uninvited guests. She went straight to Remus' bed; she shook Remus gently awake after waving her wand over him.

"Remus," Pomfrey called quietly as she lightly shook his arm. Remus' eyes fluttered as they had last night, and his eyes opened. As soon as he spotted Harry, his eyes lit up and he struggled to sit up. Pomfrey gently guided him, using several pillows to prop him up.

Remus smiled weakly as Harry moved stiffly closer to his friend, feeling all of a sudden very nervous. "Harry," Remus warbled, flinching a bit at the sound of his own voice.

"Remus," Harry whispered, and then his throat clogged and he let out a sort of quiet strangled sob. Harry felt his father stepping closer, and it helped.

"I'm okay, Harry," Remus told his young friend gently as he reached up a hand to take Harry's. Harry wiped at his tears, feeling foolish.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, even though he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Harry," Remus assured him, shaking his head. "It must have been very frightening to see me last night."

Harry bit his lip, remembering the image of Remus in Dumbledore's Floo, looking as though he would never take another breath. Harry drew in a shaky breath, not even wanting to deny how scared he'd been. "You're really all right?" he asked as he stared at his friend, trying to make sure. He was still so pale.

But Remus nodded. "Madam Pomfrey says I'll only be in here for a week," he said with a small smile.

"What happened?" Harry asked, and he looked up as he felt his father shifting beside him. Harry frowned. "You're still not going to tell me?" he asked, allowing his frustration with both of them to show.

"You cannot--" Severus began, but Harry waved his hand impatiently, cutting him off.

"I know, I know, I can't help," he said with a sigh before turning back to Remus. "Whatever you were doing to help almost got you killed. Maybe you shouldn't be part of Dumbledore's plans, either," Harry said tersely. Both men raised their eyebrows, and Harry almost laughed at their twin expressions. But, really, it wasn't very funny. Nothing about any of this was funny.

"Look," Harry told them quickly, before they could head him off again, "I promise I won't try to help, if you'll just tell me what's going on."

His father frowned. "I have already told you, Harry, if you are not going to help, there is no reason for you to know."

Harry scowled at his father. "You just don't trust me," he accused. His father pursed his lips, apparently unwilling to agree, though it was perfectly obvious to Harry that he didn't trust him at all.

"Hey!" There was a muffled shout from beyond the infirmary door, and Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. Severus waved his wand, and then with a quick command, he was both stepping away from Harry and opening the door.

"Remus!"

The familiar shout filled the infirmary as the door swung open, only this morning, it was filled with joy instead of sorrow. Tonks rushed toward them again, stumbling over her feet a few times in her rush to get to the bed. When she finally made it--amazingly in one piece--she gathered Remus in her arms, only to release him abruptly at his muffled, "Oomph! Tonks, not so rough!"

"Hmm..." she mused around her grin, "you usually don't mind," she teased, though her eyes were shining with unshed tears and her face quickly fell into a frown. "You're all right?" she asked quickly.

Remus reached up gingerly for Tonks' hand, and when she took it, he assured her, "I'm fine."

"Oh, Remus," she breathed, and then, unable to control herself any longer, she started crying loudly as she leaned her head down onto Remus' chest.

"Shhh, Dora, it's all right. I'm all right," he tried to tell her as he gently stroked her short hair with one of his hands.

"Dora?" Harry mouthed at Remus, and his friend gave him an amused glare before turning back to Tonks. After a few minutes of snuffling, Tonks brought her head back up. Then her eyes narrowed as they landed on Harry.

"How did you get in here, already? Dumbledore kicked me out last night! And Poppy wouldn't even let me in before now, either!" she claimed, and then, spotting Severus coming out of Pomfrey's office, she waved. "Hi, Professor!" she said in a much more cheerful voice, and Harry blinked, remembering that his father had once been Tonks' professor as well; the Auror had in fact only been out of school for a few years. With that thought stuck in his head, Harry eyed Remus appraisingly. Remus smirked at him. Harry grinned.

Tonks peered between the two of them for a moment, having noticed the interplay. "How did you get in here, Harry?" she asked suspiciously after a minute, sounding much more like the Auror she was.

"Well..." Harry began uncomfortably, not able to think of a lie fast enough.

"I found Mr. Potter wandering around the castle unsupervised," Snape's harsh voice sneered as he glided over to the bed again, and Harry's veins turned to ice at his father's tone. "It seemed more efficient to simply bring him here, rather than wasting my time later trying to explain to his Head of House why he was serving a detention at six o'clock in the morning," Snape explained coldly, and Harry swallowed nervously, though he knew he had no reason to feel wary.

"Thank you, Severus," Remus interjected. Snape made a small growling sound as he spun around toward Pomfrey's office, and Harry felt like he had used Hermione's Time-Turner. He shuddered lightly.

"Hmmm... still doesn't like you much, I see," Tonks whispered, and Harry swallowed, feeling ill over the exchange.

"Er... yeah." Harry nodded.

"Mr. Potter, would you come get Professor Lupin's tray?" Pomfrey asked, sticking her head out her office door. Harry, befuddled, shrugged and came toward Pomfrey's office. She waved him inside.

Snape was waiting next to Pomfrey's desk. He gestured for Harry to shut the door. Harry complied, and Pomfrey busied herself in a far corner.

"You wish to stay longer?"

Harry nodded silently to his father's query, not really meaning to avoid the man's eyes but doing it just the same.

"Harry," Snape said quietly, making Harry look up, "that was for Ms. Tonks."

"I know," Harry answered, his voice much too quiet as he looked down at his shoes again. When his father didn't say anything, Harry frowned. "I just wish--"

A warm hand squeezed his shoulder, and Harry looked up again. "It will not always be so," his father assured him softly. And then the gentle pressure left his shoulder and Severus said, his voice normal again, "Ms. Tonks is on duty in an hour. I will tell her to escort you to the Great Hall for breakfast."

"All right," Harry agreed. Then, not really knowing why, Harry asked tentatively, "Can I--can I see you this weekend?"

That same glint of pleasure winked in his father's impossibly black eyes.

"I will arrange something," he promised after a moment and a quick nod. And then, Severus turned and plucked Remus' breakfast tray from Pomfrey's desk. He handed it to Harry. "Your cover," he explained with amusement, and smiling finally, Harry took the tray. Pomfrey followed Harry back out of the office and over to Remus' bed.

Tonks looked up when they entered. Remus smiled that gentle smile at Harry, while Tonks raised a brow. "What took so long?" she asked, glancing toward the office.

Harry shrugged. "Snape was just yelling at me some more," Harry lied, hoping he sounded convincing. Tonks snorted.

"Of course he was." She nodded, and Harry wasn't sure he liked her tone. His father came out of the office then and handed a vial to Remus. Remus drank the potion without hesitation. Severus turned to Tonks, a heavy scowl on his face.

"I have work to do. Escort Potter to the Great Hall before you go back on duty," he commanded, and then turning so only Harry could see him, his father smirked slightly and sneered, "I assume an Auror should be able to keep even you out of trouble." Harry almost laughed at the dichotomy of tone and expression, but he managed not to. Then, with a fierce glare that all of them were allowed to see, Severus swept from the infirmary.

Tonks whistled. "Still a git, I see," she said cheerfully. Harry narrowed his eyes in annoyance at Tonks' casual observation.

------

Harry never made it to the Great Hall. He and Tonks had met a worried Ginny and Ron on their way, and after a brief exchange, Tonks had left Harry to the two Weasleys.

Harry explained everything that had happened, and before he was even finished, Ginny threw her arms around Harry's neck, as ecstatic as Harry that Remus was going to be all right. Ignoring Ron's uncomfortable frown, Harry kissed Ginny soundly, feeling altogether too happy with his own affirmation that his friend was indeed all right.

Making sure Ginny was still close to him, Harry finally asked the obvious question, "Where's Hermione?"

"Library," Ron answered quickly. "We're supposed to bring you down there. She said she found something she wants you to see." Excitement prickling his insides, Harry grabbed Ginny's hand, and the three of them hurried on to the library.

Hermione waved them over, and after demanding an update on Remus, she nodded and then shoved a book at Harry. "It's fiction, and it's very old," she explained quickly, "but in the story, the heroine uses the Impenetrabiilis Charm the exact same way I think your mum did."

"Really?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Yes, but Harry..."

Harry's spirits sunk immediately at the frown on his friend's face. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Remember, it's just a story, Harry," she warned him. At Harry's scowl, she rushed on, "They needed both people to activate the charm. Your mum would need to be the one to do the incantation."

Harry slumped in his chair as the bitter disappointment washed over him. He had so hoped that Hermione would have found another answer. "Are you sure, Hermione? It has to be the caster?" he asked, his voice still tinged with hope.

"I can't be certain, Harry. But stories like this were generally always based on some sort of facts. And it does make sense. Why else wouldn't Dumbledore have already ordered him to kill Voldemort?" Although she didn't use his name, Harry knew the 'him' that Hermione was referring to was his father.

Of course Severus would have killed Voldemort by now, if he had been able to. How daft could Harry be, walking around with this asinine hope that he wouldn't have to kill Voldemort after all? Damn it, Harry cursed himself silently, bringing his fist down on the library table. Hermione was right; his mum's charm was completely useless.

------

As soon as Harry and Ginny had entered the infirmary after dinner that night, Pomfrey had pressed a small package into Harry's hand, telling him it was from Severus. Intrigued, Harry had torn it open immediately. There was a carved wooden box and a note, neatly penned in his father's script.

Saturday dinner, the note read, use the infirmary Floo after your visit with Lupin. Incendio this. Harry had grinned at the last line, and then shook his head at his father's seemingly endless knowledge about his plans. He'd known that Harry had Quidditch practice after lunch tomorrow and had assumed, just as Harry had planned, that he would come to visit Remus right afterward.

After Harry had carefully followed his father's direction to Incendio the tiny piece of parchment, he, Ginny, and Remus had chatted about nothing in particular. When Tonks finally joined them, Harry watched with Remus while their girlfriends battled in a game of Exploding Snap.

Effectively distracted, Harry almost forgot his despair about his mum's Charm, which lasted into the next day and through another carefree visit with Remus, but as soon as Harry stepped out of the Floo the next evening, into his father's sitting room, his gut clenched as he took in the décor... his mum's things. Why hadn't they just used the Charm when they'd had the chance? He ran his finger along the brocaded pattern of one of the chairs, his eyes closed.

"Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes. His father was standing in the door to his lab, watching him.

"Are you all right?" his father asked, the concern heavy on his voice.

Harry swallowed, wanting to ask Severus about the Impentrabiilus Charm but afraid that he would refuse to answer, just like all the other questions he had asked, so he just shook his head. His father continued to just gaze at him, and Harry was beginning to feel very awkward with the two of them simply staring at one another.

Severus finally broke the silence. "You flew well today," he offered, finally stepping away from the lab door.

"You were there?" Harry asked in surprise, unable to keep the happiness from coming through his voice.

"I was," his father nodded, his features relaxing at Harry's tone. "You are extremely talented on a broom," he added.

"Thanks," Harry said with a grin. He cocked his head at the look in his father's eye. "What?" he asked.

Severus shook his head. "Tobias was a seeker... for Slytherin," he explained. His tone was strangely reserved as he mentioned his own father's name, and Harry almost wanted to apologize for emulating him, a man who had obviously caused Severus so much pain. Noticing the look on Harry's face, Severus said quietly, "I was not thinking solely of my own disappointments."

With a rush of some strange emotion, Harry stepped toward his father. Looking up at him intently, Harry told him firmly, "You aren't disappointing me."

Shocked by his own frankness, Harry wasn't surprised when Severus stared at him in stunned silence. And then his father's lip twisted, and he asked wryly, "Do you remember when I told you that we would need to work on your ability to lie?"

"Hey!" Harry objected indignantly. "I'm not lying!"

His father raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps... you would be, however, were your expectations not so low," he informed him. Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, not sure how to counter that disturbing piece of truth.

So finally he shrugged. "All right, but even so, you're not doing so badly."

Severus' lips twitched slightly. "That is a high compliment, indeed," he remarked dryly as he inclined his head, and Harry grinned sheepishly at him. "You are hungry, I presume?" his father asked, changing the subject as he walked past Harry to the table. He turned around again when Harry didn't answer.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked suddenly, heat creeping up in his cheeks, but feeling all of a sudden much more courageous after his earlier honesty.

His father frowned at him, though not in anger. "You may," he agreed.

Steeling himself, Harry asked quickly, "Did mum use the Impenetrabiilis Charm on your arm?"

"Where did you hear that name?" Severus asked sharply, and Harry swallowed, flicking his eyes downward to study the carpet.

"Erm... Hermione found it in a book," he answered hesitantly.

Snape made a low snarling noise, and Harry's eyes flew up. "Your friends know too damned much," Snape said furiously.

"But why does it matter if I know?" Harry wondered, his voice small.

"Because you do not need to be burdened with this," Severus snapped, and when Harry tried to object, Severus leaned forward slightly. "I assume that you have gotten it into your head that I can destroy the Dark Lord any time I wish?" he demanded, and Harry shook his head quickly, even though that had been exactly what he'd been hoping.

"Is that why you did not seem disturbed by the prospect of killing the Dark Lord?" his father asked sharply. Before Harry had a chance to answer, his father demanded, "Why did you not mention this then?" The lines in his face deeply etched in anger.

"Hermione was still researching... she wasn't sure you wouldn't need mum--" Harry tried to explain, but Severus turned away abruptly, and Harry bit his lip. "I'm sorry, sir," he whispered. Snape spun back around, a pained look on his face.

"I am not angry with you, Harry," he said softly, though his voice remained rough.

Harry swallowed once and then forced himself to ask, "What's wrong, then?"

Severus shook his head, his dark eyes unfocused. "We should not have waited," he whispered, and Harry was startled by the tone of absolute misery in his father's voice. "Your mother and I designed that Charm... but right after I took the Mark, I found out that Lily was pregnant... I refused to allow her to activate it, and then, after you were born, I was still unwilling to put her in danger."

Severus sank down onto the sofa, his face bloodless as he said hoarsely, "I killed her... and you... it is my fault that you have that scar... it is my fault that you will have to kill Voldemort."

Harry stared at his father. And then, for one brief instant, he wanted to grab him and shake him, to scream at him, "How could you have let this happen?!" but he couldn't do that. How could Harry accuse his father of anything after Cedric... and Sirius?

And no matter the choices Severus had made, no matter how far the horrifying repercussions of those choices reached, Harry wouldn't hurt him like that. And then Harry wondered fleetingly if Remus had felt similarly after Sirius had died. He felt all at once grateful for his friend's kindness, as he made the only choice he could.

His insides squirming madly, Harry sat carefully on the sofa next to his father, their positions reversed from the first time they had sat there together. Harry had no idea what to say. He didn't think a simple, 'it's not your fault', would do much good. And Harry couldn't know how his father might react to an attempt at comfort.

Forcing himself to stay calm, Harry said quietly, "I don't think mum would want you to do this to yourself."

Severus didn't look up as he answered shakily, "She is dead only because of my fear. I killed her."

"You didn't kill her," Harry interrupted forcefully. "Voldemort killed her, and Voldemort gave me this scar. You couldn't have known what he would do."

"I knew what he was capable of," his father spat, his fists were now clenched in his lap and his head was up again, though he was staring at a spot off to the left. "I watched the Dark Lord kill countless people, and I did nothing, because I wanted to protect Lily... and you."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to keep your family safe," Harry said quietly.

"Safe?" his father echoed venomously, whipping his head around. "I did nothing for either of you," he said angrily. Closing his eyes, he was whispering, "I left you. Left all of you there as fodder for Voldemort."

"It's not your fault," Harry insisted, shocked by the intensity of his father's regret. "Mum told you I wasn't your son!"

"And that was all it took?" Severus sneered. "One word, and like a coward, I ran away? It should not have mattered. Do you have any idea how much James loved you and your mother?" he asked suddenly, his eyes intense, turning now to look at Harry.

Harry, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question, could only shake his head.

Severus held Harry's gaze. "James gave up everything he could have had just to keep Lily safe, and then later to keep you safe. He never once questioned any of it... James would not have left..." Severus looked away again, his lips pinched tightly together, and Harry knew he was trying to bring himself back under control, most likely by burying his thoughts.

Harry's throat closed as he listened to his father's anguish. His guilt over so many things. Actions that could never be changed. And Harry was beginning to understand just how much it meant to his father to have this second chance. Harry had been surprised over and over that Snape had seemed so willing to make an effort, but how could he not be willing in light of his remorse? He was trying to atone for so many things, so much beyond just his indefensible treatment of an innocent boy for five years.

Harry swallowed slowly, trying to stop the emotions that were rising up, threatening to consume him. How could he possibly tell his father that any of this was not his fault? But his father didn't deserve to feel this way, not about his mum and James. Nobody deserved this.

So Harry shifted forward on the sofa, preparing to say what needed to be said. It was, after all, the only thing he had wanted to hear after Sirius had died. Harry put his hand carefully on his father's left arm. "I forgive you," he offered quietly. Severus' head jerked around, his black eyes wide. "Mum would forgive you, too," Harry added.

His father's jaw tensed. "You do not--" he began in a hard tone, but Harry squeezed the arm gently.

"Yes, I do. I understand. Sirius died because of me. And Cedric..."

"Harry," Severus started to object, but Harry shook his head.

"I know," he rushed on, "and that's my point. You didn't mean for any of this to happen, any more than I meant for Sirius--"

Harry couldn't finish through the clog in his throat, so he said instead, "If you had known that mum and James would be killed...or that I would have to face Voldemort, you would have made different choices... you did the best you could."

Harry had to bite his cheek to stop the sob that wanted to break free as he watched his father, the mask completely gone. The pain was almost unbearable to witness, and Harry was certain that the ache was echoed in his own eyes.

Not knowing what else he could say to still the sorrow in both of them, Harry leaned forward. "Dad," he said softly, the word breaking gently off his tongue before he was even aware that he'd thought it. His father drew in a harsh breath. And then Severus' hand closed over Harry's. They sat together in silence, because for now, there was nothing more that needed to be said.

1996

Harry stared at his father. And then for one brief instant, he wanted to grab him and shake him, to scream at him, “How could you have let this happen?!” but he couldn’t do that. How could Harry accuse his father of anything after Cedric…and Sirius?

And no matter the choices Severus had made, no matter how far the horrifying repercussions of those choices reached, Harry wouldn’t hurt the man like that. And then Harry wondered fleetingly, if Remus had felt similarly after Sirius had died and he felt all at once grateful for his friend’s kindness, as Harry made the only choice he could.

His insides squirming madly, Harry sat carefully on the sofa next to his father, their positions reversed from the first time they had sat there together. Harry had no idea what to say. He didn’t think a simple, ‘it’s not your fault’, would do much good. And Harry couldn’t know how his father might react to an attempt at comfort.

Forcing himself to stay calm, Harry said quietly, “I don’t think mum would want you to do this to yourself.”

Severus didn’t look up as he answered shakily. “She is dead only because of my fear. My fear killed her.”

“You didn’t kill her,” Harry interrupted forcefully. “Voldemort killed her and Voldemort gave me this scar. You couldn’t have known what he would do.”

“I knew what he was capable of,” his father spat, his fists now clenched in his lap and his head was up again though he was staring at a spot off to the left. “I watched the Dark Lord kill countless people and I did nothing, because I wanted to protect Lily…and you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to keep your family safe,” Harry said quietly.

“Safe?” his father echoed venomously, whipping his head around. “I did nothing for either of you,” he said angrily and then, closing his eyes, he was whispering again. “I left you. Left all of you there, fodder for Voldemort.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry insisted, shocked by the intensity of his father’s regret. “Mum told you I wasn’t your son!”

“And that was all it took?” Severus sneered. “One word and like a coward, I ran away? It should not have mattered. Do you have any idea how much James loved you and your mother?” he asked suddenly, his eyes intense, turning now to look at Harry.

Harry, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question, could only shake his head.

Severus held Harry’s gaze. “James gave up everything he could have had, just to keep Lily safe, and then later to keep you safe. He never once questioned any of it…James would not have left…” Severus looked away again, his lips pinched tightly together and Harry knew he was trying to bring himself back under control, most likely by burying these thoughts.

Harry’s throat closed as he listened to his father’s anguish. His guilt over so many things. Actions that could never be changed. And Harry was beginning to understand just how much it meant to his father to have this second chance. Harry had been surprised over and over that Snape had seemed so willing to make an effort, but how could he not be willing, in light of his remorse? He was trying to atone for so many things, so much beyond just his indefensible treatment of an innocent boy for five years.

Harry swallowed slowly, trying to stop the emotions that were rising up, threatening to consume him. How could he possibly tell his father that any of this was not his fault? But his father didn’t deserve to feel this way, not about his mum and James. Nobody deserved this.

So Harry shifted forward on the sofa, preparing to say what needed to be said. It was, after all, the only thing he had wanted to hear after Sirius. Harry put his hand carefully on his father’s left arm. “I forgive you,” he offered quietly. Severus' head jerked around, his black eyes wide. “Mum would forgive you too.”

His father’s jaw tensed. “You do not-” he began in a hard tone, but Harry squeezed the arm gently.

“Yes, I do. I understand. Sirius died because of me. And Cedric…”

“Harry,” Severus started to object, but Harry rushed on.

“I know. And that’s my point…you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, anymore than I meant for Sirius-” Harry couldn’t finish through the clog in his throat so he said instead, “If you had known mum and James would be killed…or that I would have to face Voldemort, you would have made different choices…you did the best you could.”

Harry had to bite his cheek to stop the sob that wanted to break free as he watched his father, the mask completely gone, the pain almost unbearable to witness and Harry was certain the ache was echoed in his own eyes.

Not knowing what else he could say to still the sorrow, in both of them, Harry leaned forward. “Dad,” he said softly, the word breaking gently off his tongue before he was even aware that he’d thought it. His father drew in a harsh breath. And then Severus’ hand closed over Harry’s and father and son sat together in silence, because for now, there was nothing more that needed to be said.

xxxxx

Harry’s second meal with his father awhile later was a much more comfortable affair than the first had been. Severus couldn’t seem to ask enough questions, but Harry didn’t mind. It seemed he wanted to get to know as much about Harry as he could, as though their earlier conversation had pulled out some sort of invisible barrier between them.

“An Auror?” his father repeated when Harry told him about his tentative future plans.

Harry nodded. “I talked with McGonagall about it last term.”

“And Umbridge, as I recall,” Severus added darkly and Harry shrugged, not even surprised that his father had somehow known that.

“Yeah, she seemed to think I wasn’t Auror material,” Harry said with a small smile.

Severus tilted his head. “You may not enjoy being at the command of the Ministry,” he told Harry seriously.

Harry thought about that. “Because of corruption, you mean?”

“Scrimgeour was an Auror,” his father agreed simply.

Harry raised his eyebrow, smirking a bit. “I take it you don’t think very highly of Aurors?” he asked.

Severus pursed his lips before replying, “In general, I do not. There are however a few who have my respect.”

“The ones in the Order?” Harry wanted to know, thinking specifically of Shacklebolt. Severus nodded.

“It will perhaps cease to be such an issue after-” Severus stopped abruptly, his jaw tensing slightly and Harry leaned forward.

“You can say it,” Harry urged quietly and when his father didn’t answer, he pressed, “You told me it wasn’t healthy to pretend something doesn’t exist.”

Severus raised a brow, his upper lip curling a fraction. “Interesting what you choose to retain,” he said dryly and Harry smiled.

“Oh, I retain pretty well everything you say,” he told his father airily, “I just choose not to always listen.”

“Indeed?” Severus intoned.

Harry nodded more seriously and thinking he probably shouldn’t, he said carefully, “Listen, can we revisit the whole ‘not telling my friends things’ issue?”

Severus raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You wish to negotiate the terms of your detention?” he asked.

Harry smirked, recognizing the teasing lilt. “No…but I do want you to try and understand why I told my friends.” His father’s expression cleared and he nodded once, encouraging Harry to continue.

“Look,” Harry began and then paused as he attempted to gather into words what he was trying to express and hoping he wouldn’t hurt his father more than necessary, “it’s just that, well, I’ve really only ever had Ron and Hermione during the past five years.”

He rushed on quickly as Severus' face stiffened, “Some years were really hard and I had to have someone to confide in. I tried sometimes to ask for help from the other Professors but it just never worked,” he tried to explain. He wished that his father could just understand what he’d been through but he also didn’t have any desire to share with Severus how even more important his friends were to him than perhaps they would be to a normal teenager. Hermione and Ron were of course the only real first friends that Harry had ever had. But, he couldn’t tell him that.

“I know the adults in your life have been a disappointment to you-” Severus started to agree, but Harry interrupted before he could finish.

“It’s not just that though. Ron and Hermione…and now Ginny, well they just understand things and they know me…” Harry bit his lip, realizing this was not coming out at all like he’d meant it to. He changed tactics quickly. “I mean, I know I can talk to you about Voldemort and you know all that stuff, but-” Hmm…this was not sounding much better. So he just shrugged and said forcefully, “I trust them. They would never betray me.”

“And you could not have explained this to me in my classroom last Saturday?”

Harry stared at his father, the response was so unexpected. Did that mean he had understood? Impossible, Harry realized as he noted that Severus was holding himself a little too erectly as he gazed at him. Treading even more carefully, he answered, “I did want to but not with everyone there with us.”

Severus nodded. “You trust them, but not enough to allow them to hear certain conversations,” he concluded, sounding somehow triumphant.

“That’s not what I said!” Harry denied vehemently. “I didn’t think you would appreciate me arguing with you in front of them,” he explained.

His father’s face went blank. There was a long pause. “I see,” was the only thing he seemed to be able to manage.

Harry, taking advantage of his father’s stupefied state, asked quickly, “So? Can I keep them in the loop?”

His father gave him a hard look. “If I say no, will you abide by my wishes?” His tone was utterly sarcastic and Harry squirmed, not knowing if he was really expecting an answer.

Harry sighed and answered anyway, “Probably not.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “You realize, I assume, that your answer simply means that I will share much less than I would otherwise.”

Harry bit his lip and stilled the churning anger that the statement ignited. His voice was eerily calm when he spoke. “I can’t just do whatever you tell me to do. Not when I know it’s not a good idea.”

“You do not have enough experience to rely solely on your own judgment,” his father returned.

“I have enough, for this especially,” Harry disagreed. “I don’t need you to dictate everything I can and can’t do, all right?” It could have come out belligerent, or at the very least in a tone of annoyance, but it didn’t. It was simply matter of fact.

The sudden stiffening of his father’s hand against his napkin made Harry tense and when he spoke again, his voice was frigid. “As long as you are a student here, as your Professor, I do have some measure of authority over your actions.” Merlin, the man was full of even more self-doubts than he himself was, the boy marveled.

“This isn’t about you being my father…it isn’t,” Harry insisted when Severus looked about to argue. “And I have listened to you, about other things. I didn’t ask you anything else about Malfoy, did I? And, I’m not about to go off alone again,” Harry said with a little smile.

His father didn’t look amused. “Your obedience comes through fear,” he informed him and this time, the frost had melted a bit, though there was a fair amount of disquiet in Severus’ voice now as well.

Harry smiled. “Well, you are a bit scary,” he confided with a nod.

Severus almost smirked. “Only a bit?” he asked, as though in offense.

Harry laughed. “Well, less so than you used to be at least,” he conceded and his father shook his head in subtle amusement.

They were quiet for a moment and then Harry told Severus seriously, “I need my friends.”

And without further argument, his father nodded; the movement however was still too stilted for Harry to be completely comfortable with the acquiescence. And then Severus pushed himself up from the table, after folding his napkin neatly on the table. Harry bit his lip and expecting to be told he’d better be getting back to his dorms, stood up resignedly from his chair as well. Well, he should have known better than to bring the subject up.

And without a word, Severus stepped over to the mantel. Instead of picking up the box of Floo Powder, he reached instead for a book of some sort. He handed it Harry, saying only, “Your mother made it.”

The book was very like the one Hagrid had given Harry after his first year. A photo album. With shaking fingers, Harry ran his fingers over the fine leather cover. Glancing quickly at his father, he opened it and smiled. His mother was laughing happily, her arms wrapped around a very stiff Severus, both of them wearing school robes.

“The day we graduated from Hogwarts,” his father explained. Harry nodded and turned the page, thinking how strange it was to picture the two of them as teenagers.

The next page found Severus, his head covered in a soft yellow paint. Grinning, Harry looked up at his father again.

“We spent the following summer building our house. Your mother found that particular incident highly amusing.”

Harry felt a funny sort of pang in his gut as he nodded quickly, turning away from his father, whose face was a mixture of pain and happy remembrance. “Were you married there?” he asked, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the page.

“We were. The Headmaster performed the ceremony soon after that picture was taken.”

Harry turned the page. Dumbledore had probably taken this one, Harry decided. Both of his parents were in formal dress and again, Harry’s mum had her arms around his father, though this time, Severus’ lips were lifted in a small smile. They both looked incredibly happy. Harry swallowed and turned the page.

His very pregnant mum was standing in front of a stove, her face turned toward the camera, looking playfully exasperated. Harry’s father was scowling into the camera as he stood behind his wife.

“James took that one.”

Harry nodded and then laughed as he turned the page. An even fiercer scowl appeared on his father’s face, as James relaxed an arm around the other man’s shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

Harry shook his head and wondered, “It seems unreal that the two of you were, well at least that you didn’t hate each other,” he told his father, not sure if Severus would appreciate the term ‘friend’ applied to his relationship with James.

“Perhaps you have an idea why my attempt to ‘force Mr. Malfoy to be nice to you’, is not as ridiculous as you claimed,” his father said smoothly and Harry looked up from James’ grin, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

“And, why exactly is Malfoy supposed to be nice to me? That won’t help him not kill Dumbledore,” Harry informed his father and Harry suspected that Severus was tempted to roll his eyes.

“Lucius Malfoy will have to face the consequences of his choices eventually. It will certainly not hurt him to be in your favour.”

Harry blinked. “He wants me to put in a good word for him?” he asked incredulously.

“Draco as well, may have to answer for his acceptance of the Dark Lord’s orders.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “But you said he wasn’t going to do it!” he gasped.

Severus shook his head. “He will not, Harry. But-”

“He wants to do it, doesn’t he?” Harry interrupted and then angrily demanded, “Why are you even helping that little shit?”

“Language,” his father said mildly but then corrected, “He doesn’t want to do it, Harry, but given no other choice, he most certainly would have tried.” At Harry’s skeptical look, his father added, “Most sixteen year olds, even Malfoys, do not relish the idea of becoming murderers.”

With a resounding clap, the photo album fell to the stone floor as Harry’s hands went slack.

“Harry?” Severus asked immediately, taking a step toward Harry.

“And what about me?” he asked unsteadily. “Who am I going to answer to when I become a murderer?”

With a harsh breath, Severus stepped closer to grip Harry’s shoulders firmly, the movement absolutely instinctual, “Look at me,” his father commanded and Harry obeyed. “You are not going to become a murderer, Harry. This is a war; The Dark Lord, left alone, will continue to destroy as many people as it takes to get what he wants. Voldemort is a murderer, his soul so warped with evil that he could not even fathom feeling any of what you are feeling right now. You will never be anything like what he is,” Severus told Harry fiercely.

Harry wanted to believe him, but what difference did any of that make? He would still have to kill another being. Harry, not even thinking about it, brought his hands up to grip his father’s robes tightly and leaned his head against the man’s chest. “But I’ll still have to kill him,” he said miserably, wishing he didn’t have to be such a coward. “What if I can’t?” he whispered.

Severus shifted his hands so one was resting gently against Harry’s back while the other settled against the back of his head. He pulled Harry to him, seeming to want to still the boy’s tremors. “You cannot know how sorry I am, Harry,” he whispered. “But you will not have to do it alone…I will be there with you…for all of it,” his father promised, and Harry wanted more than anything to believe him.

xxxxx

As soon as Harry stepped through the portrait hole a few hours later, Ginny extracted herself from her friends, wrapping her arms around Harry when she reached him and kissing him deeply.

“Well, that’s quite a welcome,” he smiled as Ginny pulled back.

Ginny grinned and tugged on Harry’s hand. He followed obediently as Ginny led them to a secluded corner of the common room. When Ginny had settled herself in Harry’s lap, she demanded details of Harry’s night. Wanting to avoid the intense topics he and his father had discussed, Harry told Ginny all about the photos.

“It was really strange to see the two of them, as if they could have been friends,” Harry mused again, referring to James and his father and then telling Ginny how Severus had seemed to want him to make an effort with Malfoy.

“You don’t want to though?” Ginny questioned, looking concerned.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know how much help I’ll really be, but I don’t have any particular objections to making an effort. I don’t see that Malfoy will be able to do as much though.”

Ginny disagreed however. “I don’t know Harry. Of course Malfoy’s a beast, but he does have a lot at stake here.”

Harry swallowed, thinking about the pressure he was facing; the entire Wizarding world was counting on him, the Malfoys especially…counting on Harry to become a killer, simple as that.

Ginny noticed his sudden reticence. “Harry?”

But Harry shook his head. “Not here,” he told her, wondering briefly if Ginny had ever really considered that her boyfriend was going to have to kill someone. He shuddered at the thought of how that might make her feel after the deed was done.

“You asked about the Charm, didn’t you?” Ginny asked suddenly, obviously remembering how similarly distraught Harry had been yesterday in the library and making the connection easily. Harry nodded and Ginny squeezed his hand. “Hermione was right, then?” she guessed. At his continued silence, Ginny tried to reassure, “It’s going to be all right, Harry.”

Harry nodded mutely. Ginny took his face in her hands, holding it firmly as she assured him quietly, “It will. We’ll all still be here afterward. I’m not going anywhere, Harry.” And Harry knew that was a promise he could count on. With a sudden need for Ginny to be closer to him, as his stomach churned in fear and anger, Harry pulled Ginny to him, ignoring all the others in the room, as he kissed her fiercely. Seeming to understand what Harry was too scared to say, Ginny just kissed him back.

“Mr. Potter, Ms. Weasley!” The sharp command pushed both Ginny and Harry back to reality. McGonagall was standing in the middle of the room, looking extremely annoyed. Harry flushed at the stares and smirks from the other Gryffindors in the room. “Well, now that I finally have everyone’s attention,” their Head of House began, giving Harry and Ginny a very hard look, “I have an important announcement.”

“As of now, no student is to be alone in the castle, or on the grounds. You must always be in pairs and it goes without saying that you are never to be without your wands.” As the students were beginning to glance at one another in some confusion and even worry, McGonagall continued, “We have no wish to worry you, of course, but the Headmaster has decided that after You Know Who’s visit to the Ministry of Magic, it is a prudent measure to take.”

Much whispering and muttering began around the common room which McGonagall stilled with a raise of her hand. “Any student found disregarding these new rules will receive an immediate detention and will lose fifty points for Gryffindor.” Silence followed this statement. “I trust you understand the importance of this new policy?” she asked. The Gryffindors nodded their heads obediently, still too stunned to speak. Satisfied, McGonagall nodded as well. The students stared after her as she left without another word.

xxxxx

The other Houses had obviously had been given the same orders, as Harry didn’t see a single student on their own during the rest of the week and on into the new week. On Tuesday, with Ginny’s encouragement firmly lodged in his head, Harry entered the Potions classroom with Ron and Hermione, determined to attempt to get along with Malfoy, or at least attempt not to despise the Slytherin quite as much. Malfoy really didn’t help much with that effort.

As soon as Harry sat down next to the scowling blonde, he knew it was going to be a very difficult class. After the usual lecture, glower firmly in place, Malfoy demanded that Harry light his cauldron.

“You know,” Harry said through clenched teeth as he started the fire, “you don’t need to be such an arrogant little arse.”

Malfoy glared at him. “At least I’m not an attention-seeking little prat,” he growled.

Harry looked up from the Crushed Bat Wings he was pouring into the cauldron. “That’s exactly what you are, Malfoy. And you just hate that anyone could take any attention from you,” he told the other boy coolly.

With an angry swipe, Malfoy took the vial of Wings from Harry’s grasp.

“What’s your problem?” Harry demanded angrily, making a grab for the little vial. Malfoy sneered at him.

“You don’t even know how to pour ingredients into a cauldron properly. It’s no wonder Professor Snape thinks you’re an idiot.”

Harry had to force down the anger as it tried to push itself upwards. He turned to his ingredients, ignoring the insult. Malfoy however, grinned and asked nastily, “What, Potter? No snappy retort for me this time?” With a snort, he reached for the knife Harry had picked with the intention of slicing the Gropfus Roots. “I’d better take care of that,” Malfoy told Harry haughtily. Harry tensed.

“Leave it alone,” Harry said warningly, but Malfoy ignored him.

“Give it here, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, tugging a bit on the blade.

“No,” Harry refused, trying to wrench the knife from the Slytherin’s grasp. Malfoy pulled steadily until with a shrill yelp, he dropped it completely and Harry gasped as he watched the deep red blood spurting form the Slytherin’s palm. Harry shrank down in his seat as Severus hurried over to their table.

While Malfoy moaned in overdone agony, Severus waved his wand quickly and the bleeding stilled. Severus snapped out, “What happened?”

“Potter stabbed me,” Malfoy groaned piteously.

“I did not!” Harry objected furiously.

“Mr. Zabini, Ms. Parkinson, take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing,” their Professor commanded and the Slytherins moved swiftly to obey. Without pausing, Severus snapped to Harry, “Detention after class, Potter. And put away your supplies.” And then his father was sweeping away.

Harry balled his hands into fists, his teeth grinding madly together. How did they always manage to return to this? And how did Malfoy always find a way to make Snape angry with him? With resentful motions, Harry cleared his desk before his father could start sneering more commands, and then he folded his arms across his chest and glared at the board.

When the class was finally dismissed, Harry was still glaring. He didn’t stop even when his father’s black robes blocked his view of the ingredients list. “You have an explanation, I assume,” he said quietly.

“You assume it’s my fault, you mean?” Harry snapped, not moving at all.

“I do not care whose fault it was, Harry. I want to know what happened.” When Harry didn’t answer, his father said tersely, “Now.”

“Malfoy was being a jerk, as usual.”

“So, you stabbed him?” Severus queried curiously.

Harry glared up at his father. “I didn’t stab him! He told me I was too stupid to chop the roots so he tried to take the knife to do it himself. It wasn’t my fault,” he insisted.

“I did not think it was,” his father said smoothly and Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Then why are you yelling at me?” he demanded.

Severus raised an eyebrow at that. “I am not yelling at you. I simply asked for an explanation.”

“And you didn’t even let me finish the Potion!” Harry reminded his father.

“Harry, we have a part to play. You know that.”

“Well, I’m sick of it,” Harry informed him with a scowl.

His father sighed. “As am I. There is no help for it however,” he said in resignation, which for some reason annoyed Harry further. But before Harry could find a suitable retort, his father asked, “Would you like to use this time for our Occlumency lesson so that you may visit with Lupin tonight?”

Harry bit his lip as he stared up at his father. Feeling slightly ashamed for thinking the worst of the man, he said quietly. “All right…thank you, sir.”

Severus nodded without commenting on Harry’s discomfort. They spent the rest of the lesson dueling.

When they finally wrapped up the lesson before dinner Harry, feeling much more himself, asked slyly if they could skip completely their Thursday lesson so that he could spend even more time in the infirmary, to which his father immediately replied, “No.”

“I can stay longer next Tuesday,” Harry wheedled to which his father simply raised one of his blasted eyebrows and when Harry tried compromising with, “How about I just come a bit later on Thursday?” Severus had informed Harry he would certainly have a real detention if he was even as much as a second late on Thursday. Harry simply rolled his eyes.

Harry was exactly thirty seconds late for their next lesson on Thursday; Severus didn’t mention detention. And Harry contented himself with spending the rest of his free hours in the Infirmary with his friend while he recovered. Blissfully free of any other obligations on Friday, Harry spent the entire evening with Remus and Tonks.

“You’re cheating, Remus,” Harry complained as he played Wizard’s Chess with Tonks while Remus whispered hints none too discreetly to her every few minutes.

Remus grinned. “Well, I can’t have her losing to you, now can I?” he demanded.

Tonks swatted his arm. “I can win without your help,” she retorted though in the next minute she was leaning in eagerly for another clue. Harry objected again, but only half-heartedly. For in truth, he’d never seen Remus as happy as he seemed to be when he was with Tonks and there was no way he’d begrudge his recovering friend a bit of fun.

And that was how Harry was soundly trounced by Tonks, with ‘just a spot of help’ from Remus, as he kept insisting when Harry was demanding a rematch. Tonks though agreed to Harry’s demand and the three of them were soon embroiled in another lengthy game.

“I have to be on duty in a few minutes,” Tonks sighed after she’d beaten Harry for the second time in a row and given both Remus and Harry a congratulatory kiss, to which Harry had stammered something about Ginny.

Tonks had only grinned and asked, “Do you want me to walk you back to the tower, Harry?” Harry didn’t, not really so he shook his head. “All right,” she agreed and then turned to give Remus another kiss.

Before she left, she squeezed Harry’s hand lightly and said seriously, “Thanks Harry,” and then the look that passed between the couple made Harry feel strangely warm, even though he’d already really known how much he meant to Remus.

Harry nodded and with a cheerful wave, Tonks left the infirmary. Both Remus and Harry watched her go. “She really likes you, you know,” Remus told him, the pleased smile letting Harry know just how important that was to him.

“Tonks is great,” Harry told his friend and Remus nodded, his eyes glinting with something Harry couldn’t quite identify but as Remus seemed happy enough, he wouldn’t worry over it.

“She is,” Remus nodded and then asked, turning his attention fully to Harry, “How are you?”

Harry shrugged as he answered, “All right. I really do have too much to do this term though, just like, erm, Severus said.”

Remus smiled at Harry’s slight fumbling. “How is it going with your father?”

Harry half-smiled at Remus’ overly-obvious correction. “Occlumency’s going well,” Harry shrugged, but Remus shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant. How are things between you?” Remus clarified.

Harry wasn’t really sure how to answer that. It had really been a strange week, and truthfully, Harry had alternated during most of it, between feeling either awkward or oddly secure.

“All right, I think,” Harry finally decided.

“You think?” Remus asked with some amusement.

Harry shrugged. “He’s been awfully nice about you,” he said after a minute.

“Madame Pomfrey told me about the Elixir he made. Severus created it specifically to help me,” Remus said.

Harry nodded. “I know. I thought he’d be angry because,” Harry swallowed as he remembered how upset he’d been last Thursday night, “well, because of how worried I was about you,” he finished. “He wasn’t though,” he added before Remus could interrupt him. “I think he’s really trying, Remus.”

Remus smiled. “I think he is too,” he agreed gently. “So, why do sound so disturbed by the idea?”

Harry flushed, wishing Remus hadn’t picked up on that. “I don’t know,” he said helplessly. “Only, well, he’s just too nice, Remus,” he said with frustration.

Remus smirked at him. “And you keep expecting him to be an unreasonable git?”

“Well, yeah!” Harry said indignantly. “How am I supposed to know what to expect from him if he keeps being so reasonable?” he asked, feeling ridiculously outraged at his father’s audacity.

Remus considered his young friend for a moment before asking seriously, “What do you expect from him?”

Harry looked away from his friend’s penetrating gaze as he shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like the answer to that question at all.

“That he’ll change his mind? Decide he doesn’t want to be your father after all?” When Harry didn’t answer, Remus said quietly. “He won’t change his mind, Harry.”

You are my son. Nothing is going to change that…

“He said that too…” Harry murmured and Remus only nodded. And then the Floo flared to life and Harry gasped as Severus stepped into the Infirmary.

“It seems you need to work harder on Occluding your mind if my sudden appearance in a Floo startles you so,” he commented dryly.

Harry scowled good-naturally at him. “I don’t walk around with my shields up all day, you know.”

Harry was startled when Snape narrowed his eyes. “You do not have your shields up now?” he asked, his tone dark.

“Erm,’ Harry stammered, confused, “no sir,” he answered nervously when his father continued to stare at him. Was he supposed to? “Am I supposed to?” he asked hesitantly and didn’t like it all when his father scowled. “I Occlude my mind before sleeping every night,” Harry tried to explain quickly.

“Harry,” Severus said, sounding more exasperated than irritated. “Were you under the impression that the Dark Lord will only attempt to reach your mind during our Occlumency lessons?” he all but sneered. “Of course you need to at least keep minimal shields up at all times." Harry threw up in hands in frustration.

“Well, you never told me that!” he retorted. Severus stared at him.

“I did not think it necessary.”

“Of course it’s necessary!” Harry told him heatedly. “Who else was going to tell me? The first time I ever heard of Occlumency was last year. I wasn’t exactly privy to all sorts of Wizarding knowledge before I started at Hogwarts, you know!” Harry was glaring now and his father’s pale face had lightened a shade or two.

“Harry,” his father began but Harry didn’t feel like listening to a half-attempted apology right now, all good feelings toward his father having evaporated as he lurched too close to a rant to be deterred.

“I spent ten years in a cupboard, literally locked away from everything to do with the Wizarding world,” he snapped, folding his arms across his chest, and then waited for his revelation to sink in. Severus’ jaw tensed.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice suddenly full of pain.

Harry drew in a breath. “You know?” he repeated, startled out of his anger. “How could you have known?” He hadn’t thought anybody had known.

Severus closed his eyes briefly before explaining, “After that night you were hurt playing Quidditch, I forced the Headmaster to give me every detail he had about you.”

Harry gaped at his father. “Dumbledore knew? All this time? And he just let me stay there?” he gasped, tears rising suddenly to his eyes. Somebody had known, and they had done nothing to help him? And Dumbledore had made him go back there every summer, knowing what would be waiting for him. “How could he do that to me?” Harry demanded, a few of the tears spilling over. Harry swiped at them angrily.

“It was for the blood wards,” Severus tried to explain.

“I know all about the blood wards,” Harry told him harshly, not caring at all how safe he had supposedly been in the Dursley's house.

“He was trying to keep you safe,” Remus interjected.

“Safe?” Harry shouted, at both of the adults. “Do you have any idea what my life was like? For ten years, I was treated like a house-elf. I didn’t have any friends, barely enough food and not one person who cared about me! I’m sick of Dumbledore and all his ridiculous secrets. Everything he does mucks everyone else up. Sirius is dead because of him, you almost died Remus, doing whatever asinine thing Dumbledore told you to do and for all I know, he bloody well kept me from my father for fifteen years!” Harry was screaming by this point, his face almost purple from the effort.

When neither his father nor Remus made any sort of attempt to respond, Harry turned away from them, keeping his voice hard as he asked, “Do you even know how much harder it was to go back there every summer, knowing I belonged somewhere else? Five summers and still one more…”

“Harry,” his father breathed, from right behind him now and even Harry could hear how appalled Severus sounded. “You will never have to see those Muggles again.”

Harry spun around and breathed in a rush, “But Dumbledore--”

“I do not give a damn what that old fool has to say about it,” Severus said harshly. “I will not send you back to that house.”

I will not send you… Harry stared at him, not daring to believe it. “But-” he tried to say and faltered when his father brushed Harry’s fringe gently from his forehead, the fingers lingering at his temple.

“You believe I would be with you as you face Voldemort and then abandon you to your Muggle relatives?” he asked, his mouth turned down in disbelief. Harry wasn’t sure what to say. “Ah,” his father murmured as understanding dawned. “You do not believe the first either.”

Severus nodded quickly as his eyes went blank. “I have earned your mistrust, of course.” When Harry would have argued, his father shook his head. “Do not deny yourself your hesitancy. You may take as long as you need until you begin to feel secure. I am not going anywhere.” As Severus held his gaze, the warmth filling the previously empty black orbs, Harry finally heard the truth behind his father's words.

1996

Madame Pomfrey released Remus early on Saturday morning and he, along with a red and golden-haired Tonks, poked his head into the dressing-room tent a few minutes before the first Quidditch game of the season, with Tonks calling out with firmly closed eyes, “Anybody starkers in here?” When no shouts of affirmation greeted her question, Tonks peeled open one eye carefully and grinned, pulling Remus over to the benches where the Gryffindor boys were gathered around Ron.

Harry smiled in greeting and then went back to bending over an almost catatonic Ron. “You’ll be fine, Ron,” Harry was trying to assure his friend but the redhead could only shake his head.

“Oh, quit being a baby!” Ginny snapped, not even bothering with Tonks’ precaution before stepping into the tent. Katie Bell and Hermione followed, though with more caution and Hermione seemed to be keeping her gaze firmly fixed straight ahead, as though afraid of what she might see.

Harry shook his head at Ginny and though she folded her arm across her chest and flopped onto one of the benches looking disgruntled, Ginny didn’t goad her brother any further.

Hermione sat down next to Ron and said soothingly, “Harry’s right; you’ll be wonderful.”

Strangely enough, Hermione’s reassurance brought a smile to Ron’s lips, where Harry's had clearly failed. Ron nodded jerkily and then taking Hermione’s hand, he nodded once again, more solidly and then dragged Hermione from the room, without a word. The rest of the team and the two adults watched them go, bewildered by Ron’s swift mood change.

Harry simply shook his head and turning back to his gathered team, he directed them to get their brooms so they could get out onto the pitch.

“Harry, can I have a word?” Remus asked as Harry and Ginny turned toward the exit to follow the rest of the team. Harry turned back obediently while Tonks wiggled her eyebrows, which strangely enough, matched her two-toned hair.

“Come on, Ginny,” Tonks whispered, “boys and their secrets, you know.” Ginny, although she was privy to all of Harry’s secrets, nodded with a grin of her own and followed a chattering Tonks outside.

“Everything all right, Remus?” Harry asked, trying not to be nervous.

Remus nodded though. “I have a message for you, that’s all,” he told his young friend.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, thinking quickly of anything he could have done in the past eighteen hours that his father could want to lecture him about. Coming up with nothing, Harry asked quickly, “Voldemort?” hoping desperately that his father hadn’t been called away.

“He just wanted to wish you good luck,” Remus explained and Harry flushed with pleasure.

“He did?”

Remus smiled. “When I commented that he was inadvertently hoping for a Slytherin loss with his good-luck wish, he made sure to insist that he was hoping for no such thing,” Remus added, his eyes twinkling.

“Of course he did,” Harry chuckled, still immeasurably pleased by his father’s words. “Will you be seeing him before the game?” Harry asked eagerly.

Remus nodded. “Tonks and I are sitting with the rest of the Professors.”

“Will you tell him that I’ll do my best to make his wish come true?” Harry asked with a smirk.

Remus laughed. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sentiment,” he agreed, clapping Harry lightly on the shoulder before going back to Tonks.

His steps light, Harry joined his team outside the tent. Ron hurried over a minute later, looking particularly disheveled, with a flushed Hermione by his side. Harry rolled his eyes at his grinning friends and led his team out onto the pitch.

Malfoy looked positively grim when Harry stepped into the center of the pitch. Harry smoothed his features, giving nothing away and then the whistle was blown and the two Seekers, and their teams, streaked toward the sky. The game lasted long into the afternoon and when it finally ended, Harry was positive his father must be filled with all sorts of conflicting emotions. The thought made him smile as he and his teammates cheered raucously on their way back to the dressing tent.

Amid shouts and some playful roughhousing, Harry finally managed to pull himself and Ron out of the tent again. Harry found himself with Ginny’s arms around him as soon as he cleared the opening flap. Harry figured Ron was in a similar situation with Hermione but he didn’t spare a glance as Ginny’s lips were immediately locked with his and he spent the next few minutes blissfully airless.

“Give it a rest, Harry,” Ron finally demanded, shoving Harry lightly on the shoulder. Harry ignored his friend for another few seconds before he finally pulled away from Ginny. Ginny, pink-cheeked and frowning pushed her scowling brother aside, as she and Harry started on their way back to the castle.

Hermione and Ron fell into step beside them. “That was brilliant,” Hermione congratulated all of them. “The Slytherins were furious,” she told them all cheerfully, and then her face fell a bit as she glanced at Harry. “Well, not Professor Snape of course, Harry,” she amended quickly.

Harry shrugged. “I doubt he was delighted with our win,” he said easily.

“Delighted?” Ron echoed. “I can’t imagine Snape being delighted about anything,” he scoffed.

Harry grinned. “Yeah,” he agreed, though he was certain he’d seen his father at least pleased before. More than once as a matter of fact.

It seemed like most of the student body was gathered outside the wide stone steps leading into the castle, some sitting on the stairs, while other sprawled about the lawn, enjoying the last of the fine fall season and replaying the more tense parts of the Quidditch Match. A few Slytherins were gathered near the bottom of the steps; they seemed to be the only ones not smiling.

Harry and his friends ignored them as they went by, or at least that was their intent, until Nott drawled, “Having any more scary dreams this year, Potter?”

Harry tensed.

“Shut up, Nott,” Ron said heatedly from beside Harry. Knowing nothing good could come from a confrontation with Slytherins, Harry put his hand on his friends arm, urging Ron to be quiet.

“Really, Weasley? Why don’t you quit hiding behind your little Mudblood girlfriend there and make me?” Nott jeered.

Before Harry could stop him, Ron had whipped his wand out and said menacingly, “Don’t you dare call Hermione that foul name, Nott.”

Nott reciprocated by slipping out his own wand and drawling, “Which name? Mudblood?” and then before Ron could make good on his threat, Nott said lazily, “Furnunculus,” and angry red boils sprang up all over Ron’s face.

“Ron!” Hermione screamed shrilly, while Ron moaned in pain. The Slytherins all started laughing though Malfoys’ chuckles sounded a bit forced. “Ron, come on, let’s get you to the Hospital Wing,” Hermione commanded, paying no attention to the Slytherins or their laughter, though Ginny’s face turned a bright red.

Harry hastily steered her away from any sort of retribution she might have in mind. With Ginny’s hand tucked firmly in his own, Harry turned to follow his friends, but a rough hand grabbed his arm. “Where’re you going, Potter?” Zabini wanted to know, his mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. “You’re girlfriend’s not a Mudblood.” He grinned, eyeing Ginny.

Harry shivered at the way the Slytherin said girlfriend. Harry’s grip tightened against Ginny’s hand again and he started to move away again. “Hate to see something happen to her, though…she is a blood-traitor…all the Weasleys are,” Nott spat and Harry spun back around at the barely veiled threat in Nott’s words, pulling his own wand automatically and pointing it at the little group of Slytherins, his anger and fear spilling over before he could stop it.

“Stay away from us,” Harry warned, his wand steady. The rest of the Slytherins pulled out their own wands, including Malfoy though Harry thought the other boy looked a little ill, his wand trembling every so slightly in his hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” A haughty voice demanded and Harry’s veins turned to ice. Malfoys’ gray eyes widened

“Father!”

Reaching automatically for Ginny, Harry spun around and shoved Ginny behind him simultaneously, his wand thrust out in front of him as he stopped moving, the tip leveled straight at Lucius Malfoy. Harry’s hand didn’t even falter as he registered his father standing beside Lucius, his mind moving quickly to strengthen his shields to cover his surprise and relief before anyone else had time to notice.

The group of Slytherins backed up a few paces behind Malfoy, as though using him as a shield against their Head of House, and perhaps Lucius as well.

“Put away your wands,” Severus ordered sharply and Harry pushed his wand back into his sleeve though he realized only seconds later that it might have been more in keeping with their act for him to protest a bit. Harry hoped nobody had noticed.

Severus’ eyes raked over the gathered crowd of students. “All of you, away from the steps,” he snapped and the students scrambled to comply until the only students left nearby were Harry, Ginny and Malfoy.

“Pulling a wand on another student, Mr. Potter?” Malfoy scolded with a vindictive smile, before turning to Severus. “I trust Mr. Potter and his little friend will be punished accordingly,” Lucius drawled, with narrowed eyes. Severus’ black eyes flashed.

“I assure you they will be,” he promised darkly and Harry swallowed nervously, realizing that his father’s words were probably not entirely for the Malfoys’ benefit.

“Excellent,” Lucius approved and then with a snapped, “Come, Draco,” the Malfoys moved away from the castle as well.

Without pausing, Severus said coldly, “Both of you come with me.” Harry, his stomach doing quick flip flops, obeyed immediately as his father spun on his heel and began marching up the wide steps. Ginny followed suit and Harry tried to ignore both the curious and sympathetic stares as the two of them followed the Potions Master into the castle.

Severus led them to the Headmaster’s office without a word, snapping “Sugared Dapple Spice,” to the Gargoyle. The three of them spun upward slowly, giving Harry ample time to think of about a million excuses for why he’d attempted to hex Malfoy twice now. First thing he needed to do though was to get Ginny out of there. She definitely did not need to be on the receiving end one of his father’s lectures.

“Sit,” Severus directed as soon as the door was closed firmly behind them.

“Ginny didn’t do anything. She doesn’t need to be here,” Harry told his father, instead of sitting.

His father narrowed his eyes. “You are aware of the new rule that students may not be alone in the castle, I trust?” he asked, though Harry knew the question was rhetorical. He sighed.

“All right, so she can’t leave but really, she had nothing to do with this.” Harry wanted to make that clear before any yelling began.

His father considered him for a moment before asking sarcastically, “Were you under the impression that I intended to include Ms. Weasley in the admonishment I am about to give you?”

“Erm,” was all Harry could come up with.

His father shook his head, his eyes blazing. “Unfortunately, since Ms. Weasley cannot leave without you, she will not be able to escape a lecture but this one, Harry, is directed solely at you,” he finished, his tone hardening with each word. When Harry didn’t respond, his father continued, his voice harsh now, “Do you have any idea of how foolish it was to raise your wand like that?”

“Did you even realize there were half a dozen seventh year Slytherins further up the stairs?” his father demanded. Harry hadn’t noticed. “If Lucius and I had not been there, you would most likely have had even more wands aimed at you,” his father informed him angrily. Ginny beside him, was watching Severus with a strange look on her face.

“I didn’t mean-”

But his father wasn’t about to be deterred, his face twisted in a scowl. “Every single one of them could have claimed it as a defensive act. It would have been extremely easy for any of those seventh years to simply knock you unconscious and then whisk you away in the ensuing chaos. Had I not intervened, you might be with Voldemort right now!” his father spat, now leaning closely toward Harry. Then he pulled back abruptly and turned away.

Ignoring Ginny’s shock, Harry let his heart rate settle a bit before saying quietly, “I’m sorry,” although he knew it wouldn’t help. This wasn’t really about his attempting to hex another student. As daft as Harry sometimes was, even he could see that.

His father turned back around and snapped, “Your apology means little if you continue to act so rashly.”

Harry nodded quickly, knowing his father was right. “All right,” he nodded. “I get it.”

“Do you, Harry?” his father asked, his voice intense though somehow gentler as he stepped closer to Harry. “Do you really understand all that is at stake here?” he demanded softly.

Harry swallowed, not sure how to answer. Of course he knew that he had acted without thinking. And of course he understood what would happen if someone did find a way to bring him to Voldemort, not to mention what would happen to Severus if Voldemort managed to break into Harry’s mind. Why then, did he keep doing things that were so incredibly stupid?

Seeming to sense Harry’s confusion, Severus said quietly, “Keeping guard of your emotions will assist in tempering your reactions in a situation such as this.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “But I have my shields up, like you said I should,” he told his father, confused.

Severus eyed him carefully. “You have only minimal memories Occluded?” he asked. Harry knew he meant the ones that would be dangerous for Voldemort to find, so he nodded.

His father nodded briskly. “Memories are separate from emotions. You do not need to bury your emotions under your shields. As we have discussed, it is in fact not wise to do so. I believe however that you may need to work on keeping a better fix on your rather bald emotions.”

“Harry can’t be a robot,” Ginny protested, seeming finally to find her voice again. Severus glanced at her.

“I am not in fact suggesting that, Ms. Weasley. He does however need to keep his emotions under control.”

Feeling slight deja vue, Harry asked, “How do I do that?”

His father’s face relaxed and Harry thought he probably would have smiled if he had been anyone other than who he was. “I’ll show you.”

Harry didn’t even hesitate before acceding with an, “Okay.” Then remembering Ginny, he asked quickly, “Right now?”

“Do you have something more important to do?” his father enquired sharply.

Harry smiled. “No. I just meant because Ginny’s here.”

“I don’t mind,” Ginny quickly interjected and then frowned as Severus’ gaze found her. “Unless you do, Professor,” she offered, sounding more like Hermione than herself.

Severus’ face blanked. “I have no objection to your presence.”

Sensing his father’s discomfort, Harry offered, “We could work on it on Tuesday.”

His father shook his head. “It is foolish to leave yourself unguarded when I can just as easily teach you now.” His tone left no more room for arguments so Harry shrugged. Severus turned to Ginny again. “Ms. Weasley, if you would take a seat, please.” Surprise flashed in Ginny’s eyes before she nodded quickly and sat in one of Dumbledore’s chairs.

Severus turned back to Harry. “Do you remember our discussion about your godfather?” he asked unexpectedly and for some reason, Harry tensed.

“Er, yes, sir,” he said slowly. His father narrowed his eyes, in what Harry might have called a calculating manner if he hadn’t known Severus better. Harry waited for his father to continue.

“And do you further remember that you attempted to push the emotions surrounding those memories beneath your shields after I broke through?”

Harry still had no idea what possible point any of this had as he began to feel rather hot. “Yes, sir,” he nodded, trying not to sound too impatient for the man to get to it already.

Severus clenched his jaw briefly before relaxing again and saying simply, “You did that without thinking; it was a reflex. You need to get into the habit of keeping your strongest emotions at bay.”

Harry nodded. “What do I need to do?” he asked.

“I will enter your mind, as I did the first time and I will guide you through an exercise,” his father explained, taking a step to close the distance between them. “Are you ready, Harry?” he asked.

“Ready.”

His father’s fingers found the side of Harry’s face and cupped it gently against his palm. Harry looked up and into Severus’ eyes as he felt the tip of the other man’s wand against his temple. His father whispered the same spell he had used the first time they had done this and Harry all at once felt the slow familiar presence of his fathers’ mind in his own.

The presence was gentle again, a cozy warmth instead of a raging inferno and Harry didn’t strengthen his shields against it.

You are content, the flames surmised and Harry’s mind agreed. He did indeed feel content with his father’s warm hand against his cheek.

Show me what you felt when we spoke of your godfather, the flames commanded gently. A feeling of cold rushed at Harry’s conscious.

This is not grief. The flames were confused.

Worry, the storm answered automatically.

That you will be abandoned? The flames flickered with sadness and the storm became rough and black with its agreement.

Anger? The flames reared up in surprise and then softened quickly to become a cozy warmth again beside the storm. Love.

The storm stilled with its astonishment and then slowly the black storm calmed again, its darkness lightening to an even gray.

You are content. The flames were satisfied.

You love me? The chill ran through the cloud again.

I do. Warmth, steady and strong, and the storm was quiet again.

With a whispered spell, Harry floated back to awareness. His father’s hand was still on his face and Harry found his own eyelashes damp with tears. But, Severus held his gaze and Harry saw that same warmth, that same love he’d just seen inside his mind. He’d seen that warmth before in his father’s eyes; he had just never recognized what it meant. Harry smiled. His father smiled his small, familiar smile before letting his hand drop.

There was silence until Harry asked quietly. “My shields need to stay that way…contented?” he finally ventured and his father nodded.

“You will need to be very careful at first to keep them so. In time, it will come naturally to you, as the Occlusion seems to.” Severus’ voice was steady, showing no sign of discomfort and Harry smiled again. His father’s lips twitched.

“You will need to calm your thoughts if they stray. Practice daily, as you do your Occlusion.”

Harry nodded. “All right.” And then he remembered that Ginny was with them and he turned around, stepping toward her. She was still sitting in the same chair, with a look of, well…awe on her pretty face, though Harry thought she looked a bit sad as well.

“Gin?” he said quietly and she started, obviously completely lost in her thoughts. Severus was watching her now as well, his face carefully stiff.

Ginny shook her head as though to clear her mind. She nodded and stood up. And then she turned fully to Harry’s father and stepping closer to him, she tilted her face up to look at him. “Thank you,” she said simply, in the same way Tonks had said it to Harry in the Infirmary and Harry almost laughed at Ginny’s boldness.

Severus blinked once in response and then nodded curtly. He stepped back. “You are no doubt missing festivities in Gryffindor,” he remarked dryly, immediately changing the subject.

“It’s your fault Slytherin lost, you know,” Harry told his father cheerfully. “You did wish me luck,” he smirked.

Severus favored him with a cool look. “I would have preferred that you had bested Hufflepuff.”

“We’ll do that too,” Harry informed him airily.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” his father agreed, his eyes glinting. Harry grinned. “You had better be on your way then,” Severus said, inclining his head toward the door.

Harry nodded and tugged Ginny’s hand. She was still staring at Severus. “Bye,” Harry said quickly which was echoed by Ginny belatedly. Severus inclined his head.

Harry pulled Ginny to the door. “Harry,” she breathed as they rotated back to the ground floor, “do you even see how much he cares about you?” she demanded in a whisper. “I really had no idea,” she murmured, shaking her head in amazement. Harry pulled Ginny closer to him and grinned. He’d had no idea either.

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

Albus’ office was full to bursting as Severus entered through the Floo Tuesday evening. Except for Lupin, Severus was the last to arrive as he had spent the last five minutes when he should have been here, explaining to his son just why the boy could not attend tonight’s Order meeting. After finally managing to extract a gusty sigh of acceptance from Harry, Severus had sent him on to Lupin’s office so he could be escorted back to the Tower.

It had been a rarely comfortable evening between the two of them, during their Occlumency lesson. Though they hadn’t spent much time actually practicing, as Harry had seemed unable to still his parade of commentary about his various exploits over the years. And Severus had been strangely willing to forget their lesson as he listened to his son regaling him with tales of the various adventures he and his friends had had; Severus had enjoyed especially Harry’s recounting of his Care of Magical Creatures classes.

He could not imagine what Albus had been thinking when he’d given the position to the half-giant, though Severus had to admit grudgingly that Hagrid had been good to Harry. Severus could even admit to himself the pang of jealousy that had stabbed at him as Harry described his first visit to Diagon alley with the groundskeeper. He gave nothing away though as he nodded, his eyes glinting in amusement at Harry’s still-obvious wonder at the phenomenon that was Diagon Alley. But most of all, Severus had been relieved at his son’s acceptance of his earlier declaration; Harry’s ease throughout the evening was evidence enough.

Severus pulled his mind away from Harry as he sat as far from the group in Albus’ office as possible, preferring not to allow others into his personal space. He noted with a fair amount of satisfaction that no one made any move to talk to him and Albus in particular, was avoiding Severus’ gaze and Severus could not think of a more preferable way for Albus to be feeling than his rather obvious discomfiture.

When the Headmaster’s door opened a few moments later, Lupin came in, going immediately to take his seat next to Ms. Tonks. Lupin glanced over at Severus with a smile and a nod, letting the Potions Master know that Harry had made it safely back to his dorm. Nodding curtly at his son’s friend, Severus turned his attention back to Albus, ignoring the brief wash of relief that surged through him.

Albus cleared his throat lightly and instantly the scattered conversations around the room ceased. No matter how many faults the Headmaster had, he did command a formidable amount of respect from his colleagues. And for years, for Harry that had meant more pain that Severus ever cared to revisit. Severus halted that train of thought; he cleared his mind to focus on what Albus was saying to the other members of the Order. And as he did, he wished he hadn’t. He had no desire either to think about Halloween.

“It will have been fifteen years since he succeeded in giving Harry only a scar. Voldemort will be most anxious to finish what he started.” Only, Severus scoffed to himself.

“Hogwarts and their surrounding grounds, as well as Hogsmeade, will be placed under even heavier guard,” Shacklebolt informed the others, all of whom nodded.

“The Ministry Aurors will be shoring up their defenses as well, and sending one or two of their own here to protect the students,” added Jonas Farnsworth, an Order spy at the Ministry.

“Tonks and I have managed to secure ourselves a place again at Hogwarts for the evening,” Shacklebolt put in and Albus nodded.

“What about Harry?” Molly Weasley asked anxiously.

“Someone will be with Harry all night, Mrs. Weasley,” Ms. Tonks assured Molly.

“Harry’s friends will need to be under guard as well,” Shacklebolt added and Molly and her husband glanced at one another nervously. “At least three of the seventh year Slytherins have been given orders to find a way to bring Harry to You Know Who by that night,” he told them and the implication made Molly pale.

Severus pushed down his own rising tide of anxiety concerning his son. It was only made worse with Albus’ next statement.

“Voldemort, as he has every other year since his return, will certainly gather his Death Eaters around him. And without Harry, he is going to be extremely cross.” Everyone turned to look at Severus, who firmed his jaw in determination. He did not like the looks of pity that flashed across most of their faces; he appreciated even less the slightly fearful expression in Lupin’s eyes, especially as he knew it was fear for Harry that something might happen to Severus.

Stoking his raging shield so that all thoughts concerning Harry were carefully Occluded, he glared at the Order members around the room, causing a few of them to look away. Lupin, ever a courageous Gryffindor held Severus’ gaze.

“Information gathered at the meeting may have vital importance,” he told all of them icily.

“Poppy,” Albus turned to the Mediwitch, “I will need you standing by in the Infirmary.”

Poppy nodded briskly, accepting quickly that Severus would most likely need her services. Lupin swallowed and finally looked away. Severus found himself unsettled by that somehow.

“Albus,” Molly began nervously and all eyes turned to her. “If all the precautions are not enough…” she trailed off and Arthur squeezed her hand.

Albus smiled kindly at the red haired woman. “Severus will be able to get himself, and anyone else away from Voldemort if necessary,” he told her and everyone in the room again looked toward Severus. Molly’s eyes, in particular were boring into Severus’ own, screaming silently at him for a confirmation.

He only nodded sharply. Molly barely relaxed. She remained agitated throughout the rest of the meeting, not saying one more word until Albus concluded the meeting with more dire warnings about the children. Molly whispered something to Arthur and neither of them moved as the other Order members took their turns with the Floo.

When only Severus, Lupin, Minerva and Albus remained, Molly turned to Albus. “We need to speak to our children….and Harry,” she rushed out, her voice sounding strained.

Albus only nodded, not even asking her any questions; it was fairly obvious what she wanted to say to her children. Severus tensed with worry over his son’s reaction.

“Minerva, would you mind?” Albus asked and after a quick nod, Minerva left to get Harry and his friends. Albus' office remained silent until the door opened again.

Harry, along with the two Weasleys and Ms. Granger, cautiously entered the room, obviously not knowing what to expect. The Weasleys grinned when they saw their parents and rushed over for hugs. Severus felt a pang as Harry simply glanced in his direction, bit his lips and followed his friends.

After Molly had fawned over her offspring, she smiled warmly at Harry and pulled him into her embrace as well. Harry smiled, adjusting his glasses as he pulled away.

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked his mother while she was embracing the Granger girl.

Molly shifted nervously.

“Your mother and I are concerned about your safety,” Arthur said to his two children.

Harry stiffened next to Ms. Weasley. “Because of me, you mean?” he asked, his voice tight. Severus ached to go over to his son, to help ease the pain he read all over the boy’s face. But he stayed, on the other said of the room, pretending he didn’t care at all about his own son.

Molly patted Harry’s arm, distractedly it seemed to Severus. “Of course it’s not your fault, dear-”

Albus interrupted, “Harry, it is possible that Voldemort may use your friends to get to you.”

Harry paled. Severus sought Lupin’s gaze. Glancing quickly, once toward Harry and back again, Severus glared pointedly. Without a word, Lupin moved toward Harry, who was beginning to look unsteady.

“Harry, why don’t you sit down?” Lupin suggested gently and moved Harry quickly to sit.

Ms. Weasley, who had moved closer to Harry as well, placed a hand firmly on his arm. “What can we do, then?” the girl asked Albus, as if preparing to arm herself for battle.

Molly straightened her shoulders, in what was most likely an unconscious imitation of her daughter’s own stance. “Your father and I have discussed it and think it might be best for both of you to come home,” she said firmly. Even Severus couldn’t halt the quick flash of surprise in his eyes at the pronouncement though as he narrowed his eyes to consider its logic, he found he could understand her reasoning. Her children however did not seem to share that understanding.

“What?” Weasley cried. “You want us to abandon Harry?” he asked furiously.

“Absolutely not, Mum,” Ms. Weasley said stoutly.

Molly shook her head, before darting an annoyed glance toward the Headmaster. “Of course I don’t want you to abandon, Harry! As I’ve told the Headmaster over and over, Harry should be secured in a safe location, not paraded all over Hogwarts!” The Weasley matron’s voice had gone rather shrill and Severus watched her in distaste though in reality, he was in perfect agreement. Nothing would please him more than to remove Harry from Hogwarts. Permanently.

“Now, Molly, that’s not our choice,” Arthur soothed his wife. He turned apologetically to Harry. “You know Molly and I think of you as one of our own, Harry. And we have asked Professor Dumbledore, as Molly said, but it isn’t our decision...”

Harry didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up but Severus could tell by the way Harry’s fingers were wound together that it would not take much more before his son would crack. Lupin put a steadying hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry is perfectly safe here, Molly,” he told the Weasleys

“Ron and Ginny, as well,” Albus assured them. “As long as all of the children abide by the rule never to be alone, Hogwarts is a much heartier protector than almost anywhere else we could find…including the Burrow.” The Headmaster was smiling calmly and after a few quiet moments, Molly nodded jerkily.

And then she glared around at the four children. “None of you is ever to be alone…not even for a minute, do you understand me?” she asked, her voice like steel.

“Not even to go to the loo?” the imbecile called Weasley asked with a smirk. Molly however took the question seriously.

“Not even in the loo,” she snapped, “or I’ll have you home so fast, you won’t even have time to pull up your trousers!” Weasley’s face turned bright red.

“Mum!” he objected to which Molly only continued to glare. Weasley turned away, muttering.

Albus cleared his throat lightly. “Harry, if you would stay behind, Professor McGonagall can escort the other children back to the Tower.” In spite of himself, Severus felt a quick prick of gratitude toward the Headmaster for realizing Severus would want a word with his son.

Minerva nodded and gestured for the Weasleys and Ms. Granger to follow. The Weasley girl leaned in first to say something quietly to Harry, who nodded stiffly. Ms. Weasley squeezed Harry’s hand quickly and followed Minerva, though she did pause to send a reproachful look toward her parents. Neither Molly nor Arthur had any response and as soon as the children left, Molly was staring helplessly at Harry.

Arthur took his wife’s hand to guide her toward the Floo and Molly seemed to come back to herself. She rushed over to Harry and gathered the boy in her arms, pulling him upward. Harry stood stiffly in her embrace. “Take care of yourself, Harry,” she pleaded thickly and Harry only nodded. Sniffling, Molly pulled away and followed Arthur into the Floo, wiping at her eyes as she went.

As soon as they disappeared, Severus finally went to his son, feeling relieved but Harry didn’t let Severus speak.

“She’s right.”

“What do you mean?” Severus inquired quietly, willing to let Harry talk through whatever was on his mind.

“They should abandon me.”

Well, Severus had not expected that to be on his son’s mind.

“Harry, don’t say that!” Lupin exclaimed quietly, sounding scandalized.

Severus ignored him in favor of asking Harry, “Why?”

Harry finally looked up; his expression was almost blank. “Why?” he repeated, as though not sure himself. Then his expression hardened. “So they won’t get hurt.”

“Do you really believe the Dark Lord will change his plans if your friends appear to abandon you?” Severus asked, his voice very low.

His son looked down at the rug again. “No,” he answered, in the same low tone.

“Precautions will be taken,” Severus assured him.

“That won’t guarantee anything,” Harry told him, turning his eyes to Severus, as though hoping for a denial. But Severus was not going to lie to him.

“No, it does not.”

Harry swallowed, his eyes blank. “What am I supposed to do then?” he asked.

“You will continue as you always have, Harry. There is nothing else you can do.” Severus knew he was not exactly the ideal person to be giving this particular piece of advice to anyone but, for some reason Harry nodded, though he didn’t lose the almost haunted look that had crossed over his features.

Studying his son, Severus asked suddenly, “Are your shields up?”

Harry didn’t even seem surprised by the question. “Yeah,” he nodded.

“I think you need to modulate its strength a bit.” When Harry looked confused, Severus explained. “Your reactions are more subdued than I would expect.”

Harry stared at him and then shrugged. “Better to keep Voldemort in the dark, then.”

Severus pursed his lips. Harry was obviously more distraught than he was admitting to. His lack of any sort of reaction indicated just how much Harry was Occluding; his son was reminding him too much of himself.

“Harry,” Severus said, changing his tone slightly to get the boy’s attention. Harry raised his eyebrows, his face still too calm. “I already explained to you that you cannot use your shields to bury your emotions.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in a peculiar imitation of Severus. “You do,” he challenged, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice.

Severus stilled the smile that fought for space on his lips. His tactic successful, Severus pressed, “I assure you Harry, that mine is not an example you should follow in this.”

After a moment’s intense consideration of Severus, Harry sat heavily back in his chair. “I can’t let them be hurt because of me,” he explained miserably, now sounding much more himself, “Voldemort already used Ginny once to get to me, and she was only Ron’s sister then.”

“Harry, nobody could have possibly predicted that. This is different,” Lupin interjected, still standing across from Severus.

Severus found himself nodding before he had time to consider that he was actually agreeing with the werewolf. He frowned with the realization and then Severus had to cover his further surprise that Harry was watching him carefully, as though asking for a confirmation of Lupin’s words.

“Your friends will be protected,” he assured his son. “Yours and their safety are the Order’s first priority.”

Harry nodded after a moment though he didn’t really look any less worried than he had when they’d started this conversation, and Severus suspected that this would not be the final discussion on the topic. For now though, he would let the subject drop.

“There are other concerns that were addressed at the meeting,” Severus changed the subject and Harry raised his eyebrows. Severus ignored the almost identical expression on the strangely reticent Headmaster’s face as he continued, “I would like to add some defensive training to our lessons.”

“Really?” Harry asked, some eagerness finding its way into his voice, but then he tilted his head as he considered that. “But what about the D.A.?”

“We’ll still continue with it,” Lupin told him. “The other students still need to be trained as well.”

Harry nodded slowly before turning back to Severus. “What are you going to teach me?”

“Spending so much time with the Dark Lord has had its advantages. There are many useful spells and curses which fall under the category of Dark Arts. It would be wise to master as many as possible. The element of surprise alone will gain us considerable ground during a battle,” Severus explained.

“A battle?” Harry echoed, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

Severus nodded as he explained, “The Dark Lord will attack Hogwarts when he does not manage to get to you any other way.”

The muscles around Harry’s jaw jerked convulsively, though Severus could not fathom why they would.

“And what about you?” his son asked, and the barely perceptible tremor in Harry’s voice caused Severus to frown.

“Harry, if and when the Dark Lord attacks Hogwarts, my loyalties will hardly be the most important issue at hand,” Severus drawled, forcing the amusement from his voice; Harry’s fears were hardly funny.

And indeed, the boy’s emerald eyes flashed angrily. “But, they’ll still be an issue. Aren’t you supposed to be one of Voldemort’s most loyal Death Eaters?” he demanded.

Severus took a quiet breath before answering, not entirely certain that it was wise to, “I am. I will not however be the only of his followers to betray him should it come to that.”

Harry narrowed his eyes as he considered that bit of news. “You mean Malfoy?” When Severus hesitated, his son’s eyes widened. “There are others?” he asked in amazement.

Severus pursed his lips, deciding that indeed, he should have kept this to himself. “Not all of the original Death Eaters were pleased by the Dark Lord’s return.” At Harry’s look of confusion, Severus waved an impatient hand, wishing he had never begun this conversation. “Most of them were living quite happily before he returned and now they are no longer the masters of their own lives; the Dark Lord controls everything they do now.”

“But shouldn’t they have realized that before?” Harry insisted.

Severus sighed as he took in how young his son really was. “You are not old enough to realize that time can bring with it a new perspective.” Instead of bristling about the slight against his maturity, Harry nodded slowly as he considered Severus’ words.

“So, how many defectors are there?” Harry asked after he’d paused long enough.

Well, that was enough of that. Severus shook his head. “I think you have heard enough Order business for one night,” he said lightly.

“Just a bit more?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

“No,” Severus answered immediately to which, Harry smirked.

“Oh come on, one more answer won’t matter,” he cajoled.

“It is past curfew.” was Severus’ less than helpful answer.

“So?” Harry shrugged, still smiling. “I’m with two Professors.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at Harry’s cheek. “Both of whom can take points,” Severus reminded him.

Harry glanced at Lupin, who was smiling as well. “Yeah, right. Remus never takes points from anyone.” Harry’s eyes narrowed and he mused, “Hmm…come to think of it, you haven’t taken points from me in forever either."

“An oversight, which will be more than corrected if you do not get up right now,” Severus informed Harry in a hard tone, though it took considerable effort to keep his voice firm.

“Oh, fine,” Harry groused as he pushed himself up from his chair. “Come on, Remus,” he sighed dramatically. Lupin shook his head in amusement, following Harry as he started toward the door.

Harry paused before reaching it, turning slightly, smiling again. “Good night,” he said.

Severus inclined his head, allowing his face to relax. “Good night, Harry.”

As Severus watched his son walk out of the office with Lupin, he felt a moment of relief that the subject of Halloween had not come up, even as he realized he would not be able to avoid the topic forever. He would have to talk to Harry about it soon. With a somewhat weary sigh, Severus turned back to Albus, who was watching him with a bemused expression.

1996

As Severus watched his son walk out of the office with Lupin, he felt a moment of relief that the subject of Halloween had not come up, even as he realized he would not be able to avoid the topic forever. He would have to talk to Harry about it soon. With a somewhat weary sigh, Severus turned back to Albus, who was watching him with a somewhat bemused expression.

Severus eyed the Headmaster expectantly as he gestured for the Potions Master to sit.

“We will need enough Polyjuice Potion for at least twelve hours,” Albus told Severus as he sat lightly in a chair.

Severus nodded. “Who is going?”

“Alastor,” Albus answered immediately and Severus was satisfied with his choice. At the look in Severus’ eyes, Albus sighed a little. “I never had a chance to apologize to Harry,” he started.

“For which mistake?” Severus inquired icily.

Albus lifted his spectacles to rub tired old fingers over his eyelids and Severus felt a hint of guilt for his anger at the Headmaster. The old wizard was doing the best that could be expected in an entirely impossible situation. “For Remus, Severus. You must know I didn’t mean for anything to happen to him.”

Severus pursed his lips, not entirely able to believe the Headmaster. “He is aGryffindor, Albus. Did you really expect him to simply stand by and watch while you attempted to get yourself killed?”

Albus shook his head regretfully. “He insisted Severus. I could not stop him.”

“Perhaps you should have tried harder,” Severus said coldly and then looked away, shocked at his own vehemence.

“Harry would have preferred for me to be in the infirmary.” It was not a question and Severus didn’t answer. “I do not blame him, of course.” Albus said quietly. The room was silent for several moments. “I didn’t know what else to do, Severus.” Severus firmed his jaw, knowing Albus was referring to the Dursleys.

“Any one of the staff would have taken Harry,” Severus snapped, unwilling now to restrain his anger on his son’s behalf.

Albus shook his head with remorse. “Don’t you think I know that, Severus? He was safest at the Dursleys…”

“Your definition of safety is very different from Harry’s,” Severus scorned.

Albus gazed at him and Severus could almost see what the Headmaster was thinking. If you hadn’t left your family, Harry would never have had to go to the Dursleys at all.

Severus clenched his jaw, pushing down the guilt as it threatened to turn to rage at the Headmaster. The assertion was inarguable; the blame lay just as much, if not more with Severus. “The Polyjuice Potion will be ready tomorrow morning,” Severus informed the Headmaster, determined not to continue the other conversation.

Albus’ old blue eyes held Severus’ steadily for another few seconds before he answered quietly, “Bring it to my office as soon as it’s ready. Alastor will be here first thing.”

Severus nodded tersely and stood up.

“I am sorry, Severus.”

“Perhaps you should tell Harry,” Severus told the Headmaster stiffly. He waited only long enough for the Headmaster to sigh in resignation and then Severus spun around, leaving the Headmaster to his recriminations as the stepped into the Floo and called for his quarters.

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

Potions class had been blissfully peaceful since the little incident after the Quidditch game. Harry didn’t know what Lucius had said to Malfoy, and Severus had been close lipped about the entire subject when Harry had asked, but whatever had happened between father and son had been enough to rein the Slytherin in again. Malfoy had been practically pleasant during the last few class sessions. This Tuesday was more of the same.

“I can take a turn stirring,” Harry offered as they were finishing their Stumping Potion. It needed to be stirred for fifteen minutes and Malfoy had already been stirring for at least half that.

Malfoy lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug. “It needs to be a continuous motion…I don’t mind,” he told Harry, not taking his eyes off the bubbling cauldron.

“All right,” Harry nodded; it was much easier to give Malfoy a chance when he wasn’t being insufferable. Harry smiled slightly to himself as he thought wryly that he himself hadn’t exactly always been a model of good intentions toward the other boy.

While Harry waited for Malfoy to finish stirring, he began to clean up their supplies, making sure he picked up Malfoy’s as well and put the ingredients back neatly into the Slytherin’s expensive case. Malfoy looked at him briefly after Harry had finished and inclined his head, as though in gratitude. Harry shrugged in response; things were getting strange indeed.

He said as much to Remus as they walked to his office after dinner. When Harry asked his friend what could have made Malfoy change his attitude so completely, Remus shrugged. “Lucius Malfoy is not exactly the soul of patience. I doubt that would change much when dealing with Draco.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “You don’t think he hurt him, do you?” he asked suddenly and then wondered why he should even care. If he had ever known anyone in more need of a good head-knocking, it was Draco Malfoy…well maybe Dudley as well, he conceded.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Remus shook his head, though it was obvious his friend was bothered by the idea. Harry bit his lip, feeling wary about his future interactions with Draco. Even though the Slytherin was a terror, he certainly didn’t want him to be hurt by his own father. The few times he’d actually seen Malfoy with his father, the man hadn’t exactly seemed to be brimming over with affection for the boy.

Harry and Remus finished their walk in silence and Remus patted Harry on the shoulder. Harry smiled at his friend, knowing he was trying to bolster his spirits. “Try not to worry yourself sick about it,” Remus advised.

“Are you trying to say I have an obsessive personality?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“You are rather like your father in that,” Remus nodded with a laugh. Merlin, it was strange to hear Remus say something like that and know he was actually referring to Severus. “Go on, Harry.” His friend pushed him toward the Floo, still smiling.

Harry went into the Floo and he actually managed to step out into his father’s quarters without falling all over himself.

“Impressive,” his father remarked, noting the easy entrance.

Harry grinned. “Thanks. What are we doing tonight?” he asked eagerly. He had enjoyed their past session; his father really did know a lot of useful spells.

“A curse,” Severus told him. “It wounds similar to a Muggle sword,” he explained. “'Sectumsempra' is the incantation.”

“Sectumsempra?” Harry repeated, making sure he’d gotten the pronunciation correct. His father nodded and demonstrated the precise wand movements and then nodded for Harry to give it a try on one of the sofa cushions. Harry steadied his stance and aimed, carefully following his father’s instruction, as he chanted, “Sectumsempra,” waving his wand neatly. His first several tries had less than satisfactory results, as his father ever so helpfully pointed out. Finally though, the pillow split neatly in two. Harry grinned.

“Excellent, Harry,” his father approved and Harry nodded happily. “You realize however that the spell can irreparably damage an opponent,” his father said seriously. Harry frowned.

“You can of course target less vital parts of the body to stop an opponent just as effectively…to sever a leg perhaps, though detaching a wand arm, or better yet, both arms might prove more useful,” Severus suggested thoughtfully and Harry felt all at once very ill. Harry’s sudden disquiet must have shown on his face as Severus took hold of Harry’s arm firmly and pushed him into one of his chairs; Severus sat opposite him.

He studied Harry for a moment before saying quietly, “You are preparing for battle. These are not merely exercises for sport.” Harry nodded shakily.

“I know,” he said, just as quietly. “I just don’t like thinking about it,” he explained.

Severus pursed his lips and Harry waited warily, knowing that whatever his father was going to say, he wasn’t going to like much. He was right. “You fought with Death Eaters at the ministry,” his father began and he almost sounded tentative. Harry tensed. “Of course I do understand how unthinkable the idea is to you, but the struggle would have ended much sooner had any one of you employed such a curse.” His father paused and then added, sounding weary, “In reality Harry, it is astonishing that all of you managed to escape with your lives.”

Harry’s teeth clamped together as Sirius’ face floated in his mind. Forcing the image away and easing his storm to calm again, Harry shook his head. He knew his father wasn’t trying to bring up painful memories; he had a point. But, Harry didn’t think he could do it nonetheless.

“If I start aiming to kill, I’m just as bad as they are,” he said, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. He didn’t know why it mattered anyway…he was already going to have kill Voldemort.

It was Severus’ turn to shake his dark head. “I am not necessarily asking that of you, which is why I explained how to use that particular curse to disable your opponent, rather than to kill him…if possible. However, it is not a sound battle tactic to continue to allow your enemy to continually come back for you.” When Harry didn’t answer, Severus pressed, “Would you ask your friends to forfeit their lives to allow a Death Eater to live?”

Harry stared at his father, as terrible visions of masked Death Eaters, surrounding his friends, danced morbidly in front of his vision. “No,” he said firmly, no trace of indecision in his voice. He’d be daft to wish something like that.

"Then neither should you ask that of yourself.” It took another moment for that to sink in but as it did, Harry nodded. He didn’t know how well he would fare if he actually did have to do such harm to someone, but his father was right. All of them were going to be fighting for their lives. This was no time to be squeamish.

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The common room was brimming with excited Gryffindors when Harry stepped through the portrait hole a couple hours later. Ron waved him over to a loud group of sixth years.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked curiously.

“We’re going to have a dance!” Parvati gushed; Ron rolled his eyes but he nodded at Harry’s query for a confirmation.

“On Halloween,” Hermione stressed, opening her brown eyes wider as though trying to make a point. Harry shrugged as though to say, 'So?'. Hermione blew out a frustrated breath.

Ignoring Hermione, Harry asked Ron, “Where’s Ginny?” And on cue, Ginny came through the portrait with two of her bunkmates. She spotted Harry immediately and came over, grinning.

“Did you hear about the dance, Harry?” she asked.

“On Halloween,” Hermione pointed out again, leaning forward a bit in her seat and Ginny nodded.

Hermione stood up, sighing. “Let’s go find a spot a bit less crowded, shall we?” she asked, her voice falsely inviting. Ron shrugged, apparently not noticing and followed along after Hermione.

Ginny and Harry exchanged looks and followed their bushy-haired friend to a secluded corner. As soon as they were sitting, Hermione chanted a quick silencing spell around the four of them and then looked at her friends expectantly.

“What is it, Hermione?” Harry asked, wishing she hadn’t put up that spell. He really didn’t want to get into any more arguments with his father.

“Don’t you think it’s a bid odd to have a dance on Halloween?” Hermione demanded.

“Why?” Ron asked, looking just as confused as Harry felt. Hermione sighed again.

“We’ve never had one, have we?” she demanded. “Don’t you see? Halloween,” she said, beginning to sound like she had put an Echoing Charm on herself.

And Harry, all at once got it. “Voldemort,” he and Ginny breathed in chorus.

Hermione nodded. “Voldemort probably has something planned for that night and the Headmaster is trying to make sure all of us are in one place…to keep on eye on us.”

“It’ll be fifteen years from the day he killed my mum and James,” Harry concluded unhappily. “And if he has something planned, then…” There really was no point in finishing that sentence, especially as Ginny was gripping his hand, applying gentle pressure, but Harry barely felt it. His mind was spinning around all the nightmarish possibilities that might be waiting.

The quartet sat in silence for a long time after that, effectively ending any need for Hermione’s privacy spell.

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

Harry. Harry Potter. It’s been too long, Harry.

Voldemort! Harry’s mind screamed at him from his dreams. Even as he slept, Harry felt the almost instinctual urge to strengthen his shield and with a determined push, his Dementor Storm was as solid and course as he could make it. He felt the caressing persuasion of Voldemort’s presence against his shield as the dark wizard sampled his open thoughts until with a roar of silent wind, Harry shoved back. A violent curse and Harry was alone again.

With a sickening tug, Harry shot up in his bed; he could feel his scar searing smartly for a brief second and then just as swiftly as the pain had come, it burned low again to a dull ache and then there was nothing. Reaching a clammy hand up to wipe it across his brow, Harry sagged against his headboard and tried to breathe deeply, willing his heart rate to settle.

He’d been dreaming, but that voice, that presence in his mind had definitely been Voldemort. Severus hadn’t said anything about any sort of Death Eater meeting tonight, but with his heart hammering again, Harry realized that Voldemort could have called his father any time in the intervening hours since he’d seen him during their lesson.

Directing his thoughts to calm, Harry got quickly out of bed and went over to Ron’s bed, lighting his wand tip as he went. His friend was snoring lightly; Harry shook his arm. Ron’s eyes popped open, his eyes immediately clearing of any vestiges of sleep when he saw Harry. “Harry? You all right?” he demanded, pushing himself up, reaching automatically for his wand.

“Shh,” Harry ordered, stilling Ron’s movements. “My scar is acting up again…I’m going to see him.” Him had taken on the role of code name for Harry’s father.

Ron, still looking very concerned, asked Harry, “Do you want me to come with you?”

Harry shook his head. “I just wanted you to know so that you wouldn’t panic later,” he whispered. Ron nodded and Harry thumped him on the shoulder before turning to his trunk. Ron watched him as pulled his cloak and his little box of Floo powder out, and even had enough presence of mind to pull on some socks. With a little wave to his friend, Harry wrapped the cloak around himself and went downstairs to the common room.

Harry used a spell his father had taught him to make sure no one else was in the room; it was empty. He stepped into the fireplace and threw down the Powder, calling quietly for his father’s rooms. Harry pulled the cloak off as he stepped into his father's sitting room and an instant later, before he could protest, Severus was grabbing him roughly around his upper arm, his wand pointing straight at him, demanding, “What is my shield?”

Completely unprepared for such an inhospitable reception, Harry asked stupidly, “What?"

"What form does my shield take?" Severus repeated harshly, shaking Harry a little.

Harry's heart was racing as he stammered, "F-Flames, sir,” and his father brought his wand down abruptly.

And then his father was taking hold of his other arm and stuffing him unceremoniously into one of the chairs. Severus, still holding on tightly to Harry’s arms, crouched down and demanded, “Are you all right?”

“I-I-Yes, sir…I’m all right, sir.” Severus, crouching, was a very strange sight.

His father held onto Harry’s arms a moment longer as though to be sure Harry was telling the truth and then he dropped his hands and called quietly, “Accio, blanket,” and a dark blue blanket flew from the direction of where Harry assumed Severus’ bedroom was. His father put the blanket around him and only then did Harry notice that he was shivering; he didn’t think it was from the cold.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, grateful for the warmth as he gripped the blanket closer to his chest, trying to still his shaking. Nervously he asked, “Can anybody just Floo in here?”

His father shook his head. “No. The Floo is closed to all but a few of the other staff and you...your friends now as well. I simply overreacted. I apologize,” he added stiffly. And then, changing his tone to one that was a bit firmer, Severus asked, “What happened?”

Harry swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in here.”

His father shook his head, impatiently it seemed. “It is of no consequence. Tell me what happened,” he ordered, his tone hardening even further.

“It’s just my scar,” Harry explained.

“Your scar?” his father repeated, his fingers straying toward the mark in question, but then fell back against the arm of the chair. “Is it hurting you?” he asked quickly, the concern showing clearly in his dark eyes.

Harry shrugged. “Just twinging, really.” He hesitated, worried about his father’s reaction. “I was sleeping and it seemed like I was dreaming but I think maybe it was Voldemort. I could hear him, just a bit…but I could also feel him too. I thought maybe there was a Death Eater meeting tonight,” he finished, rather lamely he thought. It was obvious that his father was fine.

Severus’ lips pressed together and for a brief moment, Harry was sure his father was going to snap at him for letting his defenses down. “I had my shields up. He couldn’t find anything,” Harry assured him quickly. His father frowned.

“It is not your fault, Harry,” Severus told him, patting his knee distractedly. Harry stared at the large hand on his knee. His father didn’t move it as he continued, “It is to be expected,” and Harry looked back up.

“What do you mean?” he asked curiously. How could his father have expected this?

Severus stood up abruptly, staring down at Harry and as Harry lifted his neck to stare up at his father, he realized how very tall the man was. He didn’t think he’d really noticed it recently.

“There is a Death Eater meeting planned for Halloween,” Severus said eventually, sounding very reserved.

Harry nodded. “I thought so.” His father looked surprised. “That’s why we’re having a dance that night, right…to make sure everyone is together and safe?” Harry concluded and his father narrowed his eyes in what seemed like suspicion.

“Well deduced,” his father commended.

Harry shrugged again. “Well, it is rather strange, isn’t it, to have a dance on a Thursday night?” Harry asked. “We’ve never had one on Halloween. It was the logical conclusion…and it was Hermione’s anyway,” he added with a small smile.

Severus sat very carefully in the chair across from Harry. “You’ve asked Ms. Weasley to accompany you to the dance?” his father inquired in a conversational tone; it didn’t really match Severus, Harry decided and he thought it a strange transition from the topic of Death Eater meetings.

But he smiled anyway. “I didn’t ask her formally but yeah, I will.” They hadn’t really had much time to discuss frivolities earlier.

“And have you something appropriate to wear?” Harry’s smile faltered; he stared at Severus. He sounded exactly like Mrs. Weasley.

“Erm, yeah, I guess,” Harry nodded slowly, feeling oddly uncomfortable with his father’s question.

Severus studied him. Harry squirmed under his gaze. “I was under the impression that those Muggles did not buy you clothes.” Harry flushed. Severus leaned forward and Harry tried hard to sit very still. “Is that in fact the case?” his father asked.

“Er…well, I just had Dudley’s old things,” Harry shrugged, attempting to keep the movement unconcerned.

“And the clothes you are wearing now…your robes?” his father pressed and Harry shrugged again.

“I always get a few things in Diagon Alley, usually with the Weasleys,” he answered quickly, hoping to end this awkward conversation as soon as possible, but his father only nodded briefly and leaned forward even further.

“Harry,” he said intently, his eyes slightly narrowed and his jaw firm, as though preparing himself for something terrible, “did they ever hurt you?”

If possible, Harry flushed deeper. When he didn’t answer right away, Severus pulled himself straighter, his fists clenching quickly on his knees so Harry shook his head wildly, stammering, “No, they didn’t…well, not really…I mean Dudley did and Uncle Vernon, well he threatened to and maybe when I little, once or twice, he whacked at me, but…” Harry trailed off, looking down at his hands, which were, just like his father’s, firmed tightly into fists. “Look, I’m fine, all right?” Harry finally said gruffly, his eyes still down, not wanting to see his father’s face.

“You are not fine, Harry,” his father said quietly. Harry looked up, confusion written all over his features. Severus’ eyes were haunted by now, and Harry was beginning to feel ill. And then, despite the look of utter pain in his eyes, Severus was leaning forward, his face again intense. “You realize, Harry that none of what happened to you was your fault? That no child should be treated in such a manner?”

Harry nodded, not wanting to speak. His father considered him for a moment longer before saying crisply, “I believe it is past time that you had a more complete wardrobe.” Harry couldn’t help it; he stared. “I will see to it,” his father said with a quick nod, almost to himself.

“But, I can’t go anywhere,” Harry protested lamely.

“We can order clothes, just as well as a taking a trip to Hogsmeade,” his father informed him easily.

Harry shifted, uneasy with this whole topic, but his desire to end the conversation outweighed his wish to leave Severus out of any sort discussion about his clothing. “Erm, all right I guess. I don’t know how to access my vault from here though. I have my key,” Harry told his father but Severus shook his head, his eyes glinting in quick amusement.

“I did not intend for you to pay for it, Harry.”

Harry paled a bit. “Uh, no, that’s all right, sir. I don’t mind,” he rushed out quickly.

And again, his father was studying him. “You may not realize this of course, Harry, but it is not common for children, especially Wizarding children to buy anything as essential as clothing for themselves. I can buy anything you might need,” he said seriously.

Harry felt his temper rising a bit, but modulated it quickly. “Of course I realize that,” he answered, with only a shade of heat in his tone. “What did you expect me to do? Come to Hogwarts in Dudley’s old rags?” he asked, more sarcastically than he was planning.

“No,” his father answered calmly and Harry was unnerved by his apparent inability to rile the man up enough to snap at him for being rude. “You do have another option now though.”

“James’ money is perfectly fine,” Harry said firmly, his tone much harder now as he began to feel his annoyance stoking his temper. “Or are you still feeling jealous over him?” Harry asked callously as he glared at his father, folding his arms across his chest defiantly.

Harry watched in satisfaction as Severus’ jaw stiffened. And then his father’s eyes narrowed slightly, though Harry didn’t think he could detect any anger in the dark eyes, only determination and Harry felt even more unsettled.

“I will assume you intended your question merely as an insult and are therefore not expecting a response,” his father said evenly, not so much as a hint of anger in his voice, only quiet resolve and Harry had to look away, his insides prickling suddenly.

Harry stared at his knees, trying to still the strange feelings churning inside him …remorse maybe…or more likely shame. He didn’t even know what had made him want to say that. “Sorry,” he said quietly, still not looking at his father as his insides distorted painfully with his regret.

Severus’ voice was very soft when he spoke again, “James had no other family and he left that vault freely to you. I have no qualms now with his choice, nor did I then. None of us however, ever had any intention of your having to use it for living expenses, I assure you.” When Harry couldn’t do anything better than stare at his hands, his father said quietly, “I want to take care of you.”

Harry looked up quickly, seeking his father’s eyes and there it was, waiting for him, that warmth. “Okay,” Harry answered shakily and his father, looking satisfied, nodded.

“You should know as well,” Severus said, his voice changing to a more business-like tone, “my own vault will be yours. Due to current circumstances, a change cannot be publicly acknowledged right now. I have however, given the Goblins at Gringotts a letter, one that cannot be opened until my will is activated. It states that everything I possess is to be passed on to you.”

There was something off in his father’s voice; Harry could hear it. “Why are you telling me this now?” he asked, trying to keep the suspicion from his voice but as his father shifted slightly in his seat, Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” and then as Hermione’s words came back to him, he demanded, “This is about Halloween isn’t it?” his voice rising a bit in apprehension.

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

Severus studied his son before answering, “The Dark Lord is getting desperate to find you, Harry.” Harry nodded jerkily. Severus almost sighed at the easy acceptance of his words.

“He will be most displeased when you are not delivered to him.” Severus was doing his best to speak slowly, with measured words, his voice utterly calm. It wasn’t working; Harry’s fingers flexed around the blanket.

“He’ll torture you, then?” Harry asked stiffly.

Severus kept his face very still as he answered, “It will be unavoidable.” Severus wanted to close his eyes so he didn’t have to see Lily’s frantic worry echoed in their son’s face.

“How bad will it be?” Harry asked bluntly.

Severus looked away. How could he answer that? “Harry-” he tried, but Harry smashed his fists into his knees, sitting up straighter.

“How bad?” he repeated angrily.

In response to Severus’ silence, Harry’s eyebrows shot into his fringe. “That’s why you wanted me to know what to expect when your will is opened?” his son demanded hoarsely, pushing himself to his feet, throwing the blanket to the floor in an angry swipe that would have been more appropriate from a three year old. Harry glared at Severus.

Forcing himself to stay seated, so as not to further alarm the boy, Severus said calmly, “It is prudent for you to be aware of any stipulations.”

Harry stared at him in open disbelief. “You’re supposed to be a Slytherin?” he asked incredulously. “That’s the worst half-truth I’ve ever heard!” he announced furiously.

Severus raised a brow and though he knew exactly what Harry meant, he asked anyway, “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re sitting there, calm as you please, telling me to plan for your death!” Harry scathed, throwing his hands up into the air.

Severus shook his head. “I am doing no such thing,” he denied placidly, but Harry was apparently past the ability to be so easily appeased. His son’s face was absolutely rigid, his jaw clenched so forcefully that Severus was afraid the bones might crack.

“That’s right, you’re not,” Harry snapped and Severus couldn’t help the way his own eyebrows rose in surprise. “Because you’re not going to die,” Harry continued furiously and when Severus opened his mouth to try to soothe Harry’s obviously frayed nerves, his son insisted firmly, “You’re not.”

“Harry-”

“No," Harry commanded, trying to sound firm but failing as his voice wobbled. He pulled himself straighter and it was clear he was Occluding his mind. "Promise me,” Harry finally ordered fiercely, his green eyes a bit wild with panic.

Severus, keeping his movements carefully slow, stood up to face his son. Putting a hand on one of Harry’s shoulders, he tried to reason, “Harry, you know I cannot promise that,” but Harry just shook himself away from Severus’ grip.

“Just promise,” he ordered stubbornly, folding his arm across his chest. "You’re not going to die,” he insisted.

Severus sighed. Harry was being perfectly irrational. But Harry was glaring at him and Severus recognized that it was not likely that his son would give in until the childish pledge was given and he did in fact have a point; a defeatist attitude would not be helpful to his situation.

“All right,” Severus agreed, just hoping Harry understood this might not be a promise he could keep. But as soon as he said it, Severus regretted it, for Harry’s posture instantly relaxed.

“Good,” his son said forcefully, nodding once, before letting his arms drop back to his sides. “Good,” he affirmed again.

“Harry…”

“No,” Harry refused, shaking his head. “You already said it,” he informed Severus, his voice still trembling slightly and again, the Potions Master saw the frightened child in his son’s stance and he couldn’t help but nod. Severus couldn’t deny Harry this measure of reassurance; he would simply have to make sure he kept his promise.

Harry was watching Severus very carefully, his eyes narrowed almost to slits, as though he was assessing the man’s integrity. Hoping to further assuage his son’s fears, Severus offered, “It is only a few more hours until you need to be up for classes. You may remain here if you wish.”

Harry’s eyes brightened a bit though he didn’t lose the nervous expression. He nodded quickly. Then he stooped down and pulled the blanket from the floor, clutching it to him as he had James’ cloak in the common room.

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

Harry pulled his father’s blanket to his chest, remembering with embarrassment that he’d thrown it to the floor like a child having a tantrum. He was acting like a bloody baby. “Do you have an extra pillow?” Harry asked tentatively, forcing his worry down. Severus pursed his lips.

“Come with me,” his father said and though confused, Harry obeyed, turning to follow Severus as he went through the doorway and down a short corridor. They stopped when they reached two doors, across from one another.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Harry protested immediately; there was no way he was going to kick his father out of his own bed. But Severus shook his head. He opened the door on the right, uttering a quick spell to brighten the room.

It was a small room with a bed, a little table, a chair and a bureau. There was a woven rug on the floor. On the table was his mum’s photo album. Without thinking, Harry strode over to the book, letting the blanket fall from his fingers; it floated to the floor.

Harry picked the album up gently, running his fingers lightly over the binding and then stopped to examine it more closely. He hadn’t noticed the gold embossing before. Harry turned the book a bit to read the lettered script. Snape. Harry’s eyes flicked sharply up to his father.

Severus’ face was blank as he answered Harry’s unspoken question. “Legally of course, your mother was Lily Potter, but…she considered herself Lily Snape.” The name was spoken so softly, Harry could hardly hear it.

Eyes down as he traced his finger along the letters, Harry asked casually, “And did she consider me…”

“Harry Snape, yes,” his father affirmed, his black eyes glinting in the soft light and Harry studied the album cover carefully, the name etching itself in his mind, Harry Snape.

“She called you that often…most especially when you were getting into mischief.” Harry’s eyes flew up again and his father’s mirth was unmistakable. “It was a habit of yours, even back then,” his father informed him seriously and Harry grinned.

“You can’t blame me anymore…they’re your genes,” he smirked.

“Mmm…Perhaps we switched a few more of James’ genes with mine then we meant to,” his father said mildly. Harry stared at his father. His stomach twinged again as he remembered his earlier jibe about James. Severus gestured toward the album, which without realizing it, Harry had pulled into his chest. “It is yours. You will have to keep it here of course.”

Of course. Harry nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Severus nodded and then added with a strange little wave of his fingers, “You may sleep here.” Harry nodded again. Well, that was nice of his father to offer him the guest room though if did seem a bit odd that a Professor would have a quest room in his quarters.

“Do you have guests often?” he asked his father curiously.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I have never had a guest,” his father answered. At Harry’s look of confusion, his elaborated, “This used to be my office.” Well that didn’t make any more sense, Harry thought as he continued to stare at his father.

His father made a small noise in his throat. “It is for you.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “For me?” he croaked.

Severus seemed to be shrugging though his shoulders didn’t move at all. “After you slept here when Lupin was injured, I thought perhaps…you might like a more comfortable option…in the event that you might wish to sleep here again.” Harry smiled at his father’s nervous near-rambling.

“I’d like that,” Harry said sincerely, his chest filling with warmth, “Thank you.” He just managed to keep the sir off the end of that one.

Severus inclined his head. “My room is across the hall, should you need anything,” he told Harry, his voice perfectly calm again.

Still clutching the photo album to his chest, Harry sat gingerly on the bed…his bed, bouncing lightly on it, testing out the firmness. His father was watching him in amusement. Harry grinned and shifted himself backward so that he was sitting in the middle of the bed, his ankles dangling off the edge.

“The photos will still be here when you wake up; there is no need to take them to bed with you,” Severus told him, looking at the album pointedly, though his tone was light.

“Right,” Harry said sheepishly, and placed the book carefully on the little table beside the bed.

His father bent down and picked up the forgotten blanket to hold it between his fingers. He gestured with his other hand toward the pillow. “Do you usually sleep sitting up?” his father inquired, with his familiar teasing cadence.

Harry blinked. Was his father going to tuck him in? Wanting both to protest that he was sixteen, for Merlin’s sake, and actually ask his father to tuck him in, Harry said nothing. He pulled his socks off quickly and pushed himself fully onto the bed. He undid the coverings and pulled them over his lap, keeping his fingers curled around the bunch of the fabric.

His father was watching him. Severus looked pointedly at the pillow. Harry obediently lay down, his head falling into the pillow. With a satisfied nod, his father sort of flung the blanket over Harry with a quick movement, though surely it wouldn’t be cold enough for two blankets. Severus held out a long-fingered hand. “Glasses,” he directed and Harry slipped them from his face, folded them neatly and handed them over wordlessly. His father placed them carefully on top of Harry’s album and then stepped back from the bed.

Again the little nod. “Good night, Harry,” he said, sounding somehow smug.

“Good night,” Harry answered quickly.

With a quiet word, the lights were spelled down, almost completely though Severus left a soft glow against the walls. Like a Muggle night-light Harry realized, with amazed humor as he watched his father turning swiftly from the room. Severus left the door open a crack, and Harry couldn’t still the delighted smile that blossomed on his face.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure, but it seemed that his father had tucked him in, or at least had engaged in some sort of bedtime ritual, and had been quite pleased with himself to boot. Harry looked around the small room, marveling at the thought that this was his. Then with a shudder, he remembered why he was in here at all tonight.

Halloween was too soon and Harry didn’t want to think of his father with Voldemort, especially a vindictively sadistic Voldemort. But his father had promised; it would be just like all the other Death Eater Meetings. Unpleasant…but his father would be all right. He promised he would be. Harry nodded firmly to himself as he snuggled underneath the covers.

1996

"Sev, can you clean Harry's face?" Lily asked, as she waved her wand to move the dirty dishes to the sink.

Severus shook his head in amusement; his little boy's face was covered in sticky remnants of his half-eaten dinner. Severus flicked his wand to vanish all traces of the meal. Harry reached his stubby arms up toward Severus.

"Up," he demanded and Severus complied, pulling the clean child against his chest. Harry smiled at him.

"Come on, Harry," James said enthusiastically as he pushed back from the table, "let's go draw you a bath." Harry clapped his hands, wiggling a bit in his father's arms, his own excitement matching James'.

"James, sometimes I think you enjoy Harry's bath time more than he does," Lily said with a laugh as she cast a quick charm to begin scrubbing the dishes.

"I do not," James disagreed with a frown. Then he turned to Severus and said impatiently, "Come on, Severus. Harry's waiting!"

Severus raised a brow. And then his face stiffened as the Dark Mark tingled against his skin. Lily understood instantly.

"The Mark?" she asked, holding her arms out for Harry. Severus nodded and bent his head to kiss the top of his son's head before handing the little boy over to his wife. James had already moved to stand next to Lily. Severus took a quick step toward Lily as well; she reached out with her free arm to pull Severus close.

"Be careful, Sev," came the cold, almost inhuman voice and Severus reared back in shock.

Voldemort smiled his thin-lipped smile. His dark red eyes glinted as he pulled a struggling sixteen year-old Harry from underneath his robes. Harry was shaking, his green eyes wide with terror.

"Promise you'll save me!" Harry pleaded with him and as Severus watched in horror, Harry's features distorted around the emerald eyes as they dulled, until Lily was staring blindly up at him.

"No," Severus breathed. But the eyes paid no attention; the face twisted until it became his son again, the eyes glazed and unseeing as Voldemort shrieked with laughter.

"No," Severus moaned, forcing himself back to consciousness. Immediately, he checked his shields. They were as strong as ever but Severus still felt panic constricting his chest. He threw himself out of bed and not even pausing to put on his dressing gown, crossed the hall to his son's room in mere seconds. The door was ajar, exactly as he'd left it and the room was still dark. Severus stepped inside.

Harry was curled up contentedly on his new bed.

Safe.

Severus relaxed as he moved forward into the room. His lips curled slightly as he saw that Harry's blankets were tangled up near his feet. Moving quietly, Severus stepped closer to the bed and pulled the sheet and blanket back up to Harry's shoulder.

He gazed at his son for a moment longer, listening to the sounds of his even breathing before reaching out to stroke a hand over Harry's dark hair, and the contact eased the rest of Severus' tension. Satisfied, he turned away. He left the door open once more and cast a Tempus Charm. Only two hours had passed since he'd left Harry in his room.

Not wanting to attempt sleep again, Severus went back to his room to dress and then headed toward his lab. Chanting a quick charm to alert him when three hours had passed, Severus began crushing several delicate Fairy Wings. As he listened to the steady rhythm of the pestle while he hammered with precision into the stone bowl, Severus began the familiar debate.

It had been years since he'd had a nightmare; it had taken considerable effort to distance himself from the horrors he'd participated in while pretending to be in the Dark Lord's service. But this nightmare wasn't about anything he had done; it was solely about his anxiety concerning Harry, and he recognized his worry was heightening with each passing day. The dream was simply a manifestation of that worry.

Severus knew perfectly well that Albus could send someone in his stead to the Halloween meeting; Polyjuice Potion would work perfectly well for that. But that would mean entrusting someone else to help his son if the Dark Lord somehow found a way past their defenses.

But that wouldn't even be an issue if Harry stayed here in our quarters under guard, Severus argued forcefully with himself. But the practical side, the part that understood all too well the dangers of believing in one's own invincibility knew that such a course would be foolish. The Dark Lord had managed treachery more difficult that entering a Potions masters' quarters. Even Highlands Cottage, the safe house still under the Fidelius Charm, couldn't be trusted.

And so the debate ended, as it always did, with Severus' firm resolve that nothing mattered more than his son's life. Even Harry would surely see that, should something happen to Severus. Harry was better fatherless and alive, than the other option, which Severus couldn't even bring himself to think. This time, he would keep his son safe, no matter the consequences.

With a firm nod, Severus added the Crushed Fairy Wings to his bubbling Potion and watching as the boiling liquid rolled, folding the powder into its depths. Satisfied with his decision, Severus spent the next hours engrossed in his work. As soon as his allotted three hours were up, Severus cast a Stasis Charm, spelled his hands clean and went to wake his son.

When he reached Harry's door, he noted the brightened lights within and knocked twice.

"Come in," Harry invited and Severus pushed open the door as an unexpected nervousness leapt up at him. He pushed it away and stilled his features.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed with Lily's album open on his lap. He looked up when Severus came fully into the room. "Morning," his son greeted, his voice subdued.

"Good morning," Severus returned solemnly. Harry turned his gaze back to the photo. Lily was holding Harry in her arms, only hours after she had delivered him; she looked absolutely content and Severus felt a tug of grief as Harry ran his forefinger over his mother's beautiful face.

"I see her in my dreams sometimes," Harry said suddenly, his voice quiet. "The night Voldemort killed her..." he murmured and Severus' heart lurched. Harry could remember that? He stepped closer to his son, putting his hand securely on the boy's shoulder. Harry looked up; his eyes were shining. Severus applied pressure and Harry took a shuddering breath before returning to his album.

Pausing briefly to consider Harry's possible reaction, Severus moved his hand off of his son's shoulder and sat gingerly on the bed. Harry glanced over at him before sliding his eyes back to the album; Severus thought he detected a smile.

Harry turned the page. This photo was almost identical to the one previous except that Severus was in it, half-sitting on Lily's bed. They were both gazing down at the baby in Lily's arms.

"I think you're almost smiling," Harry remarked, his lips quirking fully into a smile of his own. "You must not have known James was taking it."

Severus glanced at his son with amusement. "Likely not," was his reply and Harry shook his head and turned another page.

Severus was holding a very naked, very pruney newborn Harry under the armpits; Harry's tiny body was scrunched up tightly. Severus' features softened as he remembered that first bath he'd given his son; he had been so nervous to pick up the wet, slippery bundle, that he had just kept bathing him until Lily had laughingly ordered him to just get to it.

Harry was watching him. "Do you remember that day?" he asked, his tone almost eager. Severus nodded.

"That was your first bath," he told him.

"You look kind of nervous," Harry decided as he studied the picture.

"You were slippery," Severus told him matter-of-factly. For some reason, that made Harry laugh.

"Sorry," Harry finally said as Severus stared at him, "It's just that it's a bit odd to think of you giving me a bath," he said with a shrug, still smiling.

"I, in fact, gave you the majority of your baths. Though James often assisted, as he enjoyed your toys," Severus added as he remembered the first part of his earlier dream. Changing the subject swiftly, Severus said, "Lupin will be here shortly to escort you to the Great Hall for breakfast. There is a shower at the end of the hall if you wish to use it."

Harry closed the photo album, looking reluctant. "Yeah, all right." He put the album carefully back on the table and stood up, stretching as he did. He let his arms hang down again at his side, looking particularly serious. "Thanks...for the room, I mean."

Severus' allowed his upper lip to lift slightly as he gazed at his son. "You already thanked me."

Harry shrugged. "I know."

"You're welcome, Harry," Severus said, realizing he hadn't offered the words last night and Harry seemed to relax. And then as Harry continued to gaze at him, Severus stood up and gestured toward the door. "You wished to shower," he reminded him pointedly. Harry smiled a bit and nodded. He turned toward the door and Severus followed him down the short corridor.

Severus went into the sitting room to wait for Lupin while Harry went into the washroom. Almost immediately, the Floo activated and Lupin's face was floating in the flames.

"Good morning, Severus. May I come in?" Lupin inquired. Severus nodded once. The werewolf stepped through as Harry's shower began running.

"Harry will be with you shortly," Severus told him abruptly. Lupin nodded easily. Having no interest in small talk, Severus spun around to go back into his lab.

"Tonks said she and Moody didn't have any problems at Gringotts," Lupin said to his back and closing his eyes briefly, Severus turned slowly back around, reminding himself that Lupin was Harry's friend.

"Alastor's expertise with memory modification was a considerable asset," he agreed shortly, "I suspect that is the reason Albus chose him to accompany Ms. Tonks," he said, attempting not to sneer.

Lupin smiled. "He had to work fast though. Tonks was very impressed and she's well used to Moody's many talents."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the implication in Lupin's words. "My plans have not changed," he told the other man stiffly. And then forcing himself to rid his mind of the residual feelings of jealousy toward his son's friend that were warring with his anxiety, Severus said tightly, "I would however appreciate your assurance that you will take care of Harry, should it become necessary."

"Severus, don't talk like that," Lupin objected. "You'll be all right; just as you've always been. This time will be no different," Lupin said foolishly and Severus knew Lupin was trying to lift his spirits, as if Severus was a frightened child.

"The Dark Lord is easily carried away," Severus snapped, having no patience for meaningless platitudes. "He will already be most displeased with Lucius for Draco's continued failure, and with me as well for not adequately assisting the boy."

Lupin opened his mouth, but Severus pressed on, "The possibility of battle with Aurors also poses many problems. It is pointless to pretend it is out of the realm of possibility."

"Severus, I-" Lupin whispered. Severus waved an angry hand.

"Do not feel pity for me, Lupin. All I need to know is that you will take care of Harry."

Lupin swallowed. "Of course I will, Severus," he promised shakily.

Severus nodded in satisfaction. "He will not take it well-"

"Stop it, Severus!" Lupin protested in a sudden fit of anger. "Stop acting as though there's no other choice," he ordered, his eyes hard. "You can't just give up. Harry needs you."

Severus narrowed his eyes, ignoring the pain as it seeped into his chest at Lupin's declaration. "There may very well be no other choice, Lupin," he sneered to cover his disquiet, and then his eyes widened in surprise as the werewolf roughly grabbed him by the arm.

"Then get yourself out of there at the first sign of trouble! Harry needs a father more than a spy, Severus," Lupin told him roughly as he shook him.

Severus wrenched himself from the werewolf's grasp. "He needs to stay alive," he snarled. Lupin's soft eyes flashed.

"Then let someone else take your place!" he shot back furiously. Both of them froze as they heard the water in the shower turning off. "He needs you, Severus," Lupin repeated quietly before stepping back.

Severus twisted away, his fists clenched in rage at his sides. Of course he understood that Harry would be hurt if he were not able to return. But Harry's life was worth far more than any pain he might feel with Severus' loss. If somehow, despite everything, Voldemort still managed to get Harry to that meeting...there was no one else Severus could trust to get him back. The risk to himself meant nothing to Severus.

As Severus heard his son coming down the corridor, he forced himself to calm. Harry came in with a smile but it faltered as he looked between the two men. Obviously his and Lupin's unease was readily visible.

Harry eyed them warily before asking Severus, "Is everything all right?"

Severus nodded curtly, surveying his son's pyjamas as he distracted himself from the discussion he'd just had with Lupin. "Come here," he ordered and Harry complied, moving forward to stand in front of Severus. With a quick wave, Severus' wand transfigured Harry's pyjamas into his school uniform, complete with shoes and robes.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, looking impressed. "I really need to learn how to do that," he mused.

Severus nodded seriously. "As much time as you seem to spend wandering about the castle in your night clothes, such a spell would indeed be useful."

Harry's cocked a brow at him. "I don't wander about the castle," he disagreed and as Severus lifted his own eyebrows in disbelief, he grinned. "Well, not anymore, at least," he amended. And then, he asked, "Can you teach me how to do that though?"

Severus nodded. "I will show you tomorrow," he agreed. Harry grinned and then turned to Lupin

"Ready, Remus?" he asked. Lupin nodded. Harry turned back to Severus. "I'll see you tomorrow then." As Severus inclined his head, he handed Harry his silver cloak and his little box of Floo Powder.

"Thanks," Harry said, tucking the items into his robes as he followed Lupin into the Floo.

Lupin's movements were unnaturally stiff as he threw down the powder; Harry on the other hand, looked decidedly happy as he Flooed away.

--

"That's wonderful, Harry," Hermione gushed as Harry told his friends about his new room. They were in a quiet corner of the library after dinner that night and Hermione had put up a Silencing Spell as Severus hadn't seemed to notice her other one...or at least he hadn't said anything about it.

"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed

"I wish we could see it," Ginny said with a sigh. Harry frowned.

It would be something, Harry thought, to actually have a room to invite his friends to. He'd never had anything like that before. He didn't think that his father would be particularly enthused with the idea of four teenagers in his quarters though. But then he remembered Severus' explanation about the Floo last night. His father had said the Floo would allow his friends through. Well, that was certainly interesting.

Ignoring that for the moment, as he remembered the rest of the night's conversation, Harry leaned forward. "Hermione, you were right about Halloween," he told his friend and then as she demanded details, he recounted the discussion he'd had with his father, though he didn't mention that there might be any extra danger for Severus. Hermione however, deduced it for herself.

"But Voldemort is awfully vindictive, Harry. Just think about the plan he concocted for the Malfoys. Won't he be especially angry when he can't get to you?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, but Voldemort's been angry before."

"But Harry, aren't you worried about Professor Snape?" she asked anxiously.

"Hermione!" Ginny protested with a scowl. "Of course he's worried."

Harry shook his head though. "I was pretty upset last night," he admitted. "But he said he'll be all right." Ron and Ginny nodded immediately while Hermione continued to look concerned, but as Harry has been talking, his resolve had firmed even more. Everything would be fine. After all, his father had promised and Harry had already decided that he could count on that promise.

But even so, the week dragged on for Harry, except the evenings he spent in his father's quarters; they always seemed to go by much too quickly. Harry spent most of the day Saturday with Severus as well. They used most of their time together practicing and Harry got the distinct impression that Severus was attempting to teach him every spell and curse he knew. The idea was slightly unsettling and as Halloween drew closer, Harry was starting to grow more and more nervous, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that there wasn't anything to worry about.

And by the morning of Halloween, Harry could barely think straight. Transfiguration class was a complete waste of time; McGonagall finally just told him to put his wand away as he was making everybody around him much too nervous to complete their own spells. Harry did put his wand away, but he didn't stop fidgeting.

In only hours, his father could be in front of Voldemort, surrounded by Death Eaters. Of course he knew Severus had done it dozens of times before and Harry had even had to wait through a few of those times, but this was worse. Far worse. How McGonagall thought he could do anything productive in class was utterly beyond him. And then with a silent groan, Harry realized he was going to have to go to Potions class straight after lunch.

He could just see it now. He'd be so muddled that he'd add Eye of Newt instead of Pickled Unicorn Hearts and blow up half the classroom. And that of course would produce a very annoyed Potions Professor and whether sincere or not, Harry really didn't want to make his father angry. It would be best not to go at all.

Unfortunately, Harry mused as he tried to sort it all out, Severus was likely to be as annoyed if Harry didn't even show up for class, not to mention frantic. His father was turning out to be a tad overdramatic about such things. With a sigh, Harry decided he'd just have to find a way to get through Potions.

A couple hours later, as he attempted to brew a Memory Enhancing Potion, Harry decided that McGonagall had had a point--Malfoy's nerves were so frayed that, coupled with Harry's own anxiety, it was virtually impossible for either one of them to concentrate. Harry was quite certain there wouldn't be any way he would leave this session with anything better than a zero.

Malfoy was so twitchy he kept knocking various ingredient vials over. After the fifth vial spilled out onto the table and Malfoy had cleaned it up with a growled, "Evanesco," Harry almost had an urge to pat the other boy soothingly on the back. Instead, he wordlessly added his own vial of Liquefied Toadstools into the bubbling cauldron and then groaned quietly as he noted the potion was decidedly mud-colored, instead of the glittery gold they'd been instructed to expect.

Malfoy, hearing the disgruntled sound, leaned over the cauldron and let out his own almost inaudible groan. He glanced over at Harry, their eyes locking for a brief second and Harry could almost see the sheer terror in the boy's unnaturally gray eyes. Malfoy seemed to see something in Harry's eyes as well, for he blinked in surprise. Then the moment passed and Malfoy slumped against his chair, muttering something about prats fouling up potions.

Harry kept his sigh to himself as he stirred the ruined potion, though there was really no point; he wouldn't be able to avoid losing points for Gryffindor now. He glanced toward Ron, who was stirring his own potion with careful movements, while Parkinson supervised with narrowed eyes.

Further back, Hermione, sitting by herself, was stirring her potion as well; she looked pleased with her results. After Nott had hexed Ron after the Quidditch match, Severus had said something about Hermione being much too much of an insufferable know-it-all for Nott to endure any more class sessions as her partner. Hermione, catching on immediately to the Potions master's ploy, had had a very hard time not grinning as she collected her belongings to move to a different table.

Harry caught his father's eye as he turned away from Hermione. He snapped his head around immediately, not wanting to have any reason for a faux-fight today. Malfoy was watching Harry, his gray eyes narrowed slightly. Harry ignored the Slytherin and turned back to the potion to give it fifteen more clockwise turns. When he'd finished, he took the stirring rod carefully out of the cauldron and set it down on the table. Wishing he didn't have to bring his father over to inspect their work, Harry raised his hand reluctantly.

Severus didn't even bother to nod. He came immediately to their table and frowned as soon as he caught sight of their abysmal attempt. His eyes came up quickly and swept over the two boys. Harry, with a pang, recognized the look of regret in his father's eyes.

"Unacceptable Potter. Zero," he said stonily before sweeping away, and Harry wondered if he was the only one to notice the stiffness in his father's steps.

Malfoy was absolutely silent as he gathered his belongings together, his movements even more unsteady than they'd been all throughout class, as though the impending end of the afternoon class session marked some countdown for Lucius in Malfoy's head. As he tried not to stare, Harry thought he was beginning to understand why Malfoy would have accepted Voldemort's orders; somehow even murder didn't seem so bad if it would save someone you loved.

With a start, Harry's eyes flew up to find his father, who was leaning over Dean and Zabini's cauldron. Love? Is that how he felt about Severus, he wondered, too stunned to realize he was gaping at his father.

--

Severus inspected the last cauldron of Memory Enhancing Potion. "Marginal, at best," Severus sneered to Thomas and Zabini and then straightened again to dismiss the class. Harry was staring at him, looking dazed. Severus took an involuntary step toward him before he realized where they were. He halted and turned abruptly away.

"Bottle your potions," he rapped out to the room in general. "Class dismissed," he snapped before whirling toward his desk. He sat down, glancing up only once to ensure that Harry had regained his composure. Harry was scrambling to put his ingredients in his bag, while Draco banished the contents of their cauldron and Severus' concern sharpened as he thought of their failed attempt at brewing the assigned potion. It was a clear indication of the states of mind of both boys and then Severus wondered if Draco had said something to Harry to make him gawk.

As soon as the last student had left the classroom, Severus sent the bottled potions to his storage cupboard and then left his classroom as well. He went straight to his quarters to wait for his son. They'd arranged for Lupin to bring Harry straight after class. Severus didn't know when he'd receive the call to join the Dark Lord but he had every intention of spending as much time with Harry as he could.

It was only a few minutes before the Floo flared and Lupin and Harry stepped through. Harry bit his lip as soon as he spotted Severus waiting for them and Severus wondered again what, beside the obvious, could be troubling his son.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Lupin greeted and Severus inclined his head, keeping his eyes on Harry. "I'll be waiting in my office," Lupin told them both and after a curt nod from Severus and a quiet goodbye from Harry, they were left alone.

Harry was gazing at him, as though not understanding what he was seeing.

"Did Draco say something to you?" Severus asked abruptly, finding no other explanation for Harry's reticence. But Harry shook his head.

"He was pretty quiet today," his son said. "He was really jittery...nervous about his father I guess," he added softly. Severus was surprised by the concern in Harry's voice. Concern for Draco? Certainly not for Lucius...

"Draco knows the Dark Lord will not be pleased that his task is not yet completed. Lucius has suffered greatly in the past few months," Severus explained. He saw no point in sugar-coating reality.

Harry slid his eyes away for a moment, his fingers gripping the edges of his sleeves. Severus took a step closer to his son. "What is troubling you?" he asked quietly. Harry shrugged as he looked again at Severus. His green eyes were dark...turbulent, and grief speared Severus' chest. Perhaps he should not have been quite so honest about Lucius. Severus had carefully avoided any mention of this topic throughout the past week. Harry had seemed to prefer it that way. It seemed it was past time they addressed the issue again.

Directing his son to sit on the sofa and after sitting next to him, Severus said calmly, "Harry, I have endured a significant amount of torture through the years. I will not succumb as easily as you might imagine."

Harry's knuckles whitened with the added pressure against his sleeves. "Then why did you want me to know about your will?" he asked hoarsely. Severus reached out and pulled Harry's fingers from the edges of the black fabric.

He held on as he explained, "It is unlikely that the Dark Lord's torture-" his son flinched at the word, but Severus continued, "-will do enough damage to actually kill me. He rarely kills his own." Harry's fingers contracted under his. Severus squeezed them firmly as he said, "I am concerned the Dark Lord might be angry enough to make an example of someone."

Harry jerked his hands away. "But you said-" he objected angrily.

With a quick movement, Severus closed his long fingers around Harry's wrists, stilling his convulsive movements. "I will leave if there is any danger of the Dark Lord's wrath being turned on me." As long as you are not there, he added silently, his throat closing at the thought.

"Are you certain you'll be able to?" Harry asked anxiously as he leaned forward.

Knowing he could not be certain, Severus said anyway, "I already gave you my word." In truth, the Dark Lord was not the greatest concern. That honor fell to the Ministry Aurors, if they were indeed successful in their plans to join the Death Eater's meeting tonight.

It would be difficult, as not even the Dark Lord's followers themselves knew where they would be Apparating to. But Scrimgeour and his righteous band of Aurors were a determined lot. And if there was to be a battle tonight, no matter which side Severus played on, he was certain to find curses aimed in his direction. But there was no reason to explain any of that to Harry.

Severus surveyed his son as he sat, still with his fingers grasping his son's wrists, and he found that Harry's eyes had not lost their stormy intensity. Knowing Harry would continue to dwell on this subject, Severus relinquished his hold and said lightly, "Your clothes were delivered yesterday afternoon." Harry blinked. That was another conversation they hadn't revisited.

"You ordered them?" Harry asked, sounding surprised. Severus tried not to smile.

"I did tell you I would, did I not?"

"Well, yeah...I just didn't think you'd do it so quickly," Harry said with a grin and Severus was gratified that he had seemingly accepted the idea that Severus did want to take care of his needs. "Can I see them?" Harry asked eagerly and Severus allowed a bit of a smile to find his lips. He nodded.

"They are in your room," he agreed as he stood up, enjoying the sound of the phrase as much as Harry must have, considering how his son's smile widened as he all but scrambled to his feet. Without even waiting for Severus, Harry turned toward their rooms and Severus followed, pleased with his son's excitement.

Harry stopped as soon as he saw the clothes hanging neatly in his bureau. Harry's eyes widened as he turned to Severus. "But, that's too much!" he objected. Severus shook his head.

"It is merely a complete set of clothes. It is no more than the students in Slytherin have." When Harry looked ready to object again, Severus said seriously, "I realize you are used to far less, Harry, but it is no more than you should have been given all along." Harry considered him for a minute and then went over to the bureau, fingering each item of clothing carefully.

"I will return anything you do not like," Severus told him, but Harry shook his head.

"They're nice," he said slowly. Severus tilted his head slightly to the side.

"You sound surprised," he said curiously. Harry glanced at him, his eyes twinkling, all at once losing their darkness.

"I guess I was sort of expecting you to get everything in black," he smirked, eyeing Severus' ensemble.

"I can exchange them, if you wish," Severus offered, deadpan, and Harry laughed.

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick with these."

"A wise decision," Severus agreed seriously.

"Can I take them back to the tower with me?" Harry asked, still grinning. Severus nodded.

"You will need an explanation for your dorm mates, but yes, you may. I'll teach you how to shrink them and then put them back as they are now, so that you will be able to carry them with you."

Harry agreed and Severus spent the next twenty minutes teaching Harry the same Shrinking Spell he'd used many years ago to carry Lily's superfluous amount of books during their time in school together. Once Harry had mastered the Spell and placed the now-tiny clothes in a pocket, Harry unexpectedly asked if he could re-brew the Memory Enhancing Potion.

"Then you won't have to give me a zero," he explained. Severus frowned.

"I was not going to give you a zero."

Harry looked confused. "But I fouled up the Potion."

Severus flexed his fingers against his palms. "I believe I have given you more than one unfair zero over the years," he said gruffly and Harry stiffened. Not knowing exactly why he felt a desire to bring this up, Severus said quietly, "I do not believe I ever apologized for my behavior after you entered my Pensieve."

Harry flushed. "You don't need to. I violated your privacy," he said, and Severus knew he was fighting very hard for control.

"My behavior was deplorable. I am sorry, Harry," Severus said softly. Harry swallowed.

"I know," he nodded and then his brow wrinkled in sudden confusion. "Wait...if you were trying to make sure I wouldn't see your memories, shouldn't you have put the ones with me in there as well?"

Severus almost smiled. "Had I not come in when I did, you would have been very surprised indeed," he told his son.

Harry gazed at him for a few silent seconds before saying sincerely, "Then, I wish you hadn't come in."

For more than one reason, Severus agreed, "As do I." Then he gestured toward the door, "If you still wish to brew the Memory Enhancing Potion, we should start." Harry nodded and they walked together to the lab.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Harry asked abruptly as they were setting out ingredients. Severus looked up from lighting the cauldron. His son was watching him, his lips pinched together. Severus knew Harry wished to stay here so he would know immediately when Severus returned. And since Severus did not have any desire to worry Harry further by mentioning the possibility that he would need to Floo to the Hospital Wing instead, he nodded.

"Lupin will need to stay here with you." Poppy could alert Lupin if necessary. Harry's entire body seemed to relax with Severus' answer.

"I'm sure Remus won't mind," Harry told him. No doubt, Severus thought sourly, though he kept his features carefully neutral.

The next two hours were spent in easy camaraderie as Severus instructed Harry in the best techniques to use when brewing this particular Potion. To Severus' great satisfaction, Harry listened attentively as he explained the various complexities of Liquefied Toadstools. He closely followed Severus' detailed instructions as to the proper way to chop ingredients, murmuring something about Malfoy being right as Severus demonstrated how to hold the knife. And much to Severus' pleasure, his son was a quick-learner and seemed to actually enjoy their work.

"That was sort of fun," Harry informed him after they'd bottled the finished Potion.

"You were expecting tedium?" Severus inquired as he put the ingredients away.

"Well, I don't think I've ever actually enjoyed brewing a Potion," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"Perhaps you simply needed better instruction," Severus suggested lightly as he tidied up the tables.

Harry shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Severus quickly turned the subject to the details of the rest of the night, knowing it was almost time for Harry to leave to get ready for the dance. "Ms. Tonks will end her Disillusionment Charm shortly and she and Lupin will escort you and your friends to the Great Hall," he reminded his son.

Harry nodded, his eyes beginning to cloud over again as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, Severus guessed. "You'll be all right, yeah?" Harry asked, only a bit of a tremor in the question as he gazed intently at Severus. Severus nodded. Harry bit his lip before asking timidly, "If I'm asleep when you get back, will you wake me?"

Severus nodded obediently. "I will." The assurance didn't help to relax Harry's tension. "I will be fine," Severus added quickly, not even caring this time that it might be a lie.

1996

"I will be fine," Severus told him calmly.

Harry stared at his father, his lower lip wedged painfully between his teeth. Since he'd stepped out of his father's Floo, he had wanted to blurt out what he'd only just discovered this afternoon. He wanted to say it now, but his throat felt as though he would never use it again, and his mouth was absolutely dry.

It sounded too final, and Harry didn't want anything about this night to be final. For the first time in his life, Harry had somebody that was his. As much as he'd loved Sirius, this was different. Severus was here, had been here when Harry had needed him. The thought of losing him now... Well, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to bear it. Not this time. He loved him, and more than anything... right now, he needed to say it.

His father was watching him, his eyes shadowed, and Harry's anxiety almost wouldn't allow him to speak. Clearing his thoughts and ordering his storm to gentle, Harry took a deep breath. "I need you to know something before you go," he told his father shakily. Severus nodded immediately, and Harry felt another rush of love for the man's easy acceptance of everything that had happened between them... his father's acceptance of him.

"I didn't realize it before..." Harry began slowly, "not until I watched Malfoy today. I understood why he would agree to anything Voldemort asked... He loves Lucius."

Harry looked away from his father's obsidian gaze. Gathering his courage about him, Harry found his father's eyes again, which were waiting patiently, and Harry relaxed. "Just like I love you," he finished, surprised at how steady the words sounded.

The black eyes softened with warmth. Severus stepped toward Harry. His fingers curled as they reached out, and then, he was gently brushing Harry's errant fringe aside. Harry's eyes prickled with the familiar touch.

His father's hand kept moving until he was cupping the back of Harry's head. Not even waiting for his father to complete the motion, Harry leaned forward so that his forehead was resting against the soft robes. He listened to the deep rumble of his father's chest as Severus said quietly, "Albus used to tell me that you had an incredible capacity to love. I do not deserve it, but I am grateful for it, nonetheless."

Harry didn't even try to respond. He was well past the ability to push through the emotions in his chest. He simply stayed against his father's robes, allowing the scent of cloves to soothe him.

--

Harry was trying to enjoy himself, he really was, but his thoughts were stuck firmly with his father, and he wondered again if the Dark Mark had burned, yet. He knew perfectly well that it had been better that he'd come here and left his father to his solitude; Severus' mind would be much clearer if he was alone when Voldemort called his followers. But even though he knew it, Harry still wished he was back in his father's quarters.

At least, the other Gryffindors were having fun, Harry thought gloomily as he watched the students moving lithely to the raucous music. Well, not all the Gryffindors, he corrected as he watched Ron and Hermione swaying slightly with the rhythm. It was easy to tell that their hearts just weren't in it. Ron kept looking around anxiously as though he expected Death Eaters to come flying at them at any second.

Shacklebolt and Moody had already removed the seventh-year Slytherin threat; the three students were being held under guard of several Order members. Illegally, of course, but that didn't seem to concern any of the adults, who assured Harry that the Ministry Aurors would want them in their custody before long. Preemptive strike, Tonks had told him cheerfully. Harry hadn't argued.

Ginny was leaning up against him, her head tucked under Harry's chin. His arms tightened around her as he thought of the Slytherins, and he wished for the hundredth time that both she and Ron had taken their mother up on her plan to remove them from Hogwarts. Hermione, too, he amended as he glanced over to his bushy-haired friend. She, at least, seemed more at ease than her ginger-haired escort. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen his friend so jumpy. He was worse than Malfoy.

At the thought of Malfoy, Harry's eyes reflexively scanned the crowd. He saw the blond Slytherin dancing with Parkinson. She was smiling happily while Malfoy looked about to sick up. Harry felt another surge of... concern, he supposed he would call it, for Malfoy. With a sigh, he moved his eyes from the other boy and then froze as he spotted Shacklebolt, just coming through the doors to the Great Hall.

--

Severus put his fingers automatically over his left arm as he felt the slight burn of the Dark Lord's call. He cast a careful Stasis Charm over his cauldron and moved with calm steps toward the fireplace. He closed his mind with slow precision, and when he was satisfied, he reached for the box of Floo powder on the mantle. Using just a bit of the green, glittery grains, Severus called for Albus' office.

He looked out into the headmaster's office. Albus looked up, his blue eyes dark.

"It is time," Severus informed him, his voice void of emotion.

Albus nodded, and Severus saw nothing but acceptance in the old man's face. "Take care of yourself, Severus."

Severus nodded automatically and pulled his head back into his quarters. Without hesitation, he stepped fully into the fireplace and threw down another small pinch of powder. He watched, without interest, as the rooms flashed by. When he saw Lucius' parlor, he stepped carefully through the flames.

--

Shacklebolt moved swiftly through the throng of students. Harry's heart seized. Shacklebolt stopped when he reached McGonagall, and McGonagall smiled somewhat grimly. Shacklebolt turned away again and melted back into the crowd.

McGonagall started moving forward, toward Harry and Ginny. Remus and Tonks both stiffened. Ginny pulled back from Harry's chest. Harry closed his eyes briefly and shored up his shields, preparing himself for whatever the professor had to say.

McGonagall didn't waste any time. "They've captured half a dozen Death Eaters," she informed them in clipped tones. Turning to Tonks, she said curtly, "Nymphadora, Shacklebolt needs your assistance."

Tonks didn't even react to her hated given name. She simply quickly squeezed Remus' hand before she began weaving herself among the dancing students to catch up to Shacklebolt.

"They got through, then?" Remus asked intently, but McGonagall shook her head.

"The Aurors ambushed them in Hogsmeade, as soon as they Apparated in."

Remus looked relieved, though Harry's heart had begun to beat faster as he listened. Voldemort would realize, all too soon, that he had failed. And someone would have to pay for the mistakes of the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade.

"They've already begun questioning them. The Slytherins have been indicated, just as Severus said they would be."

Harry felt a tremor run through his body at the mention of his father's name. Nobody, except Ginny, seemed to notice. She put her arm around Harry's waist and drew him to her.

"Professor Lupin," Harry heard Ginny saying, and then, Remus was standing in front of him.

"Harry," Remus said gently, "I'll take you back to your father's quarters."

Harry nodded, not really listening. He felt Ginny's small hand in his. She tugged a bit, and they began walking forward. He was vaguely aware that Ron and Hermione were trailing behind them. And he could feel Remus' steady presence beside him, as well.

Each step through the corridors was pounded cruelly into Harry's skull. By the time they reached Dumbledore's office, his temples were aching with the force of his fear.

"Harry," the headmaster greeted quietly as soon as they entered the round office. "How are you doing, my boy?" he inquired, sounding very kind.

Harry, almost numb by this point, could only shrug. Dumbledore seemed to understand. He patted Harry lightly on the shoulder.

"Harry," Ginny whispered. Harry's eyes found their focus again as Ginny moved in front of him. "It's going to be all right," she soothed him, and again, he could only nod. Ginny kissed him gently on his cheek, still holding on to his hands.

And then, he heard McGonagall's sharp order for his three friends to, 'come along'. They followed her out of the office, and Harry wondered pointlessly where Moody had come from as he watched the grizzled ex-Auror stumping along behind the Gryffindors.

"Ready, Harry?" Remus was asking, and Harry turned as though under the Imperius Curse and followed his friend into the Floo. Harry thought he probably should have been surprised that Dumbledore stepped in with them, but he didn't think he was really feeling much of anything, right then.

Harry watched as the rooms whizzed past them on their way to his father's sitting room, not having any idea where he was supposed to get out. He was sure he must have felt some gratitude toward Remus, or perhaps Dumbledore, as he actually managed to step out into the familiar sitting room, smiling slightly as he recognized his mother's sofa.

"That was my mother's, you know, Remus," he told his friend.

Strange, he mused...,His voice sounded... strange.

"Sleeping Draught... in bed... gently..."

Harry heard the words, but didn't really understand them, and he saw no reason to protest as something was pressed up to his lips. He obediently opened his mouth and sucked back the slightly foul liquid. Harry felt himself beginning to fade, and as the room grew dimmer, he hoped briefly that his father wouldn't mind that he had fallen asleep in Remus' arms.

--

Lucius and Narcissa were waiting. Lucius' face was a sea of tranquil calm while Narcissa stood by his side, wringing her hands.

"Everything is prepared?" Lucius asked serenely.

"It is," Severus answered blandly. Without sparing a glance for his wife, Lucius nodded and stepped forward. Severus pivoted on his heel, and the two of them were moving forward together, their boots clicking on the hard stone floor as they marched out into the night.

Together, they turned on the spot.

Distortion flowed into reality as they appeared in the Dark Lord's large circle. It had grown since the last time Severus had stood here. He watched without interest as the last few Death Eaters materialized into the bleak gathering. The night was empty, void of sound. Even the breaths of those assembled were silent.

The Dark Lord turned his crimson gaze around the circle of Death Eaters. "My followers have failed me, once again," he informed them coldly, and a shudder ran through the assemblage, but Severus felt himself relax at the Dark Lord's words.

Harry was safe, his buried thoughts whispered amongst themselves. He readied himself as he watched the Dark Lord, just as he'd promised his son he would. The Dark Lord looked particularly malicious.

"It is a pity, really," the Dark Lord intoned, his disgustingly vacant lips twisting into a smile of mockery. "I had so hoped your son could join us, Severus."

Paying no attention to the shock of Voldemort's words, Severus reached for his wand. And then, he went completely rigid as his wand flew into Voldemort's outstretched fingers. Even as his knees were wrenched down toward the dirt, Severus forced himself to stay calm, thinking of Harry as he did. Severus began silently chanting a string of Latin, willing himself to end the tingling sensation that had encapsulated his body. And then, the side of Severus' face exploded in pain, and the back of his head smashed into the ground.

There was a sickening, almost hazy crack before the booted foot lashed out, and again, pain reverberated throughout Severus' skull. Another foot smashed against his face, and then, another rocked his ribs violently. Something hard smashed up against his nose, and Severus vaguely felt the warm trail of blood as it seeped through his open lips.

Blinding light flashed in his eyes as two hard boot heels pummeled into his flesh; Severus could no longer see. But he wouldn't need to see...

Severus pushed the pain away, down through his shields, trying desperately to concentrate as more and more of his comrades joined the assault. Agony split his mind from his body until there was nothing else. No more resistance.

"Harry", he moaned. His flames were faltering, and he knew Voldemort could see everything. But it didn't matter anymore. There was nothing left to hide.

And then, that cold voice Severus had heard in his dreams, directed dispassionately, "Dispose of him, Lucius."

The assault ended as unexpectedly as it had begun. Severus heard the crunch of his own bones as someone stepped unconcernedly on his wrist.

"My pleasure, my Lord," agreed Lucius' well-bred voice. His breath was warm against Severus' mangled face now, and Severus barely felt the tip of the other man's wand as it traveled seductively up his chest, taunting him until coming to rest silently at Severus' throat.

Through the smoke and ashes of his dead flames, Severus felt a deep stab of regret that he had never told his son aloud that he loved him.

--

Harry!

Harry's eyes flew open. The voice did not belong to Voldemort. It was his father, crying out for him.

Yes, Harry. Hear your father's screams.

Losing temporary control of his motor functions, Harry tried to get up, his legs locking in panic. Voldemort knew. And he was going to kill his father.

"No!" Harry shouted as he scrambled out of bed. Panic gripped him, and he stumbled over his own feet as he attempted to force himself off the bed, falling hard on the stone floor. Not even feeling the sharp pains that stabbed at his back and legs, Harry shot back up and dashed toward the sitting room. He heard the familiar sound of the Floo, and Harry felt a tingling hope fill his chest. His father had gotten out, just like he'd promised.

He halted to a stop when he saw only Remus. He was facing the Floo, and Harry knew instantly that it hadn't been someone coming, but someone leaving. His breath caught as Remus turned to face him, and Harry went cold.

"Where is he, Remus?" Harry demanded, his voice high and unnatural.

"Harry..."

"Where is he?" Harry repeated shrilly. Remus sagged.

"In the Hospital Wing. But Harry..."

Harry didn't listen to another word, racing into the Floo, not even waiting for Remus as he flung down the powder, and he was pulled to the Hospital Wing in the next instant. The bed farthest from the Floo was surrounded by people, whose faces Harry didn't stop to identify.

His heart hammering in his throat, Harry shoved bodies out of his way, gasping harshly as soon as he saw his father. His face was purpled with bruises, his eyes swollen completely shut. Severus' limbs were splayed out at sickening angles, and Harry's stomach turned violently.

"No," Harry moaned desolately. "Dad?" he cried, not caring who heard him, now.

But there was no answer, not even a twitch from his father's still form, and Harry, in purest desperation, grabbed the front of his father's robes in his fists. "You promised, dammit!" Harry shouted furiously, shaking Severus as hard as he could. "You promised you wouldn't die!"

And then, as the past two months washed over him like a viscous acid, Harry let all his barriers fall, and the years of grief engulfed him, submerging him into a place he was likely never to rise from.

Harry began to cry, in raw, agonizing sobs, as he bent over the man he was just beginning to love; he buried his face in Severus' chest.

"You promised, Dad," Harry whispered hoarsely, his voice muffled against his father's Death Eater robes.

1996 

Remus stepped quickly out of the Floo into the Hospital Wing, not stopping until he reached Harry. Harry was draped over Severus' chest, the entire bed shaking with his sobs. Every witch and wizard huddled near the bed was staring, their eyes popped open in shock. Paying none of them any mind, Remus turned to Poppy, who was standing helplessly behind Harry, her eyes seeming to implore Remus to move the young man.

Completely forgetting himself, Remus turned around to face the gawking Order members. "Everybody out!" he roared, and surprise flitted across all of their faces. Especially Tonks, he noted, but he hadn't time to worry about anyone's feelings right now... Nobody's except Harry's.

"Shoo," Poppy emphasized with a flicking motion of her hands, and Albus finally took charge.

"Wait in my office," he ordered softly, and with many nods, the group found their way out of the Hospital Wing. Remus didn't notice if Tonks said goodbye. He was focused completely on Harry, his chest so heavy with dread that he didn't think he was breathing properly.

He didn't know what had happened; Poppy hadn't given any details. He didn't even know how Severus had gotten to the Hospital Wing. He wished he had something to tell Harry, something to ease his mind, but as he stood there, staring at Harry, whose hands and face were tangled up so hopelessly in his father's robes, Remus had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Well, he needed to move Harry; that much was certain.

With unsteady steps, Remus put a hand on Harry's back, and Harry flinched immediately from the touch.

Remus crouched down a bit so that he was level with Harry's face. "Harry," he whispered softly. Harry didn't respond. Moving carefully, Remus put his hands slowly on the quaking shoulders to gently tug him away from Severus. But Harry yanked himself from Remus' slight grip.

"No," he snarled. "Leave me alone," Harry insisted, a sob catching on the last of his command as he buried himself deeper against Severus.

His own eyes filling with tears, for both Harry and for Severus, Remus took a deep breath, hating himself for what he was about to do, but he could see that Harry wasn't going to relinquish his hold. "Somnus," he chanted thickly, waving his wand over Harry's prostrated form. Harry's fingers slackened their furious hold, and he began to slip from Severus' chest. Lunging forward, Remus caught his young friend around the waist, and then, turning him slightly, he hoisted Harry into his arms.

Taking only two short steps to the next bed, Remus laid his delicate bundle onto the crisp white sheets. Poppy handed him a pile of warm blankets, murmuring, "In shock." And then, she moved with precision toward Severus.

Remus unfolded the thick clutch of blankets and wrapped them securely around Harry, tucking them up and around his shoulders to keep him warm. The shock, as Poppy had said, had already begun to creep through Harry's body, and it would do no good for him to get a chill. For good measure, Remus cast a Warming Charm over the blankets, and then, as the tears threatened him again, Remus dropped heavily into the chair next to Harry's bed.

--

Remembrance seeped unwilling into Harry's conscious. His eyelids seemed to be crusted in sand as they scraped against his eyeballs. His stomach swooped as he saw the high ceilings of the Hospital Wing.

Dad

Pushing himself up so abruptly that he had to swallow back the rush of vomit that coursed up his throat, Harry waited through the spinning of the silent room.

Not seeing anything but the man lying stiffly on the bed next to his, Harry slipped down slowly from his perch and crossed with even slower steps to his father's side. It was all still there... the twisted limbs, the bruises and the face... swollen beyond recognition.

Severus was dead... just as he had been when he'd first come in here. His father had broken his promise. As a soothing numbness settled over him, Harry sat down in the chair next to his father's body. There was nothing else to do.

Nothing mattered anymore.

--

Remus tensed as soon as Harry began to stir. He leaned over his friend and waited while Harry's eyes fluttered open and their bleariness cleared. Remus reached out a steadying hand as Harry sat up with a jerk, and Harry didn't flinch away this time. He didn't even look at Remus. But Remus kept his fingers around Harry's bicep as he stood and moved over to Severus' side.

Harry stood silently for a few minutes before sitting almost mechanically in the chair next to Severus' bed. His movements were perfectly calm, perfectly composed; Remus' stomach clenched. He called for Poppy to come out of her office. Poppy came out instantly, a vial of Calming Draught in her hand.

Harry's eyes were glazed over as Poppy peered down at him, waving her wand over the top of his head. Harry still didn't look up; he simply continued to stare straight ahead.

"Maybe I shouldn't have woken him," Remus said nervously, but Poppy shook her head firmly.

"He has to deal with this," she said calmly. Remus swallowed through the lump of anguish in his throat.

"I don't know how to help him," he whispered.

Poppy laid a comforting hand on Remus' trembling arm. "Talk to him, Remus... I'm not sure he's even aware that we're here."

Remus frowned at Poppy's words. Surely, Harry knew he and Poppy were here... but as he studied Harry closely, it seemed unlikely. There had been no reaction to their exchange, no indication at all that Harry had heard them. Harry's eyes stayed firmly fixed on Severus' unrecognizable face.

"What-what should I say to him?" Remus asked worriedly. "I don't know how to tell him—"

"You'll tell him the truth, Remus. There's nothing else to do. Harry has to accept it." Poppy's voice was firm though full of kindness, and Remus knew she was right.

But he didn't think Harry would be able to accept this. When they hadn't even known anything, yet, when the threat to Severus had had been only a vague worry, Harry had been all but incapacitated. How could Remus even hope that Harry would be able to cope with this?

"Poppy," Remus said quietly, "can you have Minerva bring Ginny down here?"

Poppy nodded briskly and went to the Floo. Feeling better with the prospect of Ginny coming to help him with Harry, Remus moved cautiously forward, keeping his movements slow so he wouldn't startle Harry. He needn't have bothered. Harry's green eyes were glazed over, and it was obvious, as it should have been before, that Harry was not aware of anything...,nothing but his father's broken body.

Remus crouched down, and fighting through the flood of emotions, he put a hand gently on Harry's knee.

"Harry," he called quietly. Not a twitch, not a movement. So he put his free hand on Harry's other knee. Remus shook the knees so lightly that he wasn't sure he had done it at all. It didn't matter, anyway. Harry didn't stir.

Remus turned as he heard the roar of the Floo. He sighed in relief as Ginny stepped out, wrapped in a dressing gown, with Albus and Minerva on either side of her. Ginny's eyes were already red with tears, her young face pinched with worry.

She hurried over and dropped down next to Remus. "What's wrong with him?" she whispered, moving her hands to rest on Harry's thigh.

"He's in shock," Remus explained.

"Can't you give him something, Madame Pomfrey?" Ginny implored, twisting her neck around to the mediwitch. But Poppy shook her head.

"He needs to snap out of it on his own. When he does, he will most likely be hysterical. I'll give him a Calming Draught, then," she promised, and though Ginny bit her lip, she nodded. She turned back to Harry.

She blinked a few times before she set her jaw. "Harry, I want you to listen to me," she said firmly, and Remus was reminded again of Molly.

"I know you're in a lot of pain right now. It's okay, Harry, it really is. But Remus and I want to talk to you." Ginny's voice didn't once falter. She stood up and took Harry's face between her hands. Remus watched, sucking in his breath as Ginny turned Harry's head so that she was looking straight into Harry's eyes.

"Harry, your father needs you."

Harry seemed to see Ginny for the first time. He blinked once, slowly, but his eyes didn't lose their shadows.

--

Harry thought he could see Ginny. But Ginny wouldn't say that. His father didn't need anything, anymore. Didn't she know that?

"He's dead," Harry said dully, and he wished she could just understand, accept the reality of the situation. That she would leave him alone.

Remus' face floated in front of his vision again... Harry was sure he'd been there before.

Harry could almost see that Remus was frowning. "He's not dead, Harry."

Something flickered inside Harry's chest. He snuffed it out.

"Of course he is. I saw Lucius kill him," he said, unconcerned with Remus' trick. It was too bad, of course, that Remus... and apparently Ginny were both in denial. He would try to help them see the truth. Later.

When he didn't feel so tired.

--

Remus stood up abruptly. He glanced sideways at Albus. How had Harry known about Lucius?

"Legilimency," Albus murmured thoughtfully, nodding his head. In a panic, Remus bent down again to Harry, ignoring Ginny's look of confusion as he hastily moved her aside. No wonder Harry was catatonic. If he'd seen any of what had happened to Severus in his mind... Merlin.

He had to make Harry understand that Severus had a chance. If Harry had seen that Severus had been beaten severely and had watched as Lucius chanted the Killing Curse, it would be almost impossible to convince him. And in reality, Severus had been all but dead when he'd appeared in the Hospital Wing a few hours ago. Poppy had had to weave an extremely complex, and rarely used, Life Charm around Severus' body, rather like Muggle life support, Poppy had told him, while she began attempting to fix his internal injuries.

Severus' ribs were shattered, his internal bleeding out of control, and most of his organs had ceased in their assigned functions. The charm was the only thing keeping him alive, now. Poppy had had to call in two other Healers from St. Mungo's to assist her. They were both busy brewing fresh potions in the school's labs. Potions classes would be cancelled indefinitely.

But Severus would get better, Remus tried to convince himself. He had to. And Remus knew without a doubt that Harry would need to help his father.

Losing most of his cautiousness, now that he knew what was going on inside Harry's mind, Remus took hold of Harry's shoulders firmly. He shook him briefly to get his attention again. Harry merely glanced at him before he looked away again toward Severus.

"Harry, listen to me. Your father's alive," Remus said gently. When Harry refused to listen, Remus shook him again. "He's not dead. Do you hear me?" he asked fiercely.

Apparently, he did. Harry's eyes flashed, and he twisted away from Remus' grasp as he pushed himself abruptly from his chair.

"Shut up, Remus!" he growled, shoving Remus as hard as he could. "Don't lie to me! I saw them," he shouted as his arms waved wildly around his head. "I saw Voldemort. Lucius said Avada Kedavra. He did it! I saw Lucius kill him. He's dead, dammit. Don't you understand? Dead!"

Remus, pushing away his regret, forced himself to grab Harry's arms, and then, he spun his friend around to face Severus again. Harry's eyes were wild; he tried to scrabble backward. "No!" he cried frantically, but Remus was stronger, and he pushed Harry right up against the bed; Harry writhed against his chest. Remus wrapped Harry's fingers around Severus' wrist. He put his lips right up to Harry's ear.

"Do you feel that, Harry? Do you feel your father's heart beat?" Remus breathed quietly, his voice gentle while his grip remained firm. Harry stilled, though tears were falling down his cheeks.

"He's alive, Harry," Remus repeated soothingly, making sure Harry had heard him this time. "He's very ill, but he's alive."

"He's—" Harry whispered, sounding strangled, but he couldn't finish as a sob whooshed from his chest, and to Remus, it felt as though all of Harry's bones had dissolved. Harry collapsed against him, finally giving in to the hysteria, as Poppy had predicted. He was sobbing uncontrollably, now.

The mediwitch moved forward, ever-ready. Not even attempting to ask Harry to drink, she waved her wand, and the contents of her vial were transferred to Harry's stomach. Remus gently turned his charge back around and pulled him into his chest, letting Harry drain himself of everything.

Poppy's Calming Draught worked quickly; Harry's sobs began to quiet, and his breathing slowly became less ragged as he drew in air against Remus' shoulder. When Harry was finally silent again, Remus asked softly, "Are you all right, now?"

--

Harry shuddered lightly. Of course he wasn't all right. How could Remus ask him that? He didn't know what he was feeling. With a quick motion, he pulled back, and Remus let him go. Harry turned back to his father.

Alive.

He'd felt his pulse... It must be true.

Still not able to really believe it, Harry brought his fingers back to his father's wrist. He pressed two fingers to the inside, right under the thumb. He could feel the whispered thump... thump... thump. It was there. Thready and almost silent, but it was there.

His father was alive.

Drawing in a gasping breath, he said shakily, "I saw Lucius kill him..."

Harry had watched the entire thing as he'd tried to get out of bed, just before he'd heard the Floo in the sitting room. He glanced up once toward Remus. And then, he noticed Ginny. "Ginny?" he asked dumbly. Where had she come from?

Ginny stepped closer, and Harry thought he felt a bit warmer, now. But he still didn't understood what had happened. He turned back to Remus.

"What happened?" he pressed, his head still swimming with everything.

"Lucius was playing a part," Dumbledore said as he came to stand at the other side of Severus' bed. "He activated your father's Portkey. It sent him straight to the Hospital Wing," he explained when Harry continued to stare in confusion.

"But I—" Harry tried to protest, but Dumbledore was already nodding his head.

"He started chanting the curse right before the Portkey took your father away. He had to continue his part, my boy," Dumbledore finished, and Harry didn't think he'd ever seen the headmaster looking so sad. It made Harry's stomach clench painfully.

Harry pursed his lips. He laid his hand timidly on his father's chest. "Will he be all right?" he asked. His voice was wobbling, and he knew he wouldn't be able to still the hurt that was fighting to reach his throat. His father had to be all right. But how could he be? Harry had seen the way the other Death Eaters—no, he wouldn't think about that.

He should erect his shields again, he told himself resignedly, but to his astonishment, his Dementor Storm, stormy and black though it was, was fully in place again.

With a sharp pang, Harry realized how proud his father would have been—would be—he amended fiercely, when he told him he had kept his shields together on instinct alone. Incredibly grateful for all that his father had taught him, Harry buried the images of his father at the hands of his comrades and waited for somebody to answer him.

"You don't know, do you?" he finally mumbled when there was only silence.

Ginny squeezed his hand, and Remus shifted beside him, but it was Pomfrey who finally answered, "I've woven a complex charm throughout his body. It's keeping him alive. His injuries are extensive, I won't lie to you. But we're doing everything we can, Harry." As Pomfrey's clinical tone changed with a stunted sadness, Harry felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

Harry nodded stiffly as the tears filled his eyes again. His insides had turned to stone at her words, but he couldn't allow himself to give in this time. Ginny had said his father needed him.

"What can I do?" he whispered.

"Stay here with him. Talk to him." Pomfrey encouraged. She took a deep breath before saying quietly, "His mind was tortured just as thoroughly as his body. And that may well be impossible to repair."

Harry felt his fingers clenching up in soft fabric as a tremor convulsed his body again. With a sickening lurch, he realized his father was still wearing his Death Eater robes. His tears had washed through them as he'd lain across Voldemort's uniform. Harry retched violently, and then, he expelled the entire contents of his stomach, all over the silky black material.

October 31,1996--around 11:00pm

"Shoo," Poppy directed and Albus moved away from Severus, with one last look at his young friend. He nodded toward the small group of Order Members, staring in shock at Harry.

"Wait for me in my office," he told the group in general and once the others had obediently left through the Floo, all of them shooting furtive glances back at Harry, Albus turned around once more toward Severus. Remus was casting a Sleeping Spell over the distraught boy and Albus felt a great wave a sadness wash over him.

He watched as Remus picked Harry gently up into his arms and settled him on the bed. He continued to watch with a heavy heart as Remus bundled their Harry up in blankets and then Albus closed his eyes in pain as Remus slumped into the chair beside the bed, seemingly lost in his own grief.

With all his heart, Albus wished in those moments that he had taken better care of Harry. Wished that he had questioned Lily and James more fully; wished he had followed his instincts regarding Severus. But he hadn't. He'd believed Lily as fully as Severus had. And then he'd ignored the further promptings to keep Harry from the Dursleys. He had thought he was doing what was best. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Even when he'd finally seen a way to fix everything...still, Albus felt the pain of so much regret. And now...Severus. But Severus wouldn't let himself slip through so easily. Albus had witnessed how deeply he loved Harry. There wasn't a single conversation they had had in the past few weeks that Harry's name hadn't come up. Already Severus spoke of him with such pride; such deep affection that Albus couldn't believe Severus would give him up so easily.

And Harry. Harry's emotions were much easier to read...they always had been. Harry could love. Just like his mother. Surely, he would refuse anything less than Severus' full recovery. Yes, Albus told himself firmly. Harry wouldn't let Severus go.

"Albus."

Albus opened his eyes, not at all startled by the intrusion. He had been waiting for it, in fact. He raised his eyebrows at Kingsley.

"Did you get him home, Kingsley?" he asked. Kingsley nodded solemnly.

"Narcissa's waiting for you."

Albus nodded. Finally, some good news. "Thank you Kingsley. The others are in my office. I'll be there shortly." Kingsley nodded once and Albus watched him go before turning his gaze back to Severus' bed.

Poppy was busy, continuing to weave her Life Charm around Severus' frail body. Remus was alternating glances between Harry and Severus and Albus smiled sadly. Remus was fully invested in both of them, and Albus wondered if the young man even recognized the delicate tendrils of friendship that were beginning to stretch between the two of them. Just like it had between Severus and James so many years ago....

Albus nodded to himself, reaching into one of his many pockets for a pinch of Floo powder. Satisfied that both Harry and Severus would be well taken care of, Albus stepped into the Poppy's fireplace. He threw down his powder and called quietly, "Malfoy Manor!"

He stepped out again into the elegant parlor. The house-elf was waiting for him.

"Mistress is upstairs with Master. Pandy is to be taking the Headmaster to see them," the little elf said eagerly, waving her hands toward the elaborate staircase. Albus nodded in acquiescence and followed Pandy upstairs. She went to the door at the end of the hallway and ushered Albus in.

Albus smiled kindly at Narcissa, who stood up delicately from the ornate chair she had been seated in and came over to him; her face was rigid with worry. Albus nodded to the Mediwizard who glanced up only briefly in acknowledgement, and then went back to his work.

"How is he, Narcissa?" Albus queried, taking the hand she offered to him.

"The Healer is still checking him," she told Albus quietly, waving him toward the bed.

Lucius' eyes were closed, his milky skin much paler than normal, his silver hair damp and matted. There were only a few patches of bruised skin, a few cuts along his chin. Lifting his eyes to the Healer, he asked, "How is he?"

Healer Martet, a loyal member of the Order, smiled grimly. "There are very few physical injuries. He's been hit with a particularly debilitating curse though. It will take some doing to wake him again."

Albus nodded, unconcerned with this news. "Has his mind been affected?" he asked briskly.

The Healer shook his head. "No."

"Excellent," Albus murmured with a smile. "I will need to enter his thoughts," he informed the Healer. The younger man nodded his approval, gesturing for the Headmaster to begin.

Glancing up at Narcissa, who nodded shakily, Albus turned back to Lucius. He brought his hand to rest against the younger man's cheek and drew in a deep breath as he felt Lucius' unconscious mind begin to writhe against his own.

He was standing in the familiar circle, next to Severus. They had stood this way many times...for many years. Lucius kept his eyes focused on the Dark Lord and waited.

He was angry. The Dark Lord was gazing around, as though trying to decide who he would torture tonight. Lucius readied himself.

"My followers have failed me once again," the Dark Lord whispered and his eyes seemed to be only for Lucius. "It's a pity, really," he continued, shaking his head as though he could actually feel regret. Lucius stiffened, preparing himself for the retribution he knew would be aimed toward him.

"I had so hoped your son could join us, Severus."

Lucius' spun around, with every other Death Eater in the circle, to face Severus. Son? Potter? But none of the Death Eaters had a chance to take it in.

Severus made a movement for his wand and Lucius watched in fascination as the Dark Lord thrust out a vindictive hand. Severus fell to his knees. The Dark Lord was smiling as he flicked his other hand toward Crabbe and Goyle, and they hunched forward, their brutish frames almost shivering in anticipation.

Severus' eyes were closed. Goyle smashed a foot against Severus' unprotected head and Lucius watched as Severus' head snapped back and smacked sharply against a rock.

No! Lucius wanted to cry out. Not now. Not when Draco needed his protection. He cared little for Severus Snape, but he could not let him die.

Draco needed him.

Lucius set his jaw, before forcing a vindictive smile to his lips as he strengthened his shields against any intrusions and joined the vicious clutch around Severus. Aiming only a few harsh kicks at Severus, he turned toward the Dark Lord. He was watching with a cruel smile.

Lucius set his lips to match and walked forward. The Dark Lord slid his eyes briefly to Lucius, saying coldly, "Surely you realize the traitor has betrayed your son, Lucius. You, more than the rest, must welcome a chance for retribution."

The ruby eyes glimmered in the moonlight.

Lucius bowed slightly, demonstrating with care, his servitude. "I do, My Lord," he agreed fervently. He checked his shields before murmuring humbly, "I beg you, My Lord, to allow me the final retribution. He has betrayed my entire family. He has obviously been stunting Draco's efforts on your behalf, My Lord. I ask you to let me be the one."

He bent down, keeping back the swirl of bile that surged up, and lightly kissed the pale knuckles that the Dark Lord offered forth. And he waited. A cold hand brushed against his hair. Lucius stilled the tremor that started through his body.

"I will grant you that privilege," the cold voice agreed.

Lucius looked up again and the red eyes glinted in ugly satisfaction. Lucius nodded fervently, bowing low this time. "You are most gracious, My Lord. It is more than I deserve."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Remember that, Lucius, when you next speak to your son."

Lucius nodded quickly and bent once more to kiss his Master's hand. The Dark Lord allowed the touch and then drew back his hand. He waved it dismissively toward Severus. His voice rang out to the group of Death Eaters, still engaged in their task.

"Dispose of him, Lucius."

Lucius nodded and moved forward, drawing his wand as he walked. His comrades parted. Stilling his churning emotions, Lucius stepped, with a calculated movement, on Severus' wrist. The bones cracked in a satisfying crunch.

He bent his face close to the man who had played a role so well, for so many years; the man who had protected Draco more than once. He felt no regret for what he was about to do. This was for Draco...and for Draco's mother.

"My pleasure, My Lord," he breathed and pulled his wand up along Severus' robes, chanting the silent words to activate the Portkey. Slowly, he moved his wand, giving the Portkey time and then he stopped, resting his wand against Severus' throat. "Avada-"

Severus glowed blue and then he was gone.

Lucius thrust himself backward in feigned surprise. The Dark Lord screeched in rage and Lucius turned, knowing he would be killed. Before he finished his circle, more than a dozen witches and wizards appeared around the circle, all of them dressed in red. Aurors.

The Dark Lord roared again and lights began flashing all over the barren field. Lucius joined the fight, screaming curses and throwing hexes with skill as bodies danced around him. He turned to defend two of his comrades when a tall Auror appeared in front of him and before he could react, Lucius felt a jolt go through his body and he felt himself spinning toward the dirt...

Albus allowed the darkness to close once more around Lucius as he untangled his thoughts easily from the ones that did not belong to him. Lucius had given them Severus. For his own selfish reasons, certainly, but they all owed him much gratitude, nonetheless.

Albus straightened up and turned toward Narcissa, whose hands were pressed tightly together, her joints white with the effort. Albus knew she was afraid of what he might have found...afraid for what it might mean for Draco. He smiled reassuringly at the pale woman.

"Voldemort," he began, and she flinched at the name but Albus paid no attention to it as he continued, "chose Severus for his games tonight. Lucius saved him." She blinked, surprised. "For Draco," he added and Narcissa relaxed. "I do not know if Voldemort will seek retribution. I do not know if he realizes it was Lucius."

Narcissa nodded shakily.

"Thank him for me, will you, my dear?" he asked cheerfully and she nodded again. Albus smiled and turned back to the Healer. He took a small vial from his robes and handed it over. "It will reverse the curse," he explained and then he turned abruptly away. "I will take my leave. Someone will be in touch," he told Narcissa mildly.

Apparently, she'd lost all ability to speak as she only nodded again. Albus inclined his head and walked swiftly from the room, finding his way back to the parlor and into the Floo easily. Wishing he didn't have to, he threw down another pinch of powder and called for his office.

He stepped into his office with a quiet sigh. He didn't want to explain everything now. There was too much else to do.

"Is it true, Albus?" Arthur asked.

The others glanced at the eldest Weasley and then back to Albus, their expressions ranging from nervous to incredulous.

"Of course it isn't true!" Jonas, their Ministry contact, broke in, sounding uncharacteristically agitated and Bill nodded in agreement. "Severus Snape was a Death Eater!" Jonas cried, as though insulted at the very idea of a relationship between Severus and Harry. The others began muttering and Albus sighed and held up a wizened hand. There was no reason any longer to keep this particular secret.

"Severus is Harry's father," he affirmed simply. They stared at him. Before the bedlam could begin, Albus turned to Kingsley.

"I need you and Nymphadora to go to Malfoy Manor. Voldemort discovered that Harry is Severus' son. That is why Severus was beaten. Lucius is the one who sent Severus to the Infirmary. The Malfoys may need protection."

Kingsley nodded immediately though Nymphadora looked like she wanted to argue. With a quick look from Kingsley though, she smoothed her features, set her jaw, and nodded as well. They went to the Floo and Albus turned back to the other Order members.

"Jonas, pull yourself together," Albus chided gently as the man was opening and closing his mouth in wonderment. "I need you to go to the dungeons and stay near Draco." Jonas looked ready to protest as well, but at mild glare from Albus, he sighed and nodded. He turned to the Floo as well.

The four Weasley men were looking at one another, confusion dashed across their freckled faces.

Arthur finally spoke again, his voice strained, "How can this be, Albus?"

"I will tell you only that they only just discovered it themselves, and," he added pointedly, "I assure you that both of them are quite happy."

The Weasleys looked even more bewildered. Albus smiled sadly. "I will let Harry explain if he wishes to...when he feels up to it."

"Will Snape be all right?" George--at least Albus thought it was George--asked tentatively. Albus smiled, pleased that he seemed concerned, even though it was clearly concern for Harry.

"Poppy will do everything she can," Albus assured him. Both twins nodded, looking satisfied with that answer. Albus cleared his throat. "Now, gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I must return to the Hospital Wing."

The Weasleys continued to stare, obviously not finished digesting the news. Albus turned toward the Floo, only just hearing one of the twins muttering, "Mum's gonna have kittens," before he disappeared in the green flames.

--

November 1, 1996--around 2:00am

Over and over, Harry vomited, until the retching was dry and painful. Then he felt gentle hands, probably Remus', pulling him backward.

"Get rid of them," Harry ordered coarsely, hoping one of them would understand.

With one quick wave of Dumbledore's hand, the robes that had desecrated Severus' body were replaced with a clean hospital gown. Harry gaped at it. The final nail, hammering down. His father was really in the Hospital. He was sick.

Harry could feel the edges of panic begin to crowd him but as he closed his eyes, thinking of his father, he knew he could do this. He gently firmed his storm, feeling himself relax. When Harry opened his eyes, Pomfrey was peering in at him. He didn't even blink at the intrusion.

Then there was a glass of water in his face. "Gargle," Pomfrey ordered. Harry took the glass and obeyed, swishing the warm water quickly around his mouth. It tasted rather minty and it tingled against his gums.

"Spit," was Pomfrey's next command as another glass, this one empty, appeared in front of him. Leaning over slightly, he spat. Harry felt a bit better, now that his mouth had lost that disgusting aftertaste. He frowned though as Pomfrey leaned in to study him again, her eyes narrowed.

"Do you need another vial of Calming Draught?" she asked.

Another? He hadn't realized he'd had a first.

"I'm all right," Harry assured her, shaking his head. She looked doubtful but after she had waved her wand up and down his body, she nodded.

And then she suggested briskly, "You had best get out of those clothes, Mr. Potter." Harry looked down. He didn't remember getting dressed in pyjamas. "They're damp," Pomfrey continued, "Would you like me to-"

"That's all right. I can do it," Harry interrupted and after a quick Drying Spell, followed by a Freshening Charm, he took a moment to remember the incantation and then with a complicated little motion, Harry's pyjamas were jeans and a sweatshirt. And he had socks and shoes on his feet. Harry's heart twisted; his father had taught him that.

Pomfrey nodded in satisfaction before ordering Harry to sit down. "You need to rest, Mr. Potter," she told him sternly.

Since he was too tired to argue, he sat. Before Pomfrey could turn away, Harry asked timidly, "Should I-should I talk to him now?"

Pomfrey's stern face softened a bit before she nodded. "As much as you can. You may stay here as long as you like," she assured him before Harry realized he was about to ask.

"Thanks," he murmured gratefully and turned back to his father. He had no idea what to say, and he realized that four pairs of eyes were staring down at him. Ginny's...and Remus', well he didn't really mind those two pairs so much, but he didn't think he could have some sort of chat with his father while McGonagall and Dumbledore were gaping at him.

He glanced uneasily at Dumbledore, who was still standing on the other side of the bed. The Headmaster nodded as though he understood and then moved silently away, taking McGonagall with him. Harry felt two hands squeezing his shoulders, one of them small, the other much larger, both of them gentle.

"We'll wait over by Madame Pomfrey's office," Remus told him softly and Harry had to blink back tears as he nodded. Ginny's small hand trailed down his arm to his hand. She squeezed again silently and then Harry was alone with his father. He had no idea what to say. What do you say to someone who was...who wouldn't even know you were there?

Harry swallowed back his grief and stood up. He wanted to see his father's face; even through the bruises and swelling, this was still his father. The first time they'd talked, really talked, Severus had held his gaze, listening intently to everything Harry had shared. Harry let that memory fill his mind.

"It was just a brick wall, a wall! And then Hagrid tapped some of the bricks and it opened...just like that," he had chortled, feeling almost as excited as he had when he'd actually been there at the entrance to Diagon Alley with Hagrid.

"And then we went to Gringotts. I had never seen a Goblin...not a real one anyway," he'd rambled. "They were actually a bit frightening," Harry had admitted with a smile, "and the carts, well that was pretty fun. Hagrid didn't like it though," he'd mused thoughtfully.

Severus' eyes had smiled then. "Going to Diagon Alley for the first time is indeed a fascinating experience," he had agreed. And Harry had wanted to ask him about his first trip but Severus didn't seem to enjoy talking about his younger self, especially his parents, so Harry hadn't asked. Now, as he stared down at his father, he wished he had. He wished he'd done so many things differently.

Harry wished he could take back every word, every action that had hurt his father. He didn't want it to be too late. It couldn't be too late. They hadn't had enough time.

Swallowing thickly again, Harry took his father's hand gingerly. He saw Pomfrey standing over Severus on the other side, with a table full of vials; she was muttering things Harry couldn't understand as she twirled her wand up and down Severus' body. And Harry felt himself relax a bit. She would fix him.

"Dad," he said quietly, squeezing his father's hand lightly. Yes, he decided. He liked the way that sounded. That's who Severus was now.

"It's Harry," he continued awkwardly. "Madame Pomfrey said I should talk to you. I don't really know what to talk about, though..."

Little things ...easy things.

And Harry realized with a small glow that his father would want to hear about those unimportant, mundane things. He had enjoyed listening to Harry each time they'd talked.

"I took Ginny to the dance," he said, trying to keep back the tears. "She looked really beautiful. I wasn't such good company though," he said hoarsely. He paused as he steadied himself. He needed to change the subject.

"I don't think I did so well on my Transfiguration test on Tuesday. I didn't really study," he admitted, wishing as he did that Severus could give him a disapproving look. "I know I should have, of course," he told his father with a small smile, "but it was much more fun playing Exploding Snap with Ron."

"Don't worry, though," he assured Severus quickly, "you can lecture me about the importance of taking my studies seriously when you wake up." A small sob caught in his throat and any humor that had been in his voice was completely lost. If you wake up...

Harry closed his eyes briefly and calmed his raging emotions before going on. After all, his father needed this. "I transfigured my pyjamas, just like you taught me to do. And I kept my shields up, even when I didn't mean to," he told his father, a bit of excitement creeping into his voice. "I know you would have been pleased. I think I finally got the hang of this Occlumency thing."

Harry bit his lip. "I know it took a long, time; I'm sorry about that. I really am. And I know I could have done better in our lessons...not just Occlumency, but all the spells and curses you tried to teach me. I tried," he attempted to explain, beginning to feel a bit frantic that his father should understand.

"I can do better though," he promised quickly, "and I'll work harder in my classes. I even enjoyed the Potion we made together, remember?" He didn't realize how fast he was talking or how his hands were fisting in and out of Severus' hospital gown. "I'll keep studying for everything. You won't have to lecture me about anything. I promise all right? You just have to get better and I'll do everything you tell me to do. Just please!" he begged wildly, and then he felt firm hands closing over his own, stilling his frenetic movements.

"Harry," Remus whispered against his ear, "it's all right. Everything's all right." The voice was soothing and Harry felt his heart rate slowing. "Still your emotions, just like your father showed you, Harry." Harry drew in a deep breath and nodded slowly, obeying the gentle direction. He let himself feel calm again as his storm quieted.

And then Pomfrey was in front of him again, holding out a vial. Harry shook his head. "I'm all right now," he told her. Remus took the vial out of Pomfrey's hand and wrapped Harry's fingers around it.

"Drink it, Harry." Remus made it a command. After only a moment's hesitation, Harry nodded and did as he was told. He was certain his father would have made him drink it as well.

He handed the empty vial back to Pomfrey, who nodded in satisfaction and went back to her chanting. Harry was surprised as he felt the effects of the Calming Draught begin to take hold. He felt much more at ease; he felt almost rational again.

"Where's Ginny?" he asked Remus, who was still standing quite close.

"I'm here, Harry," Ginny assured him, coming from behind. Harry took her hand and pulled her close.

"Thanks for coming, Gin," Harry said softly. She didn't answer, but she moved closer. "How did you get here without waking Hermione?" he asked curiously, feeling a bit hurt that neither she nor Ron had shown up. Ginny snorted.

"McGonagall threatened to rescind her library privileges," she said. "I'm sure she went to get Ron as soon as McGonagall left though..." Ginny's eyes flicked to Remus. "Well, I mean-" she started to backtrack but Remus chuckled.

"I didn't hear a thing," he denied with a smile. Ginny grinned. And Harry couldn't stop his own smile; he was grateful for the small dose of normalcy.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Remus cast a quick Tempus Charm. "Three o'clock," he announced. It was funny; he didn't feel tired at all. But he turned in concern to Ginny.

Before he could say anything to her though, McGonagall came back over and apparently had a very similar idea to Harry's. "Ms. Weasley, I have some business to attend to...if you are ready to return to the Tower."

Ginny didn't even glance at Harry. "I'd like to stay."

McGonagall and Harry frowned together.

"Gin, it's late. I'm all right now. You should go get some sleep." It was a lie, of course. Harry was nowhere near feeling anything but a gaping void, but there was no reason for Ginny to suffer along with him. Ginny, however, only smiled up at him.

"I don't mind, Harry."

McGonagall was glancing between them now. McGonagall's eyes were shrewd as she raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure your brother and Ms. Granger are most anxious to have an update on Harry and Professor Snape," she said coolly and Harry felt a crazy urge to laugh.

Ginny however, looked ready to argue. So, Harry stepped in. "It's all right, Gin. I'll be fine. You can come back first thing in the morning. And Professor McGonagall does have a point," he said, with another small smile. And when Ginny didn't look convinced, he added, "I'll feel better if I know you're getting some rest."

Ginny rolled her warm eyes, obviously knowing Harry was manipulating her, but allowing it nonetheless. "All right," she conceded, but then she whirled on Remus. "Take care of them," she ordered fiercely. Remus blinked but nodded quickly.

Harry let Ginny give him a hug and then he watched her exit through the Floo with McGonagall. He turned back to his father and his throat constricted immediately. The reprieve had not changed anything.

"Albus, I'm ready."

Harry darted his eyes up. Pomfrey was motioning the Headmaster forward. "What are you doing?" Harry demanded, hating the way his voice trembled.

Pomfrey glanced over at him. "I've begun all the basic treatments. I need to wait to do anything else. The Headmaster and I will need to assess the condition of his mind now."

Harry's stomach lurched. "What do you mean?"

Pomfrey tried to explain, "We need to explore the extent of the damage."

Harry's heart began to hammer against his ribs. "Can I help?" he asked. But Pomfrey shook her head and Dumbledore, now beside her, did as well. "But I've been inside his mind," Harry told them, clearly hearing the desperation in the words. "I could help."

"Harry, we have no way of knowing what we'll find," Dumbledore told him. Harry was going to protest again, but he felt Remus' hand on his arm and he looked down again at his father. He could almost hear his deep voice, telling him to accept what they were saying to him. He swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn't going to disappoint his father. Not ever again.

Pomfrey and Dumbledore eyed Harry for another moment before both of them drew their wands and pressed them against Severus' temples. Harry winced, stilling the urge to tell them to be gentle.

They began chanting together. They spoke in long, unrecognizable, trailing sounds. Harry put a hand on his father's chest again, wanting to give him some sort of support. He blinked in surprise as he recognized Remus' hand beside his own and Harry's eyes went to his friend's face. Remus glanced at Harry, smiling quietly before turning his gaze again to Severus. Harry enjoyed the brief glow in his chest before he turned his attention back to his father.

Harry had no idea how long they stood there together. It seemed like hours, and only mere seconds at the same time. Finally, Pomfrey and Dumbledore withdrew their wands, both of them drawing in deep breaths.

Harry looked up quickly; he felt dizzy at the twin looks of regret.

"How is he?" Remus asked immediately.

Pomfrey shook her head. "Harry," she murmured gently, and Harry fingers clawed around his father's thin hospital gown. He closed his eyes and shook his head, willing her to stop talking. He didn't want to hear it.

"This will be hard to understand..." she began again, but Dumbledore had to finish as she seemed to have lost her voice.

"His mind has separated itself from his body. He's not there anymore. There's nothing there."

"What do you mean?" Remus demanded as he gripped Harry's arm.

"Severus...Severus was about to die," Dumbledore tried to explain, but Harry couldn't listen. Not to this. He turned away and crashed into Remus. Remus put his arms around Harry and held on tightly. Harry didn't hear another word as he listened to the roaring winds of his storm.

--

Somewhere in time and space....

There was nothing. He couldn't see anything. He didn't know if there was anything for him to see. He felt lost. Stranded...

He tried to move forward, to push through the weights constricting his limbs. As if waking from a dream, a mist slowly coalesced around him. He thought he was standing. The fog seemed almost translucent. He could see vague, wavy shapes on the other side.

Severus stepped through the mist as it parted for him. He looked all around. He should have felt confused, but he couldn't. It made absolute sense.

He was in a room. He knew this room. The dark polished wood, the large stone fireplace; he remembered all of it. The too-squashy chair, the Potions journal lying open on the low table, the books piled on the desk. It was a parlour.

It was their parlour.

Severus stepped fully into the room, letting the familiarity settle over him. He took a deep breath, enjoying the scents of fresh flowers and cloves. He knew those smells.

In anticipation, he turned around. And there she was.

Lily.

Standing in the kitchen doorway. Just as she should be.

Lily was waiting for him. She was smiling, the expression radiant on her beautiful face. Without any other thoughts, Severus went to her.

She threw her perfect arms around his neck as he pulled her close. Severus leaned in, to brush his lips against her hair. He inhaled deeply. He felt whole again.

He could almost feel the soft lingering of cloves against her skin. The fresh flowers pressed amongst their scent.

Harmony.

November 1, 1996--sometime around 4:00am

He hadn't wanted to listen. He had refused to listen. But they had told him, anyway.

Remus' arms held him tightly, and Harry just stood there, staring at the faded brown of Remus' robes, his arms hanging limp at his sides. He didn't care that he was sixteen and being held like a child. He just really didn't care about anything.

Pomfrey's Life Charm was keeping his father alive. But he wasn't really alive at all. It didn't matter that his father's heart was beating, or that his chest was rising and falling in a pale imitation of life. That's all it was. A mirage.

Severus had given up. His father had left him.

--

"No, Albus. I won't believe it," Remus whispered fiercely, glancing quickly down at Harry, whose eyes had glazed over again. "Severus wouldn't just give up like that." Remus glared at the headmaster, who gazed back at him helplessly.

"Severus was dying, Remus," Poppy tried to tell him.

Remus shook his head stubbornly. "I know he would've wanted to stay. For Harry," he emphasized with another look down at the boy standing perfectly still in his arms.

"Remus," Albus breathed sadly, "I'm sure he tried... of course he wouldn't have wanted to leave. You have no idea what Voldemort is capable of, though. It is likely that he was torturing Severus' mind just as soundly as he allowed his Death Eaters to torture his body. I'm certain Voldemort meant to drive his soul away."

Remus stared at him. "His soul?"

Albus nodded solemnly, his blue eyes dull. "Did you really doubt that Voldemort, of all wizards, would discount the importance of allowing one's soul to thrive?"

"Dammit, Albus!" Remus erupted, and both Poppy and the headmaster gaped at him. But he didn't care. What did they think they were doing to Harry? "Why didn't you explain it that way before?" he demanded. As understanding dawned, he said furiously, "This is not the time to worry about keeping Harry from discovering one of your blasted secrets!"

Remus glanced quickly once more at Harry, but Harry seemed to have buried himself again. And for now, Remus was content to let him. Poppy was staring at Albus by this point as well. Remus turned his head to her. "What happened when you went inside Severus' head?" he demanded. Poppy narrowed her eyes.

"Just as Albus told you, it's as if his body is just an empty shell, now," she said slowly. She glanced sideways at Albus. "I hadn't realized—"

Remus cut her off impatiently, turning back to the disgruntled headmaster. "What happened to Severus once Voldemort drove him away?" he demanded brusquely.

Albus frowned, his eyes beginning to lighten. "I can only assume he would have moved on."

"You mean beyond the veil?" Remus pressed quickly, and when Albus nodded, Remus set his jaw. "He would have gone to find Lily." The realization filled Remus with grief.

"Are you certain, Albus?" he asked. "That he's..." Remus couldn't help but lower his voice, "...that there's nothing there?" he pressed.

Poppy answered, cutting the headmaster off, "We couldn't detect any presence there."

Remus tightened his hold around his friend. Harry didn't stir. "But have either of you ever been in Severus' head before... the way Harry has?" The mixture of hope and dread exploded in his chest when both of them shook their heads slowly. "Wouldn't Harry be able to tell for certain?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the excitement from his voice.

"Remus," Poppy said soberly, "It would be very disturbing for Harry to look in his father's mind and find it empty."

Remus closed his eyes at the thought. Of course it would, he berated himself. They couldn't put Harry through that.

"I want to try."

Remus' eyes flew open. He looked down at Harry. Harry hadn't moved, but his green eyes were focused, now, burning with a renewed intensity.

--

"Harry, you don't understand," Dumbledore said immediately, but Harry had had enough. And not only of the headmaster's placating. Harry put a little pressure against Remus' arms; Remus dropped his arms immediately. Harry turned slowly to face Dumbledore.

"I don't need to understand, Professor," he said quietly, carefully keeping his voice low and respectful. He would stay calm. "If there's any chance that my father's there, I'm going to bring him back. I don't care how small the chance is or how terrifying it might be. I'm not just going to let him go." Harry gazed right into the headmaster's blue eyes and dared him to argue.

Dumbledore didn't argue. Pomfrey, on the other hand, seemed to have no reservations about arguing with Harry.

"Mr. Potter," she said in her best professional tones, "the headmaster and I are quite skilled in this area. It is not likely that we missed something."

"I've been in there with him, Madam Pomfrey. I know I'm not skilled at this at all, and I don't even know what I'm doing, but I know what I'm looking for." He saw no need to elaborate. His father's thoughts and, more importantly, his shields were personal. Harry had a pretty good idea of what he would find once he entered his father's mind. He had, after all, been tortured through his own mind many times by Voldemort. He didn't expect it would be easy.

Harry watched as Pomfrey and Dumbledore exchanged glances, and then both of them looked to Remus. Harry didn't turn. He knew they were asking Remus if Harry would be able to handle it. And he knew Remus wouldn't let him down.

"He has a right to try," was Remus' answer.

"We won't be able to do anything unless your father is recovered physically," Pomfrey warned, though she was smiling slightly in concession, and Harry immediately felt like throwing his arms around the mediwitch. "If any part of your father is still in there, you won't be able to bring him back while his body is so damaged."

Harry nodded quickly, unable to quash the hope blooming throughout his chest. "How long will that take?" he asked eagerly. As he moved closer to his father's bed, he faltered, "If he..."

Pomfrey's expression softened. "As I told you, we're doing everything we can, but he needs time to heal." Harry swallowed, and she nodded, her face taking on that stern look again. "He has started responding to the initial treatments," she informed him briskly. Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on his father's face.

"We'll just wait, then," Harry decided, settling into the chair to do just that.

"Mr. Potter, as much as I admire your fortitude, you do need to sleep," Pomfrey informed him, and Harry thought she sounded amused. He sighed, knowing that if he argued, Remus would most likely just jump in to second the suggestion, or worse, Pomfrey would force him to take a Sleeping Draught.

"All right," he agreed, but then looked up quickly, more nervous than he would have liked. He addressed Remus, "I want to stay here, though." It came out as a question, and Remus smiled reassuringly.

"Of course you can stay here, Harry," he told him, and Harry, feeling much relieved, turned back to Pomfrey.

"I'll just talk to him for a bit longer, then?"

Pomfrey nodded and turned back to her table of potions. Albus smiled at him and moved away. Remus squeezed his shoulder before following the headmaster. Harry stood up again, taking his father's hand as he'd done before.

"I don't know if you can hear me," Harry said, his voice much steadier than it had been the first time he'd done this, "but Madam Pomfrey says you have to get better so I can bring you home."

--

When time loses its meaning...

"Sev."

Her voice was a tinkling warmth against his chest.

"Lily," he breathed against her soft hair. He felt her trembling in his arms.

"I missed you," she whispered as he pulled her closer.

"I missed you as well, Lily, but I am here now," he soothed her, enjoying the way she fit next to his body. He brought his hand up to let his fingers trail through her hair, just like he had so many times before.

Lily lifted her face up, and he brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone and down over her lips. "My Lily," he whispered, letting the joy fill him. Tears filled her eyes as the familiar smile touched Severus' lips. "There is no reason to cry," he told her softly.

Lily smiled as well, though it was a smile full of sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Sev," she said as he gazed into her emerald eyes. He shook his head slightly, bringing his thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

"No, Lily. You did what you had to do. I do not blame you... I never blamed you," he assured her gently. Lily smiled again, and it warmed him.

"You've always been too forgiving," she chided, and he raised a disbelieving brow. She laughed, a soft musical sound. "I've missed that," she said quietly, her eyes suddenly full of gentle intensity, a warmth he remembered so well.

He slid his hand to the small of her back; his other wound itself into Lily's fiery hair, and he tugged her to him, tipping her head up. Her lovely green eyes brightened as his lips met hers hungrily; his fifteen lonely years quickly became meaningless. The only thing that mattered now was Lily.

--

November 1, 1996--sometime after breakfast

As it turned out, Harry did have to take Pomfrey's Sleeping Draught; he had been too agitated to sleep on his own. When he woke up, he felt extremely groggy, as if a fog had settled over his mind. Pomfrey had told him last night to expect to feel that way if he didn't sleep a full eight hours. He obviously hadn't.

Harry fumbled for his glasses. As soon as he tucked them around his ears, his stomach jumped. He was pretty sure the entire Weasley family was gathered around the bed; Hermione was there as well, and all of them were staring down at him, their eyes full of concern. With an internal groan, he realized immediately that they all must know about Severus. Harry couldn't remember who had been in the infirmary when he'd charged in last night, but he knew it was likely that at least one of them had been.

Harry struggled to pull himself up, ending up resting slightly on his forearms, propping his top half up on them. "Erm... hi," he greeted. Eight smiles returned his greeting.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley sobbed, and then he was pulled into a rather fierce hug, and for a minute, Harry was afraid he might be smothered alive. But he patted Mrs. Weasley's back, anyway, appreciating the sentiment and hoping the little gesture might make her release him sooner. Another long minute later, and Mrs. Weasley was pulling Harry away from her, moving some of the pillows behind his back and sorting him into a sitting position against the iron headboard.

"Now, Harry, dear," she began briskly as she readjusted the pillows, "how are you feeling?"

Harry settled his glasses again on his nose, which had gone rather askew with Mrs. Weasley's hug. He smiled a bit. "I'm all right," he told them. They all looked skeptical, especially Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Harry..." Mrs. Weasley began tentatively, and Harry tensed, "...I realize, of course, that this is rather an awkward time for such a question, but Mr. Weasley and I are concerned about you. The headmaster told us about Professor Snape and—"

“Mum!" Ron interrupted. "Ginny and I already told you—Harry's fine about Snape."

"Hush, Ron," his mother chided with a wave of her hand, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Harry. But before she could continue with her interrogation, Harry shook his head.

"I'm all right. There's really nothing to worry about," he tried to reassure her. She raised her eyebrows speculatively.

"But Harry, he has always been—"

Harry glanced at Ginny, who gave him a firm nod. "I don't want to be impolite," he said quickly as he turned back to Mrs. Weasley, "but I don't want to talk about this, especially not now. He's my father. I love him, and that's all that matters."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked taken aback by the short speech, while George and Fred were grinning at him, nudging one another for reasons Harry didn't even want to fathom. Bill looked considerably more reserved, and Harry sighed as they continued to study him.

"I need to use the loo," he told them abruptly. He didn't, really, but he wanted to get away from their gawking. George and Fred moved apart, giving him an opening. Harry pushed up off the bed, and instead of heading to the toilet, he stepped around the Weasleys and went to his father's side. As soon as he saw his father's face, he sucked in a breath.

He moved forward, reaching a hand out instinctively, but stopping just shy of actually touching Severus' cheek. Pomfrey, from her spot across from Harry, spoke up, "Your father's Swelling Salve is more effective than most," she said with a small smile. Harry heard a collective gasp from behind him, most likely due to Pomfrey referring to Severus so nonchalantly as Harry's father. Harry ignored them.

"But he looks almost normal again," he breathed. Well, not normal, he corrected silently. His father's face was still mottled with deep indigo bruises. He actually looked quite horrible, but at least, he didn't look like a furless Pigmy Puff any longer.

"How is he?" Harry asked eagerly.

"His bones are mending nicely, and I've stopped the internal bleeding. The majority of his vital organs are still not functioning on their own, including his lungs." Harry bit his lip, wishing she had better news. His father couldn't even breathe on his own, yet.

"Are you using fresh potions?" Hermione queried, coming to stand next to Harry. Pomfrey pursed her lips, but didn't answer as she continued her work. Harry felt a heavy pat on his shoulder. He glanced over as Ron took his place on Harry's other side.

"You all right, mate?" Ron asked quietly. Harry shrugged. Ron nodded in understanding, giving his friend another pat. "Sorry about mum," he offered. Harry shook his head, though.

"I know she's just worried about me. It's all right," he assured his friend lightly. And really, it was. Mrs. Weasley had been almost like a mother to him for the past few years, and he knew very well that she loved him. Harry turned his head slightly; the other Weasleys were huddled around Ginny. She was nodding a lot while they all peppered her with questions. Ginny looked up and rolled her eyes indulgently when she caught Harry's eye. Harry shook his head resignedly and turned back to his father. He looked up in surprise when the door from the corridor slammed open.

Tonks, her hair a deep crimson, came stomping through the door. Harry stared at her, but she was looking straight ahead. Harry whirled around; Remus was following Tonks' movements warily as she stormed over to him. Harry didn't blame him; she looked furious. Harry drew in a breath as she stepped up to him, afraid she was going to slug him.

Tonks, in one smooth motion, threw her arms around Remus and kissed him noisily. Remus, who had stepped back a pace, quickly moved closer to Tonks, and Harry all of a sudden felt like a Hippogriff was sitting on his chest; he quickly turned away from the very public display.

Ginny and Hermione were watching the scene in fascination, while Ron was making a gagging motion toward Harry. Harry didn't respond; he was too busy watching Pomfrey waving her wand, feeling considerably more anxious about attempting to bring his father back than he had a minute before.

What if his father didn't want to come back? What if he'd already found mum? Wouldn't he want to stay there with her?

Harry pursed his lips against the surge of hurt he felt with those thoughts, knowing he shouldn't feel that way.

It was selfish... wasn't it?

After a while, Tonks sauntered over to Harry, with Remus following closely behind her. They stood in silence around Severus' bed. "So," Tonks stated casually, "Professor Snape's your father."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling mildly agitated. This was going to become tiresome. But Harry was surprised when Tonks tapped his hand.

"Congratulations," she told him solemnly. Harry blinked at her. And then she spun around, waving her hands toward Mr. Weasley. "Come on Weasleys," she called cheerfully, motioning to the clan, "the headmaster wants to see you."

Harry, his friends, and Remus watched them go. Harry was the only one not smiling.

"Classes start in less than ten minutes. All of you... out!" Pomfrey directed, and Harry looked up in some confusion. He wondered briefly if she was talking about morning or afternoon classes, but since he wasn't about to leave to find out, he didn't bother asking.

Harry accepted a hug from Hermione, another pat from a Ron, and a kiss from Ginny. Then McGonagall, apparently materializing out of thin air, escorted the trio from the Hospital Wing.

"What was that about... with Tonks, I mean?" Harry asked after they'd left, mostly to distract himself from the depressing turn his thoughts had taken.

Remus smiled. "She was thanking me for trying to keep you and Severus safe."

"By not telling anyone, you mean?" Harry surmised. Remus nodded. "She seemed pretty intense," Harry commented, not really interested in why, but he wanted to keep talking.

"Tonks was with the Malfoys all night," Remus explained. "I got the impression that Lucius was in a rather foul temper."

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. "He only did it because of Draco, didn't he?" he asked quietly and then felt a vague swish of uneasiness at Remus' confirmation. He didn't know why it should matter, but somehow, it did.

"Harry." Remus' voice was gently prodding, and Harry glanced up. "What's on your mind?" Remus asked. Harry swallowed, wishing his friend wasn't so perceptive.

Harry's voice was a mere whisper as he asked, "What if he doesn't want to come back?" Harry couldn't voice the reason his father might have for staying away, but Remus patted his hand, and Harry knew he understood, anyway.

"If even a small part of your father is in there, Harry, it's because he doesn't really want to leave," Remus said simply, as if that settled the matter. Harry bit his lip, still feeling entirely uncertain about the whole idea.

--

November 3, 1996--evening

Harry's friends spent most of the weekend in the infirmary with Harry. Remus stayed the entire time, and Tonks apparently alternated her time between Malfoy Manor and Remus' side. Harry was looking forward to the start of the school week again on Monday. He wanted to be alone with his father, but he didn't want to tell his friends to leave, so he simply let the conversations flow around him, while he assisted Pomfrey with her treatments.

She had asked him late Friday night for his help when Harry had been growing more and more agitated with Severus' stagnant condition. Now, he was a constant presence by her side, handing her potions as she asked for them and gently applying salves and creams as she directed. He had to admit, it made the time go by faster, and Harry felt much better, knowing he was helping his father.

Harry was just saying good night to his friends when Pomfrey came out of her office and asked Harry to join her at his father's bedside. Harry hastily left his friends to Tonks, who was escorting them back to the Tower, and hurried with Remus over to Pomfrey.

"What is it?" Harry asked nervously, hoping the mediwitch was going to tell him his father was going to be just fine.

"He's breathing on his own," Pomfrey announced, almost smugly, and Harry's heart leapt.

"What does that mean?" he demanded. Please let it mean that he's going to be okay.

"It means just that, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey told him sternly, and Harry's shoulders drooped. Pomfrey's tone softened a bit as she continued, "But it is a good sign. He's beginning to heal on his own, now..." Harry stepped closer to his father, feeling very nervous at the pronouncement. "...and I think it would be a good idea to allow your father to continue his recovery in his own quarters."

Harry looked up in surprise. "Why?"

Pomfrey smiled a little at him. "Familiar surroundings may be beneficial to a full recovery."

Harry drew in a quick breath, not daring to believe what she was implying. "You mean, you think..."

"I think, in a few more days, yes, your father will be stable enough for you to make your attempt."

Harry stared at her, not ready to comprehend that, yet.

--

November 4, 1996--afternoon

Harry stood outside his father's door, extremely hesitant to enter the bedroom. Pomfrey had already settled Severus into his bed while Harry and Remus waited in the sitting room. And now... well... going in his father's room seemed too personal, somehow. He didn't want to invade his private space. But Harry's rational mind knew there was no help for it, so he gently pushed the door open; he pulled in a startled breath.

It was like he was intruding on his father's innermost feelings. Harry could almost feel his mum in this room. The furniture, just as in the sitting room, had obviously been chosen by Lily. The woods were dark, but pleasantly simple, and the deep blues and reds of the fabrics somehow seemed to radiate warmth.

Harry's throat closed as he stepped over to the night table. There was a picture of his mum; she looked so happy. Harry's heart quickened as he reached out for the other photo... his own green eyes blinked up at him. Harry recognized it instantly as a photo Colin Creevey had taken of him at the end of last term. He was smiling slightly, though even Harry could see how sad he had looked...

How his father had gotten it, Harry had no idea. Smiling slightly, he set the picture back on his father's night table.

Harry turned slowly to face his father. He almost looked like he could be sleeping. Pomfrey had told him this morning that his liver was functioning again, and as soon as she gave him clearance, he could try to enter his father's mind. At the thought, instead of feeling excited, a deep sadness ached through him.

Now that he was finally alone, he knew he needed to have a little chat with his father. Harry bit his lip as he dragged the heavy desk chair over to the bed. He sat down carefully, and resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward.

"Listen, Dad," Harry said with intensity, "I'm not certain what you want me to do." He rushed on, feeling ill at ease, "If Dumbledore is right, and Voldemort... well, if he did force your soul to leave, then you probably didn't want to leave... but now..." Harry swallowed hard. "...if somehow you're with mum now... it's okay."

Harry blinked back the tears as he forced himself to finish, "It's okay if you want to stay with her."

It wasn't the first lie he'd ever told his father, but it certainly was the most painful. Because even as he said it, Harry knew that if his father decided not to come back, he would never forgive him. As Harry gazed down at Severus, an inexplicable anger surged through him... anger at his father for leaving him, and anger at himself for begrudging his father whatever peace he might have found.

--

When and where peace dwells...

He trailed a hand down the delicate skin of Lily's shoulder. She smiled up at him.

"Did you miss this as well?" she teased, her green eyes full of love.

"I did," he answered seriously, and then his lips lifted in a small smirk. "I did not, however, realize how much I missed it."

Lily propped herself up lightly to scowl playfully at him. "I should probably be insulted by that," she said with a little sniff; his chest rumbled with amusement.

"I think, in fact, that you should accept it as the highest compliment," he informed her, as he brushed his thumb down her arm. Lily shivered under the touch.

Her eyes softened, and her features melted into a smile. "Maybe you should reserve judgment..." Lily whispered softly as she leaned into his chest once more.

His heart quickening in anticipation, he accepted her challenge.

--

November 5, 1996--late into the night

Harry was kneeling on the hard stone floor next to his father's head, wondering as he had been for the past two days if he shouldn't just let his father go.

Harry had been absolutely rigid with worry for the past day and a half. He'd sat by his father's side, almost ceaselessly, getting up only to tend to his father. Madam Pomfrey had left Harry with everything he'd need to care for her patient, coming and going throughout the day to check on Severus' progress. Remus had spent most of his time in the sitting room, leaving Harry alone with his father, reassuringly nearby, though, if Harry needed him.

And now, Remus stood next to him, waiting for Harry to give the signal that he was ready. Pomfrey and Dumbledore were standing on the other side of the bed, both of them ready to intervene if necessary, they'd told him. And Harry hoped he wouldn't need their help. If his father was there, he wouldn't...

Harry felt a warm hand on his shoulder; he let out a shaky breath. Remus had been right, he knew. If his father wanted to come back, he would find him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Harry lifted his hands to rest them gently on the sides of Severus' face. He needed to see those black orbs that told so much. With a deep breath and a nod to Remus, Harry watched as his friend used his thumbs and forefingers to gently pry open Severus' eyelids. Harry gazed into his father's dark eyes.

The fire had died. There was not even a spark. Voldemort had destroyed everything. It was bleak... dark. Dumbledore had been very wrong; it was powerfully more than merely disturbing. Harry's first instinct was to rip himself backward, out of the yawning pit of despair that Voldemort had left behind.

But Harry forced himself to stay; he was stubborn. He wasn't going to lose his father if his father didn't want to be lost. Harry wasn't going to be driven away by Voldemort.

Not again.

With easy care, Harry brought his storm forward and into his father's mind. The cloud was light, almost white as it probed gently around the rubble. The wispy tendrils moved outward to caress the ashes.

Dad?

The ashes didn't answer.

Timeless…

Severus held Lily tightly as they stood together, her back to him, just enjoying her sweet presence. He bent down to brush another kiss along her neck. He stiffened.

Harry?

Lily twisted her neck slightly to look at him. “Sev?” she questioned, her voice full of concern.

Dad? and he could almost hear the desperation of his son's shadowed storm.

“Harry,” Severus breathed, his heart plummeting as he heard the ghost of his son’s pain.

Lily turned fully around, her eyes wide. “Harry?” she repeated excitedly, seeming to be searching behind Severus. But Harry wasn’t here with them. Severus closed his eyes. What had he done?

“No,” Severus shook his head, feeling almost weightless again. Lily looked up at him, her gentle eyes crinkled in confusion. “He’s calling me,” he explained, his heart twisting as he gazed down at his wife.

Lily sucked in a harsh breath. “What?” she cried, sounding somewhat panicked. “But, you shouldn’t be able-” she brought her hand abruptly to clench her fingers in his robes, obviously coming to same wretched conclusion he had.

Harry was waiting for him to come back.

“He will never forgive me this,” Severus whispered. Lily’s eyes darkened with sadness and Severus couldn’t bear to see her pain. He had disappointed her again.

“He loves you,” she told him fiercely.

Pain filled Severus’ chest. “He should not. I hated him…my own son. You died, Lily and then I buried our son with you…” Severus paused as the remorse cut off his words, and then on a whispered breath, he murmured, “And now I’ve left him again.”

Lily brought her small hand to rest against his cheek. “But you haven’t left him, Sev.” Severus stared down at her. Lily smiled, looking radiant. “Don’t you see? If you can hear him, a part of you is still there with Harry. You can go back,” she told him excitedly.

He could go back? To Harry? The blossom of hope immediately shriveled as he gazed at Lily. He would have to leave his Lily. But how could he not? Harry was searching for him. Harry wanted him. Severus felt a warm glow at the thought, even as the chill overtook him.

“Lily,” he whispered, gathering her to him as the name choked on his decision. “Forgive me,” he begged. Lily’s arms tightened around his neck.

“He’s our son. He needs you,” she said simply and then she pulled back a little, spearing him with her emerald eyes. He tensed. “And you do deserve to be loved, Severus Snape,” she scolded fiercely. “Let Harry love you. He needs to love you just as much as you need to love him.”

Severus opened his mouth, but Lily pressed a finger against his lips. “No, Sev. Let the past go. He’s already forgiven you…I’ve forgiven you,” she assured him softly.

Severus’ throat was dry. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear that. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She shook her head, her eyes glinting. “Just take care of him.”

Severus nodded, afraid to speak through the emotions that were permeating every part of him, but he needed to. “I will, Lily,” he promised as he felt the unfamiliar tingling of tears in his eyes…and yet somehow, the tears felt right.

Lily’s eyes sparked in surprise, though she looked pleased. She brushed away one of the tears that had fallen from his lashes, something she had never been able to do before. Emotions ripped through Severus again at the delicate gesture.

He caught Lily’s hand and brought it to his lips as he remembered his last regret as he’d lain in the dirt. Severus gazed down at Lily and said softly, “I love you, Lily. I have always loved you.” It was so much easier now. He felt free.

Lily seemed to glow with the words. “I love you, Sev.” She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him gently. Severus leaned into the kiss; the agony of separating from her again threatened to tear him apart, even as the light of anticipation healed him.

She finally pulled away and a sudden worry tugged at him. “I don’t know how to get back to him,” he said, not expecting the flood of grief the realization caused him. Lily smiled her precious smile.

“Harry will help you,” she assured him and then she ran her fingers through his hair, before promising quietly, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And Severus, as the warmth and pain swirled together, pulled his dear Lily in for one last embrace. And then he let Lily go and turned back to find his son.

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

November 5, 1996

Dad? Are you here?

The storm darkened with its anxiety. The tendrils sifted frantically through the ashes.

A smoldering ember.

Dad? the storm called again as it shadowed. It was so cold.

The graying curl tickled forward, nudging the tiny glowing coal.

It’s me. The storm coalesced in graying anticipation.

With gentle strength, the storm dug through the ashes, turning them up and over, stoking them to warm, coaxing them to burn again.

Slowly, with methodical caresses, the storm searched through the cinders, guiding them as the coals began to glow brighter.

A spark.

Harry… But the spark was too weak. It flickered. The storm converged on it, blowing a soothing breath across its bow.

Come back, Dad, the storm cajoled, forcing itself to stay warm, pushing the chill away.

The spark caught against the ash and with frenzied motions, the storm built the tinder up, helping the fire.

Harry? The spark began to burn.

I’m here, the storm promised.

You’ve been waiting for me? The spark rose into tiny flame.

Yes, the storm answered, drawing itself protectively around the fledgling flames, allowing them to build and grow; their fiery tips stretched higher. The storm backed away.

No, the flames refused. I cannot do this on my own, they admitted.

The storm warmed, drawing itself around the fire again, waiting patiently while the flames swirled brighter, burning higher and higher, until with a great roar, they burst over the storm.

The storm changed direction, watching with frenzied excitement as the raging flames called the storm forward. The storm chilled a bit as it moved toward the flames. The flames warmed, stilling the cold.

Watch, the flames commanded gently. The storm obeyed, breezing in fascination as pictures began to form in the flames…memories.

Tendrils separated the memories from the flames, only to bury some of them again. The storm blackened in anger as the violent memories were thrust downward.

The flames reached forward to stroke the storm and the clouds gentled again around the familiar warmth.

The storm twisted in surprise as other memories burst forth and the flames encouraged them to stay. Lily…James…Harry.

There is no need to hide anymore. The flames danced. The storm thundered with laughter.

The flames warmed again. It is time to go now, they told him.

The storm rippled through with ice.

The flames flickered with surprise and then built into a fiery inferno in the next instant.

I am coming with you, the flames assured, and the storm calmed. The flames glowed.

The glow filled the void until Harry could feel his hands on his father’s face again. He opened his eyes immediately, ignoring the moisture he felt on his cheeks. Harry’s heart dropped.

Remus had moved away and Severus’ eyes were closed again. His father was silent.

“No,” Harry protested angrily. He looked around wildly. “He was there,” he cried while the three adults stared down at him. “He came back! He did!” Harry insisted fiercely.

“Harry,” Remus soothed, speaking as gently as Harry had ever heard him. Harry closed his eyes.

“No,” Harry breathed and not knowing what else to do, he dropped his head on the bed, letting the grief submerge him again.

He said he was coming with me…

Harry felt a hand on the back of his head. His breath hitched against his lungs. He knew that hand.

“Harry,” a ragged voice breathed. Harry's head shot up.

His father was gazing at him, his black eyes warmed almost to gray.

Harry stared at him, not even breathing. And then the past week crashed over him. He made a strangled sound in his throat and he all but collapsed against his father's ribs as a week’s worth of closely guarded emotions overwhelmed him.

The hand tightened its hold against Harry’s hair, allowing him his tears.

1996

Harry didn't know how long he had been lying against Severus' ribs. He was so tired, though, he decided hours could have passed already.

He had kept his emotions carefully in check for days, now, not letting them free even once after he'd first realized his father was alive. And now he felt drained... almost empty.

But even after he'd completely exhausted his tears, Harry just kept his cheek pressed against his father's chest. He didn't want to move. He was afraid it would all turn out to be a dream. But the hand hadn't loosened its grip, and though his stomach wouldn't stay still, Harry slowly brought his head up.

Severus was still there, watching him.

And Harry had no idea what to say. Part of him was so angry he could barely stand to look at the man, while the other part was so giddy he wanted to just throw his arms around his father and then... there was an intense fear.

And the fear wouldn't let him express either one of the other emotions. So he stared.

"Thank you, Harry." His father's voice was rough from disuse, but that didn't have any effect on the warmth in the words.

Harry continued to stare.

His father's pale features softened. "It's all right, Harry," he said gently. "I am really here." Harry blinked slowly, finally realizing he needed to say something or else his father was going to start to think he'd gone mad. So he nodded shakily.

"I know..."

His father moved his hand down to Harry's neck, the tips of his fingers still resting in his hair. "Are you all right?" Severus asked, his eyes filled with concern.

No! he wanted to shout. Of course, I'm not all right, he wanted to rage. You left me, he would have accused. But Harry wasn't going to forget the promise he'd made. He wasn't going to have any more regrets with Severus. Harry nodded again, carefully burying his anger under his shields, refusing to give it purchase.

Severus was still watching him, and his eyes narrowed in appraisal. Harry forced his face to relax. "It's been a rough week," he tried to jest, but it fell flat when he had to look away as the tears threatened him again. "Sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

Severus' fingers found the back of Harry's head again. "Harry, you need not apologize for being distressed. I cannot imagine what you must have endured..." Harry's head snapped around as the deep voice trailed off. Severus' fingers tugged at Harry's hair a bit. "A week?" As he took in his surroundings, his fingers slackened and dropped back to the bed.

Harry sat up. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently, twisting around to call for Pomfrey. Severus' hand gripped Harry's arm; Harry turned back around.

"It seemed as if only an instant had passed," Severus was saying quietly, almost to himself, and Harry could hear the sorrow in his father's words. He tensed against the hold on his arm. Severus seemed to focus on Harry again, and he loosed his grip. "It is no matter, of course, but why are we not in the Hospital Wing?"

"Madam Pomfrey brought you down here yesterday," Harry explained with a shrug. "She said it's easier to recover in familiar surroundings," he added, watching his father carefully for signs that he felt Harry's presence in his room an invasion.

But his father simply nodded. "And so it was, it seems." His eyes moved to the door as it opened quietly.

"Severus, wonderful to have you back, my boy," Dumbledore greeted cheerfully as he came in with Pomfrey. Harry bit back a less than tactful request for both of them to leave. His father was watching him, so he smiled.

"How do you feel, Severus?" Pomfrey asked as she came to stand next to Harry. Then, she glanced down at him. "Wouldn't you like to get up off the floor and stand up, Mr. Potter?" she asked, as though surprised to find him there still. Harry flushed as he hastily scrambled to his feet. He looked away from his father's slight frown.

"I feel fine," Severus said brusquely, his eyes narrowed at the mediwitch.

Pomfrey raised a brow. "Hmmm," she murmured as she waved her wand up and down over his prone form. Then, she nodded. "I believe you might sit up for awhile, though it really is quite late," she added thoughtfully, turning to Harry. "Mr. Potter, you really should get to sleep soon, if—"

"Thank you, Poppy," Severus interrupted abruptly, "but I believe I can attend to my son's bedtime." Harry blushed a bit at the childish word, though he couldn't stop the tiny smile that worked its way to his lips.

"Well," Pomfrey huffed, "I would think you would appreciate how exhausted your son is, Severus! He's barely slept for any decent length of time in almost a week, and I haven't been able to get him to eat anything. I've had to Spell Nutritive Potions into him!"

Harry bunched his fingers into fists. A Nutritive Potion? He would have liked nothing better than to shout at the presumptuous mediwitch, but his father had trained his gaze on him, his eyes narrowed. Harry watched warily as Severus turned back to Pomfrey.

"I will take care of him, now," he assured her, and Harry's insides twitched.

"See that you do, Severus, or he'll end up in the infirmary. And, quite frankly, I've seen enough of both of you to last me at least the rest of term."

"No doubt," Severus agreed dryly.

Harry thought he heard the mediwitch muttering something about bad-tempered Potions masters not changing a bit, while she carefully maneuvered Severus into a sitting position. But she was perfectly professional again when she'd finished, asking briskly, "Do you feel any pain?"

"No."

"Excellent," she said crisply, and then she quickly detailed the litany of injuries Severus had experienced, telling him that he no longer needed any sort of support from her Life Charm, and that the potions he would take from now on were only to help him regain his strength more fully. "You're to take it slowly," she warned. "Tomorrow, if you are feeling well enough, you may get out of bed for a short time. I wouldn't recommend taking up your classes again for at least a week. Possibly longer, if you feel you need more time—"

Harry had a feeling that the mediwitch would have rambled on for quite some time if Dumbledore hadn't broken in gently, "I'm sure Severus will let you know if he needs your services, Poppy."

Pomfrey's mouth snapped shut, and with a final pointed glare between Harry and his father, she marched from the room.

Dumbledore was smiling as he added to Severus, "When you are feeling up to it, Severus, we will, of course, need to discuss recent events."

"Naturally," Severus intoned, his gaze level. "Now, if you will excuse us, Albus," he continued, his tone hardening a bit, "I do believe my son and I would appreciate some privacy."

Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "Certainly, Severus. I will check back tomorrow," he said cheerfully. He nodded to both of them in turn. "Good night." And then, the headmaster left them, his puce robes swishing merrily against the stone floors.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Severus wasted no time in asking, "When was the last time you ate?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I, er, can't remember," he admitted uneasily, wishing he didn't have to start annoying his father, already. But Severus didn't look annoyed at all. He simply nodded, his face passive.

"And when did you sleep last?" he inquired, as though asking for the time.

"Well," Harry hedged, "I've sort of just been sleeping off and on... in here." He gestured to the desk chair that had been shoved off to the side earlier.

His father raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then his features softened again. Harry, less wary now that Severus didn't seem perturbed about his inability to take care of himself, and hoping that it would please him, he explained, "I was taking care of you."

A small smile touched his father's lips. "I appreciate that, Harry," he said softly, and Harry grinned, the quiet affirmation making his emotions tip closer to giddy. Severus pointed to the middle of the bed. "Contrary to Madam Pomfrey's rather tactless suggestion, you do not need to stand."

Harry stared at him. His father wanted him to sit on the bed with him?

"I don't want to jostle you, though," he said, tentatively, feeling strangely shy at the idea of plopping himself on the bed.

His father's eyes glinted with amusement. "I assure you, I am perfectly fine." Harry eyed the space next to his father. "Sit, Harry," Severus commanded lightly after a quiet moment. Harry walked slowly around the end of the bed and perched delicately on the edge, twisting uncomfortably so that he was facing his father. Severus' lips twitched.

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable sitting in the middle," he suggested. When Harry hesitated, Severus assured him, "If there was any further danger, Madam Pomfrey would not have given me leave to get out of bed."

"Not until tomorrow," Harry corrected immediately. Severus raised his eyebrow at Harry's unintentionally stern tone while Harry carefully moved closer.

"Yes, Healer Potter," his father said with an obedient nod when Harry was settled, his voice lilting, and all at once, Harry's face crumpled. Severus stiffened. "Harry?" he queried, placing his hand on Harry's knee.

Harry swallowed and shook his head, looking away. "It's nothing."

Severus applied a bit of pressure to Harry's knee; Harry brought his eyes back up. "Whatever you may be feeling right now, I would like to hear it," Severus said. Harry bit his lip, not wanting to talk about what he was feeling, but wanting even less to give his father a reason to think he didn't trust him.

He twisted a crease into the blanket. "It... just reminded me that everyone knows, now," Harry said quietly, studying the crease carefully as he unfolded it and then creased it again.

"You would prefer they do not?"

Harry's eyes shot up. His father was frowning slightly. Harry shook his head vehemently, igniting the headache that had gathered behind his eyes.

"No," he said, much louder than he'd meant to. He lowered his voice instantly. "No... I'm relieved. I hated pretending," he said, some anger creeping its way into his voice. He quickly stifled it. He slouched a bit, bringing his fingers up to work the tension between his eyebrows.

"Headache?" Severus questioned instantly, cutting off Harry's further attempt to explain. Harry nodded resignedly. He'd had a headache for the better part of the past six days; he was well used to it.

Without even pausing, Severus stretched his fingers out and called, "Accio Headache Relieving Potion."

Harry watched in fascination as the door opened the tiniest crack and a little glass vial whizzed through and into Severus' outstretched hand. He gave it to Harry. Without waiting to be told, Harry slugged it back, grimacing at the taste. Why did potions always have to be so foul? Shaking his head a bit, he glanced down at the vial, wondering what to do with it, now. Severus plucked it out of his hand, and in the next instant, it had vanished.

"Can you teach me that?" Harry asked abruptly. "Wandless magic, I mean." That would really be a surprise for Voldemort, he mused as his father nodded.

"I can," Severus affirmed. And then, when Harry didn't say anything else, he prodded, "I would still like to know what was troubling you a moment ago." Right. Harry should have known he wouldn't be so easily distracted.

"It was just when you said Potter," he stressed the name, wishing his eyes would quit watering every time he tried to speak. Who the hell cared about this right now? "Well, even Mrs. Weasley didn't really like the idea..." he tried to explain. Severus' face had darkened into a scowl.

"What did she say to you?" he demanded. Harry shook his head again, not wanting his father's ire directed anywhere near Ginny's mum.

"Nothing... I mean, it's all right. She was only concerned about me." Realizing too late that Severus would probably not appreciate that others were concerned about the idea of him being Harry's father, he tried to backtrack, "I mean, I think she just—"

"Harry," Severus interrupted, and Harry stilled, "the majority of the wizarding world will not take this news well. Though it concerns no one save you and I, many will be very angry on your behalf."

Harry frowned. "But I'm happy you're my father."

A small smile touched Severus' lips, and Harry couldn't help but wonder at the excessive upturning of the normally still lips.

"I am pleased to hear it," Severus told him.

Harry smiled, but then, as he studied his father's pale face, he remembered why he would certainly be defending him. He bit his lip. "How did Voldemort find out?" he asked. With a dizzying rush, he pushed himself up to clench the blanket over Severus' legs, asking frantically, "Was it me? That night I—"

"No," his father interrupted brusquely. A muscle near his left eye twitched. "It was not you," he stated more forcefully than he seemed to be intending. "I let my shields down for a brief instant while I was sleeping."

Harry, shocked beyond reason, gripped the blanket tighter for an instant and then unclenched his fingers, leaving a scarred dent in the smooth fabric. He leaned back on his thighs, gazing at his father. "Oh," was all he could say. Severus Snape, who had mastered Occlumency so spectacularly, a man who had fooled Voldemort and all his followers for years, had let his guard down? Harry couldn't think of a more unlikely scenario.

Leaning forward on his knees a bit, he studied Severus' wan features. "But how can that be possible?" he asked, bewildered. It made no sense. Why would Voldemort even have any reason to be poking around in his loyal follower's head for signs of Harry Potter?

Severus averted his eyes briefly before he answered, "I have been distracted of late." Harry felt a surge of pity; his father sounded so uncomfortable. He obviously felt guilt over what had happened. So Harry patted his arm comfortingly.

"It's all right."

Severus shifted his eyes forward again, and Harry thought he looked satisfied. Harry felt a moment of confusion, but then his father's features changed to that almost-smile he'd been wearing since he first opened his eyes, and Harry relaxed.

"You are extremely pale, Harry. It might be wise for you to get some rest," Severus said abruptly, and Harry had to readjust to the change in topic before he could form a coherent reply.

"I'm all right," Harry lied, shaking his head and realizing that it felt strange not to feel a dull thud in his temples.

But Severus shook his head briefly and then narrowed his eyes as he studied Harry. "It is likely you do not even realize how exhausted you are. Your eyes are half-closed, Harry," he chided.

Were they really? Harry lifted his glasses up a bit to rub at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He supposed he could use some sleep, but he didn't want to leave. He also didn't want to argue with his father.

"All right," he agreed, his throat tightening. He was being ridiculous, he knew. After all, he could see his father again in the morning. He nodded, the stupid tears blurring his vision again. "Good night, then, I guess," he managed, trying to make himself slide closer to the edge of the bed to leave, but his legs wouldn't obey.

"Harry, you do not need to leave."

Severus' voice was infinitely gentle. Harry smashed his lips together, and then, with one quick motion, he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes in frustration. What was wrong with him, anyway?

Harry nodded as he pulled in a shaky breath. "Okay," he sniffled, feeling entirely embarrassed by his display. Strangely, though, Severus didn't even seem to notice.

Severus reached over and propped one of the extra pillows up against the headboard, indicating with his hand that Harry should move toward it. Harry stared at the pillow. He couldn't seriously be suggesting he sleep in here... could he? He was much too old to be crawling into his father's bed like a frightened child.

"Erm..."

"It would be more comfortable up here with a pillow than it will be if you turn into an unconscious puddle in the middle of the bed," Severus said lightly. As Harry continued to stare, Severus assured him, "There is nothing wrong with your desire to be with me right now. I would appreciate your company as well." And the damned tears sprung up again to Harry's eyes.

He did his best to ignore them this time as he nodded. He turned around and quickly scooted backward, propelling himself with his feet until he was resting against the soft pillow. He pressed his folded arms into his stomach.

"Don't you want to sleep, though?" Harry asked quickly, trying to cover the intensity he was feeling with the casual question.

Severus' eyes glinted in amusement. "I have essentially been asleep for a week. I believe I will be able to..."

A week.

His father’s been gone a week. A whole week, and even so, he had muttered to himself that it hadn't been enough. It seemed as if only an instant had passed, his father had said. Harry began to feel lightheaded.

His father had obviously wanted to stay with his mum, and Harry had forced him to leave. He obviously regretted leaving. Of course he did. He hadn't wanted Harry to come find him...

--

Harry's breath was coming almost in gasps as he stared at Severus. Severus twisted toward his son anxiously. "Harry?" he breathed, ignoring the protests from every one of his muscles. Harry didn't appear to have heard him. He had gone from pale to absolutely white, and Severus was fairly certain his son was beginning to hyperventilate.

Willing himself to remain calm, Severus grasped Harry around his bicep and pulled him swiftly into his side. Gritting his teeth against the screeching ache in his limbs, he wrapped his free arm around Harry's shoulder and tugged until his son's head was securely tucked into his chest.

"It's all right, Harry," Severus spoke quietly, remembering the way he'd soothed Harry after Lupin had been almost killed by Voldemort's poison, modulating his tone to match the one he'd used that night. "I am right here... it's all right," he repeated over and over, keeping his arms firmly around his agitated son, and gradually, Harry's frantic breathing began to calm.

"I'm sorry," Harry said hoarsely, and Severus felt a pang that Harry should feel the need to apologize for an emotional display.

"Harry, as I have already assured you, you do not need to apologize for—" he began, but Harry was shaking his head, and Severus hoped fleetingly that his son's headache hadn't been renewed.

"No, I'm sorry... sorry that I made you come back."

Severus gaped down at him. "Why would you—" he began in bewilderment, but his son interrupted him again.

"I told you it was all right, if you wanted to stay... but I couldn't..." Harry choked back a sob, and Severus' heart wrenched. "...I couldn't just let you go."

Severus had no idea what Harry was talking about, but he certainly was not going to let his son apologize for helping to bring him back.

"Harry," he said, hardening his tone a bit, and Harry stopped talking. "You do not need to apologize for helping me return to you." Harry was silent. "What would make you think you should?" Severus pressed after a minute had passed.

"Dumbledore said that Voldemort drove your soul out," Harry whispered, intermittent tremors still shaking Severus along with him. Severus' eyebrows rose, surprised that Albus would have mentioned anything about souls and Voldemort in the same context.

Since Severus did not want Harry to know the full extent of what had happened to him on Halloween, he though over his response carefully. "He was intent that I should be fully destroyed, and that included my soul," Severus confirmed, not understanding the connection that might have to Harry's guilt over his return.

Harry was silent as he seemed to gather his thoughts. Severus waited patiently. "And Remus... Remus said you would have gone to find mum." Harry's voice was only a whisper.

"I did not seek your mother out, but yes, she was there," Severus told his son, remembering with a pang the moment he had touched Lily's face again. It seemed so long ago...

Harry nodded jerkily into Severus' chest. "You said it seemed like only an instant... I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with her."

Severus frowned, even though Harry couldn't see. "Harry, you misunderstood. It was not regret for myself, but concern that you were waiting for me for such an extended period."

Harry's fingers gripped against Severus' nightshirt in a decidedly agitated motion. "But then, why didn't you come back?"

A deep sadness echoed through Severus as he looked down at the dejected form of his son; he was still so unsure. Severus ran a thumb down Harry's cheek as he offered, "I am sorry to have put you through so much pain. It is difficult to understand." Harry tensed against him. Severus held back the urge to sigh, feeling as though they'd stepped back into September. "I believe I was in a sort of limbo between life and death. Your mother was with me, and I was content.

"I didn't have any idea what was happening here. All I saw was Lily," he admitted quietly. "And then, I sensed you... You were calling me. And all at once, Harry, there was nothing but misery as I did not understand that I could answer you." Severus could feel Harry's ragged breaths as well as feel the warm moisture of Harry's fresh tears, and he soothed, "When your mother explained that I could return, you cannot know how relieved I felt."

Harry made a noise that Severus couldn't decipher. "It must have been a really hard decision... I understand," he said shakily.

Severus' arm tightened around Harry, his other hand coming automatically to smooth Harry's fringe. "You do not understand, Harry," he said in some exasperation, wishing his son wouldn't continue to doubt him. "There was not a moment's indecision when I knew I could come back. There was no decision at all... neither for your mother, nor for myself."

Harry was quiet for a moment before he looked up at Severus and asked, his voice sounding much more hopeful than Severus would have preferred, "So, you really wanted to come back, then?"

Severus chuckled, low in his chest, and looking straight into Harry's emerald eyes, he assured his son, "Yes, Harry. I wanted to come back." Harry's face melted into a somewhat shy smile.

"Good," he said. He dropped his head back onto Severus' chest, wriggling a bit, apparently attempting to get more comfortable and forgetting his earlier hesitation about the possible childishness of a sixteen-year-old climbing into bed next to his father.

Severus shook his head in amusement and carded his fingers through Harry's dark hair and was astonished as he was filled with an overwhelming urge to kiss the top of the messy head. Not quite sure what to attribute this strange feeling to, Severus gave into it nonetheless, dropping his head quickly and placing a rough kiss against his son's raven hair. Harry inhaled sharply, and then, when Severus didn't move away, he exhaled slowly, finally fully relaxing into Severus' side.

Severus, warmed through by this simple gesture, said gruffly, "I should have said this before I left on Halloween, but I did not know how..." Harry stilled beneath his arm. Severus drew in a breath, wanting his son to understand. "When I thought I was going to die, I only had one regret. And although I am certain you realize it already, Harry, I want you to hear from my own lips that I love you."

Severus stayed very still; Harry shifted beside him.

"I love you, too, Dad," he said quietly, sounding rather hoarse. Another pause, and a whispered, "Thanks," floated up to Severus' sharp ears. A smile touched Severus' lips as he brushed his hand over Harry's head again.

They were quiet, and Severus enjoyed the soft rustle of Harry's breathing as he waited for him to speak.

"While you were unconscious, Pomfrey said it might help if I talked to you."

"And did you?" Severus asked, matching his tone to Harry's.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah... I told you how I almost failed my Transfiguration test," he admitted sheepishly.

Severus was glad Harry could not see his face. He had known about the abysmal grade as soon as Minerva had finished grading the exams. He had planned on addressing it only after Halloween was far behind them. He hadn't wanted to have any reason to argue with Harry before he left.

"You were a bit distracted," Severus allowed, realizing that he still had no desire to discuss this particular topic. His eyes flicked to Harry in surprise as he snorted.

"Yeah, with Exploding Snap," he told him breezily.

Startled by his son's honesty, Severus wasn't sure how to respond. He felt oddly gratified that Harry would admit to it; it showed a measure of trust that Severus was not used to from anyone. He was not inclined to break that trust after what Harry had gone through on his behalf, so he settled for a murmured, "Indeed."

Harry looked up at him, obviously surprised by his response. He smirked up at him. "I'll have to remember how easy-going you've become the next time I think about playing games instead of studying," he said cheekily.

Severus raised a brow. "You do realize that my current demeanor may only be a temporary side-effect of my recent trip beyond the veil," he retorted. Harry's forehead puckered, as though seriously thinking about it. He nodded slowly.

"I suppose you could be right... I'll probably have to do a bit of research on that theory, though," he mused playfully.

Severus smirked as he narrowed his eyebrows in feigned menace. "I do not believe you will like the results of any such research." Harry laughed softly.

"I know I wouldn't," he agreed, still smiling, and then his expression brightened further. "I Transfigured my pyjamas into clothes, though... Do you think you could get McGonagall to give me extra credit?" he asked eagerly, and Severus was not sure if he was serious or not. He shook his head, though.

"No."

Harry smiled before leaning his head against him again. They sat in silence for a long time, and Severus was beginning to wonder if Harry had drifted off into a much-needed sleep when he suddenly said, his voice very quiet, "When I first saw you in the infirmary, I thought you had died..." Severus' throat tightened, and he instinctively pulled Harry closer, wanting to transfer his son's pain to himself.

"I sort of lost it, I guess," Harry continued, and Severus could hear the self-reproach in Harry's words.

"Harry, it would have been remarkable had you had any other reaction," Severus told him, and he felt Harry's head bobbing up and down.

"Yeah... I remembered letting my shields fall because I was so upset... but later, when I was... coherent, I guess... my shields were up again." He paused and then added with a definite note of excitement, "I did it without even realizing it!"

Warmth spread through Severus at his son's quiet pride in his own abilities, and he felt as well a rush of relief that Harry had finally achieved mastery of Occlumency, especially considering what had led to Severus' torture on Halloween.

Wanting to make sure Harry heard him, Severus nudged the back of his son's head gently. Harry looked up at him, his green eyes shining with expectancy. Severus pulled his lips up slightly and said softly, "Occlumency is not an easy skill to master. It is, in fact, not something most witches and wizards can master in the least degree. I am proud of you, Harry."

Harry's face lit up, and Severus enjoyed the sensation of having given his son a reason to be so delighted. With mere words, he mused as he gazed at Harry. Harry really did require so little. The thought both saddened and encouraged Severus.

"Thanks," Harry said with an enthusiastic grin. "I thought you'd like that," he tried to say around a yawn, and then he shook his head firmly with a frown, as though attempting to force the exhaustion away.

"Perhaps you had better try to sleep, now," Severus suggested, unable to hide his amusement. Harry shrugged, dropping his head again.

"Nah. I'm not really tired," he insisted, though another yawn belied his words.

Knowing his insistence to the contrary would be of little use, Severus didn't answer as he brought his hand again to brush lightly over his son's hair, moving it slowly to rest against Harry's cheek. He kept it there even after he could feel Harry's breaths deepen and steady with sleep. Severus closed his eyes, listening again to his son's even breathing and finding immense peace in its rhythm.

1979

Lily knelt in front of her husband, waiting for him to let her know he was ready to begin. Her stomach was twisted painfully and she felt vaguely ill, although she knew she couldn’t contribute that solely to what they were about to do. No, morning sickness was most likely to blame.

As she watched Severus Occluding his mind and grounding himself, she felt the familiar twinge of uneasiness that she had not yet told him about the baby. But Lily knew if she had, they wouldn’t have ever reached this point. Severus would never have agreed to try to the Charm. She would tell him, as soon as he’d taken the Mark. He would be angry, certainly but it was nothing compared to Severus deciding her life was in too much danger if she stayed with him. And it didn’t matter anyway, Lily told herself firmly. The Charm would work and there would be no more need for all this secrecy.

“I am ready,” Severus finally said, his voice rough. Lily looked up at Albus, who smiled and nodded encouragingly. She turned back to her husband; he was watching her carefully. Before he could ask her again if she was sure she wanted to do this, Lily wrapped her small fingers around his wrist and pulled his left arm toward her.

She brought her wand up and pressed its tip gently into her husband’s flesh as she whispered, “Impentribiilus Morsmordre,” and then Severus joined in, his voice soft and seductive as their voices blended together, their eyes locked, “…Anima Evictum Morsmordre, Tom Marvolo Riddle…Anima Expulsum…” Over and over they chanted the words, while Lily pulled her wand over the entire surface of Severus’ arm from wrist to elbow.

“…Anima Evictum Morsmordre, Tom Marvolo Riddle…Anima Expulsum…” and a blue mist encompassed Severus’ arm, glowing and pulsing gently. “Anima Expulsum,” they breathed together as the mist melted slowly into Severus’ flesh.

Lily’s eyes had not left her husband’s. His black eyes were haunted, dark with shadows and Lily, paying no mind to Albus, standing just behind Severus, dropped Severus’ wrist and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck; she leaned into his chest and Severus pulled her close. It was done. Even though Severus had no idea…their child would be safe.

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

1996

A hulking man kicked at his father, right in the face. Severus' skull cracked eerily against the ground and without pausing, the big man’s booted heel connected again with the face. Bright red blood splattered the dusty black boots. The man’s twin joined in, as he always did, bringing an almost identical boot toward Severus'. More blood broke free. And there was nothing Harry could do; he watched in horror as the masks assaulted his father.

Harry!

Long silver hair filled Harry's vision, whipping gently in the light breeze. There was another sharp crack and Harry’s stomach turned over. The man with the silver mane knelt down, drawing his wand up the smooth black fabric, resting the wood against the crimson throat, beginning the deadly chant…

Hear your father’s screams, Harry.

“No! Dad!” Harry screamed, jerking himself awake. He began flailing wildly, trying desperately to get out of the bed to get to his father, before he realized he was still on the sofa and Severus' was hovering in front of his own, his black eyes stormy with undisguised concern.

“Harry, it’s all right,” his father was saying and it sounded like he had been repeating it as some sort of refrain. Harry pulled in a shaky breath and struggled to sit up. Severus helped him, guiding him gently until he was balanced again. Severus was kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa. Harry took his glasses off with one hand and ran his other hand over his face, which was beaded with perspiration.

Severus handed him a soft, damp cloth and Harry didn’t even bother to wonder where he’d gotten it from. He allowed Severus to take his glasses and then Harry leaned his face against the cool material, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Harry felt his father’s steady hand on the back of his head and he shuddered.

“Nightmare?” his father asked quietly. Harry nodded against the soothing cloth. The hand applied a quiet pressure. “Have you had them often in the past week?” Harry shrugged.

“…some…” he muttered. He hadn’t really slept enough to have nightmares….

“Was it about my time with Voldemort on Halloween?” Harry brought his eyes away from the cloth, widened by now with surprise.

“How did you know?” he croaked, his voice still scratchy from sleep. Severus brought his hand to Harry’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Lupin told me you saw what happened,” he answered in a calm voice.

“Oh.” He should have known Remus would tell his father that. He sighed. “I really should apologize to Remus for that…” he mused. Severus raised his brows. Harry frowned in thought. “I sorta remember shoving him or something when he tried to tell me you were alive.” His father smiled that half-smile of his.

“Lupin is likely not expecting an apology,” he pointed out as he handed Harry’s glasses back.

“Yeah…but really, I’ve been pretty unbearable…actually I shouted at him a fair bit…” he said with chagrin as he adjusted his glasses. His father scowled.

“What did Lupin do to you that caused you to shout at him?” he asked darkly. Harry almost laughed.

“Oh you know…ordered me to start eating, tried to force me to sleep, to get dressed and the like,” he said airily. “You really should be nicer to him, you know,” Harry said thoughtfully. Severus blinked. Harry nodded sagely.

“I admit I didn’t really listen all that well, but I’m pretty certain judging from what I feel like now, I must have been a quite a head case.” His father frowned.

“You were not a head case,” he corrected stiffly. “You were grieving…it is not the same thing,” he said firmly. Harry shrugged. He looked away from his father’s intense gaze.

“I was pretty convinced you’d want to stay with mum,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse again. Severus gripped his knee. Harry swallowed before continuing, “Remus even yelled at Dumbledore. Dumbledore was ready to just give up on you...and Remus told him you wouldn’t just leave me…and he said it again to me as well when I wasn’t certain what to do.”

Severus’ hand tightened against Harry’s knee. “What do you mean ‘when you weren’t certain’?” he demanded softly, his voice strained. Harry slid his eyes back to his father’s taut face.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to come back…I didn’t know if I shouldn’t just let you go,” he said honestly and Harry thought his father looked rather ill. He rushed on to reassure him, “I know now there was no decision, just as you said, but I didn’t know it then,” he explained. Severus nodded, still looking waxen. Then he got up slowly, his joints creaking; he sat next to Harry.

He took the cloth from Harry’s hand and dampened it again with a bit of water from his wand before handing it back and then asked, “Did you tell Lupin or Poppy about your nightmares?” Harry shook his head.

“I didn’t really sleep enough for them to last very long,” he admitted, and he felt a bit better with the honest answer.

“How much did you see?” Severus asked, his voice very gentle. Harry twisted his fingers in the wet cloth.

“All of it,” he whispered. He felt his father stiffen beside him; the cushion jerked with the movement. “He took your wand and then they started kicking you-” he gasped once before adding, “I heard him in my head…I heard both of you-” He shook convulsively, cutting off the rest of what he meant to say. Hear your father’s screams, Harry…

Severus put a hand over Harry’s, who by now had twisted the cloth into nothing resembling it original shape. They sat there together for many quiet minutes.

“I did not realize at the time that we had any sort of connection,” Severus finally murmured quietly.

Harry glanced at him swiftly before asking tentatively, “Could I hear you…because of what Dumbledore said about mum’s Charm connecting us?” Severus gazed at him; Harry flushed. “I guess I heard a bit more than I said…” Severus squeezed his hand lightly before pulling away, bringing the mangled cloth with him.

Severus tapped his black-clad knee with his forefinger a few times in thought, before answering slowly, “I cannot be certain, but I do not think I was consciously calling for you,” he paused before adding, “I was thinking about you however.” For some reason, that made Harry tense.

“Voldemort began systematically breaking through my mental defenses as soon as I was weak enough physically.” Harry flinched. Severus stopped speaking, watching Harry’s reactions carefully.

“I’m all right,” Harry forced himself to say although his father didn’t seem inclined to believe him.

He continued very carefully, “I did not realize it before, but it is possible that Voldemort used whatever mental connection we might have, as a conduit of sorts to reach you.” Severus grimaced. “I should have avoided thinking about you. I am sorry, Harry,” he offered. Harry reached his hand out, taking his turn to comfort his father, giving his arm a quiet squeeze.

Severus' lip lifted in a sort of sad smile before speaking again, “The connection may have little to do with the Charm, however. Your mother and I shared a similar mental connection…it happens on occasion when two people bond, especially those skilled in the mental arts.” Harry smiled at his father’s ability to speak without any self-importance.

“So, it’s more to do with having been in each other’s minds then?” he clarified. Severus frowned.

“It is most likely a combination of the two, I should think.”

Harry nodded, leaning forward to ask, “But how did we even get some sort of soul connection anyway; and what did Dumbledore mean ‘all the pieces of Voldemort’s soul’?” Harry knew he was incriminating himself further, but his father seemed little concerned.

Severus did look uncomfortable however, before he said quickly, “Before we continue this conversation, I need you to understand that it is extremely dangerous for anyone to have this knowledge. Albus only told your mother and me when your mother started working on the Impentribiilus Charm; with the exception of Lupin, not one of the Order members knows about this.” His father was speaking much faster than usual, his hands held very stiffly in his lap.

Harry understood immediately what his father was trying so hard not to ask. And though, he would have fought this particular issue until he came up victor only weeks ago…now...well somehow, it didn’t seem nearly as important that his friends know everything. So Harry nodded. “I’ll keep it between us,” he promised. Severus, looking vastly relieved, inclined his head before plunging right in with the explanation and Harry was warmed by the thought that his father obviously trusted him.

“You understand the basics of the Impentribiilus Charm, from Ms. Granger’s research, correct?” Harry nodded.

“Mum cast it on your arm, right? So that the Dark Mark couldn’t bind itself to you, like it does with Voldemort’s Death Eaters.” Severus nodded.

“I can hear Voldemort’s call, but the Mark doesn’t burn the way it is supposed to,” his father clarified.

“Hermione read about it in a book Flitwick loaned her,” Harry told him. Severus got an odd look at his face. “What?” Harry wanted to know. Severus shook his head.

“Your mother found the original Charm in a book Filius gave her,” he said quietly.

“Do you still have it?” Harry asked eagerly, though there was really no reason for him to want to see it; Hermione still had her copy.

“It is with some of your mother’s things, in the safe house Albus created for us. There are a few things that belonged to James there as well,” Severus told him. Harry grinned, unexpectedly delighted.

“Can we go there sometime?” he asked. His father looked surprised, as though the thought had never occurred to him but after a moment, he nodded.

Harry smiled again, before continuing with his questions, “There was a paragraph that described a way to use the Charm so that it would actually have some power over the person it was cast on...Voldemort, in this case, after he cast the Mark…that you could do something that would make him helpless, but you said you didn’t because mum had to activate that part, yeah?” His father nodded.

“The book, as you know, gave no specifics but your mother devised an extension to the original on her own.” Severus’ eyes had taken on a faraway look as he continued in a distant voice, “After your mother cast Impentribiilus, we engaged in a sort of ritual chant. Once Voldemort cast the Dark Mark, we hoped the Mark would form a connection between Voldemort and myself. Once your mother and I gave the command, your mother’s Charm would have been activated.” His father paused to look Harry straight in the eye. “It was not meant to render him helpless, however. We designed it so that Voldemort would have been completely destroyed." Harry felt his spirits sink; he had hoped there would still be a way...

“Would have been?” he repeated, sounding much more anxious than he’d meant to. “What were you and Dumbledore so excited about then?” he wanted to know. Severus raised a brow.

“Excited,” he echoed, as though he’d swallowed a particularly foul potion. Harry smirked while he waited for an answer.

“Since your mother and I would have needed to activate the Charm together, there would have to be a momentary connection between us…Albus believes, based on the fact that I was unable to leave this world completely, that you and I forged a connection with one another…one that was greater than intended, thereby bypassing your mother completely.  It is only an inference, but it is possible that instead of binding the Charm to your mother, the role of caster was passed along to you…she was expecting you at the time,” he emphasized and Harry’s pulse quickened.

“So that means that I might be able to activate the Charm?” he asked eagerly, barely able restrain his emotions. When his father nodded, he demanded, “What are we waiting for then?”

“Harry,” his father shook his head, with some exasperation, though he looked mildly amused. “It would be extremely foolish to simply make an attempt without any further research.” Harry sagged. But of course it made sense.

“Yeah,” he nodded, disappointed, “but we’ll never be certain it will work, will we?” he pressed. His father frowned.

“Albus is working on it,” he assured Harry, “though in your current state, any attempt would most certainly fail. Therefore it would be wise to simply focus your energies on recovery…a recovery which will include eating more than four spoonfuls of porridge,” he said with a mild glare. Harry groaned, slumping back against the cushions. The thought of food was more nauseating than even he had thought possible.

“I’m still full from breakfast,” he attempted to plea and then he laughed with surprise as his father snorted in response.

“Naturally,” Severus returned with tempered sarcasm, “as the porridge was refit with magical expansion properties.”

“Maybe you really should put some in and that way I won't have to eat as much,” Harry challenged around his chuckle. His father shook his head, his eyes glinting with humour.

“In the time it would take to invent such a ridiculous formulation, you would likely be back to eating triple portions in the Great Hall and it would therefore be quite useless.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I think you’re thinking of Ron; I don’t eat that much,” he denied. Severus raised an eyebrow in challenge. “All right, so maybe I do,” Harry conceded with a smirk.

“Excellent,” his father approved with a somewhat grand nod, “then I’ll expect as much at lunch.” Harry made a face. Not bloody likely, he thought. But he didn’t say anything, not with his father gazing at him expectantly. “You should get cleaned up before we eat…have a shower perhaps,” he suggested and at Harry’s sheepish look, he added mildly, “I am not quite as unobservant as you might like to believe.” Harry had no trouble believing that.

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

“Good Afternoon, Severus,” Lupin greeted from the darkened corridor.

“Lupin,” Severus inclined his head as he gestured for Lupin to enter. He held out his hand for Lupin’s robes and hung them neatly on the set of hooks next to the wooden door.

“Is Harry asleep?” Lupin enquired, looking around the room, as though he expected Harry to have found a place to hide.

“He is in the shower,” Severus informed him mildly. Lupin let out a small chuckle, causing Severus to eye him speculatively.

“Well, you did at least manage to get him to wash up, I guess,” Lupin said with amusement. “Have you had the same success with feeding him?” he asked, still smiling.

“We have reached an understanding,” Severus informed the werewolf with perhaps a bit more haughtiness than was necessary. Lupin raised his eyebrows.

“Really? So he ate breakfast then?” he pressed. Severus turned away in annoyance. “You could always call in Ginny,” Lupin suggested when Severus didn't answer. “She was wonderful with him in the Infirmary.” Severus bristled.

“I do not need Ms. Weasley’s help to get my son to eat,” he said coldly. Lupin chuckled again, though he didn’t comment further. Severus busied himself for a moment tying the rolls of parchment that he’d used to request Harry's assignment. Once finished, he turned slowly and handed one to Lupin, though he knew the gesture was redundant.

“Harry will remain here while he recovers; I would appreciate a list of assignments he’s missed as well as the ones for the upcoming week,” he explained. Lupin smiled ruefully while he took the roll.

“Minerva and Filius taught my classes for me while I were here with Harry, so I’m afraid there was many more essays than I usually give myself,” he said with a small shake of his head. Severus nodded curtly while he attempted to find the words he felt compelled to say.

Firmly Occluding his mind, he said stiffly, “Harry informed me that you were instrumental in helping him decide to attempt to reach me.” Lupin’s face immediately registered surprise but he quickly covered it, shaking his head slightly.

“I just supported his decision, Severus. He wanted to bring you home.” Severus recognized that the werewolf was making an attempt to spare his feelings and the realization made him tense. Ignoring both Lupin’s pathetic ploy and his own discomfort, Severus altered the course of the conversation slightly, “He was also concerned about apologizing to you for his outburst when you insisted I was alive.” Again, Lupin tried and failed to cover his surprise.

“There is no need for an apology, Severus,” Lupin put in quickly, “He was distraught.” Severus nodded, his entire body wracked with disquiet.

“I told him as much,” he acknowledged. For some reason, the werewolf smiled.

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

Once he’d taken a shower that would have won a Muggle speed record, Harry just as quickly toweled his hair off and threw the damp towel in a basket, where it disappeared immediately to be whisked off to the house-elf assigned to these quarters. Harry smiled, as he always did, at the enchantment of magic; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

As soon as he opened the washroom door, he grinned; he heard Remus talking in low tones to Severus.

“Albus seems to think it highly unlikely.” Remus was saying, his tone much firmer than normal.

“Albus will do whatever it might take to make Voldemort’s defeat a reality,” Severus returned, his tone mocking and cold through, though clearly Remus was not the target this time.

“Of course, Severus. He’s infuriately consistent-” he stopped talking abruptly as Harry walked in. “Harry!” he greeted warmly, “how are you?” he asked, moving toward Harry quickly.

“Hey, Remus!” Harry grinned. It was good to see Remus again without the heavy weight of trepidation in his chest. “Are you staying for lunch?” he asked, and though he really did enjoy Remus’ company, it didn’t escape his thoughts that perhaps with Remus around, his father wouldn’t pressure him as much about eating. The overriding nausea had not lifted.

Harry glanced over Remus’ shoulder at his father, who surprisingly needed no prodding. “You may stay if you wish, Lupin,” he acquiesced. Harry turned back to Remus expectantly. His friend smiled and nodded, patting Harry affectionately on the shoulder. Harry grinned.

Harry and Remus sat next to each other at the table while Severus called the kitchens. A platter of food popped into existence. Severus sat across from Harry.

“Ginny asked after you this morning,” Remus told Harry as he began eating his soup; Harry’s heart skittered. He hadn’t spared a thought for his friends in days, but hearing Ginny’s name made him realize how much he missed his fiery girlfriend. Hmm…Ron and Hermione as well for that matter.

“How is she?” he asked, ignoring the scrambled egg and pumpkin juice his father set in front of him. The smell alone…

“She, as well as her brother and Hermione, have all been having quite a time, trying their best not to hex most of the student body.” Harry scowled.

“That bad?”

Remus nodded. “Ginny is rather displeased with Rita Skeeter at the moment.”

“Yeah, I’m not so contented with her myself,” Harry muttered, running his finger absently along the rim of his glass. He brightened as he remembered the reporter's antics during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. “She’s an unregistered Animagus, you know,” he informed them casually. His father and Remus looked startled and then Severus’ dark eyes immediately grew calculating.

“Hermione found out in fourth year,” he told them with a smile, leaving out any details of blackmail…after all, Harry was certain his father could come up with that idea on his own.

Severus after a few moments spent in contemplation, seemed to forget all about the Daily Prophet's star reporter. He was eyeing Harry's plate; Harry sighed.

He attempted a bite of egg, but could only get it halfway to his lips, before the nausea was too much. He shook his head as he delicately returned his fork to his plate, pushing the entire thing away without thinking about it. His father set his fork down and Harry tensed.

“Harry, you need to eat…even if it’s just a few bites,” Severus told him calmly. Harry pursed his lips and shot a nervous glance at Remus, but thankfully Remus wasn’t paying any attention to them.

“I can’t,” Harry said, turning his eyes from his father’s penetrating gaze. His father was quiet for too long and Harry finally looked up. Severus seemed to be deciding the best course of action and Harry desperately hoped whatever conclusion he was coming to wouldn’t involve any sort of lecture, especially not with Remus sitting right next to him.

“Try a few sips of pumpkin juice at least,” he finally said. Harry let a soft sigh of relief and sipped at his juice tentatively. He nursed the glass as he watched his father and Remus polishing off their meals. As soon as they’d finished, Severus excused himself to his lab, saying he needed to pen one more note, while Remus smirked into his teacup.

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

“Didn’t Madame Pomfrey say you were supposed to take it easy?” Harry asked his father critically as he watched him pouring Siphon Berry Juice into a cauldron. Severus didn’t even look up; the Juice continued its smooth sweep into the boiling liquid.

“Poppy is aware of my relaxation methods.”

Harry frowned. “Well, how about sitting down, at least?” he pressed. His father finished emptying his little vial before looking up, his eyes glinting in amusement.

“Excellent idea, Harry,” he approved. He flicked his wand and Harry watched as a stool scooted swiftly toward them. He gasped as it knocked into the back of his knees, forcing him to sit heavily on it.

“Hey!” he objected, but his father had turned back to his cauldron, seeming not to have noticed that the stool had gone astray. Harry thought about getting up, but decided he was too tired and the stool was surprisingly comfortable.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked after watching his father stir the Potion for awhile. Severus pointed to a long white root. “What is it?” Harry wondered.

“Gopherseed Root. Slice it lengthwise, and then into half-inch sections,” Severus directed.

Harry began slicing, carefully holding the knife the way his father had shown him when they’d made the Memory Enhancing Potion together. “So, am I getting credit for this?” Severus gave him a quick look before he turned back to his stirring.

“This sudden interest in your Potions grade is most disconcerting,” he commented. Harry shrugged.

“Well, my Professor is quite strict, you know.”

“I have heard as much,” Severus said dryly. Harry finished chopping and then leaned forward on his forearms a bit to watch his father’s meticulous stirring.

“Do I still have to work with Malfoy?” he asked abruptly. Severus looked up, though his rhythm was not interrupted.

“Yes.” Harry sighed.

“We won’t be able to get any work done, you know. He’ll be a huge prat about this.”

His father smirked a bit. “Not while I am in the room, he will not.” Harry raised a skeptical brow, in an unconscious imitation of his father.

“I can’t really see any of the Slytherins cowering around you,” he informed his father, trying to picture Malfoy quaking as Severus lectured him. He shook his head in wry amusement. Malfoy really didn't seem the type to quake.

His father stopped stirring and gestured for the Roots; Harry handed them over. “Slytherin House in general has always had a less than stellar reputation," He didn’t even pause as he dropped the slices in, one by one, “and for the most part, it has not been earned.”

“So to make up for it, you let them get away with murder?” Harry asked, trying his best to act as though he understood. His father gave him a look.

“The students in my house would no doubt disagree with your assessement,” he said firmly and as his eyes glinted, he added, “There are a few who have had more detentions than even you.”

“Very funny,” Harry said, making a face at his father’s jest. Severus considered him for a moment.

“It will however be most gratifying not to have to issue you anymore false detentions,” he mused as he placed the last section of Root into the cauldron. Harry smiled.

“You’d probably better not give me any real detentions either, though,” he said with smirk, disinclined to be serious at the moment. “Bad press, you know,” he explained, with an airy wave of his hand.

“I will keep that in mind,” Severus agreed, his lips not quite reaching a smile. He gave his stirring rod one final turn before deciding, “Two more hours should be adequate.”

“How do you know how much longer it needs?” Harry asked curiously. Severus gestured for him to move closer to the cauldron; Harry complied.

“A Nutritive Potion needs to be maroon in hue.”

“It’s sort of a dark pink now,” Harry said as he leaned in toward the hissing cauldron, studying the eddies.

“It typically takes approximately two hours for the Siphon Berry Juice to bring the colour to a more uniform maroon. The heat releases the toxins in the Berries, darkening as it does.”

Harry nodded into the cauldron. “So, once it’s maroon, the right amount of toxin has been released,” he concluded.

“Well deduced,” Severus approved and Harry looked up. His father’s face was relaxed into that same expression he’d worn when he’d told Harry he was proud of his Occlumency abilities; Harry grinned.

“Thanks,” Harry said happily, pulling back from the cauldron. The process of brewing was really quite interesting, he decided as they cleaned up together. The Floo flared from the living room just as Harry was replacing the flask of Siphon Berry Juice into his father’s cupboard. He looked toward the sitting room in surprise.

“Who’s that?” he asked. His father didn’t answer and Harry decided the man had a bit of a shifty look about him. Thinking he was imagining it and that their visitor was most likely Dumbledore, Harry followed his father into the sitting room. His mouth fell open in delight as he took in Ginny’s face floating in the Floo.

“If you would step through, Ms. Weasley,” Severus invited, his voice very reserved. Ginny’s head nodded and then she was stepping out onto the rug. Harry covered the distance between them in seconds and engulfed Ginny in a hug; his emotions now firmly held at giddy.

“Harry,” Ginny breathed into his shirt, clearly having lost her breath with Harry’s crushing embrace. He quickly stepped back; she was grinning up at him.

“What are you doing here, Gin?” he demanded excitedly. Ginny glanced behind him; Harry turned. His father was watching them, his eyes more shadowed than they'd been in a long time.

“Your father invited me to dinner,” Ginny explained. Harry’s face lit up. He grinned back at his father.

“Thanks,” he said. Severus nodded before he went to the Floo to order their meals.

Harry, as delighted as he was that Ginny had come to visit, felt a flutter of nervousness at the thought that Ginny would see his inability to eat like a normal person. He was pretty sure his father expected him to be a nutter, but Ginny…

Once their food arrived, Ginny and Severus both began eating, while Harry stared into his bowl of porridge. Come on, Harry scolded himself, just get on with it. He was a Gryffindor for Merlin’s sake, not a bloody Hufflepuff. What was a spot of nausea to a Gryffindor?

Gritting his teeth, Harry spooned up a marginal bit of porridge and forced it down his throat. It was just as disgusting as it had been earlier. But as both his father and Ginny were watching him, Ginny nodding encouragingly, he took another bite. He had to put his spoon down after the fifth bite, as the queasiness was beginning to overtake him again.

“Are you still feeling nauseous?” Severus asked. Harry nodded, wishing he didn’t have to be so weak in front of Ginny. “Accio Stomach Calming Draught,” Severus called abruptly. A vial of full of green Potion flew from the lab to the table. Severus caught it deftly and handed it to Harry. “Drink,” he commanded and Harry did, not daring to look at Ginny.

The vial vanished as soon as he’d finished with it and he glanced over at Ginny when he felt her hand on his arm. She smiled at him, not a trace of pity or disgust in her face. Harry relaxed. “Better?” she asked, his brown eyes warmed with concern, and for the first time Harry wondered if perhaps that warmth in Ginny’s eye could be something more. He smiled at her.

“A bit,” he admitted. She patted his arm and took a few bites of her own meal. “Thanks,” Harry said to his father who nodded and looked pointedly at Harry’s unfinished porridge. Shaking his head in disgruntled amusement, Harry ate slowly, taking his time and somehow, even though he took much longer than either his father or Ginny, he finished almost the entire bowl.

Severus, looking satisfied, waved his wand once over the table and the meal was replaced with a tea service and a plate of biscuits.

“Would you care for tea, Ms. Weasley?” Severus inquired, holding out a cup and saucer for her. She nodded politely and accepted the offering. “Harry?” his father queried but Harry hastily shook his head. Though he didn’t feel nauseous anymore, the porridge was sitting like a rock, in his stomach. Severus nodded his understanding and helped himself to tea. Ginny nibbled on a biscuit, while Harry started quizzing her on everything that had been happening at Hogwarts.

“It was quite an effort to get anyone to believe that Professor Snape hadn’t died,” she shook her head in amazement as she answered Harry's final question. “How anyone can be so thick as to believe anything Rita Skeeter writes…the woman’s a menace,” she declared, her voice filled with animosity. Harry smiled as her lip curled up into a fair imitation of his father’s famous sneer.

“What finally convinced them?” Harry wondered. Ginny laughed.

“Professor McGonagall had quite a fit this morning at breakfast. She was practically shouting from the Head Table that you were fine…both of you. She said that she has never seen either one of you so happy, and then she threatened to take fifty points if anyone so much as mentioned Rita Skeeter or her slanderous article again.”

Harry and Severus stared at her. Harry was the first to find his voice. “McGonagall?” he parroted. “She was defending us?” he asked in shock. Ginny nodded fervently.

“Harry, she was practically spitting, she was so angry. It’s a good thing too. Half the Slytherins and Gryffindors were threatening duels in the corridors.” She shook her head. “Colin Creevey hexed a Slytherin in Hagrid’s class,” she told them. “The Slytherin, Septimus something or other, announced that Professor Snape should have just killed you himself and been done with it.” Severus made a low snarling sound, his hands fisted on the table, and Harry did not fancy being this Septimus bloke.

Wanting to distract his father, Harry pushed up from the table. “We’re brewing a Nutritive Potion,” he told Ginny, beckoning her to accompany him. “The Siphon Berries are really interesting.” Ginny stood and as if the motion had been ingrained in him, Severus stood as well; the tea and biscuits vanished from the table.

“I doubt Ms. Weasley is interested in the properties of Siphon Berries, Harry,” Severus said, his voice full of amusement. Harry smiled, knowing his father knew he had wanted to move away from the topic of schoolyard hexings.

“Yeah, probably not,” he admitted. He turned to Ginny. “Do you want to see my mum’s photo album?” he asked, excited about the prospect of sharing a bit of his parents with Ginny. She grinned.

“I’d love to,” she told him seriously. Harry glanced at his father.

“Do you want to come?” he asked, not sure exactly how he wanted him to answer. Severus studied him for a moment, before shaking his head.

“I should tend to your Potion,” he said. Harry nodded uncertainly. His father gave him a small smile and Harry returned it. He took Ginny’s hand and turned slowly toward his room.

“Harry,” his father’s voice stopped him. Harry turned around again, his heart tripping against his ribs more than it should have been. His father narrowed his eyes a bit, startling Harry for a moment. “Leave the door open,” he advised.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing at the quiet order. He nodded though, knowing his father was entirely serious. “Yeah, all right,” he said quickly, not missing Ginny’s smirk. His father inclined his head and spun around, his usually smooth twirl stunted a bit. Harry and Ginny made it to Harry’s room before they both burst out laughing.

“He sounds just like my mum!” Ginny giggled. Harry raised his eyebrow.

“And just how many boys have you had in your room?” he asked, trying not to smile. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

“Funny, Harry. I do have six older brothers you know, none of them exactly proper little gentlemen.” When Harry opened his mouth, Ginny shook her head, her eyes twinkling as she denied, “Nope, not even Percy.”

Harry smiled down at Ginny and then without another word, he gathered her up in his arms again, kissing her this time, enjoying the feeling of her so close.

“Thanks, Ginny,” he said softly when she finally pulled away. She looked up at him quizzically. “For coming. I think it meant a lot to my dad.” Ginny grinned.

“He was quite insistent in his note. I was afraid he’d give me detention if I refused,” she teased. Harry shook his head. His father was much too sneaky for his own good.

“I think he was hoping I’d eat if you were here,” he tried to explain. Ginny nodded.

“Remus told me you weren’t doing very well.” Her eyes crinkled again in concern. “You’re doing better now though, right?” she asked anxiously. Harry nodded.

“Yeah...” He shook his head in amazement. “He was with my mum,” he told her quietly. “But, he wanted to come home…to be here with me.” The idea was completely overwhelming. Ginny squeezed his hand tightly.

“Of course he did, Harry. He loves you...it’s obvious he does.” Harry swallowed.

“I know,” he nodded. “He doesn’t even mind that I’m a mess now,” he confided, only half-joking. Ginny hugged him again.

“You’re supposed to be a mess, Harry. You lost your dad, got him back, lost him again…you brought him back from the dead, Harry!” she said, her words filled with awe. “Of course, you’re a mess. And how could he mind after what you did for him?” Harry shook his head, tears forming slowly in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I think I actually did do something for him. He came back so I wouldn’t be alone anymore. Because I needed him. I don’t think he’s felt needed for anything since my mum died,” he told her thickly. She nodded, and Harry knew that somehow she did understand. Because in reality, his father wasn’t all that hard to understand.

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

Severus relaxed as he approached his son’s room. The sounds of laughter floating from within soothed his frayed nerves. He hadn’t realized just how much he appreciated having Harry within his sight. He’d spent too many nights over the past months worrying about him. Severus felt a pang of grief as he thought of his son going back to the tower. Harry would be able to leave soon and Severus hadn’t realized he would miss the boy so much.

Smoothing his features into a calm façade, he knocked lightly on the edge of the doorway.

“Come in,” Harry said, his invitation shaking with laughter. Severus stepped in. Harry and Ms. Weasley were sitting on Harry’s bed, their backs against the stone wall, their legs entwined together so that it was hard to tell who belonged to what. With a rush of fear, Severus realized he would need to have a talk with Harry about Ms. Weasley. He covered the shudder that threatened to explode as Harry smiled up at him. “Ginny’s enjoying my bath pictures immensely,” he said, his grin spreading.

“You were adorable, Harry.” the girl laughed, pointing to a picture of Harry splashing gleefully in a tub full of sudsy bubbles. Severus’ black sleeves were rolled up as he leaned over, dangling his arms into the water.

Severus watched the pair while they laughed through two more pictures before saying quietly, “It is almost curfew, Ms. Weasley.” She and Harry exchanged a look before Ms. Weasley turned back to Severus.

“You can call me Ginny if you’d like, sir,” she said very seriously as her lips twitched with mirth. Severus stared at her, having not one idea how to respond to such an offer.

1996

“No!” Harry cried as Lucius killed his father again. He felt iron hands against his arms. He snarled, trying to twist out of Voldemort’s grasp. “Leave me alone!” he shouted as he wrestled against the grip.

“Harry!” The arms shook him again, though the movement was gentler. “You’re having a nightmare, Harry,” Voldemort told him, his black eyes warming with concern. Harry blinked in confusion while Voldemort nodded encouragingly. “Wake up, Harry,” he soothed and as the command was perfectly logical, Harry opened his eyes. He blinked rapidly as he took in his surroundings. He was sitting up in his bed in his father’s blurry quarters; there was no sign of Voldemort.

“Are you all right?” his father asked, still holding firmly to Harry's arms. Harry nodded, giving his arms a little tug; Severus released him.

“It didn’t work,” Harry complained as he slumped against the headboard. His father shook his head though.

“You’ve been asleep for nearly five hours. The meditation exercise worked; you simply need more practice to get your through the entire night,” he explained. Harry drew in a deep breath.

“Five hours’ not too bad, I guess,” he conceded. “So, we’ll just try again tonight?”

“We will go through the exercise again now.” When Harry started to protest, his father said firmly, “You need more sleep.” Harry sighed and nodded resignedly. If he wasn’t going to argue, there was nothing much to do but agree, no matter how much he did not want to go back to sleep. Five hours had seemed like an eternity already.

Harry thought his father was giving him a strange look, as though he was trying to figure out a complex Potions recipe, but as Harry didn’t have his glasses on, he really couldn’t be sure. “I’m ready,” he said firmly, moving to lie down again, to distract his father from whatever he was thinking about.

Severus nodded briskly. “Turn your thoughts to Halloween,” he instructed. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and let the horrible memory of his father being kicked to the dirt fill his mind. He shuddered.

“Now, your focal point,” his father commanded gently. Ginny.

Harry let his mind fill with the memory of that first time he’d sat on his bed with Ginny…their first kiss. Harry smiled automatically, reveling in the memory, letting it overtake all his other thoughts, letting it push away the pain, until he could almost feel himself drifting closer to Ginny as she stood as sentinel against Voldemort’s torture…

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

Severus relaxed as Harry smiled to himself, lost in his own thoughts. He stayed, quietly perched on his son’s bed until the smile melted into relaxation and Harry’s chest began to rise and fall in the familiar comforting rhythm. Severus adjusted the blankets around his contented son and stood. He left Harry’s room, though he left the door open as he crossed back to his own room.

Ignoring the call of sleep, Severus waved a wand to return the bedcovers to their original neat state and dressed for the day, ignoring as well the irony of what he’d just told his son. But sleep sounded even more unappealing than it obviously did to Harry. Severus left his room again, pausing in front of Harry’s door to ensure he was still sleeping.

Severus was well aware that Ms. Weasley was his son’s focal point and again, he felt a moment’s gratitude toward the young lady. She had been able to reach Harry where he had soundly failed. Severus shook his head ruefully as he recalled his earlier inability to even respond to her request to be called by her given name. He’d given her a curt nod and repeated that it was time for her to leave. He hoped she wouldn’t bring it up again.

Satisfied that Harry was keeping the nightmares at bay, Severus continued on to his lab. He set out ingredients deftly, paying little attention to what he was doing, the movements so practiced, he didn’t need to spare much thought for them. He was pleased the meditation techniques seemed to be working to help Harry move beyond his nightmares. He knew they would need to spend more time talking about the events of Halloween but he was willing to wait a little longer before forcing the issue.

Poppy seemed to agree that he should allow Harry to take the initiative in any discussion they would need to have. She had also suggested, to Severus’ immediate irritation, that it might be wise for he himself to talk with somebody about what had happened. Severus had dismissed her, of course. He had no need to discuss the events of Halloween. He’d been through torture before; there was little purpose in going over in detail how he felt about the events. He felt nothing; not about any of it.

Harry of course, as much as he would have wished to deny it, was much more delicate. His son felt things, in a way that was reminiscent of Lily…in a way that Severus never had. And he was perfectly content to help Harry through his difficulties; he was almost eager.

Severus doubted he’d be able to explain to Harry what he meant to him. How much it meant to him that Harry had come to find him. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his son. And, as he remembered Lily’s plea to take care of their son, he knew he hadn’t realized how much pleasure he would take in doing just that.

“Did you go ever go back to sleep?”

Severus looked up. Harry was standing in the doorway, still in his pyjamas, his feet bare, his black hair rumpled even more than usual; he was frowning. Severus wanted to smile at the look Harry was giving him; he looked like a cross between Poppy and Lily.

“No,” Severus admitted and as expected, Harry crossed his arms across his chest, looking highly disgruntled.

“You’re supposed to be recovering,” he scolded.

“And so I am,” Severus returned, forcing himself not so smirk at his son.

“I’m pretty sure you need sleep in order to recover,” Harry remarked as his frown deepened.

“I slept long enough,’ Severus told him, still amused by his son’s concern.

“Five hours of sleep is not even enough for a healthy person,” Harry insisted with a little too much edge and Severus realized that Harry was actually concerned that Severus’ lack of sleep might prevent him from fully recovering. “You’re didn’t have a nightmare as well, did you?” Harry asked suddenly as he dropped his hands back to his sides. Severus shook his head. “Did you do your exercise too then?” Harry questioned anxiously. Severus shook his head again, more slowly this time; he had not even thought about the possibility of nightmares. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“You’ll have to remember to do that tonight though,” Harry said firmly. “You don’t want to have nightmares about this,” Harry informed him knowingly. Severus nodded in acceptance, though in reality he saw very little point in going through the same exercise he’d taught Harry to use. But if it would ease his son’s mind…

“I will do the exercise tonight,” he agreed and Harry smiled at him, some of his tension easing.

“Good,” Harry said firmly, seemingly satisfied.

Severus shook his head in amusement, before asking seriously, “You were free from more nightmares, I trust?” Harry nodded, moving forward to pick up the knife Severus had so carefully laid aside.

“Coarsely chopped?” he asked, indicating the sacs filled with Grannel Puss.

“Yes,” Severus nodded. “Be sure to keep the puss on the tray; it’s added at the same time as the sacs.” Harry nodded, keeping his eyes concentrated on the task.

Severus, concerned by his son’s reticence, asked, “Are you feeling well?” Harry glanced up from his chopping.

“I’m a bit nauseous still, I guess,” he shrugged and turned back to his task. With a frown, Severus went to his storage cupboard and chose another vial of Stomach Calming Draught; Harry was still chopping diligently. He looked up as Severus’ shadow crossed his cutting surface. Severus gave the Draught to Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry accepted, and drank the contents of the vial in one smooth gulp. Before he could continue chopping the slippery sacs, Severus picked up the knife again.

“Just rest Harry,” he advised, “I can take care of the Potion.”

Harry looked to be considering that suggestion and then he asked, “Can’t Madame Pomfrey take care of whatever Potions she needs for awhile?” The annoyance was plain as he waited for an answer. “Why is she making you do it?”

“This is not for Madame Pomfrey,” Severus told his son. Harry huffed.

“Well, can’t it wait then?” Severus set his knife down again.

“It can, of course,” he nodded. “Potion making simply helps me relax. I am not straining myself,” he explained. And Severus was certain by the way Harry brought his hands to his sides again, his fingers flexing agitatedly that his son would argue with him. But Harry simply sighed.

“Right,” he inexplicably agreed. He watched Severus as he deftly chopped the sacs. “What are you making?” he wondered, leaning forward a bit to get a better look inside the bubbling cauldron.

“A Potion to repress dreams,” Severus answered distractedly as he added the chopped bits of Grannel Puss Sacs into the cauldron at thirty-second intervals. Harry pulled back abruptly from the cauldron.

“Why didn’t you tell me I can take a Potion to get rid of my dreams?” he asked, though his voice wavered from demanding to hesitant.

Severus wondered over the odd way his son’s tone seemed to waffle before answering, “Because I prefer that you do not take it,” he answered simply.

“Why?” Harry asked in astonishment, though his voice still sounded subdued. Severus narrowed his eyes, as he attempted to discover the reason for his son’s unusual vocal responses.

Finding no viable reason, he simply answered Harry’s question, “The Potion will repress your dreams, but you cannot take it for prolonged periods of time. It will never take away the nightmares; they will simply reappear when you discontinue the Potion.” When Harry didn’t seem to accept that explanation, Severus added, “It will be more beneficial to you to talk through the things that are bothering you, while using the techniques I demonstrated. That is the only way you will heal.” Harry frowned.

“I guess that makes sense, but then why are you making the Potion at all if you don’t want me to use it?”

“I said I prefer you do not use it, not that I would not allow you to. I wanted to wait to see if the meditation would help,” Severus said with a hint of a smile. Harry smiled as well.

“Well, then, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you.”

Severus looked up again from his stirring. Harry was twirling one of the stone pestles between his palms, paying a little too much attention to the bubbles breaking the surface of the gray potion.

“Harry…” Harry glanced up. “Nightmares are not a manifestation of weakness.” Harry shrugged.

“I know.” Severus studied his son, who was gazing at him, his emerald eyes cloudy.

“I will not be disappointed if you need to take the Dream Suppressive,” Severus clarified further, as Harry seemed disinclined to believe his first attempt at reassurance. “Having nightmares after what happened is perfectly normal, Harry.” Harry began rolling the pestle again.

“You didn’t,” he said softly. Severus’ hand stilled over the frog’s intestines that he had just begun to mince.

“Harry,” he began, and when Harry continued to pay rapt attention to the rolling motion of the pestle, he commanded lightly, “Look at me.” Harry stopped rolling the little instrument and looked up, his eyes stormy.

Severus began again, “Harry, I witnessed many unpleasant things while I was acting as a spy for Voldemort. I’ve had many years to grow accustomed to a certain level of unpleasantness.” Harry looked skeptical, so Severus added as gently as he could, “It was not the first time I was tortured.” Harry flinched. “I stopped having nightmares about it a long time ago.”

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

Harry groaned. What sort of question was this?

“Harry?” his father questioned from across the table where he was stirring some potion or another. Harry threw his quill down on the table as his frustration overflowed.

“McGonagall’s essay’s impossible,” he said in exasperation. “Who cares about comparing and contrasting the transmutative properties of dragon’s blood and unicorn’s blood?”

“Apparently Professor McGonagall,” Severus answered dryly. Harry blew out a breath, making his fringe flip up from his forehead so that his scar was briefly visible.

“Of course she does,” Harry sighed. “She’s the Transfiguration teacher.” His father smirked at him.

“And you are a student in her class. I doubt Minerva assigns essays for her own benefit. Therefore there must be something of value in your readings on this particular topic,” his father told him logically; Harry made a face.

“Well if there is, I haven’t found it yet,” he muttered as he turned back to his essay. He didn’t know why he was feeling so irritated, but he immediately felt guilty. He looked up again; his father was reengaged in his Potion. “Sorry,” Harry offered quietly. His father looked up in surprise.

“There is no need to apologize for not enjoying your assignments,” he said, sounding puzzled. Before Harry could tell him that wasn’t what he’d been apologizing for, Severus suggested, “Perhaps you should take a break. Your friends will be here shortly.”

Harry nodded, being careful this time to set his quill down gently. There was no reason to lose his temper. He had after all, made a promise to work harder in his classes, hadn’t he? Complaining about an annoying essay wasn’t exactly going to make that happen.

Besides he was looking forward to his friends’ visit. Ginny had come back a couple of times over the past few days, but Harry hadn’t quite found the nerve to ask his father to allow Ron and Hermione into his quarters. But as it turned out, he hadn’t needed to. His father had suggested last night that as it was the weekend, he might like to invite his other friends for a visit. Harry, after only a short hesitation, had agreed.

Harry let his roll of parchment snap itself closed. “Thanks. For letting Ron and Hermione come over,” Harry elaborated. “I mean I can’t think it’ll be exactly fun for you to have four teenagers here,” he smiled.

Severus cast a Stasis Charm over his Potion and its ingredients before turning his black gaze to Harry. “Your friends are welcome in our home anytime, Harry,” he said seriously. Harry blinked a few times as his stomach flipped.

Our home. The words didn’t really surprise him; he had figured his father felt that way, but still… Harry had never been included in that particular phrase before. It had always meant the Dursley’s home and later the Weasley’s home. And now, he had a home of his own.

Knowing his father couldn’t possibly understand what this meant to him, Harry only nodded. His father lifted his lips in a small smile, his eyes warming a bit as he gazed at him, the expression making Harry wonder if perhaps his dad did understand more than he would have expected. A trilling sound interrupted Harry’s musings on the subject.

“What's that?” Harry asked.

“Your friends are here,” his father said simply, turning to leave the lab. Harry cocked his head.

“A doorbell?”

His father nodded as he continued toward the door in the sitting room. He beckoned Harry forward. When Harry reached his side, Severus took Harry’s hand and wrapped it around the ornate handle, then brought his wand to Harry’s fingers and chanted some Latin words Harry didn’t understand.

“You can open the door now; it recognizes only the occupants of these quarters. We will need to do the same so that you may enter on your own as well.” Harry nodded. Occupant, he mused as he pulled the door open. Lupin was standing behind Harry’s friends, as though he had been ushering them through the dark dungeon corridors. Harry grinned.

“Come in,” he invited, bringing the door open further. Ginny and Hermione needed no further prodding as they stepped through, each hugging Harry in turn, while Remus, shaking his head, gave Ron a little push to get him over the threshold. Ron was smiling nervously. Harry smirked at him and then gestured with his head for Remus to come in. Remus smiled at him and entered as well.

Harry took Remus’ cloak, enjoying the feeling of having guests, while Severus stood back a few paces.

“Good afternoon,” Severus greeted solemnly.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” the girls chorused while Ron sort of mumbled a, “Hello, sir.” Harry bit back a laugh as he hung Remus’ brown robes on the peg near the door.

“Good afternoon, Severus. How are you?” Remus asked congenially.

Severus, his face very still, answered politely, “I am well.” Remus nodded, while Severus turned to Harry’s friends. “Would you like to be seated?” his father inquired, sounding very unlike Hogwarts’ infamous Potions Master.

Ginny, used to Severus by now, smiled and sat comfortably on the sofa. She looked at Ron and Hermione expectantly until they both sat on the sofa as well.

“How are you, Harry?” Hermione asked eagerly as Harry sat in one of the armchairs; his father and Remus remained standing.

“I’m all right,” Harry assured her.

“Are you eating better yet?” she asked, her voice sounding very like Pomfrey’s. Harry shrugged, though he supposed he was getting his appetite back, bit by bit. At least he didn’t need to use his father’s Stomach Calming Draught anymore.

Hermione frowned at him in disapproval. “You need to eat, Harry,” she scolded. “You won’t ever be able to come back to class if you don’t start eating again,” she didn’t even take a breath as she continued, “and do you have any idea what it will do to your grades if you’re out of class for much longer?”

“Hermione,” Ron interrupted, “let him alone.” He shook his head at Harry. “She’s been having a right fit about how much class you’ve missed. You’d think it was her grades that’ll be suffering,” he smirked. Ginny swatted her brother on the arm.

“His grades will be just fine. His dad’s helping him catch up. He’ll be back to school on Tuesday, right Harry?” she asked, turning to Harry. He nodded, and it did the trick. Hermione fairly sparkled.

“Oh, well that’s wonderful, Harry,” she gushed. She clapped her hands together. “You’ll be able catch right up with Professor Snape helping you.” She sighed. “I wish my parents were Professors here.” Ron and Ginny rolled their eyes, but Harry was simply smiling at his bushy-haired friend; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. And Ron.

Harry glanced up at his father; he was watching them, a satisfied look on his face. At Harry’s look, his face went still again and he said smoothly, “I will be in the lab, should you need anything.” Harry nodded.

“Thanks for letting us visit,” Ginny piped up. Severus inclined his head.

Before he turned to go, Remus spoke softly, “Do you have a moment, Severus?” After a pause, Severus nodded.

“I do,” he answered, his voice still held tight. Remus smiled, looking amused and turned to follow the other man into his lab. Once they were both inside, the door closed with a resounding thud and Harry’s heart echoed the sound.

He didn’t realize he was staring at the closed the door, until Ron asked, “You all right, mate?” Harry shook himself. He forced a small smile to his lips.

“Yeah...”

Ginny smiled at him and he did his best to return it. Everything was just fine, he told himself firmly, willing himself to believe the refrain. “How is everything upstairs?” he finally asked, hoping his tone was as light as he was intending. Hermione leaned forward conspiratorially, glancing quickly at the lab door, which was still firmly closed.

“Harry, it’s as though the whole school’s gone mad,” she whispered. “And it’s not just the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Everyone is furious.” Harry furrowed his brows. What could anyone have to be furious about?

“Why?” he wondered. Hermione shook her head.

“I don’t suppose your father’s let you see the Prophet?” she asked. Harry narrowed his eyes.

“I saw Skeeter’s article, saying my dad’s dead and my mum-” but Ron was shaking his head.

“That wasn’t the only one, mate,” he confided, adopting Hermione’s whisper. “And she's not the only one writing either. There have been new articles every day—wild stories—saying how you were the one who gave up the secret; it was you who turned your dad in, because you wanted him to suffer for abandoning you…all sorts of rubbish,” he scowled. Hermione was nodding.

"Rita Skeeter even claimed yesterday that you were considering joining Voldemort, just to spite your father.” Harry shot up abruptly from his chair.

“But—that’s insane!” he nearly shouted. The lab door flew open. His father and Remus came out; Severus was scowling at Harry’s friends.

“Is there a problem?” he asked darkly, piercing the three Gryffindors with a glare. Hermione shook her head anxiously.

“No, sir,” she blurted. Severus glared for a second longer, causing Hermione to shrink back against the cushions, before he turned swiftly to Harry.

“Harry?” he asked, his tone softening instinctively. Harry continued staring at his friends as his storm raged with blackened anger. Why the bloody hell hadn’t his father told him about this? How did he expect Harry to be able to counter all the gossip if he didn’t even know what people would be saying?

“Harry?” his father repeated, and Harry had to force himself not to flinch away in fury from the sudden hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a second. There was no reason to be angry, he told himself. It must be a misunderstanding; his father had to a have a reason, but Harry could find none. Thinking of Ginny, Harry let his storm quiet. He wasn’t going to get mad. He wasn’t.

When he was feeling calmer, he opened his eyes. His father was closer now, peering at him. Harry tried a smile; it came out more like a grimace but it would have to do. “I’m all right,” he said quietly. “They were just telling me about some of the gossip going around,” he explained; there was no need to bring up Rita Skeeter’s lies.

His father studied him with narrowed eyes. Then he turned abruptly back to Harry’s friends. “Do not upset him again,” he said in a low voice. Ron and Hermione nodded immediately but Ginny was staring at Harry intently, a quizzical look on her face. Harry turned away from her gaze. There was a moment of silence and after another bit of pressure from his father’s hand, the two men returned to the lab; the door remained open.

Harry’s knees were beginning to feel unsteady so he let himself plop into the chair.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I’m fine,” Harry snapped, scowling deeply. Did he have to go through this every bloody year, with half the school thinking he’d lost his mind? Ron gave Hermione an incredulous look.

“Of course he’s not all right, ‘Mione. Snape almost bit our heads right off,” he scoffed. Hermione made an impatient noise.

“Yes, our heads…not Harry’s,” Hermione huffed. “Harry?” she persisted. Harry shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. He just needed to forget his anger.

“I’m fine,” he shrugged with false cheer. “How’s Quidditch practice?” The change of subject brought a frown to Ron’s face.

“Terrible,” he lamented. “Katie’s mad!” he told Harry. “She’s been making us practice every night...well most of us anyway,” he said with a scowl toward Ginny. Ginny just smiled.

“Ronald, Ginny was helping Harry get better,” Hermione chided her boyfriend who continued to frown at his sister. Harry smiled, this one much more genuine as he listened to his friends’ innocent bickering.

--

“Are you ready?” his father asked as he stepped into Harry’s room. Harry nodded, though really, he wasn’t ready at all. He smoothed his palms over his robes nervously.

“Maybe we should just wait until afternoon classes begin,” he suggested hopefully. After all, how much trouble could he get in with his father five feet away? And that way, he’d be certain his father was all right. Severus frowned.

“If at any time, if you need me, do not hesitate to come see me. Even if I am in class,” he added. Harry nodded, though he didn’t think he’d need to come rushing into the Potions classroom in the few hours until his own class with his father started, he decided with resolve. Although, he admitted with a fair bit of silent chagrin, it was getting harder and harder to distinguish himself from a Hufflepuff.

“I’ll be okay,” he said, more for his own benefit than his father’s, but Severus nodded immediately.

“You will,” he agreed. “Do not forget,” he added, “that you are to be with at least two other students at all times. Even with the expulsion of the students who were threatening you, it would be unwise to let your guard down.” Harry nodded. They had gone over this many times in the past few days.

His father eyed him for a moment longer before adding the other oft-repeated refrain, “You’ll need to work much harder than usual at maintaining control of your temper.” Harry grinned, as he was convinced his father was reminding himself of the same thing. As he’d said as much yesterday, his father gave him a small, rueful smile. “As will I.”

“You know, it’s nice to finally know where I got my temper from,” Harry smirked. His father raised an eyebrow.

“Do you intend to blame me for all of your disagreeable habits?” he asked. Harry nodded.

“Yep,” he said seriously. Severus shook his head, his eyes glinting in amusement as he spun around to lead the way out of their quarters.

They walked through the corridors in companionable silence until they reached the Great Hall. In a sudden burst of panic, Harry grabbed his father’s sleeve. Severus halted, turning to face Harry. Before Harry could even speak, his father reminded him quietly, “You may come see me anytime you wish.” Harry swallowed his rising anxiety back. “I will be fine,” his father assured him and Harry nodded. Of course nothing was going to happen to his father while he was teaching class. Of course…

Severus patted the hand that was still hanging on nervously to his sleeve. Harry took a deep breath, gave his father a watery sort of smile and dropped his hand. He nodded once and again, his father and he were walking side by side, as they entered the Great Hall.

Harry was certain that every eye was on him and his father. Ignoring the gawking, Severus put his hand between Harry’s shoulder blades and nudged him forward. Harry, letting his mind calm, moved with his father’s command toward the Gryffindor table. When they reached the end, Harry stood uncertainly, not knowing exactly what to do. Not surprisingly, his father solved that problem.

He turned slightly so that he was facing Harry, squeezed his shoulder and said calmly, “I will see you in class.” So normal. And Harry relaxed.

“All right, Dad,” he nodded and he could almost feel the silence. Severus looked like he was trying very hard not to smile; he spun around, his robes gathering around him majestically as he glided up to his seat at the Head Table. Every eye followed him. Harry smiled and without waiting for his dad to sit first, he plopped onto his bench. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione turned to him immediately, all of their faces plastered with grins.

“That was brilliant, Harry!” Ron enthused before he began shoveling food into his mouth. But among the gathered students throughout the four House tables, Ron’s declaration was not unanimous. Even the Gryffindors at his own table seemed undivided over the issue. While most of the older students welcomed Harry back as enthusiastically as ever, the first and second years seemed to be eyeing him with a fair amount of fear. Harry sighed. It seemed this would be much harder than he had suspected.

“How are you, Harry?” Neville asked, as he leaned around Seamus. Harry smiled at his friend, grateful that Neville at least seemed unconcerned by the new circumstances.

“Much better, thanks,” he told the other boy. Neville nodded, while Seamus frowned, tilting his head a bit as he studied Harry.

“Are you actually getting on with Snape, then?” he asked, his voice full of criticism, and Harry tensed a bit as the students in hearing range seemed to all turn at once, waiting silently for Harry’s answer.

Before he could answer, Ginny scowled at the sixth year. “Of course he is, Seamus. What sort of question is that?” Seamus pursed his lips.

“The sort that everyone’s been wondering on for weeks now,” he retorted. Ginny bristled.

“Well then, everyone should learn to mind their own business,” she snapped.

Seamus glared at Ginny for a moment longer but Ginny didn’t back down and finally Seamus turned back to his breakfast, muttering, “I was just wondering,” into his pumpkin juice. Ginny smirked. Neville, next to Seamus was smiling a little too.

“I’m glad Snape’s all right, Harry. We were awfully worried for both of you,” he offered kindly and Harry felt a glow of appreciation for the boy’s friendship.

“Thanks, Neville,” he said seriously. Neville smiled again and began nibbling his toast once more.

Half-expecting Dean to share at least some of Seamus’ animosity, Harry was surprised when he leaned forward from across the table to say, “Glad you’re back, Harry. Are you coming back to the Tower tonight?” Harry shook his head.

“Not yet.” Dean frowned sympathetically.

“Pomfrey’s a bit fussy, isn’t she?”

Harry nodded, grateful that he didn’t have to explain that even if Pomfrey had cleared him to go back to the Tower, he still had absolutely no desire to go. Harry wondered then, how much longer it would be until his father suggested it himself. With that thought, Harry glanced up at the Head Table.

Severus was watching him. Harry smiled at the way his father was glancing pointedly at Harry’s plate. Harry nodded; his father raised his thin eyebrow as though to ask, “Well?” and Harry chuckled, before turning to his breakfast. Though the food held almost no interest to Harry, he ate it obediently, not quite finishing what he chose from the platters. It would do though.

He glanced once more up at the Head Table. Severus was just standing from his chair. He caught Harry’s gaze and the warmth in his father’s eyes was enough to allow the rest of his worry to fade to the back of his mind. He turned back to his friends. Ron was still stuffing bangers, two at a time, into his mouth while Ginny and Hermione gawked at him. And for once, even Harry found himself disgusted by Ron’s table manners.

“All right, Ron,” Hermione finally sighed. “Are you finished?” Ron nodded, as he added two more spicy bangers to the collection in his mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked up her school bag. “Come on, Harry. You don’t want to be late to your first class back.”

“Yeah, ‘arry…’oomph ‘ee ‘ate, ‘ooo you?” Harry made a face as bits of Ron’s breakfast spewed toward Hermione. Hermione, with a long-suffering sigh, tugged on Ron’s hand until he too was standing.

Harry paused only long enough to kiss Ginny on the cheek and then with a wave he and Neville followed Ron and Hermione toward McGonagall’s classroom. Ron and Hermione said very little as they seemed to be much too interested in each other, but Neville filled the silence, asking Harry dozens of questions about everything that had happened in the past two weeks.

Harry answered all his questions, finding none of them offensive as Neville really did seem to be genuinely happy for Harry. He even glared at a few people who stopped to whisper as they walked through the corridors. They reached the classroom with a few minutes to spare, and Neville gave Harry a cheery wave as he continued on down the corridor to his own class.

Ron sat next to Harry, and Harry appreciated his friend’s support, as he probably would have preferred to sit next to Hermione. Hermione smiled back at both of them as she sat down next to one of her bunkmates. Harry’s appreciation didn’t last long though as the group of Hufflepuffs across the aisle was shooting glances in Harry’s direction and whispering in voices that were actually much too loud to be considered whispers.

“…it doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t want to live with Snape if he wanted to kill him…”

“…maybe he’s the spy for You Know Who now…”

“…yeah…as if we wouldn’t possibly suspect that…Harry’s always been a bit off…”

“…well, than he goes well with Snape…can you believe Harry’s actually related to him?”

“…I can, yeah…don’t you remember…”

“Harry, don’t let it bother you,” Ron interrupted Harry’s listening. Harry sighed. “People love any sort of good gossip…it’ll all blow over, just like all the other times,” his friend assured him. Harry nodded, knowing Ron was right but still, it didn’t make it any easier to wait it out.

“Mr. Finch-Fletchley, Ms. Abbot, do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of us for fifty points each?” McGonagall’s sharp voice silenced the two gossipers immediately. They both shook their heads fervently and Harry wondered just how many points McGonagall had taken in the past weeks.

“Then, get your books out,” the Professor commanded sternly. Justin and Hannah scrambled to obey while McGongall Spelled the day’s lesson onto the blackboard. Harry almost groaned as he read the heading:Transmutative Properties and the Blood of Magical Creatures. Even with his father’s help, Harry still had no interest in the subject. He did his best to pay attention though, making it somehow through the entire lesson without making any glaring mistakes.

He sighed when McGonagall finally dismissed the class. He walked back to the Great Hall with his friends, wishing he could veer off toward the dungeons; Ginny was waiting for them in the same spot they’d sat in at breakfast. Harry didn’t even realize he’d been staring at the Head Table until he felt a ridiculous wave of relief when his father entered through the Professor’s entrance with Remus.

With a sudden burst of amusement, Harry realized that those two had been spending a lot of time together lately. He realized they were probably plotting one of Dumbledore’s schemes but his father seemed almost as though he might not mind Remus' company and the idea definitely made Harry feel warm through. He caught his father’s eye; his father inclined his head in acknowledgment. Harry waved to Remus. Remus smiled fondly at him. Feeling much better, Harry was able to eat most of lunch.

When he’d finished, he waited lazily for his friends to finish, enjoying the conversation around him. Ginny and Ron were catching Harry up on Katie’s latest antics as his temporary replacement as Captain. Harry enjoyed listening to them but he couldn't decide if he missed playing Quidditch or not. He hadn’t really thought much about it much lately.

Their break ended much too soon, with Hermione announcing that it was time to make their way to Potions class. Harry, feeling a mixture of dread and relief, got up slowly, adjusting his bag meticulously. Ginny walked with them this time.

“Maybe Hermione can partner with Malfoy,” Ginny suggested helpfully when Harry admitted he had no idea how the Slytherin would react to him. He didn’t even know how much Malfoy knew about what had happened. He had wanted to ask his father a dozen different times but Harry’s desire to avoid the entire topic of Halloween was much more important than learning about the Malfoys.

“I already tried that,” Harry told Ginny. “No luck,” he added with a shrug. He could handle Malfoy, he supposed. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to the blonde boy being a complete berk.

Harry said goodbye to Ginny in front of her classroom and then he, Ron, and Hermione continued on to the dungeons. The darkened, slightly musty passages were comforting to Harry. He was even smiling by the time they reached the Potions classroom. That ended as soon as he walked through the door. Every student turned around, whether Gryffindor or Slytherin...all except Malfoy. All Harry could see of that particular Slytherin was the back of his silvery-blonde head.

Hermione squeezed Harry’s arm comfortingly before she and Ron took their seats. And Harry cursed silently, wondering why his seat had to be at the front of the room. He walked as quickly as he could without tripping over his own hurried footsteps. He slid into his seat. Malfoy continued staring straight ahead.

Figuring this would be a day that Malfoy wouldn’t be inclined to share, Harry took out his ingredients, setting them out as neatly as he could; for some reason he didn’t feel like annoying the Slytherin. But, as he quickly found out, he needn’t have bothered; Malfoy was already annoyed. With everybody, it seemed.

The classroom door swept open and Harry decided that he and Malfoy were the only ones who didn’t turn around to watch the Potions Master’s entrance, considering the way they’d reacted to Harry. His father didn’t seem to notice anything out of order however. He swept down the aisle as he always had, coming gracefully to a spinning stop in front of his desk.

“Professors Sprout and McGonagall inform me that your performance over the last two weeks has been less than exemplary. I will remind you only once that this is a N.E.W.T. level class and anyone who cannot demonstrate at least basic competency with today’s Potion will see me after class to discuss your removal from this class.” There were many sharp intakes of breath at Severus’ pronouncement and even Harry began to feel a bit nervous at the declaration.

As though there had been no response, Severus continued, “We will be brewing a Blood Thinning Potion. It is a complicated Potion; the main ingredient is delicate and must be handled properly. If you’ve prepared adequately, you should not have any problems." Turning his gaze to Parkinson, he demanded, "What is the main ingredient, Ms. Parkinson?"

Parkinson answered swiftly, "Dragon's Blood." Severus nodded curtly.

"Five points to Slytherin." He turned to next to Seamus.

"How long does the Potion need to brew after adding the Dragon's Blood, Finnegan?" Seamus frowned.

"Twenty minutes?" he said, the answer clearly a guess. Severus scowled

"No. Five points from Gryffindor, and I suggest you actually read the directions before brewing," he sneered before turning his gaze to Harry. Harry tensed with the remembered stress of so many Potions classes.

"Harry, how long?" his father asked, his tone changing slightly, though it was hard to tell if anyone else would notice, and Harry was more than a little startled to hear his father call him 'Harry' in class, but he answered without any difficulty as he and his father had gone over the assigned reading in great detail yesterday, "After you add half the Dragon's Blood, it needs to simmer for 15 minutes and after the rest is added, 30 minutes." His father nodded.

"Correct. Five points to Gryffindor," he approved and then addressed the rest of the class with an abrupt, "Begin.” Harry couldn’t stop the grin that spread over his face. He had just earned points in Potions Class.

In his excitement, he forgot to be wary of Malfoy, and asked cheerfully, “Do you want me to light the cauldron?” Malfoy whipped his head around, his eyes narrowed, his mouth twisted into a vicious frown.

“What the hell are you so happy about, Potter?” he demanded in a fierce whisper. “Did Severus not get beaten soundly enough for you?” he snarled. Harry pulled back from the cauldron he'd been about to light, surprised in spite of himself.

“I-” he began but Malfoy leaned in closer, his pale face only inches from Harry’s face.

“If you say one word to anybody about my father, one word, Potter, and you will regret it. And believe me, Potter, I will finish what I start.”

The threat stretched on Malfoy’s shallow breaths until a deep voice interrupted, “Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Malfoy’s jaw clenched as he jerked away from Harry.

“No, sir, no problem at all,” Malfoy bit out sarcastically as he glared up at Severus.

“Then I will expect you to put your energies into brewing your Potion, instead of snarling at my son. Do I make myself clear?” Malfoy was shaking with fury as he nodded sharply. Severus narrowed his eyes before turning away from them, though Harry noticed his father didn’t stay away from their table for more than a few minutes.

Draco didn't help at all as Harry began adding ingredients to the cauldron, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. Harry brewed the Potion completely on his own, though he couldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy’s words. He wasn’t even sure what the other boy had meant.

Did he not want Harry to tell anyone that Lucius had saved his father? Of course that made sense; as far as Harry knew, Lucius was still playing his part as a Death Eater, and he knew as well that Lucius had suffered for not killing Severus. That would certainly explain Malfoy’s explosive anger.

Realizing he probably shouldn’t, Harry leaned in a little toward Malfoy. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened on Halloween,” he whispered as he poured a vial of Sticky Sap into the cauldron. Malfoy turned sharply to Harry.

“You’re sorry?” he echoed in disbelief, his voice having lost some of its anger, though he was still whispering. “You’re sorry my father didn’t kill Severus?” he asked incredulously.

“What?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Potter?” Malfoy demanded, as he grabbed a pestle from the table to begin crushing the Basilisk Scales, apparently forgetting that he was too mad to help with the Potion. “I thought you’d be glad that someone actually wanted you…though,” he mused thoughtfully as he pounded the Scales, “I can’t see why Severus didn’t just let You Know Who have you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, half in irritation at Malfoy, but also in concentration as he tried to figure out what Malfoy hadn’t wanted Harry to say about Lucius. “I didn’t mean sorry about that,” Harry explained, surprised as his voice came out without any anger. “I just meant about your father being hurt…by Voldemort, I mean.” Draco stopped pounding.

“You’re sorry that my father was punished by You Know Who?” he whispered, his eyes widening in silver-toned shock. “He tried to kill Severus!” Harry stared at the Slytherin. Malfoy didn’t know Lucius had activated the Portkey! Malfoy was shaking his head in wonderment. “Either you really do still hate Severus just as much as you always have or you have way too much Gryffindor honor for your own good,” he marveled.

“I don’t hate my father,” Harry snapped, finally feeling his annoyance at Malfoy’s callousness creeping up. Malfoy snorted as he started pounding again.

“Well, then you are too Gryffindor, I guess,” he concluded with a smirk. Harry shrugged.

“Guess so,” he agreed. In his book there was no such thing as being too Gryffindor. Malfoy continued pounding in silence for a few more minutes before stopping abruptly. When he didn’t add the Scales to the Potion, Harry looked up from slitting the throat of a small fish. Malfoy was staring at him, his light eyes eerily appraising.

“What?” Harry demanded, the little hairs on the back of his neck prickling with Malfoys’ look. Malfoy pursed his lips.

“I suppose you’re too Gryffindor to give my father and I away, then.” Malfoy sounded resigned and reluctant at the same time, as though he was almost wishing he could have followed through on his earlier threat. Harry shrugged again.

“I won’t say anything,” he told the Slytherin boy and after a pause, Malfoy nodded curtly before turning back to the finely powdered Dragon Scales and pouring them elegantly into the cauldron. He and Harry didn’t speak for the rest of class, and Harry was glad; he turned their conversation over and over, trying to decide whether or not to ask his father. But again, the desire to keep the events of Halloween tightly lidded won out over his curiosity.

And by the time his father dismissed the class, after giving Malfoy and Harry full points for their Potion, Harry was having a very difficult time stilling his agitation, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was so agitated about. Ron and Hermione came up to Harry’s table while he was cramming his Potions book into his bag.

“Do you want to come with us to the library?” Hermione asked. Harry glanced up at his father, who was arranging Potions vials on his desk.

“I was just going to go back to our quarters,” he shrugged as he adjusted his bag over his shoulders. His father looked up.

“I need to do some work in the classroom until dinner,” his father said, his mouth turned down in a frown, obviously still annoyed about how things had gone in his absence.

“I can just do my work in here,” Harry offered, feeling more at ease now that he wasn't thinking unwillingly about Halloween. His father stopped adjusting the vials.

“Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, would you wait outside for a moment?” Ron and Hermione nodded and left quickly. Severus came around his desk to stand in front of Harry. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice more relaxed now that Harry’s friends had gone.

“Yeah, I just thought you’d like some company,” Harry answered.

“I would enjoy your company, of course,” his father nodded. “You will likely have a more enjoyable time with your friends however,” he said lightly. Harry smiled.

“You’re not so bad,” he said. His father raised an eyebrow.

“I believe your classmates would disagree.”

“Yeah, you were a bit frightening today. Better to start off that way, though so we don’t get any funny ideas,” Harry told him with a knowing nod. His father’s lip curled.

“Have you ever considered a Professor-ship, Harry? You understand the adolescent mind well.”

“Well, that might be because I am an adolescent,” Harry informed him, still grinning. Severus nodded.

“And as an adolescent, you should spend as much time as you possibly can with your friends,” he said pointedly. Harry sighed gustily as though giving in to his father’s suggestion, though as he was feeling much better again, spending time in the library sounded like a good idea.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he agreed, “but don’t overdo it in here, all right?” he said, making his voice as stern as possible. His father pursed his lips in sour agreement.

“Go to the library, Harry,” he ordered and Harry, still smiling, did just that.

---

After two hours in the library, Hermione had informed Harry that he was likely developing something called Split Personality Disorder in the Muggle World. And after she’d explained what it meant, Harry was almost tempted to agree. He couldn’t stop alternating between irritation and feeling at ease. Thinking of Halloween, no matter how hard he tried not to, inevitably caused him to snap at whoever was talking to him and even though he tried to explain some of what he was feeling, it didn’t make him feel any better. Whatever his problem was continued on through dinner, and it was harder than ever not to snap at his father that evening, though he didn’t think his father was doing anything particularly irritating.

The next day was no better. It only got worse in Flitwick’s class as they were supposed to be practicing some interesting charms, but somehow Harry spent most of the lesson listening to Zabini and Parkinson engaged in a staged argument about why their Head of House had rejected Harry as a baby. When Zabini declared that it must have been because he was ashamed of Harry’s Mudblood mother, Neville, who was sitting next to Harry, had to put a firm hand over Harry’s twitching wand arm. Harry had little success calming his anger and after class ended, he retreated with Neville and Ron. They had waited for Hermione for a few minutes while she talked to Flitwick, but she had finally waved them to go as she looked like she was settling herself in for a lengthy chat. Harry was eager to get to lunch and be done with the Slytherins for the day.

Ignoring Neville and Ron as they hurried to keep up with him, Harry gave up trying to calm down as he stalked through the corridors. As they approached the Great Hall, he glared in barely restrained anger as he saw Zabini leaning against the wall with three other Slytherins, one of them a seventh year.

“How is it in the dungeons with daddy?” Zabini called. Harry gritted his teeth and continued down the corridor, though he could feel Ron tensing behind him; he picked up the pace.

“He’s so desperate for someone, he doesn’t even care that his own father didn’t even claim him for fifteen years…can’t really blame him for that though, can you?” sneered the fifth year Slytherin with brown hair. Harry kept walking.

“We should have known they were related though,” one of the seventh years, Pinth, put in, “Potter’s as big a coward as his father.” Harry halted. The seventh year smirked. “Yeah, Potter, I heard he actually cried while they were beating him, couldn’t even take it like a man…whimpering they say…actually begging for mercy.”

Before he had time to realize just how stupid the action was, Harry had his wand pointed at the tall Slytherin. Harry felt Neville and Ron copying his movements. The Slytherin pulled himself out of his slouch, whipping his wand out as well.

“Just shut up, Pinth.” Pinth smiled.

“Why, Potter? Does it bother you that daddy is a filthy traitor who can’t take what’s deserved?”

“Shut the hell up,” Ron hissed, his wand inching closer to Pinth’s face. Pinth narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, it’s the blood traitor again,” he drawled in a bored tone. “I suppose the way you surround yourself with Mudbloods and blood traitors, Potter, it shouldn’t be any surprise that daddy would enjoy fucking your Mudblood mother…no matter how much the little bitch pleaded with him to stop-”

The rest of the slurs were cut off as Harry lunged at the boy with a snarl, forgetting all about his wand as his fist slammed into the Slytherin’s smirking face. Harry felt the blood as it spurted over his fist, but he paid no attention. The anger that had been held in for too long, poured out in raw fury over the unsuspecting Slytherin's face. Harry’s was acting purely out of rage, having no coherent thoughts as his fists pummeled whatever was within reach. The rapid blows aimed at his own face, barely registered.

“Harry!” a sharp voice broke into the roaring between Harry’s ears and Harry didn’t have a chance to answer as he was jerked backward, away from Pinth. Harry, his anger not drained, made a sharp move back toward the Slytherin, but whoever held him was apparently not inclined to let Harry continue the fight, so Harry had to settle for glaring at the other boy as he continued to struggle uselessly against the fierce hold. Pinth was glaring right back, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the Slytherin’s rapidly swelling face.

Harry wondered fleetingly if he looked anything like that, when he was turned sharply around, making his breakfast roll. He tried to focus on the face leaning in towards his, but he couldn’t quite make it out, even though he was almost certain he was still wearing his glasses. He heard vague voices, saying something to do with the Hospital Wing, but they were getting more distant as Harry tried to figure out what they were saying and he wanted to tell whoever was shaking him that he was about to sick up. But, it was getting darker and without warning, he felt himself pitching forward toward whomever was holding him, right before the darkness closed in on him.

1996

“Hi, Professor Lupin,” came a breathless voice from behind him. Remus turned, smiling down at Hermione as she rushed out of Flitwick’s classroom. Well, maybe first years and Hermione, he amended. But then he frowned.

“You’re not supposed to be alone, Hermione,” he reminded the flushed girl. She shook her head.

“I know…I heard you out here so I thought maybe you’d walk me to the Great Hall. Professor Flitwick is doing some research for me,” she explained. Remus nodded in understanding.

“Of course, Hermione,” he assured her, gesturing with his hand that she should join him. She fell into step beside him. “What sort of research is Professor Flitwick doing for you?” Remus asked with interest. Hermione smiled, a sort of smug expression. But she shook her head.

“It’s a bit of a secret,” she told him. Remus swallowed his amusement, nodding as seriously as he could. Before he had a chance to voice his acknowledgment, Hermione halted. Remus stopped as well, looking down at her curiously. Her eyes went wide. “Harry!” she yelped sharply.

Remus’ head shot up in panic. Straight ahead, only meters from them, Harry was being roughly grabbed from behind by Argus Filch, while a tall Slytherin sneered as he wiped a smear of blood from his mouth with the back of hand. His heart hammering in his chest, Remus bolted away from Hermione who was still rooted to the spot; he covered the distance to Harry in only seconds, but even before he could reach his young friend, Argus had spun Harry around and was shaking him violently.

“Argus!” Remus shouted in objection. “Let go of him!” he demanded. Though he noticed both Ron and Neville beyond Harry and Filch, both grappling with three other Slytherins on the floor, he ignored them in favor of using his entire body to shove Argus aside, pulling Harry from the other man's grasp; Argus stumbled against Ron and he heard the boy crying out in surprise as without warning, Harry pitched forward against Remus.

“Harry?” Remus questioned urgently. He lifted Harry’s head gently; he grit his teeth. Harry’s eyes were closed, his body limp. Sparing only a second to pull his wand out and direct it toward the Great Hall, hoping Severus was already there, a wolf erupted from the tip and ran gracefully toward the Hall. Then Remus knelt down, carefully bringing Harry with him gently, until the boy was resting his head in Remus’ lap.

Using his wand, he performed a quick Diagnostic Spell. A commotion from off to his right had Remus looking up quickly. A crowd of students had gathered in the entrance to the Great Hall and Remus could see Minerva spinning down from Albus’ office, though she was running down the staircase, not waiting for it to deposit her at the bottom.

“What is the meaning of this?” she was demanding as she came, but nobody bothered to answer her.

And then there was a shouted, “Partis!” from behind where the students blocked the Great Hall and the throng of students immediately parted down the middle as they went flying backwards, their limbs flailing wildly, as though a great wave had just separated them. Severus appeared in the now-empty space, his face filled with anxiety. Ginny was right behind him, her face much paler than normal.

Severus came down the now-cleared space at a run and when he spotted Harry on the floor, he drew in a harsh breath, his face paling to a shade beyond white. “Harry!” he breathed. In a panic, he sprinted the rest of the way to where his son lay and dropped down to his knees. Ginny followed suit.

“Harry?” Severus brought his hand to Harry’s cheek gently, being careful to avoid the darkening bruises. “What happened?” he asked harshly of Remus. Remus shook his head.

“All I saw was Argus pulling him away from Pinth,” he answered, waving toward the tall Slytherin, who by this point was lined up against the wall along with the other Slytherins, and Ron and Neville. Minerva was still demanding an explanation, though none of the students seemed inclined to answer her queries. Argus was holding his arm, trying to complain to Minerva about Remus’ manhandling, while Hermione stood nearby, wringing her hands nervously.

Severus looked up sharply, directing his glare toward the seventh year Slytherin; Severus’ eyes were glinting dangerously. To distract him, Lupin said hurriedly, “I think he just passed out.” Severus immediately bent down again toward Harry, his featured softening with concern. With a wave of his wand, he banished the shards of glass that had pierced the skin around Harry’s eye, having only narrowly missed the eyeball.

“He grabbed me, Professor! ‘e nearly broke my arm!” Argus was protesting loudly to Minerva.

Having had enough, Remus snapped, “You were shaking Harry so hard, he blacked out, Argus! What did you expect me to do?” Severus’ head snapped up again, his eyes widening in livid black. Remus instantly regretted speaking.

“But, my arm,” Argus complained. Severus made a low snarling sound in his throat, making a move as though to spring at the disgusting man. Remus put a restraining hand on Severus’ arm.

“Harry needs you here,” he reminded the Potions Master quietly and though Severus firmed his jaw, he turned away from the other man.

“Argus, stop your whining!” Minerva finally snapped to the Squib, who by now was glaring resentfully at Remus. Remus scowled at him. Minerva turned toward the students gawking at the scene. “Anyone still in the corridor in thirty seconds will find themselves serving a detention this evening,” she informed them coldly. The students responded immediately, trying to shove past one another in their haste to get back to lunch, though Ginny and Hermione pointedly ignored the order; Minerva didn’t comment.

“Severus, is Harry all right?” the Deputy Headmistress finally asked, turning her attention to the fallen boy. Severus didn’t answer as he gently pulled his son away from Remus and lifted him into his arms, being very careful not to jostle him. Ginny stood up as well, apparently planning to follow the two men to the Hospital Wing.

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

Occluding his mind to keep his thoughts away from the violence he wished to enact on both Pinth and Argus Filch, Severus pulled his son’s limp body up into his arms, hoisting him easily; he weighed almost nothing. With long, hurried strides, Severus made his way to the Hospital Wing, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He knew Ms. Weasley was doing her best to keep up with his pace, but Severus paid no attention to her.

Severus swore quietly, wishing he hadn’t allowed Harry to return to classes yet. How could have been stupid enough to think Harry would be safe here? Clenching his jaw, he ignored the next rush of anger at Pinth and the others who had so obviously attacked Harry. Harry stirred in Severus’ arms; he opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the movement. He blinked a few times up at Severus, his green eyes dulled with pain; he made a quiet moaning noise.

“It’s all right Harry,” Severus told him softly. “I am taking you to the Hospital Wing,” he assured him. Harry shook his head slightly.

“I can walk. I’m all right,” he said hoarsely, his voice scratchy. Severus shook his head.

“You passed out, Harry,” he told his son. Harry looked surprised.

“I did?” he asked. Severus nodded.

“Quiet now, Harry. Rest,” he ordered lightly. Harry nodded shakily and closed his eyes again.

“Where’re Ron and Neville?” Harry asked, sounding rather dazed. Severus pursed his lips in concern.

“Shh, Harry,” he insisted, ignoring the question. And amazingly, Harry actually quieted, leaving his eyes closed. And minutes later, Severus was pushing through the infirmary door. Poppy, fussing over a first year, gasped when she looked up.

She hurried toward them, demanding, “What happened?”

“He was attacked,” Severus answered tersely; Harry’s eyes flew open. He tried to say something, but Severus shook his head.

“Not now, Harry,” he shushed his son. Harry closed his mouth again.

“Put him down, Severus…yes, right there,” Pomfrey directed, pointing to an empty bed. Severus put Harry carefully on the bed before glaring at the hapless first year; he looked away immediately.

Poppy waved her wand over Harry, shaking her head and muttering. “You really shouldn’t be carrying him, Severus,” she admonished distractedly. “You are not fully recovered-”

“Spare me your coddling,” Severus snapped, not interested in the least about how recovered he was. Poppy pursed her lips and continued her examination, while Severus watched anxiously. “He passed out,” he told her.

“I’m not finding any signs of a concussion...no head injury at all,” Poppy said with a deep frown, as she waved her wand over Harry.

“Lupin said Argus was shaking him,” Severus bit out angrily. Poppy looked up, startled.

“Shaking him?” she asked in alarm.

“He had already passed out when I got there,” Severus told her, his jaw moving with tight, uncontrolled movements. Poppy shook her head, her own eyes flashing in anger.

The Mediwitch called for several salves, her tone clipped. Without giving her a chance to argue, Severus plucked the jar of Healing Cream from her fingers and began applying it gently to the cuts around Harry’s eyes. Poppy concerned herself with the bruises; Severus assisted as soon as he finished with the tiny cuts.

“Who attacked you?” Poppy asked as she smoothed cream over Harry face.

“Stephen Pinth,” Severus answered for his son, completely unable to keep the venom out of his voice.

There was a short pause before Poppy asked, “Why?” Severus shook his head stiffly. He had absolutely no idea, but Pinth would most certainly regret coming anywhere near Harry.

Before Poppy could ask any more questions, the Infirmary door burst open as the group of marred students stumbled in with Minerva’s overly-loud lecture following them. Lupin was assisting Longbottom, who looked ready to topple over.

Poppy sighed. “I suspect he’s simply still weak from not eating or sleeping properly. Argus’ manhandling exacerbated his overly-delicate condition,” she informed Severus. To Harry she ordered, “Lie still for now,” before turning to the other students.

“Sit down, Mr. Longbottom,” she commanded shrilly. Severus tuned them out, calming himself as he listened to Pinth’s whiny voice. He forced himself not to turn around, knowing he would likely strangle the seventh year. He had barely been able to restrain himself when Septimus Flint had been brought into the Headmaster’s office yesterday afternoon.

Though neither one of Flint’s parents had connections to Voldemort, they were not exactly tolerant of half-bloods. They had been unpleasantly surprised however when, after some skilled maneuvering by Albus, the fifth year had gleefully admitted his intention to join Voldemort’s cause the minute he came of age. His mother had begun crying hysterically, and Albus had gently suggested she and her husband contact a mind healer to help their son, who had seemed to be unable to stop himself from repeating over and over that he would likely someday kill Harry Potter himself.

The Restraining Spell that Albus had placed on Severus was the only thing that had stopped the Headmaster’s office from becoming the scene of a very grisly murder.

“Is he all right, Severus?” Severus brought himself back to the present with Lupin’s question, and then as Lupin noted that Harry was awake, he asked gently, “How are you feeling, Harry?” Harry shrugged against his pillow, though his eyes widened slightly as Ms. Weasley came to stand beside Lupin, laying a hand on Harry’s arm, but still he remained silent.

“Poppy said he simply blacked out,” Severus answered, beginning to worry over Harry’s reticence. Leaning forward slightly, he asked, “Harry, are you in pain?” It seemed the most reasonable explanation for his son’s silence.

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

Harry bit his lip and then winced. Damn. His entire face ached; his lips were no exception. And the three people standing around his bed were nothing but blurs, although he knew of course that it was his father, Remus and Ginny staring down at him.

Harry swallowed; his throat was very dry. “I’m thirsty,” he answered, and then he heard an impatient sigh as another face blurred into his vision.

“You can have a glass of water in a moment, Mr. Potter. Do you feel any dizziness, nausea?” Pomfrey inquired, in her usual business-like tone. Harry thought for a moment and then shook his head slowly.

“Don’t think so,” he answered.

“Excellent,” Pomfrey approved, and then commanded, “Severus, if you would help him sit up.” Harry felt his father’s hands grasping him around his left bicep, the hold firm but not rough, while the other hand moved under Harry’s back. Harry used his free hand to lever himself up with his father’s assistance.

“How does that feel, Mr. Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “Fine…my face is sore but I feel fine.” He turned slightly so that he was facing his father’s blur again. “Can I have my glasses?”

“Your glasses were broken,” his father told him, his voice calm and Harry’s insides coiled. Of course his father was perfectly composed now. And Harry didn’t know how he was going to tell him that he’d been the one to start the fight with Pinth.

“A Pain Relieving Potion, Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey told him as she brought a vial in front of his face. Harry drank it swiftly, ignoring the sour taste as he handed the vial back. It was quiet for a moment while Pomfrey waved her wand over Harry, assessing him. She made a tsk-ing sort of noise before saying quietly, “Your immune system is weakened, but otherwise you’re fine." There was a muttered incantation and Harry felt a new pair of glasses being pressed into his palm. "You are free to leave, but first Severus, Minerva would like a word with you first.”

Harry felt ill again. Surely, McGonagall knew by now that Harry had punched Pinth first. And he wanted to tell his father before she had a chance, but he couldn’t, not with everyone, especially Ginny, just standing there.

“I will be right back, Harry,” his father told him quietly and Harry nodded, swallowing nervously again, realizing belatedly that Pomfrey hadn’t gotten him his water yet. But he didn’t want to ask, as he was watching his father and Pomfrey walk toward McGonagall. Shit. His father was going to kill him. He just knew it.

“Here, Harry.” Remus’ gentle voice startled Harry a bit; he was holding out a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, not taking his eyes off his father.

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

Severus was grateful Pinth and his gang had already left the infirmary as he and Poppy walked toward Minerva. He wasted no time in coming to his point. “I expect Pinth to be expelled for this,” he said with narrowed eyes. Minerva’s eyes opened in surprise. She glanced over Severus’ shoulder. Her lips were pursed when she turned her gaze back to Severus.

“Severus,” she began, almost gently, and Severus tensed in suspicion, “Harry started the fight; he attacked Pinth.” Harry? Unable to stop himself, Severus whipped around. Harry was staring at him, his hands twisted in an anxious tangle. His bruised face paled and Severus had to turn away, realizing how much anger he had undoubtedly displayed to his son; even with this revelation, he had no desire to frighten Harry and the look on the boy’s face had reminded Severus eerily of the day he had learned the truth of Eileen’s treachery.

Carefully Occluding his mind, drawing in steadying, deep breaths, he asked after a minute, “Who told you this?” willing her to say it had been Pinth, and then Severus would know that Minerva’s statement was a lie.

“Mr. Weasley,” she answered. Severus closed his eyes. Damn. Of course the Weasley boy would not lie about Harry starting a fight.

“Why would Harry attack Mr. Pinth?” Poppy asked, her tone ringing with disbelief. Minerva cleared her throat; Severus’ eyes flew open at the nervous sound. Minerva averted her eyes.

“Mr. Pinth slurred Harry’s mother.” Severus clenched his jaw. “Apparently, Pinth was quite vicious about it,” Minerva said quietly. Severus turned away from her slightly, forcing himself to still the rage that burned through him again and he had a moment’s thought to track down the seventh year and strangle him until he no longer breathed.

“Pinth and the others were openly taunting Harry, Severus and they will be dealt with appropriately for that as well as for fighting.” Severus nodded curtly, not really caring about the punishments Minerva would dole out to the students.

“I assume you will have no objections if I deal with this directly, instead of you…in the circumstances-”

“I have no objection,” Severus cut her off, his voice stiff.

“I’m planning on assigning detentions to all the students involved for the rest of this week and next; cleaning with Argus ought to encourage them to refrain from brawling in the corridor,” she said through pinched lips. To Severus she began, “Harry-” but Poppy was already shaking her head.

“Harry is not in any condition to scrub toilets,” she said firmly.

Minerva sighed. “I know that Poppy.” She turned her sharp gaze to Severus, “But Harry’s actions cannot go unpunished,” she told him, “no matter how much he was provoked,” she said pointedly. Severus clenched his jaw as it threatened to give him away. He nodded with a jerky movement.

“I will take care of it,” Severus said coldly, the desire to deal with this aspect of his son’s behavior less appealing than it ever had been. Minerva considered him for minute, before nodding.

“As you are his father, you have the right to deal with your son as you deem appropriate.” Severus, surprised by Minerva’s bold acceptance of him, especially as it had nothing to do with whether or not students were hexing one another, took a moment before he nodded curtly. He wouldn’t tell her of course, that he had absolutely no idea how to deal with Harry. Not anymore.

His worry and anger were clashing mightily as he attempted to find a way to turn back toward his son. How could Harry have allowed himself to lose such control? Hadn’t Severus warned him to control his temper? With a frustrated noise, he realized that he had obviously failed to teach his son adequate techniques to calm himself. They would undoubtedly need to spend some time working on that. After Severus figured out just what the hell he was supposed to do about his son's egregious lack of judgment.

Minerva and Poppy were watching him carefully and Severus jaw clenched as he thought of the inevitable discussion he would have to have with his son. Perhaps Severus would need only to warn him against the dangers of losing control, but this was not the first time Harry had lost his temper when dealing with other students in the past months. But of course, Harry’s reaction was perfectly understandable.

He’d been through a terrible ordeal and it would most likely not help for Severus to lecture him. Harry was tired; he hadn’t even yet regained his strength and Severus had obviously misjudged his son’s readiness to return to classes. He hadn’t adequately prepared him for the other student’s reactions. Severus should have kept him in their quarters longer; he would have been safer that way. Safer? Severus berated himself incredulously. Harry had attacked a boy almost twice his size, for Merlin’s sake. What the hell has he been thinking? Didn’t Harry even realize how foolish that would be?

Of course he hadn’t, Severus reminded himself angrily; Harry had simply lost control again and Severus had already failed in his promise to take care him. Ignoring the way Poppy and Minerva were eyeing one another, Severus checked his shields to be sure he had his anger under control before slowly turning around to face his wayward son.

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

Harry watched his father, coming back toward the bed, and he recognized the anger immediately in the way his father held his jaw. Harry forced himself not to shy away from it; he had earned this anger. He had failed miserably in his bid not to disappoint his father.

Pomfrey had followed behind Harry’s father and both of them came to halt just in front of Harry. Pomfrey looked Harry up and down critically before saying, “If you feel dizzy again, Mr. Potter, let your father know.” Harry nodded, too nervous to actually speak. Pomfrey narrowed her eyes a touch. “And it would be wise to keep yourself away from further brawling, at least until you have regained your strength,” she told him sarcastically. Harry felt the heat creeping up his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

“Floo me if he has any further relapses, Severus.” Harry continued staring into his robe-covered lap so he had no idea if his father made any sort of response, though he heard Pomfrey swishing away. McGonagall’s’ sharp voice had Harry looking up again.

“Weasley, Longbottom, unless you wish to add to your detentions, I suggest you get to dinner. You as well, Ms. Granger,” she added. Ron, Hermione and Neville came into Harry’s view and Harry paled a bit. Ron and Neville didn’t look nearly as bad as Harry remembered Pinth had, but both of them had black eyes, along with various other bruises. Harry hadn’t even realized they’d joined the fight. Shit.

He tried to apologize with his eyes the best he could, but Ron and Neville didn’t have a chance to notice as McGonagall said icily, “Ms. Weasley, come along.” Harry twisted around. He had forgotten Ginny was even here, she’d been so quiet. With stiff movements, Ginny moved around the bed, all but glaring at the Deputy Headmistress, but she didn’t move beyond Harry’s side.

“I’ll escort her,” Remus offered before McGonagall could intervene again. McGonagall nodded before turning to usher the other Gryffindors out.

When they’d left, Ginny held out Harry’s wand. Harry blinked. How had he not even missed it? “It was on the floor,” she told him quietly. Harry took it gratefully, wishing he could ask Ginny what was wrong; she’d been much too quiet. Ginny turned abruptly to Severus.

“I don’t suppose Harry will be allowed to see me for awhile?” she asked, her tone clipped with barely restrained anger and Harry stared at her. What could she have to be angry about? Severus’ looked down at her in some surprise, and then his features stilled again.

“I believe you heard Professor McGonagall,” he said coolly. Ginny’s eyes flashed.

“Yes, I did, sir,” she said, her tone almost mocking and Harry immediately slid down from his bed to stand next to Ginny as his father’s eyes narrowed. “And I believe you understand how much Harry’s been through in the past two weeks,” she said, her tone just as icy.

“Mind your tone, Ms. Weasley,” Severus warned. Ginny balled her long fingers into fists.

“You’re Harry’s father right now, not my Professor,” she retorted. “Whatever you’re going to say to Harry, you should remember that as well,” she finished evenly and Severus clenched his jaw. Before he could respond, Remus stepped around Severus, putting his arm out to guide Ginny out of harm’s way.

“Let’s go, Ginny,” he said gently. Ginny pursed her lips, before leaning in quickly to give Harry a peck on the cheek and then she favored his father with one final glare. Remus smiled a bit at Harry as a goodbye, before firmly leading Ginny away. He did give Severus his own pointed glance before he was out of range, Harry noticed. And then the two of them were alone.

Harry fidgeted as he waited for his father to say something…anything. And he finally did. “You need to eat as well.” Harry stared at him. Eat? Surely his father would want to yell at him first. But he didn’t. He simply turned on his heel and spun away toward the door, and Harry had no choice but to follow.

Before they reached the door though, he said uncomfortably, “Maybe we should take the Floo. With all the gossip…the students might think you did this to me.” His father halted. Harry tensed as Severus ever so slowly turned around until he was facing Harry again; his eyes were cold.

“As most of the student body witnessed your little display in the corridor, that is unlikely.” And again, Harry’s cheeks warmed.

“Right,” Harry acknowledged quietly. His father’s jaw tightened before he whirled around again and strode out the door. Harry almost had to jog to keep up.

He needn’t have worried about anyone seeing them; the corridors were completely deserted and by the time they reached the corridors leading down into the dungeons, Harry began to wish they had met someone along the way, anyone that might have distracted his father, whose anger only seemed to be stoking with the long walk.

And Harry’s insides were so tightly wound when they finally reached their quarters and Severus had activated the door that he blurted, “I’m sorry,” before they’d even stepped inside. He flinched as his father spun abruptly around again.

“You’re sorry?” he hissed and Harry fell back a step. “Do you believe that excuses your behavior?” he demanded. Harry shook his head.

“No, sir,” he said quickly and for once Severus didn’t seem bothered by the title. He narrowed his eyes, but instead of responding, he flung the door open. He gestured for Harry to go inside. Harry went in quickly, feeling even worse now that his father had already lost the cool façade he had been so obviously trying to maintain.

He watched apprehensively as Severus closed the door, resting his palm against it, his head bowed and Harry wondered if he was Occluding his mind, preparing himself so that he would not lose his temper. With a stab of guilt, Harry wished he had thought to do the same earlier.

“It was a mistake to allow you to return to class. You obviously were not ready,” Severus finally said quietly, still facing the door. Harry stared at him. Where had that come from?

“I’m fine,” he told his father earnestly. “I just lost my temper,” he tried to explain. His father shook his head, and he sounded weary when he spoke again.

“You are not fine if you could lose control so completely.” Harry stiffened, knowing his father was right but not liking the allusion to his being weak.

“Pinth was completely out of line,” Harry insisted. “He said awful things about you and mum,” he explained, his voice losing some of its edge as he remembered Pinth’s words. His father finally turned around; his eyes were blank and Harry’s insides began to tighten again.

“I appreciate your intentions,” his father said stiffly, not sounding appreciative in the least, “but this will not be the last time someone slurs your mother and it certainly will not be the last time someone says something offensive about me. Pinth was trying to make you angry,” he said, shaking his head. Harry frowned.

“I know what he was trying to do, and fine,” Harry stressed, “he succeeded but he had no right to say those things.” Severus leaned in a little closer to Harry.

“And neither do you have the right to punch him for saying ‘those things’,” he pointed out evenly and for some reason, the words made Harry bristle.

“Would you say the same thing if I had punched Ron then?” he asked, his voice just shy of demanding. His father narrowed his eyes.

“Yes,” he confirmed and Harry cocked a brow at him in challenge.

“So this is not about Pinth being a Slytherin?” he asked recklessly. His father scowled at him.

“This is about you, Harry and your inability to control your temper,” he snapped. Harry looked away, his anger beginning to simmer.

“I can control my temper,” he muttered.

“Can you?” his father asked rhetorically. “So this was a demonstration of you controlling your temper, was it?” he inquired, the sarcasm weighing the words down. Harry clenched his jaw, still unwilling to look at his father for fear of letting his anger loose. He couldn’t lose his temper again.

“No,” he answered stonily.

“I sincerely hope you have something more to say than ‘no’,” his father said, and the mild threat was not lost on Harry; he looked up again.

“I’m sorry,” Harry offered again, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice, though he did try. His father shook his head.

“I am not interested in your apologies. This is not the first time you’ve lose control of your anger. At some point, Harry, you need to start taking responsibility for your actions,” he advised, his tone hardening and for some reason, his father’s statement caused the anger to boil.

“I do take responsibility for my actions!” Harry retorted angrily. “I know I lost control, all right?” His father raised his eyebrow, clearly irritated by Harry's tone.

“And do you realize that you are dangerously close to losing control again?” he inquired icily. Harry glared at him.

“No, I had no idea,” he said sarcastically. Severus’ eyes glinted and he took a step toward Harry; Harry stood his ground.

“If you cannot even manage to remain civil long enough to finish this conversation, how do you expect me to believe your reactions will be any different the next time someone taunts you?” he demanded, his voice dangerously soft. Harry’s fists began to tremble.

“People have been taunting me for years,” he retorted. “This wasn’t about me. I don’t give a damn what anybody wants to say about me!” he shot out, his voice rising into a shout. His father’s damnable eyebrow rose and Harry had had enough. “They were insulting mum and if you could have stood there and done nothing while they called her names then you really are the same unfeeling git you’ve always been!” he yelled furiously. His father’s face darkened.

“Again with the excuses, Harry?” he asked coldly. “I am beginning to think you do feel justified in whatever choices you make, no matter the consequences.” Harry began to tremble, his anger fully engaged now.

“You’re hardly the one to talk to me about choices and consequences,” he sneered, “and telling me over and over, ‘control your temper’, ‘control your tempter’…it’s too bad you didn’t tell yourself that sixteen years ago!” His father’s face paled but Harry didn’t care; he was too angry.

“Mum would still be alive and nobody would think that you had raped her! And nobody would be speculating about why in the hell you left your helpless son to the mercy of Muggles who hated the very fact that he existed. I don’t even know why in hell mum would have been glad to see you again! It’s no wonder there was no choice but to come back.” Harry froze as he realized what he’d just said; he snapped his mouth closed.

A chill went through him as Severus’ ashen face frosted over; his father's clenched jaw began to tremble, and in the next minute, his entire body was shaking. Harry wanted to take a step back, away from the fury he could feel emanating from his father, but before he could decide to do it, Severus had spun on his heel and was stalking toward his room, his black robes bristling around him. Harry stood absolutely still until he heard his father’s heavy door close with a resounding slam. The sound echoed through their quarters.

1996

Harry.

No!

Harry’s mouth snapped closed and a look of horror washed over his face. Severus’ teeth were lodged together so forcibly, they’d gone numb and he could feel himself beginning to tremble as he fought himself to remain still, to keep his fury from unleashing itself on the frightened boy in front of him. And with everything Severus had, he made himself turn away. He had to, or else he would hurt his son.

So Severus turned away, walking as quickly as he could while he tried to stop the frantic breathing that was trying to overtake him. But it was so quiet; he could hear Harry’s own anxious breathing behind him. Severus forced himself to ignore it. He could not go back. His vision was beginning to swim again but he pushed it away until he reached his door. Harry would be safe.

Severus opened the door and stepped through, allowing himself to feel some of the rage as it started pouring out and with a blistering anger, he slammed the door with all his strength. Not nearly satisfying enough.

Harry’s words washed over him again as he stood there staring at Lily’s desk, and with a vicious snarl born of self-loathing, Severus flung the chair from where it stood, and then he wasted no time in giving the heavy desk a mighty shove so that it was upended, a testament to his rapidly rising fury. And in those next minutes, Severus completely lost control and nobody but he existed. He was completely alone. And there was nothing but hurt.

He had abandoned his son. Condemned him to ten years of hatred at the hands of people, who should have loved him, should have given a damn about him. And then for five years, Severus had tortured him, abused him in ways for which he would never forgive himself. Harry should never forgive him either.

No matter how much his son professed to be okay, no matter how much Lily had said Harry had needed to love him, how could his son love a creature so wretched, so foul as he? He was a man filled with hate, with such darkness that there was nothing but cruel bile; he should be a father to no one. It didn’t matter how much he loved the boy. He didn’t deserve Harry and he never would. In a final thrust of rage, Severus smashed both of his fists into his bureau and then he relished in the blinding pain.

When he came back to himself, Severus was standing in a floundering mess, surrounded by the remnants of his anger. The bedcovers were torn from their perch, the night table and its pictures strewn across the floor; his knuckles were bloodied. Severus’ anger was drained now…spent. The violence he’d enacted on his wife’s furniture would never touch his son.

Using the bare mattress to lean one of his abused hands on, Severus bent to retrieve the frame that had crashed against the stone floor. He straightened again, staring at the boy blinking back up at him. Albus had given the photo to him over a month ago and Severus had placed it next to his only other photo. He didn’t stoop to pick that one up; she would be ashamed of him today.

Severus ran his thumb along the inside edge of the frame, taking in the sorrow-filled emerald eyes of his boy; it had only been days since Harry had lost Black. And now, only weeks after Harry had thought he’d lost Severus, Severus had completely failed him. How could he stand here and demand that Harry learn to control his emotions when he couldn’t even do it himself?

He had let his concern morph itself into anger, as he so often had in the past. Who the hell was he to tell Harry not to hit a taunting, bullying little shit? Severus had hexed more than one bully in his life; he shook his head in rueful remembrance of the many times he’d punished Harry’s beloved godfather for his cruelty. And even James…

True, Lupin had usually escaped his ire, especially after the incident at the Whomping Willow… Severus shook his head, cutting off the unproductive line of thought.

He truly was not suited to be anyone’s father, and certainly not Harry’s. With a distracted sigh, Severus began righting his room again; it wouldn’t do for Harry to see just how much his words had affected him, and with a pang of guilt, he was grateful that the Silencing Spell surrounding his room had kept Harry from hearing his tantrum.

“Damn,” he muttered as he finally squatted down to pick up Lily’s picture once everything else had been put back in its proper place—the glass had cracked with the force of his violence. It wasn’t the first time he’d broken a picture of his beloved wife.

Severus frowned as he cast a Reparo on the glass, thinking of Highlands Cottage, where he’d sequestered himself after he’d abandoned his family. He hadn’t been there in years. He had been surprised that Harry had shown an interest in going there, although in retrospect it made sense.

With a last look at Lily’s smiling face, Severus set the frame next to his son’s picture and turned back toward his door. His anger spent now, more than anything, he wanted to talk to his son. If Harry would let him…

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

Harry flinched as the door slammed. He felt cold...icy with fear.

What had he done?

How could he have said those things to his father? He hadn’t meant them…he knew he hadn’t. Of course Lily had loved him. Harry had seen it with his own eyes and he knew without even thinking it over that she must have welcomed him back without hesitation. And Harry felt all of sudden wretched. How could he have brought up those awful memories?

Reminding his father of how he had left had been cruel. Plain and simple. And he hadn’t even realized he was still hurt over it. He had even told his father that he’d forgiven him. He had forgiven him. Harry felt sick as he stared into the corridor.

Harry wanted to run after his father, to try to explain that he hadn’t meant what he’d said…not any of it. But he couldn’t move. His father had been furious and though it made Harry ill to admit it, for a brief moment, he had been afraid. Afraid that Severus would hit him; Harry shuddered.

His father would hate him now. Any minute, he would storm out and order Harry to leave, and Harry knew he would deserve it.

Shame coursed through him as he stood there, wishing he could call the words back; how could he have been so heartless? His father had been carrying around the guilt of his mistakes for fifteen years and Harry had actually been callous enough to throw it in his face? His father had been right about his need for control, and now Harry’s temper was going to cost him his father.

Not even bothering to fight against the tears forming in his eyes, Harry turned toward the Floo. Maybe if he could just leave before his father had to tell him to, he could spare the man any more pain. Harry paused, with his fingers over his father’s ebony box of Floo Powder. It would probably be best if Harry didn’t leave anything behind; his father didn’t need any reminders of his coldhearted son.

Swallowing painfully through the harsh emotion, Harry turned and walked with tentative steps toward the room his father had given him. His room; his father had accepted him and Harry had ruined it. But of course he had; nobody had ever wanted him so why should this be any different?

Harry didn’t mean to stop in front of his father’s door; he didn’t mean to stare at the heavy wooden door. Maybe if he just knocked…tried to explain. Harry bit his lip. His father wouldn’t forgive him…

He turned away.

Harry walked into his room, and went without thinking to the little table beside the bed. His mum’s photo album. Harry Snape. The name stabbed him dully in the chest.

He picked up the leather-bound book, sitting heavily on the bed as the remorse and guilt swept over him. What the hell had he done? He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stand up and march back to his father’s door and demand that his father forgive him, but with another wave of shame, he knew he had no right.

He’d already told his father he forgave him…for everything. His father would never believe that he hadn’t meant what he’d said, and there was no way Harry could ask for forgiveness when his father wouldn’t understand that he’d been forgiven as well. There wouldn’t be any way to make him understand.

Severus had done everything he could do to atone for his mistake and Harry, the entire time, had pushed against it. Pulling the photo album like a lifeline into his chest, Harry stared desolately at his father’s door.

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

Ginny’s fingers were curled tightly against her palms, her finger nails grazing the skin in agitation. She had no trouble keeping up with Lupin’s longer strides. She was walking so swiftly, she was having a hard time not breaking into a run.

“Ginny.” Professor Lupin’s gentle voice startled her out of her reverie. And then she realized the voice had come from behind her and she halted. She turned around sharply, about to demand why he had stopped, but the concern wrinkling his features stopped her. She let out a sigh.

“Sorry,” she offered. Lupin frowned down at her.

“Ginny, if you’d like to talk about it, I’ll listen,” he told her seriously and Ginny shook her head, agitated all over again.

“If he does anything to Harry-” she couldn’t even finish the threat, she was so worried and her fists clenched more tightly at her sides. Lupin tilted his head in confusion.

“Ginny, Severus would never lay a hand on Harry,” he told her, sounding surprised that she would suggest such a thing. Ginny shook her head, frustrated.

“I know that,” she agreed. Ginny had seen the two of them together and each time Snape had interacted with Harry, she had been shocked at how gentle the Potions Master was. It was though Snape was terrified that Harry would crack with the slightest jostle, as though Harry was as delicate as one of the spun glass ornaments her mum decorated their Christmas tree with each year. And each time Ginny had seen them together, her respect and admiration for the man had grown…until today.

Snape had been livid in the Hospital Wing and Ginny had seen that same look before. Out by the Whomping Willow; the day that all of Harry’s insecurities about his father’s abandonment had finally come tumbling out. But before they had, Ginny had witnessed how harsh Harry’s father could be and she had seen how much he really had hurt Harry. And if he did that again today, well…Ginny would see that Snape would regret it. All of it.

“What do you mean then?” Lupin prodded after she’d lost herself in her thoughts. Ginny clenched her jaw.

“You saw the look he gave Harry,” she said pointedly. “It’s like he reverted back for an instant to the old Professor Snape,” she shook her head angrily again, “and if he stays that way, I don’t think Harry will be able to handle it.” Lupin studied her, seeming to consider her words.

“Ginny,” he finally said, his voice gentle again, “Severus cares about Harry-” Ginny made a slashing motion with her hand, scowling deeply.

“I know that, Professor. But a person can’t change completely. And he’s never had a real reason to be angry with Harry. What if he insults Harry, just like he used to, sneering all over the place and calling him a worthless show-off?” Lupin looked away quickly and Ginny tensed, seeing that Lupin was worried about the same thing happening. She took a step toward the Professor.

“You think it’s a possibility, don’t you?” she demanded. She didn’t think he would answer but finally, he turned back and nodded, his eyes full of sadness. She folded her arms across her chest. “We have to go check on them, then,” she decided firmly, but as soon as she said it, Lupin was shaking his head. She opened her mouth to argue but Lupin held up his hand.

“If you or I go charging in there every time the two of them have a problem, it only reinforces that Severus hasn’t changed…that Harry still needs our help.” Ginny closed her mouth slowly. Lupin smiled at her.

“Severus is a different person than even he was before Halloween. He won’t let anything come between them, Ginny…even if he turns into Snape again for a bit, they’ll get through it,” he told her firmly. Ginny pursed her lips.

“You trust him that much?” she asked. Lupin nodded immediately.

“Yes, I do,” he said seriously, his eyes firm and Ginny relaxed a little.

“All right,” she nodded. “But will you check in with Professor Snape later, anyway…tonight?” she asked, still concerned, as she had been all week, for Harry. Lupin chuckled as he nodded his acquiescence. They started walking again toward the Great Hall.

“I’m still worried about Harry though,” she confided as they walked. When Lupin gave her a quizzical glance, she explained, “He’s been acting very funny lately. He gets angry at the littlest thing and then he’s fine again. I don’t even think he realizes something’s bothering him.” Lupin nodded.

“He’s been through a terrible ordeal. And I think he’s been keeping all his feeling’s bottled up.” Ginny nodded thoughtfully.

“He’s been sort of like a tea kelting,” she said with a small smile. Lupin looked at her in confusion. “Ron used to call it that. You know…a tea kettle. He’s been boiling under the surface and all those emotions had to find a way to escape…just like the steam does,” she explained. Lupin smiled in amusement at her ramble, but she barely noticed. “Kids have been taunting him about this almost non-stop,” she said quietly. “I think Pinth was just the last straw.”

Her fists clenched again as she thought of the smug Slytherin and she wished she’d been there to send a few hexes in his direction. Remus was nodding solemnly, his own jaw tensed in uncharacteristic anger. And Ginny wondered if he was imagining the sorts of hexes he would have liked to direct toward Pinth.

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

Severus pulled open his bedroom door. He halted. Harry was sitting on his bed, staring straight ahead, Lily’s photo album clutched to his chest; he’d obviously been watching Severus’ door.

As soon as Harry saw Severus, he shot to his feet. Severus’ heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Harry was shaking slightly, his eyes red-rimmed. And he was breathing in sharp, jagged breaths.

He looked terrified and again Severus felt the pain of the years he’d spent fearing his own father. Severus tempered his flames and walked with slow steps into his son’s room; Harry didn’t flinch away and Severus was grateful. Severus stopped a few feet from his son and offered quietly, “I’m sorry.” Harry stared at him for a long minute and then he nodded, looking resigned.

“I understand, sir,” he said, his voice shaky and Severus studied him silently, not certain what Harry had meant by that and he was frankly startled when his son asked, “Can I-can I take this…” he trailed off, looking unsure and utterly miserable. Severus shook his head in confusion.

“Take it?” he repeated, assuming Harry meant the photo album. “Where?” he asked. Harry looked away.

“Back to the Tower, sir,” he said quietly and Severus felt a jolt of pain at the words. Harry had been frightened enough, then…enough that he wanted to leave. Severus didn’t want to hurt his son any more, but he could not allow him to leave; not when he was not ready.

Severus stilled his emotions before he answered, “The album is yours, but you will need to remain here for now. I cannot allow you to leave when you are not fully ready,” he said gruffly, unable to hide his emotions completely. Harry head snapped back.

“You’re not going to make me leave?” he blurted. Severus stared at him.

“What?” he asked, bewildered. Harry bit his lip as he looked away again and Severus could see the tears filling his son’s green eyes.

“Because of what I said…” he whispered. Severus’ chest constricted again at the anguish in his son’s voice.

“Harry…” he floundered as he studied his son’s dejected form and he frowned slightly, as he realized Harry wasn’t frightened after all, “…of course I would not make you leave,” he assured him. Harry’s fingers tensed against the leather in his hands.

The sound of the Floo had Severus making a sound of annoyance low in his throat. “Albus,” he muttered before spinning from Harry, stalking with narrowed eyes, back into the sitting room. He was encouraged by Harry’s quick footsteps behind him.

Albus was already waiting in the middle of the comfortable room. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he greeted. Severus frowned in response.

“Do you need something, Albus?” he asked. The Headmaster nodded, frowning slightly as well.

“Filius came to see me,” he began. “It seems Hermione has been quite insistent that he help her find as much information as possible about the Impentribiilus Charm,” he explained, with a look of disapproval at Harry. Severus turned slightly to look at his son.

“Did you speak with Ms. Granger about the Charm?” he inquired, no accusation in his voice, just curiosity. Harry shook his head, rather frantically it seemed.

“No, sir,” he all but exclaimed. Severus turned back to Albus, disturbed by his son’s discomfort. Albus was watching Harry carefully and then he turned back to Severus, his eyes lit in appraisal.

“I’ve asked Filius not to give her any more assistance, though of course I didn’t enlighten him as to why,” he finally said. Severus inclined his head.

“Of course.” Albus nodded, his eyes still considering. Severus narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion.

“Was that the only reason for your visit?” he asked dryly and Albus smiled slightly in immediate understanding.

“I did wish to inquire after Harry,” he replied.

“Indeed?” Severus crossed his arms over his chest. “And are you satisfied with how you find him?” he asked sarcastically. Albus raised an eyebrow.

“I am,” he conceded. A pause and then he said, “I will have to speak to Hermione should she persist in her questions.”

“Yes, do,” Severus answered with a bit of sneer. Albus favored him with a cool look before turning to Harry.

“I was glad to hear you weren’t seriously injured after your fight with Pinth,” he said sincerely. Harry bit his lip.

“Thank you, sir,” he offered in a low voice, darting a nervous glance at Severus. Again Albus glanced between the two, before nodding once.

“Good night then. Severus, I will wish to speak with you tomorrow afternoon.” Severus nodded. Albus smiled and turned away to the Floo. As soon as the flames had faded away again, Severus turned to face Harry. Harry’s fingers were tangled together again, in nervous agitation.

Before Severus could speak, Harry uttered an almost silent, “I’m sorry.” Severus shook his head, resigned now that he understood Harry was feeling guilt over what he’d said earlier. He would have preferred anger, though he was infinitely grateful that it wasn't fear his son was feeling.

“There is no need to apologize for expressing your feelings,” he told his son, hoping Harry would understand that Severus accepted the way Harry felt.

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

Harry stared at his father, his stomach churning with unease. Harry had to make him understand. “I don’t feel that way,” he said quietly, twisting the sleeves of his robes in his fingers. “I already forgave you,” Harry told him and then swallowing loudly, he admitted, “but it still hurts. I’m sorry,” he said again miserably, wishing he didn’t have to say it aloud but he didn’t know how else to convince his father he hadn’t meant the terrible words. His father quirked his upper lip in a sad imitation of a smile.

“Harry, it would be astonishing if you were not still hurt because I left you and your mother,” he murmured and Harry had to bite back the sorrow he felt as he looked into his father’s eyes.

“But I shouldn’t have said it,” he whispered, fighting hard to hold back the tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he offered. Severus waved away his apology.

He gestured for Harry to sit on the sofa and when he did, his father sat next to him, studying him for a moment before saying roughly, “It is immaterial.” Harry stared at him, but he didn’t have a chance to disagree as his father continued, “I am more concerned that you understand the circumstances surrounding my trip beyond the veil.” He gazed at Harry, his black eyes intent.

“I want you to understand that I came back solely for you, not because of the incorrect assumption that your mother did not wish me to stay.” Harry shifted uncomfortably as he stared at his hands.

“I know that,” he whispered. There was a short silence.

“Your words would indicate otherwise.”

Harry looked up quickly. He shook his head, not wanting to see that hurt in his father’s eyes anymore. “No, I do. I didn’t mean it,” he insisted. “I don’t even know why I said that about mum,” he said wretchedly, turning away again.

“You were angry,” his father offered, his voice still too soft. Harry frowned.

“But I saw how much she loved you…in the Pensieve and in your memories,” he tried to explain. “I know she wouldn’t feel that way. I’m sorry,” he said again, “I’m sorry I said that.”

And his father’s hand was on his knee and Harry felt a great wave of relief coursing through him. But still, he had to ask, “How can you not still be furious with me?” He stared at his father’s rough hand while he waited for an answer. His muscles pinched when Severus sighed.

“I was not angry with you, Harry,” he told him. Harry chanced a look up at those black eyes; they were turbulent with remorse. “You reminded me of things I do not care to relive,” he explained and Harry had to look away again, as the guilt swelled his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, disgusted with himself for being so cruel. The hand on his knee squeezed quickly before pulling away.

“Please do stop apologizing, Harry. There is no need for it,” Severus said. “It was no more than I deserve.” Harry looked up sharply.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said fiercely. He shook his head when Severus opened his mouth. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice sounding almost desperate, but he couldn’t stand the idea that his father would think he had been deliberately cruel. “I just lost my temper,” he attempted to explain, wanting to turn away again, as the shame was threatening to bury him. How many times was he going to use that pathetic excuse?

“I know you were not purposely trying to be hurtful, Harry,” his father said and then he shook his head, his eyes filled with grief. “But it does not change the truthfulness of your words.” Harry wanted to protest but his father held up his hand.

“Not about your mother, no,” Severus acknowledged. “What passed between your mother and I is between us, but I believe she would want you to understand that she forgave me. There was no acrimony between us.” Harry gazed at his father for a few seconds.

“I know that,” he repeated firmly. His father inclined his head briefly, before pursing his lips.

“The rest however was complete and absolute truth,” he clarified in a hard tone and Harry began to feel nervous again, just as he had begun to feel like perhaps his father wouldn’t hate him. “Because I didn’t learn to control my temper,” Severus continued, “I left that night as soon as Lily told me you weren’t my son. I lost control and fled,” he said, his voice not quite stiff, though it was solemn.

“If I had remained in control of my emotions, your mother and James might not have died and you certainly would not have been without a father for fifteen years, and that in itself should be enough of a reason for you to learn to control your temper.” His father was watching him, his eyes still tumultuous and Harry could feel the emotions brimming up through his throat, begging to be freed into tears.

Severus leaned forward, keeping his eyes intently focused on Harry. “That is what is important. That is what I should have explained to you earlier. I do not give a damn about you hitting Pinth.” Harry stared at his father, dumbfounded.

“But you said-” Harry protested. Severus shook his head.

“Your hitting him is not the issue here.” He frowned. “You’ve been allowed, and frankly, encouraged for years, to run headlong into situations without giving appropriate thought to the consequences.” Harry looked away, the feeling of guilt, shame and resentment churning inside him. His father sighed again.

“Do not misunderstand my words.” Harry didn’t answer. “Harry,” Severus coaxed, his voice hardening and Harry slid his eyes back. “Can you deny this is true?” Harry bit his lip, wanting to say of course it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t lie to his father. Not anymore. So he shook his head.

“No, sir,” he answered resignedly. Severus considered him.

“Every time you did that, you put yourself in danger. And most of those times, everything worked out, but it may not always be so and I will not lose you, Harry,” he said, his voice almost hoarse with its roughness. Harry’s throat closed.

“And it does not matter how unfair it is that you are not allowed the fits of temper that most adolescents indulge in; you are different, no matter how much we both wish it were not so,” his father said wearily. “You will have to face Voldemort and when that time comes, your ability to control yourself will likely mean the difference between success and failure.” His father held his gaze. “Even by your side, I cannot force you to keep yourself under control; I will however do all I can to help you learn to master your emotions so that you will be ready.”

His father sat back against the sofa. “And this, Harry is why I was so angry.” Harry didn’t understand.

“What do you mean?” he asked hesitantly, not sure he wanted to understand.

“This is what I wanted to say. I was concerned about you, but that concern came out in anger.” He grimaced. “Even now, my own control is lacking,” he admitted. Harry could have argued with that. To his thinking, his father had controlled himself remarkably well.

“You’re really not mad that I pummeled Pinth’s face in?” he asked suddenly, completely bewildered. His father raised an eyebrow.

“I am not pleased by your behavior,” his father assured him and Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach. “But I am more concerned about the level of your loss of control than with where that loss led you.” Harry was pretty sure he was staring at his father as though the man had lost his mind. His father’s lip lifted in his half-smile. “I would be equally concerned had you destroyed a roomful of some old coot’s magical knick knacks.” Harry flushed. Damn Dumbledore anyway.

“All right,” Harry conceded after the heat in his cheeks had subsided a bit. “I do have a problem with my temper.” His father nodded, though there was nothing smug about the movement.

“You do.”

“So, what’s it going to be?” he asked, sounding slightly forlorn against his will. “Cauldrons? Frogs…” Harry’s face twisted in disgust. His father didn’t smile, only narrowed his eyes a little.

“Do you actually understand that you had another choice? That your reaction to Pinth was not inevitable?” he demanded, his voice earnest as he learned forward again. Harry chewed the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“I wasn’t thinking…” he sort of answered. His father shook his head, the movement sharp.

“That is an excuse,” he insisted and Harry recoiled from his father’s harsh tone. Severus was silent for a long moment before he wanted to know, “How many times did he insult you before you hit him?” Harry dropped his eyes, uncomfortable with his father’s dark stare. He shook his head.

“Just a few.”

“And what were doing while he was baiting you?”

Harry didn’t want to answer; he didn’t want to go over this again, but he didn’t really see that he had any choice. “Trying to walk away,” he finally admitted as he looked up, beginning to see that his father might be circling around to some point. His father pursed his lips.

“And something he said made you stop walking, correct?” Harry nodded reluctantly, hoping his father wouldn’t ask what it had been that made him stop, but he knew that was hardly likely.

And so he answered before his father could even ask the question, “He said you were a coward.” Severus looked briefly surprised.

“Why should that concern you?” he wanted to know. Harry shrugged, sliding his eyes away from his father again.” “Harry,” his father said, a slight warning in his voice and Harry sighed.

“They were talking about when you were,” he swallowed thickly as he tried not to think of his still-present nightmares, “…what happened on Halloween.” He shrugged again. “I don’t like to think about it, I guess.” His father nodded slowly.

“Do you feel anger when you remember what happened to me?” he asked. Harry tensed as he nodded swiftly. “Are you angry with Voldemort…or with me?” Harry’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Voldemort!” he exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists on his knees. His father’s hand lightly covered Harry’s fisted fingers.

“It would be a perfectly reasonable reaction for you to have some resentment toward me,” he told him. Harry shook his head, almost wildly in his haste to assure his father he wasn’t angry with him, but his father applied a firm pressure to his tensed fingers as he added, “It was my choice after all, to attend the meeting and it was I who allowed Voldemort to discover our secret.” Harry jerked his hands away from his father, as he began to tremble slightly.

“I’m not angry with you,” he denied hotly. His father raised a thin eyebrow.

“Why are you trying so hard not to be angry?” he asked quietly. Harry looked away. He couldn’t explain that. How was he supposed to tell his father he had promised not to disappoint him anymore, when he’d already failed so miserably?

“Harry,” his father was saying firmly, “You have been keeping your feelings in for far too long. I allowed you your silence, waiting until you were ready to talk; it was a mistake. You need to talk to me,” he said simply. Harry shook his head.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why?” his father asked, his voice soft again.

Harry pinched his lips together, considering which would be worse…to admit to his father that he was a failure or disappoint him again with his refusal to answer? Harry sagged, knowing there was really only once choice. “I promised I wouldn’t disappoint you anymore,” he finally admitted, his voice barely audible, even to his own ears. His father looked confused.

“I do not remember that.”

Harry shook his head. “When I wasn’t sure if you were going to—that you were going to be okay…I told you that I would do better, with everything…” he didn’t finish, seeing very little point as his father was staring at him and Harry was sure he was about to pronounce that Harry really had failed spectacularly at that, hadn’t he now? But his father’s eyes seemed to dull with pain, or maybe sadness as he shook his head; he leaned back against the cushions in a way that didn't seem to quite match Severus Snape

“So you’ve been trying for a week now to ensure that you do nothing to upset me?” he asked wearily. He seemed very disturbed by the idea. Harry flushed.

“Yes, sir.” His father frowned and pulled himself up again.

“It was never my intention to give you the impression that you were disappointing me,” he told him, the unhappiness in his eyes echoed in his tone. “On the contrary, Harry,” he said seriously, “I would not have believed I could be so proud of anyone.” Harry bit his lip as he struggled to control the warring emotions inside him.

“How can you say that?” he demanded in a whisper. “I lost control twice today, started a brawl in the corridor and I said things so cruel to you that you shouldn’t even be talking to me right now!” he argued fiercely, his hands balling into fists again and a few traitor tears slipped past his lashes. He swiped at them furiously. His father sighed.

“You can forgive me, but I do not have the same right?” he queried, sounding even more tired than he had a minute ago. Harry glared at him, not sure why this should annoy him so much.

“But you didn’t even have a chance to forgive me!” he objected. “You just came right back out here and tried to make me feel better.” Severus shook his head again.

“You are missing the point,” he asserted. “The mistakes you make do not change the way I regard you,” he said simply. That brought Harry up short.

“They don’t?” Harry asked in surprise. His father smiled a tiny bit.

“No,” he assured him. “I expect you will make many more mistakes in your life,” he said lightly and Harry finally allowed a small smile to grace his lips, though he was feeling virtually humourless. His father studied him for a long minute. “Do you understand why you are so anxious that I accept you?” he finally broke the silence. Harry shrugged, having no idea how to answer that.

When he didn’t answer, Severus leaned forward slightly so that he was only centimeters from Harry. “How many times did you attempt to gain some sort of acceptance from the Dursleys?” he asked intently. Harry felt a warm flush creep up his neck.

“I don’t know.”

His father nodded once. “You already have my acceptance and if you are waiting for me to prove to you that I do not want you, you should know, Harry that you are waiting in vain.” Harry didn’t say anything, not knowing how to respond, but his father didn’t seem to mind. He had much more to say.

“When Pinth called me a coward, what did you do?”

Harry blinked at the abrupt change in topic, but he answered anyway, “I pulled my wand on him,” with a fair amount of embarrassment. His father nodded, unconcerned with Harry's chagrin.

“And that is the point at which your control began to slip,” he concluded.

“Yes, sir,” Harry admitted quietly. His father gazed at him.

“How long was it until you lost control?” he asked. Harry fidgeted under his father’s black gaze, not wanting him to finally make his point.

“A few minutes maybe,” he answered. Severus nodded.

“And in those few minutes, what were you thinking about?” Harry furrowed his brow as he thought. What had he been thinking about right then?

“I was wishing he would just shut up,” he remembered with a scowl.

“Then perhaps it would have been a good idea to simply put a Silencing Spell on him…or even perform a Petrificus Totalus,” he suggested easily. Harry blinked.

“You’re saying I should have hexed him?” he wondered. His father sat back again against the blue cushions.

“Would you have lost control if Pinth had stopped talking right then?” he inquired, seeming to want an actual answer. Harry shrugged.

“I guess not…” He tilted his head in confusion. “But aren’t you supposed to tell me to just walk away?” His father raised a brow.

“Could you have walked away?” he asked seriously. Harry chewed his bottom lip.

“No,” he told his father honestly. Severus seemed to shrug.

“Then you take the next best course of action.” How was it that a man whom Harry never would have believed could know anything about being reasonable, always managed to be so damned logical?

Trying to lighten the mood a bit, Harry queried, “So I have your permission then to hex other students?” But his father’s face remained passive.

“If it means you will retain control of your emotions,” he allowed. Harry sagged a little with the realization that his father was still hurt about what he had said earlier. Well, of course he was still upset, Harry scolded himself. You were awful. He started to apologize again, but his father straightened again.

“It is late,” he informed Harry. Harry pursed his lips against the sigh that wanted to escape. He knew it wasn’t really that late but his father’s eyes were heavily shadowed, the lines of fatigue sharp amidst his features. He was obviously exhausted and most likely, tired of dealing with his irksome son.

“All right,” he gave in. After a bit of hesitation, he asked hesitantly, “Will you help me with my mediations though?” Severus’ face relaxed a bit and his eyes warmed. He patted Harry’s knee.

“Of course, Harry,” he agreed. “I will come in momentarily.” Harry nodded. He stood up. His father stayed on the sofa, though his eyes were still steadily watching him. Harry wanted to say something, wanted to try to explain again, just so he could take away his father’s pain, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better.

So he just went to his room and got dressed for bed, like his father asked him to, feeling completely miserable.

He changed fairly quickly and when his father didn’t come in, he headed tentatively back to the sitting room. Harry stopped as soon as he reached the sitting room. His father was still sitting on the sofa, his head bowed, the pads of his fingertips pressed into his eyes, while his elbows rested on his knees.

Harry felt shame wash over him again. He had done this with his thoughtless words, cut his father so deeply, the man actually looked despondent…and worn out. With the muscles in his gut quivering madly, Harry stepped back a pace and went back to his room; he was positive his father wouldn’t want him to see him like that.

He waited on his bed, his fingers tracing mindlessly along the pattern in the bedcover. It seemed a long time before his father knocked on the wall outside his room. Harry didn’t answer and his father didn’t seem to expect him to; he came in, his eyebrows raised in question. “Are you ready?” he asked. Harry nodded as he hurried to get under the covers. Severus sat on the edge of the bed, as he always did when they did this exercise.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed and Harry obeyed. “What image is most prominent when you think about that night?” Harry’s eyes flew open. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. His father nodded his understanding of Harry’s confusion, but he didn’t take back the question as he waited for a response.

Harry studied the veins in the stone wall as he answered, “I could hear you…calling me,” he said stiffly. “It had to be—if it was so bad that you cried out-” Harry gasped in a breath as he struggled to calm down. He felt his father’s thumb brushing his fringe aside and Harry turned his head toward the touch, eased by it. He found his father’s eyes and they were gentle.

“I wasn’t calling out in pain,” he explained softly. “I was thinking about you, worrying about you.” Harry furrowed his brow.

“You were worried about me? Even then?” he asked in amazement. Severus smiled a little as he shook his head.

“Of course I was, Harry.” He studied Harry for a minute before saying casually, “I asked Lupin to take care of you if anything happened to me.” Harry’s mouth fell open.

“You did?” he asked incredulously. His father nodded, looking slightly amused by Harry’s amazement. “But you don’t even really like him.” His father’s eyes shrugged.

“There is no one who would take better care of you.”

The quiet willingness to do whatever was best for him, no matter what it cost his father, filled Harry again with shame. Over and over Severus did nothing but care for him and Harry had repaid him with cruelty. He closed his eyes, feeling ill. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, though he’d lost count of how many times he’d said that tonight and it had probably lost all meaning with his father. His father sighed.

“Harry, you’ve apologized more than enough times. And I already told you that it is not necessary.”

“Stop saying that!” Harry demanded as he pushed himself to sit up. “Stop being so nice to me! I was horrible to you and you didn’t even get angry about it!” He was nearly shouting and his father looked briefly taken aback before his eyes narrowed slightly.

“And you wish I would be angry with you?” he asked, curiosity plaguing his words.

“No!” Harry denied loudly and then let himself fall soundly back against his headboard. The loud thwack had him reaching up to rub the sharp sting out of the back of his head; he grimaced. “Ow,” he muttered. His father brought his hand up to Harry’s head as well, rubbing at the same spot absently, his eyes far away. After a few moments of silence, Severus brought his gaze back; his hand fell to the bed.

“I think you do wish me to be angry. In fact,” his father stressed thoughtfully, “I think you are going to continue to try to push me until you go far enough that you think I will send you away. That is what you were expecting today, was it not?” Harry stared at his father. His father leaned in and Harry wished he wasn’t trapped against the headboard. “That I would storm out of my room and demand that you go?” Severus leaned in even more and Harry could smell the cloves, though it wasn’t at all comforting this time.

“Harry,” he said firmly, though his voice was very soft, “you are my son. I’ve told you before that nothing will change that and no matter what you say, or what you do, you will always have a home with me.” He let that sink in before pulling back abruptly. Harry continued to stare and found himself thoroughly confused when his father smirked at him.

“But as you seem to need some sort of reassurance that I am indeed angry with you…let’s discuss the matter of your punishment, shall we?” he asked, his voice lilting with feigned generosity and Harry could feel the stone forming in the pit of his stomach. His father either didn’t notice his anxiety or he pretended not to because he continued on blithely, “Your friends have been assigned cleaning duty with Filch for the remainder of this week and the next,” with an air of consideration.

“Two weeks?” Harry stammered. Bloody hell. His father nodded.

“You however, are in no shape for manual labor, not to mention that I will not allow Argus Filch within ten meters of you.” Harry swallowed nervously though it was solely for Filch, as his father’s voice had lowered dangerously around the caretaker’s name.

“The same time frame should suffice though. Outside of classes and meals, you will not be allowed to see your friends. Should you go back to the Tower before that time is up, we will re-evaluate,” he decided, reciting the punishment as though it was simply a list of ingredients for a new potion.

Ignoring his father’s reference to the Tower, as well as the restriction from inviting his friends down, Harry asked, “You’re going to let me go back to class then?” hoping his father hadn’t misspoken. His father studied him before nodding.

“You will attend Potions class in the afternoon tomorrow. I will need to make some arrangements tomorrow morning before you can return.” Harry nodded quickly, though he really wanted to ask what sort of arrangements his father planned to make but he decided he’d better not push it.

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Severus sat on his son’s bed far longer than was necessary as Harry was sleeping soundly within minutes. There really was no reason to continue to sit here and yet, he sat. He watched Harry sleeping peacefully, until he felt satisfied that his son was undisturbed by nightmares and then he got up carefully, pulling the blanket up a bit around Harry’s shoulders before turning from the room.

Harry had been very quiet after Severus had doled out his punishment, speaking only as much as was necessary as they went through Harry’s exercise and his son seemed to be doing his best to avoid making eye contact. Severus didn’t know what to attribute the behavior to and frankly, he’d been too exhausted to do any prodding. He expected though that over the next few days, Harry’s discomfort would remain.

Severus sighed as he ignored the call from his bed, going instead toward his lab. He had much to consider before tomorrow. As much as he didn’t think Harry was emotionally ready to return to class, being confined to these small quarters would most likely not contribute to his return to sound mental health. Especially now that he felt so much guilt for his earlier words, but Severus didn’t know how to make Harry see that he did not blame him for saying it, or for still being hurt by everything that had happened.

Severus almost groaned when he heard the faint ring that announced a visitor: Lupin. Since there was very little point in being annoyed, he went to the door and swung it open. Lupin smiled beyond the threshold.

“Good evening, Severus,” he offered. Severus grunted in response, turning away to allow Lupin to let himself in. He heard the door closing as he continued on to his lab, as well as Lupin’s soft footsteps behind him. Not even bothering to ask Lupin why he was here, Severus began removing the Stasis Shields from several of the busy cauldrons. After he’d nodded over all of them in satisfaction, he began halving fish eyes with practiced ease.

“Is Harry asleep already?” Lupin finally asked, and Severus restrained the urge to roll his eyes, but as it would have been much too undignified, he settled for a muted nod. “Sent him to bed early, did you?” Severus looked up sharply. Lupin’s eyes were dancing with amusement and Severus frowned in thought. He quickly cast a Tempus Charm. It wasn’t even nine-thirty yet. And then with a guilty start, Severus realized Harry hadn’t eaten dinner. How could he have forgotten to feed his son? And Harry hadn’t even mentioned it…

“Did Harry ever say anything about those Muggles to you?” he asked Lupin abruptly. Lupin frowned in thought.

“Not much,” he shook his head, slowly. He grimaced. “When we went to fetch him last summer, he was locked in his room though…” Severus stiffened, his hand stilling over the fish eyes. “…and I think Molly got the impression that they didn’t feed him much…”

With a quiet growl, Severus went to his cupboard and snatched a Nutritive Potion from a shelf. With a glare at Lupin, he left the lab. He went quickly to his son’s room, pushing the door open quietly. Harry was still sleeping peacefully and Severus wondered if he should simply wake him up and make him eat, but the boy obviously needed the extra sleep…the Potion would have to do for now.

He Spelled it into his son’s stomach, vanishing the vial as soon as the liquid was gone. Then he sat gingerly on the bed, watching his son’s face with regret. He reached out to smooth his son’s fringe away from his eyes, his insides clenching painfully. He was no better than Lily’s wretched sister…

The emotion boiled up as he sat there and silently, against his will, his eyes filled with the tears of so much regret. How could he have done this to his son? They could have had so many years…fifteen years destroyed with one mistake.

He did not allow the tears to fall, pulling them back until his eyes were clear again; tears would not undo the damage he had done. Severus stood up, careful not to jostle the bed. After a short hesitation, he bent over as gently as he could and pressed a light kiss to Harry’s forehead and then he smoothed his boy's fringe once more before straightening up.

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Remus watched Severus storming out of the lab, clutching a Nutritive Potion in his fisted hand. He frowned. He had thought Harry was eating again, at least well enough that he didn’t need Nutritive Potions anymore…and Severus had said Harry was asleep. He had a strong urge to follow Severus and demand an explanation, but he didn’t. He had told Ginny that he trusted Severus and he did.

Remus didn’t have to wait long for Severus to return. The Potions Master was scowling deeply as he came back into the lab. Severus went right back to halving Fish Eyes as though he hadn’t just bolted out of the lab. Remus watched for a few minutes before saying casually, “I thought Harry was eating again.”

“He is,” Severus replied curtly. Remus frowned.

“Why did you-” Severus stopped slicing to glare at him. His black eyes were cold.

“He didn’t eat dinner,” he snapped. Lupin nodded.

“I’m sure he was just too upset after what happened-” Severus dropped the knife onto the table with a loud clatter.

“He didn’t eat because I forgot to feed him!” he said angrily, his voice filled with self-reproach. “I am no better than those damn Muggles!” he growled, swiping the knife up again. He resumed his slicing, his movements jerky with anger. Remus felt his mouth opening in surprise.

He watched Severus for a minute, trying to figure out what had happened between father and son to make Severus so upset…and he was obviously not angry with Harry. “Did you withhold food as a punishment?” he asked carefully, even though he knew the answer. Severus threw done the knife again, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“Are you insinuating that I abused my son?” he demanded furiously. Remus shook his head calmly.

“No, I’m demonstrating the very glaring differences between you and the Dursleys,” he soothed. Severus clenched his jaw. He turned back to the Fish Eyes. Remus watched him again for several minutes.

“What happened?” he finally asked. Severus didn’t look up from his slicing.

“We argued,” he answered gruffly. Remus chuckled.

“Glad to hear it,” he remarked seriously. Severus stopped slicing. He narrowed his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” he inquired. Remus shook his head.

“If Harry is back to arguing with you again, it seems he must be feeling a bit more secure.” Severus stared at him. He opened his mouth once before snapping it closed again. He pursed his lips before going back to his Eyes.

“Severus,” Remus said quietly, “whatever Harry said to you, it was likely said only in anger…and he’s had a lot of anger to get out.” Severus didn’t answer though he did pause briefly in his rhythm. Remus smiled, knowing he was close to the crux of whatever had happened in the past few hours. “What did he say?” he asked, deciding not to skirt the issue. Severus glared at him again, having finished with the knife.

“He reminded me of the night I left,” he snapped and then turned away stiffly as though he hadn’t meant to reveal as much. Remus, stunned himself, didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” was the only thing he could think to say after several silent minutes had passed. When Severus ignored him, he asked, “Did you talk afterward?” he asked quietly. Severus busied himself in his ingredients cupboard.

“Yes,” was the slightly muffled reply. Remus’ lips twitched.

“And?” he prodded. Severus rearranged a couple of vials before turning around. His face was passive.

“We finished our conversation,” he said simply. Remus shook his head, half in amusement, half in exasperation at the other man’s stunted emotional growth.

“I assume Harry was pretty upset with himself,” he surmised. Severus nodded as he began stirring one of his potions with meticulous motions.

“He was,” he said, his voice full of regret. Remus frowned in thought.

“It’s all right for Harry to feel remorse for hurting you, Severus,” he said gently. Severus glanced up quickly, his eyes hard.

“I do not need you to tell me what is all right for Harry to feel,” he informed him icily.

“Of course not,” Remus returned lightly. Severus narrowed his eyes.

“Do not patronize me,” he snarled.

“Would you feel better if you could punch someone as well?” Remus asked curiously. Severus stared at him, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yes,” he confirmed after a minute and Remus laughed in spite of himself.

“Perhaps Argus would agree to be your target,” he suggested around his chuckle. Severus raised his eyebrow.

“I do not believe I would ask his permission,” he said smoothly as he returned to his careful stirring.

“That would probably be best,” Remus agreed. Severus’ mouth quirked almost imperceptively. Remus smiled, settling himself comfortably on one of the Potions’ Master’s stools. Severus didn't comment as he continued to tend to his potion.

1996

Before the little cupboard door closed, his father sneered at him, “This is where we put freaks.” Harry stared at the door as the red and gold common room began shrinking, darkening until he could barely breathe. He flung himself at the portrait hole, screaming at the Fat Lady to let him out. She smiled down at him, her face cold, “Did you really think your father would want you, Harry?” She laughed shrilly as the room continued to shrink; the cupboard walls were pressing in on him. “Let me out!” he cried, as the spiders overhead leered at him.

“Let me out!” he shouted again, and then he gasped wildly as he found himself sitting in his bed, his father’s hands on his shoulders.

“Harry,” Severus was saying in a calming voice, “it’s all right.” Harry stared at him as he attempted to reorient himself. “Breathe deeply,” he directed and Harry drew in a couple of breaths, shivering as he did. Severus squeezed his shoulders, but didn’t withdraw. “You had another nightmare?”

Harry didn’t answer; the horrible vision of his father throwing him into his old cupboard had been too much.

“Was it Halloween again?” Severus pressed. Harry shook his head, looking away though it made little difference as his father’s face was just a blur anyway. “Harry?”

“It was a just a dream,” Harry told him as he turned back. There was a pause as Severus removed one of his hands from his shoulder and then Harry felt his glasses tucked into his palm.

“You were shouting,” he said quietly and Harry felt a surge of guilt.

“Sorry,” he offered quickly, “I didn’t mean to wake you,” as he slipped his glasses on; his father’s face came into focus. He was frowning.

“What were you dreaming about?” Severus asked, ignoring Harry’s apology, but Harry just shook his head again.

“I’m fine,” he said with a little shrug. Severus brought his other hand up to Harry’s shoulder again. He narrowed his eyes a little.

“Do you remember me telling you that it was a mistake to keep your feelings to yourself?” he asked seriously. Harry closed his eyes briefly, stilling the black storm that had gathered in his mind.

“My cupboard,” he said gruffly, keeping his eyes firmly closed. His father’s fingers gripped against his shoulders and Harry stayed very still, not wanting to lose the contact; he felt so cold.

“Your cupboard.” It was an dull echo of pain and Harry nodded, wishing he could have just dreamed of Voldemort again.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated hoarsely, not able to stop himself. “If I hadn’t said those awful things to you, I wouldn’t have been so worried that you wouldn’t want me and now I’m having new nightmares…” Harry’s ramble trailed off as the grip on his shoulders tightened a bit before lessening again—but his father’s hands stayed. Harry opened his eyes. Severus' dark eyes were lighter now and he was almost smiling.

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“I believe this is one disagreeable habit you cannot claim to have gotten from me,” Severus smirked. Harry furrowed his brow, looking thoroughly confused. “This need you have to continually apologize,” he explained. Harry frowned. Severus shook his head.

“You’ve apologized enough, Harry,” he began, “Yes, you said something hurtful and although you did not mean to, you should not have said it,” he continued, letting his voice hold a slight rebuke and Harry immediately lowered his eyes, though Severus felt him relax slightly under his hands.

Severus continued, changing his tone so that it was a bit gentler, “I accept your apology.” Harry looked up and his emerald eyes had lost some of their worry and Severus almost sighed in relief. If he’d known Harry would have found such release at his words, he would have offered them earlier. Damn Lupin for being right though; Harry obviously did need to be held accountable for what he’d said, no matter that Harry had needed to say it.

Squeezing his son’s shoulders again, Severus said firmly, “I would like to discuss your dream.” Harry nodded, his eyes losing even more of their edge and Severus allowed himself to smile; Harry smiled in return though the expression was much too hesitant for Severus’ comfort. He let his hands fall back to his thighs, leaning forward a bit. “You dreamed you were back at the Dursleys?” he prodded. Harry bit his lip.

“…my uncle was tossing me in my cupboard, yeah,” he nodded.

His anger immediately ignited, Severus demanded, “Tossing you in?”

Harry shrugged, not looking particularly bothered. “He locked me in there when I did accidental magic sometimes,” he explained. Severus had known that already but to hear his son speak of it so casually…

Severus’ frowned though as Harry cheeks were tingeing pink and he was rolling the edge of his blanket into a neat spiral. “Harry,” he pressed gently, putting his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, and Harry looked up again, inhaling in a deep breath.

“…before the door closed…” he slid his eyes away, “…it was you…and then I was locked in the tower and I couldn’t get out, but it was the cupboard again and I was just laying there, screaming for the Fat Lady to let me out, but she wouldn’t because you didn’t want me and the spiders were so close, I could feel them breathing on me!” he struggled to catch his breath and not knowing what else to do, Severus pulled his son to him.

Without even pausing, Harry leaned in and pressed his cheek against Severus’ shoulder, as though he’d been anxiously waiting for Severus to embrace him, and Severus felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t offered his son any comfort earlier. Harry had been denied physical reassurances almost his entire life and no matter how much he would insist that he was too old to be comforted this way, it was painfully obvious that his son craved such contact and Severus vowed silently that he would not forget it again.

He put one arm tightly around Harry, resting his other hand on the side of his son’s head. “Harry, you can stay here as long as you wish,” he promised, understanding from the dream that his son was more anxious than he’d let on about returning to his dorm. He felt Harry draw in another breath.

“I can?” he asked, sounding surprised. Severus nodded, pressing the tips of his fingers into Harry’s hair.

“Yes,” Severus assured his son and Harry nodded against his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he murmured and Severus shook his head.

“You do not need to thank me, Harry. This is your home.” Harry nodded again, but otherwise didn’t respond.

After a few more minutes, Harry pulled away, looking embarrassed. Severus patted his leg reassuringly; Harry smiled before looking down again, his lip worrying between his teeth. Severus waited patiently for his son to say whatever was on his mind.

“Why did you say you were sorry…when you came into my room last night?” he finally asked and Severus closed his eyes for a moment, debating quickly if there was anything to be gained from a discussion of his childhood.

“I thought I had frightened you,” he admitted finally and then he tensed when Harry looked away. “Harry,” he pressed, “…did I frighten you?”

“I…just, well, you were awfully mad…” Harry shrugged, still not meeting Severus’ eye.

Knowing this was too important for Harry to be focused on anything else, Severus maneuvered his head so that he was gazing into his son’s green eyes.

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

Harry felt a surge of nervousness course through him as his father lowered his head so that Harry was staring into black eyes; they were glinting with intensity.

“Harry, I promise that I will never harm you.” Harry blinked a few times, startled by the unexpected statement. “Do you understand that?” Severus asked, his voice brimming with some kind of pain. Harry nodded, though he couldn’t really understand why it should be so important, but he did believe the words. Severus continued to hold his gaze, and Harry watched as the dark eyes grew stormy and then stilled again.

“I spent much of my childhood, fearing Tobias,” Severus continued and Harry’s gut twisted. He instinctively reached out a hand to place it comfortingly on his father’s arm.

“He hurt you?” he whispered, feeling disgusted at the thought that a father would hurt his own child. Severus pursed his lips.

“He was not a nice man,” was all he said and Harry nodded, understanding that he wouldn’t want, or perhaps even be able, to go into details about what had happened to him as a child and Harry couldn’t help but feel anger at Tobias Snape.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Harry assured him and his father’s face relaxed. He studied Harry for a moment longer.

“I am grateful for your faith in me,” he finally said, his voice very serious and Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, though the words made him flush even as he smiled a little. Severus' eyes warmed as he sat up again. “You should go back to sleep,” he suggested and Harry shifted a little, feeling uncertain.

“I’m not really tired…I’m sort of hungry though,” he said quickly. For some reason, that made his father frown. Harry fidgeted.

“I forgot about dinner last night,” Severus said quietly. “I apologize, Harry,” and Harry frowned at the faint disgust he could detect in his voice.

“That’s all right. I didn’t notice,” he shrugged, feeling rather foolish for not noticing something like that. Severus slanted him a look.

“How often did those Muggles punish you by withholding meals?” he asked sharply and Harry drew back a little, surprised by the question. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this new policy of openness his father was currently so insistent upon, but he supposed it was better than being so nervous he couldn’t even eat. So, he shrugged.

“I don’t know that it was always really a punishment,” he disagreed. “They didn’t really like to waste food on me,” he said with a wry smile, thinking of how much food had been pumped into Dudley.

“Waste food on you!” Severus all but sputtered, outraged. Harry frowned suddenly.

“I didn’t think you were trying to starve me or anything last night,” he rushed out, his throat constricting. How much pain had he caused his father last night? Severus shook his head, clearly still annoyed by the Dursley’s treatment and then he stood up abruptly from the bed.

“Come,” he commanded ominously. “We will eat.”

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

After his father was satisfied that Harry was sufficiently filled with food, they spent the rest of the morning working, first on the Transfiguration lesson Harry missed—more magical properties of blood, and then they went over the details of the Potion they’d be brewing in class, as Severus stressed that this sort of detailed analysis was the way Harry should have been studying for the past five years. And then they’d devoted the next few hours to going over various mental exercises to assist in the emotional control Severus was also insistent upon.

“Did you practice the exercise we originally worked on?” he had asked, his voice overly accusatory in Harry’s opinion and when Harry had nodded, his father had said sternly, “I want you to practice it every morning. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he’d replied only to watch as Severus pursed his lips and Harry realized the morning’s conversation had been peppered with sirs, but Harry restrained himself from offering an apology, telling himself that he just needed to stop being such a baby. After all, his father had said he’d forgiven him…

He kept that thought firmly lodged in his mind until it was time to leave for lunch, though it didn’t keep him from feeling so stiff, but Severus said nothing about it and Harry felt even guiltier with his father’s attempts to keep him from feeling worse.

“I will walk you to class after lunch,” Severus told him as he adjusted his teaching robes before they entered the Great Hall.

“I can just walk down with Ron and Hermione,” Harry objected quickly but Severus shook his head.

“Not until I have a chance to speak with Dumbledore,” he said, his tone holding enough of a warning that Harry didn’t argue, though he was pretty sure he could have somehow managed the trek to the dungeons without getting into a fistfight.

He must have looked annoyed though, because his father sighed. “It is not because I do not trust you to keep out of trouble, Harry,” he assured him. “Albus is attempting to find a way to keep you safer.” When Harry didn’t answer, Severus turned and started walking into the Hall; Harry caught up quickly so he wouldn’t have to trail behind and give the entire school something else to gossip about. They gathered just as much attention as they had the first time anyway, though Harry didn’t remember feeling so anxious on Tuesday.

Severus squeezed his shoulder once they reached the end of the Gryffindor table, before going up to the Head Table and Harry hurriedly sat next to Ginny. She took his hand and though it was rather difficult to eat left-handed, he didn’t let her go.

“Are you all right?” she asked immediately. He nodded, before turning to Ron and Neville.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.” Ron shrugged.

“Well, we couldn’t just let those other three join in, could we?” he smirked. Neville nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, Harry, the rest of them were about to attack you,” he added seriously. Harry shook his head.

“Well, I am sorry anyway…about the detentions too.” The other boys made faces at that; Harry frowned in sudden thought. “McGonagall didn’t send owls home about it, did she?” he asked worriedly, nervous especially about Mrs. Weasley and her howlers. But Ron and Neville nodded, though Neville was smiling.

“Gran sent me a reply back this morning. She was quite proud that I defended you,” he said with a bit of a pompous grin. Harry bit back a smile as Ron was looking decidedly discontented.

Before he could ask him what had happened, Ginny put in, “Mum didn’t even bother with a Howler,” she said, sounding annoyed. Harry frowned again.

“No?”

“She Flooed here,” Ron said miserably. Harry’s mouth fell open.

“She did?” he asked incredulously.

Ron nodded but it was Ginny who jumped back in, “She didn’t even care that he was trying to help you,” with a scowl.

“Yeah, mate,” Ron added, cringing at the memory, “she had a fit. I haven’t seen her so mad since Fred and George gave your cousin that toffee before the Quidditch Cup.” Harry cringed right along with his friend; he remembered that very well. Ron nodded at Harry’s expression. “Lucky for you, she knows about Snape now. She said she would have brought you into Dumbledore’s office as well if she didn’t already know how angry Snape—your dad—would be.”

Harry’s eyes went to his father at Ron’s words; he was nodding at something Remus was saying to him. Harry turned back to Ron, who by now was leaning forward. “So? What happened?” he asked, lowering his voice as though expecting something terrible. Harry flushed a bit, remembering all that had happened with his father last night.

“We talked about it,” he shrugged. Ron raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Talked?” he echoed. He shook his head. “Mum went on and one for about a hour, lecturing that I should have just kept walking,” his voice rose an octave as he imitated Mrs. Weasley’s high pitched shrieking, “how irresponsible it was to let them bother us…why didn’t you just walk away, Ron…get a teacher Ron,” he mimicked. He shook his head again. “Get a teacher…” he scoffed. Hermione made a little noise next to him.

“She’s right, of course,” she said, her face pinched in disapproval. “The three of you acted incredibly foolishly,” she agreed, with a little shake of her head. Ron made a face, while Neville coloured a bit. Hermione continued, her eyes boring into Harry’s, “You could have been seriously hurt, Harry. You can’t keep letting everything bother you so much.” Harry didn’t respond, but she went right on anyway, “One of these days, Harry, you’re going to get yourself into a situation that you can’t get out of so easily!”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry finally said sarcastically, his irritation overflowing. “I really needed another lecture as my dad didn’t cover all of that last night,” he snapped.

Hermione glared at him for a minute before saying haughtily, “Well, I hope your dad finally got through to you, because someone certainly needs to.” Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend, but didn’t answer since Ginny was glaring at Hermione as well. He really didn’t want to start an argument.

Neville, looking extremely uncomfortable, broke the silence, “So, did you get detention as well?” Harry nodded, figuring it was close enough to the truth.

“Not with Filch, though,” he added and Hermione nodded.

“Well, I should hope not, after the way he was shaking you,” she said with a nervous little frown. Harry shuddered a bit. He only vaguely remembered Filch at all, but what he could recall was indeed unpleasant.

“You have to have detention with your dad?” Neville asked, looking very sorry for Harry. Harry shook his head.

“It’s not really detention, I guess…I’m not allowed to have anyone down to our quarters,” he said, feeling mildly embarrassed. Ron and Neville shrugged though, as if it were an everyday occurrence for Harry to announce he’d been in trouble with his father; Hermione was nodding approvingly. Harry glowered at her.

“Well, it’s not as if you don’t deserve it, Harry,” she pointed out and as Harry couldn’t really argue with that, he said nothing.

And before Ginny could snap at Hermione, he changed the subject, speaking carefully as Neville was there, “Dumbledore told us you asked Flitwick to do some research for you.” Hermione paled a little.

“I asked him to keep that private,” she said indignantly.

“Well, then it would probably be best if you kept it to yourself,” Harry advised, stressing the last word. Hermione pursed her lips, but she nodded. Then she turned back to her lunch and Harry, shaking his head, starting eating as well.

They ate mostly in silence, as Hermione was scowling down at her plate and Ron kept looking nervously between his own plate and Hermione. Neville tried valiantly to keep the conversation going, but he finally gave up and left when his Ravenclaw girlfriend came over.

And on cue, Hermione whispered, “I had to go to Flitwick, Harry, as I’ve run out of ideas.” Harry shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could have continued to avoid this subject as he'd been doing for the past week.

“I already know everything,” he told her, keeping his voice soft. She looked startled but then she leaned forward eagerly.

“And?” she demanded, but Harry shook his head.

“I can’t tell you anything…I’m sorry,” he added lamely.

“What do you mean, you can’t tell us?” she asked, sounding befuddled by the very idea that Harry would keep something from his friends and indeed it was a strange concept.

“Look, I promised my dad that I wouldn’t tell you. It’s too dangerous,” he tried to explain

Hermione frowned. “But, Harry, we can help you,” she told him, nodding fervently.

“You can’t though, Hermione. Not with this,” he said firmly, but Hermione continued to stare at him.

“But, Harry,” she began again.

“Hermione,” Ron interrupted, “do you want Snape to ground him for another two weeks? Merlin’s pants!” He shook his head at Harry in exasperation but Harry ignored him, his eyes straying up to the Head Table again, as he realized how parental his punishment actually was. His father was watching him and Harry smiled a little; his father inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Harry turned back to his friends as Hermione was just getting up from the table, looking vexed. Ron scrambled up after her and Harry gave his friend a sympathetic look as Ron threw up his hands in resignation and followed after his stomping girlfriend.

Harry and Ginny watched the pair go. And then Ginny asked, “How was it last night?”

Harry glanced swiftly up at his father. He was still watching them and Harry couldn’t figure out if he was annoyed or concerned. Harry's throat felt tight as he turned back to Ginny. “Did you have a row?” she asked, her voice tense. Harry nodded. Ginny frowned.

“What happened? Did he say something?” she asked and Harry smiled a little at the anger that crept into her voice.

“No,” Harry assured her. She looked confused. Harry sighed. “I said some awful things though,” he admitted, his voice rough, “…really awful…” And though Ginny didn’t press for details, he went on anyway, “…he was telling me how I need to learn to control my temper better,” he took a deep breath as Ginny nodded, “and I told him he should have taken his own advice before he left my mum and me…” His face was burning as he stared at his half-full glass of pumpkin juice. Ginny was silent for what seemed like a long time and Harry wished he hadn’t told her, but finally her small hand wrapped itself around his.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed and Harry looked up sharply. She sounded so sad. She obviously hadn’t understood that Harry wasn’t the one who needed sympathy, so her next words surprised him. “Did you apologize?” Harry nodded.

“He wasn’t even mad…not really. He just said I had a right to feel that way, but Ginny,” he said, waving his arms a little, “I didn’t even mean it. It just sort of tumbled out...I really didn’t mean it,” he repeated, sounding ridiculously miserable. Ginny put her arm around him. “I can’t stand that he thinks I haven’t forgiven him, Gin…”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Did you explain it to him?”

“I tried, but he was so hurt…I don’t think he really wanted to talk about it,” he said quietly. Ginny brought her head back up so that he was gazing into her brown eyes.

“Harry, all families argue and all of us say things sometimes that we don’t mean. It’s just part of being a family,” she told him gently. Harry nodded; it made sense he supposed, but as he’d never had a family, it was a difficult concept. Why would anyone want to be with people who had hurt them? Even family…

Ginny squeezed his hand again and then she leaned away from Harry. “Good afternoon, Professor,” she greeted to a spot off to Harry’s left. Harry shifted; his father came to a stop beside the table.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Weasley” he returned evenly and Harry wondered for the second time why his father couldn’t call her Ginny. “Class is about to begin,” Severus said, glancing pointedly around the Great Hall; it was mostly empty. Ginny nodded quickly as she gathered her bag together.

“See you later, Harry…Professor,” she said quickly, before giving Harry a quick peck. Harry coloured slightly as he watched her go.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Severus asked, breaking into his thoughts. He nodded as he stood up, avoiding his father’s dark gaze. Severus didn’t say anything more as they walked out of the Hall together.

Harry knew his father was walking at an uncharacteristically slow pace as he had no trouble keeping up with him. But even with that and the relatively short distance to the Potions classroom, they arrived much too quickly for Harry’s comfort. When they reached the door, Severus stopped and turned to face him. Harry tilted his head a bit so that he was looking at his father.

“Is your mind calm?” he asked, his voice soft. Harry frowned a little

“I’m a bit nervous,” he admitted.  Severus nodded.

“Bring your thoughts to something that will ease your mind,” he directed, his voice soothing in its evenness. Harry closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to Ginny.

“Are you ready?” his father’s deep voice rumbled against his grayed storm and Harry nodded as he opened his eyes. Severus patted his shoulder lightly before gesturing Harry to enter the classroom. Harry pushed open the door and just like they had two days ago, every head snapped around, even Malfoy’s this time.

The nervous tingle in his gut turned to a full blown blaze. Harry thought of his father finally saying he loved him and his storm calmed again. Taking a discreet breath, he walked down the incredibly long aisle to his table and slid in silently. His father continued past, spinning in his customary grand manner as soon as he had reached his desk.

“If you can manage to discontinue your gawking,” his father drawled, “perhaps we could begin class.” Harry didn’t look around, but apparently they couldn’t manage because his father snapped, “Eyes front now.” Harry flushed as that meant his classmates were probably staring at him. But Severus narrowed his eyes in the next second and ordered, “Turn to page 343,” beginning the lecture.

The lecture was much longer than usual, concluding only with an abrupt command to begin brewing the Re-Growth Elixir, an extremely complicated Potion as it used more than one Charm at various points during the brewing.

“Are you planning on staring off into space all day, Potter?” Harry turned to Malfoy, startled. He was about to apologize when the obnoxious Slytherin sneered, “You don’t want daddy to give you a zero, now do you?” Harry’s jaw tensed, but then his eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. Malfoy had spoken just an octave higher than he usually did, his head turned slightly so Parvati and her Slytherin partner behind them would be certain to hear. Harry sighed at the muffled snicker.

Ignoring Malfoy’s childishness, Harry began sorting the glittering Hikara crystals into two neat piles. He didn’t glance up until he heard two quickly hissed Muffliato Spells. “What are you doing?” Harry whispered. Malfoy pursed his lips and stared straight at the board.

“What the hell were you thinking, Potter?” he demanded, his lips barely moving, as he began dicing the hearts of several frogs without even glancing down. Harry stared at him. “Hitting Pinth?” Malfoy stressed, moving his eyes to his Frog Hearts.

“Why do you care?” Harry asked, with more curiosity than he’d intended.

“Are you daft?” Malfoy sneered. “Do you think I actually want my father to go to Azkaban?” Harry kept his eyes carefully down, not stopping in his motions…green crystals, clear crystals… “So just keep yourself alive until you've done your job,” Malfoy said harshly as he poured the Hearts into the cauldron with muffled plops.

“I’ll do my best,” Harry agreed sarcastically. “And then when I’m all through with Voldemort, I’ll just go ask Pinth for another round, yeah…let him bloody me a bit more?”

“I don’t care who bloodies you after that…I’ll do it myself if you’d prefer,” Malfoy returned callously.

“So, where were you yesterday then if you’re so eager to get your hands on me?” Harry hissed, keeping his head down.

“What are you on about, Potter?” Malfoy shot back.

“You’re not supposed be off on your own and if Zabini was getting beat up by Ron and Neville,” he smirked as Malfoy made a soft scoffing noise, “then where were you?”

“What are you, already in training for the Auror program?” the Slytherin asked. “I was with Pansy—use your imagination,” he suggested and Harry felt heat creeping up his cheeks. He chanced a glance at Malfoy, who was just sliding his eyes away; he was smirking. “Potter…a virgin,” he chortled softly and Harry, the heat spreading further, went back to his crystals.

He heard Malfoy ending his Spell and Harry braced himself for more insults. But Malfoy only snapped at him to hurry up and put the crystals in. Harry glared once at the other boy before he began to drop in the crystals, alternating between green and clear.

They worked in near silence for the rest of the class, with Malfoy snapping out this and that, though to Harry’s ear, the demands seemed a bit forced and when Harry wasn’t supposed to be looking, Malfoy was usually staring a bit too pointedly at his ingredients and then he’d turn abruptly and snap something before going back to staring. Harry was beginning to think Draco Malfoy was a bigger mess than he was…

Harry felt himself slumping with relief as soon as his father pronounced their Potion ‘Adequate’, before dismissing the class. Once Malfoy had given him a final glare, he swaggered to join Zabini and Parkinson, and Harry almost smiled. He swung his bag over his shoulder.

Ron and Hermione came over to his desk. “Are you ready, Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry glanced up at his father; he wasn’t really sure if he was allowed to go with them, as his dad had said he could only see his friends during meals and classes. And even though he really wanted to talk to them again, he supposed he could wait until dinner.

“You guys go ahead,” he encouraged quietly, deciding he’d save his explanation for later. Hermione frowned at him but Ron nodded immediately and with a little tug at Hermione’s elbow, they left the Potions classroom. Harry leaned against his table and waited for his father to finish arranging the day’s Potions vials.

After only a short minute, Severus looked up and his face relaxed as he found them alone. Harry smiled a little, glad his father still felt comfortable enough around him to let his guard down a bit. With that thought easing his mind, Harry went ahead and asked his question, though he was shifting nervously, “I wasn’t sure if—well, if I was allowed to go with Ron and Hermione to study…” His father looked confused for a moment and Harry wondered if he’d forgotten about their talk last night, but then Severus' eyes narrowed in thought.

“I had not considered it,” he admitted. “I will give the matter some thought,” he promised, and Harry felt a strange mixture of relief and resentment at his father’s apparent musings on his punishment, but he wasn’t able to spare any thought to it, as his father was continuing, “However, we have an appointment with the Headmaster before dinner.” Harry frowned, remembering that Dumbledore had said something about wanting to talk to his father last night.

“He wants to see me as well?” he asked. Black eyes glinted in quick amusement, surprising Harry.

“What Albus wants is irrelevant in this,” Severus said with a little smirk. Harry had no idea what his father meant, and seeing his confusion, he elaborated, “He wants to discuss your mother’s Charm and as this concerns you, I want you there.” Something about the way his father said that, made Harry glow. Severus was watching him thoughtfully.

“You did very well with Draco,” he offered quietly after a moment and Harry grinned in pleased embarrassment. His father’s eyes warmed a bit before he asked, “Shall we go?” Harry nodded and fell in step beside his father. They walked together to Dumbledore’s office, receiving many whispered looks on the way and Harry had to wonder if his father was trying to make sure as many students as possible saw them together, as it seemed they were taking the longest route possible to the Headmaster’s office.

“Buttered Toffeecorn,” Severus gave the password to the Gargoyle and they spun slowly together to the door. The door opened before Severus could even knock and Dumbledore was smiling from the other side, showing no surprise at seeing Harry.

“Good afternoon, Severus…Harry, would you like a licorice twist?” Harry shook his head, murmuring a polite no thank you and then he sat, following his father’s lead.

“Did you find it?” Severus asked, not even bothering to return the Headmaster’s greeting. Dumbledore nodded, his smile even brighter. “And the locket?” Severus inquired, without taking a breath and Harry watched as Dumbledore shook his head, the blue eyes dulling a bit; his father frowned. Harry looked between the two, both of them looking dejected, but before he could ask what they were talking about, Dumbledore stood up and handed an open book to Severus.

“I think this is the best example we’ll find,” the Headmaster said quietly, though his voice had regained some of its eagerness. Severus was silent while his eyes scanned the page.

He glanced at Harry, before shaking his head and when he spoke, his voice was lost in self-reproach, “I should have realized it earlier,” he said with a fair bit of disgust. Harry frowned.

“What’s going on?” he finally asked. His father handed the book to Dumbledore before leaning back in his chair to study Harry.

“I thought that my ability to reach out to you on Halloween,” Harry did his best not to flinch; his father reached out and squeezed his shoulder before continuing, “was due to extreme circumstances, but it is possible that we could enhance whatever connection we have, especially if your mother’s Charm did bond us beyond a simple mental connection.”

“What do you mean, ‘enhance’ it?” Harry asked, leaning forward a bit. His father pursed his lips, studying Harry intently.

“We might be able to establish a permanent mental connection,” he finally answered, his tone reserved. Harry shook his head in confusion.

“Why?” he had to know. What would be the point? His father smiled a little.

“It would be quite useful if you were able to contact me if you were in trouble, would it not?” he asked. “It might even have prevented your scuffle with Pinth,” he added casually, making Harry’s face warm with embarrassment even as he tried to understand what his father was trying to explain.

Avoiding Dumbledore’s gaze, still embarrassed, Harry asked, “How would it work?” And unfortunately, it was the Headmaster who answered, so Harry had to turn to look up at him.

“You would feel your father’s presence in your mind, as would he. If you ever needed him, after some practice, you would be able to direct your thoughts to him and he would be able to ‘hear’ you, through your connection.”

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about that. Wishing Dumbledore wasn’t there, he asked quickly, “Does that mean I’d be able to see everything you’re doing?” …and you’d be seeing everything I do, he wanted to add, but he couldn’t quite manage, not with the Headmaster smiling at him.

“No,” Severus answered, pulling Harry’s gaze from Dumbledore. “It will be as though I’ve left a piece of my shields in your mind; it will be the same for me,” he explained and though Harry really didn’t understand what that meant, he trusted his father.

“All right,” he nodded. “Do you know how to do it?” he asked and his father glanced once at Dumbledore before nodding.

“You and I will attempt it. Professor Dumbledore can assist us if we fail.” His father didn’t sound particularly thrilled with the idea of Dumbledore helping or perhaps he was only bothered by the idea of failure. Severus stood abruptly and Harry did as well. “I will enter your thoughts, as I’ve done before.”

Harry nodded his agreement, looking up into the familiar black.  Severus smiled a little and reached a hand out, settling it gently on Harry’s cheek. And then he felt the soft heat of his father’s flames against his conscious, reaching out toward his storm.

You are nervous, the flames surmised and they warmed in response to the chills coursing through the storm. You are still thinking about last night? the flames wanted to know, flickering slightly with confusion

The storm chilled further with regret. The flames gathered close.

Would you like to see my most contented memory? they asked suddenly, and the storm rippled with uncertain acceptance.

Look, the flames commanded. Through the wall of fire, vague shapes began to form—Harry leaning over his father’s chest, while Severus rested a hand on Harry’s head; he was smiling. The storm rumbled in surprise.

But that’s me, it thundered its objection. The flames danced with gentle laughter.

It is, they agreed. The flames warmed again. Why did you bring me home? they asked.

The storm swirled with uncertainty. I couldn’t let you go.

Why? the brightening flames repeated, glowing red as they waited.

The storm lightened, though the chill remained. I love you, they answered. The flames radiated heat throughout the storm.

And do you think you could have loved me so much if you had not forgiven me—for everything? The flames burned to blue.

The storm stilled as it slowly lightened to gray, the chill completely dispelling with the understanding emanating through the blue-white flames.

And then the storm watched as a tendril of fire broke off from its fellows. I will stay here with you, it promised and the storm softened with the reassurance.

The storm pushed outward, a wisp of cloud snaking out toward the flames. You need me too, it breezed quietly and the flames brightened, accepting the gift, even as they began to withdraw from Harry’s mind.

But the small, warm glow remained as Harry came back to Dumbledore’s office, still looking into his father's dark eyes. And not paying any attention to Dumbledore, knowing that Severus would return the gesture even with him there, Harry wrapped his arms around his father. Without any hesitation, Severus responded and Harry felt the dormant glow intensify in the back of his mind as he felt his father’s acceptance.

“Thanks Dad,” he said softly, squeezing his father briefly before letting him go again, smiling as he watched the black eyes glinting with the word.

He still felt the niggling of remorse for the words he'd said last night and even the pain of so many years was still there. But now that Harry knew his father had understood--understood that he hadn't meant the awful words and more importantly, that his father understood that he was forgiven, most of all, Harry just felt happy.

1977

Severus straightened his dress robes, as he gazed at his own reflected image in Lily's mirror. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, not even Lily, but he was anxious. There was no reason for it, of course. He and Lily had been living together for months now, ever since their final day at Hogwarts. They'd spent most of their nights in an enchanted tent while they built this house; Severus had never felt as content as he had this summer.

He'd proposed only last night.

Severus allowed his lips to lift in a small smile as he remembered Lily's face as he'd asked her to be his wife. She hadn't even glanced at the glittering diamond ring between his thumb and forefinger as she threw her arms around his neck with so much force, he'd actually stumbled backward.

"Yes!" she'd cried and before Severus could draw breath, her lips were on his; they didn't resurface again for hours. And when they finally did, and Lily had allowed Severus to place the ring on her finger, she had fire-called Dumbledore straightaway to make arrangements for him to perform the ceremony. "As soon as possible, Albus," she'd directed to Albus' smiling face, and without hesitation, the Headmaster had agreed.

Albus was waiting in the parlor now, and with one deep breath to steady himself, Severus turned from the mirror and moved slowly toward the stairs. Albus was standing near the Floo, rocking on his heels, looking particularly pleased. Severus nodded in simple greeting as he descended the staircase

"How are you feeling, my boy?" Albus asked gently, his blue eyes glinting with pleasure.

"I am well," Severus lied smoothly, having absolutely no inclination to share his anxiety with Albus.

"It is perfectly normal to be nervous on your wedding day, Severus," Albus told him sagely. Severus pursed his lips in irritation at the old man's unnecessary soothing. He didn't answer, turning slightly so that he was facing toward the wide staircase.

Severus' breath caught in his throat as Lily appeared at the top. She had foregone wizarding tradition, wearing a Muggle wedding gown instead, though how she'd gotten it, Severus had no idea. He kept his eyes on Lily's delicate features as she came into the room; she had never looked so beautiful.

She walked sedately toward him, looking perfectly calm and Severus felt his nerves edging upward as he watched her. In the next moment though, her fingers caught in his as she stopped only centimeters from him. He could smell the essence of flowers against his throat.

"You look perfect, Sev," Lily told him on a whisper, smiling radiantly at him. Severus brought a hand up to delicately brush a strand of hair that had loosed itself from her twisted locks.

"You are beautiful, Lily," he told her simply. Her cheeks warmed with his gentle touch, and he almost allowed himself to forget that they were not alone.

"If you would join both your hands," Albus suggested gently. Severus immediately took Lily's other small hand in his own. She continued to smile up at him. He gazed down at her and he couldn't stop the small smile; her face lit up. Severus tugged gently so that their paired hands were pressed together.

Albus brought the tip of his wand close to their intertwined fingers, circling it several times around their wrists while he incanted a long complimented string of Latin. Severus' eyes never left Lily, his world was emerald as a soft blue glow wrapped itself around their wrists and down their arms, binding them together as husband and wife. The glow pulsed for several long minutes and then it dissolved, becoming part of them. As soon as the blue disappeared, Lily reached up for him.

Her hands against his neck, pulled his head to hers and she kissed him. Severus felt her love radiated through their new bond, strong and bright and consuming. Even as their lips parted, Lily kept her hands on his neck; she rested her head against his chest.

"I love you," she whispered against his robes and Severus glowed.

"And I you, Lily," he answered, struggling to retain control of his emotions.

Lily finally pulled away, her face so full of joy, Severus felt himself relaxing with it and he was grateful that Albus had withdrawn for the moment. Lily stood on her toes once more and kissed him gently. "You're my husband," she announced against his cheek and Severus' lips twitched with the statement.

"I am," he agreed. She pulled back again, her head tilted up toward him as she smirked.

"Well, it is pretty incredible, Sev," she told him. "We're married!" Her voice was full of amazement." And Severus, that same wonder echoing in his own mind, pulled Lily back toward him.

"Thank you, Lily," he whispered against her hair; she moved even closer to him. They stood there for a long time, just enjoying being together, finally, as husband and wife.

--

1996

Harry was still smiling as he turned back to Albus, who was waiting for a confirmation that the enhancement of their mental connection had been successful. Severus could sense his son's happiness; the emotion almost overwhelmed him. He was, however, grateful for the sudden mood shift from Harry's earlier worry and unease.

"It worked?" the Headmaster inquired with a smile as he already seemed to have his answer with Harry's enthusiastic grin, though of course Albus had no idea of the real reason for Harry's happiness.

"It did," Severus confirmed.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore enthused, looking between Harry and Severus. Harry's face brightened further and Severus almost cringed with the waves of happiness coming from him. He would need to help Harry master control of this connection quickly, or Harry's emotions would likely bury him. For now though, Severus closed his own mind as much as he could, though he left the warmth available to Harry; its sudden withdrawal would have been painful for both of them.

"Severus." Albus was gesturing for them to retake their seats. Severus complied. Harry sat as well, taking the seat again next to Severus. "I believe we can interpret this to mean that Lily's Charm did indeed create a bond between you. This...and your experiences beyond the veil."

Severus felt some of Harry's excitement at this pronouncement and Severus shook his head, wanting to make sure he didn't get carried away. "We will need more proof Albus. Real proof before we can do anything," he told the Headmaster. It was Albus' turn to frown.

"Severus," he implored but Severus narrowed his eyes.

"No, Albus," he refused firmly. "I will not risk Harry on an inference. We will be certain, or we will not do it." Albus gazed at him, his blue eyes seeming to calculate the possibilities, but it did not concern Severus the way it used to. If the Charm could be activated, both he and Harry would be needed and Albus knew it. Without Severus' approval, there was nothing to be done about it. Albus finally nodded.

"As you wish, Severus," he gave in tiredly, but Severus felt no sympathy for him. Of course, it was far past time to rid everyone, especially Harry, of Voldemort, but he would not be pressured into it...not until he knew Harry would be safe. Harry stirred beside him; Severus turned, raising his eyebrows in question.

"How will we ever be able to be certain though, without just trying to activate it?" he asked. "And how do we activate the Charm anyway?" he wondered, glancing between Severus and the Headmaster. Albus was tapping his desk thoughtfully.

"If we could view the memories of the day Lily cast the Charm, Severus, it might be possible to develop a spell that would allow us to identify a connection...if we can use some of the original incantations," he mused, his tone very quiet as he thought. Severus, listening carefully, nodded.

"It might be wise to view the memories of the day Lily and I were bonded as well," he added. "Our marriage bond created a mental connection as well," he elaborated for Harry's benefit, though they'd discussed it briefly before. Harry's face twisted in confusion.

"Do all marriages do that?" he asked, flushing slightly. Severus shook his head, though he wondered over Harry's embarrassment.

"No. As I explained earlier, it happens only with those who have an aptitude for the mental arts." He paused and nodded slightly, surmising Harry's train of thought. "You will most likely share such a connection with whomever you bond with."

Harry flushed deeper, but he nodded quickly and Severus was briefly startled by the nervous anticipation he felt from his son. It took him a moment to realize Harry had probably been thinking of Ms. Weasley and for some reason, Severus felt a brief surge of panic at the thought of where Harry's mind might have been straying.

Harry glanced curiously over at him and Severus firmed his shield again, deciding they would start working right after dinner to stabilize this bond between them. Harry was still watching him, likely trying to untangle the strange emotions Severus hadn't meant to let free. Severus turned back to Albus.

"I will extract my memories of both events," he decided and Albus nodded, moving over to his stone Pensieve. Severus stood and tried not to smile as Harry copied his movements; it was strange to have a shadow...and somehow pleasant.

Gathered around the Pensieve, Severus used his wand to withdraw both memories, feeling the slight discomfort as the silvery white substance floated thickly from his temple. Guiding it carefully with his wand, he let it swirl gently from the tip, until it filled the bottom of the Pensieve.

"Shall we go together?" Albus inquired.

"Ready Harry?" Severus asked quickly; Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You want me to come as well?"

Severus nodded, again stilling his amusement. "Of course, Harry." Harry grinned and again, Severus was almost overwhelmed by his excitement.

"Brilliant," Harry cheered and Albus chuckled. Then with a nod to both Severus and Harry, the three of them leaned toward the memories.

--

"Dad?"

Severus stopped walking. He turned slowly to face his son.

It was the first time Harry had used the title to get his attention, and Severus could feel the waves of nervousness radiating from him. Severus directed his own feelings of contentment at being called 'Dad' toward Harry's storm, and Harry relaxed.

"Yes?" Severus inquired. Harry smiled slightly with the ease in Severus' voice.

"You said I could stay in your--our quarters as long as I want, yeah?" The words were almost running together. Severus held back his amusement and nodded.

"I did."

Harry nodded a bit before rushing on, "Would it be all right if I moved some of my stuff in then?" He twisted his fingers together as he waited for Severus to answer. Severus covered his anxiety before he answered.

"Of course Harry. However you should be able to go back to the tower shortly, if you continue to eat. Your nightmares are subsiding, and as soon as we've mastered this new connection, you will be much safer on your own as well," he explained, and was startled as anxiety poured into his mind. He instantly stepped closer to Harry. "What is it?" he asked worriedly. Harry bit his lip.

"I know I'll be safe and all that..." he said quietly. Severus put a hand on his shoulder and was rewarded with a feeling of calm. "But...I want to stay in our quarters...instead of going back to the tower." Severus studied his son, whose green eyes were cloudy.

Keeping his voice carefully neutral and his shields firm, Severus asked smoothly, "You wish to live in our quarters, permanently?" Harry nodded, without any hesitation, but the movement was jerky. Severus frowned a little, even as the faint blossom of hope bloomed from his son. Harry was staring at him, presumably waiting for Severus to agree and Severus nodded. "I would be pleased to have you there, Harry," he said, trying to still his own pleasure at the idea.

Harry grinned at him and Severus almost smiled again. He shook his head abruptly and Harry frowned immediately, looking thoroughly confused. Damn. This was worse than he had thought.

"Harry," Severus said quickly, attempting to keep his tone reassuring, but he was feeling much too worried, "you are experiencing my emotions, mingling with your own." Harry let out a breath.

"I thought maybe I was just going mad," he exhaled and then he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Can you feel my emotions as well, then?" His lips twitched as Severus nodded uncomfortably. "Aren't they a bit wonky for you though?"

And damn it all, Severus almost laughed.

"I will be fine," he answered stiffly, to cover the inexplicable humor bubbling within him. "We will work on control tonight. Will you be all right until then?"

Harry nodded, grinning now. "I think I can handle your emotions," he said with a slight chuckle, though it was much more subdued than one Harry would normally express. Again, he looked confused, shaking his head as though to clear it. "It is a bit odd, though," he admitted, studying Severus and Severus nodded, feeling curious about nothing at all.

--

"You guys got to live with your families for eleven years before you had to move into the dorms," Harry was explaining his decision to Ron a few minutes later over dinner. Ron was looking very skeptical over the whole idea.

"But, Harry," he protested, "won't you be bored down there, all by yourself?"

"I won't be alone, Ron. That's sort of the point," he told his friend. "Besides, you guys can come down whenever you want and I can come up to the common room..." he glanced up at the Head Table, where his father was talking again to Remus. They'd been doing that a lot lately, he mused before turning back to Ron, "...well, you know, when I'm allowed to again."

"But you won't be able to do anything if you live with Snape!" Ron stressed, looking very agitated. Harry's lip twisted in a wry smile.

"I'm not exactly anxious to go around finding trouble to get into right now, Ron." Ron made a face, though Hermione nodded in agreement. Ron leaned forward.

"But come on, Harry, you'll miss all sorts of fun. What about Exploding Snap and parties after Quidditch?" he insisted. Harry tried not to shrug because he did feel sorry for his friend, but he'd already been living with this father for two weeks and though he did miss Ron, he didn't miss him enough to want to move back to the tower.

"I can still do all that stuff, Ron. Look I know it'll be strange for awhile, but I need to do this," he said, hoping his voice didn't betray the emotions he was feeling, though he was beginning to feel strangely calm again. Ron stared at him for several long moments before he finally sighed.

"Yeah, I guess I can understand," he allowed, though he didn't look any happier about it.

Ginny squeezed Harry's arm, and Harry felt a rush of...well, something different as he looked at her. No matter what was happening, Ginny never disappointed him; he was grateful that she had not interrupted Ron, allowing Ron to work it out on his own.

Harry smiled at her and then darted a quick glance up to his father. He was staring at Harry, an almost dazed look on his face and Harry ducked his head down. Damn. Is that what he had just looked like, completely addled, while he stared at Ginny?

"Are you going to start playing Quidditch again soon?" Neville broke into Harry's embarrassment as he finished the last of his pudding.

"I suppose. I haven't really thought much about it," he offered apologetically, feeling suddenly guilty for leaving his team in the lurch, especially as neither Ron nor Ginny seemed too pleased with Katie's leadership skills.

"It's all right; we don't have another match for awhile yet," Ginny reassured.

"Isn't it sort of dangerous for you to be flying about the pitch right now?" Hermione asked, leaning forward so that she was studying Harry. "I mean, if someone wanted to hex you, you'd be an easy target, wouldn't you?" She looked as though she was trying to solve a puzzle, instead of determining if Harry's life could be in danger.

"Harry..." Ginny murmured as Hermione's words sunk in and Harry shifted uncomfortably, thinking Hermione had made a very good point.

"But it was dangerous before Halloween and Sna--your dad let you fly then," Ron pointed out and Harry furrowed his brow. That was a very good point as well.

He glanced up at his dad, who was just getting up from the Head Table and Harry wondered how much of his worry and confusion his father was feeling through their connection. "I'll talk to him about it tonight." Ron nodded enthusiastically as he gulped down his second helping of cake.

Severus stopped again in front of Harry, his face very still as he took in Harry's friends.

"Have you finished?" he asked and Harry nodded, brushing his hands on his legs nervously as he stood up. Ginny stood as well.

"We're going to get my stuff from the tower," Harry explained to Ron and Hermione. They nodded and only after a moment's hesitation, Hermione stood up, pulling Ron with her.

"We'll walk with you," she announced and with a brief nod, Severus turned, leading the way. The four friends followed after him, both couples holding hands as they walked.

The enchanted staircase didn't move even one centimeter as Harry's father glided upward and Harry could almost feel its apprehension as his father ascended, noting that the stairs were moving quite a lot in the directions that did not lead to the tower...although, Harry mused, perhaps it was really his father's apprehension that was working its way through him. Harry was beginning to feel completely overwhelmed with confusion; he could barely tell which feelings were his own.

They reached the Fat Lady in record time. "Mutuus," Severus ordered and the Fat Lady wasted no time in swinging forward to allow them entry. Ron and Hermione glanced at one another in some confusion but they didn't say anything as Severus stepped back to allow the Gryffindors to enter.

They weren't many others in the common room but as Severus came though the portrait hole, every mouth fell open in shock. Harry had a hard time not glaring around the room in irritation at the annoying children. He shook his head, trying to still the unfamiliar urge to snap at his fellow Gryffindors as he and his friends trooped up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, with his father in tow.

Harry was surprised his father didn't say anything about Ginny and Hermione coming up without hesitation to Harry's room, but for all he knew, the Slytherin dormitories were much more lax with their rules.

"What are you taking with you?" Hermione asked as she assessed the room. Harry looked around quickly, realizing that he really didn't have much of anything, save his trunk and his Firebolt.

"Just my trunk and my Firebolt."

Hermione and Ginny nodded, setting about to gather some of his scattered belongings.

"We can shrink your trunk. You should take the Pensieve out first though," his father directed and Harry nodded.

He opened his trunk and with his wand, he reversed the complicated Concealment Charm he'd put on the Pensieve.

"That is an intricate charm," his father remarked as Harry pulled the now-visible Pensieve from the depths of his trunk. Harry nodded.

"Hermione showed me how to do it," he said. Severus gave her a little nod of approval and Hermione flushed, turning quickly away. Harry smiled as he set the Pensieve on the floor. "Should I use the same Shrinking Spell as I used on my clothes?" he asked his father. Severus nodded.

Harry said the incantation, tapping the large trunk once; the trunk shrunk until Harry could pick it up in his hand. He put it carefully in his pocket, feeling much too proud of his little achievement. Then he stood up, with the Pensieve in his arms. His father took it from him though, ignoring Harry's protest as he glanced down at the stone receptacle. He stiffened.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked quickly, feeling a jolt of grief from his father. Something about the Pensieve... And then realizing they were standing there with his friends gawking at them, he turned away from his father.

"We'll see you at breakfast tomorrow then, Harry," Ginny intervened. Harry smiled gratefully at her.

"Yeah," he agreed. Ron nodded, still looking unhappy. Hermione moved past him a bit and gave Harry a hug.

"Have fun, Harry," she said simply.

He turned then to Ginny and embraced her as well, as swiftly as he could, feeling strangely uncomfortable with the contact and then he clapped Ron on the back before retreating with his father and this time as they walked past the gaping Gryffindors, he felt no irritation. He felt anxiety though and it only increased as they wound their way to their quarters. By the time they got there, Harry wasn't sure whose anxiety he was feeling.

"Is something wrong with the Pensieve?" Harry asked as soon as the door closed behind them, his voice warbling with nerves. Instead of answering, his father continued slowly to the table next to the Floo and set the Pensieve down gently. Harry watched as he slowly ran his forefinger along the rim.

"It is a message," Severus murmured quietly; Harry moved forward until he was standing next to him, his anxiety settling a bit. He looked down at the runes all around the lip, but he couldn't make any sort of sense of them.

"For me?" he asked. His father squinted down at the symbols, twisting the bowl around in a full circle before he looked back up at Harry.

"No...for me."

Harry stared at him. "What?" he asked, bewildered. "But it was in my vault...how could the message be for you?" he asked. His father shook his head. "What does it say?" Harry asked eagerly as he leaned in closer to the runes.

"It is a plea for me to view the memories," Severus answered slowly and Harry's insides fairly danced with excitement.

"From mum," Harry surmised, though he didn't understand. "But, why would she have put it in James' vault if she wanted you to see it?" and then with understanding, he said sharply, "Dumbledore put it there. He must have..." Harry trailed off; his father was gazing at him.

"You never saw the Pensieve in James' vault before this summer, correct?"

Harry shook his head. "No...and it was sort of in plain sight, right near the front," he answered. His father nodded.

"Harry," he said, sounding resigned, "I do not think Albus knew any more than I did before this summer." Harry raised his eyebrows in disbelief, his lips pinching together. His father raised his own eyebrow, frowning a little. "He has been much too regretful of the past to have wanted us to be apart from the beginning," he explained and Harry narrowed his eyes in disbelief, even though it seemed perfectly easy to understand.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know, genuinely curious. Severus removed his teaching robes, settling them over the back of one of the wooden chairs.

"He did not know until you came to Hogwarts that the Dursleys mistreated you."

Harry clenched his jaw in renewed anger at the Headmaster. "Well, there was nothing stopping him from checking up on me, was there?" he retorted. "And, he knew after I started here and he still made me go back there!" Harry folded his arms over his chest angrily. His father nodded in agreement.

"I do not mean to say that Albus did not make mistakes, and neither am I pleased with any of the choices he made. But he never meant to hurt you, Harry. Of that I am certain."

Harry continued to glare for a moment before uncrossing his arms finally, accepting his father's words. "All right," he conceded, "but then if he didn't know all along about us, how did the Pensieve get into the vault?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that it was indeed Albus who put it there," Severus answered, a hint of amusement in his voice. Harry stared at him.

"Well, but that doesn't make any sense," he objected with a misplaced smile, and was further surprised when his father smiled as well.

"It does if you have known Albus for the better part of twenty years as I have," he argued and Harry continued to stare, waiting for his father to explain. Severus shook his head a bit. "He must have found this in the ruins of our home when he was there this summer."

Harry threw up his arms in exasperation. "Why didn't he just tell me then? He picked me up from Privet Drive and didn't say a word!" he ranted. His father didn't try to stop him, so he continued, "Why is everything some sort of game with him?"

"Albus always has a very different approach than others to any given problem. No doubt, he thought it was best for us to work through this on our own," Severus answered, not sounding at all perturbed by the duplicitous Headmaster. Harry shook his head.

"But doesn't that frustrate you?" he asked, starting to feel resigned when his father shook his head.

"There is little point in being frustrated with Albus. Besides which, Harry, it makes little difference now," he pointed out and Harry nodded in agreement before he realized he was feeling overly reasonable. He made a face.

"Why do you have to be so logical about everything?" he groused, then smiled as his father quirked his brow.

"I had no idea you found me so," he said dryly. Harry shrugged.

"I didn't say that was necessarily a good thing," he returned with a smirk and with a small smirk of his own, his father shook his head.

"We need to work on tempering this connection before you start on your assignments," he decided and Harry nodded eagerly.

"Yeah...you're driving me crazy!" Harry grinned as Severus' lips twitched. "And if we keep this up, you're actually going to laugh." And then Harry chuckled as his father's jaw began to quiver, as though he was trying very hard not to laugh.

--

Harry woke up the next morning, without a single nightmare. He felt perfectly at ease as he padded down the corridor to the washroom, after noting his father was already up. Having assumed he was in his lab, Harry was surprised to find his father in front of the washroom mirror. He was shaving, using lather and an old-fashioned Muggle razor.

Harry stared at his father's reflection, leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing?" he asked in wonder. His father looked askance at Harry's reflection.

"It is often referred to as shaving," he informed Harry seriously. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I know that," he answered back, "but there's a spell for that, you know."

"Is there?" his father drawled as he continued to run the blade down his cheek, as though he had never heard any such notion. Harry pushed away from the door and moved so that his back was facing the mirror. He folded his arms across his chest, eyeing his father.

"Why are you doing it the Muggle way?" he finally asked after he'd watched his father meticulously going through what was obviously part of his morning routine. Severus ran his razor along his jaw, and then wiped the blade on a towel before answering.

"Your mother introduced it to me and I found I prefer the effect over the customary Shaving Spell. I have been doing it the Muggle way for many years."

Though his father's voice had remained perfectly composed, Harry still asked softly, "Does it bother you to talk about mum?" He felt his father's brief surprise.

"Not with you," he answered simply and Harry smiled.

After a quiet minute he told his father, "I can still feel some of what you're feeling."

His father had demonstrated last night how to shadow the tiny flame amongst his storm so that he could control what he was projecting, but it was almost impossible at this point and his father had assured him he would get better with practice. "Can you still feel my emotions as well?" he pressed. His father nodded. "Too much still?" Harry guessed with a sheepish smile, knowing his father was uncomfortable with how deeply Harry's feelings sometimes went, but his father patted his shoulder.

"Do not worry about it, Harry," he advised. Harry nodded as his father finished with his shaving and put away his supplies. "If you wish to eat breakfast in the Great Hall, you should get ready."

Harry nodded. "Right," he agreed, but instead of actually getting ready, he followed his father out of the washroom and on into the sitting room. His father turned around, his eyebrow raised.

"Perhaps you misunderstood," he began, his voice lilting a bit, but Harry shook his head.

"No, I didn't, but I wanted to talk to you about Quidditch. I meant to last night," he explained as he levered himself to half-sit on the table. His father eyed him with some amusement and Harry smiled. "Hermione mentioned last night that it might not be the safest idea for me to play...because I'd be an easy target," he elaborated; his father nodded.

"She is correct. Playing Quidditch does hold a certain amount of risk," he acknowledged.

"But then, why did you let me play at all?" Harry wondered, thinking his father had gone quite daft.

"I put a Protego Charm around you," his father answered matter-of-factly. Harry goggled at him.

"You did?" he asked in complete astonishment. His father nodded easily. Harry leaned further against the table. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked casually, feeling much more at ease than he should have. He pushed a bit to cover his father's flame, giving him a look.

"Are you doing that on purpose?" he demanded abruptly and he almost laughed as his father's lips twitched. "How am I supposed to be annoyed if you're shooting feelings of calm at me?"

"My apologies," Severus offered, without any sort of sincerity. And then he said more seriously, "At the time I did not wish to worry you."

Harry's brow wrinkled. "I could have handled it," he replied, making sure not to sound too annoyed, though his father could likely feel his irritation.

"I know that now," Severus agreed soberly. "Are you planning to resume Quidditch then?"

"Yeah," Harry answered with a little shrug. His father nodded.

"I will arrange for you to see Madame Pomfrey this weekend. If she clears you, you may resume practice a week from this Monday," he declared and Harry frowned.

"A week from Monday?" he echoed, and then faltered. He glanced nervously up at his father, not really sure how to proceed. "But, that's not really seeing my friends," he reasoned. Severus raised his eyebrow.

"And will Mr. Weasley be attending practice next week?"

Harry frowned. "Well, no," he admitted, remembering how Ron had complained about how he'd be missing Quidditch for almost two weeks. But then with a sudden thought, he countered, "But Ron's and Neville's detentions are after dinner. So, studying with my friends before dinner should be no problem." His father smirked a little, looking highly amused by Harry's wheedling.

"Excellent point," he conceded with a nod. "Now go get dressed," he ordered and with a grin, Harry obeyed, though by the time he was ready, his father had gone ahead and ordered breakfast for them. Harry, invigorated by his newfound hunger, had no trouble eating again this morning, at least until his father told him their after-dinner plans.

"We're going to Grimmauld Place?" he asked, hating the way his voice cracked at the end. His father glanced up quickly from his plate; his features softened.

"It will be all right, Harry," he told him quietly. Harry's teeth grazed his top lip.

"I haven't been there since..." He shook his head, feeling all of sudden very guilty that he hadn't spared much thought to Sirius in such a long time, and then his face tingled a bit. "Wouldn't it better to meet somewhere else...with Kreatcher there...he was the one who-" He shook his head again in agitation.

"Kreatcher has been dealt with," his father broke in smoothly. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Dealt with?" he repeated, fiercely ignoring his father's attempts to send him feelings of calm. "You mean killed," he stated dully and his father nodded without concern. Harry's insides prickled.

"Did you...?" he asked in one breath, but his father shook his head firmly.

"No, I did not."

Harry nodded, feeling relieved and allowing his father's ease to seep into his mind. He didn't much like the idea of his father as a house-elf murderer.

Severus went back to his eggs as he continued in a conversational tone, "Grimmauld Place, along with everything else Black owned, was left to you."

Harry shrugged. "I know. Dumbledore told me when he took me to the Burrow." He wished Sirius hadn't left him any of those things. He didn't want any reminders. Especially as his godfather would have been very angry about everything that had happened in the past few months. Not only had Sirius' best friend lied to him, his worst enemy had been Harry's father all along.

"Damn," he groaned, and then flushed as he realized he'd said that out loud.

"Are you all right?" his father asked immediately and Harry briefly thought about just nodding, but he figured his father would likely understand; after all, the animosity between Severus and Sirius had been completely mutual, and anyway his father could feel his discomfort.

"I was just thinking how much Sirius would hate this," he explained as he swirled his fork in his toast crumbs. His father nodded.

"It would have been difficult for him to accept," he agreed and somehow that made Harry feel more at ease, but he didn't seem to be able to still the irritation he felt.

"Difficult?" he repeated. "He probably would have hexed you for it," he said with a scowl, feeling no amusement at all with the idea.

"Quite likely," Severus agreed and then his mouth turned down in a sad smile. His eyes grew stormy and Harry was hit by a wall of grief. "Black cared for you, Harry," his father told him, his voice very soft. "Almost as much as James did...and Lupin."

Harry swallowed. "You really think he would have been okay with you being my father?" he asked and after a minute, Severus nodded.

"Eventually," he allowed and Harry frowned a little as he tried to untangle the emotions churning up inside him.

--

The rest of the day was much easier. It was more difficult to feel his father's emotions from a distance, and he was a bit surprised when Severus and Remus came to collect him from the Gryffindor table as soon as dinner concluded. Severus wasn't projecting any emotions. Harry frowned, wishing he could have as much control.

His father caught his look and assured immediately, "It will come, Harry." Harry nodded as he stood up, about to say goodbye to his friends, but his father announced abruptly, "The Headmaster wishes the three of you to come as well. Professor Lupin will escort you."

Ginny, Ron and Hermione nodded immediately and Ron, looking particularly relieved as it meant he'd be skipping detention, scrambled up. Remus smiled in amusement.

"Come along." He gestured to them and Harry's friends, after quick goodbyes, followed after Remus.

"Why aren't we going with them?" Harry asked as he walked beside his father out of the Great Hall.

"Albus asked to see me."

"About the same thing as yesterday?" he guessed, guarding his words, but his dad shook his head. And since he didn't elaborate, Harry figured it must be something that shouldn't be overheard by the passing students so he didn't press for more details.

"Cinnamon Mint," his father rapped out once they had reached the Gargoyle and then they were spun to the Headmaster's office door. They stepped in as soon as the door opened for them. Harry, his eyes going wide, feeling a fear he wished he didn't feel, took a step back. He bumped into his father's chest.

"Lucius," Severus smoothly greeted the man standing next to Albus, even as he put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt a welcome calm come over him. He wasn't sure what he was nervous about anyway.

"Severus," Lucius returned through his pinched lips. His gaze strayed to Harry. "Mr. Potter," he greeted, putting a little too much sneering emphasis on the Potter and Harry stiffened. His father's fingers gripped against his shoulder, and Harry made himself ignore his annoyance as he stared back at Lucius.

"Narcissa, how are you?" Severus was asking, his voice seething with polite interest. Mrs. Malfoy smiled tightly at both of them.

"I am well, thank you," she replied, her tone brittle.

Malfoy was standing stiffly on the other side of his father, staring straight ahead, as though he was trying very hard not to make eye contact with either Harry or Severus.

"Lucius and I were just going over last night's meeting with Voldemort." All three of the Malfoys flinched at the name; Dumbledore smiled. "Kingsley, if you would escort Lucius and Narcissa back to their home," he added, gesturing toward the Floo. Shacklebolt, who Harry had only just noticed, was standing near the Floo with Tonks. He nodded.

"A word, Draco, before we depart," Lucius directed without even looking at Malfoy as he turned toward the Floo. Malfoy didn't pause though, obediently following his father. Mrs. Malfoy brought up the rear. Shacklebolt and Tonks waited discreetly a few meters from the family.

"You will conduct yourself appropriately," Lucius was saying coldly and Harry watched as Lucius tapped the silver head of his cane against Malfoy's cheek to emphasize his words. Harry's insides pinched nervously; he turned away from them.

His father was watching Harry closely, his eyes turbulent and Harry wondered if he was thinking about Tobias. They waited silently together until Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy finally Flooed away with Shacklebolt; Tonks stayed close to Malfoy.

"Severus, if you and Harry would like to go first," Dumbledore suggested into the silence and although his father had already told him Malfoy was coming along, he still felt a surge of nervousness as he thought about how Sirius would not have liked it.

Harry followed his father into the fireplace, carefully not looking at Draco as Severus threw down the powder. And then a heavy sadness settled over Harry as they stepped out into Grimmauld Place; he felt his father's hand briefly patting his shoulder. He was distracted further as Ginny, Ron and Hermione came out of the kitchen. "Hi Harry," they greeted simultaneously.

Before Harry even had a chance to greet them, Mrs. Weasley came from the kitchen as well and snapped to Ron, "I believe you have some work to do upstairs, Ronald." Ron's face flushed as his mother handed him a bucket full of cleaning supplies and Harry almost volunteered to help him, but Mrs. Weasley was already moving toward him.

She gathered him in a close hug and Harry returned it. "How are you, Harry dear?" she asked, as she trained her eye up and down. Before he could even answer, she turned sharply to Harry's father. "Severus, I hear you've been taking good care of Harry." She continued sternly to Harry, "You mind your father now, Harry." Harry nodded solemnly though he was trying to not to laugh. Mrs. Weasley smiled broadly, patting Harry encouragingly on the back. "That's a good boy."

Malfoy and Tonks appeared in the Floo and Mrs. Weasley waved her hands toward the other room. "You children go play now while we have our chat," she directed and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Go on, now," Mrs. Weasley encouraged with a gentle push to Harry's back, as he floundered.

Hermione had gone with Ron to do whatever chores his mother had assigned him and Harry didn't know how he was going to sit in the same room with Malfoy and Ginny. He found his eyes straying to his father, who simply nodded and with a somewhat muted sigh, Harry followed Ginny into the other room, with Malfoy presumably following.

As if they were all merely puppets on strings, each one of them sat, their backs stiff and their hands folded in their laps. Ginny kept darting her gaze between Harry and Malfoy, but Malfoy continued his performance from earlier, just staring. They might have sat that way all night, but without warning, the door was flung open from the sitting room. George and Fred, their mouths turned down in identical frowns, burst into the room.

"Oi, Ginny!" Fred exclaimed and then as he took in Malfoy sitting stiffly on the other side of the room, he narrowed his eyes. "Oh good...Malfoy. These two need a chaperone." Malfoy's grey eyes flicked toward them, but he said nothing. Fred and George exchanged looks before turning to glare pointedly at Harry.

"Mind your manners, now Harry. Ginny's still an innocent little thing," Fred said in a sing-song sort of voice and Ginny immediately stood up while Harry blushed at Fred's insinuation.

"Get out of here!" Ginny said fiercely. The twins smirked at her.

"Well, all right," George allowed, "but only because Malfoy's in here to keep you out of trouble." Ginny stalked toward her brothers and both of them backed up in mock-horror.

"Ginny, you don't want Harry to think you're mean-tempered, do you?" Fred asked.

"Well, that way at least, she'll stay our innocent little thing," George observed and then the twins ducked as Ginny threw a dusty book toward them. Chortling, they left, though Harry noticed, even with all of their humor, they left the door open. And through the entire exchange, Malfoy hadn't moved a centimeter.

Ginny looked between them and then, with a silent reassuring squeeze against his fingers, she said, "I'm going to see if Ron and Hermione need any help."

But even after she'd left, Malfoy continued to stare off to his left, his fingers tightly clamped on his knees and Harry wasn't sure there had been any point to Ginny's leaving. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, even alone with Malfoy. So instead, Harry let his own gaze wander about the room, remembering with a dull pang the times he'd spent here with Sirius.

His eyes fell on the old desk in the corner and he remembered the cleaning they'd all done here with fondness...there really had been a lot to throw away, papers and books, that old locket that none of them could open--Harry narrowed his eyes as he thought of that locket, wondering if could have anything to do with the locket his father had asked Dumbledore about yesterday. He'd have to ask his dad later, but for now the silence in the room had grown oppressive...

After too many more minutes of stifling quiet, Harry asked quickly, "Is your father all right after last night?"

Malfoy stiffened and Harry wished he hadn't asked.

"What do you care, Potter?" Malfoy snapped. Harry pursed his lips and realizing his father, and probably Dumbledore, had likely arranged things this way, he went against all of his instincts.

"I know what it's like to worry about someone like that and I'm sorry, that's all," he offered quietly. Malfoy finally looked at him, his gray eyes dark. His shoulders seemed to slump a bit.

"It doesn't matter," he finally said, his voice subdued. Harry shook his head.

"Of course it matters, Malfoy. Nobody should have to worry so much about someone they care about."

Malfoy snorted in response. "Have you been re-sorted into Hufflepuff, Potter?" he asked with a sneer. "We don't need your pity and my father can take care of himself," he said importantly. Harry stared at the other boy.

"I didn't say he couldn't," Harry denied. "I was just trying to-"

"What Potter?" Malfoy demanded. "It's not enough that you're the bloody savior of the wizarding world, now you need to play Mind Healer with me? I don't need your sympathy," he finished furiously and Harry's eyes snapped in anger.

"I wasn't trying to analyze you, Malfoy," he bit out. "I was just trying to talk to you. We're not exactly on opposite sides anymore-"

Malfoy stood abruptly, his face drained of all color. He stalked past Harry and without another word, he slammed the door behind him. Harry stared at the wooden door as it echoed. He wondered briefly if someone would make Malfoy come back in, but after a few minutes of waiting, the door stayed closed, so Harry pushed himself up from the sofa and went out into the sitting room. Malfoy was sitting primly on one of the chairs, staring again. Harry shook his head and went to the kitchen door. He knocked hesitantly.

The door was opened immediately by Mrs. Weasley. Her face immediately became concerned. "What's wrong Harry?" she questioned and almost instantly, she was moved aside by Harry's father.

"Harry?" he demanded. Harry had to bite his lip from laughing at his father's overprotective worry. He shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong. But I just wanted someone to know that Malfoy doesn't want anything to do with the rest of us and I didn't think it was such a good idea to leave him alone."

His father nodded curtly, backing up a pace from the door as Tonks, with a loud sigh, came through. Harry pointed to the sitting room and with a roll of her eyes, she moved in that direction.

"Is everything else all right?" Severus asked quietly. Harry nodded.

"Go on upstairs, Harry," Mrs. Weasley suggested. "The other children are up there." Harry nodded, giving his father a little smile before Mrs. Weasley shut the door again. He turned to go up the stairs, but Ginny was already on her way back down.

"What happened to Malfoy?" she asked. Harry sighed.

"He stormed out." Ginny smiled in understanding and took his hand. "Is Ron actually cleaning?" he asked. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"No, and trust me, you do not want to go see what he and Hermione are doing," she answered with a smirk. And smiling with her, the two of them went back to the office that Harry had just vacated. Malfoy was still in the sitting room, under guard now. Tonks waggled her fingers at them as they went quickly past.

"I should have stayed I guess," Ginny decided as they plopped down on the ragged sofa. "Maybe he would have been nicer." Harry shrugged.

"I doubt it. He's sort of impossible," he told her seriously. She smiled.

"Speaking of being alone in here," she said pointedly and Harry raised his eyebrows.

"We weren't speaking of being alone," he objected, and then chuckled as she moved closer.

"Well, as this is the only time we're going to get for the next week, maybe we should be," she suggested.

Not wasting another minute, Harry leaned over Ginny, pressing her into the arm of the sofa. She smiled as he moved closer, reaching up to pull his head down. Harry's heart hammered in his chest, forgetting about everything else as Ginny kissed him; they completely lost track of time.

"Ginevra Weasley!"

Harry's eyes widened and he flung himself backward, quickly untangling his and Ginny's legs and snatching his hands away from where they'd planted themselves on Ginny's hips, as Mrs. Weasley's voice screeched indignantly. The flame on his neck fired up through his face as he saw his father standing slightly behind Ginny's mum, his features stiff. Harry bit his lip and looked down at the faded cushion on the sofa.

"Mum!" Ginny objected, sounding just as indignant as he mother had, as she pushed herself up from the sofa.

Without pausing, Mrs. Weasley grabbed Ginny's wrist and pulled her unceremoniously from the room. "That is no way for you to behave!" Harry could hear her lecturing as her voice faded quickly away. Harry glanced up through his fringe; his father was still staring down at him.

--

Severus' mind was assaulted with a feeling of simple lust as Molly pushed open the door to the little office and then as she shrieked her daughter's name, Severus felt a loud mixture of embarrassment and trepidation. He forced the feelings down as he watched while his son scrambled off of Ms. Weasley; he had been pressed rather tightly against her.

Harry's face flamed a deep red as he tried not to catch Severus' eye. Severus stepped aside silently as Molly pulled her daughter from the room, the matron's voice ringing loudly through the house as they went toward the kitchen. The feelings of anxiety raged from Harry as Severus carefully sat on the sofa.

"I am not angry," Severus assured his son immediately.

"You're not?" Harry asked, bewildered. Severus shook his head. There was a long silence as he considered his next words carefully.

"Has anyone ever spoken with you about the proper way to behave with a young lady?" he asked seriously, realizing that the only person who might have, would have been Black; Severus cringed at the thought.

"Young lady?" Harry echoed, sounding dismayed. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"You do realize that Ms. Weasley is a young lady, I presume," he asked, feeling somewhat amused by his son's embarrassment.

"Of course I realize it," Harry grumbled, "...it just sounds so old-fashioned."

Severus ignored the slight irritation in Harry's tone to redirect the conversation. "May I assume from your chagrin with Draco's taunting in class yesterday that you have not yet been intimate with anyone?"

Harry's face burned, his eyes shooting downward again, and Severus felt his own neck heating with Harry's mortification. He pushed against the warmth; it receded. Ignoring his own discomfort, as well as his son's, Severus pressed, "Harry?" Harry nodded silently and Severus pursed his lips. Uncertain how much Harry would have taken young Malfoy's taunting as a challenge, he asked quickly, "Was this in fact, about what Draco said to you?" His voice was too shaky.

"No!" Harry yelped, his voice rising to an uncomfortable octave; Severus shifted nervously. "I mean, we weren't about to--we weren't doing anything..." Harry finished uncomfortably as his face bloomed scarlet.

Harry's discomfort unsettled Severus and having no wish to embarrass his son further, he asked quietly, "Have you and Ms. Weasley discussed your feelings?" Harry looked confused, as his eyes finally came up again and Severus clarified, "What are your feelings toward Ms. Weasley?" Harry stared at him for a minute before he shifted uncomfortably and Severus was startled by the depth of Harry's emotions for the girl and he wondered if Harry even realized that he loved her.

--

The warmth that had spread throughout his body had backed off a bit and he was certain that was his father's doing, as Harry really just wanted to sink through the floor. What sort of question was that? How could he explain how he felt about Ginny--to his dad no less? Merlin's balls, what he wouldn't give for Malfoy to walk back through that door right now.

Shifting uncomfortably as his father waited for an answer, he wondered how pointless it would be to refuse to answer; most likely completely pointless. There was no way his father would just let this go. And anyway, he wasn't a coward...

He squared his shoulders, forcing his mind to calm. "I care about her," he stated, sounding almost unaffected by his own embarrassment. His father nodded, his features not quite still.

"And have you told her how you feel?"

Harry was certain he could detect faint spots of pink against his father's cheeks even as he felt his own face heating again. "Not really," he admitted softly. His father pursed his lips.

"It is not wise to allow yourself to become carried away without an understanding of how the other person feels...especially as I am certain that you do not wish to hurt Ms. Weasley."

Harry swallowed nervously. Of course he didn't want to hurt Ginny. "We weren't about to...well you know...anything..." he trailed off, feeling ridiculous and childish; it wasn't as if he had never thought about it, but he wasn't about to admit that...or even anything close to it. He was confused as his father smiled a little.

"That would have been in poor taste indeed, as most of her family was right outside the door," he remarked. "As far as that goes, though, Harry, it would be best to show a bit more decorum, even without sex."

Harry couldn't answer, as the word almost submerged him into a panic and he was almost certain his face would go up in flames at any moment. He made a couple of attempts at a stuttering response before he finally gave up and fell silent, feeling completely mortified. His father gazed at him silently for a long time before he relaxed a bit.

"You are young, Harry," he said in that almost-gentle voice of his. "There is no reason to rush into anything." Before Harry could say anything, his dad leaned in a bit and said, in an even softer voice, "It is an experience you will enjoy much more if you wait until you are ready." And though it was impossible, Harry felt like his entire face and neck was burning painfully. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, this conversation would fade into nothing but a nightmare.

"It is also wise to be certain you have chosen the right young lady," his father continued. Harry's eyes snapped open, the embarrassment turning immediately to irritation. He knew his father would say something like that!

"And I should date lots of girls, before I can be sure?" he almost snapped, catching himself just in time so it came out in a tone only a bit harder than normal, but he didn't want to have this conversation either. He couldn't explain how he felt about Ginny, and so Harry was quite surprised when his father shook his head, with a little smile.

"Not at all. Your mother was the only woman I really ever courted seriously."

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?" he asked, almost forgetting what had brought them to this conversation, as he loved hearing about his mum, especially from his father. Severus nodded, his face relaxing fully as he settled against the worn cushions.

"I was taken with Lily from the first time I saw her," he explained, his eyes lighting with the memory.

"But you didn't start-er-courting her until your seventh year, right?" Harry remembered and his father nodded.

"We were friends for most of our years at Hogwarts, though I always felt much more than friendship for your mother," he admitted fondly.

"Well, what made her change her mind?" Harry asked. His father smiled a bit more, most likely feeling too much excitement from Harry.

"James had been trying to gain her favor for years," Severus explained, "and Lily finally agreed to go to Hogsmeade with him early in our seventh year...he kissed her."

Harry grinned at the irritation coming off in waves from his father. Harry tried not to laugh. "So, mum got mad, then?" he surmised but Severus shook his head.

"She just asked James to bring her back to the castle. He did and she came looking for me." His eyes had lost much of their focus and his voice was full of wonderment. Harry felt very warm inside, and he was reminded fiercely of the way he always felt when he was with Ginny.

He listened in fascination as his dad continued softly, "She told me that when James kissed her, she found herself wishing she was kissing me instead."

And there was no room for embarrassment about the idea of his parents snogging, as Harry was feeling too many other emotions, from pure elatedness to infinite grief. Harry smiled sadly at his father. "You really love her, don't you?" Of course it was no surprise, but he had never experienced the full breadth of emotions his father felt for his mum. His father looked surprised for a moment and then nodded.

"Immensely," he answered simply and then he leaned forward a little. "And that is how you and a young lady should feel toward one another before making any decisions about intimacy," he said seriously. Harry squirmed again.

But before he could stop himself, Harry asked, "How will I know when that is though?" He wanted to be embarrassed, but his father's face held no judgment and in fact Harry thought his dad felt pleased. Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"I cannot make that decision for you, Harry," his father told him. "I would prefer that you wait until you are ready for all the consequences that come with it and that you be responsible. But most of all, Harry, I do not wish to see you hurt and if you and Ginny are not ready, it will hurt both of you."

Harry stared at his father. None of that had been what he'd been expecting his father to say. He had expected his father to order the two of them to keep at least a meter of space between them at all times...and had his dad just called Ginny by her first name?

And then leaning forward a bit, Severus inquired, "Do you know the appropriate Contraceptive Charm?" Harry cringed, and with a wry smile, his father promised, "I will teach it to you. And it would be wise for you to insure that Ms. Weasley knows the correct Charm for herself as well," he advised. "Though," he mused, "I cannot imagine that Molly would teach it to her. Perhaps I should teach it to both of you."

"Dad!" Harry objected, his face flaming again, and then he froze; the word had come tumbling out and he could immediately feel the happiness from his father, even as his own face lit in a smile through his flush. It really did feel good to call him that, but he still looked away in embarrassment at the idea of his father teaching Ginny a Contraceptive Charm. Was he completely mad?

"I don't really think...wait," Harry interrupted himself. "Did you say something about a locket the other day, in Dumbledore's office?" He asked as he stared again at the desk in the corner. His father nodded, unperturbed by Harry's calculated subject change. "We found a locket here when we were cleaning. We couldn't open it though-" He was startled when his father stood up without warning.

"What happened to it?" he demanded. Harry pursed his lips in thought.

"Sirius put it in a pile of junk to be thrown away-"

"Did Kreatcher see it?" Severus interrupted again. Harry shrugged. His eyes narrowing, his father spun around and left the room with long, quick strides. Harry, perplexed, hurried after him, passing both Remus and Dumbledore in the sitting room as they talked quietly over tea.

Harry almost crashed into his father's back when Severus stopped abruptly in front of the cupboard where Kreatcher had slept. His father wrenched the door open and crouched down. Then with a sharp movement, Severus yanked his arm back up.

The locket and its chain were hanging in mid-air, directed by Severus' wand. The locket went a bit higher as Severus narrowed his eyes, studying it. Then he straightened up and without a word, he headed back to the sitting room.

"Albus," Severus called sharply. Remus and Dumbledore were already facing the kitchen and

Severus held out the locket, still swinging from its delicate chain for them to see, and with an almost reverent "Ah", Dumbledore plucked it from the air, bringing it close to his spectacled eyes.

Harry looked up in surprise as his dad's hand gripped around his elbow; the movement felt frantic somehow. "Is that it?" Severus demanded harshly and after what seemed a very long moment, Dumbledore nodded, his mouth moving into a huge, triumphant smile. Remus, next to him, grinned as well, looking quite giddy.

"That's it," Dumbledore announced, his voice full of awe. His eyes were glowing and Harry frowned as some sort of spasm seemed to have overtaken his father; the fingers around Harry's elbow tightened.

1996

Harry tried to pull his elbow away, but his father held tight; he was staring at Dumbledore. Harry turned his eyes back to the Headmaster. The old blue eyes were darkening, and Harry flinched as fire exploded his scar. Before he had time to react, Severus was flinging him backwards with a force much more powerful than Harry could have expected.

He landed with a hard crack inside the fireplace and in the next instant, as he cried out in protest, Harry was swallowed in green flame, even as a roared command, stay put, Harry! flamed through his mind. He had no idea how to answer back as the rooms flashed by with dizzying speed.

The Floo spit him out angrily and Harry flew a couple of meters through the air before crashing down on a hard floor, his nose smashing up against the wood. Pain seared through his face. He had to drag a shallow breath through his open mouth before he was steady enough to sit up.

Harry looked around in bleary confusion, his eyes blinking rapidly against the sting of pain. He reached a cautious hand up and flinched as he brushed against his nose; his fingers came away from his face coated in crimson.

He reached his other hand up belatedly to his scar, as he realized that the blinding pain he'd experienced in Grimmauld Place was gone. But he was almost certain he'd seen Dumbledore's eyes turning red and then a terror that had not been his own, had gripped him before his father had threw him into the Floo. Before the green flames had finished pulling themselves around him, Harry had seen his father raising his wand toward the Headmaster.

Anxiety filled him and though Harry wasn't sure he was steady enough to stand, he did finally draw his wand. But he couldn't hear any sounds that might indicate he wasn't completely alone. He looked around the room slowly, carefully trying not to move the muscles in his face too much. The room was fairly large, though it was mostly empty, except for a sofa, a low table...and a picture.

Harry squinted toward the frame, wincing again as he did. His mum was smiling out at him, his toddler self laughing in her arms and Harry realized this must be the safe house his father had mentioned, but since he'd never been told the location, he couldn't see how he could have gotten here. He couldn't worry about that right now...

Harry levered himself with his hand against the sofa and stood up, his knees shaky. His head swam and he thought he'd sick up. He paused, trying to allow himself to regain his equilibrium, but it was almost impossible. All he wanted to do was rush back into the Floo and go back to his dad. He didn't know what had happened but whatever it was, somehow it had to with that locket.

Ignoring the wash of nausea as well as the throbbing throughout his face, Harry turned unsteadily back toward the fireplace, a new anxiety working through him. He knew his father would likely ground him for a month if he went back, as the order to stay where he was had been unmistakable, but he couldn't just sit here, waiting to find out what was happening. Both his dad and Remus were there and Dumbledore...well it was as if he had somehow been possessed. The only other eyes he'd ever seen that had glowed that way had been Voldemort's. And his scar had burned...

With a shaky nod, though no one could see him, Harry finished his journey to the Floo. He found the small box of powder on the mantel; it looked just as delicate as the one in their quarters at Hogwarts. Harry moved his fingers over the top of the box, but it didn't seem to have a lid.

"Amium," he commanded as he pointed his wand at the box. He winced as the word came out differently than he'd intended. Damn nose! The box stayed firmly closed. "Obvium," he ordered more forcefully, stressing the word this time and then gasping as fire spread throughout his features, but still nothing happened. Frustrated, and hoping maybe he could split the box open, Harry threw it sharply against the floor. The box stayed closed.

"Shit," he muttered as his face throbbed even more. Not knowing what else to do, he sank into the chair next to the fireplace. Harry stared at the Floo, willing his father and Remus to appear.

--

Severus gripped Harry's arm as Albus' eyes began to darken toward crimson. With as much force as he could, he threw Harry behind him, silently directing the Floo to take him away. He closed his mind to his son's protests, while ordering him somehow through their connection not to come back and with a mighty roar of flames, Harry was whisked away to safety.

Even as he shunted Harry away, he raised his wand toward Albus, commanding, "Accio Locket!" but Albus' counter-Charm was faster; the locket stayed put. Lupin, much too late, understood and made a jerky movement toward the Headmaster, swiping at the swaying Horcrux.

Albus, with a chilling hiss, turned toward Lupin.

"Protego!" Severus roared, erecting a shield in front of Lupin with so much force, the other man crashed into the wall behind, slumping gracelessly to the floor and after sparing only a split-second hope that Lupin wasn't dead, Severus gave up his attempt to match his own magic to Albus'. He stepped forward and with all his strength behind the blow, Severus smashed his fist into the old man's face.

Albus stumbled, giving Severus only a moment. He wasted no time, chanting two spells almost simultaneously, binding the Headmaster with ropes while putting him into as deep a sleep as was possible without killing him. Severus grabbed Albus before he could fall. As the Headmaster's fingers slackened with sleep, the locket slipped to the floor, with a soft chink.

Severus kept his wand trained on the helpless headmaster as he ran his wand swiftly over the locket. It seemed to be pulsing but then just as swiftly, it was still. The thing was dead again.

Wanting to get to Harry, Severus ended the Protego Charm he'd cast and chanted a quick, "Ennervate," toward Lupin. Lupin stirred immediately; Severus felt a quick relief that he was indeed alive. It was short-lived however, as Lupin stared dazedly at him. Losing his patience, Severus barked, "Get over here, Lupin!"

Lupin blinked once before nodding in bewildered acknowledgement. He stood unsteadily and made his way over to Albus' fallen form.

"Is he all right?" Lupin asked hoarsely.

Severus didn't answer as he stepped over to the Floo. Throwing down a pinch of powder, he called for Poppy's quarters before sticking his head through the flames.

Poppy was rushing into her sitting room clutching her dressing gown around her. "What's happened?" she demanded.

"Albus...at Headquarters," was the Potions Master's reply before he drew his head back through, not wanting to waste time. And in the next instant, Poppy was stepping through the flames and hurrying over to Albus.

"What happened to him?" she asked as she waved her wand over his still form. "Why did you bind him?" she demanded, looking sharply at Severus.

"I had to subdue him," Severus told her quickly, ignoring her sputtering. "Heal him, but keep him asleep until I get back," he ordered and though it was not the Mediwitch's custom to take orders from Severus, she nodded briskly.

Severus threw down another pinch of powder, this time calling for Minerva's quarters. He stuck his head through. Minerva stood up from where she had been reading on her sofa.

"Severus?" she inquired sharply.

"Minerva, you are needed at Headquarters," he told her and to her credit, she didn't argue. She simply nodded. Severus pulled his head back through the flames. A moment later, Minerva stepped into the parlor. She gasped when she saw Albus. Severus repeated what he'd told Poppy and then pointed to the locket on the floor.

"I need you to apply a Shadow Charm to it. As strong as you can make it," he told her. She nodded, not even wasting time to demand an explanation.

Toward the locket, Minerva chanted softly, "Umbra Profundus." The locket seemed to shimmer with the words, until it looked as if it had been covered in a hazy fog.

She looked to Severus for confirmation. He nodded and with a quick word, the locket rose into the air as Severus levitated it over to the mantel. "Do not allow anyone to touch it. I will be back shortly."

Minerva simply nodded.

Stepping into the Floo this time, Severus snapped, "Lupin." Without hesitation, Lupin stepped in beside him and Severus couldn't help but wonder at the unusual compliance he'd witnessed tonight. A second later, Severus called for the safe house and then they were being pulled through the Floo Network.

They stepped out sedately into the sitting room of Highlands Cottage. Severus immediately tensed as he saw Harry, leaning bonelessly against the back of the chair, blood trailing from his nose. Harry looked up as they entered and his relief filled Severus. Harry tried to stand, but he didn't finish the motion, his face going stark white. Ignoring Lupin's gasp, Severus took the two steps to the chair and knelt down in front of his son.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked rather pointlessly, Harry thought as it was quite obvious that he wasn't. Harry didn't answer, feeling much too lightheaded. With gentle fingers, his father took his chin in his hands, tilting Harry's head back slightly.

Harry blinked up at Severus, remembering the last time his father had held his chin, marveling a bit at how much things had changed in the past few months. This touch against his face was nothing like the one in Dumbledore's office in September had been, though the fingers were the same--rough and calloused from years of working with Potions.

His father smiled a little, as though he somehow knew what Harry was thinking and Harry could feel the agitation mingled with affection. Waving his wand quickly over Harry's nose, his father chanted softly, "Resarcio." He grimaced as Harry gasped as a new pain bloomed over his face.

"The bones are knitting together," Severus told him as he slipped his wand back into his sleeve. Harry winced as the spell completed its work; it felt as though the bones were grating themselves together. And it hurt.

Harry moved his hand to scrub away the dull ache, but his father caught it, giving Harry's fingers a light squeeze. "Do not touch it. I will give you a Strengthening Potion when we get back to our quarters as well as a Pain Relieving Draught."

Harry groaned a little. "It hurts," he complained, not wanting to wait. His father nodded.

"Yes," he agreed, not without sympathy, as Remus stepped toward them, holding out a cloth. His father took it. "This will hurt as well. Be still." Harry flinched once more as his father brought the damp cloth to his nose, presumably wiping away the blood.

Feeling less woozy now, Harry asked, from underneath the cloth, "What happened?" When Severus didn't answer immediately and Harry could feel the slight indecision, h put his fingers around his father's wrist, stilling the seemingly compulsive movements with the cloth. "What is it?" he asked again, this time with a bit more emphasis. It did the trick; his father, looking surprised, moved his hand away from Harry's nose. He didn't let his chin free however.

He tilted Harry's face again so that Harry was looking him in the eye this time. He considered his handiwork briefly before asking, "Do you remember when you asked me what Albus meant when he spoke of 'all the pieces of Voldemort's soul'?" Harry scrunched up his eyes in thought until the dull ache around his nose made him widen them again.

"A bit."

Harry's chin was set free as his father stood up. He and Remus sat on the couch at almost exactly the same moment and he could feel the faint surprise and irritation from his father as the black eyes flicked quickly toward Remus and back. Harry probably would have laughed if his face hadn't still hurt. As it was, he just sort of looked at them, waiting for his father to tell him about Voldemort. Severus leaned toward Harry and Harry smiled as he felt his father's discomfort and he wondered if the slight shift in his position on the sofa had been intentional.

Severus looked momentarily confused before he started speaking again. "Voldemort found a way to separate some of his soul from his body."

Harry stared at him, not sure he had heard correctly. His father nodded as though to confirm what he'd just said.

"Why?"

"He was attempting to make himself immortal," his father answered simply, as though it made all the sense in the world and Harry supposed, in a way, it did.

"But how will that make him immortal?" he asked, as that part made absolutely no sense.

Severus leaned forward a bit more as he explained, "There is a very ancient form of magic which allows a wizard or witch to place a piece of their soul into another object...a Horcrux."

--

"But that's mad!" Harry finally declared with a shake of his head once the lengthy explanation was concluded. Remus chuckled.

"Of course it is," he agreed with a nod. Harry frowned as he looked between the two men on the sofa.

"So, how many of these Horcruxes are there...besides the diary?" he asked. Severus shook his head.

"Albus is uncertain. We've only found one other."

"And Voldemort can't die until all the Horcruxes are destroyed," Harry repeated what his dad and Remus had just told him. When his father nodded in confirmation, Harry looked uncertainly at Remus.

"Your father and Professor Dumbledore told me that you might be able to take Lily's place as the caster," he assured him. Harry relaxed. It made him feel better somehow that Remus knew everything.

"So, if I can, then we won't need the Horcruxes, yeah?" Harry asked eagerly. His father nodded. In sudden confusion, Harry wondered, "But how are you keeping the Horcruxes if this-whatever happened to Dumbledore-happens every time you find one?"

"It did not happen with the other one," Severus told him. Harry tilted his head in confusion.

"What happened this time, then?"

Both his dad and Remus shook their heads. "I am not certain," Severus answered and Harry could clearly feel his father's regret. He shrugged.

"It's all right," he told his father. Severus didn't look convinced, so Harry leaned forward a bit. "I'm all right," he insisted, realizing the regret had more to do with the way his father had tossed him into the fireplace than about his lack of knowledge about the locket.

"It put you in danger." Scowling, he gestured to Harry's face. "And you broke your nose." Harry smiled at that.

"That wasn't your fault. Floos don't like me," he said with an elaborate shrug. His father pressed his lips together, clearly determined not to smile in front of Remus.

"I am however gratified that you stayed here," he finally said when he had his lips under control. Harry's eyes flicked guiltily to the little box of Floo powder that still lay against the wooden floor. Severus followed his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to Harry.

"You heard me tell you to stay here?" he inquired, not quite as sharply as Harry would have expected.

"Yeah," he admitted, his face heating a bit. "I didn't know how to answer you though," he offered as an excuse. Severus nodded, still frowning at his son.

"We will work on it over the weekend," he promised and Harry was grateful his father hadn't reprimanded him in front of Remus. Of course, he was fairly certain he would as soon as they were alone. As though changing the subject purposely, his father told him, "This was our safe house."

Harry nodded. "I thought so...how did I get here though, without being told the location?" he remembered to ask.

"You've been here before," his father answered. "When you were young. The Magic recognizes you." The idea that he'd been here as a young child, with his parents, as a family, was an unsettling one. His father was watching him, his eyes dark and Harry pushed away his grief, turning to Remus.

Harry looked at his friend speculatively. "Does anyone else know this place exists, besides Remus and Dumbledore?" he asked. His father shook his head.

"No."

"Can I look around before we go...see that book of mum's?" Harry asked eagerly. His father's lips twitched again and feeling guilty, as he knew his father was uncomfortable with such a display in front of Remus, Harry attempted to shadow the flame a bit. His father gave him a little nod. Harry tried not to smile again like a lunatic.

"Boxes with your mother's belongings, as well as James' are in the lab," His father told him, gesturing off to the right as he stood. Harry looked at him in confusion.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I need to speak with Albus." When Harry frowned, Severus added with a pointed look, "I want you to stay here."

"Why?" Harry asked immediately, not liking the implication of that one bit.

"Until we know exactly what happened, I do not want you near Albus," his father said simply. Harry frowned.

"But if it might be dangerous, you shouldn't be near him either," he argued. His father shook his head.

"There is likely little danger. I need to speak with Albus before he returns to Hogwarts," he said firmly.

Harry pushed himself to his feet; he was much steadier than he had been earlier. "If there's no danger, then why can't I go back to Hogwarts?" Harry countered. His father pursed his lips.

"I would rather you stay here."

Before Harry could even open his mouth to argue further, Remus interjected, "I can go, Severus. You stay here with Harry."

Harry turned to scowl at him.

"You think I want you in danger instead? Don't be stupid," he said with more anger than was probably necessary.

"Harry," Severus scolded automatically; both Harry and Remus turned to stare at him. Severus' face stilled instantly, and there was a short pause before he went on and Harry had no trouble identifying his discomfort. "I will go," he told them, his voice tight.

Before Harry had a chance to argue further, he felt the small flame amongst his storm brighten. He could feel his father's calm ease. There is no need to worry, the flame assured him. Harry's eyes widened, startling at the clarity.

"How can you do that, already?" he wondered. His father almost smiled.

"I have had some practice," he answered blithely. Harry smiled despite the little tendrils of fear he was feeling. The flame warmed a bit more; Harry's tension eased again. His father turned to Remus. "Stay here with Harry," he ordered gruffly.

"Of course, Severus."

"I don't need a babysitter," Harry objected, mostly on principal; he didn't mind having Remus staying with him one bit. In answer, his father plucked the Floo powder from the floor, raising his eyebrows slightly. Harry bit his lip, sliding his gaze away.

"I will return shortly," Severus promised, stepping closer to Harry. He rested a light hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry turned his eyes back to his father. He nodded, ignoring his irrational urge to demand his father just stay put. Severus squeezed his shoulder. I will, the flame soothed the chill and Harry nodded.

His father drew his wand and tapped the little box. "Obvium," he commanded. Harry squinted at the box.

"But I tried that exact incantation," he exclaimed.

"How very odd," his father mused as he took a pinch of the powder. The little box closed again before Severus set it back on the mantel. The flame was vibrating with amusement and Harry narrowed his eyes as he watched his father throwing down the powder. Instead of stepping fully in after calling for Grimmauld Place, he stuck only his head in. After a moment, he pulled it out. "Contact me if the need arises," he told Harry, though his gaze included Remus, and after a nod from both of them, Severus stepped into the fireplace.

Harry watched the flames die down before turning to Remus. "Sorry," he offered, embarrassed at his outburst. Remus shook his head.

"Don't worry about it Harry."

"I don't want you to be hurt either though," Harry tried to explain.

"I know, Harry," Remus nodded, smiling at this friend. Harry cocked his head.

"So...are you two friends now?" he asked hesitantly. Remus chuckled.

"Don't let your dad hear you say that," he warned lightly; Harry grinned.

The Floo roared up again and two small vials popped out. Take both, the flame ordered abruptly and Harry laughed. Remus was smiling beside him as Harry picked up both of the vials and downed them. The ache across the middle of his face eased almost instantly.

Still smiling, he turned back to Remus. "Should we go see what we can find?" he asked, almost cheerfully. Remus nodded and Harry led the way into the lab.

--

With a quick wave of Poppy's wand, Albus' eyes fluttered open. The lines in his face wrinkled in confusion.

"How do you feel, Albus?" the Mediwitch asked gently, leaning in toward the Headmaster. Albus blinked a few times, his eyes widening as he tried to move.

"I had to restrain you," Severus informed him as the blue eyes met his gaze. "You were affected somehow, when you took the locket."

Albus frowned. "Where is it?" he asked, his voice raspy.

"Minerva applied the Shadow Charm." Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise. To the silent question, Severus responded, "I did not explain anything." The Headmaster's blue eyes sought Minerva and Poppy.

"Would you give us a moment please?" The witches nodded immediately, moving off toward Poppy's office. Severus erected a quick Silencing Charm before Albus admonished, "You should have asked Remus to do it."

Severus shook his head. "After your reaction to the locket Albus, it seemed unwise to give possession to anyone close to Harry." He had not considered his words; the Headmaster flinched almost imperceptibly. Severus pursed his lips. "In proximity..." he offered uncomfortably. Albus looked away.

Severus stilled the conflicting emotions within him to press, "Do you remember what happened?"

Albus' eyes shifted back. He nodded. "I wouldn't describe it as possession," he mused. "I was aware of myself and what was happening. I felt angrier than I ever have though," he explained slowly, shaking his head, looking a bit dazed. "I had to have the locket."

Severus nodded. "You attempted to attack Remus when he tried to take it from you," he informed the Headmaster. Albus frowned.

"Is he all right?" he asked worriedly.

"He is."

"Minerva did not have a similar experience?" Albus asked after a moment.

"She did not."

"Something to do with my having possession of both of them, then," Albus decided as he nodded firmly to himself.

"Possibly," Severus agreed. Glancing over the Headmaster's still form, he queried, "Do you feel in control again?" When the older man nodded, Severus ended the Restraining Spell.

He eased the Headmaster into a sitting position and Severus was struck by how brittle the other man was; he seemed so weary. With a compassion that he had rarely ever felt, Severus said quietly, "I told Harry that you did not know how badly he had been treated by the Dursleys." Albus' blue eyes flashed up. Severus looked away. "I explained that you did not intend to hurt him," he added stiffly.

"Severus..." the Headmaster murmured softly. Severus turned abruptly back to him.

"Could you feel Voldemort at all?" he spoke over the Headmaster. Albus closed his mouth, his blue eyes suddenly dancing. With a start, Severus realized that it was the first time in many weeks that he'd seen the Headmaster's eyes so light. He did his best to ignore the other man's mood as he waited for an answer.

"No, I don't think Voldemort was aware at all of what happened, Severus," Albus finally told him, smiling fully now. Severus scowled at him.

"This is hardly an occasion for happiness, Albus," he scathed. Albus didn't stop smiling, though he did shake his head.

"But it is, Severus," he disagreed. "We are so much closer now."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I need to return to Harry," he informed the Headmaster. Albus nodded once again.

"Before you go, Severus..." he held up a hand and Severus paused as he was about to stand, "...I had wanted to speak with you before we came here, but Kingsley brought Lucius unexpectedly. I spoke with Stephen this morning." Severus' lips pressed together in agitation, though it was an involuntary gesture.

Knowing perfectly well that the conversation with Pinth had involved Veritaserum, he asked impatiently, "And?"

Albus shook his head. "It is as I expected. He has no connection to Voldemort nor does he wish to. He is simply a bully," the Headmaster told him sadly.

The information did not surprise Severus; he'd watched Pinth tormenting other students for years and nothing Severus had ever done had encouraged him to stop. It had never helped that Pinth's father had shown an almost sadistic pride in his offspring's taunting. But the seventh year was also a coward.

"He has been warned to stay away from Harry, under threat of expulsion," Albus told him, his voice hardening a little and again Severus marveled at how many people cared for his son...though he understood now why they did. How could one who knew him, help but be endeared to Harry?

"And Argus?" Severus asked roughly, both grateful he'd allowed Albus to deal with the Squib, and wishing he would have simply broken Argus' neck, as had been his first inclination.

"He will not touch Harry again," Albus promised firmly.

"He had better not," was all Severus had to say to that, knowing he would not restrain himself again, no matter that it would be a terrible example to his son. Albus nodded his understanding. Severus inclined his head shortly. "Have you had any success with the Charm?" It was with a mix of relief and trepidation that he watched Albus frown.

"Not yet, Severus." He narrowed his blue eyes a little. "We may never be able to know for certain," he told him, his voice almost a plea. Severus ignored it.

"Then we will simply need to keep looking for the Horcruxes," he informed Albus icily. Not waiting for the Headmaster to respond, he said, "We will need to bring Minerva in on this and likely others, as well." Albus nodded resignedly. Severus nodded shortly, standing up. He called for Poppy and when she and Minerva re-entered the room, Severus stepped back through the Floo, leaving the Headmaster to their care.

1981

“Harry Snape!”

Severus looked up just as he was about to place the small vial of Stomach Calming Draught onto the correct shelf in his storage cupboard at their newly secured Highlands Cottage. Fighting the urge to smile at his wife’s exasperated tone, he walked into the parlour, still holding the vial. Lily looked up from where she was standing over their son; Harry was covered from head to toe in glittery, green Floo Powder. And instead of looking forlorn at his mother’s stern demeanor, he was grinning impishly up at her.

Lily shook her head, pursing her lips and Severus knew she was trying not to laugh at the little boy’s antics. Harry looked up to see what his mother was looking at and his smile widened; even his teeth were filled with the sooty powder.

“Daddy!” the little boy cried happily, holding up the little—now empty—box of Floo Powder for Severus’ inspection. Severus attempted to direct a frown toward his little miscreant, but his lips wouldn’t obey.

“What happened?” he asked, turning his gaze back to his wife. Lily sighed, putting her hands on her hips.

“He’s been wanting that since we got here,” she told him, pointing to the box.

“Bah,” Harry explained happily, waving his trophy in the air. Severus fought down another smile. He took a few more steps toward his son. He crouched down and with a wave of his wand, the spilled Floo Powder was Vanished away. A quick Charm took care of the Powder ground into Harry’s teeth. Severus shook his head in amusement at his son. He scooped him up as he stood back up.

“You, my son, are entirely too precocious for your own good,” Severus informed him seriously. Harry just smiled at him as he pulled the little box into his chest.

“Sev, this entire house needs to be Harry-proofed,” Lily told him, smiling a little. Severus nodded in agreement.

“I’ve finished with the Potions. I will attend to it,” he assured her, but Lily shook her head.

“I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you take Harry outside? James is already out there—on his broom,” she smirked. Severus shook his head. The other man was so childish sometimes.

“Would you like to go outside, Harry?” Severus inquired, smoothing his little boy’s fringe out of his face. Harry nodded, still grinning and then his face fell as Lily plucked the empty box from his fingers. His lower lip began to quiver; he reached out for the box.

“Bahhhh,” he cried, tears filling his previously mischievous green eyes. Lily shook her head at her son.

“No, Harry,” she said firmly. “Go outside with Daddy, sweetie,” she soothed. Harry began to cry in earnest.

Casting a quick Charm over the vial he was still holding so that it couldn’t break, Severus then jiggled it in front of Harry’s scrunched face. The bright liquid attracted his son’s attention immediately; his lips formed a delighted O as he grasped it in his chubby little fingers.

Lily smiled as she stood on her toes to give Severus a kiss on his cheek while she ruffled Harry’s dark hair. Severus smiled a little at her, enjoying the feeling of her delight in his care for their son.

“Both of you, shoo,” she ordered, giving Severus a light shove toward the door. Severus turned his gaze to Harry, raising his eyebrow.

“We best do as we’re told, then, Harry,” he said gravely as he moved away from the fireplace and Harry giggled up at him, shaking his new vial with enthusiasm.

“Don’t forget his jacket, Sev,” Lily called as she fiddled with the box. Severus, with a quick wave of his wand, transferred Harry’s jacket from the hook next to the door onto the little boy. Harry took no notice as he continued to talk to his vial.

As soon as they stepped out the door, James swooped down from where he was circling around the house.

“Harry!” he called and Harry looked up, startled. But then his face melted into a grin and he squealed in delight as he watched James’ maneuvering his broom so that he was tumbling over himself above their heads. James grinned in response before heading back to the earth, braking just before he would have crashed into them. Severus frowned at him.

“You are going to break your neck on that thing,” he disapproved. James scowled at him.

“Thing?” he echoed in outrage. “This is the finest broom ever made, and well you know it, Severus!” He ignored Severus’ deepening frown to ask Harry, “Wanna ride?”

Severus pulled Harry into his chest. “Certainly not,” he refused, appalled at James’ audacity. James rolled his eyes. “I won’t do any flips,” he promised.

“No,” Severus said firmly.

“Come on, Severus, I’ll go really slow,” James wheedled.

“James,” Severus warned, which prompted the other man to hop off his broom.

“All right, then. You take him,” he suggested, his face splitting into a huge grin. Severus stared at him.

“Have you lost your mind?” he demanded.

“Oh, come on, Sev. Harry will love it,” Lily’s voice interjected. Severus turned to the door, where Lily had come to watch. She smiled at him, her emerald eyes bright. She looked almost eager and as he was well aware how much she enjoyed flying, he nodded. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know how to fly one of the horrid contraptions; he just wasn’t particularly fond of heights…

Ignoring James' smirk, Severus took the broom from his hand and settled himself on it, Harry still tucked into his chest. “Shall we fly, Harry?” he asked his son. Harry tried to clap his hands in excitement, though the vial thwarted his efforts. Severus nodded solemnly and with a gentle tug on the broom handle, he and Harry took off from the ground.

“Uhhh,” Harry cried, delighted as they moved away from the ground. Severus smiled.

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

1996

Harry fiddled with the corner of one the boxes as he sat next to it, not yet ready to open it. Remus was watching him and after a few minutes of silence, Harry asked, “What was the other Horcrux that Dumbledore found?” When Remus hesitated, Harry turned to look at his friend. “Remus,” he shook his head, “there really isn’t any reason for secrets anymore.” Remus sighed.

“It was a cup…Tonks and Moody retrieved it,” he revealed. Harry looked at him in confusion.

“But then, what were you doing with Dumbledore when you got hurt?” he wanted to know. Remus hesitated again. Harry huffed impatiently. “Just tell me, Remus,” he insisted. Remus gave him a look of slight disapproval at his tone but instead of backing down, Harry folded his arms across his chest and waited. He was tired of being treated like a child.

“We were looking for the locket,” Remus answered him after a silent minute, his voice distinctly uncomfortable and Harry gazed at him, wondering if perhaps he didn’t want to talk about what had obviously been a traumatic experience.

“Is Dumbledore still looking for them, then?” he asked finally, deciding not to pursue whatever had happened to Remus. Remus nodded, relaxing a little. Harry considered that before sighing. “Is he close to finding any of them?”

“He has some leads, but nothing definite…it’s been like piecing together a puzzle…an extremely complex puzzle,” Remus stressed. Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“Won’t they be almost impossible to find, though, especially if Voldemort hid them?”

“Not impossible,” Remus corrected, “but yes it has been a challenge.”

Harry sighed. “It would just be easier to try the Charm,” he decided, “rather than running around trying to find every little bit of Voldemort.”

“Harry, we don’t even know if it would work,” Remus told him, shaking his head a little.

“We might never know, Dumbledore said,” Harry countered and Remus shrugged a little, though Harry could tell that the gesture was for his benefit only. He latched on to it. “You think we should try the Charm as well, don’t you?” he asked eagerly.

“I think, Harry, that you should let your father do what he thinks is best,” was Remus’ pointed reply.

Harry just stopped himself from pointing out that that was exactly what had caused the problem in the first place…his father’s decision to wait to activate the Charm. But then, as he realized that if he was indeed the one who could activate the Charm, an attempt seventeen years ago would have failed anyway. He let his shoulders sag.

“I think he’s in denial though, Remus,” he sighed. “Even without the Charm, I’m still going to have to face Voldemort.”

“I am not in denial,” came the deep and unexpected reply. Harry and Remus spun around. Harry gaped at his father. Severus narrowed his eyes a bit as he said firmly, his voice holding a trace of a rebuke, “I am well aware that you will have to face Voldemort, Harry.” Harry could clearly feel his father’s offense.

Harry bit his lip, but before he could say anything, Remus spoke up, “I should get back to Hogwarts.”

Severus slid his eyes from Harry’s as he pointed to a lone box away from the rest. “James’ possessions; take them,” he said curtly and Harry almost flinched at the harsh tone. Remus’ eyes widened slightly.

“Are you certain you don’t want them, Severus?” he asked slowly.

Severus’ mouth stretched until it was almost a sneer. “No doubt James would want you to have them.” Harry stared at his father, wondering if it was hurt he was feeling from his father’s flame but the flame had dimmed in the last minute so he couldn’t be certain. Remus was also staring, his eyes distinctly sad.

“Perhaps you’d like to have a look before-”

Severus’ irritation was unmistakable then and before he could snap at Remus, Harry intervened, “I’d like to see James’ things.” Neither his father nor Remus answered as Harry looked between them. “I’ll bring them to you in class on Monday, all right?” he asked. Remus finally nodded.

“Of course, Harry,” he said softly. Harry nodded quickly, still perched on the floor, his elbow now leaning against his mum’s box as he watched the two men. Remus smiled down at him. “Good night.” He pivoted a bit to face Severus. “Good night, Severus,” he offered and Severus nodded smoothly, as though he hadn’t been affected at all by the exchange.

Harry watched his friend leaving and then he and Severus were silent as they listened to the Floo flaring up and dying down again. Hoping for a nice fresh subject, Harry asked, “How can Remus open the Floo Powder?” His father looked down at him, as though he’d been startled out of his thoughts.

"Your mother put a Charm on it which only allows a wizard who is of age to open it," he answered, taking a few steps toward Harry and sitting quietly on the rollaway bed next to where Harry sat on the floor.

"Oh," was Harry's response, forgetting to be amused, or perhaps annoyed at that development. Harry considered his next question carefully, nervous about his father’s mood. “Did you sleep in here?” he ventured, gesturing to the rollaway bed.

“I did,” he nodded, his eyes quiet. Harry shifted his hip so the corner of the box no longer dug into it.

“Are you going over your lecture in your head?” he asked curiously after another minute had passed. He could feel his father’s surprise. Severus shook his head, his lips quirking.

“I would not call it a lecture,” he returned. Harry waited. Severus leaned forward and took his chin. He moved his face back and forth slowly, examining Harry’s nose again. “Any pain?” he asked.

“No, it’s all right now,” Harry told him. “Thanks for the Potions.” His dad nodded, and then moved his other hand up to tap gently around Harry’s nose, the movements precise and extremely gentle and Harry could feel the flame flickering with guilt. Realizing now that his father was oversensitive because of Tobias, Harry said quietly, “You didn’t hurt me.” His father frowned down at him.

“I should have been more careful.”

“You were trying to keep me out of danger,” Harry told him reasonably. His father raised an eyebrow.

“If you realized that, then why did you try to return?”

Harry shrugged, feeling less nervous about the question then maybe he ought to. “I didn’t know what was happening to you,” he explained. “I couldn’t just sit here if I could help.” Severus shook his head, his jaw set.

“I have told you before, Harry, that you cannot always help. There was nothing you could have done tonight,” he insisted as he leaned forward so that his eyes were locked with Harry’s. “There may be other instances in the future that you will need to simply obey my instructions, no matter how much you do not want to,” he continued and Harry wanted to look away as he was quietly scolded, but his father still held his chin and he seemed disinclined to let him go.

“I don’t think I can do that,” he protested softly. His father’s eyes narrowed.

“I am not merely making a suggestion to you, Harry,” he said, his tone darkening. He leaned in a little more. “You will not disregard my instructions again.” Severus was piercing him with a look of such black intensity that Harry found himself nodding and he realized, almost meaning it. Almost. Sensing his indecision, his father said sternly, “I want your word, Harry.”

His father held his gaze and squirming slightly, Harry finally deflated a little. It was pointless to protest. His dad could always out-glare him. “All right,” he finally agreed. Satisfied, his father nodded and dropped his fingers and gestured toward the box on the floor.

“Do you still want to find your mother’s book?” he asked. Harry turned to the box, grateful for the change of subject. His stomach danced as he lifted the lid.

Interwoven Bodily Charms of the Fifteenth Century, the same book Hermione had gotten from Flitwick, was on right on top. His mum’s book. Harry picked it up, reveling in the fact that his mum had touched this book once. He glanced up at his father. His eyes were warmer now, a small smile resting on his lips. Harry smiled in return before setting the book on the floor and turning back to the box. He lifted out a few other books, giving their titles only cursory glances.

There were photos under the little stack of books and Harry eagerly pulled them out. His heart clutched in his chest. Sirius was smiling out at him, his arms lightly bouncing a laughing Harry; the little boy’s fist was tangled up in Sirius’ long hair. Immediately Harry began to shadow the flame in his mind, but his father’s voice stopped him.

“There is no need to hide your grief, Harry,” he said quietly, though his voice was firm. “I know how much Black meant to you.” Harry didn’t look up, but he did leave the flame alone as he flipped to the next picture. He smiled.

His mum was holding him now, though he was much younger than he had been in the picture with Sirius. His mum was grasping his wrist and waving it at the camera, her lips moving. Harry squinted, trying to decipher what she was saying.

“Hi Daddy.”

Harry looked up quickly at his father's interjection. Severus was watching him, his eyes still filled with warmth, though the mirth was unmistakable as well.

“You remember that?” Harry asked, his voice coming out with a bit of a tremor in it. Severus nodded. Harry turned back to his pictures, putting his mum in the back of the pile. He laughed.

His father’s face and shirt were dotted with orange, his face scrunching as Harry’s baby self flung a spoonful of purred something at him, his lips parted in delight.

“You look good in orange,” Harry told his father, who shook his head.

“You hated carrots,” he said seriously.

“I still do,” Harry agreed. After a hesitant pause, he asked, “Can I have these?” His father nodded.

Harry continued to flip through the photos, smiling as he found himself engaged in various mischievous acts; he could feel his father’s mirth as well and Harry felt incredibly happy sitting there, going through his mums’ things. After he finally set the pictures aside, he dug through the rest of the box. A glint of light caught his eye. He peered down, his eyes widening in surprise at what he saw--a diamond ring.

Harry quickly pulled the ring up and almost as soon as it had cleared the box, his father reached over and plucked it from Harry’s fingers.

Harry blinked up at him, feeling both surprised and uncertain. “Was it mum’s?” he asked quietly. Seeming lost in his thoughts, it took a moment for his father to nod as he nudged the gem with his thumbnail.

“I had no idea Albus had saved this…” he mused.

“You didn’t put this stuff in here?” Harry asked and Severus turned his gaze down again toward Harry.

“Albus brought the boxes here,” he explained. “I only got as far as Filius’ book…” he trailed off and Harry could feel his father’s grief as his fingers curled over Lily’s ring.

Severus stood abruptly. “Did you go upstairs?” he asked, as he placed the ring in one of his pockets. When Harry shook his head, his father inquired, “Would you like to?” Harry nodded eagerly. Severus reached a hand down and when Harry accepted it, his father pulled him up. He followed him as he led the way.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Severus pointed to one of the closed doors. “Your room,” he explained.

Harry hesitated. “Can I go in?” he asked. His father stepped past him and opened the door. Harry walked in slowly. He stared at the cot. “It’s awfully small,” he told his father critically.

“So were you,” Severus returned lightly. Harry smiled. It was hard to believe he’d ever been that small. He took the few steps over to the cot, reaching over the bars to pluck a soft lion from the mattress.

“James gave that to you,” Severus told him. Harry looked up in surprise.

“Did we come here often?” he asked, but his father shook his head.

“You only came once. We took a holiday here shortly after it was constructed,” he explained. “I took you flying,” he added. Harry stared at him.

“You?”

“I do know how to fly a broom.  You have seen me, in fact,” Severus informed him, almost haughtily and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. His father raised an eyebrow. “I can feel your amusement, you realize.”

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly, finally unable to still his lips. “It’s just hard to picture you riding a broom for fun,” he smirked.

“Yes, very amusing,” his father drawled laconically.

“It is,” Harry insisted, still grinning and then his face fell as Severus winced slightly and reached to put his palm over his left arm. Harry’s eyes crinkled with concern. “The Mark?” he guessed. Severus nodded. “Does it hurt?” he asked anxiously. Severus shook his head.

“It is only a slight discomfort. It will not last long,” he assured Harry as he turned slightly away. Harry frowned in thought.

“Didn’t Voldemort just call his Death Eaters two days ago?” he questioned, though he already knew the answer.

“He did,” his father answered, his voice tight. Harry tensed.

“Do you think Voldemort sensed something tonight? Maybe he could feel my scar burning.”

Severus spun around, startling Harry. “Your scar hurt?” he repeated sharply. Harry stared at him in confusion.

“Er, yeah, didn’t you-” but his father cut him off.

“When did it start?” he questioned, his voice very harsh.

“Just before you threw me into the Floo,” Harry answered slowly, unnerved by his father’s tone.

“When did it stop?” Severus rapped out next. Harry furrowed his brow.

“I’m not sure. I only noticed it had stopped after I finally got up off the floor,” he shrugged. Severus was staring at him and Harry's skin prickled against the wash of anxiety he felt. “What does it mean?” There was a long pause.

“I do not know that it means anything," his father finally murmured. "The Horcrux affected Albus in a way that we could not have anticipated. I had not realized it had affected you as well.”

“But I thought that’s why you sent me away,” Harry told him, bewildered. His father shook his head.

“I was concerned that Albus would try to hurt you,” he explained. Harry found himself twisting his fingers in the cuff of his shirt.

“So, you do think Voldemort felt something, then?”

Severus stepped forward, his fingers moving to brush Harry’s fringe aside, his eyes filled with sadness as he traced his thumb over Harry’s scar. Then abruptly, his father dropped his hand. “As the pain stopped when you were away from the Horcrux, it was likely not Voldemort trying to make a connection with you,” he decided logically.

“But what if it was?” Harry pressed. His father shook his head again.

“Was your mind Occluded?” he inquired, his voice sounding much more normal again. Harry nodded immediately.

“Of course it was,” he answered, slightly indignant at the question.

“There is nothing to worry about then,” his father said reasonably. Turning toward the door, he asked, “Would you like to see James’ room?” Harry forgot all about his scar as they continued their explorations.

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

Although Harry knew his confinement to their quarters was supposed to have been a punishment, it was difficult to think of it in that way. Once Harry had completed his assignments, which somehow seemed to take much less time without Ron around, he and his father spent the rest of Saturday either practicing with their connection or brewing together and Harry was beginning to find…well, enjoyment in the activity.

Harry hadn’t had any success yet though in his attempts to project his storm outward to communicate with his father. His father, on the other hand, was enjoying the connection immensely. Harry was getting ready to go up to the Great Hall for dinner, when his father’s flame fired against his storm. Put on something warm, it nudged him. Harry rolled his eyes, but grabbed a sweatshirt anyway before heading out of his room again.

As he strolled back into the sitting room where his father was waiting near the door, he smirked, “Ginny was right; you do sound like Mrs. Weasley.” His father raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you really think it wise to insult the person who is about to take you to see your friends?” Harry pretended to consider that.

“Probably not,” he finally shrugged, still smiling.

“Indeed," his father approved, keeping his face quite serious even as Harry felt his amusement.

They walked side by side through the dank corridors in a companionable silence until they neared the level of the dungeons near the Slytherin dormitory. “How are the Slytherins doing now?” Harry asked, referring back to a discussion they’d had before he and Severus had returned to classes.

“The older students have yet to adjust,” his father told him. “The younger Slytherins are more malleable and they are also still eager to please. There has been little trouble amongst them.”

“Are you sure you’re safe being around them?” Harry repeated the same question he’d already asked several times over the course of the past weeks. And again, his father nodded.

“The Slytherins find me just as intimidating as the rest of the Houses do,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk. Harry glanced up at him, thinking of the times when he’d had the same thoughts about the dreaded Potions Master. And again, Harry marveled at the change—in both of them.

“Well, be careful, all the same,” he said anyway, just as he had before.

“I will, Harry,” his father assured him.

There was a group of first and second years gathered around the entrance to the Slytherin common room, chattering noisily. One of them spotted their Head of House coming upon them. He quieted instantly, and almost as one force, the little group stopped talking, watching Severus nervously.

“Good evening, Professor,” one of them squeaked out, as though worried she’d be reprimanded for her silence. And then as her eyes moved over to Harry, she smiled shyly. Harry smiled in return.

“Ms. Jones,” Severus nodded at the girl, slowing a bit though he didn’t stop completely.

“Hi,” Harry offered and the little clutch of students stared at him in awe. The one called Ms. Jones stepped forward and looked up at Harry, her eyes full of curiosity. Harry and Severus halted.

“Are you still Harry Potter?” she asked boldly, her neck craning at a ridiculous angle so that she could look up at him. Harry crouched down before he really had a chance to think about the motion. He nodded solemnly at her.

“Yep.”

She squinted her brown eyes a little. “But shouldn’t you be Harry Snape now…if Professor Snape is your father?” she inquired, her voice full of childish concern. Harry tried not to laugh, glancing quickly up at his father. He was watching the interaction, almost warily.

“Good point,” Harry agreed. She smiled at him again.

“I’m Felicity Jones,” she told him and Harry grinned.

“Harry Snape,” he returned. The little girl giggled.

The other students were mostly looking nervously between their Professor and Harry, though a few were trying out tentative smiles in Harry’s direction. He could feel his father’s surprise and then immediately anger. Harry looked up. Filch was coming toward them and without pausing, Harry stood up.

Filch hesitated, looking straight at Harry and Severus. He took one careful step toward them and then they watched in fascination as Filch, as if he was being hefted by an invisible Hagrid, was slowly lifted up off the floor, his toes arching downward, frantically trying to keep in contact with the stones; it was a fruitless effort. The invisible force continued to lift the caretaker.

“What’s this?” he bawled and then he cried out in pain as Mrs. Norris began clawing wildly against his shoulder and neck in terror. The Slytherins all stared, watching intently as Filch was pulled in a wide circle around Harry and Severus, his arms flapping wildly as he squawked. “Let me down! Let me go!” he demanded but whatever had him in its grasp paid no attention until there was a wide berth between him and Harry and then Filch was dumped unceremoniously on the floor.

Laughter broke out among the delighted Slytherins, pointing and chortling as the caretaker spluttered. Mrs. Norris hissed indignantly at them while Filch struggled back to his feet, glaring around at the students. But as soon as his gaze fell on Harry again, he stiffened and without wasting another moment, he gathered Mrs. Norris in his arms and hurried away, his head swinging about as he ran and it was obvious that he trying to make sure nothing was chasing him.

“What the-” Harry began but his father’s flame interrupted him, not in front of the children, Harry. Harry closed his mouth immediately. The young Slytherins were sill laughing at Filch. Severus frowned down at them.

“All of you move along to the Great Hall,” he commanded and the chattering ceased instantly. There was a few quick, “Yes sirs” as the students scurried away. Felicity spared a quick little wave and once Harry had waved back, she followed her friends.

“Maybe we should just get rid of all the upper level students,” he said to his father as they continued on their way, only half-joking. His father glanced over at him.

“You are surprised at Ms. Jones’ attitude toward you,” he noted. Harry shrugged.

“It’s hard to realize that not all Slytherins are pureblood-crazed fans of Voldemort,” he answered.

“Very few Slytherins are loyal to Voldemort,” his father told him quietly, “and not all Slytherins are Purebloods.”

“I know,” Harry nodded, feeling stupid for thinking that way, although really he had never even considered that all Slytherins were not necessarily purebloods.

“Ms. Jones’ mother is a Muggle,” Severus added. Harry frowned as he took that in.

“That must be hard though, isn’t it?” he asked. He was surprised when his father shook his head.

“You would be surprised at how cohesive a group Slytherin is,” he informed him, “It is very rare to find the students fighting amongst themselves.”

“Because they’re sticking together against the unfair treatment?” Harry asked, remembering another conversation they’d had like this. His father nodded, his jaw stiff. Steering them away from a past that still haunted his father, Harry said lightly, “Felicity did have a good point though.” And again he felt his father’s surprise.

“Hmm,” was the murmured response. Harry smiled as he heard the restrained enthusiasm in his voice.

“You are my father,” he pointed out.

“Excellent observation, Harry,” his father drawled. Harry nodded.

“I know,” he agreed, “and you said yourself that this only concerns us,” he continued.

“I did,” Severus nodded and Harry almost laughed at his father’s innocent answer.

“Good. So then, how soon can you contact someone about changing my name?” he asked. His father stopped walking; he gazed down at Harry, his lips pressed together as he tried to still their movements.

“Devious,” he commented.

“I can’t help it,” Harry shrugged. “You bring out the Slytherin in me.” Severus’ lips curved slowly into a smile, his eyes glinting with mirth. "And you didn't answer me," he told him pointedly. His father shook his head, clearly still amused.

“I will look into it,” he agreed after a moment, turning again. Harry grinned as they moved on, only a few meters from the Potions classroom now.

Harry noticed the blond hair rounding the corner just as his father called sharply, “Mr. Malfoy!” Malfoy’s spine stiffened and he looked as though he might try to run but after a pause, he turned around, looking decidedly nonchalant.

Severus took quick steps toward Malfoy. Malfoy’s arms were dangling down by his sides as though he hadn’t a care, but Harry could see that his hands were trembling. “You should be in the Great Hall,” Severus told him, his mind filled with suspicion and Harry narrowed his own eyes in response.

“I was just on my way,” Malfoy assured him, nodding his head. Severus glared down at him.

“The Great Hall is in the other direction, Mr. Malfoy,” he informed him icily. “And you’ve been told repeatedly not to go anywhere alone.”

“I got separated from my friends,” Malfoy informed him coolly.

“You are a dreadful liar, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus returned, with a scowl. Malfoy narrowed his eyes.