In the space of a second, Shadow tried to engrave the scene in front of him in his memory: the pained and resigned face of Dumbledore, who suddenly appeared ten years older; the anxious, guilty one of McGonagall, who seemed to hesitate from holding the Potions master back; and Poppy Pomfrey, both indignant and despairing as she watched her patient go. All three of them seemed so sad and lost that Harry would've liked to be able to comfort them…but he didn't have the chance. An instant afterward, the flash of green flames blurred his vision, and the familiar décor of the Manor laboratory replaced that of Hogwarts.

He'd not thought to be back here so soon, but it felt good, he thought, like coming home. If the circumstances of their return had been less dramatic, he would've been perfectly happy.

What was unusual, though, was the way Snape stumbled on the dungeon floor, almost making his passenger fall from his shoulder. The cat jumped carefully to the ground; Floo powder usually deposited him rather abruptly, but Severus? It was truly the first time he'd seen the wizard make such an undignified entry.

His features taut, Snape got himself to rights and rapidly lifted a shaky hand toward the fireplace, flicking his wand in a series of gestures that Harry didn't recognize, but of which he quickly guessed the significance: the Potions master was readjusting the Floo wards so no one could enter the Manor—Dumbledore first and foremost, probably. That didn't bode well. This time, Snape was truly furious, and exhausted, Harry noted, watching the professor stagger forward and fall heavily into his armchair. His breathing raspy, his head thrown back, the professor seemed to be having a hard time regaining his dignity and composure. Obviously, the spectacular exit from Hogwarts, and his little performance, had depleted his strength. It was probably only the rage consuming him that had enabled him to get this far.

Shadow worriedly padded closer. Was this the time to comfort the Man In Black? Or was…. Severus' haunted eyes settled on him, piercing without seeming to see him. Unable to resist any longer, Harry transformed.

"Professor? Are you all right?"

A groan answered him, Snape grabbing his head in his hands, as if seized by a violent headache. This was a bad dream…he'd not really awakened.

Shadow. Harry. Potter. He'd followed him, of course. Shadow. Harry. Always there when there was trouble, always ready to throw himself headfirst into the fray. And Snape hadn't been able to stop him. He'd not been able to stop anything, once again. And now here he was in front of him, asking him….

"Potter!" he hissed, before the boy's wounded expression made Snape catch himself. "Harry. It always has to be you, doesn't it?"

He watched the boy give a start, clearly not knowing what to expect. Snape went on, unable to extract the venom from his words. In spite of their recent complicity, the episode with the Pensieve still remained fresh and painful between them….but he couldn't do anything about that, nor about the rage boiling inside him at that moment.

"Always in the wrong place at the wrong time," he ground out. "And preferably in my memories. Is there a rational reason for that, Mister Potter?"

"It wasn't what I wanted," the boy protested. "I went to get you out of there; you weren't waking up. Voldemort…"

"I'm perfectly aware of the Dark Lord's role in that affair, thank you," Snape said dryly. "And might I know what possessed you to defy him again? You really believe you're more powerful than he is, don't you?"

Harry flinched at the attack. That tone of voice, those words. It was Professor Snape again. Surely they couldn't have regressed so far?

"But I am, I mean, for now. You said it yourself: he's been weakened, I took his powers!"

"Stronger powers mean nothing as long as you don't know how to use them!" Severus bellowed. "Do you have the slightest idea of what Voldemort is prepared to do, of the dark magic he's ready to use without the slightest of scruples to achieve his ends? He's not even truly alive! What do you think he has to lose? After what he's done to you, how can you still pretend that all this is nothing but an amusing joke?"

"I don't think that!" Harry quickly protested. "I didn't do it to amuse myself; I've never done it to amuse myself! I just wanted to help you. Dumbledore agreed it was the only solution."

"Dumbledore," Snape growled, "who else? The person without whom none of this would've happened. The one who sent a twelve-year-old to fight a basilisk in the bowels of Hogwarts. A lovely recommendation. I'd really like to know how I'm supposed to protect you when that old fool insists on throwing you repeatedly into the lion's den!"

"It was to help you! I didn't want…" Harry hesitated. How was he supposed to say this?

"To violate my private life?" Severus suggested acerbically. "Loot through my memories one more time?"

"It was to save you," Harry repeated, dismayed by the turn the conversation had taken. He'd not expected for Severus to be happy that he'd been there for those scenes pulled form the quagmire of his memory, but for him to be so furious…. "When I slept next to you in my cat form, I dreamt of that place, of the storm, of you," he explained. The look Snape shot him at these words chilled him to the bone, but he went on.

"It worked the first time. I was able to push the wind away, I mean, Voldemort. So I thought if I really tried, I could get you out of there. I didn't know it was…your memories."

This time, Harry couldn't help looking down at the floor. He could sense the waves of anger coming off of Snape, just a few feet away.

"And at no time did you think of doing an about-face, did you?" he asked gravely.

"I…no," Harry answered. "I wanted to finish what I'd come for. I couldn't leave you, but I didn't know how to do it; it was only after a while that the memories started to follow…um…my thoughts." Seen that way, he was forced to realize that the situation wasn't good. At least not from the point of view of someone as protective of his private life as Severus.

"It seems to me that you made a promise, Mister Potter," Snape began again. "A promise concerning precisely this sort of intrusion into my thoughts."

"Professor, I'm really sorry, but I didn't have a choice!"

"No choice!" Severus burst out again. "No choice about deliberately putting yourself in danger, of intentionally entering my memory, of once again confronting the Dark Lord without any protection?"

The professor leapt from his armchair, coming to seize the boy by the shoulders and shaking him violently. "You must not put yourself in danger that way, is that clear? What must I do to get this notion through your thick skull? You're just a child who doesn't control his powers, and who hasn't the least idea of what he's facing! You're continually rushing headlong into situations, one more catastrophic than the other, before thinking for a single instant!"

"But I did think!" Harry protested, trying to escape from the professor's grasp. "I knew what I was doing; I had to do it, I couldn't leave you! And I wasn't alone—Dumbledore, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were there!"

"You're reckless!" Snape roared. "Did you have the slightest idea of how you were going to go about it? Of how you were going to escape if things turned out badly?"

"I…no," the boy admitted, a bit ashamed now. "I just wanted to bring you back."

Harry seemed so pitiful at that instant, his eyes so pleading, that Snape felt his rage evaporate, leaving him again without enough strength to support himself. Mustering all the dignity he could find, he fell into his chair again. Merlin, he was so tired…but the boy…he didn't want to think about him now.

"Go away, Harry. Leave me."

The young man looked at him in defeat. No, he couldn't ask him to do that, not now. He wanted to stay with him, the Man In Black, and make sure he'd be all right. All around Harry, the laboratory started to spin. The Manor. He'd almost got to the point where he considered it his home, really, but he'd always known that he'd end up pushing Severus too far, that the Potions master would finally realize that Harry didn't deserve to stay here and would send him away. He looked up gloomily at the fireplace, which now seemed to embody a sinister condemnation. Once he left, he surely could never come back again…

But before he could take a step, the professor's worn-out voice spoke again.

"Go up to your room, or rather go make yourself something to eat; you must've missed at least one meal. Do what you want, Harry, but leave for now. I need to be alone."

Relief spread through the boy. He wasn't being exiled. Severus just wanted a bit of peace to recover and rest. Harry wasn't happy about that, but he could understand it. If only he could've made the Potions master understand…

"Professor, I'm sorry for… Well, I didn't want to intrude on your memories, I was just trying to find a way to stop Voldemort from holding you prisoner. I'm sorry for…" He gave a vague wave of his hand.

"Harry, we'll talk about it later," Severus said, clearly at the end of his strength. "Do what I ask. For Merlin's sake, do what I ask for once!"

Resigned, Harry gave in and headed for the stairway. He gently closed the heavy wooden door behind him, and shuffled along to the kitchen. He was barely hungry, but for lack of anything else, making something to eat occupied his mind. He didn't know what would happen, once Severus had time to think. Everything had happened so quickly—his decision to follow the professor had been simple, and now Snape himself didn't seem to want him here. Maybe if he stayed in his cat form?

He sighed. Thinking of Shadow had made him want fish.

***

The Potions master listened as the boy's footsteps faded. Harry. Merlin, what was he going to do with him? The boy had once again pulled Severus out of the Dark Lord's clutches, and in so doing, had risked his life. He'd literally gone to hell and back to come and look for him. And at this moment, the boy's loyalty terrified him.

Whatever he imagined, whatever he anticipated, reality always managed to prove that he'd not foreseen the worst. Harry had gambled his life and soul to save him, while it was Severus, his professor and mentor, who was supposed to be taking care of him. He'd been wrong—he wasn't a buffer between the boy and the Dark Lord. On the contrary, he was just another danger, a target. He should've never let Harry become attached to him. It'd been absurd, and a grave strategic error from the start.

But so far as the boy was concerned, his judgment had been severely affected…and strategy had fallen by the wayside. He'd been wrong. He had to distance himself from Harry. He had to stop this adoption. He could only cause him more trouble than he already had. It was so obvious that he should've seen it immediately…if he'd not been blinded by his own sentimentality.

Not to mention what the boy had seen… Merlin. Severus felt himself go pale at the thought of those scenes that'd played out in his memory, and which the boy had witnessed. His worst memories, his bad choices, his dreariest moments…the horrors taken straight from the darkest hours of his life, ones he truly hoped Harry would never experience. Eileen and Tobias. It was pitiable, and Severus refused to be pitied. But there was worse, much worse, like the brutal acts he'd committed in the Dark Lord's name, that day when he'd willingly taken the Mark, agreed to kill and torture for the very same person that Harry was now fighting.

How could the boy still tolerate his presence? To want to save him, and follow him back here to this cursed Manor? How could he still respect him, and how could Severus still look him in the face? The scene Harry'd witnessed in the Pensieve had been humiliating…but compared to all that he'd just seen? He ground his teeth. He wasn't certain he could bear seeing Harry's scorn, or worse, the pity in the boy's eyes. Seeing it in Lily's eyes had been enough to wound him endurably.

That wasn't what he'd read in Harry's eyes a few minutes beforehand, surprisingly, but perhaps it was still a bit too soon. Merlin, it hadn't even been ten minutes since they'd left that hell. Tomorrow, the boy would've had time to think about all he'd seen, and probably wouldn't even want to speak to him.

Once again, everything had been ruined. And once again, by Dumbledore. A burst of hatred knotted his throat. He'd always respected the old man, even after Lily's death, even though he'd disapproved of the way he encouraged the younger Potter to put himself in dangerous situations. He knew what he owed Albus. But for now, he couldn't bear even the simple thought of the old wizard and his machinations. Always so sure he was right…of knowing what was best for everyone. No, Albus wasn't all-knowing, and it was time he learnt that. He'd left his life in the old man's hands for long enough. Now, he wasn't alone anymore, and he had to think of…

Harry. Severus had promised. And he truly wanted the boy in his life. But it was too late. And he was tired, so tired. Difficult and painful thoughts jumbled together inside his head, and he couldn’t find any logical solution.

No, for the time being, the only solution was a potion. A Dreamless Sleep Draught, the strongest dose he could tolerate, and a long rest, away from his two masters.

With unbearable slowness, he got up from his chair and took his turn at the steps. In the distance, he could hear Harry moving about the kitchen. His heart constricted. Soon, the Manor would be quiet again, and the room opposite his own would be empty once more.

Like himself.

Refusing to indulge his sentimentality any further, he closed the door to his room behind him and stretched out on the bed like he'd always done, wand in hand. Then, erecting his mental shields, he grabbed the phial on the bedside table and swallowed its contents.

Before his head touched the pillow, the Potions master had fallen into a dreamless sleep.

***

A few dozen feet away, Harry bustled around the stove, his mind elsewhere. Severus had gone up to his room and hadn't come to see him. He hadn't expected him to, of course, but he couldn't stop his stomach from twisting up in spite of himself.

And if Snape changed his mind? If he thought Harry'd gone too far in witnessing all those memories, if he decided to take back his promise to be there for him, to let him come to the Manor, to be something that resembled a family?

A family. But in a way, he had one in Remus. So why was he despairing at the idea of being rejected by the Potions master? Because it wasn't fair, bloody hell, this wasn't the way things were supposed to be. There'd been a time when finding out he was Remus' son, the son of anyone alive, would've made him mad with joy, but things were different now. Severus understood it. And for good reason, he thought, thinking about what he'd seen in the professor's memories. Snape knew what it was like to be rejected by one's family too; he knew what it was like to only be able to count on oneself.

For all his calmness and gentleness, Remus was nothing like himself. What had Harry got from him? His stubbornness, perhaps. The werewolf had surely had to prove how patient he was, seeking the acceptance of others all his life. What else? He didn't look like him at all physically, Harry thought idly. He was the spitting image of James Potter—everyone had told him this. A spell, maybe, that his mother had cast?

Yes, Remuse was brave. And kind. And loyal. But in spite of all that, Harry didn't see himself in the man, and even less, accept this new connection. It all struck him as so…false.

Severus, on the other hand. Despite their years of animosity, there was something natural about finding himself at the austere Potions professor's side. Besides, that was what Lily had thought; his mother had led him to Severus, not Remus!

He sighed heavily. He had to talk to Snape about it as soon as possible. If Snape wanted to. Oh Merlin…and if he didn't know about Remus? And if he decided that Harry had to go with his father, if Severus decided not to have any more to do with him because of this? And if….

A sizzling sound and a burning odor pulled him from his thoughts, his heart racing. The meal had just burnt…as usual. What had Snape said before? Ah, yes, do it more gently. No, today he'd prefer cooking the Muggle way, and too bad if it took longer. Afterward, he'd get some sleep as well; he truly needed it.

But no, he couldn't sleep now; he'd have nightmares. And he didn't want Severus to wake up. But whom to talk to? He could only think of one person, really, even if he doubted it was a good idea. Despite recent events, though, he had to admit that Dumbledore had always been a source of advice and comfort in the past. He'd supported him, even against Snape, even when he'd been wrong. And with his indulgent, grandfatherly demeanor, he'd been one of the first people on whom Harry could depend…and he appreciated Severus; he'd know what to think of the situation. He'd tell him if the professor needed his help. Obviously, Snape wasn't in the frame of mind to listen to him this evening.

All that was left was to hope he was available. Snape had gone up to his room, so the laboratory was free, and the Floo powder as well…

Taking the pan from the fire, he fixed himself a plate, and left the rest under a warming spell. A few seconds later, he'd gulped down his portion and then strode purposefully toward the basement of the house. He passed Snape's doors on tiptoes. He didn't like having to hide himself, but Snape would be furious if he learnt what Harry was getting ready to do.

The door didn’t' even creak behind him, and he found himself in front of the large stone fireplace, feeling slightly guilty and disappointed that Snape hadn't come after him. Seizing a handful of Floo powder, he threw it into the grate. "Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts."

The green flames flared intensely, and he pushed his upper body into the fireplace, uncertain of what he was going to find.

"Harry!" The relief was clear in the Headmaster's voice, and Harry relaxed slightly. "I didn't expect to see you so soon, my boy."

"Don't call me that," Harry grumbled, before regretting his irritation right away. This wasn't a good way to start. "Listen, I didn't come to argue with you, and I'm not coming back either, not for now."

"Ah, I must say I expected that," Dumbledore began with a trace of bitterness. "I'm happy you called, Harry. It's important that we talk."

"About what?" the boy asked distrustfully.

"Harry, I don't think you've forgotten what happened in Ollivander's shop, nor during the Minister's visit?"

Harry made a face; how could he have forgotten? "I thought that was sorted out for now."

"For now, yes," Dumbledore agreed. "But you no doubt recall the condition the Minister set?"

"That I stay at Hogwarts," Harry murmured. "But I can't, Professor, not now. I can't leave him by himself."

Even if Severus had asked for precisely that….

"I understand you're in a difficult position, but it will become even more so if you don't return," the Headmaster said. "And for Professor Snape as well."

Harry felt himself growing angry. It was blackmail, pure and simple blackmail!

"Leave Severus out of this! It's your fault to begin with; I don't know what you did to him with that spell, but nothing would've happened without that!"

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm fear you are right, truly. But even so, that doesn't change anything. Professor Snape risks being accused of kidnapping if the Ministry learns you're outside of Hogwarts' boundaries."

"And the paper certifying that I belong to him?"

"It was a deception, Harry. Nothing that could stand, if you disappeared."

He knew it, of course. But he couldn't face that, not now. "He needs me. I won't let him down like you did," Harry said resolutely.

This time, he was sure he saw a gleam of pain flash through the blue eyes. The Headmaster was definitely becoming curiously emotional these days.

"Is that what Severus thinks?" he asked casually.

"He thinks you've betrayed him, and I agree with him," Harry shot back.

"And yet it seems to me that you understand the reasons compelling me to—"

"I'm not talking about the spell," Harry interrupted, irritated. "That was disloyal. And stupid." He stopped for an instant, abruptly aware that he was speaking to the Headmaster. But it was too late to stop now, and really, he didn't want to. "I saw his memories. Voldemort had him…I don't know, imprisoned in his mind and was making him relive his worst memories. And you were there," he said accusingly. "You weren't the worst, but you were there."

"I confess I was very wrong about Professor Snape," he admitted calmly. "But Harry, as you yourself have just said, you saw his worst memories. Severus and I have a long history that transcends the bad moments you might've seen."

"…and he's not entirely blameless either, I know," Harry added. "But all the same, you betrayed his trust, and I won't make the same mistake. I want…" He stopped. He wanted to be able to stay, and for Snape to keep him with him, but he hadn't come to talk about that. "By the way, don't try to come to the Manor. Severus changed the fireplace wards. You won't get through."

"That's bothersome, to say the least," Dumbledore murmured. "I suppose he's furious with me at this point in time."

"Well, at this point in time, I think he's sleeping like a rock," Harry replied, "but yes, he's furious with you. Oh, and with me as well."

"May I ask what happened after you fell asleep? Clearly, your mission was a success."

"Oh, I managed to find him," Harry began, shuddering at the memory of it. "It was Voldemort. I don't know how he did that, but he was controlling Severus' mind and making him relive his worst moments, plenty of things about the Death Eaters and Voldmort himself. It was horrible—both the memories and Tom being there; he didn't want to let Snape go, and he wanted to make him pay…"

"The Mark," Dumbledore agreed. "Even if Voldemort is weak at the moment, it's none the less active. I suspect my spell destabilized Severus and allowed his former master to take control of his dreams. What I don't know, though, is how you were able to get him out alive?"

"I don't really know," Harry confessed. "After a while, the memories ended up, er, obeying me in a way. They followed my thoughts. And I was able to lead him out of the visions, and after that…" He stopped. "It's still a bit confusing."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I assume Severus is very tired, despite his eventful sleep?"

"I think so," Harry replied. "He was having trouble standing up. He went to bed straight away. And he seemed…at the end of his rope."

"Harry," the Headmaster went on worriedly, "you mustn't feel hurt by what Severus might've said after you returned; it's clear Professor Snape was in shock, after what'd just happened, and beside himself. He certainly wasn't thinking of what he was saying."

"How do you know what he might've said?" Harry retorted, half-annoyed, half-reassured.

"Oh, let's just say I know Severus well, and the two of you have many things in common," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Harry felt himself flush. He himself had just spent the last several minutes practically shouting at the Headmaster.

"I'm sorry," he offered, "I didn't want to be so hostile. You're right, Severus was a bit…Snape. But he didn't shout for long; he said we'd talk tomorrow, but he'll be rested by then, I think."

"A wise decision," Dumbledore said, clearly satisfied. "And you, Harry, how do you feel, after all this upheaval?"

His voice was gentle and worried, and Harry relaxed a bit more. He'd done the right thing, coming to talk to the Headmaster. "A bit stunned, I suppose," he answered. "Everything was so quick, and all those nightmares sent by Voldemort..."

"Yes, indeed, I gather that visiting Severus' memories mustn't have been a picnic," Dumbledore agreed. "Maybe you should get some rest as well, if you think you'll be all right at the Manor? Of course, you're free to return to Hogwarts at any time."

"I didn't want to sleep before talking…to you," Harry said.

The Headmaster nodded gently, his eyes softening. "Is there something in particular you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes…maybe…I don't know…" He took a deep breath. "It's about Remus."

There was movement in a corner of the room, and Harry narrowed his eyes to better see. From his spot in the fireplace, the view was limited, and he'd not tried to see any farther. But contrary to what he'd thought, it seemed that Dumbledore wasn't alone in his office. A calm, familiar voice spoke.

"Perhaps it'd be best if I leave you…unless you want to talk to me, Harry?"

He'd opened his mouth to reply, when he heard the creak of the door to the office; he instinctively threw himself backward until he heard McGonagall's familiar voice.

"Albus, do you have…" The witch stopped short when she noticed Harry's face in the flames. "Mr. Potter! You've come just in time. Would you be so kind as to take this to Professor Snape? It seems Poppy Pomfrey wasn't able to get through to you at the Manor."

"The fireplace wards have been changed," Harry told her as he took the potions that McGonagall held out to him. "I'm not sure, but I don't think anyone can get in anymore."

The witch frowned, seeming both worried and annoyed. "Harry…how is Severus?" she asked.

"He's resting. It's hard to say just now. But I'm sure the potions will help. Thanks, Professor."

McGonagall waved his thanks away with a hand. "It's not rational," she murmured. "I can't say I don't understand, but…Harry, could you ask him to fix the fireplace so it will let me pass through?"

Harry let out a little gasp of surprise. "I don't know, Professor. I'm not certain Severus will listen to me, and without meaning to offend you…" He made a slight face. "I don't know if he'd be very happy to see you. Pardon me, but I have the impression you're not his favorite person at Hogwarts."

"Appearances are sometimes deceiving, young man," McGonagall said sternly, before throwing a quick glance of apology at Dumbledore. "Severus knows I'm not always inclined to be of the same mind as the Headmaster, nor follow his instructions. Or at the very least, I like to think he'd remember that…and I want him to know that I in no way approve of what Albus did."

Her stiff, dignified manner contrasted with the emotion Harry read on her face. She turned to the Headmaster again. "It was entirely Slytherin, Albus," she said reproachfully.

"Ah, well," Dumbledore replied contritely, obviously sensitive to the remonstration, "I would hope that Severus will be able to appreciate this trick for what it was worth, and will forgive my audacity, but things turned out much more dramatically than I'd anticipated, obviously."

"Be that as it may," McGonagall continued, "Professor Snape has my word as a Gryffindor that I'll not try anything like that. I'd simply like to be able to speak with him."

"I'll talk to him about it," Harry said. "But I can't promise anything. Thanks for the potions, Professor, and thank Madam Pomfrey for me."

"Harry, is everything all right?" the Head of Gryffindor asked gently.

"I think so…" he answered. "The worst is over, isn't it?"

But he could read the doubt over his declaration in the eyes of the witch and wizard present.

"Professor," he said to Dumbledore, "I'll let you know tomorrow what I've decided. You think that'll be all right?"

"I doubt you'll change your mind anyway, if I'm not mistaken?" the Headmaster asked, his eyes sparkling.

Harry smiled and shook his head.

"Until tomorrow, then. And don't hesitate to come and talk with me if you need anything."

"I will," the boy assured him. "Thanks, Professor. And you too, Remus, and you, Professor," he said to McGonagall.

"Off you go, Harry," the witch said. "And take care of your new master."

As Harry pulled back through the flames again, he could've sworn that McGonagall had just winked at him.

The laboratory was still darkened, illuminated only by a few torches. With no potions on the fire, everything seemed so quiet. The embers in the fireplace were giving off a soft warmth, and before Harry could think, he found himself comfortably settled in his armchair, rolled in a ball in his cat form.

He most likely should've gone up to sleep in his room, but he had neither the desire nor the courage. Tonight, he just wanted to be a carefree cat in front of his fire, and not think of anything but how happy he felt to be at home, the Man In Black sleeping not far off.

And despite his long and difficult day, Shadow fell asleep purring.

***

Severus awakened with a vague feeling of having been trampled by a horde of Hippogriffs. His body seemed all at once numb, achy, stiff, and strangely rested. How long could he have slept? A quick Tempus informed him that more than twelve hours had gone by since he'd taken the Dreamless Sleep Draught. A record. Which explained why he'd probably dreamt toward the end, and why he felt more rested than he had since… Oh, since a very long time, anyway. Evidently, those twelve hours had extended the two days his body had been at rest, though not his mind.

He groaned as he sat up. Merlin, had he dreamt all of that, or had it actually happened? His befuddled mind seemed unwilling to get going this morning.

No, he hadn't been dreaming, he decided, he'd truly been locked away in his memory by the Dark Lord; he'd really been rescued by Harry, and the boy had well and truly been there for that parade of horrors.

Closing his eyes, Severus put his head in his hands. But why the devil was it so heavy this morning? He needed all his wits to decide his course of action. Whether to keep Harry, swear to him that he'd changed, that his loyalty was unwavering…or push him away to make him understand that he wasn't safe with him, and that he'd watch over him from a distance, and that it all had been a grave mistake…

But he couldn't. Harry… He needed him. And he'd promised he'd be there, just the night before even, in that dream. He'd agreed to let the boy into his life, and had accepted assuming that responsibility. To pay attention to him.

It was probably the first time in his life that he was persuaded he'd made the right choice, the necessary one. All that was left was to figure out how to carry it out…the Dark Lord surely wasn't going to stop here. The attack of the other night had been directed against him and him alone, but Harry had succeeded in putting himself in danger despite everything. What would happen when Voldemort regained his strength and recovered his powers?

His hand automatically went to his forearm. The Mark was curiously quiet today. After what'd happened, he'd expected a resurgence of pain. His features tensed in anticipation, Severus pulled up his sleeve. He'd never been able to bear the sight of this scar, not since Lily's death, in any case. The scar, the blatant proof of his culpability, so immutable and distinct…

Distinct?

No, not today. Severus felt his breath hitch at the shock. The scar he knew by heart, the one that'd ruled his life for so many years, had just suddenly changed in appearance. The Mark of the skull and snake were still visible, in reality, if one knew that it'd been there before. But it was deformed now, twisting the flesh with a vague imprint… vague for now, he thought, but he could see another symbol in the design that was just as recognizable.

The room began to spin around him. No, it wasn't possible… He couldn't have… Thoughts flashed through his head with the speed of a Golden Snitch, bouncing back and forth against each other. Yes, there was one possibility, one of the only ones he thought plausible, which would mean both heaven and hell. Freedom and condemnation.

Which could change everything.

He got up, staggering slightly, then slowly, almost fearfully, he traced the deformed Mark on his forearm with his fingertips. If he were right…. But how to be sure of it? He could think of only one person who could tell him, and it was unthinkable to go and nicely knock on the Dark Lord's door to ask his opinion.

But on reflection, it was never to his master that he'd gone to ask advice, not that one, anyway. Dumbledore. He had to talk to him. He alone would know what to make of this new turn of events.

He clenched his jaw. It'd not been twenty-four hours since he'd slammed the door in the Headmaster's face, and already he was running back to him, like a frightened child. Well, to hell with his pride—this was too important.

Deciding that washing could wait, Snape used a few freshening charms, then hurriedly changed his clothes.

Merlin, he could feel the strain on his magic, just from performing these spells. He shook his head, a knot in his stomach. Useless to cry over spilt milk. And this morning, he had other fish to try.

Speaking of the cat….

Closing his door behind him, Severus knocked lightly at the door to Harry's room. No answer. Obviously the boy was already up, which given the hour wasn't surprising. With a quicker step, he headed for the kitchen. Merlin, for someone who was never hungry, he dearly would've loved a hearty and nourishing breakfast this morning; he would've even loved one of Hagrid's infamous cakes, to be honest. But Harry wasn't in the kitchen either. True to his word, the boy had left a meal for him on the table, though. Snape went nearer, suspicious.

This couldn't be what he thought it was, though? But the aroma of a dinner kept warm for him confirmed it. Tuna. Harry had cooked tuna. It was totally…Shadowesque.

Seized by sudden intuition, Snape took off for the laboratory, vaguely nervous at the idea of facing the boy. His fears were in unfounded, though; it was indeed a black cat he found, curled up and sound asleep in the armchair.

The Potions master went closer, a slight smile on his face, and ruffled the animal's fur with his fingertips. Were all cats this irresistible when they slept, or only his own? Shadow lifted his head and blinked at him with blurry eyes. Severus allowed himself to gently pet the cat's head, giving him time to gather his wits…which he quickly did, rubbing against his Man In Black's sleeve as he purred.

Severus hadn't premeditated the gesture he made then; he didn't know if it was gratitude, the impulse of the moment, habit or plain tenderness that overtook him, but he carefully took the cat in his arms and held it against him, a hand burrowing into its fur.

If he were surprised, the cat didn't show it, and snuggled happily into the Potions master's black robes, closing his eyes to better breathe in the man's scent. Safety, he smelled safety…and wood smoke.

A few seconds later, Severus placed the cat on the chair, suddenly self-conscious of his burst of affection. Merlin, why was this so easy with a cat, and so complicated with humans? With a quick flick of his wand, he vanished the fur from his robes and cleared his throat as he headed for the fireplace.

"I must speak to Dumbledore," he announced. "I'll just be a moment. Stay at the Manor, don't go out; do whatever you like in the meantime."

Surprised, Shadow transformed quickly into a curious teenager.

"Dumbledore? But I thought that—"

"Harry," Snape interrupted, "save your questions for later. I promise you we'll talk, just…not now."

"Oh," the boy said, vaguely disappointed. "He'll be glad. Dumbledore, I mean. I, er, I talked to him while you were sleeping, with the Floo powder. McGonagall left these potions for you, by the way."

Severus nodded and took the potions in question. Just what he needed. He swallowed them down in a single gulp.

"You have every right to speak to whomever you wish, Harry," he said. "I'd just prefer that you avoid Death Eaters, but I don't think that'll be a problem."

Harry laughed softly. "No, probably not." He would've liked to ask the professor how he felt, but his feline intuition whispered that it probably wasn't the right time. But he didn't want Snape to disappear right away either. "When you say the Manor, you mean the entire Manor? I can go where I want?" he asked, the picture of the green room in his head.

An ironic eyebrow lifted in reply. "I'd like you avoid my room, but it doesn't seem to hold any secrets for you anymore. So, yes, go where you like. Most of the Manor is never used, but as I told you, you'll find a game room upstairs."

"No room is out of bounds, then?" Harry insisted.

Snape seemed surprised, but contented himself with a shrug. "You're at home, Harry, and no, none of the rooms are out of bounds. Anything else before I go?"

"No. Yes. You're…all right?" he couldn't stop from asking.

"As well as can be," the professor replied. "And even though I suppose my timing leaves something to be desired…thank you, Harry. It's wholly probable that no one but you could've got me out of that situation. My outburst yesterday…" He gave a vague wave of his hand. "…was no doubt inappropriate. And regrettable."

"I understand," Harry said, avoiding the professor's eyes. The subject of the scenes he'd witnessed would be back on the carpet much too soon as it was.

He heard Snape sigh beside him. "I know I'm not a pleasant person, and I have a tendency to lose my temper more than necessary. But that's something you're already familiar with, I think."

Harry stifled a little laugh. Oh, yes, he knew this part of Snape's character very well…a bit too much, even. After all those years of being the target of it, he didn't see how he could've forgotten that.

"I won't change in a day, Harry, so I apologize in advance. Certain circumstances…contribute to my having less control of myself and my words. That's changes nothing about what I think of you…and the rest."

Harry had a vague idea of what 'the rest' could mean, and he lifted his head, a slight smile on his face. Maybe Severus had difficulty keeping his anger in check, but Harry certainly had as much trouble talking about these sorts of things as he did.

"I know. Well, I think I do. Don't worry about me, it'll be fine. Just…come back, all right? I really do need to talk."

Snape nodded. "Would you like for me to bring you anything from Hogwarts? I could order a lunch from the elves; I suppose that famous Dobby knows your preferences. I saw that you gave into your instincts last evening," Severus said with a slight smile. "Is everything all right, Harry?"

The tuna. He wanted to talk about tuna. Oh, Merlin. That wasn't what he'd meant.

"You, er, you don't like fish?"

"I've nothing against it. But you didn't answer my question."

"I'm fine," Harry said as he fidgeted slightly.

"A potion, perhaps?" Severus asked with a frown. No, the boy didn't seem out of sorts.

"You remember what you said, Professor," Harry replied. "Not everything is fixed with potions."

The hesitant and wounded look the boy shot him made Snape shudder inwardly. Harry hadn't called him 'Professor' for a while now. There was something more important than he'd thought behind all of this. But he really didn't have time this morning, the slight throb beginning in his scar reminded him. Without answering, he chose a few potions from the shelves.

"Take them," he said as he held them out to Harry, who gave him an accusing look. "I know they won't sort out everything, but you'll feel better. I'll be back quickly, Harry, and I promise we'll talk as much as you like. Does anything hurt?"

The boy shook his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Do you think you could make something to eat and manage not to put yourself in danger while I'm gone?"

"And I won't piss on the carpet either… Yes, you can leave me alone for two minutes, Professor."

Snape almost answered, but at the last minute he decided not to, and contented himself with a smile. "Be good."

And with those words, he threw a handful of Floo powder and disappeared into the flames.

If the Headmaster were surprised by his appearance, he didn't let on. His face calm, he greeted him with a smile and a glance that could've passed for a look of apology. "Severus, I'm happy to see you again."

Snape grumbled, not disposed to niceties. In short order, the old man was certainly going to offer him a sherbet lemon as if nothing had happened.

"Please, sit down. Sherbet lemon?"

And voilà. Without relaxing his jaw, Severus went to take a seat in one of the Headmaster's comfortable armchairs, struggling to resist the urge to rub his arm, even though it was still painless.

"I take that as a no," Dumbledore said softly. "What can I do for you, Severus? Other than offer you my humblest apologies for what happened."

"I trusted you," Snape said dully.

"And I betrayed that trust, for your own good, at least I believed…"

"You know nothing!" Severus burst out, suddenly concerned about behaving like Harry had the tendency to do in this office. "You haven't the slightest idea… You should've talked to me, Albus, and asked me; you had no right to treat me that way!"

"I'm completely aware of that, my boy," the Headmaster answered. "But you must admit you wouldn't have listened. Your new responsibilities make you very unreasonable when it comes to your health. You'll be of no further use to Harry if you exceed your limitations."

"None of that has anything to do with what happened! You trapped me! You're really no better than he is…" Severus stopped to take a deep breath. Yes, his little outburst definitely had the markings of adolescent hysteria, which hardly suited him.

"I suppose you're speaking of Voldemort," Dumbledore sighed. "Severus, what happened? I had no desire for this to turn out the way it did, I hope you know that."

"What do you think, old man? The Dark Lord controls his Death Eaters in every possible way. That Mark…" He shuddered. "It's not just used to summon the troops. I was fortunate to be a good Occlumens. I systematically protect my mind and reinforce my mental shields before I sleep. Those who don't should expect to have their dreams and their sleep inspected and controlled, or in this particular case, manipulated."

It seemed to Snape that the Headmaster paled slightly.

"Severus, I am sorry."

"If you'd given me a few minutes or seconds before subjecting me to that forced repose, I could've spared us this little melodrama and putting your precious savior in danger."

The memory of Harry's involvement made him see red all of a sudden, and all thought of restraint was forgotten. "What were you thinking, for Merlin's sake? He could've been killed!"

"Severus, these were only visions; his body was right there with us, safe and sound."

"Visions sent by the Dark Lord! He could've been trapped himself, and his mind would've been destroyed as surely as if he'd been there in person! What would you have done with his body after that? You're absolutely irresponsible!" he roared, unable to believe that Dumbledore could be so nonchalant.

"I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to him," the old wizard calmly replied.

Severus was speechless. He'd already known the Headmaster to be candid, but never naïve. At least to this degree.

"Albus, the Dark Lord was controlling my mind; I couldn't do anything for Harry; in fact, he's the one who came to save me! If anything had happened to him, if he'd not got the upper hand…." His throat constricted. "I couldn’t have done a thing."

"And I knew as well that Harry wouldn't let Voldemort have you, and that you would listen to no one but him. I took a risk, Severus, I'm aware of that, but it was necessary."

"It wasn't," the Potions master said sharply. "You have no excuse for risking his life."

"Ah, in truth, I had one, even if it's likely that many people wouldn't be of the same mind. You understand this."

"And what was that?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"I couldn't risk losing you," Dumbledore simply said, a note of emotion in his voice.

That declaration had the immediate effect of rendering Severus speechless again. The black eyes searched the Headmaster's face for a moment, then he relaxed noticeably.

"My usefulness is not worth risking Harry's life, Albus."

"Usefulness is certainly an interesting thing," Dumbledore said, "but it's difficult to leave it at that when it's a matter of people one is fond of, isn't it?"

This time, the professor looked away. "You cannot allow yourself those sorts of sentiments, Albus. You know it better than I."

"Severus, I deeply regret having betrayed your trust. I've perhaps not always been clear about how important you—"

"For pity's sake, spare me these inanities," Snape hissed. But Dumbledore couldn't help but notice the hint of satisfaction in his voice. "We can't allow ourselves this sort of strategy, Albus. Don't put Harry's life or mental health in jeopardy again for such frivolous reasons. And while we're on the subject, that warning applies to myself as well. I'll do what you ask of me, as far as is possible, but stop treating me like a child or your personal Death Eater."

The Headmaster's eyes narrowed painfully. "That wasn't my intention, Severus…at all. You have my sincere apologies."

The Potions master nodded curtly.

"Despite everything," the Headmaster went on, "may I ask how you're feeling today?"

Snape made a face. They were down to this. This was why he'd come, of course, but impatience and anxiety jockeyed equally for position. The scar…

"I'm fine," he replied. "But…something's happened."

The Headmaster nodded understandingly. Evidently, he'd not expected the Potions professor to put in an appearance so quickly just to demand an explanation. "Nothing serious, I hope?" he asked.

"Yes. No. I'm not sure. Nothing… Oh, Merlin, this is useless," Snape grumbled, then with a rapid gesture, he bared his forearm, exposing the Mark to the Headmaster's eyes.

The little scene was perhaps worth the aggravation, Severus decided, watching Dumbledore's expression. His eyes wide and his shoulders suddenly stiff, the Headmaster seemed to be holding his breath, all his attention focused on the Mark…or what was left of it. Albus Dumbledore, surprised and speechless—this was surely a first, Snape thought idly, as the wizard bent in over his arm to see it better.

A good minute passed before the Headmaster fell back into his chair, lost in his thoughts. Severus did the same, covering the Mark again with his sleeve.

"What do you think?" he finally asked, at the end of his patience.

It took a moment for the Headmaster to answer. "It's…I'm not certain I know what to tell you, Severus. I think you have an idea on the matter yourself."

The Potions master nodded. "Harry," he simply replied.

Dumbledore nodded in assent. "That's what it seems to me as well. When did the change take place?"

"Probably while I was unconscious," Snape answered, the corners of his mouth twisting. "I noticed it when I awakened this morning."

"Have you felt a difference?"

"It's not painful anymore," he said simply.

"Severus, it…it seems quite impossible, but given the circumstances, I don't see any other explanation," the Headmaster said gently.

"But how is this possible?" the Potions master asked nervously. "Do you think the same thing happened to all the Death Eaters?"

"No, certainly not," Dumbledore answered. "It's a matter of a change in personal allegiance. You're to my knowledge the only Death Eater whose loyalty is tied to Harry Potter."

"My loyalty has always been the same since the death of his parents, Albus; there's nothing new there, so why now?"

"I regret to have to go back to this, but could you describe for me what happened when Harry came to rescue you in your sleep? The circumstances which made our young friend able to extract you from Voldemort's influence?"

And of course, the answer in and of itself clarified everything, Severus thought. The way he'd forced his memories to answer the boy's questions—the way Harry claimed he'd done, without being aware of it. His deep-seated and irrevocable decision to follow Harry, whatever happened, to tie his destiny to the boy's. The mask that Harry wrestled from his face. And the flash of pain that'd struck him just before he regained consciousness, that abrupt rupture…

He groaned. In front of him, Dumbledore was watching him patiently and compassionately.

"You chose your own destiny, Severus. Am I mistaken?"

"No," the professor admitted, defeated. "But that doesn't explain how the transfer could've occurred. Harry has acquired a considerable amount of powers, but he still doesn't know how to control them. Do you think he could've…that he could've…" He swallowed hard. There was something truly horrible about the thought, and Harry seemed so innocent.

"No, Severus, I doubt Mr. Potter sought to enslave you," the Headmaster affirmed. "On the other hand, there's no doubt he wanted to tear you away from Voldemort, and very likely link you to himself…but in no way like your former master. I know him well enough to be certain of that."

Snape fidgeted in his seat. "It pains me to ask you this, but what do you know about this Mark? I recall that at one time you did some research to try to get to the bottom of it, am I right? What did you discover?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It's very ancient magic, and very dark. It's more powerful than the artifacts used to reduce wizards to slavery, made so by the fact that the bearer chooses to take it willingly. Its first use dates back to the days of ancient Rome. But that hardly helps us. It's a Mark of absolute power, a wizard choosing to tie his soul to that of another. It requires devotion, loyalty, and of course, denial of one's own will to the service of a more powerful person. Even the nature of this Mark—the depths of its roots are such that it cannot be dissolved, short of the death of one of the two parties."

"But the Dark Lord is not dead," Severus objected.

"No, he isn't. At least, not really. But his soul has been divided, multiple times."

"The Horcruxes," Snape murmured. "But what does that have to do with the problem at hand?"

Dumbledore gave him a long look, both tired and unyielding.

Perplexed at first, the Potions master suddenly blanched. "Albus, no…"

"It's the only possible explanation, my boy, I'm afraid."

"You knew it…" Snape breathed out. "You've always known it…"

"I've suspected it for a while, yes, and this is the confirmation of it. A part of Voldemort's soul came to reside in Harry's when he tried to kill him, when he was still but a baby. That's what allowed Harry to take control of your Mark, to break the chains binding you to your former master and attach you to himself. A soul fragment, Voldemort's powers, and the powerful connection that unites you. Not to mention, of course, your combined wills."

"But if what you say is true, that involves much more than this cursed Mark! His soul…if it's tied to the Dark Lord, he won't be able to die without taking Harry with him!"

Dumbledore slowly nodded.

"You're…you're…" Mad with rage, Snape gripped the arms of his chair so forcefully that his fingers whitened. "You're using Harry. You've protected him for the sole purpose of letting him die at the right moment. You've raised him like a pig for the slaughter!"

"No so long ago, the idea would've seemed judicious to you," the Headmaster murmured.

"How dare you!" Severus bellowed. "Lily's son! I would've never agreed for you to sacrifice him this way. I never should've listened to you…"

"Severus, calm yourself," Dumbledore said soothingly. "You're too intelligent of a man to not see there could be other alternatives. And you know me well enough to appreciate what Harry means to me." There was a note of pleading in his voice, and that detail, more than his words, quelled the better part of Snape's anger.

"I won't let him die," he said. "If that walking-dead psychopath has to stay alive because of this, so be it, but I won't let Harry be sacrificed for a cause. You can't ask that of me, Albus."

"As I told you, my boy, there will be other alternatives. I still don't know which, but I can't help but see the Mark you wear now as a sign of fate."

The Potions master shook his head perplexedly. "Do you think this affects him? Harry, I mean?"

"I think both of them are affected by this involuntary connection," Dumbledore answered. "But it doesn't change anything of what Harry is. Nor what Voldemort is, I'm afraid. It allows an exchange of visions, and powers, and this transfer of the Mark. But Harry's personality belongs only to him and him alone. His heart as well."

His head in his hands, Snape groaned. "What am I supposed to do, Albus? What can I do for him?"

"What you're already doing, my boy," the Headmaster said gently. "Be there for him. Don't leave him alone to face what he must experience and confront. "

Snape reflexively rubbed his forearm. "But this changes everything, Albus. Absolutely everything."

"No, my boy, it doesn't change the most important thing… What there is between you and Harry remains the same," Dumbledore reassured him.

"You don't understand," the professor murmured, "this Mark is much more than a sign of belonging…the one who controls it can direct its bearer in many ways, and none of them are very pleasant, believe me."

"Severus, you've only experienced this instrument in Voldemort's hands. Trust Harry not to abuse his powers, and who knows… Perhaps that could even turn to your advantage," Dumbledore said.

But the ex-Death Eater wasn't calmed by this. "Albus, this isn't a simple tattoo or a built-in Portkey! It's a Mark of slavery, and Potter is my new master!"

"It's a Mark you took willingly," the Headmaster gently pointed out, "a long time ago, I agree, but this change of master can't horrify you this much, not after what Voldemort's made you suffer. It is, it seems to me, the best key to freedom you could've dreamt of."

Shaking his head, Severus stared at Dumbledore as if he'd suddenly gone mad. "Have you forgotten the steps I was intending to take, old man? I've already told you I've come to think of Harry as my son. And I truly intended to follow this route until he no longer needed me."

"I don't see why things should change," the old wizard said. "Harry's proven how attached he is to you, and to what lengths he'll go to keep you at his side. The transfer of allegiance couldn't have occurred without his complete consent, even unconsciously."

"What did you miss in my explanation about the Mark?" Severus growled. "Harry Potter is my new master; he can freely punish me, summon me to him, try to infiltrate my mind…and that's just the start. What am I supposed to do in face of that, Albus? Tell him to sit in the corner?"

"I doubt Harry will see things that way," the Headmaster answered. "He'll probably be more horrified than you at that idea."

"He must not know," Severus said, falling back into his chair in defeat. "He'd feel even guiltier. He'll be afraid. He must not know."

"Still, it will be necessary that he does," the Headmaster sighed, "but not before you yourself have accepted the situation. I don't claim it will be simple, but I insist on believing it an excellent thing, much better than you think. However…"

"Yes?" the professor groaned.

"Perhaps it'd be best straight off to make sure we're not mistaken. I doubt the margin of error is great, but a simple spell will be enough for me to make certain. If you will?"

Once again, Snape rolled up the long black sleeve and held out his arm to the Headmaster. A slight wave of his wand, along with a murmured incantation, and Dumbledore's eyes gleamed as he nodded. "It is indeed Harry's magical signature coming from the Mark. There's no doubt."

Incapable of speaking a word, Severus nodded, before looking down again at the Mark, which, twisted and stretched, was attempting to change from the symbol of the death head into the easily recognizable one of a lightning bolt.

The die was cast. He belonged to Harry Potter. And for better or for worse, he was determined to accomplish the mission he'd dedicated himself to until the very end: whether he was his master, his cat, or his son, Harry would survive, and he'd have everything he'd not had the chance to have.

A family, freedom, and a life that was truly his own.