Alone. He was alone in the Manor. And he had carte blanche to do what he felt like doing. A sly little smile crossed Harry's face, and an instant afterward, a black cat slipped soundlessly up the laboratory stairs.

No secret rooms, no forbidden places. He'd been insistent when he'd asked, so Severus couldn't find fault with him. At the worst, he'd play the naivety card, claiming he'd wanted to explore as the professor had suggested. And if the door was locked, oh well… He'd just have to open it, wouldn't he? And why not, since Snape had nothing to hide.

Spurred on by curiosity, the cat soundlessly climbed the stairs. He was getting really good at this, he thought, claws retracted and paw pads muffling the sound, agile jumps— a feline body really had advantages!

The stairway was intimidating, as was the corridor in which he found himself when got to the top. Everything here seemed so new and unused. For the hundredth time, he turned the thought over in his mind: what had Snape's intentions been in buying the manor? Everything was so vast and deserted. There were numerous doors in front of him, most of them closed.

If his calculations were correct, the green room should be off to his left. To his surprise, the first door was open, and he didn't need to change into his human form to enter.

The shutters to the room were open, letting the light stream in through the heavy green curtains. There was a dark, wooden floor and walls covered with hangings, lending the room an odd ambiance of cheerfulness. A cheerfulness that was a bit forced, perhaps. Shadow jumped nimbly onto a large billiard table that stood in the middle of the room.

The game room! This was what this was. Near the window was the chessboard that Severus had spoken of, the pawns set out in their squares as if they were waiting for players. They'd probably been waiting for a very long time. There was also a dart board, and what appeared to be expensive wooden boxes arranged carefully on the shelves, as if they were new, as well as various objects he didn't recognize.

Nothing very exciting, but the billiard table would surely be fun. He'd have to ask Severus to teach him; he'd have a better chance of winning at that game than at chess, if they ever got around to it.

And yes, Harry would've really liked for them to get around to it. The training, preparing potions—all that was fine and good, but he would've liked to share something else with the professor. Just like this, to pass the time. Together.

But before that, they'd have 'The Talk.' Shadow trembled. Yes, 'The Talk,' but before that, the exploration! He'd seen enough of this room; it was time to move on to the next one.

Reluctantly taking his human form again, Harry opened the first door on his right. A little sitting room, he noted, with a bookcase and comfortable-looking furniture. It was smaller than the impressive sitting room on the ground floor, and he made a mental note to come back to it later. It seemed pleasant and welcoming.

The second door on the left opened into what seemed to be a small storage room, so Harry went on, all of a sudden nervous. If his calculations were correct… The next doorknob turned in his hand, but the door refused to open. The boy felt his heart beat faster. This was it!

He drew his wand from his robes and leveled it at the lock, breathing out, "Alohomora!"

There was a little click. Surely it couldn't be this easy? Hesitantly, he pushed the door, which opened easily. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped forward, blinking his eyes.

The room was dark, so he headed quickly for the curtains and threw them open wide. He turned back to take in the room that was now flooded with light, and for a moment he was speechless.

The green room.

Everything here was dramatically different from the rest of the Manor. The furniture in the room was clearly very old—at least old enough to have been there for many years. Someone had lived here, and his prior suspicions were confirmed as well: this someone had been female. It was clearly a woman who'd occupied this room. All that remained was to know who…

Harry walked slowly toward the bed, which was green, like the carpet and the curtains at the windows. Using his fingertips, he touched the patchwork quilt covering the blankets. It was so…personal, so different than the chilling anonymity that dominated the rest of the Manor. And the bed wasn't even of very good quality. Simply…comfortable and homey.

Fascinated, he went on exploring. The dressing table—the one he'd seen through the window! It was a beautiful piece of furniture that didn't match the rest of the room, but the effect was rather harmonious. A brush was still lying on the table, as well as a hair-ribbon, also green. A few other items were scattered here and there. It seemed as if the room's occupant had just stepped out for a moment, that she'd return, smiling and graceful, looking for her brush. At least, that was the way Harry imagined it.

And why not? There was even a book on the bedside table. Harry went closer to read the title: Magical Love. He smiled. A romance, then. Had she been in love with Snape? Certainly. Otherwise, what would she have been doing here?

Like a robot, he headed for the wardrobe and opened the doors wide. The smell of perfume assaulted his senses: a slight odor, something reminiscent of the countryside and flowers. The scent was distinctive, but so sweet he wanted to bury his face in the dresses hanging there. Without knowing why, he felt his heart constrict and a vague sadness spread through him. What was he doing there, in the closet of a woman who was probably dead? The perfume had the smell of times past that made him feel like crying…and the dresses, simple and colorful, seemed to speak of happiness lost but never forgotten.

His eyes misty, he took a step backward and closed the wardrobe. Merlin, he was going mad… He should've never come in here. This simple room smelled so sad…so sad.

He should've left right away, but he was powerless to do so. Instead, he perused the books in the little bookcase, tracing their spines with his finger. Shakespeare. Milton. Romantic novels, too, and magical treatises. Potions, even. He felt the corners of his mouth lift in spite of himself. So, Severus had found a woman who loved potions as much as he did? And there on a shelf, wasn't that…? He leant in closer. Yes, it was—the little china figure of a shepherdess that he'd seen in Snape's memories, the only thing he'd taken when he'd fled his house.

Merlin, it was all so very sad! And these pictures on the walls, the pastel colors, the landscapes. He recognized Monet…and penciled sketches, photos of people he didn't know, but who had the same familiar feel as everything else in the room.

An old turntable, a stack of records placed beside them on the table. Once again, he couldn't resist, and looked over the jackets with a shaking hand. Genesis. Led Zeppelin. Neil Young. Supertramp.

Supertramp. He liked Supertramp too. The weight in his chest suddenly doubled in intensity, and the records slipped out of his hands and scattered on the desk. All right, he had to get hold of himself; this was totally stupid. This woman listened to the same groups as he did, so what? This room was emotionally touching, but it was only a matter of ambiance. He'd asked himself so many questions about this room that everything seemed somewhat exaggerated now. The woman who'd occupied this room probably wasn't even dead. Maybe she was simply a friend of Snape's who'd not come to visit him since a certain Harry Potter was taking up his time.

In any case, he shouldn't have come here, and even less, rummaged through things; it was impolite and improper. His hands were nervously straightening the records to put them back in place before he left the room once and for all, when his fingers brushed against something rough in the wood of the desk. No, not exactly rough, he thought, but hollow, in fact.

He bent over slightly to look more closely at the desk, and couldn't help but smile. Whoever the occupant of the room had been, she was very young…and very much in love. A clumsy but determined hand had carved a heart into the wood of the desk, surrounding it with sweetheart initials. Two pairs of initials, in fact. One wasn't hard to guess: S.S. for Severus Snape, but the other?

And all of a sudden, the realization struck him like a lightning bolt. His breath rapid, he fell into the chair, unable to look away from the inscription on the desk.

L. E.

It'd been so obvious, so clear from the beginning. How could he have missed it?

Lily Evans. The room was his mother's. Had been…

Merlin, it was impossible, completely impossible. Severus had said… Staggering, he went to the dressing table once again, and grabbed the brush, noticing what he'd failed to see the first time: red hair tangled in the bristles of the brush.

Green ribbons, like the bed, the color of Lily's eyes….

Her records. Her books. Her clothes. Her perfume. Before he realized what he was doing, he'd opened the wardrobe doors again, then knelt and buried his face in the closest dress, filling his lungs with a breath full of the long-forgotten perfume. Within in seconds, he felt as if he were suffocating, not certain if it was from trying to hold back his tears or because he was choked with them.

A creak in the floorboards startled him, and he was on his feet in an instant, looking desperately around the room.

"Mum?"

But the only answer was silence, the effect like a cold, drenching shower. He suddenly felt more ridiculous than ever, there, alone in the middle of the empty and oddly haunted room. But not by a ghost; no, but by memories and an unbearable nostalgia. Did Snape come here—did he immerse himself in the perfume lingering in Lily's scarves, did he thumb through her books, and listen to her records? Did he himself call out to her as well?

Unable to stay a moment longer, Harry fled, gently closing the door behind him. He'd barely taken a step into the hallway when he was overtaken by a strong urge to open the door and go back into the room again, to stretch out on that bed, to try and recapture… What? Or rather, whom? He walked away, refusing to look back. Lily was dead, dead and gone for fifteen years and nothing would bring her back—neither this place, nor Severus.

Snape.

A surge of rage swept over him and he raced down the stairs. Why had he hidden it from him? What right did he have to keep it for himself alone? All of that had belonged to his mother, and he had a right to it! Did Snape think he'd made up for this by giving him the wooden box?

Well, he was mistaken, seriously mistaken!

Oh, they were going to talk, yes, he could be sure of it.

With a heavy step, he headed for his room and fell onto the bed, torn between anger and distress. When had Lily lived here? And why? What reason did Snape have for lying to him about it? His heart heavy, he grabbed the little wooden box sitting on the bedside table next to the photo McGonagall had given him.

The sight of the photo was enough to quell his anger. He should have more trust in Severus. He surely had his reasons, and probably was thinking about talking to him about him at the opportune moment. But talk to him about what?

Harry groaned. He wanted to talk to Snape right now. Why had he needed to go see Albus so soon? He had to come back—now, now, now!

The sound of a door slamming suddenly made him jump. Was it possible? Steps rang out in the stairway, and Harry stood up, his heard pounding, wand in his hand. It could only be him, of course, so why did he suddenly feel so nervous? As if electricity was running through him… There was muffled knock at the door, and Harry tried to relax.

"Come in."

The door opened slowly and Severus appeared. "Everything all right, Harry?"

He'd not expected the question, and for a moment stood with his mouth open, unable to form an answer. This was clearly enough for Snape, who came forward and took a seat in the desk chair.

He seemed strangely tense himself, Harry noticed. Whatever had taken place in Dumbledore's office didn't seem to have pleased the professor. Or was he unhappy with Harry himself? Was Severus aware of what he'd done?

"Harry, breathe," Snape said softly.

It was only when he took a deep breath that Harry realized he'd been holding it since the professor had entered the room. Merlin, what was happening to him? This was Severus, just Severus. He watched the wizard open his mouth to speak, and before he had time to think, Harry spoke ahead of him.

"So, you sorted things out with Dumbledore?"

It was the stupidest question he'd ever asked, but at least it served to stop Snape's words.

Frowning, Snape said, "I suppose you could say that, yes."

"He really didn't want to hurt you, you know. But he's always so sure of knowing everything, and wants to take charge. I think sometimes he doesn't realize he's going too far. And he's so old…"

Harry stopped, aware that he was babbling. In front of him, Severus shot him a look that was both worried and amused.

"Everything is fine, Harry. We'll be returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, or even this evening if you like. Albus and I discussed matters, even if I'm far from appreciating his little intervention."

"That's…a good thing," Harry said, thrown off balance. So, that was all? "So, you're not angry anymore? I mean…you were rather furious last night."

His eyes drifted down to his hands crossed on his knees, unable to bear the professor's piercing gaze any longer.

Form the corner of his eye, he saw Snape shift in his chair, as if he were settling in for a long conversation. "There are many things I said last night that would've benefited from a bit of restraint on my part. But certain of them remain nonetheless true."

The boy stiffened at his words. Was Severus perhaps going to finally throw him out?

"You're a young wizard destined for an exceptional future, Harry," he went on. "And it's not only your future. What you've accomplished up until now has sufficiently set you apart from other young people your age. You are also now one of the most powerful wizards in this country, perhaps even, who knows, the most powerful. But despite all of that—all your good intentions and your bravery…"

A bristling at the back of his neck made Harry look up. Whatever Severus had to say to him, he had to look him in the face. Obviously satisfied, the professor continued.

"Despite everything people expect of you, and the prophecy weighing on your shoulders, you're a boy of sixteen, inexperienced and impulsive, who still does not control his powers. You cannot, and I insist on this point, you cannot throw yourself into every dangerous situation to save the world. It's simply not realistic. There's nothing surprising about the fact that I've long thought you have a problem with your ego. I know you well enough now to realize that this is not the case, but this tendency to be negligent about your own safety must stop now."

"I…I understood well enough yesterday, Professor," Harry said. "It just seemed the right thing to do at the time. I didn't want something to happen to you."

"And I don't want anything to happen to you either, especially because of me! I'm the adult here, Harry, can you understand that?" Snape asked as calmly as he could.

"I understand, really," the boy answered, his throat tight. "It's just that… For sure I would've done that before this summer, but now… I don't want you to disappear; it's idiotic, I know, but I need that…need you. If you think you can forgive me for…you know."

"Stupid child," Snape said gently. "I've not the slightest intention of 'disappearing,' as you call it. As for forgiving you, outside of that infuriating tendency of putting your life and my sanity in danger, I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You know, what you said last night," Harry insisted, ill-at-ease. "The fact that…that I saw, well, your memories."

Snape's face froze while he tried to relax his posture. "It's hardly acceptable, is it?" he murmured. "I know that this time you weren't trying to be indiscreet, Harry. To be honest, I'm rather surprised, in hindsight, that you didn't have issues with me first."

Confused, Harry stared at him for an instant. Severus' expression gave nothing away, but the boy suspected this was a critical moment. "Issues? I don't see why."

"For having followed Voldemort, for a start. For having taken the Mark. And everything that came afterward…"

Harry shrugged. "I knew that already. You've changed, you're not on his side anymore. I’m just…sorry for you," he finished.

A heavy silence settled between, seeming to stop time. For so long, in fact, that Harry began to wonder if Snape hadn't been Stupefied. He fidgeted uncomfortably on his bed, and the movement seemed to animate the professor, who ran a hand across his face, briefly closing his black eyes.

"I suppose that pity isn't the first feeling one would wish to inspire in one's children," he said dully.

Harry stared at him, his eyes wide. Had he really just said…? But…Severus shouldn't think that, not at all, it was terribly untrue!

"No, that's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I respect you, really, you're sort of a… I mean, a great professor, and I, um…"

Oh Merlin, this wasn't starting off well. His cheeks pink, he stopped at the sight of Snape's sardonic expression and raised eyebrow.

"A great professor? I wasn't expecting such hypocrisy on your part, Mister Potter."

Harry felt himself blush even more furiously. "All right, as a professor, you're pants," he admitted without daring to look at him. "But as for the rest of it. I’m not joking, I really respect you. And not just that…it's…I wanted to talk to you about it, but, while you were sleeping all that time, something happened. Or rather, I learnt something."

Groaning, he put his head in his hands. Where to begin? He wanted to talk about Remus, but he didn't want Severus to reject him now, and he wanted to talk about the green room and Lily, but he didn't want Snape to think that he doubted him or… The pressure of a hand on his shoulder made him look up. In front of him, Severus was handing him a potions phial, his eyes soothing.

"Drink."

Which he did without protest.

"A calming potion," Snape clarified. "Do you need anything else, while we're at it? Did you eat?"

The boy nodded. "I don't need anything. It's just that…so many things happened while you were gone."

"So I've surmised," Severus replied bitterly. "I'm listening."

But oddly, the words didn't want to come out.

"You're aware, about Remus?"

Snape frowned. "More precisely?"

Harry bit his lips. "He has a son," he said.

This time, the professor let loose a long sigh. "Harry, might I know how you learnt of that?" he asked.

"Oh, I spied," the boy replied offhandedly.

Snape was silent for a moment. "Obviously. Another lesson you've yet to learn, isn't it?"

"You said it," Harry said, irritated. "It's so easy when you're a cat."

Severus shook his head, as if to sweep away the idea. "Doesn't matter. And to answer your question, yes, I'm aware of it."

Harry felt his heart about to beat out of his chest. Snape was aware. He knew that Remus was his father, and despite it all, he'd not pushed him away. Was he supposed to feel relieved, or worried?

"And…that doesn't matter to you?" he asked.

"No, I wouldn't say that," the professor replied. "It's certainly going to complicate matters. For you and Remus in particular, I assume."

"That's for sure," Harry murmured. "But that doesn't change anything about…the rest of it. I mean, I haven't changed my mind. Even if Remus is…well, technically…."

Technically, he slept with my mother, Harry thought, before it struck him full-force. Oh Merlin, he slept with my mother. Shocked, he looked up at Snape.

"You must really hate him," Harry breathed out.

The professor made a face. "Hate is too strong a word. Actually, to be fair, just the opposite. I happened to have played a certain part in this mater of paternity. A rather unfortunate role, all things considered."

The words were out of his mouth before Harry had time to hold them back. "The green room…."

He watched Snape apprehensively, but the man only frowned. "Pardon?"

Harry repeated himself reluctantly. "The green room. There's a connection, isn't there?" It didn't make any sense, and yet… There had to be one, Harry tried to persuade himself. All the pieces had to fit together, one way or another.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Severus said. "Of which room are you speaking?"

The boy hesitated an instant. What game was Severus trying to play?

"I'm talking about the room upstairs, the room with the green curtains and bed, and the rest of it. You know very well…"

But the professor continued to stare at him perplexedly. "I don't recall one of the rooms being furnished in green, but even so, what would that have to do with this?"

"You know very well what I want to talk about," Harry said exasperatedly, the tension making him nervous. "The old room. My mother's."

This time, Snape seemed literally flabbergasted. "What…?" His eyes were suddenly confused as he stood. "Show me," he said curtly.

Not asking any further questions, Harry got up and went out of the room, Severus right behind him. What did all of this mean? Why was he acting like he didn't know what Harry was talking about? He shook his head. They'd reached the door, and Snape still had that blank look in his eyes.

"I know I shouldn't have gone in," Harry tried to apologize, "but you told me I could go wherever I wanted."

Without a word, Snape pushed open the door and went in. He stopped short in the middle of the room, and Harry reluctantly followed him. What was going on? Snape was looking around the room, seeming as surprised as Harry himself had probably seemed. But no, Severus actually looked positively shocked. He walked to the dressing table, reaching out, then pulled his hand back before he could touch it. Unable to stop himself, Harry asked his question.

"This is really my mother's room, isn't it?"

He regretted his question, though, when Snape turned to him, looking as if he were hallucinating. "It's impossible," he said, his voice choked. "I wouldn't have…."

Frantic, he stiffly turned to the bookcase. After scanning its contents rapidly with his eyes, he grabbed a row of books and threw them to the floor, clearly forgetting Harry standing behind him. An instant later, he let out a small groan and pulled an oval object from the back of the bookcase.

A Pensieve, Harry noted, more and more intrigued now. Without paying him any mind, Severus pointed his wand toward the bowl, extracting the long silver filaments and guiding them toward his temple.

A moment afterward, he sat heavily on the bed as if his legs refused to support him any longer. His face wore a mixture of fatigue and resignation as he glanced about the room once again, but with no trace of surprise this time.

"Professor?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Only then did Snape seem to recall Harry's presence, and motioned for the boy to join him on the bed, patting the coverlet. The boy sat beside him, unable to decide if he should be worried or relieved.

Silence truly took on another dimension in this room, Harry thought. Something both peaceful and oppressive. He lost track of how many minutes passed before Severus finally began to speak.

"You're right, Harry, this room was your mother's," he said distractedly. "Everything you see here belonged to her."

"I don't understand," the young man said softly. "You told me she'd never come here?"

"I don't recall having said such a thing, but it's true. Lily never set foot in the Manor. Not a single time."

"But then how…"

"This is her furniture, Harry," Snape interrupted. "Only her furniture. What she had at home, when she still lived with her parents."

"But what is it doing here?" the boy pressed.

Severus took a moment to answer, as if he were recalling that memory.

"She asked me to keep it for her. It was after her parents' deaths. Petunia was about to be married, and she needed money, so she wanted to sell the house. Lily reluctantly agreed. She didn't have anywhere to leave her things, and she asked me to keep them for her, knowing I wasn't intending to sell my parents' house right away. We were very close at the time…but not for long. In any case, she never wanted to take them again. Or more precisely, we never spoke of it again."

"Still…" Harry gestured to the room, "…everything seems so…real. Alive. Like she really lived here."

At his side, Snape groaned softly. "I suppose I was…a bit overly optimistic, bringing this furniture here. I wanted her to have what she'd left behind if she decided to…but that was stupid, of course."

To come and live at the Manor. That was what Severus had meant to say. Harry was sure of it. Snape had hoped, but she'd never come back. Instead, she'd married James, and, it would seem, slept with Remus. And the room had remained at Snape Manor, unchanged.

He'd been right when he'd visited the room earlier: there was something cloyingly sweet and nostalgic here that made him want to cry. He didn't, of course, but instead, he leant over to stretch out on the bed, his head in Severus' lap.

He understood, and he knew Snape understood it too. And he'd been right about something else as well: he needed him. A hand rested on his head, gently caressing his hair.

"Everything here is yours, Harry. You can do what you like with it. I would've shown it to you sooner if I'd remembered it," Severus said softly.

"How could you forget this?" Harry murmured. But of course, he already knew the answer.

"Because I wanted to forget it," Snape answered. "By putting that memory in a Pensieve—the entire memory and not just the emotion of it. After Lily's death, I spent a great deal of time in this room."

Harry could imagine it. His eyes came to rest on the old turntable. "Do you really like those groups?"

"I liked to listen to them with her," Snape replied. He smiled at the memory of it. Lily doing rock dances. Oh, they'd danced—how many afternoons and nights? "But after a while," he continued, "this room became like a poison. I preferred to completely forget its existence."

If he'd had to hear Stairway to Heaven for a thousandth time, he'd have gone mad, he was sure of it. The record was scratched from having been played so much after Lily's death, and he himself had felt as worn out and damaged as the record as he listened to its notes.

"I understand," Harry murmured. "I miss her too, even if I didn't know her. I remembered what she smelled like, you know? When I opened the closet…her dresses."

Oh yes, Severus knew. It was Lily's perfume that had haunted him the most in this place. It was so hard to imagine she was gone when her scent still hung in the air.

"I didn't think I had any memory of her," Harry continued. "Besides, you know, when I hear her scream."

Severus' hand tensed on the boy's neck. "When you hear her scream?" he repeated.

"Yeah, when the Dementors are around… I hear it, the night when she was killed. It's sort of ironic that the Dementors manage to bring back the only memory I have of my mother, don't you think? Well, besides this smell now."

"Harry, I'm sorry," Snape murmured.

"Me too," the boy offered. "I didn't want to see your memories, you know, but I'm glad it happened. Because," he sat up to look in Snape's eyes, "it's much easier to understand this way. And I need to understand."

Severus nodded, both reticently and understandingly. Placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, he started to get up. "I think a good glass of Firewhisky would do me good. Maybe even two. What would you say to a butterbeer?"

Harry stood up, a big smile on his face. "Two for me as well, if that's all right with you."

An arm around the boy's shoulders, in a gesture that was becoming curiously familiar, Snape led them from the room and shut the door behind him.

Rest in peace, Lily, he silently prayed. And if possible, not in this room. This Manor doesn't need anymore ghosts…

Leaving the room and the storey behind them was a relief. The sitting room armchairs had never seemed so welcoming and comfortable, and Harry fell into one of them gratefully.

Merlin, he literally felt drained! And that fire in the grate was perfect, despite the time of year, just what he needed to purr peacefully and… Oh, this probably wasn't a good time to transform into the cat.

But then again….

With a leap, he jumped to Snape's lap and let himself slide limply against the wizard's robes. There, that was perfect, just like before when he'd just been Shadow and hadn't a care in the world.

"Dirty beast," Severus murmured, but his tone belied his words as his fingers petted the black fur.

Yes, everything seemed easier in this form, Shadow thought.

"You must stop working all the time, Shadow Snape. The world isn't about to collapse if you rest for a moment. Learn to trust adults."

Closing his eyes, the cat stretched out a paw. At that instant, it would've been so easy to agree….

"Albus was right about one thing," Snape continued. "You cannot be allowed to stay away from Hogwarts for too long just now, not with what happened with the Minister. It would be too risky. We're returning this evening."

His words completely roused Shadow, who returned to his chair to take his human form again.

"Professor, it's not necessary. I told Dumbledore I'd give him my answer tomorrow night."

"It'd be unwise to wait. If an Auror were to come to verify your presence at Hogwarts and you weren't there, your temporary guardianship could revert to the Ministry. And besides, I confess the prospect of remaining at the Manor tonight hardly inspires me."

On that point, Harry was in agreement. The discovery of the room had shaken him enough that a change in scenery was perfectly fine with him.

"It wouldn't bother you if I go back…later? To the room, I mean?" he asked.

"No, of course not. I'm not in a position to begrudge you that. On that subject, didn't we say Firewhisky and butterbeer?" Severus asked as he went for the bottles. And really, Harry decided, butterbeer was the perfect solution for an emotional day.

"Thanks, Professor," he said as he set down the bottle. "Didn't you say two butterbeers?"

Snape laughed softly as he held out the second bottle. "'Professor'? We're back to that again?"

"No!" Harry cried, surprised. "I wasn't paying attention. On the other hand…"

"Say what you have to say," Snape growled.

"Well, you've started calling him the Dark Lord again. You'd been saying Voldemort, though, recently."

Snape drummed his fingers on his glass as he thought. "Indeed, it's likely. I'll pay more attention to that in the future."

"Doesn't it bother you to say his name? You hated that before," Harry said.

"Saying the Dark Lord's name…Voldemort's, is a very bad idea when you're under his thumb. A flagrant lack of respect that's quickly punished."

"He has…he has ways of knowing those sorts of things?"

"Certainly,' Severus said bitterly.

"But that's not a problem for you since you've stopped spying, so why now?"

"Force of habit, I suppose. The man is certainly not my lord, dark or otherwise. That hated title is as underserved as it is pathetic. But that little stay in hell put certain things back into perspective, obviously."

"He's still your master in spite of everything, isn't he? Because of the Mark?" Harry asked. He saw Snape stiffen noticeably.

"It's not something you must concern yourself with. Those regrettable words on my part will not happen again. I only hope you'll reconsider using my first name."

"Sorry, Severus," Harry said with a smile. "I suppose that's force of habit as well." He finished his second bottle with a gulp. "And too, maybe I was sort of afraid you'd turn me out," he confessed quickly.

"Harry!" Snape cried, suddenly concerned. "No question of that! I know the last few days haven't been easy ones, but I can assure you…" That I never intended to show you the door? Not exactly true. But Harry didn't need to know that. "…that I've no intention of going back on my word. This is your home, for as long as you wish it."

"Even if my father…" The boy couldn't help but grimace. Talking about Remus wasn't going to be so easy. Merlin, all of it was going to sound so false…

"It's neither a question of your father, nor your mother, nor what others might think of our arrangement," Severus said dryly. "You are my cat, full stop. Is that clear in your head, young man?"'

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry replied with a big smile. "And you're my Man In Black."

"Oh, really?" Snape said, raising an eyebrow. The boy laughed, somewhat sheepishly.

"That's what I called you when, well, when I was just a cat. It seemed sort of appropriate."

"Indeed, wholly appropriate," Severus murmured.

"And you know, you look rather good in green. In your memories, I mean. Well, it's too bad that…that…" The professor's eyes had clouded over, and Harry felt he'd just treaded on a slippery slope.

"A second glass of Firewhisky is in order, after all," Snape said dully.

"I, um, can I have one as well?"

"At your age?" Severus asked suspiciously.

"I've already tasted it, you know. And I think it's just what I need right now."

"What you need is to end up on the floor? All right for this time," Severus said as he handed him a glass, "but this won't become a habit."

"No, not a chance," Harry muttered. "I've always hated drunks."

"Bad memories?" Snape asked.

"Yeah, right," he said reluctantly.

"Your uncle, I presume?"

"Uh-huh," the young man replied vaguely. The Dursleys had never been his favorite topic of conversation, and Vernon was definitely at the top of the list, right after articles in the Prophet, and the latest conquests in Draco Malfoy's love-life. But he caught Severus' eyes watching him, soberly and thoughtfully, and knew right away what he was thinking. Harry shuddered, recalling what he'd seen of the Potions master's childhood…and knowing all of that, it really wasn't fair or helpful to hold his tongue. Swallowing a mouthful of Firewhiskey, he barreled on.

"It wasn't so much that he was violent," he explained. "Well, yeah, of course, but not like…um. Anyway, he never managed to catch me when he'd been drinking. But he had this way of pounding on the walls and screaming at everyone…said some really, well…horrible things. You know, about my parents, how I was worthless, that sort of thing," he finished. "It was mostly his voice, and he seemed so enormous to me at the time. No, actually, he was really enormous, but back then, it seemed like he was one of those monsters that're supposed to live in cupboards and eat children. Except I was the one living in the cupboard, and to them, I was the freak," he said with a forced little laugh.

Snape shook his head. "And a cupboard certainly wouldn't seem a great refuge from that sort of ogre."

"No, not really," Harry murmured. "But most of the time, he forgot about me when he didn't see me. It was just that Dudley…when he was afraid of his dad, he'd remind Vernon to go take care of me."

"Vernon went after his son as well?" Snape asked in surprise.

"No, of course not. But he'd bellow and break everything he touched. He broke Dudley's telly once: a terrible scene…" He made a face. "When I was small, that terrified me. It was idiotic, because he was most dangerous when he was sober." Harry shrugged. "I suppose it's not important anymore. He's dead. No need to speak badly of him."

"Death doesn't absolve everything," Severus replied. "Just because he's disappeared doesn’t mean these events in your life will do the same. Your memories will just be less painful over time…but your reasons for being wary of alcohol are no less justifiable."

Harry contemplated the matter for a moment. "You know, it's rather odd to think that you're the one I trust, when it's you who's shouted at me the most since I've been at Hogwarts. Do you think I'm trying to reproduce the circumstances?"

He saw the professor wince. "I truly hope not," he said heavily. "Harry, I hope you're well aware I've no intention of hurting you, neither by my actions nor my words. It's unthinkable that I'd raise a hand to you. As for shouting…it's not something I can promise, knowing my temperament and yours, but I hope to keep that to an absolute minimum. My views on childrearing have nothing in common with those of your uncle and aunt, or my own parents, if that's what's worrying you."

"I'm not worried," Harry protested. "I know all of that. If you managed not to dissect me into pieces or throw me against a wall, back when you hated me, then I know you're not about to do it now. And you've protected me…"

"At the very least, I've tried. That won't stop me from giving you extra chores or lecturing you in my own way if it proves necessary. It's part of a parent's work, and I intend to carry that out as well. That's understood between the two of us?"

"As long as you don't demonstrate it with a belt, that's fine with me," the boy murmured.

At his words, Severus got up and went to him. "Come here," he said gently.

Without thinking, Harry pressed against him, his face buried in the black cloth. Ah, it felt good, yes…even better than when he was Shadow. And how could it feel so natural, when actually…. He couldn't recall having been comforted this way as a child.

"I'm happy he did it, you know," he said into the professor's shoulder, "otherwise I'd have never come here. And you wouldn't have…changed your mind."

"Stupid child," the professor murmured. "I'm also glad how this tragic story's turned out, but as for what that Muggle made you suffer… I'll never be sorry enough for not having taken care of him when I still had the chance."

"Not me," Harry replied. "I like that you had nothing to do with that. The Ministry might not have agreed for me to stay with you, if you had. And then, I don't want to be responsible for even more deaths. That's why he didn't want me to stay anymore, you know. Because of Marge."

At these words, Snape took the teenager by the shoulders and pushed him gently backward to look him in the eyes. "You realize you had nothing to do with that, don't you?"

"I…I suppose."

"Harry."

"I don't know, it's possible, you know, I hated her. There're always things that I…that I can't control, like Shadow."

"That's absurd," Severus said softly. "That woman had an automobile accident. Your uncle just needed an outlet for his anger, as unlikely as it was."

"He hadn't been drinking, that night," Harry pointed out. "Usually, he only said those sorts of things when he was pissed."

"Was he drunk when he made you believe your parents had died in a car crash, that you were abnormal, and all that other nonsense he put into your head?"

"No, but it made sense, you know…from their point of view. It was just when he drank…oh well, he said lots of hurtful things, but when he got angry and hadn't been drinking…that was even worse. And if he disciplined me, it was for things that'd really happened. Well, most of the time. I know it wasn't fair; there wasn't anything I could do about it, but for him, it made sense. So, Marge…"

"Marge's death was due to an ordinary road accident, Harry," Snape said. "Dumbledore assured me of that. It was neither Voldemort's doing, nor your own. Just an accident."

"It was…really?"

The relief was clear in the boy's eyes, and Severus cursed himself for not having thought to talk to him about this sooner. "Really," Snape said as he nodded. "And if this will reassure you, I very rarely drink. And like most Potions masters, I'm immune to the effects of alcohol in high doses."

"Well, not me, and that's all the better for tonight," Harry grumbled. "I feel like I'm being run over by a steamroller…or a herd of hippogriffs, if you'd rather."

"I know what a steamroller is," Snape clarified. "Did you think to pack your bags for Hogwarts while you were here? We'll be returning for dinner, if that's all right with you. I don't feel in the mood to cook, and I assume you feel the same way."

"I really like cooking here," the boy said, "but a dinner fixed by the elves will be fine for tonight. I only have a few things to take, so I'd just as soon do it now."

"Do that," Severus agreed, "and we'll go directly to Hogwarts. I think your friends will be relieved to see you back. It would appear they're not happy to have lost their Quidditch Captain again…and Albus also mentioned an accident in Potions class?"

Oh, Merlin.

"It's…I…actually, it wasn't exactly that, it just happened…"

"Yes?" Severus said, a trace of amusement in his voice.

"Well, obviously, cat fur doesn't mix well in the composition of all potions. Anyway, not in the one Ron was preparing."

"I see," the professor sighed. "And the consequences of this little experiment?"

"Nothing serious, really," Harry was quick to reply, "and nothing permanent. Really, it wasn't that dramatic."

"Nothing that would've earned you a detention if I'd been there?" Snape asked slyly.

"That doesn't count; you always give me detentions."

"Another thing that will have to change, I suppose," the professor said. "But no use hoping for preferred treatment in class, Mister Potter. I expect a veritable zeal in class from you, and I won't overlook the mistakes that I have here any longer."

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you to," Harry grimaced, as he emptied his glass of Firewhisky in a gulp. Merlin, it was really strong. "As long as you treat me just like any other Slytherin."

When Harry began to cough, unable to control the burning sensation in his throat, he thought he heard Severus laugh softly.

"Go get your bags ready, Salazaar, and meet me in the laboratory. I'm going to alert Albus of our arrival."

Before Harry had the time to find an indignant reply, the professor had gone, leaving Harry alone and choking in the middle of the sitting room. Merlin, it was humiliating; he'd drunk Firewhisky before this, though. He shot a dark look at the bottle. It was just a matter of getting used to it, was all. With a nimble gesture, he served himself another glass and drank it slowly.

There, it just took practice…sipping his whisky gingerly. And now, he felt completely up to the task of returning to Hogwarts. With his Man In Black. And let no one try to say a thing, because Snape was really a good person, the only one who could make him feel vulnerable and safe at the same time.

Hold on…was it all in his head, or was he now purring in his human form?

A few minutes later, he went back to the dungeons with the few items he'd neglected to take the time before. Some toiletries, a book, and…the photo that McGonagall had taken, carefully tucked into his robe pocket. He was ready, completely ready.

Severus was waiting for him in front of the fireplace, the green flames prepared for their departure.

"You'll be all right?" Snape asked as he saw the boy coming.

"Floo powder doesn't like me much, but I should get there," Harry replied.

Snape looked at him suspiciously, and opened his mouth to speak before changing his mind. A hand on the young man's shoulder, he stepped forward beside him, and then into the fireplace.

Floo travel seemed decidedly much more cooperative in the presence of a Potions master, and Harry entered the Headmaster's office on his own two feet, barely staggering.

His head was spinning in spite of himself—this bloody fireplace really had a grudge against him…and Merlin, it was hot in the office. But it was good to come back here with Severus at his side, so soon after their dramatic exit.

As if he'd been waiting, Dumbledore was there to welcome them, that perpetual, irritating little smile on his face. But he wasn't alone, Harry noticed. McGonagall was there as well, and Harry was overcome by a burst of affection for the witch who'd given him his photo. He'd really have to tell Severus what she'd told him; that would surely please him. He gave her a big smile as Severus stepped back slightly, dusting off his robes.

"Welcome home, my boys," the Headmaster said enthusiastically.

"Home is the Manor," Harry replied in his most serious tone. But his voice sounded much less dignified than he would've liked. Someone coughed in a corner of the room, and Harry squinted to try and see who it was. His vision seemed oddly blurry this evening. He lifted a hand to check that he was wearing his glasses, but this was a detail that would've been hard for him to forget. The figure that'd coughed took a few steps forward, and Harry recognized a slightly smiling Remus.

"Ah, you're here, " Harry grumbled.

"I hope I’m not intruding? I'd like to speak with Professor Snape," Lupin said softly.

"Oh no, you're not going to start that again!" Harry shouted. Behind him, he sensed Snape step closer and felt secretly reassured. Severus wasn't going to let him down now.

"Excuse me, Harry, I'm afraid I don't understand," the werewolf said.

"You're going to talk about me behind my back again, and that's not all right with me. Anyway, it's all been sorted out. I talked to Severus, and he's on my side, so it's not even worth it!" the boy said with determination. In front of him, the faces seemed more and more befuddled, starting with that of his father.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. I just wanted to discuss the new formulation of Wolfsbane with Professor Snape."

"Why not blame the potion!" the boy exclaimed, louder than he'd intended. "Do you take me for an imbecile?"

"Mister Potter," a cold voice said from behind him, "once again I must remind you that the world does not revolve around your little ego."

"You—you're on my side, remember?" Harry lashed out without turning. He had a very clear-cut intuition that pivoting on his heels at this exact moment would be a very bad idea for his equilibrium. "And anyway, Remus never bothers with me!"

The sulky tone of his voice elicited a smile from the Head of Gryffindor, but only made the new professor become even paler.

"Harry, I'm really sorry if you think I've deserted you recently, as I told you briefly, I really didn't have a choice. But now that I'm back…"

"It's too late now. It was when I was young that you should've been there. You're really pathetic," he flung out the insult, before getting hold of himself. Was it really he who'd just said that? But then again, it was truly deserved! "What reason do you have for abandoning me when I was a child? Another potion?"

Now that he thought about it, maybe his statement didn't make much sense. But he really didn't want to think. All the anger, and all the accumulated frustration over Remus wanted to come out now, and he had no desire to hold it in.

"Bloody hell, Harry, I never had the slightest chance of getting your guardianship; I thought you knew that. Werewolves don't have any legal standing, and think of the danger I would've represented for you," the professor tried to defend himself, obviously overwhelmed by the situation.

"But I don't care!" Harry wailed. "You didn't have to leave me with such horrible people! You should've checked! You should've found a way! Severus would've found one—he would've!"

Was it his imagination, or had Snape just sniggered.

"Harry, I think it best if we discuss this with cooler heads, but be assured that I'm sorry, more than you can imagine, for everything that's happened. If you'd only give me a second chance to—"

"No," the boy said dully, "it's too late, you're not my father anymore."

The silence that fell over the room seemed as thick and icy as a freezing fog.

"I…no, indeed," Remus finally said. "I'm afraid I've never been one."

"Exactly," Harry added, "and Severus was there for me, and protected me, and sang me lullabies, and came to look for me, and he's the one I'm choosing."

There was a choking sound behind him, something like a horrified chuckle that'd got stuck in a throat.

"Perhaps Firewhisky wasn't such a good idea, all things considered," Snape murmured, seeming torn between laughter and horror.

"You made him drink?" McGongall asked, outraged.

"A moment of distraction after a long day, but I suspect our little Gryffindor served himself another glassful for courage, after I left," Snape replied with dignity.

"Harry," Remus interrupted, "are you feeling all right?"

"Never better," the boy said, "and I'm sorry if I hurt you, but we really had to talk. Isn't that true?"

"Very true, very true, but I'm not certain I understood it all," the professor went on.

"But me, I understood it all, and no thanks to you! I had to spy! But actually, I didn't do that on purpose," he said with an apologetic look in Snape's direction. "I was walking in the corridors, in my cat form, and there was something following me…and I came into the Head…well, this office, in fact. Here. I hid and listened to you talking. And that's when you were talking about me, like usual, and how you were going to explain to me that I was your son. And that—that was honestly crappy," he said with a heavy look of reproach for Remus.

There was a little cry from the side of the room where McGonagall was, a groan from behind his back, and the Headmaster suddenly made chairs appear just behind Harry and Lupin, who was staring at the boy, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

A second later, the professor sat heavily in one of the chairs, while Harry, whose balance was increasingly betraying him, took one as well. He felt rather than heard Severus come to stand beside him, slightly to the back. He couldn't see him, and yet, Harry would've sworn he could feel the professor's emotions… A mixture of amusement, and anger, but not directed at him. All of it bathed in a vague awkwardness that intrigued Harry. He didn't have anything to worry about, bloody hell…

"Severus is all right with me staying with him," he announced, "and I don't want to go elsewhere. I know I’m a bit old to want parents, but Snape is really good at it. That's weird, eh? I would've never believed it either. But he doesn't hate me anymore, at least most of the time, and I'm his cat and he's my Man In Black, so it's simpler now. He's my father and I really love him."

Once again, he felt without seeing the wave of emotions sweep over the Potions master. A hand came to briefly squeeze his shoulder, and Harry smiled. Why had he thought this simple word so difficult to say? It was enough to just think very hard about what he felt, and then it was as simple as a hello!

"Harry, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," Remus said weakly, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Not for me," the boy answered, not inclined to let himself be interrupted. "Besides, he has a certificate of, um, I don't know anymore, but for Shadow. And I even have the medal to go with it, look!" he said as he proudly showed off the bracelet, with a big smile for Dumbledore. The Headmaster answered him with a nod, his deeply amused expression in direct contrast to the dismayed face of McGonagall at his side.

"Harry," Remus interrupted again, his voice stronger this time, "I'm not your father, by Merlin's beard!"

"You…what?" the boy replied. Lupin was really too obtuse; Harry couldn't follow him.

"I'm not your father, Harry. Well, what could've given you such an idea? You're the spitting image of James!" the professor cried.

"But that's not true, I look like my mother too, and she could've, I don't know, cast a spell…and it's very wicked that you slept with her, Remus! Honestly, what were you thinking?"

"Merlin, will you listen to me?" the werewolf barked, seeming to have increasing difficulty at remaining calm. "I-am-not-your-father, I've never been. Your biological father is James Potter, without any possible doubt, and whatever I think of Severus as an adoptive father, I'm well aware of never showing myself to be a credible father figure!"

Too many words. Far too many words. But, all the same…

"Did he just say that…" Harry stammered in Severus' direction, who came closer to kneel at his side, a tired smile on his face.

"No, Harry, you're not Remus Lupin's son," he confirmed gently. "Stupid child, where did you come up with such an idea?"

"But…but…you yourself told me earlier…" His head seemed to suddenly weigh a tonne, and he let it fall into his hands, knocking his glasses askew along the way. Severus carefully took them off and put them into his pocket. "I don't understand anything anymore," he finally confessed.

"Here's what happens to cats that are too curious," Snape answered in the same low voice, "and to self-centered young men. I think it's time to go to our rooms and eat a good meal. We'll discuss this later."

"Remus isn't my father, but you are?" Harry said pitifully.

"You've grasped the general idea," Severus agreed with a slight smile.

"Merlin, what did you have him drink?" McGonagall exclaimed from the other end of the room.

"Two butterbeers and a half-glass of Firewhisky, which surely didn't mix well with the calming potion. Especially if he helped himself to another glass before coming here," the Potions master replied.

"Just a glass to make sure," Harry mumbled. A distance away, he heard the Headmaster's familiar laugh.

"Perhaps a hangover potion would be in order, Severus," he suggested.

"No, I don't think so," the professor told him with a hint of irony. "Someone here has a lesson to learn on the subject of alcohol."

"I suspect our young friend will appreciate the true value of that when he's recovered his mind," Dumbledore chuckled.

"Oh, I think it will be memorable," Snape murmured as he stood. "Lupin, one last word for posterity?"

"I…" Taking a deep breath, Remus took his turn to stand and advanced a few steps toward the boy still slumped in his chair. "Harry, whatever you think of me, know that I truly did my best, and I'll continue to do so. We'll talk about this when you're feeling better…and I meant what I said when we talked before—don't forget that, you mustn't hesitate to come to see me. Understood?"

Giving up trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle in place, Harry nodded with a comforting smile. "All right, Remus. It's not important anyway. I have Severus."

"So I believe I've understood, yes," the werewolf growled. But this time, Harry didn't sense hostility in his voice.

"Very well, young man," Snape said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Off to the dungeons."

"I…I’m not entirely sure that's a good idea. Couldn't we go back to the Manor instead?" Harry struggled to say.

"Ah, the dungeons, distant and hostile territory," Snape said idly. "Transform yourself, alley cat, I don't want you to be seen in the castle in this state. Merlin, what splendid fuel for fodder."

Gratefully, the teenager quickly took his feline form, and let his master pick him up, before nestling comfortably into his robes. Snape was definitely the most pleasant way to travel that Harry'd ever known. He gave himself over to the rocking motion of the professor's agile footsteps, digging his claws voluptuously into the black cloth.

As he succumbed to the fuzzy fog that'd been threatening to engulf him for several minutes, he seemed to hear a female voice from far away.

"Severus, pinch me. Am I dreaming, or is he really suckling at your robes?"

"Personally, I'd be more curious to know what happened to his tail… Albus, any idea on that question?"

Oh, Merlin. More trouble.