Chapter Thirty-seven: Curiosity Killed the Cat

"No."

"Harry…"

"Not a chance."

"I'm counting to three."

"You can count to a hundred-thousand if it amuses you, I'm not moving!"

"Enough childishness, you can't hide here until the end of time; you have five seconds to come out!"

"I thought it was three?"

With a groan of exasperation, Snape flung the door open wide before striding purposefully into the room. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the spectacle of the boy, or rather what he could see of him, rolled up tight in a ball in his coverlet, hiding behind the bed.

"That's enough, Potter. Get up, this comedy's gone on long enough. It's high time to show your glorious person in public."

"Tell me I was dreaming," the boy moaned beneath his coverlet. "That it was just a terrible nightmare!"

"If you feel well enough to claim that was the case, I have no objection. Lupin, on the other hand…" A horrified groan stopped him as the mound of blankets tried to hide farther behind the bed. At the end of his patience, Snape lifted his wand and aimed at the coverlet, which rose up in the air, quickly snatched back by two hands clenching it with all their might.

"No! Leave me alone!"

Snape watched the battle between the piece of cloth and the teenager for a moment, before shaking his head in amusement.

"And if I were to suggest a headache potion?"

This time, a tuft of black hair emerged from the mound of fabric, followed by a pair of green eyes, reddened with dark circles under them.

"You'd do that?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"After we've had a little discussion, certainly," Snape answered smoothly. The head disappeared again.

"I knew it was a trap. You always set traps. And don't shout so much, Merlin, my head's about to explode."

"I've not yet started to raise my voice, Potter, but that could very well happen if you don't quickly choose to act in a civilized manner," Severus replied, his voice full of menace.

"How could I've got myself in such a mess?" the boy moaned without budging an inch. "It's still your fault, all of it!"

"Oh really?" Snape sneered. "And might I know how?"

"I don't know yet," Harry ground out, "but it's always your fault, this sort of thing. "Would an Obliviate be possible?" he suddenly asked with a gleam of hope.

"Not a chance. Now, get up. This is my last warning."

"Not a chance either," Harry told him, burying himself under the coverlet again.

The answer was as rapid as it was laconic. Lifting his wand, Snape spoke the incantation evenly. "Aguamenti."

A downpour of water dumped onto the pile of blankets and its occupant, who let out a hoarse cry. And instant afterward, a damp black cat took off at top speed, hissing and spitting, fleeing through the open door of the room, leaving a Potions master with a small satisfied smile. Who'd ever said that getting a teenager to obey was complicated? All that remained was to convince the cat to come out from under the wardrobe or whatever other place it'd chosen to hide under to express its unhappiness. But for that, he had the remedy.

"Shadow, how about a tin of tuna?" he directed at the pair of furious green eyes shooting lightning bolts from beneath the settee. An unhappy growl answered him.

"That's enough, Harry, come out from there! You must face the reality of the situation sooner or later. This isn't the sort of reaction I expect from you."

The remarks seemed to hit their mark, and the cat's green eyes disappeared, before reappearing several seconds later on the face of the boy behind the settee. His face tense, clearly struggling with a serious headache, he fell onto the cushions.

"I really don't feel like being brave this morning, but I suppose you're right; no way to get out of it," he sighed. "Merlin, this was your fault—why did you let me drink like that? You're turning out to be a fine guardian—congratulations!"

"You sound just like Minerva," Snape said indignantly as he crossed his arms on his chest. "It this a feline trait, blaming someone else for what is your own fault, or just a Gryffindor tendency?"

"Probably a feline trait," Harry admitted, burying his head in his arms. "But didn't you say something about a potion and it reacting badly with alcohol?"

"I must admit the effect was rather unexpected," Severus said. "But I doubt the quantity of alcohol you consumed in my presence was sufficient to produce it."

"Obviously not," the boy murmured. "Maybe I was a bit…well, it's possible since I had another glass after you left. Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry; it was stupid, but I needed a healthy dose of courage to go back and…I don't know what came over me."

"Courage? And who could've led you to believe that, only for an instant, you could find courage using alcohol?" Snape inquired.

"Not unheard of, it's like…like…oh, I'll think of the word when my brain's back in place. I just didn't want to feel so anxious. And yeah, I know, it was stupid and I regret it—are you happy now?"

"No, not entirely," the professor answered, "but first, breakfast."

"Give me a break here, you're a Potions master; you have to have a better idea than that."

The pleading green eyes seemed so much like the cat's in that instant, that Snape almost had to smile. But no, this wasn't the time for it.

"You're a bit cheeky this morning, I see," he said slowly without giving any ground. "Breakfast first, followed by a potion on a full stomach. Last evening was proof enough of how sensitive you are to potions. Take a shower, get dressed and meet me in the dining room. And no complaining," he added.

"Yes, master," the teenager grumbled as he headed for the bathroom. Snape couldn't help but roll his eyes again, not even trying this time to hide a small smile when the boy was out of sight.

This was going to be a long day…a very long day, but he was fairly certain that his future adoptive son would no longer seek courage from a bottle of whisky. In any case, not today, and he was going to need a serious dose of it to face what awaited him.

When Harry came into the dining room several minutes later, he seemed slightly more relaxed and awake, but his eyes studiously avoided the Potions masters'. Without a word, he sat at his place.

"Sorry, I'm supposed to be taking care of breakfast," he muttered in between two slices of toast.

"I prefer my toast un-charred and my coffee drinkable, but I appreciate the thought," the professor replied.

"Oh, I've got much better with cooking spells recently," the boy protested.

"I don't doubt it. This morning, however…"

Harry went back to his plate again. No use denying that his cooking abilities would've probably been markedly affected by this buzzing in his head, and besides…

"What time is it?" he asked, noting that the professor was taking time for a cup of coffee.

"Past eleven," Snape replied calmly without looking up from his newspaper.

"What? You let me sleep all that time?" Harry choked out.

"After the…let's call it, emotionally charged day of yesterday and the events at the end of the evening, I thought it wouldn't do any harm to let you sleep. I confess that I myself did not get up early this morning."

"Oh. But you have a better excuse than me," Harry began, before setting his cup down. "Hey, didn't you say something about a potion?"

Snape lifted an ironic eyebrow. "A potion, really? For what, then?"

"Very funny," Harry grumbled. "For my horrible headache—this brain that feels like it's swollen and wants to makes my skull explode, and this pounding in my temples, would be a good place to start."

Severus laughed softly. "Is that all? How the devil could you've managed all those symptoms at the same time?"

"By drinking too much alcohol and a stupid potion that didn't mix well with it, if you want to know," Harry wailed, at the end of patience. "Could I have my potion now?"

"Tsk, tsk, such testiness so early in the morning…from the alcohol, let's say. How old are you exactly, Mister Potter?" Snape enquired, without making a move for a potion.

"Sixteen," Harry grumbled, burying his head in his hands, his headache worsened by his little outburst.

"Sixteen," Severus repeated slowly. "Old enough, then, to drink firewhisky?"

"That's what I thought," the boy moaned, "and I was wrong, all right? I swear I won't touch the vile stuff again until I’m of age, at least."

"At least? I suppose an occasion such as a seventeenth birthday would merit a good bottle of firewhisky. Preferably, bottoms up."

At his words, Harry felt his stomach heave.

"You're a sadist," he replied, holding back a hiccough. "I suppose I'll take a glass on occasion, on a night out with friends, or a stupid reception, but not more than a glass, and not before…well, I promise you, not for a long time."

The boy's slightly green coloring was enough to convince Snape.

"What about a spicy cocktail, like the ones the Weasley twins are so fond of?" he asked.

"Stop, for pity's sake, no more talk of alcohol today," Harry said as he pushed his bowl away, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, all right, I was really stupid. I didn't think that stuff was so strong. I like butterbeer well enough, but it's never affected me like that. I really don't know what I was thinking. It was ridiculous. Oh, Merlin, I was ridiculous," he said, laying his forehead against the table.

"And that's an understatement," Snape said as he set a potion in front of him. Harry took it gratefully, then gulped it down without making a face.

Relieved, he set down the phial and sighed. "Better. Much better. Thanks, Severus," he said with a grateful look. But the professor was still staring at him with those unfathomable eyes, without making a move. "That's not all, is it?" Harry asked, feeling a knot form in his stomach. Had he really thought he'd get away with this so easily? With Snape? Big mistake…

"No, that's not all," the professor finally said. "I think there're several points that must still be discussed; the first being, Harry, that I must be able to trust you when I leave you alone at the Manor. Yesterday, it was a simple glass of firewhisky, but what will happen on the day you think you need a potion?"

"I'll ask you for it," the teenager answered honestly.

"And if it's a potion that you know perfectly well I'd not approve of?"

"I…" Harry stopped. It wasn't a stupid question. "The potions phials aren't labeled, so I don't think I'd risk it," he replied.

"I've not lost hope that the day will come when you'll recognize a potion by its appearance or odor," Snape retorted sarcastically. "And what will happen on that day when you find the potion you need?"

"I've never thought about it," Harry said as he shook his head. "Just the idea of going through your potions is rather frightening, in fact. But really, I can't imagine myself doing that behind your back, especially knowing you'd disapprove of it. I'm not stupid, all right? I know you do what's best for me. And I know you trust me. I just hope I'll never be desperate enough to do that sort of thing, because right now, just the idea seems horrible to me."

Once again, Snape nodded. "That's what I was hoping to hear. I don't intend to forbid you access to the laboratory or my stocks, that's understood. And I'll take care in the future to correctly label potions you might need in my absence. However, I want you to keep in mind that those that are not labeled are not for your use, and that appearances are very often deceiving, and that a completely ordinary-looking potion can be very dangerous. Understood?"

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "Professor, I never intended to do that sort of thing. I'm sorry you think so; it really wasn't my intention, I mean…I just wanted to make sure I could drink firewhisky without choking. It's stupid, I know, but I didn't even think about how I was doing it in secret when I did it," he explained pitifully.

"I hope so, Harry," Snape said gently. "That little scene last night was especially pathetic, but I'll admit I was more worried over losing your trust, or having to doubt you."

"No, no," Harry replied quickly, "that's not it, I promise. I trust you and…really, you're the first person I'd come to talk to if I had a problem. Don't take it like that, please?"

Snape nodded, clearly satisfied. "Understood. I don't want you to hesitate over asking me anything, Harry. Even if it's something that's not feasible, I want us to be able to talk about it."

"Thanks," the boy said. "Really. That means a lot to me. And, er, I won't touch firewhisky again, that's for sure."

"One good thing," Severus answered, smiling slightly. "Let's move on to the embarrassing situation afterward."

"Oh Merlin," Harry said, hiding his face in his hands. No, he definitely wasn't going to get out of this one so easily. Having a guardian had its drawbacks. After all, only a few months ago, he would've got away with a few friendly jokes from Gryffindor, and possibly a lecture from McGonagall. But certainly not a heart-to-heart that made him want to shrivel up in his chair and disappear through the floor.

"What exactly do you remember of that little scene last night in the Headmaster's office?" Snape asked sternly.

"Too much," Harry said grumpily. "Remus, mainly, and that story about…er. Basically."

"Correct," Severus said pointedly. "Any questions on the matter?"

The teenager looked up thoughtfully. Questions? He'd made a fool of himself by claiming to be Remus' son and throwing all sorts of horrible accusation in his face. He'd been so sure of himself…so sure.

"Wait a second," he said as he wrinkled his forehead. "I'm missing something. I did hear Remus talking to Dumbledore about his son, in his office, and even you admitted he had one!"

"Precisely," Snape said.

"But if it's not me, then who?"

Severus sat for a few seconds, watching Harry with a mocking look on his face. "You haven't the slightest idea? Think a bit," he suggested. "Whom has Lupin been trying to protect from the start?"

"Protect? I don’t' see…except maybe…no!" Harry burst out, his breath short and his eyes bulging. "It can't be that?"

"That, or more precisely, him, Loki," the Potions master replied calmly. "Lupin's favorite new problem."

"You don’t' mean…Merlin, but what does that mean? I thought Loki was on Voldemort's side?" Harry exclaimed.

"He is," Severus admitted somberly. "But you must first understand that Loki isn't actually an ordinary wizard, and that he didn't grow up with his father. In reality, he was raised in very odd circumstances, and he and Lupin only met each other very recently."

"But I don't understand," the boy objected, "how Remus could've abandoned his son? That's just not like him."

"Harry, Lupin wasn't aware he had a son until a short time ago," Snape answered gently. "He's still having a great deal of trouble facing the situation."

"And who's his mother?" Harry asked, still shocked. Across from him, he saw Severus stiffen imperceptibly.

"For that, you must ask your friend, Lupin. It's not for me to speak of his affairs."

"That's still what you're doing," the boy pointed out.

"After the fiasco of last night, Lupin requested that I be the first to talk to you about this particular information," Severus replied. "I can't say that I don't understand."

At his words, Harry felt the shame, which had briefly been put off by astonishment, fall heavily on his shoulders. "Oh Merlin," he said, sinking back in his chair. "It's simply horrible. I was horrible. And everything I said about…oh, Merlin."

"You're remembering it better now?" Snape asked, his voice threatening.

"A bit. I really don't want to get into it, that being said," Harry replied.

"That's truly a shame," the professor continued firmly, "because that is still what is going to happen."

Harry sat up straighter, worried. "What do you mean?"

"That I'm not going to allow you to put all of this aside and pretend nothing happened, or let you hide your head in the sand. You made a decision last night; you will have to suffer the consequences."

The professor's dangerous tone of voice made Harry start. "How exactly?" he asked.

Snape slowly got up and crossed the dining room, then took a basin from a sideboard. Holding it firmly in his hands, he went back to Harry and placed it on the table in front of him.

"This way," he said calmly.

Harry felt his blood freeze. No, he really didn't want to… "I have to look in the Pensieve?" he asked weakly.

Severus nodded, not speaking a word.

"But I…I remember well enough; I don't think this is necessary," he said defensively. Unsuccessfully.

"I think it is," the professor ground out. "As soon as you feel ready, and keep in mind what you've just learnt."

Oh, Merlin. "And if I'm never ready?" he tried, without hope.

"I'll be extremely disappointed," Snape replied, staring at him with his hard, black eyes.

An expression that Harry didn't like to see on that face. It really was effective blackmail, he thought. But that hardly left him with any choice. Sighing, he leant into the Pensieve, and watched apprehensively as the Headmaster's office formed around him.

His sensational entrance…the way he'd attacked Remus, and the man's confused face…

"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!"

Uh-oh.

"You're on my side, remember?"

No, he hadn't really talked to Snape that way, had he? With such authority and so sure of himself? And Snape'd had nothing to say? But the expression on his face—a mixture of surprise, amusement, and a definite trace of irritation.

All the accusations he'd thrown at Remus, who seemed more and more dejected with each one, all the while trying to make himself heard. And to realize that all that time, he was thinking of Loki. And Harry, accusing Remus of being a bad father, of having abandoned him, of not having done anything…

"Severus is all right with me staying with him," he babbled in the Pensieve, "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."

Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin. He felt his mind struggle with the scene he'd just witnessed; he'd not really made that sort of declaration, there, in the middle of the Headmaster's office, in front of everyone? He hadn't said that to Severus, he who was so discreet when it came to his feelings? He couldn't have…oh no!

And McGonagall's absolutely outraged expression, the Headmaster's amusement, Remus' confusion, and Snape's obvious annoyance despite his words…no, no, no, it was too, too pathetic, too humiliating, too everything! And yet, he'd felt so good at that moment, comforted by Snape's soothing words, when he'd taken him in his arms in his cat form.

Oh. Oh no. He hadn't actually…oh yes. He'd really suckled at Snape's robes. Snape's. And his tail had suddenly become green again, and Severus had seen it, and McGonagall, and Dumbledore, and Remus.

This time, he was sure he was going to die of shame. He could remember that Snape had carried him to the dungeons, fed him and had him transform, then changed his pyjamas and led him to bed, where he'd miserably collapsed. The professor had probably even had to tuck in the covers himself, because he didn't remember having done it. Oh, Merlin.

The image in the Pensieve had long since ended, but Harry hadn't managed to convince himself to open his eyes again. He felt something warm pressed into his hands, and the powerful aroma of coffee drifted up.

"Take that, and I'll give you another potion," Snape said gently.

With difficulty, Harry decided to open his eyes, but kept them carefully riveted on the cup. No way, never ever, would he look Snape in the face again.

"Your day today is free," the professor continued, "but I think it'd be nice if you paid Lupin a visit."

Harry felt his throat constrict. "I…I don't know if that's a good idea."

"I doubt the matter will come up," Snape replied dryly. "Even if your words were fueled by alcohol, you nonetheless owe Lupin an apology." Gently but firmly, he took Harry's chin in his hand to force him to look up. "You're my responsibility, and I can understand your outburst of last night. Lupin, on the other hand, need not tolerate your lack of tact and respect."

Because you're my son, and not his, Harry read in the professor's dark look. And strangely, that seemed logical. He smiled weakly.

"I'll try."

"That won't be enough," Severus answered.

"I…"

"Harry. I can accept taking a drunk teenager into my rooms, but not that you don't take responsibility for your actions. I've already apologized to Lupin, and I don't expect any less from you. Besides, Lupin is waiting for you to visit him today."

"You…you apologized? But why?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"For the poor conduct and inappropriate speech of my son," Severus replied, making sure of every word.

Harry felt his stomach knot. He didn't deserve so much, not after what he'd done last night. Unable to bear Severus' eyes any longer, he pulled away, and the hand holding his jaw did the same, albeit regretfully.

"I'll do it," Harry said as he got up. "I…I'd like to see Ron and Hermione first. Do you think I could go up to Gryffindor tower?"

"I imagine they're in the Great Hall just now. I must go down there myself. Take the Floo to your common room—I'll alert Minerva and your friends that you're in lion country," Snape said casually.

"Good. See you later, then," Harry replied. Without waiting for an answer, he took off for the fireplace, not stopping until he was in front of one of the comfortable red Gryffindor armchairs, where he collapsed.

Never in his life had he felt so deeply ashamed. He'd already got himself into some particularly embarrassing situations before, but never to this degree, and never in the presence of people who cared for him so much. He'd hurt Remus, and attacked Snape's pride, just when the man was deciding to accept him as a son. He'd spoilt everything, once again. He really had to make his apologies to Remus, and truly, he was late in doing so…but after that, he was only asking one thing: to be able to bury himself in his bed in the Gryffindor dorm, and never come out again.

Harry'd been thinking gloomy thoughts for a few minutes when the portrait opened to show two familiar faces: with a cry of happiness, Hermione jumped over to hug him, followed by Ron, who came to perch at his side on the arm of the chair.

"Already back? With all the rumors going around, we didn't think we'd see you so soon," Ron teased.

"Rumors? Again? Like I need those," Harry grumbled.

"Harry, did Snape really spirit you away and take you to a hiding place guarded by dragons in Albania?" Hermione asked in her most serious tone of voice.

"What? Of course not. I was just at the Manor, and willingly! Who started those ridiculous stories?"

"Started, I don't know, but I can tell you who spread them. Malfoy seems to have a serious grudge against Snape recently," Ron said. "But the important thing is you're back; we have a practice tomorrow evening, remember? The Slytherins have put their team together, and honestly, I don't think they'll be hard to beat, but the Ravenclaws, on the other hand…"

"Really, Ron, there're more important things than Quidditch," Hermione told him sharply. "What happened, Harry? I thought you were supposed to stay at Hogwarts, under Ministry orders until further instructions."

"There was a little incident with Snape, and we preferred to go home for a while," Harry cautiously tried to explain. "But we're back for good, at least I hope so."

"Nothing serious?" Hermione asked soberly.

"Nothing I can talk about, no. Except that…" Harry sighed. If there were two people to whom he could talk about his misadventures of the night before, it was Ron and Hermione. "I did something horrible yesterday. And now, I have to apologize to Remus, and probably Snape as well, when I'm done. Believe me, firewhisky isn't near as much fun when you're drinking it by yourself," he said bitterly.

As he expected, Ron burst out laughing. "Oh Merlin, you have to tell me about this! But not until I call Fred and George—they'll want to know everything."

"No, absolutely not. I don't even know if I should tell you, but…promise me you'll keep it a secret, all right? It's really important."

"Harry, if you're not sure it's all right to talk about it, maybe it'd be better not to," Hermione suggested.

"Are you daft?" Ron exclaimed. "If Harry wants to talk to us about it, it's because he has good reason to. And he knows very well we won't say anything anyway. We're listening, mate."

Harry sighed.

"It's not just that I want to talk about it; it might be important. It's about Loki and Remus. And firewhisky, yeah," he added bitterly.

It took but a few minutes to summarize the scene that'd taken place in the Headmaster's office, leaving Hermione horror-stricken and Ron hilarious.

"Oh Merlin, I'd have loved to see Snape's face when you told him to shut up and agree with you," Ron laughed.

"No, the most important part of it is Loki," Hermione agreed. "Harry, it's horrible. And you're sure Loki's on Voldemort's side?"

"Outside of the fact he tried to kill me?" the young man asked. "Yeah, Hermione, I'm certain of it, and Severus as well. But Remus, he was livid when he learned that Loki had attacked us, and that Snape defended me. He was worried about his son, not me. That's why he thanked Severus," he suddenly realized aloud, "because he didn't kill Loki when he had the chance. Severus was furious."

"He had reason to be," Ron added. "Can you imagine—the son of a Hogwarts professor tries to kill you! It's hard for me to believe that someone like Remus could let one of his children turn out so badly."

"That's really not what happened; apparently, Remus had just learnt he had a son. And Severus said something odd about that…" That he'd played a part in his conception, Harry remembered. But this wasn't something he wanted to share with his friends. That was between him and Severus. "Doesn't matter," he said. "Anyway, I have to be doubly wary of this thing, this Animagus, or whatever. Because Remus for sure won't protect me from him."

"This must be a terrible dilemma for him," Hermione agreed. "I can't imagine what he must be feeling; he's very fond of you, Harry, and your accusations last night must've hurt him a great deal," she chided.

As if he needed to hear that…

"I know, Hermione. I intend to go and talk to him. You have class with him, coming up, don't you? How are classes going, by the way?"

"Rather well, but Remus seems much more distracted than he was in third year. I understand better why now," Hermione said.

“Really, nothing’s simple when it comes to family,” Harry sighed.

"Oh, it seems really simple to me," Ron replied. "A too-protective mother, a father who collects Muggle artifacts, too many brothers to remember everyone's first names, a few pretentious morons, a little sister who can't decide which boy to go out with, and hideous jumpers. Yeah, rather simple," he said with a big smile, making his two friends laugh out loud.

"At my house, it'd be toothbrushes instead, horrible cousins, and maniac parents!" Hermione added.

"And for me, a Slytherin Potions professor and tins of tuna, but I'm not complaining," Harry said with a smile. Nodding their heads in concert, his two friends looked at him intently, as if the idea of Harry's situation with Snape suddenly seemed conceivable to them. The conversation started up again naturally, and Harry felt the weight of guilt and shame fade away in the course of their joking.

"We're going to have to go," Hermione finally said, glancing at the large clock above the fireplace. "Do you want us to leave a message with Professor Lupin for you?"

Harry groaned softly. "Yeah, tell him I'll come to see him in his office after class. Might as well deal with it as soon as possible, I guess."

"Wise decision. Apologies are like Howlers: the longer you wait, the worse it is," Ron announced sagely. "Oh, there's a package of Chocolate Frogs waiting for you on your bed. One of the girls on the team wanted to thank you; McGonagall checked—they're not poisoned."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered. "Now I'm going to have to check everything I eat that's not from the kitchens, like I need more paranoia."

"Sorry, but look on the bright side: you got Chocolate Frogs!" With a last pat on the shoulder from Ron, and another admonition to be careful from Hermione, his two friends left the common room, leaving Harry alone.

A bit too alone, he thought after a few minutes of dwelling on his thoughts. Bloody hell, when was he going to be allowed to go back to classes? There was the matter of his powers, of course, but he'd have to talk to Severus about that. Except that for now, he sort of wanted to avoid the professor…give things time to settle, time to see things more clearly. Time to find a way to make Snape proud of him. Obviously, making up for last evening wasn't going to be easy.

First off, he'd have to start with Remus. But classes wouldn't be over for a good two hours, and what was he supposed to do while he waited? Revising would've been the ideal idea, but all his belongings and Hermione's notes were still downstairs with his trunk, in the room Severus had given him. He shot a glance at the clock; it still wasn't very late, and Snape had said he had to talk with McGonagall. Maybe he hadn't got back yet? It was worth a try, he decided.

Using the Floo powder again, he called out his destination. The green flames had barely appeared when his suspicions were confirmed. Severus wasn't there. He wasn't able to say how he knew, but he didn't sense his presence there. Feline instinct, he supposed, as he passed through the flames, only to be quickly propelled out onto the carpet of the sitting room. For sure, even over short distances, the Floo hated him…

Not bothering to dust himself off, Harry headed for his room. Seeing the furnishings he'd transfigured with Severus' help, the young man couldn't help but smile. He'd only spent one night here, but he already had pleasant memories. Groaning, he rushed for his trunk sitting in the corner. Most of his clothes were there, far too many for him to wear them all. Severus hadn't technically overdone it…but two uniforms, several shirts, sweaters, trousers and underwear were enough. He rummaged in a bag holding his class supplies, and with one last look around the room, got ready to turn on his heels.

But something wasn't right, he could sense it. Something was coming, or rather, someone: Severus! He was there, just outside, Harry was sure of it. Seized by a sudden panic, Harry took off at a run for the fireplace, his bag on his shoulder. The door was opening when he threw the handful of powder, and he had just enough time to hurtle into the flames, but not quickly enough to miss hearing the professor call out to him.

Heart pounding, he took the stairs to the dormitory four at a time. Merlin, he was stupid…fleeing from Snape. That wasn't like him, or at least not anymore, in any case. He knew he had nothing to fear, obviously, but there was something unbearable about the idea of facing his new guardian so soon, a totally uncomfortable feeling, any way he looked at it. But the worst, he realized, was that Severus had just seen him escape right out from under his nose. When it came to courage, he'd certainly seen better before.

Vaguely frustrated and discouraged, Harry set his bag next to his bed, and stretched out, trying in vain to think of something else. Positive, he had to think positive…Hedwig! He could go see her this evening if Ron and Hermione went with him. He'd missed the owl's presence at the Manor. If he promised Severus not to use her to send post, maybe he'd allow him to take her the next time?

Depending, of course, on his being able to face Severus again one day. "He's my father and I really love him." The words still made his face flush, even though he'd already gone over the scene a dozen times in his head. Never again, never again firewhisky.

Harry grabbed a Quidditch magazine lying on Ron's bedside table and began to catch up on the latest teams' news. He doubted that winning the Quidditch Cup would make him rise terribly in Snape's estimation, but at that instant, he dreamt of nothing better than flying for hours on his Firebolt, hair blowing in the wind. And especially, as far away as possible.

Time passed too slowly, minutes stretched out forever in the silence of the dormitory, until finally, two out of breath teenagers ran into the room.

"Harry, Professor Lupin said he's waiting for you in his office if you want to see him. Is everything all right?" Hermione asked as she tried to catch her breath.

"Everything's fine. I'm going to see him now, thanks, Hermione," the boy replied.

"Hey, mate, you moving back in here?" Ron asked as he noticed Harry's bag by the bed.

"Yeah, if it's all right with Snape," Harry answered, slightly annoyed.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione began. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, not only your safety, but after all that's happened as well…"

"Exactly," Harry said firmly. "It's time for me to have a bit of space. It's beginning to get…I don’t know."

"Too much pressure?" Hermione suggested sympathetically.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry admitted.

Ron, though, seemed vaguely relieved…and satisfied. "That's perfect; we'll be able start off by going out—" he stopped at Hermione's murderous look.

"Out of the question! And whatever, it's time to go—we're going to miss Potions. Harry, can I trust you not to get into trouble?" the girl asked him severely.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm going down to see Remus—that's all."

"In that case, we'll go with you. No going off on your own, remember?"

"Okay, let's go. Not a good time to get Slughorn cross with you. For the first time a Potions professor likes us," Harry sighed.

"I've a feeling the former one doesn't hold much against you now, though; am I wrong?" Ron asked with a laugh as he went down the staircase.

"Up until now, no," Harry agreed, "but after last night, I don't know anymore."

"I really don't see why you're worried about it, Harry," Hermione said, amazed. "It doesn't seem as if Professor Snape's cross with you. He stood up for you and gave you a lecture this morning—all rather normal for a parent."

"And how am I supposed to know that sort of thing?" Harry grumbled. "Hermione, drop it, will you? It's complicated."

"Yeah, so I see," the girl replied gently, quickly squeezing his arm before continuing on her way to Remus' office.

Once in front of the office door, the three friends looked worriedly at each other for a moment.

"You'll be all right?" Ron asked.

"Sure," Harry sighed, annoyed. Why did everyone feel they had to ask him that question at every turn? "Go on, thanks for coming with me. I'll see you after class, I suppose."

His two companions nodded.

"Be brave," Hermione said, her voice full of compassion as they went on their way. With a last wave, they disappeared at the end of the corridor. Harry hesitated for an instant as he stared at the heavy wooden door. It had never seemed so forbidding before. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his courage, and knocked.

"Come in," the familiar voice called out. The knot in his stomach suddenly tighter, Harry obeyed.

"Ah, Harry," the professor said, relieved, as he saw him come in. Relieved, but nevertheless tense, the boy noted.

"Professor," he began.

"Remus, please," Lupin interrupted him. "That formality isn't necessary, Harry. Please, sit down."

"No, I…don't need to. I won't bother you for long." Merlin, no, certainly not. At that moment, he could understand the need he'd felt for an extra dose of courage. Certainly not firewhisky, though.

"You're not bothering me, you see. Your friends said you wanted to talk to me?" the werewolf encouraged him.

"Listen, Remus, I'm really sorry. For last night, for everything," Harry began, having trouble looking the man in the eyes. The glimmer of suffering he saw in them didn't help matters. If only Severus had been there to help him, like last night.

"I understand, Harry, and I appreciate your apology. The situation was in the least unusual," Remus said gently.

"I shouldn't have been drinking," Harry went on, more and more desperate, "and I should've come to talk to you about that another time. Not like that, in front of everyone…and everything I said…it was awful."

Remus sighed. "I understand your reasoning, after the conversation you overhead, Harry. And I can also understand you felt betrayed by my desertion."

Harry felt his heart pound hard in his chest. "I didn't have any right to accuse you; it was stupid and spiteful," he offered. "I don't know what I was thinking. I really believed…it was totally ridiculous. And inappropriate."

"Let's not talk about it anymore," Remus said dismissively. "Did Severus have time to talk to you this morning?"

"Um, yeah. He told me about Loki. I'm sorry for that as well, Remus. It must be horrible for you."

"It's certainly not an easy situation," the professor sighed. The defeat and weariness were so clear on his face and in the slump of his shoulders, that Harry felt a flash of pity for the wizard.

"I wasn't thinking about what I said last night, you know," he hurried on to say. "I'm sure you're a great father. To Loki, I mean." Merlin, he was starting all over again. Harry could feel his face flushing once more. He needed mercy, whatever, a miracle, an attack from Voldemort—only let someone get him out of here!

"Oh, I doubt that," Remus replied bitterly, not noticing Harry's discomfiture. "For now, it's rather difficult to communicate. Just a few months ago, I didn't know I had a son, and now, I don't want to think it's too late, but it's very difficult. Loki doesn't really need me in his life."

"Maybe he just doesn't know it yet," Harry answered. Remus smiled weakly.

"It's odd, but it's really rather encouraging to see the relationship you and Severus have developed. I won't hide from you that I was more than skeptical at first, but to see the two of you together… I tell myself that maybe it's not totally impossible with Loki. My own son hates me, but I can't hold that against him, and if you and Professor Snape were able to reach this level of understanding, then it's all right to dream," he said thoughtfully.

Harry was dumbfounded. Was Remus referring to the scene of last night? He'd spoken rather insolently to Snape, before making a public declaration of his filial love, under the influence of alcohol. What could Remus find to envy in all of that? But he caught himself wishing desperately for the Potions master's presence to get him out of his embarrassment, and the realization stunned him.

"I'm sure it'll be all right, Remus," he said, wanting to sound convincing. "You need time, that's all."

"You're very positive, for someone who was almost killed by Loki," Lupin sighed. "Harry, I can't apologize enough for that. I have no control over him, but if I were to manage to make him listen to reason…"

"I know, I know, that's not necessary," Harry protested. "Speaking of that…I know Severus came to talk to you, and…don't be angry with him, all right? He didn't make me drink, or encourage me in any way to say all that. He didn't tell me a thing about you, or anything else. It was me and only me."

Remus nodded. "Not too long ago, I would've doubted that, but now I know. I don't doubt that Severus had nothing to do with your reaction, and his visit surprised me at first, but I can understand…"

Behind them the door was flung open, making them both jump. Harry felt his heart leap as he saw the dark figure advancing urgently toward them. Snape. But the bout of panic that'd just begun to fade away came back, full force. Not now. Not with Remus. Not here.

"Severus, I was just talking to Harry," Remus greeted him. Snape stopped a few steps away from them, his anxious eyes moving from one to the other. His hair was somewhat disheveled, and he was holding his wand in his hand, clearly ready to spring to action, Harry noted. But for what reason?

"Everything all right?" Severus asked, watching them.

"I…yeah, thanks. I came…yeah, finally. I'll leave the two of you; I have to go," Harry said rapidly.

"Wait," Remus protested. "No need...."

"Would it bother you if I sleep in the tower tonight?" Harry asked Snape, ignoring the werewolf. Severus frowned, but gave a jerk of his chin.

"I'll alert Minerva. I think you took your things with you?"

Without a word, Harry nodded.

"In that case, meet me tomorrow morning at eight in the third dungeon classroom. We'll work on the matter of your powers," Snape said.

"Tomorrow, then," Harry stammered, before heading for the door, his eyes glued to the floor. "Goodbye, Remus, sorry, again."

Without waiting for an answer, Harry transformed to navigate the corridors on four feet, as if the devil were on his heels.

And was it imagination, or was he once again being followed as he slipped along the wall, behind the suits of armor, to get to the Gryffindor common room? Breathing, furtive rusting—he wasn't mad! Speeding up, he was out of breath when he finally reached the portrait. The Fat Lady stared at him for an instant, clearly hesitating to open it for him.

"Password?" she asked.

A growl and a swipe of claws within a few inches of the canvas were enough to convince her.

"Very well, very well, no need to take such a tone! It's always the same with Animagi, unable to be civilized as soon as…" The rest of her speech was lost to Shadow, who streaked up the steps to make a single leap onto his mattress, burrowing under the covers. Shelter at last! Alone, somewhat relieved, and slightly unhappy, but emotions were sufficiently muted in his cat form, so he was able to quickly fall into a healing sleep, filled with dreams of tins of tuna and potions laboratories.

***

Once again, it was the arrival of his two friends that awakened him a few hours later.

"Up, fleabag!" Ron yelled as he threw back the covers, earning himself a meow of protest. Disturbing the sleep of a cat was truly a crime.

"By the way, Harry, have you come across Crookshanks? You positively have to meet him!" Hermione exclaimed. "In this form, I mean."

Irritated, the cat transformed into the teenager again.

"Have you already finished with classes? What time's it?"

"Five," Ron answered. "Time for a snack!"

"Ron Weasley, how old are you?" Hermione asked as she rolled her eyes. "You're not supposed to snack at your age; wait for supper."

"And if I'm hungry?" the boy moaned. "I've never seen it anywhere that there's an age limit for teatime, especially after such a horrible class."

"Horrible?" Harry asked with interest. "I thought Slughorn was nice?"

"Slughorn, yes," Hermione said, "but today he wasn't by himself."

"Snape joined him," Ron explained. "And I don't know what was up with him, but he was in a foul mood."

"Snape? He gave a class?" Harry exclaimed, stunned.

"Not really. Actually, he contented himself with taking points from everyone and reprimanding anyone who didn't perfectly prepare the potion Slughorn had us do. It was truly hellish. Slughorn on one side, giving us instructions, and Snape on the other, watching everyone with that eagle-eye of his. Even the Slytherins were nervous."

"That said, the Slytherins aren't very friendly towards Professor Snape now," Hermione admitted with an apologetic look toward Harry. "But Ron's right, it was truly awful. I know you get on with him well now, Harry, but he doesn't seem to have changed in class, and in all honestly, I'm not in much of a hurry to see him come back."

"Did he do any magic?" Harry asked thoughtfully. Severus hadn't told him anything about going back to class, but frankly, Harry hadn't really given him the time.

"No, I don't think so," Ron replied. "But I didn't really pay attention; I was too busy trying not to get myself killed in the middle of class."

"Merlin, I hope it's not because of what I said," Harry mused, suddenly struck with guilt.

"What, did you threaten to blow up his laboratory?" Ron asked. "Because, apart from that, I don't see what could've put him in such a bad mood."

"No, I told him I wanted to come back to Gryffindor tower. He agreed, but maybe he took it badly. I mean, I was supposed to stay with him for now."

"That was just a bit of insecurity, Harry. I doubt Professor Snape would be cross with you for that," Hermione tried to reassure him.

"I don't know; it's complicated lately. Maybe I shouldn't have."

"Listen, I'm sure you're worrying about nothing," Hermione insisted. "I think I know what was bothering the professor, and it had nothing to do with you, I can assure you of that."

"What, then?" Harry asked, vaguely irritated that the girl was claiming to know his Man In Black better than he.

"I didn't intend to tell you," she hesitated an instant, "but…I saw him put his hand on his forearm several times, as if it were hurting him. I think Voldemort was trying to summon him."

"Summon him?" Harry said, suddenly feeling he was about to be sick. "Torture him is more like it! I should've known… Merlin, I was hoping we'd bought a bit of time. I didn't think he'd start it up again so soon. I have to finish that psychopath off, once and for all," he said dully. He felt a light hand rest on his shoulder.

"You can't do anything about it for now, besides get your strength back and prepare yourself," Hermione said softly.

"I have training scheduled with Severus tomorrow morning. He said we'd work on my control. I understand why he's in such a hurry now. I should go talk to him; I've been really silly about this whole affair."

"Honestly, Harry," Ron intervened, "in your shoes, I'd leave him in peace. He was in a rotten mood, and knowing Snape, I think he'd prefer to be alone. Unless you really want him to take out his bad mood on you, of course."

"Not really, no," Harry admitted. "I suppose if he wants to see me, he'll come and find me." But in a way, that seemed disloyal. He shook his head. "I'll see how it goes tomorrow."

The temptation to transform into Shadow and run through the corridors to get to the Man In Black was strong, to curl up in his lap and purr to distract him, but was he really welcome just now? There was only one way to know.

"Do you have a minute? I have to check on something," he said to his friends. Without waiting, he headed for the Gryffindor common room, where he was greeted by a few of his housemates. Smiling and quickly answering questions and jokes, Harry made his way as quickly as possible to the fireplace, then threw in a handful of Floo powder. He'd definitely done well to take an extra measure before he'd left. He sensed, before seeing, that Severus wasn't in his rooms. Disappointed, Harry was getting ready to retreat, when he saw the little figure of a house-elf trotting in his direction.

"Dobby! Have you seen Professor Snape?"

"Professor Snape isn't here, Harry Potter," the elf squeaked. "He's in the Headmaster's office for a meeting with all the professors."

A meeting…this was his chance.

"Do you know when the meeting's supposed to be over?" he asked Dobby.

"Oh, Dobby does not think it will last more than an hour. Albus Dumbledore asked the kitchen elves to prepare a special meal for this evening, Harry Potter. For him and Professor Snape!"

"Snape and Dumbledore are dining together?" Harry exclaimed, the idea making him ill-at-ease.

"Yes, Harry Potter," Dobby agreed enthusiastically. "Dobby has just done the cleaning and prepared Harry Potter's room, sir!"

"My room?" the boy asked, intrigued. "But it's already ready."

"Professor Snape told Dobby there needed to be new shelves, and Gryffindor blankets, Harry Potter! In case Harry Potter changed his mind and would like to sleep here!"

Harry couldn't hold back a smile. Gryffindor blankets. It was just like Severus to think of that sort of detail. As for Harry, house colors hardly mattered to him, but the fact that Snape wanted his room ready for him—that answered his question. He was welcome there, of course. Even if it appeared that this evening his presence wasn't indispensable; after all, Severus had other people to rely on. Harry had a tendency to forget that, after the last times spent in isolation at the Manor.

He offered a big smile to the elf, who was watching him, his large eyes full of hope.

"Thank you, Dobby, it's really nice of you to take care of it. I don't think I'll be coming back down this evening, but another day, for sure."

"Harry Potter can ask for anything he wants. Dobby will do it!" the elf squeaked, batting his ears with pleasure.

The boy couldn't help but smile again. "Thanks, Dobby, that'll be good. Just don't let Professor Snape take care of decorating my room, all right? I doubt we have the same tastes, when it comes down to it."

"I promise, Harry Potter," Dobby replied with the utmost seriousness.

"See you later, then. If you need anything, I'll be in Gryffindor, you know where to find me."

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir!" the elf said, his eyes overflowing with tears of gratitude.

Without lingering any longer, Harry pulled himself back into the Gryffindor common room. It was with a lighter heart that he took part in a little explosive battle with Ron, Seamus and Neville, until the bell for supper finally sounded. Engaged in conversation with his friends, and happy to be back in the comfortable atmosphere of Gryffindor again, closely surrounded by his friends, the trip to the Great Hall seemed shorter and less anxious. It was only when he noticed the professors' table and Dumbledore's and Severus' empty seats that he felt a weight fall onto his shoulders again.

What could they be talking about? Him, would be a strong bet…and like always, he was being left out of it. But no, he decided, casting the idea aside. Snape and Dumbledore probably just had things to say to each other. As Severus had pointed out, Harry wasn't the center of the universe, after all.

Nevertheless, he wasn't unhappy to leave the Hall, Ron and Hermione just behind him, after having eaten his meal as quickly as his stomach allowed him. He sensed Ron's vague frustration at having to abandon the last half of his lemon cake, and Hermione's understanding look heavy upon him, as they went back to Gryffindor, but Severus' absence definitely bothered him, even more so since it was so obvious.

Back in the tower, though, his friends didn't give him time to wallow in his thoughts. Hermione insisted on giving him a private tutoring session in Transfiguration (very important, if you want to become and Auror, Harry, not to mention it's McGonagall's subject), until his head was about to explode, after which Ron took over with a game of chess, which Harry lost, of course. As well as the next five. For sure, triumphant return or not, Ron hadn't the least bit of compassion for Harry's pitiful chess skills.

The evening spent around the fire wore on, until Hermione finally decided to send all the students to their dormitories for 'lights out.'

"Hermione, it's still early," Ron moaned, immersed in a Quidditch magazine.

"That's not what you'll say tomorrow when I have to drag you out of bed," the girl retorted, as she shoved a few reluctant first years on their way. "And Harry needs rest as well."

"Hey, that's enough. I'm not a baby," Harry protested. The day's inactivity hadn't worn him out.

"Maybe, but you have training tomorrow morning at eight," Hermione pointed out. "I don't know exactly what's involved, but if I were you, I wouldn't risk showing up without a good night's sleep."

Her observation wasn't a stupid one, and Harry had to reluctantly agree. He went to bed, a book in hand, Ron yawning as he followed without further protest.

"Mate," Ron said, once they were in bed, "if you need something, or you have a nightmare, or anything at all…you wake me, all right? I'm not Snape, but that doesn't mean I haven't known you for a bunch of years, so don't act like I haven't. Understood?"

"Understood," Harry grumbled, slightly irritated. They'd never needed to make this sort of agreement before, but maybe his new loyalty was plain enough to someone who knew him as well as Ron did, after all.

As he thought, Harry put out the light and pulled the curtains around his bed. Was Severus back in his rooms? Was he waiting for Harry, despite what he'd said? Was Voldemort trying to reach him, as Draco had warned?

Haunted by darker thoughts than he would've liked for his first night back in Gryffindor, it took him several hours to fall into an agitated sleep.

He didn't hear, then, the soft footsteps at his bedside, or the curtains being pulled aside, nor did he see the slender and lithe form sit beside him on the bed. A low voice murmured a spell, and a hand came to rest on his forehead.

"Sleep, Harry. Don't let the shadows spoil your slumber. You're back in your own territory now, my lion…"

Soundlessly, Severus withdrew two phials from his robes, and with a wave of his wand, he transferred their contents to the boy's stomach. Then, just as discreetly, he set two other potions on the bedside table.

"I'm here, Harry, right beside you. Sleep peacefully now." Pushing a strand of hair back into place, Snape stopped then to rub at his painful forearm.

Harry had avoided him the entire day, which hadn't stopped the Mark from summoning him again and again with increasing intensity as the hours went by. The boy might run from him, but it appeared he wanted Snape to be there, consciously or not. Enough to call him through their link, without Harry realizing it. And all of Dumbledore's theories and assistance had proved necessary to keep the Mark's call to a reasonable level.

Severus knew that Harry needed time, but they were going to have to train hard and seriously, if the boy were to quickly master his powers and be able to resume a normal life. A life that would allow Severus to begin the adoption process, if all went well.

A burst of affection filled him, as he watched Harry sleep, calmed by Severus' presence. These surges of tenderness never ceased to surprise and amaze him. After Lily's death, he would've never thought he'd be able to feel such emotions again. And this need to protect the boy… He shook his head, perplexed in spite of himself. Life was definitely full of twists and turns.

It was late that night when the Potions master wended his way down the staircases for his own bed. Tomorrow would be a new day, he thought, as he stretched himself out.

He wasn't aware how much so…

***

The next morning at breakfast, Harry couldn't help but feel relief, seeing Severus in his usual place, talking with Professor Slughorn as he sipped at his tea. Their glances crossed for a second, and Harry caught the slight nod the professor gave him; he answered with a quick smile, unable to hold his eyes any longer. On the other hand, Harry wasn't quite so relieved at the sight of Remus, whose eyes were eagerly seeking out Harry's. Harry'd already noticed this little game the evening before, and had deliberately avoided him. Today, though, Remus didn't seem about to let himself be ignored.

Seeing how quickly the professor seemed to be trying to finish his breakfast, Harry did the same, seized by a bad feeling. His fears were confirmed when he saw Remus excuse himself from his conversation with McGonagall, then stride purposefully for the Gryffindor table. Not waiting, Harry got up hurriedly, almost knocking over his chair, Ron and Hermione watching him questioningly. Not quickly enough, though, to avoid Remus.

"Harry, good to see you," the professor began in a low voice. "You look well. Could we talk for a moment?"

"I'm sorry," Harry stammered, not daring to look at him, "but I'm in a hurry. Maybe later."

The disappointment was clear on Remus' face, but he nodded, crestfallen, as he stepped backward. "You have training to do. I'll see you for certain this evening," he said.

"Sure," Harry confirmed, irritated. If he didn't manage to dodge him, anyway. Merlin, couldn't he have a bit of a break, time for this little matter to fade a little?

A glance toward the platform told him that Severus had also got up and was getting ready to leave by the staff door. Without hesitating any longer, Harry rushed for the corridor with a vague goodbye for Remus.

He didn't have any trouble finding Snape, who was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, watching as he came down, his neutral expression carefully controlled. After all these past weeks spent alone with Severus, Harry had almost managed to forget this so characteristic façade of his. Oh, Snape knew how to hide himself…but in spite of that, the boy had learnt how to read him, and he knew without any possible doubt that at that moment, the man was happy to see him.

"Did you rest well?" he asked in form of a greeting, as they started off for the dungeons.

"Yeah. It was strange to go back to Gryffindor," Harry replied. Just as it was strange to find himself at Severus' side, the memory of the scene in Dumbledore's office still smarting.

"I can imagine," Snape agreed. "We'll start working on Occlumency this morning, before testing your mastery of your new powers. It's imperative for you to be able to control them."

"Isn't it a bit dangerous to talk about that here?" Harry asked nervously as he glanced around him.

"Students aren't supposed to be in the corridors right now," Severus answered coldly. "And of course, at this very moment we are under a concealment charm."

"Oh," Harry said, dampened, "since when?"

"Since you joined me at the bottom of the stairs. You must learn to feel the magic around you, Harry. It's an important part of defense, and not only against the dark arts. Always stay vigilant."

"That's what Moody says," Harry murmured. "I felt something, actually, but I didn't understand it. I'll pay more attention in the future."

"It's more difficult in a place like this, where magic is everywhere," Snape admitted. "But any spell directed at you, whatever it may be, has a particular echo. Try to sense it and identify it."

Harry nodded. He still had so much to learn. He could only hope that Severus wouldn't try to instill all these notions in the same way he'd taught him Occlumency last year.

But he quickly realized that his fears were unfounded. The lessons of the summer had borne fruit, and the mutual trust that'd formed between them helped greatly with the comprehension Harry needed.

When Severus announced that the session was enough for that morning, Harry felt exhausted and elated: both by his new abilities and the possibilities they held out for him. Power, of course, but especially its mastery, now that he was understanding better how to channel it…and Snape's presence, pushing him, holding him back, encouraging him bit by bit, all along keeping a neutral and professorial attitude that was particularly comforting.

All of which made the end of the class that much more embarrassing for Harry. The lesson over, Severus would no longer have reason to keep his tone impersonal, and maybe, like Remus, he'd want to talk about Harry's recent escapades and behavior a bit more. Oddly, the idea didn't repulse Harry as much as that of facing Remus, but it didn't make him happy either. He wanted to talk to Severus, but he didn't feel able to yet.

Lost in his thoughts, his face filled with conflicting emotions, he looked up at his guardian and met the black eyes studying him. Always unfathomable, those eyes, but with that hint of warmth and calm assurance that quickly calmed Harry's fears.

Severus clearly wasn't Remus, and once again, Harry caught himself thinking how grateful he was for that.

"I'll meet you again here tomorrow, same time," Snape simply said.

"All right," Harry agreed, stupidly wishing it was tomorrow already. That feeling of power—there was something frightening about it, of course, for he still had so little control over it. But it was exhilarating, a bit like flying on a broom.

"And Harry…you know you're welcome in my rooms, anytime you like."

Without waiting for a reply, Severus turned on heel and headed for the Potions classroom, his robes swirling around him.

That day, Harry found that the afternoon, spent revising and getting ready for Quidditch practice, passed much more quickly and peacefully. And if his first Quidditch session as the Captain of the new team were a success, it was surely thanks to that little taste of freedom. Not to mention, of course, the unfailing enthusiasm of the players, and most significant of all, the new magic he felt running through his fingers, electrifying his Firebolt.

And maybe it was also because of the presence of a dark shadow in a corner of the stands. A shadow that oddly resembled a Slytherin head of house, hidden from unsuspecting eyes, but which Harry had spotted straight off. Snape was right about one thing, Harry thought; magic could be felt…and this particular magical signature was familiar to him.

When McGonagall had grown tired of watching over the students, well after night had fallen, the entire team finally decided to head for the dormitories, tired but happy.

"The Cup is ours this year—no doubt about it!" Ron exulted as he stowed his broom in the shed. "I'll admit I had a few doubts about your selections, but I take them all back. It's probably the best team Gryffindor's had in ages!"

"The twins are still going to be hard to replace," Harry admitted regretfully. Their decision to leave Hogwarts to start up their 'extracurricular but extremely profitable' venture, as they themselves qualified it, bothered Harry in more than one respect. But he understood their decision only too well, and the prospect of going to buy their products on the next Hogsmeade weekend helped to compensate for the inconvenience.

Except when it came to Quidditch…

"Do you think we could ask Dobby to bring us something from the kitchens?" Ron asked hopefully. "I’m dying of hunger; that little session was great, but it didn't help that we missed a meal!"

"And it must not happen again," said a falsely strict voice from behind them.

The two boys turned at the same time.

"Oh, hello, Remus," Harry said, embarrassed.

"But I agree with Mr. Weasley; this new team is superb," the professor went on with a smile. "Excellent game, Harry."

"Thanks," the boy replied, desperately trying not to meet his eyes.

"Can I invite you to dine in my new rooms? I've just settled in, but I must say they're particularly comfortable. As always, of course," the Defense professor added.

"Thanks," Harry said again, "but…the team is waiting for me, well, to celebrate our first practice. Hang around in the common room, eat some sweets, talk about maneuvers, all that. I'm Captain now, so…"

"Yes, I knew that," Remus said softly. "I understand, of course. Another time, then?"

Bloody hell, Harry said to himself, so there was no way to get out of it?

"Sure," he said with a tight smile. "See you later, Remus."

Without waiting, he took off for Gryffindor tower, leaving Ron behind him.

Feeling more ridiculous than annoyed, Harry felt obliged to quickly plan this little Quidditch celebration he'd used for an excuse. This way, he would've only half-lied, he thought. Dobby, ecstatic at the idea, undertook supplying enough food to fill the players' stomachs,

Once again, it was Hermione who had to convince the entire team and all the other Gryffindors who'd joined them to head for bed, protesting loudly despite their numerous yawns.

This time it didn't take Harry long to fall asleep, nestled up in his bed, but his dreams were no less agitated than the night before. For some reason he didn't understand, Remus was furious with him and refused to speak to him, a cloud of hostility surrounding him. Harry tried in vain to apologize, to explain to the professor that it was a horrible misunderstanding. Remus transformed into a werewolf and growled at him before running farther and father away. And above him, Severus' dark and ever-present shadow nodded and watched as the werewolf took off.

"He's right. I'd do the same if I could."

Despair washed over Harry, as he tried without success to get closer to Snape, seeking his comforting presence; but the hard and disappointed eyes he directed at Harry paralyzed him. Then a huge black panther leapt through the darkness to jump at him, coming between them with a howl, and Harry transformed into the cat to better confront the animal. But he felt so small, so silly facing the large cat…

Something seemed to suddenly change, though, and the clouds that'd been there since Remus had left, disappeared, and a soft warmth filled the air, chasing away the remaining shadows. The panther came nearer, purring now as it licked the cat's forehead with its hot, raspy tongue. It felt good, Harry thought, like finding himself next to the fire after a walk in the snow…and the black eyes staring at him weren't hard anymore, just tired.

Gently, the warmth got the better of Harry, and he toppled into a dreamless sleep, a slight smile on his face.

Without a word, Severus Snape got up and left the dormitory once again, hoping the boy'd be able to pass the rest of the night without nightmares.

The first thing Harry saw the next morning was the letter waiting for him, stuck to Hedwig's talons. The owl had seemed happy to seem him the night before, when Ron and Hermione had gone with him to the owlery, but that hadn't stopped Hedwig from scolding him, in her own way, for his long absence. Harry's fingers and ears still bore the marks…

This time, the owl seemed in a better mood, and contented itself with perching on Harry's shoulder, hooting softly in his ear. Not quite awake, Harry rubbed his eyes and took the envelope, giving the bird a friendly pet. The handwriting was familiar… Frowning, Harry grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and put them on.

Remus. He should've suspected. Groaning, he hesitated for a moment. He could lose the letter, or just set it aside for the moment. Why did Lupin need to be so insistent? Sighing, Harry opened the envelope.

"Harry," the letter began.

"I know things haven't been easy lately, and believe me when I say I understand your feelings. Despite everything, I hope you won't forget that I'm here for you, and at Hogwarts now, if you'd like to talk to me. The password to my rooms is Full Moon. Don’t' hesitate to use it.

"Your friend,

"R.L."

No, obviously Remus would never give up, Harry decided. But at least he'd not suggested another meeting. Time, he thought, just a bit of time…was that really too much to ask?

But the training session that morning, despite Snape's reassuring comments, brought forcefully home how precious time was. This time, Severus wasn't just content with testing him; he'd pushed him, again and again, in every direction, until Harry's powers were flying through the room, out of control, bouncing off the warded walls and narrowly missing destroying them. Whatever Harry tried, whatever the spell or his intention, it seemed his magic always ended up destructive, bursting violently from his wand to fill the room, charging the air with a dark energy that gave Harry goose bumps.

If Severus had found the morning productive, Harry himself was appalled. A simple Accio had almost torn out an entire section of a wall, and Merlin, he'd only been aiming at a candle in a sconce attached to it. Clearly, he wasn't ready to go back to classes, despite Snape's optimism. The professor, though, seemed proud of him, but Harry couldn't help but find it a bit unhealthy, this admiration for his powers, given their origin. It wasn't his mastery, right now, that might make him worthy of praise.

Severus left the boy in front of the Great Hall, still maintaining that impassive kindness he'd assumed with his adoptive son since his departure from his rooms. Harry obviously wanted to have some space; he'd be the last one to reproach him for it. He himself had had spent his adolescence and adult life setting up a healthy barrier of welcome emptiness around him. No one had worried about respecting it, quite obviously, not when they'd needed him.

But if Harry wanted to isolate himself to have time to think, whatever form that took, he fully intended to give him the space and time he needed. Once again, he would offer the boy what no one had been gracious enough to accord to him: a private life.

This didn't keep his new Mark from aching painfully, each and every time Harry left him. Merlin, the teenager was a walking contradiction. Severus was almost relieved when, a few hours later, he felt the summoning weaken suddenly.

Almost, because this change could only mean one thing: Harry had just taken his Animagus form, and given the hour, his friends couldn't be with him.

Severus could only hope that the boy would content himself with curling up by the fire, safe in the Gryffindor common room.

At the other side of the castle, Shadow was mulling over his thoughts. What was Draco up to? And especially what was he doing in the Room of Requirement? Maybe the Slytherin thought he was being discreet, but he'd not counted on the presence of the black cat and its sharpened senses. Shadow had only planned on going down the passage leading to the kitchens, to pay the house-elves a visit and maybe feast on a good bowl of tuna, when he'd noticed the teenager's stealthy shadow through the tower window. In the corridor near the Room of Requirement… Shadow had watched with interest, waiting to see the boy reappear in the next window, but he'd not shown up again. Which could only mean one thing. Draco was in the Room.

And Draco Malfoy in the Room of Requirement seemed like a very bad idea to Harry. He hesitated for an instant. It'd be best to quickly go back to the tower and talk to Snape, but the prospect of finding out what Malfoy was up to was too tempting. And after all, in this form, he was almost invisible and couldn't be caught…and maybe he wouldn't get another chance.

Staying close to the walls, Shadow stealthily crept toward the stairway, sliding silently behind the suits of armor. From here, he could no longer see the corridor, and he was still far away. He sped up quickly, determined to trap the Slytherin red-handed. Focused on his goal, he just about missed the almost familiar sound of breathing behind him, of footfalls matching his own. The suits of armor began to clink dangerously as he passed by, and in spite of his rapid pace, Shadow sensed himself being hotly pursued, followed and tracked. Unable to resist, he threw himself to the middle of the corridor, before quickly transforming and swiveling on his heels, wand brandished in the direction of the spot he'd just vacated.

Nothing. The suit of amour clanking against the wall seemed to shoot him a scornful look through its helmet, but as for the corridor itself, it was hopelessly empty.

Or nearly.

"Harry Potter…" said a suave voice from behind him.

Taken by surprise, the boy turned to face the speaker. At first glance, the young man standing before him didn't seem at all worrisome, and Harry relaxed noticeably, lowering his wand. A second look was enough to make him correct his mistake. Oh, certainly, the wizard facing him seemed completely relaxed and as natural as could be, but he appeared just a bit too old to be a Hogwarts student, and Harry couldn't recall having ever seen him before. He wasn't wearing a uniform either, but was clothed in a simple white wizarding robe.

But what really put the Gryffindor on his guard was the way the young man was looking at him. His hazel eyes had an icy and animalistic glaze that lit his entire face. Overall, the boy seemed…ferocious. There simply wasn't a different word, Harry thought. Ferocious, and ready to strike.

A thought that came to him a second too late. Without losing his air of calmness, the young man gave him a quick smile that reminded Harry of the snarl of a savage animal, before throwing himself toward him in a whirlwind of white.

Loki, Harry realized in a split second, it's Loki, and he's here for me!

His reflexes kicking in, Harry quickly pointed his wand at the animal, before changing his mind: he couldn't do that. Loki, Remus' son, his powers. He'd risk killing him!

This instant of hesitation proved to the advantage of the wolf, who jumped with all his might, aiming for the wizard's throat. His front paws struck the boy's shoulders, who rocked backward in shock, and Loki growled in triumph, his bared fangs searching for their target.

But the wolf's jaws closed on emptiness, as well as its paws, as it came to rest on the floor without its prey, which had suddenly fled.

Eyes glittering with surprise and fury, Loki stood up on four feet. In front of him, two green eyes, much too intelligent for those of a cat, confronted him, in the space of a second.

The wolf retracted its claws with what appeared to be a smile, before leaping once more for the black cat defying him just a few steps away.

The feline didn't waste any time waiting; after swiping his paws at the wolf's neck, Shadow went in the only direction possible, without caring about his destination. Flee, he had to flee, get himself to safety and find someone who could neutralize Loki without hurting him! If only Remus were there, if only Harry'd not been so stupid.

Behind him, the wolf, so much bigger and more powerful than he, was gaining ground with every passing second, making use of the large space that the corridor gave him. Shadow desperately looked around for a way to buy some time…the suits of armor! He could wend his way behind them, pressed against the walls, but Loki would be too big!

Cutting away to the side abruptly, the cat literally threw himself behind the armor, racing at full speed as he hugged the wall. As if he'd expected this, Loki, obsessed by his prey, hurled himself at the iron suits of armor, but not enough to lose ground. He ran alongside the cat, snapping with his teeth in the direction of the feline each time he had the chance.

No one seemed to have decided to come to his rescue, and Shadow felt more and more desperate as the wolf's teeth brushed at his flanks, each time missing him by less than an inch. He was going to end up reaching him, that much was inevitable. Focused on his trajectory, throwing all his strength into his flight, Harry almost didn't hear the first suit of armor fall, forcing Loki to move to the side. Thanking the saints who'd just given him an instant to get ahead, Shadow redoubled his efforts, and this time clearly heard the wolf yelp when a second suit of armor fell against him with unfailing accuracy, once again allowing the Gryffindor to gain a few strides' advantage.

But it wasn't enough, Shadow realized, as he reached another bend in the corridor. The walls in front of him were bare, no suits of armor…no protection for a cat. Loki had probably realized it too, because he heard the wolf let out a growl of triumph just behind him. Too close, much too close!

Refusing to think himself lost, his breath short, Shadow tried to summon his strength. The last of his strength, probably, he thought, as he hopelessly searched the closed doors with his eyes, and the corridor that seemed to go on forever.

"In here!" hissed a voice.

The voice seemed unpleasantly familiar, but Harry didn't waste time analyzing it. There was someone close by, and someone who wanted to come to his aid!

Not pausing for an instant, he rushed into the room that'd just been opened to his left, and, delirious with relief, he heard the heavy door close behind him. Saved! He'd been saved!

But his exaltation didn't last long. He'd scarcely stopped in the middle of the small, furniture-less room when he felt the floor disappear from beneath his feet, dragging him down into a long chute, his fall softened at the end by a cushioning spell.

Harry decided bitterly that there was definitely one thing that was true about cats; they always landed on their feet. And safe and sound…at least until now.

Around him, the bottom of the trap was round and barely more than three feet in diameter. Shadow looked up to note that he'd just suffered a fall of about thirty feet, and was surprised he didn't feel more pain from it. Sensing himself more vulnerable than ever, Harry retook his human form and tapped the inside surface with his hands. Totally smooth, and oozing of magic, surely designed to prevent any escape. He groaned. How could he've fallen into such an obvious trap?

Up above, he could hear two people talking in low voices, clearly disagreeing. After a few minutes, Loki's face appeared, the frustration etched into his fine features. Harry realized that if he couldn't escape, then Loki couldn't reach him anymore either…at least not if he wanted to be able to escape himself after dealing with Harry. He smiled. So the hunter became the hunted! The two wizards stared at each other, in a moment that seemed to last an eternity.

Loki's hair shone in the light, so transparent it seemed white. Or gray, Harry thought. It was really hard to believe that this stern and expressionless face belonged to Remus' son. Although now that he was paying attention…they truly were Remus' eyes, his forehead, and a hint of his facial shape, something about his mouth…no, it was something else, Harry decided. More like Remus after the presence of a Dementor, and whose soul had been replaced by a hostile animal. Nothing calculating, but an icy chilliness that made Harry shiver, even given the thirty feet of distance.

The face pulled back and disappeared from Harry's sight, with a last worrisome smile, and the door closed again, leaving only the echo of footsteps as he walked away. It took less than a minute, though, for the wooden door to open again with a bang, and for another face, much different than the other, to appear in the hole of the trap.

"Harry, are you all right?"

Severus, the boy realized. Severus. Letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, he smiled. This time, he had been saved.

"Well, I wouldn't say that, but in one piece," he replied.

There was an audible sigh of relief, before Snape recovered and straightened, eyeing him from head to foot from up above, and then glanced at the tunnel, his arms crossed on his chest.

"In one piece, really? It seems to me, though, that someone reported having seen your brain back in the Gryffindor common room," the Potions master said slowly.

"Ha ha, very funny," Harry answered, annoyed, and vaguely claustrophobic all of a sudden. "Do you intend to help me get out, or are you planning on just lecturing me from up there? Because if that's the case, I'd prefer to warn you that a werewolf is free in the school."

"I'm leaning toward the second solution, actually," Snape said without budging an inch. "As for the wolf in question, he's no longer in the school. He succeeded in leaving Hogwarts grounds."

"What? How? And how do you know that?" Harry exclaimed, relieved in spite of himself.

"Unfortunately, from a reliable source, if I know Mr. Malfoy," Snape sighed, before finally deciding to raise his wand. A length of rope appeared down into the trap, and Harry hurried to climb up, relieved to find himself out of a space in which he couldn't make the circuit in a single step.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, as he dusted himself off, all the while getting as close to Severus as possible. "He's the one I was after; I saw him go into the Room of Requirement, or just about…but I didn't see him actually go in; I ran into Loki before I could."

"Oh, it's certain that you made his task considerably easier," Snape said bitterly. "And yet it seems I had your word not to go anywhere on your own."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry answered sincerely. "It really was a bad set of circumstances; I would've never imagined. Merlin, I can't believe I escaped; he followed me in the corridors in his wolf form, and if it hadn't been for the suits of armor, I would've never gained those few feet that made me able to get into the room…and it doesn't help that I still don't know who called for me to come in. Anyway, I don't know if he was trying to save me or make it easier for Loki," Harry said thoughtfully.

"You must relate all of this in a more detailed and coherent manner, but as for your last question, I think it won't be too difficult to have the answer." A hand on Harry's shoulder, Snape led them from the room where Harry'd sought refuge.

He'd hardly stepped across the threshold when Harry took a jump backward, his wand in his hand. In front of him stood another wizard, whose face was far from unknown this time. But pale, paler than Harry'd ever seen it, and clearly defeated.

His presence didn't seem to surprise Severus, who took a step toward him, without letting go of Harry.

"Will it, Mr. Malfoy?"