When Severus and his two companions Apparated into the graveyard in Godric's Hollow, he was totally disorientated for several seconds. They had appeared in what was a total whiteout, so thick was the mist.

And then the bone deep, unnatural chill penetrated Severus's Muggle attire and he shuddered at the same time as every nerve-ending went on alert. Dementors! And though he automatically poised himself for battle, he could feel despair creeping through his whole body, like a physical entity instead of a state of mind, and his wand hand shook as if it was palsied. He, Arthur and Albus were standing together, back to back, their wands at the ready. Severus automatically pressed close to Albus, and he felt Arthur do the same because somehow, within this disorienting fog, the figure of Albus Dumbledore seemed to act like a beacon...a small area of warmth and comfort in the freezing mist. Unlike himself and Arthur, Dumbledore was not trembling with the cold. He alone seemed unaffected.

And then Severus heard them. That terrifying, vibrating, grotesque rattle that froze one's very core and made the hairs all over one's body stand on end. Oh, God, if Harry was here, as Dumbledore had surmised...were they too late?

No! They couldn't be too late. Harry could produce a Patronus after all. A magnificent Patronus! The only Patronus Severus knew of that was actually brighter than that brilliant stag, was Albus's phoenix.

And then the Dementors were gliding towards them...at least two dozen of them, and though the sight of that seething mass of stinking carrion had Severus's skin drenched in cold, clammy perspiration, he found the thought of Harry's stag gave him control over his wand hand.

"Together, I think," said Dumbledore calmly, and three raised voices incanted the words that caused a blindingly bright phoenix to appear, accompanied by a beautiful, daintily stepping doe and a sinuous weasel that flipped over it's tail as though it was there to play.

But when the phoenix shot forwards into the midst of the putrid, gliding mass, the doe and the weasel streaked after the magical, avian apparition, eager to do their share. The creatures from the underworld scattered and swooped off and Severus was surprised to see that the path the Patronuses had taken seemed to be more easily visible.

He took off, after them, his wand still aloft in case more tried to descend upon them. Nothing frightened Severus more than the thought of the Dementors kiss but fear for Harry gave him the impetus to run forwards. Severus estimated that they had been here for nearly a minute and he was terrifyingly aware that if Harry was here and had not been able to produce his own Patronus in the midst of such overwhelming odds, then it could be too late.

A terror different to that the Dementors had caused gripped Severus's very soul. They could not have taken his son! He had only just found out he had a son; surely he was not going to lose him before they had established any sort of relationship. A real relationship! Not the bitter, antagonistic sparring matches that had filled up practically every moment of the time that he and Harry had found themselves in close proximity over the last five years.

And now in his abject terror for the boy, Severus freely admitted that most of the ill feeling had been instigated by him. Albus had been right. He had set out to humiliate the small, confused child who had been trying so hard to fit into the strange, new world he had found himself in. He had set out to humiliate James Potter's son...his own cousins child. A child whose parents had been murdered, and who would have been murdered himself but for the sacrifice of his mother.

And to his even deeper shame, Severus admitted that not only had he hated the boy because he was the dead spit of James, which had made it very easy to hate him, he had also blamed Harry for Lily's death. If she had only stood aside, she needn't have died. That murdering psychopath would have spared her. He had promised Severus he would spare her.

It was only now, in this graveyard, where Harry could well have started on the journey to join his mother and father (for the Dementors kiss hastened death), that Severus knew why Lily had refused to stand aside to save her own life. She had been protecting her infant son. And as hopeless a task as that may have seemed, she had had to try. Severus could now feel her need; if he was only allowed the opportunity, he would sacrifice himself to save his child. If he only had that chance!

He had been a father for less than two weeks...he had known he was a father for less than two weeks, and somehow during that time, he had, despite all indications to the contrary, developed a sense of parental responsibility.

Severus was aware of the rapid footsteps of the other two directly behind him and as they ran, they cast more Patronuses because the Dementors kept on coming...and Severus's fear reached fever pitch. The area through which they raced was recognisable to Severus now, thanks to the incandescent light spread by the Patronuses; he knew exactly where James and Lily's grave was situated. He had visited it often enough over the years.

And then Severus's heart seemed to stutter to a halt and he did not understand how he remained on his feet. It may have had something to do with Albus grasping his upper arm when he staggered. Though their last Patronuses had disappeared after the last of the fleeing Dementors, Albus had immediately brought another phoenix forth because the light was brighter than a Lumos. And that light had fallen upon a truly horrifying sight. A pair of boots and the bottom of a pair of trousers were the only things that could be seen beyond a heaving mass of at least ten Dementors.

Severus had enough time to see that the legs and feet were jerking spasmodically before the phoenix flashed into the fray. After barely a second, Albus cast another. He heard Arthur's voice bellowing the incantation as well but Severus just stood, his breathing so harsh, he felt as if his lungs and throat were filled with cut glass. He did not understand how his lungs were still working because he knew that his heart was just a dead, leaden lump in the centre of his chest.

Albus and Arthur rushed forward, jostling Severus who nearly fell again. And then he saw something else that should have been the catalyst that turned his brain and muscles to jelly, but instead, it gave a further jolt to his adrenal glands and strength returned to his muscles, and his brain cleared. He shot forwards and nearly stood on the large male body that lay beside a pathetic rag doll spread eagled on the damp grass.

Oh, Jesus, God, Merlin...please, please, please don't let them have taken him! Severus threw himself down beside the limp body and began chafing frozen cheeks, but there was no response. Wake up, Harry! Wake up!

The prostrate man who had a hold of Harry's hand was struggling against Albus and Arthur's ministrations and Severus heard a croaked "Harry," which delivered a kick to his midsection.

Lupin! What the hell was Lupin doing here? And why had he succumbed? Severus knew Lupin cast a strong Patronus. Had he found Harry like this and been too concerned to be able to protect himself? Or had they both succumbed together?

These thoughts whirled in Severus's mind, making him light headed and unable to do anything truly constructive to deal with Harry. It was like his brain had turned to nothing more substantial than the eerie miasma that surrounded their little island of light and activity. He raised frantic eyes to Albus.

"Albus," he croaked. "Help him!" Albus did not pause to question Severus's lack of practicality, even though it was a very unusual state of affairs indeed for Severus Snape to find himself so utterly useless in the face of an emergency. It was as though every ounce of his intelligence had been leached away by the Dementors, rather than his soul.

All Albus had to do was turn on his knees to face Harry. He would have attended to the child first if he had been cognizant of the fact that Severus was not functioning up to par, because he had seen immediately that Harry was already unconscious while Remus had been struggling. Albus had naturally assumed that Severus was ascertaining his son's condition. But no...

The black eyes that usually only showed anger, disdain, irritation or boredom were now sunken and glittering with feverish distress and the pale face stretched tight across high cheekbones glowed like a wax work in the brilliant light cast by Albus's Phoenix.

Amazingly, after the last of the Dementors had been chased off, Albus's last phoenix, instead of vanishing, had returned, and was flying in a circle around the small huddle of humans. Arthur was still compos enough to appreciate the marvel of that-Severus however did not even seem to realise the Patronus was there, providing light for them and protecting them from any further incursions by the fetid, rotting, corpse-like creatures.

Albus's own heart gave a tiny jolt as he looked upon the young boy lying like a discarded toy, but he plied his wand immediately and ran it in intricate movements over the thin, barely moving chest. After about fifteen seconds, an insubstantial, shimmering mist seemed to radiate upwards from the prone body. It rose into the air about a foot and seemed to hover there like a cloud, rather than dissipating into the warm air surrounding them. The mist continued to radiate upwards from Harry's body to join the cloud above, until it had thickened to the point where it began to take on a barely there golden hue. By the time the last tendril of mist had risen to fuse with the cloud, it glowed with deep, golden light.

Dumbledore looked at the mass with satisfaction and then let out the breath that he had been holding. Severus had shut his eyes and dipped his head, the stress of the last couple of minutes leaving him limp with exhaustion.

Albus waved his wand over the golden cloud and it did finally dissipate. "He is whole Severus. His unconscious state has no doubt been brought about by the stress and the cold." Waving his wand over Harry again, he cast a warming charm that enveloped the boy like a protective cocoon.

"What was that mist, Albus?" asked Arthur from where he still knelt beside Remus. He had already cast a warming charm upon his fellow Order member.

"It was Harry's aura." The imprint of his soul," said Albus matter-of-factly. Arthur did not comment any further on the amazing phenomenon he had just witnessed, but once again Albus Dumbledore had demonstrated his prodigious powers. Arthur had never heard of an aura being brought forth to become a physical entity before and he was positive that no other wizard would have been able to perform such magic. Arthur was in awe of the man and he thanked the powers that be that the side of the light had Albus Dumbledore on their side.

Albus now stood and looked down at the two unconscious figures, the age lines upon his face etched deeper by fatigue and worry. "We need to remove ourselves from here in short order. As the Dementors are unquestionably under Voldemort's control now, I do not imagine it will be too long before he learns of their mass congregation here in Godric's Hollow and he will not have to even ponder who might have been abroad in this graveyard.

"Arthur, as the Burrow is the most convenient place for us to Apparate to with our two charges, would you be so kind as to send word to Molly to expect us within the next few minutes." Arthur raised his wand to conjure his Patronus and send it forth with a message to his wife. Albus turned back to Severus who was still kneeling beside Harry, his eyes fixed on the pale, still face of his son.

"Come Severus. It is best that we leave Harry unconscious until we have gotten him away from here. It will also be less stressful for him during the Apparition. He has not Apparated before and you remember how long it takes to become even remotely accepting of the sensation. He has had enough to contend with for one evening, I am sure."

Severus did not react for quite a few seconds to Albus's words, but when he did, it was to lean forwards and carefully pluck Harry glasses from his face. Folding them carefully, he then waved his wand over them, shrinking them to the size of a galleon so that he could insert them easily into the tight pocket of the jeans he still wore. Finally, he sighed deeply and pushed himself to his feet.

With a flick of his wand and a non-verbal incantation, Harry was levitated into the air and into Severus's arms. He was shocked anew at how insubstantial the nearly sixteen year old boy felt in his arms. Something had to be done about Harry's weight, specifically, the lack thereof.

Arthur had levitated Remus also and cast a lightening charm upon him to make him easier to transport. He had thought of rousing him but decided against it because Remus would be too shaky to Apparate himself and if he was anything less than totally in control, it would make side-along Apparition more difficult for Arthur.

"I shall join you at the Burrow," said Dumbledore and he watched Arthur and a worryingly compliant Severus as they both spun on the spot and Disapparated with the louder than usual ‘pops' that accompanied side-along Apparition.

Now Dumbledore turned and trudged the few feet to James and Lily's grave, his phoenix accompanying him, keeping the worst of the mist at bay. The marble headstone with it's gold lettering, denoting the resting place of the young couple he had been so fond, of shone in the bright light, and Albus gazed at it with profound sadness. Twenty-one. They had both only been twenty-one when evil incarnate had snuffed out their lives so that he could get to their baby boy and commit the murder he had set out to commit.

And hatred rose in Albus like lava erupting from a volcano. James and Lily had not deserved to die. No-one deserved to die at the hands of Tom Riddle and his mutilated soul. No-one! Not the very young, or the very old. Not Muggles or Muggleborn witches and wizards. Not half bloods or pure bloods who had the audacity to defy him. And not other magical creatures that even ‘good' wizards held in contempt at times.

Dumbledore saw the gouge marks in the sod covering the grave and he had a vivid mental image of Harry's anguish and the reason for it. And though it saddened him that the child had felt the need to reach out to his dead parents-to ascertain that they had once been alive, he was also glad because it meant that Harry was thinking about his newly discovered beginnings, and hopefully, taking the first step towards acceptance.

Albus raised his wand and smoothed the earthen blanket again. He went down on one knee and placed his own long fingered hand where Harry had lain his smaller ones. "He will be safe until he is ready, Lily and James. And now he has someone else who will learn to care for him as much as you both did." Albus patted the sod. "This new relationship will take nothing away from your relationship with him. You may both rest more peacefully now. He will be well looked after."

And as Albus stood, he saw the shimmering pool that was Harry's invisibility cloak lying near the headstone. He picked it up and stroked the watery, smoothness of the fabric. Then he left the Potter's grave and moved silently, and with a heavy heart across the two rows of graves that separated James and Lily Potter from Dumbledore's own mother and sister.

His phoenix Patronus kept him company until he Disapparated silently from the little graveyard, and then it disappeared.

8888

Severus Apparated into the Weasley's backyard...specifically into the fenced vegetable garden. He actually landed on some young lettuces, crushing them past saving under his booted feet, a fact that did not improve his frame of mind. He hoisted a very floppy Harry more securely into his arms before stepping into one of the furrows between the neat rows of vegetables and striding towards the little picket gate.

The gate was low enough for Severus to raise his leg high and step over, and he advanced on the house, where Arthur, complete with his own burden (and having landed in a more suitable place), was already entering the house.

Severus could hear the excited babble of voices from within and he was still several yards from the back door when Bill appeared in the aperture with a pale faced Ron behind one shoulder and an even paler Ginevra pushing against her oldest brothers arm so that she could get past him

The two youngest Weasley children stopped dead when they saw their potions professor just steps from the house, but Bill strode forward to meet him. "Here, let me take him," said Bill and Severus was about to deliver a scathing comment along the lines of, ‘I am not in my dotage yet, Weasley', but thought better of it at the last second. He could do with a few minutes to compose himself before Molly Weasley started with her inevitable fussing.

He dumped Harry into Bills' waiting arms, perhaps with a little less care than he had intended, but Bill did not seem to notice anything amiss and Severus watched the young man turn and stride towards the house. Ron grabbed his brothers arm and held on, his troubled blue eyes fixed on Harry's face, but Ginevra actually grabbed Harry's hand where it lay motionless upon his chest.

Severus turned away as Bill's voice rang out irritably, telling his siblings to "move out of the bloody way and let me at least get him into the house", before they all disappeared indoors, and he moved away from the ramshackle house where he knew his son would shortly be coddled to within an inch of his life. Severus thought it would be prudent to give the boy some breathing space before he himself descended upon him. He had to make an effort to reign in what he knew would be his first reaction upon confronting a conscious Harry-anger.

He kept moving away from the house, passing a dilapidated old shed and a large chicken coop. All of the birds were inside their comfortable roosting boxes and he heard drowsy clucking noises from within. Continuing to walk, Severus expected to reach a boundary fence, but when he finally stopped, there was still no sign of a property delineation. He was sure that he was still on the Weasley property because he knew that there would be wards in place. Firstly, against an attack by the Dark Lord and his followers as the Weasleys were known blood traitors and they were also known to be close to Harry Potter. Secondly, there was quite a significant Muggle population in the nearby village of Ottery St Catchpole and the Burrow and it's environs would be warded against Muggles straying onto the land.

The Weasley's property was very large indeed and Severus could only conclude that it had been passed down to Arthur, and though that made the Weasleys rich in land assets, they were not particularly solvent. If the land was a Weasley family heritage, Arthur would not be able to sell any portion of it off, no matter how cash poor he was as long as there were Weasleys to leave it to.

Severus felt a slight twinge of jealousy. Arthur Weasley might be a lowly Ministry employee, but he was rich in ways that Severus never would be. He was married to the woman he loved, he had a family that he doted on, and he lived in and owned a beautiful part of England.

Oh, certainly, he, Severus had a high paying professorship at Europe's most prestigious wizarding school, he was one of the foremost potions masters in Europe and he had developed several potions over the years that he had patented and for which he still received royalties. He had also published several texts relating to potions and potion making. These books had been published under pseudonyms because he had been afraid that they would not be published at all if they were associated with Severus Snape, Death Eater. He had also wanted to keep his successes apart from his necessarily ongoing association with the Dark Lord. So, yes, he, Severus Snape was certainly financially solvent-in fact, he was quite well off. He even had a legacy from his own father. A near-derelict, ugly, brick, mill-workers cottage in Manchester. He could not forget his Muggle legacy.

And now he could add a family to his own list of achievements. Except he and Harry weren't a family, were they? And if things between them remained as strained and hostile as they were at the moment, they were never likely to be a family. So Arthur Weasley was definitely much richer than Severus would ever be.

Severus took a deep breath of the cold, crisp air. Here in Devon, the night was clear, except for patches of mist that floated wraith-like inches above the ground, some tendrils seeming to wrap themselves around his feet and lower legs.

Severus looked towards the distant hills above which the ink black sky was dotted with glittering stars and a waxing, gibbous moon was suspended between two hilly peaks, it's light reflecting across the surface of a small lake. A narrow rickety looking dock projected out into the water and Severus directed his footsteps towards it. His boots thudded loudly when he stepped onto the wooden planks and it only took half a dozen steps for him to reach the end. He gazed down into the water, tiny pinpricks of light reflecting in the black depths of his eyes, reflections of the moon's reflection upon the water.

Idly, he thought that he would have to start on Lupin's potion in about four days. Perhaps the fact that the full moon was only a week away may have been the reason that Lupin had succumbed to the effect of the Dementors tonight. Though it seemed unlikely. Severus knew the man's health deteriorated the closer it got to the time of his transformation, but that state of affairs was not usually apparent a full week beforehand.

Severus shuddered as he remembered Lupin's convulsive movements when his, Dumbledore's and Arthur's Patronuses had illuminated the horrific scene in the graveyard at Godric's Hollow. He crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed at the raised goosebumps through his woollen jumper as the vision of an unconscious Harry rose to the forefront of his mind again-a Harry who had looked like a discarded doll that had been flung upon the ground by a petulant child.

Utterly still. His face frozen when Severus had touched it with his shaking hands. And Severus remembered the dreadful fear that had gripped him when he had thought Harry had been subjected to the Dementor's kiss...when he had thought that all that was left of his son was an empty husk.

His son.

How many times in the stress of the evening had that possessive thought crossed his mind? Severus's jaw clenched so tightly, he heard a soggy-sounding clunk as the hinged joints protested their mistreatment and pain shot through his jaw into his middle-ear. He inhaled deeply and relaxed his jaw, clenching his fists instead. He threw his head back and stared, unseeing, at the night sky, breathing deeply again and willing the whole of his body to relax.

Memories of his dealings with Harry earlier that day filled him with guilt, and guilt was not an emotion that sat well with Severus. In fact, he had only ever felt guilt as acute as this once before in his life...when he had learned that the Dark Lord had interpreted the words Sybil Trelawney had prophesied to Albus as referring to James and Lily Potter and their infant son.

There had only been two baby boys born in the second half of July that year-Neville Longbottom and Harry-and the Dark Lord, who could so cold-bloodedly consider killing a baby...a wizard baby, had decided, with no more than five seconds consideration, that Harry was the boy referred to in the prophecy. Of course, the day before, it had been the Longbottom boy. What were the chances of another boy being born with only twenty-four hours of the month left?

Severus remembered his shock, when his master had informed him that Lily Potter had apparently given birth to a baby boy. He could clearly remember his utter devastation at the news, and then his terror when his master had told him, with maniacal relish, that the Potter's spawn was the one...the one whom, if allowed to survive, would be a danger to him. James Potter and Lily were much bigger thorns in his side than Frank and Alice Longbottom had ever been, though they had also fitted the wording of the prophecy. But it had been obvious as soon as Harry Potter had been born, just before midnight on the thirty-first of July that he was the one who could one day vanquish the Dark Lord.

Severus would never have let anything pass his lips about what he had heard that cold, wet, March evening in the Hog's Head, if he had had even an inkling that Lily was pregnant. He had kept his distance from her since the night Lily had begged him to help James and he had heard little of them since. He had not wanted to know anything. He had assumed that they had married, but other than hearing how James had more than once derailed the Dark Lord's plans, he had preferred not to hear anything at all about the Potters. If Severus had known that Lily was pregnant, regardless of when she was due-babies could be born early or late-he would never have related those fateful words to the Dark Lord.

He could call the Dark Lord all the names under the sun and consider him less than human because he had quite happily planned the death of a wizard baby. But what about himself? It had been he, Severus Snape who had related the information he had heard that night in the Hog's Head to his master, knowing that the Dark Lord would consider nothing less than finishing the prophesied infant off. He had known that!

True, if he had not been in the company of another Death Eater that night, he would not have related the words that he had heard. But Reginald Kingston had been a newly branded Death Eater, arrogant and overzealous, and the Dark Lord had made a habit in those days of making his more senior followers take the fresh batch under their wings for a few weeks, teach them the ropes and show them what a good Death Eater did for his master. Severus had hated these baby-sitting duties.

So Reginald Kingston had been with Severus that fateful night when they had seen Albus Dumbledore enter the Hog's Head and converse with the equally old, but decidedly less dapper barman for a few minutes before heading upstairs to a private parlour.

Kingston had been so excited, had been convinced that Dumbledore should be followed and eavesdropped upon. Severus had tried to discourage him but to no avail. After ten minutes of painful hyperactivity, the young man had jumped up and headed for the stairs that Dumbledore had earlier ascended. Severus had followed, to drag the fool away by the scruff of his neck.

It had not been difficult to hear Sybil Trelawney's words. Her voice had been deep and guttural and it had carried easily through the stout wooden door. And the two Death Eaters had heard the first half of the Prophecy before the barman had caught them and slung them out into the night. The boy, excited and eager to please his new master, had Disapparated straight to his camp. Severus had had no recourse but to follow.

Severus had not had time to Obliviate the boy before they were summoned forth into his presence. The boy had been less than eloquent in his excitement and their master had silenced him with a flick of his wand, having little patience for inane babble. He had called upon Severus to relate the news and Severus had had no choice. He had told everything he had heard because he knew that Reginald Kingston would be sure to inform their master if Severus left anything out of the telling. And then they had watched and waited to see who was going to give birth to a baby boy at the end of July.

Severus now raised his head again to look at the sky, his face a mask of anguish. It was all his fault. All of it. James and Lily's deaths and Harry's incomprehensible survival of the Killing Curse. It was because of him that these foretold events had come to pass. And with James being foolish enough to appoint the snivelling coward and traitor, Peter Pettigrew as their Secret keeper, the task had been a ridiculously easy one. The Dark Lord had wanted to carry it out by himself. He had insisted that it be he who destroyed his nemesis.

Killing babies had not exactly been a new pastime for Lord Voldemort and his henchmen. And though Severus had witnessed the slaughter of many Muggle infants, he had never actually killed one himself. In fact, he had been sickened by the wanton slaughter of the truly innocent. Of course, Severus had covered up his reluctance to participate in the blood-sports that his fellow Death Eaters revelled in by explaining that having blood on his hands adversely affected his potion making.

It had taken a long time-a long, dark time filled with horrific sessions of torture and humiliation until the Dark Lord had been convinced that it was to his benefit to exclude Severus from any more blood-letting. But of course, someone as cruel as Lord Voldemort could not conceive that one of his hand-picked henchmen would not enjoy the sports that he arranged for the entertainment of his dedicated followers. And it had been an important weapon in Severus's arsenal that he was such a superb Occlumens and actor. The arrogance of the Dark Lord would not allow him to even contemplate that the most intelligent of his followers could be superior to him in any way. His mistake.

But despite his growing abhorrence of the Dark Lord and his tactics, learning that the child who had been targeted as a result of the prophecy was the son of the woman he had always loved, had made him fearful enough to finally give him the motivation to betray the man he called master, and send him to Albus Dumbledore for help.

Severus winced anew when he remembered how scathing Albus had been that wild evening upon the Scottish highlands because he, in his panic had only communicated his worry for Lily's safety. He had not meant to make James and the infant incidentals when he had asked for help, but Dumbledore had interpreted his panicked ravings that way. His old headmaster had shamed him greatly that night, and that was the catalyst that had pushed Severus into Albus Dumbledore's camp.

He had honestly not meant to leave James and the infant out when he had begged Albus for help in keeping Lily protected. After all, James and his son were his only living relatives and though he knew full well he had never gone out of his way to foster any kind of relationship with James-even when his cousin had expressed sympathy when Severus's mother had died-he had saved James's life...at Lily's behest, yes, but he had still done it. He had not been keen to see it snuffed out by the Dark Lord, especially when that act would also put Lily in the Dark Lord's direct path.

Yes, Dumbledore had given him the final push, but it had been a long time since, that Severus had found the Dark Lord's love of cruelty had a lot more to do with a love of sadism than it did with trying to purify the wizarding race. And contrary to all appearances, Severus did not derive pleasure from other's physical suffering. Oh, yes, he could be cruel and cutting with his students, but he restricted himself to verbal lashings, not physical.

If one of the students was ever ill and required more expertise than Poppy had at her disposal-as excellent as she was at her job-Severus dropped everything to attend the sick child, albeit with bad grace, unless the child was a Slytherin. Even Harry had benefited from his healing skills after one of his more spectacular Quidditch disasters. Of course, the little smart alec had caught the snitch before he ploughed himself into the pitch at about twenty miles an hour. It would have been sixty miles an hour if Albus had not cast another ‘Arresto Momentum' to save the Golden Child's foolish Gryffindor hide again. The boy did not have a ‘self preservation bone' in his whole body.

Severus clenched his jaw again and when another vicious twinge of pain spear through his lower face and ear, he forced himself to relax. He had allowed his thoughts to veer wildly off track and he had fallen into the old habit of denigrating Harry. That was a habit he definitely had to cure himself of if there was any hope at all of him developing any kind of rapport with the boy...with his son.

Severus now turned back and looked towards the house. He could see light shining from several of the windows and every now and then, a shadow passed across the large downstairs window where the curtains were drawn to shut out the night. His son was in there, and if he had finally awoken, he would probably be dreading Severus's appearance.

His son. There it was again. The two words he had been trying to ignore for nearly two weeks. But tonight, fear and worry had brought them to the forth as nothing else had done to date. When he had first seen the birthmark on Harry's leg, he had practically drowned himself in a bottle of whisky, and even when the potion had provided him with irrevocable proof that his magical signature had contributed to Harry Potter's makeup, Severus had gone out of his way to continue to treat the boy with contempt and dislike.

Oh, sure, he had thought the words ‘my son' many times since the discovery. The two words had been like a tender tooth. He had to keep on probing it with his tongue to see if the pain was going to be worse or if it was going to be a bit better. He had baulked at the knowledge for a long time and even when he had made an effort, he still had not been entirely able to forget all that had previously passed between them-he had continued to take one step forward and two steps back, vacillating between acceptance of Lily's son as his own, or abhorrence of the fact that James was also the boy's father.

Of course, Harry had been totally confused by his blowing hot and cold, but he had not known the entire story until this afternoon. Harry had naturally thought Severus was having a hard time knowing that Harry finally knew of the cousinly connection. And now when Severus thought of the boy's violent reaction upon hearing that he was as much Harry's father as James was, he cringed.

But why wouldn't Harry's reaction have been so negative? He, Severus, had made absolutely no effort to break the news gently or with any kind of empathy. No, not even with the memory of his own recent reaction to the discovery. He had treated the shocked, disbelieving boy just as he had always done in one of his classes-unfairly and with resentment overflowing. As if this had all been the boy's fault. In actual fact, of course, Harry was the innocent in all of this. And of course, Severus had known this, but baiting the boy had become so ingrained, he was finding it exceedingly difficult to stop.

But seeing Harry just disappear somewhere inside his own head today had really put the wind up Severus. A compliant, silent Harry Potter was an unknown quantity. Severus was used to the temper-the narrowed eyes and the high colour on the chiselled cheekbones, and the cheeky mouth that denoted the mile wide streak of Gryffindor foolishness that enabled the boy to stand up to him...him, Severus Snape, the man who could cow seventh year students with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. But those telling signs were all markers of the volatility of Harry's temper. True, the boy usually kept it under control, but explosions were inevitable, especially when it seemed-according to Albus, anyway-that he had inherited that temper from Severus himself.

And if the nearly catatonic Harry had not already had him worried, then his disappearance had had him positively terrified. Harry knew that he was number one on the Dark Lord's hit list. In fact, the bastard had renewed his efforts to find and capture Harry after the boy had lain him up, practically insensible and in agonising pain for more than two weeks after the episode at the Ministry. Severus had never seen Albus quite so distraught when he had finally related what exactly had happened that night in the Ministry Atrium-how the boy had been possessed by pure evil. The old man had thought Harry was going to die that night.

Had Harry disappeared today, uncaring of the safety measures that had been put in place for his own safety, or had he not realised what he was doing when he had gotten up from that bed and walked out of number four Privet Drive? Severus needed to find that out before he launched into an attack.

Severus had not realised that he was walking until the clunk of his heels on the boards of the dock awoke him from his reverie. He looked up again at the house, only to find himself staring into the tired, lined face of Albus Dumbledore. Severus had stopped dead upon catching sight of the headmaster, but then his feet started moving the short distance to the start of the dock where Dumbledore was standing.

How had the old bugger known he was way out here? Omniscient as always?

"The weather here in Devon is much more conducive to contemplation than it was in Godric's Hollow," observed Dumbledore, his eyes fixed on his young friend's face.

"I think that the weather was the least of our worries in that graveyard, Old Man," groused Severus, coming alongside Albus, who fell into step with him. They strolled in silence but when they came level with the vegetable garden, Albus spoke again.

"Harry is awake." Severus stopped and looked at him.

"You've been to the house already."

"Yes, my boy. How do you think I knew you had gone off to contemplate your navel?" Severus scowled. "There is nothing to be ashamed of Severus. I know what a shock it was for you to see Harry in the kind of condition we found him in. He is your son, after all. And I know you are trying to decide just how far you should go when you chastise him, but I beg that you try to reign your temper in and ascertain exactly what happened."

Severus completely forgot his own thoughts from a few minutes ago on this exact same subject.

"What is there to ascertain, Albus. I already know what a disobedient, thoughtless little fool he is!"

Dumbledore sighed and that made Severus even more angry. "Do you think that any other child but Harry sodding Potter with his Gryffindor impulsiveness would have reacted by doing exactly what he had been told not to do for the last week, if he had just found out that he was, in fact, not an orphan."

Severus knew that his argument was totally flawed, because it would be almost impossible for Harry to have looked at him as a father when they had been such bitter enemies for five years and when he was still trying to come to terms with their being cousins. His fleeing to Godric's Hollow told Severus that the boy felt he would be betraying James's memory if he even thought about accepting Severus as a father.

Harry had only really discovered James-or at least his memory-in the last five years and now, it would seem to him that he was being told to forget about him because Severus Snape, cousin and enemy, was here to take over the role that James had only had for fifteen months. But the horrific scene at the graveyard wavered into existence again, feeding Severus's righteous indignation, regardless of why Harry had felt a trip to Godric's Hollow necessary.

"Our efforts have all been for naught. He was very nearly killed for God's sake!"

"Severus, do not go in there angry," said Dumbledore wearily. "He is still far from well even though Molly has laden both his and Remus's systems with far more chocolate than can possibly continue to be therapeutic. Arthur and I have had our fair share as well. I am sure she summoned every skerrick of chocolate from every corner of the Burrow. Perhaps you should have your dose before you start berating Harry."

"I do not need chocolate!" growled Severus, Dementors and James ghost whirling around inside his head.

"Really? You are immune to the effects of Dementors, then?" Severus's scowl became darker. "You will at least have a mug of Molly's excellent hot chocolate, Severus. I am afraid that I insist upon it."

"I am sure the fact of you being my boss within Hogwarts and within the Order hardly gives you the right to tell me what I should eat and drink! I am not a child, Albus."

"Then stop acting like one and indulge me. For a man of such prodigious intelligence, you can be markedly thick-headed and stubborn at times. And though I know your desire to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts is our little subterfuge, there is no getting away from the fact that you are expert in the subject and therefore you must know that chocolate is the best thing to counteract the effects of Dementors."

By the time Albus Dumbledore had finished admonishing his Potions Professor, they had reached the back door of the Burrow. Dumbledore led the way inside and Severus, his mask of irritability firmly in place, stepped into the shabby, crowded living room where five heads of vivid red-hair glowed like beacons in the lamp light, making the head of greying, light brown hair and the head of exceedingly messy black hair seem very out of place.

His own black hair and Albus's white, brought the total number of heads in that small room up to nine, and along with the attached bodies, there was not a great deal of room to move.

Severus's eyes fell immediately upon Harry who was propped on the sofa still looking tired and wan, but seemingly happy to be in the bosom of his pseudo-family, especially as his girlfriend and best friend were very close by indeed. Ginevra sat on the arm of the sofa behind Harry's head and was running her fingers through that messy hair, whilst Ronald was sitting at his friend's feet, talking nineteen to the dozen. Harry was lying back, eyes half closed, quite content to submit to the tender ministrations of his girlfriend and happy to let Ronald prattle on.

The noise of the door opening had all eyes turning towards himself and Albus. As soon as Molly saw him, she jumped up from where she had been sitting in the adult huddle around Lupin and hurried into the kitchen. Harry's eyes opened fully and when he saw Severus, he paled even further and hoisted himself upright on very shaky arms.

Severus couldn't help it. The anger that he had tried to whip up outside, faded in the face of Harry's obvious wariness. Severus saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he tried to swallow the lump that must have taken up residence in his throat on catching sight of him. Ginevra glared furiously, more worried about Harry's peace of mind than she was about Professor Snape's wrath. Severus was quietly amused. She was like a female lion protecting her young.

Severus delved into his jean's pocket and pulled out Harry's glasses. He tapped them with his wand, transforming them back to their original size. He stepped forward and held them out to Harry, who looked at them wide eyed for several seconds, as if expecting them to transform into a cobra ready to strike. But then he raised a shaky hand to take them. He slid them onto his nose and then looked down at his lap, where he began to pluck at the pile of the multi-coloured crocheted rug that Molly had tucked around him. He muttered a resentful sounding ‘thank you', but he would not look at Severus again, now that he would be able to see him clearly.

All of those present were interested in the exchange between Severus and Harry, but Molly entering the living room again with a steaming mug of hot chocolate which she thrust into Severus's hand before he could protest, had all eyes focusing solely on him. Severus still did not want any chocolate-he felt perfectly well-but when the rich, velvety aroma stimulated his olfactory nerve, he closed his eyes and seemingly against his will, raised the cup to his lips. He sipped with relish despite his claims of not needing the healing affects of the simple but delicious remedy. It seemed that Molly Weasley's culinary skills even extended to turning a mug of hot chocolate into a gourmet's dream. Severus had to wonder what her potion making skills had been like when she was at school.

His three students stared wide-eyed. Apparently, the sight of their most hated teacher doing something as frivolous as drinking a cup of rich, creamy hot chocolate, was too surreal for words. Severus kept his eyes on Harry over the top of his mug and though Harry had stared at him along with the youngest Weasley siblings as he savoured his drink, he lowered his eyes back down to his lap quickly. His fingers had continued their palsied activity even whilst he had been watching Severus.

Severus finished the final dregs of his drink and then he seemed to be weighing the empty weight of the mug in his hand, tapping the bottom of it against his open palm. His concentrated gaze must have unnerved Harry, because the boy lifted his pale face again to stare back.

"You and I have some things to discuss, Mr Potter," Severus said. ‘But I think tomorrow morning will be early enough." He allowed his black eyes to travel to a silently fuming Ginny.

"And pleasant though I am sure your ministrations are, Miss Weasley, I think that what Mr Potter actually needs is a good night's sleep."

Ginny jumped to her feet, her temper exploding from her with all the force of a Stunning Spell. Severus was quite surprised she had managed to keep herself in check for so long. "You can't tell me what to do here, Professor Snape," she said loudly.

Before Severus could tell her to mind her tongue and point out that it was his word that was law when it came to what was good for Harry and what was superfluous to needs, Arthur and Molly had both rushed forward-Molly to

grasp her daughter's shoulders firmly to turn her about and steer her from the room, and Arthur, to help Harry off the couch, where he had pushed himself into a sitting position and where he had taken over his girlfriend's job of shooting death glares at Severus.

"I think you can go to your room, Miss if you are incapable of treating Professor Snape appropriately!" admonished Molly as she frog-marched the small virago from the room.

Severus thought he heard a muttered, "I was treating him appropriately."

"Don't you dare start in on her," bit out Harry and Severus raised his eyebrows at the boy's tone. "You can yell at me all you like. I'm used to it after all. But you leave Ginny alone!"

"Come along, Harry," urged Arthur. "I think Professor Snape is right. You could do with a good night's sleep."

"I'll go with him Dad," volunteered Ron, and he stepped forward to take Harry's arm.

Harry pulled his arm away, only to stagger backwards a couple of steps, nearly ending up back on the sofa when it caught the back of his legs. "I'm OK," bit out Harry.

"Yeah, mate, I know," placated Ron. "But you know we're right at the top of the stairs, and you have been dancing with Dementors again. So humour me, huh."

Harry seemed to droop, and he had no more objections when Ron took his arm again and steered him towards the stairs.

"Goodnight boys," said Dumbledore, who had remained firmly in the background during the tense proceedings and Lupin and Bill both added their own goodnights.

Severus put his mug down on a small table and had turned towards his fellow Order members who remained in the room when Severus's forearm seared with pain. As he involuntarily grabbed the Dark Mark, there was a crash from the stairwell and Ron's frantic cries. "Dad! Professor Snape! Help!"

Severus's feet were moving towards the stairs before Ron's yells even started. There was not enough room for five adult men to fit into the stair well but Severus was bounding up the stairs when he heard Harry's weak voice.

"I'm all right, Ron." Harry was pushing himself upright and Ron was assisting him to his feet. Harry hissed in another pained breath and his hand rubbed at his scar as the pain peaking in Severus's forearm was apparently peaking in Harry's scar as well. Ginevra and her mother were standing above the boys on the stairs, the noise of Harry's collapse and Ron's cries having brought them running from Ginny's room.

Harry however only had eyes for Severus. Tonight, the pain that both Harry and Severus were experiencing was much more muted than the last time Severus had been summoned. Harry was not writhing around in unbearable agony, though he was obviously uncomfortable.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked, and his hand tightened over his Dark Mark.

Harry nodded. "He's not too angry this time."

Severus looked relieved. "Go to bed." He looked up at Molly. "Have you any Dreamless Sleep Potion in the house?" he asked. Molly shook her head and Severus clicked his tongue with irritation. "Pain relieving potion then?"

Molly nodded this time. "Good. Give him a double dose," Severus ordered.

"A double dose?" asked Molly, alarmed.

"If it is a brew from the apothecary, then a double dose is quite safe, I assure you. I want him to sleep."

"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here," yelled Harry. "I don't want to go to sleep."

"Indulge me, Harry. For once, do as you are asked. I will see you tomorrow morning." He turned to descend the stairs.

"Don't go!" Harry's voice was a dry rasp. "Please don't go." Severus stared at the boy and found that he really wanted to do as he asked, not least because he would be happy if he never saw the Dark Lord again.

Dumbledore managed to get his skinny frame past Severus on the stairs. He gently grasped Harry's other arm. "Harry my boy..."

"No!" yelled Harry, wrenching his arm out of Dumbledore's grasp. He looked at his old headmaster imploringly. "Tell him not to go. He has to do what you say. If you tell him to stay, he will."

"Harry, Severus must do as he sees fit. I do not order him to go."

"But you don't order him not to go either, do you?"

"Harry..." said Severus and Albus together.

"Fine! yelled Harry. "Fine. Just go then. Say hi to Voldemort for me." And with a burst of energy, that wouldn't have seemed possible five minutes ago, he ripped himself from Ron's hand and pushed his way past Ginny and her mother towards the upper reaches of the house."

Ginny threw a final glare at Severus and Dumbledore before she followed Harry. She was a little more decisive than Ron, who just stood looking awkward, scratching the side of his reddened neck.