When Severus stepped out of the fireplace onto his rug, he noticed that some ash had actually had the audacity to attach itself to his sleeve. Mentally cursing, he yanked his wand out of his pocket and practically cursed the smudge away. But the vicious wand movement combined with his non verbal charm and his livid frame of mind not only got rid of the ash, it also left a two inch diameter hole in the fine, summer weight fabric.

Severus growled, much like a growl he imagined the bloody werewolf might make at the full moon. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyebrows hard, breathing deeply in an effort to calm down. After a full minute, he dragged in a final breath and opened his eyes. Looking down at his mutilated sleeve, he pointed his wand at it and calmly thought the appropriate incantation. Finally with his pristine robes restored to their original condition, Severus pocketed his wand again, thinking as he did so that he really had to work on anger management. These physical manifestations of his temper had to stop. If he did not do something to curb these tendencies, he might end up doing something worse to Harry than using a sticking charm or a tongue tie charm on him.

Feeling much calmer now, Severus looked around the sitting room, belatedly surprised that Harry was not slouched, sulking in an armchair, or lying on the sofa. Concluding that Harry must be in his room, and recalling the reason for the boy's precipitate departure from Albus's office, Severus thought he was probably sulking in his room, and he strode through the dining area. The bedroom door was closed and Severus stood for several indecisive seconds, trying to decide whether to knock or just barge in.

He had to admit the latter would give him more satisfaction because the aggressiveness of the action approximated the depth of his newly restored ire, but the mornings advances in his and Harry's relationship dictated that he proceed with more restraint. So he announced his presence with a rap on the door...a sharp rap!

When no invitation to enter was forthcoming, Severus forced back his growing irritation and rapped again. If Harry was just ignoring him...

Severus put his ear to the door and though there was still no raised voice either bidding him to enter or ordering him to ‘get lost', Severus heard a muffled thump and then a soft-his eyebrows drew together-titter?

What in the name of Merlin...Severus pushed open the door. The room was empty. Without conscious thought, he took one...two...three steps into the room. Black eyes took everything in, in one sweeping glance. The door leading to the tiny bathroom was open...the bathroom was empty, however. The wardrobe was shut as were all the drawers in the tallboy and the top of the dresser, the desk and the bedside drawers were still devoid of any of Harry's possessions. But Severus saw immediately that everything was not as it had been left a week ago-the day Harry had discovered his new room and the day he had been forced to abandon it.

One edge of the burgundy and gold rug next to the bed was flipped back on itself and the Gryffindor scarlet bedspread looked like it had been grasped in a fist and pulled askew down the side of the bed...the far side of the bed. The bed itself was no longer flush with the wall.

The sweet, cloying, alcoholic smell of mead invaded Severus's senses at exactly the same time as more drunken laughter floated up from behind the mussed and displaced bed. And then the bed moved, scraping on the stone floor and the quilt was being yanked further down the side.

Severus could feel fury bubbling up in him like molten lava. He pulled his wand out with a hand that shook slightly with his rage. "Accio bed!" The bed shot towards Severus, to reveal Harry sprawled on the floor, right up against the wall. He still had the quilt grasped in one hand and the other hand held a bottle.

Somehow, the bloody, idiot child had tipped himself off the bed and he had ended up squashed between it and the wall. He had obviously been unable to move and had been trying to drag himself upright by pulling on the quilt. When the bed had obeyed Severus's summoning charm, Harry's head had smacked back against the floor. Severus heard the dull crack but Harry was so drunk, he was totally oblivious to any pain.

Harry groggily lifted his head and with his glasses askew, he tried to focus on Severus who had skirted the end of the bed and was now standing over his son. Harry's eyelids and head both lost the fight with gravity and his eyelids dropped as if they had lead weights attached to them and his head fell back onto the hard, stone floor again with another dull crack. His yelp of pain was mixed with another drunken laugh and it came out as a strangled snort. It was as if the sight of Severus was the funniest thing he had ever seen because the laughter continued. Liquid was dribbling from the narrow opening of the bottle onto Harry's stomach, left bare because his windcheater had ridden right up to his chest. The remainder of the mead was trickling downwards to soak into the top of his jeans and some was snaking from his navel, across his bare hip, around to his back and onto the floor.

"Accio bottle!" Severus said through his teeth and in a voice that trembled with fury. The green bottle shot into his hand with a loud thwack and Harry managed to lift his head a little again and get his extremely uncooperative tongue around an indignant, "Hey!" when he realised that his bounty was gone. After five seconds, his muscles gave out again and for the third time, his head hit the floor. And now it was definite that something about Severus was very, very funny because Harry had blurted out another peal of drunken laughter.

Severus turned away from the pathetic sight now crumpled on the floor. To give himself time to calm his fury, he stiffly traversed the short space and put the bottle down on top of the tallboy. He stood staring at the bare wall, his arms crossed, one hand cupped around his mouth and attempting to block out the sound of the intermittent outbursts of hysterical laughter from the drunken teen.

Severus knew that bottle of mead had practically been full, Albus had given it to him for his birthday and he had opened the bottle and shared a small tipple with the headmaster that evening back in January. He hadn't touched it since because he was not that fond of the sweet concoction. Obviously, the sweetness hadn't been a problem for Harry. In fact, that had probably been the reason why he had been able to consume so much of the bloody stuff. Severus wasn't sure, but he didn't think that Harry would have had much experience with alcohol, other than butter beer with its minuscule alcoholic content. The mead would have seemed like a cordial to him.

All of which did not excuse the fact that the idiot child knew that the mead was alcoholic as he had been offered a glass in Albus's rooms. He also knew he was underage and he had stolen the full bottle from Severus's stock of alcoholic beverages. And though Severus knew that teenagers had been put on Earth just to drive the adults around them to drink, if there was one teen in wizarding Britain who should not lose control like this, it was Harry. If the Dark Lord should decide to attack Harry's defences at the moment...well, he would be totally vulnerable. Severus did not want to think about what the combination of his drunken state and the less than gentle invasion of the mind that that foul snakelike creature might decide to instigate, would do to Harry.

He had seen the boy scrubbing at the scar on his forehead when he was showing no overt signs of pain, and he had seen him in absolute agony at times when the Dark Lord's emotions were running high. But not once had he seen the effect on Harry that a deliberate mental attack would elicit. Albus, drooping with fatigue and pale with distress after his duel with the Dark Lord, had told Severus that he thought that Harry would die that night in the Ministry of Magic when evil incarnate had possessed him, so all consuming had the child's pain been.

Severus knew that Harry's experiences with agonising pain were more than most adults would encounter in the whole of their lives. The wonder of it was that the boy was still functioning. Why was he not like Alice and Frank Longbottom...a totally broken human being who was just a biological entity, with no higher function at all?

Severus sighed. And perhaps, therein lay the answer. Harry had imbibed the mead in an effort to forget the terrible things that could well break him. The small tipple he had imbibed in Albus's rooms had probably made him feel warm and reasonably content...it had probably hit him once he had returned to these rooms, after his stomach had had time to release its contents into his bloodstream. And because the taste was not foul, he had decided to treat himself to some more...and more still. And Severus denying him a second glass at luncheon would have made the illicit act of taking and drinking the mead even more of a temptation, tinged as it would have been with rebelling against the edict of a parent. A newly discovered parent with whom he was still having difficulty coming to terms.

A loud snore escaping Harry broke Severus out of his introspection. He realised that the drunken titters had long since died away. Severus moved back and gazed down at the boy whom he now called ‘son'. He looked so young, so vulnerable...younger even than his still tender years. As Severus leaned over and prised the bunched up bedspread from Harry's grasp, he realised that it was only a little more than a week till Harry's sixteenth birthday. No person that Severus knew had ever been through the horrors that Harry had been through in such a short span of years. A little less than fifteen years of horrors actually. Harry's first fifteen months had been those of a normal, much loved baby.

Severus draped the bedspread back over the blankets and then he pulled the whole back to the foot of the bed. He transfigured Harry's damp, reeking clothes into pyjamas and then he cast a freshening charm to get rid of the stickiness of the mead and the smell of alcohol. And then with a swish and flick of his wand, and a non-verbal Wingardium Leviosa, Severus levitated a comatose Harry from his sprawled position on the floor onto his bed. He then pulled the covers up and took off Harry's glasses, placing them on the bedside drawers. As he tucked the blankets around Harry, it struck him that he was once again looking after an unconscious Harry Potter. In fact, the last time he had pulled covers up to Harry's chin, he had just discovered the birthmark that was the beginning of this whole saga.

Severus raised his wand and pointed it in the general direction of his lab and said firmly, Accio Siccus Venenum. After several seconds of silence, he frowned. He glanced at Harry to make sure he was still deeply asleep, he strode from the room. In his lab, he crossed unerringly to the cupboard where he kept the phials of sobering potions, only to find the shelf where they normally sat, empty.

He groaned and banged the door shut. How could he have not realised that he needed to brew that particular potion. It was not like him not to keep track of his stocks. He had thought there was at least one left, but then it came to him that Albus must have helped himself to that last phial to give to Severus to take the morning after his own unforgivable fall from grace after he had found the birthmark on Harry's leg. Because he had not procured it himself, he had not noted that his stock was entirely gone and Albus had forgotten to mention it in the ensuing confusion of confession and revelation.

The potion was not something he could whip up in a couple of hours. It required meticulous preparation and the silver coltsfoot had to soak for 48 hours before it could be ground to a pulp. So the idiot child would have to put up with the harsh reality of a hangover when he awoke. Well, nothing more than that would be needed to act as a deterrent. Harry wouldn't be drinking anything stronger than butter beer for many a long month to come.

8888

Severus appeared to be concentrating solely on the preparation of some of the highly toxic ingredients that were necessary for the Wolfsbane potion...indeed, it was very meticulous work, but he was actually on the alert for any noise coming from outside his lab. He had left Harry's bedroom door open as well as the lab door. Hopefully, Harry would just sleep through the rest of the day and night, but Severus doubted that would be the case. The boy's stomach would rebel well before then.

He had just placed the crushed stems of the Angel's trumpet in the briny solution in which they had to soak until every drop of sap had been leeched from them, when he heard the sound of violent retching. Severus quickly spelled the protective coating from his hands before striding from the lab.

Sure enough, Harry was leaning over the side of his bed vomiting his heart out. Severus had had the forethought to move the rug out of the way earlier, but Harry was making a mess of the bed instead-he had not leaned far enough to the side. Severus didn't even wrinkle his nose at the foul odour that permeated the room, so used was he to unpleasant smells. There was nothing he could do but watch that Harry didn't start to choke.

Severus tried to remain detached-tried to think that the young fool deserved this and more-but as the vomiting continued, and Harry groaned in ever increasing agony between retches as the painful spasms made it seem as if his intestines were being expelled from his body through his mouth, he had to intervene. Though there was little he could do, he had to do something.

He summoned several different potions from his lab and as Harry lay panting and groaning, his face slick with perspiration, Severus first spelled a anti-spasmodic draught directly into Harry's stomach. Severus hoped it would be quick acting enough to coat the lining of Harry's stomach and his duodenum. The smell in the room was now hellish because it was more than just gastric contents that Harry was ejecting, so violent were the paroxysms.

While Harry had enough time to recover his breath and relax fractionally from the abnormal peristalsis-his groans had eased to rapid breaths-Severus wielded his wand and cleaned up the mess on the floor and the bed, as well as Harry's face, hair and pyjamas. Pulling his lower jaw down; Harry's muscles were too slack to fight him; Severus refreshed his mouth. But no sooner had he finished, than another bout of vomiting overtook him.

This time, the spasms were not quite so violent and as soon as Harry had relaxed again, Severus spelled more anti-spasmodic draught into his stomach and duodenum.

For the next two hours, Severus sat with Harry, cleaning up the dribbles of bile that were now all that was being forced out; he spelled potions into Harry and he soothed and refreshed him with cloths soaked in lavender and rosewater, both good for nausea and headaches. Harry remained virtually oblivious to all these ministrations, the only indication that he might know someone was helping him was when he groaned with pleasure when the warm, sweet smelling face washers were applied to his forehead and neck.

Finally, it seemed to be over and Harry settled into a peaceful sleep. After half an hour when nothing more alarming than Harry flipping over onto his stomach happened, Severus dragged himself out of the chair his tired body had been propped in, and trudged first to his lab, where he made sure all his ingredients were being processed as they should be, and then across the small sitting room to his own bedroom where he threw himself down on his bed fully dressed and drifted into a fitful sleep. He remained fully tuned to any noises that might arise from Harry's room. The last few hours had been harrowing and combined with his mostly sleepless state last night and the stresses of his talk with Harry that morning, Severus finally fell into a deep sleep.

8888

Severus didn't know how long he had been asleep; he was annoyed that he had so very obviously been oblivious to the world, but something had definitely impinged upon his consciousness. He lay very still, his ears straining in the pitch black. It couldn't have been Harry vomiting again because all was quiet now. He had just decided that he must have been dreaming when a low moan reached out across the dungeon rooms. It was Harry.

Severus groaned and rolled out of bed. His exhaustion had hardly been appeased and casting a tempus charm, he saw that it was only seventeen minutes past ten. He had been asleep for less than three hours. He felt worse than he might have done if he had not fallen asleep in his robes and with his boots on. He ran his hands over his rough jaw and cheeks and he pushed his hair back, grimacing at the greasiness of it. He felt dirty and dishevelled and vowed to take a shower after he had seen to Harry.

A long, keening noise sounded now and Severus picked up his pace, entering Harry's room and spelling a dim light on. Harry was tossing his head around and the covers were twisted around his legs. There was no tell tale odour to indicate that further retching had occurred, but the boy was definitely distressed.

Severus moved to grasp Harry's shoulder when Harry spoke, his voice emerging, rough and cracked. Severus pulled his hand back and listened to the anguished tones as Harry pleaded with his dead Godfather.

"No, Sirius, don't go! I'm sorry! There's nothing I can do...don't go....please don't be angry. Sirius...SIRIUS! Come back!" The thrashing increased and Harry was now whimpering.

Severus reached out and shook Harry's shoulder a little harder than he had been planning before he had realised the subject of his nightmare. "Wake up Harry!" But Harry continued to twist and turn, and call for the mangy mutt. Severus shook harder and called out louder. But it wasn't until he took hold of Harry's jaw and put his lips right to his ear to bark out his name that Harry jerked awake.

His eyes had a feverish cast to them and he stared into the dim light, his breath coming in noisy rasps. Severus straightened and watched as dispassionately as he could as Harry came back to the here and now in stages. He blinked several times and then he ran his hands over his wet face, grimacing at the feel of the slick dampness.

If he knew Severus was there, he gave no indication. He seemed to suddenly remember the dream because he covered his face again and groaned aloud. After a few seconds, he tried to sit up, but the abuse his body had suffered during its fight to rid itself of the toxins he had willingly polluted it with, rendered Harry incapable of the simple movement. His hands grasped his ribs and he screwed up his face in pain, gasping loudly. And then his face contorted even more and one hand fluttered up to his forehead and the gasp became a whimper.

"Oh, god," he groaned.

"No deity is going to help you through this," said Severus coldly. He probably would have sounded a little more sympathetic despite his initial fury with Harry over his idiotic actions, but then he had discovered that his son was dreaming of bloody Sirius Black. And the fact that it had obviously not been a pleasant dream hardly registered over his pique.

Harry groaned again. "Then you help me," he demanded, showing no surprise that Severus was there, but groaning as he own voice reverberated around the inside of his skull. "Please!"

"There is little I can do, I'm afraid. I have none of the appropriate potion that would effect a complete cure."

"A headache potion, then," he begged around another groan. His "please!" was a tacked on whisper.

""When someone's headache is caused by the fact that their brain has been pickled in alcohol, a normal headache potion is of no use," bit out Severus. "Time is the only cure."

"Oh, God!" groaned Harry again. "I think I'm going to be sick!" And he made a move to lean over the side of his bed but he never made it. He gasped as pain attacked every single muscle from his shoulders down to his groin. As his gut clenched again, and his muscles contracted Harry retched agonisingly, fresh beads of sweat breaking out on his face. Severus waited until the episode had passed before taking up another dose of anti-spasmodic potion and spelling into Harry's stomach.

"Perhaps next time you will not be so determined to do something that you know I will disapprove of."

"I...I just wanted some more of the mead. It was really nice, and it made me feel good," whispered Harry, the pain in his head obviously overpowering him again, if his screwed up face was any indication.

"Do you feel good now, you idiot child?"

Harry began to shake his head but stopped instantly the pain peaked. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"Why am I so sore?" he asked in a whisper. "I feel like I just fell a hundred feet from my broom."

"You were vomiting violently for a long time. Not only do you use every muscle in your abdomen when you vomit, but the violence of prolonged retching can actually bruise organs. I imagine your liver and spleen have been bruised because they would have been rubbing against your ribs and considering that both of those organs were badly compromised by the poisoning, you are very lucky that worse has not happened."

Harry looked horrified and his eyes begged Severus to help him. When Severus just shook his head, Harry turned his head away and covered his eyes with his forearm.

"As soon as I am sure you will no longer reject anything you take by mouth, we will begin with some fluids. You are dehydrated and as soon as that condition is rectified, your headache will ease. Your sore muscles are another thing entirely though. That will take longer."

Severus saw a tiny movement from beneath the arm that indicated Harry understood. That famous Gryffindor stoicism seemed to have kicked in.

"One thing I can do for you is cast a light Somulus charm. I think you have expelled all you are going to and even if not, the charm will not hinder you from answering the urges of your body." Harry gave another almost imperceptible nod.

"Can't you spell some fluids into me?" he asked in a pathetic whisper.

"No. it has to be spelled into your stomach. I do not think you are ready to actually have anything in your stomach just yet. Perhaps in the morning."

Severus saw Harry's lips thin but there was no argument. "You will just drift off to sleep. Hopefully, you will feel a little better when you awake."

Severus moved his wand in a complicated arc over Harry. Within a few seconds, his arm dropped away from his eyes, but they did not flutter open. Severus watched his respirations slow and deepen. He studied the pale face that even in sleep hadn't relaxed out of its lines of pain.

Severus shook his head but he reached his hand out and pushed Harry's damp fringe away from his forehead. The scar was angry against his sweaty pallor. Severus wrung out the cloth infused with the lavender and rosewater. He wiped Harry's face gently and Harry seemed to sigh in his sleep.

After a final gentle wipe of the cloth over Harry's hair, Severus left the cloth in the bowl of scented water that had been spelled to stay warm. "Next time, consider your actions," he said softly before turning away.

But just as Severus reached the door, he heard a whispered, "I'm sorry."

8888

Harry slept right through until nine-thirty the next morning. Severus was still at the breakfast table, perusing the rubbish that passed as news in the Daily Prophet. He was not at all surprised to see that the idiot Fudge had been drummed out of office but he was no happier to see that Rufus Scrimgeour had taken his place. They had gone from an insipid idiot at the helm who surrounded himself with cruel bullies to enforce his policies and undermine his enemies, to a man who was a bully in his own right...but a bully who got things done, none the less.

He was just reading that a rift had developed within hours of Scrimgeour taking office between the new minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, when that very man's head appeared in his fireplace, asking permission for his head with attached body to step through.

When he was ensconced in a chair with a cup of tea, he gestured to the newspaper that Severus had placed aside. "Did you like the write up on Harry?" asked Albus.

"Absolute, bloody tripe," snapped Severus, flicking the paper with a disdainful finger. "The Chosen One!"

"You do not think he is the chosen one after what I told you was prophesied?"

"For God sake Albus, what power does that boy..." Severus pointed toward the bedroom, "have, that the Dark Lord does not?"

"Oh, he has one particular power at his fingertips which your other boss does not have at all," assure Dumbledore.

"What power?" asked Severus, sceptically.

"It will keep for the moment, Severus. I can assure you that Harry is not ready to know yet. I have much to teach him, and I am sure now he has a father, he will want you as his ally."

"You are saying it will definitely come down to a final battle between Harry and the Dark Lord?" said Severus, aghast.

"Say his name, Severus. Do not let him have that power over you as well as that one." Dumbledore gestured to Severus's left forearm."

Severus looked mutinous. "Allow me to play my part the way I see fit, Albus."

Albus nodded his wise old head. "As you say, my boy, it is your part. And a very important one it is too." Albus took another sip of his tea, looking the picture of innocent unconcern. Severus's eyes narrowed as he stared at the wily old codger. Albus never said anything unless there was a reason, no matter how roundabout his methods. Severus was sure that at some time in the not too distant future, Albus was embellish upon that last remark. He knew it would be a waste of time to ask him to do so now.

"Was there a reason for this early morning visit, Albus."

"There is my boy. Molly sent me a message this morning."

Severus stifled a groan. "And?"

"And she wanted to know when they could expect Harry back. I was surprised that you did not allow him to go back last night." he turned his silver head towards Harry's door. "Is the dear boy having a lie in, or is he perhaps in the shower?"

"He is still asleep."

"I take it all went relatively well, yesterday?"

"As well as can be expected. He listened to me and didn't dismiss me out of hand. He has agreed to give this new relationship a chance."

"Well don! I knew you could do it. This bond is something no one will ever be able to take from you Severus. A child is the greatest gift, my boy. You will learn from each other every moment you are together." Dumbledore reached across the table and placed his gnarled old hand over Severus's smoother, younger one where it lay on the table.

"And who will I learn how to be a father from?" asked Severus. "Who will teach me what to do when my son drinks a whole bottle of mead in a little more than an hour?"

Dumbledore stared at Severus for a few seconds. Severus expected him to be shocked, and concerned. But his, "did he indeed?" was a long way from shocked and concerned.

"That is all you have to say?" he asked, irritated.

"Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "how long have you been head of Slytherin house?

"You know very well how long I have been head of house."

"Then you have confiscated more than a cellars worth of illicit alcohol during that time, I am sure. Severus, boys will be boys. Surely you participated in secret drinking binges when you were here as a student. I know I did."

"This is not the same thing at all, old man. Drinking with your peers is a very different proposition to drinking alone until you are so drunk, you fall off your bed into an untidy heap with no one to help you up again."

"If I had not let myself into his room, he would have spent the night on the floor. He vomited so violently, I thought he was going to do himself a serious internal injury. The position he was in on the floor would probably have led to him chocking to death. He was totally incapable of helping himself."

"But you were there to help him. I am sure you were angry, as any father would be because you could see the inherent dangers in the child's foolish action. That is what parents do, my boy. We step in when our children need us. Whether they think they need us or not. And whether they want us to or not."

"He needs a bloody good hiding," ground out Severus.

"You don't think he has had enough of those in his young life?"

Severus scowled to hide his embarrassment. He should have thought before he said such a stupid thing. He had never resorted to corporal punishment with any of his students, no matter the provocation. He had, of course, come closest to physically disciplining a student with Harry himself. He had scared himself badly that terrible day after Harry had helped himself to his, Severus's pensieved memories. He had, of course, since learned how upset the boy had been after viewing the memories. He had not thought that James had been so very cool and clever. He had been ashamed of his father's bullying ways. And yet, he had not said anything about Severus's own appalling behaviour...calling Lily a ‘Mudblood'. Harry's reaction to that episode should have shown him earlier what sort of a person Harry Potter was.

"Forget I said that," said Severus with a sigh.

"It is forgotten," responded Albus, his fingertips pressed together and a small smile playing about his lips. "Now, is Harry going to be allowed back to the Burrow? I do think the child needs to be able to be with his friends...and his girlfriend. Perhaps tomorrow?"

Severus tapped a fingernail against the rim of his cup. "If I allow him to go back to the Burrow straight away, he will think he is being rewarded for his foolishness."

Albus was shaking his head. "I'm sure the dreadful hangover will be a strong reminder of just how foolish he has been. Just I'm sure your verbal lashings will reinforce the physical consequences." Albus cocked his head to one side as though he had just thought of something. But Severus wasn't fooled. Albus Dumbledore never just thought of something on the spur of the moment.

"Unless you are going to take pity on him and give him the Siccus Venenum potion. Then he could go back today...if you have settled things between you, that is."

"There's an idea, Albus," drawled Severus, pouring himself another cup of tea. "What a pity you never told me that you had used the last of the Siccus Venenum when you thought to take pity on me."

"Oh, dear," said Albus, genuinely contrite. "I am sorry, my boy. I did not think. I summoned it, you see."

Severus took a sip of tea and then shook his head. "No. It is not your fault. I was thankful for the reprieve from my suffering. I should have checked."

"Understandable that you did not. It is not as though you have been idle the last few weeks," sighed Albus.

"Indeed," agreed Severus.

"So, poor Harry has to overcome his indisposition the Muggle way."

"Yes. Pity he imbibed a magically enhanced alcoholic beverage."

Albus sighed again. "Yes, a great pity."

At that moment, both wizards heard a disturbance from Harry's room. Periwinkle blue eyes looked into black. Severus sighed. "Let the games begin."

After greeting an extremely under the weather young Gryffindor who had to add extreme embarrassment to his list of grievances, Dumbledore left Severus to deal with his son, reminding him to remember that Molly was waiting for word of Harry's return.

Severus made Harry drink several glasses of water before forcing him to have a shower. Harry bore the whole stoically, but he looked terrible. In the shower, he just leaned against the wall, letting the hot water cascade over his head and bent neck. After fifteen minutes, he desultorily reached for the soap and gave himself a quick lick and a promise. His head was pounding like a bass drum and though he hadn't vomited again, he thought he would several times.

As Harry forced himself to dress in the re-tranfigured clothes that Severus had also cleaned, he couldn't help but think that his new father had been remarkably tolerant, considering that he had wiped himself out the evening before.

Harry only had a vague recollection of the horrors of the night before. His painful abdominal muscles gave testament to just how violent his bouts of vomiting had been. He didn't think that his head would ever stop thumping, and for some reason, he had a huge lump on the back of his head that was throbbing independently of the inside of his skull. Though these other aches in his head had muted the continuous niggle of pain in his scar. At the moment though, he wasn't sure that this was entirely a fair trade.

But Harry knew if it came down to a choice between it and his scar pain when Voldemort was in full cheesed off mode, he would vote for the hangover headache any day.

Moving very carefully-he hadn't bothered to put his socks and trainers on because he would have to put his head down-Harry girded his loins and entered the dining area. Severus was sitting side on to the table, his legs crossed and his hands folded on top of them, obviously waiting for him. He indicated the chair opposite with a dip of his head, and Harry lowered his aching body into it.

There was a steaming bowl of what smelled like celery soup in front of him. He looked at Severus with an eyebrow raised in question. Severus was distracted by that raised eyebrow for a second. Why had he never before noticed that that was a habit of Harry's? Just as it was a habit of his.

"Celery soup?"

Severus blinked and dragged his focus from that finely arched eyebrow. "Celery root soup to be precise. It is an excellent digestive remedy and liver stimulant. You will be able to taste a trace of ginger as well. A natural anti-nausea remedy."

Harry gazed into the murky depths and thought how disgusting it looked. For an instant, he wondered whether Snape was having a joke at his expense, whether this was part of his punishment. But then he realised that his new father wasn't going to poison him; he had spent countless hours trying to save his life and get his body back to being fully functional again. Snape wasn't going to negate all that hard work.

Harry picked up his spoon and dipped it into the murk. And then...well, there was that talk they had had yesterday. Snape had put himself on the line. He had convinced Harry that he really wanted to try to make this work.

Harry took a noisy sip of the soup, expecting to gag. Amazingly, he didn't. Snape was watching his every move; Harry could feel his eyes on him, but he refused to look up as he slowly but surely ploughed his way through the contents of the bowl.

So, if Snape really wanted to make this work, why had he, Harry, gone out of his way to piss the man off? Oh, sure, Harry had been annoyed that they had had to revert to type in front of Remus. But he had known that it was necessary. Snape's continued safety depended on the Dark Lord not finding out that one of his most devoted followers was biologically connected to his arch enemy, Harry Potter.

But knowing that was the way things had to be when they were around others did not make Harry comfortable with the idea. How on Earth were they going to build a relationship if they had to continually flip from being friendly to being bitter enemies and then back again. How was he going to be able to keep it all straight in his head, for God sake? Harry knew that Professor Dumbledore knew everything, but what about Professor McGonagall? She had helped nurse him when he had been ill. Had she been privy to this information? Had Dumbledore told her?

Harry couldn't finish the whole bowl of soup, but Snape seemed satisfied; he didn't argue when Harry put the spoon down. "I can't eat anymore...sorry."

"You've done well. That will help."

Why wasn't the man yelling at him? Telling him that he was a little turd? But Snape didn't call him names. He didn't even yell. Harry's head was starting to pound more with the stress.

"Why don't you just yell at me already?" he cried. He immediately regretted his loud voice and raised his hands to his head, massaging his forehead with the heels of his hands, knocking his glasses askew in the process.

"What would be the point? Why should I expend all that extra energy getting myself all worked up just to make you feel better?"

Harry lowered his hands and stared. "You never used to worry about expending that kind of energy on me."

"And as I am sure you remember from our talk yesterday, I am going to make every effort to change. I cannot sit here and promise you I will never get angry at you, because I am positive you will go out of your way to press as many of my buttons as you possibly can..."

"No I won't," denied Harry.

Severus's head bobbed up and down several times. "Yes, you will. But I suppose that is to be expected. You, after all, are the child. I am led to believe that it is a child's place to push as many buttons as he possibly can."

Harry looked offended. "I can make an effort too, you know?"

Severus inclined his head. "And I'm sure you will. Gryffindor nobility and fairness are ingrained in you. But none-the-less, you will rebel, because as the parent, it is up to me to put strictures upon you. And after having known you for the last five years, you do not take kindly to strictures."

"I don't mind strictures as long as they aren't unfair," said Harry. "Like yesterday, for instance...why couldn't I have had another glass of the mead. That would have been enough then. I would have been happy."

"If that is so, why didn't you stop at just one glass when you found the bottle down here?" Harry swallowed. He really had no answer to that. What could he say? That he just wanted to piss Snape off?

"The mead was just an excuse, Harry. You were angry because I reverted to being Professor Snape within minutes of telling you that we would make a go of things. I understand that that was upsetting to you, but I hoped you would be mature enough to understand."

"I did understand," said Harry. Then his voice became earnest. "But you're right, I didn't like it. Remus is my friend. You know him well too, even if you don't like him. He would never give away our secret."

"Not willingly, Harry. But what if Lupin was captured? What if the Dark Lord broke into his mind. He knows you are friendly with Lupin. He would want to know what Lupin knows about you."

Harry had no answer to that, either. With his elbow on the table, Harry sat and rubbed his forehead. Severus watched him in silence for several minutes.

Finally, Harry could stand it no more. "I'm sorry, all right. I'll never drink again."

Severus sighed. "I am sure at this moment, and maybe for the next few days while this is all fresh in your mind, you really believe that you will never drink again. But you are a normal young man-amazing really, considering everything you have been through-and normal young men experiment. You will drink again, but I hope next time you have the sense to know when you have had enough.

"Drunkenness is not the only consequence of over indulgence of alcohol, Harry. You could have ended up with alcohol poisoning. Your liver could have shut down. And often there is no coming back from that. Your liver has already done the work of ten livers, trying to detoxify the other poison that was nearly the death of you. It really needs a break.

Harry's cheeks were glowing like beacons at the end of this lecture. He really was an idiot. Why hadn't he thought about what he was doing to his liver? He knew that the liver was responsible for cleansing the body of poisons. He had learned it in Public Health at his Muggle school. And Snape had told him that his liver and spleen had been badly affected by the poison. For God sake, Snape had put a protective charm around them while they healed.

"I really am sorry," reiterated Harry, looking Severus straight in the eye. "I'll try to think things through before I think about doing anything stupid again."

Severus thin lips lifted in what might have been a small smile...a very small smile. Harry thought he looked tired, and his guilt intensified. No doubt that was his fault too.

Severus stood and straightened his robes. "We will say no more about it then. How do you feel now?"

When Harry stopped to think about that, he realised that his stomach had settled right down now. His head was still aching, but the bass drum had turned into a bongo. He smiled tentatively. "I've still got a headache, but it's better than it was."

Severus nodded. "Well, if you think you can stand the rigours of another journey through the floo network, I will return you to the Burrow. I think some time with your friends will do you good."

"Really?" Harry's eyes shone as he pushed himself to his feet. The movement was a little too enthusiastic and he gasped, pressing his hands into his stomach below his ribs.

"As long as you wait for a couple of days before you fly, I think you should take your broom with you. I noticed a makeshift Quidditch pitch in the back yard."

Harry couldn't believe it but he wasn't going to argue. He hurried to his room as fast as his body would allow and got his Firebolt. When he reappeared with Sirius's precious gift, Severus held his hand out for it. Harry handed it over without question and Severus waved his wand and said, Reducio!" The broomstick shrank down to miniature proportions, still perfect in every detail. Severus produced a small metal box which he put the Firebolt into. He handed it to Harry. "This will keep the tail safe while it is in your pocket," he explained, handing it to Harry who put it in his jacket pocket.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, but he was unable to hide his surprise that Snape was being so thoughtful.

"My mother gave me that when I got my first broom. Of course, I didn't have anything as grand as what you have, so you need it even more than I did."

"You had your own broom?"

"I didn't get it until I was fifteen. My mother had saved a long time to be able to purchase it for me." Severus turned away, clearly not comfortable talking about his mother. Harry hoped that would change. He wanted to know a lot more about Eileen Snape now that he knew she was his grandmother...one of three grandmothers. Harry shook his head. This whole thing was still so surreal...not least how nice Snape was being to him.

Harry watched as his one time enemy reached for the floo powder. Somehow, calling him Snape felt all wrong now. What exactly did you call a man whom you had called many, many names...and not one of them was nice.

Father? Dad? Pop? Pa? Pappy? Harry snorted to himself. Yeah, he could just see Severus Snape being happy being called any of the last three.

They would have to discuss it...and soon.