"I think the blood that I gave to James may have left him with at least some traces of my magical signature." Severus said the words with careful precision, as if saying them out loud would make them unequivocal fact.

Albus' gaze sharpened. "And I take it that it was something to do with Harry that bought these thoughts to the forefront of your mind. I do not imagine you have been in the habit of dwelling upon the episode in question."

"No, I was not thinking of the episode. Indeed, considering my feelings towards James Potter, you can hardly be surprised that I consigned the episode to the furtherest recesses of my mind."

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly but otherwise remained silent.

"I have a birthmark on the inner aspect of my left thigh, just above my knee. It is shaped like a crescent moon. It is very distinctive. My father had the exact same birthmark in exactly the same place. As did his father. It is a Snape trait, not a Potter trait."

Dumbledore's attention was absolute. His bushy white eyebrows were drawn together in a frown but his usually twinkling eyes were piercing as they pinned Severus with twin lasers.

"Potter has the same mark on his left thigh. It is shaped like a crescent moon. Loathe as I am to contemplate the alternative, I do not believe that mark can be a coincidence."

"You think..."

"You yourself said that nothing is really known about the consequences of one wizard sharing his blood with another. It is not a practice we use in the wizarding world.

"We do know blood transfusions are common in the Muggle world. But they do not have the complicated magical component to contend with.

"And as every witch and wizard's magic is highly individual, it was thought the dangers of transferring some of ones magic to another would cause unforeseen damage, either death or at the very least, the loss of ones magic as it was ‘attacked' by the ‘invading power'."

Severus paused to gather his thoughts but Dumbledore took up the narrative.

"But Lily thought otherwise. By using the blood of a close relative, Lily correctly assumed that any danger would be muted. There was certainly nothing to lose anyway. From what you tell me, James would have died without your intervention.

"But you did not just pass on the life giving properties of your blood to your cousin," continued Dumbledore contemplatively. "You passed on some of your magic as well. And as our magic is the most powerful component in our bodies, James took on some of your makeup.

"With his own magic being so powerful; just as powerful as yours in fact, the addition of yours did not manifest in any overt way within James' body. But it must have settled within his very makeup."

The two wizards stared fixedly at each other. Nothing Albus had said shocked Severus. Indeed, over the last twenty-four hours, the younger man had drawn exactly the same conclusions as his magical superior.

But just as he had every other time his thoughts advanced this far, Severus' mind shied away. He tried to suppress his fear by reciting the ingredients and method for concocting Felix Felicis. Anything to sever the thread before the natural culmination of all the relevant facts could be reached.

Dumbledore however had no such reservations. As Severus glared at his mentor and friend, willing him not to give voice to the ludicrous conclusion, the old wizard did just that.

"So, as strange as it may seem-and in the magical world strange is not too infrequent but always fascinating-it would appear that young Harry has two fathers."

"No! It is too fantastic to even contemplate. No-one can have two fathers, Albus. It is not possible." Severus's voice had risen but Albus held up a placating hand.

"In the magical world, we will never finish trawling the depths of what is possible Severus. As a learned man, you know this.

"Having two human, magical fathers is no more fantastic than a human being able to mate with other magical species to produce the first humans with magic in their blood.

"If, as you say Harry has a mark on his leg that is a Snape trait, then there is no other conclusion to be reached. It would appear that you, along with James are Harry's fathers."

"But it's utter rubbish!" burst out Severus. "If-and it is a mighty big ‘if' and one I will not believe until I see proof positive-if Potter has inherited any of my ‘genes' I think the Muggles call them, then it was a total accident and is something he need never know."

Snape was pacing in front of Dumbledore now and he stopped in front of the infuriatingly calm mage who was still perched on the stone wall and threw out his arm towards the castle. "Sweet Merlin, Albus, if the boy ever found out that he is my first cousin once removed he would probably jump off the top of the astronomy tower.

"Our mutual enmity is absolute. You saw him after he woke up. He was horrified that it was me who saved his life, horrified that he was in my bed, in my chambers."

"All I saw was a child reeling from the shock of finding out that someone within this school attempted to and nearly succeeded in killing him. Harry, as I have told you in the past, has a great capacity for forgiveness, Severus. And to find out that he has family, that he has a father who is living, will, after the shock has settled down, thrill him to his very core."

"I cannot believe you can be so wilfully blind!" screeched Snape. He knew he sounded like a fishwife but he was beyond decorum. "THE. BOY. HATES. ME. And he will never accept me. He would feel that he is betraying the memory of James. Not to mention Black.

"You saw the embittered boy who believes that I am responsible for the death of his Godfather."

"You are quite wrong, Severus. I saw a thoughtful young man pondering and reliving a truly tragic event after the circumstances were explained to him from your perspective. Harry is not irrational, Severus. At least, he is not irrational unless it is less than an hour after he has lost the closest thing to a father that he thought he had and he had just been told by one of the few people he trusted and who had treated him abominably throughout the year that he either had to kill Voldemort, or be killed himself."

Severus stared at Dumbledore for many frustrated seconds and then closed his eyes and let his head fall back on his neck so that his face was lifted to the sky. The darkening purple twilight pressed against his eyelids. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

Dumbledore's voice was soft when he next spoke, as if he was afraid of setting Severus off again. "He needs you Severus. He needs someone strong to stand by him, to mentor him and ultimately, I hope, to love him. He is, I believe, after all you have told me, your son and he deserves a chance to be a son. As you deserve a chance to be a father."

Severus looked at the old wizard despairingly. ‘"Your optimism as usual, astounds me, Old Man. I cannot believe that you unequivocally accept as truth the ludicrous set of circumstances that I have related to you. Not everything in life has a fairy tale ending, Albus. There must be another explanation...there has to be."

"Severus you also believe deep down that the facts all add up to your being, in part responsible for the traits that make up the boy, Harry Potter," said Albus patiently. He stood up and turned towards the castle, his long voluminous oyster grey robes sweeping the tops of the blades of grass. "Come. We will do a paternity test and we will prove it one way or the other."

Severus stared at the old wizards straight back as he strode off. He wished at that moment that he could feel hatred for the man but found he could not. Albus might be manipulative, he might be impossible to reason with but Severus knew, he still had his, Severus' best interests at heart. He truly believed that he and Harry Potter could become a family unit. The old fool was deluded.

&&&&

The two wizards had only managed to walk about fifty yards when a cry from behind had them both spinning around. Severus' hand had automatically reached into his robes for his wand but Dumbledore looked as serene as ever. With reason.

Severus relaxed when he saw the giant form of Hagrid emerging from the trees, hurrying to catch up to them. His lengthy strides had him beside them in less than twenty seconds.

"Ah, Hagrid. How are you this fine evening?"

Hagrid beamed at the pair of them. "Ev'nin' Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape."

"Everything peaceful in the forest, Hagrid?" asked Dumbledore pointedly.

"All's well, Sir. Centaurs are keepin' themselves ta themselves since yeh made em release Professor Umbridge."

Snape's lip curled at the mention of the vile woman who had made all there lives hell during the last school year.

"An' of course, they're a lot more friendly now tha' I've moved Grawpy ta the mountains."

"He's happier there, I take it?" asked Dumbledore.

Hagrid's smile became even wider. "He's bloomin' Professor, thanks to yeh. I jus' got back from visitin' him." Dumbledore patted Hagrid in the middle of his upper arm, the most convenient place for him to reach without straining.

"Are you coming up to the castle for dinner, Hagrid?"

"No thanks, Professor. Not tonight. I've got some left over stew that'll only take a mo ta heat up." The smile slipped from his face. "I was jus' wonderin' how Harry is, though? Yeh said he was out of danger otherwise I wouldn' have left ta visit Grawpy."

Dumbledore patted Hagrid's arm again, this time in an effort to placate the half giant. "There, there Hagrid. You can stop worrying. Harry has finally awoken and is doing well. He is very weak, as you can imagine."

Hagrid covered his hairy face with his two massive hands. "Ah, thank God. Tha' boy is gonna be the death o' me."

Hagrid pulled out a red and white spotted handkerchief as big as a picnic blanket and swiped at his moist eyes. Snape surreptitiously rolled his eyes before turning back to look towards the castle. Slowly, he began walking again. The other two automatically kept pace.

"Hagrid, we hope that Harry will be up and about tomorrow. It will be good for him to get out of the dungeons for a while and so unless something untoward happens in the mean time, you should come up to the castle for lunch."

"I'll be there with bells on, Professor." Hagrid continued to keep the two wizards company as they traversed the gentle slope up to the cobbled courtyard.

"Professor.' Hagrid's voice was tense. "Has Harry bin able ta tell yer who did this ta him?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and shook his silver head regretfully. "I am afraid not, Hagrid. He had no idea what had happened to him and when we told him, he could not understand how he had ingested poison as he had eaten little since the department of mysteries."

"Idiotic child," mumbled Snape and Hagrid shot him a dark look. Then he turned puzzled eyes back to Dumbledore who elaborated.

"Harry being Harry thought that he must have eaten tainted food, Hagrid. Naturally, he did not even consider the possibility that someone had tried to kill him."

Hagrid shook his barbed-wire head. "With everythin' thas happened ta him, ya'd think it would be his first thought." He suddenly looked quite ferocious and his voice rose to a roar as he added.

"When yer catch the mongrel, give him ta me ta deal with."

Dumbledore looked severe as he pinned Hagrid with steely blue eyes. "If we find the culprit, Hagrid, he-or she, will be dealt with in the approved way."

Hagrid dipped his head in acquiescence but he looked no less ferocious.

Dumbledore patted Hagrid on the elbow again. "Well Hagrid, we shall see you tomorrow for luncheon."

"Right yer are Professor." And with a nod, Hagrid took his leave.

"Just one more supplicant worshipping at the altar of the ‘Wonder Wizard of Gryffindor', sneered Severus. But it was a half-hearted effort at best. He seemed to find it difficult to conjure his usual amount of bile and had only said the nasty words because he thought it was expected of him.

Dumbledore chuckled. He and Severus continued across the cobblestones and up the granite steps, finally stepping into the marbled entrance hall that was now bathed in the soft light of the many torches in their wall sconces.

"Perhaps, Severus, your mindset could be altered if you could attempt to see the qualities that Lily contributed to Harry's makeup rather than just seeing his physical resemblance to James.

"I would imagine it must be quite difficult for you to look into those amazing green eyes without seeing the woman you once loved."

Severus' thin lips had compressed into a straight line but he forbore to respond to Dumbledore's gently spoken observation. Instead, he bit out angrily, "If your conclusions are correct, old man, I should be seeing more than Lily or James Potter in the boy. But I fail to see any physical or personality traits that bear any resemblance to myself."

The two wizards had finally stopped in front of Severus' sturdy door after traversing the long maze of dungeon passages. Severus pulled his wand free of his robes but instead of placing his free hand against the thick timber, he directed a challenging glare at the infuriating man standing patiently beside him.

"Oh Severus, now that I have the information you have shared with me, I can clearly see where one trait that Harry possesses and which has always puzzled me greatly has come from."

Severus did not want to ask but his curiosity overrode his stubborn resistance.

"And what, pray tell is that?"

"Neither James nor Lily as far as I am aware ever exhibited the flashpoint temper that Harry has." Dumbledore produced his own wand and pointed it at the heavily protected entrance to his potion master's private chambers.

"I now know where that formidable temper comes from."

The door swung open without any identifying hand being placed upon its surface and the older wizard crossed the threshold into the neat, spartan sitting room, leaving Severus Snape standing with his mouth agape.

&&&&

Severus and Dumbledore found Minerva straightening and refreshing the empty bed and Harry slowly making his way back from the bathroom.

"Ah, good!" said Minerva in her usual crisp tones. "You're both back. Harry has eaten a small amount of dinner..." She gave her young charge a stern look over the top of her glasses. "Not enough, mind you, to keep his owl alive, let alone a young wizard who is recuperating from a very serious illness."

Harry's cheeks had reddened under the gazes of his audience. He allowed Professor McGonagall to chivvy him back into bed where she fussed with the pillows and covers until they were arranged to her satisfaction.

Dumbledore beamed at Harry. "It is still early days, Minerva. I do not doubt that young Harry will have his normal appetite back within short order and from there, will quickly regain his usual energy. "What say you, Harry?"

"Err, I hope so Sir." Harry kept his eyes focused on his hand which was again picking at the pile of the blanket. He was uncomfortably aware of Snapes piercing regard. He was seriously unnerved. He could not understand where the ever present scowl or nasty smirk that usually graced Snape's face whenever Harry was in his presence had disappeared to. It was more than a little spooky.

It surely couldn't be because the man had saved his life. Could it? After all, Snape had saved his life before.

But that act had been performed from a distance; across a Quidditch pitch, in fact. Perhaps getting up close and personal and having to work as hard as the man had apparently done this time was a different proposition. Could you work so tirelessly to save someone and still feel nothing but hatred for that person?

Harry's attitude towards Snape had been just as vitriolic as the potion master's had been towards him. But if he was truthful with himself, he was finding it very difficult to dredge up the hatred towards the man he had declared he would never forgive after Sirius had died.

Sadness and regret flooded his heart at the thought of Sirius and annoyingly, embarrassingly, he felt his eyes and nose prickle with tears. God, please don't let Snape see any sign of tears.

Harry was so focused on his lachrymal discomfort that he had momentarily tuned everything else out. He came back to the here and now to hear Dumbledore say, "...in the Great Hall tomorrow, Harry."

Harry's head snapped up. Dumbledore and McGonagall were smiling at him and Snape was still studying him as if he were a new specimen to add to the stomach churning collection he had on display in his office.

"Err, sorry, Sir. I didn't catch that."

"I was just saying my boy, that I think it would be an excellent idea if you joined the staff who have remained at Hogwarts for the holidays, for lunch in the Great Hall tomorrow. Your professors will be gratified to see you so far down the road to a full recovery. Hagrid in particular has been champing at the bit to see you.

" Professor Snape seems to think that the journey between here and there will not be too taxing for you, indeed, he thinks, and I must say I agree, that the exercise will do you good."

When Harry looked less than happy with the arrangement, Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows rose quizzically. "You do not like the arrangement, Harry?"

"Oh, um...it's not that, Sir. I...I was just wondering if everyone knows what happened to me."

"Ah. If by everyone, you mean the greater wizarding world, then no, my boy, they do not. The only people who know the true reason for your protracted illness are the members of ‘The Order' and your friends, Ronald, Hermione and Ginevra. The rest of the staff just know you have been ill."

Harry looked less than happy. He found himself caught in the black tunnel of Snape's gaze. "There is someone else who knows," said Harry bitterly.

"If you are referring to the Dark Lord, Potter, then you are quite wrong," said Snape, amazingly guessing what Harry was thinking and going into full lecture mode. "I am sure of that because I have seen the Dark Lord several times since your protracted illness, and he has not a clue. The individual responsible for this deed has no idea of the outcome of his or her murderous act, and so, I imagine has deigned to remain silent.

"The staff has been told not to talk about you or your condition and it goes without saying that the members of the Order know to keep their mouths shut. And I have little doubt the same would hold true of the two youngest Weasleys and Miss Granger."

There was a trace of the nasty smirk about Snape's mouth, now and seeing it, Harry realised that he would have been quite happy never to have seen it again. And it only became more pronounced as Snape continued to speak.

"I am sure that if your friends found it too difficult to keep their mouths shut, then Molly Weasley would see to it that they did not open them again for many a long year."

Harry scowled at the smirking man. And here he had been thinking that perhaps the creep was human after all. That would teach him to indulge in flights of fancy.

"My friends wouldn't talk about this to any one outside of the Order, Professor."

"I'm sure I do not know what your friends..."

"Precisely!" stormed Harry. "You don't know my friends outside of your potion's classes. And those classes are only a forum that encourage fear and stress." He wasn't taking any of Snape's crap. Even if the git had saved his life. Again.

"Gentlemen, please." Dumbledore was holding up a placating hand and Harry subsided against the pillows, all of a sudden exhausted.

"Headmaster, I must..." Snape broke off and with a grimace of pain, he grabbed convulsively at his left forearm.

Harry, drowsy as he was, did not immediately realise what had happened. But when Snape swept out of the room without a word to anyone, he tried to throw off his mental torpidity. Something was wrong. He gazed after the departing figure, a frown creasing his brow.

Dumbledore patted Harry's knee through the bed covers and bade him a cursory goodnight before following his potions master. Harry had seen Dumbledore's worried frown. He was pretty sure he knew what was wrong.

He attempted to sit up but Professor McGonagall, looking grim, pressed him back with a firm hand. "You need to sleep, Harry."

Harry tried to peer around her through the open door but when he couldn't see or hear anyone, he looked up at Minerva, his eyes concerned. No matter their seeming inability to not throw insults at each other whenever they were in the same room for more than two minutes, Harry still did not like to think of Snape having to be in the presence of the malevolent force that was Voldemort.

"He's been summoned, hasn't he?"

Minerva reached forward and plucked Harry's glasses off. "You do not need to worry, Potter. Professor Snape is more than adept at his game of subterfuge.

Harry lifted his hand and rubbed his scar. Until this moment, he had only subconsciously been aware that it was prickling. Had been doing so for the last several minutes, in fact.

"He's not very happy," he murmured and McGonagall, who had been straightening the items on the bedside table, looked at him sharply.

"What do you mean, Potter. Have you had a vision?"

Harry shook his head and rubbed his scar harder.

"No. I can just sense his mood. He's not murderously angry for a change but he's not really chuffed either." Harry looked at McGonagall, his green eyes full of misery.

"You'd better tell Professor Snape not to expect to be offered tea and crumpets."

A fleeting smile softened the line of Minerva's mouth but it was gone almost before Harry saw it. Like Snape and the headmaster before her, she patted Harry on the knee, bade him goodnight and swept from the now darkened chamber.

Harry let out a long, shuddering breath. He lay staring at the dark ceiling, his thoughts now centred fully on his hated potions master and the evil wizard who had summoned him. He did not go to sleep until hours later when he heard a door open and close followed by the soft rumble of Dumbledore and Snape's voices.

8888

The next morning, Harry was awoken by Professor Snape who insisted that he get out of bed and join him at the table for breakfast. After staggering to the bathroom where he took care of business, he looked in the mirror above the hand basin. The black untidy hair, the bespectacled brilliant green-eyes and the skinny, pale face with the dark shadow of stubble adorning the jaw belonged to a stranger.

Harry had never seen his face so pale or so drawn. Nor had he ever had such an impressive growth of stubble as he had been employing the shaving spell that Ron had shown him for the last six months. He didn't have time to employ that spell now, so he dashed cold water on his face and attempted to tame his hair by running wet fingers through it. He might just as well have not bothered.

Harry found himself hesitating at the bedroom door leading to the rest of Snape's quarters. He could see his most hated teacher (with the possible exception of the bitch, Umbridge) sitting at a small dining table on the far side of a pleasant, masculine sitting room that was dominated by a huge, rough stone, fireplace. It was flanked on either side by two deep, worn burgundy leather chairs and the third part of the suite, a long, three-seater sofa sat in front of it. Harry could see an attractive tri-coloured rug covering the stone floor within the space separating the furniture and the fireplace.

Snape's back was towards Harry but he could see the man was, as usual, impeccably dressed in crisp, black robes and that his black hair just brushed the high, collar of his white shirt and was neatly groomed and even more amazingly, clean and shining.

Harry attacked his disreputable hair again, trying to flatten it with his hand whilst looking down at his baggy t-shirt and over large pyjama pants with a rueful eye. He wondered if he should change but at that moment, Snape looked around to see him hovering in the doorway.

"Do come along, Potter," he drawled and almost against his will, Harry's bare feet were padding across the cold stone floor.

Snape was making inroads into a plate of bacon, eggs and mushrooms and he was reading the ‘Daily Prophet." Harry stood behind the chair opposite his potions professor and studied the man. He looked his normal, unapproachable self so his meeting with Voldemort must have been fairly uneventful.

When Harry continued to hover, Snape looked up at him exasperatedly. He raised his eyebrows before looking pointedly at the chair Harry was grasping. Harry hurriedly pulled the chair out and sat himself down. As Snape had immediately gone back to his breakfast and the paper, Harry picked up an empty plate and reached for the platter of hot food. He tried to suppress a small hiss of pain as his hands objected; they were nowhere near as sore and stiff as they had been thanks to regular applications of the unguent Snape had given him but they were still not entirely pain free.

He glanced quickly at Snape but the man was thankfully still engrossed in the morning news and the contents of his plate. Harry did not want any extra attention from him if he could avoid it.

But before he could transfer any of the delicious smelling food onto the plate, Snape's drawling voice halted his movements. Obviously, he was not as engrossed as he seemed.

"I do not think so, Potter." Harry looked at him and it was his turn to raise his eyebrows in question. Snape pointed to a covered tureen with his knife.

"You will find your breakfast in there." He picked up an empty bowl and held it out. "And I believe you will find this a more appropriate receptacle."

Harry reluctantly put the plate down and took the bowl. With a final covetous look at the platter of eggs, bacon and mushrooms, he removed the lid from the tureen and eyed the steaming porridge within with little enthusiasm. He thought he saw a smirk on Snape's face before he went back to his own breakfast and the paper.

With some difficulty, Harry transferred some of the steaming porridge into the bowl. When he hefted the milk jug to pour over his porridge however, his hand cramped and the jug crashed back to the table, spilling its contents. Snape, with remarkable reflexes, shoved his chair back and sprang to his feet in time to prevent the white tidal wave spilling onto his robes.

"Potter! What the hell are you doing, you clumsy idiot?" An angry wave of his wand which had appeared out of nowhere cleared up the mess as though it had never happened.

Harry sat as immobile as a statue, too appalled by what he had done to move, his eyes remaining glued to the now immaculate table cloth where the milk tide had spread seconds before. So much for trying to maintain a low profile in front of the man. After all, Snape never needed much excuse to insult James Potter's son.

Harry, who had been expecting Snape to continue to rant, raised his shocked eyes after several heartbeats of silence. The potion master's own obsidian eyes were watching Harry massaging one hand and then the other. Harry opened his mouth to apologise but Snape cut his words off.

"Are your hands still bothering you that much, Potter?"

Harry automatically opened his mouth to say he was fine but with those fathomless eyes boring into him and unpleasant memories of Snape's Legilamency skills, he altered course.

"Yes, Sir. They're better than they were with the salve but they're still painful.

Severus moved closer to Harry. He held out one of his own slim hands.

"Show me."

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second but then he placed his painful right hand in Snapes.

Snape's hands felt cool against the heat of Harry's reddened skin. He had tensed, expecting more pain but Snape was turning his hand this way and that as he examined first the right and then the left hand with surprising gentleness.

Relaxing under the gentle ministrations, Harry asked, "Why are my hands so sore, Sir? I haven't got pain anywhere else any more.

Snape did not answer but when his wand appeared in his right hand again, Harry instinctually tried to pull away. Snape tightened his grip to prevent escape, but not to the point of causing the boy more pain.

"Stay still. The salve has elicited some improvement but your joints are still inflamed." Whilst speaking, the potions master was gently tracing the fine bones in the back of Harry's hand and fingers with the wand A faint yellow glow had appeared at the wand tip and as it bathed the skin in its sulphurous glow, Harry could actually feel it penetrating to the painful tissue beneath and drawing the worst of the pain away.

The operation took several minutes as Snape moved his wand slowly, patiently over all the joints in Harry's abused extremities. When he finally finished, he wasted no time in relinquishing his grip.

Harry cautiously clenched his hands into loose fists and when they did not object too strenuously, he tightened them. There was still a small amount of discomfort but not enough to prevent normal movement. Harry smiled and looked at Snape who had turned away and was in the process of throwing some floo powder onto the gentle flames licking at several small logs in the fireplace.

"Thanks, Sir. That feels much better."

Snape was too busy speaking to someone within the flames to respond and when he re-seated himself at the table, the moment had passed and so Harry held his tongue. It did not escape his attention however, that Snape had not answered his earlier question about the pain in his hands.

The air above the table suddenly shimmered and the empty milk jug filled and steam issued from the spout of the old, beaten silver teapot. Harry assumed Snape had been talking to the house elves in the kitchen.

Snape resumed his seat and without preamble, he picked up Harry's partially filled bowl and added another ladle full of the still steaming porridge to the meagre contents within. He put it down in front of Harry and moved the sugar bowl and the milk jug within easy reach.

"Eat your porridge, Potter. And if you can manage all of that, you may have a piece of toast."

"Oh goody gumdrops! Thanks Dad." The words were out of Harry's mouth before he realised they had even formed in his brain. He was horrified by his sarcastic rejoinder but his reaction was nothing compared to Snapes.

He had been reaching for the teapot but at Harry's words, he pulled his hand back as if he had been burned and his already pallid complexion had paled even further. Those stygian eyes blazed with an emotion that Harry could not quite place. Whatever it was, it made Harry squirm inwardly and he busied himself with sprinkling sugar and pouring milk, aware the whole time that Snape was still boring a hole in the top of his head with that gaze.

What was that all about?

Eventually, the tension lessened and breakfast proceeded in total silence. When Snape finished his tea, he sat and watched Harry eat all the porridge and half a piece of toast. Harry was determined not to be fazed by the careful scrutiny. He would have loved a cup of tea but was pretty sure his hand would shake too much to be able to pour without his saucer becoming awash.

But Snape was obviously satisfied with Harry's food intake. Or perhaps he was just tired of torturing Harry with his fathomless gaze. Whatever, he now stood and straightened his robes.

"Finish up here Potter and then go and clean up. I daresay a shower will do you good. There is a stool in there should you need it."

Harry flushed with embarrassment at the thought of having to sit down in the middle of his shower. Snape of course knew what he was thinking.

"False bravado may lead you to think you are entirely well again." He placed his hands flat on the table cloth and leaned in close to Harry's face. Harry leaned back a little. "Let me disabuse you of that notion before you eschew the sensible course, Potter. You are far from at your normal strength.

"It will take several weeks for you to regain your strength and whilst that is happening, you will act with due restraint and caution. I will not have all my hard work undone by any displays of Gryffindor histrionics and idiocy. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir," Harry hissed through gritted teeth. He fought the urge to tip the remainder of the milk over the git's head.

"When you have finished your ablutions, you will find some new clothes in your trunk."

"Wha..."

Snape held up his hand to cut off Harry's rant. "It surely cannot have escaped even your short sighted notice that you have lost a considerable amount of weight, Potter. All the items of clothing in your trunk were many sizes too big for you even before your illness. They would now look positively ludicrous on you. Much like the disgusting t-shirt and pyjamas pants that adorn your measly hide now.

"This can't be some foolish Muggle trend as none of the other Muggleborns in the school look quite as derelict as you would look in those clothes. Not only are they too big for you, they are good for nothing but the rag bag"

Snape had now straightened and crossed his arms in his usual fashion, each hand tucked into the opposite sleeve, grasping his elbows. Harry's mutinous glare was fixed on the fire but he had sensed Snape taking up this familiar position.

"Professor McGonagall took an imprint of your body and took herself off to ‘Gladrags' in Hogsmead. She has purchased several items of clothing for you."

"Well, thanks for consulting me. It's nice to know that even my casual clothes come under the purview of my teachers, just as every other facet of my life does."

Harry pushed his chair back noisily and stalked off towards the bedroom. "And I better not look like I'm going to Sunday school," he muttered darkly.

"Potter." Harry forced himself to stop but he did not turn around.

"I wish you to come to my lab when you are ready. I need a few drops of your blood for a potion I will be making." At this, Harry did turn around.

"My blood! Why?"

Severus had his lie all worked out. "I wish to ascertain that there is no residue from any of the ingredients that made up the potion that almost killed you."