Harry began wheezing and coughing again shortly before midnight. Severus had been dozing lightly but he woke at once. Harry still lay in his arms, with his head on Severus' chest. Severus carefully eased the child over, sat up and reached for his wand. He sent his Patronus to summon Poppy, and then gently stroked Harry's hair and studied his son's face anxiously. A few minutes later Harry's eyes opened.

"Sev'rus?" He managed a weak whisper.

"Shh, rest easy, son. Poppy will be here any minute and she'll give you some more medicine," Severus tried to sooth him while wondering crossly what in blazes was taking Poppy so long. If he had checked the time Severus would have noticed that it had only been a couple of minutes, but with Harry struggling for breath, every second seemed to last an eternity.

Severus could not bear to remember how the boy had been alone and ill all through the day. That thought hurt him like a physical pain, reminding him of how he had failed Harry again. He sat on the side of the bed but leaned close over his son, holding his hand and thinking that Poppy had better come soon or else he was going to snatch Harry up and head to St. Mungo's.

Fortunately, just then there was the sound of flames roaring in the fireplace and an instant later the medi-witch slipped through the screens surrounding Harry's bed. She was still pulling a yellow robe over a long white nightgown and her dark hair hung loose down her back.

"Here we go, dear." Poppy held a vial to Harry's lips while he swallowed, then cast a dim Lumos spell. She knotted the belt of her dressing gown more securely, and both she and Severus kept their eyes trained on Harry for several long minutes until finally his breathing eased again.

Harry's tense face relaxed slightly. "Thanks, Madame Pomfrey."

Poppy checked him over, holding her wand above his chest while running through spells, and nodded. "You're recovering. It's just going to take a little time. But you're responding well to treatment and this dose should last you through til morning. How do you feel now, Harry?"

"Better," Harry reassured them.

"Do you think you can sleep again now?" Poppy asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"All right then. I'll leave you two to rest. And don't worry, Severus," she added. "Harry's doing as well as can be expected right now. He's not in danger. Try to sleep, the both of you and I'll see you in the morning. Call if you need anything." Poppy flicked her wand, noxing the light, and left them alone again.

Moonlight still spilled through the infirmary windows and Severus peered at his son closely. "Are you truly better?" Harry tended to downplay his own troubles and Severus needed to know that the boy was indeed recovering.

"Yes, I can breathe again now." Harry looked up at him uncertainly. It was hard to ask, but he had to know. Severus did have a tendency to hold grudges. Harry knew that better than anyone. Not that he could blame him if Severus were still angry. Harry knew he had really hurt his father by disobeying him and he felt horrible about it all. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"You said you forgave me. Did you really mean it?" Harry whispered.

"Do you really have to ask? Of course I did."

Relief washed over Harry so strongly that tears came to his eyes.

Of course his father noticed. Severus brushed Harry's hair back from his forehead. "Shh, now, none of that," he said softly. "Everything will be all right, Harry."

Severus lay back down, half-sitting and half-reclining against the pillows propped against the headboard. He held out an arm and Harry snuggled close to him, resting his head on Severus' shoulder. His father's arm curled around him, holding him comfortingly.

"I owe you an apology as well," Severus admitted in a low voice. "I should have checked on you earlier. I should have realised that you were ill much sooner than I did. I'm sorry for leaving you alone for so long, Harry."

"That was the worst," Harry whispered. "Knowing that you didn't want to be around me anymore."

He stared down at the white bedcovers that came up to their waists. At some point during the night someone had transfigured his clothes into a pair of striped pyjamas. Severus was still in his black robes and Harry could see his chest rising slightly with each breath. Then Severus' hand moved and he lifted Harry's chin with his fingertips so that Harry had to look up into his eyes.

Severus was watching him intently, his expression soft and concerned. "Harry, I was very upset, but I never stopped loving you or caring for you. I will always love you. You know that, don't you?"

Harry nodded, but his father didn't look convinced.

"Harry, I see now that leaving you alone was a mistake, but it wasn't because I didn't love you. My feelings for you will never change. I promise you that." Severus sighed. "I was very angry, though, and I was afraid that in the heat of the moment, I might say something that I would regret later. I didn't want to lose my temper...as I did back at Prince Hall early in the summer. I thought it would be better if we were apart until I had calmed down."

He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, they were filled with pain. "But I was wrong. I hurt you even more by staying away. It seems that I always end up failing you, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "You didn't fail me, Severus. It was all my own fault. And I'm not angry with you about what happened at Prince Hall. I forgave you a long time ago. You don't have to feel bad about it anymore."

"I will always feel badly about it." Severus' voice was gruff from the effort of holding back his emotions. "But thank you, son, for forgiving me. That helps."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. And you shouldn't feel guilty about me being sick now, either, Severus. I shouldn't have played, just like you said."

"I know you well enough by now to know that it isn't like you to deliberately disobey." Severus studied him. "It was only one match, Harry. And playing against Slytherin had nothing to do with it. I was only concerned for your welfare."

"I know," Harry whispered. He ducked his head in shame and repeated. "I'm sorry, Severus."

"You have already apologised." Severus laid his hand against Harry's cheek for a moment. "I just don't understand why one Quidditch game was so important that you would disobey me over it."

Harry started to speak, then stopped and looked away, wondering how he could explain how important Quidditch was to him and how he felt about himself.

"It's late. We can discuss it in the morning if you'd rather," Severus said.

But Harry shook his head. "No, it's all right. I want to tell you, but I'm just not sure I can explain."

"Just tell me what you were thinking, what you were feeling," Severus suggested.

Still, Harry hesitated. "I don't want you to think that I'm...I don't know, trying to play on your sympathy or something."

"Just tell me," Severus said softly.

Harry took a deep breath. "Quidditch is the only thing I'm good at. I remember back in first-year, when McGonagall told me that I was going to be Gryffindor's Seeker, I was excited, but really I was just terrified. I thought that it was all some kind of mistake, that catching Neville's remembrall was a fluke and I wouldn't be any good in a real game. I was so scared before that first match that I was almost sick. I'd never, ever played in any kind of sport before. I mean, the Dursleys sure never let me join anything, and even the other kids in the neighborhood would never let me play with them. I guess they were all afraid that Dudley's gang would turn on them if they tried to be friends with me."

"So I was afraid that I'd be really bad at Quidditch and that people here would be angry or would laugh at me, too," Harry went on. "But then...I was good at it," he said, a note of wonder creeping into his voice at the memory. "And everyone clapped and cheered...for me. I couldn't believe it. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before."

He was quiet for a second. "It was wonderful. And well, ever since then, Quidditch has been something that helped me through all the bad times. You know, like in second-year when people thought I was the Heir of Slytherin and were afraid of me. And in fourth-year when everyone hated me for being in the Tournament, like I wanted it. That was one of the things that made last year so hard, too, when Umbridge kept me from playing and it wasn't even my fault."

"All the times when everyone is angry and no one likes me...well, except for a few people like Ron and Mione...Quidditch helps me get through those times. People forget all the bad stuff and they like me when I play Quidditch."

Severus cleared his throat and once again cupped Harry's chin in his hand, lifting it so Harry would meet his gaze. "Harry, you have a great many friends who like you for yourself: Ron and Hermione, the entire Weasley family, and though Neville Longbottom rather annoys me, I must admit that he is loyal and true to you. And I hope you know by now how much I love you. You're not alone anymore, Harry. When difficult times come, you have all of us to help you through it."

Harry tried to smile at him. "I know, and I know it's crazy to let Quidditch mean so much to me, but..."

"But it does," Severus finished.

"It's the only thing I'm good at," Harry repeated.

"Harry, that is simply not true," Severus said firmly. "You're doing very well in your classes..."

"Not for long," Harry interrupted. "I can't do any nonverbal magic and lots of the other kids can now. The professors are going to start marking me down soon."

"No one is going to mark you down simply because you can't do nonverbal magic," Severus told him. "Not all wizards are able to. It's taught because it can be an advantage, but truthfully, in everyday life, nonverbal magic is not a crucial skill."

"It is for an Auror," Harry pointed out.

Severus sighed and was silent a moment before saying quietly. "We'll speak with Albus again and see if he has learned anymore about the slavery spell. Perhaps he will have some new idea that might help."

But Harry doubted it and his father didn't sound very hopeful either. The slavery spell was also part of why Quidditch meant so much to him. Harry hated talking about it, but he supposed Severus deserved to understand that part, too.

He bit his lip. "Severus, I know you keep telling me that the slavery spell doesn't change who I am, and maybe you're right. But...I feel like it does."

Tears blurred Harry's vision and his words came slowly, painfully. "I don't want to whinge on about it all the time, but it's always there, Severus, in the back of my mind. I'm not as good as everyone else. I never have been and now, more than ever, I'm just...worthless."

"Harry," Severus whispered, his face aghast.

Harry shook his head and continued. "But when I fly, it helps. It makes me feel free again, just for a little bit. It helps me feel a little better about myself." A tear rolled down his cheek and he brushed it away. "And that's why I wanted to play so much."

"You really don't have any idea how much we all love you, do you?" Severus said in a pained voice. He held Harry close to him, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

It was too much for Harry and he buried his face against his father's shoulder, quietly weeping. Severus hugged him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Harry's head.

"I love you with all my heart," Severus said softly. "You are everything to me, Harry. I would die for you. I believe Ron and Hermione would as well. So how can you think you're worthless, when you have at least three people who would give their lives for you? Do you remember when we talked at home this summer, right after you tried to kill yourself? We talked about how kind-hearted and courageous you are. We talked about how hard it was for me to admit that I'd been wrong about you all those years, how hard it was for me to acknowledge that I had mistreated you. Remember that, Harry?"

Harry nodded without lifting his head from the solid warmth of his father's shoulder.

"Well, then, do you remember what I told you next? About how you were so generous and compassionate that I finally had to acknowledge it. Harry, you are a wonderful person." Severus kissed the top of his head. "I hope that one day you can believe that."

Harry cried for a while before growing quiet. Severus thought he had fallen asleep, but then he turned his head slightly and spoke.

"Thank you, Severus. I think you're wonderful, too."

Severus went absolutely still. Harry raised his head and saw that his father looked stunned.

Severus finally shook his head. "I'm not..." he began.

"Yes, you are," Harry told him softly. He laid his head back down with a small, weary sigh.

"Good night, Dad."

***

Severus lay awake in the darkness after Harry had fallen asleep, wondering if he had really heard his son correctly or if he had just imagined it. Had Harry really told him that he was wonderful? No one had ever said such a thing to Severus before, and he was shocked at how touched he was. He was a grown man, an adult. He shouldn't be so moved. He shouldn't crave affirmation so deeply.

But Harry's simple declaration meant everything to him.

And had Harry really called him ‘Dad'?

Severus had never in his wildest dreams hoped for that. Oh, yes, they were father and son, without a doubt. But Harry had seemed perfectly content to call Severus by name and Severus had been satisfied with that. After all, it would have been selfish to hope for more. Just having Harry in his life at all was a precious gift.

But Harry had called him ‘Dad' and Severus had been overwhelmed by the rush of emotions that had flooded through him. He was grateful that Harry had gone back to sleep because he didn't think he could have responded without breaking down into tears.

It was a long while before Severus was able to sleep.

***

Harry slept peacefully through the rest of the night and the infirmary was bright with sunlight when he opened his eyes in the morning. Squinting, he automatically reached for his glasses.

Severus was sitting in a chair beside bed and handed the spectacles to him. "Here. How do you feel?"

"A lot better, thanks." Harry felt a little embarrassed after all the emotional confessions of the night before, but then again, it was his father, he told himself. It was all right. They loved one another.

They both started to speak at the same moment and then stopped.

"Go ahead," Severus offered.

"I wanted to ask you something," Harry said hesitantly.

Severus nodded encouragingly.

"Last night you called me ‘son'," Harry began.

Severus waited, but Harry just bit his lip and stared down at his clasped hands.

"Well, you are my son, aren't you?" Severus prodded gently.

Harry quickly nodded. "Yeah, of course, and well, I wanted to ask...is it all right then if I call you ‘Dad'?"

Severus didn't answer right at once and for a second Harry was nervous. But then he leaned forward and took Harry's hands in his own, holding them gently. Harry looked up to see that Severus' dark eyes were bright and when he spoke, his voice was husky.

"I would be very honoured."

Some of Harry's sorrow and guilt lifted and he found himself smiling a little. "Thank you...Dad."

Severus' lips quirked upwards, too. "I should be the one thanking you. It means a great deal to me, Harry, that you want to acknowledge me as your father."

Harry was briefly reminded of how Severus had commented on how well he knew Harry last night, and he thought that it worked both ways. Severus was normally so reserved with most people. But he did let his emotions show with Harry, and he was so obviously moved that Harry wished he had asked to call him ‘Dad' sooner.

"Well, we are a family, right?" He asked.

"Yes, indeed, and we have been for some time," Severus agreed. Then it was his turn to hesitate. "Are you certain you're not conflicted, though? I know how much you have always longed for your real parents."

"You are my real father. I have two real fathers," Harry said firmly. "One of them is dead and he can't be with me. But I think that he and my mum would want me to have a parent here, too, and I think it would be all right with them for me to call you ‘Dad'."

Severus squeezed Harry's hands lightly. "Thank you, Harry."

They were quiet for a few minutes and then Severus looked up and said more briskly. "I have something to say to you, too."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

Severus' voice softened. "Firstly, I wish that we had talked earlier about Quidditch, about what it means to you. I wish I had known before Saturday's match."

"Would you have let me play?" Harry wanted to know.

Severus looked at him steadily. "I could never allow you to risk your health, Harry. But if I had understood that it meant so much to you, I could have tried to help you more, and perhaps we could have arranged some type of compromise like having the match postponed."

"They wouldn't postpone the match just for me," Harry protested.

"We could have spoken to Albus and he might well have agreed. He certainly owes you that much," Severus replied. "It's a moot point now, but please, Harry, in the future, talk with me. I am very observant about many things, but I still have a great deal to learn about emotions. Sometimes I may need you to help me understand. All right?"

"All right."

"Secondly, I was very upset on Saturday. Despite my efforts to control my temper, I have realised that I did say something that I regret." Severus leaned over to retrieve some items from the floor.

He laid them on the bed next to Harry. "I do trust you."

Harry stared down at the Firebolt, the invisibility cloak, and the rolled up parchment that was the Marauders' Map. Then he looked up and gave his father a wobbly smile.

"Thanks, Dad. I'll be careful about how I use them, I promise."

"I know you will." Severus gave his hands one more squeeze before letting go. "Now, are you hungry? Shall I order some breakfast?"

They were eating poached eggs and ham croissants when Poppy came in and hurried over to Harry's bedside.

"How are you this morning, Mr. Potter?"

It was kind of funny, Harry thought, how she called him by his first name when he was ill or when she was worried, and then reverted back to his surname when he was better.

He smiled at her. "Much better now. When can I go home?"

"When the infection in your lungs has completely disappeared," Poppy said firmly. She gave him some more medicine and went through diagnostic spells. "Perhaps this evening. Now in the meantime, you are to stay in bed and rest."

Harry groaned, but he was still weaker than he had first realised and soon after breakfast he found his eyelids growing heavy.

"It's all right. Go ahead and sleep," Severus said. He moved the broomstick, cloak, and map from Harry's bed and scooted his chair closer.

Harry nodded as he slipped his spectacles off and handed them to his father. He lay down, curled on his side, and rested his head against the soft pillow. It was nice, he thought sleepily, just to be able to rest, and to be able to breathe easily again. Thank Merlin he hadn't had a bad case of pneumonia. It had been horrible to be so short of breath, no matter how he had struggled.

It was nice to have his father here, too. But wait...wasn't it Monday? Harry opened his eyes. "Dad? What about your classes?"

"I'm staying here until Poppy releases you." Severus patted his hand. "Rest now, Harry."

Ron and Hermione were there when Harry woke next, sitting on the foot of his bed, one on each side, in their school uniforms and black robes.

"Bout time," Ron remarked. "We've been waiting forever for you to wake up."

Harry goggled at them; then turned to where Severus was still sitting in his chair. "But I'm not supposed to see anyone. I'm grounded."

"Did you know that you looked like a fish when you did that?" Ron asked.

Hermione poked him. "Ron!"

"Well, he did," Ron pointed out.

Severus ignored them. "Yes, you are," he told Harry as he handed over his glasses. "But your friends heard that you are recovering from pneumonia and they have been concerned. They must have come up here to check on you a dozen times today."

He shot a look at Ron and Hermione and continued dryly. "I have no idea how they've managed to attend class between their frequent visits. However, as I am not responsible for teaching them today, I am not going to pursue that matter."

"I decided to allow your friends to visit with you briefly so they can see for themselves that you are all right." Severus stood and stepped to the white privacy screens around Harry's bed. He faced Ron and Hermione. "After this, you will have to stay away for the rest of the week."

He looked back at Harry. "Harry, today is Monday. You are on restriction until the weekend. If you are completely well, then you may go to Hogsmeade with your friends on Saturday."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Dad."

"I will return in half an hour." Severus inclined his head to them and left.

Harry turned to his friends, expecting them to comment on him calling Severus ‘Dad', but neither of them seemed surprised. When Harry mentioned it, they gave him a non-plussed look.

"Well, he's been like your father for a while now, hasn't he?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it's about time you started calling him ‘Dad'," Ron remarked. "I mean, I don't call my dad ‘Arthur'."

Hermione changed the subject. "Harry, I cannot believe you played Quidditch in the rain, after you'd been ill and after Professor Snape told you not to."

Harry grimaced at her. "Mione, please. I've had pneumonia and my dad has already been after me. I don't need you giving me a hard time, too."

Hermione sighed. "All right, then. But I still can't believe you did that. Now if it were Ron..."

"I did it because I hate being a slave and Quidditch makes me feel better," Harry burst out.

They both stared at him.

"Harry..." Hermione moved closer and took his hand, her brown eyes bright with tears.

"Shh!" Ron said sharply. He stood and went to peer out from the privacy screens before turning back to face them. He drew his wand and cast the Muffliato spell.

"Harry, you are lucky that no one else is in the infirmary right now." Ron shook his head as he came back to join Hermione in sitting on the bed. "All this time you've been so worried about people discovering the spell and then you just yell it out like that?"

The blood drained from Harry's face. He stared at Ron, his eyes huge. "I didn't even think," he whispered. "Are you sure no one's there?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, no one else was here when Hermione and I came in and I didn't see anyone else now."

Harry let out a shaky breath. "Thank Merlin."

"What were you saying, about Quidditch helping you feel better?" Hermione asked after a moment.

So Harry told them most of what he'd explained to his father and when he'd finished, Hermione hugged him tightly and Ron grabbed his hand. They didn't say anything, but it was all right. Harry knew how they felt.

Then Severus came back and Ron and Hermione left, promising to see Harry later. Madame Pomfrey did let Harry go home that evening, though she told Severus to keep him home from classes for another day or two.

Harry had thought that the week would drag along, but it went by more quickly than he had expected. He had no more trouble breathing, but he did tire easily and ended up staying home from class all week. Severus arranged for his professors to send his assignments down to the dungeons and Harry studied intermittently throughout the day, stopping to rest when he grew tired.

Severus returned to teaching on Tuesday, but he came home right after his last class and spent the rest of the afternoon helping Harry catch up on his work or playing chess together. After dinner they read or played card games. It reminded Harry again of the summer at Prince Hall, and though he did miss seeing his friends, he actually enjoyed having time to spend just with his father.

By Friday Harry was stronger and Madame Pomfrey pronounced him well enough to participate in the Hogsmeade weekend. He woke early Saturday and dressed in a red jumper, jeans, and new black trainers that Severus had bought for him. Then he headed out to the parlour.

Early though it was, Severus had woken even earlier. He was dressed in his black robes, sitting at the table in the dining alcove and eating eggs, bacon, and toast.

"You aren't coming upstairs?" Harry asked him.

Severus shook his head. "No, as you're going off with your friends, I thought I might spend the morning brewing. I have some interesting experiments going on with flaxseed."

"Well, I guess I'll see you later then."

Severus nodded. "Have a good time, Harry, and be careful."

"Bye, Dad."

Harry Flooed up to a small chamber near the Great Hall. The portraits were all very busy chattering among themselves and they all stared as he passed by, which was a bit odd, Harry thought but he was in such a good mood that he didn't really pay any attention.

But then he stepped into the Great Hall and right away, he realised something was up. Normally everyone was still half-asleep on Saturday morning and the Hall was pretty quiet. But today it was filled with loud excited voices and people were scurrying around with copies of the Daily Prophet. At the staff table Professor McGonagall glanced down at her copy, then gasped aloud and turned pale. She leaned close to Dumbledore and pointed to an article on the front page.

Dumbledore stared at the newspaper and then stood, his face unusually grim. But before he could do anything else, the students noticed Harry. Everyone stopped talking and stared.

The abrupt silence only lasted a few seconds though before Colin Creevy jumped up from the Gryffindor table and raced towards Harry, waving a copy of the newspaper in his hand.

"Harry! Harry! The Prophet says that you're a slave! It's not true, is it?"