“Potter, you imbecile, the results of this potion can be any shade of green or clear to be correct and you get purple? What did you do wrong?!”

“Hey, I did the exact same thing that Malfoy did.”

“Obviously you didn’t, as his potion is green and yours is purple.” Severus stalked to the makeshift potions cabinet, which probably used to hold teacups and searched for a new cauldron.

“How many drops of blood did you use?”

“Um…a few.” Harry said quietly, and he knew his answer sounded more like a question instead of a statement.

“A few? What the hell does that mean, Potter? Three? Four? Five? Do you even recall what the directions told you to use?” Severus slammed a small cauldron down in front of Harry. He poured some of Harry’s unused potion into the smaller cauldron and waited for an answer.

“No”

“Did it occur to you to open your book and, oh let’s see, what could one do with a book? Oh, yes, READ it!”

“I remember the book saying to add the blood of both people and I figured just a little from each person would do. I mean, Malfoy gave me half a vial of his blood! I didn’t think I needed it all! I guess I should have checked, sir.”

Severus picked up Harry’s potion textbook and thrust it towards him. “Read it! Now!”

Severus waited while Harry quickly found the page and read the directions.

“Two drops,” Harry finally said after a few minutes of reading.

“Not a few? Imagine that, an exact number of drops! Alright Potter, let’s make sure that you understand what the results of this particular potion mean. What does it mean if the color is a shade of green?”

“That there is no blood relation between the two people.”

“Correct. Now, what about clear?”

“That there is a blood relation between the two people.”

“What would have to be the relationship between the two people?” Severus waited while Harry thought it out. He could almost see the boy making a mental list before speaking.

“It would have to be a direct relative or a blood relative that’s close?”

“Are you asking me or telling me the answer?”

“Okay, it would have to be direct. Like, um, the other person would have to be your mom, dad, brother, sister, your own child, grandparent, and um…maybe aunt, uncle or cousin…I don’t know!”

“Potter, you’re giving me a headache. Let’s just finish this potion so that we can move on to something else. Now we need how many drops of your blood, Potter?”

“Two”

“And we need how many drops of someone else’s blood?”

“TWO!” Harry was becoming exasperated with Snape constantly treating him like he was two.

“And what color should the potion be when we are done?”

“Green or clear,” Harry grumbled.

“Yes, however, what color will this potion be?”

“Well, seeing how I have no living relatives, direct or otherwise, I suppose it would be some putrid shade of green!”

“No need for hysterics, Potter. Now add your two drops of blood.” Severus watched while Harry pricked his finger with the lancet and squeezed two drops of blood into the small cauldron.

“Now, where is Draco?”

“What? Why do we need Malfoy? I still have some of his blood right here.”

“The blood needs to be fresh, you idiot! Go find him.”

“He said he was going to go take a nap or something. I’m not going up there.” Every since Severus, Harry and Draco moved into Grimmauld Place, Harry had refused to go into Sirius’ old room. So, naturally, that’s the room Draco claimed.

“Oh, fine. I’ll do it,” Severus said with a sigh. “Now, how many drops do I need again?”

Harry gave Snape a death glare. Not that he could pull it off as well as his professor could.

“Alright, the blood has been added. Now what, Potter?”

“Um..you stir it ten times counterclockwise and then you stir it five times clockwise and then you wait two minutes and then the color should settle into whatever color it’s going to be.”

“I just love your run-on sentences, Potter,” Severus said with sarcasm. ‘Start stirring. Surely you can handle that while I try to bring order to this poor excuse for a potions supply cabinet.” Severus went to the cabinet and started taking out various jars and vials while Harry stirred his potion. Severus soon lost track of time and knew that several minutes had already passed when he looked up at Harry. The boy was standing with his hands down at his sides and he appeared to be simply staring into the small cauldron.

“Potter? What is wrong with you? Purple again? If so, you will need to redo the base potion. That’s probably where the problem is.” Severus stood and walked to Harry’s work table. He peered into the cauldron to view the color.

“Potter, you completely stupid boy! Redo the base potion!”

“Why is it clear?” Harry looked up at Severus waiting for an answer.

“Redo the base potion, Potter. Now!” Severus went back to the cabinet and started slamming things around.

“Professor, I need to…”

“Potter, I said to redo the base potion. Is English your second language? DO IT NOW!”

“I need to tell you that Malfoy and I cheated and made the base potion together and halved it because we knew we wouldn’t need that much and if it worked for Malfoy’s potion, and this is the same base, then what does that mean?” Harry finally took a breath and then another. Now that was a run-on sentence and he waited to see if Snape would comment on it.

Severus just stood there and stared at Harry. This couldn’t be right. Severus quickly grabbed another cauldron and added some more of the base potion to it. He went to the floo and yelled Draco’s name. When Draco’s head appeared in the flames Severus’ only response was, “Get down here, now!”

“Add two drops of your blood, Potter,” Severus said pointing to the cauldron with the potion base in it.

Harry did as he was told, but by now his hands were shaking slightly. He kept telling himself he wasn’t good at potions and that he probably just did something wrong. That’s why the results were all messed up. That had to be it.

The moment Draco walked into the room Severus grabbed him and pulled him to the work table.

“Add two drops of your blood to that cauldron.” Severus pointed to the appropriate cauldron and waited.

“What? I already did my potion. It was green. Did you see?”

“Draco, Merlin help me if you do not do as you’re told right this instant.” Severus gave Draco a small shove to move him closer to the cauldron.

“Alright, alright, keep your knickers on.” Draco added his blood and then was quickly shoved out of the way. Severus took a clean ladle and began to stir. Ten counterclockwise. Five clockwise. Wait two minutes.

“Green. See? I told you Potter and I already did our potions assignment.”

“Yes, and Potter did his wrong. We are redoing it.”

“Well, it looks fine now.” Draco commented as he started to walk out of the room.

“Wait! I want two more drops of your blood.” Severus had to clean the cauldron that had Draco’s successfully finished potion in it, as he had run out of spare ones.

He added more of the base potion and waited while Draco added his blood. Then Severus added two drops of his own, proceeded to stir and then waited. Green.

“Draco, you can go now,” Severus said with dread in his voice.

“Yeah, okay, but I’m telling you that base potion is perfect. I pretty much did all of the work on it. And what results are you getting? Green. Perfect…” Draco’s voice faded as he got further away from the potions lab.

“Potter? I am going to remake the base potion; we will both add our blood and watch it turn green. Do you hear me?” Severus looked at Harry for the first time in the last several minutes. Harry only nodded.

One hour later found Severus and Harry adding their blood again. Severus did the stirring and Harry was grateful. Harry knew that with his professor doing all of the potions work, there would be no way to refute the results. The waiting was killing him, and yet he couldn’t look into the cauldron.

Severus finally stopped stirring and placed the ladle on the worktable. He stood, silent, rigid, watching the potion. When the two minutes were up, Severus cleared away all of the contents of the cauldron and began cleaning up.

“Sir, what color was it? I didn’t get to look.” Harry grabbed the cauldron, but it had already been completely cleaned of all potions. Severus didn’t answer as he went back to the cabinet and began putting ingredients away in a more orderly fashion than they once were.

“Professor? What color?”

“Professor Snape! Green? Clear? What color?”

“Listen, since you’re not answering me, I’m going to assume the worst here! Tell me!” Harry was yelling now, losing all sense of decorum.

“Potter, I can’t deal with this now. Go to bed.”

“You can’t deal with it?” Harry knew what that meant. If it had been green Snape would have just said that. This was bad.

“Potter, really, just go get some sleep. I need to think.”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…this is not happening. This can’t be true. I mean, what does this mean? We’re related? How the hell can that be possible?” Harry had backed himself up against the wall and slowly slid down into a sitting position. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate or pass-out, so he leaned forward to rest his head on his knees.

He sat like that for several minutes, breathing in and out, trying to ground himself in reality. He could hear Snape moving around and the clanking of potions ingredients in their little jars. Why wasn’t the man saying anything? Was he in shock? Not likely with Snape. Was he processing the information, working out the mystery, the possibilities?

Harry couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. “Sir?” Harry tentatively said. No answer. It was almost like he wasn’t there. Invisible.

“Sir? Are you okay?” No answer.

“Okay, I’m just going to go to my room, now. Um..maybe when you’re feeling better we can figure this out.” Harry started to back out the door, intending to turn and run the first chance he got. He would send Hermione a letter, tell her about the potion asssignment and ask her what might have gone wrong. The thing was there was a feeling, deep within Harry, that knew nothing had gone wrong with the potion.

Harry was out the door and was just starting to turn around when Snape called out to him.

“Potter.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“I am not sure,” and here Snape paused, trying to collect his jumbled thoughts, “what this means. I will contact the Headmaster as soon as possible and discuss it with him. Right now, I have no answers. Do not say anything to Draco or your friends. In fact, just don’t say anything at all. That is very important. Do you understand, Potter?”

“Yeah.” Harry turned and went quickly up the stairs.

Severus stood, staring at the spot where Harry had been only seconds ago. All of a sudden nothing made sense and he was truly getting a headache. He could not leave Grimmauld Place to seek answers, so he would wait until morning and contact Albus. It was the best he could do right now. Severus locked the potions cabinet, turned down the lights and left the lab. Tomorrow would come soon enough and whether that was a good thing or not, Severus wasn’t sure.

“Severus, I understand that you’re upset, but you really must calm down, my boy.” The Headmaster lounged back into the plush cushions of the only comfortable chair in the study. Severus sat on the edge of the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“Albus, this cannot be true. I never had, well you know, relations with Lily Potter!” Severus was clearly uncomfortable talking about the delicate subject with Albus, his mentor, employer and friend.

“You would be the one to know, Severus. Now, what do we do?”

“I’m not sure. The potion I had Potter and Draco make was a very elementary potion; fun and games and all that. There is a more complicated version of the potion I could make that would show the exact relationship between the two people, not just that there is a relation.”

“Do you feel that yesterday’s potion is not sufficient? Could it have been flawed?”

“Not flawed, exactly. I mean, I did make it, after all. Yet, perhaps ‘not sufficient’ is the right way to put it. Perhaps Potter and I just have similar genes, or there is some relation several generations back. There are several possibilities, when I start to think about it that could have made the potion turn clear.” Severus was now pacing back and forth in front of Albus, his thoughts going in a million different directions. He hoped he didn’t sound like he was simply in denial over the whole situation.

“And this other potion?” Albus asked, leaning forward.

“The other potion could not be refuted. It would even stand up in a court of law. In fact, it is sometimes used to prove paternity in inheritance disputes and such.”

“Well, then make this other potion, Severus, and then we’ll take it from there.” Albus stood as if he were getting ready to leave.

“Yes, I’ll do that. The down side, of course, is that it takes about three weeks to make. That’s a long three weeks when it means not knowing whether or not I’m related to that conceded, arrogant, boy.”

“Now, Severus, it was my understanding that you were all getting along? Yes?”

“It depends on what exactly you mean by ‘getting along.’ I haven’t killed them yet, although I have thought of several ways to accomplish the feat.” Severus walked out and headed towards the kitchen. He knew the Headmaster would follow.

“Tea, Albus?” Severus began pouring himself some of the earl grey that he preferred.

“No thank you, no thank you. I really must be on my way. The Board of Governor’s meeting is tonight and I want to be sufficiently prepared.” Albus walked to the floo ready to depart.

“Yes, let me know what they decide as soon as you can. Hopefully the decision is in our favor and I can return to teaching dunderheads for the rest of my life.” Severus was sitting at the table sipping his tea, not really making eye contact with the Headmaster.

“Severus, you know what happened is not your fault,” Albus responded softly. “I have every confidence that they will see it that way, as well. However, we need to get Harry and young Mr. Malfoy reinstated into school, as well. Otherwise, I must insist you stay here to supervise them.”

“What?” Severus sprang to his feet, a deep scrawl on his face. “If I’m allowed to go back to teaching, then someone else can babysit. What about Molly Weasley? She would just love the opportunity to come here and coddle Potter. In fact, she loves coddling so much, I’m positive she would even bestow some of it on Draco!”

“Severus, if, and it’s just an if, Harry and Draco are not allowed back into school, I feel that you would be the best choice to stay here. You could continue to instruct them in their subjects and you would all three be safe. Even if the governors decide that all three of you are innocent of any wrong doing, it still may not be safe to return. The real culprits of this crime must be caught before I am willing to let Harry, and yes, even you and Draco to return to school. That is my final word on the matter, Severus.”

Severus did not reply. What was the point? Severus sat back down and picked up his tea and took a tentative sip. “You will come get us if the Governors decide to hear our side?”

“Of course, Severus. Now, I must be going. Take care my boy.” Albus turned then and grabbed some floo powder and was gone.

*********************************

Harry was nervous the next morning and waited upstairs for quite some time before going down for breakfast. He knew he couldn’t avoid Professor Snape and that in doing so he would only delay the inevitable. He had heard Professor Dumbledore’s voice earlier and decided not to interrupt whatever was being discussed. Instead, he took a long shower and smiled with glee when Malfoy banged on the door for him to hurry up. Malfoy could just use the smaller, dirtier bathroom down the hall if he was in such a big hurry, Harry thought to himself.

Harry’s mood was much improved since the previous night. He just knew, without a doubt, that something was wrong with that potion. There was no way in Hades that he was related to his professor. Even if it turned out he was, it just had to be some distant relationship, like a third cousin of his mother’s aunt or some other long, far off lineage. Granted, the potion was supposed to indicate a more direct relationship, but one never knew.

Finishing his shower and quickly dressing, Harry made his way down to the kitchen. When he walked in, it was to find Professor Snape sitting at the table drinking tea.

Not saying anything, Harry went over to the counter and began making some toast. It seemed, that lately, toast and jam was about all his nervous stomach could take. Until he was back at Hogwarts there would be no more elaborate meals for him.

Taking his seat at the table, Harry began nibbling on his toast.

“Is that all you’re going to eat, Potter? No wonder you’re so scrawny.” Severus picked up the mornings’ edition of the Daily Prophet and began to scan the front page.

“I like toast,” was Harry’s only response. After a few seconds to chew his food Harry couldn’t take the suspense any longer. “Did you tell Professor Dumbledore about the potion?”

“Yes.” Severus continued to read, briskly turning to the next page of the Prophet.

“What did he say?”

“Not much.” Severus tuned to the next page in the Prophet and Harry began to seriously consider that the other man wasn’t really reading it.

“Sir? You told him, so he had to have something to say about it, some idea of what it means.” Harry was getting quite frustrated with his professor. It wasn’t like the results of the previous nights potion had nothing to do with him. He had a right to know what the next step was going to be.

“Potter, if you must know, I am going to make another potion. I will…” Before Severus could finish talking Harry interrupted.

“But we made that potion already. Twice! What good is it to make it again?” Harry threw down his half eaten piece of toast and sat back in his chair with his arms across his chest.

“If you would shut up and let me finish talking you would already know that I am making a different potion, one that is more refined and accurate then the potion that you and Draco made.” Severus tuned another page of the Prophet.

“Oh.” Harry picked up his toast and took another bite. “When will you make this other potion?”

“I will begin on it immediately after I discuss something else with you and Draco. Where is that boy?” Severus looked up from the Prophet and towards the kitchen door.

“He’s taking a shower.” Harry took another bite of toast and then went to get a glass of juice. “He refused to use the smaller bathroom, so he had to wait until I was done.” Harry sat back down with his juice and looked at his professor.

“And I suppose you took a considerably long time in the shower, doing Merlin knows what, just to irritate Draco?” Severus looked back down at the Prophet but did not read any of it.

Harry blushed at the implication that he was doing ‘Merlin knows what’ in the shower and started to eat his second piece of toast.

Severus signed, irritated that it was almost nine-thirty and Draco had not yet made an appearance.

“So, um..what do you need to discuss with me and Malfoy? We haven’t hexed each other in a few days. We took your advice and that’s helped a lot,” Harry said as he wiped his hands on his jeans, which earned him a disgusted look from his professor.

“What advice would that be, exactly?”

“Well, you said that we should just simply ignore each other, pretend that the other doesn’t exist. Well, under normal circumstances that wouldn’t work, it’s just too tempting to hex each other. But when you said that part about if we don’t straighten up you would do something nasty to us in our sleep, or slip some horrid potion into our food, well we knew you weren’t joking. It was enough for us to reconsider our actions. So, now it’s just dirty looks and an occasional name calling.” Harry took his glass to the sink and rinsed it out.

Severus sighed again and mentally cursed Albus for forcing two teenage boys on him. Bloody Hell, he hated children.

The next several minutes passed in silence. Severus continued reading the Prophet and Harry, having finished his toast, sat, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Soon the silence was interrupted by Draco’s arrival.

“What’s for breakfast?” Draco gracefully took a seat in the chair next to Severus.

“We ate it all.” Harry brought his eyes from the ceiling to Draco’s face.

“Draco, you can fix yourself something to eat. Potter had toast, if that appeals there’s some on the counter. Otherwise, start digging through cabinets and such.”

“You know, I keep hoping to arrive to a nice hot breakfast and I am always let down. Don’t you know how to cook, Potter? You know, speaking of cooking, there was a rumor going around school that your late relatives made you cook and clean like a house-elf!” Draco’s enormous smile was smug as he looked at Harry.

“Draco! That’s enough. Get your toast and get back to the table. We have some things to discuss.” Severus folded up the Prophet, tossed it aside and refilled his tea.

“Toast it is.” Draco went to the counter and quickly came back with a few slices of toast and a few jars of jam.

Harry sat staring at his hands folded on the table. The death of Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley was still to surreal to believe. The second week of his sixth year at school he had received word that there was an attack on his relatives and that they had not survived. There wasn’t even a funeral as there wasn’t really anything left of his relatives.

Harry had not asked for details and had been somewhat disappointed to learn that he wasn’t overly distraught about the matter. He knew he should be upset, but having their deaths come a few months after the death of his godfather…well, Harry was just numb at this point. Part of him was overly joyed to know that he would never have to go back to Privet Drive and another part of him knew that it was sick, twisted and demented to feel any joy at all.

His sixth year at Hogwarts was not going well to say the least.

“So, what did you need to talk to me about?” Draco took a dainty, polite bite of his breakfast.

“We all need to talk. The Headmaster is attending the Hogwarts Board of Governor’s meeting tonight. He will endeavor to explain to them what actually transpired, or more likely what did not transpire the night that McLaggen died.”

“Stupid Cormac McLaggen, had to go and off himself. That’s my theory. Nobody killed him, well, except him! Didn’t make the Quidditch team last year, so had to go all depressed and shit! Weak.” Draco took a sip of tea while keeping one eye on Harry’s reaction to his statement.

“Listen, Cormac wasn’t weak. He was the opposite of that. Self-confident…”

“Overly so and let’s not forget a little cockiness and stupidity and yes, you’ve describe him perfectly, Potter,” Draco said with a sneer.

“I didn’t just describe him, you did! And you have it all wrong!” Harry was on his feet now, fists clenched at his sides.

“Both of you sit down and be silent! I will do most of the talking here. Neither one of you are to say anything unless I ask you a direct question. Is that understood?” Severus was beginning to think this was all a lost cause and that he would not only permanently lose his job but also his sanity if he had to stay in the same place as Draco and Harry much longer.

“The Aurors investigated Mr. McLaggen’s death and ruled it suicide, but that was only because the people most suspected of killing him are the three of us. This should lead the two of you to the obvious conclusion that the Aurors involved in Mr. McLaggen’s case were members of the Order. I, like Potter, do not think Mr. McLaggen committed suicide. It was not in his nature to do so.” Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose trying to pull his thoughts together.

“Sir, we already know all of this, so…” Draco didn’t get far with what he wanted to say before Severus cut in.

“I am summarizing the situation for the slow witted among us.” Severus looked pointedly at Draco and then turned his eyes to Harry.

“Hey, don’t look at me. He’s apparently the one that needs a recap. Why don’t you shut up, Malfoy, so we can finish this discussion and I can go find something else to waste my time on!” Harry was starting to get really tired of Draco’s constant presence in his life and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he totally lost control.

“As I was saying, Mr. McLaggen was killed and we didn’t kill him. Potter, what are your thoughts on this entire situation?” Severus waited patiently for an answer as Harry thought it over. Harry could be wrong, but he thought his professor looked sort of amused as he waited for him to answer. Yes, Professor Snape probably thought that whatever Harry had to say about the situation could only be amusing.

“Well, we know we didn’t do it, right? I mean, we were all together that night. We came upon his body and tried to help him. Then other people came in and saw us with McLaggen’s body and well, they drew conclusions that weren’t right. Those people ran their mouths off and the next thing you know the Governors of the school think we’re a menace to society or something.” Harry looked at his professor and then Draco. He wasn’t sure, but he could swear he saw amusement in Draco’s facial expression as well.

“Potter,” Severus slowly began, “what you’re leaving out is some very important bits of information. One, when we were discovered with McLaggen’s body, I was pouring a potion down his throat and you were holding his mouth open. That looks horrendously bad. Two, Draco had his wand pointed at McLaggen. We know he was doing this in case the potion I gave him made him seizure which it is known to do. Draco would have been ready to put Mr. McLaggen into a binding hex, whichever variation of the hex he chose.”

“We’ve been over this before. We know what it looked like and it looked bad. But couldn’t the Aurors have just seen what potion you were using and seen we were trying to help!” Harry couldn’t believe that his school career and life could be over based on an almost comical misunderstanding of events.

“Yes, well that would be the logical thing to do, however, the potion I gave McLaggen could have just as easily killed him as saved him. Which conclusion do you think would be drawn?”

“Alright, so it looked really bad all around,” Draco said with a little rise to his voice. “And since the Aurors that investigated are in Dumbledore’s pocket we got off the hook with the authorities. Yet, enough students saw what they saw, bitched to their parents, who in turned bitched to the Board of Governors, we’re now looking at expulsion.” Draco stood and began to pace the room, thinking before he continued. “Why would the board be so interested in listening to a bunch of whiny, sniffling students and parents? I’ll tell you why! Do you want to hear my thoughts on the situation, Severus?” Draco stopped pacing then and turned to face his professor.

Severus’ only response was a slight nod of his head.

“Okay, here it goes. My father is in Azkaban, so feeling some embarrassment for finally having to admit that they once had a Death Eater on the Board of Governors they’ve decide to do away with me. You know, the whole ‘we see the error of our ways’ so let’s show everyone that we were wrong and get rid of the Death Eater scumbag’s only son. Now, you Severus, they have never liked. The Board of Governors has probably always questioned your true loyalties and takes this as a great opportunity to get rid of you. And as for you, Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, the boy-who-lived, the Quidditch star…”

“That’s enough descriptors for Potter, Draco,” Severus interjected.

“Yeah, okay, anyway, there are certain Governors on that board who are in the Minister’s pocket just as much as some of those Auror’s are in Dumbledore’s. The idea of getting Potter out from under the influence of Dumbledore and out from behind the safety of Hogwarts walls is just too tempting. Potter’s relatives are dead, he isn’t allowed to go back to Hogwarts, well where does that leave him? In the sole custody of the Ministry of Magic and right where the minister wants him, that’s where. So, that’s what I think is going on. It’s all a setup and we’re running through the maze like little lab rats, right to where they want us!”

“How much thought have you put into this, Malfoy?” Harry was stunned by all the insight that Draco seemed to have on the situation.

“Well, we’ve been over and over it a hundred times since that night, haven’t we? I’m sure everything I just mentioned has already been discussed between Professor Snape and the Headmaster. Right?” Draco turned to Severus waiting for a response.

“It is true that we have been through all of the details from that night and that the Headmaster and I have talked over all of the possible reasons the board might not vote in our favor. What we need to do now is have an understanding between the three of us.”

“Understanding?” Harry didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t want to lie about anything that happened that night. It would just come back to bite us in the arse later on.”

“I am not suggesting we lie. In fact, what I’m suggesting is the complete opposite. If the Board of Governors calls for our testimony this evening, I want both of you to tell the absolute truth. I don’t want to fabricate a story or make-up any half truths. We would just get tripped up in the telling. I want you to tell the truth about everything, even the events that led up to the three of us being together that night. It is common knowledge that the two of you hate each other and that Potter are I are not on the best of terms. Someone on the Board will most likely want to know how, together, we came upon McLaggen. Do you understand everything I’m saying to you?” Severus looked at Harry first.

“Yes,” Harry responded as he sighed and put his head on the table.

“Draco?” Severus turned in his chair to face Draco who was leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, I understand. No lies.”

“Now, Draco, if you would excuse Potter and I, we have something we need to discuss in private.” Severus turned back to the table where Harry was still sitting with his head down on the table.

“Fine.” Draco grabbed up a cup of tea on his way out.

Severus stood from his chair and took his teacup and saucer to the counter. “Potter, I will be starting that potion I mentioned right away. Unlike the other potion, which only called for two drops of fresh blood, this potion requires a considerable about of blood. This potion also doesn’t require fresh, so I should be able to take all that I need now and not bother you with it again. When you’re done in here join me.” Severus walked out of the kitchen, his robes swirling around him.

Great, Harry thought to himself, how much blood would be required? A few drops, he was fine with, but a considerable amount might be a problem. Since the Triwizard Tournament, his fourth year, Harry had a little problem with large amounts of blood. Having someone cut open your arm and using the blood to resurrect a monster was very traumatizing to say the least. Best to get it over with now, was Harry’s thought. He slowly rose from his chair and took a moment to be thankful that he wasn’t about to do this on an empty stomach.

Severus already had everything ready when Harry walked in. He thought the boy looked quite uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do about that. He needed enough blood to complete the potion that would determine whether or not he and Harry were related. Severus wasn’t sure what he would do, what his reaction would be if he were to discover that he was indeed related to Potter. He knew for a fact that the two of them were not brothers. That was an easy conclusion to come to. It was also a given that Harry was not Severus’ father. Yes, that too was an easy assumption. What was not so easy to figure out was how he could possibly be Harry’s father. It just didn’t make sense.

Severus knew he was giving the situation too much thought. This new potion would show what the other had not, that Harry Potter and Severus Snape were in no way related. So, for now he would discontinue any thoughts of the past and the future and concentrate on right now. Right now he needed to get over two-hundred milliliters of blood from Harry.

“Hop up on that worktable over there.” Severus pointed to the smaller worktable on the far side of the room.

“You want me on the worktable?” Harry walked towards the indicated table with some trepidation.

“Yes, on. The higher up you are the better. I want to take the blood from your arm and that will put you, and your appendage, at better eye level.”

Harry walked to the small table and saw several empty vials, a knife, a jar of some sticky gel-like substance and a potion bottle containing something with a strong, foul aroma, as Harry could smell it from where he was standing.

Reluctantly, Harry climbed up onto the table and sat with his legs dangling off the side.

“Drink this.” Severus handed Harry the smelly potion bottle and waited while the boy quickly downed its contents.

“Yuck! That’s disgusting. What is it?” Harry wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt trying to get rid of any last traces of the nasty stuff.

“That is a blood replenisher. While I’m taking what blood I need that potion will help your body make new blood cells faster than normal. It should help prevent you from becoming dizzy or nauseas.

“Fuck! How much blood are you going to take?” Harry stared at his professor as if he was a sadistic psycho who enjoyed torturing young boys.

“Language, Potter and I will need approximately two-hundred milliliters. However, I will probably take a little more than that in case I need it.” Severus stood staring at Harry, giving the blood replenisher time to start its magic.

“Okay.” Harry didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t say no, could he?

“Roll the sleeve of your shirt up past the elbow. It doesn’t matter which arm.”

Harry did as he was told with a sense of growing dread. Did Snape actually expect to take his blood by cutting his arm? Harry quickly rolled up the sleeve of his scar-free arm, the other already having the scar from when Wormtail took his blood at the end of the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. As Harry sat and looked at his unblemished arm he thought he would be sick. How could he sit here and let another person take blood from him, and in an eerie sense, take it the same way it had been done last time, with a knife.

“Don’t be conceited, Potter, I won’t leave a scar, if that’s what you’re worried about. That jar has a salve in it that will prevent any scarring. You’ll have your perfect arm back in a few short minutes.” Severus made sure the vials for the blood were lined up and ready. He picked up the small incision knife, casting a spell to disinfect it, even though he had already done so earlier. “Now, this will sting a little. I’m going to make a two or three inch cut, it will have to be somewhat deep, but not terribly so, then collect the blood in these vials. I will then heal the cut and put this salve on it to prevent scarring.”

Severus reached for Harry’s arm, in order to hold it steady in his firm grip, but Harry pulled away from him.

“Potter, really, you’re acting like a three-year-old.” Severus reached again for Harry and again Harry pulled away holding his arm across his stomach and protecting it with his other arm. Harry folded in upon himself and wouldn’t look at his professor.

“Potter, I really don’t have time for your childish antics. I know you are no stranger to pain. This is not going to hurt as much as a Quidditch accident might. Now stop wasting my time and give me your arm.” Severus was not going to reach for Harry again, but instead make the boy hold out his arm. He would not be foolishly evaded a third time.

“I can’t, sir. I just…um…it’s hard to explain. No, it’s easy to explain. It’s just…”

“Would you please get to the point sometime today, Potter?”

“Isn’t there some other way that you can do this? I was fine, yesterday, when we got blood by pricking my finger.” Harry knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care.

“I cannot get the amount of blood I need by pricking your finger. Now, give me your arm.” Severus used the voice he knew brooked no argument with his students and although Harry flinched he did not relinquish his limb to his professor.

Harry sat there, still hunched over, his breathing becoming erratic. He could hear his heartbeat pounding away, as if the organ had moved from his chest to his head. Nothing happening at the present time seemed to matter. His thoughts drifted back to that fateful day in the graveyard, when for the first time, Harry saw someone die. Cedric. Why did he have to be a noble Gryffindor and offer to share the glory with his competitor? Why couldn’t he have been selfish, just once, and taken the prize for himself? And there had been more death too; his godfather, his family. Who would be next? Ron? Hermione? Ginny?

Harry couldn’t inhale the air into his lungs fast enough. Why couldn’t he breathe? He seemed to be drifting away. Why am I drifting away, Harry thought to himself. Harry saw vivid spots before his eyes, then a swirling sensation and then he was tunneling into blackness.

Severus was moved into action the moment he realized Harry was suffering some sort of panic attack. He rushed to the potion cabinet and quickly scanned the shelves for a calming draught. Finding what he needed, Severus turned only to find that Harry was already losing consciousness and was about to fall off the worktable. Harry’s descent was gradual and Severus was able to catch him in time. He quickly spun Harry around lengthwise on the table to lay him down. By then Harry was completely unconscious.

Severus checked Harry’s pulse and found it to be strong and steady. “Potter,” Severus called, but there was no response. “Potter, wake up.” Severus reached over and not so lightly slapped Harry’s face. The boy began to stir and his eyelids began to flutter and Severus let out a breath he had not been aware he was holding.

“Potter, can you hear me?” Severus leaned over the table to get a better look at Harry’s eyes, which seemed to be dilating normally. Harry’s breathing and color were normal again, but Severus chose to wait a few more minutes before questioning him about what had just happened. As far as Severus knew, this was not a normal occurrence and surely Albus or Poppy would have mentioned it if it were.

“I need to sit up,” Harry said as he began to twist himself into a sitting position. His professor stood there with his arms crossed looking like he was sucking on something sour. Well fine, Harry thought, don’t help.

“Potter! What just happened?”

“Um…I think it was some kind of anxiety attack or at least that’s what Hermione calls it. It’s only happened twice before, so now three times, I guess.” Harry still cradled his scarless arm against his body, not wanting to relinquish it to the knife.

“I know it was an anxiety attack, you idiot! Why are you having them?”

“Well, could it be because I have anxiety!”

“Do not raise your voice at me, Potter. Now, when did you have the first attack?”

“It was, uh…after the Triwizard Tournament.” Harry looked down at his feet, not wanting to look up at Professor Snape.

“Ah, I see. Drink this.” Severus waited while Harry drank the calming draught and then took the empty vial to the sink and set it down. He turned again to face Harry. “So, you have only had two attacks prior to today, in the last year?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That doesn’t seem like overly much. Did something specific happen to trigger the other two attacks?” Severus had move back to the small worktable where Harry sat and proceeded to bring order to all of the supplies that prior to Harry’s attack had been set out in an orderly fashion.

“Yeah, well the first one I had was because Ron had cut his hand real bad in Herbology, but it was at the end of class, during cleanup, so no one else saw it. Well, except for Ron and Hermione.” Harry seemed to be relaxing somewhat, no longer holding onto his arm for dear life.

“And the second attack, Potter?” Severus was done straightening his supplies and was once again standing in front of Harry with his arms crossed.

“The second happened after I woke up from a nightmare about Cedric dying. Ron helped me out during that one and then I told Hermione about it later.”

“So, am I to understand that Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are the only two who know about these episodes,” Severus asked with exasperation.

“Yeah.”

“Did it never occur to you that going to Madame Pomfrey would be wise? That she would be able to provide you with a potion that you could carry around with you and take at the first signs of an attack? Did it occur to you to confide this to your head of house or the Headmaster?” Severus knew he was raising his voice at the boy, but cared little at the moment.

“Confide? In my head of house or Professor Dumbledore? No, it never occurred to me to do that!”

“Why ever not?”

“I have my reasons,” was Harry’s only response. Harry, although still calm enough, was beginning to get annoyed. What was it to Snape if he had a few problems? He could deal with it.

“Listen,” Harry pleaded, “as much as I hate this, can we just try again. I want to get this over with. Hey, maybe you could give me a sleeping potion or something, then take my blood while I’m asleep. You could do that, right?” Harry was excited by the idea of sleeping through this whole bloody procedure. However, on second thought, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be asleep while his most hated professor had a knife and wanted his blood.

“No, Potter, I can not give you a sleeping draught. There are some components in sleeping draughts that would taint the blood that I need. There were no such components in the calming draught that I just gave you. Perhaps you are calm enough that we could try again.” Severus again reached for the knife and turned to Harry. He held his hand out to Harry waiting for the boy to extend his arm.

With great reluctance, Harry finally held his arm out. Severus quickly grasped his arm, as if the limb would be snatched back any second and swiftly made the cut. It took a few seconds, but eventually blood began to well up and trickle down Harry’s arm. Using the vials, Severus collected what blood he needed and set them safely aside. Grabbing up his wand he cast a healing spell over the small wound and then applied the salve that would take care of any potential scarring.

Only when he was completely done did Severus look up at Harry. He was white as a ghost and shaking slightly, but he seemed in no immediate danger of passing out again.

“Sit there for a few minutes before getting down, then you can go.” Severus took the vials of blood over to a larger worktable and began working away on the first stages of the three week process it would take to complete the potion.

Harry stayed where he was for a few minutes and then gingerly got down from the table. Before Harry could get to the door, Severus spoke up.

“Potter, do you still have a sufficient supply of dreamless sleep potion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Remember, don’t take too much, too often. It is a potion that can…”

“Become addictive, I know. You’ve only told me about a hundred times.”

“Potter, I don’t have time for your insolence. Get out.” Severus turned his attention back to his potion.

Harry slowly made his way out of the potions lab and went to his room. With nothing better to do, he decided that a nap was in order. In a matter of minutes Harry was sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning. Nightmares plagued his sleep often these days. Most times his dreams contained horrible images of Voldemort, the death of Cedric or Sirius; images that his friends and professors would not be shocked to know he was dreaming. However, there were times he dreamed of days in darkness and lonely nights; period of endless time, everyday blending with the next, with no beginning or end.

The worst nightmares that he had from his time with the Dursley’s always came from when he was extremely young. He had early memories of being three and screaming, crying, and calling out for help because his stomach hurt; but no one came. Crying endlessly because he had soiled himself, his skin raw with rash and burning; but no one came. Young Harry did not understand why they didn’t feed him when they fed Dudley. Why didn’t the Dursley’s give Harry gifts for Christmas and his birthday? Of course, Harry was only about four or five when he had finally given up hope for any gifts for any occasion. Harry was about six when he finally understood that no matter what he did the Dursley’s would never love him. Harry was about seven or eight when he finally realized, that in a sick, demented sort of way, his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Cousin Dudley actually seemed to enjoy making his life difficult and miserable.

Sometimes Harry actually tried to remember his very first days, weeks, months with the Dursleys. Had they put him in the cupboard when he was only one or two, just a baby? Surely not, but his earliest memories were of that cupboard. Had he cried out for his parents, not understanding why they didn’t pick him up and sooth him? Did Petunia really hold him and help feed him baby food? Or did she just give him food and hope animal instincts would kick in and he would manage to somehow feed himself?

So, Harry slept on in his room at Grimmauld Place, fitfully kicking blankets this way and that. His nightmares not coming from the world of make believe, but instead a real past that he could not forget. A past so deeply engrained on his soul, leaving divots and graters filled with loneliness, despair and an abiding hatred that no one else knew was there.

Draco spent the morning writing correspondences. He wrote a letter to Blaise and another to Crabbe and Goyle. His two cronies had to share a letter, as Draco hoped together they would be able to read it. He had just started on the letter to his mother when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in.” He knew it would be Professor Snape, since Potter would never come see him for any reason while he was in this particular bedroom. Draco pondered how lucky he was to have randomly chosen the only room in Grimmauld Place that Potter seemed physically unable to walk into. He knew the other boy hated the room because it had belonged to his recently deceased godfather, Draco’s own Cousin, Sirius Black.

The bedroom door slowly opened and Severus stepped in. “Draco, you have left your potion research project unattended for two days now. I would not normally remind anyone to tend to their own assignment, but as I have some concerns about its sudden rapid boiling, I would appreciate it if you would see to it immediately.”

“Yeah, I know. Rapid boiling would be normal at this stage and it has two more hours to do so. I was going to take care of it after lunch.” Draco resumed his letter writing, telling his mother how dreadful the Black house was and how miserable it was living with Potter.

“You will take yourself and your writing to the potions lab. Boiling cauldrons are not to be left unattended. It was fine when it was simmering, but now it needs to be watched.”

“Aren’t you in the lab? You could watch it for me.” Draco looked up, hopeful that he would be allowed to remain where he was.

“I most certainly will not! You may consider yourself lucky that I came to advise you of its delicate state as it is. Now get downstairs!” With that said Severus left the room and made a point of leaving the door wide open, a clear indication that Draco was to follow.

In exasperation Draco gathered his letter writing supplies and followed Severus to the lab. He quickly checked on his potion experiment and found everything to be right on target. He sat down at the worktable nearest his potion and went back to the letter he was writing to his mother.

Dearest Mother,

I hope this missive finds you well. I trust that you have heard from father by now or at least his legal council. I’m still mystified as to how the Ministry could just send him off to Azkaban even after father’s convincing grounds about being under Imperius. The fact that the only person brought to harm was an escaped convict makes it even more ridiculous that anyone face punishment. Since I’m not judge or jury I suppose I have little sway over the outcome of father’s trial. I’m sure if we only stand strong together, as Malfoys are wont to do, then we will have a positive conclusion.

On to other issues, I am still not allowed back to school. The Governors are meeting this evening and I hope that we are called forward to testify in our own defense. ‘We’ being I and Professor Snape. I could care less if Potter gets to say anything to the Governors and am secretly hoping he gets expelled. An expelled Potter is a much happier Draco.

I have questioned Professor Snape and that poor excuse for a Headmaster several times as to why I am not allowed to return home during my temporary expulsion. Professor Snape insists that I need to stay with him so that I can continue my education. Again, I’m sorry that I cannot give you my exact location, I just find myself unable to do so. My location is obviously protected by a Fidelius Charm. Although I do know I’m at the Black house, I cannot for the life of me remember where it is located. As a fun little side-project, I’m looking into ways to destroy that hideous Black women’s portrait. Although I side with her views on blood purity, she is just down-right annoying at times.

I am quite miserable constantly being in Potter’s presence. He mopes around here like he’s lost his puppy. I mean, come on! His family was just killed, but from what I have gathered they were horrible people to begin with. What kind of family treats you like a house-elf? So good riddance, I say! And as for Sirius Black? He was a runaway convict with a shitty house and not much else going for him.

“Draco, are you quite done. How much could you possible have to say to someone you just wrote to yesterday?” Severus walked over and studiously eyed Draco’s potion. “Is it supposed to be this color?”

Draco looked up from his letter and stared at his professor in offensiveness. “Of course it’s supposed to be that color. Like I could make my own potion incorrectly!”

“Don’t be so touchy. Come to the kitchen and have something to eat. You can finish your letter later.” Severus turned to leave when Draco called him back.

“Professor Snape?” Draco said in a small voice.

“Yes?”

“My father, do you think they’ll let him go? I mean, I know what he is, the things he’s done, but surely they won’t keep him in that awful place. Right?” Draco had capped his ink and set his quill down.

“Draco, I will not even attempt to tell you what may or may not happen in regards to your father. As you say, you know what he is. We have talked about his,” Severus said as he walked back to Draco’s worktable and sat next the boy, “and you know how much easier it will be to live the path you have chosen without your father’s influence in your life.”

Draco sat and stared down at the letter to his mother. After a several long seconds, Severus continued.

“I should not be telling you this, as you also know what I am. The Dark Lord would be severally displeased to learn that I am allowing you to even contemplate going against his wishes and refusing to join his ranks. I should be persuading you to join as soon as you are of legal age.” Severus waited, hoping Draco would once again pronounce his solemn wish to do anything other than grovel at the Dark Lord’s feet. It wouldn’t be until Severus was absolutely convinced of Draco’s sincerity and strength that he would be allowed to inform Draco that Severus was actually a spy for the light-side of a coming war.

He knew that the young man before him already knew too much. Draco seemed to have a vast knowledge of the ‘secret’ organization, the Order of the Phoenix, as most Death Eaters did. Secrets are never really secrets, are they? Draco also thought he was positive that Severus was duping Dumbledore, and that his potion’s professor was actually spying on the Headmaster and Potter on behalf of the Dark Lord.

“You know I don’t want that. I mean Malfoys shouldn’t kiss anyone’s robe hem or get their hands bloody doing someone else’s dirty work. I…I just can’t! I know I’m not a nice person and I do enjoy cutting people down to size, but I would much prefer going about it with wealth and esteem, not unforgivables and torture!” Draco had worked himself up to such a state that he could no longer sit on his worktable stool. He stood and began pacing back and forth in front of his professor.

“Draco, your father’s release from Azkaban would mean that you would be under extreme pressure to do as he bids. Your father would want you to take the mark. Your father would want you to follow in his footsteps. He would expect that of you. Do you realize what Lucius would do to you if he knew that you harbored thoughts of refusing the mark?” Severus was now standing as well, eyeing the young man in front of him.

“My father would disown me, disinherit me!”

Severus grabbed the boy's shoulders to halt his pacing. “Do you really think that’s the worst Lucius could do? Disinherit you?”

Draco looked down at his feet, thoughts swirling through his head. “I don’t know…I guess? I mean, he wouldn’t kill me or anything? Would he?”

Severus stared into Draco’s stormy grey eyes. Would this boy’s own father kill him, his only child?

Severus took a deep breath. “I don’t know. He is certainly capable of losing his temper and doing something rash. I doubt that Lucius would kill you, though he could force you to take the mark. There are ways, Draco, to force someone to do something they do not wish to do. Threats, whether that is against you or someone you love, torture, Imperius. The possibilities are endless. Believe me, Draco, if you do not want to find yourself prostrating in front of the Dark Lord, your best course of action is to hope your father stays right where he is.”

“I know you’re right, professor, it’s just hard. He’s a Malfoy. He’s not supposed to be rotting away in Azkaban. You know, this is all Potter’s fault! If he wasn’t such a stupid Gryffindor, my father wouldn’t be in prison!” Draco sat down with a huff.

“I agree that Potter is a stupid Gryffindor, however, he is not responsible for the actions of others, especially your father. Don’t be a simpleton! You need to keep things in perspective. Your father is in Azkaban and right now that works for you and your agenda. Does it not?”

“Yes, it works,” Draco said as he stood and headed for the door. “For now.”

Severus quickly followed Draco and stopped the boy in the hallway just outside the kitchen. “It is quite possible that we may find ourselves permanently outcast from Hogwarts. Let’s put our minds and energy into this more immediate problem first, then we can worry about your father and the pros and cons of his release.”

“Yeah, alright.” Draco walked into the kitchen to find Potter already eating away at some sort of sandwich.

“So, what’s for lunch?” Draco took a seat at the table and placed his napkin on his lap.

After finishing his lunch Harry went to the library and began writing his essay for transfiguration. He quickly realized that he needed to finish the assigned reading before he could start his paper. With a heavy sigh, he took his textbook to the sofa and threw himself down on his stomach and began to read. It was only after a few pages that Harry’s eyes began to droop and he allowed his head to rest for what he hoped would only be a few minutes.

Harry kept scrubbing the floor with the overused sponge, over and over. He plunged his sponge back into the mop bucket and then continued to scrub the floor. The linoleum flooring was covered in red streaks, the water in the bucket even redder. Why was Aunt Petunia having him clean the floor with blood? Whose blood was it? Was it his own?

“Harry. That’s mine. Give it back.”

Harry’s head snapped up and he could see Cedric standing near the backdoor that lead to the Dursley’s garden.

“No, Cedric, I need this. Aunt Petunia said to clean the floor with it. You can have it back when I’m done.” Harry continued his frantic scrubbing.

“Potter! What the hell are you doing?” Cedric was gone and Draco was there. He was leaning against the wall, looking content and worry-free. “I mean, really, you would think you would know how to clean a floor after all the practice you’ve had.”

“It’s blood, Malfoy. How am I supposed to get it clean with blood?” Harry continued to scrub the floor, only looking up periodically to check on his visitor.

“That’s not my problem, Potter. I’m just here to give you a message.” Draco was now standing directly in front of the dark-haired boy. The only part of Draco that Harry could see was the toe of his boots. “Here’s your message, Potter.” Draco swung his foot back and brought it forth with all his strength, sending his booted foot right into Harry’s face. Harry flew back across the blood slicked floor grabbing his face and yelling in pain. Blood began pouring from his nose, eyes and mouth. Draco advanced, the sound of Harry’s teeth crunching beneath his boots.

“Stay away! Stay away from me!” Harry backed himself up against the nearest cabinet and then realized he had blocked himself in. There was no escape. Draco was now upon him again, this time holding one of Aunt Petunia’s large carving knives. Harry screamed and yelled for help, but it did no good. Draco slashed the knife at Harry’s face. Harry was in hysterics until his screams became like those of a wounded animal. The knife kept slashing across his face, again and again and again and again…

“Potter! Potter! Wake up, you nit!” Draco gave Harry’s shoulder a quick jab with his index finger. “Potter!” Draco had walked in on Harry screaming and was not surprised to see that the boy was just having another nightmare. He seemed to have them on a regular basis and Draco was starting to become quite tired of them.

When Harry only continued to scream, Draco decided it was time for something more than a poke in the arm. He drew his wand and cast a water charm. Harry found himself coming suddenly awake after having a bucket of ice water dumped directly on his head. He sat up and frantically looked around. The only person in the room was Draco and Harry immediately went stark white. He knew it had only been a dream and that the Draco standing in front of him might want to kill him, but wouldn’t dare. Well, maybe someday he would attempt to, but not with Snape in the same house.

“Potter, your nose is bleeding. You might want to take care of that before you bleed all over this old, moth eaten carpet. On second thought, bleed away.” Draco went to the opposite wall and began scanning the shelves of books.

Harry reached up and touched his nose. His hand came away covered in blood. Quickly making his way to the kitchen he grabbed a hand towel and put it to his face, leaning his head back to help stop the blood flow.

“Did Draco do that?”

Harry spun around to find Professor Snape sitting at the kitchen table stirring his tea and reading a book.

“Um, yeah. I mean, no! No, Malfoy didn’t do this.”

“Have you lost your mind? Can you not remember how you got a bloody nose?”

“Actually, I don’t know how a got a bloody nose.” Harry pulled the towel away from his face and found it soaked with blood. He refolded the towel and placed a clean side back onto his nose. “I had another nightmare. Malfoy was in it and he gave me the bloody nose.”

Severus lean forward and put his elbows on the table. “In your dream, Draco gave you a bloody nose?”

“Yeah.”

“Then how is it that you have an actual nose bleed now?”

“Well, I don’t know. What I do know is that Malfoy woke me up with a bucket of icy water. The prick. If you were in here this whole time, why didn’t you come wake me up from that nightmare instead of letting Draco dump water on me?”

Ignoring the question, Severus stood and walked to Harry’s side. He took the towel from the boy and examined his nose. The bleeding had stopped and there seemed to be no lasting damage of any sort. Severus sat back down at the table and stared at Harry.

“Potter, have you ever had dreams or nightmares that upon waking seemed to, in reality have caused physical harm?”

“Just my scar hurting when I have nightmares about Voldemort. Actually, my scar only really hurts when I’ve had a vision, not necessarily a nightmare. But you already know all of that.” Harry took the towel to the sink and began rinsing it out.

“What did Draco do to you in your dream?”

“Why do you want to know that?” Harry came back to the table and sat down.

“Humor me,” Severus snarled as he picked up his tea cup and took a small drink.

“Well, I was on my hands and knees scrubbing a floor and he came and stood directly in front of me. He said something about having a message for me and then he swung his foot back and kicked me in the face. Not much to tell.”

“Well, Potter, don’t treat these dreams with the same idiocy that you did your panic attacks. If you have another dream where you awaken with injuries or bleeding you are to report it immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now I have a potion to check on. Find something useful to do with yourself other than sleeping the day away. Why not start by cleaning up the trail of blood you left between here and the library.” Severus swept out of the kitchen and went back to his lab.

Harry stood staring at the drops of blood on the floor. He couldn’t help thinking how just like his dream this seemed. Cleaning blood off the floor had to be easier than in his dream as he would have clean water to do it, but it was still strangely coincidental.

Harry went back to the counter and retrieved the same towel that he had used on his nose and proceeded to clean the floor.

Severus stared down into the cauldron praying to any deities that would listen that he was making this potion correctly. He had never made it before and was therefore giving every direction his utmost attention. He did not want there to be any doubt or second guessing when the results of the potion were reveled. When this potion was done, the results would be final. Severus would either find himself extremely relieved not to be the biological father of Harry Potter or he would find himself in the dilemma of his life. The dilemma, of course, being whether or not to acknowledge the boy as his son or to pretend that this whole potion assignment fiasco had never occurred.

Would he be able to ignore his own flesh and blood? If it meant ignoring Potter, then it probably wouldn’t be that difficult. Severus knew that he was giving the situation too much thought, yet again. He needed to wait and see what answers the potion held before jumping to any conclusions.

Severus then let his mind wander to the Governor’s meeting that was taking place at Hogwarts at this very moment. Albus said that he would contact him if his testimony was needed and Severus sincerely hoped it was. If the Governors were allowed to make a decision with the information they currently had, Severus knew he was a goner and would spend the next several months playing babysitter to two obnoxious teenagers.

Draco was yet another issue of concern for Severus. He truly did like the boy and thought that Draco had the potential to become an outstanding wizard; one that could have influence in the wizarding world and create change. In order for this to happen, Severus knew that it was vital that Draco stay out from under his father’s influence. This was easier to accomplish with Lucius in prison. It would also be manageable if Lucius were to be released from prison, yet Draco was allowed back into Hogwarts. The worst scenario was to see Lucius released from prison and Draco permanently expelled. Lucius would more than likely demand that his son be sent home and taught by tutors. Draco wouldn’t have a fighting chance if that were to happen.

“Professor, the Headmaster is here. He says he needs to see you immediately.”

“Tell him I’ll be right there, Potter.” Severus quickly washed and dried his hands and headed to the kitchen where he found Albus pacing frantically across the room.

“What is it, Albus?”

“Severus there is a bigger plot at play here. Some scheme, out of our control, brought the three of you together the night young Mr. McLaggen was killed and now the plot is to divest the three of you from Hogwarts. They don’t want your testimony. They want you gone.” Albus sat down and began massaging the bridge of his nose.

“You’re correct, Albus. Something does not sound right.” Severus took a seat next to Albus.

“There’s nothing for it, Severus. The Governors want you, Draco and Harry presented before them in the next half-hour. I will go get the boys. You get yourself ready to go.”

“You’ll likely find them in the library or in their rooms.” Severus went to check on the potion to make sure everything was stable. He only hoped he would be back within the hour in order to advance the potion to the next stage. He would hate to have to start over. Severus didn’t really need to get ready for his appearance before the Governors and made his way quickly back to the kitchen where he found Potter standing next to the floo.

“Where’s Draco?”

“He wasn’t ready. He wanted to change his clothes or something conceited like that.”

“Potter, do you always have to be so snide.” Severus now found himself pacing with nervous energy.

“Are you seriously asking me that? If I always have to be snide?” Harry sat down and watched Severus pace.

After a few minutes, Harry asked his professor something he had been wondering all day. “How is the potion going?”

“Exceedingly slow.”

“Well, you knew that, right. You said it would take a few weeks to make.”

“Yes, but it is still an exceedingly slow process for which I want done and over with. The sooner I know I have no permanent ties to the likes of you, the better.”

“Gee, thanks.” Harry made himself sound like he could care less what his professor thought or wanted, but really the comment had stung. He didn’t want to be related to the greasy git either. Yet, Harry couldn’t help thinking how horrible it would be to finally have something he’d always wanted, a mother or father, just to have that person treat him like the Dursleys had treated him. Snape could never be a good teacher or mentor, so what made Harry even entertain the thought that he would be a good father. It was laughable.

A few minutes later, Albus returned with Draco.

“Alright, we’re all here. Draco and Harry, we will be flooing to my office and then going to the boardroom from there. If the two of you want to go ahead and go to my office and wait, Professor Snape and I will join you shortly.”

Draco and Harry each took a pinch of floo powder and disappeared in a shoot of green flames.

“Severus, if I might ask? How is the potion coming along?”

“Fine. It is only the first day of brewing, but so far I have hit no snags in the process. Why do you ask?”

“No reason, my boy, just being a curious old man. You will keep me up to date on its progress?”

“Yes, of course. We should probably go, Albus. It will do no good to have Potter and Draco kill each other before the board gets to do their worst. The Governors won’t like being cheated of their fun.”

With another pinch of floo powder they were both gone.

The two older men arrived in Albus’ office to find Harry and Draco arguing again.

“I’m telling you, Potter, I refuse to live in the same township as you! If we get expelled, I’m going home.”

“Whatever,” Harry said without any real feeling. Harry smirked, knowing his nonchalance was driving Draco to distraction.

Draco was standing with his fists clenched at his sides, truly looking as though he was holding back from hitting Harry. Harry, on the other hand, looked relaxed, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, even though inside he was a bundle of nerves.

“Boys,” Albus kindly intercepted, “now is not the time to argue. We must present a united front.” Albus was much calmer than he had been when he had first flooed to Grimmauld Place to inform Severus of the Governor’s decision.

“A united front!” Draco all but screamed. “They already found us guilty! We’re here to find out our punishment. There’s no need for me to have a united anything with Harry bloody Potter!”

“Draco,” Severus’ dangerously cool voice said. “You will cease your tantrum this instant and watch your language.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Albus walked to his office door and held it open as one by one the three other occupants of the room preceded Albus down the spiral staircase. No one spoke on the short journey to the room where all of the Governor’s meetings were held. Upon reaching the door, Albus turned and stared at the three young men before him. “I know it will be difficult, but please show the Governors the same respect you would show me. Keep your heads and don’t say or do anything to add to the offences already against you.” Albus waited until he had confirmation from all three before he turned back and opened the door.

Severus hadn’t been sure what to expect. He had been to board meetings before, but never any involving the one and only Harry Potter. Just as he expected, the room was packed. Every school Governor was present, unusual at regular, ordinary meetings. There were a few reporters standing with their quills at the ready, devoted photographers standing by waiting to get the perfect picture. Severus noticed that McLaggen’s family was also in attendance and they were staring with hatred and vengeance.

Severus knew that their fates had been sealed way before this meeting took place. Too many people crammed the boardroom and it was simple to surmise that those in attendance knew something that the three defendants did not. They had been doomed all along.

The Head Governor banged his gavel on the boardroom table and everyone in the room fell silent. Severus, Harry, Draco and Albus all stood in the front of the room facing the audience. Severus laughed inside, knowing that this audience was going to get the show they were anticipating.

“If I may have everyone’s attention,” the Head Governor began to speak, “we will finish matters so that we may all get on to other things. Believe me this won’t take long. Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have been found guilty in the eyes of the school Governors. We are aware that the Ministry Aurors have found all three of you guilty of nothing criminal. However, the Governors agree that there is enough suspicion surrounding the night young Mr. Cormac McLaggen was found dead that the student body of Hogwarts is uneasy. The three of you were found next to the dying body with poison in your hands and wands drawn.”

There was a small rumbling of anger going through the crowd and the governor had to bang his gavel again. It was hard for Severus to not speak up for himself and to explain what he had been doing to McLaggen, but he knew it was pointless. The Head Governor continued to speak.

“Not only are we dealing with the suspicious death of an innocent student of this school, we are also dealing with a few individuals who are not the most upstanding wizards to begin with.”

Upon hearing this, Severus swore he heard Draco intake a sharp breath. It was fine to accuse the boy of murder, but Severus knew it was a personal affront to claim that the boy was not upstanding. It was an oxymoron if there ever was one. As for Severus, he cared very little what the school Governors thought of him and knew it was futile to argue his case. He was not about to stand up here and grovel and beg to be found worthy of acceptance. Severus had done that many years ago in the presence of Albus Dumbledore and he hoped to never repeat the experience again.

“Severus Snape, you are a known Death Eater. We have heard evidence of you repenting, but this board does not buy it. You are known to hate Harry Potter and are quite vindictive towards him and other students, even in the classroom setting. We have several witnesses on those counts. This school is a place of support and encouragement for all students. Based on the events of your past and the current mystery surrounding the death of Cormac McLaggen, this board is terminating your position at Hogwarts effective immediately. You have one hour to collect your personal belongings and vacate the property of this school.”

Harry stood stoically in front of the Governors not believing what he had just heard. Snape was fired? He knew there had been hundreds of times in his years at Hogwarts where this kind of news would have brought great joy. In fact, some of those times had occurred rather recently. Yet, Harry was smart enough to realize that this probably did not bode well for himself or Draco.

The noise volume in the room had gone up again and the Head Governor once again picked up his gavel. The room immediately quieted down, everyone waiting with baited breathe for the man to go on with the next punishment.

“Draco Malfoy, not only do we feel that you have played a role in the death of Cormac McLaggen, your own father is a confirmed Death Eater currently serving a sentence in Azkaban. One is probably not wrong in assuming that you will more than likely follow in his footstep, therefore we do not want your influence in this school. It is the opinion of the Governors that you be expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You have one hour to collect your personal belongings and vacate the property of this school. Your mother has been contacted and informed of our decision and she should be here shortly to escort you home.”

There was a smattering of applause throughout the room, making it very clear that some people did not like the idea of a Malfoy attending Hogwarts. Harry again thought how thrilled he would have been a few weeks ago if Snape and Malfoy were both forced to leave Hogwarts. Now, though, it was clear what his punishment would be. He would soon find himself languishing away at Grimmauld Place similar to the way Sirius had. Harry also had a strong feeling that he would be sharing his living arrangements with a recently fired potions professor.

The gavel was banging away again and the room fell silent. The Head Governor paused, seeming to collect his thought and then began to speak. “Harry Potter, this board feels that your behavior earlier this year at the Ministry, endangering the lives of your fellow students, your mysterious involvement in Cormac McLaggen’s death, and your current lacking of legal guardianship leaves us with no choice but to also expel you from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

There was instant talking and yelling around the room. Apparently several people in attendance did not agree that the Boy Who Lived should be expelled from school.

“Quiet, quiet everyone! Anyone who cannot contain themselves will be escorted out of the room.” The occupants of the room slowing began to quiet down, although there was still soft whispering here and there. “There is more to say on Mr. Potter’s situation. If everyone would be so kind as to allow me to say it, we can be done with this entire affair.”

Severus was somewhat surprised to see Minister Scrimgeour step forward. He hadn’t seen the man earlier, but should have known that the annoying man wouldn’t miss this meeting to save his life.

“Now, Minister Scrimgeour would like to say a few words,” the Head Governor stated, “pertaining to Mr. Potter’s punishment.”

“Oh now, Governor, I wouldn’t say it’s a punishment. The Ministry of Magic only has Mr. Potter’s best interest at heart. Now, Headmaster Dumbledore,” Scrimgeour turned to face Harry with a superior look on his face, “while it is true that Harry has not had a legal guardian since the death of his relatives, the Ministry was willing to overlook this as long as Harry was a student in good standing at Hogwarts. We were confident that under the watchful eye of a respectable Headmaster there would be no problems. The Ministry cannot ignore the current situation that has arisen due to Mr. Potter’s expulsion. Therefore, I am forced to make a very difficult decision.”

Scrimgeour paused for what appeared to be dramatic effect. The room was eerily silent and Harry could hear his own heart beat pounding away in his ears. What was the Minister up to? This couldn’t be good.

“Harry, I am happy to inform you that you are now a ward of the Ministry. This normally wouldn’t mean a great deal if you were still a student at Hogwarts. You would be allowed to remain at school with little disruption to your day to day routine. However, you are not a student of this school any longer. I simply cannot allow you to return to wherever it is you have been staying since you initially left the school after Mr. McLaggen’s death. You will come with me Harry. Immediately.”

The room erupted. Harry Potter expelled? Harry Potter with no where to live? Harry Potter under the direct control of the Ministry? The room was thrown into chaos. Harry automatically backed up a few steps, subconsciously putting more distance between the Minister and himself. Harry had not realized that he had been standing slightly in front of Snape and therefore bumped into him. Quickly turning towards his professor, he made eye contact with the older man. He knew he must look like a skitterish puppy and quickly stepped away from Snape. It was through this hazy fog that Headmaster Dumbledore’s voice came through.

“Minister Scrimgeour, surely this is not necessary. I can provide a safe place for the boy and assure that he continues with his studies.” Albus had moved to the front of the platform the four of them had been standing on and appeared to be calm and collected.

“I am sorry Albus,” Scrimgeour stated, “but it is clear the boy needs more watching then he is getting presently. He gets himself into more trouble than a Cornish Pixie. I simply must insist that he come with me. I have the law on my side where this issue is concerned.”

“What of his education, Rufus?” Albus’ voice had a tinge of desperation to it that Harry had never heard before.

“What of it, Albus? You think you can provide a better education outside of Hogwarts than the Ministry of Magic? I assure you, the boy will receive an education. I will not stand here in front of reporters and photographers discussing this, Albus. Prepare the boy to leave immediately! I will wait in the main hall.” With that said, Rufus Scrimgeour turned and left the boardroom.

Albus quickly went to Professor McGonagall's side and the two of them huddled together in quiet discussion.

Severus couldn’t believe what had just happened. This went beyond anything that they thought would have occurred. Being permanently expelled from school? Yes. Being confined to Grimmauld Place indefinitely? Yes. Being confined at Grimmauld Place indefinitely with nasty, hated potions professor? Of course. Being hauled off to the Ministry under the watchful eye of Rufus Scrimgeour and out from under the protection of Albus and the security wards at Grimmauld Place? No…it never even occurred to them! They were stupid! They never should have brought Potter to this meeting.

Severus knew he needed to quit thinking about the outcome of the hearing and start putting into place some precautions.

“Potter!” Severus turned to find the boy still looking dazed. “Potter! Snap out of it!” Severus walked to the boy and grabbed his shoulder and although this made the boy jump out of his skin, it did refocus his attention onto Severus.

“Do you have your wand?”

“Yes, of course I do.” Harry went to pull it out, but Severus stopped him.

“Do not produce your wand unless absolutely necessary. Do you hear me? The Minister will assume that you have it, but is more likely to allow you to keep it if you don’t go brandishing it about for any reason at all. Keep it hidden. If they go to confiscate it, lie and say you don’t have it.” Severus was speaking quickly, knowing his time was short. He only hoped Potter was taking everything in.

“But if they search me, they’ll find it.”

“Yes, Potter. If they search you, they will find it. That’s if they decide to search the Boy Who Lived or do an accio on your wand. Some flakes at the Ministry are likely just to take your word for it. If they find out you are lying, so what?”

“Oh.” Harry sounded hallow and Severus could only imagine how the boy must feel. What was awaiting him at the Ministry? What brainwashing and manipulation would they try on the boy?

“Here, take these.” Severus handed Harry five small vials. “Two of these are the dreamless sleep potion you’ve already been taking. It’s all I have on me at the moment. Of the other three, one is a potion for pain, the other is a blood replenisher. Use those two only if absolutely necessary. The last vial is a calming draught. Do not take it unless you suspect that you’re having another anxiety attack. Perhaps only take a sip, just enough to take the edge off. Do you understand, Potter?” Severus looked at the boy standing there holding the vials. “For Merlin’s sake, Potter, put them in your pocket before anyone sees them.”

Harry quickly did as he was told and took the time to also check and make sure his wand was completely hidden from sight. “Why do you think I need a potion for pain and a blood replenisher?” Harry asked with a small voice that Severus could hardly hear.

“Potter, the Minister may put on an innocent front before all of us, but he can be ruthless. I’m sure there will be Order members there to watch out for you, however there are others at the Ministry that cannot be trusted.” Severus noticed that his words did not soothe the boy at all. “Listen, Potter. You probably won’t need the potions, but it doesn’t hurt to have them. Just keep them hidden.” Severus didn’t know what else to say to Harry and hoped that his cautionary measures would be enough to calm the boy for what lay ahead.

The Headmaster was headed their way with Professor McGonagall following closely behind. Harry only had time to give Professor Snape a quick and quiet “thank you” before Dumbledore was leading him away with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, if I could just have a few quick words with you.” Albus had taken him to the back of the room where Harry could see that Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were blocking them from the other eyes in the room.

“Harry, my boy, I am so sorry this is happening. I assure you that every second you’re gone is time I’m spending trying to get you back. I will call a hearing with the Wizengamot if I must. I will also inform Order members at the Ministry to keep a close eye on you.”

“Where are they going to take me, Headmaster?”

“I’m not sure, Harry. I assume somewhere at the Ministry. There are a few living quarters there and perhaps you will be staying in one of them.” Albus kneeled down so that he had to look up slightly at Harry. “Listen to me very closely, Harry. Trust your instincts. Do as you’re told and do not try to run away, but trust your instincts. They may try to talk you around to their way of thinking or try to pry information out of you. Let them try, Harry. I don’t think they would attempt to give you Veritaserum, but one never knows. You can’t give away the location of Headquarters or its secrets, so don’t be afraid on that count. Use your good judgment. I will attempt to legally get guardianship, but my efforts will be hindered if you attempt any misbehavior or appear to be uncooperative. Can you do this, Harry?”

“Yes. I’ll just stay quiet and not draw attention to myself. But I have a bad feeling about all of this. It all seems so planned out or setup or whatever you want to call it.” Harry wrapped his hands around the vials hidden in his pocket, hanging onto them as if they were a lifeline.

“I know what you mean, Harry, but there is little we can do about it now. I want you to take this.” Albus pulled out a chain that had a smooth, purple rock hanging from it. He placed the necklace over Harry’s head. “This is a Portkey, Harry. It will take you somewhere safe if you need to use it. The password is remeo, which basically translates to mean return home. Remeo, Harry. Say it for me.”

“Remeo,” Harry responded quietly, now holding the small stone in the palm of his hand.

“Understand, Harry, that it is to be used in only the most extreme case. We want everything to appear to be on the up and up if we want the Wizengamot to even contemplate taking custody away from the Ministry. A disappearing Harry Potter will not help our case.”

“Okay, so take what they dish out unless I absolutely can’t take it. I guess, basically, if my life is in danger?”

“Yes, Harry. Again, I am so sorry this has happened. I will, of course, come to the Ministry as soon as I’m able to make sure that you are doing well. I will also bring some of your school things and some clothes with me.” Albus looked only slightly worried, as if he was trying to appear like everything would work out in order to make Harry feel better.

“But what if the Ministry won’t let you have custody? I can’t stay there!” Harry was starting to find breathing rather difficult. He didn’t want to have an anxiety attack in front of everyone still present in the boardroom. He didn’t want the Minister to find out that he had a medical condition that he had hidden from the Headmaster since that would not help their cause.

“If they tell me no, Harry, then I will take you from them. Have no doubt about that. There are places you can hide, as you know. Don’t worry. Just play along at this point and you will hear from me again real soon.” Albus gave Harry’s shoulder a supportive squeeze just as the Minister was approaching.

“Well, Harry, are you set to go? We have a long evening in front of us. I will get you all settled in and then tomorrow we will discuss what needs to happen to make sure you get a good education and stay on the straight and narrow path.” The Minister put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and started to guide him towards the door. Harry was surprised to see the Minister as he thought the older man was going to wait in the main hall for him. Harry had the funny feeling that Minister Scrimgeour had second thoughts about leaving him alone with the Headmaster for too long. Before they could get very far a voice called out to Harry.

“Hey, Potter.” Harry turned to see Draco walking his way. Great, just what he needed, Malfoy to mouth off about how happy he was to be rid of the annoying Gryffindor. Harry considered punching him in the face; surely he could now that he didn’t have to live with him anymore. Harry sighed. He couldn’t go punching anybody since he was being forced to be on his best behavior in the presence of the Minister.

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

Draco didn’t say anything, just held his hand out to Harry. Harry stood and stared at Draco’s extended hand. Malfoy wanted a handshake? Harry was baffled and didn’t quite know what to make of the situation. Wanting to keep up appearances of being a nice little boy, he reached out and grasped Draco’s hand. In the process of shaking the other boy’s hand, Harry felt a piece of folded parchment pressed into his palm. Draco slowly pulled his hand away when he was sure that Harry realized what was happening. Harry quickly placed the parchment in his pocket and proceeded to follow the Minister out of the room.

Albus approached Severus with an eerily calm façade. “Severus, I believe that potion you are working on may be our only hope.”

Severus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Yes, Albus, I believe you are right. If you’ll excuse me, I have approximately fifty minutes left to collect my things and leave. I also need to have a few words with Draco before Narcissa gets here.”

“Of course, Severus. I will call an Order meeting for tonight as soon as I’m back in my office.” With that said, Albus left the room.

Severus stood for a minute pondering what to say to Draco. The boy would be safe enough at home, as long as Lucius was in Azkaban and surely the Dark Lord would not want the boy until he was of age. He would, however, need to encourage the boy to continue his studies instead of lazing about Malfoy Manor.

Suddenly, Severus’ thoughts turned to Potter. Harry had clearly been in a state of shock, truly not comprehending everything that had happened in the last several minutes. A mere twenty minutes ago Potter arrived at this meeting assuming that he would be permanently expelled from school and living back at Grimmauld Place. Now the boy was gone. The Ministry had Harry Potter in their clutches. There were people at the Ministry that Severus knew were masters at manipulation and brainwashing and he hoped that Harry could withstand anything that was thrown his way. With a heavy sigh, Severus went in search of Draco, while his mind stayed on the other boy who was no longer amongst them.

Harry followed the Minister outside to the gates of Hogwarts, clutching the small bit of parchment Malfoy had given him in a shaky, sweaty palm. He had no idea what Malfoy would possibly find so important to pass on to him in such an inopportune time. Being in the close company of the Minister would not warrant Harry many opportunities to sneak a look at Malfoy’s words.

“Well, Harry, here we are,” the Minister said as he turned expectantly to Harry. “Since you do not yet have a license to Apparate, nor do you know where precisely we are going, I must insist that you allow me to aid you.” The Minister held out his arm and Harry grew uncomfortable knowing what he must do. Stepping closer to the older man, Harry reached out and grabbed the proffered arm. Feeling that more secure contact was necessary, Scrimgeour grasped Harry’s hand with his and then they both disappeared with a loud pop.

When the world came back into focus, Harry found himself standing in a comfortable, ordinary looking office. A desk, chairs, paintings hanging on the wall, paper weights and other oddities that all seemed perfectly normal. Normal, except for the fact that the office belonged to his new guardian, and in that, nothing was normal.

The Minister walked around to one of the drawers in his desk and started searching for something.

“Harry, go ahead and have a seat. There is one small matter that needs my attention and then I will be right back to show you to your quarters.” With that, the Minister left the office. Harry could distinctly hear the sound of the door being locked. Instead of wasting time looking around at the various items in the room, Harry quickly took a seat and fished from his pocket the small note Malfoy had given him. He wanted to read it quickly and have it put away or destroyed before the Minister came back.

Be cautious of Wainwright, Howard, Langley, Smythe, Vassell.
They answer to You-Know-Who. Only ones I personally know about. Probably others. Oh, McNair and Swenson/Swanson?

D.

Harry read the note again, memorizing the names that Malfoy had given him. Obviously, the list was people who work at the ministry that Malfoy thought Harry should know about. Harry thought that was kind of decent of Malfoy, unless of course the git was giving him all of the wrong names to throw him off guard.

Harry didn’t want to perform magic in the Minister’s office, thinking perhaps there would be detection spells or some other way to tell he had done magic. Instead, Harry folded the note as small as he could and stuffed it into his shoe. Surely, if he was searched they would not make him take off his shoes. One could always hope.

At this point, Harry had little to do but to look around Scrimgeour’s office. He did all his looking from his chair, not wanting to get caught looking like he was snooping around. Harry’s eyes were more drawn to the paintings on the wall then other objects in the room and wondered for a minute if the portraits of some of the past Minister’s would let him in on what Scrimgeour was really like. Having only pondered what questions to ask for a few minutes, the door to the office suddenly opened.

“Alright, Harry, let’s be on our way. We’ve many things to go over and it is already late.” The Minister stood in the doorway motioning for Harry to precede him into the hall.

Harry hoped that he would not be walking around too much of the Ministry building. He really didn’t want to be recognized and it would surely bring up many questions if people saw him just waltzing around with the Minister. He especially didn’t want to be spotted by any of the people on Malfoy’s list.

Luckily, the Minister led him to the nearest lift and they started their descent. When the lift finally came to a rest, Harry had the spooky suspicion that they were on the very lowest level. When the doors finally opened, Harry was somewhat relieved to be greeted by very bright light. He had assumed that going this far down, it would have been more dungeon like. Snape would hate it down here, Harry thought.

“Where are we?” Harry asked as he rushed to keep up with the Minister.

“Well, Harry, we are on the lowest floor of the Ministry. This is where we keep…um, well, where we let people stay while visiting the Ministry. Let me see, we have a few international dignitaries staying for a few days while they conduct business here at the Ministry. There are also a few Aurors and other staff that work overnight shifts that come here to get a few hours of sleep now and again. I think you’ll be perfectly comfortable here. No worries, Harry.” Scrimgeour said all of this with an air of nonchalance.

Harry thought that all sounded strange. Why would Ministry employee’s need to sleep when they were supposed to be working the night shift? Wasn’t the whole point of working at night was to be working? Also, wouldn’t international dignitaries stay at a nice hotel or just Portkey or floo home at the end of the day?

Harry began to notice that the further they walked the less bright the hallway were. It was beginning to dim and unless Harry’s eyes were playing tricks on him, he could almost swear that further down the hallway it was completely dark.

After many twists and turns, Harry could no longer tell which way they had come from. Eventually, the Minister stopped in front of a large wooden door. There was one small window in the door, large enough to just look in or out. Scrimgeour removed some keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. With a little effort the Minister swung the heavy door open and motioned for Harry to go in.

“Home sweet home, Harry. For now, anyway. We’ll try to find you more suitable accommodations as quickly as possible.” Again, Harry thought something was up. Why would they need to find him a more suitable place to stay? It was good enough for international dignitaries, right?

Harry remembered what the Headmaster had said about just going along with everything and not causing trouble. He had a Portkey and he could use it if his life was in danger. So for now, Harry would go along with what the Minister wanted. With those thoughts in mind, Harry reluctantly stepped inside the room.

“Now, Harry, there will be a few of my men coming along shortly to make sure you are settled in well enough. They will also bring you something to eat if you are hungry. It is getting late and I have things to see to, so I will be by tomorrow and we can work out the particulars involving your education. Until then, good night.” The Minister did not wait to see if Harry had anything to say. Scrimgeour stepped back into the hallway and closed the door.

Harry stood in the middle of the small room and let out a heavy sigh as he heard the door being locked. He quickly assessed the room, finding only a small bed with a dirty thin mattress and no blanket or pillow. There was a large pot in the corner and Harry could only imagine what that was for seeing as how there was no bathroom in the small room.

It was pretty clear that his accommodations were not meant to be comfortable. Harry could not believe that Scrimgeour had appeared to be so collected and cool and had said things like ‘home sweet home’ only to leave Harry in a room unfit for even a dog. Of course, this thought led Harry to think about Sirius and how he probably lived like this or worse while in Azkaban. He quickly decided that he would not allow thoughts of Sirius to invade his mind; not while being held prisoner. Thoughts of Sirius would only serve to further his current state of anxiety and depression.

Harry was tired and at the same time too scared to sit on the dirty mattress. Even though the Dursley’s had treated him horribly and locked him in a small room and his mattress had been thin, it had at least been clean. There was no way that Aunt Petunia would have ever let something as filthy as the mattress in his current room to be present anywhere in her house.

Thinking the dirty floor a better prospect than the dirty, mystery stained mattress, Harry sat down and leaned back against the wall. It was clear, at this point, that Harry was being held prisoner. However, he would do as Dumbledore requested and stay put unless his life was in danger. He would wait it out and see exactly what Scrimgeour was up to and try his best to avoid the faces that went with the names on the list Malfoy had given him. The only problem with that plan was that he had no idea what the people on the list looked like. He would need to keep his ears just as open as his eyes; try to remember names when he heard them.

Fatigue finally taking over, Harry dozed off trying his best to not fall over onto the floor. It seemed only a few minutes later, although Harry had no doubt that it could have been longer, that the door was slammed open and two men came in.

They wasted no time in grabbing Harry and quickly pinning his arms behind his back. The taller of the two men stood behind Harry and held his arms tight. Harry could tell that the man was very strong, as he could not budge an inch to save his life. The other man was smaller but still intimidating all the same. He quickly yanked off Harry’s Portkey necklace and began to search his pockets. His wand and the potion vials Snape had given him were also quickly confiscated. Then the smaller man squatted down and started to take off Harry’s shoes.

“What are you doing? You can’t take my shoes!” Harry started kicking his feet trying to keep them out of the smaller man’s grasp.

“Johnson! Can’t you hold him still! Geez! I thought you were supposed to be the strong arms of this operation!”

“Hey, I’m doing my job. All you have to do is strip the kid. It’s not my problem if you can’t take off his shoes.” Harry quickly noticed that although Johnson claimed to be doing his job just fine, the hold on his arms became more painful and he was being stretched back so far that he could hardly look down at the smaller man on the floor. Harry kept kicking in a vain attempt to keep his shoes and everything else. These two goons had already taken his wand, potions and Portkey. He couldn’t let them have all his clothes, as well. He couldn’t let that happen, although he didn’t see much hope in being able to stop them.

“OW!” The smaller man grabbed his bleeding nose. “You kicked me in the face, you little bastard!” The man stood back up and was face to face with Harry. “You know, sometimes I enjoy doing things the easy way. I could just take my wand and say a little Evanesco and you would be just as naked as the day you were born. However, sometimes I get more joy from the fight and now we are going to fight. You will not win, little boy.” With that the man brought his fist forward and connected with Harry’s nose. There was a sickening crack and Harry let out a howl of pain. Blood immediately began gushing from his nose.

“Why are you guys….what’s going on? I want to see the Minister! Now!” Harry tried to resume kicking his feet but gave up when he realized that his shoes and socks had already been taken off. The smaller man didn’t mention finding a note, so it must have still been tucked safely away in the toe of his shoe.

“The Minister sent us, boy. Told us to strip you, check for magical objects, wands, Portkeys and such and then we were to feed ya. Now, no more questions!”

“You can’t do this! I haven’t done anything wrong!” Harry tried to struggle but was too distracted by the blood that was running from his nose down to his mouth. Harry thought fleetingly that he could really use that pain potion or the blood replenisher; and to think, Snape said he probably wouldn’t need the potions.

“We don’t know what’s what boy. We’re just doing what we’re told,” Johnson said from behind Harry. “You just hold still, let us do what we need to do and no one will get hurt. Well, no more hurt than you already are. Peterson, you think you can speed this up a little?”

The smaller man, Peterson, started to unbutton Harry jeans.

“Is that really necessary? I mean, you already took everything I had on me. Can’t you leave me my dignity?” Harry started to struggle again. He wasn’t going to let these men strip him naked without a struggle.

“Dignity? Ha! Did you hear that, Johnson? The kid thinks I should leave him his dignity. Listen, kid, by the time the Minister is done with you, you won’t be worried about dignity. Now, shut up. I won’t tell you again to stop asking questions!” Harry’s jeans were abruptly pulled off his legs, quickly followed by his boxers.

Harry knew that he was blushing and his face felt hot. He was completely naked from the waist down and could not remember a time that he was so embarrassed. Finally, Johnson had to let go of his arms so that the other man could remove Harry’s shirt. Harry gave a vain attempt at escape, but knew that it was pointless. The shirt was quickly removed and all of his clothes were stuffed into a bag that Peterson had pulled from his back pocket.

Peterson then proceeded to put Harry’s wand, Portkey and the potion vials in the bag. With all of Harry’s possession sacked away, Peterson left the room. Johnson stayed and walked a circle around Harry, waving his wand and murmuring incantations.

“Do you have anything else in your possession?”

“What? Are you serious? Does it look like I have anything left?” Harry held his arms out wide to clearly show that all that was left was his naked self.

“Yes, well, I had to ask. Here, put this on. That’s all the Minister gave me to give to you.” Johnson threw him what looked like a long sleeping gown, something similar to what Madam Pomfrey gave her patients to wear.

Harry quickly put the garment on, thankful to have anything to cover himself with. Once he was dressed he noticed that Johnson was getting ready to leave.

“Hey! Wait! You guys can’t do this. Tell the Minister to come back. I need to talk to him.”

“Sorry, kid. No can do. My shifts over and I’m going home. As I understand it, the Minister will be around tomorrow to explain some things to you. Get some sleep, kid.” Johnson almost had the door shut when Harry made a grab for it. Johnson quickly pushed him back into the room and quickly slammed the door shut and locked it.

Harry quickly ran to the door and started pounding on it. “You were supposed to leave food! Johnson!” Harry kept hitting on the door, but it did little good banging on a solid wooden door. Harry’s plea for food had little effect on the man, as well. Not that he would have been able to eat anyway.

Harry was now even more reluctant to sit on the mattress. He no longer has his own clothes to act as a barrier between himself and the disgusting bed. He doubted that the thin nightgown he wore would offer much protection from whatever was growing or festering in the damp cotton mattress.

Holding his gown down tight, he adjusted himself on the floor. He knew he needed to get some sleep if he wanted to stand a chance of facing Scrimgeour in the morning. With an aching nose that he knew was probably broken, Harry leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. His last thought before sleep took him was that he was totally fucked. It was this same thought that came to mind every single time he awoke during the night.

After a horrible night of sleep Harry finally decided to wake up enough to take stock of his current situation. The hardest thing for him to comprehend is what Scrimgeour was going to gain by treating him as a prisoner. It was rather frightening to realize that at this point there was probably little anyone could do to get him out of this situation. Harry knew that the Minister wanted his cooperation and perhaps his dislike of the Ministry was well known and Scrimgeour figured that he would just have to imprison Harry to get that cooperation. Well, Harry knew that he distrusted the Ministry and apparently Scrimgeour knew this about Harry.

But what if Harry suddenly went along with everything the Minister said? How hard could it be to do a few interviews and take advantage of a few photo opportunities to make the rest of the Wizarding world think Harry and the Ministry were working together? Harry knew they should be working together, but with Fudge previously holding the Ministry’s highest position cooperation had been impossible. Now with Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister, perhaps Harry could convince everyone that he now supported the Minister’s view on the upcoming war and Voldemort’s return. Put on a good show for the public, so to speak.

Harry decided that when Scrimgeour came to see him this morning he would make it clear that they were on the same side. Perhaps he would get moved to better living quarters and actually get some food. Thinking of food made Harry’s stomach suddenly growl. What he wouldn’t give for a nice hot breakfast. He could have even tolerated Snape and Malfoy’s company at the moment as long as that company came with food.

Harry’s thoughts then drifted towards Snape. Was Snape still working on the potion to determine whether they were related and how? Harry knew that Snape could be the vindictive type and perhaps he stopped working on it the minute Harry was hauled away as a ward of the Ministry. Why bother at this point? Snape had to know that if no living relative of Harry Potter’s existed then chances of the Ministry letting him go were slim to none. Why would Snape mess that up? Here was his chance to finally be rid of the attention seeking, rule breaking son of James Potter.

Dumbledore. Harry knew that Snape would finish the potion for Dumbledore. If that potion could prove that Snape and Harry were related, then the Ministry wouldn’t be able to keep him. Dumbledore trusted Snape and Snape was a member of the Order. Snape will complete the potion for the greater good, Harry just knew it.

Merlin! Harry couldn’t even begin to imagine what his reaction would be if that potion came back showing irrefutable proof that Snape was his father. Would he be sad to discover that James Potter was not his real father? Would he be angry at his mother for doing something with Snape that resulted in making a child? Harry shuddered at this thought. Would he be deeply disappointed and at the same time extremely frustrated that he would finally have something he had always wanted, a parent, just to live with the knowledge that the parent in question hated his guts?

Harry gave a huge sigh and thought again about how hungry he was. He suddenly wished he knew the time. Had the sun risen yet? Was it almost noon? There were no exterior windows in his little cell and it was quite disconcerting to not have a grasp on the time of day. Scrimgeour was supposed to be by this morning to talk, so perhaps it was still early morning, Harry thought.

Harry leaned his head back on the wall and closed his eyes. He let his thoughts drift to the memory of Professor Dumbledore telling Harry that he would be by today. Dumbledore was supposed to bring more clothes and some of Harry’s other things. Would Dumbledore be able to give Harry clothes, when Scrimegeour just had his other clothes taken away? Doubtful. Harry let out another big sigh. It was doubtful, Harry suddenly realized, that he would be allowed to see Dumbledore at all. That would make Dumbledore extremely suspicious, but would there really be anything he could do about it.

Harry decided that the best thing to do would be to wait for his talk with the Minister. Perhaps this was all just a big misunderstanding and everything could be worked out. Harry felt himself nodding off and decided that a nap might take his mind off his hungry stomach and his still aching nose.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Mother?” Draco walked into the Malfoy library to find his mother sitting at her small writing desk. She was bent over a large piece of parchment and her quill was writing furiously.

“Draco.” Narcissa Malfoy did not look up from her writing when she beckoned with a free hand for Draco to take a seat. Draco sat and waited patiently for his mother to finish. After a few minutes she finally set her quill down and looked at her son.

“I have something for you, Draco.” She pulled open a draw and withdrew a rolled up parchment. “It is a missive from your father. When I went to visit him a few days ago he was granted permission to write you a short note. It is password protected and your father said you would know how to open it. I thought that I would have to wait until Christmas break to give it to you, but it would seem that your expulsion from school has afforded me the opportunity to give it to you much sooner than that. Read it, and then destroy it. I will be in my bedroom if you should need me.” Narcissa handed the scroll to Draco and then left the room with her own parchment clutched in her hand.

Well, this was interesting, Draco thought. His father was already trying to sway his son, trying to gain control and power even from the depths of Azkaban. Draco said the magical words that would allow him to read the letter. Taking a big sigh, he sank back into the chair and began to read. It was short, stating quite plainly, in Draco’s opinion, about how the Malfoy heir was to live up to his father’s expectations (join Voldemort’s Death Eaters), and not to tarnish the family’s standing in the community (hide the fact that you are loyal to Voldemort and continue being the superior, pureblooded Wizard that you are; beyond reproach). Well, Draco thought, my little stint as an accused child killer has kind of ruined the whole upstanding citizen routine. Well, not necessarily “accused” or a “child,” but McLaggen was young and Draco was still being held suspect in the eyes of the school governors.

The end of the letter only stated that his father would give him what information he needed if the time came for further action. Draco knew this meant that his father would expect him to help in the planning of his escape if the trial results did not go their way.

Draco stood and walked to the huge fireplace, its mantle covered in expensive crystal pieces, little statuettes his mother enjoyed collecting. He threw his letter in and cast a quick incendio. His father’s missive, full of the expectations for a son who secretly wanted nothing to do with his family’s “traditions” went up in flames.

Draco turned from the fireplace and contemplated the room he was standing in. This room, more than any others, signified what he should be and have. Expensive everything; furniture, rare books, gilded framed mirrors, paintings, marble. One day it would all be his. The entire mansion would be his. The entire Malfoy fortune would be his. Of course, what fortune was left after Lucius was done living his life was hard to say. His father was currently in some of the worst legal trouble of his life and would pay anything to secure his own freedom.

With a huge sigh Draco began the long walk back to his room. When he got there he did something that was surprisingly rare to see an aristocratic young man do. Draco flopped onto his bed, shoes still on and stared at the ceiling. His mind drifted to the memory of the day before, still standing in front of the Board of Governors.

“Draco, listen to me very carefully,” Severus appeared hurried, and Draco knew that he was about to get an earful. However, there was one thing that he needed to do first.

“Just a second, Professor,” Draco said quietly before turning Potter’s way. Calling out to the dazed boy who was being led away by the Minister, Draco rushed to catch up.

“Hey, Potter,” Draco held out his hand hoping that Potter wouldn’t choose now to be overly stubborn. While Potter had been tied up with Snape and then Dumbledore directly after hearing the Ministers surprising announcement, Draco had taken the opportunity to take a piece of scrap parchment from a nearby desk. Quickly asking to borrow a quill from an obnoxious reporter, Draco scanned his memories trying to remember everyone he ever heard his father mention with favor from the Ministry. If Lucius Malfoy liked you that was a clear indication of what side you were on.

Draco had released a small, anxious breath when Potter had accepted the handshake. Potter’s eyes had widen enough for Draco to know that Potter felt the small, folder piece of parchment and would understand that it needed to be kept secret.

Once Potter turned to walk away, Draco again gave his attention to Professor Snape.

“What did you just do, Draco?” Snape did not sound pleased, and Draco knew that he was taking a huge risk by helping Potter. He hadn’t had time to disguise his handwriting or place any charms on the parchment that would prevent someone from revealing the author. He just had to hope that Potter destroyed it when he was done reading it.

“Why, whatever do you mean, Severus?” Draco tried to sound as innocent as possible, but it only came out as smug and condescending.

“One day your folly will be your downfall, Draco.” Severus grabbed Draco’s sleeve and pulled him to the back of the room. His professor leaned down and Draco was shocked to see one of the most serious looks Severus had ever given him.

“Draco, listen to me very carefully. You must go home with your mother. Do try to keep a low profile, stay quiet and don’t speak overly much about your desires to deflect from your father’s path. Your mother cannot and will not keep your secrets from those who wish to know them. If the Dark Lord demands to speak with you or your father somehow manages, even against the odds, to find himself no longer imprisoned, then you must play to your instincts. To completely defy your father or the Dark Lord could mean much worst then baring the mark. Do you understand?”

Draco let his professor’s words sink in. It was scary to think that by going home he could in all actuality be called upon by the Dark Lord. Perhaps he wanted Draco to join his ranks earlier than expected to help alleviate the loss of several followers during the attack on the Ministry.

“Are you listening to me, Draco?” Severus gave him a quick shake and Draco was once again able to focus his eyes on the man in front of him.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I heard everything you said. I was just thinking, that’s all.” Draco looked down at his shoes wondering, not for the first time, what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He should just do everything his father wanted, everything that was expected. It would be easier.

Now, Draco was back at Malfoy Manor, alone with his mother and dreading any communication that may come from the snake-faced, homicidal maniac his father worshipped. With nothing better to do, Draco let his eyes close and sleep finally took over.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Harry was once again awakened by the opening of the door. Looking up through sleep filled eyes he could make out the towering presence of the Minister.

“Harry? How are you doing?” Scrimgeour had brought a chair in with him and sat down in front of Harry. Harry slowly climbed to his feet and stood against the wall. He didn’t have his wits about him enough to yet answer the Minister’s question.

“Why don’t you just sit down and we’ll have a little chat,” Scrimgeour asked, waving a hand towards the bed.

“Why’d you have my stuff taken away? My wand? My clothes?” Harry stayed standing near the wall. He wasn’t about to sit on that nasty looking bed now, any more than the previous night.

“Harry, please sit. I will explain everything.”

“I’m fine standing,” Harry replied in a quiet whisper. He should be yelling and angry, but he was just too hungry and cold and his nose was swollen beyond belief. He just wanted to get the answers to his questions and work things out with Scrimgeour.

“I must insist that you have a seat, Harry. Our talk will take some time and I don’t relish having to look up at you during the entire conversation. I really don’t understand why you are being so resistant to sitting and talking with me.” Scrimgeour made it sound like Harry was being a defiant little boy.

Harry reluctantly made his way towards the bed. However, on seeing the nasty mattress again he just couldn’t bring himself to sit on it.

“Can I have a chair brought in, please?” Harry asked with as much respect and earnestness he could muster. If that kind of attitude would get him a chair, for now he would play nice.

Scrimgeour rose from his seat and went to the door. He spoke to someone just outside and then sat back down. A few moments later a burly looking guard brought in a wooden chair. Placing the chair against the wall, facing the Minister, Harry sat down. He pulled on his sleeping gown to try to make it cover his knees and turned his eyes on Scrimgeour.

“Now, Harry,” Scrimgeour started speaking as if talking to a 3 year old, “I am terribly sorry about the misunderstanding that occurred yesterday. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

“You mean the misunderstanding involving two of your employees coming in here and taking everything I had? And I mean everything, including my clothes? That misunderstanding? Or was it the misunderstanding that occurred when I was punched in the face and had my nose broken?” Harry was just starting to build up steam when the Minister held up a hand to halt Harry’s words.

“I am sorry those events occurred the way they did, but no, that is not what I’m referring to. The misunderstanding I refer to is the one where you thought you were going to be living in comfort at the Ministry free to roam at will and do what you like. Staying at the Ministry of Magic will not be like living at Hogwarts. There are rules, Harry, and there are consequences. You will live by my rules or you will face my consequences.”

Scrimgeour sounded angry, which baffled Harry. Harry had never done anything to personally offend the Minister, not like he did with Fudge. Perhaps Dumbledore had been difficult and defiant to the Minister in regards to Harry, but that wouldn’t be Harry’s fault.

“Why did you have those guys take my things and treat me the way they did? Why am I being held in this room that’s more like a prison cell at Azkaban?” Harry was really starting to get angry and his only hope at the moment was that he could contain his anger and convince the Minister that he could be trusted.

“I’m sorry the accommodations are not to your liking. The men I sent to you last night did exactly what I told them to do. They were to take all of your possessions, including your clothing, leave you with nothing but what you have right now. I had to assure myself that you had no wand, magical portkeys, potions or anything else that could be used to harm or hinder your stay with us.”

Scrimgeour rose from his seat and approached Harry. Harry had to look up to see him and when he did he didn’t like what he saw. The Minister gently took Harry’s chin in his hand and turned Harry’s face to the left and then the right. Removing his wand from its holster, Scrimgeour proceeded to cast a few healing charms on Harry’s face. Harry instantly felt better and the swelling on and around his nose all but disappeared.

“Harry, we have so much to discuss. I want to talk about your education and your training. I want to talk about You-Know-Who. I want to know what his interest is with you. Why is he always after you? Why does the Wizarding world look to you for their salvation? I want to know those things, Harry. Things that Dumbledore would never tell me, you will tell me, Harry.”

Harry thought that the Minister sounded like an angry, petulant child who was upset about not getting his way. It was like the Minister wanted to take his tantrum out on Dumbledore’s golden boy. It made Harry sick to his stomach to think that Scrimgeour’s anger towards Dumbledore was now being placed on him.

Scrimgeour went to the door and opened it. He turned to stare at Harry for a few moments. “I will send in some food and a blanket or two. Is there anything else you need?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He was so confused. He thought that the Minister was going to answer some of his questions. Harry thought he was going to have the opportunity to get some issues worked out, such as his living arrangements.

“Harry, I see that you are still somewhat in shock over your current predicament. I think after you eat and get some more rest we can finish our discussion. I feel that right now you are not up for a lengthy conversation. I will only ask one more time, is there anything else I can get you?”

“Can I write a letter, have parchment and a quill?” Harry was hopeful that the Minister would not deny him this.

“I assume you ask, Harry, so that you can write someone and tell them about your horrendous living conditions and mistreatment. I must warn you that if I grant this request, your letters will be read by me before being sent and they will only be sent if I find the information harmless to the integrity of the Ministry of Magic. Is that clear?”

Taking the opportunity for the distraction that parchment and quill would bring, Harry quickly agreed.

With a nod of his head the Minister left the room.

Harry sat back in his chair and contemplated his next move. He had to write to Dumbledore and tell him what was going on. But Harry knew that the Minister was a very smart man and would be able to read between the lines of anything Harry tried to discreetly put in a letter. Perhaps he was better off writing to someone that the Minister assumed Harry would not want to share his current predicament with. He could say some things that the Minister would never understand. Harry knew now what he had to do. He had to write to Snape.

Professor Snape,
I was desperately needing to know how that potion experiment we were working on together was coming along.  It is rather difficult to be patient as I know you said it would take a few weeks for the brewing to be complete, but I am rather anxious to know the results.  Hopefully the outcome is enlightening and will lead us to the next stage in our experiment. 
Please give my best to the Headmaster.  I truly appreciated his gift of friendship and his promise to visit.  I’m not sure what I would do if I ever lost his support. 
Say hello to Ron and Hermione if you should see them. 
Awaiting your response,
Harry Potter

Severus slammed the letter down on top of the kitchen table.  He had just received it a short time ago and had immediately requested that Albus join him at Grimmauld Place.

“Read it, and then tell me what you make of it.”  Severus busied himself by preparing tea and quickly had a setting out for himself and Albus.

Albus read the letter through and then seemed to read it again.  He gave a big sigh and then took up his tea and began to sip.

“He is being very Slytherin in his choice of words.  Quite impressive, actually,” Albus said as he sat down his cup of tea. 

“Yes, Albus, but what is it you hear when you read it.  You know him better than I, after all.”  Severus took his seat across from the headmaster and awaited the old man’s response.

“I believe it is clear that since Harry is showing such interest in the potion you are brewing and is almost wishing for the results to be enlightening, that he has come to the same conclusion as you and I.  The only way to free him from the Ministry is to go there and claim him as your son.  You can only do that if the potion gives the results we are now hoping for.  I can also tell from his words that he has somehow lost the portkey I gave him.  It is my belief that it was taken away.  It is also clear to me that Harry’s correspondences are to be approved before being sent.”  Albus picked up his tea and began to contemplate what their next move was to be.

“Yes, Albus, those are the same conclusions I came to.  I also do not like his use of the words,” Severus reached for the letter and began to read, “desperately, difficult, anxious, lost and awaiting.”  Severus stood and walked to the kitchen sink and quietly set his cup down.  Turning back to the headmaster he continued.  “It is clear that the boy is in some distress and perhaps even hurt.  Were you able to visit him as his letter suggests you were going to?”

“No.  I went and was denied access.  Actually, I was told, rather diplomatically, that I could come back tomorrow. I’m sure I will not have success then, either.”

Albus and Severus sat at the kitchen table in quiet contemplation. Finally, Severus could not stand the quiet any longer. This said a great deal about the potion master’s current state of mind as he usually savored peace and quiet. However, at the moment his mind was a mass of thoughts and none of them were good.

“Albus, I understand what the Minister has to gain by keeping Potter separated from those he believes have poisoned the boys mind against the Ministry and its ideals. What I don’t understand is why Scrimgeour would allow Potter to be treated as a common criminal. That doesn’t make sense and that is what worries me.” Severus began tapping his long fingers on the kitchen table, another indication that his nerves were frayed.

“Yes, Severus, that is my main concern as well. There is something at play here that we are being kept in the dark about. It is one thing to keep Harry away from us, quite another to mistreat the boy. I will of course request a private meeting with the Minister to see what information I can gain. I will also attempt to convince the stubborn man that Harry is better off at school or at the very least with adults that he knows, such as the Weasley’s.” Albus stood and made his way to the kitchen window. Looking out on the overgrown Black garden his thoughts began to contemplate what they would be forced to do if they were unsuccessful in freeing Harry from Scrimgeour’s control.

Turning around, Albus noticed that Severus was also lost in thought. The older wizard knew that Severus did not want the potion to reveal that he was Harry’s father, but they were both wise enough to know that it would be the solution that would bring a quick end to this ordeal.

“Severus?” Albus retook his seat across from the brooding man and waited for acknowledgement. After several seconds Severus slowly looked up at his mentor.

“Severus, I know that this is hard for you, that the outcome may be something that you do not wish. I also know that you are scared of what that potion may bring to light. I just want you to know that…” Albus didn’t get to finish his thought, as Severus quickly rose from the table, his chair falling on to the floor with a dull thud.

“There is no way you could possibly know how I feel. Do not sit there and pretend to understand what is going through my head. What I do know is that there is no conceivable way that I am that stubborn, arrogant, brat’s father!” Severus took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. He told himself it was anger, but deep down he knew that what was coursing through his veins was pure anxiety and fear.
Severus walked to the kitchen door leading to the hall and turned to face the headmaster. “Albus, what you should do is decide what your battle strategy will be when that potion shows us what I know in my heart to be true. Harry Potter is not my son.”

Severus left the room in a sweep of long black robes, leaving Albus alone to contemplate his next course of action.