Harry managed to wait until after lunch to run and see Remus.  There was no hesitation this time, not even when he came close enough to feel the wolf struggling beneath Remus’s skin.  Harry didn’t care what sort of disease the man had; he still felt almost like family.  Remus smiled when he saw Harry charging towards him in the hallway, Hermione and Ron jogging after him with rather desperate expressions.  Forgetting all about his seventeen year old pride, Harry leaped for the man’s arms excitedly.  Remus accepted him with only a momentary look of surprise.

“Hello, cub,” he said, settling Harry’s small body into a more comfortable hold against him.  His startled smile was slowly settling into a pleased glow.

“Hello Professor!” Hermione gasped as she caught up to them.  Ron joined them more slowly; having slowed down the moment he saw Harry wasn’t going to disappear on them.

“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley,” Remus answered, automatically slipping into professor mode as he started to slowly continue his walk towards a classroom, “Mr. Potter.  Must I remind you all that there is no running in the halls?”  The statement was only mildly chastising and Harry ignored the words in favor of feeling the man’s amusement.  He looked up, however, a moment before another voice made its presence known.

“Indeed,” Professor Snape sneered, “ten points from Gryffindor.”  Severus was staring at Hermione and Ron rather than Harry as he said that.  Ron bristled.

“We were only running because you told us oof,” he said as Hermione elbowed him sharply.

“Yes, professor,” she answered, “It won’t happen again.”  Remus finally set Harry down, still grinning slightly as he did so despite the dark look Severus was now giving him.  Harry ignored it all and shyly leaned up against his phiter.  Except for that one time during lunch, he hadn’t been near him all day and he was enjoying the proximity now.  He only wished the rest of his friends and clan could be there, then everything would be perfect.  Severus’s expression lost some of its sternness and a hand went down to stroke Harry’s head without his quite meaning to.  The moment passed quickly and the professor pulled away.

“Do try to not be late to class,” he murmured, not quite as darkly as he was trying for, and he stalked down the hall towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  The others watched him go, Harry feeling rather bereft.

“Snarky git,” Ron mumbled, probably meaning for no one to hear.  But with a sphinx and a werewolf present, he soon found himself on the receiving end of two dark looks, one angry and one disapproving.  He turned red.  Hermione didn’t know what he had said, but she could sense the mounting tension.

“Professor Lupin,” she said, “Are you teaching here again?”  Remus smiled at her and Harry turned to look at him hopefully.

“As a matter of fact, Dumbledore asked me here to help with Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he answered.

“You’re teaching with my phiter?” Harry asked, surprised.  Severus hadn’t mentioned that he would have a helper.  Harry didn’t think Sev would like that much, especially if he had to work with Remus.

“Phiter means guardian, doesn’t it?” Remus asked, looking intrigued, “Yes, I am working with him.  He is still the real teacher, of course, I mostly help in demonstrations and the like.  And of course, I’ll be grading all of your work, Harry, as Severus isn’t allowed to.”  Harry nodded, still looking a bit uneasy.  It didn’t help that he could still feel the wolf; it was particularly strong this close to the full moon.  Remus was already looking rather pale.

“Er…I suppose we better get to class,” Hermione commented.

“You better, you mean,” Ron reminded her, “Not all of us signed up for every class in the school.  We have a free period.”  Hermione rolled her eyes towards Ron before swiftly going on her way.  Remus had to leave as well, hurrying in the direction Severus had disappeared.  Very soon the bell was ringing and Ron and Harry were left in a disserted hall.  Ron looked down at Harry, looking suddenly uncertain about what he should do.

“Er…want to play chess?” he asked at last.  Harry shrugged, then suddenly remembered the game Neffy had shown him.

“We could play senetos!” he cried, and taking Ron’s hand he started dragging him back towards his room, telling him all the while about the game with comments about Neffy, Basta, and the rest of the clan thrown in.  Ron followed reluctantly, still looking rather uncertain.

“Are you sure we can come in here?” he asked when they reached the door to the suite.  Harry gave him an amused look as he fished out his key.

“Are you not allowed in your house?” he asked, and he unlocked the door, pulling Ron inside with him.

“It’s your house too; you haven’t even been back to the common room,” Ron pointed out.

“I meant your home, you know, the burrow,” Harry answered as he dashed into his room and began searching out his new game.  He finally brought it out to see Ron still standing near the door, looking rather freaked out to be standing in Professor Snape’s living quarters.  Harry hesitated; the sensation Ron was giving off was akin to having his fur rubbed the wrong way and it was making him feel anxious.

“We can go to the common room if you want,” Harry suggested hesitantly, anything to make Ron stop acting all odd.  After a second, Ron nodded and grinned.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he agreed, and together they left the dungeons.  By the time they made it all the way up into the tower, Harry was beginning to wish he had suggested someplace a bit closer and with less stairs.  Their break time was halfway over as it was, and Harry was beginning to feel tired, his shoulder throbbing.  Ron said the password as Harry hadn’t had a chance to learn it and then led him all the way up to the boy’s dorms.  There were only four beds.  Harry knew that; of course his own bed wouldn’t still be there, but it made the room look odd.  Feeling quiet and shy and tired, Harry set up the game on the floor.  Ron sad down opposite him with his limbs awkwardly folded.

  Harry explained the game as best as he could in one long sentence and they began to play a couple of rounds.  No one else was about; either they were in class or they had decided to spend their break elsewhere.  The game was nearly silent, but not the intense sort of silence Ron sometimes got when playing a particularly challenging game of chess.  It was more the silence of two people who didn’t really know what to say.

“So…what are you doing about quiditch?” Ron asked suddenly, reverting to one of the few topics he could think of, “I suppose you would have to be the smallest seeker ever to play!”  Harry frowned.

“Severus didn’t think it a good idea for me to play on a team,” he answered carefully.  Ron scowled.

“So why does he get to decide?” he demanded, “Have you talked to Professor McGonagall?  You played when you were eleven just fine!”  Harry scowled in return.

“Well, I was bigger then,” he snapped back, “And Sev is my phiter!  Would you do something your dad said you couldn’t?”

“He isn’t your dad,” Ron said, his voice frustrated and a bit confused, “He’s still Snape.  So, he turned out to have something in common with you; that doesn’t make him your father.  Don’t you want to play quiditch anymore?”

“I can play for fun,” Harry screamed, standing up abruptly, “And he is my dad!  He saved me and he said he liked me, and you don’t know anything!”  His face red with fury and his vision blurred, Harry kicked the game across the room and stormed out of the room.

“Harry!” he heard Ron call after him but with a burst of speed Harry dove out through the portrait and ran down the stairs.  Knowing that Ron was probably following him, he quickly slid behind some armor, hunching down in the shadows.  Thanks to his small size he was nearly invisible there, and Ron ran right passed him.  As soon as Ron was out of sight, Harry rushed on, twisting and turning down empty halls until he came to an abandoned classroom.  He slipped inside, crawled beneath a desk, and began to cry morosely to himself. 

“Harry?” a voice whispered inside his head, sounding slightly worried.  But at the same time, Harry became suddenly aware that someone else was in the room.  Someone, or maybe something.  His shoulder suddenly ached with phantom pain, the dog bite burning with heat.  Harry whimpered softly, hyper aware of the shadows surrounding him.  It wasn’t safe there, all alone, and after that first, freezing moment when he couldn’t move, suddenly he couldn’t stay.  He ran for the door, throwing it open and charged down the hall.  He couldn’t tell if he was being followed, if there was anything there at all, though he was sure he felt something fly over his head, the wind of a spell brushing through his hair.  All he knew was that he needed to be somewhere safe; his room, his clan, his phiter.  But he was running blind, just running, and as he dodged around a corner yet another woosh of something swept past in the space he had just been.  And he was growing tired; between the running and his panic it was getting hard to breathe.  Then he sensed someone ahead.

Running on pure instinct, he charged towards the person.  They were coming towards him as well, albeit slowly, cautiously, but steadily quicker.  Then Harry dashed around a corner and saw them.  There were a group of about four people, but only one of them screamed of safety, and Harry dove into his arms.  The person caught him instinctively.

“Potter!” he cried, “What the hell?!”

“Baby Potter?” another voice mocked, but there was too much surprise in their voice for them to really manage a cruel tone.  Harry wasn’t listening to them anyway; he buried his head into the safe person’s robes.

“Potter!” the person cried, their voice alarmed and annoyed and confused, but they didn’t let go of him.  Then several people came into the hall at once.

“Harry?” Remus called, approaching the pair with a pale face, looking rather out of breath, “Are you all right cub?”

“I didn’t do anything,” the person holding him exclaimed quickly, “He just latched onto me!”

“Poor baby,” Parkinson’s breathless voice said in mock baby tones, “Did you think Dwaco was your dada?”  Harry didn’t answer any of them.  He was having enough trouble just breathing.  Then, finally, Severus arrived.  He said nothing but walked directly up to where Malfoy still stood in shock with Harry clinging to him and took the young boy from his arms.  Harry came free immediately, turning to burrow once again into his phiter’s robes.  Calm surrounded him at last; he was someplace of absolute safety.  Harry let himself sink into the warm feeling, and within a minute his breathing settled and then slowed as he fell asleep.  He didn’t hear Remus demanding to know what had happened, or Malfoy continuing to cry that he hadn’t done anything, or even Severus bellowing loudly for the students to disperse.

Severus then sent Neville, who had the misfortune happening by chance upon the scene, off to find Hermione or Ron or whichever of the ‘bloody Gryffindors’ he found first.  The rest of the people in the hall were merely told, more or less, to get lost, except for Malfoy and Remus.  Remus was sent to first inform Dumbledore of the incident and then to take over the last DADA class of the day while Severus had Malfoy come with him back to his and Harry’s quarters.

As soon as they were in the living room, Severus ignored Malfoy completely as he carried Harry into his own room and shut the door.  In fact, Malfoy had to wait nearly half an hour before the professor came back out, Harry still clutched to his side.  Malfoy stared at the small child.

“He didn’t want to be put down,” Severus said somewhat defensively, before looking sternly at the teen.  There was a long moment of silence between them.  Finally, in his most dire of tones, Severus ordered, “Explain.”  Malfoy took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, “I was just talking to Theodore, and Vince and Greg were there as well, when Potter came tearing straight towards us and tackled me.  Didn’t seem to want to let go.”

“Not that,” Severus said through clinched teeth, “Explain to me why, after I had explained exactly how abysmally stupid the act would be, why did you go ahead with the change.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”  Malfoy crossed his arms, a defiant and somewhat sulky expression coming over his haughty features.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answered.  Severus let off a soft growl.

“Transform,” he ordered, “Now.”  Malfoy glared at him for only a second before he turned his eyes away.  Finally, reluctantly, he stood.  A second later, he melted down into a feline form.  A small, chubby, clumsy looking feline form with large eyes and white fur.  The cat gave a mewling snarl towards Severus before it changed back again into a blond haired youth who couldn’t quite seem to meet the professor’s eyes.  Severus smirked.

“Not quite what you expected, is it?” he asked, some amusement managing to come through is scowl.

“You don’t turn into an infant when you change,” Malfoy answered, finally turning his eyes to glare at the other man, “You must not have explained it properly.”

“I told you it was too soon to attempt it,” Severus pointed out, “If you had only waited a few years that wouldn’t have happened.”  Malfoy scowled, then turned his eyes hesitantly onto the form sleeping in Severus’s arms.

“Is this why he came to me?” he asked, “Even if I’m only a half blood, and I don’t have a proper clan, like you?  It felt…strange.”

“It’s instinctive for all sphinx to protect cubs,” Severus answered, “You made yourself into this and you expected to be immune?”

“Is that why you…adopted him?” Malfoy asked, ignoring the question, “Because of this instinct?”

“No,” Severus answered instantly, “I adopted him because he is mine.”  Then, at the odd expression on Malfoy’s face, he clarified, “And I don’t mean I sired him whatever you seem to be thinking.  He is just…mine.”

“So it is instinct,” Malfoy insisted with a smirk.  Severus glared darkly at him.  “Oh come on,” Malfoy continued, “It’s Potter!  You’ve hated him for years, the golden boy who defeated Voldemort!  And now you say he’s yours?”

“I didn’t hate him,” Severus answered, “I had to…train myself to hate him.  It had to be real, or I never could have acted the way I did.  It was…helpful that he looked like his father.  And I got to call him Potter.  The instinct just broke through all the defenses.  As it seems to do with you.  Or do you still think you hate him?”

“It’s Potter!” Malfoy cried.  Severus merely stared at him with an altogether too knowing look.  Malfoy glared back.  Harry began to stir in Severus’s arms.

“Come back after dinner,” Severus directed him sharply, “We have…things…to discuss.”  That said, he waved the youth towards the door.  Still looking rather befuddled despite his attempt at a contemptuous sneer, Malfoy left.  Harry blinked sleepily up at his phiter.

“There was a monster,” he mumbled, snuggling deeper in his phiter’s arms.

“Where were your friends?” Severus asked, his voice soft and soothing.

“Ron’s mean,” Harry answered with a frown, “’Mione was in class.”  That said, he fell back asleep.  This time, he allowed it when Severus lay him down in his bed.