1996

Harry smiled in confusion as he and Severus stepped out of the Floo. Ginny was waiting for them in one of the chairs. She was flipping absently through one of Severus’ Potions Journals. She looked up as the Floo roared.

“Hey, Gin,” Harry greeted. She smiled, and closed the journal, her fingers running along the paged edge as she did. She looked quickly between the two men in front of her.

“I hope you don’t mind that I stayed,” she addressed Severus.

“You are always welcome here,” Severus returned graciously and a pleased flush lit Ginny’s freckled features.

“Thanks,” she said quickly before turning back to a smiling Harry. “Everything all right?” she asked. Harry nodded.

“Just need sleep,” he shrugged. She squinted at him in appraisal.

“But you were dizzy. Harry…you almost looked frightened,” she told him, her voice soft with worry.

“Harry?” Severus questioned, his own voice now tinged with concern. Harry didn’t really want to look at either of them...the grained pattern of his father's lab door was much more interesting. He didn’t know how to explain what he’d been feeling. More than tired, his father had said and Harry couldn’t help but think he was right. But he didn’t know exactly what he was.

“I was thinking about Voldemort,” he offered, seeing very little point in the admission.

“What do you mean?” his father’s deep voice queried and though Harry wasn’t looking at him, he heard the swish of the black robes as Severus stepped toward him. Harry continued to stare at the dark wood.

Severus swished closer and Harry pulled his eyes from the door. “It was the same,” he explained. “Just like I told you at the Cottage. I was remembering that place…that darkness. And every time I do, I feel anxious.” His pulse quickened with the memory of all that had taken place there and he shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts that wouldn’t stop plaguing him.

“As I said, I could feel your panic,” Severus said quietly. “And you were dizzy?” he confirmed. Harry nodded. “Not simply tired as you claimed.”

Harry nodded, feeling guilty and embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to-”

Severus shook his head dismissively, and Harry nodded again, grateful his father seemed to be less touchy than he had been all morning, though it wasn’t all difficult to feel his father’s emotions, subdued though they were. Harry felt warm fingers moving to tangle with his own and with a start, he looked over to Ginny, remembering she was there. He glanced quickly over to his dad again and had to wonder if he had forgotten she was there as well.

Even if he had, he didn’t seem bothered that she was standing right next to Harry as he told him, “I would like to understand exactly what you are experiencing.”

Harry’s eyes flicked to Ginny, not wanting her to leave, but his father made no such suggestion, and so Harry nodded. Already feeling more at ease, he gave Ginny’s fingers a gentle squeeze before following his father toward the sofa. Ginny sat in on of the chairs, her hands twitching nervously in her lap. Harry smiled at her, hoping to ease her mind. He turned to face Severus.

Not needing to ask any more if Harry was ready for contact, Severus simply nodded at his son and cupped his son's cheeks in his palms. Harry moved with the pressure, angling his face so that he was looking into the comforting darkness, and the warmth was engulfing him—a familiar embrace.

Take me to Riddle Manor, his father’s flames directed as they settled around Harry’s storm, but there was no need for the order. The memories were on the surface, keeping the storm heavy with their sinister tension. This darkness was bleak, covering the storm so that the flames couldn’t tell it even existed. The void was drawing the life from him, and then the flames were pushing the images away, easily dispelling the cold. They flickered with worry as they explored other memories, allowing the storm to rest. Harry didn’t resist.

Again the emptiness was suffocating him outside the Cottage and the void was pulling him, forcing him to give in to its enticement as he played Gobstones. The flames pushed it all away again, their tendrils seeped through with Harry’s horror and shame now, as they watched a broken boy desperately trying to scrub Voldemort away under the water. Growing brighter with almost frenzied worry, the flames gathered around the trembling storm, easing his son’s pain. They didn’t want these memories to be here.

Why didn’t you explain to me? the flames questioned, their sadness echoing through the storm.

It's nothing to worry about, the storm argued. I just need to rest…some time…

This is burying you, the fire disagreed. I could have helped you. The flames felt doused with ice again at the pain radiating in furious waves through the storm.

I can’t think about this. The storm swirled in sudden anger as it tried to move away from that which was comforting. The fingers of flame held fast.

You will think about it, they commanded gently. And we will deal with it together. You do not have to do anything alone. Not ever again.

The storm quaked with remorse at the subtle hurt of the low flames, but the flames built up again, clearing the way for warmth and Harry allowed his father’s mind to soothe him, to quell the ache and still the chill that had seized him since they had first stepped into Highlands Cottage last night. With gentle movements, so skilled, Harry barely noticed, the offensive emotions were pushed away, past the rim of his storm where they would wait. They couldn’t rise again, not without his father there to help him deal with them. The warmth grew as the memories dissolved completely and then Harry was again staring into his father’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Harry said, flinching a bit at the hoarseness of the words. He didn’t think he was about to start crying—he’d done quite enough of that, but the lump in his throat apparently had other ideas. Harry swallowed the lump away. Severus was still holding his cheeks and it was almost as if he was afraid to let go. But maybe he was only imaging the fear in his father’s eyes.

Do not hide from me. The gentle command confirmed the fear that was now ringing sharply on the surface of the obsidian pools. Harry swallowed once more, either from guilt or because he felt overwhelmed by the rush of emotions he could feel radiating from his father; he wasn’t certain. He nodded though, thoroughly meaning the promise, and Severus’ rough fingers pressed against his skin, very lightly, before they pulled away.

“Poppy will need to see you again—this time with all the information,” Severus told Harry and though he didn’t like it, Harry nodded anyway. He supposed a Mediwitch would know about things like this. “She has been trained in trauma recovery,” Severus explained. Helping people get through trauma…

“Only students?” Harry asked quietly, holding his father’s eyes.

“She has treated adults as well,” Severus answered with a small nod of confirmation at Harry’s unasked question.

“Good,” Harry murmured and the turmoil in his father’s eyes receded a bit, but not enough.

Severus rested a hand on his son’s shoulder briefly, squeezing it a little before he stood fluidly. Harry stood as well, feeling much better now that the frozen ache had receded, and he wished he could provide his dad with some of the same comfort.

Ginny was watching them, her eyes crinkled with anxiety. And he knew he would have to tell her something to make her understand what had happened. She wouldn’t push, he knew, but the thought of confiding in her comforted him even more.

“We should heed Poppy’s advice and rest before lunch,” Severus spoke up and Harry, with a dull stab of disappointment, pulled his eyes from Ginny.

He looked over at his father. “Just a few minutes?” he implored and with only a second’s hesitation, Severus nodded.

“I need to contact Narcissa and Poppy. Ginny may remain until I finish my conversations,” he agreed.

“Thanks,” Harry said and as Severus opened his mouth, Harry rushed out, “We’ll keep the door open.” He fought down the heat that was creeping up his cheeks. Severus’ lips firmed together and with a pointed look, he turned to the Floo. Harry, not looking at Ginny, led the way to his room.

But as soon as they crossed the threshold, Ginny’s arms were around him, squeezing him so tightly, he almost couldn’t breathe. The grip loosened only enough for his lungs to fill with air as they stood together. And he forgot all about his embarrassment and his unease about Voldemort.

Ginny didn’t ask him for any explanations, nor did she pester him to talk through what he was feeling. She simply held him, her fingers sometimes coming up to stroke the back of his neck or to run lightly through his hair. And as he stood there, he felt as though he was melting into her embrace, his entire body easing of its tension.

And Harry knew she would wait. He didn’t need to tell her anything. Not now. He could just let her hold him.

--

Severus sat heavily on one of the chairs at the table. He rubbed gingerly at his temples with the fingers of one hand, moving the tips in tiny, circular motions across his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His entire body was leaden with fatigue and he wanted nothing more than to indulge in an extremely long nap. Straight through lunch preferably.

And Harry needed to sleep as well. No, Severus corrected silently, Harry needed much more than the short respite sleep would provide. He needed time more than anything—to heal from what they’d experienced. Severus wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t need to heal as well. He could admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that he’d been terrified in that dark place. Terrified of losing his son—he almost had lost his son. Again.

Severus allowed the shudder to course through his body as he sat alone at the table. The tremor was not only for Harry, but for the vast nothingness that seemed to consume him almost as much as it did Harry. For the pain and guilt the void had soaked him in. For the things he didn't wish to remember. For things he would never allow himself to forget...

Severus closed his eyes briefly under his fingers as the Floo opened.

“Severus?” Albus’ voice queried, covered with concern at the hunched form of his unshakable Potions Master. Severus Occluded his thoughts before he straightened. He fixed his face into his placid mask as he stood and turned toward the Floo.

"Good morning, Albus," Severus greeted, though he was well aware the Headmaster would not be fooled.

“Are you all right?” Albus asked. Severus simply inclined his head. Albus eyed him critically. “You look exhausted, Severus,” the older man chided gently. Severus said nothing, only raised his eyebrows in expectance. Albus frowned a little. “Scrimgeour asked to meet with Harry in his home-”

“No,” was Severus’ immediate response, though his face remained still.

“-but I told him my office would work just as well,” Albus continued with ease. “Following lunch if you and Harry are amenable.”

“We will be there,” Severus confirmed. Albus smiled in understanding.

Before he pulled his head back through to his office, he ordered softly, “Get some rest, Severus.”

Severus stared at the green flames as they died away, his gaze lingering heavily even after they’d gone completely. Wanting to have the necessary conversation with Narcissa over as soon as possible, Severus pulled some powder down from his ebony box on the mantel and threw it down, calling for Malfoy Manor. A house-elf greeted his floating head.

“Master Snape,” the little creature bowed.

“I wish to speak to the Mistress of the house,” Severus told him curtly.

“Yes, Master Snape,” the house-elf nodded eagerly, bowing slightly before it popped out of existence. Severus waited, feeling ridiculous in this position, half in and half out of the Floo, but he wasn’t willing to leave Harry alone at the moment. Not just for the moment...

Only a minute later and Narcissa hurried into the room, moving faster than she would normally allow herself. Her face was pale and drawn; her hair unusually disheveled. She made an erratic movement for Severus to enter, but he shook his head.

“I cannot leave Harry,” he explained. To his surprise, Narcissa made no comment at his refusal. She simply nodded.

“Have you heard anything about Lucius, Severus?” she asked, her fingers wringing against one another anxiously. “They won’t tell me anything at the Ministry and they escorted me home last night before I could-”

“I have heard nothing, Narcissa,” Severus interrupted her. “I will speak to Albus this afternoon. He will no doubt have information for you.” Narcissa nodded as she blinked rapidly. Severus ignored the twinge of pity he was feeling for her to continue bluntly, “Draco needs to come back to school.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened. “No, Severus,” she shook her head rapidly. “He’s distraught over what happened,” she explained. Severus raised a pointed eyebrow.

“He betrayed my son,” he reminded her acidly, “If you do not wish that fact to become common knowledge, not to mention, to halt the rumors which are now running rampant throughout Hogwarts, I suggest you bring Draco here immediately.”

“Rumors?” Narcissa repeatedly shakily.

“Yes,” Severus confirmed. “Some of which involve him threatening and attempting to kill Harry.”

Lucius’ wife paled beyond the usual porcelain ivory.

“Knowledge of Draco’s treachery will not help Lucius’ case if he is brought to trial,” Severus finished mercilessly and was satisfied when Narcissa gripped the back of a chair for support at his pronouncement. He watched as her pale throat constricted convulsively before she inclined her head in a jerky manner.

“I will bring him within the hour,” she promised.

“Aurors Shacklebolt and Farnsworth will be waiting at the gates. Scrimgeour has ordered that all students be interviewed with Veritaserum. They will conduct the interview,” Severus informed her, keeping all emotion from his voice. Narcissa nodded once more, her manicured fingers clutching again on the chair back.

“Thank you, Severus,” she murmured hoarsely, and had his mind not be so Occluded, Severus would have blinked at the display from the normally rigid woman.

“Do not thank me, Narcissa. I do this for my son,” he returned harshly. Narcissa didn’t even attempt to stop the tears that were pooling in her light eyes.

“He was frightened,” she whispered through her whitening lips. “They told him—they told him he was going to be killed…”

Her eyes were pleading with him to understand but Severus determinedly closed down the forgiveness he might have been able to give her son. He stared at her, his eyes fathomless and cold. “Have Draco here in one hour,” was his response and without waiting a moment longer, Severus pulled his head out of the flames. He quieted his raging inferno with ease, ignoring his fury at young Malfoy and made his call to Poppy, looking forward to this conversation even less.

--

Harry released Ginny reluctantly as he heard his father’s footsteps in the corridor. Though it didn’t make sense that he could tell, the footsteps were slow and heavy, as though Severus was having to drag himself to Harry’s room. There was a light knock on the open door.

“Come in,” Harry invited, twisting so the he and Ginny were side by side.

Severus entered, his features slack with fatigue. He looked as though he’d been arguing with someone…and losing. Harry tensed, wondering if it had been Mrs. Malfoy or Pomfrey.

“Ginny, you may Floo directly to the Gryffindor Common room,” Severus spoke, the usual melodic cadence stilted. “All of the Professors are currently occupied with interviews,” he explained quietly. Ginny nodded. “You, as well as your brother and Ms. Granger, should not be alone in the castle. Until it is confirmed that there are no students here who pose a threat to Harry, it would be wise to utilize the same precautions you took over the past month,” he told her.

“All right,” Ginny agreed easily and Harry wondered if she was purposely pitching her voice to be soothing.

“That applies to you as well, Harry,” Severus addressed his son seriously.

“Sure, Dad,” Harry shrugged and then had to still the smile as the word worked the way he had hoped it would; the shadows in Severus’ eyes cleared, and if Ginny hadn’t been there, he probably would have smiled. When he nodded in acceptance of their agreement, the movement was smooth.

“Will you be at lunch?” Ginny asked as Harry slid his hand from around her back and to her hand.

Harry glanced at his father and almost laughed at the resigned look on the man’s face. “Yeah, we will,” he answered Ginny, putting a little emphasis on the we. Ginny smiled. She said goodbye to Severus as he had stopped in front of his bedroom, obviously wanting to give them privacy as they said goodbye. He gave a quiet farewell to Ginny and then Harry was leading her to the Floo.

She took a pinch of powder, the grains spilling through her fingers as she leaned in to kiss Harry. He smiled beneath her lips, feeling exceptionally happy. “Sleep…all right?” she urged him against his lips. Harry nodded and brought her closer, his hands lingering on her hips. Ginny’s torso moved toward his and Harry found the tips of his fingers sliding up a little to linger against her smooth skin. It was cool and he felt the heat rising in his cheeks at this new sensation.

They were silent for a long minute. When Ginny finally pulled her head back, her cheeks were flushed as well, her brown eyes bright. Harry leaned down and kissed her lightly once on her warmed cheek, finally pulling his hands from her waist.

Still smiling, Ginny took the two side steps into the fireplace and threw down the powder. She was gone in a flash of green flames and Harry was left grinning at the empty Floo. Feeling rather giddy, he went back down the corridor. Severus was leaning over his desk, writing on a thick piece of parchment. Harry rested a raised shoulder against the doorway. “What’re you writing?” he asked after a minute. His father’s quill paused as he straightened.

“A message for Albus,” he answered, adding his signature at the bottom of the parchment. He pulled a green ribbon from a desk drawer and secured the parchment in a neat roll and then he called for the house-elf assigned to their quarters. With a few clipped words from Severus, the elf took the scroll eagerly into its knobby hands and popped out of existence again. “Narcissa is waiting for word of Lucius,” Severus explained as he replaced his quill in the inkwell.

“Is that why you called her?” Harry asked, watching his father carefully as he removed his robes and settled them neatly on a peg.

“She was reluctant to allow Draco to return to school,” Severus told him, turning around to face him again. Harry frowned.

“Ron told me he wasn’t here and that everyone assumes he’s being held with the Death Eaters,” he replied. His father made no reply. Harry studied his lack of response. “And he needs to be here to make it easier on Lucius?” Harry guessed.

“Lucius will likely be tried for last night’s events as well as for all the years he was in Voldemort’s service, no matter that he aided us in the end,” his father told him, sounding not at all bothered by it.

“But we’re going to try to help him, right?” Harry asked quickly. He knew it was irrational, but he needed to keep his word to Draco. To Draco of all people. But Lucius hadn’t betrayed them and Harry found he still could find no anger for Draco’s treachery— even the word was too harsh. The threat of death would do funny things to a person. Especially to a person like Draco Malfoy.

“It is your decision, Harry. My own testimony will mean little without your plea for clemency,” Severus explained and Harry realized his father would have been easily persuaded to leave the Malfoys to suffer for their actions.

“Won’t Dumbledore tell them he was helping us?” Harry asked curiously. Severus’ lip curled into a sardonic smile.

“Harry, I think you underestimate how much power you will wield with Scrimgeour and the entire Wizengamot,” he said. When Harry stared at him, Severus continued, “Do you realize Harry, that you defeated Voldemort? In a circle of Death Eaters, you, a sixteen year old boy demanded that his soul leave this world, and it did. In a split second, you defeated one of the most powerful dark wizards our world has ever known.”

Rather than argue that his father had assisted in that little feat, since they’d already gone over that, Harry made a face, completely destroying his father’s weighty monologue. “I don’t want to be thought of that way,” he complained.

“You have little choice,” his father told him. Harry sighed, pulling himself out of his slump and moving to plant himself on his father’s bed. His trainers dangled over the edge.

“Of course I want to help Lucius…and even Draco,” he admitted. He didn’t miss the quick anger that flared up over Severus’ features. “He’s a sixteen year old boy as well,” Harry shrugged quietly, though he had no disillusion that he would convince his father that Draco couldn’t have helped what he did. “And he’s no Gryffindor,” he added lightly, smirking at the flash of surprise that covered his father’s anger.

They were quiet for a minute as Severus seemed to be absorbing what Harry had said, but Harry was surprised at his father’s next words. “You need to realize that Lucius, if he is released, will not be lenient with Draco for his actions.”

Harry flinched, remembering Tonks’ experience with Lucius. He had hoped… “He—he’ll hit him, you mean?” he swallowed through the words.

“Draco has, more than once, been acquainted with Lucius’ cane,” Severus elaborated. Harry’s heart skittered at the euphemism.

“He beats him?” His voice rose a nervous octave.

“That method of punishment is common among established wizarding families, even with older children,” Severus clarified, sounding matter-of-fact and not at all bothered by what Harry saw as quite a barbaric custom. “Most of the Slytherins from Pure-blood families have been punished in a similar way,” his father added as though the predictability of such a practice made it perfectly fine, and Harry found himself staring at Severus as though the man has suddenly sprouted another head.

His father had obviously felt his shock as he explained further, “Wizarding customs, Harry, tend to be more old-fashioned in practice than those of the Muggle world. Changes that accompany modernization do not always extend to our world. And in most Pure-blood families, there is a strict code of conduct for children. A code which has been handed down for countless generations.” Harry knew that already, but he said nothing and his father continued, “Disciplinary practices have changed very little since the days of my great-grandfather. James was disciplined in the same manner on occasion, and it is likely that Black was as well.”

Disciplined… Harry felt his hands and chest prickle at the word. “You say that as though you see nothing wrong with it,” Harry said softly, forcing his eyes to stay on his father’s face as his nervous fingers clawed into the bedclothes. Severus gazed at him, his upper lip curled in disdain.

“My distaste for a method of discipline has no effect on whether or not a parent will continue to employ it,” he told his son. Harry felt his chest contract with the release of a nervous breath, though he knew his worry was completely ridiculous. He couldn’t really imagine his dad doling out such a punishment, especially not after what Severus had told him about his own father.

Harry was startled as Severus continued without prompting, “My own experiences with Tobias’ rather overzealous use of his belt leave the idea rather repugnant to me. Especially as he did not confine his corrections to the usual part of the anatomy reserved for such chastisement.”

The words caused a different sort of tingle to fill Harry’s chest. Indignation and anger on his father’s behalf this time. He wanted to say something comforting, but before he could, Severus was reassuring him, “Lucius will not beat Draco.” Harry narrowed his eyes, unconvinced.

“Why did you tell me then if you aren’t concerned about him?”

“I thought it best to warn you before you fight for Lucius’ release, rather than to have you find out later that Draco was punished and feel guilty over it.”

His father knew him too well. He already felt guilty and Lucius hadn’t even done anything yet. Harry sighed. “Draco doesn’t want his father to go to Azkaban…”

His decision was already made, and Harry was also pretty certain Draco had been punished more than once in the course of the last few months and he still wanted his father to be free. He didn’t even seem to feel any sort of animosity toward the elder Malfoy. And Harry found he couldn’t understand that at all.

“Just because he’s not technically abusing him, it doesn’t make it right,” Harry still felt the need to say, feeling all the more sorry for the Slytherin git. Severus tipped his head forward.

“Right and wrong are not often completely recognizable concepts,” he murmured and Harry wasn’t certain he understood what that meant, or whether or not his father was agreeing with him.

Changing the subject, a particularly disagreeable tendency of his father’s, Severus told him, “Poppy agreed with me that it will be best to inhibit your dreams for a few days to allow your mind and body to restore themselves before we begin any exercises to relieve you of your nightmares,” he added.

“Was she upset that I didn’t explain what happened before?” Harry had to ask even as he nodded in agreement with the plan.

“She was not pleased,” Severus answered vaguely and Harry knew his father had endured another lecture from the Mediwitch.

“Sorry,” he apologized, wishing he could have spared his father that at least. Severus shook his head in dismissal.

He handed his son a vial. “Take all of it and I will wake you before lunch.”

Harry took the vial, but didn’t immediately slug it down. He shook it a little, watching as the liquid bobbed back and forth along the slim glass. “Are you going to lie down as well?” he asked, looking up through his lashes. He was relieved as his father nodded.

“Thanks. It’ll be easier to sleep knowing you’re resting as well,” Harry told him in a quiet voice. “I really do worry about you, you know,” he added. His father’s black eyes warmed as he took in the concern on Harry’s face.

“I know,” he answered softly.