1977

Severus did his best not to smile as Lily twirled in a happy arc, her arms flung wide in what would be their sitting room. “It’s perfect, Sev,” she told him as she finally came to a graceful stop in front of him; her emerald eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice lilting with amusement. Lily smiled sheepishly at him.

“It’s only the eighth plot we’ve looked at,” she said with a shrug as she looked around the empty land in the small wizarding village.

“Tenth,” he corrected automatically. She made a face at him, placing her hands on her slim hips.

“You’re supposed to tell me I can take all the time I need. My wish is your command,” she said with her scarlet brow raised in indignation. Severus stepped toward her.

“You may take all the time you need,” he echoed, though his voice was perfectly serious. As far as he was concerned, Lily could change her mind for the rest of her life, as long as she was content in doing it. Lily narrowed her eyes in appraisal.

“And?” she queried archly. Her lips were twitching, though Severus knew she was doing her best to frown at him.

Keeping his face solemn, Severus caught both her wrists, wrapping his long fingers around them as he deftly pulled them and her toward his chest. “And your wish is my command,” he repeated obediently, smiling to himself at the Muggle phrase.

Fairytales, she called them—where the couples lived happily ever after. He had given her a skeptical look at that. She’d laughed and assured him all princesses lived this way and in the privacy of his mind, Severus had vowed to himself to give Lily the same pleasant fate as her storybook heroines. There was no one who deserved to be happy more than she.

“Do you realize, Sev,” she was saying breathlessly as she gazed up at him, “we’re going to raise a family here? Godric’s Hollow,” she announced the name of the village with gusto. Her cheeks were flushed with twin spots of pink. Severus smiled at her excitement, caressing her flushed skin with the back of his hand. It warmed further beneath his touch.

“It is perfect,” he told her, not taking his gaze from her. And it was. Their home.

--

1996

“Voldemort did this?”

Severus slid his dark eyes toward his son; the heat in the words was vaguely troubling. Harry was staring at the scarred shell that had once been their home. “The Death Eaters came after Voldemort disappeared.”

Harry’s jaw seemed to be vacillating between anger and sadness as it clenched and slackened repeatedly. “Why would they do this?” he finally managed to ask, settling on sadness.

“It was a game to them,” Severus said simply and watched with grief as his son shook his head in bewilderment. After everything that Harry had seen in his sixteen years, still his soul remained so unspotted that he couldn’t fathom someone hurting others for fun.

“Why do you keep it?” Harry asked, turning a bit to look at Severus.

“It is unlikely that anyone would wish to live where Voldemort committed two murders,” Severus told him, his voice dark. Harry swallowed and turned back to the house. They were silent as the sun warmed the sky gold. “And the property is in your mother’s name,” Severus said quietly as he followed his son’s gaze to the house where they had been so happy. “In your name now,” he amended.

“Well, you could just Vanish all of this away, couldn’t you?” Harry's voice floated back to him. “It’s…well, it’s creepy,” he shrugged as Severus raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“It is,” Severus acknowledged which earned him a small smile from his son. They were quiet, the warbling of birds the only sounds breaking the peace of the early morning.

“I wanted to see mum,” Harry said, finally breaking the silence; he was still staring straight ahead. Severus put a hand on his son’s shoulder and Harry closed the space between them so that they were shoulder to shoulder and for the first time, Severus was startled by just how tall his son was. It should have been no surprise as he and Lily had done nothing to tamper with the genes affecting Harry’s height, as both he and James were tall—they had in fact been almost the same height. Severus pushed the dull pang away as he thought of his friend, guarding the way with Lily.

“When you-” Harry swallowed roughly as he tried to continue.

“Nothing blocked my way on Halloween,” Severus supplied, cutting off the rest of the question. Harry nodded, apparently not needing to ask how Severus had known what he had been thinking and Severus wouldn’t have been able to answer him in any event. He just knew.

“Mum and James,” Harry went on, still talking to the empty space in front of them, “do you think they knew what was happening and that maybe they could tell I wasn’t supposed to die yet?”

Severus had already considered the question and was more than a little unnerved to discover that he had no better ideas about what had happened right after he had prevented Voldemort from making a permanent claim on his son. He didn’t even understand all of what had happened to him when he’d been with Lily after Halloween. His time with Lily seemed more like a vivid dream now than reality; his time with Voldemort—a nightmare. So he answered the only way he could, “I am uncertain why Lily and James would forbid you entrance.”

Harry didn’t respond as he stared; the house seemed to be mesmerizing him, gathering up all his attention. And somehow, that fact bothered Severus much more than it seemed it should. “But they did,” Harry stressed, the muscles tense around his jaw once more. Severus simply waited, wary of where Harry’s mind was taking him. His son had a strange habit of jumping to places where Severus’ own thoughts would never venture. Harry turned abruptly to him. “And if nobody stopped you, it was your time and I brought you back and that means that at anytime-”

“Harry,” Severus halted his son’s ramble gently, with practiced ease. Harry’s lips pressed together, the skin taut with his stress. The lips stayed smashed together even as Severus brought a hand to his shoulder. “It means no such thing,” he disagreed, shaking his head just a little. “It is impossible to have a complete understanding about what happened, but I will not believe that I am fated to die,” he finished firmly.

“Voldemort was fated to die.” The words came from between Harry’s pinched lips. Severus would have smiled if it had been any other time, in any other place.

“Voldemort created his own fate. Sybil’s was a circular prophecy,” he explained when Harry simply stared at him in confusion. “By coming here fifteen years ago, he created a Horcrux, making it inevitable that you would one day need to defeat him if you were to ever be without that piece of his soul and if he was to collect the piece he lost.”

Harry squinted at him, looking as though he was attempting to pull some answers from his father, as he tried to make sense of all that had happened. “You don’t believe in the Prophecy then?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied Severus. Severus shook his head without hesitation.

“Not in the sense most do, no,” he answered definitively. “It was simply a self-fulfilling declaration made by a person believed by both Albus and Voldemort to be a seer.”

Harry considered the words, nodding slowly as he sorted through the difference. “It wasn’t true, I guess,” he finally concluded, but Severus shook his head in quick disagreement.

“Sybil’s words were not literal,” he reminded his son. Severus watched Harry hunch his shoulders against the slight wintry breeze that was beginning to drift over the little village. “Put your cap on,” he directed and Harry obediently pulled his woolen cap from a cloak pocket and tugged it down over his ears. He raised his dark eyebrows so that they were hidden beneath the fabric.

“Can we go to the cemetery now?” he asked, turning from the decimation with a sort of finality and though Severus had no desire to gaze at the place that made him feel so empty, it hurt to leave. He nodded, keeping his emotions at bay. Harry didn’t need to see his pain.

Harry pulled his cloak tighter around himself as though to ward off what remained of the night’s chill as they made the short walk toward the graveyard. “Are you cold?” Severus asked with concern, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as he spoke. Harry shrugged, but then his eyes darted over to Severus and he was smiling a little.

“I don’t need your cloak,” he said, making a face and Severus was pierced with an unexpected grief. The wrinkles in Harry’s nose ironed out as he took in his father’s suddenly serious face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pausing now as they had reached the gate.

“You look like your mother when you do that,” Severus answered, stopping as well. A slow sparkle lit his son’s eyes as his fingers curved around the top of the still-closed gate.

“Really?” he asked and Severus allowed himself to remember Lily in that moment as he took in Harry’s eager question. His lip curled so that he was almost smiling—at both the memory and at his son. He simply nodded and Harry grinned, his face fairly shining.

“Do you wish to go in?” Severus inquired with amusement as Harry’s hand stayed fixed on the top of the gate. Harry blinked and nodded quickly. He pushed the gate inward. It creaked in what Harry would likely have found to be an eerie manner if they hadn't been bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun and Severus decided it was fortunate that they had come now, when there would be no shadows to entice them.

Severus had only been to Lily’s final resting place once. Six weeks after she was murdered. The day Albus had finally pulled him out of his solitude. The snow had crunched with his heavy steps, each footfall resounding like a gunshot in his ears. There were no tears as he’d stood here; there had been too much anger—too much hatred toward James for Severus allow his grief free range. That was the first day he could remember not being able to find his love for Lily; there were too many other feelings and the love had been buried so deep that day, he hadn’t found it again for years.

“Dad?”

Severus looked up, feeling dazed; he had lost himself in the memories. Harry was staring at him, his emerald eyes filled with anxiety. They were standing in front of the graves of the only two people, besides Harry, that Severus had ever loved. He didn’t answer his son’s query; the emotions had clogged his throat.

His heart directing him, he simply took Harry’s hand in his as he dropped to his knees. The unyielding cold of the frozen ground seeped through the heavy fabric. And then Harry was beside him and they were staring together, sharing their grief. Severus thanked the two who had given him the precious gift beside him. Lily had given him her love and even more than that, she had presented him with a son and against all odds...against all Severus had done to ensure that he did not deserve him, James had given Harry back to him.

Harry’s hand in his was steady, imparting his strength. “Thanks,” he whispered though he was facing the stones in front of them and it touched something deep in Severus that his son was thanking Lily and James for him. Just as fervently as he had thanked them for Harry. They stayed on their knees in silence until Harry finally shivered beside him. Even with the sun, the morning air remained bitter.

Severus stood easily and tugged Harry back to his feet. Harry sniffled as he stood; Severus squeezed his hand once before letting him go. He rested the same hand briefly on the stone which immortalized his wife before turning to Harry. Harry was watching him, a sad smile on his lips.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” he said in a hushed voice and Severus was almost amused by the display of graveyard reverence. “It probably wasn’t very easy,” Harry acknowledged, a touch uneasily.

Severus shook his head though. “I have not been here for almost fifteen years,” he said, feeling a slight shame at the admission.

“They’d be glad you came now,” Harry offered with a shrug, the kindness coming so naturally to him, that it was almost painful to Severus. So like his mother…

“It was more cathartic than I would have guessed,” Severus divulged quietly, feeling the need to speak...to fill the silence. Harry smiled at him again, as he brushed his fringe aside from where it was trapped under his cap. He patted Severus’ arm, a gesture which both amused and comforted the Potions Master.

“It’s peaceful here,” Harry commented as they stood together and Severus knew he was referring to the little village. It was indeed peaceful. Lily had chosen it specifically for its size and quiet location. Very unlike the busy, crowded Muggle town she had grown up in.

“Your mother loved it here,” he told his son. Harry grinned, the little tidbits about Lily seeming to energize him. They stood together, both of their gazes directed toward the village square only a short distance away. The village was still quiet, the residents not awake yet. The tranquility eased Severus, instead of haunting him. There were so many happy memories in this place. With Lily and Harry. And with James as well, in later years…

The calm and peace of the morning was shattered as the jarring pops of a dozen bodies Apparating in, filled the frosty air. Before Severus even registered that he had done it, Harry was barricaded behind him, tucked securely against his back, his wand extended as he turned to face their attackers. He was greeted by the flash of cameras and the wide grins of reporters. Severus reined in his scowl as much as he could and removed his hand from his son’s back, pulling his wand back reluctantly and sliding it back in his sleeve. How the hell had they found them here? Harry stepped around him, his green eyes wide and if possible, he was scowling as deeply as Severus.

A beady-eyed little wizard was the first to speak, his voice high and warbling, “Would Lily Evans and her husband welcome you here, Professor? After all-”

“My wife, and James Potter,” Severus interrupted smoothly when he felt Harry tensing beside him, “would certainly object to the disrespect being shown to them by you and your colleagues.”

The beady-eyed wizard stepped back, fidgeting as he moved. Unfortunately, his fellows were not nearly as cowardly. “We have a right to get the story,” a dark-haired witch spoke up, her head bobbing up and down as though it was on some sort of ridiculous Muggle spring. Without waiting for a response from Severus, she rounded on Harry. She thrust a newspaper in his face, waving it about. Severus snatched the offending papers from her, with a low warning snarl. She ignored him to ask Harry, “How did it feel to see You Know Who’s body, blackened and shriveled , Harry? It must have given you a great deal of satisfaction. After all he’s done to torture you.”

Harry was staring at her and Severus’ eyes fell on the newspaper’s front page. Harry Potter Triumphant as You Know Who’s Body is Cursed Beyond Recognition was the caption beneath a large photo of Harry standing triumphant over Voldemort’s mangled body; the corpse was twisted and black. At least that much had gone as planned.

“What the hell?” Harry breathed from beside him and Severus, cursing Scrimgeour, and possibly Albus, flung the paper down on the frozen ground; the pages rustled in the breeze. “I wasn’t even there,” Harry objected.

“You’re claiming you didn’t kill You Know Who?” A hawk-faced wizard demanded in a deep voice, his cameraman clicking steadily away behind him. Harry glowered at him.

“That’s not what I meant,” he bit out, his posture straightening in indignant denial.

“But that headline’s wrong anyway, isn’t it, Harry?” came a high, girlish voice that renewed Severus’ initial urge to strangle its owner. Rita Skeeter came through the crowd of reporters, her blond curls bouncing merrily as she waggled her fingers toward the newspaper as its pages flipped lazily against the ground. “You’re Harry Snape now, aren’t you dear?” she asked rhetorically, her voice cloying against Severus’ intolerant ears and there were gasps all around them. Skeeter shook her head sadly, so that her earrings jangled in an irritating cacophony. “And after what he did to your mother, Harry…’

“Hey!” Harry interrupted angrily, his hands fisting in fury against his sides. He stepped fully in front of Severus, his arms splayed out protectively. “That’s a lie. My father didn’t do anything to my mum!” he fairly shouted. Harry, she’s trying to make you angry. Severus directed the quiet reminder to his son’s storm and Harry nodded jerkily but he didn’t stop glaring. Severus glared once more at the collected group of news people.

“If you wish to speak to my son,” he began threateningly, leveling his worst glower at Skeeter, who simply smiled, “you will make an appointment.” The witches and wizards were looking mightily disgruntled at this decree. “Harry is not on display. He will not be gawked at and if I find any one of you invading our privacy again, you will most certainly regret it,” he added, keeping his voice devoid of any emotion, allowing the gleam in his eye to speak for him. Most of the reporters swallowed nervously and backed up several paces. Skeeter stepped forward once more.

“It will not be so easy to acquit yourself of this accusation, Professor,” she told him, showing her lipsticked teeth and Harry began his objection anew. Skeeter spoke right over him, “After all, Mrs. Potter, as you well know, is not here to tell us just what you-”

Severus, his anger rising rapidly to a point he wouldn’t descend from easily, pulled Harry against him and turned on the spot. They reappeared just outside the boundary of Highlands Cottage with Harry gasping in a huge draught of air as he seemed to lose his footing. Severus held on to him, until Harry dragged in another gulp of air and pushed against his father’s arms. Severus released him and Harry turned around, his face still penetrated with a frown.

“Will you stop doing that, without even warning me?” he snapped, his unfinished anger finding a new target. Severus gazed at him. “I wasn’t done,” Harry continued, his jaw working furiously.

“I did not think it wise to remain when tempers were so high,” Severus told him, which made Harry’s face line even further.

“I wasn’t about to lose control-” he retorted and there was only the slightest quiver in his son’s posture.

“I was however,” Severus interrupted calmly. Harry’s mouth closed in mid-outburst. He stared at Severus for a minute before deflating a little, his shoulders sagging enough that his chin almost touched his chest, but he didn’t lose eye contact.

“Oh,” he said quietly, his green eyes blinking slowly. He sighed as he brought his fingers to rub at the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he offered with a bit of a grimace and Severus recognized it was an apology for snapping at him. Severus nodded, accepting his son’s quick remorse. His temper was much faster in its downward spiral than his own, much like Lily’s though Lily’s had always been a much quieter temper.

“We should have left as soon as they arrived. It was foolish to allow them to speak." Severus shook his head in frustration. Harry raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised at the admittance. “It is not the first mistake you have heard me admit to,” Severus told him pointedly and Harry smiled slowly. It was short-lived. A frown took its place almost immediately.

“What is wrong with her?” Harry asked quietly. “Isn’t she tired of that by now?”

“She will continue to bandy the accusation about until it ceases to get a reaction from her audience,” Severus said seriously.

“You should have hexed her foul mouth closed,” Harry told him, curling his upper lip in a strangely disturbing sneer. Severus shook his head.

“Unfortunately, one does not require the ability to speak in order to write an article in the Daily Prophet.”

Harry scowled, turning away and studying the cottage in the distance. “I hate this.” The whispered vehemence startled Severus. “He’s dead and still, he can’t leave us alone.” Harry whipped around; the sharp sweep would have made any other man flinch. Severus remained still as Harry’s face screwed into an indignant scowl. “And now I’ll have to relive this over and over, not only in nightmares but with Scrimgeour and the press and everyone in my classes!”

Harry flung himself around again, his arms crossing in fits over his chest, likely having no idea that he looked for all the world like a four year old having a tantrum. Severus however, had no urge to smile at the image. “It is not ideal,” he offered only to have Harry turn around once more, suddenly bitter.

“Ideal,” he scoffed as his arms came down to his sides once more, and there was a hint of defeat in the gesture. “I’ve never known anything about ideal.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I could even wish for it,” he told him.

Severus’ brows lowered in concern at Harry’s odd attitude. He had not expected Harry’s ease to be so short-lived. “Harry,” he began seriously, “you have the right to expect the same now from your life as any one of your peers.” When Harry didn’t respond, his eyes still dark, Severus promised him, “You do not have to do anything that you do not wish to do.”

--

“I know,” Harry answered, bowing his head a little and pressing the tips of his fingers a bit more firmly than was necessary into his eyes. He wasn’t completely clear on just what had made him so angry in the cemetery. Well, the slurs against his parents had been at least part of the problem…

“Harry,” his father’s voice knocked against the wall he was building in his mind. He didn’t want to let it in just now. But there were rough fingers, gently resting against the sides of his chin and Harry finally looked up reluctantly. Severus was looking at him with his dark eyes filled with concern and Harry stifled the desire to tell his father he was fine. But he wasn’t fine. And he was too tired to argue that he was. Severus lifted his chin even more, studying him carefully. “I would like you to allow Madame Pomfrey to examine you once more before breakfast,” he decided and Harry, really having no energy to argue, simply shrugged. His father’s black eyes sparked with suspicion. “You have no objection?” he inquired.

“You already told me I’d have to see her when we returned,” Harry pointed out. His father narrowed his eyes.

“You are not simply attempting to disallow friction between us?” he demanded. Harry rolled his eyes, jiggling his chin against his father’s hold at the ridiculousness of the question.

“No, I haven’t made any absurd promises about never arguing with you again,” he parroted back. Severus smirked as he relinquished his hold on his chin. He tapped Harry’s jaw twice with three fingers.

“As much as it may be my undoing to admit, I do believe I prefer you this way,” he remarked and Harry grinned at him.

“What way? Insolent?” he asked, as though he hadn’t a clue what his dad was talking about. Severus’ eyes glinted in the sunlight.

“It is preferable to the melancholy,” he told him and Harry sighed.

He hadn’t meant to slide into whatever it was that he had been feeling for most of the morning. He knew though that his father wasn’t complaining about his attitude, only that he was concerned. Harry licked his lips, dry now from the chill in the air.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he admitted, keeping his father’s gaze; he was comforted by the black depths.

“Voldemort attempted to rip you apart, Harry,” Severus told him quietly, moving his large hand to rest on his shoulder. “I do not wish to frighten you,” he continued hesitantly and Harry would have bristled if it had been anyone else making such a slight against his Gryffindor courage, but he only nodded once, letting his father know he could continue. “Did you realize how desperate he was?” Severus asked. Harry’s neck prickled with gooseflesh; his body didn’t seem to care that his heavy cloak and cap should have been keeping him warm enough.

“He wanted me to go with him. I could feel him calling me,” he said so quietly, the words were almost lost against his throat. His father’s warm hand gripped his shoulder. “It felt easy to go with him…to let him take me…” And again, Harry felt the drowning, suffocating sensation he had felt at the Riddle House.

“Harry?” his father’s deep baritone was cutting into him and he shook himself away from the darkness. He blinked rapidly and found his father’s face again. “What happened?” Severus questioned, his voice vibrating with worry. Harry tried to smile, but it faltered just shy of success.

“I’m all right,” he tried to reassure him. Severus frowned deeply at him.

“You are not all right,” he retorted, sounding almost angry that Harry would suggest such a thing; Harry frowned at his tone. “What happened?” Severus demanded again. Harry shook his head, frowning even more. What the hell was his dad so tetchy about?

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, sounding grouchier than he meant to. “It felt like it did at Riddle Manor.”

“What do you mean?” Severus asked, his tone changing to a quieter one. “You were remembering visions there,” he reminded him. Harry shook his head.

“But it was more than that,” he tried to explain. “…It was like I was being covered by darkness…by Voldemort’s evil,” he whispered, wishing he didn’t have to sound like such a child. But of course his father didn’t seem to mind. He firmed his grip on Harry’s shoulder and smiled sadly.

“You and Voldemort shared a connection and it seems he was using that somehow.”

Harry glanced over toward the cottage; it seemed so lonely.

“So then you think Dumbledore was right then?” he wanted to know. “He was manipulating the piece of his soul?”

“It would seem so,” Severus nodded; the movement was stilted as though he wished it hadn’t been true. Harry drew in a breath; the air was cold against his lungs. He released it again but it wasn’t quite cold enough for his breath to be visible.

“It was supposed to end it,” he said to the air.

“The memory of what occurred and of the way you felt, will not simply disappear because Voldemort is dead,” his father told him.

“I know,” Harry answered. He glanced over at his father, who was watching him carefully as though he was afraid he was going to go into hysterics at any moment; his eyes were very dark. “How can you stand to think about what it was like…with Voldemort?” He shivered at the memory of the glacier, overshadowing both of them.

Severus’ eyes sharpened and he decided, “We should return to Hogwarts. Allow Madame Pomfrey to see you.” He turned to go back to the Cottage but Harry, not knowing why it was so important, grabbed his father’s sleeve. His father turned back around, his features lined with worry.

“You didn’t answer me,” Harry said, his eyebrows raised in expectation. “How can it not be affecting you?” he pressed, when his dad didn’t answer.

“It is affecting me, Harry,” Severus told him. His lips were barely moving as he allowed, “I feel now the way I always felt after a Death Eater Meeting…” He closed his eyes. “…Worse,” he added softly.

Harry swallowed as he took that in. “As though you’ve been tainted?” he asked with his eyes closed, hoping his father would deny it.

“Yes.”

“If you hadn’t been there…” Harry started to explain, but he shook his head as the thoughts tumbled around. “…I would have wanted to go with him,” he finished, and wishing as soon as he said it that he hadn’t.

“Evil is seductive,” his father agreed softly and Harry’s eyes flew open. “I have never been as repulsed and as enticed as during the times I stood in Voldemort’s presence. It is the way of all those who capture such evil in their hearts,” he explained and Harry’s throat felt dry. Too parched to swallow properly. “There is nothing wrong with you, Harry,” his father assured him, his voice deep and low.

“I-I” but Harry couldn’t form the correct words so he just stared at his father. The black eyes were warm with understanding.

“You thought Voldemort had warped you…made you evil,” he extrapolated and Harry nodded wordlessly. His father smiled a little. “Do you think me evil?” he asked.

“You defeated a Dark Wizard,” Harry reminded him in way of denial. His father grasped his shoulders. He didn’t shake him, but the grip was firm.

“We defeated him, Harry,” he corrected, his voice almost hoarse with his conviction. “I did not do it alone. I could not have done it without you. Do you understand me, Harry? You defeated Voldemort, just as much as I did. There is no Darkness in you. You are too good.”

Harry’s eyes were glistening by now as he listened to his father’s impassioned speech. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so much emotion from the man before. And Harry nodded, resisting the urge to wipe his watery nose on his sleeve like a little kid. He had known it of course. Voldemort hadn’t really tainted him, but he had felt too stained by what had happened and he knew as well that he was only imagining the heaviness that seemed to echo throughout Riddle Manor. But it felt so real…

His father produced a handkerchief, stilling Harry’s need to scrub at his eyes and nose with his sleeves. “Your friends will likely be arriving soon,” his father told him. Harry nodded.

“Can we wait to see Madame Pomfrey until they leave?” he asked, balling his father’s handkerchief in his fingers. He twirled into around with his thumb and forefinger while he waited for an answer, hoping he looked just forlorn enough for his father to give in. He congratulated himself silently when his father nodded reluctantly.

“Right after they leave and not a moment later,” he stated firmly.

Harry nodded obediently, feeling suddenly drained by their eventful impromptu excursion. Seeming to sense his swift change in energy, his father took his elbow and turned him toward the cottage. It wasn’t lost on Harry that his father’s strides were much shorter than they usually were as they crossed the large field to the house.

They Flooed to their quarters and since his father was holding on to his elbow, Harry stepped onto the hearth rug without incident. He flipped off his heavy cloak and cap, but before Harry could even move toward the sofa, his father ordered him to sit at the table. Harry did as he was told, too tired to argue, and within a minute, a hot plate of breakfast was staring back at him. Surprised by how hungry he was, Harry dug into the meal with relish, forgetting all about Voldemort while he ate.

Even with two helpings of everything, Harry was finished sooner than his father. Harry watched in amusement as Severus cut up his egg in six neat, even slices. He slid each section onto his fork and then chewed it with meticulous movements. He stopped mid section-spearing though as he noticed Harry’s smirking concentration.

“Instead of gaping at me as though you have never seen me eat before, perhaps you might like to shower and change before your friends arrive,” he suggested with a raised brow. Harry rolled his eyes at his overly verbose father and scooted back from the table and out of his chair.

“You need to take a shower as well,” he pointed out ungraciously as he turned toward his bedroom. Severus shook his head though.

“I showered while you were sleeping,” he informed him. Harry stopped in mid-stride. He turned around quickly, a frown set firmly on his lips.

“You didn’t sleep?” he demanded, not realizing how sharply the question was delivered until his father raised a brow, but he didn’t back down from the question. Why did the man always have to act as though he was invincible?

“I was occupied,” Severus informed him in something of an imperious tone.

“With what?” Harry asked incredulously. “Voldemort’s dead. You can’t possibly have anything to plot,” he said with far more grit than he meant. Severus frowned at him.

“I was not plotting,” he corrected coolly. Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

“Madame Pomfrey told you to sleep as well,” he reminded his father, who had the nerve to finish his egg without responding. “Well,” Harry started again when it become obvious his father wasn’t going to answer him, “what were you doing then?”

His father eyed him, before standing up from his chair; the breakfast things vanished. “I was brewing,” Severus finally answered, his eyes roaming somewhere over Harry’s head. Harry stared at him.

“You were brewing?” he repeated. His father nodded as though it was the most logical middle-of-the-night activity, though he still wasn’t making eye contact. “You were supposed to be sleeping and instead you were making a potion?” Harry’s voice was trilling higher against his will. “You needed sleep just as much as I did,” he bit out, in an attempt to still the squeaking of his vocal chords. Severus’ eyes found his again; they were particular inky.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” he said, his own tone and face relaxed more than they should have been and though Harry recognized the slight strain underlying the words, he ignored it in favor of saying exactly what was on his mind.

“You’re not invincible, you know,” he told his father irritably. “This isn’t the first time Pomfrey’s told you to rest and you’ve completely ignored her.”

Severus narrowed his eyes, the first hint of his irritation. “I am perfectly capable of regulating my own sleep, Harry.”

“No you aren’t,” Harry retorted and Severus’ black eyes narrowed even more.

“I will not argue with you about my personal decisions,” he said, his voice perfectly even again. “I realize you are still feeling ill at ease-”

“That has nothing to do this!” Harry finally burst out, his fingers curling against the back of his empty chair. “You said you were just as affected by what happened. I’m exhausted as hell and yet you didn’t even try to sleep!” he said angrily. His father’s jaw tensed only the slightest bit.

“Your friends will be here soon. You need to get ready,” was all he said, moving his lips only the barest amount and when Harry didn’t move, his father leaned toward him a little. “Now,” he ordered, his voice deceptively soft. Harry glared for only a second longer before spinning away and stomping toward his room.

1996

Harry didn’t slam the door once he reached his bedroom, but he did set about to make as much noise as possible otherwise. He clamored through his bureau, slamming drawers as he yanked out clean clothes and closing the big double doors with extra force. He went back down the short corridor, no longer stomping, but making no effort to be quiet either as he stalked past the sitting room. He didn’t look in so he didn’t know if his father was still in there but Harry figured he was probably in his lab—brewing. What the hell was wrong with him? Mucking about in his lab in the middle of the night? What was it with his father and his habit of never sleeping? And then Severus had the gall to tell him he needed to rest!

With a scowl, Harry closed the washroom door loudly. His movements continued to be jerky as he undressed and stepped into the shower, though there wasn’t really much more noise he could make to show his father just how irritated he was; the muffled thud of his clothes as they landed in the laundry basket was unsatisfying somehow. And since the shower’s knobs only required a feathered touch, there wasn’t even the squeak of turning knobs to make him feel better.

With a sigh, Harry leaned his forehead against the wall of the shower. The heat from the water was soothing and he found himself wishing he had done this last night; it would have eased the chill Voldemort had bequeathed him with much sooner. It would have helped more than his short nightmare-ridden nap on the sofa at least. He frowned as he remembered the disturbing dream.

And how easy it had been to talk to his father about it.

With a prickle of guilt, Harry closed his eyes as he began to wish he hadn’t been quite so rude. He certainly hadn’t expressed himself well, but damn it all, why couldn’t his dad just take care of himself? No one else was going to do it for him. And wasn’t it hypocritical for Severus to tell him to sleep, while he stayed up all night like some sort of nutter?

Harry straightened, swiping an impatient hand over his face to shed the water that pelted his face with his abrupt movement. What if his father had tried to sleep? And couldn’t. Was it possible that Severus had been just as disturbed as he was? But Harry shook his head. Even after Halloween, his father hadn’t had even one nightmare.

Feeling more frustrated with the man than when he’d left the table, Harry poured a generous amount of shampoo into his cupped palm and massaged it roughly into his scalp. He let the water pour over his head again, the water mingling with sudsy bubbles. He guided the last of the shampoo out of his hair. Feeling as though it wasn’t enough somehow, Harry repeated the process, only moving to lather his body with soap once that was completed.

The soap felt gritty, as though there were layers of grime on his skin. His entire body seemed to be covered in invisible dirt. And no matter how hard he scrubbed the white soap over and over, he wouldn’t come clean. It was as though he would never be clean again…

--

Severus scowled as he listened to his son slamming drawers in his room. Part of him wanted to go in there and order Harry to stop acting like a child and to demand that he treat him with respect, but the larger part, as usual, preferred to avoid a confrontation with his son.  And Harry was obviously on edge because of their confrontation with Voldemort and everything that had come before it. Surely it was better to allow Harry to simply vent his frustration, but Severus couldn’t even begin to guess what sort of effect Voldemort’s demise would have on Harry in the next few weeks…

Severus looked up as the stomping footsteps came back down the corridor and he watched with pinched lips as Harry stormed past, looking pointedly ahead on his way to the washroom and then Severus clenched his jaw in response to the washroom door slamming loudly. Before he could decide how to handle the childish display from his son, the sitting room door announced the arrival of Harry’s friends.

Smoothing his features into an expression that wouldn’t give away his thorough irritation with Harry, Severus went to the door. Lupin and Harry’s three Gryffindor friends were waiting eagerly on the other side. Even Weasley showed no trace of discomfort; they were all grinning. It was likely the mood all over Hogwarts…all over wizarding Britain.

“Good morning, Severus,” Lupin greeted. The greeting was echoed in three more voices and Severus inclined his head in response.

“Good morning,” he returned as he opened the door fully. Lupin ushered the children ahead of him. All of them were practically vibrating with excitement and Severus was suddenly dreading having to sit through lunch in the Great Hall. At least he wouldn’t have to attempt to teach today. His own sleep-deprivation, combined with over-energetic adolescents would have been a volatile combination—even without the addition of temperamental potions ingredients.

“Is Harry awake?” Ms. Granger asked politely, though she still had a soppy smile plastered over her face. Severus nodded, his facial muscles flexing involuntarily at the mention of his son; he did not enjoy this feeling of being at odds with him, and he thoroughly regretted his tone at the end of their mild row. 

“He will be with you momentarily,” Severus informed them, curbing the curtness from his tone. He offered them seats on the sofa, which the children accepted, though Lupin remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. His face was fairly shining and he was bouncing lightly on his toes. Severus did his best not to wonder what could have made the other man so happy. Voldemort’s demise surely could not be the cause for this much happiness.

“Is Harry feeling all right?” Ginny spoke up. Severus turned to her; her forehead was creased with worry.

“He is tired, but otherwise he is well,” he told her. Ginny narrowed her eyes a little as though she somehow knew that he was wasn’t being completely truthful.

“And how are you feeling? You must be awfully tired as well,” she guessed, her eyes appraising. He managed not to frown at her.

“I am feeling well.”

“Did you and Harry see the papers, sir?” Ms. Granger inquired, her fingers wrinkling the copy in her hands.

“Yes,” Severus answered, feeling a bit like he was being interrogated. Why in Merlin’s name were they attempting small talk with him? Ms. Granger cleared her throat nervously. Severus forced his jaw to remain relaxed.

“The whole school’s pretty stunned, sir,” she began awkwardly and Severus raised an eyebrow at the seeming pointlessness of her statement. The eyebrow made the girl swallow nervously.

Ginny, with a glance at her friend, spoke next, maintaining eye contact without any trouble. “Everyone’s pretty eager to see Harry though. I don’t think they’ll be able to not mob him when he comes to the Great Hall,” she told him. Severus tensed at her words, knowing that Harry would find great discomfort in the adoration of his peers and he wondered how long the two of them could avoid leaving their quarters.

--

Harry scrubbed the towel over his hair once more before flipping it into the basket. It disappeared but Harry didn’t smile as he usually did at the small display of magic. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, attempting to straighten out the pieces that never stayed where he put them, before opening the door. His gut was tingling nervously in anticipation of having to talk to his father.  And by now, he was anxious to simply apologize and be done with their disagreement.  

He drew in a steadying breath as he rounded the corner to the sitting room, wishing he didn’t have to interrupt Severus’ brewing. His breath whooshed out of his chest in surprise when he found his friends waiting for him. He hadn’t realized he’d been in the shower so long.

Ginny, Ron and Hermione turned toward him, their grins making Harry feel suddenly elated. Remus was looking much happier than he usually did as well. “Hi Harry,” his friends chorused together. He grinned at them. Ginny came toward him without further encouragement and Harry folded her in a hug.

“How are you?” she asked in his ear.

“All right,” he told her as he squeezed. She kissed his cheek before she pulled away. Ron and Hermione were standing now as well. Harry smiled widely at them before turning to Remus.

“Where’s Tonks?” he asked. Though it seemed impossible, his friend fairly glowed at the mention of the Auror.

“She’s still asleep. Pomfrey had to give her a Sleeping Draught after a few hours. She couldn’t sleep,” he said, and Harry realized his friend was bouncing up and down slightly. Harry frowned at him.

“So why are you grinning?” he asked, very confused. Tonks being so distraught over last night’s events hardly seemed something to smile about. Remus’ face split into a smile so radiant, Harry was fearful for an instant that his friend had gone barmy with the strain of all of things Voldemort.

“I asked Tonks to marry me,” he announced, sounding quite breathless and Harry, after gaping at his friend in stunned amazement, let out a whoop and went toward him. He grasped Remus in a tight hug.

“Congratulations,” Harry said happily. He pulled back after a moment though. “She said yes, right?” he demanded. Remus chuckled and nodded.

“She was almost as excited as you,” he teased and Harry stuck his tongue out at the other man, who was still grinning. Without thinking about it, Harry turned to his father, about to share his excitement but the expression on Severus’ face stopped him. His lips were set in a thin line and he looked anything but happy about Remus’ news. Harry’s smile froze on his lips. He turned back to his friends.

“When’s the wedding?” Hermione asked, her hands clasped together in excitement. Remus, frowning slightly as he gazed at Severus, turned slowly to her.

“Tonks said she needs to discuss plans with her mother,” he said, glancing at Harry and then once more at Severus as he answered. Hermione and Ginny made strange, soft squealing noises while Ron was looking rather pale. And Harry wondered with amusement if his friend thought marriage was catching.

“Oh, Professor Lupin, that’s so exciting,” Hermione was gushing. Remus grinned again, before darting his eyes to Severus. He cleared his throat a little before turning to Harry.

“I’d like you to be my best man, Harry,” he informed him, sounding rather nervous all of a sudden. Harry grinned at his friend.

“I’d like that,” he said sincerely, thinking how much his mum and James would have wanted to be there for Remus…and Sirius. He pushed all thoughts of his godfather way as Remus clapped him on the shoulder before addressing Severus, his tone more reserved.

“I would be honored, Severus, if you would stand with me as well.”

Severus’ face was a blank mask, but Harry noticed the pleased surprise that glinted in his father’s black eyes and with one smooth movement, his head tipping forward, Severus was agreeing. Remus’ posture relaxed a little and he smiled easily around the room. He looked so happy and though Severus was the only one not openly smiling, even his mood seemed to have lifted a bit.

Harry felt another surge of guilt for the way he’d spoken to his father earlier. He tried a small smile in his direction; Severus’ jaw relaxed and his eyes softened.

“Perhaps you and your friends would like to visit in your room,” he suggested. Harry, feeling marginally better, smiled at his friends’ eager looks and with a last grin for Remus, he led his friends toward his room.

Ron and Hermione’s eyes lingered over the open door to Severus’ room as they turned to Harry’s bedroom. Ron’s eyes were wide with amazement. “You know,” he whispered quietly as they stood in the corridor, “I never would have expected Snape to have a satin bedspread…is it satin, Harry?” he asked in wonder. Harry rolled his eyes and gave Ron a light shove into his room. Ron made a noise of protest but went in anyway.

“It’s lovely,” Hermione told him happily as she took in his room. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Hermione.”

Ron nodded his agreement before plopping himself in the chair. He leaned forward on his elbows. “What the hell happened to You Know Who, Harry?” he asked, his ginger eyebrows scrunched together.

Harry waited until both Hermione and Ginny had chosen spots on the bed before sitting lightly on the edge beside Ginny. She took his hand. He smiled fleetingly at her before addressing Ron, “They had to make sure his soul wouldn’t have a body to go back to.”

“So you had to put a curse on his body?” Ron concluded with a grimace.

“But wasn’t it just awful to-” Hermione began nervously, but Harry shook his head in resignation.

“I wasn’t there. The picture’s been manipulated. Dumbledore was supposed to perform the curse, but since he didn’t mention it last night…”

Hermione and Ginny exchanged looks. “But Severus said you both saw the picture,” Ginny pointed out, ignoring Ron again as he made a face at her use of Severus’ given name. “He didn’t know if Dumbledore actually cast the Curse?” she asked. Harry shrugged.

“I don’t think so,” he answered, hoping not to give her an inkling that he was at odds with his father, but he knew it was unlikely she didn’t realize it already. “Dumbledore must have been the one though,” Harry reasoned, though he really didn't care one way or the other. Voldemort's soul wouldn't be rejoining his body, and that's all that mattered. “No one else except Remus knew about it.” His friends nodded and with a sigh, Harry told them about the reporters they’d met in the cemetery that morning.

“I can’t believe that woman,” Hermione said through her teeth. “Why don’t you just tell your dad about her being an Animagus?”

“He knows,” Harry told her. “I don’t think he plans to let her continue on this way for much longer. He was really angry this morning.” He shook his head in agitation. “But even without Skeeter, there were plenty of others who were sniffing around for blood. The whole school will know by this evening’s post that I’ve changed my name. I’ll never hear the end of that either,” he lamented.

His friends were gazing at him with sympathy. To Ron, Harry said, “You best stay away from me for awhile.” Ron looked at him in surprise. Harry shrugged. “I don’t want you getting into trouble again when I have to hex someone,” he explained. Ron frowned.

“McGonagall gave all of us a reprieve from our detentions…in celebration of You Know Who’s being dead,” he said, not sounding particularly happy about it. “But she said if any of us step out of line again, she’ll have us expelled.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Dumbledore’d never allow it,” he reassured his friend.  But at Hermione’s frown, he hastened to add, “But yeah, you should still stay out of trouble.” Hermione nodded in satisfaction, to which Ron made a face.

Hermione ignored him as she leaned forward. “There are Aurors all over,” she told him in a quiet voice as though she was afraid his father and Remus would hear her. Harry’s black eyebrows rose in surprise. “They’ve been given special permission by the Minister to question all the students…to make sure no one has any affiliation with Voldemort,” Hermione explained.

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. He’d never really imagined what would have to happen after Voldemort was gone. In concern, he asked, “Have they questioned any of you?” He tensed when all three of them nodded. “What did they do?” he asked with a fair amount of apprehension.

“Dumbledore only agreed if the professors sat in on the interviews,” Ginny assured him quickly. “Lupin was with us right after breakfast…they administered Veritaserum,” she told him, making a face. And that made Harry tense further…the idea that his friends had been treated like criminals… Ginny, sensing his stress, squeezed his hand. “They only asked us a few questions and they were perfectly cordial about it,” she told him. Ron and Hermione both nodded.

“They didn’t hurt us or anything, mate,” Ron said in a voice, that for some reason calmed Harry’s nerves. His friend smiled at him and Harry smiled as well. Having them here made everything seem so normal…

“But aren’t they supposed to have a parent’s permission?” he pressed anyway. Hermione nodded.

“Normally they would, but Scrimgeour wrote some sort of decree and I don’t think most of the parents would protest anyway,” she confided, lowering her voice again. “Everyone is exceptionally anxious to put Voldemort behind them.”

“And it doesn’t help that there was an article in the Prophet about conspiracies…telling everyone to be wary of who they trust as the Aurors work to round up every last one of Voldemort’s followers,” Ginny put in, shaking her head a bit. “This morning Seamus accused Colin Creevey of acting dodgy. He actually suggested to McGonagall that he might have been working for Voldemort.”

Despite the enormity of all that had happened, Harry couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing at the image. “Colin!” he gasped out in between his somewhat hysterical laughter. “What was he doing? Trying to take pictures of me for Voldemort’s photo album?”

Ron chuckled along with him but both Ginny and Hermione were eyeing him warily. Hermione’s pert mouth turned down in a frown. “Are you all right, Harry?” she asked.

Still grinning, he shrugged. “Sure, Hermione. Why shouldn’t I be?” he asked with a carelessness he didn’t feel. Hermione frowned further.

“Harry,” she began, enunciating the word as though she were talking to someone very thick, “you’re sort of reminding me of the day you went into the Pensieve. You seem morose one minute and now you’re laughing-”

Harry’s mirth disappeared. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Hermione,” he insisted. “Voldemort’s dead…everything’s wonderful.”

The fact that not one of them, even Ginny, knew exactly what had happened after they’d activated the Charm…well, he preferred it that way. They didn’t need to know. And Harry knew they wouldn’t understand.  They couldn’t possibly understand.

“Harry,” Hermione started again; Ron was shaking his head at her. Hermione pursed her lips but still pressed, “Are you certain, Harry?” When Harry simply nodded, she added quietly, “All of us will listen, Harry, if you want to talk to us.”

Harry sighed, feeling suddenly deflated, and rather foolish for being irritated with her. “I know, Hermione. I’m all right though.” With a deep breath, he added, “It was wretched, but I’ll be all right.” He smiled just to show her he meant what he said. He felt Ginny’s fingers brushing against his back and the tiny fluttering movements soothed him even more.

Hermione didn’t look particularly convinced but she didn’t say anything more and in a very atypical maneuver, Ron swiftly smoothed over the discomfort. He produced a bag of Gobstones from his pocket, and challenged the other three to a four-way game. Giving his friend a grateful grin, Harry accepted.

--

“Is everything all right, Severus?”

The quiet question was full of concern and Severus had to force himself not to immediately snap at Lupin. He turned toward him, his features perfectly composed. “Yes,” he answered with as much patience as he could. Lupin shook his head, looking to be having an internal debate with himself. Severus watched him, feeling a strange mix of irritation and amusement at Lupin’s struggle. Remus finally sighed.

“I spoke to Albus this morning,” he finally said and Severus knew immediately that whatever struggle the man had been having, he had lost it; that wasn’t what Lupin had wanted to say. “He cast the curse on Voldemort’s body. Scrimgeour apparently insisted on having a photograph taken.”

Severus nodded. “The public requires evidence of his expulsion,” he returned, making certain his tone conveyed a complete disaffection with this morning’s paper. Wizarding Britain did have the right to feel secure now that Voldemort was disposed of. The Daily Prophet, on the other hand, did not have the right to use his son to sell their paper…

“Aurors have begun interviewing students, just as Albus suspected they would.”

Severus nodded once more. “Veritaserum?” he queried without feeling. He was pleased when Lupin nodded. He cared very little for the rights of the students. As long as it would mean Harry was safe, Scrimgeour could lock down the entire school if he chose.

“They started with those closest to Harry.”

“His friends were accompanied by one of the staff, I presume?” Severus found himself asking, and was oddly satisfied as Remus nodded again.

“I was with them. They only asked questions about Voldemort,” he answered. A short pause. “It’s known by now that Draco’s not in the castle. The gossip is rapidly spreading that he was with Voldemort last night. Some are saying he attempted to kill Harry.”

Severus’ lips thinned at the news. It would be exceedingly difficult to gain favor for Lucius and his son with such rumors. “Will he be returning today?”

Remus shook his head. “Albus told me Narcissa is not willing to let him out of her sight.”

Severus scowled at the woman’s stupidity. “I will contact her,” he promised. “We will need Order Aurors to interview Draco,” he added and Lupin nodded.

“Shacklebolt has already agreed…Farnsworth as well. Tonks is not an ideal choice as she was too closely involved with last night’s events…” he explained unnecessarily. Severus nodded; the movement felt awkward. A tepid silence followed. Lupin was studying him and Severus did not enjoy the scrutiny. There was the look of a battle raging behind the other man’s eyes again before Lupin finally stood a little straighter.

“Harry seems off…what happened?” he finally asked the question he’d been toying with since Harry had entered the room, and with a refreshing bluntness as well; his brown eyes were intense.

“Voldemort wanted Harry,” Severus answered. Lupin said nothing, for they had known it would happen that way. “He used Harry’s guilt in an attempt to separate us.” Remus looked confused. Severus sighed in agitation. “He accused Harry of killing Black…and you,” he finished tersely. Remus lips moved a little, but he didn’t seem to be able speak.

“Harry must have been devastated,” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse and Severus was relieved he hadn’t shared any of the bastard’s other taunts. Remus shook his head. “He blames himself for Sirius,” he said just as quietly, almost to himself. Severus’ jaw jumped.

“I am aware,” he returned icily when he was in control of his muscles again. Lupin frowned.

“Of course, Severus. I didn’t mean to-”

Lupin stopped speaking abruptly as laughter floated in from down the corridor—Harry’s laughter, Severus recognized immediately. He almost closed his eyes in relief. The sound was even more welcome than it had been at Highlands Cottage.

--

Harry and his friends had settled on the floor around Ron’s game and Harry figured they’d been playing for awhile, though he had been paying little attention. His mind was whirring around the things he could not say to his friends—the feelings he didn’t want to remember. And he was in no mood for Gobstones anymore, but he played anyway, feeling the time dragging by slowly. He gathered a few of the stones in his hand when his turn came around again.

The smooth spheres winked at him…the small orbs cool against his skin, like the ice had been against his storm…the chips of Voldemort…

Harry fingers dug around the stones as a wave of dizziness washed through him. He grabbed at the floor for support, but its smooth surface offered little assistance. He could feel himself falling and the void was so immense…

“Harry!

Harry blinked woozily, his eyelids dragging back open. He wasn’t even certain he’d meant to close them. Ginny’s face was right in front of his and then with a curt movement, Ginny’s face became his father’s. Harry stared at him in confusion; the black eyes looked almost feverish.

“Harry?” Strong fingers were on his shoulders. Harry shook his head, trying to wiggle out of his father’s grasp.

“I’m all right,” Harry said for perhaps the tenth time since last night. The refrain was becoming tiresome.

“What happened?” Severus asked roughly, paying no attention to Harry’s friends. “I could feel your panic from the sitting room,” he told him, speaking in an anxious, low voice. Harry shook his head in denial.  He hadn’t panicked.  He was certain of that, at least.

“I’m just tired,” he explained. “I’m still really tired,” he tried to insist when his father frowned at him.

“You were disoriented,” he stated flatly and Harry narrowed his scratchy eyes. “I was as well,” Severus added, his eyes holding Harry’s as if daring the boy to argue. Harry glared at him.

“You’re even more tired than I am,” he muttered. Severus stood up abruptly and Harry’s insides pinched as his father wobbled slightly; their connection obviously remained as strong as ever.

“Get up,” Severus commanded, the even toned marred by the irritation shining from his eyes. Harry used his palms to hoist himself up and the lingering disorientation waved through him again.

Severus moved swiftly, his fingers moving around Harry’s upper arm, but the grip was light as he was tugged upward. The hand stayed until Harry was steady again, and then Harry realized that his friends were all staring at them and he felt a hot flush spilling up his neck.

“Harry needs to see Madame Pomfrey. Professor Lupin will escort you out of the dungeons,” Severus dismissed all of them coldly. Ron pulled a hesitant Hermione out of his path and even Ginny moved a few steps toward Remus. Harry had a moment’s defiant urge to refuse to go with his father, but Severus turned toward him, his eyes darkest coal and Harry moved forward, almost automatically. He felt Ginny’s fingers brushing against his as he passed and he gave her a reassuring smile. He knew Ron and Hermione hadn’t seen his father angry with him in this sort of context. They were likely going to be pestering Ginny and Remus for confirmation that Severus wasn’t going to flay him, but Harry, even with the angry glint in his father’s eyes, felt only irritation as he left his room.

Severus followed Harry into the sitting room, stepping into the Floo after him. Harry avoided Severus’ eye as the flames took them to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey was applying bandages soaked in some green potion to a girl’s leg as Harry stumbled out; his father’s hand stopped him from falling, and kept its hold as they moved toward a bed. Pomfrey looked up, her face lining with wary concern as Severus guided Harry. The Mediwitch finished her ministrations on the sleeping girl and came over to them, her wand already out.

“What happened?” she asked briskly.

Even though his father opened his mouth to reply, Harry spoke over him, not wishing to excite the situation. “I’m just tired,” he told the Mediwitch. She raised her eyes at Severus’ frown.

“You are more than tired,” he contradicted.  Turning to Pomfrey, he snapped, “He’s been disoriented, and close to passing out, twice this morning.”  He was glowering fully now and had Harry not been feeling quite so exhausted, he would have taken it as the warning that it was.

“I am tired,” he said irritably, “and Voldemort tried to kidnap my soul or whatever it was that he was doing and I’m annoyed that everybody can’t just leave me alone.” He finished his heated ramble with a glare at both his father and Pomfrey. Severus’ answering glare diminished Harry’s considerably.

“If you are referring to either myself or Madame Pomfrey, you should realize that we cannot leave you alone until we-”

“I’m not talking about either of you,” Harry interrupted crossly, decidedly not in the mood for his father’s commentary right now. Severus’ face darkened, but before he could comment, Pomfrey stepped in front of him.

“Lay back, Harry,” she directed.  Grumbling, Harry complied. Severus stepped back around the Mediwitch and took out his own wand. He ignored Pomfrey’s disgruntled look as they performed simultaneous Diagnostic Spells. Pomfrey narrowed her eyes as she snapped her wand down.

“Did you sleep after I left your quarters?” she asked, sounding very annoyed.

“Of course I did,” Harry told her, unable to quell the irritation. Pomfrey’s eyes flashed up to Severus.

“How long did he sleep?”

“I’m right here, you know,” Harry pointed out, pushing himself up on his elbows. Pomfrey ignored him, though his father did not. He gave Harry a hard look. Harry pursed his lips at the silent rebuke, but didn’t comment further as he was discussed.

“He slept for four hours,” Severus relayed. Pomfrey stared at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“What do you expect, Severus?” Pomfrey scolded. “Of course he’s losing focus, not to mention becoming increasingly irascible,” she continued, to which Harry made a face. “I’ve already told you that both of you have been through too much strain in the past month and now with these last few days, it’s a wonder that both of you aren’t passed out cold.”

“Especially as you haven’t slept at all,” Harry added pointedly to his father. Severus turned to face him, his face wrought with displeasure and Harry bit his lip nervously, wondering if perhaps he’d just pushed his father too far.

“Severus!” Pomfrey scolded, and Severus dragged his eyes from his son. “You’ve been awake since you returned?” she demanded.

“I am perfectly-” Severus began snappishly but Pomfrey cut him off with a wave of her wand and a scowl.

“Severus Snape,” she admonished, “either you will begin to take proper care of yourself or I will recommend to Albus that you take a leave of absence.” Severus went rigid in front of her, but she ignored him. “You’re going to kill yourself if you continue to ignore your health this way,” she raged. “Both of you will rest before lunch and sleep a full eight hours tonight or I’ll have you and your son confined to the Infirmary. Is that clear?” She pinned both of them with a furious glare and Harry cringed at the look on his father’s face. Severus’ neck had begun to flush during Pomfrey’s scolding and now his features were so stiff, he almost looked like a statue.

“It is,” Severus finally answered without even moving a muscle. Pomfrey looked between Harry and Severus with another threatening glare, before handing Severus two vials.

“Both of you will take a Sleeping Draught tonight and I will see you in the morning for another check-up.” She sounded just like she was talking to a witless first year and Harry squirmed uncomfortably, knowing his father was likely about to explode due to her condescending treatment. But Severus only nodded and with another sharp look, Pomfrey turned around and went into her office, closing the door loudly behind her. They watched her go; Severus’ eyes remained fixed on the office door.

Harry sat up slowly. His father continued to stare at Pomfrey’s wooden door.

“I could do with some rest,” he suggested, hoping to avoid the lecture he was certain was imminent.

“It can wait,” Severus informed him ominously as he turned back around. Harry watched warily as his father stepped toward him, his mouth turned down in a firm frown. “I believe we are overdue for a discussion,” he added, his tone frosty. Harry’s fingers twisted in his sweatshirt.

“I shouldn’t have said that in front of Pomfrey,” he acknowledged, which made his father scowl deepen.

“No you should not have,” he agreed firmly. “Your irritation with me does not need to be displayed all over Hogwarts,” he added and Harry had to bite back a retort about the exaggeration of such a statement. Severus’ eyes narrowed. “You have something to say?” he queried, his tone dark, and Harry didn’t like it at all.

Harry chewed on his lip, moving his eyes to study the wall of empty beds on the other side of the Infirmary. He took a breath, making certain he was calm before trying to explain. “I was worried about you.”

Severus’ features softened a little, but he still shook his head.  He was frowning slightly, looking slightly confused as he answered, “It is inappropriate for you to shout at me, even if you are concerned.”

Harry’s fingertips pressed into his knees as he nodded. “I know,” he agreed softly, his eyes coming back to meet Severus’. “I guess I really am still feeling sort of uneasy about what happened,” he admitted, hoping to smooth the rest of their row over. “I know it’s not an excuse for shouting at you,” he added quickly.

“No it is not,” Severus agreed quietly. “You are far too old to be indulging in such tantrums, Harry,” he admonished and Harry flushed, both embarrassed and irritated by his father’s observation—and his apparent lack of concern about Harry’s unease.

“I wasn’t having a tantrum,” Harry disagreed, only to watch his father’s black eyebrow rise in challenge. Harry blew a short breath out his nostrils and hunched his shoulders up around his ears. He studied his father’s black waistcoat. “Less than twelve hours ago, I almost became Voldemort’s eternal companion. I think I’ve got a bit of a right to be tetchy.”

His father made a funny noise but when Harry looked up swiftly, Severus was perfectly composed. “You do,” he agreed. “I would prefer not to be the target of your tetchiness, however.”

Deciding it would be far easier to accede his father’s point, than to argue that Severus’ current irritability could stand to be pointed in a different direction, Harry nodded. Severus continued to study him for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for something, but before Harry could offer an apology, Severus inquired, “I presume you still wish to discuss my failure to sleep?” The question was slightly sarcastic and Harry bristled, but he nodded.

“Why didn’t you sleep?” he asked, trying to keep the agitation from his voice. The more Harry watched his father’s reactions, the more overly irritated Severus seemed—with Remus, with Pomfrey and even with him. More than irritated really…his father seemed angry with him.

“I already told you that I was brewing,” Severus told him. The words were rather stilted and Harry tensed again, his fingers splaying against the mattress.

“What were you brewing?” he asked, trying and largely succeeding in keeping his voice neutral. What the hell kind of potion could have been so important? Again, Severus looked away.

“I am working on a new formulation for the Wolfsbane,” he answered.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “For Remus?” he asked quickly. Severus’ chin bobbed once, his chin coming to meet his chest; he was still staring off to the side and Harry could only assume his father was uncomfortable with the admission. So Harry ignored it for now. His fingers wound themselves in his lap as he asked carefully, “But that could have waited until morning…couldn’t it?”

Severus nodded, still looking toward the windows. “It could have,” he agreed without inflection. Harry sighed, thoroughly regretting their earlier exchange now and wondering why his father was still so angry about it.

He leaned forward, and did his best to keep his tone perfectly respectful. “I didn’t mean to make you so angry…I’m sorry I was rude,” he offered quietly. Severus turned abruptly to him, his eyes widening a bit as he took in Harry’s nervous form.

“I am not angry,” Severus denied, his voice full of disquiet. Harry stared at him.

“You’re not?” he echoed. “But…oh.”

Harry didn’t really know what else to say. He didn’t really want to tell his father that he had been snappish since they’d been accosted by the reporters in the cemetery. Severus had, in fact, been downright cranky. Harry doubted, however, that such a classification would please his father.

Severus sighed. It was a heavy sound, full of exhaustion and Harry felt his face crumpling in concern. “Do you know why I punished you after you brawled with Pinth?”

Harry blinked at the unexpected question.

And with a new nervousness at the implication, he answered tentatively, “Erm…because I brawled with someone?”

But his father shook his head. “I would have preferred to leave the matter closed as soon as we finished discussing it.”

Harry stared at his father with bewildered eyes. Severus continued, “I did not allow Minerva to set your punishment.” Harry nodded, still befuddled. He had noticed…

“I missed almost every step in your life; every milestone was lost.” Severus' voice was growing quieter and Harry didn’t know how to respond because he had no idea what his father was trying to say. “Iincluding the first time you were disciplined…”

Harry had to clamp his teeth together to keep his mouth from falling open. “So you were just trying to make up for missing out on that?” he asked incredulously.

His father smiled, his face filled with humor this time. “No,” he corrected gently, “I was attempting to give you a sense of normalcy. I wanted you to experience all that it means to be someone’s son…to be my son. And I wanted to be your father, instead of your professor.”

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the emotions the short speech had brought forth. He didn’t really want to invite his father to reinstate his punishment, nor did he want to thank the man for grounding him in the first place. But he felt compelled to say something. Before he could, however, Severus continued, “I do not have an example to follow when I attempt to act as your father-”

“You’re not acting as my father,” Harry interrupted immediately. “You are my father,” he told Severus with a fierceness that was, by now, quite automatic.

Severus inclined his head in acceptance before continuing, “As I am experiencing a fair amount of anxiety surrounding recent events, I have been harsher toward you than I am comfortable with.” The black eyes warmed and Harry felt, all of a sudden, very loved by his father. “I do apologize for being brusque with you, Harry,” Severus added.

Harry blinked rapidly to dispel the emotions that were gathering in his eyes. "It's all right," he murmured. 

He looked away as he was weighted down with self-consciousness, but his father apparently had had enough of the distance between them. He caught Harry’s chin in his rough fingers and brought his face forward again. “It is not all right," he disagreed.  "There is nothing to stop us now from simply being father and son.  I am still learning what that means…as are you,” he added pointedly. Harry nodded and as his chin was still captured, it was rather difficult, but he understood what his father meant. “Our relationship will never be typical, and somehow, Harry,” Severus said very softly, “I find that I do not mind at all.”

Harry understood that as well. After all, how many sixteen year olds at Hogwarts would opt to live with their parent when they could be much more independent in the dorms with their friends? Even after rowing with his father, Harry hadn’t once considered leaving. They were what they were and Harry was content. He realized he might decide to go back to the tower eventually, but even that wouldn’t change their relationship. They’d been through too much to ever be too normal.

“I don’t mind either,” he agreed. Severus narrowed his eyes as he nodded.  He looked about to say more, but with a tiny shake of his head, he pulled his fingers from Harry’s chin.  The conversation seemed unfinished somehow, but Harry was currently basking in the feeling of cozy warmth from his father’s storm, so he really didn’t mind.  Feeling the phantom pressure of his father’s reassuring hold, Harry asked hesitantly, “Will you tell me why you didn’t sleep last night?”

Severus considered him briefly before nodding. “The small amount of time I was asleep last night was disturbed by dreams,” he admitted quietly.  His voice was so rough it made Harry’s insides squirm painfully.

“You had a nightmare?” he inquired softly. Severus didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. The turmoil in his eyes was enough. “What did you dream about?” Harry asked, hoping the question wouldn’t set off the snappishness again. But there was only naked pain in his father’s face.

“Voldemort, succeeding.”

Harry swallowed past the burgeoning knot. He remembered it. Remembered Voldemort tearing him apart…being dragged into the icy depths of darkness. But his father had stopped it. Had pulled him back. And Harry hadn’t even given any thought to how terrified his dad must have been in that eternal instant. “I’m sorry. I should have realized,” Harry said thickly. Severus’ lip lifted a little; the gesture was distinctly sad.

“You could not know my sleep would be interrupted in such a way,” he told him, but Harry shook his head.

“No, but I should have recognized that you’d be upset over what happened with Voldemort...how close he came to winning...”

The words came too easily and Severus’ face paled a little but he otherwise did not react. “It is not part of your role as my son to concern yourself with my well-being,” he said in perfect seriousness, as though he’d read the phrase in a book. Harry almost rolled his eyes.

“Of course it is,” he disagreed. Severus opened his mouth to argue, but Harry scooted forward on the bed, his eyes intense. “Who else is going to worry over you if I don’t?” He smiled when his dad had no answer; Severus gazed at Harry with confused eyes. “You take care of me,” Harry explained with a shrug. “I can take care of you as well.”

His father arched an authoritative brow, but Harry knew it was done to cover the emotions Harry’s simple statement had elicited. “I suggest you find a method other than the one you used earlier, if you wish me to accept any of your further attempts to take care of me,” he drawled.  His eyes lit with hushed amusement when Harry gave in to his urge to thrust his eyes heavenward.

“All right,” Harry agreed easily when his gaze resettled on his father, “but you need to tell me such details as ‘I couldn’t sleep due to nightmares’, so I don’t have to shout at you to get you to listen.” He was ready when his father narrowed his eyes. Harry offered Severus an innocent smile. “Well, I wouldn’t have had to if you’d just told me why you didn’t sleep,” he explained, keeping his tone as serious as he could. When his father continued to stare at him, Harry shrugged. “You told me you prefer me insolent.”

The narrowed eyes sparked with unconcealed mirth. “A grave mistake,” Severus concluded.

Harry grinned and hopped off the hospital bed, feeling suddenly energized. “Can you believe Remus is getting married?” he asked as they turned toward the Floo.

“Ms. Tonks has proposed a dozen times, Harry,” Severus returned lightly as they stepped in the fireplace. Harry stared at his father’s twitching lips before they were swallowed up.

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.

1981

James slid into his usual seat at the large table. Sirius slid in beside him, winking at the pretty new Auror down the table. Her cheeks filled with a pink blush at the overt flirtation before she quickly looked down at the finely-grained wood.

“She’s engaged,” James whispered, using his elbow to nudge his friend in the ribs when Sirius didn’t turn his gaze from the girl. Sirius didn’t pay any attention. The young Auror, Mimsy was her name, James remembered, peeked through her eyelashes once, and quickly looked down again, the pink blossoming into red.

“Sirius,” Remus scolded in a low voice from his other side. Sirius drew his eyes from the girl, turning to grin at Remus.

“Just admiring,” he defended himself. Remus simply shook his head and turned back to the head of the table, to wait for Albus to speak. Sirius turned to James, still grinning. James rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way, playfully letting his best friend know he thought him an idiot.

“Well, not all of us have the treat of Lily waiting at home,” Sirius exclaimed in a whisper, waggling his eyebrows a little.

James did his best not to laugh. Lily was indeed waiting at home, likely with a squirming toddler, who was probably doing his best to avoid a bedtime routine without Daddy. James didn’t respond to Sirius though as the laughter died in his throat at the thought of Severus. Severus was with Voldemort, in a circle of Death Eaters, and each night he spent with Voldemort lately, had been progressively worse. Voldemort was becoming stronger—and angrier--as he was continually thwarted.

“You all right, Prongs?” Sirius leaned in to murmur, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. James nodded mutely as Albus cleared his throat; both men turned their eyes to the elder wizard.

Before he could begin, an almost silent pop that somehow sounded strangled sounded from behind them. All heads swiveled toward the entrance to the large dining room. With a muffled cry, James shot to his feet. Severus was stumbling blindly into the room, his eyes swollen shut. Forgetting all they were supposed to be hiding, James went to him, reaching him as his friend began to sway.

“Severus,” he breathed anxiously, grabbing him under his armpits to steady the other man before he could fall. Severus’ hands gripped at his shirt, clutching the fabric spasmodically in his fingers. Fingers covered in someone else’s sticky blood.

“James,” he whispered before he pitched forward into James’ chest.

Circling his arms around his friend’s back, James, as gently as he could, sank to his knees, cradling Severus’ dark head in his lap as he sat back on his heels. Blunt, the Order Healer, had already knelt and Albus was only seconds behind. James’ heart thudded in his chest as he willed Severus to open his eyes.

Blunt ran her wand over the length of the Potions Master form, while her free hand carefully touched the puffy skin around his eyes. “It is a simple Muggle irritant,” she announced even as she chanted a spell to reduce the swelling; it began to recede almost immediately. “Ennervate,” Blunt commanded.

Severus began to stir in James’ lap. He tried without success to open his eyes. “Muggles,” he tried to explain as he struggled with his muscles. He brought the blood-stained fingers upward as though he was trying to tell them something.

“What is it, Severus?” Albus asked gently. “What happened?”

“Tillwood,” Severus told them gruffly as he shook his hands with more insistence.

“That’s a Muggle village,” the pretty new Auror spoke up. She’d moved to stand with everybody else, close now to the hunched quartet on the floor. Albus spared her the smallest glance before leaning closer to Severus’ now-mildly swollen face.

“He took his Death Eaters there tonight?” he questioned in a soft voice.

When Severus nodded, Sirius exploded from above James, “We have to get them out of there!”

Albus silenced him with a hand. “Dedalus and Benjy,” he commanded. The two wizards moved forward. Albus gave Severus’ bloodied fingers a squeeze before rising. “Benjy, you’ll need to side-along with Dedalus. I believe you know the way, Dedalus?” he queried.

“I do,” the little wizard confirmed squeakily.

“I have to get back there,” Severus insisted hoarsely as he tried to sit up; his eyes were nearly clear again and he was rapidly regaining his strength, though not quickly enough to satisfy James. James held his arms firmly, refusing to allow the other man to sit up. “Let me up, Potter,” Severus snapped, his black eyes flashing as much as they could with the slight cloudiness. James simply glared back at him.

“Not until Healer Blunt says you can move,” he snapped back. “So just be still.”

Severus opened his mouth to argue, but Blunt interrupted, “You can let him up, James.” James stared at her, but she nodded firmly. “Carefully, Severus,” she instructed as James loosened his hold. Not caring that Severus would try to refuse his help, nor that his other two friends were staring at him as though he’d lost his mind, James guided Severus to sit. And then James was standing again, and without waiting for Severus to accept, he pulled the Slytherin up as well.

Severus glared at him again and even though James knew it was for the others, he felt an odd sensation in his gut at the ugly look in his friend’s eyes.

“Take these with you, Severus…Portkeys” Albus said quietly, handing Severus several coins. Severus nodded curtly, as he pocketed the coins and straightened his dirtied robes. Albus put a restraining hand on his arm as he cast his strongest Disillusionment Charm on Severus' two companions. Severus glowered at them until they were invisible and then, without another word, he turned unsteadily on the spot and was gone.

James rounded on Blunt and the Headmaster. “How could you let him go back there? He was barely standing,” he demanded, his voice much louder than he wanted it to be. Sirius and Remus were staring at him, completely dumbfounded. The others in the room didn’t seem any less befuddled.

“James,” Albus said gently, “we can’t let innocent Muggles die.”

“He didn’t need to go back there. He might die instead!” James retorted furiously. “Hasn’t he done enough already?” he asked angrily. His mouth clamped shut at the slight widening of the old blue eyes…a silent warning. Dammit, James swore silently to himself. There was too much at stake and too much for Severus to lose. Dammit.

Albus gazed at him for a long moment before gesturing the others in the room to follow him through to the kitchen. To give him a moment to collect himself, James knew. But it would do little good, as Remus and Sirius remained.

“He’ll be fine, James,” Remus spoke up, his voice very soft.

“It was just two swollen eyes, Prongs and Blunt fixed him,” Sirius agreed with a shrug, though his lip was twisting into a half-grimace, as though it pained him to console James about Snape's well-being.

James said nothing; he turned toward the sitting room, intending to Floo back home.

“Since when do you twist your knickers into a wad over Snape?” Sirius asked, the curiosity overshadowed by the clear irritation.

Though he didn’t trust himself to speak, James tossed over his shoulder, “I don’t.”

“He called you James.”

The accusation in Sirius’ voice halted James’ exit, but he didn’t turn around.

“Sirius, he’s lived in James’ house for almost two years. You can’t really expect them to be continuously snarling at one another. Not with Lily and Harry-”

Sirius waved Remus’ reassurances away with an impatient hand. “This is Snape we’re talking about, James. Snape,” he stressed. And had he not been as close to Sirius as any brothers, James would not have heard the jealously masked far below the surface of the complaint. He didn’t let the sigh escape as he turned slowly to face his friend.

“I know that Padfoot, all right? Lily will be worried about him,” he explained, hating himself for the half-truth, but then he wished he hadn’t said that either, as Sirius’ grey eyes flashed in indignation.

“I’ve told you all along, James, that it was a horrid idea to allow Snape to live there with you,” he reminded him darkly. “Someone who who used to date your wife?”

“And I’ve told you before, Sirius,” James pointed out with restrained frustration, “that they’ve simply been friends for years.” Another lie. “And you know damn well Lily would never betray me like that,” he added, flinching as more half-truths tumbled out of his mouth.

“It’s Snape I don’t trust,” Sirius retorted.

“No one’s asking you to trust him,” James all but growled and Sirius snorted.

“Albus expects us to trust him every time he goes to that Bastard. Every time he comes back and feeds us information.”

“Feeds us information?” James nearly hissed, stepping closer to his friend, and wishing as he did that he had Severus’ skill in Occlusion. “For a year and a half now, Snape has been a spy for Albus, and not once has he ever failed us and still you don’t trust him?” he asked angrily.

“No,” Sirius shot back. “And I can’t believe you do either. For seven years, James, you hated Snape, and now that he’s spent some time in your spare bedroom, he’s suddenly your best mate?”

“Sirius, calm down,” Remus tried to interject, but James spoke over him.

“He’s not my best mate, you git,” he retorted, giving the taller man a none-too gentle shove in the chest. But even as he said it, he realized it wasn’t precisely true. Perhaps not his best mate…not the way mates were usually counted anyway.

Sirius glared as Remus caught him before he stumbled too far backward. “Could have fooled me,” the Animagus muttered as he straightened up, making no move to retaliate as he ran a hand down the front of his shirt to straighten it.

“Oh, quit being a prat,” James ordered, returning his friend’s glare. “And we’re not seventeen anymore,” he pointed out, making his voice a bit milder.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we’re a whole three years older than that and you’ve grown up so much that you’re practically falling all over yourself just to make certain Snivellus doesn’t fall on his arse,” he said with a hint of smile, obviously willing to forego any more arguing.

James bristled at the word he only now realized had hurt Severus so deeply, but he tried not to let it show, as he asked seriously, “Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be calling someone by a detested childhood nickname?”

And he recognized too late that he shouldn’t have said that either as Sirius drew himself up, instantly stung by the accusation. “I’m sorry I can’t be as mature as Snape,” he said stiffly.

James narrowed his eyes, tired of the volleying. “So am I, Padfoot,” he retorted. “If you could grow up a little and open your eyes, you’d see that he’s not simply a Slytherin Snake-”

And again, it was the wrong thing to say. Sirius’ normally gentle grey eyes blazed. He took a step toward his friend. “But he is a Slytherin, and that should be enough for you to realize that he can’t be trusted. That he’d betray anyone—anything if it’s to his advantage.” James opened his mouth, but Sirius, his mouth twisted in an unfamiliar scowl, continued to rage, “That’s what he is. A liar and a schemer. There hasn’t been a Slytherin who could be trusted, James. Not one—not even my own-”

And he broke off, gasping in a huge rush of air as he turned himself away from his two friends, his eyes suddenly dark and filled with pain. The trio was silent as James and Remus eyed one another and then turned to stare at Sirius’ hunched back. He had curled into himself, in an unconscious effort to protect himself from so many old wounds.

Remus gave James an encouraging nod and with his emotions bouncing all over the place, James stepped forward and laid a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder blade. Sirius didn’t move away.

“Look, Sirius,” James began quietly. “I don’t want to row with you about Snape. And I know, especially at a time like this, that it’s not easy to trust him.” Sirius’ back slowly straightened, his arms moving again to his sides, though they were balled into fists of agitation. James struggled to continue; he desperately wanted Sirius to understand.

But before he could decide how best to accomplish it, Remus put in from next to him, “He went back there to save Muggles, Sirius. He’s risking his life to save people Voldemort would kill with one flick of his wrist…after he finished torturing them.”

Sirius stiffened at Remus’ endorsement. He turned to face them. “Both of you now?” he asked quietly, his words heavy with disappointment.

“Padfoot…” James tried, putting a pressure that was meant to be comforting on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius shook off the hand. “He’s a Slytherin,” he repeated, as though that’s all that needed to be said. And giving Sirius’ history, it was. Without waiting for a response from his two reticent friends, Sirius brushed his hair out of his face and went to join the rest of the Order in the kitchen.

James watched him go, berating himself for allowing the destructive lies to continue on for so long.

xxxxx

1996

Harry pulled the edges of his school robes close around his body as he and Severus stepped into the dark corridor. His eyes adjusted slowly as they moved forward into the dimness, lit only by sparse sconces flickering dull shadows against the walls.

“I was thinking about last night,” Harry said casually as they began the slow, upward trek through the dungeons. Severus glanced over at him sharply, but Harry shook his head. “Not about Voldemort,” he amended and Severus relaxed again, nodding his head for Harry to continue. “I was wondering what you meant…what you said to Lucius about Mum forgiving you.”

Severus didn’t pause in his momentum though Harry was fairly certain his father’s stride faltered briefly. “It was after that afternoon—the one you witnessed in my Pensieve,” he explained, his steps perfectly fluid again. “I apologized for what I’d said to her. It took some time, but she did eventually forgive me.”

Mudblood.

Harry only nodded, feeling his insides squirming at the vague pain he could both feel and hear in his father’s voice. And the gratitude.

“It was only due to her acceptance that I found my way out of the darkness I was mired in,” Severus went on, almost to himself this time. Harry glanced over at him; he wanted to ask what he meant, but he wasn’t certain he could.

“Because she forgave you, you mean?” he ventured cautiously. Severus’ eyes slid toward him at they continued to walk.

“Harry…” he began, his voice calm on the surface. But then he shook his head, and when he began again, his voice had changed a little. “I was groomed to become my father’s son from the day I was conceived. He was fascinated with the Dark Arts my entire life and as Voldemort grew more powerful and gained more support, Tobias wanted nothing more for himself than to be in Voldemort’s inner circle.”

“And he wanted it for you as well,” Harry nodded, remembering Dumbledore’s words, though they seemed so long ago.

“He taught me everything I would need to know to become a faithful worshiper,” Severus explained as he ran his fingers down the side of his face, in remembrance of something only he could see. He flicked his fingers, as if to dispel the memories and went on, “I wanted more than anything, as most children do, to make my father proud of me, and so I studied. Fervently,” he stressed, a dark shame clouding his voice. “Lily’s compassion toward me healed the perilous need I had to please my father. My desperation to finally win his approval.” He shook his head again, but this time his eyes shone with love, which Harry understood was for Lily.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that with Tobias,” Harry offered and again his father’s eyes flashed to him. It almost seemed like he had forgotten Harry was even there.

“He has been dead for nearly eighteen years. It makes little sense to dwell on what is past,” Severus stated, and he sounded apologetic. Harry didn’t respond as the corridors began to grow brighter. They’d almost reached the lowest level classrooms as he asked curiously, “Is your mother still alive?”

For the second time since they’d left their quarters, Harry wondered at the way his father’s steps seemed to falter. When Severus spoke, his voice was strangely smooth. “She is in St. Mungo’s,” he answered.

“What’s wrong with her?” Harry questioned as they passed Severus’ classroom.

“She has an incurable wizard’s illness,” Severus replied without hesitation.

“Oh,” said Harry quietly as he took that in. “I’m sorry.”

His father halted in front of a closed classroom door, and Harry stopped walking as well, tilting his face up a bit to study the incredulous look on the man’s face. “Eileen threatened to kill you and forced your mother to lie to me,” Severus reminded him, looking like he was wondering if Harry had taken complete leave of his senses. And as though Harry could ever forget.

“I know,” he nodded. “And I know she was horrid to you, but she’s still your mother,” he shrugged. “The Dursleys were wretched to me, but I wouldn’t want them to have an incurable disease.”

Severus narrowed his eyes as he stared down at his son. “Just how wretched were the Dursleys?” he inquired darkly, ignoring Harry’s other comments.

Harry gazed at his father warily. “You already asked me about them,” he pointed out, which made Severus scowl.

“And as I recall, you did your best to avoid the question, just as you are attempting to do now.”

Harry’s feet shifted silently against the stones; he glanced down the hall, but there was nothing to distract them.

“He didn’t beat me,” he answered, unconsciously echoing his father’s earlier words about Lucius as he stared down the empty corridor. “They didn’t like to touch me.”

“Did he ever cause you physical pain?”

Harry turned again at the brittle question. It seemed his father was beginning to have difficulty breathing.

“He threatened me…loads of times. But he only hit me once,” Harry explained, finding it easier to do so with his father’s features as expressionless as they were…if he ignored the slight quiver to the man’s normally stoic jaw. “I suppose the damage to him, and to the parlour, wasn’t worth it,” Harry murmured, studying the blank walls again.

The air seemed thin between them.

“Harry…” The sand-papered words reached outward even as they curled and faded away.

Harry allowed his father’s fingers to find purchase on his shoulder. He even took a step closer at the tugging pressure, but he shook his head as he found the pain-filled eyes. “I’m all right,” he assured the man gently. “And, it’s not your fault,” he added, knowing where his father’s mind was spinning. “You didn’t make them hate me.”

The trembling ceased as Severus pushed his teeth together. “If I-”

Harry grasped his father’s arm, squeezing it tightly. “Don’t do that,” he ordered softly. “We’ve…” and then he had to stop talking at the haunted look that crossed his father’s eyes and he instantly wished he could rap his own head a few times against the very hard stone wall. He’d never actually considered himself self-absorbed, but it was almost impossible not to accept that’s exactly what he was.

How could he have been so daft? No wonder the man was so edgy. And it wasn’t just about Harry almost being lost to Voldemort…

“I’m all right,” he repeated. When Severus’ black eyes didn’t even blink, Harry allowed his flames to project his sincerity. He was all right now, and then just to be clear, Harry told him, “Voldemort’s taunting didn’t make me feel any differently about you. It couldn’t.”

There.

The shadows receded a little, though Harry knew it would take more than that simple statement for his father to allow the guilt to subside.

“Come on,” Harry encouraged, giving his father’s arm a bit of a tug. “I know you don’t want to miss lunch,” he teased with a smirk.

“I am more concerned about our after-lunch meeting,” Severus told him with a frown and Harry, relieved at the easy change in subject, shrugged.

“You said Scrimgeour will be fawning all over me, didn’t you?” Harry reminded him. “Nothing to worry about,” he said airily, though he felt little but anxiety about the entire prospect.

Severus frowned at him. “Rufus Scrimgeour is a skilled manipulator,” he informed Harry. Harry smiled sideways as they started walking again.

“So are you.”

Severus’ lips pressed together, but he did not disagree. They rounded the last corner of the weathered wall before the man level, and they heard the accented suggestion, “Try to keep out of trouble, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco was being shepherded out of an empty classroom by Shacklebolt and Farnsworth. The blonde boy nodded obediently, actually looking like he might mean it for once. He turned, his hands moving to straighten his perfectly creased robes. He froze as he found himself staring at Harry and Severus.

Fear pierced the grey eyes.

Draco’s feet seemed to move without his permission as he shuffled backward and into Shacklebolt’s long torso. His shoulders hunched up, as though he was expecting a blow. And he wasn’t looking at Harry.

Harry paused, having no idea why he would, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything to the blond Slytherin. His father very firmly took his elbow and steered him away from Draco and his escorts. Harry glanced up at his father and wisely didn’t protest. The man looked positively grim and Harry felt a particularly nervous rush for Potions class tomorrow.

His elbow was finally freed after they were suitably distant from Draco. Just as they neared the enchanted staircase, Harry suddenly felt a huge knot in his stomach as he saw a clutch of students descending the stairs. The leader of the group screeched to an abrupt halt and, with their mouths falling open, his companions toppled into him.

And then the pointing and whispering began. The grins and giggles.

The group began to move eagerly toward him, but Severus kept walking, and wasting no time, Harry hurried to keep up. His father’s efforts were pointless. The Great Hall was already teeming with students, all of them standing and craning their necks toward the corridor. They were expecting him.

And then Harry saw why.

Scrimgeour was standing next to Dumbledore in front of the head table, his own eyes eagerly scanning for Harry. His face melted into a practiced smile as Harry and Severus stepped over the threshold. “I thought he wasn’t coming until after lunch,” Harry whispered indignantly, to which his father offered no reply. It would have been lost in the ensuing noise anyway.

As they continued forward, a huge cheer rose up among the students, even the staff seemed to be roaring behind the head table. When the thundering of stamping feet joined the deafening congratulations, Harry couldn’t help it…a slow smile began to spread across his face. It was like the last match of the Quidditch Match. The one for the cup. And Harry had caught the Snitch. A great big, ugly Snitch in a serpent’s body, but the emotion was the same.

Euphoria.

--

Severus was hard-pressed not to begin tossing out hexes as students from all across the Great Hall began converging on his son. He planted himself firmly behind Harry, ready to strike if there were any of Voldemort’s sympathizers, unaccounted for, in the crowd.

And then Severus was hit with a wave of elation that made him fight not to stagger back. He quickly shadowed his flame, glancing quickly up at the Head Table. Lupin was staring at Harry with a strange look on his face. He was smiling in confusion. And Severus could only surmise that Harry was smiling as well now.

The voices babbling all around them, distracted Severus’ musing on his son’s sudden mood shift, and he realized he could not even understand the blathering. But the students were pressing closer toward them as though they all wished they could be close enough to touch Harry. Or to ask brainless questions about Voldemort. But no one actually came close enough to make contact. It seemed that none of them quite trusted the Potions Master not to hex them.

Wise.

Severus trained his darkest glare toward the other end of the room, toward Albus. Albus, his face scrawled with apology, nodded quickly, and placing his wand against his throat, he chanted a Sonorus. “Your attention.” His voice echoed around the cavernous room; the chattering ceased. Albus smiled as he removed the wand from over his windpipe. “If you would be seated, boys and girls, I’m sure Harry and Professor Snape would like to sit down and have a chance to catch their breaths,” he said in his normal voice, which carried almost as well as the enhanced one had.

With many parting words that Severus did his best to ignore, some of them using Snape as a question mark, the students wended their way back to their benches. Severus moved with Harry as he went straight to his Gryffindor house mates. Harry plopped down in his regular spot on the bench amidst a sea of friendly hands clapping him all over his back and arms; Severus continued on to the Head Table.

Scrimgeour was still smiling on the dais.

Before the Minister could make any moves toward Harry, Albus ushered him over to where Percy Weasley and two witches were waiting near the staff entrance. Scrimgeour shook his head forcefully, glancing back toward Harry. Severus took two steps toward the older man, but out of nowhere, Poppy seemed to materialize. She came to stand in front of the Minister, her eyes holding his without hesitation.

“I’m afraid Harry cannot be interrupted during mealtimes, Minister,” she told him, her voice calm and steady, though even Severus would have had second thoughts about arguing with her. “He needs to keep up his strength after what he did for us last night. I’m sure you understand.” She smiled encouragingly at him and after glancing once more at Harry, Scrimgeour smiled congenially and allowed Albus to lead him to a place beside his at the table.

Poppy accepted Severus’ nod of appreciation with a warm smile and went back to her seat. All along the staff table, as Severus walked to his own seat, his colleagues offered him hearty congratulations, which Severus accepted without a word. He hoped this would be the last time they would mention it, though he knew it was extremely unlikely.

“Thank you for letting me know about Harry,” Lupin said quietly as Severus sat beside him. Severus simply inclined his head as he watched his son. Students from all around Harry were leaning in toward him, presumably still pestering him with questions. But to Severus’ puzzlement, Harry didn’t seem to mind at all. And although, he’d sequestered Harry’s wisp, his son’s excitement was still very much present in Severus’ mind.

“Harry doesn’t seem to be having any problem with all the attention,” Remus observed, sounding at least as perplexed as Severus was.

“Harry is well used to attention from his peers,” Minerva spoke up from Severus’ other side. “Granted,” she added with a small frown, “it is often negative attention.”

Severus frowned at the observation before turning to survey the room, taking in the dejected features of most of his upper classmen. The younger Slytherins seemed just as eager as the other Houses to gawk at Harry. Draco, Severus noted, was seated next Zabini and the remaining sixth and seventh years, with the exception of Pinth, who was sitting conspicuously alone at the very end of the long table.

Severus wondered if his Slytherins had finally taken heed of his repeated lessons in self-preservation. Pinth would certainly not be anywhere near Harry’s good graces. And Severus found himself vaguely relieved that none of the Slytherins had been found to have ulterior motives regarding Harry—they’d been, after Harry’s friends, the first to be subjected to Veritaserum.

“Did you see the Prophet, Severus?” Lupin asked. Severus drew his gaze from his Slytherin students. A copy of the infamous newspaper was fanned across the table.

--

“You must have been so frightened,” a rapt Lavender Brown gushed as she leaned across the table.

“Of course he wasn’t,” Colin scoffed from down the table. “He’s a Gryffindor.” He puffed his chest out as though he’d been the one using his prided courage to meet Voldemort.

Harry opened his mouth to correct the over-exuberant fifth year, but a Hufflepuff from the neighboring table, grabbed his sleeve. Harry turned slightly to find a blonde girl, surrounded by a cluster of friends, smiling at him. “Can I have your autograph?” she asked shyly, thrusting a small leather-bound book at his chest.

“My autograph?” he repeated, staring at the girl and her tittering friends.

“Can you sign it Harry Potter?” one of the girl’s friends asked in a husky voice. “Your real name,” she clarified, as her blue eyes widened.

“Erm…” was all Harry could come up with.

“Snape is his real name, Elizabeth,” Ginny informed the bold girl tersely. The other girl slid her eyes toward Ginny, her gaze assessing.

“Well, if that's your name from now on, Harry, that’ll do,” Elizabeth agreed, smiling at Harry now. They were all smiling at him. Harry could feel the tips of his ears burning. He grabbed the book hastily from the blonde girl’s fingers and scrawled his name without even looking at the page, and then handed it clumsily back to her. She smiled shyly again.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

“Er, you’re welcome,” he stuttered before spinning back around.

“Did you see the Prophet, Harry?” Seamus inquired as soon as Harry was facing forward again, ignoring Harry’s flush. “It’s all about your new name.”

“Seamus, Harry doesn’t want to see that,” Hermione interjected as Seamus tried to hand a copy to Harry.

But it was with morbid curiosity that Harry accepted the newspaper, telling Hermione, “It’s all right.”

Harry Potter Proclaims Himself a Snape, Denying the Father Who Died for Him was the headline, above a doctored photograph of a distraught Harry in front of Lily’s and James’ grave. Next to that was a picture of the Mark, burning black against a pale forearm. Harry’s eyes flicked in astonishment to his father. Severus was watching him.

Of course that couldn’t be Severus’ arm, but it hardly mattered. Rage seethed as Harry realized just how much his father was going to suffer throughout this. He ripped his gaze from the Head Table and scrunched the delicate sheets in his fists.

There is a reporter here. The quiet warning startled Harry; his eyes went back to the Head Table. Both his father and Remus were looking at him with a fair amount of concern. Taking a breath, Harry forced himself to calm. When his fingers uncurled, he gave the adults a small smile. A smile and nod were returned.

“Dammit,” Harry muttered as he picked up his pumpkin juice and took a large swig. Ginny laid her fingers over his; Harry barely noticed they were there as he glared at the photographs splayed out in front of him.

--

Extracting himself from his doting fans proved much simpler for Severus than for Harry. Harry had attempted to excuse himself multiple times, but had ended up being pulled back with a question each time. When the hour drew near for them to be in Dumbledore’s office, Severus finally swooped down on the overcrowded Gryffindor table and with one sweeping glare, Harry’s admirers backed away and Harry, with a wave to his friends, made a somewhat reluctant exit.

He was still irked by Skeeter’s article though and as soon as he and his father cleared the Great Hall, Harry said as much.

Aiming several glowers at eager passersby, Severus said seriously, “She will not write another article.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Blackmail?” he wondered, but his father didn’t answer as they stopped in front of Dumbledore’s gargoyle.

“Marshmallow Figs,” he drawled and with a small smile, Harry stepped beside his father and spun up to Dumbledore’s office.

Scrimgeour’s lips lifted in an elegant smile as Harry and Severus stepped inside. The Minister’s hand made a smooth transition from his side to Harry’s palm. Harry wasn’t even certain how it had happened, but Scrimgeour was pumping his arm up and down roughly. When he let go, Harry wiggled his fingers a bit, working the circulation back into the digits.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Harry,” he said, his face suffused with gratitude. Harry simply nodded, noting for the first time that Percy, along with a witch who was obviously the reporter, was standing to the Minister's side. The reporter's quill was poised over a small pad. A younger witch, with jumpy features, and a camera was standing nervously behind the reporter.

“There will be no reporters,” Severus announced severely as his eyes swept over the little group. Scrimgeour turned his smile to Severus.

“I always bring our Ministry correspondent with me when I meet with someone of such importance as Harry,” he explained, sounding perfectly affable. Harry could feel his father’s irritation at the officious Minister and with a little effort his directed his tiny wisp to assure him, It’s all right. I don’t mind. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and a long argument about reporters wouldn’t accomplish that.

After a short pause, Severus told the Minister, “She may remain.” Scrimgeour smiled, looking rather pleased with himself, but Severus wasn’t finished. “You will not, however, print any articles or photographs regarding this meeting without my approval.” Scrimgeour opened his mouth to protest, but Severus said firmly, “You will agree or this meeting ends here.”

“Professor,” the Minister began smoothly, “surely Harry doesn’t believe I would allow anything derogatory to be printed about him.” He turned to Harry. “You’ll trust Anne to write a complimentary article, won’t you, Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer, not liking the man’s oily tone. He watched warily as his father narrowed his coal eyes. “Harry is sixteen, Minister. I do not trust you and I will not allow you to manipulate him, nor will I allow your reporter to use my son to further your own political agendas.”

Scrimgeour looked between father and son, his eyes full of subtle calculation. Finally he smiled again. “Your concern is unfounded, I assure you, Professor Snape, but if you insist, I will agree to your terms.”

“I trust you realize that any plans you wish to make regarding ceremonies or appearances with my son will not commence should you fail to keep your word,” Severus informed him, his voice deepening with the threat. Scrimgeour betrayed no surprise at the tone.

“Of course, Professor,” he nodded, though Harry thought his voice sounded a little stiffer than it had when they’d first come in.

Without further ado, Scrimgeour gestured to a group of chairs arranged in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Harry took the seat closest to the large desk. The Minister sat across from him, his smile looking forced now. Severus sat beside Harry, leaving the open chair for Dumbledore, while Scrimgeour’s party clustered behind him.

They all waited while Scrimgeour arranged his robes around him importantly. He cleared his throat before beginning, “As I said last night, Harry, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to you, on behalf of all of us.”

“I couldn’t have done it without my father,” Harry told him pointedly. The Minister smiled indulgently.

“Of course, Harry. It was fortuitous that you were able to use his Mark,” he agreed, though that wasn’t what Harry had meant at all.

“It’s not his Mark,” Harry corrected. “It’s Voldemort’s and my father took it to protect my mum. And without him to chant the spell with me, Voldemort would still be alive,” he finished in a hard tone, ignoring his father’s clear wish that he didn’t want to put emphasis on what he’d done, but Harry couldn’t let it slide. Not after that article.

“We are indeed grateful to Professor Snape as well, Harry. No one will deny he had a role to play,” Scrimgeour nodded.

Harry narrowed his eyes, disliking the insinuation in the Minister’s words.

“But wizarding Britain wants to see you, Harry. They want to hear you tell them what you did for us. All of us owe you a great debt,” he said fervently and Harry realized that Scrimgeour meant none of what he was saying. The words were laced with insincerity, so Harry said nothing. Scrimgeour didn’t even seem to notice his lack of response. “We’d like to have a dinner, Harry, to honor you. The most influential witches and wizards will be in attendance, of course. It will certainly be in your best interest to meet as many of them as you can.”

“I am certain, Minister, that you have very little knowledge regarding the best interests of my son,” Severus interjected coldly, to which Scrimgeour blinked as though he’d forgotten Severus was there. He collected himself quickly.

“Of course not, Professor. I meant that only in the most general terms,” he agreed. Severus narrowed his eyes. Scrimgeour smiled again, and Harry wondered how stiff the muscles around his mouth would be after this meeting. “We would like to schedule the dinner for tomorrow evening. Albus has been kind enough to agree to allow you to miss classes on Friday so that you won’t have to be concerned about getting home to sleep—of course,” he amended swiftly at Severus' raised eyebrow, “whatever time you wish him to go home, we will understand, Professor.”

“If Harry is agrees, I have no objections,” Severus told him, not even pausing. Scrimgeour wasted no time in turning back to Harry.

“Harry?” he queried.

Inwardly Harry sighed, but he nodded. “All right.”

“Excellent,” the Minister approved. And then with a small nod at his reporter, he went on, “I heard that you went to visit your parents’ home this morning. Is that right, Harry?”

Harry frowned. Scrimgeour obviously didn’t need to ask. “Yes, we did. And we were very rudely interrupted by nosy reporters,” Harry told him, giving Anne a pointed glance. She smiled at him and wrote something on her little pad.

“Yes, I heard about that as well,” Scrimgeour said with a look of dismay. “Very bad manners,” he agreed. But then his smile returned. “Did the state of the house distress you?”

Harry stared at him. “Of course it did,” he told him, while shaking his head in mild disbelief. “It was destroyed by Death Eaters.”

“Oh, I know,” Scrimgeour nodded sadly, his eyes swimming with exaggerated sadness. “But, I’d like to fix that for you, Harry. Erase those terrible deeds.”

“What?” Harry asked, trying to keep up with the man and his erratic swings in both mood and conversation.

“We would like to erect a monument on the property, Harry,” Scrimgeour explained, looking very pleased at the prospect. “To allow our world to have a place to remember these times—to remember what you’ve done for us. We’ll have a magnificent dedicatory ceremony.”

Harry stared at the grizzled man. His was almost glassy-eyed with excitement. Imagining how much this would boost his approval ratings with the public, no doubt.

“You’ll have to ask my father,” Harry told him, causing the older man to frown. “The property belongs to him,” he pointed out.

Scrimgeour held a hand out to the side and Percy pressed a piece of parchment into it. Scrimgeour shook out the completely unwrinkled parchment and scanned it quickly. He looked up at Harry again. “The property is in your name—Harry Potter—handed down from your mother after her tragic death.”

“It’s Snape,” Harry corrected immediately. Scrimgeour smiled automatically.

“Ah yes,” he nodded. “I do remember reading about that in the papers this morning.” Harry couldn’t stop his eyebrow from rising in skeptical disbelief. Scrimgeour didn’t seem to notice. “I think it might be best, Harry, to continue to refer to you as Harry Potter. It is after all, the way you’ve been known for fifteen years. It’s the name everyone wants to see signed on their copies of that wonderful photo from this morning’s paper.”

“We’ve already signed the paperwork,” Harry told him, his irritation at the man curling his fingers into claws on the arms of his chair.

And again, Scrimgeour paid no attention to Harry’s mood. “Well, we needn’t do anything official to reverse it, of course, but you could certainly still use James Potter's last name,” he encouraged.

“No,” Harry said quietly as soon as the suggestion left Scrimgeour’s tongue. “Snape is my last name. Severus Snape is my father and Lily Evans was my mother. They were married and they loved each other. Voldemort destroyed all of it.” He was perfectly calm as he continued, ignoring the frown on the Minister’s face, “James Potter was a very brave and wonderful man, but I won’t act as though I’m ashamed of who I am. And I won’t hurt my dad that way. If you, and the rest of Britain, can’t accept that, then there’s really no need for all your ceremonies.”

Severus' pride was unmistakable as Scrimgeour stared, dumbfounded, at Harry. And Dumbledore’s smile was easily detectable through his bushy beard. Harry glowed with both responses, while he waited for the Minister to reply.

“Well...” he finally said, running a finger down the knitted pattern of gold on the front of his robes. “…I can certainly understand your perspective,” he told him. “And,” he added with a nod, “I know the rest of Britain will be able to make the change. You are after all, a hero.”

The last word seemed to stick to the roof of Scrimgeour’s mouth, and the two syllables had a little too much emphasis as they were thrown through his lips.

“Thank you for understanding, Minister,” Harry offered politely.

Scrimgeour nodded, his smile thin now. “Shall we go over the details of tomorrow’s festivities?” he inquired to Severus, his tone matching the state of his lips.

When Severus nodded, Percy stepped forward eagerly and beginning with Harry’s scripted entrance, he began rattling off the schedule for the night. Harry did his best not fidget too much as Percy’s fussy voice filled the office.

1981—only days before Lily’s lie.

James paced with heavy-footed steps in front of the fireplace. He could hear Lily singing to Harry as she re-settled him for the second time since James had returned from the meeting. The toddler always struggled on the nights that Severus wasn’t home. With a deep sigh, James glanced at the empty fireplace, as though by sheer force of will, he could make Severus appear.

Startled in spite of himself, James blinked as the Floo roared up in green flames at precisely the moment he had been wishing it would.

Severus’ face was ashen as he came through. James moved forward to wrap his arms around the other man’s back; Severus leaned against him, allowing James to assist him toward a chair. As soon as James released him, Severus sank into the depths of Lily’s squishy chair. James waved his wand, swiftly removing the Death Eater’s robes that Severus loathed.

Severus nodded at him, murmuring a quiet word of gratitude. James didn’t respond as he called for their house-elf. He asked the eager servant to bring Severus some tea. The elf complied and within another moment, James was handing a cup of the steaming tea to his friend. Severus didn’t drink; he simply stared down at the dark liquid with his eyes half-closed.

Not wanting to disturb him just yet, James chanted a Diagnostic Spell over the other man. All signs of the Muggle irritant had vanished and though Severus’ torso and arms were laden with various bruises, he was in one piece. James sighed quietly in relief and sat in the chair opposite Severus. When Severus continued to stare into his cup, James quietly encouraged, “Drink.”

Severus looked up from under hooded eyes. Skipping the usual comment about James’ mother-hen-ish tendencies, he took a shallow sip. Another cautious sip and then with an agitated movement, Severus set the saucer down with a clatter. He glared at James, sitting up straighter now. “Resorted to lacing my tea with Calming Draughts, have you?” he scathed.

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, just drink it before Lily comes down and finds you in this state,” he said, paying no attention to the way Severus’ black eyes snapped in irritation.

“I do not need a Potion to calm myself,” he bit out.

James held his gaze. “Clearly,” he agreed sardonically. Severus scowled at him, but a moment later, he was sipping at the tea again, though his expression had darkened considerably. When half of the tea had been consumed, James asked quietly, “Did you get the rest of the Muggles out?”

Severus was staring into the fireplace, watching the orange flames spitting against one another. “Eight.”

James stared at him. An entire village? Out of an entire village, there had only been eight survivors? Without meaning to, James’ gaze fell on Severus’ fingers; the dark blood was gone. Severus’ eyes had wandered to his pale fingers as well. They twitched restlessly against his lap.

“It was a little boy.”

James looked up sharply at the strangled whisper. Severus was staring at him, his face half-cast in shadows. His lips were twisted in disgust. “Dolohov tortured him and his parents—beat them...raped the mother. When I came upon them, the boy was just barely alive—breathing in his last few breaths,” Severus intoned, sounding as though he didn’t care at all. But James knew better.

He swallowed painfully as Severus continued in a sandy voice, “His father and mother were already dead…Dolohov…raped her, but the boy—the boy…I tried to stop the bleeding James, but after I took care of Dolohov…it was too late.” Severus took a deep, shaky breath. “There was too much blood-”

Severus’ fingers clenched convulsively on his knees, his teeth mashing together and James knew he was trying, without success, to Occlude his mind. “He could not have been much older than Harry…” he finally exhaled, his eyes shadowed beyond mere pain. And for once, James had no idea what to say. He simply stayed in the opposite chair, and watched his friend silently bringing his emotions under control.

Severus’ face was perfectly passive when Lily came into the room in her dressing gown, her arms full of tear-streaked toddler and her voice rife with exasperation as she said, “James, would you-” She stopped as Severus rose from her chair and went toward her; her face melted into a smile filled with relief. “Severus,” she breathed; Harry’s instantly craned his neck to see Severus.

“Daddy,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Daddy!” he demanded, his voice pitching to let all of them know a long crying spell would follow if Severus didn’t comply immediately. Simultaneously, Severus drew his sniffling son into one arm, and Lily into the other.

“Are you all right?” Lily asked quietly. “It’s so late--”

“I thought you would be sleeping,” Severus told her; his way of apologizing for not coming up to tell her he was home, as well as avoiding her query. Lily groaned in response, momentarily bypassing the issue of Severus' long night.

“Your son,” she informed him with a mild glare at said boy as she stepped away from Severus, “has been up and down at least a dozen times since I put him to bed in the first place.”

Severus, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, eyed Harry’s blood-shot eyes and snotty nose. “Is that so?” he inquired, his voice lilting so that Harry smiled. But it didn’t last. His lower lip began to tremble, as exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he began wailing. Expertly, Severus tucked the little boy into his chest, and moving his hand lightly over Harry’s back, he patted gentle circles.

The cries eased as Severus spoke in a low voice, reassuring Harry that he was all right. It only took a few minutes of the rhythmic shushing, until Harry’s eyelids began to droop, and finally he succumbed to his father’s deep voice.

Lily sighed, looking incredibly tired. Severus considered her weary face for a moment, before saying softly, “I will take care of Harry. You should sleep.”

Lily ran a gentle hand over Harry’s mussed hair as she stifled a yawn with her other hand. Then she narrowed her in eyes in concentration as she studied her husband’s face. “Are you all right?” she asked again. Severus nodded smoothly. Lily didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded anyway, knowing somehow that no matter how tired he was, Severus needed Harry in his arms right now. She reached her fingers up to caress Severus’ cheek. “Don’t stay up too late, all right?”

Severus nodded obediently and then, in a rare display, he clasped her fingers so that they were caught against his cheek. He pulled them around to his lips and kissed them lightly. Lily smiled in surprise. “Sleep,” Severus ordered in one of his gentlest voices. Lily stretched up on her toes to kiss her husband’s cheek before retrieving her trapped fingers and turning toward the stairs. Severus watched her until she was out of sight.

“It is time to end this.”

James, who had turned slightly out of respect for Severus, spun around again. “You want to try the Charm?” he asked, too startled to keep his voice low for Harry’s sake. Harry stirred but didn’t wake.

“No,” Severus denied in a hushed voice. James stared at him in confusion. “I will not risk Lily…it is time I took care of Voldemort myself,” he explained, his voice growing deadly in its quiet.

"But," James tried to protest.

"We will simply need to find them," Severus interrupted, his jaw clenching until it looked painful.

James doubted it would be simple, not with the two of them and likely Albus... Severus wouldn't even be able to help. Taking a bit of a leap, James said in a rush, "Remus and Sirius could help. There wouldn't be any reason to hide anymore," he tried to reason, but Severus was scowling at him already.

“Black will sooner kill me than offer me his assistance,” Severus pointed out, though he sounded more resigned to it than angry. And James couldn’t deny that accusation, but Severus was rather missing the point.

“He’ll do anything to help Harry,” he explained. Severus snorted, making James’ black eyebrows lift in surprise at the unfamiliar sound.

“Not once he learns that Harry has been my son all along,” he retorted in a dark voice, and James realized with a start that the thought of Sirius so easily tossing Harry aside, was what caused the anger now.

“He won’t turn against Harry, just because you’re his father,” James denied quickly, but even as he said it, he knew he couldn't be certain it was true.

--

1996

Harry found it extremely difficult not to heave a gusty sigh of relief as the jittery photographer finally pulled her camera down with a final nod. The Minister immediately dropped his hand and Harry let it drop down to his side, doing his best to be inconspicuous as he ran the damp palm against his robes.

“Thank you, Harry,” Scrimgeour said for perhaps the tenth time in the past hour.

“You’re welcome, sir,” Harry repeated, wishing he could ask the Minister to quit echoing a sentiment he didn’t really mean.

“If you have any questions before tomorrow evening, Harry, please contact me directly,” Scrimgeour instructed with a final smile as he began neatly arranging his robes around himself as he prepared to leave.

“Before you leave, Rufus,” Dumbledore put in from beside Severus, “I believe Harry would like to have a word with you about Lucius.”

Scrimgeour paused in his meticulous arranging; he turned so that he was facing Harry and Harry glimpsed the irritation as he left his face. “Of course, Harry,” he said easily, nothing but acceptance in his features now as he waited for Harry to speak. Harry gazed squarely at him, not giving in to the nervous tingle in his chest.

“I’d like to speak on his behalf at his trial,” he told the old ex-Auror. Scrimgeour’s face remained still.

“I did not realize knowledge of his trial had become public,” he said, his eyes glancing toward Dumbledore. Dumbledore’s expression remained mild, and the Minister explained to Harry, “Lucius Malfoy will be tried in front of the Wizengamot. They will call their own witnesses.”

“Lucius has been assigned an advocate, has he not?” Dumbledore asked in a voice full of polite interest. A tiny muscle straining slightly in Scrimgeour’s jaw betrayed him as he nodded smoothly. “I assume you would prefer to inform Lucius’ advocate yourself of Harry’s desire to speak at the trial, rather than Severus initiating contact,” Dumbledore inquired, his blue eyes full of innocence. Scrimgeour’s pause was heavy.

“I would be delighted to take care of the arrangements for you, Harry,” he finally answered.

Just as Harry was about to issue another polite thank you, Severus intervened, “I will look forward to hearing from Lucius’ advocate within the next day.”

Again the miniscule muscle twitched along the Minister’s powerful jaw. He nodded briskly. “She will contact you as soon as possible,” he promised. At Severus’ nod, Scrimgeour drew himself up so that he looked quite regal. “I am most honored to accommodate your son in any way I can, Professor.”

Harry watched as his father’s eyes lit in calculation at the generous statement. Scrimgeour continued, unblinking, “I would be pleased if you would give some further thought to my proposal for your property.” When Severus said nothing, Scrimgeour added grandly, “Your son will be remembered for generations to come.”

“As will you,” Severus returned blandly. Scrimgeour did not disagree. Severus gazed at him for a long moment; each one of them seemed to be sizing the other up. Finally Severus inclined his head. “Perhaps I will have time to consider it once all the festivities have ended,” he told the other man. The Minister’s jaw remained perfectly still this time as he nodded.

“My gratitude, Professor,” he said smoothly. Then with a final nod, a sleek thank you to Harry, and another bone-crushing handshake, which Harry was almost certain was even firmer than the first one, the Minister took his leave.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Harry grimaced as the door closed behind Percy. Dumbledore smiled and offered Harry a lemon drop, to which Harry shook his head.

“I thought it went rather well,” Severus said, with a trace of a smirk, shaking his head at the Headmaster’s little tin of candy. Harry gave his father a look of amusement.

“That’s because Scrimgeour had to beg you to allow that photo. I think he would have actually groveled if you hadn’t agreed when you did,” he pointed out. Severus raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence.

Dumbledore chuckled as he waved his wand to return his chairs to their proper places. “Your father is a skilled negotiator, Harry,” he said seriously. Harry smiled as he nodded a little, though he didn’t think negotiation was precisely the right term for what his father had engaged in with Scrimgeour.

It had felt wonderful to have someone with legal leverage to stick up for him though. McGonagall had done her best last year, and even Dumbledore in his own way. And Sirius…behind the scenes…but this was very different. His father had clearly been in charge…and there hadn’t been anything the sly Minister could do about it.

“You agreed to allow Harry to miss class?”

Harry turned a little to study his father’s raised eyebrow.

“I simply told the Minister that I would arrange it with Harry’s teachers should you agree,” Dumbledore explained with a knowing smile, and Harry wasn’t surprised when his father frowned.

“Harry has missed enough class,” he decreed, finalizing that discussion. Dumbledore simply continued to smile.

“Only one day off?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. His father gave him a pointed look.

“Christmas holidays are only a few weeks away,” he reminded him.

Harry’s smile faltered.

Christmas… His mind roved to last Christmas…the closest he’d ever come to a proper Christmas. After all, the Weasleys were almost family and Sirius—well, he had been family. Harry pushed Sirius away, wishing he could keep him locked away. Like he used to…

His father was studying him and Harry tried a smile. It was unsuccessful, but Severus didn’t ask what was bothering him. Not with Dumbledore smiling at them.

--

The stone staircase took its time in spinning Harry and Severus back to the main level. While they spun, Harry asked, “Are you really going to let him have his monument?”

Severus considered him as they revolved. “Do you think you would ever wish to live on the property?”

Harry shuddered at the thought. “No,” he answered with a firm shake of his head. The idea was…well, it was repulsive actually.

Severus nodded briskly; Harry’s sentiments were echoed in his expression. “We shall see if it proves incentive enough for the Minister.”

“What is it that you think he’s going to do?” Harry asked curiously. It didn’t seem as though Scrimgeour had anything in mind other than making sure the wizarding world thought that he and Harry were as close as any two mates.

“There will be many powerful wizards and witches at the dinner,” Severus told him. “People whom Scrimgeour hopes to influence as well. He wants to use you,” he explained and Harry smiled at the way his father said the words, as though they were the very foulest he could ever utter.

“I’m not going to agree to do anything,” Harry pointed out, and had to press his lips together to keep from grinning as his father narrowed his eyes.

“I will not give him an opportunity to ask anything of you,” he said curtly. With a sharp sweep, he turned to face Harry. “If he or any of his staff contact you, you are to tell me immediately.”

Harry nodded. “All right,” he agreed easily. It seemed his father was worrying needlessly. The man did have a penchant for overdramatics, after all.

“I am not overdramatic,” Severus informed him coolly as he faced forward again. Harry’s green eyes widened.

“How did you know I was thinking that?” he demanded, wondering if his father had mastered their connection well enough that he could actually read his mind without his knowledge. Severus’ lips quirked in amusement.

“I believe I told you once that your emotions are easy to read,” he drawled. “And,” he continued with a full smirk, when Harry began to argue, “your eye-rolling tends to denote you think I am acting in a manner akin to Molly Weasley.”

“Oh,” Harry said, chagrined. He hadn’t realized he’d rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly.

His father asked in an overly-serious voice, “For comparing me to Molly Weasley or for rolling your eyes?”

Harry kept his eyes straight ahead as he said in the same serious tone, “Well, I’m not going to apologize for something that’s true…just because you don’t want to hear that you’re basically an old mother hen.”

Severus’ gave him a glare as the stairs finally stopped spinning. Whatever retort he wanted to make, was cut off by an excited squeal. Harry turned quickly; a group of girls, spearheaded by none other than his feisty admirer, Elizabeth from Hufflepuff, was waiting for them; one of the younger girls in the back seemed to be the squealer. And a scowling Ginny, flanked by Ron and Hermione, was waiting as well.

Ginny, Ron and Hermione came toward them as soon as the squeal rang out. Ginny wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, standing much closer to him than she usually did when they were in a public place. Harry turned back to his father. “We’re going to go outside for awhile, all right?” The question sounded awkward, though he couldn’t quite figure out why. But Severus nodded, not seeming to notice.

“You need a coat,” he observed. Ron held out George’s old brown coat to match the one he was already wearing. Harry took it with a grateful smile and wriggled his arms into it. It was too long, but it would do. “I will see you at dinner,” Severus said as Harry was zipping up the warm jacket, before he turned toward the dungeons.

Harry wasn’t certain his father had glared at the group of bubbly girls that were still waiting as he swept past them, but either way, they quieted their irritating chatter.

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione ordered tartly, her nose turned up a little in disdain as they made their way toward the entrance hall doors. Harry thought Hermione’s attitude was on his behalf—until he noticed the goofy look on Ron’s face as they passed the giggling girls. “Honestly,” Hermione muttered to no one in particular as Elizabeth gave a cheery hello to Harry. Harry flushed and turned his eyes straight ahead as she winked at him.

Both Hermione and Ginny picked up the pace and Ron and Harry had to strain to keep up with them; Ginny’s fingers had tightened around his hand. Their short trek through the entrance hall and down the stairs was interrupted several times by requests for autographs, which Harry was beginning to find slightly amusing. His classmates wanted his autograph. Classmates other than Colin Creevey, he silently corrected himself with a grin.

And he found himself smiling for no reason at all as a tiny first year boy told him he hoped he would be as brave as Harry someday. Harry told the tousle-haired boy that he was certain he already made a fine addition to Gryffindor House, to which the boy pinked to the tips of his ears. Harry chuckled as Hermione continued to lead the way.

The air was still cold out on the grounds, though Harry didn’t really feel it as Hermione marched them across the grass. Other students were out as well and the little groups waved merrily as Harry and his friends passed. Harry returned their greetings cheerfully and didn’t even mind when a group of seventh year Ravenclaws stopped them to ask him about what had happened. Harry told them, amazed at how easy it was to talk about it. He wasn’t bothered at all.

“Harry,” Hermione finally broke in when one of the Ravenclaw girls began asking Harry about his dining preferences, “we don’t have much time before dinner.” The pretty Ravenclaw gave Hermione an irritated glance, which Hermione returned in kind. Ron tugged her away. With a wave to the seventh years, Harry followed with Ginny still by his side.

They chose a grassy spot by the lake. Hermione spread her robe out on the ground, after casting a Warming Charm over it. As soon as they were sitting comfortably, Harry told them all about the dinner.

“Your entire family is invited,” he told Ron and Ginny. He didn’t mention that his father had had to insist on it as they grinned. “Tonks and Remus will be there as well and I’m going to invite Neville. Most of the Professors will be there...and students who have ‘influential parents’ are on the guest list,” he added, mocking Scrimgeour’s words.

“Mum’ll be so nervous,” Ginny said, still smiling.

“The twins are going to do a jig when they hear,” Ron added. “Although,” he mused, “you’d probably better warn them not to do anything funny.”

Harry laughed at that. “Maybe I’ll tell them to do something special for Scrimgeour,” he returned. Ron’s eyes lit up at that. Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed herself to her feet.

“Hey, Hermione, Harry was only joking,” Ron protested. Hermione shook her head, but she was smiling as she brushed her palms on her legs. She walked toward the gently waving water, her feet shuffling the grains of sand along the shoreline.

“Ginny,” she called as she picked up a stone from the hard ground. The lake hadn’t frozen over yet and with a sharp flick of Hermione’s wrist, the round stone sailed with a plop into the water, causing a shock of ripples to surge outward. Ginny, with a fleeting smile in Harry’s direction, went to join her friend. Harry watched as Ginny’s stone caused even more ripples to disturb the calm surface. He watched until the ripples disappeared again.

“Hermione complained the entire time you were with Scrimgeour.”

Harry glanced over at his friend; he was staring at Hermione with a little frown. “What did you do?” Harry asked with concern, turning back to watch Ginny as she bent down to pick up another stone.

“It’s those girls, Harry,” Ron explained with a huff. Harry turned back to him; Ginny had straightened up again. “They’re practically throwing themselves at you,” he said pointedly. “And...” he added in a funny voice as he looked down at his trainers, “...a few of them have hinted they’d like a date…with me.”

Harry, his attention completely on his friend now, asked quickly, “You said no, didn’t you?”

Ron looked up swiftly, looking highly affronted by the question. “Course I did, Harry. I’m dating Hermione,” he stressed. Harry relaxed. But he tensed again at Ron’s next words, which were delivered with blue eyes narrowed. “Just like you and my sister.”

“I know Ginny’s my girlfriend,” Harry said as he rolled his eyes. Ron’s glare stopped him from actually smirking.

“Those girls know it as well,” he reminded Harry. “And they don’t care. Colin told me that Elizabeth's already been with most of the fifth years.”

“Ron,” Harry said with exasperation, his cheeks warming at his friend's silent insinuation, “I’m not going to sleep with her!”

Ron shook his head. “I know that, Harry. But just watch yourself with her, and any other female at Hogwarts. They’re all foaming at the mouths.” Harry would have chuckled, but Ron’s face was too grim.

“I’ll be careful,” he told his friend. Ron didn’t say anything for a long minute as he studied Harry. Finally, his normally cheerful face turned dark.

“You’d better not hurt her,” he warned, his tone hardening to one Harry had never heard before. Harry was about to tell Ron to fuck off, but the realization that this was not Ron giving the order, but Ginny’s brother, made him pause. He met Ron’s gaze squarely.

“I won’t,” he promised. When Ron nodded to accept the pact, Harry said seriously, “Don’t hurt Hermione either. She doesn’t have a brother, but I’ll fill in if I need to.”

Ron grinned at him. “Of course, I won’t, you prat,” he agreed. Harry grinned as well, relaxing again. The two of them turned their gazes back to the girls, who by now had their right arms wound together and they were laughing about something.

“I wasn’t joking about Scrimgeour, you know.”

Ron turned toward him again, with a sly grin. “Oh, I know.”

Harry laughed.

--

As soon as Severus entered his classroom, he stepped into the Floo and sent himself upstairs, to another empty classroom. Grateful that the halls were not crowded with students, Severus made his way to one of the arched windows that faced toward the lake. His eyes scanned the grounds until he found his son, walking with perfectly easy steps with his friends.

He watched with vivid concentration as Harry greeted students scattered in groups along the expansive lawn. And as his son stopped to talk to a group of seventh years, all of the girls angling themselves so that they were closer to Harry as they spoke with him, Severus tensed. Harry didn’t seem to notice; he was gesturing and speaking with great enthusiasm. Severus frowned as Ms. Granger finally turned from them and marched away. Ginny and Harry followed, and it wasn’t lost on Severus that Ginny seemed to be making certain there was absolutely no space between them as they followed the other two toward the lake.

Severus didn’t turn as another body came to stand at the window.

“Albus said you’d be up here.”

“What does the old man want?” Severus asked irritably, tired of Albus’ continual meddling. Even now, he could not grant him some measure of peace?

“I was looking for you. I thought you might like some company.”

The information startled Severus, though of course it should have been no surprise. Not after these past few months. “I do not require company, Lupin,” Severus informed the other man stiffly.

Remus didn’t respond. He simply stared out onto the grounds. “Harry seems happy,” he finally observed with a small smile. Severus nodded, though more to himself than to the man standing beside him. Harry did indeed seem much happier than he had this morning. Too happy.

“I didn’t expect him to enjoy the attention so much,” Remus echoed Severus’ thoughts. And indeed, Severus had expected Harry to be much more reluctant to accept the adoration of his peers. But it seemed that Harry was almost eager to receive recognition for what they’d done.

“How was your meeting with the Minister?”

Severus turned a little. “Disappointing for the Minister,” he answered. Remus smiled.

“Well, at least you allowed him his dinner,” he said, with a chuckle.

“You and Ms. Tonks will receive an invitation. I should warn you, however, that Harry insisted the two of you sit at our table with the Minister,” Severus told him.

“You know,” Remus told him with dancing eyes, which Severus tried to ignore, “I don’t think she would mind if you just called her Tonks now.” Before Severus could think of a suitable retort, Remus added, “And I won’t even blink if you call me Remus again.”

Not missing a beat, Severus held his gaze and said, “Certainly, Remus.”

And Remus did blink.

--

Harry looked up from stuffing his Transfiguration text into his bag as his father knocked on the door. “Come in,” Harry invited. He smiled as Severus let himself in. He arched an eyebrow at the eyesore that was Harry’s school bag.

“How can you possibly find your assignments?” he asked. Harry shrugged.

“I manage.” He smiled slightly at his father’s look of disbelief, but Severus didn’t comment further.

“How are you feeling?” Severus asked as Harry forced his bag to close. With that task complete, Harry plopped onto his bed.

“Wonderful,” he said with a grin. “I hadn’t given much thought to the positives of all this.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “The positives?” he queried. Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t have to worry about anyone thinking I’ve gone mad,” he explained. “They all want to talk to me, instead of whispering about me as I walk by,” he grinned, barely noticing as his father frowned.

For the first time in all the years that he could remember, he didn’t have to worry about receiving funny looks or being accused of being a freak or a liar. People were actually looking at him with awe…and with respect. A hero, Scrimgeour had called him, and though Harry knew the Minister hadn’t meant it in a good way, the others who had called him by the name today, had meant it. He had done the impossible. Just like his father said. He was a sixteen years old and he had defeated the most powerful wizard of their time.

“Harry.”

Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly as his father’s voice cut into his thoughts. Severus sat down next to him on the bed, his back straight, his hands folded pensively in his lap. “I have no wish to dim your excitement, but I want you to realize that there may still be those who will not receive you well,” he said seriously. Harry nodded solemnly, though he really didn’t think there was much to worry about. Except for Death Eaters, like Bellatrix, who wouldn’t be happy that he had vanquished Voldemort?

“There will be many people who will be eager to speak with you tomorrow evening,” Severus continued, in that same serious voice, “and it would not be wise to allow yourself to become carried away with the attention.”

“I won’t,” he promised, wondering why his father was worried about that, of all things. He wasn’t a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. His father studied his face briefly before nodding.

“Do you feel well enough to attend class tomorrow?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Harry assured him with a small smile as he re-positioned himself so that he was on his side with his cheek propped up on his palm. He yawned as soon as he was horizontal. “A bit tired though,” he admitted when his father’s lip lifted.

“Undoubtedly,” he murmured as he stood up, but Harry lifted his head up, his eyes widening the tiniest bit.

“I’m not ready to sleep quite yet,” he told his father quickly. His face revealing nothing, Severus sat again. Harry rolled over so that he was on his back; he rested his hands on his stomach, one atop of the other.

Harry couldn’t think of anything in particular that he wanted to talk about, but his father solved that after a short moment of silence. “Did you wish to discuss Christmas?” he inquired. Harry frowned a little as he tried to remember the relevance of that question but then with a wave of unease, he remembered Dumbledore’s office—and Sirius.

“I was thinking about last Christmas,” he explained, ignoring the acid churning in his stomach. Severus nodded, and Harry knew he understood what he wasn’t going to say. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about him,” Harry finally admitted. “Even when I’m perfectly happy, and have no reason to, I do.”

His father placed a hand over both of his. “I have found myself preoccupied with thoughts of your mother…and James.”

Harry frowned, wishing he hadn’t left his father alone all afternoon. He should have asked Remus to check in on him. Misinterpreting his frown, Severus reassured him, “It is perfectly normal, Harry. The memories will ease as the days move forward.”

Harry didn’t want to wait that long. It hurt too much. He propped himself up on his elbows as he suggested, “Maybe you could do what you did with my memories of Voldemort. Detach me from-”

“No.”

The sharp refusal startled Harry. The heat in his father’s eyes surprised him even more.

“The only reason I even considered detaching your emotions from those memories, was to give you time to recover,” Severus told him, his tone much harder than it needed to be. “It is not a solution for your grief over Black.”

“All right, all right,” Harry muttered, his surprise having turned quickly to irritation at the wholly unnecessary lecture. “No need to get so tetchy about it,” he grumbled under his breath, though he might as well have just said it aloud, as there was no way his father wouldn’t have heard it.

“Mind your attitude,” was all his father said though, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Sorry,” Harry murmured, not really meaning it, as he flopped back onto his pillow. Severus sighed.

“We could both use some sleep, it seems,” he observed quietly. When Harry didn’t answer, Severus asked, “Are you ready to sleep now?”

“I guess,” Harry shrugged, though in reality, his eyelids felt like they were weighted down with boulders. Severus stood. With one quick motion, he brought Harry’s blanket up from the foot of the bed and settled it over his son’s chest. Then, he handed Harry his Sleep Suppressive and watched until Harry had swallowed it. He took the vial back and nodded.

“Good night,” he offered.

“Good night,” Harry repeated stiffly. He blinked in surprise again, when his father’s hand rested itself on his cheek. And intense black eyes were staring down at him.

“I apologize for being tetchy,” his father said, his voice filled with gentle humour. Harry smiled at the mirth in the man’s eyes, his sudden inexplicable grumpiness dissipating. Severus clapped his fingers lightly against Harry’s cheek as he ordered, “Sleep."

Harry rolled onto his side, tugging the top of the blanket around his shoulder. “Night, Dad,” he said around a second yawn.

“Good night, Harry.”

--

Breakfast in the Great Hall was not much different than lunch and dinner had been the day before. Harry was interrupted so many times that he didn’t have a chance to eat more than a couple of bangers. Just as Ron had predicted, most of those garnering his attention were girls. Harry thought he heard Ginny mutter, ‘go away’ at least once and Harry, with a wave of guilt, wished he could talk to her before class, but before he had a chance, two of Ginny’s friends came over with questions about their upcoming Potions class and Ginny, with a quick kiss to Harry, was drawn away from him.

Once she left, there seemed to be little space around him anymore. Word had spread swiftly about the banquet tonight and it seemed everyone was vying for an invitation. And Harry sort of wished he could invite more of his friends. It would certainly be more fun with them, than with Scrimgeour’s stuffy associates.

Go to class.

Startled at the sharp command, Harry glanced up at the Head Table. His father was giving him a muted glare. Harry nodded to let him know he’d heard, not bothering to respond as he stood up. Ron glanced up quickly. “We’ve got to go to class,” Harry told him and Ron, his eyes shifting to Severus briefly, sighed a little, grumbling something about having a father as a teacher, but he stood up anyway. The clustered group, though, had no intention of letting Harry get away so easily, no matter that they were all about to be late for class.

They moved with the two boys, as they made their way toward the door. Harry made a few attempts to extract himself, but their exit had brought even more admirers and when an exuberant second year pushed her way forward and asked Harry for a play by play of events, Harry gave in, laughing at the way the little girl’s eyes shone up at him in wonder.

It wasn’t until a squeaky-voice Flitwick told all of them to get to class, as they were disturbing his class, that Harry realized how late they actually were. The others broke up quickly at the little wizard’s attempt at a fierce glare and Harry and Ron moved swiftly toward McGonagall’s class. Harry could just imagine her lips, pinched in disapproval, at their tardiness. He groaned. She would probably take points.

He grinned in relief as he and Ron skidded to a halt just inside the classroom. Remus was standing at the front of the room. He frowned, though he looked rather relieved as well, as he paused in his lecture.

Harry gave him a smile and a languid shrug as he and Ron slid into the only empty seats, right behind Hermione and Lavender. Hermione’s spine was practically vibrating with disapproval, but at least Remus hadn’t commented on their arrival. Not that he would…

They had missed enough of the lesson that Harry had a difficult time following along for the next ten minutes, especially as he hadn’t done the readings. But he had been rather busy, after all. So, he didn’t pay much attention and when Ron jostled him back to the present, Harry just stared at him in confusion.

“We’re supposed to be practicing,” he told him. Harry, having not heard a word of Remus’ lecture, had no idea what he was supposed to be practicing.

“What are we transfiguring?” he asked back. Ron shoved his open book toward Harry. “What is this?” Harry wondered.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Hermione spun around. “Honestly, Harry, how do you expect to pass your N.E.W.T.s if you don’t pay attention?” she asked, with a look of utmost pain on her face.

Harry frowned at her. “We don’t take N.E.W.T.s until next year,” he retorted.

Lavender had turned around by now as well. “Leave him alone, Hermione,” she admonished. “He hasn’t even had time to study, have you Harry?” she asked sweetly. Hermione pursed her lips.

Ignoring Lavender’s flirting, she said to Harry, “You still need to do your work.”

“Oh, Harry can’t think about that right now,” Hannah said from behind them. She scooted her chair forward a little, though the table was between them so it seemed altogether pointless as she leaned forward. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” she soothed. Ron rolled his eyes.

“He’s not exhausted. He’s not a pansy,” he told her.

“Yeah,” Seamus put in from across the aisle. “He’s a Gryffindor. We’re not weak.”

“What does being a Gryffindor have to do with anything?” Justin asked indignantly. Seamus smirked at the Hufflepuff boy.

Remus cleared his throat from the front of the room, suggesting silence, but none of the students seemed to hear him, or else they simply chose to ignore him.

“Harry, you’re awfully brave,” Hannah was telling him, her voice full of awe and Harry felt his face heating at the admiration in her voice.

“Yeah, Harry,” her constant companion, Justin, agreed, rising from his seat. “To just be able to stand there, without even flinching, with all those Death Eaters,” he marveled. “But not because you’re a Gryffindor,” he added pointedly to a still-smirking Seamus. Harry shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big thing. Of course, he’d been a bit anxious, but he had managed it, hadn’t he?

“Of course, he’s brave, Justin,” Ron said with pride. “He’s been fighting You Know Who for years now. He’s practically an expert in fighting evil. Right Harry?” Ron urged, elbowing him excitedly.

“Well,” Harry hedged, “not an expert…”

“Oh, Harry,” Lavender crowed as she leaned against his desk, “don’t be modest. The Prophet explained everything. It was absolutely amazing what you did,” she insisted, her eyes wide with her excitement and Harry felt his own excitement building again. It was amazing. Voldemort was gone and he, Harry, had helped to make that happen. He grinned at Lavender, but before he could say anything, Remus was suddenly in the middle of the aisle.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he admonished, though his tone was light. “Professor McGonagall expects us to accomplish a fair amount of work this morning. If you would take your seats please.” He waited expectantly but the students didn’t move away from Harry.

“Come on, Professor,” Seamus said with a smile, “Who can concentrate now?”

Remus shook his head, his smile looking a little strained. “I understand Seamus, however as Professor McGonagall does expect me to carry on as usual-”

“We just have a few more questions for Harry,” Lavender interrupted.

“Your questions will have to wait until the end of class, Lavender,” Remus told her firmly. He eyed the rest of class. “Now, if everyone will please get back to work…”

And for some reason, the others, all except Hermione, were suddenly looking at Harry, their eyes telling him to ask Remus for a reprieve. Harry was beginning to wonder if he might actually be able to, when Ron said, not so quietly, “Harry…say something.”

“Ron,” Remus began, sounding vaguely exasperated, “Harry is-”

And not knowing what compelled him to do it, Harry was saying, “Aw, come on. Who can concentrate on anything right now?”

“You have all of lunch to talk to your friends, Harry,” Remus told him, his usual mild tone sounding strained.

“We shouldn’t even be having class,” Harry told him.

“Yeah,” Seamus put in belligerently. “We should have a holiday now that Harry’s done away with You Know Who.”

There was the echo of fervent agreement around the classroom. Remus told them sternly, “Regardless of the fact that Voldemort is gone, we still have work to do.”

“McGonagall’ll understand if we don’t get everything done. Especially in this class,” Harry said pointedly. When Remus just stared at him, he cajoled,
“Come on, don’t be a spoil sport, Remus.” Harry grinned at his friend, shrugging carelessly, and was surprised when Remus frowned at him.

“It’s Professor McGonagall, Harry,” he corrected firmly, “and Professor when you’re addressing me as well.” Harry blinked at the rebuke, and then Remus was continuing in a hard tone, “And unless you’d like to find yourself in detention, stop arguing with me and get back to work.”

The other students, unused to that tone from their usually easy-going professor, stared at him. Harry, still stunned at his friend’s unexpected admonishment, didn’t move either.

“You never give detentions!” Seamus objected.

“You can’t give Harry a detention,” Lavender was echoing and the girls around her began bobbing their heads in earnest agreement, to which, oddly enough, Remus raised a sandy eyebrow.

“Harry is not exempt from detentions, or anything else that any other student is required to do,” he returned, but he was looking at Harry when he said it, and his voice had gone back to its normal tone. Harry, his cheeks flaming now, both in anger and embarrassment, looked away.

It was very quietly that Remus said to the rest of the class, “All of you, return to your practicing.”

Completely deflated now, the students did as they were told. Harry stared down at his book, trying to figure out how to do the assignment, but he couldn’t concentrate. He was too busy seething at Remus. By the end of class, he hadn’t managed to transfigure anything. Remus didn’t even stop to comment on his lack of effort. He dismissed the class after his walk around the classroom, saying from the front of the room, “Harry, stay for a moment, please.”

Ron paused, but Harry waved him on with Hermione. He stared straight ahead, his hands flaccid on the table. He didn’t look up when Remus perched himself on the table in front of him.

“Harry?” he questioned, his voice soft. Harry looked up.

“Yes sir?” he returned evenly. Remus blinked, and then he sighed deeply.

“Harry,” he said, shaking his head, “you know perfectly well I was referring to how you address me in class.”

Harry nodded. “I wouldn’t want to slip up again, though, Professor,” he explained, straining hard not to let his tone become too sarcastic. He must have failed miserably. Remus was leaning in toward him; he was still frowning.

“I know you’re not used to all this attention from your peers, but you still have to go to class and do your assignments just like any other year," he said, ignoring Harry's rudeness.

Harry pursed his lips together, not wanting another observation about his fame. “I’ll keep that in mind, Professor,” he said in mock-seriousness as he unclamped his lips. Remus stared at him for a long minute. When he didn’t say anything, Harry asked politely, “May I go now?”

Remus continued to gaze at him, his eyes filled with hurt and Harry felt a twinge of guilt for his attitude but he squelched it. Remus hadn’t needed to embarrass him like that. Not in front of everyone.

Remus slumped back a little against the table. “Fine, Harry,” he said, sounding suddenly very tired. “I’ll walk you to the Great Hall.”

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder, and followed his professor out into the corridor.

1996

Harry didn’t say a word the entire way to the Great Hall, and as soon as they reached the grand doorway, he turned sharply from where he was trailing slightly behind Remus and went to his table. He wasn’t quite angry enough not to notice as he was greeted enthusiastically on his way to his seat, nor was he irritated enough not to smile in response. He slid in next to Ron when he reached the end of the Gryffindor table.

Though he didn’t really want to care enough to watch as Remus went to the Head Table, Harry found himself turning slightly so he could follow Remus’ progress. But Remus wasn’t making his way to the Head Table as he should have been. Harry twisted around a bit further, back toward the doorway, but Remus wasn’t there either.

He felt rather foolish for the worry that immediately pestered him since he had just taken great pains to be show Remus that he didn’t care about their friendship. He took a quick survey of the room, but Remus wasn’t in the room. Severus, however, was watching him intently as Harry’s eyes roamed the hall, and Harry fervently hoped that he wouldn’t catch on that something had passed between him and Remus.

“If you’re looking for Ginny, she’s in the library,” Ron spoke up through a mouthful of crisps. Harry stopped his survey to turn back to Ron in surprise; he hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t at the table.

“She is? Why?” he asked with a slight frown. She hadn’t said anything about needing to study this morning; in fact, she’d told him she would see him at lunch.

Ron shrugged though. “Hermione’s with her. She caught us in the hall after we left Transfiguration,” he explained. “She was looking for you, but I told her you had to stay after class because you’d mouthed off to Lupin, and she got all huffy and went off with Hermione. Girls,” he concluded with another little shrug and a half-smile. He licked his fingertips and asked, “Lupin didn’t assign a detention, did he?”

Harry’s frown deepened as he shook his head, wondering what had happened to make Ginny ‘huffy’. It couldn’t have had anything to do with his exchange with Remus…

“I can’t believe what a git he was to you,” Seamus put in from across the table, and a tiny niggle worried Harry’s gut at the accusation.

“He really was quite unreasonable,” Lavender agreed with a sympathetic frown and it was only then that Harry noticed how close she was. He could feel her warm breath as she spoke. He turned abruptly back to Ron.

“Come with me to find Ginny, will you?” He nudged his friend in the ribs. Ron nodded as he stuffed another handful of greasy crisps in his mouth.

“Aw ‘igh,” he agreed, as he wiped his palms down his trousers, leaving two greasy trails. Harry still had his bag slung over his shoulder and he impatiently waited for Ron to gather his own bag and robes which he’d slung carelessly over the end of the bench. He had to force himself not to fidget, though he couldn’t fathom why he felt such urgency.

When Ron finally had himself in order, he pivoted around to lead the way down the tight space between the tables.

--

Severus watched with narrowed eyes as Harry’s departure with Weasley was halted three times. Each time, small pads, journals, and copies of The Prophet were thrust outward and with an overdone flourish, Harry signed his name. What had started out as an agitated exit, had swiftly become a sauntering turn around the room. Severus had no idea where Harry had been planning to go, but he had not missed Remus’ drawn features, or his eyes, cast in shadows, as he’d escorted Harry into the Great Hall—late. And Remus had left, after gazing for a few seconds after Harry’s erect spine as Harry had stalked to the Gryffindor table.

And Ginny and Ms. Granger were glaringly absent.

Severus watched for only a moment longer, frowning as Harry became more and more mesmerized with each new autograph request, completely forgetting that he had wanted to go somewhere. A flirtatious Hufflepuff fifth-year had his attention. Weasley was scowling as the girl whispered something into a flushed Harry’s ear.

Severus stood up from his chair.

With a quiet word to Albus, Severus swept from the room. He reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom quickly, not bothering to knock as he thrust the wooden door open. Lupin was at his desk, staring at nothing in particular. He didn’t even seem to notice Severus’ entrance. Severus closed the door, firmly enough to bring attention to himself.

Lupin’s eyes focused slowly. He smiled and Severus wanted to turn back around, away from the inexplicable sadness echoing in the other man’s eyes.

“Severus,” he greeted quietly. Severus stared at him, wondering why he had even come in here. Surely whatever was bothering Lupin could have nothing to do with Harry. The man looked dejected. Lupin tilted his head, as though in confusion. “Are you all right?” he asked. Severus pursed his lips briefly.

“I am,” he answered. Remus nodded at him.

“Can I do something for you?” he asked, in that same falsely pleasant tone. Severus couldn’t stop himself from scowling. The man was hiding something and so help him, if it had to do with Harry, he would—well, actually he didn’t have any idea of what he would do to Lupin, as Harry would undoubtedly be less than pleased if Severus enacted any sort of normal revenge.

“Harry remained after class with you?” he inquired abruptly, and knew instantly that he’d inferred correctly as Lupin grimaced. “Why?” Severus demanded, feeling the tingle of dormant resentment as a look of discomfort passed over Lupin’s features. Severus’ jaw flexed; Lupin sighed.

“I needed to speak to him about his behavior in class,” he explained as he passed a hand over his eyes. Severus stared at him in confusion.

“His behavior?” he repeated. Lupin nodded.

“His classmates were more interested in him, than in their work and when I asked them to return to their work, Harry argued with me over it. He assured me that Minerva did not expect his class to complete their work.” Lupin elaborated, sounding much more tired than he should have been at noon, and Severus had a very difficult time not gaping at the other man.

He had to pull his lips together to stop himself from creating another undignified echo. Harry had argued with Remus? In a classroom full of students? Remus smiled in wry understanding; he scrubbed his fingers across the back of his neck and leaned back a little in his chair.

“He called me Remus,” he said with a hint of dark amusement, and a slow shake of his head.

“I assume you corrected him.”

Remus frowned again. “Yes, and then I threatened him with a detention,” he said quietly, wincing a little.

Severus eyebrows slid under his hair. And again, an echo wanted to erupt from Severus’ lips. Severus was certain that Remus had never assigned a detention to a student. And now he understood his son’s erect posture in the Great Hall.

“Harry did not take it well?” Severus queried, prodding the other man to continue.

“He insisted on calling me Professor and sir,” Remus told him, but then he shrugged as though the entire incident had left him unconcerned.

And Severus suddenly understood Remus’ darkened tone as well; he was hurt. Severus narrowed his eyes and assured Remus tersely, “I will speak to Harry.”

Remus shook his head. “There’s no need, Severus. Harry-”

“I will not allow Harry to treat one of his professors with such disrespect,” Severus interrupted. Clearly his son needed an attitude adjustment.

And he would get one.

An emotion that almost looked like regret, flashed across Remus’ face. He nodded though. “Thank you, Severus,” he replied formally.

Severus paused only long enough to dip his head in acknowledgment before pivoting on his heel. He made it to the door before he turned again, but his question dissipated half-formed on his tongue. Lupin’s shoulders were hunched up around his ears, his forehead leaning into the heels of his palms. The posture was filled with rejection—and sorrow.

Severus spun swiftly around again, motivated by the dull stab somewhere in the vicinity of his rib cage, and he left as silently as he had entered.

--

Harry felt a slow flush creeping up his neck as Elizabeth leaned in very close; her fingers were brushing lightly against his bare arm. Her breath was tickling his neck.

“Didn’t you want to find Ginny?” Ron interjected loudly. He was scowling, his sparsely freckled nose wrinkled in annoyance.

Harry nodded jerkily and before he had a chance to move himself away from Elisabeth, Ron was yanking him by his wrist, away from the brunette girl.

“Ruddy hell, Ron,” Harry objected and Ron, with a something that sounded like a growl, let him go. Harry rubbed his wrist quickly, hurrying to keep up with Ron as he stalked out of the Great Hall. As soon as they’d rounded the corner, a group of first year Slytherins halted them.

“Oh, can’t you just let him alone?” Ron demanded in exasperation as little Felicity tugged on Harry’s sleeve, halting their progress toward the library. The tiny first year started at Ron’s tone, but then she lifted her chin defiantly.

“Harry doesn’t mind. We’re friends, aren’t we Harry?” she asked in an equally defiant voice. Ron rolled his eyes but Harry nodded his head solemnly, noting with a grin that Felicity’s friends were staring up at him in awe.

“What can I do for you, Felicity?” he asked.

Felicity, after a scowl in Ron’s direction, smiled at Harry. “Is it true that Draco’s daddy was really on your side?” she asked excitedly. “We heard Draco tell Blaise and Pansy all about it,” she rushed on, giving Harry no chance to answer. Harry wasn’t exactly sure how to answer anyway.

“Mr. Malfoy helped protect us,” Harry told the little girl, hoping that would suffice. Felicity and her friends began nudging one another in excitement.

“Draco said you were very brave,” a boy with curly blond hair spoke up shyly; Ron made a gagging noise beside Harry.

“Malfoy didn’t say that,” Ron told the first year with a frown. The boy scowled up him.

“He did so,” he argued hotly. “He said Harry has been doing brave deeds for years—all on his own.”

“You’ve known Harry since he came here, haven’t you?” Felicity asked Ron, whose face was starting to resemble a tomato. “It must be a treat, knowing someone as wonderful as Harry,” she said dreamily.

“Go to class. You’re about to be late,” Ron snapped in response, giving his prefect’s badge a pointed tap as another of the boys started to protest. The boy frowned but did as he was told; the rest of the Slytherins trailed behind, with Felicity waving over her shoulder as she took up the rear.

“It’s not time for class yet,” Harry told his friend, wondering why Ron was so grumpy. “They weren’t bothering me.”

“Of course they weren’t,” Ron said sourly. “And anyway, you took so long with your fans that we don’t have time to find Ginny and Hermione. And we have Potions,” Ron reminded him, but Harry shrugged.

“Yeah, Potions,” Harry repeated with a shrug. “My dad won’t say anything,” he assured Ron as he gestured him to continue on to the library.

“Your dad,” Ron retorted, “is still Snape.”

--

“Five points each for tardiness, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Snape.”

Harry’s step faltered.

Mr. Snape?

And had his father just taken points?

There were a few snickers around the room as his new name was laid bare and Harry felt his face heating. Ron groaned quietly at Severus’ pronouncement. Harry moved quickly to his seat before his father had a chance to say more. He heard at least one person whisper a scornful ‘Snape’ as he slid in next to Malfoy.

“Eyes forward,” Severus rapped in his professor’s voice, but both Malfoy and Harry were already staring straight ahead, Harry studying the day’s instructions on the board just to avoid his father’s eyes.

He’d taken points.

Severus picked up where he’d paused in his lecture, and Harry listened with half an ear as his father described the uses of a wizard’s blood in potions-making. He silently tried to convince himself that it was only five points—no big deal. Severus had taken many, many more points than that, after all. Many more…

When Severus ordered the class to begin, Harry turned his eyes to his text. Malfoy had already begun slicing the Fanged Mushroom Caps, though Harry could clearly see his pale fingers wobble against the knife’s handle. Harry and his father had gone over in excruciating detail how Harry should treat Draco, if he still wanted to help Lucius. After Severus had wasted no time in pointing out again that Draco hadn’t upheld his part of the bargain to do as he was told.

“You are under no obligation to give them your assistance,” his father had assured him, and for the first time since Harry had made the promise to Draco, he had considered rescinding his offer to help Lucius. Draco had betrayed them. Of course, he’d been threatened with slow torture and death, but Harry had been threatened with the same, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t been a coward.

But Draco really couldn’t help being a coward, could he? And Harry wouldn’t be a Gryffindor if he broke his word, even with just cause. With that less than compelling thought in mind, Harry asked, “Would you lend me your mortar and pestle?”

He didn’t really need one, of course, as his was perfectly sound, but it was worth the look that crossed Draco’s perfect face. And Harry realized with a silent chuckle that Malfoy had probably never been asked such a question before. But the blonde acquiesced, pausing in his chopping to hand Harry the requested items.

“Thanks.”

Draco blinked and then a knowing gleam stole into his silver eyes.

Perceptive acceptance.

“You’re welcome,” he said graciously. His white teeth flashed in an easy smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Harry?”

Harry had no time to register Draco’s question or his new mode of address as there was a sudden sputtering behind them, followed by a violent coughing fit. Draco and Harry both turned, though Harry much more quickly. Zabini was grasping the table, looking as though someone had poisoned him. Severus moved swiftly toward the choking boy and uttered a quick spell. Zabini drew in a clear breath, his eyes blinking in rapid bewilderment.

“Zabini?” Severus snapped. Zabini tore his eyes from Harry and Draco.

“I’m all right…sir…” he said quietly, sounding a mite hoarse, “…gum…caught in my throat.”

Severus frowned at him. “Chewing gum is not allowed in my classroom…five points,” he told him sourly. Zabini said nothing, nodding a little before turning quickly back to his cauldron.

Severus snapped his head around and gave Harry and Draco a narrowed-eyed look. Both boys turned around—Draco out of justifiable fear and Harry because he didn’t want to lose points twice in one class. He hadn’t done that in ages. He could feel his father’s eyes boring into the back of his head though and he quickly buried the flame below his storm.

Just in case he was about to get reprimanded again.

“Would you rather I pounded the figs?”

Harry turned to face Draco, ignoring the quiet muttering from behind. “That’s all right. I can do it,” Harry told the other boy, and to emphasize his point, he began pounding the dried figs with a little too much force. Draco watched him. Feeling a bit like a solitary Grindylow in a too-large tank, Harry raised his eyebrows pointedly. Draco smiled in expectance, waiting to be asked a question perhaps. But Draco wasn’t waiting after all.

“Have you been practicing? Your technique has certainly improved,” the blonde boy told him, obviously intent on keeping the conversations going; the overt compliment set Harry’s teeth on edge. He definitely preferred Draco the Git.

“Thank you,” he said anyway, playing his part just as well as Draco. Feeling the need to outdo Malfoy, he added in a tone full of flattery, “I’ve learned loads simply watching you in class.”

Harry allowed himself an almost-silent chuckle. The look on the other boy’s face was priceless, but he recovered quickly.

“Your father is a Potions Master,” Draco returned. “You must have inherited his talent.”

There was a short yelp of pain, followed by the clatter of knife against stone behind them and even Harry was having a hard time not gagging at the sickly-sweetness in Draco’s tone.

Enough.

Harry glanced up swiftly at the sharp command. His father really had much become much too proficient with that little talent, he thought resentfully. Severus’ face gave nothing away to the other students. Harry, however, was well aware what his father’s eyes were telling him—they were pools of black.

He wasn’t feeling quite reckless to test those pools. And so he gave Malfoy no more reason to continue the banter. Malfoy, having had no silent warning, continued to be so polite that Harry actually felt bile rise up in his throat at one point, but he simply smiled along. By the end of class, Malfoy looked much more relaxed than he had at the beginning.

He even seemed to smile genuinely when Severus awarded them full points for their joint potion. The smile faltered when Severus turned his back to the class, narrowing his eyes menacingly so that only Harry and Draco could see. Even Draco couldn’t miss that particular warning; he wasted no time in gathering up his belongings and exiting the class with Zabini in record time.

Ron seemed to be moving much faster than usual as well. Harry only had time enough to scoop his things into his bag with one sweep of his hand before Ron and Hermione both got away. He hurried to follow them. He smiled when he reached them, but Ron’s face was a stony mask.

“Harry.”

Harry’s smile vanished as he turned around; his father’s lips were set in a grim line.

The look irritated him and without thinking, Harry had his eyebrows raised in insolent question. Severus’ eyebrows lowered; the expression was very dark. “I would like a word with you,” he said in a tone so smooth that it made Harry want to get as far away as possible; he recognized that tone all too well.

“Wait for me,” he said to Ron and Hermione, hoping he didn’t sound worried; he handed his bag to Ron. Ron took it without a word and turned toward the door. Harry met his father’s gaze.

Severus gave Harry a bald look before holding out his hand and saying tersely, “Accio Harry’s school bag.” And then Harry watched in surprise as his bag flew through the air to come to a hovering stop in front of Severus. Severus plucked it from the air, paying no attention to Harry’s look. He set it down pointedly on the front table.

“Harry will not be rejoining you,” he told Ron and Hermione in a cool voice. Ron mumbled something that Harry couldn’t make out, while Hermione ushered him out, so quickly that Harry didn’t even have time to protest. Harry, suddenly feeling very warm, tugged at his school robes as his father gazed at him.

“I was going to go up to the tower before dinner.”

Severus frowned at him. “You are not going to the tower. You are, however, going to apologize to Lupin, for your abominable behavior this morning,” he returned evenly.

Harry frowned at that. “He didn’t need to tell you about that. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Would you have spoken to any of your other Professors in that manner?” Severus returned, his tone indicating perfectly well that he had better not. “Or called them by their given names?”

“They aren’t my friends,” Harry answered, wishing he didn’t sound quite so defensive. Why should he need to explain this?

“Lupin is also your professor and your elder, and you are to treat him with the same respect as any other adult,” Severus told him, his voice going hard.

But Remus wasn’t simply another adult. Not anymore.

“He didn’t need to snap at me,” Harry said, mostly because he didn’t want to give in on this point. Remus had been out of line…he had, Harry insisted silently, but even he could see he was trying too hard to convince himself.

“You were arguing with him, Harry—during a class,” Severus said, sounding exasperated that Harry couldn’t see the problem, though of course, Harry could see it. And yet he didn’t want to let it go.

“He threatened me with detention!”

“He would have been perfectly justified in giving you a detention.”

Harry glared at him.

“He’s my friend,” he objected, scowling as he remembered that his father had taken points, adding to his mounting feelings of injustice. Before Severus could reiterate that Remus was also his teacher, Harry added, “And he knows what I’ve done-”

“What have you done?” Severus interrupted; he was peering at Harry with penetrating eyes. Harry folded his arms across his chest.

“Voldemort,” he stressed flippantly. His father’s face was expressionless.

“And you believe that because you and I banished Voldemort, you are now entitled to special privileges?” he inquired, as though he really wanted to know. Well, saying it like that made him sound right daft, didn’t it?

“Of course not.” Harry squirmed away from the question.

“No?” his father echoed with one dark eyebrow lifted above the other. “You didn’t tell Lupin that Minerva would understand if your class didn’t complete their assigned work?”

Harry winced as his words were parroted back to him. They made him sound like a conceited child. He looked away from his father’s black gaze. “We shouldn’t have had class at all. Everyone wants to celebrate.” It was the only argument he could come up with. His father didn’t even bother to respond to it.

“You will apologize to Lupin.”

Harry turned to face him again. His father’s jaw was set. Harry sighed. “All right,” he conceded, realizing there wouldn’t be a way out of it. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t mean it. Feeling considerably grumpier when Severus nodded in acceptance, Harry asked, half-mockingly, “Do you want me to apologize to you as well, for being late?”

“Yes,” his father agreed, surprising Harry, “but not because you were late. You were attempting to take advantage of the fact that you are my son.” He scowled, and Harry began running a slow finger along the edge of the table. “Just as you took liberties with Lupin because he is your friend.”

Harry chewed the inside of his bottom lip as his father held his gaze. He wanted to talk to him about the five points he’d taken earlier, but he couldn’t. That was a discussion he didn’t want to have right now. Not ever actually.

“He embarrassed me,” Harry finally said, not knowing what else to say to rebuff his father’s statement, and the sting of Remus’ earlier rebuke was still smarting. “He threatened to give me detention. He’s never given anyone detention,” he said peevishly, though the guilt was jockeying for position with the hurt now. He ignored it. “And you took points,” he accused anyway, ignoring the slightly raised eyebrows at the change of subject.

“You were late. I would have taken points from any student-”

“I’m your son,” Harry interrupted forcefully…almost too forcefully.

“You are also my student.”

Harry felt his insides squirm.

Severus frowned.

“Harry,” he said quietly, in his best gentle voice, “if there is anything that you wish to-”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Harry snapped, not allowing the statement to be completed.

Instead of scolding him for being disrespectful as Harry would have expected, his father said seriously, “You have been short-tempered with both Lupin and I. You have made very little time for your friends, who have been so important in your life, instead focusing on people who have been-”

“For once, no one has anything bad to say about me. And for the first time, my scar doesn’t scare people,” Harry interrupted with an agitated shake of his head. “I can’t help it everybody wants to talk to me.”

“You have never enjoyed your fame,” Severus reminded him.

“Well, why shouldn’t I enjoy it now?”

“I did not say that you are not entitled to enjoy the attention, but not to the detriment of your relationships with those who care about you. I am concerned about you, Harry,” he added, stepping closer. The movement made Harry feel skittish; he quickly stepped away. His father stared at him, his eyes shining with surprise.

“There isn’t anything to be concerned about,” Harry told him, recovering quickly to feel the shadow of pain from Severus’ flame. The flame was extinguished before Severus had a chance to acknowledge it. “I’ll apologize to Remus, and I’ll spend loads of time with my friends.” Harry couldn’t quite still the sarcasm as it flowed from his tongue, and again he waited for a reprimand. It didn’t come.

Severus simply turned and went to his desk. “I have work to complete before we leave for the banguet. I will meet you in our quarters at six o’clock.” There was a short pause as he sorted potions vial. “That will give you plenty of time to spend with your friends after you speak with Lupin. You may use the Floo so that you will not be alone in the corridors.”

Harry stared at his father. His tone was more reserved than it had been in months, and he seemed to have forgotten that he’d just told Harry he would not be going to the tower. But Harry knew his father wouldn’t have forgotten it.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said uneasily.

Severus nodded curtly, but said nothing else as he began shuffling through a stack of parchment, and Harry’s shoulders sagged. He hefted his bag over his shoulder and sent himself through the Floo to Remus’ classroom, his feelings of unease heightening.

Remus wasn’t in his classroom, but there was a cluster of students passing by the open door. One of the chattering students spotted Harry alone in the classroom, and he was instantly surrounded by his exuberant peers, all of them clamoring for Harry’s attention. They led him out into the corridor where they were met by even more excited students. Harry’s spirits lifted considerably as he signed autographs and re-told the heroic tale of Voldemort’s defeat to his rapt audience.

It wasn’t until Flitwick, who was passing by on his way to the Great Hall, pointed out that it was time for dinner that Harry realized how much time has passed. He excused himself reluctantly, and since was still alone, he asked Flitwick to escort him back to his quarters. Flitwick obliged, though he kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way. Harry thanked him and quickly entered the sitting room as soon as he had the door open.

He halted as soon as he stepped over the threshold. A tall blonde witch was standing in front of the fireplace. She was smiling at Harry’s father as she adjusted her expensive-looking cobalt robes. Severus had turned toward the door as it opened. He nodded at Harry as Harry closed the door swiftly behind him.

The blonde witch turned now as well, her mirthful smile training on Harry. Harry looked uncertainly between her and Severus.

“And you must be Harry.” Her voice was multi-layered, and it sounded like there might have been laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. “Dawn Ridley. I’m Lucius Malfoy’s advocate.” She moved toward Harry and extended her hand. Her movements were almost uncoordinated, but there was a subtle grace about her that Harry immediately liked.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Ridley,” Harry greeted, smiling easily at her. She laughed a deep throated chuckle.

“Dawn,” she corrected. She glanced at Severus; her eyes brightened. “Your father and I have been discussing details of Lucius’ service with You Know Who. I’d like to speak with you both before Lucius’ trial, so that you can understand exactly what you’ll be asked, Harry. Perhaps you’d consent to meet with me at my office in the Ministry on Sunday, Severus?” Dawn’s head moved swiftly back and forth as she spoke to father and son alternately. Severus nodded; Dawn grinned. “I’ll have my assistant owl the details,” she promised.

“Your assistance is appreciated.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Dawn told him, her voice lowering with the serious words. “Lucius is very grateful for Harry’s willingness to do this, as I’m sure both of you are aware.” The mirth had disappeared from her voice, and Harry wondered briefly if being an advocate meant you had to sympathize with your client. Dawn’s posture was fairly screaming sympathy for Lucius Malfoy, the way it was curled so closely to Severus that their bodies were almost touching.

“I am aware,” was all Severus said stiffly. Dawn looked briefly confused by the change in Severus’ tone, but the smile stretched her lips again and she was all happiness once more. She pulled away from Severus as he moved toward the fireplace and pulled down the delicate box of Floo powder.

“I will look forward to seeing both of you on Sunday…if I don’t see you tonight.” She pinched up a share of powder, and then waved merrily as the Floo took her away.

“Did you speak to Lupin?”

Harry turned away from the lowering flames at the quiet question. He shook his head, running quickly through a litany of excuses that he might offer his father, but before he could find a believable one, Severus was reminding him that they needed to leave in less than ten minutes.

“Right,” Harry said, relieved by his father’s strange streak of forgetfulness. He went to his room to get ready; he was almost able to ignore the odd twinges of guilt that were making their presence known in his gut.

Ten minutes later, both of them dressed smartly in black dress robes, Severus and Harry stepped over the boundary line of Bavister Simon’s lavish estate. Harry’s eyes widened as he took in the opulent house; he could see crystal chandeliers glittering with long tapered candles through the arched windows. He glanced at his father, but Severus seemed unfazed by the wealth in front of him, and Harry wondered for the first time just how he had lived as a child.

He fingered his tie as they walked up the manicured stone path. “How close are the Minister and this Simon bloke?” he asked when they’d almost reached the inlaid wooden door.

Severus turned so that they were facing one another; the door was only a few meters away. “Scrimgeour seeks the support of such wizards as Bavister Simon,” he answered, not bothering to elaborate. Harry understood. He nodded.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised with a smile. His father didn’t return the humor. He simply nodded and turned again to the door. Before Harry could prod his father to elicit some sort of amusement, the carved door swept open with a flourish.

“Mr. Harry Potter, sir,” a tiny elf stuttered nervously. Harry started to correct the little servant, but then a tall wizard stepped around the door. He was dressed in elegant silks and he rather looked like an overeager bird. His yellow eyes were razors as he took in Harry and his father.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” he greeted with a smile; his beakish nose seemed to sharpen with the slight movement. He put out his fine-boned fingers. “Bavister Simon,” he introduced himself. A plump witch appeared by his side. “And this is my wife, Acquador.”

Harry accepted Simon’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir. It’s Snape though.” Simon’s lips thinned, but he nodded. His wife held out her stubby-fingered hand. Harry took it awkwardly, remembering seeing a Muggle lord greet a lady on the telly once that way. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said. She smiled; it was much more genuine than her husband’s.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry,” she said warmly, and Harry was reminded of Mrs. Weasley. He smiled. Mrs. Simons’s eyes twinkled as she turned to Severus. “And a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor Snape.” She offered her hand to him as well. Severus accepted it, bowing slightly at the waist.

“The pleasure is mine,” he returned formally, and then he straightened, releasing Mrs. Simon’s hand. Harry’s eyes flicked back to Simon; he was watching Severus with critical eyes. Harry immediately didn’t like the man.

“Mulfy, their cloaks,” Simon commanded the house-elf distractedly. Mulfy nearly tripped over himself to comply. Harry and Severus gave their cloaks to the elf; he disappeared beneath the heavy folds.

“Do come in. Everyone is anxious to see you,” Mrs. Simon invited, her eyes sweeping to include both Harry and Severus. But no one, it seemed, was waiting to see Severus.

They were led by Simon and his wife through a great marbled hallway and into a vast ballroom; the Great Hall at Hogwarts would have easily fit inside. Harry goggled at the displays of wealth. The room was draped in gold and the men and women were decked out in extravagant finery.

Everyone in the room turned as one person as soon as Harry entered. And then he was quickly surrounded, though instead of the clustered shoving of his schoolmates, the witches and wizards glided toward him gracefully. And they spoke softly, waiting with poise while they took turns asking him questions.

Harry somehow knew they were moving in a large circle around the room and he was aware of his father by his side the entire time, but he lost track of everything else, including the names of the dozens of people who introduced themselves to him. He was surprised when Mulfy announced dinner—he hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

“Harry, you’re seated at my table,” Simon was saying as he took Harry’s elbow to guide him toward his seat. Harry made a tepid attempt to shake his arm free, feeling uncomfortable at the touch, but Simon paid no attention as he explained, “The Minister, as well as several of my closest associates have asked to sit with you. They have much to discuss with you.”

“The Minister said my friends would be sitting with us,” Harry said, jiggling his arm again.

“I believe Harry can find his way to the table, without your assistance,” Severus broke in with his deep voice. Simon looked over to him in surprise; he’d obviously forgotten Severus was there. Simon dropped Harry’s elbow instantly. With eyes narrowed, Severus addressed Simon again, “I have not seen any of Harry’s friends, and as we have walked around the room twice, I can only assume they have been seated in a more comfortable location.”

Harry’s eyebrows dipped in consternation. He hadn’t even noticed that he had yet to see his friends. He turned back to Simon for an answer.

“Rufus mentioned it, of course,” their host, who was beginning to resemble a hawk now, told them without concern, “however, I did not believe they would feel comfortable at our table.” He indicated the glittering room. “Those unaccustomed to the finer graces would be ill at ease with my associates and I.”

He pointed a long finger to the farthest wall along the back of the room. The Weasleys, along with Neville and Hermione were seated around it, looking completely out of place. On either side of their table sat the Hogwarts’ professors, all of them eyeing one another warily; Hagrid was noticeably absent. As were Remus…and Tonks.

Simon smiled thinly at Harry. “You wouldn’t want your friends to be uncomfortable, would you, Harry?” Before Harry could say anything, the tall man shook his head. “Of course not,” he answered himself.

“But-” Harry began to object, feeling a rising anger at Simon’s presumption, but they had reached the table and Harry suddenly had to force his mouth not to flop open. Draco and his mother were standing behind two of the velvet-draped chairs; Scrimgeour was standing next to Mrs. Malfoy, though he didn’t look particularly pleased by where he found himself.

“Ah, Narcissa,” Simon said grandly. Mrs. Malfoy lowered her porcelain chin in greeting.

“Bavister, it was so kind of you to extend an invitation to us,” she returned, and though Harry could see the lines of stress around her pale eyes, Simon didn’t seem to notice. He bowed to Mrs. Malfoy and then nodded to Draco.

“It is my pleasure, Narcissa…Draco. It is a pity, however that Lucius will be unable to join us,” he said smoothly, glancing overtly at Harry. Harry was having a hard time not staring at the man. “Pity that he has been detained, in spite of his role in securing He Who Must Not be Named’s demise.” He turned fully to Harry, his face awash in concern. “But of course, you are planning to rectify that oversight.”

It didn’t sound like a question.

“My son’s plans regarding Lucius Malfoy are none of your concern,” Severus broke in, moving a little so that he was standing slightly in front of Harry. Simon’s golden eyes glittered as he studied Severus.

“The incarceration of an innocent man is the concern of all of us,” he returned evenly.

Harry goggled at Simon. Simon simply smiled and gestured for Harry to take his seat—there was a gold-lettered place card above his plate. Cards for Bavister Simon and Narcissa Malfoy waited on either side.

“What about my dad?” Harry asked blankly, looking up at Simon. Simon smiled; perhaps vulture would be a better way to describe the man…

“I thought Professor Snape would be more comfortable with his colleagues.”

Harry felt his father stiffen beside him.

“No,” Harry said reflexively. He hadn’t meant the word to be so sharp, but the group gathered around the table turned to him. He pressed the left half of his lips together. “I want him to sit with me,” he said, softening his tone a bit.

Simon didn’t even pause, though there was more than one distasteful brow raised at Harry’s declaration. “Of course, Harry,” Simon agreed. Harry nodded, feeling a bit worried over Remus now as well.

“And will Remus be sitting with us then? He’s not at the other table.”

Everyone was still waiting for Harry to seat himself, and a look of disgust smoothed very briefly over Simon’s face. His wife’s features became pinched as well. Harry noticed Dumbledore, for the first time, waiting patiently for Harry to sit; his blue eyes were full of sadness. Harry found it hard to look away.

“Professor Lupin sent his regrets earlier,” Scrimgeour finally spoke up, looking uncomfortable.

“He did?” Harry asked in surprise and immediately his guilt flared almost overwhelmingly over what had happened this morning. He had offended Remus enough that he hadn’t wanted to come…

He swallowed past the thickness in his throat as his eyes strayed to the far tables, secluded from the rest of the group.

--

The night finally ended, after dinner with more courses than Harry could actually eat. He gave up after the third, picking half-heartedly as each new plate was set in front of him. He darted continuous glances over at the back tables. The Weasleys were laughing, having more and more fun each time he looked. Except Ginny.

She was sitting quietly, smiling sometimes, though it always looked strained. And each time, he looked over, his stomach swooped. He had spent barely five minutes with her in the past few days, and he hadn’t even noticed. And then there was Remus’ empty chair…

The conversation at dinner had centered on Harry and for the first time in three days, he didn’t want to talk about Voldemort; his friend’s were taking up too much of his thoughts—and he even began squirming uncomfortably as the hour grew long. Not one person at the table, with the exception of Scrimgeour, seemed to have an occupation, and yet all of them were interested in learning what Harry’s plans were when he completed Hogwarts. Three of them had offered him apprenticeships with close associates. They hadn’t accepted his refusals.

And Draco and his mother had been the worst of all. Draco was still acting his part from Potions class and Mrs. Malfoy seemed eager to play along. Both of them listened with rapt attention to every word spoken by Harry, with Draco offering his exceptional pureblood perspective, as Simon had termed it, when any of the elder wizards spoke of opportunities which Harry might wish to pursue.

And Mrs. Malfoy had even patted Harry’s hand in a maternal manner at one point when Draco was assuring him that he wouldn’t be bored in the least if he chose to simply join the ranks of the elite of wizarding society. It only took a look from Severus for Mrs. Malfoy to peel her tapered fingers from Harry’s skin. She looked rather pale during the remainder of dinner.

And Dumbledore simply watched all of it with concern.

As soon as the plates were replaced with delicate tea services and tiny puddings, Simon had introduced Scrimgeour to the quiet room, who had in turn invited Harry up to the raised dais at the front. Harry stood reluctantly throughout Scrimgeour’s tedious speech, his eyes straying more constantly to his friends and professors in the back. He didn’t really understand why none of them were smiling until he focused on the Minister’s speech.

He was emphasizing Harry’s feat in destroying Voldemort—single-handedly. And when Scrimgeour asked for a few words from him, Harry was so completely flustered by the looks of disapproval from Ron and Hermione—and Remus’ heavy absence, that he could only mumble an incoherent string of syllables that seemed to be taken as a confirmation. An enthusiastic applause broke out and Scrimgeour smiled in delicious contentment as he was surrounded as well by pleased potential supporters.

“Wonderful speech, Harry,” Simon congratulated him as he stood around his table later to say his farewells. Harry didn’t know how to respond. Had he given a speech? “Perhaps you might consider a career in politics,” Simon suggested with his bare-lipped smile. “An internship this summer at the Ministry of Magic would give you ample opportunities to observe Rufus’ exemplary work.”

Harry felt his father’s stiffening frame beside him, as if he were worried that Harry might actually consider it, and that’s when Harry finally realized that his dad had been almost completely silent the entire evening and even the flame had remained dormant against his storm.

It seemed it had been purposely dimmed.

Severus had answered questions directly asked of him—there had been very few. But he had been largely silent. And to Harry, the silence felt ominous.

“Thank you sir,” Harry remembered to respond as Simon was watching him expectantly, his bird-eyes hungry.

“I will make time in my schedule for you as well,” the tall wizard assured him. “You will be able to do anything you want to do…with the proper friends, Harry.”

Harry felt a tall shiver slink down his back.

“Erm…I’ll have to think about it, sir…thank you,” he hemmed. Simon’s sparse smile remained.

“You will have your seventeenth birthday in July. You have many decisions to make,” he agreed. “I only hope,” he continued with a pointed glance at Severus, “that you will not heed the advice of those who wish to undermine you.”

Harry had no idea how to respond to that. He understood precisely what the Minister was implying, and it made him feel ill. Nobody that Harry trusted would ever hurt him. He told Simon as much. Simon smirked at him, but didn’t attempt to argue.

“Rufus and I will be in touch,” he promised. His attention was taken then by Lucius advocate, Dawn. She smiled broadly at both Severus and Harry before she began speaking animatedly to Simon. She kept glancing at Harry as she spoke. Simon was smiling as they turned away.

“Severus, if you have a moment…”

Harry turned. Mrs. Malfoy was standing, her fingers clasped together in front of Severus. Draco stood by her side.

“The trial is set for Monday,” Severus told her, not wasting a syllable. Mrs. Malfoy nodded hesitantly.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Thank you for contacting Albus on my behalf.” Her hands twitched against one another in anxious friction. She turned to Harry and Harry was startled to realize the poised woman looked like she was going to cry. “Lucius is very grateful, for your assistance,” she said fervently. Harry stilled the shrug so that he was nodding.

“I’m only keeping my promise,” he told her. Draco flinched, but he didn’t lose his easy smile.

Mrs. Malfoy rushed over Draco’s reaction, with a flap of her fingers to the room in general. “You have been most kind and whatever we can do to compensate you for-”

“You will not give Harry even one sickle,” Severus cut her off. His eyes were flashing rapidly. “He will not accept gifts of any kind,” he restated more clearly, his eyes raking over mother and child. Though Narcissa looked agitated, she didn’t argue, but she didn’t seem to know what else to offer.

“Lucius’ advocate would like to meet with Harry before the trial begins,” she said hesitantly. Severus nodded once, saying nothing. Apparently, he didn’t feel the need to share with Narcissa that they’d already met the advocate. Harry figured he wasn’t Slytherin enough to understand why.

--

Though the hall had cleared considerably, those lingering, stopped Harry as he and his father wound their way carefully through the maze of tables. Each time he paused to answer another question, the weight in his chest grew heavier. When they finally reached the shrouded tables, he wasn’t sure his chest was still rising and falling with each new breath.

His friends were gone.

All except Fred and George, who smiled at him and offered their hearty congratulations. Bill was standing next to George. He smiled as well.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry and Severus with their customary smiles.

“It was past curfew and Professor McGonagall insisted that the other children go back to Hogwarts,” Mrs. Weasley told them. “Ginny was rather upset.” Harry frowned. But Mrs. Weasley’s next words had him grinning again. She was addressing Severus, “Hermione told us that the other Gryffindors are having a little celebration tonight in honor of Harry. They asked if Harry could come.”

Harry turned to his father. “You may attend if you wish,” was the indifferent reply, but Harry didn’t pay much attention to the tone, only the affirmative answer.

He was about to ask if they could return to Hogwarts, when Mrs. Weasley’s arms swallowed him up in a hug. “We’re so glad that you’re safe now, Harry,” she told him. He was almost certain she was crying. She held on to him for a few more minutes before finally allowing him to step away; he adjusted his glasses. Mr. Weasley shook his hand with smile, and clapped him on the back.

And then Mrs. Weasley was addressing Severus again, “You as well, of course, Severus. When Bill sent us the message that all of you were all right, well we…” She choked up again and finished the thought by dabbing at her eyes with a hanky.

“Your son was an asset during our time with Voldemort,” Severus told them solemnly, dipping his head a little. Though all the Weasleys, save the twins, shuddered a little with the name, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed at the praise. Bill was smiling as well. Severus, his features a bit stiffer than they had been a moment ago, turned to Harry and suggested they take their leave. Harry, eager now to see Ginny, bid goodnight to the Weasleys and the few remaining professors and followed his father out toward the front door.

Mulfy had their cloaks waiting for them, his little hands quivering with eagerness. Before they could leave, both Simon and Scrimgeour seemed to materialize at Harry’s elbow. Offers were extended again for Harry to take part in an apprenticeship at the Ministry of Magic. Harry didn’t know how to tell them that the idea held no interest for him without insulting them so he simply thanked them again. He could practically feel his father vibrating with irritation as the two men finally allowed them to leave.

Mulfy smiled widely as he closed the door softly behind them.

Severus adjusted his cloak as he walked silently down the stone path leading to the property’s apparation point.

“I’m not going to work as Scrimgeour’s apprentice,” Harry told him as they neared the spot beyond the wards. His father stopped just before they crossed the boundary. His lips were pinched white lines.

“In that case,” he said tightly, “you should not have misled them.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched together; he pulled his cloak around himself to ward off the late night’s chill. With a terse movement, his father spelled a Warming Charm over them.

“I didn’t know how to tell them no…I didn’t want to be rude,” Harry explained as the warmth washed through him.

“Informing someone that you do not wish to serve as an apprentice is not rude,” Severus disagreed with a sour frown. “Scrimgeour is likely dictating a missive to his assistant about your acceptance. I would not, in fact, be surprised if there is an article in The Prophet tomorrow about your new career,” he finished; Harry disliked the unchecked sarcasm.

“I didn’t say yes,” he stressed, but his father seemed unconcerned with that little detail; his scowl intensified. “Are you still angry about what I said to Remus?” Harry asked abruptly. Half-concealed surprise flitted across his father’s eyes.

“I was not angry that you were rude to Lupin,” he denied.

He didn’t elaborate on his feelings from that afternoon, so Harry asked, “Do you think Remus didn’t come because of me?” He was surprised by how upset the thought made him, but his father was shaking his head solidly.

“Lupin would not be so vindictive. I suspect there is something else at bothering him,” he said. Harry cocked his head, but before he could ask for an explanation, his father continued, “I will speak with him in the morning, and,” he stressed, “I will expect you to apologize as soon as you have time tomorrow.”

Harry nodded. Part of him almost wanted to apologize now. Especially if it would rid him of some of the guilt he was feeling. The guilt was almost as overwhelming as the darkness that he could almost feel on the edges of his consciousness. The darkness held at bay by his father’s shields. It seemed to call to him…

“…stay in the tower,” his father was saying and Harry tuned back in, scrambling to make sense of what his father was saying. He wanted him to stay in the tower tonight? But that couldn’t have been what he had been saying. Why should his father want him to stay away? It wasn’t so late that Harry couldn’t come back down to their quarters after the celebration. Harry nodded before he meant to though and then a vial was in Severus’ hand.

His Dream Suppressive.

“The entire vial,” his father reminded him tonelessly, and Harry nodded again, the darkness fuller now.

The starless sweep of the sky was echoed in Severus’ eyes. He pivoted away, over the boundary line and Harry followed silently.

When they reached the Apparition point, Severus hesitated and then beckoned Harry to come forward. Harry stepped close against his father’s side. The arm around his shoulder was held stiffly in place and then Harry felt the whirling separation as he was turned inside out.

The walk to Gryffindor tower was made in heavy silence. Harry kept darting nervous glanced toward his father, but Severus seemed determined not to look at him. As soon as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Severus snapped the password.

The Fat Lady obliged and Harry was staring at the portrait hole.

“I will see you in the morning.” His father’s voice was cold through. Harry stiffened, the distance in his father’s voice setting off several different alarms, most of them sounding suspiciously like a Potions Master that Harry had once known. His unease shifted quickly to irritation.

“Fine,” he snapped, not even looking at his father as he stepped through the entrance to his common room.

Something cold was shoved into his hands as the portrait closed sharply, and a great rousing cheer went up. Harry didn’t have a chance to catch his breath as he was passed around the overcrowded room for congratulations. There were far too many people to fit comfortably in the room, especially as there seemed to be more than just Gryffindors enjoying the party.

“You know Professor Snape will kill you if he finds out you had that,” Hermione finally pointed out as he came to a stop awhile later in front of Ron and Hermione with a second bottle in his hand, though Harry noticed she had her own bottle; she hadn’t opened it yet.

“Where did you get this?” Harry asked Seamus, who was obviously in charge of the clinking single-serve bottles of firewhisky. It was better to ignore Hermione’s observation—his father wouldn’t find out and he wasn’t even certain his father would care if he did find out somehow. He certainly didn’t seem to give a damn that he was going to sleep in the tower.

Harry took another swallow, wincing as it burned its way down his throat, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

“Dobby,” Seamus replied with a shameless grin. “All I had to say was that it was for a party in your honor and he gave us everything we asked for.”

At that pronouncement, Hermione pursed her lips and placed her bottle back in the large tub full of dozens of unopened bottles. “That wasn’t very nice, Seamus. You could get Dobby in trouble,” she admonished, but Seamus only shrugged. Hermione glared first at Ron and then at Harry, obviously expecting them to give up their bottles as a show of support for elf rights, but Harry didn’t. Once his tongue had been numbed by the first bottle, it tasted rather nice. Ron, after a long-suffering sigh, set his bottle next to Hermione’s.

“Harry?” Hermione questioned pointedly. With a small smile, Harry took another sip.

“Where’s Ginny?” he asked once he felt confident enough to speak again, and after Hermione had given him one more glare.

“She’s over by the fireplace,” Hermione told him, pointing toward the merrily blazing fire. And indeed, Ginny was curled up quietly in Harry’s favorite chair, a few friends seated around her.

“You should talk to her,” Hermione said, nudging Ron when he looked about to say something contrary. “You haven’t had much time together since Voldemort died.”

“…not that she hasn’t tried…”

Harry turned sharply to his red-headed mate. “I’ve been busy,” he defended himself automatically, his facial muscles readying for an argument. Ron made a face at him.

“Yes we know, Harry,” he drawled sarcastically. “What with signing autographs and telling tales about how you single-handedly killed You Know Who.”

Killed.

Harry flinched, but he shoved the guilt away to frown at his friend. “I didn’t say that,” he denied, trying to keep his voice low.

“But you didn’t deny it when Scrimgeour said it, or when your little Slytherin friends said it,” Ron retorted in a heated stage whisper.

“Why do you care, Ron?” Harry asked angrily. “Or are you simply jealous again?”

Ron’s eyes narrowed; he leaned toward Harry with a furious glower. Hermione grabbed his arm before he could say anything. “Ron,” she warned and there was only a brief hesitation before Ron pulled back again.

“You’re becoming an even bigger wanker than Draco Malfoy,” he said quietly, and then he turned away, ducking out the portrait hole. Hermione watched him go and then turned to face Harry.

“He was-”

Hermione interrupted him with a deep sigh and a shake of her bushy hair. “Go talk to Ginny,” she ordered tiredly and without waiting to see if Harry would listen, she followed Ron. The portrait thudded behind her.

Harry watched them go, wavering between fury at Ron for insulting him and disgust at himself for actually being a bigger wanker than a Malfoy. He couldn’t decide whether to go after Ron and attempt some sort of explanation or go find Ginny. Before he had a chance to make a decision, he felt a feathering touch up his arm. The touch lingered around his shoulder.

“Hi Harry.”

Harry turned in surprise. Elizabeth was smiling at him. He didn’t even have time to wonder why she sounded like she had a head cold, before she was leaning in toward him, whispering how she’d been waiting for him.

Her voice was low and husky as her lips brushed up against his ear. Harry jerked backward. And he found Ginny staring at him, her cheeks pink and her soft brown eyes almost dull with hurt. Harry’s eyes widened in alarm. Elizabeth paid no attention to Harry’s distraction; she leaned in toward him again.

Ginny turned, her lips twisted as she walked quickly away. Harry brushed Elizabeth’s roving hands away and twisted sharply to keep Ginny’s retreating back and twitching ginger hair in sight. Harry felt the insistent tugging of female fingers along his sleeve, but he ignored them as he hurried after Ginny. He skirted around another tipsy girl and an alcohol-brandishing trio who wanted Harry to join them in a song, finally catching up with Ginny as she was about to flee up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories.

“Gin?” he implored as he reached out to catch her elbow. She pulled it back, spinning slightly. And where Harry had expected to see tears, there was anger in the toffee eyes.

He took a step back.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Ginny asked, and Harry was surprised at the absence of heat from the question. But he hurried to explain anyway.

“I’m sorry about Elizabeth. I’ve been dodging her all day,” he said quickly. Ginny glanced over his shoulder, possibly glaring at Elizabeth, but when she looked back, her brown eyes were full of concern.

“And that?” she asked quietly, pitching her light eyebrows toward the bottle in Harry’s hand. Harry’s eyes followed her pointed gaze. With a slight jostle, the remaining liquid was sloshing sloppily inside the glass container. Harry shrugged, not understanding her meaning.

“It’s firewhisky.”

Ginny pursed her lips. “I know what it is, Harry,” she snapped. “Since when do you give in to peer pressure?”

Harry blinked at her. “It’s just a drink, Ginny. What does it matter?” he asked, feeling exasperated. He’d only taken two swigs from this second one, anyway.

Ginny’s arms folded across her chest and she gazed at him for a long, assessing minute before saying seriously, “It’s not you. You’re not like this.”

“Like what?” he demanded. Ginny as well? Part of him wanted to scowl at her in bitter accusation, but with a little shake of her head, she was turning away again. With a bit of alarm, Harry touched her elbow again. She didn’t shake him off this time. “Wait, Gin,” he said quietly. She waited, but she didn’t turn to face him. “Can we talk for a minute? Please?”

Ginny sighed. She turned around again. “Will you get rid of that bottle?” she asked, sounding perfectly stony and her ginger eyebrow was arched in a rather strange imitation of Severus. Harry nodded quickly, his alarm spiking at the thought of Ginny retreating up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory. He set the bottle down on a table next to Ginny’s leg. That’s when he noticed that half the room was leering at him—and Ginny as well, their faces alight with interest. Ginny scowled.

“We’ll go to your room,” she decided as she spun toward the opposite staircase. Harry obediently followed. “And just for a minute,” she said firmly. Harry nodded, his alarm abating. He caught up with her steps quickly and they went up the stairs together, all eyes in the room following their movements.

As soon as they entered, Ginny spun around again to face him. Harry backed up a step, unnerved by the ire in her eyes. “Do you like her?” she demanded, her pretty face screwed into a furious frown. Harry blinked at her, feeling dazed.

“Who?” he asked, bewildered, and having a hard time concentrating on anything but Ginny’s perfume. She smelled lovely. And the room seemed very warm.

“Elizabeth, Harry. She had herself draped all over you,” Ginny told him as she continued to glare. “She was kissing your ear.”

Harry gaped at her. “She was not,” he denied. Had she been kissing his ear? Ginny opened her mouth, but before she could continue, Harry shook his head. “Of course I don’t like her, Gin.”

“You let all girls touch you like that, then?” Ginny retorted; her hands had moved to her hips now.

“I didn’t mean to let her”—he shook his head, trying to clear the confusion—“I mean…she keeps coming up to me…and whispering things to me. I’m sorry,” he finished lamely, uncertain of what he was trying to say, exactly.

And Ginny suddenly didn’t look so fearsome anymore. “Every girl in this school wants to be near you,” she told him, looking oddly dejected. Harry didn’t like it. He stepped closer to her, tentatively reaching down to clasp one of his hands in his. The fingers stayed limp, but at least she didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want her, or any other girl, to be near me. I love you…remember?” he asked, his voice teasing a little. Ginny looked up at him.

“People say funny things when they think it might be their last chance to say it.” The slight waver in her voice told him she was trying very hard to be nonchalant. He smiled down at her.

“I didn’t say it because I thought I was going to die,” he said seriously, marveling a little at how true it was and at how wonderful he felt as he gazed down into her brown eyes. “I do love you, Gin,” he assured her. “I’m sorry about Elizabeth.” Ginny’s fingers tightened around his hand.

“I’m worried about you,” she admitted, her voice very soft as she gazed up at him. Harry shook his head.

“I’m all right. I just didn’t realize that she-”

“That’s not what I mean,” Ginny cut him off. Harry tilted his head in confusion. “You’ve been acting oddly, Harry.”

“I haven’t. Why does everyone keep saying that?” he asked with a frown. “Is it really so unusual that I should be grateful that for once, everyone isn’t acting as though I’ve gone mad, in some way or another?” he asked. Surprisingly, Ginny shook her head.

“Of course not, Harry. And no one wants to take this away from you. You should enjoy some of the attention, but Harry,” she stressed, her eyes crinkling at the corners, “this isn’t you.”

“You said that already,” he pointed out. “And I still have no idea what you mean. I’m simply trying-”

Ginny interrupted him again. “Mouthing off to Lupin? Refusing to call him anything but ‘Professor’ just to spite him,” she asked. “That’s you?”

Harry tried to interject, but Ginny plowed ahead. “You didn’t even try to give any of the credit for what happened to your dad, Harry. You sat there and accepted every word Scrimgeour said, as if Severus had done nothing at all.”

Harry’s shoulders were beginning to sag. That hadn’t even been his fault. “He said he didn’t want-”

Ginny glared at up him. “You know perfectly well, Harry Snape, that you wouldn’t even be here if it hadn’t been for your father. And you didn’t say a word. You acted as though you did it all alone. Without any help from anyone…not Lupin, not Dumbledore, not Bill,” she scolded. “And even Ron and Hermione have noticed the way you’ve been so…so overly pleased with yourself.”

Harry’s face warmed; Ginny leaned in close to study his face, and like he never had before in Ginny’s presence, he was uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “I wasn’t thinking about it,” he excused himself lamely, not having any way to explain why he’d been such a prat. He hadn’t even realized he’d been acting oddly. “I just haven’t been worried about anything…and I just…I thought I was happy…” He shook his head again, thoroughly confused now.

“Harry,” Ginny said gently. She stepped toward him, bringing a hand up to rest against his chest; he leaned in to her touch. “Don’t you think it’s time you talked to someone about what happened. Your dad, or-”

But Harry shook his head in agitated denial. “I’m all right,” he insisted to her, just like he’d told his father. “And anyway, we’re going to see Pomfrey tomorrow.”

Ginny nodded, and she was relaxing a little. Harry, still feeling the weight in his chest from how much he’d upset her, tentatively put his hands against Ginny’s back. He smiled as she moved toward him. “I really am sorry, Gin,” he apologized softly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish and that I haven’t made time for you…I’ve missed you,” he told her. Ginny drew in a shaky breath and her voice was muffled as she leaned her cheek into his chest.

“I’ve never been as scared as I was when you were with Voldemort, and then when you came home so quickly, I was so relieved.” Harry, his heart lurching, tugged Ginny closer; her body seemed to melt into his. “You’ve been acting so strangely,” she told him quietly. “That scared me even more, I think.”

His limbs felt icy with shame and remorse. He’d hurt everyone in the past two days. He would have a lot of apologies to make in the morning. But if Ginny was willing to forgive him, he knew Ron would as well. Making amends with Remus would likely be more difficult, and since he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done to upset his father…

“Harry?”

Harry shook himself. Ginny was staring up at him.

“Are you all right?” she asked quickly. “You looked just like you did in your quarters yesterday when we were playing Gobstones.”

Harry remembered the cold, vacant feeling as though he’d been sucked into the void, but he felt nothing about it. It was an odd sensation. He thought he probably should feel a bit unsettled the darkness that was creeping toward him, but he shrugged it away though to focus again on Ginny, who was still gazing at him with concern.

“Do you want to go back to your quarters?” she was asking him and Harry almost laughed at the dismay in the question. He bent down to a brush a kiss against her soft cheek.

“No,” he assured her in a low voice. And when he felt her moving closer so that her body was folded against his, he asked her softly, “And I don’t want you to leave either.”

Ginny’s head came up, her brown eyes surprised. “Harry,” she began, her voice full of hesitation but Harry just shook his head and leaned down again to brush another soft kiss across her lips. Her breath caught in her throat.

And he could picture exactly what she was thinking, and for the first time, the image of sharing something intimate with Ginny didn’t make him uncomfortable. He only felt a surge of protective love. Not until you’re ready, he promised her silently. “I just want to talk to you,” he said and he felt her smile as he pulled his fingers through her long hair. “I really did miss you, Gin.”

Pulling away with a swift movement, Harry grabbed Ginny’s hand and brought her toward the bed. With a grin, Ginny hopped up, and without waiting to be reminded that they had shared their first kiss in this exact spot, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him.

And Harry forgot about everything else. He forgot that the rest of the world was looking for a hero, and he forgot that he’d angered all the people he cared about. All that mattered was Ginny.

Moving gently, Harry maneuvered them carefully so that they were lying together on the bed. Ginny didn’t even hesitate, and then her body was pressed up against his. Harry’s heart skittered as he felt her breasts giving way against his chest. His hands trailed lithely over her hips and under her shirt as they moved up her ribs.

Ginny tugged Harry’s head down so that she could reach his lips more easily. His mouth parted as soon as her tongue prodded them. His hands continued on their upward trek, stopping only as his thumbs brushed the silky fabric of Ginny’s bra. He didn’t stray any higher, even though there seemed to be a roaring voice in his ears telling him to. He ignored it, focusing instead on Ginny’s lips.

He moved his hands so they were against her back and drew her more fully against him. Ginny’s hands had found his skin as well. They did their own tugging and Harry obliged, sweeping her legs to intertwine with his in one swift movement. Ginny shivered against him and Harry deepened the kiss as he allowed these new sensations to overwhelm him.

--

Ginny was jerked awake some time later by a horrible scream. Scrambling upward, she looked around in confusion, having no idea why she was still in Harry’s bed. And then her breath caught in her chest as she saw Harry, bathed in sweat beside her, his eyes closed.

And he was screaming as though he was being tortured.

She took Harry’s arm to shake him out of whatever nightmare he was caught in. “Harry,” she coaxed as she tried to wake him up. But his eyes remained closed, his body contorting in increasing agony against the sheets. And no matter how hard she shook him, he wouldn’t wake up.

The curtains around the bed were yanked back and Ron’s face, stark white, shoved itself in. “Get Snape!” Ginny commanded breathlessly before he could even speak. Ron nodded jerkily, spinning around without saying a single word and racing toward the stairs.

“Harry!” Ginny tried again in a loud voice, shaking him roughly now with both hands around his biceps, but it didn’t do any good.

And his screams were sending waves of terror down her spine.

Black.

Empty spaces, filled with hate.

Glee. It must be stopped.

He must be stopped.

--

1996

“Come through,” Severus finally snapped after Remus’ second refusal, but his features melted into a passive mask of disinterest as Remus stepped through the flames. Lupin’s face was waxen; he looked about as close to exhaustion as he could be without actually toppling over. His eyes were rimmed in red, and the skin was puffy. Severus ignored all the signs that the other man had been crying and ordered a generous measure of fire whisky from the kitchens—Remus’ taste for wine would not be as developed as his own.

“Thank you,” Remus murmured, though the small tumbler stayed put on the arm of the chair where he had all but collapsed as soon as he had cleared the hearth. His fingers wound themselves tightly around the delicate glass.

Severus waited for him to speak. But Remus said nothing as he stared at the still liquid.

“Harry will want to speak with Scrimgeour about this.”

Remus looked up sharply. “No,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “That’s precisely why I didn’t let either of you know before you left for the banquet.”

Severus regarded his son’s friend speculatively. “When were you notified?” he asked after a pause. Remus looked away.

“I should apologize to Harry for this morning,” was his answer. The ambiguity did not suit him.

Severus breathed in a silent, calming breath before speaking. “Your own foul mood does not excuse Harry’s behavior, even if you were overly harsh with him.”

Remus smiled, a twisted smile, full of regret. “It hardly matters now, Severus.”

“It takes so little for you to give up, then?” Severus asked seriously, though his tone was tilting with sarcasm.

“There isn’t anything to do about it,” Remus told him tiredly, not even rising to his bait. “Even Albus didn’t have any encouragement.”

“Harry will not let this happen, you realize,” Severus told him. Remus frowned at him.

“And what I want makes no difference, I suppose,” he said, and Severus was startled by the bitterness in the other man’s tone.

He did not comment on it. “It is not what you want. It is being forced upon you by ignorant purebloods-”

“Ignorant?” Remus interrupted with both eyebrows raised in skepticism. “You would have been among them not months ago, Severus,” he said quietly. Severus dipped his head in acknowledgement. He could not deny it, though it would have been out of spite toward a childhood tormentor, rather than any real idealism about pure-bloodedness.

He let that discussion lie. It was much too personal.

Instead he inquired, “And how to do you plan to support a wife, much less a family, if you are no longer employed?” He had meant the question to come out more sarcastic than it actually did. But he didn’t think his unintended concern was the reason for the sudden tremor along Remus’ jaw.

“That no longer matters either,” he said quietly, before knocking back his fire whisky, while Severus watched with a regret he didn’t know how to contend with.

Needing something to cover the soggy discomfort in the air, Severus reached for the flask of wine next to the Floo, intending to pour himself a generous portion. But the flask slipped from Severus’ fingers as agony jolted through him. He barely heard the heavy shattering of glass against the stone floor.

Harry.

All other thoughts fled his mind. Terror filled his heart as he moved without conscious thought toward the Floo. He was vaguely aware of Remus stepping in next to him and the other man calling for Gryffindor Tower, and then his heart stopped as he stumbled out of the fireplace.

Harry’s screams filled the common room.

He recognized that there were far too many students in the room for this late hour, and he had to shove more than one startled student aside as he rushed toward the stairs. Remus’ footsteps were close behind. Halfway up the staircase, he heard the desperate shout, “Get Snape!” and then a body collided with his. Without even pausing, Severus twisted around the tall, lanky form and finished his ascent in only a few seconds.

The screaming continued.

Severus could feel the heat draining from his face as he stepped over the threshold; Harry was writhing on the bed, his face filled with such harsh pain that all Severus could feel was a raw, desperate need to take it away. He paid little attention as Ginny, huddled over his son’s body, tried to explain in nonsensical babble what she was doing in Harry’s bed, but Severus had no care for his son’s sexual explorations at the moment. He needed the girl to move.

“Move,” he snapped before he could stop himself, his voice almost a growl. Ginny paled and quickly scrambled off the bed.

Limbs, which had been held down with Ginny’s pressuring fingers, began to tumble freely against the sheets and the screaming didn’t abate at all. Severus leaned over his struggling son, ignoring his own echoing pain, and the stench of alcohol on Harry’s breath, as he grabbed his arms.

“Harry,” he said sharply as he tried to shake him awake. He seemed to be caught in a nightmare. Severus twisted around to glare at Ginny. Her face was stark white. “Did he take a potion before he went to sleep?” he asked, his voice ringing in the still room. He didn’t bother to temper his emotions, didn’t even bother to wonder why he was asking when he already knew the answer—he couldn’t smell the Draminweed.

Ginny shook her head quickly. “We didn’t mean to fall asleep” she attempted but Severus cut her off.

“How much did he drink?” was his next harsh question. This time she didn’t flinch.

“One bottle,” she supplied and Severus could hear the disapproval in her voice. He spun around to Harry again. There was no ready reason why Harry shouldn’t wake up from a simple nightmare.

Severus shook him again, but to no avail. There was nothing else he could think to do save entering his son’s mind; he sat gingerly on the bed beside Harry, and Severus forced himself to breathe evenly as he splayed his fingers against Harry’s perspiring face.

Harry’s consciousness streamed against his own. But the storm was nothing but purest pain. And it seemed to be slipping, as though a crevice had opened and the cloud was seeping through. It was impossible, but instead of the dense thickness of Harry’s shield that Severus usually encountered, the cloud was light—he could see Harry’s nightmare beyond without pressing inward.

Severus brought his flames forward, as gently as he dared; he had no idea how imbedded Harry was inside his dream. The flames melted through the flimsy storm with ease. And then he wanted to recoil away from the anger seething from within. Black’s face was filled with hate as he screamed words that Severus could not understand.

But he wasn’t falling into the veil, as Harry had described of an earlier dream. Instead, Black was coming through the immortal curtain, the Department of Mysteries a glacial cave, and he was brandishing an icicle as though it were a spear. He seemed to become more violent with Severus’ intrusion. But Severus couldn’t find his son.

Severus finally saw, his anxiety spiking, that Harry’s storm was huddled in a corner, quaking with cold.

He was hiding.

The flame went toward the terrified storm.

Harry, the flames warmed quietly and then flicked sharply against the shaking storm when there was no response, but there should have been something from the storm. He could sense his son all around the icy chasm. Entangled in the parts that were purely Black.

You need to come with me, Severus directed but the storm rumbled with uncertainty.

With mistrust.

This is not real. Black is not here. This is a dream, the flames tried to reassure him. That which was Harry didn’t seem to believe him. He seemed incapable of it, in fact. I will take you out of here. You are my son, Severus insisted and there was a small flicker of understanding within Harry’s conscious.

…cold, the storm chattered and without deciding to do it, Severus wrapped his flames around Harry, drawing the storm inside the circle of fire. He felt immediate relief that Harry didn’t protest. Si…Sirius, the icy storm attempted to explain, but then the winds petered out and the wasted storm seemed to collapse against the flames. Severus could feel the betrayal in his son’s mind.

And, it was an odd sensation, but Severus could feel his son’s fingers gripping his, even as he remained in Harry’s mind. As if Harry’s storm was not strong enough to anchor him here. Severus felt like he was teetering between a dream and reality.

“…Harry,” he could hear himself saying out loud and then he could feel the skin around his son’s mouth relax and he realized that the screams had ceased. Uncertain if Harry could release himself from whatever had trapped him, Severus kept his flames securely around the storm, and steered his son from the frozen cavern, being extremely careful not to let Black’s angry litany break through his shields—Harry’s shields seemed useless. To be so affected by a dream, it was painfully obvious that Harry was in much more distress than Severus had realized.

Flame and storm left the icy cave where Black’s memory had taken up residence. Severus didn’t even bother to guide Harry back to consciousness; he simply dragged him along, and then Severus found himself leaning over Harry, his hands still against his son’s face.

Severus pulled back a little, and chanted a wandless, “Ennervate.”

Harry’s eyes drifted open. He blinked up at his father in confusion. “Dad?” he asked in a wispy voice, attempting weakly to sit up, but Severus held him down, exerting very little effort to keep his son in place. Harry didn’t even struggle. His eyes were searching him and Severus realized the query seemed more a confirmation of Severus’ identity.

“Yes,” he answered. Harry relaxed at the word, though the smaller fingers against his own tightened. Odd that Harry could have been aware enough to find them while still caught in his nightmare.

“How do you feel?” Severus asked roughly, his anxiety not at all abated. A nightmare shouldn’t do this…

Harry shook his head, as though trying to clear his jumbled thoughts. The skin around his eyes was pinched and pale. He looked nearly as tired as he had when Severus had returned after Halloween. “You were having a nightmare,” Severus told him and Harry’s colour drained even further. Severus watched as remembrance seeped into his son’s eyes.

“Sirius,” he whispered, sounding as though he was about to empty his stomach, and then his emerald eyes widened. “It was only a dream?” he asked and when Severus nodded, Harry shuddered; Severus could clearly feel his trepidation, just as he had felt in Harry’s mind. “He wanted to kill me.” The strangled pronouncement stiffened Severus’ spine. He sounded so assured of it.

“It was a nightmare,” Severus told him firmly, but Harry shook his head; the black strands waved back and forth against the pale pillow. Severus watched with mounting worry as Harry swallowed several times, but he didn’t vocalize whatever he had been disagreeing with. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping eye contact.

Severus leaned down a bit, and Harry flinched. But this time, Severus didn’t back away, though he did cover the pain that flowed again. It was the second time that Harry had shied away from him, and yet Harry’s fingers didn’t lose their desperate grip. Something was very wrong.

“Harry,” he used the name as a command and Harry’s eyes snapped up. The emerald was dull and haunted, and they seemed ringed with guilt, though Severus didn’t think it was purely for his misdeeds in the past few hours. “What did you wish to say?” he asked, pitching his voice so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily hear him. Harry continued to gaze at him, though he almost looked like he could be easily startled into bolting off the bed. Severus pulled back a little, but Harry’s eyes took on a wild hue, and his fingers attached themselves more securely to his father.

“No,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”

Severus wound his fingers tightly in Harry’s before moving both sets downward to rest on Harry’s chest. Harry relaxed, but he was still watching him warily.

Harry couldn’t have explained the intense feeling of intrusion, nor the relief and simultaneous panic that washed through him as Severus moved backward slightly, and then grasped his hands. He didn’t even recognize that he felt either emotion. He only knew it was safe to speak now. “I could feel him,” he managed quietly, but Severus only stared at him in confusion.

“Who?”

“Sirius,” he supplied shakily. “I could feel his anger. It felt hot. It was melting the cave…” his voice trailed off as Ginny and Ron came into his line of vision behind Severus. Ron’s freckles stood out across his cheeks and nose. Ginny’s brown eyes were filled with worry.

Harry felt a slow flush creeping up his cheeks as he realized that his father had likely found Ginny in his bed, and since she was still here, Ron must have known she had been there as well. They hadn’t done anything, but that wouldn’t matter to Ron…not in his current mood. But Ron didn’t look angry; he looked almost as worried as Ginny did. He should be anger. All of them should be furious.

Severus had followed his son’s gaze. “We need to return to our quarters. I will contact Poppy,” he said quietly. Harry’s eyes came back to him. He didn’t acknowledge that Severus had spoken. His father shifted a little against the bed as though the position was uncomfortable. “We can go to the Hospital Wing if you would rather.”

Harry shook his head, troubled that his father still held his shields close. Maybe it was just because Ron and Ginny were here. Or perhaps he’d been a bigger prat than even Ron had said he was. He was a little relieved though, when his father took his elbow, as gently as always and started to guide him upward. At least he was going to let him come back to their quarters.

He moved his legs around carefully, but he couldn’t do much more than wobble as Severus helped him stand. His legs felt as if someone had just cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him. He felt himself sagging against his father’s side; Severus used one of his strong arms to catch him before he could fall. He held him up easily.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny asked, her brown eyes brighter than they had been a moment ago. Harry frowned down at his legs, frustrated at his sudden inability to make them obey.

“Do you want me to summon Poppy up here, Severus?”

Harry turned sharply toward the voice. He hadn’t realized Remus was here. The sudden movement sent a wave of disorientation through him. Before he could topple over, his father wrapped an arm securely around his ribs. Harry tensed, but his father retained his grip, carefully steering him back to sit on the bed.

“I’ll get Poppy,” Remus confirmed, not waiting for a response before heading down the stairs at a jog. Harry tried to still his jingling guilt as he watched his friend’s retreating back.

“Did you find out why he wasn’t at dinner?” he asked, ignoring the more pressing questions, as well as the unease he felt when he heard how weedy his voice sounded.

“Do you feel weak?” Severus asked, ignoring the question. Harry frowned while he shrugged.

“Not really. Dizzy,” he explained. He was about to ask about Remus again, when Pomfrey came much too quickly through the open doorway, with Remus close behind. Taking in Harry and Severus, as well as Ginny and Ron, she turned first to Harry’s friends.

“Both of you wait downstairs. Professor McGonagall came with me. She is dealing with your housemates,” she informed them ominously.

Ron groaned. “What about Harry?” he asked mulishly. Poppy glared at him.

“Now,” she ordered. It didn’t stop Ron from muttering as he obeyed. Ginny looked about to say something, but Pomfrey ushered her out with an index finger pointed firmly at the doorway.

Remus moved with Pomfrey toward the bed and Harry followed his movements; he could feel the tightness in the muscles around his lips. Remus smiled gently at him, and Harry’s gut swooped with renewed guilt; he had never seen Remus look so sad. He was about to blurt out a useless apology, but Pomfrey was pushing him downward, and had already begun clucking over him.

“You should have brought him to see me earlier, Severus,” she scolded. “He’s had enough time to rest.” Harry glanced at his father; he didn’t even react to her. He was staring too intently at him. “How do you feel, Harry?” she asked as she ran her wand up and down his body.

“Tired,” he answered automatically. He felt completely exhausted actually. Pomfrey’s eyes flicked to him in surprise.

“He has been sleeping,” Severus told her before she could ask. She frowned between them.

“What happened, exactly?” she inquired, sounding pinched.

“He didn’t take his Dream Suppressive,” Severus supplied, and Harry was surprised that he didn’t sound at all irritated. “He had a nightmare, but neither I nor Ginny could rouse him. I had to enter his mind to bring him back to consciousness,” he elaborated.

“What were you dreaming about, Harry?” she asked gently, finally bringing her wand to rest by her side. Harry swallowed, not wanting to answer her. He didn’t want to think of it. Couldn’t think of a reasonable way to explain that it hadn’t been a dream. Sirius had tried to kill him.

“Black.”

Harry’s eyes shot up to meet his father’s again. They were narrowed in intense concentration.

“His godfather?” Pomfrey asked in surprise.

“He wanted to kill me,” Harry whispered. The words hurt even more this time and he flinched as he heard Remus’ sharply indrawn breath.

“It was a dream,” Severus repeated, leaning in toward Harry. And Harry thought he didn’t sound entirely convinced of it.

“It wasn’t,” Harry tried to tell him again. “He was the same…the same as when we were leaving...you must have seen him and then now…the same shadows, it was the same.”

“Harry.” His father’s baritone shook him out of his babble. He stared in confusion into his father’s obsidian eyes for a few seconds as he tried to remember what he’d been saying. Something about Sirius. Sirius hated him…that was it. Had probably hated him for months now—for killing him. And Harry had the insane thought that perhaps he hated him even more because he somehow knew that Severus Snape was his father.

“He hates me,” Harry said certainly, and then everything went dark.

--

“Harry!”

Severus, panic overcoming him once more, let Harry’s hands free and gripped his shoulders, shaking him as hard as he dared. He protested the strong fingers that wound themselves solidly around his upper arms, but the fingers were relentless steel and he was being pulled against his will away from his son.

“Severus!” Remus interrupted his struggles loudly. “Poppy needs to examine him,” the other man told him in a tone that swayed with the words. Severus stilled abruptly. His unease, as well as his discomfiture, made his movements sharp as he detached himself from Remus’ hold. Remus moved with him back toward the bed, Severus feeling only mildly calmer. Harry’s eyes were still closed, though he seemed to be breathing normally, if not more shallowly than he should have been.

“Has he had any other dizzy spells?” Poppy was asking him; her face was too grim. Severus shook his head.

“He did earlier…before we fell asleep.”

The adults turned around. Ginny was in the doorway, her hands held tightly together. She stepped into the room.

“It was just like the morning after Voldemort died,” she told them quickly. “He was staring off into the distance, as though he was somewhere else and then he seemed confused for a few seconds after he was focused again.”

“It’s too much like what happened before we met Voldemort,” Remus said. Poppy shook her head in frustration.

“How many times has this happened?” she demanded.

“Several…that I am aware of,” Severus answered, furious with himself now for not paying more attention to his son. He’d been too caught up in his own pain. Too concerned about Harry’s attitude to realize he had been so affected.

“You only told me of the one,” Poppy accused him, and Severus could only nod.

Instead of lecturing him as Severus would have expected, Poppy only sighed. “I’d like to examine him more fully in the Infirmary. His life signs are erratic,” she said softly, making Severus’ ears clog with a roaring heartbeat. “A more thorough diagnostic is in order, I believe.”

--

It took a minute for Harry’s eyes to focus in the dim light. He blinked a few times, moving his head back and forth against the pillow that was positioned perfectly under his head. There was a soft rustle of robes from beside him and Harry immediately shifted his head so that he could see his father as he stepped near. His dad rested his palm against his forehead; it felt toasty warm; he smiled a little.

“Feels nice,” he murmured.

“Are you cold?”

Had Harry been more lucid, he would have been startled by the gentleness of his father’s voice; even after he’d come back after Halloween, he hadn’t sounded like that. But he was only marginally aware that Severus was really standing next to him. It felt rather like a pleasant dream. And you don’t answer dreams, so he simply nestled his head more firmly in the pillow, enjoying the smell of cloves as a blanket was tugged up firmly around his shoulders, and tucked into place. Most definitely a dream. His father had never tucked him in before. Not like that.

“Dad?” He wondered if maybe his dream would answer him. Or perhaps it was more like whatever had happened with Sirius. That hadn’t been a dream.

He relaxed as his father’s rich voice asked, “Yes, Harry?” The voice was closer now, and he could feel his father’s fingers pressing lightly against his chest. That felt nice as well.

Harry licked his lips. They felt awfully dry. But maybe that was because he had so many confessions to make.

“Here…drink a little of this,” Severus suggested softly and Harry felt a straw pressed in between his lips. Harry took a long sip. The water was much too cold. It felt very like the cave where Sirius had tried to kill him. He shivered.

“Thanks,” he told his dream-father. “…I’m tired,” he confessed, “but I have to tell you something…”

“Rest Harry,” Severus commanded gently. Harry shook his head. It took more effort than he had. But he had to apologize. If only he could have told Sirius how sorry he was, perhaps he wouldn’t hate him now. His father wasn’t happy with him either. He’d even told him to sleep in the tower tonight…were they back home now…probably not. His father didn’t want him here.

--

“I’m sorry I made you tell me to leave,” Harry whispered, and Severus heart lurched against his ribs.

“Harry,” he tried to interrupt, but even though Harry’s voice was barely audible, he seemed determined to speak. Severus took his hand gently in his own, squeezing it. His son smiled, and Severus felt his entire world sinking around him.

“I don’t know what’s been wrong with me, but Ron told me…I’ve been a wanker…worse than Draco,” he smiled. “Ginny said it’s not me…”

“Harry, you’re sick,” Severus interrupted painfully, unable to listen to his son’s attempted apology, and wanting to say so much. Harry tilted his head a little so that he could look at him. He looked concerned.

“I feel like me,” he said fuzzily, obviously losing his focus more quickly now. Just as Poppy had said he would, if he continued to deteriorate “…Remus hates me now as well…just like Sirius.”

“Harry, Remus does not hate you,” Severus told him, trying to keep his voice steady. “No one hates you.” His chest swelled with pain at Harry’s next strangled words.

“…I don’t want you to hate me though. I didn’t mean to be such a spoiled brat…I killed him…I had to take credit for it. I’m a murderer already.” And again, Harry lost consciousness.

Poppy appeared on the other side of Harry’s bed as Severus dragged in a ragged breath. “He’s getting weaker,” she said as she performed another pointless diagnostic. She still had no idea what was wrong with him—his life signs were fading swiftly.

“I can feel him being pulled away from me,” he said quietly, though it made no sense, but he could feel Harry’s conscious trickling away, just as it had in Sirius’ ice cave. Poppy patted his hand, a gesture that in any other circumstance would have had him snarling at her. He found himself comforted by the touch.

“If you entered his mind again…” Remus suggested as he moved to stand beside Severus; his voice was filled with tears—he had obviously heard Harry’s words. Some part deep inside Severus wished he could comfort the other man, but it would have hurt too much—he couldn’t help Remus when he couldn’t even feel anymore.

“It might only be a stopgap measure. We don’t even know what could be affecting him this way,” Poppy told him tentatively, still waving her wand ominously in the shadows where Harry lay. But her words were a lie. Severus heard what she wouldn’t say.

We don’t know why your son is dying.

But he would hold on to Harry for as long as he was allowed to, and then he would follow straightaway. So, he didn’t acknowledge her words, or Remus’ hand, resting now on his shoulder, imparting a strength he had never thought he would feel again from another person.

“I will help you if you need it, Severus,” Albus, who had arrived only minutes after they’d first brought Harry in, reassured him from next to Poppy. The offer was nothing more than the inane chattering of someone who didn’t know what else to say. Severus didn’t need help to reach his son’s mind.

They watched as Severus tugged his son’s eyes open. It wasn’t necessary but it helped to focus him. The emerald that had been gifted to Harry by his mother, stared blankly up at him, empty and lifeless. A shudder built from deep within Severus’ core. And then his storm was staring into an abyss.

The cave had taken Harry over.

The ice was everywhere and the storm, huddled again in the corner while Black screamed. His screams were louder, more deadly. The heat was intense, even against Severus’ flame. And then there was laughter, an inhuman sound that Severus had only heard once, and it was echoing around the fortress.

The flames wobbled with nausea. It couldn’t be, but it was.

And Black kept coming through the filmy curtain, his icicle held high above his head as he dove toward a tiny black crevice—the laughter was coming from the empty space and with suddenly desperate movements, the flames were diving toward the hole. The storm was seeping into the crack. Just as he’d imagined.

It wasn’t a dream.

Not a dream, not a dream, Black seemed to be chanting maniacally toward the crevice where Harry was being pulled.

And Severus couldn’t stop it. His flames only melted a bigger space.

The laughter became more gleeful.

Harry’s storm became a rushing wind, streaming toward the void.

“No,” Severus breathed, his fingers gripping frantically in the warm blankets covering Harry’s barely rising chest. He wouldn’t let this happen.

Voldemort couldn’t have him.

1996

There was no time for explanations, no time even to think it through.

He had to let Harry go.

Severus gathered his boy in his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around him. With one hand, he cradled the dark head against his chest. The faces around him were swathed in shock, but Severus offered no explanation. He simply brushed his fingers once through Harry’s mop of black hair, and then, closing his eyes against the rush of bile that assaulted him, Severus found Harry’s wisp, still nestled amongst his flames.

Forgive me, Harry, he begged. I will not leave you there, the wavering fingers promised, but there was no answer.

As if he was already dead.

Pain knifed through him as Severus forced himself to do the only thing he could to save his son. He pushed the wisp away, out of his mind.

Their connection was severed.

From deep within the coma that Voldemort had inflicted, Harry cried out. Even unconscious, Harry could feel his mind being ripped from his father’s. And Severus’ body convulsed in violent harmony with his son’s reaction.

Severus blocked out the pain, to pull Harry closer to his chest, imparting comfort in the only way he could now, and he continued to embrace his son as he quieted again, and then he waited.

Waited for the rest of Harry’s soul to be stolen from him.

He clutched his son to him, ignoring the grief that was shaking through his chest; tremors that were rocking Harry silently with them.

--

“ Voldemort.”

Remus, still standing next to a whispering Severus, felt his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

“Voldemort?” Albus questioned from across the bed. “Severus,” he said the name gently, as though Severus had snapped mentally, standing there cradling Harry in his arms like an infant. Severus’ eyes flashed up to meet the Headmaster’s.

“Voldemort has Harry’s soul,” he said quietly, his voice full of grief. “He is gone.”

Remus’ skin drained of all its warmth at Severus’ pronouncement. Both Poppy and Albus were staring at Severus, their eyes wide with alarm. And then Severus was gathering Harry upward, to hoist him fully into his arms. Harry was still breathing, but his eyes were open, the green staring at nothing.

“Where are you going?” Poppy asked, her voice having gone rather shrill with panic. Severus didn’t answer her. And Remus could easily see in her eyes that she believed Severus was about to turn his wand on himself. But he could clearly see that wasn’t Severus’ intention. He was holding Harry with too much intended protection. He was not ready to let Harry go, no matter that he had just said he was already gone.

Remus, his own voice coming out more strangled than he had expected it might, answered for Severus. “He’s going to get Harry back.”

And he had no idea how he knew it. Or that he knew that Sirius had something to do with all of this as well. And it didn’t matter that he had no idea what Severus was planning to do. It didn’t matter that there was likely more danger in this than there had been at Riddle Manor. He had nothing else to live for now.

He would go with his two friends. Where ever they were going to go.

“Severus,” Albus said again, his voice sounding almost as panicked as Poppy’s had. “Voldemort can’t have taken Harry’s soul,” he argued. Severus gazed at him with empty eyes.

“He has though,” he returned dully. “And I will not let him keep my son.”

Albus searched the black eyes, but there was nothing to be found. Severus had left with Harry, just as surely as if both of them were already dead. And so Albus finally nodded, agreeing, without being asked, to give his assistance in a plan Remus knew Albus already understood. Remus looked between them, his heart sinking as he took in Albus’ grim expression and Severus’ vacant stare.

There was a soft rustling in the far corner of the room. All of them snapped around, except Severus, who pulled Harry into his chest even more before turning to face whoever was intruding.

Albus, with a slight wave of his fingers, said softly, “I am certain Professor Snape won’t mind if you wish to come out.”

The rustling grew a bit louder, before Harry’s invisibility cloak was shushed off; Harry’s friends were revealed beneath its silver folds. All three wore identical expressions of defiance—all daring any one of the adults to eject them from the room. “We’re going with Harry,” Ron spoke first, his blue eyes lit with determination. Hermione nodded beside him, while Ginny seemed only able to stare at the boy across the room. Remus was certain her hands were trembling.

Albus didn’t look amused as he contradicted, “It will be too dangerous, and you don’t know where we’re going.”

The three Gryffindors shook their heads. “It doesn’t matter,” Hermione told him firmly. Her eyes strayed to Harry, lying limply in his father’s arms. Her eyes filled with tears. “We should have known something was wrong with him,” she said quietly.

“The fault is mine.”

Severus’ knuckles were white as his fingers curled into Harry’s knees. No one responded. His eyes were too dark. He had taken on the mantle of blame too firmly. Remus, though, knew he shared some of that as well. How could he have missed that something was so clearly wrong with his friend? All of them had reacted to Harry’s attitude with anger and hurt. All of them had failed him miserably.

“You may come,” Severus finally said into the silence. Albus frowned, shaking his head a little. Severus didn’t seem to notice. Albus sighed quietly, sounding defeated.

“Ginny may come,” was his compromise. Ron and Hermione immediately looked ready to argue, but Albus simply shook his head. “We will leave with the light,” he told Ginny. And still, Remus had no idea where they were going to go.

--

Remus straightened his black traveling cloak, running a finger over the Gryffindor crest, while he waited for Albus to finish his conversation with the tiny house-elf who had greeted them as soon as they’d Flooed in.

“The Minister and Master Simon is anxious to see Harry Potter,” Trolley said as she bobbed her head up and down. “Trolley is to escort you to the Minister’s office.”

“Thank you, Trolley,” Albus said with a smile. Albus gestured for Remus to follow as Trolley led the way. The large foyer was crowded and Remus was beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable with all the stares. Grown witches and wizards had been nudging one another and pointing since he’d stepped out of the fireplace.

“It’s Harry Potter!”

“Harry Potter?”

“It’s Snape now…haven’t you heard? That Death Eater is his father…”

“Death Eater? That poor child…”

Remus bristled, his anger brewing on behalf of Severus, who wouldn’t be able to not hear the insulting chatter.

The house-elf’s little head was lifted at a proud angle as they finished their walk through the grand foyer and then they were making their way at a faster pace down the glossy black and white corridors. There were less gawkers now as they moved past numerous doors. Every third of fourth door, Albus asked the elf questions about the contents of the room beyond.

And then they were coming up to their destination. Remus felt a funny swoop in the bottom of his gut as he remembered the last time he’d been here. Sirius had been alive…and Tonks had still wanted him.

He swallowed quickly, stilling the rough moisture that wanted to gather in his eyes. They had stopped. Remus turned his attention back to Albus.

“And what is this room?” he was asking the diligent elf, with wide, interested eyes. The elf was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Before he could answer, Albus had waved his hand unobtrusively in front of Trolley’s face. The elf’s eyes glazed over. “Harry and I have to return to Hogwarts. There is an emergency at Hogwarts. I will contact Rufus this evening to reschedule,” Albus told the elf in a soft, swaying voice. Trolley nodded, his face beaming with a beatific smile, and then Remus and Albus watched as the congenial servant turned and padded away down the hall.

Albus, wasting not a second, had the door open quickly; he ushered Remus in ahead of him. The door stayed open longer than would be necessary for two people to hurry through, but finally the door was closed again. Beckoning Remus with a silent finger, Albus found the door he wanted among the circle of doors, and pushed it swiftly open.

Remus stared at the stone archway as the door clicked closed behind them. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. To see the thing that had taken Sirius. He felt a moment’s pang that if this worked, Harry would have to see it as well.

“Lay him down, Severus.”

Remus turned to see Poppy, fully visible now, directing Severus to a patch of stone floor in front of the fluttering Veil. Severus, moving with soft movements, put his son gently down where Poppy indicated. Pulling off his outer robe, Severus folded it into a neat square and lifted Harry’s head just enough to slide it underneath. Despite the weight bearing down on all of them, Remus found himself smiling as he watched. He swallowed against the grain in his throat as Severus brushed Harry’s hair away from his forehead, exposing the scar—faded now against his skin.

“I will return,” Severus murmured, his fingers still held against the black hair so like his own, likely not aware that the others were watching them intently. And then Severus was standing abruptly, and Remus could see his face shifting to hide everything he was feeling.

Another dull stab at Remus’ chest. Too many friends could be lost in this room.

The spell broken, everyone else began to move. Albus handed Remus a counter potion for the Polyjuice. Remus drank it down in one quick gulp, grimacing as his shape waved back into his own body.

Poppy nodded in approval at him before kneeling carefully next to Harry’s head so that she could closely monitor her Life Charm. Harry was still alive of course, but none of them, not even Albus could predict how long he could stay that way without his pilfered soul. Ginny was kneeling on the other side of his head.

Severus watched only long enough to see her take Harry’s hand tenderly in her own and bring it to rest patiently in her lap. He turned away, toward the beckoning Veil.

Remus didn’t miss the glaze of tears in the obsidian orbs. Without a thought, Remus stepped up to him, and laid a hand on his arm. Severus didn’t move, though his chest filled with a deeply drawn breath. They watched the Veil together; it was calling them.

“Are you ready?”

Remus nodded, taking Severus’ silence as it was meant. Albus stepped close to them, his wand moving in an intricate pattern, very like the time at the Cottage that he’d bound Harry and Severus together. This was different though. He was binding them to this world, to the realm where Albus would stand firmly, ready to bring them back again if they should lose themselves to whatever lay beyond that curtain.

Albus’ wand finally stopped its invisible tracing. Before he could give them any warnings, Severus turned abruptly to Remus. “I am not coming back without my son,” he said, his voice ringing again in its rich velvet. Remus, with all his heart, wanted to protest. Wanted to tell Severus that there were reasons to live…even if Harry-

Remus forced himself to march down all his protests. There was no other choice. Not like before. Harry was gone, and if they couldn’t get him back, Severus had no reason to go on. So he nodded, refusing to give into his tears of grief at the thought of losing both of the men he considered family now.

Severus was looking at him, his jaw quivering so slightly that the movements might have simply been a trick of the dim light. His eyes flicked once more to Harry’s still form. The quiver became more pronounced before he stepped toward the Veil. Remus spared a last look at his young friend, his chest leaden with hurt, and then he moved in time with Severus’ sure steps. No one said a word as they watched the two men stepping blithely into the unknown.

--

“Black?” Severus’ lip curled in disgust at his wife’s suggestion.

Lily, glancing up from feeding Harry, frowned a little, but it wasn’t in anger. She was concerned about his harsh reaction—knee jerk. He loathed the man. Had despised him since they were boys. It had been Black. He had always been his tormentor. It had taken Severus years to realize that James was simply a follower.

Where most saw a leader of the quartet of Marauders, Severus could see James-Potter back then-doing whatever it took to impress the swaggering Black. And that often meant the thorough torment of a scrawny, frightened, socially backward boy. And Severus would never stop hating Black for his crimes.

“It’s who James would choose. They’ll all expect it,” Lily was saying softly and Severus scraped the anger and bitterness from his expression at his wife’s worried look.

Voldemort was getting stronger and Lily was just as aware as he was of the power the dark wizard wielded over his followers. Severus, of course, had seen it with his own eyes. Vomited through days worth of meals after the first time he’d seen a Death Eater tortured to the brink of death, and then brought back again for more.

And Harry, little Harry, Severus reveled as he stared down at his newborn son, would not be caught in the war that raged around him. He needed more time before they could activate the Charm. Time for Lily to recover—time for him to convince himself again that they were doing the right thing. And there could be no suspicions. Least of all from Black, a man who hated Severus even more than Severus hated him in return.

Black would likely meet Voldemort in person just to deliver news of the treachery of one of his trusted.

“Sev?”

Severus focused on Lily’s soft voice, vibrating with concern as her husband lost himself to his musings. Harry had finished his feeding. His eyes were blinking slowly as they met daylight again; his sated expression was fuzzy as his tiny fist found its way to his mouth.

Severus reached down to take his son as Lily re-adjusted her clothes. He brushed his thumb gently against the drop of milk that had dribbled down from Harry’s mouth. He was too young to smile. Severus knew this logically, but he imagined Harry’s mouth curved around his chewed fist as he gazed up at him.

This was what he was protecting.

He would do anything to keep his son safe—including naming his enemy as godfather. It was just a gesture, Severus told himself firmly as he ran his fingers down Harry’s cheek. A useless tradition. Harry was his, no matter who was listed as godfather on a piece of parchment. The man behind the title would mean nothing to his son.

--

Severus tried to right himself inside the space that wasn’t there.

Memories swirled unbidden to this mind. Memories of Harry. Lily. James.

 And Black.

Black’s image dominated memories where he should not have been allowed to enter. He was there as he and Lily were bound in marriage…there again as Lily pushed Harry into the world…by his side as James challenged him to a re-match of Wizard’s Chess.

His mouth was still moving with words that Severus couldn’t decipher, and he looked as angry as he had in Harry’s haunted dreams. And darkness spun through the memories as well. Faces that had been lost to death long ago.

His father, Tobias, still attempting to find Severus’ mottled legs with his belt, even in death. Muggles, who Severus had watched writhing in their last minutes of life, watched him now with betrayal. Death Eaters who had called him comrade sneered at him. Faces, layered one upon another leered, their features contorting in ways that could not be natural.

Severus shivered as an icy breath ran up his arms.

Space formed around them. Pure darkness.

Remus was next to him, just as he had been as they’d entered the nothing together. And Severus could feel his limbs, attached in the right spots. He felt perfectly whole—and perfectly alive. He could even feel the emptiness where he should have felt the comforting wisp. It ached against his flames, and he knew without hesitation that he would not go back without Harry. No matter what that meant. No matter if it meant he would spend eternity in this black space. He would not live without his son. Not ever again.

“Severus…”

Severus turned slightly toward Remus. But the other man was staring straight ahead, his eyes looking unfocused as he looked at nothing. Nothing that Severus could see.

But then, even as Severus watched, the black seemed to be melting into murk. It was wavering into something darker than gray, the still emptiness seeming to sway in a familiar, measured way. The murk was moving toward them. The swaying reminiscent of footsteps, of legs moving in purposeful, insistent steps.

A body.

The body was forming against the ink. Remus’ gasp was harsh as the ink became a man.

“Sirius.”

The name was a whispered shout of joy and the single man suddenly became an ecstatic pair as Remus stepped forward to his meet his lost friend in an embrace. A strange feeling coursed through Severus as he watched Remus hugging Black without restraint—with love.

The two men finally tugged themselves apart, Black’s face smeared with a soppy smile. Remus’ grin matched perfectly. Remus’ expression didn’t waver as he turned to face Severus. Black’s face, on the other hand, stiffened as he took in the man standing before him.

Severus gazed back at him, his face mired in impassivity. This was a means to get Harry back. Nothing more. This was Black. The man that he distrusted so much that he had named him godfather of his most precious gift. Nothing had changed.

He loathed him.

The grey eyes looking back, echoed his hatred.

When time stands still…

Black’s glare seemed to be intensifying with each second, but Severus didn’t back down. Never let your enemy glimpse your jugular, he told himself silently. Black seemed to be holding firmly to the same mantra.

He didn’t even look away as he asked, “What is he doing here, Remus?”

Severus cut Remus off before he could answer. “Even you should be able to understand that it would be extremely foolish to send your friend in here alone,” he drawled, ignoring the faint look of hurt in Remus’ brown eyes to raise his eyebrow in challenge at Black. Black scowled at him, before finally turning to Remus.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” he asked. It looked very much like Remus was trying not to glance at Severus.

“He stayed behind to anchor us,” he explained after a beat.

Severus watched Black’s reaction carefully. He needn’t have bothered.

“Harry told Dumbledore about his dreams then?” Black asked, his face set in a firm grimace of discomfort.

Remus’ mouth parted in surprise, while Severus’ expression didn’t change.

“What do you know of his nightmares?” he demanded. Black’s eyes flicked his way briefly.

“Harry’s been lost to Voldemort then?” he asked of Remus, his features having now lost all of their momentary happiness. His fingertips gripped into his palms as he waited for an answer.

”How did you know that?” Severus inquired coldly, his suspicions spiking as he narrowed his eyes at the Marauder. Black’s face snapped toward him; his curled fingers were held tautly at his sides now.

“This is none of your business, Snape,” he growled. “Harry doesn’t need your help.”

“Sirius-” Remus cautioned quietly, but Black shook his dark head quickly.

“Remus,” he interrupted, sounding almost desperate, “Dumbledore must have understood what was happening. I don’t know how he did it, but Voldemort been trying to steal Harry’s soul.”

“I know, Padfoot,” Remus said gently. “Severus and I came to bring him back.”

Sirius turned again sharply to Severus. “If Dumbledore sent you along because he thinks you can somehow reach Harry because of your Occlumency less-”

“Were you sending the dreams as a warning?” Severus interrupted smoothly, paying no heed to the way the other’s man’s eyelids were snapping.

“Yes,” Black bit out. “Or did you think I was simply trying to give Harry a good fright?” he asked sarcastically.

Severus’ left eyebrow arched. “That is precisely what he thought,” he agreed. Black’s face went a shade lighter as he stared at Severus. “He believes you blame him for your death, and therefore, were attempting to kill him as your revenge,” Severus added harshly, enjoying the way Black’s features were paling with each word.

“But…” the other man floundered, “…of course it wasn’t Harry’s fault. He mustn’t…” His mouth closed slowly as he apparently lost the ability to speak.

Remus put a hand on Black's shoulder, sparing a second to narrow his eyes in disapproval at Severus first. Severus ignored the vague impression that he should have felt guilty for the unnecessary comment. “You know how Harry blames himself for things, Padfoot,” Remus soothed.

“But I was trying to tell him what Voldemort had done,” he whispered. Remus patted his shoulder in a comforting manner; Severus pressed his lips together.

“What were you trying to warn Harry of?” Remus asked him, using the voice that irritated Severus so much. Black looked up at Remus, his light eyes haunted.

“I saw it,” he explained. “I saw them battle…saw him trying to tear Harry’s soul apart.”

“Voldemort took a piece of his soul with him, when he retrieved the piece of his own,” Severus cut in, finally understanding why Harry had cried out in such anguish when what was left of the icy claw had ripped itself from Harry’s storm in the void. And why Harry had continued to be so cold… Even Lily’s and James’ refusal to allow Harry entrance beyond the mist made sense now.

He hadn’t been whole.

“Harry’s been without a piece of his soul since he left the void? And you’ve somehow been in contact with him, Sirius?” Remus was asking in a pained voice, pulling Severus from his guilty musings.

“I could almost feel him…as though I was a part of him sometimes…”

Remus darted a glance toward Severus as Harry’s behavior over the past few days suddenly began to make sense to both of them. Severus’ jaw clenched around the angry accusation he wanted to hurl at Black. But he should have recognized what was happening. He’d driven his son away because he’d been too self-absorbed to understand. How many times had Harry mentioned Black in the past few days, speaking about him with such discomfort?

Severus shook his head angrily. “We are wasting time,” he snapped, at neither one of them in particular. Black’s eyes narrowed.

“Anxious to get back to your potions, Snivellus?” he growled. “How much you must resent Dumbledore for sending you in here to retrieve James’ son.”

Severus didn’t contradict him, though he could hear Remus’ breath drawn in quickly, and then held softly as he waited for him to explode, or perhaps gloat. But Severus didn’t need to gloat. And he couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk Harry on Black’s purported loyalty.

He was shocked however as he heard Remus’ low command, “Don’t call him that, Sirius.” Before Black’s neck could finish snapping back toward his friend, Remus said quietly, “We’re here for Harry.”

Severus watched as Black’s laryngeal prominence bobbed along his neck a few times, and then the Marauder was nodding jerkily. As though in an effort to prove to Remus that he was no longer the bully that Severus knew he would always be, Black turned back to Severus. He no longer scowled, but neither could Severus have said that he was smiling. He gave Severus the tiniest of nods before turning his attention fully to Remus.

“Harry isn’t here,” he said.

Severus only nodded. He, after all, had not expected to find his son waiting for them as they crossed through the veil.

“When Harry and Dumbledore banished Voldemort’s soul,” Black continued, and Remus’ brown eyes lit in surprise at his mistake, but Black didn’t notice as he went right on, “it came to rest in a place that I can only think is hell.” Black’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Though,” he mused, “I don’t know how much worse it can possibly be than this.”

Remus’ brows shot up, obviously not yet caught up with the idea of Black’s enforced stay in this nothingness. Black, sensing his confusion, shrugged.

“I’ve been here since Bellatrix hit me with that spell. I’ve tried…wandered, for Merlin knows how long, in so many different spaces. But they won’t let me go any further…not even to where the likes of Voldemort are allowed to go.”

“You know how to find Voldemort?” Severus asked quickly, ignoring Black’s obvious bitterness, as well as the pain he could read all over the man’s face.

“Of course,” Black returned darkly.

“Then why are we still standing here?” Severus growled, chafing now to stop standing in this empty space. The desolation was clinging to him, just as it had when they’d battled Voldemort in the void. This place felt the same...

“It’s not that simple, Snape,” Black growled right back, his teeth baring so that he reminded Severus of that huge dog. That night near the Whomping Willow. A shiver of residual fear slunk up his back. Severus gritted his teeth and forced himself to remember where he was. He was not a wretched child any longer.

He was about to order Black to get on with it, but Remus interrupted again.

“What do we need to do, Sirius?” he asked, his voice once again soothing, grating more insistently against Severus’ temples.

Black dragged his stormy eyes back to Remus.

“We can’t get in,” he stressed again. Severus stepped forward, his impatience finally overflowing.

“We will get in,” he stated, knowing he would accept no other outcome.

“What the hell do you think you can do that I can’t?” Black demanded, and Severus almost smirked at the childish question.

He restrained himself though to answer calmly, “Lupin and I are bonded together while we remain in this place.” Black’s lip curled upward in disgust, and Severus was surprised that he felt a strong urge to backhand the other man for his unintended insult. He ignored his own unrecognizable feelings to continue placidly, “We will not fail.”

“There are three of us,” Remus added. He had shifted his body a little so that he stood closer to Severus, though he hadn’t completely turned his back.

Sirius grimaced even as he sighed in acceptance of what Remus was implying. “It isn’t as though we are going to simply walk into Voldemort’s lair,” he said with an irritated shake of his head; his dark hair danced in agitation around his shoulders. “There are no straight paths that will lead us to him,” he explained. It took all of Severus’ control not to grab the Marauder and throttle him until he ceased speaking in riddles.

“Do you have any useful information?” he scathed when he felt in sufficient control. Black’s jaw flexed repeatedly, but he didn’t look at Severus.

“Are you certain he’s not working for Voldemort?” Black asked through mashed teeth. Despite himself, Severus stiffened at the old accusation.

Remus closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Padfoot, Severus isn’t here to help Voldemort, and yes,” he stressed as Black opened his mouth to argue, “I am certain he is not working for Voldemort.” Black’s teeth did not separate; he folded his arms over his chest in silent refusal to believe. Remus gazed at Severus, silently asking permission to reveal his secrets. Severus turned away, not wanting to see Black’s delight in Voldemort’s revenge.

“Voldemort discovered he was spying for Dumbledore. He almost died from the torture,” he heard Remus saying quietly. “He’s never been on Voldemort’s side, Sirius,” he added, and Severus had to wonder at the pointed remark. But there was no response from Black, so Severus turned back around.

Black’s arms had fallen limply at his sides. His eyes raked over Severus. Still, he made no comment. With a sharp nod that seemed to be aimed nowhere, he finally turned on his heel and warned without turning his head, “Stay close.” Remus hesitated, his gaze darting swiftly between Severus and Black. Severus, with a terse nod of his head, solved the other man’s dilemma and Remus, with a look of regret, caught up with Black’s quick steps. Severus fell in behind them.

Severus watched the back of Black’s head, grateful that he would never have to see the man after this. He didn’t want to even have to think about old wounds. His chest was beginning to ache with the pain of Harry’s missing wisp. He needed to get his son back—nothing else mattered until he did.

--

Sirius’ heart jerked against his ribs as he turned away from Snape.

Tortured.

The word rang dully in his ears.

There must have been proof. Otherwise Remus wouldn’t have said it with such absolute authority. As though he’d seen at least some part of what had happened to the Slytherin. He wanted to ask Remus so many questions, but not like this. Not in front of Snape, who would never be silent through the many queries.

And whatever he wanted to know, the updates he would have liked to hear, none of it mattered now. Not while Harry was lost. He’d been trying to reach his godson, desperately, though he had no idea how he was even managing it at all.

“Harry can’t really believe I’d be angry with him—that I’d blame him,” Sirius said quietly, knowing that Snape would be able to hear. But he couldn’t not say it. The words made him feel ill and he needed to hear Remus tell him that of course Harry could never believe that about him.

“You know what a rough time he had of it at Hogwarts during the past year,” Remus told him, though he made no effort to dim his voice. It echoed loudly in the darkness. “When you…” Remus’ words became clogged with emotion, “…he was devastated…”

Sirius squeezed his fingers against his friend’s shoulder, knowing first-hand what it meant to lose a friend. “I hope I’ll have a chance to explain,” he said, his chest expanding with pain as he thought of the grief Harry must have experienced. “How long has it been?” he asked.

“Christmas holidays are only a few weeks away,” Remus answered.

It might have been long enough for Harry to have finished grieving for him then. If he hadn’t come back to haunt his nightmares…

Sirius glanced around as memories began to move in slow motion around him. He largely ignored them, though Regulus’ face seemed larger now than it usually did. He couldn’t figure out if his brother looked smug or regretful. Sirius told himself he didn’t really care.

“What’s happening?” Remus asked him sharply. Sirius glanced over at his friend. He was pale, his eyes darting wildly around him. Sirius stopped his quick pace; he heard Snape growl something obscene at him as his black robes brushed up against his back.

“They are your memories,” the great black bat of a man said to Remus and, for a second, Sirius almost thought Snape would not have chosen Remus’ slow death had he been offered it.

“Your life ‘flashing’ before your eyes,” Sirius told his friend, wondering what Remus had seen that had upset him so. “You all right?” he asked, hoping that Snape wouldn’t make a comment about Remus being weak. But Snape said nothing, and in fact, he was watching Remus carefully. Sirius pushed down the twinge of disquiet in his gut while Remus nodded.

“Not exactly all pleasant ones,” he murmured, sounding distant. Sirius nodded in understanding as his mother’s face swam in front of the vast expanse of darkness.

“Lupin!”

Remus started at the harsh word. Sirius turned to glare at Severus, but Severus didn’t even look angry as he waited for Remus to respond. Remus’ eyes were coming back into focus. He shook his head a little. Sirius, turning his back on Snape, took Remus’ elbow and nudged him forward again.

They walked in silence, seeming not to move forward at all, but the darkness surrounding them was becoming lighter, though it was no less muddy. The whispering voices no longer bothered Sirius, though he could hear Remus’ sharp breath of surprise, and even Snape’s breathing changed.

“…going…right,” a soft female voice was fading in and out. “…dad…find Voldemort... …Remus…until…have you….”

The answering silence was menacing.

Sirius’ dark eyebrows shot up. It sounded like Ginny Weasley, and she was clearly where ever Harry was. A pang dug at Sirius as he thought of James, wishing desperately that his friend could have been here to help them.

“Where are they?” he asked softly. Remus swallowed before he answered.

“In front of the veil, with Albus and Poppy.”

“And that’s Ginny…” Sirius murmured.

Remus nodded, smiling a little in affirmation of Sirius’ unasked question. Sirius almost smiled at the thought of his Harry…and his first girlfriend, until his gaze rested on Snape. His lips were mashed together so tightly, they were paling toward ivory. His stance so erect that Sirius would have thought he’d been turned to stone. And yet somehow, Sirius could find nothing but wretched agony in the stance. He found it difficult to draw his eyes from the empty black pools.

“What is this?” Remus asked quietly,

“I was able to reach Harry sometimes in here. I think it was usually when he was weakest. When Voldemort was trying to pull him away. When he was sleeping, it was easier…but that only happened twice.”

“Poppy gave him a dream suppressive,” Remus told him, his eyes inexplicably glued to Snape, who by now had begun moving again.

“You don’t know where you’re going,” Sirius called to him, though he wasn’t going to admit that he wouldn’t need to. Snape’s black robes didn’t pause in their oddly slow-motion flapping. And not giving him a chance to argue anymore, though he found he didn’t much care to, Remus had grabbed his arm and was tugging him after Snape.

--

Remus searched for something comforting to say to Severus, though he knew he wouldn’t say anything at all. Not after the promise he’d made to Severus, though he didn’t particularly enjoy Severus’ cutting remarks; they made him feel too much like they’d stepped back months in time. He knew it was only a show for Sirius, but that made it no easier to accept.

And he’d argued with Severus for quite awhile as they’d waited for Albus to lead them to the Ministry. About Sirius. Even though Severus had not really believed that they would find Sirius intact. But Severus wouldn’t be swayed on this point regardless. He didn’t trust that Sirius would be willing to help them if he knew the truth.

“Can you tell me with absolute certainty that Black will not turn against Harry if he learns that he has been my son along?” Severus had asked.

He had nodded in finality as soon as Remus paused. Remus had wanted to tell him, of course Sirius would never renounce his relationship with Harry, but in truth, he couldn’t be certain. Not when Sirius had loved James so much, and had even from time to time, almost forgotten that Harry wasn’t James. And so he’d agreed, no matter that the guilt of the lie was breaking his heart as he moved now beside his friend.

Sirius had a right to know. He was Harry’s godfather. But Severus had been unmovable against that argument. The knowledge of why Sirius was chosen made Remus ache just as much as the lie. There were simply too many lies, and Remus wondered for the first time as he watched Sirius studying Snape’s dark head, if Sirius would have ever been able to forgive James.

Remus blinked rapidly as he realized Severus and Sirius had both stopped moving. Their eyes were turned toward a misty whiteness that seemed too far away to be so very close.

“They’re guarding the entrance,” Sirius said, indicating the two silver forms poised together as sentinels. A doe and a stag. Remus’ eyes went immediately to Severus. He was staring intently at the softly glowing pair.

“James…Lily,” Remus heard himself saying in a hushed voice, and he could see Severus tensing slightly at the unintentional observation.

“I’ve never made it any closer than this,” Sirius told him as he nodded sadly. And yet Remus felt sure that he could touch them, if he only leaned forward a little bit.

“If the two of you are planning on sightseeing, perhaps I should go on without you.”

Severus’ voice cut in harshly through the emptiness. Remus sighed without a sound. Sirius spun to glare at Severus.

“You stopped first,” he snapped. “And you need us. Harry isn’t about to trust you to help him. Not after how you’ve treated him for the past five years,” he said pointedly. Remus stomach twisted a little as he watched Severus’ jaw stiffen. But the Potions Master didn’t respond. He pivoted away from them and stalked onward, his black robes oddly still as he moved.

“Sirius, that isn’t helping,” Remus chided softly as he and Sirius followed, Sirius with a last look toward the doe and stag. Sirius shot him an irritated look.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, not quite as softly. “He’s been a complete bastard to Harry ever since his first day at Hogwarts. Harry has got a right not to trust him,” Sirius reminded him angrily, and Remus knew by the fisted hands at Severus’ side, that he had heard.

“Voldemort isn’t going to let Harry go without a fight, wouldn’t you agree?” Remus asked, trying to keep the anxiety about both Harry and Severus from spilling over.

“I assume he’ll try to suck our souls away as well,” Sirius replied, his voice shivering a little.

“We’ll be stronger if we can work together, Padfoot,” Remus told him. When Sirius snorted at the very idea of working together with Severus, Remus added, “I know the two of you have a history that neither one of you is willing to let go, but this is for Harry, Sirius.” Sirius didn’t answer; he was still staring straight ahead. Wishing that just for once, Severus didn’t have better hearing than the bat that Harry teased him about being, Remus said as quietly as he could, “Harry needs you.”

Remus cringed as he watched Severus’ ever-smooth steps waver, but then he was striding as assuredly as ever. Remus squeezed his eyes together briefly with his thumb and forefinger, wishing he could just explain to Severus that he had nothing to fear from Sirius. Harry was Severus’ son, and nothing would change that. Harry would always need him. But even as the thought secured itself in his mind, Remus’ heart filled with remorse at the thought of the last words he’d exchanged with Harry—Severus’ last exchange with Harry had been even worse.

Harry had believed that his father had sent him away. And he seemed no longer to understand that Remus considered him as dear a friend as Sirius and James had been. Harry had cowered, Severus had explained, in the trappings of his mind, waiting for his godfather to kill him.

He’d even begged Severus not to hate him. He thought they all hated him.

--

Severus was rapidly failing in his attempt to keep his emotions under control. Black’s words had cut him, piercing into him over and over as they repeated themselves in his mind. Harry isn’t about to trust you… Harry has a right not to trust you…

Remus’ words of reassurance to Black taunted the first. The truth of them sliced through all of Severus’ resolve. Harry would need Black..

Harry would know that Black did not hate him, just by his presence here. He would trust him, without question. Black had never done anything to dissuade Harry from that. Neither had Remus.

Severus, thought, had failed him. Had not only allowed Voldemort to take him, but he had actually cut Harry off, only moments after Harry had begged him not to hate him. Severus tried to draw in a steadying breath as he buried the anger that was rising to overtake his flames. Black had been invading Harry’s mind for days. Both he and Voldemort. And all Severus had seen was a childish reaction to fame. And then his own insecurities had pushed Harry away. When his son had needed him the most.

He would not make that mistake twice.

Severus halted. He closed his eyes briefly before turning around. He forced himself to speak as civilly as he could under the circumstances. “Black, you claim you have been to the space where Voldemort resides?”

Black’s eyes narrowed a bit. “I’ve been there,” he said with a curt nod.

“The danger?” Severus inquired. Black’s eyes darted once to Remus, who gave him an encouraging nod. Black shrugged a little.

“I’ve only been there when I couldn’t avoid it,” he answered slowly. “It’s hard not to want to become lost to what you feel when it’s near.”

Severus gazed at him, taking his time to decipher Black’s words. “But you could not enter, even though you might have wished to?” he asked after a moment of contemplation.

“I don’t think anyone who enters, wishes to,” Black answered, and though the reply sounded remarkably like the riddle-speak which Albus preferred, Severus did not think Black’s ambiguity was purposeful.

“We will need to remain unaffected by its temptations,” Severus inferred. Remus nodded thoughtfully, but Black was shaking his head.

“It won’t be so simple,” he disagreed. “I already told you that it will be nearly impossible to get into where he is.”

“Perhaps for you,” Severus sneered before he could stop himself. Black’s grey eyes flashed in anger.

“It will be difficult for me as well,” Remus said quickly, stepping forward so that he was standing in the empty space between the old enemies.

Black didn’t stop frowning. “Dumbledore sent you in here to help Remus,” he said in reminder to Severus, having no idea that Dumbledore hadn’t been the puppeteer this time. But the claim irritated Severus nonetheless. “So, either actually be helpful or go back to Dumbledore,” Black finished, his own mouth now curled in his own mocking sneer.

With eyes narrowed to slits, Severus opened his mouth to spit out a retort, but Remus held a hand in front of Severus’ face, using his other hand to rest firmly on Black’s chest. Remus’ eyes were holding his friend’s as he said clearly, “He can’t go without me, Sirius.” Black’s frown changed a little as he took that in. Remus continued on, “And Severus will do whatever he has to do to get Harry back. I give you my word on that, Padfoot.” Remus’ didn’t give Black a chance to voice an opinion on that as his head swung around to glare at Severus.

“Isn’t that true, Severus?” he asked in his hardest tone.

Remus, in that moment, was extremely fortunate that he’d spent the last months securing himself as one of his son’s closest friends. That was the only thing stopping Severus from snarling back at the other man until he was cringing from it. That, and the defeating fact that Harry needed Black. So Severus controlled his temper and nodded smoothly.

“I will not go back without him,” he repeated his earlier vow, meaning it even more than he had as they’d stood before the Veil. It did not matter that Harry would likely not forgive him for abandoning him—something he’d promised his son he would never do. Severus pushed firmly against the chill creeping against his flames.

Surprise had ghosted across Black’s face as he stared, and for a frantic moment, Severus wondered what his face had revealed in that moment. But Remus was not looking at him any differently. He was simply nodding in acceptance. Severus flicked his robe tails out of his way as he spun around.

“We must continue,” he told the other two, hoping that his voice sounded as flat to them as it did in his head.

None of them spoke again as they continued toward the space where the nothingness was leading them. They were moving faster now, even as they remained stagnant. And Severus’ flames were decidedly cooler. But he felt warm. Happiness was somewhere out there, in front of him.

All he had to do was reach for her.

Lily looked just as beautiful as she always had. At her loveliest…her most appealing as she stood in front of the open window. The moonlight was streaming in, washing over her rounded belly. Her small hands rested lightly on the under curve, tautening the almost sheer shirt as the bottom edge fluttered in the slight breeze. She seemed to be glowing.

And Severus was walking toward her. She smiled at him, her lips a perfect pink, her cheeks blossoming with a faint blush as Severus came to stand behind her. He put his strong hands against her shoulders, running them lightly down her arms to bring them to rest on her belly, above her delicate hands.

The two of them holding their son.

And then, he was being thrown violently away from them. And before he could try to grasp onto something to stop it, Severus was sitting on nothing, shaking his head in dazed confusion.

“Tonks,” Remus was whispering, on the same forlorn breath as Black was moaning, “Reg.”

And Severus’ heart began to pound in a painful rhythm as he heard that same maniacal, inhuman laughter, and the screams of familiar agony melting through the blackness.

Time passes in its own way…

Dark arms embraced him as he tried to pull himself backward, away from the cold screaming laughter, and the heat that was smashing against his chest. Severus couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t need to breathe. Not anymore. Harry was inside him, moving his chest up and down in a slow, quiet rhythm.

“It’s all right, Dad,” Harry assured him. “I’m here.”

And somehow he was.

The jagged rip in his wall of fire was filled now, taken up by Harry’s comforting wisp. Just as it should be. Severus was whole again. Harry was all right.

“I didn’t need Sirius.” Harry was smiling at him, gently chiding him for thinking that Black, of all people, was necessary to him somehow.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Severus asked gently, pulling Harry closer so that he could inspect him, to make sure that Voldemort hadn’t done anything to harm his son.

“Of course, I am. Voldemort isn’t anything in here,” Harry told him. “He’s nothing anymore.”

“He was keeping you here?” Severus asked, his fingers clamping tighter against his son’s shoulders. Harry seemed all right.

“I was waiting for you,” Harry explained with a small shake of his dark head. “Remus came as well?” he asked, looking around behind Severus. Severus nodded, even as Remus moved to stand beside him. Harry smiled at him.

“We were so worried about you, Harry,” Remus said with a gentle smile.

“I’m all right,” Harry repeated. He looked between Severus and Remus. “I’m ready to go home now,” he told them, his emerald eyes filled with eagerness. Severus nodded quickly.

“Of course, Harry,” he agreed. Harry smiled again. Severus, his heart filled with love for his son, pulled Harry to him. Harry wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tightly. Severus returned the embrace solidly, while Remus remained beside him, still smiling.

--

Sirius’ eyes widened as Harry came through the darkened mist.

Harry.

“Sirius,” Harry breathed just as Remus had when they'd first met in his space, and then Harry was rushing toward him. Sirius stumbled backward as he caught his godson in his arms.

“Harry,” Sirius crowed as he pulled Harry in closer. Harry squeezed him tightly, and Sirius hoped he would never let go. All the emptiness and the bleak non-time he’d spent here was washed away. “Are you all right?” he asked quickly, pulling Harry back a little to study his face. Harry grinned up at him.

“I’m brilliant, Sirius!” he enthused. “I found you and now I can come live with you, just like we planned.”

Sirius stared at Harry in confusion. Harry nodded eagerly.

“You can come with us, Sirius. I know you can. And now that’s Voldemort’s gone, Wormtail has been found out. You’re free, Sirius!” he said excitedly. Sirius could only stare, not daring to believe that what Harry was saying was true. But then Remus was stepping over to them. Harry threw his arms around Remus, who looked happier than Sirius had ever seen him.

“It’s true, Padfoot,” he agreed over Harry’s shoulder. “Dumbledore designed it so you could come back. And now that we have Harry, everything’s okay now.”

Harry pulled himself away from Remus and the two of them, his best friend and his godson stood in front of him, their happiness overwhelming. He was free. And Harry was his again.

--

Remus watched helplessly as Tonks faded away from him. He could do nothing as he lay there sprawled on his back. At least he thought he was on his back. He seemed to be staring upward. But he was surrounded on all sides by black, making it very difficult to be certain. He could just make out Severus, just beyond his reach. Sirius was a little farther away, and he was lying, curled on his side, looking as though he was in a great deal of pain.

Remus tried to call out to both of them, but his throat was too dry. And then the emptiness was filled with laughter so chilling that the hairs along the curve of Remus’ neck erected themselves frantically. But the cruel humor was taken over by the screams that Remus knew instantly belonged to Harry. And Remus could picture him writhing in agony, just as he had in his bed only hours before. Remus scrambled as quickly as he could back to his feet, but even when he knew he must be upright again, he felt completely disoriented.

He pushed the dizziness aside, turning to Severus, who was standing as well, his hand already on his wand. Remus was surprised to find his wand in his hand as well. Reflexes.

“Harry?” Sirius was questioning in panic, his own wand drawn and pointing toward the horrible sounds. Severus stood, fear and anger making his fingers tremble. Remus went to stand between his two friends. They closed the distance so that they were shoulder to shoulder, facing off the evil that was swooping closer.

The sound was growing louder, but the laughter was winning now. The trio leveled their wands in the air. The darkness was shifting; the patterns of light swirling grey and purple in front of them. Just as it had when the mists had released Sirius.

Again a body seemed to be forming in the stillness.

Harry. And he was the one who was laughing. His head thrown back, his face split in a grin of pure happiness.

“Harry?” Severus questioned tentatively as Harry seemed to solidify. Though it seemed impossible, Harry’s face filled with joy. And then he was rushing forward, flinging himself at Severus. Severus, his own features slacking in relief, pulled Harry toward him, gripping him tightly. “Harry,” he breathed and Remus thought he saw a quick smile grace Severus’ lips.

“Dad,” Harry greeted into Severus’ shoulder, and Remus tensed. He could feel Sirius’s body flinch beside his.

“Dad?” he repeated, sounding strangled. Harry, who obviously hadn’t noticed Sirius, pulled back abruptly from Severus’ arms. Now it was Severus’ who went rigid. But Harry, his lips once again pulling into a huge grin, could only stare at Sirius.

“Sirius,” he said, sounding numb and elated, all in the same breath. And then seeing the look of shock on Sirius’ face, he looked uncertainly at Severus, and then back again at his godfather. “He’s my father. We found out a few months ago,” he explained. Sirius continued to stare at Harry. Then his eyes narrowed and he turned to glare at Severus. Severus put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry stepped closer to Severus with a small smile. “Is that all right with you, Sirius?” he asked, sounding very worried. “I still need you as my godfather, just as I always did.”

Sirius looked back and forth between the Snapes. “Does he treat you well, Harry?” he asked grimly. Harry nodded hastily. Sirius nodded and then pierced Severus with a look that should have shriveled the other man. “See that you always do, Snape, or you’ll answer to me,” he warned, though there seemed to be a gentle smile behind Sirius’ grey eyes as he noted how happy Harry seemed.

Severus nodded without hesitation. “I understand, Black. You have nothing to fear. And I will not attempt to keep Harry from seeing you.”

Sirius did smile now, and with that small gesture, Harry threw himself at Sirius. Sirius laughed happily and returned the embrace. And though Severus didn’t smile, he watched the pair in satisfaction.

“We will take you home now, Harry,” he said after a moment. Sirius and Harry grinned, before turning to Remus.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Remus?” Sirius demanded cheerfully, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Remus said nothing as he stared at the three men he cared so much about. At Severus, nearly smiling at Sirius and Harry, arm in arm. At Sirius, grinning in acceptance of what should have been devastating news. And Remus stared at Harry, who shouldn’t have been here at all. He couldn’t be here.

And feeling his breath freezing in his chest, Remus shook his head rapidly.

“What’s wrong, Moony?”

Sirius’ grin was faltering as he cocked his head. Remus took a step back, not moving at all from the artificial happiness in front of him. Harry was staring at him, in bewildered betrayal.

“It’s okay, Remus,” he assured him. “You heard Sirius. He’s happy for me.”

Sirius nodded in fervent agreement. “I understand that you didn’t know how I’d take the news, Remus. I forgive you.”

Remus shook his head, feeling wildly anxious as Severus took a step toward him. “Harry forgives you as well, Remus,” he said with a gentle nod.

“Harry’s not here,” Remus tried to tell him, wanting Severus to understand that this was a trick. That Harry had to be trapped with Voldemort, but Severus shook his head.

“Harry is here. We are all happy,” he insisted, his voice hardening a little. A strange gleam began to shine in his black eyes when Remus kept pedaling his feet backward.

“We are taking Harry home,” Sirius told him, his jaw clenching around the hopeful words.

“All of us are going. Everyone is together now,” Harry agreed, his steps fluid and graceful as he walked with Severus and Sirius flanking him. “Come with us, Remus,” Harry commanded, the words almost a hiss. Remus shivered.

“No,” he refused. “You aren’t Harry.”

Faux-Harry smiled; his lips were much too thin. “Oh, but I am,” he cajoled. “Can’t you recognize me, Remus?” he asked, with wide green eyes. “Don’t you see how you’ve failed me? You drove me to Voldemort, Remus,” he lamented. His eyes were glistening with tears now.

“No! I didn’t,” Remus denied desperately. He couldn’t let Harry believe that he hated him. He looked wildly at the three men, all of them nodding in horrid contentment.

“You can save him, Remus. Take him home,” Sirius whispered.

“You owe it to him,” Severus chimed in, standing so close to Sirius that Remus began to sway.

This wasn’t real.

“No,” he said quietly. He forced his fear to shift to strength. “You aren’t here,” he told them. “None of you are real.”

All three faces twisted with ugly, malicious hatred. The look on Harry’s gentle features made Remus’ stomach turn in revulsion, but he didn’t give, even as the faux-Harry stepped so close, Remus could feel his icy breath against his cheeks.

“It’s me,” the traitor shouted. “Take me home!” he demanded, shoving his face into Remus’.

Remus didn’t blink. Didn’t allow himself to so much as breathe crookedly. He held the darkening gaze—the emerald was turning muddy as he watched. “No,” Remus repeated as blood crept into the eyes. “You aren’t here.” Over and over Remus said the words, until eventually he had to close his eyes as the masks of the three, morphed and melted into a face so hideous that Remus couldn’t stand to see it.

“Take me home!” the snake-Harry screeched maniacally. Remus opened his eyes again. The eyes were slits of red now.

“You aren’t Harry,” he said. Rage filled the snake’s face and he began to scream. The scream became tangible…a vapor roiling and twisting from the lipless maw. And then the face was pure mist, dissipating into blank nothingness.

And Remus was staring up at black again.

His chest was rising and falling in gentle, careful rhythms. With silent alarms warning him, Remus sat up so fast, he felt suddenly lightheaded. Severus was still there, sitting only an arms’ length from him. He looked absolutely peaceful, staring in unblinking bliss at nothing. Remus swung his head around to search for Sirius.

He was still there as well. Remus had never seen his friend looking so happy. He was on his back, still out of Remus’ reach, staring in the same way as Severus. Remus stood slowly, carefully studying each movement, trying to assure himself that they were his own. Nobody owned these movements.

He knelt in front of Severus, bringing his hands slowly to rest on his shoulders. Hesitantly, but knowing he needed to do this quickly, Remus gave Severus’ a sharp shake. Severus’ head waggled with the movement, but the peace did not break.

“Severus,” he urged, “it isn’t real. Harry isn’t there with you.”

He made his fingers dig deeper into Severus’ shoulders as he lost any desire he had to be gentle. Another sharp jostle. Severus’ mind stayed firmly fixed with his son. Cursing himself for never taking the time to learn Legilimency, Remus had to take the only other course that he could. Pulling his arm back, he cocked it and after only the shortest of hesitations, Remus palm cracked across Severus’ pale cheek. Severus’ face rocked with the impact, but nothing changed.

Remus sat in dejection on his heels as he stared at his friend. At Harry’s father. And he suddenly felt very cold. He could guess what Severus was experiencing in his zombie-like bliss. The messages that were being transferred to him, would be almost impossible to combat. And it would be cruel to try.

Hating himself, Remus dug his fingernails into his palms. “Harry doesn’t want you, Severus.” Remus swallowed so loudly, it rattled against the black silence. The dazed expression on Severus’ face didn’t change at all. Remus leaned in toward him, his fingernails pressed into his own flesh enough that they could draw blood. “Severus,” he said, much louder now, “Harry doesn’t want to come home. You failed him.”

Severus’ features remained fixed, but there was a flash of understanding in the obsidian eyes. Remus nodded pointedly, pitching his voice so that it echoed in the cavernous hole. “He believes that you hate him, because you sent him away, Severus,” Remus pressed, despising the cruelty in his voice. But he thought he detected a faint twitch around Severus’ mouth. The glaze was turning cold, so Remus made himself forge onward.

“You don’t deserve him.”

--

Harry’s eyes were filled with hatred, the emerald so charred that it was unrecognizable.

“Forgive me, Harry,” Severus begged without shame, not even caring that Remus was sneering at him in disdain.

“You don’t deserve him,” Remus snarled, his teeth bared to attack. Severus took a step toward his son.

“Harry,” he pleaded, his arms outstretched as he implored in undignified desperation. But Harry lifted his chin, and with his face filled with disgust, he stepped away.

He went to stand beside Black.

“I should never have forgiven you,” Harry spat. “You don’t deserve to be forgiven,” he agreed derisively with Remus, shaking his head. Black put his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Harry doesn’t need you, Snivellus,” he said with jarring finality.

“No,” Severus whispered. But they ignored him. Harry ignored him.

Harry turned away, flanked by his godfather and his friend, leaving Severus alone in the darkness.

“Harry,” he cried out, his voice strangled and damp. He wanted to run after them. He needed to explain, to beg if he had to. But he couldn’t move. Vices ensnared his wrists, and he couldn’t get away, no matter how hard he thrashed. There was nothing there. Only black.

“Severus,” a familiar voice tried to soothe, him but Severus turned his head away from the comfort. There was nothing without Harry. He’d lost everything. But the voice wouldn’t relent. “Severus,” it tried again, “It’s Remus. Harry isn’t here. It was Voldemort.”

Voldemort.

Forcing the icy tendrils away from his storm, Severus tried to focus on the name. Voldemort had been here? Not Harry? He repeated the refrain.

Not Harry. Voldemort.

“Harry still needs you, Severus. We need to find him,” Remus was telling him. “Voldemort is trying to keep you away,” he continued, and Severus’ storm roared.

“Harry,” he gasped, and this time the name brought a spark of hope to Severus’ chest, and his vision seemed to be clearing. The blackness divided into colors and shapes. A face. Remus was staring at him, and Severus realized the vices were simply Remus’ fingers. Drawing in a deep breath, Severus shook against the restraints.

With a sigh of relief, Remus loosed his hold. He leaned away so that Severus wouldn’t have to. “Are you all right?” Remus asked quickly, his face a discomfiting mixture of gratitude and regret.

“What happened?” Severus asked, ignoring the query, even as he moved to stand. He ignored Remus proffered hand as well. Remus took his elbow anyway as he wobbled and assisted until Severus was firmly upright again.

“Voldemort was sending messages to us, I believe. I believed, for a few minutes, that Harry was all right. He simply walked up to me, and wanted to go home,” Remus explained as he pulled his hand back.

Severus stared at him. The flooding pain was beginning to recede as reality pulled him to safety again. “I had a similar experience,” he admitted after a moment. Remus nodded, showing no surprise at all.

“I assumed you had,” he said softly, and then pointed to where Black was sprawled on his back, seemingly oblivious to the other two. “You looked like that,” Remus told him. He shifted uncomfortably, and Severus narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion.

“What is it, Lupin?” he snapped. Remus pursed his lips, looking slightly irritated.

“I saw exactly what I wanted to see regarding Harry,” he said finally. “Did you?”

Severus nodded without explanation. He wouldn’t tell the other man how much pain he still felt at words that had not even been spoken. Remus was watching him, his eyes studying his slight movements.

“It was too easy,” he said carefully. “You and Sirius were with him and all of you reacted just as I wish you would, but I knew even as I watched the three of you, that it was impossible. I started arguing with the fake Harry and all three of you got very angry, insisting that they were real. That Harry wanted to go home. When I’d ignored them for long enough, I found myself here again,” he explained.

“And you did not wish to infer that I was weak because I could not see it as false?” Severus demanded, not understanding Remus’ look of regret. But Remus shook his head.

“…Severus…I told you that Harry didn’t want you. That you didn’t deserve him,” he said very quietly. “I didn't know how else to break you free from Voldemort's images. I’m sorry.”

Severus took an involuntary step backward. “That was you?” he demanded, but quickly straightened up and closed off his features as he heard the way his voice caught on the last word. Remus nodded, looking particularly miserable. Severus turned away, gesturing dismissively to Black, grateful for the distraction. “Do you intend to bring Black out of his vision as well?” he inquired, keeping his voice purposely harsh. He heard Remus sigh behind him.

“Severus,” he said quietly, “Sirius isn’t a threat to you.”

Severus didn’t respond, and after a longer silence than Severus would have preferred, Remus came around to stand by his side, just as he had in his earlier vision. But this time they were both staring at Black.

“It might be easier to bring Sirius back with Legilimency,” Remus suggested. Severus glanced at him sharply. Remus met his gaze. “It was very difficult to make you believe that Harry wasn't really with you,” he explained. Severus glared at Remus for a few more seconds, before nodding curtly. He did not wish to linger here any longer than was necessary, and whether or not Black’s presence was required here, he knew Harry would not want him to left in this state.

Remus stepped back to give him room, and keeping Harry’s face firmly in the forefront of his mind, Severus knelt down beside Black. Speaking quietly so that his voice would remain smooth, Severus chanted the spell and found himself peering into Harry’s joyous face, with Black and Remus beside him. The three of them were loping along, presumably looking for the exit. Severus frowned at his own absence. Oddly though, he felt nothing as he looked at the eagerness in the faux-Harry’s face.

Keeping his shields out of curiosity’s way, Severus reached down into Black’s accessible thoughts. Overwhelming love spilled over him. Harry’s took up every crevice in Black’s mind. But there was also emptiness, and despair. The pain that he’d experienced when he’d lost his godson—again. The false flood of joy that Black had felt when Harry had found him in the emptiness…the same emotions that he’d experienced when he’d asked Harry to live with him so long ago now. And the part of Severus’ mind that he allowed to remain truthful ached for the other man’s pain. And for Harry’s as he finally began to understand what Black had meant to him. When Harry had been so alone.

And Severus knew that he would never try to take that away from Harry. No matter what it might mean for him.

Though it was more difficult than Severus would have believed, Severus latched onto Black’s happiness, amplifying it and sending parts of his conversation with Remus to Black, to make him understand that Harry still needed him, that he still remained Voldemort’s captive. Black’s happiness fought against the truth, but as Remus’ words repeated themselves over and over, the happiness slowly turned to anger for Harry’s plight.

Black was becoming aware again, his mind seeping out of the hole he had dipped himself into. Severus took himself out before Black could realize he was there. And then Severus found himself staring at Black as the other man struggled to sit up. Severus automatically reached a hand to assist, but he realized what he was doing just shy of actually touching Black’s arm. He pulled his hand back abruptly; Black didn’t seem to notice.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded as Remus bent down to pull him up. Uncertain whether or not Black was referring to his mental presence, or to his vision of Harry, Severus did not answer. Remus quickly explained Voldemort’s attempts to thwart their rescue of Harry.

“How did we get out of it?” Black asked as soon as Remus had finished. “It felt just as real as the other visions do.” Remus glanced between the other two men, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“After a few minutes, I could tell it wasn’t real…you…well you weren’t yourself, Sirius. It was a little more difficult for you and Severus,” he finally said with a shrug. Black squinted his eyes in confusion, but then shook his head, brushing aside any further explanations.

“Did you see something else before that?” he questioned, not looking at Severus. “Something that you want…that’s always what I see,” he said quietly. Remus nodded, glancing over at Severus, who gave a small nod of his own. But of course, none of them elaborated.

“Voldemort knows we’re here then,” Remus said for all of them.

“And this could still be his own imagination,” Black said quietly. Severus’ black eyes flicked sharply to the Marauder. Black gazed back at him, his eyes blinking rapidly, and Severus wondered if the part of his mind that had been touched by him, was struggling to make sense of what Black couldn’t really understand. “How well do you know Voldemort’s mind?” Black finally asked stiffly, looking as though he would rather be looking anywhere but at Severus.

“Sirius,” Remus chided quickly, but Severus held up a hand.

“Well enough,” he answered Black’s question without heat, and Remus’ mouth closed slowly. There was very little point in pretending that he had not been among Voldemort’s elite. “He will twist our minds until we can no longer be certain that we are who we believe ourselves to be,” he elaborated. Black swallowed, his face taking on an anxious hue. But the man was a Gryffindor, and whatever else Severus knew him to be, Black was not a coward.

“We have to make another attempt,” Black said, though he wasn’t speaking strictly to Severus alone anymore.

“The next assault will be more subtle,” Severus warned, glancing without meaning to at Remus. From the safety of his thoughts, with Voldemort’s trickery dormant for the moment, Severus could easily see how wrong his vision of Harry had been. Of how desperate the interaction had been. It would be harder to detect the next round. Even for Remus, who had obviously seen even more unbelievable scenarios than he had.

His discomfort reaching egregious levels, Severus closed his mind so that he would give nothing away and suggested slowly, “Voldemort’s task will be more difficult if I link our minds together.” Black stared at him in bewilderment. Remus’ eyebrows shot up along his hairline, but Severus shook his head. “It is a simple Spell, and temporary,” he explained, hoping Remus would understand that this would nothing like what he and Harry had shared. “I have used the spell before,” he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral. Both Remus and Black understood the vague declaration.

Black narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want to participate in a spell you’ve used to torture people in Voldemort’s name,” he said, accusation creeping into his tone.

“Lupin and I will do it alone, if you prefer,” Severus told him simply, not even bothering to garner Remus’ permission, or deny Black’s words. He didn’t owe him an explanation.

“Sirius, there are no other options. You were nearly lost to Voldemort’s manipulation,” Remus spoke up as he looked between them. It was obvious that Black wanted to protest, but Severus imagined that he was picturing Harry’s face again, and he didn’t argue further. He did, however, glance suspiciously at Severus.

“I will not enter your thoughts,” Severus told him curtly, before he could insult him with the question. Black nodded reluctantly, and with another firmer nod from Remus, Severus gestured the two men forward. Remus moved without hesitation. Black’s single step forward was much slower than Severus thought was possible. As soon as they were standing in front of him, Severus commanded with a familiar wave of his wand, “Nostrum sententia es unus.”

And immediately as though the three individual minds squeezed themselves together with a suctioned, pop, Severus could feel Remus and Black with him. But they were still fully aware, fully separate as well. The other two men were shaking their heads, looking just like animals attempting to dispel the last droplets of water from their fur.

“Shall we proceed?” Severus inquired as soon as they looked settled.

Two affirmatives met his ears, even as a chill settled over Severus. Severus erected his shields, using his flames to push the icy sensation away. The ice persisted. There was no warmth as there had been before. Harry didn’t reappear before him.

Severus was standing in a cave, the sheer cavern he’d seen in Harry’s mind. And Voldemort was smiling down at them, his lipless mouth stretched grotesquely. Severus’ heart froze with the icicles.

“Harry,” he and Black breathed together. Harry didn’t even twitch.

He lay at Voldemort’s yellowed feet, bound at wrists and ankles, his eyelids squeezed so tightly closed that it could only have been magic holding them together. Severus lurched toward him. He was flung back again, to crash into Remus, who steadied him even as he gasped at the sight before them.

“Ah, ah, ah, Severus,” Voldemort drawled, shaking his flaking head at him mockingly. “I’m afraid you aren’t allowed here. You must be dead to enter,” he explained, his red eyes full of feigned sadness.

“Let him go,” Black demanded furiously. Voldemort’s mouth widened further.

“Sirius Black,” he whispered quietly. “It’s such a pity that Harry can’t hear you. I am certain that he would have wanted to give you a proper greeting,” he said as he gestured to Harry’s lifeless form. “And,” he continued slowly, “he has so much to tell you.”

“You can’t keep him from us,” Black told the other. Voldemort appeared not to hear him.

“Did you know,” he went on in a conversational tone, “that my Severus is Harry’s father, Sirius?”

Time ends here

Black’s eyes widened, and then he flung himself around to face Severus, his fists clenched in fury. He took an angry step forward. “I knew you were loyal to him, you bastard,” he accused, bringing his wand up sharply so that the end was only a centimeter from Severus’ nose. Severus, though he was almost certain that Black couldn’t kill him in this place that wasn’t any place at all, cast a silent Expelliarmus. Black’s wand twisted from his fingers and fell soundlessly to the thick ice.

Black’s face contorted so that he looked quite murderous. “This is the best you and your master could come up with?” he demanded as he brought his useless hand back to rest in a fist against his leg. “Telling me that you’re Harry’s father in the hopes that I’ll be so horrified, I’ll leave him to rot in hell with Voldemort?” he asked in derision. Severus said nothing, giving Black the opportunity to vent his anger in the hope that he would deflate more quickly that way. But Severus’ silence only seemed to fuel Black’s fury.

“How dare you insult James’ this way, Snivellus, after what he did for you? I knew he was fool to trust you. He should have tossed you out on your arse,” he spat, and Severus found it very difficult to listen to him talking about his relationship with James. He forced himself to remain aloof as Black continued on with his rant.

“It was a ruse all along, wasn’t it? Was it simply a way for you to get your filthy hands on Lily? Is that what you’re going to tell me next, Snape? That she actually let you touch her? Or better…that you just took what you wanted?” he snarled, and with that final offense, Severus drew back his hand, a fisted weapon now, and then his balance went off kilter as Remus caught his wrist on its way back toward the Marauder. Snape attempted to shake his arm free, but Remus’ grip was much stronger than he had anticipated. Damn him for being a werewolf!

“Release me, Lupin,” Severus growled. Remus’ eyes snapped his ire.

“Not until you have yourself under control,” he retorted. Severus narrowed his eyes. How dare Lupin order him about? “Do you really think Harry would appreciate your hitting his godfather?” Remus asked him seriously.

Severus could feel his muscles losing their tension at the question, but he would not give into defeat. As though the words meant nothing to him, Severus straightened up calmly. “Release me,” he repeated, his voice steady and ordered. Remus gazed at him for several long seconds before giving him a curt nod and letting his fingers drop. Severus lowered his wrist, the movement perfectly casual.

Black, who had stepped back a pace, came forward again. “Do you think you can fool us?” he asked with a rough shake of his head. “You’ve never given a damn what Harry thinks. You’ve never cared about anything but making certain Harry paid for stupid, childish pranks James played on you in school. It didn’t even matter that he kept you safe all those years.”

Black took a deep breath, as though he was trying to slow his own tirade, but couldn’t quite mange it. Severus could feel his veins running through various degrees of heat and chill as Black went on, “You are nothing but a Slytherin bastard who’s enjoyed hurting a kid who never did anything to you. You’re a miserable, unfeeling git that doesn’t even deserve the hell that Voldemort’s been-”

“Sirius, that’s enough,” Remus finally interjected, looking ill as he shook his head at Black. Black scowled at him.

“You want me to stand here and say nothing?” he demanded of his friend. Remus didn’t answer. “He’s hated Harry for years…been a complete areshole and now he wants to pretend he’s Harry’s father. He actually believes I would simply abandon him here, Remus-”

“Sirius…” Remus interrupted softly as Severus began to feel certain his face would crack from his attempt to keep it devoid of all expression. Remus’ entire being radiated with shame as he stood between the two men. Black turned slowly to face his friend, his body tensing even before Remus had finished the syllables. “Sirius,” Remus repeated the forlorn refrain, the name echoing dully in the stark cave.

Black’s face contorted so that the horror etched there was as still as the walls around them.

“No,” he implored quietly, having understood what Remus hadn’t said. He backed up a step, close enough to Voldemort, that the apparition could have touched him. “No,” Black said again, his voice wobbling as much as his step had. His eyes darted to Severus, whose own eyes were beginning to burn from the emotions churning in his gut.

He could not have even identified most of them as he kept his eyes focused on the image Voldemort had created to resemble his son. Of course Harry wasn’t really here. Harry was without form now. Just as Voldemort was.

“Yes,” the image of Voldemort called out to Black. Black shuddered, his shoulders hunching over his chest as if he were in great agonizing pain. “My Severus,” the imaged cooed at them, “is Harry Potter’s father.”

“He-he can’t be,” Black told Remus, shaking his head faster now. “He looks just like James,” he said desperately, his palms waving in agitation.

“A simple spell when Harry was in his mother’s womb,” Voldemort’s image said sadly. “They kept it from you all along, Sirius,” he explained. “All of them knew…even James.”

Black looked like he was choking, his face purpling toward a dark hue. Remus took an anxious step toward him, but Black waved him off, his eyes going wild as he backed hastily away. He nearly tripped over the legs Voldemort was imagining for Harry. His eyes darted to his godson and he started to crouch toward him, but then his head snapped up to look directly at Severus. Severus could see the pain twisting in the other man’s eyes.

“I won’t believe this,” Black said softly, his fists clenching again at his sides. “This is another trick. You hate Harry. You hate my godson,” he whispered.

Severus, unable to keep silent with the accusation, denied through his lips, “I do not hate Harry.”

Black’s grey eyes widened, and Severus knew he had heard the pain, that he had no strength to mask.

“Sirius,” Remus said gently, but Black’s breathing continued to huff loudly and he made no move to look at his friend. Remus continued anyway, “Harry’s been very happy.”

Sirius said nothing as his eyes went once more toward Harry, but he seemed to be pulling his body away so that he wouldn’t be too close. After a moment of dreadful silence, Black said softly, “You didn’t trust me.”

Severus watched as Remus took an aborted step toward Black. Black’s head jerked up again, this time to look Voldemort’s mirror-image straight in his blood-red eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said without inflection. “Even if this isn’t a trick, it doesn’t matter. I won’t leave Harry here.” And then, before any of them could draw another breath, Black lunged at Voldemort, reaching his hands to grasp him around his scaly white neck.

The crimson eyes widened in shock as Black began to shake him; strangled gurgling sounds beat against the walls as they escaped the non-existent lips.

And then Voldemort began to scream Harry’s nightmarish scream. Severus lunged toward his son, but Harry vanished, as though he had never been there at all. And then Voldemort’s mirage-self was melting in long strings of waxy ice. His face pooled down around his torso, his toes coming up in bacterial streams to meet it.

Black’s hands slid with it, until the mess began to curl and puff, turning into something without substance. Black’s hands slipped through the cords of black and white mist. A black so dark, it was red. And the white—unspotted even as the black choked it back.

“Harry,” Severus whispered. The mist was trying to get away…Harry’s storm wanted to be free.

Remus, understanding immediately what Severus had seen, pushed himself forward. Together, they leapt for the mist. Voldemort’s darkness swept sideways, dragging the mist with him. But Black was ready to meet the darkness as he moved his body in between the strands, refusing to move out of its way.

Taut with rage, the smoky strands tightened themselves around Black’s limbs. The mist recoiled from the murderous intent. Severus and Remus moved forward again, this time with Remus positioning himself so that he would be a barrier between smoke and mist. The black chords were winding themselves more fiercely around Black’s entire body, curving upward toward his chest and neck.

Severus reached for his son’s glacial storm, but the storm dissipated and his fingers slipped carelessly through. The storm firmed again and skittered away, trembling away from Severus and Remus.

And Severus could feel nothing. Not anger, not fear. They remained apart.

“Harry,” Severus cried, not caring how desperate he sounded. But the storm didn’t stop. It was making its way back toward the violent black smoke. Toward the familiarity he had found here. Acceptance , instead of rejection.

Severus’ rejection.

“Harry, we’re here to take you home,” Remus tried to tell him, planting himself firmly in Harry’s path back to Voldemort.

“He is home,” Voldemort’s hiss filled the emptiness. “They didn’t want you, Harry…don’t you remember?” he asked, the question a lulling caress in the darkness. The storm halted in its travel. The coal fingers of smoke had closed gently around the base of Black’s neck. “Your godfather, Harry, came to make sure you stay here. You murdered him.”

The mists swayed.

“No, Harry,” Black tried to tell him, but the strands pressed against his windpipe, and Black lips moved silently.

“That’s right,” Voldemort taunted. “And your father sent you here. Didn’t you my Severus?”

“No, Harry,” Severus said, his voice creaking unsteadily as it imitated Black’s plea. “Please, Harry-” he began, but the demon laughter barked through the void.

“Yes, Harry. He wants you to believe that he needs you to come home. He will only hurt you there, Harry. How many times, Harry,” he asked with a sigh, “has Severus hurt you?”

The mist moved again to the darkness closing in on Black.

“No,” Severus gasped, pain radiating from every part of his body as he watched his son’s desire to join Voldemort, rather than be with him. And Severus couldn’t blame him. Swallowing the self-loathing that was drowning him, Severus stepped back from his son’s dying storm. “You can return without me.” The words stuck to his tongue, tearing themselves free without his permission. He could sever his perfunctory connection with Remus. And perhaps Remus could house Harry’s soul with the correct spell…

Severus turned toward Voldemort’s coils.

“I will take his place.”

“No, Severus,” Remus objected frantically, though he didn’t move from his protective stance near Harry.

The coils seemed to gleam with impossible pleasure, not even pausing as they pulled away from Black’s windpipe, twirling themselves to stand near Severus. Severus kept his gaze fixed on his son’s storm. He had never deserved him.

The strands were glowing brighter, until with a sound so filled with agony, all three men flinched from it, what was left of Voldemort began to tremble. A soft, warming glow ripped through the cave. The warmth was so intense, hatred would never survive. The cave was melting.

“No!”

The same echoing shout that Severus and Harry had heard in the void sent tremors through the watery ice cave. The black coils were spinning toward gray and then with a strange sucking hiss, the coils dove toward Harry’s mist. Black, freed only seconds before, moved with such swiftness that Severus barely saw him. And then he and Remus were standing, shoulder to shoulder, shielding Harry from Voldemort. Voldemort’s soul was almost air, almost nothing as it pushed feebly against two solid men who would have killed to save the boy he wanted to desperately.

He would not have him.

The shout became a whispered breath and then it was gone. The mist was a tiny puff of smoke that no longer existed. The cave went with it.

Blackness closed in on them once more.

Harry’s mist remained behind his friend and his godfather. Both men were staring at Severus.

Severus couldn’t take his gaze from his son. Maybe he could make Harry understand, at least as much as was possible before he lost him forever. He had to close his mind to ignore Black’s presence.

“Voldemort kidnapped you,” he said quietly, knowing he still sounded too anxious, too frenzied. He could sense Harry wavering with indecision. With a start, Severus stepped toward the mist. Remus stepped aside, while Black stayed firmly where he was. Severus paid no attention. He could sense his son again—not in the same way he had before Voldemort kidnapped him, but it was too powerful to ignore. Harry’s storm was darkening, warming a shade closer to the contented grey. But it was still far too cold.

“Harry, I want you to come home,” he said firmly. It sounded more like a command than a plea. He could almost see Harry staring at him, his green eyes filled with uncertainty and defiance. Severus had no idea how Harry could even he hear him, of if he could. He could feel only sensations from the storm. Perhaps Harry could only feel his intent.

Severus soothed the inferno raging inside his mind, generating as much peace as he could toward wherever Harry was. “Remus is here, Harry,” he said, just as softly. Without looking at Black, he added, “Black is here as well. We want you to come home. We do not hate you, Harry.” The mist didn’t seem to hear him, though Severus was more than a little startled to watch as Black began nodding fervently as he turned to look at the mist, frozen behind him.

With a tentative step, Severus moved again toward the mist. It did not move away this time. With a quick nod to Remus, in case Black tried to intervene, Severus brought his wand upward, bringing it directly into the mist. “Recolligo suus animus,” Severus whispered. The mist gathered in a dense cloud at the tip of Severus’ wand; it was drawn slowly inward.

Black hadn’t moved at all as he’d watched, but that might have been because Remus was standing slightly in front of him.

As soon as the last of the mist disappeared, Severus brought the tip of his wand to his temple. On the same quiet breath, he commanded, “Redimio vestri animus per mei.”

The storm collided with the flames, and Severus felt himself stumbling with the welcome intrusion. His joy, however, vanished almost instantly. The storm was ice once more, huddling itself instinctively in a dark, unused corner of Severus’ mind.

There was no trust, only fear.

Severus, with great care, brought his flames to gather gently around what used to be a fierce Dementor Storm. It was barely even a cloud now. But Severus didn’t give in to his anger at Voldemort, or to his own guilt for what he’d driven his son to. He simply kept his flames warm and comforting against the mist.

“Severus.”

Severus pulled himself from his own shielded thoughts. Remus was watching him expectantly. Severus dipped his head.

“He is with me,” he answered the unspoken query. Remus’ shoulders sagged with relief. Black’s almost-blank expression didn’t change. Remus turned to his friend.

“Sirius-”

“The emptiness will take you back to the Veil, if that’s where you’re meant to go,” Black interrupted, sounding like a recitation for a guided tour. Black’s stoic mask faltered briefly and he said softly, sounding so close to tears, Severus shifted in discomfort, “Please tell Harry that I don’t blame him…that I love him…”

“Sirius,” Remus said, grabbing the other man’s arm, “maybe you can come with us.” Remus’ words ran together, his voice muddy. Black brought his eyes up. Severus almost stepped back from the haunted grey.

“Just tell him,” he whispered, and with one last look at the place where Harry’s mist had been, Black turned away from them.

Remus’ chest constricted as he watched Sirius turn away.

“Sirius, you can’t just leave,” Remus told his friend’s retreating back. Sirius paid no attention to his plea. “Harry would want you to try,” Remus said desperately. Sirius stopped walking.

“Harry,” he stressed without turning around, “would have wanted you tell me about this. How could you and James have kept this from me?”

Remus swallowed, and stepped toward his friend, not sure what he could say to make it better, but Severus’ voice stopped him.

“Lupin only found out a few months ago, and I would not allow him to tell you.”

Remus could see Sirius’ spine stiffening, and Remus wished pointlessly that Severus would stop calling him Lupin.

Sirius turned slowly around to face Remus. “You take his orders now.”

It should have been a question.

“I did not trust that you would not abandon Harry if knew the truth,” Severus told him bluntly. Before Sirius could retort, he added, “I did not anticipate Voldemort using that knowledge so to taunt you so blatantly.”

Remus inwardly winced at the unintentionally smug tone. Sirius’ fingers flexed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Remus.

“You weren’t going to tell me at all, then?” he demanded. “Not even after you’d found Harry?”

“There is very little point to this discussion,” Severus interjected impatiently, glancing about them as though the veil would simply appear at his command. Sirius finally rounded on him.

“I’m talking to Remus,” he snapped. “Or is that not allowed, in the little game your playing?” he asked sarcastically. Severus simply raised a condescending eyebrow, silently goading the other man.

Remus drew in a calming breath, feeling more trapped than he cared to.

“Sirius, I want you to try to come back with us,” he said, trying to sound as calm as possible, though in reality, his insides were jumping frantically. More than anything, he wanted to just take Sirius’ arm and force him to come with them.

Sirius’ face crumpled, and he shook his head. Remus stepped closer to him, turning his body a little to give Sirius the illusion of privacy.

“What is it, Padfoot?” he asked his friend. “What’s wrong?”

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, and Remus thought he was smiling a little. “Do you know how many times I dreamed about the possibility, Remus?” he asked, his voice faraway. “How many times I wished I could take a step and I’d be back there again?”

Remus gripped Sirius’ forearm. “Then why won’t you try?” he demanded, trying to keep his voice easy, but failing spectacularly. Sirius shook his head.

“I have tried,” he lamented. “I’ve spent so much time…whatever time is…trying to find that veil. I can’t.”

But Remus wasn’t about to be deterred. “But if we can find it, just as Albus thinks we can, maybe you can come with us,” he said firmly. Sirius looked up at him, the eyes filled again with sorrow.

“And what would I do, Remus?” he asked quietly. “Sit in Grimmauld Place again, in hiding. At least before…with Harry…”

“You won’t have to be without Harry, Padfoot,” Remus assured him quickly. “And,” he added, “you won’t have to hide anymore. Voldemort’s gone, and Wormtail’s been captured with all the other Death Eaters.”

Sirius blinked at that bit of information. “…just as I imagined it…” he said, almost to himself, but then he re-focused on the part that was consuming him. “I always hoped that it would all end—the war, Voldemort—and then Harry could come with me. Now-” he swallowed, unable to finish.

“I will not object if you wish to attempt it,” Severus broke the silence, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

Remus and Sirius both turned swiftly in surprise. Severus had already turned away.

--

Severus stepped through nothing and almost closed his eyes in relief as he found Harry waiting for him on the other side. Ginny and Poppy looked up, their eyes registering shock. Albus simply smiled and nodded.

“You found him,” he said with his quiet confidence. Severus nodded and knelt down next to his son. His arm brushed against Ginny’s but she didn’t seem notice. She was still holding Harry’s hand just as gently as she had when they’d left. She hadn’t moved even a centimeter, in fact.

“You only just left,” Poppy objected quietly. Severus didn’t respond as he moved his hands to rest against Harry’s face, being careful not to jostle Ginny.

The flames continued their vigil, surrounding the storm with gentle warmth. Harry, the flames called to the storm, you need to return.

The storm jerked back as though it had been slapped. The flames fluttered anxiously at such a response, but Severus forced them to still. They stayed warm beside Harry.

You are not whole, Harry, they encouraged. This part of you needs to return to your body.

The storm seemed to sag dejectedly, but it didn’t protest. And again, Severus had no idea if his son could hear him, or if Harry was perhaps choosing not to understand. His heart aching with unmasked sorrow, Severus gathered the storm up, tangling the cloud in his flames as he directed it back to where it belonged.

The cloud faded easily away, streaming back into Harry’s mind, slipping through the fingered flames as strands of white hair through a flamed comb. He was almost gone. Severus braced himself for the onslaught of pain that he knew he would feel as he was left alone again. But the pain did not come.

The same tiny wisp was nestled into the hollowed out space Severus had once created. As if it had never left.

Harry? the flames prodded against the wisp, unable to still the surprise in the question. But the wisp remained silent. Still uncertain if it belonged here.

The flames backed away reluctantly and Severus was once again staring down at Harry. But Harry was silent as well, his eyes closed. Severus looked immediately to Poppy, who was waving her wand over Harry.

“His pulse is returning to normal, as is his breathing and brain activity,” she confirmed.

“Why isn’t he awake?” a deep voice asked from above.

Ginny and Poppy snapped their heads around. Black stood next to Remus, his grey eyes filled with worry. Remus gave his friend’s arm a squeeze before kneeling down beside Poppy. He took up Harry’s other hand, his eyes drifting upward to give Severus a look of encouragement. Severus inclined his head in acceptance of the other man’s offer.

“Sirius?” Ginny questioned incredulously. Black didn’t even nod; his eyes were glued to Harry. Ginny shook her head, obviously attempting to convince herself that it wasn’t an apparition standing before her, and then a slow smile spread across her lips. But just as swiftly, it disappeared; she turned to Severus.

“Is he all right?” she asked. Severus ran his wand down the length of Harry’s body. Harry, in all physical aspects, was perfectly healthy. He simply was not ready to wake up. The wisp stayed frozen against his flames, no matter how much warmth Severus projected.

“He needs time to recover,” Severus told her, remembering his words to Harry only days before. Poppy, pulling herself out of her stupor, nodded a little jerkily as she waved her wand over Harry as well.

“We need to return to the Hospital Wing,” she agreed.

“Sirius, it is good to see you again,” Albus told the stock-still man kindly. Black started, and then nodded politely to the Headmaster. Albus smiled at him, taking him gently by the arm and moving him to stand near Ginny and Poppy. Remus accepted a second vial of Polyjuice from Poppy, downing it in one swallow.

While the others watched, Severus gathered Harry in his arms, positioning his hands gently under Harry’s knees and around his shoulders so that Harry’s head was cradled comfortably in the crook of Severus’ arm. Severus noticed the way Black stiffened beside Ginny; his fingers stretched outward a little, before fluttering uselessly back to his side. The line of Black’s jaw was tight as Albus cast a wide-spread Disillusionment Charm over them.

And then Albus, standing close to Remus-Harry, led all of them out of the Department of Mysteries and back into the marbled corridor. Albus walked quickly, looking for all the world like he was on an urgent errand. Severus ignored the whispered conversations as he pulled Harry in protectively against his chest. He heard an odd sound behind him and he knew instantly that it was a strangled noise of grief from Black.

And Severus could find no pleasure in his pain. He had expected to. Black’s worst nightmare had been realized. Severus was certain if Black was ever visited by Dementors again, this was the vision he would see. Severus fingers twitched against Harry’s shoulder as he tried to dispel the feelings of pity that he wanted no part of. Black would not want them either, nor was there anything to pity, Severus told himself firmly.

Black deserved this. To have his own family ripped from him. Black had, after all, wished for nothing less for Severus. This could be the revenge Severus had always craved for the bully who had made his years at Hogwarts a misery. But as he gazed down at Harry, at his son, who was cosseted in his own painful memories, Severus knew he would do nothing to Black. Harry would want to see him. Would likely choose him over Severus. And Severus would accept it.

Harry deserved to be happy.

Severus heard Albus chanting the Counter Charm. They were standing in the Infirmary. Severus, so lost in his thoughts, had barely noticed their trip here.

“Put him on the bed, Severus,” Poppy was directing. Severus complied, pulling a blanket up and around Harry’s shoulders. He did not wish him to be cold. Both of them had been cold enough to last them the rest of their lives. “I’ll need to examine all of you,” Poppy was adding, indicating the three men who had survived their trip beyond the veil.

Severus was barely listening. Harry was so pale.

“Your dad’s here, Harry.”

Severus blinked. Ginny was again holding one of Harry’s hands. She was speaking to him in a low, soothing voice, her fingers straying up every few words to brush through Harry’s fringe. Ginny smiled at Severus and for some reason, the gesture eased some of his pain, though there was no conceivable reason that it should.

Severus stepped closer to Harry’s bed and took up his other hand. He and Ginny stayed there, watching over Harry together.

--

“If you would sit down, Sirius, I’d like to-”

Sirius shook his head, his eyes still on Harry. Remus had never seen his friend looking so tense. Remus gave Poppy an imploring look.

With a gusty sigh, she nodded, though she told them firmly, “None of you are to leave the Hospital Wing until I’ve examined you.” At Remus’ nod of agreement, she went to her office, looking very displeased.

“We’re very glad to have you back, Sirius,” Albus said from Remus’ other side. “Harry will be pleased to see you,” he added. Sirius didn’t answer. “When you’ve had time to recover, I’d like to speak with you about your experiences,” Albus added. Sirius nodded mutely, his eyes still riveted on Harry. Albus, with a gentle smile, patted Sirius’ shoulder and followed Poppy into her office.

Ginny kept up a steady stream of quiet words for Harry.

“How could you and James not trust me?”

Remus’ guilty gaze traveled to his distraught friend. Sirius wasn’t looking at him, and his mouth was drawn in a taut line. And Remus didn’t know how to answer him. How was he supposed to explain that he hadn’t been certain what Sirius’ reaction would be to Harry’s new father?

“Is that what kind of monster Harry sees when he looks at me as well?”

Startled, Remus shook his head quickly. “No one thinks you’re a monster, Padfoot,” he denied vehemently. “Harry adores you,” he added, hoping to bolster his friend’s flagging spirits. But Sirius frowned, finally turning to look at him.

“If you really believed that, you would have told me. If you thought Harry still-” He stopped talking abruptly as he voice thickened.

“It is possible for Harry to love both of you, Sirius,” Remus told him softly, knowing that Severus would be able to hear him as well, and hoping the other man would take it to heart.

Sirius swallowed. “Harry loves him?” he asked after a heavy silence.

Remus nodded solemnly, seeing no point in skirting around this issue. Sirius would see it soon enough for himself anyway. “They’ve been through some terrible things together, Sirius.”

Sirius nodded jerkily, his mouth hardening again. “And Snape’s put Harry through hell, Remus. You know he has,” he insisted, when Remus shook his head. Severus’ head was bowed, and Remus had an urge to clamp his hand over his friend’s mouth. He didn’t have a chance to even respond to his challenge though. Ginny’s head had come up sharply, her gentle sentences coming to a swift halt.

“You haven’t heard the whole story yet, Sirius,” she surmised, frowning slightly at both Sirius and Remus. Sirius looked up in surprise at her, as though he’d forgotten he and Remus weren’t alone in the room.

“I can’t believe anything Remus can say will make so much difference-”

“That’s because you weren’t here, Sirius,” Ginny explained softly. She glanced down at Harry. “Even if Remus tells you the entire story, you still won’t understand.”

Remus and Sirius were staring at her. Coming from anyone else’s lips, the words would have been cruel, but the affection in her voice, affection that somehow spilled over to include all three of the men standing around her, softened the tart words.

“I’ve never seen Harry as happy as he’s been in the past few months,” Ginny went on, looking as though she was talking to Harry this time.

Sirius made a vague, pointless motion with his hand. “I’m gone for months, and when I come back, everything’s changed,” he told her hoarsely. “Snape made Harry’s life miserable for five years, Ginny. You know how he treated him.”

Ginny nodded, but didn’t change her tone at all. “And Severus has paid for those mistakes more dearly than anyone other than Harry will ever understand,” she told him, her eyes locked with his.

Sirius’ grey eyes widened a bit at Ginny’s familiarity with her professor. Ginny didn’t seem to notice.

“But Harry is happy, Sirius,” Ginny told him, squeezing Harry’s hand lightly. She smiled a little at Sirius. “I’m glad you’re back. And Harry will be as well. You won’t believe how happy he’ll be to see you again, but,” she cautioned, her soft brown eyes forming into daggers, “he won’t let you hurt Severus like this, so just give Remus a chance to explain.” She narrowed her eyes a bit to make her next point. “And when Harry wakes up, don’t talk about Severus like that in front of him,” she warned, all affection gone from her voice.

And though Remus knew that Ginny had no idea about the full history behind Sirius’ anger, he appreciated her attempts nonetheless. And they seemed to strike something in Sirius as well. For a brief second, he stared at Ginny. And then his eyebrows bunched together in confusion.

“You remind me of your mother,” he said under his breath, and Remus wasn’t certain if it was meant as a compliment or not. Ginny smiled anyway, and turned back to her charge. Sirius sighed, and Remus was surprised when he raised a quick Privacy Spell around them. “How is it,” he wanted to know, “that Ginny can be so much like her mother and yet Harry is nothing like Arthur?”

Remus smiled in spite of the tension. “Ginny isn’t so very like Molly, once you get to know her, Sirius,” he said with a shrug, remembering that he’d made the same assumption, not so very long ago. “She’s been wonderful for Harry. You’ll have to ask him all about her,” he suggested. “He practically glows whenever he mentions her,” he said with a smirk. Sirius grinned, but then he must have remembered he was supposed to be angry, because a scowl quickly replaced the jovial look.

“You should have told me,” he said stubbornly. “No matter what Snape had to say about it, you should have told me.”

Remus sighed. “It’s not that simple, Sirius,” he said, feeling very tired as he switched his glance to Harry before turning back to Sirius. “Severus and I,” he began, but stopped when Sirius goggled at him. He shook his head before Sirius could say anything. “Just let me start at the beginning, okay? And when I’m done, you can have your say, I promise,” he said seriously.

Sirius nodded reluctantly. And with both of them keeping chary eyes on Harry, in case he stirred, Remus told Sirius the entire story, starting from that first week in September, when he’d stepped into Dumbledore’s office. Sirius didn’t interrupt once. And when Remus had finished, after glossing over Harry’s behavior of late, Sirius hoisted himself up on the empty bed next to Harry’s and simply stared. Remus wasn’t certain who he was starting at.

--

Shadows danced in eerie silhouettes around the Infirmary walls. Shadows like these always reminded Severus of his mother’s house-elf. She had been Severus’ nanny, taking the place of his mother whenever she couldn’t be bothered with him. Middle of the night frights were most certainly one of those times.

Tulla had always popped in with an ear-splitting crack at his smallest whimper—she knew very well what would happen to Severus had he woken Tobias with his childish noises. And she would sit with him, holding his hand as he cried that the shadows were coming for him. But eventually, Tulla’s reassurances would lull him gently back to sleep; his fear had actually seemed to be banished away by the little elf. He had never told either of his parents about her comfort, and he had mourned her when she’d died—even more than he had his father’s death…and certainly more than his mother’s ‘illness’.

Severus leaned forward, grateful that the others had fallen asleep—finally. Ginny had eventually reminded him that he had agreed to inform Weasley and Ms. Granger that Harry was back. They, with a worried Minerva, had joined them. Most of the beds were occupied with Harry’s various friends. At least, now, they were silent. And as Severus smoothed his son’s fringe from its favorite spot—falling over his eyes, he wondered if perhaps he should have told Harry about Eileen. Even though he knew perfectly well that Harry would disapprove.

Severus sighed, wondering, not for the first time, how Harry could so easily forgive…so easily love. Black had been correct, and even though he appreciated Ginny’s efforts on his behalf, they were unnecessary. Harry had forgiven him too easily. And since it was likely that Black would not heed Ginny’s counsel, Harry would realize it as well, all too soon.

Severus closed his eyes as his fingers touched Voldemort’s gift—the scar that would never allow them to forget what had happened; what had brought them to this sordid place.

Severus’ fingers wound themselves more tightly in the strands of Harry’s black hair, his emotions burning through his throat.

He had no idea what was wrong with him—it was as though his shields had lost all of their strength. He struggled to cap them and thrust them beneath the cleansing flames, but it wasn’t any use. Overwhelmed with the understanding of how much he was going to lose this time, Severus dropped his head against the mattress. He could feel Harry’s left lung expanding, contracting with air against the top of his head as he felt his flames rising higher and higher, burning him.

An unfamiliar sound escaped Severus’ lips as he tried to draw a shaky breath, completely unaware that one of the occupants of the other beds was still awake. The other man’s teeth had locked together to stop their chattering, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs as he watched Severus clinging desperately to his son.

And both of them sucked in sharp breaths at the tremulous query, “Dad?”

1996

Sirius’ breath dragged painfully into his chest as he heard Harry’s voice two beds over.

He’d called him dad. Snape. Dad.

Sirius didn’t move, not even to close his eyes as he felt the anguish at what he’d heard. Dad. That was supposed to be James.

Sirius watched as Snape’s head snapped up, his fingers curling around the top of Harry’s head. Sirius’ muscles flexed to spring, but he forced himself to be still. The fingers were holding onto Harry in an undeniably protective manner; there was absolutely nothing hostile in the motion, loathe though Sirius was to admit it.

“Harry,” Snape whispered hoarsely. A deep, mournful sigh seemed to shudder through the unflappable Slytherin. “How do you feel?” Snape asked quickly, the pitch of his voice sounding very off to Sirius’ ears. Much too gentle. He’d never heard Snape speak to anyone like that.

Snape was blocking his view of Harry, and there was a lengthy pause before Harry said weakly, “You’re here.” Sirius’ heart squeezed painfully at the tone in Harry’s voice. He’d sounded just like that when he’d first come to Grimmauld Place last summer. When Harry had been greeting him.

Sirius watched as Snape brushed his thumb slowly, just underneath Harry’s hairline.

“Of course I am,” Snape murmured softly, as though he was talking to a beloved pet. Sirius could hear Harry licking dry lips. Snape pulled his fingers from Harry’s hair and brought the glass of water from the table toward Harry. “Slowly,” Snape commanded in that same gentle tone.

“Thanks,” Harry said after a moment, still sounding croaky. Snape nodded a little and settled his hand back in Harry’s mop of black hair—the only part of his godson that Sirius could see. And Sirius wanted to fling himself up from his bed and tell Harry that he was here. He also wanted to shout at Snape to stop touching his godson, and to tell him that if he ever laid a finger on Harry again, he’d tear his arms off.

But Harry hadn’t made a single noise of protest.

Harry’s hand came into view then; his familiar fingers curled around Snape’s left forearm. Snape slid his arm down to take Harry’s fingers.

“I was waiting…Voldemort said you wouldn’t come for me,” Harry said softly, and he almost sounded like he was offering the words as an apology. Probably because Snape was going to berate him for being a coward. But Snape didn’t seem to have any such intention. Sirius watched his hand running over Harry’s fringe.

Snape shook his head. “Voldemort’s games were almost successful with me, as well…I would never have left you there, Harry,” he told him, and Sirius could find nothing but sincerity in his words.

Sirius could hear sheets rustling, and then he could see the side of Harry’s face. His heart began to pound.

“You let me go.”

The distress in Harry’s voice made Sirius’ face burn. He wasn’t certain exactly which emotion…which fear to attribute it to.

“I had no other choice, Harry,” Snape told him, sounding almost as pained as Sirius felt. “Voldemort would have taken my soul as well. I would not have been able to bring you back.” Snape’s voice broke, and Sirius finally remembered to start breathing again.

He could see Harry’s dark hair, nodding up and down against the pillow. “I know,” he said softly. “It’s just…” Harry drew a deep breath and then stopped talking.

Snape stepped closer to the bed, even though he was practically leaning on it already. “Harry, it was never my intention for you to believe I did not want you to sleep at home after the banquet.”

Home.

The word reverberated in Sirius’ head, even as he attempted to figure out what Snape was talking about.

“But you told me to sleep in the tower…and I know you’re angry with me,” Harry was saying, his words strained and he seemed to be struggling not to cry. Sirius felt himself moving forward, wanting to comfort his godson, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He didn’t need to turn around to see that it would be Remus. Remus wouldn’t allow him to go over there and hex Snape for bullying Harry. Harry sounded like a mess.

He knew though, he couldn’t simply charge over there and announce himself to Harry. It would give the kid a heart attack. So he leaned against his mattress as quietly as he could, folded his arms over his chest and waited with Remus.

--

“About this afternoon, I mean…and about what I said to Remus,” Harry explained, swallowing painfully when he’d finished. “Where is Remus now?” he asked, wondering how angry Remus still was with him.

His father frowned. “He is here,” he said.

“He’s here?” Harry asked. Severus nodded.

“He stayed here after we brought you back.”

“Remus came with you?” Harry asked, the knot in his stomach loosening a bit as he realized that must mean Remus wasn’t completely furious with him.

“You did not realize Lupin was with me the entire time?”

Harry, confused, shook his head slowly. “He was? I only felt you—and Voldemort.”

Severus nodded. “Did you realize that we used the Veil to find you?” he asked softly. Harry squinted in thought. Had he realized that? Some part of him wanted to nod, as he thought he could remember something. Shapes and shadows that seemed to be with his father. Dancing back and forth between the one who loathed him and the one who loved him.

The ones who loved him.

Remus…

…and

“Sirius,” Harry breathed, his heart leaping into his throat as the shadows became people in his mind. “Sirius was still there behind the Veil, wasn’t he?” he asked breathlessly. His father nodded stiffly. “But if he was there, he should have tried to come back. Maybe he could have…with you…” The look on his father’s face made Harry’s heart plummet into his stomach. “He didn’t want to because he was angry with me, wasn’t he?” He clenched his jaw at the hurt that ignited. But Sirius had a right to feel that way

“He was not angry with you, Harry.”

Then why was his father’s voice so filled with pain?

“I remember him…and Remus, but Sirius was with Voldemort.” Harry tried to clear the muddle in his brain. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t come back. If he was with Voldemort…

“Black was forcing Voldemort away from you.”

The nervous ice in the pit of Harry’s stomach was beginning to melt. “You talked to him, then?” he asked, and then he realized why his father was holding himself so stiffly. “You told him about us, didn’t you?” Sirius would have been furious, and Harry found his face flushing with anger.

“Voldemort told him…before he assisted us in retrieving you,” Severus corrected. “Harry…”

Harry stared at his father as the entire contents of their conversation penetrated his brain.

If Sirius wasn’t angry with him, and had in fact cared enough about him to save him from Voldemort, even after he knew he wasn’t James’ son... And Severus looked as though he was lost. The only other time Harry had seen him looking even remotely as battered, it had been when Severus thought Harry might have to die to fulfill the prophecy.

“Not even Albus understands the mysteries of the Veil, Harry,” Severus was telling him.

“So he tried it then?” Harry finally managed, his voice coming out in a squeak. Harry’s next question died on his tongue.

Sirius…it was really Sirius…stepped out of the darkness.

“Sirius,” he whispered. He struggled to sit up; his father helped him. “Sirius,” he gulped again, not trusting himself to say anything else.

“Harry…”

The single word was filled with sadness. And before Harry was ready for it, he was swallowed up in Sirius’ arms. He didn’t really have time to adjust to it either; Sirius was soon grasping his arms and holding him slightly from his chest.

“Harry,” he repeated, louder this time. He was grinning like a man gone mad.

Harry had no idea what to say. His stomach was churning with a half dozen emotions, and he didn’t know what to do with any of them. But it made no difference; Sirius began speaking, so quickly that Harry had a hard time keeping up with the stream of words.

“…never thought I’d see you again, Harry,” Sirius finally breathed after he’d told Harry in at least three different ways how glad he was to see him again; his fingers hadn’t lost any of their fierce grip.

Harry could think of only one response. There was only one thing he wanted to say to his godfather. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. Sirius’ face fell. He shook his head rapidly.

“No, Harry. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted quietly, angling his head a little so that he was looking right into Harry’s eyes. Harry could feel Sirius’ fingers trembling.

“I shouldn’t have gone to the Ministry that night. I should have known it was a trick,” Harry disagreed vehemently, ignoring the tears he could feel gathering in his eyes. “I was so stupid,” he whispered. He felt a tear trickle down his nose. He wanted to swipe at it but he was thwarted by his arms, trapped in Sirius’ hands.

Sirius’ fingers tightened their hold. He was frowning. “You were not stupid, Harry,” he said firmly. “You were trying to save me. I would have done the same if I had thought you needed me.”

“But you wouldn’t have let me die,” Harry protested, his voice rising despite his best efforts to bridle his emotions.

“Harry,” Sirius said with a bit of dark chuckle, “it was Bellatrix’s spell that pushed me through the Veil.” Harry didn’t say anything; he didn’t know what to say. “And anyway, I’m not dead,” Sirius said with a shrug and a crooked smile. Harry’s tears spilled over at the happy grin, which immediately fell into a grimace of apology. Sirius pulled Harry into his arms again.

--

Severus watched Black embracing his son, wanting to close his eyes as Harry all but disappeared in Black’s robes. Severus was watching them intently; he had barely noticed when Remus came to stand beside him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Harry,” Black was consoling Harry. “I was never angry at you…not even for a minute,” he assured him.

“You should have been,” Harry muttered into Black’s wrinkled robes. Severus had to quickly squelch the urge to tear Black’s arms off. Black chuckled again, the sound much lighter as he continued to hug Harry, completely unaware that Severus was seriously considering killing him.

“Well, I’m not,” Black said, and Severus would have guessed that he was smiling.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally pulled away from Black. Oddly, Harry wasn’t smiling. His face was full of apprehension, but Black didn’t seem to notice, even when Harry’s eyes wandered over to Severus; Black was too busy talking about how happy he was. Again.

Harry’s lips jerked into a frown when he found Remus standing beside Severus. His cheeks warmed, and Severus knew it was from shame. Remus smiled gently at him. But no one had a chance to speak. The sconces on their half of the Infirmary brightened suddenly. Poppy came hurrying out of her office. Her face tightened a little as she found Harry awake, seemingly well, and sitting up in bed.

“Mr. Snape,” she admonished, clucking her tongue.

Black reared back in surprise. Harry tensed as he noted the reaction.

“You shouldn’t be awake,” Poppy was scolding. Harry nodded quickly, probably only hoping to stall her inevitable lecture, but Poppy nodded at him and turned sharply to Severus. “I told you that Harry needed to sleep, Severus,” she said in exasperation. Not waiting for a response, she moved close to Harry’s side. “Hold still,” she commanded, running her wand tightly up and down the length of Harry’s body. She nodded in satisfaction, and then looked again to Severus. She paused, her lips pinching together. Her gaze swept over Remus and Black. “If you would both excuse us,” she suggested politely.

“What?” Black asked, clearly surprised and irritated by the Mediwitch’s suggestion. He shook off Remus’ restraining arm. “Why?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Black, but a patient’s medical concerns are private,” Poppy told him, cutting off any verbal protests he would have made.

“And Snape?” Black asked through his teeth. Harry stiffened at the question.

“Harry is a minor and Severus is his father.”

Black stared at Poppy for longer than was necessary. He turned away without a word. He and Remus moved over to wait by the bed farthest away. Severus was having a very difficult time not smirking at Black’s retreating back. Harry was watching him carefully.

Poppy waved her wand once more over Harry. “Physically, Mr. Snape, you are recovering nicely, though of course you need more rest,” she told him, her voice turning soft. “However,” she continued worriedly, “because of everything that’s happened, I don’t think it would be wise to allow you to simply resume your daily activities as though nothing has happened.”

Severus waited for his son to protest. But Harry only nodded, his eyes not really seeming to register the conversation. Poppy glanced up at Severus. Severus laid a hand on Harry’s arm. Harry looked down at it, as though he wasn’t sure what was touching him.

“Harry?” Severus questioned anxiously, his mind reeling back to the moments in the past days when Harry had seemed to black out. The times when Voldemort had been seeking his soul. But Harry looked up again, his eyes nothing like the blank pools they had been during those dizzy spells.

“I understand,” Harry said with a nod. “I shouldn’t have resisted it so much in the first place I suppose…we wouldn’t be in this mess,” he finished with a shrug. Again, Poppy glanced worriedly at Severus.

“Harry,” Severus said in a low voice, “Voldemort captured your soul before we returned to Riddle Manor. This ‘mess’ would have existed whether or not you had attempted a longer recuperation.”

“Well, maybe you could have found a way to close off my soul or something, so that Voldemort wouldn’t have been able to get any more of it,” Harry suggested, though there was no real vigor in his voice.

“You would not have been able to live well without that piece of your soul,” Poppy interjected, and Severus could tell she was trying to ease Harry’s mind. “You haven’t been yourself these past few days,” she added. Harry said nothing as his shoulders slumped. His eyes flicked to Black, still waiting with Remus. Severus watched with unease; Harry obviously wanted to talk to him again.

“Harry can rest until you believe he is fully fit again,” Severus told Poppy. Poppy nodded with a frown.

“He needs to be fit in mind as well,” she reiterated, reminding Severus of their conversation after Voldemort’s defeat. Harry need to talk through everything that had haunted him since Voldemort had come into his life. Severus nodded. Harry sat quietly, watching his hands now with great interest.

“I will get Black-”

Harry’s eyes darted up.

“I need to examine him, Severus. I shouldn’t have allowed it to wait so long,” Poppy interrupted, giving Severus a pointed look. She gave Harry a little smile, patting him on the arm, and then went over to where Black was still waiting with Remus.

Harry looked at Black again through half-closed lids. When his gaze came back to his hands, he pressed his palms into his thighs.

--

Harry didn’t know where to begin. Sirius—however impossible it was—was here. Sirius wasn’t dead. His mind was reeling. And yet, Sirius wasn’t foremost in his mind. It was as though Sirius was only a dream, and he had faded away as quickly as he had come.

Harry couldn’t look at his father.

“Are you…” he finally began, swallowing twice before starting over, “…if you’re still angry-”

“I was never angry with you,” Severus denied immediately, still speaking much more quietly than Harry would have expected. Harry chanced a quick glance at his dad’s face. Severus settled a hand on his. Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to shut his ruddy out-of-control emotions up. “Harry,” his father continued, his Adams’ apple bobbing jerkily along his throat, “I want to explain-”

“You don’t need to,” Harry interrupted quickly, shaking his head, and wishing desperately that he could take back these past few days. He’d rather have Voldemort back than have to hear his father tell him he didn’t want him around their quarters anymore.

Severus looked confused. “Of course I do, Harry. I want you to understand-”

“I do understand,” Harry interjected quickly. “I know I’ve been a complete arse and I don’t really have any excuse other than I just got carried away with all the attention, I guess. And I know that isn’t any sort of excuse…though I have been feeling awfully funny, but I know you’re pretty angry with me…”

The calloused fingers on his hand slipped away, and Harry started talking faster, the words coming out in a flooded babble now.

“I’m sorry for what happened with Remus. I really wasn’t before, but I am now, and I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring everyone and not paying much attention to my assignments, and for taking advantage of you being my father, and about the Minister-”

“Harry.”

Harry stopped talking; his father’s voice sounded strangled. “I did not send you to sleep in your dorm,” he said, sounding no less anxious than just a moment before. Harry shook his head in confusion.

“You didn’t?” he asked, trying to remember exactly what his father had said, but couldn’t. Only that he seemed eager to be rid of both him and his attitude.

“Harry…of course not,” Severus gently admonished him, with an oddly jerky shake of his head. “Even if I had been angry with you, I would not ask you to leave our home. I asked you if you wanted to spend the night in your dorm. I had assumed that you wanted some distance from me,” he explained; his words were filled with pain.

Harry’s eyes snapped back toward his father, whose face had become a mask; the candlelight flickered harshly against the sharp lines of his face.

“You did?”

Severus nodded. “Harry, I have been selfish, and for that I am sincerely sorry-”

“Dad-” Harry tried to interrupt, not wanting his father to take the blame for everything that he himself had done wrong, but Severus shook his head.

“I should have realized that you were not yourself. That there was something so terribly wrong. I was hurt,” he said haltingly, “by your behavior, and I allowed that hurt to overshadow my objectivity.” He looked away. “I ignored all the signs that you needed help and I almost lost you-”

The word came out in a bit of gasp, and the feelings of guilt stewing in Harry’s gut exploded. He had pushed his dad away…he could remember it now. How could he have thought his father didn’t want him?

His dad’s face had shifted a bit, but he could not hide the pain. Harry could clearly see it, etched deeply in his black eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, ridiculously repeating words that had likely lost all meaning. “I was insufferable. A complete git to Remus. Even my friends can’t stand me now.” Harry said, waving his hands a bit to get his point across.

“Your friends are here, Harry,” Severus told him. Harry closed his mouth, surprised at that bit of news. “I told you earlier, and this time I want you to understand…no one is angry with you. Not even Remus,” he added, anticipating Harry’s protest. “You were not yourself, Harry, just as Poppy said. You were incomplete.”

Harry swallowed.

“So I’m let off then?” he asked, trying to sound as sarcastic as he’d heard his father be, but he couldn’t really manage it. He shook his head, frustrated with himself. “You said I hurt you and I know I hurt everyone else.” It didn’t matter that his father claimed not to be furious about how he’d acted. Or that even Sirius had said he wasn’t upset that Harry had helped to trap him in a spaceless void for half a year.

“I allowed myself to be hurt,” Severus told him. Harry shook his head, not even certain what he’d done to make his father feel that way.

“Because I didn’t correct Scrimgeour at the banquet?” he asked. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell everyone that you helped me. I should have, I know, but…”

Severus was shaking his head. “I do not care if no one is aware of what really happened. You know that.” Harry balled his fingers into fists, unable to stop his agitation.

“Then what did I do?” he asked plaintively, sounding pathetic and incredibly childish.

The tiny muscle in his father’s jaw, the one that Harry had come to recognize, jumped a little. “You did not do anything, Harry,” he said firmly. “I interpreted your actions as ones of discomfort in my presence. I should have known better, I realize.” The last part was just a murmur, as though he was talking to himself.

Shame filled the space that wasn’t completely filled yet with guilt. Harry slumped a little. Severus studied him, and Harry felt too tired to try to explain that he hadn’t meant any of it. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, most especially his father.

Inexplicably, Severus reached down and gripped Harry’s chin in his free hand. Harry stared up at him as the rough fingers gently cupped the sides of his face. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” his father demanded in a hoarse whisper. Harry blinked up at him, shocked at the declaration.

And instead of the burning blaze he’d felt just before he’d woken up, Harry felt warmth against his storm. The familiar rush of security. Safety. And he could only nod, not trusting himself to speak.

And then Severus pulled Harry into his chest, his arms offering a familiar comfort. The heartbeat, the steady breathing, balanced him. And not even having to think about it, Harry wrapped his arms around his father. Severus’ arms tightened and Harry let himself relax a little. Of course he knew how much Severus loved him. And for a brief instant, he clearly remembered the sacrifice Severus had begged Voldemort to allow on his behalf.

“How could you offer to let Voldemort have you instead?” He tried to make his words stern, but it was a bit difficult since he was talking into his father’s shoulder. Severus’ arms tightened their hold briefly before he pulled away. His hands remained on Harry’s shoulders, for which Harry was grateful.

“I told you once that I would protect you until I no longer had the ability. Nothing has changed.”

Harry smiled at that, but he said anyway, “What was I supposed to do with you trapped with Voldemort?” He felt very real irritation that his father had almost sacrificed himself. Severus looked vaguely amused at the question. “I would have had to come back to find you,” he said seriously, and unlike his dad, he was not at all amused by the idea.

A fire had built behind his dad’s eyes. A sense of renewed energy seemed to surround him; his lips lifted, though it was really his eyes that were smiling. “I doubt either Lupin or Black would have allowed you out of their sight long enough to attempt it,” he said dryly.

Harry’s eyes darted again to Sirius. He was watching them, as Pomfrey continued to wave her wand over him; it seemed to be taking her a very long time to complete her examination. Sirius’ entire posture was stiff and uncomfortable. It made Harry feel very uneasy.

Severus was watching him, his own stance much more relaxed.

“He hates you,” Harry murmured abruptly. And even though he hadn’t meant it to, resentment seeped through his words.

1971

He watched, a lofty second year, as Regulus marched into the Great Hall with the other first years. He waited with barely-held anticipation as the tattered old hat was placed on his little brother’s head. “Gryffindor,” he chanted silently, believing with all his heart that Regulus would join him. And then he could prove to Reg, once and for all, that their parents were wrong in their attitudes toward anyone who wasn’t a pureblood.

He held his breath as Regulus fidgeted on the tall stool.

“Slytherin!” the hat shouted with gusto.

And Sirius found himself staring, unable to breathe, at his brother. Regulus smiled widely. Then his eyes caught Sirius’. They stared at one another; Reg’s smile had faltered just a tiny bit. But then the smile brightened as the Slytherins cheered from their table. Regulus handed the hat back to the Deputy Headmistress and sauntered over to his table, accepting congratulations from his new family.

And then Sirius watched, his empty stomach churning with anger as he watched his brother choose a seat next to Snape. The scrawny boy nodded at Regulus’ smile. Sirius’ fists clenched the napkin in his fist as Snape stuck out a bony hand to the new kid. Regulus accepted the gesture, and with that simple handshake, Regulus became a member of the Slytherin gang which Snape belonged to.

The gang the Marauders loathed. The gang that went against everything Sirius had learned to love.

--

1975

“Come on Snape. She’s a mudblood,” Caulfield scoffed as Severus hung back, after having just told his friends that he wouldn’t be joining their ‘study session’. Severus felt the heat rising in his pale cheeks at Caulfield’s use of the word that had almost lost him Lily’s friendship forever. But he couldn’t correct the older boy. Not when Tobias had ears all over Hogwarts. He had already sent him a howler in his dorm room when he’d found out that his son had not stopped fraternizing with Lily.

“She’s in my study group,” Severus explained with a pathetic wave of his hand, wishing he had the courage to stand up to his father. But at least he hadn’t had to lie—Lily wouldn’t have liked that. Dumbledore had arranged it so that the combined class of Slytherins and Gryffindors in fifth-year Herbology was now formed into study groups. They were supposed to meet twice a week.

“Herbology?” Regulus spoke up from beside him. “You’re aces at Herbology. You don’t need to go to a study group full of half-blood idiots,” he told Severus. Severus grimaced, and hoped the others would take it as a sign that he disliked the situation as much as they expected him to.

“Bader said she’d take points if we missed the sessions,” he told them. The other boys groaned.

“She’ll probably take even more from you,” Caulfield growled, reminding the others of Bader’s often blatantly inequitable treatment of the Slytherins. In fact, with the exception of their own Head of House, most of the teachers often did the same. Even Lily had admitted it, always frowning over the topic.

“It’s beastly,” she’d said on more than one occasion, and each time Severus had almost smiled at her furrowed scarlet brows. She always looked exceptionally pretty when she frowned.

“Well, at least try to persuade them to change the night,” Regulus suggested, with his own scowl. “The other Slytherins in the group will agree with you.”

Severus shifted uncomfortably. His father would have punished his knuckles for such a display of emotion. “I’m the only one,” he told them, pulling down the corners of his mouth to match Regulus’.

“That bitch,” Yaxley spat, causing the other boys to laugh at the invective. Severus nodded along with them, well aware that the movement of his head was probably too stiff to be completely believable. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up with this.

“We’ll fill you in after curfew,” Caulfield promised when the others has stopped giggling at the offensive word. “Don’t let those Mudbloods get to you, Severus,” he encouraged with a heavy pat to Severus’ shoulder. The hand seemed a little too heavy to actually mean to convey only comfort.

Severus nodded in what he hoped was a grateful manner. The seventh-year Prefect, already marked as the Dark Lord’s own, smiled at him and led the others down toward the dungeons. Severus had a very difficult time stifling a relieved sigh as soon as they turned away.

He’d made it all the way to the library, when the familiar jeering voice stopped him.

“Don’t you have your pureblooded hate club tonight?”

Severus barely paused as he rounded the corner that would lead him straight to the library door. Three bodies blocked his way. He stared at the Gryffindor-colored tie in front of him, refusing to give Black the satisfaction of forcing him to look up. Damn his late growth-spurt anyway, he fumed silently.

“You know, Snivellus…the one you force all the firsties to join as soon as the opening feast ends,” Black continued in his cruel voice. “After all,” he drawled, “you want to be certain they are all brainwashed to believe the idiocy all of Slytherin stands for, don’t you?”

Severus took a step away from the cluster of Gryffindors, hating himself for being so weak. His father probably would have been proud of him if he beat up the boy considered to be a blood-traitor by all of pureblood society, he realized with an ironic twist of his lip. But even if he could have won, he wouldn’t really consider starting such a fight. Not after what had happened with Lily. He wasn’t going to disappoint her again.

“I need to go into the library,” he said quietly, sounding exactly like the coward Tobias always told him he was. He took a step, intending to go around the trio, but a hard hand stopped him. Despite his own promise not to do so, Severus looked up.

“But you’ll miss your Dark Wizard-worship club, Snivellus.” Black smiled at him mockingly. “Don’t you think Regulus will miss you?” he asked, and something even darker than hatred glinted in Black’s eyes. “He is your best mate, isn’t he?”

“It is difficult to believe he is your brother, isn’t it?” Severus retorted, before he could stop himself.

“Anyone who hates my friends because of their blood status, doesn’t deserve to be my brother,” Black spat back at him. Severus raised a curious eyebrow at the display.

“Funny,” he sneered, “he doesn’t think you deserve to be his brother, either.”

Severus watched in satisfaction as Black’s face burned scarlet. Black’s fingers curled around the loose black fabric at Severus’ chest. He pulled Severus toward him furiously.

“Sirius!”

Black’s head whipped around at the indignant shout. So did Potter’s. Pettigrew simply ducked his head in shame.

“Let him go,” Lily ordered, her emerald eyes flashing at each Marauder in turn. Her slender fingers flexed against her hips as she glared. Black’s fingers slackened. Severus hurriedly stepped away from the volatile Gryffindor, his face flushing in shame as Lily came to his rescue for the second time in less than a week. But he forced himself to remain silent this time. His father’s lessons would finally come to some use; Tobias had taught him the art of silence many times.

“Lily, we were just-” Potter started to say, even as he ran a casual hand through his unruly black hair.

“Save it, Potter,” she ordered with a scowl. “We have study group,” she informed them icily. Only then did Severus notice Lupin, standing slightly behind Lily, looking guiltily between his friends and Severus. He said nothing to either party as Lily gestured to Severus. Severus didn’t look at his tormentors, not wanting to see any of the sneers that indicated he was weak for allowing a girl to fight his battles. He simply moved toward Lily. With a haughty lift of her chin, she took Severus’ long-fingered hand in her own and marched toward the library.

He figured Lupin was following behind, but he couldn’t really pay attention. Lily was holding his hand. A slow tingle began to burn through his chest.

--

1977

“You’re making a huge mistake, Reg,” Sirius pleaded, grabbing his younger brother’s arm as Regulus tried to ascend the moving staircase.

“I’m making our parents proud, brother,” Regulus returned, the words more vicious than any others he could have delivered. And Sirius hated the way he used the word ‘brother’, simply to make a point. When Sirius had nothing to counter his statement with, Regulus wrenched his arm away. “At least they have one loyal son,” Regulus said coldly. He lifted his chin a little, gazing down at Sirius with haughty eyes. Sirius thought he could see uncertainty in the familiar eyes, but then Regulus narrowed them slightly, and there was nothing but contempt within their depths. Regulus made a sniffing noise and turning to join the other Slytherins further up the stairs. They turned away in disdain as soon as Regulus joined them.

Sirius stared after his little brother, hating his mother more than he ever had. More than he had after she had spent their last ten screeching minutes together last summer telling him exactly how much of a disappoint he was to her. More even than he had when she had brought her youngest son to her bosom and told him how much she loved him—words she had never wasted on Sirius.

“You all right, Padfoot?”

Sirius dragged his gaze from his brother’s back. He attempted a half smile at his friend, adding a little shrug for good measure.

“You know Dumbledore warned me about this,” he reminded James, indicating with his tone that he didn’t care that his brother was about to commit his loyalty to Voldemort. James smiled sadly at him.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he assured Sirius quietly. Sirius swallowed the ache in his throat as he thought of his little brother. And all the times they’d spent playing together in their old house. It had been easier then, when there had been nothing but cranky house-elves to interfere with them.

Sirius sighed, the sound coming from deep within his chest as he turned away from the stairs. Familiar, tinkling laughter made him scowl. The scowl deepened as he caught sight of the source of that lovely sound, and her friend. James had stiffened beside him, though his anger was for an entirely different reason than Sirius’.

Damn you, Sirius wanted to shout at the tall Slytherin walking so close to Lily that he could see no air between them.

He didn’t believe for an instant that Snivellus had changed, no matter what Lily insisted. This was his fault. It was Snape’s fault that Regulus would be marching with a madman’s army. Regulus had come to Hogwarts, without the stain of hatred marring his heart. But Severus had taken him under his wing and taught him how to despise his own brother.

And Sirius vowed as he watched the slippery serpent enticing another innocent, that he would find a way to make Regulus understand who Snape was—who their Master was. But Sirius was denied that chance. He never saw his little brother again.

--

1996

Harry knew his anger was unfair, irrational even. But he couldn’t help it as he watched his godfather, staring at Severus with loathing. And his mind travelled back unwillingly to the cruelty he’d witnessed in the Pensieve. They’d had no reason for what they’d done—no reason except the ambiguous, “We were idiots.”

Harry swallowed and turned his eyes back to his father. “I’m sorry about how he treated you,” he offered quietly on his godfather’s behalf. It was the least he could do, since it was unlikely that Sirius would ever offer such words. Severus’ eyes softened with concern as he studied his son.

“It was many years ago, Harry. And it is not your responsibility to apologize for the actions of others.” Even though Harry knew that it was meant as an admonishment, he could feel his father’s affection.

“I know, but you didn’t deserve that,” Harry said anyway, ignoring his father’s direction not to apologize for Sirius. Severus was silent for a moment.

“Black has his own reasons for what passed between us,” he finally said, confusing Harry immensely.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Yeah, Snape, why don’t you tell him?”

Harry turned around. Sirius, his arms crossed over his chest, was slouching next to Remus, looking deceptively relaxed, but Harry could read the tension all over his face. Remus was frowning at Sirius. Harry looked between his father and Sirius, feeling a heavy weight settling in his ribcage.

“I do not believe this discussion is an appropriate one for-”

Sirius snorted. “What’s the matter, Snape? Don’t want Harry to know about your youthful indiscretions?”

“Sirius,” Remus began, his voice a low warning, but Sirius paid no attention as he glared at Severus, his eyebrows raised in challenge.

Before his father had a chance to say a word, Harry was already shaking his head. “Sirius, you don’t understand-”

“He was a Death Eater, Harry!” Sirius exploded, almost vibrating with agitation.

“He wasn’t!” Harry shot back, his eyes flashing in irritation. “You haven’t any idea what you’re talking about, Sirius!”

“Yes, I have, Harry,” Sirius growled, though he was looking at Severus. “Snape was part of a group of Slytherins that were dedicated to joining Voldemort the moment they turned sixteen, and all of them did. Didn’t they?” he demanded of Severus. “You made certain of that, didn’t you?”

“ He didn’t do anything!”

“Didn’t do anything?” Sirius repeated, actually shouting now. That had Severus turning around. His eyes were narrowed. “My brother’s dead because of him!”

“Do not shout at my son,” Severus ordered, in his slow, dangerous voice, giving Harry no chance to ask Sirius what he meant.

“Your son,” Sirius mocked, though Harry noticed he was no longer shouting. “I haven’t seen any proof,” he said in a hard voice, looking pointedly at Severus.

A throat cleared behind them. And Harry found Dumbledore standing behind Sirius. Poppy was still there as well, glaring at all of them. Dumbledore waved his hand; a scroll appeared in his palm. He handed it to Sirius with a gentle smile.

With jerky movements, Sirius untied the yellow and green striped ribbon. The scroll unwound itself, hovering in front of them. It was the record of Harry’s birth, announcing clearly that Harry had been born to Lily Evans and Severus Snape. And he had been born Harry James Snape. The name winked out at Sirius, taunting him. But all the names had been scribed there with intrinsic magic, and Harry knew Sirius would know that.

He couldn’t deny the truth.

Sirius stared at the parchment for a long time, no one in the room making a single sound. Then, without a word either, Sirius plucked the parchment from the air and rolled it into a neat spiral. He held it out to Harry.

“I assume you want this,” he said quietly. Harry took it, even though he already had the first copy Dumbledore had given to him. He and Sirius gazed at one another; Sirius opened his mouth several times, but it seemed he couldn’t quite manage to say whatever was on his mind. But finally, he began speaking hesitantly, looking ill, “I’m sorry, Harry…but I don’t think I can… If only you could understand the things he’s responsible for.”

“He was never a Death Eater,” Harry repeated through terse lips, wondering if his godfather had always been so thick and knowing as well that the thought was unfair.

Sirius dragged his fingers roughly through his wavy black hair. “Harry-”

Remus touched his arm. “It’s not Severus’ fault, Padfoot.”

Sirius whirled on him. “Not his fault?” he echoed roughly. “Who do you think taught Regulus all about blood purity, Remus?” he demanded in a crushing voice. “Who was it that encouraged him to join their Junior Death Eaters Association?” he asked in a raspy voice.

Harry had never heard so much pain in Sirius’ voice.

Remus drew a slow breath through his nostrils. “Your parents, Sirius.”

Sirius’ breathing was ragged and heavy. The statement seemed to destroy him. Remus was watching him warily, and Harry was so confused, he couldn’t help his curiosity even as he felt both irritation and pity for his godfather.

“Your brother was friends with my dad?” he asked. Sirius flinched, obviously not even trying to hide his discomfort anymore. “That’s who he is Sirius,” Harry reminded him, wishing he could explain to Sirius about Tobias and his wish for his son to become part of Voldemort’s inner circle. If anyone should be able to understand…

Sirius looked away from him. “I can’t, Harry…” he said, his voice like sandpaper. Harry stared at him, the hurt swelling over him like a tidal wave.

You can’t? he wanted to shout. Not even for me?

He stilled the quiver in his lips.

“So then, you never did care for me because I was me?” he asked, the words so wretched he could barely stand to say them. “It was always because you thought I was James’ son that you pretended to care about me.” Harry concluded, his shoulders sagging as the realization finally sunk in. He should have known it before.

Sirius’ face had paled. He shook his head. “No, of course not, Harry,” he denied vehemently. But Harry didn’t want to listen to him.

“Even Mrs. Weasley said so.”

“Harry, he just needs some time to see-”

“Don’t speak for me, Remus,” Sirius ordered, his eyes still locked with Harry’s. He shook his head a little bit. “I love you, Harry…whether you believe it or not. You remind me of James; I won’t deny that. But I didn’t spend the past fifteen years caring about you just because of James.”

He swallowed, shaking his head forlornly. “I just found out that my best friend never trusted me enough to tell me you weren’t his son…and that hasn’t made me stop caring for you.” Harry ignored the prickle in his eyes as his godfather continued, “This has nothing to do with James. I just can’t believe that Snape has changed so much. You have no idea what he’s capable of, Harry.”

Harry tried not to glare; he had started to believe that perhaps Sirius would be able to accept this. “You can’t believe it because you don’t want to, Sirius,” he challenged, wishing his voice wouldn’t wobble.

Sirius took a step toward Harry, which was matched by a sideways step by Severus, so that Severus’ side was almost touching Harry’s knee.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Sirius snapped. Severus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “I would never hurt him. He’s my godson.”

Severus simply gazed at him. Sirius’ gray eyes narrowed instantly.

“He is,” he stated, looking furious, but then his voice sort of warbled at the end and he was looking back and forth in horror between Harry and Severus. “…James had no right to name me Godfather…” He seemed to be talking to himself, and Harry thought he could see the echo of the madman he had first seen in the ‘Wanted’ posters before his third year.

“You’re still Harry’s godfather,” Remus assured him. He looked to Severus, his eyebrows raised. “Isn’t that so, Severus?” he asked, giving Severus an encouraging nod. Harry could see the war behind his father’s eyes, the first sign outward sign he’d seen that his father was struggling with Sirius’ return.

He was frankly stunned when Severus pronounced, “Lily and I made the decision that you were to be named Godfather.”

The words were stilted, to be sure, but Severus had offered them nonetheless. Harry wished right then that he could hug his father. He settled for smiling at him. The war ended in the black depths; his father gave him a little nod and the warmth gathering in his eyes made Harry feel more at ease.

“I don’t believe that,” Sirius said flatly. “You hated me, the entire time you lived with James…” He shook his head as though trying to clear the muddle. “…he lived with…” He gritted his teeth and glared at nothing in particular, seeming to decide he couldn’t figure out what he was trying to convey.

“I admit that it was James’ suggestion,” Severus acquiesced the point. Sirius’ head snapped around to goggle at Severus.

“James?!” he repeated as he brought his fists to his sides. And Harry knew exactly what Sirius was thinking. Even he’d had trouble accepting that his father had once been friends with James Potter.

“Sirius, James made a great sacrifice for Severus’ wife and child,” Remus tried to explain, but Sirius was shaking his head wildly.

“James hated you,” he said unsteadily to Severus. Harry could feel his father’s extreme discomfort at the turn in the conversation, so he stepped in quickly.

“They eventually made it up, Sirius. Dad forgave him because of everything he did for us-”

“Snape was training to become a Death Eater, Harry! All of us knew it. Don’t you even understand how many of those Slytherins in Snape’s little club died?”

“That isn’t his fault. You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Sirius!” he added, wanting ever more to divulge all of his father’s secrets. He needed Sirius to understand.

“Harry,” Severus interjected in a low voice, placing a calming hand on Harry’s knee, “there is nothing to be gained from these recriminations…”

“This-this is mad,” Sirius stuttered, as he stared with wild-eyed confusion at Severus’ calm hand on his godson’s knee. And the way Harry was nodding, soothed by Severus’ words. “James hated you. You killed my brother,” he whispered and Harry would have been frightened of the sudden gleam in Sirius’ eye if his father and Remus hadn’t been so close…and Dumbledore, who had inched closer to Sirius at the strangled words.

“You’re my godson,” Sirius told Harry plaintively. “I fell through the Veil and everything’s changed,” he continued to whisper, sounding utterly destroyed. “My best friends think I’m a monster. And Snivellus is my godson’s father. And you, Harry…you’re not even Harry Potter.”

He shook his head fervently, suddenly looking quite deranged. “This can’t be real,” he denied. “I’m still in the Veil and finally they’ve decided to send me to hell.” A calm, almost serene understanding washed over his handsome features. “Yes,” he told himself firmly. “Finally. They’ve let me leave that nothingness.” He smiled at Harry, looking satisfied with his conclusion. Harry darted a worried glance at his father, who gave Dumbledore a pointed look.

The guilt swooped over Harry again. How could he have been so angry, when Sirius was hurting so much? “It’s all right Harry,” Sirius said lazily as he noted Harry’s downturned lips, “you’re not even here. And that greasy git won’t get anywhere near you.”

Sirius’ eyes rolled back into his head and he began to sway. Harry and Remus gasped, but Dumbledore caught Sirius easily. Remus scrambled forward and the two hoisted Sirius easily onto one of the empty beds.

“What happened?” Harry asked, peering around his father’s black robes

“Only a simple Sleeping Spell, my boy,” Dumbledore answered in his customary unconcerned tones. “I believe your godfather is going to need a little more time to adjust to being part of this world again, before he will be able to fully digest all that’s happened in the past few months,” he said sensibly. “I am not certain he’s entirely together after his ordeal,” he added. Harry slumped back against the headboard.

“What if he can’t get used to it?” Harry asked quietly, the feeling of anger at both himself and Sirius surging forward again. And why was he even so worried about it, when Sirius was clearly not well?

Severus had turned to face him again. “His system is in shock, Harry,” he explained. “Black has been alone for sixth months and he returned to find that the world he knew, no longer exists.”

Harry gazed at his father, struggling to find it so easy to understand. “But you’ve accepted that he’s back.”

His father looked like he wanted to sigh. “My feelings toward Black have not changed, I assure you. However, I will not allow his return and your affection for him to come between us,” he said calmly as if it was the simplest thing in the world not to toss careless abuses at his bitter enemy. Had Harry not almost lived and died twice with his father, he would have been none the wiser. The emotions that his father was not bothering to shadow from his flame helped him to understand as well, he supposed.

Harry knew this was not at all easy for his father, but it didn’t matter. His father was willing to do what he had to do. And he knew as well, that it would make little difference if Sirius wouldn’t agree to at least try not to shout at Severus.

“But he wouldn’t hesitate to come between us,” Harry said, wishing it wasn’t true.

“Give him time, Harry.”

Harry started as Remus came to stand opposite Severus beside the bed. Pomfrey and Dumbledore were tending to Sirius; Harry could just see them beyond his father’s shoulder. He pulled his eyes back to Remus, his face flushing again with his embarrassment over how he’d acted. He found he still couldn’t meet Remus’ eyes.

“It isn’t fair to expect him to be able to accept this immediately. All of us have had time to change with the circumstances,” Remus continued easily. Harry nodded obediently as he stared at his sheet-covered legs.

“I know,” he murmured, finding he couldn’t not answer Remus. He had no desire to be at all disrespectful.

There was silence around the bed. Harry finally looked up. Remus was smiling at him, without any acrimony in his gentle face. And Harry scolded himself silently for hurting his friend. His insides felt moth-eaten as he tried to come up with an apology.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” he finally managed to say, the words so stiff, that Harry knew they sounded insincere, but Remus didn’t seem to notice.

“It wasn’t your fault, Harry,” he assured him, sounding like an echo of Severus’ earlier claim. Harry shook his head.

“Even if Voldemort took a part of me, I had no right to speak to you the way I did,” he said quietly, his cheeks warming still as he remembered the way he’d purposely tried to hurt Remus by calling him Professor and Sir. He grimaced, looking down at the sheet again. “You should have given me detention,” he said miserably. He felt Remus take his hand. Harry looked up again.

“I shouldn’t have suggested that,” he said with a slight grimace of his own. “I was a bit out of sorts and I think I let that get the better of me,” he admitted. Harry frowned, not willing to let Remus blame himself anymore than he had been willing to let his father take the blame for his behavior.

“Well, I was being a prat. Arguing with you and being so rude,” he said, still feeling terrible. “I’m sorry and I’m sorry I wasn’t sorry about it before,” he added, feeling even more ashamed with that admission. “And after everything you’ve done for me, I was selfish and I wouldn’t blame you if you-”

Remus chuckled. Harry looked up quickly.

“Harry,” he said in his best light, scolding tones, “I’m certainly not going to declare our friendship null and void simply because you were impolite.” Harry didn’t know what to say to that, especially as he’d been much more than impolite. “You do realize that, don’t you?” Remus asked, his tone much more serious as Harry remained silent. Harry bit his lip, but before he could say anything, Remus was pulling Harry into his fourth hug of the night.

Harry, feeling very relieved, squeezed his friend right back. “I am sorry, Remus,” he said again. Just in case Remus realized he should still be angry with him. Remus patted his back before pulling away.

“I know, Harry. I accept your apology, and I’m not angry with you,” he assured him. Harry managed a tentative smile. Remus returned it without hesitation. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder and then turned abruptly to Severus, the movement so sharp that Severus blinked, his face no longer looking relaxed.

“It occurs to me, Severus,” Remus began in a formal voice, “that I never apologized to you for my own role in James’ and Sirius’ mistreatment of you.”

Severus stared at him, and Harry found himself having a very difficult time keeping his mouth closed. Remus was gazing at Severus calmly.

“I’m sorry I never tried to stop them from bullying you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere and Harry could clearly hear the pain his past mistakes were causing him. “I was no better than they were, and I have no excuse other than a misguided wish to be accepted by my peers. I’m truly sorry, Severus.”

Severus had turned away from Remus; his eyes were blank as he stared at one of the flickering sconces on the wall. Harry watched his father, his breath held as he waited. He knew it was very unlikely that would his dad would accept the apology; it was more likely that Severus would snap at Remus to cover the emotions he didn’t wish to put on display.

“You don’t need to accept my apology,” Remus told him. “I don’t expect you to, but I needed to tell you.”

The sconce continued to flicker steadily.

And then Severus’ words were barely audible as he turned his gaze for a single moment toward Remus. “Thank you, Remus.”

His eyes slid back to the sconce, and silence formed around them.

Harry felt his chest expanding with relief as he looked between his father and Remus. Remus was smiling, the expression full of his own relief. And though nobody else would have ever noticed, Severus’ mouth had relaxed as well. Something had been solidified between the three of them. It was tangible in the air. Harry grinned.

But with a jolt of disappointment, Harry realized he couldn’t enjoy it. He turned to look at Sirius. Sirius, a man he’d thought of as his only family for years was lying in the bed next to them, confused and hurt. And Harry hadn’t done anything to help him. He’d only made it worse. He couldn’t seem to do anything right lately.

With a sigh, he turned back to his father and Remus. Severus was watching him closely. Harry sighed again, not knowing how to make any of this better.

“I did befriend Regulus,” Severus spoke up suddenly. Harry frowned at him.

“But you didn’t make him become a Death Eater,” he objected, not liking the tone of his father’s voice.

“Nor did I do anything to discourage him when we were young,” Severus countered. “Many of the Slytherins were encouraged by their parents to become part of Voldemort’s cause. I joined the group of hopefuls as soon as I began here…under Lucius’ direction at the time. All of us meant to take the Dark Mark as soon as we reached our sixteenth year.”

“But your father made you join them, didn’t he?” Harry contradicted, feeling very uncomfortable with this conversation. Severus nodded.

“I will not deny my own culpability however,” he said quietly. “All of us were products of a mistaken ideology, drilled into us by our parents, but I believed it just as fully as Lucius and Bellatrix did at one point, Harry. And I did invite the younger students to join our group, just as surely as Lucius did.” Harry could feel his heart beginning to pound in his chest. His father squeezed his knee. “Muggles would call it brain-washing,” he tried to explain, and Harry nodded shakily, understanding the concept perfectly well.

“But you stopped believing it,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound too much like a question, and he was glad when his father didn’t look at all offended.

“It was almost impossible at fifteen, to go against everything my family held dear. And by the time I did make the decision to rebel against Tobias, Regulus was mired too deeply in Voldemort’s cause. I tried only once to dissuade him.” He paused, darkness flashing in his eyes. “I had to Obliviate the conversation from his memory when he threatened to tell the others of my treachery.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “You did?”

Severus nodded. “They would not have tolerated my defection,” he explained, not needing to elaborate. Severus pursed his lips before adding quietly, “I never mentioned it again, and no one else benefitted from my enlightenment.”

It was as if he was agreeing that Sirius had the right to hate him. There was already a huge pit in the middle of Harry’s stomach, but he said anyway, “It’s not your fault that they couldn’t see past it. You did,” he reminded his father, realizing this was just one more thing for his father to feel guilty over, and Harry wanted to dispel the unnecessary guilt.

Severus nodded, his eyes wistful as he murmured, “They did not have Lily.”

August, 1976

“You ungrateful bastard!” Tobias snarled as he took a step toward his tall son.

Severus caught Tobias’ fist as it sailed toward his face. The automatic reaction surprised him. But feeling oddly triumphant, he gripped his father’s fist and gave it a hard shove. Tobias stumbled backward. He caught the edge of his desk before he fell. He growled in a way that had menaced Severus his entire childhood.

“How dare you?” Tobias spat through whitened lips. His hands moved immediately to his belt, but Severus was faster. Tobias froze as he found his son’s ebony wand right in front of his nose.

“I am not a child any longer.” His voice was shaking slightly. He had never dared defy his father. But he wasn’t going to allow Tobias to strike him. Not ever again.

“As long as I am your father, you will do as I say, Severus.” Tobias had regained his cold, deadly tone. The familiar words made Severus feel slightly light-headed; they were always followed by the sharp snap of the finest dragon’s hide leather against his backside. To start with.

Severus ignored the memories. “No.” His voice was very quiet; he would leave this encounter with dignity. Lily would be proud of him. There were only a few more days until he would see her at King’s Cross before the start of their seventh year.

“I only agreed to allow you your apprenticeship this summer because your skills will be of great use to the Dark Lord.”

“I will not serve him. You knew that I had no plans to take the Mark,” Severus reminded the dark-haired man before him. It took all his efforts to keep his voice from trembling.

“I gave you another year, Severus, with the hope that you would come to your senses!” Tobias snarled at him.

“The extra year only solidified my repugnance for everything you ever taught me,” Severus returned evenly, and was shocked by his words—and the cold hatred he could hear in his own voice. His father’s face burned scarlet. Severus watched as his father pulled his emotions back under control, his own control wavering. Tobias raised a thin, black eyebrow.

“You will do as you’re told, Severus, or you will no longer be my son.”

The threat chilled the air between them.

Severus stared into the unflinching coal eyes of his father, his heart beating erratically against his eardrums. These words should not hurt! He despised this man—had feared his cruelty for too many years. But somehow, Severus could no longer feel his fingers.

He lowered his wand. Tobias smiled in cold satisfaction.

“Goodbye, sir,” Severus said tonelessly. He stayed where he was only long enough to watch as his father’s eyebrows shot upward into his black fringe. Severus pivoted away from his father.

“You deceitful, ungrateful-”

There were sputtering sounds behind Severus as he hurried out of the study. His feet were propelling him forward. He had to get away. He didn’t even stop to wonder why Tobias was no longer shouting abuses at him.

--

1996

Harry couldn’t even begin to process the things his father had just tried to tell him. Or the things Sirius had tried to tell him. He didn’t want to think about any of it.

“You have some questions, I assume?” Severus queried from above. Harry shrugged, even though he really did have loads of things he needed to understand. He pulled a deep, unsettled breath in through his nose as his gaze traveled unbidden, back to his godfather. Severus nodded lightly. “We will have time after you rest. And you will be able to speak with Black as well.” He paused, a small smile lighting his dark eyes. “Perhaps the conversation will go more smoothly if I am not so near.”

Harry wasn’t at all amused.

“You need to sleep as well, Severus,” Pomfrey interjected tartly as she left Sirius’ side. Severus dipped his head in acknowledgement, his eyes focused only on Harry, and Harry was almost certain that it wouldn’t be that simple to get his father to rest.

Harry also wanted to tell his dad that he wasn’t particularly interested in having him leave his side, but Pomfrey continued to prattle on about how much sleep all of them needed. Harry pressed his palms over his eyes as he let his head fall back against the iron headboard. He could feel the dull ache of a new headache burgeoning behind his lids.

“Perhaps it would be best if you took Harry back to your quarters, Severus,” Pomfrey’s voice floated down. “Both of you can sleep uninterrupted,” she hinted. Harry looked up in surprise at the suggestion. Pomfrey smiled thinly at him. “I never had any intentions of keeping you as my prisoner in here, Harry.”

Harry flushed, thinking that was exactly what he thought the Mediwitch had had in mind.

“Do you have a headache?” Severus asked as he continued to study Harry, ignoring Pomfrey for now. Harry nodded. His father frowned in thought. “You only had one bottle of firewhisky last night, correct?” he asked. Harry’s eyes widened a little as he remembered the party in the tower, as well as what had happened with Ginny in his room. His face began to burn in earnest as he realized his father would have found Ginny in his bed.

Before he could answer, McGonagall’s disapproving voice cut in, “Only, Severus?”

Dumbledore and McGonagall, followed by Harry’s three concerned friends, came from the shadows of the other side of the long room.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore interjected gently, “I believe a discussion on last night’s events can wait.”

McGonagall glanced fleetingly over at the Headmaster and then turned back to Harry, her lips pinched sourly. “I am glad you’re back safely with us, Mr. Po—Mr. Snape,” she conceded. “And Professor Dumbledore has explained that you need time to recover from your various ordeals. However—and I am certain your father will agree—I am not inclined to ignore last night’s behavior. Do you understand?” she asked pointedly.

Harry’s face was still flaming as he nodded. “Yes ma’am,” he said quietly, not even daring to look at his father, certain that he would be glaring at him as well.

“I am quite capable of speaking for myself, thank you, Minerva.”

Harry looked up then, surprised by his father’s cold voice. Severus was gazing at McGonagall, as if daring her to argue with him. McGonagall, looking startled, opened her mouth to retort, but Dumbledore took her elbow and gently guided the Deputy Headmistress away from Harry’s bed, saying quietly, “There are extenuating circumstances…”

“Oh, Harry, we were so worried about you,” Hermione’s voice broke over Dumbledore’s hushed voice.

Harry peeled his eyes from McGonagall, whose expression had changed a little so she didn’t look quite as irritated. Hermione was staring at him, her brown eyes huge with worry. Ron, standing very close to her side, nodded in agreement. Ginny had wasted no time in coming to stand beside Severus. Without a word, she leaned over and hugged Harry so tightly, he was momentarily afraid she would crack his ribs.

“Oi, Ginny, he can’t breathe.”

Harry glanced up at Ron. Ron smiled at him, raising his eyebrows a little bit. Harry returned the smile, knowing that was all he and Ron would say about what a berk Harry had been over the past few days. Especially, as Ron had only really been angry on Ginny’s behalf, and Ginny had obviously filled Ron’s head with stories of Harry having not been able to help himself. But since it was obvious that Ginny wasn’t angry with him, Ron’s own anger was easily deflated. He wanted to say something, to apologize properly to his best mate, but he didn’t really want to do it with everyone standing around. He knew Ron wouldn’t want that either.

“Sorry,” Ginny mumbled against his neck after a moment, before she pulled back. Ginny had deep shadows under her eyes. And her usually sparkling brown eyes were cloudy.

“I’m all right, Gin,” Harry tried to reassure her. She nodded jerkily. She almost looked uncomfortable and Harry wondered with sudden embarrassment, if she was thinking about the time they’d spent in his bed. He felt his face heating once more, and he found it very difficult to look anyone in the eye. Luckily, Pomfrey stepped in again, so that Harry’s awkwardness was covered.

“Remus, if you are ready now, I’d like to begin my Diagnostics,” the Mediwitch said sternly, eyeing Remus critically. He looked reluctant, but he nodded anyway. Pomfrey beckoned him to sit on the bed beside Harry’s. Remus obeyed, arranging his old brown robes around his legs. Harry didn’t realize he was staring, until Remus smiled at him.

“Don’t worry. Madame Pomfrey doesn’t bite,” he said, trying to look very serious. Harry grinned.

“She does, if you don’t cooperate,” he returned. Pomfrey eyed him as she moved toward Remus.

“Rest, Mr. Snape, or you and that bed will become very good friends, indeed.”

“I’m lying down,” he objected indignantly, glad to have a distraction from both Ginny and Sirius, for the moment.

“See what you can do about getting your mouth to take a rest as well, then,” Pomfrey suggested. She didn’t wait for a response as she turned swiftly to a chuckling Remus and began waving her wand up and down.

“Did you get to talk to Sirius, Harry?” Hermione spoke up, glancing expectantly toward Sirius and then back to Harry again. Ridiculously, Harry’s stomach danced with her question. He nodded though, and Hermione and Ron were grinning. “It’s amazing, Harry. To think, that after all-”

“Severus.”

Pomfrey’s sharp voice cut across Hermione’s excited gushing. Everyone turned to the Mediwitch. She had a funny look on her face.

“What is it?” Remus asked, not sounding anxious at all. Pomfrey shook her head.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Severus. I would like your assistance,” she said evasively. She sounded strange as well. Severus, his head tilted in confusion, went to stand with Pomfrey, effectively blocking Remus from view, even when Harry leaned forward as much as he could. “Perform a Diagnostic Spell, if you would, Severus,” Pomfrey directed. She stepped back, giving Severus space to wave his wand.

And then there was silence.

“What is it Severus?” Remus’ voice was a far sight more anxious this time. And Harry, not caring that Pomfrey and his father would likely snap at him to get back into bed, flipped his covers aside and scooted off the edge of the bed, wobbling only slightly as his socked feet hit the floor.

His father and Pomfrey were glancing at one another. “Not a trace?” Pomfrey asked quietly. Severus shook his head.

“His blood is completely free of it,” Severus answered, just as quietly. Both of them looked very confused.

“What’s going on?” Harry demanded as soon as he reached his father’s side; Remus’ face had gone pale.

“You can’t mean…?” Remus asked, looking back and forth between Pomfrey and Severus, paying no attention to Harry standing right in front of him. Severus nodded. “It’s not possible,” Remus told them, sounding both desperate and madly hopeful all at the same time. “There’s no cure!”

“Cure?” Harry echoed, beginning to feel very concerned over what they were talking about. What could have happened to Remus that he would need a cure? “Dad? What’s happened?”

Severus turned to him, seeming to notice him for the first time.

“Severus?”

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall had joined them. Harry’s friends were just beyond their shoulders.

Pomfrey looked around at the worried faces surrounding Remus. She reached out and gently shook Remus’ arm. “Remus?” she prodded. Remus looked up dazedly at her query. His eyes focused a little as he found Harry. He nodded. Pomfrey turned to Dumbledore.

“There is no trace of the dark agent that used to be in Remus’ blood,” she told him, her voice brisk and business-like. McGonagall gasped, and even Dumbledore’s eyes widened a little. His wand was in his hand a second later.

“May I?” he queried of Remus, indicating his hand. Remus nodded and held out his left hand, palm up. Dumbledore aimed his wand at the crisscrossed skin and muttered a spell. The palm was sliced open, and somehow a vial was in Dumbledore’s other hand. A thin stream of blood trailed from the wound and into the vial. With another incantation, the wound was healed again. Dumbledore smiled at Remus, patted his hand and without a word, he disappeared into Pomfrey’s Floo.

“What is it?” Harry finally exploded, feeling like he had through the past months, when secrets were still being pranced all around him. He ignored all the eyes that turned toward him. Except his father’s. “What’s wrong with Remus?” he grated through his teeth. Severus frowned, looking like he was deep in thought.

“He’s not a werewolf, anymore, Harry.”

Harry turned sharply to Hermione, who was gazing at Remus with incredulity. And then Harry turned back to Remus. Remus swallowed, as he shook his head. He opened his mouth once, and then slowly, so slowly, closed it again.

“We cannot be certain,” Pomfrey explained. “Professor Dumbledore will perform some tests on Professor Lupin’s blood…” Pomfrey shook her head, as if remembering something very important. She pierced the four children with a stern glare. “None of you are to say a word about this. You shouldn’t even have heard any of this discussion. Not a word, do you understand?”

Harry and his friends nodded.

“If you will excuse us, then,” Pomfrey continued, losing none of her terse tone, “I need to speak to Professors Lupin and Snape.”

Harry stiffened indignantly. But Lupin waved away Pomfrey’s suggestion. “It’s all right Poppy,” he said tiredly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Pomfrey returned, her eyes huge. “This is-”

“It’s nothing,” Remus interrupted, his words uncharacteristically snappish. “Just some kind of mistake…my life signs are probably simply reading wrong after being beyond the Veil.” He was waving his hand in a random fashion, that Harry supposed was meant to be nonchalant. It wasn’t at all.

“Were Black’s life signs normal?” Severus asked, turning his head to Pomfrey. Pomfrey nodded immediately. Severus nodded. “Perform the same Diagnostic Spell on me,” he ordered. Pomfrey complied. When she finished, she gave Remus a satisfied look.

“Severus’ reading is perfectly normal,” she told him triumphantly. “We’ll need to run several more tests, of course and you’ll need to spend at least one full moon cycle without aid of Severus’ Wolfsbane to be certain, don’t you agree, Severus, but-”

Remus swore loudly as he pushed himself up from the bed. “It can’t be as simple as all that! I’ve been a werewolf for more than thirty years. It can’t just be gone!” Remus’ shouting was directed at Severus, though Harry had no idea why. His father was gazing at Remus calmly, no expression on his face.

Pomfrey and McGonagall were staring at Remus, their mouths agape, and none of Harry’s friends were faring much better.

“There is no trace of the-”

“Do you hear what you’re saying, Severus?” Remus demanded, throwing his arms agitatedly into the air, and Harry was dimly aware that McGonagall was ushering his friends off to the side of the room again. “Just like that, and poof, it’s all gone?” He snapped his fingers very close to Severus’ face. Severus didn’t even blink. “No more disease? No more inhuman monster?” He was almost shouting.

Remus’ chest was rising and falling rapidly, his breaths loud and furious as he glared at Severus. Harry stared at him, wishing he could understand what had set his friend off.

“Are you finished?” Severus inquired, his lip curling a little, though he wasn’t sneering. Not exactly.

Remus stared at him, and then his shoulders sagged. He looked dejected. “I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. He brought his fingers up to his temples and rubbed repetitive circles into the pressure points.

Harry glanced at his father. Severus met his gaze, his eyes dark, but Harry could tell it was due to his discomfort with whatever Remus was going through. Harry gave his dad a little nod and stepped closer to Remus.

“What’s wrong, Remus?” he pressed gently. “If what Pomfrey and my dad said is true, why aren’t you happy?” Remus should have been shouting for joy. His ‘condition’ had brought him nothing but misery for the better part of his life.

Remus brought his head up. His brown eyes were full of pain. He leaned against the edge of the bed; it creaked a little with his weight. “I broke off my engagement with Tonks.” The whispered words seemed to squeeze Harry’s heart.

“What?” he whispered back. “Why, Remus?”

Remus sighed, the sound coming from deep within his gut. But he shook his head.

“Scrimgeour is attempting to force him out of his position at Hogwarts.”

Severus’ voice was cold through. Harry’s eyes widened with outrage.

“What?” he demanded. “Is that why you weren’t at the banquet? Did Scrimgeour un-invite you?”

Remus turned to frown at Severus. “I asked you not to tell Harry.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I do believe you were owed that,” he returned cooly. Remus looked surprised, but then was shooting Severus a narrow-eyed glare.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?” Harry asked quietly, crushed by this bit of news, and knowing it was because of the way he’d been acting lately. Remus obviously hadn’t trusted him to care at all about his problems. “I mean…I understand that you thought I wouldn’t care-”

“Harry,” Remus interrupted, sounding appalled at his friend’s ramble. “Of course I didn’t think that. I simply didn’t want you to insist on speaking to the Minister on my behalf, and yes, the Minister rescinded my invitation to the banquet,” he explained. Harry looked away. If he could help it, he would choose never to speak to Scrimgeour again. He scowled at nothing in particular. His father was watching him, the concern evident in his black eyes.

“Harry,” he said quietly, “perhaps we should discuss this after you have rested.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m all right.” He turned back to Remus, not wanting his dad to insist that he leave it. “You broke off your engagement because you won’t have a job, then?”

Remus sighed again. “Not exactly,” he hedged. Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly, ignoring the slight feeling that he was intruding in Remus’ personal life. But Remus clearly needed someone to talk to, and as Harry had basically been a walking pain in the arse for days now, he owed his friend this much. “Tonks’ parents weren’t exactly pleased with her choice of a husband,” Remus told him sadly. Anger flared up in Harry’s chest.

“Because you’re a werewolf,” he stated flatly, doing his best not to let his irritation at Tonks’ parents show. Remus nodded tiredly.

“I don’t blame them, of course. Tonks is their only child, and no parent would want their child to marry a werewolf.”

“But they don’t even know you,” Harry said in objection, irritated as hell at such bigotry. Remus smiled a little, the expression sadder even than his eyes.

“If you had known I was a werewolf before you got to know me as something else, how would you have felt about me?” he asked quietly. Harry didn’t know how to answer that. It wasn’t a fair question, though. He would have been scared, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Remus. But Remus nodded in understanding anyway. “It isn’t their fault. Most wizards fear werewolves.”

“But Tonks doesn’t,” Harry reminded him. Remus shrugged.

“Tonks is special,” he agreed. He smiled sadly. “It’s complicated…I can’t put her through everything that comes with being a werewolf. I thought, for awhile, that it could work. But, if we were to have children…to have children who were ashamed of their father…” Remus shook his head agitatedly.

“Remus, your children could never be ashamed of you,” Harry told him firmly. “No one who loves you has ever cared about that part of you. Your friends didn’t abandon you, did they, when they found out?” he pointed out. Remus got a faraway look in his eyes and Harry turned to look at Sirius with him.

“I’m not sure things will ever be the same between us,” Remus murmured. Harry turned back to his friend sharply.

“What do you mean?” he asked, remembering that Sirius has snapped at Remus a few times, but hadn’t understood why at the time, and he still didn’t understand. Remus didn’t answer him, though his eyes did slide in a very suspicious manner toward Severus. Harry turned to his father. “What happened?” he asked curiously. Severus pointed to Harry’s bed.

“You are supposed to be resting,” he reminded his son. Harry hopped obediently back onto the bed, still looking at his dad.

“Well?” he asked when his back was once more against the headboard. He could tell his father was trying very hard not to smile.

“I did not plan to tell Black that I am your father,” Severus told him, after his face was a mask again. “Voldemort told him in an effort to weaken us. Black was less than pleased that he wasn’t told immediately.”

Harry sighed. “So, he’s mad at you for not telling him?” he asked Remus, understanding where Sirius obviously couldn’t, why they hadn’t told his godfather anything. Remus nodded.

“I promised your father I wouldn’t say anything. Sirius didn’t understand that,” he explained with a shrug.

“You told me to give him time. I’m sure he’ll forgive you after he’s had time to adjust, just like you said.”

Remus said nothing, but he looked unconvinced. And again, his eyes darted to Severus. Before Harry had a chance to ask what that had been about, the Floo roared, and Dumbledore stepped back through. He was smiling. He came over and handed the little vial of blood back to Remus. “The dark magic has been expelled, Remus. It’s as if it was never even there at all,” he told Remus happily. Remus was staring at the vial of blood.

“But it isn’t possible, Albus…”

“Impossible is a Muggle misconception,” Dumbledore chided. He smiled when Remus continued to shake his head in disbelief. “Your blood is pure again, Remus. Just as it was when you were a child, before Greyback used you for his revenge.”

Silence enveloped the room.

“How can that be?”

Albus smiled. “Consider it a gift from the Veil,” he offered gently. He patted Remus’ arm lightly. “I have several appointments in the morning,” he added to Severus and Pomfrey. Pomfrey nodded, her eyes locked on Remus. Dumbledore gave Harry’s shoulder a light squeeze and then he left, through the door this time.

“Remus?” Harry queried when Remus didn’t do anything other than stare at the opposite wall. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t…”

“But everything will be all right with Tonks now,” Harry said encouragingly, still not understanding why Remus wasn’t excited. “And Scrimgeour can’t make you stop teaching now.”

Remus shook his head. “It’s not that simple Harry. What will I even tell the Minister? We can’t tell anyone we used the Veil and I don’t even know for certain that it’s even true.”

Harry frowned at that. If they couldn’t tell anyone about the Veil, how would they explain Sirius’ sudden return? “We’ll think of something,” he said anyway. He glanced at his dad for confirmation. “Right, Dad?”

Severus nodded. “Albus will, I am certain,” he agreed. Harry cocked his head to the side. His dad’s voice was off. He sounded distracted.

“We will continue to monitor your blood, Remus and we’ll need you to go through a cycle of the full moon on your own, without the Wolfsbane, to be certain,” Pomfrey told him again, trying to reassure him.

“It is a sound precaution,” Severus said with a quick nod.

“And you can talk to Tonks in the meantime,” Harry added encouragingly.

“Harry, Lupin is entitled to his privacy, where Ms. Tonks is concerned,” Severus chided, still sounding distracted. Harry’s concern at his father’s behavior distracted him from blushing at the mild rebuke.

“Back to Lupin?” Remus inquired of Severus with a small smile, to which Severus simply gazed at him. To Harry, Remus said, “I was embarrassed by what happened between Tonks and I. Your concern is not prying. But it isn’t that easy,” he said again, with a small self-deprecating shrug. “But there’s no need for you to worry about it, Harry. I’ll be all right.”

Harry eyed him skeptically. All right? Not likely.

Remus smiled wryly at him. But he didn’t acknowledge Harry’s thoughts on the matter any further. He slid away from the bed. Harry watched as one of Remus’ hands lingered over a patch in his brown robes. Whatever happened with Tonks, Harry decided, he would speak to Scrimgeour about making certain Remus would be able to keep his job. Harry knew how much he enjoyed teaching. And by far, Remus has been the best Defense teacher he had ever had.

“How long will Sirius be asleep?” Remus asked quietly, effectively turning the conversation away from himself.

Pomfrey pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly in appraisal at Remus before she replied, “I would like to perform a few more diagnostics before I allow him to wake up, and when he does wake up, I’d like the Infirmary to be empty. He needs time to adjust.”

The echoed words stabbed at Harry’s conscience. He’d helped to bring Sirius to such a frenzied state that he’d needed to be spelled to sleep. And he was just going to be trapped there, in whatever nightmares he was having. The air was beginning to feel very heavy as Harry took in the room around him.

His friends were staring at him; Ginny was almost fidgeting beside her brother. McGonagall probably wanted to give him enough detentions to last out the remainder of the school year—not to mention the points she would probably take. Pomfrey would insist that he stay in bed until Christmas. And Remus was going to be all alone, if he didn’t try to make it up with Tonks. He would be too sad, and something was wrong with his dad.

The room seemed to be spinning.

“Harry.”

His father was gripping his shoulders in his large hands.

“He’s having some sort of panic attack, Severus,” Pomfrey was saying as he joined Severus in Harry’s line of vision. Harry frowned.

“I’m not panicking,” he denied quickly. He’d had enough of that. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. Not anymore. Voldemort was gone.

His father’s fingers pressed into his shoulders. Harry drew a breath through his nostrils, steadying himself, without realizing that he needed to.

“I realize that you would probably like to speak with your friends,” Severus said quietly. “I believe it would be a wiser course however, to return to our quarters so that we both may rest.”

Harry glanced past his father’s worried eyes. His friends were still watching him. Ginny looked even more anxious than she had before. Remus was again staring at nothing. Harry turned his gaze back to his father. “Is it all right if I just talk to Ginny? Just for a minute.”

Severus nodded almost without thinking on the request. One of his hands moved up to squeeze Harry’s neck lightly. Harry smiled a little; Severus returned it, his lips pulling up slightly and then he straightened, his hand still against Harry’s neck. With a start, Harry suddenly realized that his father was probably afraid to leave him. Maybe that was why he seemed so distracted earlier. He would ask him as soon as they got to their quarters.

“Gin?” Harry called, trying to keep his voice even. But there were just too many things for him to worry about properly. Too many people who needed his help. He watched warily as Hermione squeezed Ginny’s hand. Ginny moved away from the other two.

Severus stepped away from the bed, and Harry didn’t miss the hesitation of his fingers against his nape. Severus moved far enough away that he was standing by Remus’ side. The two of them stared at nothing together.

“Are you really all right, Harry?”

Harry turned back to Ginny. He smiled a little. “I’m not really sure,” he admitted, but then he shook his head. “What’s wrong, Gin?” he asked, reaching out to take her hand. She curled her index finger over his thumb, fiddling it back and forth a little. He sneaked a glance to make sure no one was watching them as he lowered his voice. “Are you upset about what happened…”

Ginny’s cheeks flushed and she looked oddly embarrassed and pleased at the same time. “Not upset,” she assured him. “But your dad and Remus told us what was happening to you after your battle with Voldemort and that it wasn’t really you, and that maybe Sirius was even influencing you.”

“Sirius?” Harry repeated, bewildered. Ginny nodded.

“Because he was trying to contact you. I was just worried, I guess…”

“Worried?” he echoed in disbelief. “What do you mean? You think Sirius took control of me…or Voldemort did and…” He trailed off, staring at her in horror. But then he shook his head firmly. “No one was controlling me, Ginny. That was me. All of it was me. I was a prat, just like Ron said. Voldemort didn’t make me argue with Remus, or with my father. And Sirius didn’t make me some sort of magnet for girls like Elizabeth, and he certainly didn’t make me snog you in my bed!”

He was whispering very loudly by the end of the outburst, and Ginny was staring at him, her mouth having fallen open with surprise. Everyone else was staring at him as well. Harry closed his eyes, embarrassed. He gripped Ginny’s small fingers before she could pull away. “I’m sorry,” he said heavily. But Ginny didn’t pull away.

“Harry,” she said softly, and Harry opened his eyes again. “I think you should get some rest, as Madame Pomfrey suggested. We’ll talk later,” she promised him. Harry didn’t know how to protest, so he nodded. Ginny smiled at him, her eyes dark with sadness. It made Harry’s heart ache to know he’d caused that.

Ginny squeezed his hand once more before stepping back from the bed.

“We’ll come to see you later, Harry,” Hermione promised him. Even Ron didn’t look angry. They were all looking at him as though they were afraid he was going to break. He felt like he was going to break.

“Severus, Sleeping Draughts,” Pomfrey said quietly, sliding two vials into Severus’ palm.

“I’ll be by later, as well, Harry,” Remus told him, his voice very gentle. Harry wanted to shout at Remus not to come by later, but to go make things up with Tonks. He shouldn’t care this much. But all he did was nod. He wasn’t even good as a friend anymore. His eyes strayed to Sirius. Or as a godson…

“Will you tell me before you wake Sirius up?” he asked Pomfrey. Pomfrey nodded kindly.

“I won’t wake him until you’ve had a chance to rest,” she told him firmly. Harry sighed and nodded.

Severus touched Harry’s elbow lightly. Harry tore his eyes away from Sirius. Severus and Harry walked into the Floo silently.

His friends, Pomfrey and McGonagall all watched as the green flames swept them away. It was probably just as well that Sirius couldn’t watch them.

They reappeared in their quarters an instant later. Harry made it out of the fireplace and onto the hearth rug without mishap. But Harry didn’t move beyond the dark rug. He stood where he was, staring at his school shoes.

“Harry,” Severus finally prompted softly; his black boots were almost touching Harry’s shoes.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said quietly as he studied the two pairs of shoes, wishing he could sink through the floor and reappear in a place where he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

“There is nothing wrong with you, Harry.” Severus’ fingers were on Harry’s shoulder again. “You have been through a terrible ordeal,” he continued in his deep, soothing voice. Harry sagged beneath the comforting hold.

“I just can’t-” he tried to explain, but he couldn’t. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He was feeling too many emotions. Too many things hurt. He couldn’t sort it all out.

His father could have said any number of things in an attempt to soothe him. He could have promised him that everything would be all right, or that nothing was really as bad as Harry made it seem. But he didn’t. Severus simply pulled Harry toward him, wrapping his strong arms securely around him. Harry leaned his head into his father’s shoulder, feeling vastly relieved as he listened to the in and out pattern of Severus’ breathing. And somehow, Harry knew his father was receiving as much strength from this embrace as he was imparting.

They were both safe here.

1996

Harry realized that he should probably feel embarrassed. After all, he really couldn’t imagine Ron standing in his sitting room with Mr. Weasley’s arms around him. But even though he knew it was immature, he couldn’t find any chagrin. It felt good to have his father’s arms wrapped securely around him. And anyway, he figured he could count on both fingers, the times strong arms had wrapped around him like this. He certainly hadn’t used up his quota of hugs.

He smiled a little into Severus’ shoulder as he remembered the first time it had happened…at Grimmauld Place the summer before fifth year. Sirius had hugged him like he’d never been so happy to see someone. And Harry had felt the same way. He could remember how happy he’d been. He could almost feel it now.

And he could remember the first time his father had held him like this as well. That had been a hug full of different sorts of emotions. Just like this one was. But both had healed him, in their own ways. He wouldn’t trade either one of those moments with either his father, or with Sirius.

Harry knew there would be no choice, though…if it came to that. But he knew instinctively that his father wouldn’t make him choose. He couldn’t be certain about Sirius. He couldn’t claim to fully understand the circumstances that had brought the two men to hate one another so much, but he knew that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t turn his back on his father.

Harry drew in a deep breath against Severus’ shoulder.

“You will not have to choose between us.”

Harry looked up into his father’s dark eyes. “You know, if you keep doing that, I’m going to start to believe you really can read my mind,” he said with a small smile as he took a step back.

Severus’ upper lip curved as he released his son, but he continued seriously, “Black will accept it in time. And I certainly will not ask you to make a choice.”

Harry nodded. “I know you won’t,” he agreed softly, gratefully. He rubbed his first two fingers over the creases in his forehead. “But, you can’t be certain Sirius will ever be able to accept this.”

“Harry, he was willing to go with Voldemort so that you would be freed. He knew when he made that choice, that you were not James’ son.” His words were unmarred by the bitterness that Harry knew his father felt toward Sirius.

“How-how did he react when Voldemort announced it?”

His father had an odd look on his face at Harry’s question. “Perhaps we should sit and have some tea.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t going to tell me?” he asked. Severus shook his head.

“I suspect this will be a rather lengthy discussion.”

Harry cocked his head. He leaned against the table near the fireplace as his father went to the Floo and ordered tea and some sandwiches from an eager house-elf who was more than willing to get anything that, “Harry Potter might wish for.”

“Pomfrey will have a fit if she knows you didn’t make me go to sleep,” Harry informed his dad with a little smile as Severus set the tray of food on the low table in front of the sofa.

“I think you will benefit from rest that is not forced upon you by a potion,” Severus told him as he sat on the sofa.

“I don’t think I can sleep…”

“Precisely why we will talk for awhile. This particular blend of tea leaves, will aid in relaxing you as well.” Harry nodded, and dropped onto the cushion next to his father. He was feeling much too jittery to sleep.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Severus placed a warm cup into his hands. The tea was only mildly sweet and it had a refreshing flavor that Harry immediately liked. He watched quietly as Severus took a shallow sip from his own cup. “Aren’t you tired?” he thought to ask. His father lifted his head from the teacup. His eyes were very soft; he shook his head in denial.

“Black did not immediately believe Voldemort.”

Harry nodded, easily shifting gears as his father answered his question about Sirius. “That’s understandable I suppose.” He blew a gentle breath against the steam waving up from his cup. “What made him believe it?” he asked curiously, keeping his eyes on his dad. It was actually a miracle that Sirius had believed it at all.

“Remus told him it was true.”

Harry winced at that, thinking of how hard it must have been for Sirius to hear that from one of his best friends. “I shouldn’t have been so angry with him…I shouldn’t be so angry with him,” he amended wearily as he rested his back against his mum’s soft cushions. “He was horrid to you…even when I didn’t know you were my father, I knew he’d been unfair to you…I hated it then as well.” His voice had gone very soft, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“It is difficult to discover that those we look up to are not perfect.”

Harry looked up sharply. He recognized that tone. He set his cup down, wincing a little as it clattered against the saucer. “I don’t think any less of you because of what Sirius said about his brother,” he denied quickly. Severus frowned.

“That is not what I meant. I believe you’ve already gathered that I am not perfect,” he said, his eyes glinting a little, though he wasn’t exactly amused, Harry could tell.

“Were you talking about your father, then?” he asked, settling the delicate cup so it was sitting in the middle of the saucer once more. Severus nodded once.

“When I realized that Tobias had forced me to believe something so heinous, without ever giving me a choice, that he had in fact, programmed me to believe Voldemort’s sadistic ideals…” He shook his head, his eyes gleaming with anger this time. He drew a calming breath as Harry watched. “Even with the understanding that my father was a cruel person, in many ways evil, I did not stop caring for him. Even when he threatened to disown me, I could not bring myself to hate him.” He pinned Harry with a very solemn look. “Black was very cruel to me, but he is not evil. And he will not hurt you. I know the knowledge of what he did to me, pains you, but Black did nothing to you, Harry, and you will regret it if you allow your hurt to stop you from caring for him.”

He paused, to place a hand over Harry’s fingers as they trembled against the rattling teacup.

“Do not forget that you care for him, for my sake.”

Harry’s fingers stilled against the cup as he gazed at his father. “Would you be able to care for someone who hated me?” Severus narrowed his eyes in silent appraisal. And Harry wasn’t really sure why he had asked such a question. He didn’t want to ignore Sirius, even if Sirius did hate his father.

“No.” The answer was filled with tension.

Harry leaned forward, forgetting all about the tea that was supposed to soothe him. “So then, why are you telling me to forget that Sirius despises you?”

“That is not what I said. I simply wish you to do what you wish to do, in regard to Black.”

Harry leaned on his arms as they settled on his legs, though he kept his eyes on his father. “How is that you don’t seem to mind that Sirius is back?”

Severus’ upper lip twisted a little. “I assure you, Harry, that I only tolerated his presence for you. My feelings toward him have not changed.”

Harry sighed. “But he won’t return the favor,” he said, feeling betrayed all over again.

“He will, when he realizes that you will not reject him.”

Harry squinted quizzically at his father. He seemed awfully certain of it, even though he had basically just told him that he hated Sirius just as much as Sirius hated him. Harry sighed. He was sure he would be able to stomach all this hatred. At least his father could keep it hidden well enough. Perhaps, he should ask him to teach Sirius Occlumency. The thought made him snort a short breath of laughter.

Severus tilted his head at the sound. Harry smiled. “I was just thinking what it would be like if you were to teach Sirius Occlumency.”

Severus’ lip quirked with quiet amusement. “I do not think either one of us would survive the encounter.”

Harry shrugged, still vaguely amused at the idea. He picked up his teacup idly, playing his pinky against the handle, instead of taking another sip. “It’s sort of hard to believe, you know?” he murmured. “Sirius coming back, and Remus…how did any of it even happen?”

“Albus cast a charm, rather like the one he used to bind us before we went to Riddle Manor. It included both Lupin and myself. I do not understand how we returned, however. We were simply back in the Department of Mysteries, when a moment earlier, we had been in a void—with Black.” He shook his head, his fingers lightly splayed over his left arm. “As for Lupin’s blood losing its dark elements, I have no other answers for that either,” he added, sounding both thoughtful and perturbed.

Harry frowned, bothered by the many mysteries surrounding that single curtain in the Department of Mysteries. “Scrimgeour won’t be able to make him leave Hogwarts, if Remus can prove he’s not a werewolf, will he?”

“He will have no grounds to dismiss him,” Severus agreed. Harry nodded, hoping his father was right. Remus wouldn’t deserve that, and with all of Harry’s heart, he hoped Tonks would understand that Remus had made a mistake, and that she would forgive him.

“I can’t believe Remus broke off their engagement,” he said, as he set his cup back down on the table. “How could he not realize that Tonks wouldn’t have cared about anything that Scrimgeour was trying to do?”

Severus set his cup down as well, though his didn’t make a sound as it touched down on the delicate saucer. “Lupin’s sense of self-worth is grounded in being a werewolf, Harry,” he explained quietly. “He was not exaggerating when he referred to himself as a monster. That is the way the wizarding world regards werewolves. It is very difficult to believe others will accept you when you cannot accept yourself.” Harry bit the inside of his bottom lip as he felt his father’s sorrow. It was strange to realize just how alike his father and Remus were. And Harry had a strange feeling that his dad was thinking how much Remus would lose if he didn’t try to mend things with Tonks.

He sighed, his mind wandering toward Ginny with that thought. He hadn’t meant to snap at her. But he hadn’t wanted her to think that he had somehow been controlled by Voldemort…or by Sirius. “Ginny said you thought Sirius was affecting my actions, somehow.”

Severus nodded, as unbothered as always by the way Harry’s mind sometimes seemed to wander from subject to subject. “Black was in contact with you during certain times. Your nightmares were meant to be warnings that Voldemort had taken part of your soul. That is why I wanted you to understand that you were not-”

“Don’t,” Harry croaked as he slumped back against the sofa and snapped his eyes firmly shut. Why did all of them keep insisting on this?

“Harry?”

He cracked an eye to peer at his father, who was leaning forward and staring at him anxiously. “They weren’t controlling me,” Harry said, his voice subdued in the worried silence from his father. “Why can’t any of you understand? Even Ginny thought I’d snogged her while Sirius was in my head…”

Harry’s ears began to burn as he realized what he’d just said. He closed his mouth slowly, not quite knowing where to look. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything more than snogging, though it probably wouldn’t be hard for his father to guess that more than that had taken place between them. A simple kiss or two wouldn’t have made him feel completely mortified, and it wouldn’t have upset him so much that Ginny believed Sirius had taken over his mind in that hour they’d spent in his bed.

“You cannot be certain that Black did not have some influence over your interactions with Ginny,” Severus told him. Harry looked away at that, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment and irritation that his father didn’t seem to understand. “Did you act toward Ginny, in a manner that would surprise her?”

Harry’s sat up straighter, his eyes flinging back to his father’s serious features. “Of course not!” he denied. “I didn’t do anything to her,” he said in a rush, wishing his father would quit looking at him like that.

But Severus shook his head. “That is not what I meant. And you do not need to tell me specifics, but think about your interactions with Ginny last night. Would you have had the same reactions if you had not had that bottle of firewhisky?”

Harry closed his eyes. Bloody hell. “I only had one bottle,” he excused himself lamely.

“Firewhisky has magical properties which affect the mind and body in unusual ways. It is possible that even that small amount affected your judgment,” his father explained.

“Well, see, then it wasn’t Sirius’ fault at all,” Harry told him wearily, keeping his eyes closed. The spaces behind his eyes were beginning to feel as if tiny fairies were dancing on his eyeballs.

“Harry, have you ever indulged in firewhisky before?”

Harry squeezed his eyelids tightly together; at least the throbbing seemed to lessen that way. “No.”

“And can you tell me honestly that you have changed so much in the past few days, that you would partake of a substance that you know perfectly well is forbidden to you, without any thought to the consequences?”

Well…his dad did have a point. Even when Hermione had pointed out that he would be killed by his father, he had gone right ahead and just about finished off the bottle. And he had felt so free in the moments before he’d kissed Ginny. So self-assured and confident. He opened his eyes again. “Just because Sirius would have done those things, doesn’t mean he was making me do anything,” he tried to insist, but he was beginning to doubt his own insistence.

“You are likely feeling the effects of a mild hangover,” Severus told him quietly and somehow, there was a vial in his fingers. “Headache Potion,” his father supplied.

“I only had one bottle,” he repeated feebly, feeling ridiculous now. He’d actually had a bottle of firewhisky, downed it without a care, as if his father wouldn’t even mind. He’d been seriously daft last night.

“Firewshisky is not akin in its alcoholic properties to Muggle beer, and since it was your first time, you were more susceptible to its effects,” Severus told him. “Drink it, Harry,” he commanded in his firm, quiet voice, and with his cheeks tingeing toward pink, Harry obeyed.

“I’m sorry about the firewhisky,” he mumbled as he handed the empty vial back to his father. Severus sent it whizzing back to his lab; he pressed his lips together, his eyes regarding Harry solemnly.

“I suspect that Albus will have succeeded in convincing Minerva that you were not to be blamed for your actions-”

“I don’t want any special treatment,” Harry interrupted, feeling a mild panic at the idea, knowing that the other Gryffindors would quickly turn from admiration to resentment if he was let out of whatever punishment McGonagall had dreamed up.

“I will speak with her,” Severus said, acknowledging Harry’s wish with a small nod. He narrowed his eyes a little. “Your reactions toward Lupin and I yesterday, lead me to believe that both Voldemort and Black were influencing you more than you wish to believe. However,” he stressed as he leaned forward, his eyes glinting with purpose, “I want to make it perfectly plain to you, Harry, that I will not tolerate a repeat of your actions last night.”

Harry nodded. “I know.” He had suspected it somewhere inside his fuzzy brain last night, as well, but now as he gazed at his father he wondered just how much firewhisky he'd have to consume to make that threat come to fruition.  As long as he had the excuse of someone taking over his brain, he supposed it wouldn't matter.  

Severus nodded swiftly, but his eyes had softened considerably. “I do not blame you for what happened, nor am I angry with you. Not for any of it. Do you understand, Harry?” he asked softly, and then he waited with endless patience until Harry felt ready, and honest enough, to nod. His father gave him a tiny smile, making Harry’s nervous tension ease a bit.

“Thank you,” he murmured, not looking away as he tried to express to his father just how grateful he was for him—for everything.

“For not being angry with you for something you could not help?” his father queried, surprised. Harry shrugged.

“I didn’t think you’d forgive me…any of you,” he admitted, feeling incredibly young and stupid.

“You are too hard on yourself,” Severus told him seriously. “There is never a hesitation on your part when you forgive people who have wronged you. And yet, you believe far too easily that you do not deserve the same treatment.” His eyes fairly radiated affection. “I assure you, Harry, that you, more than most anyone you have forgiven in your life, deserve it far more.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. But his father apparently wasn’t keen on his non-response. He shook his head.

“I do not blame you,” he repeated, enunciating each syllable, “which means that there is nothing to forgive.” He cocked his eyebrow as he watched Harry let the words sink into his brain. “Lupin and Black do not blame you. Your friends do not blame you, and Ginny does not blame you either.” He smirked. “I would have thought that that should have been rather obvious, however.”

Harry blinked in surprise, even as he felt a deep flush creeping up his neck.

His father studied his reaction. “Before you see Ginny alone again, I will teach you the Contraceptive Charm which I mentioned to you at Grimmauld Place,” he said smoothly, his voice perfectly composed. The heat spread through Harry’s stiff face.

“You don’t need to,” he managed to say, even though he felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Not this conversation again. He didn't think he could take it again.

“Eventually however, you will need to know it, and I will feel better with the knowledge that you can perform the charm,” Severus told him calmly. Harry willed the burn to stop, but it made no difference, and since he wasn’t about to tell his dad of the promise he’d made to Ginny, he simply nodded. It was easier since he was staring at his trousers.

His father allowed him the minutes he needed to rid himself of most of his embarrassment, before he said quietly, “I am pleased with your willingness to take responsibility for your actions, even when circumstances do not require it.”

Harry’s face began to warm again, this time with a pleased flush as the words wrapped around him like a soft blanket. Severus smiled at him, his lips pulling up in the familiar expression that soothed the last of Harry’s bouncing worry.

Everything would be all right, he told himself firmly.

Sirius wouldn’t be able to not realize that Severus was a good person. That his dad truly did love him. And Sirius would see, if he really did still care for him, that Harry could love both of them. He already loved Remus…and Ginny. Ron and Hermione as well. He could love all of them. Sirius would see…

1996

Harry grimaced as his neck creaked. His mum’s sofa was obviously not meant to be used as a bed. He waggled his head once more against the pillow that he couldn’t remember putting there. The creased muscles ironed themselves out slowly. Feeling able to move again, though rather weighted down with lead, Harry pushed himself up. The left side of his pillow was damp with drool. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, or even what time it was.

Harry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as he twisted his neck to iron out the kinks. His father was sprawled, completely gracelessly, in one of the armchairs facing the sofa. He was sleeping,his chin was pressed into his chest. Harry smiled a little as he peeled the blanket away from his legs and stood. His eyes drifted over to the two empty vials standing on the table in front of his father.

Harry reached down for them, and brought them close to his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his glasses but he could read the words if he squinted. Harry’s gaze darted back over to his father. He had actually taken Pomfrey’s Sleeping Draught, and a Dream Suppressive?

Harry stared at his father, his mind tripping over things that Severus would probably never admit to. He wondered painfully how difficult it had been for his father to sleep, and if he’d had nightmares without the potion. The thought made him feel ill. His dad shouldn’t have to suffer that way.

Moving very quietly so that he wouldn’t disturb him, Harry picked up his blanket and settled it around Severus’ waist and legs. He stepped back, after tucking it in as much as he dared. Severus hadn’t stirred at all. Harry sighed with relief before turning around and searching quickly for his glasses. Once he’d plucked them from the low table in front of the couch, Harry cast a Tempus Charm. It was almost twelve hours since his father had announced his intention to teach him the Contraceptive Charm before he could see Ginny again.

Harry sighed at the thought. He really wanted to talk to her.

“Yes, just talk,” he’d said with a grimace after his father had suggested he stretch out onto the sofa when Harry couldn’t stifle a huge yawn. He’d been trying to explain that he wanted to see Ginny first thing in the morning.

“No matter your intention, Harry, you and I are going to have a lesson on the various charms designed to insure that Ginny does not find herself-”

“All right,” Harry had interrupted hastily, not wanting his father to finish that particular statement.

Harry shook his head as he remembered his father’s calm nod. Why the hell did he have to be so candid about these things? Couldn’t he just stammer and stutter his way over the topic like he was certain most fathers would?

It was well into the afternoon, and though Harry was almost certain he could probably find Ginny, he wouldn’t. Not after Severus had been so understanding about everything that had happened over the past few days. Even if Harry couldn’t really see the problem; it wasn’t as if he had plans to do anything except try to explain to Ginny that Sirius hadn’t taken over his mind. Or Voldemort either, for that matter.

Harry brushed away the faint unease that even thinking about Voldemort brought to his chest. He needed to shower and dress anyway. Musings on Voldemort would have to wait.

Severus was still sleeping soundly when Harry reemerged from his bedroom, dressed in clean clothes, and feeling much better for it. It seemed odd for Severus to be sleeping so well. Harry, after living with his father for the past month, had found that Severus was an extremely light sleeper. He always woke up if Harry left his room in the middle of the night. Concerned, Harry went over to the Floo. Perhaps he’d better have Pomfrey check on him.

The low flames in the grate sprung up as soon as Harry tossed down a fistful of powder. He called for the Infirmary and stuck his head through. Pomfrey looked up from organizing a narrow cupboard near her office door.

“Harry? All you all right?” She dropped her hands from a stack of clean sheets to hurry toward the fireplace.

“Harry?”

The warm, familiar voice made Harry smile, even though Sirius wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. Harry tried to crane his neck, but he couldn’t see anyone except Pomfrey.

“Sirius?”

Pomfrey made a shooing motion off to right as she bent her face to Harry’s, acting as though Harry hadn’t even spoken.

“Is your father all right?” she asked.

Harry nodded, his eyes making a quick dash to Pomfrey’s right. No Sirius. “He’s still asleep. He took some potions, and I wanted to ask you to check on him.”

Pomfrey looked relieved. “I was there a few hours ago. He was still awake. I took care of that,” she said with scowl.

“What did you do?” Harry asked, feeling mildly alarmed and wondering if Pomfrey could have been irritated enough to put him to sleep for days, or even weeks.

“I threatened to bind him to his bed until Christmas if he didn’t take the Sleeping Draught.”

Harry laughed. It felt good. He wished he had been awake for that. Pomfrey smiled at him.

“He only agreed because I didn’t protest to him sleeping in the chair so that he wouldn’t have to leave your side,” she told him, sounding very fond of Severus in that moment. Harry smiled. He heard a rustle of sheets, followed by a throat, clearing pointedly. Pomfrey turned to the side. “I would have thought that your experience would have granted you a little patience, Mr. Black.”

“I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting to talk to Harry, haven’t I?” Sirius’ voice floated over to Harry’s ears.

“I thought you were going to wait to wake him,” Harry said, doing his best not to sound upset over it. After all, Pomfrey had taken care of his father. Pomfrey sighed.

“The Headmaster had other ideas, I’m afraid, Mr. Snape.” Harry made a sour face at the mention of Dumbledore’s usual meddling. Pomfrey smiled sympathetically before gesturing for Harry to enter. Harry hesitated before glancing back at his father. Severus was still sleeping soundly. “He will sleep for several more hours,” Pomfrey assured him. Harry turned back to the Infirmary. He nodded.

Pomfrey straightened and moved back. Harry stepped through the flames. His nerves quieted as soon as he saw Sirius. Sirius was sitting up in the bed closest to the fireplace, twisting slightly as he had obviously been trying to get a look at Harry. As soon as Harry turned to him, a grin broke across his face.

“Hey there, kiddo.”

His voice sounded so easy, so relaxed, that Harry could only stare at him. What had happened to the angry, unbalanced man that had raged at Severus half a day ago? Sirius’ lip twisted a little into a wry smile.

“I’ve had a bit of a chance to process.”

“The Calming Draught is helping as well,” Pomfrey put in dryly as she went back to her cupboard. Sirius shrugged, still smiling.

Harry peered at his godfather. Watching carefully for any twitch that might indicate that he was about to start hoping for hell to swallow him up again. Sirius sighed, a loud sound in the otherwise silent room.

“It’s all right, Harry. I’m not going to go mad again.” The words were meant to be reassuring, Harry was sure of it, but somehow he couldn’t stop feeling wary around this man who had always been so easy to be around. “Harry,” Sirius said solemnly as he spread his hands a little in front of him, as though making a peace-offering, “I promise I won’t shout anymore.”

Harry smiled at that, at the way Sirius’ face had taken on such an uncharacteristically grave demeanor. Sirius relaxed as soon as Harry’s nervous frown disappeared. He patted the empty space on the bed, his expression so hopeful, that Harry hoisted himself onto Sirius’ bed without protest. He crossed his legs and slouched tiredly. Twelve hours of sleep obviously hadn’t been enough.

Sirius was gazing at him, carefully watching his movements as Harry settled himself in. Harry was watching Sirius as well. He looked so different than he had sixth months ago. Or least Harry remembered his face more deeply shadowed, the lines more pronounced in his face. But how could Harry even be sure what Sirius had looked like then? It had been so long…and Harry hadn’t even had any pictures of his godfather to remind him what he looked like.

“Shit, Sirius,” he said quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer impossibility of what he could so clearly see before him.

“Mr. Snape.” Obviously, he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. He glanced over to the source of the sharp admonishment. Pomfrey was giving him a reproving look. Harry grimaced a little.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he turned back to his godfather. Sirius was grimacing as well. He hastily tried to straighten out his expression though as Harry turned back to him.

But apparently, he wasn’t able to stop himself from asking, “Snape?”

Harry bit back a sigh. He wasn’t going to let himself become irritated…Sirius needed time, just as his dad and Remus had said. It was only fair.

Sirius leaned forward again. “You didn’t have to change your name, Harry. James wouldn’t have minded if you’d kept it.”

Harry pressed his palms together. “I know that, Sirius.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t anything to do with James.”

Sirius stiffened. “Is that what Snape told you? James died trying to protect you, Harry.”

Harry flinched, as much from the unnecessary reminder as from Sirius’ unusually harsh tone. Regret instantly morphed Sirius’ face into a frown.

“I know,” Harry whispered, trying not to allow himself to think too much about James. He felt guilty for that too. For needing the man to die for him. He felt guilty for a lot of things to do with James… “That isn’t what I meant,” Harry continued, pushing the image of James below his shield.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Harry shrugged away the apology. Sirius looked like he wanted to continue, but Harry went on, “I do understand how much he did for me. And I’m very grateful for all of it. Both of us are.”

Sirius nodded, though it looked more like he was humoring Harry than actually believing what Harry was saying.

“It’s complicated, Sirius.” Harry gestured expansively. “All of this is complicated.”

Sirius nodded again, but this time the movement was genuine, as was the look of concern that deepened the lines around his mouth and eyes. “I don’t mean to make this any more difficult than it has to be, Harry.” He frowned as he leaned forward. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m all right, Sirius. I really am,” Harry assured him, leaning forward in an unconscious imitation of his godfather. “And this doesn’t have to be difficult at all-”

“Harry,” Sirius interrupted, “the animosity between Snape and me goes back too far to simply forgive and forget what happened-”

“He and Remus have,” Harry interrupted Sirius this time, though he wished a second later that he hadn’t, even more so as he realized how unintentionally accusatory the comment had sounded. Sirius’ mouth closed slowly. Harry’s throat felt dry as he struggled to figure out how to undo the hurt that was spreading over Sirius’ features.

“Remus doesn’t have anything to forgive.”

“Don’t be angry with Remus, Sirius,” Harry implored softly. Sirius’ eyes snapped.

“He lied to me, Harry. And he took Snape’s side-” Sirius’ lips clamped shut.

Harry’s fingers were beginning to hurt from pressing them so tightly together. “Are you angry with me as well, then?”

Sirius’ lips parted as his face fell. He shook his head rapidly. “No, Harry. Of course I’m not angry that Snape is your father,” he said gently, though his eyes were still heated. Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Just that I don’t mind that he is," he surmised.  He crossed his arms over his chest. Sirius’ sighed.

“How do you expect me to react to this, Harry?” he demanded, though his voice did not rise above his quiet tone. “I come back here to find that not only is Snape your father, but he’s always been your father. He was married to Lily, and for years, James lied to me.” Sirius’ leaned forward again, his eyes intense. “Do you even realize how impossible this seems? How can I not wonder if Snape has confunded you?”

The irritation faded a little. Sirius really didn’t seem angry with him. Confused and hurt perhaps, but not angry. “I haven’t been confunded, Sirius. Remus told you about it. My dad would have had to confund everyone else.”

Sirius grimaced at the mention of Remus. Harry frowned at him, but before he could tell Sirius again that he really shouldn’t be angry with Remus, his godfather was saying, “Dumbledore was here earlier. He showed me some memories.”

Harry stiffened.  “Which memories?” he asked worriedly.

“The same ones he said you saw this summer. Lily’s memories.”

“He had no right to take those!” Harry exploded before he could stop himself. Sirius reared back a little at Harry’s reaction, but Harry barely noticed. He was too busy silently fuming at Dumbledore. And wondering how long he would be able to avoid telling his father about Dumbledore’s sticky fingers. Harry didn’t have to wonder just what his dad would do if he found out.

“I thought you’d want me to see them,” Sirius said, bringing Harry’s attention back to him. Harry sighed.

“The Pensieve isn’t mine,” he explained. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“And Snape would object to me seeing the truth?”

Harry considered that briefly. It wasn’t certain that he would object to that, exactly, but those were personal memories and Harry didn’t think his dad would really want Sirius to be part of something so intimate. So he tilted the conversation a bit. “Dumbledore should have asked, that’s all. He had to sneak into our quarters to get it.”

Sirius actually smiled briefly at that image. But then he shook his head. “Are you really living with him?” he asked, his tone changing a bit so that Harry could tell that he was trying very hard not to sound upset over it. Harry nodded. “Why can’t you live in the tower with your friends?”

Harry’s mind wandered back to a very similar conversation he’d had with Ron. Ron hadn’t been any happier with the arrangement. But at least Ron had eventually understood. He didn’t know if Sirius would be able to—he’d missed so much.

“I’ve never had a chance to be-” Harry broke off, realizing how the rest of that sentence would sound to Sirius. After all, he knew that Sirius thought of them as family. And even though he had a father now, Harry still felt the same way about Sirius. Sirius’ brow furrowed.

“A chance to be what, Harry?” Harry didn’t know how to finish without hurting Sirius, so he simply shook his head. Sirius put a hand carefully over one of Harry’s. “It’s all right if you don’t want to live with Snape. You shouldn’t be made to feel it’s your obligation simply because you share your genes with him.”

“I know that, Sirius,” Harry stressed, keeping his hand still beneath Sirius’. “It’s not anything like that.” He paused, trying to order his thoughts…and trying to keep them calm as the memories of Halloween presented themselves. “He was—” he forced his storm to steady to a light gray “—Voldemort hurt him when he found out that he was my father. I stayed with him until he got better, and after that…I can’t explain it, Sirius.” He looked at his godfather imploringly, silently begging for him to understand. “I just—I wanted to live with him. I’ve never had a proper family.”

He’d said it anyway. Harry swore silently and waited for Sirius’ face to crumple again with hurt. But Sirius frowned instead.

“And are you, Harry?” he asked intently. “Are you and Snape a proper family?”

Harry stared at his godfather. “I don’t understand what-”

Sirius gripped Harry’s hand, though not painfully. “Dumbledore told me what Lily’s sister and her husband did to you, Harry.” Harry heart began pounding with alarm. Sirius’ eyes were flashing with renewed hatred. “The people who were supposed to have been your proper family.”

“Don’t kill them, Sirius,” Harry pleaded, leaning forward and gripping Sirius’ hand now. Sirius’ eyebrows rose in quick surprise.

“Is that why you never told me that they were starving you and keeping you prisoner…because you thought I’d kill them?”

Harry shook his head though. “There was nothing you could have done.”

Sirius looked halfway between sadness and outrage at Harry’s claim. “Nothing I could have done? Harry, I would have done anything I had to do to make sure that coward and his family wouldn’t hurt you anymore.”

The words did not surprise Harry at all. But that wasn’t what he had meant; he shook his head, his throat aching. “You couldn’t have made them love me, Sirius.”

Sirius was quiet for a long time. Harry shifted against the bed, wondering what his godfather was thinking about. He was gazing at Harry, though he seemed to be lost in thought, rather than paying attention to his godson’s face. When Sirius spoke again, his voice was very soft. “And you believe Snape…loves you?”

Harry bristled at the question. He felt his mouth twisting into an angry scowl, but Sirius held up a hand, halting Harry’s mild explosion. “Harry, how can you think I won’t ask you that?” he asked, keeping his voice low still, and Harry wondered if he didn’t want Pomfrey to overhear their conversation.

“I don’t want to upset you, Harry, of course I don’t, but do you have any idea how hard this is for me to understand? Leaving aside everything that happened between us, he hated you for five years.” Harry flinched, which made Sirius frown. “What happened, Harry?” He made an agitated motion with his fingers. “And I don’t mean the facts. Remus told me everything while you were sleeping. What happened to make you accept this? To make you believe that Snape, of all people, could love you?”

Harry felt like he was having trouble breathing. How was he supposed to answer that? How could he possibly make Sirius understand everything that had happened? As if somehow each action could be separated and put into neat boxes that were tied with little bows.

What would he say?

He couldn’t tell Sirius that his dad hugged him without reservation, that he told him to eat and sleep when he didn’t want to, or that Severus had strong-armed the Minister for him. He couldn’t explain that his dad cared enough about him that he didn’t want him to hurt Ginny. He barely understood it himself. And he certainly wasn’t about to tell Sirius that his father had promised dire consequences if he ever drank firewhisky again. Sirius would take that the wrong way, especially as Harry could admit to himself that there was comfort in the promise. An odd, nervous sort of comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

But Harry finally shook his head, afraid his godfather was literally going to explode if he didn’t say something. Sirius’ eyes felt like they were boring through him. “He does love me, Sirius. If you saw those memories, then you know he does. You must have seen it.”

Sirius closed his eyes, exhaling a slow, gusty hiss. “I did see it, Harry. And that’s exactly why I can’t accept this.” His eyes popped open again; the grey eyes were steel. “If I hadn’t known that was Snape, I would have said without a doubt that he loved you in those memories.”

Harry braced himself for what he thought was coming.

“But he is Snape, and that’s why it doesn’t surprise me that he left you. It’s because of him that you were denied love as a child, Harry. He was horrid to you for years when you finally came to Hogwarts. And then simply because he finds out that Lily lied to him, he decides that it’s okay for you to be his son again? After he threw you aside like rubbish?”

Harry had long since yanked his fingers from Sirius’, and curled them together in his lap, desperately trying to keep them from trembling. But it was pointless; his entire frame was beginning to shake. He felt sick as he watched Sirius’ face flushing toward purple.

“He didn’t even ever bother to check up on you,” Sirius went right on, his strangled tone not changing at all. “He left you at the Dursley’s to rot. Don’t you see Harry?” he implored. “Someone who could do all of that to you, couldn’t love you.”

Harry vision began to cloud and the room was tilting precariously.

“Harry?”

Sirius’ face had shifted in alarm. Harry’s hands were fisted together, his jaw clamped together and his entire body seemed to be shuddering, as though the skin was about to begin tearing itself apart. Harry could feel his storm roiling blackly; he tried to modulate it, but it was very difficult. He could almost picture himself smashing his fist into something solid and hard.

Sirius was moving toward him. “Harry,” he repeated anxiously. “Harry, calm down. You’re shaking the entire bed…Harry?”

Harry could hear Sirius’ voice, and he could feel the bed shaking, in perfect rhythm to the tremors coursing through his own body, but he couldn’t seem to still the violent storm, or the reckless urges that seemed to accompany it.

All he wanted to do was to get away from here.

He straightened his trembling legs and tried to scramble off the bed. But he nearly fell over. Sirius leaned over and caught his arm, his reflexes swift and smooth as Harry felt a wave of dizziness washing over him.

“Harry, please…I didn’t mean to upset you…I’m sorry. Please just wait a minute,” Sirius pleaded with him, his eyes wide and concerned as Harry tried to pull away. His hands felt clammy, and his mouth was dry, but he glared at Sirius all the same, ignoring the need to sit down—or to throw something.

“For what, Sirius?” he demanded. “I know he left me. I know he was complete areshole!And I know he shouldn’t love me, but you never bothered to come for me either. You only ever cared enough to escape when you thought you could capture Pettigrew!” Harry’s ears were ringing with renewed fury over things he’d had no idea he was even angry about. “Or did you think I didn’t notice that?” he demanded bitterly as Sirius stared at him in shock.

“Nobody ever wanted me. Not even you, so don’t act as though you have one up on him.” His voice cracked against his will. “You can just go to hell, Sirius.” Sirius’ fingers had gone slack and Harry wrenched himself away, having no idea where he was intending to go.

But it didn’t matter.

Suddenly, the Infirmary door swooshed open and a new set of footsteps joined Pomfrey’s, who had been alerted by Harry’s furious shouts.

“Harry, thank Merlin!”

Harry’s head came up jerkily to stare in confusion at Remus. Remus was breathing heavily, as though he had just run up the many stairs that led to the Infirmary. His mouth opened, but then snapped shut again as he looked between Harry and Sirius.

“What’s going on?” he asked slowly, the worry angling his voice to a higher octave.

“Perhaps you should ask Mr. Black,” Pomfrey’s prickly voice suggested, even as she waved her wand over Harry.

Remus turned abruptly to Sirius, whose face was ashen by now as well.

“What the hell happened, Sirius?” Remus’ sharp voice cut through what was left of Harry’s tide of fury. He needed to get away from both of them. From all of this.

“Nothing happened,” he asserted tersely as he spun back toward the Floo.

“Harry-”

The rest of Remus’ words were cut off as the Floo flared angrily and a disheveled Severus stumbled out. His eyes were wild with fear. As soon as they landed on Harry however, they shifted immediately to stark relief, his breath coming in harsh gulps. He didn’t even bother to mask the emotion overwhelming his features.

His face shifted again, to irritation this time, but that was immediately squashed as he stepped forward, pulling in a long steadying breath. Harry wasn’t fooled though by the suddenly still features; his father’s jaw was taut, but he wasn’t given the chance to speak.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Pomfrey admonished as she came over to join them by the Floo. “I gave you enough of that draught to keep you asleep well into the evening.”

Severus didn’t take his eyes off his son. “I did not take all of it."

“Severus Snape!”

Severus’ black eyes flicked toward her, and Harry could tell his father’s emotions were barely under control, just like his own. “This is not the time for a lecture, Poppy,” he said in a low voice. Pomfrey glared at him, apparently unimpressed with his warning. She did, however, seem to realize he was irritated.

“I told Harry you would be asleep for several more hours when he asked me to check on you.”

Severus’ eyes were on Harry again. His voice was carefully stiff when he spoke. “Your housemates were very surprised to find the Head of Slytherin House in their common room for the second day in a row…your friends will no doubt be looking for you as well now,” he added, some of the irritation slipping through now. “Perhaps a note would have been appropriate.”

“Sorry,” Harry murmured, not looking at his father anymore. He couldn’t stand to look at any of them. He had to get away. From all of them.

The irritation drained from Severus’ face. His eyes narrowed in concern as he studied his son’s guarded stance, his pale features. “Are you all right?”

Harry nodded sharply, not particularly caring that it was a complete lie.

Before Severus had a chance to say anything more, the Floo roared again and Harry’s friends tumbled out into the Infirmary.

“For pity’s sake, this is not a train station,” Pomfrey snapped, though she was already moving to help them to their feet. Before they could even open their mouths, Severus stepped in front of them and snapped his palm outward.

“Harry’s Floo powder,” he said tersely when the three Gryffindors only stared at him. With a look, that was both startled and guilty, Ginny wiggled her first two fingers into her pocket and withdrew the little box. She handed it over to Severus without a word. Severus tucked it into his robe pocket. “I believe all of you know how to use a door. I suggest you do so from now on.”

The Gryffindors were silent at Severus’ curt directive. No one else seemed to be keen on speaking either. Severus’ eyes roamed the room, his face still as he took in Black, on his bed, clutching the bedclothes as though he was afraid he was going to topple over and onto the floor. He caught Remus’ guilty gaze next.

Severus pinched his lips together and turned back to Harry. His son seemed to be shivering slightly. Severus reached out and cupped his palm against Harry’s forehead. His skin was clammy, though there was a light flush to his cheeks and Severus could feel Harry’s wisp vibrating with fury amongst his flames.

“What happened?” he asked quietly as he withdrew his hand, deciding to ignore the stares he felt from everyone else in the room.

“Nothing,” Harry whispered, keeping his eyes averted. But Severus could see the pain dashed across his son’s face. He could not imagine that Remus would ever cause Harry that kind of pain. But Black—Severus knew that Black had said something…he had done something to hurt Harry.

Momentarily swallowing his own ire, Severus carefully shadowed Harry’s wisp so that his son would not feel the rage boiling upward, threatening to explode.

1996

It looked like Severus was deciding between simply taking Harry back to their quarters or telling Sirius he would be without a throat if he ever spoke to Harry again. Remus was having a hard time restraining himself from rounding on Sirius himself. He didn’t know what Sirius had said to Harry, but whatever it was, Harry was still trembling from it.

“Severus, I’d like a word with you,” Poppy was saying quietly as she leaned in toward Severus.

Severus barely restrained a snarl. “I do not wish to discuss my sleep habits, Poppy.”

Poppy frowned at him. “I would like to speak with you about Harry,” she told him icily, though she had lowered her voice. “He almost lost control of his magic a moment ago.”

Harry’s fists tensed at his sides at the Mediwitch’s statement. “I did not.” The quiet denial was laced with anger. Ginny came to stand next to Harry. She put a comforting hand on his arm; he didn’t seem to notice.

“Harry, my potions were vibrating in the cupboard across the room,” Poppy said gently. And indeed, a few vials were shattered, their contents dripping languidly onto the floor.

“It was my fault…I’m sorry, Harry.” Harry tensed at Sirius’ strained apology; Remus glanced over at Sirius in surprise.

Severus turned slowly; his eyes narrowed dangerously. Instinctively, he had moved as soon as he’d heard Sirius’ words, so that he was standing protectively in front of Harry. He faced Sirius, who was standing to the side of his bed now.

“What did you do to him?” Severus’ voice was like a whip; Sirius continued to stare at Harry, but he did flinch slightly at Severus’ harsh tone. Remus stepped forward, intending to forestall a confrontation.

“Severus-”

“This does not concern you, Remus,” Severus snapped; Remus fell silent, mostly out of surprise that Severus had so easily used his first name.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Harry,” Sirius continued on; he was moving slowly toward Harry. “I just wanted to understand…” Severus took a menacing step forward. Sirius halted his forward motion.

“Understand what?” Severus growled.

“It’s nothing,” Harry interjected in a high voice, stepping around Severus. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Severus, perhaps this isn’t the best time-”

Severus pivoted around, leveling the Mediwitch with a fierce glare. “This does not concern you either, Poppy. You had no right to allow Harry to come up here without my permission.” Poppy stared at him, suitably flummoxed by the sharp reprimand.

“Since when does Harry need anyone’s permission to see me?” Sirius demanded mulishly, and Remus wanted to tell Sirius to shut up. For his own health—and certainly for Harry’s.

Severus spun back around to face Sirius. “Since you obviously cannot be around Harry without causing him to unleash accidental magic,” he spat.

“I didn’t mean to do that!” Sirius retorted, his face flushing with anger.

“Then perhaps you need to learn to control yourself better,” Severus snapped. Sirius’ fisted hands jumped at his sides.

“I should learn better control?” he echoed incredulously. “Up until a few months ago, you couldn’t be around Harry without trying to make him pay for James’ mistakes. But you actually were in control then, weren’t you?” Sirius demanded venomously. The cords along Severus’ neck began to pulse.

“Is this why you wanted to speak with Harry? To make him relive each of my sins?”

Sirius went right on, as though Severus hadn’t even spoken, “You were trying to torture him. You were just as abusive toward him as the Dursleys.”

Remus took a step back as Severus advanced on Sirius; his face was purple with rage. “Do you honestly believe I do not realize this? That I do not hate myself every day for what I’ve done to my son?” Faces cringed all around the Infirmary as Severus roared; if possible, Harry’s tremors intensified at his father’s livid shout; he shook off Ginny’s hand as a wave of nervous anger trembled through his body.

Instead of mollifying Sirius, Severus’ words only seemed to fuel his fury. “You should hate yourself!” he shouted as he leaned toward Severus; a flask of purple potion flew from the shelves and Remus had to duck to avoid its erratic flight path. “It was because of you that he was abused by the Dursleys in the first place You abandoned him without a second thought. Even after Lily and James died, even then you didn’t go back for him! You let him rot there. You have no right to call yourself Harry’s father!”

“I know that!” The words were almost incoherent with rage. Several empty glasses popped along a high shelf on a nearby wall.

“Then stop messing him around!” Sirius screamed before Severus could continue, not understanding the depth of hurt or even the meaning behind Severus’ words. More sounds of broken glass ricocheted around the room. “Stop acting as though you can give a damn about a boy you hated for five years—a helpless child that you abandoned as though he was nothing!” Remus reached a hand out to pull Sirius away from Severus, his head spinning with anger at both of them, but Sirius shoved him away roughly. Remus stumbled, unable to catch himself, and was sent sprawling to the floor. “You’ve messed him up so badly, that he actually believes you love him!” Sirius shouted.

Incensed, Severus grabbed Sirius’ arm. “I do love him,” he hissed. “Is that what you told him, Black? That I could not love him?” Severus shook Sirius hard enough to rattle the other man’s teeth. “How dare you? He is my son!”

“And you abandoned him once already!” Sirius’ loud, derisive words were rattled all over the room, but then with a start, Remus realized that it was the room that was shaking.

Harry was still standing behind Severus and Sirius, his entire frame trembling dangerously. There was a wide empty space surrounding him—Ginny was no longer beside him, and Remus could see the air vibrating around his young friend. Ginny and Poppy seemed to be trying to enter the space around Harry, but they couldn’t, even though Poppy had her wand out and was chanting some sort of counter spell. Ron’s and Hermione’s eyes were riveted on Severus and Sirius.

“No,” Harry whispered; Sirius was forced roughly away from Severus’ grip. Both men snarled, each assuming the other had done it; even Harry didn’t seem to be aware that he had thrown the two men apart.

“Harry!” Remus shouted in alarm as objects within Harry’s magical circle began to swirl in a whirlwind around Harry’s head.

It did the trick; Severus spun around, forgetting that he was only seconds away from snapping Black’s neck. The anger immediately drained from his body as he saw his son standing in a circle of flying objects.

Severus could feel the crackle of Harry’s magic dampening the air. What was left of Poppy’s potions vials were rattling sharply on the shelves behind him. Several of the metal bed frames were bent or had fallen to the stone floor. Everything that was still on the ground within Harry’s magical boundary was jumping violently.

Severus felt Black moving past him, in an attempt to reach Harry. He was bounced unceremoniously backward before he could cross the invisible magical shield. Severus could almost see it.

Severus lifted his hands upward, his palms facing outward. Harry’s wisp was quaking with rage again amongst Severus’ flames. Severus softened the flames so that they radiated easy warmth.

“Harry,” he said quietly, pitching his voice to be low and soothing. Harry’s eyes focused on Severus. Severus felt Harry’s magic washing over him as he passed through the shield and crossed into Harry’s magical space.

Harry was glaring at him, with his fists clenched at his sides. It looked like it was taking all of his effort to keep them there.

I understand. Severus waited for a second, letting Harry know that he understood his need to unleash this pent-up anger that had been building for some time now—possibly for months, or even years. And Severus understood that a considerable amount of that anger was directed at him.

Harry’s fists continued to quiver and then his face contorted with a plethora of emotions, so many that Severus lost count. But the last one was anguish.

Harry flung himself away from his father.

He strode forward and with so much force that it should have broken his bones, Harry slammed his knuckles into the unyielding stone wall. The pain radiated up his arms almost immediately; Harry sucked in a breath. The wild magic needed no more encouragement. It shot up from his core and through his body. The round bubbled aura of his magic exploded—leaving him empty. A moment of vertigo assaulted him and he had to rest his forehead against the craggy wall for support.

He stood there, simply trying to breathe.

He drew in a ragged breath as he felt familiar hands on his shoulders. He was turned carefully around and then Harry found himself wrapped in his father’s arms. He stood there, rigid and still shaking. But he didn’t resist the embrace.

Harry’s teeth were chattering and he was still trembling, but this time it was from the release of both his anger and his magic. Severus tightened his arms reassuringly. “Breathe,” he commanded quietly. Harry immediately complied, as if he suddenly realized he was supposed to be doing that already. Severus felt him sag a little; he leaned his forehead against Severus’ chest.

Nobody else said a word as they stood there. But Severus didn’t even attempt to move; Harry’s breathing was evening out, his wisp calming slowly as the minutes crawled by. Uneasy silence echoed all around them.

“Can we go home now?”

The mumbled words startled Severus, but when he concentrated, he could feel embarrassment beginning to seep over Harry’s exhaustion. “Of course,” he murmured. He squeezed Harry’s shoulders before he pivoted so that he had only one arm around Harry’s shoulder; he wasn’t certain his son wouldn’t fall over. Harry leaned into the support before glancing up. They were surrounded by concerned eyes.

Harry grimaced as he spotted Ginny looking worried and confused—and maybe even hurt. He wanted to tell her they could talk later, but he honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to—or even if he wanted to. All of this was just too much. He didn’t think he could muddle through a conversation about how Sirius hadn’t been inside his head when he’d touched her. He tried to smile a little; her lips lifted in a sad smile of her own. Harry turned his eyes to the floor before Ron or Hermione could make eye contact.

“Harry…”

Severus and Harry had made it to the hearth rug. Harry closed his eyes as he reached out and gripped the edge of the fireplace for support. “I can’t, Sirius.” Sirius’ eyes were searching his, almost pleading with him and Harry had to turn away. He was too angry even to attempt an apology. He stepped silently into the fireplace with his father by his side.

“Snape quarters, Hogwarts.” With Severus’ command, and a flash of powder, Harry and Severus flooed away, with Harry still leaning into Severus’ side.

--

Sirius was certain his heart was being dragged away with the green flames. “Damn it,” he said harshly, to no one in particular. He smacked his palm against the rough stones, feeling like his own guilt was going to crush him. Five pairs of eyes glared at him in accusation. All of them except Poppy looked downright murderous.

Remus spoke first. “You told Harry that Severus couldn’t love him?” Sirius winced at the wrath embedded in Remus’ soft words.

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t,” Remus warned, his voice lowering considerably. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking,” he snapped. His chest was beginning to rise and fall rapidly and Sirius easily recognized his burgeoning anger—an emotion which Remus rarely allowed himself. “Did you see what you did to your godson? How could you say anything like to him? To Harry of all people?” Sirius swallowed. Thank Merlin that Remus didn’t know the extent of what he’d said earlier.

“Harry already believes that he doesn’t deserve to have anyone care for him,” Hermione spoke up, her lips turned down firmly in disapproval.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed with a scowl. “And he’s already gone mental enough times this year. He doesn’t need you making things worse.”

Ginny didn’t say anything, and Sirius figured she was too angry. She should be angry.

But he hadn’t been trying to make this worse for Harry. And he had been thinking—he’d been trying to think about Harry. Sirius closed his eyes. To him, it had been only yesterday that Harry had hated Snape. He had only wanted to understand… And all he’d done was hurt his godson. Harry had looked at him with such a pained expression. Sirius had made him look like that.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he whispered, lowering his head as the shame stabbed at him.

“Well you did,” Remus told him in a hard tone, unrelenting.

“I know.” Sirius fingered the parchment that Albus had given him. He hadn’t even had a chance to tell Harry the good news. He was a free man. He had waited for this day for two years, and now it was here. And Harry wasn’t here to share it. It barely even meant anything anymore, even to Sirius. “Do you think he’ll be able to forgive me?”

“I think you’ll be lucky if Severus even allows you to see Harry long enough for you to apologize,” Remus said flatly.

Sirius wanted to be angry at the words, but he couldn’t be. Whatever Snape had been, and no matter how much Sirius loathed him, he would have had to be blind in the past fifteen minutes, not to see that Snape cared about Harry. None of them, not even Ginny, had been allowed through the magical shield Harry had erected.

Except Snape.

And yet Sirius had seen the way Harry had glared at Snape. He wasn’t exactly sure why Harry would have been angry with Snape, but he’d still allowed Snape to hug him. He’d leaned into the man for support without reservation. As though he’d done it many times before. Sirius sagged with the realization. Snape did love Harry. And Harry clearly loved Snape.

Harry didn’t need him anymore.

The parchment in his pocket wrinkled as Sirius’ fingers curled around it. “Albus came earlier. They’ve cleared my name.” Silence permeated the room around him. Sirius knew they were thinking of Harry, and what that news would have meant to him once. Not even Remus seemed to be able to spare a smile over the news.

Sirius felt like he was drowning in his grief. He would take Scrimgeour’s offer. Harry’s godfather, the note had stated clearly, will always be welcome at the Ministry. They probably wouldn’t be so eager if they’d known what he’d just done to his godson.

“I’m a bastard,” he said quietly. No one contradicted him.

Poppy finally broke the silence.

“Sirius you should lie down,” she said in her clipped, professional tones. He shook his head.

“I’m going to Grimmauld Place. I’ll stay there until I can get a flat, I suppose.” He shrugged at Poppy’s look of concern. “I’ll be all right.”

Remus sighed. “I’ll go with you. Help you get settled.” He didn’t sound angry any longer, though Sirius wasn’t daft enough to believe he wasn’t. He was offering out of obligation, but Sirius wasn’t feeling up to being alone at the moment, so he simply nodded.

“I’ll need to get you some potions,” Poppy said as she looked helplessly around the Infirmary. She sighed as she realized exactly how much destruction Harry’s and Severus’ anger—and Sirius’ thoughtlessness had done to her sanctuary.

1996 

Harry shrugged away from Severus as soon as they stepped onto the hearth rug. Severus let his arm fall back to his side. They stared at each other.

“Do your hands hurt?” Severus finally asked, breaking the silence. Harry glanced down at his knuckles as if surprised by the question. The skin was scraped and beginning to darken with bruises; it was even bleeding slightly. And it bloody well did hurt, but Harry only nodded. “A wrap which has been soaked in Murtlap Sap will help,” Severus told him. He gestured toward his lab.

Harry led the way; he sat heavily on one of the stools as Severus moved toward the largest of his cupboards. He took a large jar filled with sap-soaked strips of cloth. He extracted two of them and turned back to Harry. Harry was watching his movements, his mouth set in a thin line. Severus pushed his unease away.

“Your hands,” he directed softly. Harry held out his hands, knuckles up. With gentle movements, Severus carefully wrapped each row of knuckles, winding the strips several times around. When he was finished, he waved his wand and chanted a spell over each hand. “That will keep the wraps in place.”

Harry nodded as he pulled his hands back toward the edge of the table. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“You are welcome.” Severus carefully kept his tone from matching the stiffness in Harry’s. After he re-capped the jar and placed it back in his cupboard, he asked quietly, “Do you wish to discuss your conversation with Black?”

Harry’s hands stayed very still on the table. “He already told you what we talked about.”

“Is that all you spoke about?” Severus attempted to keep his voice neutral but it was impossible; he was still seething over the Black’s verbal cruelty.

“I agreed that you were an arsehole.” Severus had no time to recover from that particular, unexpected blow, as Harry continued blithely, “And then I reminded him that he didn’t care enough about me to come check on me either until he saw that picture of Ron’s rat.” He laughed bitterly. “Even Scabbers rated a visit before I did.”

Severus struggled for what to say. It hadn’t occurred to him that Harry might feel resentment toward Black, especially as it was an irrational resentment. No one else had had any reason to believe that Harry’s relatives’ wouldn’t have loved Harry as their own. Harry was already nodding tiredly, as if he’d understood Severus’ silence.

“I know it’s a stupid thing to be angry over, but I am anyway.”

“You have every right to be angry-”

“I know,” Harry interrupted tersely. “And you made certain Sirius would have no doubt about that.”

Severus stared at his son, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t understand,” Harry told him, emphasizing his words with a sharp shake of his head. Severus narrowed his eyes as he considered the unexpected statement, placing it uncertainly.

“I understand that you are angry with me, and you have every right to be. My past mistakes-”

“You have to stop that!” Harry’s slightly manic demand snapped Severus’ mouth shut in mid-sentence. “Stop believing that you don’t deserve to be my father!”

Severus stared at his son, completely taken aback by Harry’s words. “Harry, I-”

“No,” Harry said with a vehement shake of his head. “How could you let Sirius go on that way and not say anything? You agreed with him! With everything he said!” Harry exhaled a harsh breath. “How the hell are we ever going to be ‘just father and son’, like you said we could be, if you give me the brush-off every time you convince yourself I’m going to decide I agree with Sirius as well?”

When Severus could only stare at his son in utter confusion, for the words wouldn’t register in his brain, Harry threw up his bandaged hands in exasperation. “I acted like a complete berk for days and instead of telling me to knock it off, you turned off all your emotions while you waited for me to tell you I didn’t want to be your son. And all that meant was that I actually believed it when Voldemort said you didn’t want me!”

Severus tried to slow his erratic breathing—it was actually becoming painful. He’d had no idea that this was the source of Harry’s anger. Severus had prepared himself for anger directed at his years of mistreatment. But this—to hear Harry say that he, Severus, was still a source of the kind of pain that had unleashed the violent anger in the Infirmary… It was…unthinkable. Shaking his head slowly, he said gruffly, “I never meant for you believe-”

“Well, what the sodding hell else was I supposed to think?” Harry erupted. “All I could see that night before you practically shoved me through the portrait hole was Snape—the man who hated me for years! Not a father who loves me. Of course I believed that you hated me. You were acting like you did.”

Severus wanted to take a step toward Harry, to assure him that he had not hated him for a moment, that he loved him more than he had the ability to describe, but his feet wouldn’t obey his command. And this didn’t seem to be about anything as simple as whether or not Severus loved him. What could he say…save his deepest regrets for the pain he’d inadvertently caused his son that night?

“Harry…” Severus said painfully, “I am deeply sorry-”

Harry stood up abruptly; his stool scraped viciously across the stone floor. “Stop being sorry,” he ordered angrily, “and just be my father.”

Severus’ chest was constricting harshly as he reeled with what Harry was trying to say to him, and he couldn’t formulate words by this point, but Harry wasn’t nearly finished. His green eyes were dancing with renewed anger—all of it for Severus now. And, Severus finally realized as Harry’s words sunk in, that it wasn’t just about the past few days.

Harry’s next words might as well have been blows.

“Do you even know how long it took me to stop thinking of you as Snape, the git who despised me and just see you as my father…how hard it was for me to accept that you might be able to love me? You went back and forth between the two for so long, that I almost never knew who was going to show up. You can’t do that to me anymore.” Harry’s lip began to quiver. “I’m tired of wondering whether or not you want me.” The words were almost swallowed by the dry sob that broke free from Harry’s chest.

Before Severus could even begin to search for something to say—anything to attempt to comfort his son, Harry turned sharply away and left the lab with quick strides. Severus gripped the edge of the table; he was beginning to feel unsteady. But he watched, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry’s slightly slumped back, until Harry turned the corner toward his room. And then the soft click that accompanied Harry’s door closing tore Severus’ heart to shreds.

--

As soon as the door closed behind him, Harry leaned his back against it, his palms pressing flat against the wood. His head thumped to meet the door as well, his face turned up to the ceiling as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Spasms were coursing through Harry’s chest and gut; he squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t do any good. The conversations of the last hour were swirling mercilessly in his thoughts. His own words were shouting back at him in an echoing taunt.

He’d called his father an areshole, not only to Sirius, but right to his face.

You called him a git as well, his conscience reminded him as bits of conversation screeched at him.

I hate myself every day for what I’ve done to my son.

You don’t deserve to be Harry’s father. Sirius had shouted it right into Severus’ face. And then, in front of so many people Harry loved, his father had laid bare his greatest fear. And Harry had just spent the last ten minutes telling his father to how much that fear was hurting him.

The knife twisting in Severus’ back…

Harry brought his fists up to his eyes and pressed his heels into his eyes; he slid down to the floor, his legs folding at the knee until he could rest his elbows on them. The guilt he’d felt over the past twelve hours was nothing compared to the guilt he felt now. He didn’t want to be so angry—not over a past that none of them could change, or over his father’s fear of rejection.

But he was, damn it. He was furious. And he was still feeling very close to rage at his godfather for saying all those things in the first place and making him think about things he preferred to keep buried. And now Harry had destroyed any of hope of that.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, knowing he’d be crying if he wasn’t feeling so empty inside. He wished he could make his mind equally as barren.

Harry sat there, turning his unhelpful thoughts over and over his mind, until he was forced to give into his protesting bladder hours later. Sighing, Harry pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he levered himself up; his hands were beginning to pulse with renewed pain. Steeling himself for possibly meeting his father in the corridor, Harry opened the door.

His father was just coming out of his own room.

Harry’s insides gnawed at him as he took in his father’s ashen face; there were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He looked the very picture of misery. But as soon as he saw Harry, Severus straightened and Harry could easily see that he was struggling to compose himself. Harry wanted to say something to break the silence, but he couldn’t come up with anything more meaningful than his rather urgent need to use the loo, so he said nothing.

“I was on my way to my lab.”

Harry blinked at the unnecessary filler. “Loo,” he explained for himself.

Severus inclined his head. Harry stared at his father for another moment before he realized that he was waiting for Harry to go first. He ducked his head and trudged into the washroom. His anger hadn’t entirely dissipated, but he certainly wasn’t boiling over like he’d been earlier and now he was wary of his father’s reaction to what he’d said. If there was ever a time for Severus to react with the old coldness, this was certainly it.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, in a completely ineffectual attempt to still his nerves as he left the loo. He paused right before he reached the sitting room. He didn’t particularly want to spend the rest of the evening in his room, but neither was he ready to talk to his dad. He sighed and went into the sitting room anyway. Severus was reading a scroll near the table.

He looked up at Harry’s light footsteps. And again the two of them stared at one another.

“Minerva has set the detention for you and your housemates for this evening, right after dinner,” Severus finally broke the silence.

“Oh,” was Harry’s brilliant response. Severus handed the parchment to Harry. It said essentially the same thing except for ordering Harry to report to the D.A.D.A classroom for detention with Remus. Harry shook his head, knowing immediately that McGonagall had obviously taken Dumbledore’s words to heart earlier—or perhaps this was his father’s influence. He’d received a token detention, for the benefit of his housemates. He sighed and tossed the parchment back on the table.

Severus was watching him. “Are you feeling pain in your hands?”

“A bit.”

“I should re-dress them before we leave for the Great Hall. It is nearly six o’clock,” he said quietly, and since he obviously wasn’t going to make mention of the phony detention, Harry certainly wasn’t going to. There was very little point, and besides it would be much more normal for him to accept that he was dodging a punishment he clearly deserved, wouldn’t it?

Harry followed Severus into the lab again, though he really wanted to tell his father that he had no desire to go to the Great Hall and see anyone who wanted to make a fuss over him about Voldemort. He grimaced to himself as he remembered his giant-sized ego of the past days. It was actually quite surprising that no one had begun to claim earlier that Harry had been possessed by Voldemort. He had certainly been acting like it.

“If you are ready?”

Harry pursed his lips at the murmured inquiry. He pushed down the resurgence of guilt as he complied and watched his father removing the strips of cloth with movements designed to be conscious of tender skin.

Why the hell did he have to say those awful things? He’d meant every word, but he knew if he had easy access to a time turner, he’d cuff his past self on the head and tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

“Is it really so late?” Harry asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence once his hands were freshly bandaged. He hadn’t noticed that so much time had passed, and of course he wasn’t feeling hungry at all. He was much too jittery.

“It is.”

Harry watched Severus replacing his jar of strips in the cupboard. He seemed to be taking much longer than was necessary. When he turned around again, his eyes were dark. After another stiff moment, Severus made a noise that Harry had never heard from him before. He’d cleared his throat, a sound so disconcertingly foreign, that Harry almost blurted out a retraction to everything he’d said.

“Harry…” he said in a quiet voice, “…I am uncertain how to-”

The expectation of the end of that sentence fanned Harry’s dormant anger. “You haven’t even tried and you’re already giving up?” he demanded. His father’s black eyes widened a little, and then he seemed to wilt a little, but perhaps it was only a trick of the extra candles that were always lit in the lab.

“I have no intention of giving up,” Severus said softly, and Harry could feel the hurt that his quick accusation had caused; there had been no trick of the candlelight. “I am uncertain how to continue this conversation without causing you further pain.”

“Oh.”

“I had no idea, Harry, that my actions were hurting you so much.”

Harry studied his wraps. That doesn’t make it go away, he said silently. But with a shrug he simply said, “I know.”

“I had-” Severus’ words faltered as his face struggled not to crumple. “I had expected your anger to be focused on the way I treated you during the past school years.”

Harry’s insides squirmed frantically. “I-” There didn’t seem to be an easy response to that, so Harry didn’t continue the attempt. He wanted to explain that he wasn’t so much angry about the years past, as he was terrified of them. Terrified that they would become the present. Harry shivered at the horrific thought.

Severus clasped his hands together; the uncharacteristic gesture gathered Harry’s attention. “I realize now that the two issues are intertwined.” Even though the words were soft, Harry flinched at them. The intervening hours must have been torturous for his father. And yet, Harry’s lingering, unresolved anger wouldn’t allow him to apologize.

There was another stretch of silence, during which Harry tried to figure out the best way to make all of this go away. He couldn’t. He swallowed painfully; his throat was beginning to burn. “I don’t want to be angry.”

At the forlorn words, sadness and grief shadowed his father’s eyes. “You are not ready to forgive me; anger is a natural part of the process.”

The clinical assessment had Harry gritting his teeth in frustration and spinning around to face the sitting room.

“Harry?”

Harry sought guidance from the ceiling. “You don’t understand.” The echoed words stabbed at both of them. “I have forgiven you, but it doesn’t even make any difference, because you won’t forgive yourself.”

“How can I, Harry? How can I forgive myself for hurting you?” The strangled whisper brought tears to Harry’s eyes, and he wanted more than anything to simply throw his arms around his father and tell he hadn’t meant any of it. But the grief was overwhelmed by the anger, still so raw in the wounds re-opened first by Voldemort and then again by Sirius.

“Because if you don’t, you’ll just keep hurting me.”

The silence that followed clung to Harry like a damp blanket, soaking him in regret. He could hear his father’s slightly uneven breathing behind him. And Harry knew of all the words he’d spoken tonight, these hurt his father the most. And in that silent moment, Harry had a fleeting wish to punch Sirius right in the nose.

--

Severus stared at the back of Harry’s head, wishing more than he ever had that he had killed his mother, instead of showing her mercy. She deserved no less than Voldemort’s slowest torture. But beyond that dark desire, Severus had no idea how to proceed. As it was when Harry had first explained his anger, Severus’ first instinct was to retreat, in preparation for the inevitable.

He forced himself not to give in.

Severus held no delusions that Harry would not eventually discover him for who he truly was, but in those moments, Severus made a vow. He would not cause his son even one more moment of pain, even though it would make the inevitable all the more impossible to bear.

Severus wanted to say as much to Harry, but Harry spoke before he could.

“I probably shouldn’t be late for dinner if I’m going to make it to my detention afterwards.” His hoarse voice sounded like one of the Muggle foghorns Severus had once heard when he’d run away from home. A disastrous adventure…and a painful one, once he’d been caught…

Harry went into the sitting room almost as soon as the words left his mouth. Severus, stilling his trembling fingers, followed and then led the way out into the shadowy corridors. Harry walked as quickly as possible, and though Severus had no difficulty keeping up with his son’s long strides, he was well aware that Harry was hoping to reach the Great Hall swiftly enough that speech would be unnecessary. Severus attempted conversation only once.

“You do not need to serve the detention, if you do not wish to.”

“Yes I do,” Harry returned tersely. They were both silent the remainder of the long walk.

The students in the Great Hall seemed even more eager to see Harry than they had been before. Severus watched Harry’s reaction carefully, but Harry only nodded distractedly toward those who were clamoring, as he and Severus walked down the aisle. His entire attitude, from the way he held himself, to the look on his face, was in stark opposition to the Harry who’d greeted his fans only yesterday. It made Severus all the more certain that Harry had been influenced by Black.

Yet another reason to loathe the other man.

Once they’d reached the end of the seemingly never-ending aisle, Severus paused as he struggled for something to say that wouldn’t betray his desire to pull his emotions back inside himself. Not coming up with a suitable comment to leave his son with, Severus simply patted Harry lightly on the shoulder; the movement was intolerably awkward.

Harry gave him a strained smile and plunked heavily into his customary seat at the long Gryffindor table. His friends were all in the midst of complaining about their upcoming detentions.

“Ginny didn’t think you’d be here, Harry. She wasn’t very hungry.”

Severus watched Harry frown at Ms. Granger’s words before he turned, feeling like his heart was filled with sand, and went to his place at the Head Table. He gave Lupin a brief glance as he sat in his chair.

“I would have expected you to be with Black, unless you’ve finally accepted him for the bastard he is, after that little display?” Severus’ query was virulent with sarcasm. Remus sighed, sounding extremely fatigued.

“He’s staying at Grimmauld Place for now. I went with to help him get settled. Poppy’s with him now.” He turned to give Harry a worried look. “Minerva asked me to supervise detention for Harry and his friends…how is he?”

Severus finished slicing his chicken into six even pieces before answering. “As to be expected after Black saw fit to scream abuses at him. Or did you expect Harry to be unaffected by his cruelty?”

“Believe me, Severus, I am no happier with Sirius than you are. I’m furious with him, actually,” he added softly. Severus looked over to Remus in surprise, his snark momentarily forgotten. Remus smiled sadly at him. “Sirius isn’t overly pleased with himself either.” He sighed again. “He was exonerated from all the charges against him—Albus arranged it. He was despondent that Harry wasn’t able to share it with him.”

“As he should have been,” Severus said coldly. Remus didn’t respond as he turned back to his plate.

Neither he nor Remus did much more than stab random pieces of meat and potatoes with their forks. Both of them spent most of the meal watching Harry doing the same with his own dinner. Conversations were going all around Harry but Harry very seldom added anything. His throng of admirers didn’t seem to notice; they continued jabbering happily.

Minerva finally wiped the happy smiles off their faces when she descended on them and began pointing imperiously toward the door. Once most of the offenders from her own house were gathering up their belongings, she moved on to gather the stray Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who had somehow found their way to the gathering last night.

Harry was rising slowly with Weasley; the other boy was looking most put-out. Ms. Granger rolled her eyes as she tugged on his arm. Harry glanced up at the Head Table. His eyes met Severus’. Severus allowed his lips to life the tiniest bit in a smile, hoping to ease some of his son’s anxiety. But oddly enough, that seemed to further Harry’s discomfort. He turned away, hunched up his shoulders and followed after his friends.

Severus closed his eyes, as the familiar torrent of guilt flooded through him. The acidic tide ate slowly away at his security, exposing the self-doubts—the loathing. The guilt would begin to torment him, as it always did, if he allowed it to roam free for too long. Severus was very close to welcoming it.

“Severus?”

Severus opened his eyes; the flood waters receded. Remus was gazing at him with concern.

“Are you all right, Severus?” he asked worriedly.

“I have a detention to supervise,” Severus answered, ignoring the question. Minerva had tried to refuse his offer to do so when he’d contacted her a few hours ago, but Severus could think of no better way to spend the evening than hovering over students while they scrubbed cauldrons and gutted frogs. He had asked specifically to supervise the Hufflepuffs, knowing that Harry’s pushy admirer, Elizabeth, would be in the group. He knew she was quite averse to all things slimy.

“I’ll walk with you,” Remus offered, following Severus’ lead in pushing back his chair. Severus did not welcome the company, but he said nothing as he pivoted away from the staff table. They had barely passed through the exit, when Remus said quietly, “Sirius is rejoining the Aurors…as soon as Poppy clears him.”

Severus stopped walking. “Does Harry know?”

“No.”

Severus narrowed his eyes dangerously. “If he is leaving because of what he said to Harry, I will snap his neck, as I should have done in the Infirmary.”

Remus stared at him. “Killing him won’t solve any of this.”

Severus scowled. “Do you realize how much guilt Harry will amass if he discovers Black is leaving because of what happened?”

Remus nodded tiredly. “Yes. But Sirius doesn’t believe Harry will ever speak to him again. He is aware of how wrong he was.”

“And I am certain that you are aware of how easily Harry forgives those who do not deserve it,” Severus returned. And then he spun away again, cursing himself for allowing his emotions too close to the surface. He stared at the cracks in the dark stone wall long enough to gain control again before continuing down the empty corridor.

“Poppy told me that you were considering having a holiday with Harry,” Remus finally said conversationally, in a glaringly obvious attempt to smooth over Severus’ outburst.

“I have given it some thought.” Severus ignored his discomfort. It seemed unlikely that Harry would be in any mood to spend extraneous time with him at the moment. He could feel Remus’ eyes on him.

“Severus, I know Sirius’ words must have opened many old wounds, and if there’s anything-”

Severus halted again. He calmed his reflexive anger before speaking. “Harry was understandably upset. I am perfectly all right. And while I am certain he would appreciate the offer, I do not.”

“Well, the offer stands as long as you need it,” Remus said seriously, not looking in the least put out by the rebuff. And then he smiled and took a step toward Severus. Severus almost lost his balance in his haste to get away.

“I am not distraught. I do not require a hug,” he snapped as he righted himself. Remus stared at him, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“My classroom,” he explained, gesturing faintly to the open door behind Severus.

Severus glared at him as he flung his robe tails behind him. He stalked off down the hall. Remus continued to stare after him.

--

McGonagall had obviously considered Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville as innocent as Harry; they’d been given detentions in the D.A.D.A. classroom as well. Remus set them all practicing dueling spells, giving them all a wink when they stared at him with bewilderment. He paired Neville with Ron and Hermione with Ginny, leaving himself to partner Harry. While the others began practicing, Remus gestured Harry over to the corner near his raised office.

Harry sat on the bottom step without being asked. Remus eased himself next to Harry; they watched the others dueling. “How are your hands?” Remus asked after a few minutes of easy silence. Harry shrugged.

“They don’t hurt.”

“Handy thing to have a father who’s a Potions Master,” Remus said with a smile. The comment made Harry’s hands tense on his knees; it didn’t escape Remus’ notice. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked softly, so that no one else would hear them. Harry took a deep breath. He blew it sharply out again.

“I shouldn’t be angry with him,” he said, sounding completely miserable.

“The things Sirius said were indefensible, Harry-”

Harry didn’t even take note of Remus’ hard tone as he shook his head. “My dad.”

Remus paused, but then he nodded slowly. “Sirius’ words opened old wounds. It’s only natural that you’re feeling hurt over things that happened in the past. Your father understands that and he wouldn’t hold your feelings against you. He loves you dearly, Harry.”

The words opened the dam that had been holding all of Harry’s overwhelming emotions at bay. Sucking in a trembling rush of air, he bent over his knees. He immediately felt Remus’ hand on his back.

Harry spent the next five minutes trying to force his tears to relent.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said hoarsely as he scrubbed at his eyes. Remus handed him a handkerchief.

“It’s all right, Harry,” he assured his distraught friend. He patted a few more circles on Harry’s back. Harry took a few breaths before he brought his head up again; the others in the room didn’t seem to have noticed Harry’s breakdown. “What happened?” Remus asked quietly, after he too checked to make sure Harry’s friends were still practicing. He listened while Harry related the entire sordid tale; Harry’s cheeks remained rosy the entire time.

“Why can’t he just accept that I’ve forgiven him?” Harry asked angrily as he twisted the wet handkerchief into a nervous knot. “It’s as if he just doesn’t understand that I love him. Just like he didn’t think mum really loved him.”

Remus considered his words carefully as he watched Ron firing a jinx at Neville. “Your father has only been loved by a handful of people in his entire life. He doesn’t really understand what it means to be loved by someone. He can’t believe it can be so easy, even when the evidence is right in front of him.”

“But I do, Remus.”

Remus gave him a fleeting smile. “I know you do, but we all battle with self-doubt, Harry,” Remus said as he continued to stare at his dueling students. Harry frowned at his soiled handkerchief as he twiddled it aimlessly in his fingers.

“You mean about Tonks…and your being a werewolf?”

“That, of course, but I was referring to you, actually.”

Harry looked over at Remus in surprise. “Me?”

Remus shrugged. “It has crossed my mind that with Sirius back, I’ll be relegated to the bottom of your list.” The words were soft, but Harry clearly heard the quiver of pain in them.

That had been the last thing he had been expecting Remus to say, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Feeling oddly nervous, Harry finally said, “I wouldn’t let that happen, Remus.” He shifted uncomfortably and turned his eyes back to his hands. “I’ve—I’ve sort of thought of you as my honorary godfather for awhile now,” he confessed, feeling incredibly foolish. What a daft thing to say to someone! When Remus didn’t say anything, Harry looked up again with a grimace. Remus was staring at him.

“Harry…” Remus looked completely lost, but only for a second before a smile lit up his face. And Harry noticed that his scars seemed less pronounced than they had before, though Harry supposed he hadn’t really scrutinized them before. He smiled at his friend, his self-consciousness fading swiftly.

“Not too daft, then?” he asked, only half joking. Remus chuckled.

“I’m honored Harry.” He gave Harry’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You do realize I’ve thought of you that way as well, for quite some time now?”

“Yeah.” Harry knew it, of course, but he enjoyed the warm feelings that Remus’ words brought to his chest. “That’s why it bothered me so much when you said you’d give me detention,” he added quietly after a minute of warm silence had passed. “I know I deserved it,” he put in hastily. With the same look of regret that he’d worn in the Infirmary over this very same subject, Remus shook his head.

“I understand why you’d be hurt. I don’t believe I’ve ever assigned a detention…not even to Fred and George Weasley, and they pulled more than their share of pranks in my classroom their fifth year.” Remus’ eyes held only warmth as he firmly held Harry’s gaze. “You were disrespectful, but I do regret threatening you with detention. A gentler approach probably would have worked just as well.”

Harry smiled wryly at his friend. “I don’t know about that. My head was inflated beyond all reach by that point.”

Remus smiled again. “Well, I should have been more understanding. Looking back, it’s easy to see that you weren’t yourself…that you were being affected by forces beyond your control.”

Harry sighed. Remus raised his eyes in question. “Why won’t anyone even consider the possibility that it was me, simply acting like a prat…at least partially, then?” he amended when Remus gave him a skeptical look. “You know,” he said with a minor scowl, “Ginny thinks I was possessed by Sirius…so does my dad. And with Ginny, it makes things a bit complicated.”

Remus’ lips twitched but he stilled them at Harry’s deepening frown. “Is that why the two of you were on opposite sides of the room when I came in?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure actually. I think she was upset after what happened in the Infirmary. Maybe she doesn’t fancy a boyfriend who destroys entire rooms.” The self-deprecating laugh caused the lines around Remus’ eyes to deepen with concern.

“You had cause to be so angry, Harry.”

Harry sighed, and swiped a hand over his prickling eyes. He hated crying. And then he wondered if perhaps his angry words had caused his father to cry as well. The thought made him feel ill.

“It needed to be said, Harry.” Harry glanced up. Remus nodded at him. “You need to stop feeling guilty, just as much as your father does. It’s the only way the two of you will be able to speak openly about this.”

Harry ducked his head, knowing Remus was right. He couldn’t very well expect his father to expunge his guilt if Harry was wrestling with his own guilt over pointing out Severus’ faults in the first place.

“I’m angry with Sirius as well,” he said darkly. And then he surprised himself by asking, “Is he all right?”

Remus didn’t look at all surprised by the question. “He’s angry with himself as well. He’s sleeping at the moment, however. At Madame Pomfrey’s insistence.”

Harry folded his arms and hunched over his knees again as he watched Ginny blocking one of Hermione’s hexes. He was glad Sirius was sleeping, though he hoped Pomfrey had given him a Dream Suppressive at least. He said as much to Remus. Remus patted his shoulder again and assured him that she had. Harry nodded with relief, but still the urge to throttle his godfather remained pretty strong in his gut. He grimaced, remembering a similar feeling toward his father. What sort of wanker wished he could do bodily harm to two people he loved so fiercely?

--

They talked for awhile longer, and when Harry was feeling more in control, he exchanged a few curses with Remus, but by the time 8 o’clock came around, Remus told all of them to take a break. “Perhaps you can look around the classroom for any blatant hazards. It is very important, after all, for a Defense classroom to be hazard-free.” He smiled encouragingly at them when Neville and Ron only stared at him before going to his desk and starting in on a stack of essays.

Hermione made a rather botched attempt at discreetly pulling Ron and Neville away from Harry and Ginny. Harry appreciated it anyway.

“How are feeling?” Ginny asked him as they meandered around the perimeter of the room.

“Better.” Ginny smiled a little. “Are you still worried about what happened between us?” Harry asked nervously.

Ginny stopped walking. She wasn’t looking at him. “Harry, I didn’t have a single regret…but your dad and Dumbledore…well, they seem so convinced that Sirius—and maybe even Voldemort—had some control over you.” She swallowed. “It’s just a big disconcerting to think that it wasn’t entirely you with me.”

Harry struggled to keep his voice even. “Even if Sirius was trying to contact me somehow, I was still me.”

Ginny turned to face Harry. “But you weren’t you, Harry. I know it must be hard for you to understand, but you were so different that it’s hard to believe you were solely in control of your actions.” She gestured around the room. “Don’t you see? That’s why McGonagall gave you this ‘detention’. Even she doesn’t believe you were yourself.”

Harry closed his eyes. “I won’t pretend I was feeling off, Gin, but I wasn’t possessed by either of them. I am starting to realize that’s what all of you think. But I remember everything that happened in the tower that night.” He took her hands. “I remember wanting to be as close as possible to you, and I remember promising myself that we wouldn’t do anything more than you were ready to do.”

Ginny’s cheeks warmed with a hot flush. Harry smiled slowly, enjoying the way the blush darkened her eyes. “If I was being controlled by one of them, would I have wanted to protect you?” He brought his fingers up to her cheeks; they were warm to his touch.

“Not if Voldemort was controlling you, no.” Ginny shook her head. “And Sirius…well, I don’t know him very well, but I always imagined him having a more unrestrained attitude toward sex.”

Harry smiled; he’d always had the same notion. Ginny’s brow wrinkled. She brushed her fingers lightly above Harry’s ear. “It was me,” he said quietly. “Pomfrey and my dad said that part of me was missing. That’s how I felt; like I wasn’t whole. But I was still me.”

Harry was very conscious of the other people in the room; it was the only reason he didn’t kiss Ginny right there. She was finally smiling at him. He settled for hugging her. It might have been better than kissing her would have been; her body felt nice against his, and he was almost convinced that there was something of a healer inside Ginny.

His tension never failed to ease when she touched him; his storm always found calm when he was near her. As though it had been actively seeking for the peace she afforded him. Even now, his anxiety about his next meeting with his dad was soothed. As though she somehow understood, without words, that he was hurting. And she was promising him that everything would be okay. It felt like cool, healing waters were finding his deepest holes and filling them in. He basked in the feeling.

--

Severus looked up as the door opened. Remus gave him a smile from the other side as Harry stepped in, looking even more tired than when he’d left. Harry said a brief farewell to Remus before letting the door close. Severus waited anxiously for Harry to cross the room without so much as a look. But Harry turned purposefully toward his father.

His eyes locked with Severus’, and without a word, Harry crossed the few steps to where Severus was standing near the Floo, wrapped his arms around Severus and gave him a mighty squeeze.

Severus, startled at the sudden hug, took a few seconds to bring his arms up. “Are you all right?” he asked, his worry making his arms tighten briefly. Harry shrugged.

“Just realized that you probably need even more hugs than I do.” The words were muffled against Severus’ shoulder. Severus paused before tentatively bringing his hand to rest against the back of Harry’s head. He hadn’t expected Harry to return from his detention feeling anything other than the same discomfort he’d displayed since before dinner.

Severus’ chest was still constricted, making it hard to breathe, but perhaps now it had something to do with how tightly Harry was holding him. He closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to relax in Harry’s wild black mop.

“And what, pray tell, led you to this rather drastic conclusion?” he asked, with a slight lilting cadence. Harry grinned at the easing of tension in his father’s voice.

And he couldn’t help teasing, “Remus mentioned you were out of practice.”

Severus scowled. “Remus has a dangerous habit of talking too much,” he said darkly, but Harry only chuckled.

“He does that,” he agreed, giving his father one more squeeze before pulling away. “But he did think you had a pretty good idea in wanting to take me away from Hogwarts for awhile.” Surprise sparked in Severus’ eyes, though Harry didn’t miss the reservation still lingering in his father’s face.

“And what do you think of the idea?”

Harry fiddled with the zip of his jacket, while he glanced up at his father through his fringe. “I’ve never had a holiday, and…I’ve always wanted one…where—where will we go?”

Severus hesitated only the barest fraction before brushing Harry’s fringe aside so that his green eyes were clearly visible; they were filled with a hopeful eagerness that pierced Severus through the heart. “We will go where ever you wish to go.”

1967

Severus’ head spun sharply with the crack of his father’s backhand. The familiar, coppery taste filled his mouth, and the second blow ignited the sting of the first, but he managed not to cry out again. Father detested childish whinging when he was administering Severus’ ‘much-needed’ discipline. And Severus knew, at seven, he was much too old for such shameful behavior; he must remain stoic.

“You selfish boy. Have you no care for anyone else?” Tobias demanded. “Tilla had to interrupt an extremely important dinner. And to find you wandering near this disgusting Muggle harbor…” His lips lifted disdainfully in a sneer as his black eyes raked over Severus’ sodden clothes. “Haven’t you any pride?” he demanded.

“I apologize, Father,” Severus said in a small voice. He hadn’t meant to wander this way, and he hadn’t meant to fall into the water…but it had gotten dark much quicker than he’d… He gasped involuntary as Father’s fingers grabbed his chin and squeezed. It was much more painful than the smacks had been.

“I asked you a question, Severus,” Tobias said, his voice low and dangerous now. “You are a Snape. Have you forgotten it?”

“No, sir,” Severus whispered.

“See that you do not.” Tobias’ fingers indented Severus’ tender skin further to emphasize his point, until tears sprung up in Severus’ eyes. Tobias released him with a disgusted flick of his wrist, pushing Severus’ face away from his gaze. “You are no credit to your name.”

Severus said nothing as the shame shriveled him; he bit the inside of his cheek to make the rest of the pooling tears go away. Father made a small sound of annoyance as he yanked Severus’ tiny bicep and without warning, they were whirling away from the rocky shoal.

They reappeared right outside the door to Snape Manor; Tobias gave Severus a firm push between the shoulder blades which sent him stumbling over the threshold. Tilla followed behind. Severus only got a brief glimpse of the grand dining hall as Tobias grabbed his arm again and marched him into the study at the end of the long corridor. He could hear Lucius’ father’s deep voice.

“…a disgrace, Eileen.”

“Having such a weak son will certainly not be an asset,” his wife agreed in a high drawl.

“Do you see how you have shamed us?” Tobias hissed. Severus was spun around to face his enraged father once more. Severus did his best not to cringe, but it didn’t matter. Father was justifiably furious, now that Severus had made him lose Mr. Malfoy’s respect.

With another loud crack against his cheek, Severus was sent staggering across the room; he collided with the razor sharp edge of his father’s desk. He cried out as the corner speared his side, even though he knew he shouldn’t; he could feel the corner breaking the skin. He gripped the armrest of one of the heavy oak chairs to steady himself. Father glared at him.

“You will be punished severely as soon as our guests leave. Both for inconveniencing your mother and me, and for bringing shame on our family’s name.”

Severus’ hands began to tremble at the pronouncement, though he knew he deserved it. He had been stupid to think only of himself when he’d gone wandering earlier…and he shouldn’t have let his anger run so far amuck that he’d actually tried to run away…

“Control yourself, Severus,” Tobias snarled.

Severus stilled his grappling fingers as he struggled to calm his erratic flames. He slowly unfolded himself so that he was standing straight again. “I apologize for my lapse, sir.” His voice was not smooth enough to take the scowl off his father’s face.

“Your mother and I are beginning to wonder if I am wasting my time teaching you Occlumency.” Father’s voice was soaked in disappointment. Severus swallowed down the lump in his throat, as he stoked his flames to cover his disgraceful slip. Tobias narrowed his eyes and then with a swift and practiced movement, he had removed the red dragon’s hide strap from its place of honor on the wall and thrust it into Severus’ hands. “Perhaps this will give you some incentive to learn control.”

“Yes, sir,” Severus whispered as he tore his eyes from the polished leather. Tobias said nothing as he pivoted away and swept from the room.

It would be two hours before he returned to fulfill his promise. Severus spent the intervening time staring alternately between the pretty ruby strap and his great-grandfather’s enchanted clock.

--

1996

Harry frowned as the mirror mocked him; it should have been a fairly simple matter to tie the flimsy strip of fabric. He’d managed it the night of the banquet, with a fantastic bit of luck, using a spell Ron had taught him their fourth year. On the first try. This time, however, the tie wouldn’t cooperate; his pounding headache probably wasn’t helping. He groaned after his fifth failed attempt.

With a sigh, Harry set his wand down and with his face screwed up in concentration, he tried to picture the way he’d seen Vernon helping Dudley so many times. “Damn,” he muttered to his traitorous reflection.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up; his father was standing in the doorway, looking rather regal in his best dress robes—with a perfectly knotted tie. Harry flicked the ends of his own tie with exasperation. Severus stepped into the room, his eyes taking in his son’s frustration and the disheveled state of his tie.

“May I?” he inquired.

“If you…wouldn’t mind,” Harry answered uncertainly.

“Not at all.”

Severus moved to stand behind Harry. Harry watched his father’s reflection in the long mirror as Severus reached over Harry’s shoulders and with deft movements, eased the two ends into a perfect knot. He held Harry’s reflected gaze with his eyes the entire time, and Harry nodded along with his murmured instructions. When he was finished, Severus trained his gaze on the tie and tugged the ends a little to straighten them.

“Vernon used to do this for Dudley.”

Severus paused, and Harry waited nervously, but even though his father’s jaw flexed with obvious discomfort, Severus simply let go of the tie and rested his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “He should have done so with you as well.” His fingers squeezed as Harry nodded a little. “You need not be anxious about asking me to help you. It pleases me to do so.”

Harry felt his nervous shoulders relaxing. He had done it! He’d actually brought up a thoroughly uncomfortable topic and his father, in return, hadn’t had palpitations over it. Actually, Harry mused, as he scrutinized his father’s reflection once more, he probably had. His jaw still looked strained. Harry smiled at him.

“Thanks for showing me. Ron taught me a spell, but my wrist flick is a bit off, I think.”

One of Severus’ hands moved up to rest on the top of Harry’s head; his mouth had relaxed. “It was no trouble at all. I will practice the spell with you, if you wish, but the non-magical method works almost as quickly.”

“Do you know a spell to make stubborn hair stay flat?” Harry asked as he eyed his wild mop critically. Severus’ lips quirked a little.

“Not when the owner is equally as stubborn,” he said lightly as he purposely mussed his son’s hair even more before reclaiming his hand. Harry scowled at him.

“Thanks loads,” he muttered. He ran his fingers over his hair as he tried to flatten it. He fiddled with his fringe for a moment; that never seemed to stay put either. As he did, he absently ran his thumb over his scar. Severus was watching him. “My scar’s faded…quite a bit.” Severus raised his eyebrow and smiling a little, Harry pushed his fringe aside; his father narrowed his eyes as he studied it. He reached his thumb out to trace the jagged bolt, just as Harry had.

“I had not expected it to fade so swiftly…it is only a few shades darker than your skin now,” Severus mused.

Harry nodded and moved his hand; his fringe flopped back into place. Severus was frowning. “It’s not important though, is it?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling concerned at his father’s negative response. Severus shook his head.

“Likely not,” he answered as he turned to retrieve Harry’s dark green dress robes from the bureau. Harry’s eyes widened as his father reached up to pluck the robes from their peg; his sleeve had slumped away from his wrist. Severus’ left forearm was exposed.

“What happened?”

Severus’ head turned toward Harry, both eyebrows raised in question this time. When he saw where Harry was looking, he pulled his arm down; his other set of fingers wound around the space where the Dark Mark should have been.

“You cast a glamour to hide it?” Harry asked him, his brow wrinkling. “Why?”

Severus’ lips were pressed firmly together, his eyes straying to his forearm. “It is gone,” he said, very quietly.

“Gone? Where did it go?”

Harry didn’t have a chance to be chagrined at the stupid question, because his father moved his fingers and brought is arm closer to Harry. “It simply disappeared.”

The pads of Harry’s fingers trailed over the pale skin before he glanced up at his father again. “Because Voldemort’s gone?” he asked.

“It had not faded even a little after we defeated Voldemort,” Severus said, shaking his head. He paused, and Harry could feel his discomfort. “After we learned that Lupin’s blood was freed of the dark agent that had made him a werewolf, I wondered if perhaps the same would apply to the Mark. I checked after you fell asleep. There is no trace of any of the dark magic.”

“But that’s brilliant…isn’t it?” Harry was looking at his father uncertainly. Severus seemed to consider it.

“I believe I was attempting to process that it actually was gone,” Severus admitted; his fingers had found their way back to the unblemished skin. “It was a part of me for more years than not…”

Harry nodded slowly. “And it takes time to get used to…rather like Remus’ news.”

Severus frowned in thought. “I admit when I first discovered it had disappeared, I felt a measure of grief. Your mother’s magic was imbedded in the Mark,” he explained though Harry had no trouble understanding. “Odd as it may sound, I felt less alone, knowing I was carrying her magic with me.” He smiled faintly as he took in the look of sympathy on Harry’s face. “Of course,” he said softly, “there is no longer any need for such a reminder that I am no longer alone.”

Harry smiled slowly as the words sunk in; the unexpected sentiment warmed him. He was still smiling as his father handed his robe over. Harry flipped it over his shoulders and fastened the clasp.

“There,” he said with a sigh of relief. He was tired of fussing with his clothes.

Severus’ features were suffused with warmth as he made a spinning motion with his finger. Harry obeyed with a small sigh, turning back to face the mirror. Severus arranged the soft robes in a more orderly fashion over his shoulders and then ran his fingers expertly down the folds to re-crisp the creases.

Harry ran his hands over the fabric. He actually didn’t look too bad. The dark green, the only other color besides black that his father seemed to approve of, made his eyes seem even brighter. Wonder if Ginny will like it? he mused silently as he examined his reflection. Ginny’s always saying how much she likes my eyes…

His father was watching him; he looked amused. Harry flushed and turned hastily away from the mirror. “So,” he asked casually, being careful not to adjust the robes anymore, “it was the same thing that happened to Remus…the Veil affecting the dark magic somehow?”

Severus’ face turned serious at the question; his eyes flicked to Harry’s fringe briefly, where his scar was hidden. “It would seem so.”

Harry hadn’t missed his father’s glance. “And you think it has something to do with my scar fading so quickly?” His face scrunched up with his confusion. “How is that possible though? I wasn’t even really there…my body anyway.”

“Your scar may simply have faded after Voldemort was completely destroyed.” He narrowed his eyes in thought even as he said it. “How is your hand?” he queried, his black eyes training on Harry’s hands. Harry shook his head though.

“They don’t hurt nearly as much as they did yesterday.”

“I was referring to the scar from Umbridge’s blood quill.”

“Oh…” Harry brought his hand up. Not paying much attention to the bruises, which still did hurt more than he would have liked, Harry swiftly unwound the healing strip of fabric. He winced as it came undone. And then he stared critically at the words Umbridge had forced into his flesh. He squinted down at the blurry, faded letters; squinting made the blood pound faster through his veins. “They don’t seem as pronounced…do they?”

He slid his thumb and forefinger under his glasses and rubbed at his eyes tiredly while his father took his hand to give it a closer inspection.

Severus ran his thumb slowly over the barely visible words, gauging the tactile difference he could easily detect from the last time he’d touched them; the vicious anger he felt toward the bitch who’d done this had lessened not at all, however.

“It is just as light as Voldemort’s scar,” he finally answered his son. “Do you have another headache?” he asked in concern as he looked up; Harry was massaging his eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry answered unconcernedly as he dropped his fingers. Severus frowned.

“You do realize my lab is fully stocked with Headache Potion,” he said seriously, wondering, not for the first time, how long it would take for Harry to understand that he was allowed to ask for such things. For anything actually.

Harry shrugged, and Severus could plainly see he was attempting to act as though his headache was of little importance. Severus ignored his own discomfort to say, “Harry, it is perfectly acceptable for you to ask me for anything you might need…even for something you simply want.”

For a brief moment, Harry looked completely confused, as though such an idea had never occurred to him. “I…yeah…I know,” he finally managed to answer. He smiled sheepishly at Severus’ skeptical look. But he still said, “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Severus squelched the urge to sigh. “You are not a bother. You are, however,” he said seriously as he gave Harry a light nudge toward the door, “having an alarming number of headaches. This is your third since we returned from the Veil.” He studied Harry’s face as they walked. “Have you been sleeping in a different position?”

“My neck was a bit stiff when I woke up yesterday afternoon. From the sofa,” he explained. “But last night, I slept the same as always.”

“Have you any other scars?”

Harry paused as he crossed into the sitting room. “Other scars?” he asked, bewildered at the odd change in topic. “A few I suppose, from scrapes when I was a kid.”

“Perhaps your headaches have something to do with the reduction of your scar. Your hands are sore as well.”

Harry was staring at him as though he was daft. “I punched a wall,” he reminded his father. Severus’ lips twitched.

“I remember,” he drawled, but then his face grew serious again. “If there is a connection, the pain from your injuries could be masking any other pain.” He continued on before Harry could answer, “I have several scars, all of which have faded considerably, or completely disappeared,” Severus explained. One of his hands was pressed absently into his side. “I just noticed another had vanished this morning.” He had a faraway look in his eyes.

“Was it from some sort of dark curse?” Harry asked worriedly.

But Severus shook his head; he looked strangely uncomfortable. “There was no dark magic involved…I stumbled into the corner of my father’s desk when I was seven.”

Something about the way his father said that gave Harry pause, but all he could think to say was, “Oh…” He rubbed his fingers absently over the words embedded forever into his skin. “But that makes even less sense than the Veil somehow removing dark magic,” he said slowly. Severus nodded as he stepped past him to retrieve a Headache Potion. Harry downed it quickly, and then shook his head. “Why would random scars be fading?”

“I do not know. And as I have no desire to visit that particular room in the Ministry of Magic again, we are not likely to ever discover the Veil’s secrets.”

Completely unsatisfied with that answer, Harry sighed. “I have a bit of a scar on my shoulder where I scraped it in that tunnel third…oh, erm…” Harry bit his lip; he hadn’t meant to say as much, and not only because he wasn’t feeling quite ready to discuss the past.

“Tunnel?”

Harry, uncertain how to proceed, nodded awkwardly. It wasn’t that he thought his father would be angry about it, but it seemed wrong somehow to be admitting what he’d done. “Erm, yeah…that’s sort of how I got to Hogsmeade…that Saturday during third year, when you, er…found me.”

Severus’ eyebrows swept upward. “You accessed Honeydukes through a tunnel?”

“Er…yeah?” Harry answered through his cringe. Severus narrowed his eyes; Harry could practically see his brain running through calculations.

“And just how many other students know about this tunnel?”

“Current students?” Severus arched his eyebrow at the deliberate evasion. “Well…probably only Ron and Hermione…though Ginny might know…” Harry sighed as his father continued to stare at him, and before he knew how his father had managed it, Harry was spilling the entire story of the Marauder’s Map. When he finished speaking, Severus slowly closed his eyes, looking as though he was nursing his own headache now.

When he finally spoke again, he sounded a bit hoarse. “I could strangle James.” Harry opened his mouth to wonder about that statement, but Severus went right on, “To think of all the times you put yourself in danger…and with that damn cloak to aid you.” He shook his head as if he was trying to make all the old dangers go away, before opening his eyes.

“I wasn’t really in any danger that time, though. Sirius wasn’t really…I mean he’s not really...” Harry shrugged, not feeling much like talking about Sirius; they hadn’t mentioned him once since right before dinner last night.

Severus very much wanted to demand exactly how many other times Harry had used the map and cloak, but Harry was looking decidedly forlorn at the mention of Black. And though every one of his instincts fought against it, Severus asked, “Would you like to see Black before we leave this evening?”

Harry pressed his thumb into his bottom lip as he gazed at the glowing coals in the fireplace grate. “I…I don’t know.”

Severus drew a breath as he made a decision. “His name was cleared, with Albus’ help. He did not have a chance to tell you yesterday.” Harry’s eyes shot up.

“He was?” Harry’s voice was wavering slightly. And though Severus would have assumed it was impossible, he began to hate Black even more.

“Harry, Lupin told me that Black is planning on rejoining the Auror program, as soon as he is able.” Harry’s mouth flopped open.

“What?” he strangled out after a moment of stunned silence. Harry was visibly struggling to process the news. “When did he decide that? Was he even going to tell me?” he asked, and Severus could see he was trying to keep his voice even.

Severus shook his head regretfully. “I do not know. Lupin said he did not think you would wish to see him-”

“What did he think? That I was going to simply go on about my life, without a single care for his plans? How can he be so selfish? I’m his godson! When the hell did I start to mean so little to him?”

“Harry,” Severus said, a little louder than was necessary. Harry cut off his rant, stilling his balling fingers. “I am certain you mean no less to him than you ever have; he believes that you do not wish to see him.” Severus was beginning to feel mildly ill as he reassured his son of Black’s affection.

Harry scowled, though not at Severus in particular. “Well, I don’t. Not if he’s going to be such a berk.” As soon as he said it, Harry made a face and sat heavily on the sofa. “Well that’s probably why he thinks I don’t want to see him.”

“Because he is a berk?” Severus queried with confusion. Harry smiled briefly; it faded faster than it had come.

“I told him to go hell…after I blamed him for not taking me from the Dursleys.” Harry slumped down into the cushion, wrinkling his freshly pressed robes. Severus gazed at him, feeling deflated and more tired than he had in years.

“As much as it pains me to exonerate Black from anything, he is not to blame.” he said quietly. “He had no idea that the Dursleys would treat you in such a deplorable manner.”

“I know…” Harry looked up; his green eyes were filled with despair. “Why is he leaving?”

Severus ignored his raging, clawing jealousy as he sat next to his grief-stricken son; he put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and tugged Harry to him.

“Harry, he loves you, just as surely as he always has.” Harry let out a strange, sorrowful sound, and Severus had to swallow before he could speak past his parched throat. “He should not have brought them up to you, but he was right to have concerns about my motives. But right now, he probably believes that you do not need him any longer.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered as he leaned his head against Severus’ shoulder. “I know I shouldn’t care, and I know I don’t need him, now that I have you, but I just wish-”

“He is your godfather, and you love him,” Severus interrupted, winding his fingers protectively through Harry’s hair as he spoke. “I do understand this, and I will not allow you to apologize for it.” Severus held Harry tighter. “It changes nothing between us. Do you understand me?” he asked quietly. He waited until Harry nodded against his shoulder. “Not even if you love the mutt just as fiercely as you always have.”

Harry made a noise that could have been a chuckle, if it hadn’t sounded so morose. “I can’t help it.”

Severus smoothed the pads of his fingers over Harry’s scalp a few times. “I know.” Harry relaxed a little into his father’s side, and then they simply sat together in a comfortable silence.

--

“You can’t just leave without telling Harry.”

Sirius didn’t look up from the shirt he was folding; all of his things were just as he’d left them. “The note explains everything,” he said, trying to mask the pain he was feeling so sharply. Remus tapped the top of his satchel pointedly with the rolled up piece of parchment that Sirius has just given him.

“A note?” he echoed with a frown. “Harry’s worshipped you practically since the day he met you, and all you’re going to leave him with is a note?” His voice was heavy with disappointment. Sirius finally looked up.

“I won’t be gone forever, Remus. He won’t want to see me right now anyway.”

“Sirius, I can guarantee if you leave without seeing Harry, you’ll make things even worse than they already are, and it’s quite possible that he will never forgive you for it.”

Sirius flinched. “You said yourself that I’d be lucky if Snape…allows me see him.” He looked like he’d just swallowed his tongue.

Remus sat down heavily on the bed; he leaned his elbows on his knees, his brown eyes very grave; Sirius looked away. “Severus has been known to be reasonable on occasion,” Remus said lightly. “And if Harry wants to see you, Severus will probably even encourage it.”

Sirius said nothing as he placed the shirt neatly on top of the rest of the pile, since Remus was unlikely to crack a grin if insulted his newfound friend.

“Why don’t you come with me to the Ministry?” Remus pressed. “You can see Harry before he and Severus leave.”

“And if he doesn’t want to see me, Remus?”

“He might want to shout at you a bit, but I doubt he’ll refuse to see you.” Remus was smiling now, looking mightily amused at the idea of Harry shouting at Sirius. Sirius didn’t even bother frowning at Remus’ inappropriate amusement; he knew it deserved it.

--

As soon as Lucius’ advocate was finally satisfied that Harry understood exactly ‘how much is at stake for the Malfoys, as well as the entirety of the wizarding world’, she pulled open her office door with a small flourish. “I am authorized, of course, Harry, to thank you on behalf of Lucius and his wife. You truly are everything Rufus has professed you to be,” she said warmly. She’d said it at least three times already, but Harry smiled politely anyway. Dawn paused only long enough to return the smile before she turned her brilliant smile on Severus. “And of course, your assistance is greatly appreciated,” she said sweetly, laying her fingers against his wrist.

Severus nodded as he brought his arm back to his side and away from her clinging touch. Dawn’s smile only faltered briefly. “My assistant will show you where to wait,” she said, that old laugh back in her voice, undeterred by Severus’ reservation. Dawn didn’t wait for either Harry or Severus to respond, her mind apparently racing back to something else. “Holly!” she called. Holly, a fierce looking brown-haired witch, appeared from behind a closed door.She directed Harry and Severus, without speaking, back to the atrium where they’d entered.

“She fancies you,” Harry said when Holly had trundled back to her office. Severus frowned.

“She fancies what she perceives as power. She would act with the same foolishness toward Hagrid if she thought he was your father.”

Harry pursed his lips, but said nothing. Severus studied the uneasy expression on his son’s face, and then covering his faint amusement, he assured him, “I have no interest in Miss Ridley.”

“Good,” Harry said seriously; his shoulders relaxed a bit. “She seems a little, well…mental actually. She talks about Malfoy as if he’s some sort of king.” In truth, the tall, blonde witch had made him more than a little uncomfortable, and not only because she seemed intent on touching his father whenever possible.

“The Malfoys have an obscene amount of power within the Ministry,” Severus told him. “Scrimgeour is the first minister I have known who has not been eager to cater to their whims.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. They’d spoken about Malfoy more than once now, and Harry’s desire to return a debt that Severus insisted he did not owe. And he’d made Harry feel mildly ill when he’d said pointedly, “Lucius Malfoy would make the same choices if he had the opportunity to do so again. He has not changed.”

And Harry had wavered—more than once, but he couldn’t not try to help Lucius. Lucius had saved his father. Harry simply tried not to think about anything else; the attempt wasn’t working.

“Ah, Harry, so glad you could make it.”

Harry and Severus turned. Scrimgeour, with his eclectic party in tow, was sweeping toward them. Harry tried to turn his grimace into a smile. The Minister seemed to care little for Harry’s facial expressions. He smiled and extended his hand. Harry took it gingerly, and had to blink several times when the ever-present photographer flashed several pictures.

“You’ve spoken to Miss Ridley?” Scrimgeour asked while Harry was still blinking. “And you feel prepared to speak on Lucius’ behalf?” he queried when Harry nodded. “He and his family are counting on your support, I’m sure you realize.”

Severus was frowning at him. “Lucius has garnered the support of the Ministry?”

Scrimgeour looked uncomfortable for the first time. “The Malfoys have always given support to the Ministry, when the situation has called for it,” was his vague reply. He turned back to Harry. “I was pleased to sign the paperwork, exonerating you godfather, Harry. Mr. Black was most grateful for our hasty response.” His tone hinted that Harry should be at least as grateful.

“He’d probably be more grateful if he hadn’t been imprisoned in the first place, for something he didn’t even do,” Harry said stiffly, unable to thank the supercilious man, with his forced smile and pressing hostility.

“Yes,” Scrimgeour said sadly, “that was a terrible tragedy. One which I am certain those responsible deeply regret.”

Harry nodded along. “But you are responsible for asking Remus Lupin to leave Hogwarts, aren’t you?” he asked innocently.

Scrimgeour’s pasted smile widened into a condescending smirk. “I am afraid, Harry, that that particular situation is quite complicated, and it is one that I am afraid you might be too young to understand.”

“I believe Harry is old enough to understand your prejudices, Minister,” Severus interjected smoothly.

Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes, his smile completely gone now. “Lupin is a werewolf. He could be a danger to the children.”

“You didn’t seem to have any qualms about that particular issue while we were in the midst of a war,” Severus returned.

“I gave no protest as a favor to Albus,” Scrimgeour said coldly.

“Perhaps you should think about withdrawing your protest again, as a favor to Harry. I am certain you wish him to have no reason to renounce his support of Lucius, as it seems there has been something of a shift in your own attitude toward the Malfoys.”

Harry could almost see Scrimgeour’s teeth grinding together behind his tightly-pressed lips. But all he did was snap, “Weasley,” without even turning around. Percy, looking suddenly frazzled, nodded and began scribbling furiously on the topmost parchment in his pile. As soon as he’d finished, he handed it and his quill to the Minister. Scrimgeour signed the piece of parchment without even looking at it, still glaring at Severus.

Before Percy could roll it, Severus slipped it from his fingers blithely. He nodded in satisfaction once he’d read it, rolled it himself and slipped it into his pocket.

“But, Professor,” Percy objected, “a Ministry owl always delivers official documents.”

Severus glanced once more at the Minister. “I think the Minister would prefer such an important missive to be delivered personally. We would not want it to be lost en route, after all, would we, Minister?”

Scrimgeour’s eyes were burning with fury, but he shook his head. “No.” The word all but exploded from his lips.

“Excellent,” Severus drawled. “Thank you for your assistance, Minister. Harry and I appreciate it.” Scrimgeour looked like he would rather down an entire vial of Puking Potion than be where he was at the moment.

“Anything I can do for Harry.” Harry smiled; the Minister was beginning to look a little green. “If you will excuse us, I need to ensure everything is in order before we begin,” he only just managed to say, and then after an exaggeratedly polite nod from Severus, Scrimgeour and his entourage hurried away down the corridor.

“Remus is going have a fit,” Harry said seriously as he and Severus watched Percy, trying to balance his stack of papers and keep up with Scrimgeour’s hasty exit.

“What about?” a curious voice asked.

Harry grinned as he turned around. Remus, accompanied by Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, were being shown in by the harried wizard who’d shown Harry and Severus in here when they’d first arrived. Pomfrey and Dumbledore were just behind them. Before Harry could answer, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with the rest of their children—except Charlie, trooped in. Mr. Weasley exchanged a few words with the harried wizard, who smiled gratefully and left almost as swiftly as Scrimgeour had.

The next few minutes were spent in greeting and congratulations. When Mrs. Weasley finally stopped fussing over Harry’s latest ordeal, Remus turned back to Harry. “Well then Harry? What exactly have you done that I’m to have a fit over?” he asked with a smile.

“This is not the time,” Severus said quickly, before Harry could even think of a reply. Remus looked between the two of them, his eyebrows raised, but he nodded. He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder though, probably to reassure Harry that it would be all right, no matter what he’d supposedly done to upset him. Harry hoped that it actually would be all right, once Remus found out that Severus had forced the Minister to overturn his original decree.

“Harry dear, are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go through with this?” Mrs. Weasley asked nervously.

“Molly, if he wasn’t, I’m sure Severus wouldn’t have allowed him to come,” Mr. Weasley assured her, smiling at Severus while patting Molly’s arm soothingly. Mrs. Weasley nodded but still she peered at Harry, looking unconvinced.

“Yes, yes, thank you… Yes it was a very harrowing few years…”

Harry spun around again. They door was open again, and standing just outside of it, surrounded by a cluster of fawning young witches, was Sirius. Several were waving copies of this morning’s Daily Prophet toward him, obviously hoping for an autograph. Sirius was signing one even as he backed into the room.

“I do apologize ladies,” he said sincerely as he handed the newspaper back to a raven-haired witch, who looked almost delirious with happiness as she pressed it to her chest. Sirius smiled around at the women once more as he slipped past the door and closed it swiftly before any of the excited witches could follow.

With a deep sigh, he ran a hand through his hair before turning around. His eyes widened; he had obviously not been expecting to find a crowd in the room. His eyes were searching though, and as soon as he found Harry, he drew in an anxious breath.

Harry stared at him. He looked so different, that it was honestly hard to match him to the man he’d only known as a fugitive. His hair was neatly trimmed, and there was not a trace of scruff on his chin. His face had lost all its shadows; he looked young somehow, just like he had in the pictures with the first Order of the Phoenix.

The twins, having no idea about any of the tensions gripping the room, grinned at him. “So, it’s true then, Sirius?” George asked excitedly. “You’re a free man?”

Sirius nodded, smiling only enough so that no one else would suspect that he wasn’t completely happy. “The Prophet got it right for once.”

“Not exactly right,” Fred said with a laugh. “They left out the part where you visited the land of the dead.”

Sirius shrugged. “Close enough.” His eyes went back to Harry, even as he answered.

“When are you leaving?” Harry asked into the following silence, unable to stop himself; he could feel his anger rising again. Sirius looked startled.

“Where are you going?” Bill asked curiously.

“The Minister has asked Sirius to resume his position as an Auror,” Dumbledore answered, smiling easily. “As soon as he feels he’s ready to begin, he’ll rejoin the training program.”

“Training program?” Harry repeated, remembering that Tonks had once told him about that. “You’ll be gone for months then.” The statement might as well have been another indictment for Sirius—one he deserved this time.

“I…” Sirius’ chest deflated as he watched Severus put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. And with Remus flanking Harry on the other side, the rest of what Sirius wanted to say seemed unimportant.

“Perhaps the two of you will have some time to speak after the trial,” Dumbledore said, giving Sirius a smile. Harry wanted to refuse, to tell Sirius that if he was going to leave, then to just go already. But every pair of eyes in the room was on him, and Sirius looked absolutely miserable, so he simply nodded. Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. “I do believe they are ready for us,” he announced, indicating the door opposite. It was standing open, framing Lucius’ winsome advocate.

“How delightful, that so many of your friends are here to support you, Harry.” Her blue eyes inspected Remus, Sirius, and Bill. Dumbledore happily took over the introductions.

“This is Dawn Ridley, Lucius’ advocate. And you know Arthur Weasley, and his wife Molly.” He gestured around at the five red-heads. “These are there children, and Hermione Granger, a student at Hogwarts. And on Harry’s left is his dear friend, Remus Lupin and standing directly in front of you is Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather.”

Dawn gave all of them, especially Remus, only a fleeting glance before she zeroed in on Sirius. “Harry’s godfather! We were very happy to hear the news this morning,” she said as she thrust a hand enthusiastically at Sirius. “And Lucius and Narcissa were, of course, very pleased indeed.”

Sirius’ face had gone from an inviting smile, to a scowl in a matter of seconds. “I doubt that very much,” he said stiffly as he withdrew his hand. “Narcissa hates me almost as much as her sister does.”

Dawn looked appalled. “Well, surely you mustn’t really believe that. You’re family, after all.” She looked around at Harry awkwardly. “And I was hoping to speak with your godson about Narcissa’s sister and her husband. Narcissa had hoped that Harry might be willing to speak on her behalf, as well.”

“No.”

Sirius’ and Severus’ deep voices collided on the solid word.

Dawn looked confusedly between them. Sirius cleared his throat and looked away from Severus, where his eyes had inadvertently traveled. Severus, who had paid no attention to Sirius’ answer, or to Sirius at all, stepped in front of Harry; Harry was staring in horror at Dawn.

“Neither Lucius nor Narcissa are in any position to be asking anything of Harry. If either one of them suggests it again, Harry will not be staying long enough to say anything on anyone’s behalf,” Severus said fiercely, making Dawn’s eyes widen at the heat in his voice.

“I…yes, of course,” she said faintly. “I only meant to make a suggestion. Of course Harry is already doing Lucius a great honor…”

“Perhaps we should be moving out into the other room now, Miss Ridley,” Dumbledore interrupted gently. Dawn looked completely flustered, and all she could do was nod, her hands waving vaguely toward the door.

The group was quiet as they walked through the corridor connecting the cavernous chambers beyond. Ginny had joined Harry, while Remus fell back to walk beside Sirius. Harry smiled at Ginny gratefully as she squeezed his hand when Harry’s eyes strayed back to Sirius. But he and Ginny had no chance to exchange words; clustered in a group, surrounded by armed Aurors, was a large group of Death Eaters.

Harry looked up, startled, when his father took his arm, and pulled him forward; Harry hadn’t even realized he’d stopped walking.

“The prisoners have a magical dampening field around them,” Dumbledore told them helpfully, not looking in the least perturbed about being in such close proximity to so many of Voldemort’s followers.

Severus, his lips pinched in a thin line, said nothing as they continued forward.

“Ha—Harry,” Wormtail, at the front of the group, was stuttering eagerly as soon as Severus and Harry were close enough, “please…if you—would—would only te—tell them how faith—faithful I was to your friend.”

Even as Harry was inching away, Severus tugged his arm, pulling him out of reach of the now-blubbering man’s reach. Harry could see Sirius being pulled rather sharply by Remus. “Pick up the pace, if you would, Albus,” Severus suggested tersely. Dumbledore’s reply was drowned out by a familiar, high-pitched screeching.

“Blood traitors! Filthy Murderers!” It was as though Bellatrix was simply picking up where she’d left off. And though Harry wouldn’t have liked to admit it to anyone, his heart seized with fear. Not of her, but of that night, when they’d stood exposed on the hill overlooking Riddle Manor. He shivered with the memory of the cold.

As if they understood exactly what Harry was thinking, Severus, Remus, and Sirius, who’d apparently forgotten Wormtail for the moment, moved to shield Harry from Bellatrix’s view, a protective phalanx against the memories. But still Bellatrix would not stop screaming. Severus began moving even more swiftly, and Harry almost fell over in his effort to keep up with his father’s long strides.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Pomfrey snapped, and with a wave of her wand, the screaming woman was silenced. Bellatrix began to claw at her own throat in her sudden fury. Harry grinned at the Mediwitch; she smiled.

“Where’s Malfoy?” Harry whispered once they were past the rest of the vocal group of Death Eaters; they were being ushered into benches in one of the front rows in the huge, crowded anteroom just beyond. The whispering and pointing began as soon as Harry was identified; he squished himself out of sight as much as he could between his father and Ginny.

Harry’s question was answered almost immediately. Lucius, looking perfectly well-fed and manicured, entered the room, flanked by his wife and Draco. Shacklebolt and Tonks followed closely behind. Harry saw Remus stiffen on the other side of Ginny when Tonks’ head moved purposely toward her one-time fiancé.

She looked more irritated than sad, and Harry glanced over at his friend. Remus’ hands were trembling in his lap, and for a second, Harry thought he was going to jump over the low riser in front of the benches and gather Tonks up, but other than his shaking fingers, he didn’t move at all. Tonks finally looked away; her lips were turned down in a firm scowl.

The Malfoys seated themselves primly in the row in front of Harry, right after Lucius and Narcissa had given Harry a warm greeting. Draco had followed suit, after a firm tap to his side with the head of Lucius’ cane. Harry had nodded, and murmured something that was meant to be intelligible, but hadn’t really been; he had only noticed Bavister Simon, from the banquet, then. Simon smiled at him, his eyes piercing him and making Harry even more nervous.

And then Scrimgeour, from his ostentatious podium, was clearing his throat. “Lucius Malfoy has been accused of having ties with He Who Must Not Be Named,” he began, sounding strained, and wasting no time with ceremony; Simon was nodding approvingly. “How do you wish to plead, Mr. Malfoy?”

Dawn was standing, even before Scrimgeour had finished speaking. “Before the proceeding continues, there is someone who wishes to speak on behalf of the accused,” she said, her voice now sounding sure and authoritative. Not one among the gathered Wizengamot stirred, though those in the audience began to murmur.

“…most irregular.”

“…speak on his behalf?”

Scrimgeour rapped his mallet against the podium. “The audience will be silent,” he ordered. He turned back to Dawn, his eyebrows raised as though he had no idea who she meant to call forth. Dawn smiled around the room.

“Harry, if you would come forward.” She beckoned to him.

The murmurs intensified as necks craned to see if indeed, Lucius Malfoy's advocate was speaking to the same Harry who was the savior of the wizarding world.

“…Harry?”

“…she can’t mean Harry Potter. The Harry Potter?”

“…Malfoy must be innocent.”

Simon smiled deliciously; Scrimgeour’s lips all but disappeared as he stared straight ahead.

“Harry?” Dawn pressed.

When Harry felt his father’s hand on his arm, he realized they were waiting for him. He sighed quietly and stood; Severus stood with him, just as they’d planned. It was the condition on which he’d agreed to allow Harry to do this.

Shacklebolt and Tonks detached themselves from the Malfoys to escort the Snapes silently to the middle of the cavernous room.

Harry sat in the indicated chair, with his father moving to stand behind him. Shacklebolt and Tonks stood to either side. Harry felt a bit like a prisoner, and he was more than a little uncomfortably reminded of his time here last summer.

Scrimgeour turned his full attention to Harry. “Welcome to the Wizengamot, Harry,” he said in his warmest voice. “We are very pleased to have the opportunity to have you in our midst.” The rest of the Wizengamot smiled and nodded along. Harry smiled as well as he could. “You have a statement you’d like to make, concerning Mr. Malfoy, Harry?” Scrimgeour sounded so kind and sincere, that Harry almost forgot who was speaking to him.

“Er…yeah,” Harry answered. “I mean…yes, sir.” His group of moral supporters was all smiling at him encouragingly. Even Sirius. Harry smiled a little, and he thought he could see Sirius relaxing a little.

“Yes, Harry…what would you like to say, my boy?”

“Oh.” Harry turned his eyes to Scrimgeour; he was gazing at him with enough fondness to make Harry want to sick up. “Well…I really just wanted to thank Mr. Malfoy for saving my father’s life.” This part was easy enough…and true enough.

“Your father? You mean, Severus Snape, I assume?” A tall wizard spoke up from behind Scrimgeour.

Harry nodded. That too was easy. “Yes, sir,” he answered.

“What did Lucius save your father from?” the wizard asked curiously. Or at least, he meant to sound curious; Harry was almost certain all of them knew exactly what Harry was going to say.

“From Voldemort, sir.” Harry ignored the gasps of horror. “My father was working as a spy against Voldemort, and when Voldemort found out that he was my father, he ordered his Death Eaters to…” Harry swallowed through the ache in his throat as Severus placed a hand on his shoulder. He kept it firmly in place as Harry continued, fighting his voice not to break, “They tortured him and then Voldemort…ordered them…to kill him.”

More gasps around the room. Noises of sympathy.

“And Lucius saved him?”

Harry wondered if the wizard’s questions sounded so rehearsed to everyone else. “Even though it was dangerous for him to do it,” Harry said with a nod. “He activated my father’s Portkey to send him back to Hogwarts…” Severus squeezed his shoulder; it was the only reason Harry was able to finish. “He was almost dead when he arrived…I thought he was at first.”

“…you poor thing.”

“…just look at him, Myra…he has tears in his eyes…”

Harry blinked, feeling very foolish and much too vulnerable. And he was grateful his father kept his hand right where it was.

“And Lucius was key to the destruction of You Know Who.” It wasn’t a question.

The hall went into an uproar.

“Er…” Dawn hadn’t prepared him for that question, at least not phrased in quite that way. But when Harry darted his eyes over to her, she simply smiled benignly at him. “I...he helped us with our plans, yes.”

“So, Lucius Malfoy was in fact, one of the reasons You Know Who no longer plagues our world?”

“Well…” Harry hedged as he attempted to figure out why he didn’t like these questions.

“I believe that Harry has said what he came here to say,” Severus intervened from behind his son. The tall wizard’s dark eyes swept upward.

“You are Severus Snape, are you not?” he asked suspiciously.

“I am,” Severus answered without hesitation, “and neither my son nor I, are on trial.”

The tall wizard gave him a long look. “Perhaps you should be. From what I understand, Professor, you yourself sport a Dark Mark. Your son…does he wear You Know Who’s Mark as well?”

And again, the hall went mad.

Harry stood up abruptly, making both Tonks and Shacklebolt move swiftly to adjust to his new position. But before he could attempt to argue through the din, Severus maneuvered himself between Harry and Tonks. “They will continue to manipulate your words,” he said low, into Harry’s ear.

“But you can’t just let them-”

“Harry, they care nothing for the truth. There is nothing you can do to change it.”

Scrimgeour was pounding his mallet, trying without much success to restore order, but the room seemed overcrowded now. And loud. And it was only growing louder.

The captive Death Eaters had begun shouting, both at Harry and Severus, and at the assembled members of the Wizengamot. The spectators were pushing against one another in their attempt to discover for themselves if Harry really did wear Voldemort’s brand. People were actually screeching, and then Harry realized that it wasn’t people.

It was Bellatrix.

Bellatrix was screaming, her voice hoarse with hatred as she writhed against the two Aurors who were attempting to hold her back, and Harry couldn’t remember when she’d come in. Her eyes were wild, her hair in a frazzled halo around her head. “The Dark Lord would never have given you such a gift, you filthy Mudblood! You killed him!” she screamed, her eyes hungering to avenge her master.

With a burst of light, the two Aurors were thrown viciously away from her. Bedlam erupted in the great hall. Death Eaters scrambled toward the spectators in a rush to get away from the other Aurors.

Harry didn’t see anything else as he twisted frantically toward his friends. Remus was vaulting over the benches and Wormtail was only a meter from Ginny. Harry felt his father’s rough hands gripping his arms and pulling him unwillingly toward him; he saw a wild mass of black flying toward them, even as he was pivoted away.

“Ginny!” he screamed, and then Harry and Severus were turned inside out as the whirl of apparition took them.

1996

Harry and Severus popped back into existence, with Harry’s mouth still open on his scream. As soon as he was aware that they were no longer at the Ministry, Harry flung himself away from Severus, but Severus held fast to his arms.

“Let me go! Ginny!” Harry protested as he struggled, his eyes glued to the Floo, fully intending to use it to get back to Ginny, but his father’s arms remained firm.

“Harry-”

“How could you do that?” Harry shouted furiously. “Ginny’s there and Pettigrew-” Harry’s voice was rasping with his fear and rising fury at his father for forcing him to abandon Ginny. “Damn it! I’ll never forgive you if-”

Severus’ fingers tightened, just shy of being painful, around Harry’s biceps; he pulled him closer. “Black has Ginny.” Each syllable was enunciated.

Harry stopped struggling instantly to stare at his father in confusion. There was a loud crack, and then Sirius, with his arms around Ginny, was standing right beside them.

“Ginny,” Harry breathed, the word exhaling in a rush of relief; his father released him abruptly and Harry stumbled a bit with the sudden loss of support. Severus steadied him by an impatient elbow as Ginny’s tightly scrunched eyes opened slowly. She breathed her own huge sigh of relief as soon as she saw Harry.

“Harry…”

Sirius dropped his arms and Harry hastily filled the now-empty space around her. Paying absolutely no attention to his father, or Sirius, or even to the cracks resounding all around them, Harry wrapped Ginny’s body to his as tightly as he could. Her fingers were shaking a little against his shoulder blades. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her frightened before; the sensation filled him with such a surge of protectiveness, he nearly snarled when he felt someone trying to tug Ginny away from them.

“Ginny…?”

He blinked as he realized it was Mrs. Weasley, and she looked very distraught. With a bit of a reluctant sigh, Harry dropped his arms and watched as Ginny was gathered up in a very blubbery embrace. Bill had his arm around Ron and was patting Ginny’s back as his mother squeezed. Pomfrey was saying something quietly to Hermione, and after a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, the Mediwitch turned on the spot and was gone; Ron took Hermione’s hand absently. George and Fred were standing near their mother.

“Sirius, thank you,” Bill was saying sincerely, his voice sounding thick; Mrs. Weasley nodded shakily, and by now, Ginny was struggling a little to pull away from her mother. Harry took her hand as soon as she was let go. Putting an arm around her waist, he pulled her into his side where she relaxed immediately. Harry turned to Sirius.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. Sirius glanced at Severus, looking rather nervous.

“Sna—your…” he cleared his throat, “…Snape cast a shield between Peter and Ginny,” he explained haltingly; his face was tinged with an unfamiliar reddish hue. Astonished, Harry turned to his father, but before he could speak, there was another loud crack and Remus, with a flailing Tonks in his arms, appeared near the hearth.

“…my job, Remus!” Tonks was saying fiercely. Before Remus could steady himself after his apparition, Tonks pushed herself sharply away, with more force than was actually necessary; Remus stumbled back. Tonks shook out her red robes, looking ferocious. “And don’t you dare try to follow me,” she snapped.

And then, on a punctuated crack, Tonks whirled and disappeared. And in such a short span of time, that Harry wasn’t sure she’d left at all, Tonks popped back again. She looked confused for moment before she rounded on Remus again.

“Damn it, Remus,” she spat, her hair raging toward a blood red. She glared at him for a moment, her fists clenched at her side, her jaw set firmly. Then she spun on her heel and stalked into the kitchen; the door slammed loudly behind her.

Their own brief, but harrowing last minutes forgotten, everyone else tried not to stare at Remus. Remus was staring at the kitchen door. His eyes narrowed and his face screwed into a scowl so fierce, Harry was actually a bit nervous, but then Remus slumped into one of the chairs, his features falling pitifully with his body. He dug his fingertips into his face, and then was still.

“Someone must have raised a shield,” Bill said, his arm finally disengaging from Ron. “And Dad is still there…and Percy…”

Mrs. Weasley, already pale, wavered a little, and Bill moved expertly to her side to guide her to one of the tattered chairs.

“Do you have something stiff, Sirius?” Bill asked quietly after he’d gotten his mother settled. Sirius looked briefly confused, as if he hadn’t realized this was his house, but then he nodded and slipped wordlessly into the kitchen. He came out a moment later, with a large, dusty bottle of firewhisky and some tumblers. He poured a measure first for Mrs. Weasley, which she put to her lips with shaking fingers. Bill took the tumbler Sirius offered him gratefully.

Sirius turned to Remus. “Moony?” he asked quietly. Remus shook his head wordlessly when Sirius offered him some of the whiskey.

Sirius turned back around, the half-full glass of amber liquid sloshing as he moved. His eyes moved between the tumbler and Severus, his fingers curled uncertainly around the glass. But before he could decide what to do, Severus turned to Harry.

“Harry, Ginny should sit down as well,” he directed. Harry dragged his eyes from Remus. I will speak to him, his father’s flame promised. Harry nodded, smiling a little. Thanks, his wisp returned as he pulled Ginny over to the sofa; she leaned against him as soon as they sat. Ron sat down as well, and Hermione sat next to him, her fingers tracing comforting circles on his back.

Severus stepped toward Remus, plucking the tumbler, which Sirius hadn’t quite managed to offer to him, from the other man’s hand. Sirius looked affronted for a half a second until Severus marched over and held it out to Remus. “Drink it,” he ordered. Remus didn’t move; his eyes were closed.

“How could I have told her it was over between us? I was an idiot…a stupid, blind, selfish idiot.”

“Yes,” Severus answered coldly, no trace of amusement in his voice. Harry was watching Sirius, who was staring between Remus and Severus with confusion. Remus opened his eyes, and flinched from the black gaze. But he took the tumbler, and downed its contents in one swallow; he cradled the empty glass into his chest.

“You and Tonks?” Sirius asked, his voice very quiet now. Remus turned to him, his face an odd mingling of regret and hesitancy.

“I asked her to marry me.”

Sirius spun the cap back into place on the bottle. He simply nodded, and Harry could sense immediately that he was hurt by the news—or rather that Remus had not told him, although Harry wasn’t certain that they’d had much time to chat properly, and he’d gleaned from his conversation last night with Remus, that he was pretty angry with Sirius over what had happened in the infirmary. Harry felt a pang for his godfather, and for all he had to adjust to.

“Have you any food here, Sirius?”

Everyone turned to Mrs. Weasley, who had handed her glass to Bill and was standing from the sofa. She waved away her son’s protest.

Sirius shook his head at Mrs. Weasley’s expectant look. “Poppy wanted to stock the kitchen last night…but, I hadn’t planned to be here very long,” he murmured; he wasn’t looking at anyone.

“Well, it’s a few hours yet until dinner. Perhaps I can do some cleaning for you, Sirius…do you plan to find a buyer for the house?”

“I…I haven’t given it much thought,” Sirius answered quietly.

Mrs. Weasley nodded crisply, while she rolled up her sleeves. She ushered Hermione, Ron, Bill, and the twins toward the kitchen, where perhaps she was hoping to find cleaning supplies. She gave Harry a little smile, telling both him and Ginny to remain behind, as she passed. This time, the kitchen door closed very quietly; Remus was staring at it again.

When the silence became too cloying, Harry leaned forward. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”

Remus sighed. “I have no idea what to say to her.”

Harry waved his hands impatiently toward the kitchen. “Just tell her you’re not a werewolf anymore, Remus. She’ll-”

“What?!”

Harry’s mouth closed slowly. Sirius’ eyes were bulging out, his mouth hanging open in a most unflattering manner. He was gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle so hard, his knuckles had turned white. Harry turned back to Remus, startled that he hadn’t already told Sirius, and mystified as to the reason why he wouldn’t have.

Remus was shaking his head. “We aren’t certain yet.” He spoke through his lips, and Harry was momentarily nervous that Remus would be angry at him for giving it away.

“You...aren’t…certain,” Sirius repeated, his grip not slacking at all. Closing his eyes, Remus relayed Dumbledore’s thoughts on the matter. Sirius continued to stare at him. His face had lost all expression by the time Remus had finished speaking; Remus was watching him warily. But, his voice flat, all Sirius said was, “I hope it’s true, then.” And not waiting for Remus to reply, Sirius turned and went up the darkened stairs.

Feeling an unbearable weight pressing up against his heart, Harry watched him retreat. “Why didn’t you tell him?” he asked quietly when Sirius was finally swallowed up by the blackness; he couldn’t help the indignation he felt on his godfather’s behalf.

“I don’t even know if it’s true.”

Harry still couldn’t quite understand why that would stop him from telling Sirius the news, but before he could ask as much, a streak of silver zipped past them, and passed through the kitchen door. Ginny shot to her feet; Harry was dragged with her.

“It’s Dad’s Patronus,” she said excitedly as she pulled him to the kitchen. Remus and Severus followed, though Remus only after Severus had almost reached the door.

Mrs. Weasley was smiling when they entered; her arms were filled with rags and buckets. “They’ve subdued the Death Eaters. Your father will have to remain behind until they have everything under control again,” she told them.

“And Percy?” Ginny asked. Harry didn’t miss the sorrow that crossed Mrs. Weasley’s face even as she nodded.

“He’s all right,” she confirmed briskly and then began bustling about the kitchen. She told Ron and Hermione that she no longer needed their help, but they lingered in the kitchen anyway. Bill and Tonks were already busily polishing Mrs. Black’s silver. They weren’t using magic, and Harry remembered that Tonks had once said her housekeeping spells weren’t her best ones.

“Can we help, Mum?” Ginny asked, but Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

“You children go play,” she directed, indicating Fred and George in the command. They made faces at that, but didn’t argue. “And you two, don’t leave until your father gets here!” she shouted as they hurried through the door. Making a noise of satisfaction, she waved her fingers pointedly toward the door. Ron and Hermione followed Fred and George. Ginny gave Harry an inquiring look; he shrugged and they turned toward the door. He paused as he caught sight of Remus.

Remus was watching Tonks. His lips thinned as Tonks’ fingers brushed up against Bill’s as she took a proffered fork. Remus’ eyes narrowed, and as though Tonks could feel his gaze, her head suddenly came up. Her own brown eyes narrowed and she glared at Remus, daring him to say a word. Apparently, Remus didn’t dare; he turned around and left, opening the door with a loud smack of his palm. Tonks stared after him, her mouth puckering; her eyes were glistening with tears.

She began rubbing the fork with unnecessary force.

Severus gave Harry a gentle prod between his shoulder blades. Harry, his heart hurting even more, obeyed the gesture. He and Ginny went back into the sitting room, with Severus right behind.

Remus had resumed his slump in the threadbare chair.

“Harry, a word,” Severus murmured as he moved toward an empty corner of the room. Ginny let his hand go reluctantly as they passed the sofa. Harry smiled at her and followed his father.

“Thank you for putting that shield up,” Harry said quietly, as soon as Severus turned around. “I’m sorry I-”

Severus halted his apology with a small shake of his head. “You were concerned for Ginny’s safety. Your reaction was perfectly understandable, even though I would never have left Ginny to Pettigrew. Thankfully, Black understood my intention to Apparate here.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a long moment, as he studied his father’s passive face. He wanted to ask his dad why he couldn’t just accept the apology, instead of exonerating him so quickly—dismissing his remorse. What was so difficult about accepting that he’d made a mistake?

“Something else?” Severus inquired. Harry shook his head, which only caused his father to raise his eyebrow. “I believe we are past the point where you need to concern yourself about sparing my feelings,” he said, the dry tone making Harry’s lips twitch of their own accord.

He did have a point, Harry supposed. His cheeks tingled though at the thought of their conversations yesterday. And the slightly uncomfortable, nervous tension of things left unsaid, still lingered in the air around them.

But even with that, his dad had not hesitated to comfort him about Sirius earlier, and he’d been willing to discuss the past despite his own discomfort. And that’s what made Harry look his father in the eye and say, hesitantly though it emerged, “Why won’t you ever let me apologize?”

He watched with concern as his father’s eyes widened a little with surprise, and then narrowed in thought. “I am uncertain,” he answered honestly. “It is, perhaps, another matter we will need to add to the list of topics I would like to discuss with you while we are away.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, his lips pulling upward once more. “You made a list of things we need to discuss?”

“I did not wish to forget anything,” Severus said seriously. Harry had to smash his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. His father gave a small shake of his head, his equivalent of an eye roll. “I assume you would like to remain here until the others return to Hogwarts?”

Harry sobered at the question. “I’d like to, if you wouldn’t mind,” he answered carefully. He didn’t really want to leave Ginny yet, at least not until Mr. Weasley was back. And he would feel badly leaving when Remus was so upset.

“I do not mind.”

Harry smiled at that, knowing it wasn’t precisely the truth. “I’m sure Mrs. Weasley would understand if you didn’t stay.”

Severus gave him look that Harry interpreted as scandalized, though he would never tell his father so. But it didn’t matter. They were distracted as another silver streak, that looked something like a lion, zinged past them and on into the kitchen.

“It is Shacklebolt’s Patronus,” Severus supplied when the others looked around at one another in confusion, though Remus, as soon as he had seen the streak, sat up straighter, and he was watching the door intently now. A moment later, Tonks, followed by Bill, marched into the sitting room.

As he passed, Bill said to Severus, “I’m escorting Tonks back to the Ministry.” Tonks’ eyes stayed stubbornly forward, but Remus, his entire body rigid, followed their progress from his chair until the front door closed behind them.

After a few tense minutes of uncomfortable silence, Remus stood abruptly and pivoted toward the Floo. It flared open before he could reach it though, and then Mr. Weasley was stepping over the hearth. His clothes were rumpled, and covered with soot, and there was an odd burn mark over his left shoulder. A gash on his right cheek balanced him out.

“Dad!” the four Weasley children shouted as they flung themselves at their father. Their excited cries alerted Mrs. Weasley, who came hurrying out of the kitchen. She shooed her children away from Mr. Weasley, though both Ginny and Ron seemed reluctant to go, and so Mrs. Weasley had to settle for receiving only a partial hug from her husband.

Harry, without realizing it, had stepped closer to his father as he watched them fondly and, for the first time since he’d seen the Weasleys all together, he felt no pang of loss. Though he did wonder briefly how much like the Weasleys he and his mother and father would have been if his mum hadn’t died…and if perhaps he would have had a brother or a sister.

“Is Tonks still here?” Mr. Weasley was asking; he sounded a little winded. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

“She only just left…through the front door.”

“The Minister dropped the shields right after Shacklebolt sent his Patronus along. He sent me to fetch her. They need her to stay with Lucius while the other Aurors return the rest of the Death Eaters back to Azkaban,” he explained at his family’s confused looks.

“You’re not a messenger, Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley said indignantly. Mr. Weasley put an arm around her shoulders.

“There’s no reason to fret, Molly. I wasn’t needed for anything else at the moment.” He smiled at her; she made a soft harrumphing sound but didn’t argue the point further.

“They shouldn’t have had all of those Death Eaters there together, to begin with,” Fred spoke up. His father nodded.

“It was irregular, to be sure. Cambry Olsen, from the Minister’s office, told me that Scrimgeour had an unexpected visitor this morning—Bavister Simon, the fellow who hosted Harry’s hero’s dinner.” Mr. Weasley spared a warm smile for Harry. “Scrimgeour dispatched an owl to Azkaban as soon as Simon left.”

“But why would Simon want the Death Eaters brought to the Ministry?” Harry asked. Mr. Weasley shook his head.

“He couldn’t have known that would happen, of course. And the Death Eaters weren’t in the hall during the trial. Scrimgeour insisted they be kept back until it was over,” he explained.

Harry, feeling funny over it, glanced at his father. He and Remus were exchanging looks, Remus seeming to have put the issue of Tonks aside for the moment. That alone was enough to make Harry’s feelings toward Bavister Simon all the more uneasy.

“Well, I’m just happy to have all of that over with,” Mrs. Weasley was saying as she brushed the soot off Mr. Weasley’s jacket.

“But it isn’t over,” Harry said quietly. “What about Mr. Malfoy’s trial?”

Severus shook his head, understanding Harry’s unspoken desire not to go back to the Wizengamot. “You already spoke on Lucius’ behalf. There will be no reason for you to go back. They can hold another trial without you.”

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat; Severus and Harry looked over to him. “They’re continuing the trial…Scrimgeour is still presiding, though most of the members of the Wizengamot left during the confusion. Those watching the proceedings were removed for their safety.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “It has turned into a private trial then…I assume Simon is still there?”

Mr. Weasley nodded, suddenly beginning to look uncomfortable. “But surely, Severus, you aren’t suggesting that Simon engineered this simply to ensure that Lucius’ trial would go easy…”

“I am suggesting nothing.” Severus’ bland tone made Mr. Weasley purse his lips thoughtfully, but he nodded.

Mrs. Weasley started fussing over her husband’s scrape, while telling Ron and Hermione it was time for all of them to be getting back to Hogwarts, even though the afternoon classes would be almost over by now.

“And I suppose I should go upstairs and check on Sirius,” Remus put in, and it was obvious he was not looking forward to a possible confrontation about his earlier evasion. Harry’s eyes strayed to the shadowy staircase; his stomach muscles tightened at the thought of talking to Sirius again, though he wasn’t certain he would be able to enjoy his holiday with his father if he didn’t. His eyes returned swiftly to Ginny. Sensing his dilemma, Severus turned to Mrs. Weasley.

“Harry and I are leaving Hogwarts this evening for a few days,” he said. Mrs. Weasley looked briefly surprised, but then she was nodding approvingly after a quick glance toward Harry. “If you have no objection, I believe Harry would appreciate some time with his friends before we depart. I will see them safely back to Hogwarts.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded, smiling fondly at Harry. “A holiday will do wonders for him,” she approved. “It is so wonderful, Severus, to see you taking such good care of Harry.”

Severus simply inclined his head, though Harry could sense his father’s flame brightening briefly at her praise. Harry smiled at Mrs. Weasley, but she had already turned to give Ron and Ginny—and Hermione, firm admonishments to be good, as well as expressing gratitude that they were all right. Then she was distributing kisses to everyone in the room, Severus excluded.

Along with Remus’ kiss, she murmured words that only he could hear into his ear, and then finally allowed Mr. Weasley to take her into the Floo. They disappeared in a flash of fire. Fred and George were next; they’d agreed, after an unusually stern look from their father, to return home for dinner.

As soon as the twins were swallowed up, there was a soft creak from the direction of the stairs. Harry turned around; Sirius, with a grimace on his face, was just stepping into the room. Harry stared at him, the twinging going full force in his stomach now.

“Harry…if you...” Sirius cleared his throat; he seemed to be trying not to look at Severus. “I’d like to speak with you…to apologize actually…if you have a moment before you have to leave…”

Sirius, whom Harry had never known to be anything other than self-assured and confident, was pleading with him. Maybe no one else but Remus would be able to tell, but Harry could, and a lump took over his throat so that he could only nod, rather jerkily.

Harry glanced at his father, half-expecting him to object to him being alone with Sirius, but Severus simply gave him the tiniest of smiles. Harry felt the space where his wisp was nestled in his father’s flames widening a little, and nodding in understanding, Harry pushed his storm forward, giving his father permission to monitor his emotions. I will be here, should you need me, the warm flames promised. Harry nodded once more.

Sirius’ was watching their silent interplay.

When Harry turned back to him, he pointed vaguely to the kitchen, perhaps sensing that Severus would not allow them to go much farther away. It was a rather good assumption, since Severus was giving Sirius a very dark look. Sirius’ jaw tensed visibly as he turned away. Harry, with another look at Ginny, followed his godfather.

“Where are you taking Harry, Professor?” Hermione was asking brightly as Harry and Sirius entered the adjacent room. Sirius remained standing in the center of the kitchen as Harry shut the door behind them, cutting off Severus’ answer.

Harry stood next to the door, his fingers still draped over the knob, staring at the back of Sirius’ head.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius finally turned around; his vocal chords scraped painfully over the words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Harry.” He swallowed, but other than that, he didn’t move, as though he was afraid to get too close to Harry, and again Harry was struck by how young his godfather’s face seemed now. “I was thoughtless when I spoke to you, and you can’t imagine how dreadfully sorry I am. I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way…especially not by me.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he meant, and he wouldn’t have known how to respond even if he had understood Sirius’ last statement, so he avoided it to ask stonily, “Are you really leaving, then?”

Sirius’ face fell. He’d obviously been expecting Harry to at least acknowledge his apology, if not to accept it completely. But Harry couldn’t—he was still hurting too much.

“I…Albus suggested it might be best this way…”

Harry very much wanted to tell Sirius that Dumbledore should keep his crooked nose out of it, but since that wasn’t really prudent to the discussion all he said was, “It’ll be easier for you, anyway.”

Sirius frowned at that, but it was stern sort of frown, instead of sad. “It will not be easier for me, Harry,” he denied firmly. “Do you really think this is what I want?”

“Then why are you, if you don’t want to?” Harry demanded, folding his arms across his chest. Sirius sighed; his entire torso moved gustily with the movement.

“When I saw Remus in the void, I entertained, for just a moment, the thought of what it would be like if I was able to step back through the veil. I thought of you, Harry, and how much it would mean to finally be able to be a proper guardian for you. And that’s all I wanted.”

The tingle in Harry’s gut was beginning to spread. “So, now, just because I don’t need a guardian anymore, you’re leaving? Just like that? Now that your obligation to James doesn’t exist anymore?” he asked bitterly.

“It wasn’t an obligation, Harry,” Sirius retorted, seeming to forget that he had come in here to garner some sort of forgiveness from his godson. “I didn’t want you to come live with me simply because you were James’ son.”

“Not simply because?” Harry returned bitingly. “But that was one of the reasons, wasn’t it, Sirius?”

Sirius threw up his hands in exasperation. “Harry, I thought you were James’ son. James was my best friend. Of course I cared about you because you my best friend’s son. He asked me to be your godfather because I was his best friend.”

Harry felt his father’s flame glowing as his own ire rose. Are you all right? the flame queried. Yes, Harry’s wisp snapped the flame back even as he continued to glare at Sirius.

“And you wouldn’t have ever agreed to be my godfather if James hadn’t been pretending to be my father,” Harry bit out. “If you had known who my real father was.” The accusation seemed muddled at best, but Harry hardly cared at the moment.

“Snape wouldn’t have asked me, Harry!” Realizing his temper was overcoming his original purpose, Sirius closed his eyes wearily. “None of that matters now though Harry,” he said quietly. “Don’t you understand? No matter how I started out caring about you, I love you now because you’re Harry. Not because I thought you were James’ son, and not even because you’re my godson…but because you’re just Harry.”

“Then why are you leaving?” Harry’s anger had dissipated into hurt.

“Because Harry,” Sirius said tiredly, “I would have given up everything if you still needed me. But I can’t just sit in this wretched hole anymore, waiting around for a chance to see you again.”

Harry felt as though he’d been slapped. He could barely find the single word, “Fine.”

Sirius stared at him. “Fine?”

“Go ahead and leave, then, Sirius, if that’s what you want to do.”

Sirius still looked confused. “Harry, I don’t need to leave right away. I didn’t know if you could forgive me…I thought you wouldn’t want me around, but if you do-”

And no matter how childish it was, Harry couldn’t tell his godfather how much he wanted him to stay; he couldn’t see past the betrayal in Sirius’ perfectly rational reasoning. “I don’t,” he said coldly. “I’m sorry I was such a burden to you in the first place.”

And Sirius stood there, mouth parted in surprise.

Harry turned away, hurt, remorse and shame clogging up both his eyes and his chest.

“Harry-”

Sirius either didn’t finish or Harry simply didn’t hear the rest as he jerked the door open and went quickly back into the sitting room; the door thudded dully behind. The eyes of his friends and his father shot over to him instantly.

“Harry?” Severus inquired instantly, but Harry didn’t have a chance to say anything as they were interrupted for the final time that night. By Fawkes—and two passengers. Dumbledore smiled as he popped into the room; Tonks, on the other hand was scowling ferociously.

“The Wizengamot has just pronounced Lucius not guilty, and he and his family are being escorted back to Malfoy Manor,” Dumbledore announced as Fawkes flashed away again.

None of them had a chance to react.

Tonks strode up to Remus and slapped him sharply across the face. Caught off guard, Remus gasped at the blow; his hand went immediately to the reddened skin. His mouth had formed an incredulous O.

“How could you not tell me?” Tonks’ quivering demand echoed loudly in the room that had been silenced by the crack of her palm against Remus’ cheek. “It had nothing to do with your being a werewolf, did it?” she demanded hoarsely, and Harry was afraid she was going to start sobbing.

“What?” Remus asked stupidly; perhaps his brain had been jarred by Tonks’ blow.

“What was it, Remus?” Tonks asked angrily. “Did you shag someone else, then?”

“Tonks!” Remus objected, his eyes darting around the room at the impressionable teenagers, not to mention, Severus and Albus. “No, of course not…I don’t know what-”

“Dumbledore told me what happened, Remus,” Tonks bit out. “He told me you’d been cured. Cured! And you didn’t tell me! If that was the only reason you couldn’t marry me, you would have told me! If there’s someone else now, or you just don’t want to, Remus, you didn’t have to lie. And make such a scene in front of my parents. I would have understood if you—if you-”

Tonks couldn’t speak anymore…the gathered tears had started to fall, and she looked completely dejected as she stood, crumpled in front of Remus.

“Perhaps, you’d like to be alone,” Dumbledore suggested crisply.

Tonks and Remus paid no attention, but Severus nodded briskly. As Harry was ushered into the fireplace, he saw Sirius, standing near the bottom of the stairs again, his fingers already on the banister. Guilt and resentment stabbed at Harry again, but neither one was allowed to surface before the flames took him back to Hogwarts.

“Mr. Malfoy was acquitted, after all he did?” Hermione demanded as soon as they were all safely deposited in the Snapes’ sitting room. “The rest of the trial was less than thirty minutes!”

Dumbledore smiled gently at her. “Lucius’ movements will be tracked for the time being…at my insistence. But yes, Ms. Granger, unfortunately what was left of the Wizengamot…and the Minister declared that he was not guilty of any crimes.”

“But even if he helped defeat Voldemort, he was still a Death Eater for so many years,” she argued.

“The Ministry has its flaws, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore told her.

“But Harry, surely you didn’t mean for him to get away with what he did,” Hermione admonished, turning now to Harry. But Harry didn’t want to think about Lucius or whether or not he was literally getting away with murder; his head was pounding again. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of both palms.

“I don’t know what I meant, Hermione,” he said tiredly.

“We did believe that at least, Lucius would have been magically restrained within his residence, if Harry’s testimony did earn him a reprieve from Azkaban,” Dumbledore supplied when it became obvious that Harry wasn’t going to contribute to the conversation.

“Perhaps we should wait to continue this conversation,” Severus suggested as Harry finally gave into his headache and slouched onto the couch, pulling Ginny with him.

“Of course, Severus,” Dumbledore agreed, and was gathering his robes about him in preparation to leave when Fawkes reappeared. The beautiful bird trilled softly beside Dumbledore’s ear. Dumbledore sighed. “I had hoped they would reconsider…” He shook his head and turned back to Severus. “Bellatrix has been Kissed.”

The resounding silence was deafening.

“But they didn’t even give her a trial,” Hermione finally squeaked.

“If you remember, Ms. Granger, neither did Barty Crouch, Jr. receive a trial…nor Sirius,” Dumbledore responded, his voice sounding very cold all of sudden. He glanced around the room. “I must return to the Ministry,” he declared quietly, and then with a flash of light, he and Fawkes were gone.

--

As the dinner hour approached, Harry’s headache was making him feel slightly nauseous, but he ignored it and instead, focused on the game of Exploding Snap that Ron had insisted on playing. Hermione had refused to play; she was stewing about the inequities in the Ministry’s justice system. Ginny had seemed content to lean into Harry’s side while she played.

“You’re lucky you need this holiday so much, Harry,” she teased him while she traced designs on his palm, making Ron roll his eyes, though Harry was pretty certain he saw him smiling a little.

“Why?” Harry asked curiously, glancing up from the cards he was carefully re-stacking; it was rather difficult with one hand.

“I don’t think I’d let you leave otherwise,” Ginny told him seriously as she sat up.

“It’s only a few days,” Hermione reassured her. “And Harry won’t be able to get into any trouble with Professor Snape right there.”

Harry made a face at his friend. “Thanks Hermione,” he said sourly. Hermione shrugged.

“Well, Harry, you do seem to attract an awful lot of trouble.”

“It’s not his fault,” Ron piped up as he crammed his cards back into their pouch, completely mussing up Harry’s efforts at organizing them. “It just has a way of finding him, even when he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Hermione raised a skeptical brow.

“Sometimes,” Harry added pointedly, “I’m caught up in rescuing certain people who’ve decided to tangle with mountain trolls.”

Hermione sniffed. “I did not tangle with him.”

“Or,” Harry went on, as though Hermione hadn’t even spoken, “I’m fiddling with illegal Time-turners with that same certain someone.”

“That was Dumbledore’s idea!” she hissed indignantly. She glanced at the lab door, where Harry’s father was working on a potion inside.

Harry chuckled, which only made Hermione huff. “Yeah, well, you almost got us killed by a werewolf with your little howling trick,” he said as he grinned. Hermione’s face flushed a bright red.

“Harry!”

“How did you do that?” Ginny asked, never having heard the story.

“Hush, Harry,” Hermione ordered. “If Professor Snape hears you-”

“He’s my father, Hermione,” Harry said as he rolled his eyes. “He’s not going to give us detention for using a Time-turner to save Sirius and Buckbeak.”

“Time-turner?”

Harry snapped his head around. His father was staring at him, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

“Erm…”

“It was Dumbledore’s idea, sir!” Hermione blurted, and then clapped her hands over her mouth, her entire face and neck igniting with mortification.

“You went back in time?” Severus demanded hoarsely. “At Albus’ suggestion?”

“Er…yeah….I guess so,” Harry answered worriedly, more for Dumbledore’s neck than his own. His father scowled, and Hermione paled. “Hermione, calm down,” Harry ordered quickly. “He isn’t angry with you.”

The reassurance didn’t seem to help at all. Hermione looked like she was about to start hyperventilating.

“Ms. Granger, this was over two years ago. I believe the statute of limitations has been reached,” Severus told her dryly, though his eyes were still dark with anger. “And as I am certain that none of you will be using a Time-turner in the near future, I believe we can let the past remain in the past.”

Hermione’s color was returning to normal. “Oh,” she said as she nodded, obviously thinking over her professor’s claim that she could no longer be punished for something she’d done two years ago. “The Time-turners were all destroyed,” she informed him firmly, sealing their pact in the only way she knew how. Severus said nothing; he was gazing at Harry.

“What?” Harry queried. “You’re not going to add this to our list of items to be discussed, are you?” He was only half-serious but his father said nothing, and Harry wondered what he was thinking about.

“It must be getting close to dinner time,” Ron interjected. He looked longingly toward the door;

“Do you wish to have dinner before we leave?” Severus inquired, but Harry shook his head. They’d already stayed long past when they’d meant to leave. And he really had no desire to go to the Great Hall, especially if news of Lucius’ trial had reached the student body.

“I will retrieve our luggage,” Severus said, and with a nod to Harry’s friends, he turned toward their rooms.

“Do you think Remus and Tonks will be all right?” Ginny asked as Harry walked with them to the door.

“Tonks is barmy,” Ron told them.

“She is not, Ron,” Hermione scolded. “She was understandably hurt because Lupin didn’t tell her what had happened.”

“I’m sure they’ll work it out,” Harry interrupted before they could get into any more discussion of Remus’ or Tonks’ mental states. At least he hoped they’d work it out. He smiled down at Ginny, who had moved closer. “I’ll miss you, Gin.” Ignoring Ron and Hermione for the moment, he said quietly, “We never really had a first date, you know.”

“We went to the Halloween dance,” Ginny reminded him with smile. Harry shook his head.

“Doesn’t count.” After all, it could hardly be called a date when his father’s impending torture had been hanging over his head.

“Are you asking me, then?” Ginny teased.

Harry laughed softly. “Yes.”

“I think she actually wants you to ask her, mate,” Ron told him, leaning in a little. Harry gave him a light shove. “Just trying to help,” his friend grumbled as he straightened his jumper.

“There’s a Hogsmeade Saturday before the Christmas holidays, isn’t there?” Harry asked, figuring maybe Ron was right. “Would you like to go with me?” He didn’t know why he felt nervous with the question, since Ginny had been his girlfriend for months now.

“I’d love to, Harry,” Ginny said with a huge smile. And with that, she stretched up on her tiptoes and planted a happy kiss on Harry’s lips. He grinned as he hugged her to him, and set to work returning her kiss. He realized his father might still object, though with the Death Eaters safely in Azkaban, and now that Bellatrix… He shoved thoughts of the insane witch away, and just concentrated on Ginny.

“All right, that’s enough of that,” Ron grunted, nudging Harry pointedly. Harry smiled as he pulled away from Ginny.

“Leave them alone, Ron,” Hermione said, smiling fondly at both of them. She gave Harry a big hug. “Have fun, Harry. Relax and get better, all right?”

“It’s not convalescence, Hermione,” Ron groused as he clapped Harry on the shoulder. “But yeah, Harry, have a good time and all that.”

“I will,” Harry told him. “And thanks.”

“Do have fun Harry,” Ginny agreed into his ear as she threw her arms around him once more. “And make sure your dad has fun too,” she added. Harry, his heart swelling, pulled Ginny close.

“Thanks, Gin. I love you, you know.”

Ginny kissed him lightly on the lips. “I know.”

Ron, though he’d heard the sentiment from Harry before, gave Harry an odd look as Harry let Ginny go. “Bye mate,” he said hastily as he ushered his sister and Hermione out the door. Ginny’s hand drifted away at the last moment, and she gave him a little wave before he closed the door. He sighed.

Severus came back in while Harry was still leaning against the door; his lips quirked in amusement. “We will only be gone a few days.”

Harry smiled sheepishly as he pushed himself away from the door. “There’s a Hogsmeade Saturday, right before Christmas holidays next weekend. Is it…is it all right if I go this time?” he asked as he came over to where his father was standing near the Floo. Severus pursed his lips in thought.

“There is unlikely to be any danger to you. Unless a problem occurs between now and then, yes you may attend,” he agreed after a moment.

“Thanks.”

The Floo opened at that, and McGonagall stuck her head through. “A letter was just delivered for Harry,” she explained to Severus. “I’ve checked it for anything harmful,” she added, holding out a roll of parchment; Severus took it before Harry could.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said. She smiled at him.

“Enjoy your holiday, Mr. Snape.” And then she was gone again. Harry was already distracted by the writing on the scroll by the time the flames had died down again.

“It’s from Sirius,” Harry told his father, but Severus ran several diagnostic spells before he was satisfied. He finally gave it over to Harry. With trembling fingers, Harry undid the ribbon and unrolled it. Sirius’ familiar script jumped off the page.

Harry,

I’m sorry I’m saying my farewell in a letter. And I honestly can’t express how sorry I am for everything I said. I don’t blame you for not wanting to see me right now. I do understand and I beg for your forgiveness, Harry, whenever you feel like you can give it to me. No matter how long it takes. Perhaps it’s better that I’ll be gone for a few months.

I want you to know, Harry, that I didn’t mean that you were any sort of burden to me. You weren’t--not ever. You were actually quite the opposite. Knowing that I’d be able to see you, or simply talk to you soon, was often the only thing that kept me sane.

I understand that you’re happy to have Snape as your father, and I can see that you love him. And that he loves you as well, no matter what I said to the contrary. I can’t pretend I really understand it, but I won’t try to come between you if you do decide you want to see me when I finish with my training.

I shouldn’t have questioned you like I did, and I should never have told you that Snape doesn’t love you…not when you believed it so fiercely. I’m truly sorry for that. You can’t know how much it pains me to know that I’ve hurt you. I do love you, Harry. Please don’t forget that, no matter how angry you are with me.

Or how much you care about Snape.

It wasn’t signed.

Harry’s eyes stung with tears. The last sentence was hastily scrawled, as if it had been a last-minute thought before Sirius had hurriedly rolled up the parchment without looking at it again.

A last-minute plea.

Harry scrunched the parchment in his fingers until it was crumpled wad.

“Harry?”

Harry shook his head, overwhelmed even more by the concern in his father’s voice. “He’s gone.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “He should not have left without telling you personally.” The anger in his voice was barely restrained.

“It’s not his fault,” Harry told him as he wrinkled the ball of parchment even further. “I told him to leave,” he explained in small voice.

“I do not understand.” Severus’ eyes had darkened with confusion.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry told him. When his father looked about to protest, Harry simply shook his head again. “I don’t want to talk about Sirius anymore.” To emphasize his request, Harry tossed the smushed letter into the fireplace.

“Harry,” Severus said, his voice sounding strained, “you cannot ignore your feelings about this matter. Letting your emotions build up will only lead to another outburst when you are no longer able to keep them reined in.”

Harry wasn’t certain if his father was referring to his magical or verbal outburst—though he’d actually had several verbal ones in the past few days. He could feel the vague twinges beginning again at the thought of his words to both his father and Sirius. “I’m not feeling up to talking about it right now,” he finally said with a shrug. “You can put it on your agenda as one of the topics we need to discuss,” he jested; it fell flat. He looked down at his empty fingers, wishing he hadn’t been so quick to toss Sirius’ letter in the fire.

“I shall,” Severus promised. There was a soft whizzing sound. Harry looked up again; his father was holding out the wrinkled parchment. Harry swallowed and took it gratefully.

“Thanks,” he murmured; Severus simply nodded. Harry slipped the ball of parchment into the pocket of his jeans. “Do you…” he began awkwardly, “…do you have more Headache Potion?”

Severus looked surprised, but as he studied his son’s pinched face, he nodded. He held out his hand and a small vial flew into his hands; Harry didn’t miss the gleam of satisfaction in his father’s eye.

“Perhaps some fresh air will alleviate your headaches,” he said as Harry downed the potion. With a wave of Severus’ fingers, the vial disappeared. “You are ready to leave then?” Severus asked smoothly. “We can begin working on that agenda after lunch.”

Harry smiled, both at the statement and at his father’s distraction tactic. “Do I get any input into this agenda?” he asked as Severus shrunk their bags and slid one into each pocket.

“Certainly,” Severus answered easily. “We will begin with the topic of your choice.”

“You realize that this is probably not what families do on holiday?” Harry asked, eyeing his father critically.

“I do, and I believe we have discussed that you and I will never be normal,” his father returned pointedly as he gathered Floo powder into his fingers. He motioned toward the fireplace. “And,” he added seriously as Harry stepped in beside him, “one of the reasons I am taking you on holiday is so that you will begin to heal from your recent ordeals.”

“Our recent ordeals,” Harry corrected firmly.

“Indeed.”

Severus threw down the powder, and with his sharp command, they were whisked away. They stepped out of another Floo only seconds later. Harry grinned, forgetting everything else for the moment.

His first holiday had begun.

1981

Severus quickly chanted the necessary charms over a squirming Harry before the toddler managed to wriggle himself out of James’ arms. James tightened his arms to steady him, and promptly let out a yelp as Harry tugged on his hair in protest.

“No, Harry,” Severus said gently, shaking his head firmly at his son; Harry hardly looked chagrined.

“Aren’t you finished yet?” James asked, eyeing Harry’s little fingers, which looked ready to strike again.

Severus nodded and James quickly opened his arms. Harry wasted no time in scooting away, and toddling over to the sandcastle Lily was carving. Harry babbled delightedly when Lily handed him a shovel; he immediately began destroying Lily’s hard work.

James and Severus stood up, James rubbing his head ruefully. “Why doesn’t he ever do that to you?” he grumbled. Severus didn’t answer, only favoring the other man with a faint smirk before turning to gaze at Lily and Harry. James gave Severus’ shoulder blade a light nudge with his elbow. “Go play,” he instructed.

“I do not play, Potter,” he said with a disdainful sniff. James snorted at his friend.

“So then go instruct Harry in the various architectures involved in building a proper sandcastle, Snape,” he suggested.

Severus’ lips twitched, the closest he ever came to a smile. “Enjoy your book, James,” he said lightly before moving toward the sandcastle. He sat in the sand beside his son. Harry promptly gave him his shovel, giving babbled instructions while pointing excitedly to the half of the castle which he’d just beaten in.

James smiled at them and settled himself on a towel. He almost managed to stifle a laugh when Harry catapulted a shovelful of sand right at Severus’ face. Severus spluttered as the grains spilled over his eyes and nose. Lily had no such compunctions. She laughed outright, holding her torso as she toppled a bit with her jollity. Severus swiped the sand away in a flurry of fingers, catching James’ eye just as laughter broke through James’ lips. James hurriedly buried his nose in his book.

Harry was giggling by now as well, though his attention was quickly gathered up by the waves which were gently lapping the outer walls of Lily’s castle. He jabbed a stubby finger toward the water, and then turned to Severus, fisting his fingers impatiently in the air. Severus stood up fluidly and pulled Harry into his arms. He offered his free hand to Lily, which she took without hesitation, and Severus pulled her up to stand. The trio walked toward the cresting water.

“Would you like to go into the water, Harry?” Severus inquired, sounding pleased at the prospect, even to James’ ear. Harry’s eager fists began pumping again, this time toward the waves.

“I think that’s a yes, Sev,” Lily said with laugh. Severus nodded briskly, taking on this new task as he did any other—with ordered determination. Taking a few steps toward the shoreline, he set Harry gently down at the water’s edge. Water licked at Harry’s toes, and he squealed with delight, his bright green eyes shining with excitement. He clapped his hands together gleefully.

“Would you like to venture further now?” Severus asked solemnly. James, no longer needing to hide his smile since Severus wasn’t facing him, set his book down and grinned at his grave friend. Harry, of course, had no answer for his father, but that didn’t dissuade Severus.

He simply stretched his index finger toward his son. Harry’s entire fist wrapped around the proffered digit. Taking Lily’s hand as well, their fingers twining naturally together, they stepped into the waves together.

--

1996

Harry grinned at his father, feeling almost giddy with excitement. Severus was feeling rather pleased himself. Harry only had one request for their holiday, and Severus, though it was honestly one of the last things he would choose to do, had agreed immediately. And the look on his son’s face was already well worth the dislike of his choice of activity.

“You are ready, I presume?” Severus asked, though he already knew the answer. But he enjoyed Harry’s eager nod anyway. “The Disillusionment Charm will remain over us as long as we do not stray too far apart.” Harry nodded again, beginning to look impatient now; Severus suppressed a small smile. “I trust,” he said, forcing a measure of mock-severity into his tone, “that you will not attempt any dangerous stunts?”

Harry sighed loudly, his fingers beginning to quiver. “I won’t,” he agreed when his father simply stared at him, obviously waiting for an answer. Severus considered him, as if honestly trying to decide whether or not to believe him. Harry groaned. “If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to leave without you,” he threatened. Severus smirked at him.

“I do not believe you will,” he returned, and then before Harry had a chance to catch the movement, Severus had kicked off from the ground. Harry’s grin lit up his entire face and he followed suit, sending his broom streaking toward the starry sky. With a whoop of delight, he passed his father, and then yanked the tip of his broom around to send it zipping in a loop around his dad’s hovering broomstick.

“What?” he asked when he came to stop, with an innocent smile at his father’s frown. “That wasn’t a stunt.”

At his father’s raised eyebrow, Harry grinned again and sent his broom tumbling over itself, so that he was spiraling down toward the earth in a blur of cloak and jeans. Severus’ breath hitched, his fingers poised on his wand as Harry almost met the ground, but Harry pulled up just in time and came careening back to hover once more in front of his father; his wind-blown hair and wide grin the only sign of his aerobatics.

“That was a stunt.”

Severus glowered at him. Harry’s eyes were twinkling, and Severus almost couldn’t manage to growl his threat. “Do that again, and we will be taking a Portkey,” he warned. Harry nodded solemnly, though his twitching lips gave him away instantly. Severus had a rather disconcerting urge to swat the back of his cheeky son’s head, but he settled for a narrowed-eyed glare before turning back toward their destination.

“I’ll try to keep it slow so you’ll be able to keep up.”

Severus turned quickly toward his son. “Are you insinuating that I am less than proficient on a broom?” he demanded.

“Yes.” Harry’s mirth bubbled over as Severus’ eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise at the honest retort. Harry was chortling as he nudged his broom forward. The almost imperceptible movement sent him rocketing forward, and Severus, shaking his head in amusement, took off after him, forgetting for the moment that he didn’t particularly enjoy being at this altitude.

“Too fast?” Harry challenged as he picked up speed, glancing over his shoulder at his slightly trailing father. Severus bent low over his broom, and with a nudge that didn’t have nearly the finesse of his son’s, he whooshed past Harry. An instant later, Harry was at his side, his easy smile making Severus see just how effortless this was for him.

And though it seemed Harry’s fingers were itching to pick up speed again, he glanced over at Severus and grinned again, obviously wanting to remain by Severus’ side. Severus smiled as well, allowing his lips to lift fully in response. Harry looked happier than he had in weeks. And so Severus gave up any hesitation on his own part, and made a motion for Harry to take the lead. Try to refrain from giving me a heart attack, if you would, his flame suggested lightly.

Harry, his eyes lighting up, gave a little shout of affirmation and with without any nudging motion that Severus could detect, he had swerved to the right toward a thick copse of trees. There was no reason that Severus could see to change directions, but he followed anyway.

“Just like a roller coaster!” Harry shouted as they swooped up and down over the protruding greenery that was very much like a long series of hills. With a sly smile, Harry abruptly released his hold on his broom handle and spread his arms wide. And although Severus had no idea what a roller coaster was, he blanched. “No hands!” Harry shouted, laughing now as he watched his father’s face contorting with both irritation and anxiety.

“Unless you would like to finish this trip on my broom, I suggest you put your hands back where they belong.”

Severus didn’t exactly snap the command, but Harry recognized his father’s seriousness easily. Harry didn’t think his dad would actually make him get off his broom, but it was clear that he didn’t appreciate the thrill of riding without gripping the broomstick the way Harry did, and since Harry didn’t really want to make his father nervous, he obeyed.

“Sorry.” He tried not to grin too hugely, but he couldn’t really manage it; he was simply too excited. He’d forgotten how much he loved to fly. The adrenaline was pulsing through his veins, making him feel rather euphoric. Severus shook his head, and Harry was certain his lips were twitching with amusement.

And so it went, with Harry guiding them toward scenery that Severus would have avoided, though Harry kept his hands firmly around his broomstick, while they flew through the moonlit countryside. Harry slowed their breakneck speed only to admire the twinkling lights of villages along their way. But once they came to the water that marked the beginning of the end of their flight, Harry sent his father a mischievous look and then without warning, he and his broom were diving toward the water.

For a wild, panicked moment, Severus thought Harry meant to actually dive into the water. “Harry!” he shouted before he could stop himself. Harry looked up, but instead of breaking the surface, he guided his broom so that it was just above the water, his smile widening with delight as he took in the panicked look on Severus’ face, which was now transforming into a scowl.

Harry, still smiling, gripped his gloved hand in his teeth, yanked the glove off, and then dropped it into the water, and allowed his fingers to trail a along beside the broom. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cold water against his skin. He heard a soft whoosh.

“I believe I asked you not to give me a heart attack.”

Harry opened his eyes to find his father beside him, still scowling. “I can’t help it if you think I’m daft enough to fly into the water,” he retorted.

“I do not think you daft at all,” Severus returned. “Impetuous however…”

“Didn’t you tell me not to squelch my independent streak?”

“Hmmm…I am beginning to think I need to be more careful what I say to you.”

“Probably. You don’t want me getting any ideas, after all.” Harry ducked his head away from his father’s glare, stifling his grin as he pulled his broom gently upward again; his father followed.

Once they reached a higher altitude, Harry could just make out a coastline, which he assumed was the one they were looking for, though they were still pretty far away. “Is that it?” he asked, pointing, and somehow managing to put his glove back on with just his teeth as he glanced over at Severus. Severus nodded, pointing to a spot to the east of where Harry had indicated.

Harry gauged the distance to the white sand, and then turned again his father. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Want to race?” Severus couldn’t say no to the hopeful question, so he nodded. “On three?”

Severus smirked. “Certainly.” While Harry turned forward, as though he needed to concentrate, Severus said blithely, “Three.” He rocketed away from his son.

“Hey!”

But just as he knew it wouldn’t, Severus’ head-start made no difference. Harry overtook him in a matter of seconds. He shot his father a huge grin as he whooshed past. And though Severus did try as hard as he could, Harry was doing a victory tumble through the air before Severus had even reached the edge of the property. He came to a stop just as he passed the breaking waves, and watched in satisfaction as Harry hooted in delight.

“Well done,” Severus congratulated him; Harry’s answering grin warmed Severus.

“You cheated, and I still won,” Harry chortled as he indulged in several spiraling twists while he and Severus made their way back down to solid ground. He dismounted with a flourish, his excitement spilling over. Severus waited to dismount until he brought his broom to a full stop against the sand.

“I do not cheat.”

“You were supposed to wait until I counted to three!”

“You simply said, ‘on three’, and I did say three. Did you not hear me?” Severus asked, his eyebrows raised in innocent question. Harry was very tempted to stick his tongue out at his father, but he let out a small snort instead as he turned to survey the beach stretching out before them. The sand was glittering in the moonlight overhead…it would be a full moon in less than a week.

Harry turned abruptly to his father. “We didn’t tell Remus about the Minister.”

Severus drew his eyes from the cliff looming above them. Harry’s cheeks were flushed darkly, likely from both the cold and their excursion. His eyes were crinkling with worry though. “I sent the parchment to his quarters,” Severus assured him. “He will find it as soon as he makes it back there.”

Harry cocked his head a little, wondering over the amusement he could feel from his father’s flame. But he nodded anyway, and then turned his gaze to the spot where Severus’ eyes had strayed again. “You’re certain you don’t mind coming here?” Harry queried, noting the stiffness in Severus’ jaw.

Severus turned to face him, his eyes perfectly calm, and light. “I am certain. I was never able to bring your mother here.”

Harry nodded, understanding the ease in his father’s voice now. When he’d mentioned in passing last night, that he would one day like to see his father’s childhood home, he’d been afraid it was a selfish wish on his part; after all, Harry really had no desire to visit the Dursleys again, even if for some insane reason, his father wanted to. But as soon as he’d said it, Severus had immediately asked him if he’d like to visit on their holiday. He hadn’t seemed to mind then either, though Harry had wondered if his father would have agreed to anything at that point.

“Shall we go inside?”

“I can’t see it,” Harry reminded his father. Severus’ eyebrows rose pointedly. Harry smiled and announced to the air in general, “Snape Manor.” Harry watched as the empty space above them shimmered and then, where there had been nothing on the cliff a moment ago, a spacious manor appeared. There were shimmering gargoyles guarding the wide steps leading up to the door, and it was even larger than Simon’s estate had been. “We should have landed up there, I think,” Harry said as he studied the steep incline of the cliff face. He was surprised when his father smiled slightly; he almost looked excited.

Severus beckoned Harry forward, bringing them both to a halt a few centimeters from the sheer rock. Harry furrowed his eyebrows in befuddlement as his father ghosted his fingers in an arc above a single divet in the surface; the pads of his fingers barely touched it. But then Harry gaped as a man-sized rectangle formed. Harry squinted, even though he was still wearing his glasses, but honestly what he was seeing shouldn’t have been there. There seemed to be a room inside the cliff. His eyes darted to his father. Severus was watching him, clearly amused.

“Erm…why do you have some sort of secret room in the cliff?” he finally managed to ask.

“The room is not a secret. It was my bedroom in Snape Manor.”

“Your…bedroom?”

“Put your hand through the opening,” Severus directed, his eyes glinting.

“Okay…” Harry complied, but his hand didn’t simply go to the other side; there seemed to be a bit of resistance, as if he’d just plunged his hand in syrup. But he did manage to get it through to the other side. He waved his hand back and forth a bit and the rest of the rectangle seemed to sway a bit. “What is this?”

“It is a portal. It will take you directly into my bedroom.”

“Why?” Harry wondered, still waggling his hand; the slightly cloying pressure against his wrist was oddly soothing. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have a portal into your sitting room or something?”

“It would,” Severus agreed, “if it had not been a secret from my mother and father.”

Harry brought his hand out, startled; he gaped at his father. “You made a secret portal so you could sneak out of your house?” he finally spluttered. If anything, Severus simply looked even more amused. Harry waved an impatient hand as he realized the irony of his shock. “I know I am the last person to talk about sneaking around, but…it’s you!” He could think of no other way to explain it.

“Just how many times did you sneak around?” Severus’ eyes were shining with curiosity now. Harry shook his head though.

“You said I’d get the first choice of topics, remember? And this one is definitely not it.”

“So I did,” Severus agreed easily. “We will revisit this one however.”

Harry folded his arms across his chest; the wind was rather bitter. “Why?” he asked curiously. “You’re not going to…” He hesitated, thinking it would be awfully awkward if his father answered in the affirmative to a question about whether or not he planned to punish him for every mistake he’d ever made. “I mean, I’m…er…not going to do anymore sneaking…if that’s what you’re…concerned about.”

“No? Why?”

Harry chewed his bottom lip while he tried to make sense of the query. “Why?” he repeated. He couldn’t think what his father was really asking. “Well, I can’t think you’d be too pleased if I was to…erm…you know-” he waved his hand in a vague fashion. “-sneak around the castle or something like that.”

Severus suddenly looked very serious, and then Harry felt a wave of emotion cresting over him. He blinked. “Why are you lessening your shields?”

“I wish to speak to you honestly, without any miscommunication. And there is certainly no need for you to be anxious over the topic of your mischievous adventures over the past years.”

Harry smiled at the way his father so delicately termed his adventures. But in the interest of honesty, he said, “Well, I wasn’t sure you’d wouldn’t want be thinking of some sort of punishments for all the times I used the invisibility cloak.” He shrugged when his father’s eyebrow rose quickly in surprise.

“You believe I wish to punish you for each one of your past misdeeds?” he asked quietly, his unease over the idea projecting loudly through their connection. Harry quickly shook his head.

“Not really,” he reassured his father. “I mean, you can’t even really manage to punish me now, when I actually deserve it.” As soon as he said that, he sucked in a small breath. He hadn’t meant to be quite that honest. Severus was staring at him, surprise radiating over both of them in a tidal wave.

“What do you mean?” he demanded quietly. But Harry shook his head quickly; he wasn’t sure why he’d said that.

“Did you slip me some Veritaserum?” he jested weakly. His father narrowed his eyes.

“Veritaserum only compels you to tell the truth when asked a direct question.” He paused, his eyes sweeping over Harry’s nervous form. “What do you mean that I cannot manage to punish you?”

“Nothing,” Harry said with a languid shrug; the high from their flight was quickly wearing off. “I’m not really sure what I meant. I didn’t really mean to say it.”

“Perhaps my own emotions are pulling against yours. But regardless, you were obviously thinking it. What exactly have you done that I might wish to punish you for?” The question was filled with curiosity, though Harry could feel hesitation and anxiety in his father’s mind. Funny, with a question of that sort, Harry would have expected a least a touch of irritation, but there was none.

“I didn’t do anything…not since you rescued me from Voldemort anyway…” He shrugged. His father studied him with narrowed eyes.

“You are referring to the way you were acting while you were affected by Black and Voldemort?” he inquired. “I already explained that that was not your fault.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter,” Harry told him wearily, not really wanting to get into this discussion again.

“It does matter,” Severus disagreed. “Our inability to speak frankly with one another has caused far too much damage. And I am not willing to allow it to continue.”

Harry studied the waves breaking over the large outcropping of rocks to their left. He watched them silently, trying to find the courage to continue a discussion he’d never wanted to have in the first place. “I’m really sorry about what I said to you last night. I wasn’t trying to make anything-”

“Harry.” Severus’ fingers had found Harry’s chin and his face was turned back to face his father. “Are you under the impression that I am angry with you because you spoke the truth?”

Harry shook his head, a smile creeping onto his lips. “You’re not letting me apologize again.”

“And you,” Severus retorted softly, “are changing the subject to one that makes you feel less uncomfortable.”

An apology was on Harry’s lips at the charge, but then he cocked his head to the side, giving his father a considering look. “You’re the one changing the subject. And that’s what this is, so long as I speak the truth, or it can somehow be construed that it’s not my fault, my apologies aren’t allowed, right?”

Severus released his chin abruptly, exasperated. “Why do you feel a need to apologize so incessantly?”

“Why can’t you ever just let me?” Harry demanded.

“Because, there is no need for you to apologize for speaking the truth.”

“I wasn’t even apologizing for that!” Harry had no idea why he was feeling so irritated all of a sudden. “I called you an arsehole, you know. And a git.”

“You did not call me either one of those names. You simply said I had once been-”

“That’s still not something that most fathers would appreciate!”

“I did not appreciate it,” Severus said quietly.

That struck Harry a bit in the gut. “Then why don’t you let me apologize for it?”

“I was an arsehole, Harry. Many times over.”

“So?” Harry challenged, but he had deflated a bit with the squirming in his stomach. “I’m pretty certain most fathers are berks to their children at some point, but that doesn’t mean their sons are supposed to tell them so.” Harry really had no idea what he was trying to say.

Severus nodded slowly, his eyes slowly untangling Harry’s thoughts in a way that Harry couldn’t often manage. “And you wish me to act as any father would when his son calls him an arsehole, whether or not he’s referring to a past incarnation of said father?”

Harry stared at Severus. Well that was certainly a convoluted way of putting it! “Yes,” he finally exploded, feeling completely exasperated and ridiculous in about equal measures. What the hell sort of conversation was this, anyway?

“I would like to show you something.” Severus’ voice sounded strangely calm, but his disquiet was all Harry could feel. Severus gestured toward the portal. “Step through, if you would,” he directed. Harry, feeling very anxious did, and this time, he felt like he was wading through a vat of syrup to get to the other side. He waited nervously in his father’s old room while Severus ducked a little and stepped through after him. The portal shimmered out of existence. Harry would have been fascinated by that, if he hadn’t been wondering what exactly his father wanted to show him.

Harry looked around the room. The room was very stuffy, filled with expensive-looking decorations, and nothing that would have held the interest of someone Harry’s age, which would have been the same age his dad would have been when he’d last inhabited this room.

“Eileen decorated the room,” Severus told him, catching on to Harry’s thoughts. “She did not believe that children should be allowed to express themselves…” His eyebrows puckered. “I never asked if you would like to personalize your room. You may, of course, if you wish.”

Harry nodded absently; his thoughts had not left their conversation. “You wanted to show me something?”

Severus nodded. “My father’s study.” Confused, but intrigued despite himself, Harry followed Severus out of his old room and into the corridor. This was nothing like Sirius’ dank, dusty house. It was well-kept, and bright. And it was obviously well cared for.

“How long has your mother been sick?”

Guilt roiled between them.

“Since September.”

Peculiar, that. But Harry simply nodded and continued to follow his father down the slightly curved staircase. “Where are all the paintings?” he asked. It seemed odd that there hadn’t been even one chatty painting…or screaming painting, in any case.

“In the Portrait room.” Severus’ lip curled slightly at Harry’s confused look. “Eileen never liked the idea of a painting conversing with her.”

Harry could understand that. “This house is huge,” he murmured as they finally made it down the stairs. Severus nodded, turning them to the right.

“It will be yours someday, should you wish it.”

His father stopped walking; they were standing in front of one of the ornate doors in a long corridor opposite the staircase. He turned to face Harry, who was looking at his father in surprise. Severus smiled a little, his amusement swishing over Harry’s storm.

“You are my son, you realize. This house, by custom and by law, is already mine.”

“But your mother’s still alive.”

“She is not a Snape. It was passed into my possession, along with my father’s vault when he died. It is custom, of course, for the matriarch of a pureblood family to live with the eldest son, the usual inheritor of the estate.” Even as he explained, Severus opened the heavy door. There was a spacious office beyond, with a heavy-looking oak desk overtaking the middle of the room.

Harry looked around, wondering just what was hidden in here that could have to do with Harry’s childish wish for his father to simply be a father, as if that would somehow make all the mixed-up feelings go away. He didn’t really wish that though. He enjoyed his relationship with his father, even though they were nothing like a normal father and son—

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together as he watched Severus fingering a long strip of leather—it looked like dragon’s hide—hanging from the wall near the door. It was a deep, sparkling ruby red. “What’s that?” he asked; the tension in the room had heightened considerably, though Harry had no idea why his father should be feeling so—angry all of a sudden. “What’s wrong?”

Severus turned his head toward Harry as he slipped the red leather from its place on the wall. His fingers were clenching around the strip…and there was pain, so sharp in the air that Harry could almost taste it. “This,” Severus said flatly, his tone belying the emotions biting at Harry’s storm, “is what my father would have used if I had called him an arsehole.”

Harry’s throat had gone dry. Used? “You mean…he… ” Harry licked his lips, “…he hit you with that?” The last word rose indecently in pitch, no matter that Harry was trying desperately not to let his emotions loose. But his father simply nodded smoothly, as if he was completely unaffected.

“Either that or his most prized belt.” Harry shivered as his father’s voice went cold through; the flames were almost icy, but Severus wasn’t even looking at him now. The strap—that’s what it was, Harry realized now, was being crushed and twisted in his father’s fingers. Harry was beginning to feel sick as the loathing roiled off his father. Severus closed his eyes. When he spoke again, he sounded a bit hoarse. “There are many ways for fathers to treat their sons, Harry.”

“I know.” But Harry didn’t, not really. How could he, when he’d never had one? But he did understand that his father was afraid that Tobias lurked inside him...and that Harry could understand. And still this entire topic was bizarre, but he pressed on anyway, wanting to ease his father’s pain…if he could. “You aren’t your father.”

Severus’ eyes sprung open. “Aren’t I?” he asked softly, and Harry felt the tiny hairs along the back of his neck prickling. Severus’ voice darkened. “Black was correct. I did abuse you, just as surely as the Dursleys did…just as surely as my father abused me.”

“No you didn’t!” Harry exclaimed; it wasn’t the same thing at all. “You didn’t know-”

“That does not absolve me.”

“Then what does?” Harry heard himself asking angrily.

“Nothing.” The word was an icicle plunged between them, dividing them. Harry’s mouth snapped shut.

“Nothing,” he repeated dully after a moment of silence. “Then why did you bring me on this holiday?” he demanded. “You said you would try. If you’re so determined to never forgive yourself than why are we even here?”

Severus raised his thin, infuriating eyebrow. “My ability to forgive myself has nothing to do with whether or not we can take a holiday.”

“Yes it does!” Harry retorted, but of course he could think of nothing else to go along with that brilliant argument. Instead, he asked, “What does any of this have to do with why you can’t let me apologize?”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Severus sent the red strap sailing across the room. It slapped loudly against the oak desk; Harry flinched.

Severus turned sharply; he was looking Harry right in the eye. “For the same reason that I cannot manage to punish you. I’ve already punished you enough. And I have no wish to hear you apologize over something as trivial as a foul name, not when I will never be able to apologize enough to you.”

“Well, that’s just stupid,” Harry burst out before he could stop himself. “Well, it is,” he said stubbornly when Severus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I’d apologize to Draco if I was rude to him with no cause, you know, and the little twit almost got us killed.”

“Draco would feel entitled to your apology.”

Understanding, disturbing and clear, dawned over Harry’s mind. It is no more than I deserve… His father had said that when Harry had screamed at him after his fight with Pinth. And nothing had changed. Not a thing. Severus didn’t even imagine himself deserving of a simple apology.

So many things clicked in Harry’s mind, as hundreds of conversations swirled through his memories. So many times when his father had looked like he wanted to say something during an argument and had held back. Why his father had made his punishment after hitting Pinth anything but a punishment. He’d even agreed to different terms when Harry had pushed for it.

Even lying and eavesdropping hadn’t made any difference. Or making a general arse of himself for days on end, not to mention drinking. Of course, his father had said he wouldn’t tolerate a repeat of that, but somehow Harry didn’t think he could really believe it. Especially not after what Severus had just said. And somehow that made Harry feel…well, he wasn’t exactly sure how to term it, but he didn’t like it. At all.

Feeling defeated, he asked, “What’s next on your list?”

He felt immediate surprise at the question, followed quickly by suspicion. “You are willing to leave the discussion there?”

Harry shrugged. “You answered my question.”

Black eyes narrowed, the suspicion intensifying. “And you are willing to accept that I cannot simply forgive myself?” The question was rather biting, Harry thought, but he tried not to be offended by it.

“No, but It’s not like I can convince you that you should.”

Severus took a step toward his son; he laid a hand on his shoulder. “I did hear you, Harry,” he said gravely. “And I will endeavor not do anything to make you believe you are unwanted, no matter my own feelings.” His voice was so sincere; the warmth in Harry’s mind was unmistakable, and all Harry could do was nod. Even though his father was missing the point. But what could he say?

It wasn’t normal, this weird feeling that he should be so insistent on saying he was sorry, and what did it matter if his dad couldn’t bring himself to hold him responsible for his actions? Any of his friends would have been thrilled with such an arrangement…wouldn’t they? He could probably get into even more trouble than he had managed in the past five years, and just like before, no one would even care. But at the moment, the idea of finding trouble sounded about as unappealing as a dunking his head in a cauldron full of boiling bubotuber puss.

He smiled a bit at his father, who was watching him, and looking slightly wary. “Where are we going to eat dinner?” Harry asked, keeping both his voice and storm neutral. Unfortunately, it really wasn’t all that easy to fool his father.

“There is something else bothering you.”

Harry shook his head, ignoring the slight twinge that accompanied the lie; his father wasn’t likely to mind it anyway. “Thanks for trying.” He wanted to add, “even though I was a complete prat about it”, but what would be the point? His father would simply shake his head and tell him there was no need to bother with not being a prat, not for his sake anyway.

“If there is ever anything else that worries you, Harry, I would like you tell me, even if it painful to hear.” Severus squeezed Harry’s shoulder. Harry wanted to tell him everything that was worrying him, but he couldn’t.

“Yeah…I didn’t really know it was bothering me though,” he said with a little shrug. “So…dinner?”

Severus nodded briskly. “Where would you like to have dinner?”

Harry gave him a half-smile. He didn’t really need to consider that for very long. “Outside?” Though his father didn’t seem particularly surprised at the request, Harry explained, “The stars are rather peaceful.”

“Your mother and I spent most the summer before we were married, in a tent while we built our house.”

“Did mum like being out under the stars as well, then?” Harry asked eagerly, momentarily distracted. Severus nodded, turning back toward the corridor. Harry fell into step beside him.

“She insisted, almost every night, that I read to her, while we sat outside our tent.” Harry found himself wrinkling his nose at that.

“You read out loud to mum?” he asked. Sounded a bit soppy, that.

Severus nodded, looking amused at Harry’s critical tone. “She was particularly fond of Shakespeare. Ginny might enjoy a similar activity…though perhaps not Shakespeare.”

Harry doubted that somehow. Ginny didn’t really seem the sort of sentimental, mushy girl who’d make goofy eyes at him while he read poetry under the moon. But he didn’t say as much, wanting instead to hear about his mum.

“Aunt Petunia liked Shakespeare as well. I think she had some books that belonged to mum.” His aunt had actually threatened to burn said books when Harry had found them in the attic one summer. He hadn’t believed she’d really do it, but of course he didn’t want to take the chance, so he’d simply allowed her to box them up once more; he’d never ventured over to the dark corner where they were kept again. “Did you ever meet her?” Harry asked suddenly, realizing he’d often meant to ask.

“Yes.” The word was clipped, and Harry glanced up at his father’s pinched face.

“Sorry. We don’t have to talk about-”

But Severus was already shaking his head. “We may speak about anything you wish.” He paused, and Harry could feel him steadying himself, or more accurately, his emotions. “Your mother and I visited her family during the Christmas holiday during our seventh year. Petunia was…one of the most disagreeable people I had ever met.” He frowned. “She was most unkind toward Lily.”

“She always acted as though she hated mum,” Harry said quietly.

“She was jealous of your mother’s magic…jealousy is easily warped into hatred.” Severus’ regret was painfully obvious to Harry as they stepped into an overly large kitchen, but Harry had no desire to comment on it.

“I can understand that, I suppose.”

Severus stopped walking as soon as they reached an alcove near the stove. “Your mother hoped that her sister would be able to get past her jealousy. She was planning a visit to Little Whinging over the holidays…the year before she died. She hoped that you and your cousin might be able to be friends.”

Confused, Harry asked quickly, “But didn’t she know Petunia would hate me just as much?”

Severus was gazing at Harry with undisguised affection; it made Harry smile. “You are more like your mother than I realized, Harry. Lily couldn’t help but hope that her sister would eventually move past her jealousy. She, much like you, simply expected people to be good. And she was much too forgiving of them when they did not measure up.”

Harry grinned, liking the way his father said he was like his mum; it made him feel closer to her. “There’s nothing wrong with forgiving people, you know,” he said pointedly. Severus pursed his lips, though his flames were radiating humor at the comment.

“I believe I have heard a similar sentiment from both your mother and James.”

“James as well?” Harry asked with a smile. His father’s lips quirked.

“James was a very different person when he was no longer following Black’s lead.” Severus’ face stilled as soon as the words left his mouth.

“It’s all right,” Harry told him quickly. “Sirius was a bully to you. And I think I already knew that James was trying to impress Sirius…Sirius sort of has a way of affecting people that way.” He smiled wryly.

“You feel the same desire to impress him?” Severus asked, his eyes narrowing, obviously not liking the implications of that at all. Harry shook his head quickly.

“No…not in that way.” He shrugged. “I just meant that…well, he’s…” Harry trailed off, as a slow burn began to crawl across his cheeks. The last thing he wanted to do was tell his father that he’d always thought it’d be rather brilliant to be more like Sirius. Ron and the twins had practically worshipped Sirius as well. But no, there was no way in hell he was going to say anything of the sort to his father. Besides which, Harry wasn’t feeling all that charitable toward his godfather at the moment. “He’s a natural leader, I guess,” he finished lamely.

“Indeed.”

Harry didn’t miss the sardonic lilt to his father’s voice, which told him that his father hadn’t missed what Harry had been trying so hard not to say. And Harry could almost see a question about Sirius on the tip of his tongue, so he gestured to air around them.

“What are we doing in here?” They’d packed food, so there was really no need to be in the kitchen.

Severus didn’t answer. But just as he had on the beach’s wall of rock, he turned a bit and ran the tips of his fingers over the stone wall inside the alcove. Harry grinned as another portal opened.

“This house is brill,” he decided; much better than Grimmauld Place. “How many other secrets does it have?”

Severus’ lips lifted. “This particular portal is not a secret, but there are indeed many other quirks which you may find interesting.”

“Yeah? Will you show me?” The question was hardly necessary; Severus was already nodding.

“In the morning, if you wish, and while we explore, you can tell me about all of your own secret adventures over the past five years.”

Harry grimaced. “Erm…all of my…?”

“Unless, of course, you would prefer to begin our day learning the various Contraceptive Charms I intend to demonstrate before we return home?” Severus drawled with an airy wave of his hand.

Harry’s face flamed. “I…no…that’s…no.”

Severus smirked, giving Harry a little nudge toward the portal. “It is certainly your choice if you wish to delay it, although if you are hoping to delay it long enough that I will forget, I assure you…I will not.” His flames were fairly dancing with laughter.

Harry groaned as he stepped through the portal. Of course not. Of all the things his father could care about, he would have to choose that one.

Harry burrowed his feet into the damp sand; it squished pleasantly between his toes. He lifted his feet a bit and watched with a smile as the wet sand shivered off his toes in a sheath. “That Weather Charm is a brilliant bit of magic,” he commented, glancing over at his father; his toes were still encased in leather. “You’re not even going to take off your boots?” Harry asked, glancing critically up and down his father’s perpetually black trousers and long-sleeved shirt; at least he’d taken off his waistcoat, though he was sitting perfectly straight in the sand, while Harry was leaning back on his palms, his face turned up to study his father.

“You probably swim in your clothes, don’t you?” Harry teased. Severus gave him an amused glance, but didn’t deny it.

“I have not been swimming since you were young.”

“In your clothes?”

Severus didn’t answer, his eyes smiling in echoing amusement of Harry’s own.

But in all seriousness, he said, “I would not have worn anything that would have exposed the Mark.”

Harry nodded, suddenly regretting the teasing questions.

“I have no excuse, of course, for wishing to keep my legs covered…”

Harry smiled again, despite himself. “I won’t tell anyone if you take your shoes off,” he said, his voice rising in suggestion. Severus seemed to consider it. Then Harry watched as he removed his leather boots and socks, and laid them carefully behind him. Harry tried not to grin too hard as his father stretched his legs toward the lapping water. The water eagerly leapt toward its new target, submerging all of Severus’ long toes.

“We can work on shorter trousers tomorrow,” Harry said with a smirk. “And actually, I think people generally lie on the beach shirtless.” Severus slanted him a glance.

“Do not be surprised when I toss you into the water, with all of your clothes on, if you continue with these suggestions.”

“I’m wearing trunks,” Harry pointed out with a grin. He gestured to Severus’ feet. “Put your toes in the sand,” Harry instructed, digging his feet once more into the cool grains. “It feels good. It’s squishy.”

“Squishy,” Severus echoed, in clear distaste, but he obediently guided his toes underneath the top layer of drenched sand; he kept them perfectly still in their little sodden cocoon.

“I think you’re supposed to wiggle them about,” Harry told him seriously. “So you really get the sand in between each toe…like this.” He demonstrated, wiggling his toes merrily as the tide swished against his ankles.

Severus didn’t even bother to fight the smile that sprung to his lips at the look of concentration on his son’s face; the tip of Harry’s tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth as he studied the movements of his toes. He glanced up and grinned when he caught Severus’ smile. Without realizing he was doing it, Severus’ toes dug further into the sand; it was indeed squishy.

“Did you and mum ever go to the beach?”

Severus nodded, not missing a beat with the unexpected question. “We took you with us after you were born. James accompanied us as well. Albus secured a small beach, much like this one, for us to use on occasion.”

Harry thrust his toes upward, spraying sand into the air at the abrupt movement. He swished his feet back and forth a little, dragging a line into the sand with his heels. The water receded again; the make-shift trench caught some of it. Harry leaned forward and scooped the trapped water into his cupped palms, bringing some of the sand with it. The mixture leaked through his fingers.

“Didn’t James ever wish he had a family of his own…after all that time?” Harry shook the gloppy mess from his fingers. The question had licked at his brain for months now, swirling somewhere near the guilt and worry he’d never really acknowledged when it came to James.

“He never said as much,” Severus answered as he brought his toes carefully out of the sand. “I am certain he would have found much happiness, however, in a family of his own at some point.” Harry nodded, feeling uncertain, but not really knowing why. Severus cast two quick spells over his wet, sandy feet. Clean and impeccably dry, he tucked them under his legs. He turned his attention to his son.

“Your mother always and I eventually, considered James just as much a part of our family as the Weasleys consider you to be a part of theirs. In the end…I considered him a brother.” He hesitated and Harry knew what it cost him to continue. “That is why his supposed betrayal affected me as it did.”

Harry nodded again. He rubbed his palms against his thighs as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “Did James…did he consider you the same way?”

Severus didn’t answer right away; he turned his eyes to stare at the white, foaming caps of water in the distance. “I will never know for certain.”

“He must have…if he left you that message in the Pensieve. I heard it, that night.” As a confession, it wasn’t much of one, but Harry waited nervously for his father to respond.

“It is possible.”

Harry drew his knees up, frustrated. “He cared about you,” he said firmly. When his father didn’t respond, Harry scooted closer. “I know it’s hard to understand that he could, that any of us could, after the way your parents treated you…and after believing for so long that nobody ever did, but you have to stop thinking you aren’t allowed to be loved.”

Harry hadn’t expected any of those words to tumble out of his mouth, but he didn’t regret them.

“I believe you need to accept the same.”

Harry sat back against his calves, the wet sand on his feet immediately created two wet patches through the fabric of his swimming trunks. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you tell Black to leave?”

“Because he said he didn’t want to be stuck waiting around Grimmauld Place for me,” Harry answered before he could stop himself.

“Those were his exact words?”

“Not exactly…but he didn’t want to, that was the point.”

“I think it is likely that you misunderstood him,” Severus said, leaning forward just a little bit. “Which is my point. Whatever he did say, you immediately assumed it meant he did not care for you. Just as you believed Lupin would stop caring for you, simply because you treated him with disrespect. Just as you believe my desire not to discipline you, means I do not care enough. Who, after all, has cared enough to curb your penchant for finding trouble?”

Harry opened his mouth, automatically wanting to protest, but then he slowly closed it again. His father, plain and simple was one of the most infuriating people he’d ever met. Not only was he completely right, he’d also managed to steer the conversation away from himself, and Harry hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m claiming my topic. I wanted to talk about you, not me.”

“No,” Severus said simply, startling Harry enough that his mouth actually fell open in surprise. Severus went right on, “I am going to finally speak plainly about the topic we skirted around earlier…a topic which I have not wanted to broach, even with myself.”

Harry closed his mouth, but he was still staring at his father, feeling bewildered and more than slightly anxious.

“Do you know why I am so hesitant to discipline you?”

Harry didn’t know why, aside from his father’s rather ridiculous claim that he’d punished him enough. Harry nodded, resigning himself to another unnecessary discussion about how much his father had hurt him. “Yeah.”

Severus gazed at his son, his mouth set in a grim line. “Do you realize that it could have just as easily been you on the receiving end of that strap?”

Harry could do nothing stop the icy prickle spreading through his chest. “I…” There was absolutely no coherent thought to follow.

“My grandfather was every bit as abusive as Tobias. As was his father before him. For generations, the men in the Snape line have used that particular piece of dragon’s hide to ensure that their sons understood their place.” His voice was hard and unyielding, and his words made Harry want to sick up in the sand. He knew his father could sense it, but Severus continued on purposefully, “Before Lily, there was no question that my sons would receive the same lessons, with that same strap.”

Harry stared. He couldn’t possibly have heard that right. He tried to ignore the numbness spreading toward his limbs. “You…you wouldn’t do that…” His thoughts wouldn’t hold still.

With his eyes dark and turbulent, Severus asked, “Do you remember, that you were afraid, if only for a moment, that I would hit you, after you fought with Pinth?”

Harry couldn’t deny it, not when he’d admitted it that very next morning.

“I left you in the sitting room, Harry, so that I wouldn’t hit you.”

The tingling ache spread outward to Harry’s fingertips, where it settled. “You wanted to hit me, you mean?” he asked shakily, the urge to retch violently almost taking over. Severus shook his head sharply; he took both of Harry’s shoulders in his long-fingered hands, making certain that he had his son’s full attention.

“No, Harry,” he said so firmly that the words were actually harsh, “I wanted to keep you safe. But my unwillingness to strike you goes against every one of my instincts. I was conditioned to deal harshly with others, most especially with my child; a cycle of cruelty that I will not allow to continue any further.”

Harry didn’t know what to say; didn’t know how to respond to something so dark.

“Do you realize what it would do to me were I to lose control, even for a moment? If I were to physically hurt you? Nothing you will ever do would be worth the risk of losing control over my emotions. I cannot allow myself to ever become too angry with you.”

“But I…”

Severus pressed his fingertips into Harry’s shoulders, giving comfort and bringing Harry’s attention back to him instantly. “What purpose would it serve for me to be angry because you called me a foul name?” he asked quietly. “I, unlike my father, am well aware that anger and punishments will not force you to respect me.”

Harry stared at his father, feeling like he’d been boxed in the gut. A dull splatter of pain radiated from his solar plexus.

“You are sixteen, Harry and you are well aware of the difference between right and wrong.” He smiled slightly, and oddly enough, the expression wasn’t at all strained. “And I believe that you especially do not need to be disciplined for every mistake you make. You punish yourself far more effectively than I ever could.”

Harry nodded, not really in response to what his father had just said, but because he could think of nothing else to do. His insides felt raw and chewed up. The thought of his father having planned to hit his son day with that ruby strap…that he had to work so hard not to hit him now…

“All right…” What else could he say?

“All right?” Severus echoed, with narrowed eyes. “You have more to say on the subject.”

“I don’t,” Harry tried to deny, but it was clear his father wasn’t going to accept that.

“Enough evasion,” he said in the voice that Harry didn’t often feel like arguing with it. “Tell me exactly what is on your mind.”

Exactly? Harry glanced out of the waves; they were crashing noisily against the rocks again. “You said once that I obeyed you out of fear…do you remember that?” Silly question, really. “You were right…at least you were right then.”

“You had no other reason to obey me,” Severus said flatly.

Harry swallowed a bit, trying to allay the numbness in his throat. “But I do now.” He turned his head back toward his father. “I do respect you. I know you don’t believe me, and maybe it’s because you can’t believe me, but there isn’t any reason why I shouldn’t respect you. I know you now, like no one other than mum, and maybe James, has. I used to hope I’d grow up to be more like Sirius.” He smiled wryly. So much for not saying it; Severus didn’t react save his lips pursing together. “But now…well, now I’d take it as a pretty high compliment if someone said I was like you.”

Warmth spread through Severus’ flames, and Harry thought his father looked a little dazed.

“I had no idea you had to work so hard at overcoming your father,” Harry said thickly. His throat was throbbing again with emotions, in response now to the overwhelming happiness his father was feeling.

“Before I could even allow myself to indulge my feelings for your mother, I had to be certain that I could keep my father caged. It is not an easy task.” Severus reached a hand out toward Harry, and lightly brushed the few clumps of lazy hair away from his scar. “I would turn my wand on myself before I would raise a hand to you.”

Harry pressed his teeth tightly together, willing his tears to stay where they belonged. If anyone had spoken the same words, they would have seemed overdramatic, but Harry knew without hesitation that his father meant them. And it only made his respect for Severus grow—the ability to overcome the baser instincts which Tobias had punished into him was a remarkable testament to his father’s character.

He had a sort of quiet strength that Harry wanted to emulate. And Harry knew that he didn’t want to do anything to ever push his father to a point where he’d have to call on that strength to keep Tobias’ demons away. Harry wanted to tell his dad that, but his feelings seemed too difficult to put into words.

“I do realize that there are other ways to discipline you, Harry.” Severus continued with a grimace. “I have not performed well in that aspect of my responsibility toward you. In all honesty, I do not know that I am capable.” He frowned. “However, if that is what you need me to do, in order for you feel that you are well cared for, I will.”

Harry looked away again as he rubbed his clammy hands together. They were back in that bizarre territory again. “It’s not that…not exactly.” Honesty was exceedingly difficult.

“You wish to be normal.”

Harry’s eyes darted to his father’s face. He couldn’t deny it. Harry blinked in surprise when Severus caught his scrunched fingers in both hands; he hadn’t realized he’d been twisting them quite so violently.

“I am just as proud of your accomplishments as Arthur is of his children’s.” Harry’s heart swelled at that; it deflated and twisted just as quickly with his father’s next words. “And I was just as distressed as Arthur would have been if his son had described him as an arsehole.” Severus fingers curled around Harry’s. “Furthermore Harry, I was surprised by your behavior during the past few days, as any father would be. I had not expected you to demonstrate such callous disregard for your friends, or Lupin. Or for me,” he added quietly.

The words made Harry feel very small.

“It wasn’t because anyone took over my mind,” Harry told his father miserably, finally finding the courage to speak again. And for the first time since they’d discussed this, Severus didn’t immediately argue with him. Not having expected to be allowed to explain, Harry continued uncertainly, “Even if Sirius and Voldemort were affecting me, I knew I shouldn’t speak to Remus the way I did, or to you either.”

Severus was silent for long enough that Harry began twisting his fingers again, waiting for him to say something. “I have been selfish in my hesitation to hold you responsible for your actions.” Severus’ words were hushed as he stared at his son. Harry stared right back, surprised. “I am still unconvinced that you were entirely responsible for your actions while Voldemort had your soul. What matters though, is that you believe you are.” Severus let out a heavy breath; a sigh for anyone else. “And I should have given Minerva instructions to treat you as any other student.”

Harry could sense the hesitancy surrounding his father’s statement, as if he was waiting for Harry to resist the pronouncement.

But Harry wasn’t going to argue it. “Sirius and Voldemort may have been affecting me that night, but nobody made me drink firewhisky.” He hesitated, but he wanted to be as honest as his father was being. “I knew you wouldn’t approve…and I didn’t care.” He had to look away as he finished, “I was pretty angry with you.”

“You imbibed as a form of rebellion against me?”

Harry shrugged at the curious question. Honesty was overrated. “I probably wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been so angry with you,” he admitted finally. His eyes spun quickly back to his father as he felt Severus’ flames vibrating with humor. “Why is that funny?” he demanded. Severus shook his head, still clearly amused.

“You do not even realize how very normal you are,” he said, his eyes glinting with even more humor. “I had no idea you would wish to do something simply to irritate me.”

“I didn’t…” Harry cut off his protest, at his father’s raised eyebrow. “All right, I did, I suppose.” He shrugged sheepishly. Severus returned the gesture with his own half-smile as he pulled his hands away from Harry’s. His eyes turned serious.

“I trust you have no further plans to use firewhisky to irritate me?”

“No,” Harry answered instantly. He had absolutely no desire to irritate his father, not after everything Severus had said. Severus pinched his lips together as he considered his son.

“Harry…” He paused to glance briefly at his clasped hands before claiming Harry’s emerald gaze once more. Severus’ black eyes were full of apprehension. “...I have come to expect a level of maturity from you in your decision making. And I resisted your earlier explanations about the firewhisky because I did not believe you capable of such immature behavior. I am…disappointed that you made a conscious choice to do something that you knew you shouldn’t do.”

Shame coursed through Harry’s chest.

He swallowed, wishing he could pull his eyes away, but it would have been too cowardly. His father’s quiet words were entirely unpleasant, even though he wasn’t certain why. He wasn’t even being punished. But this felt much worse than when Severus had restricted him to their quarters after he’d brawled with Pinth.

Of course, Harry was aware that Severus had made an effort to punish him because he had wanted to act like a proper father; an attempt to allow Harry to feel like a proper son. It had been a rather botched attempt, since it hadn’t really been much of a punishment at all. It had actually been a badly disguised charade—the two of them trying to play the prescribed roles of father and son.

This was different.

This was Severus, disappointed in something Harry had done. This feeling was entirely new to Harry—the dull ache of loss his father’s disappointment caused. Harry found he didn’t care for it. But he accepted it anyway, knowing it was deserved. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his volume dictated by the swelling in his throat.

It was the only way he knew how to show his regret; he wanted to call the words back as soon as they left his mouth, knowing his dad wouldn’t want to hear them. But to Harry’s surprise, Severus inclined his head in acceptance of his apology.

“I will expect you to use better judgment in future,” Severus said quietly. He didn’t say a word about the consequences if Harry wasn’t able to meet his father’s expectations.

He didn’t need to.

Not when Harry wanted so much for his father to be proud of him; he didn’t want to disappoint him again.

Harry nodded when he realized Severus was waiting for something. Harry’s throat was too clogged to speak now, and he wasn’t sure what he could say anyway. Shame was still prickling his fingertips. What are you supposed say after your father tells you that he’s disappointed in you? He hoped his nod would be enough, for now.

Severus nodded crisply, though a measure of tension in his face remained, even after he’d turned to watch the waves. Harry, with his bottom lip firmly crushed between his teeth, turned toward the water as well.

The crashing waves filled the silence.

Severus finally spoke, his voice deeper than usual. “My disappointment in your behavior, changes nothing between us.”

Harry pulled his eyes from the water. Severus’ face had lost its tension, but his dark eyes were hesitant.

Harry hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. It gusted out of his chest. Trying to keep the atmosphere light, he asking with a half-smile, “You still love me, you mean?”

“Yes,” Severus said seriously, “I do.”

Harry hadn’t suspected otherwise, not really. But it was nice to have it confirmed, all the same. He could even accept that maybe it wasn’t childish to need to hear it. After all, it was nice for everyone to hear they were loved, wasn’t it? Feeling a bit foolish, but thinking his father needed the words just as much as he did, Harry said just as seriously, “I love you as well.”

It was the third time Harry had said those words out loud to his father, and as though he was hearing it for the first time, Severus’ flames sparked in pleased surprise. He nodded once, seeming to reassure himself that he had heard correctly, and then he smiled just a little. The uncertainty within his father’s reaction, made Harry want to ask if there was a portrait of Tobias in the house, so that he could give the prig a piece of his mind.

“Do you want to go in the water?” Harry asked abruptly, wanting to lay Tobias to rest, and itching to walk into the water, so he could feel the sand and water in between his toes. Severus eyed the water with a wary eye, but he nodded.

“If you would like.”

Harry smiled. “We can build a sand castle or something first. Ron said they used to do that when they went to the beach.” He cocked his head a little. “Did you and mum ever do that?”

Severus looked surprised at the question, but he nodded. He seemed to be indulging in a rather pleasant memory. “Your mother enjoyed building sand castles with you. You seemed to prefer destroying her work,” he elaborated with a smirk.

Harry smiled slowly. “I promise I won’t destroy this one,” he said solemnly.

“I am glad to hear it,” Severus drawled. “As I recall, I ended up with a mouthful of sand the last time you destroyed one.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked interestedly.

Severus nodded as he stood. He brushed the great expanse of black covering his chest and legs with precise sweeps of his fingers until there was not a grain of sand remaining. “You were incorrigible,” he said as he offered a hand to Harry. Harry’s lips began to twitch, but he didn’t take his father’s hand; his fingers were buried in the wet sand near the shoreline.

There was a muffled splat.

Severus’ eyes widened as he felt a damp weight against his chest. He looked down; soggy clumps of sand were scattered across his black shirt. Harry was trying very hard not to laugh. Severus narrowed his eyes. “Did you just throw sand at me?” he demanded.

Harry laughed. “I was just trying to recapture our last visit to the beach,” he explained between chuckles, spreading his hands in innocence.

“Your aim was off,” Severus told him dryly. Harry scrambled to his feet.

“No, it wasn’t.” He grinned as his dad’s eyebrows swept up in surprise. Harry gestured excitedly toward a spot that would be just far enough from the creeping tide. “Come on, Dad, you can help me figure out how to make Hogwarts out of sand.”

1978

Severus tried not to scowl as Dumbledore smiled at him. “Yes, sir,” Severus said thinly. “Thank you.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Please don’t hesitate to ask me, should you need assistance,” he said kindly. Severus nodded.

“I will, sir,” he agreed, not meaning it at all. He never did. But of course, the Headmaster smiled.

“That will be all, Severus. Thank you for seeing me.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” Severus said. The required pleasantries were chafing against his throat. Finally, Dumbledore nodded toward the door. Severus inclined his head and turned to leave.

As he pulled the door open, Dumbledore said softly, “I am very proud of you, Severus.”

Severus’ feet would no longer obey, and neither would his head turn to face the Headmaster. Severus swallowed. Some sort of expression of gratitude seemed appropriate, but the words would not come.

“Yes, sir,” he barely managed to say. And then, he left Dumbledore’s office as quickly as he could without showcasing either his cowardice or his panic. He didn’t wait for the staircase to deposit him at the bottom; he heard Dumbledore’s door thudding above.

It was no match for his heartbeat.

“Sev?”

Severus looked up in surprise, though he knew his face gave nothing away. Lily was waiting for him as he emerged; he was not used to her wanting to be near him, as often as she could.

Her beautiful eyes were crinkled in concern.

“Are you all right?” she asked, and if his emotions hadn’t been so reluctant to express themselves, he would have smiled at her. Obviously, it did not matter that his face had remained neutral. She knew him.

He took her hand as he stepped toward her. She smiled, her entire face lighting up as it always did, though he’d only noticed the reaction in the past few weeks…since the day she was supposed to have been spending with Potter.

“The Headmaster assigned another project,” Severus explained as he pulled Lily closer to his side. They walked together toward the door leading outside.

“He did?” she asked, surprised at that. Her nose wrinkled in irritation. “Does he still not trust you?” Lily turned to him as they began descending the stairs. “Did you tell him…about your father?” The question was very gentle, as if she was afraid that she would upset him. Severus nodded; the question did not upset him.

“I did.”

“But-” Lily began indignantly. Severus brought their entwined fingers to his lips. His concern on his behalf was touching—bewildering, but touching nonetheless.

“He asked me to take over brewing the Wolfsbane Potion.”

Lily stopped walking.

Severus gazed down at her as she tiltled her head up to stare at him. Her emerald eyes were wide with wonder. “Severus,” she breathed. And then to Severus’ unexpected delight, she stretched herself on her toes and gave him a happy kiss. No one else was about at this time of night, so Severus could not object.

Grinning broadly, Lily grabbed his other hand and began tugging him toward the lake as she walked backwards toward the trees which would conceal them for several more hours before curfew. Severus followed her, listening with a contented ear as she began explaining exactly why this meant that Dumbledore did trust him. He had already decided to tell her, when she was finished, that Dumbledore had even gone so far as to say he was proud of him.

It wasn’t until much later that he realized that Lily had never even asked him if he’d accepted the assignment. She hadn’t needed to. And that meant more—infinitely more than the Headmaster’s words had.

--

1996

“You really would have let me be on the Quidditch team…my first year?”

Severus directed his wand tip toward the far corner of the dark room; he tugged Harry’s elbow. Harry turned to follow his father’s silent direction. “Your mother would have insisted. She loved to fly.”

“Wouldn’t she have been worried that I’d fall or something?” Harry asked, twitching his nose against the tickle of gathered dust.

“Your mother was not a nervous person, in general. And she would have been very proud of your abilities. She often regretted not trying out for Gryffindor’s Quidditch team.” Severus gestured toward a tall door, which was now highlighted by his Lumos. “I would have taken you off the team your second year, the moment Draco attempted to knock you off your broom.”

Harry made a face at the memory. Watching as his father weaved a spell over the old doorknob, he said, “Well, at least I caught the snitch.”

“Yes. Lucius was most displeased,” Severus said with a scowl.

The doorknob clicked, and the wooden door squeaked open.

“I shouldn’t have testified for him.”

Severus sent a spell toward the center of the room; it erupted with light. Harry squinted a little as his eyes adjusted. The quick change in brightness scritched at the familiar headache barely burgeoning behind his eyes. The fresh air hadn’t done him much good at all, at least in that regard. Odd, since he didn’t feel tense.

“There was no way to know in advance that the tide would turn so readily in his favor,” Severus tried to reassure as they moved toward a table in the middle of the room; it was stacked with yellowing parchment. Boxes littered the floor.

“You told me how much support the Malfoys have in the Wizengamot though…I should have listened to you,” Harry said, feeling defeated by the entire process…and more than a little disillusioned by the workings of justice in the Wizengamot.

“Your actions are dictated by your conscience, Harry. You were attempting to repay him for saving my life.”

Harry shook his head. “My conscience isn’t going to be doing very well if he…” He shrugged; he wasn’t really too sure that Lucius could do much of anything now. “…if he tries to get the Death Eaters back together or something.”

Severus slid his wand back into his sleeve. “That is unlikely. Lucius had no desire to be a Death Eater after his initiation. He prefers the power of the Ministry.”

“Why did he join then?” Harry asked curiously as he absently fingered one of the faded pieces of parchment. Severus gently slid the parchment from Harry’s fingers, and set it neatly back on top of the stack.

“Most of those who joined Voldemort’s ranks had no idea what they were agreeing to. And very few had the stomach for what they found there. Lucius was no different, but once in, there was no way out,” he explained. “He told me, and I have no reason to disbelieve him, that he had been searching for a way out since before Draco was born.”

Harry nodded. His fingers were pressed against the rough table top, smudging the years-worth of thick dust. “How did you know though that he wouldn’t turn you in, when you decided to help him?”

Severus lifted a sardonic lip. “I did not decide to do it. I assisted Lucius on Dumbledore’s orders…though after I rediscovered you, I was much more willing to help him.” Harry smiled at that. “I knew he would not betray me, as long as he needed me to protect Draco.”

Harry didn’t have a response for that. The whole Lucius and Draco relationship was more mind boggling than Harry cared to think about. And with Mrs. Malfoy added into the mix… Harry shook his head to clear it a bit, and gestured to the parchment his father had so carefully placed on the stack. “Are those your recipes?”

Severus nodded. His fingers were resting very lightly on the topmost piece…protectively. Harry hid his grin and decided not to ask to see them. He turned to survey the boxes.

“Can I look through those?” he asked, pointing to a random box.

Severus smiled a little; his fingers lifted from the parchment. “You may look at anything you wish to, Harry.”

Accepting the invitation, Harry leaned forward. He peered, with squinted eyes, at the neat script on the first recipe. It was a recipe for something called Elixir of Hardiness. “Elixir of Hardiness?” he asked as he looked up at his father. Severus gave him a quizzical look and leaned forward as well.

“Happiness.”

“Oh.” Harry peered closely at the word again and nodded. “What is it?”

Severus didn’t answer. His head was tilted a little to the right as he gazed at Harry. “Do you have a headache?”

Harry brought his fingers up to his forehead reflexively. “It’s not quite a headache yet.”

Severus frowned at him. “You should not need to squint to read, not with your glasses on. When did you last have your lenses altered?”

Harry frowned this time. “Madame Pomfrey adjusted them for me before term ended.” He shook his head. “I was squinting?”

Severus pursed his lips in thought as he nodded. “She would have made certain the new ones were the correct prescription after Pinth destroyed the original lenses.”

“Er…yeah.”

There was a ghost of a smile in the black eyes at Harry’s lingering discomfort over that particular topic.

“If I may,” Severus said lightly, unfolding his fingers near the side of Harry’s head. Harry uncurled the earpieces from his ears and handed the glasses over. Severus slid his wand out again, and chanted a spell over Harry’s head and then with another quiet spell, he tapped Harry’s lenses with the tip of this wand. Golden shimmers waved over the glasses.

Severus silently handed them back to Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry said as he adjusted them over his ears again. He blinked a few times.

“Read the list of ingredients,” Severus suggested, indicating the same recipe. Harry leaned forward.

“Wow,” he said, making a face. “I hadn’t realized everything was so fuzzy before.”

“You are no longer squinting. Perhaps your current headache will fade now as well.” He paused. “May I examine the scar on your shoulder?”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched together, trying to figure out why they’d switched topics so abruptly. “The one from the Hogsmeade tunnel?” he asked, surprised. “Er…sure…why?”

“Testing a hypothesis,” was Severus’ mysterious answer. Harry, still confused, did as he was asked anyway, shrugging out of his left sleeve and turning slightly toward his father. He pulled the side of his lightweight jumper up a bit. Severus moved the material higher, and tugged Harry a little to expose his shoulder to the light. Severus ran his fingers along the shoulder blade. It was unmarred.

“It’s still there, isn’t it?” Harry asked, twisting his neck a little to see his father’s face; he looked...Harry wouldn’t have said 'excited', except that Severus did look rather excited. “What’s wrong?”

Severus dropped the fabric. “It is no longer visible, just like my own scars.”

Harry turned to face him. “How can it just be gone?”

“I can only hypothesize that the Veil affected you, in the same manner it affected Lupin and I.”

Harry straightened the hem of his jumper after he pushed his arm back through his sleeve. “But I wasn’t there.” They’d already gone over this.

“Your soul was there,” Severus said simply. “It seems not to have affected you as fully as it affected Lupin or I, since you still retain both Voldemort’s and Umbridge’s scars, but you have obviously been affected. It may account for your improved vision, as well. Your eyesight should not have changed so much in such a short time otherwise.”

Harry adjusted his glasses. “Why would the Veil fiddle with my eyesight?” He shook his head before his father could answer. “Never mind. I know there isn’t any way to know.” He sighed. It made no sense. “Maybe it tries to make you physically perfect?”

“My nose is still crooked,” Severus said with a self-deprecating wave toward his nose.

Harry considered his father’s nose. “Did you break it?”

“It was broken, yes.”

Harry didn’t want to ask.

“I would like to know if you experience another headache,” Severus said, smoothing over the moment of silence. “If you do, we may need to adjust our theory.”

Harry nodded in agreement. Oddly, he hoped the headaches were caused by something else. He didn’t like the idea of the Veil intruding on him like that. It reminded him too much of Voldemort, clinging onto his soul. He ignored Voldemort and turned back to his father’s old work table.

“So,” he said with renewed interest, pointing to the stack of parchments again, “how does your Elixir of Happiness work?”

Severus looked amused. “It is does not work. For the most part, these are failed experiments. There are a few formulations I worked on during the summers I lived here, that I would like to examine. They may have potential.”

“What are they?” Harry asked, leaning forward against the table again, and smearing layers of dust on his jumper. Severus rifled through the stack, and as if he still remembered the exact order of the recipes, he pulled one from the middle of the pile. Harry took it as it was offered.

“Curse…Repellent?” Harry glanced up at his father, trying to hide his smile.

“Mmm,” Severus murmured. “Not the most eloquent name, to be sure.”

“What is it?” Containing his humor wasn’t working. Severus gave him his raised eyebrow, and the grin cracked Harry’s lips. “Awful name, whatever it does.”

“It is as ineffective as the Elixir of Happiness, unfortunately. I was attempting to create a formula that would repel certain types of magic.”

Harry’s gaze swept over the list of ingredients. “Taker’s blood?” he read. He glanced up again. “You were trying to repel Dark Magic, then?”

Severus nodded, the glint in his eyes letting Harry know that his question had pleased him.

Feeling altogether more confident, Harry continued, “Remus told us about how each type of spell or curse has its own magical structure. And you have to use human blood in potions that use Dark Magic, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Severus answered. “Each witch and wizard has a unique magical signature. When a spell is cast, its magical structure changes to mingle with the magical aura of the wizard it is intended for. I was attempting to create a potion which would allow the aura to repel the curse.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Like two magnets.”

“Exactly.” The glint had turned into a full-fledged gleam.

“Are you going to work on it again?” When Severus nodded, Harry asked immediately, unable to stop the excitement in his words, “Can I help you?”

There was no surprise. “I would appreciate your help,” Severus said with a nod. “Your knowledge of Defense will be most useful for this particular brew. Lupin has been very pleased with your work in his class this term.”

Harry blinked. “You’ve been discussing me with Remus?” He shook his head. “My work in his class, I mean,” he clarified. Of course he realized that his father and Remus spent a great deal of time discussing him.

“Certainly,” Severus said as he carefully placed the parchment on the top of the pile—the place of honor now. “It is my prerogative, as your father.”

“Oh.” Harry had no idea why this bit of information should shock him, but it did. “Have you…”

“Spoken with your other professors as well?” Severus queried, his flames dancing with the familiar, silent laughter. “Frequently. And all of them are pleased with your performance. Though Minerva believes you spend too much time chatting with Mr. Weasley.”

“I know. She tells us at least once a week that she’d like to put a Silencing Spell on us,” Harry said, not at all chagrined by that.

Severus raised both eyebrows this time. “Perhaps you should simply stop speaking to Mr. Weasley during class time.”

Harry shrugged. “I could, I suppose. But Transfiguration would be a lot less fun then.”

“Your classes are not supposed to be fun, Harry,” Severus said mildly, though it was enough to make Harry’s grin disappear. Severus tapped the stack of parchments until they were no bigger than his hand. He tucked them into an inner robe pocket. In a more serious voice, he said, “Even though I suspect that you will be allowed to have any career of your choosing, you will find it easier to complete the work required of an Auror if you do well in your classes.”

Harry’s feet shuffled softly against the dirty stones. “Actually, Dad…I don’t think I want to be an Auror anymore.”

“Oh?” Severus’ relief was not hidden well at all, and Harry wondered briefly if his father was aware of it.

“I’ve been thinking about it, since…” Harry had to gather his emotions close before he could go on, “…right before Halloween, and especially since then. I don’t think I want to spend my life…surrounded by evil.” He looked away; the next words were very difficult to say aloud. “I don’t think I’m really made of the right stuff.”

A coward…that’s what he should have said.

“Harry.” The single word drew Harry’s eyes back around again. “You are not a coward. You experience fear, as we all do. A coward would not have been willing to die to protect the rest of the world.” When Harry didn’t react, Severus asked, “When you picture yourself an Auror, facing a foe, do you feel fear?”

Harry didn’t need to think about that. He’d pictured that particular scene hundreds of times. “No.” A pause. “I just don’t want to face any more foes. I’m tired of it.” He felt vaguely ashamed that he should feel that way.

“As you should be,” Severus said quietly. “I was actually rather surprised when you told me of your post-Hogwarts plans.”

“Yeah…I think the idea was actually loads more appealing because Umbridge told me I was unsuited to it. And McGonagall practically insisted…” He shrugged. “I didn’t really know what else to choose. And both Sirius and James were Aurors. Don’t you think I should want to continue on, destroying evil?”

“No. You should not have had to destroy evil at all,” Severus said with a frown. “Others will undoubtedly expect it of you, but you should not allow that to persuade you.” Harry nodded a little. At least his dad didn’t mind if he didn’t want to continue a legacy he had never wanted in the first place. “Do you have any ideas, now?” Severus asked curiously. Harry shook his head. “None at all?”

Harry gave him a crooked smiled. “Do you?” he countered. Severus didn’t smile, though he was obviously amused by the query.

“I had assumed you would wish to explore a career in Quidditch,” he said. “I am certain any team would be eager to have you as Seeker.”

Harry made a face. “I don’t want to be wanted by a team because I killed Voldemort.”

“You are one of the best seekers Hogwarts has ever seen, Harry. You would win a spot based on your talent, not your fame.” There was no lie in Severus’ voice, no indication that he didn’t believe it absolutely, and Harry allowed himself to bask briefly in his father’s praise.

“I’d have to do all sorts of dangerous stunts, you realize,” he finally pointed out with a teasing smile.

Severus nodded. “I would keep my wand at the ready,” he promised gravely.

Harry grinned, both because his father was perfectly serious, and because Severus had essentially just said he’d attend his matches. “I haven’t ever given much thought to the idea,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I’d want to make a career out of Quidditch.”

“You need not make any decisions now, and truly, Harry, you do have a considerable number of options. Any department at the Ministry of Magic would welcome you, including, if you change your mind, the Auror office.”

Harry considered his father. “Are you saying I should be an Auror then?”

Severus shook his head. “I am simply attempting to explain that there are many ways for you to utilize your talents. You might consider a position at Hogwarts, for example.”

“As a professor?” Harry asked in surprise. “Me?” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’d make a very good teacher.”

“I believe the members of Dumbledore’s Army would disagree with you,” Severus said. He turned toward a cluster of boxes before Harry had processed the statement. Severus flicked his wand and three of the boxes no longer sported tops. He pivoted a little; Harry was gazing at him thoughtfully. Severus gave him his familiar tiny smile. “You wished to see these?”

Harry nodded, bringing his mind back to this little secret room, which no one else, according to his father, had known about save one of the family’s house elves. He walked over to where Severus was waiting. Harry crouched down to get a better look inside the trio of boxes; he grinned. Two very familiar children blinked back at him, both of them holding brooms—the girl was grinning excitedly, her green eyes bright.

“You and mum,” Harry said with a glance at his father as he gingerly picked up the picture. “First year?” he asked. Severus nodded. Harry looked once more at the photo before handing it over to his father.

Severus gazed at the photo for several seconds. “I will make a copy for you when we return home.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a smile, happy he hadn’t even had to ask. He turned his attention back to the boxes. Two of the boxes, the one in which Lily’s picture had not been in, were mostly full of random oddments. None of its contents could have been considered worthy of being kept in so secret a hiding place. But it was clear that the contents of the first box Harry had opened would have been met with severe, and violent, repercussions if it had been discovered by Severus’ parents.

“You wrote this?”

“During my sixth year. Albus assigned it,” Severus explained as Harry settled out of his crouch to sit on the floor, with a thick sheaf of bound parchment in his hands.

“Assigned it?”

“He was rather insistent that I not follow my father’s teachings. He and several of my professors charged me with exploring all the reasons purebloods are not superior to other wizards,” Severus elaborated. “That particular piece of research took me three months to complete. Your mother and I spent many hours researching together in the library.”

Harry had no idea why that should make him feel like his throat had been scrubbed with sandpaper. He didn’t look up again as he asked, “May I read it?”

“Certainly. There is another one in that box. Entitled, ‘A Liar’s Rise’. You are welcome to read that as well,” Severus said. “I will warn you, however, that it is a bit graphic. Albus believed it would be beneficial to understand exactly what Voldemort expected of his followers.”

“Why didn’t Dumbledore try to help anyone else?” Harry had extracted the other bound volume. He looked up at his father expectantly.

“Just as my attempt to ‘help’ Regulus was ineffective, so were similar attempts by Albus. A person needs to have a desire to change before they will have a chance to succeed.”

Harry stood up, being careful not to let his father’s essays come in contact with the dusty floor. He brushed off the seat of his jeans with his free hand. “Do you think that if Sirius would’ve been sorted into Slytherin, he would have ended up like Regulus?” The question had been plaguing Harry for days now, but since he hadn’t wanted to talk about Sirius, he had kept it to himself. It didn’t seem like such a difficult conversation anymore.

“It is possible,” Severus allowed, resealing the boxes, but leaving them on the floor. He gestured toward the door; Harry took the lead. Once the heavy door was closed and locked, though no longer invisible, Severus spoke again, “Surrounding himself with people who despised the ideals of his parents would have made it easier to rid himself of their indoctrinations.”

They emerged from the darkened passageway below the house. Harry blinked rapidly as his eyes tried to adjust to the harsher light. There was a wild flapping sound, an angry screeching, and Harry felt his father’s fingers closing around his wrist.

The solid wall of rock met his back.

An anxious hooting met Harry’s ears as the spots cleared from his eyes. He grinned.

“Hedwig!” She was peering at him, perched on a tall, jagged rock. Harry jiggled his trapped wrist. “It’s all right. It’s Hedwig.” Severus didn’t release him.

“Yes, I recognize her,” he said curtly; he was looking up, however. Harry’s eyes followed Severus’ gaze. There was a bizarrely massive hawk circling above them. Harry’s breath gusted out in surprise.

“Oh…” Severus already had his wand out. He pointed it toward the great bird. In alarm, Harry grabbed his father’s arm—the one that held his wrist. “Dad! What are you doing?” Severus’ aim was steady, as if Harry hadn’t even touched him.

“Revalo,” he said calmly. The hawk continued to circle. Another spell; terser words this time. The hawk’s yellow eyes watched them. Severus spoke again, this time to Harry, “Do not move from this rock.” His fingers tightened briefly on Harry’s wrist, a warning which Harry understood perfectly.

He unclamped his fingers from his father’s arm and pressed his back against the rock. His wrist was released, and Harry drew his wand from his jeans. That hadn’t been part of the warning to do as he was told, but it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. He watched, his entire body alert, as Severus stepped out of the cliff’s shadow.

The hawk drew its neck in a little, as though it was relieved and then while Harry kept his wand at the ready, the predator circled lower. Severus waited, his own wand out of sight, but perfectly poised. The hawk continued in its lazy spiral, and then without warning it flapped its wings and soared from above the cliff with a piercing cry, and come to graceful stop in a flurry of beating wings.

It found a suitable perch on a boulder, far enough from Hedwig, that she only gave the hawk a quick look. She seemed unconcerned that it meant Harry any harm. She turned back to wait patiently for him.

The hawk, its topaz eyes locked with Severus’, settled its wings neatly against its feathered sides. Harry could feel his father’s caution as Severus kept a hand on his concealed wand. Severus stepped toward the intense bird. The bird almost looked like a statue. It was perfectly still, except its yellow eyes as they followed Severus’ movements.

And though he received no permission that Harry could see, Severus reached outward when he reached the hawk and then a flat rectangle was in his fingers. The hawk blinked once and then as mysteriously as it had come, it took flight once more. Severus watched until the anomalous bird was out of sight before turning back to Harry. He gave Harry a short nod; Harry slid his wand back into his pocket as he too stepped out of the shadows. Hedwig hooted, in excitement this time; she fluttered her wings, preparing to glide toward Harry.

“Tell her to stay where she is,” Severus ordered as he walked toward the snowy owl.

Hedwig gave an indignant chirrup.

“It’s all right, girl,” Harry soothed. “He wants to make certain you’re not bringing anything dangerous.”

Hedwig’s feathered head spun slowly; she blinked at Severus reproachfully, but she stayed where she was. Severus, looking rather amused, waved his wand toward the owl’s leg. Apparently satisfied, he nodded at her. She gave herself a shake, telling both of them just exactly what she thought of their precautions and then with another hoot, she flapped her beautiful wings and was perched on Harry’s shoulder a moment later.

“Ow!” Harry yelped as she nipped his ear. In response, Hedwig simply stuck her encumbered leg outward. With a rueful shook of his head, Harry obediently undid the small square package from her leg; it looked too small to be a letter. She ruffled her feathers again, clearly still annoyed. Harry reached up a hand and gently stroked her head. “Hedwig, I haven’t properly introduced you to my father, Severus Snape. He’s a bit paranoid,” he explained with a smile.

Severus gave him a disapproving frown. Hedwig gazed at Severus with interest.

“Dad, this is Hedwig,” Harry continued, still smiling as he watched his owl and his father sizing one another up. Severus gave the white owl a measured nod.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Hedwig,” he said gravely. Hedwig hooted softly, and extended her neck the tiniest bit. Severus took a step closer and ran his first two fingers slowly over her head and down her soft back. “My son’s safety is of the utmost importance,” he told her as he brought his fingers around to stroke her breast. She hooted again, this time more deeply. Severus gave her small smile.

Relieved that Hedwig had taken to his dad, Harry told her they’d get her some food as soon as they made their way back to the beach. Hedwig seemed content to ride Harry’s shoulder; she gave him another nip, this one gentler and Harry knew he’d been forgiven.

“Do you know who sent that hawk?” Harry asked as they turned toward the front of the house.

“Bavister Simon,” Severus answered without hesitation. “Would you like me to enlarge that parcel?” he asked, gesturing at the brown-wrapped square in Harry’s hands. Harry stopped walking.

“Simon?” he echoed, ignoring the question. “Why would he be sending you a letter?”

“It is for you,” Severus clarified. At Harry’s look of confusion, he explained, “Simon simply knew I would wish to examine it before I allowed you to have it. His hawk was most likely given instructions to allow me to receive it.”

Harry glared at the letter, though of course the parchment itself had done nothing to offend. “I don’t want it,” he decided. “I don’t want to hear anything he has to say to me.”

“I would like to see what Simon expects of you now, even if you do not wish to know,” Severus told him. Harry sighed and held out his hand. Severus gave him the envelope. Harry tore it open.

A light breeze ruffled Hedwig’s feathers, and Harry’s unruly hair, as Harry scanned the pretentious script. He was too astonished to read past the first paragraph.

“Dumbledore wants the Wizengamot to declare a mistrial, and Simon wants me to come back and tell Dumbledore to stop interfering!” Harry said incredulously.

Severus frowned. “May I see it?”

Harry gave the letter to his father, not even caring that he hadn’t finished it yet. When he’d finished, Severus folded the parchment into a square, the movements abrupt and angry.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked quickly; the sharp movements did not bode well for Bavister Simon.

“He suggests again that you might find more contentment with a more appropriate guardian,” he said in the voice that Harry hated; it was soft and dangerous…and full of suppressed fury.

“What?” Harry’s voice rose several octaves, but neither of them seemed to notice. Hedwig’s wings fluttered agitatedly. “And what do you mean, again?” Harry demanded, his brain finally catching up with his father’s statement.

“He made the same suggestion at your banquet,” Severus said.

“To you?” Harry sputtered, feeling strangled. Severus shook his head, his scowl deepening.

“To Scrimgeour. He made certain I would overhear.”

“He…” Words were failing him, especially as Harry was trying to think of a word foul enough to call Simon. “They can’t do that, can they?” he asked in sudden worry, forgetting to curse Simon.

“No,” Severus said sharply.

Harry stared at his father’s taut features. “You’ve already thought about this, haven’t you?” he asked slowly. “What you would do if they tried to claim you aren’t fit to be my father…because they think you were once loyal to Voldemort.”

“There is no need for concern,” Severus told him firmly, and not actually answering his question. Harry pursed his lips. At the telling motion, Severus drew a long breath through his nose and Harry watched as he steadied his emotions. “There would be no one to testify if Simon did attempt it, Harry.” He put his hand on Harry’s free shoulder, and as such contact always did, Harry felt himself relaxing a little. “I would never let it happen, and I do not want you to worry over it.”

Hedwig trilled her solid agreement and Harry couldn’t help smiling, despite his lingering anxiety. Severus turned to study the stately owl. “I would like to send a response to Simon, if you would be willing to deliver it, after you have rested,” he addressed her. Hedwig gazed at him expectantly, willing, it seemed, to help her boy’s new protector. “Thank you,” Severus said while Harry grinned. He never would have thought his dad would be one to talk to a familiar.

“What are you going to say to him?”

“I do not want him to contact you again. And I will make it perfectly plain that you have done what you agreed to do, in regards to Lucius. Miss Ridley will need to work a little harder this time.”

“It looks like Professor Dumbledore has more power than the Malfoys,” Harry remarked.

“Scrimgeour was not pleased with Simon. He may have been easy to persuade,” Severus replied. He indicated the parcel Hedwig had brought. “Do you wish to open it? A Shrinking Spell has been applied.”

Harry nodded, and drew his wand. He looked up once more at his father. Harry wanted to ask if he was certain that Simon would not be able to do anything to disrupt them, even though he knew there was no need to ask. His father wouldn’t just let him go, after all. Feeling more secure, Harry chanted an Enlargement Spell and the little square parcel became a large square parcel. Severus held it obligingly while Harry chanted another spell to cut it open. It was filled with envelopes, and there was a folded piece of parchment on the top.

It was from Dumbledore.

Harry, it began, I have several hundred more of these telling envelopes in my office, awaiting your anticipated return. As you are aware, the Order has been screening each one as a precaution. I received several owls last night, from various businesses, who are anxiously awaiting your response. I hope you and your father are enjoying your most deserved holiday. Perhaps the two of you will find an interesting diversion among this collection.

It was signed in a loopy flourish, Albus Dumbledore

Harry handed the missive to his father. Severus read it without a word, and then waited while Harry tore open the first envelope. It was addressed to The Most Revered, Harry Potter (Snape). Harry shook his head, half in amusement, and half in irritation. It was from Flourish and Blotts. They wished to discuss the exclusive rights to sell his autobiography.

“I don’t have an autobiography!”

“I have no doubt that you will find numerous offers from agents hoping to convince you to write one. If not in that box, then ‘awaiting your anticipated return’ in Albus’ office,” Severus told him dryly.

Harry smirked. Very probably. He put that letter to the side and ripped open another.

“I’m not even out of school.”

“Neither was Victor Krum until a year ago.”

Two more envelopes joined the crumpled pile.

“Do wizards allow bigamy?”

“They would probably make an exception for you.”

“For Twins?”

“If you wished it.”

“Urg.”

“Indeed.”

Three more envelopes were tossed aside.

“Ginny would hex them…or me.”

“Quite likely.”

“Why does an all-female Quidditch team want to pose with me anyway?”

“Imagine how many girls would buy such a poster, Harry.”

“I don’t want to imagine.”

“Best to refuse then.”

And finally an envelope with contents that didn’t make Harry want to cringe.

“Can we go?” he asked excitedly. Severus nodded, not even taking any time to consider it.

“We will leave directly after breakfast in the morning,” he promised. “That means, you realize, that I will need to demonstrate the Contraceptive Charms this evening.”

“Dad…”

Harry could tell his father was fighting to keep his features stern. He was utterly amused by Harry’s chagrin. “We will be busy all day tomorrow. There is no point in arguing, Harry,” he said, “unless of course you do not want to see Ginny tomorrow…”

Harry practically jumped with excitement; Hedwig squawked as she was jostled atop Harry’s shoulder. “Well, of course I do!” But then Harry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How do you know Ginny’s going to be there tomorrow?”

“Do you really believe Albus would interrupt our holiday simply to send you a box of fan mail?” Severus drawled, his eyes bright with anticipation. Harry grinned, but then his smile faltered a little.

“You don’t mind, do you? I mean this was meant to be our holiday, and I don’t want to muss it-”

Severus interrupted him smoothly, “This was meant to be a time for you to relax. Your friends are looking forward to seeing you.”

Harry’s guilt dissipated as Severus projected sincerity toward his wisp. “Wait,” he said suddenly. “Friends?”

“Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger have been invited as well,” Severus explained, looking satisfied as Harry grinned. Surprising both himself and Severus, Harry flung himself at his father; Hedwig didn’t even protest as she fluttered into the air. Harry hugged his father with all his might.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Severus returned the hug, feeling unabashedly pleased with himself. Harry’s holiday, thus far, had certainly been a success. And tomorrow would bring more of the same for his son; Severus would make certain of it.

1996

He couldn't sleep.

No matter how many times he rolled over, or how many different lumpy shapes he mashed his pillow into, Harry simply continued to stare at the murky darkness overhead. If he squinted real hard, he imagined he could see the roof of their tent; they'd spent last night sleeping on the beach as well. Harry had wanted to experience the camping trip they'd hadn't managed before Voldemort showed up at Riddle Manor. And except for the few hours before bed tonight, he'd enjoyed camping with his father. Of course, now he couldn't sleep...

He'd been mostly thinking of Sirius...though he was also spending a fair amount of time, trying not to think about Ginny. His cheeks warmed at the mere thought of seeing her again, and it wasn't the normal fleeting thought of anticipation and pleasure that usually coursed through him. Not at all.

And that was all thanks to his father.

Harry almost groaned in sudden remembered horror, though he managed to stifle it before it escaped. With an agitated jerk, he ripped the crumpled pillow from behind his head and smashed it unceremoniously over his face. Unfortunately, lack of air didn't really make the memory go away.

This time, Harry did groan but he figured it would be muffled by the pillow. He hoped so anyway. He didn't think he could stand to have his father wake up and resume their conversation. He didn't think that was very likely, but he didn't want to risk it either way. But even as he tried not to remember the conversation, it kept replaying itself in his head. No matter how hard he pressed the pillow into his face with his crossed arms.

"Harry, if you cannot bear the thought of discussing sex with Ginny, do you truly believe you are ready to have sex with her?"

"I never said I was!" Harry spluttered indignantly, and though his cheeks were already on fire from his father's previous suggestion, they burned even more now. Teach Ginny a Contraceptive Charm?! Was his father daft?

He would have liked to ask as much, but he bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself not to. Though if his father said sex one more time...well, Harry wasn't going to be able to restrain himself, no matter how hard his teeth gouged the inside of his cheek.

"Harry, there is no need for you to be embarrassed," Severus told him calmly, ignoring Harry's less than respectful retort, "this is simply a demonstration so that you will be prepared-"

"This is completely daft!" Harry finally exploded in a huffy breath. Well, at least he hadn't actually said his father was the daft one. "I never said I was going to...er...do anything!" Of course not. No matter what he wanted to do with Ginny, he wasn't going to admit it to his father, of all people. " Why are you so insistent on this?" he demanded, frustrated and blazing with embarrassment.

"Because," his father explained in that same relaxed voice, "I was sixteen once, Harry and no matter what your current plans are, I am aware that they might change before you even have a chance to realize they have."

Even through the crawl of heat on his neck and face, Harry could see the logic in that. He hadn't, after all, had any plans to do anything beyond kissing Ginny that night in the tower. He hadn't meant to allow his hands to roam toward Ginny's breasts; hadn't meant to brush his thumbs against the silky fabric shielding them. He hadn't let it go too far, of course. But he'd wanted to--he'd longed to slide his fingers underneath the restraining silk, to press them against the soft skin underneath--and maybe if Ginny had wanted it as well, he would have.

Maybe.

He sighed and abruptly cut off that train of thought. "All right," he conceded. He waved his hand vaguely, hoping his dad would understand that he wanted to get on with it, without his actually having to say it. Severus nodded, easily taking the cue. He pulled his wand from his sleeve.

"The incantation is, Etiam Sperma," he explained. Harry's hands twisted in his lap as his neck glowed. It took almost more effort than he had to keep his eyes focused on his father. "The spell will last until you cast Finite. If you cast anything in the interim, you will need to specify which spell you wish to cancel."

Harry nodded mutely, though he almost asked for a Cooling Charm; his clothes were stifling him.

Severus didn't comment on Harry's discomfort as he brought his wand arm up. And then Severus' wand was moving in a quick set of loopy spirals that were punctuated at the end with a rather alarming slashing motion.

Harry's eyes widened a little, which Severus answered with a wan smile. "The spell was developed by a witch with a bit of a tendency toward the macabre."

Harry thought his skin had probably gone a little pale, but he simply nodded, wanting to get this whole embarrassing demonstration over with. If he'd known what his father was going to direct him to do next, he wouldn't have been so eager. As it was, Harry barely managed not to choke on his own tongue. He couldn't even demand, "You want me to do what?!"

Severus nodded calmly as Harry goggled, his eyes calm, his features relaxed. "The spell will not damage you," Severus reassured his son. "Even if you cast it incorrectly, which you undoubtedly will the first few times, there will be no lasting harm."

Harry stared, wondering if a charm to test his temperature would actually read a fever.

"I will turn my back, Harry...or wait outside if you wish," Severus continued, gleaning the other reason for Harry's look of horror.

No, I prefer to be half-starkers with you right here, Harry almost snapped, but since he didn't really want to actually say the word, he bit his tongue. And at least his dad had sounded less than completely composed with that last remark. Oddly, it made Harry feel the tiniest bit okay with their conversation.

Harry cleared his throat. "How will I know...erm...if the spell...works?"

A slight pause was the only way Harry could tell his father really wasn't composed in the least. "I will perform a diagnostic."

A diagnostic...

That's it, Harry thought miserably. Maybe if I agree to make some sort of vow never to touch Ginny again, he'll just let me go to sleep. Merlin...nothing could be worth this. He was perfectly happy with the way things were now, and he could live with simply snogging Ginny...couldn't he? They didn't need to do anything else. After all, how much better can sex really be? Harry reasoned as his father waited for him to say he was ready.

It couldn't possibly be worth all this trouble.

It had taken more than a dozen fumbling attempts before his father was satisfied that he could effectively cast the charm. And Harry had almost caught himself on his zipper more than once, in his haste to finish with the entire humiliating debacle as soon as possible. But Severus didn't relent until Harry had demonstrated his competence three times.

"About time," Harry growled in frustration as soon as his father pronounced the session over. Flinging his wand down onto his camp bed in frustration, he simply flopped onto the rumpled rug and turned toward the taut fabric that created a slanted wall next to the bed. He pulled the rug rather forcefully up to his shoulder and lay there, staring furiously at the dark fabric.

He knew he was being immature, but he felt oddly out of control. It was stupid really; he wasn't angry at his father. At least he had no reason to be...

The light in the tent was dimmed then, and Harry heard the shuffle of footsteps beside the bed, and the quiet schlip of wood against the fabric as it was lifted up and then settled carefully on the little table near Harry's head. Harry's gut twinged with guilt then, as he listened to his father's unnecessary, and silent consideration. Inexplicably grateful--though he wasn't exactly certain what he was grateful for--Harry twisted his shoulder round a bit.

Severus was standing near the opposite bed, removing his waistcoat in preparation for sleep. Harry smiled a little as he watched him fold the garment with four precise motions.

Severus looked up.

Even though it was dark, Harry could sense an answering smile in the dark eyes. That somehow settled the most of the rest of Harry's furious mortification.

It was back full force now though, as Harry tried not to think about Ginny in the darkness. There was no way--no way in bloody hell that he was ever going to be able to perform that charm in front of Ginny. And that realization caused Harry a rather disconcerting mix of embarrassment and disappointment. He wouldn't sleep with Ginny without it; he knew that with alarming certainty. And if he couldn't even imagine performing a Conceptive Charm, with Ginny anywhere in the vicinity... Damn it, his father was right.

He wasn't ready to sleep with Ginny. He didn't really know why he was so disappointed; he hadn't really had any specific plans to anyway. At least...not at the moment.

With an abrupt movement, Harry whipped the pillow off his face. He winced as it knocked into the little table. The table, along with Harry's wand and glasses, toppled to the floor with a muffled thump. Harry glanced up quickly.

His father stirred in the near-darkness.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled as Severus propped himself on his elbows and squinted over at him. Harry leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve the fallen items; he had to twist one set of fingers into the bedclothes to stop himself from sliding onto the floor.

Harry blinked as light filled the room; it wasn't exactly sun-bright, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked in concern as he watched Harry righting the table. Harry laid his wand on the top, but kept his glasses in his hand, intending to put them on. He pushed off the edge of the bed with his arms and scooted backwards a bit before sitting up and glancing up again at his father.

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd--"

"Harry..."

Harry stopped speaking, a little unnerved by the unusually slow murmur. In a jerky movement, Severus sat fully upright; he swung his pajamas-clad legs over the side of the bed. Severus stared at Harry, his eyes narrowed as he studied him. Studied him, as though he'd never seen Harry before.

"What?" Harry asked, his stomach instantly transforming itself into knots. "What's wrong?"

"You...your face..." Severus shook his head, as though trying to clear jumbled thoughts. One of Harry's hands instantly went up to his face; he was even more unnerved by his father's stammering. Looking slightly dazed, Severus slipped his wand from his sleeve and waved it without a word. A mirror appeared in his hand. Harry took it as it was offered.

He stared at his reflection.

He watched as his reflection's dark eyebrows furrowed. A sudden swoop of panic began setting off alarm bells in Harry's head. "What happened to my face?"

"Put your glasses on."

Harry looked up sharply. "My glasses..." Harry's eyes widened as he realized they were still waiting in his hand. And that he could see his father perfectly well across the tent's length. He could even make out the tiny studious lines around Severus' eyes. His father's suspicions finally washed over Harry like a tidal wave.

Feeling like a drowned kneazle, Harry hastily shoved his glasses onto his nose. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed. "Everything's even blurrier than it was this morning." He ripped the glasses off again, and grinned. Perfect clarity. "Can you perform a diagnostic?" he demanded excitedly.

Looking rather dazed, Severus did as he was asked. He stared at his wand when he'd finished. "Your vision is perfectly normal. It seems the Veil affected you just as I thought it would." He sounded...awed.

Harry gripped the frames. With shaking fingers, he brought the mirror back up to his face. "Do you think the Veil's finished with me?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too wishful. He didn't want to hurt his father's feelings, after all. And really, he had no objection to looking like his father. He simply didn't want to not look like himself anymore.

"I suspect the Veil will be unable to complete the transformation, since you were not wholly within its influence."

Harry brought the mirror down again. "You aren't disappointed by that?" he asked, surprised at the satisfaction he heard in his father's voice.

Severus shook his head. "You look more like your mother now," he said quietly. Harry studied the mirror again, his eyes narrowed. He didn't though. Not really. He still looked very much like James, though some of his features--perhaps the ones that had already belonged to his father--were more obviously from the Snape line of genes. Harry found himself wondering if his father looked anything like Tobias.

His chin was definitely broader, Harry decided as he lifted it a little. And his nose, which had never particularly reminded him of James anyway, was perhaps a little longer. Just like his father's. Harry smiled.

"I look more like you."

Severus' eyes gleamed with unsuppressed pleasure. And Harry knew then that's why his father had been stammering. His comment about looking more like his mum had been self-preservation.

Harry slipped his glasses on again to compare; it was almost impossible to tell that his features had changed. The glasses simply made him look like Harry...and like James. Harry took them off again. The difference was remarkable.

Harry laughed as he set the mirror face-down on the little table. It made sense now. The Veil hadn't been trying to make them perfect, nor had it been banishing all traces of dark magic. "You think it was putting us back to the way we were meant to be then?"

"I believe," Severus said with small nod, "that it had more to do with returning those within its sphere back to a state of innocence. Without Voldemort's influence overshadowing our lives, you would have looked more like you do now, though without any of James' influence. Just as I would never have taken the Mark."

"And Remus lost his innocence when he was bitten," Harry added thoughtfully.

Severus nodded. "The Veil has obviously been attempting to complete its work on you since we returned."

Harry frowned. "Remus didn't have scars on his face anymore." Severus nodded, and Harry wondered if he had noticed himself. "And Sirius..." Harry continued after a pause and a sigh, "...it sounds odd maybe, but I noticed that he doesn't look so haunted anymore. And he almost looked younger, I suppose."

Severus nodded contemplatively. "The Veil's way of erasing his years spent in Azkaban." Severus narrowed his eyes a little. "You were reluctant to mention it?" he queried. "I thought I made it clear, Harry that you need not feel uncomfortable if you wish to speak about your godfather."

Harry set his glasses beside the mirror. How strange it was to not feel their weight against the bridge of his nose. "I know. And I'm not." He shrugged, his hands now restless in his lap. "I didn't want to talk about Sirius because of me, though." At his father's look of confusion, Harry elaborated, "I was really quite rude to him. He tried to apologize, but I was too angry--or hurt, maybe--to listen to him properly. I even told him I didn't want him around." He winced as he repeated it. Sirius hadn't deserved that. Sirius, after all, hadn't said anything intentionally cruel. Not like that.

Suddenly feeling wretched, Harry hung his head in his hands. "Can't I get anything right?"

"Harry, you simply allowed your emotions to guide the discussion, which is not surprising given your state of mind at the time."

Harry made a face as he brought his feet up onto the bed and crossed his arms loosely atop his drawn-up knees. He leaned his back against the fabric wall, which was surprisingly stable. "How long do you suppose it will be before I can't be called mental anymore?"

"I did not say you were mental."

Harry smiled at the affronted look on his father's face. "I was feeling a bit mental," Harry explained easily. The admission didn't really bother him much.

"I assume that means you are not any longer?" Severus asked, leaning forward a bit. Harry shook his head.

"Not really. Those exercises were really helpful...last night anyway..."

"Ah, yes," Severus murmured as he nodded. "Your inability to sleep. Is there anything in particular keeping you awake?"

Harry felt his cheeks heating a little. He tried to will it away. "Sirius," he finally said, and didn't feel guilty since it was at least partially true.

"Harry," Severus said impatiently, "Black will forgive you. You will simply explain that you were feeling out of sorts--"

"Mental again?" Harry teased.

"Out of sorts and that you did not mean you wished him to leave," Severus continued on as though he hadn't been interrupted at all.

Harry sighed; his good mood had evaporated. "I'll write him," he decided resignedly. But then he groaned. "You realize, don't you, that he'll go mental when he sees the way I look."

"I had not realized your vocabulary was so reliant on that one word," Severus said as his lips twitched. Harry frowned at him.

"Well," he insisted, "how else would you describe what'll happen when Sirius sees that I don't even look like me?" He scowled deeper. "Which, by the way is completely mental, the way it happened so quickly."

"My Mark and Lupin's blood were changed even more swiftly," Severus reminded him. "However, you are correct. Black will likely find the change disconcerting at best."

Harry snorted. "Disconcerting."

"You can hardly help the way you look, Harry."

"I can't help being your son either."

"No, you cannot. And if you remember, Harry, Black was not angry with you. Not once."

Harry pondered that long after his father had spelled the lights off again.

--

Harry felt the tug in his navel as the Portkey activated. He was pulled along with the dizzying rush of the Portkey's swirling currents, and then a moment later he was standing on dewy grass, with his father's fingers around his arm keeping him firmly upright.

"All right?" Severus queried softly as the world slowed its spinning.

"Yeah...thanks," Harry answered after a moment consumed with deep breaths. He nodded at his father's second questioning look before Severus dropped his fingers. Harry was steady by then, and rather proud of not meeting the soft grass with his nose. He looked around excitedly, knowing he was probably making a fool of himself with his wide grin, but it was hard to dwell on it.

He was standing in the Chudley Canons' Quidditch Pitch! And the team was flying above his head, going through some warm-ups, by the looks of it. One of the players paused, his broomstick pointing toward the ground.

"Harry!" The greeting had probably punctured some eardrums above, since Harry could hear it clear as a bell on the ground. The player began waving madly, even as he dove suddenly toward Harry and Severus. Harry's grin only widened. He waved back. And a moment later, Oliver Wood was hopping excitedly from his broom. "Good to see you, Harry!" he said cheerfully, his own grin matching Harry's. He grabbed Harry's arm and pumped it up and down.

"Thanks, Oliver," Harry said sincerely. Oliver glanced him up and down.

"You look different," he said thoughtfully. "What happened to your glasses?"

"I am testing a temporary Eyesight Enhancement Elixir," Severus supplied from beside Harry. Harry had a hard time keeping a straight face at that pronouncement.

The rest of the team was just hopping off their brooms when Oliver turned to Severus.

"Oh. Good morning, Professor," he said. He was still smiling, but his tone was much more reserved. Not unfriendly...exactly.

"Good morning, Mr. Wood," Severus said politely, inclining his head.

Oliver nodded before waving his teammates closer. "This is the rest of the team, Harry."

Harry didn't really need introductions, of course, since he and Ron spent hours poring over every available scrap of information available about Britain's Quidditch teams, and all the members of the Canons, except Oliver, had been on the team for a number of years. But he listened anyway as Oliver introduced everyone; he even shook a few hands. And all of them were smiling at him.

"And this is Harry Potter, as you all know," Oliver finished, but then he glanced quickly at Severus. "Well...it's Snape now, I guess...right, Harry?" He looked uncertain.

"Yeah," Harry said quickly. Then, since none of the team looked particularly upset by the correction, he added, "This is my father, Severus Snape."

The team nodded. The two Beaters had attended Hogwarts; they both offered a quiet greeting for their former professor. Severus greeted them in turn. One of the Chasers, a tall curly-haired blond named Owen August, grinned at Severus.

"Good to see you again, sir," he said, and he actually sounded it. Severus' nod was a noticeably warmer. It was no real surprise since he'd been in Slytherin, and graduated just before Harry had begun his first year.

"You are doing well, Mr. August."

August nodded, suddenly looking more serious. He smiled once more, before he said to Harry, "Glad you could make it, Harry."

"Thanks for inviting me."

August grinned. "Call me Auggie," he said with an easy smile. "Wood's been talking about you ever since he got here. We thought you might say yes to him. We had to see you play."

Harry smiled at Oliver, remembering fondly the older boy's days as Gryffindor's overly enthusiastic captain.

"I'll be retiring soon, Harry," the teams' Seeker volunteered with a sly grin.

Oliver colored a little at Harry's look of surprise. Oliver nudged his teammate, who simply continued to smile.

"You interested, Harry?" August asked eagerly, his eyes bright.

"Maybe you ought to see if you think I'm any good first," Harry said with a wry smile. "And anyway, it'll be almost two years until I can properly tryout." His smile turned smug. There. That would hold them off. He was just here to watch their practice, and later, their match against Puddlemere United.

But it seemed they weren't to be deterred. "You brought your broom though, didn't you?" one of the Beaters asked quickly. "You can practice with us."

The entire team was watching him expectantly. "Erm..." Harry gestured toward his father, who was watching him intently. "...I don't want to leave my dad all alone."

"I'm sure we won't mind keeping him company, Harry."

Harry spun around. Ginny, Remus and Hermione were standing before him, though it was Remus who had spoken. Ron had already attached himself to Oliver and was demanding introductions. His blue eyes were almost feverish. Harry grinned.

Ginny had him in a hug a second later.

He'd expected to at least feel some of the same embarrassment which he'd felt last night, but Harry felt nothing but happiness to see her. He dropped a kiss to her soft hair, breathing deeply as he pressed his lips against the smooth strands. She smelled good.

Ginny stretched up, and her lips grazed his ear. "Don't ask about Tonks." Momentarily startled, Harry snapped his eyes to Remus. Remus was handing a folded newspaper to Severus, looking perfectly at ease.

"They didn't make it up?" Harry whispered back. Ginny shook her head. She gave him a quick, and very chaste kiss on the cheek before pulling away. But then she was staring at him in confusion.

"Harry..." she murmured.

"Why do you need a glamour, Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly, her entire face scrunched up as she stared at him. Remus had turned toward Harry again; his brown eyes widened in surprise.

Harry stepped away from the team, who was still occupied with Ron's many questions. "It's not a glamour, Hermione," he said quietly. "It's a bit of a long story. Has to do with Remus' not so furry little problem though."

Hermione perked up at the riddle.

Ginny was still staring at him; her brown eyes had brightened, and Harry couldn't mistake the reason for her goofy smile. It made him flush with pleasure. He hadn't even wondered what Ginny would think of his new look.

"You're gonna practice with them, aren't you, Harry?" Ron had grabbed Harry's elbow, and he was staring at his mate with wide eyes.

"I-"

"Are you barking mad, Harry?" Ron demanded. "It's the Canons, Harry! The Chudley Canons, and they want you to practice with them." He shook Harry's arm insistently. "You've got to, Harry!"

"Well..." Harry hemmed, and then thinking it might be nice to actually use his fame for something good for once, he gazed at Oliver, with what he hoped was a pointed look. He needn't have bothered though. August stepped forward.

"Why don't you join us as well, then...Weasley, was it?"

Ron's eyes shone like two priceless sapphires. "You want me to play with you?" he squeaked. August smiled at him.

"Sure, Weasley. You're on the Gryffindor team, aren't you?"

Ron's head bobbed up and down. His grip became painful on Harry's elbow. "Harry! You've got to play now!"

"All right," Harry agreed, smiling at his friend. Ron beamed, but then his smile faltered.

"I don't have a broom though..."

Oliver waved him over. "We have extra supplies," he explained as he led Ron away. Ron's grin had returned.

Hermione was grinning as well, though at Harry. Harry shrugged self-consciously. He flushed when Ginny kissed his cheek again. Her grin matched Ron's almost exactly. The grin turned a little more...slow as she reached up two fingers to stroke along his jaw. The appreciation in her eyes made Harry very eager to have a few minutes alone with her...

He gave Ginny a kiss on her cold lips for good measure, which it seemed August watched with interest. Well, Ginny was very pretty, especially now, with her cheeks so invitingly rosy against the crisp morning air.

"He was so excited, he didn't even notice," Hermione murmured, and Harry was faintly nauseated at how indulgent she sounded.

Severus had already extracted and enlarged Harry's luggage. A quick spell set Harry's broom to rights again. He held it out to his son.

"Thanks," Harry said as he took the broom. "You don't mind, do you?" Harry had no idea why he would ask, but he felt slightly bad leaving his dad to sit in the stands.

"Have fun, Harry," Severus replied. And then he gazed at Harry expectantly, as if he was waiting for the fun to commence. Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Are you going to introduce me to your other friends, Harry?" August had moved close to his side. He was smiling at the two girls.

"Right," Harry murmured, feeling slight embarrassment at the gaffe. "This is Ginny Weasley," he said as he took Ginny's hand. He turned a little to Hermione. "And this is Hermione Granger. And that's Professor Lupin," he added with a nod toward Remus, while the girls and Remus gave August warm smiles. "Owen August. He's a Chaser."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you. It's just Auggie though." August smiled all around, before he trained his gaze on Ginny. "How about you? You play Chaser in the Gryffindor team, don't you?"

"It's my first year," Ginny told him with a nod.

"Would you like to practice with us?" His voice, Harry noticed uneasily, seemed to have dropped an octave or two, and he had moved slightly so that he was leaning toward Ginny's small frame.

Ginny glanced at Hermione, though Harry didn't miss the ways her eyes lit up at the question. "I really shouldn't leave Hermione-"

"I don't mind," Hermione interrupted. "I'd like to speak with Professor Snape, anyway."

Severus already looked resigned to it. Hermione obviously had been pondering the reason for Harry's new look, and was ready to pepper her professor with questions.

"If you're certain you don't mind," Ginny was saying to August. August grinned at her.

"Not at all," he assured her. He stuck his elbow out to her. "If I may?" he inquired formally. Ginny glanced at Harry, who by now was watching the exchange with a funny feeling in his gut. August glanced at Harry as well. "You don't mind, do you Harry?"

"Oh...no, of course not," Harry said quickly as August gazed at him expectantly. He did mind though. Especially when Ginny smiled at August and slipped her small hand into the crook of his arm. They turned toward where Ron was pulling a pair of gloves on, in the middle of the pitch; Oliver was holding Ron's broom. Harry watched them walking away; August's blond head was bent toward Ginny's as he spoke to her.

The funny feeling felt more like a slow burn now.

"Harry?"

Harry started. Hermione was giving his shoulder a nudge.

"Go on, Harry. They're waiting for you."

"Oh, right...yeah," Harry answered with a small shake of his head. He loosened his grip on his broom; his fingers actually had been starting to go a little numb. "I'll see you in a bit," he said to the whittled-down trio. Hermione smiled happily, but neither his father nor Remus seemed to have heard him; they were both frowning toward the middle of the pitch.

Feeling decidedly less enthusiastic about the prospect of flying with the Chudley Canons, Harry went out to join the team.

1996

"He's really beginning to irritate me," Harry muttered as he circled above Ron's head. Ron was scowling just as much.

"He's almost seven years older than she is!" he said indignantly. August was spending a lot of time near Ginny, not paying much attention to the game. Not that his performance seemed to be suffering for it--he caught the Quaffle every time it was tossed his way, and he had already put it through the hoop more times than either Ron or Oliver, who were both playing on Harry's team.

While Harry continued to fly, Ron dove back into the thick of the game. August was Ginny's shadow, just as he had been for most of the game. He leaned over from where he was straddling his broom and said something to her. Harry scowled; he narrowed his eyes as he waited for Ginny to respond.

Ginny frowned. She glanced at Harry and said something to August--her eyebrows were scrunched together, indicating her irritation. Her frown intensified as August shrugged. Harry, feeling a sudden and all-consuming urge to smash his fist into August's face, found himself heading toward August and Ginny--just in case...

Again, Ginny's lips moved and Harry wished he could hear what she was saying. Especially when August's mouth fell open, and his head whipped around to stare, wide-eyed, at Harry. Ginny turned her broom sharply away from August, moving to intercept a nearby Bludger.

August was still staring at Harry as Harry moved within range; August looked comically horrified.

Ginny took that moment to send the raging Bludger at August's head. His eyes grew enormous as he turned back to where Ginny had just been, and found the red ball sailing toward him instead. He jerked his broom handle. He wasn't fast enough; the Bludger smacked him in the arm, and his captured Quaffle flew from his hand. Ron, who had been flying suspiciously close to his sister and August, seized the lost ball and lobbed it--right through the other teams' hoop.

Ron's whoop of triumph quickly turned into a groan as Ginny and Harry shared a quick congratulatory kiss. "Oi! Leave off, you two," he shouted as he swerved back toward them, but the couple had already parted lips before the words had even left Ron's mouth.

"What did you say to him?" Harry asked Ginny through his grin.

"I told him I was your girlfriend, and when that didn't seem to make a difference, I told him I'm fifteen," Ginny said with a laugh. Harry felt a wave of relief he hadn't realized he'd been wishing for, at Ginny's rejection of the blond Chaser.

And then Harry saw a glint of sunlight on metal out of the corner of his eye. He dove toward it, moving to the left as he careened downward. He felt the familiar rush of air as the Canons' Seeker, Elliott, matched his pace.

Harry told himself that this was no different than the times he'd raced Malfoy for the little ball. But everything was different about this race. His opponent this time, moved with a finely-honed finesse. With an ease that Malfoy could only dream of--and one which Harry envied, even though he knew he was better at least than Malfoy.

But even though Elliott's flying technique was better, Harry was the one guiding the chase. Elliott was moving with him, matching each of Harry's spurts and angles. And Harry finally stopped paying attention to what the professional Seeker was doing beside him and gave himself up to his instincts. Adrenaline guided him onward, faster and faster, until Harry's fingers closed around the little golden ball--almost before he was aware he was so close.

Harry felt, more than heard, the cheer that rose up above him. And then realizing the ground was awfully close, Harry pulled up abruptly and soared back toward the sky, the captured Snitch held high above his head. Hermione and Remus were cheering as he got close to where they were sitting. Harry grinned as he caught his father's eye. Severus was smiling, rather broadly for him.

Well done, the flames congratulated.

"Thanks!" Harry called, and Harry couldn't have mistaken the pride in his father's eyes if he'd tried.

--

"So...you didn't mind?" Ginny asked with a teasing smile as she pushed against Harry's chest with her palms until his back was barely brushing against the wall outside the changing rooms. His chest was heaving with exertion. He caught a stray bead of sweat with the pads of his fingers before it careened into his eye.

"Mind what?" The words came out huskier than he had meant, but only, he told himself, because he'd just out-flown a professional Quidditch player--no easy feat. Ginny grinned up at him.

"Auggie, you goon," she said as she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

Harry made a face at the moniker. "Auggie," he repeated with a disgusted shake of his head. What a twit the blond Chaser was! He shrugged. "I couldn't very well say no."

"Of course you could have, Harry," Ginny chided him as she pressed her fingers a little more firmly into his chest. "I am your girlfriend, you know. You're allowed to mind if another man offers me his arm."

Harry scowled at that--off toward the pitch actually. "Man," he muttered, almost under his breath. Ginny's eyes sparkled as she laughed.

"Well, he is at least seven years older than me."

"I know," Harry said, still scowling into the distance. He trained his frown on Ginny then. "And why didn't you say something, then?" he demanded. "You weren't protesting, I noticed."

"He was just being a gentleman," she said, her brown eyes still dancing merrily.

"Oh, he was not," Harry retorted. "He was practically drooling all over you." He narrowed his eyes. "He was touching you!"

Ginny pressed her lips together and Harry had a suspicion she was trying very hard not to laugh at him. "He was helping me out of my cloak!" she finally protested.

"Yeah, well," Harry grumbled as he shoved his damp fringe impatiently out of his eyes. "No other bloke should be helping you with your cloak. That's my job."

Ginny's eyebrows peaked. "Is it?"

Harry shrugged, thinking maybe he should have been embarrassed by the possessiveness of the statement, but he wasn't. "Well, you know...unless you want to do it yourself." Just in case Ginny minded...

But Ginny smiled again. "I could do it myself," she said slowly, glancing down at her cloak-strewn arm. She hefted the material experimentally.

Harry's eyes strayed to Ginny's arm as well. Confused, Harry looked back down at her face, wondering why she didn't just put the cloak over her shoulders. She was watching him expectantly.

The invitation finally catching up with him, Harry smiled. He gently peeled the heavy cloak from her arm. He grinned as Ginny's smile grew. Had she been a girl like Cho, Harry felt sure she would have giggled. He was glad she didn't.

Ginny kept her gaze on Harry's face as he carefully shifted the black fabric over her shoulders, and then used the sides of his thumbs to smooth the fabric into place. Ginny's eyes were much more serious now.

Feeling suddenly very warm, Harry pulled the edges of the fabric together, and as he did, his fingers brushed against Ginny's collarbones. His thumbs came to rest in the mesmerizing hollow at the bottom of her throat. A flush stole across Ginny's cheeks, and without thinking about it, Harry leaned in and kissed her.

Her lips were fierce on his, though they felt just as soft and delicate as they always did. Harry brought his hands up to cradle her face so that he could tilt her lips at a better angle. Her tongue pressed forward as soon as Harry pulled her closer, and Harry obliged her request. Their tongues danced together, and Harry found his hands tangled in her hair as he tried to keep them occupied.

He almost gasped as her icy hands made contact with his stomach. A laugh bubbled out between their kiss. Harry pulled his head back. Ginny, flushed a beautiful apple-red, was grinning in delight.

"Think that's funny?" he asked, his voice low and deeper than usual--almost a growl. And not giving her a chance to answer, Harry slid his own frozen fingers under Ginny's jumper and grabbed her waist. She did gasp. Harry laughed and pulled her closer.

"C-cold..." she chattered accusingly, but she made no move to get away. Harry's heart began to beat faster as she leaned her body into his. Her breasts were pressed into his chest, just as they had been that night in the tower--

Ginny's hands ventured toward Harry's chest as she stretched up to take his lips again.

As he tried to concentrate on breathing, Harry's fingers tentatively spidered upward. It was odd, Harry marveled, that the terrain was so familiar, even though he'd only touched Ginny once before this way. Her skin was so soft...so smooth. Heat coursed through his body as his thumbs came to rest just underneath her bra. He knew her breasts were there, even though he wasn't touching them, not even brushing against them as he had before.

He wanted to touch her. He felt like he had to, or else he would explode.

But remembering his father's words in Grimmauld Place, and again only last night, Harry tore his mouth from Ginny's. This wasn't the place.

He stared down at her, his breaths sending out heavy puffs of white mist. Ginny's lips were slightly parted and even redder than her cheeks--almost crimson, and her little puffs of air were coming much faster than his.

She truly was beautiful.

He couldn't help himself. He bent his head to her again, and kissed her once more, his lips lingering until he needed air. And when he pulled back, Ginny was staring at him, looking a bit dazed.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, unable to help that either. Ginny smiled. She brought her hand up and traced Harry's chin again, and then she brushed her fingers slowly through his hair, before stroking down his cheek; Harry felt his pulse quicken again.

"You look...so different, Harry," she told him softly. "But the same as well. You look older," she decided. She used her lips to trace the path her fingers had just taken. Harry had to force himself not to let his hands move any higher. He kissed her once more. It was a slower kiss, but somehow much more satisfying.

"Come on," he said as he let his hands trail slowly down to her waist again. "We better get back before they come looking for us."

Harry was ridiculously pleased when Ginny's fingers left his skin just as slowly as his had. She seemed very reluctant to end their stolen moment, but she nodded. "You're a tease, you know," she complained as she fastened her cloak's clasp. She was smiling though and Harry had an irrational urge to cheer.

She wanted him to touch her! She hadn't wanted him to stop! But cheering that, while standing in a Quidditch Pitch full of both their family and friends, not to mention a bunch of strangers, didn't seem the best course.

"We have a date in Hogsmeade soon," he reminded her. She brightened at that. "I'm certain we can find something to do while we're there."

Her fingers stilled their combing motions through her hair. She wrinkled her nose at him, which made him smile. She had a very pretty nose. "That's all you want me for, Harry? A good snog?"

He kissed her very pretty nose.

"A very good snog," he corrected. Ginny gave his shoulder a playful shove as he leaned in to give her another kiss. "All right then," he conceded with what he hoped was a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose I'll take you to lunch as well. Maybe browse a shop or two."

"Oh, very nice, Harry," she said, failing spectacularly to make a face at him. "Will you require your snog before or after I dine with you?"

Harry pretended to think about it. "Ooof!" he grunted as Ginny elbowed him in the stomach. "All right, all right," he said, throwing his hands into the air. He smiled slowly. "After."

Ginny burst out laughing, the mirth dissolving the stern look she was trying to give him. She grabbed his hand, and their fingers tangled together effortlessly. Harry tugged her closer to his side and they walked without air between them, to where the others were waiting for them.

Ron had not even taken note of their absence; he was so intent on the Canons. Hermione was by his side, looking slightly bored. Remus was chatting with one of the Beaters, and Severus was watching the space where Harry and Ginny had just emerged from.

He was frowning.

Harry's gut swooped nervously as they moved closer, but their sudden reappearance lightened his father's façade.

"He was about to come look for us, wasn't he?" Ginny whispered.

"Probably," Harry murmured back. Remus smiled at him as they joined the group. Even August--the pretentious git--was smiling at them. And not specifically at Ginny, Harry noted with satisfaction.

"We're going to have a bit of a cool down," Oliver told them as they reached the group. "Rest up a bit before the match."

"We'll see you there?" the captain, a burly fellow named Styles, asked. Harry nodded.

"Wouldn't miss it," he said sincerely, and even though August would be a part of the team he'd be cheering for, Harry meant it. "Thanks for inviting me," he said, remembering it would be rude not to, though he made sure to address his gratitude to Oliver. "I'd forgotten how much I love playing." It had been too long, and he found he was quite looking forward to resuming practices with the Gryffindor team when they got back to Hogwarts.

"You're always welcome here, Harry," Styles said, reaching out a hand. Harry took it, and the captain shook it heartily. "And do think about playing for us," he added. "We could use someone with your talent."

Harry nodded again. "Thanks." Someone with your talent, he had said...as if anyone would have done. Well, nobody else would probably have been very flattered by that, but Harry was. He waved to Oliver as the team retreated to the changing rooms.

"Congratulations, Harry," Remus said. Harry smiled at his friend. "That was quite an impressive performance."

"Thanks." Harry tried not to let his guilt or nervousness show as he asked casually, "Did Sirius leave yet?"

Remus' eyes were shadowed as he answered with a nod.

"Did you not get to say goodbye?" Harry asked, wondering why Remus looked so sad.

"I took him to the Ministry," Remus answered, and the shadows receded a bit.

"Oh." Harry pulled Ginny closer to his side. "How--how was he?"

Remus shrugged, still looking more than a little unhappy--perhaps at the memory. "He wasn't in very good spirits," he answered honestly.

Harry nodded sharply. "Because of me."

"I think he was hoping to see you before he left, even though he knew he wouldn't."Remus sighed. "But no, not because of you. Sirius wanted to try to make things right with you before he left."

Harry couldn't pull Ginny close enough to make the pain go away; he wondered how much Sirius had told Remus about their last words. "I'm going to write to him. Maybe that-"

Remus was shaking his head. "He'll be in a secured location for weeks. A place which owls can't penetrate."

Harry was momentarily distracted from the disappointment of that news when he realized just how much his rift with Tonks must be affecting Remus--there was no other reason, that Harry could think of, for Remus to sound so depressed.

--

"They should have put Harry in the game," Ron groaned quietly to Hermione after the Canons, minus August and Oliver, had trudged dejectedly into their changing room, several hours later. The match against Puddlemere United had been exciting, even with the Canons' spectacular defeat.

"Wish we could have turned out a better performance for you, Harry," Oliver was saying; he apparently hadn't heard Ron's comment.

"We had a wonderful time, Oliver," Ginny assured him, her hand wrapped firmly in Harry's.

"We did," Harry agreed. Oliver shrugged and smiled a little.

"Well...I'm glad you did. You'll consider everything we talked about, I hope?" he asked. He gestured around the slowly emptying stadium. "It's really something, Harry. Doing this all the time."

"It's a long way off," Harry said noncommittally, though Harry could admit to himself that the idea did appeal to him. Oliver nodded, his disappointment clear.

"It's not so long," August spoke up. Harry found it hard not to glare at him. The fact seemed to register in August's eyes. He gave Harry a rueful smile. "You've got yourself a lovely girl, Harry."

Ginny stiffened beside Harry, and Harry could feel her drawing herself to her full diminutive height. "Harry doesn't have me, August," she said icily. "And," she added archly, her fingers winding even more tightly around Harry's, "it didn't seem to matter to you a few hours ago that Harry's my boyfriend."

August shrugged, his teeth flashing as he smiled at her. "It's Auggie," he reminded her, ignoring the rest of her retort. Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was calculating just how much the two adults would object if she were to turn her best Bat Bogey Hex on him; Harry was hard-pressed not to grin.

"You're a pig," Ginny told him instead, and Harry almost laughed. August grinned even more blindingly. And then he turned to Harry and stuck out a hand.

"No hard feelings, Harry?"

Both Ron and Ginny looked affronted at that, and even Remus' eyes showed his surprise. Before Harry could decide how immature it would be to refuse the conciliatory handshake, Severus said evenly, "I believe, Mr. August, that an apology might be more appropriate."

August glanced quickly over at his former Head of House. Spots of color appeared just below August's finely etched cheekbones. August's features transformed; his posture became more respectful somehow. "You're right, sir," he said immediately. He offered Severus an apologetic smile, to which Severus simply glanced pointedly at Harry. August turned to Harry, his arm still extended. "I do apologize, Harry." His gaze swept over to include Ginny. "To you as well. I can be a bit conceited, I suppose," he explained with a shrug.

Ron snorted. "You don't say," he said sarcastically. Ginny grinned at her brother; Harry couldn't resist a smile either. August shrugged, his smile more self-conscious this time. Harry took pity on him and clasped his hand.

"No hard feelings," he agreed. He wanted to add something along the lines of, 'As long as you never go near Ginny again," but decided Ginny wouldn't appreciate the sentiment--nor the machismo required to carry if off. August seemed to understand though.

He grinned, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. He leaned in a bit. "Understood, mate," he said quietly. Then he surprised Harry into silence when he murmured, "I owe Professor Snape a great deal; he's one of the bravest men I've ever met. You'll take care of him, won't you?" He held Harry's eyes for a protracted moment, during which Harry could only nod. August squeezed his hand as if to acknowledge a pact between them, before he let his hand drop.

"We'd better get into the changing room. Styles'll want to yell at us, I suppose," Oliver said, looking as if he was about to face one of Filch's marathon detentions. Ron seemed to find the statement hilarious, and had Harry not been so stupefied by August's quiet proclamation, he probably would have laughed as well.

"Right," August agreed. He turned back to Severus. "It was good to see you again, sir," he said.

Severus hesitated as he glanced at his son, and Harry smiled at his indecision in returning the statement. "I am gratified that you have continued on your chosen path," he said carefully.

"It was good to see you again, Harry...all of you," Oliver said, and then waved impatiently toward August. August waved cheerfully to all of them and then followed Oliver off the pitch.

"I can be a bit conceited," Ron mocked in a high, nasal voice once they were alone. Hermione shushed him as she smiled. Ginny grinned at him again.

"And a pig," Harry added, with a grin for Ginny. Ginny laughed.

"And he's so cheerful about it," she said as she made a face.

Remus cleared his throat. "I promised Professor McGonagall I'd have the three of you back before dinner."

Ron and Ginny groaned at that, but Hermione nodded. "He did," she told them prosaically. "And we all have homework to do." She gave Harry a hug before any more protests could be aired. "You're looking so much better, Harry," she said happily. Harry hugged her back, not minding her comment in the least. He was feeling so much better. Hermione thanked Severus for inviting them. Ginny and Ron, who somehow managed not to stammer, echoed the sentiment.

Remus took a chipped teacup from one of his pockets. Ron and Hermione each placed a forefinger on it. Ginny turned to Harry. Harry hugged her tightly to him. He kissed her quickly, keenly aware of the four pairs of eyes on them. Ginny squeezed his fingers once more before pulling away and touching the cup.

"Bye Harry," three voices chorused and then with a slight sucking sound, Harry's friends disappeared.

Harry adjusted his cloak around his body as the wind licked at him. Severus cast a Tempus Charm. "It will take a few minutes for Lupin to return, I should think," he said. Harry nodded.

"Thanks for inviting him to come to dinner with us."

"He seemed to be in need of company," Severus said simply.

"Did he say anything about Tonks?" Harry asked, shivering a little. The temperature was decreasing rapidly.

Severus cast a Warming Charm over both of them before answering, "We had very little time to talk. Ms. Granger was very interested in the particulars of the Veil's effects on you."

That made Harry smile.

"Lupin and I spent the remainder of the time, watching you in case you decided to answer Mr. August's challenge," Severus added, a slight frown on his face. Harry's smile disappeared. He couldn't stop the flush of embarrassment that spread across his face. Severus' lip quirked in amusement. "I could feel your discontent easily, even from that distance."

"I wouldn't have done anything," Harry told him indignantly. Severus' eyebrow rose, and Harry couldn't really argue with the doubt. He really wasn't so sure. If August had pushed enough... "August said he owed you a great debt," Harry said, as the Chaser's comments came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. "And he asked me to take care of you."

Severus looked startled. "Did he?"

Harry nodded. "He was in Slytherin, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was." Severus' face had paled a little bit.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly, "I shouldn't have-"

But Severus silenced him with a shake of his head. "It is not a secret. His family was attacked by Death Eaters--only days before Voldemort...left you with that scar." Severus' eyes closed briefly, but opened them again before he continued, "He and his grandfather were one of the few survivors. His parents and brother were tortured and killed."

"I was with the group of Death Eaters that raided the village. I was able leave and bring other members of the order back with me, but by then it was too late for most of the villagers."

Harry didn't think he'd be able to speak through the sick in his throat, so he didn't even try.

"Mr. August was a child at the time. I concealed him and his grandfather under a Disillusionment Charm. I tended him after Voldemort left--they had both been badly tortured. He didn't know I was one of the Death Eaters, but somehow he knew it was me that had saved him. He told Albus that he recognized my voice."

"I'm sorry," Harry said hoarsely.

"There is no reason to be sorry, Harry," Severus said gently. He put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I do not regret it. There were others who were allowed to live, in the same way--in other raids. They would have died had I not been there."

Harry gazed at his father, August's words penetrating deep within his chest. "August was right when he said you're the bravest man he's ever known."

Severus almost smiled. "I wasn't brave. I was simply there."

But Harry shook his head. "You were there to protect Mum and me. You didn't have to protect anyone else."

"I wouldn't have been able to face either you or your mother if I had not."

Harry understood. He nodded. "I'm sure Mum was very proud of you." Harry smiled as he managed to surprise his father for the second time. And Harry thought it was a very good thing that Remus' Portkey deposited him just then. Harry didn't think his father would have been able to find a response.

Remus looked between them. "Am I interrupting?" he asked worriedly. Harry shook his head.

"We were just discussing August."

"Ah," Remus said with a smile. "Quite a self-confident young man." He looked to Severus. "He was in your House, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Severus answered; for all outward appearances, recovered from his conversation with Harry. "Are you both ready?" he asked, changing the subject.

Harry nodded eagerly. Severus withdrew a quill from his pocket. Remus and Harry extended their hands, and in the next moment they were whisked away to the final destination on Severus' holiday itinerary.

1996 

Harry and Severus stood outside the Shrieking Shack with an uncommonly pale Remus. Remus was staring toward the cloudless sky. He'd been simply staring for more than five minutes now.

Severus finally broke the silence, his voice too loud in the cold, still air. "Poppy is waiting for us."

Remus' head swiveled around; his eyes looked a little glassy. He nodded slowly. "Yes, of course," he murmured, turning his gaze back to the sky.

But he didn't move forward to open the door, and he didn't turn around to look at either one of them. Harry and Severus waited behind him, so long that Harry glanced over at his father. Severus' features echoed Harry's worry.

It seemed like such a long wait, Harry actually jumped when Remus spoke. Remus' voice was uncommonly rough. "Thank you. I...I'll be all right now."

Harry stared at the back of his friend's head. "We said we'd get you settled, Remus."

Remus turned; the bitter wind had blown his neatly combed hair awry. It almost made him look...fragile. "There's no need." He hesitated, exchanging a look with Severus, which Harry didn't appreciate at all, but he made no comment. Remus gaze came back to Harry after a few seconds. With a sigh, Remus explained, "There are things that I would rather you not see, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to make of that statement, but Severus intervened. "He will think no less of you."

Harry forced himself not to react to the ominous words. He reached out and put his hand on Remus' forearm, though he had no idea where the gesture had come from. "I've already told you that I don't care if you're a werewolf." He almost looked away from the pain in Remus' eyes. "I'll understand if you need to do it alone, but don't go in there by yourself because you think I'll judge you."

Remus gazed at Harry for a long moment, and then with another brief exchange of eye contact with Severus, he nodded. He pivoted to face the delapidated door. After drawing in a deep breath, Remus pushed it open and stepped inside.

Harry glanced over at Severus again. Severus gave him a little nod as he motioned Harry to follow after Remus.

Harry fell in step behind Remus; he brushed his clammy palms against his jeans as they began the slow climb toward the upper part of the house. He wished he had some idea how to make Remus feel better.

They reached their destination in silence, except for their feet as they shuffled their way along the dusty floors. Remus barely paused this time; he pushed open the door at the end of the long corridor without hesitation. And then he stopped so abruptly that Harry plowed into his back.

Harry couldn't see anything beyond Remus, but Pomfrey's familiar voice said almost immediately, "I'm sorry, Remus. But she insisted-"

"It's not her fault. I had to come."

Tonks. Sounding anxious, and slightly breathless.

Harry stepped back from Remus, and nearly trod on his father's feet. "Sorry," he mumbled as Severus caught his arm.

"What are you doing here?" Remus asked quietly.

"I needed to talk to you, Remus," Tonks said, her voice equally soft. "Whatever happens here, it doesn't matter-"

"Doesn't matter?" Remus' voice was dull. He began walking forward again. Harry watched, with his father behind his shoulder as Remus went over to one of the walls, and squatted down. When he stood and turned around again, there was a large metal circle in his hands; a heavy chain trailed all the way back to the wall. "Do you know why this is here?" he asked flatly, addressing Tonks again.

Tonks was staring at him; her brown hair swayed as she mutely shook her head.

"For over thirty years, I've spent most nights of the full moon chained to a wall." He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing painfully along his throat. "On one of the nights that I wasn't chained here, I almost mauled Severus." The chain clattered to the floor at Tonks' muffled gasp. Harry felt Severus stiffening behind him.

Remus backed up against the wall. He closed his eyes as he tried to clutch his fingers against the surface. "When I forgot to take my potion one night, I tried to kill Harry," he whispered hoarsely. His eyes opened again. Tears were swimming in Tonks' eyes. "I told you, Tonks--I'm a monster. Please..." he begged roughly, "...just go."

His voice warbled out as he slid down the wall. His knees bent upward, and he dropped his head in his hands.

Pomfrey wasted no time in hustling a dazed Tonks out the same door Remus had just entered through. Pomfrey came bustling back through and giving Harry a sympathetic pat on his back, and fleeting smile for Severus, she ducked back into the room, and closed the door firmly behind her. A Locking Spell grated the air.

Harry could hear her making soothing noises to Remus.

"Harry," Severus said, his voice echoing slightly in the empty house. Harry tore his eyes from the door when he felt his father's fingers closed around his elbow.

"I don't want to just leave him."

"There is no other choice."

Harry nodded as the words sunk in. Severus withdrew his hand and Harry turned slowly toward the stairs. As they turned away, Pomfrey's muffled and distant voice could be still be heard. "...here to see you, Remus..."

Pomfrey's voice faded away as they trudged down the stairs.

Tonks was outside when they exited. She was sitting on a rotting log, her body hunched over her knees. Harry couldn't continue past her; he paused just in front of her. Severus stopped as well.

"Tonks..." Harry licked his dry lips. "...are you all right?"

Tonks looked up. She wasn't crying. Her eyes were dull now, instead of shimmering with unshed tears. "Is it true?" she asked, not looking like she actually wanted to hear the answer.

"Erm..." Harry hedged, but Tonks didn't look away so Harry nodded. "Yeah...third year."

Tonks turned to Severus. "All of what he said is true," Severus told her before she could ask. Tonks' let out a shaky breath.

"I love him," she said helplessly, staring at her clenched fists. "Why can't he understand that?" Her voice broke on the last word, but still she didn't cry.

"He understands," Severus murmured. The wind whipped his cloak around his legs. Tonks' eyes came up, but Severus was gazing at Harry, his eyes full of deep meaning. Harry's brow furrowed as he processed what his father was really saying--to him, not Tonks. She just happened to be there.

Tonks made a snuffling noise. "He can't if-"

Severus glanced down at Tonks' hunched form. "He is trying to protect you," he said, a touch impatiently, and like the intensity of his first successful Lumos, everything was suddenly much clearer to Harry.

His father didn't not understand love, not in the way Remus had suggested during Harry's faux detention--he understood it quite well, had been crushed because of how much he'd loved, in fact. And he didn't want Harry to experience the harshness of such a loss, and so he gave Harry every opportunity to say he no longer wanted this, before Severus inevitably drove him away. It wasn't selfish--misguided, certainly, and Harry was more convinced than ever that his father needed years of sessions with whoever was the wizarding equivalent of a therapist. But the intention was purely unselfish.

A weight dislodged itself from Harry's chest.

Severus' head came sharply around to study Harry's face. Harry smiled at the look of confusion on his father's face as he realized that his storm was gathered in a warm embrace around Severus' flame--Severus must have felt suffocated. Severus' features relaxed as Harry released the flame, though none of the warmth had diffused from the storm.

An acute awareness passed between them. Severus didn't smile outwardly, but Harry didn't need him to. He let his own smile linger for a few more seconds. And then he turned to Tonks.

He sat next to Tonks on her rotted log. Odd, but he felt no discomfort; he wanted Tonks to understand as well. "Remus loves you. I know he does," he said firmly. Tonks' brown eyes were blinking rapidly as she stared at Harry. "Just let him make it through the night."

Harry knew it was none of his business, but Remus had few friends--one of whom had gone off to become an Auror while Remus suffered alone. Harry stuffed away his irritation with Sirius when Tonks made a sound which Harry recognized as the beginning of a flood of tears. Harry looked up imploringly at Severus.

"I'll take care of her now. The two of you be off now."

Pomfrey was coming up behind them. She smiled at Tonks as she sat down beside her. She gave Harry a pointed look though when he didn't move.

"What about Remus?" he asked. She'd left him awfully quickly. Pomfrey shook her head and made a shooing motion toward the village.

"He'll be perfectly well," she assured him crisply. She didn't turn back to Tonks until Harry stood. "Now, Nymphadora, you and I will go have a nice cup of tea before you go home. There, there...no need to get yourself so worked up."

Harry glanced uncertainly back at the Shrieking Shack as he tuned out Pomfrey's practiced ministrations. He sighed. He hated the thought of leaving Remus all alone. Nothing for it though.

Harry turned with his father and they walked away together toward the village. It was pretty deserted, since it was so close to the dinner hour.

"Do you have any plans for your day with Ginny?" Severus asked as they passed Madame Puddifoot's.

"Not there," Harry said with a fervent shake of his head.

"You have been there before?"

"With Cho, yeah. As a date though...well, it was pants," Harry admitted with a grimace.

"I am certain you will fare better with Ginny."

Harry smiled at the pointed look his father gave him. Yeah... Whenever he thought about it, he always wondered what he had even seen in Cho. The entire relationship--if it could be called that--had been a disaster. Cho wasn't even as pretty as Ginny.

"Where does the secret passage end?" Severus asked after a moment. Harry glanced over at his father. He was smiling a little.

"Honeydukes."

"You do realize, I assume, that coming to Hogsmeade was exceptionally foolhardy?"

"I know," Harry answered, not looking away. There was no heat in Severus' gaze. "Remus really laid into me after we left your office." That memory still made him flush slightly.

"Yes, I imagine he would have," Severus answered. His eyes became serious. "If Albus ever tells you to do anything as ridiculously dangerous as using a Timeturner again-" He broke off and seemed to consider his next words. Finally, he said simply, "You are not to do it. Not without consulting with myself or Remus...even Minerva or Poppy in a pinch."

Harry stopped walking.

"But Voldemort's dead," he objected. "Why would Dumbledore have any reason to tell me to do anything?"

Severus frowned. "I am not convinced that there will no repercussions to Voldemort's defeat." As Harry bit his lip worriedly, Severus continued, "It seems unlikely that the Aurors would have been able to incarcerate every one of his supporters."

"But..." Harry glanced around them, "...shouldn't we be taking more precautions then?"

"I will not allow anything to happen to you," Severus said gravely, but Harry frowned.

"What if someone comes after you, though? A Death Eater who feels betrayed?" The thought made panic soar in Harry's chest.

"We will continue to take precautions. Just as we have been doing throughout our holiday," Severus said and continued along the street. Harry kept close to his side, feeling his muscles tense at the thought of some raging Death Eater with vengeance toward his father on his mind. "I expect you not to go off alone with anyone you do not know, nor would it be wise to take anything from an unknown person."

"Right," Harry said, nodding seriously. He didn't mention he wasn't quite that daft; his dad was only speaking out of concern. "Do you still think Simon is up to something?" he asked.

"He desires power within the Ministry, which would not happen were he to harm you." He pierced Harry with his black eyes as he added, "You are not to be alone with him, however."

"I won't," Harry said obligingly, giving his father an amused smile. Severus gave a low snort, which was possibly supposed to be more of a harrumph.

A young couple walking up the path stopped abruptly in front of them. She was gaping at Harry's forehead. She grabbed the man's arm and demanded excitedly, "Are you Harry Potter?"

"Snape," Harry corrected with a small smile. She looked confused. Harry sighed. "Yes, I'm Harry Potter," he said resignedly. The woman shrieked, making Severus purse his lips and Harry cringe.

"I knew it was you! I could just tell, you know? Your autograph?!" the woman cried excitedly. She began digging through her overly large handbag, and quickly came up with a quill.

Severus help up his wand, tip toward the darkening sky. "May I?" he inquired, making both man and woman quake a little at the dark question.

The woman nodded though, clearly wanting Harry's autograph enough to put up with a father whose protectiveness was in overdrive. Severus waved his wand over the quill, and then over the couple, uttering several spells. He finally nodded curtly.

Without warning, the woman ripped her blouse open and thrust her lace-covered breasts toward Harry, insisting, "Sign here!"

Harry's eyes widened, and his mouth flopped open.

"Miriam!"

The man hastily grabbed the sides of the flushed woman's cloak and hauled it closed. One fist kept the sides scrunched together, while his other hand grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

The woman, her black hair flying haphazardly, turned and flung her arm out toward Harry. She called out desperately, "Marry me, Harry!"

The man's pace became a half-run as he pulled the woman down the street. Harry stared after them. The woman was still shouting. "Miriam Hamm! Owl me, Harry!"

Harry's mouth finally snapped shut.

"Maybe I shouldn't come here with Ginny," he said when he found his voice. Severus said nothing, and Harry glanced toward him. "Why are you smiling?" he asked, and then flushed as the implication hit him.

"Because," Severus drawled, not seeming to glean where Harry's thoughts had strayed, "I placed a rather strong Sticking Charm on her blouse." He smirked. "It will be quite some time before she can display herself so wantonly to any other unfortunate young men."

Harry bit down on his lip, but the laughter burbled up anyway. "Oh," he finally managed. Severus gestured toward the path that would take them to Hogwarts.

"Shall we?"

Harry nodded, grinning at the look of smug satisfaction on his father's face.

--

Ron was just coming down the enchanted staircase as Harry and Severus entered the entrance hall. "Harry, you're back!" He greeted his friend with a wide grin, and a hard whack on Harry's back, followed by an only slightly less effusive greeting for Severus--and one that involved no touching.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley."

"Hiya Ron." Harry grinned in return, and then asked, "Where're Ginny and Hermione?"

Ron looked like he was trying to hide a smirk as he glanced quickly at Severus. "Detention," he answered as he fell in step beside Harry as he and Severus continued on toward the Great Hall.

"Detention?" Harry echoed. "What for?"

"Ginny hexed Elizabeth from Hufflepuff," Ron told the two stunned Snapes cheerfully. "Hermione hexed Elizabeth's friend."

Harry clamped his lips together, but it didn't help; he burst out laughing.

"Why?" Severus asked curiously; he was peering at Ron with unmasked interest.

"The two of them were making plans to ambush Harry as soon as he arrived," Ron explained. "Elizabeth made some sort of love potion. They were going to give Harry some chocolates with the potion inside." His face screwed up in thought. "Semper Amor, I think they said-"

"What?!" Severus suddenly roared, freezing all of the other students in their paths as he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the corridor. Ron looked delighted though and didn't even flinch.

"Don't worry, sir. Ginny burned the box of chocolates. Elizabeth and her friend are still in the hospital wing," he added, still grinning. Severus snarled.

"Dad? What's wrong?"

"Go eat your dinner, Harry," Severus said through his teeth; he looked murderous. And without another word, Severus pivoted around and swept up the stairs in a cloud of furiously billowing robes. Harry and Ron stared after him, but only for a minute. Ron grabbed Harry's arm.

"Come on, mate. Ginny and Hermione should be out of their detentions by now."

"But..." Harry sputtered as he gestured toward the stairs. "...what the hell was that about?"

Ron jiggled Harry's elbow impatiently. "He's obviously going to give Elizabeth one of his scathing lectures," he said without worry. "Probably give her detention with Filch until the end of the school year." He grinned. "Maybe he'll demand her expulsion!"

Harry shook his head in amusement. His father was every bit the overprotective mother hen. After all, how much harm could a student-brewed love potion do? "Yeah, all right," Harry said with a little shrug. He and Ron continued on to the Great Hall. Colin Creevey handed him a copy of the Daily Prophet before he even sat down.

"Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange were Kissed," he said excitedly. "Did you hear?" he asked, so eager that Harry wondered if Colin had been waiting impatiently for days to give this to him. The paper was dated the day after Lucius' first trial.

"Yeah," Harry answered, even though this was the first he'd heard about Pettigrew receiving the same fate as Bellatrix.

"It says the minister and some important bloke, Bavister Simon, insisted on it after they attacked you and Ginny," Colin's younger brother added breathlessly. "Is it true that you were both mauled by Pettigrew?"

"No," Ron said irritably as both Creeveys both pressed themselves closer to Harry. Harry extracted himself gingerly from Colin's fist on his sleeve.

"I don't really know anything more about it," he said with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry..." he mumbled as he and Ron backed further along the table so they could take their seats next to the other sixth years.

Ron and Harry rolled their eyes in unison as they plopped into their seats.

"...not on your authority though, Miss Weasley."

Harry spun his head around at the thick Scottish brogue. McGonagall was escorting Ginny and Hermione toward the Gryffindor table. Hermione was nodding obediently, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Ginny's face was flushed as well, but Harry recognized that it was from anger--she looked like she was trying very hard not to throw out another curse. McGonagall gave her a disapproving look.

"Unless you'd like another night of detention, Miss Weasley, I suggest you leave the matter to Professors Sprout and Dumbledore."

"Yes ma'am," Ginny said in a low voice, clearly not appeased in the least. But McGonagall nodded sharply, and made a dismissive gesture toward the other Gryffindors.

"It is good to have you back, Mr. Snape," she said shortly, with barely a glance in his direction before she swung away to the head table.

Ginny marched the three short steps to the Gryffindor table, and dropped down with so much force, the empty plates jumped; her hands were quivering fists on her thighs. Hermione sat down much more quietly, her face still flaming. She stared fixedly at her plate.

Neville and Ron glanced at one another, and even Dean and Seamus looked a bit worriedly at the two girls. Neither Lavender nor Parvati seemed to have any difficulty speaking. "You actually hexed her?" Lavender asked, her eyes round.

"I can't believe it!" Parvati added excitedly.

Ginny turned her blazing eyes on them. Lavender's smile faltered. "She was going to give Harry a love potion," she snapped. Parvati shrugged as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"It would wear off, Ginny," she said reasonably. She smiled at Harry. "It would have-"

"No, it wouldn't have." Everyone turned at Hermione's quiet words. She finally looked up from her plate.

"Of course it would, Hermione. Those sorts of potions never-"

"It wasn't one of 'those sorts'," Hermione interrupted haughtily, with a glare for Parvati. "She brewed an illegal potion--one that would have made Harry fall in love with her--permanently."

"Permanently..." Harry breathed. His and Ron's eyes locked over the expanse of tabletop. Severus' reaction suddenly made perfect sense.

Ginny's fists were denting her thighs by that point. "And McGonagall won't even do anything about it!"

"She didn't say nothing would be done about it," Hermione said quietly. "Only that it wasn't her decision."

Ginny scowled.

Food appeared on the table. The other sixth years lost interest in the conversation as they turned to their dinners.

Ron grabbed a steaming jacket potato, fumbling it in his hands with fevered, "Ah...ahs." He finally managed to drop it onto his plate. "I don't think you need to worry about Elizabeth any longer, Ginny," he said, not looking at her as he speared a piece of chicken with his fork and added it to his plate. "Snape was pretty steamed," he said, chortling a little at the memory.

Ginny's fists uncurled. She turned to Harry, her eyebrows drawn together. "How did he find out already?"

"Ron met us on our way in," Harry explained. "As soon as Ron told him the name of the potion, he flew upstairs in a bit of a rage. Toward the Infirmary, I guess."

A slow smile spread across Ginny's lips. She and Hermione exchanged significant looks, and without further ado Ginny's arms were around Harry's neck. "I really like your dad, Harry," she said against his cheek. Harry grinned and though he waited for the inevitable choking cough from Ron, it didn't come. Ron simply continued to munch happily on his chicken leg.

"Me too," Harry told Ginny as he put his arms around her back.

Ginny pulled her head back to look at him. Her brown eyes were sparkling. "Welcome back, by the way."

"Thanks," Harry answered with a laugh. He kissed her cheek and then they too were digging into their meals, while Harry filled his friends in on his holiday.

"What did you do today?" Hermione asked as she neatly speared a roasted carrot. "Did Professor Lupin continue on with you? Flitwick taught his classes."

"Yeah, he came with us. We went to Paris," Harry supplied. "It was my mum's favorite city. My dad took her there a few times before I was born."

Ginny wound her fingers in Harry's as she smiled at him.

"It was nice of you to take Remus," Hermione said with a warm nod. She lowered her voice as she glanced around. "How is he?"

"I'm worried about him. He's pretty anxious about it. And he's up there all alone."

"You'd have thought that Sirius could've waited a couple more days to go on to his training," Ron said around a mouthful of peas. Hermione elbowed him. "What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Professor Lupin probably told him not to worry about staying," Hermione said soothingly to Harry, but Harry shook his head. He'd already realized Sirius could have waited. For Remus. He'd been trying not to think about it. It seemed more selfish than Harry could have fathomed Sirius to be.

"I don't really want to talk about Sirius."

So they didn't. They carefully skirted around the issue. When the students began trickling out, a scroll popped into existence next to Harry's plate. His hand reached out automatically for it, but then he remembered his father's warning about strange objects.

It is from me, his father's flame tickled against Harry's storm.

Harry smiled. He undid the ribbon and unwound the scroll. He read it through before letting the scroll snap back in on itself.

All right, his storm rumbled in response. Severus' flame projected an instant's warmth before nestling back amongst the storm.

"My dad," Harry told his curious friends. "He said he'll be in the Infirmary for most of the evening."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged grins again.

"I haven't had a decent opponent for chess, for weeks now, Harry," Ron said, his eyebrows bobbing in excited suggestion.

"I've been playing with you, Ron," Hermione said archly. Ron rolled his eyes.

"That's what I said."

Before Hermione could retort, Harry stood and pulled Ginny with him. "You're on, Ron."

Ron grinned and popped up from his seat. "Brilliant!" He grabbed Hermione's less than enthusiastic hand and tugged her toward the exit. Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny's waist, and the two of them followed at a measurably slower pace. It was easier for Harry to steal a few kisses that way.

--

Harry sighed as he let his head fall against the back of the sofa, too many chess games, and not enough kisses later. He listened to his father's footsteps as Severus entered the sitting room.

"Tired?"

"Knackered," Harry mumbled, not even opening his eyes. "I'll unpack tomorrow."

"It is done."

Harry cracked an eye. He had to angle his neck back a little so he could look up at his dad. Severus was gazing down at him. Harry smiled at the affection in his father's dark eyes. "Thanks."

"You are welcome," Severus said. He raised an eyebrow at Harry's lingering smile. Harry closed his eye again and re-settled himself against the cushion. "You have a bed, you realize."

"Mmm," Harry murmured. "Too far..." He waved a hand dismissively.

"You flew for three hours yesterday morning, but now the twenty steps to your bedroom are too far?"

"Must be out of shape..."

"Perhaps you'd like me to levitate you?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Harry agreed with a lazy smile.

A low chuckle brought both of Harry's eyes open. "I believe our holiday may have extended for too long," Severus observed.

"I haven't gotten lazy," Harry objected through a wide yawn. "Just tired."

"All the more reason to sleep in your bed. You have class in the morning."

Harry groaned at the reminder; he'd gotten used to not going to class.

"I will assume your displeasure is for Minerva's class, and not my own," Severus said dryly. Harry smirked at that.

"Of course," he agreed. Severus gave him a mild glare, which Harry ignored. "Can I have a new partner now?" he asked as he straightened up.

"If you wish," Severus agreed; any trace of smile around mouth and eyes had disappeared. Harry shrugged, and then used one hand to massage one of his shoulders--he really did seem to be sorer than he ought to be.

"Well, there isn't any reason to act like we can stand one another," he said as he kneaded his shoulder.

"No," Severus agreed. He studied Harry for a silent moment. "Would you like a Muscle Relaxant?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm all right," he assured his father. He pushed himself to his feet. "I don't exactly regret trying to help Lucius." He stretched, trying to force the crinks out of his back. "But I sort of wish I hadn't."

Severus said nothing, and Harry sighed. "He was part of the raids on the villages that you were talking about, wasn't he?" He wasn't sure why he wanted his father to say no, but he found himself waiting anxiously.

"Yes."

Harry shook his head. "You shouldn't have let me help him."

Severus raised both eyebrows.

"I know," Harry said with a heavy breath. "You tried to tell me he didn't deserve my help."

"You needed to attempt it, however," Severus said seriously. "You gave Draco your word."

Harry frowned. He didn't like to be reminded. "So," he asked casually as they turned together toward the corridor, "did you have Elizabeth expelled?"

"Yes."

Harry glanced at him in surprise. "Really?"

"As Miss Granger undoubtedly informed you, she was intending to use an illegal love potion on an unsuspecting victim. She is lucky she does not find herself in Azkaban," Severus said. At Harry's shock, Severus questioned, "Miss Granger explained that its effects would have been permanent?" Harry nodded. "You would have been unable to love anyone else--not even Ginny. There is no cure."

Harry swallowed; it sounded even worse when it was put like that.

"I think it is even more important that you be on your guard, at all times," Severus continued as he followed Harry into his room. Harry sat heavily on the bed. "It is obviously not only Death Eaters that hold a threat to you," he said disgustedly.

"You're not going to say I can't go to Hogsmeade, are you?" Harry wanted to smack himself as soon as the whinging words left his mouth. But his father's presently harsh features softened a little. He shook his head.

"We will take precautions, as I said."

Harry nodded. "Thanks." He smiled. "It was a brilliant holiday. Thanks for that as well."

Pleasure flooded Harry's storm. "You are quiet welcome. I am pleased you enjoyed it."

"I did. And thanks for letting Remus come with us today." Harry flipped his robes off his shoulders and draped them over the nearby chair. "Do you think he's going to be all right?" he asked; the anxiety had stayed with him all night, even when he'd been enjoying his time in the tower.

"He will make it through the night."

Harry frowned at that.

"Would you like to meet him at sunrise?" Severus asked, sensing his son's growing worry. Harry brightened.

"Can we?"

Severus nodded, his eyes fully amused. "I will wake you in plenty of time, if you wish."

Harry grinned. "Remus will need someone there," he said with a decisive nod. Nagging anger at Sirius was shoved away as Severus nodded in agreement. The anger didn't stay away though, not even after Severus had gone to his own room. It permeated Harry's dreams as he spent a restless night, visions of romping grims and werewolves dancing in his head.

--

It was with crusted eyes and leaden feet that Harry made his way, with Severus, to the Whomping Willow--the sky was still dark.

"What if he doesn't come out this way?" Harry chattered; he stuffed his gloved hands into his cloak pockets. A Warming Charm crested over him. "Why don't they just charm cloaks with that spell?" he muttered grouchily into his maroon and gold scarf.

"It is not wise for Lupin to be alone either," Severus murmured, his eyes focused on the still branches of the magical tree.

They stood together in silence as the wind scattered fallen leaves across the brittle grass. Harry yawned as the moon dipped toward the skyline, and pink dusted across the sky. Harry's heart skipped a nervous beat as the hidden passageway slowly squeaked its way open. Remus, his clothes dirty and a bit mussed, emerged.

Remus smiled when he caught sight of Harry and Severus.

"Well?" Harry demanded, his stomach twisted in endless knots.

Remus beamed. "I'm free."

Harry whooped and Remus nearly toppled over one of the low branches as Harry launched himself into his arms. Remus was laughing as his hands thumped over Harry's back. It was the most care-free sound Harry had ever heard.

"As I expected," Severus said from behind Harry, the deep timbre of his voice telling much more than the simple words, but Harry wasn't listening anymore. He pushed himself abruptly away from Remus.

"Sirius?"

Sirius, his dark hair matted a bit from the trek upward, drew in a surprised breath as he emerged from the tunnel.

Remus dropped his arms from around Harry's back, his lips waffling between frown and smile as Sirius and Harry stared at one another.

1996

“Harry?” Sirius finally stirred. His eyes were searching Harry’s face. “You…what happened?”

Harry hesitated, not wanting to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over the little group. “The Veil affected me a bit,” he finally admitted. “My vision’s been changing since we came back…” Harry’s hands stretched against the lining in his pockets as he stared at his godfather. “…my mum’s charm was partially reversed so I look more like I was meant to…before mum used James’ genes to make me look more like him…” Harry clamped his lips together to end his babble.

Harry watched Sirius swallow, waiting for the explosion. “Oh,” Sirius murmured at length. He nodded briefly. “You do…look…a bit different, I suppose.”

Harry hoped he didn’t look as incredulous as he felt. That was all?

There was a rustle of movement behind Harry. Sirius glanced over Harry’s shoulder.

“Black,” Severus greeted flatly. Harry was little surprised when his father didn’t move any closer.

Sirius moistened his lips before responding in a strained voice, “Snape.”

Harry wished one of Hagrid’s more dangerous pets would come storming through their little group, though he doubted even that would ease the tension.

“What are you doing here?” Harry finally ventured when he could no longer stand the suffocating silence. Sirius’ eyes came back to Harry.

He gave a half shrug, slouching a little as he stood on the slope leading into the Shrieking Shack’s secret tunnel. “I couldn’t let Moony do this alone, could I?” Sirius tried a smile, but his lips didn’t quite make their mark.

“But…what about your training?” Harry glanced at Remus, who gave him a small smile. “I thought you couldn’t leave,” he finished, turning back to look at his godfather.

“I quit,” Sirius said simply. “It wasn’t much fun without James.”

“Oh,” was Harry’s less than brilliant reply. He moistened his dry lips.

“Harry, I…” Sirius began nervously, just as Harry said, “Sirius, I…”

They both stopped speaking abruptly. Sirius’ feet shifted along the little slope. “Yes?” he queried, gesturing for Harry to continue. The motion was awkward.

Harry had already decided what he wanted to say in the letter he had planned to write. But somehow, saying it out loud to Sirius made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. It was only Sirius’ anxious expression that loosed his tongue.

“I…was going to write you a letter-”

“You were?” Sirius straightened out of his slouch. A hopeful smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

“Well, yeah,” Harry said with a self-conscious shrug. “I…” He’d pulled his hand from his pockets; he absently tugged on the fingertips of his gloves as he tried to remember what he had wanted to say. “…I wanted to tell you I didn’t mean what I said.” Harry couldn’t stop staring at his bulked-up fingers. “You know…about not wanting you around.” He couldn’t say the rest without looking Sirius in the eye, so he raised his head. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius looked like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. He hoisted himself so that he was standing on standing on level ground. “You…don’t not want me around then?”

Harry stared at Sirius as he tried to puzzle out what his godfather had just said.

“You want him to be a part of your life?” Remus translated, his eyes dancing. Harry couldn’t help but smile at his friend before he turned back to Sirius.

“Of course I do,” he said quietly. “I never thought I’d see you again, Sirius.”

Sirius nodded jerkily. “I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have left without-”

“No,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “When you died,” he corrected. “I tried to cast Crucio on Bellatrix for killing you,” he explained, trying to make Sirius understand how much his death had affected him. Harry winced at the sharply indrawn breaths of both his father and Remus. Sirius’ mouth fell open in surprise.

“I was upset,” Harry said with a grimace. Upset didn’t really express his state of mind at the time. Devastated, would have been more accurate. “You’d just died,” Harry stressed, his voice embarrassingly hoarse.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Sirius said, his voice almost inaudible, even though he was only standing an arm’s length away.

Harry shrugged; he butted the toe of his trainer up against the unyielding earth. “And you know the stupidest thing?”

“What?”

“If I’d just opened that mirror, I wouldn’t have gone to the Ministry.” Harry tried to gouge a hole into the dirt. “All I had to do was open it,” he said disgustedly; a chunk of dirt flopped toward Sirius.

“You didn’t open the mirror?”

A heavy breath escaped through Harry’s nose. He shook his head miserably. So many things. He’d done just about everything wrong. “I broke it,” he mumbled. “After…”

--

Severus didn’t like that he was standing in the loose circle of Harry’s potential male role models. Especially as he was the only one who didn’t know anything about this mirror which was apparently at the center of the entire debacle at the Ministry of Magic. And to make matters worse, Black was sidling closer and closer to Harry—at any moment he was going to hug him.

Jealousy—it was such an insidious emotion. Severus didn’t reject it though, not like he had when it had been Lupin he was jealous of. Harry was his son, and now he understood that nothing was going to change that; this jealousy, it seemed, was simply to be a part of that.

Black glanced at Severus then, his entire posture uncertain. Obviously attempting to gauge whether or not Severus would object to the hug. Severus continued to gaze stonily at the reinstated Marauder; he would give him no assistance either way. Black looked away again.

“It’s all right, Harry,” he said to Severus’ distraught son. “It doesn’t matter.” He stepped closer. “I’m glad you told me though.”

“Why?”

Black smiled at Harry. “I thought you just didn’t want to talk to me.”

Harry’s incredulity was echoed clearly in Severus’ mind. “Why would you think that?” he asked, dismayed.

Black shrugged; it was one of the man’s more infuriating habits.

Harry shook his head slowly. Severus frowned; the gesture was very like the way Harry often responded to him.

“You’re daft, you know,” Harry said, and Severus was hard-pressed not to scowl. How could Harry be so fond of the mutt? That was the only word for it. And Black’s eyes actually twinkled at the statement.

“Is that so?”

Severus could practically hear Harry rolling his eyes. But then there was a long pause. “I’m glad you’re back, Sirius,” Harry said quietly, his voice much more serious. There were so many times I’ve wished for it and-”

Severus would have liked to comfort Harry, but Black took the one step necessary to bridge the gap between them and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, cutting off the rest of what Harry was going to say. It was just as well, Severus supposed morosely. He didn’t really know that he could stand to hear the entire sentiment anyway.

He watched until Harry took an awkward step toward his godfather before turning away; if there was to be a hug, Severus didn’t need to see it.

He stared at the towering castle walls. “Tonks would surely be eager to see you,” he said as Lupin came to stand beside him.

“She’s been on Malfoy duty since before the first trial,” Lupin replied, showing no surprise at having his footsteps recognized. “She won’t be off-duty until later this afternoon.”

“You are well-acquainted with her schedule,” Severus observed.

“I asked Molly to find out where she’d be today.”

Severus glanced sideways at Remus. Remus shrugged sheepishly.

“Thanks for coming so early,” he said after a moment of quiet, broken only by the muted conversation behind them.

Severus could have excused his own desire to ensure that Lupin was free from the dark agent that had plagued him for so many years, but it was unlikely that Lupin would believe it had been solely Harry’s wish to come. So he simply inclined his head. Remus smiled at the single nod.

Both men looked up as a winged shadow crossed over them. Hedwig was gliding gracefully toward them. Remus and Severus turned a little toward Harry, but the snowy bird began fluttering her wings too soon to make a touchdown near Harry; she came to rest gently atop Severus’ shoulder.

Hooting softly, and seeming to find nothing out of the ordinary in delivering a note to Severus, Hedwig extended her leg purposefully. Severus ignored his surprise, and simply undid the tiny scroll of parchment attached to Harry’s owl. He ran a finger once down her breast when she didn’t move. Satisfied by the small gesture, Hedwig hooted once more and with no excess show, the owl took off toward the dawn sky.

“Rather unusual behavior for an owl,” Remus observed.

It was indeed, but Severus did not remark on it. He unrolled the scroll, tied with one of Albus’ more colorful ribbons, and quickly scanned the missive.

“Albus is requesting a meeting,” he said to Remus as he tucked the scroll into his pocket.

“Has it to do with Harry?” the other man asked with concern.

“Simon is obviously much more invested in Lucius’ acquittal than either of us had realized,” Severus answered. “Albus’ patience with him has apparently reached its limits.”

Remus frowned. “Then you think Simon’s interest in Lucius extends beyond political gain? But he and Lucius aren’t acquainted on a personal level, are they?”

“Not that I was aware of, no,” Severus answered as he glanced back at Harry and Black, both of whom were propped up against the quiet tree, facing toward the lake; the hug, if there had been one, had been brief. Though they were obviously deep in conversation, judging by the intense look on Harry’s face.

“I’ll let Harry know you had to leave,” Remus spoke, breaking into Severus’ melancholy thoughts.

Severus nodded, unwilling to speak. He could easily let Harry know himself, but the interruption would undoubtedly make Black uncomfortable. If Harry had not been beside the mutt, nothing would have pleased Severus more than Black’s discomfort. As it was though, Harry needed to talk to his godfather.

“Be certain he does not miss breakfast,” Severus said gruffly.

“I will.”

Severus gazed at his son a moment longer, feeling an unwelcome realization that he couldn’t hold onto him forever. He turned away, toward the castle, leaving Harry alone to solidify his relationship with Black. He was well aware that Remus watched him go.

--

“Remus tells me you’re in love with Ginny Weasley,” Sirius said with a suggestive grin. Harry felt his lips sliding into the same slow smile that always seemed to grace his lips when someone mentioned Ginny’s name. “I see he was right,” Sirius said with a chuckle.

Harry grinned sheepishly at his godfather. “It was rather hard not to fall in love with her. She’s just…” He couldn’t explain though. “Well, she’s perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Harry,” Sirius said, still smiling. “It’s nice seeing you so happy.”

Harry nodded absently as he and Sirius looked out over the lake. “I guess I was a bit of a mess last year.”

“From what Remus tells me, you’ve been faring much better this term.”

Harry glanced quickly at Sirius; his face was perfectly at ease, so much so that Harry wondered if he knew his comment sounded like an invitation to discuss things which might be better left alone. “I have been,” Harry admitted cautiously. Sirius nodded.

“I wish I could have been more available…I should have been.”

“You couldn’t help it, Sirius. I understood.”

“Why didn’t you open the mirror?” Sirius asked after a moment of quiet.

Harry shrugged, feeling foolish. “I guess…I didn’t want you to get into trouble.” At Sirius’ perplexed look, Harry explained quietly, “Things were pretty bad for awhile, and I knew you’d come if I told you how miserable I was.”

“You were miserable?” Sirius echoed flatly.

“Sometimes,” Harry admitted, but that’s all he was going to admit.

Sirius jaw was fixed in a hard line as he stared out over the lake. “Petunia and her family really should suffer for what they did to you.”

Harry had no idea how that sentiment was connected to his difficult year.

“Fifteen year-olds aren’t meant to fend for themselves, you know,” Sirius continued, his gaze turning to Harry. “You should have told me things were so unwell with you.” He sighed when Harry had no response. “It doesn’t matter now, I suppose…”

Sirius straightened up against the tree. He turned a smile toward Harry. It seemed a bit forced to Harry’s eye.

“I hear you’re taking Ginny to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Harry didn’t even blink at the change of subject; most of the conversation had revolved around the safest topics.

“I am. We didn’t really have many chances for a proper date. I didn’t get to go on the last Hogsmeade weekend.”

Sirius’ smile became genuine. “Whatever did you do to earn yourself a detention on a Hogsmeade Saturday?” he asked curiously.

“Er…” Harry scratched his nose, while Sirius only grinned more broadly. “Well, I didn’t really have a detention,” he tried to explain. “My...” It seemed odd, but Harry was reluctant to call Severus by the title he had become so familiar with. But he didn’t want to upset Sirius, not now that there were speaking again. “It wasn’t safe,” he finished. Feeling as though he’d somehow betrayed his father, Harry glanced guiltily to where he’d left Severus with Remus.

Remus was walking toward them--alone.

Sirius followed his gaze.

“It’s just about time for breakfast,” Remus told them when he came close enough.

“Where’s my dad?” Harry asked as he pushed to his feet, and only realized after the words came tumbling out of his mouth that he hadn’t paused to consider Sirius’ feelings. He couldn’t help wondering if Sirius had cringed.

“Professor Dumbledore requested a meeting,” Remus answered. He smiled between his two friends. But Harry was frowning.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“As far as I know.”

Well, at least Remus didn’t look worried, but Harry still wanted to ask him if the abrupt departure had had anything to do with Sirius. Though, under the circumstances, it probably wouldn’t be a particularly helpful question.

“I promised your father you’d make breakfast,” Remus told Harry with a smile.

When Harry turned around to give Sirius a farewell, he faltered; Sirius looked uncommonly nervous.

“Harry, I…”

“Yeah?” Harry prompted.

Sirius shook his head; he smiled. “No, nothing,” he said with a shrug.

Harry tilted his head as he studied his godfather when it didn’t seem like Sirius would elaborate. “Do you want to come eat with us? I’m sure Dumbledore won’t mind.”

Sirius ran his fingers over his shirt front. “I’d scare the firsties.”

“I’ll see you before dinner, then,” Remus said to him. To Harry he said, “I’m going to go over to Tonks’ flat.”

“Does she know you’re coming?”

“No.”

“Think she’ll open the door?” Harry grinned when his friend scowled at him.

“I’ll be certain not to let you know,” Remus told him. Harry made a face at him, and Remus squeezed his shoulder affectionately, a grin on his unmarked face. Sirius watched the pair with a wary eye.

--

“I can’t believe he just quit, though! It’s the Aurors,” Ron was saying incredulously hours later, after he’d wolfed down three sandwiches.

“What is he going to do, Harry?” Hermione asked as she checked to make sure her Potions essay was in her sack. Harry shrugged as he glanced once more up at the Head Table. Severus had missed lunch, as well as breakfast earlier. Remus smiled at him as he pushed his plate away, and prepared to leave for his classroom. Harry returned the smile, wondering just what his father was up to that would keep him away from two meals.

“He just came back from the dead, Hermione. He doesn’t have to have something to do already,” Ron was assuring Hermione as Harry turned back to his friends. Ron swung his sack over his shoulder, and stood up from the bench.

“I know that, Ron, but he must have some sort of plan,” Hermione insisted, standing up alongside Ron. Ron shrugged; he took her hand, leaving Ginny and Harry to follow behind them.

“I don’t think he has any specific plans yet,” Harry said as they left the Great Hall.

Hermione’s wavy hair swayed too close to Harry’s nose as she shook her head. “That’s rather irresponsible.”

“His vault is crammed full of money…isn’t it, Harry?” Ron asked, turning his head back toward Harry.

“I don’t really know.”

“It must be,” Ron said knowingly. “The Blacks are an old family, just like the Malfoys.”

“Actually, Weasley, my mother is a Black.”

The quartet turned.

Draco, a friendly smile on his face, was walking toward them. Zabini, who seemed to have taken up for both Crabbe and Goyle, was beside him. “Your own family tree intersects with mine,” Draco continued helpfully.

“I know that,” Ron said irritably.

Draco nodded. “Of course,” he agreed before turning to Harry. “The Snape line is a respectable one as well.”

“It can be traced back even farther than yours,” Hermione informed him.

“Yes,” Draco answered, unperturbed by her observation. “May I have a word with you before class, Harry?”

‘Harry?’ Ron mouthed, followed immediately by a retching motion. Ginny didn’t quite stifle her laughter. Draco glanced at her, and Harry thought he could see a familiar flash of annoyance in the grey eyes but in the next instant, Draco was smiling again. He turned back to Harry expectantly.

“Sure, Malfoy,” Harry said cooly. Malfoy hesitated, but the plastered smile stayed in place.

“It’s a rather delicate subject,” he explained, with an apologetic glance for Hermione and Ron. Ron frowned at him.

Harry intervened. “Whatever you’d like to say, you can say it in front of Ron and Hermione,” he assured the Slytherin, whose smile was beginning to falter a little. He quickly collected himself.

“I was hoping,” he began in an unrecognizably friendly tone, “that you hadn’t yet made your plans for Saturday. I’ve agreed to escort Sara Coate to Hogsmeade.” He turned his smile on Ginny again when she made of noise of surprise. “She was hoping we could make it a double, since she assumed Harry would be escorting you,” he explained.

“You’re going to Hogsmeade with Sara?” Ginny demanded. “On a date?” she clarified when Draco nodded.

“Oh, certainly.” Draco smoothed his robes. “We’ve had it planned for ages.”

“What happened to Parkinson?” Ron asked suspiciously, and even Harry was eyeing the Slytherin with magnified mistrust; Sara was Ginny’s dorm mate and no matter what Draco said, Harry was certain that he hadn’t had a date planned with a Gryffindor for ages.

Draco gave Ron a rather superior look; a look Harry was used to. “That’s a rather personal question, Weasley. I’ll excuse your faux pas though.”

“If you want a favor from me, Malfoy-”

“Oh, it isn’t a favor, Harry,” Draco assured him quickly, with a sideways glance toward Zabini, who was watching the exchange closely. “I simply thought it would be fun. Especially since our girlfriends are already such close friends.”

“Your girlfriend?” Ginny echoed, her eyes narrowed. Draco raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, certainly,” he drawled. Both Ginny’s and Hermione’s lips twisted in distaste.

“Look, Malfoy,” Ron said pointedly, “if Harry and Ginny want to double, Hermione and I will go with them. They don’t need you.”

“Of course not,” Draco said congenially. “But it would be fun.” He smiled again at Harry. “Perhaps, we’ll see you there, then?”

“I suppose so,” Harry said slowly, caught off guard by Draco’s abrupt acquiescence; he’d been certain the sneaky Slytherin was up to something.

“Excellent.”

Harry gave Draco a hesitant nod of farewell as he turned to leave. But Draco and Zabini fell in step beside him. Draco didn’t seem to notice when Harry glanced at him surprise.

“Too bad whatever your mother did to you, didn’t wear off sooner,” Zabini remarked to Harry as they walked. “At least you look like a proper pureblood now.”

“The Potters are purebloods,” Hermione said tersely.

Zabini shrugged. “So is your boyfriend,” he said pointedly.

“Well,” Draco said, a shade too loudly as all four Gryffindors turned to glare at Zabini, “that hardly matters now, isn’t that so?”

“It’s always mattered to you, Malfoy,” Ron said through his teeth.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Draco said with a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Now, we best be on our way. We wouldn’t want Ginny to be late for class, now would we?”

And because it looked like Draco would take Ginny’s arm and usher her toward her destination, Harry picked up the pace. He exchanged looks with Ginny; she looked just as bewildered as he felt. Even though it seemed perfectly obvious that Draco was still parlaying for Harry’s support of Lucius, he’d never gone about it in quite this manner; it was a more than a little disturbing.

When they reached Ginny’s classroom a moment later, Draco gave her a smile that could only be called charming.

“See you after class, Ginny,” he said cheerfully. “Be sure to give my regards to Sara, won’t you?”

“I’ll be sure to do that, Malfoy,” Ginny agreed sarcastically, and then she pressed her lips quickly against Harry’s cheek and went into her class, straight toward Sara, Harry noticed in amusement. No doubt to disprove Draco’s tall tale.

“Shall we?” Draco invited, waving magnanimously toward the flight of stairs that would take them to the dungeons.

“You first, Malfoy,” Ron told the Slytherin in a curt tone, holding Harry’s arm when Harry made a movement toward the stairs.

Draco shrugged, and he and Zabini led the way.

Ron stepped in front of Harry, with Hermione taking up the rear to make a very amused Harry sandwich.

“I don’t think he’s going to try anything funny right outside my dad’s classroom,” Harry whispered as they marched down the steps.

“Never can be too careful with a Malfoy, Harry,” Ron muttered. If Draco heard, he made no indication. They made it into the Potions classroom without incident. “Be on your guard,” Ron advised out the corner of his mouth as Harry continued on toward the front of the room with Draco.

As soon as they were seated at their table, Draco began unpacking his supplies. When Harry leaned down to undo the clasp on his sack, Draco spoke, “Oh, don’t bother with that, Harry. We can use my supplies.” He pushed his cauldron to the middle of the table. “My cauldron as well,” he added with gracious nod.

“Oh.” Harry let the clasp fall back against the canvas. “Well, actually…” he began, and then paused as Draco smiled widely.

“I know you haven’t always enjoyed working with me, Harry,” he said, sounding almost eager. “But we actually have so much in common. And of course, Zabini didn’t mean his comment about purebloods as an insult.” Draco was babbling. “But you see, all of us…Slytherins, I mean, of course, we’ve always looked up to Severus. It was a bit hard to take when everyone found out he wasn’t really working for You Know Who, but not every Slytherin is a Death Eater, you know. We still really like him.”

Harry stared at Draco, as he attempted to find some sense in that long, garbled spiel. “Er…yeah,” he finally settled on saying. Draco practically beamed.

“Excellent,” he said as he turned his attention to lighting his cauldron. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“Agreement?” Harry echoed warily.

Draco waved his wand toward the tiny flames under the cauldron. “You didn’t think I’d actually want to abandon our partnership after all these months, did you?” Draco laughed; Harry thought it sounded a bit maniacal. “We work rather well together, after all.”

“I…”

The classroom door swung open, cutting off Harry’s muddled response.

“Finnegan, light your fire. Or did you believe it would light itself?”

Harry smiled at his father’s sarcastic question, in lieu of a greeting to the class.

“No, sir,” Seamus muttered. Severus ignored him to glare around the classroom.

“Most of your efforts during my absence were abysmal. Those who do not turn in a potion worthy of a N.E.W.T. level E, will serve detention with me in order to re-brew today’s potion until I am satisfied.” The scattered groans were immediately cut-off with a dark glare from Severus. “Begin,” he ordered curtly when the students were silent again.

“I don’t think we’ll have any need for worry,” Draco said smugly as he thumbed his text to the correct page. A large shadow obscuring the recipe made him start. Both he and Harry looked up. Severus was gazing at Draco with narrowed eyes.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” Draco said. He gestured around at the assembled supplies. “Harry and I are really looking forward to brewing the potion. It’s a bit complicated, but I’m sure we’ll have no serious problems. We work well together. Don’t we, Harry?” He smiled expectantly as he turned to Harry. Harry was on the verge of telling Draco that he would rather work with Neville and risk an exploding cauldron every day than work with him, but there was an odd waver in the question.

And a desperate gleam in Draco’s eyes.

Harry found himself nodding, albeit reluctantly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he finally agreed. He looked up again to find his father looking between them. Harry shrugged ever so slightly.

You are certain?

Yeah, Harry’s flames answered, well aware that his father could clearly feel his lack of enthusiasm. Severus pursed his lips, but nodded.

“Proceed,” he agreed, sparing a second to give Draco one of his more glacial stares. Draco swallowed, his smile thinning a bit. Temporarily satisfied, Severus whirled around and stalked toward a very unfortunate Finnegan, who was fumbling with a pair of oversized Tricken Seeds. “You should have mastered this technique as a second year, Finnegan…”

Harry tuned out his father’s sharp voice to focus on his own seeds with the point of a very sharp knife. Once he’d pried open the giant seeds, Draco was ready with a small trowel.

“Thanks,” Harry said as he scooped the innards into the cauldron.

“You missed a bit,” Draco pointed out, without a note of bile in his voice. Harry dutifully scraped the last bit of innards from the corner of the separated seed, and the two boys watched as it plopped into the cauldron. The fledging potion immediately began to fizz, and Draco grinned at Harry. Harry gave him a blank sort of smile.

“Did you enjoy your holiday?” Draco inquired as he continued to pulverize sixteen beetles.

“Er…”

“Where did you go? It must have been a wonderful diversion.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Malfoy glanced up as he continued to pound the beetles into dust. He smiled. “I heard you saw a Canons game.”

“Oliver Wood invited us,” Harry explained just as he finished slicing the outer shell of the seed.

“Delightful chap, Oliver,” Draco said with a nod.

And on and on, Draco prattled, almost without respite until the voice inside Harry’s own head was beginning to sound suspiciously like a pompous, nasal whinge.

“Has someone confunded you, Malfoy?”

Draco stopped speaking in mid-sentence at the sarcastic question. Harry twisted in his seat. Ron was on his way back from the classroom’s storage cupboard, and he’d stopped beside Harry and Draco’s table, a pestle in his hand.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Draco said, looking the very picture of innocence.

“You’ve been talking Harry’s ear off for an hour now,” Ron said as he tapped the stone pestle pointedly on the table.

“Well, we are conversing,” Draco stressed.

“Is there a problem?”

The three boys looked up at the dark question.

“Not at all, Professor,” Draco assured him.

“Then I suggest, Mr. Malfoy, that you pay more mind to your potion, and less to your conversation.”

“Yes sir,” Draco replied smartly.

“You are about to enter the most vital stage of today’s brewing,” Severus added, though that bit of instruction was delivered to Harry, and Harry nodded in understanding. To Ron, Severus said mildly, “Your cauldron is about to boil over.”

Ron let out a yip of surprise and scurried back over to his table. Parkinson was already standing over the bubbling potion. She snatched the pestle from Ron’s hands and began attacking the Tarn Eggs as though it was Ron’s head in the mortar instead.

“Pansy was much too aggressive, to make a suitable match,” Draco informed Harry quietly when he noticed Harry watching.

Having no idea what to say to that, and really having no desire to hear about Draco’s ex-girlfriend, he said, “We really need to pay close attention to the potion.”

Draco complied with Harry’s unspoken wish—for the most part. But even with the decrease in chatter, Harry felt exhausted by the time they turned in their potion.

Seamus was the only one who had to remain behind—Ron and Parkinson had managed to salvage their potion.

“I’ll see you Saturday, Harry,” Draco reminded him as he placed his quill back into his sack.

“Oh, yeah…maybe, I guess.”

“See you then,” Draco said with a confident wave as he and Zabini left the classroom together. Harry watched him go, completely flummoxed by the blond boy’s behavior.

“Saturday?” Severus queried as soon as Harry turned back around. Without even turning around, Severus said abruptly, “I suggest you keep your eyes on your work, Finnegan, if you wish to leave before the elves stop serving dinner.”

Seamus muttered something under his breath behind him, which Severus ignored.

“He invited Ginny and I to double with him—he’s apparently dating one of Ginny’s friends,” Harry explained; he smiled as Ron and Hermione parked themselves on one of the tables in the back row, waiting for him.

“Did he?” Severus sounded anything but pleased by the prospect. Harry nodded, not wanting to speak in front of Seamus. Severus pointed his wand discreetly toward the disgruntled boy. “Muffliato.”

Harry smiled and explained, “He’s been acting oddly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so much, not even combined through the years.”

“Nor have I.”

“He wasn’t even so friendly when he wanted me to help Lucius when Voldemort was still alive,” Harry said with still more confusion.

“I imagine he is feeing desperate,” Severus murmured. “Or perhaps, he has seen how desperate his mother undoubtedly is. Especially as they are all aware that you have not agreed to speak at Lucius’ new trial. He is eager to show everyone that you and the Malfoys are not enemies.”

Harry nodded, wishing the Malfoys and their problems wouldn’t keep intruding on their lives.

“Your pity toward him is unnecessary,” Severus continued, gleaning the reason for Harry’s change of heart about acquiring a new partner.

“I know,” Harry said with a shrug. “But I don’t mind him too terribly…I suppose. You had a long meeting with Dumbledore,” he said, changing the subject to one he was more concerned about when his father raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Remus said there wasn’t anything wrong though.”

“There is not,” Severus assured him. “Simon has been pestering the Headmaster. Albus is attempting to figure out exactly why he has such an interest in helping the Malfoys.”

“I thought they were friends.”

“They are no more than business acquaintances,” Severus corrected. “And even were they friends, the lengths Simon is going to, to ensure that Lucius goes free, would still be suspect.”

“You’ll tell me once you figure out what he’s up to, won’t you?” Harry asked, still hating more than almost anything else the feeling of being left to decipher things on his own.

“I will,” Severus promised, smiling slightly at the question. Or perhaps he was smiling because Harry still felt the need to ask it. It was a rather indulgent smile, but Harry found it hard to mind. “I assume you and your godfather are again on speaking terms?” Severus inquired briskly when Harry smiled his thanks.

Harry hesitated before answering, “I think he’s trying too hard to be okay with everything that’s happened. Did you notice that he said almost nothing about how different I look?”

“He does not wish to upset you.”

“I know.” Harry shifted his feet so that he was leaning up against the work table. “I think he thinks I’ll stop speaking to him if he shows any signs of having not completely accepted everything. He wanted to ask me almost the entire conversation if I’d like to spend some of the Christmas holidays with him, but he couldn’t. Remus finally told me when we came in for breakfast.”

“We do not have any formal plans for Christmas Day, if you wish to go,” Severus said with a crisp nod.

Harry gave him a lopsided smile. “I don’t.”

Severus features were predictably still at the frank words.

Harry pushed against his palms, straightening out of his slouch.

“We’re going to study in our quarters. Want to join us for dinner?” he asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder. He tried not to let Severus see his amusement as an involuntary smile lifted his father’s lips.

“Certainly.”

Harry glanced over at Seamus. “Enjoy your detention,” he said with a sly grin.

“I do not enjoy detention.”

“Sure you don’t,” Harry returned with a knowing smile.

Severus smirked. “I will see you at home.”

“Don’t have too much fun,” Harry advised his father as he turned to leave. “ Ron won’t be able to wait if you’re late.”

“I will not be late.”

Harry smiled at him, as relaxed as he had been in months. “See you at home, then.”

Severus watched as Weasley hopped down from his perch when Harry approached. Ms. Granger smiled at Harry as she took up position on his other side. Harry looked over his shoulder before they cleared the door; he flapped a hand at Severus and then followed Weasley out into the corridor.

Home.

The word resonated deep within Severus’ chest. With a quick word, he ended the Muffliato and turned around to check Finnegan’s progress—perhaps encourage him not to dawdle.

It would be a bitter pill indeed, when Harry finally moved back to the tower.

1996

Sirius paused in front of the mirror; he brushed invisible pieces of lint from his dark grey jumper, and ran his fingers once over his black hair before pulling his bedroom door wide and stepping into the musty corridor. He jogged lightly down the stairs.

Remus smiled as Sirius stepped into the parlor. Sirius grinned.

“Don’t you look dashing,” he drawled, stopping just in front of Remus. Remus’ smile brightened just a bit.

“Do I?” he asked, glancing down at his neatly pressed trousers and white button-down, the top button open. His usual patched brown robes had been exchanged for a brand-new set.

“Tonks won’t even recognize you,” Sirius teased. Remus looked up again—his expression faltered, but only for a second before he smiled again.

“Maybe I actually will get in the door then,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture belying his easy banter.

“The two of you certainly seem to be close,” Sirius said mildly as he watched Remus straightening the hem of his right sleeve. Remus looked up; his eyebrows furrowed, and a slight flush warmed his cheeks.

“Sirius, Tonks and I-”

“You and Harry,” Sirius interrupted, clarifying as he picked up a square package from the mantel. He instantly regretted his brusque tone, but Remus was looking at him with concern now, without a trace of irritation.

“It’s not a competition, Sirius,” he said quietly. Sirius frowned at the box in his palm.

“I know.”

“Sirius…Tonks will keep for a few minutes, if you want to talk-”

Sirius brushed his wavy hair out of his face with a swift movement of his fingers. “That’s all right, Moony. You don’t want to keep Tonks waiting.” He smiled, making sure it was a care-free sort of grin. “And besides, I have a date,” he lied. Best not to let Remus know he was simply wasting away here in his parents’ rotting house.

Remus’ eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind his fringe. “You…you do?” he asked, tripping over the words a little.

Sirius narrowed his eyes a little. Why is Remus so shocked? “With a woman I met in Diagon Alley this morning,” he continued with the lie. After all, it very well could have been true. “Why shouldn’t I?” He winced inwardly when he heard his mulish tone.

Remus gazed at him for a long moment. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?” Sirius demanded, a little too sharply for his own tastes. “There’s no reason I shouldn’t go out with a woman,” he said, a little more moderately. No reason at all…

Remus nodded slowly, smiled a little and shrugged. “I just thought you’d like a little more time to recover.”

Well, there is that, Sirius supposed. He mimicked Remus’ shrug. “I’m feeling perfectly well. Restless, you know.” He smirked for good measure.

Remus nodded again. “Well,” he said briskly. “I should be going then if I want to catch Tonks before she decides to go out for dinner or something.”

“Right,” Sirius agreed. He held out the delicately wrapped box. “She won’t be able to say no to this,” he said, his tone teasing once more. Remus closed his hand over the gift.

His fingers curled against Sirius’. He held Sirius’ eyes as he said sincerely, “Thank you, Sirius.”

Sirius shrugged; he’d been happy to do a favor for Remus, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had time to go pick up a gift for Remus to give to Tonks... “Good luck, Remus.” He smiled. “I do hope you’ll be happy.”

Remus pulled the box away. “Have fun on your date,” he said quietly. Sirius didn’t respond as Remus stepped into the large fireplace. As he watched the fire swallow Remus up, Sirius buried his empty hand in his pocket, feeling suddenly very cold.

--

Harry mumbled something which he hoped sounded like ‘go away’ as his shoulder was jostled. The jostler apparently couldn’t follow directions; Harry’s shoulder was given another shake, this one a little more demanding.

“Up, Harry,” his father’s deep voice commanded, a bit impatiently as though this wasn’t the first time he’d said it.

“…tired,” Harry complained, keeping his eyes firmly closed as he smushed his face solidly into his pillow.

“You would not be, had you not stayed up all hours of the night,” the deep voice admonished. Harry pulled his face away from the pillow at that, and peeled his eyes open. He relaxed though when he saw the unperturbed line of his father’s lips. Indulgent, those lines. Harry smiled lazily and thumped his face back into the pillow. The pillow immediately disappeared and Harry’s face flopped to the mattress.

Not that indulgent apparently.

Harry pushed himself up, with a frown to counter his father’s smirk.

“Your friend was not nearly as difficult to rouse as you,” Severus commented with good humor as he waved his wand to replace Harry’s pillow, though it reappeared at the other end of the bed this time.

Harry twisted his neck, and true enough, the rollaway his dad had conjured for Ron last night, was neatly made up, with a pajama-clad Ron sitting on top, though he did look a little bleary-eyed. “Traitor,” Harry muttered as he sat up, rubbing the last bit of crusty sleep from his eyes.

“I didn’t want him to take points,” Ron shot back in a whisper, out of the corner of his mouth, though he kept his eyes on Severus.

Harry groaned. “You’re as bad as Hermione. He’s not gonna take points for rolling out of bed late. And you didn’t have to make up your bed,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

Ron glanced back at his neatly centered pillow. “I just straightened the covers a bit,” he said defensively, fluffing the pillow a little as he said it. “You always made up you bed when you were at my house.”

Huh. So he had.

Harry smiled at his friend then. “Want the shower first?”

“Sure,” Ron said with a shrug. He was used to waiting for a turn, after all, first at home with so many brothers, and then waiting for bunk mates in the tower. Before he stood though, Severus pulled out his wand and directed it toward the messy pile of Ron’s school clothes. With two quick spells, Ron’s uniform and robes were folded neatly in a clean stack on Ron’s bed.

Ron looked up at Severus, his eyes rounder than usual. “Er…thanks, sir,” he said, even as his cheeks pinked a little. Severus simply nodded and stepped away from the door. Ron glanced at Harry as he stood. Harry gave him an encouraging nod. Ron smiled a tiny bit as he scooted out the door, his bundle of clothes clutched to his middle.

“I think he likes you,” Harry said with a smile before he rolled over, flipping his pillow back into place as he did. He yawned.

“Perhaps I should vanish your bed.”

Harry turned his head, grinning at his father. “You wouldn’t,” he said confidently, but he rolled off the bed anyway, popping up to stand a second later. “I’m starving,” he said as he stretched out the kinks in his muscles. Severus raised an eyebrow.

“The two of you were ordering food from the kitchens after midnight.”

Harry’s arms flopped back to his sides. “We’re still growing, you know.” With a thoughtful look, he moved closer to Severus. Palming his hand flat against the top of his head, he slid it forward until it was level with the bridge of his father’s nose. “I need to eat a lot more,” he mused.

Harry wrinkled his nose at his father as Severus pushed Harry’s hand dawn a few centimeters; Severus’ lips were quirked in subtle amusement. Harry smiled.

In all seriousness though, he asked, “Do you think I’ll grow at all now…more than I would have I mean?”

“It is possible,” Severus told him. “Although, James and I were almost the same height.”

Harry sighed as he turned to his bureau to gather up his own uniform.

“You are by no means, the shortest young man in your year,” Severus reminded him.

“I’m not exactly the tallest either,” Harry pointed out. Severus didn’t respond; his lips had pressed together. “What’s the matter?” Harry asked after he’d closed the large bureau doors.

“Harry…” Severus began, tentatively for him. He pursed his lips again before he continued, “You yourself said that the Dursleys often did not feed you. It is likely that your growth has been affected by early malnourishment.”

“They didn’t starve me,” Harry said with a shrug.

“A child can be malnourished without technically being starved,” Severus said with scowl. “And there is no reason for you to pretend that you were not mistreated by them. Especially not for my sake,” he finished in a tone that Harry didn’t particularly want to argue with, but really, he was making too much of the whole issue. How many times was he going to ask about the Dursleys?

“I’m not pretending they weren’t completely worthless as guardians,” he argued anyway. “But they weren’t so bad that I couldn’t handle it, you know.”

“It is not a question of how well you were able to handle their abuse,” his father returned, probably using that word on purpose to make Harry take him more seriously. But what was the point of talking about things that couldn’t be changed? “It is not a mark of weakness on your part that they treated you the way they did,” Severus continued.

Harry bristled as his father came a little too close to the mark. “That’s not what I said.”

“That is precisely what you meant, however,” Severus said calmly. “You cannot be held responsible for their depravity.”

“Depravity?” Harry echoed. “I think that’s a bit much,” he said with a grimace. “They didn’t feed me much sometimes and I had to do more work probably than any of the other kids in my year, but it’s not like I sit up nights worrying over it.”

“Not even when you were in their care?” Severus challenged. “Not even when your friends used to send you care packages to ensure you would have enough to eat?” His voice was shaking a little as he spoke. “Remus told me the Order had to threaten Petunia’s husband at the beginning of this summer past.”

“It’s true, sir.” Both Severus and Harry turned. Ron, his damp hair plastered to his scalp was just coming into the room. “My dad thought maybe they were hurting him. And we used to send Harry food to make sure he had enough to eat. Once mum heard that the Dursleys weren’t feed-”

“Ron,” Harry interrupted, his voice a bit sharper than he meant it to be. Ron shifted toward Harry. His face took a familiar pig-headed look—one he often wore when he was arguing with someone about the Canons. “No one was hurting me,” Harry said through his clenched teeth, wishing Ron would shut up.

“They didn’t feed you, Harry,” Ron said as if that said everything. “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but we all knew it. And it wasn’t right the way they treated you so horribly, Harry. We all knew that as well. It’s not your fault, you know.”

Harry stared at his friend, who was gazing at him, his face frank and wise somehow. He was obviously being slowly taken over by Hermione’s brain. Which Harry wouldn’t have minded in most cases. But in this one…

“Mr. Weasley, if you would excuse us for a moment,” Severus said quietly, his eyes held fast to Harry’s.

“We’ll be late for class,” Harry said quickly, already stepping toward the door.

“Then you will be late.”

Harry halted. It had been a long time since he’d heard his father use that tone. And he knew he wouldn’t be leaving their quarters without listening to what his dad had to say. He turned slowly back around.

“There is food on the table, Mr. Weasley. Harry will be with you shortly,” Severus said to Ron, without even looking at him. Ron didn’t move though. Severus turned to him. “I have no plans to reprimand him, if that is your concern.”

Harry wondered if Ron could detect the very slight sarcasm in the reassurance.

Ron shook his head though, looking thoughtful. “I didn’t think that, sir,” he said, and then with a small smile, he left Harry and Severus alone.

“I really don’t think about the Dursleys much,” Harry said as soon as the door had closed behind Ron.

“He is correct, Harry. It is not your fault that you were mistreated,” Severus said as a response.

“I know that.”

Severus took a step toward him. “You never wondered if you could have done anything to make them hate you so much?”

Caught off guard, Harry stared at him. “I…”

“You never tried to be what you thought they wanted, hoping if you were good enough, they would love you? Harry, I do understand the impulse,” he said gruffly. “But just as my father was, the Dursleys are repulsive people. Nothing you could have done, would have changed that. You do not need to earn the right to be loved.”

“I used to wonder why they didn’t love me,” Harry admitted after he’d chewed his lower lip for a minute or two. “I used to think that maybe they’d treat me more like Dudley if I tried harder not to do all the odd things I used to do—accidental magic. But I know they’re twisted,” he tried to explain. “I mean, I know it now,” he amended when his father furrowed his brow.

Severus didn’t say anything. Harry shrugged a little.

“I heard you too, you know,” he said, making sure not to smile too broadly so his father wouldn’t think he was making light of Dursley situation any longer. “I do understand that it was easy for me to believe you would eventually not want me around because no one ever wanted me around.” He risked a smile. “You told me so a bunch of times.”

Severus frowned. “I did not realize you had fully accepted my words on the subject.”

“I know the Dursleys are basically as worthless as they come,” Harry replied, not exactly answering his father’s unspoken question. He couldn’t really imagine not worrying that he’d do something to mess things up between them. Even if Harry knew it wouldn’t happen, he still worried. He knew his father understood what he hadn’t said, and it was a measure of how far they’d come, that Severus didn’t comment on it.

“If I did not know you would disapprove, I would make sure that they pay for their crimes,” he said instead.

Harry’s eyes widened with alarm. “You won’t though, right? You’d get in trouble.”

Severus shook his head. “I will not harm them,” he promised, though it looked like it pained him to do so.

--

Harry smiled at Remus as he came toward him during his final stroll around the classroom. Remus didn’t seem to notice Harry’s smile; his eyes were far away. He stopped in front of Harry though, and gave Ron a quick pointer on how to hold his wand to make his curse more effective.

“Just hold it a bit higher, and pointing away from your body,” he advised. Ron nodded as he concentrated. He followed Remus’ advice and ended up sending Harry into a tangle of arms and legs that he couldn’t get out of.

“Wicked!” Seamus called out from nearby.

“Brilliant!” was Ron’s assessment as he gave his wand a proud look.

“Hey!” Harry protested as an impressed group of students circled around Harry. “Someone want to help me?” he asked pointedly.

“Sorry mate,” Ron said with a grin, “but I don’t know the counter spell.”

“Ever hear of a Finite?” Harry asked sarcastically as he tried to make his legs stop trying to twist themselves into a pretzel. He wondered where the hell Remus was. Ron chuckled and aimed his wand at Harry.

“Finite.”

Harry’s arms and legs straightened themselves out obediently. “Thanks loads, Ron,” he grumbled. Ron kept grinning and offered him a hand up.

“Class dismissed.”

Harry twisted his shoulder a bit. Remus was standing near the door, a piece of parchment in his hands; he was frowning.

“Harry, if you would stay a moment, please,” he added as he glanced up. Harry’s stomach rolled, the words reminding him of the day he’d been such a twat to Remus.

The rest of the class quickly lost interest in Harry as they scrambled for their bags. Ron and Hermione gave Harry uncertain looks, but Harry just shook his head for them to go.

“We’ll wait outside for you,” Ron told him under his breath.

Remus waited until Harry’s friends had passed through the door before coming forward. He handed Harry the folded slip of parchment. “It’s from Sirius.” Harry’s brows furrowed; he tried to decipher the look on Remus’ face, but he couldn’t. His muscles twisted into knots, Harry took the note and flipped it open.

“It’s addressed to you,” he said unnecessarily. Remus nodded.

“Simon wants to speak with Sirius,” he supplied. Harry quickly scanned the note.

“He can’t do that,” he burst out as soon as he’d finished reading. “You’re not a werewolf anymore anyway.”

Remus sighed. “No one else knows that.”

Harry glared at the missive. “Sirius isn’t going to do what Simon wants though, is he?”

Remus sat wearily on one of the desks. “I think he means to, yes.”

“But this can’t be anything as simple as we thought before,” Harry protested. “Dad said he and Dumbledore are suspicious about what Simon’s trying to do. And now he’s hinting that he might create a special law to bar werewolves from teaching?” Harry scrunched the note in his fingers. “Sirius just can’t go off and say that Malfoy is some sort of saint, even if Simon tries to threaten you.”

Remus plucked the abused note from Harry’s hand. “Sirius doesn’t have all the information-”

“But then you have to tell him not to go,” Harry interrupted.

Remus smiled without mirth. “I have very little influence over Sirius’ choices, Harry.”

“Well, I’ll tell him then,” Harry decided. He nodded as he swung toward Remus’ office. “Classes are over; I’ll just Floo over to Grimmauld Place and-”

Remus caught his arm. He was staring at Harry as though he’d lost his mind.

“What?” Harry asked in confusion.

“You can’t leave the castle,” Remus said as if it should have been obvious…which, of course, it should have been. “I am quite certain your father would object.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry conceded. “I can just Floo-call him though. Can I use your office?”

Remus, by this time, was looking vaguely amused. “I believe I will,” he said. Harry followed Remus up the stairs to his office.

“I was going to ask you before Sirius’ note came. How did everything go with Tonks last night?” he asked just as they reached the landing. Remus had pivoted a bit so that they were facing one another. Harry knew the answer immediately. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly. It was all he could think to say without asking for details.

Remus smiled again, and Harry wondered how he hadn’t noticed how much sadness had been in Remus’ face all afternoon.

“We still have things to work out of course,” Remus explained, “but Tonks understands-”

“Wait,” Harry interrupted. “You didn’t break it off with her?” he asked with confusion. “I mean, you’re still together?” He’d been certain by the look on Remus’ face that things had not gone over well last night.

But Remus nodded. “Yes, we are.”

“But…aren’t you happy about it, then?”

Remus looked surprised at the question. “I… Of course I am,” he finally answered, nodding his head firmly.

“Then why do you look like you’ve just lost your best friend?” Harry asked. Remus looked startled, but only for an instant. He patted Harry’s shoulder.

“We’ll be just fine,” Remus told him with another small smile. “Tonks is a lovely girl, Harry, and of course, things are a bit complicated…”

Remus cleared his throat as Harry stared at him. Remus shook his head. “Never mind,” he said softly and then putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder, he steered Harry into his office.

Harry let Remus guide him as he tried to figure out what Remus had been babbling about. He recognized that Remus had decided that whatever he was going to say would have been over Harry’s head. But that didn’t annoy Harry as much as it intrigued him.

Remus stuck his head into the flames as they rose up. Harry waited impatiently, watching Remus’ back; it looked like Remus was gesturing, rather emphatically from the way the muscles around his shoulder blades kept tensing. But finally Remus pulled his head back through the fire; his lips were set in a thin line.

Sirius stepped through a second later, glancing at Remus briefly, his own expression one of irritation. But when he turned to Harry, he smiled, though it looked like it took some effort.

Harry couldn’t help but stare at him. Sirius’ smile faltered a bit.

“What is it?” he asked worriedly. Harry shrugged; he couldn’t really explain it. Even though he knew that Sirius was alive…

“It’s a bit surreal to see you stepping through the Floo is all,” he tried to explain. Sirius relaxed; he smiled again.

“For me as well,” he admitted. He stepped forward and patted his hands up and down Harry’s arms, squeezing a bit. “See? I’m really here,” he teased. Harry grinned, but then he remembered why Sirius was here.

“You can’t testify for Lucius,” he blurted. Sirius sighed, pulling his hands away from Harry so that he could brush his hair back from his face.

“If I don’t at least agree to meet with this Simon bloke, Remus will have prove he isn’t a werewolf.”

“Well, he should do that anyway,” Harry countered. “Don’t you think?”

But Sirius shook his head. “There isn’t actually any proof that he was a werewolf in the first place. Only hearsay. He’ll be tested by Ministry officials until they bleed him dry.”

“I believe you’re overstating the case, just a bit, Sirius,” Remus said dryly. Sirius glanced at him.

“If anyone asks questions, how will you explain what happened?” he demanded, ignoring Remus’ comment.

“There are only three other people who have proof that I was a werewolf. And none of them will admit it,” Remus told him calmly.

Sirius opened his mouth, but after a mild glare from Remus, he closed it again.

“He won’t say anything,” Harry said quietly, knowing exactly what Sirius had been about to say.

“I know,” Sirius agreed immediately; much too quickly. He turned back to Remus. “All of the Order members were aware-”

“Only what Albus told them. They never saw anything,” Remus cut in. He shook his head. “There’s more going on here, Sirius. Simon has no reason to be so desperate to have Lucius free. And Harry’s already decided he’s helped enough. How can you possibly want to speak on behalf of Lucius Malfoy?”

Sirius frowned. “I only want to make sure Simon keeps his mouth shut about you,” he said quietly. Remus didn’t respond; if anything, he looked confused. Sirius cleared his throat a little as he turned back to Harry. “I’m seeing Dawn Ridley this evening. She’s Lucius’ advocate, you remember?”

Remus made a funny sound, and both Harry and Sirius turned to him. Remus’ face had flushed pink.

“You’re dating Lucius’ advocate now?” he sputtered.

Sirius narrowed his eyes as he gazed at Remus. “I wouldn’t say we’re dating, no, but she sent me an owl this morning and she asked me to dinner-”

“Sirius, she obviously wants to try to convince you to do what Simon is asking,” Remus interrupted.

“She isn’t Simon’s advocate, Remus,” Sirius said, sounding just mildly irritated with Remus’ observation. “And she said she’s been thinking about me since she met me at Lucius’ trial-”

“Sirius,” Remus interrupted again, throwing his arms up in exasperation, “you can’t really believe this is a coincidence.”

“You have to admit, Sirius, it’s sort of suspect,” Harry put in. “She’s a bit dodgy, anyway, didn’t you think so?”

“You would be wise, not to trust anyone associated with either Lucius or Bavister Simon,” a deep voice interjected.

Harry turned. Severus stood in the doorway to Remus’ classroom. His eyes flicked briefly to Harry, and Harry could tell he was less than pleased about something, before Severus turned his attention back to Sirius and Remus.

“It is your own business who you choose to dine with, Black,” he continued on, “but it more than likely that whatever Simon plans to do once Lucius is free, it has something to do with Harry.”

“To do with Harry?” Sirius echoed, his eyes going to Harry immediately.

“Simon has suggested that Harry may be better off with another guardian,” Severus explained. Sirius’ face flushed, and he looked away from Harry. Severus’ eyes were cold as he gazed at Sirius. “Perhaps you know something about that?”

Harry whirled around, his mouth falling open as he stared at his godfather. “You suggested it?” he asked as his voice rose in disbelief.

Sirius shook his head vigorously. “Of course not, Harry!” he denied. “Simon sent me a letter this morning…” he explained with a grimace, “…he suggested that perhaps I might wish to be the one to accept custody of you, if it was proven that-”

“And you find nothing peculiar about the fact that Simon is attempting to orchestrate who controls Harry?” Severus demanded harshly. Harry tried not to let his father’s phrasing bother him. Sirius’s spine stiffened.

“Of course I didn’t find it peculiar that he’d suggest I take care of Harry,” he retorted. “I’m his godfather, and even though I couldn’t technically be Harry’s guardian, I knew I’d take care of him if something happened to the Dursleys. Why shouldn’t Simon assume I’d do the same now?”

“Because, if something happens to me,” Severus said tightly, “my will states that Lupin will be named as Harry’s guardian. And,” he added, ignoring the shock that had dazed Sirius, “no matter how much you wish it could be so, the Ministry will not be able to take Harry away from me.”

Sirius’ face was frozen.

Harry wanted to say something, but he felt so torn that he couldn’t even untangle his thoughts. No matter what he said, he would hurt one of the men standing there, so he stayed silent and watched until Sirius’ jaw thawed, and finally nodded.

“Of course not,” Sirius said, his voice completely flat. To Harry he said, “I wouldn’t try to take you away from him.”

I know, Harry wanted to say, but only moments before, hadn’t he just accused Sirius of that very thing? Before he could even nod, Sirius turned so that he was facing both Remus and Severus.

“If you really believe Simon wants something from Harry, I’ll keep my date with Dawn. Even if she doesn’t know what he’s plotting, she might be able to tell me things about Simon or Lucius that we wouldn’t otherwise know.”

Harry felt his father’s surprise. “It might be wise,” he said with a crisp nod. Sirius’ eyes flickered his own surprise as well, but he simply nodded.

“I should be going then.”

“Wait,” Harry said as Sirius turned toward the Floo; Sirius hesitated. “I didn’t mean that I believed you’d try to do anything. I was surprised-”

Sirius smiled sadly at him. “It’s all right, Harry. It’s not as if the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” With that, Sirius gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze and then he disappeared through the Floo.

“Was it really necessary to tell him like that?” Remus asked quietly as the flames died down again.

“Would you have preferred that he find out after I was already dead?”

“Of course not, Severus, but surely there was a better way to bring up the contents of your will.”

“Did you believe I would enjoy arguing with Black about your assuming responsibility for Harry on my deathbed, then?”

“Can we please not talk about you and your deathbed, any longer?” Harry asked, his voice strained.

Severus and Remus turned to him, as if only just realizing he was there. Severus frowned.

Harry made his fingers uncurl from the sleeves of his robes and asked, “How did you know that Simon had asked Sirius about trying to take me away from you?”

“Albus informed me this morning.”

“How did he know?”

“I have no idea,” Severus said. He gestured toward the door. “Dinner has already started in the Great Hall.”

Harry shook his head, preparing to dig his heels in if he had to. “I can eat later,” he said with a frown. “You know something, don’t you? You said you would tell me.”

“I do not know anything more than what I just told Black,” Severus said, and Harry could hear the slight edge in his voice, as though he expected Harry to argue with him. “Simon is plotting something, and it stands to reason that it involves you in some way.”

“Just because he wants to take me away from you?” Harry didn’t like the way his chest tingled even as the question came out calmly.

“He cannot take you away. You are my son, in every sense of the word, Harry,” Severus spoke quietly, his voice very firm. “Biologically, legally and magically. There is nothing he can do to break those bonds.”

“Then why are you so worried?” Harry asked, his storm focused on the nervous tremors of his father’s flames.

Severus’ jaw shifted ever so slightly. Harry was afraid he would deny it. And when his father spoke again, his voice was even stiffer than Sirius’ had been a few moments ago, “I do not relish the thought of having to prove I have the right to be your father.”

“Surely, it won’t come to that, Severus,” Remus protested. When Severus had no response, Harry’s stomach lurched.

“But there’s no reason for him to try to do that. Why would he possibly want Sirius to…what, adopt me?” he asked desperately.

“I do not think Simon wants Black to become your guardian,” Severus said. “Whatever he does want though, will come more easily if your godfather agrees that I am not a fit father.”

Harry stared at his father.

“Severus, Sirius was upset when he found out about you, but he would never do something so cruel to Harry,” Remus said quickly, his voice hard with his conviction.

“He admitted himself that he had entertained the thought,” Severus reminded him.

Remus fell silent.

“But he meant…before.” Harry blinked up at his father. “Didn’t he?” That didn’t make it much better though, Harry knew. Especially where his father was concerned.

When Severus didn’t answer, Remus said in exasperation, “Of course he did, Harry. He wouldn’t do that to you. You heard what he said. He wants to make sure that whatever Simon and Lucius are up to, it won’t affect you.”

“It is unlikely that Black would make a protest against me right now, not if it would put you in unnecessary danger,” Severus agreed, but Harry heard the ‘right now’ part more than the reassurance that he had nothing to worry about when it came to Sirius. If Sirius had any doubts that with Severus was where Harry was safest, would he make a protest then? Harry wondered silently. He didn’t much like the answer he came up with.

1996

“It hasn’t anything to do with Harry, Severus-”

“You are allowing your friendship to color your perception of the situation.”

“How can you expect otherwise, Severus? He’s been my friend almost my entire life.”

“Including the twelve years he spent in Azkaban?”

“Now, Severus, surely we can have our discussion without resorting to insinuations and insul-”

“Albus, we have very little time for a discussion at all. Lucius’ trial begins in three days. Since we have yet to discover what Simon wants from Lucius, I intend to ensure that Black does nothing, however unwittingly, to harm Harry.”

Harry had paused on his way down the corridor. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, but he’d been awoken from a sound sleep by the voices from the sitting room. His father, Remus and Dumbledore as far as he could tell.

“Severus, he won’t make any protests about you-” Remus was saying tiredly.

“Remus, have you spoken to Sirius since he left your office?” Dumbledore interjected.

Remus didn’t immediately answer.

“I…flooed to Grimmauld Place late last night; but he wasn’t there,” he finally said.

Dumbledore chuckled.

“Albus, Miss Ridley could very well be in collusion with Simon,” Severus said irritably. “I fail to see the humor in her spending so much time with Black.”

“Well, Severus,” Dumbledore said, still sounding amused, “it has been rather a long time since Sirius has enjoyed the company of another.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Albus,” Severus objected, his voice heavy with disdain, and perhaps some disgust. And since Harry really didn’t want to hear any more hints about Sirius’ love life, he rounded the corner and stepped into the sitting room.

“Erm…morning.”

The three men turned to Harry in surprise; they were seated around the table next to the fireplace, cups of coffee in front of them. Harry ran a hand self-consciously through his hair, trying to tame the wild thatch as they stared at him.

“Good morning, my boy,” Dumbledore greeted with a warm smile. “We were just discussing your trip to Hogsmeade.”

“You were?” Harry asked skeptically. Not as far as Harry had heard, they hadn’t been.

“Did we wake you?” Severus asked, glancing at the old-fashioned clock on the mantel, which had once belonged to Lily’s grandmother. “It is not yet six.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said, giving his dad a bit of a look, to which Severus raised an eyebrow. “Why were you discussing Hogsmeade?” he asked.

“Arrangements, of course,” Dumbledore supplied. “It is still much too dangerous for you to venture out on your own-”

“Wait…what do you mean?” Harry interrupted, feeling a vague sense of panic setting in. To his father, he protested, “But you said I could go.”

Severus inclined his head. “And so you shall.”

“Remus and Nymphadora have agreed to chaperone,” Dumbledore added cheerfully. And then while Harry was surprised into silence, he waved his wand in a few complicated arcs; several covered platters appeared on the table. “We may as well have some breakfast while we discuss the particulars,” he suggested, still smiling at Harry, apparently ignorant of Harry’s consternation.

“I’m not hungry,” Harry said impatiently. It was too early for breakfast, but mostly he wanted Dumbledore—or his father—to get on with it. “Is a chaperone really necessary?” asked, turning to his father.

Severus pulled out the chair beside him. “I think perhaps the term chaperone is inaccurate,” he replied, giving the chair a pointed look when Harry remained standing.

Grudgingly, Harry sat. “You know,” he grumbled, “this feels an awful lot like it did when we were still worried about Voldemort.”

“It does indeed, Harry,” Dumbledore agreed with a smile, though Harry saw nothing at all to be cheerful about.

“It is unrealistic to expect our lives to return to a pre-Voldemort state so soon after his death,” Severus said, passing Harry a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured. He wrapped his hand around the glass, but didn’t drink. “I didn’t expect that things would be as if Voldemort never existed. But, all this plotting? And a chaperone?” He grimaced, and then as he realized how that might sound to Remus, he quickly turned to his friend. “I don’t mean, because it’s you, Remus-”

“It’s quite all right, Harry,” Remus told him with a smile. “I wouldn’t be excited about such an intrusion while on a date either.”

“Remus and Tonks will be in Hogsmeade, Harry, near you at all times, but they will not be there to chaperone you in any way,” Severus assured him quickly.

“Near us?” Harry echoed; that didn’t sound any better.

“We’ll be together, on our own ‘date,’” Remus explained, with a little wink; trying to make Harry feel better about the whole thing, obviously. “But we’ll be nearby, just in case there are any problems.”

Harry was about to say he and Ginny would rather stay in the castle, but the look on his father’s face stopped him. Severus’ face was pinched and he was leaning forward slightly—anxiously. And Harry recalled the many times they’d spoken about how he wanted to be normal; his dad, though it was impossible at the moment, was doing his best to give that to him. So Harry swallowed down his protests, and nodded.

He hoped Ginny wouldn’t be too disappointed.

The tense lines of Severus’ shoulders and arms relaxed. He settled back in his chair and nodded a little. “Remus has volunteered to escort the students to the village. He will meet Tonks there.”

“All right,” Harry agreed. He tried a smile, and hoped it came out all right. He turned to Remus. “Thanks, then.”

“You won’t even realize I’m there,” Remus promised. Harry nodded, not really believing him. Feeling like an ungrateful whelp, Harry took a few sips of his juice, as if to seal the pact.

“We will do our best to make certain there are no more threats, as soon as possible,” Severus put in quietly.

“I know,” Harry said to him, doing his best not to let any of his skepticism bleed through this time. Feeling suddenly more disappointed than he cared to admit, Harry pushed his chair back. “I should get a shower.”

Severus pursed his lips, but said nothing. Harry’s gut twisted with guilt. He knew he was a being a baby about it; it wasn’t his dad’s fault that Voldemort’s influences reached so far.

“Thank you for fixing it so I could go at all.”

Severus inclined his head; the tension had returned to his face. Harry raised his fingers in farewell to both the Headmaster and Remus, knowing that he was being rude, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.

Both Remus and Dumbledore said a proper farewell anyway, and Harry trudged to the bathroom feeling like a big bloody baby. The shower helped a bit as the hot water worked the tightness out of own neck and shoulders.

He gave up trying to analyze his feelings though by the time he was padding back down the corridor in only a terry cloth dressing gown and bare feet; he’d forgotten his clothes. The sitting room was empty as he passed by, which he was grateful for.

He sighed as he closed his door. No use whinging on about it. He was used to living on different terms than other kids; this was no different.

Harry was just lacing up his trainers when there was a quiet tap at his door.

“Come in,” he invited, tugging on his laces to finish off the knot. He smiled as his father stepped in. He didn’t think it had been a completely unconvincing smile, but the look on his father’s face said differently.

Harry wanted to tell him not to fret over it, but Severus began speaking, “I do apologize, Harry, that I was unable to find a better solution for your day in Hogsmeade.”

Harry straightened up. He hated the look of worry on his father’s face. “It’s all right,” he assured Severus quickly. “It’s not your fault people still want me dead.”

Severus frowned at Harry’s accuracy. But he did not correct him.

“Remus won’t intrude,” Harry told his father, who still looked rather depressed by the whole situation. “And Ginny won’t mind,” he added, hoping it was true.

In response, Severus said seriously, “I will do everything I can to ensure that the remainder of the Death Eaters are secured."

"I know," Harry said, but since it couldn't happen soon enough, it was little comfort. He just hoped the day wouldn't be spoiled, even by the mere threat.

--

But Remus, true to his word, stayed out of their way; they hadn’t even noticed he and Tonks were around most of the day. And Ginny hadn’t minded.

“Tonks looks happy,” she said as she and Harry walked hand in hand back toward the castle.

Harry glanced back at Tonks. Her hand was wound through Remus’ arm and she was smiling while he said something to her. Remus did seem much more relaxed as well; his face was no longer pinched with anxiety.

“I’m glad,” Hermione added fervently. “I was worried they’d never make it up.”

Harry had been too, but it seemed they were working through whatever issues had been plaguing them.

“Look, Harry,” Ron said, nudging Harry’s arm. “It’s Sirius.”

Harry swiveled his head in the direction Ron was pointing.

Sirius, his head bent low toward Dawn Ridley’s blond waves, was laughing as the couple stepped out of the bookstore and into the cobbled street. Dawn looked up. She smiled slowly; her blue eyes brightened.

“Hallo, Harry,” she greeted; her greeting had more of a drawl in it than Harry remembered.

Sirius looked up as well. He smiled at Harry, but Harry could easily see the hesitation in his light eyes. “I thought we’d see you here,” he said as he and Dawn stopped in front of them. "I was hoping we would when Dawn suggested we come."

“Hi Sirius,” Harry said with genuine enthusiasm; he’d been worried about his godfather since Sirius had left Remus’ office so abruptly a few days ago. “Hi Miss Ridley,” he added, since she was staring at him rather blatantly. She looked startled for a moment, but then she smiled again.

“Just Dawn, Harry,” she corrected. She touched Harry’s arm with her fingertips. “I would like you to think of me as a friend,” she told him.

Harry didn’t think that was very likely, but he nodded anyway.

"I am hoping we'll be seeing a lot of one another," Dawn added with a coy smile, as she slid her arm more firmly through Sirius'; Harry saw Remus frown out of the corner of his eye.

"Sure," Harry agreed vaguely.

Sirius smiled at him again, and draped an arm over his shoulders.

“Enjoying your day?” he inquired as he gave his godson’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Remus hasn’t given you any trouble, has he?” he asked, with a wink for his friend.

Harry looked over his shoulder to smile at Remus. Remus’ arms were hanging taut by his sides now; Tonks’ arm was no longer intertwined with his. “Of course I haven’t,” Remus answered stiffly. Tonks glanced up at him in surprise.

Sirius studied Remus, and Harry watched in fascination as Remus’ cheeks flushed. “I suspect you’ve been too busy with Tonks to be much of an overzealous chaperone, eh, Moony?” Sirius asked with a lopsided smile.

“I take my responsibility to Harry very seriously, Sirius.”

That comment, combined with Remus’ affronted look, startled even Harry that time, and he was becoming uncomfortably used to Remus’ and Sirius’ odd behavior with one another of late.

Harry felt Sirius’ hand tense a little on his shoulder but when he glanced up, Sirius was shrugging. “I would expect nothing else,” he said easily. He looked down at Harry. “I’ve found a buyer for my parents’ home,” he said. “Some creepy old bloke who wants everything kept just as it is,” he added with a smile.

Harry found himself frowning at that.

“Don’t tell me,” Sirius said with a feigned look of horror, “you wanted the portrait of my mother?”

Harry chuckled. “No,” he said as he shook his head. “It’ll be odd to see you anywhere else, that’s all.”

Sirius nodded thoughtfully, but then he grinned. “I’m going to start building a new house, though. I bought a plot of land…not far from here, actually…” Sirius twisted his neck and pointed off toward a spot that might have been in the same general direction as the Shrieking Shack. “Would you like to help me?”

“Really?” Harry asked. “With magic, you mean?”

“Sure,” Ron spoke up. “That’s how my parents built our house, you know. It’s fun.”

Sirius smiled at him. “You can come as well…if your parents agree.”

“Brilliant,” Ron said excitedly.

“Sounds amazing, Sirius,” Harry told his godfather, who looked delighted with Harry’s agreement.

“Both of you are welcome as well,” he said to the two girls. While Hermione was explaining that she was going to Australia with her parents, Harry felt a strange sensation of cold along the back of his neck—like tiny iced fingers were crawling across his nape. He turned.

But there was nothing behind him. Only Dawn, whose eyes seemed glazed as they met Harry’s. She blinked and shook her head a little bit before her lips curved slowly into a smile; Harry stared at her.

“What do you think, Harry?”

The spell was broken, and Harry looked back toward Sirius, who was gazing at him expectantly.

“Erm…about what?”

“Remus suggested you might be able to come during the winter hols sometime. You’d have time. Would…you like to?”

Harry smiled at his godfather. “Of course. It sounds like fun, Sirius.”

Sirius grinned at him. Dawn moved closer to his side; her smile looked more natural now. “It will be fun, Harry. You’ll see," she said enthusiastically.

The rhythm of Harry’s nod was a little off as she continued to gaze at him.

--

Harry stared in surprise as he stepped into the sitting room. Thoughts of Sirius flew from his mind.

He grinned at Severus, who was watching him carefully.

“A Christmas tree!”

“It was supposed to be delivered tomorrow, but Hagrid thought we might like it sooner,” Severus explained. “We can decorate it after your friends leave in the morning-”

“We’re going to decorate it?” Harry asked, turning around excitedly; he was already inspecting the dark evergreen boughs.

“That is generally what people do with Christmas trees,” Remus said from where he was coming in behind Harry.

Harry shot his friend a mock glare; Remus simply looked amused.

“Thank you for escorting him,” Severus acknowledged their visitor.

“He insisted,” Harry interjected before Remus could respond. “Do you have ornaments?” he asked excitedly, looking expectantly around the room.

Severus looked mildly confused for a moment at Harry’s rapid change of topic, before answering with a frown, “We do. Why did he need to insist that he escort you? I thought I had made it clear-”

“You did,” Harry interrupted hastily. “But we saw Sirius on the way home—he was with Dawn again.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Was he?”

“She said she hopes that she and I will be friends,” Harry added, shaking his head as he remembered the way she had been clinging to Sirius.

“No doubt, she sees many advantages to a relationship with him,” Severus said dryly. Harry frowned at that—true though his father’s statement was.

“She seems like she really likes him…” he said, as he looked around the room for some sort of box like the ones the Dursleys had always kept their ornaments in. “I don’t think Remus much cares for her though,” he added with a smirk for his friend.

“Harry,” Remus said in mild exasperation, “you just finished telling me how odd you find her.”

“She is odd, Remus,” Harry agreed. “And creepy.”

“Creepy?” Remus echoed with laugh.

Harry shrugged at his father’s inquiring look. “Can’t explain it,” was all the explanation he had. He just didn’t like her. “Sirius bought a plot of land,” Harry added cautiously, knowing he probably shouldn’t worry about his dad’s reaction to Sirius’ request, but he did anyway. Severus bobbed his head a little, his guarded look telling him that he knew Harry was leading up to something. “He’s going to build the house…he asked me to help, during the holidays sometime.”

“And you would like to?” Severus asked; he glanced quickly over to Remus as he did.

Harry switched his gaze between the two furtive men; Remus was nodding hesitantly.

“What?” Harry demanded, not entirely sure why he was irritated by the interplay; it was a normal interaction between the two men by now.

Severus’ gaze came back to Harry; his dark eyes swept over his son’s frowning countenance. “I would prefer you not be alone with Black,” he finally answered; his blunt response surprised Harry momentarily.

“If she’s really plotting with Simon,” he said with his hands spread wide, “don’t you think they would have figured out they’d have better luck if Dawn tried to date you?” At his father’s surprise, Harry sighed. “I overheard you talking about it when Remus and Dumbledore were here this morning,” he explained.

“You need not skulk around corners in order to be part of a conversation,” Severus told him quietly, which made Harry’s ears heat. Severus continued when Harry nodded mutely, “I have concerns about Miss Ridley’s intentions.”

His ears still warm, Harry pointed out, “But once Lucius’ trial is over, she won’t have any reason to bother with me any longer.”

“If Lucius loses his bid for freedom, his lawyer will be even more anxious to fight to overturn the Wizengamot’s judgment.”

Harry scrunched up his lips as he considered his father. “What are you saying, then?” he asked. “It was one thing when Remus came along to Hogsmeade—we were in a public place, but now you don't want me to visit Sirius by myself?”

There was no hesitation in the Severus’ answer. “No. Not as long as he continues to see Miss Ridley socially.”

“But he said that he was only going to see her to try to find out information about Lucius and Simon.”

“That was his initial intention,” Severus agreed.

“But how do you know it still isn’t?”

“It isn’t, Harry,” Remus put in.

Harry wanted to press him, to ask just how he knew it, but he quickly decided he didn’t really want to know any specifics. “She might actually like him,” he said instead. Neither his father nor Remus looked convinced; hell, Harry wasn't even able to fool himself into believing that. “I can’t just not see Sirius though. Not now that it seems like he’s trying to be all right with everything.” He didn’t like the whinging quality in his own tone, but he found it difficult to repress.

“You may see your godfather as often as you wish,” Severus told him calmly. “But as long as he is blind to the possibility that Miss Ridley may have an ulterior motive, you will need to be accompanied by either myself or Lupin.”

“Sirius won’t let anyone hurt me,” Harry said tightly, bristling at the continuing talk of chaperones. He had been patient enough today, but this was too much!

“Black is completely oblivious to what men like Bavister Simon can accomplish,” Severus returned, seemingly unperturbed.

“I’m sixteen,” Harry argued. “I don’t need any help to keep Dawn from trying to convince me to help Lucius.”

“Whether or not you choose to use your status to help Lucius is your own choice,” Severus countered. “If that were my only concern, Harry,” Severus continued in a milder tone when Harry found himself frowning at his father's tone, “I would certainly not object so strenuously to any interaction with her.”

Harry tried to squelch his irritation, but it did little good. “Why exactly are you so concerned?” he asked. “Even if she tries to convince Sirius to help them take me from you, he won’t. And he’s not going to just hand me over to Simon, you know.”

“Harry, it would simply be foolish to take any risks,” Remus tried to interject but Harry shook his head.

“You don’t even trust Sirius that much?” he asked. “I don’t expect my dad to trust him, but he’s your friend.”

“Harry, it’s not-”

“You didn’t trust him once, and he ended up in Azkaban.”

Remus’ face immediately paled, and Harry shook his head quickly, realizing too late that the words had been unintentionally harsh, and unfair.

“I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Remus said softly. “You’re right, of course.” He cleared his throat a little. “I do trust him though…it’s Dawn I don’t trust. And I know Sirius well enough to know that he is quickly affected by someone he shares a bed with.”

Harry blanched at that.

“I should change into my teaching robes for the end of term feast,” Remus added.

“Remus…”

Remus paused in mid-turn toward the door. “I know, Harry,” he said with a thin smile. “I’ll see you both at the feast.” With that, he opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

Harry bit his bottom lip as door closed softly behind his friend. “Damn it,” he muttered.

“Remus is doing what I asked of him,” Severus spoke quietly after a subdued moment.

“You shouldn’t ask him to do that to Sirius,” Harry said, still facing the door.

“As you and I have discussed on previous occasions, Remus makes his own choices."

Harry turned around again. “How am I supposed to explain to Sirius that I can’t see him alone?”

“You may tell him the truth, if you wish.”

“I’m not going to tell him that Remus doesn’t trust him!”

“I do not trust Black.”

“Sirius wouldn’t let anything happen to me,” Harry insisted.

“Not intentionally,” Severus agreed; Harry clenched his jaw as he clamped down on his annoyance.

“Not at all.”

The muscles along Severus’ jaw flexed. “You will not see him alone,” he said tightly.

“It isn’t as if he’s getting married. What about when Dawn isn’t there?”

“No.”

There was no hint of compromise in Severus’ face.

And Harry didn’t even know why he cared enough to want to argue about it. Except that he was tired of being treated like a baby. He knew very well that his father was trying to protect him, and he understood the reasons for it. But he still didn’t’ like it. And since he liked even less, the realization that this discussion had the potential to become a huge row, he bit back his next retort.

“Ron was hoping for a game of Exploding Snap tonight,” he said. “Do you mind if I go up to the tower? I’ll just go with the other Gryffindors down to dinner.”

Severus frowned. “If you are angry with me, I would prefer we discuss it, rather than you attempting to escape.”

Harry glanced away for a second. “I’m not escaping,” he said tiredly when he had turned back. “I just don’t want to have a row about this.”

His father’s eyes betrayed his surprise. “I am certain we can have a discussion without it degenerating into a row, Harry.”

“No we can’t. Not about this.” Harry shoved his hands into his trousers’ pocket as he studied the evergreen standing next to their fireplace. “I trust Sirius, even if you don’t. And I can’t agree with you dictating when and how I can see him.”

Harry sensed, more than saw, his father stiffen since he was still studying the tree.

“I am not dictating-”

Harry sighed. See? he wanted to say, but on the whole it seemed a bad idea. “Can I go now?”

“I believe you are well aware that you do not need my permission to see your friends.”

The clipped, and slightly sarcastic remark made Harry hesitate, but the row would be inevitable if he didn’t leave. So with irritation making his ears buzz, Harry stepped into the Floo with a pinch of powder and called out, “Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts!”

--

Severus stopped pacing as his Floo flared to life. Harry's cheeks were flushed as he stepped onto the hearth rug. He looked away as soon as his caught Severus’ eye; his storm was radiating guilt. Severus’ relief quickly turned to irritation.

“It is after curfew.” The rebuke came out more harshly than he had intended.

Harry glanced at him swiftly. He looked away just as quickly, and nodded as he undid the clasp on his robes. “I know…sorry,” he mumbled into the folds as he hung the robes on the peg near Severus’ teaching robes.

When Harry turned around, they regarded one another in silence. Severus watched Harry brush his palms nervously against his trousers. For his own part, Severus was attempting to decide how to uphold his promise to his son. But even as annoyed as he was by Harry’s irresponsibility, or perhaps because of his irritation, Severus found the idea of reprimanding his son as unappealing as he always did.

“I was with Ginny,” Harry explained when the silence began to overwhelm him. His face flushed scarlet. “We weren’t…we…just lost track of time.”

Severus studied his son’s pinched face. “I would prefer that you tell me when you plan to be away all evening.” It was hardly a reprimand of which Severus Snape was worthy, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

Harry scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I didn’t really plan it…”

The Floo flared again. Minerva’s worried face came through the flames. She relaxed when she saw Harry. She glanced at Severus with a smile. “I see your son has been returned to you, Severus.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed, not looking at all amused. McGonagall simply nodded; she was still smiling as she disappeared back into the flames.

“You called McGonagall?”

“I did not know where you were.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Harry said, his guilt crashing against his storm.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous claim. “You thought I would not notice your absence?”

Harry shook his head slowly. “I just didn’t want to argue about Sirius…”

“I have no intention of arguing with you about Black,” Severus said matter-of-factly, and predictably, his son stiffened. “Harry-” Severus’ tone softened considerably. “-I will feel more at ease if I know you are safe.”

Harry frowned. “You said you wanted me to have a normal life.” Severus winced inwardly. “I shouldn’t need a chaperone every time I leave our quarters.”

“Once I can be certain there is no longer any threat-” Severus tried to defend his stance.

“And how long will that be, Dad?” Harry demanded quietly. “Neither Bavister Simon nor Lucius is exactly on death’s doorstep. And the rest of the Death Eaters and their friends aren’t going to volunteer to be Kissed, just to keep me safe.”

The accuracy in Harry’s words made Severus feel ill.

“I don’t want to live the last six years over again, constantly looking over my shoulder for the next threat,” Harry continued. “Especially not with my own friends and family.”

“I do not want that for you either,” Severus told his son wearily, bringing his thumb and forefinger up to massage his temple. “But until we can discover if Simon does have devious plans concerning you, we have no other choice.”

Severus watched Harry struggling not to snap at him. When he looked more in control, he said stiffly, “I think you’re overreacting.”

“I am doing what I think is best.”

Harry suddenly narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t just about Sirius, is it?”

Severus was both unprepared and hurt by the question. “I have taken no issue with your plans to see your godfather over the holidays. You may spend as much time with him as you wish, as I-”

“This isn’t about spending time with Sirius!” Harry finally huffed, obviously having reached his breaking point. “I just don’t want a bloody babysitter!”

Severus forced his voice to stay even and controlled. “Remus will not be a babysitter, Harry. He and Black are friends-” He managed to say the word without even curling a lip. “-and he would likely accompany you even without the need for caution.”

There was a tense pause as Harry looked away, toward the forlorn tree. “I still think you’re worrying over nothing,” he said when his green eyes came back to meet Severus’, but he looked resigned, and extremely unhappy.

“I do hope I am.”

“Yeah,” was Harry’s gloomy answer.

As Severus switched his gaze from his son’s unhappy face to the empty Christmas tree, he decided he would need to have a little chat with Black at the earliest opportunity. If the fool could not see past the pair of perky breasts and honeyed perfume to the serpent lying in wait on his own, then Severus would force him to.

1980

“I hope you’re not planning on giving that one to Severus. I don’t think he’s all that fond of maroon.”

Lily turned slightly so that she could glance over her shoulder at James. He was balancing two trays of cookies and a pitcher of something vaguely foul-smelling which he had deemed necessary at any Christmas celebration. She wrinkled her nose at him.

“It’s for Harry,” she informed him; James gaped in mock-horror. “Severus knows I was in Gryffindor, James.”

“Sure,” James said with a nod, “but can you just imagine his reaction if Harry was sorted into Gryffindor?”

“Harry’s my son as well,” Lily said with a little sniff, to which James shrugged.

“And as such, I would be proud to see him in your house.” Severus’ deep voice from the doorway sent a shiver up Lily’s spine. She turned and caught her husband’s eye. He didn’t smile but his face softened enough to make Lily smile in response; he had relaxed so much around James in the past several months, that Lily often had a hard time believing that they were ever enemies.

Harry was nestled against Severus’ chest, scrubbed clean and in his new Christmas sleeper. His bright green eyes were round with awe as he stared, unblinking, at the Christmas tree, which seemed to fill up half the room.

“I’ll go get the rest of the food,” James told them as he passed Severus and Harry; he reached a hand out to smooth the infant’s thick black hair. “Lily has something to show you before Sirius and Remus descend,” he said with a wink for Lily.

“Oh stop it, James,” Lily huffed. James just laughed, giving Severus and Harry a wide grin before he left the room.

Severus adjusted Harry in his arms so that he had a better view of the tree. “Those are candles, Harry,” he instructed as he brought Harry closer to the tree, “charmed to endlessly burn without dripping wax. Your mother is particularly skilled in Charms.”

Lily smiled into her palm as she watched them. Severus took a step back when Harry reached out a tiny fist, as if to grab one of the flickering flames.

“They are extremely hot,” Severus cautioned. Uncoordinated as he was though, Harry missed, eliciting a small smile from Severus as their son relentlessly tried again, grabbing a fistful of air over and over.

Lily came to stand beside them; she entwined her arm through Severus’. Severus glanced down at her; his black eyes were softly reflecting the twinkling lights from the tree.

“You wished to show me something?” he queried. Lily smiled at the reserved anticipation she could hear in his voice.

“It’s really for Harry,” she told him, feeling a bit shy of showing her husband her creation. Severus raised his eyebrows expectantly.

So Lily raised the spun-glass ball which she’d created with quite a bit of intricate wand-waving. The maroon swirls dovetailed with silver, merging the two in several places. Lily watched Severus’ eyes tracing over the patterns as they moved, knowing he could easily discern the nearly-camouflaged lion and snake occasionally swirling lazily among the colorful eddies.

Harry cooed in delight as his eyes zeroed in on the enchanted ornament. Severus plucked it gently from Lily’s fingers and held it close to Harry’s eager face. Severus’ finger hovered just above the waving currents of color.

“Do you see the lion, Harry?” he asked, as he pointed with his finger. “Watch carefully,” he directed, “and you will see it change into a snake.” The words, of course, were lost on Harry, but he watched the patterns anyway. “It is lovely,” Severus said quietly as he looked down at Lily.

Lily smiled up at him. “I knew you would think so.” She stretched up on her toes, offering her lips to Severus. Severus dipped his head, Harry in between them, and kissed her softly. “I’m glad you liked it,” she whispered. “I wanted to make him something really special for his first Christmas. The charm took weeks to develop,” she told him. She had had to owl Flitwick twice for pointers.

“Despite James’ disagreement, it is an apt gift for our son. I am certain he will appreciate its symbolism as much as I do.”

“James just doesn’t know you well enough yet,” Lily assured him, not wanting to upset the delicate friendship forming between the two men.

“Or perhaps James simply enjoys ribbing our resident Slytherin,” James interjected as he came back into the room, this time with savory appetizers. Severus raised an eyebrow. James grinned, glancing over at Harry and his gift. “Pardon me, make that our oldest Slytherin,” he corrected.

Severus nodded, a trifle smugly at the acknowledgement.

“It does beg the question, though…” James went on, “…which House will he be sorted into? He certainly has the makings of a Gryffindor, though Slytherin would do well to take him in…you know, help change their less than stellar reputation a little…” He smiled innocently at Severus’ affronted look.

“Hush James,” Lily chided. She shooed the irrepressible man out of the sitting room to get the last of the trays. “I’ll help,” she said as she followed behind him.

“Shall we hang your mother’s ornament, Harry?” she heard Severus ask. She turned before she reached the door to the kitchen to watch as Severus delicately hung the ball from one of the boughs. “Whichever House you are sorted into, Harry,” he said softly as the two of them continued to gaze at the ornament, “you are my son first.”

1996

Severus shook the few remnants of lingering ash from his robes as he stepped out of the Floo. Black was watching him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. As soon as Severus had assured the mutt that Harry was perfectly all right, he had agreed to let him enter; Black looked like he now regretted the decision.

“I have plans, so whatever it is you came here to say, say it quickly,” Black said as soon as Severus stilled his movements.

“A date with Miss Ridley, no doubt,” Severus drawled, enjoying the scowl that immediately appeared on Black’s face.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Snape.”

“As a matter of fact,” Severus told him cooly, “Miss Ridley is the reason for my visit.”

Black’s look of confusion amused Severus; he almost smiled.

“She isn’t here,” Black said curtly. “And what could you want with Dawn anyway?”

“I assure you, Black, I do not want anything from Miss Ridley.”

“Not good enough for you?”

“Not nearly.”

Black glowered at him. “What the hell do you want, Snivellus?”

Severus’ teeth gnashed together. He clamped his emotions tightly away and ignored the taunting smirk on Black’s face. “As long as you insist upon exploring a relationship with Lucius Malfoy’s advocate, your access to Harry will be restricted,” he bit out.

Black stared at him for a long moment, and then as understanding finally dawned, he narrowed his eyes. “Dawn isn’t some sort of spy for Lucius.”

“It is enough that she works for Lucius at all,” Severus retorted. “Miss Ridley is employed by the Malfoy family, Black. That alone should be enough to quell any urges you might have to pursue her.”

Black glared at him. “Malfoy’s her client. Her work has nothing to do with who she is,” he argued. He smiled a familiar, taunting smile. “She isn’t even a Slytherin, so I can’t think why you are so worried.”

“Lucius Malfoy attempted to kill your godson, more than once,” Severus reminded him through his teeth, outwardly ignoring the barb. When the words didn’t seem to affect Black, Severus continued scathingly, “You were there, in the Department of Mysteries, Black. Lucius would have killed Harry if he could have.”

“Dawn isn’t Lucius,” Black snapped; his hands were restless by his sides. “She hasn’t done anything to Harry.”

“It was only days ago that you thought it would be wise to use her to discover information about Simon and Lucius. And have you already forgotten that it was Miss Ridley who suggested that Harry speak on behalf of Bellatrix?” he asked sarcastically. “Or perhaps you are suggesting that your lady friend is ignorant of exactly what Bellatrix is as well?”

“She was only doing what Lucius asked her to do!”

“And just how far will she take his requests?”

“You’re actually suggesting that she would hurt Harry because he asked her to?” Black asked incredulously.

“No,” Severus countered on a hiss. “I am suggesting that Miss Ridley is feigning an interest in you, in order to manipulate you to do as Lucius wishes.”

“You’re delusional,” Black spat. “Dawn isn’t feigning anything.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “No?” he drawled. “Oh, surely you must realize, Black, that a woman can pretend such things quite easily.”

Sirius’ face burned. But then he smiled and shrugged. “Oh sure, Snape,” he agreed in a falsely-conciliatory voice. “Lily must have had that skill down to a science to have spent all those years with you. Of course,” he went on blithely as Severus felt the wind knocked out of his chest, “I can understand your confusion about Dawn. But she doesn’t have to work so hard with me. Lily wouldn’t have had to either. She might have actually enjoyed herself—what’s this Snape? Can’t bear the thought of Lily with me?”

Severus barely even realized that he had drawn his wand; it was hovering just in front of Black’s nose. The question snapped him back enough that he could push down most of the fury that burned his fiery shields. He did not move his wand though.

“Do not ever speak Lily’s name in such a disgusting context again,” he said in a low voice.

“Or what, Snivellus?” Black challenged, not even flinching from the wand tip. “You’ll hex me? And how will you explain that to Harry, eh?”

Severus’ expression didn’t change, nor did his wand arm waver; he wouldn’t allow Black to know how much the words had deflated him. “I will tell him that his godfather spoke ill of his mother,” he said evenly.

The mutt’s smirk faltered.

“I have already told him, that as long as you continue to be blind to Miss Ridley’s obvious coercion, he is not to be in your presence without either myself or Lupin present,” Severus went on smoothly. “It will not take much for me to forbid you from seeing him altogether.” The threat, no matter how empty it was, felt good on Severus’ tongue.

Black’s face transformed completely then; his lips twisted into an ugly snarl. “You can’t keep Harry from me."

“I can, and I shall,” Severus returned tonelessly, his wand moving closer to Black’s nose. The horror-struck look on the mutt’s face was comical.

“Harry won’t agree to that,” Black sputtered.

“Harry is sixteen. And though you seem unable to grasp the concept, I am his father.”

“So this is your idea of what it means to be a father to Harry, then?” Black demanded. “To keep him away from people who love him—to keep him caged in a dungeon for the rest of his life? I am beginning to see even more merit in Simon’s idea-”

The rest of Black’s words were cut off, and Severus stepped back to watch the results of his silent Strangling Hex with grim satisfaction. Black’s hands went up to his throat; his fingers scrabbled pointlessly against his throat as he gurgled at Severus.

“I realize that there is nothing I can threaten that would stop such an asinine course,” Severus said acidly. He flicked his wrist. Black’s eyes stopped bulging out of his head. “The knowledge that Harry would never forgive you should be enough, however.”

Black was sputtering and coughing as he tried to return his vocal chords to a useful state.

“I do hope your little trysts with Miss Ridley are compensation enough for losing any freedom you might have had where Harry is concerned,” Severus drawled, unable to resist the barb. Black’s face, as predicted, flushed a deep red. Severus smiled slightly and turned away toward the Floo.

“Wait, Snape…”

The raspy, pathetic plea had Severus turning slowly back to see the mutt beg. He was unprepared for the fist that smashed into his face.

Severus stumbled back, almost unable to catch himself on the edge of the high mantel. He half-slumped against the aging bricks; the room was swirling around him. Black’s face swam in his vision.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy explaining that to Harry as well,” Black said, his voice dripping with scorn and triumph. There was a vague scraping sound, and then Black’s voice again, calling out, “Dawn Ridley’s Home, London.”

Blearily, Severus watched the flames engulf Black. He closed his eyes to anchor himself, and pushed off the bricks when he was steady again--time seemed to be passing slowly. Ignoring the tang of coppery blood seeping into his mouth, Severus probed his nose with ginger fingers.

Broken.

Well-used to this particular spell, Severus pointed his wand at his own nose this time, and chanted the spell to knit the bone back together. He grit his teeth as pain radiated through his face. A Cleaning Spell removed the trail of blood in the next instant, and then with more controlled movements, Severus straightened his robes and slid his wand back into his sleeve.

He stepped into the Floo with only a trace of a wobble before he was spinning through the network. He came to a fluid stop in his own fireplace. He paused in surprise as he found Harry sprawled out on the sofa—fast asleep and with the note that Severus had left on the table, crumpled in his fingers.

His fringe had fallen into his eyes; his head angled as if he’d been watching the fireplace, which he probably had been.

Severus bent down and with a gentle hand, shook Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s answering mumble brought a smile to Severus’ lips, followed by a grimace as more pain shot through his nose. He paused in his efforts to wake his son only long enough to call for and swallow a vial of Painkilling Potion.

“Harry…” he prodded when the pain had vanished; he shook Harry’s shoulder again.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at Severus. “You’re back,” he said fuzzily, though the relief in his voice was plain. He stared at Severus for a few seconds before pushing himself up to sit. “Where did you go?” he asked, massaging the sleep from his eyes. The parchment crinkled in his fingers.

“I was attempting to learn more about Lucius’ plans,” Severus told him vaguely, and was unsurprised at Harry’s blank look; his green eyes were still muted with fatigue. Much to Severus’ relief, Harry didn’t press for details. He simply yawned.

“What time is it?” he wondered through the last of his yawn.

“Half past midnight,” Severus answered, estimating. Harry had only gone to sleep less than two hours before. “Did you have trouble sleeping?” Severus inquired with concern as he swept his robes off his shoulders and hung them beside the dungeon door. He and Harry had parted ways on less than comfortable terms.

“I woke up when you activated the Floo,” Harry answered, running a tired hand through his tousled hair.

“I apologize,” Severus said with a frown. “I did not mean to wake you.”

Harry shrugged. The last vestiges of sleep were draining from his face as he glanced briefly over at the tree, still waiting dejectedly beside the fireplace. “I realized while I was waiting for you that we didn’t decorate the tree. I know I wasn’t really in the mood earlier…” He stared glumly at the blue cushions, his fingers teasing against Severus’ missive.

“I had planned to trim the tree tomorrow, in any case—after your friends boarded the train in Hogsmeade,” Severus assured him.

“Oh.” Harry raised his eyes then; Severus forced his tense muscles to relax. Harry responded in kind; he settled back against the cushions and brought his wandering hands into his lap. “I was talking with Ginny earlier…about Sirius and what you said.”

Severus nodded warily, not at all inclined toward another argument with his son. But Harry didn’t seem to notice.

“Couldn’t you work out some sort of spell or charm that wouldn’t allow Dawn to come near me or something…or Sirius could take some sort of vow that-”

“Harry,” Severus interrupted with enough force that Harry immediately fell silent, “it is far simpler to allow myself or Remus to accompany you.” When Harry opened his mouth to counter that, Severus continued, “The type of spells you are speaking of, are extremely complex.”

Harry slumped back against the cushions. Sighing, Severus sat in the chair opposite. He steepled his fingers, angling his elbows so that they rested on his knees and asked quietly, “Under any other circumstances, Harry, I would not hesitate to allow you as much freedom as a responsible young man, such as you are, deserves.”

Harry colored at that, and Severus wasn’t certain if it was because he was pleased by the compliment or still resentful of the strictures.

“As soon as such strictures are no longer necessary, you will have the same freedom as your peers. I want you to have a normal life as much as you do, Harry,” Severus said sincerely.

Harry sighed. “I know. And I know you’re not trying to keep me from that,” he said as he punched one of the sofa pillows lightly. “I just hate this.”

I just hate this…

Severus stared at his son.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be; not now that Voldemort had finally been put to rest. Secrecy and cleverly-crafted plans were supposed to have been put behind them. He had told Harry himself that he would be free from Voldemort’s influences. The unintentional lie lodged like a rock in Severus’ stomach.

Harry was staring at the tree again.

Severus closed his eyes briefly as he tried to convince himself that his earlier decision was the best course for his son. He was unsuccessful.

“I will attempt to devise an alternative solution,” he said after he’d opened his eyes and found his son again.

Harry’s eyes snapped to him. “Really?” His entire posture had transformed.

“I will attempt it,” Severus stressed, cautioning his son with a pointed look; Harry sobered instantly but his eyes were brighter than they had been a moment ago. “And until I have an alternate plan in place, my original decision remains in force. As long as Black refuses to believe in the possibility of treachery from Miss Ridly, you will not see him alone.”

Harry nodded solemnly, and Severus was momentarily pleased by his ability to convey a stern enough tone; the fact that he had waffled in his original decree was easy enough to ignore.

“Can I help you?” Harry asked; he scooted forward on his cushion.

Amused, Severus nodded. “If you wish. Any other plan will require research. We can begin tomorrow.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks.”

“Do not thank me yet,” Severus warned him. “Your safety is more important to me than your freedom.”

Harry deflated a little at that, but still he nodded. “I know.” He smiled again, this one a silent apology. “Thank you, even if it doesn’t work,” he added. With Severus’ nod of acceptance, Harry rubbed his hands together. With a bit of a sly grin, he asked, “So…if we’re going to be holed up in the lab tomorrow, maybe we ought to trim the tree now?”

Severus raised a thin eyebrow. “It is nearly one o’clock.”

Harry was not dissuaded, however. He glanced around the room. “You said you have ornaments,” he reminded Severus hopefully. Severus quirked his lips. With a quick wave of his wand, two rectangular boxes—one smaller than the other—appeared in front of the sofa, their covers already removed.

Grinning, Harry slid off the sofa and plunked onto his knees in front of the boxes.

“Your mother and I had very few items in storage at the Cottage,” Severus began apologetically. “Most of these are new…”

Severus trailed off as his son looked up at him; his green eyes were shining with excitement.

“Which ones?” Harry asked eagerly.

Unaccountably moved by the question, Severus could only point to the smallest box. He watched as Harry picked up one of the delicate spun-glass ornaments. The colorful swirls caught the light as Harry twisted the ball in his hand.

“Your mother made that for you.”

Harry looked over to Severus in surprise. “Made it? With magic, you mean?”

Severus nodded. “She wanted you to have one with both Slytherin and Gryffindor colors.” His eyes softened at the memory. “Though I believe she secretly hoped you’d be sorted into Gryffindor…”

Harry smiled as he watched the snake and lion fighting for space on the sphere.

“James attempted to make one for you after Lily made the first one. It is in the box as well.”

Harry kept Lily’s ornament in his hand as he leaned down again. He grinned as he extracted another, less-spherical ornament from the box.

“James was far less accomplished at such charms,” Severus said dryly.

“It’s a bit lopsided,” Harry agreed, though the assessment was far too kind. Harry peered at the static, childish lion on the flat side of the ornament. “It doesn’t move,” he chuckled. He held up both ornaments, comparing them. “Do we have lights?” Harry asked, still staring at his mother’s gift. “The Dursleys always had the colored ones.”

Severus raised his wand, ignoring the pang he felt at the longing he heard in Harry’s voice. “You would like colored lights, then?” he inquired smartly, but Harry shook his head. He was holding the two ornaments close to his chest.

“Clear, I think,” he said quietly. Severus nodded wordlessly, and with a simple spell and a short series of arcs, the tree was alight with tiny glittering bulbs. Harry stared at the tree, and then his face split into a huge grin. “Perfect,” he breathed softly.

Severus silently agreed.

--

“It’s not reflecting yet,” Harry told his father, though he didn’t look up from the murky sapphire. “Should I keep stirring?”

“Yes. Add the toenails,” Severus murmured distractedly; he was poring over a musty tome—one he’d said had belonged to his great-grandfather. They’d been in the lab for most of the last few days, working on two different potions, one of which was his father’s original Curse Repellent—the other a potion which would only work if Sirius took it willingly.

Overall, a change in plans didn’t seem promising at the moment, especially considering Harry was going to see Sirius in a few hours.

“Er…which one?” Harry questioned even as he continued to stir. “Dad?” he added when Severus only nodded.

Severus immediately looked up. He tilted his head in inquiry at Harry’s look of confusion.

“Stir? Or Toenails?” Harry asked again.

Severus blinked at the question, and Harry smiled at his uncharacteristic absentmindedness.

“You said to add the toenails,” he clarified.

Severus leaned over a bit to peer into the cauldron. “Not until the surface of the potion is reflective, no,” he said, just as if Harry had been the one to suggest they put in the Horned Skink Toenails, and then went back to studying the open text.

Harry went back to stirring, still amused.

His father cursed under his breath a moment later; Harry looked up from his stirring. “What’s the matter?”

“We cannot go any further, not without a sample of Black’s blood.” Severus closed the book with a solid thump.

Harry studied his father’s frustrated features. “Should I stop stirring, then?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“No,” Severus said with a small sigh. “Perhaps it is time to inform Black of our plans.”

“Remus thought he would agree,” Harry reminded his father. “I mean, it doesn’t much matter to Sirius if I visit him alone or with Remus, but he’ll agree if I ask him.”

His father murmured what could have been an assent, though his eyes were more shadowed than they had been a moment ago as he leaned forward to examine the boiling potion. “Three and half more minutes should suffice.”

Harry nodded, and continued on with his stirring, no matter that his arm had long since begun to feel like it would fall off into the potion. But this had been his idea, after all. And if it worked, he could be one step closer to just being like everyone else. The notion made his arm ache a little less. Which was good since he was planning on helping Sirius’ build his new house today with Ginny and Ron today. He would probably need his wand arm.

“I think it’s ready,” he said when he could see his reflection rippling on the surface of the blue potion. Severus nodded his agreement after a quick assessmnt, and Harry carefully added the toenails. His father studied the liquid as it roiled and churned.

“Excellent,” he finally decreed. Harry grinned at the praise. Severus’ upper lip shifted into a smile as he plucked a vial from the bench. “If Black agrees-”

The rest of Severus’ words were cut off as the Floo flared in the sitting room.

He and Harry turned to see Dumbledore’s head sticking out of the flames, looking extremely anxious.

“Albus, are you all right?” Severus asked as he stepped into the sitting room.

“Alastor has been injured,” Dumbledore said, his voice strained. “Hagrid found him in Knockturn Alley. He was a hit with a self-perpetuating curse. Poppy is on holiday, as you know. We could use your assistance, if you wouldn’t mind. Hagrid and I brought him back home.” He shook his head when Severus’ eyes widened in alarm. “There was no sign of Death Eaters, though Nymphadora and Kingsley are there right now.”

“Will he be all right?” Harry asked. Dumbledore shook his head.

“I don’t know, Harry.” To Severus, he pressed, “Severus?”

Severus nodded briskly. “I will be with you in a moment,” he promised, asking no questions at all. Dumbledore nodded tiredly and pulled his head back through the flames. Severus turned to Harry. “Contact Remus and inform him of the situation. I will contact you after I speak with Shacklebolt. Do not leave until I am certain it is safe."

“Remus is coming here,” Harry reminded him. Severus nodded.

“I would prefer you wait here until I have a chance to speak with Shacklebolt, even with Remus to accompany you, though you are likely in no danger. We will test the potion with Black’s blood if he agrees.”

Harry nodded reluctantly. “All right.”

Severus clasped Harry’s shoulder and then Harry watched as he was whisked away through the flames. He sighed and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. He threw it down and called for Remus’ quarters. But when he stuck his head through, Remus’ parlor was empty.

“Remus?” he called. With no answering greeting, Harry simply stepped through the flames and onto Remus’ hearth rug. “Remus?” he called again. He jumped as the flames roared to life again.

Sirius’ head came through the green flames. He looked startled to find Harry standing in the middle of Remus’ sitting room. “Harry? Where’s Remus?”

“I came here to find him,” Harry answered. “My dad wants me to wait for him. Moody was injured…suspiciously, I guess.”

“I know. Tonks just fire-called me. I wondered if you wouldn’t be able to come…” Sirius cleared his throat. “Listen, Harry…Snape told me that Remus is acting as a chaperone for us.”

“He did?” Harry asked in surprise.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Sirius grimaced as he shook his head. “He just came to visit me at Grimmauld Place.” He shrugged, and Harry wondered why his dad hadn’t told him about that particular visit. “And I told Dawn that Snape’s paranoid. No, Harry, she understood,” he said hastily as Harry gaped at him. “I know Remus doesn’t trust her either, and to be honest, neither did I, at first. But she really does care about me. She would never hurt you, and either way, Harry, I would never let anyone hurt you.” Sirius’ grey eyes were dark with worry.

“I know, Sirius,” Harry assured him. “I tried to tell Dad and Remus that, but it’s hard to explain…we’ve been through an awful lot…”

“I know that, Harry,” Sirius said with a sigh. He smiled hopefully though. “Er...Snape said he didn't want you around Dawn...and well, she isn’t with me, so if you want I’ll come through to Remus’ quarters, and then we can go on straightaway to the new house and wait for Remus. All right?”

Harry hesitated. “You aren’t allowed access to Moody’s Floo, are you?” he asked, wondering if perhaps his father would agree--even though he still loathed Sirius, he wouldn't be able to claim that Sirius wasn't being perfectly reasonable.

“Moody has his Floo locked to most everybody," Sirius snorted.

Harry sighed.

“Dawn hasn’t been to the plot yet—she doesn’t know where it is,” Sirius told him, half-mocking. “And Ginny and Ron will be there shortly—probably with Arthur as a chaperone.” He smiled in a self-deprecating way and Harry’s decision was made.

Remus would be along shortly, after all…and Harry already knew that Mr. Weasley was going to be escorting his two youngest children. And as for his father, well...Harry was certain he’d be irritated, at least until he could explain that Sirius had actually been trying to do as he’d been asked to do. Harry pushed away the guilt chewing at his gut.

His father couldn’t be really angry at him anyway, and he’d explain…

“We should leave a note for Remus,” Harry said. Sirius grinned.

“I’ll do you one better.” He gestured for Harry to move aside. When Harry did, Sirius stepped into the room. He drew his wand and with a single spell, a giant dog leapt from the tip and bounded through the walls. “You ready?” Sirius asked excitedly as he re-pocketed his wand. Harry smiled, the excitement always contagious with Sirius. “Come on, then. We’ll go past the Hogwarts’ gate and you can side-along with me.”

Harry made a face, and Sirius laughed. He slung an arm over Harry’s shoulders and together they left Remus’ quarters. It didn’t take them long to leave the castle proper, since it was deserted except for a cheerful Flitwick on his way out of the library.

Once they’d passed the gates, Sirius wrapped his arms tightly around his godson. “Hold on,” he said, still grinning. Harry closed his eyes as Sirius spun on his heel and both of them were turned inside out.

They appeared with a loud crack in the middle of a partially-constructed two-story house. Sirius released him and Harry stepped back, his eyes roaming over the new construction with admiration.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry spun sharply at the familiar, slightly drawling voice.

Dawn Ridley was standing near the edge of the property. She smiled slowly as he stared into her ice-blue eyes. "You're finally here," she said quietly.

1996

Fear prickled Harry’s skin as he tried to make himself stop looking at Dawn. As if caught in a trance, she stepped toward him.

“What are you doing here, Dawn?”

Dawn’s head jerked sideways, away from Harry. Sirius was gazing at her curiously, and Harry felt an odd relief at that.

Dawn’s fluid steps had stopped. Her face eased into a smile for Sirius. “I thought you and Harry could use some help.”

Sirius’ brow wrinkled as he gazed back at her. “How did you find it, though…?”

Dawn smiled again. “It was easy enough to find it in the Hall of Records…I wanted to surprise you…”

There was a loud crack. A panic-stricken Remus appeared in front of them. As soon as he saw Dawn, he stepped in front of Harry, blocking Dawn’s view. Harry could see his fingers curled around his concealed wand.

Harry put his hand on Remus’ arm. “Remus,” he tried to protest, but Remus quickly moved his arm so that he was grasping Harry’s arm instead.

“Not another word, Harry,” he ordered tersely, emphasizing his words with a quick squeeze that was actually painful. Harry fell silent, stung by the unmistakable rebuke—and the anger in his friend’s tone.

“Moony,” Sirius interjected, glancing at Harry’s face, and then back again to Remus’.

“From you either,” Remus snapped, not even looking at Sirius. Sirius looked a little crestfallen at that. To Dawn, Remus said, “Severus made it perfectly clear to you and to your clients that he does not wish you to speak with Harry.”

Harry watched Dawn’s gaze flick toward him. She studied Harry, her eyes narrowed, but then she looked back to Remus, and smiled very slightly. “I didn’t think that request had anything to do with personal associations, Remus. After all, I am planning on spending the majority of my time with Sirius…”

Remus’ back muscles tautened. But before he could say anything, Sirius stepped up to Dawn. He bent his head close to hers, and spoke quietly enough that Harry couldn’t hear. Remus was still holding his arm; he shifted a little, but immediate pressure from Remus’ hand stilled his attempt to move away.

Whatever Sirius said, Dawn sighed. Sirius pulled back and Dawn’s eyes immediately found Harry again. But only for an instant, before she said in a long-suffering voice to Remus, “I certainly wouldn’t want to upset Harry’s father.” She smiled. “Severus would be devastated if something were to happen to his son…wouldn’t he?”

Her blue eyes pierced Harry’s again and he shivered as a cold wind rushed across the property, ruffling his hair.

“I’ll see you soon, Sirius,” she whispered, still looking at Harry as she caressed Sirius’ stubbled jaw with her fingers. And then she turned on the spot and Disapparated from their midst.

As soon as she disappeared, Remus rounded on Harry. “You were told not to go off by yourself.”

Fully irritated now that Dawn had gone, Harry shook his arm loose, and stepped away from Remus. “I wasn’t by myself,” he pointed out, trying to keep his tone neutral even though he could feel his face flushing.

“Don’t be smart,” Remus snapped, making Harry’s stomach swoop and whisking his irritation away. “You had no business coming here without me.”

“Remus, he’s perfectly all right, just like I told you he would be,” Sirius interjected quickly, looking surprised. Harry was more than a bit taken aback himself; it had been quite some time since Remus had scolded him, and never in that sort of tone.

Remus turned sharply; his eyes boring furiously into Sirius. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he demanded. “Did you think Severus was merely being playful when he came to warn you not to see Harry alone?”

“Dawn wasn’t supposed to be here,” Sirius defended himself. With a scowl, he added, “And I still think Snape is being unreasonable and daft. Dawn wouldn’t hurt a pixie, and even if she could, I think I can handle it.”

“Are you blind, Sirius?” Remus asked intently. “There’s something very off with that woman. The way she moves…the way she speaks. And the way she looks at Harry makes me believe that Voldemort could have been reincarnated into her body. How can you not see it?”

It should have been a funny image, but Harry couldn’t crack a smile.

Sirius shook his head in slow bewilderment. “I think your associations with Snape over the last few months have sent you round the twist, Moony. Dawn isn’t a Death Eater. And she certainly isn’t Voldemort.”

Remus scowled fiercely. “She’s working for Lucius and Bavister Simon, and you know very well what Simon wants for Harry.”

Sirius glared at him. “I already refused his request, Remus, what else do you want me to do?”

“His guardianship request?” Harry tried to ask, but both men ignored him.

“I want you to stop seeing her, Sirius!”

“Oh, you do?” Sirius shot back. “And why is that, eh, Moony?”

Remus’ lips were set in a thin line as he glared at Sirius, but instead of answering, he swung back around to Harry. “We’re going back to Hogwarts.”

But Harry shook his head. “Remus, I-”

A reverberating whoosh echoed through the quiet field. Three red-headed Weasleys appeared in what would probably be Sirius’ kitchen. All of their smiles faltered as they took in the scene in front of them. Ginny stepped toward Harry, but her father’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Is everything all right?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Remus told him, with a narrow-eyed glance at Harry. “Harry and I are just leaving.”

“We don’t need to leave,” Harry said hastily. “You’re here and Dawn isn’t-”

“You can’t honestly believe I’ll allow you stay here after you deliberately defied your father?” Remus asked incredulously.

“I didn’t-”

“You were told over and over that you weren’t to come here without one of us,” Remus interrupted again, making Harry feel like a child. “And I can’t believe you’d treat Severus with such disrespect, after all the leeway he’s given you over the past months. Especially,” he added with a severe frown, “as you know how difficult it is for him to make any sort of restrictions on you.”

Harry’s cheeks prickled with embarrassment. “I thought he’d understand if I just explained-”

Remus nodded brusquely at him. “He’s been far too lenient with you, Harry, which you are taking advantage of.” He took Harry’s shoulder as Harry deflated a little at Remus’ sharp and very public admonishment. He ducked his head from Ginny’s and Ron’s stares—and Sirius’, who was gaping at both of them. “Now, we are leaving and you can explain to your father just why you decided to disobey him.” He turned to go, but Sirius held out a hand to stop them.

“You aren’t his father, Remus, and Harry can stay if he wants to,” he said with a scowl. “He’s with me, and perfectly safe. Since when don’t you trust me with Harry?”

“Since you prioritize a woman you barely know over your godson’s safety,” Remus said quietly, his face and voice full of soft hurt.

“He is safe here, Moony,” Sirius said, his voice almost plaintive as Sirius took Harry’s other shoulder. “He’s not a child,” he went on. “If he wants to stay here, it should be his decision, not Snape’s.”

Remus opened his mouth, and then simply shook his head and shut it very slowly again. “Let’s go, Harry,” he said wearily. Harry bit his lip, waffling between arguing with Remus and simply allowing Remus to take him home where he would no doubt insist that he explain every misstep in the past hour to his father.

Looking carefully at Remus, he tested the waters. “But it’s all right now, Remus-”

Without a word, Remus turned both of them away from Sirius. Resigned, Harry let himself be prodded.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked worriedly as Harry passed.

“Yeah, what happened, mate?” Ron wondered, still beside Mr. Weasley, who was looking on.

“Nothing,” Harry lied quickly as he tried to downplay what had quickly turned into a humiliating spectacle. “I can explain everything later to my dad, Remus, if we can just-”

“No, we cannot ‘just’ anything, Harry,” Remus said shortly. “And you will explain everything when we get back to Hogwarts.”

“I believe I would prefer an explanation now.”

Harry, and everybody else, turned.

Severus, his black robes whipping in a storm of fabric around him, was standing just off to the side, though how he’d managed to appear so silently, Harry had no idea. He hadn’t any time to ponder on that particular conundrum however; his father’s grim features immediately took all of Harry’s attention.

Silently, his gaze fixed on Harry, Severus lifted the small green crystal which they’d used at Riddle manor, to prove his identity, but Harry had no trouble identifying his father, simply by the low thrum of anger pulsing against Harry’s storm.

"Instituo," Severus said, turning to Remus, who nodded. The crystal swung against Severus’ chest as he turned back to Harry. “You were told to wait,” he said in a low voice, obviously attempting to keep some measure of privacy in the overcrowded, unfinished sitting room.

Harry tried to ignore the quiet irritation in his father’s voice, but it was rather difficult as it felt like his dad’s black eyes were boring holes into him. “I know, but I couldn’t find Remus, and-”

Severus’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “How did you get here without Remus?”

Harry stared at his father, trying to figure out how to explain.

“I brought him here.”

Severus took a slow breath through his nostrils. Harry felt his father’s irritation flare into a brief fury as he turned to Sirius, but Severus’ face was eerily still.

“You brought him here?” he repeated dully.

“Dawn wasn’t supposed to be here,” Harry hastily tried to explain.

Severus stared at him, his face slumped with hurt, but then the muscles around his eyes and mouth tightened minutely. Harry throat burned as he tried to loosen his tongue. But Severus said quietly, “We need to return home.”

“But wait…I can explain-”

“Enough, Harry James,” his father interrupted quietly. His dark eyes were soaked with disappointment, and Harry closed his mouth slowly as a slow burn crawled up his neck and spread through his cheeks. His stomach churned with shame as he stared at his father.

Severus’ lips were pressed in a thin pink line as he gazed back at Harry. And then, he pivoted slightly on his heel and stepped off the bare floor of Sirius’ new sitting room and into the soft grass. He turned and waited silently, his gaze directed above Harry’s head.

Harry swallowed hard.

Sirius was staring at him.

Harry bowed his head and walked over to where his father was standing. Severus put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and turned him face-first into his chest. The ache in his own chest deepening, Harry’s shoulders slumped; Severus pulled him close, preparing to cushion him against the impact of Apparition. And then Severus turned on the spot and they were whirled away from Sirius’ new home.

Sirius watched them go, his anger completely drained away.

Remus put a hand on his shoulder, but Sirius shrugged it off, not really even realizing he had made the movement as he stared, trying to understand how it was that Snape could have changed so much.

1996

Harry and Severus popped back into existence, and dizziness roiled through Harry as he tried to reorient himself. Severus didn’t release him, holding him steady until he could easily make out the row of small buttons along Severus’ waistcoat. As if he somehow knew exactly how long it would take for Harry to get his bearings, Severus stepped back. Feeling ridiculously young, Harry looked up at his father.

The disappointment hadn’t left his face. Nor had the anger diminished. And Harry couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Severus turned, and only then did Harry realize they weren’t outside Hogwarts’ metal gates. He looked around in confusion, but then he saw Moody half-sitting on his bed, propped up by pillows. Dumbledore was standing beside him. Dumbledore looked relieved; Moody just looked grumpy.

Severus took Harry’s elbow and pointed to a chair beside Moody’s bed. “Sit,” he directed curtly. Harry’s face burned as he obeyed; both Dumbledore and Moody were staring at him, Dumbledore with a mortifyingly knowing look, and Moody with a glower. Harry, imaging his spinning blue eye could actually reach in and pluck his thoughts out, dropped his gaze to study his jeans.

“Well?” Moody demanded, but Harry didn’t bother looking up, deciding it was very unlikely that the grizzled old Auror was speaking to him. “Was she there, then?”

“Yes,” Severus said, his voice tightly controlled as if he didn’t want to answer the question.

“Were you able to perform the scan?” Dumbledore asked quietly, his voice suddenly anxious.

“She had already gone by the time I arrived.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“If we can return our attention to Alastor, I have other matters to attend to,” Severus said, sounding both irritated and impatient in the same breath.

“Yes…of course, Severus,” Dumbledore said softly, obviously having a good idea of the matter which needed attending to. Harry rubbed his palm across his flaming cheek, though of course he couldn’t scrub the humiliation away. He wanted to ask what they were talking about—what scan and why Moody had been included in a discussion on whether or not Dawn would be where Harry was, but he sat silently, listening to his father and Dumbledore chanting spell after spell over Moody, glancing up only when it seemed unlikely that any of them would be looking at him.

Finally, Dumbledore sighed. “This isn’t a permanent solution, by any means, Alastor. Perhaps it would be best for you to allow the Healers at St. Mungo’s to have a look.”

“Too many questions,” Moody disagreed gruffly.

“We have no proof of foul play, Alastor-”

A loud crack brought Harry’s eyes up again. Tonks, her hair an exuberant green, popped into the room. She grinned when she saw Harry. “Wotcher, Harry!” Her cheeks were rosy, and she looked far too happy for someone who was supposed to be gathering clues about Moody’s mysterious illness.

Harry nodded, not even able to smile. She looked a little confused at his lackluster greeting, but Dumbledore caught her attention before she could say anything.

“You have information?” he asked her solemnly. She switched her gaze to the Headmaster. She shook her head.

“We couldn’t find any traces of Miss Ridley’s magical signature,” she told him. “Kingsley and I will have to search through traces that we did find in order to find a match. He’s already gone back to the Ministry to begin.”

“My own will be there,” Moody put in from the bed.

“I know, Moody,” she said with nod, sounding as if she had to constantly remind the older wizard of her competence. He grunted, but fell silent. “We’ll contact you as soon as we find anything,” Tonks said to Dumbledore, though her glance included Severus as well.

“Thank you, Nymphadora.”

Tonks’ face broke into a grin, and with an offset wave to Harry, she turned on the spot and was gone with another loud crack.

“It seems we have no recourse but to wait then,” Dumbledore said to the room in general.

“Harry.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to his father. He realized as he found his dad’s face that he was hoping for some hint of warmth in his eyes, but there was none.

“We are going home,” Severus said, and Harry stood slowly, dread gnawing at his stomach.

“Thank you for your help, Severus, as always,” Dumbledore said sincerely, while Moody grimaced in an expression which was probably meant to convey gratitude as well. Severus inclined his head in a sharp movement.

“It was good to see you, Harry,” Dumbledore added. He smiled at Harry. Harry simply nodded, making sure to avoid Moody’s spinning eye, and followed his father into the Floo.

Severus and Harry stepped out onto their own hearth rug a moment later. Harry watched his father as he stepped over to the pegs near the door, unbuttoned his heavy clasp and hung his cloak neatly. His fingers lingered as he straightened the already pin-straight fabric.

He finally turned.

He gazed at Harry, saying nothing. Severus pursed his lips as his gaze traveled over Harry’s still form, and Harry realized he was clutching the front of his jumper, pressing the soft fabric into his abdomen. He slowly untangled his fingers and let his hands fall to his sides.

Even though he’d sat silently in Moody’s house for what seemed like hours, with nothing to do but think, Harry hadn’t come up with anything more to offer besides another plea to be allowed an explanation. So he waited, but his father only continued to stare at him.

Fidgeting and wanting instinctively to curl his fingers back into his jumper, he said, in nearly a whisper, “I can explain-”

“Explain?” Severus echoed quietly. “What exactly are you going to explain, Harry? That you deliberately ignored my instructions and instead, did exactly as you wished?”

Harry swallowed. “Sirius was trying to-”

But Severus shook his head, making Harry fall silent. “I do not care what Black was trying to do. You are responsible for your own actions, Harry, no matter what he said to you.”

“I know, but-”

“There is no excuse for this, Harry. None, do you understand?” Severus interrupted again, and even though the tone of his voice had not changed from the soft, even one that he had started with, Harry’s chest constricted painfully “The only thing I have ever cared about was your safety,” Severus continued, his voice shaking. Harry’s face screwed up as his father went on, “I did not ask you to stay here in order to punish you, nor do I care if you wish to spend every waking moment with your godfather.”

“I don’t,” Harry said, with a fervent shake of his head. “This isn’t about wanting to be with Sirius-” he tried desperately to interject; needing his father to understand that he hadn’t recklessly ignored his instructions just to spend a few hours with Sirius.

“Then what is this about, Harry?” The slightly plaintive query made Harry wish he could sink through the floor.

“I…” Harry faltered. How was he supposed to answer that, when he didn’t even know what had possessed him to go with Sirius?

“You deliberately disobeyed me and you have no idea why?”

“I didn’t-”

“You left our quarters, Harry!” The burst of frustration was quickly squelched, and Harry could actually feel his father’s flame smoothing its momentary anger. Severus lifted his chin a little as he continued in a more measured voice, “And you left without Remus. You did precisely what I told you not to do.”

“I couldn’t find Remus.” Harry had no idea why he was still arguing. It was a stupid argument anyway.

“You could have waited,” Severus said, echoing what Harry already knew perfectly well. “You could have, but you chose not to. You chose to defy me.”

“Dawn wasn’t even supposed to be there.” Harry said, coming close to a full-on whinge. He shook his head and tried again. “Sirius told her she couldn’t see me. I thought it would be all right-”

Severus’ eyes narrowed as he stepped toward Harry. “No,” he corrected, “you thought it would be easy to persuade me that it was all right.”

As his father’s words came too close to the truth, Harry fell back a step, shaking his head, not even knowing why he was making the negative gesture. “I wasn’t trying to defy you,” he said miserably. “Sirius just sounded so upset…he was trying to do what you wanted…” He trailed off; he didn’t really want to make any more excuses. His hands were once again twisted up in his jumper, but this time he left them there.

“You left because you did not want to upset Black.” It was the same flat tone with which Severus had addressed Sirius in Sirius’ new sitting room. It was the same betrayal.

Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded, not daring to speak.

“It seems,” Severus continued tonelessly, “that it was a mistake to allow you to see your godfather at all, since it seems you lose the ability to think for yourself in his presence.”

Harry said nothing; his fingertips felt dead against his jumper.

Severus gazed at him. He half-opened and then closed his mouth twice before finally saying, “Until your first concern is your own safety…” Severus jaw flexed but he continued, his vocal chords straining to finish, “…you will not see your godfather. Nor will I feel comfortable allowing you your usual freedoms…not until I feel I can trust you again.”

Until I can trust you again… Harry nodded numbly. He’d deserved that.

“I believed you when you told me you would not leave.”

Harry looked away, finally unable to meet the accusation in his father’s eyes.

His first Christmas with his father only a week away, and he’d bollixed everything up. Not that that was particularly surprising…

“Harry.”

Harry shook his head, trying to soothe the burn in his throat as he swallowed.

“No, I understand,” he assured his father croakily, not wanting to hear the gouging words repeated.

He looked up in surprise as he felt Severus’ hand on his shoulder. Looking both exasperated and resigned, Severus silently palmed the back of Harry’s head and with very little pressure, pulled Harry toward him. With his forehead pressed into Severus’ shoulder, Harry closed his eyes, somehow feeling even more disgraced like this than he had at Moody’s.

He wanted to apologize, but he knew it would sound too hollow.

“Do you realize how fragile you are?” Severus asked, the words muffled since his mouth was smushed against the top of Harry’s head.

Fragile. Not exactly a word to make a person feel like a man.

“Despite five years’ worth of Albus trying to teach you otherwise, you are not invincible,” Severus continued, his voice growing stern for the first time, “And I assure you, Harry, I intend to make certain that you understand that before your propensity to rush blindly into danger, kills you.”

Instead of irritating Harry, the hint of a threat eased some of the tension in his stomach.

“Your life is far too valuable for you to be so reckless with it.”

I love you too much, was what Harry heard. He smiled, even though the knot of tension in his stomach hadn’t loosened all that much. But even so, Harry found his arm coming up in an awkward half-hug around his father’s waist. Severus’ fingers pressed briefly against the back of Harry’s head, and they stood there for a long moment, neither of them feeling the need to speak anymore. And then Severus’ hands were back on Harry’s shoulders and he was being gently pulled back; Harry almost sighed in relief as he immediately found the familiar, and recently-elusive warmth in his dad’s eyes.

“I need to brew a potion for Alastor. I trust, however,” Severus said smoothly, “you know where you will be spending the next several hours.”

Harry stared, trying to figure that one out. Obviously not in the lab with his father… Severus gave the corridor behind them a pointed look. Harry’s lips parted in surprise. “You’re….sending me to my room?” he asked, finding himself shocked by the notion. His father raised a single eyebrow.

“I am rather displeased with you at the moment, or was that unclear?”

“Er…no, it was clear,” Harry said as his face grew hot again. He wanted to mention that he was sixteen and not six, and that he hadn’t even protested any of the things his dad had said, not even about not seeing Sirius, but after a stilted moment, he decided not to test the mild glare he was being favored with.

“Excellent,” Severus said as Harry nodded. “You can use the time to write a copy of your plan for me.”

“Plan?”

“Mm,” Severus agreed with a nod. “The plan you devised in case Miss Ridley or Simon threatened you once you arrived at Black’s plot.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “But I didn’t have a…” He trailed off at his father’s pointed look. Harry sighed. “Right.”

“I will check on your progress in a few hours.”

Harry tried not to let his shoulders slump dejectedly. “I’ll be there,” he said, sounding much gloomier than he meant to.

But damned if his dad’s eyes weren’t lit with mirth. “Indeed, you will be,” he said dryly, and then before Harry could really check for amusement, he was being unceremoniously spun around and given a pointed nudge between his shoulder blades. He sighed and trudged off to his room, where a piece of parchment and quill were hovering in the air, waiting for him.

--

“Dinner is on the table.”

Harry looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion; he had grown used to the quiet. His father was standing in his doorway; Harry’s stomach swooped. It was a stupid reaction, especially since his dad didn’t look particularly displeased with him anymore. He was simply standing there, a small smile on his lips as he gazed at Harry. His shirtsleeves were rolled up past his elbows, and the collar of his shirt was open. Harry rarely saw his father looking so casual; the potion he’d been working on must have been particularly involved.

“Oh…right.”

“Are you not hungry?” Severus asked in surprise, coming in the room to stand close to Harry’s chair. Harry shrugged. After the initial struggle to begin working, he’d been too engrossed to pay much attention to his stomach.

“Guess I lost track of time,” he explained as he set his chewed quill down; it left a soggy blotch against the parchment.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “May I see it?”

“Er…sure.” Harry slipped the parchment from under the quill and handed it over. Severus took it and Harry watched his dark eyes scanning the words silently. “I…er, thought a lot about what you said…about Dawn and about…you know—making my own safety a priority.”

Severus gave Harry his full attention. “Oh?”

Harry shifted in his chair.

“Yeah,” he went on with a quick nod. “And I don’t do that, you know? Not ever, really. And even though Dawn sort of makes me uncomfortable, and I believe you when you say she might be dangerous, I didn’t really stop to think about it." Harry frowned to himself as he continued, "Which is stupid really, since I’ve done loads of daft things which should have gotten me killed..." Harry glanced down quickly and then gazed at his father with a solemn expression as he continued, "...and well Sirius has too, and between the two of us he did get killed and he should know better, I guess, so you’re right about not seeing him-”

“Harry.”

Harry paused in mid deep-breath at the quiet interruption.

“As I said earlier,” Severus said easily, making no comment on Harry’s flustered state, “you have been taught to believe in your own indestructibility. It is not stupid; you simply need to readjust your thinking.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, glancing down at his hands. When he looked back up again, his mouth was twisted in a grimace. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know,” Severus said with a gentle nod. “And I do appreciate that you are taking my words seriously.” He gave Harry’s fringe a cursory sweep before he pulled his hand back and said briskly, “Shall we have dinner then?” He smirked. “We can discuss your plan in detail.”

Harry groaned, the rest of the knot dissolving as he hauled himself to his feet. “I’m on to you, you know, Dad. This is nothing but an essay in disguise.”

Severus turned back toward the corridor. “I did not mean to disguise it all,” he said, his amusement clear this time.

Harry smiled as he followed his father to the dinner table.

--

“I’m sorry, Gin,” Harry said with an apologetic shake of his head, the next evening; they’d made plans before Ginny had left for home for Harry to visit the Burrow tomorrow. “I’m not even allowed to wander around the castle.”

Harry had realized during their chat at dinner last night, that his father actually believed Sirius was going to visit the castle and make it his goal to coerce him. Harry had wisely not mentioned that it had only been Sirius’ suggestion to go with him—there hadn’t been any pressure. The fault was squarely Harry’s own, and he wasn’t particularly keen on a repeat of that mistake, so his father really didn’t have much to worry about.

“Not at all?” Ginny asked, her ginger eyebrows shooting upward. Harry flushed.

“Er…well, not unless he’s with me.” Ruddy embarrassing, having to explain this to his girlfriend. He wished he could have told Ron to give her a message. It would be a lot easier to be a coward.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she softly. Harry shrugged. She reached one her hands through the fire and touched his cheek. “At least he let you talk to me.”

“He’d have to tell you himself otherwise.”

“To think, he’d rather dice flobberworms than talk to me,” Ginny said with a shake of her head. Harry grinned. “You’re both coming for Christmas though, aren’t you?” Ginny asked worriedly. “Mum’ll be so disappointed if you don’t.”

“Your mum’ll be disappointed?” Harry asked, feigning hurt.

“And Ron,” Ginny said with a crisp nod.

“Very funny,” Harry grumbled, wishing he was with her as she grinned at him. “We’re still coming for Christmas anyway,” he told her. “I could probably come tomorrow as well…if my dad came with me. He’d probably want to follow us all around the property.”

Ginny made a face. Harry had to agree—didn’t sound like much fun at all.

He yelped as Ron’s face suddenly poked through the green flames.

“Oi, Ron,” Ginny groused, giving her brother a shove. Ron shoved her right back, jostling her with his shoulder.

“You two were taking forever,” he told her. And to Harry, he asked, “Did you see the Prophet?”

Harry nodded. Lucius had been acquitted, though the issue of his Death Eater status was left rather hazy. Apparently though, the Wizengamot had decided Lucius’ assistance to Harry was enough to keep him out of Azkaban. Neither Harry, nor Severus had been surprised by the news, or surprised by Simon’s reputed glee.

Ron paused dramatically, and then said in a stage whisper, he said, “Dawn left as soon as the verdict was given.”

“I know,” Harry answered. “Dumbledore told us.”

Ron went on, as if he hadn’t even heard. “She hasn’t been back to the Ministry since then. I heard Dad and Mum talking…they said she went off with Simon and…yeow!”

A hand, which was decidedly Mrs. Weasley’s, had clamped onto Ron’s ear.

“Mum,” he complained, even as he was being hauled backward, and out of the flames. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I’d better go,” she said resignedly. She said a quick goodbye, sans kiss, and popped back out of the fire. The green flames died quickly.

Harry sighed as he sat back on his heels. This holiday was really beginning to ronk. Nothing for it though, he supposed. He pushed himself to his feet and went to find his father in the lab.

Severus was elbows-deep in frog innards, plucking intestines out with skilled fingers.

“Can I help?”

His father looked up in surprise. “You wish to help me disembowel frogs?”

“Not much else to do,” Harry answered with a sheepish shrug.

“Ah.” He gestured to the pile of innards. “I am nearly finished. Would you perhaps like to play a game of chess for the rest of the evening?”

“Yeah?”

“Certainly,” Severus said with a small smile. “I will be finished in fifteen minutes,” he said, glancing at his bubbling potion first.

Harry grinned. “I’ll get a shower then.” He smirked at his father’s raised eyebrow. “I’ll help you with your frogs next time.”

“I will remember you said so.”

Harry made a face as he turned to go. He probably would.

--

Severus looked up from his last frog. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he cast a Stasis Charm over both the cauldron and the frogs, and stalked into the sitting room. Lupin’s head was floating in the flames.

“I am brewing an extremely delicate potion,” was Severus’ greeting, and then paused to wonder why Remus looked so nervous. “What is it?” he demanded abruptly, his thoughts flying to Harry, even though he was still safely in the shower.

“Sirius was hoping to speak with Harry,” Remus explained, with a mild grimace.

“No. Was that all?”

Remus sighed. “He wants to apologize, Severus.”

“Again?” Severus queried icily. He shook his head as Remus opened his mouth. “Black is immature and reckless. And Harry is too easily influenced by him, but I will not allow any other lapses in judgment to affect him.”

“Sirius is willing to speak to Harry in your presence.”

“How very generous,” Severus drawled.

Remus frowned. “If you feel no differently after Sirius speaks with Harry, he won’t ask you again.”

Severus wanted to scoff at that, but Remus’ words were correct, since he would not allow Black to ask again. “I will eject him into the corridor if he even looks like he might suggest Harry do something foolish.”

Remus smiled, though Severus had no idea why; he was being perfectly serious. “I will tell him.” He pulled his head back through the flames, and with a soft snarl, Severus gave the Floo instructions to admit Sirius Black—only once.

A moment later, Black stepped out of the fireplace.

They stared at each other in silence.

“Harry will be with you momentarily,” Severus finally said brusquely when the silence began to irritate him. He didn’t offer the mutt a seat.

“Right,” Black said with a single nod. He stuffed his fists into his pockets, shifting his gaze a bit but keeping his head very still, obviously trying very hard not to be too obvious about looking around at Severus’ quarters.

“It is not quite what you expected?” Severus asked sarcastically. “No bats, not a cobweb to speak of.”

Black’s eyes jumped back to Severus’ face. Severus watched in amusement as Black strained against the slow flush that was heating his neck. Black frowned, but only for an instant, before he squared his shoulders and his lips dissolved their scowl.

“Look, Snape,” he began awkwardly.

“Not Snivellus this time?” Severus drawled laconically. The muscles in Black’s jaw palpated.

“Look, Snape,” he repeated, almost spitting the words. He continued in a slightly less hostile tone once his neck stopped pulsing, “I just want to square things with Harry. Make certain he’s all right.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I am not Lucius,” he said coldly. “I had no plans to thrash him.”

Sirius said nothing, though he didn’t look like he disbelieved the claim; his feet shifted against the heart rug.

“Harry…means the world to me,” he went on, his voice faltering over the words; he looked like he’d swallowed one of the agents Severus used to dissolve metal for his potions. “I didn’t know Dawn was going to be there.”

If Severus hadn’t known the mutt to be a worthless wretch, he would have assumed he was trying to apologize. But of course Black was only making excuses for himself. “Albus tells me she and Simon have left together on holiday,” Severus said, unable to keep the smirk from his voice.

“As far as I know,” Black said stiffly, after a pause.

“Pity.”

Black’s eyes flashed but he gave no retort. Severus eyed the other man, unsettled. But before he could attempt to test this new unflappable version of his old enemy, Harry, his hair damp and wild, rounded the corner. His fingers stilled on his pajama shirt’s last button as he came to a very abrupt halt.

He looked quickly between the two men, and then more slowly. “Er…hi Sirius,” he said uncertainly, glancing again at his father.

Sirius smiled at him, though he looked a little confused. “It’s…only nine o’clock.”

Harry finished slotting his button through its hole and nodded, trying to look more at ease than he felt. “We were going to play chess.”

“Oh.” Sirius looked even more flummoxed by that.

“What are you doing here?”

Sirius’ fingers kneaded the juncture between neck and shoulder a few times as he glanced at Severus. “I wanted to speak with you.”

Harry waited, but Sirius didn’t say anything.

“I will be in my lab.”

Harry glanced at his dad, and nodded. Severus turned and went into his lab. He kept the door open and he made no show of pretending to be busy; he kept his gaze on the sitting room as he plucked a stomach from a dead frog. Harry turned back to Sirius.

“Remus didn’t yell at you anymore, did he…after we left?

Sirius’ shoulders relaxed. “Just a bit.”

Harry smiled. Remus could certainly deliver a lecture—he was glad he hadn’t been Sirius last night. But then Harry remembered that Sirius had ventured into enemy territory, just to speak with him. He frowned at his godfather. “What’s wrong Sirius?”

Sirius cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Sirius.”

Harry shook his head as Sirius looked ready to argue, but Sirius spoke anyway, “Dawn’s left.”

“I heard. I’m sorry, Sirius-”

“I shouldn’t have trusted her. I don’t know how I didn’t see how…odd, she was before last night. It seems a bit fuzzy now…” He shook his head as though to clear it. “And,” he continued with a grimace, “I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”

Harry shrugged, and wished he wouldn’t blush so easily. “It’s all right. I’m not in that much trouble.” He didn’t explain how disappointed his father had been, which was much worse than any punishment that could have been doled out.

Sirius nodded, but didn’t press for details. “It was stupid of me to try to make you do something…I was being immature and competitive, as I always am.” His hands shifted restlessly against his thighs. “Look Harry…I was trying to tell Snape, but I couldn’t quite manage it…”

“Yeah?”

Sirius took a deep breath, and tried to make it look like he wasn’t glancing at Severus in the lab. “I…just want things to be the way they used to be between us. I know Snape won’t let you see me now, but when he will again…” Harry’s stomach twisted as Sirius’ face looked ready to crumple.

“I can learn to get along with him, Harry. I will.”

Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his godfather. Sirius’ breath hitched in relief as he pulled Harry into a hug. Harry hadn’t hugged him since that first night in the infirmary; he hadn’t imagined it would relieve him so much; even if Sirius’ chest was suffocating him a bit.

He had missed Sirius—even when he’d been only centimeters away.

“Oi, Harry, you must’ve grown six centimeters since the spring.” Sirius poked Harry’s ribs playfully. Harry pulled back, hissing out a breath of laughter. “And your ribs have some meat on them—finally. Molly must be pleased.”

Harry brushed Sirius’ hands away, still grinning a little. “She is. She actually told my dad he was taking good care of me.”

“It seems to be the consensus,” Sirius said with a nod. He smiled, putting his around Harry’s shoulders and giving him a quick squeeze. “I won’t keep you from your chess game, but I’ll be at the Weasleys’ on Christmas.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” Harry said as he handed his godfather the small dish of Floo powder.

Sirius grinned as he backed into the fireplace with his fistful of powder. “See ya, kiddo,” he said with an easy wave and then he was flashing away in a roar of fire.

Harry shook his head in amusement. Still smiling, he went into the lab, where his father was just corking his neatly labeled flasks. Severus waved his wand, and Harry watched the tall flasks parading themselves into the tall storage cupboard.

“Thanks for letting Sirius come through,” Harry said once his dad had closed the cupboard door.

“You are welcome.”

Harry twisted the blunt end of the pestle into his palm. “He does mean what he said—about trying to get along with you.”

“I have no doubt.”

Harry pursed his lips as he tried to trace any sarcasm in his father’s voice. He couldn’t find any.

“Are you ready for our match?” his father queried. Harry dropped the stone pestle. He nodded as it plunked into the pestle.

“I’ve had loads of practice with Ron,” he said with a challenging smile. His father raised an eyebrow.

“I often play with Albus.”

Oi. “Maybe we should play gobstones instead...”

The chess game continued well past midnight.

And just as Harry feared, his father trounced him soundly.

--

Harry shook his head as he dropped the last intestine into the dish; it landed with a squishy plop. Three days. And Harry was slowly going mad. He had actually volunteered again this morning to gut frogs. He’d almost enjoyed himself too. Anything was better than reading Quidditch Through the Ages again.

He sighed as he watched Severus waving his wand to clean up the mess.

“I need to go to Diagon Alley to procure supplies for the upcoming semester.”

Harry looked up hopefully. “Can I come with you?”

Severus’ eyebrows rose. “Surely you would rather stay here and gut another pile of frogs?”

Harry really would have liked to stick his tongue out at his father. “Nah. Wouldn’t want to cram all my fun into one day, you know.”

“Get your cloak then. And I will attempt to make the trip as dull as possible.”

Grinning, Harry wasted no time, fastening his cloak quickly and donning both cap and mittens before his dad had even wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. He waited impatiently, with a sneaking suspicion that his dad was moving as slowly as possible purely to torture him. But even so, they were stepping out of Diagon Alley’s Floo Center within minutes.

“Where would you like to go first?” Severus asked as he and Harry dodged a tall, exuberant man who had recognized Harry instantly, even without his glasses.

Harry tilted his head, as he squinted up at his father. “I thought you needed to go to the Apothecary.”

“Yes, I do,” Severus answered with a nod. “It has been some time, however, since you purchased anything for yourself, has it not?” Without giving Harry a chance to answer, he straightened his gloves and inquired briskly, “What do you need?”

“Er…”

“Perhaps to Eyelops for a bag of treats for Hedwig? Or a bundle of quills to begin the new term? A new Quidditch manual?”

“Uh…yeah, all right,” Harry agreed, taking in the eager glint in his father’s eye. He could use some new quills and Hedwig would certainly appreciate the treats. He’d make sure to tell her they were from his dad.

“Excellent,” Severus said in satisfaction.

“We can go to the twins’ joke shop as well,” Harry suggested with a straight face. “My supply of Skiving Snackboxes is running low.” Harry nodded. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t use them in your class.”

Severus’ brow furrowed as he peered at Harry’s innocent expression. Harry laughed and with a sound glare, he and his dad entered Eyelops. They spent the next two hours browsing around the shops. By the time they found the Apothecary, Severus’ pockets were full of shrunken packages.

“Ah, Severus,” the rotund shopkeeper boomed as they stepped into the fragrant shop, “what can I do for you today…and who’s this?” He smiled widely at Harry though, waving his hand to cut off Severus’ explanation. “Your son, yes. Harry.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered.

“Wonderful to have you here,” he said sincerely.

Harry smiled, but as he opened his mouth to comment, he felt an odd sensation in his belly…like a huge hook was grasping his navel… “Dad…” he gasped, panic quickly taking over as he recognized the pull of a Portkey. Everything around him was beginning to spin.

“Harry!” he heard his father shout as his spiraling black form lunged toward him.

And then Harry was crashing to the ground in a heap of limbs. He pushed himself up dizzily, seeing only frozen grass in front of him.

“Hello again, Harry.”

Harry turned around slowly.

Dawn smiled back at him.

As Harry stared, her cruel smile twisted. And her tall body began to transform, roiling and writhing with sickening noises. Harry backed up, his spine tingling.

It couldn’t be. “You’re dead…” Harry stammered.

Bellatrix laughed, low and cold.

“It seems,” she said quietly as she stepped toward him, “that your father will be devastated after all.”

1996

“Harry!” Severus lunged toward his son, but captured only empty air as Harry disappeared. “No!” He caught himself, only just, on one of the shop’s shelves, and spun around sharply, his wand already drawn by the time he was facing the shopkeeper.

Rene backed up a step, his mouth slack with shock. “Sev…Severus,” he stammered. Severus grabbed the other man’s arm roughly, and with a single word, Lily’s doe erupted from the tip of his wand and cantered out of the shop at a breakneck speed.

“Do not move!” Severus’ snarl petered out as panic seized his mind. Harry! He had no idea if he meant to call out to Harry through their connection, but the hurtled response, made his heart seize.

Bellatrix! And over and over the name streamed through Harry’s wisp as if that was the only thought occupying his mind.

Severus’ grip lost its tension on Rene’s arm. “No,” he whispered as his legs went boneless beneath him and he crumpled to his knees. No…Bellatrix was dead. She had been Kissed by Dementors—pictures of her soulless body had been splashed across the front page of the Prophet-

Dad! Harry’s silent voice forced Severus to focus again, and in the next instant, he had roughly plunged his terror down through his shields and buried it there. He grasped at the only connection he had with his son and projected calm toward Harry’s storm—it was almost impossible; his arms trembled as he held himself up with his palms.

Where are you? he asked silently.

Confusion filled Severus’ mind. A field. And Severus could see it—an image projected through their connection. And empty field, the grass brown and cold. And familiar…somehow familiar…

Severus closed his eyes, as the terror tried to push its way up past his shields.

“Severus!”

Severus’ eyes came blearily open as Remus, with both Tonks and Black right behind him, crashed through the Apothecary door. Without even coming to a full stop, Remus fell to his knees; he gripped both of Severus’ arms, bringing Severus up a little.

“What’s happened?” Remus demanded, his voice higher than Severus ever recalled it being.

“Harry,” Severus said, his voice so raspy it was unrecognizable as his own. “Bellatrix…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. And then Black’s face was in front of his own as well.

“She’s dead,” he said, his own voice filled with panic equal to Remus’.

“Harry,” Severus moaned as fear spiked through Harry's storm.

“Can you hear him?” Remus asked breathlessly.

“Yes…”

“Find out where he is.” Remus’ fingers tightened painfully, bringing Severus sharply back to reality.

He pulled roughly away from Remus’ grip, shutting out his surroundings as he focused on the pulse of his son’s wisp. Where are you? he asked again. He closed his eyes. What do you see?

--

“Dad,” Harry whispered as his father’s voice filled his mind. He tried once more to concentrate on his surroundings; it was difficult as he kept his eyes on Bellatrix.

Bellatrix shook her head, the twisted smile still playing on her lips. “Not yet, Harry,” she told him, her voice soft and silken. She reached a hand out, as though to caress his cheek, but she curled her fingers away as Harry jerked out of reach. “Soon, though, I promise…soon.”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, only realizing belatedly that he had spoken out loud when he'd heard his father's silent questions.

Bellatrix's gaze flicked to Harry’s hand, clenched fiercely around his wand. “Go ahead,” she encouraged, her eyes widening just a little in gleeful challenge, "try a spell…”

“What do you want?” Harry asked, grateful that his voice remained level, even as he ignored her taunting. It went against all his instincts to keep his wand still, but now was not the time to act rashly…

“Accio Harry’s wand,” she called lazily, but Harry had included that possibility in the essay his father had set him. And thanks to the spell Severus had put on Harry’s wand, Bellatrix’s command was ignored.

Bellatrix’s face darkened. And then she simply leaned forward and snatched it from Harry’s hand. Harry frowned at her in surprise. Obviously, they’d need to re-address that part of the plan—Harry sucked in a gasp of surprise as Bellatrix backhanded him as hard as she could, it seemed. Harry stumbled back. Bellatrix assisted him to the ground, pushing him. He stared up at her, flat on his back now.

“You cannot best me, Harry,” she whispered as she bent down. She pierced Harry’s throat with his own holly. “Even with your wand,” she said mockingly. She imparted just enough pressure against Harry’s windpipe that he struggled for breath, and then she released his wand abruptly. It crossed his throat as it stilled.

Bellatrix fingered her wand lovingly as she stared at Harry with crystal blue eyes. “I want justice,” she said, finally answering Harry’s earlier question. She smiled again. “You and Severus…Severus murdered my Lord,” she continued on softly, her eyes glassy and distant as she watched a spot past Harry’s shoulder. “And now, Severus will pay for what he’s done…” She focused once more on Harry’s face. “…You as well,” she amended, the backs of her fingers curling close to Harry’s cheek, only millimeters of air between the two. Harry tried to pull his head back, but Bellatrix’s hand simply moved with him this time.

She brushed her first finger over his lips as she whispered, “It will hurt you to see your father suffering, won’t it, Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer, sensing it would only fuel her quietly simmering mania; besides, he was concentrating too fiercely on the details of the tall trees surrounding them—they seemed much too familiar to him.

“To see him forced to watch as I torture you?” Bellatrix pressed, her eyes almost eager now. She caught Harry’s chin in her hand now, but Harry gazed back at her, keeping his face still to look unimpressed by her tactics. The words sent thrills of fear down his spine, but he gave nothing away. Anger danced through the mad woman’s eyes now as she peered into Harry’s stony face.

“No?” she questioned, her fingers tightening a little. “You care nothing for your father’s pain?” she demanded. “You’ll have no objections if I play with him a little bit first, then, Harry? Something a little more painful than Cruciatus…”

“Let go of me,” Harry growled, trying without success to wrench his chin away from her bruising fingers as her voice changed to something more menacing. Bellatrix laughed.

“Enough of this, Bella,” a deep voice interrupted. Bellatrix’s fingers slid off Harry’s chin as Bavister Simon stepped out from the trees. “You can do what you like to Severus, but I need Harry.” He smiled at Harry. “It won’t do to hurt him too much.”

Bellatrix stepped away from Harry, gliding and dipping her shoulders in a servile manner; Harry scrambled back to his feet, clutching his wand in his hand again.

“Have you dispatched your bird?” she asked, her eyes glued to Harry. Simon smiled, in a manner so condescending, that Harry felt a ludicrous pity for Bellatrix.

“In a moment, Bella. He’s ready, but I will need a few moments alone with Harry before we ask Severus to join us.” He patted her arm, and Harry all but screamed the warning to his father through his wisp. They want you to come! But there was no answering panic from his father—simply calm projected back, and another request for Harry to concentrate on his surroundings. Harry immediately discarded his knee-jerk plea for his father to stay away--it would be ignored.

“You really have nothing else to do now,” Simon was saying to Bellatrix, “so if you will allow me-” Simon’s face began to turn red, and then quickly darkened to purple as Bellatrix smiled. Simon's fingers tore at his own throat, his eyes bulging grotesquely out of their sockets.

Bellatrix waved her wand lazily, and Harry stared, speechless, as Simon rose into the air. Another flick of Bellatrix’s wrist and the tall man was tossed across the clearing, to land near the trees on the opposite side, where he struggled for only a moment, and then fell silent.

Bellatrix turned back to Harry, her expression serene. “What was that, Harry?” she asked, tilting her head curiously as incoherent syllables rushed from Harry’s lips.

“But…what…”

Bellatrix waved her hand dismissively toward Simon. “He was useful for awhile,” she explained. “He wanted to be the next Minister…wanted you to help him…” She smiled again. “But I could not allow that, you understand. Not when you and Severus have so much to atone for…”

Harry shook his head, still staring at the human lump under the trees. His knees felt weak as he turned back to Bellatrix. He almost gasped when he saw the towering manor for the first time...in the distance—the light of the moon flickering eerily against its sharply slanted spires.

He had to clamp down the impulse to push the image below his shields to hide it from his father—and an instant later, relief flooded his mind. I am coming, his father’s flame promised. Harry’s teeth began to chatter then.

“Oh, are you cold, Harry?” Bellatrix asked, in a voice meant to pretend care, but she simply sounded even more deranged than she had a moment ago. “We can start the fire now, if you like.” And with that, a ball of flame was dancing in her palm.

Before Harry could react, Bellatrix’s free hand shot out and grabbed the back of Harry’s head. She pulled his face close to the crackling flames. “I wanted to wait for Severus,” she told him, her own face very close to Harry’s. “I should wait…”

She blew a gentle breath into the sphere, and though no fire touched Harry, he cried out as heat seared his entire body.

--

“Damn it,” Sirius growled as he stumbled over a root. Remus, grabbed at his arm impatiently, and pulled him for a few steps until he had his footing again.

Snape was practically flying through the dense forest; he’d shed his robes right before they’d Apparated to Riddle Manor—Sirius kept his eyes focused on Snape’s long black trouser legs as he tried to keep up. Remus was having just as much trouble it seemed, though at least he hadn’t lost his footing as many times as Sirius had. Tonks was moving almost as quickly as Snape, her own purple robes having long since vanished in a puff of violet smoke.

Every sound of the rapidly darkening forest grated at Sirius’ nerves. It was worse—many, many times worse than it had been when he’d gone after Harry at the Ministry. They’d known just where to find him then, although Snape had said that he could see where Harry’s was—not that Sirius could claim to understand exactly what that meant.

A clearing…on a hill, was all Snape had gasped out, and Remus and Tonks had understood immediately.

“It’s just ahead.”

Both Sirius and Remus began running faster at Tonks whispered call. And yes, Sirius could see the forest thinning. And he could hear Bella’s low familiar laugh; it sent chills down Sirius’ spine. And then Snape was slipping past the trees at the edge of the forest, as though made of liquid instead of flesh, and moving so fast that Sirius could barely track him; Tonks was right on his heels.

Snape and Tonks were wound around a huge trunk as Sirius and Remus finally caught up with them; they dropped to their knees in silence, with Sirius wondering if Snape had already told Harry they were so close. And hoped that if he had, Harry would be able to keep from giving them away.

Sirius managed not to gasp as his eyes found Bella across the clearing—she was holding a limp and panting Harry close to her side, the two of them facing a roaring fire. And oddly, an austere, long-beaked hawk was perched on Bella’s arm.

“Shall we release him, Harry?” Bella was asking, her smile mocking and eager all at once, but Harry shook his head—jerkily it seemed to Sirius. Bella eyed him curiously. “No?” she asked softly. “Is that fear, I see in your lovely eyes, Harry? Your mother’s eyes…”

Snape's fingernails were digging into the solid bark as he stared.

“Now,” he whispered hoarsely to Tonks. Tonks, with a quick nod, stood, still concealed behind the towering trunk. She spun sharply and without even the smallest of cracks, she was gone.

The crystal hanging from a chain around Snape’s neck began glowing a soft green.

Bella lifted her arm, and the giant hawk took off. It’s bleak cawing made Sirius cringe, until he realized that the hawk was diving right toward them, its glowing yellow eyes hungry. All three men moved back as the regal bird began beating its wings and screaming as it hung above them.

“What’s this?” Bella wondered, stepping toward the other end of the clearing and letting go of Harry’s arm as she did. Harry sagged when she released him, holding himself up with a low-hanging branch of one of the nearby trees. Bella’s blue eyes were focused on the hysterical bird.

Snape took the opportunity he was given and grasped the crystal. And then he stood up fluidly and stepped into the clearing.

Bella halted, her confusion quickly turning to drunken glee. Her body curved, and her head dipped as she gazed at Snape. “Severus,” she breathed, “we’ve been waiting for you.”

Sirius, holding his breath, watched as Tonks slipped past the cover of trees on the other side, and reached Harry’s side. But instead of going with her, as would have been both prudent—and very unlike his godson, Harry shook his head, still supporting himself with the branch.

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as Bellatrix hadn’t lost track of Harry as it had seemed.

“Of course he won’t leave with you, Dora,” Bella said softly, though she was still gazing at Snape. “He wants to make sure daddy is safe…don’t you, Harry?”

“Harry did not kill him, Bella,” Snape said quietly, his voice perfectly smooth and even, showing no trace of his earlier panicked frenzy.

“How many others did you bring, Severus?” Bellatrix asked, ignoring Snape’s plea. “Only you and Harry were invited,” she scolded, her eyes glinting as her voice grew dangerously softer. “Tell the others to leave, or Harry will disappear again.” She waved her wand in suggestion. “I single word to activate the spell once more, Severus…”

“Tonks!” Snape called out harshly. Tonks clenched her jaw, but withdrew back into the trees. Sirius could see Harry straightening up, his fingers gripping his wand; his eyes connected with Snape’s as if they were sharing something through their connection; Harry nodded just slightly, his grip loosening a little on his holly, though he didn’t let his arm relax any more than that.

Sirius’ own wand was suddenly heavier as Bella’s magic dampened the stray magic in the area; her hatred fueling her power as revenge drew closer.

Bellatrix smiled. “I think,” she said slowly, her words clearly musing, “that you are wrong though, Severus.” She gestured for Harry to come closer. Harry hesitated, seeking out Snape’s eyes again. And even as stony as Snape's face was, Sirius could see that he was telling Harry not to obey. Bellatrix’s features darkened. “Harry did kill him,” she went on anyway, her fingers running up and down the smooth wood of her wand. “And to think I was going to punish you, Severus…”

She laughed, low and deep as Severus stiffened. “Oh, don’t worry, Severus, Harry will be quite safe.” She angled her head so that she could see both of them. “I can see now, that I was mistaken,” she said calmly. She smiled widely enough so that Sirius could see her glistening teeth. “Watch daddy, Harry, as I watched my beloved lord… Watch daddy as he dies.”

“No!” Harry cried, lunging toward Bellatrix and Snape, his wand ready, but it was too late.

Bellatrix flung her arm out.

Harry flew backward as Bellatrix raised her wand toward Snape.

As Harry sailed through the air and crashed against a tall tree, his eyes never left Snape's face, and time was suddenly frozen for Sirius.

In that instant he saw as clearly as he’d ever seen anything… every nuance, every emotion in Harry’s face. Harry’s deep love for Snape—and more importantly, his terror at the thought of losing his father. And what Sirius did, he did without pausing, without thinking it through. He did it for Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix cried.

Sirius launched himself at Snape, roughly pushing the other man aside, and then he stared down, in open-mouthed wonder, at the jet of green light piercing his chest.

Sirius fell.

Harry stared from across the clearing, unwilling to believe.

And then there was fury—white and hot, chilling him to his very core.

Harry snarled as he stalked forward, his wand aimed straight at Bellatrix’s heart.

Severus shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” only one second before the words formed on Harry’s tongue. And the deadly green light burst from his father’s wand, enveloping Bellatrix, just as it had Sirius. But Harry didn’t wait to see her fall.

“No!” The word burst from Harry’s lips, high and enraged. He launched himself at Severus, his fists beating wildly against his father’s chest.

“You killed her!” he screamed, lost to the livid hatred boiling inside him, and ignoring the pressure as Severus tried to pull him closer, but Harry yanked himself backward. Severus held tightly to his arms as Harry continued to scream, “She was mine and you killed her! She killed Sirius. I wanted to kill her, and you took it from me. I hate you!” he shouted hoarsely, the terrible words shriveling Severus as he stood helplessly in front of his son. “I wanted to kill her! I would have-”

“I know,” Severus finally interrupted quietly, his fingers slackening their grip on Harry’s arms, “but she is dead now.”

And somehow the deep, familiar cadence choked off most of Harry’s rage, but even so he still tore himself away from Severus’ grip. He stumbled as he turned away, and there was Sirius—lying in the frozen grass, his eyes glazed in death.

Harry’s knees buckled as the anger, the hurt—as everything drained away, and he felt his body crumpling.

But his father was still there, by his side.

Severus caught Harry as he fell, only just, and the two of them collapsed in the cold, wet grass.  Severus held Harry tightly as he stared at Black's lifeless face.

1996

Memory returned to Harry before he had even opened his eyes.

Bellatrix…her face twisted into a cruel smile

Simon…as he was thrown viciously into the forest of trees.

And Sirius…

But those memories were different, layered over one another…Sirius’ smile, his laughter as it matched Harry’s own…his bewildered stance after Harry had yelled at him…his arms holding Harry tightly. And his eyes, as they stared up at nothing.

Dull pain radiated from Harry’s chest, trailing in cold tracks through his limbs. A hurt so heavy that it ached for release. But Harry didn’t want to give into it. Didn’t want to remember how much he had loved him.

He didn’t need to remember.

It was with quiet order and precision, that Harry prodded the memories deep below his shield, one by one until nothing remained but the quiet in and out of his own steady breaths.

Sirius was dead.

He hadn’t been expecting it, certainly, but after all, Harry had only had a few short weeks to get used to his being around again. He could get used to Sirius being dead again quite easily. He’d already accepted it once.

He could do it again.

It would, in fact be much easier since he could safely bury Sirius beneath his shield.

Make him stay put this time.

Harry breathed deeply through his nose, taking in the scents around him-they were no longer outside; his ears were no longer tinged with cold.

Harry opened his eyes.

His father was sitting so close to the bed, that Harry wondered why he’d even bothered with a chair. The skin around Severus’ eyes crinkled with anxiety. “How do you feel?” he asked; his voice was deep and strained.

Harry shrugged. “A bit sore.” He looked around the room-his own bedroom, he realized. Remus was there as well, sitting at the edge of another chair. Harry gave him a little smile. “Hi, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes were shiny as he nodded. He looked lost; Harry felt a momentary pang of hurt for that, but he pushed it away. Remus would be okay this time-he had Tonks now, after all. Just like Harry now had his father.

Severus leaned over and pressed his palm to Harry’s forehead. Harry dipped his eyebrows, searching his father’s face. Severus frowned, which stayed in place even as he pulled his hand away. Suspicion swooped down on Harry suddenly as pain suddenly crossed through his father’s eyes.

“Is something wrong with me?” he asked, pressing his palms into the mattress so that he could lift himself up. Severus shook his head as he put a hand around Harry’s upper arm to assist.

“Bellatrix’s Burning Curse had a cascading effect,” he explained when Harry was sitting. “I was able to end it with the aid of several potions.”

“It kept burning me, you mean?” He shivered a little as he remembered the way he had felt like he was on fire, even though Bellatrix’s flames had not licked his skin-not even once. “Have I been asleep for long, then?” he asked.

“Since yesterday evening, yes,” Severus said quietly. “I gave you a Sleeping Draught when we returned to Hogwarts.” His eyes were even more anxious now. “And a Dream Suppressive.”

Harry nodded slowly; he remembered some of last night, he supposed. Brief periods of submerged lucidity.

“Well,” he said with a shrug, “I feel all right.” He raised his eyebrows a bit. “Is it okay if I get up and dress?”

Severus’ frown deepened. Before he answered, he waved his already-drawn wand over Harry’s prone form. “Do you feel weak at all?” he finally asked. “Dizzy?” When Harry shook his head, Severus nodded, but he looked very ill at ease.

Memories once again began to filter into Harry’s mind.

Screaming at his father that he hated him—hitting him even.

And he remembered why. His dad had killed Bellatrix.

Harry unclenched his teeth slowly, only just realizing as his dad stared at him that he had even reacted to the onslaught of memories.

Drawing in another slow breath, through his mouth this time, Harry let those memories ebb away as well.

He flipped the lightweight blanket off of his legs. As he swung his legs over the edge, he asked as casually as he could, “Will there be an inquiry into Bellatrix’s death?”

Severus shook his head. “A simple case of self-defense. Tonks submitted her report.”

Harry nodded, relieved that his dad wouldn’t have to answer to any authorities.

His dad looked like he wanted to say more, but Harry didn’t give him a chance. He stood quickly, relieved that he didn’t seem to be feeling any ill-effects from Bellatrix’s curse.

“It was Dawn,” he said off-handedly as he padded over to his bureau.

“Yes,” Severus answered to Harry’s back, his voice even quieter than it had been a moment ago. “Bellatrix was using a very complicated glamour-”

Harry nodded as he turned back around—he didn’t really want to know the specifics. “I figured,” he interrupted. The lines around Severus’ mouth deepened; Harry looked away. “I’ll just get a shower, I guess,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

Remus, he noted warily, was staring at him intently. Harry forced his shoulders to relax as Remus stood.

“Harry…” Remus’ hand was trembling as he put it on Harry’s shoulder. He made a sort of choking sound, and then he gathered Harry into a fierce hug. Not expecting it, Harry stumbled back a step. Remus didn’t even seem to notice.

Once Harry had regained his footing, he patted Remus clumsily on a shoulder blade. And then he gave a little tug against Remus’ hold. He met his dad’s gaze over Remus’ shoulder, and quickly looked down again.

“Er…I really should have a shower. I, uh…I feel a bit grotty.”

Remus’ arms slackened a little. Harry quickly stepped back, and turned away, his bundle of clean clothes pressed to his chest. He passed his father quickly, keeping his eyes trained solidly on the stones beneath his feet.

--

Severus watched Harry step quickly past, listening to his purposeful footsteps against the old stones with a furrowed brow. His instincts had been shattered as soon as Remus had embraced Harry. Severus had assumed that such contact was the first thing Harry would want when he woke. He’d been waiting, rather impatiently, to supply it.

But now, he had no idea how to proceed.

And he had to force himself not to go after Harry.

He turned slightly at the sounds of robes rustling. Remus was sitting on the bed, staring at his hands. He hadn’t said a word, not one since he’d followed Severus and Harry home last night. Tonks had come afterward, after a long trip to the Ministry. She’d only left a few hours ago, in fact. Remus hadn’t seemed to notice her presence, or her absence. He had simply sat all night, watching Harry sleep.

He looked up now, and his eyes were filled with so much pain, Severus almost looked away. Remus jaw trembled; his hands were wound tightly in his robes now.

“I loved him,” he finally gasped, his voice raw and jagged.

Severus’ jaw tensed as he tried to keep eye contact with the other man—tried to keep his eyes from widening with surprise. Remus stared at him for a long moment, and then he pushed himself up jerkily. He weaved slightly as he surged forward.

Severus caught his arms as he stumbled. Remus’ head snapped up, and he stared at Severus, his eyes filled with tears now. A harsh breath tumbled from his lips in a great whoosh, and then he ripped his arm away and fled the room.

Severus stared at the empty corridor as he heard the door in the sitting room slamming; his curled fingers were pulsing slightly from loss of the tight grip.

Closing his eyes briefly, and attempting futilely to push the image of Black’s unseeing eyes from his mind, he went slowly into the sitting room, so confused that he was almost in a daze.

He forced himself to focus momentarily. Realizing that it would certainly not help Harry to lose another so close, he grabbed a handful of glittering powder, flung it into the grate, and called for Tonks’ flat. He stuck his head through the flames as soon as they sprung up. Tonks had already turned toward the fireplace, though she looked surprised to see Severus in the flames.

“Is Remus all right?” she asked worriedly.

“He is…somewhat distraught,” Severus answered, trying not to allow any discomfort to enter his tone. “He left Hogwarts. I need to stay with Harry.”

Tonks nodded, and began to stand, only to falter a little. She clutched at the arm of her chair, and sank into its depths with a little gasp, her hand pressed into her abdomen.

Without thinking about the motion, Severus immediately stepped through the flames. He had his wand out seconds later as he reached her chair, but Tonks shook her head.

“I’m all right,” she said, a little breathlessly. She smiled when Severus raised an eyebrow. “I just stood too quickly.”

She stood up, slowly this time, and stepped around Severus. He didn’t have a chance to say more before she quickly pulled a heavy cloak from a peg near her front door and slipped quietly from the room.

Severus’ mind didn’t linger on either Tonks or Remus. Remus would find comfort with Tonks, he was certain. Harry, on the other hand….

Severus stepped swiftly through the Floo and was spun expertly back to his sitting room.

He waited impatiently for Harry to finish his shower, pacing a little in front of the fireplace until after what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally came into the room. His hair was pressed in a damp clutch close to his scalp—it didn’t even look liked he’d run a towel through it.

A few drops of water slipped past his fringe.

Harry pushed the excess hair off his forehead impatiently as he stepped in from the corridor.

He paused, his eyebrows drawn together. “Did Remus leave?” he asked. He relaxed measurably when Severus nodded.

“Are you hungry?” Severus asked hesitantly, still unsure how to begin a conversation about Black. He was surprised when Harry answered in the affirmative.

“Famished, actually,” Harry corrected as several dishes appeared on the table. He slid into his seat, and unfolded his napkin without hesitation. He glanced up at Severus, who was still standing. “You aren’t eating?”

“I ate this morning,” Severus murmured, only mildly bothered by the lie.

“Oh.” Harry nodded, and then he poured out a rather large amount of pumpkin juice into a glass, and slid it across the table. “Unless you prefer coffee?” he said with a tiny smile.

Severus kept his features carefully under control as he sat across from Harry and watched with growing alarm as Harry dished out hearty portions from the serving platters, until his plate was nearly overflowing with scrambled egg.

Severus blinked when the large metal spoon clattered noisily as Harry dropped it back onto the platter. Harry didn’t appear to notice; he poured another excessive amount of pumpkin juice into his own glass, and then he began to butter his toast.

“Do you need any help with frogs this morning?” he asked conversationally as he scraped the knife back and forth.

With a deft movement, Severus plucked the knife from Harry’s hand. Harry’s hand hung in mid-air for a surprised moment, before he lowered it back to the table.

“Harry,” Severus began carefully as he set the knife on the table, “I know it is easier to ignore what happened last night-”

“Bellatrix killed Sirius,” Harry interrupted evenly. He set the over-buttered slice of toast on the summit of his egg mountain. “I’m not ignoring it,” he said as he brushed the crumbs from his palms.

Severus reached forward and settled his hand very gently atop Harry. Harry glanced at it briefly but didn’t pull away. “If you wish to speak about-”

“There isn’t any need to,” Harry said with a shrug. “He’s dead. Whinging on about it won’t help that.”

Severus ignored the tightening sensation in his chest. “Giving voice to your emotion is not whinging, Harry,” he said quietly. “It may-”

Harry pulled his hand away.

Severus’ fingers curled against the smooth tabletop, as Harry smiled wryly. “You said this the first time, remember?” The first time… “But I’m really all right,” Harry went on blithely as he folded his hands in his lap, “though I guess it wouldn’t have hurt to let Remus have a bit of a cry if he needed one.”

“You and Remus both suffered a great loss,” Severus said, his worry spiking at the slightly disdainful tone in Harry’s voice. “Tears are perfectly natural.”

Harry shrugged.

“I know that.” The legs of his chair scraped along the floor as he stood up. “So, frogs, then? Or something else?”

Severus pursed his lips as he tried to understand why Harry was pretending he was unaffected by his godfather’s sudden death. Except that it didn’t seem like Harry was pretending. Severus couldn’t feel any emotions from his son, not at all. Gently enough that Harry wouldn’t notice, Severus probed the tiny wisp nestled protectively in his own flames—the wisp was dense and closed off.

Severus frowned.

Not wanting to repeat some of their earlier experiences after Harry had buried his emotions, Severus stood as well, and gestured silently for Harry to join him on the long sofa. Harry looked confused, but he sat obediently. His hands were once again folded in his lap-an undeniably protective gesture. His fringe had once again fallen into his eyes.

Keeping his own emotions at bay, Severus swept the fringe aside. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, inhaling a little bit. And then, as if realizing he had given something away, his eyes popped open and he straightened up.

Severus settled his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and was grateful that Harry didn’t object.

When Severus spoke again, his voice was rougher than he would have liked. “You need not pretend that you are not hurting.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, and in that instant, pain flooded Harry’s wisp. It was gone again before Severus could focus on it.

“I’m not-”

“I can feel your shields,” Severus said softly, and in the next moment, he regretted the fumbling attempt at helping his son. Harry stood abruptly.

“You don’t need to poke about in my head,” he said tightly. Before Severus could protest Harry’s wording, Harry was speaking again. “And we already covered this,” he went on in a more measured tone as he stuffed his fists in his pockets. “He’s died twice now. We don’t need to spend any more time discussing how I need to mourn for him.”

Severus kept his eyes firmly on his son’s. “I realize you need to time to process what happened-”

“No,” Harry said, his breath huffing out in frustration, “I don’t. I watched Bellatrix kill him. I understand what that means. I went through this already. But it’s different this time.”

“Why?” Severus couldn’t keep his voice from trying to break as he struggled to keep his it even.

Harry flipped a hand through his hair, something that Severus had never seen Harry do, and it reminded him eerily of James. “I have you now, right?” he said with yet another casual shrug. “And I barely knew Sirius, not really, anyway. And I don’t need him like I did before. He only used to be my only family.”

Severus narrowed his eyes as Harry’s voice took on a strange, far-away cadence, as if he was reciting a very detailed list, long since forgotten.

“And honestly, his first time through the Veil, well that was a bit of a waste, wasn’t it? He died laughing, you know, and it was sort of an accident, really. So at least this time, he would have been happy with the way it happened. He was trying to save me, you know.” He gestured randomly toward Severus. “I mean, obviously it was you he saved, but I wouldn’t have been able to function half so well if you’d died, so I am really grateful for that part, you know. And it’s not as if I wanted Sirius to die. Of course I didn’t, but I managed once, so…”

Harry’s fingers flitted in the air, and then he fell silent. “Oh, and about what I said,” he said, his face scrunching up a little, “well, I didn’t mean it.”

Severus had to swallow as his throat tightened. “I know,” he agreed softly. “You were upset-”

Harry nodded, and Severus could see his throat constricting. “I was, yeah…a bit.” He glanced away as he cleared his throat. “So...can we work on one of your potions then?” he asked as his eyes met Severus’ again.

Severus, uncertain if playing at normalcy was a good idea, wanted to shake his head, and insist that they speak about Black, but the Floo opened before he could. Arthur Weasley’s face poked uncertainly through the green flames. Severus stood.

“Severus…Harry,” Arthur greeted them with a tentative nod. “I don’t wish to disturb you…”

“Step through, Arthur, by all means,” Severus said, inclining his head.

Arthur nodded again and stepped onto the hearth rug. He gave Harry a very sad smile. “We wanted to offer our condolences,” he said in his soft voice.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry’s cheeks flushed the slightest bit, though Severus couldn’t ascertain the reason for the sudden color.

Arthur patted Harry’s shoulder three times before pulling his hand away. “Ginny and Ron both wanted to see you, of course, but Molly thought it best that I should check on your first…”

Harry wetted his bottom lips and nodded. “Thanks.”

Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobbed a few times. “Sirius…well, he’ll be sincerely missed, Harry. He was-”

“I know,” Harry said quickly, his voice gruff as he nodded jerkily. Arthur blinked a few times, but nodded along with Harry.

“Of course you do,” he said kindly. Another few pats to Harry’s shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready for visitors, Harry, Ginny and Ron will both come. Or,” he added with a warm smile, “you know you are always welcome at the Burrow.”

“Thanks,” Harry repeated, still sounding too tense to Severus’ ear. He ducked his head as he continued apologetically, “My dad and I were going to work on a few potions this morning, though…”

“A wonderful idea,” Arthur put in soothingly, catching Severus’ eye over Harry’s bowed head. The worry in the other man’s face was startling clear. Severus knew, of course, academically anyway, that the Weasleys were very fond of Harry—loved him even, but it was still a bit disconcerting to see that communicated so openly in Arthur’s face.

“Perhaps we will be able to pay a visit in the morning,” Severus said. Arthur nodded in understanding. Harry said nothing, though he did finally look up again.

“Will you tell Ginny and Ron not to worry?” he asked. “Tell them I’m all right?”

Arthur squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “They’ll worry nonetheless,” he said quietly. Addressing Severus, he said, “If you need any help with the funeral arrangements-”

Harry jerked a little at that, and Arthur fell silent.

“Come and see us when you can,” he said after a moment. And with another glance for Severus, Arthur stepped back through the flames and was whisked away.

Harry’s shoulders relaxed as the flames died down. He turned and headed straight for Severus’ lab. Severus followed slowly in his wake, as he attempted to decide how to broach the subject of Black’s funeral.

“What are you working on?” Harry asked as he slid into one of the stools. He leaned over the table to peek inside the two cauldrons that were being held in stasis shields. He pulled back abruptly. “That’s…the Curse Repellent…isn’t it?” he asked quietly. At Severus’ silent nod, Harry drew in a slow breath.

“We do not know if it would have worked,” Severus told him, wanting to somehow force his son to give in to the grief he was so obviously feeling.

Harry stood up, his eyes glued to the cauldron. “Right,” he agreed. He swerved around the stool, backed up a few steps, and turned so abruptly that he smacked into Severus’ chest; Severus steadied him with a nimble hand.

“You know, I don’t really feel much like gutting frogs,” Harry said as he stepped back. “Maybe we could take a walk or something.” He tugged at his collar with a finger. “It feels sort of hot in here.”

“We will have to put several different warding spells on you before we can leave the castle’s protection. Bellatrix did not use a Portkey that we could find.” At Harry’s look of confusion, Severus explained, “She placed a spell on you, and it may be able to be used by someone else.”

Harry sighed. “We?” he asked, completely bypassing more important questions.

“I would prefer to have Albus’ help with the counter spells. However, he is indisposed at the moment.”

Harry didn’t even ask why. His shoulders slumped.

“Bellatrix was working with Simon, as you know,” Severus continued, watching Harry carefully for a reaction, but Harry only nodded. “And Lucius has been called before the Wizengamot. A mistrial will likely be declared.”

“Well,” Harry said wearily, “maybe Dumbledore can help us after he’s finished there.”

“The castle grounds are warded,” Severus told him, making it a suggestion, but Harry shook his head.

“Maybe I’ll lie down for awhile.”

Severus nodded, but Harry didn’t turn toward the corridor. His hands were once again stuffed in his pockets; his shoulders hunched up.

No longer able to still his anxiety, Severus stepped toward his son and put an arm around his shoulders. Harry’s shoulders fell back into a more natural position and he leaned forward limply. His breathing was too shallow, but at least he didn’t pull away.

Severus brought his other arm up and pulled Harry closer. Harry didn’t move, didn’t reciprocate in any way. But he was almost a dead weight in Severus’ arms.

Tentatively, Severus projected as much warmth through his shields as he could, and hoped it would be enough until Harry was ready to grieve.

They stood together in their comfortable silence for a long time.

“I’m really tired,” Harry finally mumbled, actually sounding like he was this time, but even so, he made absolutely no effort to move.

“I will give you a Dream Suppressive,” Severus assured him.

“I don’t need it. I’m really all right.” And still, Harry didn’t push away. “I hadn’t time to get used to him being back.”

Severus carded his fingers lightly through Harry’s rumpled hair and nodded. “That does not mean you will not miss him.”

Harry had no response to that.

“I will sit with you until you fall asleep.”

Harry’s breathing deepened just enough to signal to Severus that he had answered the question that Harry had been unwilling to ask.

Harry nodded, and after another few seconds, he stepped back. His cheeks were uncommonly pale. Severus kept one arm around his shoulder, and with Harry leaning into the support, they walked together back to Harry’s room. Harry sank onto the bed while Severus plucked two vials from the full tray beside the bed.

Harry took the proffered potions without protest, drinking them in two swift gulps. Harry tossed the empty vials between his hands; the glass clinked delicately.

“I’m all right,” he said softly, his voice already beginning to slur as the Sleeping Potion attempted to take hold. Severus nodded, and gestured for Harry to get under the covers. Harry ignored the blanket at the foot of the bed and simply twisted so that he was lying on his side. The two vials rolled onto the sheet as he flexed his fingers lazily.

Severus tugged the blanket up to Harry’s shoulder and bent to retrieve the vials. Harry caught his hand; Severus curled his fingers comfortingly around his son’s. Harry’s eyes suddenly had focus as he gazed into Severus’.

“You’re not going anywhere, right?” he asked quietly. Severus lowered himself lightly onto the mattress; Harry rolled onto his back, his eyes still on his father.

Severus shook his head. “No,” he assured his son as smoothed the blanket. Harry swallowed as he nodded against his pillow. He closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around Severus’. And even as his breathing steadied with sleep, his grip did not slacken.

Severus stayed beside him, and held his hand.

--

Harry stepped onto the dais.

The Veil was beckoning to him. Harry reached his hand toward its filmy surface.

As the tips of his fingers brushed the flowing curtain, he could swear that he could hear Sirius’ voice, softly summoning him.

“I’m coming,” Harry called.

He stepped through.

Harry blinked in confusion as he found his darkened room instead of the void-like place that he remembered as the space beyond the Veil.

He could see his dad in the same chair he’d been in earlier; his head flopped in that uncomfortable angle of deep sleep. His dad’s hand was still gripping his. Harry re-settled his head on his soft pillow, and let his mind drift over the images he’d seen his sleep.

It wasn’t a dream; couldn’t be, since he’d obediently taken his father’s potion.

It had been his mind, working over a problem, trying to solve it. Sirius had come back once, the deep places in his mind had reasoned. He’d never really been gone, in fact. And though Harry had gotten used to his absence once, there wasn’t really any reason to do it again.

And even though he didn’t need Sirius-his fingers squeezed absently against his dad’s-well, Sirius deserved a chance to live.

He gave his life for me.

And Remus would want him to come back.

I don’t need him the way I used to…but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want to be here anyway.

Harry nodded.

Yes, Sirius would want to come back.

Harry smiled.

The first thing he’d need to do would be to send a letter to Hermione. She’d know where to start…

1996

“Your attempt at therapy is unnecessary.”

“Wasn’t it you who told your son last night that it is not a sign of weakness to explore your feelings?”

Severus didn’t even bother to ask how Albus had known that. He went back to stirring his elixir. Albus smiled sadly at him.

“Harry will figure out eventually that you are going through your own grieving process,” he said, reaching forward as though to touch Severus’ arm, but the headmaster’s hand veered off at the last moment, and he picked up a small vial of Boomslang juice instead.

Severus plucked it from his fingers and uncorked the stopper. “I am hardly grieving.”

“Your enemy gave his life so that your son would not lose his father.”

“I know,” Severus said tersely.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, his aged voice softening as he leaned forward, “you could not have known that Sirius would die.”

Severus narrowed his eyes, the words raising his defenses.

“Harry will not resent you because of Sirius’ sacrifice.”

Severus’ face darkened. He overturned the vial of juice in his fingers more abruptly than he’d meant to. He snarled as the potion immediately began to hiss and roil. Albus waved his wand without a word and the potion stilled just as it touched the rim of the cauldron.

Severus glared as he Vanished the ruined potion; Albus was giving him a knowing look over his ridiculous half-moon spectacles.

“I am concerned about Harry,” Severus said stiffly.

“Of course you are, Severus,” Albus answered in that overly gentle way of his. “You and Harry are very much alike.”

Severus turned away from his cauldrons, ignoring the remark as he returned to the relative safety of the sitting room. Albus followed him.

“If you would like to speak with someone-”

Severus took the little box of Floo powder down from the mantle, a disdainful curl to his lip. “I hardly believe hearing my own feelings on the subject will encourage Harry to accept Black’s death.”

Albus’ sad smile was still in force. “I was speaking of myself,” he correctly softly. He ignored the open box of Floo powder which was shoved pointedly toward him. “Though I believe that your confession of gratitude toward Sirius would be an effective way to encourage Harry to admit to his own feelings. Sharing grief with another is often therapeutic,” Albus continued sagely.

“Harry rejected Lupin’s attempt at shared grief,” Severus returned, though the words seemed to come of their own accord. He was certain he had no desire to attempt to unravel his painfully jumbled feelings toward Black.

“Remus’ emotions were likely too overwhelming for Harry…it was too soon.” Albus rearranged his robes as he seated himself in one of the chairs, studiously ignoring Severus’ rather blunt invitation to leave. “Remus is doing better this evening, by the way,” Albus informed Severus lightly.

Severus replaced the powder impatiently on the mantel; it clinked against the soft stone. “I had assumed as much.”

Albus’ blue eyes were slightly reproving. “Remus needs more than Nymphadora to see him through this, Severus.”

Severus glanced toward the corridor, hoping that Harry would take his time joining them. “I believe we are beyond insinuations that I would deny Harry whatever measure of comfort he might find with Lupin, or vice versa,” he said, letting his words contain just a touch of acerbity, in the hope that it would move the old meddler from his sitting room.

“Oh, we certainly are, dear boy,” Albus agreed, paying no attention to his tone. “Are we not also beyond the point where you insist that you and Remus have not established a friendship?”

Severus simply gazed back at the headmaster.

There was triumph in the headmaster’s eyes as he smiled. And having made his point, he changed the subject. “There has been quite an uproar in the Ministry regarding Bellatrix’ return. It has been confirmed that Dawn Ridley was somehow replaced, and was in fact the one Kissed by Dementors. Lucius will stand trial once more. Both he and Narcissa will be questioned about their knowledge regarding Bellatrix’s and Bavister’s plans regarding Harry.”

Severus had assumed as much, and though some part of him wanted answers—and even revenge for the deadly mistake, he was far too preoccupied to sort out the correct question.

“I have made it clear that Harry is in no condition to testify in either matter,” Albus added.

Ah.

Severus nodded, letting the small movement express his gratitude. Albus smiled at him once more.

--

Harry stared at his reflection. Sometimes, he missed his glasses. Somehow, his face didn’t seem complete without them. Rather like Ron without his freckles. Or Hermione without a book.

Harry’s stomach churned as he thought about the letter he had written earlier to Hermione—and the avoidance of truth.

He knew perfectly well that his father would object. A trip through the Veil would be considered far too dangerous, but he owed Sirius to at least try. And since both his dad and Remus had come back through the Veil in better shape than they’d left, it couldn’t be classed as reckless…not exactly.

Harry ran his fingers several times through his hair before he pulled open the door-his gut would settle down once Hermione sent him a response to the letter he’d sent off that morning. He walked slowly down the corridor, and was mildly surprised to find Dumbledore sitting across from his father.

“Good evening, sir,” Harry said politely as he came into the room; he returned his father’s small smile.

“Good evening, Harry.”

Harry looked away from Dumbledore’s sad blue eyes. The only distraction was the tea service on the table. And even though Harry didn’t usually drink tea, he poured himself a slow cup, closing his eyes as he listened to the soft sizzle of the hot liquid as it cascaded into the china. But even though he was busying his hands with several heaping spoonfuls of sugar, Dumbledore didn’t stop talking.

“How are you feeling this morning, Harry?”

“Well, sir,” Harry answered as he watched the heap of sugar dissolving into the black brew.

“I would like to offer my condolences.”

Even the rapid clinking of the spoon against the cup was not enough to drown out Dumbledore’s cloying voice.

“Sirius was very proud of you, my boy. You were always the first topic of any of our conversations-”

“I know,” Harry said shortly as he lifted the cup; the tea dribbled over the sides. “You told me the last time he died.”

Dumbledore didn’t hide his surprise at Harry’s blunt response. “Yes…” he murmured, “…I suppose I did.”

Harry nodded as he sipped his tea, which was entirely too hot for his liking. He wondered how his father would respond if he asked Dumbledore to get on with whatever he wanted. He glanced at Severus, who seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking.

“Was there anything else, Albus?” Severus asked, his voice not exactly polite, but no one would have been able to call the question boorish either. And Dumbledore didn’t even look offended as he nodded. He pulled a thick roll of parchment from his robes.

“Avonlea Barsey from the Hall of Records sent this with me,” he said. His voice had dropped an octave, and a little tickle crawled up Harry’s spine. “Sirius’ will,” Dumbledore added softly.

“You are still named as his primary beneficiary,” Dumbledore continued in a voice that could only be called cautious. Harry didn’t react to the news, save a careless shrug. It wouldn’t matter soon. Dumbledore’s tone became even gentler as he said, “There are instructions regarding his funeral-”

The teacup slipped from Harry’s fingers. The sound of shattering china reverberated in his ears. His father’s black robes filled his vision, but Harry could only see the fluttering of the immortal fabric in the Department of Mysteries.

“No.” Harry was fairly certain he was the one who had spoken, although his voice didn’t sound quite right.

“Albus, I believe it may be best to continue with this discussion another day…” His father’s voice quieted, “…perhaps after Christmas has passed.”

“Yes, of course, Severus,” Dumbledore was murmuring. Harry closed his eyes. Christmas was only a few days away now. Perhaps there would be enough time… If Hermione had any information.

“Reparo.”

Harry looked up, suddenly very aware that his father was standing so close.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said, a little thickly, indicating the newly repaired teacup with a bob of his head.

His father set the cup back on its saucer as he waved his wand once more; the pooling tea vanished. “It is no matter,” he answered simply. Harry nodded; it wasn’t really, since magic had fixed it so easily. Magic could fix anything, he mused…even death. It had fixed it more than once, in Harry’s life. His own life had been saved twice, his father’s once...Sirius…

“…the Weasleys?”

Harry blinked slowly. “Erm…what?” he asked, though he didn’t bother trying to figure out what his dad had been saying.

“Molly Weasley invited us to dine with them tonight,” Severus said, his voice overly calm and patient. Harry shook his head though. Seeing his friends’ pitying eyes was the last thing he wanted to do. Now, if Hermione had been in the country…he’d have an entirely different answer.

“It’s almost Christmas Eve. They’re probably doing family things,” Harry said, trying to make his voice light, even though his mind was spinning with plans.

“You are part of their family,” Severus pointed out easily, reiterating what Arthur had said yesterday. “Ginny and Ron, not to mention Molly, are eager to see you.”

“Yeah…” Harry murmured distractedly. He glanced toward his room as he realized he might be able to put his invisibility cloak to use—it was certainly lucky that his father had never tried to confiscate it. And actually, Ron would agree to help him if he asked—especially if Hermione was able to figure out the spell that Dumbledore had used when they’d gone through the Veil.

Come to think of it though, he mused, Hermione might need a bit of assistance, since she didn’t have access to Hogwarts’ Restricted Section in the library like Harry did. Though, how he would get in there…Dobby! Dobby would jump at a chance to help.

Turning his attention back to his father, who was gazing at him with unmasked concern, Harry nodded. “Yeah, all right. I’d like to see the Weasleys.”

Severus’ brow furrowed as he stared down at Harry. “Are you certain?”

Harry turned back to the tea pot. “Sure,” he said as he gripped the handle and poured himself a fresh cup. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He turned back to his father with the easiest smile he could muster. “I haven’t seen Ginny in a week.” He made sure not to mention Ron.

His father was frowning slightly. “If you would prefer to remain here, we may,” he said slowly. “Perhaps you would like a rematch-”

“I’m fine,” Harry interrupted, and then hastily added, trying assuage at least a little of the worry in his father’s eyes, “but we can play chess this evening when we come back. We…uh, don’t have to stay long.”

Just long enough to speak with Ron…

“Harry…” Severus began, his eyes tumultuous, but then he shook his head very slightly. “When you wish to speak to someone about your godfather, I am here.”

Harry nodded quickly, trying to ignore the tiny twinge in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, I know, dad,” he added, when his father didn’t look any less concerned. “But really…” he shrugged vaguely. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

And it would be, Harry told himself firmly, just as soon as he had everything ready.

--

Harry had an armful of Ginny as soon as he stepped onto the Weasleys’ hearth rug.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she was whispering in his ear before he could draw breath, her voice thick with tears. Ron and Mrs. Weasley were standing just behind Ginny.

Harry gave her a perfunctory squeeze, mumbling, “Thanks.” He drew back a little. Ginny turned her face up to look at him; she looked rather misty. “I’m all right,” he told her quickly, withdrawing his arms from their loose hold around her waist. Ginny stepped back reluctantly.

“We’ve been worried about you,” she told him quietly. Harry nodded, giving her the same version of a smile he’d given his father earlier.

“Thanks,” he repeated. Ginny’s ginger brows furrowed.

“Good evening, Severus,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice a bit wobbly as well, making Harry wish he could step back through the Floo. Why did they all have to act as though some terrible tragedy had occurred? Sirius would be back again. But of course, they hadn’t realized just how simple it could be.

“The invitation was most appreciated, Molly,” Severus returned politely. Mrs. Weasley gave him a watery sort of smile.

“How are you, Harry?” Ron asked tentatively as Ginny moved to Harry’s side, her hand wrapped securely in his.

Harry nodded, too caught up in deciding how he was going to broach the subject with Ron to answer properly.

“…we have extra mittens and caps if you would like to join them.”

Harry turned his head toward Mrs. Weasleys’ voice; he felt a little foggy. “Extra mittens?” he echoed.

“It’s snowing,” Ron told him quietly. “Everyone else is outside with snowballs. Bill and Charlie are making a castle.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Would you like to come?” Ginny asked, squeezing his hand a little.

“Er…yeah, sounds like fun,” Harry answered, though it actually sounded anything but.

“You can come as well, Professor,” Ron added, who was watching Severus intently.

“Thank you, Ron,” Severus murmured. Ron’s cheeks pinked a little and he hastily nodded. Ginny gave her brother a little smile. Even Mrs. Weasley was smiling now, though Harry couldn’t really tell what had caused their reactions. Ginny tugged on Harry’s hand, and Harry’s feet moved along with the pressure.

Once Sirius was back—for good this time—maybe he’d like to build a snowman. Harry chuckled. Or maybe a snowdog.

“Harry?”

Ginny and Ron—and his father and Mrs. Weasley, actually, were all staring at him. He held up his hands…when had he put the mittens on? And his jumper and jeans were now covered with a heavy cloak.

“Are…are you all right?” Ginny asked, stepping close to him; she had a wooly cap in her hand.

“Yep,” he said, and pulled the proffered cap over his ears. Definitely a snowdog. “Do you know, I’ve never built a snowman,” he said conversationally as he turned to follow Ginny and Ron out the backdoor. Ron gave him a strange look over his shoulder, but then he smiled.

“It’s brilliant with magic. Dad makes the best ones,” he said.

The sky was dark and cloudy as they stepped outside. Ginny took Harry’s hand again, but Harry tugged it a little and Ginny turned, her eyebrows up in question.

“I need to talk to Ron for second, all right?”

“Okay,” she told him. She stretched up on her toes and kissed Harry’s cheek. She squeezed his hand once before drifting toward her older brothers, who were all clustered around a towering fort made out of slick snow.

Harry could feel his father’s eyes on him. He had moved far enough from Harry and Ron that he would not be eavesdropping, but he was nowhere near enough to the rest of the Weasleys to be considered part of the group.

Harry took Ron’s arm and twisted around a little so that his back was to his father.

Ron was peering at him. “You all right, mate?”

Harry nodded, waving his hand unconcernedly. “I’m great, Ron,” he said, a little too forcefully. “But I need you to do a favor for me.”

Ron nodded without hesitation. “Sure, Harry, what is it?”

Harry leaned in as he lowered his voice. “I owled Hermione this morning. I need her to do some research for me-”

“Research?” Ron echoed. “But we’re on holiday-”

“I know,” Harry interrupted impatiently, his voice a little too sharp. “It’s not a school assignment-”

“Harry, you don’t look well,” Ron interjected again, his voice filled with worry. “Maybe I should get your dad.”

“No!” Harry exploded in a loud whisper. Ron took a step back, surprised at the outburst. “Look,” Harry said, lowering his voice. “I can’t tell you what it’s about yet, but I might need your help tonight…or tomorrow. If Hermione can help me, that is. If she has any ideas.”

“Harry, you aren’t making any sense.

“I know, but it will make sense later,” Harry promised. “I’ll Floo through if I can…when I need you, but you can’t tell anyone about it,” he warned, his voice hardening.

Ron glanced over Harry’s shoulder, presumably where Severus was still standing. When he turned back to Harry, his face was twisted with confusion.

“Harry-” he started to say.

Harry grabbed Ron’s arm, his fingers digging roughly into his thick jumper. “You’ve got to promise, all right?” he demanded, his voice rising a little as he shook his friend’s arm.

Ron stared at him. His blue eyes were wider than usual as he slowly nodded. “Yeah, mate…all right…”

Harry’s pent breath whooshed out in relief. He pulled his fingers jerkily from Ron’s sleeve, allowing the blood to pulse through them again.

Ron let his arm fall as he stared at Harry.  Harry could see the Weasleys over Ron’s right shoulder. They were laughing as Bill caught a face full of snow. The happy sounds squeezed Harry’s heart painfully. And their cloaks seemed to be moving in colorful slow motion—their laughter disjointed and heavy.

Harry rounded away. His father was watching him, just as he’d expected. Severus’ face stiffened as soon as Harry turned. What his father saw on his face, Harry had no idea, but he had to get away from here.

“Can we go?” he croaked. He tried to clear his throat to push down the emotion he hadn’t meant to let slip through. It would be all right, he told himself quickly. Sirius would be back in no time. Harry forced his storm to regain control—to soothe its torrents as his father came toward him.

By the time his dad reached him, Harry had already turned away, keeping his eyes from connecting with Ron’s. He fumbled a little with the knob on the backdoor; his thick mittens slipped against the metal. Long, gloved fingers brushed his away and twisted the knob without hesitation.

Those same fingers pressed against his shoulder blades, guiding him into the house.

“Harry, wait!”

It was Ginny’s voice alone now, calling for him as he stepped inside the Weasleys’ warm kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was tending to a large pot. She looked up and smiled at him. She looked confused though as Ginny scooted around Severus, barely brushing his dark cloak. Harry turned slowly to face Ginny when she grabbed his hand.

“Harry, what happened?” she asked breathlessly. “Did Ron-”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “I-I’m just not feeling very hungry,” he told her evasively as her eyes narrowed to study his face. Guilt swooped into the pit of his stomach again, but since he wasn’t going to ask Ginny to help, he couldn’t explain it to her, any more than he could to his father.

“You don’t have to eat anything,” Ginny told him softly, as she stepped closer. “If you just want to talk, we can.”

“Thanks, Ginny, but there’s really nothing to talk about,” he said with a shrug. And it was absolutely true. Of course there wasn’t any need to talk over his feelings about Sirius, if Sirius was going to be back soon. “As I said, I’m perfectly well.” There was no tremor in his voice this time.

“Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley interjected, coming out from around the long counter, “I think it might be best to allow Harry to return home with his father.” She put an arm around Ginny’s shoulder as Harry stepped back; Harry turned away from the bewildered look on Ginny’s face, with a hasty farewell. He could hear Mrs. Weasley murmuring something to someone, but he blocked out the sounds and hurried into the parlor.

He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, his foot jiggling impatiently as he waited for his father to cross the kitchen. They stepped into the fireplace together silently, mother and daughter thankfully blocked by the adjacent wall. Harry closed his eyes as the green fire swallowed him up.

His heart skipped as he spotted a tightly bound scroll on the table next to their own fireplace, and he stepped toward the otherwise empty table without a word. Harry recognized the precise script as Hermione’s immediately, but it was addressed to Severus Snape—not to Harry.

Hermione had written to his father…

Harry’s stomach tingled with nervous worry as his fingers closed quickly around the plump roll of parchment. “It’s from Hermione,” he said, sweeping his cloak out of the way to stuff the scroll in his pocket, leaving the top half sticking out at a scrunched angle. “I should go read it,” he said, glancing away toward his bedroom.

“In a moment,” his father said quietly; he was still wearing his cloak. “I would like to speak with you.”

Harry tried not to let his agitation show on his face. “I don’t need to talk. I’m-”

“Harry,” Severus said in placating voice, “you are not all right. I am not actively seeking your thoughts out, but I can feel your turmoil, even through your attempt to shield it from me.”

“I’m not,” Harry insisted. At his father’s skeptical look, Harry relented a little. “I just don’t want to talk about Sirius. There’s just nothing to talk about.”

Harry could tell that his father was wrestling with his thoughts as he gazed at Harry. When he finally spoke again, it was in a tone filled with caution. “Harry, you watched your godfather die for the second time two days ago. I know it was painful.”

“It was no more painful than it was last spring,” Harry said dully.

Severus nodded a little; the pain was sharp on his face. “I want to help you, Harry,” he said, his voice rough with emotions he was trying to control. His father’s features and voice had been waffling like that all day, Harry realized now. He had mostly watched while his father brewed, helping here and there while re-reading the same passages in one of his Quidditch magazines.

“I cannot explain how grateful I am to your godfather,” Severus went on, and Harry abruptly stopped thinking about those long hours spent wondering if Hermione had gotten his letter yet. The words excited him. When he brought Sirius through the Veil again, maybe his father and Sirius would really be able to be—well, not friends, certainly—but something better than enemies. Harry felt warm just thinking about it.

“I know he’d be glad to hear that,” Harry told him, but then he remembered Hermione’s letter. And his worry exploded in his gut again. “I’m really tired,” he said abruptly, which caused his dad’s forehead to crease over the sudden mood shift. “I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.”

“Harry-”

“We can talk later, okay? Bring a chessboard in a my room or something in an hour,” he suggested, not meaning it at all this time, and hoping maybe his father would forget.

Severus hesitated, but he nodded. “I will bring some soup as well.”

Well, he wouldn’t forget, Harry realized, but at least maybe his father would be a little less worried about talking him through his grief now. Really, wouldn’t his father be surprised to find Sirius back again! Harry gave his dad a small smile, meant to encourage, and hurried to his room, his hand fisted securely around Hermione’s letter.

He unfurled the letter as quickly as he could, his eyes immediately captured by the dark ink.

…I am really worried about Harry, she wrote after describing almost verbatim what Harry had asked for. He has always been very adept at ignoring his emotions, even burying them enough that I do think he actually believes that he is not angry or sad. Ron and I were extremely worried about him last year after Sirius died. And before that, when Harry decided to go to the Department of Mysteries, nothing would stop him. We did try, sir, but he refused to listen; he almost refused our help as well. If Harry has set his mind to bring Sirius back, nothing will be able to stop him, Professor, not even reason. I didn’t know what else to do-

Harry crumpled the scroll in his fist, his limbs heavy. He should have known better than to ask Hermione for help. Harry’s heartbeat thudded against his eardrums as he tried to slow his breathing; his fingers clenched the wad of paper so tightly that it hurt.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry felt a sudden surge of helplessness. Broken thoughts, disjointed plans, swam through his head, but nothing would fit together—like water-logged puzzle pieces that would never connect.

A hazy image of Sirius’ face floated among the mess. Slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders. Always grinning.

Harry clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut now against the memories. His stomach began to ache suddenly, and then burn fiercely. Harry shook his head, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks and remain there, pulsing. Leaning over, he pressed his fisted knuckles against his lids, breathing hard again.

Contacting Hermione for help had seemed so natural—so logical. But it had been a mistake; Harry knew that now.

She wasn’t going to help him—no one was going to help him. He let his arms hang down over his knees, trying to make himself be still. He could do this, he told himself fiercely. He had to do this. For Sirius.

He’d wait until his father was asleep, and then he’d get his Invisibility cloak and Floo to the Ministry. And since Hermione had turned out to be useless, it seemed he would need Dobby after all.

After casting a silencing charm on his door, Harry called for his old friend. Dobby appeared in front of him with a loud crack.

“Harry Potter, sir!” the little elf said excitedly; his face split in a huge grin. “Dobby has not seen Harry Potter in much too long!”

Harry nodded impatiently, glancing at the door as he slid off the bed and got down onto his knees so that he was eye-level with Dobby. “Dobby, I need your help,” he said in a whisper. Dobby nodded eagerly.

“Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter!”

“I know,” Harry said quickly. “Look, Dobby,” he continued in a whisper, “I need you to go to the Restricted Section and see if you can find any books about magic that will let a wizard spend time in the place beyond death—just for a little while. In a place called the Veil…”

Dobby didn’t look at all phased by the request. He clapped his hands together eagerly. “Dobby will find it right away, Harry Potter, sir!”

“Thanks, Dobby.”

Before Harry had even finished speaking, Dobby was gone again. Harry cast a Tempus Spell as he stood up, pacing along the short rug next to his bed, hoping his father wouldn’t decide to come in early. He needed the spell that Dumbledore had used. And if Hermione had already warned Ron, then Harry would just ask Dobby to come along to the Ministry to be whatever anchor his father had told him about-

There was another ear-splitting crack and Dobby was bouncing on his toes in front of Harry.

With a dusty book in his hands—so old it was almost in tatters. Dobby already had it open to a dog-eared page. “The Veil!” he said so excitedly that he almost toppled over into Harry’s lap as Harry crouched down again.

Harry scanned the page eagerly. He couldn’t be certain that this was the spell that Dumbledore had used, but there was definitely a spell about passing through the Veil “before your time”. And though it didn’t specifically mention coming back out again, it did say that you would need a partner wizard to incant the spell with you. Harry grinned at Dobby, who beamed.

“Thank you, Dobby!” he breathed.

“Dobby is very happy to help Harry Potter!” he squeaked. Harry hastily wrote the spell down, as well as the instructions on the back of Hermione’s letter and shoved the book back into Dobby’s wiry hands.

“Can you take it back?” Harry asked. “And I might need you later, so listen for me, all right?”

Dobby nodded happily and disappeared. Harry folded Hermione’s letter up neatly and put it back into his pocket. And then he opened his door. There was no way he could play through a game of chess with his father—no more than he could force down a bowl of soup.

He found his father in his room, sitting at his desk, doing nothing.

“Dad?” he asked, and then had to clear his throat when his voice squeaked.

Severus looked up; his eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. Harry clamped away his guilt and said in a tone that he hoped was appropriately subdued, “I’m really knackered. Do you mind if I just go to sleep? I really just can’t talk about Sirius yet.”

“I do understand that is difficult to voice your feelings when you lose someone,” Severus said after a moment, his eyes dark now. Harry knew that he was thinking of his mum…and probably James. His guilt spiked. But he had to ignore it. It was for Sirius.

“Could I have a sleeping potion? Just for tonight?”

Severus nodded as he stood. He summoned two vials though and handed them to Harry.

“Dream suppressive,” Severus explained.

Harry squeezed his fingers around the small vials a few times.

“You should go to sleep too,” Harry told his father, studying the dark circles contrasting with the sallow skin over his cheekbones.

“Perhaps,” Severus told him quietly. And then without warning, his father pulled him in for a hug, his arms tight around Harry’s back. “Everything will be all right,” Severus promised quietly, his voice thick.

Harry nodded wordlessly, letting his arms come up loosely. His father squeezed once more before allowing Harry to step back. He brushed Harry’s fringe away from his forehead.

“You may tell me anything, Harry…anything you are feeling,” he murmured. Harry nodded again.

“I know,” he whispered, the guilt clawing at his chest now. “Thanks,” Harry said roughly, not at all certain what he was thanking his father for, but it seemed that somewhere in his swirling thoughts, he owed his father a great deal more than he realized.

Severus gave Harry’s shoulder one more squeeze. “Take both vials,” he reminded his son.

Harry pulled the vials to his chest. “I will. Night, Dad,” he said quietly.

“Good night, Harry.”

Harry had to force himself to pull his eyes away from his father’s and turn back toward his room. He closed the door so that he could change into his pajamas, Vanishing the contents of the vials after he was done, and then propped the door half-open. His father’s door was half-closed as well, and the lights had been dimmed, but he could hear rustling sounds floating across the corridor.

Harry got under his covers, staring at the softly glowing walls and trying to imagine what Sirius’ face would like when he saw him again.

--

His door opened after awhile, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear his father’s quiet footsteps coming toward the bed; Harry tried to make his breathing as even as it would be in sleep.

His father’s hand came to brush Harry’s fringe softly aside again, and the guilt returned full force. It almost exploded as his father leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Severus’ warm hand pulled away slowly. And with his heart hammering in his chest, Harry listened to his father’s footsteps retreating.

And then he waited.

When he thought he would go mad from waiting any longer, Harry twisted out from under his covers. His bare feet hit the floor with only the quietest of splats, the souls icy as he worked them into his trainers. He dropped down briefly to cinch the laces, tugging the strings in jerky movements, his hands trembling.

Standing, his chest tightened with reckless adrenaline. He was more grateful than ever that his father had never thought to take away James’ cloak. Opening his school trunk cautiously, Harry lifted the shimmering, slippery fabric up, ignoring his cold, sweaty fingers as he clutched it close to his chest.

He wouldn’t let himself think. He couldn’t. Hermione was the planner. Harry was, and had always been, the one who acted on impulse. Everything would make sense once he was there. He reminded himself of this repeatedly.

With his heart hammering, Harry carefully leaned out into the corridor and shifted his eyes to his father’s half-open door. It was dark inside his father’s room. Closing his eyes in relief, Harry quickly rounded his doorframe.

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of the fireplace; the trip had been a blur. Harry grabbed the box of powder, his fingers so slick, he nearly lost his grip. It was well past midnight. Surely his dad would have nodded off by now.

Harry’s fist stilled in the box at the unbidden thought of his father; the glittery granules clung to his skin and burrowed into his fingernails as he stared into the powder. His mind was trying to conjure up a memory of Sirius’ sly grin, but the image was fuzzy. Harry’s throat felt tight as he slowly withdrew a fistful.

He replaced the box, his breaths heavy—too loud to his own ears—as he lowered his eyes to the dimly-glowing coals in the bottom of grate. Harry’s stomach clenched; he blinked several times. Like sand slipping through a sieve, the swell of adrenaline began to deflate.

Even dormant, the warmth of his father’s flames beside his storm radiated more warmth than those coals. Harry didn’t even have to imagine what his father’s face would look like when he discovered that he was gone—his face etched with hurt. Harry knew how disappointed he would be…he remembered how horrible it felt to lose his dad’s trust.

An unbearable weight settled in Harry’s stomach now. The high on which he had been riding came spiraling down, leaving his body suddenly cold and clammy. Harry’s eyes stung; he let his forehead fall against the rough stones as he closed them.

Harry wasn’t sure how long he stood leaning against the mantle, listening to the thudding of his heart; his muscles felt like they were melting. Floo powder had trickled from his slackened fingers; James’ cloak was already on the floor.

He couldn’t do it. Harry couldn’t betray his father.

Not even for Sirius.

Harry pressed his palm into the rough bricks next to his cheek, screwing his eyes up.

Sirius was dead.

Dead.

And he wasn’t coming back. His father and Sirius would not make amends. And there would be no snowdog this Christmas. Or any Christmas. Such a stupid, childish thought.

Harry’s throat swelled; raw grief gripped his chest so suddenly that he lost his breath.

Sirius was gone...

Gone.

“Harry...”

He heard the voice, but all Harry could do was shake his head, the brick scraping against his skin. A hand settled on his shoulder, tugging gently, but Harry couldn’t move.

He tried to open his mouth, to speak, to tell the intruder to leave him alone, but his lips were paralyzed in a noiseless sob; he couldn’t breathe. Harry’s face crumpled slowly, his stomach shriveling in agonized sorrow.

The hand became more insistent, and then another hand settled on top of Harry’s own, as Harry tried to dig his fingernails into the brick.

Like a wild animal, Harry tossed the larger hand away and began to flail against the grip around his shoulders. His mouth moved on silent words that he couldn’t voice; his eyes burned with wetness.

“No,” Severus said gently, pulling a stiffened Harry to his chest and holding him tightly. “No more fighting. Let it come.”

Harry shook his head against his father’s chest, but even as he did so, he could feel his throat begin to sear.

“Yes,” Severus continued softly, “I know—“

Choking on a thick sob, Harry pressed his face into the warm, damp fabric of his father’s chest.

“Shhh…” his father soothed. “I know it hurts. I am here.”

Harry clenched his father’s robes in his fists; sobs tore at his throat, but he continued to shake his head more fervently; his whole body ached. Everything felt so heavy.

“It will be all right—“

Harry’s wailing was muffled against Severus’ chest, as if Harry were trying to tell him that nothing would ever be all right again.

Strong fingers entangled in Harry’s hair and held him in place.

“I promise,” Severus assured him, gently shushing him once more. But Harry only cried harder.

Severus tightened his arms as the sobs gained volume, and slowly Harry’s limbs—his entire body—was flaccid in Severus’ arms.

“I am here,” Severus soothed again, his voice low and melodic as Harry’s weight began to drag against his legs until slowly Severus sank to his knees—Harry’s hysterical sobbing was muffled now in Severus’ dressing gown. Harry’s fingers were wound tightly in the thick fabric as the tears shook both of them.

Severus cradled his son to his chest, holding him as tightly as he could.

1996

Harry's fingers curled around the cup of tea as soon as Severus put it into his hand.

"Thanks," Harry murmured thickly, his voice clogged from the long crying spell. His other hand was wound around the flannel which Severus had given him for his eyes; they were still red, the eyelids puffy. His head was resting in the crook of his elbow; his eyes staring blankly at the light blue patterning of the cup in his hand.

Harry closed his eyes as Severus ran his fingers lightly through his dark hair. "Do you feel better?" he asked quietly. Harry nodded against his arm, his eyes opening again and this time focusing on Severus; Severus smiled softly at him. "Perhaps a few sips of tea would help to ease your throat."

Harry lifted his head from his arm, but instead of drinking the tea, he stared into its milky depths. "I wanted to bring Sirius back," he finally whispered. Severus put his hand over Harry's, giving his son's wrist a gentle squeeze.

"I know."

Harry's eyes came up; round and surprised.

"Your thoughts were filled with anticipation whenever we spoke of your godfather today," Severus elaborated. "I realized you were likely intending to do some research into the subject when I came into your room, and you were pretending to sleep." He fingered James' cloak which was sitting in a heap of shimmery fabric in the middle of the table. "You were going to the restricted section of the library?"

To Severus' surprise, Harry dropped his head, face down, onto his arm. Harry mumbled something into his sleeve, and though Severus couldn't understand the words, he did feel both the guilt and the anxiety radiating in spades from his son; Harry was too exhausted to keep much of a hold on his shields.

Severus put his hand again on Harry's head, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly into Harry's scalp. "What was that?" he queried. Harry lifted his head a little, though he didn't turn to look at Severus.

Severus could hear him swallowing. "I..." Severus' hand slid down to Harry's neck, where he squeezed comfortingly. Harry finally turned to look at him, and when he spoke, it was so quietly that Severus had to bend his head close to Harry's in order to hear him.

"I was going to the Department of Mysteries..."

Severus' head snapped up, and without meaning to, he clamped his fingers around the back of Harry's neck. "You were-!" He released his hold abruptly, finally noticing that Harry was cringing. He stared at Harry as he pulled his hand away slowly, trying to process what Harry had just said. "You meant to..." His voice came out in a strangled hiss.

For the first time in almost as long as he could remember, Severus was without words. But he didn't need to finish speaking. The misery in Harry's face answered the questions Severus couldn't seem to ask. "How..." Severus trailed off, still unable to form a proper sentence.

"Dobby," Harry whispered thickly; he hunched his shoulders down so far that they were almost touching the tabletop. Severus shook his head, confused as to what a house-elf could possibly have to do with Harry attempting to retrieve Black-- Severus couldn't even finish the thought. And it seemed Harry couldn't continue with whatever he was trying to explain.

Severus cupped Harry's chin in his hand, turning his son's head so that Harry was looking him in the eye. Harry understood what Severus wanted, and didn't resist, seemed almost grateful that he wouldn't have to speak. Severus' flames surged into Harry's mind, and he was suddenly seeing everything that Harry had seen in the last forty-eight hours--feeling everything Harry had felt.

Horrible pain consumed Severus...grief and sadness swelled through Harry's storm, and then all of it was pushed away. Sirius' face was shoved below the darkest depths of Harry's mind. Harry pretending that it didn't hurt--that it didn't matter that his godfather had died a second time.

Plans...

Hermione's letter explaining what Harry intended to do--Severus' own name on the parchment, instead of Harry's. Desperate words to Ron...Dobby appearing in Harry's room, and once again... this time with a decrepit book in his hands.

An ancient rite--an incantation.

Motu Proprio...scrawled by Harry's own hand on the back of Hermione's letter.

Motu Proprio--of one's own initiative....

Severus' flames reacted violently, and before Severus was fully aware of what he had done, he had pulled his thoughts from Harry's and was towering over his son--his face livid.

Harry's eyes, fogged from the mental intrusion, cleared slowly, and as the anger coursed through Severus' veins, he pivoted abruptly away before his fury could be unleashed without his permission.

Severus' hands grasped the stone mantle as he tried to still his anxious breaths. Of one's own initiative. Death, by one's own hand. Harry would have chanted the ancient ritual of suicide.

"Dad..."

Severus closed his eyes at his son's tormented query. He forced his heart rate to still its frantic pace. Harry hadn't meant to choose that ritual...and he was safe...safe in Severus' own quarters, sitting at their table.

He was safe.

As if to convince himself, Severus turned slowly; his throat tightened as his eyes fell once more on his son. Harry's eyes were bright now, his eyebrows and lips puckered with worry. Severus took the two steps back to the table and slowly sagged, defeated, back into his chair. But it wasn't enough, and before Severus knew he needed it, Harry was back in his arms again.

Severus realized that Harry could likely feel his heart's rapid rhythm through his dressing gown. But if Harry was alarmed by it, he didn't let on; he simply returned the embrace, his head resting in exhaustion on Severus' shoulder.

And though Severus didn't want to cause his son any more distress, he could not allow Harry to believe that what he had been about to attempt could have been even remotely successful. Severus put his hands on Harry's shoulders and pulled him back a bit, though he kept his hands in place.

"There is no way to retrieve your godfather from the Veil," he began quietly, applying firm pressure against Harry's shoulders. "He is not there." Harry flinched at the blunt words. "We were only able to retrieve him once because he was whole when he fell through." Severus' throat tightened again as Harry fought to keep his face from crumpling. "I am sorry, Harry," he said in a voice deep with pain. "I know you loved him, but he cannot come back."

Harry let out a rickety breath. "I know," he said shakily. He dropped his head so that his cheek was resting against Severus' forearm; Severus twisted his arm so that his fingers were wound lightly through Harry's hair. "I didn't want to believe it," Harry said, the words vibrating against Severus' wrist.

"It is difficult to accept that death is permanent," Severus agreed.

Harry nodded against his arm. "I thought..." he swallowed noisily, "...I thought that he could just step through the Veil again and everything would be all right." He was quiet for a minute. "I wanted you and Sirius reconcile...everything," he finally admitted.

Guilt settled in Severus' chest. "He saved my life," he said, his voice rough with unbidden emotion. "He sacrificed himself for you. I will be forever grateful for that, Harry." The words were easier to say than he would have believed.

Harry lifted his head from Severus' arm. He was smiling, just a little. "He would have liked to hear that..." Harry's voice shook; Severus took his son's hands in his own.

"If I could tell him, I would," he assured Harry quietly. Harry nodded, his eyes shiny once more.

The small, weighty acknowledgement settled between them. And in the short silence that followed, Severus vanished the cold tea from Harry's cup and poured him fresh, adding milk and honey, just the way Harry liked it.

"Take a sip," he directed. "It has a calming agent in it."

Harry obediently lifted the delicate cup to his lips, and took several sips. He held the gently steaming cup just below his chin as he watched Severus pouring himself a fresh cup as well. After Severus had taken several sips of his own, and had allowed the warm liquid to begin to soothe his frayed nerves, he pinned his son with a serious look. Somehow, Harry sensed the change in mood; he sat up a little straighter.

"You're angry," he deduced quietly, casting his eyes down to his tea. Severus debated briefly whether to answer that query honestly.

"I was shocked to discover you had taken a spell from one of the books in the restricted section," Severus answered. Harry looked up, obviously sensing the evasion. "And angry, yes," Severus conceded. Harry bit his lip, but before he could apologize, Severus added softly, unable to completely banish the gruff anxiety from his voice, "That spell you copied from that old book is not the same spell Albus used when we retrieved your godfather from the Veil."

"It's not?" Harry asked in confusion. Severus pursed his lips as he shook his head.

"It is an ancient suicide rite."

Harry's red-rimmed eyes widened. "What? I..." he floundered, and then pushed himself up abruptly from his chair. "Stupid," he muttered finally, beginning to pace agitatedly in front of the sofa. "Hermione said it wouldn't work, and I didn't even care." He gave Severus a pained look as he came to an abrupt halt. "I didn't even try to make sure that spell was the right one...would it really have...?"

Severus nodded curtly; the thought of what Harry had almost done making him feel ill. He could have, perhaps, retrieved Harry from the Veil, as he had done Black, if he could have figured out where Harry had gone. But if Harry had used that spell...

Severus stood so quickly, his chair nearly toppled; he righted it with a shaky hand, and held his other hand out. "May I have the parchment?" he queried, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

Harry, paler now, withdrew the folded square of parchment from his pocket. His fingers were trembling as he passed it to Severus.

Severus unfolded it swiftly. The words leapt out at him, gouging him for a second time. Motu Proprio.

Severus crushed the parchment with one twist of his wrist. He sent it to the grate at the bottom of the fireplace, and with a wordless, wandless spell, the parchment went up in flames. Severus watched the fire blazing until the parchment was gone.

Severus turned back to Harry, his emotions equalized once more. Harry was sitting on the sofa, his hands hanging between his knees; his head bowed. Though Severus could only see a small part of Harry's face, he could tell his complexion was waxy; his color more gray than simply pale. Severus walked over to the sofa and sat carefully next to his son. Harry didn't look up as the cushions were disturbed.

"I almost killed myself," he said to the floor.

Severus decided it would be cruel to agree, so he simply pulled Harry's head back to his chest, trying to comfort him with that small gesture. Harry snuffled out a short sigh, but leant into the support without hesitation, both of them resting their backs against the cushions.

"You should ground me for the rest of my life," Harry said softly, not sounding put-out by the idea. "Keep me from doing anything stupid," he muttered.

"You didn't go through with your plan," Severus reminded him, carding his fingers lightly through Harry's hair, and realizing as he did that he was still trying to reassure himself that Harry was safe. And whole.

"I didn't have a plan," Harry said, sounding mildly disgusted with himself now.

"You stopped yourself before you did anything foolish," Severus said, in an attempt to ease the self-deprecation he could feel looming in his son's mind. Though foolish was hardly an appropriate word for what Harry had almost done. Harry didn't respond right away, and Severus allowed him his stretch of silence.

"Only because I knew you would be upset," he finally said, sounding stuffy again.

"Upset," Severus repeated thinly, "hardly begins to describe the state my emotions would have been in, had I found you gone."

"I know," Harry answered, and Severus thought he was trying to discreetly swipe at his nose with his sleeve. "I knew it was a stupid thing to do, and I...didn't want to disappoint you again."

Inaccurate though the word disappoint was as well, Severus understood, and despite the atmosphere, and the dull ache of pain he could still feel radiating from Harry, Severus was warmed by the words. And even though Harry had not aborted his plan on its sheer folly, at least he had reconsidered simply because he knew that his father would have wanted it that way.

It was progress.

Despite the fact that Harry could not see his face, Severus smiled and brushed Harry's fringe away from his eyes. "And you have not," he assured him warmly. Harry lifted his head, and somewhere, in those deep green eyes, so filled with sadness, warmth echoed back at him.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Harry shifted a little so that he was sitting upright, shrugging a little as Severus attempted to figure out what Harry was thanking him for. "For lots of things," Harry added, obviously guessing the reason for Severus' puckered brow.

"Hmm," Severus mused, "perhaps for not locking up James' cloak for the duration of your time at Hogwarts?" he suggested, his eyebrow quirking. Not that Severus really had any such notion, but surely a bit of a warning would not go amiss.

"Er, yeah...right," Harry said, recovered enough to look sheepish at the light admonishment.

"However, since my trust is important to you, I believe you will wish to use the cloak in a responsible manner in future," Severus said, though he did grace his son with a bit of a hard look, just for good measure. Harry nodded immediately. "And," Severus continued, since Harry was not protesting, "I think you realize that using a house-elf to access the restricted section is inappropriate as well?"

Harry cringed at that. "Yeah..." He glanced down at his fingers as they absently picked at the hem of his right sleeve. "I mean it sounds completely mental now...all of it." He shook his head, suddenly dropping his wrist and resting his forearms on his knees. He turned his face up to Severus. "But it didn't seem that way earlier...it was perfectly reasonable..." His face twisted; obviously struggling again not to cry.

"Do not try to fight your grief," Severus advised, settling his hand once more on the top of Harry's head. Harry's lower lip began to quiver a little; a few tears slipped past his cheeks. He didn't swipe at them.

"Why did he have to die?" he asked, his voice small and miserable as he stared at Severus.

"I do not know," Severus answered regretfully. Why did anyone have to die? Too many, now, to count.

"But I only just got him back..."

"I know," Severus answered softly, not knowing what he could possibly say to ease Harry's pain.

"And most of the time, we were at odds...if I had known-" Harry's breath hitched, and his shoulders began to shake. Severus bent to retrieve his son, wrapping his arms around him as he cried. The tears were largely silent, just as they had been when Severus had first come in, but this time Harry's tremors were much less violent.

"You could not have known."

Severus said no more, allowing Harry to cry out the grief of the unpleasant memories, wishing as he sat there with Harry beside him, that he, himself, had made a better effort with Black.

Wishing that he had not spent so much time dwelling on a past that could not be changed, and had instead accepted Black's place in his son's life. But as he had just told Harry, neither of them could have known what was to come. There was no point to these recriminations--neither for himself, nor for Harry.

Harry's tremors were beginning to ease, and Harry was sniffling quietly. Severus quietly called for a handkerchief from his bedroom, and handed it to his son; Harry mopped up his tears quickly.

"What do you remember best about your godfather?" Severus asked as Harry scrunched the handkerchief into a tight ball in his fist, hoping to move Harry towards healing.

Harry straightened up creakily. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked even more exhausted than he had earlier. His shoulder rested heavily against Severus' as he thought about his answer. His mouth finally transformed into a soft smile.

"Flying with Buckbeak." He stretched his legs out, settling more comfortably as he added, "He was really happy then, and I remember thinking that he enjoyed flying, just like I did."

"And a few times," Harry went on, in a voice which was trying to break through the clog of too many tears, "during the summer last year and during the Christmas hols, he and Remus and I would sit and chat in Sirius' room...they'd tell me stories about mum and James, or they'd ask me questions and just let me talk about nothing, really..." He glanced at Severus. "Like we do," he said, his smile widening just a little.

Severus returned the smile, enjoying the thought that he provided Harry with something that Harry had enjoyed with Black--had been providing it all along, in fact.

"He and Remus gave me a set of defense books that Christmas," Harry said, as if just remembering. "Since we were running the D.A..." Harry's forehead creased with thought; he turned his head toward the Floo. "Do you think Remus is doing all right?" He frowned. "I really shouldn't have been so prickly with him yesterday..."

"Albus told me he was faring better, yes," Severus answered. "He would most likely enjoy a visit from you, whenever you wish to see him," he added, remembering Albus' words about Lupin needing comfort beyond Tonks. Harry would be a much better choice than he, himself, would be, no matter what Albus had suggested. And Harry would benefit from a visit as well.

Harry sighed.

"We could take a walk to his quarters, if you wish," Severus suggested, sensing that a full session of reminiscing would be extremely helpful to Harry.

Harry's eyes strayed to the clock on the mantel. "It's only ten-thirty? I thought it was well past midnight when I came out here..."

Severus made no comment on Harry's haste to get to the Department of Mysteries, or the fact that he had so obviously misjudged the time in his hurry.

"You don't think it's too late?" Harry asked, though he was already shifting toward standing. Severus shook his head, and it seemed that was all the encouragement Harry needed. Severus was heartened to see enthusiasm from him. He stood as well, though he eyed Harry's pajamas.

"Would you like to get dressed?" Severus inquired with amusement.

"I'll get a sweatshirt," Harry said with a shrug, and then gave Severus a pointed look, a small smirk adorning his otherwise somber features. "You might want to change though."

Severus glanced down at himself, momentarily surprised to find himself in a dressing gown and bare feet. But that was easily fixed. Severus simply pulled his wand from his sleeve and in an instant he was neatly dressed, including appropriate footwear.

"Would you do me, as well?" Harry asked, tugging on the front of his pajama shirt. Severus smiled quietly and complied, transfiguring it into a heavy sweatshirt. "Thanks."

Severus nodded; together, they left their quarters and at a leisurely pace, began to climb their way to the main floor of the castle.

--

Harry glanced over at his father as they walked through Hogwarts' main halls, with Severus' Lumos bobbing along in front of them. It was very odd--he wasn't quite sure how to describe it--the way he was feeling now. Like he'd come out of some sort of fog. It wasn't a pleasant feeling though, not at all. There was a heavy ache in his chest, but the rest of his limbs felt lighter than they had in days. And he felt like he could breathe again.

Harry could also see with mortifying clarity just how off he'd been in the past few days--how daft he'd been. He had no idea how he could have thought that he could simply step through the Veil and bring Sirius back, nice as you please. And he'd written a letter to Hermione, actually asking her for help! He really couldn't blame her for writing to his father.

As Harry re-read her anxious letter in his mind, he remembered that there had been more in Hermione's letter than just worry over him. He was mildly hesitant to bring up the post again--both because of the spell he'd written on the back of it, and because he'd stolen the letter in the first place; he shivered slightly at the thought of the spell he'd taken from that old book.

"In her letter," Harry began, and was relieved as his father turned his eyes to him, without a trace of reproach in their black depths, "Hermione asked if there was a way she could come for...Sirius' funeral."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "I am certain Albus could secure an international Portkey for her...Hermione's parents, as well, if they wish to accompany her."

Harry smiled, not because his father had said there would be a way for Hermione to come, but because his father had actually called his friend by her first name...he realized a moment later, that he had referred to Ron by his first name as well, at the Weasleys. It had certainly taken him long enough!

And though his father hadn't commented that Harry had mentioned a funeral for Sirius, Harry knew his dad was relieved. Harry was relieved in a way, as well. Having a funeral for Sirius seemed right now.

"I didn't realize Muggles could travel by Portkey," he said as they rounded the corner that would bring them to Remus' door.

"Since it is the object which is charmed, it is possible," Severus answered. "Muggles would not be able to travel by Floo, however, unless they were accompanied by a magical being."

Harry nodded at the mini-lesson as they came to a stop in front of the portrait guarding Remus' door. The painting of the wolf, and the full moon was gone, replaced by one of a rather ugly little man, who peered out at them suspiciously from where he was lying on a very uncomfortable looking patch of grass.

"What do you want?" he barked, squinting against Severus' bright Lumos. "It's the middle of the night!"

Severus glowered at the tiny wizard. "Absentis," he snapped. The ugly wizard scowled, but with loud grumbles under his breath, he swung forward. Severus tapped the door handle, and less than a moment later, the door opened. Remus, fully dressed, though with dark circles under his eyes, smiled instantly.

"I trust it is not too late for a visit?" Severus inquired, very politely, Harry thought. Remus shook his head.

"Of course not," he answered, his voice warm despite the clear sadness in his brown eyes. "Please, come in," he invited, stepping back to allow them entrance. Severus gestured Harry forward. Remus closed the door after Severus, and turned his smile back on them. "How are you, Harry?" he asked, the worry overtaking the warmth of his smile.

Harry tried to smile, but seeing Remus, looking so obviously exhausted, even through his welcome, made the effort seem too great. He could feel tears prickling his eyes as he realized how much Remus would miss Sirius--and as he remembered the way Sirius and Remus used to laugh together, every time they spoke of James. Or the way Sirius would grin in that impish way he had, and Remus would smile softly, in subtle amusement or mild exasperation--whichever fit the situation at the moment.

"I..." Whatever Harry wanted to say--and he wasn't even certain himself--got stuck on his tongue. Remus seemed to understand though; his own eyes were shining, and he stepped forward without a word, and wrapped Harry in his arms.

They stood together for quite a long time, as far as Harry could tell, neither of them crying, but still finding comfort in the shared embrace. And when Harry finally pulled back, he could see that some of the exhaustion had left Remus' face.

Harry turned at the sound of glass clinking; Tonks was just handing Severus a small cut-glass tumbler half-full of a dark rose liquid, which he accepted with a small nod. Remus stepped toward Tonks, accepting a glass from her as well.

To Severus, Remus said in a quiet voice, "I apologize for my...emotional display yesterday. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

Severus shook his head slightly. "There is no need to apologize," he returned easily. He glanced at Harry, a small smile curving his lips, and then back at Remus, giving him--well, not a smile, but close. Remus smiled back at him.

Tonks was smiling as well, looking between all of them. Harry allowed her to hug him briefly as well as he stepped to the table. She had already prepared a huge mug of dark cocoa. She glanced at Severus, her hand on the squat bottle of what was obviously alcohol. At his nod, Tonks poured a splash of the liquor into Harry's mug. He took it, grateful for the warmth it brought to his hands.

The quartet stood in a loose circle, and after a moment, Remus cleared his throat. He lifted his glass into the empty space between them.

"To Sirius," Remus said, his voice thick.

Tonks raised her arm, followed by Severus, and then Harry.

"To Sirius," three voices echoed together. Tears stung Harry eyes as all three tumblers, and Harry's mug, clinked together. Harry caught his father's eyes as he brought the mug to his lips. The warm black eyes kept the tears at bay.

Harry smiled as he watched Tonks wrap an arm around Remus' waist and pull him close; Harry took a step toward his father. The tiny splash of alcohol burned down his throat as his dad put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close to his side.

The ache in Harry's chest had not gone away, but it had lessened just a tiny bit. He could see Sirius' face, grinning out at him, and this time, he didn't try to banish the image away. He smiled as he remembered why Sirius had been laughing that time.

He glanced at Remus, who was watching him with his own smile, and decided that Tonks would enjoy hearing the story Sirius had told him that day last summer, knowing that Sirius would have enjoyed Tonks' likely reaction.

"Did Remus ever tell you about the time he served a week's worth of detentions because of a letter he wrote to a professor?" Harry asked. Remus immediately groaned.

"I did not write that letter!" he objected.

"What sort of letter would mean so many detentions?" Tonks asked curiously, as she drifted over to the sofa.

"A letter professing his love," Harry answered as he sat in one of the chairs; Severus sat down in another. Tonks' brown eyebrows shot up.

"You had a crush on a professor?" she asked with a mystified smirk. "Who?"

Remus scowled at Harry as he sat down near Tonks. "I did not," he disagreed, just as Harry answered, "McGonagall."

"Minerva?" Severus echoed, his own eyebrows surging upward.

"McGonagall?!"

Remus' cheeks were flushing faintly, but he gave his best glare to Harry, who simply gazed back innocently as he sipped his cocoa, while Remus attempted to explain.

Yes, Harry decided with a melancholy tug at his heart, Sirius definitely would have enjoyed this

1996

Severus held up the black jumper, doing his best not to grimace at the garish silver S on the front.

“That was very clever, Molly dear,” Arthur said with a fond look, “to make the S look like a serpent.”

Molly flushed at her husband’s praise, though she was still looking expectantly at Severus.

“Indeed,” Severus agreed. Molly beamed at him, completely missing his dry tone.

“Well? Put it on, Severus,” she said happily, making excited motions with her hands. “Don’t be shy.”

Harry, Remus, and Tonks all looked like they were trying not to smile. Since the rest of the Weasleys were all watching him expectantly, Severus slid it carefully over his head; it fit remarkably well. There were pressed lips all around the room, and he was almost certain one of the twins snorted. Mrs. Weasley however, looked delighted as she turned to Harry.

“Go ahead and open yours, dear,” she encouraged with a motherly nod. Harry smiled at her and did as she asked, though he had to untwine his fingers from Ginny’s in order to do so.

His lips twitched as soon as he had the package open. “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” he said quickly, and before Molly could answer, he was pulling another black jumper over his head—this one with a silver H.

Harry’s eyes met Severus’, and even Severus was hard-pressed not to smile that time; it was a bit like looking in a mirror.

“Harry’s not a Slytherin, mum,” Ron complained, making a face from where he sat on the floor beside the tree.

“Hush, Ron,” Molly chided, flapping her fingers at her youngest son. And then she twisted slightly toward Bill, who was standing with an arm looped around Fleur Delacour. “Fetch the camera, would you Bill?”

But the twins beat him to it, all but shoving Bill and his lady friend out of the way in their mad dash toward the kitchen. They returned, stumbling over one another in their effort to pass the camera to their mother, who was glaring by the time she had it in her hands.

“Really, boys!” she chided the snickering pair as she pushed her rumpled hair out of her face and stood up. But by the time she turned back to Severus and Harry, she was smiling once more. She gestured them closer together with her free hand, tilting her head and squinting.

“Sorry,” Ginny whispered to Harry, though she was smiling as Harry slid closer to Severus.

“Say Skiving Snackboxes!” Fred called out; George chortled.

“Smile,” Molly coaxed, ignoring the twins. She frowned slightly when Severus simply relaxed his jaw.

“Better just take it, mum,” Severus could hear George saying in his mother’s ear. “I think that’s as much of a smile as you’re ever going to get out of Professor Snape.”

Severus had to force his muscles to remain relaxed as Molly’s eyes brightened in brief amusement. She finally snapped several photos of Harry and him on the sofa, before encouraging both Ginny and Ron into the frame—with Severus and Ron sitting rather stiffly beside one another—and then ushering Severus and Ron off the sofa so that she could take several more of Harry and Ginny alone.

“Mum, I think that’s plenty,” Ginny assured her mother firmly after a dozen clicks of the camera.

“Thank you,” Harry said politely, which made Molly beam again.

Harry and Ginny began to stand, but Molly immediately shook her head, and then began organizing the entire Weasley clan, and their five guests, on and around the gargantuan sofa with groans of protests from her children.

Once everyone was posed just the way Molly wanted them, she waved her wand toward the camera, with a few muttered instructions, before settling in beside Arthur in the middle of the sofa. The camera flashed several times.

“Free for all!” Bill yelled suddenly, startling Remus and Tonks, and both the Snapes.

“He means, we’re finished with the formal poses,” Ginny told the bewildered guests with a grin.

Severus kept his irritation and slight discomfiture carefully shielded, since Harry seemed to be quite enjoying the family bustle. He watched his son as he made a face for the camera, his fingers once more tangled with Ginny’s. Ron put his hands around Harry’s neck after that; Harry pretending he couldn’t breathe, his tongue lolling out.

The camera had long since stopped whirring, and the room was reasonably under control again, with the large group splitting off into smaller conversations, when a loud knock was heard at the back door.

“Must be Hermione!” Ron said with a grin, and in much the same way his elder brothers had, he dashed out of the room.

Harry, with a fleeting smile for Severus, took Ginny’s hand and followed his friend. Molly, with Tonks and a rather reluctant Miss Delacour in tow, hurried after them. Severus, though he was doing his best to blend into the room’s eclectic furniture, was drawn into the circle of Weasley men and Remus—almost as if he belonged there.

--

“You’ll suffocate him, Hermione,” Ron told his girlfriend with a grin as she attempted to squeeze the air out of Harry’s lungs. Hermione kissed Harry’s cheek soundly before finally letting him go. She searched his eyes, and Harry knew she was still unsure if Harry really had understood why she’d written that letter to his father, even though Harry had already assured Hermione that he had, after Sirius’ funeral.

Harry smiled at her, hoping she’d let the subject lie now, since he hadn’t any plans to mention what he’d almost done, to either Ron or Ginny.

“Please do come in,” Mrs. Weasley was saying to Hermione’s parents. Harry and his friends drifted toward the stairs as she began introductions.

“How are you, Harry?” Hermione asked, obviously not prepared to allow the subject to drop completely.

“Better,” Harry answered honestly as they trekked upwards. None of them had had much of a chance to speak at Sirius’ funeral, and truthfully, Harry hadn’t felt much like talking. Ginny squeezed his hand, as if she understood what he’d been thinking. Harry smiled a little at her, just as grateful for her now as he had been two days ago.

He’d spent a long time, standing next to Sirius’ coffin—just staring.

Ginny had held him tightly when he’d finally turned away, silently letting him pull his emotions back under control—stroking his hair gently as he sniffed out a few more tears. She’d released him just as Remus was saying his final farewell, and just in time to be pulled into his friend’s arms.

And this time, Remus had cried, the tears coursing down his cheeks, unchecked as he’d held Harry. Harry’s chest tightened as his mind wandered over the memory of Remus holding him so tightly…

“I loved him,” Remus finally whispered, his arms tightening as if the words were painful.

“I know,” Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

Remus gripped his arms then, and pulled Harry a little away from him. And Harry saw the pain there in Remus’ eyes, so raw and deep—and unexpected, in a way he couldn’t have explained. And somehow, Harry’s eyes found his eyes straying to Tonks, who was standing just behind Remus. There was pain her eyes as well—and hope.

Harry looked back to Remus, who had followed Harry’s gaze.

“I love her as well,” he said softly, nodding his head a little in answer to Harry’s silent question. He stared at Harry, while Harry glanced once more at Tonks, and then back again to Remus.

Harry smiled a little, which removed any of the anxiety he thought he could trace on his friend’s face. Remus squeezed his shoulders before he stepped back.

“Harry?”

Harry shook his head slowly, pulling himself out of his thoughts to find himself sitting on Ginny’s bed, with Ginny staring up at him. He smiled down at her.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly. He nodded, and pulled her to him. He breathed deeply, letting the scent of her flowery shampoo fill his nostrils.

“Just thinking about Remus…”

“He seems to be doing all right, now,” Ginny reassured him. Harry pulled her even closer.

“Yeah… I just hope he and Tonks will be all right. I can’t imagine how it would feel…” Harry shook his head, not wanting to finish that sentence.

Ginny turned her face up to his, and Harry kissed her, needing just to be near her. To feel that he was alive, and that things were the same, even without Sirius. That life would go on as it always had.

And with Ginny in his arms, he found he couldn’t not tell her what he’d almost done. Ginny looked up at him with question marks in her dark brown eyes as Harry pulled his head away. Harry took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t be angry, and explained everything.

As soon as he finished, he stared at her, and after a silent, shocked moment, Ginny flung her arms around his neck, holding him tighter even than Hermione had downstairs, and unlike Hermione’s, Ginny’s arms were quaking slightly.

“It’s okay, Gin,” he told her softly as he ran his hands slowly up and down her back. “I’m okay now.”

Ginny pulled her head back a little so that she was gazing into his eyes, and Harry wondered if Ginny would ever decide he was simply too mental and go find someone who didn’t have a near-death experience every other month. He must have looked glum at the thought, since Ginny chose that moment to take his face in her hands and kiss him soundly.

“I should smack you instead, you know,” she murmured, even as she continued to kiss him.

And all of sudden, Harry wanted to laugh as her lips pressed against his. And not that odd, manic laughter he had felt bubbling up on the surface in the few days after Sirius had died.

“It’s Christmas,” he reminded her, giving in to his urge and quietly chuckling, and was surprised that he didn’t feel guilty about the happiness which momentarily overshadowed his thoughts of Sirius.

“True…”

Harry had no idea how long they stayed there, kissing, but he forced himself to stay upright—and his hands still on Ginny’s hips; there was no telling how long it would be until somebody would burst in. He finally pulled back. Ginny smiled at him as she brushed her hair away from her flushed cheeks.

“I got you a present,” she told him, sounding very excited about it. Harry leaned one of his palms against the bed, smiling a little as he watched her rifling through the top drawer of her bureau. She finally straightened up and came back to the bed with a flat, rectangular package.

“It’s not a book,” she told him, wrinkling her nose. “Hermione took care of that already.”

Harry peeled the gold wrapping off carefully, not wanting to muck up any of the etiquette he assumed went along with opening presents from your girlfriend. As the crinkly wrap fell away, Harry couldn’t help smiling.

“I know it’s sort of redundant after my mum took pictures…”

Harry looked up quickly. “I love it, Gin,” he said sincerely. He kissed her lightly, just once, before turning back to the photograph. “How did you manage it?” he marveled. Harry watched himself in the picture, grinning at his father, who was gazing back at him, his familiar, and mostly elusive, half-smile curving his lips.

“Ron took it, actually,” Ginny said, curling her legs up close to Harry’s on the bed. “It’s from him as well. He took it one day when you stayed after Potions, and he and Hermione were waiting for you. I gave him a camera months ago and told him to make sure your dad was smiling.”

“Took him months, eh?” Harry asked, shaking his head in amusement as he watched his father smiling. When he looked up again, Ginny was watching him, a soft smile on her lips. Harry set the photo carefully on the bed. “Do you want yours?” he asked, as if he was genuinely curious. Ginny sat up a little straighter, her brown eyes sparkling as she nodded eagerly.

As Harry dug his fingers into his pocket, he said apologetically, “It’s nothing as nice as the photo, but I thought you’d like it.” He wished now that he had chosen something a bit more personal. And hoped Ginny wouldn’t think the gift stupid.

“I will,” she told him, sounding mightily confident of it. She unwrapped the small box swiftly, obviously not worrying about tearing the green foil. “Ohh…” she breathed as she lifted the lid, and the nervous butterflies in Harry’s stomach stilled. Ginny looked up at him, her smile full of excitement. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Harry couldn’t help but ask, startled that he’d gotten it right.

“Perfect,” she said softly. She lifted the silver chain from the box and fastened it with ease around her neck. She fingered the tiny, delicate Snitch—suspended by the thin chain—now nestled in the hollow of her neck that so fascinated Harry.

Harry lifted the tiny snitch, letting his fingers linger against her collarbone. “Hermione told me a Snitch wasn’t very romantic,” he said, glancing up to find Ginny watching him.

“That’s because Hermione doesn’t like Quidditch.”

“Ron thought it was brilliant,” Harry said, which made Ginny laugh. “So did my dad, actually. He and Remus helped me find it on that last day of our holiday.” He brushed a few strands of hair from her shoulder. “They have a brilliant wizarding street in Paris…it’s smaller than Diagon Alley though.”

“You went shopping for jewelry with your dad and Remus?” Ginny’s lips were twitching at that. Harry shrugged.

“It was the first time chance I had to go anywhere since the summer. And anyway,” he added with a smile for the memory, “it was funny to watch my dad and Remus argue over what you would like best.”

“Did they really?” Ginny laughed as she twisted a little so that she could rest her back against Harry’s chest. Harry pulled her close with one arm, while his fingers kept tracing over the linked chain.

“Not actually arguing, I suppose,” he said, feeling rather lazy with Ginny in his arms. He leaned back against her headboard, and closed his eyes, letting the happy memories mingle with the present.

“How about a rose, Harry? It’s quite lovely.”

Harry peered over Remus’ shoulder. The gold necklace, with its blossoming rose was pretty. Harry pursed his lips. He wasn’t sure it was quite right for Ginny though.

“Perhaps something less…frilly,” Severus interjected from behind them. Harry twisted round; his father raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You agree, no?” Harry grinned.

“I would hardly call it frilly, Severus,” Remus objected.

“It is quite suitable for a young lady of fifteen,” the tall, overly proper shopkeeper interjected, leaning forward over the glass countertop.

Severus eyed him disdainfully, before returning his attention to Harry. “Anything that evokes a meaningful emotion from her would be appropriate.”

Harry’s face scrunched up as he thought about that. “Something she likes, you mean?”

“Or something that will remind her of you,” Remus elaborated, to which Severus pursed his lips. “Too sentimental?” Remus asked, with a smiling glance for Harry. Severus didn’t answer; instead, turning back to the shopkeeper.

“How much time will you require to create an original design?” he inquired. The shopkeeper smiled widely.

“The intricacy of the design will certainly be a factor,” he said, looking a bit like galleons were obscuring his vision.

“It’s just a Christmas gift,” Harry said quickly. “It doesn’t have to be fancy, or-”

The shopkeeper glared at him and re-focused on Severus. “What are we hoping to create?” he asked sweetly.

“I really do think Ginny would like the rose,” Remus said, coming to stand beside Severus. “Or even a simple heart…”

“She is not his primary school girlfriend,” Severus interrupted, with a scathing undertone. “Harry wishes to give her something meaningful.”

“It’s his first present to her, Severus,” Remus said quietly. “It will be meaningful.”

“Anyone could give Ginny a rose or a heart, Lupin. Harry does not want to give her something so ordinary.”

“Ordinary?!”

Harry shook his head as he drifted away from the conversation, though he did briefly wonder, from his friend’s offended tone, if Remus had chosen something with a heart for Tonks—or maybe a rose…

He stopped in front of the shop’s display window, gazing across the cobbled street at the Quidditch supply store, his eyes wandering over the winged Snitches decorating the window. He grinned.

A Snitch…

“We should ask Tonks what Remus gave her.”

Ginny had turned her face up to his while Harry had talked. Her fingers walked across his jaw; he bent down and kissed her.

“Did they stop arguing when you suggested a Snitch?” Ginny asked when Harry pulled his lips back. Harry lifted the snitch with the back of his fingers.

“As soon as I said it, my dad ordered the shopkeeper to begin immediately. My dad was rather pleased with himself, I think, since he was the one who suggested something original.”

“Hmm…” Ginny mused, glancing down at the Snitch. “You’d better not let Witch Weekly hear about this, or every witch in Britain will want one.”

“Want one what?”

Harry and Ginny swiveled their heads toward the door. Ron’s head was poking around the open door.

“Knock much?” Ginny grumbled. Ron stuck out his tongue and pushed the door open. Hermione smiled brightly at them.

“You’re lucky I didn’t tell mum you two were in here alone,” Ron retorted, plopping himself on Ginny’s desk chair; Hermione took the padded rocking chair. Ginny sat up a little.

“You and Hermione were just as alone,” Harry pointed out before Ginny had a chance. Ginny resettled herself against Harry’s chest; Harry was certain she was smiling.

Ron shrugged, looking sheepish. Hermione simply smiled and straightened her skirt as she settled in the chair. Her gaze though, had zeroed in on Ginny’s necklace.

“You liked it,” she guessed.

“I told him you would,” Ron told his sister smugly. “Hermione didn’t think you would.”

“Oh, hush, Ron,” Hermione said, waving her hand impatiently at him. She pulled a package from her robes and handed it to Harry. He opened it quickly.

“I thought it would help you with those potions you and Professor Snape are working on…” Her face fell as Harry’s fingers tightened along the book’s leather spine. “Did something happen while you were working together?” she asked tentatively. Ginny twisted around.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. Harry shook his head.

“Nothing,” he assured them, as he let the ache spread through his chest a little. “My dad and I were brewing a special potion for Sirius right before…he died.” Harry smiled a little at Hermione. “It’s all right, Hermione. It’s a great book. Thanks.”

“Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you-”

“It’s all right,” Harry said again. “I promise,” he stressed. He let Ginny’s hand curl around his. “It’s good to remember him…it helps to make it less painful.”

He wasn’t sure he could explain what he meant, so he told them about his Christmas with his dad earlier that morning instead. About how he had watched anxiously, as his father slipped the last of the wrapping paper off the small box…

The paper fluttered gracefully to the floor. While butterflies stewed in the pit of his stomach, Severus lifted the lid. His silence sent Harry’s butterflies into a flurry.

“I know it isn’t traditional,” Harry said quickly. “Ron told me that pureblood wizarding fathers usually give one to their sons on their eighteenth birthdays and I know you don’t have one…”

“That is one tradition my father did not adhere to,” Severus said softly. He had lifted the watch gently from its soft bed; it was sweeping slowly back and forth from its shiny gold chain. “It is lovely,” he said, his eyes following it as it moved.

Harry clasped his palms together. “The shopkeeper said they don’t engrave watches…er, Muggles do, but he thought it was rather odd when I asked him…so I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Severus closed his fingers around the watch, as he glanced up. There was a small smile on his lips. “Thank you, Harry,” he said gruffly.

Harry grinned. Ginny had told him right away that his father would like it, and if the way he was tucking it carefully into his waistcoat pocket—patting the full pocket twice—was any indication…

“I do hope you will be as pleased with your gift,” Severus said, and then with a wave of his wand, a considerably larger box appeared in front of Harry—one that had not been included with the pile under the tree. “I did not wish you to peek,” Severus explained seriously. Harry chuckled.

“Good thinking,” he agreed. Noting that his dad’s hands were clasped in a fashion that was eerily similar to the way Harry’s had just been, he made quick work of unwrapping the gift. He lifted the lid and stared at the huge stone Pensieve. Confused, he looked up at Severus.

“A memory?” Hermione interrupted Harry’s story. “Of…”

“Sirius, yeah,” Harry answered, bobbing his head quickly. It was easier to say his name now, at least. “Sirius was getting me ready for bed.” He shrugged at his friends’ looks of confusion. “My dad didn’t trust him to be alone with me. He was hiding under James’ invisibility cloak,” he explained. “It was when I was just a baby…”

“…down will come baby, cradle and all…” Sirius’ grey eyes crinkled as he gazed down at little Harry.

“I know, Harry,” he said soothingly, “I don’t know why your mum sings that to you. It’s a bit…well, morbid.”

He grinned as Harry gurgled back at him.

“Your mum’s great Harry, but she was raised by Muggles, you know. And I think whoever wrote that song was a bit touched in the head.”

Standing next to his father, sixteen year-old Harry watched his godfather caressing his younger self’s palm with a gentle finger.

Sirius laughed in delight as Harry’s fist curled around his finger. “Tasty, is it?” he asked, still chuckling as baby Harry began gnawing at the tip of his finger. “Parents don’t feed you enough, eh?”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Sirius said as the small green eyes gazed back at him earnestly. “When you start clearing out your mum and dad’s kitchen, you come to your old godfather. I’ll give you whatever you want.” He winked. “I’ve got loads of sweets.”

His tiny godson began chomping in earnest. Sirius laughed and bent his head to kiss Harry’s forehead. “You’ll have to wait, old boy. Your mum’ll be up in minute, I promise.”