Severus awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and on a more even keel than the previous night. It was rare for him to indulge in a nightcap, normally he avoided strong drink like the plague, having no wish to end up like his drunken bum of a father. Realistically, Severus knew there was a better than even chance for him to become an alcoholic, since his father had been one, and studies had shown that the children of alcoholics most likely had inherited the disease as well. Thus Severus stayed away from alcohol, except on very rare occasions. Last night had been one such time, for he hadn't known how to deal with the myriad of emotions that had assaulted him-fierce longing to comfort his son, fear that he would be rejected by the boy, and guilt that he didn't know how to be a parent anymore than a bird does how to swim.

He was making an attempt to get to know Harry, but he was still awkward and uncertain around the boy, and afraid of making mistakes that he couldn't rectify. Perhaps I ought to have gone and talked to him last night. Perhaps he wouldn't have turned away from me, but let me offer what poor comfort I could. Obviously, he was upset about something we discussed, probably something to do with his mother. He may be ready to talk about it now, since he's gotten the worst of the emotional upheaval out of his system, the Potions Master thought.

He decided to go into the kitchen and start some breakfast. Perhaps he could coax Harry into a conversation and see if he might help ease the boy's mind. He wished he'd been less abrasive during school to Harry, then perhaps his son would be more willing to open up to him now. Then again, maybe not, for Severus himself did not trust many and bared his soul to very few, and one of those was dead these past twelve and a half years. He had learned to be closemouthed as a spy, when one slip would mean his death. And even so, he had grown careless and had nearly paid the ultimate price for it. Yet, in a way, he was glad his days as a secret agent were done. He was sick of shadows and blood, sick of watching and never acting, of pretending to be one with people who were coldblooded murderers and rapists and bloated with evil. It was time for the serpent to shed his skin, and be reborn anew.

Filled with a new resolve, Severus left his room and headed down the hall to the kitchen in the east wing. He paused before Harry's door, but upon hearing no sound within, assumed his son was still sleeping, and continued on his way. Time enough to wake the boy later.

Only to discover Harry snoozing upon the couch in the den. Severus halted, trying to figure out why Harry had fallen asleep here instead of in his bed, which was where he'd left his son last night. "Harry?" He bent to shake his son by the shoulder, and caught the unmistakable whiff of spirits upon Harry's breath.

I must be dreaming. My son is passed out dead drunk on my living room couch.

The proof was right in front of him, yet Snape's brain refused to comprehend it at first. Until he saw the empty bottle of summerdew sitting on the end table and the tumbler he'd used last night next to it. Oh, Merlin, no! Harry, you stupid reckless idiotic little fool! He was abruptly furious, so angry it was all he could do to keep from dragging the child off the couch and shaking him so hard his teeth rattled. Didn't the boy know better than to sample unknown substances? Or was this an indication of an addictive personality? Damn it to hell, but I will not be raising my father! I have enough to deal with right now without adding a teenage alcoholic to the list.

He thought about Ennervating the fourteen-year-old with a spell, but wasn't sure how the spell would react with the summerdew already in Harry's system. Summerdew was a fae cordial, processed by fae magic and methods, there was no telling how it would react to a human wizard's magic. So the best recourse was to let his son sleep it off and wake on his own. Snape did not envy Harry the hangover he would have once he woke up. It was sure to be a memorable one. As would the lecture Severus had in store for him.

Snape ground his teeth together. Just when they had been getting along tolerably, the damn boy had to go and pull something like this! It boggled the mind, though Severus wondered if this had anything to do with teenage rebelliousness. This was when it started.

He'd seen it countless times with his Slytherins and other students, but he'd be damned if his own son was going to drive him crazy and not pay the price for it. He turned on his heel and started for the alcove entrance to the kitchen when he heard a low groan from behind him. Ah, so the rebel without a cause had rejoined the land of the living, Severus thought scathingly.

He glanced back and saw Harry sitting up on the couch, holding his head in one hand, as if to keep it where it belonged upon his shoulders. "Oooh Merlin! What's wrong with me? My head . . .feels like it's about to fall off."

Severus spun about and stalked back over to the couch, his ire sparking. "You are suffering from the aftereffects of indulging in too much alcohol, young man. It's more commonly known as a hangover."

Harry squinted up at Snape, his head felt like someone was rearranging the inside of it with a hook and a mallet at the same time. He had never felt so ill in his life. His stomach was churning and bubbling like a geyser on the verge of exploding, and he exhaled slowly, trying to keep from vomiting. Don't think about it, Harry! Don't think about it, he ordered himself, gulping sharply.

Severus was glaring at him with a look he hadn't seen on the other man's face since second year when the firework had exploded in his class. It was a look that sent chills down Harry's spine, for unlike last time, there was no way he could lie his way out of his predicament, no way to avoid Severus's wrath, since he was guilty as a two-year-old caught snitching sweets from the biscuit jar.

"Sir? I-I can explain . . ."

That was as far as he got before his stomach leaped up into his throat.

He would've thrown up all over the floor and Severus had not the other wizard summoned a bucket in the nick of time.

Harry bent over, heaving uncontrollably, and Severus watched dispassionately as the boy threw up everything in his stomach for a good ten minutes.

Twice Harry attempted to draw away, thinking the nausea was over, but then his stomach would revolt and he would end up over the bucket again. Once he was certain he felt a hand on the back of his neck but when at last he stopped vomiting he saw his father standing in front of him, arms crossed, still wearing that forbidding expression.

A glass of water floated before him. Harry reached out and drank some, washing out the awful taste in his mouth. He felt slightly better, except for the fact that his head still was pounding and his throat was sore.

Severus vanished the contents of the bucket, but left it beside his son, just in case.

Then he said, in a tone that could've stripped the hide off of Harry, "And now you know the reason why you shouldn't drink to excess, Mr. Snape."

"But I didn't-"

Severus cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "Didn't what? Didn't know that drinking a whole bottle of alcohol will make you pass out? Do you honestly expect me to believe that pathetic excuse? Please, give me credit for having a brain, unlike yourself. What did you think you were doing? Trying to impress me with how much alcohol you can pour down your throat in a single sitting?"

"No, I wasn't . . ."

But Severus refused to let him speak, his temper was raging like a rampaging dragon. "Following in your grandfather's footsteps are you? I don't think so, mister! Not on my watch. No son of mine is going to become a slave to the bottle, by Merlin's balls! This is the first and last time you'll ever drink yourself senseless, Harry Snape. I don't care what problems you're having-that-" One finger stabbed towards the empty bottle of summerdew. "-is never the answer! Never, am I UNDERSTOOD?!"

Severus bellowed that last word practically in Harry's face, making his son cringe and shrink back into the cushions of the couch. Severus's hands were balled into fists, his eyes were shimmering with black rage, and spittle flecked his lips. He looked like a man on the verge of strangling his son. Either that or beating Harry senseless.

"I understand, sir," Harry managed through a throat taut with fear.

Severus had promised he would never whip him, but the way he was now . . .all fury and fire . . .it was like facing down a Norwegian Ridegeback. Or Uncle Vernon. He could recall with minute detail the way Vernon used to look, all red-faced, eyes bulging, just before his hands unbuckled his belt.

Suddenly he was no longer in Prince Manor, but back at Privet Drive, with Vernon reaching out to grasp the back of his neck and hold him fast while he whipped Harry for some minor transgression, like burning the biscuits for dinner, or getting a better mark than Dudley on a quiz. He could feel his uncle's hot breath on the back of his neck, his pudgy bull neck tight with wrath, as he raised his hand, the belt hissing through the air . . .

"No! No, please, Uncle!" he heard himself begging, just like a spineless baby. "I'll never do it again! Promise!"

He threw a hand up to protect his face, for once the belt had caught his cheek, as Vernon brought it back for another strike. . .

Then he was back at Prince Manor and Severus was saying, "Harry? Harry? Come back! Your uncle is not here. Only me. Harry, come back to me."

Slowly, Harry lowered the arm he'd thrown across his face, trying in vain to protect himself from Vernon . . no, not Vernon . . .his father . . .who had screamed and yelled at him just like Vernon . . .who had somehow become Vernon in that instant . . .and then he was eight again and facing the man's belt once more. He shivered, recalling the look of fury on Severus's face, it terrified him, and he wondered when the Potions Master would remove his belt and thrash him. He waited . . .but no hand grabbed him, no blow fell . . .He opened his eyes and heard Severus saying in a very soft tone, one he'd never head from the man ever, "Harry, come back to me. Harry . . .you're safe here . . .I won't hurt you . . .Harry, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, sir. Yes, I hear you. I'm sorry. I won't ever do it again! I'm sorry," he babbled, saying whatever he thought would soothe the tall wizard's temper, because he really didn't want to get beaten, though he knew Severus cold beat him if he chose, he was Harry's father . . .and they were alone here, no one would come to rescue him. To his utter disgust, he began to tremble.

"Harry. Look at me."

Unwillingly, his gaze was drawn upwards, to stare Severus right in the face.

Anger still rode the wizard's features, but it was not the black fury of before, and Severus held out his hands, palm up, in a nonthreatening gesture. "See? Nothing in my hands. No belt. No switch. Nothing."

He was speaking in a very calm tone, almost too calm, but at least that was better than the screaming maniac of before. Harry blinked, forced himself to take a deep breath. Then another. Another still, until he was breathing normally, and Snape was just a man again, and not the dark figure out of his nightmares. Warily, he peered at his father through his thick ebony lashes, waiting to see what the man would do next.

The Potions Master lowered his hands to his sides, letting Harry see he was not going to touch him in anger. He hadn't meant to scare the child that much, hadn't even thought his posture and his bellowing would trigger such a reaction in the boy until he saw Harry cringe away from him, eyes wide, like a wild animal in a trap, and throw a hand in front of his face. Instinct, Severus thought, recalling how many times he had done just that with his own father. And will you follow in your father's footsteps, Severus, and bully and hit your son? mocked his conscience. Shall you play Tobias's role now, and Harry play yours? For he does it so well, doesn't he? Without prompting even. Severus heaved a sigh, knowing he needed to get his temper under control before he issued any kind of punishment.

"Go to your room, Harry. I will be by in a few minutes to discuss the consequences of your behavior. As of now, consider yourself grounded and your broom is mine. Go."

Harry rose, avoiding his eyes, and slid past him, exiting the den and retreating to his room as ordered.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Harry sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands. God, but he'd nearly lost it. He didn't know why that had happened, but he never wanted it to occur again. He wished Severus would have let him explain why he'd tried the alcohol in the first place, instead of flying off the handle like that.

He had thought Severus knew him well enough by now to know that he would never drink himself senseless without a good reason, but the man hadn't even bothered to ask him why before he jumped down Harry's throat. The familiar sour sensation of betrayal curled in his gut.

Was he never to have one adult who trusted him, who thought to ask his opinion before jumping to conclusions? Severus was as bad as Dumbledore. Almost.

Harry climbed to his feet and went to sit on his bed. After he'd gotten sick and terrified out of his wits, he felt wrung out and tired. He wondered dully what other punishment Snape had in mind for him. He was reasonably sure Severus would not beat him, but a niggling thread of doubt still lingered. He was under the man's authority and if Snape chose to abuse it . . .Don't go there, Harry. Just don't. He could've hauled off and smacked you one before, when he was going off on you for being like his father, but he didn't. That thought relieved him immensely. Perhaps he might yet come out of this with a whole skin.

He fought to keep from biting his nails and pacing. He would wait, as he'd been told, and hope that once he was calm, Severus would allow him to explain his side of things, about the nightmares, and how he hadn't intended to get drunk, he'd only wanted to be able to sleep without dreams.

But that wasn't what it had looked like to Severus. He'd seen Harry passed out and assumed, incorrectly, that Harry had been drinking on purpose, like Tobias Snape had. Ah, Merlin! Why did I ever pick up that damn bottle last night? Why didn't I just keep going into the kitchen and get that cup of milk like I wanted to in the first place? Sometimes I'm such an idiot. Brilliant, Snape! You always manage to pick the thing that's going to rub him the wrong way.

Yet another part of his mind argued that Snape didn't have to scream at him that way. And he could've let Harry talk instead of cutting him off that way.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Harry? May I come in?"

"Yes."

Severus entered, and the angry aura no longer surrounded him. He had calmed down a great deal in fifteen minutes, and now looked his normal self. Even so, Harry could not look him in the eye, he was still too upset.

"All right. Let's talk about what happened last night." Severus began, clearing his throat. He dragged a chair out from the desk and sat opposite his son, doing his best to seem nonthreatening. "Harry. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Harry refused to meet Severus's eyes, keeping his emerald orbs trained on the carpet between his trainers.

The older Snape gave an exasperated sigh. "Harry, I'm not going to hold a conversation with the back of your head. Now look at me."

"Only if you'll listen to my side of things first," his son mumbled, lifting his head a notch.

He reminded Severus of an abused puppy, glancing warily about to see if it was safe to come out from behind a chair. "Very well. I shall hear you out, provided you talk to me and not the carpet. It can't answer you," Severus said, striving for a lighter tone. But his attempt at humor fell flat, he'd never been much good at humor anyway.

Then Harry raised his head and emerald eyes met ebony. Now Severus saw the hurt and betrayal his son had been hiding, and he felt as if someone had slapped him hard across the face. He'd been expecting defiance, even fear, not this.

"So, last night," Severus began, then gestured for Harry to continue.

Harry swallowed, searching for the right words. After a long moment he decided it was best to just tell the truth, even if Severus thought he was nothing but a wimp. "I . . I had a nightmare. About the Dementors. I . .I keep having them, over and over."

"For how long have you had these nightmares?"

"I don't know, sir. A long time."

"How long? A week, a month? When did they start?"

His son thought hard. The nightmares had been plaguing him forever, or so it seemed. "Ummm...I think the first one was right after they nearly killed me by the Black Lake. When Sirius . . when Sirius escaped from the Shrieking Shack and the dementors came for him. It was after that whole incident. Ever since then . . .I dream of them. They surround me, they grab me, and then one lowers its hood and I see its face . . .before it Kisses me. And sometimes I . . ." he fell silent, nibbling his lip to shreds.

"And sometimes?" Severus prompted. "I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong, Harry."

The boy heaved a sigh. "Sometimes I hear her . . .Mum, I mean, screaming. Screaming at Voldemort not to hurt me. Then I wake up. That's all."

"You dream of Lily the night she . . died?" The Potions Master's voice was hoarse. "You've been dreaming of your mother's death and being Kissed by dementors for months and you didn't think to tell anyone?" scolded his father.

Harry flushed. "No. Who was I going to tell? Dumbledore thought I was a hero, and heroes don't go running to their Headmasters crying over stupid nightmares, do they? And after that I was with the Dursleys and you know how much they would've cared about my state of mind, right?"

"You had a nightmare the first night I was there, but you never told me it was a recurring one. If you had I would have given you a Dreamless Sleep Potion. Last night, why didn't you wake me up instead of drinking an entire half a bottle of summerdew?

"I . . I didn't want you to think I was . . .a little baby, waking you up over a stupid dream. So I was going to go and get a glass of milk and warm it up, but then I saw the bottle on the sideboard and I remembered Aunt Petunia saying that a glass of sherry, a nightcap, she called it, helped you sleep. And I really needed to sleep without dreams, sir, so I just poured some to taste it."

Severus frowned. "Tell the truth, young man. You did more than taste it."

"I know, but I was only going to taste it but once I sipped it . . It tasted so good, I'd never tasted anything like that before, so I just drank it down. Then I wanted more and I drank another glass and then I felt all sleepy and I went to the couch and I guess I passed out. I swear, sir, I've never drank before this. I'm not going to ever do it again either." Harry promised.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Harry. Because given your family history, you should avoid alcohol when possible. I myself rarely imbibe, although . . I did last night," he admitted. "Even so, I drank barely half a glass and stopped. Clearly you lack the self control to monitor your drinking. Therefore I suggest you think long and hard about ever drinking again. You don't want to travel the road Tobias took, now do you?"

"No, sir."

" I didn't think so. Next time you have a nightmare, Harry I want you to come and get me. No matter what time of the night, you are to come and wake me up, am I clear? Because there is no reason you have to suffer through these nightmares alone." Severus paused for a moment, then said, awkwardly, for he was not accustomed to apologizing, "I'm . . .sorry for the way I acted before. I was . . .shocked and angry and I overreacted. I want you to know that you have nothing to fear from me, Harry. I will never whip you, no matter how angry I may seem. I am not my father. I know I may not seem like the most . . approachable person, but I . . .do want to help you. If you will let me, that is. I will not shout at you if you wake me, Harry. I will give you some Dreamless Sleep and then stay with you till you fall asleep. That is part of my job as a parent."

"You won't be mad?"

"No, child. The only way I will be mad at you is if you don't wake me up and I find out you've been kept up all night because of it. Then I will be quite annoyed and ground you for a day or two."

"Okay," Harry agreed reluctantly.

"As far as last night's transgression is concerned, I will allow your broom back, but you are still grounded for five days. During that time you are not allowed to use magic to complete your chores, and you will also write an essay for me on why underage drinking is a bad idea and what alternatives there are to drinking. You will also go to bed at nine o'clock for these next five days. Perhaps a decent amount of sleep will alleviate the nightmares somewhat. You will also be helping me in my potions lab, and that is not part of your punishment, but something you need to do in order to improve your potions skills. Practice makes perfect."

Harry made a face at the old saying.

"Now then, how is your stomach feeling? Do you need me to make you an Anti Nausea draft?"

"No, sir. I feel . . .okay now."

"Good. However, I think a light breakfast of some fruit and toast and chamomile tea should settle your stomach even more." Severus said. "How about your head?"

"That's better too," Harry said. It was true, his head was no longer pounding fit to burst.

"Come along then. You can eat and then you may start on a list of chores I will give you. Then I'd suggest you begin the essay. There are several books in the library that detail alcoholism, I read them myself after I left home and was here for some time after I had faked my own death. I would recommend you read them, so you know the perils of drinking." Severus rose to his feet, then gestured for Harry to precede him out of the bedroom.

As Harry did so, he felt his father's hand on his head, ruffling his hair in an unmistakable gesture of affection.