Severus Snape had always known the risks when he agreed to be a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He had always known that someday there might come a time when his cover as a loyal Death Eater and servant of Voldemort might be blown to pieces and he would have to run for his life.

He just hadn't expected that time to be so soon, or that his pursuers would be so determined to end his existence so quickly. But Lucius and MacNair were determined to put him in the ground, permanently, for what they called his "traitorous actions and perfidy against the most loyal followers of the Great Lord Voldemort." Snape wanted to sneer at that utter rot, it was so typical of the Death Eater mentality. Only by proclaiming their mad master as a visionary perfectionist who would bring all glory and honor to them and make them rulers of the world, only by saying they were better than the rest of the world and those in it could they justify the atrocities they committed-the murders, the thefts, the rape, the Unforgivable Curses. A myriad of sins could be covered by the words-"Do this because the Dark Lord orders it, he is the Way and the Right."

That was how the others slept at night, without the horrid nightmares that plagued those with consciences and souls, such as the spy Severus.

Well, now that was finished. He could no longer be Dumbledore's eyes and ears, no longer atone for the sins of his youth, when he'd foolishly followed the charismatic Lucius Malfoy down the lefthand path into darkness. For now they knew that he was a supporter of the Light, since he had refused to torture and rape the little seven-year-old Muggle girl. Instead, he'd let her go, sending her back to her home, which he'd seen in her thoughts using Legilimency.

No true follower of the Dark Lord would have turned down the chance to play with a Muggle that way. Such was meat and drink to a Death Eater, their evening entertainment, after the meeting. Severus had been caught off guard, he hadn't been expecting Lucius to give the poor child to him, and hadn't been able to manufacture a good enough lie, nor to dissemble well enough to make them think he'd enjoyed her "favors", and he'd reacted with his true feelings-disgust and horror and anger at the beasts who could do such to an innocent child.

It was a momentary lapse in judgement, but one lapse was all it took.

Now he fled for his life, across the Highlands of Scotland, into the moors of Yorkshire, Apparating one step ahead of Lucius and MacNair. He was injured as well, Lucius had cut open his shoulder with a well-timed Cutting Curse. In a way, he was lucky he was so quick, otherwise the curse could've cut open his throat.

As it was, he was growing steadily weaker from blood loss, he'd bound the arm as best he could with strips of his robe, but the curse had cut deep and he could not stop to mend the damage, or the two would catch up to him and finish what they had begun.

His first instinct was to go to Hogwarts, but the school was no sanctuary for him now, and the one man who could help him was absent, since it was the summer holidays. He didn't dare risk going to Spinner's End, either, that was his residence and they'd look there first.

There was only one other option, he must go to earth like a fox and hide in the one place no one would ever think to look.

A home of Muggles. Number Four Privet Drive, Surrey.

The home of one Petunia Dursley, sister to Lily Evans, whom he had once loved with an undying passion that had filled the nights with joy. Petunia, her husband Vernon, their son and their nephew, Harry Potter.

Dumbledore had put wards about their house that would keep out Voldemort himself, were he abroad now. Severus knew they would protect him as well, since he was a sworn member of the Order and one of the Potter brat's guardians.

So he concentrated, ignoring the awful pounding in his head and the dizziness, the sick nauseated feeling in his stomach, and using all the discipline he possessed, Apparated himself to Privet Drive.

He appeared in the living room of the well-to-do home, in front of a fireplace that looked like it had come out of one of those fancy home decorating magazines, with pictures of the family on the mantle. He glanced at them, noting in an odd detached manner that there were no pictures of James's son present.

His head was spinning and he just managed to catch himself on the edge of the sofa, which was a brown suede affair with lots of plush pillows. He teetered on legs that were suddenly folding beneath him, sank to the cushions, pulled out his wand and intoned a Blood-Halt spell before collapsing into a blood-stained heap on Petunia's sofa.

* * * * *

Harry normally awoke first at Privet Drive, the better to get a shower that wasn't ice cold and sneak some food from the fridge before starting his usual round of endless chores for the day. Beginning with making breakfast for his aunt, uncle, and Dudley, all of whom ate like ten Hagrids and never once thought that other people were starving in Africa. Or right in front of their noses, for Harry usually only got leftovers when they were about, though occasionally Petunia would slip him an extra piece of toast or bacon, or leave some of her breakfast untouched. It was rare, but sometimes his aunt did commit random acts of kindness, Merlin only knew why. Harry never questioned them, he just took what was given.

He'd learned the hard way that the wrong questions brought only smacks and scoldings and sometimes worse, if Uncle Vernon were in a mood. Though Petunia usually got wind of it before he did and sent Harry to his cupboard or outside to weed the flowerbeds before Vernon saw him. Unless she were annoyed with him, then she let him suffer his uncle's heavy hand or, once or twice, his belt. Though that hadn't happened since the summer after his first year at Hogwarts, when Hagrid had given their precious Duddy a pig's tail. It had been awful funny then, but once Vernon got hold of his nephew when he'd finally come home . . .Harry's behind had gotten blistered something awful and he probably had a scar or two to match Dudley's where they'd removed the pig tail.

But all that had been years ago, he was thirteen now, almost fourteen, and this morning he was up ahead of everyone, the lazy slobs. He quickly showered and dressed, then slipped downstairs to see what he could scrounge from the fridge when he caught sight of a strange black bundle on Petunia's new suede couch.

Drawing closer, he could now make out that it was a man lying on the couch, a man he recognized, a man who always dressed in black from head to foot, a man who he knew disliked him but never knew why-his most feared potions professor, Severus Snape.

Harry peered down at Severus in utter bewilderment. What was Snape doing here? Asleep on the couch?

A moment later, Snape groaned and stirred, and Harry saw the unmistakable splotches of blood on the other wizard's clothing, he knew it was blood because the professor was bleeding onto the couch as well.

As he chewed his lower lip nervously, Severus opened his eyes.

And the sound of footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

The last thing Petunia Dursley expected to see on a Saturday morning in early July was her nephew assisting a tall man in bloodstained black robes who was bleeding all over her brand new suede couch. "Professor, you've got to get up, you can't stay here. If my aunt or, Merlin forbid, my uncle should see you . . ." Harry was saying quickly, trying his best to help the heavier man rise and remove himself from the sofa.

"What have you dragged home now, Harry James Potter?" Petunia demanded softly, for she too did not want to wake her husband. Vernon was grouchy as a bear when woken abruptly, and he would go bonkers if he saw one of those "freaky people" in his house. Petunia walked over to them, her soft fuzzy pink slippers making no noise on the beige carpet. Her housecoat with its rose print wrapped snugly about her, she looked like she had just stepped out of the pages of Good Housekeeping. Her blue eyes widened in shocked disbelief.

"Severus Snape? But-but that's impossible!" A hand went to her heart and she looked as if she were about to pass out. "She told me you were dead!"

Harry stared in alarm from one adult to the other and wondered if he were still asleep and this were all some kind of insane nightmare. "Aunt Petunia? Maybe you'd better sit down. You look kind of . . .umm . . .pale."

He reached out a hand to help her, but she shook off his assistance and squinted sharply at the man she had presumed dead for thirteen years. The man who was sitting blearily on her brand-new sofa looking like death warmed over. "I'm fine. Now go and fetch me some clean towels and some bandages. Hurry, boy, I can't have Vernon seeing a half-dead wizard on the living room couch."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry scurried away to do as he'd been told.

Severus eyed Petunia irritably. "Well, you haven't changed much, have you?" he asked softly, propping himself up on his good arm. "Still as bossy as ever."

"Humph! And you, still as shabby as ever, I see. What happened Snape? Get yourself beaten up for vagrancy? Or was it drunkenness, like your sorry excuse for a father?"

Severus drew in a breath, he really was not up to sparring with Petunia yet. But he wasn't about to let those comments slide, either. "Bridle that wasp's tongue of yours, Tuney. You forget, I'm not your sister, and I'll hex your mouth shut if I have to."

She gasped, affronted. "You'd not dare magic me in my own house!"

"Try me," he bared his teeth at her in a feral smile, and she stepped back. "I've never had much patience for your airs, Petunia and what little I have is fast evaporating. So if I were you, I'd not push me."

He fixed her with one of his intimidating scowls. It was all bluff of course, he didn't have the strength enough to heal himself, let alone hex Petunia with the shape he was in. But he would rather be hung, drawn, and quartered than admit to weakness in front of prissy, prim and proper Petunia Dursley. Prissy Pinch-faced Petunia, Lily and I used to call her, back in the days when we were small and we lived to annoy her. Back when he had been innocent and Lily Evans had been his best friend, the witch next door.

Just then Harry returned with the bandages and towels. "Here, Aunt Petunia." He handed her the clean towels and the bandages. "Professor, what happened to you?"

Snape sneered at him. "I would think that was obvious, Potter. However, if you need it spelled out, I was in a duel."

"And came out the worst for it," sniffed Petunia. "Take that robe or whatever you wizards call it off, Severus, and let me see to that wound."

Severus glared. "I can tend to it myself," he said stiffly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Snape! You're half-dead on your feet, the only thing keeping you vertical is your blasted male pride. Now quit playing the Spartan and let me help you, because if you die, I'm not shelling out good money for a funeral."

Severus snorted. "You'd prefer it if I died in the road, wouldn't you?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't die at all, you damned stubborn jackass!" snapped Petunia. "Now be still and let me help you. Men! If I hadn't promised Lily, all those years ago . . ." she trailed off as Severus unbuttoned his robe and managed to slip it down his shoulders, revealing the nasty three inch wide gash in his upper bicep. "Good Lord, Snape! That needs stitches, what did that, a knife?"

"Just bind it up, Petunia. I'll heal it later." Severus ordered wearily. "And no, it wasn't a knife, it was a curse."

"A curse!" Harry repeated, staring at the wound with something akin to horrified fascination. From the way they were acting, it appeared his aunt and Snape knew each other. But how? "Err . . .what kind of curse does that?"

"One that you should never learn, Potter," snapped Severus, wincing slightly as Petunia unbound the blood-soaked rags about his arm and then applied pressure to the wound with the fresh towels.

"Figures. It's like you to get mixed up in trouble like that. You and my sister, magnets for trouble when you were kids and looks like nothing has changed since." Petunia huffed, but her hands were gentle as she removed the bloodstained towel and applied a fresh one. "Humph! Looks like the bleeding is stopping."

"Uh, did you two know each other, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, feeling utterly bewildered.

But it was Snape who answered. "Unfortunately, yes. I was the Evans's neighbor growing up, but only Lily ever condescended to play with me. Your aunt was too busy being a snooty know-it-all."

"You and my little sister were the most annoying brats on the planet, Severus, and well you know it. With all of your talk of magic this and Hogwarts that, and casting your stupid spells that turned my hair green for a week."

"Lily never meant to do that. It was an accident," Severus defended.

"You knew my mum, sir?" gaped Harry. Severus had known his mother all this time and had never said anything?

"He certainly did. He was engaged to marry Lily once upon a time, right after they graduated that school of theirs."

Harry felt his jaw come unhinged. Snape and his mother, engaged?

"But then he broke it off, said he had important work to do for some secret Order and he couldn't marry Lily, it was too dangerous. So he left one night and Lily was heartbroken. Then a week later, she received some kind of letter saying you were dead, and for a while I thought she might follow you into the damn grave herself. She was so depressed she didn't eat, didn't sleep, cried all the time, my parents were at their wits end. They were going to check her into a psychiatric asylum when I told her she could come and live with me for a few months. She agreed, and she moved in with me and Vernon. I had just learned I was in the family way, you see, and thought it might cheer her up some knowing she was to be an aunt. And that was when she told me."

She had finished bandaging Snape's shoulder and he carefully eased his sleeve back up, though he didn't bother redoing the button. "Told you what? That she was suddenly madly in love with James Potter? Didn't he start courting her around then?" asked Severus with a bitter smile. The nature of his undercover work had forced him to fake his own death for a time, and he had always regretted never telling Lily the truth, but Dumbledore had insisted no one was to know save himself. After Voldemort had been killed, it was revealed that Severus had always been a spy for the Light.

"Yes, but even he never knew the truth." Petunia's hands suddenly stilled, then they twisted upon the bloody towel. "Lily made me swear, upon my unborn child and my immortal soul, to never tell. Because I couldn't avoid noticing, not when we were in the same house . . ."

"Noticing what, Aunt Petunia?"

The older woman bit her lip, and her blue eyes were strangely unfocused. Then she looked away. Both wizards looked at her in puzzlement. What secret did Lily carry that required her to demand such a promise from her older sister? At last, Petunia looked back at them, and gathering all of her courage, she said, "I suppose it doesn't matter now, now that Lily's dead and so is James. Now that you're alive, Snape. I only kept it out of respect for my sister's memory, had I known you were still on the earth, Snape, I would've contacted you years ago, so you could take responsibility for your own brat and I would've gotten stuck all these years."

"What are you babbling about, Petunia?"

"You want to know what kept Lily from killing herself when she learned you were dead, Severus?" Petunia hissed. "Shall I tell you a little secret? Only one thing. The fact that she carried your child." She lifted a finger and pointed at Harry. "He's your son, Snape! Not James's, yours!"

"You're out of your mind, woman! He looks nothing like me."

"Appearances can be deceiving. Lily cast a spell on him as soon as he was born, making him look like her new husband, James. But I always knew the truth. Lily had no choice but to confide in me, but she never wanted Potter to know, figured he'd never consent to raise another man's bastard, particularly yours. Said you two hated each other."

"We did. Potter was an arrogant, bullying, toe rag." Severus replied, still dazed by the sudden revelation. My son. I have a son? Oh Merlin, how is this possible? Potter is mine, not James's? I must be dreaming or delirious from blood loss. The truth was so unexpected, so amazing, that he almost could not make sense of it, and his thoughts were running in crazed circles, so the only thing he managed to say was, "Now what spell did she cast?"

Harry's mind reeled. He kept hearing Petunia's voice, repeating over and over, "He's your son, Snape! Not James's, but yours!" This could not be happening. The last wizard on earth he would want to claim as a relation was now his father.

But before he could say or do anything else, they heard the faint thud of someone upstairs moving about and then the sound of a shower running.

"Quick, boy! Help me get him upstairs in your bedroom!" ordered Petunia. "We can hide him there until your uncle goes out for his morning round of golf with Mr. Mason."

Together, they managed to get the weakened Potions Master up the stairs and into Harry's bedroom. They got him settled in the bed and then Petunia and Harry departed to start breakfast as usual, leaving their unexpected visitor to ponder the sudden fact that he was now the parent of a thirteen-year-old boy whom he had always regarded as an annoyance, an arrogant stuck-up version of his father, James. Except that James's blood did not run through Harry's veins at all. Severus Snape's did.

Overwhelmed both by the news and blood loss, Severus sank down on to the pillows and fell asleep. His body craved rest and without sleep he would not be able to think properly. So he allowed himself to slip into slumber, and his dreams were all of Lily holding a newborn infant with dark hair and saying, "Look at your son, Sev! He's the spitting image of his father."

Harry's mind was spinning round and round, like the back tires of a car stuck in the mud. Snape was his father. Severus Snape was his father. Lily had loved Snape, not James and he was the proof. He must have zoned out for a minute, because the next thing he knew, Petunia's bony hand was shaking him and she was half-shouting in his ear, "Wake up, boy! Now's not the time to go woolgathering. Get a wet cloth and lay it on the stain and cover it with an afghan so Vernon won't see the blood, you can scrub it out later. Then get your backside in the kitchen and start cooking, you know how your uncle hates to be kept waiting. Hustle, boy!" She clapped her hands at him.

Harry hustled, hiding the bloodstains on the couch as ordered, then going into the kitchen to begin breakfast as usual. He quickly got out the skillet and a large bowl, plus the carton of eggs, milk, butter, bacon and bread. He also removed a small tin of fruit from the pantry, for Petunia did not like heavy breakfasts and usually only ate toast, fruit, and yogurt. He started a pot of coffee, then began to scramble up eight eggs, beating them till they were light and frothy. He had learned to cook at a young age, four or maybe five, as soon as Petunia could trust him near the stove without getting burnt to death. Once he could make edible food, she turned the cooking over to him, at least when his uncle was around.

Dudley thundered down the stairs and thumped into the kitchen. "Move it, shrimp!" he ordered, shoving Harry on the way to the fridge to get himself a glass of juice.

The shove made some of Harry's eggs slop over onto the floor.

Dudley gulped juice directly from the carton, dribbling some down his three chins as he did so. He glanced at the yellow stain on the spotless kitchen floor and brayed, "Mum! Harry made a mess on the clean floor again!"

"Clean it up, you good for nothing brat!" snapped Petunia, not bothering to come and see for herself.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," responded Harry, going to mop up the egg with a wet cloth and some salt. Dudley was never blamed for anything, she always believed her son over Harry. Dudley sneered and shoved him again as he made his way to the table to read the comic section of the paper. Harry bit his lip and wished he had his wand so he could turn his cousin into a guinea pig and kick him around for a change.

But by the time Vernon came down, dressed in his best-collared golf shirt and matching tweed trousers, leather golf shoes and cap, Harry had breakfast on the table. He'd burned his finger on the skillet when Dudley had crashed into him and stole a piece of bacon draining on a paper towel, but at least he hadn't burnt the toast or the bacon, thank Merlin.

The family sat down and began to devour the food, while Harry remained standing behind them, like a servant, waiting until they were done to clear their plates away.

"I want you to weed the flower beds today, boy, front and back. Mulch the front ones and weed and then clean out the shed. After that do whatever chores your aunt wants inside, understood?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry already knew all of that, but he acted as though he didn't, since Vernon never missed an opportunity to order about his nephew. His uncle droned on and Harry gave him half an ear, his thoughts flying back to the astonishing revelation of the morning . . .Snape was his father.

A cuff on the ear from Vernon brought him out of his reverie with a start.

"What's the matter with you, boy? Didn't you just hear me say I need my clubs? Mr. Mason will be here any minute. Hop to it, you lazy thing!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry," Harry apologized, careful to keep his eyes on the ground.

"Move, boy!" Vernon grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around and sending him towards the hall closet with a sharp smack on the rear.

Harry winced, but did as he'd been told, praying Vernon's game went well.

Then he began to clear the table, finding a cold piece of toast and some bacon beneath Petunia's cloth. Harry ate it quickly, while his uncle was using the loo. He also ate the remainder of the cold scrambled eggs, making sure no one saw. Dudley had squealed on him when they were little once for eating the leftovers, and Vernon had called Harry a trash picker and walloped him so hard he couldn't sit down for a day. So now Harry looked around before he ate, it was much safer that way.

Once Vernon had departed and Dudley was occupied with his friends outside, Harry scrubbed the bloodstains out of the couch, wishing once more he could use magic.

* * * * * *

Severus awoke feeling marginally better than he had earlier, though he still felt like a lorry had run over him repeatedly. Such was the aftereffect of too many Apparition spells and exhaustion. Still, it was better than being six feet under. He sat up gingerly, his left arm throbbed and burned like seven hells. A quick glance out the window revealed it to be early afternoon, so Severus had slept the whole morning.

He carefully removed his robe, beneath it he wore only a lightweight black short-sleeved shirt and the bandage Petunia had wound about his arm. He carefully began to unwind it, his wand ready in his lap to cast the healing spell, when a knock came at the door.

"Professor? You awake?"

"Yes."

Harry slipped into the room, carrying a tray, shutting the door as soon as he was inside. Upon the tray was a bowl of soup, grilled cheese, and a glass of ice water. "For you, sir. Aunt Petunia thought you might be hungry."

"Put it there," Severus jerked his chin at the nightstand. "I'll eat after I've finished healing myself."

Harry set the tray down, wondering why Snape was looking at him so critically. True, he was a bit dirty from mulching the beds and sweaty, but Snape needn't frown at him like that. Then he watched as the wizard peeled away the bandage, wincing slightly as the edge of the cloth caught on the wound.

Then Snape picked up his wand and pointed the tip at the ugly slash, only to feel eyes upon him. He glanced up irritably to find Harry watching him avidly. "Quit gawping like a fish out of water, potter. Have you never seen a healing charm done?"

Harry shook his head, transfixed by the raw red wound on Snape's arm, which was well-muscled for one who didn't play sports, surprisingly.

"Then it's about time you learned," the Potions Master said, rolling his eyes. He touched the tip of his wand to the gaping wound and intoned, "Restituo Salus!"

A soft silvery light emerged from his wand and covered the gash. When it faded, Snape's arm was healed, all save for a faint white line on his skin, which would disappear in a few hours. Severus set his wand down and said pointedly, "Now that is a spell you should learn, considering the amount of injuries you acquire each term, Potter."

Harry flushed, wishing Snape didn't make it sound as if he were some kind of accident prone idiot, always falling and hurting himself. Most of his injuries had been received when some agent of Voldemort or monster was trying to kill him, save for a few Quidditch accidents. Here, on Privet Drive, any injuries were gained via Dudley or Vernon.

Stung by what he perceived as a criticism, Harry demanded, "How can I learn what I've never been taught? Am I just supposed to absorb it into my brain by osmosis?"

"You learn by paying attention, Potter, instead of making insolent remarks." Severus told him, fixing him with one of his famous glowers.

"I wasn't!" Harry cried, incensed. He hadn't been in the man's company five minutes and already he was jumping down his throat. "Maybe if I had a teacher who could actually teach and not just criticize . . ."

He trailed off abruptly, for Severus looked as if he wished to throttle him.

With a tremendous effort, Severus reined in his temper. How dare the little brat imply he was not a good teacher! Did he even know how difficult it was to teach a roomful of hyper, attention-seeking, hormonal teenagers day after day? Ones who were more concerned with their social lives than learning the craft they needed to survive?

"You mind your mouth, boy. You might be allowed to get away with acting like a spoiled brat here, but I won't tolerate it, I assure you." Snape ground out, his jaw clenched so hard it was a miracle his teeth didn't break. "Adjust the attitude, mister, or else." Here, Severus trailed off meaningfully, not wanting to make a threat he couldn't carry out.

"Or else what?" Harry sneered, challenging the other wizard at last as he'd longed to do for years. "You'll give me detention? Ground me? Take away my broom? Spank me? You're my father now, so you can punish me however you like, right? That's what you're thinking, I'll bet. Like it isn't punishment enough living here. Well, if you want to be my father so much, Snape, why don't you try opening your eyes? You might learn something!"

Severus fought to keep from jumping out of the bed and shaking the defiant child until his teeth rattled. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" He kept his tone even and calm, a leader never needed to raise his voice--only a subordinate did that. He locked gazes with his newly discovered offspring, enduring the undisguised resentment and anger in the green eyes without batting an eyelash.

"It means, sir, that maybe I'm not the spoiled brat you think I am!"

With that, Harry stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard the shelf above the bed shook, before Severus could question him further.

The professor closed his eyes and counted to ten slowly. Then again. . . . and again, forcing himself to calm down. Running after the insolent whelp and dragging him back by the ear to explain himself wouldn't solve anything, nor would throttling him, much as he hated to admit it. Suddenly, Severus wished he were anywhere but at Privet Drive. He had intended to ask to borrow Potter's owl before the brat had started mouthing off to him, so he could send a message to Albus and tell him his spying days were done.

Severus began to eat, he never liked wasting good food, he'd gone hungry too many nights when he was a child. He would have offered to teach his son the Heal All spell had he asked, instead of accusing Severus of being incompetent. The nerve of the impudent little snot! Petunia certainly had spoiled him, if this was how he behaved away from school, with no respect for authority. The boy broke rules left and right at school, and it appeared at home it was no different. The Potions Master sipped his soup, seething quietly.

Meanwhile, Harry had run smack into Petunia on his way downstairs, she had come up to see why her nephew was shouting and slamming doors.

"What on earth is going on up here, young man? I send you up to bring him some lunch and instead I find you've started a feud. Have you forgotten what will happen if your uncle ever finds out you're hiding a wizard in your bedroom?"

"No," Harry muttered to the carpet, already regretting his outburst. He knew all too well who would bear the brunt of Vernon's temper if Snape were ever discovered in Harry's bedroom. "I got mad and I . . .forgot. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," she ordered, waving a finger at her nephew. "Now, what was all the yelling about?"

"Nothing, Aunt Petunia."

"Humph. Nothing doesn't cause you slam doors and shout loud enough to be heard in another universe, Harry James Potter. You have two choices. Either you tell me what happened or I go and ask Severus."

"No!" Harry said quickly, for that was the last thing he needed, Petunia and Severus ganging up on him. "He . . .thinks I have an attitude with him and I don't." He mumbled.

"What?"

"He thinks I have an attitude with him, all right?" Harry repeated irritably.

"Well, if you spoke to him the way you just did me, I'd say he was right," Petunia said crisply.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia." Then he added indignantly, "Snape and I just don't get along, that's all. He's always on my back in class, he doesn't like me because I'm-" Harry halted, for he'd been going to say "he doesn't like me because I'm James Potter's son." but that had been a lie. "Never mind."

Petunia made as if to go around Harry and open the bedroom door.

"Okay! Okay!"Harry said, moving to keep her from the bedroom. "Snape doesn't like me because he thinks I'm just like my father."

Petunia stared at him. "Harry, you're not making any sense. Why would Severus dislike you for being like him?

"No, I meant he used to think I was James . . .who used to be my father . . .err . . .we all thought he was my father. . . . he's a sarcastic git and he thinks I'm a spoiled brat." Harry stumbled to a halt.

Petunia pursed her lip. "Well, if I didn't know better, I would agree with the way you've been slamming doors and shouting. I taught you better than that, mister!"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry sighed. "But it was partly his fault too . . ."

"Harry, might I suggest you go back in the room and attempt to patch things up with Severus? I know he's not the easiest person to live with, but he is your father and you should make an effort to mend things between you. He can give you a better home than this, and well you know it!"

Harry bit his lip hard. He truly wanted to believe that, but this was Snape, of all people, he of the sharp tongue and swift temper. "Just ‘cause he's my father doesn't mean he won't treat me the same as Uncle Vernon does," the 13-year-old said in a low voice.

Petunia was quiet for a while, then she spoke. "God knows I'm not usually in the position of defending a wizard over my husband, much less Severus Snape, but you really don't know him at all if you think Severus would ever behave the way Vernon does towards you."

"Really? How do you know?"

"Because your mother would've never gotten engaged to Vernon. She warned me about him, that he was too controlling . . .and I didn't listen." She looked away, then lowered her voice even further and said, "This goes no farther than your ears, boy. You need never fear Severus taking a belt or a switch to you because he swore on his mother's grave he would never be like his father, a drunken bully. His father used to smack him and his mother around when he was drunk. I know because I lived next door to the Snape's, and Lily and I weren't dumb we knew what was going on, even though Sev would never admit it. Severus may be many things, but he was always a man of his word. Now go back in there and issue apologies, because a chance like this comes along but once in this lifetime."

Yet Harry hesitated. Somehow, he just didn't feel up to facing Snape yet, and letting himself be scolded like a naughty child. He wasn't sure what to make of the revelations Petunia had told him. It had been ten times easier to deal with Snape when he was just the greasy bat of the dungeons and not his father. It had been easier when Snape was the snarky long-nosed git who hated Harry Potter, not a man who had lived through an abused childhood similar to Harry's own.

"Later. I'll talk to him later, Aunt Petunia. I promise."

"You are stubborn as a mountain goat, mister! Have it your way then. And I know exactly where you get that stubbornness from, Harry, and it's not from Lily."

"Thanks, Aunt Petunia. I gotta start on the shed now," he said, disappearing downstairs before his aunt could saying anything else."

He would return to bring Snape his dinner after Vernon and Dudley started watching the television, a car race was on, and then he would apologize or whatever, because Petunia was right, anywhere was better than Privet Drive, and Snape couldn't be any worse than his uncle, could he?

* * * * * *

Severus watched from the upstairs window as Harry walked outside , followed a moment later by a large blond haired boy Snape assumed was Petunia's son, Dudley. Probably going to play some game before supper, he thought and nearly withdrew from the window. Until he saw his son-how strange it was to think of James's quasi-reflection as his-going over to a whitewashed shed and beginning to rearrange and remove several items from it.

Ah. Petunia must have sent them to do some yard work. Perhaps I was wrong and he's not as spoiled as I first thought, not if he's doing chores alongside his cousin.

Then the Potions Master noticed that Dudley wasn't doing anything, simply watching while Harry did all the work. Dudley even went and shoved the ebony-haired boy a few times, but strangely, Harry did nothing, he simply kept working. By the end of ten minutes, Severus longed to take that brat Dudley by the ear and set him to scrubbing his dungeon floor with a toothbrush until he learned the meaning of work, the spoiled baby.

Finally, Harry had completed the shed, and his shirt was soaked with sweat and grimy. He went to get a drink from the hose, but Dudley bumped him hard, causing water to spray all over him, drenching him from head to foot.

Dudley laughed uproariously, and Severus waited for his son to retaliate. Surely this time . . .Harry must act. But again, Harry merely walked away, though Severus could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was furious.

A moment later, Severus heard them enter the house, and Dudley yelling to his mother, "Mum! Harry had an accident with the hose and he looks like a refugee from China! Or a drowned rat!" He began to laugh again, loudly.

Accident my arse! Severus thought angrily. Again he waited for the boy to speak in his own defense and tell his aunt the true story, but all he heard was Petunia's voice scolding her nephew for getting all wet and muddy, then ordering him upstairs for a shower and a change of clothes. "Mind you're done before your uncle gets home, boy!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied in a subdued tone.

The boy's attitude mystified Severus, for he knew Harry had a temper and he didn't seem like the kind to take abuse from that overgrown baby walrus lying down. Yet that was exactly what was happening. The only question was why?

Severus turned away from the window and seated himself in the desk chair. When he heard the door open, he cast a quick Concealment Charm and vanished from sight.

But it was only Harry, come to get dry clothing.

The boy halted just inside the door, looking about the room in alarm. He shut the door and called softly, "Professor? Professor Snape?"

"I'm still here, Potter. You just can't see me," he drawled.

"Oh. I thought . . ." 

"You thought maybe I'd jumped out the window, perhaps?" asked Severus dryly. "I assure you, I'm not that desperate to escape your aunt's hospitality, such as it is."

"It's not her fault you have to stay in here, really," Harry felt compelled to defend Petunia, Merlin only knew why. "My uncle would go bonkers if he knew another wizard was here. He-he doesn't like anything to do with us or our world. That's why my trunk is locked in the basement and Hedwig is at Ron's until my birthday."

"Your owl is not here?"

"No. She was going nuts locked in her cage all the time and my uncle said if she made one more sound, he'd shoot her, so I sent her to the Weasleys. She's much happier there and Ron promised he'd send her back with some presents on my birthday. That's July 31st."

"Yes, I'm well aware of your birthday, despite not being there to see you get born. The whole wizarding world knows the birthday of the Boy Who Lived." Snape pointed out.

"Oh. I hate being famous," Harry muttered.

Severus did not bother to reply to that complaint, but instead said, "I had hoped to send a message to Professor Dumbledore informing him that my spying days are over, but now I'll have to wait and avail myself of your hospitality a little longer."

"You were a spy?" Harry exclaimed. "I thought you were just a Potions Master."

"I am many things, Potter. Now go and get cleaned up, you're dripping water all over the carpet." Severus made a shooing motion with a hand, canceling the charm as he did so.

Harry felt as though a gentle hand were drawing him towards the door and he shot his parent an exasperated look before following the invisible urging. Honestly, did Snape think he was a baby that needed to be led by the hand to take a bath?

Twenty minutes later, Harry returned to the room, determined to bury the hatchet once and for all. But as he went to gather up the tray with the dirty dishes, Severus's voice floated over to him, and froze him in his tracks. "Before you leave again, I want to ask you a question, Potter."

Harry turned, looking at his teacher with wary eyes. "Sir?"

"I saw you outside today with your . . .cousin, I presume?"

"Yeah, Dudley followed me." Harry admitted uneasily.

"Why do you allow him to bully you? You have guts enough to stand up to me, an adult wizard not to mention your . . . father, and yet you let a boy like that push you around. Why?"

Harry wanted to die right there. Bad enough Dudley had to start his little games again, but to have it witnessed by Snape . . .he wished he could find a deep dark hole and fall into it and never come out. But Snape was looking at him, that faint sneer on his face and suddenly Harry blurted, "You have any idea how much trouble I'd be in if I hurt Dudley? Once, when I was five, he stole a toy I was playing with and broke it, and I got mad and pushed him, I made him fall on his bum, and he ran crying to his dad and guess who ended up not being able to sit down for two days? Me! And he got to go to the toy store and buy three new things to get over the fright he'd gotten."

Severus raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're not serious."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I know, you think I live a life of luxury, don't you? You see this room? It's not really mine, it's Dudley's second bedroom. I got it last year, because he didn't want it. Before that I slept in a cupboard under the stairs. Dudley's the one who's the spoiled brat around here. I'm just the unwanted nephew who got dumped on the doorstep and taken in out of charity."

"You were never a charity case!" Severus objected hotly, his temper starting to smolder at the picture Harry's words conjured in his mind, a picture of an unloved boy, lonely and afraid, much as he had been. "Albus sent a stipend for your upkeep to that pinchpenny uncle of yours, and it was to be used for anything you might need. What did they do with it?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows? I never saw a Knut of it. They probably spent it on their perfect beautiful little Dudders." Then he exhaled softly and said, "Look, sir. I-I apologize for the way I shouted at you before. I lost my temper and I want to know if . . .if we can start over and forget that ever happened?"

Severus was astonished. He'd never expected the boy to hold out an olive branch. Slowly he nodded. "Very well. I will overlook your behavior, perhaps I was a bit too hasty as well."

"Thanks, sir. Oh, and since you've forgiven me, could you please call me Harry, and not Potter?" he asked softly.

"All right . . .Harry," agreed his father. "You were named for your grandfather Evans, you know. When Lily and I were engaged, we discussed possible names for a baby, should we ever have one, and she liked Harry after her father Henry."

"Wow! I never knew that."

Before Harry could say anything else, a man's deep bass rumbled through the foyer and up the stairs. "Boy! Get your lazy arse down here and make dinner."

Harry suppressed a wince, Vernon was home and not in a good mood from the sound of it. "Must have had an off day at golf," Harry sighed. Then he stuck his head out of his room and bellowed, "Coming, Uncle Vernon!

But just as the boy stepped back into the hallway, Uncle Vernon was bellowing for Harry to get over there, before he came upstairs and taught him what it meant to come right bleeding now!

Harry went pale and scrambled down the stairs.

Not liking the man's tone at all, Snape turned himself invisible and glided noiselessly along behind

"Hurry up and make something, boy," ordered Vernon. "I haven't got all day."

Harry went inside the pantry to look for some side dishes and take the roast out of the oven, it was nearly done.

Severus observed with mounting fury the way that fat walrus Dudley and his equally obese father just sat around the table grunting like two pigs feeding at a trough, waiting for the dinner to be done, while Petunia set the table and made beckoning motions to her nephew as soon as he slid the roast onto a plate.

Nearly staggering under the weight, Harry carried the roast beef to the table, setting it down in the center, but the oven mitts slipped at the last minute and some of the juices slopped over the side of the platter and onto the tablecloth.

Vernon tuned a murderous eye on Harry. "Clumsy little oaf! Watch what you're doing! It nearly landed on my good shirt."

Harry ducked his head. "Sorry, sir. I'll be more careful next time." He scurried back into the kitchen to get the rest of the meal, then waited silently in a corner of the dining room as before, until Dudley dropped a fork and whined for Harry to come and pick it up.

Harry came and did so, and Dudley took it and snorted, turning back to his mountain of food and shoveling it in his mouth as quickly as humanly possible. It nearly made Severus throw up watching.

That child has worse table manners than a pig or a dog, and yet they let him eat at the table and put my son in a corner like a bloody house elf! How dare they! For it was clear that Harry was not considered a bona fide family member, except when it came to things like chores and such. Otherwise he was more like a servant, invisible and there to fetch and carry.

Severus couldn't believe the amount of food Vernon and his son consumed at a single sitting. They ate like it was their last day upon the earth, but even so there was still meat upon the roast when they pushed their plates away.

On that signal, Harry came forward to clear and Severus watched in a kind of amazed horror as Vernon stood over the trash can and bade his son to throw out what remained of the roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and rolls, knowing full well Harry had not eaten anything for supper.

Harry did it, licking his lips afterwards, but otherwise making no complaint. "Now do the dishes, boy," ordered Vernon.

"Yes sir." Harry said. Then he looked at his uncle and asked, "Sir, may I make a sandwich? I didn't eat supper tonight."

Vernon's pig eyes narrowed and his mustached mouth split open in a wicked sneer. "Oh, poor little baby, didn't get anything to eat tonight. That's because you didn't deserve it. Want to know why? Because Dudley told me you were mucking about this afternoon, playing with the hose instead of working. Lazy no-good brats don't get supper. I don't feed boys that don't earn their keep."

Severus felt his hands clench into fists. Oh really? Then why do you bother feeding your son, you stupid fat pudding? He could stand to lose a few pounds and all he does is make trouble and eat himself into an early grave.

The rest of the family retired to the den to watch TV while Harry scrubbed the dishes and put them away. Severus waved his wand and a plate of tender roast pork swimming in gravy along with garlic mashed potatoes and buttered string beans appeared on the counter. There! If your pinch-fisted uncle won't feed you, I will!

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Huh? Where the hell?" Then the aroma overwhelmed him and he began to eat, quickly and neatly, before anyone saw. "Thanks, sir," he muttered softly, and Severus smiled.

Harry did not join the others in the den, knowing he wouldn't be welcome. Instead he took a book down from the bookshelf in the hall and went to read it at the kitchen table. He was interrupted three times by his cousin and uncle calling for various things, a cold drink, a bag of pretzels, a bar of chocolate.

Severus gritted his teeth each time as he saw his son leap up to cater to their spoiled ways, and wished he could hex them both, they would make wonderful pig statues. Why in the name of all that's holy doesn't Petunia say something? But Petunia was embroidering and took no notice of either of her menfolk.

But the final straw was when Dudley stuck out his foot and deliberately tripped Harry as he was carrying in a mug of hot tea to Vernon.

Harry didn't see his cousin's outstretched foot and stumbled.

Hot tea splashed all over the carpet, the table, and Vernon.

The big man sprang up howling. "Oww! You clumsy little idiot! How dare you spill tea on me?"

Harry was staring at the empty cup in his hand, trying to figure out a way to diffuse the situation. But there was nothing to appease his uncle's wrath, and Harry knew he was dead meat. "Sorry, Uncle Vernon. I'll clean it up and I'll get you some ice for your leg."

But Vernon would have none of it. He was grouchy and tired and he wanted the pain to go away now. He also wanted to blame someone for it and the most convenient target was his clumsy nephew.

Harry brought in some rags to mop up the tea on the table and the carpet, and as he knelt to sop up the mess on the floor, Vernon drew back his foot and kicked him, knocking him sprawling.

"Get up, you worthless little idiot!" ordered the big man. "I'll teach you to spill tea on my best golf trousers." He hauled Harry up by the back of his shirt, and started to remove his belt.

Harry shut his eyes, knowing full well what was coming, knowing it was useless to struggle, but wanting to call for help anyway. Where was Snape? He hoped the man was upstairs, Harry didn't want an audience, not for this, but at the same time he longed for the black-robed wizard-his father-to rescue him. Where was he?

A second later, he had his answer, as Severus snarled a spell and Vernon was blown head over heels into the couch. Snape would have preferred the wall, but the couch was in the way.

Harry remained half-crouched on the floor, Vernon had released him unintentionally.

Petunia and Dudley were round-eyed and open-mouthed as Severus reappeared in the living room and strode over to Vernon, wand in hand, like the Angel of Death.

Gasping, Vernon lurched to a sitting position. "Who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"

"My name is Severus Snape, you miserable child-beating bastard. And if you lay one fingernail on my son again, you worthless lazy good-for-nothing sack of shit, I will rip out your guts and make you roast them over a fire and eat them. Understand?" Then Snape leaned down, his eyes like two burning coals, and picked up the quivering Vernon and slammed him against the wall. "Well? Cat got your tongue, Dursley? Answer me!"

But the only answer Vernon could give was a squealing whine, for Snape had a death grip on his throat.

"Severus, please!" cried Petunia. "Don't kill him!"

Vernon gasped, his eyes bulging. But Severus loosened his grip slightly, and the fat man drew in a breath, whimpering. "Please, whoever you are, don't hurt me! If you want the kid, take him. I never wanted him anyway, but Tuney insisted. Nothing but a freaky millstone round my neck these past thirteen years."

"You won't have to worry about him soon, Dursley," sneered Severus. "Because I plan on leaving with him as soon as it's safe for me to travel. Until then, you will do exactly as I say. You will call your job and take a leave of absence for a week, then you will trade places with my son, you and your son both, and do all the chores he used to. Whining and complaining will get you no supper. You will serve us until we leave."

"No! You-you can't do that, you freak!"

Severus leaned in so their noses practically touched. "I can do much worse, Muggle, Much worse. So unless you want me to give you a taste of my belt, Dursley, you'll do as I say. And I mean what I say, if you or your son step out of line I shall give you the same treatment you have my son all these years. The very same!"

Vernon shuddered, for in Severus's dark eyes was the promise of retribution and the obese man was suddenly horribly afraid. The sins of the past had come back to haunt him, and worse come to life, in the form of an avenging dark angel that called himself Harry's father.

And from then on, nothing in the Dursley residence would be the same.

In the week that followed, Harry's life improved tenfold, thanks to the new order of things imposed by Severus. He was allowed to sleep in until nine every morning, since now Petunia was making breakfast. He also was allowed to eat at the table, while Dudley and Vernon were forced to stand behind his chair and wait on him like servants, eating last out of all of them, and then only scraps. She did not dare protest much, for Snape was in no mood to hear any kind of pleas for clemency for either male of the Dursley household. Petunia herself had gotten the rough edge of the Potion Master's tongue for her treatment of Harry as well, until she had taken Severus off to the side and said, "I know you probably won't believe me, but much of how I treated Harry was dictated by my husband. Vernon never agreed to take in Lily's child, I had to spend many long hours pleading with him to agree to keep Harry here and not send him to some orphanage."

Severus's mouth twisted. "Perhaps he might have been better off there."

"No. That old wizard, Albus Dumbledore, he insisted I raise Harry, he said it had to do with some kind of blood magic, I don't understand what he meant, but he made me promise I would take in my nephew no matter what. Do whatever you have to, but make sure the child stays here, he told me. He is your blood and as such you have an obligation to your sister. She would raise your son if you were gone, Petunia." The woman's eyes were far away as she relived the one and only meeting she had ever had with Albus Dumbledore, before he had given her the infant Harry to raise. "What could I do, Sev? I owed it to Lily . . .so I persuaded Vernon to take him in, but he always resented me for it . . .and he hated my nephew. Abomination, he called him, and insisted I behave towards him as I would a hired hand."

"Why didn't you refuse, Petunia? You never had any trouble telling me or Lily what to do when we were children," Severus accused. "You telling me you couldn't stand up to that walrus, Petunia Evans?"

Petunia colored and her blue eyes flashed angrily. "That's easy for you to say, Snape! You have magic and you're of a size with him. He outweighs me and is much stronger besides. And he . . .he doesn't like women who talk back to him. I learned that the first week we were married, when he came home and tracked mud all over my floor and I yelled at him to wipe his feet. He knocked me into a wall. He likes his women to be quiet and . . .and submissive . . .I can't even get a job because he thinks a woman's place is at home and he has all the money. I only get enough for marketing and clothing. Dudley is allowed to have whatever he wants, of course, and Harry . . .he gets what's left."

"How long has he been abusing you, Petunia?" Severus's voice was sharp with anger. Yet another thing he owed the big pudding. "How often does he hit you?"

"He hasn't hit me for . . .for quite some time. His business has been going well, he just got a promotion and a raise. I'm careful to make him happy, Severus. He won't hurt me if he's happy, he's not a drunken bum like your father."

"You don't have to be an alcoholic to hit a woman, Tuney," he said quietly. "Some men are predisposed towards such things, it comes naturally to them. And one time ought to have been enough to make you leave. Why didn't you?"

"Where would I have gone, with a newborn baby? Not that he'd ever have permitted me to take his precious son away from him. His heir. Oh no! He told me right after Dudley was born that if I ever told my sister anything that went on in our house, he would see to it that I was put away in an asylum for life. And he could do it too, he had the connections and the money, Severus. He still does, God help me."

"Not any longer. What happened to the money Dumbledore sent you every month for Harry?"

"Vernon took it. I tried to get the account in my name, but he wouldn't have it. Then he told me how I was to treat my nephew. My son came first, and the freak second. Once, he caught me holding Harry a little and Dudley had just woken up and was crying a bit . . .he screamed at me to put the damn brat down and get his son before he dashed the bugger's head into a wall. I put Harry down and picked up Dudley, afraid he would lose it and do what he said. His temper is . . .unpredictable. But at least he never hits me in front of anyone or where it can be seen."

"How very sporting of him!" sneered Severus. "Don't make excuses for him, Petunia. He's a sodding brute and he deserves every bit of misery I can dish out to him. What else did he do to Harry? Tell me."

Petunia hesitated. "Severus . . .are you sure you want to know? It's not . . . pleasant. I couldn't do much to stop him . . .Vernon believes it's a man's place to discipline the children, so not even Dudley minds me much . . .I did try and teach Harry though . . .when Vernon wasn't around." Her face was chalk white and she stared up at Severus pleadingly.

"Tell me, Petunia. I need to know and I won't faint or be shocked at whatever you say. Do you forget what I came from?"

Petunia shook her head. "No, Sev. Do you forget who used to bring you ice and Bacitracin for your cuts and bruises?"

Snape eyed her and then his mouth twitched into a half-smile. "I remember. If not for you and Lily, I'd have been an outcast. I never thought you would turn out to live my mother's life, in a way."

Petunia sighed sadly. "I got what I wanted, Sev. I didn't marry him for love, I married him for his money and prestige, like a typical socialite. The only good thing I got out of this marriage is my son, and even that he's tainted. Why do you think Dudley is the way he is?"

"It's not too late for you to change that. He's your child, you're his mother, Tuney. Start acting like it. This week while I'm here, take your life back, woman."

"And what happens when you're gone?" she demanded. "Things will go back to what they were before?"

"No. I will make sure of that. Now, tell me what that beast did to my son, Petunia. Or must I use magic to compel you?" Severus demanded. He wouldn't have ever forced her to reveal herself with magic, but he felt she needed a bit of encouragement. Sometimes a little healthy fear was a good thing.

He listened while Petunia spoke of the neglect, the nights and days locked in a tiny cupboard under the stairs, the endless chores, the whippings, the starvation, the favoritism shown Vernon's son. He felt as if he were hearing a recitation of his own childhood, except there had been no other sibling for Tobias to favor, and no cupboard to shove him in at Spinner's End. But the rest . . .the rest was chapter and verse his own nightmare childhood. Except his mother had been there to ease the pain a little and tell him she loved him. It had helped, knowing that someone else cared. Had Harry ever had that?

"Were you ever kind to him, Petunia? Even a little?" he demanded sharply.

"When I could, I tried to make up for Vernon and Dudley, who took his cue from his father. It was little enough, I suppose, but I think he understood why I . . .sometimes acted cruel to him." She did not bother to mention that once Harry, age five, had come upon her weeping into a dishcloth, overwhelmed by the dreary existence that was her life, and had patted her shoulder and said, "Don't cry, Aunt Petunia. It's okay." Then he had crawled into her lap and hugged her, the little boy she had belittled and snapped at, shocking her to the core with his forgiveness and capacity to love. "Harry has . . .a great capacity for love, Severus. If given the chance, he will show you it."

"He gets that from his mother."

Petunia arched an eyebrow. "I seem to remember his father loved a certain red-headed girl for years and years before he finally got up the courage to ask her to marry him. That is no small thing, Severus. Lily always said you were constant as the north star." She eyed the tall man shrewdly. "I would say that's why you never married."

Snape did not bother to confirm her guess, she knew before she spoke that her words were dead on target. Lily had been his one and only. He had never really gotten over her death and had always wished she could have known the truth before she died. At least she had left behind a son-their son-to serve as her legacy. A son that he had not treated very well either, he admitted with a wince of shame. But he would deal with that issue another time.

Now he had to concern himself with the Dursleys richly deserved comeuppance. He intended to use this as an object lesson, both for them and for Harry, so his son could learn the value of wizard justice, which was usually pretty even-handed and fair.

So, starting the next morning, a new list of chores and rules was posted on the corkboard next to the phone. On it were three names-Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley. Next to them was a grid with the days of the week in red marker and inside the little boxes were chores, chores that they were expected to complete in a thorough timely fashion, without complaint and dawdling.

Severus had divided up the chores with regard for each one's strength and mental acumen, meaning that Vernon and Dudley got most of the heavy outside chores, such as weeding and mowing the lawn, and Petunia the light housework and cooking, but he made sure Dudley was to pick up his own room and help clear the table and do the laundry as well.

"What about Harry? What's he gonna be doing?" whined Dudley upon seeing the chart.

"Harry will be working as well. On his summer school assignments," Severus replied. "The only thing you need to be concerned about, young man, is doing the chores listed there." Severus indicated the list with a finger.

"But I don't know how!" Dudley whimpered, clutching his bottom when Severus glared at him.

"Merlin grant me patience," muttered the Potions Master under his breath. "Then it's about time you learned, boy!" Snape growled. "Now, you are going to wash the dishes. Come over here. This once I will show you, afterwards you are expected to remember and if you don't you will do it over until I am satisfied. Am I understood?"

Dudley nodded.

"Speak up!"

"Yes."

"That's yes sir to you, or Uncle Severus, since we are related by marriage," Snape said with a faint sneer. "Though sir will suffice."

"Yes sir," his nephew repeated sullenly, giving Snape a look that said it would be a cold day in hell before Dudley called him uncle.

Which suited Severus just fine, since he'd rather not be related to Dudley at all. Then he eyed the heavy boy again, noticing the way the boy was putting his hands over his backside. "Why are you doing that, Dursley?"

"What, sir?"

"Covering your bottom. You've no need to do that . . .yet."

Dudley shivered. "Please, sir! I don't want another tail! Please!"

"What are you babbling about?"

Harry had come up midway through Severus's lecture and answered, "He's afraid you'll give him a pig's tail like Hagrid did before I came to Hogwarts."

Severus hid a grin. Though Hagrid was not supposed to do magic, occasionally the former wizard did come up with the most creative mishaps, accidentally of course. He ran his eye over Harry's cousin, who was quivering from head to foot rather like a tub of Jell-O. Pathetic! Severus thought, unable to restrain the sneer of disgust creeping over his face, try as he might to maintain an impassive demeanor. He's dealt more than his share of hurt to Harry all these years, but when the time comes to pay for his misdeeds, he reveals his true colors. He's a coward like his bloody father.

"Appropriate as that is, I will not resort to such measures at this time," Severus said silkily. "But if you continue lingering here instead of going to the sink to begin washing the dishes, boy, I may give you a smack with a wooden spoon to hurry you up." The Potions Master threatened, summoning a wooden spoon into his hand. It was pure bluff, Snape had never lifted a hand to any child, no matter how much they drove him to distraction, but he painted one of his father's forbidding scowls over his face and this served to make the boys believe he meant what he said.

Dudley squealed like a pig and trundled over to the sink as fast as he could.

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards the tall professor. The new ordering of things was sweet revenge indeed!

Snape stalked over to the sink to instruct Dudley on how to wash dishes, leaving the spoon in plain view on the counter, as a reminder.

Once he was satisfied the boy knew what to do, the professor left him alone and turned to his son. "Go and get your trunk from wherever you've been keeping it. Now is a good time to start on your summer assignments."

"But . . .but, sir . . ." Harry protested.

"But nothing, mister. Go and get your trunk, no arguments." And he gave Harry a sharp scowl. "The more you argue, the more feet I add on to your potions assignment."

At that, Harry went into the basement, muttering under his breath about evil Potions Masters who delighted in torturing their students with summer homework. He returned a moment later with his trunk, which Severus unlocked with a wave of his wand. Another flick and all of Harry's textbooks and parchment and quills was assembled neatly on the kitchen table.

"You may begin, Harry," Severus gestured to the workspace he had created.

Harry sat down with a groan, wondering if there was any way he could get out of doing his homework today. He usually just copied Hermione's answers on the train going back to school. But with Snape, the evil git, standing over him, he had no choice but to do all the work himself.

Once he was satisfied that his son was properly occupied with his studies and Dudley was working on the dishes, Severus went to find Vernon, who was supposed to be scrubbing the master bath and the second bath down the hall. The elder Dursley had been much too subdued when he had come downstairs after Severus had rousted him out of bed at five-thirty to water the flowers. Severus knew the big man was probably plotting rebellion and wanted to nip it in the bud quickly.

Sure enough, instead of scrubbing the toilet and the bathtub as ordered, Snape discovered Vernon had decided to have a bit of a lie down. The fat walrus was taking a snooze on his bed, snoring so loud they probably heard him in Scotland.

Snape's eyes narrowed. Slacking already, Dursley? We'll see about that! He had posted the fact that any kind of dereliction of duty would be punished appropriately, but he had not mentioned what that punishment would be, because it depended on the circumstance. In Vernon's case . . .Snape smirked evilly.

Then he conjured a large pail of freezing water and set it to hover above the big slob's head.

He also summoned the spoon from the kitchen counter. Severus might be unwilling to strike a child, but a child-beater like Vernon was fair game and then some. Severus intended to give him a taste of his own medicine. Spoon in hand, he crept to the bed and yanked the covers off the slumbering Vernon.

The man snored on, unaware of the retribution looming over him, his whole body shaking and his buttocks sticking up in the air. Perfect target there, you nasty vicious brute. Snape leaned over and screamed as loud as he could in Vernon's ear, "GET UP, YOU LAZY PATHETIC BASTARD! WHO SAID YOU COULD TAKE A NAP? WAKE UP, DURSLEY, YOU GREAT PUDDLE OF GOAT SHIT! YOU SLEEP WHEN AND IF I SAY SO AND NOT BEFORE!"

Then Snape brought the spoon down hard on Vernon's backside. WHACK!

The combination of the screaming and the sharp sting brought Vernon bolt upright, yelling like a murdered pig. "Ahhh! What the bloody hell?"

At the same time, the pail of water cascaded over him, soaking him thoroughly, as well as the mattress.

Now Vernon really did bellow, for the water was freezing! He coughed and sputtered and at last managed to wipe his eyes, looking up to see whether or not a pipe had burst, only to meet the disapproving furious eyes of the freak that called himself Snape, who was Harry's real father. "How dare you!" sputtered Vernon, glaring at the taller man with undisguised loathing. "You filthy freaky mother f-!" He never finished his sentence for the next thing he knew, his mouth was filled with the awful taste of soap. He hawked and spat, but the soap just returned a moment later.

"Never address me in such a fashion again, Dursley. Or else you'll be eating soap repeatedly. You will show me proper respect otherwise you will regret it."

He let the other man cough and sputter for at least ten minutes before taking the spell off. "Now, I trust you've learned your lesson about swearing, next time it'll be longer and with a few swats added."

To emphasize, he went and smacked Vernon's behind again with his spoon.

"Oowww!"

"That's for your insolence and so is this," he gave the man another smack, his backside was already throbbing, and Vernon yelped, trying to cover that tender part as best he could, but Snape was merciless. "Remove your hand, Dursley, or I'll remove it for you . . .permanently."

Vernon obeyed and Snape gave him another swat. He thought about administering a true thrashing, but decided he'd save that for later.

"Get up and get back to work, you lazy slob. If I find you've been shirking again, a few swats won't be all you're getting. Next time I'll use the belt. Now move!"

Vernon paled and scrambled out of the bed. His bum was already sore from the spoon, no way did he want the belt. And the way Snape was looking at him . . .

"And clean up this mess too! How can you sleep like this? It's worse than a pigsty in here." Severus added spitefully. Then he turned on his heel, cloak billowing, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back in five minutes, Dursley, and all of this better be shipshape, because if it's not you'll spend the rest of the afternoon making sure it is, after I've tanned your lazy arse for dawdling, and then you can start on the garage. After that you can weed the flower beds."

He left Vernon rubbing his fat backside and gaping, sweeping out of the room and back downstairs.

Harry was still working on his school assignments, Dudley had finished the dishes and was arguing with Petunia over vacuuming the living room. "But Mu-u-m . . .! That's always been your job, Dad said the housework is a woman's job and I'm not a girl and I'm not doing it, so there!" And he stamped his foot on the floor hard enough to cause the china shepherdess to fall off the mantle and shatter in a million pieces on the floor.

Harry looked up for an instant, Dudley having a tantrum was nothing new to him. It usually happened at least twice a day. But Dudley having a tantrum with Snape in charge was a different story.

Before Petunia could open her mouth to rebuke her offspring, Severus had the brat by the ear and was saying in a deadly soft tone, "You will not speak that way to your mother, young man! Now apologize this instant!"

"Yee-oww! Lemme go!" Dudley yowled, sounding like a cat who's tail had been stepped on. He squirmed in Snape's grip, but the professor knew how to grab a child by the ear expertly, and Dudley could not escape. His eyes filled with tears and he bawled, "Mummy, he's hurting me! Let go, you mean nasty bugger!"

"Apologize! Now." Severus ordered, giving the brat's ear a sharp twist.

"Why?"

"Because what you just said is rude and uncalled for and she is your mother, boy, and you will treat her with respect, is that clear?"

"Yes! Yes! I'll be good!"

"Prove it. Tell your mother you're sorry, boy."

Tearfully, Dudley obeyed.

He expected Petunia to come to his defense, but Petunia only eyed her son with a matching look of disapproval and said, "Mind your manners next time, or else I'll take that spoon to you, young man."

"Wh-a-a-t!" brayed Dudley.

"You heard me. Your father never permitted me to discipline you like you deserved before, but now things have changed around here, and Severus is right, you should never talk to me like that, Dudley Alvin Dursley. After all I've done for you, boy, you ought to be thanking me on your hands and knees like they do for the Chinese Emperor! Now get out the vacuum and plug it in. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to operate one."

"One moment, Petunia," Severus interrupted. "I haven't finished with him yet. Since you were complaining and not working, now you can go and sweep the back porch as well. After you spend fifteen minutes contemplating your behavior in the corner, that is."

"Huh? But that's-that's for babies!"

"If you act like a spoiled brat, I'll punish you like one. March!" And Severus shoved the boy towards a corner of the living room.

"Mum! Tell him he can't do this! It's not fair! I don't want to!"

"I didn't ask what you wanted," Severus said implacably, drawing his wand.

The mere sight of it silenced Dudley and sent him racing for the corner, one hand resting protectively over his bottom.

Harry put a hand over his mouth and snickered uncontrollably. And Petunia had shocked him speechless! He wondered if Snape had cast a Personality Altering Charm on her. She had actually stood up to Dudley, acting like a proper parent for once instead of a doting grandmother. Oh yes, he was definitely loving the new way things were done around here.

Upon discovering that Harry only had secondhand clothing, most of it cheap and worn, most of it Dudley's, Severus ordered Dudley and Vernon to change clothes and wear the worst bunch rags they'd ever seen, until Severus told them not to. So Dudley and Vernon were now dressed in their oldest clothes and looked like ragamuffins. Even Petunia was not exempt from this ban, she too was wearing an older housedress and a worn apron.

Severus mended the broken shepherdess with a flick of his wand, then turned to Petunia and said, "In an hour, you should've finished in here and Harry should have finished at least one of his reading assignments. Then I want you to take the car and go shopping with Harry for new clothes. Spend as much as you like."

"But I have no money."

"You do now." Severus held out Vernon's wallet. "Charge whatever you need."

Petunia's eyes sparkled. It had been a long time since she had been on a shopping spree-thirteen years too long. She took the wallet and went back to dusting, humming softly.

Harry, who'd been eavesdropping instead of working, nearly fell off his chair. It looked like Severus was actually being a bit nicer to Petunia and he wondered why. Nostalgia? Because she was a woman?

"I don't hear a quill scratching, do you?" came the Potion Master's silky voice from behind him.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. How did Snape do that? He was quieter than a ghost.

"Err . . .I was taking a break. My hand was sore," Harry improvised quickly.

"From writing two paragraphs? Nice try, boy. By the time an hour is up you better have this essay completed, or else you can write another one on why you should finish the work assigned in a timely manner."

"Okay! Okay! What is it with you and homework?" Harry began scribbling again.

"Write clearly, teachers can't read chicken scratch. And mind the attitude, unless you'd like to spend fifteen minutes with your nose to a wall like your cousin."

"No sir." Greasy git! I hate homework! But Harry made an effort to write slower and neater.

Said cousin was squirming in the corner, until Snape spun around and snapped, "Eyes front and be still, young man!"

Dudley froze. Then he whined, "But . . .but sir, I-I need to use the bathroom."

Severus checked his watch. There were still five minutes left. "Go. But once you're done, you put your nose right back here and don't move until I say."

Dudley bolted from the room.

Two minutes later he returned and didn't see Snape around, so he thought he would try and sidle out of the rest of his punishment. He turned to leave and go into the kitchen when a hand grabbed his ear out of nowhere.

"Did I not say you were to go straight back to the corner?" Severus demanded. "That was not a request, boy." He frog-marched the protesting Dudley back to the corner. "Ten more minutes for your disobedience."

"No fair!"

"Another five if you keep whining."

Dudley shut up, though Snape caught a muttered, "I really hate you!" before he released the boy's ear. "Remember, I can see what you do no matter where I am in this house, so you had better not try to move from this spot. And any attempt to get out of your assigned chores will result in most unpleasant consequences." With that, Snape departed, Apparating upstairs to inspect the bathrooms.

An hour later, Harry and Petunia left to go shopping, while Dudley and Vernon worked outside in the yard, though at opposite ends and they were forbidden to talk to each other. By the time they had finished all the chores outside, both were dripping with sweat and breathing heavily.

"I think I'm gonna pass out!" whined Dudley to his black robed tormentor.

"Stop being so dramatic!" sneered the wizard. "Two hours of weeding and trimming never killed anyone. You could use the exercise anyhow, before you drop dead of an early heart attack."

Huffing and puffing, Dudley made his way upstairs to take a shower, though he couldn't make the water come out anything but cold.

Dinner was more of the same, Petunia, Severus, and Harry sat at the table while Dudley and Vernon stood behind and served. Once dinner was over, Severus ordered Vernon to wash and Dudley to clear and made the leftovers vanish in front of the boy's piggy eyes.

"Hey! What about my supper? I'm starving!"

Severus gave him a wolfish stare. "Little brats who whine and are disobedient and shirk their chores don't get supper. The same goes for you as well, Dursley."

"That's-that's inhumane!" sputtered Vernon, soapsuds clinging to his mustache. "What gives you the right to come in here and dictate to me-"

"As it was inhumane to starve my son all these years, Dursley?" Severus growled, looking the obese man right in the eye. "What about that? What gave you the right to treat a child like a bloody servant and worse? What goes around comes around, Dursley, and this is simple justice, no more and no less." Then he reached out and cuffed the other man hard on the ear. "Next time I want an opinion, I'll ask for it."

Rubbing his ear, Vernon turned back to the dishes.

"Mum, make him give me some food!" Dudley whined annoyingly. "I'm wasting away."

"Dudley, be quiet! I have no authority over Mr. Snape, so don't come crying to me. And besides, you could stand to fast a bit, a diet might be just what you need."

Dudley stared at her, temper simmering in his eyes. "I don't need a diet! I need some food! Get me some food, Mummy, now!"

Snape was on him like a shot. "What did I say about disrespecting your mother?"

Dudley howled as Severus's fingers pinched his ear again. "Ouch! Sorry! Sorry, sir!"

"Say it to her, not me." He turned the boy about to face his mother.

Dudley blubbered an apology.

"Now go to bed." Severus ordered.

"B-bed! But it's still light out! It's only seven-thirty!"

"Spoiled brats who throw tantrums get sent to bed early." Severus pointed a finger to the stairs. "March, young man. Or shall I use a spoon to hurry you up?" The wooden spoon appeared with a pop, hovering in the air threateningly in the vicinity of Dudley's backside.

"No! No! I'll be good!" squealed the blond boy, and beat a hasty retreat up the stairs, holding his bum and looking over his shoulder as the spoon followed him.

Harry had to muffle his laughter with a hand. Vernon looked fit to kill, but he said nothing. And Petunia . . .Petunia looked oddly grateful for a moment, before she took out a broom and began sweeping the floor.

Severus turned to Harry. "Bring me your essay to look over and if I find it satisfactory, you may watch TV."

"Yes sir," Harry said, and went to fetch his Charms assignment.

* * * * * *

By the end of the week, the house was still running smoothly, though not without a few more testings of Snape's authority by Dudley and Vernon. Dudley had managed to get himself grounded for two days after pitching a fit about scrubbing the toilets and Vernon had attempted to steal Severus's wand one evening and break it while the wizard was scolding his son for being a rude beast (Snape had it tucked in his pocket) and giving him a lecture on the proper treatment of other people. That attempted rebellion earned the sly man no supper and a thrashing with Severus's belt, though Snape did not beat him as hard as he might have and he did it away from the family, with silencing charms so only he had to endure Vernon's howls.

"Touch my wand again, wife-beater, and I'll break all your fingers," Severus hissed in Vernon's ear afterwards. Vernon bawled and trembled, eyeing Snape as if he were the devil incarnate. "And just so you know, Dursley, I don't need a wand to cast spells." Severus wriggled his fingers threateningly and Vernon gulped and cringed and wished Snape torn to shreds by sharks.

But he did not attempt to test Snape again. Harry had to admit that he didn't feel the slightest bit sorry for his uncle, not after all the years of enduring the man's fist and belt over nothing. He didn't think his aunt felt any sympathy either. The only one who might have felt the slightest bit of empathy was Dudley, if he hadn't been too wrapped up in his own woes to think about someone else's.

Harry's birthday was drawing near and Harry was looking forward to having Ron send Hedwig back, he missed his owl. And Snape must be itching to send a message to Dumbledore as well. Thus far his relationship with the older wizard had been . . .tolerable. Snape did not sneer at him as often and Harry was making an effort to keep his attitude in check, though seeing the Dursleys get what was coming to them went a long way towards revising his thinking about his father. He had at last come to terms with the fact that Snape was his father, even if he couldn't yet bring himself to call the Potions Master anything except Professor and sir.

The night before his birthday, Harry fell asleep on the couch watching some sitcom, and did not wake at all when Severus shook him. Severus decided to let him remain there, covering him with a throw, and making his way upstairs to Harry's bedroom. There were two beds in there now, Severus had transfigured a pillow into another bed for himself, and he quickly undressed and fell asleep.

* * * * * *

The whole family was awakened around two in the morning by a piercing shriek. Severus was on his feet immediately, wand in hand. He opened the door to the bedroom and entered the hallway to find a sleepy Petunia and Dudley standing around, blinking and yawning.

"Who screamed?" Snape inquired, the tip of his wand alight.

"I don't know," answered Petunia, her hair hanging limply over her forehead. "It sounded like it was coming from over near your room."

Dudley eyed Snape's wand fearfully and said nothing, backing away into his mother.

A split second later there was another wailing moan and this time Severus knew exactly where it was coming from. Downstairs on the sofa where he had left his son sleeping. "Harry," he said, and headed downstairs, not wanting to risk Apparition in the dark, it was too dangerous.

He found the thirteen-year-old thrashing and moaning on the couch as if he were being tortured, the throw on the floor, one hand over his face, as if to shut out some ghastly sight. "No . . .no . . .please . . .!"

"Po-Harry, wake up!" Severus ordered, laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking him. "You're having a nightmare, now wake up."

"The hood . . .the hood . . .no, don't look . . ." Harry did not seem to hear him, he was twitching and gasping.

"Harry!" Severus shook him hard and tapped the side of his face with his palm, it was not quite a slap, but it served to make the boy open his eyes.

Emerald eyes stared into obsidian ones, confused and frightened. "Dementors! Where . . .they were here . . ."

"Harry, you were dreaming. There are no Dementors here," Severus said calmly, striving to make his voice soothing. "You had a nightmare, but now you're awake and it's over."

Harry blinked, only now realizing that he had summoned Snape with his cries, and he blushed in acute embarrassment. Oh bloody hell, crying like a little baby over a stupid dream! And of course he's the one who hears me. He probably thinks I'm some kind of coward, a whimpering milksop that goes all to pieces over a dream! Merlin, why me? He fastened his eyes on his T-shirt, not daring to meet the professor's gaze, for fear of the disgust and condemnation he was sure to see in the other's face.

His heart was racing like a runaway horse, thudding loudly in his eardrums. He waited for Severus to leave, but the man remained, still gripping Harry's shoulder lightly. "Breathe, Harry. In and out. Slowly."

Harry obeyed, finding the deep slow breaths calmed his frenzied heart and relaxed him. When he was somewhat calmer, he said quietly, "I'm okay now. You can go back to sleep."

"Have you had these nightmares often?"

"No," Harry lied, not wanting Snape to know the truth-that the Dementor dreams had been occurring with distressing frequency, ever since the night when he had almost died by the Black Lake, trying to protect Sirius from their bony soul-draining clutches.

Severus wasn't sure he believed him, but the boy had seemed to have gotten over his fright, and he needed his sleep. "Very well, if you're sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. You can go back to sleep. I'm . . .I'm sorry I woke you," Harry mumbled, wishing Severus would stop hovering and go back upstairs.

Severus eyed him, considering. "Perhaps you might sleep better in your own room?"

"What? Oh, no, I'm okay here, really. I wouldn't want to . . .uh, disturb you or anything."

"You've already done that," his father remarked dryly.

His son flushed even more, taking the remark as another criticism, even though Severus did not intend it to be so. "Sorry, sir. I'll stay here, it's better for everyone that way."

"As you wish," Snape removed his hand from the boy's shoulder, only then realizing he'd been holding on to it. "Clear your mind and think of clouds in a blue sky. It will help you fall asleep faster," Severus tossed over his shoulder as he departed to seek his bed again. That was a meditation technique he often used when he couldn't sleep and it almost always served to make his mind settle. He hoped the boy would fall asleep quickly, it had only been a garden variety nightmare, after all.

Harry didn't respond, instead he retrieved the throw from the floor and wrapped it about him. Then he curled up on the end of the couch, shivering slightly, wishing he dared close his eyes and praying for the coming of dawn, for the nightmares did not come when he slept during the day, only at night, in the darkness. He could still see the Dementor's bony hands, reaching to lift its hood, and reveal to him the unspeakable face of the monster beneath the dark cowl, which no one had ever seen unless they were dead.

Another chill skittered down the thirteen-year-old's spine and he trembled, his hands clenched on the throw, trying to block out the echo of his mother's voice, pleading with Voldemort for the life of her son.

* * * * * *

Hedwig returned the next morning, bright and early, and was let into the house by Severus, who heard the owl hooting softly outside the window. In the owl's talons were two large brown parcels, which she set down on the desk and then picked up again as soon as she saw the room's occupant was not her wizard.

"He's downstairs," the Potions Master informed the snowy owl, upon meeting the bird's puzzled yellow orbs.

Hedwig hooted a thank-you and took wing again, bringing the parcels downstairs to Harry.

Harry was awakened by a sharp nibble on his ear and a soft chirupping noise. He opened his eyes to find Hedwig standing on him. "Hedwig! You're finally back." He reached up to stroke the owl behind the ears, she loved that. Her downy feathers were softer than silk, and he stroked her for a few minutes, delighting in her return and the feel of her beautiful feathers on his skin.

Then she drew away and perched upon the sofa back, allowing him to sit up and open the presents he'd received from Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and there was even a brief letter from Sirius.

Harry smiled, delighted to hear from his godfather, and not caring if Sirius sent him anything, just knowing he was safe and unharmed was a wonderful present. Then he swallowed hard and wondered what Sirius would say if he ever knew that Harry Potter wasn't really James's son, but Snape's.

He'd probably drop dead, considering how he never really liked my . . .my father, Harry thought sadly. I wonder if he'd even want to be my godfather once he knew the truth? He set the letter aside, and undid the paper and string on the other parcels.

Inside one was a large birthday cake that had chocolate frosting and HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY on it in gold letters. The card accompanying it read: Baked with love just for you, dear! Mrs. Weasley.

There was a small package from Hermione, it contained a Sneak-o-scope, the latest portable Dark Detector. Harry was thrilled and promised he'd write them both as soon as he was done opening his presents. Hope you like this, Harry. I wasn't sure if you had one. It can detect dark auras in a ten kilometer radius. Thought it might be useful. Have you done all your homework? I have. Have a great birthday! Love, Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes. Typical of Hermione to ask about homework. "Who does she think she is, my mother?" he asked Hedwig, who was napping. "That's all I need, considering I have the homework obsessed dungeon bat for a father who makes me complete homework for classes I don't even have yet."

Severus had set Harry a study period all that week and made sure he completed every one of his teachers' assignments and readings and then quizzed him on them too! Then he had made Harry go back and re-write those essays he deemed illegible and learn the answers to the questions he had gotten wrong on Snape's little quizzes. Harry felt that he might as well be back at Hogwarts. It really sucked being a professor's son, if this was how he got to spend his summer hols.

But then a small part of his brain reminded him that Snape had shown him how to cast that Healing Charm, and a few other spells besides. So perhaps the dungeon bat wasn't all bad. Perhaps. Maybe he was only half a git.

Just wait till Ron finds out that Snape is really my father. He's going to have a cow, a horse, and a litter of kittens too! Thought Harry, taking out a piece of paper from the desk drawer in the den and beginning to write a letter to Ron.

Severus came downstairs a few minutes afterwards and asked to borrow Hedwig to deliver a letter to Dumbledore. Harry was still writing to Ron and said, "Go ahead, Professor. I don't need her anytime soon."

After the owl had flown off to seek the Headmaster, Severus turned to his son and asked, "How do you normally celebrate your birthday?"

Harry was startled. That had been one question he was not expecting at all. "Ummm . . .I don't know. I don't do anything usually."

"You don't invite friends over, go out to dinner, go to the movies?"

"No. How do you know about movies?"

"Just because I'm a wizard does not mean I live in a vacuum. My father was a Muggle and while I was home with him, I behaved like a Muggle, so I know all about cars, movies, television, running water, and electricity," Severus drawled, half-amused and half-sarcastic.

"Oh." Once again Harry felt like an idiot. He should have known that, after all Snape had shown no surprise whatsoever at using everyday Muggle appliances, and if he'd been Lily and Petunia's neighbor that meant he had grown up in a Muggle neighborhood. "What?" he asked, for his father was eyeing him with an odd sort of expression . . .almost like anger mixed with . . .pity?

"You do nothing special to mark your birthday, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. What did it matter? It had been that way his whole life. "Mrs. Weasley baked me a cake."

"Oh? Then perhaps you would like it if your aunt cooked dinner?" Severus prompted.

"Sure. I guess so." That'd be a first.

Severus frowned, trying to puzzle out the boy's behavior. He acted as if he'd never had a birthday party before. "Tell her what you would like for dinner then. You're excused from your schoolwork today and I will tell Dudley to pick up your room as his gift to you." Then Severus paused, at last saying awkwardly, "I . . .have not had time to get you a proper gift, but perhaps taking you with me when I leave will be sufficient?"

Harry gaped at him. He was to go when Snape left? "You mean I don't have to stay here any more?"

"No. Why would you? As my son you will come and live with me during the holidays. That is the normal way of things, you know."

Yeah, but when is my family ever normal? Harry thought but did not say aloud. Instead he said, "Thank you, sir. I thought maybe you might've changed your mind."

"For what reason? I would not leave a dead dog in the care of your relatives, Harry, much less my own child. You are my son, however much you resent it, and as your father it is my duty to protect you and instruct you and care for you. Where I go, so shall you. We have only to wait until Dumbeldore answers my letter and then we shall leave."

That suited Harry down to the ground. He couldn't wait to pack up and bid number 4 Privet Drive farewell forever. And at least Snape-no, Severus-he corrected himself, was willing to give Harry a roof over his head and regular food and clothing, and not expect Harry to be a slave in return. It was something, anyway. Perhaps someday, Severus might even look upon Harry with affection and not just duty.

"I'm going to send a few letters to my friends, is that okay?"

"Yes. Your owl-Hedwig, is it?-should be returning any minute."

Indeed, Hedwig did return at that moment and landed on Harry's shoulder. He quickly fed her a treat, then sent her out with the letters for Ron and Hermione.

"Get dressed and wash up, then you can have breakfast and afterwards the rest of the day is yours to do as you wish. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, sir," was all Harry managed to say, for he felt his eyes prickle with sudden tears at the quiet salutation for some God-unknown reason. He quickly raced upstairs, for he would rather be whipped than cry in front of the Potions Master. He brushed at his eyes and wondered irritably what the hell was wrong with him. So his father had wished him happy birthday. So what? It was just words, never mind the fact that this was the first time a parent had ever spoken them to him. Get a grip, Harry! You're acting like a girl! As if you cared what Snape, I mean Severus, thinks or does.

And yet, somehow he did care. He cared more than he had ever thought he would.

Ron sent a letter back right after breakfast, catching Harry in the middle of reading his new Quidditch book. It contained a single sheet of parchment with a single line:

WHAT DO YOU MEAN SNAPE IS YOUR FATHER? MERLIN'S BLOODY ARSE!

Harry chuckled and then continued reading. He would pen a reply to his stunned friend later, giving Ron more time to come to grips with the fact that his best friend was now the son of their least favorite teacher.

Dinner that night was roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, and buttered biscuits, cooked by Petunia. Harry graciously allowed Dudley to sit at the table with them, but made Vernon play servant still, and kept the big man running to get him all kinds of things-more ice, a napkin, a second helping of potatoes, all of which he performed with a sullen glower, making Harry smirk. Payback's a bitch, huh, Uncle Vern? Sucks for you. He knew it was petty and mean-spirited, Dumbledore wouldn't have approved, but Severus said nothing, and Harry enjoyed the rest of his birthday immensely, eating a large slice of cake and drinking a glass of milk.

This birthday had actually turned out well, in fact, it was the best one he'd ever had, save for the time Hagrid had come to fetch him to Hogwarts.

* * * * * *

Two days later, Severus received a reply from Albus. He wished to meet with them at an undisclosed location somewhere in the Highlands to discuss certain matters, and so it was that Harry and Severus bid a final farewell to Number Four Privet Drive. Or so they assumed.

Before leaving Privet Drive that morning, Severus arose and took care of a matter that had been preying on him since last night-how to protect Petunia from Vernon once he was gone. He knew the big man was absolutely livid at being treated like a servant in his own home and forced to obey not only his unwanted nephew but also Severus. Snape knew that mere threats would not be enough to keep Vernon in line once Severus was no longer in residence and he was free to vent his spleen upon the only other member of the household that had supported Harry that past week. Thus, Severus had devised a spell to protect Petunia from her husband's retribution.

It had taken him all night, but he had finally finished it and now it was ready to be cast. He waited until Petunia had risen and was down in the kitchen making breakfast before revealing it to her. "I've made it so you'll never need fear Vernon hitting you again, or making your life a misery either."

"How could you do that, Severus? That would take a miracle."

"Well, this spell is sort of a miracle. My own miracle. I just wish I'd been able to invent it in time to save my mother." Severus shook his head, there was no sense in wishing for what might have been. Now was too late for regrets. He drew his wand and pointed it directly at Petunia's heart. She drew in a breath nervously, she was still uneasy with magic, but her circumstances forced her to accept this spell of protection. "I need you to stay still and quiet, Tuney. This won't hurt, but it might tingle a bit as it spreads out. The spell is twofold. The first part of it is a Repel Violence Charm, which means essentially that if anyone tried to hurt you physically, their punches or sticks or whatever will glance away and miss you."

Petunia's blue eyes shone. "That sounds wonderful, Sev. But how long will it last?"

"Permanently, if you wish it. I can make it so, or for years, if you prefer."

"I want it for forever, Severus. I refuse to be Vernon's bloody punching bag again."

"Good, I can do that. The second part of the spell won't work directly on you, but it will work on anyone who is angry around you, especially if they intend you harm. It's a Harm-Me-Not spell, a personality altering charm that makes anyone thinking of harming you become your friend and horrified at ever hurting you in any way. That includes not giving you money for clothes and such. I've combined those two charms into one and I can cast it anytime you're ready, Tuney."

Petunia smiled slightly at his use of her old nickname, which Lily had given her as a baby because she couldn't pronounce P's. Dubbed Tuney, the nickname stuck, until now even Snape used it. "Right now would be a good time."

Severus intoned the incantation, it was some sentence in Latin, Petunia thought, and then she gasped as she felt a slow chill creeping over her, settling into her skin, etching the magic into her very blood and bone. For one moment she regretted ever allowing Severus to magic her this way. Until she remembered what awaited her once the Potions Master was gone.

But at last the spell was done and Petunia heaved a sigh of relief. Vernon could never hurt her again. Or he wouldn't want to hurt her because of the spell. "Thank you, Severus. Mere words cannot . . ." she halted suddenly, unable to say anything further because of the huge lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. Sudden tears stung her eyes and she turned around hastily and wiped them on a corner of her apron.

One lean hand rested for an instant on her shoulder. "You are welcome, Tuney. Though no thanks are necessary. No woman deserves to be treated thus by a man. Now, after breakfast, Harry and I will be leaving. I cannot tell you where, for it would not be safe for you to know," Snape said quickly, not telling her the entire truth, that Dumbledore hadn't let him know the exact location of the meeting, only enough so he could Apparate without getting lost. "But know that your nephew will be safe with me and you will have fulfilled the promise you made to Lily to keep him safe at last."

"Good. I . . .am glad, Severus, that he will have you to rely on. He needs a strong male figure in his life, one who will teach him both discipline and honor. His only example for half his life was a pitiful one, I fear. It's lucky Vernon didn't influence him more than he did." She winced thinking of her son, who copied Vernon's every move. Except lately, under Snape's discipline, he seemed to be rethinking his behavior. But Petunia wondered how long it would last. "The way he did Dudley," she admitted with a small sigh.

"That's something that can be changed, Petunia," said Severus. "Your son knows what it's like now to have boundaries, all you need to do is keep enforcing them. Be consistent, be firm, and always ALWAYS do what you say. Never threaten, only promise, and then keep that promise. In due time, Dudley should learn to respect you as well as love you."

"Where did you ever learn about raising children, Severus?"

"I've been a teacher for twelve years, Petunia. You don't do that and not learn a little about child psychology and behavior. Also, my father might have been a drunken bastard, but my mother wasn't and she knew how to discipline with affection and firmness. Much of what I told you is drawn from her methods and a few books I've read."

"Did she ever threaten to spank you with a spoon?" inquired the slender woman saucily.

"Once or twice, though she never needed to follow through with it," Snape admitted candidly. "I was smart enough not to test her, and she knew I got plenty of lickings from my father simply for looking at him wrong, so she kept the physical punishment limited to a smack or two. But her scoldings stung worse than a dozen switches, she was a master at using guilt and making you see the error of your ways."

"Sounds a bit like my mum. Only she wasn't hesitant about doling out a few whacks if we needed it. She kept a spoon like that tucked into her apron pocket for just such a reason." Petunia pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe I ought to do that. It might serve as a good scare tactic."

Severus nodded. "Just remember, that if you ever say you're going to spank him, and he ignores you or whatever, you have to do what you say. So don't ever say something you don't mean or you can't do later on. My advice would be to limit yourself to a few swats only, if you feel that is the only way to get through to him. One or two will be enough to gain his attention and show that you mean business without being abusive. Otherwise the methods I used seem to work very well."

They had indeed. In as little as a week, Dudley had stopped whining and being so demanding and he now spoke to his mother without that annoying I-want-this tone in his voice. He was also a bit more tolerant of his cousin, since he had spent a week doing all the chores Harry used to. It would take time, Snape thought, but perhaps Dudley would be redeemed and actually grow up to be a decent individual.

Duty done, Snape made his way upstairs to wake up Harry, who, like most teenagers, hated mornings and would have slept till noon or beyond if Severus didn't wake him up. Dumbledore hadn't given him a specific time to arrive at wherever they were going, but Severus didn't want to keep the old wizard waiting any longer than necessary.

Harry was inclined to grumble and bury his head in the pillow at first, until Severus ruthlessly yanked off all the covers and vanished his pajamas, as well as leaving the bedroom window open when a cool breeze was blowing. The teenager shivered and yelped, in nothing but his underwear, goosebumps pimpling his skin, jerking his head up to glare at his evil father, who stood standing with his arms crossed, giving his offspring the hairy eyeball.

"Okay. I'm up. What's the big idea . . .sir?"

"The idea is for you to get dressed and make certain you are packed so we can leave this house of misery and meet the Headmaster. Now, I'm going to count to ten and if you aren't dressed by then, I'm going to conjure a pail of cold water and see if that won't convince you."

Harry scrambled out of bed, no way did he want to get a pail of freezing water thrown at him. Then too, he was more than ready to leave Privet Drive for good and all, even if he had to go and live with the Potions Master. He sensed that whatever else the man might be, he could be fair and honorable when he chose, and his snarky attitude could be ignored. So Harry bid a silent final farewell to Privet Drive an hour after breakfast, and together he and his newfound father Apparated away.

* * * * * *

They arrived at a secluded Highland glen, deserted except for the small stone and mud-daubed lean to off to one side of the thick pasturage. Once this had probably been a favorite spot for some shepherd to bring his sheep, and offered shelter from the weather for both man and beast. Now it served as a meeting place for two wizards and a young apprentice.

Severus, always wary, checked and double-checked the area for any dark wizard signatures or hint of anyone trying to observe this spot using a FarSeeing Charm. But the area was clean, the only magical signature that of Albus Dumbledore. He nudged Harry forward and whispered, his mouth barely moving, but his words clearly audible, "Remember what we discussed earlier, Harry. It is best if we keep the fact that we are father and son secret for now, for my enemies are still hunting me and they will not hesitate to harm you if they learned you are not only the Boy Who Lived, but my son as well. You would be doubly cursed in their eyes and should they ever capture you . . .they would be most unforgiving. So . . .for now keep the truth close and let me do most of the talking. Come."

He led Harry towards the lean to, where they could now make out a figure in purple robes seated on a low stool, clearly enjoying the bracing Highland air while waiting for them to arrive.

Dumbledore looked up at their arrival and smiled broadly. "Ah! Severus and Harry! So glad to see you again, my boys. How has your summer been going?"

Normally, Severus disliked lying to his mentor, but in this case, to ensure the health of his child and avoid some rather unpleasant questions, Severus was not going to tell the old wizard the truth. Not yet. Not until he was sure that his son would be safe from the Headmaster's infernal meddling.

"It would have been better had I not been forced to take refuge with those terrible Muggle relatives of Potter's," Snape began, his tone short and annoyed, though outwardly he was calm.

"Ah, yes, but it was fortunate that you could seek refuge there, Severus. The wards held, I take it?"

"As I am still here breathing and speaking, you know they did," the Potions Master said sourly. "By now you also know that I can no longer fulfill my contract, Headmaster, since I am now a wanted man."

That was Harry's cue to join in with, "Wanted by who, sir?"

"None of your business, Potter!" Snape growled.

But Dumbledore answered, "Professor Snape was performing a much needed role as an information gatherer, but now he can no longer do so, Harry. So I must find a different way to use his unique talents. But that is between me and your Potions Master, my boy. You look a bit thin, haven't been eating much lately?" He eyed the skinny fourteen-year-old in some concern.

"Umm . . .well, I just haven't had much of an appetite, I guess," Harry hedged, not wanting to tell Dumbledore the real reason why he was so scrawny looking.

But Severus had other ideas. What his son had endured at the hands of Vernon Dursley was unforgivable and he wished to let Dumbledore know of it, since the old wizard had insisted Harry be placed there. Let Albus see what his meddling had cost the boy.

"Hmm . . .well, we can always fatten you up at Hogwarts, Harry," Albus said lightly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Not that it would do much good, Headmaster, since Potter's relatives, besides being the most unpleasant people I have ever met, don't feed him properly. Or at all sometimes."

Harry threw a horrified look at his father. He had never intended to reveal anything about the abuse Vernon had dished out to him, but now he was forced to, since Snape had as good as told Dumbledore that they starved him.

Dumbledore looked alarmed, his eyes had stopped dancing and now they fixed on Harry, concern in their depths. "Whatever do you mean, Severus? Harry's relatives would have no need to starve him, they are well off enough to afford food."

"I mean what I said, Headmaster." Severus's tone was frigid. "Well off or not, their nephew does not share in the family's meals. He waits upon them like a servant and gets their scraps, I know as I saw it while I was there."

The old wizard whirled on Harry,.his face a mask of tragic disbelief. "Is that true, Harry?"

"Sir . . .I can explain. . ."

"Answer the question, please. Is what Professor Snape said true?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. My uncle says I shouldn't be a burden on other people, so I set and clear the table and then sometimes I get Dudley's leftovers or a crust. Or my aunt will leave me some dinner if she remembers it."

"How long has this been going on?"

Harry shrugged. "Since I was small, I guess. When I was five, my uncle put me in the cupboard under the stairs and I remained there for a long time. Until recently, when they decided to give me Dudley's second bedroom."

Dumbledore looked shocked, but Severus wasn't finished yet. "How charitable of those Muggles, isn't it?" he interjected smoothly. "Not exactly how you though the savior of the wizarding world should be treated by his own flesh and blood, is it? And that's not all they did to him. Not only did they starve and put him in solitary confinement, but his uncle-"

"No! You have no right to tell him that!" Harry shouted, furious that his father was revealing all the abuse he had endured, it was too embarrassing for words.

"Quiet, Potter. Even you don't deserve what that filthy Muggle did to you. Now, either you tell him, or I will, but either way he will be informed of the truth. Choose."

Harry swallowed the bitter retort burning in his throat and said quietly, "Fine. I'll tell him." He turned to the expectant Headmaster and said, "My uncle . . .he hates wizards and me especially . . .and when he's in a temper . . .he hits me sometimes."

The old wizard paled. "Oh sweet Merlin! Severus, you saw this happening?"

The Potions Master nodded. "I was coming into the den for a cup of coffee when Potter spilled some accidentally on his uncle's good trousers. His uncle grew furious and began to take off his belt. I knew he meant to beat him, and I won't stand for that, so I revealed myself and forced his uncle to release Potter and that was the end of that. But it is my belief that the Dursleys have been beating Potter for many years now."

Harry felt his face burn with shame and embarrassment and he wished he could hex Snape's tongue out. Why did he have to tell? What good could it do now, when it was too late and the damage had already been done? What was next, Snape forcing him to show Dumbledore the scars on his backside? For there were scars, proof positive that Vernon delighted in giving his nephew a taste of the belt for the least infraction.

"Harry? Is Professor Snape's assumption correct? Has your uncle beaten you more than once?"

Harry remained stubbornly silent.

"Harry? Please answer me," the old man asked softly.

Still the Gryffindor refused to speak.

Until Snape frowned and snapped, "Answer the Headmaster, Potter."

Harry refused to look at either of them, trying to pretend he hadn't heard anything.

"Potter!" Severus growled warningly.

At last Harry looked up, flushed and angry. "Yes! He beat me all the time, for anything and everything. Happy now?"

The old wizard looked stricken. "Child, I am so very sorry. Had I known what kind of people they were, I would have put better wards around the house, ones that would have alerted me to this kind of thing and sent an Auror to investigate."

"Didn't you have someone watching the house?" asked the Potions Master, unmoved by the elder wizard's anguish. Albus should feel guilty and responsible for Harry's plight, and he should have taken more pains to look after him.

"Yes. Arabella Figg, but she never said anything like this had occurred. Perhaps she did not know. I am more sorry than I can say, Harry, but I had no choice but to place you with your last living blood relations. The blood wards are keyed to them and within the wards you are safe from the dark wizards, safe from those who would seek to harm you. I never thought they could mistreat their own flesh and blood. Do they hit your cousin as well?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Dudley's the prince, he never gets smacked."

"And the brat could use a good smack, in my opinion," Severus couldn't resist adding. Then he looked at the Headmaster and said, "Now that you are aware of Potter's situation, what will you do? You'll need to find a good place for him to stay at until the start of term in September."

Dumbledore looked both regretful and sad and he spoke softly. "Severus, he cannot go anywhere save back with the Dursleys. The ties that bind him to that house are very strong, there is no better place to protect him but there. Even Hogwarts is not safe."

"Albus, you cannot be serious!" Snape growled, shock registering on his face. "We've both told you he was abused and neglected, and yet you would send him back there? Blood wards or no blood wards, there must be a better solution. You'd be sending him back to hell, only this time you'd know better. How could you possibly sleep at night afterwards?"

Harry was astonished. He never would have thought Snape had it in him, to defend Harry this way. He was confused and awed all at once. He looked up at his father with a mixture of pride and thankfulness. At least Snape cared somewhat about him, enough so he wouldn't need to fear being sent back to Privet Drive.

"Severus, I have no choice. Harry must return to his relatives."

"Must, Albus? The only thing we all must do is die someday," sneered Severus, incensed at the other's blindness. "I cannot permit you to send Potter back to that place. He's in worse danger there than he ever was from Voldemort. Even I would not be that cruel, much as I dislike the boy. What if someone else, another relation, agreed to take in Harry? Would the blood wards still function? Or would you have to make new ones?"

"That is irrelevant, Severus. Those protections have kept him safe from Voldemort's followers for thirteen years. They have never breached them."

"Meanwhile, Potter is dying at his uncle's hands. Albus, you cannot let that boy go back there. Now or ever. Blood wards be hanged!"

Suddenly Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height, he wasn't quite as tall as the Potions Master, but he carried himself proudly. "Enough, Severus Snape! I do what I must do, for reasons you cannot fathom. I shall put a working on Harry so that his uncle cannot harm him and there's an end to it. But he has to remain there until school starts" The Headmaster's blue eyes flashed chained lightning at Snape.

Severus flinched, but did not back down. "What if . . .I were to take him under my protection? Surely that is better than him being with those Muggles who have abused him?"

But the other man shook his head. "Severus, even if you were his father, I would still insist he return there. I have my reasons. You will simply have to trust me."

Severus ground his teeth together to keep from blurting out that he really was Harry's father, that the Headmaster did not know everything the way he assumed, and Harry would return to the Dursleys over his dead body. He sensed his mentor was playing a deeper game here, one with stakes he did not know, but he did not want to know either. There were times that Albus tended to get lost in the big picture, and treat those around him like pawns on a chessboard, disguising it under well-meaning obtuseness.

Harry listened to the argument swirl about him, and could not believe that Dumbledore would consent, after what he had been forced to reveal, to send him back to Privet Drive. Even with the working on him, how long would it be before he was back to being Dudley's servant, treated like a second-class citizen once more? The working might protect him from physical harm, but not anything else. Harry felt betrayed and deeply hurt that the old wizard he had considered his friend and defender would throw him to the wolves in the name of some secret agenda.

I don't want to go back there, you meddling old fool! Why should I when I have a real father now? It was all he could do to keep from saying that to the Headmaster's face. Only Severus's quick head shake and subtle movement of one hand kept Harry in check. Wait. Play his game to the end, was what the Potions Master was saying.

Harry obeyed. He trusted Severus.

Snape turned back to the Headmaster. "Very well, sir. If you will cast the working on him now, I shall return him to the Muggles." The way he said that last made it plain how distasteful he found this whole business.

"No, Severus. I need you to return to headquarters and I shall meet you there after I bring Harry back. We need to discuss what happened to you that night. There may yet be a way you can salvage your position."

Snape shook his head firmly. "There isn't. Trust me on that. They won't take me back, it is finished, Albus." He spun on his heel and walked over to Harry, gripping his shoulder firmly. "A word with you, Potter." He walked a little way beyond the lean to with Harry and then whispered, "I will come for you, Harry. As soon as I can. I promise you that."

Harry nodded, and again felt tears prickle his eyes. "Thanks, sir."

Snape straightened, looking down at his son with a faint sneer on his face. "Hopefully, Potter, you will remember the spell I have taught you and not wasted my time like so many other dunderheads I've taught."

"Yes, Professor Snape, I'll study the healing spell you taught me until I've got it perfect." Harry said loudly, then walked back over to where Dumbledore waited.

The purple-robed wizard ran his wand over Harry and spoke a quick spell. Silver dust erupted from his wand and settled over Harry like a cloak. Harry felt a tingle all over, then the silver dust vanished. "There!" Dumbledore said in satisfaction. "You will no longer have to worry about you uncle hurting you, my boy. I know this is not the best situation, but you will only have to put up with them for another month and then you will come back to Hogwarts."

Harry picked up Hedwig's cage and held it to him tightly as Albus grasped his arm and Apparated back to Privet Drive.

The last glimpse Severus had of his son was Harry's face, pale and drawn, the green eyes filled with hurt and betrayal and resignation. It was then that the Potions Master resolved to do what he must to keep his son safe, even if it meant going against his mentor's grand scheme. I gave my word that I would always keep him safe, Albus. And I shall not break it, not even for you. If you will not let me keep my son openly, then I shall have to resort to kidnapping him, and hiding him in a place that not even you will ever find him. There is more than one way to skin a dragon, old man, and I'm not Head of Slytherin House for nothing. I am done playing by your rules, old meddler. Now you will play by mine.

Severus paced angrily from one end of his quarters in Grimmauld Place to the other. There were times, like now, that he wished he didn't have such iron control over his temper, so he could unleash it upon his mentor for being such a meddling grandiose fool. He was still furious over Dumbledore's decision to return Harry to the Dursleys, after all they had revealed to him. Severus knew Albus was not blind, nor was he stupid, so the man had no excuse for sending the boy there, save to further some grand scheme. The Potions Master knew that Albus looked upon the fourteen-year-old as a savior, the one born to free them from the shadow of Voldemort, as per the half-baked prophecy spouted by that unreliable Seer Sybil Trelawney when she was in her cups at The Hog's Head.

Severus did not put much stake in prophecies, they could be interpreted many ways, and Trelawney had always been a third-rate Seer at best, for all her lineage and her posturing. He preferred to make his own destiny and pinning all their hopes upon one young boy seemed, to him at least, to be the height of folly. Voldemort had not come to power alone, he would not be vanquished alone. Wars were won by strategy and sacrifice, by adults, not children forced to grow into adults. This was not the long ago age of heroes, the way Dumbledore seemed to think.

He had informed Albus of his cover being destroyed and had told him that he would need to find another way to spy upon the Death Eaters, for he, Severus Snape, was done with being his secret agent. He had agreed to remain on as Potions Master for the time being, until another opportunity presented itself, and he was still a willing member of the Order, because he detested Riddle and all that he stood for and would willingly see him roasted over a slow fire and ripped to shreds by harpies.

But his first concern at the moment was Harry, though he could not voice that concern aloud, nor even hint at the fact that he felt sorry for Potter's welfare without arousing the suspicion of the old wizard. He had to wait, at least two days, before going to spirit Harry from the Dursleys, so Albus would not suspect anything amiss. He had told his mentor that after two days he would be seeking refuge from the Death Eaters in an unknown location, to return only when the new term had started. Until then, though he would have to wait and to plan. He knew already where he would take Harry, it was the one place where they could be safe from any enemy and even the farseeing eyes of Dumbledore could not penetrate the protections upon this place. No one could set foot upon the land who was not bound by blood, or find it at all unless they knew the spell and held the key.

Severus held up the amulet he always wore hidden beneath his shirt, and smiled. Soon, my son, I shall come for you, and then you will at last know the peace you deserve, and have the chance to be a child and not some boy hero, savior of the bloody world. Just be patient for a few days, Harry. Then he quit pacing and settled down in his recliner, perusing a copy of Potions Weekly.

Later that evening he entered the library, to do some research on the Glamour Charm that Lily had cast upon his son, so he could restore Harry to his true appearance. That would keep him occupied for two days.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Harry had arrived at the Dursleys, escorted by Dumbledore, and had refused the old wizard's offer to accompany Harry inside and speak with his relatives. Merlin help him if Albus ever discovered the fact that Snape was his father. "I'll be okay, sir," he'd told the old man quickly. "The spell you put on me will protect me, and like you said, it's only for a month."

"That's the spirit, Harry!" Dumbledore clapped him on the back and said jovially, "I shall see you next term at the feast, my boy. Stay out of trouble till then."

Harry waited until Dumbledore had vanished before going to the door and knocking on it sharply. The car was not in the drive, so perhaps Vernon was not at home. He shifted Hedwig's cage in one hand, wishing the Headmaster had though to put a working on the owl as well. He made a quick decision. Hedwig had to be free to carry messages, so he released her from the cage and told her to fly somewhere nearby that was safe. He quickly stashed the cage beneath a bush near the porch, he could always retrieve it later.

Then he knocked on the door again.

It was yanked open by a puffing Vernon, who nearly fell backwards when he saw who was at the door. "YOU! What the bloody hell are you doing back here? Will I never be free of you, you freaky little bastard?" His face grew very red beneath his mustache.

"The Headmaster said I have to stay here for the time being, Uncle," Harry said shortly.

"What about your bloody father-that black-robed sadistic beast? Where's he?"

"He's not here, but he will be soon," Harry said quickly.

At that, Vernon looked alarmed, he had learned to be wary and to fear the wrath of the Potions Master during the past week. When Petunia had informed him that Snape and Harry had left that morning, Vernon was quick to heave a sigh of relief, then start yelling at his wife for ever harboring such in his home.

To his surprise, Petunia had turned a deaf ear to his ranting, instead telling him that she was going shopping, and Vernon should make sure Dudley was out of bed and doing some chores about the yard while she was gone. Vernon had agreed, and as soon as Petunia had left, went to drag his son out of bed.

But no sooner had he managed to get Dudley awake, then the doorbell had rung, and upon answering the door, discovered not a package, but his nephew standing on the porch. Vernon thought he was dreaming at first, but no here was the brat, his worst nightmare returned.

"What happened, boy? Did your father tire of your scheming lazy ways and kick you out?" sneered Vernon.

"No." Harry glared at him. "May I come in? The neighbors are staring."

Vernon stepped aside, letting Harry in, for he wanted no gossip about his family. "Get in, boy!" He went to grab Harry by the arm to yank him inside, but for some reason his hand glanced away. Harry walked inside and Vernon slammed the door shut.

Then he turned on his nephew, his pig-like eyes blazing with temper, slitted beneath his rolls of fat. "This is all your doing, boy! Before you came my household was normal, not infiltrated by freaky people who think they have the right to dictate to me how I should behave in my own house. Well, no more! If you're going to live here again, you'll obey my rules, boy! And the number one rule is-get your freaky carcass out of my sight until I call you to do something!"

He made as if to shove Harry up the stairs, but once again his hand slid away and Harry was untouched. Vernon glanced at his hand in puzzlement. "Freaks!" He glared hard at Harry. "Get up there, boy! Don't make me repeat myself."

Harry hid a grin, then obeyed. Vernon followed, making sure Harry went into his bedroom. To the boy's dismay, he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Vernon had locked him in the bedroom. Harry could only hope that when Petunia returned, she would let him out. Until then, he set his trunk down on the floor and resolved to take a brief nap.

When he awakened some thirty minutes later, he found Petunia standing over him, her blue eyes wide with surprise. "Harry, why are you here? Has something happened to Severus?"

"No, but my Headmaster refused to let me stay with him," answered her nephew bitterly. "He insisted I return here for the rest of the summer. But my father refuses to accept that and he promised me he would come for me when he could."

"Good. For now, though, I think it best if you keep out of Vernon's way as much as possible. He . . .is not very happy that you are back."

Harry snorted. "Why am I not surprised? I'm not jumping for joy either, Aunt Petunia. Am I allowed out of here, or am I to be locked in here like I was in my cupboard?"

"No. You may leave your room, I will not keep you prisoner, Harry. Simply stay out of your uncle's way, you know what he's like in a temper."

Harry nodded. Yes, he knew the way his uncle was in a temper. He had reaped the results of Vernon's bad moods more than once. True, he was protected from Vernon harming him physically, but that would not keep the man from harming him in other ways.

"Very well, then. I need to go and put away the groceries and start dinner. Have you seen Dudley about? He was supposed to be vacuuming the living room."

"No, Aunt Petunia. I've been in here nearly all afternoon." Harry said.

Petunia scowled. "Lazy child! Severus was right, a few chores never did anyone any harm, and it's high time he started doing his share around here."

Harry felt as if he were about to fall over. It appeared as if Vernon weren't the only one to have changed. Petunia seemed like a different person.

"Go and find him for me, Harry. Tell him I want to see him right away and then you may do as you will."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied automatically.

She departed then, and Harry stood up and went down the hall to Dudley's room. Knowing his cousin, Harry figured he'd still be sleeping.

Sure enough, he found the tub of lard still snoozing, snoring like a pig in a wallow. He bent and shook Dudley sharply. "Hey, Dudley! Wake up! Your mum wants you."

Dudley snored louder.

"Dudley!" Harry yelled right in his ear. "Wake up! Now!"

Dudley groaned loudly and stirred, opening his eyes and staring at his cousin blearily. "Huh? Harry?" He rubbed his eyes. Harry still remained there, staring down at him. "How did you get here?"

Harry did not bother to answer, instead saying only, "Your mother wants you, so better get your arse up and go downstairs."

Dudley sat up, a scowl creeping over his pudgy features. "Oh yeah? Don't know what the hell's gotten into her. Ever since that damn bat from hell came here and made me and Dad into your bloody servants, she got the idea that it was all right to make me do all your chores around here. She had me weeding the garden yesterday! And then she wanted me to help her set the table. That's woman's work!" His cousin cried. "But when I told her that she said either I helped or I could be grounded and I told her I was telling Dad and she grabbed me by the ear and shoved me in the corner and said that Dad wasn't the only one making the rules around here any more. And when I tried to leave, she . . .she smacked my bum with a bloody wooden spoon!"

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. His cousin sounded so much like a whiny eight-year-old, complaining about a well-deserved punishment.

Dudley glared at him furiously. "What's the big idea, Harry? Y' think it's funny, do you? I'll wager y' won't be laughing when I tell Dad you were making fun of me."

"Isn't that just like you, you big baby?" Harry sneered. "Running and telling daddy for every little thing."

"Well, at least I have a dad who wants me. Looks like yours got sick and tired of you real quick and dumped you back here. Figures. You're so freaky, not even your own father wants to be around you." Dudley laughed cruelly.

"That's not true!" Harry shouted, Dudley's words had struck a sore spot, for he'd been afraid that Snape would break his promise and leave him with the Dursleys as Dumbledore wished. "Shut up, Dudley! At least my dad is a real man and not a nasty child beater."

"Don't you talk that way about my dad!" shouted Dudley. Then he got up, fists swinging.

Harry ducked the first punch, then abruptly he was angry too, and started to fight back. He was sick and tired of Dudley's lazy attitude, thinking he could start something and Harry would just sit there and take it. Maybe once that had been true, but it wasn't any longer.

His fist glanced off the side of his cousin's cheek.

Dudley yelped, then charged his smaller cousin, trying to knock him down. But Harry was too quick, and avoided Dudley's rush. He stuck out a foot and tripped him and Dudley landed on the floor with a loud thud.

"Oh, how the mighty Big D has fallen!" mocked Harry, for his cousin resembled a beached whale, sprawled on the floor in his blue and white striped pajamas.

Dudley got to his feet and lunged at Harry.

Soon they were rolling on the floor, punching, kicking, and gouging, like two angry wildcats. Harry had never really fought back against his cousin before, he had been too afraid of getting beaten by Vernon to give some of his own back. But now he need no longer fear Vernon's belt, he gave as good as he got, and then some.

Harry's fist connected with Dudley's eye and nose, and the bigger boy yelped and slammed his cousin into the floor hard. Harry saw stars. But then he brought up his knees in a move Ron had shown him, who'd survived plenty of fights with his older brothers, and kicked his cousin in the stomach.

"Oof!" gasped Dudley, and rolled away from Harry, groaning. "Bugger you, you worthless freak!"

"Better a freak than a spoiled brat! Why don't you listen to your mum?"

"Why don't you go back where you belong, Potter? To the gutter, with your whore of a mother."

"Don't you talk like that about my mother!" Harry shrieked and threw himself on top of Dudley, pummeling the other boy hard. Dudley yelped and curled up in a ball. But before Harry could do anything else, Petunia had caught both him and Dudley by the ear and hauled them upright.

"What in God's name is going on here?" she demanded. "Can't you ever learn how to get along, or must you bloody kill each other?

Harry hung his head, feeling ashamed. Not Dudley.

"Oww! Mother, quit it! Harry started it!"

"Liar! You threw the first punch."

"Enough!" Petunia ordered briskly. "Harry, go to your room, and wait for me to come to you. You'll eat supper there tonight." Then she turned to peer at Dudley. "Come downstairs and help me put away the remaining groceries. Then you can go and stand in the corner for twenty minutes for fighting."

Dudley remained where he was. "No! I'm not going downstairs and . . .and you can't make me!"

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that, you wretched brat!" she snapped, then she grabbed the spoon out of her apron pocket and swatted him hard on the rear.

Dudley yelped and put a hand on his bottom. "Oww! Okay Mum, I'll go downstairs."

"March, young man," ordered his mother. "That goes for you too, Harry."

Harry obeyed, not wanting to test his aunt's resolve, he was already sore from fighting with Dudley. He made his way back to his bedroom and sat on the bed, wondering what else his aunt was going to do to him for fighting with Dudley.

Fifteen minutes later, Petunia returned. "Now, tell me why you were fighting, Harry. Dudley claims you started it."

"I didn't. I went to wake him up like you said and he called me a freak that not even my own father wanted and my mum a . . .a whore." Harry informed her, for once able to tell his side of the story without having to worry about being beaten for lying.

Petunia went pale. "He didn't! My sister . . . a whore? He will apologize for that." Then she added sternly, "But you know better than to fight like two dogs over scraps on the rubbish heap, young man! You may stay up here and think about your atrocious behavior until supper and be glad you're even getting it, mister, because by rights I ought to send you to bed without it."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. I'm sorry," he apologized, knowing she was right.

"Then you can clear the table and go straight to bed, no TV tonight for either of you." Her lips pursed, she turned on her heel and went back downstairs.

Two minutes later he heard Petunia scolding Dudley, Dudley whining, then the sound of a spoon connecting with flesh, and his cousin yelping and promising he'd be good. Harry winced, then thought with a flash of satisfaction, About time, the brat got what he deserved!

Three minutes later, Dudley came in, rubbing his rear end and sulking. "I'm sorry for calling your mum a whore and your dad a freak." 

Harry nodded. "Apology accepted."

Dudley left then and Harry sat and flipped through the pages of a Quidditch book, until Petunia came in with a tray and told him to eat dinner., before it got cold. Harry quickly sat down at the desk and began to eat hungrily.

He hoped Snape would come for him soon, although he liked the way Petunia was behaving now. Still, he wanted to leave and go somewhere else, anywhere else, so long as his father were there. His father. Since when had he started thinking of Snape as his father and not just his professor?

A moment later, he had his answer. Snape had become more than his professor the moment he had stood up for Harry against Dumbledore. Now it only remained to be seen if Snape would indeed keep his word. Thus far, he had not played games with Harry like the Headmaster, but Harry was still unsure if he could trust the Potions Master totally. He had trusted Dumbledore once and look what had happened.

* * * * * *

The next day was nearly a repeat of the previous one, except that Harry did not quarrel with Dudley, and he did his best to avoid Vernon, who shot him evil looks whenever he chanced to pass his nephew in the hall on the way to the bathroom or the kitchen. Harry stayed in his room mostly, and that night he fell asleep and dreamed that a dark specter was reaching out to grab him by the throat with skeletal hands.

He woke with a gasp, and in the half-light of a small nightlight, found a tall black figure hovering over him, one hand reaching out to clamp over his mouth.

Harry's green eyes widened in panic and all he could think of was that it was a dementor come out of his dreams to suck out his soul. But then the figure pushed his glasses on his head and Harry could see that it was no phantom specter, but Severus.

"Hush, boy. I came as quickly as I could. Are you all packed and ready to leave?"

Harry nodded mutely, and Severus removed the palm of his hand from Harry's mouth. "I just need to get Hedwig, she's outside, and then I'm all set."

"Good. But I would suggest you put some clothes on first, Mr. Potter," said Snape with a faintly wry tone.

Harry blushed. "Uh, right. Umm . . .d' you mind turning around, sir?"

Severus did so, snorting softly in what his son was almost certain was amusement.

Harry dressed quickly, then went to the window and called Hedwig, who was roosting in the big oak tree in the front yard. She flew to his shoulder immediately.

"Okay, sir. I'm ready," Harry began, watching as Severus waved his wand over his trunk and shrank it. "Where are we . . .?"

"You'll see when we get there," Severus interrupted. Then he took his son by the arm and Apparated, spiriting the boy away in the dead of night while his aunt, uncle, and cousin slept. It was, without a doubt, the easiest kidnapping in history.

The two wizards arrived moments later at an empty stretch of moorland somewhere in North Yorkshire. The desolate country was bare of any civilized habitation, bleak and gray and cheerless. A white mist was rising from the ground and curling about Harry's ankles like a ghostly cat twining its tail inbetween his feet. It covered the entire way before them, thick and impenetrable, unlike any mist he'd ever seen before.

Harry opened his mouth to ask Severus again where they were, but quickly shut it at Snape's sharp hand motion. "Quiet!" snapped the older wizard. "I have no time to answer questions, I need to concentrate. Be still and watch."

Thus rebuked, Harry clamped his jaw shut and watched as Snape lifted his arms at shoulder level, then brought them down sharply in a sweeping motion, at the same time intoning the phrase, "Part for me!" in Latin.

And the mist obeyed, splitting in half neatly, like a curtain on a stage, to reveal a broad sweep of green lawn and a large one story brick and stone mansion. It looked like something out of a storybook and for one moment Harry wondered if it were real or an illusion. There was a tall wrought iron gate in front of them with an odd depression in the middle of it.

Severus stepped forward, withdrawing a silver and gold medallion from beneath his robes and pressing it to the depression. There was a brilliant silver flash and tendrils of light wove their way through the wrought iron and then the gates swung open.

"Come, Harry," the Potions Master beckoned. "The manor has granted us entrance. Hurry, the Evermist will not remain parted forever."

Severus grasped Harry by the hand when the startled boy did not move quickly enough to suit him, and pulled him through the gate and down the flagstone path leading to the house.

Behind them, the wrought iron gate swung shut without a sound and the mist swirled about it, concealing them and their destination from view.

"Where are we?" Harry asked again.

"At the ancestral home of my forebears and yours as well. Welcome to Prince Manor. No one will find you here, Harry. The Evermist keeps anyone from discovering this place, and no one can set foot on the grounds unless they are related by blood to me and have my permission to enter. This manor is not totally within the world as you know it, Harry," Severus said mysteriously, then proceeded to lead him up the path to the manor, which sat on the hill like a great beast brooding.

Up close, Harry could see that some of the bricks were missing and a few of the stones were missing mortar. Instead of looking all grand and imposing, it looked like a shabbily dressed maid trying to hide her threadbare skirts.

Severus pushed open the door and spoke a quiet word. "Lumos!"

Immediately several lamps along the walls and the ceiling lit up. Harry could now see a large tiled entryway with Corinthian columns. The Potions Master led his son across the foyer and into what appeared to be a large den.

There was a cozy-looking leather couch, brown and slightly worn, and a recliner and a small sofa to match. The furniture was all heavy dark maple and there was a throw rug on the floor with a hunting scene on it. Across from the couch was a large fireplace, and upon the mantle was an odd-shaped clock, kind of like an hourglass.

Severus lit the fire with a quick wave of his wand, then gestured for Harry to sit down.

Harry did so, and Severus sat next to him.

The air in the room felt slightly chill, but it soon warmed from the fire, and Severus said, "You need to know a few things about the history of our family before you can begin to understand the mysteries this manor holds. First and foremost, you must know that the location of this manor is such that no one can find their way to it uninvited, for it is not fully in our world, but exists half in another world, that of the Kingdom of Faerie. In order to get to the manor you must first be able to summon the Evermist and open the lock on the gate." Severus twirled the medallion pointedly. "And the lock can only be opened by the heir to Prince Manor holding the Medallion of Inheritance. In this case that is me."

"Oh. But if it's so safe, sir, then why didn't you come here instead of Privet Drive?"

"I didn't come here because it takes a good deal of magical energy to part the Evermist and I just didn't have it after I'd been Apparating hard and dripping blood all over, so I sought refuge at Privet Drive."

Harry was quiet for a moment. He still wasn't sure if he trusted his father, but here was better than being there, at any rate. Then he asked, because part of what Snape had said puzzled him, "What do you mean, this estate is in two worlds? How is that possible?"

Severus eyed his offspring exasperatedly, then answered, "It is possible because centuries ago, one of my ancestors on my mother's side was an illegitimate son of Merlin Ambrosius. The great wizard recognized him as his offspring, but couldn't give him his name. So Gwydion wandered, seeking his fortune, he was something of a minstrel and an herb magician. One day he wandered into the kingdom of the Fair Folk, and there he met the daughter of a fae lord, Alshiara. But congress between fairy and mortal was not permitted, unless the mortal proved himself worthy. One of the tasks Alshiara's father set Gwydion was to make a residence that reflected the status of both of them, mortal and fae. Thus he created this estate, which is half in the fae realm and half in ours. It touches upon the mortal world, but time runs differently here, and it can only be reached by one who is of their bloodline."

Harry's mouth hung open. "You're telling me I'm . . .part fae?"

"Yes, many generations removed, but you and I have a strain of High Court blood within us. It makes us stronger magically and gives us more endurance, and spells of glamour and binding come easier to us, as do potions. You see that clock upon the mantle?" He pointed to the clock Harry had noticed before.

"That clock is keyed to show the passage of time and the date in our world. That way you will always know the proper time to return there. Time here is slower, part of being inside Underhill, and while you are here, time's hand will rest lightly on you. This estate used to belong to my grandparents, Micah and Isabella Prince, and my grandfather was heir before me. The Prince line is very old, and one of the few pureblooded wizarding lines that can trace back to Merlin.

"Gwydion had a son with Alshiara, they called him Severus, though he too bore no family name, since his father was a bastard. Severus Half-Blood was what his fair folk kin called him, and he belonged to both worlds and none. I am named for him, for I too am a half-blood, being the son of a witch and a Muggle. Severus Half Blood made his own name however, calling himself Prince, for he was the son of a fae princess, and that is how the line came to bear that surname."

Severus gestured to the living area they were sitting in. "This manor is very old, as you can tell. When my grandparents lived here, it was maintained to their very exacting standards, but since they have passed on a few years back, I have not had time to keep up with it as I should have, and so it has fallen into disrepair. We shall have to do some work to make it a proper home once again."

Then Harry thought of something else. "There are no house elves here? But Ron said all the pureblood wizard families had one or two."

"Mr. Weasley is correct, to a point. All the old pureblood families usually do. . .except the Princes. Think about it. House elves are Fair Folk, and we are part fae. Do you think we would ever consent to keep in bondage one of our own? Granted, house elves are Low Court fae while we are High Court, but that does not mean we would ever enslave them. High Court fae are similar to elves, they have greater magic and are more pleasing to the eye than Low Court fae, they can also travel further from the fairy realm and are not bound by geases and such. They are the Fair Folk rulers . . .its princes, if you will." Severus explained, his mouth twitching into a rare smile. "So, no, we have no house elves and never will. Therefore it is up to both of us to fix this place up. We can start with the immediate living quarters and work our way around, it will make a useful project for you until school starts, Harry."

Snape lapsed into silence for a moment, then continued abruptly, "I used to come here once in awhile as a boy with my mother, whenever we could get away from my father, who was a nasty alcoholic. But my grandparents were very proud, they never really forgave my mother for marrying a Muggle . . .said she married beneath herself and disgraced the family."

"They did not like me much either, half-breed, my grandfather called me, and he was most displeased that the estate chose me as its heir and not a pureblooded wizard cousin. For that is one of the things about Prince Manor . . .the magic of its creation chooses the next heir to the estate, not the family patriarch. And it chooses irrespective of birth order or propriety, as my grandparents discovered when I came here and stayed for a week. At the end of that time, a medallion-the same one I have about my neck now-appeared to me, designating me the heir to Prince Manor. Grandfather was quite put out-that the estate chose a mere half-breed over the more suitable pureblooded cousin, he had favored Lucius Malfoy, you see. But the estate chooses its own and he had no choice but to accept it."

"Malfoy?" Harry gasped. "We're related to the MALFOYS?!!"

"Distantly, yes. As are all the pureblooded families. We are cousins four times removed, I believe."

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Harry muttered. Bloody wonderful! Now I'm related to Malfoy, of all people! Ron's gonna keel over when he learns THIS!

"What's this? You seem less than pleased that you have more family than you originally thought," Severus remarked, highly amused by Harry's obvious disgust.

"I'd sooner be related to Dobby than Draco, the obnoxious, stuck-up prat! Ugh!" Harry declared, horrified. "I can't stand him. His father's even worse."

"Now there you are right," agreed Snape. "Lucius is one of the worst examples of our kind. But I don't think Draco is irredeemable. Like your cousin Dudley, I think he can change, if given the proper motivation."

"No? Yeah, he's Slytherin, so you would say that," Harry groused, a bitter note creeping unbidden into his tone.

"What are you implying?" asked Severus sharply. "That I play favorites with my students?"

"You do! You never take points from any Slytherin who acts up in your class, only Gryffindors." Harry said hotly. "We're always getting yelled at. So how can you say you don't favor your own House? That time Draco mucked up my potion, you gave me detention and he got away with murder. What do you call that?"

Severus frowned. "You don't know everything, Harry. Much of the way I behaved towards you and the other Gryffindors in public was dictated by my role as a spy. I had to appear to favor the Death Eater children of my House and come down hard on you to maintain my cover. But appearances can be deceiving."

"Then you never gave me all those zeros like you said?" Harry felt somewhat confused.

"If I had, you would have failed potions. No, I graded you appropriately for your work. As I do all my students, Slytherin or otherwise."

"Well, when I was in detention with you, where the hell was Draco? Off playing Quidditch with his little toadies?"

Severus's mouth tightened in disapproval. "Mind your tone, young man. Your attitude is precisely why I gave you all those detentions. What you don't know about things could fill an encyclopedia. I assure you that Malfoy was punished as much as you were for any incidences he caused in my class."

"What did you do to him?"

"That is between me and Draco. I won't discuss disciplinary practices with another student," said the Potions Master frostily. "Suffice to say that while you were scrubbing cauldrons, he was also scrubbing and cleaning, two times as much as you, Mr. Snape, for every Slytherin know if they misbehave in my class they get two times the punishment of any other student."

"You take points?"

"Worse. I give them detention for days," his father shot back. "They beg me to take points." There was an evil glint in Snape's eyes as he said that last and Harry found himself believing the professor, much as he didn't want to.

He felt a thread of uneasiness crawl down his spine. If he's this tough on his own House, what will he be like with his son? I don't think I want to find out. Bad enough he made me finish all my summer homework a month in advance. Who does he think I am, Hermione?

He gulped as his father fixed him with a stern raptor gaze. "I will hold you to the same academic standard as my Slytherins, Harry, so I best not find you shirking your schoolwork, understand? Otherwise you'll regret it."

"Yes sir," Harry said, and bit back a groan. Why did he have to get stuck with a teacher for a father? It wasn't fair! His days of procrastination with Ron were definitely over. "I still don't like the idea of Draco being my . . .cousin." Harry muttered, returning to the previous topic.

"I doubt he would be celebrating either," remarked the Potions Master dryly.

"Does that mean he could be the next heir to the manor then?"

"It is a possibility. He bears some Prince blood through his mother's side as well. As I said before, the manor chooses its own. Whether or not it selects you as heir apparent remains to be seen."

"When will I know?"

"When the manor wishes. It could take a week, a month, a year, who knows ?" Severus sighed. "But if you become the heir apparent, you will receive an amulet like this one."

He removed the amulet from around his neck and handed it to Harry.

It was large, at least two inches in diameter, made of heavy silver with gold about the rim. It bore the crest of a winged serpent hovering above a golden chalice, with the motto Knowledge and Magic Forever etched about the design in Latin.

"The crest is a combination of the fae and wizard bloodlines," Severus informed his son. "The winged serpent is the symbol of the fae House Valinek that Alshiara came from. The chalice is the symbol of Merlin's family-the sacred cup-the Cup of Wonders. The motto, Knowledge and Magic Forever, is quite appropriate, since the Princes are known for their academic prowess and magical research. They are great inventors of new spells. And also potion-makers. Something which you need to work on, Harry. Once I have restocked the potions lab here, we can begin lessons to improve your shoddy skills."

Harry rolled his eyes. Yeah, guess we can't have a wizard in the family who sucks at potions, now can we? Don't want to disgrace the family now, do we? Gimme a break! This was not how he had imagined spending the rest of his summer holidays, brewing potions with Severus.

"Am I allowed to go flying here? Or send letters to my friends?" Harry asked then. Or is this going to be a combination of school and prison?

"You may. Hedwig will not be affected by the Evermist or the wards, they were created to keep out any evil creature or wizard, and none can enter without the heir's permission. But flying is a privilege, and one that you may have only after you've completed chores and lessons." Severus said firmly.

"Chores?" Harry asked warily. He pictured scrubbing Severus's lab on his hands and knees with a toothbrush.

"Nothing like what you were forced to do at the Dursleys," reassured Severus. "I will give normal chores, such as any parent would give to their fourteen-year-old. Keeping your room neat, assisting me with meals, light cleaning, chopping up potion ingredients and gathering others when necessary. I need to see what the grounds are like, and if I need to replant the herb garden for my potions." Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "Failure to meet my expectations will result in loss of privileges, such as flying, or lectures and groundings, but I will never starve you, whip you, or lock you in a cupboard. I believe there are other ways to discipline than with a belt or a switch, though I may give you a good swat if you get too mouthy with me, but that would be all. If I catch you using foul language, and I reprimand you more than twice, I will wash out your mouth with soap, because I cannot stand a child who swears like a sailor. But what you endured at that monster Dursley's hands will never be repeated, this I promise you, Harry." Severus said earnestly, looking Harry right in the eyes, so he could tell the older man was not lying.

"Know also that when I issue orders forbidding something, there is always a very good reason, it is never for nothing, and though I may not explain why I gave you an order, there is a reason behind it, so do me the courtesy of obeying. Any order I give usually has your safety in mind. Is that fair to you?"

Harry had to admit that it was, and certainly a good deal better than what he had endured all of his life at his uncle's hands.

"Have I answered all your questions for tonight, Mr. Snape?"

"You called me Snape," Harry repeated, somewhat dazedly.

"I did, since that is what you are," replied his father. "Legally, James Potter's name might be on your birth certificate , but by blood you are mine, and while you are here, you are a Snape and I shall address you as such. When you return to Hogwarts, we will discuss whether or not to reveal the fact that you are my son to the Headmaster and the rest of the school then."

"All right. Umm . . .what should I call you?" he asked awkwardly.

Severus looked faintly uncomfortable as well. "You may continue to address me as sir, if you are comfortable with that, or my given name, Severus, for now." He knew it was too soon for the boy to start calling him dad, nor was he ready for that appellation just yet.

"Okay . . .Severus," Harry agreed, trying it out. It felt odd, calling Snape by his given name, but much less strange than calling the man Dad.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Uh, when Aunt Petunia told you about me that morning, she mentioned my mum had cast a spell on me so that I would look like . . .James."

"A Glamour Charm, yes. Lily excelled in them. I can remove it, if you'd like, so you may see your true appearance."

Harry hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Please, sir. I want to see . . .my real face."

"Very well." Severus summoned a mirror and handed it to his son. Then he pointed his wand and reversed Lily's charm.

As Harry stared into the mirror, he watched his face blur and change. His cheekbones became more prominent, his chin more pointed and his skin a bit paler. His hair became straighter, silkier, and deepened to an almost true ebony. His eyes remained the same, however, as did his nose, though his eyebrows became thinner and more upswept.

Harry stared and stared.

It was not that his new features were ugly or odd looking, only that the face looking back at him was so different from the one he had known all of his life. It was more refined, more elegant, and it also, he realized with a sudden jolt-resembled Snape's a great deal.

Now there could be no mistaking they were father and son.

He jumped when Severus closed a hand on his shoulder.

"If you are quite finished admiring yourself, Harry, I'd suggest you get some sleep. It's very late and there is much to do tomorrow to make this place fit to live in. I would like to get an early start, if possible."

Harry reluctantly tore himself away from the mirror, feeling like an utter idiot, being caught preening like some peacock or conceited ass like Draco. Good one, Harry. Now you're becoming like Draco, all suave and debonair and stuck-up! Next thing you know, you'll be carrying a comb in your robes, he scolded himself sternly. He knew his face must be flaming.

He turned and glanced at his father. "Where are we gonna . . . sir?" He trailed off at the look of astonishment on Snape's face.

"Well . . .if there was any doubt before . . .no one can say now that you are not my son." Severus conceded, and Harry was surprised to hear a note of satisfaction in his voice. "We can sleep here tonight, tomorrow we will begin going through the rooms and choosing a bedroom and so on. For now though, this will do."

He waved his wand, transfiguring both of their clothes into pajamas, then conjuring blankets and pillows as well. "You get the sofa."

Then Snape dimmed the lamps.

Harry obligingly took the smaller couch and lay down, feeling the strain of the day catch up to him all at once. But before he closed his eyes, he remembered something. "Thank you, Severus, for coming back for me."

For a long moment there was silence, then Severus' voice floated out of the semi-darkness, "Did you think I wouldn't? I always keep my promises, Harry. Now go to sleep."

Harry yawned, only too happy to obey. He was just drifting off, his mind spinning in lazy spirals, when he felt covers being tucked under his chin and around him. But he was too sleepy to open his eyes and confirm the amazing fact for himself-that Severus Snape, the snarky dungeon bat, the Slytherin who disliked Gryffindors with a passion, had actually tucked him in! He felt something brush his hair, light as a butterfly's wing, and then he was drawn into the realm of dreams.

It took a week and a half, by Prince Manor time-three weeks by real world time- even with Severus and Harry using magic, to fix up most of the rooms they would be living in. Luckily over half the rooms in the mansion were furnished, as Severus's grandmother had had an eye for a well made piece of furniture and didn't buy anything cheap. Which was a good thing, because neither Harry or Severus had ever gone furniture shopping before. They managed to fix up the dining room, it had a huge table large enough to seat fifty people comfortably, and many strange crests upon the wall that Severus said were from the fae lords Houses.

"There's a book in the library you can read that details the Houses of the High Court, I think it might interest you to look at it, that way you can familiarize yourself with the crests in the dining room." Severus suggested.

The library and the den were two of the rooms that had escaped the ravages of time, since they had many preserving spells cast upon them. The library was nearly as vast as the one at Hogwarts, Harry knew Hermione would've been in her glory here. Severus had explained to him that it was divided by section and the magical books were further divided by category-Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, etc.-and alphabetized. But some books were deemed too dangerous for a chance wizard's apprentice or child to handle and those were kept in another section and set about with wards that would blister your fingers or make the book blank when you opened it. Only those who knew the word to deactivate the ward could read them, and Severus told Harry to stay away from them.

"There are plenty of beginning and intermediate spellbooks that you can study in here excluding the curses and battle spells. Unless you fancy blistered fingers, that is. And mark me, mister, if I find you've been touching books in that section, I won't lift a finger to heal you, and you can suffer for your folly just like a normal disobedient child."

"Okay, sir. I won't be going near them, trust me." Harry promised. He had enough to handle just with the spells Severus was reviewing with him, never mind going off looking for something dangerous. Severus also gave him a set of journals written by his ancestor, Severus Prince, to read, saying they would explain more about his heritage and the manor and that they were very interesting.

Harry read a little each night before he went to sleep and found the story of Severus Prince fascinating. Sometimes the language was a little archaic and hard to follow, but then he would ask his father to clarify it and Severus would help him understand what was meant.

Harry's room was just down the hall from his father's, it was the first in a series of four guest quarters, each with a different elemental theme. Severus had allowed Harry to choose the room he liked best, and Harry, being a Gryffindor, chose the room decorated in crimson and gold, representing the element of fire. It had a large four poster bed done in a thick crimson and gold comforter, with small flames and cats dancing across it. The heavy damask drapes were done in crimson, with gold tassels. The carpet was golden, and the furniture was a deep mahogany. There was a large desk, a chair with a plump cushion upon it, a nightstand, armoire, closet and dresser. The wallpaper had small tongues of flame that popped in and out like they were flickering.

Harry loved it. His room even had a small fireplace and a container of Floo powder, though Severus warned him never to use it. "There are scramble charms placed over all the fireplaces here, so if you try to Floo you'll go nowhere and end up with a migraine the size of China."

Severus had winced when he saw the room his son had picked out, muttering something about a "typical Gryffindor". The Potion Master's own room, the master bedroom, was done in shades of deep blue and forest green, and had a bed that could've slept six comfortably, a sitting room and an adjoining bath, plus a walk-in closet. Severus spent half a day just cleaning and rearranging the closet, and the bedroom as well.

There was another bathroom across the hall from Harry's room and five other rooms on that wing that were extra bedrooms. On the east wing, was the kitchen, which was a huge stone and brick affair, and part of it had a huge hearth that Severus said was once used to roast whole boar and deer on spits back in the days when knights still roamed Britain. But the hearth was the only thing left from those days, the rest of the kitchen looked pretty modern, with a sink, oven, stove, and an icebox. The icebox was magical, and Snape said it could produce nearly any kind of food you needed, and then store it at the right temperature. Beneath the sink were several cleaners, dish soap and sponges. A mop, bucket, and a broom and dustpan were in the corner next to the gigantic fireplace.

The fireplace was dusty and dirty and one of Harry's first jobs was to clean out all the old ash, dirt, and small mouse skeletons. The mice had ventured in and starved to death, according to the Potions Master. Harry shuddered, for such a gruesome death was awful to think about.

Often, Severus worked side by side with his son, using magic to speed up the process when necessary, but Harry was astonished to discover that the Potions Master wasn't above getting his hands dirty when necessary. He personally scrubbed and cleaned the potions lab, which was the last room on the east wing, himself until the place shone. He also set to rights the study, and kept his more commonly used magical texts and personal papers in the desk drawer.

There were a few unused rooms that they didn't bother cleaning, mostly filled with broken items and junk. Severus explained that one room had once been a conservatory, with a big planter filled with exotic flowers and shrubs when his grandmother had been alive, but the garden had since died out and Severus had never bothered replacing it. There were also three other rooms that were locked and Severus said they were to remain that way.

"My grandfather was a collector of rare and unusual magical objects. He had many that were cursed and dangerous and those are what he kept inside those locked rooms. The manor knows this, and will not open those rooms to any but myself. Not even the heir apparent can get inside them, and no unlocking charm will undo the locks either."

The manor, according to Severus, was not quite sentient, but it was aware that it was once again occupied by the heir and another wizard, and it rejoiced at being lived in. Harry soon discovered that the temperature in his room was always comfortable, never too hot or too cold, and when he took a shower, the bathroom mirror never fogged up and the water was always just the right temperature. The towels upon the rack were usually warmed before he used one and they smelled fresh and clean, even if he had not washed them yet. Small enchantments, the Potions Master remarked, when Harry brought them to his attention. Typical of the fae folk.

The laundry room was in the west wing, near what would have been the servant's quarters, had they had any real servants. Severus and Harry took turns doing the laundry, which was super easy once Severus showed Harry the charms to clean and mend clothes and dry them. "But if you ever earn a grounding from me, Harry, one of your chores will be to do laundry by hand," his father warned, and indicated the old washtub and old-fashioned wringer in the corner of the room. "Then you'll find out the meaning of work!"

Harry quickly resolved not to get into trouble, which wasn't hard, considering the only other person in the manor he had to interact with was his father.

Later on in the week, Severus went to Diagon Alley to purchase potion ingredients from the apothecary there, and restock his basic supplies and buy more herbs and cuttings to begin an herb garden, which was essential for a Potions Master. The potions lab at the manor was well-stocked with rare herbs and ingredients, but the more common ones were absent, and it was those that Severus needed.

While Severus shopped, Harry took a break from reading the first Severus's journal and went flying. The grounds of the Prince estate were vast, and there was no way Harry could ever be seen, since the grounds were bordered by the Evermist, which not only protected the estate from any wizard or creature trying to gain access in the mortal realm, but also prevented any creature from Faerie entering as well.

The estate had a small forest upon it, with the usual kinds of woodland creatures, even a small pack of wolves, which Harry knew would never venture out of their territory, and a herd of deer. Sometimes the deer could be seen browsing on the tender grass on the lawn early in the morning.

A medium-sized pond was also upon the grounds, and it had several sycamores and willows around it, and a few benches where you could sit and watch the water or fish. The pond had many varieties of fish, all edible, and Harry learned from Severus how to bait a hook and cast, and soon he was able to bring home fresh fish for dinner at least one day out of the week.

To the southwest of the pond was a small orchard, and it had a row of every kind of fruit bearing tree Harry could think of. There were apple trees, three different kinds, pear trees, plum trees, cherry trees, peach trees, lemon trees, orange trees, even a fig tree and a pineapple plant. Grape vines grew up an arbor and a strawberry and blackberry patch was next to them. Harry tried to figure out how all of those fruit trees could grow in the same region, because some of them were tropical and others temperate.

But that was the magic of Faerie, its soil grew whatever was planted in it, and once planted, it thrived. There was an odd shaped tree with curious purplish-red heart-shaped fruit that Harry didn't recognize. Snape said it was a fairy fruit called merlinna, and sweet as sugar, it tasted like a cross between a peach and a melon, though it could only be picked at the dawn's early light. Otherwise the fruit from it was sour and hard.

Harry glimpsed several merlinnas ripening as he few by on his broom and resolved to get up at dawn tomorrow and pick them, he was dying for a taste of them. He made several circuits of the house and the pond and forest, flying at the fastest speed the Firebolt could give him. He wished the manor had a Quidditch pitch, then he could play Quidditch with Snape, assuming the professor played that is. But he had refereed a match back during first year, so he must know how to play, Harry thought, wondering if he would ever get up courage to ask his father to play.

While Severus was not as forbidding or snarky as he had been back at Hogwarts, he was still imposing and Harry was not sure how far he could go with him before he reverted to his old ways. Thus far they had been getting along pretty well, and Harry had even seen the man smile on rare occasions. Hedwig had the run of the manor inside and out, and the snowy owl was perfectly content, hunting mice in the fields and then coming back to Harry's room to roost during the day.

After his flight, Harry returned to his room, thinking he might as well write Sirius and get it over with. He had been putting off writing to his godfather ever since his birthday, because he wasn't sure how the man would react to the news that his best friend had been played for a fool by his own wife and the baby he'd thought was his was in fact Severus's.

He posted it with Hedwig that afternoon, then went into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich, washed down with a cold glass of apple juice. Afterwards, he settled on the couch in the den and read some more of the first Prince half-blood's journal. Severus Prince had been everywhere during his lifetime, and seen everything there was to see in both the mortal realm and the Fairie one. His journal was several volumes long and so far Harry was on the beginning of the second one.

He heard the Potion Master's soft footstep in the hallway and quickly set the journal aside and went to go and help him with the purchases he had made. "Did you find everything you needed, sir?"

"Yes, I did, and a few things I wasn't expecting as well. I picked up a copy of the Prophet for you, Harry, and another little surprise you might enjoy, but you can't have it until you help me put these ingredients away." Severus said, handing his son the copy of the paper.

"Okay." Harry agreed, placing the paper upon the sofa and following the Potions Master down the east wing to the lab.

It took the better part of an hour and a half before all the ingredients were stored to Severus's exacting standard, and then the Potions Master suggested they get some supper.

They ate quietly in the kitchen at the large pine table, it was more comfortable in there than the dining room, which Harry found formal and stuffy. Tonight they had steak with gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans and hot buttered rolls. Harry ate nearly everything upon his plate, he was starving and for some reason being at the manor increased his appetite.

Now that he was getting regular meals every day, he began to lose that scrawny look and to fill out a little, Severus was pleased to note. Perhaps by summer's end, he would have put on a decent amount of weight and look more like a normal fourteen-year-old instead of a refugee from a third world country.

Gradually, they were becoming more comfortable with one another, and Severus had not had any problems with his son with regards to chores, although considering how the Dursleys had treated him, Snape figured Harry must consider the tasks Severus set him to be easy as pie. "What did you do today, Harry?' he asked, since he had not seen the boy since breakfast that morning.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of potatoes before answering, "I, uh, finished weeding the little garden out back and then I went flying and read some more of Sev Half Blood's journal."

"He's an interesting character, our ancestor," remarked the Potions Master, nibbling on a roll. "Went everywhere known to man in those days and learned many things in his travels." He glanced over at Harry's plate, which was nearly empty. "Are you finished with your supper?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Then I hope you saved some room for dessert. That's your surprise." Severus waved his wand and two bowls of ice cream appeared in front of them. "I stopped in at the ice cream shoppe before coming home. I figured after we've worked so hard, we needed a treat. I hope you like chocolate and vanilla swirl."

"I do, and thank you, Severus." Harry said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the ice cream sundae. He hadn't had ice cream in three months, Dudley usually ate the whole carton in two days, the big pig. He took some on his spoon and ate it slowly, savoring the creamy sweet taste.

Severus ate his own, watching the obvious delight as Harry ate, knowing that was the hallmark of a child neglected, that he took such simple pleasure out of a mere bowl of ice cream. Once again he cursed Vernon Dursley to the depths of hell, and wished he dared to stay and mete out some more justice to the cruel man. But Harry had to come first, and so he had to forgo his revenge upon the whale in men's clothing.

Harry ate as slowly as he could, wanting to make it last, but all too soon the bowl was empty and the only thing that lingered was the last spoonful of chocolate and nuts and whipped cream upon his tongue. He pushed his bowl away and stood up, feeling pleasantly full, and said, "Thank you again, sir. I haven't had ice cream in I can't remember how long."

He made a beckoning motion with his wand, and the bowls, dishes, forks, knives, and spoons flew into the sink, and Harry began to wash them. He could have used a Scourgify spell, but strangely, he found the motions of rinsing and washing calming, and so he washed the bowls by hand, the Muggle way. Severus permitted him to use some magic here, but Harry knew he was carefully monitored by the older wizard, and if he misused his magic, Severus would most likely take his wand away.

When he had done washing, Severus dried, but unlike previous nights, the elder wizard did not use magic, but a dishtowel. Harry raised an eyebrow at that, until his father gave him a mild look and asked, "Yes? What are you staring for? Surely you've seen a person dry dishes?"

"Err . . .yeah, but I thought . . .that all you wizards used magic to do it."

"I find that relying on magic for every little thing grows tiresome. It takes just as much energy and effort to do things with a spell as it does with one's hands. Magic may make a task quicker, but you still pay a cost to use it, and there are times when I think it easier to simply do a task without it. Relying too heavily on anything is not good, it is far too easy to become dependent on it, and then it's like an addiction. That's why I make you do certain chores the Muggle way, so you don't come to rely on magic for everything."

Severus had finished drying by then and stacked the plates neatly in the cabinet above the sink and put the silverware away in the drawer beside the icebox. Today he was wearing a casual green robe and black trousers with a lighter green shirt beneath it. Without the black professor's robe, Severus was much less intimidating, and Harry found the professor more approachable than before.

Enough so Harry managed to gather enough courage to ask Severus about his mother while they were both in the den, seated in front of the merrily crackling fire, Harry with Sev Half-Blood's journal in his lap, and his father with a rare potions text he'd picked up that day at Flourish and Blotts.

"Uh . . .Severus? Can I ask you a question?"

Severus looked up from his potions book. "Yes, Harry, you may ask me a question."

"Umm . . .can you tell me something about my mother? I . . .I can barely remember her face, and nothing else except the color of her hair and the way she used to sing to me at night." That was all the memories he had of Lily, her voice, the sweep of her deep auburn hair across her face, the way she smiled. The only other memory he had of her was that awful day when Voldemort had come calling, and she had died defending him, screaming at the dark wizard not to hurt her baby. But that memory was not one he wished to dwell on, and so he had asked Severus to provide him with a different one.

Severus thought for a moment, then recalled that he still had a snapshot of Lily, taken during their school days, and he summoned it to him. "Here. You can keep this, it was taken by me during our fourth year, while she walked along the shore of the Black Lake." He handed the precious photo to Lily's son.

Harry cradled it in his hands. In it his mum was smiling into the camera, or perhaps at Severus behind the camera, she was wearing her school uniform, though he saw she had sneakily braided a green hair ribbon into the side of her head, showing her secret love for Severus, perhaps? Lily looked bright and cheerful, her green eyes glowing with life, her auburn hair curling in little tendrils about her face.

"She's so pretty," Harry managed to say at last, a lump coming into his throat. "I didn't remember her being so pretty."

"No reason why you should. You were only a baby, barely a year and a few months, you're lucky you remember anything of them at all. But that's the Prince blood in you, it makes for prodigious memories." Severus said quietly. "Yes, Lily was quite pretty, but her looks alone weren't all she had going for her. She was a top scholar, she loved to learn new things, was forever inventing new charms and assisting me with potions. She loved potions, the same as I did, we were usually partners during class. She was also very kind and loving, she loved me even when I thought I was undeserving of it. She saw good in nearly everyone. There were only two people she really disliked in school, one of them was Peter Pettigrew and the other was Lucius Malfoy. Even James she found more of an annoyance than anything else. But those two she hated."

"Merlin, I wonder why?" Harry said sarcastically. "Both of them are in league with Voldemort."

"Lily was a wonderful judge of character," Severus admitted softly. "She judged me on myself and not the fact that I was a Slytherin."

"How did you two meet? Aunt Petunia said she knew you when you were a kid."

"Yes, she did. The Evanses were neighbors of mine, they lived in the house next to me. Though their house didn't look like it was falling down, because Henry Evans took pride in something other than drinking his poker mates under the table. My father was too lazy or too drunk to be bothered fixing up our house, and my mother worked long hours for a potions manufacturer, brewing, so she had no time to repair it with magic. She had also promised my father to never work magic around him." Severus shook his head. "Their marriage was not a happy one, they quarreled endlessly, and to escape it I often went down to the park nearby and played by myself on the swings. I was shy and quiet and I didn't have any friends because they all knew I was the charity case, wearing secondhand clothes, and their mothers forbade them to associate with the likes of me."

"You've gotta be kidding!"

"Oh no. I overheard a mother saying that to her son one day. "You don't want to play with that boy, Johnny, there's no telling where he's been. Just look at his clothes, bet they came straight from the ragshop. Stay away from him, son, he might give you fleas.' Ah, they were so kind, the women of the neighborhood," Severus related with a sneer. "Before long, the other local children wouldn't play with me, and so I learned to play by myself. Until I met Lily. The Evans were newcomers to the neighborhood and they didn't follow what the established folks did, for the most part. Betsy Evans, Lily's mum, came right over the second day she moved in to say hello and she gave my mother and I a plate of homemade scones. Her daughters were similar, though Petunia always tried to act more grown-up than Lily or me, and sometimes she could be a bossy prig."

"That sounds like Aunt Petunia, all right."

"But even Tuney had her good side. While she could boss us around, no one else could. And woe to anyone who thought we were fair game to tease and hurt. Once she beat up a bully that used to terrorize all the younger children on the playground."

Harry goggled. "Aunt Petunia beat up a boy?"

"Yes. His name was Nate Simpson and all of us smaller ones were petrified of him. He was around nine or ten and he used to swagger around and steal all the five-year-old's snacks and trip and push us. But one day he made the mistake of trying to bully Lily. He pushed her and knocked her down, I jumped on him and tried to pummel him, but I was too little to do much damage, we were only seven then, and he ended up giving me a bloody nose. Well, there we were, bleeding and crying, and here comes Tuney, mad as wet cat. She lit into that Nate Simpson like a Fury, kicking him and pummeling him so bad that he ran away bawling all the way back to his mother. We were all grateful to her, me especially, since I used to be Nate's favorite target."

"I'd of loved to have seen that!" Harry grinned. "Who would've thought?"

"That was how I first met Lily, she was in the park with Petunia, on the swings. And she jumped off the swing and flew through the air for about five seconds. Petunia yelled at her, of course, for doing magic where someone besides the family could see, but Lily couldn't help it. Accidental magic is just that, accidental. That was when I came up to them and told Lily the truth of what she was. Petunia thought I was cracked, but then I showed her some of my own magic, we Princes are fairly good with illusions and such, and I made a flower appear out of thin air, it was only illusion, but it knocked the socks off of Petunia.

"Then Lily started telling me how she had made other things happen too, like changing her cat's fur from orange to green and making blue spots on the wall and summoning a mug to her. Before I knew it, I had made a new friend. Two, if I was counting Petunia. Everyday that I could, I met them in the park and before long we were playing in Lily's backyard too. Mrs. Evans always had lunch for us, and I was able to count on at least one meal a day that was nutritious and filling. It was also one place I didn't have to fear my father coming after me with the back of his hand, he was much like your uncle, nasty as a cornered viper and when he drank, which was most of the time, he was worse."

Harry just remained with his mouth open. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought Snape, the indomitable Severus Snape, terror of the dungeons, had been abused as a child, the way Harry had been. But that was what his father was saying.

"Did . . .did Mum know . . .about your dad, I mean?"

Severus nodded. "Yes, she learned eventually. There were times I was unable to hide what he did to me, and she and Petunia knew. They helped me sometimes, putting some ice and medicine on my cuts. Lily used to threaten to make a dragon come and take my father away, and once she offered to let me stay in her room if I ran away from home. We remained friends even after we were in school, and sorted into different Houses."

"Was that when you . . .er. . . started going out?" Harry felt himself blush at the bold question.

Severus hesitated, unsure of how much detail he wished to go into, but then he replied at last to his son's query.

"Not until our fourth year, but yes, it was then we started going out. Which was not always easy, believe me. At that time, the sentiment against Muggleborns was running very high, especially in my House, and some of my Housemates considered me a traitor for dating Lily. Not that I cared what they thought. I would have walked through fire for her. James and Black and Lupin and Pettigrew were all dead set against Lily being with me, they ambushed me on several occasions and tried to teach me the error of my ways." Here Severus grimaced slightly, as if in remembered pain. "It didn't take. Potter pursued her relentlessly, but she would have none of him. She called him an arrogant bullying toe rag and she told him to go and find a girl who liked him as much as he liked himself."

"Ouch! Bet that hurt."

"James had a thick skin," Severus snorted. "He tried to date her several times and each time she refused, and said she couldn't, for she had already made up her mind. She remained true to me and we would have married were it not for my ruse to declare myself dead. That was Professor Dumbledore's idea, it was a way to keep myself from having to fight against my allies in the final battle against Voldemort. I didn't want to do it, and I wanted most of all, to tell Lily it was a trick, rather than make her believe I had died, but Albus was most insistent. No one besides us could know, and then I was to remain hidden until he declared it safe for me to return. Then he would make sure the Ministry knew that I had been his secret agent and brought no charges against me.

"So I faked my own death, we pretended that Albus had "killed" me in a duel, along with seven other Death Eaters, which we really did kill, and I went underground, hiding here in the manor. But Dumbledore misjudged the extent of Lily's grief and James's persistence, and neither of us knew that Lily was pregnant with you. When she decided to accept James and give you a father, Albus thought it was best if I did not return to witness it, and so he never told me until after you were born."

Severus's eyes flashed. "When I returned at last to our world, I found my life in tatters, the woman I loved married to another and had borne him a child, and I had nothing save my wits and my revenge against Voldemort to live for. So I agreed, once more, to take up the mantle of spy for the Order, and returned from the dead and wormed my way back into the Dark Lord's good graces. You know the rest of the tale, Harry."

Harry stared down at the picture, his eyes filling with tears. "I wish. . .I wish things had been different . . ." he murmured, half to himself.

"As do I, son," came Severus's quiet whisper. "She was all the light and warmth in this world. God and Merlin bear witness, I have never loved any woman the way I did Lily, and probably never shall again."

They were quiet then, each of them mourning the loss of the bright red-haired young woman who had given her heart to one and her life to the other, and had left both forever changed and poorer for her loss.

Harry didn't even realize he was crying, until the tears fell upon the snapshot and blurred Lily's face. Then he quickly blotted the picture with his sleeve and his eyes as well. But more tears welled up and he found himself choking back sobs. Not wanting to fall apart in front of his father, Harry quickly got to his feet and left the room, ignoring Severus's query, "Harry, is something the matter?"

He fled as quickly as he dared back to his bedroom, and it was there, safe behind closed doors, that he allowed himself to cry for what might have been, for the life that should have been his, and for the mother he never knew.

Severus followed after a moment, fearing that Harry was ill and unwilling to tell him, but when he saw his son heading into his bedroom, he realized this was an illness of a different kind. Muffled sobs drifted to the Potion Master's ears from beneath the bedroom door, and Severus considered going in to offer what little comfort he could, but then he rejected that idea. He's probably embarrassed and doesn't want you to see him that way. Adolescents are so touchy at this age, you don't want to make him feel even more awkward and ashamed, he thought to himself.

If Harry had wanted comfort from him, he wouldn't have gone away to his room to cry in private. Severus feared if he went in there now, he would only make things worse, but he lingered outside the door, unable to make himself leave, listening to his child weep and feeling utterly useless and horrible.

At last he forced himself to leave, returning to the den for a moment to pour himself a quick nightcap of a potent fae liquor called summerdew-the name was deceptive, for summerdew was extremely potent, stronger than any alcohol a wizard ever distilled-and Severus barely filled his glass halfway before he drank it down. He rarely, make that almost never indulged in alcohol, with his past he didn't dare, but once in a blue moon he drank. This was one of those times.

Summerdew, the pale golden liquid made from the nectar of certain flowers in the Faerie Realm, went down his throat like a silken caress, and once it hit his stomach, caused a pleasant burning sensation that quickly spread throughout his whole body. He quickly corked the bottle and set it back on the sideboard, where it normally was kept. Knowing he would be asleep in a few minutes, for summerdew tended to have that effect on mortals, even mortals with fae blood, Severus set the tumbler down on the end table and made his way to his bedroom.

He just managed to get into his night clothes before falling asleep.

* * * * *

Back in the crimson room, Harry cried until he was exhausted, giving vent to tears he hadn't known he'd been suppressing. But once he started, he found he couldn't stop, and so he cried himself out, wishing for a brief instant that Severus had come after him. He needed a shoulder to cry on very badly, even though he hated to admit it. Yet at the same time he didn't want his father to think he was a weak whiny crybaby. But Severus didn't come and Harry fell asleep at last.

But his sleep was plagued by nightmares, the old dreams of dementors circling, surrounding him by the hundreds, and he was unable to move, his wand was gone, and they were closing in on him, their skeletal fingers rustling sharply, clicking together ominously, fear spreading from them like a wave and permeating down through to his soul. He trembled in sudden agony, his throat frozen and unable to call for help, and then they drifted even closer, hands reaching up to unmask themselves and let him catch a glimpse of that most hideous face, with the lips blood red and rows of teeth like a vampire.

He began to moan and thrash about.

"No! No! Not the hood . . .! Don't look! Turn away!"

He felt the bony hand grasp his wrist and draw him close and hiss before the monster tried to Kiss him. "NO!" he shouted, then he woke up.

He was sweating and shaking, his covers had all been kicked off the bed, and he did not know for an instant where he was. Then he saw the room clearly when he put on his glasses and remembered where he was. This was Prince Manor and Severus probably wanted to shake him for being such a crybaby.

He kept seeing the dementors in his mind, the way they reached out to him, wraiths from night's dark tomb, cold as the grave that had spawned them, and suddenly he was trembling from head to foot, shaking like a leaf. He hugged his knees to his chest, wondering if he dared to wake up his father. He glanced at the clock by his bed, it read 1:30 AM.

Harry knew from experience that he would never be able to get back to sleep without some kind of help, and he crept down the hall to the den, still hearing Lily's dying scream in his head. He wanted to get a glass of milk and warm it up to drink. Someone had mentioned once that warm milk helped you go to sleep, Harry prayed it was so.

But on his way into the kitchen, he spied the tumbler and the half-empty bottle of summerdew on the sideboard. Now there was something else that the adults were always going on about-drinking. He recalled hazily that Aunt Petunia had said that a glass of sherry-a nightcap, she called it--helped you sleep.

God, he needed the sleep! And release from the awful dreams!

Without thinking it through, yet knowing in the back of his mind, he should not touch this alcohol, that he was not old enough to drink responsibly, that it was probably a huge mistake to do so, Harry picked up the small bottle of fae cordial. But when he uncorked the bottle, the smell that wafted out was just like home. It smelled of lemons and peaches and a hint of strawberries, of fields golden with corn and hay and cloudless days filled with laughter and sunshine.

He poured an entire glass full and then he drank it down, unaware of the side-effects. It tasted so good! No wonder people drank till they were drunk, if this is what alcohol tasted like. He poured himself another glass, and drank that too, finishing the bottle. Now his eyelids were growing extremely heavy and he had to shut them. No, not here, Harry. Get to the couch, man, quick! urged his conscience.

He just managed to stagger over to the couch before passing out.

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.

Harry had never known that doing laundry could be so much work, but it was. That was part of his punishment chores, and just washing the few sets of clothes and the sheets using the old-fashioned ringer washing machine and the scrub board was exhausting. The clothes felt like they weighed over a hundred pounds when they were wet and trying to scrub stains off without some kind of stain remover was hell.

His back and arms ached from turning the crank on the washing machine and his hands were red from repeated immersion in the hot soapy water. And he would have to do this all over again a few days from now too. The young wizard groaned and vowed he'd never touch a drop of alcohol again. Never!

In addition to the laundry, Harry also dusted and polished, washed and swept the floors, cleaned the bathrooms, and vacuumed the carpet. Luckily, neither he or Severus was a pig, so he didn't have to straighten up all that much.

Then of course there was the blasted three-foot essay Snape was making him write. Harry detested writing essays, he never had good penmanship, writing with a quill was messy and he'd never quite mastered the art of it, having never really had someone show him how it was done. He didn't mind reading through the books Severus had recommended, most of them manuals from AA, and now he understood a little better why Severus had flipped out on him for getting drunk on summerdew. The descendants of known alcoholics had the pre-disposition to become alcoholics themselves, and that was not something Harry aspired to.

But between the essay, he only had a third of it done, and this blasted laundry, Harry felt as though the five days of his grounding lasted forever.

Little did he know that Severus had tampered with the timestream in order to give himself and his son more time to adjust to one another. The hourglass-shaped clock upon the mantle was more than just a clock that recorded the time passing between the two realms. It could also make time slow to a crawl in the manor, so that minutes passed like hours and days became weeks and weeks months. Severus could also alter time like a Timeturner, sending them back to the beginning of the summer in the real world, giving them three extra months in real time as well, with no chance of a paradox occurring, since neither he or Harry would be leaving the manor. The clock would automatically return them to the time Severus had first used the hourglass in, upon request, and it was totally accurate, so there was no chance of becoming lost in the timestream.

But such measures could only be used a finite number of times, the limit was twelve, and after that the clock would not perform those functions until a new heir ascended to rule the manor. It was a way the fae protected themselves from an unscrupulous human trying to tamper with time indefinitely, and though you could make time run backwards, you could not alter events within that timeline, so whatever had occurred already would happen again, over and over, and the heir could only observe events, not change them.

Slowed down and turned back, time in the manor was just what Severus wanted, giving him the necessary time to forge a relationship with his son that was not so antagonistic, that was normal, or at least as normal as Severus could make it. Much of the tension between the two had been the Potion Master's doing, for he had an irrational prejudice towards Harry because he was James's son, and he had treated the boy unfairly on a number of occasions at school. Once Severus knew the truth, however, and removed the charm upon Harry, seeing for himself that the boy was indeed his own son and not his rival's, it made accepting Harry much easier.

Severus had vowed long ago to never treat his children the way Tobias had treated him, back in the halcyon days after graduation, when Lily and he had discussed having a family together. "I never want any child of mine to be afraid of me, the way I was of my father." He had told Lily earnestly.

Yet that was exactly what he had done that morning, upon discovering his son drunk on the couch. He had made Harry cringe and shiver, terrifying him with his explosive temper. But no longer. He knew how to control his emotions, he had learned how years ago, when he had first become Dumbledore's agent, so he did not show the disgust and loathing he felt towards the Death Eaters and their practices. He resolved to reinstate that control, so Harry need not fear him. Time, he thought, would do the rest.

Harry had just finished ringing out the last shirt and setting it to dry outside on the clothesline he'd hung between two oak trees, when he looked up to find Severus regarding him.

"Sir?"

"Is the laundry done?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you finished reorganizing the pantry as well?"

"Done, sir."

"Your essay?"

Harry sighed. "I-I've started it. But it's not finished yet, sir."

"Why? I looked over the rough copy you had on Monday, and corrected what mistakes were in it. Today is Wednesday. What's taking you so long?"

Harry bit his lip. How could he admit to Severus that the reason he wasn't done was because he couldn't write legibly with a quill? The man already thought he was slightly stupid in potions, he would probably disown Harry for still not being able to write with a quill after three years. The truth was, he got Hermione to copy over most of his assignments in school.

"I'll finish it this evening, sir," he heard himself saying and then he wanted to smack himself in the head. Idiot! Tonight? How can you finish it by tonight? You can barely write one sentence without half a dozen ink blots. How can you finish a whole essay like that?

"I'll be waiting to read it, Harry," was all Severus said then. "Come inside when you're done here, lunch is on the table."

Harry acknowledged the command with a brief nod, then finished pinning up the shirts and towels in the basket. He was ravenous, but his hunger abated somewhat when he thought of the bloody essay he still had to finish, and now he had a deadline too.

But once he entered the large kitchen and saw the huge sandwich Severus had made for him, his appetite returned with a vengeance and he devoured every crumb. Thirteen years of living with the Dursleys had taught him to never pass up food when offered. He washed the sandwich down with a large glass of milk, Severus usually served him milk for at least one meal, claiming he needed the vitamins and calcium. He also made Harry drink a rather nasty-tasting Nutrient Potion each week, to replace the deficient amino acids and other essential minerals and vitamins he lacked after being half-starved for so many years.

"That's why you're small for your age, Harry. Because you were nutritionally deprived when you were a small child, it stunted your growth somewhat. But I can correct some of the damage with a few potions, though you probably won't ever be as tall as you should be."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, except a quiet, "I understand, sir." He had suspected that the reason he hadn't gotten a growth spurt like Ron yet had something to do with the way Uncle Vernon starved him. But if Severus could reverse even a portion of the damage, Harry would be grateful. He hated being so short, sometimes people thought he was a first year, before they spotted the scar, of course.

So he finished his milk and thought about taking a shower before starting in on the accursed essay. He wished Hermione were here now, he'd pay her twenty Galleons to write his essay so Severus wouldn't see what awful penmanship he had. He'd written the rough draft in normal Muggle pen on paper, not parchment the way Severus told him he wanted the finished product.

Thus far he hadn't heard from either of his friends or Sirius, and he was beginning to think they'd forgotten him. Or perhaps Sirius was so disgusted with the fact that Harry was Severus's son that he didn't care to speak to Harry any more.

The teenager heaved a sigh and went towards the bathroom. He saw no sign of Severus, and he assumed Snape had gone to the lab again to brew up some more potions. He took a long hot shower, at least here he was allowed to have hot water to wash with, then he dressed in some of his more worn clothes and tried to write the blasted essay.

Finally, after several huge blots, a hole, and endless crossouts, Harry threw the crumpled parchment into the fireplace and swore softly. "This bloody sucks! I'm never going to finish this before tonight and then he'll get all snarky and pissed off and probably make me pick weeds with my teeth or something. I hate essays! Whoever invented them ought to die a slow and painful death. They're nothing but torture and my father is the ultimate torture master for making me write one."

He yanked a fresh piece of parchment out of his bag and re-dipped his quill, wishing this were over with.

Two hours later, a dozen parchment balls were crackling merrily in the fireplace and Harry's hands were stained with ink and he was about to punch a hole in the wall and howl. It was hopeless. There was no way he could finish the essay within the time frame. He threw down his quill and stomped about the room, wishing he were four and could have thrown himself on the floor and had a bloody temper tantrum the way Dudley used to, screaming and kicking like a possessed thing.

Ha! If Severus ever saw that, he'd have me committed.

"Harry! Supper is waiting!" he heard Severus's magically amplified voice calling him.

"Coming, sir!" he shouted back, since he didn't know that spell.

After dinner, which was roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with a side of peas and pearl onions, Harry returned to his room for one last attempt. This one was marginally better than the last twelve copies, but he knew Severus would not be pleased. Still, it was the best he could do.

He found Severus reading in the den and handed him the essay. "I'm finished, sir."

Severus looked up, set down the magazine he was perusing, and examined the essay. Sure enough, the Potion Master's face clouded over and he said sharply, "I can barely read this, young man. What did you do, upset the inkwell?"

Harry's face burned. "No, sir. I . . .Never mind. I-I'll do it over."

"You have worse penmanship than a Healer," Severus continued, scanning the rest of the essay in disapproval. "And that's saying something."

Suddenly, Harry was fed up with the whole thing and he blurted, "Well, excuse me all to blazes if I never learned how to write with a damn quill, okay? I spent all afternoon trying to copy it over neatly and that's the best I could do, sir."

Horrified over what he'd said, Harry turned and ran out of the room. Me and my big fat mouth! Why did I have to say that? Why? He headed back to his room, not wanting to see the sneer on his father's face. He wished he could dig a hole and fall into it.

Five minutes later, he heard a tap on his door. "May I come in?"

Harry wondered what his father would do if he said no. Probably break the door down and come in uninvited. "Yes."

Severus entered and came to stand before his son, who was avoiding his gaze. "Look at me. I've told you before, I won't hold a conversation with the back of your head. Now, what do you mean, you never learned to write with a quill? You spent three years at Hogwarts where all we use are quills and parchment. How did you manage to complete your assignments if you could barely write?"

Harry bit his lip, then mumbled, "Hermione helped me."

"Excuse me? Speak up, and quit mumbling, you sound like you've got a frog stuck in your throat."

Harry repeated what he had said. "Hermione helped me, she copied all my assignments onto parchment with a quill herself, but she didn't write as neatly as she usually does, so no one ever guessed it wasn't me." 

"Miss Granger did all your assignments for you, I take it?"

"Yes, sir."

Severus shook his head. "If you were having trouble, why didn't you go to a teacher for assistance, Harry?"

"Because. . .everyone else already knew how to write with quills. I . . .I was already famous for being the Boy Who Lived, I didn't want to be known as the Boy Who Couldn't Write too."

"Ah," Severus said in understanding. Adolescent pride. He could understand it, since he'd had more than his share of it. "You feared the taunts of your peers. Harry, many students who come to Hogwarts don't know how to write with quills when they arrive. That's why we organize a penmanship class for the Muggleborns. It works quite well, in my opinion. All the professors take turns teaching a class."

"Even you?"

"Yes. Now, where are you having trouble?"

"Part of it's my pen. It keeps dripping and splattering ink everywhere. And I can't make it write in small letters."

"Let me see your pen," Severus ordered.

Wordlessly, Harry handed it to him.

"No wonder you can't write with this. The nub is split and worn. Here, where's your quill trimmer?"

Harry handed him the small ultra sharp knife he was supposed to use for sharpening quills.

"See, you must trim the quill on an angle, like so." Severus demonstrated. "Then you must gently dip the quill inside the inkwell and tap off the excess ink. There, now try."

Harry took the newly trimmed quill and tried writing a sentence with it. It was much easier to write with now, but his letters wobbled and straggled across the parchment. He scowled down at the parchment, frustrated and humiliated. "It's no good. It looks like a sick chicken wrote it."

"True, but not bad for a first attempt. You need practice. Hours of it. Set this aside for now. You may return to it when you have gained the necessary skill to write legibly. For now, I want you to use this primer and these scraps."

Severus snapped his fingers and a small leather bound book appeared on the desk, along with various scraps of parchment. "Inside the primer you will find the alphabet. Copy it onto the scraps, twenty-five times per letter. In order to learn how to write properly, you must go back to basics."

"I feel like I'm back in primary school," Harry grumbled.

"In a way, you are, Mr. Snape. And none of this would be necessary now had you informed a teacher of your problem when you were a first year. Although, the Headmaster knew you were raised by Muggles, so why he did not see fit to inquire if you could use a quill is beyond me. Or Professor McGonagall, she should have asked, instead of being so preoccupied with finding a new Seeker for her House." Severus's mouth tightened with disapproval.

"It wasn't her fault! How was she supposed to know?"

"By giving her new students a writing test, like I do." Severus replied smoothly. "All my newly Sorted Slytherins are required to pass a writing exam. Those who fail I send to penmanship classes. But I suppose the Gryffindors are too good for such mundane things and get by on patronage alone."

Harry was about to retort to the professor's scathing tone, then shut his mouth. Because much as he hated to admit it, Severus was right. McGonagall should have known, she was aware of his background as well as anyone.

"No matter, it is something you can work on over the break. Perhaps by summer's end you will have managed to write legibly, if you practice as I've told you."

"You just want me to write the alphabet?"

"For three days, yes. Then I want you to write your name, also twenty-five times. Once I've examined them, you can start on some practice sentences." Severus declared briskly. "You may begin."

"Yes, sir," Harry groaned resentfully. This was typical of his life. Get rescued from the Dursleys and end up with a perfectionist professor who made him practice the alphabet until he fell asleep.

"Mind your tone, boy," his father warned. "This is for your own benefit, now quit acting like a spoiled brat and do what I told you."

"I wasn't!" his son exclaimed indignantly.

Severus eyed him sternly. "Don't contradict me. Start writing. That's the only way you'll improve."

Harry obeyed, not wanting to get Severus angry with him yet again and earn himself more punishments. He opened the primer to the first page and began to copy out the cursive alphabet onto a scrap.

Severus remained observing for a few minutes, before he plucked the quill from Harry's hand and said, "You're holding it wrong, boy. Like this, thumb here," he positioned Harry's finger. "And index finger here, and lean the quill slightly. There! You see what a tight line that makes?"

Harry nodded, then took back the quill and held it the way the professor showed him. It felt much better in his hand that way.

Severus watched him form a few A, B, C's before leaving Harry alone and returning to the den to read his magazine. He was still mightily annoyed that such blatant negligence had occurred right under the noses of Albus and Minerva. Had Harry been Sorted into Slytherin . . .there would be a different story to tell.

+ + ++ + + +

By the time Harry had served the full period of his grounding, he had gained a new respect for those who could write well with quills, housewives in the eighteen hundreds who did laundry by hand every week, and his penmanship had improved tenfold. Now he could actually read what he wrote, and though the lessons were boring, he kept doing them, because the skill was an important one to acquire.

In addition to practicing his penmanship, Harry was also working with his father in the lab, as Severus sought to instill in his stubborn son the proper methods and skills of potion making. Here, the Potions Master was his usual exacting perfectionist self, and he did not spare Harry the rough edge of his tongue when the boy made foolish mistakes.

But he also helped Harry correct those mistakes and showed him where he went wrong, so Harry learned by example. It was then that Harry discovered the reason why Severus was such a perfectionist as a teacher. Every potion ingredient must be precisely measured, chopped, ground, and stirred before being combined, otherwise the whole solution would be thrown off and all the time and effort ruined.

Severus set Harry to grinding several kinds of roots and leaves to powder before letting him near a cauldron, and then he made him go back to the very first potion they'd ever been assigned at Hogwarts-a Boil Cure-and make it from scratch.

Harry was a little insulted, he'd made lots more complicated potions than this, but he did as the Potions Master wished and made the solution. When the potion turned out correctly, Severus nodded and said only, "Very good, Mr. Snape. Now bottle it and start chopping up those pickled rat livers. I'm going to need them for a Beast Tongue Draft."

"A what?"

"A Beast Tongue Draft. It's a potion that gives you the ability to speak with all animals in their own language for three hours. Well? Quit dawdling, boy."

Harry quickly decanted his potion into a beaker and labeled it by name and date. Then he set in on the shelf in the potions storeroom and returned to the lab to get started on yet another disgusting assignment.

Still, he had to admit that Severus's methods did get good results. They made several potions over the next week and Harry was impressed in spite of himself at the way Severus could make three different drafts at once and never lose track of where he was in the process of each of them. He could brew from memory and usually did, only consulting a text if the potion were a particularly complicated one.

"Never hesitate to double check yourself, if you are uncertain about a measurement or an ingredient," he instructed one day. "Even the best potion makers can make mistakes."

"Including you?" Harry teased.

Severus nodded curtly. "You should be checking and re-checking your instructions before you ever put an ingredient into your cauldron, Mr. Snape. That way there's less chance of you making a mistake that could result in an explosion, like that nitwit Longbottom. He never checks anything, but relies on the ineptitude of his lab partner, Dean Thomas. Small wonder he's melted more cauldrons in my class than almost any student I've ever taught."

Harry felt compelled to defend his Housemate. "It's just because he's nervous, sir. That's why he makes such, uh, dumb mistakes."

"Humph! That is no excuse for shoddy potionmaking skills. If I'm the worst thing he has to fear, he's lucky. There are much darker things out there than me." Severus said grimly.

Harry couldn't argue with that, having seen for himself as a baby the most evil of all dark things. So he turned back to grinding lavender buds into a fine powder, wondering if he would ever hear from his friends again. Time here in the manor seemed to stand still, he wondered if he had aged a day since he came here.

But when he tried to ask Severus how long they had been here, the Potions Master answered only, "Time is different here, don't expect me to try and explain the way it runs, you would never understand it. We will return to the school when it is time, Harry. I won't let you miss your fourth year."

"Too bad," Harry muttered under his breath, for he wasn't really looking forward to going back this term, since he had no way to explain his sudden change of identity, nor his change of heart towards his professor, who was now father instead of stranger, and a person instead of the greasy dungeon bat.

Harry was even beginning to enjoy spending time with Severus, making potions, weeding the herb garden, or just sitting in the living room, reading quietly. They played chess, not Harry's best game, and Snape trounced him soundly. But then he showed Harry the moves he had used, so Harry could use them next time. Ron's going to be in for a shock when I play him again. Assuming he even wants to see me any more. Why does everything in my life have to be so damned complicated?

Severus was aware that Harry was fretting over not having heard from his friends in over three weeks, and decided to cancel the spell that turned time backwards, returning the manor and its occupants to the current timestream, one week before the beginning of the fourth year.

A few hours later, a large eagle owl soared through the Evermist and tapped upon the window of Severus's study. The Potions Master opened the window with a careless gesture, and the eagle owl flew in and landed upon his desk, chirruping agitatedly.

Severus blinked, for he recognized this owl. "Stormrider? What brings you here?" He took the small envelope from the owl and fed it a dead shrew he summoned. "This envelope has Draco's handwriting on it. I wonder what my godson wants to ask me now?"

Stormrider ruffled his feathers and looked askance at the tall man until Severus broke the blue seal on the envelope and drew out a letter written on badly cured parchment, not the Malfoys' usual expensive stationary. How odd, thought Severus. Narcissa would never allow such inferior parchment into her home, this wouldn't be considered fit to write a list of groceries on according to her standards.

He unfolded the parchment and read the following shocking missive:

Dear Uncle Sev,

I know you've gone into hiding somewhere, since my father came home one evening from a meeting threatening to roast your balls over a slow fire when you showed yourself again. But you know I've always liked you better than him, and now I can finally admit it, since Father's shadow doesn't smother me any more.

I'm writing this in the dormitory of the DWCSF (Department of Wizarding Children, Schools, and Families) where they place kids like me who have no immediate family any more. In other words, it's a bloody orphanage. I apologize for my language, but I've been here for three days and they've not allowed me to write anyone during that time, until I pitched a royal fit today and the matron decided to give me a quill and parchment.

To explain, the Aurors came to the manor and arrested both my parents on charges of consorting with known rebels and traitors to the Ministry and being supporters of Voldemort. They were sent to Azkaban and their trials are pending, but you and I both know they are guilty. Father used to scare me into obeying him when I was four by putting on his Death Eater mask and telling me if I didn't behave the Dark Lord would come and whip me raw.

I've always known where Father's loyalties lie, and Mother is his willing puppet.

I was starting to follow Father, in spite of your warnings, Uncle, but his words to Mother that night brought me quickly back to the right path. The things he said he would do to you . . .I can't bear to write of them here, but I'm sure you can guess what they were . . .I made a decision that night. I will not become like them, Uncle Sev. I don't want to become cold and hard and filled with such hate that I could kill a man who was once my best friend in the name of a dried up dead necromancer.

Do you remember when I was ten and I came to stay with you for the summer at your house in Spinner's End? I was full of myself, and I told you that you should get a house elf otherwise you weren't a proper wizard. And you told me that a proper wizard doesn't criticize his elders and made me clean the house as a punishment? I was so mad I called you something really rude and you spanked me and told me if I behaved like a spoiled brat you'd punish me like one. You said my attitude wasn't all my fault but the fault of my parents and I had a choice, to act like a high-and-mighty twit or to be a normal boy, and if I chose wrong I'd have to take the consequences.

It's funny, but when I was with you back then I felt like you were a better father to me than my real one, least you didn't tell me that I had to behave in a certain manner and not disgrace the family name or else you'd curse me unto the thirteenth generation. With you I wasn't the Malfoy heir, I was just Draco.

I want to be just Draco again, Uncle Sev. Please, help me. They told me if no relative comes to claim me in a day, they'll put me with a foster family, and I don't think I could take being a charity case.

One other thing. You know those Muggles Potter lived with? Well, some of Father's associates went and killed Potter's uncle the other night. Caught him when he had gone outside of the wards to go to some club. Potter's aunt and cousin were safe in the house, Father's friends couldn't get to them, and Dumbledore came and took them away somewhere safe. But Potter's gone missing, and Dumbledore fears he was kidnapped by the Death Eaters. He's searching high and low for the bloody savior of the wizarding world, but so far has found no trace of him.

I thought I'd be happy when I heard that news, but I really wasn't. If Potter is in their hands, he'd better pray for a swift death, because death will be a release from what they'll do to him for fun. If he's not with them, then maybe he's in a better situation than I am.

I hope you get this letter, Uncle Sev. I'm really counting on you, Godfather. Wherever you are, come and take me away, I'm begging you.

Love,

Your godson,

Draco

 

Severus read and re-read the letter several times before he finally came to a decision regarding his godson. Draco was family, they were related through distant Prince ancestors, and Severus knew he could not, in good conscience, turn his back on the boy. He had always known someday Lucius would end up on the wrong side of the law, and now it had happened. He had done his best to try and wean Draco away from Lucius's dark path, and it seemed as if he had succeeded . . .enough so his godson admitted that his father was wrong and he did not want to be like him.

No, he must bring Draco here as well, and somehow he had to make Harry and Draco get along, for Draco would be his ward now, once he signed the papers giving him guardianship. The Potions Master sighed, for that too would take time. But at least time was on his side, for once.

Lucius and Narcissa imprisoned and Vernon dead, Severus thought darkly. All of them had gotten what they deserved, and he wasn't very sorry at all. He wondered how Harry would take the news of his uncle's death, but at least Petunia and Dudley were safe, Albus had made sure of it. He laughed softly when he recalled Draco saying Dumbledore was certain Harry had been kidnapped and was searching all over for him. He was kidnapped, Old Meddler, just not by who you thought. And a good thing too, considering what almost happened to his relatives.

He tucked Draco's letter into a pocket of his robes and went to find his son and tell him of the unexpected tidings he had just received and inform him that Draco would now be a permanent member of Prince Manor.

Harry's mouth hung open. He could not believe the words that had just come out of Severus's mouth. "Malfoy . . .Draco Malfoy is coming here? To live with us?"

"That's what I just said. Something wrong with your hearing, Harry?" Severus asked testily.

"No . . .but . . .but it's Malfoy. Why is he coming here when he's got his own bloody manor house to live in? Why the hell does he have to invade ours? You can't be serious!"

Severus fixed his son with a warning stare. "Have you ever known me to joke around? Especially on this particular subject?"

"No, sir." Harry scowled down at his plate of ham and roasted potatoes, having quite lost his appetite after Severus had dropped the bombshell that Draco-bloody DRACO-was going to be his ward, and living in the same house as the former Harry Potter. Harry would have rather lived with a tarantula, at least the spider wouldn't backstab you while you were sleeping. Great! Just bloody wonderful! He seethed, playing with his food, shoving the potatoes and ham about on his plate. Just when I finally start to have a life that's sort of normal, this happens! Somebody up there must really hate me.

"Eat your supper, Harry." Severus ordered abruptly, only then noticing his son wasn't eating with his normal appetite. "We'll discuss this more afterwards."

"I'm not hungry," mumbled his son, moving the potato bits to one side of his plate with his fork.

"Quit sulking and eat." Severus's tone was quiet, but it had iron in it. "Draco coming here is not the end of the world."

"Maybe not for you. You like him," Harry grumbled, half under his breath. "Me, on the other hand, I can't stand the stuck-up little snot."

Severus put down his fork abruptly. "How old are you?"

"What?"

"Answer my question, young man. How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen, not four, correct?" Severus demanded, his eyes narrowing in a look Harry knew all too well.

"Yes, sir."

"Then act your age, Mr. Snape. Quit sulking like a four-year-old and eat your supper and stop mumbling insults under your breath. There is a very good reason why Draco is coming here to be my ward, but I shall not tell you anything until you stop behaving like a sulky brat. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Harry picked up a forkful of ham, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. It tasted like sawdust, despite the honey glaze on it. He forced himself to swallow it, then mechanically ate a bite of potato. The food sat in his stomach like a lump of lead, but he continued chewing and swallowing, until he'd eaten most of the food on his plate. "I can't eat any more, Severus," he told his father, pushing his plate away.

Snape peered at his son. "You hardly ate anything today, you ought to be starving. Yet you barely touched half your supper."

"Your news made me lose my appetite," remarked his son impudently. "Now my stomach hurts."

Severus looked slightly alarmed at that, drawing his wand and coming over to run a quick diagnostic on Harry. It came out normal. "You're fine. Finish your supper."

"Can't. I'm full."

Severus looked as if he wanted to shake Harry until his teeth rattled. "Lose the attitude, young man. Because if you continue to act like a four-year-old, I'll punish you like one. So, unless you'd like to spend twenty-five minutes with your nose in a corner, and then sitting at this table until you finish your dinner, I would suggest you act your age."

Harry gazed up at his parent in shock. Surely Severus didn't mean that? But the elder Snape had a stern uncompromising frown on his lean features and the dark eyes were snapping with temper. Harry quickly decided that he wasn't all that full and forced down the rest of his dinner.

As soon as he'd washed down the last bite with a glass of pumpkin juice, Severus gestured for him to do the dishes. Harry obeyed, happy to keep his hands occupied. At least scrubbing the pots and pans allowed him to focus on something other than Draco, the bloody prince of Slytherin. Wonder how many chores he'll have to do? It better not be less than mine. He ‘d put up with that from Dudley for too many years to allow Draco to get away with it too.

Once he'd finished with the dishes and put everything away, he went into the den and found Severus holding a letter in his hand. "Have a seat."

Harry sat at one end of the couch, nervously nibbling on a cuticle.

"Stop that."

"What?" 

"Biting your nails."

Harry flushed and quickly removed his finger from his mouth. He rarely bit his nails anymore, only when he was very upset. "Sorry."

Severus handed Harry the letter he was holding. "I would like you to read the letter Draco sent to me. Perhaps then you will gain a greater insight into my decision to accept his request and make him my ward."

Harry took it, though he longed to tell Severus that he wasn't interested in anything the blond had to say. But he found himself reading the letter a moment later. He had never known Draco to be anything than an arrogant self-assured bully, always sneering at those less fortunate than him, like Ron or Neville, or looking down on those who were Muggleborn, like Hermione. But the Draco in this letter sounded afraid and lost, uncertain now that his parents were in prison and he was in the hands of WCSF. He actually begged Severus to come and get him, before he ended up in a foster home.

A part of Harry sniggered, imagining the spoiled Malfoy slaving away doing chores in some foster home, finally learning that he had to work for a living, since his silver spoon was gone. But another part, the compassionate part, whispered that he wouldn't want Draco to end up with a family that hated him, the way Harry had ended up with the Dursleys. He knew all too well what it felt like to be the unwanted burden, treated like a servant.

I never knew Severus was his godfather. Does that make him legally responsible for Malfoy now that his parents are in Azkaban? Harry supposed it did, if Severus had decided to make Draco his ward. He was even more astonished to read that Draco didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps, that he wanted out of the path expected of a Death Eater's son. Harry would have figured him for a dyed-in-the-wool supporter of Voldemort, but apparently he'd been mistaken. Could there be more to the spoiled boy than met the eye?

He read further and his eyebrows shot up. He considers Severus a father figure? Oh, now that's just flipping wonderful. I'll be damned if he thinks he's going to take my father away from me when I've just found him. I'm his son, not sodding Malfoy! Strange, how the relationship between him and Severus had felt awkward up until now, when he feared his position might be challenged by the blond Slytherin. Now Harry felt every inch a Snape. And he wasn't going to let Malfoy worm his way into his father's affections. He continued reading, nearly falling over when he read about Draco staying with Snape over the summer and Severus making him do chores and spanking him over his attitude. Merlin's bloody shorts, he actually spanked Malfoy! Who would've thought? Not that the prat didn't deserve it. Even more surprising was that Draco didn't resent Severus disciplining him that way. Instead he agreed that he had deserved his punishment and was content to obey Severus's dictates.

Harry rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was dreaming and he would wake up now. He took a small bit of skin on his wrist and pinched. Ouch! No, he was awake, all right. Awake and about to be stuck living with Draco for the rest of his life. He finished the letter and set it on the coffee table.

Severus glanced up from his contemplation of the fire dancing in the grate. "Well? What do you think now? Does not Draco have similar motivations as yourself for coming to live here with me? His life under his father is remarkably similar to that of you and your uncle, wouldn't you say?" The Potions Master asked pointedly.

Slowly, Harry nodded. "Yeah. I guess. Lucius sounds like as big an arsehole as Uncle Vernon ever was." Then he flushed as he realized what he'd said and to whom he'd said it to. "Sorry, sir."

"Though I dislike vulgar terms like that, Harry, I will let it go, this once, considering whom you were referring to," Severus conceded. "Now, let me set you straight on a few things. Draco will be my legal ward, which in the wizarding world is very similar to an adoption. I will have total control over his assets and be responsible for him until he turns seventeen. I intend to treat him like a relative, for so he will be, by both blood and a legally binding contract."

"What are you saying? That now he's like my . . .brother?" asked Harry, unable to keep the dismay from his voice.

"If that term bothers you, then think of him as a cousin, for he is one, related by blood on my side to you. As such, I expect you to treat him with consideration and respect, and he will be told to do the same. I'm aware you two dislike each other, that you have developed a schoolboy rivalry, but I want that to end, starting now. I refuse to have my house turned into a battleground every day. You are fourteen, old enough to practice tolerance and restraint, Mr. Snape. And so too is Draco. I expect you to do so, or else you won't like the consequences."

"What's he going to call you?"

"I am his godfather, and he has always referred to me as Uncle Severus, or the more familiar Uncle Sev."

"Oh." Harry was relieved. He'd been half-afraid Draco would start calling his adopted ‘father' something more personal, like ‘Dad'. Even though Harry couldn't yet bring himself to address his father that way, he sure as blazes didn't want Draco doing it.

Severus didn't miss the sudden flash of relief in Harry's green eyes when he told his son what Draco called him. Hmm . . .he's not ready to call me anything paternal yet, but he doesn't want Draco to start either, and he's afraid that I will favor Draco over him, since I have known him longer. At least that was what his instincts were telling him, and Severus had learned long ago to trust his instincts, for they were rarely wrong. Right now his instincts were warning him to give Harry some reassurance, otherwise the boy's unfounded jealousy would find a target in Draco and cause problems. 

"Harry, I do not intend to play favorites between you, if that's what you were thinking. I am not your uncle and both of you will be treated equally by me."

"Even though he's Slytherin and I'm Gryffindor?"

"Your House has nothing whatsoever to do with you being my son. Here, there are no Houses, only me as the Head of Prince Manor, and you two, my son and my ward. I wish for us to try and get along, as a family. Therefore, Draco shall be given chores like you and the same privileges as you. He will also face the same consequences if he misbehaves." Severus told him firmly. "Since you've read his letter, you know that I have no problem in doling out appropriate punishments to him should he warrant it. Or to you."

No, Severus certainly had no problems with that! Harry thought ruefully.

After a moment, his father continued. "You are my son, and there is nothing that will ever change that. You need not fear that Draco will take your place, for that will never happen."

"What about when we go back to school? Will you still let him lord it over me, like you used to?"

"No. I have told you before, the way I behaved towards you was mostly a cover, to protect my identity as a spy. That is now no longer necessary, and I can treat all of my students equally. So Draco will not be allowed to lord it over you, Harry, or anyone else. But that is something we can discuss at another time. I'm going to pick up Draco from the orphanage tomorrow, and once he arrives I expect you to behave in a mature manner, Harry Albus Snape." Severus said, using his son's full name for the first time. Or at least the name he should have had, if Severus had been able to name him.

"All right, sir." Harry agreed. Then he did a doubletake. Had Snape just called him . . .? "Albus? My middle name is Albus? Like . . .Professor Dumbledore's?" Harry managed after a moment.

"Yes. He was once my mentor, and I considered it fitting that I should name my son after him." Severus told him quietly.

"Does he know?"

Severus shook his head. "No. Why would he? As far as I knew, my plans to marry Lily and have a child with her fell apart when I was forced to fake my own death and returned to discover her married to James Potter. Any thoughts I had about naming a child of mine were irrelevant then. Nevertheless, it is the name you would have had if I had known from the beginning that you were mine." The professor hesitated, then said, "Have you any objections to using it?"

"No . . .I think it's a good name. Only . . .I'm sort of used to the other one." Harry admitted. Then he added quickly, "But I need to start using my real name, because I don't want to pretend to be someone I'm not."

His answer seemed to please his father, who gave him a crooked grin and asked if he wished to play a game of chess.

Harry agreed and they spent a pleasant hour and a half playing wizard chess until Severus decimated him, as always. Then Harry decided to go to sleep, wondering if tonight was the last time he would feel so relaxed and comfortable in the manor, which he had begun to think of as his home. 

* * * * * *

Draco paced uneasily back and forth in the small cramped room he'd been assigned. Dawn had broken a scant half-an-hour ago, and Draco was already itching to be free of this dingy second-rate hotel. The walls were a blank slate gray, the narrow bed contained a lumpy mattress whose springs poked him all night until he'd managed to cast a Cushioning Charm, then he'd been scolded by Matron Mavis afterwards for using unnecessary magic and the hag had threatened to take his wand away if he performed any magic again.

He pretended to be contrite, because for the time being she held authority over him while he remained in this dump, and he knew better than to make an enemy of someone in authority. Still he wished that his godfather would come and pick him up, Stormrider had returned so Draco knew his letter had been delivered successfully. And it was not like Snape to dawdle, especially in an emergency. He had made it pretty explicit that he needed Severus's intervention quickly, and he wondered what the bloody hell was taking the man so long? Where was he hiding, on the other side of the world?

Just then, he heard voices on the other side of the door, one of them he recognized as Matron Mavis's and the other . . .his heart leaped in joy and for one moment he felt like dancing a jig across the room. His godfather had come at last!

A moment later, the door opened, and the familiar black cloaked and robed figure of Hogwarts premiere Potions Master stepped into the room. "Come, Draco. It's time for you to go home."

The normally reserved Slytherin gave a loud yip and then he did something he hadn't done since he was ten. He ran over to his godfather and hugged him, the way a child would hug a parent he has not seen in a very long time.

The Potions Master enfolded the boy in his arms for a moment, and whispered, "There now, dragonet. Did I not promise if you ever needed me I would come for you?"

The blond head nodded and Draco clung to the familiar pillar of strength and safety that was his godfather before he let go and turned to gather the single trunk with his remaining belongings, all he'd been allowed to take from the condemned Malfoy Manor.

"There are forms you must sign, Professor Snape, before I can allow you to take Mr. Malfoy from my custody," said Mavis haughtily.

"Just so, madam. Where are they? I am pressed for time," Severus said evenly.

"On my desk. This way."

She led them down the rickety stairs to the ground floor and along a short hall with faded mustard yellow wallpaper to a small office with a brass nameplate. Pushing open the door, she instructed a rather slender golden-haired witch, "Caroline, find Mr. Malfoy's file and the guardianship papers for me. It seems his godfather and cousin, Mr. Snape, has come to take him home."

"Really, Matron? How fortunate, because another man is also here to inquire after young Malfoy." Caroline beamed.

"What man?" Severus demanded, drawing his wand. If a Death Eater had come to claim Lucius's son . . .

Albus Dumbledore stepped out from the corner of the room where he'd been waiting for Mavis's arrival. "Ah, Severus, how marvelous! I was just coming to check up on Draco and here I find you doing the same thing. I had a feeling you would not hesitate to come to the aid of your godson."

"No, Headmaster," Severus replied, his tone a shade too formal for Albus's liking. "I would never hesitate to come to the aid of an innocent."

The barb struck home, and the older wizard flinched. Then he shook his head sadly. "Severus, there is much we need to discuss. But first, you should see to Draco's welfare."

"I intend to, sir," Snape said cooly, his tone frigid. "Matron, the papers, if you please?"

The matron was quite awed to find the Albus Dumbledore in her humble office, and she kept bowing and scraping to him so much that Severus longed to haul off and slap her back to reality. Dumbledore was not a god, just a man, a man who made grave mistakes in judgement.

He took the quill provided and signed his name to the documents making him Draco's legal guardian and releasing custody of the boy to him.

Once that was done, Albus said, "We need to talk, Severus. Please come with me to headquarters and listen to what I have to tell you."

"Very well," Severus said, a bit ungraciously. "Draco."

Draco came to stand beside his godfather and in a moment they had Apparated away to Dumbledore's office at 35 Grimmauld Place.

Once they were safely inside and all the wards had been reset and silencing charms cast, Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk, steepling his fingers on the polished wooden surface, and said, "Severus, I'm afraid I have some bad news. Harry Potter has gone missing. The night of his uncle's death by Death Eaters, Harry disappeared. I managed to get his relatives to safety, but neither of them knew where Harry was, or if he had been captured. I searched but I could find no trace of him."

"Not even with a locator spell? Or a Seeing Charm?" Severus asked curiously, wanting to see if the fae magic of his ancestors was a match for Dumbledore's.

The old wizard shook his head. "None of the spells I tried worked. It is as if he . . .for the lack of a better term . . .vanished!"

Draco fought to keep from yawning, as he sat in the comfy chair closest to the door. He hadn't got much sleep last night and he was tired. All this fuss about Potter too! Sodding little glory-seeker! Then he sobered, recalling that if Potter was with the Death Eaters, he was most likely dead. Or praying for it.

Severus inhaled slowly, then exhaled. He considered carefully, then decided it was time to reveal a few hoarded secrets to his former mentor. The Old Meddler wasn't the only one who could keep a secret agenda.

"You need not worry about Potter, Headmaster. He is safe, where no one can find him," Severus said smoothly.

"How do you know this?" asked Dumbledore, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "The night Harry disappeared . . .you were gone, so how can you know where he is, Severus?"

"Because Harry is with me, Headmaster. And has been for several weeks now," answered the Potions Master calmly.

There had been few times when anyone had ever caught Albus Dumbledore off guard, much less shocked him speechless. But Severus Snape had done so. For several long moments, Dumbledore remained utterly silent, staring at his former student and spy as if at a stranger.

Draco too was still behind him, trying to puzzle out why in Merlin's name Severus would have a care for Potter's wellbeing.

"You took him in, Severus? I would never have expected you to shelter James Potter's son, considering your past history." Albus managed at last.

"You are mistaken in your assumption, Headmaster. Potter's offspring or not, I would never leave a child in the hands of such vile people. However, it just so happens that Harry is no relation to James Potter, unless you count a distant kinship as a fifth or sixth cousin."

"Severus, are you well, my boy? I think you've had too much sun. Because you're not making any sense. Of course Harry is James's son."

"Oh really?" Severus leaned over the desk, until they were almost nose to nose. "Why of course, Albus Dumbledore? Because Lily Evans married him? Because he was your Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Seeker who could do no wrong in your eyes, even when he persecuted me mercilessly? Because it pleased you to no end to see James married to Lily? Shall I tell you a little secret, Albus? Your Golden Gryffindor, your hero, sired no children with Lily."

"Severus, you're overwrought . . .the stress has been too much for you . . ." began Dumbledore, reaching out to place a hand on the younger man's forehead.

Snape jerked away, his lip curling. "No, Albus, I'm not feverish or out of my mind. Simply put, Harry is not James's son, he is my son. Nobody's son but mine!"

For the second time that day, the old wizard was struck dumb.

"Merlin's balls, Uncle Sev!" Draco gasped, his mouth hanging open. "You're not serious? Potter is your son?"

Both wizards spun around to face him, they had quite forgotten he was there.

"Draco, wait outside, please." Severus ordered, pointing towards the door. 

"But, Uncle Sev . . .I want to hear more about how Potter became your son," Draco protested.

"I would think that would be obvious, Draco," drawled his godfather. "Now, this conversation is not for your ears, young man. Go!"

"But sir . . .!"

Severus gave him a sharp warning glare. "Mr. Malfoy. Either you leave under your own power this instant, or I will pick you up and carry you over my shoulder. You have two seconds to choose."

Draco was on his feet and reaching for the doorknob almost as soon as Severus had finished his sentence. "Okay, okay! I'm going! No need to get all snarky, Godfather."

"Mind your tone, young man. Or would you like to scrub the floor while you wait for me to finish?" threatened his guardian.

"No, sir. I apologize," Draco said hastily. Then he walked out of the room, muttering, "Holy Merlin, this is insane! Snape's son is Harry bloody Potter!"

Once the door had been shut securely behind him, and Severus was sure that even Draco's keen ears could not penetrate the silencing charms he'd woven, he turned back to Dumbledore and continued with his shocking revelation.

"Why are you so surprised, Headmaster? You knew what Lily was to me. We had been engaged, she was to marry me that spring, before you decided to "kill" me so I could not fight alongside you, denying me a chance to get revenge upon those who had performed acts I found abhorrent. You kept me in the shadows and because of that cost me the woman I loved above all. Do you know why Lily married James Potter?"

"I would assume it was for the usual reasons." Albus coughed.

"Wrong. She married him for one reason only. To give her son a father. She never loved him, it was always me she loved. But I was dead and Potter was alive, and she did what she had to. She told her sister Petunia the truth and Petunia has kept it until now. Lily cast a Glamour Seeming over Harry to hide his true identity, for she feared what James might do if he discovered her son was also the son of Severus Snape. I lifted the Glamour over him a few days before and there is no doubt whose son he is." Now Severus's eyes narrowed and he whirled away and paced the length of the office before growling, "My son, Albus Dumbledore, and you would have left him to rot with his abusive uncle. What reason did you have, old man? Explain it to me, if you will? You owe me that much!"

The Headmaster looked torn for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he drew in a breath, let it out, and said, "I know you think I have ill-used you and Harry, my boy, but you must understand, there is a reason to my madness, so to speak."

"Oh? One beyond driving me slowly insane?" quipped Snape.

"Indeed. You played a vital role as my agent, Severus, and in order for you to be effective, you had to give up all ties to the outside world . . . even that of the woman you loved. I know this may sound harsh, but you would have never been able to do what you did if you had been allowed to marry Lily. Because then your priority would have been Lily and your child, not yourself and your secret agenda. I needed the perfect spy, Severus Snape, not a man muddled by love. Voldemort would have sensed that from the first, and killed you, my boy. So, in the nature of self-preservation, I had to remove Lily from the picture."

"How very noble of you, sir!" sneered Severus. "Not only do you pry into my professional life, but my personal one as well. What's next? Veritaserum at dawn? What of my son, old man? What reason can you give me for treating a child like a bloody savior, when he's not even fourteen? How can you justify sending him back to live with the Muggles who hurt him, when I offered to take him in myself?"

"My reason is a simple one, Severus. Harry has shown himself to be the one wizard powerful enough to defeat Tom Riddle. He should have died that night, when Tom cast the Killing Curse, but somehow he did not. He was born to be Voldemort's bane, Severus. As much as you hate to admit it, that boy is the last hope we have to defeat Tom once and for all. But in order for him to defeat Voldemort, he must be prepared, must be tested, for only through adversity does our true courage show through. Just as a sword is tempered by fire, so too must Harry be tempered."

Severus nearly spit, he was so furious. "My son is not a bloody hero, Albus Dumbledore! This is not the time of Achilles, or Charlemagne, or bloody damn Arthur and Merlin! The age of heroes is past, however much you wish to resurrect it. Arthur may have been a fifteen-year-old boy when he pulled the sword from the stone, but back then fifteen was a man, since they only lived till thirty-five or forty. Harry is fourteen, Albus! Fourteen, he should be worrying about getting good marks in school, playing Quidditch, going to a dance with a pretty girl-not being made to endure years of hell under a bastard child abuser just to satisfy some half-baked prophecy and your damn criteria for what makes a hero. I've told you before, wars are fought by adults, NOT children. Harry is a child, damn it, a very damaged child, and I refuse to stand by and allow you to place the responsibility for slaying a madman on his shoulders."

"It's too late for that, Severus. He has already taken the first steps on the pathway."

"Then I'll pull him right off it and be damned. I've sacrificed much in the name of your cause, old man, but I will not sacrifice my son. Choose another champion. Better yet, fight your own battles."

"Severus, I understand you wanting to protect your child. It's a natural reaction. But we need Harry."

"For what? The poster child for Joseph Campbell?" Severus snarled. "He is all I have left of Lily, Albus, and I will not let you use him that way."

"I understand your concern, Severus. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

"But it doesn't. I meant what I said before. Choose another hero, because Harry just quit."

"Severus, the prophecy states -" he began.

"I don't care what the damn prophecy states. I care about seeing my son live to grow up, not being placed in the ground in a coffin. Both my sons, so don't even think of asking Draco. He can't do that if he's fighting for his life. I'm going to ask you once more to leave him alone. Me, you can ask to risk my life, for I know what I'm offering. But not Harry. He's been through enough. Fight your war, if you must. But do it without dragging your namesake into it."

"Severus, I believe you are making a grave mistake."

"It wouldn't be the first time. But it's my mistake to make. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a tired boy to bring to his new home. I wish you luck in rounding up the rest of Voldemort's followers. I will see you next term."

And with that, Severus turned about, black cloak billowing, and went to fetch Draco and take him to Prince Manor, where he belonged.

Draco was standing a few feet from the door to the office, trying to listen to what was being discussed without seeming to eavesdrop, but it was hopeless. His godfather must have placed some kind of silencing charm upon the door, because Draco couldn't hear anything, and even his Sharp Ears spell had no effect.

He bit back a sigh and hoped that Severus would explain things to him once he was done speaking with the Headmaster. He knew the Potions Master was a man of many secrets, but this! How could he have kept that secret for so long? It boggled the young Slytherin's mind.

Just then the door opened and his godfather emerged. "Draco, eavesdropping does not become you," he reprimanded.

Draco did his best to look innocent, though he sensed that Severus was not fooled. It was very rare that he could pull the wool over his godfather's eyes, Severus noticed everything, and sometimes it seemed as if he could almost read minds. "Uncle Sev, I wasn't . . ." he began.

"Don't lie to me, young man!" snapped his guardian. "I will tolerate much from you, but never that. I trust you remember what lying got you last time you tried it with me?"

"I remember," Draco blushed. Last time he'd lied to this man he had been seven, and had been caught playing with Severus's private potions ingredients, and he'd invented a story that he had hoped would get him out of hot water. Instead, he had succeeded in getting double the punishment Severus would've normally given him, which included being grounded and made to do extra chores about Spinner's End, plus a session with a bar of soap and three sharp swats.

"Good. Take heed of it then. Walk with me, please, we have a few things to discuss before I bring you home." Severus ordered, taking his godson by the arm and leading him away from the office. He then Apparated to the lonely deserted moor, where there dwelled only mist and a few stunted trees.

"Where?" Draco glanced about him uneasily.

"Where is not important. This is a crossroads, not our destination. I brought you here so we could discuss privately my rules regarding you and Harry. I have had this same discussion with him, and now I will have it with you. First and foremost, you are to behave with dignity and restraint, Draco, as befits your heritage and proper manners. That means no quarreling or sniping at my son and definitely no fighting or dueling with him. I will not have my home turned into a boxing arena, so bury this feud you have with Harry as of today, or else! Your room will be next to his, and you will also have a list of chores as well. I play no favorites, Draco. You are, for better or worse, my adopted son and I want both my children to tolerate each other, at least."

He continued to lecture his godson much as he had done Harry, until he was satisfied Draco understood the rules of the manor and would not start a major fight as soon as he walked in the door. He hated discord among family members, he'd lived through way too much of it during his childhood to ever foster anything like it now that he was grown and master of his own house.

"You will find that this manor contains many secrets and I will ask you once not to pry. It protects itself, and right now it is predisposed to accepting you as a guest."

"You're speaking of it as though it were alive."

"In a way, it is. It has its own magic, fae magic, and it chooses the next Heir Apparent, which must be a descendent of the Prince bloodline." Severus then went on to explain about the Amulet of Inheritance and the fae connection.

Draco listened avidly, his nose twitching like a ferret's sensing a hidden mouse. Secrets within secrets. He enjoyed finding things, and perhaps he would even become the next Heir Apparent. Meantime, however, he would promise to get along with Potter-no it was Harry now, and he was a Snape . . .Merlin, but that was so weird!

"Have I answered all of your questions, Draco?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well then. Let us depart."

Then he repeated the sweeping gesture Harry had seen him perform, and parted the Evermist so he and Draco could enter the manor.

* * * * * *

Harry had been flying when he spotted the figures of his father and Draco crossing the lawn to the front entrance of the mansion. He drew in a deep breath and reminded himself sternly of his promise to behave before landing and walking inside the manor through the back entrance. He carefully stowed his broom upon the rack on the wall, next to Severus's, before ascending the short flight of stone stairs up to the main floor.

Severus and Draco found him sitting casually in the den, sipping at a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry eyed his rival warily, then said, inclining his head a bit, as one would to a servant, "Malfoy. Welcome to Prince Manor."

Draco stiffened slightly, recognizing the condescension. "Potter. Fancy meeting you here."

"I live here," Harry retorted. "And the name is Snape now, in case you've forgotten."

"Congratulations. Must be nice, to finally have a decent name and all," Draco drawled.

"Same goes for you too, Malfoy. Must be nice to finally have a decent guardian, instead of Death Eater scum," Harry shot back.

"Boys! That's enough!" Severus snapped. "What did you promise me?"

"That we would get along, sir," answered Harry, subdued.

"Or try to, Uncle Sev," grumbled Draco, hanging his head.

"This is not trying, it's sniping. Now, shake hands and remember, from this moment on you are relatives, which means you shall use each other's first names and quit bickering like two-year-olds. Or else you will both be scrubbing the kitchen floor and shoveling the ashes out of the fireplace for a week. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Uncle Severus."

"Harry, show Draco to his room. Then come back here and help me with supper. Draco, you may have the afternoon to unpack and then you clear and wash the dishes after dinner." Severus instructed. "I will make a chart up each week with your names on it and a list of chores for each of you. The list will rotate each week, and I expect you to perform these chores well. Otherwise you will do them over and have privileges, such as flying, taken away from you. If you do all of your assigned chores, you will get a small allowance from me, which I may reduce or increase depending upon your behavior and attitude."

"What about my potions lessons?" Harry asked. "Will M-I mean Draco, be attending them as well?"

"Having problems again, Po-Harry?" sneered his cousin.

"The only problem I have, Draco, is you," Harry began, his temper sparking at the other's tone.

"Harry! That remark was uncalled for. Apologize." Severus ordered.

"But he . . .I want him to apologize first!"

"He will, but because you were more offensive, you shall go first." Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, Mr. Snape? I'm waiting."

Harry moistened his lips, blushing crimson. This bloody sucked! The last person on earth he wanted to apologize to was Malfoy. Then he looked up and met his father's disapproving glower and winced. "I apologize, Draco." He held out a hand.

Draco took it for the briefest of instants, dropping Harry's hand as soon as possible, as if afraid he might catch something. "Apology accepted. And I'm sorry as well."

"Good, now I want the both of you to come here and stand back to back. You will remain like that for five minutes. Perhaps then you will remember to restrain your mouths."

Both boys remained with their mouths open.

Until Severus, reaching the end of his patience, grabbed each one firmly by the ear and marched them to the center of the room, placing them back to back, facing opposite corners. "Five minutes, gentlemen. No talking, no fidgeting. Or else I add time." He pointed his wand and an hourglass appeared in the air with a pop. "You may go when the sand runs out."

Then he turned and strode down the right wing to the kitchen, his robes rustling angrily about his ankles.

Harry stood rigidly, cursing Malfoy under his breath. It figured, not even five minutes in the other's company and already Draco had managed to get him in trouble. Harry wondered how he was going to endure Malfoy living under the same roof as he was without punching the other boy out. Count to ten, Harry. Count to ten and then start again. Oh God, I'm freaking rhyming now . . .thanks to bloody Draco now I'm becoming a poet! He could feel Draco's back just touching his and he wanted to flinch away, but he forced himself to remain still. No way would he be the one to earn them an extra five minutes by moving. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, falling back on an old meditation tactic, thinking of water flowing over rocks and following it on its way.

Next to him, Draco too seethed and sulked. His pride smarted at being treated like a five-year-old, especially since Harry had started it. It wasn't fair! A part of him whined. Then he snorted, because he knew better than to say that aloud. His godfather hated whiny children, and had done his best to break Draco of the habit when he was younger. For the most part, Severus had succeeded, Draco complained far less now than he used to. The blond fixed his eyes on a point in the ceiling, determined to endure the punishment stoically.

The five minutes seemed endless, but at last the sand had run out of the top of the hourglass, freeing them.

Harry stepped away from Draco as soon as the last grain had fallen. The blond stretched, gave Harry an irritated glare, then said, "Which room is mine, Snape?"

"This way." Harry led him down the wing where the bedrooms were located. The room Severus had chosen for Draco was a blue one, representing the Element of Water.

"You know, you look different . . .Harry," Draco observed. "You look. . . more dignified, not like a hayseed farmer, like you used to."

Harry stiffened. "The way I looked before was a Glamour Charm. This is my true appearance." He wasn't sure whether or not to take offense at Draco's comments, since he had to agree that his true features were more aesthetically pleasing to him, as was his hair.

They had reached the room Draco would be using, and Harry gestured and opened the door. "Home sweet home, Mr. Malfoy. Sorry it doesn't come with a personal servant. You'll notice, we've no house elves here like you're used to."

Draco walked in and looked around. He levitated his trunk into the room and chanted a spell that had the contents unpack themselves. "Not bad. Of course, it's smaller than my room at home, but it's still adequate."

"Glad it meets with your approval, my lord," Harry mocked softly.

"Pardon me if I'm used to better than you, who probably lived in a room the size of a closet, like your friend Weasel."

Since that comment was a little too close to home, Harry scowled and said, "Sod off, Draco. Leave Ron out of this. You know, you're not so high and mighty anymore, considering your parents are jailbait now and if it weren't for my father, you'd be living in a foster home."

Draco spun on him, his gray eyes simmering with temper. "Yeah, throw that in my face, why don't you? Like you would ever know what it meant to live in the same house with somebody who's only use for you was to make you into his shadow. Bet you don't even appreciate what it means for you to live here, with Severus, since you've been a celebrity with the whole wizarding community kissing your arse all bloody day!"

"I never asked to be a bloody celebrity, damn you! It wasn't my fault old Snake-Head offed himself while trying to kill me with his own spell. I hate the way people stare at me and think I'm some kind of hero. I never asked to have my name in the paper every time I turn around. And if you think I was treated like a celebrity when I lived with the Dursleys, think again! I was the damn house elf. So I appreciate Severus more than you ever will, Draco. He's my father, not yours!"

"Well, he's my godfather, and I've known him longer than you have," declared Draco.

"Big flying hairy deal, Malfoy! Blood's thicker than water," Harry growled, his temper boiling over at Draco's insinuation that Severus might be partial to him because they shared more of a past together.

"For your information, Snape, I am your blood. We're related through the Prince ancestry," Draco said loftily.

"Maybe so, but you're still the poor relation," Harry shot back. It was a low blow, but he couldn't help it, Malfoy always managed to bring out the worst in him.

Draco's wand was in his hand in an instant. "Say that again, Potter, and I'll hex your tongue out!"

Harry's wand was drawn too. "You can try, if you think you're able to, slither worm."

The two faced off, tempers sizzling, waiting for the other to make the first move, when they heard Severus's voice calling them. "Harry! Come and set the table. Draco, finish unpacking and then come down for dinner."

Both boys jerked guiltily and glanced around before lowering their wands. They knew there would have been holy hell to pay if Snape had caught them like that.

Harry quickly came to his senses, his temper flickering and dying. Harry tucked his wand up his sleeve and said, "Listen, Malfoy. I don't like you staying here any more than you like me here, but we can't change it so we might as well accept it. What do you say to agreeing to avoid each other unless it's absolutely necessary?"

Draco considered. "Fine by me. Not seeing your face will make my day so much brighter. Better get going, Snape. Don't want daddy to come in here and drag you out by your ear, now do we?"

Harry turned to go, muttering over his shoulder, "At least I never ended up over his knee like you." Then he was gone before Malfoy could respond.

Draco stood in the middle of his new room, fuming and wishing he could turn Harry into a newt or a bug and step on him. How had he known about that punishment? the other boy wondered, feeling the tips of his ears go bright red. It had been years ago, and it had been the only time he'd ever made Severus angry enough to spank him, yet Draco recalled it vividly precisely because of that reason. The spanking itself hadn't been terrible, it had been more humiliating than painful, though Draco recalled crying over it just the same as when Lucius caned him, but his tears had been from remorse and shame rather than pain and fear.

The other thing he recalled about that day had been how Severus had held and comforted him afterwards, a rarity in the Malfoy household, for Lucius insisted too many hugs and such made a boy weak and a whimpering milksop. His mother too, had never been one to hold her son too much, perhaps she was afraid of ruining her expensive clothing, Draco thought viciously. Only Severus had ever held him, reassuring him that he was forgiven and loved.

Draco had always boasted to his peers of his wealth and status, because it was the only thing he had that he could boast about, the rest of his life had been a sham, and the only real thing in it had been Severus Snape, who had loved him in spite of all his spoiled ways.

He stood his broom in the corner of the room and thought, Do you even realize how lucky you are, Harry? You have it all, fame, wealth, and the father I always wanted. Typical. Even though Uncle Sev's my guardian, I still bear the Malfoy name, and everything else that goes with it.

But he supposed he could live with that, so long as Severus stood behind him and supported him. Without that support, Draco knew he would be horribly vulnerable, and he was heartily grateful to his godfather for coming to get him and making him his legal ward. Everything would have been perfect if only Harry was not there, he thought resentfully.

In the kitchen, Harry set the table and tried not slam the plates down as he did so. Having Draco around the manor was almost as bad as living with Dudley, save for the fact that Severus had promised not to favor the Slytherin over his son. He truly hoped Severus would keep that promise, though he hadn't yet ever known the man not to keep his word.

He glanced over at his father, who was taking something that looked like grilled chicken over rice from the oven. "Uh, do you need help with anything else, sir?" he asked, though inwardly he cursed himself for not being able to address the older man as his father. It was just a word, and yet, for some reason, it still stuck in his throat. He recalled pointing out rather forcefully that Snape was his father, not Draco's, so why couldn't he bring himself to just call Severus "Dad"?

"No, thank you, Harry. I'm almost done here, unless you would like to get drinks?"

"Sure." He summoned several bottles of butterbeer from the fridge and floated them to the table.

Severus had lifted the ban on underage wizardry so long as Harry was at the manor, and had encouraged him to practice those spells he knew in order to improve his casting speed and accuracy. "Someday you may need to be able to cast at a moment's notice, without thinking, and this is what I want you to practice."

"Sev, will Malfoy-I mean Draco-will he be joining us in our potions lessons and the Defense class?"

"Yes, if he wishes to. It wouldn't be fair to exclude him, now would it?"

"No, sir. I guess not." Harry said glumly.

"What is it, Harry? Have the two of you been wrangling again?"

Harry bit his lip, then slowly shook his head. "Yes. . .I can't seem to help it. He just . . .irritates the hell out of me."

He waited for Severus's frown and the inevitable lecture, but this time the Potions Master surprised him and looked . . .thoughtful. "Hmmm. . .I recall James Potter and I reacting the exact same way with each other. We were like oil and water. My mother offered me some good advice, however. It was not easy to follow, but it worked when I managed to control myself."

"What was it?"

"Count to twenty and then walk away." Severus answered. "Easy to say, hard to do, but it saved me on a number of occasions from getting in trouble I couldn't get out of."

"You, get into trouble? You mean you weren't the perfect student like Percy Weasley or Hermione?"

"Academically, I was at the top of my class. Socially . . .I have never made friends easily, Lily was one of the few that I had. Potter and his friends didn't make it any easier. My mother's advice saved my hide several times. Might I suggest you try it?"

"Okay. I'll give it a go. Thanks."

"You're welcome, son. One other thing. I know at times Draco may seem like an arrogant whelp, but remember, we all wear masks. Some are easier to penetrate than others, however."

Harry just nodded. If anyone knew about masks, it was the Potions Master. Still, he couldn't help feeling a tad resentful that now he had to share his father with Draco. If it were anyone else . . .Something of his feelings must have been showing on his face, for Severus approached him and put an arm about his shoulders for a moment.

The gesture caught Harry off-guard for a single moment, and he allowed himself to be held, leaning against the other's shoulder. It felt right, this was how it should be, Harry thought and for an instant all his anxiety vanished.

That was how Draco found them upon finally locating the kitchen. The young Slytherin's mouth dropped open and for a single moment he longed to rush up and rip Harry away from Severus and scream, "No! That's MY Severus, not yours! I had him first!" Just like he was a brat of a three-year-old again. Resentment welled up in his throat, hot and heavy, as he watched Severus-his Severus-hug Harry, the way he used to hug Draco.

The young wizard turned away, before he disgraced himself by stamping his foot and crying. When Severus had said Harry was his son, Draco had been thinking perhaps he meant it in name only, but seeing the two of them together that way meant that Harry was much more than Severus's biological child.

And if that were so, then where did that leave Draco?

A moment later, Severus and Harry separated and Draco entered the kitchen, still bubbling with resentment and hurt pride. But he schooled his face into a calm expression before saying, "So, what's for dinner, Uncle Sev?"

"Sit down, Draco, and you'll see," Snape invited, indicating Draco was to sit on his left, and Harry to his right.

Draco obeyed, discovering tonight's dinner was chicken over wild rice pilaf with a white wine sauce, biscuits, and green beans with almonds.

The three ate hungrily, without much extraneous conversation, except for requests to pass a dish or the salt and once Severus eyed Harry's plate and ordered him to take a second helping of vegetables. "You need the vitamins, Harry. Otherwise I'll need to brew another cauldronful of Nutrient Potion."

Harry immediately filled half the plate with the green beans. He'd rather eat them than drink Severus's disgusting Nutrient concoction.

Draco eyed his cousin thoughtfully. He knew from potions lessons with Severus that one only needed to consume a Nutrient Potion on a regular basis if one had been deprived of basic vitamins and minerals for a long period of time. Could that be the reason Harry always looked slight and stunted for his age? Draco was the same age and was already a half a head taller and outweighed him too. The image of a starving Harry didn't sit too well with his other perception of the Boy Who Lived, however, until he recalled Harry's recent comment about him being a house elf when he lived with those Muggles. Could they have starved their own relative? Even Lucius, bad as he had been, had never done that. 

Harry looked up from his plate to find Draco studying him with an odd expression on his face. He wondered what the other boy was plotting. His sort were always up to something, and given Malfoy's history, it was probably no good.

Once all of them had eaten, Severus rose and said, "Tonight it is your turn to wash and clear, Draco. When you're finished, you may meet us in the den."

"Me? Wash dishes?" Draco protested lightly, as he always did. A part of him would never get over feeling that such menial labor was beneath him, no matter how many times Severus had made him scrub things.

"Yes, you, Mr. Malfoy. The rules here are the same as they were at Spinner's End. Dishes, Draco." Severus pointed implacably to the sink.

"Am I allowed to use magic?" countered the teenager.

"No. Getting your hands dirty won't kill you, boy. Now enough dawdling. I'll be back in thirty minutes to check on you and if you aren't done by then, I'll have you scrub a few of my cauldrons too."

Draco heaved a sigh but picked up the plates and walked over to the sink. Merlin, but why was it that Snape never had a house elf?

Harry and Severus left Draco to his task, retiring to the den where Severus began to read a magazine and Harry picked up Sev Half-Blood's journal and returned to where he'd left off in it, the part where his ancestor had been surrounded by night fae wanting to use him for a sacrifice.

Draco padded into the den some fifteen minutes later. "I've finished, Uncle Sev. What now?"

"Now is a quiet period, Draco, where we can all relax before going to bed," answered his godfather. "I usually use this time to catch up on my reading or write articles for potions journals and so forth. Have you completed all of your summer assignments?"

Harry cocked an ear, hoping that he hadn't, but Draco replied smoothly, "Yes, ages ago, Uncle Sev. Care to look them over?"

"If you would like."

Draco summoned them with a quick charm and Severus began skimming them as the blond sat down and began to read a rather large volume on the history of the manor, written by yet another Prince ancestor. With Malfoy Manor entailed by the Ministry, Draco hoped to become the next heir to Prince Manor, and so he figured he'd better know as much about the place as he could.

The three read companionably for two and a half hours before Severus glanced up at the clock on the mantle and said, "Twenty-five more minutes, boys."

Draco, who'd been immersed in his history, lifted his head and said, "Huh? Twenty-five more minutes till what?"

"Bedtime."

"Bed? But it's only nine thirty-five! I never go to bed this early. I'm not ten anymore, Uncle Sev."

"I know how old you are, Draco. Fourteen-year-olds need a decent amount of sleep too. Young wizards especially. Ten o'clock, Draco. Argue and I'll change it . . .to nine." Severus added with a wicked smirk.

Draco shut his mouth, very annoyed, but knowing better than to protest and end up with a bedtime for eight-year-olds. No way was he going to have an earlier bedtime than Harry. He returned to his history, his feathers ruffled a bit.

Behind Sev Half-Blood's journal, Harry hid a grin. Good for you, sir! Tell him like it is, the spoiled brat.

At ten o'clock, both boys bid Severus goodnight and went to their rooms. Draco fell asleep instantly, despite thinking he was going to be up all night due to the earlier bedtime. Harry, on the other hand, tossed and turned for thirty minutes before finally falling asleep, and then the soul-chilling dream of the dementors chasing him returned in full force.

"I'm not Harry Potter!" he woke yelling, sweat dripping from his forehead. "I'm Harry Albus Snape."

He started to shiver, trembling from head to foot so violently he feared he would fall to pieces. This was the first dream in which the dementor had actually spoken to him, and had not just come and started to lower its hood. The memory of that awful chilling voice echoed in his head, making his throat seize up and his breath come in harsh gasps.

Colored spots danced before his eyes and he fought to get a decent breath. It felt like the skeletal hand was slowly squeezing his chest in two, pressing down upon his heart and lungs in a vise-like grip. Can't breathe . . . need air . . .Ah, Merlin! I need . . .Severus . . .help me, Dad! Help me . . .it's squeezing my heart out . . .!

He fought to get air into his lungs, wheezing and choking like an asthmatic, his face ghost pale, his emerald eyes glassy. By some incredible act of will, he managed to drag himself upright, shove his glasses on his face and stagger out the door and down the hallway.

His head was throbbing and he still couldn't breathe right, he was nauseated and sweating, yet somehow he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, leaning against the wall, as he made his way to Severus's bedroom. Breathe, Harry. . .It was just a dream . . .just a stupid dream! He told himself over and over, but the panic refused to abate, it had him in a chokehold and would not let go.

He slumped against the door of the master bedroom, then groped for the knob and opened it. Then he staggered into the bedroom and collapsed, his heart fluttering madly like a terrified bird's, panic smothering him in its icy folds.

Severus had just emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in a soft pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a black tank top when Harry thudded to the ground practically in front of him.

"Harry! Bloody hell!" He immediately knelt and took the child in his arms. Harry was pale and his skin had a slight blue tinge. Afraid he was choking, Severus checked his mouth and tilted his head back to see if anything was obstructing his son's airway.

Finding nothing, he cautiously sat the boy up, noting that he was shivering and sweating and his heart was racing. Clearly, the boy was suffering from an anxiety attack. "Another nightmare, was it?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and even. "All right, Harry. I want you to focus on my voice. Are you listening to me, son? Look at me, Harry."

He gently lifted his son's chin so he was staring directly into Severus's eyes, and slowly the glassy look faded. "That's right. Look at me and take a nice deep breath. Come on, breathe for me, Harry. . .In . . .and out. It's not hard . . .Relax and just breathe . . ." Severus coaxed, rubbing the boy's back. Harry drew in a breath . . .then another . . . "Good job. Again. In and out. There now, son. I'm here, you're safe. Nothing can harm you."

Gradually, Harry's breathing evened out and the invisible tremors that shook him began to subside. "I . . .I . . .it was a nightmare . . .dementors . . ." He managed, sucking in another mouthful of air. Suddenly he began to cough and then his nauseated stomach rebelled. Too late he tried to clamp a hand over his mouth.

Next thing he knew, he'd vomited all over the carpet and his father. Utterly mortified, he cried, "Sorry . . .I didn't mean it . . .sorry, sir!" God, oh God, I wish I was dead. He's going to kill me . . .oh Merlin, please . . .He groaned as he felt his stomach cramp and heave yet again.

"Hush . . .it's all right, you're sick . . ." Severus managed to say calmly, grimacing slightly, though most of the mess had ended up on the floor. He swiftly conjured a basin, then Scourgified the carpet and himself before noticing the boy fighting back another bout of nausea. He deftly held his son's head as Harry vomited once more. "Easy, don't fight it . . ." Tears of embarrassment were trickling down his son's cheeks, Severus quickly conjured a wet cloth and blotted them, then placed it on the back of Harry's neck.

Five minutes later, the nausea had passed and Severus vanished the basin and helped Harry to his feet. The mortified child refused to look at him, so Severus gently steered him to the bed and lifted him onto it. "I'm going to give you a few potions, one will settle your stomach, the other is a Calming Draft, and the last is a Dreamless Sleep Potion."

He waved his wand and the three potions popped into view on his nightstand. One was a deep pink and frothy, the other was clear with a tinge of blue, and the last was a fizzy silver color.

"First drink the Anti-Nausea Draft." Severus instructed, unstoppering the fizzy pink potion and pouring a dose into a small cup.

Harry took it and drank it slowly, it tasted faintly of mint but was otherwise not bad. It went to work immediately, and he felt blessed relief as his stomach settled.

"Better now?"

"Yes." Harry felt himself go bright crimson.

"Now drink this." Severus handed him the entire vial of the Calming Draught.

Harry downed it in two swallows, it tasted like oranges and mangos.

That too worked almost instantly, and he felt the last of the awful fear and shame drift away from him. He lifted his eyes from their contemplation of the carpet and met his father's gaze. "I'm sorry . . I just . . . I was so scared . . .I couldn't breathe and then . . .I'm sorry . . .Dad," he found himself babbling, not even realizing what he was saying.

Severus froze upon hearing his son at last acknowledge him as his father, but he quickly erased the surprise from his features and sat next to his son, holding the vial of Dreamless Sleep. "Don't apologize, Harry. You had an anxiety attack, it would seem those nightmares are much worse than you told me, if this is the kind of reaction they produce. You did right in coming to me, son. How are you feeling now?"

"I . . .feel kind of happy . . .well sort of . . .like I'm somewhere pleasant. . ."

"Not nervous or upset?"

"No."

"Good. Would you like to tell me about your nightmare? Sometimes it helps if you talk about it."

Harry hesitated. He felt like such a baby, reacting so hysterically over a mere dream, but he'd already embarrassed himself tonight, so might as well go the whole nine yards. "I was surrounded by dementors. It was down by the Black Lake, and I was frozen, I couldn't move . . ." He related as best he could the way the dementors had come for him and the chilling voice that had spoken to him just before it started to remove its hood. " . . .then I woke up yelling I'm not Harry Potter, and then I just . . .fell apart, Dad." Somehow, the appellation just slipped out, and it was a minute before Harry realized what he'd said. I finally said it. I called him Dad. He shot a look at Severus from under his eyelashes and saw that the man actually looked pleased, at least his mouth was quirked in a faint half-smile.

"That's true. You aren't Harry Potter. It would seem that your subconscious was trying to tell you something, wouldn't you say? As for the dementors, I can understand why you dream of them, for they are truly terrifying creatures. And you faced down a whole pack of them. You should be proud of yourself, son. Few grown wizards could do what you did."

"Then why am I so scared of them now?"

"Perhaps because you nearly died before defeating them? Sometimes the fear of failure can cause you to panic, plus you've been under a great deal of stress lately. Stress and fear go together, usually. That's one reason why I wanted you to stay here with me, so you could have a safe place to unwind, and someone to care for you properly. You have had too much responsibility placed upon you for a fourteen year old, Harry. It's bound to wear on you." Here Severus paused, cleared his throat, then said, "If it will help alleviate some of the stress you've been experiencing, I will tell you that I have spoken with Professor Dumbledore again and forbidden him to put you in harm's way anymore with regards to Voldemort and his allies. You do not have to be a hero, son. This war, if there is one, should be fought by adults, not teenagers. I will protect you to the best of my ability, against anyone who threatens your wellbeing, up to and including Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore would never harm me!" Harry protested weakly.

"No? Maybe not intentionally, but he has harmed you plenty by allowing you to take risks with your safety that no child should. That debacle with Quirrel and the Sorcerers Stone could have been avoided, the duel with the basilisk nearly finished you, if not for Fawkes, we'd have been mourners at a funeral. And the whole escapade with Black and the dementors should never have occurred, you should never have been out of bed wandering the school grounds in the middle of the night with a suspected murderer on the loose. Had I known then what I do now, young man . . .I would have made certain you remained safely in the school, even if I had to lock you in your room and glue you to your bed with a Sticking Charm."

"You wouldn't really do that!"

"Wouldn't I?" Severus challenged. "I would do . . . almost anything to ensure your safety, Harry Snape. Never doubt that. Your life, child, is a precious gift and should not be wasted or thrown away, even in the name of a crusade for good. Dumbledore means well, but he uses people for his own ends, without counting the cost until later, when it's too late. He may weep over your grave afterwards, but he would still send you out to face Voldemort or Grindelwald or whatever dark wizard is currently threatening the peace and stability of this realm. I refuse to let him use you like that, Harry. Right now your primary concern should be graduating Hogwarts with honors, not facing a megalomaniac and his followers. I wish, above all, to have you live a normal life, like most of your peers. And I am trying, as much as I can, to make that happen here."

Harry was quiet for a long time, absorbing what his father had said. It was a tremendous weight off his soul, to know that he had an adult to care for him, to protect him, which was not something he had ever had before. For the first time in his life he was not responsible for himself alone, now that Severus was there, he could at last be a normal teenager. He felt a wave of relief wash over him so great that tears prickled his eyes.

"I . . .thank you, Dad. It doesn't . . .I mean I can't even tell you how much . . ." he floundered, unable to articulate how profoundly grateful he was, and feeling like a tongue-tied fool.

Severus put a finger to his lips and said gently, "No words are necessary, Harry. I understand." Then he reached out and hugged his son, reassuring him without words that he would always be there, whenever Harry needed him.

Harry froze, the gesture was at once both welcome and surprising, and he didn't know quite how to react. Then he relaxed against the older man and allowed himself to be held and comforted, finding the solace he had always craved but had never known he needed, until now.

They remained that way for a long time, until Harry felt himself starting to drift off, and jerked awake. The emotional rollercoaster he'd been on tonight had worn him out, both physically and mentally. Yet he was afraid to sleep, for fear of the nightmares returning.

"Tired, son?"

"Mmm-hmm," Harry mumbled, unable to articulate better than that.

"Are you sure you want to sleep in your room, or would you like to sleep here tonight?"

For an instant, Harry almost agreed, he was very tired and Severus's presence was so very comforting, and his bed was warm and inviting. But then he recalled that Draco was in the room down the hall, and if he ever learned that Harry had spent the night with Severus, like a baby afraid of the dark . . .he would never live it down. So he said softly, "No, I can go back and sleep in my own room. I'm fourteen, not four, remember?"

"Very well. Take this with you," Severus handed him the vial of Dreamless Sleep. He was running low on it and would need to brew some more, he had a feeling Harry was going to need it over the next few days. He made a mental note to turn the clock back once more, for he knew that Harry and Draco would need time to adjust to each other and to mend from their respective past traumas.

Harry took the vial, drawing away from the Potions Master.

To his surprise, Severus accompanied him back to his room and stayed there until he had drank the potion, explaining that it would send him to sleep almost immediately, and he should wake feeling refreshed.

The Dreamless Sleep Potion tasted like warm milk and honey and lavender all mixed together, and as soon as the last drop had hit his tongue, Harry's eyes closed. He sagged in a boneless heap and Severus gently tucked his son into bed, brushed the hair away from his forehead, and whispered tenderly, "Good night, child."

He waited a moment more, watching his son sleep, his face so innocent and childlike in repose. This is what should have been, all those years ago. I cannot change the past, but I can give you what you should have had long ago-a home, a family, and my love and protection. That much I can do.

Then he turned off the lamp and left, going next to his godson's room to check up on him. He found Draco sound asleep, snoring softly. Severus gently rearranged the boy's legs and arms, for he was sprawled half off the bed, and tucked the blankets about him. Draco never stirred.

Two orphan storm birds, both seeking shelter in your arms, Severus, his conscience whispered. Can you provide them with the safe haven, love, discipline, and understanding they need?

Yes. I will try my best, his heart answered, and that would have to be enough. Too many adults had failed to provide the boys with those basic things, but the Potions Master vowed he would not do the same. Severus Snape was many things, but he was a man of his word always.

Then he departed to his own room, where he slept deeply until the sun rose.

The next morning, Harry awoke feeling much better and though he still felt twinges of embarrassment when he recalled the way he'd gotten sick all over Severus like a baby, he had to admit that last night had been the catalyst in their relationship. The way his father had comforted and held him had finally caused Harry to trust the older man, and he was no longer fearful that Severus would revert back to the old bitter man he had been and treat Harry with condescension and resentment. Last night, Severus had behaved like a father, not the greasy git of the dungeons, for which Harry thanked Merlin, God, and whoever else was listening.

He smirked just thinking of how Ron would react to that bit of news, never mind the fact that Draco was now living in the same house as Harry. He wondered why he hadn't heard from either of his friends recently, perhaps they hadn't been able to locate him now that he lived at the manor? But Draco had managed to send a letter to Severus, so why couldn't Ron or Hermione? Sirius's lack of a response was disturbing too, and Harry was beginning to get more than a little irritated at his friends and godfather.

So what if Severus Snape was his father? The man wasn't evil, he risked himself daily as a spy and he had stood up for Harry when no one else cared to do so. He knew that Sirius still carried some resentment towards Snape from their school days, but surely he could let it die now, especially given what Severus had done for his son. He ought to be glad that I'm here, with someone who cares about me as more than a mere hero, who wants to protect me and who loves me for me, rather than stuck with the Dursleys, who hurt and abused me for years while Dumbledore watched and did nothing. And my mum loved Severus, so that should count for something. They were engaged, so it's not like she was cheating on James with Dad or anything. She would've married him if it hadn't been for his undercover work.

Sighing, he slid out from beneath the covers and padded across the hall to take a shower before Draco woke up and used up all the hot water. Harry was never going to take another cold shower as long as he lived, for that had been all he'd been allowed to have when he'd lived under Vernon's thumb.

So he luxuriated in the steamy water, soaking the warmth deep into his skin, allowing it to soothe the last of the weariness and stiffness from his body. Oh, but this was heaven! Almost all he ever longed for was right here, with decent plentiful meals, a parent to watch over him, and showers with endless hot water. The only thing missing were his friends.

He was jerked out of his reverie by a sharp pounding on the door, and Draco yelling, "Merlin, Snape, what'd you do, fall in and drown? Y'mind hurrying up in there, Princess Harriet? Some of us would like to use the facilities."

"Keep your shirt on, Draco!" Harry called back irritably, his fine mood ruined by the other's presence. "I'll be done in a second."

"You'd better be, and you had better not have used all the hot water, either."

Harry deliberated lingered a few minutes longer, wanting to tell Draco to shove it where the sun didn't shine. But he controlled that impulse by following Severus's advice and counting to twenty before replying.

"Harry! Merlin's bloody arse! Hurry up!"

Harry smirked for Draco sounded annoyed and desperate, and he quickly dried off and put on his clothes before at last unlocking the door.

"Finally!" snapped an irate Draco. "What happened? Couldn't stop admiring yourself in the mirror?"

"Hardly. That's your line, Draco. You're the prince of peacocks."

"And you're the king of imbeciles," sneered his cousin. Then he rushed quickly to use the toilet.

Now Harry felt a little guilty for taking his sweet time, he hadn't known Draco had to pee, otherwise he'd of been done fifteen minutes ago. "Sorry, I didn't know that you were so desperate," he said lamely.

Draco glared at him. "What part of "hurry up" don't you understand? I felt like I was gonna explode. Stupid Gryffindor!"

Harry bristled. "I'd rather be stupid than act like a snotnosed kid with a stick up my arse."

He turned to leave, only to have Draco nearly slam the door shut on his head. "Hey! Watch what the hell you're doing! You almost closed the door on my head!"

"Oh, was that your head there?" Draco asked innocently. "It's almost too big to fit through the door, Mr. Celebrity."

"Shove off, Malfoy. If your ego got any bigger you'd need half of Hogwarts to contain it." Harry snapped, rubbing his head, which had caught part of the door.

Draco sniggered. "What is it you Muggles always say? If you've got it, flaunt it? Now get out, Snape, and don't let the door hit you in the arse this time." He shut the door practically in Harry's face.

"I'd like to kick your arse, you miserable . . ." he trailed off, muttering several more uncomplimentary things about his unwanted cousin under his breath, recalling Severus's dictates about swearing.

He stalked towards the kitchen, only then remembering he hadn't fed Hedwig yet. He headed back into his room to make sure the bird was covered, drafts could kill her, and had fresh food and water.

It was then that a brown owl approached upon silent wings to deliver the mail. In her beak and talons were two letters, both for him, and one of the return addresses was from the Burrow and the other was Hermione's home address.

The letters brightened his mood considerable, he took them from the owl and fed it a treat and thanked it. Then, once he had tended to a sleepy Hedwig, leaving her cage door open so she was free to come and go as she pleased, he sat down to read his long-awaited mail.

Harry had to chuckle at that last. It would seem Mrs. Weasley used the same methods as Petunia to keep her kids in line.

At least Ron seemed okay with Harry's shocking news now. Bet his parents reamed his arse out though, Harry thought, knowing Ron's temper the way he did, he'd probably gone off the deep end when he first heard the news.

This letter had been dated August 10th though, a few days after he'd arrived at the manor. Harry wondered if he'd received it so late because of the time difference. Maybe that's what had happened to Sirius's letter too.

Well, Ron, you won't have to rescue me from my father, but I sure wish you were here to keep me from strangling Draco.

Ron would probably faint if he learned Draco was now a permanent member of the Snape household. Smirking, he set about penning a reply to Ron's letter, telling him about Draco.

After he'd finished bitching and moaning to Ron about Malfoy, he opened Hermione's letter. In her characteristic neat script, she had written:

Harry rolled his eyes. It was like Hermione to remark on how great it was to have the perfectionist teacher for a dad, because she was obsessed with learning. And to ask him about his marks on top of it! He had done well, all things considered, though he wondered if Severus knew about the D he'd gotten in History of Magic. If he did, he was taking it remarkably well, though Harry suspected his father didn't know, otherwise he'd have been giving Harry the lecture of the decade.

That was one of the drawbacks about having a parent, now he was answerable to someone besides himself, someone who would be able to issue punishments if Harry didn't meet his standards. Still, perhaps Hermione was right, and he could learn a great deal of useful information from the Potions Master.

Look at how he had improved Harry's penmanship and potions skills. Severus had even taught him some new defensive spells as well as a form of unarmed martial arts used by the fae called kin-sa-dor. Kin-sa-dor, literally shadow-feint-combat in High Court language, used the opponent's own body and strength against him, it was a graceful, subtle form of combat, one that relied more on speed and preciseness than strength. But a kin-sa-dor master was a deadly fighter if he wished to be, and could kill with a single jab of a finger.

Severus had been practicing the discipline for years, and while not yet a match for his half-fae instructor, who also happened to be a distant cousin, he was still very skilled and a competent instructor.

Harry was hoping to have another kin-sa-dor session today, after breakfast and chores. Severus usually held sessions twice a week, combining the martial arts instruction with DADA lessons. In a much better mood now than he had been earlier that morning, Harry sent replies off with Hedwig to his friends, then headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. He paused beside the large colored chart on the wall, checking his list of chores for the day. Severus usually gave him three additional chores to complete besides keeping his room neat and dusting.

Today his duties included being the dishwasher, sweeping the walks outside, and watering the flowers in the garden.

Harry's stomach growled, and he hoped Severus had made something substantial to eat, like pancakes and sausage, today. He continued into the kitchen, only to discover that this morning Severus had chosen to make oatmeal, not Harry's favorite breakfast food at all, since it tended to taste like paste half the time.

"Oatmeal, Dad?" he groaned.

Severus glanced up from where he was slicing bananas at the counter. "I thought after last night this would be easier on your stomach than something fried or drowned in syrup. Why? You don't like oatmeal?"

"Uh . . .not really. It always tastes like glue," Harry complained.

"That's because you don't know how to make it properly."

"Yeah, you've never tasted oatmeal like Uncle Sev's," said Draco, walking into the kitchen just in time to overhear Harry's last remark. "It actually tastes good, not like that gross gunk they serve at school."

Harry looked at the bowl of steaming porridge in the middle of the table dubiously.

"Here," Severus dished his son up a portion when it became obvious Harry wasn't going to try it on his own. The Potions Master added a spoonful of brown sugar, a bit of cream, a few banana slices and topped it off with a handful of chopped walnuts. He set it in front of Harry and said, "Try it." Then he turned to his godson. "Draco. Sit and eat, you can study the chart afterwards."

Draco came to sit down, serving himself a large portion of oatmeal with everything on it. He began eating hungrily, as did Severus.

Harry tentatively took a spoonful and discovered that far from being disgusting and bland, the oatmeal tasted delicious. It was nutty and slightly sweet, the bananas were the perfect compliment to it and Harry found himself eagerly spooning it down his throat.

"This is really good," he muttered, forgetting he had a mouthful of oatmeal.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, boy," Severus reprimanded. "You ought to have learned proper table manners by now, Harry Snape."

Harry flushed, embarrassed at being scolded like a toddler, and Draco sniggered, clearly delighted to see his rival called to account by his stern teacher for his sloppy table manners.

Harry shot the Slytherin a glare that could've scorched his skin off, then resumed eating silently, making sure to chew and swallow before opening his mouth again.

Severus then set a glass of red juice in front of Harry instead of his usual milk or pumpkin juice. "What's this?" he queried.

"Pomegranate and cranberry juice. It has essential anti-oxidants and vitamins you need."

Harry eyed the juice warily, unsure if he wanted to sample yet another new thing. "Why can't I just have pumpkin juice?"

"It's not as healthy for you," Severus replied crisply. "Just drink it, Harry. It won't kill you."

"Merlin, but you sure are a picky eater. No wonder you're vitamin deficient," Draco commented sneakily. "Sorry we don't have caviar to serve you, Your Highness."

Before Harry could respond to that taunt, Severus cut in, saying silkily, "Draco, how would you like to do all your chores plus Harry's for that comment?"

"No, sir! I'll be good, I promise!"

"Then might I tell you to watch your mouth and think about what you say before you say it," growled the professor. "Harry's vitamin deficiency had nothing to do with his eating habits."

"What does it have to do with, then?" asked Draco curiously.

"None of your business, Malfoy!" Harry snapped, taking the glass of juice and sipping at it.

"Settle down, the pair of you!" barked their father. "Draco, Harry's reason for taking a Nutrient Potion is something he must choose to share with you, it is a private matter. After breakfast, once you've finished your chores, you may come and find me and we can have a quick lesson on brewing a Deflating Draft."

"Then can we have Defense, Dad?" asked Harry eagerly. " I want to practice some more kin-sa-dor."

"You're teaching him kin-sa-dor too, Uncle Sev?" cried Draco, dismayed. "But you told me that you could only teach it to family members."

"Draco-" began Snape, only to be interrupted by Harry.

"Hello? What do you think I am? The light's on but there's nobody home, huh, Draco?"

Now it was Draco's turn to go red and flustered. "Shut up! Just . . . shut up, you dungbeetle."

Severus slammed his hand down on the table, making them jump. "One more snide comment out of you two and you'll be scrubbing the kitchen floor with a toothbrush. Quit this petty bickering."

"Sorry, sir," Harry apologized.

"Sorry, Uncle Severus," Draco echoed.

"I don't need apologies, boys. I need you to change your attitude right now. Otherwise you'll both be very sorry," Severus warned. Yes, it was definitely time to turn the clock back and give the boys and himself time to adjust to their new roles. Otherwise one of them was going to commit murder.

Harry bit his lip and slowly counted to twenty. He resolved to just pretend Draco didn't exist for the rest of the afternoon, and so avoid a quarrel altogether. That tactic worked until they had their potions lab together, and Draco commented on how pitiful most of the Gryffindors were at making potions, especially that great pudding, Longbottom.

"His mum must've dropped him on the head as a baby or something, because he still can't manage to brew a simple Boil Cure without melting a cauldron," snickered Draco. "What an idiot!" He began to carefully stir his potion.

"You're one to talk, Draco, considering who you hang out with. Crabbe and Goyle aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer either. It's like being next to Dumb and Dumber. Is that why you're friends with them, so you can look like you're a genius, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, compelled to come to Neville's defense.

"Bugger off, Harry!" hissed Draco, looking quickly around for Snape. But the Potions Master had departed to fetch some more ingredients and so missed their entire conversation-lucky for them. "I'm friends with them because that's how my father wanted it."

"You always let your dad pick your friends?"

Draco glared at the other boy, not wanting to discuss that particular subject. "Mind your own business, Snape. And watch your cauldron, the mixture's supposed to simmer, not become a blackened mess."

Harry turned back to his cauldron and muttered a spell to lower the fire. It was almost too late, the mixture was a thick, unpleasant looking gray. "Why the hell didn't you warn me sooner, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged. "How was I supposed to know you needed a warning for something so obvious? Am I your keeper now, Harry?"

Harry angrily turned back and tried to salvage his potion, calling Draco every bad word he knew in his head. Sodding great prat! He just wanted Harry to fail so Severus would yell at him again and show the professor that Draco was the better potions student. "At least I don't have to cheat to get good marks," he snarled, stirring frantically.

"What are you talking about? I never cheat!"

"Says who?" laughed Harry.

"Me. You're the one who's hopeless, Harry."

"Like hell I am. You've sabotaged half my potions ever since I started going to Hogwarts, you conniving little sneak!" shouted Harry, coming around his cauldron to glare right into Draco's face. "You just couldn't bear a Gryffindor getting points over a Slytherin in potions, could you? Or are you going to tell me your daddy told you to do that too? And you just obeyed him, like a good little boy, didn't you, Draco darling?"

"You're delusional, batty as old Binns, Potter," sneered Draco, his gray eyes smoldering. "You don't know a damn thing about my life, so why don't you take your theories and stick them up your-"

"Enough!" snarled a steely voice behind them.

Both boys froze, then turned slowly to face a very irate Potions Master.

"I warned you, gentlemen, what would happen if you continued this senseless bickering." Severus snapped his fingers and a large bucket of soapy water appeared on the floor, along with two toothbrushes. "Start scrubbing, gentlemen."

"B-but Uncle Sev, he started it!" Draco sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

"The floor, Mr. Malfoy." One finger stabbed down at the stone floor. "Now."

"You never said we'd have to scrub the dungeon, sir," Draco protested stubbornly. "You said it was the kitchen."

"I changed my mind," Severus said silkily, glaring right at Draco. "Keep backtalking me, mister, and you'll be scrubbing this entire manor with the damn toothbrush. Now do as your told." He took a step forward, his face forbidding as stone, and Draco immediately dropped to his knees and snatched up the toothbrush.

Harry was already scrubbing, knowing better than to argue once Snape's mind was made up.

Severus watched them for a moment, then banished the contents of their cauldrons. "An entire afternoon's worth of potions ingredients wasted because you felt like squabbling instead of working. Disgraceful! I'm taking it out of your allowance this week, and you can re-do this lab tomorrow-as partners."

Harry and Draco exchanged horrified glances. Partners? That was just too cruel.

"This dungeon better be spotless when I return, boys." Snape said frostily. "Or else you can do it over again after supper." Then he shut the door hard, disgusted at their infantile behavior.

And that incident was just the beginning.

From that afternoon on, war was declared between the two apprentice wizards, as each tried to one-up the other one. Each did their best to make the other look bad in front of Severus, whose patience was fast wearing thin with all of their wrangling. By the time two weeks had gone by, both boys had managed to get the other extra chores, lines, a three-foot essay on discipline and respect, twenty minutes in a corner, and two minutes with a bar of soap for continuous name-calling.

Each time they were punished, their behavior would alter for a time, but eventually they would backslide to their old ways, until it seemed that the only way the two would get along would be if Severus knocked their heads together. It was an option the frustrated Potions Master was considering very seriously, when the final straw occurred one sunny afternoon.

For once, both boys had managed to stay out of trouble and earn themselves an afternoon of free time, and Harry had been itching to try out a new Quidditch move Ron had told him about last term called the Wronski Feint. He took his Firebolt and began to practice, totally ignoring Draco, who was playing with a Snitch on the other side of the manor, hoping the blond would take the hint and leave.

No such luck.

No sooner had Harry begun to practice, the Slytherin flew over to him and challenged him to a race.

"Later. I'm busy." Harry said shortly, concentrating on his turns.

"Sure you are. Busy trying to make an ass out of yourself," mocked Draco. "Give it up, Snape. You'll never be as good as Krum. You don't have what it takes to be a professional Seeker."

"Oh, right. Like you would know."

"I've been watching Quidditch since I could talk, and I know more about it than you ever will. Now what do you say to a race? Winner gets to order the loser about for a day."

Harry hesitated. The idea of letting Draco order him about for a day didn't hold any appeal for him. Then again, he knew he was a better flyer than the blond wizard, so he should have nothing to worry about. He also had the better broom. Not even the Nimbus 2001 could match the Firebolt for sheer acceleration and speed.

"Fine. Hope you're prepared to do some major sucking up, Malfoy," Harry agreed.

"That's what you think, Snape. I'm gonna make you polish all my shoes with a toothbrush. And call me Master Draco, just like a house elf." Draco threatened, mounting his broom.

"You wish, Malfoy. You'll be eating my dust." Harry mounted his own broom, then kicked off in a roar of displaced air. "Where does the race end?"

Draco pointed to a large fir tree over on the far side of the Prince land. "There. Still game?"

"You bet your pureblood arse I am." Harry crouched over his broom.

"Ready. Set. Go!" Draco shouted and urged his Nimbus into full flight.

Harry had already taken his Firebolt halfway across the sky by the time Draco was a quarter length behind him. He was grinning in sheer delight, the wind in his ears was the sweetest music imaginable.

Furious, Draco decided to take steps to prevent his rival from winning. Instead of trying to race Harry on a straight path, Draco decided to use a short cut. He knew he could shave off three minutes by taking the shorter route through the apple orchard.

The only problem was that Harry reached the same point in the path as Draco did, and couldn't stop in time to avoid Draco. The two crashed into each other with a resounding THUD!

Both of them nearly fell off their brooms and Harry immediately began accusing Draco of trying to cheat. "What do you call that, Malfoy? You almost got us killed!"

"It's called a shortcut, in case you've never heard the term before, Snape. What's the matter? Didn't have those where you came from?"

"Shortcut my arse! You were trying to cheat and you know it."

"Ha! Like I need to cheat to beat you. You couldn't fly your way out of a parchment sack. That Firebolt's wasted on you, Hopeless." Draco snorted, using the nickname he'd coined for Harry the day of the disastrous potions lab.

"I'm twenty times the flyer you are, Malfoy, and you know it. Otherwise you wouldn't need to cheat in order to win."

"Up yours, Snape!" Draco had landed now and was gazing at Harry with undisguised antipathy. "Every time one of you Gryffindors is losing, you cry foul and say we cheated. Well, not this time. Nobody ever said I couldn't use the shortcut, now quit whining and accept it."

"Cheating little git!" Harry cried, then he shoved Draco hard.

The blond was caught off-guard and landed on the ground with a thump. "Filthy Mudblood lover!" spat the irate pureblood. He was on his feet almost immediately, fists lifted. He swung a quick right cross at Harry's head.

Harry ducked, only to get a punch in the jaw when Draco brought his other hand into play. Shaking his head to clear it, he sprang at Draco, bearing him to the ground and then pounding the daylights out of him.

He had just bloodied the Slytherin's perfect nose when Draco retaliated with some moves he'd picked up from kin-sa-dor, kicking Harry hard in the stomach and knocking him backwards.

Harry managed to reduce the shock of impact by rolling on the ground, then he was up and swinging.

Draco feinted right, then left, and caught Harry in the eye with a well-timed right cross. "Now maybe you'll see things my way, Snape!"

Harry tackled him about the legs, knocking him backwards , and Draco nearly hit his head on the trunk of an oak tree. The blond cursed Harry softly, rubbing the back of his head. Then he came up and slammed Harry against the ground so hard that Harry's front tooth cut into his bottom lip.

Blood trickled down his lip as Harry spat into the grass and kicked out with a foot, catching Draco painfully on the knee.

Draco yelped loudly, feeling his knee begin to swell. He promptly rabbit-punched Harry in the ribs.

Harry gasped, but he'd been pounded on before by Dudley and could take a great deal of punishment. Draco's punch was painful, but not as bad as he'd hoped and Harry grabbed two fistfuls of Draco's collar and proceeded to bash the Slytherin's head back against the ground.

It was anyone's guess who would have won, for at that precise moment, a hand reached out and yanked Harry off of Draco and held him suspended in mid-air. Then Draco was dragged up from the ground as well to hang opposite his rival, and the pair of them swallowed hard and turned to gaze up at a very furious pair of obsidian eyes.

Severus had come out to investigate and he was most displeased at finding his son and his ward trying their best to smear the other all over the ground.

"That does it!" Severus snarled, his patience evaporating. "I have had it up to here with you two squabbling like two jealous dogs over a damn bone. I gave you plenty of chances to modify your behavior and still you persist in this endless feud. Well, no more! You've broken your word to me for the last time."

He set the boys down briefly, just long enough to give first one and then the other a resounding smack on the rear. Then he tossed both of his rebellious sons over a shoulder, ignoring their protests, and marched back inside the manor, his jaw clenched.

Merlin help me, Harry thought, hanging upside down over Snape's shoulder like a sack of turnips. I am so dead. Sick with shame and not a little fear, he gulped and wondered if he was going to have a whole skin left when his father got through with him.

Severus brought the two boys directly into the kitchen, where he set them down none-too-gently on two hard wooden chairs. Both boys winced, but neither of them dared to protest, for they sensed the older man was at the limit of his tolerance and one wrong word might send him over the edge.

Severus raked them up and down with a ferocious glower and then pulled his wand to run a diagnostic on each of them.

Both teenagers jumped as he leveled the tip of his wand at them and he gave a disgusted snort, saying irritably, "Oh, please! Don't act like I'm going to blast you into next week, though the idea is tempting, I'll admit. You know perfectly well I've never used harmful magic on any child in my care, no matter how irritating they may be." Both boys relaxed slightly at that declaration. "Now hold still, I'm going to run a standard diagnostic so I can see what you did to yourselves."

Not that most of the damage wasn't plain to see upon their faces, he thought angrily. Harry had a beautiful shiner on his left eye and Draco's nose was swollen and trickling blood. The blond also had a large bruise across one cheekbone plus a nasty cut across one eyebrow. Harry had a fat lip that was bleeding sluggishly and the professor's keen eyes caught the way his son was cradling his arm about his chest, suggesting bruised ribs. Draco was favoring his right knee, not putting his weight on it. 

Bloody damn hell, Sev, but they look like they've been through the first Wizard War and fought all the minions of Voldemort singlehandedly. God grant me the patience to keep from throttling them.

His diagnostic revealed no major trauma to either of the boys, for which he was profoundly grateful. The worst injuries were Draco's wrenched knee and a bump on the back of his head, while Harry had badly bruised ribs and an odd contusion just above his navel, where one of the standard pressure points was located.

Severus's eyes slitted to ebony shards of fury. Kin-sa-dor. Those little brats were using kin-sa-dor upon each other! How DARE they? He took a deep breath, trying to restrain himself. Or at least one of them was, judging by the size of the bruise on Harry's stomach, the more rational part of his mind reminded him.

He tucked his wand back in his robes, counted to twenty, then spun on his godson. "Draco, did you attack Harry using kin-sa-dor techniques?" he rasped.

Draco gulped hard, for his godfather looked ready to chew him up and spit him out. He had never seen that particular expression of anger upon the elder wizard's face before, not even the time Draco had mouthed off to him and earned himself a spanking. Then, the anger had been mingled with disappointment. Now, there was only black fury.

Merlin save me, but I'm dead, the blond thought frantically. For one of Snape's ironclad rules was that his students never use kin-sa-dor in earnest upon anything save a mortal enemy. But in the heat of the fight, Draco had not been thinking, and he'd just reacted.

"Uh . . .I might have, sir."

"Might have?" Snape repeated dangerously. "Either you did or not. Yes or no, Draco. Answer the question."

"Yes . . .sir," he admitted, his voice quivering slightly. Then he added swiftly, in a last ditch attempt to mitigate Severus's wrath, "But I didn't really mean to, sir! I . . .wasn't thinking, I just got mad . . ."

"I see. Then you don't consider Harry an enemy?"

"Huh?"

"Do you consider Harry an enemy?" Severus repeated implacably. "It's a simple question, boy. Now answer it."

"No . . .I-I mean I don't really . . .we don't get along . . .he's a Gryffindor, sir . . .but I wouldn't want him dead or anything."

"No?" Severus's voice cut like a whip, and he reached out to pull Draco up so the blond was looking right into his eyes. "Then what in hell were you doing using lethal combat techniques on him, Draco Michael Malfoy? You could have killed him if you'd hit him just a little harder. Ruptured his stomach wall and caused him to bleed internally. What the bloody damn hell were you thinking, young man?" he roared, shaking Draco sharply.

"I . . .I wasn't . . ." coughed Draco miserably.

"What was that?"

"I said, I wasn't thinking, sir."

"Damn straight you weren't. If you'd been thinking about anything save your stupid schoolboy rivalry, you would've remembered my first and most important rule for kin-sa-dor. It is to be used only against a mortal enemy, not against your foster brother. Damn it, Mr. Malfoy, you know that! How many years have I been tutoring you?"

"Four, sir."

"Four years. You have no excuse then. You ought to have learned discipline and restraint by now." His teacher declared coldly. "However, since you haven't, perhaps I should stop teaching you. For if you can forget yourself over a few childish taunts or whatever, you can't be relied on in a true fight."

"No! Please, Uncle Severus!" Draco begged. "Don't do that! I want to continue the training. I promise I'll do better."

Severus eyed him consideringly. "I'll reserve judgement for now. You're on probation, however. Starting now. Step out of line once more, boy, and I'll cancel the lessons permanently and Obliviate the knowledge from your mind. For anything less than a dedicated practitioner is too dangerous."

"I understand, sir."

"I certainly hope so. I expected much better from you," Severus frowned in disapproval. "From both of you, as a matter of fact." He snapped his fingers and a basin and two cloths plus several jars appeared on the kitchen table. "Start talking, Mr. Snape, while I tend to the mess you've made of yourselves." Wordlessly, he began fixing up the boys' faces, cleaning away the clotted blood and applying magical salve where necessary. He had Harry remove his shirt so he could heal his ribs and navel, using both a spell and salve. Then he did likewise with Draco's knee and head, wrapping the blond's knee in a pressure bandage just in case.

By then Harry had finished relating what had happened. Severus vanished the first-aid items, then whirled about and paced for several long minutes with his hands clasped behind his back, scowling blackly. Clearly, his temper was still smoldering.

Draco and Harry sat still as mice, wondering what punishment he was going to come up with this time.

At last Severus stopped pacing and came to stand before them. "So, you were fighting because of a race over which Draco cheated, or at least Harry thought he cheated, and instead of settling it in mature fashion, like another contest, you two brilliant imbeciles decide to beat each other senseless. Have I left anything out, gentlemen, or did I miss something?"

"No, sir," the two answered, very subdued.

"I cannot tell you how sick and tired I am of your endless squabbling. You're like two roosters, fighting at the slightest provocation over the stupidest things. Sometimes I wonder if you two really are fourteen, because you've been behaving like a pair of four-year-olds ever since Draco walked through the door two weeks ago. I ask you to promise me to behave and practice tolerance and instead what do I get? Jealousy, attitudes, and smart mouths. Well, I've had it up to here with it. I've half a mind to take you both over my knee for a good licking, punish you like the four-year-olds you've acted like." He shook his head disgustedly. "Here I thought I was raising two teenagers, not two bratty preschool babies! It would seem I was mistaken. Go to your rooms, both of you. I'm so disgusted I can't stand the sight of you." He pointed a finger at the entrance to the kitchen. "Well, get moving! NOW!"

Draco and Harry jumped to their feet like scalded cats and scuttled down the hallway as fast as they could. They had been granted a reprieve of sorts, but only until Severus mastered his temper.

The two exchanged glances and once they were far away enough from the kitchen, held a quick conversation. "What do you think he's gonna do to us?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. "Haven't a clue. But we sure as blazes won't like it, that much I know."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, really? Because I was looking forward to another round of scrubbing the dungeon with a toothbrush, or writing I will not have an attitude towards my father three hundred times, or eating a bar of English Lavender for lunch like the last time."

"You forgot getting your bum whacked with a wooden spoon," Draco added with a grimace.

"He's never done that to me, only threatened that he would."

"Lucky you."

Harry halted. "Wait. You don't mean he actually . . .when he spanked you that time . . .?"

"No. Not then. After that. He . . .he caught me trying to cast a Withering Curse on some roses in my garden and he damn near had a fit. Told me I shouldn't be walking down such a dark road and such spells weren't meant to be played around with and I had better things to learn and next thing I knew he'd summoned a wooden spoon and bent me over and walloped me two times with it. It wasn't really a spanking, but it hurt."

Harry winced in sympathy. "Ow. Bet you never practiced that spell again."

"No. After that I started thinking about what it was I really wanted to do with my life. And I decided I didn't want to be like my father. Otherwise I wouldn't be here now." Draco shook his head. "He's right, you know. We have been behaving like dumbasses. I promised him I'd get along with you before I came here, same as you did."

"I know." Harry agreed. He recalled Severus saying he was so disgusted he couldn't stand the sight of them, and he knew he deserved every bit of his father's scorn and anger. "I feel really bad now." He scowled at his rival. "You know, none of this would've ever happened if you didn't start crap with me, Draco."

"Me? How about you? Don't act all bleeding innocent, Snape!" spat Malfoy. "You're just as guilty as I am for this mess, more so even. You knocked me on the ground first."

"Yeah, but you used kin-sa-dor on me, so we're even." Harry argued. "Look, let's just forget about it for now, okay? We're already in so much trouble that if he catches us arguing again, he might just disown us."

"Sure, after he beat us senseless," Draco smirked. "This is the calm before the storm, Snape. Something tells me he's not just gonna smack us and ground us for a few days over this."

"Tell me about it." Harry made a face. Then he went into his own room and Draco retreated to his room also, to sit and stew and ponder their possible punishments until Severus summoned them to his study with an amplified voice spell.

Harry felt his heart drop down to his shoes, but he came out of his room and walked alongside his partner in crime down the hallway to the study. He couldn't help feeling like he was taking the last walk of the condemned. He shot a sidelong glance at Draco and saw that the blond boy was just as nervous as he was, he could tell by the nervous twitch of Draco's eyebrow. You brought this on yourself, Harry Albus Snape, his conscience reproved. Whatever he does to you, you've earned and well you know it. Even so, it didn't make him feel any better.

Draco reached the study a scant half second before Harry and turned the knob and went in.

They found their father seated behind his large mahogany desk, still looking forbidding and angry, despite having had a good forty minutes to calm down. "Sit, you two." He pointed to the two chairs in front of his desk.

The two obeyed, not looking up at him, but down at their feet.

Severus let them wait an endless five minutes before he began his lecture. "When I brought Draco home to the manor, I knew you had a past to live down with each other. But I had hoped that you two could manage to come to some sort of truce and agree to disagree about some things and learn tolerance and respect for one another. You two have a great deal of common ground, which you would have seen if you'd been concentrating on something besides trying to humiliate each other in front of me. Don't look so surprised, I'm not blind or deaf or stupid. Perhaps I was mistaken, however, in thinking you two are mature enough to shelve your differences and act like siblings . . .or barring that, at least cousins. Your actions today, especially yours, Draco, have proven to me that you can't be trusted to be let out without a keeper. But I'll deal with that later," he said ominously, and Draco suppressed a shudder.

"Since you have proven that you are nothing more than irresponsible, quarrelsome, immature brats, you will surrender your brooms to me for the rest of the summer. And that is about two months by manor time, just so you know."

"Dad!" Harry cried, for flying his Firebolt was one of the best things, and to be without it for two months . . .He'd rather be spanked with a spoon.

"Quiet, young man!" barked Severus. "I'm not done yet. Your brooms are mine and you also will be getting double the chores around here, which now includes doing the laundry by hand," Harry groaned at that, for he knew just how bad that particular chore was. "And also harvesting and pickling potion ingredients, such as rat livers, toad spleens, stinkweed, bubotubers, and crayfish eyes."

Now it was Draco's turn to groan, for he'd been Snape's apprentice potion maker before and knew firsthand that all of those ingredients were a bitch to harvest and prepare, they were hard to find, they stank, were disgusting, and it took ages to get the awful smell off of your hands and out of your nostrils.

"Last but not least, I've decided to try one last thing to get you two to cooperate instead of quarreling endlessly. The both of you will now share a room until the beginning of school. In it you are allowed to put only basic necessities, and no reading materials save your school texts."

Draco was horrified. "But Uncle Sev! You can't do that to us! It'd be like prison . . .or worse."

"Yeah. It'd be like living in hell," Harry choked. Was Severus insane? One of them would end up dead in two days.

"Oh? And what would you call what I've been living in for the past two weeks? I've done nothing but be a glorified babysitter, and try and mediate between you. I felt like checking myself into a mental institution. In addition to that, you will both have a new bedtime of nine-thirty, and we'll see if more sleep won't sweeten up your tempers," Severus said with a slight smirk. "I'll escort you to your new quarters in a moment." Then his expression changed to something more severe. "While both of you have behaved abominably, it is your actions, Draco, that have shocked and disappointed me the most. Your forbidden use of kin-sa-dor could have resulted in Harry's death. You owe him an apology, which you will deliver right now."

"Yes, sir." Draco said, then turned to Harry and said, "I'm sorry for hurting you like that. I didn't really mean to do it."

"I forgive you," Harry said.

"Actions tend to speak louder than words," Severus intoned. "That being so, I hope you remember this punishment, Mr. Malfoy." Then he withdrew a wooden spoon from his pocket. "Come here."

Draco bit his lip hard and got up.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when Draco shook his head firmly and glared at him. The proud Slytherin wanted no one to intercede for him, knowing in all fairness he deserved Snape's punishment.

"May I go, sir?" Harry spoke up then.

Severus fixed him with a stern look. "What's this? You can pound him bloody but you can't stand to see me administer a few swats, Mr. Snape? I would've thought you'd be glad he got what was coming to him."

Harry flushed. "That's different. I was mad before, when I did that. I'm not now. This . . .it's not the same. May I go, Dad?"

Severus waved him off. "Go."

Harry was out the door in a flash, and as he was shutting it, he heard Severus ordering Draco to lie over his knee.

Five seconds later, Harry heard the distinct crack of spoon on flesh and a muffled whimper.

Two minutes later Draco emerged from the study, rubbing his backside and sniffling.

"You okay?" Harry asked, then could of kicked himself. Stupid!

The Slytherin shrugged. Then he winced. "I'll live. He only gave me three. It's not as bad as . . .nevermind."

Not as bad as what? Harry wondered, but before he could query Draco further, Severus emerged from the study. 

"This way. Your new room is next to mine, and when you are not doing chores you will be spending the majority of time together in it." He led them past their former rooms and into another slightly larger one, which contained two twin beds and was colored a soft dove gray with blue carpeting. Severus waved his wand, and the boys' schoolbooks were transported inside on the two desks that were across from the two beds.

Upon opening the closet, Harry discovered all of his clothes and shoes inside, and Hedwig's cage rested next to Stormrider's beside the window, which overlooked the garden. He wondered how all of their things had gotten here so quickly, then mentally smacked himself upside the head. Obviously, Severus had brought their things here while they'd been lingering in the corridor, it would only take a minute or so for the master wizard to cast the spells. Sneaky and clever, Dad! He thought with grudging admiration.

Severus came to stand in the center of the room, hands on his hips. "This is your final warning to shape up and act your age, Harry and Draco. If I catch you fighting again, no matter the provocation, I will treat you like a pair of naughty four-year-olds and turn you over my knee for a sound spanking."

"Dad, we're fourteen!" Harry protested.

"Then start acting like it, son. Otherwise you know the consequences." Severus scolded. "As much as I dislike doing so, I will follow through with it, so beware. Now, it's nearly time for supper. Harry, it's your turn to prepare supper tonight. I'm going for a quick walk, but I'll be back in ten minutes. Hopefully you'll have managed to set the table and cook supper without committing murder."

"We'll try, Dad," Harry replied cheekily.

"Brat!" his father mock-growled, swatting him on the bottom as he went past.

Harry hid a smile, then went to do as he'd been told. 

"Behave, Dragon," he heard Severus say softly to Draco. "I trust you won't make me do that again."

"No, Uncle Sev."

Harry peeked back into the room and saw his father giving Draco a hug. He felt a sudden surge of resentment, but he quickly squashed it. Draco needed reassurance too, and Severus was only giving the Slytherin comfort the way he had Harry after he'd punished him. Draco was his ward and in a way that made him Severus's son too.

He turned around and resumed walking down the hallway.

He was followed a minute later by Draco, and for once they kept their mouths shut and completed a task in silence, without sniping or taunting. It was a small thing, but it was still a step in the right direction.

After dinner, the two boys washed and dried the dishes and put them away. Then Severus made Draco sweep the kitchen floor and Harry mop it after. The chores in themselves were not too bad, but Severus remained in the room with them while they worked, and every so often they would catch him frowning at them, and the constant supervision made Harry twitchy. He felt like a specimen in a jar, being observed by curious kids every minute.

After they had done cleaning the kitchen, Severus performed an inspection, pronounced the job adequate, then ordered them to go and take a shower. "Afterwards, you may come back down here and spend some quiet time with me before bedtime."

"Can we play Dragons Wild, Uncle Sev?" asked Draco wistfully.

Severus smiled slightly. "If you'd like."

"What's Dragons Wild?" queried Harry.

"It's the wizard version of five-card draw poker," Severus replied. "The dragon card, like the Muggle joker, is wild. We usually play for sweets, though every once in awhile I allow Draco to play me for Knuts."

"Oh. I'd like to learn, it sounds like fun," Harry said, shocking himself by putting the word fun in the same context as his arch-rival.

"Well, if you two hurry up, you might just have time for a game before bed." Severus reminded them and the two tore off down the corridor, arguing softly about who was going to get the shower first.

"Boys!" came the Potion Master's silky warning from just behind them. They jumped about a foot. But the wizard was not standing there, he'd simply projected his voice after them. "You'd better not start fighting, or else you'll be sleeping on your stomachs tonight."

The two immediately stopped arguing and Harry said, "Go on, you can go first." He knew that the manor would not ever run out of hot water, Severus had explained the pipes were heated by a spell, and the fae had made it permanent.

Draco slipped into the bathroom, summoning his pajamas to him a second later.

Harry returned to the new room and sat down on his bed, content to wait for ten minutes until his cousin had finished. Hedwig was awake now and she and Stormrider were preening each other on the window ledge. Funny, how the two owls seemed to get along fine despite their masters' intense rivalry. Harry watched them for a few moments, noting how gentle the big gray owl was towards the smaller snowy one, nibbling along the back of her neck and wings delicately, while Hedwig made strange whoo-ing noises and groomed Stormrider's chest.

If Dad were here, he'd probably tell me that I should follow my owl's example and start getting along with Draco. Sometimes I wish I was an owl. They don't have half the problems we humans do. I wonder if Hedwig misses being with her own kind, that's why she's so happy with Stormy? Or maybe it's because Stormy's easier to get along with than the prince of Malfoy Manor. Still, Draco's prickliness notwithstanding, Harry resolved to try his best to get along with his foster brother. He didn't enjoy the continuous fighting either, it reminded him too much of the Dursleys, when he had always ended up getting tormented by Dudley.

In a way, Draco reminded Harry a little of Dudley, born to wealth and privilege, and given materially whatever he wanted. But Draco behaved a little better than Dudley, he was not quite as whiny and aggravating when it came to accepting punishments from Severus. Big D would've screeched to high heaven if Dad had ever smacked him with a spoon and he'd of complained about it forever too. Draco took that better than I thought he would. And the apology he had given Harry had been sincere too. Bet that's a first. Stop it! You promised, Harry, his conscience scolded. Then he recalled Draco muttering about Severus's punishment not being as bad as another one, but he'd never explained what he meant. Wonder what he meant by that? I doubt if his parents ever disciplined him the way Severus has, else he wouldn't be such an insufferable snot. So who would have punished Draco worse than my dad? Perhaps a grandparent or another relative?

Before Harry could ponder more on Draco's comment, the blond returned to the room and said, "It's all yours, Snape. Go and marinate yourself, it'll make your ribs quit hurting."

"My ribs aren't hurting since Dad put that magic stuff on them," Harry said, rising.

"That'll bring down the swelling, but nothing feels quite as good as hot shower. So get moving, because I want to play Dragons Wild tonight, I haven't played a decent hand of poker in a long time."

Harry obeyed, for he too was eager to learn the game.

Ten minutes later, both teens were back in the den, interrupting Severus from his peaceful reverie begging him to playing Dragon's Wild.

"I have an idea, Uncle Sev," Draco began. "Instead of playing for sweets this time, why don't we play for notes? Like One Hour of No Chores, or Free Ice Cream or a day early release from our punishment. How about it?"

"You think you're pretty clever, don't you, dragonet?" chuckled Severus. "Always searching for new ways to beat the system."

"Hey, I'm a Slytherin."

"Indeed. Very well. I'll allow you to place some notes in your favor as winnings. Provided I also put notes in there with IOU's from the two of you." Severus countered, a sneaky gleam in his eyes.

"Such as?" Harry asked.

"Such as, an afternoon of no bickering. Or willingly writing an essay that describes ten good characteristics about each other. Or leaving me in peace to brew without worrying if I'm going to find you dead on the floor after two hours. That sort of thing."

"How about one that gives us our brooms back for an afternoon, Dad?" Harry suggested hopefully.

Severus eyed him shrewdly. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Yes," his son admitted. "I'd of rather gotten a licking than had my broom taken away. I love flying the way you love making potions, Dad. Or Draco loves . . ." here he trailed off, for he didn't know Draco well enough to know what he liked to do best.

"Sleeping," supplied his cousin. "What kind of teenager are you that you wouldn't know my favorite pastime? If there were a way I could sleep and cast spells at the same time, I'd be in heaven. I wish I could sleep till two o'clock everyday. Hey, why don't we put in a Sleep All Day pass?"

"Why, you didn't get enough sleep when you stayed at home for the summer?" inquired Harry, more curious than facetious.

Draco shook his head. "I told you before, you don't know everything about my life, Harry. My father, who ruled Malfoy Manor like a lord used to rule a castle, didn't believe in sleeping past eight o'clock, unless you were dying of some disease. And Uncle Sev's even worse, he thinks a normal hour to wake up is six-thirty. So between them I'm lucky if I can sleep in till eight-thirty."

"Poor deprived child," Severus said sarcastically.

"Yeah, that's me all right." Draco made a mournful face. "You know, sleep is important for your health, Uncle Sev. Which is why you should let me sleep for as long as I want."

"Nice try, Draco. But you'll get plenty of sleep if you go to bed at nine-thirty."

"See, I can't get away with anything with him," Draco remarked ruefully. "That's why he has me doing chores at nine, because he knows I hate getting up in the morning."

"Yeah, I did notice you were unusually snarly until noon," said Harry.

"I'm just not a morning person. I like to sleep. Did you know that dragons spend over fifty percent of their time sleeping on their treasure mounds?"

"Yes, and you were well-named," Snape commented. "However, that doesn't mean you're going to laze around my house all summer, my boy. You can sleep at night, or take a nap after you've finished your chores. And if you oversleep, you know what will happen."

"I know, sir." Draco mimed a shudder.

"What happens?" asked Harry.

"You get woken up by the Snape Special. That's when he dumps a bucket of ice cold water on you and bellows in your ear like a banshee. It would wake a dead man, trust me."

"Oh. Sounds like cruel and unusual punishment." Harry said mischievously.

His father snorted. "Cruel and unusual punishment is being stuck in a house with you two at each other's throat every minute. If we ever capture a Death Eater, I vote we put him in a room with you two and make him watch and listen to you fight. It shouldn't take him but three days to crack and start begging us to let him out."

"Oh, come on, Uncle Sev. We aren't that bad."

"I beg to differ. You two could give Jesus a nervous breakdown. The only reason I'm not insane by now is because I know how to brew Calming Drafts."

"He's exaggerating," Harry said slyly to Draco. "I say we could give Satan a run for his money."

"Of that I haven't the slightest doubt," Severus said dryly. "All right. Let me explain the rules of Dragons Wild to you, Harry, while Mr. Malfoy here makes out the notes for us. As I've said, it's very similar to five draw poker, with a few obvious difference, such as the pictures on the deck of cards. Instead of jokers, kings, queens, jacks, and aces, we have dragons, High Warlocks, Faerie Queens, Wizards, and Sorceresses. And instead of diamonds, heart, spades and clubs, we have cups, swords, wands, and cauldrons in either gold or green. I'll give you a sheet on the hands and what hand beats what for reference this time, but I'd suggest you memorize it so next time you play you won't need to look anything up and can concentrate on the other players and strategy."

While Severus instructed Harry, using a spare deck to illustrate the different hands, Draco scribbled several notes on spare bits of parchment, these would be what they used to bet and put into the pot to win. He made sure to include some of Severus's suggestions and of course he put in the Sleep Away A Day note and the Broom For An Afternoon request Harry had made, because he too loved flying and thought it was rotten of his godfather to forbid them that outlet for so long.

Before long, the three were playing intensely, and Draco was astonished to discover that Harry, the typical Gryffindor, could maintain a poker face with the best of them. He honestly couldn't tell whether or not Harry was bluffing, and so he had to call. Only to discover Harry had a Full House, which beat Draco's Four of a Kind and Severus's Three of A Kind.

"Ah, beginner's luck!" Draco groaned, shoving over the five notes to Harry. "Double or nothing, Snape?"

"Maybe." Harry replied, examining his notes. He had won No Arguing for a Day, Swap Chores with Draco, A Sickle Extra for Allowance, Potions Apprentice, and the best one, A Broom For An Afternoon. "Uh, when can we use these?"

"Two weeks," answered his father. "No getting out of your punishment until then, young man. Shall we play another hand? You have about forty-five minutes."

"You bet, Uncle Sev. And this time, Harry, I'm gonna thrash your Gryffindor butt."

"Promises, promises, little snake," Harry threw back, but there was no bite to his tone.

"That's what you two think," said Snape, smirking. "I say I'm going to wallop both of you good and teach you the meaning of respect." He shuffled the deck expertly, handed it to Harry to cut, then began to deal.

Twenty minutes later, Harry folded and left Severus and Draco to duke it out.

"Well, Dragon? Care to raise me a note?"

Draco considered. He couldn't tell by Snape's face or hands what the older man had. He could be bluffing, and Draco knew from experience that there was no better master at bluffing than Severus Snape. Ah, what the hell. Might as well go for broke. "I see your note and raise you two, Uncle Sev."

"Bold tonight, are we?" Severus put two notes into the pot. "But it's time to call your bluff. Show me what you've got, daredevil."

Draco spread his cards out on the table. "Full House, Uncle Sev. Read ‘em and weep." He reached out to rake the notes over to his side of the table.

"Not so fast, Godson," Severus put out a hand. "A Full House is a good hand, true. But nothing beats Dragons Wild." And with that Severus displayed the highest winning hand in the game- a five of a kind, with both dragons wild.

"Holy Merlin! I don't believe it!" Draco gaped at the other's hand. Then he shoved the pot of notes towards his godfather, reluctantly. "You sure you didn't charm the cards, Godfather?"

"No, Draco, I don't need to cheat to win." Severus reached out and swatted the sulking boy on the top of the head. "Quit sulking, you can't win every time you play."

"I haven't won yet this game," groused the Slytherin.

"Ah, but last time we played, you walked out with half of my stash of chocolate frogs and Ice Mice," Severus countered. "One more hand, but if you lose don't get your nose out of joint."

"I don't like to lose."

"No one does, but it happens to us all," answered the Potions Master, passing the deck to Draco to deal. "The important thing is how you handle it. People respect a graceful loser, Draco. Sulking and pouting is for three-year-olds. Remember, you almost always get a second chance, and tomorrow might be the day luck smiles on you. Deal the cards, Mr. Malfoy."

That time, all three of them remained in until the final hand, and this time Lady Luck blessed her wayward son and allowed Draco to win, and not only did he win, he won his coveted Sleep Away A Day note.

"Oh Merlin! Am I good, or what?" he crowed, hugging the precious note to him and grinning.

"You got lucky, punk," Harry drawled, then turned to Severus and said, "Now he's gonna be insufferable, Dad."

"Only if you let him, Harry." Snape advised. He allowed his godson to gloat a little more before puncturing his bubble with one swift command. "Time for bed, Draco. And you as well, Harry."

Both teenagers groaned, but they knew better than to argue, and tucked their notes in their pockets and bid Severus good night before trudging down the hall to their new room.

As they were getting into bed, Draco looked over at Harry and said, "I sure hope you don't snore, Snape."

"I wouldn't know, since I've never been awake to hear myself," returned Harry. "But so what, Malfoy? Just conjure yourself earplugs or weave a Silencing Veil around your bed."

"We're not allowed to weave Silencing Charms here, remember?" Severus had forbidden them to cast those particular spells, reasoning that any situation requiring a Silencing Veil was no good.

"Then you better pray you fall asleep before me or don't need earplugs." Harry told him, crawling into bed and removing his glasses. For once, he was actually tired enough to fall asleep right away.

In contrast, Draco was restless and couldn't seem to fall asleep quickly, finally drifting off into a light doze an hour later.

Soon after, Snape prowled into the boys' room to check upon them, found both his charges sleeping soundly, made sure they were tucked in snugly, and then departed. The evening had turned out better than he had expected, especially considering the day's disastrous climax. He hoped this solution would work, otherwise his only option was to separate the two for the remainder of the summer.

But he thought he had finally hit upon the right way to make the two stop fighting and start seeing that perhaps there were more similarities between them than differences. Hopefully, the enforced proximity would encourage them to talk more about their respective pasts, for he knew that both of them were curious about their rival's history, though neither of them would ever admit it. Both of them had been damaged and hurt by parents and guardians who should've protected and loved them, and both had been forced to grow up abnormally fast and fulfill impossible expectations-Harry as the savior of the wizarding world and Draco as the perfect Death Eater. And both of them were trying desperately to forge a new life and a new path other than that of savior and dark wizard.

Severus knew they would rely heavily on him to help them through the dark times that threatened, and help them he would, but he also knew they would need more than just himself, or the friends they had chosen. They need a brother, one who will stand by them come what may, and remain beside them until this whole bloody business is through. Should anything ever happen to me, I want them to have each other, the way I never did. I could've used a brother to confide in, to advise me, and to smack me upside the head and tell me I was being an utter jackass too. If I'd had one, maybe I'd never have believed Lucius's forked tongue and followed him down the dark road.

He hoped his instincts were correct, and he'd made the right decision to force them to share a room. So far so good, Sev. They haven't killed each other yet. Then again, this is only the first night. By the end of the week I may have to look for an undertaker, Merlin help me. Though I pray not. They seemed to be getting along better tonight. Perhaps it's an omen. The Potions Master snorted at his own foolishness, then continued on to his own room, setting his alarm for six o'clock as usual. Little did he know, he wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

* * * * * * *

* * * * * * *

Draco awoke to the most awful screaming and moaning he'd ever heard in his life. For one moment he thought the manor might be haunted by a poltergeist or a murdered ghost like Moaning Myrtle. But nothing he'd ever read in the history of the manor ever mentioned ghosts, even in all the centuries it had stood, back to the time of Merlin. The eerie groans continued, making the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stand up.

"Bloody hell, what is that?" he gasped, fishing about for his wand under his pillow. "Lumos!"

The room lit up and Draco sat up, glancing about warily. Severus had told him the manor was warded against evil, but what if something from the realm of the fae had managed to slip past?

But there was nothing in the room except himself . . .and Harry, who was thrashing around in his bed and making that God-awful moaning.

Draco stared at the other boy, at a loss how to react for a moment. He'd seen some of his Housemates have nightmares before, but they always woke up after a minute and were able to go to sleep again, or else they went to Severus for a potion. Harry had been moaning and yelling nonstop for about five minutes now, near as Draco could figure.

Oh, Merlin! He sounds like he's dying or something. Maybe I'd better try and wake him.

The fourteen-year-old slid reluctantly from his warm nest of blankets, shivering slightly as the slightly cold air hit the back of his neck and his bare feet. It had been warm when he had gone to bed, so he hadn't bothered putting anything warmer on than a pair of green shorts and a T-shirt that said Snakes Rule! He padded noiselessly over to Harry's bed, which was across the room from his own, and closed a hand over the other's shoulder, shaking him firmly.

"Hey! Snape! You're dreaming, now wake up!"

No response. If anything, Harry began to whimper and moan even more, thrashing his head from side to side.

"Harry? It's a dream. Harry, wake up!" he urged, shaking him harder.

Suddenly, Harry yelled, but Draco couldn't understand what he said, it was all gibberish and his eyes opened but he didn't seem to be seeing anything. He shivered too, tears trickling down his cheeks to stain the pillow under his head.

That terrified Draco even more than the yelling and gibberish. He'd never seen anyone dream with their eyes open before, nor cry in their sleep either. He quickly withdrew his hand and stood there, breathing hard.

The door was yanked open, and a sleepy Potions Master stood there, a black dressing gown flung on hastily over his nightclothes. "Draco? What's the problem?"

"It's Harry, Uncle Sev! He's . . .I don't know . . .having some kind of nightmare and he won't wake up. He's screaming and groaning and . . .and crying in his sleep . . ." Draco babbled.

Severus didn't bother to comment, simply walked into the room, followed by Draco. Draco went and huddled upon his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and watching to see if Severus could manage to snap Harry out of the nightmare he was trapped in.

Severus leaned over the bed, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and shaking him slightly. He was unsure if he should wake his son just yet, sometimes it was best to let the sleeper wake on his own, especially if the nightmare were particularly traumatic.

But he, like Draco, couldn't stand hearing those awful cries, and Severus quickly decided to disregard the advice of Muggle psychologists and sat down on the bed and said, in a firm but slightly stern tone, "Harry Albus Snape, wake up! This is a dream and you need to wake up now."

Still, the child would not wake, small mewling whimpers and what sounded like the words "help" and "no" were coming from his mouth now and Severus put a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook him a bit harder. "Come on, son . . .it's not real . . .Harry, Harry it's all right . . .come on, child, wake up . . .!"

Draco remained frozen on the bed across the room, wondering if some kind of curse could be affecting Harry for him to still be dreaming even after all of Severus's attempts to wake him. Maybe Uncle Sev ought to throw a bucket of cold water on him. Merlin knows, that always wakes ME up!

All of a sudden, Harry woke fully, and the first thing he saw was his father, sitting there in front of him, looking at him with love and concern on his usually stern features. "You're not dead!" he muttered, then threw his arms about the older wizard and clung to him, burying his face in Snape's robe.

For an instant, Severus was startled, Harry had never initiated physical contact with him before, in fact the boy was wary of being touched, a legacy of being slapped around by Vernon. Severus was like that as well, from his years of abuse by Tobias. It was ironic, really, for both of them craved physical contact, yet both of them had trouble initiating it.

But something in Harry had broken tonight, for he was clinging to Severus like a spider monkey and sobbing hard into the Potion Master's shoulder, deep wracking sobs that shook his slender frame like a willow in a windstorm. Severus wrapped his arms about his son and drew him onto his lap.

"Harry . . .shhh . . .you're all right, I'm here . . .I've got you . . ." He awkwardly patted the boy on the back, then when that didn't seem to have any effect, he began to rub small circles and run his fingers through Harry's silky ebony locks. "There's no need to be afraid, child . . .I'm here . . .right here . . .hush . . .hush . . ."

Harry continued to bawl, the tears pouring from him like a torrent, and Severus continued to hold and soothe him as best as he could, rocking him slightly in his arms and letting him know he was not alone. Severus began to suspect that such an outpouring of emotion was not due solely to the nightmare, awful as it may have been.

No, this was a result of suppressing all those tears and unhappiness for months, or more likely years, on end. Severus had done something similar and it had taken Lily's death to make him bring down those walls and allow himself to cry and grieve normally. But unlike Harry, he'd had no one to comfort him when he had wept, secluded as he had been at the manor.

He shifted Harry slightly, the boy was dead weight in his arms, though he was holding onto Severus in a death grip. The sobbing was slowing a bit, as Harry gradually registered the fact that Severus was still there, and was starting to get himself under control.

The two were so wrapped in each other that they had completely forgotten the third party in this little drama, who was still sitting on his bed, observing his godfather comforting Harry, who had quite simply fallen apart. Draco didn't feel the slightest bit tempted to make fun of the other boy for acting like a crybaby or thought he was a weakling for allowing himself to be held by Severus, who was murmuring something Draco couldn't catch. Instead Draco found pity and sympathy stirring in his heart for the forlorn boy, who had obviously been hurt terribly by something in the past.

Draco knew all about being hurt, it had been the very first lesson his father had ever taught him, that life is pain. Apparently, someone had taught Harry the same lesson too.

Severus sighed, then muttered a Featherlight Charm upon his son, for Harry was getting heavy and he was tired, it had been a long day. This way he could hold Harry easily, and the charm would wear off in an hour anyway. Then he lifted Harry onto a hip, and turned to see if Draco was still awake.

He was unsurprised to find the other boy wide awake, staring at him with concern. "Draco, go to sleep," Severus ordered quietly. "I'm taking Harry with me for the night, so you needn't worry about him waking you up any more tonight."

"Is he gonna be all right, Uncle Sev?" Draco asked, yawning.

"He should be." Then Snape fixed Draco's pillow and told the Slytherin to lie back and close his eyes and practice his favorite pastime.

Draco obeyed, and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

One down, Snape. Now let's see if I can't get my other son to sleep as well.

He walked from the room with the distressed Gryffindor clinging like a limpet, occasional sobs still shaking his small frame. Upon reaching his room, he attempted to get Harry to let go, but the boy stubbornly refused to relinquish his hold. Sighing, Snape settled down in the recliner in the corner of his room and rocked the boy, humming softly.

At last Harry calmed enough to release his chokehold upon Snape's neck, and Severus was able to move him to the bed and place him on it. He noted that although Harry had stopped sobbing, he still had a glazed expression on his face, as if he was still partially within the realm of dreams.

"You need a good dose of Dreamless Sleep, my boy, but unfortunately I'm all out. I was going to brew a batch today, until your foolish squabbling interrupted me and then I thought I'd do it tomorrow, but that won't help you tonight, now will it?"

Harry whimpered and clutched at Severus's hand, as if fearing the master wizard would disappear or abandon him.

"All right, child. I suppose I'll have to try and get you to sleep without it, difficult as that may be." He summoned a vial of Calming Draft to him and coaxed Harry into swallowing half of it before his son began to cough violently and ended up throwing up half the mixture.

Luckily, Severus was prepared and had a basin ready, so he didn't get splattered like last time.

"Oh, Harry. Your anxiety is making you nauseated again," Severus sighed, wiping his son's face and holding him over the basin until the spasm had passed.

"There now. Easy, sit up." Severus eased him to a sitting position, then gave him two spoonfuls of Anti-Nausea potion.

Harry relaxed afterwards, and Severus vanished the basin and came to lie beside his son, drawing the boy down to lie with his head on Snape's shoulder. All this time, Harry had not spoken, though Severus was certain he was aware that Snape was there. The shock and embarrassment was probably keeping him mute, thought the Potions Master.

But that was all right, as he'd told Harry that other night, he didn't need words to make a point.

"You need sleep, son, and so do I. Now let's try closing your eyes and imagining a quiet meadow. In the meadow are beautiful lilies and buttercups. There are bees and butterflies fluttering about the flowers and the sun is shining. Can you feel the sun, Harry? Yes? Good. The sun will chase away the shadows. A doe and her fawn have come to the meadow as well. They nibble the tender shoots and drink from the crystal brook," Severus continued describing the imaginary meadow, which was something he'd learned as a meditation aid.

By the time Severus had started describing the spots on the fawn, Harry had fallen asleep, emotionally spent.

"Thank Merlin and all the saints!" breathed the weary Potions Master.

Then he turned his head away slightly and tumbled into the gray realm of sleep, his son's hushed breathing like the sweetest lullaby in his ear.

Despite his interrupted sleep the previous night, Severus still managed to awake at his usual time of six o'clock in the morning. He was accustomed to rising even earlier than that for classes at school, but he allowed himself an extra hour of sleep during the summer, lately his body was reminding him that it really needed that extra hour. He was relieved to find Harry still sleeping peacefully, and went to take a shower and dress, pondering if he should insist the boy share his nightmare with him, the way he'd done last time.

He had a feeling that this nightmare had been a bit different from the others, since before the dreams had spawned anxiety attacks, while this one had caused Harry to react more with grief than with utter terror, despite the bout of nausea at the end. Severus wished he knew more about adolescent psychic trauma, but his field was Potions, not Child Psychology, though he resolved to check in the library and see if any of the manor's previous owners had purchased any books on the subject. He suspected there might be some, for the manor's heirs were well read and more than one had come to live here after living in Muggle society.

Still, Severus knew that some of the best therapy was to simply speak about what you feared or what was bothering you, the very act of doing so released a great deal of suppressed tension, and that release was something Harry badly needed, not just in the aftermath of a nightmare, either, but as a conscious choice. He would try and encourage his son to share his feelings and hopefully Harry would agree, but otherwise Severus would not push him just yet. He wanted Harry to come to him, not for him to force his son into revealing things that were both private and painful, invading the boy's mind with Legilimancy or Veritaserum.

Severus was himself a deeply private person and revealed his past and his heart to very few, but of those few, one of them had been Lily and the other had been Harry. Draco knew some of his past, but he had not dared reveal much, for fear it would somehow get back to Lucius. Not that Draco would have willingly betrayed him, but Lucius had no qualms about using harsh methods on his offspring to get information, and Severus had dared not risk it. Now, however, was a different story.

When he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a casual gray top, black trousers and soft black loafers, he found Harry still slumbering, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, and he left him there and went to wake Draco to help him make breakfast.

Draco, who as Severus knew very well, was the king of complainers and sleep-loving teenagers, did not take to being woken up at seven o'clock well at all. He turned his face away when Severus shook him and called him, burying his head under the pillow.

"Mmm . . .ten more minutes . . .I'm too tired to get up now, Uncle Sev. Have mercy."

"Draco, get up now. You have a whole day's worth of chores to complete and the sooner you wake up the sooner you can finish them and have a lie-down afterwards."

The sulky boy muttered something about evil Potions Masters and sadistic godfathers into the pillow and refused to move until Severus yanked the covers off him ruthlessly and said silkily, "I'm going to give you to a count of ten to get up on your own, before I conjure up a Snape Special just for you, my rebellious godson."

Draco groaned. "Aww, come on, Uncle Sev! It's no fair! I barely got any sleep last night thanks to Harry and now you want me up at the crack of dawn. What is this, the bleeding army?" He threw a hand over his face and tried to snatch the covers back over his head, but Severus was having none of that, and began counting loudly.

Draco heard the warning in Snape's tone, and he sighed and forced his eyes open. Hurry, before he conjures that damn bucket of water, he urged himself and sluggishly sat up and glared at his foster father. "You are evil."

"And you are whining," Severus countered. "Come along, Dragon. It's your turn to help me make breakfast today."

"How come?" Draco grumbled, rising to his feet. "Harry knows how to cook better than I can."

"Which is why you are going to help me this morning, so you can learn how to cook something besides tea and toast. It isn't all that hard, you're smart enough to pick up the basics in no time, if you apply yourself."

Draco scowled when Severus's back was turned. "Yeah, and what if I don't want to apply myself?" he mumbled under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Snape spun around and fixed the blond wizard with a sharp glower.

"Nothing . . .sir," Draco replied sulkily. "Where's Harry?"

"Asleep." Severus answered shortly and headed into the kitchen.

Lucius's son dragged his feet, but he followed, thinking resentfully how unfair it was for him to be dragged out of bed at this unGodly hour of the morning when it was Harry's fault he hadn't gotten enough sleep last night, and made to help with breakfast. His godfather was a mean old serpent and it was clear he favored his blood offspring over his ward, otherwise Harry would be awake too, nightmare or no nightmare. Bleeding little coddled baby! Guess that old saying really IS true-blood is thicker than water.

Severus supervised while Draco mixed up pancake batter and fried some ham steaks and scrambled up some eggs. The cooking wasn't hard, it was the timing that was a pain, but Severus made sure he watched the clock closely, so his godson wouldn't burn everything to a crisp.

By the time the pancakes and ham were done, Harry had awakened and come into the kitchen. He had never felt less like getting out of bed or sitting down to breakfast, but he forced himself to do so, otherwise he knew his father would come and get him, and Harry didn't want Severus to think he was any more of a little baby than he already did, after last night.

He suppressed a wince as he recalled sobbing hysterically and clinging to his father, just as if he had been a little six-year-old. He felt his cheekbones flush a brilliant scarlet and shame and embarrassment swept through him in waves. God, he'd gone to pieces in front of Severus and Draco, of all people. They must think he was the biggest crybaby to ever walk the earth, nothing but an overdramatic whimpering little girl. He lowered his head to stare at the wood grain in the table, not looking up even when Draco floated the plates onto the table and Severus set a glass of pomegranate juice in front of him, and a plate with some toast, eggs, ham, and a single pancake as well.

"Harry, I think it would be good if you ate a little," said his father quietly.

"Yes, sir," responded his son in a low monotone, his eyes glued to the table.

There followed an awkward silence, with none of them knowing just what to say and so they said nothing, concentrating on eating.

Draco was unsure how to feel towards Harry after the events of last night. A part of him felt sorry for the other boy, but another part, the selfish part, resented Harry for getting all of Severus's attention, which previously had been reserved for him alone. The pampered only child of rich parents, Draco was unaccustomed to sharing the attention of his friends and family, and the sting of envy was prodding him sharply, overriding the compassion and empathy he'd felt for Harry last night.

He stabbed his fork into his pancake, imagining it were Harry's privileged arse, and ate, and even in his grumpy state he had to admit that the pancake was quite good. Perhaps Severus was right, and he could learn to cook.

Harry picked at his food, unable to look at either Draco or Severus, embarrassment making his breakfast taste like sawdust. He carefully sipped his juice, nibbling half-heartedly at his toast and ham, praying his stomach would allow the little he'd eaten to remain where it was. Luckily, his anxiety was not as acute as it had been last night, and he managed to get through breakfast without puking.

Severus noted his son wasn't eating, but decided not to press the issue, Harry was undernourished, true, but one peckish meal wasn't going to kill him. Perhaps the boy's appetite would return later on in the afternoon, after a spate of chores. He had to start brewing the Dreamless Sleep potion, it would take almost the whole day to make an entire batch, and it was not the sort of elixir that shortcuts could be taken with. For an instant, he considered asking Harry to accompany him, that way he might coax the boy to open up about his nightmare, but then he rejected that idea. Dreamless Sleep was a master level elixir, and while Severus had made it countless times before, he couldn't afford to let himself be distracted while brewing it, and listening to his son would most definitely be distracting and he feared he wouldn't be able to concentrate and ruin the whole batch.

That would be one mistake he couldn't afford, Harry needed that potion badly, and Severus was the only one who could brew it. He didn't think they could endure another night like the last one. Finishing the last of his ham, the professor cleared his throat and announced, "I'll be going into my lab to brew a batch of Dreamless Sleep and need no interruptions for two hours, after that you may come and speak with me, if you have any questions regarding your chores for today. I've posted a revised list upon the wall, but this morning I want you to forgo working outside and remain in the mansion, cleaning the kitchen and the back parlor. And when I say clean, boys, I mean from top to bottom, no shoving things under the sofa or sweeping dirt under the rug."

Harry just nodded, not up to giving Severus an argument about cleaning a room none of them had ever used and probably never would. The back parlor was the sort of room a woman used to entertain her friends with tea and crumpets and a hand of canasta. It had flowery wallpaper and a rose print Oriental-style rug, and Victorian couches and tables. It was the sort of room that Harry was sure Aunt Petunia would love. It was also incredibly dusty and dirty, since it hadn't been cleaned in years.

Naturally, Draco protested. "Uncle Sev, why should we clean a room we never use? Who cares if it's dirty, nobody ever goes in it. That's just like giving us busy work."

Severus favored his godson with a slight smirk. "That's the idea, Draco. To keep you two so busy you stay out of trouble for a good long time. The kitchen and the parlor should keep you busy until the first two hours of brewing are up, if not more. Now, no more arguments, just do as your told."

That said, he rose to his feet and Apparated to his lab, where he could begin to brew the precious elixir.

Draco heaved a martyred sigh and grumbled, "Clean the kitchen, clean the parlor, clean the whole freaking manor while you're at it. Merlin's balls, Uncle Sev, I never knew that when I came to live with you, I'd become Dobby."

He pointed his wand, and the dishes levitated themselves into the sink.

"I'll wash, you put away," he instructed his uncommunicative cousin, who merely shook his head in silent agreement.

Draco began washing, and since there wasn't much to wash, was soon finished, and then the two moved on to the sweeping the floor and running a wet mop over it. That had been done just yesterday, so the floor was not truly dirty, and in fifteen minutes the kitchen was its usual pristine self, according to Snape's exacting standards.

All this time, Harry had not spoken one word to Draco, but he cleaned as directed, preferring to let the Slytherin call the shots for now. He followed the other down the east wing to the back parlor, which smelled musty and stale from disuse.

"Ugh! Trust Uncle Sev to give us one of the dirtiest rooms in the bloody place to clean." Draco looked about the room in dismay. A foot or two of dust lay thickly over everything and the air was thick with it. "How the hell does he expect us to clean this room in two hours? It's bloody impossible."

"He never said we had to have it done in two hours," Harry spoke up at last. "He just said he'd be done with the first part of the Dreamless Sleep

by then."

"How mighty nice of him," the Slytherin sneered. "Because it's going to take us all day to get this blasted room the way Mr. Perfectionist Severus Snape wants it."

Harry shrugged. Personally, he found this task no worse or better than what he had to do at the Dursleys, save for the fact that he never need fear Severus taking a belt to him for not completing a task. He rolled up his sleeves and picked up a duster and some furniture polish that Draco had summoned from the supply closet.

Draco found Harry's silence and apparent compliance very annoying. He liked it better when Harry was arguing with him, at least then it was interesting, not dull as a tomb. "Guess this sort of thing must be old hat to you, right, Snape? Those Muggle relatives didn't have servants, did they?"

Harry scrubbed the dirt off a small endtable. "No."

"That's right. They didn't much need one with you there, did they? Having you clean was probably cheaper and more efficient, you worked for free and were available any time. Like Dobby."

Recalling the poor mistreated house elf roused Harry from his apathy somewhat. "Yeah, like Dobby, who you beat and tortured for years, Draco. Proud of yourself, are you?"

"Hey, I never asked to have a house elf bound to me, that's how it's done in pureblood families. And for your information, Mr. High-and-Mighty, I never touched Dobby."

"You didn't need to, you conditioned him to punish himself when he disobeyed or spoke against you."

"That's the way the bond works, I had nothing to do with it." Draco pointed out. "A house elf is bound to never harm or speak ill of his family. It's been that way since. . .I dunno . . .centuries or something. It's a safeguard, since house elves have some powerful natural magic."

"If you treated them decently, instead of like slaves, maybe you wouldn't need the bond." Harry declared.

"Humph! You don't understand the way they think. A house elf wants to be bound to a family. If they aren't, they're miserable. They like serving us, ask any of them."

"I don't believe it. No one likes being a slave."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Guess you'd know, wouldn't you?"

Harry felt his face heat up at the other's sneering tone. Yet another thing he had to live down. "What of it? Just because you were born to a rich bastard doesn't make you better than me."

"Doesn't it?" Draco taunted. "At least I know which end of a fork is which and not to chew with my mouth open."

Harry clamped his mouth shut and turned away, counting slowly to twenty. Ignore him, Harry. Just ignore him. He's trying to bait you, don't let him. He returned to dusting, carefully running the cloth and polish over the rosewood table and chairs.

"What's the matter, Snape? Cat got your tongue?" pressed Draco, waving the feather duster about vigorously, making the dust rise into the air and drift back down in a thousand little motes.

Harry continued cleaning, totally ignoring Draco.

"Ah, the silent treatment. Funny, you weren't so quiet last night . . . woke me right up with your screaming and moaning. They could probably hear you in Devon, I'll bet. What the hell were you dreaming about, anyhow? Getting disowned by Uncle Sev? No? Wait, I know! It was . . .getting a bad press review in the Prophet. Because your golden image would suffer oh so much if people knew the truth . . .that their hero was just a mere fourteen-year-old who-"

Harry never heard the rest of what Draco had been about to say, because he stormed out of the room, throwing down the dust cloth and polish in a rare fit of temper. He could not stand being in the same room any more with that insufferable brat, and he knew if he didn't leave, he was going to end up slamming Draco a good one. So in the interests of preserving harmony and his backside from his dad's firm hand, Harry left, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud.

Five seconds later the door opened and Draco stuck his head out, bellowing, "Hey, where the hell are you going, Harry? Come back here and help me, you stupid prat! I'm not cleaning this whole damn room myself!"

Harry continued walking, his jaw clenched and his back stiff with indignation. He pretended not to hear Draco's shouts and went into his new room and flung himself down on his bed, angry and unhappy, shame curdling his stomach as he thought of the nightmare he'd had, some ridiculous dream about Vernon becoming a dementor along with Dudley and trying to suck out his soul. Goddamn nightmares! He thought furiously. And Goddamn Draco too, for acting like a supercilious snot when he knew nothing at all about what it was like to live the first thirteen years of your life as a virtual slave to people who despised you. Or at least, Uncle Vernon had despised him, Harry amended. Petunia had only been playing a part, mostly. And Dudley was a fat copycat, doing whatever his git of a father had.

Thinking of Dudley made him recall the nightmare, and he shivered recalling his cousin's accusing voice. "It's all your fault my father's dead! YOU killed him!"

Only he hadn't. Spite and malice had killed Vernon, Harry had been innocent. He shut Dudley's voice from him and turned over on his bed, burying his face in the pillow and wishing he could go to sleep and never wake up, lose himself in dreams, where his mother was alive and they were a real family. For that, Harry admitted to himself, was what he had always wanted, and it was the one thing he feared he would never have, especially now. For what man would want to claim him as his son, a whimpering scaredycat baby who let nightmares master him? Pretty soon he was sure Severus would get sick of him and send him away, and then Draco would be his son, his perfect Slytherin son, Harry thought bitterly, slamming his fist down on the pillow.

* * * * * *

Draco fumed and moped, waiting for Harry to return after he'd gotten over his snit. But when twenty-five minutes had passed and still there was no sign of the dark-haired wizard, Draco threw down his duster and swore colorfully. How dare Harry go off and leave him with all the work? Who did he think he was, the lord of the manor?

Just then the door to the parlor opened and Draco leaped to his feet, ready to lay into Harry for running out on him. But instead Severus entered, and frowned in disapproval when he saw the little Draco had accomplished. "This is all you've gotten done? What have you been doing, dusting an inch every ten minutes?"

Draco felt a hot flush cover the back of his neck at Snape's sarcastic tone. "It wasn't my fault! I've been cleaning in here for twenty-five minutes by myself because Harry left."

"Left?"

"Yeah, he decided he wasn't going to clean any more and he left." Draco said, not mentioning that his smart mouth might have had something to do with it.

Severus's mouth tightened. "I'll go speak with him. Where is he?"

"Uh . . .in our room, I guess," answered Draco.

Severus strode out of the door, black robes rustling angrily, calling over his shoulder, "Don't dawdle, Mr. Malfoy, keep working!"

Draco groaned and picked up his abandoned duster. Evil old dungeon crawler!

Severus found Harry lying on his bed, still wrestling with his shame and anguish. At first, the Potions Master was prepared to lecture the boy severely for skipping out on his chores, but one look at Harry's woebegone emerald eyes convinced him to rein in his temper. Clearly whatever demons Harry had fought last night were still with him.

So Severus merely asked, "Harry, why are you in here and not doing your chores like I asked?"

Harry jerked up at the sound of his father's voice, he hadn't even heard Severus come in, the man moved like a phantom. "Do I have to answer that?"

"You do unless you want me to assume you're shirking your work deliberately, in which case I'll have no choice but to punish you further for your disobedience." Severus informed him.

His words struck a chord of anger inside the teen and Harry sat up and cried, "Yes, that's right, punish me and not him! After all, he's the one you want, the Slytherin prince, you chose him as your ward. Why don't you go and ask him why I'm here, Dad?"

"I did. He told me you left and refused to work with him."

"Damn straight I did. I had to, otherwise I would've shoved his perfect teeth down his throat." Harry said defensively.

"Why?"

Harry turned his head away. "What difference does it make?"

"Harry, I can't help you unless you talk to me. I understand that you're upset and embarrassed over last night, perhaps you would like to tell me about that, since I think it might have something to do with your current situation with Draco?" Severus urged. Come on, son, talk to me, dammit! Let me help you.

For long moments, Harry was silent.

Severus sat down and waited patiently.

At last, he said, softly and without looking at his father, "Promise you won't laugh at me? Or think I'm some stupid little crybaby?"

"I promise. What's happening to you is no laughing matter, Harry. These nightmares and anxiety attacks you're having are indications of some deep wound inside of you, son, and you need to talk about them before you become depressed or worse. If you don't feel comfortable talking with me, perhaps I can arrange something with a therapist."

"No! I don't need a shrink, Dad. I'm not crazy. I'm just . . ." he swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden tears that threatened. At last he managed to say, "I'm just afraid that . . .I'm going to be alone . . .without a family. See, that was what I dreamed last night . . .the dementors surrounded me and then they took off their hoods and . . .I saw their faces . . ."

"What did they look like?"

"One was . . .was Voldemort. I saw him kill Mum. The other was Uncle Vernon . . .and Dudley . . .and James . . .he said I'd betrayed him, and Dudley said I'd killed his father, and Uncle Vernon said I would die alone and he tried to Kiss me. . . I called for help, but you weren't there, and I was alone . . .alone in the dark." He trailed off into a hoarse whisper, shutting his eyes.

"Harry, what do you mean James said you betrayed him? Did you mean perhaps that Lily betrayed him?"

"No. He said I betrayed him. Because I chose you over him."

"Ah. Do you feel that me being your father is a betrayal of James's affection for you?"

Harry shook his head rapidly. "No! I . . .I don't even remember him. I want you as my father. . .that's the problem. I want you to be there for me and I'm afraid . . .afraid . . ."

"Afraid of what? That I will leave you?"

"That and . . . that you don't want me."

"Why would you think that? You're my son, of course I want you."

"Even though I'm a screwed up mess? And now you have Draco?" Harry asked plaintively.

"Harry, you have some issues to resolve, but you certainly are not . . . a screwed up mess, as you put it. I will never abandon you, never leave you alone, I will do my best to be there for you always. As for Draco, he is my foster son, and there is nothing wrong with a man having two sons, because I love you both the same."

"Will you swear it?"

"I give you my wizard's oath, Harry Albus Snape, that I love you and Draco equally." Severus answered immediately.

Harry gazed into his father's dark eyes and saw that it was true. He had not lost his father's love at all. It had always been there. He turned away to hide the tears of relief gathering in his eyes.

An instant later, he felt a lean hand clasp his shoulder gently. "All right, son?"

He nodded, sniffling sharply.

Severus cautiously put an arm about him and Harry leaned into his shoulder, hot tears falling on the black clad shoulder for a few brief minutes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to act like a crybaby."

"You've no need to apologize, Harry. There is no shame in tears. Your mother taught me that," murmured the professor in his son's ear. He stroked Harry's hair until he felt his son relax. They remained like that for several moments, and then his son drew away. Severus returned to the previous issue he'd come to discuss in the first place. "Now then, what happened this afternoon with Draco?"

Harry flushed, then said gamely, "He started making remarks about stuff and I got mad. I tried to ignore him like you said, but I just couldn't after awhile, so I left. I figured it was better to leave then knock his teeth in and end up getting my bum tanned by you."

"I see. You did the right thing, and acted maturely." Severus praised. "However, you are still under punishment and must finish your chores. I will speak with Draco while you return to the parlor and finish cleaning."

"Okay, Dad." Harry agreed.

Harry returned to the parlor with Severus, which was not even halfway done, though Draco had made some headway at least. The other looked up from where he was scrubbing out the fireplace and fought back a triumphant grin when he saw Harry walk in with Severus behind him. He wondered if Severus had read Harry the riot act about skiving off like that.

But his smile died when Severus gave him an angry glower and said, "Draco, a word with you. Right now."

"What for?"

"You know very well what for, young man. Come."

Draco followed Severus out of the dusty parlor, brushing the dust off himself as he did so. Severus waited until they had reached the boys' room before he began scolding him for taunting Harry.

Draco flushed, knowing he deserved the lecture, but still angry and resentful. "You always take his side, Uncle Sev!" he accused. "Is it because he's your real son and I'm not? Blood's thicker than water, huh? Guess I shouldn't be surprised. You always favor your own."

"Draco, I do not favor Harry."

"You do too. He got to sleep in while you dragged me out of bed early in the morning. He goes skiving off and leaves me with all the work and you let him go and yell at me. How is that fair?"

"Draco, you and I both know that you started today's quarrel, so don't try and act like you're innocent. What you said to Harry was provocative and inappropriate. Are you trying to get in more trouble, Mr. Malfoy? I would've thought after yesterday, you would be walking on eggshells, and instead I find you running your mouth off at Harry."

"Yesterday, he started with me and you didn't lecture him like this," Draco pointed out. "How come?"

"I did worse, I took away his broom."

"So? You took away mine too and you don't seem to mind half as much, because you feel sorrier for him."

"Draco, don't be ridiculous. I don't like having to punish either of you, but my punishment was deserved and there's an end to it. You brought it upon yourselves and now you pay the consequences." Severus sighed, recognizing the same vulnerability and resentment in Draco as he did in Harry. "I will tell you now what I told Harry. There is no need for you to feel that I will suddenly stop loving you, simply because I now have another son. Other parents have more than one child and they love each one equally."

"That's what they all say, but nobody ever means it. You always love your children by blood better than the ones by adoption or marriage. My dad told me that."

Severus sighed. "Draco, your father is a pureblooded, racist, nasty SOB and he doesn't know anything about raising children. I'd hardly use him as an example. You yourself know that he cares for only one person, and that person is himself. A selfish cold heart doesn't know how to share anything, whether it's love or money."

"I know, but . . .he's part of you and. . ."

"Draco, you've known me since you could talk. Nothing and no one could ever replace you, dragonet. Harry may be my son by blood, but you are my son by choice and I love you just as much."

Draco gazed at him uncertainly, until Severus walked over and pulled him into a brief hug. Draco relaxed against him, breathing in the familiar scents of herbs and spices that was the Potion Master's unique scent. He should have known better than to believe Lucius, he knew how the man lied and twisted things to suit his own ends, and he hadn't liked the idea that Draco was beginning to prefer his godfather over himself.

"I always wanted you for my father," he muttered into Severus's robes.

"I know. And now you have me, so you should be satisfied, not resentful and jealous." Severus patted Draco much as he had Harry.

After a long moment, Draco pulled away, and Severus said, with a touch of sternness, "However, that's no excuse for your behavior, and now you've earned yourself more chores and an afternoon pickling rat spleens and toad ovaries."

"Yuck! Uncle Sev, that's mean!"

"So was what you said to Harry. Next time think before you open your mouth and you'll save yourself a great deal of pain and regret. Now, you owe Harry another apology, and you can help him finish up the parlor as well."

"Yes, Uncle Sev."

Two minutes later, Draco was back alongside Harry, dusting, polishing, sweeping. He had apologized for his comments and Harry had also apologized for leaving for so long. Severus watched them cautiously for a moment more, then departed to finish stirring the new batch of Dreamless Sleep, which had about another hour left to steep. He hoped that his little talks with both boys had finally ended the cycle of resentment and fear and anger over him and had helped Harry come to terms with his fear of losing his family.

But if not, he would simply repeat the lesson, until his sons finally learned that he meant what he said, for a Snape always kept his word.

"You need to chop the acacia roots smaller than that, Harry," Draco instructed, peering over the other's shoulder. It had been three days since the nightmare incident, and now they were in Severus's potions lab, chopping acacia roots and grinding various other herbs for several different drafts and elixirs.

"Why? I think they're small enough." Harry frowned down at the pile of purple and white roots.

"Honestly, Snape, how'd you ever graduate first year without knowing how to chop up roots?" the Slytherin rolled his eyes.

"I had Hermione help me," Harry admitted with a sly smile.

"Oh? And you have the nerve to accuse me of cheating?" Draco said, waving a finger scoldingly. "Naughty boy, having your obsessed schoolwork friend do all your potions labs. What would your father say?"

"I don't know. And I don't want to find out either, so shut up about it, okay, Draco? He's already on my arse as it is, if he learns that Hermione helped me pass most of my labs, he'll probably change all my grades to zeroes and make me repeat the year."

"Yup. That sounds like Uncle Sev, all right," agreed Malfoy, chuckling. Then he took the knife from Harry and began to chop the roots finer. "There! See? That's what you want them to look like. Got it?"

"Yes, Professor Malfoy," Harry whined. "Sorry I didn't grow up with a Potions Master as my godfather so I know all this stuff."

"Oh, don't use that old excuse. You can learn now, Hopeless, you're not brain dead. Least I don't think you are."

"Very funny. Then again, who would know better, considering the fact that you hang around the gorilla and his uncle."

"Crabbe and Goyle aren't really that dumb," allowed Draco. "They're just . . .um . . ."

"Mentally challenged?" Harry supplied. "Automatons? Apes trapped in a human body? Pigs on two legs? Think maybe they got hit in the head with a shovel at birth?"

"Stop! Please!" Draco was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his stool. "No more, Snape!" When he could stop laughing, he sat up and wiped his eyes. "You know, you have a real sarcastic mouth on you, Harry. Almost as sharp-tongued as a Slytherin."

"Wonder where I get that from, huh?" Harry asked, straight-faced. He took the knife back from Draco and resumed chopping the roots finer. "Seriously, though, why do you hang around them? For kicks? So they make anything you say sound bloody brilliant? Because I'm guessing it's not for their stimulating conversation."

"No. Although they're not that bad once you get to know them. Gregory actually can hold a conversation about something other than food every once in awhile. Crabbe, though, is ruled by his gullet, and he talks nonstop of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And I told you before, I didn't choose to hang around them, my father made me."

"How come?"

"Because he was friends with their fathers. You know what Death Eaters are?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not really. What is it, some kind of secret society?"

"Mmm, guess you could say that. The Death Eaters are a large group of wizards, mostly purebloods, who are dedicated to He-Who-Must-Not- Be-Named's cause. They follow him and his teachings, and all of them are mean as vipers. My father is one of their leading members. Crabbe and Goyle Senior are longtime members too, and Father decided I needed someone else to play with that had . . .the right connections."

Harry made a sympathetic face. "I almost feel sorry for you. I don't understand something, Draco. What's the big deal if you're a purebood over a Muggleborn? Or a half-blood, like my dad?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Everything, if you're a Death Eater's son, like me. It's all about money and connections and power. The pureblood families were once the elite of the wizarding world, like the nobility, if you will. We could trace our ancestry back centuries, to Merlin, and some of us beyond that, if we wanted, though Merlin's generally considered far enough. Being a pureblood means that you have the utmost respect for magic and blood ties, and you will do almost anything to preserve that purity. We follow the old traditions, like bonding house elves, and we only marry others with pureblood status. And we have an obligation to, uh, produce heirs, and raise them as befits our heritage and our Name."

Harry looked at Draco askance. "But that sounds so . . .so medieval. Do they do arranged marriages and all that?"

"Oh, yes. Matter of fact, I'm already precontracted to marry Pansy Parkinson," Draco said with a grimace. "I can't stand the silly goose, but what I want doesn't matter. Purebloods marry for alliance, like medieval nobility used to, and Father needed Nathan Parkinson's mercantile connections. So he drew up a contract when I was born promising me to Pansy and that was that. For them, anyway."

"Do you have to marry her?" Harry asked, horrified.

"Probably not now, that Father's in Azkaban and I'm considered tainted by virtue of adoption by a half-blood who hates the Dark Lord. I don't think old man Parkinson would give me water if I was on fire now, much less his daughter, thank Merlin!" Draco smirked. "That's one great thing about being Severus's ward, no more having to pucker up to the Bulldog Queen. I used to have to kiss her and dance with her at the holiday parties my parents threw, and it was so revolting!"

Harry gagged. "That's . . .ugh. . . that's gross. I almost feel sorry for you, Malfoy."

"What d'you mean, almost? I had her hanging around me for the entire night, drooling all over me. Oh, Draco, you're so handsome! Oh, Draco, can you get me another glass of punch. Draco, darling, let's dance the mambo, shall we? And I had to be polite and escort her about and I hated it! She was so boring and she looked at me with this glazed expression, like she was a puppy and I had a dog biscuit."

Harry couldn't help it. He giggled uncontrollably.

Draco huffed. "Sure, you can laugh about it, Snape. And you thought it was all wonderful coming from a family like mine, huh? I've had to endure Pansy since I was five, and she hasn't changed much, believe me! Once, when we were seven, I tried to get her to leave me alone, told her she was a dumb girl or something, and I made her cry. She tattled, of course, and Father made me apologize to her on my knees . . .after he whipped me for disgracing the Malfoy name by being rude in public. And I'm not talking about three whacks with a spoon, either. I mean a whipping with a cane, till I was so sore I could hardly walk. Still think I lived a life of luxury, Snape?"

Harry shook his head, dumbfounded. That was the last thing he had expected Draco to say. "I never . . .was that what you meant, when you said Dad's punishment for using kin-sa-dor on me wasn't as bad?"

"Yes." Draco said tightly. "Compared to Father . . .Uncle Sev's punishment was . . .it hurt, but it wasn't brutal. And that wasn't the only time Father caned me. He . . .he had very strict ideas about how a son of his should behave and if I didn't follow his rules . . ."

Harry winced. "That's just . . .wrong. No parent should treat a kid like that. Then it's not punishment. It's abuse."

"Tell that to my father," said Malfoy bitterly.

"What about your mother? Did she agree with him?"

"Mother was as much a stickler for appearances as Father. She was a Black and she had as much pride as a Malfoy. She allowed Father to dictate to her about most things, one of those was discipline. I was a son, so he disciplined me, for the most part. If I'd been a girl, she would have. Which isn't to say that she didn't punish me if I happened to get out of line with her. But she wasn't so physical, she tended to ground me or take things away that I liked. Once or twice, she'd smack the backs of my legs with a switch, but nothing like Father."

Draco's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. He returned to chopping up another pile of roots with a vengeance and didn't speak for a few more minutes. Harry remained silent as well, unsure whether to reveal his own past with the Dursleys or not. It would seem he had misjudged the scion of Malfoy Manor.

After a few more minutes, Draco spoke up again. "What, you're not fainting dead away on the floor? Bet you thought I never got slapped in my life, didn't you? You thought I lived like some prince in a fairy tale, right?"

"Kind of. You did have money and you always acted like you were better than everyone." Harry said defensively.

"I was brought up to believe that. It was one of the first lessons Father ever taught me. That purebloods were better than anyone, especially Muggles and Mudbloods. And as a pureblood I was expected to behave with decorum and restraint and the proper degree of respect towards adults. Unless they were Mudbloods or Muggles, of course. Then it was all right to tell them off. Like I did with Granger that time."

Harry scowled. "That was cruel of you."

"She was annoying me. But I suppose it was. And I was lucky Uncle Sev didn't hear me say that. Otherwise he'd of washed out my mouth morning, noon, and night and made me write lines. That's what he did the first time I ever used that word in front of him, when I was staying at his house. I think I was all of eight and he'd been trying to get me to talk to an acquaintance of his with a half-blood child and I said I didn't associate with Mudbloods and those sorts of people. I tasted soap for two days once he got through with me, and I never used that word around him again."

"Looks like you were a cheeky brat, Malfoy," Harry teased gently.

"Oh, and you weren't? Yeah, right. I might've had everything I wanted, but it cost me. Father was on my back night and day, making sure I knew what bearing the Malfoy name entailed." Draco's expression grew dark. "In return for the Malfoy estate and fortune and prestige, I was to be his right hand, and stand in the circle of Death Eaters proudly. Together, we would bring back the rule and worship of the Dark Lord, father and son. That was my inheritance, Snape. To kneel at the feet of old Snake-Face and kiss his arse."

"But you defied him."

"Not openly. I'd have been dead if I had done that. Uncle Sev helped me, he was the one who convinced me that I wasn't bound to be the dark son, that I didn't have to walk the lefthand path into night. He told me to pretend, to dissemble, and then to follow my conscience. He taught me that prejudice was nothing but fear of one group by another because they were different. When Father taught me curses and hexes that killed, that were designed to torture and maim, Sev taught me counters and spells to heal. When Father made me disembowel a dog alive as my initiation into the outer circle of Death Eaters, Severus took me home afterwards and held me while I sicked up all over and told me I wasn't evil, even though what I'd done made me ill. He said I wasn't responsible for the sins of my father. He saved me, and I can never repay him. I'm my father's son and I bear his name and his blood, but where it matters, in here," he tapped his chest. "I'm nobody's son but Severus Snape's."

He said that last with a proud lift to his head, like an eagle preening, Harry thought.

"Guess you aren't such a spoiled rich little prig after all, Draco."

"Took you this long to figure it out?" the blond sniffed. "Merlin, but you're slow, Snape. Must be a Gryffindor trait."

Harry flicked him on the arm with a finger. "But you're still a snob. I was almost a Slytherin, you know. The Hat nearly put me into your House."

Draco's eyebrows rose into his hair. "Do tell. Then what the hell are you doing in the House of the Lions?"

"I . . .uh, persuaded it to put me in Gryffindor."

"Why? Thought you were too good for the likes of us?" bristled Draco.

"No, it's because Slytherin has a reputation for being a Dark House. Voldemort came from there and I . . .I didn't want to be associated with him."

"Oh, pu-lease!" snarled an irate Draco. "Like the other three Houses didn't have their share of pureblood bigots who followed Voldemort too? We're blacklisted for having one member who was pure evil, but everyone overlooks the fact that Slytherin House alumni also hold various positions of authority in the community. There are Slytherin Healers, lawyers, judges, there was even a Slytherin Minister of Magic ten years back and Slytherin Headmasters of Hogwarts. Uncle Sev is one of old Voldy's bitterest enemies and he's Head of Slytherin House. People always are so quick to point the finger at us and sneer, saying that ambition and pride lead to evil, but they're wrong. Without ambition, what have you got? Nothing! You're a fat lump. Without pride, you're a doormat, and people walk all over you. I'd rather die than live like that. And we've got courage too, only it's not the obvious kind, like you Gryffindors. Ours is quiet, we keep to the shadows, but when you call us, we're there. And a promise made is a promise kept. Always."

"And what promises have you made, Draco?" Harry asked quietly.

"Only one. To never be like my father," answered the young wizard. "And that's one promise I mean to keep till I die, Harry. I'm not a traitor, I turned my back on the dark path, or else I'd never be here now. The manor protects its own, you know."

"I know," Harry said, and gave the other boy a tentative smile. "I'm glad you're on our side, Malfoy."

"Don't mention it."

"But you're still a major pain in the arse," Harry added, smirking.

"And you're still an insanely brave idiot, who needs somebody to watch your back constantly so you don't end up dead," returned the other.

"Oh really? And you think you're that somebody, Draco?"

"Hell, no. That's Uncle Sev's job, poor him. I'm the one who gets to stand on your other side and tell you what an idiot you are while fighting off the dark wizard trying to stomp your arse."

"What makes you think I need you to help me, Draco?"

"Because you're hopeless, Harry. And you need me, Merlin help you, Snape! You need me badly." The Slytherin said loftily, then swatted Harry on the back of the head.

"For what?"

"To keep your hero complex from killing you."

"I don't have a hero complex."

"No? What do you call facing a basilisk by yourself with an old sword then? Looks pretty heroic to me."

"It was the Sword of Godric Gryffindor and I had no choice!"

"Excuses, excuses! What about you, Weasley, and Granger going after the Sorcerer's Stone by yourselves? Three heroes and the last stand. You're lucky you didn't all die."

"Oh and like you'd of done any better?"

"I would've. I would have made sure I had back up, in case something went wrong. See, that's the difference between you and me, Harry. I don't rush in and pray for divine intervention. I make contingency plans, so if something goes wrong, I'm not screwed."

"You're bloody brilliant, Malfoy. What d'you want, a medal or a monument?"

"Both, since you asked."

"Arrogant prat."

"Heroic imbecile."

"Takes one to know one, Draco."

"Shut up, Harry!"

Harry laughed. Then he went back to grinding up parsley and something called senna. Some of the senna powder got on his hands and Draco saw.

"Careful, Snape. Don't get that in your mouth."

"Why? Is it poisonous?"

"No," sniggered the Slytherin. "Senna's a laxative, eat or drink too much of it and you'll be in the loo for hours."

"Oh. What kind of potion needs that?"

"Probably a Constipation Reliever, or an Irritable Bowel Soother, is my guess. Uncle Sev makes all kinds of healing potions, because you never know when you might need one."

Harry doubted he'd be needing that any time soon, but he carefully put the ground senna and parsley into small jars and labeled them. Funny, but he had actually had an interesting and somewhat amusing conversation with Draco. It was the first time he could remember getting along with the other apprentice, and he found that when Malfoy wasn't being an obnoxious brat, he rather liked him.

On my God! I can't believe I just thought that! Me, liking Draco! Help! I think I'm having an out of body experience. Who am I and what's happened to the real Harry? He darted a glance at Draco, wondering if the Slytherin wizard felt the same about him.

Draco was busy grinding marjoram and bicorn horn in a mortar, and so missed Harry's sidelong thoughtful glance. Though he wouldn't have been quite as astonished as Harry might have thought, since his opinion of the Potion Master's son was also altering. Slowly but surely, the rivals were becoming closer, and beginning to see similarities as well as differences in each other.

By the time the boys had finished all the grinding and pressing of the herbs Severus had listed, their hands and backs were sore and they were starving.

"Race you to the kitchen, Harry," challenged Draco. "Last one there gets to make the winner lunch."

"You're on," Harry said. He waved his wand and the lab was spotless, as per Snape's instructions. Then he and Draco went and crouched down in the corridor, like runners on blocks for a sprint.

"Ready. Set. GO!" Harry called, then took off at a dead sprint.

He might be small, but one thing he could do was run, since he'd been persecuted by Dudley and his gang since he was six, he got lots of practice. He blew down the corridor like a streak of blue fire.

Draco wasn't as quick at the start, but he had longer legs and he was determined to win, he soon caught up to Harry and matched him.

The two tore down the hall like twin dervishes, running hard. They were almost at the kitchen entrance when Severus suddenly appeared in front of them, he'd been heading to the kitchen for a snack after reading all afternoon in the library about childhood trauma and treatments, trying to find a way to rid Harry of his nightmares.

Neither Harry or Draco saw the professor until it was too late.

The two barreled into the tall wizard like express trains, knocking the startled Snape backwards onto the floor. They then tumbled headlong after him and all of them landed in an awkward muddle on the ground.

"Uh oh," Harry hissed, trying to untangle his foot from Draco's robes and not step on his father's hand. "Uh . . .sorry, Dad."

Severus turned his head and fixed his son with a glare that could have cut glass. "Harry Albus Snape, would you mind telling me just what the bloody hell you're doing running down the corridor like maniacs?"

"Umm . . .we were having a race," replied Draco, gingerly rubbing his knee, he'd bashed it into the floor when he had fallen. "Sorry, Uncle Sev. We, ah, didn't see you there."

"Obviously," Severus said, and the single word fairly dripped sarcasm. Concealing a wince, the Potions Master sat up gingerly and shifted Draco off his legs and Harry from his lap, though not before applying a swat to the Gryffindor's rear end, which was too tempting a target to resist.

"Hey!" Harry yelped. "It was an accident, Dad."

"Don't be such a baby. That didn't hurt." Draco snorted.

"How would you know?" muttered Harry irritably, rising cautiously to his feet. "I don't see your backside getting smacked." He shot a sulky look at his father, who was climbing to his feet. "How come you're not giving Draco a smack too? He fell on you and it was his idea besides."

"Oh?" Severus eyed the guilty party and Draco quickly backed away, covering his bottom. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to run in the house, Draco?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. But we were having a contest and uh, the loser got to make the other one lunch." Draco said sheepishly.

"Really? Then, since you both lost, I think it only fair you make me lunch," Severus said silkily.

Both boys looked at one another ruefully. "Okay, Uncle Sev."

"Sure, Dad. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm not damaged permanently." He rubbed the small of his back, grimacing. "Well, what are you waiting for, Easter?"

Harry quickly turned to go into the kitchen, and Draco followed.

The blond wizard gave a startled cry as Snape's hand swatted his bottom as he went past. "What's the deal, Uncle Sev?"

"Now you're even," replied the professor, smirking.

Draco shot him a petulant glare before continuing on into the kitchen to make his godfather something to eat as he had ordered, making sure Harry wasn't looking before surreptitiously rubbing his backside.

Harry quickly put together a sandwich of ham, Swiss, lettuce and tomato with mayo, and Draco supplied crisps and a glass of lemonade, which Severus had made from the fresh lemons that grew in the orchard.

The boys levitated the food and drink to the table, where the professor was now seated, and then started making their own sandwiches as well. Soon all three were eating companionably, until Draco began to snicker uncontrollably.

Harry and Severus stared at him.

"What's so funny?" asked Harry.

"It's just . . .all three of us when we fell on top of each other . . .we must have looked like . . .a bunch of idiots . . .!" Draco managed to say before dissolving into helpless laughter.

"Too bad we didn't have a camera," Harry remarked insolently, then he too started to laugh.

Soon the two of them were holding their sides and howling.

Severus just looked at both of them, trying to maintain his facade of stern patriarch, but his lips twitched involuntarily into a smile. "Insolent little brats," he muttered. Well, at least they're getting along better now and not trying to pound the daylights out of each other, so that's one good thing, Sev, he reminded himself. It did his heart good to hear the boys laughing, since neither of them found much to laugh at previously, even if it was at the expense of his dignity and a rather sore backside. He chuckled softly, reluctantly, then resumed eating his sandwich, reflecting that laughter was better than shouting, and perhaps there was hope for his little family yet.

"You know what the worst thing is about doing laundry by hand?" groaned Draco as he turned the crank on the ringer washer. "This stupid handle leaves blisters on your hand." He shook his hand vigorously, glaring at the washer, which had one of Draco's shirts half-rinsed and wrung out in its mechanism.

"Do what I do," Harry advised, hauling the finished clothes and sheets into the laundry basket to take outside to hang on the clothesline. "Wrap a cloth around the handle, or use a Cushioning Charm on it."

"Uncle Sev says we're not allowed to use magic at all for our chores," groused the Slytherin.

"Then use a cloth," Harry repeated, grunting a bit as he picked up the loaded basket. If this doesn't put more muscle on my frame, nothing will. It's like toting around boulders.

Draco pulled a rag from a pile of them in the laundry room and wrapped one about the worn wooden handle several times. "There. At least now I'll be able to use a fork at dinner without it hurting like blazes. I swear, this is torture, who does laundry by hand like this anymore?"

"Us." Harry replied.

Draco began to turn the crank again, muttering angry sentiments against the inventor of the washer and Severus for making them wash clothes this way. " . . .bloody damn machine . . .if it gets stuck on me one more time . . .appropriate punishment, my arse . . .ought to be reported to the WCSF Services for conduct unbecoming a guardian . . ."

Harry paid his complaining foster brother half an ear, he'd learned after the first week of their punishment that Draco liked to bitch and moan to let off steam. Severus said Draco had Complainer-itis, and to just ignore him. "Harry, that boy would complain to the Almighty on Judgement Day that it wasn't fair and He needed to give him another chance. Just tune him out, it's less aggravating that way."

"Let me know when you're done with that batch, Draco, I'll be outside hanging these on the line," called Harry over his shoulder, lugging the soaking wet clothes outside through the small entrance that led into the backyard, where Harry had strung a length of clothesline inbetween two convenient oak trees. He'd used magic to adhere the line to the trees, so it would never fall down, but he used ordinary old-fashioned clothespins to hang up the wash.

Strange, but doing this domestic chore, even though it was a punishment, didn't faze him at all. He'd done laundry every week when he lived with the Dursleys, though they'd had an electric washer and dryer, but he had hated it, because Petunia was so particular about her shirts and skirts and dresses, they all had to be pressed and hung a certain way, and Vernon had been the same with his shirts and trousers. Harry had gotten beaten more than once as an eight-year-old for forgetting to press Vernon's collars and not putting enough starch on his work shirts. The only one who had not cared about the state of his clothes had been Dudley, but that was because he was forever outgrowing them.

And me, though I tried my best to keep the rags they gave me to wear clean, even if I had to wash my stuff late at night, when they were all sleeping. Harry remembered sneaking down into the dingy basement to wash his pitiful castoff T-shirts, jeans, and underclothes, though the latter were at least new, because Petunia flatly refused to recycle underwear and socks. I remember when a good day was when Aunt Petunia went to the store and came back with a new package of shorts for me. Or socks. It was great to not have to wear socks that were mostly holes and actually fit me.

Now, of course, clothes were not even a question, Severus bought him whatever he needed, they had gone shopping in the village called Moorshead, which was the nearest human habitation to the manor, and Severus had purchased an entire wardrobe for him, Muggle style, of course. And the master wizard had promised him new school outfits and robes and everything when it was time to return to Hogwarts as well.

Harry estimated they still had another six weeks or so of summer, by the manor time, which Severus had told him ran slower than real time. How that was possible Harry couldn't figure out, but supposed it wasn't really important, he was not all that eager to return to school, the way he usually was. This year would be different, he was different, both physically and mentally, and he was now Snape's son and not just his student. He suspected his new status would be a great shock to everyone, and he wondered how the rest of the staff and Gryffindor House would take it.

They can take it how they like, so long as they don't start crap with me, he thought as he began hanging trousers upon the line. He'd gotten quite good at using clothespins since he'd been punished like this before, it wasn't as easy as it looked to hang clothes on a line. You couldn't just hang the clothes up willy-nilly, otherwise the first good wind that came along would blow them right off and you'd end up with dirty laundry again. Though the weather about the manor was usually fair, they did get the occasional thunderstorm or spate of rain or a windy day, so Harry made sure the wash was clipped properly.

As much of a pain in the arse as it was doing laundry this way, Harry had to admit it was good exercise and the clothes smelled fresh and clean after drying in the sun all day. Magic would get the clothes clean, but somehow there was no substitute for sun-warmed linens and such. And Merlin help me if Draco ever heard what I was just thinking, he'd tell me I needed to be committed. Either that or become a maid. Little does he know, that's exactly what I was for the first twelve years of my life, since I can't count the time I spent with Mum and James and Dad rescued me just after my fourteenth birthday.

And being out in the fresh air was doing wonders for his temper, he really hated being stuck inside all day for days on end. It made him stir crazy, and when he got like that he needed to do something, otherwise he became irritable and snarly. He was betting that his father knew that, which was why he assigned Harry some major chores outside every few days, since Harry had experience with gardening and enjoyed planting and harvesting flowers and herbs. The first time Draco had been told to weed the herb garden, he'd ending up pulling out all of Severus's rosemary and basil and mint. How on earth one mistook mint, of all plants, for a weed, was beyond Harry's comprehension. Then again, this was Draco, who had never done anything in a garden except admire flowers or maybe kiss Pansy Parkinson.

Harry hid a smirk at that last thought. Good thing Draco can't read my mind, I'd be dead meat for that last comment. And Merlin, was he steamed when Dad made him go back and replant all those herbs he'd picked and then re-weed the garden. Still, Dad was right in making him do that, because that's the only way you learn to do it right. Draco had been too angry to see that, however, and had shot his mouth off at his foster father once too often, earning him an additional punishment with a bar of soap for swearing. Harry continued hanging the laundry, using four clothespins for the sheets and two for most other things, thanking Merlin that no women lived here, so he didn't have to be embarrassed into the next century by a girl seeing his underwear flapping in the breeze. The basket was almost empty now, and Harry wondered if Draco had finished the last batch of shirts and robes yet.

He glanced back just in time to see Draco emerge from the small entrance, carrying a basket on his shoulder. The blond wizard strode over to the clothesline and set the basket down with a thump. "Uncle Sev ought to be nominated for the Slavedriver of the Year Award. This bloody sucks! My back is killing me and so are my hands."

Harry examined Draco's hands, which were kind of red and blistered, he wasn't accustomed to doing a lot of manual labor. "You should ask Dad for some murtlap salve and then wear gloves next time you're operating the washer."

"I wouldn't need to do that if Uncle Sev weren't such a bloody strict pain in the arse!" Draco glared down at his hands, his gray eyes flashing.

Harry just shook his head. "You know, he's really not as bad as you're making him out to be."

His foster brother stared at him, astonished. "What? How can you say that? He's turned us into a pair of house elves! How can you think that's not so bad!"

Harry dropped the clothespin he'd been holding into his now empty basket and said, with a touch of irritation, "Because I've been treated like a real house elf, Draco, and this is nothing-absolutely nothing-compared to what I used to do at the Dursleys."

"What do you mean? You were enslaved by your Muggle relatives?"

Harry grimaced. "Well, yes, in a manner of speaking." He settled himself cross-legged on the grass. "See, my uncle never wanted to raise me, he hated all things to do with magic, and my aunt had to persuade him to take me in, even though he was paid off by Dumbledore for my keep. But he made it clear from day one that I was the poor relation, here on sufferance and if I wanted to keep living there I had to . . .earn my keep," related the dark-haired wizard angrily. "Here's what that meant, according to dear old Uncle Vernon. It meant that I wasn't allowed to have a real room, for years, till I was twelve, I lived in a cupboard under the stairs. It was about the size of the utility closet that we keep the buckets and mops and cleaning stuff in. In it was everything I owned, which wasn't much, just a baby blanket and a few books and some of Dudley's old toys, the ones he didn't like or had broken. I wasn't allowed to have anything new, I wore Dudley's old clothes and shoes, even my glasses were used. Sound familiar?" Harry asked, referring to the fact that house elves were not allowed to wear clothes when they were in service to a family.

"Then, soon as I could see over the top of the counter and wouldn't get burned or blow up the house, Aunt Petunia taught me to cook breakfast for the family. I think I was five. And when I say breakfast, Draco, I'm not talking about a couple of eggs, toast, and some bacon. I mean two pounds of bacon, a dozen eggs, a half a loaf of bread and a carton of orange juice."

Draco blinked. "Sweet Merlin, Snape, who were you feeding, Hagrid and his relatives?"

"Might as well have, for that's what my uncle and cousin ate, my aunt rarely ate much except toast and yogurt for breakfast. And me, I got nothing, unless my aunt slipped me a piece of leftover toast or I scrounged scraps later while I was cleaning. Only I did that once too often and Dudley told and my uncle whipped my bum good, so I had to be careful. I wasn't allowed to sit with them either, they made me stand in the corner, so I could serve them. Just like you wizards do with your house elves."

"And you had to do chores, right?"

Harry laughed, low and bitter. "Yeah, I had chores, all right. I did everything for them. I was dishwasher, laundrymaid, housekeeper, and gardener. Every day, seven days a week, without pay, I cooked and cleaned and weeded. From the time I was five until my father came to Privet Drive. If I was lucky, I got fed once a day. Sometimes, if Dudley lied and got me in trouble or my uncle was in a bad mood, I got nothing and was locked in my cupboard for days. That happened quite a bit. And if I didn't finish all my chores, I had a list as long as your arm, or I didn't do them right, Uncle Vernon was waiting with his belt to wallop my arse good. Like your father with his cane, he was."

Draco winced. "Hell, that must've really hurt."

"It did. He used to give it to me bare too, so it hurt even more," said Harry softly, and he flinched.

"Merlin, Snape! And that's why you're so small, isn't it? Why Uncle Sev made you drink a Nutrient Potion, because they starved you?"

Harry nodded tightly. "But that wasn't the worst. All of that was bad, but the worst thing was . . .they treated Dudley like a prince. He got everything and all he had to do was ask. He was a spoiled rotten brat, but they loved him and they gave him everything. But never me. Dudley whined, he got a new TV. I asked for a six pence toy, I got smacked and told I was naughty. When I was little . . .I didn't understand, I thought they were like that because I was bad . . .that I deserved to not get presents on my birthday or anything but a switch for Christmas."

"You've got to be kidding, Harry! My father, nasty as he was, used to threaten me with that, but he never actually got one and gave it to me. Nobody's cruel enough to do that to a kid on Christmas!"

"Uncle Vernon was." Harry whispered, looking at his clenched fists. "I still remember it. I was six, and Christmas came and Dudley got fifty-five presents and what did Harry get? A switch, and when I went to see a toy train of Dudley's, Dudley had a fit and said I was going to wreck it, threw it and broke it, and blamed me for it. Then Uncle Vernon used my "present" on me. Nice Christmas, huh? The kind that every kid dreams of, right?"

Draco looked angry and then he said, "And you wonder why I think Muggles are trash, when they treated you like that?"

"My uncle was trash, there's no denying that. I hope he's roasting in hell now that he's dead. But not all Muggles are like him, Draco. You shouldn't judge them all by his example, that's not right. There are good as well as bad ones, though Vernon was one of the worst. D'you see now why I don't think these chores my dad gives us are bad? At least I'm fed and not beaten afterwards. At least here I'm treated like a family member, not a house elf or a stupid servant. Compared to Privet Drive, this is paradise."

They fell silent for a few moments, until Draco asked, "Does Uncle Sev know what they did to you?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. And he paid them back for it, believe me." He went on to describe Severus's retribution on the Dursleys.

Draco was grinning like a jack-o-lantern when Harry told him that Severus had smacked Vernon with a wooden spoon for lazing about and later with a belt for trying to snitch his wand and break it. "Good for him! I'd of loved to see that!"

"He got the worst of it, but Dudley was made to do chores too and Dad made him toe the line with his mum. She was afraid of my uncle, he used to hit her too, and Dad made her a charm so he couldn't hurt her anymore. Once he did that, Aunt Petunia was able to stand up for herself and she started disciplining my spoiled brat cousin like she'd wanted to all those years. Big D was like, shocked speechless, cause he'd never been told no in his life and Petunia not only told him no, she punished him when he acted up with her."

"How?"

"She used Dad's methods mostly, including the wooden spoon." Harry answered. Then he rose to his feet. "C'mon, Malfoy. Let's finish this, then we can go eat. I'm starving."

"Can't have that, Harry," said Draco softly. "Not here. And . . .it's paradise for me too," he added after a moment's hesitation.

They hung the rest of the clothes in silence, broken only by the sounds of bees humming and birds singing. When all the laundry was put up, the two boys stood back and stretched and sighed in relief.

"Oh, am I glad that's over!" groaned Draco. "I swear, Harry, if I ever manage to get Malfoy Manor back, I'll never bond a house elf to it again. I'll . . .I'll have one but free it and pay it, I guess."

"I'm glad to hear that, Draco," said a voice from behind them. "It shows that you're finally realizing the value of hard work and appreciating all of the things your house elf used to do for you."

Both boys turned to see Severus standing behind them, a pleased gleam in his coal black eyes. "Which was what I had hoped you would learn from this punishment."

"Huh? I thought you wanted us to learn how to get along, Uncle Sev."

"That too, Dragon. But I also wanted to teach you some practical skills and instill in you responsibility as well. It would seem you two have learned your lessons well, boys."

"We sure have, sir." Harry said. Then he gave his father a hopeful look. "Does that mean we're off our punishment chores?"

"Turning Slytherin on me, Harry?" queried Severus, looking slightly amused. "No, young man, you still have chores, though after three days, I'll allow you to use those notes you won at Dragons Wild to reduce your sentence a bit. Don't look at me like that, Draco. A few chores never killed anyone."

"A few chores! A few chores!" sputtered his ward, outraged. "We've been up since nine doing the dusting and the blasted laundry. Uncle Sev, I damn near ruined my hands doing the laundry." He held out his hands to Snape.

Severus took first one and then the other and examined them closely. "You'll live, Mr, Malfoy. I'll put some salve on them and wrap them in gauze, they'll be healed by tomorrow. A bit of hard work builds character, child." He chuckled at Draco's indignant expression.

"What if I don't want to build my character?" grumbled his son sulkily.

"You don't have a choice." Severus said bluntly. "Not in this. You learned all the wrong things with Lucius, Draco, and now I have to break you of them and start all over. One of the biggest mistakes was teaching you that you're above normal work and respect for those who work beneath you. I trust after this summer, you will have developed respect for those who do this sort of thing on a daily basis."

"What does it matter, if I respect Muggles and house elves?"

"It matters, young man. You don't want to end up like Lucius, do you?"

"No, sir."

"Then you'll learn this lesson, Draco. You ought to know by now that I do nothing without a purpose. You may not understand why and I may not explain it, but there is always a reason for my orders." Then he reached out and tousled both of his sons' heads. "You've done well, boys. Now come inside and wash up, I have lunch on the table. Oh, and you might want to take a look at your chore list for today, I've amended it."

"Not more work, Dad!" cried Harry.

"Aw, please, Uncle Sev!"

"Stop your whining," the Potions Master ordered gruffly. "Inside with you now." He shooed them into the manor.

They went, wondering what in Merlin's name their slavedriving father had added to their already large workload. Severus pointed to the sink and they both scrubbed their hands, and then he summoned his salve and fixed up Draco's sore palms.

Then they sat down to eat the large ham, cheese, and salami subs Severus had made, along with a side of pasta salad and pickles. They had large glasses of lemonade to drink and peach melba cake for a sweet. Severus had learned how to make that from Eileen.

All of them ate hungrily, and thanked Severus when they were finished. Harry volunteered to do the dishes, since Draco's hands were bandaged.

Afterwards, they made their way over to the wall where Snape had posted the daily chore schedule for them with an erasable ink quill. Harry's chores were in red and Draco's in green ink. Harry quickly scanned the list and next to his name and Draco's after the word lunch was written in bold black letters TAKE A 2 HOUR NAP.

Both of them gaped like witless idiots at the chart and each other.

"Are we dreaming?" asked Draco softly.

"If we are, it's the best dream I've had in ages." Harry grinned.

Severus cleared his throat and they turned to look at him.

"So? Still think I'm a slavedriver?"

"No, sir!" they chorused, flushing. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. This is your reward for doing your chores without complaining, mostly." Then he waved them away. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go and take a nap. Unless you want me to change it back?"

Draco and Harry shook their heads and practically bolted for their bedroom. Behind them, the Potions Master laughed softly, a wicked smirk on his face. He loved being unpredictable, like a true Head of Slytherin House.

Harry removed his shoes just before stepping into the mat covered room that Severus had converted into a practice ring for kin-sa-dor. He left his socks on, however, but they never practiced with shoes, because it was too easy for someone to get permanently injured while sparring with shoes on. Sometimes the socks made it slippery on the mats, but Severus told them it was just something they would have to learn to compensate for, part of kin-sa-dor was learning to deal with less than ideal conditions in environment, such as slippery footing and loud noise and such. Once he had made them practice while simulating a noise of sirens or pots banging, saying that they had to learn to tune out such distractions when they sparred and just concentrate on their techniques and opponent.

For the first two weeks, Severus had forbade them to practice against each other, instead they sparred with him alone or together or with an animated practice dummy called Voldy. Harry had named it that, saying it was easier to spar with a named opponent. Voldy was designed to respond like a skilled wizard opponent, and could simulate spells and martial arts, and it had been spelled to be nearly indestructible. Most curses bounced off it and it would take a very strong curse to ever destroy Voldy utterly. It had several levels it could operate on, but the one Severus had set it at most of the time was Novice, for the boys were not skilled enough to handle Voldy at anything greater just yet. He could fight Voldy at the Master setting, and had demonstrated that to the boys in the beginning of their sessions together. They had been suitably impressed. Severus had learned the art of crafting practice dummies from his fae teacher, a woman called Sarai, who had also taught him kin-sa-dor.

Harry didn't mind sparring against Voldy, but he preferred a live opponent, such as Severus. Draco had told him he did as well, he'd been Severus's student for four years and sometimes felt like he'd outgrown the practice dummy, though Snape insisted he wasn't even close to moving Voldy up to Intermediate level yet for his godson.

Kin-sa-dor was more than just learning physical combat moves, though that was a great deal of it. Kin-sa-dor was as much a mental discipline as a physical one, it involved being able to out-think and anticipate your enemy, and use stealth and cleverness to defeat him. "You must learn to practice the art of being a shadow, only then will you master the tenets of kin-sa-dor," Severus had told Harry in their very first session together, before Draco had come to Prince Manor. "A practitioner of the art knows how to see round the edges of things and notice what others overlook. Then he waits his chance to strike and uses what knowledge he has gained to overcome his opponent. You don't have to be super strong or tall or quick in order to practice kin-sa-dor effectively. You have to cultivate a certain amount of patience and accuracy above all. Know your enemy, know how he thinks, how he moves, how he reacts, and then you will have the keys to defeating him."

Meditation was a key element in kin-sa-dor, it helped clear the mind and focus, and it was something Severus always insisted they do before actually sparring. Following meditation they did some basic stretches, limbering up their muscles before they set to work.

Harry was dressed in his most comfortable pair of pants and a lightweight T-shirt, for you needed to move quickly when you practiced kin-sa-dor. He was the first to arrive at the room for their session that afternoon, and while he waited for Severus and Draco, who were brewing a potion together, and had not quite finished, he concentrated on his meditative breathing and focusing his mind into an alert state.

Severus explained that the fae had intended kin-sa-dor to be a subtle discipline, much like the fae themselves, who could hide in plain sight from humans, even wizards, using the tightest glamours and veils. The fae were masters at the art of vanishing and hiding, it was how they had preserved themselves in a world where humans were rapidly taking over the planet by population and habitation. Kin-sa-dor reflected that, one reason that it was strictly forbidden to teach it to any save those who bore fae blood in their veins. It was a safeguard against humans learning their vulnerabilities and then using them against them. The fae had been persecuted mercilessly back in time of Merlin, and as a precaution, vowed that no human would ever learn their secrets, which included kin-sa-dor, unless that human were blood-related to a High Court fae.

Harry enjoyed the kin-sa-dor sessions immensely, it allowed him an outlet for his pent up energy since he wasn't permitted to fly his Firebolt. For some odd reason, he hadn't yet used the pass he'd won in Dragons Wild to get his broom back for an afternoon, and the martial arts classes taught him valuable lessons in self-control over mind and body as well as self-defense.

Harry had been a victim too many times of Dudley and his gang of bullies to stand for it any longer, and kin-sa-dor would enable him to defend himself without seriously harming his opponent if he chose. He knew he would need to be alert and ready for anything next year.

So he began doing the warm-up stretches Severus had shown him as well as a portion of the meditation techniques Severus insisted he learn, while waiting for the two other wizards to arrive.

He had just managed to find his center when the door opened and in came Draco and Severus. "Well, you're here early, Harry," remarked Draco, removing his shoes and beginning the usual warm-up exercises on the mats. He had done them so many times before that he hardly needed to think about them anymore, he could almost do them automatically. He too was dressed in casual attire, soft cotton pants and a loose fitting short-sleeved shirt.

"Meditating, son?" Severus cocked an eyebrow at his offspring, then when Harry nodded, moved to the center of the room and began his own set of stretches, which were a bit more strenuous and complicated than the boys' set. Severus was dressed all in black, wearing garb that looked similar to a karate gi, but was made of very soft cotton.

While Draco and Harry still sometimes looked awkward when stretching or meditating, Severus was so skilled after some fifteen years of practice that he made it look as easy as pie. He glided through the routine, limbering up his muscles with the ease of years upon years of practice, his natural stealth, grace, and quickness making him the ideal candidate both to study and train with.

Harry continued to meditate, aware of his surroundings, while Draco and Severus completed their warm-ups and then sat cross-legged on the mats to meditate as well. After fifteen minutes both were centered and focused, and then Severus stood up and tapped both boys lightly on the shoulder, that was the signal that the session was about to begin.

Upon standing, both students sketched a bow to their instructor, for respect for a master instructor was an important tenet of kin-sa-dor. Severus had told them that long ago, a master could have killed a student for not showing proper respect. Though of course, the boys need never fear that happening, both were careful to show their father the respect that was his due as an instructor and a parent.

Severus bowed back, and said, "Are you ready to learn more of the art of becoming a shadow?"

"Yes, Amarsi Snape," they chorused, using the fae word for master or teacher.

"Good. Let us begin with the level one exercises." He drew a hand back then brought it forward in a subtle movement, like a swimmer stroking overhand. The movement, which looked no more dangerous than a wave, was actually designed to stab an opponent in the chest. It was followed by a second motion of the opposite arm, intended to block an enemy's strike, done with the palm out and arm stiff.

All of the level one exercises were hand and arm motions, dealing with blocking and the occasional strike, but mostly concerned with defense, for if you didn't learn how to defend first, your enemy would kill you quickly. When Harry had first begun learning the forms, he had asked Severus why all they did was practice blocking, and the older man had replied, "Because if you don't learn how to block and all you know is to attack, your enemy could kill you before you struck the first blow. So, we practice blocking first, Mr. Snape."

The two boys mirrored their teacher's movements, practicing the combination at least fifteen times before switching to a new one. The mirror technique allowed them to learn by example, before using the moves in a spar. When they had gone through the level two exercises, which was as far as Harry had progressed in the month and a half he'd been training, Severus told him to go and spar with Voldy for a bit.

He brought the practice dummy "alive" with a gesture and the word, "Ennervate!", it was already set at the beginner level, so it would not tax Harry too badly, and then returned to mirroring the more advanced moves with Draco, who could go all the way up to level six. There were nine levels of kin-sa-dor, nine being a master, and one that even Severus had not quite achieved yet, though he was very close.

Harry concentrated on attacking the dummy, it was faceless, and he often imagined the face it wore of Uncle Vernon or the real Voldemort. He stepped forward, bringing his left arm up in what seemed like a standard block, but at the last second twisted his wrist and stabbed all four stiffened fingers into the dummy's shoulder.

It was a direct hit to the nerve bundles in the arm, and Voldy's left arm now hung limply, paralyzed by Harry's Shadow Strike. The dummy nodded in approval before spinning away and then lunging at Harry with a kick to his midsection.

Harry blocked it, just barely, Voldy followed up with a sweeping kick to the Gryffindor's knees.

He saw it coming, and tried to jump backwards, but his timing was off and the edge of the dummy's padded foot caught him right alongside the left knee.

He stumbled, and Voldy pressed his advantage mercilessly, springing at him with hiss, and casting a Leglock Jinx at him. The spells were simulated, not real, but they still gave the impression of affecting you if they hit you for a minute or so.

Thus Harry felt the sudden tingle in his leg as the jinx struck and then numbness, whereupon he lost his balance and fell to the mat with a thump. "Damn it!" he swore softly as the dummy came and cuffed him smartly about the head, signaling a ‘kill'.

Harry got to his feet, frowning and they began to spar again.

Severus, who had been watching out of the corner of his eye, called, "Focus, Harry. You should have anticipate that jinx."

"Yes, sir. I'll do better," his son promised, now circling the dummy, waiting for it to make the first move.

Though Voldy was designed to never truly injure its sparring partner, it could and did leave bruises if you gave it the opportunity, and those bruises remained until they went away naturally, for Snape refused to heal them they way he usually would. "They serve as a reminder to be more careful in the future," he'd told Harry once, when his son complained of being stiff and sore the next morning. He did, however, recommend Harry take a long soak with some special mineral salts and once, after a particularly grueling session, when his son had sparred against him, he'd given the boy a low level bruise balm, so Harry could sit and sleep comfortably.

Meanwhile, Severus and Draco sparred, since Draco was good enough to hold his own in a spar against his teacher for at least twenty minutes. They focused mainly on kin-sa-dor, though occasionally, Severus would throw in a Stinging Hex or a Tickling Curse or a Stunning Hex.

Draco was quicker to block the curses than he was Severus's lightning quick jabs and kicks, however. That was due mostly because Lucius had made Draco practice dueling with him since he was ten and if Draco failed to block properly, he would make the boy suffer not only the effects of the spell upon him, but also his cane. Thus, the young wizard learned very quickly how to block curses, pain being a top motivator.

Here, at least, he didn't have to worry about that, for though Severus was a strict and demanding teacher, he wasn't unfair or overly harsh, and he was careful to pull his blows when he sparred with both his sons. Even pulled, though, if they landed, they still hurt.

Draco winced as Severus's palm smacked into his thigh, he'd been concentrating so hard on avoiding the professor's snap kick that he'd forgotten to watch out for Snape's other hand, which had slipped past his guard and smacked him stingingly.

"Draco, what have I told you about distractions?" Severus reprimanded, gliding around the boy in a swift circling motion, his hands up.

"That I need to watch out for them and know them for what they are," his student answered, keeping his own hands up, ready to block.

"And how do you know them for what they are, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I look into your eyes and watch the muscles on your chest, those telegraph intentions."

"Exactly. But, you forgot, and then you paid the price for your carelessness," said his teacher crisply, then he lunged at him, aiming for Draco's eyes with fingers outstretched.

Draco blocked the hand with an arm, but then peered from underneath it to notice one of Severus's feet striking towards him as well, aiming for his knee. He twisted to the side in a swift dodge, then launched an attack of his own, grabbing the other's outstretched shoulder and tugging hard, using the older man's momentum to toss him over his shoulder.

But Severus rolled deftly to his feet, and was back on the offensive in moments. "Good try, Draco," he said approvingly.

They all sparred for another ten minutes, before Severus called a halt, and had his students walk about with their hands on their heads and drink small sips of water. He let them rest for seven minutes before they returned to the center of the mats and he showed them the Flickering Wind maneuver, a combination that required them to use both hands and a sweeping foot kick in an attack that resembled a whirlwind. "This form is good as an attack, but it's hard to defend from, so you only want to use it if you're certain your enemy doesn't know the counter, for it leaves you vulnerable to a counterattack."

He made them practice the new form twenty-five times before he ordered them to use it on him, one at a time. "You first, Harry. Come at me."

Harry obeyed, trying to move as gracefully as Severus, but he was smaller and not as coordinated, and Severus blocked his Flickering Wind with a Shifting Sand counter. "Keep your head pointed at me, and your arms at shoulder level when you start to strike," he instructed, positioning Harry's arms and head correctly. "Again, Mr. Snape."

Harry repeated the maneuver, again it was blocked, this time his footwork was off. Once more Severus corrected him and said, "Again."

It took fifteen tries before Harry finally used the maneuver correctly against his father, and then Severus made him do it over until he was satisfied the technique was learned correctly. "Good. Practice that against Voldy until I tell you to stop." He beckoned to Draco. "Your turn, Draco."

Draco faced off against Severus once more, only Harry couldn't see how well he was doing, since he had to pay attention to his own set of forms. This time the dummy remained passive, allowing Harry to attack it a set number of times before it retaliated.

After another twenty minute session, both boys were panting and dripping with sweat. In contrast, Severus was barely breathing hard. He allowed them another seven minute break with sips of water, then Severus paired them with each other for ten minutes, watching and critiquing them as they fought.

"Draco, get your shoulder up higher, this isn't dance class!"

"Harry, turn your body halfway, no more, and put some power behind that punch! My grandmother smacked harder than that!"

"What do you call that, Mr. Malfoy? The chicken dance? I thought that was supposed to be a Snapdragon form."

Draco flushed and launched a quick Blurring Strike at Harry, who used the Mist Feint against it and ducked away. Then he used a Ghost Tap, freezing Draco's left arm for a moment, and enabling Harry to slam the Slytherin in the chest with a well-timed roundhouse.

Draco was nearly knocked sprawling and he glared at Harry before regaining his balance.

"Excellent timing, Mr. Snape," Severus praised.

"You got lucky," Draco said to Harry, shaking out his wrist.

"Did not. You just weren't paying attention," Harry argued, waiting for Draco to make the first move.

But the other boy was patient, and circled and sidestepped, all the while keeping an eye on his less experienced foe, waiting for the moment when Harry relaxed a fraction of a second too much.

Harry was determined to maintain his guard, but chance stepped in and caused his right foot to slip a little, throwing off his stance.

Draco was on him instantly, hands working in an up and down pattern, that knocked Harry's right arm down too far to block, enabling the Slytherin to get in a good tap on Harry's chin. "Still think that's luck, Harry?"

Harry staggered back, wincing a little. Draco had pulled the blow, so he wasn't knocked out, but the tap still made his jaw ache.

"Well done, Draco," their master praised. He checked his watch. "Five more minutes, then we'll call it an afternoon."

The boys nodded, for they were beginning to feel the strain of practicing for at least two hours, even with the small breaks Snape had given them. They sparred furiously for the last five minutes, though when Severus called a halt, their spar was declared a draw by him.

"Dad, can we watch you spar against Voldy?" asked Harry eagerly. He'd seen the Potions Master work out before against the dummy and it had been awesome.

"Yeah, Uncle Sev," Draco entreated, giving his godfather huge begging puppydog eyes. "I love it when you kick the crap out of that thing."

Severus rolled his eyes. It half-amused him when his two sons viewed his own sparring sessions against Voldy as a form of entertainment, like the things called video games the Muggle children played. Although Harry had assured him his practice sessions were just as good as any Mortal Kombat game, if not better.

"Very well. Finish cooling down then have a seat on the bench along the wall." Severus ordered. He waved his wand, upping the dummy's sparring level to a level eight session.

Draco and Harry swiftly obeyed, seating themselves on the small wooden bench built into the wall, they used it to put their water glasses on when they were through with them, or to rest tired aching muscles. Then they settled back to watch the master spar with animated Voldy.

Severus circled the dummy, moving lightly as a cat over the mats, his stocking feet making no sound. His arms were held at chest length, innocuously, but that casual pose was deceptive. He could move with the speed of the symbol of Slytherin House, and he was never so deadly as now. He stalked the dummy for a few minutes more, waiting patiently for Voldy to initiate the first strike, all of his senses hyperaware of his surroundings.

Voldy brought up his wand hand, muttering a Burning Hex. An illusionary jet of fire shot forth from the dummy's wand, but the professor was prepared and dived neatly out of the way. The fake fire scorched the mat where he'd been standing a minute before.

An instant later, Severus summoned a tornado force wind that threw the dummy across the room, where it thudded into the wall. That would have killed an ordinary opponent, and the dummy acknowledged the kill by standing up and bowing to the ground.

Then it sprang back to the attack, and this time Severus went on the defense, using combinations that looked like water flowing, but blocked all the moves Voldy used on him, setting the dummy back on it heels.

"Nice one, Dad!" Harry commented, feeling a little as if he were at a Quidditch match.

Severus paid no heed to his offspring's cheering, he was too focused on Voldy, who was trying to use a Wind Dancer attack form against him. It was one of the more advanced level forms, and Severus spent two minutes countering it, his feet and hands moving in a synchronized dance of death that was breathtaking to watch.

"Merlin!" whispered Draco in awe mixed with envy as his godfather proceeded to pound the dummy into a pancake. "I don't think I'll ever be that good."

"Me either."

"Huh. You're quicker than I am, Snape," Draco disagreed. "You've inherited his speed and probably his reflexes too."

Harry shrugged, he wasn't sure about that. Sometimes he learned the forms quickly, other times they took him days or even weeks to master. But Severus said that was normal, that everyone learned some forms easier than others.

But one of the most amazing things about watching Severus spar with Voldy was how they made it look so easy, as easy as drawing a breath. Severus didn't even appear winded, and he'd been sparring for nearly an hour now. A light sheen of sweat coated his brow, but otherwise you would never know he'd been working out.

For one instant, it appeared that Severus vanished into thin air, though he had not Apparated. No, this was Shadow Shifting, an very advanced move in kin-sa-dor, combining mental discipline with precise control over your body, enabling the user of it to seem as if they had disappeared.

Severus reappeared a second later on the opposite side of the dummy and counterattacked, punching a hole in the stuffed body. It repaired itself as the boys watched, and Severus drew back a bit, waiting his chance to strike again like a black flame.

Voldy sidled away, using the Crab Walk, presenting a vulnerable side to the Potions Master. But Severus wasn't stupid, and he avoided the trap neatly, refusing to be baited, he came around the dummy's left side and kicked it hard in the ribs, knocking it down.

It tried to attack him, using magic, but Severus countered the Slippery Hex with a disinterested-seeming wave of a hand, and the Slippery Hex was deflected, bouncing harmlessly off the wall. Before Voldy could clamber to its feet, Severus intoned a Blasting Curse and Voldy exploded.

"Yeah! Awesome!" the two boys crowed, and Draco punched a fist in the air.

It would take the dummy a few minutes to reform after that curse, so Severus used that time to meditate and focus.

Voldy blurred and a green glow surrounded it as the magic put it back together, then it counterattacked, soaring towards the Potions Master in a Swan Surge maneuver.

But Severus had been waiting for that, and countered it with a Snapping Fox, then moved in and struck the dummy in the face with a flattened upward sweep of his right palm.

Voldy's head snapped back and the dummy fell to the ground. Severus stepped back, breathing a bit heavier now. "End match," he called and the dummy immediately picked itself up and went back to the corner of the room, resting until it was time for another class.

"That was wickedly cool, Uncle Sev," said Draco, admiration glistening in his gray eyes. "I could never be as good as you."

"You may, Dragon, if you practice enough. Both you and Harry could if you really wanted to. But, like anything else, it takes time and discipline. Still, you both did well today." He walked back over by the door, where they had stacked their shoes and put his on. "Come, boys. We all need showers and then lunch."

The two obeyed, knowing a nice hot shower would feel delicious on their sore and weary muscles.

* * * * * *

A session of kin-sa-dor always left Draco pleasantly weary, and wishing he could take a nap. But he knew his guardian would insist he eat lunch at least before he fell asleep, and so he joined Harry and Severus in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat. Today they had cheese sandwiches with tomato and mayonnaise with a side of sour cream and onion crisps.

Afterwards, they retired to the den, sipping slowly on ice cold glasses of pineapple-mango lemonade, all of that made from freshly squeezed fruit grown in the orchard. Food had never tasted so good to either young wizard as it did at the manor, where over half of it was fresh, grown in the extremely fertile fae soil.

Normally, this was the time Harry would take out some Quidditch journal or the one from that half-blood fae called Severus and read it, and Draco would take a nap, or Severus would tell them some legend or story about one of the Prince ancestors, who had dealings with the High Court fae since the time Gwydion had fallen in love with his fae princess Alishara. The legends and some of the history was all recorded in volumes in the library, but some of it wasn't in any book, and Severus had learned of it from his kin-sa-dor master, another half-blood cousin name Sarai Kinsalari, related to them through the fae blood of Alishara.

"Sarai used to spend a week or two with me here during the summer, where she would train with me in kin-sa-dor and in the evenings she would tell me stories of her travels in the Unseen Realm and stories she had heard from her grandfather of our fae kindred. The fae have long memories and they rarely forget a well-told tale." he smiled reminiscently. "Sarai was a master storyteller."

"Do you think she might come here one day, Dad?" asked Harry. "I'd like to meet her."

"It's possible, though I haven't seen her in over a year and a half, not since I resumed my spying role for Dumbledore." Severus explained. "Sarai shows up out of the blue, she rarely lets me know when she's coming, she enjoys surprising me, I think." He caught Harry giving him a speculative look. "What, Harry? You have the strangest expression on your face."

Harry blinked. "I do? Uh, I was wondering, is all, what you did when you, uh, spied on the Death Eaters? Did you have to cast curses and stuff?"

Severus was quiet for several minutes, for much of the things he had witnessed as a spy were not fit for impressionable wizards to know. He had seen too many atrocities committed by the Death Eaters to ever sleep comfortably at night again, which was why he always kept a few vials of Dreamless Sleep on hand, to use when the nightmares became too bad.

He had been giving Harry measured doses of Dreamless Sleep as well ever since the last nightmare he had, but he knew he wouldn't be able to give his son it for too much longer, since there were herbs, namely poppy, distilled in that potion which were addictive if taken for too long of a period. He would have to start skipping days soon enough, weaning his son off of it gradually.

Harry shifted impatiently, the restless imp, Severus thought fondly, and at last he made answer to his son's query. "Sometimes I had to, when Lucius called for the participation of all members and was watching me too closely to dissemble. But most times, I could fake casting a curse that truly harmed a Muggle or a Muggleborn, who were their preferred targets. I learned how to be adept at illusions and glamours, to hide my true nature and avoid innocent blood on my hands. But I still hated it. I learned to speak half-truths rather than lying outright, because a lie could be picked up right away, but a half-truth couldn't be traced as easily."

"It's a good thing that glamour and illusion spells are easy for you, then." Harry surmised, knowing that the fae blood in all of them made them extremely good at illusion casting.

"Yes, it was very fortunate," Severus agreed. "Most wizards don't know how to cast a tight glamour, they're always leaving a portion of themselves uncovered. But the Prince affinity for glamour lets me cast a shield as tight as that of our fae cousins. Enough so I could fool Lucius, Macnair, Avery, and all the rest that I was doing the same kind of evil torture on a victim as they were." Severus's lip curled in remembered disgust and hatred. "Of course I was setting glamours on my "victim" and then when the coast was clear, I sent them back home, and made up an excuse to leave the evening "revels" and go home."

He closed his eyes for a few minutes before continuing. "It was a dangerous game I played, one wrong word and I would have ended down in the cellar of Macnair's home, being subjected to my friends' so-called hospitality. But by keeping alert and listening, I learned a great deal of their plans, and reported them all back to Dumbledore."

"How did you remember everything they said?" queried Draco.

"I trained my mind to retain information a certain way, after hearing it once. It proved extremely useful when I was trying to overhear two conversations at the same time." Severus cleared his throat then said, "I also put forth several of my own suggestions, some were my own ideas and others were thought up by Dumbledore, so we could control where they went and bring Aurors to the spot to arrest them. We captured quite a few that way."

"Did you fight them too, Dad?"

"No, that I had to leave to the Aurors, otherwise my role as Death Eater would have been compromised."

"Did they know who you were?"

"No, for my identity had to remain a secret. Only Dumbledore and Minerva, and the Weasleys ever knew the truth. Everyone else just thought I was a bad-tempered hermit that only lived to brew potions and terrorize students. But that was how I preferred it. The less people who know a secret, the less chance you are of being discovered."

Harry bit his lip, then asked uncertainly, "Uh, this might seem like a stupid question, but why are the Death Eaters still active if Voldemort is dead?"

Severus scowled. "Because , Harry, the Death Eaters are not all of a piece. They are, for lack of a better term, terrorists, and those kind are never willing to follow one murderer for a time. They need the chaos and the corruption. And if there is none, they'll create some. The way they've been doing this summer." His lips tightened in a grim line. "They might worship Voldemort, but they sure as hell aren't going to wait for him to come back before having some fun with Muggleborns and the like."

Draco nodded. "I remember once or twice, my dad coming home from meetings and telling my mother the next morning how they had killed a Muggle or her and her two sisters, or a whole group of them like it was nothing. Like they were killing ants instead of actual people. It was ruddy awful."

"And your mother, did she approve of it?"

"Yes. Mother was a supporter of Voldemort as well. The only thing she and Father disagreed on was making me into a Death Eater. She wanted to wait until I graduated Hogwarts, but he wanted it done now." Draco related. "So . . .he only got me a partial initiation, the full one would have to wait until I was seventeen." The other boy shuddered slightly. "But that one was bad enough. I don't even want to know what the real ceremony is like."

"No, you don't," Severus said feelingly, recalling the searing agony of the brand Lucius had used upon his arm, marking him forever as a follower of Voldemort, even though he was the dark wizard's mortal enemy. And then they had drunk a toast to their new member, of wine mixed with the blood of some luckless child they had sacrificed that day. Severus swallowed recalling the sickeningly salty taste of the wine, he had poured most of it out, using illusion so they would see, but he'd had to swallow some of it. Afterwards, when he had returned to headquarters and made his report, he had spent an hour vomiting everything in his stomach and had been unable to eat anything for two days, he'd been so nauseated. He had felt tainted to his soul, afflicted by the evil he had seen and the brand upon his arm, which throbbed despite all the magical salve he had placed upon it.

Dumbledore had been sympathetic, but had still sent him out again to another meeting in a fortnight, knowing that Severus was now perfectly placed to be his eyes and ears in the enemy camp. Now he was a trusted follower, for only those who were trusted were permitted to wear the brand.

Some six months after that he had overheard the prophecy concerning the Chosen One and had reported it to the Dark Lord, but had deliberately left some of it out, so that Voldemort was left with only a partial prophecy. Only Dumbledore and Severus and Trelawney knew the whole thing and Albus had recorded it in the Hall of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries.

Little did I know, the stupid witch would be seeing the future of my own son. Or what they insist is the future, Severus amended, for he refused to put Harry in harm's way anymore. He had seen too many innocents die to ever be willing to risk his own son's life, or any child's.

"You met old Voldy, didn't you?" Draco asked then.

"Yes, many times. I was Lucius's initiate and he was close with Riddle, so we saw a lot of each other."

"And he never knew you were a spy," Harry smirked. "Guess he wasn't as all powerful as your father thought, huh, Draco?"

"Oh, he could read minds, after a fashion," Severus disagreed. "But I was protected against him by another talent given to me by the fae ancestry. I could Occlude my mind, using a discipline known as Occlumency, and he could not penetrate it, no matter how much he tried. He could only scan those thought uppermost in my mind and no more. It saved my life."

"Can we do it too?" Harry wanted to know.

"I would say you probably have a knack for it, given you too are of the Prince blood. But right now you have enough to study with kin-sa-dor to begin having lessons in Occlumency just yet. Perhaps in a few months, when you have mastered more meditation skills, I shall teach you, if you both wish it."

"That'd be great." Harry said.

"Yeah," agreed Draco.

"Enough about this topic," Severus declared abruptly. "There is much darkness in my former life, and this topic is not one that I wish to dwell on at the moment. Soon enough you will be back at school and facing the reactions of your peers because of your new relationship with me, and there will be time enough then to speak of how a former spy operated in the camp of the enemy. For now, enjoy the weeks you have left here at the manor, for I fear they are the only truly peaceful ones you will know once you return to the real world. Summer's end is fast approaching, boys. Better make the most of it."

"I will, Uncle Sev," vowed Draco, yawning. "And right now I'm gonna take a long nap." And with that, he shut his eyes and curled up on the couch, asleep between one blink and the next.

Severus leaned over and placed a light afghan over the slumbering teen, while Harry shook his head in amazement at his foster brother.

"How does he do that, Dad?"

"Do what? Fall asleep anywhere in the blink of an eye?"

"Yeah."

"That's his special talent," Severus chuckled. "If you're tired, you might want to copy him."

"Nah. I'm not really sleepy," Harry said. "Think I'll read some more about Sev Half Blood." He picked up the journal, and opened it to the page he'd marked with a scrap of green silk ribbon and began to read.

But twenty minutes later his eyes shut involuntarily and he fell asleep with the book over his face.

When Severus glanced over at his son a moment later, he saw Harry asleep on the small sofa, and he rose and removed the journal and his son's glasses before tucking a blanket about him as well.

Right then, a nap seemed like an ideal thing, the Potions Master mused, and he too settled down in the recliner for a snooze.

Dawn had just broken and the sun crested the tops of the peach and merlinna trees in the Prince orchard when Harry mounted his Firebolt and flew for the first time in over three weeks. He had asked Severus last night for the broom and turned in his Broom For An Afternoon pass he'd won at Dragons Wild. Actually, Severus had agreed to let him have the broom for a whole day, provided Harry didn't get into any trouble with it. Harry had sworn by Merlin and his wizard's oath he would stay out of trouble, and he did not intend to be foresworn.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw his beloved Firebolt hanging on the wall and he just had to jump out of bed, throw on some clothes and go flying. Draco was still snoozing in the next bed, he'd used his own Sleep Away A Day pass for today, so Harry was sure he wouldn't see the blond poke his nose out of doors until one o'clock, at the earliest.

Harry curved the Firebolt in and out of the orchard, brushing up on his turns and aerial maneuvers. He hadn't lost his old skill on a broom, but he thought his reflexes might be a hair too slow and he needed to work to regain the edge he'd had before his punishment. As a Seeker, he couldn't afford to be a fraction of a second off, or he'd miss the Snitch. He resolved to speak to his father and explain that he needed to practice with his broom at least a week before school began, so he didn't lose his edge, and didn't have to bust his arse the way he usually did to bring himself back to the competitive edge he needed to play Quidditch after spending the summer with the Dursleys. Talent was all well and good, but practice was essential in order to be at the top of his game.

Surely Severus would understand, he knew how much Harry loved flying and being the Gryffindor Seeker. After all, Severus had played Quidditch too at school, he'd been a Chaser, until a Bludger to the face had nearly ended his life, not to mention his career as a Chaser. After that, Severus had decided it wasn't worth it and concentrated on academics and potions and Defense.

"So my natural ability on a broom is inherited too, huh, Dad?" Harry had remarked after Severus had told him that little tidbit about his schooldays.

"It would seem so, Harry. Your old man was no slouch on a broom once upon a time. That's why I referee some of the matches at school. Dumbledore knows that I know every trick in the book and I can spot a foul in an instant, and catch the offender if he or she refuses to stop when I call them out."

"Has that ever happened?"

"Once or twice." His father scowled. "And the student has always been suspended from the team afterwards for at least three weeks."

Harry winced, but then said, "They had to be idiots, not to stop when you told them to, Dad."

"They were, though two of them were from my House and assumed my command was for everyone except Slytherins. I soon taught them the error of their ways."

I'll just bet you did! Harry thought with a smirk. No one crosses Severus Snape and gets off scot free. Especially not if you're his son or a member of his House. He glanced speculatively at his parent before saying, "Maybe someday, when I finally get my broom back for good, we can play some Quidditch?" He then wondered if Severus would refuse, for he had always sneered at Harry for being Seeker before. Then again, that was when Snape had thought Harry was James's son, and perhaps his scorn had not been for Harry's position as Seeker, but for his following in James's footsteps.

Severus must have recognized the wistful and hopeful tone in Harry's voice, for he said, "Yes . . .once you've served your punishment, I wouldn't mind playing a game with you and Draco as well. But . . .you still have another four weeks of your punishment, son."

And Harry had groaned, then produced his pass, and won back his Firebolt for a day.

He glided easily around the small Anjou pear tree, heading towards the merlinna trees, where he could pick the ripe fruit by the dawn's early light, another reason he was awake at the crack of dawn. He had developed a fondness, no, more of an addiction, to merlinna fruit and juice since coming to the manor, and he hadn't had fresh fruit in a week because he'd been too tired to get up at dawn and pick some.

He had a small satchel over one shoulder, and he used this to put the merlinnas in. He hovered right next to the first tree in the row, and began to gently pluck the purplish-red heart-shaped fruit from the branches and slip them gently inside the satchel. The trees rarely had more than twenty fruits ripening at a time, merlinna were a fae fruit and did not follow ordinary laws when producing fruit. Severus had once speculated that the merlinna would produce fruit in abundance so long as the heir to Prince Manor was in residence, or the heir apparent, and when absent, the merlinnas would grow dormant.

Harry supposed his father was right in that theory, since the trees now grew more fruit than when Harry had first come to the manor months ago. He recalled reading in Sev Half-Blood's journal that the land and the lord were one, and in Merlin's time, the lord was bonded to his land, and it reflected the state of the lord's mind and health. If the lord were well, the land prospered, crops were plentiful and herds increased dramatically. But if the lord grew ill or turned evil, the land reflected that as well, crops withered, herds died, and the people were miserable.

Perhaps that was what was happening here, Harry mused, moving onto the next tree and stripping that one bare of fruit also. Everything grows like crazy here, all I have to do is spit and a plant appears, practically. Aunt Petunia would love it here, she always loved a productive garden. I wonder where she is and how she and Dudley are doing now that the fat bastard is dead? He made a mental note to ask Severus if he knew the whereabouts of the remaining Dursleys, because Harry would like to write to them.

And pray that they get the letter and it doesn't get lost or whatever, like Sirius's. He was still awaiting a reply from his godfather, so far he'd heard nothing from the man since he had written him informing him that he was Severus's son and not James's. Harry didn't know what to make of the other's silence . . .was it an angry refusal to accept that Harry was Severus's son? Or was it an awkward silence, and Harry could hold out hope that Sirius would accept him, no matter who his father was?

As he pondered, his hands worked busily, plucking the fruit and sticking it in his satchel. He had enough in there now to satisfy his craving for juice for another week and he hoped that all he gathered now would be enough to last him for another two weeks, at least. Draco also liked merlinnas, but he wasn't addicted to them the way his foster brother was, and he once teased Harry about his eating so many merlinnas, saying that if Harry weren't careful, he'd turn into a merlinna from constant exposure. Harry had just ignored him and ate another from the bowl of fresh fruit that was always upon the kitchen table.

He had just finished with the second tree and was moving over to the next when he heard it.

A soft cry, like that of a small animal.

Harry cocked his head, wondering if he had imagined it. He knew there were wild animals that lived in the small wood on the manor grounds, but so far the only animals he had seen had been a few deer, birds, rabbits, and squirrels.

The cry came again, and this time Harry knew he was not imagining it. It sounded desperate and more like a cat meowing than anything else Harry could name. Filled with a strange sense of urgency, he turned his broom towards the small vegetable garden bordering the orchard.

He touched down lightly in front of a patch of lettuces, peering about for the hurt cat or whatever it was.

:Help me!:

Harry rubbed his eyes. For just an instant, he could have sworn someone had yelled "Help me" into his ear. But there was no one out here except himself. "I must be dreaming," he muttered. "Draco's sleeping like the dead and Dad's down in his lab experimenting with a new type of Dreamless Sleep potion. Pull yourself together, Harry. Insanity shouldn't be setting in this early."

Again came that faint plaintive mewing.

:Help me! I beg of you!:

Now Harry really jumped out of his skin. "Okay, this isn't funny any more. Who said that?"

:I did. Look down, clumsy Tall One.:

Harry knelt down, praying this wasn't some kind of hallucination, and immediately spied a limp black form huddled under the second head of lettuce. "Huh? What in Merlin's name are you?" he asked, moving the lettuce aside so he could see the creature lying beneath it.

The creature resembled a tiny black cat, it was no bigger than Harry's hand and wrist lengthwise, but it had large wings attached to its shoulderblades, wings that were in tatters, and the tiny animal had its eyes closed and was breathing in shallow painful gasps. It appeared to have gotten into a fight with something that had left large gashes in its side, as far as Harry could tell.

He extended a hand and said softly, "Hey. My name is Harry and if you'll lie still, maybe I can help you."

One eye opened cautiously, it was a vivid purple color. :Hurry, human. My strength fades.:

His mouth fell open. "Holy Merlin! You can speak!"

The strange creature's eye closed then, too exhausted to keep it open. Harry tried to recall if he'd read about such creatures in Severus Prince's journal, but couldn't recall his ancestor describing anything like this. Harry gently slid a palm beneath the injured creature, holding it flat like a stretcher.

It barely weighed anything, and Harry quickly mounted his broom, flying as quickly and as cautiously as he dared back to the house. The little winged cat hadn't stirred since encountering Harry, and the Gryffindor could tell that it hadn't had much to eat recently, its ribs were starting to show through the soft pelt.

"Don't worry. I'm taking you to my father, Professor Snape. He's a Potions Master, maybe he can heal you." Harry told it, trying to reassure it.

He practically ran down the hall and banged loudly on the lab door, which Severus had locked. "Dad? Come here, quickly! I need your help."

"Harry? Just a minute."

Harry could hear his father moving about inside, then the door was thrown open and Severus stood there, his brow creased with worry. "What happened, son? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. But this-whatever it is-isn't and I don't know what to do to help it get well."

Severus peered at the tiny cat with the tattered wings and cursed softly under his breath. "Bring it inside the lab, Harry. And hurry, I don't think it's got much time."

Harry followed practically on Severus's heels. "Dad, what is this creature?"

Severus was silent for a minute, his brain focusing on how he was going to save this tiny thing and what potions he would need. Then he blinked and said quietly, "It's called a shimmerling, Harry. And I think it's dying."

By the time Harry had entered the lab and Severus summoned a Blood Replenisher, a Class Five Pain Reliever, and a Breathe Ease Elixir, the shimmerling had turned a dull gray instead of the vibrant blue-black it had been before. Harry was alarmed, he'd never seen a creature fade so fast before. One minute it had been calling out for help, and the next it looked like it was drawing its last breath.

"Dad!"

Severus took one glance at the limp fae creature and sighed. "It's the proximity to iron here. Put it down here, on the cushion. Don't let it touch the surface of my lab table, it's stainless steel, and such is poison to most fae creatures. Iron is a fairy's bane." He made certain the little fairy cat would not slide off the cushion by erecting a small invisible shield about the cushion he had conjured, then he said to Harry, "I need a small dropper, it's in the second drawer on the left, top shelf against the right hand wall. Also some soft cloths and a basin of water."

Harry ran to do as he'd been told, knowing time was of the essence. The little cat's life hung by a thread.

Meanwhile, Severus cast a spell that would stabilize the tiny animal's heartbeat and respiration, for the shimmerling's heartbeat was fluctuating wildly and it was barely breathing. Then he cast a quick diagnostic, alarmed at the state the fae creature was in. In addition to major blood loss and trauma to the shimmerling's wings and shoulder and side, it appeared as if it had been torn open by a set of extremely strong jaws or claws, it had a cracked rib, a broken pelvis, and was in shock.

"Whatever you ran into, little one, nearly finished you. How you managed to get here after whatever it was attacked you is beyond me, since you couldn't have flown on those shredded membranes." Severus gently lifted one poor torn violet and turquoise colored membrane with a fingertip, it was thin as tissue paper, and the once-vibrant iridescent coloring was dull, and smeared with dried blood.

"Here, Dad." Harry said, at his elbow with the items Snape had requested. "Can you fix it, or should I . . .uh . . ." he hesitated, afraid to say anything associated with the word death aloud, he might jinx the poor thing.

"I will do my best, Harry. But I may need your help. Some of the damage I can heal with magic, but some . . .the fae don't always respond well to human wizards' potions, their physiology is different from ours, and I can't give the shimmerling certain kinds of drafts, or else I might kill it. So some of this I'm going to have heal the old-fashioned Muggle way."

"What do you need me to do, Dad?" asked his son, eager to help save a life.

"Mostly, hand me things and such, you can't cast spells you don't know, though if you observe me closely, you may learn some techniques on healing."

"Are you gonna use the same spell you did on your arm the first time you arrived at Aunt Petunia's?"

"I would, but that spell is too much for the shimmerling to tolerate, so I'll have to use another, lesser one." Severus picked up a soft cloth, pointed his wand at the basin and intoned a water purifier poured a few drops of peroxide into it. Then he dipped the end of the cloth into the liquid and began to clean the lacerations along the shimmerling's shoulder, side, and stomach. They were deep and bled sluggishly when he swabbed them out. But the catlike creature barely stirred, even though Harry imagined Severus's ministrations must hurt quite a bit.

After the wounds were cleaned, the Potions Master picked up a very small medicine dropper and inserted it into the vial of Blood Replenisher. "Harry, I need you to hold its head up, and open the mouth a little, so I can give it this potion."

Harry gently cupped the shimmerling's head inbetween his finger and thumb, tilting it up and opening its jaws with a slight pressure so Snape could administer the potion.

Severus gave the shimmerling three drops, then banished the excess from the dropper. "Steady, Harry, I'm going to give it a Pain Reliever next, and then recast a diagnostic before I cast a Bone Mending Charm."

The Potions Master drew another potion into the dropper and gave it to the shimmerling. The creature seemed to relax a little, Harry thought, gently laying the head down on the cushion. He watched as Severus cast another diagnostic, then intoned a quick Bone Mending Charm, which would heal the cracked rib and shattered pelvis. Harry thought the shimmerling was lucky, since it didn't have to drink the revolting Skele-Gro, the way he'd had to during second year, after that dolt Lockhart had removed all the bones in his arm.

Severus studied the gravely injured shimmerling for a bit after that, pondering what he ought to do next. Should he suture the wings next or seal the wounds on the creature's body? He opted for the wounds on the body, and cast a light charm used by most non-Healers to mend superficial cuts and scrapes. The wounds slowly closed, and then Severus told Harry to fetch him some soft silk strips he kept in the drawer with the cloths.

Harry muttered a summoning charm and then handed the strips of silk to his father, who wound them about the comatose shimmerling as a bandage. "Hmm. The little thing is in shock still, as well as dehydrated from losing so much blood."

"How do you know that, Dad?"

"My diagnostic spell and commonsense tells me so," Snape answered softly. "Let me give it another potion to help it breathe and then I'm going to cast a Shock Restorative. After that, the real work begins."

"What d'you mean?" his son asked, puzzled.

"I mean, I'm going to have suture those wings back together by hand, mostly. That's where you come in, Harry. Your hands are smaller than mine, I'm going to need you to hold the membrane flat as I sew."

Harry looked slightly ill. "Dad, I've never done anything like this before. What if I mess up?"

"You won't. I have confidence in you," Severus said firmly. He thanked his lucky stars he had experience in sewing up flesh before, namely his own. "Take a deep breath, find your center, then do as I tell you," he instructed, sounding a great deal calmer than he felt. He administered the Breath Ease Elixir and as soon as he had done so, the shimmerling seemed to rally and some of the color return to its fur. But it remained unconscious, which was a good thing for all concerned.

"Pay attention, Harry. This spell is one you should learn, it could save your life or the life of a friend if you ever are in a situation where one or the other is gravely wounded." Snape said, then chanted the words to the Shock Restorative slowly and precisely.

Harry mouthed the spell to himself, trying to remember Snape's exact pronunciation and intonation, for such was vital to casting a spell correctly. When he had thought he had it down, he said, "I think I've got it, Dad," only to be hushed irritably by his father as Snape attempted to listen to the shimmerling's breathing and heartbeat.

Once Severus was satisfied the shimmerling was stable, he turned to Harry and said, "All right son, I need your hands. I want you to pick the shimmerling up so I can stretch out those membranes and hopefully manage to suture them back together."

"Okay," Harry said uncertainly, lifting the tiny creature cautiously.

Severus's long fingered hands deftly stretched out the wing membranes, which were in four sections, like a the wings of a butterfly, and just as delicate-looking. Once he had unfolded the crumpled membranes, painstakingly handling them as if they were glass, he ordered Harry to place the shimmerling flat on the cushion again.

Harry obeyed. "What now?"

"Now I need my suture kit and the smallest most delicate piece of thread I can find, as well as the tiniest needle." Severus said, and summoned the required kit to him with a brief wave of his wand.

"Dad, have you done this before?"

Severus nodded. "Yes. Once or twice on myself, and on Lily when we were fourteen and she fell off her broom and cut open her leg on a sharp rock."

"You sewed up Mum when she was hurt?" Harry repeated in amazement. "Where did you learn?"

"My mother. She was skilled with healing as well as potions."

"How come you just didn't use magic?"

"Because it was summer and we weren't allowed," his father replied shortly. "Enough reminiscing. I'll tell you the whole story later on. Right now I need to concentrate." Severus cast a disinfecting charm over his suture kit, then selected the tiniest needle he had and the thinnest delicate thread. He took several deep breaths, centering himself the way he did for meditation. He picked up the curved needle and threaded it.

"All right, Harry. I need you to hold the wing membranes down while I start sewing," he ordered. He spoke another word and the cushion flattened down over the lab table like a cloth, giving Harry room to hold the membrane flat and still while Severus sewed.

Harry pressed the tips of his fingers against the delicate membrane and applied a small amount of pressure. The wings were badly torn, jagged tears that suggested something with teeth had grabbed hold of the shimmerling and bit down. He hoped Severus could sew well.

"Good. Steady now," the Potions Master ordered, his voice low and soothing. He began to sew, his hands making deft tiny stitches.

Harry could barely see them, they were so tiny, and he concentrated on holding the wing steady and not moving, though he badly wanted to fidget. He wondered how in hell Severus could sew so well, the stitches were precise and even, the curved needle flashing in and out swiftly.

There was a look of intense and utter concentration on the professor's face then, and Harry remained stock still and quiet, sensing now was not the time to plague Snape with questions.

Bit by bit, the Potions Master put back the tattered wings as best as he could, hoping that it wasn't in vain and the shimmerling would last the night. That was the crisis stage, he thought as he sewed. If it made it through the night, he was almost certain it would survive.

Harry remained steady as a rock, though his shoulders ached and his fingers longed to twitch restlessly as time crept by and the only sound in the lab was their breathing and the soft shush of the needle as it mended the ragged edges of the wing membranes.

After an hour, though it seemed like much longer, Severus had finished and straightened up. He examined his handiwork critically, the beautiful, graceful wings were marred with dozens of stitches but at least they were whole. "There! That should hold until they knit together on their own."

Harry carefully removed his fingers, looking over the shimmerling's newly mended wings as well. "You did a great job, Dad. I can hardly see your stitches. D'you think it'll live?"

Severus hesitated before speaking. "I hope so. But the fae are unpredictable. It all depends on this one's will to live. We'll know for sure in the morning." He transfigured the cloth back into a cushion and cradled it against him. "We need to move it away from here, there's too much iron here for it to recover properly."

"How about we put it in the den, maybe next to the fire?" suggested Harry.

"Good thinking. I'll keep the fire banked, so it will be kept warm and the stones on the hearth won't be harmful to it, not with it sleeping on the cushion." He carefully carried the shimmerling from the lab.

Harry watched as Severus set the cushion down and lit the fire with a quiet, "Incendio!" Then, once the little creature was settled, Severus came to sit down on the couch, rubbing a hand across his eyes, which were achy after staring so intently on a pair of gossamer wings.

"Dad, when . . .when I first found it . . .I heard a voice in my head," began Harry hesitantly. "I think it spoke to me, and asked me to help it." As soon as he said it, he felt like an idiot. Whoever heard of an animal talking? Even the magical creatures he'd studied at school didn't do that. He flushed hotly, waiting for the Potion Master's sarcastic comment.

But Severus just raised an eyebrow and said, "You heard it in your head, you say? Shimmerlings are telepathic, or so it's said, but they choose to speak to very few outside of the Faerie Realm."

"Oh. Well, it was dying, so I guess it figured it had better get help fast." Harry said, heaving a silent sigh of relief. So it had been real, and not a figment of his imagination. He suddenly felt a whole lot better. At least now he knew he wasn't going insane.

Severus leaned back on the couch, content to rest for a bit before returning to his lab and cleaning up.

Harry waited a moment before asking tentatively, "Uh, Dad? Will you tell me about that time you fixed up Mum? Please?" He craved stories of Lily, the bright pretty witch he could hardly recall, and this one sounded particularly interesting.

Severus sighed. "Very well. It happened in the summertime before our fifth year. We were in her backyard and Lily was practicing some Quidditch moves that James had shown her. Only she wasn't the flyer James was and she fell off her broom. Luckily, she managed to grab a tree branch and that slowed her fall down somewhat, enough so that when she landed she only gashed open her knee rather than splattered everywhere."

"It was a rather deep cut, deep enough to require stitches, as I knew perfectly well. So I asked Lily if she wanted to go to the hospital or let me fix it and she chose me. I cleaned it out and gave her a strong pain reliever and another potion that acted like an anesthetic. She was very brave, she didn't faint or have hysterics or anything like that. She just looked at me and said, "I trust you, Sev. Do what you have to." And I did."

"Were you nervous?"

Snape chuckled softly. "Harry, I was terrified. I had never sewn up anyone before, only practiced with my mother supervising on her medical dolls. And she was my best friend. But there was no one else, we were alone at her house for the day, since her parents and Petunia had gone to a movie. It took six stitches to close the gash, and I gritted my teeth through every one of them, but I managed to finish the job without disgracing myself. And Lily rewarded me with a great big hug and a kiss, so it was worth it. She said I'd make a magnificent Healer. Too bad I didn't heed her advice and become one instead of a spy," Severus said with a hint of wistfulness in his tone. Then it vanished, and Harry wondered whether he'd ever heard it at all.

Harry glanced at the clock upon the mantle. It only read twelve-thirty, and Harry recalled he still had most of the day left to go flying. Funny, it had seemed much later. "Dad? I'm going to go fly some more, all right?"

"Fine, Harry. Just come back in at two for lunch. Draco should be up by then."

"Yes, sir." He rose from the couch. "I promise not to go around rescuing any more injured animals."

"Off with you, Harry." Severus shooed him away with a lazy wave.

Harry put his sack of merlinnas on the kitchen table. Then he opened the screen door and let himself back out into the sunshine. His Firebolt was right where he'd left it, and before you could blink, Harry was soaring up in the air.

He flew like a wind demon for nearly the whole day, only coming in for lunch, where Draco joined them. "Hello. Anything interesting happen while I was sleeping?"

Harry and Severus exchanged glances. "Tell him, Harry." Severus urged. "After all, you were the one who found it."

"Huh? Found what?"

"The shimmerling," Harry answered.

"What's that? A fae magical creature?"

"Yes. It's highly intelligent and can speak mind-to-mind." Severus interjected.

"Wicked! Where is it? Can I see it?"

"It's sleeping on a cushion in front of the fire," Harry told him. "It's very weak and we're not sure if it'll live, it was half-dead when I found it in the garden. But Dad healed it with potions and spells, so maybe it won't die."

"I hope not. This is the first fae creature I've seen since coming here," said Draco, rising and going into the den to see the slumbering shimmerling.

The blond wizard knelt down on the hearth to examine the tiny winged cat, marveling at how perfectly formed it was and exclaiming on the nice job his godfather had done on the shimmerling's wings and all. "I could have never done that," he confessed to Harry upon noticing his foster brother had followed him. "Just the thought of doing it makes me feel like puking."

"I'll remember to never get cut open when I'm around you," Harry teased, smirking. "I don't want to bleed to death."

"Good idea, Snape." Draco laughed softly. He said a silent prayer that the shimmerling recovered. Then he flopped back on the couch. "Think I'll take a nap."

"A NAP?" harry repeated in disbelief. "Merlin, Draco, you like slept the WHOLE day and now you want to go back to sleep?"

"Yeah. You can never have too much sleep. Least not in my book," his foster brother said with a cheeky grin. Then he closed his eyes and was asleep in ten minutes.

"Unbelievable," Harry muttered. Then he went and settled down in the recliner with a glass of merlinna juice and a book on fairy creatures he'd taken from the library. He hadn't used the library as much as he could have, but he had to admit that it was much easier to find things in it than the library at Hogwarts and he liked it better because it had no Madam Pince hovering and eyeing the students evilly.

He started to read about shimmerlings, but before he had gotten much past two paragraphs his eyes closed and he fell asleep as well.

Severus came in to check on the shimmerling, found his two sons sleeping and smiled and left them that way.

After dinner that night, the three played a rousing game of Dragons Wild, only this time Harry won two hands and Draco one. Then Severus told them to go to sleep and they gave token protests, since they weren't all that tired, but the Potions Master would have none of it, and the two went to bed.

In the middle of the night, Harry woke up and slipped into the den to see if the shimmerling were still alive.

It was, sleeping soundly and peacefully.

Harry smiled, and for some reason picked up the cushion the little animal was on and went to sit on the couch with it. Before long the flickering fire and the warmth put Harry back to sleep.

Severus awoke the next morning and went into the den, only to discover his son asleep on the couch and the shimmerling dozing on his chest, looking to be well on the road to recovery. Severus smiled. Looks like I haven't lost my touch yet. Then he continued on into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

Harry awoke to a pair of vibrant lavender eyes peering into his own. The shimmerling had awoken and was staring into his emerald eyes curiously, its small pink nose twitching. Harry blinked, then smiled, feeling an unaccustomed quiver of delight run through him. The fae cat was alive, they had rescued it from the jaws of an untimely death after all. He felt a sudden surge of pride both in his father and himself, and he whispered, not wanting to frighten the catlike creature away, "Hello. You're alive. I-We were worried you might not make it, but I guess you're tougher than you look."

:Indeed. I am not a delicate fly-by-night like a flutterby or pitterpatter pixie, you know.: the shimmerling sent indignantly into the boy's mind. :We shimmerlings are made of sterner stuff, we have to be, since we are the High Queen's messengers in the World Beyond.:

"You really can talk!" Harry exclaimed. "Dad said you were telepathic, but I didn't really believe him."

The shimmerling sniffed. :Humph! Yes, you humans are not the only ones with higher brain functions, you know. Next time, listen to the wisdom of your elders, young wizard.:

"You know I'm a wizard, then?"

:Of course I do! Any shimmerling out of its first fur can tell a wizard by his smell. What have you been studying that you don't know that? A bit backward, are you?:

Harry felt himself flush at the creature's tone, which held equal mixtures of condescension and pity. "No, I'm not backward at all. It's just that I've only learned about your kind yesterday, so I don't know much about you."

:Ah. I see. Ignorance is easily remedied then. But first things first. My mother named me Inularian, ah, you would say . . .Smidgen . . .in your tongue. And you are?:

"Harry. Harry Albus Snape, but you can just call me Harry."

:Well met, and shade and sun to you, Harry. You are of the Prince bloodline, is that not so? For only those with the blood of the fae may reside in Prince Manor.:

"Yes. My dad, Severus Snape, is the heir to the manor. And I've got a . . .foster brother here as well, Draco Malfoy."

:Good. It is well the manor was occupied when I . . .ah . . .met with my unfortunate accident: Smidgen looked slightly embarrassed.

"What happened to you? You looked like something...er...bit you."

:Something did. It was a lurk, a sneaky sharp-toothed evil thing, a denizen of the Unseelie Court. I was returning home with some news for Queen Titania when I passed too near its lair and it caught me. Its venom neutralized my magic so I could not call for help or fly away. It nearly finished me, but it was scared off by a wandering darkhound, and I managed to blink myself over the mist into the garden.:

"You can get through the Evermist?"

:Yes, but we know better than to trespass unless there is great need.: Smidgen replied primly, sitting up stiffly, her wings hanging limply against her sides. Harry did not know how he knew she was female, but he got a sense that she was, and didn't bother to question it. :I am glad you heard me, young apprentice, else I fear I would have been gone to the Bright One's Embrace ere now. For that, I owe you a debt.:

"Uh, well, actually, you ought to owe my father one, since he's the one who really saved you. I just brought you to him and assisted him with some potions and stuff," Harry admitted.

:Your assistance was greatly appreciated, and while I do owe Wizard Severus a greater debt, that does not cancel out the one I owe you, Harry. A life saved is a life saved. I am in your debt until I save you in turn, thus says the Accords.:

"The what?"

:The Accords, young one. The laws that govern the fae of the Seelie Court and their dealings with humans. Ai, your father has neglected your education shamefully!: the shimmerling scolded, her mindvoice sharp with disapproval.

"No, not really. It's just . . .well I haven't had time to study much about the Faerie Realm since I've been doing punishment chores and all."

:Oh? And for what reason were you punished, little Snape?: queried Smidgen curiously.

"Mostly for fighting nonstop with my . . .uh . . . foster brother. Dad got sick of it and he made us do chores together and stuff until we learned to get along."

:Wise decision. You have learned your lesson then?:

Harry nodded. "Yes, we both have." He chuckled softly. "You're a nosy one, aren't you?"

:Alas, that is the besetting fault of my kind, eternal curiosity. It is why we make such good messengers, though I am more than merely a messenger.: Smidgen admitted in amusement.

Before Harry could ask what she meant, Severus came into the den to wake Harry for breakfast and check up on his patient. "Time for breakfast, Harry. You can-" he broke off abruptly when he saw that both were awake, and inclined his head to the shimmerling. "My Lady Curiosity, it would seem you're recovering nicely, since you're awake so soon after being injured."

The shimmerling rose and bowed back to him, lowering her front half to the cushion and hissing :Your son here tells me I have you to thank for keeping me from the Realm of the Dead, Wizard Severus. I owe you a debt for saving my life. How may I best serve you?:

"Serve me?" Severus repeated uneasily. "I hold no creature in bondage here."

"I .. .thank you." Severus said awkwardly, for he was not used to anyone owing him anything. Then he turned to his son and said, "Harry, why don't you go and wake up Draco for breakfast?"

"All right," Harry agreed, then set the cushion with Smidgen on it down and rose to go wake the sleep-adoring Slytherin.

Smidgen remained seated on the cushion, her tail wrapped neatly about her paws, eyeing Severus with interest. :Was it you who stitched my wings back together?:

"Yes. Why? Are they bothering you? I could give you a pain reliever, if you'd like."

:No, that will not be necessary. I have slept enough and my wings will heal swiftly now that I am not at death's door. All of us fae have quick healing, I shall be fully mended within a week. I simply wished to know who sewed my wings back because you did a superb job, almost as good as any of us could have done. They will mend fully and I shall be able to fly again, thank the Moon and Stars!: the relief in the shimmerling's tone was plain to hear.

"I'm glad I could fix them," said Severus sincerely. "You said you were a messenger and a dreamweaver. Just what is a dreamweaver?"

:A dreamweaver is a shimmerling whose special gift is to walk into the dreams of others and help them face their own fears or interpret what their dreams mean so you can gain a better understanding of what your mind is trying to tell you. I was born with the gift, Wizard Severus, and you can tell what I am by the color of my fur and wings. Only one born to a dreamweaver's destiny has the midnight fur, violet eyes, and purple and turquoise wings.:

"I see. Your talent . . .does it also extend to dealing with nightmares?" Severus asked quickly.

The shimmering nodded once. :It does. Is there a particular dream that is troubling you?:

"Not me, Smidgen. My son Harry suffers from reoccurring night terrors and anxiety attacks." Snape went on to explain how he had been giving Harry Dreamless Sleep Potion but was quickly reaching his limit, and he wanted to help Harry conquer these bloody dreams for good and all, only he was unsure how to go about it.

:Ah. A fit task for me. I will see what I can do later on tonight.: Smidgen promised. Then she gazed wistfully up at the tall wizard. :May I join you for breakfast? I am feeling a wee bit hungry.:

"Of course, you're a guest," Severus invited, then held out a hand for the shimmerling to step up on, and carried her into the kitchen. He set the tiny cat on the table and asked what she liked to eat.

He gave her, as per her request, a tiny saucer of milk with a drop of honey, a very small piece of sausage, and a smidgen of toast with butter.

By then the boys had come into the kitchen and were starving. Draco did recall his manners, and greeted their unexpected houseguest politely, once she had told him good morning, and he realized she was no mere animal. All of them ate hungrily, including the shimmerling, who pronounced Severus a most gracious host, and afterwards yawned and groomed herself gently before saying she wished to take another nap. :Sleep is the best healer, no offense, Wizard Snape.:

"You are quite correct," agreed the Potions Master, and assisted the small fairy cat back to the cushion, where she curled into a ball and fell asleep.

Severus was hoping that the shimmerling might be able to help Harry rid himself of the nightmares for good and all, but decided not to mention it to his son just yet, in case Smidgen said there was nothing she could do, he didn't want to raise the boy's hopes for nothing.

He made sure that the boys were doing their assigned tasks for the morning, then retreated to the library to read up some more on shimmerlings, specifically dreamweavers, and perhaps figure out if there was anything else he could be doing to alleviate Harry's anxiety. Harry had not had a nightmare in two weeks, not since Severus had been dosing him with Dreamless Sleep, but Severus feared one was due since he'd gradually reduced Harry's dosage over the past week.

If the fae cat could do anything to reduce the level of anxiety and suffering Harry experienced, Severus would consider the lifedebt paid in full, for nothing meant more to him than the wellbeing of his son. Though he had been careful not to show it, the nightmares and anxiety attacks had frightened him badly, and he had feared for Harry's emotional stability, for such things suggested a deeply scarred psyche. Of course, anyone would bear scars after enduring the abuse Harry had with the Dursleys and after facing Voldemort three times, no one knew better how the touch of that one's mind left wounds upon the spirit than the former spy. Severus bore his own share of scars and haunting memories, but he was better able to cope with them than his fourteen-year-old son, having learned ways to deal with the guilt and shame using meditation, and having found a mentor of sorts in Sarai, who had gradually become much more than his teacher in kin-sa-dor, and was one of the few living relatives he trusted to delve into his soul and not be shocked or horrified by the awful truths he hid there.

He had almost sent her a request to visit him, and see if perhaps she could help Harry deal with his demons, but had changed his mind at the last minute. Sarai was not one to come at anyone's beck and call, she wandered frequently, she served her family as a bodyguard and was often away in the service of one or the other young lords and ladies. Sarai had a reputation even among her fae kindred of being one of the deadliest fighters, her word was her bond, and she was fiercely loyal to her family and took her duties very seriously. Severus knew she would have come to the manor before now had not other obligations kept her away, she usually paid him at least one visit during the summer. That being so, he had not wanted to impose, and had resolved to help Harry some other way.

It seemed that Fortune or God or whatever had finally stepped in and decided to give the worried Potions Master a hand in the form of a dreamweaver shimmerling. Severus just prayed Smidgen could vanquish Harry's night terrors for good and all. And if the fairy cat could succeed with his son, perhaps she could help Severus as well, for he too was plagued with recurring dreams of the Death Eaters and the horrors they had perpetrated upon innocent Muggles and Muggleborns. But first, he would let her work on Harry, the Potions Master decided, going to the section on fae creatures and searching among the titles for a volume on shimmerlings.

* * * * * *

Smidgen awoke and shook her head cautiously, it still felt a bit fuzzy due to the pain reliever the wizard had given her. Though Severus had been careful with his dosages, some ingredients in the pain reliever had reacted with the shimmerling's physiology and made the small fae cat slightly dizzy and sleepy for a time. Still, Smidgen was grateful for Severus's care, and thus did not mind the side-effects of the potion. She was still stiff and her wings ached, but that was to be expected. One didn't recover from a lurk's attack overnight, and it had almost killed her, so she was lucky to still be breathing. A little pain was a small price to pay for her life. She nibbled the bandages loose on her side and stepped free of them.

She carefully began to groom herself, tenderly licking the almost healed wounds in her shoulder, side, and abdomen. Her tongue had the added benefit of disinfecting wounds along with getting her fur clean, so she licked the nearly healed wounds several times before she was satisfied they would not become infected, and moved on to grooming her tail and feet.

Once she was satisfied that her fur was clean and smooth, she rose from her cushion and padded to the end of the couch, debating whether or not to jump down and go in search of the other occupants of the manor. It wouldn't take her long to find them, she merely had to let down her mindshields a little and she could hear their thoughts and they would lead her right to wherever they happened to be.

But the trick was getting onto the ground without jarring her healing wings or other mending injuries. Normally a leap of only four feet or so would be nothing to her, shimmerlings were naturally agile and could fly great distances, but injured as she was . . .Smidgen cocked her head, trying to figure out if there were a way down that did not involve jumping. She examined her claws, which had been cracked from trying to fend off the lurk, but they were still sharp.

Well, if one cannot fly, one may still climb, Smidgen thought, and she dug her claws experimentally into the sofa. The material was not too tough for her claws to penetrate, and once she was sure of a good grip, she began to make her way slowly headfirst down the sofa to the floor of the den.

It took her a good three and a half minutes, but her paws touched the ground at last and she paused before "listening" with her mind and heading off towards the potions lab, where Severus was brewing some Memory-Enhancing Drafts with the assistance of both Harry and Draco.

It would have taken her mere seconds to get there with her wings or by blinking, which was a limited form of teleportation, but her wings were injured and she was too weak to blink anywhere. So she had to travel down to the potions lab the ordinary way, on her own four paws.

It took forever, at least it seemed that way to a creature accustomed to traveling places in the blink of an eye. Her wings were dead weight against her back and she felt as if they weighed ten pounds, and her shoulder ached something fierce. But she continued on down the corridor, inch by inch, until she was outside the door to the potions lab.

Her keen nose caught the acrid scent of herbs stewing and the tang of something citrus and something else smoky. She could also hear Severus instructing his two apprentices, telling them when to add an ingredient and how many stirs to give the mixture brewing and so forth. She felt strangely comforted by the master wizard's voice, his mental signature was not sharp like most humans were, but a muted greenish-gold, he was a master of the ancient disciplines, then. Here was one to respect, even if she had not owed him a lifedebt.

She waited till he had done instructing his students before sending an urgent request to him to open the door and let her in.

In a few moments, the door swung open, granting her egress. She padded into the room, a bit overwhelmed by how large everything was to a fae creature only three inches high and seven inches long. The Potions Master knelt beside her then, and said, "Good afternoon, Lady Smidgen. I trust you slept well?"

:I did indeed, master wizard. However, I do have a few pressing problems that need to be addressed. The first one being, where can I relieve myself?:

"Oh. Yes, I see. How thoughtless of me." Severus said, embarrassment coloring his tone. He snapped his fingers and a hooded cat box appeared under the lab table. "Er . . .will that do?"

:That will do nicely, thank you!: Smidgen mewed in relief, and trotted over to it.

A few minutes later, she emerged, feeling much better, and walked over to where Severus was kneeling and hopped into his outstretched palm. He carried her gently to the top of the lab table, and placed a cloth over it, so she would not suffer any burns from the stainless steel table.

She stepped onto the cloth and shuddered involuntarily, the steel playing merry hell with her senses for a moment. :Lord Bright and Lady Shadow! How can you humans bear the touch of that accursed metal I will never know. It makes my skin curl just being around it.:

"I apologize, I know my lab is not the ideal place for you. Was there something else you needed? I'm almost finished in here and then the boys were going to make a light supper."

:Good. I was hoping to get another bite to eat. I'm feeling ravenous. No doubt because my healing factor is working very hard to mend the damage that misbegotten lurk caused.: Smidgen hissed, her tail flicking angrily when she recalled being helpless in the lurk's jaws. :Once I have eaten, I shall need to speak with Harry and gain his permission for me to enter his dreams. Only then will I be able to see whether or not it is possible for me to help him with his nightmares.:

"Understandable," Severus said, in a voice too low for the boys to hear. His research on Smidgen's kind had told him that shimmerlings were among the more gregarious and friendly fae creatures, they did not mind interacting with humans and were often willing to help them for a small price, especially children. "I hope you may be able to help him, Smidgen, for he should not have to suffer these damnable dreams on top of everything else he has endured."

:Everything else he has endured? Your son has been mistreated?:

"Yes, though not by me. Harry did not always live with me, for most of his life he lived with . . . with Muggle relatives who despised him and treated him like a wretched servant. He has only recently learned of his heritage and that I am his father, there is much anguish in his past."

:Ah. That is too bad, Wizard Severus. Children should be cherished and loved. We fae always treat our offspring with love and affection, we would never dream of harming a child deliberately, perhaps because so few children are born to us. Therefore, every child is precious, and none are mistreated the way I see Harry has been in your memories. It is no wonder he has night terrors.:

Severus nodded grimly, then turned back to his two sons, making sure they were working and not loafing around. Both were stirring their Memory-Restoring Drafts counterclockwise for ten minutes, the final stage of the brewing process.

"Well done, boys. Now finish decanting it and then scrub out your cauldrons. Draco, I believe it's your turn to make supper tonight."

The blond-haired apprentice groaned softly. "Yes, Uncle Sev. Do you mind if we have soup and sandwiches? I don't trust myself to cook anything really complicated yet."

"That sounds great," Harry chimed in, for he too didn't trust Draco to cook anything involving more than two or three simple instructions. While the Slytherin was getting better, he still had a long way to go before he could cook anything more complicated than toast and grilled cheese or fry up some sausage.

"You know my rule, Draco. When it's your turn to cook, you get to choose the menu." Severus reminded his ward.

Draco sighed in relief and returned to bottling his potion.

* * * * * * *

After supper, Smidgen approached Harry and asked if she might speak with him. :I don't know if your father has told you this, but I am a dreamweaver, which means I am skilled in interpreting and walking dreams, enabling the dreamer to face his or her innermost fears without harm. Your father tells me you suffer from recurring nightmares.:

"Yes, I do. But I haven't had one for weeks now, not since I've been taking the Dreamless Sleep my dad's brewed for me." Harry admitted, wishing Severus had never brought that up. Great, Dad! Now she's gonna think I'm some kind of head case.

Smidgen blinked, then came forward to rub her head beneath harry's hand, purring soothingly. :Forgive me, young wizard, but I could not help overhearing your thoughts just now, they were rather ‘loud' for one of my sensitivity. The Dreamless Sleep your father has been giving you cannot be taken indefinitely, it's too dangerous, you could become addicted to it if you don't quit taking it soon. Your father is very concerned for your welfare, that is why he mentioned the nightmares to me, because he thought I might be able to help rid you of them. I also do not think you are a ‘head case" as you put it, simply a young boy with a problem I can help with, if you'll permit me.:

Harry blushed fiercely. "I . . .I'm not really mad at Dad for telling you, Smidgen. It's just . . .when you start mentioning nightmares to most people, they look at you like you were bleeding cracked and whisper that you belong in a nut house."

:Humans! Is that your answer to everything, locking people away?: Smidgen shook her head in disgust. :Ah, Lady grant me patience. Harry, I would never treat you that way, you are the holder of my lifedebt and as such I am bound to perform a service for you that will save your life. If I can help you, I will. But first, you must trust me enough to allow me entrance into your mind, and thence into your dreams.:

Harry hesitated. Just the mere thought of anyone prying into his mind made him uneasy. Even though Smidgen was an animal and not a human, it still made him uncomfortable.

The shimmerling sensed this and said soothingly, :Harry, you need not decide tonight. You may go and think it through, I do not require an answer immediately.:

Harry felt relieved by that and told her he would go and think about it. The shimmerling's offer was tempting indeed, but could he permit the fae cat to roam about in his mind? He went to bed still pondering his dilemma, and as a result couldn't sleep and tossed and turned restlessly, until Draco snapped irritably, "For the love of Merlin, Harry, what's the matter with you tonight? Are you sick?"

"No. Sorry, am I keeping you up?" he apologized.

Draco just rolled his eyes. "As a matter of fact, you are. What's going on?"

Harry hesitated a long moment before at last confiding in Draco about the shimmerling's offer. "And I . . .I'm not sure what to do, I mean I want to get rid of my nightmares, but I don't know if I want her poking about in my head."

"Hmmm." Draco raised himself up on an elbow and gazed over at Harry in the bed opposite, looking thoughtful. "I can see where you're coming from. But Harry, if it were me, I'd want to do whatever I had to get rid of those damn nightmares. That last one you had . . .hell, Snape, I thought you were dying, the way you carried on. I'd never want to go through that again. If the shimmerling says she can help you, then let her, Harry. It's worth it."

Harry considered, chewing his lower lip nervously. What Draco said made a lot of sense . . .too much sense. He hated having the same dreams over and over, and waking up crying like a baby over what he'd seen and done in them. He hated how they made him feel-lost and alone and terrified so badly he ended up getting sick to his stomach. Part of the reason he dreaded going back to school was the fear that he might have a nightmare in the dorm and then everyone would know the Boy Who Lived had nightmares and cried and whimpered over them like a five-year-old. He had considered asking Severus for a stock of Dreamless Sleep potion to keep in his room, but given what the shimmerling had told him about the potion being addictive if taken too long . . .no, there had to be another way, and Harry didn't want to go to a therapist either.

Well, Snape, you've got two choices. One, deal with the nightmares on your own and hope like hell you don't embarrass yourself past bearing one night, or two, let Smidgen into your head and see if she can help you.

Just recalling the way the last nightmare had affected him made him cringe. Draco was right, there was no way he wanted to have another nightmare like that one. So what if Smidgen needed to go into his mind in order to help him? There were worse things, right? And at least the shimmerling had asked permission, he reminded himself. She could have simply entered his mind and he would have never known it.

Draco was sitting up in his bed, eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Hey? Have you decided, or are you just going to sit and stare at the wall all night?"

Harry craned his head about to give Draco a mild glare, reminiscent of his father. "So sorry, Your Highness, but this isn't like deciding what I want to eat for breakfast, you know. I bet you wouldn't find it easy either, if you were in my place."

Draco blinked, startled by the bite in the other's tone. At length, he said, apologetically, "You're right. Sometimes I'm an idiot. But please, Harry, try and decide tonight or sleep on it, because I can't afford to oversleep tomorrow morning, or else Uncle Sev will have my hide." The other shuddered as he recalled Snape's threat of waking him if he overslept again with a Snape Special.

Before Harry could say anything else, he was rendered speechless by the fact that Draco had actually apologized to him without being prompted by an adult, his foster brother had turned and buried his head in his pillow. Harry heaved a long sigh. Then he said quietly to Draco, whom he was almost sure was still awake, "Okay. I'll let Smidgen work her magic on me. Anything's better than being tormented by nightmares."

Draco sat up and applauded. "Merlin help you, Snape! Glad you finally took a Slytherin's advice, for once. Now, for the love of all that's holy, d'you mind shutting out the light so we can get some sleep before Uncle Sev wakes us up at the crack of dawn?"

"Sure, Draco. Don't get your shorts in a knot," teased Harry, and then he waved his wand and noxed the lamp.

Harry found Smidgen curled up on the window ledge overlooking the garden in the kitchen. The window was over the sink, so you could see an interesting view while you scrubbed the dishes, Harry thought with a wry grin. Ironically, the view of the herb garden and the orchard sometimes made him linger over that particular chore, especially when he had been stuck inside all day doing chores.

The ebony shimmerling was stretched out on the small window sill, basking serenely in the morning sunshine. The sun's rays striking Smidgen's wings caused them to shimmer iridescently in beautiful violet and turquoise patterns, hence the name of her kind. Even the midnight fur glistened with small iridescent specks, and Harry gazed at her admiringly.

Beyond her he spotted Severus outside, watering the garden using a Watering Charm, crystal clear water poured in a steady stream from the tip of his wand as he carefully wet the soil around all the herbs. For this chore, the Potions Master was dressed very casually, in a pair of faded pants and a short sleeved shirt wearing old scuffed shoes that nearly reminded Harry of a pair of garden shoes. Then he squinted hard, coming closer to the window, and saw that they were a pair of garden shoes, black rubber ones designed to leave almost no marks in fresh soil and able to get wet and not become damaged.

Only you, Dad, would be up at six-thirty during the summer to water your herb garden, his son thought, shaking his head. Don't you know the meaning of the word holiday? Apparently not, since Harry had come to the manor, he had never known the man to sleep late, he was always awake before either of his sons, despite going to bed later. Then again, he supposed Severus's industriousness regarding the garden made sense, since most of the herbs growing in it were used in potions, and this time of the morning was cool, and not boiling hot the way it was in the afternoon.

"Okay, I guess. I . . .uh . . .did some thinking last night, Smidgen, and I . . .umm . . .decided that I want you to try and help me. I'm sick of being afraid to go to sleep at night unless I take a potion. I want to be free of these damn dreams."

:Understandable. From what your father told me, your dreams are causing you a great deal of stress and anxiety and making you ill as a result.:

Harry felt himself blush a brilliant scarlet. "Uh, yeah. I get these anxiety attacks after them and I can't breathe right and I usually end up puking all over once I get my breath back. Dad says it's stress related."

:Mmm . . .that's part of the problem. Your humors are out of balance, young wizard.: She padded lightly across the counter and jumped onto Harry's arm then walked up it to his shoulder and sat down, wrapping her tail neatly about her paws. :Why don't we find a place to relax and then I must ask you to please describe these dreams that are making you so ill.:

"All right." Harry considered, wondering what place was the most private and comfortable and was not his bedroom or the den. At last he chose the library, it had a very comfy couch in it that he had fallen asleep on more than once while reading a book.

He headed down the west wing to the library, Smidgen perched upon his shoulder like an odd sort of angel. He entered the library, which lit immediately with a soft Lumos spell upon his entrance, and settled down on the comfy blue suede couch in the corner. "Uh, this is one of my favorite spots to relax," he told the shimmerling, who hopped off his shoulder and came to sit upon his chest, her violet eyes peering directly into his own.

:I can see that in your mind, child. Forgive me, but your mind is very open and it is hard for a sensitive such as myself to block out all the images you're sending to me. I'm surprised your father hasn't taught you how to shield.:

"Uh . . .he's going to, but he's been busy making potions and hasn't had time." Harry explained. Then he asked, not beating around the bush, "What do you want to know about my nightmares?"

Harry paused for a long minute or two then began, haltingly, to tell the shimmerling of his reoccurring nightmares. The fae cat listened intently, picking up more than he knew from his mind, for his words were accompanied by a ceaseless flow of images as he recalled the terror that stalked him. It took him the better part of an hour to tell the whole saga of dreams and his reactions to them, from the Dursleys to the disastrous night he had drunk summerdew and to the final episode, where he had ended up sobbing hysterically in his father's arms for what had seemed like forever.

When Harry had finished, the shimmerling was quiet for a long time, considering how best to resolve the problem the apprentice wizard presented. At last she spoke. :From the images revealed in that last dream, it would appear that you have certain issues in your past that need to be resolved, young Harry. Thus I must enter your mind and walk you back to the first time you ever had this dementor dream, and then follow the thread back to a past event, for the dream you are experiencing over and over has its roots in a past memory, one that your mind is attempting to hide from.:

"A past memory? Like what?"

:It can be many things, that is one thing which I intend to discover. From what you have said, the fear caused by this dream probably has its origins in many memories, not just one. In order for you to overcome this nightmare for good, you must walk with me back into those memories and confront the thing you fear most in all of them. It may take several sessions, young wizard, I don't wish to overwhelm you, and sometimes slow and stealthy is better than rushing about like a kitten on her first hunt. Only by understanding the fears of the past will you understand the fears of the present.:

Harry nodded. "How long would a session take, Smidgen?"

:I cannot answer that accurately, it depends on the individual memory. But I would say no longer than two hours and no less that twenty minutes.:

"Oh. Then I won't have time for one before breakfast."

:No, and I wouldn't suggest you begin a session on an empty stomach either. It's not healthy. So go and eat and then return here if your father permits it afterwards. I will be waiting.: Then she stretched out on the arm of the couch, reminding Harry of the Sphinx, all wisdom and mystery and ancient magic.

So Harry went to eat breakfast with his father and Draco, whom he was slowly starting to think of as his brother-a very annoying pain-in-the-arse one that sometimes he longed to pop in the teeth-but a family member, nonetheless. It was an odd sensation, having a family around him that actually cared-at least Severus cared, and he thought Draco was beginning to-about him. It was a relief to know that there was someone looking out for him, that he didn't have to be afraid of, or that he could go to for advice, and who supported him. It was what he had always dreamed of, back in the days when he was locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, a family he could love and who loved him in return. For he was growing to love Severus. Draco . . .did he love Draco as a brother? Well, not quite, but it was getting there.

After breakfast, Harry informed Severus that Smidgen was going to try and help him overcome his nightmares and he needed to go with her and begin a session with her that morning. "Very well, Harry. Go and let Smidgen read you or whatever she calls it." Severus agreed, relieved that his son had agreed to getting help for his problem.

Of course, Draco started to protest indignantly about being left to do all the chores by himself, until Harry promised he would do double chores tomorrow to make up for it, and Draco stopped grumbling and agreed reluctantly.

Harry obeyed, looking Smidgen directly in the eyes and feeling a strange sleepy lassitude sweep over him. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, they wanted to close badly. He continued to breathe, in and out, like he would do for meditation, centering himself.

:Don't fight me, child. Go to sleep, Harry Albus Snape.: the shimmerling urged soundlessly. :Fear not, nothing shall harm you as long as I am with you, a dreamweaver rules in the Realm of Sleep. I have done this before, thousands of times, I am no novice, little one, I have been a full dreamweaver for five centuries, give or take a decade. Now close your eyes and let sleep surround you.:

Harry obeyed, there was no way he could have refused the shimmerling's soothing presence, and he really was tired, he needed to rest. He fell asleep soon after she had stopped speaking, and Smidgen purred in satisfaction and sent her conscious self forward, slipping into the boy wizard's mind as easily as a mermaid through the waves.

The dreamweaver stood in the middle of a manicured lawn, in front of a house with a white picket fence and an owl on the mailbox. She glanced curiously about her, this was one of the constructs Harry's mind had brought him to, she knew this was a kind of neutral ground.

But she needed to call up the nightmare he had been having, so she could walk through it and see if there was any way to remove it entirely from Harry's mind. She hissed softly and began summoning in her own language, that of the Seelie Court, one that had long been forgotten by humans.

The nightmare oozed towards her, drawn from the realm of Harry's subconscious, like a deep boil it spread through his psyche in response to her call. The amorphus black blob suddenly cracked open and Smidgen was able to use her dreamweaver talent to slip inside the nightmare.

The shimmerling's paws were standing on a cold patch of ground, it was pitch black and fog was rolling in, and then she felt and saw Harry appear, wand in hand, running about the lake. On the far side was a limp form of another wizard, someone Harry cared for very much. But he failed to reach the other man-instead he was surrounded by dementors and they all swarmed and attacked him.

She could feel Harry's panic, it crashed against her shields like a wave of pure force, but she was no mere novice, and she blocked the terror and came to stand before him and his tormentors. She seemed to swell and glow, growing in an instant to twenty times her size, for in the Realm of Dreams she could become larger or smaller as she willed. :Halt!: she hissed in warning, and the clot of dementors froze. :Who are you that you dare to trouble one under MY protection?:

Four dark figures glided forward, until they stood in a semi-circle around her and Harry. One by one, they cast off their hoods, revealing the four faces of those Harry feared the most-Voldemort, Vernon, James, and Dudley. She sensed that the fear was mingled with shame and guilt, with the guilt and shame primarily reserved for the last two figures and the fear was greatest for the first two.

The one with the visage of a twisted half-man and half-serpent spoke first. "Who are you who dares come between me and my lawful prey?"

Smidgen arched her back and laid her ears flat, hissing in fury. :You have no lawful prey here, for you exist only upon a whim, created by fear and loathing and given form here. I am the dreamweaver, and I shall banish you back to the ether from whence you came, when it is time. Until then, be still! You rule nothing here, Dark One, here is MY realm!:

"You LIE!" screamed the Voldemort dementor. "I am the Dark Lord, and all shall tremble when they hear my name! I am come back from the dead to finish what I began, and kill the child who defied me that night. Now step aside, cat thing, before I teach you the meaning of death!" he pointed his wand at Smidgen's heart.

Harry cried out, yelling at the Voldemort dementor, "No! Leave her alone! No more shall die for me! No more!"

:As I said before, you do not rule here. I shall deal with you anon. For now, let us see where the thread of memory for this one takes us.: She stalked back over to where the Dudley dementor waited, caught like a fly in amber by her will.

:Harry!: she called. :Come, they cannot hurt you. Follow me, as I trace this thread of memory back and see what is it that haunts you so, child. Come.:

Harry hesitated, then climbed to his feet. He walked towards Smidgen, who purred comfortingly at him and waited until he had reached her side and placed a hand upon her shoulder, she was now almost as tall as he was, before reaching out and tweaking the silver strand of memory that was attached to the Dudley construct and following it back into Harry's subconscious.

One instant they were standing within the circle of frozen dementors and the next they were back on number 4 Privet Drive, in the front yard, where a six-year-old Harry was watering the flowerbeds while Dudley laughed and pushed him into the wet dirt, making Harry get covered in mud.

"Haha! Harry's all wet and muddy! Harry's all wet and muddy! You're gonna be in trouble when my mum or daddy sees you! Just wait! Dad's gonna tan your hide again, you four-eyed freak!"

Harry picked himself up from the soggy ground, trying unsuccessfully to brush the mud off himself. "Why'd you do that, Dudley? I didn't do anything to you!"

The plump boy shrugged. "Felt like it. There's nothing to do around here."

"So? Why don't you go and play your new video game system?" Harry suggested.

"Oh." Harry's face fell, for he hadn't had a turn at all, not even once. "Can-can I have a turn, Dudley?"

"No! Daddy says freaks like you aren't allowed near expensive toys like that. You might break them or cause them to blow up."

"I won't! I promise."

"No! It's my video game system and I get to say who plays with it! And you can't!" Dudley said meanly, smirking.

"But why?"

"Cause you're a freaky creepy brat and you shouldn't even be in this family, that's why!"

"I am NOT!" Harry shouted, feeling his throat go hot with tears.

"Are TOO! Daddy says so, and he knows everything! He said you're nothing but a charity case and you ought to be grateful you've got a roof over your head and food."

Harry glared at his cousin. "Oh yeah? Grateful to be living in a cupboard, eating scraps from the table? What kind of life is that?"

"It's what you deserve!" Then Dudley knocked him back into the flowerbed and ran into the house, yelling that Harry had smashed all of Petunia's prizewinning hydrangeas flat.

"You see?" the older Harry said softly. "They never wanted me. I was the freak, the charity case, they never loved me, only Dudley."

More memories followed, as the shimmerling touched the skein of threads spinning off from that one, and saw Dudley's third birthday party, where he and all his friends got to play party games and stuff themselves with cake and ice cream while Harry was locked in his cupboard, only able to hear the laughter and fun through the tiny door, and afterwards was let out to clean up the huge mess the kids had made and given only a crust of stale bread and water for supper. . . .Then there was the Christmas Harry had told Draco about, where Dudley got fifty-five presents and all Harry got was a switch . . .Dudley and his friends chasing Harry through the park, playing Harry Hunting. "Run away, little freak! Run, before we smash you!" . . .Dudley screaming as the glass on the python's cage vanished and he fell inside the habitat . . .Dudley shaking and squealing as Hagrid gave him a pig's tail, and Harry giggling behind his hand . . .Dudley getting his ear grabbed good and hard by Severus and made to apologize to his mother . . .and last Dudley glaring at Harry with accusing eyes and yelling, "It's all YOUR fault, you're the reason they killed my dad!"

:Stop!: Smidgen meowed and the hateful image froze. She turned to Harry. :Child, this memory is false. It never happened. But your subconscious created it because of the guilt you felt over your uncle's death. Why would you feel guilty over that evil one's death, Harry? He did much to hurt you, a defenseless child under his care. You were not even there when he died. So why should you bear any guilt towards his demise?:

"Because . . .Death Eaters killed him . . .they never would have done it if it weren't for me . . .they were looking for me and they found him instead." Harry explained haltingly. "I'm not really sorry the fat bastard's dead, only sorry that Dudley's without a father now."

:Oh? And why would you feel sympathy towards the boy who bullied and tormented you for half your life?:

Harry considered. Why did he feel sorry for Dudley? He pondered for a long time then finally said, "Because even my cousin, rotten spoiled brat that he is, doesn't deserve to be without a father, like I was until . . ."

:You have a compassionate heart, young Snape. It is both blessing and curse, I'm afraid. Listen to me now. Your uncle's death was upon his own head, you were not responsible for it. Was it your choice to kill him? Was it you who held the wand that cursed him to death?:

"No. But . . ."

:No, it was not. Why then do you feel guilt? It serves no purpose. Does your cousin feel guilty that you lived for half your life thinking you were an orphan with relatives who hated you?:

"I . . .I guess not."

:Then neither should you, child. The one who bears the responsibility and guilt for your uncle's death is the wizard holding the wand. Not you, Harry.: the shimmerling said firmly. :Dudley lost his father through a premeditated act of vengeance, not through any doing of yours. That is what you must acknowledge. That is what you must accept. You are not responsible for the choices others make, only your own. You have no reason to feel guilty. Do you understand?:

"I . . .yes . . ."

:You doubt me still. You may sympathize all you like with your cousin, but do not place the burden of guilt upon yourself. It was NOT your fault.: the dreamweaver intoned, then spun out a thread of her own. :See what was, Harry Snape. Look through my eyes at the past and see the truth.:

Then she created a quick facsimile of what the attack on Vernon must have looked like, allowing Harry to see with his own eyes the curse that struck down his uncle, cast by a wizard wearing an iron mask. :He is the guilty one, it is he who has spilled blood, not you. Now let your guilt go. Let it go.:

Harry heaved a sigh. "Okay. I-I will."

:Good. The guilt is no longer smothering you. But something else your cousin has said has hurt you deeply. Care to guess what that is?:

"That I'm a freak?"

Smidgen shook her head. :What did you long for most, then and now?:

"I . . . a family."

:And your cousin made you think you didn't deserve one. But he lied, Harry. Like most jealous children. You deserve what all little children do-love, shelter, and a family of your own. You are not unworthy. You have many who love you, child.:

Harry gazed once more into the shimmerling's violet eyes. This time he saw familiar faces-Lily, Severus, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Hagrid, Remus, even Draco and Aunt Petunia were there. And all of them were looking at him with love. :Do you see? If you were unworthy, child, why would they love you? For they do, Harry. They are your family, the family you have always wanted. And so long as you love them, you will never lose them. Do you love them?:

"Yes . . .I do . . .even . . .even Aunt Petunia," he managed at last, and discovered it was true. "Even Draco, arrogant brat that he is."

Smidgen's eyes gleamed in approval. :That is well. For love will sustain you when things are at their darkest pass. Let the love you feel fill your soul, young one. Can you feel it?:

Harry nodded, for he did feel a tremendous outpouring of love flowing from all those he had seen in the shimmerling's mind. The feeling wrapped about him, coccooning him in a cloak of warmth and light, chasing away the shadows and despair. He was loved. He was not alone. These were his family, and they loved him best.

:Turn then and face your cousin,: ordered Smidgen.

Harry turned around, and found himself back inside the circle of shadowy dementors, facing the Dudley one. Smidgen hissed and the Dudley dementor was freed from her control.

It advanced on Harry, waving its arms and shouting, "It's your fault he's dead, Harry! You killed my father!"

But this time, Harry did not back down. This time he stood his ground, the shimmerling beside him, and said firmly, "No. You're wrong. Your father died, but it was not my fault. Blame the wizard with the wand, not me."

Then he lunged at his cousin and knocked him sprawling . . .right into a very large puddle of mud and manure. The bigger boy floundered, coughing and sputtering, squirming and flopping like a fish in the smelly muck, unable to get out.

Dudley looked up at him in astonishment. "Huh? How?"

"Now we're even, Big D." Harry told it, then watched it vanish into the mist.

And for the first time since he had learned of his uncle's death, Harry felt the mountain of guilt he bore crumble and disappear. He was free at last.

The shimmerling blinked across the thread that led back to Harry's conscious self, waking him from his self-induced trance.

* * * * * *

Smidgen shook herself and eyed him. :You need a bite to eat and a bath and a good night's sleep.:

Harry nodded blearily. "Why do I feel so tired, Smidgen? All I did was go places in my mind with you."

:All, young one? Traveling the Realm of Dreams is not easy, especially since this was your first time. Facing the reality of your past and the truth of the present is even harder. But you did well. You vanquished your guilt. Now the hole in your heart can begin to mend. Remember what I told you, Harry Snape. You have family now, by blood and by choice, and they love you. So long as you love them, you will never lose them. Know this for truth, for I cannot lie. All shimmerlings are under geas to speak only the truth, as the Queen's messengers.:

Harry felt a warm glow inside of him at the fae cat's words. And in spite of his exhaustion he smiled, a smile of gratitude and delight, the carefree smile of a child who knows irrevocably and completely that he is loved.

Smidgen jumped to his shoulder, rubbing her fur against him in a gentle caress. :Come, child. Your father and brother are waiting supper on us, I believe. Tomorrow or the next day we shall confront another of your . . .dementors . . .I think you call them? But for now, I am starving and so are you, so let us eat.:

"That sounds like a great idea," Harry said, and his stomach rumbled in agreement.

* * * * * *

That night Harry slept without the aid of the Dreamless Sleep, as per Smidgen's instructions. :He must learn to trust himself, and to fall asleep naturally, Wizard Severus. Fear not, I shall watch over his dreams, and if he begins to experience a nightmare, I shall banish it.: promised the shimmerling.

Severus agreed reluctantly, but the fae cat was as good as her word, remaining watchful and alert all the while Harry slept, monitoring his dreaming state. Only once did the nightmare of the dementors threaten, and then Smidgen slipped into Harry's mind and banished it with a sharp flick of her tail and the power of her presence. She quickly wove a small net of peacefulness about her slumbering charge and then withdrew, satisfied he would sleep soundly until dawn.

* * * * * *

Smidgen waited three days before starting another session, for despite the seeming ease with which she had dealt with the constructs of Harry's nightmare, using her dreamweaving that way had exhausted her more than she wished to admit. She still was not fully recovered from the lurk's attack, and walking the Realm of Dreams and helping the boy confront the darkness in his past was very draining. So she rested and ate for three days, allowing her body to mend and her powers to replenish themselves. At five and a half centuries, she knew how to monitor her own health, and knew also not to be foolish and endanger herself or her charge by pushing herself beyond her own strength.

Then too, she knew that Harry needed some time to come to terms with the revelations he had experienced, and this next session was likely going to be worse than the last one. She had deliberately started with the least of the dementors that were tormenting Harry, knowing he would need time to work up to the Vernon and Voldemort ones. Start slow and work your way up was an old maxim of hers, and in this case, it was also a wise decision.

This time, Smidgen waited until the night to begin the session, allowing Harry some more time with his family before calling him into the library again. The library was the ideal place for such sessions, it was comfortable and neutral territory, and the other two residents of the manor had agreed not to interrupt them until the session was over. She had asked Severus to provide a Calming Draft this time around, figuring that Harry would need it afterwards, since this confrontation would be more stressful than the last.

The Potions Master had raised an eyebrow, but provided what she needed without comment. He also resolved to wait until Harry was finished before going to bed, so he could check on his son and make sure he was all right, and be there to lend an ear if Harry felt like talking. Aware that said session could take several hours, he settled down with a book and began to read in the den.

In the library, Smidgen and Harry were once more ensconced upon the sofa and once more the fae cat told the young apprentice to breathe in and out several times and sent him to sleep with her gaze. Then she set her paws upon the misty road and entered Harry's mind.

* * * * * *

The dementor that had grabbed him threw back its hood, revealing the handsome face of James Potter. "You betrayed me, Harry!" he accused, his face dark with anger and disappointment and an unnatural hunger. "You chose Snape over me! And now you must be punished!"

The James dementor opened his mouth wide, revealing row after row of horrid sharp fangs, but before it could do anything more, Smidgen intervened.

"No? All his life, he thought I was his father. He looked like me, inherited my fortune, hell, he even played the same position in Quidditch. Everything was just fine until the greasy bat of the dungeons showed up and revealed that my boy was actually none other than the spawn of Snivellus Snape!" James sneered. "Skinny, sneaky, sly Snivellus, who always had his hair in his eyes and his nose in a book. Ugh! And once he discovered that, suddenly I wasn't good enough any more. Now I was his cousin, and the snarky git was Dad. He betrayed me, cat! He chose that Slytherin over me!"

:As is his right, James Potter. He needs a living father, not a dead hero. He needs the warmth and love a family, not the chill of the cemetery. Severus gives him all he needs or wants, there is no need for resentment.:

"No need? No need to resent the fact that Snivellus stole my son from me?"

:Indeed, for Harry was never your son. He was and always has been, a Snape.:

Before the man could protest again, Smidgen hissed him into silence, went to Harry, who was still shivering and shaking in the throes of mortal terror, though he had heard every word they had spoken, and urged him to place a hand on her shoulder. :Come, child. Let us follow this thread back, to one of your oldest memories, one that is very dim but there nonetheless.:

Harry gripped Smidgen's fur as if it were a lifeline, and followed the shimmerling back to a memory when he was thirteen months old.

* * * * * *

"Look, Lily! Look at us, we're flying!" shouted James, as he held baby Harry before him on his broom. They were barely seven feet up in the air, but James acted as if it were thirty and Harry was smiling and laughing, holding onto the broomstick.

"He's a natural, Lily! A chip off the old block. Bet he'll be Captain of the Quidditch team once he goes to Hogwarts, eh? Just like your dad, right, Harry?"

They flew in lazy circles, while an indulgent Lily watched from below, until Harry grew bored after fifteen minutes and started whining. "Down, Dada! Down!"

"Okay, Mr. Bossy. Down it is." James landed the broom expertly, picking up Harry and handing him to Lily. "Guess he's had enough for one day. And besides, I think he's wet."

Lily just rolled her eyes. "You know, James, it wouldn't kill you to change a nappy every once in awhile."

"Lil, you know I hate it, I wish they would just invent a spell for it," her husband grumbled. He usually managed to avoid changing his son, foisting the chore off on Lily or some other unsuspecting relative or friend who just happened to be watching his son.

Lily shook her head, disgusted with her husband's attitude. "What, you only get to do the fun stuff, while I get all the work, James Potter?"

"Now, Lil, you're exaggerating."

"Am I? James I can count on both hands the times you've actually changed him without being forced to because you're home alone or badgered into it. You used to cut up the most disgusting potion ingredients at school and yet you can't change a nappy. Unbelievable!"

James flashed her an annoyed look. "So? That was different. Taking care of children's a woman's job. Or a house elf's, except you won't let us have one."

Lily glared at him. "We're in hiding, you stupid . . .You know, James, with your arrogant chauvinist attitude, sometimes I wonder why I married you. Because now I've got two kids to raise!"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? You would have rather married Snape? That greasy scummy git?"

"Severus wasn't a git!" Lily cried. "You're only saying that because of your stupid schoolboy rivalry. He was smart and thoughtful and if I'd . . ." she trailed off.

"What? If you'd what? If you'd married him your life would be perfect?" James sneered. "Yeah, I can just see Snivellus taking care of a baby. You'd be living in some second-rate shack just barely making ends meet."

"You're wrong, James! Severus was a brilliant potion maker, and he would have provided for us decently. You never knew him, his family meant everything to him." Harry, sensing the angry undercurrents, began to whimper uneasily.

"Oh, and it doesn't to me? You think I don't love my son just because I refuse to change a few nappies?"

"James, there's more to being a father than just playing and dressing him," Lily began wearily. "Or buying him the latest toy Snitch. He barely sees you, you're always away, fighting the bloody Death Eaters or bloody You-Know-Who!"

"Well, excuse me for doing my job, Lily! Sorry I'm not a deadbeat like your previous fiancee! Who turned out to be pond slime!"

"No! You're wrong. He . . .he might have made mistakes, but Severus wasn't how you think. You never knew him, James."

"We went to school together, Lily. I knew what he was from day one. Scum and I'm glad he's dead. Don't try and defend him to me, because he never did anything good in his life. I gave you a son, what did he ever give you? Nothing but misery!"

Just then, Harry began to cry and Lily turned and walked away, hushing and rocking her son, bitter tears in her eyes. "That's where you're wrong, Potter," she whispered.

Then the scene vanished and Harry and Smidgen were standing once again back within the circle by the lake.

Before Smidgen could move, Harry had marched up to the James dementor and snapped, "You weren't such a brilliant father after all, and I'm through with feeling guilty that I chose to let Severus into my life. I'm HIS son and he loves me, I never betrayed you. Accepting Severus as my dad isn't betrayal, it's the truth. And you know what, James? I'm glad he's my dad. Glad!"

The James dementor gave a sudden howl and vanished and so did a bunch of others, until all that was left facing Harry were two shadows, Vernon and Voldemort.

Harry stepped forward to confront his beastly uncle, but Smidgen barred the way. :Another time, Harry. Come, child. It is time to go back.:

Then a familiar mist swirled about the two and the lakeside vanished.

* * * * * *

This time when Harry returned to the world he found himself with a splitting headache and the urge to suddenly start crying and never stop. He couldn't understand it, he had been angry when he had left James in the dreamscape, yet now he felt sorrow, sorrow and regret for what could have been, he realized. Sorrow that Severus had missed out on much of his early childhood and regret for putting James on a pedestal and imagining him into this perfect hero, when he was just a man. A flawed mortal, like the rest of them. So he need no longer feel guilty about accepting Severus as his father, he had not taken anything away from James.

He put his head in his hands, trying to ease the throbbing and stifle the sudden tears that prickled his eyes.

:Harry, drink this.: he heard Smidgen's voice, through a hazy humming in the back of his head. :It's a Calming Draft, your father left it for you. Drink, it will help.:

Harry lifted his head, locating the glass beaker with the familiar fizzy potion and sipping it. Immediately he felt the throbbing headache recede and the sudden need to cry was muted. "Thank you, Smidgen," he murmured wearily. He also felt a kind of drowsy lassitude and he yawned. "Guess I better go to sleep. On second thought, I'm sort of hungry, maybe I'll get a cup of tea and a scone. Would you like some too?"

The shimmerling climbed to his shoulder and together they exited the library and headed towards the kitchen. As they crossed into the den, Harry saw his father reading in his recliner. "Interesting book, Dad?"

Severus set the book down and looked up at his son in concern. "How are you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. The Calming Draft made him feel all pleasant and sleepy, very zen and relaxed, so to speak. "I'm okay. I was just going to make a cup of tea. Do you want some?"

"Yes, thank you." He eyed his son sharply, then said, "I assume you took the Calming Draft I left for you?"

"Uh huh," Harry answered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He pushed his glasses back on his face after and discovered that Smidgen had jumped off his shoulder and onto Severus's recliner in the meantime. Probably wants to brief Dad about how the session went. I think it went okay.

Then he went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea, he chose tropical orange essence this time, it was both soothing and flavorful. He went and got two scones, blueberry ones, from the icebox and put them on two plates, breaking off a corner of his own for the shimmerling and crumbling it in a tiny dish Severus had shrunk to Smidgen's size.

When the tea was done and he had fixed it just the way he and Severus liked it, Smidgen liked it however he fixed it, he poured it in two mugs and Smidgen's mini saucer, then levitated them all into the den. "Your tea, sir, my lady," he said whimsically, pretending he was some snooty butler, like one the Malfoys would have had if they'd been Muggles.

Smidgen walked lightly down the recliner and sniffed appreciatively. :Ah, you are too kind, young Snape. Tropical orange, delightful!: She began to lap the tea delicately.

Harry floated a cup of tea and a scone over to his father, who took it and thanked him. For several minutes there was silence, broken only by the three eating and drinking. But when their stomachs were sated at last, Severus set his tea cup down on the end table and looked at Harry and asked, "Smidgen informed me you faced James tonight. Would you like to discuss anything with me about what he said?"

Harry toyed with the remaining bits of scone upon his plate, crumbling them to bits before he recalled something James had said in his memory to Lily that had puzzled him. "Dad? There is something I wanted to ask you."

"Ask then," encouraged the older wizard.

Harry took a deep breath. "In my memories, James and Mum were having an argument, and your name came up and James said he was glad you were dead."

"That would be typical of him. We never really got along, Harry."

"Yeah, but I was over a year in this memory and weren't you back spying on the Death Eaters by then? So why would James and Mum think you were still dead?"

"Because for them, I was. You see, only Dumbledore knew of my true purpose, only he and Lucius and the Dark Lord ever knew I had ‘come back from the dead" at that time. I wanted the rest of the world to believe I was dead, so I spent much of my time hiding at Malfoy Manor, ostensibly lying low, but in actuality gathering vital information for the Order each time I spoke with Lucius and his dark master. It was while I was there that I allowed Lucius to "persuade" me to take the brand and give myself over fully to the Dark Lord." He rubbed absently at the mark on his arm, which was not visible now. "A month afterwards, Voldemort learned of Trelawney's ability as a Seer and wanted to capture her to see if she could foretell his victory. He sent me to persuade her to come with us, and that was how I ended up learning about the prophecy."

"What prophecy?"

"The prophecy that says a savior will be born to defeat Voldemort once and for all," Severus answered heavily.

Harry just stared. "Is that why Dumbledore thinks I'm a hero?"

"Yes, though he is foolish for thinking so. I put no stock in Seers, they predict wrong as much as right."

"I didn't think Trelawney could predict at all."

"Neither did she. But I guess every Seer predicts true once."

"What happened to her? You didn't . . .uh, kidnap her, right?"

"Of course not! I told Lucius that Dumbledore was guarding her and I couldn't fight him again, but I did offer fragments of the prophecy as a distraction. Dumbledore figured the fragments would be enough to convince them that they didn't need Trelawney and keep them busy trying to figure it out, as well as spare me some of Voldemort's wrath for not completing my assignment."

"Did he . . .hurt you, Dad?" Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. He had a feeling Severus had endured more than he knew in his role as a spy.

Severus did not answer for a long moment. "Not really. The fragments pacified him somewhat." He recalled that the evil wizard had not used the Cruciatus Curse all that long on him, but he refused to tell Harry that. Instead he said, his voice laced with regret, "I never thought Voldemort would act upon them, a partial prophecy is impossible to decipher, but he was mad and he thought it pointed at you and so he went to find you. But his search proved fruitless, since your house was under the Fidelius Charm. Until Pettigrew betrayed your mother and his best friend. Then Voldemort found you and . . .you know what happened then."

Harry nodded. Yes, he knew all too well what had happened that Halloween night. "I wish . . ." he halted then said in a voice so low that Severus barely caught it. " . . .you could have saved her, Dad."

"Harry, that is one of the worst regrets of my life. It was the one time I ever failed to protect someone and I still haven't forgiven myself for it."

:You ought to try, Wizard Severus. Your soul is wounded and hurting from your stubbornness.: Smidgen advised.

Severus shook his head. "My beloved died because I couldn't react in time."

Snape did not respond, and Harry said suddenly, "Mum would have forgiven you, Dad."

Severus gave him a faint smile. "Yes, she would have."

Then Harry did something totally unexpected. He got up from the end of the couch, walked over to his father and hugged him. "I forgive you too," he whispered in the startled Potion Master's ear.

Awkwardly, Severus hugged him back. He wished he could tell Harry thank you, but the words wouldn't come, so he settled for hugging his compassionate son an extra long time before letting him go. How ironic, Sev, he thought wryly as he embraced his child. You stayed here to comfort him after his ordeal and instead he ends up comforting you. Will wonders never cease?

On the back of the recliner, the shimmerling purred in satisfaction. An important lesson had been learned here, and she hoped it would sustain the both of them once they left the safety of the manor for the dangerous World Beyond.

Harry was near to biting his nails in a frenzy when he walked into the library two days later for his next session. Smidgen had told him that this time he would be facing one of his biggest fears, his uncle, Vernon Dursley. Normally, Harry tried to downplay the devastating effect Vernon had had upon his life, but there were times, like now, when he had to admit that even dead, the man still scared him.

For so long during his childhood and early adolescence, Vernon's shadow had loomed over him, more concrete and tangible than even Voldemort's, truth be told. Voldemort was like the bogeyman, he terrified you and he had cost Harry his mother and stepfather, but he was not the monster Harry had to live with day in and day out growing up. That special place had been reserved for Vernon alone, who had delighted in making his freak nephew's life a misery.

Harry would have been content to put off confronting his terror of Vernon Dursley forever, but the wise shimmerling said his fear was best faced and gotten over with. :The longer you hide and tremble like a leafskimmer in your uncle's shadow, child, the longer you will keep having nightmares. I know this is difficult, facing one's fears is never easy, it is almost always something we would avoid, but these fears are poisoning your spirit, Harry, like iron poisons the blood of the fae. You are sick, as I was sick when the lurk attacked me, and in order to help you get well, you must face your fear. Stare it in the face, know it for what it is, and its power is broken. That is a truth all my kind know.:

His breath hitched in his throat as he entered the library, for once the room felt close and dim, and he was not happy to be here. Smidgen awaited him upon the arm of the sofa, her wings had slowly regained their former luster, and she was sitting up alertly, looking like a statue of those ancient Egyptian temple cats, if said cats were black and had butterfly wings.

:You are tense tonight.: she observed calmly, as he sat down on the sofa stiffly. :This session bothers you.:

He raised an eyebrow. "Bothers me? Understatement of the year, dreamweaver. I wish my dad would Obliviate my memories of Uncle vernon from my mind, then we wouldn't have to do this."

Smidgen shook her head in reproof. :You speak of permanently altering one's memories, do you not? Such is forbidden among the fae, an invasion of self and privacy that is tantamount to a rape of the mind. An evil practice and not one which will help you, young Snape.:

"I think it would help me just fine," he grumbled rebelliously.

:Trust me, it would not. Memory wiping leaves a wound upon your spirit that even time cannot heal. It is never a solution to a problem.:

"But Smidgen, Aurors use Memory Charms all the time to make Muggles forget they saw us doing magic or whatever. You're saying they're evil?"

:Harry, sometimes the greatest evil is done unintentionally, by those seeking to do good. I have seen it many times in the World Beyond and in my realm as well. You have too, for did you not tell me your great white wizard, Albus Dumbledore, put you in great danger while saying it was for your own good?:

"Yeah, I guess so. He seemed to think it was important I stay with the Dursleys, even though he knew what my uncle was like. I still don't understand it. I always thought he was my friend, least it seemed like that way, at school. He always . . .well . . .stuck up for me." Harry recalled the flying car incident at the beginning of his second year, when Severus had been so furious he had wanted Harry to be expelled for nearly revealing their world to Muggles and almost dying crashing into the Whomping Willow.

Smidgen cocked her head, picking up on the memory effortlessly, it was very clear and sharp and fairly shouted ‘notice me!' to her telepathic senses. :Your Headmaster, a responsible adult, supported your reckless decision, one that nearly got you and your friend killed, and overrode your father, who wished to teach you a lesson? Does that not strike you as a bit odd?:

"Uh, I didn't know that Severus was my dad back then, Smidgen. Nobody did. So he didn't have the authority to punish me like that."

:No? He was your teacher, your welfare his responsibility. It is the duty of all teachers to make sure no harm comes to those in their care. And to reprimand a student if he endangers himself, which you did. What punishment did you receive for pulling that piece of reckless insanity?:

Harry thought. "Uh . . .I think Ron and I got a detention from McGonagall and Ron's mum sent him a Howler. And that was it."

:That was it? Ai, young one, for doing as you did, were you a member of the Seelie Court, the Queen would have had your hide. For you put not only yourself in danger, but your people. You would have been under reparation geas for months, bound to serve those you wronged, until the Queen declared your debt paid. Did you not understand the seriousness of your actions?:

"Well...yes...I mean we almost got expelled, but we had no choice, we had to get to school, Smidgen!" Harry said defensively.

:Indeed, but was there NO other alternative? You could have told your friend's parents or asked another wizard for help, right? But you chose the forbidden and you nearly paid the consequences for it with your life. Wizard Severus was right to be so furious, and your Headmaster a fool to be so lenient. Or maybe not a fool . . .but one with a hidden agenda. One does not usually endanger the lives of apprentices unless there is reason.:

"Like what?" Harry asked, trying to steer the shimmerling away from the discussion of his poor choice in taking the Weasleys' Ford Anglia. It was in the past and while Harry knew he had been extremely stupid, he hated admitting it, though he was grateful Severus hadn't known he was Harry's father back then. Otherwise there would have been nothing to prevent him from facing the stern wizard's wrath. Harry wagered he would have been over his father's knee in a trice, probably getting walloped with the wooden spoon like Draco. Even though he knew it would have been deserved, the mere thought of being on the receiving end of such a punishment from Snape made him shudder in embarrassment. So he was quick to thank God for small favors.

:I do not know. You wizards are fond of secrets, much like one of the fae lords.: answered the shimmerling. :Now that you are calmer, shall we begin?:

Only then did Harry see that the shimmerling had deliberately delayed the lesson with the discussion on purpose, to give her charge time to relax before going into a trance and facing one of the worst inner demons of all.

He drew in a deep calming breath, trying to center himself, the way he did for meditation. Then he counted slowly to twenty, gazed into Smidgen's violet orbs, and entered the Realm of Dreams to confront the specter that had haunted him for thirteen years.

* * * * * *

* * * * * *

He was seven, and he was supposed to be making breakfast for the family, but Aunt Petunia had forgotten to get more eggs from the store, so they had to eat cold cereal and toast, and Vernon was furious.

"Why didn't you remind your aunt she needed to run to the supermarket, boy?" he bellowed, lifting Harry up and shaking him so hard his teeth chattered.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" he stuttered, lucky he was able to talk at all with the way his uncle was manhandling him.

"Sorry? Oh, now you're sorry, are you?" Vernon said softly. "Well, you're about to be even sorrier, boy!"

Normally, that tone would have made Harry cringe and tremble, knowing what was coming next. But on that day, the sudden injustice of getting blamed for his aunt's oversight sparked a defiant chord within him, and he had cried, "Why should I be blamed for something that isn't my fault, sir? It's no fair! Aunt Petunia does the shopping, not me."

That was all, but it was enough to send Vernon into a frothing temper. He cracked his nephew hard across the cheek, and a red handprint bloomed on the child's cheek like a brand.

"I'll teach you to backtalk me, you disrespectful little bugger!"

"No! Lemme go!"

For the first time ever, and the last, Harry fought against his punishment, struggling and kicking in the big man's grasp.

It was in vain, his slight frame and skinny stick-like arms were no match for the beefy man, and Vernon overpowered him easily, though the effort made him pant like a dog in heat.

In five minutes, Harry found himself bare-bottomed and bent over the kitchen table, Vernon's arm pinning him tightly, while his other hand wielded his monogrammed belt with terrific force.

He tried not to howl, but that too was futile, and soon his cries echoed, bitter and defiant, through the kitchen.

* * * * * *

"Remember, boy? Remember the way you begged me to stop? Please Uncle, no more! I'm sorry, Uncle! I'll never do it again!" mocked Vernon, sneering menacingly. "Shall I give you the same lesson again, nephew? Since you didn't seem to learn it the first time?"

He had woken up because he had heard a crash somewhere and it had frightened him. He stood up in his crib, tiny hands clutching the bars and whimpered. There came an even louder crash and suddenly he began to wail, frightened beyond belief. He wanted his mother, and he wanted her now! "Mum! Mum!" he bawled, trying to scramble up the sides of the crib.

Then he heard his mother's familiar footsteps, and suddenly she was there, lifting him from his crib and hugging him close. "Hush, baby. Mummy's here. Shhh . . .Harry, shhh . . .I haven't much time . . ." She began to chant a spell softly, and her wand glowed with a pearlescent light. She touched the wand to her son's heart, and then her own. The light surrounded them. "In my love, you are sheltered, in my love you are protected, in my love you are safe, from now until eternity, by my blood and power and love, I bind you, Harry Albus Snape!" Then she bent and kissed her son upon the forehead, sealing the ancient spell.

The pearlescent light flowed into Harry and he gasped, though the magic did not hurt, merely left him warm and tingly. Lily sagged against the doorframe, not realizing the ancient spell of Mother's Guardianship would take so much out of her. She had discovered the spell in an ancient book that had once belonged to Eileen Prince, it had been given to her by Severus upon the day of their engagement, he had told her it was a family heirloom passed down from mother to daughter. "But my mother had no daughter, and I think she would have wanted you to have this, Lily. As my wife, you will be a Prince by marriage, and thus entitled to it."

She had been profoundly touched by his kindness, and she had assured him she would treasure it always. And she had, reading it from cover to cover before Harry had been born, absorbing the ancient magic of the Prince fae sorceresses into her soul. The spells in the grimoire were many and varied, but all of them were meant for a woman to use and cast, most of them involving healing or protection, though there were several combat spells there as well. The one she had cast on Harry was one of the most powerful, and it granted him an almost impenetrable protection against the monster that stalked them.

Harry sensed his mother's anxiety and absorbed a portion of her memories as well through the spell, though his baby mind could not comprehend them then, and he promptly shoved them deep into the back of his mind and forgot about them. All he cared about was that she was there with him and he was safe.

Until the door to the bedroom burst open and a tall man with dark hair and eyes that glimmered coldly entered the room. "So! This is where you were hiding, eh, woman? Stupid bitch, do you not realize there is nowhere you could go that I would not find you?"

Lily backed away, Harry clutched protectively to her chest. "Leave us alone, Voldemort! Haven't you spilled enough innocent blood?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "Not nearly enough!" Then his eyes narrowed. "Step aside, woman! Let me have the brat and you shall live. Now step aside!"

"No! Kill me if you must, but leave my baby!" Lily pleaded, setting Harry down and pointing her wand at Voldemort. "Don't you touch my Harry!"

Voldemort's patience evaporated. "Out of my way, woman!" he thundered.

But Lily stood her ground, defying him with the last bit of breath in her body. "No! You'll not have my Harry too!"

"So be it!" Then Voldemort snarled, "Avada Kedavra!" and the green light shot out of his wand and slammed into Lily, killing her instantly.

She crumpled to the ground, her red hair falling about her in a crimson swath.

And Harry looked up into the face of the one who had hurt his mother and screamed bloody murder.

Voldemort sneered. "Cry all you like, whelp, she's never coming back. But don't worry, you'll be joining her in a second, and you'll be one big happy family again . . .in heaven!"

Then he intoned the Killing Curse again.

But this time the spell was repelled, it struck the boy but the fae protection held, and the curse did not kill, only scarred, and then it rebounded upon its caster.

Voldemort saw his doom rushing to meet him, and knew he had only a split second in which to react.

He quickly cast another spell, this one designed to link two wizards together with a special bond called a blood link, and sent a part of himself into the Potter brat's mind, preserving himself indefinitely. Since that spell was not a dark one, the Guardianship spell did not react to it. Then his failed curse rebounded on him, and he died . . .for the first time.

Harry remained where he was, screaming incoherently from the pain in his forehead and the terror of seeing his mother motionless upon the ground, until he had screamed himself hoarse and collapsed in a heap next to the still form, one hand reaching out to clutch her finger.

Some twenty minutes later, Hagrid discovered him and took him from the burning rubble of his home and brought him to the Dursleys as per Dumbledore's instructions. And none of them ever knew that the innocent-looking baby they knew as Harry Potter harbored a bond with a murderer.

* * * * * *

* * * * * *

When Harry opened his eyes, he found he was looking up into a pair of very concerned gray ones. "Draco?" he croaked, not comprehending for a moment why his foster brother would be looking at him with that particular expression on his face. "What's the matter?"

"I should be asking you that question, Harry. I could hear you screaming all the way in our room, and I . . .I had to come to see what was wrong. I know I shouldn't have, I know I promised Smidgen I'd stay away, but . . ." he trailed off awkwardly. "You okay? Or do I need to call Uncle Sev?"

"How come he isn't here?" asked Harry a bit petulantly. His screams had brought Draco but not Severus?

"Because he went into the forest to gather some more potion ingredients, remember? He couldn't hear you, or else I'm sure he would've been here like a bat out of hell, as the Muggles say." Draco reminded him quietly.

Smidgen stirred on Harry's chest, then she too woke. Blinking her large violet eyes, she sat up. :Well, that was not quite what I was expecting. But it is over and done with now. How are you feeling, Harry?:

Harry considered. "Uh . . .I feel like I did when I drank that summerdew. Like my head's gonna fall off any minute." He shut his eyes. "Draco, can you get me a Headache Remedy from Dad's lab? Because if I don't take something in about two minutes, I'm going to puke."

Draco looked alarmed and quickly summoned the requested potion from Snape's stores. He carefully slid an arm about Harry's head and lifted him up just enough so he could swallow the draft without choking. "Okay, Harry?" he tipped the vial gently, and the purplish potion flowed down the Gryffindor's throat in a blessed trickle.

He waited for Harry to swallow before giving him some more, recalling Severus's lessons about administering potions to a person too weak to sit up.

Harry swallowed cautiously, and to his immense relief the Headache Remedy started working immediately, reducing the awful throbbing in his temples to something bearable. He finished the draft and with Draco's help, sat up on the sofa. He flashed the other boy a grateful glance.

"Thanks, Draco."

The other looked away, embarrassed. "For what? You think I want to clean up your vomit, Snape?"

Harry hid a smile. "Now wouldn't that be a sight? The heir of Malfoy Manor, cleaning up puke like a house elf."

"In your dreams," snorted the pureblood. Then he asked softly, "Are you really all right now, Harry? Because if you up and croak on me, I'm going to follow you to heaven and kick your arse for dying and leaving me to face the wrath of Severus Snape all by myself."

Harry chuckled hoarsely, his throat was still a bit dry from screaming. "Don't worry, Malfoy. Even I'm not that cruel." He rubbed his eyes and cleaned his glasses on his shirt tail. "What?" he asked upon catching Draco's eye roll.

"Barbarian. No wonder you can't see straight." He produced a handkerchief from a pocket of his trousers and handed it to Harry.

Harry took it and cleaned his glasses again. "Thanks." He made as if to hand the cloth back, but Draco waved him off.

"Keep it. Now don't say I never gave you anything," smirked the other, his mouth twisting up in a wry grin.

"You're too kind," Harry replied, and stuck the handkerchief in his jeans pocket. "Hey, Smidgen? I'm starving all of a sudden. What d'you say to a bite to eat?"

The shimmerling stretched and yawned. :Yes, I need to replenish myself after the ordeal we went through.:

"Ordeal?"

"I'll explain once Dad gets back," Harry told him. "Right now, I need some food, before I pass out."

"Do that and you can sleep on the floor, because if you think I'm carrying you, Harry . . ."

"Too heavy for you, Draco?"

The Slytherin shook his head. "Nope, too much damn trouble." But then he held out a hand to assist Harry from the sofa. "You gonna walk to the kitchen by yourself, or do I have to hold your hand, little brother?"

Harry bristled. "Who are you calling little, Draco?"

"You, dimwit. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a half a head bigger and three months older than you. Therefore that makes you my little brother."

"Like hell."

"Don't argue facts, Harry," Draco pointed out, smirking. Then he turned and headed for the kitchen, followed by a ravenous and somewhat sulky Harry and an amused shimmerling.

That was where Severus found them upon returning to the manor some twenty minutes later, devouring a huge cold cut sub and an entire bag of corn crisps, plus the remainder of last night's apple pie.

The Potions Master raised an eyebrow, but all he said was, "So, how did this latest session go, Harry?"

"Yeah, start talking," Draco ordered. "Before my curiosity kills me."

Harry cleared his throat. Then he told them everything.

By the time he had finished, it was over an hour later, and as soon as he had ended his tale, Severus insisted he take a Calming Draft and go to bed. Harry protested, but his father was adamant, and in ten minutes, he found himself swallowing a Calming Draft, getting into pajamas, and going to bed.

"Dad, I'm fine," he objected.

"Go to sleep, Harry. After all of that don't even think of telling me you aren't tired." Severus ordered, tucking the covers about him. "Draco, watch him and make sure he stays in bed."

"Yes, sir."

"Suck up," Harry muttered drowsily once Severus had left the room.

"What is wrong with you, Harry? You get permission to sleep all afternoon and you're acting like it's a punishment. Are you sure you're a real teenager?" Draco asked incredulously.

But the only response he got from Harry was a soft snore.

Once he was assured by Draco that Harry was sleeping soundly, Severus breathed easier. It was only eight o'clock, but it felt like much later. After hearing the source of Harry's nightmares, Severus badly needed a drink, but he stubbornly refused to indulge in summerdew when Draco and Harry were present. He did not want to look like a bad role model, and besides, the summerdew tended to either make him fall asleep instantly, or make him recall things in his past that were best left buried. A blood link! Dear sweet Merlin! And none of us, not me, not Albus, ever thought to look. We were so bloody stupid! The scar was right there for the world to see, but the real wound was underneath, raw and open and oozing poison into his mind for all those years. Oh, Harry. How many times now have I failed you?

He retreated to his study, he needed the haven of his books and the comforting smell of parchment and ink, which always seemed to soothe him for some reason. He felt terribly guilty for not questioning his son further about the dreams, for not getting help for him immediately, for being such a temperamental bastard to him during school. All the time I was harping on him for not brewing potions correctly or playing Quidditch, he had a fragment of Voldemort inside him, whispering thoughts of despair and hopelessness. The Potions Master put his head in his hands. How could I have been so blind? I know, better than anyone, what bloody Riddle is capable of. And yet I ignored the signs right under my nose. Stupid, Severus!

But before he could flagellate his already raw and hurting soul even more, he heard a soft voice in his mind. :Wizard Severus? May I come in?:

"Yes, of course, Smidgen." He waved a hand, and the door to his study swung open to admit the shimmerling.

She flew directly to him, he was seated in his very comfortable desk chair, and perched upon his shoulder. :Severus, I could not help but overhear your thoughts a moment ago, your shields were down.: she began, somewhat apologetically.

He flushed. "I apologize. The news my son just told me has . . .has upset me . . ." He shut his eyes, and began to raise his shields so the shimmerling need not be bombarded by his self-recriminations.

:Don't. I did not come here to remind you of that fact, professor. I came because you, like your sons, are in need of my help.: Smidgen stared directly into his dark eyes, and there was no judgement or condemnation in them. :The only question I have is will you allow it?:

"I . . .Harry was the one who needed you most, Smidgen. What you did for him . . .it cancels the lifedebt between us. You did what I could not, what no wizard could have. You made my son whole, when none of us knew he was even wounded so badly. I never even suspected a blood link." His tone was sharp with disgust.

:Was there any reason you should have? Severus, the blood link was well hidden, it took me, a master dreamweaver, four sessions to probe deeply enough to discover it. And I am over five centuries old and have dealt with possession and memory wiping and such before. You should not blame yourself for this.: she chided gently.

"No? Then who shall I blame? I'm his father, damn it all! I should have known, I should have seen. I failed him badly, Smidgen. He's my son, the most important thing in the world to me, and I failed him in the worst way."

:Severus, you are being too hard on yourself. Is this the first time you have ever failed anyone, Potions Master?:

"No. I failed his mother too, and she paid for it with her life."

:You did not. You could not know that she would be betrayed, or that the dark necromancer would come for her that night, of all nights, when you yourself were injured from the Cruciatus Curse. You were a victim as much as Lily and Harry, Severus Snape. That is the truth, and you know I cannot lie.:

Yes, he knew. "Perhaps . . . perhaps it wasn't my fault that Lily died, but what about Harry? I'm supposed to protect him and keep him safe, and look what happened. He was being eaten alive by that . . .that thing and all I was doing was giving him Dreamless Sleep!"

:And are you omniscient now, Wizard Severus? Can you see all and know all, like your Almighty God?: demanded Smidgen sharply. :No one is perfect, you know that, you have told your sons that. So why then do you hold yourself to an impossible standard, and doom yourself to failure?:

"Because if I don't hold myself accountable, who will?"

:That is not holding yourself to account, Severus, it is setting yourself up for failure. Why are you punishing yourself this way, Potions Master? Because of the way you treated Harry over the past three years? Because you once walked part of the way down the lefthand path? Severus, that is foolish. We are all of us light and dark, there are none who walk the realms who are purely one or the other, not fae or human. But we all have a choice, to do good or evil. And you chose to do good.:

"But I don't know if it will ever be enough." Severus admitted heavily. "The sins of the past . . ."

:Are over and done with.: Smidgen stated firmly. :And should remain that way. As for Harry, I helped him as part of the debt owed to me, but also because he needed me, and there is no fae of the Seelie Court who will ever stand by and watch a child in pain and not aid them. And my account with you both is not settled yet.:

"But I don't consider you indebted to me any longer," protested the master wizard faintly.

Severus hesitated a very long time. He was wary of letting anyone access into his mind, having endured some horrific mind probes from Voldemort in the course of his duties as a spy. Voldemort had never been able to penetrate his Occlumency shields, but just having the beast inside his head had made him feel tainted. Still, Smidgen was no Voldemort, and she asked only out of concern, as a friend would, he reminded himself.

You trusted Sarai. Trust this one as well. She is a dreamweaver, under geas to help you, Sev. Let her do what she is bound to do, and be free.

"I . . .all right, Smidgen. You may enter my mind. Though I warn you, you won't like what you will find."

The shimmerling gazed at him, and twitched her whiskers. :I assure you, Wizard Severus, you are not the worst I have faced, though you are one of the most stubborn. Now, take three deep breaths and look into my eyes.:

He obeyed, and allowed the shimmerling's violet gaze to send him to sleep, so that she could probe the shadows of his past, and hopefully help him banish them once and for all.

* * * * * *

Smidgen purred in satisfaction, and then she took the weary Potions Master back and woke him from his trance.

The first thing Severus noticed when he awoke was that he was a bit stiff from sleeping with his head tilted on the back of his chair. But when he straightened, he found Smidgen hovering before him, her iridescent wings beating gently. :How do you feel, Severus?:

"I'm a bit stiff, but otherwise I feel quite well." He answered, somewhat shyly, for it had been a long while since he had allowed another being access into his innermost thoughts and feelings. Not since Sarai had come to him as his kin-sa-dor master and ended up being a friend as well as a mentor.

:And have you put aside your guilt over things that you cannot change, my friend?:

"For now."

The violet eyes glittered with suppressed annoyance. :For now? What does that mean?:

"It means that I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, and agree that perhaps I shouldn't be so hard on myself, as you suggested," he answered honestly.

:It's a start. And do you still feel the need to be perfect, Severus Snape?:

"Somewhat. It will take more than one session to fix me, I'm afraid."

:Like your son,: Smidgen observed. :But then, no one is perfect, right, Wizard Snape?:

"Right." Then he added, with a mischievous smirk, "Though I do try."

:Severus Snape!: the shimmerling chided, laughing.

"Am I hopeless then, Smidgen?" he teased, his dark eyes sparkling.

:But of course. What did you wish of me?:

"Call me Sev. The way my true friends do."

Smidgen purred ecstatically. :It would be my pleasure, Sev.:

And for the first time in a very long time, the Potions Master abandoned the stoic mask of spy and heir to Prince Manor and allowed himself to grin. He had not been addressed as Sev on a regular basis in over a year, and he had to admit, if only to himself, that he had missed it. Harry had occasionally called him by it in the beginning, but somehow it was different coming from a friend. It felt wonderful, to be able to be himself, he thought happily. The way he had been so long ago, with Lily Evans, when they were young, and with Sarai now, when she came to visit him.

Much to Harry's disgust, Severus made him stay in bed for half a day the morning following his destroying the blood link. "Dad, I swear by Merlin and all the Prince ancestors, I am fine!" Harry protested. "I don't even have a headache anymore."

"Anymore?" Severus eyed his recalcitrant offspring sternly. "Then you had one and didn't tell me?"

"Uh, well it was right after I woke up, and Draco got me a Headache Remedy and it went away."

"Have you had any more pain in your head since then?" demanded his father.

"No. Dad, please, I'm not sick, why do I have to stay in bed?"

"As a precaution."

"Dad, you're overreacting."

"If I am, that's a parent's prerogative. Now, no more arguments, Harry. Stay in bed and rest. I'll have Draco bring you in some tea and oatmeal."

Harry groaned, then wondered if he could convince Draco to let him escape. Too bad I didn't have some Polyjuice Potion left over from the time Hermione made it. Then Draco and I could switch places.

Some five minutes later, Draco entered, the breakfast tray floating in front of him. The blond wizard wore a sulky frown upon his handsome features. "You've got all the luck, Harry."

"Why? I'm stuck in this damn bed all day," grumbled Harry, taking the breakfast tray as it hovered before him and placing it on his lap. He stared at the food upon it and said, "What the hell, does Dad think I didn't eat for a week or something? There's like food for three people or Crabbe and Goyle on here."

Draco seated himself on the end of the bed. "Some of that's mine, Snape. Uncle Sev figured if I ate in here with you, I could talk some sense into your stubborn hide." He helped himself to the second bowl of oatmeal, sprinkled liberally with cinnamon and pieces of banana.

"Here's some sense. You get us some Polyjuice Potion and we switch places," Harry suggested, eating some sausage.

"Nice try, little brother. But I'm not in a hurry to die yet, unlike you."

"Die? Oh, don't be so dramatic! He won't kill you just for that."

"No? Well, he'll make me wish I was dead. No way. It's not worth it."

"You've got no sense of adventure." Harry scowled into his cup of merlinna juice before sipping it.

"True. I've got something better. A sense of self-preservation." Draco quipped, eating a piece of toast. He chewed quickly, then said, "I don't get you, Harry. Any other kid would be jumping up and down, getting a whole day in bed with nothing to do but relax. But you-you act like it's a prison sentence. In Merlin's name, why?"

"I just don't like being stuck in one room for too long. It makes me . . .I don't know, stir crazy. And there's nothing wrong with me, Dad's just being a Nervous Nelly."

Draco covered his mouth with a hand to stifle his laughter. "I'd love to hear you call him that to his face, O Brave Lion Cub."

Harry shot him a glare. "Right. I might be a Gryffindor, but I'm not suicidal." He picked up his fork and toyed with the remainder of his sausage. "I can't believe I'm stuck in here for the next five hours. I might as well die of boredom."

Draco gave him a look that said Harry was utterly insane. "You know what I feel like doing?"

"What?"

"Going out and running headfirst into a tree about a dozen times."

"Huh? Why would you want to do a stupid thing like that?"

"Because then I'd get to stay in bed all day like you. Either that or be at the same mental level as you are."

"Bite me, Draco." Harry snapped irritably.

The blond wizard looked puzzled. "Do I look like a vampire, Snape?"

"What? Who said anything about vampires?" Harry repeated, confused. "Oh . . .you thought . . .no, you don't get it. . . it's a Muggle expression. It means . . .uh . . ." he trailed off, not wanting to start a quarrel.

"What's it mean?" demanded Draco suspiciously. "Something vulgar and disgusting?"

"Umm . . .it's kind of like go to hell or leave me the hell alone." Harry told him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You Muggles sure have some weird expressions."

"That's rich, coming from a person who swears by a wizard that's been dead for centuries." Harry picked up his spoon and played with his half-eaten oatmeal.

Draco watched for a moment, then said with a smirk, "Uncle Sev told me to make sure you eat nearly all your breakfast, since you need to regain your strength after your, uh, ordeal. He also said to tell you that if you don't eat, he'll come in here and spoonfeed you it like a baby."

"He said what?" Harry squawked, dropping his spoon so hard that the oatmeal splattered all over the tray. "Oh, no. No, even he wouldn't be that cruel." He picked up his spoon and began eating.

Draco waited for a few seconds before saying softly, "You're right. He wouldn't. But I would. So you ought to thank Merlin you're not my son, Harry."

Harry gaped at him, his mouth still half-full of oatmeal. "You mean . . ." he swallowed the oatmeal, then continued, ". . . you made that up? Dad never said that?"

The Slytherin shook his head. "Sorry. That one was pure Malfoy." Then he began to snicker. "You should have seen your face . . .!"

"You sodding prat!" Harry growled, chagrined at falling for Draco's trick. "You really made me think . . .you are evil, Draco."

"What's the matter, Harry? Can't take a joke?" Draco asked, still chuckling.

"Just wait. I'm going to get you back for that, see if I don't."

"Ooo, now I'm really scared. Gryffindor vengeance. Scary!"

"Be very afraid, Draco." Harry threatened, waggling his spoon. A glob of oatmeal flew off it and hit Draco in the cheek.

"Hey! Quit it, Snape!" Draco snapped, wiping the mess off his cheek.

"It was an accident."

"Right. And I've got an Elder Wand I can sell you."

"It was." Harry protested, not noticing the warning gleam in the other's eyes.

"Too bad this isn't," Draco said, then flung a spoonful of oatmeal right in Harry's face.

SPLAT!

It hit Harry square on his lenses, and for one moment he couldn't see anything. He ripped his glasses off and picked up a piece of toast and lobbed it at his foster brother. "That'll teach you!"

"Teach me what? How to die laughing? Pathetic. Let me show you how it's done." And with that Draco summoned a second bowl of oatmeal and dumped it over Harry's head.

Harry gasped, wiping the oatmeal off his face frantically.

"Now that's funny."

"Now you're really in for it, Malfoy," Harry mock-growled, then summoned a dozen raw eggs from the icebox and chucked them right in Draco's face while the other was laughing at his own wit.

CRACK!

Draco sputtered, egg dripping down his eyebrows and nose.

"Egg on your face, Draco?"

"You're dead meat, Snape!" Draco coughed, wiping egg off with his napkin. "Eat this, Harry!"

Scrambled eggs shot off the Slytherin's plate, nailing Harry in the chest.

Harry tried to duck, but only ended up knocking half the tray over. Sausage and juice cascaded all over Draco's lap. "Oops. Looks like you're a little wet, eh, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes glittered, promising retribution. He waved his wand, but before he could summon anything, a silky voice demanded, "And just what the bloody blazes is going on in here?"

Both boys froze. The same thought passed through their minds. Aw, bloody damn hell!

Then they shouted, "He started it!" while pointing an accusing finger at the other.

* * * * * *

Five minutes later, both boys were on their hands and knees, scrubbing the carpet. "Good one, Harry," grumbled Draco. "Like I need any more things to clean."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who summoned a bowl of oatmeal and dumped it over my head."

"You started it first, throwing it in my face."

"I told you it was an accident." Harry retorted, scrubbing at the merlinna stain in the carpet.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Bite me."

"Less talk and more scrubbing, boys!" came their father's voice. "Or shall I come in there and supervise?"

"No, sir!" they called back, and then the only sounds in the room was the soft shush of scrub brushes and the swish of wet rags.

* * * * * *

After their impromptu food fight, Severus sent Draco outside to do some herb gathering and Harry back to bed, with stern orders to sleep or read, but nothing more strenuous until the afternoon. "You might feel fine right now, but you used up a great deal of your magic breaking the blood link, son, and it's bound to catch up with you soon." Severus explained. "So, rather than finding you passed out on the floor somewhere, I want you in bed. Now quite moping and take a nap, because if I catch you out of bed for any reason save to use the bathroom, I'll cast a Sticking Charm on you."

Harry gulped. "That's mean, Dad!"

"Do what I tell you and you won't have to worry about it," his father said silkily. "It's for your own good, Harry."

"Please, Dad! Not that old line again!" he groaned. "Can't you come up with a different one?"

"As a matter of fact, I can. How about, keep your wandering behind in bed, Mr. Snape, or else it's going to get grounded for two days? Is that better?"

Harry made a face at him. Then he leaned back against the pillows Snape fluffed for him and tried to think of ways to keep going mad from boredom. His eyes roamed over the bedroom, taking in the familiar desks with their textbooks on top, Draco's bed, which he'd made just this morning with a quick Neaten-Up Charm, and the perches for their owls.

Stormrider was on his, sleeping with his head tucked under a wing, but Hedwig was absent from hers, oddly enough. Now that he thought about it, he had not seen his snowy owl of late, though she was usually roosting at night, and hunting during the day, for snowy owls were not strictly nocturnal, like some other species of owls.

Here at the manor, the owls were free to come and go as they pleased, the window behind their perches was always left open. Harry had been so busy trying to straighten out his head that he had quite forgotten to pay attention to his owl, he realized with a wince of shame. Some wizard I am, can't even remember to pay attention to my own owl. Somebody ought to report me to the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Owls. I wonder where Hedwig's gotten to?

Looking back, he realized Hedwig had been acting oddly of late, refusing to roost in his room, the way she normally did, instead flying outside to sleep in the hollow of a large oak tree right across from Harry's new room.

He wondered why the owl had suddenly chosen to change her sleeping patterns, most animals resisted change for as long as possible. He sat up, trying to see the oak tree from his bed through the window. It was impossible to get a good view from where he was, however.

Harry sighed. If he got out of bed, he'd be breaking Severus's rule, and then he'd get grounded. But he had to see if Hedwig was in the tree, he felt very guilty for neglecting the owl this past week, she was the first pet he had ever had, as well as his first real birthday present (that he could remember, anyhow).

He drummed his fingers on his blanket, thinking hard. Well, Harry, you've got two choices. You can stay here like a good little boy and mind your daddy, or you can break the rules and get out of bed and go see if Hedwig's okay, and risk Dad reaming your arse out for disobeying him.

There was no real question about whether or not Severus would find out his transgression-the man seemed to know what Harry was going to do before he even did it-the real question was did he want to risk his father's wrath?

It took him about three minutes to make up his mind.

Hedwig was worth a scolding and a grounding.

He threw back his covers stealthily and made his way on cat's feet across the room to the window.

The oak tree was directly across from it, and Harry had a fine view of the large hole in the trunk, where he caught a glimpse of a snowy white feather and then, as he squinted hard, distance was a problem for him even with glasses, he saw Hedwig's familiar shape within the trunk.

He breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his owl unharmed. But why was she roosting in the tree during the day?

Harry turned to examine her perch, thinking perhaps there was something wrong with it. But no, the perch was in good condition, sanded and scrubbed free of guano by a cleaning charm he'd cast last week. Yet the owl was still sleeping in a tree!

"What's up with her, Stormy?" he asked Draco's eagle-owl, who opened one eye sleepily and whoo-ed softly before going back to sleep.

"Just like your master. A sleepaholic." Harry sighed. "Figures. Hedwig! Hey, girl!" he whistled the special sequence of notes he had created just for her, so she would know when he needed her.

The snowy owl opened her huge amber eyes and clicked her beak at him. Not now! She seemed to be saying. Later, I'm busy.

Harry whistled again, but again the owl ignored him. He couldn't believe it. She was giving him the cold shoulder, or wing, or whatever. "Merlin, Hedwig! My arse is gonna be nailed to a wall ‘cause of you, and you won't even come over and say hello," he muttered.

Then he heard it.

A small screeching noise, that sounded like someone running nails down a blackboard. It was a sound he was familiar with, since Dudley used to do it in primary school while the teacher was out of the room, and make all the other kids scream, then blame Harry when the teacher returned.

Hedwig immediately popped out of the hollow tree and flew up to one of the higher broader branches. Harry's eyes followed her as she flew straight to . . .a nest in the oak tree.

Where she promptly nuzzled four little owlets, all of whom were now awake and screeching for food.

As if that were a signal, Stormrider awoke also and flew out the window, hunting for food to feed his starving owlets.

"Wow! Holy Merlin! Wait till I tell Draco. He's never gonna believe this." Harry said, half to himself. "Hedwig had babies, and I never even knew she was pregnant. What a dope I am!"

He remained at the window, barefoot, entranced by the sight of his owl feeding her four babies from a rabbit Stormy had brought to her, forgetting that he should be in bed, that if Severus caught him he'd be in big trouble, nothing mattered except Hedwig and her new family.

Until he felt a strange weariness creep through him, and suddenly he was swaying on his feet, so exhausted he could barely stand. He clutched the window sill hard, trying to fight off the exhaustion, but it was almost impossible. His eyes were closing in spite of themselves.

"No . . .don't go to sleep, you need to keep awake so you can see Hedwig's babies . . ." he muttered to himself, struggling against the urge to curl up right there and sleep for a week.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name are you doing out of bed?" Severus demanded, he had come to check on the boy, figuring that he would be sleeping, and instead found his disobedient son standing barefoot by an open window.

Harry made as if to turn around, wincing at the tone of strong disapproval, but just then his sleep-deprived legs gave way and he would have crumpled to the floor if not for his father, who came and snatched him up in his arms just before Harry's head cracked against the floor.

"Oh Harry, why must you be so bloody stubborn?" began an exasperated and annoyed Severus. "Do you see now why I wanted you in bed?"

"Sorry, Dad. . . but it's Hedwig . . .she wouldn't come to me when I called her . . ." Harry mumbled, fighting the exhaustion sweeping through him with everything he had.

"Harry, go to sleep. I will find out what's bothering your owl." Severus soothed, laying the boy back in his bed and tucking him in.

"No . . .y'don' unnerstand . . ." his son cried, slurring his words in an effort to talk before he went to sleep. "Hedwig . . .has babies . . .her n' Stormy . . .thas why I broke th' rules . . .Sorry, Dad . . ."

Right after he had said that, he fell asleep.

Severus sighed and brushed strands of his son's dark hair off his forehead. "Oh Harry, what am I going to do with you?" He didn't really want to ground the boy, even though he had said he would. He could understand Harry's wish to look after his pet and also the excitement and awe that Hedwig had hatched a whole brood of owlets right under his nose. Maybe I'll only ground you for a day instead of the two you deserve, you disobedient brat, he thought, removing his son's glasses.

With that, he Apparated outside to get a better look at the new family with his broom and camera.

Hedwig eyed him suspiciously as he hovered before the nest, snapping a few photos of the downy owlets, who were fuzzy balls of white and gray with huge yellow eyes and ever-open beaks, at least at this stage. Severus was careful to stay several feet away from the nest, not wanting to cause Hedwig to become frightened and attack him.

Normally, the owls the wizards bred were non-aggressive towards humans and very intelligent, far more than any Muggle ever realized, but a new mother with babies to feed and protect was bound to be tetchy and unappreciative of visitors, and Severus was wise enough not to push the issue. Getting attacked by his son's owl was not the way he wanted to begin his day.

He judged the owlets were about a week and a few days, judging from their size and the fuzzy down on their bodies. They had voracious appetites, Hedwig and Stormy were kept busy cramming food into their maws, until the babies were so stuffed they couldn't eat another morsel, and fell asleep in the nest.

Severus found himself smiling, for this was the first time he had ever seen a nest of owlets, the school owls usually didn't breed during the school year, but seemed to prefer the summer months when it was quiet and no one was about to hatch their eggs and raise their young. The Potions Master felt very privileged to be able to watch Hedwig and Stormy raise their brood.

"You have a fine family there," he told the two parents, who were too busy nuzzling their owlets to pay much attention to him, even when he snapped two more pictures of them on the nest with the sleeping babies together. "All right, I'll leave you two alone now," he said, sensing Hedwig's unease, and then he flew back down to the manor.

* * * * * *

Draco was as astonished as Harry when Severus told him of the owls' new family. "Wow! I knew that Stormy liked Hedwig, but I never expected they would, uh, go all the way, know what I mean?" he said, a faint blush creeping up his pale cheeks at discussing such an intimate subject with his godfather. "I didn't think owls mated outside their own species."

"The wizarding owls are different from normal ones, Draco," reminded Snape. "I would have thought Hagrid would have mentioned that during a lesson by now. They exhibit behaviors that would normally be strange or nonexistent in a normal owl, such as cross species mating."

"How many owlets did they have, Uncle Sev?"

"Four and they all seem to be healthy and thriving, from what I could see."

"Could I go and see them, do you think?"

"I would wait a day or so, Hedwig seemed a bit nervous when I went over to take some pictures. You don't want to upset her too much, otherwise she might try and hurt you, or to move the nest to a different location. Right now, she seems content to raise her offspring in the oak tree near the manor. Perhaps when the owlets are a little older, we might try moving them inside your room, if Hedwig and Stormy permit it." Severus mused. "The summer storm season will soon be upon us and I don't think the owlets should need to deal with the weather when we can provide adequate shelter for them."

"That makes sense," agreed his godson. Then he thought of another question. "Uncle sev, can you tell what they are, the owlets, I mean? If they're, uh, male or female?"

Severus shook his head. "Not yet. I'm sure the parents know, but since I can't speak owl, I can't ask them. So we'll have to wait until they're fledged before we can tell the males from females."

"Oh." Draco sounded faintly disappointed. Then he brightened. "Hey, I wonder if Smidgen can understand them? Maybe she could ask them."

"That's a possibility. You can ask her after she awakens from her nap. In the meantime, Mr. Malfoy, I could use your help with preparing all those herbs you gathered for me. Some of them need to be dried and some chopped."

Draco bit back a sigh. Normally he enjoyed working with his godfather in the lab, but today he felt a tad restless and wished he could climb the oak tree and see Stormy's babies himself. It felt funny, thinking of his gray owl as a father, but he knew that Stormy would take his new duty seriously, since both male and female owls looked after their young.

"Okay, Uncle Sev. Maybe after that I could look up baby owls in the library and read up on them," suggested Draco slyly, knowing full well Severus would never refuse him the opportunity to gather more knowledge, for he was a firm believer in the creed, you can always learn more and also no knowledge is ever wasted.

"Yes, that's a very good idea, but first you have a few rooms to dust and the dishes from breakfast need to be washed."

"Aww, Merlin, Uncle Sev! Can't I just skip those chores for today?"

"No, you may not," his mentor said sternly. "And you're lucky I'm not giving you extra for that . . .that altercation over breakfast you and Harry had this morning."

"It's called a food fight, Uncle Sev."

"I know perfectly well what it's called, young man, I'm not an imbecile," scolded Severus. "What I don't understand is why you two decided to start one."

Draco shrugged. "I . . .don't know. It, uh, just sort of happened."

"Well, best you make sure it doesn't "just happen" again. Or else I'll make some time in a corner and lines "just happen"," promised the Potions Master.

"Yes, sir." Then he added, grinning, "But even you have to admit we did look sort of ridiculous. Harry had oatmeal in his hair and I had egg all over my face."

Severus's mouth twitched. "Yes, well from now on, do try and act your age, Draco Michael. No matter how hard that may be for you," he teased, smirking.

"Real funny, Uncle Sev," retorted his ward, rolling his eyes. Then he shouldered the basket of herbs Severus handed to him and went down to the lab to begin washing and chopping them.

The Potions Master followed, happy to spend some time with Draco alone for awhile, since he didn't want his other son to feel neglected or left out. As they chopped and washed the herbs, Draco told Severus of his recent marks for last term and wanted to know how Harry did.

Here, Severus hesitated, trying to remember if he'd seen a transcript of Harry's grades. Normally the owls delivered them, but then he recalled that with the time difference, Hedwig might not have flown to retrieve the mail yet. So perhaps that was why he hadn't received a copy of Harry's grades by now. Unless they had already been sent out and the Dursleys had them, in which case Severus knew he could check them when he went back to Hogwarts, or else ask Harry if he'd gotten the term report yet.

"I'm not sure what Harry's marks were, he didn't tell me." Severus admitted. "I'll have to ask him about it later, when he wakes up."

"Oh, right," Draco said, returning to separating the marigold heads and stems for the Calming Draft. Inwardly, though, he wondered if Harry hadn't shown his marks to Severus because he was hiding something, like a bad grade.

That had never been an option for Draco, whose father was on the Board of Governors and made it his business to know when the term marks were sent out, so he could see his son's immediately, and either reward him or punish him accordingly. Said rewards were usually something like a trip to a Quidditch game or money, punishment usually was a session with the elder Malfoy's cane, and then some remedial lessons with his godfather.

With such a fate looming over his head, Draco made sure he got good marks in school, or at least higher than any Slytherin in his year. He winced recalling the awful thrashing Lucius had given him at the end of first year upon discovering Hermione Granger had beat him for the highest marks in almost every subject. That had been one reason why Draco had lost it and called her a Mudblood during the next year, because he was resentful that she had outperformed him, a pureblood, and caused his father to punish him so severely. Not that it was an excuse, but there had been a reason behind his nasty mouth, besides being raised to think Muggleborns were trash.

He finished the marigolds and placed them in a dish, then started on the lavender, grinding the sweet-smelling flowers into a powder. He could also recall how furious Severus was when he discovered what Lucius had done, saying that Lucius was nothing but a hypocrite, since when he was in school, Muggleborn Lily Evans had outperformed him in every subject save Defense, and Lucius had never been thrashed for it. He had then given his godson a salve which healed the welts and told him to make sure he kept it hidden when he returned home. Draco had found more use for the salve over the past year and a half than he would have thought possible, as Lucius grew more and more short-tempered over the fact that his plans to resurrect the Dark Lord kept getting thwarted by Harry Potter or the Aurors.

Maybe I could ask Harry later what's up with his marks, I'm kind of curious. I wonder if having Granger as a friend makes him smarter than normal, does it rub off by association? At least he won't ever need to worry about Uncle Sev thrashing him for getting a bad mark. A long lecture, yes, and maybe even a grounding, but he told me a long time ago that if I was his son, he'd never beat me over a bad mark. He said doing that was counterproductive and wouldn't help anything. And he's a teacher, and getting good marks in school is very important to him.

Though he and Snape didn't say much while they worked, as neither was one for meaningless chatter, the time in the lab passed pleasantly for both teacher and student, as each went about their tasks competently and quickly. Draco even earned a rare "Good job on the ground tansy and shelf moss," from Severus, when the man happened to glance over at his ward's workstation. Draco felt like preening. Severus was not loathe to give out praise, but he only did so if he felt the student had earned it, and he had high standards, especially when it came to potion making.

After the potions lab, however, came the part of the day Draco liked least, the chores around the manor. For over a month and a half, Harry had accompanied him as he worked, and doing chores alone was tedious and boring, as Draco soon discovered. He was almost tempted to wake up his brother and tell him to help him dust the den, he was so desperate for another person to speak with or to help him finish so he could go and observe the newest additions to the Snape household.

But he thought better of it when he imagined Severus's reaction upon discovering Draco had woken up Harry, who was recovering from a major working, just so he could have company during his chores. Plus it wouldn't be fair to the other boy, who was probably exhausted, even if he wouldn't admit it. Draco knew a little about blood links due to Lucius, it was an old magic, one that had been around for centuries, and it was used by dark wizards to control or possess another, though it was not labeled an Unforgivable for some reason, probably because hardly any wizard had the strength to cast it anymore. The Slytherin shuddered, for even thinking about having old Snake Face in his head made him ill. He couldn't imagine what Harry had endured, and felt sorry for his brother.

So Draco let Harry sleep, since waking him wasn't worth the lecture or the additional punishment he would receive, and slogged through the dusting and cleaning, grumbling under his breath about Snape's policy of treating his children like house elves.

By the time he had finished, it was getting on to lunch time, and he headed into the room he shared with Harry to see if the other boy had woken up yet. He halted just inside the door, for Severus was inside, scolding his son for endangering his health and disobeying his rules by going to see Hedwig.

" . . .I understand your concern over your pet, Harry, but I cannot condone you making yourself sick over an owl. If you were that worried, you could have called me or Draco to check on her and thus avoided disobeying my rules, which are there for your own benefit."

"Yes, sir," Harry said in a subdued tone Draco could relate to. But then he added, with typical Gryffindor stubbornness and daring, "But all I did was walk across the room to the window, how's that dangerous?"

"And after you had discovered Hedwig's little surprise, what happened, Mr. Snape? Do you remember, or shall I refresh your memory?" Severus queried sharply. "You crumpled to the ground and would have bashed your head into the floor if I hadn't been there to catch you. The very thing I warned you might happen, and you disregarded my warning like a reckless eight-year-old. . ." he continued, though Draco could hear the concern beneath the scolding, and hoped his brother could as well.

Draco listened to Harry's soft apology, and Severus telling his son that he was now grounded for a day for his foolish and reckless behavior, then when it seemed like the parental lecture was over, the blond wizard entered the bedroom and asked if anyone would like lunch.

Harry would have liked to say he wasn't hungry, but didn't for two reasons. The first being he didn't want his father to say he was sulking like a five-year-old, and the second was because he was ravenous all of a sudden. He peered warily up at his father, who was standing beside the bed, and asked, "Am I allowed up to go and eat lunch in the kitchen, or are you still treating me like I'm an invalid?"

"You may eat lunch in the kitchen, now that you've rested enough. In order to replenish your magic you need both sleep and food," said the master wizard, and Harry scrambled out of bed eagerly.

Draco just rolled his eyes as his brother beat a hasty retreat out of the room. Gryffindors! Sometimes there was just no understanding them.

Over lunch, Harry and Draco discussed the owls and their babies, agreeing that when they were old enough, they should be moved inside the manor, and wanting to know what the babies were so they could name them.

"Is Smidgen awake yet, Dad?"

"No, I don't believe so." Snape replied, glancing over to where the shimmerling was curled up asleep on her cushion. "But I will inform her of your dilemma when she wakes up and perhaps she can speak with your owls and see what sex their owlets are."

"Great! Then we can start naming them," said Draco eagerly. "We'll each name two, okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, fine with me." Harry replied, eating a second grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. He wondered if, after this last session, his nightmares would be gone forever. He sure hoped so, but if not, he would be willing to endure another session or two. Once he had finished the second sandwich, he looked longingly at a third one, debating on whether or not to take it, when Severus placed it upon his plate.

"Eat it, Harry. After what you've been through, son, your body needs the extra calories and carbohydrates."

Harry was only too happy to obey that command. Three sandwiches and a half a large bag of crisps and two glasses of pomegranate juice later, Harry's ravenous appetite was finally sated.

Draco tilted his head and said, "For a minute there, Harry, I thought you were going to become a goat and start eating the damn table too!"

Harry looked slightly embarrassed, for he had never consumed that much food at one sitting and wondered if he were channeling Dudley. Then he quipped, "I would've but there wasn't enough salt."

Which prompted Severus to deliver a mini lecture on the costs of breaking certain high level charms and binding spells, explaining that nothing come without a cost. "You're fortunate, Harry, that Smidgen was with you and that you have such a strong magical gift. Anyone else would have been passed out on the floor by now and take a week to recover."

Harry shrugged, having never really thought he had a strong gift before this. "Honest? I never really thought I was that strong."

"You are, son. You have a great talent, one which needs to be honed and focused, but it is definitely stronger than your average wizard's. Both you and Draco have very strong gifts, which is why I keep stressing the importance of control over yourselves, for uncontrolled magic can have disastrous consequences. However, in this instance, Harry, your magic enabled you to free yourself from the blood link, a very great achievement. Most adult wizards could not have done that."

The pride in Severus's voice was unmistakable, and Harry basked in the unexpected pleasure of having a parent who was proud of him for something, it was a far cry from the way he used to be treated. Well, at least now I know I'm not a useless waste of breath, like Uncle Vernon always said, he thought, not realizing he had inadvertently spoken those words aloud until Severus's face darkened with anger.

"A waste of breath, are you? That one was nothing more than an ignorant hippopotamus, a waste of breath and space, in my opinion. You should not believe everything he said, for he lied to make himself feel better, and you are anything but useless, Harry. Both of my sons are competent, smart, and extremely useful individuals, and when you graduate Hogwarts I would wager you can have your pick of careers."

"Just don't expect me to pick anything with the word "housecleaning" in it," Draco added lightly, drawing a chuckle from both other wizards.

Then Severus added, "Whatever career you choose, just remember one very important thing, pick a job that you can be happy in. Not for money or prestige or because your best friend likes it. All of those things matter nothing if you can't stand to get up everyday and go to work. So choose the career that is fulfilling and rewarding to you, and that you enjoy doing, so when you need to get up at five in the morning you won't mind it all that much."

"Like you don't mind getting up early to water the herb garden and brew potions, right, Uncle Sev?" Draco said.

"Exactly. I do want you to think carefully about what you would like to do, but remember this above all-be true to yourself. For there is nothing worse than trying to be something you are not, as I well know, who was once Death Eater and spy."

"But you were an amazing spy, Dad."

"Perhaps, but I hated it. I did it out of necessity, not because I enjoyed it, and I am very glad I no longer have to don that mantle again, nor will I, even if Albus begs me on bended knee. There was nothing heroic or glamorous about being a spy, it was dangerous, nasty work, and I am through with it. The only thing I wish now is to remain a simple Potions Master and pass on my craft to my sons and students. That is plenty of adventure and reward enough for me," stated Severus quietly. "Between that and raising you two, I shall be very busy indeed."

The two boys were quiet for a moment then, thinking about what their father had said, though neither of them was really considering careers at this stage, that was almost three years away, and they had plenty of time to ponder it. Right then they were content to simply be Severus's sons, and worry about how best to please their father, who didn't have such impossible standards after all. Most of the time.

* * * * * *

Later on that night, as Harry was sitting up in bed, reading a Quidditch biography Ron had sent him, Draco peered out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the owlets and his owl, all of whom had decided to stay outside that evening.

"Blast! I can't see anything with the sky pitch dark, except for a few stars," Draco sighed irritably, turning away from the window in disgust. "Guess I'll have to wait for tomorrow morning, like Uncle Sev said." he brushed a stray bit of dust off his faded T-shirt and climbed on his bed, sitting cross-legged like one of those Buddhist statues. "So, d'you feel any better for your long rest today, little brother?"

Harry glanced up from his book, scowling warningly. "Draco, please! I'm not little!"

"Compared to me, you are," teased the other.

"So? Size matters nothing, it's what's up here that counts." he tapped his forehead pointedly.

"In that case, I've got you beat there as well, Snape."

"Says who?"

"You first."

"Fine. I got O's in almost everything except for History of Magic, I got an E there and Divination too. How about you?"

Harry hesitated, not sure if he wanted to share that information with Draco, even though he had shared it with Ron. Not Hermione though, because she would only lecture him about getting better study habits and that was the last thing he needed. But he knew the Slytherin would hound him until he gave in, and so he said, "If I tell you, I want you to promise me something."

"Like what?" asked Draco warily.

"If you're serious about me being your brother, then you promise me you won't tell Dad about my grades."

Draco gaped at him. "Merlin, they're that bad?"

"No, not all of them. Just one. Promise me, Draco. On-on your wizard's honor."

"Harry, you don't have to hide your marks from Uncle Sev," began Draco, intending to tell the other boy about Severus's policy concerning grades, but Harry interrupted him.

"I'm serious, Malfoy! Promise me."

"Oh, keep your shorts on, Snape. Very well. I promise on my sacred wizard's honor that I won't tell Uncle Sev how awful you did. Now, spill it!" Draco shot him an impatient look, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I got two O's in Defense and Tranfiguration, E in Charms and A's in Herbology, Divination, and Potions, and . . .a D in History of Magic." Harry admitted, keeping his face averted. "I don't have the parchment any more, Uncle Vernon chucked it in the fireplace, but I know it won't make a difference, since Dad's a teacher, he can find out from the Headmaster. I just don't want to tell him now and have him freak out on me."

"Sn-Harry, listen to me. I know Uncle Sev can be a strict bastard about most things, but he's not going to flip over one bad grade, trust me."

"Oh, yeah, right. He's a professor, I'm his son. Of course he's going to go postal if I don't do well in school. It's like an unwritten law that a teacher's kid is supposed to ace his classes, Draco. I know it is. And he'll nail my arse to the wall if he ever learns I got a D on my exam from Binns."

"Harry, nobody in the school ever gets more than an E in Binns' class, because it's so boring everyone falls asleep. Merlin, Binns had such a boring existence that he died lecturing!"

"Hermione got an O, I think."

"What'd she do, take a Stimulating Elixir?"

"Nope. She's read Hogwarts: A History like ten times already. Along with half the library."

"Well, Uncle Sev knows how boring Binns is, so I'm sure if you just explain the reason why you got such a poor mark, he'll-"

"-he'll ground me from now until next summer." Harry predicted. "You know he will, Draco. I can't really stop him from finding out, he's a teacher so I'm sure he's got access to all the grade logs and stuff, but I don't want to get in more trouble than I'm already in this summer."

"HARRY!" The other snarled loudly, irritated at not being able to finish his sentence. "Will you shut your mouth and let me finish, for the love of Merlin?" Harry nodded. "First of all, I've known Uncle Sev a lot longer than you have, and despite his being a perfectionist pain-in-the-arse, he won't throttle you or whip you over a bad grade. He's not like that."

"No? How would you know?"

"Because that's the way my father behaved. If I came home with less than an E in anything, he gave me the business end of his cane." He shuddered slightly and winced, for though that had been many years ago, he had never forgotten it. "Then he sent me to Uncle Sev for remedial lessons, so i could bring up my grades next term. Last time that happened . . .at the end of first year . . .when Uncle Sev saw what Father had done to me . . .I think he wanted to hex him into the dark side of hell, he was that furious. He swore to me that Father was dead wrong to treat me like that, and he said that if he ever had a son, he'd never do that to him over a bad mark, that it was counterproductive, and no kid learns by having knowledge beaten into him."

"Honest?"

Draco nodded solemnly. "I swear it upon my wizard's oath."

Harry was silent for a moment, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. At last he said, very quietly, "I wasn't worried so much that he'd beat me, he promised me he would never take a belt to me like my uncle . . .I just . . . don't want him to be disappointed in me. And he will be, because he expects me to be a good student."

Draco was quiet for a moment after that too, for he understood where Harry was coming from. In the weeks he had stayed with Severus at Spinner's End, he had learned to be wary of the Potion Master's sharp tongue, but he had never feared the man physically abusing him. It was Severus's disappointment he had feared. Snape's disappointment had hurt him more than a dozen spankings, because he knew he had let his godfather down, and Draco valued his opinion highly and wanted to please him more than anything.

The blond apprentice heaved a sigh and said at last, "Look, Harry. I know sort of what you mean, ‘cause I don't like disappointing him either. In fact, I hate it. The way he looks at you . . .hell, I'd rather him wallop my arse than look at me that way, know what I mean?"

Harry nodded. He knew exactly what Draco meant. Severus's angry Snape glare could make kids run for the nearest exit. But Severus's disappointed glare could make a kid get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, it was so potent. Especially if said kid was his child, and knew he was deserving of it. Guilt and shame stung worse than a wooden spoon, far far worse.

"That's why I don't want him to know. At least not now."

Draco sighed. "Well, he won't hear it from me. But, for your information, we were discussing last term's grades today and I think he might be asking you about them soon."

Harry put his head in his hands and groaned. "Aw, Merlin! Why me? If he asks . . .if he asks, I'll have to tell him. I can't lie. Damn stupid History of Magic! Why can't they get rid of Binns and have somebody alive teach it? Or one of the other ghosts, if they'd rather a dead person?"

"That's Hogwarts for you." Draco shrugged, then said with a touch of sympathy. "If you want my advice, Harry, it's best to tell him and get it over with. Before you give yourself a migraine or an ulcer stressing over it."

"No! I . . .can't. He just said he was proud of me and once he finds out about my mark . . .Later, I'll tell him later, before we leave for school." Harry decided. Severus was the first person who had ever told Harry he was proud of him for anything, and Harry couldn't bear to see the disappointment upon the other's face.

"Okay, Harry. It's your life." Draco flopped back on his bed, wishing Harry weren't so bloody stubborn and knew how to listen to reason. Sure, Severus might be angry and rant and rave for a bit, but then he would calm and while he might punish his son, he wouldn't be unreasonable about it, and at least it would be over. But Harry wasn't in Gryffindor for nothing, the House of Lions was known for their stubbornness as well as bravery.

"And what a wonderful one it is," grumbled the other self-pityingly.

"Oh, quit whining!" Draco snapped. "After what you endured from your uncle and all, you're acting like it's the end of the world if you get a bad exam grade? You've definitely been spending too much time with Miss Granger, Snape!"

"It's not the grade that's bugging me, idiot! It's the way he's going to react to it. I don't want him to be angry and disappointed again, damn it all! It really sucks!" cried Harry, not even realizing he was shouting until the door opened and Severus stuck his head in to see what was wrong.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name is wrong?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut, refusing to answer.

Severus turned to Draco. "Well? Would you care to enlighten me on why your brother was screaming at the top of his lungs?"

"Uh . . .don't look at me, Uncle Sev. He was just . . .uh . . .venting about something that was bothering him, is all."

Severus looked suspicious. "Draco, what are you hiding?"

"Nothing, sir!" Draco did his best to look utterly innocent.

Snape frowned. "Nothing doesn't cause you to look like a guilty two-year-old caught playing with my potion ingredients, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco blushed furiously, he really had hoped Severus had forgotten about that little incident. He should have known better, the man remembered everything! "Uh . . .I can't tell you, Uncle Sev."

"Why? Are you afraid you'll get in trouble?"

"No . . .it's because I promised I wouldn't." Draco admitted, squirming a bit under the professor's gaze. He really wished Snape didn't have this habit of looking right through you, it was so damn unnerving, and it made him feel guilty even when he hadn't done anything!

"Ah. Well, a promise made must be kept." He looked over at Harry, who was doing his best to hide behind his book, since he couldn't pretend he was sleeping. "Harry? Is there something you would like to tell me?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Ummm . . ."

He peeked over the top of his book.

Severus was now standing in the doorway, looking a bit puzzled. But he wasn't angry. Not yet.

Harry darted a glance at Draco, who was making a sharp "go on" gesture and giving him a thumbs-up sign.

Still, Harry hesitated, though his stomach was in knots and he felt like his head was going to explode.

Severus peered at the boy, alarmed at how pale he looked. "Harry? Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes! I-I mean I'm fine." Harry said quickly. Then he shook his head. "Not really."

"What's wrong? Did you remember something about the nightmare that's bothering you?" asked his father, concern written all over his face, for once.

"No. It's not that. It's . . .something else."

"Something else." The Potions Master mused. He had a very good idea what it was, but he wanted his son to tell him on his own and so all he said then was, "This ‘something else' wouldn't happen to be anything like last term's report card, would it?"

Harry didn't answer, and Draco smacked himself in the forehead and bit his lip hard to keep from blurting that yes, it was, and Harry was making himself sick over a stupid D in History of Magic. Bloody Gryffindor stubborn pride! And people said Slytherins were proud.

After waiting what seemed like an interminably long time, Severus sighed and said, in a last ditch attempt to get Harry to speak to him on his own, "Well, if it is anything to do with grades, we can discuss it tomorrow morning, after I owl the Headmaster for your transcript, since I never got a copy of it, but I am now entitled to one as your father."

"No!" Harry blurted. "Don't do that."

"Whyever not? It's my job as a parent to monitor your grades. Have you a copy I might examine then?"

"No . . .Uncle Vernon burned mine," his son admitted miserably. Then he took a deep breath and said, "But . . .but I'll tell you what I got. . . only you're not going to like it."

"Are you failing a subject, son?" inquired the Potions Master calmly.

"No . . ." Harry's hands twisted on the coverlet. "Can I talk to you in the study?" He didn't want Draco to see Snape go all snarky and disappointed on him, it was embarrassing enough as it was.

"Yes. Come." Severus turned and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Lights out in half an hour, Draco."

Draco murmured an assent, then nodded as Harry went past.

Once they had entered the study, Harry wished he had just kept his mouth shut and let Snape get the transcript from Dumbledore. Then he could have waited till tomorrow to face his father's wrath. But he knew he wouldn't have slept a wink, and maybe Draco was right and he should just get it over with.

Severus settled himself behind the desk, figuring if he put a little distance between them, it might make his son more comfortable. "Sit, please."

Harry obeyed, sitting down, fighting the urge to squirm like a naughty child, though he felt very much like a naughty child about to receive a well-deserved punishment.

He fixed his gaze at the coffee mug on Snape's desk, it was green and had the words Potion Master's Private Brew written on it above a smoking cauldron. He licked his lips and wiped his hands twice on his pants.

"Harry. Lord, child, I'm not going to eat you."

"Okay. I, uh, got two O's and some A's, an E and I . . .gotaDinHistoryofMagic," he mumbled, trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve entirely.

"Excuse me? You have two O's, some A's and an E and what was that last part?" demanded the professor. "Head up and speak clearly, if you don't mind."

"I . . .I said I . . .got a D from Professor Binns."

There! It was done. He waited tensely for the explosion.

It never came.

Harry waited and waited. But Severus didn't say anything.

"Dad? Are . . .are you mad at me?" he hated the way he sounded, like a whimpering four-year-old, but Severus's silence was far more unnerving than his temper would have been.

"A little, yes. But I'm more disappointed than mad, son."

Harry cringed. He had known that was coming, but even so, it stung. "I'm sorry, sir. I just couldn't concentrate . . .it was just too boring! I know that's a lame excuse, I'll try and do better next time, I promise . . . I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"You are, and well you should be, young man. A D in History of Magic is disgraceful. Is Miss Granger the only one who stays awake in that class?" Then he relented a bit upon seeing the stricken expression on Harry's face. "I would assume so, since every time I go past, you're all snoozing."

"We can't help it, Dad," Harry muttered to the carpet. He felt like he were about five and he'd just confessed to writing on the wall in permanent marker HARRY WAS HERE.

"Yes, you can."

"How?"

"By paying attention to your textbook and not Binns," Severus said sternly. "That way you could learn the material on your own and still pass the course."

"Oh. I never thought of that."

"Obviously not." Severus said, then resolved to put the boy out of his misery. "Since that is so, part of your punishment is to read the History of Magic textbook for the rest of your summer holiday."

Harry groaned. "And the second part? You gonna wallop my bum with a spoon?" he guessed.

"No. Not over this. A child who is beaten over poor grades learns nothing useful except how to hide the truth and fear his parent, and that is not the lesson I wish to teach you. I am very disappointed in you, however, young man. If you were having trouble with a subject, you should have sought help from a teacher or a student."

"Yes, sir." His socks were worn and slightly holey. But his stomach had stopped churning like a pot about to boil over. Now it only felt like someone had sucker punched him, especially when Severus had uttered those awful words.

"Why didn't you?"

"Uh, I don't know, sir."

"Very well, the second part of your punishment is this. When you've finished the History of Magic book, tell me and I'll give you the same exam Professor Binns did and you may take it over. The score won't count, but it should tell you where you stand."

"That's all?"

"No. You're also going to write an essay for me about ways you could have brought up your grade. And lastly . . ." Severus coughed, for these words did not come easily, "I want you to know that I . . .forgive you for getting a bad mark, Harry. And that you can come to me if you're having problems, I won't bite you . . .much."

"But . . .but you're still disappointed in me."

"Yes, but I'm not going to disown you or whip you. That I will promise you, though you should know that by now, son."

"I'm sorry, sir. I . . .I know how you want a son that you can . . .be proud of." He kept his eyes glued to the floor so his father wouldn't see the babyish tears in them.

"And you think that one bad mark will keep me from being proud of you? That I would condemn you for it for life?" Severus asked, and Harry was startled to hear a faint hurt tone in the other's voice. "Have I become my father without knowing, that you would think such of me?" he asked, half to himself.

"No . . .but I'm supposed to do well in school . . .and you're a professor so . . ."

" . . .so my son should get perfect marks? Is that what you think?"

"Yeah. Why? Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes, I want you to do well in school. I know you can, for you're smart and can work hard when you set your mind to it. But, Harry, that does not mean that occasionally you cannot fail, for no one is perfect."

"I know . . .but I want to be . . .because then you won't be disappointed in me."

"Son, I am disappointed in myself far more than I am of you. I expect you to make mistakes, that is how you learn, after all. But learn from those mistakes and try not to repeat them. Do that, Harry, and I will always be proud of you." Severus reassured him. "Come to me when you're having a problem and I will help you as best I can. That is my job as both parent and teacher. But . . .if you ever try and hide a bad grade from me or lie to me about one, Harry Albus Snape . . .then I will be very disappointed and angry and you will be in serious trouble, am I understood?"

"Like grounded forever?"

"Yes, just like that." He waved his wand and a History of Magic text appeared on the desk. "Take that and begin studying it tomorrow. I've underlined the important parts in red ink."

Harry picked up the book, it was worn and dog-eared. "This isn't my text."

"No, it's mine, from when I was in school. I thought it would be more useful, since I paid attention in class, and actually took notes."

"Thanks, Dad." Harry said sincerely, and this time he could look his father in the eye.

"You're welcome. Use it to learn now what you didn't before. In order to understand the present, you must first understand the past."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, it's getting late, you need sleep. Off to bed with you." And with that, Severus came around the desk and turned his son around and sent him on his way with a firm pat on the behind.

Harry went, clutching the textbook to him, relieved that Draco had been right after all. He still had a whole skin. Even so, this was one confrontation he didn't want to ever repeat, and so he resolved to study harder in all his subjects next year. Hermione would be delighted, and Ron horrified, he thought with a grin. But at least his father wouldn't be disappointed in him. Once, he wouldn't have given two Knuts what Snape thought of him, but now . . .now it was different.

Harry hurried down the hallway, wanting to tell Draco that he was all right, but when he reached their room, he found his foster brother sound asleep. Oh, well. Guess I can let him gloat tomorrow. Then he crawled into his own bed and fell asleep immediately.

"Well, I think Seeker is the worst name I ever heard of," remarked Draco. "Owls don't play Quidditch, you know."

"So what? It's my owlet, I can call him that if I want to," argued Harry. They were in the den, writing down possible names for their baby owls on a sheet of parchment. It had been a week since Hedwig's surprise and they had since moved the new family inside the manor, since the summer rainy season had arrived. Their nest was in a large perch which simulated the oak tree, and the owls had been questioned by Smidgen and told her they had two males and two females, one pure white and two mottled gray and white and one a deep gray with white markings.

Draco had chosen the gray and white male and a mottled female, while Harry had the other mottled male and the snowy female. But both boys were finding it difficult to come up with names for the birds and had decided to brainstorm only that wasn't really working out either.

"Sure, you can call him that, if you want all the owls to make fun of him," snorted Draco.

"Well, Dimwit was terrible too."

"Hey, it's true. Some owls are really stupid, and yours had just nearly fallen out of the nest for the third time. So. . .I'd say Dimwit was appropriate."

"How about Blizzard?"

"That's too common. Everybody with a white owl calls it Blizzard or Snowy or Noel."

Harry thought for a moment. "How about Heartsease?"

Draco made a face. "Ugh! Sounds like a disease."

"It's an herb, dimwit."

"Still sounds like a disease."

"Oh, like you can come up with something better?"

"I can. What about Mystery?"

"Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff's owl is named that." Harry objected.

"How d'you know that?"

"He got a letter during practice with us and that's what he called his owl. Mercury, how about that?"

"Don't like it. Skymaster, what about that?"

Harry shook his head. "That's ridiculous. Sounds like a superhero or something. Lightning Bolt?"

"Like your scar isn't famous enough, you've got to name your owl after you?"

"Hey, it's not my fault the scar is there. Now shut up about it, okay?" Harry ordered, he'd always hated the way people stared at him because of it.

"Touchy, aren't we, Snape?" Draco observed, grinning. "Is it your time of the month again?"

"Don't be a smartass, Draco. You're one to talk. You're in a bitchy mood all the time, like a woman."

His foster brother glared at him. "Takes one to know one, huh, Harriet?"

"You preen in front of the bathroom mirror like a girl, Dracarina."

"At least I won't be mistaken for one." Draco shot back, for the mirror comment had hit a little too close for comfort.

Severus looked up from his potions periodical and said severely, "Boys, if you don't stop this bickering, I'll make you stand in a corner like two preschoolers, since that's about your behavior level."

"Yes, sir," they replied, but each one eyed the other accusingly.

But, being typical teenagers, they kept needling each other, until Severus couldn't take it any longer and snapped, "Enough! Maybe a twenty minute time-out will cool your tongues."

The two glowered at each other, then yelped when their exasperated father grabbed them by an ear and marched first Harry and then Draco to a corner of the den. "Eyes front, nose to the wall, and be silent!"

Rubbing his ear, Draco glared at Harry.

"Draco!"

The Slytherin quickly turned to face the wall, grinding his teeth. He could feel himself flush to the tips of his ears, for he detested when Severus treated him as if he were five again, it was very embarrassing. Though he had to admit, it was also an effective way of snuffing the bickering he always seemed to engage in with Harry.

Harry stared at the wall and cursed his temper and his mouth, he ought to know better than to test Severus like that. Would he ever learn not to let Draco bait him?

The twenty minutes seemed like an eternity, but both apprentices knew better than to fidget, since moving only got you more time. Eventually, the timer Severus had placed near them ran out of sand, and the Potions Master released them. "I want both of you to apologize to each other and since you can't speak without quarreling, you may as well go out and weed the vegetable garden."

Both mumbled apologies, then Harry said, "But sir, it just rained, and it's all wet and muddy."

"Which will make it easier for you to pull weeds," his father pointed out. "If you hadn't started arguing like a pair of four-year-olds, you wouldn't be pulling weeds, next time act your age."

Heaving a sigh, Harry and Draco obeyed, though they continued their previous discussion on names for the owlets as they weeded. It was finally decided that the gray owl would be Phantom and his mottled brother Zephyr. The small mottled female Draco named Athena and Harry called the white owlet Frost.

Having resolved not to quarrel with each other, they picked weeds in silence for a few minutes, the mud squelching as they moved, tugging a weed firmly and then throwing it on the growing pile behind them.

At last Draco ventured, "I wonder who will win the Quidditch World Cup this year? We're hosting it for the first time in I don't know how long, and if I were at Malfoy Manor still, we'd be in the top box, watching it." He sighed longingly. "But the tickets are expensive and I doubt Uncle Sev could afford three good ones, plus you've got to buy them like a half a year in advance."

"Mmm." Harry muttered noncommittally. He would've loved to attend a professional Quidditch match, but circumstances being what they were. . ."Ron told me a bit about it. He said sometimes the Minister himself attends. It's too bad we can't go, but Dad needs to keep a low profile and so do we. Still. . .who's playing in it this year?"

"Ireland versus Bulgaria. Who would you pick to win it?"

"Ireland. They've got the best Chasers." Harry said immediately.

"Maybe so, but you're forgetting who Bulgaria's got as Seeker. Viktor Krum. He's the best there is."

"I didn't forget," Harry disagreed. "But there's more to a good Quidditch team than just the Seeker. Ireland's got more well-rounded players."

"Bulgaria has Marcus Molokov too," Draco argued. "He was named MVC of the year (Most Valuable Chaser) for scoring the most goals in one season. And their Keeper's first rate too."

"I still like Ireland better."

"You're blind, Snape. Don't you know what the Bulgarian mascot is?"

"Uh . . .some kind of magical being?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Merlin, Harry, what kind of Quidditch fan are you that you don't know the Bulgarian mascot's a veela?"

Harry wasn't sure what a veela was, he remembered reading about them once in a periodical. "What's so great about them?"

"What's so GREAT about . . .you've never seen one, have you? ‘Cause if you did then you'd know that they're every man's fantasy. Veela are a race of nymphs, ancient fae women that live to uh, seduce young men. They're gorgeous and they've got a glamour on them that makes any man who looks on them forget everything except sex. You mean to tell me you've never looked at Pearl Similiyovich in Witch-o-Rama?"

"I lived with Muggles, Draco. How was I supposed to get a copy of a porno mag when I couldn't get a copy of the Daily Prophet?"

"Oh. You've got a point there." He glanced about furtively. "Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, but look," the other wizard said, summoning a copy of the magazine with a quick flick of his wand. "If Uncle Sev ever knew I had this . . .I'd be so dead. But look, here's a picture of Pearl, she's half-veela."

Harry peered at the glossy picture, the woman was a knockout, she had thick silvery hair and huge blue eyes and the rest of her . . . "Whoa! She's like . . .amazing!"

"Yeah, tell me about it!" Draco said enthusiastically. "Now d'you see why the Bulgarians are cool? Supposedly they give a pre-game show where the veela dance for the spectators, and it just blows you away. Too bad we have to miss it. Oh well, I can always dream."

"Dream about Slytherin winning the Quidditch final, y'mean?" Harry teased.

"And who's to say we won't? You think you're some kind of Super Seeker, Harry?"

"You said it, not me."

"You wish. This season, Slytherin's going to smoke your Gryffindor arse right out of the pitch, and you won't even know what hit you."

"That before or after I wallop your sorry arse, Malfoy?"

"You'll need to take some flying lessons before you can do that, little brother," smirked Draco.

"I can fly rings around you any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Wait and see."

"How long will I have to wait? Till next year?" hooted Draco. "Because by that time I might just be Captain of my House team and dating Hermione." An instant later, Draco went beet red and clapped a hand to his mouth. "Uh . . .pretend you didn't hear that, okay?"

Harry gaped at him. "Did you just say what I think you said? You . . .like Hermione? You, the ultra pureblood wants to date a Muggleborn? I'm just . . .so shocked!" he clutched his chest dramatically. "Be still, my heart! For Draco hath found his true love . . .like Romeo and Juliet, they are starcrossed and can only meet in the dark behind the humpback witch statue after curfew and . . .what WOULD your mother say, Draco Michael Malfoy?"

By this time, Harry was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

"She'd kick my arse into the street for disgracing the Malfoy name for sure," Draco said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Now that you have ruined the reputation of this Name and dragged it through the mud, young man . . ." he said in a high falsetto tone. "Turned your back on your heritage of darkness, you may leave and take your Mudblood hussy with you."

Draco lifted his nose and pretended to sniff haughtily, and Harry scooped up a clod of dirt from the ground and threw it at the back of Draco's head, just because he felt like it.

It landed a bit off center and struck the other on the back of his lime green T-shirt with a wet splat!

Draco spun around. "Did you just throw dirt at me, Snape?" He advanced on Harry threateningly.

"Gotta get your hands dirty sometime, pretty boy," Harry joked, backing away.

Draco scooped up a glob of mud and lobbed it at Harry.

It hit him in the shoulder with a wet THWAP!

"He shoots, he scores!" Draco cried, punching a fist in the air. "There's dirt on your shirt now, Snape!"

Harry reached down and scooped up more mud, flinging it at his foster brother as quickly as he could, yelling, "Here's mud in your eye, Malfoy!" while laughing.

Draco tried to duck, but the ground where he was standing was very slippery and mucky and he couldn't twist away fast enough to avoid all the mud and ended up with half of it on him. "Now you're in for it, little brother." He crooked his hands into claws and snarled, lunging at Harry and tackling him into the mud.

They landed with a wet splat on the damp earth, and mud splattered all over them. "Ha! The Mud Monster wins!" Draco cheered, until Harry managed to knock Draco away and sit up.

"Only for a minute. Take that!" he rubbed a great glob of mud into Draco's white-blond hair.

Draco sputtered, then tackled Harry to the ground again and playfully rubbed his face in the dirt. Soon the two were covered in mud, looking like walking bogmen come back from the dead and having the time of their lives.

Inside the manor, Severus just happened to glance out the kitchen window at that moment, and saw what looked like the two boys rolling on the ground pummeling each other. The Potions Master felt his temper ignite. I don't believe this! After all of my lectures and warnings, still they're squabbling like two-year-olds! Rotten arrogant little brats! Did they think I was kidding when I said if I caught them fighting again I'd spank them? I never thought they'd go that far again, especially after the last time, but by Merlin's blessed staff, now their backsides are going to regret it, or my name isn't Severus Snape! He was furious that the two could so casually disregard his rules and start this petty bickering all over again and make him punish them in a manner he detested, but it seemed as if it was the only way to get through to them.

He was about to turn away and head outside to break them up when the sound of laughter drifted to him and he took another look and saw the two getting up from the ground, laughing like two loons.

Sev, they're only playing. Not fighting, but playing, like two stupid pigs in a wallow. He heaved a sigh of immense relief and continued watching for a moment, not wanting to interrupt their fun. Harry was now chasing Draco around, pelting mud at the other as he ducked behind the trees, giggling like a mad troll.

A smile tugged at the corners of the stern mouth as he watched his two sons playing like the carefree children they never were. They were having a glorious time, but eventually Severus decided to have a bit of fun of his own and slipped outside, conjured a bucket of icy cold water, and flung it on them as they mudwrestled.

"AHHH!"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!"

Both boys froze, shivering and soaked to the skin, coated in mud.

"What's the big idea, Dad?"

"Uncle Sev! The water's freezing!"

"Just the right temperature to cool you brats off!" chuckled their father wickedly.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then he had a very naughty idea. There was a handful of mud still clutched in his fist, that he had been about to chuck at Draco, when the wicked little thought entered his brain. Should I? Dare I? He'll kill me for sure. But oh, it'll be fun! I must be out of my mind! He thought even as his hand drew back and he sent the large mudball flying directly at the unsuspecting figure.

SPLAT!

The mud hit Snape right in the chest, all black and oozing.

Draco's mouth fell open. Then he smirked and lobbed a missile of his own at his godfather, who was still frozen in shock at his son's daring. That one caught Severus on the leg.

The Potions Master blinked, then his eyes narrowed. "Do you know what this means, children?" he queried in a deadly soft tone.

Draco looked at Harry. "Run, Harry!"

"This means . . .WAR!" bellowed Snape, and in an instant he had gathered two mud balls and threw them with unerring accuracy, nailing Harry in the side of the neck and Draco on the arm. Then he conjured six or seven more and sent them after the boys, who shrieked, "No fair using magic!" and fled.

"All's fair in love and war, brats!" chuckled their father, pursuing them, grinning evilly.

Draco and Harry ran across the lawn, seeking shelter, armed with mud collected from themselves, which they began to throw at Severus, who was now using his wand to shoot jets of water at them as well.

"Harry, we've got to get some kind of strategy going, he's kicking our arses!" Draco yelled, ducking a mudball and a jet of water.

"Like what?" Harry shouted, gasping as a stream of water struck him on the backside, hard enough to sting a little. He jumped and spun around, hitting Severus with a mudball. "Take that, Dad!"

"Catch, brat!"

Three mudballs flew at the young Gryffindor, hitting him simultaneously in the face, neck, and stomach.

But Severus's clever maneuver left him open in return to a sneak attack from Draco, who in a fit of daring to rival his Gryffindor brother, tackled his godfather about the knees and knocked him right into a large puddle of mud and water.

"Go, Draco!" Harry whooped.

Severus reached an arm back and hauled his godson off him, shoving the smirking boy into the mud beside him. "Little sneaking weasel! That'll teach you!" The professor's black robe and trousers were dripping with mud, as was his face and hands, he looked just as bad as his two sons. Before he could retaliate, there came a soft cough from behind and a voice he had not heard in over a year said, "Sun and Stars, can this be Severus Snape, playing in the mud and having fun like a normal person? It's a miracle! Can I play too?"

Severus sprang to his feet and whirled around so fast that clods of mud flew off and hit Draco in the face. "Sarai! Great Merlin! Uh . . ."

"Hello, Sev. Long time no see, but better late than never. And who are these children? Your apprentices?"

"Uh, no, they're my sons. By blood and choice." Severus explained, casting a hasty cleaning charm on himself, then striding forward to embrace the diminutive woman, who had once been his teacher, a half-blood of the Prince line, who was standing there laughing.

As if having their normally reserved and rather strict father suddenly engage in a mud war with them was not surprising enough, seeing him embrace the small woman standing on the lawn was enough to make the two boys wonder if they'd gone to sleep and were still dreaming. Severus rarely initiated hugs, usually they happened because one of the boys went and hugged him first, though he always hugged them in return. But they had both seen with their own two eyes Severus walking over to the woman he called Sarai and hugging her hard enough to lift her part of the way off the ground.

Granted, that was not hard to do, considering the size of the woman, she was barely five feet tall, slender as a child, with a mop of short curly dark hair from which slightly pointed ears protruded. Once Severus had set her down, the boys could see that she also had a slender face with high cheekbones and her eyes were a dark green, tilted ever so slightly at the corners. She was tanned and fit, wearing a set of buttery leather leggings and a tunic that came down to mid thigh, colored nearly the same green as her eyes. About her waist was a worn baldric with a short sword and a dagger and a bow and quiver was slung across her back. She also had hunting boots which came up to her knees with the flaps folded down.

Clothes and weapons were well-worn and comfortable, though Harry's first thought upon seeing her was that she looked no older than a seventh year Hogwarts student, seventeen or eighteen. And this was Dad's teacher? She's so little, she barely comes up to his chest.

Draco too was quite speechless at the sight of the half-fae woman. This woman is the one who supposedly could toss Uncle Sev in the dirt during kin-sa-dor practice? Why, she's no bigger than a third-year! I'm bigger than her, for Merlin's sake! I'll bet I could take her in a spar, she doesn't look all that dangerous.

Sarai's green eyes sparkled as they looked up at her former student, who had since become something other than that to her years before, then she turned to introduce herself to the curious boys who were standing a few feet beyond the Potions Master, caked liberally in mud. "Well, it seems you two got the worst of that little skirmish, eh?" She waved a chiding finger at Severus. "Have pity, Sev, and clean them up, so I may introduce myself properly, won't you?"

Severus nodded, flushing a little, though Draco would have sworn nothing could ruffle his godfather's composure, and chanted a quick Neaten-Up Charm over the two boys, banishing the coating of mud and water and leaving them resembling fourteen-year-olds again instead of mud monsters. "Gentlemen, may I present Lady Sarai Kinsalari Valinek, kin-sa-dor and swordmaster, member of the High Queen's guard and your cousin?"

"Very distant cousin, Severus. About six times removed, on your great-great grandfather's side, near as I can figure it, I was never much good with reading lineage charts." She eyed the two boys with a keen appraisal. "And you are?"

"Draco Malfoy, my lady," answered Draco, giving her a slight bow, as he had been taught when meeting a pureblooded witch of equal rank. "Uncle Sev is my guardian and my godfather."

"Well met, Draco," Sarai said, coming forward to shake Draco's outstretched hand. "And please, do not milady me, that's for those of the court, whom I guard, not me. Plain Sarai will do, or Captain Valinek, if you insist on formality."

Draco soon discovered there was nothing wimpy about the warrior's grip, it was firm like a man's, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw a wisdom and knowledge in them that belied her youthful appearance. Then she turned to Harry. "And you must be Severus's son, anyone with eyes can see you're the spitting image."

"Yes, my lady. I mean Sarai Kinsalari, uh . . ." Harry stammered, trying to recall the rest of her name and feeling like an utter fool. Why couldn't he sound polished and suave like Draco, instead of a bumbling idiot?

"Relax, child. I won't bite you . . .not at first," she teased gently. "Just call me Sarai, all my friends do, it's much easier to pronounce than that awful name my mother stuck me with, which means ‘the moon's shadow darting upon the water'. Ai, Mother what were you thinking?" She shook her head in wry amusement. "Tell me your name, young Snape."

"I . . .I'm Harry, ma'am. Harry Albus Snape."

"Well met, Harry." She shook his hand too, and her green eyes twinkled. "Severus, why did you never tell me you had sons?"

"That's a long story, Sarai, one that's best told over a cup of merlinna juice or summerdew and a plate of scones." Severus invited. "Won't you join me, while the boys finish up weeding the garden like I asked them to?" He sent a pointed glower their way and both of his sons groaned.

"Of course, Severus. Have you ever known me to turn down one of your scones, Potions Master?"

"Not that I can recall," answered the wizard and together they headed inside the manor, leaving the boys outside to finish their aborted task.

q· * * * * * *

" . . .and he chose to send the child back to that abusive environment even after you told him what went on, Sev?" Sarai repeated in astonished anger. "Bright Lady bless, but that's-that's criminal negligence, I think is the term they use nowadays. Even with the Non-Violence Charm upon him, that's not enough to ensure his safety. And your mentor calls himself a white wizard? He may as well put on a Death Eater mask after sending a defenseless child, one who should have been in the care of his father, back to that-that wretched coward." The warrior's hands tightened on the hilt of her sword for a moment and she growled, "That bastard Vernon is lucky he's dead, otherwise I'd have to hunt him down and make him pay threefold for what he's done to Harry."

"Easy, Sarai. I'm sure the devil will take his due, if there is any justice in the next world," soothed Severus.

"True. Death settles all scores, I know that, but I simply cannot stomach any adult mistreating a child, Sev. I've lived too long with my fae kin to ever condone that kind of behavior."

"I know. And I don't condone it either, not in the slightest."

To the fae, every child was precious, a gift to be celebrated and loved and never mistreated or neglected. Sarai had explained to him that the High Court fae did not believe in using much corporal punishment as discipline, in fact the last time she could recall any youngster of her House being punished that way had been one hundred years ago, when her reckless kinsman Gareth had nearly gotten himself and the Queen's then youngest son Aubrey killed by challenging a dark sorcerer of the Unseelie Court to a magical duel. The boys had been about the same age as Severus's two sons, as the fae measured time, full of themselves and itching to test themselves against an Unseelie mage. It was a desire that had been swiftly quenched when her Uncle Thalion had hauled his son over his knee in front of the Queen herself and given him a sound spanking. To this day, her cousin could not recall that incident without going red in acute embarrassment. And that had been over a hundred years ago.

Severus's poor son had endured ten times that, for almost all of his short life, and it made Sarai's blood boil that a kinsman of hers could be so mistreated by one who was supposed to love and protect him. There was simply no understanding humans sometimes, despite the fact that she was part human herself and been friend, mentor, and lover to one for thirteen years.

"You did right to steal him away from there, Severus, and to the crows with what your Headmaster wished. No child should ever endure that."

"I know. And Harry is not the only one. Draco, too, has had his share of mistreatment by his father." Severus said gravely, and then told her Draco's story as well.

"Ah, Sev. It is well those two are here now, with one who will truly love and care for them as they deserve. You are too much alone, beloved, I have said it before. A man needs sons and daughters, to carry on his legacy." She eyed him shrewdly. "Although I'd wager raising them is no stroll through the Starmist Gardens."

"No, not by a long shot. There were days, especially in the beginning, when I was sure I was going to strangle them both, for all they did was fight nonstop. But I took your advice, and remembered how you dealt with your apprentices that quarreled that way, and it worked."

"Good. Though you look like you could use a nice long walk or a swim in the moonlight. When was the last time you took some time for yourself, Sev?"

"I can't remember. And you're a fine one to talk about that, Captain. How many months has it been since you've stopped guarding and took some time off?" countered Snape.

"Too damn long. I'm as guilty as you are of working until I drop," Sarai admitted with a crooked grin. "You know what my kinsmen say of me, Sev. There's duty, honor, and Sarai, you can't have one without the other. That's always been my life, I wander and I guard those in need, it is only here that I am able to relax."

He shot her an arch look over his cup. "Did you miss me then?"

"Need I answer that? I take my honor with me wherever I go, and my duty also, but my heart I leave with you, and know that it shall be waiting here when I return. I have been all over the realms, but there is nowhere I call home save here, and well you know it, sorcerer mine!" she laughed throatily.

"I'm glad to hear that, because for a moment I had feared you had forgotten about me," he teased.

"No more than I could forget how to wield a sword," she replied, then she came around the table and kissed him ardently.

The kiss lasted perhaps four seconds all told, but it felt like an eternity of ecstasy, as the two celebrated Sarai's return to the manor as they always had.

When at last she drew away, the half-fae was slightly breathless and smiling. "I guess you didn't forget all I taught you, huh, Sev?"

He laughed quietly. "All you taught me, lady? I was no novice when I came to you that midsummer's eve. I daresay I taught you more than a little, Wanderer. A warrior has little time for love, was that not what you said?"

"Nor does a wizard spy, yet we managed to steal a few weeks here and there. I would be glad to do so again, save for the children."

"Yes. I must tell them about us soon, Sarai."

"That was my thought as well, for I refuse to sneak about and play adolescent games here in my own home. I'm grown long beyond fifteen, Potions Master."

"I'll speak to them first, Sarai. They are old enough to understand, and old enough to accept as well. I hope."

"Until then, I shall cultivate another warrior attribute. Patience." Then she kissed him again. "Just don't make me wait too long," she added, with another mischievous smirk.

"Sarai! Have you no shame?"

"With you, I am shameless," she chuckled. "You know me as well as I know myself, and I love you, Sev. Now, forever, and always."

"And I love you too, bright Blade."

Her words, which he had heard a dozen times before, but never tired of hearing again, warmed his heart. It never failed to astonish him that she, who had been warrior and mage for over two hundred years, and had seen more of life than he ever would, could love him so very much. And there was no doubt in his mind that she loved him, for she was too honorable to pretend to an affection she didn't feel.

And he, in turn, loved her more than he had ever thought possible to love anyone save Lily. She had done for him something no one else ever had, she had given him back the heart he had buried in a grave with a red-haired witch fourteen years ago. He had been careful, however, to hide that love, so it didn't interfere with his duty as Dumbledore's agent, but now that was no longer necessary. He was no longer a spy, just a teacher with two sons and there was no need for him to guard his feelings so fiercely save from force of habit.

He planned to speak with both boys tomorrow, letting them get used to their new visitor tonight, before telling them the truth, that his former teacher was also his lover and had been for seven years. Duty and obligation to family and the Order had kept them apart for much of that time, but it had not dimmed their love, and now that his warrior had returned, Severus had no intention of denying himself and Sarai time alone for a few hours each day and night.

By the time the boys were done weeding and had come in to get washed up and eat something, Sarai and Severus were on their second cups of juice and tea, respectively. Sarai had also polished off three blueberry scones, for despite being small, she had a voracious appetite, though she rarely needed to watch her weight since she had an incredibly high metabolism due to her fae ancestry and she was very active.

She chatted with the two apprentices as they ate, telling them amusing anecdotes and stories about her duties as a bodyguard-"We call those in my profession Blades," she explained. "Because we are as sharp and keen as a blade and we know how to use them too."

"Sarai? Have you ever . . .uh . . .killed anyone in self-defense?" asked Harry quietly.

"Yes," she said seriously. "My job is to protect those who hire me, which are mostly my family, and sometimes I must kill in order to do that. It is not something I particularly like, but nevertheless I can do it. I began training to be a Blade around your age or a little younger."

"And how old are you now, Sarai?" asked Draco curiously, earning himself a pointed glare for his audacity from his godfather.

But the warrior was not offended, the way a human woman would have been. Sarai was not self-conscious about growing old, since she aged much slower than any human. "I am two hundred and ten years old, young Draco, not so very old the way my people measure time. I am around the same age as a human of twenty-eight or thirty."

Draco whistled and Harry just looked at her. "Uh, excuse me for saying so, ma'am, but you don't look all that old."

This time Sarai did laugh, and her laughter was like music. "Why, thank you, Harry. As a half-blood, like our ancestor Severus Prince, time's hand rests lightly upon me. And a good thing too, else Sev would lose interest in me."

"Now, Sarai, looks aren't everything," Severus reminded.

"True, some of the worst people I know were also some of the handsomest. A fair face can conceal a foul heart and vice versa. That is a truth all us fae folk know."

:Indeed, Captain Valinek. And it still is true.: said Smidgen, returning from her visit to see her kin beyond the Evermist and report in to Queen Titania, informing her of the lifedebt owed the heir to Prince Manor and his son.

"Smidgen!" exclaimed Sarai. "So this is where you've been hiding, dreamweaver!"

:Not hiding, Lady Sarai, but recovering from an attack by a lurk. It nearly finished me, were it not for young Harry and Severus, I would not be here to tell the tale.: the shimmerling interjected, hovering just above the table. :I owe them a lifedebt and am in their service until it is paid.:

"You picked some good wizards to be in debt to, shimmerling." Sarai told her. "There is none more honorable than Severus Snape. And if I had to guess, I'd say his son is the same."

:Too true, Sarai. And who would know better than you about honor, Captain?: teased the dreamweaver.

"Please, Smidgen," Sarai groaned. "I am more than my honor, you know."

"Very much more,"agreed Severus, and there was a warmth in his voice that neither Harry or Draco had ever heard before.

It made them wonder, but neither of them dared to ask their father such a personal question. But Harry was curious enough to ask Sarai what she had meant by that last comment, and the half-blood replied, "I have a reputation for being a stickler for honor and justice among my kin, which is true. I developed it long ago as a way to shield myself from the taunts of half-blood and inferior half-human that some of the Court called me, both to my face and behind my back. The Valinek-Prince line is not always the easiest family to be born into, we do things differently than most High Court families, and as a result they label us "odd" and "outsider". And my own parents, theirs is a romance fit for a Shakespearean play, I'm afraid."

"Really? Why?" asked Draco.

"Because two hundred and ten years ago, my father, fae lord Gwydion Valinek, he was named for our other ancestor, fell in love with a mortal woman, Juliana Cantorelli, who was promised to another man, and he stole her heart and her away. There is even a song written about them." Sarai rolled her eyes. "My cousin wrote it, it's awful doggerel, but honestly meant, for true love is rare among my fae kin, who do not give their hearts easily, especially to fragile mortals."

"Fragile mortals?" Draco repeated.

Sarai elaborated at the other's confused tone. "My fae kindred regard you humans as fragile because you live such short lives and can die from war, famine, and disease. High Court fae are nearly immortal, they live centuries and never get sick and can only be slain by violent death, grief, magic, or iron."

"Oh. I guess when you look at it that way, we are kind of . . .fragile," Draco conceded reluctantly.

"But we make up for our shortened lifespan by being passionate and eager to try and do new things, unlike some of our fae kin, who resist the slightest bit of change." Severus interjected.

"Very true. Your passion is one reason why I love coming into the World Beyond." Sarai said, and flashed the professor one of those mysterious glances-that Harry was almost certain was a passionate one. He shook his head. He was probably misreading it, what did he know of passion, after all? He had never experienced it, and he couldn't picture Severus with anyone but his mother and he had a hard time doing that.

"Sarai, was your father promised in marriage as well?" Draco wanted to know. As he knew quite well, such was usually the case among the nobility.

"No, he was not. As I said before, the Prince-Valinek line is regarded as quaint, and some would say tainted by mixing human blood with that of the fae. So not many Noble Houses wish to ally themselves with us. And my father was not contracted, so he was free to choose where and whom he liked. His parents were a bit shocked at his choice, but they accepted my mother eventually."

"Is she still, uh, alive?" asked Harry.

"Yes, she is aging gracefully, thanks to the time difference Underhill, but she can never set foot in the mortal realm again, or she will die. But she does not wish to go back, she is content to remain with my father. With those two as parents, the love match of the century, I'm sure you figured that when I was born, people made a great deal of me, calling me cute and princess, telling me that someday I might find a love like Mother's, if I looked long enough." Sarai chuckled. "But I was never a typical girl, I liked sports and fencing and I wanted to be a warrior. And a warrior isn't known for her cuteness. So I kept reminding my family when they called me that that a warrior wasn't cute, she was honorable. And I worked hard to become a warrior, until my kinsmen said, "there's duty and honor, and Sarai."

"Uh, are you allergic to iron like Smidgen?" was Harry's next thought.

"No, though I don't like to handle it, it won't hurt me. My human blood protects me from iron poisoning." Sarai said. "My blades are all made of silveron, a silver-based alloy, so if another fae handles them, they won't be harmed."

"Enough questions for now," Severus ordered. "Let the poor woman eat before you start grilling her, Harry and Draco." During their conversation, the older wizard had made sandwiches for everyone, though thus far they'd been too busy talking to eat them.

The boys shrugged and picked up their own discarded sandwiches, practically inhaling them.

"I don't mind, Sev. Questions are the way you learn, after all." Sarai said, working on her own sandwich.

"I know, but they don't need to badger you."

"If they were, I'd have told them so." Sarai said evenly. She turned to the two young wizards. "I will be staying here for a week, just so you know. I will have plenty of time to answer any questions you may have about me or Blades or the Faerie Realm in general."

Harry and Draco exchanged surprised glances. A guest at the manor. That was a first. Though Sarai was a relation, so perhaps she had stayed here before. She certainly seemed familiar with the manor, she seemed quite at home there in the kitchen. Of course it went without saying that they now would have to be on their best behavior, for Severus would expect no less of them.

So they cleared up after lunch without being told, earning themselves a compliment from Severus for doing so, and then Sarai asked her former student if he would like to spar with her using kin-sa-dor. Severus considered, then at last he agreed.

"Can we watch, Dad?" begged Harry.

"Please, Uncle Sev?" Draco pleaded, giving his godfather one of his best puppy-dog stares.

"Very well. But no talking."

The boys nodded and agreed and then they all made their way to the practice room.

They seated themselves on the bench along the wall, waiting eagerly for the spar to begin. First, the two removed their shoes and boots, and then did the usual warm-up stretches and meditation exercises for twenty minutes. Finally, they squared off against each other, bowed respectfully, and then they fought.

Watching Severus and Sarai spar was better than watching the Potions Master work out against Voldy. For one thing, Sarai was a thousand times better than Voldy at being unpredictable and she danced through forms that Draco whispered to Harry he never even knew existed.

It had been quite some time since he had played the Game of Shadows-as a kin-sa-dor practice was sometimes called-with a master and thus Severus was doubly on his guard and wary. He used both his mundane and magical senses to predict where Sarai would be next and what form her attack would take.

Even so, she managed to catch him two or three times by surprise and score on him. Like he did with his own students, she did not use her full strength when they sparred, and neither did he, but if a blow landed it did hurt. But Severus shrugged off the sting, using it as a goad to do better and as warning that he had grown sloppy.

Ten minutes became twenty and as the session went on, Draco and Harry were on the edge of their seats, for the two were so good they could make themselves vanish without magic and moved like shadows, quick, lithe, and graceful. Breathless, the two apprentices watched until the two opponents were exhausted, or so it seemed, and had fought each other to a standstill.

"Looks as though you remember what I taught you very well, Severus," his former teacher praised, flinging a stray curl out of her eyes.

"And why wouldn't I? I have an excellent memory, Amarsi Sarai. And teaching my sons keeps me sharp as well."

Sarai walked about for a few minutes, cooling down, then she looked appraisingly at the boys and asked, "Would either of you care to test yourself against me?"

"Yes, ma'am!" they cried, and practically leaped off the bench.

Fifteen minutes later, both youngsters were panting and aching, as they discovered that Sarai's small size was no disadvantage when it came to fighting them. She allowed them to attack her simultaneously, knowing they would never last in a one on one session, but even then they barely managed to hurt her.

She slowed her attacks down so they could counter them, but even so, Harry found she was devilishly quick. He blinked and she was slapping him alongside the head, he lunged, and met empty air, she was off countering Draco's form with one quick hand motion.

Nor could they sneak up on her. They tried multiple times, and she always seemed to know what they were up to, and avoided their trap neatly. "Focus," she snapped while battling off Draco's snap kick, then coming out of the block to flip Harry over her shoulder. "Focus is key. Focus on your enemy, and you will see patterns. Lose focus and he will have you."

"How do you do that?" cried Draco, ducking her return punch. "How can you know what we're going to do?"

"Over a century of experience, young Malfoy," she replied shortly, knocking him over with a Gryphon Combination. She tapped his throat with two stiffened fingers. "And you're dead. Match."

"What about Harry?" asked the defeated teenager, accepting her hand up from the mat.

Sarai whirled just in time to catch Harry's sneak attack. "Good try, young Snape."

Harry grinned.

"Just not good enough." She added, then returned his attack with a quick Wyvern's Strike, forcing him to duck and back away, defending frantically.

"How'd Dad ever beat you?" Harry panted.

"It took him years of practice," she answered, "killing" him with a single upthrust palm to his nose, which she pulled at the last minute, so his nose merely stung instead of shattering. "And you're dead too. Match."

Harry rubbed his nose, wincing a little, and thought that Sarai was a much harder teacher to spar with than Severus. Severus was tough, but he allowed them to score sometimes, but Sarai gave no quarter when she fought, and her return strikes were no love taps. He knew he was going to need a good hot shower tonight and so would Draco, he'd wager.

"You did well, young ones, for a beginning session," the half-fae warrior said then, a faint smile crossing her face. "We'll see if you improve by the end of the week."

"By the end of the week, I'll be lucky if I can still walk," muttered Draco, rubbing his shoulder where Sarai had punched him.

"You wanted to spar with the master, Draco," Severus reminded him, without a trace of pity. "Don't complain to me that it was harder than you thought. If you're serious about improving, you need to learn to endure a little pain."

"Yes, sir," his son muttered, a bit irritably.

"Take a long hot bath, it'll soothe your bruises and your pride too," advised the kin-sa-dor master. "Kin-sa-dor is not an easy discipline to master, it takes years of intense training and practice, and it was originally designed for fae reflexes and musculature, not human ones. You are both lucky you can perform the forms as well as you do, probably due to your fae ancestry. It was not easy for me either when I first started. If you think I'm fast, you should have seen my master, Gladion Shimmerswift. He could take me apart in three moves, in the blink of an eye. Even now, were he still alive, I doubt if I could match him in a true fight, for all of my mastery status."

Harry whistled, for he found it hard to imagine anyone besting the woman standing beside him. Perhaps once that had been true, when she had been a student like him, but now? He bowed to her before exiting the mat and grabbing his shoes. "I call the shower first, Draco," he yelled over his shoulder, then went out the door before his brother could protest.

Draco followed, muttering about Gryffindors acting like Slytherins.

Severus and Sarai watched them go, then the warrior turned to her wizard beloved and said, "I could use a nice hot bath also, Sev. And an extra pair of hands to wash my back too."

He smiled. "Is that a request, Captain?"

"What do you think, Potions Master?" she chuckled. "Tell me, do you still have that hot tub in your bathroom?"

"You know quite well that I do. And it's big enough for two, as you ought to remember from last time."

She laughed up at him. "I remember very well, Wizard Snape. It was a most memorable experience. Shall we see if the third time's the charm, Sev?"

"Need you ask?" he smirked, then Apparated her directly into the bathroom, where the hot tub waited.

* * * * * *

Later on that night, weary and sore but pleasantly tired, the two boys lounged upon their beds, watching Stormy and Hedwig feed their brood. They had seen the owlets eat countless times before, but it never failed to draw their attention. The little owls were getting their first pinfeathers now and beginning to resemble the adult owls more and more.

Harry was watching his small gray and white one, that he had called Zephyr, swallow a small vole, when an idea came to him. "I think I'm going to give one of my owlets to Ron. He's always wanted his own owl, and he'll be real shocked when I give him Zephyr."

"Gee, I wonder why?" mocked Draco softly.

Harry shot him an angry look. "Don't be such a snob, big brother. It's hardly Ron's fault he usually gets everything secondhand. But I never got him a birthday present, couldn't get out of the house at the Dursleys to go and shop, so maybe this will make up for it."

"I'd say." Draco said haughtily. Then he dropped the scion of Malfoy Manor attitude and asked hesitantly, "Uh, Harry? D'you think Hermione would . . .uh, like one of my own owlets? I know she doesn't have one, since she's got a cat and she always uses the school owls to send letters." He flushed a brilliant scarlet.

"Sure, Draco. And you could deliver a love note along with the owl," said Harry, who couldn't resist teasing his brother.

"Aw, shut up, Harry!"

Harry hid a grin, then focused on the white owlet he'd named Frost. She was growing rapidly and would soon be able to hunt by herself. "Seriously, though, I think she'd like it a lot." Speaking of birthdays, he recalled that he hadn't given his father a present either. "And maybe Dad would like a new owl too." Severus's last owl had been killed by Voldemort and he had never bothered to get a new one. "I could give him Frost."

Draco shook his head. "No, Frost is cool, but she's not really the owl I'd have picked for him. I was thinking more like Phantom, he's dark gray and I think he would get along with Uncle Sev."

"Hmm . . .yeah, guess you're right." Harry nibbled his lower lip, then said diffidently, "Umm, Draco, if you're going to give Dad Phantom, can I sort of put my name on the card, so he knows it's from the both of us?"

"Okay. Whatever!"

"But I think we should wait a little longer before we give them away," Harry suggested. "Not until the end of the summer, then they'll have their feathers and can start delivering the mail."

"Fine. But are you gonna keep Frost?"

"I . . .don't know. I may. It depends," Harry answered honestly. He really liked Frost and knew it would be hard to part with her. "You're giving Hermione Athena, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason. I think she'll love Athena."

Draco whistled happily, then said, "But I'm not signing my name to her, so don't even think about breathing a word to Hermione about who sent it. Otherwise I'll hex you into next week, little brother."

Harry made a face at him. "Even I'm not that cruel. Besides, she'd never believe me. Have you ever even spoken to her before? Except to insult her?"

"Like a real conversation? No, of course not. I'm a pureblood and it wouldn't have been proper for me to associate with a Muggleborn. At least according to my father. Cardinal sin in his book. Now though . . .maybe I could . . .uh, say something . . .I guess. . ." said the other awkwardly. Like what, Malfoy? Hi, how's the weather? How many books have you read from the library in the past week? Would you like to go out for an ice cream, perhaps? Ha! I'd be lucky if she didn't throw the ice cream right in my face.

"I'll put in a good word for you," Harry offered.

"Humph! Please, just let me handle it. The last thing I need is for you to interfere." Then he added, more gently. "Thanks for offering, though."

"Just remember one thing, Draco."

"What?"

"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady," Harry smirked, laughing softly.

Draco promptly threw a pillow at him.

But before it could escalate into a full-scale pillow fight, Harry left to use the bathroom.

It was just down the hall and as he was coming out of it, he saw Severus entering his room, accompanied by Sarai. His jaw dropped. Holy Merlin! Tell me I didn't just see that! He invited her into his room at night. Not only that but he . . .he smiled at her too! I don't believe this.

He quickly made his way back to his room, where he immediately told Draco what he had seen. The Slytherin was a bit more worldly and wasn't quite so surprised. "They've probably been together for years, Harry. Didn't you notice the way Sarai knew where everything was in the manor? Or the way she looked at Uncle Sev?"

"Yeah, but . . .aren't we related?"

"By a very distant relationship, she's our seventh cousin or something. It's not like they're committing incest."

Harry felt himself turn beet red at the other's frank words. Of course he knew Severus would never do that, but just admitting that his father was having an affair or whatever it was called made him feel confused. Severus had always seemed so . . .self-contained, so controlled, and self-possessed that Harry had never even thought of his father needing a woman in that way. He recalled the way Severus had looked just before he closed the door, the older wizard had been smiling and in his eyes had been affection and passion and . . .dare he think it? Love.

"How come he didn't tell us?"

"How should I know? Why don't you ask him, tomorrow morning, of course!"

Harry heaved a sigh and resolved to do just that come the morning.

* * * * * *

Much later, Potions Master and Blade were lying upon the huge four poster bed, snuggled next to each other, sleepy and content after their lovemaking, when Sarai asked curiously, "So, how are you finding your new role as father to two teenagers, Sev?"

"Are you sure you want an answer to that question, Sarai?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow to see her face better, he hated talking to a person's back.

"Do you think you'll shock me, my dear? You forget, I've seen two centuries come and go."

"Yes, but not all that time was spent in the World Beyond."

"And you think my fae kin knew nothing about child rearing? Or scandal? Oh, Severus, scandal was bred in the High Queen's court, and rumors fly quicker than shimmerlings on a mission there. I might have grown up in the shadow of the great noble Houses, but I had servants aplenty to tell me gossip long before I should have known such things," she laughed, her deep green eyes twinkling. "Tell me, beloved, what insane stunts did those two pull to vex you? For they've the look of two bred to mischief and mayhem, or I'm no swordmaster."

"And then some, lady! If I attempted to list all the mischief those two pulled over the course of the summer, we'd be here for another month. Suffice to say they made me long to either rip my hair out, turn them over my knee, lock them up until they were seventeen, or bash my head into a wall."

"Poor Sev! Welcome to parenthood. According to my cousin, who has four young ones, she longs to do just that every other day, especially when they're fighting like dragonets over just about everything. She says there is no better test of a ruler or a sorceress than to be a mother. You need skills in discipline, diplomacy, patience, and observation, as well as lightning reflexes and eyes in the back of your head. And also love, forgiveness, and a sense of humor."

"She is one-hundred percent correct," Severus agreed wholeheartedly. "Although, by the time Harry and Draco finish Hogwarts, I may need a good therapist too." He then proceeded to tell her about some of the endless quarrels the two had when Draco had first arrived at the manor, and then he moved on to discussing Harry's reoccurring nightmares as well.

"I considered calling you at one point, his anxiety attacks were terrifying, and I didn't know what to do about them without using Legilimency and I was afraid if I did that, I'd do more harm than good. Thank the Lord that Smidgen ended up in the garden and we managed to save her, for she turned out to be an unexpected blessing."

"Fortunate indeed, Smidgen is a dreamweaver of impeccable reputation among her kind, and a favorite of Titania." Sarai informed him, then she frowned up at him. "But you could have called me, Severus, and I would have come. How many times do I have to tell you, my duty takes second place to you, if you need me, Severus Snape?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Captain. One fourteen-year-old boy's nightmares cannot be as important as your work for your Queen."

"Why not? Especially if the boy is your son? Severus, you know the value we place upon our offspring, yours no less than any other fae's. Besides which, I was not spending the summer guarding Titania, but her feckless son, Prince Balin. And Balin has just reached the age of majority and decided to celebrate his new status of a century by attending every revel in a hundred mile radius of the Crystal Palace. My so-called duty consisted of dragging my cousin home from midnight parties by his pointed drunken ear and settling his account with all the taverns and some of the hosts he insulted by trying out the favors of all the starstruck daughters and nieces we met along the way."

Severus's eyebrow climbed into his hair. "He was barhopping and wenching with you accompanying him? Great Merlin!"

"Yes, that about sums it up." Sarai rolled her eyes. "And no matter how many times I lectured him the morning after, he was right back to his rogue ways by the evening. And I was left to soothe the outraged fathers, uncles, and brothers, all of whom were NOT amused by their prince's cavalier attitude towards their ladies. A bit of flirting is one thing, or a few kisses in the moonlight, but taking a well-bred lady like a dog in heat in a hayloft, no. And most of those girls were unable to say no, since he was their sovereign's son, and they didn't want to risk insulting him. Young idiot! And when he wasn't seducing, he was guzzling summerdew like there was no tomorrow at all his friends' fancy parties. Talk about longing to thrash someone till they howled! Balin didn't need a bodyguard, he needed a good punch in the jaw. Too bad I'm sworn not to harm those I protect," the warrior grumbled balefully. "I'd have gratefully come and helped your poor son out with his nightmares rather than go scouring another tavern for my errant prince, Sun and Stars bear witness!"

"Tell me he's not the heir to the throne."

"No, thank heaven! But if anything ever happens to his mother and his elder brothers and sister, he will be king, and may the Fates have mercy upon us should that ever happen. We'll be known as the Court of Endless Revels and the Unseelie will run rampant through the kingdom because our sovereign is too busy playing to run his realm." She made the sign to avert bad luck. "And then I'm resigning and moving here permanently, because I won't be able to abide the court any more."

"You could do that now, bright Blade. You are always welcome in my home and my heart." Severus persuaded, kissing her passionately. That was as close as he would ever come to pleading.

"Were it not for the vow I swore to Titania upon my ascension to Captain, to serve the throne for twenty years, I would do just that in a heartbeat. Cernunnos' Horns, Sev, but I have missed you so much! Shepherding my fool cousin all summer only made me want you more. He has no idea what it means to have a true relationship. Or to sacrifice that which you love best for duty and honor for years on end."

"Neither does any boy that age."

"Not even you, Sev?" teased Sarai, kissing him lightly on the nose.

"I was never that age, Sarai. Oh, in years yes, but I was grown up far before then, thanks to my father and Lucius. Love was never a casual thing for me, then or now. It was special, the one pure thing in my life, and I treasured it. It was my saving grace. And it still is." He drew her down on top of him and whispered throatily, "I missed you as well, warrior. Shall I show you just how much?"

Her reply was smothered by his kiss, that stole her breath, but the language of the heart is one without words, and he understood her perfectly.

The next morning, Harry awoke at six thirty, for he knew he had to get up at that time in order to speak to Severus about what he had witnessed last night privately. It didn't really bother him, waking up that early, for he had been conditioned to wake early from the time he was a little child by Petunia, who had not wanted her nephew to feel her husband's hand so much, and so taught him how to wake quickly and early. Harry had always been the first awake of all his Housemates, except occasionally one of the girls. It was something he probably would never grow out of, even here, when Severus allowed them to sleep in until seven-thirty or eight-thirty.

Thus he left Draco slumbering peacefully and slipped out of bed and into a pair of loose pants and a shirt and some soft shoes. Hedwig and the owlets were all sleeping peacefully in the nest and Stormrider had gone out to hunt at dawn and still hadn't returned, though Harry knew there was nothing on the manor grounds that would harm the big predator.

Harry headed down to the kitchen, figuring he would find Severus there making tea or coffee or out in the garden watering his herbs. And if he wasn't in either of those places, he was probably in the potions lab or the library. Or maybe he's still in bed with Sarai, the naughty part of his mind hissed, and Harry sternly told it to shut up. He knew perfectly well what had probably gone on during the night, but he shied away from thinking about his father in those terms, it was just too embarrassing. Yet at the same time, he wanted Severus to explain just what relationship he had with the half-fae warrior, so Harry knew where he stood with her.

He had just reached the kitchen, finding it lit by one of the ever-spelled Lumos globes, but empty of anyone, and was preparing to search the garden when Smidgen popped into view. The shimmerling was fully healed now, and she could now fly and blink from place to place as she wished. She hovered now just before Harry, her turquoise and violet wings glistening in the early morning sunlight coming into the kitchen.

:Good morning, Harry. I trust you slept peacefully.:

"Yeah, I did, thanks for asking, Smidgen. I haven't had a nightmare in a week or more. I guess I can consider my debt to you canceled."

:No, Harry. Aiding you with conquering your fears and severing the dark bond was good, but it still doesn't repay the debt you are owed,: Smidgen disagreed.

"But why not? I think you've done plenty, dreamweaver."

:That is not for you to decide, youngling. A lifedebt must be settled to satisfaction of both parties, and I say it has not been paid enough yet. Therefore, I shall be staying at the manor until this is resolved.: the shimmerling said firmly.

"Oh. All right. Uh, Smidgen, do you and Sarai know each other?"

:Yes, indeed. Sarai is a member of the Seelie Court and the Queen's personal bodyguard as well. I am the Queen's messenger, and I know most of her advisors and such. Sarai is a well-respected member of Titania's court now, due to her status as Blade.:

"She said that the other fae say "Duty, honor, and Sarai, you can't have one without the other."

"I'll bet they won't. After what she did to me during the day, I'm not surprised. I still ache." Harry groaned, trying to garner sympathy from the shimmerling.

Harry shrugged. "Looking for my dad. I, uh, have to ask him about Sarai. I think she's a whole lot more than what he told us."

Smidgen switched her tail, then said, :And does that bother you, young Snape? That your father may have taken a companion? You know, your father is still a man and even he gets lonely I would imagine.:

"Yeah, but . . .why now?"

:Why NOT now, Harry? He has been alone all summer, without adult companionship, and even though he may seem like a man who is content to be by himself, I can assure you he needs someone as much as any other man or woman, maybe even more so. He has led a very dangerous and lonely life, without recognition for the most part or rewards either. And now he is also responsible for keeping you and Draco safe and providing for you. Do you not think that he deserves some time for himself and someone he cares about to share it with? Someone who is his equal and not his son?:

Harry blinked, for the shimmerling's tone was reproving, and he frowned and said, accusingly, "He's my father, that's what he's supposed to do. Did you know about them, Smidgen?"

:A messenger knows many things, young Snape, which she is often not at liberty to reveal. This particular thing was not my secret to tell, though I was aware that Sarai did have a mortal wizard as a lover, I did not know who it was until just recently, when I saw her with Severus. She too, has been alone for much of her life, and misunderstood by the majority of those she interacts with. Being a half-blood in any world is no easy thing, nor a warrior of Sarai's caliber. Few men are there in either realm who would not feel threatened by her fire and finesse, and seek to tame her. It is why she chose to be alone, until she met Severus, who it seems, loves her for herself alone. Both of them have sacrificed much in their lives, child, why should you begrudge them a little peace and happiness?:

" I don't . . ." Harry began.

:Don't you? Isn't there a small selfish part of you that's whispering, but now I have to share my father all over again, and I wish she'd never come here? Be honest, Harry.:

The fourteen-year-old bit his lip, though try as he might, he could not deny that Smidgen was right on target. A tiny corner of his heart did resent the fact that Sarai was such an important part of Severus's life, at least from what he had seen thus far. And he had to admit that he had never considered that Severus might be lonely and in need of another adult around, or that he might miss someone with whom he had grown fond of. Severus was just . . .the Potions Master and former spy, who had always been alone and never needed anyone except himself. Except . . .perhaps, if he was being totally honest with himself . . .he had been wrong to think that way.

"All right, maybe I was being a little selfish, but I thought he loved my mother, Smidgen."

:Harry, how long has Lily been dead?:

"Huh? What's that matter?"

:Please answer my question.:

"A little over thirteen years, I guess."

:Ah. Thirteen years. Would you not say that is a long time to be alone? The woman he loved has been dead for nearly two decades and in all of that time he has been without someone to love. At least until he met Sarai and even then she was teacher before she was his lover for many years. I'm going to ask that you do a difficult but mature thing, Harry, and consider your father's feelings before you go demanding an explanation from him like a petulant eight-year-old. He has been under a tremendous amount of stress lately and he needs this time with Sarai, both of them do, to relax. Do try and understand that.:

Now Harry felt ashamed, for he had been going to ask that Severus explain to him about Sarai, call him to account in a way, for inviting a woman into the manor and being disloyal to Lily's memory. The young wizard felt himself flush to the roots of his hair. Merlin's Eyebrow, but would he never stop jumping to conclusions and acting on impulse? Smidgen was right, he had been acting selfishly and not considering Severus's side of things at all.

"You're right. I was being stupid and thoughtless."

:No, not stupid, but thoughtless and foolish, yes. A common failing in boys your age.: Smidgen said quietly.

"Are you gonna give Draco this lecture too when he gets up?" he asked, a bit petulantly.

:If he seems to need it, then yes. Forgive me if I seem forward, but I have grown fond of you Princes during my time here, and I would hate to see you quarrel over such a ridiculous thing as this-a relationship which has been going on for years and makes your father happy, and could make you happy as well. Sarai loves children and she would make a very good mentor and a mother as well, should she ever consent to marriage.:

"Why haven't they gotten married, Smidgen?"

:Ah, that is something you need to ask your father, for I don't know the facts, only rumors.: The shimmerling twitched her whiskers. :As a matter of fact, here he comes now, so I shall leave you to your discussion.:

Then Smidgen blinked away, going out to sun herself in the garden, just as Severus returned from watering it, and nearly ran headfirst into Harry. The startled Potions Master reached out a hand to clasp his son's shoulder. "Harry? Is something the matter? Did you have another nightmare?" For he knew perfectly well that Harry should have been sleeping at this hour, since Severus had not scheduled any tasks that needed doing at the break of dawn.

"No, it's not that." Harry hastened to reassure him. "It's just . . .can I talk to you about something, Dad?"

"Certainly. Is this something that requires a few minutes or longer than that?"

"Uh . . .longer." Harry admitted, blushing.

"I see." The Potions Master noted the telltale blush and had a feeling he knew the topic of conversation. "I'm going to put the tea kettle on and we can go into the den, it's more suitable for a long discussion."

He waved his wand, casting a spell that would make the tea fix itself and levitate to them when it was ready. Then he led the way into the den and seated himself on the sofa.

Harry followed, and sat a scant two feet away, studying the floor and his socks for a moment before clearing his throat. "Uh . . .I was just wondering . . .if you and Sarai are . . .involved with each other?" he stammered, feeling his whole face flame. "Because last night . . .I wasn't trying to spy on you or nothing, Dad-"

"Anything." Severus corrected automatically.

"I was-what?"

"Anything. You weren't trying to spy on me or anything, not nothing," Severus elaborated. "You teenagers today butcher the English language and I cannot stand it."

"Oh. Sorry. Errr . . .where was I?"

"You were telling me about last night," his father prompted.

"Right. Anyway, I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything, Dad, but I was coming out of the bathroom, and I saw you and Sarai . . .together . . .by your room . . .and I just wanted to know if you're, uh, going out with her?" Harry finished at last. He darted a swift glance up at the older man, wanting to see if Severus was angry with his forwardness or not.

But the professor did not seem angered by his son's personal query. Instead he looked . . .faintly amused and unsurprised. "I should have seen this coming. It's impossible to keep secrets for long in this manor, not that our relationship has ever been secret, at least to the fae. The whole Seelie Court knows about it." mused the Potions Master. He looked directly at Harry then. "To answer your question, my too-curious son, yes, Sarai and I are involved, as you put it. For many years now. Where's your brother?" he asked abruptly.

"Asleep."

"Of course. If I'm going to discuss this with you, Harry, I would prefer it if Draco were awake as well, so I need not repeat myself. Go and wake him up."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Go on."

"He isn't going to like it much," Harry sighed, then rose to do as he had been bid.

Ten minutes later he returned to the den, followed by a rather grumpy Draco, who was rubbing his eyes and yawning. "What is it with you people and the crack of dawn, by Merlin's Toenail? Why can't we ever have a discussion at a normal hour, like six thirty at night?"

"Quit your grousing and just listen, Draco," ordered Severus briskly. "You can catch up on your beauty sleep afterwards."

Draco flashed him an irritated glare, but said nothing further and sat down on the other side of his guardian. "Okay, I'm listening."

"Wonderful," Severus returned, with just a hint of his old sarcasm. "Very well. The reason I've called you here, Draco, is because Harry noticed something last night that I need to clarify."

"He saw you and Sarai making out in the hallway, I don't really need details, Uncle Sev," Draco put in hastily. "I know what comes after that, I'm not five." He too was blushing faintly.

"I never said they were making out!" Harry objected.

"You said he looked like he was going to kiss her, and that's as good as making out right there," Draco argued.

"Enough. What may have gone on between me and Sarai is none of your business. The only reason I'm discussing this with you now is because Sarai and I refuse to act like two adolescents and sneak about trying to hide the fact that we are, as Harry puts it, "involved"." Severus cut in quickly. "Sarai and I have been . . .seeing each other for many years. Seven, I believe, though we were together in a mentor/student relationship before that. I have known her for thirteen years, ever since my grandfather, Micah Prince, died and I became the true heir to Prince Manor. Originally, he hired her to tutor me in kin-sa-dor, since her reputation as a master was above reproach, and she was, like me, a half-blood. I suppose he thought we would have much in common," Severus said wryly. "We did, though not what he expected. Soon after we were introduced, my grandfather died, and I inherited the manor and all the Prince fortune, which I could not use without giving away my cover as a spy. But the manor provided me with a base I could use when my duties as a spy grew too onerous and I needed to relax. In the beginning, Sarai was my mentor, she taught me kin-sa-dor and certain fae magics. Later, however, I grew to trust her as a friend, and revealed my true occupation as a spy, and she assisted me further with concealments and glamours that my grandfather had not known. Her teachings enabled me to deceive Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters for years. We met during the summer, when I was free from teaching and she could get some time off from her duties as her family's bodyguard.

"As the years passed, we grew closer, and our friendship changed to something . . .much more meaningful. We are much alike, she and I. We are both neither fish nor fowl, she is half-human and I am half-Muggle, and both of us were in professions that required us to risk our lives on a nearly daily basis. Such things require you to be alone and make you self-reliant, but also means that you are seen as unapproachable and hard most of the time, not something that lends itself to making friends easily. Sarai alone saw beyond the mask I wore as spy and Death Eater, for she wore a similar one, and she understood what duty and necessity had made me." Severus cleared his throat, then reached for the cup of tea hovering before him, and drank some.

Then he continued. "She saw what others missed, mostly because she wore a mask as well, the mask of the warrior, confident and controlled always, and needing nothing but her blade and her skills to defend her family. She has told you the way her kinsmen see her "duty, honor, and Sarai". She became thus so her Queen and her family would take her seriously and allow her to become a Blade, for such is not the normal occupation of a fae lord's daughter. There are women warriors among the fae, but not usually from the nobility. So she had to prove to them she was willing to work hard and be better than half the other warriors in the Queen's retinue. Which she did, but that path is a hard and lonely one, and it left her with little opportunity to find a man who would accept her for all she was. She said once to me that few men, human or fae, could love a woman capable of fighting them to a standstill. She threatened their pride and thus she was better off alone."

"But you do," Harry murmured.

"Yes, because I learned long ago never to let pride get in the way of my goals. A spy has no pride, else he would never be able to do what he does, and live a lie. When I put on the mask, I was no longer Severus Snape, heir to Prince Manor, but Severus Snape, spy and Death Eater. I became a totally different person during that time, and thus pride became secondary. She understood that, and accepted it, as I accepted her, and so we became lovers as well as friends."

"Uncle Sev, how come you've never . . .gotten married to her?"

"For many reasons, Draco. My duties as an agent are one reason, as are hers as the Queen's Blade. Neither of those occupations lends itself to starting a life with a partner, or a family either. And so we agreed, long ago, to remain apart until that aspect of our life was done with. During the summer, we are together as much as possible, and so it has been until now, when my days as an agent are ended."

"So you're going to marry her soon?" asked Harry.

"No, for her duty to Titania is not yet finished, she has another two years of her service to fulfill. But afterwards . . .then yes, I would like to marry her, assuming, of course, that this war with Voldemort is done by then. Have you any objections to that, Harry? Or you, Draco? I had hoped you would grow to like Sarai and eventually accept her as a family member."

"I do like her, Dad. It's just . . .weird to think of you two . . ." he trailed off, blushing again.

"Perhaps it will become less "weird" as time goes on, and you get to know her better. Draco?"

"I like her too. And I guess I wouldn't mind her as your, uh, wife."

"Good. Because discord between you boys and Sarai is the last thing I want to deal with. You are both old enough to understand what she means to me and to know that my loving her does not mean than I will neglect or love you less. She also likes you, and is willing to be a friend and teacher to you if you will allow it, and perhaps a kind of mother as well eventually. Are you willing to try and get along with her like mature teenagers, or must I play mediator and treat you like a couple of jealous four-year-olds?"

Both Draco and Harry blanched at that last and assured Severus that no, they were willing to make friends with the half-fae warrior on their own terms. Severus seemed to relax after that, and they all sat quietly for a moment, thinking about the new circumstances.

Until Smidgen blinked into the room and asked what was for breakfast, and prompted a discussion over whose turn it was to make it and what they should eat.

* * * * * *

The boys soon discovered that having Sarai as a guest in the manor meant that Severus was much more relaxed and willing to allow them more breaks when it came to chores, such as no longer having to do the laundry by hand that week. "Blessed Merlin!" cheered Draco upon learning that bit of mercy. "Hell, I wish Sarai had come three weeks ago. Maybe if we pay her she'll stay another week?" he suggested to Harry.

But when they asked the warrior if she could extend her stay, she regrettably told them a week was all she could spare from her duties at this time. "The Queen goes on a progress to oversee her realm and visit her subjects come Tuesday next, so I cannot stay away from the Crystal Palace for longer than Monday night. I am her current Captain, and must be there to protect her."

"Uh, well, maybe you could persuade Dad to umm . . .keep letting us use magic to do some chores around here?" Harry begged shamelessly.

Sarai eyed him sternly. "Indeed? And what makes you think I have that sort of influence over your father and his dictates regarding his sons?"

"Because you do, and he'll listen to you more than us. Please, Sarai? He's had us on punishment chores for two months." Draco wheedled.

The warrior looked thoughtful. "And he has told me why that was so. It was a deserved punishment, young man, no more or less than what I would have given my own apprentices. However . . .I will consider your request," she added at their pleading mute stares. "But . . .I make no promises."

"Thanks, Sarai!" Harry said.

The half-fae warrior chuckled. "For what? I've done nothing yet."

"But Uncle Sev will listen to you. You were his teacher, he respects you." Draco remarked.

"True, though we have not been teacher and student in some years and he is now equal to me in all ways. But I will suggest he allow you a bit of leniency, and see what may come."

The next morning, when the two checked the chart upon the wall, there was an amendment to it in bold blue lettering. LAUNDRY MAY BE DONE WITH MAGIC FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE SUMMER.

Draco let out a whoop. "Damn, Harry! She did it!"

Harry grinned. "That must have been some conversation," he muttered, and Draco laughed.

"Never underestimate a woman's influence, Harry."

They also noticed that Sarai brought out a happier side of the Potions Master, he tended to smile and laugh more, and he was not always inside his lab, but spent a good portion of his day with her and his sons, practicing kin-sa-dor, taking walks about the grounds, fishing, and gathering various kinds of magical plants. In the evenings, after supper, they would play Dragons Wild or read or Sarai would tell them amusing stories and legends of Faerie, all of which she had committed to memory.

Her powers of memorization impressed Draco, who said she had as good a memory as Severus or Hermione, and Sarai had answered, "My tutor, Lara Darvalin, insisted that I memorize the legends and stories she told me, she said that writing them down ruined them, for a piece of parchment could not capture nuances of tone or inflection. As a matter of fact, centuries past, a bard was forbidden to write any of his songs or tales down, but had to remember all of them, and most of them trained themselves to remember anything they heard spoken, making them the ideal messengers for kings and keepers of lore."

"But you can write, can't you?" the blond teased, and received a quick swat from her for his impudence.

"Insolent wretch! Do you think because I wield a blade I cannot write? I'd wager I have a neater hand than you do, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked skeptical, he'd learned how to write with a quill when he was very young, at Narcissa's insistence. As a result, he had one of the neatest hands in school. Not even Hermione wrote better. "Why don't we have a little contest, hmm?"

"What are the stakes, wizardling?"

"Careful, boy. You bet against her, and you'd better keep to the letter of any agreement you make," warned Severus. "No welching."

Draco flashed his godfather a pained look. "I know how to keep my word, sir. I'm a Slytherin. Any promises I make, I keep." He turned to the warrior. "We'll write a paragraph, and Uncle Sev can be the judge. Loser gets to owe the winner a favor, at the winner's discretion, within reason."

"That sounds fair. Very well, let us begin." Sarai said, summoning quills, ink, and parchment from Severus's study. "What are we writing?"

Draco shrugged. "Anything. But it has to be at least a five sentence paragraph."

The two went to the table in the kitchen to write their paragraphs. It took fifteen minutes, then they turned in the papers to Severus. Harry peered over his father's shoulder while Severus was judging. To him, both sets of handwriting was equally good, far better than he could have managed, even after Severus's tutoring.

Severus deliberated for some time, pursing his lips and studying the parchments from all angels, until at last he declared Sarai the winner by two words, since Draco's quill had splattered slightly on the last two words, blurring them a bit.

The Slytherin took his defeat gracefully, for he had learned a thing or two about losing since that Dragons Wild game, and agreed that Snape was correct, he had smudged the last two words a little. "So, what am I going to be owing you, Captain?"

"A letter, Mr. Malfoy." she answered immediately. "I will dictate to you a letter, it is the renewal of my contract with Queen Titania, and I would like you to write it for me, since your handwriting is excellent and I'm sick of writing the same thing over and over each year."

"What? You want me to write a letter to the Faerie Queen?!" Draco exclaimed. "Merlin's blinking wand!"

"I would not ask unless I trusted you to do a good job." Sarai informed him quietly. "Titania shall be satisfied so long as she can read what is written there and my signature is upon it."

"When shall we do it?"

‘Now is the best time," said the bodyguard. "She's been bugging me for the contract for over three weeks."

The two retired to the kitchen and began working on the letter, leaving Harry and Severus free to read or nap as they chose.

But while they could get Sarai to influence their father over a few things, she refused to interfere if they got in trouble with him, for then his authority was law. "He is your father, and therefore it is his responsibility to punish you. If and when I ever marry him, then I may do so, but for now it is him you are answerable to, unless we are learning kin-sa-dor."

Draco just groaned, for he had earned himself some extra chores for being snippy about getting up in the morning when Severus called him, and had been hoping Sarai could get him a reduced sentence. But no such luck.

Before they knew it, the week was almost over, and it was then that Sarai received an invitation from her cousin, prince Balin, to join him on a hunting trip. It was delivered via shimmerling, a pretty orange colored one who called herself Flicker, she had golden-orange fur and wings like a monarch butterfly and deep emerald eyes.

:Prince Balin says to tell you, Captain Valinek, that you may bring along your mortal wizard lover or any guests you wish, the more the merrier on a hunt.:

Sarai merely raised an eyebrow. "His Highness is very generous, for a change. Did he say what quarry we'd be hunting?"

:I believe he intends to hunt a pride of chimeras, Captain. Not easy prey, but not too difficult, either. And of course, after the hunting comes the feasting and reveling.:

"Naturally. Balin would never forget the feasting and reveling," Sarai said dryly. "I'm surprised he isn't having them first, although if he did, half of the hunting party would be too drunk to sit a horse, much less kill a chimera. I shall speak to my mortal wizard lover, as he puts it, and let you know what we have decided."

:Shall I stay and await your reply?:

"You may, as I will ask him in a few moments," answered Sarai, going inside the manor to find Severus, who was finishing bottling a Decongestion draft in his lab.

"Your prince wants you to accompany him on a hunt and has invited me to join you?" he repeated in astonishment, for such had never happened in all the years he had known Sarai.

"Yes, I think Balin feels guilty for putting me through such hell during the summer and this is his way of making it up to me. Would you and the boys like to come? I assure you, no harm would come to them, they would never have to face a chimera, only the experienced hunters are ever allowed near the quarry. But it is fun to follow and to experience and I think the boys could use a break from the manor. What do you say?"

Severus considered. "Where would this hunt take place?"

"Within the borders of the Seelie kingdom, of course. Probably in the Deepwood itself, since the chimera prides reside there. There have been reports of a pride raiding some of our settlements, which is doubtless why Balin has chosen to hunt them. We usually hunt only for food or to rid ourselves of a dangerous predator. And this quarry is just the thing to make his reputation as a daring prince even more sterling."

"Would we be mounted or on foot?"

"Mounted, you can't hunt chimera on foot, they're too quick and they can fly short distances. All of the court would ride elvensteeds, and you know how protective they are of their charges, Sev. The boys would not have to participate, merely be a part of the hunting party. There are plenty in Balin's retinue who do not actually hunt, but are along for the social aspect."

"Will you be hunting, Sarai?"

"I may, if my prince decides to risk his fool neck more than usual."

"And they will not mind three mortal wizards as guests?"

"No. They know well my habit of acquiring odd friends and as my guest they would not dare offer you insult, Severus, or they would answer to me." She grinned fiercely. "And Balin's friends and courtiers may be young, but they aren't stupid. They know all too well how badly they would get thrashed in an honor duel against me, and I'd not hesitate to call challenge if they grew offensive. Besides, you would not be the first humans we've hunted with in the past century. Titania's court is friendlier towards mortals than Oberon's ever was four centuries ago."

"How many will be there on the hunt?"

"Excluding the actual huntsmen? About thirty or forty, is my best guess. Balin's close friends and their relatives, as well as a few lower echelon courtiers seeking to win a place in the prince's retinue. He means well, my cousin, it is considered an honor to hunt with him."

"Very well. I suppose it can't do any harm for the boys to get better acquainted with their fae cousins. When is this hunt?"

"Tomorrow at dawn, I believe. We usually meet on the verge of the Deepwood, just outside the palace grounds. I know how to summon a Gate to get there, Sev, so all you have to do is part the Evermist and allow me to do so."

Severus nodded. "Let's surprise the boys after supper, shall we?"

"Yes, that's a good idea." Sarai said, giving him a quick kiss. "I shall go and tell Flicker that we accept Balin's invitation."

She departed to find the shimmerling, who was conversing with her dreamweaver kin in the garden, and soon Flicker had blinked on her way back to tell Prince Balin that he was now going to have four guests in his hunting party.

* * * * * * *

The next morning, there was organized chaos in the manor as everyone attempted to take a shower and change for the hunt before eight o'clock in the morning. Severus had laid out the clothes Harry and Draco would wear the night before, having gotten some sets of fae breeches and tunics for them from Sarai and used an altering spell to make them fit each teen perfectly. He also transfigured their trainers into riding boots and allowed them to use their cloaks from school. Their breeches were of butter-soft leather, but even so Severus strongly suggested they wear a pair of lightweight thermal underwear beneath them.

"How come, Dad?" asked Harry, who had never ridden anything before save for a hippogriff for five minutes.

"Because that will protect your thighs and backside from chafing," replied the Potions Master matter-of-factly. "You'll probably be sore after the hunt is over, since this is your first time on a horse, and we'll be riding for a few hours, but sore muscles are one thing, your skin rubbed raw is quite another."

"Do as he says, Harry," Draco warned. "Otherwise you'll regret it later, when you've blisters on your bum."

"How would you know? I didn't think you ever rode anything except a broom."

"Ha! Shows how much you know. Father wanted me to have a well rounded education, so he taught me how to ride when I was seven, though I haven't been on horseback for a year now."

"Think you still remember how?"

"Yeah. It's not something you ever really forget, and I used to ride a lot before I went to school, Father used to like to show off how good I sat a horse and whatnot." Draco shrugged.

Harry looked at his father. "Can you ride too?"

Severus nodded. "Yes. Sarai taught me, but you needn't concern yourself with not being able to ride, Harry, since we'll be mounted on elvensteeds, and they will make sure you don't fall off."

"How? Are you gonna stick me to the saddle or something?"

"No, the elvensteed you are mounted on has his or her own brand of magic to ensure the rider stays upon his back, unless they wish to dismount or are knocked off by an outside force, like a person shoving them out of the saddle. So even a complete novice like you, son, will be able to ride like one born to the saddle."

Harry was relieved to hear that, he had feared he would be the only person in the party who couldn't ride and look like an utter idiot. "Oh. Okay."

"But do put on those extra leggings, Harry. Because as Draco said, saddlesores are most unpleasant," warned Severus before he departed last night.

So, following both his father's and brother's instructions, Harry donned both sets of leggings when he dressed after his shower. The outer leggings were a soft tan color and the long tunic came down to just before his knees and was slit on the sides for riding. The tunic was a mottled green and brown, making it easier to blend into the forest , and the shirt beneath it was a soft tan as well. Over it Harry wore his school cloak, black with the Gryffindor crest.

Draco's outfit matched Harry's, save for the Slytherin crest upon his cloak and the fancy cloak fastener on it of a snake's head. Both boys also had on belts which held their wands and a small pouch with some dried fruit and bread and a flask of water that would refill itself when empty.

Sarai wanted to give them small knives as well, but Severus adamantly forbid it, saying it would be like giving a gun to two four-year-olds and expecting them not shoot themselves. "No way in hell will I allow them to carry weapons, they would be sure to end up stabbing themselves or each other," he said firmly, ignoring his sons' protests.

He too was dressed in a similar outfit as the boys', though on his belt he also carried a mini potions kit and a emergency first aid kit as well.

At last everything was ready, and they all followed Severus outside to the edge of the property and watched as he banished the Evermist and then Sarai chanted some words in her own tongue and a shimmering portal appeared in the middle of the space. Sarai could enter the manor from the Faerie Realm on her own, since Severus had managed to convince the mist on that side to permit it, but he still hadn't been able to get the mist to cooperate on the manor side, and so he still needed to banish it in order to leave the manor.

"This is the Gate to the meeting place," Sarai explained. "Go through it like you would a door to a room and you will enter the Faerie Realm."

Severus went through first, so the boys would know someone on the other side. Then he waited while first Harry and then Draco came through the shimmering aqua portal. Last came Sarai, who as Gate Holder had to banish her construct once she had used it.

Spread out before them were thirty to thirty-five fae lords and ladies, some already mounted upon elvensteeds and some not. Some of them were wearing hunting leathers similar to their own, while others had on fantastically elaborate robes in all different colors and fabrics and tunics and breeches cut to resembles feathers or scales in every shade imaginable. Some were carrying slender swords or spears, others bows and some had nothing at all. There seemed to be a mix of males and females, and all of them looked young, no older than their mid-twenties, though all of them were at least a century or older.

Harry blinked, trying to adjust himself to the riot of color and the soft musical voices and the curious stares he met from large slanted eyes of crystalline blue, or deep amber or cat-like green.

He couldn't make out a word of what they were saying, the language was all in the lilting tongue of the fae, until Sarai cast a translator charm upon them and then he heard the whispers and comments flowing about him.

"Look, Dalrynna! A human child. It has been long since we've seen one here."

"Oh! Are they always that scrawny?" sniffed one woman with violet hair dressed in dark purple and silver. "Poor thing looks like a good wind will blow him right over."

"Aye, but he's kind of cute. Like a stray misthound," giggled the first one, and she smiled at Harry.

Not sure if he liked being compared to a misthound, whatever it was, Harry smiled back tentatively.

Most of the fae were taller than he was, about the size of his father and slender, with hair in every style and color, for some of the racier young fae dyed their hair in different colors, like dandelion yellow, and cerise, and bluemist.

Draco too, got his share of stares and comments when he appeared, though he gave as good as he got, putting on the haughty Malfoy mask, and some of the young men gave him nods of respect and muttered, "Noble rank, that one. Thought they'd done away with that over there."

But the rumor mill started up full force when Sarai came through and took Severus's arm, going to introduce him and the boys to her cousin, Prince Balin.

"Who would have thought, old Honor and Duty has snared herself a good-looking mortal," one maiden with peacock colored robes and hair down to her feet sniffed. "Wonder what she offered him?"

"Hush, Lisha!" hissed another woman, this one dressed in amber and blue. "D'you want her to hear you? She could take you apart with her little finger, you kelpie brain!"

"Humph! I was just wondering, is all, what the sword maiden had beneath her tunic that would attract a man like that."

"He's a mortal, he'd probably be attracted to anything in a skirt. Or so I've heard."

"Yes, I've heard mortal men are insatiable," snickered another.

"Really? Maybe I should get me one of them."

Severus and Sarai ignored all the talk around them, making their way through the knot of courtiers to where the prince was, speaking to his chief huntsmen, a tall fae with a shock of moonsilver hair and deep purple eyes. He was dressed all in black and holding the leashes of several large white dogs, which looked like a cross between a greyhound and a fox hound.

"Those are misthounds," explained Sarai as they approached the pair. "They track by both sight and scent, and are essential to finding a chimera pride. They are very intelligent and will never tree a quarry they cannot bring down, or at least the hunting party cannot bring down."

Harry examined the panting dogs closely, noting their emerald eyes and gently wagging tails and slightly sweet expressions. He supposed there were worse things to be compared to, and reached out a hand to pet a dog, who sniffed him cautiously, then licked his hand.

"Unusual," said a calm voice and Harry looked up into the purple orbs of the Huntmaster. "Aurora likes very few strangers and she has never met a human boy before."

"Oh. Umm . . .animals like me," Harry said lamely. He held out a hand and said, "Hello. I'm Harry Snape, pleased to meet you, sir."

"Welcome to Sylvaria, I am Huntmaster Cormac. You are Captain Valinek's guest, are you not?"

The fae took Harry's hand and shook it once.

"Yes, sir." He stroked the hound's head again, and she licked him once more before drawing away.

"You bear the look of the Prince line about you," said Cormac.

"My father, Severus Snape, is the heir to Prince Manor."

"Ah. That explains much. Good hunting to you, m'lord Snape." The Huntmaster gave him a half-bow, then withdrew, taking the dogs with him.

Then Harry felt his father's hand upon his shoulder, urging him forward to greet Prince Balin, and whispering in his ear, "Give him a bow like Draco just did, don't offer your hand. He is royalty."

Harry nodded, and smiled nervously.

"This is my other son, Harry Snape," Severus was telling Balin proudly.

The prince, who was tall with a shock of bright gold hair and merry eyes the color of aged whiskey, flashed Harry a delighted smile. He was wearing leathers of a royal blue and gold and bore a golden circlet about his fair hair. "Well met indeed, Wizard Harry Snape. Welcome to my realm, I hope you enjoy your time here."

Harry bowed, copying Draco, then said, "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Balin." The prince waved away his title. "I'm only Your Highness in the throne room or in the palace. Out here I'm plain Balin Highstar . Right, Sarai?"

"Correct, my lord."

"Ah, formal as ever, cousin." Balin chuckled. "Do try and lighten up a little, won't you? You are not on duty now, remember?"

"I remember, my lord prince." Sarai answered. "But I shall watch for your safety, nonetheless."

"Ah, that's typical of you, Captain. Honor, duty, and Sarai. Although, perhaps you will allow yourself to behave like a normal woman for once at the feast now that your lover is here, no?" He gave the captain a wicked smirk. "Then we'll see if you know how to dance with more than swords, eh?" Severus stiffened, not liking the prince's comments at all, but he restrained himself from commenting. Balin turned back to Harry. "I hope you enjoy this excursion, and the revel afterward. Generally most humans do, especially our local cordial, summerdew."

"They are too young to drink, Your Highness," Severus interjected firmly.

"Ah. Still not of age, I see." He flashed the boys a commiserating glance. "Pity, for summerdew is the sweetest nectar. No matter, we have merlinna punch as well. Please, speak with the elvensteeds and see which will consent to bear you. If you'll excuse me, I must speak to Lady Branchala." Then he spun about, walking through the crowd to a smallish lady in gold leathers.

"Come, the elvensteeds are over here," Sarai beckoned them over to a section of the field that was furthest from the milling crowd of courtiers.

Here, several magnificent horses stood grazing. Draco, who had seen quite a few fine horses in his time, gasped at the sheer beauty and grace of these animals, who were swifter than any Thoroughbred, and had the graceful conformation and endurance of the best Arabian. They were in shades of white, chestnut, palomino, black, silver and palest gold, and all of them had manes and tails that were long and flowing.

"Now what?" Draco asked, not seeing any kind of halter or bridles on the horses.

"Now we wait for one to choose you." Sarai answered.

In about four seconds, a large fiery red stallion looked up, spotted Sarai and came forward. "Well met, Firesong," she greeted the tall horse, who gazed at her with such intelligence that it was impossible to think he was merely an animal. "Will you bear me on the hunt today?"

Firesong snorted, then dipped his head and one front hoof in a bow. "It is always an honor to carry you on my back, Captain." No sooner had he done that, then tack appeared on him, and Sarai could mount.

He was soon followed by a tall black mare with a proud air and a white star on her forehead. The mare stopped directly in front of Severus and whinnied, "Well met again, Wizard Snape. It has been too long since I carried you for a hunt."

Severus bowed to her. "My apologies, Morgana, but my duties have kept me away for too long. However, now that I have returned, will you consent to bear me?"

She tossed her head eagerly. "Indeed, Severus Snape. I shall bear you for as long as I am able." Black leather and silver tack appeared upon her and then Severus swung up easily into the saddle.

He had explained to Harry and Draco that the elvensteeds were intelligent and you had to ask their permission before attempting to mount one, else you would find yourself on the ground. An elvensteed would refuse a rider they did not like, so you had to be careful when you addressed one.

Two other horses trotted forward to examine Harry and Draco curiously. One, a filly with a coat the color of the full moon and a spun silver mane and tail, halted before Harry and breathed on him sharply. She had large crystal blue eyes and a slightly dished muzzle. "Well, you're different from the others, aren't you?"

"That's because he's a human foal, Moonheart," whickered Morgana.

"Ah, that explains it, Mother." Moonheart squared up before Harry, who bowed and said quietly, "Hello, Moonheart. I'm Harry and will you consent to bear me?"

Moonheart studied him for a moment more, then bowed back and said, "Yes, I shall. This should prove very interesting." Then a set of silver and blue tack appeared on her.

Harry hesitated, gazing up at the tall elvensteed uneasily. "Uh, Moonheart, how do I get on?"

The white filly shook her head. "Is this your first time riding, young one?" At Harry's nod, she shook her mane. "Ah, no matter. Simply grab hold of my mane and I will see that you get on."

Harry grasped the sleek silky hair in his hands and no sooner had he done that then he found himself on top of her back, sitting astride her as if he had been riding all of his life. "There! All settled, are we?" she whinnied, then trotted over to stand beside Severus and Morgana.

Draco had been chosen by a sleek black colt named Nightfire, he was the brother of Moonheart, who were both foals of Morgana. Unlike his mother, however, Nightfire was pure black, and his tack was ebony and emerald green. Draco had no trouble mounting, however, and soon recalled his old seat in the saddle.

"What now?" asked Draco, half to himself.

"Now we wait for the Huntmaster to blow the horn and the hunt shall begin," replied Nightfire. "I believe Fleetfoot, the pack leader of the misthounds, has already picked up a scent."

Sure enough, there came a strange yelping cry from the biggest hound's throat, and the Huntmaster knelt and unsnapped all the dogs' leads. Then he put a silver filigree horn to his lips and blew it three times.

By then everyone was mounted and at that signal, they all sprang forward, following the misthounds as they pursued the elusive chimeras.

Harry gripped the saddle horn tightly, fearing he would fall off, even though Moonheart's gait was as smooth as water flowing. "Relax, young wizard," soothed the elvensteed. "I will not let you fall. Trust me. Sit up and look about and don't worry about keeping up with the others, I shall keep the pace."

Harry obeyed and he even started to enjoy the novel feeling of riding the elvensteed, who had a much smoother gait than a horse.

Nightfire came alongside his sister and Draco grinned at Harry and said, "See? I haven't forgotten how to ride. Though riding Nightfire is incredible! No other horse I've ever been on has ever been so smooth or so fast."

Nightfire tossed his head. "That's because no mortal horse can compare to an elvensteed, young wizard."

Now they were riding through the Deepwood, following the main hunters, including Sarai and Severus, who were a little ahead of them. The hounds were in full cry somewhere ahead and all of the elvensteeds were moving steadily after them, their hooves barely touching the ground.

Draco threw back his head and laughed. "Wow! This is like the most amazing horseback ride ever!"

Harry had to agree. He wasn't even frightened when Moonheart jumped a small stream and a fallen log beyond it, for it was as though he were glued to the saddle, and all he had to do was hold on.

They cantered down the path through the Deepwood for several more minutes and occasionally some more reckless fae in a hurry passed them in a flurry of hooves and robes, but Moonheart simply snorted at them in disdain. The hunting party was strung out in a broad line, following Balin, who was leading, after the dogs who were still crying the trail.

Harry could just make out Morgana and Severus some ten feet beyond them and also Sarai on Firesong.

Fifteen minutes later they were still racing through the trees and Harry shifted slightly in his saddle, for his bottom was growing a bit stiff and his thighs were starting to ache slightly.

Moonheart craned her head around and neighed, "Are you all right, Harry? Getting a bit stiff, are you?"

"A little," he admitted.

"Perhaps we ought to slow down a bit, let you adjust, yes?"

Before he could tell her not to, she had slowed from a canter to a walk.

Nightfire also slowed down, unwilling to leave his sister, and soon the two were in the back of the party, near the butterfly maidens and those others who were only along to socialize.

Moonheart kept her pace to a soft walk, despite Harry's protests that he was fine now. "I'll be the judge of that, young Snape. I've had more experience than you, in fifty years."

"Sorry, Draco," Harry apologized to the Slytherin, who was looking slightly annoyed.

"It's okay. We can catch up to the others later, no problem, right Nightfire?"

"Indeed. But it is best if we take it easy, so your companion can learn to ride like a fae lord. The hunt will not be over as quickly as all that."

They continued walking until Moonheart judged that Harry was used to the saddle and then the elvensteed quickened her pace from a walk to a canter.

"Where's everyone else?" Harry asked uneasily, peering up the trail.

"Ahead. I can hear the dogs baying," replied the elvensteed.

The two horses began to run, trying to catch up to the main hunting party.

After five minutes they came to a fork in the trail.

"Which way?" asked Draco.

"Left, I believe," responded Nightfire.

"Are you certain, Fiery?" whickered his sister. "I could have sworn Mother said to take the right fork."

"No, no. The right fork leads to the Shadow Forest, not the Meadows," disagreed Nightfire.

Then he turned and galloped down the left hand path, and with a sigh, Moonheart followed.

Ten minutes later they still had not caught up with the main party, though they could still hear the horn and the dogs in the distance.

Draco glanced uneasily at Harry and whispered, "Harry, I think we may be lost."

"No, we aren't!" snapped Nightfire. "They're simply further ahead than we thought. We elvensteeds can travel swiftly when we wish, much faster than a mortal horse."

He began to pick up the pace, his hooves making a sharp pounding against the dirt of the forest trail. Ahead, they heard the horn sound and the hounds bay excitedly as they sighted their quarry.

Suddenly, a huge shape sprang into the path ahead of them, causing both elvensteeds to skid to a stop and rear, neighing in startled surprise.

"Well, well. And what have we here? A couple of trespassers, eh?" hissed the tall cloaked form. She, for some reason Harry just knew it was a female, was mounted on some kind of giant thing that was a cross between a wolf and a lizard. "How delightful! I've been waiting simply ages for some company to come along for supper."

Then she threw back her hood to reveal a sharply pointed face with a hooked nose and beady black eyes, long stringy black hair and gnarled sharp teeth. "Hello, pretties! Black Annis wants to know if ye'd be staying for a bite to eat? Ye look mighty tender!"

She laughed, a high screeching sound, and clapped her hands.

And before the elvensteeds could bolt, they were surrounded by more cloaked figures, only these were mounted on bony steeds with fiery red eyes, and they had green-tinged blades in their hands.

Moonheart whinnied sharply. "Unseelie, Nightfire! Run!"

"Halt, foolish mare! Or else I'll slay you where you stand!" growled the tallest of the cloaked figures, and he had a longbow drawn right at Moonheart's chest.

‘You trespass where you have no right, dark one!" trumpeted Nightfire angrily, stamping his hooves.

"I am Nirvala Darkholm, and I go where I will, and no Seelie working can keep me out!" sneered the tall leader. "Now shut your mouth, before I shut it for you!" He peered at the two young wizards from beneath his cowl. "Our lucky day, eh, Black Annis? Only question now is, what shall we do first, play with them or eat them?"

In addition to the seven or eight members of Nirvala's Unseelie raiders, five huge slavering dogs slunk out of the trees to join them. Moonheart snorted in alarm. "Nightfire, it's darkhounds! Ware their bite, it's venomous!"

"Aye, pretty mare! Best ye watch it ‘afore one o' them chomps on thee pretty leg!" cackled Black Annis. "They're hungry, haven't fed in days, and they'd just love a sweet morsel of elvensteed!"

Moonheart half-reared, kicking out at the nearest darkhound, which was the size of a large mastiff and it snarled and growled, greenish slime dribbling from its oversized jaws.

Her silveron-shod hooves clipped the beast alongside the shoulder and it howled, turning to attack the white mare. But quick as the hound was, the elvensteed was quicker, spinning about on her hocks and lashing out with both hind feet in a deadly kick.

The darkhound was lunging at that precise moment, and it caught Moonheart's kick square in the jaw. The darkhound was sent flying, its skull smashed in by the elvensteed's powerful kick.

Moonheart whistled in triumph. "Take that, you blasted scurvy cur!" She swung her head about to peer at Harry, who had the sense to just sit still and allow the filly to fight her own battle. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Fine." He drew his wand, and chanted a Shield Charm, Severus's advice echoing in his mind. Your first spell in any battle should be a defensive one, unless you're attacking a foe from ambush."

No sooner had he cast that, then Nirvala loosed an arrow at him. "A ha! A wizardling brat! I should have known!"

But Moonheart saw it, and skipped swiftly away, and the arrow landed harmlessly in a tree trunk. "Unseelie scum! You have invaded our lands for the last time!"

"Think you so, you chattering bag of glue?" sneered Nirvala, loosing two arrows in succession from his longbow.

The first one shattered against Harry's shield, while the other grazed Moonheart's haunch, making the white steed neigh sharply at the sudden stinging pain.

Nightfire screamed in fury, and charged the Unseelie archer, intending to stomp him into the ground, Draco perched on his back, wand out, chanting some spell Harry had never heard of.

In seconds the air was filled with the buzzing of angry wasps, and soon some of the Unseelie were swatting at their faces and arms and shrieking as the diminutive insects stung them all over.

"Nice one, Draco!" Harry called, pointing his wand at a leaping darkhound and shouting, "STUPEFY!" The Stunning Hex was a new spell Severus had just taught him and this was the first time he had ever truly cast it against anything save Voldy.

The red bolt blew the darkhound backwards and off its feet, and when it landed, it lay still.

But that was when everything went wrong.

The old hag upon the lizard-wolf thing drew a gnarled staff from somewhere and began to shake it and chant sharply, and a net flew from her outstretched hand and tangled about Nightfire's hooves.

The black horse tried to avoid it, but it was too close and the strands of net wrapped about his hocks, entrapping him neatly. He shrieked as Black Annis pulled the net taut and Nightfire toppled to the ground with a thud, yelling loudly, "Jump, Draco! Before I land upon you and crush you!"

Draco managed, by some miracle, to kick free of his stirrups and roll clear of the falling colt just before Nightfire hit the earth. But when he gained his feet again, he found himself facing a smirking Unseelie warrior, who didn't look that much different from his light counterpart, except he had a crueler look and was wearing a necklace of bones and had small skulls braided into his hair instead of crystals.

"Want to play, little boy?" laughed the warrior, drawing a slender rapier. "I promise I won't be too quick to kill you."

"Shove it up your arse, freak!" spat Draco, backing away, assuming a defensive kin-sa-dor stance.

The Unseelie's red eyes widened. "So . . .you are familiar with the Shadow Dance, are you? Shall we see how well you know how to dance the steps?" He spun his sword in a lazy arc, bringing his arm up and jabbing it towards Draco's face.

But Draco knew a feint when he saw it, and ducked the sword and then blocked the other's hand. Now he thanked the hours of grueling practice Severus and Sarai had put him through, for without it he would have been dead.

He countered several more lunges and cuts before managing to launch a counterattack of his own, using a Serpent Strike to land a good kick to the Unseelie's midsection.

The Unseelie doubled over with a groan, for Draco had not pulled that blow as he did when he had fought Harry that time.

The Slytherin knew his opponent was nearly finished, and he sprang forward and chopped down on the back of the other's neck, knocking him out, or at least he assumed he was knocked out.

"Humph! Kicked your arse good!" Draco said in satisfaction.

But his victory was shortlived, as a snarl came from behind him and he spun about to face a gigantic darkhound.

Oh, bloody hell! I can't move quick enough to avoid its jaws, Draco thought frantically. He pointed his wand and cast a Burning hex. "Incendio!"

Fire bloomed from the tip of his wand and engulfed the darkhound.

Draco was sure it was dead, but suddenly it sprang out of the flames and slammed into him, knocking him to the ground so hard that he lost his breath.

As he struggled to breathe, the darkhound's huge jaws closed over the arm he had over his throat and bit down hard.

"AARRGHH!"

Draco's awful scream could be heard for miles, Harry was sure of it, and he turned away from fighting yet another Unseelie raider to see his brother upon the ground with a darkhound tearing him apart.

The beast's jaws were covered in gore and blood and it was growling peculiarly, as if it was enjoying itself. Draco was writhing on the ground, unable to move, blood gushing from his arm where the dog had bitten him.

"Draco!" Harry howled. It was part denial and part terror, and then Harry saw red.

He kicked Moonheart into a gallop and charged straight at the darkhound, screaming furiously, "Get the fuck OFF my brother, you son-of-a-bitching beast! Confringo!"

A jet of purple light shot out of his wand and struck the darkhound, and the dog exploded like a firework gone wrong.

Ignoring the terrible ringing in his ears and the gory remains of the darkhound scattered about, Harry slid from Moonheart's back and knelt beside the mortally injured Draco. "Moonheart, guard us, damn it!" he called to the white mare, his wand trembling in his grip.

There was blood everywhere, it soaked into Harry's leggings as he crouched beside Draco, who was now unconscious from the shock and blood loss. Harry knew he had only seconds in which to act and he quickly recalled all of Severus's painstaking lessons in healing in the flicker of an instant. He tapped his wand to the gaping wound in Draco's arm, the darkhound's bite had nearly severed it, and chanted the Blood Halt spell. There were other wounds on the blond wizard as well, from the vicious hound's claws, they had torn great bloody scratches down Draco's sides and abdomen.

The blood ceased pumping from the other wizard's arm and Harry recalled the Anti-Shock Charm Snape had used on Smidgen and cast that one next. Some of the color returned to Draco's waxen face as the spell combated the awful shock to his system from the hound's bite.

Meanwhile, Moonheart attempted to fend off multiple attacks from Nirvala and Black Annis, plus the other remaining raiders and hounds. It was a nearly impossible fight, but the white filly was as gallant as they came, and she refused to surrender.

Suddenly, a black shimmerling popped into view and hissed in fury. :Dark spawn in the Deepwood! Mrrrooow! Get thee hence, wicked ones!:

"Smidgen!" Harry yelled hoarsely. "Get help! Bring Dad, bring Sarai, get anybody! Quick!"

:On my way, child!"

Then Smidgen was gone to gather reinforcements.

Harry turned back to the comatose Draco, holding his head in his lap, terrified beyond belief that the other boy was going to die. Draco's breathing was still ragged and raspy and he looked awful. "Don't die, Goddammit!" Harry crooned, hugging the other to him, heedless of the blood smearing his tunic. "Don't you dare die on me, you hear?" He began intoning another spell, the first healing spell Severus had ever taught him, back when he had first come to the Dursleys. "Restituo Salus!"

The gaping wound in Draco's arm slowly began to close.

Harry found tears trickling down his cheeks at the sight and he found himself thanking God, Merlin, and any other Power that was out there for allowing him to keep his brother alive. It was the first time he had ever truly acknowledged the feeling he had for Draco as the love of a brother for a brother. "You're gonna be okay, I promise," he babbled, saying anything that came into his head. "Dad's coming and he can heal you better than I can, Draco and while he's doing that, Sarai can kick these bastard's arses. Just hold on, Draco. Y'hear me, big brother? Hold on!"

He heard Moonheart squeal in pain and Nirvala laugh mockingly, and he glanced up to see the Unseelie leader throw back his cowl and smirk gleefully. He had a large scar across his throat and cheek, but the rest of his face was inhumanly handsome, which only made the awful scar stand out more.

"You make great target practice, white mare!" he taunted, releasing another shaft at the elvensteed, who was quickly becoming exhausted, and watching her twist away desperately.

"Leave her ALONE!" Harry screeched, nearly rising to his feet to fight the heartless archer before remembering that his brother was still unconscious in his lap and barely alive despite all his efforts. Dad, where are you? I need you so much! Draco's almost dead and Moonheart's going to be and so am I unless you get here right bloody NOW, damn it all!

As if his thoughts had summoned him, Morgana burst into the middle of the battleground, Severus on her back, and immediately the battle-honed spy began casting a rain of destructive magic. He was accompanied by Sarai, who went for the Unseelie leader and the rest of his people.

Tiny balls of fire exploded from Snape's wand, and as they flew through the air, they each sought out a target and impacted them with devastating force. One, two, three, four Unseelie raiders were slammed by the Meteor Curse, and blown to bits and pieces.

Two darkhounds went for Morgana, and the black mare stomped one right in the chest with one well-timed kick and Severus turned the other into an icicle with a Freezing Gust hex. Darkhounds were immune to fire but ice and cold were lethal to them, as Severus knew from having fought them once before.

"Ooo-hoo-hoo! A master to challenge me!" Black Annis chortled, rubbing her warty palms together. "Shall we have a little duel, dark savior? Hmmm?"

Severus's eyes fastened on her and became hard as obsidian. "I'll duel you all the way to hell, hag," he spat, then brought up his wand. A blue bubble of protection encased both him and Morgana, just as Black Annis smacked her staff down on the earth and caused a hail storm to pelt her adversary.

But the hail bounced off Severus's triple strength Shield Charm, and enabled the furious sorcerer to counter the hail with a double-tongue fork of lightning.

Black Annis shrieked in rage as the lightning struck her gnarled staff and burned it to ash. "Ye have broken my Staff of Darkness, ye great carrion crow, ye son of a diseased poxy whore!" She crooked her hands into claws and a pulsating ball of energy appeared inbetween her fingers, and she threw it at Severus with a shriek.

Severus swept his wand up and shouted, "Reflectivo!" That was the Mirror Defense spell, designed to reflect a direct attack back upon the one who had cast it.

The glowing energy sphere was sent flying back towards Black Annis, who squawked and dived for cover just as the sphere hit the ground and blew a crater in the forest floor.

Morgana staggered, nearly going to her knees from the concussive force, and several of the Unseelie raiders were knocked to their knees.

"Dad! Hurry! Draco's getting worse." Harry yelled over to his father, trying to shield his brother from the worst of the blast.

"Give me another four minutes!" Severus called over to his son, then he turned his attention on the remaining darkhounds.

Meanwhile, Sarai had dismounted and was fighting Nirvala on foot, and the Unseelie warrior was not having an easy time of it.

Sarai was half a head smaller than her opponent and probably only possessed two thirds of his strength, but she more than made up for it in quickness, accuracy, and bladework. Her sword and dagger flashed in and out like streaks of silver and they scored before Nirvala even knew they had hit him.

The Unseelie raider growled in fury and tried to beat past her guard with a lightning attack combination, but Sarai was not the Queen's guard captain for nothing, and she defended with a deft twist and lunge, turning Nirvala's attack into something she could use against him.

Using that particular attack form left the swordsman open, because he overextended himself during it, and Nirvala could not recover fast enough to avoid Sarai's sword.

She stepped inside his reach and stabbed her sword right through his throat before he ever knew she was there.

He fell to the ground, dead before he ever realized he was defeated.

Sarai spared him not a glance, she simply moved onto the next opponent.

Together, the master wizard and the warrior trounced the remainder of the raiders and Black Annis soundly. Harry had never seen anything quite like it in all of his life. The two worked separately, yet somehow they managed to coordinate their attacks so that Harry and Draco were never left unguarded and neither was Nightfire, who had injured his shoulder and left front leg pretty badly when he had fallen.

In a matter of minutes the Unseelie raiders were either dead or fled, and Severus caught Black Annis with an Iron Hex just as she attempted to flee the scene on her lizard-wolf. The Iron Hex was one where tiny projectiles made of iron shot out of the caster's wand and when they struck the dark witch she screeched and withered into dust on the spot, and so too did her lizard-wolf, for iron was poison to all denizens of the Faerie Realm.

"Nasty spell, Sev," Sarai said in approval, then went over to Nightfire and began to saw through the net that was wound about the elvensteed's legs.

Severus ran over to where Harry was sitting, still holding Draco, and cried, "Harry, what happened? What did this to Draco?"

"I . . .I think it was called a . . .darkhound, Dad. I tried to heal him, but nothing's working and I don't understand it!" Harry cried, sounding perilously close to tears.

"That's because a darkhound's bite is venomous, son, and the poison is undoing all the good your healing spells wrought," Severus said softly, kneeling down beside his stricken son and summoning a stretcher. "We must purge him of the poison, or else he'll die." He gently levitated Draco onto the stretcher and laid a hand on it. "Sarai, we need to get back to the Gate. Draco's been poisoned by a darkhound and he needs immediate medical attention."

"Wait, Sev. We should bring him back to the palace, there are Healers there that know how to counteract darkhound venom." Sarai said, removing the last of the net from Nightfire's legs. "There, my lad! You're free. Can you stand?"

"I . . .will try," Nightfire said wearily, then attempted to do so.

It took the big colt three tries, but at last he was up, and Morgana and Moonheart quickly went to stand on either side of him, giving their shoulders to him to lean on.

By then the rest of the hunting party had arrived and Balin assured Severus that his personal Healers would take care of Draco and they blinked the stretcher with the comatose boy upon it back to the palace.

Then Severus turned to Harry. "Are you all right, son? Are you hurt?"

"No, Dad. The blood . . .it's not mine. It's Draco's. I-I tried to help him . . .he was bleeding all over . . . the damn dog bit him so bad, Dad." Harry said hoarsely, shivering as he recalled Draco's agonized scream. "I didn't know what to do, so I blew the dog apart first and then I tried to heal him . . ."

Severus put an arm about his son's shoulders, holding him tightly. "You did well, Harry. I'm very proud of you. You're certain you're not injured?"

Harry nodded, grateful for Severus's solid presence and he held onto the older wizard fiercely, his small frame shaking with sobs. Severus stroked his son's hair, which was coated with dust and bits of debris, murmuring, "There now, Harry. It's all right, you're safe and now we need to get back to the palace so I can see how Draco is."

Harry sniffled sharply and took a deep breath, scolding himself for acting like a little baby. He quickly mastered his tears and wiped his face, withdrawing from his father's arms.

Sarai looked up from wrapping a bandage about Nightfire's injured leg. "If you like, I can Gate us back there."

"Please." Severus said.

Sarai stood, walked a little ways away from them, and summoned the Gate to the palace to her. Within moments, a shimmering portal appeared, and Severus, Harry, and the elvensteeds limped through it. Sarai came last, banishing the construct after she was through, and then she swayed on her feet.

Severus glanced back just in time to grab her shoulder. "Great Merlin! Sarai, what's the matter? Are you hurt and didn't tell me?"

"No, Sev. This is just spell backlash from summoning a Gate twice in one afternoon." She leaned gratefully on his shoulder. "I'd forgotten it was so draining."

"You look like hell frozen over," commented the wizard, studying her intently. "Looks like you could use a bath and then a soft bed."

"So could we all, Sev," murmured the Queen's Blade, then allowed Severus to assist her into the palace as well. "I'm so sorry this ended like it did. Those Unseelie should have never gotten past the borders. I fear we have a traitor in our midst, or the Unseelie have some new magic at their command." Right then, however, she was too weary to ponder how the raiders had gotten into the Deepwood. She prayed that the Healers would be able to save Severus's son, for the tall wizard had suffered enough tragedy in his short life.

On the Potion Master's other side, Harry was doing the same, and so was Severus.

* * * * * *

Draco stirred, groaning softly, his face flushed slightly with fever. Severus wrung out a cloth in icy water and gently bathed his son's face. The fae Healers had administered the anti-venom to Draco as soon as he had arrived at the palace, and he was now not in danger of dying from the poison, but he was weak and feverish. Severus had considered giving him a Fever Reducer, but decided against it because the anti-venom was a fae elixir and might not react well with his potion. So he decided to bring down the slight fever the old-fashioned way, with cold water.

The boy's eyelids fluttered open and he gazed blearily up at Severus. "Uhhnn . . .Uncle Sev?"

"I'm here, Dragon," murmured the Potions Master, smoothing the white-blond hair away from the boy's forehead. "You're safe now. We're in the Crystal Palace, as a guest of Prince Balin. You're going to be fine. How do you feel?"

Draco coughed. "I'm hot. And thirsty."

"You're probably dehydrated a little from the fever." Severus told him, helping him sit up slightly and sip some iced lemon water from a goblet. "Better now?"

Draco nodded. Then he shivered. "What about . . .my arm? The damn hound . . ." he darted a panicked glance down at his left arm, which was swathed in bandages.

"It's still there, son," reassured his godfather. "The fae Healers are among the best I've ever seen, they mended it back to full capacity, but they tell me you'll have to keep in immobile for three days and in a sling for a week before you can use it again. They said it'll be stiff and weak for awhile after that, but they left me a list of exercises you can do to strengthen the arm and get well quicker. Are you in any pain?"

"I ache all over, but otherwise I'm okay." Draco told him, relieved beyond measure that his arm was still attached to him. As he had lost consciousness, his last thought was that the blasted dog had cost him arm or even his life. "Can I have some more water?"

Severus handed him the goblet, and the teenager drank thirstily. When he had done, Severus set the goblet down on the small table and it magically refilled itself. He was sitting in a soft chair beside Draco's bed, which was made of some kind of ultra soft material that conformed naturally to the sleeper's body and cradled the injured boy like a cloud. The blanket tucked about Draco was woven of some kind of thin yet strong plant fiber that kept a patient cool or warm as their need dictated.

Draco had never felt so comfortable in a bed in his life, it was sheer bliss, yet oddly enough, he didn't feel like sleeping just yet. He gazed about at the room they were in, it was not very large, and it had a large seascape painted on one wall and a tapestry of unicorns on the opposite one. A few feet away was another bed, and it held a slumbering Harry.

"Is Harry okay?" Draco asked upon seeing his brother. "How did you find us?"

"Harry is fine, Draco. He had a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing else. He's probably a bit sore from riding as well, but he'll never admit that to me," Severus said, shaking his head at his son's stubbornness. "He was the one who saved you, Dragon. Otherwise, by the time we arrived you would have . . .died."

"Harry saved me?" Draco repeated in astonishment. "But how?"

"He remembered his lessons in healing and he used what I had taught him to keep the blood and breath in you until I arrived and could get you back to the palace and let the professional Healers work on you."

Draco looked over at the sleeping Gryffindor, wonder written all over his face. Sure, he had begun to think of the other as a brother, and Harry had also, but to risk his neck for his former rival? Draco would have never expected anyone to do that for him. "I owe him then," he murmured, half to himself.

"No. There are no debts between brothers," Severus said swiftly. "He told me to tell you that."

"He did?" Draco was startled all over again.

Severus nodded solemnly. "Are you hungry? I can send to the kitchens for something to eat."

Draco yawned. "Not really. But I do need to find a bathroom, Uncle Sev."

"It's through there," Severus indicated a small door opposite Harry's bed. "Do you need help getting there, Draco?"

"Uh . . .no thanks, I'll manage," the boy said quickly, flushing a dull red. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, noting with swift embarrassment that he had nothing on save a soft cotton night shirt.

But the smooth tile felt good on his bare feet as he made his way to the small bathroom. He was a little wobbly and weak, but he would have rather died than admit that to his godfather. Malfoys didn't whine over a little thing like that.

Even so, he was happy to return to the most comfortable bed he'd ever been in and relax against the pillows Severus had thoughtfully propped up for him. Severus ran the icy cloth over his face and neck again and gave the boy more water to drink. Draco eyed him, and said knowingly, "You've been here all night, haven't you?"

"Not quite," the other admitted with a small smile. "It's only been half a day, and as soon as you were pronounced out of danger, Harry and I got cleaned up and then he fell asleep and hasn't woken up yet. Sarai is asleep as well, summoning a Gate two times in one day really drains your magical reserves."

"Sarai's a witch?"

"They prefer the term mage here, but yes, she does have magic, like most fae. Though she usually doesn't rely on it, she prefers her warrior skills."

"What happened while I was knocked out? Did you take those miserable bastards apart, Uncle Sev?"

"We did," the other wizard replied, and there was a note of dark satisfaction in his voice that Draco understood completely. "Furthermore, you have the deepest apologies of Prince Balin himself and he has taken out a party of his personal guard and gone scouring the Deepwood for anymore Unseelie raiders that may have gotten past the wards, though that should have never happened."

"You mean someone might have let them in?" Draco guessed shrewdly.

"It's a possibility, but I have no time to speculate on it. My first priority is getting you well, Dragon, and that is all I care about right now."

Severus's quiet words made a warm glow spread through him, filling his spirit with warmth and light. The concern and love in the Potion Master's tone was like the best healing elixir, for Draco had never received that kind of consideration from his own father. When he had been injured by Buckbeak last year, and had written to Lucius, the older Malfoy had been full of advice on how to get revenge on the hippogriff and how Draco should play up his injury to get the Ministry officials on their side, but there had only been one line asking how his son was, and he hadn't even come down to see if Draco was all right. But Severus had, he recalled. Then and now, the Potions Master had been there for him, the way a real father should have been.

"Thanks, Uncle Sev."

"For what, child?"

"For . . .for always being there," he said awkwardly. "My father never was, you know."

Severus's mouth tightened at the mention of Lucius. "Your father is the biggest idiot in the universe, for he doesn't know how to appreciate what's right under his aristocratic nose. He's greedy and selfish and you deserve better than that, Dragon. I wish I could have done more to help you before, but . . ."

"You did enough," the young wizard told him firmly. "You made sure I didn't become him. You taught me right from wrong, and that's worth more than anything. I know I can be a selfish brat sometimes, and a major pain-in-the-arse too, but it's because of you that I'm not a Death Eater. I know who I owe what to, sir. And all I owe my father is a good punch in the jaw."

"Indeed." Severus agreed, then he smiled and tousled his son's hair. "Get some sleep, dragonet. If you need me, I will be here."

"Like always," Draco muttered sleepily, then he rolled over and fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that Severus Snape was there watching over him.

Severus gazed at his sleeping son for several long moments, before he leaned down and placed a kiss on Draco's forehead. "Pleasant dreams, little dragon. Thank heaven you're going to be all right."

Then he settled down in his chair to keep watch, even though he knew perfectly well that the palace was quite safe. These were his sons and it was his responsibility to watch over them. I nearly lost them both today, I refuse to ever let that happen again, he vowed.

Nor was he the only one who felt guilty over the boys' near brush with death. Sarai also was nursing a guilty conscience for not keeping a closer eye on the two, despite the fact that no one could have known the Unseelie had managed to slip inside the Deepwood, which was supposedly warded against them. She came to see how the boys were doing as soon as she had woken, and confessed to Severus that she should have been more alert and aware of where the two were in relation to the hunting party.

"This is my realm, I know how dangerous it can be sometimes. But I allowed myself to be distracted by the pleasures of riding with you again and I forgot that the greatest danger is the one that comes from behind." She shook her head in disgust. "I was a fool and they nearly paid for it with their lives. I am sorry, Severus. I was the one who convinced you to agree to take them, so any injuries they have sustained are my fault. The safety of the children is a Blade's first responsibility, I have known that all my life."

Severus put out a hand, for the warrior's green eyes were filled with regret and self-loathing, though when she looked at Draco and Harry that changed to concern and affection. "Sarai, love, no one is perfect. Not you, not me, no one. How could you know the Unseelie would ambush them? I was just as guilty as you of assuming they were behind us and not bothering to check, I was convinced the elvensteeds would take care of them, and we would watch the quarry being killed from a safe distance and that would be all. Sarai, do not blame yourself for this. I don't."

"You are far more forgiving than I, Potions Master."

"Well then, follow my example and forgive yourself. You ought to know by now that strange things occur in this realm, since you're not God, you can't be everywhere."

"I can try," she insisted stubbornly.

He chuckled and said, "The only place I want you to be right now is my arms. Come."

She came and nestled next to him, reveling in his touch and his gentleness and the knowledge that he forgave her for her oversight. Together they watched the sun set and their charges sleep, until sleep crept upon them unawares and snatched them away.

When next they awoke, invisible air sprites had left a hot banquet upon a long table for them and they all ate hungrily together, happy to be allowed to eat in private, almost like a family, and away from the high-toned practices of the court.

It was a day before the Healers agreed to allow Draco out of their care and Severus returned to the manor with his sons, Smidgen, and Sarai. The two boys were recovering well from their physical injuries, though both had nightmares and had to be soothed back to sleep by Severus and Sarai. Draco had dreamed of the darkhound attacking him and Harry of not being able to save his brother, both rather harrowing dreams, requiring the adults to reassure and hug them, though the Potions Master refused to give them any Dreamless Sleep.

"Smidgen shall keep watch over your dreams, and if you need us, we'll be right in the next room," Severus said, after tucking Draco back into bed.

Once they had departed, Draco stared at the wall and muttered, "I feel like such a wimp, waking up screaming and crying over a stupid dream. I mean, my arm's nearly healed and now I'm dreaming of the damn dog eating it all over again."

"Tell me about it." Harry said feelingly. "That's how it was with me and my nightmares."

:Memory is a powerful thing, younglings: purred Smidgen, floating gracefully over their heads in lazy spirals. :Sometimes your mind shoves emotions away because it cannot handle them at the moment, and they return in dreams, because then you have let your guard down, and your mind is trying to deal with them that way.:

"Yeah, but does my mind have to embarrass the hell out of me by making me bawl all over my godfather like a baby?" Draco queried irritably.

:There is no shame in tears and fear, young Malfoy. Fear is what keeps you alive and tears are necessary for releasing sorrow and anxiety. You have both experienced far more than your share of either for your age, so none of us find it surprising you should react this way over a "mere" dream, as you say.: the shimmerling said serenely. :In fact, it would be abnormal if you didn't react like this, and you would require more of me than to just watch your dreams.:

"Maybe so, but it's still damn embarrassing," grumbled Draco.

"Yeah," agreed Harry. He blushed hotly as he recalled clinging to Sarai and weeping into her shoulder that he had let Draco die and he was sorry. At first, he had thought his father had come, but then he realized it was Sarai after a moment, and had wanted to die. Thank Merlin the warrior had not spoken to him save to whisper that it was just a dream and hold him until he had stopped crying. He bet she had never woken up crying like a little kid over a dream. Although, for an instant, he had reveled in her gentle touch, thinking wistfully that this was what it must be like to have a mother.

:Silly children, there are much worse things to be embarrassed over. Now close your eyes and go to sleep.:

Both teenagers obeyed her after a minute, and Smidgen slipped into their minds after a few minutes had gone by and ensured they would sleep the rest of the night through soundly, and wake the next morning refreshed and calm.

* * * * * *

"You leave tomorrow morning," Severus whispered sadly into Sarai's slightly pointed ear. "I wish . . . " he trailed off, for they both knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't articulate. I wish you never had to leave. I wish you could forsake your duty and remain here with me.

"I know," she whispered back, nestling deeper into his arms, as they attempted to go back to sleep after the night's drama. "I wish that too."

"It's too bad we never get what we wish for," he sighed, his breath tickling her ear and making her quiver.

"I wouldn't say never, Sev. I have you for a little while."

"But it's never enough."

"True, but we appreciate each other all the more, beloved. And I can make this moment stretch into eternity, so it sustains me when we're apart."

"But I want to give you so much more," Severus said, frustrated.

"You give me more than any man ever has, fae or mortal, Severus. Only with you can I be just Sarai, and not the Captain. You alone have seen past the mask of honor and duty to the woman beneath."

"Perhaps because I wear the same mask."

"Not anymore. You can let it go now, Sev." One finger came up to caress his cheek. "I look forward to the day I can do the same."

"You have two more years," he sighed.

"And what is that? Two years is nearly nothing, it will be over before you know it, Sev. Then nothing will ever separate us again."

"I'm sorry, this wasn't how I wanted to spend our last night together," he admitted. "I had planned on something a little more romantic." He sighed ruefully. "Typical. I try for romance and end up comforting two scared kids. Not that I'm blaming them, but this wasn't what I'd wanted to leave you with."

"Severus, you have nothing to be sorry for. I don't mind helping you with your sons, you know I like children, hard though that may be to believe of a hardass warrior like myself. Did you think I'd just stand there and watch Harry sobbing his head off and not do anything? Because if you say yes, I'll punch you out," she said indignantly. "Nobody knows better than I do what it's like to hold a comrade in your arms and pray he doesn't take his last breath in them. Or a relative. And if I can offer that boy comfort, I'll do so, and to the crows with lost sleep. I've wept over too many graves to ever be cavalier over another's pain, especially a child's. Especially your child's."

"You truly don't mind?"

"Ask me that one more time, Snape, and I'm going to hit you good and hard," she threatened, smacking him on the top of the head. "Fool man, that is what it means to be part of a family, you take the good with the bad, and if I'm to be part of yours, like you wish, then I have to start somewhere, right?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"Hush, Sev. Let us have this night and not worry about what has been or will be. Tomorrow is soon enough to say goodbye." She began to kiss him.

"You never say goodbye," he murmured inbetween them. "You always say until we meet again."

"Because we will meet again, beloved. Someday soon. Now quit talking and show me some of that romance you mentioned, Potions Master," she ordered, smiling.

"Your wish is my command, my love," he laughed, and then he did as she had ordered, making their last night truly unforgettable.

* * * * * *

Dawn came far too swiftly for the inhabitants of the manor, as the three wizards bid a reluctant farewell to the half-fae Captain, who departed as quickly as she had come after one last kiss from Severus and a promise to both boys to return next summer and teach them more of the art of being a shadow and perhaps take them on a hunt that did not end in disaster.

"You two behave for your father, you hear?" she mock-growled.

"We'll try," Draco said. "Be careful, Sarai."

"Yeah, don't go getting yourself hurt while Dad's not there to patch you up," Harry cautioned, grinning.

"I won't, you impudent whelp," she chuckled, giving him a playful swat.

Then, after one last round of hugs, Sarai turned and waved, calling over her shoulder, "Until we meet again, my wizards!"

Then she summoned the Gate to her and stepped through it, and the last thing she heard was Severus calling, "Until we meet again, love. Keep yourself safe, Sarai Valinek."

Then the Gate closed and the three men returned to the manor, to count the days until next summer and prepare for the upcoming school year.

* * * * * *

Severus checked the hourglass clock upon the mantle, pleased that his calculations had been correct, and by dawn tomorrow, the manor's time would have caught up with the real world's once again, and they would be back where they had started, when he had first gone to fetch Draco from the orphanage, a week before school started.

It had been a summer of unexpected surprises and changes, he thought, not at all what he had thought it would be when term had ended back in May. He wondered what the new term would bring, and prayed it wouldn't cause him to have an early coronary. Being a spy and a teacher had not prepared him for being a father, but he was doing his best, and they would all muddle through somehow.

Quit brooding, Snape, and take your two sons shopping for school supplies, he ordered himself briskly. If they timed it right, they could be in and out of Diagon Alley without answering any awkward questions from people. Or make that refusing to answer any awkward questions, Snape amended.

Three hours later, they returned to the manor, laden down with purchases-school robes and uniforms, quills and parchment and ink, potion ingredients, new cauldrons, books, the latest Quidditch magazine (Ireland had won the World Cup), sweets, and a copy of the Prophet.

Once they had finished putting all of their new school things away, the two boys settled down to read the Quidditch magazine and The Daily Prophet while munching on the sweets they'd bought.

"Not too many of those, else you won't eat dinner," their father cautioned.

"What are we having?" asked Draco, skimming the Quidditch section of the paper first.

"I haven't decided yet. You'll know when you're eating it," answered Severus.

"Whatever," the teenager shrugged, flipping the paper over to read the headlines.

The gray eyes opened wide in shock.

"Bloody damn hell!" he cursed softly, reading the main headline rapidly.

By Myra Newsie

It's the trial of the decade, no other criminal family had garnered as much press coverage as that of the Malfoys, husband and wife, who are charged with being known active supporters of You-Know-Who and his most ardent followers. Not since the trial of Sirius Black have the courts seen such a turn-out for spectator presentation. It's rumored they may have to open up another gallery to accommodate all those who wish to witness the proceedings. Lucius Marcus Malfoy, age 35, and his wife Narcissa Audrey Malfoy ne Black, also 35, are accused of being cold-hearted Muggle-hating, child torturing supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a scandal that has rocked the pureblood wizarding world like none before it. The Malfoys were previously known for their generous donations to Hogwarts School and the Ministry of Magic, where Mr. Malfoy had a seat upon the Board of Governors and as an advisor to the Minister of Magic. But could those seeming philanthropic acts have been a mere cover to hide his true purpose, to gather information for his Death Eater allies and gain a foothold in the government in preparation for some nefarious takeover? These questions and many others will hopefully be answered at their trial, which is set for August 24th. If proven guilty, the couple will be sentenced to life in Azkaban, and their estate and their fortune will be held in trust for their only child, Draco Michael Malfoy, who is currently in custody of his godfather and guardian, Professor Severus Snape. Snape, a Potions Master and former spy for the Order of the Phoenix is rumored to have been summoned as a witness for the prosecution at the Malfoy trial. What secrets does he hold and what will he reveal about the true nature of the Malfoys? Attend the trial on Wednesday to find out!

"What is it?" Harry asked, coming to examine the paper Draco was staring at. "Oh, holy Merlin!"

"What's wrong?" asked Severus, peering over Harry's shoulder to see what was making the two so upset. "Damn and blast! I was afraid of this."

"Are you going to serve as witness, Uncle Sev?" asked his ward, pale with anger and embarrassment.

"I can't answer that, Draco, as I have not yet received an official summons from the prosecution."

"But if they do ask?"

"Then I shall do my civil duty and act as witness on behalf of the prosecution, Draco. I have no reason to protect your father and every reason to want him put away for life," stated Severus firmly. "For several lifetimes, considering all the misery and harm he has caused. And your mother is just as guilty, for she knew what he was and what he did at those meetings and she covered up and supported him. Albus has my official reports of what occurred at the Death Eater meetings I attended as evidence, but I will not hesitate to add details to them if required. This is justice, no more and no less, and it is about time She turned her eyes towards Lucius and Narcissa."

"I know that, Uncle Sev. I wasn't going to say anything against you prosecuting them. I wanted to know if you were going so I could go too." Draco said, a fierce gleam in his storm-gray eyes.

"Draco, are you sure that is wise?"

The youngest Malfoy nodded. "Yes. I want to be there. I want them to know that I'm not their little puppet anymore, that I don't support anything they stand for, and that I never did. I want to watch and listen to the trial, so I can see them get what was coming to them. Please, sir, may I go?"

He was silent for a moment, considering. He knew the trial was sure to be a media circus, and he wasn't sure if it was all that safe for Draco to be there, but at the same time he knew the boy needed to get closure for good regarding his parents. Perhaps the trial would help him do that, and hopefully the outcome was favorable for the prosecution.

"Very well. You may accompany me if and when I am summoned to act as witness. Otherwise, you may go with me as a spectator."

"How about me, Dad? Can I go too?" Harry asked.

"You may, provided you stay under cover beneath that cursed Invisibility Cloak of Potter's," Severus ordered. "I don't want Dumbledore catching a glimpse of you and trying to accost you before you're at Hogwarts."

"Okay, Dad. Speaking of Hogwarts, what am I gonna tell everyone when I go back? I mean, will I be allowed to be your son there, or am I still going to have to pretend to be Harry Potter?"

Severus rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I haven't decided whether or not to reveal your true parentage, Harry. I need to think about it some more, but I'll have an answer for you before you get on the train to Hogwarts."

"Okay." Harry agreed, then turned back to reading his Quidditch magazine, wondering uneasily if the Malfoys' money and influence would manage to sway the jury and save them from Azkaban. And what would happen to Draco then? Harry knew that his brother would probably run away rather than be sent back to live with his parents again after living here with Severus. The trial was in three days, then they would see if justice truly was blind and impartial.

* * * * * *

The next morning, three unfamiliar owls descended upon the manor, sending Hedwig, who was trying to teach her fledglings to fly, into an absolute tizzy. She attacked the first intruder, pecking him badly until the poor owl nearly flew headfirst into the window, trying to get away from the furious mother owl.

"Hedwig! What's gotten into you?" Harry scolded, yanking open the kitchen window just before the brown owl collapsed under his snowy bird's assault.

He cradled the brown owl in his hands, noting with relief that it seemed more shaken than hurt.

Hedwig hissed angrily at it before gliding away, ignoring Harry's scolding.

"She's very defensive and territorial because of her fledglings, Harry," explained Severus, rising to take the message the brown owl was trying to deliver to him. "She wants to protect them and any strange owl is seen as a threat." He untied the message from the brown owl's leg and thanked it with a handful of owl treats.

The outside of the envelope bore the official seal of the Ministry of Magic. "Ah. The letter I've been waiting for."

"Is it the summons, Dad?"

"Yes," replied the Potions Master, breaking the seal and scanning the contents. "It's official now. We shall all be attending the Malfoys' trial."

"Well, that's a good thing, I guess." Harry said, then was drawn back to the window by another screeching row outside.

He watched in dismay as another unfamiliar owl, this one a nondescript gray-barred barn owl, attempted to flee from both Hedwig and Stormrider, who were dive bombing the poor creature.

"Hey! Cut it out, you two!" Harry yelled. "He's only doing his job, you ought to know that! Merlin, have you both gone bonkers?"

Severus rose and went to the window as well. "It's no use shouting at them, Harry. Parenting instinct is very strong in owls with young at this time, and they are simply reacting according to their nature."

"But they're trying to kill the darn messenger, Dad!"

"No, not kill, simply drive him off." Severus corrected, then he waved his wand and summoned the owl inside the manor before Hedwig or Stormy injured him badly.

The little barn owl hooted gratefully as soon as it was inside the kitchen, then stuck out its leg to Harry, who raised an eyebrow and removed the proffered letter. "Thanks. It's from . . .Sirius!" he gasped. "Hell's bells, he's finally written me back." He turned back to the owl and fed it some treats. "Sorry about that, whoever you are. Hedwig's normally nice."

The barn owl chirruped, then flew out the window and quickly away from the manor.

"You wrote to your, ah, godfather?" Severus queried, just managing to keep the sneer from his tone.

"Yeah, ages ago, back when you first came to the Dursleys." Harry admitted. "I wanted to tell him the truth about me, I felt he should know, so I wrote him, but this is the first time I've gotten a response to my letter."

"Perhaps he was too shocked to offer congratulations," said Severus sarcastically.

Harry ignored him, tearing open the envelope and reading the following letter.

Dear Harry,

Sorry I haven't written a response to the letter you sent way back at the beginning of August, but the truth was I didn't quite know how to respond to it at first. Okay, at first I damn near had a heart attack when I read it, I'll admit it. But then, once I calmed down some, I had to admit that it made a kind of sense.

I had always known that Lily and . . .and Snivellus-I mean Severus, sorry force of habit, had a thing for each other. I never understood what she saw in him, but Lily was never what you'd call an ordinary girl. She always went her own way, and to the devil with what anybody thought or said. She got into plenty of fights over her dating a Slytherin, I can tell you, and not just with James either. Once she clocked a girl named Leticia Brown for saying that Slytherins were nothing but scumbag whoremasters and baby rapers, and asking her how she could bear the touch of one? I think Brown drank the rest of her meals through a straw for a week.

After that all the girls were careful to shut up around Firebrand Lil, as they called her, and nobody ever said anything offensive about Snape in her hearing again. Except James, of course, because he never seemed to know how to keep his mouth shut, and he was jealous as all get out that Lily preferred Snape over him.

Guess that's why he was so shocked when Lily agreed to marry him. Well, of course we all thought Snape was dead, but we never thought Lily was pregnant by him. Stupid, right? Guy was her fiancee, it was only natural they'd be . . .I'm sure you can draw your own picture here. James was over the moon, of course, and he didn't seem to care that he was playing second fiddle to a dead man.

I was happy for him, don't get me wrong, but I always thought Lily was a bit . . .distant from him. But I guess she would've been, since her heart was already given to Snape, and she was carrying his child. I wish she had told James, though. He would have understood. At least I think he would've. He loved you, Harry. He was a reckless idiot and he loved a good time too much, like me, but he loved the idea of being a father. He used to play all kinds of games with you and take you flying on his broom.

But the bottom line is that he raised a kid that wasn't his, or tried to, until Moldywarts came and wrecked everything. And then Dumbledore sent you to live with your Muggle relatives and Pettigrew framed me and you lived in hell until Snape rescued you. I'm sorry I didn't go with my gut instinct when I lent Hagrid my motorcycle and take it and you and run away somewhere. From what you told me, your uncle was as bad as any Death Eater, and for once in my life I'm in total agreement with Snape, he gave the bastard exactly what he deserved and then some.

As for Albus, I can't say I'm shocked, not after being in Azkaban and seeing the kind of double-dealing that goes on there. Bribes are common between guards and prisoners there, they aren't all dementors, and if you've got the right connections or information, you can get things . . .anyway, I stopped worshipping the ground Albus walked on the day I was sent to prison and he refused to utter a word in my behalf. So your secret is safe with me, Harry.

I'm glad that you've got a father who cares about you and doesn't hurt you, at least Snape's done one good thing in his life by taking you away from the Dursleys, and so long as you're happy with him, I can live with the fact that you're a Snape and not a Potter. I know how important that is, trust me, and I hope Snape does too and treats you decent. But if not, you write me and I'll come over and kick his skinny arse, okay?

Harry bit back a chuckle at that last statement, and flipped the parchment over. Merlin, Sirius! What'd you write, a biography? He continued reading.

They're living with me.

Pick yourself up off the floor, kid. I know, it's a shock.

It was for me too, when Dumbledore shows up out of the blue with them on my doorstep. "You'll be safe here," he tells your Aunt Petunia and Dudley, and then vanishes without so much as a by your leave. Crazy old man!

Anyhow, they've been living here for two weeks so far and at first it was no bed of lilies, but now we've learned to get along, and it's not bad. At least I've got company besides the hippogriff and your aunt's not a bad cook either. I was eating crackers and tinned beef-nasty stuff-before she came along and badgered Albus into getting us real food and she cooked it. She's got spunk, I have to admit. Don't know how she ever stayed married to that beast for all those years. Guess you'll endure a lot for your kid, huh?

Speaking of her kid . . .when I first met him, he was like the worst spoiled brat on the planet. Whined, complained, threw tantrums, I thought he was nine instead of fourteen sometimes. Tuney kept on him, though, so he wasn't totally a brat. Though he was trying to make her feel guilty about Vernon dying for a bit, least till I took him aside and gave him a rather stern talking-to and warned him about his behavior towards his mother. I've never been able to stand disrespect towards a woman, especially not from a husband or her own son.

Dudley probably picked it up from his old man, but that's no excuse, and the last time he mouthed off to Tuney I gave him what my dad gave me when I did that to my mother . . .a good smacking with a wooden spoon. No, I'm not kidding. I, Sirius Orion Black, solemnly swear that I did it. Kid deserved it, though I shocked the bloody blazes out of both of us, I'll say.

James is probably laughing his arse off up there at me-the rebel who thumbed his nose at authority-actually being a disciplinarian. I felt kind of weird too, at first. And I thought Tuney was gonna have my hide, but she didn't, and she told me all about how Snape did kind of the same thing when he was there. She said that Dudley needs a positive male influence in his life.

And all I said was, "Lady, I don't know how much of a positive influence I'm gonna be, seeing as I was framed and in prison, but I'll do my best, if you'll like." So . . .I guess I've become sort of a surrogate dad or something to Dudley now. I try and treat him like my dad did me and my little brother, with patience and kindness and respect, but also firmness when he needs it.

Guess I haven't done such an awful job of it, ‘cause he's a lot better than when he first came here and he calls me Siri now instead of "wizard" or "freak" and he's lost some weight living here, since we really don't get a lot to eat, so if you ever see him again, you just might not recognize him. I've no idea what plans Albus has for any of us, but I hope he doesn't think he can just waltz in here and take them off somewhere like they were bloody groceries, because I'll have a few things to say about it, damn straight I will!

Okay, I've rambled on long enough, my fingers are starting to get cramps and I haven't written this much since I went to Hogwarts and got detention from McGonagall. Hope you and your father are getting along and I'll write you soon, promise!

Love,

Padfoot

Harry re-read that last page two or three times before he actually comprehended it. Then he just stared at the parchment for a few minutes.

"Harry? Is something the matter? Did that-that man say something to upset you?" demanded his father.

"No, Dad. Just something that really surprised me, is all. He says he accepts the fact that you're my dad and-"

"How charitable of him!" sneered Severus.

"Dad, please! He actually said that he was glad you're my father and that you treat me decently and then he told me that Aunt Petunia and Dudley are staying with him."

Severus did a doubletake. "Excuse me? Did I hear you right? Sirius Black is living with two Muggles? And he gave me a compliment?"

"Yup. And he's trying to reform Dudley too. Here. Read it for yourself." Harry gave the letter to his father.

Severus gazed at it skeptically, then sat down at the kitchen table to read it.

When he had done at last, he said, "It's a bloody miracle! Black's finally grown up at last. Who would have thought?"

"See? Miracles do happen after all," Harry said, taking the letter back and tucking it in his pocket.

Just then Draco entered the kitchen, and blinked at seeing Harry and Severus sitting there, then said, "How can you two be so awake at this hour?"

"Draco, it's eight o'clock in the morning." Severus pointed out.

"I know, Uncle Sev. That's my point." He yawned hugely. "So, what's for breakfast?"

"We were waiting for you, Draco," said Harry, smirking. "Since you're supposed to make it this morning."

Draco groaned. "I say we need some new rules around here."

"Such as?" asked Snape.

"Such as whoever gets up first makes breakfast."

"But then you'd never have to," Harry objected.

"I know, dunderhead," Draco rolled his eyes heavenward. "That's the whole idea."

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, since this is not a democracy and the rules aren't open to negotiation until next summer, I'd suggest you start cooking something." Snape told him.

Draco scowled and went to see what was in the icebox, muttering under his breath about evil old dungeon bats that lived to torture children.

After breakfast, the third owl came, only this one was smart and flew in from the opposite end of the manor, so Hedwig didn't see him until he was already beside the kitchen window and she only screeched at him in warning instead of attacking him.

This time it was a letter from Ron.

Harry retreated to the library to read it, since he was almost positive it contained something derogatory about Malfoy in it and he didn't want the blond to see and get all mad over it.

Harry took the recipe card enclosed in the envelope and smiled. He'd had Mrs. Weasley's pot pie before and Ron was right-it was amazing. Guess now Dad knows what he can make for dinner tonight.

As for the rest of Ron's letter, he just shook his head and sighed. Once he might have agreed wholeheartedly with what his friend had written here, but things had changed between him and Draco over the summer, and now Malfoy was no longer his rival, but his brother. He wondered if Ron would keel over once he learned that? Harry grinned. Not to mention what the redhead would think if he ever learned that Draco had a thing for Hermione! Of course, that was one secret Harry would never tell, but it was fun just imagining the look on his best friend's face.

He exited the library, the recipe card in his hand, though before he did so, he fed the letter to the hungry flames in the fireplace, no sense in stirring up discord between Ron and Draco any more than what was already there. And Draco had enough to worry about the upcoming trial without getting all bent out of shape over Ron.

When Severus, Draco, and Harry filed into the courtroom Wednesday morning, it was unbearably crowded, filled to bursting with spectators and press reporters and photographers all hoping to get a glimpse of the Malfoys. It was rare that such a powerful and influential family took a fall like this, and half of wizarding London had turned out to witness what they hoped would be justice for the two alleged Death Eaters.

Tension was running rather high, since most people had considered the Malfoys pillars of the community, or at least purebloods to be respected and feared, Narcissa had been known for her sizable donations to the Wizarding Children and Families organization and also to St. Mungos. To discover that such activities were actually a cover for their more nefarious dealings made some people very angry. They didn't like being played for fools and wanted the Malfoys to suffer for it, they wanted to see the proud witch and wizard's Name dragged through the mud and publically humiliated and for the world to know the truth-that underneath the shiny posh exterior was a well of darkest evil.

Along the right half of the circular room was the benches for the Wizengamot, which would serve as judge and jury for the trial. They were among the most powerful witches and wizards in Britain, and many of them were Ministry advisors and officials who held no love for the Malfoys. Cornelius Fudge himself was there, as was his second, Rufus Scrimgeour, and Dumbledore as well. There were several Aurors present, including the fearsome Mad Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry, who was under the Invisibility Cloak, was free to observe the room and the people in it as he followed on Severus's heels. The courtroom was made of interlocking blocks of gray stone and was circular and the ceiling of it was dotted with large globes upon which an everlasting Lumos spell had been cast. There was a large wooden podium in the center of the circle, just opposite two large chaisr wrapped in chains. For some strange reason, the sight of the chairs gave Harry the chills.

Surrounding the chair and the podium were tiers of benches, those on the right half of the circle were for the members of the Wizengamot and those on the left were for the spectators, although there didn't look to be near enough seats for all the people who were crowded into the courtroom. Because of the packed number of people, Harry was careful to stick close to Severus and Draco, who were trying to make their way up to the podium, where the prosecuting attorney, Gabriel Dresden was awaiting them.

Both Draco and Severus were dressed in their best set of robes and wore suits underneath them, they looked impeccable to Harry, who had never seen Severus look so imposing or regal, or Draco either. Draco looked every inch the aristocrat and Severus did as well, he had trimmed his hair and pulled it back so that it was no longer in his eyes, and those eyes were bright with determination and reminded Harry of a falcon, proud and fierce.

Harry was dressed as he normally was, in jeans, trainers, and a yellow and black rugby shirt, and he was happy he didn't have to get all slicked up like his foster brother, he hated formal wear. That was the beauty of being invisible, you didn't have to worry about your appearance. He hadn't even bothered to comb his hair, and Severus had been so busy inspecting his own and Draco's appearances that he hadn't examined Harry too closely. If he had, Harry knew he would've been scolded roundly for leaving the house looking like a ragamuffin. Harry silently thanked whatever being looked after wayward teenagers for that bit of mercy.

He darted a quick glance at Draco, who looked all cool and collected, like he did this sort of thing everyday. Harry almost envied the Malfoy heir his poise and control, which was partly inborn and also the result of extensive instruction as a young child. Until he recalled that it was just a mask, for Draco had been nowhere near that last night, when he'd woken Harry from a sound sleep begging Lucius not to take him away from Prince Manor . . .

Harry was awakened by a low moan coming from Draco's half of the room. Afraid his brother was sick or something, he quickly Accio-ed his glasses and groped for his wand, which he now slept with beneath his pillow at Severus's insistence. His hand closed reassuringly about the shaft of holly and he whispered, "Lumos!"

Sitting up, he aimed the glowing ball on the wand's tip towards the side of the room where Draco slept, and discovered the Slytherin thrashing and whimpering, tangled like a mummy in the bedcovers. Draco's eyes were squinched shut, as though he feared what he would see if he dared to open them. His white-blond hair was wet with sweat and he was jerking like possessed animal.

"Draco? Hey, you're dreaming." Harry called uncertainly. He had seen the other in the throes of a nightmare only once before, right after the disastrous encounter with the darkhound, though then he'd been suffering his own angst and guilt and hadn't been much help to Draco. That had been the first time he'd ever seen the stoic Slytherin cry, not that Harry blamed him, for what he had gone through in the Deepwood would have scared a hardened warrior to pieces, much less a mere fourteen-year-old apprentice wizard.

Harry slid from the bed, wincing at the chill that played about his bare toes, despite the carpeting. He walked hesitantly across the room, his wand held before him like a beacon. He had plenty of nightmares himself, but he had never before seen anyone else have one, and for several minutes he just looked at Draco's writhing whimpering form, at a loss as to what he should do.

Should he attempt to wake him up? Should he go and fetch Severus?

Harry chewed his lower lip to shreds in his indecision, before a particularly loud groan decided him. He bent and shook Draco's shoulder hard and called firmly, "Draco, wake up! You're dreaming!"

"Please, Father! Let me stay here! I don't want to go away . . .I just want to stay here, with Uncle Sev . . .this is my home . . .please . . .I don't want to come with you, don't make me . . .I'm not your son! I'm NOT!"

Harry remained frozen, gaping slightly like a stunned fish, at Draco's impassioned plea and his final shouted denial made him jump.

It also brought Draco awake with a start.

"Huh? What? Where?" Draco blinked, then tried to sit up, but the sheets were wound too tightly about him. "Ah . . .what the hell? Why can't I move, Harry?"

"Shhh. Stay still and I'll help you," Harry instructed, beginning to unwind the sheet from the other boy. "You were having the devil of a nightmare, and that's why you can't move now."

"Hurry. I feel like I'm smothering."

"Calm down. Just give me a few minutes." Harry worked as quickly as he could, but the sheet was wound about Draco's lean frame very tightly. "Merlin! But it was as if you were trying to run away from someone."

"I was . . .kind of. In my dream . . .my father was coming after me." Draco admitted softly, not looking at Harry.

"Oh. No wonder you were running. I'd have been too. Did he, uh, have his, uh . . .cane?"

Draco gulped and then nodded. "Yeah. He was . . .screaming at me to come here, he was furious at me for living here, he wanted me to come back with him. And all I wanted to do was run away as quick as I could."

The sheet was partially unwound and Harry quickly continued peeling the sweat-soaked cloth away from his brother's boxer and T-shirt clad body. Draco shivered as the cool air from the partially opened window hit his sweaty skin. His gray eyes were a bit unfocused and filled with more than a little dread and anxiety. Concerned, Harry asked, "You okay? Stupid question, ‘course you're not. D'you want me to get Dad?"

Draco shook his head rapidly. "No! The last thing I need is for him to see me like this again. It was just a stupid dream. I'm not gonna curl up and die over it."

Harry understood how Draco felt, embarrassed and ashamed, but at the same time relieved that someone else was there to talk to, even if it was only Harry. "All right. Then we'll let him sleep." He glanced about the room, wondering where Smidgen was.

After the last nightmare they had both had, the shimmerling had watched over their dreams, keeping the nightmares at bay with her dreamweaving. "Where's Smidgen got to?"

"I told her to get some sleep just before I went to bed," Draco answered, yawning. "Must be exhausting, watching over our dreams, so I told her we didn't need her tonight and she should take it off." He laughed derisively. "I really suck at predictions."

"Join the club." Harry said with a wry grin. "I make all mine up along with Ron. We might as well call it Lying 101 instead of Divination."

Draco gave him a kind of smile, clearly he was still shaken up from his nightmare. "Yeah. Uncle Sev says Trelawney's an old fraud that Dumbledore lets teach out of charity."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Harry said, a bitter note creeping into his voice whenever he thought of the old wizard and what he had done to him in the name of some fool prophecy. He had finished untangling the sheet and Draco sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Harry."

Harry shrugged, embarrassed. "No problem."

Draco coughed, then said, "Hope I didn't freak you out too much. I'm not used to . . .sharing a room with anyone."

"Same here. The cupboard was too small to fit me and Dudley."

Draco sniggered. "I'll bet." Then he sobered and asked, "How can you joke about it like that, Snape?"

"‘Cause it's better to laugh about it than to get all depressed over it. Least that's what Smidgen tells me."

"Yeah. I guess." Draco agreed. Then he said awkwardly, "Uh. . .I should've said this before, but . . .anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for, uh, doing what you did back in the Deepwood. You saved my life, y'know. Uncle Sev said I would have died if it weren't for you. So . . .thanks."

"You're welcome." Harry said, not looking at Draco. "I couldn't just let you die. Then who would I have to fight with and blame stuff on?" he joked lightly.

Draco shot him a dirty look. "You'd find someone." Then he gave his brother a tentative smile. "Now I owe you one."

"No," said Harry quickly. "You don't. There are no debts between us, Draco. That's for strangers and rivals and you're not either."

"I'm not?"

"No. You're family. And family doesn't owe family. Least not in my book."

The other was silent for several long minutes then he said, "Yeah, but I'm only family so long as Uncle Sev has guardianship over me. I've been thinking a lot lately . . .what if they get off. My mother and father. What if, by some miracle, they get released from Azkaban?"

"Could that be possible? They were arrested."

"Arrested and convicted are two different things," Draco reminded him impatiently. "My father has money and connections. If there's a loophole, he'll find it." The blond apprentice shivered and wrapped his arms about himself. "I . . .don't want that to happen, Harry. I don't want to go back there . . .not with him in charge. I'm sick of pretending to be loyal to his cause, sick of him trying to make me into a twisted and evil person. I just want to stay here . . .where I can be myself and happy. Living here is like . . .the very best thing ever and I don't want Father to come and destroy everything. And he will if he's declared not guilty."

"What court in their right mind would declare him not guilty? Dad was there, he was a witness to everything."

"I know, but all it takes is one vote of uncertainty and they can't convict him of a crime." Draco said hoarsely. "If that happens . . .I won't go back there, Harry! I'd . . .run away and live in the Deepwood first or . . .or something." His gray eyes were wide with fear.

"Hey. Relax. Nothing's even happened yet, so don't panic."

"Easy for you to say. You've got a great father, instead of the henchman from hell and his bride. You don't know what it would be like. It would be a living nightmare. It would be like . . .if you were sent back to live with your uncle, if he was still alive, that is."

Harry checked a shudder at the mere thought. For that would have been a fate worse than death. He looked at Draco again, and saw how pale the other was and how the gray eyes were filled with a kind of resolute terror, as if he were already resigned to being sent back to live with his dreadful parents, as if it were guaranteed they'd get off. Funny, but he'd never seen the usually composed Draco in despair like this before, and he sought to find something to say to alleviate the other's distress, for he found it disturbed him very much.

"Don't even go there, okay? Look, what makes you think that Dad would ever let you go back?" Harry pointed out softly. "You think he would just let your father march up and drag you back to Malfoy Manor? Like hell! He's got legal custody of you, Draco. He'd fight them tooth and nail, believe me."

"I know that," said the other miserably. "And that's the last thing he needs, to get dragged through the courts in some kind of custody fight over me. It would cost too much and . . .and I don't think I'm worth it."

Harry's mouth hung open. Out of all the things his foster brother could have said, that one shocked him the most. Draco had always acted as if he were better than everyone, and self-esteem had always been something he never seemed to lack, if anything he had an over-exaggerated idea of his own importance.

But not now. Now he saw behind the mask the Slytherin wore to nothing more than a frightened kid, one who was terrified he would end up alone and abandoned to the cruel mercy of his tyrannical parent.

For one moment, Harry remained with his mouth open and the next he found himself coming back with, "Who asked you? You're worth it to my dad, you're like his son. And . . .and you're worth it to me too."

Now it was Draco's turn to look like he'd been smacked upside the head. "I am?"

"Yes. Because you don't deserve to become your father's shadow, anymore than I deserve to be my uncle's slave. We both deserve the chance to live a normal life, with a parent that cares for us, and we've got that with Dad, so don't go borrowing trouble, all right?" He fetched the Slytherin a playful cuff on the back of the head.

Draco gave him a mild glare. "What the hell was that for?"

"For being a boneheaded git," answered Harry. "Don't you know you could always hide out here in the manor, and nobody, not even Voldy himself, would ever find you? So what are you worried about? Everything's going to be fine."

"Oh really? What are you, some kind of seer now, Harry?"

"Wish I was, so then you'd quit worrying yourself to death."

"Why? Am I keeping you from your beauty sleep, Harriet?"

"Don't be an ass, Draco. Come tomorrow, you'll see, Dad will testify to what an evil bastard your father and mother are, the jury will vote to put them in Azkaban for life, and that will be that."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Believe it, Malfoy."

"Why should I?"

"Because . . .because I, Harry Albus Snape, the Chosen One, say so." Harry declared, struck by a sudden inspiration.

Draco snorted. "Chosen One, my arse." Then he smiled faintly and clocked his brother one on the arm. "Okay, I can take a hint. Go back to bed, little brother. I'll think about what you said . . .it ought to put me out like a light."

Harry hid a smirk and rose from where he'd been sitting at the end of Draco's bed to return to his own. "You're welcome, big brother," he called over his shoulder before falling back onto his bed and letting sleep claim him.

* * * * * *

"Mr. Dresden," Severus greeted the prosecutor, shaking his hand firmly. "I am here, as requested."

"Hello, Mr. Snape. Or do you prefer Professor?"

"Not while I'm out of my classroom. I'm professor for nine months out of the year, I deserve a break from it during the summer. Mr. Snape will do just fine." He laid a casual hand on Draco's shoulder. "And this is my ward, Draco Malfoy."

The attorney, who was a tall young man in his late twenties with brown hair and blue eyes that scrutinized Draco intently before holding out a hand, said, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm Gabriel Dresden, representing the Ministry's interests. If you would please have a seat on the bench there," he indicated a bench alongside of the podium. "Your guardian and I have a few things to discuss before the proceedings begin."

Severus turned to Draco, who looked a tad uneasy. "Do as he says, Draco. I'll be joining you shortly. Oh, and if a reporter approaches you, just tell them the standard "No comment" or "I don't know". That ought to keep them at bay till I return."

"Yes, Uncle Sev."

Draco moved over to the bench the attorney had indicated and sat down unobtrusively. Harry followed, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to eavesdrop on any conversation Severus was having with the attorney, he had a feeling they could ward themselves so tight that not even a shimmerling could have listened in to their discussion.

Dresden led Severus away to a small door that Harry had not noticed before, it was probably a small room for the counselors to wait in preceding their cases, and he opened it and gestured for the Potions Master to precede him. Harry noted with a bit of amusement that the attorney was wearing black robes similar to those Severus wore when he taught, high collared stark billowing ones, complete with polished black boots. A quick glance at Draco showed Harry that the comparison had not been lost on the other either. Huh. Is that the standard way the lawyers dress around here? Must be, since the other one is wearing the same thing. Who would've thought, Dad dresses like an attorney? He stifled a giggle, though the comparison was apt.

The door shut behind the two, and Draco and Harry were sentenced to wait on the rather hard bench for an interminable half-an-hour while Gabriel Dresden briefed Severus on the upcoming case and his role in it, which was to provide the prosecution with an airtight eyewitness that would clinch the case and get the guilty put away for good and all.

Draco remained still and unmoving upon the bench, staring off into space, expressionless. No one would be able to tell just by looking at him that he was scared and sick to his stomach. He wished he'd accepted Severus's offer of a Calming Draft or an Anxiety Reducer, instead of trying to play the Spartan. He took several deep slow breaths, willing the nausea to go away.

Next to him, Harry was fidgeting and tapping his hand against his knee, unable to remain completely still. He kept his eyes glued on the door his father and the attorney went into. It remained shut and Harry longed to get up and pace in an attempt to alleviate some of the jitters he was experiencing. But he knew if he moved, someone else would end up sitting next to Draco and neither of them wanted that, so Harry remained where he was, huddled under the Invisibility Cloak, wishing this day were over already.

Finally, the small door opened to admit Severus and Dresden back into the courtroom. As Severus made his way across the room towards the bench where Draco was sitting, he was accosted by no less than eight reporters and photographers, all of whom attempted to take a statement or snap his picture and also Albus Dumbledore.

All of them were treated to the same withering disdainful stare, and a softly spoken, "No comment at this time. Now move out of my way, if you will." That was all, but Severus managed to imply by his posture and facial expression that if they did not move out of the way, they shortly would be decorating the ceiling in bits and pieces.

The press got the message and scattered like mice before a stalking cat.

Albus, however, was made of sterner stuff, and he made as if to speak to Severus further, but the Potions Master made a swift slashing gesture with a hand and his dark eyes blazed in warning.

"Very well, my boy. I shall see you after the trial," Dumbledore murmured, smiling genially, as if Severus had not just nonverbally smacked him in the mouth. He withdrew, returning to the side of the room where the Wizengamot members were sitting.

Severus reached the bench where Draco and Harry were sitting and sat down, careful not to jostle the invisible Harry. His face was set and temper rode his features for a moment, so Draco waited before asking him, rather hesitantly, what Dumbledore had wanted.

"He wished, as usual, to meddle in something that is no longer his affair, and I refused to speak with him," answered Severus shortly.

"What did the attorney, Mr. Dresden, want?" was Draco's next question.

"He wished to brief me about the trial and to warn me there would be a hostile witness called by him, so I wouldn't be surprised when he announced it."

"A hostile witness?"

"Yes, the term means a witness who is reluctant to be summoned for the prosecution, and serves under duress, but is necessary to prove the prosecution's case. That one will most likely be given Veritaserum, since what he says cannot be trusted."

Draco's eyebrows rose until they practically disappeared into his hair. "Will they give it to you too, Uncle Sev?"

"No, because I am here willingly and willingly give testimony. Veritaserum is only used when the veracity of a witness's word is under suspicion."

"Oh." Draco wiped the palms of his hands on his knees. "When do you think they'll start? It's already a quarter past nine."

"In a few minutes, the bailiffs shall shut the doors, and then the accused will be brought in and the trial will begin," replied Snape quietly. "I should be called as Mr. Dresden's second witness."

Draco just nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the podium where Cornelius Fudge was now standing.

There was a low murmur in the room as the spectators all took their seats, eager to see the trial begin.

The bailiffs, dressed in severe blue robes and ceremonial armor, shut the doors to the chamber with a dull thud. They then took up positions beside the door, with arms crossed and wands tucked prominently in their belts, forbidding as stone.

Then a shimmering blue portal appeared at the end of the room and from out of it stepped two Aurors, wands drawn and trained on the two who followed.

Draco craned his neck slightly to see what his parents looked like after being in Azkaban for at least a week, and discovered that they still looked much as they had before they had been arrested, save that the clothes were standard prison issue, not the expensive suits and such his father was wont to wear. His father was dressed in drab gray slacks and a shirt that were a bit too large and his hands were shackled. But his hair was still immaculate and he eyed all the people, most of whom were booing and hissing, with classic aristocratic disdain.

"Still trying to play lord of the manor, eh, Lucius?" muttered Severus, scowling.

"It's an act," Draco hissed. "He's not as confident as he seems. He's not smiling."

"Noticed that, did you?" Severus said, pleased with his son's observations.

Narcissa stepped through the gate last, and she, like her husband, was still playing a role. She was wearing nearly the same outfit as Lucius, the drab prisoner's gray, only hers was a skirt and blouse instead of trousers. Her formally upswept and perfectly coiffed blond hair was now pulled back into a simple ponytail and she looked a trifle gaunt and sallow without her make-up. But her gray eyes were bright with indignation and she had her nose elevated, as if there were something on the ground that was offensive and why hadn't a house elf come and removed it?

Manacles wrapped about her slender wrists as well, but she wore them as if they were mere jewelry and not a degrading sign of her imprisonment. She walked beside Lucius as if they were attending a banquet as the guests of honor, not their trial. More whispers and catcalls accompanied her, but Narcissa ignored them.

"She's acting too," whispered Draco to his guardian. "See the way she keeps twitching her little finger? She always does that when she's nervous."

"As well she should be, for this trial shall decide her fate," said Severus darkly.

Sudden titters broke out in the spectator's gallery as a large sign appeared on the back of Lucius's shirt. It read Kick Me Hard, For I Am a Bonafide Arsehole.

An instant later a similar sign appeared on Narcissa. Kick Me Too, For I Am the World's Worst Bitch.

A second later, both Malfoys staggered and nearly fell as an invisible foot kicked them hard in their posteriors, nearly knocking them down.

"Ow!" yelped Narcissa. She whirled upon her escort. "How dare you assault me, you cretin?"

"Me? I never touched you, woman. But I agree with the sign."

"You miserable dog, touch me again and I'll rip out your throat!" snarled Lucius, spinning about to glare at his own guard.

"I'd like to see you try, sir," sneered the guard.

Now the rest of the room was laughing as well, for the signs were visible to those in the first tier of benches now that the Malfoys had their backs to them.

"Order! Order in the court!" bellowed the judge, to no avail, for the spectators were all hyped up and yelling insults loudly. Someone even threw a rotten apple at them.

More signs appeared. Follow the Dark Lord and End Up Jailbait, read Lucius's now. And Narcissa's read, I Suck, Ask Anyone Over Age Twelve.

Harry was snickering into his hand, and even Draco was biting his lip. Severus too, had an unholy look of glee in his eyes.

"Who cast that spell upon them?" demanded the judge, who was not at all amused at the mockery his courtroom was becoming.

No one stepped forward, of course, though Harry swore he saw two familiar red heads somewhere in the sea of faces.

"Another outburst like that and I will have you all thrown out of this courtroom," snapped the judge. "This is a court of law, not a farce. Be silent, all of you!"

The room hushed after that, and the signs vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

Severus settled back on the bench and watched as the Aurors escorted the accused up to the two chairs that were just in front of the podium and bid them sit down in them.

Neither of them protested, though both winced visibly as they sat down in the hard chairs. Narcissa gasped when the chains slithered across her and bound her to the chair securely. Lucius sneered, as if to say that such tactics wouldn't scare him any. The Aurors retreated behind the chairs, wands trained on the prisoners.

Then Fudge cleared his throat and announced in a ringing tone, "The trial of the Ministry of Magic vs. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy may proceed, the Honorable Wizard Malcolm Highguard presiding."

A wizard in his middle fifties wearing a dark blue robe and hat came forward, he held a hawthorn staff in one hand and he tapped it three times on the floor to signal that the trial was now in session. "Ladies and gentlemen, might I beg of you your silence and restraint during these proceedings," began the judge sternly. "Anyone who is disorderly will be found in contempt of court and removed bodily from the premises. Mr. Dresden and Mr. Knave, you may approach the bench."

The two attorneys went up to the podium and the judge murmured something to them that not even Draco could catch. Then Highguard said, "Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, you stand accused of some of the most heinous crimes in history. We have learned that you both were ardent supporters and followers of You-Know-Who, that you participated in meetings whose sole purpose was to advance his unholy cause and torture and kill ordinary citizens of both wizard and Muggle societies. That with malice aforethought, you did try and kill one Severus Snape, Potions Master. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," said Lucius.

"Not guilty," Narcissa echoed cooly.

Battle lines were drawn then, and Gabriel Dresden moved into the center of the room and began giving the opening statement in his case.

* * * * * *

An hour later, Harry's bottom was going numb from sitting so still, when Mr. Dresden at last called, "The prosecution now summons one Severus Tobias Snape to the stand."

Severus rose and came to stand to the left of the podium next to a conjured chair. He looked neither to the right or the left, but straight at Gabriel Dresden.

The attorney faced him and said evenly, "Please state your full name and occupation for the record, if you please."

"My name is Severus Tobias Snape and I am a Potions Master and professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Thank you, Mr. Snape. Would you please raise your right hand and swear upon your wizard's honor that you shall answer any and all questions put to you truthfully and without bias?"

Severus complied, lifting his right hand and repeating after Judge Highguard, "I, Severus Tobias Snape, solemnly swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, and speak the facts as I know them with malice towards none, upon my wizard's honor I so swear."

A wizard's honor was the highest oath you could swear without using a Binding Spell or an Unbreakable Vow.

"You may be seated, Mr. Snape," said Highguard. "Counselor, your witness."

Dresden began to question Severus, having him tell the court how he had been working for years as a secret agent for the Order of the Phoenix, doing the most dangerous undercover work. He had Severus speak of being specially chosen for such work by Albus Dumbledore himself, and then he asked Severus to describe a typical Death Eater meeting.

Severus hesitated for a brief moment, as if dredging up such dark memories were painful (as indeed they were), then he said evenly, "At the beginning of the meeting, all the participants would gather in a circle, we all wore black robes and those hideous masks, and then Lucius, who was Chief Death Eater by virtue of his status in You-Know-Who's inner circle and also his power and influence, would begin a hymn to his Dark Lord."

"What kind of hymn?"

"One that beseeched You-Know-Who to return and destroy all of their enemies. This was done at all the meetings, an invocation, I believe it is called. Afterwards, Lucius would call the meeting to order, and tell us what we needed to do. There was always some Muggleborn who needed chastising, or some Muggle family who needed to be taught an object lesson, or some Auror we had captured who needed to be shown the might of the Dark Lord's followers. Also, we would discuss possible means for resurrecting You-Know-Who, and any research we had done to that effect. Once he had assigned partners to go on raids and so forth, then he brought out what he called the evening entertainment." Here Severus's lip curled in disgust.

"Would you describe what was meant by that, Mr. Snape?"

"Lucius would bring out the current Muggle he had captured that week, it was usually a woman or a child, though sometimes also a teenage boy or a man, and proceed to torture them. He would use Unforgivables on them, such as the Imperius and Cruciatus curse, and also more mundane methods of torture and rape as well. The others would watch, because they knew that after Malfoy had his pound of flesh, they would get their own turn. Lucius believed that if you performed your duties well, you should be rewarded, and this was how he did it, by providing innocent victims for them to torture, rape, and kill. Sometimes . . .he would choose one of us and give us the person for the evening, if he thought we were particularly deserving . . .other times the victim was passed around the circle and each one took a turn casting curses, or hurting the person."

"And how did the others react when he did that? Did they participate willingly? Did they ever remove their masks so you could see their faces?"

"Yes, some did take their masks off. Those were the ones who truly reveled in that awful practice. They descended to the level of beasts . . .or worse, for I've yet to see an animal torture and rape a six-year-old. Everyone participated . . .it was almost required." There was a look of utter loathing on the Potion Master's face.

"Was Narcissa Malfoy ever present at one of these meetings?"

"Not usually, though once or twice she did attend some."

"And did she participate in the . . .entertainment?"

"Once, yes. That time, it was a man. She used a Lust Curse to make him mad with desire . . .among other things." Severus said coldly, but the disgust was plain to see in his eyes.

"I see. Were you forced into . . .participating as well, Mr. Snape?"

"I was a supposed loyal Death Eater, so yes, I was expected to have fun like the rest of them. But I did not cast anything harmful upon any of the victims. I used Glamour Charms to deceive my fellow wizards into thinking I was doing as they do, while in reality I was trying to help the victims with healing spells. I was usually the last one to either have a turn or if I was given my own victim, I would retreat to a private place and use magic to heal them partially from the trauma and send them back to their homes or to a hospital for treatment."

"And Lucius never knew of this?"

Snape shook his head. "No. I would tell him the victim died and I had taken care of the evidence. He never looked more closely at me, it was an accepted practice to torture someone to death, after all, they were only Muggles and Muggleborns, lower than dirt, so what did they matter?" the sneer in Severus's voice was unmistakable.

"Where did you learn to cast such tight Glamours?"

"From my maternal grandfather, Micah Prince. He was an expert at them and taught me well."

"Even though you tried to save some of the victims, you probably weren't able to save them all. How did that affect you?"

"I would, of course regret very deeply not being able to save the poor person, especially if it were a child. Those . . .those were the worst. To watch the torture of any human being is bad enough, but an innocent child . . .those nights I remained awake and unable to sleep afterwards and was quite ill for days afterwards. And I vowed that someday I would make Lucius and all his kind pay for their crimes, that one day justice would catch them, and serve them as they had served others, without mercy or pity."

"Thank you, Mr. Snape. No further questions, Your Honor." Dresden bowed to the judge and stepped away.

Highguard looked over at the defense attorney. "Counselor, would you like to cross-examine the witness?"

"I would, Your Honor." Knave rose and approached Severus. He was dressed in robes and a suit underneath it that would have cost the Potions Master half his yearly salary at Hogwarts. His light brown hair was cut and slicked back in the latest style in WG magazine (Wizarding Gentlemen) and his whole appearance fairly screamed unscrupulous rich defense attorney.

He circled Severus like a tiger shark looking for its next meal, his faint smile cold and hungry. Severus met his stare unflinchingly. "Mr. Snape, is it not true that once you were Lucius Malfoy's friend? That you were in school together, members of Slytherin House?"

"Yes, we went to school together, Counselor, though he was five years my senior. We were both Slytherins, and for a time I was friends with him. Lucius was very charismatic and I did not know him for what he was until he introduced me to the Death Eaters."

"Yet you followed his lead like a puppy, is that not so? You were swayed by his pureblood doctrine and joined the Death Eaters willingly, is that not so?"

"I followed Lucius down the dark path, yes, but I was sixteen, and naive. I did not realize where it would lead. Lucius did, however. He knew exactly what he was doing when he befriended me."

"Oh? And what was that?"

"Corrupting yet another soul," Severus replied bluntly. "Only he failed with me. Once I realized that his little club was nothing more than a front for support of You-Know-Who, I tried to get out of it."

"Did you? Then how come you bear the mark of one of their inner circle, Mr. Snape? You weren't trying very hard if you've taken the Dark Mark. Tell the truth, sir, you enjoyed being one of them, you were a willing participant, were you not?"

"No. I was never a willing follower of You-Know-Who. I followed Lucius, because he pretended to be my friend and I was sixteen and . . .unpopular with my classmates."

"Why was that? Was it because you spouted pureblood doctrine and the return of the Dark Lord?" challenged the attorney.

"No . . .it was because I was too smart and dating a Muggleborn witch from Gryffindor House."

There were gasps of surprise around the room at that statement.

"And what did she think of you becoming a Death Eater, Mr. Snape?"

"She knew the truth, that I was never one of them. She urged me to go to the Headmaster and tell him what I knew about the meetings, I had only been attending them for two weeks, and I did. I told Albus Dumbledore everything and asked that he help me leave them. He told me instead that he wanted me to remain and spy upon them. I became a secret agent upon his request, and he also ordered me to take the Mark, though that was many years later, when I was twenty-one. He told me it was necessary, that we needed someone close to the Dark Lord and Lucius, someone they trusted, who could learn what they planned and never suspect of giving information to the other side. I was perfect for his plan."

"How did he know he could trust you?"

"He didn't. Until I took Veritaserum of my own will and proved that I was not an ally of the dark."

Knave had not been expecting that, and seemed taken aback. But there was no way he could refute testimony under Veritaserum and so he took a different tack. "And was there never a time you felt comfortable with the Death Eaters? Never a point that you felt a rush when the entertainment was going on?"

Severus shook his head. "Never. Such vile practices are heinous and I never felt anything save shock and revulsion that I was forced to witness such atrocities. I am a teacher of children, do you think the Headmaster would have hired me if I . . .had tendencies towards abuse and molestation, Counselor?"

"I'll ask the questions, Mr. Snape, if you don't mind," Knave snapped, clearly caught off guard by Severus's sudden attack. "Yet, despite your disgust of their practices, you remained good enough friends with Lucius that he made you his son's godfather. Is that not true?"

"Yes. I continued to cultivate Lucius and when he Narcissa had a baby they named me as godfather."

"And is it not also true that you are now said godson's legal guardian?"

"It is."

"And is it not also true that if convicted, the bulk of the Malfoy fortune and estate would pass to your ward, who would then inherit a tidy sum?"

"Most likely, yes."

"But of course he would not be able to touch it until he was of age. But you could withdraw funds from it, Mr, Snape."

"Yes, as necessary."

"So then, now you have access to the Malfoy fortune, which is a great sum of money, and you want to put the Malfoys away for good so that you may continue enjoying the benefits of several million Galleons, is that not so?"

"I have not touched any of the Malfoy fortune. That money does not belong to me, it belongs to Draco. I have little need of it, since I inherited a great sum from Micah Prince." Severus said, turning the tables neatly on the attorney, who was seeking to paint him as a gold digger and unscrupulous, to destroy his credibility as a witness, so that his clients would walk free.

"Not one little bit of it? Not even for Draco's upkeep? Or school supplies?"

"No. As I said before, that money does not belong to me. I used my own money to purchase school supplies for my godson, and whatever else he needed."

"Can you prove that, Mr. Snape?"

"As a matter of fact, I can. If you wish, you may contact Gringotts bank and see the withdrawal I made from my account. I have the receipt for it at home." Severus said smoothly. "The bank teller will show you that I came into Gringotts to withdraw money from my own account only, the Malfoys' hasn't been unlocked."

"I shall be speaking to the bank manager then." Knave said, seeming quite annoyed. "No further questions, Your Honor."

"You may step down, Mr. Snape."

Severus rose and went back to sit next to Draco, amid a round of applause and cheering.

Highguard banged his gavel down on the podium. "Order! Order in the court! This is not a Quidditch match."

The applause and whistles and so forth died down. Highguard beckoned the two attorneys over to the podium. A few minutes later, he declared the court would break for a short recess, then resume after lunch.

Harry was immensely grateful for the recess, for not only was he starving, but he desperately needed to use the toilet. He had not wanted to miss his father's testimony, however, so he ignored his bladder, but now the urgency was too great. He slipped out of the courtroom and followed some spectators down a corridor to the men's room, thinking that his father's testimony must have swayed the jury towards a conviction.

* * * * * *

After the recess, Dresden called another witness to the stand, one Octavian Malfoy, a cousin of Lucius and also a member of the Death Eaters. Since he was not appearing willingly before the court, he was given three drops of Veritaserum. Then another round of interrogation began, and it was revealed that Severus's account of the meetings was dead on target, and also that Severus had given himself away by refusing to rape a seven-year-old girl, resulting in Lucius, MacNair, and Avery hunting him down like a criminal and trying to kill him.

"It's too bad they didn't, the filthy traitor!" spat Octavian, glaring at Severus with undisguised hatred.

"Restrain yourself. Mr. Malfoy!" rebuked Highguard. "This is a court of law, not a street in Diagon Alley. You do not threaten another witness."

Octavian subsided, glowering balefully.

He was dismissed and more witnesses were called, both for the defense and the prosecution. Narcissa was revealed to have hidden several Death Eaters wanted by the Ministry in her home, as well as being an ardent supporter of her husband and all he stood for. More evidence was gathered, until it appeared that there was no way the jury would not convict them.

At last, there were no more witnesses and the attorneys made their closing remarks and Highguard declared that the court would recess until a verdict was reached.

The Wizengamot members all departed and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Draco looked at the prosecutor, and saw that Dresden seemed relaxed and confident. He breathed a bit easier. Then he made himself look at the two chairs, which were Chairs of Bondage, at his parents, who sat in them as though they were thrones.

Lucius met his gaze steadily, and Draco fought to keep from flinching, for there was a world of darkness in the frost-blue eyes, and no remorse at all. He gave his son a small nod, which Draco knew meant he was to keep on supporting Voldemort and play his godfather for a fool for revenge, if necessary.

Draco nodded, then dropped his gaze. Please, please, convict them, he prayed fervently, his hands clenched to white knuckled fists on his robe.

Severus reached out and placed a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Steady, Dragon. It's almost over."

"What's taking them so long?"

"They must be certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that they are guilty before handing down a guilty verdict."

Draco heaved a sigh and shifted upon the bench, trying not to bite his nails. The wait seemed like an eternity, but it was in reality only an hour.

Then the door to the courtroom creaked open and the members of the Wizengamot filed back in.

Highguard turned to them and asked, "Have you all voted on this issue?"

"We have, Your Honor," answered Dumbledore.

"Good. Very well. How say you all in the matter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy? Guilty or not guilty?"

He pointed his wand at Albus. "Headmaster?"

"Guilty, Your Honor."

And so it went, about the semi-circle, with all the jury casting a vote for conviction. Only two people abstained. Judge Highguard banged his gavel down on the podium once more. "The jury's verdict is Guilty, by unanimous decree. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, you are convicted of crimes against the Ministry and humanity and of being a traitor to your country. I hearby sentence you to life imprisonment in Azkaban without parole. The court further declares that all of your property, assets, and holdings shall revert to the Ministry, who will set up a trust in the name of your son, one Draco Michael Malfoy. Said trust will be held until he comes of age at seventeen, upon which time he shall inherit all the Malfoy holdings, etcetera. The trial of the Ministry vs. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy is closed."

There were wild shrieks and cheers around the courtroom at that announcement.

"Mr. and Mrs, Malfoy, are there any last requests you might have before the bailiff escorts you back to Azkaban?" queried the judge.

Lucius looked rather stunned, but he recovered quickly. "Yes, we would like to speak with our son, who is there," he jerked his head towards the bench where Draco was sitting.

"Very well." Highguard gestured, and the chains unwrapped themselves from the prisoners, allowing them to stand and greet their son. "Young Mr. Malfoy, approach the bench, please."

Draco froze, and it was only through Severus's urging that he rose and went over to the podium. The Potions Master followed. "Sir?"

"Your parents wish to speak with you, and I have decided to allow it, as a final courtesy. You may bid them farewell, lad." Highguard said gently.

Draco nodded reluctantly.

"Come here, Draco," ordered Lucius.

Draco found himself automatically obeying the stern tone, as he had been conditioned to all of his life. Even manacled, Draco still found his father a frightening figure. "Yes, Father?"

"Do not despair, son. This is not over. I will have an appeal sent out and we shall yet be free of this unjust charge. Until then, I wish you to remain strong and follow the values I have instilled in you. Remember that you are my son and a Malfoy above all and now it is up to you to carry on where I cannot. You know what I'm speaking of, do you not?"

"Yes, Father," Draco said quietly. He took a deep breath, gathering all of his courage, and anger, and resentment he had harbored for fourteen years and glared at Lucius. "You want me to become what you are-a coldblooded killer who worships a dead necromancer. You want me to take up the dark mantle and the mask and become a monster who tortures women and children because it is fun and who laughs when a child is screaming and thinks no more of killing a Muggle or Muggleborn than I would kill an insect. That is the Malfoy heritage and legacy, is it not, Father?"

Lucius's eyes grew stormy. "What are you saying, son? How dare you defile your mouth by calling the Dark Lord a dead necromancer? And to defend Muggles and Mudbloods-the dregs of the street? This is the result of you living with that filthy Mudblood lover Snape! He has poisoned your mind, turned you against me."

"No, Father. He has opened my eyes to the truth. And now I see clearly. And I don't want to become the dark son like you wish. I don't believe in your cause. I never have."

"You lie! What did Snape promise you in return for this betrayal, Draco? I initiated you into the Way."

"Uncle Severus promised me a normal life, and a chance to live without a shadow on my soul, Father. I think that is worth far more than what you offered me. I obeyed you out of fear, but now I have a choice, and I choose the righthand path. I want no part of your plans, Father," Draco said firmly. "I am no longer a Death Eater's son."

Before Lucius could reply to that shockingly bold declaration, Narcissa stepped forward, her gray eyes blazing and cried, "How DARE you speak that way to your father, young man? After all we have done for you, all we have sacrificed, you dare to turn your back on us and disgrace your Name and family by crawling to Severus Snape-the half-blood beggar-and taking his hand like a dog? What has happened to you, Draco? Where is your pride? You are a pureblood, you don't associate with Mudbloods and blood traitors and half-blood scum. I taught you better than that when you were three!"

"I know you did, Mother. But . . .you were wrong. I am sorry I could not be what you wanted. But you ought to be glad that I am better than my father," Draco said, and then he looked her in the face as well.

Narcissa gasped. "Ungrateful brat!" she cried, then she drew back her hand as far as the manacles would allow and smacked her son across the face.

Draco staggered and the Aurors leaped forward to grab her. Narcissa ignored them, shouting furiously, "You have disgraced me past bearing, you are not fit to be my heir, you should have never been born, you puling milksop! Would that I had strangled you at birth! Go! Get out of my sight. You are no son of mine!"

Draco backed away, one hand going to his cheek, his gray eyes wide with pain. Clearly his mother's vicious words had cut him deeply.

Severus sprang forward then, his face a mask of fury, and he interposed himself between Narcissa and Draco with the speed of a black mamba. His hand shot out and gripped Narcissa by the collar of her shirt and he snarled, "Keep your hands off my ward, woman! You dare to call yourself a mother? You aren't fit to be a mother to a cockroach, much less a child! You are a disgrace, madam, to every mother since the beginning of time!"

"Release me, filthy traitor!"

"You allowed your husband to corrupt and hurt your own son, and you dare to call yourself a parent? You disgust me. And you ought to thank Merlin, madam, that I don't believe in violence towards a woman, else you would be picking your teeth up off the ground! Draco is no son of yours, Narcissa, that much is true. He is now my son, and your legacy of darkness and death ends with you, you unnatural harpy! May you find sympathy in the arms of the devil, for you'll find none from me!"

Then he thrust her away, as if he had touched something foul and rotting.

"Bailiff, escort the prisoners away!" ordered the judge. He turned to Severus. "I apologize, Mr. Snape. I had thought they would wish to say goodbye, had I known this would happen . . ."

"You could not know, Your Honor. Do not blame yourself for the spite of a wicked hag," Snape said shortly. He turned to see to Draco. "How badly are you hurt, son?"

"I'll live," answered Draco slowly, for it hurt to talk, one of the manacles had cut into his lip. He still had a hand covering his cheek and part of his mouth.

Before he could say anything else, several flashbulbs went off and there were a dozen reporters clustered about them with quills and pads, wanting to know what had happened.

"Mr. Malfoy, how do you feel about your inheritance?"

"Mr. Malfoy, do you feel exonerated now that your parents are behind bars?"

"Mr. Snape, will you be adopting Mr. Malfoy, now that his parents have disowned him?"

"Mr. Snape, would you be willing to do an interview?"

Severus latched onto Draco's arm and began to push his way past the knot of reporters, ignoring their questions and sending more than a few scurrying away with a sneer and a pointed glare.

"Back off, you bloody vultures!" shouted Highguard, following Severus. "Mr. Snape, I need you to sign some papers regarding Mr. Malfoy's trust fund, if you would."

Severus turned around. "Your Honor, I would appreciate if you would owl the forms to me, I really do not want to linger here. My son is injured and he needs to be at home."

"Yes, of course, how thoughtless of me. Forgive me, Mr. Snape. I shall be owling you directly."

The judge then turned and retreated into the quiet haven of his chambers, away from the mob of reporters and spectators.

"Severus!" called Dumbledore, making his way easily through the crowd. "Might I have a word with you?"

Snape ground his teeth. "Later, Albus! Right now I am sick of being questioned and if you need to speak to me, owl me. This has gone on long enough and we are going home." He kept a firm hold of Draco's shoulder and began to shoulder his way through the crowd, hoping that Harry was nearby, for he sensed Draco was close to falling apart and he wanted to get the boy back to the manor before he lost it.

They had almost made it to the doors leading out of the courtroom when Octavian Malfoy stepped in front of them.

Lucius's cousin's face was dark with fury and he spat on the ground at Draco's feet. "Filthy little Mudblood lover! Your mother was right. You aren't fit to inherit a dungheap, much less Malfoy Manor, you rotten little bugger! I hope you-!"

WHAM!

The lanky blond-haired wizard was knocked flying onto the floor. He sat up, whimpering and clutching his nose, which was streaming blood.

Draco rubbed his right hand and growled, "Shut it, Octavian! Now go crawl back into the hole you crawled out of, you dungbeetle carcass. Before I have you arrested for slander. Get!"

The weaselly man scrambled to his feet and hobbled away, yelling, "Someday you'll regret that, traitor! When He rises again, you'll be one of the first to die!"

"Up yours, you arsehole!" Harry yelled after him.

"Hush!" Severus ordered. "Stay close to me and be quiet."

He led the two at a brisk walk from the Ministry courtroom and into the bright sunshine of a London morning. They walked for another three feet before Severus spotted a convenient potted elephant ear plant and ducked behind it.

"Harry, where are you?" he hissed.

"Here, sir," whispered Harry, throwing off the hood of the cloak.

"Take my other arm," ordered the elder wizard. "We're going home."

Then they Apparated to the deserted lonely moor, where Severus summoned and parted the Evermist so they could return to the haven of Prince Manor.

Once they had reached the manor, Severus led Draco into the den and sat him down on the couch. Harry hung back, uncertain if he should intrude, sensing his brother needed to be alone with Severus right then. So he lingered in the doorway while Severus tried to convince Draco to let him examine his face.

"Dragon, let me see what she did to you, please," Severus was saying gently. "The bloody bitch hit you pretty hard, now let me see how bad it is."

Draco hunched away, stubbornly holding his palm against his face. "I'm fine! I don't care about it, Uncle Sev."

"Well, I do care, son. I don't like to see you hurt. Now take your hand away, Draco Michael, and let me examine you, right now." Severus ordered in a no-nonsense tone. He gently turned the boy's head around, so Draco was facing him, and reached up and tugged the boy's palm from his face, revealing a swollen bruised cheek and a ragged cut across his face and upper lip that was dripping blood.

Harry winced and Severus swore furiously. Then the Potions Master summoned a jar of bruise balm, a soft cloth, ice, and a basin of water. "Stay still, please. I apologize if I hurt you, but I need to clean this before I put anything on it."

He began to gently clean the blood from Draco's lip and cheek. The blond apprentice remained still, not even wincing when Severus put pressure on the wet cloth over his lip to halt the bleeding. In truth, he barely felt the pain of his cut and bruised face through the greater pain from his wounded soul. Narcissa's words still rang in his head, sharp as glass and twice as deadly. Would that you had never been born! You are nothing but a disgrace . . .You are no son of mine! Her scourging words were joined by those of Lucius's. Traitor, you betrayed me for Snape! Ungrateful whelp!

"There. Hold the ice on your lip and cheek for ten minutes, that should numb the pain and bring the swelling down slightly," Severus instructed, handing Draco a towel with ice inside of it.

Draco took it and obeyed, wishing he had something to numb the awful pain inside of his heart. He had longed to be free of his parents' dangerous dreams and machinations all of his life, and now he was, but he hadn't expected it to hurt this much. He felt as if his mother had reached into his chest and torn out part of his heart with her cruel unfeeling words.

Severus sat silently beside him, inwardly cursing Narcissa to the fiery depths of the ninth circle of hell. He could not comprehend how anyone could speak such unforgivable words to their child, especially a child who had courage enough to turn his back upon the lure of darkness and embrace the light. Miserable cowardly bitching harpy, he's worth ten of you and your husband combined! And you would disown him and wish him dead for being better than you ever could be? I should have hexed your tongue out!

He patted Draco's shoulder comfortingly, searching for the right words to ease the turmoil he knew was tearing the younger wizard apart. "Dragon, you did the right thing," he began softly. "You made the right choice, the hard choice, and I'm proud of you, son. I know how difficult it was for you, but you did it, and I don't think you'll ever regret it."

Gray eyes gazed into obsidian ones, and a hoarse whisper emerged from the side of his son's mouth. "If it was the right thing . . .and I know it was . . .then why the hell does it hurt so bloody much?" Tears gleamed in the gray eyes and meandered slowly down the pale cheeks. "She . . .said she didn't want me . . .!"

"Shhh . . .she was a fool and doesn't deserve you, Dragon," Severus said feelingly. "Ignore her, the jealous bitch. You have me and Harry, we're you're family now, and we'll never cast you out, no matter what. You're my son, not hers. Come here." He drew the injured child into his arms, cradling him against his black-clad shoulder. "It's all right, dragonet. You've nothing to be ashamed of. The right path is never the easy one, it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, no one knows that better than I do." He began to stroke the blond head, running his fingers through the silky locks and the soothing motion caused a tremor to wrack the slender frame. "Yes, go ahead and cry, child . . .no one will mock you here for tears, I'm no Lucius . . ." Hot tears dribbled down his neck in rivulets as he hugged Draco to him, rubbing the back of his neck soothingly.

Soon the tears were accompanied by soft sobs, as Draco at last allowed himself the release of tears, and cried all of his pain and shame away into his father's shoulder. The Potions Master never moved, remaining steady as a rock, holding the slender boy to his chest, and giving him the comfort he so badly needed, had always needed, but had never dared to look for from anyone. Until now.

Harry turned away, embarrassed at witnessing such a private moment, and jerked up the hood of his cloak and slipped past the two on the couch, heading towards his room. The drama of the trial had worn him out and he felt like taking a short nap. Then he would try and finish the bloody History of Magic assignment Severus had given him, it was the last one before the exam Severus had made up for him, that he had practically failed in Binns class. And after that, he would see if Draco were recovered enough to go flying with him, since flying had always made him feel better when he was upset over something.

Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and hung it in the closet before flopping down on his bed and closing his eyes. For some reason, he kept hearing Draco's voice in his head, telling him how lucky he was to have a decent father, instead of the henchmen from hell. And how lucky I was to have Lily for a mum and not a harpy like Narcissa, he thought, wincing as he recalled the stricken look on Draco's face when she had told him that he was no longer her son. What the hell kind of mother tells her kid that? He wondered angrily, thinking of how Lily had died for him. She never would have spoken those words to her son, no matter what he had done. Harry was certain of it. Poor Draco. At least I knew my mother loved me.

Harry yawned, allowing himself to slide into the realm of sleep, hoping that his brother could find some comfort with Severus, who seemed to understand him best.

* * * * * * *

When Harry awoke some two hours later, he was quite hungry, none of them had eaten much for breakfast before the trial. When he went into the kitchen to fix himself a bite to eat, however, he found Severus there as well. Apparently, both Snapes had had the same idea and Harry joined his father in fixing himself a sandwich and some soup.

As he sat down at the table to eat next to the Potions Master, he looked about for Draco. "Where's Draco, Dad? Asleep?"

Severus sighed. "No, he woke up about an hour ago and went flying." Severus had relented and given back Harry his broom so he could practice Quidditch and also Draco, since it would hardly be fair not to let Draco practice as well, since he was the Slytherin House Seeker. "Would you please go and find him after you're done with lunch, Harry? I know he wanted to be alone after what happened this morning, but I think it might be a good thing if you went and kept him company for the afternoon."

Harry nodded. Then he asked, as an awful thought surfaced, "You don't think he'd ever . . .uh . . .off himself, do you?"

Severus stared at his offspring for a full minute before shaking his head. "No. Draco is not suicidal, Harry. Believe me, I would know that, for I have dealt with potential suicides before, during school. He is upset and angry at Narcissa and Lucius, and a bit depressed, but he is nowhere near contemplating suicide. I was afraid of that also, but I have Smidgen monitoring his mental state and she assures me he is not that depressed. His self-esteem and his pride have taken quite a beating today, however, and I think he would welcome a brother to talk to."

"Okay, Dad. I can take a hint, I'm not dense," Harry smirked. "I'll go find him and commiserate with him on how awful it is getting stuck in this family, with the perfectionist Potions Master for a father. Fate worse than death, that." He glanced up at his father, his emerald eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Fate worse than death, eh?" Severus mock-growled, reaching over and giving his impudent brat of a child a light cuff on the side of the head. "Mind your manners, boy, else I'll make you beat all the rugs in this manor by hand and scrub the floor too."

"Oops. I forgot the slavedriver part."

"Boy, you are just asking for me to tan your backside with a wooden spoon," Severus threatened lightly, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"For what? Telling the truth? You promised you'd never beat me, Dad." Harry pouted.

"A swat or two with a spoon is not a beating, foolish child. Merely a very pointed object lesson. And you are not telling the truth, Harry. You forgot the part where the perfectionist slavedriver gave you back your broom a week early, and may, if he happens to see an attitude adjustment in his two sons, let you off the rest of your punishment chores as well."

"Seriously?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Uh . . .no. Forget what I said before, okay? You're the best dad ever and I worship you, sir." He pretended to kowtow to Severus, who rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

"Quit it, you overdramatic brat," Severus ordered, laughing. "Go and find your brother, Harry."

"Sir, yes, sir." Harry saluted him, then ran away laughing, before Severus could give him a swat for his sass. He left the remainder of his sandwich and his soup upon the table, and Severus just shook his head and placed a preserving charm upon it, so it would be fresh when Harry returned to the manor after talking with Draco.

Once outside, Harry summoned his Firebolt and was just about to mount it, when Smidgen appeared in the air before him. "Hi, Smidgen! Great day to go flying, isn't it?"

:Indeed, young Snape. If you are looking for Draco, he is down by the pond.:

"How'd you know . . .?" he didn't finish that sentence. "Never mind, of course you'd know, you can read minds."

:Say rather I can hear thoughts,: the midnight shimmerling corrected with a flip of her tail.

"What's the difference?"

:A great deal, if one is a telepath. Hearing thoughts only require you to lower your shields and ‘listen' to the thoughts projected around you. It is a non-aggressive form of mindspeaking. Reading minds, however, requires that you enter another's thoughts, usually without permission, to extract information, and it is aggressive and invasive. It is not something I would do unless absolutely necessary, Harry. There is no greater fanatic about privacy than a telepath.:

"Oh. I get it now. My mistake, sorry."

:You've no need to apologize to me, youngling. It was an honest mistake.: she said, her violet eyes glittering. She flew higher, her pretty butterfly-like wings bearing her aloft with ease. :Come, shall we go pay a visit to Draco and try to . . .cheer him up, as you humans say?:

"Yeah. Think you can keep up with me, Smidgen?" he challenged.

:I can outfly any wizard ever born, no matter what kind of broom they're riding.: declared the shimmerling.

"Let's test that theory, shall we?" Harry said, than kicked off and the Firebolt shot skyward in a blur.

Harry crouched over his broom, the wind singing in his ears, intoxicated by the sheer joy of flying. He glanced about for the shimmerling, expecting to see a tiny cat hovering just above the trees. Instead he spotted the small black creature some five yards ahead of him, and he blinked and redoubled his efforts to catch the elusive fae creature.

But Smidgen proved herself just as good at flying as she had said, turning and blinking in and out at lightning speed, reminding Harry a little of the Snitch. He played tag with the dreamweaver across the sky, trying his best to catch her, but the clever fae cat refused to be caught, and finally they were above the pond and Harry had to surrender.

:You gave it a good try though, Harry. Draco's down there.: She flicked her wing downward, where the Slytherin sat with his back against a convenient willow, idly fishing with a homemade pole and a thread from his robe and a caterpillar tied on the end of a bent pin. His Nimbus 2001 rested next to him.

Harry circled the pond and then glided down for a silent landing behind his brother. He cleared his throat and Draco nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Merlin, Harry! Don't sneak up on me that way. I almost fell into the pond," he scolded.

"Can't have that, now can we?" Harry grinned, then came to sit down beside Draco. "Get a bite yet?"

"No. But they're out there." Draco jiggled his line a little. He loved to fish, an activity that required a great deal of patience, but was very rewarding and fun. Lately, he'd been on a fishing spree, and usually brought home trout, chubbs, or a bass every other night, and they feasted on fresh-caught fish prepared in a variety of ways.

A moment later, there was a tug on the line, and Draco began to gently tease the fish into the shallows. "See? Told you."

Harry remained quiet, watching Draco play the trout, for it was a large rainbow-sided one, expertly until it was out of the water.

Draco tapped the fish hard against the willow, killing it, then he stuck it inside a small mesh bag tied to one of the willow's roots. "Not bad, about seven pounds. One more like that and we can have ourselves a fish fry."

"Sounds good. Where'd you learn to fish like that?"

"Uncle Sev, where else? When I stayed with him during the summer, he always took me fishing, ‘cause he knew I really loved it. My father would have thrown a hissy fit if he'd known that his heir was participating in a Muggle sport and loving it, but we never told him." Draco sighed, leaning back slightly against the willow. "He never knew a lot of things we did. If he had . . .I'd probably still not be able to sit down."

"Why would he punish you over a little thing like fishing? Or whatever else you did?"

"Because I was allowing Muggle ways to influence me," Draco replied bitterly. "That's like one of the seven deadly sins to a Death Eater. Father believed the only things a Muggle was good for was providing his inner circle with some fun and giving them a target for their rage. To him, they were lower than beasts. And the only thing a beast is good for is target practice."

"That's just so . . .twisted and wrong."

"Mmm . . .well, he's a twisted bugger, all right. I'm glad I can still live with Uncle Sev. He said I was always welcome here."

Harry was quiet for a minute. "He's right. You belong here."

Draco lifted his eyes from the pond and turned to look at Harry. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd say that."

"Me either. But . . .things are different now."

"Why? Because my mother's a classic bitch and rejected me in front of everyone?" Draco demanded sharply. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me, Harry."

"I'm not. I feel sorry for me, stuck with a touchy pain-in-the-arse brother for life."

"Oh, yeah? Look what I get stuck with. A risk-taking heroic imbecile of a brother who's guaranteed to get me in trouble for life." Draco returned.

"Poor baby. Would you rather be living at Malfoy Manor then?"

"No. It's not safe there right now. And . . .it's got too many bad memories for me. Maybe one day . . .when I'm of age, I'll return there and set it to rights, clear out all of Father's old stuff and Mother's too and make it mine again. But for now . . .this is my home, little brother."

Harry scowled. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Why? It's true. I'm older and bigger than you, Harry."

"Only by three months and half a head!"

"So? You're still littler than me, kid."

"I might be smaller, but I can still outfly you, Draco."

"Uh huh," snorted the other, reeling in another trout. "In your dreams."

Harry was about to retort to that, but then he caught sight of Draco's right cheek, the one Narcissa had struck, and saw that though the damage had been mended, Draco now bore a jagged scar on his face. "Holy Merlin! Your face!"

"What? Did I suddenly grow tusks?"

"No . . .but you've . . .a scar across your cheek. Kind of like mine, only not as famous."

"Like I'd want to be famous." Draco rolled his eyes. He reached up a hand to rub the scar absently. "Uncle Sev says I could hide it with a Glamour Charm, but I don't want to. I want people to see what she did, the wicked bitch. She disowned me as her son, so I'm disowning her as my mother. Let her rot in Azkaban for all I care. Who needs her? Not me."

Harry said nothing, simply let Draco rant, sensing this was what he needed.

After a few minutes, Draco muttered, "Guess it's true, what they say. You can choose your friends but not your relatives."

"Not quite. Dad chose you to be my brother."

"And?"

"And it was the right choice." Harry admitted. "For better or worse, you're an honorary Snape. And my big brother, Merlin help me!"

"You need a lot more than just Merlin's help."

"Look who's talking."

"Watch the mouth, kid. Or else," Draco warned playfully.

"Or else what?"

"Or else your big brother here's gonna kick your arse."

"Right. You and what army?"

"I don't need an army, when I can do this." Draco smirked, then he pulled out his wand and cast a Tickling Hex at Harry before the other knew what he was about.

The next second Harry was rolling about on the ground, helpless with laughter. "Ah-hahaha! Okay . . .hahaha . . .I'll behave . . .promise . . .take the spell off . . .Draco, please . . ." He writhed on the ground, snickering uncontrollably as ghostly fingers tickled him in every place imaginable. He was reduced to begging after three minutes. "C'mon . . .before I pee my pants . . ." Another round of giggles followed.

"You gonna behave?" Draco waved a finger in front of Harry's nose.

"Yes! Yes! Draco, have . . .mercy!"

"What for?" he inquired impishly, smirking at the sight of his brother wriggling and howling uncontrollably.

"Dra-a-co! . . . .PL-E-E-A-S-E . . .!"

"All right, guess you've learned your lesson," and he canceled the spell with a flick of his wand.

Harry, whose skin was now ultra-sensitive to the touch, continued to squirm about even after the spell was off for a few minutes. "You are . . .evil, Draco!" he sputtered when he could talk without giggling.

"Yeah, yeah. So's every big brother, so better just get used to it."

"How would you know?"

"I've seen what the Weasley twins do to Ron when they're pissed at him," answered Draco with a sly smirk.

So had Harry. "You'd better not get any ideas . . .otherwise I'll . . ." he groped about for a suitable threat, but his mind drew a blank and all he could think of was, "I'll tell Dad."

Draco burst out laughing. "Typical, go running to Dad and whine about how mean Draco is. You're perfect, Harry, since all little brothers are tattletales."

"I am not!" replied Harry indignantly. Then he realized something else. "Hey, you called Severus ‘dad'."

"Yeah, guess I did." Draco answered swiftly. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"No . . .it's just . . .I've never heard you call him that before and it sounds a little weird." Harry explained awkwardly.

"D'you want me to stop?"

"No, of course not! You're my brother, Draco, then you have to call my father "Dad", because that's how its done. Don't you know anything?"

"I know way more than you, baby brother," taunted Draco.

"Ohhh, no! You are NOT calling me that! No bloody way!"

"I just did." Draco put the fishing pole on the ground and picked up his Nimbus. "C'mon, baby brother. Come and get me." He jumped on his broom and was off in the sky in two seconds.

Harry mounted his Firebolt and took off, a determined look upon his face. He chased Draco all across the sky, nearly catching the elusive Slytherin a number of times, until they were both breathless. Then Harry revealed the fact that Severus had said they might be let off their punishment chores early and Draco let out a whoop. "Saints and serpents! How'd you con him into that, Harry?"

"Easy. I just pretended I was you." Draco made a face at him. "Only kidding. I didn't do anything, he thought of it himself."

"Wicked. Y'know, Harry, we really ought to give him Phantom now." Draco reminded him. "They're flying all over now and I think they're ready for their new homes."

He indicated the large oak tree, where some of the fledglings were now perched. They all had their flight primaries now and could fly longer and longer distances. Draco and Harry had begun teaching them to come when they whistled and to perch upon their shoulder or wrist without digging their claws into them. The owlets were very smart and learned quickly, though as yet they hadn't mastered carrying the mail. But they could handle scraps of parchment in their beaks and Harry was sure that in a week or two they would be bigger and stronger and able to handle envelopes and small packages.

Of the four, Phantom was the quietest and most graceful flyer. Frost was the quickest, being the smallest. Athena was the smartest, learning new behaviors the fastest. "She's definitely the one for Hermione," Draco said, pleased with his choice. And Zephyr was also a good flyer, and the most affectionate of the brood, he liked to snuggle on your shoulder.

"When d'you want to give him Phantom?" asked Harry, grinning as the fledglings came to fly about them in lazy circles.

"After supper, of course. Speaking of supper . . .Merlin, I nearly forgot the fish!" Draco cried, and summoned the mesh bag with the fish in it from the pond. "Yum! Fried trout! It's like food of the gods."

"What were you, fish deprived or something growing up?" Harry teased, though he loved fried trout too.

"No, but we never had fresh fish, just whatever one of the house elves cooked and there is nothing that tastes half so good as freshly caught fried trout." Draco sighed in bliss.

"And you're going to clean them this time," Harry reminded, for last time Draco had gone fishing, it had been Harry's turn to cook dinner and he'd ended up having to clean the fish and cook them.

"Fine." Draco pointed his wand and spoke a charm and the next thing Harry saw were two perfectly filleted trout, skinned, de-boned, and gutted. The heads and entrails were in a neat heap on the ground, at least until Hedwig's brood spotted them and flew down to eat with glad cries.

"Where'd you learn that spell?"

"A cookbook in the library," said his brother smugly. "I was looking for some new fish recipes and came across that instead. You really ought to learn it, Harry. It's a real time saver."

"Smug twit!"

Draco smirked. "Slytherin ingenuity. If you don't know it, research, and if that doesn't work, you invent it."

Harry sniffed. "I prefer the Gryffindor way. If you don't know, find someone who does and ask them."

"Whatever." The other boy shrugged, then headed for the manor, anxious to batter the fish and eat them.

* * * * * *

While Draco cooked, Harry ate the remainder of his sandwich and soup, for he was starving. In addition to the fish, Draco had also made some fresh string beans, grown in the vegetable garden, and a side of buttered noodles. By now, he was a competent cook, thanks to Severus and Harry's tutoring.

After rinsing out his bowl and spoon, Harry then set the table, using his magic to levitate the plates and silverware to the table, since it was fun to play about like that, and Severus didn't mind so long as he wasn't in trouble. That was another wonderful thing about living in Prince Manor, no Ministry official could tell if an underage wizard was using magic, since the Evermist blocked any trace spell. Of course, with Severus to monitor them, they didn't really need a Ministry official, Harry reflected wryly.

"Magic, Mr. Snape?" inquired his father silkily from behind him. Harry jumped about a foot. "Is there something wrong with your hands?"

"Uh, no, but you said that we were off punishment, sir."

"I said you may be off your punishment if I saw an attitude adjustment, not that you were," Severus corrected, frowning.

Uh, oh, Draco thought, turning away from the stove. Big mistake, little brother. Never assume with Severus Snape. Time for me to save your arse again. "You let us off our punishment early, sir?" He gave Severus a huge grin of delight, which was not feigned. "Thanks, you're the best, Dad!"

"Not quite, Draco. Your brother merely assumed I . . .did you just call me Dad?"

"Uh, yeah. I've wanted to for awhile now, but I had to make sure it was okay with Harry first," Draco explained, then he turned back to his fish, a pleased smirk on his face. There, little brother! A distraction.

Severus looked at his other son, astonished. "And I assume you don't mind Draco calling me Dad?"

"Nope. After all, he is my brother," answered Harry.

Severus found his mouth quirking up into a huge smile. "Finally! I was afraid you were never going to acknowledge that little fact, either of you. Congratulations. You are now officially off your punishment chores."

And the next sound that was heard in the kitchen was the sound of two teenage boys hollering in glee.

Until Severus said, "Draco, your fish are burning."

"Ahh! Damn!" the would-be chef yelped and raced to the stove to rescue his dinner.

* * * * * *

After dinner, the family gathered in the den, usually to read or play Dragons Wild or wizard chess, but this time Draco and Harry were also planning a surprise for their father. They watched as the Potions Master sat down on the couch, his copy of Most Potente Potions, a journal produced by Potions Masters that circulated internationally, in his lap, before Harry whistled a certain sequence of notes that would bring Phantom to his side. He'd made sure the kitchen window was open before beginning to whistle, so he was sure the owl would both hear him and be able to enter the manor speedily.

Severus barely glanced up at Harry's call, he knew the way they had trained the fledglings to respond to whistled cues.

A moment later, Phantom flew into the den, his gray with white barred wings making no noise as he landed gracefully on Harry's arm. "Good bird," he praised, and fed the young owl a treat. He knew it was important to always reward the birds when they responded to a command correctly, so they would remember. Owls, even magical ones, were not the most intelligent of bird species, and constant repetition was a must when training one. Or so said the book Tips on Training Your Owl in the library.

Harry gently scratched the owl under the chin and Phantom chuffed at him happily. Phantom was a handsome owl, somewhere inbetween Hedwig and Stormrider for size, and having the most unusual markings on his feathers, he was primarily gray, save for some white patterns on his wings and breast which sort of resembled curved S's.

He cast a look at Draco, motioning for him to begin, and the blond wizard cleared his throat and announced, "Dad, we've got a, uh, surprise for you."

Severus looked up from his journal, a cautious expression on his face. "A surprise? What have you done now, Draco?"

"Nothing! Why do you automatically assume we're in trouble?"

"Because, nine times out of ten, you usually are," returned his father.

"Not this time. I know your birthday was, like, ages ago, but Harry and I couldn't think of a present to get you until now."

"You shouldn't worry about that, Draco. Having you here with me is enough of a present." Severus said quickly.

"No, it isn't," disagreed his son. "This is partly a birthday present, Dad, and partly a kind of thank you for putting up with all the crap we pulled all summer. We know we drove you crazy. Anyway, Harry and I would like you to have Phantom here. He's the best of brood, and we think you deserve a new owl, since your last one was killed."

Severus was shocked speechless for once.

"Here, Dad. Take him," Harry said, and transferred the owl from his arm to Severus's. He turned to the owl and said quietly, "This is your new master now, understand? He's the one you deliver the post for and the one who'll take care of you now."

Phantom hooted softly in understanding, then walked up Severus's arm and perched upon his shoulder, cooing into his ear.

Severus reached up automatically and scratched the owl on the chest and the bird closed his eyes and made a contented noise in his throat. He continued to stroke the owl for several more minutes, getting the bird accustomed to his touch and murmuring to it, "Hello, Phantom, my name is Severus. I think we shall get on very well indeed, for you are a spectacular owl, yes?"

"He's the quietest flyer, Dad, and he's the most graceful as well," Harry informed his father, grinning.

Severus looked up from stroking the owl and said, in a voice that quivered with emotion, "Thank you both. I . . .I know how fond you've grown of the fledglings . . .This is a magnificent gift and I shall cherish him for a long time. I've been meaning to replace Shadow, but . . .I never had the time to go to Eeylops and pick an owl."

"We know, Dad. That's why we chose Phantom," Draco said, smiling. "We thought he suited you perfectly. Look at his feathers, they've got S's on them."

Severus examined his new owl's feathers. "Why so they do! How appropriate." Phantom hooted in agreement, then walked up to the back of the couch and began preening himself, content with his new master.

Severus beckoned his two sons over to him. "Come here, you two. That was totally unnecessary, you know, but thank you very much." Then he stood up and hugged both boys to him.

Grinning, the boys hugged him back. At long last, they were a proper family.

Severus smiled down at the two and thought of how far they had both come since the beginning of the summer, when all they did was snipe and argue with each other. "I'm very proud of both of you for learning to set aside your differences and become brothers to each other," he told them sincerely. "You'll find that'll help you immensely when you get back to school, for now you have more than just yourself to rely on."

"Yeah, Harry needs all the help he can get," Draco chuckled.

"Speak for yourself!" retorted his brother.

"Boys!" their father warned. "You haven't even been off punishment two hours and this is how you're behaving?"

"Well, yeah. We're brothers, what do you expect, Dad?" Harry pointed out.

Severus heaved a sigh. "Some peace and quiet in my house. But I suppose that would take a bloody miracle, so I'll take what I can get."

"We promise to behave until school starts," Draco said.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Why? It's only four days from now, Dad."

"And the amount of trouble you can cause during that time is unbelievable," their father said wryly. "Don't look at me like that, Harry Albus Snape, for you know I'm right."

"Maybe," Harry conceded. Then he added, "But we'll give it our best shot, right, Draco?"

"Sure, Harry," promised his brother. "Miracles do happen, you know. Even in this family."

The other two chuckled, though Severus thought that they had already had a miracle occur, and he wasn't holding his breath for any more.

Harry chewed his bottom lip nervously as he read the question on Severus's History of Magic Exam over. What importance did the Troll King play in the cessation of the Goblin Wars? List three examples and explain them.

Uh, the Troll King . . .the Troll King . . .that was, uh, Grimfang the Terrible, I think. And . . .he wanted to take over the Coldfast Mountains where the goblins lived . . .Harry thought frantically. He hated these types of questions, and those were the kind that his father, the sneaky professor, enjoyed giving him. How come Severus always wanted multiple answers to a question? He wondered irritably. Wasn't one answer good enough?

He heaved a sigh and began to write in the space provided what he thought were three examples for how the Troll King brought about an end to the Goblin Wars. He knew that this test was very like the last one he had taken in Binns' class, except for a few questions tossed in here and there by his father. But those were the tough ones! Only I could get stuck having to re-do an exam over the summer. Thanks ever so much, Dad!

Still, in all fairness, he knew that Severus had been right to make him re-learn the material, even though he hated it. Because now Harry remembered everything about his History of Magic topics, and it wasn't just a jumble of facts and names and dates.

He moved onto the next question, there were twenty of them, plus an essay topic at the end, and he had two and a half hours to finish the exam. So far an hour had gone by, and he was only halfway done. One thing he was sure of, he was never ever going to get a D in any subject again, if this was what happened to him because of it. He would have far rather been scolded into the next century, or grounded for a month, or spanked with a spoon. Even with Severus's notes, reading through the History of Magic text had been dreadfully boring, though at least the notes in the margin made it interesting and clarified certain things, otherwise Harry wouldn't have understood half of what he had read, the language was so archaic.

It was worse than reading Sev Half-Blood's journal, though at least that was cool. Now why couldn't Dad give me a test on those? He had read all five volumes of his ancestor's memoirs, all of them jam packed with adventure, new sights, travel tips, spells, romance and evil villains. It was like reading the best sort of novel, only it was true. By the time he had finished the last volume, he felt as if he had known Severus Prince.

He glanced at his watch, and saw to his horror that twenty minutes had gone by. Merlin! Better quit daydreaming and get cracking on your exam, Harry, because if you turn in an incomplete, not even Sev Prince's ghost will be able to save your arse from the wrath of Severus Snape.

He bent over the exam paper again, scribbling frantically.

* * * * * *

It was with a profound sigh of relief that Harry finished writing the last word on his essay and straightened up from his desk. His back felt like one huge throbbing ache and his fingers were stained with ink, but at last he was done and could turn the exam into his father, who was probably in the kitchen, having one last cup of tea and some scones with Draco.

Leaving the paper on his desk, Harry went to wash up, using a special solution Severus had made to get the ink stains off his hands. He had also told Harry that the same solution was mixed in with the soap in the dispensers at Hogwarts, so the ink stains came off easily and students didn't have to bother asking him for the Ink Gone Solution.

Hands now clean, he fetched the exam paper with a hastily murmured Accio, and made his way down the hall to the kitchen, where he witnessed Severus giving Draco a sound trouncing in a game of wizard chess.

"Merlin, Dad! You ought to play professionally, like in a tournament," groaned Draco.

"I haven't the time," smirked Severus. "But maybe someday, when I'm not teaching hormonal teenagers and bringing up a couple of hellions, I might consider it."

Harry edged into the kitchen. "Dad? I'm finished."

Severus held out his hand for the exam. "Right on time too." He glanced at the exam. "I'll have this back to you some time tomorrow." He eyed his son sternly. "And you had better hope you earned a higher mark on this than your previous one, Mr. Snape. Otherwise your broom is mine again."

Harry blanched. "No! Please! I'm sure I did better, I didn't fall asleep and I actually read the material this time, Dad. Uh, what's an acceptable grade?"

"An E or above."

"What? What's wrong with an A? That's Acceptable!"

"Not for this. This is remedial work and you had my notes to help you," his father said implacably. "So, Mr. Snape, I'll repeat, you had better have earned a decent mark on this exam."

Harry began to pray fervently, muttering, "Greasy perfectionist git!" under his breath at the same time.

Severus darted a piercing glance at him. "Excuse me? What was that?"

"Nothing, sir," Harry said hastily, flushing.

"That's what I thought." He vanished the exam to his desk in his study, he would peruse it later that evening, when the boys were asleep.

Harry went to fetch himself some tea and a scone, they were chocolate chip ones tonight, and settled down at the table next to Draco to eat. "Play you in a game of chess?" offered Harry.

"You're on. You, I know I can beat."

"Right. I've learned a few things since the last time we played."

"Oh? Like how to lose in three moves or less?"

"Ha! Very funny. No, I learned a move that'll knock you flat, Malfoy."

"Can't wait to see that." Draco grinned, then went to set up the board again.

* * * * * *

Later on, while Severus sat in his study and graded Harry's History of Magic exam, and the two teenagers slept, Smidgen alighted on Draco's desk and entered a light trance so she could keep watch over the boys' dreams, as Severus had asked her to. It was then that she noticed the misty figure approaching Harry's bed, floating a good three feet above the floor.

The shimmerling's violet eyes narrowed as she read the specter's aura, and discovered it was a normal blue-green, colors denoting peacefulness, goodwill, and friendship. The misty figure, who was dressed in a style of High Court finery that had gone out of fashion some centuries ago, turned to her and bowed.

"Correct, lady catkin. I am Severus-Prince-That-Was, son of Gwydion and Alshiara, grandson of Merlin Ambrosius. And incidentally, a Guardian of this manor."

* * * * * * *

* * * * * *

He opened his eyes to a new day, the sun was streaming in golden motes across the carpet and dancing up the side of his comforter. He yawned and sat up, recalling immediately the very odd dream he had last night. Until he felt something odd and heavy on his chest and glanced down to see the medallion in his dream about his neck.

Huh? What's this? He rubbed his eyes, sure he was seeing things. Then he snatched his glasses off the nightstand and stuck them on. The vision remained the same. The Medallion of Inheritance was still about his neck. Dazed, he cupped the medallion in his hand, lifting it off his chest and peering at it sharply.

It was large, at least two inches in diameter, made of heavy silver with gold about the rim. It bore the crest of a winged serpent hovering above a golden chalice, with the motto Knowledge and Magic Forever etched about the design in Latin.

It felt warm to the touch, and was the exact duplicate of the one Severus wore about his neck.

Harry traced the design of the winged serpent and chalice with his thumb, it was raised slightly from the center of the silver disk, recalling with crystal clarity the dream he had, and the conversation that had passed between him and his ancestor, Severus Prince.

"Remember this, Harry, and when you awake, you shall have proof that this was not just a dream, young wizard. Fare thee well, Heir Apparent."

His ancestor's parting words echoed in his head, and he thought with a kind of shocked wonder, It really happened, it wasn't just some crazy dream. Here's the proof, in my hand and around my neck, just as he said. I'm the new heir to Prince Manor.

He let the medallion drop then, it landed against his chest with a soft thump. Atop Draco's desk, Smidgen stretched and woke, her nose twitching at the faint residue of magic in the air. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the medallion about Harry's neck, one could hardly miss it, it looked so odd against his rumpled T-shirt.

She took wing from the desk and came over to Harry, her violet eyes alight with curiosity and satisfaction. :Ah. So the estate has chosen the new heir at last. I had wondered what was taking it so long. Your ancestor visited you last night in a dream, yes?:

"Yeah, he did. How'd you know, Smidgen?"

:He and I exchanged a few words before he entered your dreams,: replied the shimmerling, sniffing the medallion. :I had a feeling in my bones that his appearance might herald the choosing of the new heir. And the medallion is proof positive of it. Congratulations, Harry. The manor does not place its trust lightly.:

"I know." Harry whispered, twisting about to glance across the room at Draco, who was snuggled under the covers.

:He sleeps still,: Smidgen mewed softly.

"Good. Because I want to tell my father first about this." He tapped the medallion with a finger.

:Indeed, apprentice. Nothing comes without a cost, and with great power comes great responsibility. But the manor would not have chosen you if you were not able to handle it.: Smidgen said serenely.

"Right," Harry said, and felt a small ember of pride begin to burn deep within him. He would do his utmost to prove that the manor had chosen right in making him the heir apparent. "But when am I going to learn all the stuff I need to know about the manor, Smidgen? I go back to school in three days."

:That is something you're going to have to ask your father, for I don't know the answer to that question.:

"Yeah. But what about you, Smidgen? When we leave to go to Hogwarts, where will you be? Will you return to the Queen's court like Sarai?"

:I cannot, Harry. I am bound to you until I repay my debt. So where you go, so too shall I.:

"You're coming to Hogwarts with me?"

:If that is your destination, then yes. Fear not, I can mask myself sufficiently so that none save your father, brother, and you know I am there. None may see me unless I wish it, that is part of a shimmerling's magic. And this way I can keep an eye on you and see if an opportunity arises to repay my debt to you.:

"Can I tell my friends about you?"

:Harry, it is best if you do not, at least not until I have seen for myself what kind of people they are. Mortals have not been kind to the fae over the centuries and we do not trust them as we used to. The fewer who know about me, the better.:

"Okay. I'll be quiet, but Ron and Hermione would never harm you." Harry told her, and hoped that once she got to know them, she would trust them the way he did. "Speaking of Ron, I have to deliver his birthday present still." He whistled Zephyr over, and the pretty gray and white owl settled on the comforter before him. "Hey, Zephyr. Want to go to your new home, with a very cool wizard who will love a beautiful owl like you?"

Zephyr hooted softly, and rubbed his head alongside Harry's wrist.

"Okay. Here's your first official assignment. Deliver this letter and yourself to Ron Weasley, at the Burrow." Harry ordered, hastily scribbling a note and placing it in an envelope and sealing it. He addressed it and then gave it to the owl, who took it gently in his beak.

"Zephyr, you do know where to go, don't you?"

The owl blinked his bright amber eyes and bobbed his head in answer.

"All right, then. Go deliver the mail. And behave for Ron, y'hear? I'll miss you, but you're going to a great home and a better master." He stroked the owl for a long moment, he had grown fond of the bird over the summer, but he knew it was time to let him go.

Hedwig and Stormy woke and came to nuzzle their fledgling farewell, cooing softly to him, before stepping away.

Then Zephyr took wing and the last glimpse Harry had of him was the flick of his tail as he glided above the treetops, then he vanished into the Evermist.

The boy waved once to the departed owl before turning away from the window and heading out of his room to find his father.

* * * * * *

He found Severus industriously watering the vegetable garden, as was his wont in the early hours of the morning, when all was calm and cool. Harry approached him silently, but the elder wizard always seemed to know he was about, and turned to face him.

"Morning, Harry. If you want your grade for your exam, I've posted it on the board next to your chore list. What are you doing awake at this hour of the morning? Were you that anxious over your History of Magic exam?"

"Uh . . .sort of. I had a strange dream last night, Dad." Harry began.

"Oh? What about?"

"I dreamed that our ancestor, Severus Prince, came to me and he gave me the Medallion of Inheritance. Only when I woke up this morning, I found it wasn't just a dream, because this was around my neck." Harry held up the medallion.

Severus came forward to examine the medallion, even though he knew already what it looked like. "So. The manor has chosen another heir apparent. I had wondered when it was going to do so." He smiled at his son. "I had suspected it might pick you, Harry, but once Draco came here to live as well, I was no longer certain of anything. Until now. Congratulations, Harry. We ought to have a special dinner to celebrate." He drew his son into a hug, clapping him warmly on the back.

"All right. I just hope Draco is okay with it," Harry said, feeling a sliver of uneasiness creep through the joy that had surrounded him. "I think he was sort of hoping the manor might pick him."

"That doesn't matter now. The manor has chosen and its choice is irrevocable. Besides, Draco has his own inheritance as the heir of Malfoy Manor. So don't you dare feel guilty over being chosen the heir to Prince Manor, Harry Albus Snape!" Severus told him firmly.

"I don't. Not really," said Harry, then added at his father's knowing look, "Okay, maybe I do, a little, considering what happened to him with his mother and all."

"I told you before, Harry, not to feel sorry for me," Draco said softly from behind them. He, like Harry, was still wearing his pajamas.

Harry spun about so fast he nearly toppled over. Only Severus's outstretched hand kept him upright. "Draco! You're awake? Holy Merlin, it's a miracle!"

"Yeah, whatever, Snape. I couldn't sleep after the weird dream I had last night."

"You too?" Harry exclaimed.

"Yeah. My half-fae ancestor Sev Half Blood came to me in a dream and asked me all sorts of crazy questions, like where the heart of the manor was and what makes a home and whether I considered the manor my true home. Why?"

"Because I had the same dream, Draco. And when I woke up . . .I had this around my neck." Harry held up the Medallion of Inheritance.

"But that's the Medallion of Inheritance," Draco murmured. "Then that means you're the heir to Prince Manor."

"Yeah." Harry gazed at his brother uneasily, hoping the manor's choice would not cause a rift between them, not when their relationship had finally become something meaningful.

Draco looked at his brother and the medallion for a full minute before saying, "Good. I'm glad the manor chose you, Harry. Because I still consider Malfoy Manor my true inheritance. When I come of age, I'm going to go back there and clean the place up, cleanse it of the dark aura my father cast about it, so I can live in it again."

"Oh. Then you really don't mind?"

Draco scowled. "Something wrong with your hearing, little brother? Pay attention, won't you?" He playfully boxed Harry's ears. "No, I don't mind at all. The manor chooses its own."

"Ow! Quit it, Draco!" Harry rubbed his ear.

"Don't be such a baby. That didn't hurt." Draco smirked. "C'mon, Heir Apparent. Let's go get breakfast. I'm starving, all of a sudden." He headed back inside the manor.

Harry remained a moment longer, turning to Severus and saying, "Dad, Smidgen and Sev Prince mentioned that I'm going to have to learn all the manor's secrets and powers now."

"That's correct. As heir apparent, you will need instruction in certain things," Severus agreed. "However, said instruction must wait until next summer, by then you'll be more experienced with certain types of magic and have greater control over your power. We can take the entire summer if necessary and explore this manor from top to bottom and I will reveal you to all the secrets it holds. Will that suit you?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry said in relief, for he had feared his father was going to insist he learn everything in three days. "Next summer is fine."

"Good. Now go and see your exam grade, son, before you give yourself an ulcer fretting over it."

Harry chuckled softly, then hurried inside to see what he had gotten on his new History of Magic exam.

When he entered the kitchen, he found Draco making scrambled eggs, ham, and fried potatoes. Before he could comment on that unbelievable sight, he turned to look at the wall where Snape had posted their daily chore schedule. Next to the parchment with his name was his History of Magic exam.

And below that was a large O written in red ink.

Harry felt a huge smile explode onto his face. He had actually done it. He had earned himself an O from his perfectionist Potions Master. Granted, it wasn't in potions, but Harry knew Severus had graded his history exam with the same exacting standards he did his potions tests. "Hey, Draco. Take a look at this."

He showed his brother the exam paper.

Draco's mouth fell open. "Bloody damn hell, Harry! You got an O in History of Magic. That's unheard of."

"Only ‘cause Dad was the one grading it. Too bad it won't count." Harry sighed wistfully.

"Maybe it will, if you show it to Dumbledore at the beginning of next term," Draco suggested. "Maybe he might let you combine the scores and get an Acceptable or better."

"I never thought of that. That's real smart, Draco."

"Course it is. Severus Snape never raised any dumb sons," Draco smirked, then turned back to cooking breakfast.

Harry re-stuck the History of Magic exam back up on the wall and whistled happily as he set the table and got out the syrup and butter. "Hey, Draco. I sent Ron Zephyr this morning as a birthday gift. Maybe you might want to do the same with Athena and Hermione."

"Right. I'll send Athena off right after breakfast. But I want your word you won't tell Hermione anything, or else your arse is going to be kicked from here to the Deepwood, little brother. Got me?"

"I hear you, loverboy," teased Harry. "Make sure you sign the note, XOXO A Secret Admirer."

"Get bent, Harry," growled Draco, flushing. Then he turned back to scrambling his eggs with a vengeance, ignoring his brother snickering in the background.

When Severus came in the kitchen about ten minutes later, he found breakfast on the table and his two sons and Smidgen sitting at the table waiting for him. Severus slid into his chair at the head of the table, noting with pride the way Harry's medallion caught the dawn's light and glistened, just the way his own did.

The last three days of the summer holidays sped by quicker than shadows fleeing the sunlight. Before he knew it, it was their last night at the manor, and Harry was packing his trunk to go off to school, along with Draco. Normally, the prospect of going back to Hogwarts would have filled him with delight, but on this night, he was feeling a pang of regret and sorrow. Privet Drive had never been his home, simply a place he stayed during the summer when he was not in school. But Prince Manor . . .the estate was in his blood now, and he was bonded to it in a way that none save his father could understand. Leaving it, even if it were only for nine months, was going to hurt.

He would miss it, miss the way the sunlight touched the tops of the merlinna trees in the morning, miss the way he could look out his window and see the oak tree where Hedwig had first made a nest for the owlets, all of whom were given away, save for Frost, whom he had decided to keep. He would miss seeing Severus working in the garden, with his old clothes and gardening shoes, planting and watering. He would miss the way the evening shadows lengthened along the grounds and dappled the pond where Draco loved to fish. And miss the walks through the woods and flying through the orchard, picking merlinnas and peaches at dawn. Most of all though, he would miss the easy camaraderie that the three of them had shared here at the manor, for he knew that some of that would be lost once they returned to Hogwarts.

Severus had agreed to permit Harry to take his name publically, and had gone to the Ministry to file a paternity claim the other morning and sign several forms. "More parchment-pushing, Merlin help me," he'd grumbled before Apparating away. But he'd returned in a good mood, all the legalities settled, thanks to a vial of Harry's blood and a Paternity Potion, and now Harry was officially Harry Albus Snape, son of Severus Tobias Snape, heir to Prince Manor.

He'd also picked up a copy of the Prophet, whose headlines now screamed Mother Rejects Son, Taken to Task By Guardian! And Purebloods Convicted By Unanimous Decree! With regards to the Malfoys' trial and aftermath. Draco had taken one look at the headlines and snorted, rubbing his scarred cheek gently.

Still, even though legally the wizarding world recognized him as Snape's son, Harry knew that things between them at Hogwarts would not be as they had been at the manor, despite Severus's changed status as a spy for the Order. For one thing, there were still those who supported Voldemort in Slytherin and Harry was still a Gryffindor. Harry had decided to put the Glamour of his old face back for the train ride to Hogwarts, he didn't want to endure questions on the ride, far better to deal with them at school. Severus had already owled Dumbledore and discussed the fact that he would reveal that Harry was his son at the opening staff meeting and the Heads could then inform their Houses afterwards. Then Harry could remove the Glamour and show the school his true self. And then there was Draco, who was in almost the same situation, how could the two of them reveal that they were brothers without seeming insane?

Harry tossed his schoolbooks, including Severus's History of Magic text, into the bottom of his trunk. He would worry about all of that later, after the train ride and the feast, he still hadn't told Ron or Hermione about Draco yet, that conversation was sure to be interesting, to say the least. And probably take up the entire ride to school.

"Draco, are you going to tell Crabbe and Goyle about me being your brother?" he inquired, folding his school robes and putting them in his trunk.

"Yeah, why? Are you going to tell Weasley and Granger?" the blond asked, placing his Quidditch uniform in his own trunk.

"Yeah, I was. But what does that mean for us at school? Should we tell anyone else?"

Draco looked thoughtful. "I don't know about that just yet, little brother. Some of the members of my House are a little . . .prejudiced and right now I'm going to have enough to deal with trying to keep from being slaughtered in my sleep by them ‘cause I'm a traitor to the Dark Lord without bringing up the fact that I'm a Gryffindor's big brother too."

"Slaughtered in your sleep?" Harry repeated, horrified. "Does Dad know? Maybe you should move into his quarters or something."

"Yes, he knows, and he plans on issuing some warnings of his own the next term, so don't get your shorts in a twist, Harry. I'll be fine, I know how to deal with backstabbers, learned that from Lucius. Once they settle down, we'll see about letting the school know that you're not just my pain-in-the-arse cousin. Sound fair?"

Harry thought it over. Then he nodded. "Okay. But no calling me little brother in public, Draco. Or else . . .I'll tell Hermione you're sweet on her."

Draco glared at him. "You do and I'll hex you so bad your arse and your head will be reversed. And Dad can wallop me all he likes afterward and I won't give a damn."

Harry made a face at him. "Fine. Just so you know."

"Watch it, brat!"

"Watch what? You going all unicorn-eyed over Hermione in her school uniform?"

"Harry . . .don't make me come over there."

Harry muffled his laughter in his sleeve, not wanting to start another fight with Draco on their last night here. Still, Draco had become remarkably easy to tease now that he had admitted his feelings for one Hermione Granger, his brother though mischievously.

Abruptly, he stopped packing and looked out the window at the sun sinking down below the treetops and sighed. "Merlin, but I . . .wish I didn't have to leave here." His hand went automatically to the medallion under his shirt.

There was silence from across the room, then Draco said quietly, "Me too. I'm gonna miss it here. Except for a few things, like doing the bloody laundry by hand."

"Or scrubbing the dungeon with a toothbrush."

"Or picking weeds in the entire garden."

The two continued reminiscing over their hated punishment chores for a few more minutes, until Draco scowled and said, "Okay, little brother, enough with the sentimental stuff. It's making me sick. Besides, we both know half of those chores were your doing."

"Me? You were the one who started half the crap with me, Draco!"

"The hell I did. Who knocked me on the ground first after that race through the orchard, huh?"

"You were being an insufferable prat and cheating!"

"A shortcut is not cheating, bonehead!"

"We never agreed on a shortcut, so yes it is!"

"Harry, sometimes you are so dumb, it's a miracle you ever graduated primary school."

"Look who's talking! You didn't even know how to wash a dish till you came here, Mr. Brilliant!"

"Why you-!"

"Boys! Don't make me come in there!" yelled their father warningly and both of them jumped about a foot. Then they shut up.

"Now look what you did," grumbled Harry, shooting Draco a Snape glare. Stupid sly Slytherin prat!

Draco glared right back at him, then turned to grab his books off his desk, giving Harry the silent treatment with his nose in the air. Bloody stubborn Gryffindor git!

Smidgen flew into the room then, her nose wrinkled in disapproval. :Quarreling again, are we? Typical brothers, the pair of you. Sun, Moon, and Stars have mercy!:

Just another typical day at Prince Manor, the shimmerling thought wryly, curling up in the middle of Harry's bed and beginning to groom her shining black fur.

* * * * * *

The tall black-robed wizard stood on Platform 9 and 3/4's amid two school trunks and four owl cages, with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering sternly at the two teenagers before him, one wearing Slytherin colors and the other Gryffindor. He was clearly lecturing them on the upcoming school year, admonishing them in typical parental fashion.

" . . .remember I am Professor Snape to you in class, not Dad. I will not have it said that I play favorites with my sons."

"Merlin forbid!" Draco muttered under his breath.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course we'd never call you Dad in class. We want to live till we graduate, you know."

"Really?" one eyebrow arched up over a familiar snarky sneer. "Mind your tone then, young man, or else you won't live to see Christmas break, because I'll have used you for an experimental potion way before then. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The exasperated parent heaved a sigh and continued. "I will also be monitoring your grades, boys, and any slacking or procrastination will result in you being moved into my quarters for the duration of the year, where I can personally supervise your studying." Both boys blanched, and he went on with an evil smirk. "Also, any detention you earn from a teacher will be reported to me and I will then give you additional detentions and punishments for embarrassing me in front of my colleagues."

"WHAT? No fair, sir!" protested Draco. "Nobody else gets in trouble twice at school."

"Nobody else is my son either, young man. So best you behave, Draco Michael. That also means no fighting of any kind with each other for any reason, the same as it was at home. Or else you know what awaits you, need I remind you?"

Both boys blushed and studied their shoes.

"No, sir," Harry answered, squirming uncomfortably as he recalled the humiliating memory of being turned over his father's knee for a sound spanking a mere two days ago for getting into a fistfight with Draco.

He had gone too far with teasing the other boy over Hermione and Draco had lost his temper and punched him in the mouth, Harry retaliated by hitting Draco in the stomach, and before they knew it they were brawling like cats and dogs. Until Severus had come in and yanked them off each other by their ears, scolded them soundly, and kept the promise he had made earlier of spanking them like a pair of naughty four-year-olds. It had been utterly embarrassing, not to mention it stung like hell too.

Beside him, Draco shuffled his feet and gazed down at the pavement, the tips of his ears a bright scarlet as he too recalled the humiliating outcome of their last fight. No way did he want his father doing that to him at school, at home had been bad enough! "We remember, sir."

"I should certainly hope so." Severus intoned sternly. He had hated keeping that promise, but he had known better than to go back on his word, no matter how much he had wished to. "Because next time I catch you beating the blazes out of each other over some stupid comment, I'll blister your behinds with the spoon. So don't test me," he warned, hoping that awful threat would deter them from further brawling.

"We'll behave, sir," the two chorused emphatically.

"For once in your lives," the professor said sarcastically. Then he cleared his throat and said softly, "Remember this as well. If you ever need anything, advice, extra quills, a book, money, a potion, peace and quiet, anything at all, my door is always open. Don't hesitate to come on in, I will always be there for you, any time of the day or night. Just like I am at home." Then he caught both boys to him in a rather awkward hug and whispered, "You have both made me very proud this summer, no father could ask for better sons. I love you."

His two sons clung to him for a long moment, reveling in his sincere praise and the strength of his arms about them.

"Love you too, Dad," Harry answered, sniffling a little.

He was echoed by Draco, who swiped a quick hand across his face.

Then they stepped back quickly, praying no one else had seen them being hugged by their strict perfectionist Potions professor, even if he happened to be their father.

Just then the train pulled up to the station with a loud screech and a whistle, making the two younger owls hoot in alarm, until Hedwig soothed them with a soft chirrup.

The two boys turned to gather their trunks, waving hello to Hagrid, who had agreed to escort the students back to Hogwarts this year at Dumbledore's request.

"Hurry, boys. I will see you later at the feast." Severus urged, then he turned away, picked up Phantom's cage, and walked swiftly towards the exit before anyone could see the sudden tears in his eyes. Luckily everyone else had arrived just then and all was chaos as they attempted to load everyone's belongings upon the train and board in a timely fashion. Get hold of yourself, Snape! You're becoming as sentimental as Albus, crying over a little thing like sending your sons off to school. They're fourteen, not five, for Merlin's sake. And you'll see them in three hours, you maudlin idiot.

Still, the black-robed figure paused before making his way off the platform, watching until his boys had gotten on the train, blinking hard, a faint smile on his stern features. Take care of my boys, Hagrid. My Dragon and my Phoenix. They are the most important things in the world to me. Well, except for a certain half-fae warrior, but who's counting? Then he Apparated away in a flash of blue light, going to his classroom to prepare for the new term, where he would put the fear of God into a new generation of rambunctious, disrespectful, know-it-all teenage wizards. After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

Harry boarded the train, holding tightly to Hedwig and Frost's cages, wondering why the Express seemed so much more crowded this year than last year. Had they gotten an influx of students or something?

"Harry! There you are!" Ron waved to him from a compartment two doors down. "What kept you, mate?"

"Uh, I was saying goodbye to my . . .dad," Harry said awkwardly, making his way into the compartment and plunking down both cages on the opposite seat, next to Ron's new cage with Zephyr inside.

"Oh." Ron said, then blushed a bit, not knowing what else to say. It was hard to imagine Snape, of all people, saying goodbye to his son. Then he remembered he still owed Harry a proper thank you for his belated birthday present. "By the way, Harry, thanks loads for Zephyr. He's . . .incredible, much better than any owl anybody in my family ever had. . Percy was like, green with envy, when Zephyr showed up at the Burrow with the letter, know what I mean?" Ron's eyes were shining. "Now I finally have a pet of my own that's not a family heirloom, and he's just the coolest thing. I gave Pigwidgeon to Ginny, so she could have her own owl."

Harry smiled. "You're welcome, Ron. I couldn't give Hedwig's son to just anybody, you know."

Just then Hermione burst into the compartment, carrying Crookshanks's carrier in one hand and a cage with Athena in it in the other. She was smiling brightly. "Hi, Harry! Hi, Ron! You'll never guess what happened three days ago. I received the oddest package in the mail . . .this owl named Athena here, along with a note that said she was a gift from someone who . . ." Here Hermione broke off, blushing. " . . .admired my brains and my talent and the way my . . .uh, hair blew in the breeze. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before."

"Sounds like somebody's sweet on you, Mione," remarked Ron, snickering.

"Yeah, I wonder who it could be?" Harry added, concealing a knowing smirk behind his hand. Nice going, big brother!

He slid over to make room for Hermione and her pets, she was clearly flattered and curious about the author of the gift and Harry knew she would be trying to figure out who it could be all through the train ride.

"Umm . . .Harry?" Hermione was peering at him intently.

"Yeah?"

"I was just wondering. . .if the professor's your dad, why don't you look like him? You still look the way you did before."

Harry shook his head. Trust Hermione to notice that right off. "It's a Glamour spell, we didn't want to cause a row on the train or during the feast. Once Dad tells the rest of the staff, the Glamour will be reversed and I'll look the way I did at home, my real self. You'll see, later on. I really am his son." Then he decided to change the subject. "So, how was your summer, Ron?"

"Same old, same old. You know," Ron shrugged. "The best part was you giving me Zephyr." Then he leaned forward and said, "How was your summer, Harry? Living with Snape at . . .where did you say it was again?"

"Prince Manor," replied Harry, cupping the medallion beneath his shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a turquoise and violet wing and a black form as Smidgen blinked into the compartment and settled herself atop Hedwig's cage with a sly wink.

"Ooh, it sounds lovely, Harry," sighed Hermione dreamily, and Ron rolled his eyes. "What was it like there? Tell us everything!"

"Everything? Are you sure you really want to know about everything me and my family did over the summer? Some of it was pretty boring."

"Harry! With Severus Snape as your father, nothing is ever boring," Hermione pointed out. "And what's this I hear about Draco Malfoy living there too? Now spill it!"

"Okay, okay, keep your skirt on, Hermione. I'll tell you as much as I can," laughed the heir to Prince Manor, though not everything, of course. Then he began his tale, beginning with the morning he had woken up early and gone down to cook breakfast at Privet Drive, to discover a bloodied and battered Potions Master upon his aunt's brand new suede couch. Little did he know that said discovery would change the course of his life forever, and give him at last the very thing he had always longed for-a home and family of his own.

His two friends listened, spellbound, as Harry related the events of that most unusual summer, when the manor had chosen him as Heir Apparent, and he had gained a father and a brother and a place where he belonged.