Harry slowly got back into his normal routine: attending classes, practicing Quidditch, doing homework, and dodging hexes from the Slytherins; but some things had changed, and Harry thought they had changed for the better. He had a father who loved him, a new friend in his god-brother, and he no longer was bottom in potions.

Every Sunday Whitney came by for dinner in the Snape rooms and then he sat Harry and Draco down for some group and then individual therapy. The boys were slowly coming to term with their past abuse and Whitney was proud of their progress. He especially liked the fact that they had each made their own vow to stop being victims, face the abuse and begin to stare it down. It would still be a long time before he could declare that the scars on their souls were no longer open and bleeding, but the path was before them and they could see the light at the end of it. Both boys had strong characters and were very resilient in nature, whether they realised it or not, and they would recover. Having each other to lean on helped tremendously.

Harry was able to relax in his tower with most of his friends. Ron was simply ignoring him, but not being outright hostile. Harry missed the boy’s friendship, but he managed to get on without it. Instead he studied voraciously with Hermione, helped Neville and played games with Dean and Seamus, who had declared a truce after Neville’s retaliation. The twins were still pulling pranks on unsuspecting students and their favourite targets were the second-year Slytherin’s – although Draco was considered off-limits for the more vicious pranks. They still would pull an occasional funny one on him, just for laughs and he was a good sport about it, most of the time. They had whispered once to Harry that if Neville hadn’t taken care of the problem during their first week, they had been prepared to prank the other three themselves – in the Great Hall at dinner the next evening. Harry was glad that hadn’t come to pass; sometimes the twin’s pranks bordered on nasty.

Harry also kept an eye on the youngest Weasley, Ginny. She didn’t seem to be making many friends in her year – although a young Muggle-born, Colin Creevey, seemed to have a bit of a crush on her. Of course he also had a case of hero-worship for Harry, and Harry found himself trying to escape the younger boy’s ever-present camera. But the girl was quiet and kept to herself most of the time, writing in an old diary she carried around with her when not doing homework. In the meantime, Gertrude was keeping quiet and almost everyone had passed off the two attacks as flukes.

Some nights, Harry would use his cloak and sneak out of the dorm to meet up with Draco and they would start exploring the castle after curfew. Many times they had close calls with Filch, but the cloak seemed to protect them. Once they nearly had a heart attack after almost running straight into Dumbledore and Severus. They had to flatten themselves up against the wall and hold their hands over their mouths so no sound escaped. Harry was sure, though, that Dumbledore knew they were there as he had shot a twinkling look in their direction as he had passed. The boys waited until the two older wizards were past, then returned quickly to their dormitories. They cut down their explorations to maybe once a week after that adventure.

Quidditch was also gearing up, and the week before the Gryffindor/Slytherin game was one of the worst for Harry. Slytherins had ramped up their attacks to include the entire Gryffindor squad, but saved their most vicious attacks for Harry. On Friday that week, after Herbology, Harry had been pinned to the wall from a well-placed hex and left dangling there. The deadly trio – as he and Draco had named Nott’s gang – had laughed all the way towards the entrance to the dungeons on their way to potions. Harry had managed to mutter the activation phrase to the Portkey that was hanging under his shirt against his skin, and was whisked away to his room.

Severus banged open the door a moment later, muttering a Finite under his breath, as he took in his son’s condition.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, Dad – just a bit bruised. Merlin, I’ll be glad when this game is over!” Harry said as he scrambled off his bed, book bag swinging in his hand.

“You and me both! Who was it this time?” Severus asked as they headed toward the lounge area.

“Dad, I’m not going to squeal… it’ll just make things worse. I just want to get to class. The look on their faces when I’m sitting there before them will make it worth it.” This statement, of course, clarified the identity of the perpetrators for Severus, but he just nodded. They headed out through Salazar’s portrait and cut through Severus’ office where Harry gingerly took his seat, the first student there. The look on the trio’s faces when they arrived was well worth it.

Severus had been looking for the reaction and smirked in satisfaction, and since the three were abysmal potion makers, he delighted in making their afternoon especially hellish. Draco looked askance at first his Godfather, and then his brother, not knowing what had happened – but Harry shook his head, concentrating on their potion instead. He would explain later.

****

The game day dawned bright and chilly, frost gilding the edges of the grass, and the slates on the roofs of the castle. The trees seemed to be putting on an especially colourful show for the Gryffindor spectators, flashing their fall colours of red and gold, with touches of orange sprinkled amongst them.

Harry had slipped down to breakfast early, not able to stay asleep any longer. His stomach was roiling in anticipation of his first game of the season and he ended up just picking at his bowl of oatmeal. He was looking forward, and also not looking forward, to his coming test of skills against his god-brother, and it just increased the amount of acid in his stomach. He eventually gave it up as a lost cause, grabbed some toast and his broom and headed out to sit on a rock near the lake until game time. He shredded the toast, instead of eating it, and threw pieces of it absentmindedly to the Giant Squid who was languishing in the shallows, while contemplating the game ahead.

He eventually entered the team locker room to find it in an uproar.

“What’s going on?” he asked the twins.

“Wood found out that the Slytherin’s all have new brooms, Nimbus two thousand and ones,” Fred answered.

“Where’d they get them from?” Harry asked as he began to lace up his Quidditch vest and pull on his pads and gloves.

“Funny you should ask that,” said George, conspiratorially. “Apparently from Malfoy senior.”

Harry gawked at the older boy. “You’ve got to be joking!”

“Nope, they arrived this morning at breakfast and Wood’s all in a dither since this throws his strategies right out the window. It’s all up to you, Harriekins,” Fred pointed out. And sure enough, as Harry was pulling on the last of his Quidditch uniform, Woods was at his side, jabbering a mile a minute, giving last minute instructions to his smallest, but keenest weapon.

Finally, though, Harry’d had enough. “Oliver, I get it! Get the Snitch or die trying!” he growled to his leader.

“Well, not die…” the captain hedged. The twins just snorted as they walked past, on their way to the starting platform. Harry brushed his captain off, grabbed his broom and stormed off after the redheads. Woods could really annoy him at times with his fanaticism.

Madame Hooch blew the whistle and the teams flew off their platforms into the cheering crowds, taking a couple of laps around the field while the announcer, Lee Jordan, listed off the team rosters. Harry felt the rush of adrenaline that always came when a game started. It pushed away his annoyance with his captain, his worry over competing against his god-brother, and replaced it with eager anticipation instead. He felt good, and the smile on his face showed it. He nodded to Draco across the circle as they waited for the balls to be released, and Draco smiled back, then they both returned their concentration to the centre field.

Hooch now stood in the centre of the field, hand on her own broom, and released the balls with a kick to the trunk, causing a mad scramble for possession of the Quaffle before mounting her own trusty conveyance. Harry looked around for the snitch, flying circles around the top of the action. He spotted Draco doing the same thing on the other side of the pitch. They gave a quick nod to each other before resuming their searches.

A glint of gold caught his eye and he dived for it before realising it was someone’s watch glinting in the rapidly overcast sky. Unfortunately this brought him closer to the other players and he had to swerve to avoid a Bludger that nearly parted his hair for him. George managed to catch the ball and gave it a mighty whack with his bat that should have aimed it at a Slytherin chaser, but it reversed direction midway and headed back towards Harry instead.

Harry rolled over on his broom in a classic sloth grip, and came back up only to find the ball heading for him again.

This time it was Fred who blocked the ball, attempting to send it elsewhere, only to have the ball whip back around toward the small, black-haired seeker. While this was going on, Slytherin was scoring points on Gryffindor and were soon up by sixty, to the general groans from those wearing red and gold.

Harry tried to search for the Snitch while the twins ran interference, but it was impossible. To add insult to injury – it began to rain. At one point Draco flew by his brother and gave him a searching look.

“Snape, what in Merlin’s name is going on?”

“Wish I knew – that Bludger is acting bewitched! It keeps coming after me… WATCH OUT!”

Draco swerved just in time to avoid the rogue ball, which Fred hit off in to the nether reaches again.

“Don’t expect me to save your arse again, Malfoy!” the twin yelled as he got back into his self-appointed guard position.

“This isn’t much of a game, Harry!” the blond complained.

“Tell me about it! Gotta go!” Harry ducked as the iron ball came back. He and the twins flew around the pitch some more until Wood called a time out.

“What the hell is going on?” he yelled when the team gathered in a corner.

“It’s that Bludger, Oliver, it’s acting like it’s hexed,” George yelled back over the sound of the rainstorm.

“It can’t be, Hooch has had the balls since our last practice. They’ve been locked up in her office,” Wood explained.

“That may be, but it’s acting like it’s been hexed now. Maybe we should call the game – it keeps going after Harry, I think it’s trying to kill him!” Fred added.

“We can’t call the game…” Oliver started, but Harry cut him off while trying to dry off his glasses on his jersey.

“Look, this isn’t working with Fred and George guarding me. I need to just find the Snitch and get it over with – and I can’t do it with them flitting around me.”

“Flit? Do we ‘Flit’ Forge?” One twin looked over at his counterpart in mock concern.

“I think we’ve just been told that we do, Gred…” and the boys began flapping their hands at shoulder height until the girls hit them across the back of their heads. Harry smirked.

“I’m not kidding guys, I can outfly that thing – but not with you around me,” he explained.

“Harry, that thing is out to murder you! You can’t go back out there!” George said before turning on their captain. “You would have to insist he catch the Snitch ‘or die trying’, didn’t you? It’s your fault he has this attitude!”

But the captain ignored his beater, and instead Oliver gave Harry a keen look before nodding his head. “Alright, Snape, but you better catch that ball! And quickly!” he added as he spotted Madam Hooch heading in their direction and raising the whistle to her mouth. “Let’s go!”

The team rose as one and Harry began flying complicated patterns all over the field trying to outsmart the Bludger. Draco sat on his broom and laughed. “Trying out for the ballet, Snape?”

“Yeah, Swan lake… in the air; catch me if you can, Malfoy!” and he barrel rolled under the Slytherin as he finally spotted the little golden ball below him. Draco cursed and began his dive as well when he finally realized Harry wasn’t faking, but Harry was well ahead of him, reaching for his prize when the Bludger came out of nowhere and smashed into his outstretched arm.

The pain was excruciating, causing the edges of his sight to fuzz out, but he sucked in his breath and, cradling his shattered arm against his chest, he let go of the broom with his remaining hand and reached out with it for the fluttering, winged ball. It was the greatest feeling of all when that little golden Snitch smacked into his hand and he dropped off his broom the remaining two feet to land groaning on the wet turf, Snitch raised to the cheering crowds.

He could see Draco above him and gave the blond an apologetic shrug and grin, before his screaming team surrounded him. Oliver led Madam Hooch over to where Harry lay, and Lockhart and McGonagall soon joined her, Snape being held behind by Dumbledore.

“Albus, is this really necessary? Harry was hurt by that Bludger – I need to see to him.”

“He’s alright, Minerva will get Pomfrey to attend to him. We need to see about this ball however, it appears to have been cursed…” but he was interrupted by a collective groan of disgust by the students surrounding Harry on the field.

Severus, fed up with his superior and wanting to see what had happened now, walked over to the ball resting innocently on the ground, blasted it into bits and walked past the stunned headmaster toward his son.

“Now we don’t need to worry anymore!” he snapped to his superior. He shouldered his way through the ring of children and found Minerva rounding on Gilderoy.

“What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing? You are supposed to wait for the Medi-witch!” she chided in a tone all to familiar to the surrounding Gryffindors. They all backed away, allowing their head more room to bluster at the flushing, blond professor.

“Well, it’s clearly not broken now!” he pointed out helpfully, trying to back pedal away from the angry head of house as well.

“Because there aren’t any bones left, you fool!” she barked, advancing on him.

Severus raised his eyes at this and looked down at his son. Sure enough, the boy’s arm resembled nothing more than a shapeless, flesh-coloured sack that quivered in his sleeve like gelatine.

“Oh, Harry…” he moaned. Harry looked up at his father.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Son, what am I going to do with you? Let’s get you to Pomfrey.” He helped the boy stand, throwing his own cloak around Harry’s shoulders to cover up the flopping appendage and began to lead him through the crowd of gawkers and up to the castle, sending a patented Snape glare, guaranteed to make a number two pewter cauldron melt on contact, at Lockhart – who had the grace to look chagrined.

Hermione and the team followed them up to the infirmary where Pomfrey fussed over him, put him into a bed after transfiguring his uniform into pyjamas, and served him the most disgusting potion he had taken yet, which his father told him was called Skele-grow, causing him to nearly spew on the spot. Only his father’s eyes on him forced him to swallow the foul draught.

“There now, you are going to have a night of it, Mr Potter-Snape. You have thirty-three bones to re-grow, and it is going to take all your strength. So, it’s off with you lot – you can see him tomorrow!” She bustled the team out the door as they called back ‘goodnight’s and ‘get well soon’s to him.

Snape Accio-ed a chair and sat down, preparing to spend the night at his son’s side. Harry was drifting off when he heard a small cough at the end of his bed, and he blearily opened his eyes to see Draco standing there.

“Hey,” the blond greeted him.

“Hey, yourself. Sorry about that, but the Bludger was pissing me off and I just had to get the ball before the Bludger killed me.”

“I understand. Not sure if my father will…”

“Those are cool brooms,” Harry began.

“Bribes. Call them what they are. He’s heard what I’ve said about him, and whom I support – he has spies all over Slytherin. He wants my affections back, and is trying to buy his way. It might’ve worked in the past – but not now. I know what he is, now.” Draco looked over at Severus. “I know what a real father should be like. I should’ve seen it sooner – but there you are.” He turned his gaze back on his injured friend. “Guess I was brainwashed as much as you, eh Snape?” He shrugged, and Severus gave him a rare smile before standing up and coming over to ruffle Draco’s hair affectionately before the blond could duck away in embarrassment.

“C’mon Draco, it’s time to head to dinner. I’ll walk you down. Harry, I’ll be back in a few minutes; try to rest, please.”

“I will, Dad. See you tomorrow, Drake.”

Draco nodded and let Severus lead him out of the infirmary while Harry leaned back into the pillows.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but apparently he had since his father was asleep by his side in the chair, and the infirmary was dark except for a hurricaned candle on his bedside table. He was startled to see numerous boxes of sweets and cards scattered across the table’s surface, but wasn’t awake enough to want to investigate them. Instead, he stared for a moment at the dancing flame, wondering why he had woken up when a small sound caught his ear. He jumped when his father’s hand moved quicker than lightening and snatched forward a familiar face.

Harry blinked a moment before exclaiming, “Dobby!”