The second day of classes didn’t start out nearly as eventful as the past few days. Severus was, well, not pleased. He was actually more than a little suspicious. So much so that he wore a vest under his teaching robes. It never hurt to be too careful, he’d learned. 

He’d roused Harry from his bed (why the messy haired nuisance couldn’t wake himself up at a descent hour was beyond him, really). The entire affair had taken some fifteen minutes, including a summoned bucket of water that magically turned to ice before vanishing out of his hands. He’d stared at the ceiling in exasperation, convinced that there was an easier way to do this and that the deities that governed the universe were content in him enduring this torture. He’d thought enviously of Molly Weasley, who had to have oodles and oodles of experience in this area, and vowed to corner the woman at his earliest convenience and demand that she divulge her secrets.

Having made his decision, Severus bodily lifted the teen from bed and carried him, upside down, into the kitchen before delivering a swift poke to the boy’s side.

Not quite the smartest thing to do.

Harry jerked, (and) Severus’ grip on the slim form slipped. The sleeping teen began a hasty headfirst descent to the cold, unrelenting dungeon floor. Heart racing and hands frantically grasping at the fabric of the boy’s clothes, Severus was stunned when Harry did some kind of magic ninja roll and blinked up at him sleepily from his position on the floor.

Sirius, in dog form, had promptly rolled out of the fireplace and immediately attacked his defenseless godson. Feeling satisfied with the boy’s suffering, Severus stalked over to the table, only to be attacked as well by a familiar head of blonde hair, and the body that went with it.

He looked down into the sparkling eyes of his godson. “Draco.”

“Hi Uncle Sev!” the boy cried loudly. Severus closed his eyes painfully. Draco had been born one of those unnatural types of humans: morning people.

“Dragon,” he said, fixing the smiling boy with his stoniest expression. “I have yet to consume my morning cup of tea. Do strive not to make either of us regret this more than necessary, understood?”

“’Kay,” Draco cried cheerfully.

Severus scowled. Any move geared towards removing the once-Malfoy from his person was similarly thwarted, and met with a carefree chuckle. He prayed for patience. Only two days with the mutt and his godson was already corrupted beyond measure.

“I am not corrupted beyond measure,” Draco laughed. “Siri’s sill got a ways to go.”

Severus blinked. Had he really said that out loud? Groaning, he hobbled over to the table, Draco still attached, and quickly fixed himself a cup of tea.

Sirius and Harry chose that moment to descend upon him in truly heinous fashion. Harry somehow managed to entwine his arms around his torso, despite Draco’s longer arms doing the same. Severus glared down at his two boys and growled.

They giggled.

Sirius, now as a human, gave him a cheerful grin as he sidled past on his way to the head of the table, where he pounced upon the unsuspecting plate of pancakes sitting there with a disturbing amount of ferocity.

Severus sighed heavily. Life was so unfair.

~^-^~

Being Harry, Harry decided, was so unfair. He’d been beaten and abused by his relatives for most of his life, marked by a deranged madman at only a year old, had said madman attempt to kill him three times in four years and endured a series of other unfortunate events it would take too long to detail, and now this.

He sprinted down one corridor and up another, panting hard and nursing a slight stitch in his side. He needed to find his guardian before that idiot Corbin did anything stupid.

And before Severus ripped the man’s throat out because Severus Snape was livid.

This morning’s classes had all gone on without a hitch, despite the wary looks on the faces of most students, who had all undoubtedly heard about what happened the day before. Zabini was still in hospital, Harry had learned, jumping at the slightest sound and terrified of his own shadow. Despite the boy’s complete disregard to Harry’s feelings, said teen couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the Slytherin student. It had to be hard to be under so much pressure and worry and then to suddenly have your supposed salvation turn up in the form of a kid no older than you. It was a stretch, but Harry could almost identify with Zabini. Not that he would ever say it out loud.

The other Slytherins all seemed to be sporting gleeful expressions (as much as they allowed themselves) and the general synopsis was that He-Was-Excessively-Evil didn’t stand a chance.

They’d been having a great lunch (in which the first years had somehow procured a table for themselves and set it up in front of the hall), when that bloody idiot had strolled up holding some colorful egg, demanding he touch it.

Harry simply looked at the man for a minute as if he were speaking French, shot a look at his guardian who was glaring fit to kill someone, and promptly asked Draco to explain.

From the Ravenclaw table, Draco had asked him how the hell he was supposed to know, and suggested he ask Granger.

Before Harry could even formulate a reply, Blondie the Pain was speaking.

“This is a Power Egg, Potter,” he had said in that reedy, pompous voice he had that made Harry want to smash things. “It measures the magical strength of a magical human, mostly for census purposes,” he had continued.

“So, Hogwarts is doing a census?” asked Harry.

“No, Potter,” Corbin had countered, looking amused. “A few concerns have been raised about your rather tenuous magical control, however. And in order to properly determine a mentor to instruct you in gaining more control over your magical power, we need to determine your power level, you understand.”

“What if it’s wrong?” Harry had asked curiously, shooting a look at the Potions Professor. The man took one look at his face and stalked over to the headmaster.

“It is never wrong,” Corbin said haughtily. “This is a magical artifact! It has been housed at the Ministry for centuries where it has been handled with the utmost care and deliberation.”

“O-kay,” Harry had replied, bemused.  “But what if there’s no one suitable to mentor me here at Hogwarts?”

William Corbin McDaniel III gave him an oily smile. “The Ministry of Magic is most delighted to be of service.” With that, the Power Egg was thrust into the air towards him and Harry, curse his Seeker senses, reached out instinctively to catch the valuable magical artifact before it met its tragic end.

There was a flash of white light, accompanied by a low, deep thrum that reverberated through the castle. The pieces of glass visible between the Egg’s elegant wrought iron design were all rapidly blinking through every color on the spectrum, and the Egg itself glowed a clear, piercing bright blue.

“Well, well, weeeelll, Mister Potter,” Corbin had practically purred. “Aren’t you just… special?”

So now Harry was beating a hasty path to the Headmaster’s office where Dumbledore, who had given Corbin a look so ugly it had made Harry nauseous, had insisted they take the discussion.

And, of course, as always, they’d all decided to leave him out of the loop.

Not that he doubted Snape would tell him everything the minute they were back in their quarters, or anything. The thing that irked him, was more the fact that they were, once again, making a decision about him, without him. A niggling something crawled to life in the center of his chest as he thought about Snape, sitting in the circular office drinking tea and chomping on lemon drops while deciding the fate of his education. Something hard, slippery and ugly sprung to life in his chest and Harry tried hard not to think about it. He understood that Severus was his guardian now and was supposed to be making the decisions, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Especially when whether or not he was to be expelled was the hot topic.

He turned the corner at full speed and ran smack into someone, landing on his bum, and had to fight down the feeling of déjà vu.

Professor Snape towered over him, arms crossed and glowering. “Running in the halls is against school rules, you realize,” he said softly.

Harry reddened, and picked himself up. “Yes sir, but I wanted to be there for the decision.”

“Ah,” Severus said, letting his arms fall to the side, somehow making him seem more imposing. “Then it is very unfortunate that a decision has already been made,” the man continued, sneering.

“What?” Harry wanted to know. He looked at the taller man in disbelief, and a bit of betrayal.

Severus stepped closer, placing steadying hands on the boy’s shoulders. “The decision had already been made by the time I had reached the Headmaster’s office.  Apparently, Professor Dumbledore had informed Corbin of his intention to instruct you en route. I – “

“The Headmaster’s going to be teaching me?” Harry cried, paling.

“Ostensibly, yes. He will be instructing you on controlling your magic, and even some advanced techniques for spell casting if you wish.” Long fingered hands squeezed his shoulders, and Harry made himself take a steadying breath. “However, your Head of House and I both leaned on him, and you shall continue to take your regular classes with your year mates.”

That was good. That was very good. Harry shivered. Right now he wanted nothing more than to press his forehead into his man’s shoulder, and forget about anything that wasn’t related to breathing, but he made himself stand straight. He was worried about spending so much time with the headmaster, yes, but that was no reason to fall apart. He was a teenager, all of fifteen, and he had faced much worse in his short time on earth.

He settled for tentatively brushing across the link they shared, and nearly melted in relief when he received a gentle stroke in return. He could do this.

He could.

~^-^~

Severus had just settled into his desk with the latest potions journal when the Floo chime sounded. Severus growled, and made his way to the living room, wondering who would be foolish enough to call on him. 'I thought I had a terrible reputation,' he thought idly.

 "Hello? Hellooooooo?" A far too cheery voice was propelling itself into his rooms, and Severus was not pleased.

"Is there a problem, Madame?" he asked in his snarkiest tones.

Large blue eyes blinked blindly before answering. "Hello, sir! I am looking for Mr. Severus Snape. Is he there?"

With a flick of his wrist, his wand was securely in his hand. "And who might you be?" he asked his voice edged with danger.

A blinding white smile greeted him. "I'm Madame Perky Merryweather! From Wizarding Family Services, you understand. Shall I call at another time?"

"There is no need," Severus replied, wondering how much he was willing to bet Neil had assigned this particular woman to Harry's case simply to annoy him. With a murmured word, Madame Merryweather was able to Floo through. Severus was not amused when she tumbled through the Floo to land sitting on her rump, nor was he amused when, having realized her position, the cotton haired woman threw her head back and laughed heartily at herself.

"Oh, I can never do that right." she chuckled, getting to her feet after politely declining Snape's offer of help. She was quite nimble for an old bag, he mused silently. "After ninety-five years of doing this, you'd think I'd get the hang of it!" She straightened with a mighty clap of her hands. "Mr. Severus Snape, I presume?"

Severus inclined his head just so, wand still held at the ready. "Might I ask why I was given no notice of this meeting, Madame Merryweather?"

“You weren’t?” the woman cried, scandalized. “Oh, that naughty little boy, Cornelius! Just you wait till I get my hands on him,” she muttered darkly, hands on her hips and her bright eyes promising retribution. Severus found himself amused, despite himself.  “Mr. Snape, I am terribly sorry. I was assured by the Minister that he would make certain that you had received my notice, as he had business here at the castle with you himself. Do accept my sincerest apologies. Shall I call at another time?”

Hadn’t she already asked this? Severus found himself not caring, too much. “There is no need to reschedule, Madame Merryweather. May I offer you a cup of tea?”

“Oh yes, yes, please.” The little woman bounced a bit on her feet, and Severus turned away quickly lest he say something rude.

Having a house-elf really was convenient, Severus thought to himself as Winky popped back in with a tea service.  He gazed thoughtfully at the social worker from over his teacup, and merely raised an eyebrow as she looked up from her tea and beamed.

“Now, since I’m sure you’ve got a terrible amount of work to do, I shall do my endeavor best to make this as quick as possible.” She shuffled through a stack of paper she’d pulled from her pocket and enlarged, all the while making ‘hmmm’ and ‘mmmhhmmm’ noises.

“Well I see everything is in order with the paperwork. May I ask you a few questions?”

Severus nodded readily, placing his teacup in the table next to him.

“Very well then. Now, considering the evidence of inappropriate care the child has experienced, how do you plan on handling punishments? Abused children tend to test boundaries rather harshly, you understand.”

“I do, and I do not believe that it will pose a problem. Harry and I have already established a rapport that transcends such issues.”

Madame Merryweather gazed steadily at the potions Professor over her tiny little glasses. “Do you truly expect me to believe that, with the history between you two?”

Severus gazed steadily back. “Yes.”

Madame Merryweather ‘hmmmm’ed, and made a brisk, slashing movement on her notes. The tiniest thread of unease wove itself into a knot in his stomach, but Severus squashed it before it could take root.

He fielded questions for what seemed like forever, until finally Madame Merryweather seemed done.

“May I have a tour of your home, Master Snape?”

“Certainly, Madame Merryweather,” he intoned. He wasn’t sure how to respond to her change in his address. No one outside of the Potions Master’s Guild addressed him as Master Snape. Was that a good sign? Did that mean that she was pleased with what he’d answered?

 He led her through his rooms in a bit of a daze, unconsciously answering questions and opening doors like some kind of gentlemen (Two snickered), before he heard the front to slam and a loud ‘THWUMP’, and rushed to see what was the matter.

Harry beat him to it.

“SEV! HERMIONE APOLOGIZED! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?” the boy shouted at the top of his lungs. Severus raised his eyes to heaven, not stopping his stride. Behind him Madame Merryweather chuckled, and furiously scribbled on her notes.

Severus turned the corner to get an armful of small teenage boy. He looked askance at the blushing child, who murmured an apology, but made no move to get farther away from him.

“What have I told you about shouting in these rooms, Harry?” Severus asked, using his not-so-dangerous voice.

‘Um…not to?” Harry asked, looking at his shoes.

“Mmmm.” Severus stepped to the side, and introduced their guest. “Harry, Madame Merryweather. Madame Merryweather, this is Harry.” He looked to the slightly non-plussed boy and explained.  “Madame Merryweather has come to evaluate us as per adoption procedures.”

He hid a smirk as Harry turned a bright red and began stuttering apologies. Yes, that would teach him to yell around with no thought to other people’s eardrums.