Harry huffed angrily, and threw himself into an alcove. Who the heck did she think she was? Were the hell did she get off accusing people of such things? He growled, and closed his eyes. He had been in such a good mood earlier. Some best friend she was.

Harry sighed. At least Ron hadn’t gone off the deep end. Actually, Ron hadn’t really been angry at all. That was odd. The redhead’s dislike of the Potions Master went even deeper than his own, he thought. Or, at least, what he though was dislike. He couldn’t say he hated the man now, at any rate.

He groaned, and rubbed his eyes behind his new glasses. Did Ron instantly decide to shelve his old feelings for Snape just because of Harry? It seemed so, but that was so very unlike Ron that it was highly unlikely. Harry scoffed. Who was he kidding? The entire experience was so unlike Ron that he’d have to now figure out what was like this new Ron.

Harry growled again. He didn’t want to think about this. He wanted to find Snape, so the man could call him ‘brat’ or ‘idiot boy’ again; he wanted his good mood back. He wanted to forget Hermione and her stupid, stupid assumptions until tomorrow, or even better, Monday. He smiled. He’d be able to take on the world after a whole weekend with Snape. There had to be some benefits to having a sarcastic genius for your guardian, right?

The teen stood, and was instantly presented with a problem. How was e going to get down to Snape’s quarters? The man hadn’t a chance to show him before they had been ambushed by his teenage counterparts. Harry bit his lip. What could e do? Ask a Slytherin? Ha! He’d likely end up down in some damp, creepy dead end, dueling the entire house. He couldn’t just call on the man and expect him to appear (No matter how many times just thinking about him when breaking a school rule has the desired effect). He wasn’t some house-elf …..

The Gryffindor barely resisted slapping himself in the forehead. Of course! He’d just ask a house-elf to show him the way. But which one?

Dobby? No. The exuberant little elf would be falling all over himself in his haste to help ‘Harry Potter, sir!’ He liked the little guy and everything, but if he had to deal with him today, especially after he heard Harry’s destination….. Harry was afraid he just might strangle the elf.

Harry grimaced. The only other house-elf he knew by name was Winky, and the last time he ad seen her she had been a weeping mess. Of course, that had been near the middle of last term, and she also had the entire summer to collect herself….

Deciding that there was nothing for it, Harry called “Winky”, and nearly jumped out of his skin when she appeared with a loud crack.

‘Well’ he decided, after he had gotten over the shock, ‘it could have been worse.’ Winky stood before him, wrapped in a neon green the cozy spotted with bright pink stars, a bottle of butterbeer clutched tightly to her chest. It wasn’t open though, and she didn’t look anywhere near as bad as she had when he saw her last, so Harry supposed it would just have to do.

“Harry Potter called?”

She even sounded sober. That had to be a good thing.

“Yes, Winky. Could you show me the way to Professor Snape’s quarters, please?”

Winky narrowed her wide eyes and frowned. “Winky is being instructed, only children of professors and wards of professors is to be knowing where professors quarters is being.” Her eyes narrowed further as she looked him over. “Is you being Professor Snap sir’s son?”

Harry decided that further investigation of the odd thumping in his chest that statement elicited was a very bad idea at the moment. “He’s my new guardian,” he managed to whisper through his suddenly tight throat. What was wrong with him?

Winky positively beamed.

“Harry Potter is having a new guardian. Oh, very good! Winky is being very happy for Harry Potter!” She reached forward and touched his knee, and a flash of yellow nearly blinded him.

“Harry Potter will follow Winky then. Winky is checking to see if Harry Potter is telling the truth, and since Harry Potter is, Winky is taking him to his guardian, she is.”

With that the little brightly colored elf turned and trotted down into the dungeons. Harry listened as she chattered on and on about how much fun Harry was going to have and about the parties his friends were going to throw for him in celebration of his new status. Harry couldn’t help but snort. He couldn’t see any of his friends throwing him a party for this. If he hexed the man, maybe, but for becoming the Greasy Git’s ward, not a chance.

Unbidden, a smile graced his lips. He’d finally gotten a family. Not a normal one in any respect, nor had he acquired it by conventional means, but it was his, and that’s all that mattered.

Something suddenly brought him up short. Winky was crying. The realization sent him to his knees in front of the crumpled heap of elf on the cool dungeon floor. “Winky?”

He crouched next to her sobbing form. “Winky, what’s the matter?”

She scooted away from him, clutching her butterbeer even closer. “Harry P-Potter,” sob, “is having,” hitch, “a family-y-y!”

The teen knelt for a moment, puzzled, before the house-elf’s words began to make sense to him.

“Oh, Winky. You can’t still want a family, can you?”

He was met with a vey angry elf glare. “Of course Winky is still wanting a family, Harry Potter.” Giving him one more glare, Winky sniffed, and descended into piteous mewling once more.

Severus would kill him. That alone should be a strong enough deterrent. Severus would absolutely kill him if he did this. Ron would never believe him, and when he did, he’d think Harry was off his rocker. Was he even allowed to bind a school house elf? He didn’t think so, but school rules had never stood in is way for long before. Besides, Winky wanted this. No, Winky needed this. That was all that mattered, right? Hermione, if he ever spoke to her again, would never speak to him again. Strangely, it didn’t seem to mater as much as he thought it would.

~*~

Fifteen minutes later, found Harry walking contentedly behind a skipping, singing, over the moon happy house elf, bound to him and his new guardian, and to keep their secrets, once more heading for Snape’s rooms.

~*~

Severus sighed, messaging his temples. He’d only just sent off a sickeningly polite missive to the Weasley household, and was steadfastly anticipating a howler in reply. Why he had listened to the shreds of his conscious (against his better judgment) and written to explain to the Weasley adults the new status of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Change-Things he was sure he would never know. Tiredly, Severus settled in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace. He would sit here and waste away till it was time to fetch the boy. Sit here and waste away and prepare himself for the inevitable tongue-lashing from Molly. And that was before the redheaded matriarch made her way up to the castle to defend the honorary Weasley’s honor and dispatch with the villain known as Severus Snape.

‘A bit pessimistic, aren’t we, Sevy?’

The Potions Master groaned, and summoned a glass of scotch. If he just ignored it, the voice would go away. It was in all his psychology books. All the mind healers he’d seen had told him it was all in his head, and he just had to ignore it. Just ignore it, Severus, ignore it. Think of Quidditch, or poisons, ignore it….

‘You’ve been trying that for years Sev. It never works. I would suggest you try another method, but I think I should be insulted that you never want to see me.

He was getting old. That was the problem. He was simply getting along in age. That was the only explanation he could give for these voices that never left him alone, and for the day’s activities. Why else would he take the infernal child shopping, in daylight, no less, and then tote all the boy’s new belongings back up to the castle like a common pack mule? Then, not only had he allowed the boy to run off with his little friends, leaving him to carry the many packages to his room, he had taken the liberty of unpacking and arranging said purchases in the suddenly there third bedroom in his quarters.

‘Oh, quit pretending you don’t like the boy, Severus. A blind hag can see you do. Did you or did you not just file a petition for adoption? Honestly, the way you carry on, we’re going to have to get you into therapy!’

He needed another drink. Or maybe he was already drunk. What other excuse could he have for hearing a voice he should not be hearing, or willingly having two teenage boys in his rooms? Two extremely volatile teenage boys. Two extremely volatile teenage boys who hated each other.

Severus made a sound that may or may not have been a high pitched whimper, and slid further down in his chair. Dealing with an entire term’s worth of Longbottom’s botched potions seemed more favorable than dealing with Harry and Draco about this. Even if the boy brewed something acidic, something that ate through his robes…… destroyed his favorite cauldron…..brought down the entire west wing of the castle ………

He was pulled from his b=mad musings by a sharp knock on his door. He scowled at the offending slab of wood as he rose from his chair. “Surely Albus hasn’t found out already”, he grumbled to himself. His eyebrows rose quickly, however, and then fell into a deeper scowl as he read the name on the visitor scroll beside the door.

Draco Malfoy, it read, in loopy, curly script. Severus ruthlessly refused to stomp his foot. He had been hoping on at least another few hours before his godson dropped by. He had wanted a chance to talk to Harry at least once more before he broke the news to the blonde snake. Honestly! What was he thinking? Hadn’t he also been planning to ignore the Golden Boy entirely this year? He should know by now that his plans were never, ever going to work out, at least not where these boys were concerned.

Really, Severus. Haven’t you learned anything all these years?

The child knocked again. His scowl deepened. He was not dealing with this voice and two deeply hormonal boys at the same time. He summoned his strongest Occlumency shields and shoved the voice, his plush chair, pipe and heavily scented smoke, deep into the recesses of his mind. After a quick second, he was satisfied. Let’s see the nuisance make his way out of there.

He turned his attention back to the Draco dilemma. Severus paced. There was nothing for it, really. He couldn’t ignore the boy and leave them to meet in the halls, even if his new ward had promised to behave. He knew very well that Draco had been the instigator in all the boys’ previous encounters.

And now, with Harry’s newfound talents, it was simply beyond foolish to leave them to themselves. Sighing heavily, Severus opened the door, and waited for the show to begin.

The very first ting he noticed, before his wand went flying from his hand, was that his godson looked like ell. The second thing, which really should have been the first, all things considered, was that the boy’s wand was pointed directly at his heart. This, despite the fact that the child looked like death warmed over and sprayed with cheese, and that his wand arm hung limp at his side, gave the supposed Death Eater pause. While Draco was barely into his fifth year of schooling, Severus knew for a fact that he knew and could successfully cast as many spells and curses as the most skilled followers of the Dark Lord (the boy had been raised by the sycophant’s right hand man, after all).That said arm was out of commission was of no consequence. Draco Malfoy was one of the handful of wizards the world over who could cast with equal accuracy and power with either hand. One could understand why the evil overlord was so eager to brand the boy to his service.

“Hello godfather,” Draco said in a voice tat shook as much as his hand. “May I come in? I have some things I think we need to discuss.”

Severus studied the boy before him, silently debating whether or not stunning the teen and dumping an entire vial of Veritaserum down his throat was a vary good idea. The boy hadn’t a clue he was capable of wandless magic, and he wouldn’t not until Severus chose to disclose this information. He decided that he would wait, for just a little while, and determine whether or not the topic of Draco’s discussion warranted immediate action.

He gestured the boy inside, and fought a growl when he saw the idiot boy was limping. How was it that both his boys needed his medical expertise in as many days? Just what had had happened? He was, however, grudgingly pleased as the boy kept his aim true, even as if practically fell into a chair.

“Tea?” Severus asked? He could at least feed the boy.

But the blonde child shook his head. “And have you drug me with something? No thank you.”

“That scenario is highly unlikely, Dragon, as I have personally trained you to identify most poisons by smell alone.” He raised an eyebrow. “And even should this skill fail, you are required to keep on your person a vial of general antidote, are you not?”

The boy gulped. Severus was pleased. Apparently he could still be intimidating, even when on the business end of a wand. He relaxed visibly, and was pleased to see Draco do the same.

“May I sit?” he asked politely. As if asking to sit in his own rooms didn’t bother him in the least. When he was finished with Lucius Malfoy’s son ……

His godson looked distinctly uncomfortable. Good. “You may.”

Draco watched as his godfather made a show of settling into the nearest armchair. He had already called himself every foul name he could think of for initiating this plot. How could he have ever thought he could intimidate this man? And then he goes and calls him ‘Dragon’. It’s the height of manipulation! Here he was, threatening the man who had sat up with him for three nights when he had inflamed dragonpox when he was three. How the heck did he get here?

Temporary insanity. It was the only plausible explanation. He had gone absolutely stark raving mad for the entire minute it had taken to think up this plan. Now, he couldn’t explain what exactly had made him carry out said plan, but that was ok. He already knew the outcome. Snape would help them.

Well, really, not him, surely. After pulling this stunt, Snape was going to kill him. Whether it was today or tomorrow, or even in the New Year, he didn’t know, but he knew that he was going to die, and it would be at this man’s hand. But that was ok. Because no matter what the state of his mortality, Snape would help his snakes.

But didn’t that mean that he didn’t have to go through all of this? Sure Snape was a Death Eater, but he was also their head snake. He did things like send birthday cards to his students and sat up with them when they were sick. There was hardly ever a Slytherin in the hospital wing. Snape looked under first year beds for monsters and handed out nasty detentions to anyone who dared tease them. He made up homework groups for struggling students and sent anonymous care packages to his less than affluent snakes. This was SNAPE for Merlin’s sake.

But Snape was also a Death Eater. Loyalty to the Dark Lord came first. The slightest whisper that snakes were defecting from their calling of life, and the lot of them would be dead. Of course, if they went along with the crazy bastard they’d be dead anyway, but Draco tried not to think about that. The only way to ensure their safety was to make sure this man knew his was in jeopardy.

“I came across some very interesting information today, Severus,” Draco drawled, confidence returning. “Very, very interesting information.” He fought not to frown; the man made no show of having heard him. “It’s about you, you know,” he tried for casual. “This very, very interesting information.” Finally, something behind those onyx orbs. “The Dark Lord will be very pleased to learn what I did today, Severus.” Damn. Those eyes were blank again. He would not pout. “Won’t you guess what it is?”

“I won’t waste the time nor the energy, Draco, when I know you are going to tell me,” Severus replied easily.

Draco didn’t try to hide his disappointment. His godfather was just determined to be difficult.

“But I won’t, Uncle. If I do, you’ll know exactly what to look for when you obliviate me, so I think I’ll keep that little tidbit to myself, thanks.” He paused. “But I wasn’t joking when I said the Dark Lord would be very interested in knowing what I found out.”

Those dark eyes bore into his. “Indeed,” was all he got.

“Damnit, Severus” Draco shouted. He couldn’t lose. He couldn’t

“Language, Draco,” came the sharp reply.

The blonde teen pouted. “Sorry,” he whined, “but this is really, really important. Why won’t you make this easy?”

He was graced with a blank stare.

Draco moaned, and painfully picked himself up from the chair. “Fine.” He hobbled over and handed over the other man’s wand. “Just don’t kill me yet, ok? Just hear me out. You can chop me up for potions ingredients or feed me to your army of vampire butterflies later, but just let me tell you alright?”

Severus absently motioned the boy back into his chair. He was halfway through summoning a pain potion and bruise balm, but his mind was stuck on something the boy had said.

“Vampire butterflies?”

The child nodded fervently, his eyes wide and innocent. “They’re big and pink with red eyes and huge razor sharp fangs that hang all the way out of their mouths. It figures you’d have an army of them because they love black and greasy hair, and I just know you’ve got a secret fascination with butterflies.”

Severus looked suitably appalled. “I do not have a hidden fascination with butterflies,” he snapped. “Nor do I have an army of vampire butterflies at my disposal.”

Draco’s eyes were suddenly filled with tears. “You let them go?” he asked softly.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I never had any.”

Draco dissolved into a sobbing mess. “No! How could you! How could you deny their lo-o-o-ve?”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. How had this child managed to descend into hysteria mere minutes after threatening him? “Dragon,” he began, gently, “vampire butterflies do not exist.”

“NO!” the boy shrieked. He threw himself clear across the room, landing in a sobbing heap by the door. “I do believe in fairies! I do I DO!”

He stared at the child with wide eyes. How had they gotten to fairies? Of course the child believed in fairies! They existed!

The boy was going to hyperventilate if he didn’t calm down. How many calming draughts did he have in stock. He would need at least three to get this boy down to even a semblance of calm. How the blasted child had worked up a tolerance for this particular potion was a mystery, and not one he could ponder right now.

“Draco – “

“No! NO!” The boy was truly working himself up into a lather. “You have to believe, Uncle Sev, you have to,” he pleaded earnestly. “If you don’t then the vampire butterflies and the fairies won’t be able to have their little vampire fairy children, and then there’ll be no one to beat up Harry’s giant uncle, and then he’s going to squish us, and then Snake Face is going to throw a party and sing ‘Do you believe in magic – “

‘Calming draught, NOW, before I lose my wits.’

“ – heart? How the music can free her, whenever it starts? And it’s m-mmmph – “

It was the quickest application of calming draught that Severus Snape had ever seen in his capacity as Potions Master. In three smooth movements, he had three vials of the admittedly vile tasting mixture poured down the child’s throat before the teen could even blink in surprise, and another held in hand, just in case.

But before the potion even had time to work, the door opened, and Harry walked in.

Severus opened his mouth to tell the idiot child to shut the door, (he was not chasing an injured, hysterical Malfoy all over Hogwarts castle but never got a chance to say anything. The air was filled with a shout of “Harry!” a split second before said teenage suddenly had an armful of limp, sobbing Draco.