Harry had to move. His legs were beginning to cramp up and if he didn’t stretch them, he’d never be able to walk again. His back was also seizing up and if he didn’t at least turn onto it, he would look like a question mark in the morning. So, inch by careful inch, Harry began to straighten his legs, wincing with the pain and trying desperately not to disturb the covers.

Harry estimated that he had been lying in this position for at last four hours…four long, tense and sleepless hours. He winced again as the change in leg position made his lower back twinge even more. He pulled in his stomach and tried to arch his spine. It wasn’t enough and finally, with an involuntary groan, Harry succumbed to the need and with excruciating slowness, he began to roll onto his back.

“Potter, what in the hell are you doing?” The voice, husky with sleep and laced with irritation issued from the dark, directly to Harry’s left. The large mattress dipped slightly and with the need for caution past, Harry straightened his body out and turned onto his back with a breathy groan. The exquisite relief was muted by humiliation and irritation.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his face burning in the dark. Harry was surprised that the flush didn’t light up the room. God, it was bad enough that he had been in the company of Severus Snape for what felt like a year without letup, but to actually be in the same bed as the man was cruel and unusual punishment. This trip to the Burrow would have to go down as one of the most uncomfortable journeys ever undertaken by anyone in the history of man, and the memories would have to remain locked away in his head where they would fester and eventually turn his brain to mush, because he wouldn’t be able to share the details with anyone. They were too mortifying.

“There is at least three feet of space available to you, idiot child,” said Snape impatiently. “Stop trying to balance on a knife’s edge and use some of it. Contrary to what you may think, I do not have some horrifying communicable disease.”

Harry lay there, feeling like a prize idiot. The man had a disconcerting habit of making everything Harry did seem ridiculous. But his words hadn’t take into account the fact that everyone of Harry’s instincts where Snape was concerned over the last five years, dictated that he stay as far away from him as he could get. But to actually be in the same bed as him…God, it made his head hurt just thinking about it.

The mattress dipped again and Harry tensed as Snape moved. But he relaxed almost at once when he realised that Snape was only getting out of the bed. He watched in the very dim light shining through the slight gap where the blackout curtains had not overlapped properly, as the man walked into the bathroom. The light flicked on and the door was pushed shut.

Harry sighed and turned his head to look at the indent in the pillow next to his own, then he turned back and stared, unblinking at the ceiling. With his new, perfect eyesight and the combined light from under the bathroom door and the gap in the curtains, he could make out the old fashioned circular plaster moulding around the light fixture.

He lay there, aching with tiredness, until his eyes started to water and he had to blink. The toilet flushed and then a tap was turned on. He turned his head and looked towards the bathroom again. When the door opened, Harry quickly transferred his gaze back to the ceiling. But not before he saw Snape in his long grey pyjama pants and a white crew-necked tee-shirt. Paul Vale was chunkier and a little shorter than Severus Snape, but that fact did not make Harry any happier about sharing a bed with the man.

It had been while he was watching a sitcom on TV that the discrepancy between the number of people in the hotel suite and the available beds had struck Harry. The program had shown three grown men trying to sleep together in a double bed when they had been forced to live in a one room bungalow for a weekend.

The circumstances here were slightly different, of course. There were three of them here, and one, admittedly large bed, but Harry knew they would not be trying to squeeze into the bed together. He had looked across at Erin, who was sitting at the table reading his copy of ‘Hogwarts: a History’, with a passion for the printed word that Harry had only ever seen Hermione display, and Snape was sitting across from her, trawling through the Muggle newspapers.

They had looked pretty cosy sitting there together and Harry had looked back at the television with a disgruntled frown marring his forehead. He supposed Snape and Erin would occupy the bed and he would take up residence on the sofa.

Harry was not one hundred percent sure just how far Snape and Erin had progressed in the bedroom stakes, but he did know that he wasn’t thrilled about them going at it only a few feet away from where he would be sleeping…or trying to sleep.

But he would have been quite happy for Snape and Erin to share the bed when the alternative was finally decided upon half an hour later. After Erin had taken a shower and donned a pair of lurid green pyjamas covered in multi-coloured parrots, she had entered the lounge room with an armful of bedding. Both wizards looked at her in surprise. Snape had finished with the newspapers and had folded them together. He had turned his chair around so that he could see the television, but he had really only been staring at it and not taking anything in. Harry had noticed him absently rubbing his left forearm.

“I think we’d better get some sleep, guys,” said Erin. She had looked at Snape. “I’m sure you’ll want to take off as early as possible.”

Snape had risen to his feet and indicated the blankets. “So, what are you doing?”

“You said there was a fold down bed. I’m sleeping in it.”

“No,” said Severus firmly. “You’ll sleep in the proper bed.”

Erin had dropped the blankets on the carpet next to the sofa. “Don’t be so ridiculous. I am not sleeping in a queen-sized bed while the two of you make do out here. You and Harry can sleep together in the bed.”

There had been a horrified silence for about five seconds while Harry and Severus had stared at Erin and then at each other. In their desire not to sleep in the same bed, they were united. Severus had argued vociferously that they could not possibly expect Erin to sleep on the sofa, and Harry had insisted that he didn’t mind sleeping in a chair and Professor Snape could have the sofa.

But Erin had ruled the day, or night, as it had been at that time. Looking at them both as if they were lunatics, she had begun to remove the cushions from the sofa in preparation to pulling out the bed. Severus had gone to help, still arguing the point. Harry was paralysed with horror. No way! No way in hell…

But apparently there had been a way because here he was, sleepless and uncomfortable and with Snape climbing back into the bed beside him. Harry stiffened up again; he even stopped breathing.

“For God’s sake, Potter if you do not relax and go to sleep, I will dose you with the Draught of Living Death and leave you that way until we reach Devon. This is not my idea of a fun night either, but I refuse to lie here contemplating my navel for the rest of the night just because I am sharing sleeping space with you.

“Now act like a mature teenager—and that is an oxymoron if ever there was one—and bloody well go to sleep. I assure you, I have absolutely no interest in your immature twelve year old—nor indeed, your slightly more mature sixteen year old—male body.” Harry just knew he was going to spontaneously combust. Or scream. Or both.

“I didn’t think that!” squeaked Harry, though he was not entirely sure that this thought had not passed fleetingly through his mind, if only because he couldn’t think of enough negative things about the man to satisfy his ire. Now that Snape had vocalised it though, he felt like a total and utter moron.

Snape just grunted and turned over on his side—facing away from Harry—and settled himself with an ease that Harry wished he could emulate.

8888

Severus lay as relaxed as he could manage, fully conscious of the boy lying as stiff as a board on the other side of the bed. He made his breathing deepen and relaxed even more, and finally, by minute degrees, he felt Potter succumb to his fatigue. After twenty minutes, he knew the boy was asleep.

Now Severus turned onto his back and stared up at the same plaster moulding that Harry had found so interesting earlier. But his thoughts were firmly fixed on the beautiful female in the other room, not the boy next to him. He had deliberately not thought about the sleeping arrangements when they had first entered the suite; he had stalked around being paranoid about the security until Erin had been the grown up and had breached the ill-feelings that had developed between them…compliments of Potter, of course. But, perhaps uncharacteristically, Severus was not inclined to blame the boy for something that he had had no control over.

Then the newspapers had arrived and for a while, when he had been horrified by the headlines and worried about why he had not been summoned, even thoughts of Erin had been relegated to the back burners.

Erin had ordered dinner because Severus had remained caught up in the papers, studying them minutely for some hint of any other incidents that may have been attributable to the Dark Lord. Then, before he knew it, Erin had reappeared after a shower in her all-encompassing parrot pyjamas and with an arm full of blankets and pillows.

The sleeping arrangements had suddenly loomed back into view as Erin had taken charge and directed the proceedings with no reference to him at all. Not that he had expected, even in the fleeting instant when he had earlier stalked into the bedroom and the queen-size bed had impinged on his consciousness, that he and Erin would end up in that bed together…not with Potter in such close proximity.

And with all of the problems with Potter that day, romance had not really been Severus’s main priority. He looked forward to the day when he could dump the boy with the Weasleys and he and Erin could be alone together for the first time since they had confessed their mutual attraction for each other. For the moment though, it seemed they were a threesome, a situation that he found tedious in the extreme but which Erin seemed to be taking in her stride because of her fondness for the boy.

This was something that Severus knew he would have to come to terms with if he wanted a long term relationship with Erin Hanson, because he knew that no matter how much she cared for him, she would never consider refusing to have anything more to do with Potter just because he asked her to do so. Erin was definitely not the sort of woman who would be dictated to by a man, no matter how much she cared for that man.

So, he knew he was the one who was going to have to adapt to circumstances. And though Severus’ feelings concerning Potter were in a state of flux at the present time, he knew he had a long way to go before he could look upon James Potter’s son as anything but a reflection of his father.

Severus blinked in the dark. But did that still hold true? Severus was just so used to thinking in the negative when it came to Harry Potter, it was not instinctual for him to take recent discoveries into account.

Harry was most definitely not his father. But who knew how James Potter would have turned out if he had not had parents who thought the sun rose and set in him; if, in fact he had not had that preconceived notion of his own superiority.

Severus now knew, despite his own pronouncements to the contrary for the last five years, that Harry was not a spoilt, conceited brat. Nor was he a bully. He stuck up for himself, certainly, but Draco Malfoy—who was to Potter, what James had been to him—was always the instigator of any confrontations between the two of them. One thing he had always known about Harry though, was that he had a dangerous overabundance of courage.

Potter’s life had been so far removed from James’ or even Lily’s, it was a miracle in itself that he had grown up without some serious psychological damage. And then to learn that his future was going to be even more horrific, if what Dumbledore believed came to pass, then could he, Severus try to deny the comfort that Harry seemed to receive from his association with Erin?

Severus turned his head to look at the dark outline of the sleeping boy next to him. For once, Potter wasn’t curled into a tight ball; he had fallen asleep flat on his back with his face turned slightly toward Severus. And even though he was looking at the young face of the Muggle boy, in his mind, Severus was seeing the vulnerable lines of Potter’s face. Sometimes the boy looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders…as indeed he did, if the rumours concerning the full content of the prophecy proved to be true. Severus was sure they were. And he had been, for a long time now, thankful that he had not heard every word of the prophecy on that fateful night when he had still been willingly in the employ of the Dark Lord.

Severus sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. To date, he had been unable to look at Potter and see his mother, even though the boy’s green eyes were exactly Lily’s; he had always tried to avoid looking directly into them. But now that he had a woman in his life who was so very attached to Potter (what was it with women that he loved being attached to Potters?), he wondered whether he would be able to leave his prejudices behind and forget his and Harry’s own volatile history and share an interest in the boy’s welfare beyond his promise to Dumbledore to help keep Lily’s boy safe.

Severus sighed again and shut his eyes. As sleep crept over him at last, the thought popped into his head that over the last several days, he had been concerned for Harry’s welfare because he disliked seeing him suffer as much as he did, and not just because Dumbledore had asked him to protect the boy. He had not bowed easily to the instinct, but he had bowed none-the-less.

8888

When Severus had awoken, Harry was still fast asleep, once again curled into the absurdly tight ball that he favoured and Severus had left him there while he showered and dressed.

Harry was sitting up, scratching his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Severus re-entered the bedroom. Severus stowed his night clothes and toiletries in the magically enlarged interior of the hold-all, telling Harry to shower quickly as he wanted to leave as soon as possible. He kept his voice as matter of fact as he could, not wanting a resurgence of last night’s embarrassment and Harry had hurried into the bathroom without a word.

When Severus entered the sitting room, Erin was pulling the blanket from the fold down bed. She looked up and smiled at Severus and his breath had caught at the sight of her currently dark, sleep-tousled hair, and the overlarge pyjamas that hid her slender form. Severus had transfigured Erin’s hair to make it darker and shorter, and he had changed the colour of her eyes, but he knew it was the woman whom he had fallen so hard for in front of him; so he saw the real Erin. He didn’t think he had ever seen anything as alluring in the whole of his life, and his body reacted all too predictably.

Erin thrust a corner of the blanket into his hands. “Good, you can make yourself useful and help me fold this,” she said with a grin.

Severus obliged, but as soon as they had bought the two edges of the blanket together, Severus gathered it to him, one hand walking over the other along the edge until he reached a giggling Erin and drew her into his arms.

“I’d much rather be doing this,” he said huskily, and lowered his head to claim her lips in a very needy, long overdue kiss.

“Hmm, what a splendid idea,” Erin whispered into his mouth, as she stood on the soft mound of blanket, wrapping her arms around Severus’s neck and demonstrating very thoroughly that she needed the kiss just as much as he did. She too did not mind that it was Paul Vale that she was kissing, because she knew everything that was important to her, was Severus.

“Where’s Harry?” Erin had the presence of mind to ask, breathless and in much need of precious oxygen.

“Shower,” answered Severus succinctly, and refortified, he claimed her lips again, probing the loosely closed seam with his tongue, demanding and gaining entrance.

They hungrily explored each other’s mouths, making themselves desperate for more, and after finally coming up for air again, Severus began exploring the delicate contours of her face; he kissed the corners of her mouth, her chin, along her jaw-line and then her neck. Erin let her head fall back on her neck to make access easier for those marauding lips and Severus took full advantage, covering every inch of skin down to the collar of her pyjama top. He nuzzled this aside to get to the inviting hollow at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Erin made a whimpering noise, almost a purr and held onto Severus for dear life.

Then he returned to her face, unwilling to ignore it for too long. He nibbled the lobe of first one ear, then the other before crossing the bony prominence of her cheek, bestowing tiny kisses. Erin’s eyes fluttered closed as Severus’s breath teased her long eyelashes and he took the opportunity to confer the same blessing on her closed eyelids.

More noises of pleasure issued from Erin’s throat and when Severus felt her knees grow weak, much as his were doing, he gathered her to him and lowered then both onto the sofa bed. Severus leant over her to continue administering kisses to her face and little love bites to her neck. When her pyjama top impeded further downward progress, Severus removed his hand from where it was now entangled in her hair and caressed her face and then her neck, finally running his fingers along the soft skin of her shoulder, pushing her top to the side as far as it would go.

It was not far enough. With a groan of longing that was also a petition for consent, Severus looked into Erin’s now brown eyes. Her acquiescence could not have been more obvious; she took his hand and guided it to the lime green button at the base of her throat. He needed no further invitation; he flicked that button open, and then the next.

Slowly, as if he was unwrapping a much anticipated present, Severus pushed the fabric aside to expose one small, but perfect breast. He had gazed at his prize for several heartbeats before rubbing the flushed peak with his thumb; he watched as it tautened and blossomed, like a rosebud slowly opening to the sun. He massaged it again with his thumb, and then he cupped his hand over the pert peak so that the nipple nestled against his palm. Breathless and wanting more, Erin grasped his head in her small hands and pulled him down so that he could take her in his mouth and lave the newly awakened bud with his tongue.

Neither knew how long they indulged themselves; it could have been two minutes, or it could have been ten. All Severus knew was that it was nowhere near long enough to sate his desire.

Erin’s top was fully open, both breasts exposed to her lover’s gaze and touch, and while his mouth pleasured one breast and then the other, Severus’s hand was intent on exploring further. It snaked under the waistband of Erin’s pyjama pants and his palm was flat against her belly, and his fingertips furrowing through the slightly damp curls at the apex of her thighs to reach the final, and as yet, unexplored goal when Severus was brought up short.

The shower that he was not even aware that he had been tuned into, was shut off. Potter would be out of the bathroom in a minute or so. Erin didn’t notice Severus’s sudden stillness; she was too busy with her own explorations, she had pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans and was rubbing her hands over the surprisingly smooth skin of his back and flanks, revelling in the play of muscles under his skin. She didn’t notice the slightly flabbier quality of Paul Vale’s flesh; she knew her man was as lean and hard as a greyhound.

With a groan of pure frustration, Severus lowered his head and bestowed a final kiss on Erin’s breastbone before levering himself to the side. Erin, who had still not realised the shower had stopped, gave a whimper and tried to pull Severus back. Severus grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand out from under his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she whispered desperately, trying to wrest her hand from Severus’s grip so that she could wrap her arm around his neck again.

“Potter,” husked Severus and he forced his muscles to obey his command to sit up. Erin groaned again and put her hand over her eyes.

Severus stood and tried to adjust his tight jeans, with little success. He leaned down and pulled Erin to her feet, unable to resist brushing one nipple with his thumb before drawing the edges of her top together.

“Quickly, he said, and though both of them still had hormones rampaging through their bloodstreams, they were putting on a good pretence of normality when Harry entered the room. Erin was stacking the bedding on an armchair and Severus was on the phone, ordering breakfast.

“Good morning, Harry,” said Erin, a little too brightly.

Severus, finished on the phone, and ignoring both Erin and Harry, he took himself off to the bathroom to put himself to rights. Harry watched him go with a crease between his eyebrows. Erin drew his attention away from his obvious speculation.

“So, did you sleep well?” she asked, fiddling around, straightening the room that didn’t really need straightening.

‘Err, yeah,” said Harry, unwilling to admit that he had lain awake in that big, queen size bed for nearly half the night because Severus Snape had been lying next to him. “I slept OK. Do you want me to put the bed back up?” he asked, leaning down to grasp the base bar.

“No,” said Erin. “They want it left down if it’s been used so that they can change the sheets.” She indicated a laminated list of instructions lying on the coffee table.

When Severus appeared again, his frustration had put him in a decidedly tetchy mood. Harry was his unwitting target. “Potter, you are a total slommick. Do you even realise that you can put the towels back on the rails when they have been used.”

“I hung it up again,” protested Harry, nettled, because he had hung the wet towel up.

“Well, you didn’t hang it with a great deal of proficiency, because it was on the floor.”

Erin rolled her eyes. She knew what was wrong with Severus, but Harry didn’t deserve to take the brunt of his ill-temper. She passed behind Severus as she made her way to the bathroom, giving him a surreptitious poke in the back as she walked past.

Severus took the hint and stalked across to the window where he opened the drape and stared out onto a dismal, misty day. Harry, still smarting, threw himself into a chair and dragged his copy of ‘Hogwarts: a History’—the one that Erin had been reading the night before—towards him. He flipped it open and rather than look at the angry man on the other side of the room, Harry stared at the page and pretended to read.

Harry was no dill. He knew what was going on. Erin had seemed far too casual when he had entered the sitting room and Snape was as far away from her as it was possible to be, the second sofa separating them. They had been trying to look cool, because no doubt they had been at it hammer and tongs two minutes beforehand. He was cramping their style, that was for sure. Harry wondered how long Snape would last before frustration sent him over the edge. He remembered his own frustration after his dealings with Cho. It had been a most uncomfortable experience and they had only ever kissed…once really because he didn’t count the peck she had given him after she had come crawling back when the article had come out in the Quibbler.

Breakfast arrived ten minutes later, and forty-five minutes after that, they were back in the car and heading southwest, out of the charming city of Perth…well, looking out on the mist-wreathed, grey parklands and buildings and the slow moving traffic, Harry thought that on a sunny day and in more stimulating company, Perth would be charming.

Even Erin had sunk into some kind of apathy. Breakfast had been eaten in silence with Snape and Erin avoiding each other’s eye assiduously. Harry sighed. It was going to be a thrilling journey.

And indeed it was just as Harry had envisioned, but at least he slept for a time, waking when Snape pulled into a café cum service station so that they could use the loo and get some drinks and plastic-tasting sandwiches. They ate on the move.

Erin had noticed something strange however and she commented on it as she held Severus’s drink while he pulled back into the traffic. “I’ve just realised, but you haven’t filled the tank once with petrol. I know it’s an economical car, but the fuel gauge hasn’t moved.”

“The headmaster charmed the tank to stay full so that we didn’t have to stop unnecessarily.”

Erin shook her head in amazement, and indeed, Harry was more than a little surprised. The things that Dumbledore could do went way beyond anything that was taught at Hogwarts; the man was definitely an amazingly powerful wizard. If the Muggles ever found out that Albus Dumbledore could produce never-ending petrol, they would pay him a fortune to bewitch their tanks.

Harry sighed and gazed out the window again at the countryside. Why couldn’t it be Dumbledore who finished off Voldemort? It was going to take an extraordinary wizard to do the deed. How ridiculous it was to think that he, mediocre Harry Potter, was going to be able to finish off the most evil wizard the world had ever seen.

He looked at the back of Snape’s head…or Paul Vale’s head, and wondered if the man knew about the prophecy. Harry doubted it. He was sure Snape would just laugh his head off every time he looked at Harry if he knew that he was slated to be the one to finish off Voldemort. He would split his sides.

God, everyone but Dumbledore would split their sides laughing. Harry could just imagine Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins’ glee if they knew. Harry shut his eyes and rubbed his face viciously with both hands. Hadn't he been the butt of enough jokes and rumours and innuendo since he had become part of the wizarding world?

“Are you in pain, Potter?” asked Severus, glancing in the rear view mirror. “Is your scar acting up?” Harry just shook his head and went back to staring out the side window.

“Potter, if you have pain, I need to…”

“I haven’t got pain! Alright!” yelled Harry. “Can’t I just be bored without you jumping all over me?”

Severus opened his mouth to deliver a stinging rebuttal but Erin reached across and squeezed his forearm. He bit the inside of his cheek and Erin turned back to face Harry.

“Harry, we don’t want you to go through what you did yesterday.”

Harry didn’t respond for a few seconds and when he did, all he said was, “I’m not in pain. I’ll let you know if it starts acting up.” He scratched at the place where his scar would have been. It was totally invisible again on the twelve year old face.

Harry hadn’t been totally honest. He wasn’t in pain…well, not what he classified as pain anyway. His scar was prickling, quite persistently actually, but he was so used to that, it was just part of who he was. He could tolerate that better than he could tolerate the dreams and the visions…well, there hadn't been that many of either of those just lately, thank God, not since he had been at the Haven anyway.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. Something bad had been going down yesterday, twice yesterday seemingly, but he had not been able to see what Voldemort and the Death Eaters were up to. He was just experiencing the bugger’s emotions…yesterday, he had been ecstatic. And now that he was a night’s sleep away from the nausea and the pain, Harry began to wonder what had gone down.

And then Harry thought about the significance of Snape trawling through the Muggle newspapers last night. He looked at the back of the man’s head again. “Was there anything in the papers last night that might have been the work of Voldemort?”

Severus took a deep breath. “Do not use the Dark Lord’s name, Potter.” Erin looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Severus ignored her. “I thought I made it plain to you during our—for want of a better word—lessons last term.”

“Right,” said Harry dismissively. “I’ll call him Tom then, shall I?”

Severus frowned and looked in the mirror at a very pugnacious looking Aidan. “Are you just being smart, Potter?”

“According to you, sir, I couldn’t be smart in an iron lung.”

“Don’t make me stop this car, Potter.”

“Severus,” said Erin, her tone placatory.

“Why would you call the Dark Lord, ‘Tom’?” bit out Severus again.

“Because it’s his name. He was named after his Muggle father: Tom Riddle.”

Severus was silent. He drove on for about a quarter of a mile before he spoke again. “How could you possibly know that? I have never heard any such thing.”

“Of course you haven’t,” said Harry. “He wouldn’t advertise the fact that he was a half-blood, would he? Not when his creed is that the only wizard worth knowing is a pure blood wizard.”

More silence. Severus was too shocked to speak straight away. But Potter sounded too sure of himself to be making this up. And why would he say such a thing anyway? There was nothing to be gained from such a statement, except his Professor’s wrath.

“It still eludes me how you could possibly know this,” Severus finally said again.

“Tom Riddle told me,” said Harry. “At least, his memory told me. Down in the Chamber of Secrets.”

“His memory…”

Harry took a deep breath and explained what had happened during his foray into the Chamber of Secrets. Erin had twisted around in her seat and stared, open-mouthed at Harry as he spoke of memories coming to life and then Fawkes extremely timely arrival, bringing with him Gryffindor’s sword, which had enabled him to kill the Basilisk after Fawkes had blinded the powerful serpent first.”

“How old were you?” asked Erin in shocked tones.

“Err, twelve.”

“Twelve, and breaking school rules again, were you not Potter?” said Severus nastily. In actual fact, he was reeling from these revelations. Albus had never told any of the staff what had happened that night, only that Ginny Weasley had been rescued and that there was no longer any danger.

Severus, of course, had known that Potter and Ron Weasley had been responsible for the happenings of that night because they had both received awards for services to the school, but Albus had been very closed mouth.

“If I hadn’t broken school rules, sir,” Harry was saying with a sneer, “Ginny Weasley would be dead; her body would never have been found, and Tom Riddle would have been back with us in a much younger body because he would have entirely bled Ginny’s soul from her and taken it for his own.”

Erin shook her head and slumped back in her seat. Just when she thought she may be getting used to the world of magic, she heard a tale like this one which was so amazing, it defied belief. Well, didn’t it all defy belief?

“How did you find this chamber Harry when no one else had been able to do so…not even Professor Dumbledore?”

“Erm…” Harry wished he hadn't started this conversation now. He didn’t want to tell Erin that he was even more of a freak than she probably already thought him because he could talk to snakes.

“Yes, Potter, how did you find the entrance?”

“I knew that a girl had been killed the last time that the Chamber had been opened fifty years before,” explained Harry reluctantly, omitting the whole episode where he was in possession of the diary after Ginny had thrown it away. “Ron and I found out she had died in a bathroom and we thought it might be Moaning Myrtle.

“We went and asked her; it was her who had been killed and she told us that she had seen a huge pair of yellow eyes moments before she died. She had seen the Basilisk near the hand basins in that girls’ bathroom on the second floor; the one that is always out of order, and I looked around there and found a tiny engraving of a snake on a tap.” Harry fell silent again and hoped Snape would be satisfied…but no.

“And?” he said impatiently.

“And I opened the entrance by speaking Parseltongue,” snapped Harry. “It was the only thing that would open it. That’s why Riddle had been the last to open it because he was the last person at the school who could speak Parseltongue. He was the last living descendent of Salazar Slytherin’s.”

“But his father was a Muggle?”

“Yes. But his mother was a witch and she was a descendent of Slytherin’s. Riddle had fashioned the name Lord Voldemort for himself while he was still at Hogwarts. He didn’t want to keep the name of his filthy Muggle father…his words. Pretentious berk!” Harry added the last in an undertone.

“What is Parseltongue?” asked Erin. When Harry didn’t answer, she turned around to look at him. Harry could feel his face heating up. “Harry?”

“Err…”

“Potter has a talent that is extremely rare even in the wizarding world, Erin,” explained Severus, and Harry was surprised to hear that there wasn’t a hint of derision in his voice. “He can talk to, and understand snakes. Parseltongue is the term used for a person who has this talent.”

Erin was staring at Severus, her expression incredulous. “Snakes have a language?”

“It would appear so,” said Severus.

“Can we change the subject?” said a very red-faced Harry. “Maybe you can answer my question now, Professor. Was there anything in the papers yesterday?” Harry knew that Snape had also ordered today’s newspapers with breakfast, but after a quick glance at the headlines, he had taken them and put them in his bag for later perusal, as he had wanted to get under way as quickly as possible.

“Nothing that you need be concerned about, Potter,” answered Severus a little too airily.

Harry seethed. “So if there was something in the Muggle papers—and there obviously was—then it would be in the Prophet as well. So everyone can see what he’s up to, but not me. Is that right?”

“Potter…”

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but this is crap. I’m the one who suffers when he does all of these things, but I can’t know what it is he’s actually done.”

“I do not see the point in you worrying unnecessarily. I have come to know that you take the responsibility for all of the Dark Lord’s actions upon yourself, Potter. There is nothing you can do.”

“But I’m worrying anyway! I know he’s done something horrific. I’m just going to stress out thinking up all sorts of terrible scenarios. And I will find out eventually, anyway.”

Erin reached across and laid her hand on Severus’s forearm again. “He’s right, Sev,” she said quietly, and Harry was grateful for her support.

Severus was silent for a while, obviously wrestling with himself. Harry had almost given up hope when the man spoke. “It would appear that he has caused a large suspension bridge to collapse,” said Severus. “At least, it seemed that the bridge collapsed about the time you were experiencing pain on the ferry.”

Severus could feel Harry’s stricken gaze boring twin holes in the back of his head. A glance in the mirror showed the boy had lost every vestige of colour from his face. Erin reached back and put her hand on Harry’s knee.

“This is not your fault, Harry,” she said softly.

“How many people were killed?” asked Harry, afraid of the answer, but having to know anyway.

Another pause before Severus, again reluctantly, said, “It appears about a dozen cars plummeted into the river below…last night they had estimated at least twenty people had died. Today, that has been amended to eighteen cars and thirty people dead.”

Harry leant back and shut his eyes. All those people…dead because he was not ready to go into battle with this animal. How many more had to die because he was incompetent and weak and scared…because he wasn’t ready to fulfil his destiny? And even if he ever became ready, he knew what the outcome of a one-on-one battle with Voldemort would be. He would die, and then the only difference to the atrocities that were being perpetrated now in the name of the purity of wizarding blood was that he, Harry would no longer be around to despair for those targeted by Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry did not utter another sound for the next several hours. Severus kept on stealing glances at the white, set face of the young boy through the mirror and Erin kept on turning around to check on him. They too remained silent most of the time and Erin switched on the radio and found a station that played soothing music. She turned it down low so that it was only just audible above the noise of the tyres on the road and the other traffic resolutely filing southwards towards London.

They had passed the border a couple of hours back and Severus knew that he needed a break from driving. Erin had offered to take the wheel several times, insisting that she was a perfectly competent driver. But Severus felt that this was his job, and besides, he knew that if he was just sitting in the passenger seat, he would become less than alert, and if anything untoward were to happen, he would not be conscious of it immediately.

Eventually, Severus pulled into the crowded parking area surrounding a large service station and restaurant. It was obviously very popular with lorry drivers as there were about half a dozen articulated lorries parked.

Harry had opened his eyes as the car slowed and turned. He blinked owlishly and sat up, staring vaguely through the windscreen. Severus saw when the reality that was Potter’s life impinged upon his consciousness again because the boy suddenly looked infinitely sad. Harry leaned back and closed his eyes again, not even opening them when Severus turned off the ignition.

Erin reached back and patted Harry’s knee. “Come on, Harry. We’re going to have a break and something to eat.”

Harry sat up again and looked around, almost as if the first perusal of the car park had not registered. “I’m not hungry,” he said in a croaky voice.

“You might feel differently when we get inside,” cajoled Erin and when Harry joined Severus and herself, she looped her arm through his.

“Have you got your wand handy, Potter?” asked Severus.

Harry’s hand automatically felt for his wand, even though he was always aware of it nestled against his skin. He nodded.

“Just stay alert. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry.

Severus nodded, once and then urged Harry and Erin to walk ahead of him. into the large, half-full restaurant. Harry seemed to come to life a little as he took in the full tables and the bustle and noise around him. Life went on, despite Voldemort.

Severus ushered them forward towards an area away from the large plate glass windows at the front of the restaurant. They slid into a booth; Severus insisted that Erin slide in first so that if anything happened, Harry would be able to get out quickly and have easier access to his wand. He whispered in Erin's ear before she slid onto the bench seat, that she was to dive under the table without hesitation if anything was to happen.

After another surreptitious look around, Severus relaxed a little and took a laminated menu that Erin passed across to him. The booth on the other side of the wooden divide to the side of them was empty but there were people in both booths to the front and rear.

Erin insisted that she be the one to go and get the food—there was no table service—and after ascertaining what they wanted, she went and stood at the end of the short queue waiting to be served.

Severus and Harry were silent for a short time, Harry watching the comings and goings of the throng and Severus keeping a close eye on Erin as well as the crowd. A couple of small children were running around the bank of booths they were seated in, and making a lot of noise. Severus didn’t know how long he would be able to put up with that, and wondered why the parents didn’t make them sit down, but Harry was happy to watch their high-spirited game of chasey.

“Aidan, I wish to talk about what we were discussing in the car,” said Severus. Harry had started at the use of his alter-ego’s name and he looked at his father.

“What about it?” said Harry warily.

Severus leaned forward with his forearms on the table. He spoke quietly. “I would like to go into it in much more detail at a later date,” he said.

Harry looked confused.

“I’d like to see the video when we get home,” said Severus, meaningfully.

Harry looked at him as if he was mad. Severus put his left elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand, tapping his forehead with his index and middle finger. He made the attempt to raise one eyebrow but it seemed that Paul Vale did not have that particular talent and both of them rose.

He tapped several more times and Harry finally got the message. He looked at Snape incredulously. As if there was anyway on God’s Earth that he would allow Snape to muck around with his memories again.

“I haven’t got the video,” Harry said bitterly, and then, before Severus could react, Harry said, “I'm going to the loo.” He jumped up and headed towards the toilets.

Severus’s lips thinned with irritation. Brat! He was about to follow Harry, but Erin, who had only been steps away carrying a laden tray when Harry erupted from the booth, hurried forward and prevented Severus from leaving.

“Let him go, Se…err…Paul. She slid her slim body onto the bench next to Severus, preventing his escape. “He’s only gone to the loo.”

Severus tried to breathe himself to calmness, accepting a cup of espresso from Erin, not at all happy about leaving the boy by himself. Potter was trouble waiting to happen. He looked in the direction Harry had gone; the toilets were off a hallway at the end of the section of the restaurant where the row of booths was situated.

“Stop being paranoid,” said Erin quietly. “He needs a little time alone.” She took a bite of her toasted ham and avocado focaccia. “Now eat your food.”

Severus looked grim, but he still picked up a half of his toasted egg and bacon sandwich and took a bite. He watched as a big, burly Muggle with a substantial beer gut passed their booth on the way to the toilets. Severus eyed him beadily, but dismissed him as being a wizard and a follower of the Dark Lord.

‘What happened?” asked Erin, between cooling blows over her cappuccino.

“Just Aidan being Aidan,” answered Severus. “I am profoundly glad that I only have one child. If ‘twere possible, I’d gladly give him away, but I doubt there is a market even for free of charge sulky, disobedient teenagers.

“That’s a bit harsh Paul,” Erin said in instinctive defence of Harry, and Severus’s scowl deepened. Erin then looked at Severus archly, and with a half smile on her lips, she said, “and don’t get too complacent, brother dear. You’re still young enough to become a father…again.”

Severus looked at his sister, surprised,and then shook his head emphatically. “I was not thrilled to be informed I would be embarking upon the difficult undertaking of paternity, in the first place, sister dear,” he countered. “A second time is definitely one time too many.”

Erin put the remains of her focaccia down with careful movements and wrapped her hands tightly around her cup. She avoided Severus’s probing gaze. “Really?” she said. “And does your new lady concur with your choice to not have more children? Perhaps she wants to be something more than an ostensible step-parent.”

Severus had gone very still. This was not a conversation that he had ever envisioned himself having, even in this oblique form. “It is not something my new lady and I have discussed, Fiona. It’s early days yet.”

Silence fell between them. Finally, Erin said, “I see.” Severus could tell she was far from happy. They carefully avoided each other’s eyes and used their drinks and food as a barrier against further conversation on this subject.

Severus was in shock. How had the conversation descended to this? He had not meant his comment to be an introduction to the topic of parenthood and he couldn’t believe that Erin had pushed it forward as she had.

Severus had never factored fatherhood into his life…particularly considering what his life was. And as far as he was concerned, anybody who would even think of bringing a child into a world where it appeared more and more likely that the Dark Lord was going to reign supreme needed to have a serious rethink. Not to mention all the terrible things that Muggles did to each other in the name of a higher entity.

Severus appreciated that Erin might not have fully gotten her head around the full scope of just what the Dark Lord and his forces were capable of. Not totally surprising, as it wasn’t even two weeks since she had become a part of the wizarding world…though she had certainly had a torrid introduction, what with her whole street being destroyed.

But she was an educated woman and she had lived in the violent Muggle world for twenty-eight years. That was as big a deterrent to having children as far as Severus could see, as the Dark Lord was.

Why would she desire to bring a child into today’s world?

Erin had not meant her initial flippant comment to turn into an interrogation of Severus’s thoughts on fatherhood. What had she been thinking? She had practically advertised her desire to one day bear his child, for God’s sake!

But though she knew she had not known Severus very long at all, she just knew that she wanted him to be the father of any children that she may one day have. Children had never been Erin’s number one priority. She had never wanted a baby with Grant and she thanked God that she had never become pregnant to him, despite his desire to have a son to carry on in his arrogant, egotistical footsteps. He had once laughingly told her that he only wanted sons; he had said girls were too much trouble, that they needed too much nurturing. He had made it sound as if he was joking, but Erin had known he was totally serious.

But now it looked as though she had really put Severus on his guard, and she hadn't meant to do that. He couldn’t have made it plainer if he had written it across his forehead that he did not want to be a father. She loved Severus, and she knew she would not want to have a baby with any other man. She wanted his child…one day…not tomorrow, and not in nine or ten months time…but one day, she would like to be the mother of Severus Snape’s child.

So where did his stance leave her? Certainly, it had not been an in-depth discussion…it was too early in their relationship for that. But this attitude was definitely an indicator to what the outcome of future discussions would be.

Erin sighed. She had Severus Snape. She loved him. She was not going to lose him by demanding that he allow her to have his child. Still, she knew that there would always be a small emptiness within her if she did not have his child. And she couldn’t but help feel a little upset over his seemingly rigid viewpoint.

Erin stood up abruptly. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said in as normal a voice as she could muster, and Severus watched her hurry off. He kneaded his forehead with his fingertips. He didn’t have the time, nor the inclination to think about this now. He didn’t want to think about it at all, and he wouldn’t. He had Erin, and he knew she was as happy as he was, so, he would just make sure that she was totally content with just the two of them. He might not be able to put this plan into action until they got rid of Potter…

Severus suddenly sat up straight. He went very still, like a dog that had just caught the scent of a rabbit. Potter…How long ago was it that Potter had gone to the loo? Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty? Too bloody long!

Severus slid out of the booth and strode towards the toilets. His hand was clasped tightly around the handle of his wand and he held it against his jean clad thigh, sure no one would notice, but at this point, that wasn’t a priority. He ran into Erin as he turned the corner to the toilets.

“What?” she said in a frightened voice, his fear instantaneously transferring to her.

“Potter!” he said as he pushed past her and thrust his way through the door into the men’s toilets. Erin followed automatically. There were three urinals against one tiled wall and three hand-basins against the opposite wall. Three cubicles stood open but it was obvious at a glance that the bathroom was empty.

“Shit!” ejaculated Severus. His eyes took in every inch of tile and porcelain, but there was nothing to see. He turned abruptly and ushered Erin back out of the bathroom. On the other side of the hallway, there were two doors, one to the female bathrooms and the other, a bathroom for the disabled. Severus saw that the lock registered engaged. A door with an exit sign over the lintel stood at the end of the hallway and Severus strode towards it and thrust it open. There was nothing to see outside but more concrete car park boasting several cars, and empty land beyond the boundaries of the service station and restaurant.

“Erin, go and see if the idiot boy has gone out to the car to wait for us. And if he has…” Erin didn’t wait to see what Severus would do if Harry had left the restaurant by himself; she hurried through the fire escape door and set off quickly around the side of the building.

Severus, despite his outward irritation, was officially in panic mode. What had he been thinking? He should have gone after Potter straight away. He was positive that there had been no wizards in the restaurant…that there had been no danger. He was positive he would have detected the presence of another magical person. But could he have been wrong? No…the bloody irritating child was most probably outside sulking, but he would go back into the restaurant and look around anyway, though he knew it was a pointless exercise.

But as he turned back inside and let the door swing shut slowly on its hydraulic mechanism, the narrowing shaft of light illuminated something that made Severus’s heart skip a beat. He rushed forward and bent to pick up the eleven inch tapered, slender wooden rod from where it lay on the floor, against the wall between the female and disabled bathroom doors.

Potter’s wand. Severus’s mouth went dry and for a moment, all his thought processes locked down. He stared down at the feathery carving that ran the length of the wand and then encircled the thicker, handle end. Then as he stared, his sluggish brain slowly kicked into gear. If Death Eaters had captured Harry Potter, they would not have left his wand behind. The Dark Lord was very interested in Potter’s wand. He wanted this wand and his henchmen had been given orders that if they captured Potter, they were to bring the wand to him. No one would be stupid enough to leave this wand behind.

It would appear as though the idiot child had been accosted by a Muggle. It would have to be a Muggle large enough and strong enough to overpower a twelve year old boy, so probably not a woman. It seemed as though the boy had tried to draw his wand, but had been overpowered and the wand had been dropped.

Severus pushed open the female bathroom door and strode in, uncaring as to whether he upset any delicate sensibilities. The space was as empty as the men’s bathroom had been. And then Severus remembered the locked door on the disabled toilet. No-one had exited since he had entered the hallway. He strode out of the ladies, and as he approached the next door, he distinctly heard movement behind it. He bashed on the door with the side of his clenched fist.

“Harry! Are you in there? In his panic, all thoughts of their alter-egos had flown out the window. There was no answer, but Severus heard a faint cry followed by scuffling, a dull thud and a grunt of what was definitely pain. That was all the invitation he needed. The locking mechanism for this disabled bathroom did not have the option of opening it from the outside without a key, which the management would have in their possession. And the doors of all the bathrooms were very thick and solid, perhaps even metal under their coats of paint.

Severus pointed his wand at the lock, uttered a determined Alohomora which had the lock spinning rapidly to ‘vacant’. He roughly shouldered the door open. The sight that met his eyes burned into his retinas, making him see everything through a haze of red. In those few seconds Severus Snape, Potions Master and trusted friend of Albus Dumbledore, became Severus Snape, vicious Death Eater.