Harry could feel the pressure in his temples pumping in rhythm with his wildly beating heart. Logic had escaped him now. The voice in his head became louder no--became the dominant one; urging him, overpowering him, taunting and daring him. Malfoy has been the bane of your existence for far too long Harry. You've tried to be compromise. You've attempted to reason with him, you've tried to help him. You've even saved his life, and those of his parents. And what does the prat do? He turns around and stabs you in the back!

By the time Harry reached Snape's quarters, he was breathless, and sweat trickled down his pale face. If he could have seen himself in the mirror, Harry would have been quite concerned; his pallor was pasty, his eyes were glassy and his pupils dilated.

Harry set about searching for his wand, beginning with Snape's bedroom. Harry ignored the other voice in his head that reminded him that Snape would be furious at him for daring to violate his personal space.

Harry yanked open the bureau drawers and flipped through papers, clothes, underwear, and socks, strewing them around the room. Harry moved from room to room, repeating the same process, but to no avail. He plopped himself down on the couch, pulling his hair in frustration. How could he be so stupid? Snape was too careful to leave his wand in their quarters. He would, of course, keep it on his person at all times. He would have known that eventually Harry would give into temptation and look for it, despite all Snape's warnings about self-control and discipline. Snape would have to understand that it was not a simple matter of control, when dark forces were attempting to lure him to their side. It was beyond simple conscious decision.

Harry was impressed that Severus had sunk to the bottom of despair, yet had the strength and self-discipline to turn his life around, from being a lackey to a megalomaniac, to turning his back on all the ideas that had been ingrained in him since he was a teenager. It couldn't have been easy to do. Harry had developed an enormous respect for his father in the past few weeks, as he had gotten to know the man better. Harry was sure that there were many more secrets hidden deep beneath the surface of the man that was Severus Snape.

But he, himself, wasn't as strong, Harry reasoned. It was more than he could bear not to listen to the voice that sounded so reasonable, that made it seem so logical. Dammit, he just couldn't let Draco get away with ruining his life. The hell with it. Harry didn't need magic to get the better of Draco Malfoy. After all, Dudley and his Uncle Vernon had been able to intimidate the hell out of Harry without using a spot of magic. I'll beat the traitorous berk within an inch of his life, Harry thought as he kicked one of Snape's boots which he'd thrown across the room while rifling through the closet. Harry uttered a string of profanities as his trainer made contact with the boot, and sharp pain radiated through his big toe. What the hell were Snape's boots made of anyway, bloody steel? Damn. Damn. Damn.

Harry wasn't even sure where Draco was, but he would track the git down, even if he had to venture into the Slytherin Common room. Harry wondered if Severus was finished with Malfoy. That was another thing that irked Harry. It didn't even sound like his father was particularly angry with Draco. I'm his son, not Malfoy, he thought possessively. Has Severus forgotten that the idiot was responsible for announcing to the world their relationship before they had even dealt with it themselves? Severus had certainly been furious enough when he'd thought that it was Harry who had let the cat out of the bag; but it's not a big deal if its Draco, the guilty party? Why? Because he's a bloody Slytherin, and I'm not, Harry thought angrily. The thoughts were swirling through his head now. Draco wasn't even the sole focus of his anger anymore. He was right pissed off with his father as well.

Harry was panting by the time that he backtracked to Severus' office. Harry jumped back behind a statue as he saw the door open, and Draco hover in the doorway.

“You are to go straight to the Common Room Draco, is that clear?” Snape said sternly.

“Yes sir,” Draco said quietly.

“I will be in touch to discuss consequences for your foolish behaviour,” Severus said wearily, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was beginning to throb. Trying to deal with two emotionally disturbed teenagers was taking its toll on Severus' already jangled nerves.

Harry waited until Severus closed the door to his office, and followed Draco through the corridors leading to the Slytherin Common Room. His hands were sweaty now, and he could feel the blood rush to his head. Draco stopped for a moment and turned around, as if he knew someone was following him.

Harry took advantage of the moment, and advanced on the Slytherin. Seeing the tip of Draco's wand sticking out of his robes pocket gave Harry a brilliant idea.

“Accio Draco's wand,” Harry said quietly.

Harry thought the look on Malfoy's face was priceless as his wand suddenly levitated out of his pocket. Draco's face blanched when he saw Harry step out of the shadows, with Draco's wand in hand.

“What are you playing at, Potter? Give me my wand back,” Draco said furiously.

“Oh...I don't think so Malfoy,” Harry said as he slowly advanced on the other boy.

Draco tried to take a step backwards, but the wall behind him prevented him from backing up further. He put on a brave show, not wanting the unstable Potter to know just how nervous he really was.

“What is your problem? Give me my wand back—now!” He demanded in a shaky voice.

Harry moved his face in close to the other boys. “I'll tell you what my problem is, Malfoy. It's you.”

Harry pointed his wand at Draco. Draco's eyes widened in fear.

Harry could feel his anger consuming him now. Hatred for Malfoy welled up inside him; rushed to the surface. There was no subduing his fury now; not now that he'd unleashed it.

“You-” He jabbed Draco in the chest to make his point. “-and your big mouth. You and your determination to stick your damned nose in everyone's business. That's what my problem is.”

Draco tried to quell his nervousness, and put on a show of bravery. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Harry's eyes flashed in anger. “You don't know what I'm talking about? Well let's refresh your memory, shall we? Does the name Skeeter ring a bell?

“Wh-a-at do yo-you mean?” Draco stammered.

“Don't play games with me, Malfoy. You know damned well what I'm talking about,” Harry bellowed. “I overheard you admit to Snape that you were the one who went running to Skeeter. Not only once mind you—but twice!”

“I'm sorry Po-” Draco began. His mouth was dry, and he palms were moist.

“No, you're not. But you will be,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

Draco licked his lips nervously. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

“For six and a half years now, I've put up with your crap. Well, you know what--it ends now.”

“Put the wand down Harry,” a deep voice said behind him.

Severus. Damn. He hesitated.

“But he's ruined my life. And you don't care. You just let him off scot-free, like usual,” Harry said bitterly.

“That's not true, Harry,” Severus said softly. “Mr. Malfoy will be severely punished for his actions,” he added sternly.

“That's true, Potter,” Draco said quickly. “Professor Snape has already promised me that there will be dire consequences for my foolish behaviour--his words not mine.”

“So what? He's not really sorry about it,” Harry growled.

“That's not true, Potter. I told you-”

“I don't care what you told me, Malfoy. The only thing that you're sorry about is that you got caught.”

“Mr. Malfoy was very remorseful Harry.” At Harry's disbelieving look, Severus tried again. “Harry. Put the wand down, this isn't the answer. You're too good for this. You have to fight it. Giving into your anger will only result in you ending up in doing something that you'll regret for the rest of your life.”

Harry faltered. “But look at everything he's done,” he whispered.

“I know, and he will answer for his transgressions, but not this way; not like this. Trust me to do what's best for you, Harry.” He gave Harry an intense look. "Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation, Harry nodded.

“Then give me the wand. You don't want to do this. You don't want to throw your life away. Not just when we're getting to know each other,” Severus said in a gruff voice.

At Harry's hesitation, he said more firmly, “Put the wand down son.”

Harry lowered the wand, and turned around slowly. Severus nodded to a relieved Draco, who took off like a bat out of hell, to the safety of the Slytherin Common Room. He didn't even think to ask for his wand back.

Severus put his hand out. Harry handed him the wand with a shaky hand. The reality of what he'd been about to do was suddenly beginning to dawn on him. Even Draco wasn't worth ending up in Azkaban for. He looked up at his father guiltily.

“I'm sorry. I-uh, don't know what came over. I just felt so angry,” Harry said, trembling.

Severus put both hands on Harry's shoulders, and looked him in the eye.

“I know, Harry, but you can't give in to it. I understand that what Draco did wasn't right, and he deserves to be punished, but do you believe that what he did was so horrible that he deserves to be hurt, or even to die for it?”

“Oh my God, what have I done? What did I almost do?” Harry whispered. He put his hands to his face. He felt weak, but he couldn't prevent the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

Severus, in an act so totally foreign to him, did something that seemed to come instinctively; he pulled his son close to his chest and stroked his hair. It was as if in that moment, that Severus felt what it really was to be a father—what it was like to feel your child's pain, as if it was your own. He thought his heart would break.

Finally, after several moments of allowing the tears to flow, Harry pulled back and looked at his father through bleary eyes. Embarrassment and shame made him want to hide and never show his face again.

Severus discreetly gave him a handkerchief, and allowed Harry his pride by not focusing on his moment of weakness. "Come, let's go have some tea, and talk," Severus said as he put a hand lightly on Harry's back, gently guiding him towards their quarters.

Upon entering, Harry's face heat up when he realised what a mess he'd made in his fit of anger.

Harry looked up at his father. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I was just a tad pissed off."

"Yes well, we all feel the need to unleash our anger from time to time."

Harry sighed in relief. He thought that Severus would be furious with him for the mess he'd made.

"Why don't I go put on a pot of tea, while you clean up this mess."

"Sure," Harry agreed readily. He was just happy not to have been yelled at. "Uh, can I have my wand please?"

Severus smirked at him. "I think not."

Harry gawked at him. "What?"

"You made this mess without the benefit of magic, and you will clean up every last bit, without the benefit of magic."

Harry stared at his father. He looked around the room. He'd virtually destroyed the place.

"But it'll take hours to clean up this mess without magic," Harry whined.

"Yes, it will. You'd better get started," Severus said as he snapped his fingers and pointed at the mess.

Harry glared at him. "Git," he said under his breath.

Severus had already started towards the kitchen. He whipped his head around. "What was that?"

"Uh nothing. I just said that I'll get right on it," Harry lied.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry, but continued on to the kitchen.

Several hours later, an exhausted Harry plopped down on the sofa, and glared at his father.

Severus chose to ignore his son's scowl, and handed him a cup of tea.

If Harry had had the energy to raise his cramped arm high enough, he would have liked nothing more than throw the tea in his father's smug face. He put his head back on the couch, and lifted his feet onto the coffee table. He closed his eyes for a few moments. He was thoroughly exhausted, and he was sore from head to toe. It reminded him eerily of doing chores at the Dursleys. Of course the similarities ended there. Severus might be a git at times, but at least he didn't beat or starve him.

"I put some pain reliever in that to relieve your sore muscles, and it should help you sleep better as well."

"Oh, gee thanks. My muscles wouldn't be bloody cramped, if you'd just let me use magic," Harry grumbled.

Severus smirked at him. "But then you wouldn't have learnt anything from it, would you have?"

Harry opened his eyes and scowled at his father. "Oh, and what pray tell was I supposed to learn from this? Which cleaning solution is more effective?"

Severus had been about to take a sip of tea, but put in down on the table, and fixed Harry with a stern look. "Perhaps I should set you another essay on the importance of self-control and discipline; five feet should do the trick."

"I'm being controlled by dark forces remember. I can't help-"

Severus leant in closer. "Harry, we've been over this before. I know that it's difficult, but you have to exercise better self-control. I've served many years in the Dark Lord's service. I've been surrounded by Dark forces, much more powerful than what you're experiencing now, but-"

"No offence Severus, but you weren't exactly a pillar of strength when you were my age either," Harry said angrily.

"No, I wasn't-" Severus put a finger up to stop Harry from interrupting, "-but I also didn't have the benefit of having someone older and with more experience, to guide me and keep me from making the same mistakes they did."

Harry fell silent as he studied his father's pained expression.

Severus looked intently at his son. "I would rather you hate me, than to allow you to follow the same path that I did. And you may think my methods harsh, but as much as I've made many mistakes in the past with you, and not been there to protect you from life's harsh realities, I've made a promise to myself that I'll not fail you again; whatever it takes. So if I have to assign you a twelve foot essay, a thousand lines, or have you get down on your hands and knees and scrub all the toilets in Hogwarts with a toothbrush-" he quirked his lips at Harry's look of horror, "-to get it through your thick skull, that you need to control your inclination to act on impulse, then so be it."

Severus smirked at his son. "I figure that even if you hurl a string of profanities behind my back, want to hex me into the next universe, or call me the Greasy Git of the Dungeons, then at least perhaps the message will have gotten through. Maybe if I'd been there for you growing up," he said regretfully, “I could have saved you all the pain you've gone through. Albus meant well, but I'd have never allowed you, or encouraged you for that matter, to put yourself in danger trying to play the hero."

At Harry's glare, Severus elaborated, "I'm not saying that you were to blame, Harry. Merlin knows that you were very young and the Headmaster allowed you to think that you were supposed to be the Saviour of the Wizarding World; even before you knew of the prophecy and what it entailed. Perhaps he thought that it was good preparation for you to ensure your survival against the Dark Lord; but I would have handled things differently had I been allowed to be a father to you.”

Harry studied Severus' pinched face. "Wasn't it you who told me not to live in the past, Severus? I think it's time you took your own advice."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "When did you get to be so wise?"

"I guess it must be genetics," Harry said with smile.

A small smile touched Severus' lips. "Touché.”

“So how about we start over?” Harry suggested hesitantly.

Snape nodded, and took another sip of his tea. “Now that you think you've successfully changed the subject Harry, how about you answer my question.”

“Uh,” Harry hedged, “what question is that?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Very well then. You may use the blue toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.”

“Okay, okay. I have to learn to block out the voices in my head, and fight against my impulse to listen to those voices, and not rush off and act without thinking first.”

“Very good.” Severus hesitated for a moment. “Harry, I know that it was a highly unpleasant experience for both us, but I think that perhaps it is not too late to learn Occlumency.”

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. “No way, Severus. You know what a disaster that was. Besides, what's the point? Voldemort is gone, and once Slughorn comes back and you, he and Dumbledore cure me then why do I need Occlumency?”

“Occlumency is about more than hiding your thoughts from prying minds Harry.” At Harry's blank look, Severus attempted to explain the philosophy behind the intricate art of Occlumency.

“Occlumency, while a useful tool to block out unwanted thoughts, can also be used to strengthen your mind and to increase your self-control. As well, it can be used as a means to lower your blood pressure and heart rate, putting yourself into a meditative state. The brain is your central core and houses the wiring to many bodily functions. If you can effectively learn Occlumency, you can to discipline your mind to control such base emotions, as anger, sadness and happiness."

Harry was fascinated despite himself. It seemed as though Occlumency was much more interesting than he'd ever thought possible. If only his father had of taken the time to explain it in the same way as he was doing now, maybe he would have put in more of an effort in fifth year. Maybe Sirius would still be alive, Harry thought with a pang of regret. Harry sighed.

He was doing it again. It would seem that his mind was drifting to the past, and his father was right. He couldn't erase past mistakes, and it was counter-productive to focus on them, when it wouldn't make one iota of difference in the grand scheme of things. Sirius was gone forever, and he had to focus on the happy memories of the short time they'd had together. But there was one advantage to thinking about the many mistakes he'd made in the past, Harry realised. He vowed to never make those same mistakes again. Not if he could help it.

Severus was right; until he could gain control of his mind, even after they expelled the Dark influences from his soul, he would never be able to be master of his own destiny.

Sometimes Harry thought that he'd made an error by letting the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor. While allowing his braver side to prevail, he'd also allowed himself to foster those traits that had put himself and others in danger. He had been so focused throughout his years at Hogwarts, to prove himself as a brave and noble Gryffindor that he'd never learned how to develop his sense of logic and strategy. Harry had a feeling that he would have greatly benefited from having his father as his Head of House, and Harry was filled with a bitter regret for all that he'd missed out on by not having Severus in his life.

Harry had let go of his anger against Dumbledore quite awhile ago, because he realised that the man really had cared about him and Severus, and had made many errors in judgement, but they really weren't with malicious intent. He still considered the Headmaster a wise and powerful figure, and Harry still cared very much about him. Perhaps he'd been a little harsh in his reaction when he'd confronted Dumbledore about his part in hiding Snape's relationship to him, but Harry knew that Dumbledore regretted his actions, and Harry wasn't one to hold grudges. He'd already decided to make peace with the man at the first opportunity.

Harry's thoughts were so deeply entrenched in the past, that he didn't hear the question that Severus had been asking him for several moments.

The snapping of fingers next to his ear, jolted Harry from his musings. "Earth to Harry," Severus drawled.

"Oh sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "I was just thinking."

Severus smirked at him. "That must take a lot of effort for you."

Harry smiled. "Sorry, I was just wondering, actually, what it would have been like if I'd been sorted into Slytherin."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?" Severus sneered.

Harry laughed. "Well, I'm sure that you'd have probably not let me get away with as much as McGonagall, or Dumbledore did."

Severus scowled. "You're damned right on that. And I can't tell you that there wouldn't have been any of your nighttime wanderings. You would have hated my guts, but at least you'd have been a hell of a lot safer. When I think of the things that Albus encouraged you to do, or allowed you to get away with, it makes my blood boil. Minerva was perhaps a little more attentive to discipline, but she still bent the rules a little more often for you, than I would have, certainly. Allowing you to join the Gryffindor team as a first year, being a prime example.

"You're just sore because Gryffindor finally had a decent Seeker and beat the pants off of Slytherin," Harry said with a smirk.

The corner of Severus' mouth lifted. "Yes well, I must admit that that was certainly something that irked the hell out of me." At Harry's gloating look, he said sternly, "But nevertheless, it set the stage for both her and Albus to place you in constant danger."

Harry scoffed. "How is letting me play Quidditch in my first year, placing me in danger?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow. “You have to ask me how whipping around on a piece of wood hundreds of feet above the ground, could possibly be dangerous for an eleven year old? Particularly an accident-prone one?”

“Hey, most of the accidents that I've had on a broom were not my fault,” Harry objected.

“Only the ones where you were doing foolhardy stunts.”

Harry looked suspiciously at his father. “You were worried about me, weren't you?”

Severus shifted uncomfortably—not wanting to answer the question. The truth of the matter was, that every time since he'd found out that the boy was his son, and had been in the hospital wing, he'd visited, under the cover of night while Harry was sleeping. Of course, he had convinced himself that it was only to make sure that the boy was responding to the many potions that he'd prepared for him, but the telltale wave of relief that he had felt when Harry had recovered, belied this self-denial. Upon reflection, Severus wondered if he'd not sensed long before fifth year that his and Harry's relationship went beyond that of student and teacher.

Severus remembered the unexpected terror he'd felt, when he had realised that Quirrell had cursed Harry's broom in first year. Severus had tried to find every excuse in the book for his churning stomach, and feeling of panic when he saw Harry hanging off that broom, suspended two hundred feet off the ground, with the prospect of certain death should he fall. Of course, the feeling of relief that he'd experienced when Harry had survived the ordeal, unscathed, and his feet were firmly planted on the ground, was quickly replaced by seething anger at the turbaned professor. He'd wanted to rip the man's turban off his head, and wrap it around his throat. Looking back on it, Severus' wave of fury over the possible harm of a much-hated student had been odd and Severus had not examined his feelings too closely. Instead, he'd gone on to treat the boy even more harshly to mask his own ambiguous feelings.

“I don't know if worry would be the correct term,” Severus finally answered. He didn't quite meet Harry's eyes. The past few weeks had been draining for him, and not only because he'd been returned from the dead by his estranged son, but because he had experienced emotions that he thought that he'd successfully buried away long ago. He was emotionally exhausted and the immediate future promised little solace as well as intense self-examination; something that Severus hated with a passion. He'd had to examine more closely than ever before, every action, every emotion that he'd ever felt towards his son, and to do so he'd had to think about not only his past regrets regarding his son, but with Lily as well.

Severus cleared his throat, and hurried to change the subject. "Well, perhaps it would be a good idea for us both to retire. Tomorrow Horace will be arriving and the next couple of days will be most taxing on both of us."

“Yeah, I'm beat.” Harry bit his lip. “Uh, Severus,” Harry asked anxiously, “how sure are you that you can find a cure to this-this problem?”

“Harry, I can assure you that Albus and Horace are extremely powerful wizards, and for the record, your father is no slouch at magic either.” He got up and put an assuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Oh Merlin, he thought, this was becoming a habit. Being a father is making me soft.

“Now, how about for once in your life you have trust in someone else, and not take the weight of the world upon your shoulders.” He exerted a little pressure on Harry's back for him to rise.

“You're not alone anymore, Harry.”

Harry could see the warmth in his father's usually cold eyes, even though the man's harsh expression had not softened.

Their eyes met, and Harry thought that though his father had not been overly sentimental or demonstrative, those words held a lot of meaning. Perhaps because he knew his father was not the type to lie just to make someone feel better.

“I know,” Harry said softly.