Harry looked up at his father , and he could see the pain in the older man's dark eyes. The expression was a mask as usual, but the eyes couldn't hide the hurt reflected in them. It was the first time that Harry had ever seen his father falter, or seem unsure of himself.

Severus put an unsteady hand on his son's shoulder. "Come."

Severus was silent as Harry followed him out of the Great Hall, up a series of staircases, and was surprised when they headed towards Dumbledore's office.

"What are we-"

Severus' look silenced him.

Harry felt his stomach flutter when he noticed a nerve twitch in his father's face, and his jaw was set in a hard line. Whatever his father had planned for him, Harry knew it was something that Severus was not comfortable with.

Harry had to smile when they stopped before Dumbledore's portrait; he was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and snoring so loudly that his beard rose in the air every time his chest rumbled.

"Headmaster," Severus said, with not even the twitch of a smile.

Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered opened and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Harry and Severus standing before him.

"Harry, Severus, how nice to see you. And Harry, how are you doing my boy? You look so much like your father now," Dumbledore said with glistening eyes.

Harry smiled shyly. "I'm doing well sir." He touched his hair self-consciously. "It takes a little getting used to, but it's nice to have hair that finally behaves," he said with a laugh.

"So, Harry... Severus, to what do I owe this pleasure?" His smile faded when he noticed the serious look on Severus' face.

"I was wondering if I might use your Pensieve, Albus?"

Harry's eyes widened.

Albus look taken aback. "Of course Severus."

Harry felt the knot tighten in his stomach again. He had a feeling that he knew what Severus was going to show him, and he wasn't particularly looking forward to it.

Albus motioned for them to go ahead and Harry followed Severus, not daring to even whisper a word at the man whose face was set in a sombre expression.

The large silver Pensieve sat upon the marble stand, where Harry had visited it, just a few short weeks ago. Was it possible that his whole life had turned around in such a short time? He'd discovered a father, was possessed by Dark Magic, beaten to a pulp by an overgrown baboon, and discovered what it meant to have someone be there for the long haul and not give up on him, no matter how bumpy the road along the way. And the irony of it all, was that the person that he loathed the most, and thought loathed him, turned out to be the one who would be there for him, every step of the way, like no one ever had before.

Severus withdrew his wand from his robes pocket, and clutched it to his side for a moment. He prepared himself mentally for what he was about to do, pointed the ebony wand to his head, and drew out a long silvery thread, directing it into the shiny basin and filled it with the shimmering liquid.

Severus stared at it for a moment, and then motioned for Harry to stand beside him.

Harry stared at the swirling liquid, apprehension making his tongue feel like it was too big for his mouth, and his clenched fists, feeling as though they were grasping onto water.

"Come Harry," Severus commanded quietly as he looked deeply into his son's emerald eyes.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, drawing strength from his father's arm on his shoulder. They both allowed themselves to be sucked into the tornado-like funnel of the silvery liquid, head first.

Harry felt like his internal organs had been wrung inside out. Eventually though, his feet turned upright, and if it weren't for Severus' steady hand that was still holding his shoulder, Harry would have fallen flat on his face on the hard wood floor.

Harry took in his surroundings. It looked as though they were in a sparsely furnished cottage, probably owned by a Muggle, Harry figured, assessing the Muggle appliances and electrical fixtures.

The sound of a child wailing came from the other room. Severus motioned for Harry to follow.

Harry gasped when he saw a large hulk of a man, shirt hanging out of his trousers sloppily, and a thick, leather belt in his hand. He was standing over a scrawny, black-haired boy of about ten years old, his dark, red-rimmed eyes filled with tears. His hands were clasped over his head as he looked up fearfully at the large man towering over him.

"I--I'm sorry father, it won't happen again," the young boy said in an anguished voice.

"You're damned right it won't happen again, because if it does, I won't be so easy on you next time," the older man slurred.

Harry's stomach roiled at the stench of alcohol that permeated the room.

"Go on," the man growled.

The young boy scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, and ran through the kitchen doorway, into the parlour and up the creaking stairs.

"And if I catch you using magic again, you'll be sorry you were born," the large man yelled after the boy, his booming voice echoing through the small cottage.

"And you-" He staggered over to a darkened corner, where a petite young woman, with large blue eyes was cowering in the corner. She looked up in terror at the man who was now grasping the front of her blouse.

Harry felt a rush of outrage when the man drew back a large, beefy hand and belted the woman across the cheek. Her head flung back with the force of the blow, and she cried out in pain.

Without thinking, Harry surged forward, clasping his wand so tightly that he thought that he'd break the thick wood. He wanted to hex the big oaf within an inch of his life.

Harry felt a strong hand clasp around his upper arm, and looked up in despair at Severus, who shook his head.

"This is all your fault," the man bellowed. "He's inherited your freakishness. I'll not have that in my house."

"But Tobias, he can't help it. He-"

Another crack wrenched through the silent room.

"He'd better help it if he knows what's good for him."

Tobias stumbled to the parlour and grabbed a large bottle of scotch off the bookshelf, staggered to the couch and threw his large, hulking form onto it. He guzzled down the rest of the bottle, until he dozed off into a drunken stupor.

Harry looked up at Severus. The man's face was drained of all colour, and his lips set in a thin line.

Suddenly, Harry felt himself pulled upwards through a tunnel, landing hard on his feet; once again back in Dumbledore's office.

Harry peeked a glance at Severus, but the man's face was emotionless.

Severus remained silent, but motioned with his hand for Harry to follow him.

As they passed Dumbledore's portrait, he noticed that the Headmaster's expression was one of sadness. He must have guessed what Severus had planned, Harry realised.

"Goodbye Harry...Severus," he said, strong emotion lacing his gentle tone.

Severus walked by silently, staring ahead, not looking at Harry behind him, or at the Headmaster's sorrowful expression.

-------

Severus closed the door to his quarters behind him, and pointed to the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but the burgeoning ripples of pain only intensified throughout his skull.

"Have a seat."

Harry sat back on the couch and took a deep breath. Severus sat down across from Harry, and clasped his hands together.

"Do you have any questions about what you saw, Harry?" Severus asked quietly.

Harry threw his hands up in the air. "I have a million questions about what I saw."

The corner of Severus' mouth lifted slightly. "A million questions, have you? Well, that might take some time."

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "But, I never knew-I mean...I guess I kind of assumed that your father was a little, uh-abusive after hearing you and my, uh-mum talking in the Pensieve, but, I guess I just didn't realise that it was because he liked to drink-" Harry stopped abruptly. Realisation dawned in his eyes. "So this is why you're so against drinking."

Severus looked intently at his son. "I've seen first-hand how drinking can ruin your life, Harry."

"Yeah, I know." Harry furrowed his brow. "It's strange though. Uncle Vernon was the opposite," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, he only ever beat me when he was sober, so I-"

Harry stopped when he realised what he'd said and the look of fury that had contorted Severus' usually controlled features. Harry had never admitted to anyone, not even his friends, just how abusive his relatives had been towards him.

"That bastard hurt you?" Severus said in a dangerous voice.

"It wasn't that bad." Harry looked down..

Severus leant forward and gently lifted Harry's chin up to look him in the eyes. "Perhaps we should visit your memories in the Pensieve."

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "No."

"We will speak of this again, Harry. The subject is most definitely not closed.”

"But Severus, there's nothing that can be done now; it doesn't matter anymore anyway."

"It most certainly does matter Harry.”

Harry looked at Severus with a mixture of gratitude and reluctance. He really didn't want to talk about his life with the Dursleys, but he supposed that since Severus was willing to open up about a part of his life that he'd rather forget about for Harry's sake, Harry figured that the least he could do was trust his father enough to confide about his painful past with the Dursleys.

"You said that your uncle only beat you when he was sober. You are implying that he liked to drink."

Harry took a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess I always thought that since drinking always seemed to calm Uncle Vernon down, that drinking wasn't such a bad thing," Harry admitted reluctantly.

"Not everyone reacts to alcohol the same way, that is true," Severus agreed. "But that does not mean that alcohol is the best way to bury your sorrows or to escape from reality."

"Yeah I know."

"Do you Harry?"

"Well, I guess I didn't really before, but I think I do now. After seeing the way that your father acted. I mean, I guess I always knew that it wasn't a good idea to drink, but it just seemed that Uncle Vernon was so mellow when he drank, and he'd just fall asleep, and he never-"

"Yes, so he never hit you while he was drinking, but it's very possible that when he sobered up, it made his temper that much more volatile--that he didn't know how to handle his raging feelings without the aid of alcohol to temper his spurts of anger. And yet others, like my father, seem to be fueled by the effects of alcohol."

"We need to talk about the very real fact that my father was an alcoholic, and it sounds like your Uncle was one as well. Each allowed their lives to be controlled by a highly addictive substance."

Harry nodded. "I guess. So you're worried that the same thing will happen to me?"

"There have been some very convincing arguments Harry, that alcoholism is genetic. As my grandfather was also an alcoholic, and his father before him, I tend to believe the validity of such an argument."

Harry gulped. "Does that mean that I shouldn't drink at all?"

"No, of course not, but you need to learn moderation." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not always going to be around to keep an eye on you."

Harry was surprised at how much that thought saddened him. He hadn't realised how much in the past few weeks he had relied upon Severus' guidance and strong presence to keep him from making stupid decisions. He'd never had an adult to guide him before and he had to admit that it was a wonderful feeling to know that he had someone now.

"Yeah, I understand."

"I hope so," Severus said sternly.

"I promise that I've learnt my lesson Severus. I never want to end up like your father...or uncle Vernon."

Severus studied Harry's face, and breathed a sigh of relief at the look of sincerity he saw in the boy's eyes.

"There are other things to consider, Harry. Every person has a different tolerance for alcohol. As you weigh so little, you are particularly susceptible to its effects. Perhaps a good habit to get into would be to set yourself a limit of one glass or two, no more. Perhaps your friends could help in this matter. Also, make sure that you take care not to drink on an empty stomach."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "I guess that would be a good habit to get into."

"Also, there is something else to keep in mind. While the legal age in the Wizarding World is seventeen for getting your apparition license, being able to use magic unsupervised, and yes, for alcohol consumption within reason, parents are still responsible until their children are eighteen years of age, and have graduated from Hogwarts. In other words Harry, I'm still responsible for your behaviour and your actions until you reach the age of eighteen, or graduate from Hogwarts. This bylaw was put into place so that students in their seventh year, while given more responsibilities and privileges, would also continue to have parental guidance and support. You are still considered of age at seventeen, but your parents can't just abandon you the minute you turn seventeen."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. No one had ever told him this before. It was nice to know though.

"Also, remember that the legal age is eighteen in the Muggle world, so you can't drink if you go into a Muggle pub or other institution that serves alcohol, or you might find yourself in trouble with the Muggle authorities. You must drink responsibly and realise the inherent dangers that lurk for you, not only because of your genetic pre-disposition to alcoholism, but as a responsible young man."

Harry took a deep breath. There was so many things that he hadn't considered. His mind was spinning. He felt a twinge of guilt for having taken the whole issue of drinking so lightly. He owed it to Severus, and to himself to really take a look at himself and change his whole mindset.

"I think perhaps that you should spend another couple of hours on your essay, while this lesson is still fresh in your mind," Severus said in a low, controlled voice. He was not about to let on to Harry how much the visit to his past, and to Harry's for that matter, had drained him emotionally.

Harry sighed. He really wasn't in the mood to write an essay, but he supposed that since he was restricted to their quarters, and was not allowed visitors, that there wasn't anything else to do.

"Fine," Harry said reluctantly.

Severus thought that perhaps he shouldn't make Harry's time spent down in his quarters too pleasant since it was supposed to be a punishment, but after learning that Harry's past had been so similar to his own, he couldn't help himself.

"I have some papers to grade, so perhaps after I've finished, and you've made some headway into your essay, we could perhaps after dinner--if it interests you, have a game of chess."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Very well. Get to work on your essay then."

"Yes sir," Harry replied, a little less dejectedly than he would have earlier. Harry chuckled inwardly at the way his spirits had lifted when Severus had suggested playing chess. Maybe by the time my restriction is over, I'll be able to give Ron a run for his money at chess.

Harry headed for his room, and before he knew it, he had filled two parchments, and really took to heart all that he'd seen today in the Pensieve.

Harry would never admit it, but he enjoyed the rest of the evening spent quietly playing chess and talking with Severus. Strangely enough, he had hurried through his meal in the Great Hall, and rushed back to their quarters. Frankly, the meal had been rather awkward anyway. Ginny and Hermione were still giving Harry and Ron the cold shoulder, and Harry couldn't help it but he felt terribly hurt and betrayed. He hadn't had a chance to really confront Ginny and Hermione about whether they really had been responsible for spilling the beans about their party, and Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

---------

"Hey Harry," Ron said with a mouthful of eggs, the next morning at breakfast.

Harry grimaced. Usually Hermione kept Ron in check with his manners, and it showed that he didn't have her to keep him in line. He was shovelling his food down as though he hadn't eaten in years.

"Yeah?" Harry asked curiously.

"Uh, I just thought of something. We're supposed to have our first Quidditch Game of the season this Saturday."

Oh damn, Harry hadn't thought of that.

"Yeah, I don't suppose we'll be allowed to play, or at least not me," Harry said dejectedly. He'd been really looking forward to getting back on a broom.

"Don't feel so bad mate; I really doubt whether McGonagall will let me play either."

"I'll have to ask Severus about it later," Harry said thoughtfully. "It won't be much of a game since we're supposed to be playing Hufflepuff, and half the Hufflepuff team was at the party too."

"Well, McGonagall only said that we all have detention, she didn't really say that we weren't allowed to play Quidditch," Ron said hopefully.

"Yeah, but I'm grounded. I seriously don't think that Severus is going to allow me to play Quidditch, but yeah, maybe Ginny could play seeker, if the rest of you are allowed to play."

Personally, Harry thought that Ron was fooling himself if he thought that McGonagall was going to allow them to play Quidditch, when they had detention every day. He couldn't see the stern witch rescheduling their detentions just so her team could play Quidditch. Although, she always seemed to make exceptions for Quidditch before…

"C'mon, we've got Transfiguration first period, and I don't think that we want to be irritating McGonagall right now." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry sighed and grabbed his bag off the bench.

They made their way to the Transfiguration class, noticing that Hermione kept her distance from them, speaking with Parvati and purposely averting her eyes. Harry got the impression though, that she wanted to talk to them, but wasn't quite sure if she should. She slipped quietly into the classroom, but not before Harry saw her eyes glance over, making brief eye contact with him. Harry thought he saw a look of regret flash over her face briefly, but then she turned her head again.

--

Harry, not paying attention to where he was going, ran into a solid brick wall, or rather, the large form of an angry Adams.

"Well, well, well," the large boy sneered. "What do we have here? Potty and the Weazle."

Harry pulled out his wand quickly. "Sod off Adams."

Adams laughed. "Or else what, pip squeak? You going to go runny to Daddy, junior Snape?” He mocked.

Harry cursed the fact that he was so short. Since Ron was standing there looking like he was in a trance, Harry knew that he'd be of no help.

Okay, so think tough...think tough, Harry kept telling himself over and over again.

"You'll be expelled if you hurt me again, you know," Harry said with false bravado.

"He's right you know."

Harry's widened in surprised when he saw Malfoy step out of the shadows.

"Why don't you leave him alone Adams? I really don't think that you want to be provoking Snape right now," Draco said with surprising bravery.

Harry's jaw dropped. Malfoy was defending him? And against one of his own house mates...a very big one?

"What's it to you Malfoy? I thought you hated Potter's guts," the large boy jeered.

"Oh I do, but Snape isn't someone you want to cross, and Potter is his son now, whether you like it or not. You hurt Potty and Snape's going to kick your arse. I mean if you want to get expelled, or worse... piss Snape off royally, go right ahead and beat the crap out of Potter here. It's not like I give a damn," he said, haughtily examining his fingernails. "It's your funeral, not mine."

Adams looked like he was having an internal struggle, but shrugged, and with an angry scowl turned around and went off in the other direction. Probably to terrorise some first years.

Suddenly, the sound of a shrill clanging of a bell echoed off the stone walls of the castle, and McGonagall appeared at the doorway to her classroom, with a pinched look on her face.

"Are you gentlemen planning on joining the class, or do you intend on conducting one of your own in the hallways?”

"No Ma'am," Harry and Ron replied sheepishly.

Minerva lifted an eyebrow at Draco. "And you Mr. Malfoy,?" She pointed towards the doorway. "Are you going to join the class? The bell has rung, has it not?"

Draco's pale face flushed. "Yes Ma'am."

"Very well. The three of you, inside-Now!"

-------

"Malfoy," Harry called out to the Slytherin as he hurried out of the classroom.

"What you want Potter?"

"I just wanted to say, uh-thanks for before." Ron, who still looked a little shell-shocked that Malfoy would actually jump to their defence, nodded as well.

Malfoy looked down at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Well, I-" he began, but changed his mind, and simply nodded.

Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks as they watched the tall blond walk away.

Harry's brow crinkled in confusion. "I can't believe that Malfoy would actually put his own hide on the line for me, and then not even rub it in my face afterwards."

Ron scratched his head. "Yeah, I thought that you were toast there for a minute, and then Malfoy appears out of nowhere like your Knight in Shining Armour."

Harry glared at his friend. "That is not funny."

Ron chuckled. "Sorry mate. Couldn't resist. But you've got to admit, it's really out of character for Malfoy to stick up for you."

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, but I'm not really sure that I like being indebted to Malfoy."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to owe Malfoy anything," Ron agreed. "But then again, he did save your skin."

"I'm thinking that he just doesn't want to disappoint Severus again. I'm not fooling myself that he really cares what happens to me.'

"Yeah, I guess not," Ron agreed.

Harry hiked the strap of his book bag back over his shoulder. "Well, I have Potions now, so I guess I'll see you at lunch."

"Yeah, I've got Divination."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't believe that you took Divination of all subjects."

"C'mon Harry, it's an easy Newt. Just think, I predict my own death... your death, and the rising of the new Dark Lord, and poof-" He snapped his fingers. "-I get an Outstanding for spewing a whole lot of rubbish. And she barely gives any homework. Better than Potions, even if it is with Slughorn. But then again, I'm not a Potions' prodigy like you are." He rolled his eyes.

Harry scoffed. "Uh Ron...I don't have my little helper anymore. You know the Half-Blood Prince's Potions book. I'm not a prodigy at anything anymore."

"Oh right."

"Yeah. Believe me, it hasn't been fun having to look at Slughorn's disappointed face every time I blow up a cauldron, or totally destroy a potion."

Ron snickered. "Yeah, I bet he's scratching his head trying to figure out what happened to his best student."

Harry glowered at him.

"Severus is not too pleased with me either. I'm ruining his reputation. He's making me spend almost every minute he can with him tutoring me in Potions."

Ron made a face. "Well, that's what you get having a Potions master as a father. Me, well my Dad is proud of me if I bring him a -uh, what'dya call it? A Muggle bottlecap."

"Yeah, I could just imagine Severus' face if I gave him a bottlecap."

"Well, I'd better go. All I need is for Slughorn to complain to Severus that I'm late for class again."

"Yeah, have fun mate." Ron said sarcastically.

"Oh, and Ron," Harry called back to the redhead, "have mercy on me when you're predicting my untimely death."

Ron's face lit up in a big grin. "I'll try mate, but I'm not promising anything."

--------

Harry couldn't help it but he couldn't stop the twinge of hurt and disappointment that washed over him at Hermione's continual refusal to even make eye contact with him. He had to figure out a way to corner both her and Ginny, and find out what really happened the night of the party.

Did the both of them go running to McGonall and Snape, and if they had, he wanted to know why. He missed his best friend and his heart ached for Ginny. It seemed as though things hadn't been the same between them since his appearance had changed. He missed her sparkling eyes, and her soft, red-gold hair, the curve of her hips, and the feel of his lips on hers. Being on restriction made it difficult to find time to talk with them privately, since he wasn't allowed in the Common Room. If only he could get one of them alone.

At the end of his last class, Harry's heart leapt when he spotted Ginny giggling with a few of her year mates. He hid behind a statue and just watched her for a few minutes. The ache of disappointment was almost too much for him to bear, so when he saw her head up towards the Common Room, he threw caution to the wind and followed her.