He was swept up in the pull of the vortex, and then was spit out of the Pensieve unceremoniously, onto the floor of Dumbledore's office. Flashes of hot and cold coursed through Harry's veins, and his heart was pumping an erratic beat; the sweat was trickling down his brow, and his palms were moist. A mixture of shock, anger, and hurt, made his emotions swirl out of control; he couldn't believe it--they had lied to him-- Dumbledore and Snape both!

Harry's myriad emotions erased all logic from his mind, as he stared at Dumbledore’s new portrait. Harry had not experienced this kind of anger and frustration towards the Headmaster since his fifth year. Dumbledore lied and kept secrets from me then as well, Harry thought furiously. He approached Dumbledore's portrait, with trepidation, and started to shake the portrait's frame.

"Professor Dumbledore--wake up."

Dumbledore's eyes fluttered open. The Headmaster's slumber had been interrupted by what felt like an earth-shattering tremble.

Dumbledore took in Harry's stony expression, and asked with concern, "Harry, my boy--whatever is the matter?" Dumbledore enquired in his normally gentle tone . " If I have offended you any in any way, I-"

"What is the matter, Professor," Harry said coldly, "is that you lied to me for the past seventeen years!"

Dumbledore looked taken aback. "Whatever do you mean, my boy?

"Do not pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about," Harry said frostily. "I know the truth; I went into Snape's memories—I know everything."

Dumbledore's face paled. "What do you mean everything Harry?"

"I know that Snape is my father, and that my whole life is a bloody lie!" Harry clenched his fists, till his knuckles turned white. A fresh wave of anger and hurt swept over him again, and Harry couldn't dampen the conflicting emotions towards the man before him. "Why didn't you tell me that Professor Snape is my father?" Harry said, his emotions making his voice come out very quietly.

"Harry...I know that you’re angry, but--" Dumbledore began.

"Angry doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling Professor," Harry interrupted. Saying that he was angry, would have been simple, but the waters that were Harry's emotions, ran much deeper than that. Fury was most definitely at the forefront, but there was also an empty ache in his heart, and his stomach somersaulted wildly out of control. No...anger was not the only sentiment that he was experiencing. "You. Lied. To. Me!"

Harry felt completely out of control. Tears were threatening to erupt and he struggled to maintain his composure. It was not an easy feat. "You kept secrets from me--let me grow up with people who despised me, starved, neglected, and abused me, and you knew all along, that I had another living relative, that could have taken me in. And Snape-- how long did he know that he was my father?"

"Since your fifth year," Dumbledore answered hesitantly. “I told him after you had seen Severus' memories of him and your mother. I feared that you would perhaps decide to explore more deeply, the relationship between Severus and Lily. I thought it prudent to inform him that you were his son—and let him decide how to handle the situation."

"So, he just pretended that nothing had changed, and went merrily on with his life--is that it?" Harry asked with resentment.

"Harry--by that point, Professor Snape had already resumed his spying duties for the Order, and could not reveal his familial connection to you. It would have been too dangerous to acknowledge your relationship publicly. Harry, please try to understand-"

Dumbledore looked at Harry pleadingly. The Headmaster had had to make many difficult decisions over the years, and he had--contrary to others' opinion of them--always attempted to do what was best for all concerned.

"NO, I don't want to understand!" Harry said forcefully, and glared at Dumbledore; he pointed his finger at the Headmaster. "And you? What was your excuse for not telling Snape, or myself, that he was my father?" Harry asked accusingly.

"Severus was consumed with grief after your mother died, Harry; he was not capable of looking after himself--let alone an infant."

"That doesn't explain why you waited fifteen years to tell him; why you never informed me at all," Harry said countered.

"I was concerned that if I had told Severus sooner, that he would insist on removing you from the care of your relatives--where you were the safest--because of the blood wards," Dumbledore admitted.

Harry's eyes widened at this proclamation, and he felt the blood rush to his head. "I'm tired of your excuses Professor, and I am fed up of hearing about the blood wards--your lies cost me my childhood." His voice caught in his throat, and again his eyes prickled with unshed tears.

"Harry...I am so sorry; I never meant you any harm--I only wanted to protect you," Dumbledore pleaded. "Please forgive me," he whispered.

"I'm sorry Professor, but I need time to think about this." Harry looked at Dumbledore sadly. "All I ever wanted was a normal childhood, and now I find out that I could have had one, if it weren't for you." Harry was certain that even Snape would have been a better choice of guardian than the Dursleys. Hell, anyone would have been a better choice, he thought crossly.

His shoulders slumping, Harry turned around slowly, and walked out of Dumbledore's office, silently closing the door behind him.

Tears fell from Dumbledore's blue eyes, and rolled down his pale cheeks. Dumbledore had known that one day he would have to answer to Harry, and today was judgment day...

--

Harry felt numb, as though he was having an out-of-body experience; as though he was watching the past seventeen years flash before his eyes--like clips from a silent movie. But it was all a lie...

Harry ascended the stairs to Gryffindor Tower; agonizing thoughts clouding his befuddled brain. He needed to rest and soothe his frazzled nerves. However, Harry would be denied that respite. The moment he lay his head down on his pillow, the memories that he had viewed in Snape's Pensieve came to the forefront of his consciousness...

By about three o'clock in the morning, Harry had abandoned his quest for sleep; it was a fruitless endeavour. Moonlight filtered in from the parted curtains, bathing the Common Room in an iridescent glow. Harry grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, put on his slippers, and donned his dressing gown. He padded his way over to the window seat, and stared with unfocused eyes at the Hogwarts grounds beyond. The Forbidden Forest looked ominous in the dark night light, and there was a hazy grey smoke billowing from the chimney of Hagrid's cabin. He briefly wondered how Hagrid was doing and if he was with Madame Maxime.

His mind just wouldn't allow him to escape the conflicted emotions that fluctuated between anger, despair—confusion, and frustration. Harry couldn't help being bitterly disappointed in Dumbledore; He had always placed his utmost trust in this man to have all the answers; but now, Harry was left wondering just how many of those answers throughout the years, had been lies!

And to be perfectly honest, Harry would never have fathomed that he could view Snape in any other role, other than professor; and yet--he found himself wondering what his life would have been like, had he been given the opportunity to grow up knowing that Snape was his father. Harry was struck with sudden clarity, that Snape had also been lied to--and manipulated by Dumbledore. Snape was fed information only at intervals to keep him in line; to do Dumbledore's bidding.

Harry was certain that if Snape had been aware of their familial connection, from the beginning--before his opinion of Harry had been formed, that Lily had borne him a child, that Snape would have been ecstatic. Harry had seen the depth of Snape's love for his mum, and Harry could not believe that Snape would have not been overjoyed to have been the father of her child. Much of the animosity that had existed between Snape and himself had been due to the hatred that Snape felt towards James Potter; and his belief that Harry was James' son.—yet another lie perpetuated by Dumbledore, Harry thought bitterly.

Harry felt a strange, burning desire to know more about Snape—his father; to know the man, not the cruel, vindictive Professor that had made his life a living hell. In so many ways, Dumbledore had played God with both of them. Harry wondered if Snape would have become a different person, had he been allowed to be a father to Harry.

It was with this thought in mind, that Harry made his way down to Snape's office in the dungeons. He muttered a quiet "Alohomora", and with a swish of his wand, the door opened. Harry began rummaging through Snape's office, thumbing through the impressive array of books on the shelves, searching through the desk drawers. He wasn’t quite certain what he was searching for; perhaps some pictures of his mother, or even some letters; but knowing what a private person Snape had been, Harry knew that it was highly unlikely.

"Maybe I should search Snape’s private quarters; maybe I’ll find something there," Harry thought to himself. Harry was just about to exit Snape’s office, when he felt a slight vibration coming from the last drawer in Snape’s desk. What the hell is that? Harry leaned down to pull on the drawer. "Damn, it's stuck!" Harry said with frustration. "Alohomora," he commanded. The drawer remained stuck. He attempted several spells to unlock it but, to no avail. Damn...what the hell could Snape have in there that's so bloody secret? he wondered. Then in frustration, he kicked the drawer with his foot, and he heard a pop. "So much for magic," he chuckled to himself. Harry opened the drawer, and pulled out a tattered, and very familiar book. "Snape's Potions book," he said with wonder. "Wow!...you've saved my life more than once!" Harry said appreciatively. But why on earth was it vibrating?

Harry flipped through the pages of the book slowly, uncertain what its contents would reveal. But it would appear that his caution was unwarranted. The Potions manual looked no different than he had remembered. As his weary eyes skimmed over page, after page of Snape's scribbling, he started to feel frustrated that the book did not contain some instantly revealed secrets.

Harry was about to put the book back into the drawer, when the pages started flipping wildly of their own accord, and when-- suddenly-- the movement stilled, it landed on a page filled with Snape's scrawl. The book reminded him eerily of Riddle's diary; Harry shuddered. The words "Horcrux", "soul", and "immortal" leaped up from the page, and Harry's curiosity was peaked.

There were also several phrases written, in what looked like, Latin. Could they be spells? Hermione would know what they mean, he thought. Harry was struck suddenly, with a realization. It couldn't be... what he thought it was? Harry's stomach fluttered with excitement. Was it possible? Could it be? Was the Potions book, a Horcrux?

Harry hid the book under his robes, and stealthily made his way back up to the Tower. He had no desire to run into any of the Professors whom had opted to remain at the castle, to aid in the restoration, and to prepare for the eventual return of the students. Harry mounted the stairs so swiftly, that he almost tumbled down when the staircase changed directions.

When he finally made it back to his dorm, Harry sat down gingerly on his bed; his body was weary with battle fatigue, and his mind was reeling from all that he had learned. Harry examined the potions book more closely, and wondered if this book had anything to do with Voldemort--but no, it could not have, since he’d destroyed all the Horcruxes. Harry yawned and rubbed his tired eyes. I need sleep, he thought. He would attempt to find the answers to the mystery when he woke up.

Harry lay his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. He finally succumbed to a disturbed, restless sleep filled with bizarre dreams of Nagini's teeth sinking into Snape's neck, blood slowly trickling from his wound, and Snape clutching Harry's robes. Snape whispered..."look at me..."look at me..." He pulled Harry closer and looked deep into Harry's eyes...."look at me.....son" As he took his last dying breath, Snape mumbled, "Horcrux...book..." His head flopped to one side as he finally succumbed to death...

Harry shot up in bed, beads of sweat trickling from his forehead. His heart was pumping in rhythm to the pounding in his head. The dream was so vivid. It felt so real, so horrifically real....

Harry rubbed the grit from his burning eyes, and rested his head in his hands. Snape had created a Horcrux out of his old text, Harry was certain of it. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place--Snape had been assuring his own immortality--he had been determined to return from the veil, should death claim him. Snape had wanted to live, Harry thought. Maybe, just maybe, I can give him his wish...

Harry awakened to bright sunlight illuminating the room. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the brilliant glare. His head was pounding, and when he attempted to rise from his bed, the room started to spin wildly--he lay back down on the bed for a few minutes to regain his equilibrium. "In the space of twenty-four hours, I've defeated Voldemort, lost Fred, Remus and Tonks, found out that my whole identity had been stripped from me, and discovered that the one bloody person whom I trusted the most in the whole damned world, has betrayed me," he thought angrily. "It's no wonder that I'm a little barmy," he thought.

An idea was beginning to form in Harry's mind, and even though he knew that it was a very risky venture, Harry just couldn't let it go. Snape had helped him defeat Voldemort, had placed his life in danger repeatedly every time he returned to Voldemort's side, and pledged false loyalty to him. Yes, Snape had revealed the prophecy to Voldemort, had been in part responsible for Lily and James' deaths, but he had paid his debt tenfold...with his blood and soul. Yes, Harry thought, maybe Snape deserved a second chance....at life.

Harry started thinking about what he had learned about Horcruxes, when he had entered into Horace Slughorn's memories, with Dumbledore...

"No...well...you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom. That's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Slughorn. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed a part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, Sir." said Riddle.

His voice was very controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, and hide part of it in an object outside of the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged."

"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic...."

"Yes, of course," said Riddle quickly.

"But all the same, Tom...keep it quiet what I've told--that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think that we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know...Dumbledore 's particularly fierce about it..." .

Harry hadn't been the only casualty in Dumbledore's grand plan; Snape had surely suffered as much as Harry had. After all, Snape had lost Lily--a woman that he had loved more than life itself--had been denied his rightful place as Harry's father by James Potter; a man whom he had loathed.

Bitter feelings of anger and hurt towards Dumbledore, once again rose up like bile--and his lack of sleep was impeding his thought processes. I need Hermione's help, Harry decided, as he lay his head back down on the pillow....

Hermione and Ron had barely recovered from their initial shock of finding out that Snape was Harry's father, when Harry dropped the bomb about his plan to return Snape from the Veil, by means of Snape's Horcrux. Of course, his friends thought that Harry must be emotionally unstable after having Voldemort in his head for years, and thought that he needed professional help to even contemplate the idea of dabbling in Dark Magic. And the topping on the cake was that Harry wanted to use it to bring Snape back to life; Ron thought that Harry was positively barmy! "Snape? He made your life a living hell mate; why on earth would you want him to bring him back?"

"You weren't there--you didn't see Snape's memories. Snape cried when Voldemort murdered my mother, Ron. Snape cried!" Harry emphasized.

Ron's jaw dropped. "The greasy git can cry?" he asked incredulously.

"Ron!" Hermione admonished. "Professor Snape is Harry's father." She shot Ron a warning look.

"I know, but…Snape just always seemed...you know...like he didn't have any feelings." He shot an apologetic look at Harry. "Sorry mate, but this is just too weird...all of it!"

"It's just a lot to take in Harry," Hermione added delicately.

"Yeah, c'mon Harry...you know--um...I mean...wanting to bring Snape back from the dead?” He looked horrified. “It's just creepy!"

"I know...but Snape is the last link that I have to my mum, Ron." Harry's eyes moistened with tears. "They were best friends; they grew up together. Ron...if you had been in the Pensieve with me...if you could have just seen how much Snape loved my mother...you'd understand! I wouldn't have defeated Voldemort if it weren't for Snape either." Harry lowered his gaze sadly.

"We understand Harry--we really do, but resurrecting Snape from the dead...I just don't know..." Hermione said uncertainly.

"C'mon Hermione...I can't do this without you guys. And you," he glanced at Hermione slyly, "can help me research how to use the Horcrux to bring Snape back, and translate some Latin phrases that were in Snape's Potions book. Didn't you get an Outstanding on your Latin Spell work class last term?"

"Well...I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a look; after all...you and Ron are simply pathetic at Latin," she added haughtily.

"And you Ron...I wouldn't want anyone but my best mate helping me with something so important to me; after all...we've been through thick and thin together...I can't imagine doing this without you!" I really should have let the sorting hat put me in Slytherin, Harry thought sneakily.

"Uh… ok, anything for you mate," Ron said, preening. His face flushed with pride.

Hermione relentlessly jotted down notes from the volumes of Dark Magic books that she had filched from Dumbledore's office earlier this year--when the three had decided to go in search of Voldemort's Horcruxes. As well--she searched through various Ancient Latin spellbooks, in hopes of translating the writing inscribed in Snape's Potions manual. At last, Hermione had compiled a lengthy list of items that would be required to complete the ritual.

"Snape's Horcrux is quite unique," Hermione explained. "While it still utilizes Dark Magic as it's basis, it is created in a different manner from that of Voldemort's Horcrux. I need to explore a bit further....but Snape's Horcrux requires a potion called "Anastasis Potion". Unfortunately...while the book lists some of the ingredients required--some of which are rare, by the way--they don't instruct on the proper procedure to prepare it. Also...there are some other items that might be a bit difficult to obtain," Hermione said with concern.

“What about Snape's Potions Book, it's not in there?" Harry began flipping through the text, his eyes skimming page after page digilently, coming up empty.

"I have already searched the book Harry, there is nothing..."

"Maybe I should go back and search Snape's office again," Harry suggested. "Snape was a Potions Master, after all, he must have all the ingredients in his stockroom, and maybe he wrote down the insructions somewhere. His face suddenly took on a thoughtful expression. "You know...Snape was a genius at Potions, maybe he didn't need to write down the instructions....maybe they were in his head," Harry said worriedly.

"Yes...and that could be problematic," Hermione interjected. "Time is of the essence as well Harry. It states in the book, that the Ritual best takes place within 72 hours of death; before the remaining parts of the Soul leave the body."

"We can't afford to waste anymore time," Harry said firmly.

"Are you sure that Snape is worth all this trouble Harry? Ron asked doubtfully. He scratched his head, and scrunched his face up. "No offence mate..."but, I still think that bringing Snape back from the dead is creepy.!"

"You were there Ron--you know how I defeated Voldemort--you know that if it wasn’t for Snape, I wouldn't be standing here..."

"You know we'll help you Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "You deserve to know your father."

Ron snorted. "Sorry mate, but it's just hard to imagine Snape--of all people, being your father. Hermione shot a warning look at Ron. "But yeah...Hermione's right--of course we'll help you."

Harry returned to Snape's office, and began to skim the surface of Snape's desk, and empty out the drawers, searching for anything that might aid them in their quest. There's got to be some clue, Harry thought with frustration. Snape wouldn't have created a Horcrux, without preparing the Potion to return his soul back to his body, he thought. . "Found it!" Harry exclaimed, as he spotted an old tattered peice of Parchment with the heading "Anastasis Potion", peeking out from under a book on Snape's desk. Harry then began selecting the required ingredients from Snape's storeroom. Exhausted...Harry finally completed his task. After an thorough search of both Snape's office and quarters, they were still missing several essential items to complete the ritual.

Unbeknownst to Ron and Hermione, the latter whom would have lectured him sternly, Harry returned to the Chamber of Secrets, to see if perhaps Riddle had a hiding place where he had secreted details about his Horcruxes. Finally, Harry stumbled upon a hidden cavern where it would appear that Riddle had stashed a veritable treasure trove of Dark artifacts. There were numerous books on Horcruxes and Dark Magic, and several volumes containing ancient Latin spells. There was also a wooden box that held six black candles, inscribed with what looked like Egyptian Hieroglyphics. Harry shuddered...he could feel the evil emanating from the cavern.

Harry gathered up the items, and hastily exited the Chamber. He made his way back up to the Tower, and excitedly showed Ron and Hermione his discoveries. Hermione, of course delivered a stern lecture in her usual schoolmarm tone, for having revisited the Chamber of Secrets. It was extremely foolish to put yourself in danger once again, what if you could not find a way to return this time; no one would know your whereabouts, and on and on she droned, until..... "Aw stuff it Hermione, the man's fine," Ron rolled his eyes and darted a conspiring look towards Harry. "Women, I tell you," he said to Harry. Hermione, of course, delivered a sharp swat to Ron’s shoulder. Harry chuckled.

Later...the three sat cross-legged on the Common Room floor which was littered with books and papers. Hermione suddenly looked up from her notes, and fixed Harry with a stern look. "Are you absolutely certain that you want to do this Harry? This is Dark Magic, and it's extremely dangerous," Hermione said, her tone laced with disapproval. "The book warns of how implementing Dark Magic could cause rebounding magic to the caster Harry; there's a danger of you turning Dark.. Also it warns that should the spell go awry, Snape's soul could forever be lost in limbo," Hermione lectured.

"Yes, I'm sure Hermione--let's get started," Harry said in frustration. He was anxious to put his plan in motion, and he was tired of Hermione's mollycoddling. He was an adult now, he was aware of the dangers he was facing, and he didn't want or need Hermione's constant badgering.

Armed with the candles, Snape's Horcrux, the book on Dark Magic, and a phial of Snape's blood, which Harry had discovered when he went back into Snape's office, the three friends headed to the Shrieking Shack. Harry reckoned that Snape's body should still be there. He had not informed anyone of Snape's death, other than Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore. Most people had not questioned Snape's whereabouts, as they were too preoccupied rebuilding their lives.

Harry's stomach lurched when he saw Snape lying on the ground, his face alabaster, and lips tinged blue. Congealed blood caked the large wound on his neck, and his eyes looked like glass marbles in their sockets. Harry hesitatingly touched Snape's arm. It was rigid and cold as ice; rigormortis had set in. While he had seen it for himself, the violent manner in which Snape had died, seeing only the shell of the man lying lifeless before him--slapped Harry with hard reality. Hermione and Ron came to stand beside Harry. Hermione placed her slender hand on his shoulder. Hermione's face was pale and her hand trembled slightly; Ron's freckles stood out starkly against his chalk-white complexion. The three remained silent for several minutes...

"Uh...do you think we could just do this and get it over with?" Ron asked nervously. His pallor still resembled the colour of sour milk, and his eyes were glassy; the pupils fixed and dilated. He shivered uncontrollably, and his heart palpitated so loudly, he felt as if his chest would explode. What the hell did I get myself into, he thought?

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said quietly.

“Harry, I’ve translated the Latin phrase that Snape wrote in his book. It means to reunite the soul with the body,” said Hermione as she was re-reading the instructions from the text, yet again.

“We’ve been through this a thousand times already, Hermione--can we just do this?” Ron muttered. The lump in his throat was making it difficult to swallow.

“I know Ron, but everything must be perfectly synchronized, or it could have disastrous consequences,” Hermione lectured.

"OK, let's do this," said Harry said with determination. He motioned to Hermione to light the fire under the cauldron that was filled with the Anastasis Potion; she had brewed it according to Snape's instructions. With a sweeping motion, Harry waved his wand, and whispered, "Lumos," lighting all six candles in succession. The shadows from the flickering candles danced on the walls, illuminating the Shrieking Shack in an eerie glow. Harry shuddered.

Taking a sharp-edged dagger, Harry rolled up the sleeve on his left arm and cut a small incision. The wound began to bleed profusely, and Harry placed his arm over the now simmering cauldron, and allowed three droplets of blood to fall into the potion. Harry touched his wound with his wand and it healed instantly. Harry then retrieved the phial of Snape's blood from the pocket of his jeans and emptied the contents into the mixture as well.

"Blood of the son knowingly given--I will renew my father" Harry chanted softly. When Snape's blood was added to the concoction, the ruby red liquid began to swirl, and the shimmering vapour was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds. A hazy cloud began to slowly rise from the cauldron.

"Ron, are you okay, mate?" Harry asked in concern.

“Yeah, I'm fine," Ron answered anxiously. In reality...he had broken out in a cold sweat, and was trembling uncontrollably.

"If you're sure...hand me Snape's book please.”

Ron handed him the book with shaky hands. "OK, Hermione...Ron.” Harry gave them both a serious look. “When I pour the mixture onto the book, all three of us have to chant the phrase that we practiced."

Harry sucked in a deep breath. With resolve, he dipped the ladle into the shimmering liquid, and slowly dripped the solution onto the open book. Suddenly--a vaporous cloud rose from the pages of the book and the incandescent mist floated upwards. Harry raised his wand and guided the detached soul towards Snape's lifeless body.

"Body and soul will once again unite as one," Harry recited

The soul then hovered directly over Snape's body, and the three chanted..."Reconcilio Corpus et Anima," The vapour formed into a tornado-like funnel, and began spinning violently--it then entered Snape's body, slowly seeping into the skin. Suddenly--Snape's body began to convulse, and then stilled. Harry kneeled down beside him, and touched his shoulder lightly--Snape remained motionless. Harry looked helplessly at Ron and Hermione. "It didn't work--he's still ...dead," Harry said in anguish.

Hermione and Ron moved closer, looking at each other in confusion. "Perhaps we missed a step," Hermione surmised, "or maybe the potion was not prepared correctly. But I'm certain that I took the utmost care in assuring the quality of the potion."

"I'm sure that you did everything correctly Hermione," Harry said consolingly. "Maybe I didn't say the words properly."

"There is no bloody way that we made a mistake mate," said Ron. "Hermione drilled us over and over again on every step."

"Then why isn't he waking up?" Harry said with frustration. He examined Snape more closely, and heard a slight raspy sound; he grew excited--He thought...no...he imagined that he heard Snape breathing. "Hermione, I think that he's breathing--come listen!"

Hermione leaned in closer, and put her ear to Snape's chest. She felt a slight whisper of air on her cheek, and Snape's chest began rising gently. Suddenly...Snape's arm jerked upwards violently. Hermione fell backwards with the force of the impact to her head.

Snape's eyelids fluttered open, and he looked dazedly at the trio.

“Sir? Harry said hesitatingly. Snape stared at him for a few minutes, and then his face clenched in pain, as he shakily attempted to stand. Harry went to offer his hand, but Snape slapped it away angrily.

"Po-tter," Snape croaked. “What happened...what am I doing here?" Snape asked in confusion.

"Well...Sir...you see--you died, and..." Harry stuttered nervously.

Suddenly...it all came rushing back to Snape, as if he was having a nightmare. There were flashes of The Dark Lord...and Nagini...sinking her teeth into his neck...Snape reached up to his neck and felt the dried blood...the wound was but a scar now. The spell had healed it... "I was dying...I gave you my memories...I-" Snape halted, and he glared at Harry.

Snape’s eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion, and he pursed his lips. He surveyed the room, and his glance fell on the Potions book, the cauldron, and the black candles. Realization suddenly dawned on him. His eyes flashing, he hissed…“Potter… what the hell have you done?

“I-I-" Harry could not form a coherent sentence. His vocal cords felt paralyzed, and the blood rushed to his head. Suddenly...the enormity of what he had done, hit him like a ton of bricks.

Snape's hand shot out and grabbed Harry by the collar--lifting him up on his toes. He looked down at Harry from his considerable height, and said, "You think this is a game, you little fool?" he spat venomously. "You have obviously used Dark Magic to bring me back from the dead. I want to know how you did it?”

Harry's stomach curled, and fear assaulted his senses. Snape is surprisingly strong for someone who has just returned from the clutches of death, he thought. Harry was loudly snapped out of his reverie...

"I asked you a question boy!" Snape bellowed, eyes flashing dangerously. He leaned down to Harry's height and his face was so close, their noses were almost touching.

Eyes wide--Harry gulped nervously, "Uh...I used your Horcrux to bring you back."

"You what?" Snape screeched. He let go of Harry's collar, and Harry jerked backwards--almost losing his balance. "Have you lost what little mental capacity that you had left?" Snape asked furiously.

"I don't understand why you're so mad...I mean-- "

"You don't understand why I'm so mad?" Snape asked incredulously. "Well..let's see...you have dabbled in very Ancient Magic that is so Dark , that it taints your soul, it consumes you until you are no longer capable of free will. As well...you could have risked my soul forever being lost in limbo--had anything gone wrong with the spell in any way."

"But the spell didn't go wrong, did it? You're here...very much alive, and now you get a second chance," Harry reasoned.

"You still don't understand what you've done--do you Potter?" Snape asked. This is Dark Magic...it can consume you, turn you dark...Typical...you go rushing off without a thought for the consequences...”

"I did think about the consequences," Harry insisted, clenching his teeth.

Snape snorted and lifted an eyebrow. "Yes...you are well known for thinking things through, aren't you Potter?"

"Why the hell did you create the Horcrux to begin with if you didn't want to come back then, Snape?" Harry could feel the anger slowly start to simmer below the surface.

I only created the Horcrux at the Dark Lord's insistence Potter." A pained look overcame his features. "The Dark Lord wished his most loyal followers, myself included," Snape said bitterly, "to become immortal, like him. Do you have any idea how a Horcrux is made Potter? To split your soul apart, you must perform unspeakable acts of evil. The Dark Lord asked...No...ordered his followers to--" he stopped, his face clenched in pain. "torture and kill muggles. You are but a child, Potter...a boy pretending to be a man," Snape sneered. "This is just one of your usual--"

Harry finally lost his temper..."You know what...Snape--I did this for you--so you would have a second chance, but as usual you choose to only see the worst in me." Harry said furiously, clenching his fists. "It doesn't even make a difference to you that I'm your son, does it Snape?"

"Son?" Snape spit out the word like it was vomit. "Is that why you did this Potter? Were you hoping that we would have a family reunion, that we would be a happy family--well...I have news for you boy; I'm not in the market for a son--and I sure the hell don't plan on playing Daddy to The-Boy-Who-Lived!" Snape said maliciously.

"Fine...you know what? I've gone seventeen years without a father...and I did just fine. I sure as hell don't need one now!" Harry fought to prevent the tears from escaping his eyes. Bitter disappointment rose in his throat; He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting...but this was not it! "I would have thought that you would be grateful that I gave you a second chance to live in a world without Voldemort--you're free now, which--by the way-- you have me to thank for."

"Do you wish me to kneel down upon bended knee Potter--and kiss your feet?" Snape said sarcastically.

"Go to hell Snape!" Harry yelled. Rage and disappointment swelled up inside him, and he felt an overwhelming sense of defeat. "And the only thing you can kiss--is my arse!" Harry said, eyes flashing in anger. "You are an ungrateful bastard--you know that Snape? Stay the hell away from me, and I'll stay away from you," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"That's fine by me Potter," Snape sneered. "Go live your life and I'll live mine." Snape searched the pockets of his robes for his wand, before he remembered that the Dark Lord had confiscated it.

"Looking for this Snape?" Harry asked mockingly, and pulled Snape's wand out of his jeans pocket, and threw the wand at the older man's feet. "I retrieved this from Voldemort's body for you, after I vanquished him". Harry eyes flashed with anger. "No thanks are necessary," he said sarcastically.

Snape glared at Harry disdainfully, and Accioed his wand to himself. With a smooth movement of the hand, Snape vanished the cauldron, the candles, and every last vestige of the Dark ritual that had been performed. He turned to Harry, and said "I suggest that you refrain from revealing to anyone the events that have taken place here--that you have dabbled in Dark Magic..."

As Harry watched Snape leave the Shrieking Shack, he felt an ache in the hollow place, where his heart used to dwell. Regret and disappointment washed over him; all the anticipation and excitement that he had been feeling over the past couple of days, evaporated into thin air...

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron, who had been watching the whole exchange with morbid fascination. "C'mon guys...we're finished here..." Harry said sadly. He started towards the door...

Severus Snape was not a man to allow his iron-clad emotions to run amok, but he was experiencing great difficulty in controlling his spiralling anger...and shock. The little fool had used Severus' Horcrux, to return him from the Veil! The bloody Ambassador for the side of the Light--had dabbled in Dark Magic! He thought incredulously. Severus nursed his Scotch, and allowed his thoughts to wander...

He had been dealt an incredible blow when Albus had first informed him that none other than The Boy-Who-Lived, was his son. Severus had, of course, experienced a succession of emotions when he had been told that Lily had kept her pregnancy from him. Severus' initial reaction had been blinding fury towards the Headmaster for his betrayal. Then...Severus' anger had turned to hurt; how could Lily have...not only kept the secret of her pregnancy from him, but then... married Severus' sworn enemy--and allowed said man to raise Severus' son! It still, to this day, gobsmacked him how Potter could have intended to raise Severus' bastard child.

Severus raised himself gingerly from the sofa, and went to stand before the hearth. He added another log to the fire, and stared into the flickering flames; the warmth enveloping him like a warm blanket. Severus' body was still adjusting to his new status of living-being, and he was having great difficulty in maintaining his body temperature at an acceptable level.

The chill clung to his bones, and he felt as if he were immersed in a tub of ice water. How is it possible, he thought to himself, that less than 72 hours ago, he had laid dying upon the cold, hard cement floor of the Shrieking Shack...staring into Potter's eyes...Lily's eyes? Now...he was faced with an uncertain future, an unwanted future. He had not been afraid to die, because he had been looking forward to seeing Lily again. He had foolishly hoped that she would have forgiven him in death, for what she had not in life. He had fantasized that she would have pronounced him redeemed for his sins, because he had martyred himself for the cause;What a childish, whimsical notion, he admonished himself.

Severus was left wondering where he went from here. Potter was correct about one thing.. If the Dark Lord were truly vanquished, as Potter had claimed, then he was finally master of his own fate. He would no longer be bound by guilt and servitude to two masters, albeit that the Headmaster was not as harsh a taskmaster as the Dark Lord. For once in his life, Severus would not forced to account for his every move--he was a free man...

Severus knew that he had been rather harsh with Potter, but the boy had deserved it! Severus knew better than anyone, the price to be paid for succumbing to the allure of Dark Magic. It had beckoned him, with it's mystery and power...but slowly...the Dark Magic had consumed him, tainted his soul, until he could no longer distinguish between right or wrong. He had been only a couple of years younger than Potter. Grown men have become ravaged by the evils of Dark Magic; a boy Potter's age would not have the maturity, or the discipline to resist its pull towards the Dark side..

Severus downed the last of his Scotch, intending to rest his weary body and mind. Severus lay his aching head upon the pillow, and closed his eyes. Severus was suddenly struck with the realisation that he would have to decide what to do with his future. He really had no desire to teach those dunderheads. Though...there were many of his Slytherins who could use his guidance and support, as many of them had lost their parents, friends and family--while in the Dark Lord's service. But Severus also knew that there would be some who would feel betrayed by him, and what of those in the Order? Would they question his loyalty as well?

As Severus had not witnessed the final battle, nor the subsequent defeat of the Dark Lord, he was quite uncertain how the other teachers, and Order Members would greet him. Had they been convinced of his treachery; would they attack first, and ask questions later? He could always ask Potter for an account of how events unfolded, he supposed, but considering the clear hatred the boy had displayed earlier towards him, it was not a viable option. He was aware, though he would not admit it--but, under the influence of Veritaserum--that he was wholly responsible for provoking Potter's wrath.

But--damn it! The boy had acted foolishly...impulsively! Merlin, if Potter was, in fact, his son, then where the hell did he get this rash, irresponsible nature from? Certainly, Lily had been a Gryffindor, but she had never displayed the reckless, rule-breaking behaviour that her counterparts had engaged in. She was brave, yes but never did she rush headlong into danger without a thought for the consequences like Potter...his son, did!

For years...Severus had been rescuing the idiot-boy from himself. As a Slytherin, he never quite understood the Gryffindor's fascination with tempting fate--it was like the boy believed that he had earned another notch in his belt, each time he cheated death! In addition...matters were exacerbated when the Headmaster would encourage, or turn a blind eye to Potter's little escapades. Giving a child of eleven an invisibility cloak, encouraging him to return to the past, with the aid of a time-turner, and allow him to wander the Forbidden Forest at night, whilst a werewolf roamed free. Allowing a mere child of fourteen to participate in the Triwizard tournament with the excuse that he was bound by the rules of the tournament. Yes...Albus Dumbledore had placed his prodigy in harm's way more often than Severus cared to count.

Severus allowed himself to relax by occluding his thoughts of Potter, and of the heavy burdens he faced in the future. Severus fell into a restless sleep, and his nightmares consisted of his own murder; Nagini's fangs sinking slowly, and deeply into his neck, and a slow-motion, play-by-play of the events of the night he had murdered Dumbledore. Severus woke up in a cold sweat, with beads of perspiration running down his face. A calming draught would be in order. No matter that Dumbledore had beseeched Severus to murder him--to die on his own terms--Severus could not assuage his own guilt.

Finally Severus was permitted relief to rest his tormented mind. With the early morning, light would come...another day--another day of reliving the horror of his own death, and the conflicting feelings of his unexpected rebirth....and another day of answering those questions which Severus would have preferred to remain in the deep recesses of his mind...

-----

"Give Snape some time Harry--he's had a terrible shock," Hermione said consolingly.

Harry looked at her doubtfully, and jumped up from the couch angrily. "You heard him Hermione. He wants nothing to do with me," Harry said furiously. Disappointment washed over him once again, and he was having difficulty controlling his smouldering temper. It would take little to ignite the flames. What had he been thinking? How could he have ever entertained the idea that Snape would display undying gratitude towards him, for giving him a second chance?

Was Snape right? Had Harry been hoping for some sort of father and son relationship? Had he actually thought that Snape would be so overjoyed that Harry had used his Horcrux to return him from the Veil, that he would overlook the animosity that had defined their relationship over the past six years? How could I have been so naive? Harry wondered.

"You saw how mad he was at me Hermione," Harry pointed out. "Mad", was an understatement.

"No offence Harry, but Snape had every reason to be angry with you." She raised her hand to stop Harry's protests. "I warned you also, of the dangers of experimenting with Dark Magic." Hermione directed a stern look at Harry. "You took an awful risk Harry, and we still don't know if there are any delayed effects from Rebounding Magic."

"OK--maybe...but he was still a right bastard about the whole thing!" Harry grumbled.

"Humph...did you honestly think that Snape could ever be anything, but...mate," Ron inquired sarcastically.

"Yeah...I actually did," Harry said seriously. His opinion of Snape had improved drastically after viewing Snape's memories in the Pensieve. If truth be told, Harry's opinion of Snape had actually begun to change in his fifth year. After viewing his father’s...James’ treatment of Snape, and his mother's subsequent snubbing of Snape's apology, Harry had actually been quite disappointed in both James and his mum. James' behaviour was inexcusable, and atrocious, but his mum's refusal to accept Snape's apology for calling her a "Mudblood", also left Harry with bitter taste on his tongue. Harry had always wondered if maybe Lily's repudiation of Snape, had driven the professor further into Voldemort's fold. If his mum had shown some compassion and forgiveness towards Snape, and had not snubbed him for James--then perhaps Snape would have been less inclined to yield to the temptation of Dark Magic.

"Harry...like I said, Snape has just received a terrible shock,” Hermione went on. “He just needs time to come to terms with all that has happened. He experienced a violent and painful death, was returned from the Veil by none other than his estranged son, and by means of Dark Magic no less...and then finds out that the cruel, evil Master that he has served all of his adult life, has been vanquished." She looked at Harry sympathetically. "With time, he will come to realise the gift that you have given him, Harry," Hermione said gently.

Harry looked at her sceptically. "Yeah, and pigs’ll fly Hermione," Harry said sarcastically. "Snape is an ingrate and if I never have to speak to him again, I'll be happy. I can't believe that he's my father!" Harry said disgustingly. After the Final Battle, Harry had felt a strange desire to return to the Pensieve. He had wanted to see his parents again, or at least whom he had thought his parents were...and feel their warmth...their love

He had imagined that they would have been proud of him. He had known, of course, that they could not communicate with him, but, strangely enough, he had known that just seeing them would be enough. He had decided that it would be the last time that he would allow himself to wallow in memories...that he had to let go of the past...

"Neither can I mate!" Ron agreed.

Hermione glared at Ron, and shifted her intense gaze to Harry. "All I'm saying Harry, is--don't shut yourself off, and don't burn any bridges with your father. You both have said some very cruel things to each other, but they were said in anger, and I really don't think that Professor Snape meant what he said, anymore than you did, Harry."

"That's where you're wrong Hermione," said Harry icily. "I meant every word that I said--and if I never have to lay my eyes again on my father," he spit the word out distastefully, "I'll die a happy man."

With that Harry stormed out of the Common Room...just wanting to be alone...

----

Harry sat on the ledge of the Astronomy tower, gazing into the midnight sky that was speckled with glittering stars. He briskly rubbed his arms to warm himself; the bitter cold night air penetrated his thin t-shirt. I should have worn a jumper, he thought belatedly. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath of the tangy, crisp air. How did everything go so wrong? I can't believe that I actually thought that Snape would be grateful to me for bringing him back from the Veil. He had been so certain that that was what Snape had wanted; that Snape himself had planned for his return because he had not wanted to die. How could he have misread the signs?

All the work...all the planning had been for naught. How could I have done something so incredibly stupid, he chastised himself. Snape must really think I'm a fool, he thought angrily. I should have known better than to think that Snape would ever consider me anything but a student who he had loathed for the past six years. But...Snape loved my mum, he reasoned--how could he feel nothing for me? How could he just ignore the fact that I'm his flesh and blood--that I'm Lily's son, the woman that he had loved deeply?

Another feeling began to join the resentment--rejection. Harry was used to feeling unwanted--he had spent his whole life feeling like he didn't belong. As if he was on the outside looking in, Harry wished that he could use a time-turner and undo the damage that he had done. Obviously, Snape had not wanted this, and Harry knew that he had made a huge error in judgement by bringing Snape back from the dead.

And he had used Dark Magic....Hermione had warned him of the dangers, but he hadn’t listened. Suddenly, a thrill of fear overtook him; what if Snape was right? What if I turn Dark? What if I can't control this growing anger that I feel is going to explode inside me soon? What is this strange desire that I have to wreak revenge, to hurt Snape like he's hurt me? I've got to stop thinking like this, he thought. No good can come of it. I've got to get on with my life, and think about my future. The school would re-open in a few days, and the students would return. Ginny would return...

Ginny...he hadn't considered her reaction to all this! She had remained with her parents at the Burrow, as they were having a difficult time coming to terms with Fred's death. What would she say when she found out that...not only was Snape Harry's father, but that Harry had used Dark Magic to return him from the Veil! He briefly considered not telling her--after all, it's not like Snape and he would suddenly announce their relationship to the world! Not bloody likely, he thought scathingly. But...as briefly as he entertained this thought, he rejected it. He did not want to start a relationship with Ginny...with lies and secrets. No--he would gather his Gryffindor courage, and tell her the truth. Merlin help him...

---

Severus opened his eyes and looked around the room in confusion; it took him several moments to realise where he was. As Severus cautiously lifted his aching body from the bed, a searing, excruciating pain shot through his head. He clenched his eyes shut for a few seconds. He was hit suddenly with the harsh reality of his situation. He had remembered lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack thinking that it was over...that he could finally rest. The last few months before he had “died”, had been the most difficult of his life. He had felt like he was living someone else's life, as though he was an actor performing a part. An actor playing his final curtain call.

Now Severus must face his future...and make peace with the past. But though Severus had faced many hardships in the past, no matter how often he had faced the Dark Lord with bravery, Severus' stomach was churning wildly at the prospect of deciding his future. He could face what he was familiar with; he had been living on the edge for so long, that the prospect of normalcy seemed foreign to him. How did one cope with quiet and peace, when one was used to chaos and conflict?

He knew that there were many decisions to be made—like what to do with his life; his career to be more precise. Severus was really not inclined to return to teaching, as he had neither the patience nor the talent to impart knowledge on lazy, attention-deficient children who had no desire to learn. No...he would rather be tortured with the Cruciatius Curse, than to endure the likes of Neville Longbottom for even one more term. So what to do? He was a Potions Master, after all; perhaps he could procure a post at St. Mungos, or any of the other prestigious Wizarding Hospitals across Europe. Yes...he could perhaps even flee England altogether, for Germany or Russia, where a Potions Master with his distinguished credentials would be in great demand.

There was the small matter however...that before his unfortunate demise, he had been a wanted fugitive, sought after by every Auror and Ministry official in England, that had not been under the Imperius Curse. So, before he could make any life-changing decisions, he must ascertain his legal status within the Wizarding community. Again, he was faced with the dilemma of how to proceed... Perhaps the best course of action, would be to see if Dumbledore's portrait could enlighten him as to the events leading up to the defeat of the Dark Lord, and whether Severus' innocence had indeed been established since. Yes...a visit to the Headmaster would be first on his agenda.

---

“Severus!” Dumbledore exclaimed in shock. “Harry told me that you were ...gone...murdered by Nagini...I-I-don't understand.” Dumbledore twirled his beard and stared at Severus with dazed eyes.

“Yes...well, it would seem that my son had other ideas.” Severus sneered.

“Harry?” Dumbledore, asked in confusion, “I don't understand...what do you mean?” Dumbledore said with a puzzled expression.

Severus suddenly realised that he had placed himself in an awkward position by insinuating that he had indeed been deceased. Now...he had to decide whether to admit to Dumbledore his shameful, youthful indiscretions. Severus decided that at this point, he had no other choice but to relieve his burdened conscience.

“Albus...” Severus lowered his eyes in shame, and continued in a whisper-like voice... “While in the Dark Lord's service, the Dark Lord insisted that each of his followers create a Horcrux to assure our immortality.” Severus said hesitatingly. He looked up to see the disappointment, and shock in Dumbledore's gaze.

Mercifully, Dumbledore didn't ask Severus the dreaded question, didn't make him elaborate on whose blood was shed to create the Horcrux. Severus could never rid his mind, no matter how skilled an Occlumens he was, of the blood curdling screams of the children... the blood on his hands...Severus desperately attempted to push those horrific images out of his mind, but the Occlumency would only grant him a respite, for a time…

“Potter somehow discovered that not only am I his father, but that I had created a Horcrux. He decided for reasons that I have yet to comprehend, to implement Dark Magic to return me from the dead.” Dumbledore's jaw dropped. “Yes Albus...Harry Potter, Defender of the Light, Defeater of the most evil of Dark Wizards, Saviour of the Wizarding world, dabbled in Dark Magic so that he could be reunited with his estranged father.” Severus' tone dripped with sarcasm.

Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief. “Harry came to see me, as well Severus. He was quite upset with me for not revealing that you were his father. He had gone back into the Pensieve to view your memories, and it was obvious that he felt he had been cheated. Perhaps he was trying to recapture what he felt he had missed.”

Severus looked at Dumbledore, pain mirrored in his obsidian eyes. “Some things cannot be recaptured, Albus. You know that better than anyone,” he said bitterly.

Severus again felt the pang of regret and sorrow rise up from the deepest recesses of his mind. Severus was nothing if not pragmatic though, and years of discipline and conditioning would not allow him to wallow in self-pity. The past could not be changed, and he had accepted long ago that his destiny was to make amends for the sins of his past.

Severus had come to terms long ago, with the reality that the woman he had loved...had loved another...and that the chid that was his...he could not acknowledge. Severus also understood that the man before him was responsible for many of the sacrifices that he had had to make. However, Albus had also given him a precious gift in return...self-respect, and forgiveness...and for that Severus had pledged his undying loyalty to his mentor. Severus had never quite forgiven himself, unfortunately, and the lingering guilt over his part, albeit unintentionally, in Lily's death, would cling to his soul for the rest of his days...

“On to other matters Albus,” Severus said impatiently. “I need to know who is aware of my innocence, that is...other than yourself and Potter”

Dumbledore pondered his answer, and looked at Severus thoughtfully. “The Order members are all aware of course, as are the members of the faculty.” Dumbledore related the events leading up to and including Harry's final battle with Voldemort, and Harry's insistence that Severus had played a key role in his defeat of Voldemort.

Severus was taken aback. Frankly, he had not expected Potter to defend him so heartily after their mutual hatred for the past six years. Even after Albus had revealed their familial relationship, Severus had not relented in his resentment of Potter. This continued display of animosity towards the boy, had been due...partly out of necessity, and partly out of habit. He could not have shown even an ounce of pity for Potter, lest the Dark Lord become suspicious. As well, whether deserved or not, Potter had reminded him of James, both in his appearance and his demeanour.

Severus knew on a certain level that it was not fair to compare Potter to James, as he now knew that James was not Potter's father, however, the heart sometimes overrules logic, and Severus had not been able to readjust his mindset towards the boy. He had consoled his conscience by convincing himself that he had had no recourse but to display outright hostility towards the boy to appease The Dark Lord, and protect Potter.

“While Harry has vouched for your innocence Severus, there are some at the Ministry who are not convinced, and might require further proof. Perhaps agreeing to being interrogated while under the influence of Veritaserum, would sway the Ministry. Harry has already given his testimony, and the memories that you provided Harry with could also substantiate your claim of innocence.”

“There is also the matter of explaining my sudden return from the dead, Albus,” Severus pointed out. “I assume that it is common knowledge that the Dark Lord murdered me through the use of Nagini?” Severus inquired solemnly.

“Yes, when Harry told me, I then informed the remaining members of the Order, some of the faculty, and I had no choice but to alert the Ministry, since they were under the impression that as you were missing...your guilt was implied. But since we hadn't recovered your body as of yet, a story could easily be concocted along the lines of you had not having actually died, but were in a deep coma, and that you were nursed back to health, or something similar.”

Snape looked at the Dumbledore sceptically, but nodded his head in affirmation. “Very well then Albus, I will leave the explanations to the Ministry, and the others, in your capable hands before I make my presence known. After all...I wouldn't want to give anyone a shock when I nonchalantly reappear from the Veil,” Snape said scathingly.

“Yes...perhaps it is best that you keep a low profile until I have alerted all concerned, particularly the Ministry, and smooth the way for your return.” Dumbledore directed a sympathetic look at Severus before saying, “The Ministry may very well arrest you Severus, and ask questions later. Some members of the Wizenmagot, in particular, may not be so inclined to believe your innocence. They have been very reluctant in the past to believe that you were working for me as a spy, and were not a loyal follower of Voldemort. Hopefully since Shacklebolt is now acting as temporary Minister of Magic...he can smooth things over.”

“I realize that Albus; Potter has placed me in a very difficult position with his idiocy,” Severus said angrily.

“Now Severus, I'm sure the boy only had the best intentions at heart,” Dumbledore said, trying to placate the younger man.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions Albus,” Severus sneered, “and I seriously doubt that the boy took a second to think about the insanity of his actions. I am hard pushed to believe that Potter is my son, when every step of the way, he acts before stopping to consider the danger that he is placing himself and everyone else in. He has never had any regard for the rules, and you certainly have not seen fit to control his reckless behaviour, in fact... you have only encouraged it,” Snape said with resentment.”

Dumbledore directed his startlingly blue gaze at Severus and said, “Give the boy a chance Severus; now that Voldemort is no longer a threat, perhaps you can finally take the time to get to know your son,” Dumbledore said soothingly.

“It is too late for that Albus...you have seen to that.” Severus turned an intense gaze at Dumbledore. “Potter and I both, harbour too much resentment and hostility to ever pursue a father and son relationship. There is no turning back Albus,” Snape said bitterly. “By keeping our relationship from us for so long, you have allowed us to foster an intense dislike to each other. That hatred cannot be erased with the sweep of a wand...just because you will it so, Albus,” Snape sneered.

“I am so sorry Severus, that I have placed both you and Harry in such a situation. It was not my intention to hurt either one of you,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I only wanted to protect you, and I truly regret any pain that I have caused you both.”

“As I said before Albus, the past cannot be changed, and I have no desire to revisit this conversation again in the future,” Snape said firmly. “Advise the Ministry, and whomever else you believe should know of my unfortunate return the Veil, and we will deal with the aftermath of this revelation, in whatever fashion we find necessary at that point in time.” Severus twirled around to make his exit, when his heart stopped at the sight before him...

McGonagall stood in the doorway, her pinched face, as white as a blanket of freshly fallen snow. Her dropped jaw and rigid frame, indicated to Severus that she had overheard at least some of their conversation. "Minvera...how long have you been standing there?" Severus asked cautiously.

"Long enough," she answered bluntly.

Severus stood stock still...he stared at Minerva with glazed eyes, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him whole!

“So...Minerva--you overheard that Potter is my-” Snape hesitated. He pressed his fingers against his throbbing temple. This was not happening, he thought mournfully.

“Yes Severus....I did, and I must say that this comes as quite a shock." Indeed, McGonagall's pale face had drained of what little colour she had left.. "Although.... not as much of a shock as seeing you standing here before me...Albus had told us that you were dead!" she whispered. "I don't understand...how can you be Harry's father? What about James? And Harry knows about this? Oh, the poor dear; he must have been devastated".

Severus' head was spinning with her incessant questioning. She rattled on and on in her thick Scottish accent. He couldn't get a word in edgewise. "And what is this nonsense about a Horcrux?” Minerva inquired sternly.

Well so much for hoping that Minerva hadn't heard the whole conversation, Severus thought morosely. “Albus, would you care to do the explanations; I have some work to do if I'm to be prepared for interrogation by the Ministry.” Severus nodded to McGonagall, “Minerva, I ask that you do not reveal the news that I'm Potter's father, nor any other part of the conversation that you have overheard.”

“Of course Severus, but...we do have many matters to discuss when your innocence is established.”

Severus narrowed his eyes and looked at her suspiciously. He wondered what matters she was referring to. He had his suspicions, of course, but if she expected to be able to dissuade him of his plans to leave, in favour of teaching at Hogwarts, then she would be sorely disappointed. He had made up his mind, and when Severus Snape made a decision, he would remain firm in his resolve to adhere to it.

“Goodbye Minerva,” Snape said resolutely.

---

Harry remained at the Astronomy Tower, until exhaustion overcame him. He made his way back to the dorm, and flopped down on his bed. He could hear giggling coming from Ron's bed--the curtains were drawn. Harry shot up suddenly, his face heating up when he realized that Hermione was in Ron's bed. Mortified, he grabbed his pillow and blanket, and went to sleep on the sofa in the Common Room.

Staring at the flames hungrily licking the logs in the fireplace, Harry's mind wandered to thoughts of Ginny. Thinking of Ron and Hermione in Ron's bed, gave Harry a yearning to touch her soft skin, and kiss her tender lips. Tomorrow...he would finally see her.. It felt like a lifetime since he had held her in his arms; and although seeing her at Fred's funeral, would not be the most opportune moment to discuss their future, he couldn't dampen the thrill of excitement at the prospect of seeing her again..

He had been forced to set her free, for her own protection, but now that they were free from the wrath of Voldemort, they could freely declare their love. But would Ginny still want him? She had been devastated when he explained to her that they could not continue to see each other, and a little angry with him that he had taken off to search for Horcruxes.. Although...perhaps the anger was really because she was sick with worry about the danger that Harry, Ron and Hermione were putting themselves into.

Harry desperately hoped that Ginny hadn't decided to cut him loose, because frankly he wasn't quite sure if he could cope with any more heartache after the whole ordeal with Snape. It was going to be hard enough to deal with Fred's funeral, but...the day after was Tonks and Remus' funeral.

Harry just wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to feel anymore.

He felt elated, of course, because he was finally free from the evil monster who had stolen everything and everyone in his life that he had cherished.. He had made many errors in the fight against Voldemort, but he knew that even though letting Ginny go was the most difficult decision that he had ever had to make, it had been the right one. She was safe, and even if she never spoke to him again, Harry could at least revel in the fact that for once, he had taken the time to think about the consequences of his choices, and had not rushed blindly forward, putting others, and himself in danger.

Harry snapped back to reality as he wondered if this numbness that he was experiencing was normal. Voldemort was vanquished--Harry was, for the first time in seventeen years, free to live his life as he chose...and not be guided by circumstances. So why didn't he feel satisfied with the way his life had turned out; maybe there was something wrong with him? Why couldn't he just feel happy, why did he have to overanalyse everything? So what if Snape had rejected him? So what if his own father hated him? It wasn't like he wasn't used to being the target of Snape's ire, after all. So why did Harry feel as though a dagger was being slowly and painfully twisted into his heart, and shattering it to pieces...

Soon classes would resume, and he would be able to focus on his studies, Harry comforted himself. Yes...Harry desperately needed a distraction—to feel that his life had a purpose, and to allow himself to push the more painful memories beneath the surface of his conscious. Occlumency would really come in handy right about now, he thought ironically.

---

Severus disciplined his mind to tame his erratic emotions from erupting out of control. Albus, with McGonagall's help, had arranged a meeting in The Headmaster's office, with the temporary Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and two burley-looking Aurors, to interrogate him and administer the Veritaserum. Severus was immensely relieved that Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been a member of the Order, was now acting as temporary Minister of Magic, since Scrimgeour had died. Seated at Dumbledore's desk, was a court stenographer, who reminded Severus of Rita Skeeter, with her Quick-Quotes Quill poised in mid-air, ready to record the details of the impending interrogation.

“Ah Severus my boy, please have a seat,” greeted Dumbledore cordially. He turned his gaze towards Shacklebolt and the two Aurors. “Why don't we get started Minister, so we can put this matter to rest...once and for all,” Dumbledore's portrait said wearily.

"Yes, of course Albus," Shacklebolt agreed..... He motioned for Severus to sit down. Severus realised that there would be many at the Ministry who would not be as easy as Shacklebolt to convince of his innocence, and that if they had their way...by the end of the day, Severus would be calling a cell in Azkaban, his new home..

"I am certain that Severus' innocence will be firmly established here today...once and for all," Dumbledore said with certainty. Dumbledore directed a pointed glance at the two Aurors, who did not look convinced. "Not only is Severus willingly subjecting himself to interrogation while under the influence of Veritaserum, we also have a Pensieve containing vital memories of myself and Severus, discussing strategic plans concerning Severus' spying duties"

"I am certain that Severus' testimony will be sufficient Albus," Shacklebolt said confidently.

"That may be so Minister, but I would feel more secure, if there were no more room for doubt about Severus' innocence.."

"Of course Albus," Shacklebolt agreed. "Let us proceed then." He then retrieved a phial from his robe pocket.

The tall, dark man uncorked the phial containing the clear liquid. He glanced at Severus apologetically, and proceeded to pour two drops of the Serum on Severus' tongue. Severus was enormously grateful that he had mastered the art of Occlumency so proficiently, because he could barely restrain himself from flinching when Shacklebolt moved towards him with the offending potion. The scene evoked painful memories for Severus...memories of a similar scene following Lily's death, where Severus' innocence had been also questioned. Severus had been so wracked with pain and guilt, that he had thought that he might willingly offer his soul to a Dementor...to end the agony of a world without Lily.

Severus felt his tongue loosen, and he swallowed his rising panic. He abhorred the feeling of not being in complete control of his emotions, but knew that it was pointless to fight against the potion's effects, and now, his deepest thoughts would be plain for all to see; his life would be an open book...

Shacklebolt began with simple questions. "What is your name? How old are you?" But then...the questions grew progressively more purposeful. "Were you ever a faithful follower of You Know Who? Is it true that you were a spy for the Light?" Shacklebolt pumped out the questions in staccato fashion, until the effects of the serum began to diminish, and Severus slowly regained complete control of his faculties. Finally, Shacklebolt ended the questioning, and proceeded to enter the Pensieve, to view Snape's memories...

---

When Shacklebolt exited the Pensieve, he looked as though it took considerable effort not to be ill. There were some very unpleasant, to put it mildly, memories of Voldemort's illicit activities, in which Snape had not participated directly but had provided valuable information to Dumbledore. In all the years that Shacklebolt had been an Auror, he had never hardened his heart to the pain and suffering he had witnessed.

"Well... Severus, I think that all is in order here. I am quite confident, that with Mr. Potter's affidavit swearing your loyalty, as well as the testimony witnessed here, that you will be cleared of all charges... I must, of course present the evidence to the Wizengamot, but I don't forsee any contest to my testimony. You will be owled official documentation shortly, validating your innocence." Shacklebolt turned to direct his gaze at Dumbledore's portrait. "I will be speaking with you soon Albus," Shacklebolt said as he stepped towards the Floo. The Aurors and the Court Stenographer proceeded to follow suit, but before grabbing a handful of Floo powder, Shacklebolt directed a knowing look at Snape, and said, "We'll be in touch." He then entered the fireplace with the others. With a hiss of a crackling log, and the lick of flames, they were swept up the Floo.

"That went rather smoothly, don't you think Severus?" Albus asked happily.

Severus threw Albus a filthy look, "Yes Albus, there is nothing more I would rather be doing than having someone administer a foul tasting potion, rip my mind apart and expose my deepest thoughts and feelings for all the world to view. Because of course, you know what a demonstrative person I am," Severus said sarcastically. He turned towards the door, and said over his shoulder, "It has been a pleasure Headmaster, but I think that I'll retire to my quarters and contemplate my future. Good evening Albus." As Severus exited the office, he was waylaid instantly by Minerva. His heart sank...Severus was definitely not in the frame of mind to deal with this.......not after the humiliation he’d just been subjected to.

"Severus, I was wondering if I could have brief word with you," Minerva appealed to him.

"I'm rather tired Minerva. This whole ordeal has been rather taxing. Perhaps another time." Severus attempted to pass by her, but she blocked his path, and put her hand on his chest to stop his movement.

"Severus, I realise that you have been through a lot, but it is imperative that I speak with you," she pleaded.....

"Very well...but please make it brief," Severus reluctantly conceded.

"Of course, Severus. Let's go to my office then."

They made their way to Minerva's office and she motioned for him to have a seat.

"I don't know if you're aware Severus, but the school will reopen in a few days. I am left with a dilemma however... Several professors have opted to leave, including Horace. I tried to persuade him to remain, but he was adamant that he had informed Albus that he would only remain for a year, and after the final battle, he was weary and wished to retire. So I was wondering if you would agree to teach both Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, at least until I find a replacement for Horace. As well....” She looked at him hesitatingly “...I need a Deputy Headmaster, and there is no other professor who has the qualifications. As Head of House, and having been a Headmaster yourself, albeit for only a brief period of time, you are the most obvious choice."

Severus' jaw dropped. Not only did she expect him to return to teach his former post of Potions, and well as Defence, she wanted him to take on even more responsibilities? Severus shook his head firmly. "No Minerva, I do not wish to return to teaching, and I have made other plans."

McGonagall's expression hardened. "I am quite sure that you are under contract for at least the next five years Severus. I do believe that you owe it to your Slytherins, as well, not to abandon them. Not to mention your obligations to Harry." She looked at him sternly. "You have shirked your duties to him for the past two years Severus. You have tormented the poor boy mercilessly; it is about time that you made it up to him. Where would we all be if it weren't for him? You would be six feet under, and the rest of us would be under the control of an evil megalomaniac. No Severus...I will not allow you to inflict anymore pain on that boy. He needs someone. He is all alone now that his relatives have gone. They were re-located...for their own protection, because on Harry's seventeenth birthday, the blood wards would fall. Not that they were fit guardians anyway," she said disgustingly. Minerva had always had her suspicions about the Dursleys’ treatment of Harry, and had pleaded with Albus on many occasions to remove the boy from their care. But Albus had remained firm in his resolve to keep Harry there, on the premise that he needed the blood wards to keep him safe.

Severus looked at her strangely at this statement about his son's guardians. He--as well, had had some suspicions about their treatment of Potter, after viewing his memories during Occlumency lessons, but he had been too bitter and furious at Potter for having invaded his memories...to question it.

"He has no home Severus. He is only seventeen. He still needs guidance. Albus is but a portrait…Sirius and Remus are dead. Who else does he have?"

"I am far from a suitable father Minerva, and I have no interest in playing daddy to Harry Potter," Severus said disgustedly, taking no time to consider her words.

Severus felt warm, and he began to experience a suffocating feeling of being on unfamiliar territory. It was absurd. He just could not imagine himself as a father. Even after Albus had informed him, Severus was able to continue pretending that their genetic relationship didn't exist.. After all...the news didn't really change anything.......did it? Severus still had to act as though Potter was an enemy to him. After five years of loathing the boy, it was not a difficult feat. As time passed...Severus had managed to push the knowledge completely to the back of his mind.

Eventually, Severus had convinced himself that Albus had been wrong, and that the brat really was Potter's son, after all. It did not matter that Albus had provided proof of paternity, by way of a blood test administered to both Harry and Severus, without their knowledge. Albus knew that one day, he would need the evidence, because he knew that Severus was a very stubborn man, and would refuse to see the truth. Albus had, of course, hoped that the day would never come that he would have to reveal their familial relationship. It really didn't fit in with his plans, but he needed the proof, just in case...

"Severus!" Minerva admonished firmly. "He is your son!"

"I refuse to discuss my private business with you Minvera. The discussion is closed." Severus said in a steely voice. "You leave me no choice to return to my former position as Professor. I will agree to teach both Potions and Defence against the Dark Arts for the time being, until you find a suitable replacement. But as far as being Deputy Headmaster...I have no interest in-"

McGonagall interrupted, "You will have more authority Severus, and, as well--an increase in salary. There is some minimal paperwork that I need your help with, but other than that, your duties will not be substantially increased. As well...I am quite sure that the appointment of the position will serve to inspire confidence of our faith in your loyalty and innocence, within the wizarding community."

She should have been in Slytherin, Severus thought disdainfully. She had manipulated him quite thoroughly, he realised with panic. "Very well Minerva, I will agree to all your terms. However...you will agree to keep out of my private affairs. As well, you will find a replacement for the Potions position. I doubt that I will have the time to continue teaching both subjects, continue with my duties as Head of House, and assume the responsibilities attached to being Deputy Headmaster."

"Of course Severus.....as I said though, the position is mostly as figurehead, and does not require a lot of extra work. I do appreciate the help though, as I am rather exhausted from all the work that was required to repair the extensive damage to the Castle. Take the next couple of days to rest Severus, and we will discuss further, your new responsibilities...at a later date."

Severus lifted himself up wearily from the sofa. "Goodbye Minerva, we will speak soon," he said with a curt nod of farewell.

Upon departing Minerva's office, Severus couldn't help wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. All his well-thought out plans for the future had just been discarded like rubbish. Furthermore, Severus had a sickening feeling that Minerva had not exhausted her efforts to reunite him with his estranged son...

Severus was quite right about Minerva's intentions, and if he had had an inkling of the lengths to which she would go to reunite father and son, he would have packed his baggage and left...never to return. Minerva had decided that, as Harry and Severus’ situation was entirely Albus’doing, a nice long chat with him was in order. She made her way up to his office, determination motivating her brisk pace.

“Ah…Minerva, you've decided to pay a visit to a lonely old man, have you?” Dumbledore inquired happily. It was rather lonesome as a portrait, with the only interaction, being other deceased Headmasters, who, in Albus’ opinion, were rather stodgy and irritable. They had not taken to death with quite the same panache that he had, after all.

“This is not a social call,” she replied coldly.

Albus was taken aback...he had not expected her less-than-cordial greeting. “Minerva, whatever is the matter?” he asked anxiously.

“I’ll tell you what the matter is, Albus. Severus and Harry’s situation,” she replied icily. “Your meddling has caused them both an enormous amount of grief, and it’s up to you to make it right.” Minerva said firmly.

“Severus has told me in no uncertain terms that he will not tolerate any further interference in his private affairs, Minerva,” Albus said with a pained expression. “I rather doubt that he will consider any advice that I may offer at this point,” Dumbledore said sadly.

“Then you must make him listen Albus, mustn’t you?” Minerva insisted stubbornly. “It's imperative that you convince him to seek a relationship with Harry. That boy deserves to have a family. You ignored my advice about his relatives when Lily and James died, but I will not allow you to do so again. You have continuously sacrificed that boy’s happiness for the greater good Albus...but no more. I will not allow you to. You owe them both an enormous debt of gratitude, and it’s time that you paid them back,” she insisted.

"I'll do what I can Minerva, but I'm making no promises," Dumbledore said hesitantly. "Severus is an extremely stubborn man. I'm not sure that it will be that easy to convince him that he needs a son in his life. As for Harry...well, he's very displeased with me at the moment." Dumbledore felt a stab of pain at the thought that he had alienated two of the most important people in his life, when all he had meant to do was protect them. Yes...perhaps he had been too consumed...too blinded by the intense desire to win the battle against Voldemort. He had somehow lost sight of what was important; that Severus and Harry were not simply warriors, nor soldiers, but human beings, with feelings and desires. Just when he had forgotten that, he didn't know, but Minerva was right...somehow Albus had to make it up to both of them.

"You have never failed to convince others to do your bidding Albus, and I don't expect you to fail in this," she said determinedly. "Good day." With that thought she left a thoroughly ashamed Dumbledore. Minerva hoped that her little guilt-trip had had the desired effect.

Of course Minerva realized that, as Albus' mobility was limited to his picture frame, that she would still be required to assume most of the responsibility in bringing Harry and Severus together, but Minerva had a plan. When Severus had reluctantly agreed to her demands, Minvera had checked off the first item on her list. Yes...her plan would come to fruition, of that she had no doubt. Minerva may have prided herself on being a noble Gryffindor, but there was most definitely some Slytherin blood coursing through her veins!

Although Minerva felt that she had made some progress in assuring that Harry and Severus would be forced to interact more frequently, she also knew that she had barely made a dent in the wall that separated them.

----

Severus thought about the conversation that he had had with Minerva. He wasn't quite sure he understood her motivation in wanting him to pursue a relationship with Potter. He had never thought that she had held him in high regard at all--just the contrary... he had always been under the impression that she had severely disapproved of him. Of course, his servitude to the Dark Lord, and his fascination with Dark Magic, had not endeared him to many, he was sure. Why then was Minerva so bloody determined to pressure him into a relationship with his son...when he had made it clear that he had not desired one.

Well...Minerva would be sorely disappointed when her plan failed, Severus thought maliciously. Severus felt a pang of...well, he wasn't quite sure what. Regret? Guilt? A pair of emerald green eyes came to mind, and he tried to dampen the shame that threatened to rise to the surface. Severus tried to quell the voice in his head that said Lily would be disappointed in him for making this choice...that Lily would want him to know his son. But I can't Lily...I don't know how...

----

Hermione and Ron had left for the Burrow last night to lend support to Ron's parents and to help them prepare for the funeral. The plan was for Harry to join them today, and he felt rather guilty that his first thought was how wonderful it would be to see Ginny again, though it was such a solemn occasion. As he grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, Harry's stomach fluttered with anticipation.

Harry was almost knocked over by Mrs. Weasley's plump figure as she threw her arms around his slender shoulders, and began sobbing. Harry looked helplessly over his shoulder at Mr. Weasley. "I'm so sorry about Fred, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly. She continued to cry for several minutes, and then retrieved a hanky from her pocket, and began dabbing at her red, puffy eyes.

"He would be so proud of you Harry. He always considered you part of the family," she said, sniffling. She composed herself, and straightened her robes, although it was obvious that her control was hanging by a thread. "Would you like a tea, Dear?" she asked.

"Uh...yes please." Harry sat down at the large table, and Mr. Weasley did likewise. "Where are Ron, Hermione and Ginny, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked casually, not really caring where the other two were.

"Ron and Ginny are out in the garden, setting up chairs for the ceremony," he whispered, turning his head to peek a quick look at Mrs. Weasley, who was absentmindedly pouring boiling water into the china tea-pot. "They should be in shortly. I'm not sure where Hermione is." Mrs Weasley poured some tea into Harry's cup with shaking hands. Mr. Weasley shot her a worried look, and turned back to Harry.

"Oh...alright," Harry said quickly. He couldn't still his rapidly beating heart, and somersaulting stomach. Harry had not been able to stop thinking about Ginny all night, and thought that he would lose control, if he didn't see her soon. Harry sipped his tea quickly, and rose from the table intending on going out to the garden to pry Ginny away from Ron, so that he could speak with her privately.

Suddenly...voices filtered in from the hallway. Harry twirled around and his heart skipped a beat...there standing in the doorway, looking like an angel...was Ginny. Ron looked between the two of them, and understood instantly.

With a wide grin, Ron asked, "Hey mate, wanna come help us in the garden?" He winked slyly at Harry, and Harry blushed. Harry nodded, and followed the two outside. Ron made an excuse to go see Hermione, who was upstairs speaking with Fleur, Bill's wife.

Harry and Ginny looked shyly at one another...

Ginny was the first to speak. "You were so brave Harry; I can't believe that you've defeated Voldemort." Ginny could feel the pride swell up within her, and her breath caught in her throat. It seemed forever that she had first laid eyes on him...she had been only ten years old, when she had first seen him standing there on Platform 9 and 3/4. Even then...she knew that she had loved him. Perhaps it had been a child-like adoration...a crush, but nevertheless, her heart had been captured the moment that she had stared into the depth of those emerald eyes. She had thought that he looked adorable with his messy black hair, and now...his hair was still messy, and she wanted desperately to run her fingers through it, and his eyes were still endless pools of jade, and she wanted to stare into them forever...

Harry had always been different from the other boys at Hogwarts; he was more mature, and incredibly humble. He was special...and he didn't even know it! He may not have been as tall, nor as well-built as the others. As a matter of fact...he was rather short, and finely built, but the other boys couldn't hold a candle to Harry, and Ginny was determined that she would never let him go again.

Harry wasn't quite sure who had made the first move, but before he knew it, they were in each others’ arms. He was running his fingers through her long silky red hair, which looked like it had flecks of spun gold woven into it, where the sun fell. As soon as their lips touched, the painful events of the past couple of days began to fade away.

They reluctantly pulled apart, and Harry couldn't help but stare at her. She looked so beautiful, with her face gently flushed, and her pale skin lightly sprinkled with freckles. Harry knew that he really shouldn't put off telling her the events of the past few days, but he was reluctant to spoil the moment.

Stop being such a coward, he admonished himself firmly. I've defeated the most evil wizard of all time, yet I can't tell Ginny that Snape is my father, and that I used Dark Magic, to bring him back from the Veil. On second thought...maybe facing Voldemort was the lesser of two evils! But Harry knew that Ginny would be so disappointed in him, and that thought alone gave him a pang of regret for his rash behaviour. Harry drew in a deep breath and braced himself for the worst.

"Ginny...I need to tell you something," Harry said hesitantly. Ginny looked at him expectantly, and Harry was once again overcome with indecision and anxiety. “We need to talk…privately,” he whispered.

"It sounds serious Harry," she said concernedly. "Let's go sit somewhere quiet, where we won't be disturbed." She took his hand, and led him out to a secluded, wooded area on the property. Harry erected a privacy spell, just in case. This was most definitely not a conversation he wished to share with anyone else. They sat beneath a tall oak tree, and there was an awkward silence as Harry attempted to search for the right words.

"Ginny," he began, "what I'm about to tell you, is going to come as quite a shock, but...I wanted to be completely honest with you," Harry said slowly. Ginny leaned in a little closer, and gently cupped the side of his face.

"I appreciate that Harry, and I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. We've been through too much...to let anything more get in the way," Ginny said seriously, looking deeply into his eyes.

"This is not something minor Ginny, this is-" Harry felt as though he was choking on his words. "You might not think of me the same way after this Ginny," he said worriedly.

"Harry...please tell me," she pleaded. "I care about you. Nothing will change that," she said sincerely.

If only that were true, Harry thought bitterly. "You remember when I told you that Snape gave me his memories...just before he died?" Ginny nodded her head. "Well...I decided to go back into the Pensieve one more time. I...just really wanted to see my mum," he said sadly.

"That's normal Harry. You never got a chance to know her,”Ginny said gently, lacing her fingers through his.

"Yes...but I discovered that there were a second set of memories. I guess I was too much in shock the first time, after just having overheard Dumbledore planning his own death," Harry said acidly.

"More memories? What kind of memories?" Ginny asked curiously.

"My mum and Snape were older, they were in seventh year, and her and Snape seemed to be...uh, more than just friends," Harry said delicately.

Ginny's jaw dropped and she stared at Harry in shock. You haven't heard the worst, Harry thought ironically.

"You mean your mom, and Snape...dated?" she asked incredulously.

Oh Merlin...this was going to be harder than he thought! "They didn't just...date Ginny. They were...uh... lovers," Harry stated bluntly.

"Oh!" she mouthed.

Oh hell! I might as well get it over with, he thought. "Snape is my father, Ginny," Harry said quickly.

"Wh-a-t!" she sputtered. The colour slowly drained from her face, and she shook her head. "No! Harry, you must be mistaken. I mean...Snape? Are you sure?" She asked in horror.

"Yes Ginny, believe me, I'm quite sure," Harry said with a firm nod. "There were also memories in the Pensieve...of Dumbledore telling Snape that he was my father. Dumbledore told Snape when I was in my fifth year."

"In your fifth year? But, why didn't Dumbledore or Snape tell you? Why did Snape continue to be so cruel to you?” Her eyes flashed angrily.

"Dumbledore claims that it was too dangerous for me to know, because Snape was still a spy. He had to pretend that he still hated me. He pretended too well, if you ask me," Harry said caustically.

"Oh Harry! I'm so sorry," Ginny said soothingly. You deserved to have a family, and they took it away from you. It just isn't fair,” she added angrily. “And Dumbledore? How long had he known?" She asked suspiciously.

“Since my mom was pregnant.”

“What!” Ginny said indignantly. “What was Professor Dumbledore playing at? Why would he keep you and Snape in the dark for so long? I just don't understand,” Ginny said, bewildered.

“He didn’t think that Snape was ready to be a father.” He was certainly right on that score, Harry thought bitterly. “My mum had just died, and apparently Snape was consumed with grief, and Dumbledore wasn’t really sure if Snape was still loyal to Voldemort,” Harry explained.

“I understand why Dumbledore didn’t tell Snape right away, but why wait till your fifth year to inform him, and then neither one of them saw fit to tell you…I mean, what was the point?” Ginny demanded, outraged.

“None of it makes sense Ginny,” Harry said with a small shake of his head. “Dumbledore always kept from me though, didn’t he?” Harry couldn’t help thinking of fifth year, and again he couldn’t help thinking that as much as Snape had played a part in Sirius’ death, as much as he himself had acted impulsively, that it all could have been avoided, had Dumbledore just told him the bloody truth about the prophecy. Once again, a wave of bitterness and anger towards Dumbledore washed over him.

Ginny was livid towards Dumbledore and Snape. How dare they play with Harry’s feelings in such a way? Harry deserved better than to be treated like a pawn in a chess game. Harry had grown up without a proper family, when, all the while...his own father was alive--and ignorant ofhis existence. She clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. She was inclined to give Dumbledore’s portrait a piece of her mind, and she was just angry enough to give even Snape a proper dressing down…if he had been still alive, that is.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. Ginny looked beautiful when she was angry, he thought affectionately. One thing he had always admired about Ginny was how proud and fiercely protective she was over those she cared about. Harry reveled in the warmth that spread through him at the thought that she had put him in that category. His warm glow was short-lived however, when he realized that the news he was about to impart to Ginny, could very well cost him her affections. He set his jaw, and gathered up his courage.

“Ginny,” he interrupted her tirade, “there’s more.” Harry lowered his eyes…he couldn’t bear to see her disappointment in him.

Ginny halted, mid-rant, and her eyes widened as she stared at Harry. “More? More than your mum and Snape being a couple? More than you being Snape’s son?” She asked incredulously.

“Yes Ginny,” he whispered, "a lot more. After looking in the Pensieve, and after confronting Dumbledore about the whole thing, I was really mixed up. I was sad because James wasn’t really my father, but at the same time, I felt like I had been cheated out of knowing my real father. I know that it was crazy, because it was Snapeof all people, but I knew that he had loved my mum, and he died still loving her. I was furious at Dumbledore, because I felt like I didn't know who I was anymore, and it seemed to me that I wasn't the only one whose life had been turned upside down. Dumbledore had manipulated Snape too. I just thought that Snape had lost everything as well."

"But weren't you angry with Snape for treating you so badly Harry? Even after he knew that you were his son?" Ginny asked, still ticked off with the man.

"Yeah...I guess a part of me was, but Dumbledore didn't give him much choice, did he? I mean...he waited until Snape was a spy, until he was so involved in Voldemort's circle, that he would have been risking his life, and mine, had he acknowledged me. No...I don't blame Snape for that, at least. Dumbledore said that he had lied to protect us both, but I think that it all just fit in with his plans," Harry said resentfully.

"I'm so sorry Harry. It's just not fair that not only did you lose your Mum and James, but then you lost Snape too," Ginny said sympathetically.

Harry looked up at Ginny and said quietly, "that's just the thing Ginny, I did lose him...but I got him back. A lot of good that did me though," he said quietly.

Ginny gave Harry a strange look. "Harry, what on earth are you talking about? What do you mean that you got him back?" She asked worriedly. Ginny was beginning to think that maybe Harry was finally beginning to break down after all he had been through the past few years. After all...he had had a part of Voldemort's soul embedded in him; it must have taken its toll on Harry!

"I went to Snape's office after I found out that he was my father. I just kind of felt this need to know who I was...to find out more about Snape...the man, not the greasy git who's been a right bastard to me all these years. I just wanted to know what my Mum had seen in him; that maybe there was more to him than met the eye. I thought maybe there would be some letters, or even some photographs. Oh...I don't actually know what I was thinking Gin...I was just so confused," Harry said sadly. "I didn't find anything to do with my Mum, but I did find...something else," Harry said slowly.

"What do you mean Harry?" Ginny asked concernedly. Harry remained quiet. "Harry?" Ginny prodded. "Harry you are really starting to worry me. What on earth did you find?"

"I found a book, Gin. A book just like Riddle's diary."

Ginny paled and looked at him in shock. "You don't mean that the book was a Horcrux?" she asked, horrified. Harry nodded. "But...I thought that you had destroyed all of Voldemort's Horcruxes?" she asked in panic.

"I did ...but the Horcrux wasn't Riddle's. It was Snape's," Harry finally blurted out.

"Snape's?" Ginny asked disbelievingly. "But, how? Why? I don't understand." The blood rushed to her head, and she felt lightheaded. What on earth was Harry going on about? This conversation is just getting more and more bizarre, she thought anxiously.

"Yes Ginny...Snape created a Horcrux out of the Potions book that I used last year. I can't believe that all during sixth year, I was carrying a damned Horcrux around with me. No wonder I felt as if I was going out of my bloody mind." That realization only struck Harry...as the words left his mouth.

"Oh Merlin! I can't believe it!" Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "This is all just too strange!"

"You don't know the half of it Ginny," Harry said cynically.

She looked at him in alarm. "You mean there's more, Harry? Oh Dear! Ginny blanched.

"Yes Ginny there is. I used Snape's Horcrux to bring back him back from the Veil..."

Ginny stared at Harry in shock. "I must have misunderstood you Harry," she said in a daze. "I thought that you just said that you used Snape's Horcrux to bring him back from the Veil." Ginny's head was spinning. This couldn't be possible. Of all the crazy, reckless things that Harry had done over the years, this had got to be the most insanely wild idea that he had ever had.

"No Ginny, you didn't misunderstand me," Harry said quietly. Harry lowered his eyes. "I know that it was a crazy thing to do, and Snape's not even happy about it," Harry rambled on nervously, "as a matter of fact... he was furious with me for using Dark Magic, and he says he wants nothing to do with me, and -"

"Harry, stop!" Ginny interuppted. "Just back up a bit," she said breathlessly. "You're actually saying that Snape was dead, and now he-he's alive? And, you used Dark Magic to do it?" Ginny asked incredulously. "But wasn't that dangerous, Harry? I mean, Merlin knows what would have happened if something had gone wrong. What reason could you have possibly had to do this Harry? It was an incredibily foolish thing to do, dabbling in Dark Magic," She lectured him sternly.

"Yeah, I guess it was kind of a risky thing to do." Harry flushed slightly with shame. Harry realised with pleasure and relief that Ginny's reaction was one of concern rather than anger. A gentle breeze blew a few strands of her silky locks across her face, and Harry brushed them gently away. Again, desire overwhelmed him, and it took an enormous amount of self control to dampen his amourous inclinations. It's Fred's funeral, a little voice in his head told him firmly.

Ginny, on the other hand, seemed unaware of Harry's inner battle to tame his desires. She brought him firmly back to reality. "So, can we backtrack a bit here Harry? Whatever could have motivated you to bring Snape back from the dead?"

"Well...after I found out that Dumbledore kept all these secrets from me, I was really furious with him. It ocurred to me that Snape had just as much reason to be angry with Dumbledore, as I had. He had used us and kept us both in the dark until it was convenient for him. Think about it Ginny...if I hadn't gone back into the Pensieve, I still wouldn't even know that Snape is my father, and he only told Snape when I was in my fifth year," Harry fumed. Harry's anger towards Dumbledore had abated somewhat, however, since Snape's tirade towards Harry's ill-advised plan to return Snape from the Veil.

Harry always knew that his father had a volatile tempter, and was not the most reasonable person in the world, but Harry had never envisioned such a violent reaction from the man. In retrospect, Harry thought that he should have realised that Snape would not be pleased with Harry's interferance. After all...even if Harry had been grateful for Snape's guidance in defeating Voldemort, and felt a connection with Snape because of their mutual love for his mum, that didn't mean that the man would reciprocate his feelings of gratitude. Harry was quite embarrassed that he had deluded himself into believing that Snape would suddenly be anything other than the same miserable git that he had been for the past six years. Perhaps Dumbledore's actions in hiding the truth from both him and Snape were not so inexcusable after all.

Ginny was beginning to feel as though her brain was overloaded. "Harry, you mentioned that Snape wasn't too pleased with what you'd done; using Dark Magic. I mean...I can understand his point about that. You just don't know what the long-term consequences would be Harry." Ginny directed a stern glare at Harry.

Harry lowered his eyes. "Yeah, that's what Snape said too," he admitted reluctantly. Harry felt a wave of shame; it was more difficult than he had anticipated, to admit his error in judgement to the woman he loved. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, and played nervously with a blade of grass. Harry dredged up every ounce of courage that he possessed and continued... "Snape was quite furious with me for using Dark Magic because he said that my soul could have been tainted, and that I could turn Dark. He said that I took an enormous risk."

Harry's heart was heavy as he continued, and he felt his eyes moisten as he again remembered the humiliation and shame he had felt at Snape's cruel words. "It was all for nothing Ginny...he wants nothing to do with me,” he said sadly. “It was all a stupid dream, and for what?" Harry said, angry with himself. " He accused me of bringing him back because I wanted a happy family reunion." Harry's cheeks burned in humiliation at Snape's mocking words ."He basically said that I had no business in bringing him back from the Veil, and that I only brought him back because I was stupid enough to believe that he'd want a father and son relationship with me," Harry finished in a small voice.

Ginny looked at Harry incredulously. "He actually said that to you? And what do you mean that he wants nothing to do with you?" she asked indignantly. "Snape should have been esctatic that you brought him back from the Veil...that you gave him another chance," Ginny said furiously on Harry's behalf. Ginny leaned forward and wrapped her arms gently around his shoulders. How dare that man hurt Harry again! After all that he had been through already, she fumed inwardly. After all that Harry had accomplished, he deserves some happiness, Ginny thought heatedly.

A warm glow began to melt the ice that had surrounded Harry's wounded heart, and Harry finally gave into temptation. He pulled Ginny close to him, his lips seeking hers in desperation. Embraced in a passionate kiss, Ginny and Harry lost all concept of time, until they heard their names called from a distance. They looked at each other in frustration, and rose to their feet, straightening their robes hastily. Harry cancelled the privacy spell, and they reluctantly made their way back up to the house. Harry and Ginny's hands were tightly clasped together, as if both of them were seeking an anchor to stabilize themselves for the ordeal ahead...

The next few days passed in a blur for Harry. Fred’s, Remus’ and Tonk's funerals had been predictably difficult, but having Ginny by his side throughout the traumatic events, gave him the strength and courage to trudge onward. Harry realised forlornly that things were not about to get any easier either, as today the school was reopening, and he would have to face Snape again. He had somehow managed to avoid the man during the past few days, but now that classes were about to begin, that luxury would end.

Harry was again reminded of just how alone in the world he was. If not for Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Harry wasn't quite sure that he would be able to hold it together. That feeling of being alone in the desert without water, returned and Harry tried to keep the image of Ginny fresh in his mind to spur him on. He donned his school robes and went to meet the Hogwarts Express. Ron and Hermione had stayed behind at the Burrow after the funeral and decided to all take the train together. Harry, of course had been invited to stay, but he had declined as he knew that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had a full house already, and needed their privacy right now.

In all honesty, Harry needed some space right now to deal with his own problems, and frankly the solemn atmosphere of the Burrow, was too oppressive for him to handle. The only drawback of remaining at the castle, was the constant effort of avoiding Snape. Harry was not looking forward to having to see Snape in class. Harry wasn't quite sure how Snape would behave either. Oh...he knew that the man would be detestable to him;that was one constant he could rely upon, but the nature of that taunting was what had Harry worried. Harry was just grateful that only a handful of people knew of his relationship with Snape.

Of course Harry had been relieved when he had seen in the Daily Prophet that Snape had been cleared of all charges. No matter how livid he was with the man, he would not have wished for Snape to be still thought of as a murderer and traitor. Whether Snape appreciated Harry's gratitude or not, the fact remained that Harry would not have been able to defeat Voldemort without Snape's help. If Harry were truthful with himself, he would admit that despite Snape's anger, he still did not regret what he had done. His only regret was having been so naive in thinking that Snape would actually look upon him as a son, and be grateful for returning him from the Veil.

----

Severus woke up the next morning feeling as though a wild herd of hippogriffs had trampled over his head. Severus was quite unaccustomed to this physical reaction, to what would be referred to, if it were anyone else, as nerves. The fluttering in the pit of his stomach, the sweaty palms, and the rapidly beating heart, were foreign to the usually stoic Severus Snape. He had never thought that he could be so intimidated by mere children, but the thought of facing those dunderheads again, was making the unflappable Severus Snape quake in his black boots. Not because he feared them, per se, but because he knew that there were those whose parents were on the side of the light, who would still question his loyalty, regardless that he had been exonerated from all guilt by the Ministry. Students from his own house, would be well-divided as well. There would be those students whose friends and loved-ones had perished in the battle, and would be quick to blame Severus for his betrayal. Of course, there were those Slytherins whose parents had been enslaved and manipulated by the Dark Lord, and had been just as relieved as those on the side of the light, when he had been defeated.

Severus was certain that Draco at least had learned a valuable lesson from this whole ordeal, and if at least one of his Slytherins were saved from a Dark future, then all this pain and suffering had been well worth it. From what Dumbledore had explained to Severus, Naricissa had been instrumental in assuring the Dark Lord's downfall. It was due to her subterfuge that Potter had been able to fool the Dark Lord into thinking that he had successfully murdered him, thus enabling Potter to have the benefit of surprise when he suddenly returned from the dead to face the Dark Lord, in their last duel to the death. Potter had spoken on her behalf to the Ministry, and she had been granted leniency due to her betrayal of the Dark Lord. She had escaped the fate of her husband, who had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban, which in actuality was rather a mild sentence, considering how deep his involvement in the Dark Lord's circle had been. Knowing how soft Potter is, he probably pleaded for leniency on Lucius' behalf as well, Severus thought acidly.

There was no escaping the reality that managing his Slytherins would not be an easy feat either. There would be a battle of loyalties, within his own house as well, of that he was sure. It would take much discipline and patience to reunite his house, and Severus would have to change his own past behaviour to ensure that. Severus no longer gave a fig about loss of house points, or incurring favour with the children of Death Eaters to please the Dark Lord. No, Severus was going to have to find a delicate balance between disciplinarian, and mentor with his Slytherins. Having allowed them much license to do as they pleased in the past, it would be quite a shock for them when Severus put his foot down and no longer allowed them to run wild. He would, of course, make it be known that he was there for them, and he would fight tooth and nail to assure that they were not discriminated against by the other Houses, due simply to their House affiliation, but gone were the days where he would show them favour in class.

Yes, it would be quite a rude awakening for his Slytherins, when he actually deducted House points from them for the first time. On second thought...perhaps there were other ways to punish them without taking points from Slytherin. Well...maybe showing a little favour towards my Slytherins wouldn't hurt, he justified to himself.

Severus donned his long black teaching robes, and reluctantly made his way to the Great Hall. He felt as though he was on his way to the gallows.

---

As Harry entered the Great Hall, the buzz of conversation around him, ceased and all eyes were pinned on him. He hadn't considered the general reaction of the student body to his presence. He had been too consumed with his own feelings of inadequacy and shame concerning Snape to give a thought to what life after Voldemort would be like. Ginny, whose hand Harry had been holding, squeezed his as a show of support, and the two sat beside Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Harry's first impression upon entering the Great Hall, had been that the tables were smaller, and there were fewer students. The most remarkable difference however was the atmosphere at the Slytherin table. Draco was sitting alone looking apathetic and uncomfortable, and the rest of the Sytherins were divided into groups. There were some who awarded Harry with an appreciative smile, and others who glared at him spitefully. Harry felt shivers down his spine, when he realized that they looked as though they wanted to murder him. He hadn't stopped to consider that maybe life after Voldemort's defeat wouldn't be so peaceful, after all.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of Snape entering the Great Hall with a sweep of his black robes. He really does look like a giant bat, Harry thought maliciously. Their eyes locked and Harry couldn't help shuddering as the cold obsidian eyes bore into his. How could I have ever imagined this man to be capable of human emotion? Harry thought bitterly. He had been certain that Snape's behaviour during the past two years had been an act. Harry had fooled himself into believing that once Snape had discovered that he was Harry's father that he had only reluctantly continued to be a complete git towards him. Harry had been so certain that because Snape had been so deeply in love with his mum, that he would have been overjoyed to have discovered that their union had produced a child, even if that child was Harry. Harry pulled his eyes away from that hurtful stare, and spent the rest of the meal attempting to absorb the conversation around him.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged worried glances, and attempted to draw Harry into the conversation. Eventually they gave up their futile attempts. Hermione's heart was heavy with guilt. She had agreed to this whole scheme because Harry had seemed so certain that Snape would have wanted to return from the Veil, and that is why he had created the Horcrux to begin with. Hermione had also suspected at the time, that Harry had been feeling vulnerable and lonely, and although he would never have admitted it, he had been hoping that Snape would be able to provide him with the family that Harry had always been denied growing up. She knew that Harry had always kept his feelings close to his heart; ironically he shared this trait with his father.

While Harry had never outright admitted to having been abused or neglected by the Dursleys, Hermione knew of at least one incident where Harry's uncle had starved him, and put bars on his window. Harry had never seemed anxious to return home for the holidays, like the majority of the other students, and very rarely spoke of his life away from Hogwarts. Typical behaviour of a child who had been abused, she had concluded.

Now...Hermione was worried about her best friend, who had been like the brother she had always yearned for. She was determined to help Harry through this ordeal, and maybe, just maybe, there was a way to convince Snape that he should give his son a chance; that he owed Harry for all the misery that he had put him through. Hermione sighed; she peeked a look at the reserved Potions master, and examined his harsh features, looking for a trace...any trace of compassion in those lines and crevices. Convincing this stern man to open his heart, and let Harry in would be a daunting task indeed, she thought sadly.

----

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please." McGonagall 's voice echoed loudly throughout the Great Hall. All eyes turned to the tartan-clad witch expectantly. "I would like to welcome everyone back to Hogwarts, and also thank all the students and staff who have helped with the restoration of the Castle. We have all been through a terrible ordeal, but we have our freedom due to the courage and determination of Harry Potter." There were a few snickers from the Slytherin table, but the majority of the Slytherins and students from the other Houses began clapping profusely, and McGonagall looked fondly at Harry, whose face flushed with embarrassment. "I must say also, that I am very proud of each and every one of you for joining together, regardless of what House you may belong to, to protect the castle and defend your fellow students and teachers against the threat of Voldemort. We will be having a celebration to honour Mr. Potter, and every one of you who have so courageously defended Hogwart's honour.” McGonagall declared proudly. “I will give further details at a later date”.

McGonagall lowered her voice, and fought to maintain her usual reserved demeanor. “I would also like to extend condolences to all those who have lost loved ones," she said solemnly. "They will forever be remembered for giving their lives to protect our freedom and our future.”

Harry exchanged glances with the others at the Gryffindor table and he knew that they were thinking of Fred and Colin, among others who had fought so bravely, without thought to their own safety. If it hadn't been for Ginny and his closest friends, Harry thought that his heart might break with grief and heartache. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and again clasped Ginny's hand, as though their shared strength would envelope them both. Ginny squeezed Harry's hand, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Before your schedules are handed out, I have a few announcements to make. There are several notable changes to the teaching staff. Professor Slughorn has sadly decided to retire, thereby leaving the Potions class without an instructor.” McGonagall paused hesitantly. She knew that the news she was about to impart would not be well received, but she was determined to show her faith in Severus by giving him this responsibility. “However, Professor Snape has graciously agreed to fill the post temporarily, as well as continuing to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.” There was a smattering of applause, mostly from the Slytherin table, but it was apparent that the general consensus was of displeasure at this unwelcome news.

Harry stared at McGonagall in shock. She could not possibly be serious about this. What the hell was she playing at? He thought dazedly. Harry's hands were becoming moist and he licked his parched lips. How the hell was he going to face this man day in and day out? Having to deal with Snape for one class was bad enough, but Harry couldn't fathom how he would manage to endure their forced interaction twice a day. It wasn't as though Harry would be able to drop either of those classes either...not if he wanted to be an Auror, that is. These two disciplines were absolute prerequisites for entry into the Auror program at the Ministry.

Harry's day was not about to get any better, because McGonagall was not finished dropping her little bombshells.

“As well, Professor Snape has accepted my invitation to become my deputy Headmaster. With his experience as Headmaster and many years as Potions master, and Professor at Hogwarts, his experience will be invaluable. Please join me in congratulating Professor Snape,” McGonagall said hopefully.

Oh no...no...no...no! This must be a nightmare from which he will surely wake up from, very soon, Harry thought anxiously.

There were many shocked expressions and dropped jaws throughout the Great Hall. Hermione composed herself rather quickly, and began clapping. Draco and a few other Slytherins followed suit, and soon most everyone was clapping, albeit reluctantly. Harry, on the other hand just shook his head dazedly, and kept repeating to himself over and over again that this was just an hallucination, and it was not real. Unfortunately, that little part of Harry's brain that was firmly entrenched in reality, would not accept that explanation, and was causing Harry to tremble uncontrollably and his vision to tunnel. Ron slapped him on the back to stop him from hyperventilating.

“Are you alright mate?” Ron asked concernedly. His friend's face was devoid of colour, and Ron was worried that Harry would slump to the floor in a faint! How much bad news could a chap take in one day? Ron asked himself morosely.

“I'll be alright if you just tell me that McGonagall didn't just announce that Snape was going to be Deputy Headmaster,” Harry said shakily.

“I wish I could Harry, believe me...I wish I could,” Ron said dejectedly.

Snape looked quite smug after this announcement, and Harry shivered at the implications of what a Snape with more power at his disposal could mean for him.

“One more item on the agenda ladies and gentlemen,” McGonagall interrupted the belly-aching and protests that the last announcement had produced. McGonagall had a sneaking suspicion that the next disclosure would not elicit a better response. “Since this term had been interrupted, and we lost several weeks due to renovations on the castle, we must find a way to make up for any missed schoolwork,” McGonagall said firmly.

As expected, this little bit of good news only further added to the whining and lamentingwhich had ensued with the previous shocking revelations.

“Silence!” She interrupted in a loud, firm voice.

The students reluctantly quieted down, and looked at the Headmistress forlornly. They were quite certain that anything that would come out of the stern witch's mouth from this point onward, would not be news that would be welcome at all.

“As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” she said in a hard tone, “for the next several weeks, the professors in each class will be proceeding at an accelerated pace, just until such time as each instructor feels that the students are up-to-date with the required curriculum. I realise that this news is unpleasant, but you must understand that your professors want you to be prepared for whatever exams pertain to your year. This preparation is particularly important for O.W.L., and N.E.W.T. level students. I'm sure that I can count on your understanding in this matter. As well...there are several students who have not been present at all during this term.” Here McGonagall directed a pointed glance at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Therefore, any such student is welcome to come to myself or Professor Snape and we will arrange additional tutoring for those subjects that the student is having difficulty with.”

Ron and Harry exchanged looks. They both knew that for the next several weeks, they would be inundated with studies, leaving them little time for extracurricular activities such as Quidditch, and romance! Hermione, of course, would need no such help in catching up with her schoolwork, and looked indignant that Professor McGonagall would entertain such a thought!

“Please remember that all members of the staff are always at your disposal, no matter the problem, to make this transition as easy as possible. Now please proceed to the Main Hall, where your year Prefects will be handing out your schedules. I wish you all a safe and happy term.” McGonagall said with finality.

As the students and staff slowly started to exit the Great Hall, but Harry hung back... wanting a word with McGonagall.

“Go on ahead of me,” he nodded to Ginny Ron and Hermione. “I need to speak with McGonagall.”

“Are you alright Harry?” Ginny touched his arm lightly, and looked at him worriedly. She knew that he must be in shock over McGonagall's news. Merlin, was this McGonagall's idea of a joke? Ginny knew that Snape was innocent, but making him Deputy Headmaster? Why on earth would McGonagall do such a thing?

“Yeah, I'm alright Gin,” Harry said wearily. “I just need to clear up a few things with McGonagall...that's all. I'll see you later.” Harry wanted desperately to pull Ginny into his arms, but since they were still in a public place, he restrained himself reluctantly. He settled for a quick peck, but when his lips briefly touched hers, it was torture not to prolong the kiss into a long passionate one. He sighed as he watched her leave, and was determined to catch up with her later, and make up for lost opportunity!

Harry managed to waylay McGonagall before she slipped out the back door. He had wanted to wait until Snape was out of sight, and when he saw the billow of black robes glide out the door, he pounced on her immediately.

“Uh...Professor—Can I have a word with you,” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Of course Mr. Potter. What can I do for you?” McGonagall looked at Harry expectantly.

“Well, it's about...uh...I mean...uh, it's about Professor Snape,” Harry blurted out nervously. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to approach the subject uppermost in his mind. Should he tell her about his relationship with Snape, or did Dumbledore inform her already? What would be her motive for making Snape Deputy Headmaster? Harry was quite sure that she would not appreciate him questioning her decision.

McGonagall interrupted his musings. “Mr. Potter, you are going to be late for class, and I will be as well. I'll save you the trouble however, as I'm quite certain I know what is on your mind. I'll cut to the chase; I know that Professor Snape is your father. I also realise that you may be questioning my decision to make your father Deputy Headmaster.”

“Please do not call him my father Professor,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “He has made it quite clear that he doesn't want anything to do with me. Uh...Professor, was it Professor Dumbledore who told you about Snape?

McGonagall looked at him sternly. “It is Professor Snape, Potter. He deserves your respect. He is now Deputy Headmaster of this school, your Professor, as well as your father!” She admonished him firmly. “I overheard Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape speaking, and that is how I found out about your familial relationship, Potter.” She looked at him sadly. “I know that things are a little strained between the two of you Mr. Potter, but give him some time; he'll come round eventually.”

“No Professor! No disrespect intended...but I think that you're way off on this. He hates me just as much as he always has, and I don't understand,” Harry said sadly. “I thought that he loved my mum. I'm his son-” Harry choked on his tears. “I don't think he'll ever change his mind.”

McGonagall looked at Harry sympathetically, and then did something rather out of character for the cool and composed witch. She put one hand on Harry's shoulder and gently lifted his chin with her other hand. “Do you trust me, Potter?” she asked softly, as she looked deeply into Harry's sad emerald eyes.

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Wh-a-at do you mean Professor?” Harry asked hesitatingly.

“Mr. Potter, your father is not a demonstrative man. He was a spy for many years and has not lived an easy life. He has seen horrors that few of us can even imagine. Your father is a strong, brave man, but he is not a man who shows weakness. He has been conditioned to keep his emotions at bay, and to keep his secrets close to his chest. This is what has kept him alive...what has kept him sane. Trust me to know I'm doing, Potter. I'm working on your father, but I need you to bear with me, and don't fight against me.”

“But Professor, why did you have to make him Deputy Headmaster?” Harry whined. “He's going to be on my case even more now. He'll abuse his power!”

“Mr. Potter, you will simply have to stay out of trouble for once in your life, and you'll have nothing to worry about,” she said with a touch of humour. “Now, be off with you, or you will be late for class,” McGonagall said sternly.

“But Professor, I-” Harry pleaded.

“Mr. Potter, go to class, now!” McGonagall said in a hard voice.

“Yes M'am,” Harry said dejectedly.

Harry caught up to Hermione and Ron as they were standing in line to receive their schedules.

“Harry, where have you been?” Hermione asked worriedly. “First class starts in fifteen minutes. We'll have to rush down to the dungeons pretty quickly now,” she scolded him.

“What did you say?” Harry squeaked. “The dungeons? Our first class is Potions? NO! Can this day get any worse?” he complained.

As Harry was handed his schedule, his heart sunk as he saw that Hermione had indeed been correct that his first class was double potions with the Slytherins. Harry was beginning to wonder if maybe dabbling in Dark Magic had somehow cursed him.

“Well goodbye mate,” Ron said, slapping Harry on the back. “You should've dropped Potions while you had the chance, like me!

Harry glared at him. Hermione glared at him. Ron's smile dropped, and he sheepishly waved goodbye, and left Hermione and Harry staring after him.

They looked at each other solemnly, and Hermione said, “It won't be so bad Harry, cheer up.”

“Whatever you say Hermione,” Harry said skeptically.

Harry and Hermione rushed down to the dungeons breathlessly in an attempt to be on time. Of course, fate was not on their side.

Harry took a deep breath, turned the door handle, and immediately wished that he had not bothered getting up that morning. A silky voice greeted them. “Potter, Granger...I should have known,” Snape sneered. “Only you two would have the gall to arrive late on the first day of class,” he said acidly. “Well...you will both turn around and take yourself back out the door.”

“But sir!” Hermione sputtered.

Harry gaped at him. Hatred welled up inside of him, and he clenched his fists. What a bastard Snape is, he thought. Why the hell didn't I just leave him dead? Harry thought furiously. How could this man be my father? He asked himself for the hundredth time.

“Silence!” Snape bellowed. His eyes flashed dangerously, and he fixed them with his cold black eyes. “You. Will. Leave. Now! Twenty-five points each from Gryffindor for your colossal lack of respect, and unless you are on time tomorrow,” Snape said as he moved a little closer to them, and leaned forward malevolently, “Do not bother to show up.”

Harry gritted his teeth, and grabbed Hermione roughly by the arm. He pulled her out the door and dragged her half-way down the corridor, stomping his feet angrily all the way.

"Harry, stop...please...you're hurting my arm," she said crossly. "What on earth is wrong with you ? I know that you're mad, but-"

Harry stopped abruptly and let go of Hermione's arm as though it were a hot coal.

"Uh...oh...sorry," Harry muttered apologetically. "I just can't believe that git," Harry fumed.

"Not that I don't think that Snape was rather harsh, but I guess I can sort of understand his anger at us being late on the first day of class. You know how strict he's always been about being on time. He takes it as a sign of disrespect." She glared at Harry. "Why were you so late? What did you talk to McGonagall about for so long?" Hermione asked curiously, tempering her anger somewhat.

"Well no one asked you to wait for me you know,” Harry said instead of answering. I'm perfectly capable of finding my way down to the dungeons on my own. I've been doing it for six bloody years!"

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of shock and hurt. "I know that you're going through a rough time Harry, but that doesn't give you the right to snap at me, or practically pull my damned arm out of its socket for Merlin's sake," she countered irately. "You have been very moody these past few days, and while you have the right to be upset, I'm not going to stand here and let you take it out on me. I've tried to be understanding and show you that I'm here for you, but-"

Harry hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry Hermione," he said quietly. Hermione was right; he had been short with his friends lately, but he just felt so out of control ever since the confrontation with Snape. His mood swings were beginning to get out of hand, as well. One minute he felt on top of the world that he had survived his encounter with Voldemort and that he had come out unscathed... physically at least, and the next moment, he was consumed with inexplicable waves of resentment and rage.

"You're right, I shouldn't take out my frustrations with Snape on you," he admitted ashamedly. "I know that we were late but c'mon Hermione, the git could have just taken a few points off. But no, he took twenty-five a piece off Gryffindor. That's fifty bloody points!"

"I can count Harry," Hermione pointed out quietly; she was watching Harry in concern..

"And he threw us out and made us look like bloody fools in front of the whole class!" Harry ranted. Again, Harry could feel reason begin to slip out of his control and a rage beneath the surface which threatened to erupt at any minute.

“Yeah well...he did rather overreact, didn't he?” Hermione admitted.

“You're damned right he did and only because he's mad at me for bringing him back from the Veil. He's an ungrateful bastard and now that he's Deputy Headmaster, he's going to make my life a living hell. That's what I was talking to McGonagall about...that's why I was late. I was trying to find out what on earth she was thinking by giving Snape so much power.” Harry’s face twisted in disgust. “She wouldn't even listen to me. I don't understand her reasoning. She knows how many times that Snape took unfair points off of Gryffindor, or how many times that he's assigned detentions for no reason. Why would she give him even more control, when he's only going to abuse it?”

“I imagine that McGonagall wanted to give Snape a show of support to prove to the Ministry that she believed in and trusted him,” Hermione said wisely.

“Yeah well, I'm sure that she could have found another way to show her appreciation...like giving him a medal or something. But no, she has to make him Deputy Headmaster so he has even more power to torture any student not from Slytherin,” Harry griped.

“Well, there's not much you can do about it Harry, and I suggest that you don’t approach McGonagall again,” Hermione advised sternly. “It doesn't sound much like she appreciated you questioning her judgement.”

“What just happened in Potions with Snape proves that he shouldn't have been given so much authority in the first place,” Harry argued. “McGonagall had to know that it would go to his head.”

“I think that now you're the one overreacting,” Hermione said with worry. “I really think that you should let it go Harry, and trust that McGonagall knows what she's doing.” Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that the Headmistress had a good reason for showing so much blind faith in Snape, and as Hermione trusted her Head of House implicitly, she tried to convince Harry to do the same.

“Oh just forget it. I should have known that you wouldn't understand. How could you? It's not you that Snape has been harassing for the past six years for supposedly being the son of his enemy, is it? It's not you who had your own father spit in your face, discard you like rubbish and tell you he doesn't want anything to do with you.” Harry's voice rose shrilly, and he could feel his pulse quickening. But he just couldn't stop himself. “After all, why would you care? You've got two parents who would do anything for you! Well, you can just save your Snape-worshipping for someone who wants to listen!”

Hermione stared at him in shock. Tears filled her eyes, and she wiped them away furiously. “I can't believe that you could say something so horribly cruel Harry,” she said. I don't know what's going on with you, but you'd better get some help...and quickly. I thought that you were my friend. After all that we've been through...I can't understand how you could believe that I would take Snape's side over yours. I'm just trying to point out that maybe things aren't as bad as you think they are and that you should just calm down a bit and think things through clearly, that's all I'm saying.”

“Oh...so now you're trying to say that I'm mental too?” Harry asked heatedly.

“No, of course not!” Hermione said vehemently. “You're being unreasonable! I just meant-”

“Forget it, I don't need this right now! I'm going to the Common room, to calm down,” he said mockingly. “I'll see you in Transfiguration later....maybe…” Harry stomped away furiously, his words trailing off.

Hermione stared after him. Her stomach was twisted in knots, and her head was spinning. She was starting to get a very bad feeling as she watched Harry storm away.

--

Harry threw himself on his bed dejectedly. Now that his anger was beginning to recede somewhat, he was overwhelmed with guilt at how he had treated Hermione. What the hell was wrong with him these days? He had never felt so confused and or so angry..

They are all conspiring against you...they want you to fail.

Harry jolted up from his bed. Where the hell did that thought come from? he thought frenziedly. He wiped his sweaty brow, and rubbed his tired eyes. I'm not getting enough sleep; that's the problem, he consoled himself. Since the confrontation with Snape, his sleep had been riddled with nightmares, and he would wake up sweating and trembling uncontrollably.

Maybe Hermione has a point, Harry thought...panic-stricken. Maybe, I am mental! Okay, Harry, get a hold of yourself, it's normal to be a bit barmy after all I've been through. Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I'll believe it, he thought acerbically.

Harry snuck a look at his watch, which was the one throwback from his Muggle upbringing that he had refused to relinquish. He just could not get accustomed to measuring time the Wizarding way. Harry groaned; it was time to make his way down to Transfiguration, and his reluctance to attend class was two-fold. He was not particularly pleased with McGonagall at the moment, and he was not anxious to have to face Hermione after his behaviour earlier. He would have to grovel at her feet and beg her forgiveness for having acted like a complete arse.

Harry drew in a deep breath and searched down deep for what remained of his Gryffindor courage. Although in his own humble opinion, he was acting more like a cross between a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin. Dark thoughts mingled with the emotional roller coaster that he'd been riding, had Harry questioning his sanity and his identity alike. Harry dragged his feet slowly, as though he could suspend time in doing so.

Enough of that, he told himself sternly and tried to force his feet to comply with the command to move forward. That's it...now… If only the rest of his body would follow suit.

As Harry descended the staircase, he noticed that Ron and Hermione were whispering to each other. They ceased abruptly when they noticed Harry advancing towards them. Harry bit his lip in vexation, but told himself firmly that he deserved Hermione's wrath for his shameful actions earlier.

Harry approached the couple slowly, and said hesitatingly, "Uh....hi guys. Uh...Hermione...uh, I'm...sorry for the way I acted earlier. I know it’s not an excuse," Harry offered sheepishly, "but I don't know what's wrong with me lately. Maybe you're right...maybe I'm not right in the head." Harry chewed on his lip worriedly.

Hermione touched Harry's shoulder lightly. "You've been through a lot. It's understandable that you'd be a little confused and angry. I just think that you really need to talk to someone." She looked at Harry hesitatingly, and braced herself for an explosion. "What about McGonagall? She seems to know what's going on. Does she know that Snape is your father?"

"Yeah, she does." Harry gnashed his teeth, and clenched his fists. "And she knows that he's being a real berk towards me too, and she still insists on throwing us together! I don't know what she thinks she's going to accomplish...but I tell you, if she thinks that Snape and I are going to reconcile and have this wonderful father and son relationship, then she's the one that's delusional," he said bitterly.

Ron snickered, "Yeah, Snape's not exactly the cuddly type, is he?"

“More like the prickly type,” Harry agreed.

“If you two are quite finished ,” Hermione said as she crossed her arms and glared at the pair sternly, “we had better be going. We can't afford to lose anymore points.”

Harry groaned. “Yeah...just wait till McGonagall realises that we've already lost fifty points for Gryffindor.”

“Yeah, and on the first day of class too,” Ron chuckled.

Ron almost turned into an icicle at the frosty stares he received from Harry and Hermione.

Ron held up his hands. “Whoa...lighten up you two. It was just a joke.”

Harry pursed his lips, and glared at Ron. “I'm not exactly in a joking mood right now Ron.”

Ron gave up his attempt to lighten the mood. “Right...let's be going then.”

----

They had barely found their seats, when the magical chimes signalled the beginning of class, and with a swish of her wand McGonagall slammed the door shut.

McGonagall directed an annoyed glance at Ron, Harry and Hermione. Her face was pinched in displeasure, and she narrowed her eyes at the trio. “In the future, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you all to allocate yourself sufficient time to find your seats and prepare for class, and not to slip in the door at the last moment.”

Harry felt his face heat up with embarrassment, at the reprimand but was grateful that McGonagall had at least not taken off anymore points from Gryffindor. He was beginning to feel ganged up on by Snape and McGonagall.

“Now…if we are quite finished with all the interruptions,” she stressed as the whispering and chattering slowly died down. She again narrowed her eyes, and directed a stern glance at the trio. “As I was saying in the welcoming speech, we will devote the next several weeks to reviewing the material which was covered before the Final Battle, and subsequent closure of the Castle for renovations. We will proceed at an accelerated pace. However, I’m sure as seventh year students, you will appreciate the necessity of working diligently to bring you up to the necessary level of competency to successfully master your Newts. I expect a certain level of dedication and maturity from all of you, and I won’t tolerate any slacking, so if you expect to slide by here, then I suggest you switch to Divination. I’m sure that Professor Trelawney has available space in her class.

Parvati and Lavender huffed in indignation at McGonagall’s barb towards Trelawney. Harry couldn’t help thinking again that although in many ways Trelawney was a fraud, she had been chillingly accurate with her predictions on at least two occasions. First there was her vision about Wormtail having betrayed his mother and fa-uh-James, and the next was the prophecy concerning himself and Voldemort…neither living if the other one did.

Harry was startled out of his reverie, by McGonagall’s next proclamation.

“Now…I’ve also reviewed the curriculum that I had planned on following, and I’ve made a few adjustments that I’m confident you’ll be pleased with. In the past, many students have expressed interest in becoming Animagi, so I’ve received permission from the Ministry to instruct those who are interested, and when you feel that you are prepared, the Ministry will send a representative to Hogwarts to administer the license exam.”

There were, of course, many murmurs of approval and delight at this announcement. Once the hubbub died down, McGonagall continued. “In addition, we will be studying the more complex issues of transfiguration…such as what sort of molecular structures lend themselves well to transfiguration, and what others…such as metal or steel, could be problematic should the correct incantation, or proper wand movement not be implemented. For now though, we will begin with reviewing the material covered at the beginning of the term, for the benefit of those who were not present.”

Pansy Parkinson glared nastily at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “But Professor,” she whined, “why should we all have to sit through a lecture on material that we’ve already learnt, when only a few of us weren’t here? Why don’t you just give them extra work and make them catch up?” Pansy grumbled.

“Miss Parkinson!” McGonagall reprimanded sharply, “Mr. Potter and the others have put their lives on the line, and sacrificed their time, so that Mr. Potter could defeat one of the most evil wizards of our time, so I think that we can take the time to help him and the others so that they will be at the same level as their classmates. It's the least we can do for them after they have given us the gift of our freedom. Don't forget, as well, Miss Parkinson, that there are many Slytherins who were not able to attend Hogwarts at the beginning of term, for various reasons."

There were actually numerous students from all four Houses who had been unable to attend Hogwarts because they were Muggleborn, or whose families were considered blood traitors, like the Weasleys.

By the end of class, Harry felt that his overloaded brain wouldn't allow him to process any more information; he was exhausted. Harry wasn't quite sure how he would manage to endure the full schedule of classes ahead of him. He breathed a sigh of relief when the chimes rang again, and he yanked his book bag, and jumped up from his seat. He decided on the spur of the moment, against his better judgement, to speak to McGonagall again about Snape’s behaviour earlier. Harry turned to Hermione and Ron hesitatingly and waved for them to go ahead.

"Harry! What are you going to do? Tell me you are not going to speak to McGonagall about Snape?” she whispered, glaring angrily at him; her eyes narrow slits.

"Just go Hermione!" Harry reiterated forcefully.

Ron intervened and yanked Hermione's arm and led her towards the door, whilst she protested vigorously. "See you in Charms mate," Ron said with a wink.

“Professor McGonagall, can I speak to you please?” Harry forced his voice to remain calm and controlled.

McGonagall sighed, and narrowed her eyes sternly at Harry. “Mr. Potter, what can I do for you now? I am quite confident that you are not intending to complain yet again about your father's appointment as my Deputy Headmaster,” she said, sarcasm lacing her tone.

“I'm not questioning your judgement or anything Professor, but-” Harry began slowly.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows and directed a disbelieving look at Harry.

“No...really Professor!” Harry protested. “It's just that, uh...” Ooh, this was going to be painful he thought. He didn't relish relating to McGonagall just what had transpired in Potions with Snape. He knew that he would be reprimanded for not having obeyed her instructions in proceeding to Snape's class immediately when she had told him to.

“Mr. Potter, you are going to be late for class yet again if you don't spit the words out!”

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. He wondered if Snape hadn't already gone to McGonagall to complain about him, and recounted his version of the truth. Well, he thought angrily, I’m going to tell McGonagall my side of the story.

“Professor...” Harry said quickly, “…I don't know what Snape told you, but we were only a few minutes late for his class, and then he goes all crazy and takes twenty-five points off each of us, and then he threw us out of class,” he said, the words tumbling out.

McGonagall pursed her lips in disapproval. “So you think that it was acceptable for you to arrive late for his class and now you expect me to intervene on your behalf...do you Mr. Potter?

“No! You don't understand Professor,” Harry denied vehemently.

McGonagall held up her hand. “No! I think that it is you who doesn't understand Mr. Potter. I clearly remember warning you to stop talking and get to class. Professor Snape had every right to take points off for arriving late to class,” she admonished sternly.

“Yes... but he threw us out!”

“Mr. Potter! You are about to be late for your next class as well... now leave.” She pointed towards the door. Softening her tone when she realised how harsh she had been, she said gently, “Mr. Potter, as I said before...give your father a chance. I know that he can be rather...uh....difficult, shall we say, but he is a good man.” Harry snorted and looked at McGonalgall sceptically. “You just have to be patient. Now. Get. To. Class,” she said firmly.

“Yes M'am,” Harry mumbled.

--

McGonagall noticed that Severus slipped out inconspicuously before lunch was finished and discretely followed him to his office. She waited several minutes and knocked lightly on the door.

“Enter,” a deep voice answered, muffled by the door.

McGonagall hesitated, and slowly opened the door. Severus was seated behind his desk marking assignments. He lifted his head, and looked expectantly at McGonagall.

“Severus...” she greeted him cautiously.

“Minerva,” he drawled, “to what do I owe this honour? Shall I guess?” He tapped his index finger on his temple. “Potter didn't waste any time running to you to complain about his unfair treatment, did he Minerva? “

“Severus, you were a little harsh with him, don't you think? He is your son, and--”

“Oh, so he thinks that just because he's my son that he can waltz into class almost one half hour late? He's obviously just as arrogant as he always was. Believing that he's above the rules, and expecting to fly by the seat of his fame.” Snape was fuming. How dare the brat go running to his Head of house like a spoiled child to complain because he was quite justifiably reprimanded for arriving late on the first day of class?

McGonagall's eyes widened in surprise. She had not realised that Harry was so late to class. She had assumed that he was only five or ten minutes late. Harry, of course, had glossed over the truth to reflect badly on Severus.

McGonagall's face flushed in embarrassment. “I'm sorry Severus, I hadn't realised that he was so late, I-”

“We need to clarify a few things Minerva,” Severus began coldly. “If you wish for me to continue as your Deputy Headmaster, you must give me your assurance that you will not undermine my authority at every turn. I will rescind my acceptance of the position if you persist in questioning my methods of discipline and do not trust my judgement. I had assumed that when you offered me the position, that you had placed a certain amount of faith in me. Correct me if I'm wrong.” Severus crossed his arms, and waited impatiently for an answer.

Minerva looked at Severus apologetically. “You're right Severus, and please accept my apologies.”

“Very well Minerva, but I will not tolerate this sort of interference again. Make it clear to Potter that he will receive no special treatment from me, and that you will not continually attempt to shield him from the consequences of his actions.” Severus hardened his expression. “I have always gotten the impression Minerva that you were not always pleased with Albus' decisions concerning Potter over the years.”

Minerva looked at Severus sadly. “No,you are right about that Severus. Albus meant well, but...he placed the boy in situations that the child simply wasn't mature enough to handle. Goodness knows that Harry has always been blessed with incredible courage and blind-luck.” Minerva had always tried to convince Albus that the boy needed to be treated like a child, not an adult. Harry had deserved so much more, and it seemed that all the adults in his life had failed him. Minerva knew that she should have been more adamant in protecting him from the horrors that the boy had experienced in his young life.

Ironically... Severus had been the only one who who had seen that Harry should have been made to adhere to the rules, not constantly encouraged him to break them, as had done consistently. True... Severus' methods were cruel and vindictive and his protestations of Harry being allowed too much licence by Albus and the rest of the Wizarding world, were not motivated by care for the boy's well-being, but nevertheless...he was right that Harry should not have been treated like a celebrity, but as boy who deserved a childhood.

When Minerva thought of all the times that the boy could have died, she shuddered. If she had been Headmistress at the time, Harry would never have been allowed possession of the invisibility cloak. Minerva would never have given him...a mere child of thirteen, a Time-turner to wander the woods in the dead of night, with a convicted murderer and a werewolf on the loose. She had failed Harry in the past, that much was true...but so help her, she would make it up to the boy by giving him the family that he never had.

As stubborn as Severus was...he deserved to be happy. The man had suffered deeply as well, and although Minverva wasn't privy to the details, she knew that Severus had suffered horrible abuse at the hands of his father. She also knew that he had been teased, and harassed mercilessly as a student, by James Potter, and Sirius Black. The years that Severus had served as a spy had also taken its toll on him. After having kept the darkest secrets cached away in the deepest recesses of his mind, and after the necessity of keeping his emotions tightly controlled for so many years, Minerva wondered what could possibly be the key to opening his heart.

Perhaps these two men were as different as night as day. And maybe she was banging her head against a brick wall, but as sure as Merlin was her witness,she was determined that she would do everything in her power to help them see how much they needed each other.

“You know that I wouldn't have offered you the position Severus, had I not the utmost faith in your capabilities. The only thing that I ask is that you not abuse your authority. Especially with your son. You must try to be objective if you hope to govern the students effectively and fairly, Severus. I promise to allow you to do your job, but please try to see Harry not as you have for the past six years...as an extension of James Potter, who we know is not Harry’s father, but as your son...Lily's son.

Draco Malfoy stood just outside the door, hand poised in the air, ready to knock. He was frozen in shock. Son? Snape's son? Potterwas Snape's son?

Harry's blood was boiling. First Snape...now McGonagall! They were both beginning to seriously piss him off! Fisting his hands tightly in a spurt of anger and frustration, Harry stomped all the way up to the Tower. He just knew he could not endure sitting in Charms, trying to pretend that he was paying attention, and concentrate when his mind was clearly not in any shape to absorb any more knowledge. He knew that he would just sit there, and stare into space, listening to Flitwick's squeaky voice drone on and on, till it put him in a trance... and there was certainly no way that he had any desire to lay eyes on his dear father right now!

I'm in seventh year, he told himself. It's not even mandatory to attend school; there's certainly nothing they can do to me if I decide not to go to class. Harry ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that told him skipping Defence with Snape was not the most intelligent decision he had ever made.

Harry threw himself down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

---

“Where's Harry?” Hermione glanced around Flitwick's classroom anxiously.

Ron looked bewildered. “Hmm...maybe he's still with McGonagall,” he suggested.

“Class is about to begin, and he's going to be late again.” Hermione slammed her book bag on her desk in frustration.

“You're not his mother Hermione; leave the man alone. Harry's not five years old; if he's late then it's his business, not yours.” That earned him a fierce glare from Hermione.

“Well I'm his friend Ronald, and I'm worried about him. He's been acting strangely; flying off the handle at the drop of a pin. He seems to be really far away sometimes too. Don't tell me that you haven't noticed?”

“Yeah, he's been a little...off,” Ron admitted reluctantly. “But, look what Harry's been through. He got rid of Voldemort for good, and he's lost a lot of people he really cared about.” Ron's heart squeezed in his chest at the thought of Fred's death. His whole life had been turned upside-down as well. Sometimes he felt as though he had to be the strong one. His mom had had a complete breakdown, and his father was trying his best to console her, but he was grieving too. As since Mr. Weasley was extremely busy at the Ministry these days, it was ultimately up to Ron to be the man of the house. Charlie was back in Romania working with dragons, Bill and Fleur had gone to France to visit Fleur's parents, so Ron felt it was up to him to hold the family together. Ron had also given up his plans to become an Auror like Harry. He'd had quite enough of danger and excitement...thank-you-very-much, and Fred's death brought to home how mortal they all were. How a life could be snuffed out at the blink of an eye. Maybe he would find a nice safe job at the Ministry, like his father. Yeah, Muggle artifacts were beginning to sound really exciting!

“Now the poor guy finds out that the bloody bat of the dungeons is his father and Snape has been a real git to him too,” Ron pointed out. “Just back off and give him some space Hermione.”

Hermione huffed impatiently. “I realise that Ron, but arriving late to class and losing points or getting detention, is not going to help matters,” she said haughtily.

Ron threw his hands up in the air in defeat. He knew that when Hermione made up her mind on any given subject, it was useless to argue.

Their frenzied whispering came to a halt however when the small instructor entered the room. All through class, Hermione kept darting looks at Ron and motioning to Harry's empty seat. Ron had to admit that now he was beginning to worry about Harry's whereabouts and his frame of mind.

As the students were emptying the classroom, Hermione pulled Ron aside. “I can't believe that he skipped class again. He's going to be in so much trouble.” Hermione's face crinkled with worry. “I hope that he hasn't done anything foolish.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I'm sure that Harry's fine Hermione. Maybe he took a walk around the grounds to clear his head, or maybe went to lie down, and fell asleep. Or maybe he-”

“I get the picture Ron,” Hermione snapped. “C'mon, let's get to Defence before we're late. I don't fancy Snape throwing me out of class again, or taking more points off of Gryffindor. I just hope that Harry shows up there.” Hermione worried her lip in vexation.

Ron glanced at Hermione incredulously. “Surely Harry's not mental enough to skip Snape's class?”

“Frankly Ron, I wouldn't be surprised at anything that Harry did lately. He's obviously not thinking clearly and he's been quite testy too.”

“Well...he has been a bit moody, but I'm sure that it's nothing serious. Just relax; I'm sure that he just needs time to himself...to work things out.” Ron lifted Hermione's chin up gently, and looked into her eyes. “He'll be fine Hermione. Harry can take care of himself,” Ron assured her. He took Hermione's hand in his and pulled her along towards the Defence classroom. “C'mon...I'm sure that he's probably already there.”

Hermione looked doubtful but nodded her head anyway. “Yes, you're probably right. Let's go.”

----

But Harry wasn't in Defence, and Snape looked murderous when the class began and there was still no sign of him.

Hermione and Ron took their seats, and again anxiously looked at the door expecting Harry to waltz in at any moment. It was obvious however, as the class continued that Harry had no intention in coming.

Snape glared at Ron and Hermione as if it were their fault that Harry was absent. “We will again be performing non-verbal spells this year, and I expect a better performance than last year,” Snape sneered. “Not to be holding your breaths until you look like constipated hyenas,” he said maliciously. “You will now divide,” he went on, “into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on.”

“I said non-verbal spells, you idiot boy,” Snape bellowed at Neville. “You are seventh years...you should have mastered this concept long ago,” he scowled.

As he stalked around the room, Snape's fury was gathering up like a storm cloud. He was infuriated at Potter's noticeable absence, and the pathetic performance of the students was not alleviating his irascibility. Snape's skin prickled, as once again he sensed a pair of eyes staring at him. He turned his head slowly, and caught Malfoy quickly glancing away. He had caught the boy looking at him oddly since the class began, and it was starting to make him uncomfortable. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, as the ache in his head began to intensify. Severus once again cursed Minerva for having blackmailed him into staying on at Hogwarts. He could have been a respected researcher, at the top of his field, working for a prestigious hospital. Or he could have been an independent Potions Master taking on only the most affluent clients. He could have been living the life of luxury, he could have been the most respected Potions Master in Europe, but NO...he was here teaching imbecilic, empty-headed children who had no desire to exceed.

As the class filed out, Severus blocked Malfoy's exit from the classroom. The boy looked up in surprise at his Head of House. "Mr. Malfoy," Snape drawled, "I wish to speak with you privately."

Malfoy squirmed. He really didn't want to reveal to Snape that he had been eavesdropping on his private conversation with McGonagall--that he knew that Potter was Snape's son. What could Snape want with him though? Did he already suspect that he knew Snape's secret? "Of course sir,"

Snape waved his wand and placed a silencing charm on the classroom. "You seemed rather...distracted today," Severus began cautiously. If Draco was disturbed about something, Severus didn't want to be too forceful. He wanted the boy to feel comfortable confiding in him. "Is something bothering you? Snape asked quietly.

"Oh...no sir, not at all," Malfoy protested quickly. Too quickly, Snape thought suspiciously.

"How is your mother doing Draco?" Snape noticed that Draco expression flitted quickly to one of sorrow.

"She's well sir...but you know... it's not easy for her with father in prison." Draco lowered his eyes sadly. It had been difficult for his mother. As much as Draco knew that his father had gotten off rather easy, and as much as Draco knew that he should feel grateful to Potter for his part in the court's leniency with his mother and himself; the shadow of resentment was still lurking under the surface. His mother was apathetic and depressed, but Draco knew that he and his parents owed Severus and Potter their lives. The Dark Lord would never have had mercy on them. He would have sucked their souls from them, as viciously as a Dementor would have.

Despite his gratitude towards his Professor and Potter, he couldn't help the jealousy that emerged at the thought that Severus was actually Potter's father. Although Draco's father had doted on him publicly, and as much as Draco knew that his father had sacrificed much for his happiness, Lucius had high expectations of his son, and he could be demanding and cruel at times. Draco had always wished in some ways that Severus had been his father, not Lucius.

Severus was tough on his Slytherins, contrary to the public displays of favourtism he displayed towards them in class. In private however, Snape made it clear that he had high expectations of his Slytherins. He demanded that they attain a certain level of academic standing, did not tolerate disrespect, and expected the Slytherins to display a certain amount of decorum in public. Merlin help them if they lost points for Slytherin, even though Severus himself never took points from his own house, and never admonished them or humiliated them in class. However, he had no qualms whatsoever in assigning them the most monotonous, and gruesome detentions behind closed doors. It was common knowledge amongst the Slytherin students that should they displease their Head of House in any way, they could expect the most severe punishments.

Draco himself had spent every day for a month gutting frogs and cleaning toilets with Filch, for having lost points from Slytherin when he had once mouthed off to McGonagall, and she had taken off thirty points from Slytherin. Snape had been livid when he had found out that not only had Draco been disrespectful to a Professor, but he had cost Slytherin points as well.

But Severus had always been well-respected amongst his House. The Slytherins had known that they could come to him with any problem no matter how large or small. While the man was far from being demonstrative or affectionate, he was a solid, stable presence for the Slytherins, and his snakes knew that they could always count on his loyalty and fierce protectiveness to guide them through their years at Hogwarts. Of course, now that Severus' loyalties were common knowledge, some of the students were a little reluctant to come to him, but most of the Slytherins were grateful to the professor for saving them from a life of servitude to The Dark Lord. Many of the Death Eaters and their families gained even more respect for the reserved Professor for his bravery and for putting his very life on the line for them.

Unfortunately... there were some Death Eaters who had escaped justice and who still posed a threat to Severus and Harry. Draco didn't delude himself that he was probably in danger as well. Many of Voldemort's faithful followers considered his mother, father and himself traitors as well, and Draco felt at times the animosity from some members of his own House. Most of that discomfort was self-inflicted though, because Draco felt disjointed and without purpose.

“You do know Draco, that should you feel the need to talk, that the door is always open,” Severus offered quietly.

“Uh...yes sir, thank you sir,” Draco muttered gratefully. He really just wanted to get away from Severus' scrutiny. He knew that Severus was a gifted Leglimens, and Draco valued his life. If Severus had had any idea what Draco was up to, those toilets in the seventh year Prefect's bathroom, would be glistening and Severus' private Potions store would be stocked to capacity till next Christmas!

“Uh... I really must go, sir. I have a lot of homework, you know. Thank you for your concern. I'll give your best to Mother.” Draco escaped as quickly as possible as soon as Severus lifted the silencing charms.

Severus looked at Draco's departing figure thoughtfully. That boy is up to something, his sixth sense warned him...and that intuition had saved his life many times in the past.

----

Draco ran up to the Owlery as quickly as possible, so as not to be noticed. He stopped halfway up, doubling over with a stitch in his side, and breathless from the unaccustomed exertion.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Draco took the note from his trousers' pocket, and attached it to the owl's foot. He was starting to have a pang of conscience, but jealousy reared its ugly head once more, and Draco pushed his second-thoughts to the back of his mind. Hopefully Severus would never find out that he was responsible, but he was tired of Potter's smug attitude and all the attention he was getting.

His father was in jail because of that prat, and his mother was a wreck. Yeah, Potter had saved his life in a sense, but Draco was tired of playing second-fiddle to Potter. If the conversation that he had heard was anything to judge by, the relationship between Potter and Severus was rocky at best. Draco was counting on driving Potter away, and finally acquiring some peace in his life. As an added bonus, he would finally have his Godfather all to himself. After all...it was Potter's fault that he didn't have his father around, and Draco was determined that he wasn't going to lose Severus as well.

Draco fastened the envelope to the school owl, with a frayed piece of cord. The

owl nipped his finger sharply, and Draco swore under his breath; he was tempted to swat the bloody bird. Draco breathed in deeply, and sent the tawny owl on its way. Draco's stomach churned. Oh Merlin...he wished that he could snatch the owl from the sky. The enormity of what he had just done, hit him like a punch in the gut. This ill thought-out plan could very well backfire on him, he realised suddenly. His plan might actually push Severus further away if the man found out what he had done.

----

After Draco left his classroom, Severus took a few minutes to compose himself, and pondered the dilemma of how he would deal with Potter. How dare that arrogant brat not only come to class late on the first day, but have the audacity to skip his class altogether as well? I do believe that this is a matter for the boy's Head of House, he finally decided. Yes...let Minerva deal with Potter. Because if he did, he would surely strangle the boy.

Severus made his way down to Minerva's office, and rapped briskly on the door. “Enter,” came a weary-sounding voice. As Severus turned the handle to enter, he overheard Flitwick and Minerva taking about Potter.

“I will be speaking with Mr. Potter and attempt to discover why he failed to attend your class Filius,” Minerva assured the tiny Professor.

“I was just concerned that Mr. Potter was ill, that's all Minerva,” Flitwick said with concern.

Well, well, well...Severus thought to himself. The plot thickens; my class is not the only one the brat has skipped.

Minerva shifted her gaze to Severus as he entered the room. “I'll be with you in a moment, Severus.”

“Now Filius I'm sure that Mr. Potter is just fine, but I'll look into the matter, and I'll be in touch,” Minerva said consolingly.

The tiny Professor looked relieved. “Very well Minerva, I'll leave it in your capable hands, and tell Mr. Potter that my door is always open if he needs anything,

Severus wanted to vomit. Yet again everyone was making excuses for Potter and throwing themselves at his feet. It made him nauseous when he thought of the adoration that the mediocre boy had received over the years, and how the brat had milked it for all it's worth. And to think that the boy was his son. No, he just could not adjust his thinking to see this spoiled, arrogant brat as his flesh and blood.

Minerva plopped down wearily in the seat behind her desk. “Sorry to keep you waiting Severus, this has been a rather distressing day,” she said, wringing her hands.

Severus lifted his eyebrow. “I'm afraid that it's not about to get any better Minerva.”

Minerva's eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean, Severus?”

“I mean that Potter failed to attend my class as well.” Severus crossed his arms, and waited expectantly to see Minerva's reaction.

Minerva's face fell. “Oh dear.” She looked crestfallen.

Snape's expression hardened. “Yes Minerva. And just what do you plan to do about it?”

“I believe that perhaps the question is what are you going to do about it Severus?” Minerva crossed her arms and glared at Severus. “You are my right-hand man, Severus and I do believe it's time to delegate some of my responsibility to you. Consider speaking to Harry your first task as Deputy Headmaster.”

Severus was appalled. “You are not serious Minerva!”

Minerva struggled to maintain a straight face at Severus' shocked expression. It was time to pull out the big guns she had decided. She was thoroughly fed up with Severus' stubborn refusal to deal with his son, and if he wouldn't do it on his own, well she would just have to give him a little push...or rather, a little shove!

“Oh quite, Severus. You are Deputy Headmaster, are you not? You did say that you wished I had more faith in your judgement and wished to be granted more authority. Well...your first order of the day is to deal with a student who failed to attend class.” Minerva gently pushed the tall man towards the door. “I trust that you will handle this with your usual professionalism and decorum, and not allow your personal feelings to interfere with your duties.”

“Minerva, I-”

McGonagall gave Severus a hard shove out the door.

“Good day, Severus”

The door slammed in Severus' face and he just stood there staring at the closed door, fuming and clenching his fists. Severus knew damned well what the infuriating woman was trying to do, and he would have no part of it. Potter was sulking and Severus would not tolerate this childish behaviour. Minerva wanted him to deal with it, and that is precisely what Severus intended to do.

He would teach Potter a lesson, and for once he wouldn't have to deal with Albus' interference. It had irked him beyond measure how the Headmaster had always undermined Severus' authority every time he had attempted to discipline Potter. Well, Minerva had just given him carte-blanche, and Severus intended to fully take advantage of it.

----

Harry pulled himself off his bed reluctantly, and decided that he should perhaps answer his grumbling stomach's demand for food. A check of his watch confirmed that it was dinner time, so Harry made his way to the Great Hall with trepidation. Harry was loathe to face his friends...especially Hermione, and explain his absence in Charms and Defence.

Hermione awarded Harry with a stern look. “Harry where on earth have you been? Are you out of your mind? Skipping Charms was bad enough, but Defence? Snape looked livid. I just can't believe that you would-”

Harry finally had had enough of Hermione's nagging. “Give it a rest Hermione! I'm seventeen, not two, and I don't need you scolding me like a little child,” he said coldly.

Ginny was shocked. “Harry! Hermione was just trying to help. She's worried about you...we all are.”

Harry slammed his hand down hard on the table. “Well...I don't need her help...I don't need anyone's help. All of you can just bloody well leave me alone. I got along just fine all my life without a nursemaid Hermione, so just back off,” Harry said furiously. He pushed himself abruptly back from the table and stood up, intending on fleeing what felt like an attack, but his plans were thwarted.

“Mr. Potter,” a silky voice said behind him.

Harry twirled around quickly to see a tall figure swathed in black, looming over him.

Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry. “You and I need to have a little chat,” he said stonily. “My office. Now.”

Harry felt a rush of fury. He couldn't believe the nerve of the man, talking down to him in front of his friends. Well, he could just go to hell if he thought that Harry would follow him anywhere. He rose to his feet angrily because he felt at a disadvantage with Snape hovering over him so menacingly. Unfortunately for Harry, there was still a considerable height difference, and Harry had to crane his neck to look up at the tall professor.

“I'm rather busy Professor, so it'll have to wait,” he said quietly.

“Snape narrowed his eyes, and leaned down to whisper in Harry's ear. “Unless you wish to be embarrassed in front of your peers, Mr. Potter, I suggest you comply voluntarily with my request, or I will be forced to employ other means to ensure your cooperation.”

Harry gritted his teeth. Oh how he loathed this man.

Snape crossed his arms and fixed Harry with his cold, black eyes. “Well? What will it be, Mr. Potter?”

“Fine Snape,” Harry spat furiously.

Snape's expression grew thunderous. “You. Will. Never. Address me in such a manner again. If you ever call me anything other than sir, or Professor...you will deeply regret it, I assure you,” he said dangerously.

“Yes sir,” Harry said insolently.

Snape's face turned a deep shade of red. He fought to control his rising fury. “I will teach you a lesson in respect Potter that you will never forget if you don't adjust that attitude of yours,” he said in a low icy tone. “Now. Move.”

Harry hated giving in so easily, but as they had already drawn the attention of most of the students and staff in the Great Hall, Harry swallowed his next retort with great effort.

---

“Sit.” Snape pointed to the chair in front of his desk.

“I prefer to stand,” Harry said rebelliously.

Snape grabbed both of Harry's upper arms and forcefully plunked him into the chair.

Harry was indignant. How dare the greasy bastard manhandle him? Some measure of self-preservation must have taken hold of Harry though, or perhaps it was the fact that he was alone with the murderous-looking man in his office...but he wisely shut his mouth.

“Now,” Snape began coldly, “it has come to my attention that not only did you fail to attend my Defence class, but Professor Flitwick has reported your absence in Charms as well. As you don't look as though you are suffering from serious injury or illness, I would like to know just why you saw fit to miss two required classes. Explain.”

Harry remained silent. What was he supposed to say the git? I didn't go to your class because you are a bloody bastard, and I'm ashamed to be your son. You make me ill, and I want to vomit every time I look at your ugly face. No, Harry valued his hide!

“Very well then, Mr. Potter, it is clearly stated in Hogwarts’ Code of Conduct and Rules that all students are required to attend class unless given permission otherwise by their Head of House, Headmistress, or Deputy Headmaster-” Snape looked pointedly at Harry, “-and as such permission is only given for valid reasons such as illness or injury and as I know for a fact that Professor McGonagall had no prior knowledge of your intended absences, as she has asked me to deal with the situation...in my role as Deputy Headmaster.”

Harry groaned. How could McGonagall do this to him again?

“I do believe that two weeks detention for failing to attend my class is in order,” Snape began.

Harry actually thought that two weeks detention was pretty mild for Snape. But Snape wasn't finished by any means.

“And as I highly doubt that Professor Flitwick will discipline the Saviour of the Wizarding World,” Snape said sarcastically, “it appears that it falls on my shoulders to do it. Therefore, I am assigning two weeks detention for skipping his class as well. Oh, and I believe another week for your insolence would not be amiss, and another week for your blatant disobedience when ordered to come to my office. Let's see,” Snape drawled, pretending to count on his fingers, “that brings us to the end of term.”

Harry jumped up from his seat. “This isn't fair you, bloody git! When the hell am I supposed to do my homework? I'm going to talk to McGonaga-” Harry began. Dammit. He had forgotten! McGonagall was a traitor!

Snape smirked. “Oh... you may go running to Professor McGonagall to whine, but rest assured Mr. Potter...as she was the one that assigned me the responsibility of dealing with your transgressions, I believe your protests will fall on deaf ears. And as you can't seem to get a hold of your temper or control your smart mouth, I do believe that we will begin your detention immediately with five-hundred lines: I will not give cheek to my Professor and I will learn discipline and control of my temper.”

Snape handed Harry a piece of parchment and quill and motioned for Harry to pull up his chair up to the Professor's desk. Harry looked at Snape resentfully and gritted his teeth in frustration.

At this moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to hex the Giant Bat, who was smiling malevolently at him, into oblivian.

By the time Harry finished writing all five-hundred lines, his hand was cramped and he was wishing with all his heart that he was an orphan again!

Harry resisted the urge to throw the parchment in Snape's face, when he informed the professor that he was finished with his lines.

“You may leave Potter, but you will report to my Potions classroom immediately after dinner tommorrow night. I'm sure that I can cook up something productive for you to do,” Snape added nastily.

Harry just glared at Snape and stalked out of the office.

----

Harry glanced at his watch. It was five minutes until curfew. The bloody git probably timed it purposely so that I would get caught out after curfew, so he could add on a few more detentions, Harry thought bitterly.

Harry hurried up the charmed staircase, taking two stairs at a time. He arrived breathlessly in the Common Room, and was instantly greeted by Hermione, Ron and Ginny; they were all looking at Harry with concern.

Ginny took in Harry's bleary eyes and dark circles. “Have you been with Snape all this time?” She asked, worriedly.

“Yeah,” he grunted.

“Oh Harry-” Hermione began.

Harry glared at Hermione. “Save the lecture Hermione. I really can't deal with it right now.”

Hermione looked at Harry apologetically. “I'm sorry, but what happened with Snape?”

“The bloody git gave me detention until the end of term, that's what!” Harry said furiously.

“Oh, I'm so sorry Harry,” Ginny said sympathetically and took his hand, leading him to sit on the couch before the fire.

The flames from the fire flickered, illuminating Ginny's pretty face in a warm glow. Harry put his arms around Ginny and pulled her close to him on the couch. Behind him, Ron and Hermione took their cue and discreetly wandered off. Ginny and Harry had the Common Room to themselves, surprisingly enough and they took advantage of it. Harry wished desperately that they were anywhere but at Hogwarts right now.

Harry gazed into Ginny's eyes. “I'm sorry I acted like an arse earlier. I was really out of line. I've just been a little irritable over this whole Snape thing.”

Ginny brushed Harry's fringe away from his eyes, and softly cupped his face. “I love you Harry.”

Harry's eyes widened. They had never come right out and said the words, but each knew that there was an intangible force drawing the two of them together; as if an invisible magnet made it impossible for them to be apart--but love? Well...they had never admitted out loud that their feelings ran that deeply.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-I-uh...love you too,” he finally spit out. He looked at Ginny shyly. Harry didn't know why it was so hard to say those particular words to someone. Maybe it was because he had never had anyone to say them to. He had certainly never had anyone say it to him. Oh...he was sure that his pa-uh...well at least his mum, maybe even James had said it to him. James would have to have loved him to die for him...wouldn't he have? But aside from them, no one had said it to him that he could remember.

The Dursleys had said it to Dudley numerous times, but never to Harry. But surely what he felt for Ginny was love? At least that’s what he thought it was when you had to be with someone every waking minute and couldn't live without them. Yeah...if the goosebumps, sweaty palms, rapid heartbeat, and other body parts that reacted of their own volition at her mere presence and touch, were anything to go by. Harry gently wrapped his arms over Ginny's shoulders and they lay down beside each other on the couch, simply basking in the warmth of the fire.

They fell asleep that way, and woke with the early morning light softly bathing the room. Ginny was the first to wake, and gently shook Harry awake. He opened his eyes groggily; a little confused about where he was, but when Ginny handed Harry his glasses that had somehow fallen off his face onto the floor, and his eyes focused on Ginny, he was quite delighted to discover Ginny snuggled up next to him. Harry leaned forward and gently kissed her sweet lips.

The Common Room was quiet due to the early hour. Harry figured that it must have been only about five o'clock in the morning. Harry and Ginny knew though, that very soon that the room would be inundated with students getting ready for the day's classes. As neither wished to be discovered in a comprimising situation, Harry and Ginny gave in to one last passionate display of lust and hastily jumped up off the couch and righted their clothes. They exchanged a look of regret and Ginny bent down to retrieve the bookbag that she had carelessly thrown to the floor the night before and swung it over her shoulder.

She grabbed a shocked Harry by the collar and kissed him soundly. “Gotta go back to my dorm, before everyone wonders where I've been and then I'd have some explaining to do.” She winked at Harry and sauntered off...swinging her hips provocatively as she went.

Harry stood, open-mouthed at Ginny's departing figure. Well...a certain part of her figure!

----

Harry just knew that he was still blushing when he entered the great hall. He made a show of acting as though he hadn't seen Ginny since last night, but as Ron knew darned well that Harry had never made it to his bed last night, he gave Harry a knowing look and grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes, gave Ginny a peck on the lips and took his seat quickly, so as not to attract more attention than was necessary. Harry had already noticed that he was the object of many stares and whispers and rather thought that it was odd that so many people cared that he was giving his girlfriend a kiss.

Hermione, who was perusing the Daily Prophet, suddenly looked up, the colour draining from her face. “Oh no. Oh no..no...no. I can't believe this!”

Ron leaned over, glanced at the newspaper and began choking on his eggs.

Ginny and Harry looked at each other in concern. “What is it Hermione? What's wrong?” Harry probed.

“Oh Harry! I don't know how they found out, but-” Hermione hesitated.

Harry's stomach flip-flopped. “Found out what?” he asked, with a sinking feeling.

“They found out that-” Hermione looked at Harry regretfully, “they found out that Snape is your father.”

“What?” Harry snatched the paper away from a startled Hermione.

At that moment, Harry wished more than anything that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. There...on the front page of the Daily Prophet...for all the world to see, in living motion was a picture of Harry, shortly after Voldemort's defeat, and a rather seedy looking picture of Snape with an angry expression on his face. Harry thought they captured the essence of the man quite well. What was most shocking...were the headlines:

FORMER DEATHEATER TURNED SPY – HARRY POTTER'S FATHER? – by Rita Skeeter.

An anonymous source at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardy has confirmed that SeverusSnape is Harry Potter's father. Professor Snape was recently cleared of all charges of conspiracy and Death Eater activity. Ironically, it was Harry Potter who testified on Professor Snape's behalf.

The same source has also informed us that the relationship between the Saviour of the Wizarding World and his father is strained and volatile. Mr. Potter and his estranged father have never been onthe best of terms and it would seem that their familial relationship has not changed this. Or is it all an act?

Mr. Potter...or is it now Mr. Snape? Did staunchly defend his father against allegations that he had betrayed and murdered Albus Dumbledore. The source goes on to say....

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. This just can't be happening! Can this day get any worse?

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a flash of black swoop over him, felt a strong hand fist the back of his robes and then he was being dragged, out the door and down the corridor.

If Harry had had the presence of mind, or even the capacity to look back, he would have seen every student and staff alike, staring after him with a look of utter shock on their faces.

-----

Between screaming obscenities at his captor and having said captor drag him bodily down the hall, into his office and plonking him forcefully into a chair, Harry was attempting to make sense of it all.

“Just what the hell did you think you were doing?” A loud furious voice jolted Harry to attention.

Harry directed a hateful look at Snape. “What the hell are you on about Snape?”

Severus' eyes flashed dangerously. “I. Told. You. To. NEVER. Refer. To. Me. That. Way.”

“What the hell are you on about, sir?” Harry said through gritted teeth.

Snape leaned closer, putting an arm on either side of the chair. He was so close that Harry could feel Snape's hot breath on his cheek.

“You know damned well what I'm talking about, Potter,” Snape hissed.

“Enlighten me...why don't you, Professor,” Harry snapped back.

“You just couldn't wait to run to Skeeter, could you?” Snape lifted himself up to his full height. “ What? You couldn't get what you wanted, so you thought you could get revenge? Thought you could humiliate me?” Severus ranted.

Harry stared at Snape in shock.

“It wasn't enough that you experimented with Dark Magic to bring me back from the dead, without a thought as to what I might have wanted.” Snape narrowed his eyes and glared at Harry. “No. You had to go announce to the whole damned world that I'm your-”

Harry jerked himself out of the chair, clenching his fists tightly. “Are you out of your bloody mind?” he screeched. “Do you honestly think that I'd want the whole damned world to know that you're my father? You've made it perfectly clear how you feel about me; why would I want everyone to know that my git of a father doesn't want me?”

Harry's voice caught in his throat.

“I think that my mother would be ashamed of you. James was more of a father to me than you'll ever be.”

With those departing words, Harry turned, and slipped silently out the door.

My mother would be ashamed of you...Lily would be ashamed of you.

Severus stood in the same spot, staring at the closed door...long after Harry had left.

--

Harry made his way hasitly up to the Common Room to grab his bookbag. How he was going to get through this day... Harry had no idea.

He was breathless by the time he caught up to Hermione.

Hermione studied Harry's pale face anxiously. “Harry, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,”Harry snapped impatiently; he was still fuming over Snape's accusations.

“Did Snape hurt you?” Hermione asked anxiously.

Harry looked at her in surprise. “No, of course not. Snape may be a git, but I don't think that he would ever really hurt me.”

Hermione sighed in relief. “Oh, it's just with the way that he dragged you off and all and he seemed so angry-”

“Hermione, can we please just drop it?”

Hermone shot a worried glance at her friend. “Alright...let's get to class,” she agreed reluctanly.

Harry kept his head down as they walked into Potions class. Harry had no desire whatsoever to see Snape and attempted to make himself invisible. Of course with Snape that was a useless ploy.

“What do you know? Mr. Potter and Miss Granger have actually decided to grace us with their presence and on time for once.” Snape sneered.

Harry lifted his head up and glared at Snape.

Harry noticed that most of the class was darting glances between Snape and himself. Harry could hear snatches of “His father? Snape is Potter's father?.”

Snape, of course, put an end to it immediately. “Silence,” he bellowed. “The bell has rung, has it not? I will not tolerate mindless chatter when my class is in session. You will now hand in your homework assignments from yesterday. Anyone that has failed to complete the assignment, will serve detention with me this evening,” Snape said maleovantly.

Harry was seething. The prat knew damned well that Harry and Hermione weren't in class yesterday, because the git had bloody well thrown them out!

Snape stood before Harry, crossing his arms and looking down his hooked nose disdainfully at him. . “Well,Potter?” he demanded, holding out his hand expectantly. “Have you completed your assignment?

“You know damned well I didn't Snape, since you threw us out of class yesterday,” Harry said through gritted teeth. Harry could see Hermione next to him vigourosly shaking her head. He ignored her.

Snape swooped down on Harry so quickly that Harry jerked back violently, hitting his head against the back of his chair.

“I warned you about respect,” Snape hissed. He loomed over Harry menacingly.

“Oh...I do apologise, sir,” Harry replied in a sickeningly sweet drawl. “I didn't do my assignment because you saw fit to throw me out of class, deduct a hundred points from Gryffindor, and basically act like a bloody wanker, sir.”

Harry knew he had gone too far when he noticed the vein in Snape's temple pulsing.

“Stay after class, Potter. You and I are going to have another little chat,” Snape said in a low, dangerous voice. He gave Harry one last warning glance and continued gathering up the homework assignments.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had escaped the public humiliation that she knew would have been forthcoming, had not Snape been so preoccupied demeaning Harry. She did, however, feel a twinge of guilt at escaping Snape's wrath, while her friend had been berated so mercilessly. She did realise though that Snape would discover at some point that she had not completed her assignment, therefore she would earn her first zero ever, and probably a detention.

Malfoy watched the whole exchange between Severus and Potter with barely concealed glee. Not only had Skeeter paid him fifty galleons for the scoop about Potter, but Draco himself had escaped blame and his little plan had driven Potter and Severus even further apart. Draco had been especially pleased when he had discovered that Severus blamed Potter for the leak about their relationship. After Severus had dragged Potter by the scruff of his neck to his office, Draco had slipped out of the Great Hall silently, taking advantage of the fact that everyone one was preoccupied with all the commotion that was going on. Draco was quite surprised and delighted to find that Severus had forgone his usual paranoia and had neglected to put a privacy spell on the doors and walls of his office. Draco had overheard every last tidbit of their insightful conversation.

All traces of guilt had been erased the minute that Draco had realised that he had gotten away with his little scheme. He spent the rest of the class planning his next move in driving Prince Pottie away from Hogwarts.

Harry, on the other hand, spent the rest of the class plotting his revenge on his dear Daddy. He would make the greasy git pay, Harry thought maliciously. If Snape ever washed his hair I could switch his shampoo for green hair dye, or I could find out what spell James used to make him hang upside down from a tree, lower the git's trousers and let him swing in the wind in his yellowed underpants, Harry fumed inwardly.

Harry slowly grew more anxious as the class went on. He watched Snape stalk around the classroom, his black robes billowing behind him. He could hear Snape drone on ...lecturing, admonishing, sneering and insulting quivering students. This was his father, Harry thought--his flesh and blood. The man whom his mother had obviously loved deeply. Harry continued to study the man, and listen to his silky voice grow further and further away until the only voice Harry could hear was the one in his head.

He hates you, he never wanted you, because you're worthless. He cares more for his Slytherins than his own son. Chills ran down Harry's spine. What the hell? Where were these unbidden thoughts coming from again? Harry felt as if he were hearing someone else's thoughts. It was positively creepy! It reminded Harry of when Voldemort had intruded upon his thoughts and had attempted to plant false memories.

But these weren't untruths he was hearing, were they? It was all true. His mother and James had lied to him... they had left him all alone. Dumbledore had abandoned him to the Durlseys...hadn't he? With not a thought to how he would be treated. Had Dumbledore ever come to check on him? Had he never suspected the extent of the abuse that Harry had been subjected to, or had he coldheartedly abandoned the young child that he was, to a bleak future of abuse and neglect at the hands of the people who were supposed to protect and love him? Ironic it was, that the supposed blood wards built on love and sacrifice that were designed to protect Harry from forces beyond the walls of the little house on Privet Drive, could not save Harry from the evils that emanated from within those walls.

“Potter, if you are quite finished daydreaming-'' Snape startled Harry out of his tortured thoughts.

Harry looked up to an extremely irritated-looking Snape looming over him. Snape peered down into Harry's cauldron with a disgusted look at Harry's potion, which had begun bubbling over, and was a decidedly not the proper consistency nor thecolour the instructions had called for.

Harry hastily began stirring the offending concoction, and lowered the heat on the flame...but to no avail. The potion was ruined, and Snape looked livid. He was probably thinking how his son had definitely not inherited his skills in potions, Harry thought bitterly.

With a swish of his wand, Snape vanished the contents of Harry's cauldron, and smugly announced- “Zero, for the day's work Potter.” Snape leaned a little closer. “My...my...my Potter,” Snape drawled, “I do believe that those exceptional Potionmaking skills that you shamelessly flaunted last year, have suddenly derserted you?” Snape smirked. “Hmmm...could it be that this year's Potion's Manual, is not quite as...shall we say... informative as the one from last year?”

Harry's face heated up with embarassment. Most of the class, however, was more interested in the interplay between Snape and Harry, and even those who paid attention to Snape's reference to the Half Blood Prince's Potion's Manual, didn't understand the jibe. Hermione did, of course, and was mortified on Harry's behalf. Even though she had thoroughly disapproved of Harry's illicit use of the Half-Blood Prince’s Potion's manual, Hermione was furious that Snape was using Harry's lack of judgement to publicly humiliate him..

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration, and fought back the urge to throttle the man. Of course, Harry wouldn't have stood a chance against the larger, more experienced wizard, but it satisfied his desire for exacting revenge against his father-- to imagine his hands wrapped around the greasy git's scrawny throat!

Harry's sigh of relief, at the bell ringing to signal the end of class, was cut short when a cold voice halted his attempt to rise from his seat.

“Where do you think you're going, Potter?” Snape fixed Harry with an icy glare. “I do believe that we need to finish our earlier conversation about respect.

Hermione looked at Harry sympathetically and reluctanly left him to Snape.

Draco let his Slytherin mates advance, pretended to drop his books and took his sweet time to gather them up, so that he could evesdrop on Harry and Snape once again.

Snape crossed his arms and glared at Harry. “So Potter...here we are again. Having the same conversation that we've had for the past six years,” Snape said softly. “Your flagrant disregard for authority, your disrepect and your determination to flout the rules.”

Harry's face turned red with the effort to seal his lips. He pressed his lips together and gripped the side of the desk tightly until his knuckles ached.

Snape began to slowly pace the classroom. “Since you are already serving detention with me until the end of term, I have decided to to overlook your most recent bout of insolence.”

Harry's jaw dropped. Snape letting him off? No....he must have misunderstood. Snape never overlooked an opportunity to punish his favourite scapegoat.

Snape halted in mid-stride and turned to glare at Harry. “However,” he began forbiddingly, “keep in mind that should the need arise to have this conversation again, I will be forced to place you on restriction. This includes being prohibited from participating in Quidditch, and revoking your Hogsmeade priviledges.” Snape stoppped before Harry and put both hands on his desk. “Is that clear, Mr. Potter?

Harry wanted desperately to spit in the git's face, but managed to control his rising temper. Of course, his bleeding tongue was the casualty.

“Yeah,” Harry spit out finally.

Snape raised his eyebrow menacingly.

“Yes sir,” Harry said reluctantly.

Snape looked as though he was gloating. He must be thinking that he's beaten Harry Potter into submission, Harry thought resentfully.

“Now be off. I do believe that you have Transfiguration next.” Snape smirked at Harry. “We wouldn't want you to be late, now would we?” Snape said maliciously.

It was as if Harry had no control of his own actions anymore and definitely not his mouth. “Well at least McGonagall wouldn't throw me out of class or deduct fifty points,” Harry sneered.

Snape shot him a warning glance.

Harry flung open the door and scurried out before his big trap could get him into any more trouble.

Draco was thrown on his arse with the force of the door.

Harry glared at the blond boy. “What the hell were you doing, Malfoy?” He asked suspiciously.

Draco recovered quickly, and rose to his feet. “I came to see Professor Snape,” Draco snickered, “or should I say your Daddy.”

Harry's anger got the better of his common sense and he threw a punch at Malfoy, leaving a stunned Draco nursing a soon-to-be black eye.

Ah...revenge is so sweet, Harry thought blissfully. This must have been how Hermione felt in third year, when she had punched Malfoy's smug face.

“What is the meaning of this?” a silky voice demanded behind him.

Oh Merlin...Snape! Just what I don't need right now, Harry thought miserably.

Draco looked up at Snape, his hand cupped over his eye. “Potter hit me sir...for no reason!” He whined pitifully.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Snape glared at Harry. “Is this true,Mr. Potter?”

“The little ferret was evesdropping on our conversation, and he-” Harry began angrily.

“Did you...or did you not hit Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter?” Snape demanded forcefully.

“Yes, but-,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“That's yes sir to you,” Snape warned, giving Harry his fiercest glare.

“Yes sir,” Harry said wearily. He just didn't have any more fight left in him. It was a losing battle anyway.

“Report to Madame Pomfrey Draco.” Snape turned to fix Harry with his cold black gaze. “I'll deal with you later. Get to class...now,” he ordered coldly.

Snape watched the two go to their respective destinations.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. Remind me again why I'm teaching these snot-nosed brats, Snape thought wretchedly. Oh...right...it's all Minerva's fault!

----

Minerva shot Harry an irritated look as Harry attempted to unobtrusively enter the classroom, ten minutes after the bell had already rung.

“You are late, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said, stating the obvious. “Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness.”

Harry gnashed his teeth in frustration. Not bloody well her too, he thought angrily. Of course the way that she had been acting of late, Harry realised that he should have expected this.

“Snape, the bloo-, uh- Snape kept me after class, Professor,” Harry explained with a clenched jaw.

“That's Professor Snape to you, Mr. Potter,” she flashed a annoyed look at him, “and just why did Professor Snape keep you after class?” McGonagall raised her eyebrow.

“Uh-no reason Professor, the greasy-, uh- Professor Snape just wanted to discuss my potion with me ma'am,” Harry lied smoothly.

McGonagall looked at Harry disbelievingly and pointed to his desk. “Sit Potter, you've already disrupted the class enough,” she snapped.

Of course, the Slytherins were whispering and snickering amongst themselves. Some threw him nasty looks. Obviously, word spread quickly that he had punched Malfoy, Harry thought with sickening realisation. Of course, foolish Gryffindor bravery wouldn't allow him to show a flicker of fear. He glared at the Slytherins with a cocky look that said, you want to take me on... go for it. I'll make mince-meat out of you!

Harry took a seat beside Ron and Hermione. Ron looked at Harry sympathetically and Hermione huffed in exasperation. Honestly, she thought, what was wrong with Harry lately? Skipping classes, talking back to teachers...lying! Her worry was growing steadily with each passing day and Hermione decided that perhaps it was time to talk to McGongall about her suspicions.

The rest of the class passed in a blur for Harry. He couldn't quite get the whole ordeal with Malfoy and Snape off of his mind. One thing was for sure, Harry did not regret punching Malfoy. Harry was not usually a vindictive person, but it was as though six years of enduring Malfoy's snobbish, malicious taunts and harrassment had culminated in that one gratifying punch to the prat's smug face.

Harry had a strong hunch that Malfoy was somehow responsible for the leak to the Prophet, and a whole new wave of fury coursed through Harry at this thought. His now fisted hand just itched to wallop the bloody prat again...till he begged for mercy. Harry thought back to the Secumtempra that he had cursed Malfoy with last year and as much as he had regretted using such a dark spell on the Slytherin at the time, Harry was now contemplating what other hexes he could throw at his nemesis, without being sent to Azkaban, or being expelled! Of course, Harry was steadily reaching the point where anger and frustration were beginning to overule his sense of good judgement and reasoning and he knew that he was reaching his boiling point... and that could only mean trouble.

“Mr. Potter--stay behind,” McGonagall ordered crisply.

Harry groaned. He did not need another lecture; he was quite certain that he was going to get one already from Hermione, if her pursed lips and disapproving expression, were anything to go by.

Ron gave him a supporting pat on the arm, Hermione gave him an admonishing look, before they took their leave.

McGonagall motioned for Harry to sit back down.

“I'm going to be late for Defence, Professor,” Harry began, attempting futilely to delay the reprimand that he knew was forthcoming.

“As I'm aware of your recent lack of regard for time restraints Mr. Potter,” McGonagall narrowed her eyes, “and of your total lack of respect and disregard for your Professors' authority, I would advise you to take your seat, seal your flapping lips and listen to what I have to say.”

Harry flopped into his seat and steeled himself for the proper dressing down he knew McGonagall was about to deliver.

McGonagall fixed Harry with a severe expression.

“I don't know what's come over you lately Potter,” she said in a hard voice, “but your list of trangressions grows by the minute and I must say that the disrespectful behaviour that you have been displaying recently, is most unbecoming for the Saviour of the Wizarding World.”

Harry flinched at the tone of disapproval and disappointment. He knew that he had been out of control lately, but he just couldn't pinpoint the root of the problem. Not that he didn't have reason enough to be totally barmy with all that he had had to cope with in recent weeks, but Harry had dealt with worse in the past and had not gone totally mental—so what had changed?

“Mr Potter!” McGonagall said sharply, “I expect an explanation—a truthful explanation of what transpired with your father to make you late for class.

The word father grated on Harry's already raw nerves. He would never consider that man his father. James Potter was his father, not Severus bloody Snape. As far as Harry was concerned the man didn't deserve the title of father, and deserved the respect that went along with the title, even less.

Harry sucked in a deep breath. “Sn-” Harry rolled his eyes, at McGonagall's disapproving expression at Harry's reluctance to refer to his father with, in McGonagall's opinion, his proper title. “Professor Snape,” Harry began again, “kept me after class.” Harry decided to be vague. No sense in offering McGonagall more ammunition for her reprimand.

McGonagall tapped her foot impatiently. “And just why did Professor Snape feel the need to keep you after class, Mr. Potter?”

Harry should have known that evasion was a useless ploy with the stern professor. “I ruined my potion, and we-,” Harry hesitated, “-we had...words.”

McGonagall eyed Harry suspiciously. “What kind of words?”

Harry sighed. “We argued...as usual”, Harry said bitterly.

McGonagall's expression softened somewhat. “Potter, I know that it seems impossible right now that you and your father could ever have a normal relationship, but-”

Harry snorted. “No offence Professor, but Snape and I will sooner have a father and son relationship, than Malfoy’ll marry a muggle.”

McGonagall looked momentarily stunned at Harry's analogy, but she chose to ignore it.

“I really need to get to class Professor,” Harry said abruptly. He really had no desire to continue this conversation and since Defence with Snape was his next class, he really didn’t want to further aggrivate the man. Besides, Harry really wanted to escape McGonagall’s observant eyes, before he had to admit what he had done to Malfoy. Harry knew that he would have to face the music eventually, as no doubt, Snape would inform McGonagall at the earliest opportunity of Harry's agressive response to Malfoy's taunting, but...better later than sooner, he supposed.

“Very well,” McGonagall reluctantly agreed. “But we will continue this conversation later and you will be more forthcoming Mr. Potter,” she sternly threatened.

Harry avoided her eyes. “Yes Ma'am. Uh- Professor, do you think that maybe you could write a note for me. I really don't want to walk in late to Sn-uh-Professor Snape's class.” That was an understatement. If Harry didn't value his life, he would skip Snape's class again. Not only did Harry not want to face Snape after their earlier confrontation, but he wasn't sure if he trusted himself with Malfoy either. He still felt the desire to hex the ferret into the next universe.

“Yes, of course,” McGonagall agreed reluctantly. She had an inkling that there was more to this story than met the eye, and Minerva decided that she would get to the bottom of it. She would have a word with Severus later, because Harry was not going to be cooperative where Severus was concerned. That much was obvious. Of course...Severus' account of the constant battle of the wills between the two, would be predjudiced, at best. Minerva sighed in exasperation, scribbled the note for Harry and pondered the situation between the two hard-headed wizards. Minerva was begininng to doubt that the two stubborn men, would ever reconcile their differences.

As much as Minerva was frustrated with Severus’ inaction with building a relationship with his son, Minerva realised that Harry was not helping matters. What was wrong with the boy lately? The sort of behaviour that Potter was exhibiting of late, was just not what Minerva had been used to seeing from him over the past six and a half years. Minerva realised that he had had a lot to deal with lately, but that wouldn’t explain the transformation in Potter’s personality. Potter had always been respectful...well at least to anyone other than Severus, and he had always been considerate of other’s feelings, and honesty...well the boy had oozed with it. So where were these qualities lately that she had always so admired in the young Gryffindor? I must speak to Severus, she decided. Perhaps there was another explanation for Potter’s moodiness, but the niggling thought that came to the forefront of Minerva’s mind, unsettled her.

Almost as if he’s been affected by something dark…

Minerva pushed the ludicrous thought away and began tidying the room to prepare for her next class.

----

Harry slipped into Defence class as unobtrusively as possible. Of course, with Snape burning a hole in him with icy obsidian glare, it wasn’t very unobtrusive at all.

Harry sat down quickly, hoping to avoid another direct confrontation with his dear father. Obviously the giant bat had the same desire, because other than the hateful look that he had awarded Harry with when he walked in the door, the dark man decided to ignore Harry's presence. That was just fine with Harry.

Malfoy, on the other hand was glaring at Harry hatefully.. His eye was swollen and the pale skin was marred with a black and yellow bruise just beginning to form. Harry knew damned well that Madame Pomfrey could have easily healed it, and Harry was certain that the git had just wanted to exaggerate his injury to gain sympathy, and provoke Snape's wrath towards Harry. Harry glared back, and sent a silent message to Malfoy that far from being intimidated by Malfoy, or even Snape, that the black eye that Harry had given him, was only the tip of the iceberg, should Malfoy continue to provoke him

Snape, as intuitive as ever, noticed the interplay between the two boys and shot a warning glance at Harry. Harry's bravado deflated and he wisely heeded Snape's silent warning to control his temper. At least for the time-being.

“Everyone, rise from your seats and stand against the wall,” Snape instructed. With a swish of his wand the desks and chairs flew to the other end of the room. He motioned for the students to move to the middle of the classroom.

“We will be practicing non-verbal spells once more and I wish you once again to divide into pairs.” As the students made to move towards the partner of their choice, Snape's deep voice halted their movements. “We will try a different approach this time. You will partner with someone from a House other than your own.” There was a collective groan from the students, but if Snape's menacing glare wasn't enough to silence their protests, his dangerously quiet “Enough!” was sufficient to make even the bravest student freeze in their tracks. Snape awarded them one more fierce warning look before continuing his lecture. “By working with a partner that you are not familiar with, and cannot easily anticipate their next move, it will force you to react as in an actual life and death situation.”

Snape swept his eyes around the room, trying to decide what partnerships would best reinforce the lesson he wished to impart upon his students. Of course, it would be foolish to partner Malfoy and Potter; they would most likely hex each other into oblivion.

“ Hmmm..” .Snape contemplated. Finally, he announced, using his wand to point with, ”Zabini and Potter...Malfoy—Granger, Weasley and...Parkinson...” Snape continued his pacing and picking partners, carefully weighing his choices.

The students however, looked at each other hesitatingly. None of them were too pleased with the partners that were chosen for them.

“Well...what are you waiting for?” Snape asked angrily. “Move. NOW!” he commanded harshly.

The students hastily obeyed the command and scrambled to divide into the partnerships they were ordered to.

Blaise and Harry glared at each other with hostility. Before Harry had a chance to prepare himself, Zabini threw a jelly-leg curse at Harry. But unbeknownst to Blaise, Harry had been practicing non-verbal spells since last year, and along with his superb Defence skills, Harry easily blocked the hex. Blaise was no match for Harry, who had been defending himself against the threat of mortal danger since he was a baby! Blaise threw a malevolent look at Harry, and attempted again and again to best the young Gryffindor...to no avail.

Severus was impressed despite himself. As infuriatingly cocky and arrogant as Potter was, Severus felt a flash of something he couldn't quite define the source of. Pride? Came the unbidden thought. NO! Definitely not! He would not admit that he was impressed by Potter's skill, he barely could admit that the boy was his own flesh and blood. Nonetheless, Severus couldn’t deny the surge of satisfaction he felt, nor could he hide the smirk that appeared on his face when Potter blocked a particularly vicious hex and sent it back, throwing Zabini back into the wall and landing the furious Slytherin on his arse.

As the class progressed, and it was Harry's turn to hex Zabini, it was clear that the Slytherin was slowly becoming enraged that he was unable to block Harry's hexes.

“Just wait Potter,” Blaise said through gritted teeth. His face was flushed with rage, and he clenched his fists in anger. “One day when you're least expecting it,” he threatened under his breath.

Malfoy, who was standing next to them, turned his head at Zabini's threat, and added one of his own. In between blocking Hermione's expert hexes, he threatened in a low smooth voice, so that Snape wouldn't hear, “Yeah, one day when Daddy won't be there to protect you.”

Severus, who had been inconspicuously studying his son’s actions since the beginning of class, noticed with concern, although he told himself it was out of worry for his Slytherins, that Potter’s demeanour was becoming rather agressive, and it appeared that his control was weakening As often in the past as he had accused Potter of being spoiled or arrogant; Severus had to admit to himself that the boy had never been malicious.

Yes, the boy had exhibited signs of Severus’ own volatile temper, but it had always been Potter’s sense of Gryffidor nobility that landed him into trouble. However, Severus had for some time now, been seeing a gradual change in the boy’s temperment. Severus’ intuition told him that something just wasn’t right. Potter’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, and he was holding himself rigid, clenching his fists; obviously the boy was becoming more and more enraged. Something clicked in the back of Severus’ mind, reminding him of another time and place. There was definitely something off with Potter; of that Severus was certain.

Harry felt his head spinning...he could feel the blood rushing to his face. Once again, Harry was powerless to fight against the forces that seemed to have taken control of him lately. He is just like Lucius. He is just like Belatrix. They killed Sirius. They've all taken everything away from you. He deserves to pay for what he's done to you.

It was as though it was someone else's arm that pointed his wand at Malfoy. It was surely someone else's lips that formed the words...”Cruc-”

But with lightning speed and a flick of his wand, Harry's wand flew into Severus' upheld hand.

"Class dismissed," Snape announced coolly to the confused students.

Malfoy darted a suspicious look between Snape and Harry and reluctantly left-- glaring at Harry on the way out. He knew something had just transpired, but he wasn't quite sure what. Potter had seemed on the verge of losing control. Draco was tempted to eavesdrop at the door again, but that blood traitor Weasley and his Mudblood girlfriend Granger were just around the corner. Draco wished he could hear what they were whispering about. He dared not be caught listening in again at Severus' door though. Besides, Draco had a sneaking suspicion that Severus would be a little more cautious this time, after Potter had voiced his suspicions about him eavesdropping earlier.

Hermione and Ron shuffled out reluctantly. The minute that they were safely out of earshot, Hermione grabbed Ron's shirt and pulled him aside roughly.

"What the hell, Hermione? Ron sputtered indignantly.

"We need to go talk to McGonagall, Ron." Hermione said frenziedly. "Something is terribly wrong with Harry."

Ron motioned with his hand. "Whoa...calm down Hermione. Harry's just-"

"No Ron, this is not normal Harry behaviour. We've been making excuses for his mood swings for weeks now, but ever since we brought Snape back from the-" Hermione stopped suddenly; as though a bell went off. "That's it! Oh no...This has something to do with the dark magic we used. I just know it does. I warned Harry about the dangers and like his usual stubborn self, he didn't listen!" Hermione said exasperatedly.

Ron gawked at Hermione. "You don't think that Harry's gone....dark, or something, do you?"

"C'mon Hermione, that's bloody ridiculous! Harry's just had a lot to deal with, that's all."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Men," she said sarcastically. "You all just sweep your problems under the rug instead of dealing with them."

"And women try to analyze everything to death," Ron pointed out defensively.

"Are you going to come with me or not?" Hermione snapped.

"Fine—let's go then," Ron gave in reluctantly.

Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him towards McGonagall's office.

----

Harry stared at Snape with glazed eyes; his hands hanging limply by his side.

Snape narrowed his eyes and studied Harry's face intensely. "What the hell just happened there Potter?" he demanded in a soft voice.

Harry's brain was befuddled. He really had no idea what had just taken place. He did remember that he had felt an intense anger overtake him, as though he was under the Imperius Curse, and his limbs had felt as though they were moving of their own volition. As if he had had no control over his free will. Then as quickly as the rage had strangled his senses, it had disappeared, leaving Harry feeling as though there was a lapse of time that he couldn't account for. He honestly didn't recall what Snape was referring to.

"I don't know what you mean," Harry said confusedly.

Dark eyes bore into Harry's own murky green orbs, attempting to determine the validity of Harry's claim. As Severus attempted to delve into Harry's thoughts, it was as though some unknown force was in turn attempting to hinder his entrance into Harry's mind. He knew that the boy was not a competent Occlumens and even if he had been, the state the boy was in would have rendered him incapable of having the strength to block Severus' assault. No, some other force was at work here.

"What I mean Potter is that were it not for me, you would be sitting in a cell in Azkaban right now-- or at the very least expelled from Hogwarts," Severus hissed.

Harry snapped back to his senses. "What the hell are you talking about?" Harry asked, his fury at Snape's accusation, laced with a thrill of fear that he had very nearly done something that he could have been sent to Azkaban for, or serious enough for expulsion from Hogwarts.

"I'm referring to the Crucio that you were about to cast on Malfoy," Snape said furiously. "Remember? The unforgiveable curse, that is highly illegal that you very nearly performed on another student," Snape leaned in close to Harry's face. "Luckily for you Potter...no one else realized what you were about to do."

Harry was gobsmacked! How on earth could he have reached the point where he had lost control enough to cast an illegal curse? Harry shook his head, as though to clear his mind.

Harry began to panic; his palms began to feel moist. "I-uh, don't remember," he whispered.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Well you'd had better get a hold of yourself, Potter. I've covered for you today, but I will not continue to do so. We've already had numerous conversations about controlling your temper, but perhaps you've not had enough incentive. The problem has reached serious proportions; therefore I believe serious consequences are in order. Go to dinner," he drawled slowly, "and we'll further discuss your behaviour at your detention this evening." Snape smirked at Harry.

Harry wanted to wipe the sanctimonious look off the ugly git's face, but controlled himself as best he could under the circumstances.

"Yes sir," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Snape's sharp voice halted Harry's departure. "Oh...and Potter? I would keep this little incident a secret if I were you. Do not even speak of it with your friends," Snape advised sternly.

Snape's normally harsh expression almost looked worried for a fleeting second, Harry thought, but then he brushed the ridiculous notion aside. When has Snape ever been concerned about me, Harry thought bitterly.

Harry just nodded his head. He really had no desire to tell his friends just how close he had come to ending up in Azkaban anyway. Oh Merlin...Ginny! What would she think of him now? Maybe Snape was right about him. Maybe he was just a screw-up. Maybe he just should leave Hogwarts; far away from Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Far away, so he couldn't hurt anyone else.

---

Hermione knocked agitatedly on McGonagall's door.

Minerva opened the door with a pinched expression, full of displeasure at having been disturbed from her paperwork, yet again. She had delegated some of it to Severus, but of course he was already quite busy with his own heavy schedule and teaching two classes left him with little time to handle administrative duties as well.

Minerva looked down at Hermione, taking in her worried expression. "What can I do for you Miss Granger...?

Hermione looked around in front and in back of her, making sure that no one was around. "It's about Harry, Professor," she said in a low voice.

Minerva knitted her eyebrows together. "What about Mr. Potter?" She asked in concern.

"Uh...can we come in, Professor?" Hermione whispered. "This is rather private."

Ron nodded his head in agreement.

Minerva sighed. "Very well," she conceded reluctantly. It looked as though she would have to put her duties as Head of House, and Headmistress, before her pile of paperwork, yet again. She motioned for the two to take a seat.

"So what is this about Potter, Miss Granger?" She asked, as she took a seat behind her desk, sweeping aside the mounds of parchment cluttering her desk. Truthfully, she was glad to have a break from the monotonous chore; her bleary eyes were in agreement.

"Well..." Hermione began slowly. She wasn't quite certain how to voice her concerns without McGonagall thinking that she had gone barmy as well.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall snapped impatiently, "could we please get on with this? I have other obligations to fulfill and I'm expected at dinner in the Great Hall shortly."

Hermione looked apologetic. "Of course Ma'am. I...uh...am worried about Harry's behaviour lately," she blurted out quickly.

McGonagall snapped to attention. So...it looked as though she was not the only one concerned about Potter's uncharacteristic moodiness recently.

"What is concerning you in particular, Miss Granger?" Minerva probed delicately.

Hermione glanced at Ron. "Well, he is happy one moment, and can burst into an enormous rage the next."

"And just why would that concern you Miss Granger?" Minerva inquired cautiously. "Mr. Potter has been through an enormous ordeal; it is normal, to a certain degree, that he would be somewhat depressed and moody."

"It's more than that, ma'am," Hermione said solemnly. "He's got this faraway look in his eyes. I don't know...I just can't explain it. He's not been the same since-" Hermione hesitated.

"Yes?" McGonagall prompted.

"Since he brought Professor Snape back from the Veil," Hermione finished reluctantly.

McGonagall looked startled. Hadn't she entertained similar concerns earlier?

"And you, Mr. Weasley? Do you too think that Mr. Potter is behaving strangely as well?" She peered at Ron over her spectacles.

Ron scratched his head. "Well...I guess he has been a little off lately," he admitted reluctantly, "but I guess it could be because he's had a lot to deal with; Snape and defeating Voldemort and all."

Hermione looked annoyed. "Ron, we've already been though this. It's more than that, Professor. I just know it. Something happened in Defence class today too. I'm not sure what because Professor Snape made everyone leave." She raised her eyes to look directly into McGonagall’s. "Everyone...except Harry, that is."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Very well then, Miss Granger, I will speak with Mr. Potter and see if we can't get to the bottom of this."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank you, Ma'am. I'd feel a lot better if you did." Hermione looked at McGonagall hesitatingly. "Do you think that maybe you should speak with Professor Snape as well, Professor?" Hermione suggested

McGonagall lifted herself up gingerly. "I will speak with him as well," McGonagall assured the young witch.

"Thank you Professor. I hope I'm wrong on this, but even if I am, Harry still needs help. He won't talk with us," Hermione said regretfully.

McGonagall patted her on the arm consolingly. "Don't worry, Miss Granger. I'll make sure that Mr. Potter gets the help he needs, you can be assured of that," McGonagall said this as much to soothe Miss. Granger's worries, as well as her own.

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank you Professor."

"You are quite welcome Miss Granger. Now, as it's almost dinner time, I will see you both shortly." She nodded to Ron and opened the door to allow the two to leave.

Minerva closed the door silently behind the two and attempted to calm her churning stomach.

--

Severus' dark gaze swept the Great Hall, stopping again at the Gryffindor table. Potter was absent, and Severus noticed that the boy's friends appeared to be searching for him. Severus couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more than a lack of temper control that was plaguing Potter. He wasn't even sure why he cared, but as the meal progressed his appetite deserted him.

Deciding that he'd had enough of trying to force down a meal that tasted like sawdust, Severus pushed his plate aside and rose abruptly from his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Minerva do the same, and swiveling his head he made eye contact with her. She motioned for him to come to her. Severus groaned. He knew that the conversation would be about Potter. While he grudgingly admitted to himself that he had some concern about Potter's behaviour recently, Severus was loath to admit it to Minerva, as she would read more into it than Severus intended.

Severus forced his unwilling limbs to obey his command to move forward towards Minerva. He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves to withstand the verbal onslaught that he was certain was forthcoming.

"Minerva," Severus drawled as he approached Minerva, whose lips were pursed in disapproval.

Minerva narrowed her eyes and glared at Severus. "I need to speak with you...privately; concerning your son," she emphasized the word "son" purposely. Not that anything she had done recently had sparked any sort of paternal flame within the cold man. Honestly, did the man have blood or ice running through his veins? Where were the sensitive boy, and later young man, who had been so deeply in love with Lily Evans? Severus had been different then, she sighed sadly. She knew that somewhere deep within those shields that he had erected, lay the man that Minerva knew Severus could be.

She had hoped that the same affection and deep love that Severus had harboured for Lily would eventually transfer to their son, but it was an exhausting process to try and reach Severus, when the man was so determined that no one, least of all his own son, would ever see any of what Severus perceived as weakness, in him. Could anyone ever melt the ice that had formed around Severus' heart? Minerva feared not, but she was determined to try. Harry needed Severus, and as much as Severus denied it, he would benefit from a relationship with Harry as well. Harry was such a kind, sensitive and brave young man. Any parent would be proud of his courage and accomplishments. How could Severus be so blind? No. She wouldn't give up. She would continue to hammer and chip at the wall that Severus had built around him, until she either gave in and hexed the man, or succeeded in awakening the man's capability for love.

Lily was possibly the only person that Severus had ever allowed inside his heart. Harry would be the second, Minerva decided stubbornly. She owed it to that brave young man, who was capable of so much love and forgiveness. He was lost right now, and Minerva knew that Severus was possibly the only one capable of rescuing Harry from a life of darkness and despair; now to make the bull-headed man before her, realize this.

Severus rolled his eyes. It seemed that every conversation that he had with Minerva recently had but one subject: Potter, Potter, Potter. Severus was certain that the gods were conspiring against him. Why hadn't he gone with his first inclination and dined alone; peacefully in his quarters, where he would not have to face a barrage of accusations and Potter-loving dribble.

Severus shook his head. "I'm afraid that I've got a potion brewing Miner-"

"Severus Snape," Minerva reprimanded him sharply, "this is not a request." She pointed a finger in the direction of the exit. "My office. Now!" She ordered firmly.

Severus vacillated between refusing Minerva's request, and his realization that it wouldn't be prudent to refuse a direct order from one's superior. Severus erred on the side of caution. Of course, with great resentment and a clenched jaw.

----

"Have a seat," Minerva ordered as they entered her office. She pushed her spectacles up to the bridge of her nose and took a seat behind her still-cluttered desk. She eyed the parchment-filled desktop with disdain and sighed in frustration. Her worry over Harry was hindering her progress with the ever-increasing amount of paperwork. Oh well, there was nothing for it. Harry was certainly her first priority.

"Now," said Minerva in a no-nonsense voice, "this conversation cannot be put off any further, Severus. There is something terribly wrong with your son and I fear that you are the only one who can put it right." She glanced up at Severus' face to see a brief glimpse of what looked like worry. But as quickly as it appeared it was hidden by his usual mask of indifference.

Severus was momentarily speechless. Minerva thought that he, Severus Snape was the only one who could help Harry Potter. The audacity of the woman before him boggled the mind.

"Minerva," Severus asked through gritted teeth, "what makes you think that I can or am willing to help Potter in any way? Or even that my son will even be willing to let me help him? And for the record, I have no idea what you are referring to or what sort of help you think that I could even offer to the boy."

"Stop playing games Severus!" Minerva snapped. "You know damned well what I'm referring to. I had Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley in here earlier, and they are quite convinced that Harry has been acting out of character for quite some time; with mood swings and volatile displays of temper."

Again, Minerva witnessed a display of concern appear on Severus' stern features, but it lingered long enough this time for Minerva to know that the reserved man was concerned about his son's welfare, whether he wished to admit it or not.

Minerva softened her voice. "Severus, Miss Granger mentioned that something happened in class. Something serious enough that you dismissed the students quite abruptly, and-"

Severus had had enough. He stood abruptly. "Minerva, this conversation is absurd. There is nothing wrong with that boy except his lack of discipline. He needs to control his temper, and-"

Minerva's eyes flashed with anger. "Sit back down. Now! This conversation is not over, Severus. Not by a long shot. Your son is in pain and needs your guidance." Minerva looked at Severus, disappointment shining in her eyes. "What do you think Lily would think of your behaviour? Do you think that she would be pleased that you've not only rejected your son, but have refused to help him, when he needs it the most?"

Severus' stomach twisted painfully. He felt the same shame wash through him, as when Potter had uttered those words.

"No," Severus whispered. "She wouldn't be." His voice caught in his throat. "She wouldn't be pleased at all."

Severus realized with a heavy heart that Lily would be very ashamed of him. He had denied his own son. Their son. He had bullied the boy mercilessly throughout the years; even when he had discovered their relationship--when Potter was in fifth year. He hadn't softened his attitude towards the boy one iota and had never experienced a pang of guilt about it...until now.

"Sit down Severus," Minerva said kindly. She rose and went over to a small table to the far side of the room. On the table was a china teapot and cups. She tapped the teapot, murmuring a spell to fill it with hot tea. She offered the obviously shaken man a cup and sat behind her desk again.

"Severus, I know that it's been a difficult transition for you. To be brought back from the Veil, to have a new life forced upon you, and by your estranged son no less; but the fact remains that Harry is a very disturbed young man and I fear that he needs the type of help that is beyond my capabilities."

Severus studied Minerva's concerned expression. "Assuming that you are right and something is wrong with Potter, what makes you think that I'd be the only one able to offer him the help that he needs Minerva? You are perfectly capable of-"

"I'm certain that he is being controlled by some sort of dark magic Severus," Minerva interrupted abruptly.

Severus was not greatly stunned by this revelation, as his own suspicions had been forming for quite some time now. Potter's whole demeanour had taken on a slightly evil overtone; quite unlike the annoyingly noble and reckless Gryffindor that Severus had grown used to dealing with over the years. Mind you Snape could quite appreciate how snarky and temperamental the boy was being, after all Potter had Snape blood coursing through his veins and Snape prided himself on being the ultimate snarky Slytherin. Yes, Severus understood moody and nasty, as long as Potter's newfound forked tongue didn't find its target in him! However, Potter's recent mood swings went well beyond that of a bad temperament.

Now Severus was faced with a decision. Should he reveal to Minerva that Potter had been about to perform an unforgiveable curse on a fellow student. Dare he voice the words that he'd been trying to forget? It was certainly in Potter's best interest that no one discovered how close he had come to losing control. But Severus knew that he could trust Minerva's discretion, however, it was still difficult to admit to Minerva that she was indeed right about her golden boy.

Severus sighed. Well...there was nothing for it. "Yes Minerva, I have myself seen...shall we say, disturbing behaviour from Potter lately. Well," he added maliciously, "more disturbing than usual."

"Severus," Minerva admonished, "this is serious. What sort of disturbing behaviour have you witnessed? Can you be more specific?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; oh Merlin, he really had no desire to have this conversation. "At first I believed that it was simply a lack of self-control and discipline. But it has become apparent that it is more than that. It is as if one moment he is his jovial self," he spit this out distastefully, "and the next moment, he transforms into the Dark Lord himself."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Surely you exaggerate?"

Severus fixed her with his dark eyes. "He attempted to cast Crucio on Draco Malfoy in class earlier."

Minerva's face blanched.

"Thankfully, we were doing non-verbal spells and he had only begun to silently mouth the words and I disarmed him of his wand immediately. No other students are the wiser," he assured her. "Draco's intact and Potter is spared a stint in Azkaban," Severus emphasized quickly, when it appeared as though Minerva would pass out from the shock.

"Oh Merlin," Minerva murmured in a shaky voice. "It’s worse than I ever imagined."

"Do calm down Minerva, we will get to the bottom of this," Severus said in his usual calm, controlled voice.

Minerva lifted her eyes up and stared at Severus' taut features. "Do you think this has anything to do with what happened in the final battle? When Voldemort cast the killing curse at him? Or perhaps a part of Voldemort’s soul is still attached to Harry’s and--"

"There could be many explanations," Severus pondered to himself. "I need to research this more. I do perhaps have another theory," Severus said mysteriously.

Minerva looked startled. "What do you mean Severus; what other theory," she probed further.

Severus lifted himself up from his seat. "I'd rather not say right now. Not until I am certain. However," he hesitated, "I'm convinced that I'm right. As soon as I have proof, I will speak with you further." He started towards the door, and stopped mid-stride. He turned around to face the worried witch. "Potter has a detention with me this evening. I will attempt to learn more. However, knowing Potter as I do, he will fight me tooth and nail," Severus said caustically.

"After the way that you've treated him Severus; what do you expect? For him to come running into your arms and yell Daddy," she said acerbically.

Severus directed a horrified look at her. "I would hex him into the next universe if he ever called me Daddy or Dad," he spit out distastefully.

Minerva couldn't help but laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation. "No, You are definitely not the Dad type Severus. Perhaps Pop," she suggested sarcastically.

"Perhaps," Severus drawled dangerously, "It is you, Minerva, that should be hexed into the next universe."

"Oh lighten up Severus," Minerva said playfully. "I'm sure that Harry would never refer to you as Dad, or Pop, but perhaps his old man," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Severus grunted and swept out of the room with a dramatic billowing of his black robes; slamming the door behind him.

Minerva was still chuckling when she sat back down at her desk, ready to tackle the mound of paperwork on her desk. As usual though, her stomach began to churn, and again the worry over Harry gnawed at her, until she gave up, slammed the quill back down on the desk, and went to pour herself something stronger than tea, to soothe her frazzled nerves. Minerva just hoped that for once Severus would handle the situation appropriately and delicately. Yes and what are the chances of that happening?A little voice taunted. Minerva downed the firewhiskey straight, burning her throat in the process.

----

After leaving Snape's classroom, Harry had headed towards the Common Room. He had had no desire to deal with endless questions from Ron and a probable lecture from Hermione. Harry didn't particularly want to see Ginny either, until he figured out how to deal with whatever was causing him to go completely mental.

Harry had kept his head down, and tried his best not to attract any unwanted attention. That was an impossible feat, however, as he passed a group of Slytherins, thankfully not seventh years, on their way to the Great Hall. Upon spotting Harry, they began whispering and pointing at him as Harry rushed by them as quickly as possible.

As he turned the corner, he had bumped into Ginny, the last person he wanted to see. His thoughts were too scattered, and he was too confused about what had just happened, to face Ginny. He wasn't even sure what had just happened. The gravity of the situation was only beginning to hit him, and he needed time to sort out his thoughts on the matter, before he tried to explain them to someone else. How could he possibly explain what he had almost done anyway? How could he tell the woman that he loved that he had almost performed an unforgivable curse on Malfoy? No matter that the Slytherin was an annoying git. No matter that Malfoy himself had attempted to curse him with the same spell last year. He was Harry bloody Potter. He was the saviour of the wizarding world. He was the epitome of light and goodness. He didn't use Dark Magic. Well....except the Dark Magic that he had used to bring Snape back from the Veil that is. But, that was different, he argued with himself.

"Harry," Ginny asked confusedly, "where are you going? Aren't you coming to dinner?"

Oh Merlin, Harry thought to himself. Despite his tortured thoughts, he wanted to take her into his arms and feel her warmth. He just wanted to hold her and draw strength from her; she just looked so damned beautiful. Her uniform didn't hide her curves and her warm brown eyes sparkled with the light of the candles adorning the castle walls. He wanted to run his fingers through her silky hair and-

"Harry!" She snapped her fingers, close to his face. "Earth to Harry. You look like you were a million miles away. Are you alright?"

Harry reluctantly brought his thoughts back to cold reality. "Uh...I have to get something from the Common Room," he lied, "I'll see you in the Great Hall later."

Ginny eyed him suspiciously. "Harry, are you sure that you're all right? I mean, are you ill or something? Do you want me to-?"

Harry again felt the anger rise up from nowhere. He was incapable of preventing it from overwhelming him and taking over. Harry struggled to master its control, but it was too strong...it was too overpowering.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Will you stop mollycoddling me? I'm tired of everyone asking me if I'm all right. I'm seventeen years old. I've been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember. So just bloody well sod off and leave me alone." Harry threw off the arm she had placed on his shoulder and stomped off to the Common Room.

Ginny stood in shock staring after him. She bit her lip to quell the tears that threatened to fall.

----

Hermione swept a glance around the Great Hall, at Harry and Ginny's empty seats and then back at Ron again.

"I wonder where Ginny and Harry are," Hermione murmured as she directed a disgusted look at Ron's atrocious table manners. He was eating as though it was a marathon and he had to stuff as much into his mouth as quickly as possible, or he would lose the race.

"Ron," Hermione reprimanded him sharply, "you are going to choke if you don't slow down."

Ron's face heated in embarrassment. How humiliating to have the girl you love point out what a pig you are. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, (which earned him another glare from Hermione) and put his utensils down, eyeing the remaining food on his plate regretfully.

"Harry and Ginny are probably together somewhere, snogging up a storm," he snickered, "or something else!"

Hermione slapped his arm. "Ron, you are so uncouth," she said haughtily. "I'm worried about Harry. I want to know what happened in Snape's class earlier."

Ron looked at her exasperatedly. "And just how are you going to find that out Hermione? Harry's probably not going to tell you, with the mood that he's been in lately and I'm quite certain that Snape's not going to volunteer that information either" He pretended to be Hermione. He raised his voice an octave. "Sir? What happened that you kicked everyone out of class, except Harry? Oh yeah, that'll go over well," Ron said caustically, rolling his eyes at the same time.

"Ron, be serious!" Hermione huffed indignantly. "I want to know what's going on with Harry."

Ron threw his hands up in the air, "Just eat your dinner, Hermione, and stop worrying so much." Ron picked up his fork and finished his meal greedily; ignoring the scathing looks from Hermione.

----

Harry made his way to his detention with Snape with a heavy heart. He knew that he had just hurt Ginny, and she probably wouldn't speak with him again. It's probably for the best anyway, he thought dejectedly. She deserves someone who has their head together, not someone who can't even control their bloody emotions for five minutes. It seemed to Harry that he ruined everything he touched lately. He had never felt so out of control in his life.

What the hell was wrong with him? He asked himself the same question that had been haunting him for weeks now. Harry wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but he was scared. He wished desperately that he had someone whom he could lean on, someone who would give him guidance. A father? He laughed bitterly to himself. He had never had an adult he could truly depend on, had he? Even Dumbledore had let him down consistently. Harry knew though, that he needed someone other than his friends to help him; someone older, more experienced. Because Harry had no idea how to help himself. He didn't even know what the problem was, so how on earth was he to solve it? And it seemed that there was no one to turn to.

Harry drew in a deep, steadying breath, and opened the heavy door to Snape's classroom.

Snape was sitting behind his desk, flipping through heavy volumes of books that Harry couldn't decipher the titles of. It looked as though he were making notes. He looked up at Harry. "Sit," Snape directed coldly.

Harry took his seat reluctantly, and steeled himself for what he knew would be a long evening ahead of him. Oh well, it's not as though there is anything else to do with my time. It's not as if I have a girlfriend anymore, or friends for that matter.

Severus rose from his seat and came to stand before Harry's desk. He leant back slightly on his desk and peered down at Harry with a stern expression. "Before I set you your task for the evening, Potter, we will first discuss what transpired earlier."

Although Harry knew that he wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation, he was nevertheless dreading the lecture he was sure was forthcoming. Harry knew that he deserved to be reprimanded; it was inexcusable what he had done. He just wished that Snape was not the one to be admonishing him for it. Harry knew that he would get off a lot easier as well, if it were up to McGonagall. She wouldn't give him a million detentions and make his life bloody miserable in the process. He could have handled McGonagall lecturing him; though the disappointment in her eyes would have been torture. On second thought, perhaps it is better to be scolded by someone with whom he had no emotional ties. Yes, that was his father alright. Cold. Like ice. Emotionless.

Severus began pacing the classroom. He wasn't quite sure how to say that he thought his son was being controlled by Dark Magic. Oh Merlin, did he think of this young man in front of him as his son? Lily would be ashamed of you. My mother would be ashamed of you. Severus could not erase the words from his mind. He hadn't been able to since Potter had first uttered them.

Oh...he had tried to pretend that he hadn't been affected by them. He had been furious at first; it had been easy to pretend that he didn't care, but when Minerva had repeated them, Severus couldn't ignore the suffocating guilt that overwhelmed him. He couldn't escape the look of hurt and disappointment, that haunted him to this day, when Lily had seen the Dark Mark on his arm. It was like a festering boil that had grown over the years. The guilt and shame, that lingered on his soul, had stripped Severus of any shred of emotion. He had had to hide far beneath his shields. He would have lost his mind otherwise. Of course, if the Dark Lord had sensed his weakness, it would not have been only his mind that he would have lost.

Now...he had a son. Lily's son. Their son. He had missed so much of his son's life. It was just too late now. His son was grown. He was a man. His son didn't need him anymore. Did he?

He took another look, at the boy—the young man, before him. He saw James Potter. But he also saw himself. He wondered again if Lily had used some sort of glamour, or complex blood magic to hide Potter's true appearance. But when he had seen Potter without his glasses, when he had been unconscious in the infirmary, after the third task, he was quite surprised to find that without his glasses, Potter hadn't really resembled James so much.

As Harry had matured, and his face had lost the baby fat, Severus could see that Potter really looked more like Lily, and if one looked closely, Severus could see that there were traces of Severus himself in Harry's bone structure. Thankfully, Harry had inherited Lily's nose, not his. Yes...if it weren't for those damned round glasses, which gave the boy the illusion of resembling the elder Potter. For a split second, Severus had the urge to rip the glasses off his son's face. Whose idea was it anyway, to get the boy those damned glasses? Why did he need them anyway? Perhaps there was a glamour applied. Or perhaps on Lily's side of the family there was poor vision. Severus shook himself. Enough of these infantile thoughts, he admonished himself firmly.

"You were about to perform a highly illegal curse, Potter," Severus began coldly. "Care to explain?"

"I told you I don't know," Harry began in frustration. "I don't even remember doing it."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Well then," Severus said smoothly,"we have a problem, don't we Potter? Because there is only one explanation for your recent behaviour and subsequent lapses of memory." Severus leant down and rested his hands on either side of Harry’s desk. "You are exhibiting signs of being controlled by Dark Magic."

Harry jerked back in surprise. Then fear clutched at him. No! It couldn't be. But he knew deep down it was true. It explained everything. Harry put his head in his hands.

"No, it can't be true," Harry whispered. "But how? I don't understand."

Severus almost felt sympathy for the boy. He knew first-hand what it felt like to be overtaken by forces you thought you could handle, but discovered, too late, that you were in way over your head. That is what it had meant to be The Dark Lord's servant.

"I believe that it may have to do with the Dark Magic you employed to bring me back from the Veil," Severus said in a hard voice. "I warned you that there could be repercussions. You have experimented with a force that others beyond your maturity and expertise have succumbed to." Severus took a deep breath. "Myself included," he said with regret.

"But I didn't feel anything." Harry said in confusion. "I-"

"Potter!" Snape bellowed. "What part of—You are being controlled by evil, do you not understand, boy?"

"I understand!" Harry snapped, beginning to get angry. Where did the bloody git get off lecturing him about using Dark Magic, when he himself had been Voldemort's bloody lackey at Harry's age?

"Do not raise your voice to me," Severus warned icily

Harry grit his teeth. Git. Bloody hypocrite, he seethed.

Severus glared at Harry, with a silent warning to hold his temper.

"Now, back to the matter at hand." Severus paused in thought. "How we are going to deal with the residual Dark Magic that has attached itself to your magical core."

Harry shivered. It sounded suspiciously like Snape was saying that he was possessed. But possessed by whom? It was preposterous. Voldemort was dead, and the piece of his soul had been removed from his-- hadn't it? Harry was once again paralyzed with fear. What had he gotten himself into?

Harry remained silent. He was sure that it was a rhetorical question, and that Snape had not really expected a verbal response. So he simply nodded.

"I feel," Snape began slowly...agonizingly, "that since you are incapable of controlling this powerful force, and since you are a danger to yourself and others, that until we can find a way to rid you of the Dark Magic invading your mind, we must assure that what transpired earlier--will not happen again."

Harry looked up at Snape suspiciously. He did not like the sound of this.

"What? Are you going to lock me up?" Harry asked bitterly. "Handcuff me to the desk?" he suggested sarcastically.

"You will hand me your wand," Snape stated simply.

Harry jumped up from the desk abruptly. "Like hell I will, Snape," he said furiously.

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "You will hand me your wand, Potter, and you will do it NOW! You will get it back for classes, of which you will only attend mine and Minerva’s; until we can assess and contain the Dark Magic--and free you of its control."

"No bloody way you're getting my wand. Are you out of your mind?" Harry screeched. "How am I supposed to protect myself? What if Malfoy or one of your other damned Slytherins attacks me? What then, Snape?"

"I would say that there is more of a danger of the reverse, Potter. Do you not realize the power that you possess; the danger that you pose?" Snape held out his hand. "Give me your wand," Snape repeated again, more firmly this time.

Fury rose up like bile. Harry whipped his wand out of his pocket, taking both himself and Snape by surprise, as he threw Snape violently into the wall behind him.

Severus lay stunned, with a blinding headache, on the cold stone floor; helpless to prevent Potter from storming out the door. Severus cursed himself. How could he have not anticipated this scenario? After all his years of training, after all his years of acting as a spy for the order, Severus had always been proud of his lightening quick reflexes and ability to ascertain any hidden danger that might be present, and he was bloody well bested by his scrawny, inexperienced, seventeen-year-old son!

----

Minerva huffed in irritation, as the inroads she was finally making into her mounds of paperwork, was once again interrupted by heavy pounding on the door.

Minerva swung the door opened and awarded Ron, Hermione and Ginny with her fiercest glare.

"This is becoming an annoying habit, Miss Granger," Minerva grumbled.

"I'm sorry Professor, but this is very important," Hermione gasped breathlessly. Ginny and Ron nodded in agreement, anxiety clear in their expressions.

"It always is, Miss Granger." But Minerva stood aside and reluctantly allowed them entrance.

Hermione shoved a note into Minerva's hand. She looked up, her eyes were moist; anxiety making her voice crack. "When Ron went up to the dorm, Harry's things were gone, and he left this note saying that he was leaving Hogwarts."

When I get hold of my dear son, I'm going to put him into a full body-bind, Severus decided furiously, as he lifted his tender limbs from the cold dungeon floor. Blinding pain seared through his skull, and he tottered as he fought to stop the world from spinning around him. Again he cursed his new-found son; his fingers itched to wrap themselves around the boy's scrawny neck!

Severus wasn't quite sure how he made it to his lab, but he knocked over several phials of potions as he grappled at the bottles swimming before his eyes on the shelves before he finally found the correct one. He popped open the cork of the pain relief potion with shaky hands, and quickly downed the bitter-tasting liquid; soothing relief gently eased away the pain almost immediately.

Now what? Severus wondered. Right now, he didn't trust himself not to throttle the boy, and Minerva would accuse him of handling the situation all wrong. But dammit, he just wasn't good at this sort of thing. I don't know how to do subtle, he thought to himself. I am comfortable with direct, and forceful. I'm not the mollycoddling type, Severus thought in disgust. No. If Minerva expected him to have a nice fluffy bonding session with Potter, she was sadly mistaken. He would not change his whole personality to have a relationship with his son. Especially not a son who had just hexed him.

Lily would be ashamed of you, thrummed through his thoughts like a chant--repeating over and over again.

Severus grabbed a random phial off the shelf, not stopping to consider if its contents were combustible, and threw it across the room in frustration. The phial cracked against the ancient brick wall, with a pop and a hiss; splattering the liquid on the floors and walls of the lab; the glass shattering, sending minute shards flying through the air. Severus shielded his face from the flying debris, and strangling smoke-filled air, as he was thrown back with the force of the explosion. Once again, Severus lay stunned on the cold dungeon floor. Once again cursing the fact that he had had a hand in the procreation of one Harry bloody Potter!

----

Severus' hand was poised to knock on Minerva's door, when he noticed it was open a crack, and he could hear voices within. Severus almost spun around to flee when he realised that those voices belonged to Weasley, Granger and Potter's little girlfriend, but was stopped in his tracks, when he heard the words, “Harry left Hogwarts.”

Severus knocked lightly on the door, and entered the room.

He smirked when he noticed Weasley's face drain of all colour, and his eyes widen in horror. Granger and Miss Weasley looked as though they would like nothing better than to flee the room. Severus revelled in the fact that he was so easily able to intimidate children. He hadn't lost his touch, he thought in satisfaction.

Minerva looked at Severus with anxious eyes. “Harry has left Hogwarts.”

Severus lifted his eyebrow. “Yes, I heard Minerva,” he answered in a silky drawl.

Ginny glared at Severus. “Yeah, and it's all your fault,” she added furiously. “You provoked him.”

Minerva directed a shocked look at Ginny. “Miss Weasley!” She reprimanded. “Apologize to Professor Snape this instant.”

Ginny gritted her teeth. “I'm sorry Professor,” she ground out, not looking in the least apologetic.

Severus barely held his temper in check. How dare this slip of a girl speak to him in such a manner!

“Mr. Potter didn't need much provocation Miss Weasley,” Sevrus responded acerbically. “He was like a time-bomb ready to explode at any moment.”

“And you were just ready to pull the pin, weren't you Professor?” Ginny snapped.

“Miss Weasley! That is quite enough!” Minerva admonished sternly.

Ginny crossed her arms stubbornly.

Severus' expression grew thunderous. “Unless you would like to spend every night until the end of term in detention, Miss Weasley, I suggest that you seal your lips and keep your opinions to yourself,” he spat furiously.

Ron and Hermione looked on in stunned disbelief that Ginny would have the nerve to stand up to the murderous-looking man, looming over her menacingly. They didn't think that any student, who valued their life, that is, would ever dare to say such things to Professor Snape, the most feared Professor at Hogwarts. Ironically, the only other student who had ever had the courage to talk back to the stern Professor, was Harry!

Ginny ignored the irate man's threat, and continued with her tirade. “You know Professor, all Harry ever wanted was a family. He would have given anything to have a father, growing up; someone to care for him. Why do you think that he brought you back from the Veil? He wanted to give you a second chance, but deep down he wanted someone to belong to. He thought that because you cared so much for his mother, that you'd at the very least give him a chance. But no, you spit in his face, continued to treat him like dirt, despite the fact that you were in love with his mother. What would she think of you Professor?”

Severus' face blanched. “How dare you,” he whispered.

Minerva wanted to reprimand the audacity of the girl, but found she couldn't force herself to admonish Miss Weasley for speaking the truth.

Ginny's face was flushed and her eyes were flashing with anger. “I'm going to go find Harry. He must have been desperate to take off like this. He's probably scared and confused, and feels like no one gives a damn about him.” She gave Severus a pointed look.

Ginny turned towards the door; Ron and Hermione on her heels.

“No... wait,” Severus said quietly.

Ginny spun back around to stare at him in surprise.

“I'll go find him,” Severus stated firmly.

Ron and Hermione shared stunned looks.

“What?” Ginny responded incredulously. “No. I-”

Minerva laid an arm on Ginny's shoulder and shook her head.

Minerva was shocked and extremely pleased at Severus' offer to go after Harry. It was a small, but positive sign that Severus was going to make an effort towards forming a relationship with Harry.

“It is past curfew.” Minerva gave a pointed look towards the three young Gryffindors. “I suggest that you return to your dorms, and I-”

“But Professor-” the trio objected in unison.

“No buts,” Minerva insisted firmly. She shooed them towards the door. “I will inform you when Professor Snape has some news.

Ginny glared mutinously at the professors. Why should Snape be the one to go after Harry? He had done nothing but make Harry's life hell. Did Snape really think that he could make up for all the misery that he had caused Harry over the years--in one fell swoop?

Ginny gritted her teeth in frustration as she was unceremoniously shoved out the door.

“Severus,” Minerva looked up at him, her eyes shining with emotion. “You have to bring him back to Hogwarts. You have to do everything in your power to convince him that he is not safe on his own, and that he needs help,” Minerva pleaded. “It is imperative that you choose your words carefully, and don't alienate him any further.” Minerva looked directly into his eyes. “Let him see what Lily saw Severus. Let him see the man that you really are,” she said softly.

“I'm not sure if he'll listen to me Minerva. I'm not certain that I possess the self-discipline to control my temper when I'm around him. The boy infuriates me with his cocky attitude and defiant behaviour. I see only James Potter when I look at him,” Severus said disgustedly.

“But he's not James Potter. James Potter isn't his father... you are,” Minerva said softly. “Harry is your son; yours and Lily's. Go there with an open mind; start with a blank slate, and pretend that you're meeting your son for the first time. Erase any preconceived notions that you have about him, and allow yourself to get to know him; really know him.” Minerva's features softened. “I think that you'll be surprised at what you'll find. Your son is a remarkable young man Severus. He possesses a strength and courage I 've rarely seen in one so young. You may not think so, but he possesses many of your traits as well, Severus.”

Severus snorted. Obviously his trademark temper, that was for sure.

Minerva smiled as if she could read his mind. “Other than your temper, Severus. Although, I must say, that when that boy is in a snit, Merlin help the one who's the target of his ire,” she said with a smile. “But that's not all Severus. He has your courage, your strength, and of course, your stubbornness,” Minerva said with a twinkle in her eye.

Severus set his jaw. “Well, don't expect me to turn into some spineless milksop Minerva; I am who I am.”

Minerva studied Severus' anxious features. “No one is expecting you to be anyone other than who you are Severus. Try to allow yourself to be open to the possibilities. Reach out to Harry...be his father. All I ask is that you curb that acid tongue of yours a little,” she added amusedly.

Severus shot her a scathing look. “If you think for one minute that I'm about to hug Potter...bo-bond,” he spit out distastefully, “and suddenly, we'll be this happy family, you are sadly mistaken Minerva.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Trust me Severus, I have no such illusions. I fully expect the two of you to continue to be at each other's throat for a long time to come. I'm not naive enough to believe that you two will instantly have this wonderful father and son relationship. It's going to take a lot of hard work on both your parts, and you'll each have to give and take. It will be a rough road ahead Severus, but you know in your heart that it's what Lily would have wanted.”

Again Severus felt a pang of regret; his heart twisted painfully when he thought of how he had let Lily down—time and time again. He couldn't help it though. It wasn't inherent in his nature to be nice. He had been a lonely, bitter teenager and had become a lonely bitter man. How could he suddenly be a father to a boy he had been conditioned to hate? How could he, Severus Snape ever be a good father to Harry Potter? He would have to change his whole mindset towards the boy.

Again Severus cursed Dumbledore for having forced him to deny his son and pretend to be loyal to a psychotic madman. Perhaps if Severus had been able to acknowledge his son earlier, and build a relationship with him…without any preconceived notions getting in the way, they might have had a chance to form a decent relationship. But now? Severus had serious reservations about whether they would ever be able to put their past grievances towards each other aside and build a solid foundation of trust and affection.

Not bloody likely, Severus thought bitterly.

Severus shook himself out of his musings, and brought the conversation back to the subject at hand. What to do about his hotheaded son.

Severus racked his brains. He didn't know his son well enough to guess where he might have fled to in the state that he was in. Where would the foolish boy have gone, where he would have felt safe and secure?

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, to stave off the impending ache that was beginning to form in his head. “Minerva, where do I even begin to start looking for Potter?”

Minerva sighed. “That is a good question Severus. The only place that comes to mind is headquarters. It perhaps would be a source of comfort to Harry. It was his godfather's home, after all, and it is now legally Harry's. Yes...that would be the obvious choice. You should look there first,” she stated firmly.

Severus nodded. A knot was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. He was in unknown territory here. What if he said the wrong thing again? What if he were to make matters worse? It wasn't always easy to control his inclination towards biting sarcasm and downright nastiness. Diplomacy and sensitivity were not exactly Severus' forté. Perhaps he should have let the golden trio fetch their friend back. If the situation was handled improperly; if Severus was to say something that ticked off the volatile time-bomb that was Harry Potter, the boy could flee again and he would be lost to them.

Minerva seemed to have guessed Severus' insecurities and attempted to reassure him. “Severus... you'll do fine. Just imagine what Lily would say,” she advised gently.

“I am not Lily, Minerva,” Severus pointed out bitterly. “I don't have her penchant for saying the right thing at the right time. Far from it,” he said caustically. “I am more likely to set Potter off again, by putting my foot in my mouth.”

Minerva patted him on the shoulder. Severus raised his eyebrow and glared at the long fingers that dared to touch his person. Minerva immediately withdrew her hand, as if she were touching hot coals. Honestly-- this man was as prickly as a cactus. It's a wonder that he had ever gotten close enough to Lily to have impregnated her at all.

“Now, back to to business,” Minerva said in a no-nonsense voice. “You can use the Floo in Albus' office. It is directly connected to Grimmauld Place. I'm convinced that you’ll find Harry there.”

“Finding Potter is the easy part Minerva. Convincing him to come back to Hogwarts will be like pulling teeth. I think I have made an error in judgement.” Severus looked at Minerva with a pained expression. ” “I think perhaps it would have been more prudent to allow Miss Weasley and the other two annoying Gryffindors to go speak with him. He would have been more inclined to listen to them.”

”No,” Minerva responded firmly. “It has to be you. Harry's friends have no concept of the danger that they are dealing with; how dangerous it could be for Harry to be on his own. It is imperative that he be here, supervised by someone who can deal with his mood swings and help him clear his system of this Dark Magic. He needs someone who won't take no for an answer. He must come back with you. You must be firm with him Severus.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at that statement. “Oh, don't fear Minerva. He's coming with me whether he likes it or not. “We still need to have a little discussion about the hex he threw at me”, he muttered to himself.”

Minerva's eyes widened in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“It's not important Minerva,” Severus said impatiently. “I should go as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, of course,” Minerva agreed.

----

Severus picked up a handful of Floo powder, and stared at the flickering flames before him. He asked himself again just why he had volunteered to do this. He really wanted to do this for Lily and for Po-for his son. The guilt was overwhelming. Everyone was right, Lily would have been very ashamed of the way he had treated his son. He couldn't honestly say, however, that he had any paternal feelings for his son yet, but he would try to at least temper his habit of baiting the boy. He could do that, couldn't he?

Severus wasn't actually sure if he would be able to change, but he wouldn't know if he didn't at least make an effort, right? He didn't really want to change, in all honesty. He was perfectly happy being nasty, in his nasty little world. It kept everyone at bay, didn't it? No one tried to get close to him, no one tried to care about him. That was perfectly fine with Severus. After all, if no one cared about him, then he didn't have to care about them. You lost people you cared about. They rejected you. They died. It was much better to not let yourself care to begin with....

“Severus, are you alright?” Minerva's concerned voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Yes,” Severus assured her.

Not really, he thought to himself. I'm terrified of facing a seventeen-year-old boy. Me. Severus Snape. The man who can make children actually wet themselves with a mere look.

Severus couldn't honestly blame Potter if he rejected him. After all, he had snubbed the boy's efforts to bring him back from the veil, refused to acknowledge him as his son; treated him like cow dung. Severus would be lucky if the boy didn't throw another hex at him. Oh yes, I'll be ready this time Potter. Now, anger replaced fear. Yes…anger he could deal with. It was familiar to him. Fear was unknown. The bloody boy had hexed him! Severus still couldn't believe that he had been so taken off guard that Potter had been able to best him.

Enough of this. Are you a man or a mouse, Severus Snape?

Minerva stared at the pasty-faced man before her. Good Merlin, the man looked as though he was facing a firing squad. Honestly!

“Severus, are you alright?” She inquired again.

“Yes,” he snapped.

Severus drew in a deep breath, threw in the floo powder, causing the flames to turn a glittering green and red.

Minerva watched with trepidation as Severus, adorned in his usual attire of flowing black robes, was swept up in the sparkling lick of flames. Good luck Severus. You're going to need it, she thought to herself as she crossed her fingers.

----

Severus swept the soot from his crisp black robes, and glanced around the empty parlour. It hadn't changed much, had it? It was still dreary and dilapidated. The walls were stained yellow, the paint peeling; the carpet old and frayed. There was no sign of Potter, and Severus was loathe to explore the many rooms of the house of Black.

The sounds of shattering glass startled Severus' introspection. It came from the kitchen, he realised. He made his way slowly, cautiously-- wand at the ready, for any sign of trouble. Stealthily, he advanced, prepared for any eventuality... Except one.

What he saw when he entered the kitchen, made Severus want to throttle the young fool before him-- within an inch of his life. Sitting at the kitchen table, arms splayed before him, head resting on the tabletop, surrounded by various bottles of alcoholic beverages, including the liquid fire known as fire-whiskey; the floor littered with glass and empty bottles, was a very inebriated Harry Potter.

Severus stood for several minutes simply processing the scene before him. Severus was seething. There was enough alcohol in here to fill a tavern. A man three times Potter's size would be reduced to a blubbering puddle of goo. How much had the boy consumed? If the empty bottles on the floor were any indication, and the half-full bottles on the table were anything to go by; Harry Potter was seriously, dangerously plastered.

The boy had always been small for his age and weighed very little. Severus had always wondered why Potter had always looked underweight and underfed. The lack of height had always puzzled Severus as well. Even before he had known of their familial connection, he had questioned why Potter was so puny for his age, when James was not a small man. But then, he had assumed that Potter had simply inherited Lily's delicate bone structure and height. Still, the boy had never looked healthy, and Severus had begun to wonder if perhaps Potter's small stature, had another explanation. Even now, in manhood, he looked far from being a young man of seventeen. He could easily pass for a boy of fourteen.

Severus was furious with Potter for losing control like this, but his anger was also laced with fear. Potter could not possibly handle this much liquor, and he was in danger of suffering alcohol poisoning. I must get him back to Hogwarts, he thought. And here I was worried about the effects of Dark Magic on Potter, when there was more danger of him suffering the very common Muggle malady of having one-too-many.

Severus noticed Potter's wand on the floor and picked it up. It was soaked in alcohol, and began shooting red and gold sparks, when Severus grabbed hold of it. Anger once more replaced the fear. How could the boy be so irresponsible as to treat his wand so carelessly? Severus was thankful that at least Potter was alone, and had not gone to a bar, where the danger of being inebriated would have been tenfold. The boy could have gotten himself into a very tricky situation, and without full control of his faculties, could have placed himself in serious danger. As it was, watching the boy out-cold, head lying on the kitchen table, Severus realised that Potter was more of a danger to himself right now.

“Potter.” Severus roughly shook Harry's bony shoulders, causing him to jerk upright.

“Wh-aat,” Harry said with a slur. He grappled around for his glasses, which had obviously fallen off of his face. He knocked several more bottles on the floor, causing them to crash.

Severus spotted Harry’s glasses on the far end of the table and handed them to the confused Potter.

When it was obvious that Harry was incapable of putting on his glasses without aide, Severus huffed and pushed Harry's glasses over the bridge of his nose, and placed the arms over his ears. Harry, in the meantime, was trying to bat Severus' hands out of the way.

“N-nooo, le-leave mmm-ee a-a-alone, I ca-can d-oo it-it my-my-self,” Harry spit out angrily.

When the fuzzy haze began to clear somewhat, causing Harry to see three Snapes, he sprang to his feet, albeit somewhat wobbly. “Whha-t t-the hell are you doing here Snna-Snaaaape?” Harry said furiously; tottering on his shaky legs.

“I've come to rescue you from yourself, obviously,” Snape said acerbically.

“Go aa-waaay, le-ave meee aloooone,” Harry drawled, blinking heavily as he wobbled. “Yo-ou're noot wel-coome heere. Th-iiis is-”

Severus caught him before he fell down flat on his face.

“You're coming with me Potter.” With that he swung Harry over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Harry began to beat at Snape's back and shoulder's. Well, as best as he could anyway, hanging over Snape's shoulder and drunk out of his tree. “P-puuut me do-own…gre-greasy gii…giit.”

“Enough Potter!” Snape bellowed furiously. “We are going back to Hogwarts, where I believe a cold shower is in order, as well as plenty of coffee and potions, until you are coherent enough to see reason. Now cease this thrashing around, and shut that trap of yours, or I will seal your lips for you,” Snape threatened menacingly.

Even in his inebriated state, Harry realised that he was at a serious disadvantage swinging over Snape's shoulder as he was. Snape's grip around his waist was too strong, and the man was twice his size, so he wisely did as he was told, grunted indignantly and clamped his mouth shut. Unfortunately, the jostling motion of swinging back and forth over Snape's shoulder was causing Harry to feel sick to his stomach, and he couldn't prevent the nausea from rising up, and-

Severus stared down in disgust at his robes, that were now soaked with the contents of Harry's stomach. Severus flicked his wand, whispered a cleaning spell and his robes were as fresh and crisp as before.

“Severus Snape's quarters,” Severus yelled as he threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace.

Harry was horrified when he realised where they were heading, but his fear of Snape following through on his threat, his traitorous stomach, and his off-kilter equilibrium, made Harry powerless to prevent it.

Before he knew it, Harry was sitting down in the bathtub, jittering from the freezing cold spray of water raining down on him. He sat there spewing a colourful array of expletives towards his dear father.

“I believe that is enough,” smirked Severus. He yanked Harry up by the arm, and threw a towel over his shoulders.

“I hate you,” Harry spit out through chattering teeth.

“Yes well, as much as that saddens me Potter,” Severus drawled; sounding anything but saddened, “we will now begin step two of sobering you up. “Now, as we can't have you dripping water on my clean floor...” Severus cast a drying charm on Harry clothes, and guided, or more likely roughly shoved him into a seat on his couch.

“Stay there,” Snape ordered curtly.

Harry glared at him, through hazy vision. He wasn't quite up to par yet. He was still quite inebriated, and didn't yet have the strength or the presence of mind to protest Snape's rough treatment.

“What the hell is this?” Harry demanded, as he stared down into a vile-looking mustard-coloured liquid.

“It will rid your body of the toxins you have poisoned it with by your over-indulgence,” Snape sneered.

“Well, I'm not drinking this crap,” Harry replied stubbornly. He held out the cup for Snape to take it back.

“I beg to differ,” Snape replied in a hard voice. “Now drink it, or I will shove it down your throat; the choice is yours Potter,” Snape replied maleovantly.

Harry wanted to throw the damned potion in the greasy git's ugly face. Deciding that he wouldn't win this fight, Harry downed the foul-tasting potion in one shot, gagging and sputtering, until it was all gone.

“What did you put in this; it tastes like shit.” Harry grimaced.

“Believe me when I say that you don't want to know, Potter,” Snape said caustically. “Now, this should be a bit more palatable. He handed Harry a steaming cup of piping-hot strong coffee.

Although the coffee was rather bitter; along with the disgusting potion, Harry’s head began to clear and he, unfortunately, became aware of his surroundings, as well as his unfortunate situation.

“Why did you bring me here?” Harry asked angrily. He stood up, on still-shaky legs. “I'm going back to Grimauld Place.”

“I think not,” Snape drawled. He pushed Harry back down onto the couch.

“What do you plan on doing, Snape? Keeping me prisoner here? I'm seventeen. I'm of age. You can't keep me here against my will. I want to leave. Now!” Harry replied furiously. Harry searched his back pocket for his wand. He couldn't remember what he'd done with it. Oh Merlin, he thought. I really did get pissed, didn't I?. Suddenly, what seemed like a good idea at the time, seemed very foolish now.

“And where the hell is my wand?” he demanded. “Give it back, Snape.”

Snape dangled the wand before Harry's face. “I'm keeping this until you are capable of using it appropriately, and safely.”

Harry attempted to bolt out of his seat again, only to be once again pushed back down again by Snape's strong arm.

“For once in you life, listen to reason Potter. Read my lips,” Snape leaned in closer to Harry, until his face was within an inch of Harry's. “You are being controlled by Dark Magic. It's not safe for you to be in possession of your wand right now, nor is it safe for you to be on your own. You have little control of your own actions at the moment, and if I were to allow you to have your wand back, you could lose control and seriously maim or kill someone. How would you feel if you were to hurt one of your friends, Potter? Would you be able to live with yourself, then?”

Harry's face crumpled. It was true. He was a menace to everyone. No one was safe near him. What if he hurt Ron or Hermine…or Ginny?

“I don't particularly care if you hate my guts right now,” Snape continued. “This is for your own good Potter,” he said firmly. “Whether you believe me or not, whether you like it or not, I'm not leaving you on your own until I'm certain that it is safe to do so. You're not getting rid of me Potter, so you might as well relax and stop fighting me, because I assure you I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. All I can give you now is my promise to protect you and stand by your side, until you are well again. Whether you accept that or not is your choice, and we can do this the hard way or the easy way, but ultimately you will do as I say,” Snape said sternly. “So what will it be, Potter? Will you continue to fight me, or will you work with me and help you get on your feet faster?”

Severus felt a pang of regret as he studied Potter's pale, anxious features. He looked so young for his years. For all his proclamations of being of age, for all of his firm belief that because he was seventeen, he was a man now, Potter still looked like a lost little boy. It was hard to think of this scrawny looking boy as a fully-grown man, with his own opinions and the right to decide his own life. Perhaps with time, Severus would be able to view the young man before him as anyone other than the boy who had been a thorn in his side for the past six years.

Perhaps Minerva was right. Perhaps it was time let go of past grievances. Could they ever get past this hurdle and really form a father and son relationship? All he knew at this moment was that his son was in serious trouble, and Severus made a firm commitment to himself that no matter what, he would protect his son, and do whatever was necessary to help him get rid of the Dark Magic invading his system.

The only problem now was, despite the numerous books that Severus had read on the subject, he was still no further to finding a solution to the problem.

--

It was ironic that all it took for Harry to believe that Snape sincerely wanted to help him, were those simple words, I don't care if you hate my guts. This is for your own good. One thing was certain, Snape had never been one to mince words. Yes, he was blunt. No, he was not a nice man. But when Snape made a promise, he followed through. As much as Harry wanted to spit in the man's face and tell him to go to hell, he knew that would only be cutting off his nose to spite his face. Harry had wished for someone to rely on, someone to offer him support and guidance; maybe it was time to allow his father to do just that.

“Fine,” Harry agreed reluctantly.

“Splendid,” Snape drawled. “Perhaps a good meal would not go amiss.” He eyed Harry's thin frame, and the dark circles under his eyes. “And a good night's sleep as well, I believe.”

At the mention of food Harry felt nauseous again. Though Snape's potion had helped a great deal, Harry suspected that maybe Snape was trying to teach him a lesson, and was letting him suffer the after-effects of a hangover. His stomach revolted at the thought of food, and his head was pounding incessantly.

“Ugh , no food,” Harry replied with disgust. “Can you give me something for my headache?”

Snape smirked. “You've had enough potions Potter. Perhaps next time you will think twice before over-indulging on alcoholic spirits.”

“I'm of age. I can drink as much as I want,” Harry replied defiantly.

“Then you can suffer the ill-effects of your foolishness,” Snape said smugly. He went over to the Floo and ordered some food from the kitchens.

-----

Half an hour later, Harry was sitting at Snape's table eating bland-looking broth, and sipping on black tea. Snape was right, Harry admitted to himself reluctantly. The broth did help settle his stomach somewhat, and the tea dulled the persistent ache in his head. Harry began to feel drowsey. He narrowed his eyes at Snape.

“Did you put something in this tea?” Harry demanded suspiciously.

Snape smirked.“Whatever would give you that idea?”

When it looked as though Harry's face would end up in his soup, Snape took pity on him. He rose from his seat, and grabbed hold of Harry under his arms, guiding him to the couch. He gently lay (well, as gently as Severus Snape was capable of) Harry down on the couch, pulling the covers up over the now-sleeping boy, and breathed a sigh of relief.

For now, Potter was safe and sound. Tomorrow the hard work would begin. Tomorrow, Severus had to devise a plan to deliver his son from the clutches of evil.

How Severus would do this, he had no idea. He extinguished the lanterns, and stared down at his sleeping son for a few moments. Severus stared at the young face before him, looking so innocent in its repose. It was easy to forget all the animosity that existed between them.

Severus' stomach churned with anxiety. Again he felt that suffocating feeling of perhaps biting off more than he could chew. Would he be able to help his son? Or would he simply let Lily down again?

Severus retired to his room. As he lay his head down on his pillow, allowing exhaustion to overwhelm him, he remembered his promise to Lily. Somehow he would find a way to help Po-Harry. Somehow they would find their way, and become father and son.

Severus allowed his heavy eyelids to close, and drifted off to sleep... thinking of Lily.

"Potter! Potter! Potter!"

Who's annoyingly familiar voice was disturbing his sleep? Harry opened his eyelid a fraction of an inch and shut it up tight again, when through his blurred vision and blinding headache, he found a tight-lipped, menacing, giant bat-like creature was looming over him.

"Ugh- Snape" Harry groaned. Last night's events rushing back to Harry with sickening reality. He put the pillow over his head and attempted to block out the ever-increasingly volatile Potions master's screeching voice. "Leave me alone, I feel like I've been run over by a herd of hippogriffs."

"Potter if you don't get up this instant, there will be a repeat performance of your ice-cold shower last night." Snape threatened ominously.

"Why can't you just leave me alone to die in peace, Snape?" Harry complained through gritted teeth. Not quite trusting Snape not to follow through on his threat, Harry forced his tired body to sit up.

He peered at Severus through droopy eyes. He put a hand through his already mussed-up hair. "What time is it anyway?" he asked, noticing that the moonlight was filtering in through the small dungeon windows.

Snape smirked. "It is five thirty, and it is time you got your lazy arse out of bed."

Harry glared at him. "Five thirty! No way I'm getting up now, Snape." And with that Harry crawled back under the covers and pulled them up over his head.

Harry suddenly heard what suspiciously sounded like the swish of a wand and dripping water. He pulled the covers down enough to peer at Snape and noticed him glancing towards the bathroom, with an evil smirk on his face.

Throwing back the covers, Harry jumped to his feet with lightening-quick speed.

"Fine. I'm up," he replied grumpily. "But why do we have to get up so early?" Harry whined.

"Because I have classes to teach, and you have classes to attend," Severus replied impatiently.

Harry's eyes widened. "You have got to be kidding, Snape. I'm not going to classes today. I feel like I'm going to puke, my eyes burn like hell and my head feels as though someone's going wild on the bongo drums. There's no bloody way I'm sitting in class and listening to the likes of you drone on and on about how I've melted my cauldron and I'm nothing but an incompetent dunderhead and-"

Snape's narrowed his eyes, and grabbed Harry by the collar, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"If I won't tolerate your disrespect in class Potter, then I will certainly not tolerate it in my private quarters. And while we are on the subject of respect," he said menacingly, "if you refer to me as Snape one more time, I'll reverse the effects of the potions I've given you and I'll make certain that the symptoms from your little drinking spree, that you've experienced thus far, will seem like a walk in the park in comparison." Severus lifted Harry up on his feet and leant in a little closer. "Are we clear on that, Potter?" he asked in a menacingly calm voice.

Harry gulped. When this was all over, he was definitely going to look into some body building potions, and he was going to start lifting bar-bells, Harry decided. He was thoroughly fed up of everyone being bigger and taller than him and tired of being pushed around and bullied, as a result.

"Yes sir," he said through gritted teeth.

Snape surprised Harry though. "You need not call me sir when we are alone, or in my quarters. You may call me Severus."

Harry gaped at him.

"However," he continued, dropping Harry on his feet, “during school hours and in class, you will refer to me as Professor or sir. Understood?"

Harry nodded. Yeah right. Harry just couldn't imagine calling Snape, Severus!

"Now...go eat your breakfast--then get washed up and dressed. We have a long day ahead of us and we need to meet with Minerva before classes begin."

"But how am I supposed to go to class without a wand Sna-" The glare that Severus awarded Harry could have frozen a river. "Uh, Se-Severus?"

"That is something we will be discussing with Minerva," Severus said impatiently. "Now move it Potter; we haven't got all day," he snapped.

"If I can't call you Snape, how come you get to call me Potter?" Harry blurted out without thinking.

Harry froze as he watched Snape's lips thin.

"Harry." The words felt foreign on his lips, but Severus supposed that since everyone knew that the boy was his son, perhaps it was time to drop the Potter when referring to Harry. Frankly, Severus wished that he could forget the name Potter altogether.

"Very well then, Harry it is." Severus agreed reluctantly. "However, I reserve the right to revert to Potter, when I'm seriously pissed off with you. Of course, that is ninety-nine percent of the time," he jeered.

"Alright," Harry shot back. "But does that mean that if I'm seriously pissed off with you, that I can call you Snape?"

Snape glared at Harry.

Uh, maybe not.

"Enough fooling around Pot-Harry," Snape snarled. He pointed to the table laden with food. "Eat.”

Harry's stomach revolted. All he could manage to force down was a couple bites of toast, and a few swigs of pumpkin juice.

Severus eyed Harry's empty plate. "You eat enough to feed a bird." He went to spoon some eggs onto Harry's plate.

Harry held up one hand, and waved the eggs away with the other.

"No, please. I can't eat anymore," Harry groaned. "I'll eat breakfast later in the Great Hall if I'm hungry." Right now, the thought of food made his stomach churn, and the thought of going to classes seemed as inviting as drinking another round of fire whiskey.

"Please Sn-uh, Severus, can't I just skip classes for today? I really don't think I can manage...feeling this way."

"You will attend classes. There is no way I am leaving you down here on your own all day, unsupervised," Snape said firmly.

Harry glared at him angrily. "I'm not a bloody child. I don't need a babysitter."

Severus wanted nothing more to shake his idiot son till his teeth rattled. "Has all that alcohol that you've consumed, pickled your brains, Potter?" Snape spat furiously.

Harry clenched his teeth "Go. To. Hell. Snape. I'm going up to Gryffindor Tower, and I'm going back to bed." Harry stood up angrily, and turned to leave.

Severus' hand whipped out and grabbed Harry by his pyjama top.

"You. Are. Not. Going anywhere." Severus shoved Harry back down into the chair.

Harry attempted to get back up, but Severus kept a firm grip on him, forcing Harry to remain seated.

Severus took a deep breath, and tried to keep his temper at bay. How on earth were they going to make this work? How was he supposed to deal with this mule-headed boy without reverting to murder?

"Have you forgotten the minute fact that you are being controlled by Dark Magic, boy?" Snape bellowed. He was beginning to seriously lose patience with this pig-headed Gryffindor, who just happened to be the fruit of his loins!

"You have ten minutes to get a shower, and get dressed, or I will drag you out of here in your pyjamas," Severus threatened menacingly. He yanked Harry up out of his seat by his collar, and pointed towards the bathroom. He let go suddenly, and Harry almost lost his balance.

Harry cursed the fact that he had been stupid enough to lose track of his wand, because he would seriously use it to curse the ugly git, into oblivion. He stomped all the way to the bathroom.

Harry took the fastest shower in history, dressed as quickly as his alcohol-addled brain would allow him to and presented himself, in just under the allotted ten minutes, before Snape, who was holding a stop watch and tapping his booted foot impatiently.

Snape looked down in disgust at the haphazard fashion in which Harry had dressed himself. Harry's robes were in disarray and his tie was on crooked. His hair was sticking up in its usual stubborn way, and his shirt was buttoned in the wrong holes.

"Honestly, you'd think that you would have learned to dress yourself properly, a long time ago," Snape jeered.

"Yeah well, at least I know that black is not one of the three basic colour groups," Harry shot back.

Harry thought he detected a slight lift of the corner of Snape's mouth at that rejoinder, but he couldn't be certain.

Harry drew back instinctively when Severus lifted his wand.

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Do you think that I dragged you back here from Grimmauld Place, plied you with Potions and coffee to sober you up from your little drinking spree, only to hex you?" he asked caustically. "Really Potter, you must learn not to be so jumpy."

With a flick of his wand, Harry's clothes fell into place, his shirt buttoned up, and even his hair smoothed back obediently.

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. How positively considerate of the man. Snape, considerate? Perhaps not. He was Slytherin after all. He would have wanted to save himself time, rather than wait for Harry to force his fumbling fingers, to obey his scrambled brain's commands.

Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a phial of a familiar-looking potion. He held it out to Harry.

Harry looked up questioningly.

"Can't have you going to class with a hangover, can we, Potter? This should clear your head so you'll be able to perform at your usual remedial level of competence," Severus explained acerbically.

Harry debated whether he needed the relief for his overloaded brain, or the satisfaction of seeing droplets of potion dripping off Snape's overly large nose. Ultimately, Harry decided that he really didn't care to die at seventeen.

Harry popped off the cork and downed the potion, pinching his nose, so that he wouldn't be able to taste the vile-tasting liquid.

Snape rolled his eyes. "If you are quite finished, Potter."

Harry made a face. "Ugh, yeah. Thanks for the potion; I feel better already," he admitted reluctantly.

"Yes well, don't make a habit of it, because I 'm warning you that if you are so foolish as to allow yourself to lose control and drink to excess in this way again, a hangover will be the least of your worries," Snape threatened ominously.

Harry bristled. "I'm an adult and I'm getting really tired of you treating me like a child," Harry replied angrily.

"Really?" Snape asked scornfully. "And you consider it mature, do you, to drink so excessively that you pass out, lose track of your wand, and drown your system with toxic poison," Snape inquired. "You are a wizard, a powerful wizard; a wizard who is at the mercy of Dark forces which you have little control over. Add alcohol to the mix, and you are placing yourself in serious jeopardy. You cannot afford to do something so foolish again. I will not allow you to," Snape said firmly.

Harry clenched his fists, until his knuckles turned white. "You gave up the right to tell me what to do a long time ago, Snape. When you rejected me as your son," Harry spat. Harry knew that Snape was right, but it just irritated the hell out of him when Snape tried to order him around constantly. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

Severus felt his heart twist painfully. He knew that Pot-Harry was right. He had not been there for him. He had never been there for him. He had failed the boy, as he had failed Lily. What right did he have to give his son advice, when he had made so many bad decisions in his life?

But on the other hand, this wasn't about the past. It wasn't about who was right. It was about helping his son get through this ordeal, and it was imperative that he remain strong, and keep focused. Severus' first priority had to be to do what was best for his son, regardless if his methods were unorthodox; regardless if his son hated him even more as a result. But on the other hand, if he were too forceful then Harry would rebel, and would fight Severus' efforts to help him. Severus had to strike a delicate balance between firm, and respectful of the fact that his son was not a child, but a young man; a young adult. But it was difficult to look at Harry, and accept this reality. The boy looked so young, and inexperienced.

Severus knew on one level, that Potter had managed to scrape by in many situations over the years. The blasted boy had placed himself in incredible danger throughout the years, and Albus had encouraged it. While Severus knew that Po-Harry, (damn, he just couldn't get used to calling the boy, Harry) was quite talented in Defence, even though Severus had refused to openly acknowledge it, he also knew that Harry was very vulnerable now.

It was actually dangerous for him to defend himself, lest he lose control and kill someone. Also, in the condition that Harry was in at the moment, he was incapable of differentiating between implied and real threat. He had a tendency to overreact, to take exception with every innocent word that might be uttered. Very much like he was doing now. Oh, Severus knew that he was being rather controlling with the boy, but Harry was not hearing Severus' message. He just didn't seem aware of the dangers that he was placing himself in.

"Po-Harry, I'm not going to stand here all day trying to convince you that it's in your best interest to do what I say. I'm not going to sugar-coat the truth, just so that you can fool yourself into thinking that you don't have a problem." Severus hardened his voice. "You keep saying that you're an adult now. You keep saying that you're no longer a child—well, act like an adult and realise that you have tried to do this on your own, and you were unsuccessful. Part of being an adult Ha-Harry, is acknowledging when you need help, placing your trust in someone who has more experience than you.”

Harry sighed wearily. "I understand that, but why do have to be so bloody bossy? Would it be so hard for you to say please or thank you once in awhile?"

Severus stared at the boy in disbelief. "If you think for one minute Potter, that I'm going to end every sentence with please and thank you, and other such ridiculous pleasantries, you are seriously mistaken. Now, enough of this nonsense. We are due to meet with Minerva, and I refuse to stand here and waste time arguing with you about etiquette," Severus said impatiently. He pointed towards the door. "Now move it," he ordered tersely.

Harry gritted his teeth and glared at Severus for a moment. "Bloody git," he muttered under his breath.

Severus lifted an eyebrow.. "What was that, Potter?" Severus demanded in a silky voice.

"Uh, nothing," Harry replied quickly.

----

Harry was elated when he walked into McGonagall's office and found Ron, Hermione and Ginny seated around McGonagall's desk. They jumped up when they noticed Harry and Severus at the door.

"Harry, I'm so glad to see you, mate," Ron said relieved.

"Oh Harry, please don't ever do that again," Hermione whispered. "We thought something had happened to you," she said anxiously.

Ginny quickly came over and hugged Harry. "I was so worried about you. Why did you take off like that?" she admonished lightly. She brushed his fringe aside, and kissed his forehead. "Anything could have happened."

Harry blushed at Ginny's fussing. "I'm sorry Ginny," Harry looked at her ashamedly. "I just haven't been myself."

Severus rolled his eyes. He had not agreed to have Potter's friends here for this meeting, but Minerva was convinced that the boy needed their help.

"If you two are quite finished," Severus snapped, “we have a lot to discuss, before breakfast commences, and classes begin."

Harry and Ginny glared at him. Harry took Ginny's hand and led her to the seat behind him.

"Now Minerva, would you like to begin, since it was your bright idea to surround me with Gryffindors," Snape said irritably.

Minerva chuckled. "Well, Severus, you'd had better get used to it because you've got a Gryffindor son."

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, I don't have to like it, do I?"

"No, I don't imagine that you do Severus," Minerva said amusedly.

"Now Harry," Minerva began in a business-like manner, "although we do have an idea what the problem is. That is.... your mood swings are most likely the result of the Dark Magic that saturated your magical core, while performing the ritual that you used to bring your father back from the Veil." Minerva paused in thought. "Residual magic, if you will," she explained.

"As I have already explained to you Ha-Harry, the level of Dark Magic that you've implemented was at such a high level," Severus said disapprovingly, "that the leftover magic, had no where to go after being used for the spell, so it was absorbed back into your system."

"So how do we get rid of it; get it out of my system?”

Minerva and Severus exchanged glances.

"I've been researching just that," Severus began slowly. "But so far I've not found a permanent solution."

Harry panicked. "What? You mean I have to stay this way?"

"Calm down, Potter," Severus hissed. "There are several exercises we can employ to keep the Dark Magic at bay, until we can find a more permanent solution. As well, as much as it pains me to even suggest it, perhaps learning Occlumency would strengthen your mind, and prevent the Dark Magic from further invading your thoughts, and controlling your mind."

"Occlumency?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "No way! I'm not studying Occlumency again. Especially not with you.”

Severus was incensed. What was wrong with the pig-headed boy? He was determined to fight Severus' efforts to help him, every step of the way. Severus tried to remember that Harry was not in his right mind at the moment, and couldn't possibly comprehend the extent of the danger he was in, so Severus attempted to temper his next snide remark, with a touch of patience...as much patience as a man such as Severus Snape could muster.

"Potter! Would you get your head out of your arse? You are being controlled by Dark Magic. Has that concept not penetrated that thick skull of yours?" Severus bellowed. "Either you want my help or not. It's about time you grew up, Potter, as I've had enough of your nonsense, I-"

Ginny jumped to Harry's defence. "You have a hell of a nerve Professor. You've made Harry's life hell, you made those Occlumency lessons a nightmare, and now you blame him? You-"

Ginny took a step backwards, because obviously she had gone too far, and the man looked as though he were about to murder her.

Severus' features were taut with anger. "And you Miss Weasley, have just earned yourself detention with me until the end of term, and fifty points from Gryffindor for your insolence."

Harry jumped up from his seat; his fists clenched furiously. "Leave her alone, Sna-"

Snape sent him a warning glare, and Harry who was beginning to learn just how far he could push Snape before he was risking life and limb; judged by the menacing stance, and the murderous glare on his father's face, that he should just shut up and sit down again.

"Fine, I'll learn Occlumency," Harry agreed reluctantly.

Minerva, who had been silent during the confrontation, finally found her voice. "Severus, breakfast is about to begin, and we've not resolved anything," she said irritably. She sent a pointed glare to them all, and motioned them towards their seats. "All of you sit back down, and let's see if we can come up with a plan so that Harry can attend classes without placing himself or others in danger; that is, if all of you can hold your temper for five minutes," she admonished sternly.

Severus drew a deep breath. Minerva was right, he thought ashamedly. It was as if he could not be in the same room as his son for five minutes, without losing his temper. How he was supposed to suppress the desire to throttle his son every time the boy blurted out a stupid comment, Severus didn't know, but he had to try.

Harry was tired and irritable and the day had only begun. He had made a promise to himself earlier that he would trust his father, and heed his advice, but it was harder than he had ever imagined. The man made him want to scream. With every order and biting insult that the man hurled at him, Harry wanted to throw a nasty hex at the greasy git. Well... if he had had his wand, that is.

Harry glared at this father. "Hey! How am I supposed to attend classes if I don't have a wand?"

Minerva intervened. This meeting was fast spiraling out of control, and they hadn’t even addressed the fine points of the plan to aid Harry in attending his classes, and ridding his system of Dark Magic.

"You will have your wand for classes Harry, and Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will be there to help you should you begin to feel out of control. Miss Granger is in all of your classes, therefore she will be able to keep an eye on you and-" Harry took exception to the phrase "keep an eye on you", and at his glare, Minerva rephrased her wording. "Help you, should you feel the need arise," she corrected.

"Enough of this mollycoddling, Minerva," Severus retorted impatiently. "Stop trying to gloss over the truth." Severus fixed his cool black gaze on Harry. "You cannot be trusted to be alone right now. We've been through this before. Now...We will proceed like this for the time-being, making sure that Po-Harry is never alone, and supervised at all times."

Harry thought he knew the answer to this question, but asked it anyway. "Can I stay in the Tower with my friends?"

Severus lifted his eyebrow. "What do you think Potter?”

Harry sighed. "And just where will I be staying?" he inquired, again knowing the unwanted answer.

Severus glared at his son. Why the hell did the boy insist on asking such inane questions?

"How long do I have to stay with you?" Harry whined pitifully.

"Until you grow wings," Severus drawled sarcastically. "How the hell long do you think you idiot-boy?" he snapped.

Ginny bit her lip to refrain from slapping the man. She was in enough trouble as it was, and McGonagall's warning look to control her temper, had little effect on dampening her rising fury with this man. Poor Harry! Why did Snape of all people have to be his father? Why couldn't it have been someone calm and controlled? Someone who treated Harry with respect and patience.

That's the least that Harry deserved after all the pain he had suffered, wasn't it? Ginny knew though, that as much as she detested the man, that Snape was the only one who could truly help Harry, and as ill-tempered as the man was, when he promised to stand by Harry and find a way to rid Harry of the Dark Magic that had tainted his soul, then Ginny knew that at least he could be trusted to do so. He may be a git. He may be an arse hole, but Severus Snape never broke a promise, and was a strong, and powerful wizard. Also the man was well-versed in the intricacies of Dark Magic, and was very talented in Defence. Yes, Ginny held back her inclination to hex the man, and did so for Harry's sake.

"As well, I will continue to research how to reverse the effects of the Dark Magic," Severus continued thoughtfully. "Perhaps Miss Granger will agree to help in this quest."

All heads turned in shock at this unexpected request.

"Uh- of course sir. Anything I can do to help Harry," Hermione stuttered.

"Good. Now I think that we should terminate this meeting and proceed to the Great Hall for breakfast,” Severus concluded.

Ginny, took Harry's hand and began to lead him out the door.

"Oh, and Miss Weasley," Severus drawled.

Ginny swirled around.

"Don't forget your detention with me this evening. Potions classroom, directly after dinner," he said smugly.

Ginny gritted her teeth. What a git.

Ginny turned to leave again, clamping her lips shut; not quite trusting herself not tell the horrid man, where he could stuff it.

"Oh, and Miss Weasley, wear old clothes. You wouldn't want to ruin your good ones when you're dicing flobberworms, and disemboweling frogs.”

Ooh, Ginny gritted her teeth. How she hated this man.

"Oh, and Potter, I do believe that you still owe me a few detentions as well," Severus added.

Harry gaped at him. "Hey, I shouldn't be held responsible for my actions. I was under the influence of Dark Magic, don't forget," Harry said indignantly.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry. "So, you were. Very well then, Potter, I will suspend your detentions," he allowed. "However-" he narrowed his eyes, "-don't think I will accept that as an excuse in the future. You are on notice, Potter, that I expect you to be on time for class, keep a respectful face, keep up with your assignments, and allow your friends to keep you out of trouble. You have a certain responsibility here as well."

"Now be off, before I change my mind," he added maleovantly. "Oh, and Potter. You will return to my quarters before curfew, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Harry agreed. Harry was quite anxious to be away from his father's continuous watch. It was becoming quite tiresome. Even if he knew that it was for his own good.

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand in a rather painful grip, and dragged him out the door.

Ron and Hermione looked over expectantly.

"We'll meet you in the Great Hall," Harry said, nodding to them.

Hermione looked hesitant. "It's okay, Hermione," Harry assured her. "Ginny will take good care of me." Harry winked.

"He'll be fine, Hermione." Ron sent a knowing look at her.

"But Professor Snape said we're to keep an eye on him at all times." She objected.

"I'm perfectly capable of watching over Harry," Ginny huffed.

Ron dragged a still reluctant Hermione off in the direction of the Great Hall.

----

Ginny looked at Harry regretfully. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know that he's your father and everything, but he makes me so angry," she huffed in exasperation.

"Hey don't hold back on my account," Harry assured her." It's not like he could win any father of the year awards. I know that."

"Let's stop talking about Snape, and start talking about us," Harry said teasingly.

For some strange reason, Harry felt suddenly light-hearted; he felt more in control than he had in days. Harry was reluctant to admit it, but he felt a certain amount of security now that Snape had taken charge. Harry wasn't sure why he felt safe; but he did. Even if his father was a git, Harry felt a certain amount of calm knowing that he wasn't alone in this. For once in his life, Harry felt that he had an adult who he could rely on. However strange it was, Harry knew that Snape wouldn't let him down; Snape wouldn't relent until he found a solution to this problem Despite all of the past animosity between them, Harry sensed that Snape, in his own twisted way, was trying to make up for past mistakes, and was attempting to forge a relationship with Harry; albeit a dysfunctional one!

Harry grabbed Ginny and kissed her hungrily. "You know, Ginny, I've already eaten, I'm not really very hungry. Well, at least not for food," he added playfully.

"Harry," Ginny looked mildly shocked. "We've got classes!"

"Aw, you're no fun," he joked. "Maybe after classes?" He played with a lock of her silky hair.

"I've got detention with your dear father, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry replied guiltily. "I'm sorry about that Gin. I know that you were just trying to defend me."

"Aw, it's ok Harry. I guess I really shouldn't have spoken to a professor like that, and I've never done it before, but I just can't get past the way that he's treated you all these years. And he acts so high and mighty now, like he just has the right to order you around, and you're supposed to obey his every command," she fumed.

"Ginny, it's fine. It really is," Harry consoled her. "I appreciate you defending me, but as much of a wanker as Snape can be at times, he was there for me when I needed him. He found me at Grimauld Place ... ok so he threw me over his shoulder like a bloody sack of potatoes, but he gave me coffee and potions to sober me up; never mind that the git threw me in an ice-cold shower, oh and took my wand away, so I wouldn't harm myself, or anyone else. Speaking of wands, who has mine? Hey he didn't give me my wand back," Harry realised suddenly. "How the hell am I supposed to go to class without a wand, you bloody, sodding ugly bat? “Oh... and he promised that he would protect me and stand by my side. But then again, he also threatened to put me in a full body-bind. But he's taking the time to research this Dark Magic thing so I can get better, and-"

"Whoa, Harry, slow down. What on earth are you going on about?" Ginny stared at him in confusion. "First of all, what do you mean, he sobered you up?" She narrowed her eyes at him accusingly.

"Uh well...I got kinda got plastered at Grimmauld Place," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I was depressed, and scared of what was happening to me. I sorta passed out, lost track of my wand, and then Snape showed up. He was really furious that I got so drunk."

"No offence, but I actually don't blame him, Harry," Ginny said disapprovingly. "It really isn't safe for you to more out of control of your actions, than you already are," she said sternly.

"I know. That's what Snape said too. Believe it or not Ginny, but he actually looked worried about me." At Ginny's disbelieving look, Harry took her hands in his. "I know that he was a git to you just now Ginny, but I trust him. I know that he's going to find a solution to this mess. I mean if he really didn't give a damn, why would he be taking the time to research this Dark Magic, and let me stay in his quarters? I mean Snape is a man who values his privacy. He can't really enjoy having me there underfoot," Harry said with conviction.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that he was actually defending Snape. He, Harry Potter was taking Snape's side; defending him staunchly to his girlfriend, and believing with all his heart, everything that he was saying.

"I suppose you're right," Ginny admitted reluctantly. "Don't get me wrong. I am glad that you have someone now, Harry, and I hope that you're right about him You'd better be right about him. Cause if he hurts you, I'm gonna box his ears."

Harry chuckled. It felt good to laugh. Like a release. Then a wave of fear washed over him. He knew that this euphoria was only temporary. It was only a matter of time before his mind was haunted with Dark thoughts once more. Harry did believe what he had told Ginny. He did trust Snape, but there was that little niggle of worry, at the back of his mind, that trusting Snape wouldn't be enough. That this Dark Magic would continue to grow and fester, until he had lost his soul or his mind; whichever came first.

Harry tried to push his negative thoughts to the back of his mind. He knew that these insecurities were all part of the Dark Magic that was invading his mind, and attempting to force him to doubt himself, and believe that everyone was against him. Harry knew that that wasn't true. No, he had his friends, he had his girlfriend, and McGonagall. Most of all though, he had a father now.

Snape might not be concerned about Harry's feelings, but it was beginning to be obvious, at least to Harry, that Snape cared about his welfare. Oh, the man would never admit it, of course, but in his gruff, nasty way, it was plain to see. It might not be clear to anyone else, but Harry had learnt through all the neglect and abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, to recognize small gestures of kindness or caring. Although no one would ever accuse Snape of being kind, Harry could see that the man was genuinely trying to make an effort. Of course with Snape acting like a git to everyone, it was a hard to convince anyone else.

"C'mon Gin, you'd better go eat breakfast, and I've got potions right away with Snape--first period." Despite his somewhat positive outlook on the future, it did still seem like there were many obstacles to overcome before he was himself again. Suddenly depression overwhelmed him once more, and as much as Harry attempted to put on a brave face for Ginny, she immediately sensed the sudden shift in Harry's mood.

Ginny squeezed his hand. "It'll be alright Harry, you'll see," she said gently.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said with a confidence that he didn't feel.

----

After breakfast, Hermione and Harry made their way to Potions reluctantly. Hermione yanked Harry back before they stepped through the door.

"Your wand," she whispered, and handed it to him discreetly. Harry put it in his robe pocket, feeling decidedly more secure.

As they were about to enter the classroom, Draco came barreling around the corner, and shoved hard into Harry, almost knocking him over.

Fury rose up in Harry, as quickly and as dangerously as lava flowing from a volcano. Without a thought to the consequences, Harry whipped his wand out of his pocket, and would have hexed Malfoy, weren't it for Hermione's quick thinking.

"Harry!" Hermione said in horror, while firmly restraining Harry's arm.

Harry immediately snapped out of his trance. He still felt an enormous desire to curse the prat though, and with his control hanging by a thread, if it hadn't been for Hermione, Harry would have done so.

"Is there a problem here?" Snape's deep voice interrupted.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be a lot harder than she had envisioned. Once the Dark Magic had completely taken control of Harry, it was a difficult feat to pull Harry out of it.

"Yes, and he's right there," Harry ground out, pointing an accusing finger towards Malfoy. "He shoved into me on purpose."

"Is that so, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus inquired smoothly.

Draco glared at Harry. "Of course not sir, I simply lost my balance and knocked into Potter by accident."

"That's bull and you know it Malfoy," Harry said furiously.

"That's enough, both of you," Snape snapped. "Take your seats, or you'll both be serving detention with me this evening."

When Harry remained in the doorway, itching to curse the smug look off Malfoy's face, Snape snapped out, "Now!" He grabbed Harry's arm firmly and none-too-gently yanked him into the classroom.

Severus was seriously beginning to question his judgement in allowing Harry to attend classes. It didn't appear that the boy was able to maintain periods of lucidity longer than an hour. How the hell were they going to figure out how to reverse the effects of the Dark Magic?

Now...Severus knew that he was quite knowledgeable in the Dark Arts, and prided himself as being an expert in Defence. It was not a matter of ego either; it was simply fact. However, Severus began to have doubts about his ability to solve his son's problem alone. Perhaps it was time to admit that he needed help. Definitely not something that Severus Snape enjoyed doing. He was used to knowing what to do, and how to do it. But right now, Severus felt completely at a loss as to how to proceed.

“Oh crap, it's past curfew. Snape's going to kill me,” Harry groaned, as he jumped up off the couch in the Gryffindor common room, where he had been cuddling up with Ginny. “I'd better run,” he said, giving Ginny a quick peck on her lips.

“Uh Harry, don't you think you're forgetting one minor detail?” Ginny called him back. “You need one of us to escort you down to Snape's quarters.”

“Oh right.” Harry smirked at Ginny. “I'd ask you to come with me, but I'm afraid you might hex my father.”

“You're father is not at the top of my list of favourite people right now,” she growled. Ginny spread her fingers in front of her. “I think I broke a fingernail.”

“Hey, you got off easy Gin,” Harry pointed out. “He kept me past curfew in my first few detentions, and you don't want to know the things that he made me do!” Harry shuddered at the memory.

“Yeah, well at least you got off the rest of your detentions,” she complained.

Harry scoffed. “So what! I have to live with the man!”

“Ok, you win,” Ginny laughed.

“Yeah, it'll be like having a never-ending detention,” Harry groaned. “You should have seen him in class today. He was on my arse the whole time. I thought maybe that since everyone knows that I'm his son, that maybe he'd back off a bit, but no,” he ground out, “if anything he's even worse! Nothing I do is ever good enough for the git. He nitpicks at every bloody thing I do,” Harry said bitterly.

Ginny looked at him thoughtfully. “You know Harry... strangely enough--Snape is acting like a lot of parents do. My mom is constantly after me too.” She rolled her eyes. ”My grades are never good enough, I need to act like a lady,” she spit the word out distastefully. “Those clothes make you look like a tart.” Ginny huffed. “It never ends,” she groused. She lifted the corners of her mouth teasingly. “The only thing she approves of, by the way,” Ginny wrapped her arms around him, “is dating you.”

“Well, your mom has good taste,” Harry chuckled.

“Harry!” A shrill voice interrupted their banter. Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly at Harry and Ginny. “What on earth are you still doing here?” Hermione admonished him. “Snape is going to be furious with you and with us too.” She worried her lip.”It's well past curfew.”

“Calm down Hermione, it's not that much past curfew,” Harry rolled his eyes. His friend always had a tendency to over exaggerate things. Honestly! The girl was going to give herself an ulcer, if she didn't quit worrying.

“Harry!” Hermione stomped her foot impatiently. “It's already a half-hour past curfew, and by the time you get to the dungeons it will be forty-five minutes past,” she huffed. “May I remind you that your father is the same man who took fifty points off Gryffindor, and threw us out of his classroom, just for being fifteen minutes late,” she lectured.

Harry rolled his eyes at her melodramatic speech. “Hermione, that was different. He was still quite upset with me for bringing him back from the Veil. He might be mad, but it's not like he's going to kick me out of his quarters or anything,” he pointed out reasonably.

“Nevertheless,” she said primly, “I think that you're fooling yourself if you don't think that he's going to be seriously pissed off that you've missed curfew.” She turned to Ginny. “Give me Harry's wand please.” She held out her hand, and glared at Harry. “I'll walk him down to the dungeons.” She frowned. “And hope that Snape doesn't flay me alive for bringing him back late.”

Harry sighed. “Relax Hermione. Trust me; Snape knows damned well that I'm at fault, not you. You're not my bloody keeper and neither is he.”

Hermione gave up. It was pointless trying to argue that maybe Snape was trying his best here to accommodate Harry, and he was not being so unreasonable as to expect Harry to be back to his quarters before curfew. If Harry was staying in the Tower, he'd be expected to return to the Common Room before curfew; why would he believe that because he was staying with Snape, he would receive special privileges? But when it came to Snape, Harry had tunnel-vision. Of course, considering the treatment that Snape had doled out for the past six and a half years, she supposed that she couldn't blame Harry for always seeing the worst in the man, even when he was genuinely trying to make an effort.

Harry's wand in hand, Hermione grabbed his arm and tugged on it.

“Just a second,” Harry said, annoyed. He gave Ginny another quick kiss, and looked at her helplessly as Hermione yanked his arm hard, and tried to drag him out the door.

“Honestly Harry, you are just asking for trouble,” Hermione grumbled. Now it will look as though I'm irresponsible too, Hermione worried to herself.

Harry rolled his eyes at her. “Will you relax? I'm not that late, and if Snape's mad... it’s gonna be at me, not you.”

Hermione was skeptical. “I think that you're wrong. I think that he's going to be really irritated with me, and furious with you.”

Harry knew that she was right and was beginning to regret having been so nonchalant about following Snape's orders. He was dreading returning to his quarters now.

“Well, what's the worst he can do anyway? Assign another detention? Take away points? Story of my life,” Harry said bitterly.

Hermione gave Harry an exasperated look. “Harry, you really must take this seriously. I know that Snape has made a lot of mistakes in the past, and he's not the easiest person to get along with, but he is trying to make an effort to help and protect you, and you're treating the whole thing like it's just a game,” she pointed out crossly.

Harry hung his head ashamedly. “You're right Hermione, and I know that he's been making an effort; I really do. I should have been more careful about being back by curfew,” he said sheepishly. He looked at her worriedly. “What do you think he'll do to me?”

“Hex you of course!” Ginny interjected sarcastically.

At Harry's horrified look, Ginny smiled. “Relax, I'm sure that Snape will only take about a million points off Gryffindor, and assign you a long detention while performing the most gruesome tasks.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”

Honestly! Hermione thought incredulously. How could these two have such a cavalier attitude over such a serious situation?

Hermione glared at them both. “Harry!” She pointed at the door angrily. “Out... Now!”

----

Harry and Hermione came to a halt in front of the door to Snape's quarters, and before they could knock, it was flung open by a very irate-looking Snape.

Harry gulped. Ooh...this was a bad idea. Yup... a very bad idea.

Severus pointed a long finger. “In,” he hissed.

“Just let me explain-” Harry began.

“I don't care to hear your explanations,” Snape growled. “Get in...Now!”

Harry slid by him, looking back anxiously. He really didn't want Snape to lay into Hermione, for something that was his fault.

“Sir,” Hermione began nervously. “I-”

“Hand me Mr. Potter's wand, Miss Granger,” Snape said in a dangerously calm voice.

“Uh... yes of course sir,” Hermione stammered, as she handed Snape the wand with shaking hands.

Hermione looked up at him expectantly. Was he not going to give her hell...or yell at her?

“Just a moment, Miss Granger,” Snape said curtly, when Hermione turned to leave. He retrieved a parchment and quill, scribbled something on it, and handed it to her.

“Sir?” Hermione looked up in confusion.

“Since my errant son,” Snape turned back to glare at Harry, “has placed you in the position of wandering the halls alone after curfew, I think that it's prudent for you to have a note from me, should you be stopped by another professor.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thank you, sir. I'm sorry that Harry's late. I promise it won't happen again,” she promised fervently.

Snape's features hardened. “No, it won't,” he said ominously.

“Uh... goodnight Harry...sir.” Hermione bit her lip. The man looked seriously pissed off and she was rather reluctant to leave Harry alone with him.

Snape nodded and then slammed the door in her face.

Well, that settles that. Hermione looked back at the closed door and wondered with trepidation how her friend would fare.

--

Harry instinctively took a step backwards when, after slamming the door, Severus turned around to fix Harry with his cold black eyes.

“Twenty-five points from Gryffindor,” Severus began in a voice taut with anger. “And you are confined to my quarters tomorrow night. Obviously you can't be trusted to respect curfew. And the next time you are late, you will be forbidden to visit the Tower for a week,” he threatened.

Harry would have protested, but judging by the ill-concealed fury emanating from the man, Harry figured he'd better not test the man's patience again tonight. Harry would have rather got a detention, and then at least he'd still be able to see Ginny when she was serving her detention; even if they were performing some disgusting task while doing so.

Severus was rather surprised that Potter didn't protest his punishment. The boy probably wisely decided that he was getting off rather easy, and had better not further aggravate Severus' waning patience tonight. Honestly, he wanted to throttle the boy. How is it that one small, messy-haired teenager could cause him to lose the iron-clad control that he had always had on his emotions? There had never been anyone who so tested his resolve, as much as the boy standing before him.

“Did you at least manage to complete any of your homework this evening, or did your little girlfriend occupy all of your attention,” Snape asked snidely.

Harry was not Snape's son for nothing. His nostrils flared, and eyes flashed in anger. “That's none of your bloody business Sn-”

Snape took a step forward.

Harry put his arms up in the air. “I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'll do my homework now,” he offered reluctantly.

“As it's almost midnight, you will catch up on your homework tomorrow night. Perhaps without any distractions,” Snape sneered, “you might accomplish something.”

Harry glared at him.

Severus pointed towards the couch. “Now get to bed. You have classes tomorrow, and I’ll not be pleased if you can't get out of bed in the morning.”

“Fine,” Harry yawned. It was late, and while Snape's potions had cleared up the worst symptoms of his over-consumption of alcohol, his body was still weary from the abuse that he'd subjected it to.

Harry went to the loo to wash up and change into his pyjamas. When he came out of the bathroom, Snape had once again made up the couch for him to sleep on, and was extinguishing the lanterns.

Severus looked up as Harry came out of the bathroom. His heart lurched with that strange emotion again, that he couldn't quite pinpoint. Harry looked so much younger than his seventeen years, standing there barefoot in his baggy pyjamas, and mussed-up hair...he looked about thirteen. Severus was hit with a pang of regret of having missed seeing his son grow up. Severus pretended to be straightening up, but couldn't help once again glancing over as Harry took his glasses off, placed them by the night side table, and climbed onto the couch, pulling the covers up. Severus was struck again by the thought that without those damned glasses he didn't look at all like a Potter. Severus swallowed the lump in his throat. He would never get to read his son bedtime stories...tuck him in. He hadn't seen him take his first step, or speak his first words. Damn you Lily...Albus. Damn me too, for putting them in the position that they felt the need to protect my son from me.

“Goodnight, sir,” Harry mumbled sleepily.

“Goodnight Harry,” Severus whispered.

Severus was thankful that Harry was almost asleep, and wouldn't notice how fragile his emotions were at the moment. Severus missed Lily with all his heart. He'd never stopped loving her, as much as he'd tried to convince himself otherwise. He knew now, that Potter was really her second choice, but it didn't erase the pain and regret he experienced, every time he thought about the mess he'd made of his life. The mistakes, and there were many, haunted him day in and day out. It was his fault that he'd lost Lily, his fault that he missed out on seeing his son grow up. Worst of all, it was his fault that Lily was dead. How could he ever forgive himself? How could his son ever forgive him? Severus was responsible for Harry having grown up without a mother...without a father.

Yes... it was damned lucky that his son was asleep right now, because surely Harry would call Severus a hypocrite for the lecture that he had delivered to the boy only the night before, when Severus himself proceeded to drown his troubles in fire whiskey, and staggered drunk to his bed, several hours later.

----

Harry noticed the next morning that his father was even more irritable than usual and his eyes were shadowed with dark circles. His face was drawn, and his obsidian eyes were in stark contrast to his milky-white complexion.

“Let's go Potter,” Severus snapped. “We haven't got all day.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your knickers in a twist,” Harry grumbled.

Severus spun around angrily, eyes flashing. “What did you just say to me?”

Harry licked his lips nervously. “Uh…nothing. I was just joking.”

“In case you haven't noticed, Potter, I'm not exactly in the mood for joking,” he growled.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

Harry glanced up to see Snape staring at him with the same unreadable expression, that he had caught him at several times this morning. When Harry would catch him, Snape would suddenly scowl and turn away. What the hell was going through his father's mind? And why was his father studying him when he thought Harry wasn't looking? Harry shivered.

He hadn't had another episode since he'd been brought to Snape's quarters except for the brief incident with Draco, and Harry couldn't help worry that maybe that was why Snape was examining him so closely. Maybe he expected Harry to explode at any minute. Harry shook these negative thoughts away, and finished straightening his robes.

“Are you quite finished primping?”

Harry gritted his teeth. The man was so frustrating. Snape had proven that he had a heart under that layer of prickly thorns, by housing Harry, taking care of him, and protecting him. Harry had even caught Snape with an ever-so-brief look of worry on his face, but in the next moment, he could cut you down to size with his biting insults.

Harry felt a pang of regret that he had never known the man that his mother had; the man who was capable of deep love and caring. Was there a chance at all, after all these years, that Snape would ever truly care about him as much as he had Harry's mum? Harry wished desperately that things had been different. That he had grown up knowing his father. Would Snape have been a different man today, if not for circumstance? Would he still be the same bitter, cruel man, incapable of showing emotion? Harry knew in his heart that his father would be a different man today, basking in his mother's love. Maybe he would still be cool and reserved, but he wouldn't be bitter, and vengeful; Harry was certain of it.

----

“You look like you're still in one piece,” Ron sniggered.

“Sod off,” Harry replied, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

It was quite hilarious really, Harry thought, how Ginny and Hermione looked relieved to see that he was unscathed. Honestly…did they really believe that Snape was so evil, that he would actually hex his own son?

Ginny smirked at Harry. “So--what did the old bat do to you? Give you detention?” she asked mischievously. “Maybe we can hold hands while we gut frogs,” she added with a sparkle in her eyes.

Harry squirmed. He really didn't want to tell Ginny that he wouldn't be able to see her tonight. “I didn't get detention, Gin.”

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. “You didn't? You mean Snape let you off?” she asked incredulously.

Hermione and Ron exchanged shocked glances.

Harry fidgeted. “Uh...not exactly,” he hedged.

Ginny scrunched her face in confusion. “Well, what then?”

Harry sighed. “Well, uh...I can't see you guys tonight.” Damn, he felt like an idiot; he was an adult now for goodness sake, and he felt like a little kid whose dad had grounded him.

Ron chuckled. “Why? Did Snape ground you or something?”

“Sod off,” Harry exclaimed angrily, as he slammed his glass of pumpkin juice down hard on the table, sending it spraying in all directions. He stood up suddenly, and knocked his chair violently backwards, hitting a seventh year Slytherin behind him.

“Watch it, Potter,” said the angry Slytherin as he stood up and loomed menacingly over Harry.

Harry didn't quite care at that moment if the Slytherin was built like a rugby player; with shoulders a mile wide, and was at least a foot taller than Harry. He wasn't coherent enough at the moment to consider the consequences of his actions. Harry gave the boy a hard shove in the chest and the Slytherin was taken off guard. He lost his balance, and was sent crashing backwards into the table behind him.

Harry didn't have time to escape before the red-faced Slytherin recovered, and grabbed Harry by the collar lifting him up on his toes.

The last thing Harry remembered before passing out from the blinding pain, was a meaty fist making contact with his nose.

“Harry!” Ginny went rushing to his side. “You big bully!” She glared at the Slytherin

“Hey, you're kind of cute. Why don't you dump that little twerp, and date a real man,” he smirked.

“A real man?” she retorted; her face flushed. “You think you're a real man?” Ginny marched over to him, and poked his chest with her finger. “He is ten times the man that you are,” she said through gritted teeth. Oh lord he's big, she thought, when his face turned purple.

Suddenly, the Slytherin's face transformed from a deep shade of mauve to chalky-white.

“Pro-fe-ss-sor Sna-a-pe,” the boy stammered nervously

Severus had swept over silently, and now stood with his arms crossed menacingly, pinning the quaking boy with a deadly glare.

“Is he conscious, Miss Weasley?” Severus demanded in a dangerously calm voice

Severus could barely contain his anger. He had witnessed the whole episode from the Head table, and saw that Potter was about to do something foolish and Severus was hoping to diffuse the situation, before it could escalate. Severus wasn't prepared though for the fury that washed over him when Adams had punched Potter. He wanted nothing more than to rip the Slytherin's throat out. Severus suppressed the temptation, as he had no wish to end up in Azkaban.

“Just barely,” she said, glaring at the Slytherin.

“Ginny?” Harry asked groggily. “W-wh-at happened?” Harry tried to lift his head, but the throbbing in his head intensified, and he felt as though his nose was on fire.

Severus laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, gently preventing him from rising further. “Don't get up, Potter. You most likely have a concussion from hitting your head on the floor.”

“Severus,” Minerva asked breathlessly as she came rushing over, “is Harry alright?” Her face was lined with worry

“I need to have Poppy examine him. I believe that he might have a concussion, as well as a broken nose,” he answered, directing his cold, dark eyes toward the squirming Slytherin.

“You bring him to Poppy, Severus. I'll handle Mr. Adams here,” she assured him.

Severus nodded. “Thank you Minerva. I'd like a few words with Mr. Adams first, however,” Severus replied menacingly.

Severus turned his attention to the nervous Slytherin. “Mr. Adams, if you ever again, lay a finger on my son,” he hissed vehemently, “you will regret it.”

Ginny, Hermione and Ron stared in shock at the irate Potions Master. The man was apoplectic, and they did not envy the target of his ire. What was more shocking was the fact that the man was livid because one of his Slytherins had hit Harry. Harry Potter! The same boy that the man had tormented for the past six years. The same man who just a few days prior, had rejected his son, and continued to treat him harshly.

Severus moved in a little closer, until his face was within inches of the trembling boy. “Do I make myself clear?”

The boy's eyes widened in fear. His Head of House was known for his volatile temper; not a man to be trifled with. He had never before, however, directed that temper towards one of his own house. And, definitely not to defend a Gryffindor!

“Yes—si-sir,” the boy whispered.

“After the Headmistress issues your punishment, Mr. Adams, rest assured that I will be adding onto it,” Severus promised darkly.

“My office. Now Mr. Adams,” Minerva ordered harshly.

The boy lowered his eyes and obeyed the Headmistress, following her with his head down in embarrassment.

Severus turned his attention to Harry. His pale face was marred with caked blood around his swollen nose, and dark shadows under his eyes. “Potter?” Severus shook the boy lightly. Harry groaned in pain, and stared at Severus with glazed eyes.

Severus wasn't quite certain if the boy was even aware of Severus' presence. He didn't seem to be fully conscious. Severus brushed aside Harry's fringe, just as the boy's eyelids fluttered, then closed. He was unconscious. Severus' stomach churched with anxiety, and he felt a flutter of fear.

“It's going to be alright, Potter. Poppy will take care of you,” he assured the unconscious boy gently.

It was surreal, Ginny thought. Severus Snape stroking Harry Potter's hair, and whispering gentle assurances that he would take care of him. She shook her head. She glanced at Hermione and Ron, and knew by the dazed expressions on their faces that they were thinking the same thing.

Suddenly the man became brusque once more. He ordered the students who had congregated around Harry, gawking and staring at him, to move on to their classes. Actually, he bellowed at them; sending the scared students scattering in all directions, to avoid the volatile Potions Master's wrath. The first years looked as though they were going to wet their trousers!

Since Severus' class was the first period for Hermione, he allowed her to accompany him with Harry to the infirmary, and ordered Ginny and Ron on to their classes. Of course Ginny protested vehemently, but Severus was firm, and she glared at him mutinously, before turning on her heel, and stomping off to class. Ron had wanted to stay as well, but had a better sense of self-preservation than his sister, and reluctantly obeyed the still-furious looking Snape, and went off to class as well.

--

Severus gently levitated Harry onto the nearest bed. Poppy rushed over as soon as she saw Harry, and immediately began fussing over him.

“Oh my ...what happened to him this time,” she asked, horrified when she saw his bloody, swollen nose.

“He picked a fight with a brick wall with legs, who introduced Harry to his fist,” Severus spit out. “He also fell backwards and smashed his head.”

Poppy performed a few diagnostic spells, and confirmed what Severus had already suspected. “He has a broken septum, and a severe concussion.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“He'll be fine Miss Granger, but we'll keep him here a couple of days to be certain.” She turned her attention to Severus. “Severus, I'll give Mr. Potter a dose of painkilling potion, and attempt to heal his nose, but I'm concerned that he's not regained consciousness,” she said anxiously. “It could be a sign of swelling in the brain. I have some potions to reduce the swelling, but they are not usually very effective,” she said worriedly.

“I'll see what I have in my personal stores. I have recently perfected a new formulation that has had encouraging results with brain injury patients at St. Mungo’s. Some of the patients that have regained consciousness had been in a coma for more than a year,” he assured her.

Severus turned his attention to Hermione. “Miss Granger, you will stay with Mr. Potter, while I check?”

“Of course, sir, but-” Hermione looked pleadingly at Severus. “-uh, Ginny and Ron should be here as well; Harry would want them here. Besides--I doubt whether they will get much work done anyhow. Please, could…” Hermione trailed off when she saw Severus' hard stare. What was the point in pleading with the cold man anyways?”

Severus stared at her for several more seconds. “Very well Miss Granger,” he finally said.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She had not expected him to agree. Frankly, Snape was full of surprises today. He had reacted every bit the protective father today when faced with Harry's aggressor. Not that Hermione hadn't seen the man furious before, but this was different; it was difficult to explain. He had been outraged that someone had dared hurt Harry; his son. Snape had not been successful at hiding his worry over Harry's condition, either. She had not believed the man capable of such outward emotion. Hermione never thought that she would believe that Harry was lucky to have Snape as a father, but she had seen a side of Severus Snape today that she was certain that few had ever witnessed. Perhaps Harry's ill-advised plan to bring Snape back from the Veil, hadn't been such a mistake after all.

“I will inform their professors that they have permission to leave class,” Severus glanced at Poppy, “I'll be back shortly.”

“I've spelled some pain-relief potions directly into his stomach, to make him more comfortable, and mended his septum as best I could. The rest will have to heal the Muggle way. It would be too dangerous to ply him with too many potions while he remains unconscious,” She explained.

Severus nodded, and swept out of the hospital wing, leaving behind a gob smacked Hermione.

----

Draco moved aside quickly, so as not to be pancaked by the slamming door. He scowled as he watched Severus hurry off to the dungeons.

Draco, once again, had been eavesdropping at the doors to the hospital, and was enraged at what he had heard. When he had seen Potter receive a well-deserved beating, he had rejoiced. When he had seen Severus take Potter's side against a Slytherin, however, Draco was livid. What the hell had gone wrong with his plan? As far as he was concerned, it had been foolproof. Potter and Severus had never gotten along, and Draco had been certain that nothing would have changed that. Even the discovery of their newfound relationship.

In fact, everything pointed to business as usual. Severus didn't seem to show any favourtism towards Potter in class; he didn’t show nearly as much favourtism towards his own house as he had in the past, either. In fact, Severus seemed just as hard on Potter as usual; it hadn't seemed as though their relationship had changed anything. So why did Severus suddenly seem worried sick about the little snot just now, and why did he look as though he had wanted to use Adams as a potion's ingredient?

Then there was Potter's strange behaviour of late. Potter had always seemed annoyingly noble in the past. The only time he had ever lost his temper, in fact, was to defend someone he had believed to be in danger or persecuted by another. It was quite nauseating to see Potter over the years rush to defend every whipped puppy he came upon. Lately, Potter seemed different though. It seemed to Draco that Potter's temper was hanging by a thread, and it took little to provoke it. After all, the idiot had been stupid enough to pick a fight with the biggest student at Hogwarts. Draco had thought that even the simple-minded Potter had more brains than that!

Damn, I just know that there's more to this than meets the eye, Draco thought to himself. Potter's mood swings; his friends sticking to him like glue. What was more, Draco discovered that Potter wasn't staying in Gryffindor Tower either. He'd bet any money that he was staying with Severus, but why? What the hell were they all hiding? Maybe a little more digging was in order, and a little more eavesdropping. I'm not finished with you yet, Potter, Draco fumed inwardly.

-----

Severus hurried to his lab, retrieved several phials of potions, including the one he hoped would snap Potter back to consciousness, and took a deep breath to calm his frazzled nerves. Was this what it was like to be a father? He wasn't quite certain that he liked the feeling of constant worry, and sense of heavy responsibility that came along with it. His son was seventeen for goodness sake, a young man, and still Severus felt this overwhelming protectiveness and fear. Merlin knows how he would have handled the role years ago, when Potter was younger, and constantly placing himself in danger.

Of course, Severus told himself that he would never have tolerated that sort of behaviour had he known that he was the boy's father. Certainly, he would never have given his permission for his son to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, had he had the power to veto it. He had always believed that the Headmaster could have put a stop to that nonsense. Imagine placing a fourteen-year-old child in such danger. Even when he had hated the boy, he had been incensed that Dumbledore had not protected him better, and had instead, encouraged the child to risk his life at every turn. Even when Severus had discovered the relationship between the two of them, he had not been allowed to acknowledge the boy, nor had he been allowed the authority to prevent Potter from rushing headlong into danger at every turn.

Now the boy was a man, and Severus wanted desperately to turn back time and recapture every moment he had missed with his son. While that was not possible, Severus made a vow to himself, that if Potter...when Potter, Severus corrected himself, regained consciousness, that he would not let the boy out of his sight; if only to protect him from himself. His first priority would be to find a way to reverse the effects of the Dark Magic. Severus was struck with an ominous thought. What if Potter's condition were made more fragile by the fact that his mind was being controlled by Dark forces? If that were the case, then he needed to find a way to revive Potter quickly; before the damage was too severe.

First he had to attend to Potter's condition. After that, Severus decided that he would pay Dumbledore's portrait a visit, and see if the Headmaster had any insight on Potter's problem.

----

Ginny turned the corner, and in her haste to see Harry, she bumped into Ron coming from the other direction, who, likewise, was walking at a brisk pace, and not paying attention to where he was going. Had Harry's condition not been so serious, they might have had a good laugh at the hilarity of the situation. They rubbed their tender foreheads and exchanged surprised looks.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Snape let you out of class as well?” She asked incredulously.

Ron nodded his head. “Yeah, who would have thought that Snape had a heart!”

Ginny looked thoughtful. “I'm beginning to wonder if someone's confunded the man. He certainly isn't acting like himself.”

Ron and Ginny didn't waste any more time analyzing the behaviour of their Professor. They were too concerned about Harry's condition, to ponder further.

Brother and sister were quite surprised however, to find the Professor sitting by Harry's bed, a look of grave concern upon his harsh features. Hermione was vacillating between worry over Harry and utter shock at how much concern the normally, cold, reserved man before her, was exhibiting towards Harry.

Poppy was once again performing diagnostic spells, after having administered Severus' potions. She sighed, “There is a slight improvement Severus, but his heart rate is still erratic.”

“That is normal Poppy. It takes a little time to show improvement; time will tell how effective the treatment will be,” he assured her. “However, if he's showing improvement already; however slight, then that is a positive sign,” he added confidently.

Inwardly however, Severus was far from feeling confident. He worried about the influence the Dark Magic was having on Potter's swelled brain, and he would certainly feel better once the boy regained consciousness. Severus knew that Potter had fallen hard on the ancient stone floor of the castle, but should the concussion be so grave? Severus had examined the wound himself, before Poppy had healed it, and there had been a nasty, deep cut on the back of his head. The region surrounding the cut was extremely swollen as well; yes Severus supposed it was possible for Potter to have sustained some swelling in the area that protects the brain. Severus assured himself again, that his potion had had amazing results in the past, and would revive his son as well.

The ancient chair creaked as Severus gingerly lifted himself up. He attempted to stretch his stiff, aching limbs to ease some of his tension. As he gazed down at Harry, his heart lurched at the pale face before him. At least the boy seemed comfortable, he assured himself. He had given Harry a mild pain reliever, fearing that anything too strong would perhaps exacerbate his condition, and plunge him further into unconsciousness. Severus wasn't about to admit to Poppy how concerned he really was that Po-Harry wasn't regaining consciousness as quickly as he expected, or hoped for. It had been three days now since the incident, and although his breathing seemed more stable, as well as his heartbeat, Harry still hadn't opened his eyes. According to Poppy's diagnostics, the swelling in the brain had reduced considerably, so why wasn't he conscious yet? Severus was reluctant to explore the possibilities.

He went to the window to stare out at the grounds beyond. A light sprinkling of snow carpeted the grounds. It was early morning, and the sun had yet to rise. The pale moonlight lit the room in a soft warm glow. He glanced back at Harry.

He stared at the unconscious boy, willing him to open his eyes; to say something....anything. Merlin, the boy could hurl his usual defiant spiel for all he cared. Of course, he'd deduct points from Gryffindor; can't pass up that chance, now could he? But he could deal with that. As a matter of fact, Severus would give anything to see those flashing green eyes light up in anger. Hell....I'd even put up with his cocky attitude and Gryffindor recklessness, if the damned boy would. Just. Open. His. Eyes. Dammit!

Severus went to Harry's bedside. “Potter, it's about time you woke up now. Enough of this nonsense. I've got some flobberworms that need dicing, and some frog guts that have your name written on them,” he said in a low voice. “Come on Harry. I'm not finished with you yet. We have too much unfinished business to attend to.” Severus' hand seemed to move of its own volition; it swept through Harry's unwashed hair. Severus smirked. “I hate to tell you this, Potter, but I do believe that you've inherited my greasy hair. And your nose appears a little larger than yesterday.”

“Go to hell, Snape,” Harry mumbled. His parched lips lifted slightly in a small smile.

Harry struggled to open his heavy eyelids. He felt as though his brain was full of cotton swabs, and his eyes felt gritty and burnt intensely. He looked up into Snape's lined face. The cold man wasn't able to hide the worry this time. Harry noticed that the man's robes were wrinkled, and his eyes were shadowed; he looked as though he hadn't slept in days.

He was in the hospital wing, Harry realised. The images of a large fist making contact with his nose, was the last thing that Harry remembered. But they didn't put you in the hospital for a broken nose, Harry reasoned. So, what the hell had happened? And why did it look like Snape was worried sick, despite his desperate attempt to appear otherwise.

Harry's lips were cracked and dry, and it was difficult to speak. “Water, please,” he croaked.

Snape, relief washing through him, quickly poured Harry a glass of water from the urn on the bedside table. At the same time he handed Harry his glasses, and thought to himself that he would have given Harry almost anything he asked for at that moment, so relieved was he that the boy had come back to him. Of course he would not share that thought with Potter. No sense in revealing how very vulnerable and weak he had felt when he thought that he might lose the son that he had not yet had the time to get to know. He would definitely rectify it now, he vowed to himself.

Harry noticed the ever-so-slight tremble of Snape's hands as he passed the glass of water to Harry. The cool water slid down Harry's throat, easing the dryness. “What exactly happened, and why am I here?” Why would Snape look so worried over a simple broken nose? Had something else happened that Harry couldn't remember? Oh no! Had he had another episode with the Dark Magic? Is that why he couldn't remember why he was in the hospital?

Snape smirked. “You do remember picking a fight with a mammoth Slytherin twice your size?”

Harry looked abashed. “Uh, yeah,” he answered sheepishly. “Wasn't too bright of me, was it?”

Snape lifted an eyebrow. “I'd say not.”

Harry's eyes crinkled in confusion. “But why am I in the hospital? I mean my nose hurts like hell, but I wouldn't just be in the hospital for that,” he pointed out.

Harry noticed that the flicker of worry that he had seen on his father's face earlier was back, and it as apparent, struggle as he might, the normally cool and composed man was having a difficult time hiding it.

“You sustained a severe concussion after you hit your head on the floor,” Severus explained. “You have been unconscious for several days now,” he said in a strained voice.

Well that explained the foggy feeling and the dull ache still throbbing in his head. “Oh,” Harry said softly. “Have you been here all this time?” he asked, eyeing Severus' crumpled clothes and weary eyes.

Severus looked uncomfortable. “Yes well, you had to be kept under observation, and I thought it prudent to remain here in case you required another potion. As well, to let Poppy have a break.”

Harry wasn't fooled. He could tell that Snape had been concerned for him, and the fact that he had obviously slept in a chair at his bedside for several days, spoke volumes about the man's state of mind. Harry knew that Snape wouldn't admit outright that he cared, but no one, had ever taken care of him in such a way, other than his friends, of course. The Dursleys had simply thrown him in the cupboard when he had been ill, and washed their hands of him. A warm glow spread through Harry. Maybe it wasn't too late for him to have a father, after all.

Severus noticed Harry suddenly clenching his teeth, and the colour drain from his face. “Are you in pain?” he inquired, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

“Yeah, a little,” Harry admitted reluctantly. Actually, his head was beginning to seriously ache, and his eyes still burned, but Harry, like his father, hated to admit weakness, and was used to enduring pain which was much more severe.

Severus went over to the medicine cabinet, and retrieved a pain relief potion. “Here, you may take this. It will ease your pain and help you sleep. It's still early in the morning. Perhaps you'll feel better after several hours of sleep.”

He handed the phial of potion to Harry, who grabbed it gratefully and downed it quickly. It wasn't long before Harry's eyelids felt heavy again, and he drifted off into a peaceful, painless sleep.

Severus eased himself back into the chair beside Harry's bed, and allowed himself to close his weary eyes as well; secure in the knowledge that his son would be just fine.

-----

“Do you think that he's going to sleep all day?” Ron asked, peering down closely, examining Harry's eyelids.

“Well, obviously he needs the rest Ron, so try to be patient,” Hermione admonished.

“Yeah well, I just want to see for myself that he's alright,” Ron grumbled.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Well if Professor Snape said that he's going to be fine, then you'll just have to trust him. Now do settle down,” she ordered sternly.

Ron huffed, and plonked himself down without grace, into the chair.

“Better listen to her, mate.”

“Harry!” Ron jumped up excitedly. Then composed himself; not wanting to appear too eager.

Harry smiled at them, and reached out with a feeble hand to grab Ginny's hand as she allowed him to gently pull her onto the bed, into an embrace.

“You are a sight for sore eyes.” Harry smiled at her. He brushed his finger lightly against her silky skin.

Ginny narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “You'd better never scare me like that again, Harry Potter,” she reprimanded him.

Harry chuckled. “I'll try not to.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Potter,” Severus' deep voice interrupted. “You are a magnet for trouble.”

Severus lifted an eyebrow at the way that Ginny was laying on the hospital bed beside Harry. Her face heated up in embarrassment, and she scrambled to her feet.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry and Ginny. “A little decorum, if you will. This is a hospital, not a brothel,” he said snidely.

“We weren't doing anything, you giant bat,” Harry said through gritted teeth. He would have like nothing more than to throw a bedpan at Snape's big nose.

The sound of Snape's chuckling had the Gryffindors staring in shock with their mouths agape.

“Welcome back, Potter,” he said with a small smile. Smart mouth and all, his son was going to be fine, and Severus never thought that he would welcome Potter's cheek, but it was music to his ears.

His expression suddenly turned serious. “I must go see Poppy.” He narrowed his eyes at Harry and fixed him with a stern glare. “Do not even think about leaving that bed.”

With that, he turned to leave. He stopped abruptly, twirled around, and sneering at Harry and Ginny, he asked, “Can I trust you two to behave yourselves?”

Harry and Ginny glared at him.

“Oh, and ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Potter,” Snape said over his shoulder as he swept out the door.

The three Gryffindors exchanged confused glances. Their Potions Master's moods of late had been like a roller-coaster, and they'd had yet to come to terms with a nice Snape; well...not exactly nice, per se, but he was definitely exhibiting out-of-character behaviour. They'd certainly never thought that they'd see the day where Snape would smile, let alone actually chuckle! What was next? Would he be awarding Gryffindor points? Taking points off Slytherin? Nah... not bloody likely!

Harry made a face at Snape's departing back, and defiantly pulled Ginny back onto the bed.

Ginny looked at him in horror. “What are you doing, Harry? What if he comes back?”

“Who cares?”

“Well you should, Harry,” Ginny said indignantly. “What if he comes back and catches us. You know what he's like. He'll probably forbid you from seeing me, or assign us more detentions. I'd really rather not being serving detention into next term, as well, thank you very much!”

“I’d like to see him try to stop me from seeing you," Harry said angrily. “He has no right to do that.”

“Harry you're living with the man. He can do anything he wants, so why provoke him?” Hermione huffed. Honestly, she thought that they had made progress in their relationship, but Harry was so damned stubborn.

“Relax Harry,” Ginny said soothingly. “We've got plenty of time to be alone. Snape has been sitting here for three days taking care of you; sleeping on that chair, and probably not eating. So he's a little cranky. “

Harry raised his eyebrows. A little cranky?

“Fine,” he relented.

“But when I'm outta here-” Harry began.

“When you're out of here, young man,” Poppy's stern voice came from the doorway, as she entered with Severus who was looking suspiciously at Ginny, as she jumped up quickly from Harry's bed, “you will be resting for a few days, and not running around picking fights with the Green Giant,” she admonished sternly, wagging her finger at him.

“Yes ma'am,” Harry mumbled.

“Oh trust me, he will rest, if I have to handcuff him to his bed,” Snape threatened menacingly. That way, I can keep an eye on him, and keep him safe, Severus thought smugly to himself.

Harry glared at him. Who the hell did Snape think he was? What was he planning on doing? Keeping him a bloody prisoner?

Ginny and Hermione shared an exasperated look.

Honestly! the girls thought; were men just incredibly obtuse? It was fairly obvious to them, that Snape had been incredibly worried about Harry, and now he just wanted to keep Harry safe and sound. Sure, Snape wasn't good at showing how he felt, but he was obviously trying to hide his feelings behind a facade of aloofness.

“Can I leave now?” Harry asked hopefully.

Poppy exchanged a look with Severus. “You were unconscious for three days, Mr. Potter,” she said hesitantly. “I'd feel better keeping you for another day.”

“But-”

“That will be fine Poppy,” Severus intervened. “Best not to rush it.” He fixed Harry with a look, that said it was useless to argue.

Damn, Harry thought. He knew that if Snape had shut his big trap, he would have been able to convince Poppy to let him leave now. Harry crossed his arms in frustration. He wanted out of here. He'd had enough of hospitals to last him a lifetime.

“It's alright, mate,” Ron consoled him. “We'll keep you company. You still owe me a game of chess.”

“Mr. Potter needs his rest,” Poppy said sternly. “You may remain for another half-hour,” she said firmly. At their crestfallen looks, she relented. “You may return later, after dinner. He mustn't overdo it,” she warned.

“Yes, of course, we understand,” Hermione assured her.

“Severus, may I speak with you privately, please?” Poppy motioned towards her office.

Severus nodded and followed her; he closed the door to her small office behind him.

“He is doing remarkably well, but you will see to it that he doesn't overdo it?” she asked worriedly.

“Of course, Poppy,” he acquiesced.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “I must admit that the efficacy of your potion surprised me. I was rather sceptical as to its effectiveness, at first,” She admitted reluctantly."I was rather worried that the swelling on, Mr.-” she hesitated, “-your son's brain, was too severe to respond that quickly, or possibly at all to the potion, but I was quite amazed at the results,” she said approvingly.

Severus nodded his head. He flushed slightly at the compliment. He was quite unused to receiving them, after all.

He quickly changed the subject. “So I gather that Har-Harry's prognosis is good?” Severus faltered slightly on the name. He had decided to make a more concentrated effort to call his son by his proper name; no matter how difficult it would prove to be.

Poppy gave him a knowing look. She had always known that despite Severus' prickly exterior, within lay, a good, reliable man. Unfortunately, it was a persona that the man allowed few to see, and it was a shame really, because, although Severus had few friends or allies, he was extremely loyal and staunchly protective of those few who allowed in. Young Harry Potter was extremely fortunate to have Severus on his side. She knew that Harry couldn't ask for a better protector than Severus. She could tell that there was still a lot of animosity between the two of them, but after seeing how Severus had not left his son's side for three days, and how his harsh features were lined with worry at the thought that his son wouldn't pull through, Poppy knew that this was a relationship worth cultivating. She only hoped that the two of them could put aside their pride and meet each other halfway.

“Yes,” she finally answered firmly. “However, as I said before, he mustn’t over-do it, and go running off like he usually does.” she pursed her lips disapprovingly.

“Yes, well,” Severus said sternly, “since the boy is residing with me, I'll be able to monitor his condition, and assure that he does not over-tax himself.”

Poppy smiled at the man, causing him to narrow his eyes suspiciously at her. “Yes, I'm quite sure you can handle Mr. Potter,” she chuckled. “He is extremely headstrong...not unlike his father,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.

Severus was rather shocked at her boldness. Not that the Mediwitch had ever held back on saying what was on her mind, he thought caustically.

Before Severus could respond however, she was shooing him out of her office, and giving him strict instructions on Harry's care. “And do make sure that he eats well, Severus. That boy eats like a bird; he needs to keep up his strength.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Yes Poppy, don't worry, he's in good hands.”

Poppy studied him for a moment, and replied, “Yes Severus; I do believe that he is. You may come to collect him after breakfast tomorrow morning,” she instructed.

Severus noticed upon leaving Poppy's office, that Harry and his friends were becoming a little boisterous. He folded his arms and glared at them.

Severus observed that Harry's face looked pale and drawn again, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. “I do believe that your half-hour is up, and Harry needs to rest now,” he said firmly.

None of them objected, because it was obvious from Harry's pasty pallor and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, that Harry was tired. The boy in pain, Severus thought to himself, and was hesitant to say anything to his friends, lest he appear weak.

“See ya later mate,” Ron assured Harry. “I'll bring my chessboard with me.”

Hermione gave him a hug, and Ginny gave him a quick peck on the lips; uncomfortably aware of Snape's piercing stare.

“Bye... see you later Harry,” chimed Ginny and Hermione, as they rushed to flee Snape's overpowering presence. The man was like an overprotective mother hen, the girls thought to themselves with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief when the annoying Gryffindors had finally departed and Poppy had returned to her office to complete some overdue paperwork.

Severus retrieved a phial from his pocket, and handed it to Harry. “Take this. It will ease your pain and help you sleep,” he said gruffly.

“Thank you,” Harry said gratefully. One thing about his father, he was uncannily observant; Sometimes, annoyingly so, but at this moment Harry was relieved that Snape had noticed his fatigue and pain, and although the man could grate on his nerves at times, Harry was beginning to appreciate the benefits of having Snape as a father. Of course there were those times where Harry would dearly love to tell the man to stick his potions where the sun don't shine, but now wasn’t one of them. Harry smiled slightly to himself as he drifted off into a deep, lovely, drug-induced sleep.

-----

“Get your arse back in that bed, or I'll put a sticking charm on it,” Severus warned as he caught Harry trying to sneak out the door for the second time that day. Harry was quite annoyed with himself that he had forgotten his invisibility cloak up in the Tower. He was becoming bored with this forced confinement. Honestly...the man was a tyrant! Talk about exaggerating; the man wouldn't let him do anything; anything but blasted homework, that is! Harry was so bored he wanted to scream.

“I'm perfectly fine,” Harry huffed, as he climbed back into bed. Severus had transformed his study into a room for Harry. After all, it appeared that the boy would be residing with him for quite some time, and although Severus wouldn't admit it to himself, he was hoping that Harry would stay here from time to time, even after he returned to the Tower.

“Poppy gave me strict orders that you were to have complete bed rest for at least two days, and after that, gradual return to normal activity, and I intend to follow those instructions to the letter,” Severus said with a determined look on his face. He crossed his arms. “Now...are you going to stay in that bed-” Severus tapped his wand against his hand, and smirked, “-or must I employ other means to enforce your cooperation?”

Harry growled in frustration, as he plonked his head down on his pillow.

“I hate you...you know that?”

“It breaks my heart,” Severus drawled.

When Severus handed Harry yet another phial of potion, Harry groaned. Yeah, it relieved the pain quite well, but Harry was thoroughly sick of sleeping. He couldn't wait until after dinner, when Snape had agreed that Hermione, Ginny and Ron were allowed to visit. Severus was severely limiting his visitors, insisting that Harry needed complete peace and quiet, and maintained that Harry's rambunctious friends were not conducive to that end. Harry, of course, took exception to that description; an argument ensued, and of course Snape won. Harry just could not believe how overprotective the man was being. Honestly! I'm not made of bloody china, Harry thought grumpily, as he drifted off to sleep.

What Harry didn't know was that the potion which Severus gave him, was double strength; ensuring that Harry would be out like a light for the next several hours-- freeing up Severus' time to do a little research into how to rid Harry's system of this Dark Magic.

-----

“Severus.” Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes widened in surprise. “It has been far too long.”

“Yes Headmaster, it has.” Not long enough, Severus privately thought. As much as he respected and cared for the man, Albus could be incredibly manipulative, and sometimes his penchant for seeing only the best in everyone and every situation, could be positively nauseating. Severus was quite content wallowing in his perpetual nastiness; he really had no desire to be cheery. And the man's fondness for lemon drops and other such sugary confections, had Severus convinced that the man's manic state was spurred on by a persistent sugar rush.

Albus studied Severus' pale, tired features with concern. As usual, the man's intuitive nature grated on Severus' nerves. After all, Severus was a man who wore his emotions close to his chest, and it was very daunting to have the old coot voice his thoughts before Severus could even acknowledge they existed.

Dumbledore's eyes shone with concern. “You're worried about Harry, aren't you Severus?”

Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why ever would you jump to that conclusion Albus?”

Albus avoided the question. “You are though, aren't you?”

The man was too damned intuitive, Severus thought angrily. “Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

“May I ask why?” Albus asked gently.

Severus huffed. “Why do I get the feeling that you already know the answer to that question, Albus?”

“Why, whatever do you mean Severus?” Albus asked innocently

“Don't play games with me, old man,” Severus snapped impatiently. “”Or I may have to find some paint thinner.”

Albus' eyebrows shot up. “Fine,” he said quickly. “I may have asked the other portraits to keep, ah-” Albus twirled his long beard nervously, “-to keep an eye on you and Harry.”

Severus eyes flashed angrily. “You had the portraits spy on us?”

If a portrait could possibly blush, then Albus’ did.

“Well,” he hesitated, “spy is a rather strong word.”

Severus lifted an eyebrow. “Oh...and what would you call it then?”

“I'd call it concern over the two people I care most about in the world,” Albus explained.

Severus stared at the portrait for a several minutes, not quite knowing how to respond. Part of him was touched by the apparently sincere sentiment, and the other part of him was extremely annoyed that the man before him, albeit in portrait form, was once again pulling the strings of manipulation, even beyond the veil.

“Yes well,” Severus warned, “you will call off your spies immediately. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my son, without your interference; as pure as your motives may be,” he finished acerbically.

“Yes, yes, of course Severus,” Albus assured him. “It's just that as no one has bothered to visit me in awhile, and I'd been hearing rumours about Harry; I was rather worried about him.”

Severus' heart plunged into his stomach. “What sort of rumours are you referring to, Albus?” he asked warily.

“Well, I'd been hearing tales of Harry acting oddly.” At Severus' glare, Albus elaborated. “I'd heard that he was acting rather out of character; that he was having shall we say...fits of ....pique, to put it mildly, and some of the students have been saying that he's not right in the head since he defeated Voldemort. As a matter of fact, some are suggesting that he's possessed with Voldemort's spirit.” Albus threw his hands up in the air. “You know better than anyone else, Severus, how quickly these ridiculous rumours can spread.”

Severus felt his fury rise. How dare anyone suggest that his son was touched in the head? Even though at one point Severus had worried about that very thing. And to suggest that Harry was possessed by Voldemort's spirit, no less, was absolutely preposterous. Of course the reality was no less incredible, he thought acidly.

“There is something else you should be aware of Severus,” Albus continued, snapping Severus out of his reverie.

Severus looked at him expectantly. 'Yes?” he prompted.

Albus fixed him with his piercing blue eyes. “Young Mr. Malfoy has been acting suspiciously as well,” he said hesitantly.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Elaborate.”

Albus took a moment to dip in his pocket and retrieve a candy and pop it into his mouth. Severus wondered how on earth the man was still able to obtain such confections while trapped in a portrait frame. The afterlife must have its own supply of candy-makers; the thought was rather an irritating one.

“Will you get to the point,” Severus finally snapped impatiently.

Albus looked apologetic. “Oh yes...so sorry, my boy.”

Severus rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms.

“Mr. Malfoy has been seen skulking around outside your office, mine, and Minerva's,” he explained slowly, gauging Severus' reaction.

The wheels of Severus' mind were slowly turning around. It all made sense now. Draco had seemed to turn up at the most inopportune moments. In retrospect, Severus remembered the nasty looks that Draco had seemed to be sending Harry's way. A surge of anger rose up in Severus at the sudden realisation that Draco had probably been responsible for the leak to the Daily Prophet. He clenched his fists till his knuckles turned white. It would seem that he needed to have a talk with his errant Slytherin; and soon. The only problem was that he had no tangible proof to confront the boy with. He couldn't very well accuse Draco of leaking information to the press about his relationship with Harry, without some hard evidence to back him up.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was beginning to throb, and he really didn't need this complication right now. He would have to just keep an eye on Draco, that's all. Wonderful, he thought. I have two difficult teenagers to keep under control; and to keep away from each other, because Severus was certain that if Harry were to get wind of Draco's involvement with Skeeter and the news- leak, then he would be struggling to keep Harry out of Azkaban for murdering the treacherous Slytherin.

Severus was extremely disappointed in Draco. He had always believed that the boy had regarded Severus as a mentor, as someone to whom he could rely on if he needed guidance. Severus had always attempted to let the boy know, actually let all of his Slytherins know, that his door was always open, and that he would lend an ear to their problems, without being overly judgmental.

Although it was obvious that Narcissa and Lucius doted on the boy in many ways, it was equally obvious that Lucius had been determined to mould the boy into a DeathEater, and Draco had been forced to partake in many activities that made the boy uncomfortable, or terrified, such as when the Dark Lord had forced Draco to murder the Headmaster. Draco had not been able to go to his father on such an occasion, as he had been afraid to seem weak to Lucius; but the boy had felt comfortable coming to Severus. Severus had of course, taken the unbreakable vow, to take the pressure off the boy, and he had done everything in his power afterwards to protect the boy from the Dark Lord's wrath.

So where had he gone wrong? Severus agonized over the thought that he had failed the boy. Why did Draco now want to strike back at Severus by leaking the story of his relationship to Potter to the press? Only one explanation came to mind. Draco was jealous of Harry; Jealous of their burgeoning relationship. He supposed that he couldn't blame the boy for that, since Lucius was in prison, and Draco had no other male figure to look up to, or to receive guidance from, but Severus could not tolerate such behaviour, even if the boy was hurting Yes, he would have a little talk with the Slytherin.

After all, Draco had no idea that Severus was a gifted Legilimens. He would teach Draco a lesson he wouldn't soon forget, and then he would make it clear to the Slytherin that even if he had a son now, that did not mean that he would turn his back on the boy. Draco was one of his Slytherins, after all, and his godson, and unless Draco repudiated him, Severus never turned his back on his responsibilities.

“As much as I appreciate your concern, Albus-” Severus' expression said otherwise, "-I'd advise you to call off your spies. I won't tolerate this further intrusion on my privacy.”

Albus had the grace to look ashamed. “Yes, of course Severus,” he agreed. “Now, the reason for your visit?”

“Unfortunately, the rumours about Harry are not so far off the mark,” Severus said regretfully.

Albus gave him an incredulous look. “Whatever do you mean?”

Severus sighed. He really had no desire to recount the whole sordid tale yet again. Nor did he care to admit to Albus how helpless he felt, and didn't quite know how to help his son.

“There were some repercussions to Harry's interactions with the dark magic he used to bring me from the Veil.”

“Such as?” Albus prompted.

Severus took a deep breath. He was not a man who liked to admit weakness, and to debase himself in front of the man, even as a portrait, that he had no idea how to solve a simple problem such as this, was very difficult indeed.

“There was a backlash of Dark Magic, and Harry's mind is now being controlled by Dark thoughts. He has little control over his actions, and along with his mood swings and unpredictable behaviour, I'm at a loss on how to reverse the effects.” Severus admitted reluctatnly.

Albus stared at the man before him in disbelief. He had thought that the rumours were hogwash and had no basis in reality. He'd obviously been wrong, and should have realised that most rumours began from a small seed of truth, and morphed into a vine that twisted and squeezed the life out of the minute grain of truth that had existed to begin with.

“Well, to be honest with you Severus, this is beyond my area of expertise as well, However...” he said quickly, when he noticed Severus' crestfallen expression. “…there is someone who is an expert on such things.”

“Ah, yes of course,” Severus said in sudden realisation. “Slughorn.” He traced his mouth with his long finger. “Why didn't I think of him? Yes...yes that is the answer,” he said thoughtfully.

“Thank you for your help Albus,” he said sincerely. The old coot came in handy at times. He was a bottomless fountain of knowledge. Even if he was extremely manipulating, not to mention, disgustingly chipper all the time.

Severus swirled around, and swept out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Albus in his wake.

Damn, Draco grumbled. Severus had gone up to Dumbledore's office, where the wards were fortified, and required a password to enter. He just had to find out what was going on with Potter. He had purposely circulated rumours about Potter being possessed by the Dark Lord's spirit, and had met with Skeeter once more to plant the seed of suspicion in her head as well. There should be a nice headline tomorrow morning in the Daily Prophet, Draco thought gleefully. But still, he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to know what was really going on with Potter even though he suspected that the rumours were not that far from the truth.

“Psst...Malfoy,” a deep voice beckoned him from the shadows.

Draco wasn't stupid. He pulled out his wand cautiously, prepared. After all, Draco had begun training as a Death Eater. He had been trained to trust no one.

“Who's there?” He asked suspiciously.

“It's me.” Adams showed himself to Draco, shifting his head back and forth, verifying that they were alone.

Draco's eyes widened in surprised. “Adams?”

“Yes Malfoy,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Draco's stomach churned with anxiety. Although Draco was quite tall, and not exactly scrawny, the boy before him still stood several inches taller than him and Draco could see the bulging muscles, even through the boy's robes.

“What is it, Adams?” Draco asked cockily, even though his insides squirmed like jelly.

“I know that Potter is not exactly one of your favourite people either,” Adams drawled, looking his nose down at Draco. It gave Draco the creeps.

“Uh...no, he's not,” Draco said in disgust.

“The little rat almost got me expelled,” Adams said nastily. “I've got detention until I graduate; and Snape laid into me too for hurting his little boy,” he grumbled.

Draco did not envy Adams on that score. He knew Severus' temper; had been at the receiving end of his lectures often enough to know how it felt. Draco wondered where Adams was going with this though. Did he call Draco over, only to gripe about Potter?

Adams' face twisted into a nasty scowl. “I was wondering if you'd be interested in exacting a little revenge on Potter.”

Draco gaped at the boy. Yeah, he hated Potter, but he had a feeling that what Adams was suggesting could land the both of them in Azkaban.

“What did you have in mind?” Draco asked the bigger boy hesitantly.

Adams studied Draco's face intensely. “I was hoping that you might have some suggestions. I was thinking along the lines of a little Potions accident, or a wayward curse in Defence class. You have both classes with Potter, don't you?”

“Look I'm not doing anything that's going to land us in Azkaban,” Malfoy objected.

Adams' face flushed with anger. He grabbed Malfoy by the collar, and glared at him threateningly.

“You're a spineless coward, aren't you Malfoy,” he sneered.

“Gentlemen,” a voice drawled behind them. “Is there a problem?” Severus narrowed his eyes at both of them.

Once again Adams' bravado deflated in the face of Severus' dangerous presence. Malfoy was tempted to point that out to the Slytherin, but as he was walking a thin line of deceit and treachery himself, he thought better of it. Best to let Severus come to his own conclusions about what had transpired between the two of them. After all, he did have to sleep in the same dorm as the massive Slytherin.

“Uh, no sir,” stammered Adams guiltily.

“Really?” Severus lifted his eyebrow in doubt. “Then why were you threatening Mr. Malfoy?”

Adams gulped nervously. Just how much had Snape overheard?

“My office now, Mr. Adams. It would seem that we need to have another chat,” Snape hissed.

Before Draco could gloat however, Severus turned his attention to the boy, and fixed him with a stern glare that sent shivers down Draco's spine.

“I would like to speak with you as well, Mr. Malfoy,” he said smoothly. “End of classes tomorrow, in my office.”

Draco's face blanched. “Yes sir,” he whispered nervously.

Oh, Draco what the hell have you gotten yourself into, Severus thought sadly to himself.

“Very well, Mr. Malfoy. You will return to the common room immediately,” he ordered curtly. “Is that clear?”

Draco nodded. “Yes sir.”

----

As Severus opened the door to his quarters, he heard a scuffle and patter of footsteps. It appeared that the formulation wasn't quite as strong as he had thought.

He took in Potter's still form in the bed with the covers over his face.

Severus went over and ripped the covers off the bed, and looked down his large nose at the obviously-awake boy, with his eyes pinched closed, hands balled into fists.

“Give it up, Potter; I know you're awake.” Severus rolled his eyes. “Either that, or it was a herd of hippogriffs that I heard galloping through our quarters,” he said acerbically. “And since hippogriffs are not permitted in Hogwarts, then I assume that what I heard was the very loud footsteps of one very stubborn Harry Potter, who is supposed to be resting, not up and about getting into Merlin knows what sort of mischief.”

Harry sighed. Did the man have some sort of potions-enhanced hearing? He opened his eyes to a tight-lipped, arms-crossed, very pissed-off looking Potions master.

Before Harry had a chance to utter a word, Severus had whipped out his wand, muttered a very Latin-sounding phrase—at least to Harry's ears it sounded Latin, since he had little knowledge of the language—and put his wand back in his robes pocket. He crossed his arms once more, and wore a very smug expression indeed, Harry thought suspiciously.

Sure enough, when Harry attempted to sit up, he discovered to his very unpleasant surprise, that he was stuck to the sheets. He glared furiously at the man before him, who looked very much like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“What the hell did you do to me, Snape? Take this spell off immediately,” he ordered furiously.

Severus lifted an eyebrow. “First of all, Potter...you were warned what would happen if you didn't obey orders and stay in bed. I feel no guilt whatsoever in following through on my threat,” he said smugly. “Second of all, if you don't adjust your attitude, I must inform you that I know a wonderful spell that will seal your lips tightly, until I deem that you have sufficiently learnt the proper respect for not only your professor, and deputy headmaster, but your father,” he finished with a smirk.

“Go. To. Hell. Snape,” Harry said through gritted teeth. He managed to grab his pillow from underneath his head and throw it at Severus. However, he soon found out that throwing an object while lying down, did not have the satisfying results that one might wish. As Harry wasn't able to put much force behind it, the pillow merely landed at Severus' feet.

The man actually had the gall to laugh. Harry scowled. This isn't fair. Once again the ugly git was holding all the cards.

“Let me up, you ugly git-”

Snape pointed his wand threateningly at Harry who wisely shut up. He huffed and clamped his mouth shut, glaring daggers at the man before him.

Severus couldn't help it. He was exacting enormous pleasure from seeing the boy so frustrated. He knew that he was evil, but he was Slytherin after all. So, he made no excuses for his behaviour.

“Now, if you lie quietly, and keep your mouth shut for the next couple of hours, I'll allow your friends to visit you after dinner.” He narrowed his eyes. “However, if you continue to rant and rave like a banshee-” he lifted the corners of his mouth in a small smile, “-I'll have to take other measures to assure my aching head some peace and quiet.”

Severus picked up one of Harry's schoolbooks from the night table, and handed it to the white-faced, tight-lipped boy lying on the bed.

“Here, read pages 235 to page 480. I will test you on it later.” Severus flicked his wand and the lantern beside Harry's bed flickered and lit up the room in a soft glow.

----

Harry resentfully read his Potions text for the next couple of hours, and was relieved when Snape came in carrying a tray of delicious-smelling foods. He was starving, his head ached and his eyes burned.

Snape studied the boy's pinched face, and realised guiltily that perhaps forcing him to study for several hours had caused him discomfort.

He handed Harry a phial of pain reliever. “Take this before you eat.”

“How am I supposed to eat if I can't sit up,” Harry asked grumpily.

“Will you behave yourself and stay in bed?” Severus returned. “Poppy will be coming by later to examine you, and I'd rather not have to explain to her why you have suffered a setback.”

Harry studied Severus' expression. As usual the man's face was a mask. But Harry was beginning to understand his father. The man would never openly admit to being concerned for Harry. He would never express any emotion at all for that matter, but Harry was beginning to recognize the subtle signs of Severus’ shifts in mood. When Severus became gruff and no-nonsense, more often than not, he was attempting to hide his worry and concern with a facade of sternness, but Snape couldn't erase the flicker of worry that shone in his eyes.

Harry felt guilty now. The man was only trying to do what was best for him, and Harry was constantly fighting him. They had a long way to go in their relationship still, Harry realised with a pang of regret.

Severus was accustomed to dealing with Harry by constantly exerting his authority over him, and Harry was used to fighting back, just for the sake of doing something contrary to what Snape wanted; just for the sake of defiance. Harry knew that he needed to be more mature, and realise that more often than not lately, the man was attempting to make an effort, and Harry was being obstinate because he didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of doing what Severus told him to do. If only Snape would talk to him on the same level, then perhaps it would make a difference, but every time he spit out an order, Harry's back went up and he was determined to do the opposite of what he was told to do. No matter that what the man was telling him to do had merit; and was in his best interest.

This whole father/son scenario was much harder than Harry had ever imagined. Lord knows that this was not how he imagined it to be when he thought that James was his father. He used to have fantasies when he was younger, of how he and James would do things together, be best friends and have this wonderful relationship. He had had the same dreams when he had thought that he would have been able to go live with Sirius. He had never really thought of Sirius as an authority figure though; more as someone fun-loving and easy-going, and Harry always envisioned that had he been allowed to live with Sirius, that Sirius would have been more like an older brother, rather than a guardian. They would have been best buddies.

James had seemed more like what a father should be; sensitive and understanding, caring and gentle. He had seemed like the kind of father that Harry had seen on the telly. And then there was Snape. Needless to say, Snape was nothing like what he had hoped to have in a father. Bad-tempered, bossy, sarcastic and insulting; no, that was definitely not how he had imagined the perfect father to be.

Although, Harry had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that it felt good to have Snape be so protective of him. Of course, Harry's macho self didn't appreciate it outwardly, but when Ginny had recounted how Snape had laid into Adams and told him that he ever laid a finger on his son again, that he would regret it, a warm glow had settled over him, and he had actually felt pride in having Snape as his father. Of course, there were other times when Harry wanted to turn back the hands of time, and pretend that the man wasn't related to him. If Harry were honest with himself though, these times were becoming less frequent, and even when he was angry with the man, he could see that Snape was trying.

----

Severus studied his son's animated features, as Harry interacted with his friends. He had to admit, that allowing Harry to have visitors, had been the right thing to do. As long as the visit was kept quiet and not too taxing for Harry, perhaps lifting the boy's morale would be beneficial to his recovery.

Harry was still experiencing headaches and mild dizzy spells, and Severus wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was concerned that if Harry overdid it, he would slip back into unconsciousness and Severus knew that should that happen again, then perhaps the result would not be so positive, this time around.

Severus experienced a pang of regret as he watched the interaction between Harry and his friends. It was ridiculous, Severus realised, to compare a father and son relationship with that of his son's peers but nevertheless, he envied the ease with which they carried on a conversation, and the familiarity that they had with Harry. If only he could ever imagine having a discussion with his son, that didn't end in one of them wanting to hex the other. Frankly, Severus knew that he was the one mostly to blame for the animosity between the two of them. But unfortunately, as Severus was nearing forty, his character was set in stone, and Harry would have to be the one to adapt to it. That's just the way it was. Severus would of course, do his best to curb his tendency towards irascibility, but does a leopard change it's spots?

When it was obvious that Harry was becoming once again drained of energy, Severus put a stop to the visit and ordered Harry's friends to leave. Harry objected; although Severus noticed that it was only a half-hearted attempt. He rather suspected that his son was grateful that Severus could once again be the bad guy, and not have to admit his vulnerability to his friends. Severus noticed the boy was loath to admit any sort of weakness to his friends, even if it was to his detriment. That was one trait that they had in common. Poppy had told Severus on more than one occasion, after he had tried to leave the hospital wing against her orders, that he was a hard-headed man, and she had similarly threatened to put him into a full body-bind should he attempt to leave his hospital bed again!

Severus had of course grumbled, but he knew better than to disobey the stern witch! There were not too many people that could bully Severus Snape into submission, but Poppy was one of them.

Harry was drained. He had really enjoyed the visit with his friends, but was frustrated at how quickly he became tired. He reluctantly admitted to himself that Snape was right to limit his visitors. Of course, he'd never voice those thoughts to the man, who would probably taunt him with, “I told you so”.

He gladly took the pain relief from Snape's hand and gulped it down quickly, his eyelids quickly closed, and was soon sleeping peacefully, unknowingly with a small smile on his lips.

----

Several days, and many arguments later, Severus allowed Harry to leave his bed, after Poppy had cleared him for somewhat normal activity. Of course, she had added a stern warning to him to pick on someone his own size next time. Harry had not been amused.

Harry's stomach fluttered with nerves as he and Severus made their way up the walk-way to Horace Slughorn's door. Severus had already snapped at him to get a grip, several times that day, when Harry's nerves got the better of him and he, in Severus' opinion, had begun rattling off inane questions.

Harry couldn't control his anxiety. He was worried that Slughorn wouldn't be able to help him, and was also hopeful that he could. The result was that his stomach felt like the agitator on a Muggle washing machine. His palms were sweaty and he couldn't quite decide if his cloak was suffocatingly warm, or too thin to prevent his uncontrollable shivering.

Severus glared at Harry. "Will you get a hold of yourself, Potter? You'd think that you were on your way to the gallows.”

Harry had a childish desire to stick his tongue out at the git. Deciding that that was perhaps not the best course of action under the circumstances, he clamped his mouth shut before he did something he would regret. Of course, he also had to control his left leg so as to stop himself from sticking it out and watching his father's rather large nose fall flat into the snow. Harry was rather proud of his self-discipline in controlling his wayward body-parts. Of course, anticipating Snape's reaction was a motivating factor.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Let me do the talking. With the gibberish that's coming out of your mouth today, we don't want Horace to think that you are also being possessed by a Cornish pixie.”

Harry felt a twitch in his left leg again. Before he had a chance to succumb to his ill-advised plan, a disheveled-looking Horace answered Severus' sharp rap on the door.

Horace gawked at the unlikely sight before him. Harry Potter and Severus Snape on his doorstep! And both in one piece!

He shook his head in disbelief. “Harry Potter and Severus Snape... together. Here-- on my doorstep. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, actually it’s Harry Snape now,” Harry said with a sly look at Severus.

Horace's jaw dropped, and Severus gifted Harry with his fiercest glare.

"I'm just joking. It's still Harry Potter," Harry said hastily.

At Horace's look of confusion, Severus asked, "Have you not been following the news, Horace?"

"No, I've been rather a recluse of late," Horace explained.

Harry smirked at Severus. "We've got some catching up to do then, don't we, Severus?"

Whack!

Harry rubbed the back of his head, and glared at his father. "Hey! What's that for?" He exclaimed.

"That's for not keeping your big mouth shut," Severus hissed. Honestly, at this rate he would not have a black hair left on his head. What part of, let me do the talking, had the boy not understood!

Horace’s eyes darted back and forth between the two wizards.

"May we enter Horace, and I'll explain the reason for our visit," Severus said wearily, and shooting another look at Harry that clearly said to keep his lips sealed.

"Oh my, where are my manners?" Horace gestured them into the house. "Please have a seat,” he invited.

Severus pointed to a dilapidated green chair that looked like it had seen better days. "Sit," he ordered Harry.

Harry eyed the chair uncertainly. The fabric was faded, and there was stuffing and rusty springs peeking out. However, he swallowed his hesitation quickly, as he noticed his father's expression becoming stormy once more.

“Would you care for some tea?" Horace asked, motioning to the tea cart behind him.

"Yes please," Harry said politely.

Severus nodded in the affirmative. Personally, Severus thought that a glass of Firewhiskey would have been more appreciated at the moment.

Horace went to pour the tea; all the while, glancing back at the two wizards who were obviously engaged in some sort of private communication, if the tell-tale glares passing between them, were anything to judge by. Perhaps his assumption that they were actually getting along, was a trifle premature.

As Horace waited patiently for an explanation for this unexpected visit, he studied Harry and Severus over the brim of his teacup.

Just as Horace thought he would explode from curiosity, Severus clanked his teacup on the plate, splashing hot tea over the sides of the cup, and saucer. "I apologize for our intrusion Horace, but I find I'm in need of your counsel," Severus began seriously.

Horace furrowed his brow in confusion. It was a rare occurrence indeed when Severus Snape needed, or wanted, advice from anyone. Even while he had been a student, Severus had been loath to confide in the teachers, staff, and even his Head of House. He was a private man, who preferred to suffer in silence, rather than burden another with his problems. It was not often either, that the man could not resolve a problem on his own, so profound was his knowledge and expertise in many disciplines. Whatever could he offer this man in terms of guidance?

"How may I be of assistance, Severus?" Horace inquired curiously.

Severus took a deep breath. "I must admit Horace that I had rather hoped that you were already cognizant of recent events concerning Mr. Potter and myself."

Now Horace was positively bursting at the seams with curiosity. "What events are you referring to?"

Severus rubbed his brow, trying to determine how best to explain the series of events that had led him and Harry into this dilemma.

"During Potter's fifth year," he began slowly, "I discovered that I was his biological father."

Horace's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, this is certainly unexpected." His eyes crinkled in confusion. "I gather that this was not public knowledge until recently, since I've not heard of it before."

Severus shook his head. "No, it was not. I was not allowed to disclose to Potter that I was his father. It would not have been safe for him or I, should the Dark Lord have discovered our familial relationship."

"Yes, of course, that makes sense." Horace studied the two wizards. The similarities were subtle, if one were to examine their features closely. Other than Harry's dark hair, he quite resembled Lily, and the immediate impression of James Potter, came more from Harry's round glasses, so like James, rather than from an actual physical resemblance. As a matter of fact, as Harry had matured, his face had thinned, giving him a more fine-boned appearance.

Horace clapped his hand on his thigh. He smiled at Harry. "Well that explains your proficiency in Potions then. You come by it honestly from both parents."

Harry choked on his tea. He happened a glance over at Severus, who was smirking at him. "Uh, yes sir, I guess that must be it." Harry felt his face heat up. Thank Merlin that Slughorn was not still his Professor. He'd have some serious explaining to do!

Severus was taking great pleasure in his son's discomfort. "Yes Horace, I was just telling Potter the other day that when it came to his potion-making skills, that he took a leaf out of my book," he said dryly.

Harry pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at his father. He was just enjoying this too much, Harry thought angrily. He was relieved when Severus changed the subject.

Severus' expression turned serious. "Now for the real reason behind our visit."

Horace looked at the peaked features of the Potions master. Good Lord. There was more? He wasn't sure if his old ticker could take any more shocking news today. Harry Potter was Severus Snape's son! Never in a million years would Horace have imagined such a thing. And now, his senses were on alert that the news about to be imparted was no less extraordinary.

Horace was not to be disappointed.

"I actually did not survive my last encounter with the Dark Lord," Severus began morbidly.

Was Severus implying that he was a figment of Horace's imagination? A hallucination? Or God forbid...an ethereal spirit? Horace's imagination was running wild, and his confusion was further clouded by Severus' forthcoming tale.

"I suffered a fatal wound from the Dark Lord's snake, Nagini." At Horace's look of confusion, Severus elaborated, "No Horace, I'm not a ghost. I'm very much alive--thanks to Mr. Potter's unsolicited intervention."

Horace massaged his forehead. He was beginning to regret having answered the doorbell.

"I'm sorry Severus, but...but, are you saying that you were brought back from the Veil? By Harry?" His eyes clouded in confusion. "But how?"

Severus searched for words carefully. "Mr. Potter discovered our familial relationship, quite by accident--having viewed my Pensieved memories. He then...after further intrusion into my private thoughts-" He glared at Harry, who rolled his eyes, "-discovered that I had been forced by the Dark Lord, as had all his servants, to create a Horcrux."

Horace blanched.

"Subsequently," Severus continued, despite Horace's obvious shock. "Mr. Potter....in his infinite wisdom, decided to use the Horcrux to bring me back from the Veil by using ancient Dark Magic. He inadvertently absorbed said Dark Magic when he was consumed by a backlash of magic, from the ritual used to invoke the Horcrux."

Severus took a breath as Horace stared at him. “And now, we need your help to remove the Dark Magic that still inhabits him…”

Horace sputtered on his hot tea, scorching the roof of his mouth with the scalding liquid.  Severus Snape was not known for practical jokes. He wasn't one to spin unlikely tales, so why on earth was the man spewing such ridiculous nonsense? The Saviour of the Light had used a Horcrux to bring his estranged father back from the Veil? Pobbycock! Ridiculous! Never in a million years.

However, the serious expression etched on Severus' harsh features, told Horace otherwise. It couldn't possibly be. Oh Merlin...the man was speaking the truth! The colour drained from Horace's face.

Horace stared with unseeing eyes at the two wizards before him. He took a deep breath and tried to still his shattered nerves. The last time he had dealt with the issue of Horcruxes had been when Tom Riddle had tricked him into revealing the finer points of creating one. He had only realised his grave error, when Dumbledore had revealed how Tom had splintered his soul numerous times through acts of immense cruelty and murderous intent.

Severus' milky-white pallor accentuated the fine lines of worry and anxiety on his already-harsh features, givng him the aura of a man on the edge of losing control. Horace knew that it was unheard of for Severus to loosen his grip on his iron-clad emotions. With a pang of regret, Horace reflected that Severus had not always been so apparantly devoid of empathy and human emotion. Severus had been a wide-eyed, shy young boy when he first began at Hogwarts. Horace had attempted to take the boy under his wing, and shield him from the harsh realities of the real world, but alas, it was not within Horace's power to protect the boy from the cold cruel world. He had seen how the boy was taunted mercilessly by the elder Potter and Black, and how this relentless harrassment had enventually driven Severus into the Dark Lord's circle.

What a shame that such potential had gone to waste, Horace had thought. The boy was brilliant in Defence and Potions, was an outstanding student, and could have had the world at his feet. It was not often that Horace had encountered such talent and intelligence in one so young, and he had had high hopes for the young Slyterhin. Severus had attained his Masters in Potions shortly after graduation, having served as an apprentice with Horace during his last two years at Hogwarts, making Severus one of the youngest ever to attain the level of Potions Master, but alas, the boy had followed the path of Darkness, and Horace had lost his protege to the allure of the Dark Arts. The Dark Lord had taken full advantage of Severus' skill in Potions, and it broke Horace's heart that such talent had gone to the pursuit of evil. Horace had known, the minute Severus had sought the company of the likes of McNair, Avery and Lucius Malfoy-- that it was a lost cause.

It was of course with much joy that Horace discovered that Severus had had an ephipany and turned his life around; sacrificing his freedom and laying his life on the line to become a spy for the Light after James and Lily Potter's deaths. Severus had become a fine, brave man and Horace was pleased that both Harry and Severus now had each other.

“Horace,” Severus snapped impatiently. He'd been asking the man a question for a full minute, and had the impression that he had not heard a word that Severus said.

Horace snapped back to reality at the harsh tone. “Wha-what? Oh yes, I'm sorry Severus,” Horace stammered,as he placed the teacup, with shaky hands, back onto the saucer.

“Would you mind repeating your question Severus? I'm afraid that this is all a bit much to take in,” Horace said apologetically.

Severus attempted to subdue his rising impatience. It wouldn't do, afterall, to alienate the man that he was about to ask a favour of.

Severus studied the elder wizard and with a jolt realised that Horace was not as young or as healthy as he had once been. Of course, Severus realised that the man had received rather shocking news, and it was obvious that Horace was weighing Severus' words very carefully to judge whether he should accept at face value, the information being offered to him. Severus knew that the man had already suffered great disappointment at the choices that Severus had made through the years. At one time, Severus had looked up to Horace with great reverence and respect, both for the man's talents and patience in teaching Severus all he knew. It must have been extremely frustrating and disappointing for the man, Severus realised with a pang of regret, when Severus had become so enamoured with the Dark Arts, and had thrown away the opportunities that Slughorn had offered him.

Although Albus had taken the man's place as mentor, after the Potters’ death, Slughorn had been Severus’ one stabilizing influence during his early years at Hogwarts. Albus had frequently ignored the taunting and bullying by the Marauders, and had consistently ignored the young Slytherin's pain and suffering. It had taken many years for Severus to forgive Albus for his failure to protect him and failure to ackowledge how cruelly his precious Gryffindors had treated Severus. Severus' return to Hogwarts had been a learning experience for both Albus and himself. Albus had begun to take the time to really know Severus Snape the man, not Severus Snape the Death Eater, and as a consequence had began to respect the side of the man that few were allowed to see. Albus had pointed out to Severus on many occasions that it was a pity indeed that Severus hid behind his facade of cool severity, and didn't allow others to see the truly remarkable man beneath.

Severus also came to respect Albus Dumbledore, as a great, powerful Wizard, whose insight and knowledge had become a lifeline for Severus. Yes, the man enjoyed being in control and could be hopelessly manipulative at times, but he was inherantly a good man, and he had taught Severus what he needed to survive, and had taught his son as well. Perhaps now was the time for all of them to put past grievances behind them, and enjoy their freedom that they had worked so hard to attain. Yes... Albus Dumbledore had changed Severus' life in many ways; and although he was working through his resentement, on the whole Dumbledore had forced Severus to become the man he was meant to be. Could he be the father he was meant to be now?

Horace, on the other hand, had been his salvation throughout his years at Hogwarts. Horace had fostered his interest in Potions, had taught him Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Duelling Tactics, well beyond the syllabus of seventh year. The result was that by the time Severus had graduated, he was proficient enough in Potions to obtain his Master in the Discipline, and his expert skill in Defence and Dueling had resulted in Severus winning several Dueling competitions througout Britain and the rest of Europe.

It had been little wonder that the Dark Lord wished to recruit the young Snape. What a formidible weapon Severus would make against the Light. Here was an angry, bitter young man, with skill and intelligence beyond his years. It had not been hard for the Dark Lord to poison his thoughts, Severus thought bitterly. He had been ripe for the picking. Severus wished desperately that he could do things differently; take a different path, but he had learnt many years ago, that wallowing in self-pity and agonizing over past mistakes, only crippled your ability to control your emotions and resulted in stagnation and prevented you from doing what you needed to do. No, Severus could not change the past, but he was damned sure that he would be in full control of his future.

Severus turned his attention back to Horace's pale face. Oh Merlin, Severus was wondering if the man were not in shock.

“Horace,” Severus repeated yet again, more forcefully.

Harry leant forward in his chair. “Professor? Are you alright?” he asked anxiously.

Horace pressed his fingers into his forehead. “Yes, I'm fine. I'm just...rather overwhelmed, I must admit.”

“Would you like me to pour you some more tea, sir?” Harry offered politely.

“I'm afraid that I rather need something a little more potent than that my boy,” Horace said in a wobbily voice.

Harry glanced at Severus worriedly. Severus motioned to the liquor cabinet behind Harry, and nodded at Harry, to grant Horace's request.

Harry searched in the cabinet for the most potent brand of firewhiskey he could find and poured a large quantity into a glass. Horace grabbed at the glass greedily. He downed the alcohol as quickly as a thirsty man in the desert, and allowed the warmth to spread to his numb, cold limbs, and befuddled brain.

Now, he could process what Severus had just told him. Severus was murdered by Voldemort's very large snake. Harry used Severus' Horcrux to bring Severus back from the Veil. The backlash from the Dark magic infiltrated Harry's mind. On second thought... Horace motioned to Harry to pour him another glass of firewhiskey. Harry jumped up quickly to comply.

When Horace appeared to be more stable, Severus directed the conversation once again to the matter at hand, well... at least he intended to!

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned to Harry. “Would you please pour me a glass as well, Potter?” He needed some fortification as well.

Harry lifted an eyebrow at his father. Severus pointed to the liquor cabinet.

Now that both men were nursing their liquid courage, Severus brought the conversation back under control.

“Minerva has authorized me to request your return to Hogwarts to once again fill the post of Potions Professor.”

Horace's eyes widened in surprise. He shook his head. “Severus, I appreciate the offer, but I-”

Severus interuppted quickly, to soothe the man's concerns. “Let me reassure you, Horace—you need not consider it a permanent position. I am presently teaching both Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I've recently been awarded the position of Deputy Headmaster.”

Horace was gobsmacked. It was no wonder the man looked positively peaked. Well, more than usual. He was working his fingers to the bone, and with Harry's situation, the man must have little time to work on a solution—not to mention foster a relationship with his newfound son.

Severus sensed the change in Horace's attitude, and took full advantage of his obvious sympathy to Severus' dilemma.

“If you could return until such time as Minerva finds a replacement, Horace, it would not only put us in close proximity-- to perhaps come up with a solution to Harry's problem, but with Harry's unstable mood swings, he is both a danger to himself and others; he requires constant supervision.”

Harry felt his face heat up in embarassment. Honestly, Harry thought. He would be so relieved when he could reclaim control of his life; move back to the Tower, have a normal relationship with Ginny, and not feel like a bloody child who needed a babysitter. It was becoming quite tiresome to have to rely on Severus and his friends to prevent him from doing something stupid. He just wanted his life back; It wasn't fair. He had never been in control of his own destiny--not since he was born. Harry felt a stab of bitter resentment. Voldemort had not only stole his pa-, James, Lily and Severus from him, he had stolen his childhood, and now that he was an adult, Voldemort was still pulling the strings from beyond the grave.

Severus could see the fleeting emotions appear on Harry's face. If they were to have any sort of chance to just be father and son, then a solution had to be found, and as quickly as possibly. All gloves were off now; his son was first and foremost his priority, and Severus would use whatever means at his disposal to bring back some sense of normacly to their lives. Or perhaps normalcy was not the correct term, Severus thought acerbically. Their lives had never been normal in the generally accepted sense of the word. No, Severus vowed, their lives would be better than what they had become accustomed to. If he had to move heaven and earth to make it happen.

Horace sighed. And then.. Severus watched him as he massaged his temples with his fingertips, and Severus wondered if he was thinking about the last battle--it had taken its toll on all of them. But finally, Horace nodded--albeit reluctantly.

"Very well Severus. But-” Horace lifted a finger. “-I will stay only until Harry is well again, and Minerva is able to find a replacement.” Horace downed another shot of firewhiskey.. “Is that agreeable Severus?” He swiveled his head to look at Harry. “Harry?”

Harry had mixed feelings about the whole thing. While he felt like they were taking control of the situation, and that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, he wasn't so sure how he felt about Slughorn returning to Hogwarts to teach Potions. This would be a very debasing experience, to be sure. It won’t take long for Slughorn to realise that I’m a fraud, Harry thought bitterly. Without Severus' book, could he possibly brew a potion without blowing up the classroom? His mother and father were naturally skilled at Potions, why then couldn't Harry brew a potion to save his life? On the other hand, he had peformed quite well during his Owls, without Severus breathing down his neck. Maybe there was hope yet.

“That is quite agreeable, Horace.” Severus gave a pointed look at Harry, who also nodded in agreement. “We both appreciate your help more than you can know, Horace,” Severus said stiffly.

“Once I get settled in Severus, we'll discuss a strategy for reversing the effects of Dark Magic on Harry.” At Harry's distressed look, Horace took pity on him. “Don't worry my boy, we'll get you back to normal . Your father and Albus Dumbledore are two of the most brilliant wizards I've had the pleasure to know; you are in excellent hands. And I, of course, will do everything in my power; utilize the knowledge to the best of my abilities to give you back control of your mind.”

Harry shivered. It scared the hell out of him to realise that he didn't have control of his mind—that he was at the mercy of evil forces, and his decisions were based on false judgement. It did boost his morale somewhat to know that he could rely on his father for support and protection, but Harry still felt extremely vulnerable. But Harry told himself that it would be over soon, and that Dumbledore, Severus and Slughorn were experts in their fields and wouldn`t rest until he was cured.

Horace patted Harry on the shoulder. “It 's going to be alright my boy. You'll see.”

Harry looked at Horace doubtfully. He wished with all his heart that he could believe what the man was saying, and he did trust Snape's assertion that he would do everything in his power to help Harry overcome this possession of Dark Magic, but that didn't mean that Harry felt any less vulnerable, or any less terrified of the lack of control of his mind which he was experiencing..

Noticing Harry's continued agitation, despite Horace's soothing words of concern, Severus felt an almost overwhelming desire to comfort his son, and reassure him that it was not a hopeless cause. Severus found himself raising his arm and stiffly placing it on Harry's shoulders.

Harry looked up in surprise, when he felt the weight of Snape's hand on his shoulder. He held back a smile, as he noticed how rigidly the man was holding himself. At the same time, Harry appreciated the effort and thought that it must have taken a great deal for the reserved man to offer physical comfort.

Severus ignored the startled looks of both Horace and Harry, and swallowed down the impulse to remove his arm. He had to keep reminding himself that this was son, Lily's son, and the boy had given unselfishly of himself to give a second chance to a man, who had treated him so cruelly for so many years. Severus knew that the least that he could do was make an attempt to change his mindset towards the boy, and treat him as a son deserves to be treated by his father.

It wasn't easy though. Severus had not allowed himself to feel any kind of emotion, whether it be joy or sorrow, for many years. Anger was probably the only emotion that he allowed himself to display; and even that he held under strict control. It was not often that he allowed his anger spiral to the point of snapping his tightly-controlled rein on his temper. Severus had always held firm to the notion that allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity, or allowing anger to escalate could only mar your judgement, and could very well be the difference between life and death.

In the Dark Lord's circle, Severus had had to maintain a consistent aura of strength and self-control. The Dark Lord had no pity for cowards, and even less for those who wore their emotions on their sleeve. His self-discipline had served Severus well during his Death Eater years, and having no emotional ties had been a necessity. He could not have afforded to allow himself to care about anyone; least of all his own son—Harry Potter.

And Severus had to remind himself constantly that he was no longer enslaved to that madman.

The very behaviour that had saved Severus' life on numerous occasions, was not appropriate in a relationship with his son. Severus wasn't certain though, that it would be that easy to allow himself to develop a healthy relationship with his son. Could he realistically be what Harry needed? He had reached a certain level of pride in having reached the level of trust that Harry had obviously placed in him. Severus was terrified of betraying that trust—of letting his son down.

They said their goodbyes to Horace after the older man assured Harry and Severus that they would be seeing each other shortly.

Harry felt his first glimmer of hope in quite awhile as they walked out of Horace’s door. Severus held his hand on Harry's shoulder until they were halfway down the walk-way, when he pulled it abruptly away, as though he had touched a hot cauldron.

Harry smothered a laugh. His father probably figured that he had reached his quota for physical display of emotion for the next decade!

----

Draco's stomach roiled with anxiety. What the hell did Snape want anyway? Did Snape know? Had he guessed at the dangerous game that the young Slytherin had been playing? The man did seem to have the reputation of somehow discovering your most closely guarded secrets. Many a Slytherin had made the mistake of thinking they had pulled the wool over their Head of House's eyes, only to discover the error of their ways... the hard way.

Panic rose like bile as Draco forced himself to knock on the door to Snape's office. He pushed down the anxiety, telling himself that he was grossly overacting. Even if the man suspected his involvement with news leaks, he didn't have any proof—did he?

“Enter,” a deep voice resounded from within Snape's office.

Draco’s grip on the handle faltered as his moist palm made contact with the metal; his heart pounded against his chest. Honestly! Draco admonished himself; he had faced the Dark Lord with less trepidation. What was it about Snape that was so intimidating? It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that the man could made even Adams quake in his shoes?

Could it be that Snape looked so very tall and threatening in his flowing black robes, that made him resemble a giant vampire bat? Could it be those obsidian eyes that bore a hole right through to your very soul? The man was as graceful and deadly as a black panther. It was all those reasons combined that made Severus a formidable opponent, and whatever the reason for the man's menacing aura, Draco knew that Severus Snape was not a man you wanted as your enemy.

As Draco closed the door behind him, his attention was caught by the newspaper spread out on the desk before him. Even though the newspaper was facing the other way, Draco had no trouble recognizing it as the Daily Prophet.

The one with the headline that read:

HARRY POTTER: THE NEW DARK LORD?

Draco blanched.

Severus sat behind his desk, with his hands folded, and fixed the young Slytherin with a piercing look.

Draco held his arms rigidly by his side, and waited anxiously for Severus to speak first.

If Severus had had any doubts about Draco's guilt, they were immediately dispelled by Draco's behaviour. The boy was obviously looking everywhere but at the newspaper on Severus' desk. The boy was unable to even look directly at him, Severus thought with malicious pleasure. This was too easy. It was like taking candy from a baby. Did this foolish boy really believe that he could outsmart him? He was as arrogant as Lucius if he thought that he was infallible. But studying the boy now, Draco looked anything but confident or arrogant. He looked guilt-ridden and ill-at-ease

“Is something the matter, Mr. Malfoy?” Severus inquired smoothly.

“Uh… no, sir,” Draco stammered nervously, avoiding eye-contact with Severus.

“Sit,” Severus ordered curtly.

Draco quickly complied, trying to keep his glance off of the newspaper, and its glaring headline.

Severus suddenly turned the newspaper around to face Draco, not taking his eyes off the squirming Slytherin.

Draco jerked back instinctively, pressing his back into the hard rungs of the chairr, and his eyes widened in fear when he noticed Severus' cold black eyes pinning him with an accusing glare.

Severus leant forward slightly. “Tell me Mr. Malfoy,” he began slowly, “have you happened to peruse the daily Prophet today, by any chance?”

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, and attempted to paste an innocent look on his transparent features.

“No sir, I don't read such trash,” he said haughtily.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Yes sir, I have better things to do than waste my money or my time reading such obvious nonsense,” he said disdainfully; all the while, hoping that Snape was buying his story.

“Really, Mr. Malfoy?” Severus rose from his seat, grabbed the newspaper and shoved it in front of Draco's face.

Draco's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his eyes grew wide with fear.

“So you know nothing about the rumours that Mr. Potter is the next Dark Lord?” Severus sneered. Or who might have been the anonymous informant from within the walls of Hogwarts?" He quoted.

“Well...I had heard rumours of course sir, but I know nothing about the story,” he denied vehemently.

Severus walked around to his desk, and pulled out another newspaper from the top drawer. He unfolded it and once again shoved the newspaper in front of Draco's face.

It was the earlier edition of the newspaper where Draco had leaked the story about Potter being Severus' son. Draco licked his lips nervously and tried to dampen his rising panic. Oh Merlin! He knows! Draco felt cornered, and wondered how the hell he was going to extricate himself out of this situation. He had become quite adept throughout the years, of weaseling himself out of sticky situations, but he had an inkling that it was not going to be so easy to convince his irate Head of House that he had nothing to do with the leaks. It was very difficult to lie to the man. Not only had Snape made it abundantly clear in his first year at Hogwarts, that lying would not be tolerated within Slytherin House, but the man had an uncanny knack for knowing when you were lying, and forcing the truth from your traitorous lips.

“Curious, isn't it?” Severus traced his thin lips with a long pale finger. “Once again, a story appears in the Daily Prophet, based on the information given by an anonymous source within Hogwarts.”

“Yes, that is odd, sir,” Draco laughed nervously. “Perhaps the House Elves?”

Severus' expression grew stormy. “This is not a laughing matter, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I'm sorry, sir.” Draco's face flushed with the reprimand.

Severus' patience snapped. “I will not play games with you, Mr. Malfoy.”

Severus leant in closer to the boy, and placed both hands on the back of the chair, on either side of Draco’s head.

“I have anonymous sources at Hogwarts as well, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus said in a silky voice. “And do you know what they tell me?”

Draco gulped nervously. “N-no Sir,” he stammered.

Severus removed his hands from the back of the chair. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

“They tell me, Mr. Malfoy, that you've been skulking about...hiding in the shadows.” He paused a moment. “Eavesdropping.” Draco paled. “More specifically, you've been spotted eavesdropping at the door to my office, and the Headmistress' office.”

Draco scrambled to think up a believable lie, but came up short, so he manipulated the truth somewhat.

“Well, I wouldn't call it eavesdropping exactly, sir,” Draco hedged.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the boy's impertinence. “And what would you call it, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I was coming to see you sir, and when I heard that you were with someone, I left right away--I swear, sir.” Draco lied smoothly. “As for eavesdropping on Professor McGonagall… I have no idea what you mean.”

Severus clenched his teeth. “I'm losing my patience with you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm giving you one last chance to tell the truth, or suffer the consequences. And trust me Mr. Malfoy, they won't be pleasant.”

Severus came closer to the quivering boy. Draco knew that his options were limited. Either way, he was in trouble and he knew it.

“Mr. Malfoy—I believe you know how I feel about lying, and how I deal with liers. While I would be displeased...to put it mildly-- should I discover that you were responsible for planting these stories, it would pale in comparison to my reaction to discovering that you had told me a bold-faced lie.”

Severus leant on his desk and crossed his arms; staring down at the white-faced boy before him. Severus still believed that Draco wasn't a lost cause, despite his error in judgement. He would not be soft on the boy, but he did understand what Draco must be feeling, but it wouldn't do to be too lenient with him either.

“You have one last chance to come clean, Mr. Malfoy...Draco,” Severus added softly.

Draco's eyes met Severus. It had been a long time since Severus had called him Draco.

“Trust me Draco, the consequences will be much more severe if I find that you've lied to me.”

“I will ask you one more time, Draco. Were you, or were you not responsbile for these leaks to the Daily Prophet?”

Draco lowered his eyes. “Yes, sir...I was.”

----

Harry's hand froze in mid-air as he was about to knock on the door to Severus ' office.

He shook his head. Had he just heard what he thought he had?

Malfoy was responsible for those stories? Six-and-a-half years of crap he'd endured from that git, and now this? Fury overwhelmed Harry, and before he could stop to think about his actions, he stormed off back down to Severus' quarters to look for his wand. He'd teach that little ferret a lesson and he didn't care if he ended up in Azkaban for it!

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.

"There is no way that I'm getting in that," Harry declared quite determinedly, through his chattering teeth, after dipping one toe in the ice cold water. The hair on his pale legs stood up and the goose bumps were popping up all over his shivering body.

"Hmm...we'll see about that," smirked Severus with a swish of his wand.

Harry's body jerked quite suddenly, and before he knew it, he nose-dived into the icy depths of the pool.

"I can't swim, you greasy git," shrieked Harry in terror; just before he was consumed by the frothy water.

Severus felt a flutter of panic in his stomach. He cast a quick buoyancy charm, and Harry bobbed up like an apple, spurting water from his mouth like a fish.

He glared at Severus. "And just how is drowning going to help me learn Occlumency better," sputtering and coughing, as though to prove his point.

Severus smirked at him. "Do you honestly believe that I would allow you to drown Potter?"

"Yes," Harry snapped.

"Ye of little faith," Severus said mockingly.

Severus incanted an impermeable charm to render his robes waterproof. He breathed a silent sigh of relief that Harry had suffered no ill-effects. Fatherhood was proving to be quite tiresome. He'd been forced to deal with emotions that had never surfaced before. Worry, and fear over his son's well-being. Severus honestly didn't know how he would have handled a young child. Although being the father of a teenager was definitely giving him grey hairs.

Severus didn't respond but swished his wand once again. Harry flipped over on his back, and gritted his teeth, but before he could curse his father, the water suddenly warmed substantially and aromatic vapours rose from the surface of the water and wafted to his nostrils, and every muscle in his body that Harry had clenched, relaxed until he felt that he was floating.

Harry had never felt so relaxed in his life. The sun filtered in through the high stain-glass windows sending a rainbow of colours as the light bounced off the shimmering water. A mermaid with fiery red hair flitted from window to window, singing a hypnotic sweetly-mournful song. Harry felt like he was in a safe cocoon of warmth and he closed his eyes for a moment. It was as though all the stress and chaos that he'd experienced in the past few weeks melted into nothingness. He felt as though he was floating on jelly, and the rhythmic motion of the water beneath him, lulled Harry into a sense of careless abandonment. He was flying through the clouds, and harsh reality was a universe away. All the burdens and that had been placed upon his frail shoulders since the moment he was born, was exiled to the farthest recesses of his mind, under lock and key.

Severus felt a glimmer of satisfaction when he saw his son's young face; peaceful in its repose, with his eyes closed and a small smile touching his lips. His heart twisted; this is how Harry should have looked all the time, he thought with a pang of regret. It was unfathomable that a young man of just seventeen years old should appear so world-weary, and tense. It wasn't fair that his son had had to endure such pain and suffering, such tragedy. The boy had lived through experiences in his short life that most men twice his age had never had to endure.

Well, enough of recriminations and self-pity, Severus admonished himself. It never accomplished anything, regretting past actions, as he'd told himself and Harry a thousand times before.

"Okay, Potter. I believe that you've lazed around long enough. Time to get out now"

Harry's eyes flew open as the water cooled suddenly. His teeth were chattering again, and he was sure that his lips had turned blue. He glared at his father who had his arms crossed, staring at him with a satisfied smirk on his face. With a wave of his wand, Severus lifted the buoyancy charm, and Harry began to sink again.

"I still don't know how to swim you know, you slimy-" were Harry's last words just before swallowed a mouthful of chlorinated water. Just when Harry thought that he would meet a watery grave, he sprung up like a Jack-in-the-box. He felt a splatter of water on his face, and looked incredulously at the ducky floater before him.

Severus smirked at him. "Put it on Potter, and it'll pull you to the edge of the pool."

Harry glared at his father. "I really hate you sometimes you know," he grumbled.

The floater pulled Harry to the edge of the pool, where a smirking Severus put his arm out to pull him in. If Harry had of had the strength and the will, he would have pulled the greasy git into the pool with him. However, since he presently had a rubber ducky floater around his waist--was shivering, his teeth were chattering, and the minute fact that he couldn't swim, made him rethink that plan.

Harry grabbed onto Severus' hand and gritted his teeth as Severus yanked him unceremoniously out of the pool, with the ducky floater still around his waist. Harry was just grateful that Ginny wasn't here to see this undignified scene.

Ooh, the large fluffy towel that Severus had handed him, had been spelt with a heating charm, and felt so warm and cozy against his chilled skin. He'd be damned if he would thank the git though, Harry thought angrily.

"Why don't you go get dressed, and we'll go have some dinner. Tomorrow we'll start on the next phase of your preparations for Occlumency training," Severus quirked his lips in amusement.

Harry scoffed. "Oh, and what does that involve exactly?"

Severus chuckled. "You'll see."

Harry looked at his father suspiciously.

"Never fear my son. I would never allow harm to come to you."

"Hmm, why am I finding that hard to believe?" Harry huffed.

----

Slap. "Harry!"

"Ow!" Harry screeched. "Why'd you hit me?" Harry asked in a wounded voice.

"Because your father's going to be home soon, and I’d really rather he not find me in your bedroom, lying on your bed, and, doing... you know--" She blushed furiously.

"Oh come on Ginny. We're adults, and we really weren't even doing anything." Unfortunately, he added under his breath. He pulled Ginny closer to him. She tried to get up, but her legs were firmly wrapped in the blanket.

A creak of a door opening in the background sobered the both of them into action.

"Harry, where are you?" A deep voice asked from the other room

Ginny sent a horrified look to Harry. "Oh my God! He's home," she whispered, as she frantically tried to release her captured limbs from the throes of the twisted blanket.

"Calm down Ginny." He helped her untwist her legs and pulled her off his bed. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, pulled her close and kissed her lightly on the lips. Oh Merlin, he thought. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to endure this celibacy. It would seem that a lot of cold showers were in his future, as they had both decided that the time just wasn't right to give into their desires. Harry began to regret that decision.

"Calm down?" Ginny exclaimed. "Your father lives in the Victorian Ages, Harry. How do you think that he's going to react, finding me in your bedroom?"

Before Harry had a chance to respond, there was a brisk knock, and the door swung open to reveal a very irritated looking Snape. That irritation turned to tight-lipped disapproval upon noticing that the covers on Harry's bed were in disarray, and Harry and Ginny's clothes were disheveled.

"It's not what you think Severus," Harry said quickly, his face flaming.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Oh do enlighten me Potter."

"We were just, uh-" Harry tried desperately to come up with something that would be less incriminating, but no matter what scenario he came up with-- it sounded bad!

Severus pursed his lips in disapproval. "It is highly inappropriate for a young lady to be in a young gentleman’s chambers alone, without a chaperone."

Harry stared disbelievingly at his father. He burst out laughing. His father had a wonderful sense of humour. Who would have thought?

Suddenly his lips stuck together, and he stared wide-eyed at his father. Oops, he wasn't joking! The man looked furious.

"Obviously, I've not made my position clear enough. You are strictly forbidden from having Miss Weasley or any other female for that matter-"

"He'd better not have any other female-" Ginny stopped abruptly at Severus' murderous look.

"-In your bedroom. As a matter of fact, unless I'm present, you are not to have your female-uh, acquaintances in our quarters at all. Is that clear Potter?" He hissed.

Harry glared at his father. How the hell do you expect me to answer you stupid git, if my lips have been cemented together?

Severus swished his wand and Harry's lips unstuck. He sputtered and coughed, and glared angrily at his father.

"Don't you think that you're being a little prudish Severus? I mean, c'mon we're not living in the Dark ages."

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. Sometimes Harry was so dense. He just didn't know when to shut up. He just said the first think that came to mind. He really rivaled Ron for sticking his foot in his mouth sometimes. Why couldn't men learn how to smooth situations over, like women were able to? Once again, it seemed as though it would be up to her to play the role of diplomat.

"Sir, we apologise." She sent a warning look to Harry to shut up! "We really weren't doing anything inappropriate-" She began.

"I disagree Miss Weasley, and I'm sure that your parents would agree that a young lady should comport herself with more decorum."

So much for diplomacy. "My parents are a little more open-minded sir," she said through gritted teeth.

"Oh really," Severus sneered. "And do your parents allow you to have Harry in your bedroom?"

"I thought not," Severus said smugly, when Ginny went silent.

"Severus, you are really over-reacting. We're adults and you're totally blowing this out of proportion," Harry said angrily.

"Yes. You are just barely an adult, but Miss Weasley is still a minor, and I don't believe-" Severus held up a finger to silence Ginny's imminent protests, "-that Molly and Arthur would approve of you two frolicking around under the covers."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We weren't frolicking around."

"Then explain to me just what you were doing."

Never mind. There was no way that he was going to explain to Severus, just what they were doing. Better to end this conversation. Right now. His face felt like it was on fire. How embarrassing. He was just too old to be having a conversation about the birds and the bees with his father.

"Now that we've settled that, let me make it perfectly clear. You will abide by my rules while you reside under my roof. I don't care how old you are," he said sternly. "Is that clear?" He narrowed his eyes at Harry's defiant look.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Perfectly." I can't wait till I'm back in the Tower, he grumbled under his breath. He was becoming thoroughly sick of Severus treating him as though he was a little child. Then he felt a pang of guilt. Severus was trying to make up for lost time, and dealing with feelings that were foreign to both of them. Harry knew that many of Severus' views were rather old-fashioned. As a matter of fact, it had taken Harry a long time to get used to the fact, that much of the Wizarding world lives in the dark ages. The whole idea of living without all the so-called Muggle conveniences. Electricity, Muggle appliances such as the telly, and computers, was second nature for the man, even though he had grown up with a Muggle father. A wizard preferred to play chess and read a good book, than to sit in front of a box with moving pictures on it. It boggled the mind. Harry shook his head. He was beginning to feel some affection for the dark man before him, and there were just some idiosyncrasies that he would have to accept from the man. His backward way of thinking would have to be one, he grudgingly accepted. Besides...perhaps he could bring his father into the twentieth century, eventually.

Severus suddenly remembered why he had been looking for Harry to begin with before he had gotten sidetracked by other matters, he thought disgustingly.

"Now, there are some things that we need to discuss, so perhaps it would be prudent to move to the parlour."

Harry put an arm around Ginny's shoulders, as she still looked extremely insulted by Severus' insinuations. He ignored the dark look that Severus sent them.

After they were seated in the parlour, Severus' expression became serious.

"Horace has just arrived Harry, and he wishes to meet with you, myself, Minerva and Albus, to discuss how we are going to proceed with extracting the Dark Magic that's taken over your mind."

Harry shuddered. He really wished that Severus wouldn't emphasize all the time how he was practically being possessed.

"I'd like for Ginny, Ron and Hermione to be part of the discussion Severus," Harry said firmly.

Severus nodded. "Of course. They will be an integral part of your healing process. From what I understand--from what I have researched myself, it will not be a matter of a simple spell, and then you'll be cured. Anyway, I don't wish to discuss this further until we are all a part of the conversation."

"So when does Slughorn want to meet?" Harry asked worriedly. He just really wanted to get this over, as quickly as possible. Harry was tired of constantly living in fear of losing control.

"Professor Slughorn to you," Severus admonished.

Oh for Merlin's sake, the man was wound up tighter than a top. He really should take out that giant potion's book that was stuck up his arse.

"We've arranged to meet in Albus' office, this evening.”Perhaps you could inform Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger to be there promptly at seven this evening."

"Yeah, okay. Let's go Gin," Harry said quickly pulling her up by the arm in his haste to escape his father's watchful eyes.

"Uh, just a moment," Severus' hard voice stopped them in their haste.

"Do I need to remind you to keep control of your emotions, as we've been practicing? You'll exercise caution?" He posed it more as an order than a question.

Harry knew that Severus was referring to the incident with Draco, and Harry was in actuality a little concerned at how he would control himself the next time he confronted the berk. For the past couple of days though, Severus had had him do all manner of relaxation techniques, and exercises to learn self-control—all in preparation of their Occlumency training, of which Severus assured Harry, would be a much different, much more pleasant experience, than it had been in the past.

Although Severus' methods were highly unorthodox, such as the experience in the pool earlier today, Harry was beginning to understand how such techniques would be beneficial in training and strengthening his mind. Severus had explained that very often when we lose control; it is because we've allowed our emotions to overtake our better sense. While feeling emotion, of course, is an essential part of being a human-being, allowing it to dominate our body and mind it is often detrimental to our mental and physical health; thus the exercises that Severus had planned to teach Harry involved how to control heart rate and blood pressure. Some of the techniques that Severus had, and was planning on focusing on, were very simple Muggle methods, such as exercises--including yoga, aerobics, and running, which Severus insisted helped the body produce endorphins that would enable Harry to cultivate a more peaceful and happier frame of mind.

What was most surprising to Harry though, was that although he was still battling Dark forces to maintain control of his own mind, since he had started on a regiment of healthy eating (at Severus' insistence that empty calories such as sugary confections, i.e. the chocolate frogs that Harry was so fond of, was destroying his body.) and regular exercise, Harry felt stronger and healthier. He'd never admit it to Severus, but the man really did know what he was talking about. He had thought that all these ridiculous health and dietary changes that Severus insisted on were a waste of time, but Harry had to admit that Severus' claim that body and mind were one was not a load of bull after all.

While Severus' fussing was beginning to seriously irritate him, Harry held his tongue, because he had not spent the last seventeen years, yearning for a parent who loved and cared for him, only to alienate what he finally had. Oh, of course there were times that he thought, that I'm much too old for this, and it's too late now to have what he'd always wanted—after all, he was all grown-up now, but then he thought well, maybe he'd allow it for his father's sake. The man deserved to have someone to care for and to fuss over, even if Severus would be wholly affronted if Harry were to word it that way, and would vehemently deny such actions.

Harry nodded in affirmation. "I'll be careful Severus. Don't worry."

Harry snickered when Severus bristled at the word worry.

"I'll control myself. I'll try not to knock off any of your Slytherins. Cross my heart, hope to die stick a needle in my eye."

"Potter-" Severus growled.

Harry laughed. "Relax Severus. You really need to lighten up--you know that?"

"I suggest that you take your leave Mr. Potter, before I show you just how light I can be."

Harry's face blanched. "Uh, yeah. C'mon Ginny, “Harry yanked her arm, and dragged her all the way down the corridor, and up to the Tower.

Once they were in the Common room, which was surprisingly empty for a Sunday afternoon, Harry grabbed Ginny in his arms and pulled her onto the sofa, kissing her soundly.

"Harry! You really like to live dangerously, don't you?" She said sternly, while trying to stifle a laugh. Honestly, Harry was really testing her willpower these days. He wanted to snog her at the most inopportune moments. It was getting quite tricky to avoid being caught in a compromising situation, when the silly boy was pulling her into broom-closets, under the stands in the Quidditch pitch, and worst of all trying to hide them both under his invisibility cloak! Harry likes to live on the edge; that was for sure. He had always seemed to be drawn to danger and adventure like a moth to a flame, but this was making it hard to catch her breath. Mind you, she was put in Gryffindor for a reason, and that flaming red hair of hers, was not a wig, so if anyone could keep up with Harry's adventurous spirit, it was Ginny Weasley. Life was never boring with the Boy-Who-Lived!

"Aw, c'mon Ginny. One more-" He smothered her mouth in a kiss, before she could protest, and then started tickling her.

"Harry! Hahahaha...Harrrrrrry--c'm-mon st--op right now,"

"Oh, alright. Party pooper." He laughed.

She wagged a finger at him. "That is quite enough from you Mr. Potter," She said sternly.

"I think that you've been spending too much time with my father. You sound just like him," Harry chuckled.

Ginny looked horrified. She'd come around to respecting the man. Somewhat. But, she certainly didn't want to become a carbon-copy of the uptight, anal...uh, maybe this train of thought was counter-productive. He was Harry's father after all, and the man did care about Harry, even if he could be a total git at times.

Harry twirled Ginny's red locks around his finger and sighed. "I'm sorry about all that with my father Ginny."

"It's alright Harry. You know I was a little pissed off at first, but I guess that he's just acting like a typical father,” she laughed lightly.”I cannot believe I just said that about Snape."

Harry scowled. "Well you know that he's been acting like a right mother hen lately. I'll be glad when everything's back to normal and I've moved back up here. I'm feeling a little claustrophobic, with him hovering over me constantly."

Ginny looked at him thoughtfully. "If anyone had told me a few months ago that Snape was your Dad, and that he would be acting like an over-protective father towards Harry Potter of all people, I would have thought that they were bloody barmy, and reserved them a room in St. Mungos' psychiatric ward."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, pretty wild, isn't it."

Harry looked at his watch. "Where the hell are Hermione and Ron? It's almost time to go meet with Slughorn, and we've seen neither hide nor hare of either one of them all day."

"I think that they went to Hogsmeade for the day," Ginny offered. She rolled her eyes. "Hermione dragged Ron there, because she heard that a new antique bookstore just opened and that they had some rare tomes on ancient Wizarding history, spells, Charms and such. Oh and even some Muggle books that she's been wanting to get."

"No wonder they're taking so long," Harry chuckled. "Hermione in a bookstore is like a little kid in a sweet shop. Honestly, if I read that much my brain would hurt from over-stimulation."

"I like you just the way you are Harry. Don't go hurting your pretty little brain by becoming too studious."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "Hmm...Are you saying that you like me stupid? My marks aren't that bad," he said indignantly. "Well...maybe in Potions," he corrected.

Ginny laughed. "You know that I don't bother with marks Harry. I'm not Hermione." She crinkled her brow in thought. "Come to think of it, it's kind of odd that someone like Hermione would fall for Ron. He'd rather play Exploding Snap or Wizard's Chess, than open a book."

"Well, you know what they say. Opposites attract...and all."

"Oh, and are we opposites too?" She asked mischievously.

Harry's expression became serious. "I like to think of it more that we're soul mates; that we complete each other."

Ginny felt a rush of emotion. "I feel the same way Harry." She cupped his face gently. "You're a hard man to catch Harry Potter--and a hard man to forget." She looked at him with a touch of sadness.

"When you left with Hermione and Ron, to go look for Horcruxes, I thought I'd lost you forever," she said in a husky voice.

"So did I Ginny. I hope--I mean...I hope you understand why I had to let you go," he asked hesitatingly. They had never really dealt with their emotions after he'd defeated Voldemort. They had just really continued where they'd left off, but Harry was sure that Ginny must have harboured some resentment at him for having left her so abruptly without an explanation. He'd never really apologised either.

He looked deeply into her warm brown eyes. "I'm sorry Gin. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just trying to protect you."

Ginny took his hand and squeezed it. "I know Harry. I always knew. I was hurt at first, yes, but I did understand later that you were only trying to protect me."

Harry felt a lump in his throat. It all came rushing back to him, as though it was yesterday. All the raw emotion and fear that he'd held in—thinking of all he would be giving up...if he died. The hardest part was thinking of Ginny—of never seeing her again. He had to pinch himself to believe that he was sitting here with her; that he had survived, and that Voldemort was finally gone. Sometimes it seemed surreal. Harry was so used to having to worry about everyone he cared for. He had never been allowed even a small happiness, lest he become too complacent and forget the threat that had existed for all of them. He could never truly be happy—but only for a fleeting moment, and then it was gone, and reality hit him like a ton of bricks.

"I couldn't let him know about us Gin. He would have come after you, and I didn't think that I'd survive, and I couldn't sacrifice you for-" Harry choked up with emotion.

"It's alright Harry. Everything's alright now. It's over, and we've got our whole lives ahead of us. And nothing's going to break us apart, ever again," she said fiercely.

Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, and just held her for a few moments; so tightly as if he held on hard enough, then nothing could ever separate them again.

Harry took Ginny's ring finger on her left hand. "When you turn seventeen, I swear I'm putting a ring on that finger," he promised. "So everyone will know that you're mine--That I'm yours."

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't need a ring to prove that Harry," she said quietly.

"I know that, but, I want everyone else to know it," Harry said firmly. "Besides, that'll tell the other blokes to keep their paws off my girl," he smiled.

"As much as I appreciate the thought Harry, I'm no wilting rose. I can take care of myself, and I know just how to get rid of unwanted suitors," she said slyly.

Harry chuckled. "I don't doubt it, my little spitfire. Wouldn't want to get on your bad side. I've seen your temper."

Ginny looked at him sternly. "And don't you forget it Mr. Potter. As long as you stay in line, we'll be just fine."

Harry saluted. "Yes Ma'am," said mockingly.

Ginny whacked him.

"I'm going to have bruises all over if you keep that up Gin," he chuckled.

"Well, behave yourself then." She looked at the clock on the wall. "Uh, we'd better go Harry. It's ten to seven. Maybe we could just leave a note for Hermione and Ron, explaining everything."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, better not be late, or my father will probably come looking for us."

"Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't put it past him," she said caustically.

Ginny grabbed a parchment and quill off the desk by the wall, and scribbled a quick note for Hermione and Ron to meet them in Dumbledore's office.

They reluctantly dragged themselves off the couch, and hurried off for their meeting.

Harry nerves were on edge, and he took a deep breath before he knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office. Ginny squeezed his hand in reassurance.

Harry hadn't faced Dumbledore since just after he had viewed his father's memories in the Pensieve. He had really wanted to meet with the man alone, and apologise for his behaviour. Upon reflection, perhaps Dumbledore's actions were not so inconceivable. Severus had been a different man then...Dumbledore had been a different man--circumstances had been different. Harry knew now that sometimes you had to make decisions that broke your heart--that went against every one of your preconceived notions. Sometimes you made decisions for others for whom you were responsible, and although it may seem that you made them lightly, and without regret, sometimes you made the only decision possible although, it was clear only to you.

Harry understood that now. As coldhearted as it may seem; sometimes you must do what is important for the great good--sometimes it was the only course of action. And, while a cruel and harsh reality as it may seem, what was a little child's happiness compared to his precious life? What was a man's hope for the future--if there was no future at all? While the Wizarding World was in the clutches of a cruel and power-hungry man, there had been no room for sentimentality, no room for compassion. Too many lives were at stake. There were bound to be sacrificial lambs--there were bound to be casualties. Severus and Harry had been two of those pawns in the chess game of life. Life was cruel and harsh, but it would also be sweet and kind. The key was vision. You had to keep on moving and living in the present, and keep those dreams of the future alive. When you became complacent, then you withered and died. No, Harry thought. There is too much to look forward to. I have everything I want now--a father, good friends...Ginny. Anger and revenge had no part in his life anymore. He had to make amends with Dumbledore, he had to become whole again, and he had to get his life back. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt like the clouds were parting and letting the sun filter through. Happiness came in little bits in life, and you had to grab it before it was gone.

Harry felt a pang of guilt when he saw the Headmaster's hesitant smile.

"Harry," he said simply.

"Hello Professor," Harry said with a small smile. He tried very hard to convey with a simple look how very much he still cared about the man, and how much he regretted hurting him.

"How are you doing Harry? I know things have been a little difficult for you. For that I apologise, and-," Dumbledore stopped for a moment, "I regret many things my boy; but most of all for any pain that I may have caused you and your father."

Harry flushed. This was something that he would have rather dealt with in private. "I understand sir. I know that you did your best, and I think that all things considered, things have turned out quite well," he said simply.

Albus nodded. He understood what was not said. It was about forgiveness and starting over.

As usual it was up to Severus to dispense with the sentimental crap, and restore order and control of the situation.

"Perhaps it is for the best that you're trapped in a picture frame Albus. Otherwise, I fear that we'd all be holding hands and singing Cumbaya," he sneered.

Other than Harry and Severus, who had had experience with the Muggle world, everyone else looked perplexed at the reference.

Albus, however, chuckled at Severus' familiar irascible demeanour. He smiled and clapped his hands together. "Well then, shall we get started?"

"Novel idea," Severus said sarcastically.

"Severus," Albus warned.

Harry nodded hello to McGonagall and Slughorn, and quickly took his seat before Severus popped a gasket. The man was standing at the back of the room, with his arms crossed and glowering at everyone, while tapping his foot impatiently.

There was a knock at the door, and Minerva looked perplexed. "Who could that be?"

"Oh, we told Hermione and Ron to meet us here," Harry explained.

Minerva nodded, swished her wand and the door swung opened, causing a red-faced Ron to fall flat on his face.

Harry snickered. Ron glared daggers at him.

Severus scowled. "Well? Ply yourself off the floor Weasley, and take a seat. The instructions were to be here at, seven o'clock-- promptly," he sneered.

Ron gritted his teeth, grabbed a chair and plunked himself down angrily. He wanted to tell the man to shove it, but his Gryffindor bravery failed him at that moment.

Hermione, wisely tried to blend into the furniture, and unobtrusively took a chair and sat down. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. They had literally gotten back from shopping, saw the note, and she had grabbed a protesting Ron's hand and pulled him here all the way from the Tower. He had wailed that he was hungry and that the last thing he wanted to do was be trapped in an office with, not one, count them--four professors, one of whom was an uptight control freak. So it was a very irritable, very hungry Ron who sat with in the chair with his arms crossed, glaring at not only Harry's greasy git of a father, but at Hermione as well, for having strong-armed him into coming.

Severus was on the brink of losing control. He clenched his fists, hugging his arms to his side. “If we are we quite finished with all these disturbances, can we proceed,” he barked.

Ron glared at Harry, who understood the message very well, that it was all his fault for Snape berating him, not only for insisting that he come, but for having an evil bat as a father. Harry smiled at his best friend, only making Ron scowl even more.

Harry chuckled to himself. He could hear Ron's stomach grumbling and knew that the boy was fierce when he was hungry. He'd have to make it up to him by convincing the House Elves to prepare a feast for the ravenous teen.

“Now,” Dumbledore's soft, yet authoritive voice interrupted his reverie. “ Shall we begin. Horace, would you like to explain what your research has uncovered thus far?”

“Yes of course Albus,” Horace nodded.

Harry thought that the man looked a trifle bit nervous, which didn't help to settle his nerves at all.

“Now, Severus and I have been discussing what means would be most effective for reversing the obvious effects of the backlash of Dark Magic that Harry experienced while performing a Dark ritual.”

Harry slunk in his chair. He really hated being the center of attention under any circumstances, but when his stupid decisions and bad judgement were continuously thrown back in his face...well let's just say that it was embarrassing.

“Miss Granger has done some research into the matter and Severus and I both agree that since it was Dark Magic that caused Harry's problem, counteracting it's affect would require the use of White Magic.”

Harry looked up in surprise. Why hadn't they thought of it before now? He had always know that Hermione was brilliant, but he still was surprised that Severus and Slughorn had trusted her judgement to that extent. Of course he knew that Severus had asked Hermione for her help in researching the matter, as his time was limited because it was taken up with--accompanied by a scowl from the dark man, quote: (Oh, how Harry had wanted to throttle the ugly git) Babysitting his errant son.

“Since Albus,” Horace continued, “is quite knowledgeable in the art of White Magic, he has compiled a list of necessary articles that will be required for the ritual. I rather hate to use the term ritual, as it implies Dark Magic, and White Magic is so pure that it literally cleanses the soul of any traces of evil, or even of negative influences. It requires the utmost care in the preparation of the Potions that will be needed for the ceremony.” Here, he glanced at Severus. “Severus and I will be working in conjunction to prepare the Potions which, as I'm sure that you've all guessed by now, have to be prepared in a pure, and sterile enviornment. The cauldrons and the stirring instruments involved, all must be cleansed and purified.”

“Miss Granger. Were you able to find the tome that we were searching for with the specific ingrediants necessary for the prepartion of the Potion?”

“Yes sir,” I believe I found the perfect book. It is a veritiable treasure tove of White magic spells, charms and recipes for all sorts of Potions necessary in White Magic rituals,” she said excitement lacing her tone. She had been quite anxious to help and it had proved very interesting searching through the shelves containing hundreds of ancient Muggle and Wizarding books on a wide array of subjects, but even researching about White Magic had held her fascination. Performing the ritual, and preparing the ingrediants had her intrigued. While researching the Horcrux and the tomes of Dark Magic to bring Snape back from the Veil, had filled her with an incredible sense of foreboding and evil, the thought of using White Magic to reverse it's effects filled her with a sense of peace and goodness, that she was hard pressed to explain.

“Now then,” Horace began speaking again. Once we have all the ingrediants necessary, and the Potions are prepared, we will begin the actual ritual.” Horace turned to Harry. “There are steps to prepare you Harry, which I understand that Severus has already began.”

Severus nodded. “ I have been teaching him meditation and relaxation techniques, and have begun teaching him Occlumency.”

Harry crinkled his eyes in confusion. “ I thought that was all just for the Occlumency.”

“Yes, but it all ties in together Harry,” he explained impatiently. “Trust me Harry,” he said with a long look at Harry that meant more to Harry than he could say.

"As we've already talked about--mind, body and soul must be in harmony. For the White Magic ritual to be effective, we must slowly prepare you to withstand the onslaught of powerful White Magic. It would not do to have the White and Dark Magic wage a war against each other, in your mind.”

Harry shuddered. It was beginning to sound like an Exorcism, and while he like the idea of White Magic and the purity of it all, it all was beginning to be overwhelming to him. Why couldn't anything be simple? Why couldn't they just mutter an incantation, and it all be over?

“Now, I believe that we could all use some rest and a good meal,” Albus said with a knowing look at Ron, who flushed in embarrassment. “So I believe we'll adjourn this meeting and meet again when the initial preparations are in place.”

Harry wearily lifted himself up and left with Hermione, Ron and Ginny to find the grumpy Ron some substance.

Harry spent the rest of the evening chatting with his friends in the Gryffindor Common Room, laughing and joking. Once Ron's stomach was full, he was back to his easy-going self once more, so with his arm around Ginny, and enjoying the banter between Hermione and Ron bickering like usual, Harry just stayed quiet and drank in the warmth. He couldn't wait to be back in the Tower for good. Strangely enough though, he would miss his living with his father. The man was a little overbearing, but all in all Harry enjoyed spending quiet evenings with the him, playing chess, sometimes helping him to brew potions, and getting to know his father a little better.

Perhaps Ron would scoff at the idea, but Harry was beginning to realise that he had much in common with Severus. It was strange, but if anyone had ever told him that he would be drawn to Snape when he had a problem and that he was beginning to develop a blinding trust in the man, and that he would put his life in his hands, Harry would have thought they were insane. Harry was finding that he really enjoyed their late night conversations about an array of subject matter, and he was quite amazed how knowledgeable and insightful the man really was. There was much more to Severus Snape than met the eye. It was a shame really, that he didn't allow others to see what an intelligent and interesting man he was. Oh, no one could accuse the man of being charming or a social butterfly of course--as a matter of fact he was sarcastic and downright nasty most of the time, but when he let his defences down, and allowed you to see who he truly was, Harry found that he was a veritiable fountain of knowledge, and actually gave some good advice.

Unfortunately, Harry was very hot-headed, as was his father, and it was this stubborness that was at many times a stumbling block in their relationship. Harry had a feeling that neither one of them would be changing that about their personalities anytime soon, so sometimes he was careful to avoid sensitive subject matter that he knew would set the man off. Afterall, Harry thought—he may be stubborn but he was definitely more reasonable than his father. Actually, Harry was loathe to admit it to anyone else, but at times he rather enjoyed provoking the man a bit, just so they could have an all out battle of wills. What would be the fun, if everything went smoothly all the time, he reckoned. Harry chuckled to himself. Yes, it defnitely added spice to their relationship. Harry never did anything halfway, and he hated monotony and status-quo, so in that aspect, his father and him were well-matched. Like father, like son. Neither would conform just to adhere to socially accepted rules, so in that they were of like mind.

----

Harry felt himself being shaken lightly. “Harry, It's time to go. You've missed curfew again,” Ginny said worriedly.

Harry had fallen asleep with his head on Ginny's shoulder. He was really comfortable there, and had no desire to detach himself from her soft shoulder, where he could smell her freshly-washed hair, and feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“Wh-aa-t?” He said groggily.

“C'mon, let's go,” Ginny yanked him up off the couch. She shepherded a sleepy Harry to his quarters, where of course they were greeted by a seriously irritated Severus.

He raised an eyebrow at Harry's tousled hair, and sent a questioning look at Ginny.

“Uh, he fell asleep on my shoulder,” She explained cautiously, lest the man think they were doing something inappropriate again. She definitely had no desire to revisit that discussion again.

To her surprise, Severus simply nodded, and put his arm around Harry's shoulders.

“Come son,” Severus said in a surprisingly soft tone. “I think that your bed is calling you.” He began to lead Harry to his room, leaving Ginny standing in the doorway, with her mouth agape. He was putting Harry to bed?

Severus turned his head. “Stop standing there with your mouth open Miss Weasley. You might catch some flies,” he sneered. With a flick of his wand, he shut the door in Ginny's face.

Ginny stood with her mouth open for a few more minutes and stared at the closed door. Just when she thought that she had the man figured out, he did something so fatherly. She could just picture him leading a younger, sleepy, pyjama-clad Harry with tousled hair, to bed and reading him a bed-time story. She shook her head. There were just some things that would not lend themselves to the imagination.

----

There was a brisk knock at the door. She threw a few more logs on the crackling fire, and wiped the soot from her hands on her faded yellow apron. Her brow crinkled in worry. She retrieved her wand from her pocket. No one ever came to call, especially at this late an hour. She pulled the curtains open hesitatingly and peeked out.

She reluctantly opened the door a crack. “What do you want?” She spat.

“A couple more of my chickens have gone missing again,” he glared at her accusingly. “and there's nothing left but blood and feathers.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” she sneered. “but I don't see what that's got to do with me. Now if you don't mind, it's late.” She began to close the door, but he put his booted foot to block it.

He pointed his finger at her. “I know that son of yours had something to do with this.” He staggered slightly; she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

She held on tighter to her wand.

“Go home old man,” she said in a dangerous voice, “or missing chickens will be the least of your worries,” she threatened.

He felt a flutter of fear churning in his stomach. He backed away, and she slammed the door in his face.

He rushed up the pathway, hesitating only once to look back at the small cottage. Smoke billowed from the chimney, and the tangy smell of burning wood, filled his nostrils.

There was evil in that house, he thought. He could feel it. Taste it. Smell it.

He ran the rest of the way up the hill, and opened the door to his cottage, with trembling hands. He locked the door behind him, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from where he'd thrown it on the sofa. He didn't stop shaking until he had drank himself into a stupor.

The next day, rumours spread like wildfire that there was yet another mysterious death that plagued the village of Little Hangleton.

Harry shot up in bed.

Bathed in sweat and tangled in the blankets, pale and trembling, he clutched his forehead. This was impossible, he thought in panic. His scar was on fire. But he barely had a scar anymore. Voldemort was gone. Wasn't he?

Harry ran to the bathroom, and stared at his pale face in the mirror. He removed his hand from his forehead and his stomach lurched in fear, when he saw that where his faded scar was, it was indeed inflamed and red.

Harry held up the lantern a little closer, and stared at himself in the mirror. Glassy eyes and a chalky-white face stared back. Rivulets of sweat rolled down his pale cheeks, and he felt so cold... So very cold. He couldn't stop shivering; His pyjamas were soaked with perspiration.

Since he didn't have his wand, Harry changed into a clean pair of pyjamas, and a thick, red terry-cloth dressing gown. He slipped on a pair of matching slippers and grappled in the dark until he made his way to the living room. He hadn't thought to bring the lantern with him, but thankfully, there was still a small fire burning in the grate. Harry threw on a couple of more logs, and stared at the flickering flames. The heat just wouldn't penetrate Harry's bone-chilled skin.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, then leant his head back on the couch and closed his eyes for a moment, but bolted upright a moment later, as images flashed before his eyes, of a boy sitting crossed-legged on a thick carpet of dead leaves and twigs, the moonlight filtering through the swaying branches of the tall trees, illuminating his face in an eerie glow. He sat before a fire, chanting some sort of spell, it seemed. Although Harry couldn't understand the words, as they were in Latin, they sent a chill down his spine. Harry could smell the blood on the ground and smeared on the young man's face. There were feathers scattered on the ground, and Harry felt a thrill of fear as his stomach roiled. It was some sort of sacrificial ritual, he realised. The stench of blood and...death assaulted his senses, and Harry felt the bile rise up. He barely made it to the loo, before he spilt the contents of his stomach. Harry ran the flannel under the cold water, and wiped his sweaty brow.

Harry wasn't quite sure how he made it back to the couch on his shaking limbs, but he grabbed the blanket that he had dragged from his bedroom, and wrapped it tightly around himself. It seemed as though he would never feel warmth again. He shook himself. He was being ridiculous. After all, he had faced many more horrors in his life. This was nothing more than a dream--a nightmare. Real life had presented him with much more horrifying images, after all. And yet...

It all had felt so real. It reminded him of the dream he'd had in fourth year. It was all so vividly real, and familiar. Okay, enough! he admonished himself firmly. This was crazy. It was probably all part of the Dark Magic, and he was giving into it. No--he wouldn't allow himself to lose control again. Harry lay down on the couch, and attempted to control his breathing using the techniques that Severus had taught him. He breathed in, breathed out. The only thing he accomplished however, was to make himself light-headed.

I could really go for a shot of firewhiskey, Harry thought suddenly. Harry eyed the bottle on the bar. He hesitated a moment, because Severus had once mentioned the possible interaction with the Dark Magic, but Harry pushed aside his reservations, thinking only a glass wouldn't hurt. Harry's hands were shaking so badly that he only spilt more than he'd managed to get in the glass. He finally gave up, and took a few swigs directly from the bottle. He instantly felt his quivering limbs warm up and he popped the cork back into the bottle and staggered back to the couch.

----

Severus blinked. A shock of black hair peeked out from under a blanket on the couch, and what looked like, upon closer inspection, a big toe.

What the hell? Severus pulled the blanket from his son's face, and his stomach lurched when he saw how pale Harry's face was. He brushed Harry's fringe aside and his eyes widened in shock, when he saw Harry's scar, angry and red.

He gently shook Harry's frail shoulder. "Harry--son, wake up," Severus said softly.

"Go away," Harry mumbled,pulling the covers back over his head.

"Harry," Severus tried again, but raising his voice slightly. "Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

Harry shook himself awake. He saw the fuzzy image of his father's face crinkled with concern. Harry grappled for his glasses on the coffee table with fumbling fingers.

As Severus handed them to him, his heart lurched at how pale and young Harry seemed. He felt helpless. Why did it always seem that his boy had to suffer, and all Severus could do was sit on the sidelines and do nothing?

Severus put his hand gently on Harry's shoulder. “Harry, are you alright, son?”

Harry looked around in confusion. It took only a moment for it all to come rushing back to him.

"Just a bad dream, that's all," Harry said in a rough voice. He really had no inclination to relive it all again.

"Harry--"

"Look, I really don't want to talk about it right now," Harry gruffly.

Severus nodded. "Very well. Do feel up to attending classes?"

Oh Merlin, Harry thought. He didn't want to sit here all day, thinking about how real the dream felt, the feel of evil that permeated through him, but on the other hand-- going to classes? He just didn't know how he'd function.

"Yeah, I'll just go have a shower." And maybe wash away the feeling of being tainted—of being Dark.

Severus felt that increasingly familiar feeling of worry settle in his gut. He wouldn't press the boy into discussing the dream before he was ready, but whatever the dream was about, had unsettled Harry enough to disturb his sleep, and was cause enough for concern. Harry certainly didn't need anymore pressures on him right now. He hoped that Harry would be cured soon, and they could put this unpleasant experience behind them. Severus had an ominous feeling, however, that it wouldn't be that simple.

"Would you prefer to eat breakfast down here?" Severus asked softly, as Harry came out of his room adjusting his tie. He looked incredibly pale and wore a haunted expression on his face.

Harry shook his head. No, he wanted to forget that dream, and he wanted to be surrounded by his friends and Ginny. He wanted to be normal for a change. But it didn't seem as though normal was in the cards for him, he thought bitterly. Harry had thought that once the Dark Magic was expunged from his soul, that perhaps he'd be allowed to just be a normal teenager, but Harry feared that as was the norm in his life, that once one crisis was dealt with, another would take its place.

"No, let's just get out of here please,” Harry said a little more forcefully than he'd meant to.

"Hold still for a moment," Severus said impatiently as he swatted Harry's fumbling fingers away from his tie.

Severus placed his hands firmly on Harry's shoulders and pulled him back slightly.

"That'll do. Honestly, you'd think after all these years, you'd manage to knot your tie properly.”

Harry had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but held back when he saw the slight quirk of Severus' lips. He wasn't quite in the mood for joking, but he hadn't the energy to deliver a biting rejoinder either.

"Yeah, well, my fingers aren't quite cooperative this morning.”

"Yes well, perhaps that is the culprit," Severus said glancing at the spilt contents of the firewhiskey on the bar.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I only had a few swigs. I just needed something to relax myself a little," Harry retorted. "I'm an adult and I don't see why I have to explain myself to you anyway."

Severus lurched forward and Harry took a step backwards, when he saw the dangerous glint in Severus' eyes. Severus reached out and grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes. Harry's eyes widened in fear, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"You will not speak to me that way," Severus said in a dangerous voice. "I will make allowances for your situation, but I'll not tolerate your disrespect. Is that clear?"

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He nodded. "Yes sir," he whispered.

Severus let go of Harry's robes, and tried to reign in his temper. He took a deep breath. One aspect of their relationship hadn't changed since they learnt of his paternity, and that was the fact that Harry still had the power to trigger his anger more quickly than anyone else could.

"I'm sorry," Harry croaked. "I-, I-, didn't mean to-"

Severus felt a sweep of guilt when he realised that Harry was actually afraid of him. After what he had suffered at the hands of his father, he should not have reacted so aggressively. He never wanted his son to be afraid of him.

"Perhaps I overreacted," Severus acknowledged stiffly. "I-apologise too," he said with a pained look on his face.

Harry looked up. He saw the regret and sincerity in his father's eyes. Harry's stomach churned. He just couldn't seem to prevent from provoking the man's volatile temper.

Severus felt incredibly guilty. He knew that Harry was blaming himself for his loss of control. Another symptom of the abuse his son had suffered at the hands of those horrible Muggles. The boy had always felt responsible for others’ anger towards him. Yes, Harry had been somewhat insolent, but not enough to deserve Severus' aggressive response. He was still young, and a little impulsive, but Harry was still a good-hearted and generous young man. The Dark Magic was perhaps making Harry a little bad-tempered and defiant, but Severus knew that his response had not been proportionate to Harry's impertinence.

Severus reached out and gently stroked Harry's scar, which was still slightly red. At the touch of Severus' calloused thumb brushing against his tender skin, Harry raised his eyes to meet Severus' own.

"Perhaps we can have tea later, and if you feel up to it, we can discuss this dream further," Severus said softly.

"Yeah, that'd be great." Harry felt the knot in his stomach relax slightly. Not that he was anxious to discuss his dream, but he did rather enjoy his little chats with his father. Not that he'd admit it to the man. Well, not in so many words.

Harry was quite irritated with himself. Why the hell was he letting such a ridiculous dream bother him? He'd lived worse nightmares. But for some reason the disturbing images wouldn't leave his mind. It wasn't even that bad a dream, really, but the sense of evil he'd felt, had been lingering. Severus had told him that preparations for the White Magic ritual should be complete in several days, and Harry was getting quite anxious for it all to be over. Hermione would be helping with the preparation of the potion, gathering ingredients and such. It took two days for it to brew. There were other artefacts necessary for the actual ritual, such as there had been for the Dark ritual. Harry was quite curious what those entailed. He wondered if everything would be a complete opposite of what they had used for the ceremony to bring Severus back.

--

It was a very long day for Harry, and he dragged himself from class to class. His friends kept sneaking worried glances at each other when they thought that he wouldn’t notice. He had snapped at Ginny a couple of times when she tried to gently inquire what was wrong with him. Luckily they all backed off, and left him alone. Possibly the dark circles under his eyes, and irritable disposition was a motivating factor for them to keep their distance, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on a confrontation with Draco, when Hermione and Ron dropped him off at Severus' classroom at the end of the day. Draco was serving one of his never-ending detentions, and looked up from scrubbing his fifteenth cauldron. He was never quite sure of Harry's moods these days, and he wasn't anxious to provoke the ticking time-bomb further. Not only was he not anxious to earn himself more detentions, and Severus' wrath, Harry had come too close to losing control and hexing him to oblivion, for comfort.

He held back the scathing comment that was on the tip of his tongue. Unfortunately, Harry felt no such compunction. It was obvious he was in a mood, and Draco prayed that Severus would come back soon. He had gone to retrieve some potions ingredients, and a few more dirty, sooty cauldrons for him to scrub. How considerate of the man, Draco thought bitterly. Since learning of his deception, Severus had set Draco all manner of thankless tasks such as scrubbing cauldrons, cleaning the toilets without magic, re-stocking his storage room with potions ingredients, and helping the House Elves in the kitchens. That was not a chore that the aristocratic Draco had appreciated. Severus was determined, however, to take advantage of Lucius' absence and bring his Godson's holier than thou attitude down a notch.

As Harry was already in a snit, he couldn't prevent himself from taunting the blond.

"Oh did poor little Dwaco break a fingernail?"

Draco bit his tongue to prevent himself from throwing the scrub brush in Potty's smug face. He dared not allow himself to be goaded into another fight. He was in enough trouble as it was. Mind you, this time he wouldn't let himself be disarmed again, but it was still not worth Severus' wrath by giving in to provocation.

Harry was merciless however.

He pointed to a spot on the cauldron. "Oh, I believe that you missed a spot there, ferret boy."

Draco clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. One...breathe...two...another breath, three..."

"Oh, and I do believe that you've got something on your nose...right there," Harry smirked as he rubbed his finger against the outside of the cauldron, and smeared soot on Draco's nose.

Draco really did think that he was exercising the patience of a saint, but he was very close to saying the hell with it, and dealing with the consequences later.

Harry could tell that Draco was ready to lose control, and it gave him enormous satisfaction. There was a little voice in the back of his head that was reminding him that he had promised Severus to exercise control, and he knew that he should be utilising the relaxation techniques that Severus had taught him, but his sleep-deprived mind wouldn't listen to reason.

"Is Dwaco getting angry?"

Draco's knuckles hurt from clenching the scrub brush so hard.

"Oh and by the way Draco, Ginny and Hermione told me what a lovely job you did scrubbing those toilets in the girl's loo."

A throat cleared behind Harry.

Draco wore a smug expression.

Oh Damn.

Harry whirled around to see Severus glaring at him--arms crossed.

Oh crap, how long had he been there?

Snape uncrossed his arms and with a swish of his wand, five dirty, sooty cauldrons appeared and floated to a table beside Harry. Severus flicked his wand again, and a scrub brush appeared beside the cauldron.

He wordlessly pointed to the desk.

Harry dared not look back at Draco, because he was sure that the git was probably gloating. He picked up the scrub brush and with a sigh of resignation, dipped it into the soapy bucket that also appeared beside him, and began scrubbing.

With a whirl of his robes, Severus sat down at his desk, and began the chore of supervising the two infuriating teenagers. He was getting more than a little impatient to finish brewing the potion and get cracking on curing his son, because the boy was testing his patience and endurance. He just wanted desperately to lie back, relax, and concentrate on his relationship with his son. It was extremely difficult for them to forge a bond, when Harry's behaviour was so erratic. Severus was really looking forward to spending quiet time with his son and finally enjoying the freedom that they had fought so hard to attain. Perhaps once this was all behind them, they could just be father and son.

While Severus' attention was caught up in grading papers, both boys kept sneaking glances at each other. Harry gritted his teeth. He could not believe that his father gave him detention with Malfoy. Okay, so maybe he did deserve it but that didn't make the chore any more enjoyable, nor the company.

--

"Hey, where's Harry?" Ginny asked Hermione and Ron, when she entered the Common Room. "I went to Snape's quarters to see if Harry wanted to walk to the Great Hall for dinner with me, and no one was there."

Hermione and Ron were lazing on the couch. Well, Ron was lying on the couch, with his head on Hermione's lap, while she was busy with a quill and parchment, jotting down notes from the tome on White Magic.

Hermione pulled her attention away from her notes, and worried her lip. "I don't know. We dropped him off at Snape's classroom a couple of hours ago." She furrowed her brow. "Do you think that he's still there?"

"Well, I've looked everywhere else, and I haven't seen either Snape or Harry. I mean Harry's not supposed to be on his own, so I imagine that they're together."

Hermione jumped up. Ron looked up grumpily as his head plopped down on the couch. He wasn't pleased to lose his pillow.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "C'mon, Ron. Time for dinner."

At the mention of dinner, Ron jumped up quickly from the couch.

"We'll stop by the Potions classroom and see if Harry is there," Hermione said to Ginny.

Ginny nodded. She was a little worried about Harry. He had really seemed anxious and not himself. As usual, Harry was not forthcoming about what was bothering him.

An unlikely sight greeted the Gryffindors when they reached the door to the Potions Classroom. Severus had just exited, flagged by a glaring Draco on one side and scowling Harry on the either. It took a Herculean effort for the three of them not to laugh, because both Draco and Harry were covered from head to toe in soot and grime.

A Don't even ask and a look that promised dire consequences kept Harry's friends from pressing him further for an explanation as to why Harry and Draco looked like they'd been rolling around in ashes.

Severus didn't even attempt to hide his smirk. Serve the two of them right, he thought. He had better things to do than to referee two mule-headed teenagers. If his son couldn't learn to control his temper then he would suffer the consequences. Honestly, the war was over; it was time that these two former enemies learnt, if not to be best buddies, at least to be civil with each other, and comport themselves in an appropriate manner.

Severus pinched the bridged of his nose. "Draco, go wash up for dinner," he said wearily.

"Yes sir," Draco mumbled, but before he could make his escape, Severus added, "You will report to my office at the same time tomorrow for details on your next detention."

Draco nodded, and sighed inwardly. One more week, and he'd be free from detention. A part of him had the urge to take revenge on Potter for simply existing, and the other part of him didn't want to disappoint Severus again. Frankly, right now, he hurt all over and Potter was just not worth the trouble. He hurried off as quickly as his tired legs would take him. He really had no desire to prolong contact with Potter and his little friends.

Severus pinned Harry with a stern glare. "And you-- come and wash up, and we will have a little chat about your behaviour after dinner."

Harry's face heat up in embarrassment, and he avoided his friends curious looks, especially Ginny’s.

"I'll see you guys at dinner," Harry said sheepishly. And he hurried to catch up with his father, who had stalked off in a sweep of black robes billowing behind him.

A squeaky clean Harry tried to explain to his friends what had occurred with Malfoy, while trying to gloss over his own less than stellar behaviour.

Hermione looked at him disapprovingly, but Ron patted him on the back, when Harry recounted what he'd done.

"Good job mate," Ron nodded in approval. That git deserves everything he gets."

"Well Malfoy's not my favourite person either Harry, but he's not worth getting yourself into trouble over," Hermione admonished.

Ignoring Hermione's disapproving look, Harry chuckled. "Yeah, it was worth the detention just to pay the ferret back."

"Hmm, who cares about that git," said Ginny. She ruffled her hand through Harry's freshly washed hair. "You clean up well." She winked. "And smell good too."

Hermione and Ron rolled their eyes. They'd heard enough complaining from Harry and Ginny about their displays of affection, and how it was nauseating to watch.

"Okay you two, go get a room," Ron grumbled.

"Jealous, are we mate?" Harry snickered.

Well, the mood had definitely lightened up, Harry thought happily. That was until dinner had ended, and he saw his father advancing towards their table and he remembered the promised chat they were supposed to have.

Harry groaned. "I gotta go get wrung out, guys. I'll see you later."

"Oh Harry," Hermione stopped him as he rose from the seat. "Slughorn told me that he and Snape had begun the potion, and asked if I wanted to help later tonight."

Harry brightened up. "Oh and how long does the potion take to brew?"

"Well, forty-eight hours," Hermione responded. "But that's only timed after all the ingredients are added. It's a timed process. Your father and Slughorn have started the base of the potion, and after six hours the moonstone is added, and after twelve hours, the feather of a dove, and hair of unicorn. After that phase is completed it is brewed for forty-eight hours in a sterilized cauldron and--"

The swishing of robes behind her, halted further explanation. She turned around and Snape was staring his aquiline nose down at them.

"Potter," Severus drawled. "I do believe we have some things to discuss."

Harry squirmed in his seat. He was not in the mood to listen to a bloody lecture, but he knew he was going to get it from the man anyway.

He turned his attention to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I understand that Horace has mentioned to you that if you'd like to participate in the preparation of the Potions, you are to come to the lab at eight p.m."

"Yes sir, I'll be there," she said excitedly.

Severus nodded, and crooked a finger at Harry. "This is getting to be a habit, Potter.

----

Blah, blah, blah, blah, and the man just droned on and on. Harry tuned out halfway in-between, You must exercise better control over your temper...and...we are all on the same side now, to- You and Draco must learn to put your past differences aside. As if, Harry thought acidly. The day that he would truly forget everything that Draco Malfoy had done to him, and become his best buddy, would be the day that Severus decided to throw every item of black clothing in the trash, and wash his hair.

Harry was very proud of himself though. He did manage to stay out of trouble for the next couple of days, reminding himself that soon he would be free of the Dark Magic. He avoided Draco like the plague, gave his best effort in all the training exercises that Severus insisted upon, and kept his temper at bay. All in all, Harry thought that he'd been a good little boy, and thought he had made even Severus proud of him. Actually, although it took an enormous effort to refrain from giving into his desire to throttle a certain blond Slytherin, it was well worth it to have his father's approval.

Thankfully, Harry hadn't had any more dreams to disturb his sleep. Of course that could have been because after he had spoken at length with Severus about the details of the dream, and Severus had reassured him that it was most likely a manifestation of the Dark Magic that was controlling his mind, Severus had given him some Dreamless Sleep Potion, after they had done some more meditative exercises. Harry had slept peacefully and chalked up the whole experience to a bad dream and nothing more.

Now, as he and Severus made their way to the Room of Requirement, where they would be performing the White Magic ritual, Harry had butterflies in his stomach.

Harry gasped when he opened the door.

There was a large crystal centered in the middle of the room, circled by ten white candles. The crystal captured the light of the white candles, creating a kalaidesope of colours dancing off the walls. There was what looked like an altar at the front of the room.

Harry stood in awe. The ritual had not even begun and already Harry could feel the peace washing over him.

Severus took his hand. “Come Harry. Let us begin.”

Severus nodded to Horace, who was wearing long, flowing white robes made of silk. He handed one to Harry, and one to Severus, who looked reluctant to put it on.

Harry smirked at him. “C'mon Severus, there are more colours than black in the world you know.”

Severus glared at him, but complied and put the white robes on. Harry did likewise and looked at Horace questioningly.

Horace went to the alter, and returned with a ruby encrusted chalice filled with a steaming lemony-coloured liquid.

Harry wrinkled his nose. “What is this?”

“This is the potion that prepares you for the ritual,” Severus explained. “Its ingredients will prepare and clear out the impurities that inhabit your body. The toxins that are slowly poisoning you will be forced out of your pores—much like perspiring.”

Harry made a face, but pinched his nose, and downed the potion as quickly as he could, gagging as the horrid- tasting potion slid down his throat. It was all he could do not to sick up. After a few moments, however, his stomach settled and Horace motioned him towards the circle of white candles.

Severus and Horace had explained earlier, a bit of how the ritual worked. First of all, the positive energy of the crystals, would combine with the purity of the white candles, creating a powerful force that would draw out evil influences. Then, a liquid that consisted of Essential oil of Myrrh, Essential Oil of Frankincense and Sea Salt, would be sprinkled over Harry, while Severus and Horace chanted the Latin spell that had been created specially for the purposes of expunging the Dark Magic from Harry's soul. The whole ritual is one designed to cleanse the body, mind and spirit of residual negativity after being involved in magical battles. Much like an exorcism.

As Harry sat in the middle of the circle, he felt slightly light headed, and his stomach churned with anxiety. He was quite anxious for it all to be over, but he was also concerned that the ritual might not work, and if it did, would he feel different immediately?

Harry closed his eyes for a moment,and tried to control his ragged breathing. It would work; it had to work, he thought desperately. He just couldn't live this way any longer. Harry eyes fluttered open as he felt a sprinkling of what felt like a drop of oily liquid roll down his face.

“Purgo Anima,” Severus and Horace chanted in unison. “Defaeco Anima, Purgo Anima,” annointing Harry with the oil as they did so.

Harry saw a fine mist rise up, much as when Severus' soul rose from the Horcurx, and swirled around Harry.

Suddenly, the voices seemed to be getting further away, and the room started to swirl around. Then everything went black.

When Harry opened his heavy eyes again, he saw Severus and Horace, staring down at him, with their jaws dropped, and their expressions, frozen in shock

Harry's glasses had slid down his nose when he fell, and his first instinct was to shove them back up, but then he realised that his vision was crystal clear without them. As a matter of fact, he could plainly see his long thin, elegant fingers—wait! What? No! He didn't have long thin elegant fingers; he had short stubby fingers.

Harry once again looked up at his father and Slughorn, who remained frozen in their spots, like statues.

Harry felt the panic rise up as he fully registered the looks of shock on the older men's faces.

“Severus, Professor? What's wrong? Did the ritual not work?” At their continued silence, Harry lost control of what little composure remained.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on!”

Severus reached out a hand to his son, his eyes never leaving Harry's face for a moment.

“Come Harry, let us go to our quarters,” Severus said gently, but firmly. “I think perhaps there are some things that will need explaining.”

“What things?” Harry asked warily.

Severus put his hand over Harry's as he once again automatically tried to push his glasses back up over the bridge of his nose.

“I don't believe you'll be needing those anymore... son,” Severus said softly. He removed the glasses from Harry's nose and put them in his robes pocket.

Harry gawked at his father.

“Wha-wha-t do you mean? Why wouldn't I need them? Will someone please ex-”

“I will explain everything once we are in our quarters Harry,” Severus insisted, as he took Harry firmly by the arm and led him out the door.

Harry looked back and saw Horace staring after them, scratching his head, with a shell-shocked expression on his face.

Harry tried several times to get an explanation as to Severus and Slughorn's odd behaviour, but Severus remained firm, insisting that he would explain everything once they were in the privacy of their quarters.

Harry had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to like the explanation. As a matter of fact, the closer they got to their quarters, the more Harry felt as though he were on his way to the gallows. His feelings of apprehension didn't lesson when they entered their quarters and Severus led Harry to the couch and told him to sit down.

When Severus went over to the bottle of Firewhiskey and poured two heaping glasses and handed one to Harry, after downing his quickly, Harry knew with certainty that whatever had taken place during that ritual had consequences that Harry was not going to like.

Harry stared at the glass of Firewhiskey in his hand and looked at his father in confusion. He is actually encouraging me to drink alcohol? Severus had an aversion to Harry drinking alcohol. Severus had an aversion to alcohol period. Severus had explained the reason that he had come down so hard on Harry for drinking to excess, was because his own father had been an abusive alcoholic. Severus himself, rarely indulged in drinking, and if so, limited his consumption to one glass. He was quite adamant that his son would not follow in his grandfather's footsteps, and Harry had been forced to be on the receiving end of many a lecture on the pitfalls of alcohol abuse. He warned Harry that alcohol could become a crutch and what started out as one drink could quickly become an addiction that could ruin your life.

That is how Harry knew that whatever Severus was about to tell him had to be shocking enough that he felt it justified breaking his rule about drinking.

Harry relaxed a little as the Firewhiskey took the edge off the rising panic that was threatening to overwhelm him

“Just a moment,” Severus directed as he went to the other room.

Severus returned several moments later, with of all things, a mirror in his hand.

Harry's brow crinkled in confusion. A mirror? Okay, so thinking about it later, he had been a little slow on the uptake, but after the intense emotions that whirled through his mind with the ritual, and then the dulling effects of the alcohol, Harry thought that he could have been forgiven for being slow to realise just what had taken place after the ritual.

Harry's heart really began to race when Severus knelt down on one knee, and looked deeply into Harry's eyes.

“Harry, this is going to be rather a shock for you, but during the course of the ritual, your-” Severus hesitated a moment. He wanted to prepare Harry for the shock that he knew the boy would experience at seeing his image in the mirror, but honestly, he didn't believe that any amount of preparation was going to prepare the boy for this.

“What?” Harry prodded.

“The ritual that Slughorn and I performed, as we've already explained was one of purification and cleansing of the soul. Basically, such a ritual will wash away any impurities and evil, or negative energy that has tainted the soul, that was always meant to be pure. In other words, the intention of the ritual was to return your soul to the state it was in at the moment of your birth. Although the soul is part of who you are, the shell, your body if you will, is also affected when the soul is cleansed. Of course the spell has not brought you to the size you were when you were born, but one of it's effects is to wash away any glamour or any spells that marred your original appearance.”

Realisation washed through Harry, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready to fully accept or understand the ramifications of what Severus was implying.

Severus slowly lifted the mirror for Harry to look at himself.

Harry felt like he was back in the Pensieve. It was as though a young Severus Snape stared back at him.

Fine silky black hair, with slight auburn highlights, framed the fined-boned, pale cheeks. Dark green eyes stood out on his now alabaster complexion. Harry was relieved that his eyes were still green like his mom's, although perhaps they were slightly darker than hers; but at least they weren't coal black like his father's. Not that he had anything against the colour of Severus' eyes, but he'd always felt a connection with his mum, because they had the same eye colour. Harry stared a little longer at his nose than elsewhere. Thank the gods that he hadn't inherited his father's nose. Actually it hadn't changed all the much, and he thought that it actually resembled his mom's.

Harry's voice hitched in his throat. “I look like you,” he said softly, as he lowered the mirror to look at Severus.

“Yes, you do," Severus said softly.

He wasn't quite sure if his son thought that that was a terrible thing or not. When he'd first seen Harry writhing and rolling around on the floor after he'd passed out, he began to suspect what was taking place. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his son, after the transformation had taken place. It was one thing to know that Harry Potter was his son, but looking at the boy who so resembled his childhood enemy, and to put the image with the reality, had taken a little time.

Now, as he stared at his son--looking at this boy, and seeing himself and Lily both reflected in his young son's face, it suddenly hit him with full-force that Harry really was his son. Lily's son. But the boy was more handsome then he had ever been. Traces of Lily's features softened the hard lines of Severus' own contributions to his looks, and there were soft auburn highlights in Harry's hair, that you only noticed when the light reflected on his silky locks, like now... The green eyes and soft sprinkling of freckles around the nose, reminded him of Lily. Oh Merlin. His heart wrenched; this boy really was his son. His and Lily's.

Harry couldn't stop staring at his reflection; examining everything from his long black eyelashes, to the shape of his mouth. He studied his long elegant fingers, and thought they resembled Severus' own larger ones. He took his shoes off and examined his feet, that were now also longer and narrower, but unfortunately his legs weren't any longer.

He looked up at Severus in dismay. "Hey, how come I'm not taller?" he whined. Dammit. If his whole appearance had to change, how come he couldn't have at least benefited from it?

"James wasn't much shorter than I am, Harry. I believe that there are factors other than genetics at work here," Severus growled.

Severus hesitated. He knew that Harry disliked talking about his life with the Dursleys, and was loathe to bring it up at such an important moment between the two of them. Many revelations had come to light about Harry's earlier home life, during Occlumency training, including just how severe Harry's treatment at the hands of his relatives was. Severus had already known since fifth year, a little of the neglect and abuse that he'd suffered, but it was only recently that Harry had opened up and admitted just how severe it had really been.

"We've already discussed how the effects of years of starvation and malnutrition have had on your body Harry," Severus said sadly. "I'm afraid that removing the glamour couldn't reverse the effects the malnutrition had on stunting your growth. The ritual only removed whatever Magical or Dark spells that were performed on your body. Unfortunately, it cannot reverse the effects of Muggle abuse suffered at the hands of your so-called family," Severus said in disgust.

Severus wished he knew what had become of the Dursleys after they'd been forced to relocate for their own protection. Not that they deserved any protection, he thought bitterly. Perhaps it was better that he couldn't exact revenge on the son of a bitch, because Severus couldn't honestly say that he wouldn't thrash the man within an inch of his life, and he wasn't even sure if he could control himself enough to guarantee that the bastard would still be breathing by the time he was finished with him. I'd probably end up in Azkaban for murdering a Muggle, Severus thought caustically. Of course it would be worth it. No, Harry needed him. No matter how grown up the kid thought he was.

Harry studied Severus' features, and then his own yet again. This would take some getting used to he realised. He wondered how his friends would react to his new appearance. Hell, how would Ginny react? He didn't think that he was bad looking like this, but would Ginny see him differently, inside as well as out. One thing was certain. there was no denying that he was the son of Severus Snape anymore. He was the spitting image of him. Of course, he had many features of his mom as well. Severus wouldn't really be a bad looking guy if he took more care of his appearance Harry thought with sudden realisation. Of course he wasn't brave enough to tell his father that he should wash his hair more often, or use whitening toothpaste. Of course Severus had been an awkward teenager but Harry noticed that it was only really after his Mum had let him go that he'd begun to be careless about his appearance. Yes, Severus had explained, once, and only once, that his hair was greasy due to the constant fumes from the Potions that he'd been exposed to. After that initial line of questioning, he'd made it clear to Harry that the subject was closed and to bring it up again was at great personal risk to himself. Wisely, Harry kept quiet on the subject after that.

Harry was certainly glad that Severus had given him the Firewhiskey, because it had been a very emotional day, and it looked like things were only going to become more complicated. Harry had had plans on moving back to Gryffindor immediately after the ceremony, but now he wasn't sure if he was quite ready. He'd need time to adjust to the changes, and he wasn't sure how his friends were going to react. There was also the matter of his relationship with Severus. Harry knew that at his age, most teenagers wanted to be away from their parents and strike out on their own, but his situation was quite different from that of his friends and classmates, who had grown up knowing their parents, and being part of a family. Harry had never had that luxury, and now that he and Severus had found each other and were becoming closer, he was determined not to let anything come between them again.

Harry decided that perhaps a slow transition would be best. Perhaps staying in the Tower a few times a week to begin with, and after that he could stay with his father on weekends. But suddenly Harry felt insecure. Maybe Severus was anxious to have his privacy back and would want him to move out. Harry shook his head. What the hell was he thinking about this right now for? He wasn't himself anymore. He wasn't Harry Potter anymore. He felt like he never was. There was nothing left of James Potter in his appearance. The only link he had to James Potter was his name. He felt like his whole world had toppled upside down. Harry had thought that he'd come to terms with all the changes in his life, and he thought that because he was growing to care for Severus, that he'd accepted that his whole life had been a lie before--but now, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Severus could see the conflicting emotions flit over Harry's face. He sat down on the chair across from Harry and moved it a little closer. He took Harry's hands in his own.

"I know you must be confused right now, and that this is all rather a lot to take in. Perhaps it's best if you take a little time to adjust to these changes before making any decisions," Severus suggested hesitantly.

He had an inkling that Harry had been anxious to return to the Tower immediately after the ritual had been performed, but one look at Harry's face, obviously riddled with anxiety, he could sense that Harry was having doubts about leaving the security of their quarters. At least Severus hoped that Harry had come to feel secure living here with him. Severus could admit to himself that he was not the easiest person to live with. He knew that he was quick-tempered and had a rather short fuse, and Harry had been on the receiving end of his wrath, on more than one occasion. He was definitely not a man one would call patient or understanding. He thought that he'd tempered his volatile nature somewhat for his son's sake, but he was not, never had been, and never would be what one would call a nice person. He was not one to make excuses for his behaviour, and as far as Severus was concerned, the only person whose opinion mattered to him, was his son's. Of course, he had cared to a certain extent, what Albus had thought of him. Yes, the man had made mistakes, but who could claim that they hadn't? All in all, Severus was proud of the effort he'd made with Harry, and although there were some areas that perhaps he needed to work on, such as feeling comfortable showing affection towards his son, for instance, he felt that Harry at least understood how much Severus had grown to care for him.

"I was thinking," Harry began slowly, "that if you didn't mind that I'd wait a bit before I moved back up to the Tower permanently."

Severus' eyes widened in surprise. "I thought that it went without saying Po-" Severus looked at the boy who looked so much like a younger version of himself, and realised that he would never again think of the boy as a Potter. He was truly a Snape now. A Potter in name only. Severus couldn't help but enjoy a moment of gleeful revenge at the thought that all traces of Potter's looks, were gone from his son's appearance. Damn the man for claiming my son as his own. Severus attempted to stifle the flash of anger he'd felt towards the dead man. After all, the man had died to save his son. He could perhaps be forgiven for his stealing Severus' son, if it had meant that Harry had been safe. He owed Potter that much.

Harry flinched.

Severus felt a pang of guilt. Obviously the boy misread the momentary display of anger on Severus' face for rejection.

"Harry, this is your home too. I thought that you understood that," Severus said softly. "You're my son, and you'll always be welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like. As a matter of fact, I hope that after you move back up to the Tower permanently, yo-"

Severus wanted very much to express to Harry, how much he would miss him when he moved out, and that he hoped that Harry would perhaps come and stay overnight or on weekends, and how much his life had changed for the better since Harry had become a part of it. But, Severus couldn't find the words. He wasn't a man who was used to expressing his feelings. Even to his son.

But he didn't need to. Despite all the effort that Severus had made to keep up his wall to block out other's intrusion, the bond that had forged between Harry and himself, was stronger than the reserved man had ever thought possible. Only Lily had ever been able to read him so well. Only Lily had ever been able to understand what he hadn't been able to put into words.

The corners of Harry's mouth lifted in a small smile. His father was really quite predictable, he thought. When things got a little too mushy for his liking, he always pulled back and the wall went back up. But Harry knew what Severus had been trying to say. The man would miss him when he was gone. That gave Harry the courage to voice what had been on his mind.

"I was wondering if it would be okay-uh- if maybe I could maybe, you know...uh, stay here sometimes after I move up to the Tower for good?" Harry finally managed to spit out.

While it was true that Harry's powers of Occlumency had drastically improved, and Severus was beginning to think that perhaps his son had inherited some of his skill, Severus looked suspiciously at his son, wondering if the boy was also beginning to inherit his skill of Leglimency as well. He brushed aside that ridiculous notion. That took years of training. No, Harry was just a very intuitive young man, and the two of them were becoming closer and as much as Severus hated to admit it, living with someone day and day out made it easier for that person to notice patterns of behaviour.

"Harry, would you stop this nonsense immediately. I've already told you that you are welcome here any time and that this is your home. End of discussion," he said gruffly. Better to end this conversation before it became even sappier. He could only deal with so much bonding at a time.

"So, what about the ritual? Do you think that it was--successful?" Harry asked hesitatingly. He'd been so overwhelmed by his new appearance that he'd forgotten about the reason they'd performed the ritual to begin with.

Severus took a deep breath. "I would say so. If the ritual had not been successful, your appearance would not have changed as it has."

Severus leaned forward and gently brushed Harry's fringe to the side. His forehead was no longer marred by the angry red lightning-bolt scar that had marked him as the Dark Lord's equal. After the Dark Lord had been vanquished, the scar had receded but hadn't disappeared completely. There was still a certain blemish that had been left on Harry's own soul even after the last Horcrux had been destroyed. Or rather, the Dark Lord's soul that had inhabited his son's body. Now though, it appeared that every last trace of Dark Magic had been erased.

"Of course, time will tell, but since your scar has completely disappeared, and the glamour that your mother had placed on you has been stripped away, I would say that the ritual was indeed successful."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He sincerely hoped that this ordeal was behind him. There was still the dream though. He'd never really had a moment to discuss the disturbing images that still haunted him, with Severus. They had both been tuckered out after his detention with Malfoy, Harry thought amusedly. Now that he thought back on it, he realised how immature he'd been, but it had certainly been fun to rile up Malfoy. The prat certainly deserved some payback for all the grief he'd given Harry over the years, but perhaps his actions had been a trifle bit childish, he admitted. But damn... it had been fun!

Harry bit his lip. "Uh, I think that my friends are probably anxious to know if the Ritual has been successful. But I'm not sure how they're going to react to me looking like-" Harry stopped abruptly.

Severus smirked. "Like me, you mean."

Harry flushed. "Well, I mean, uh-"

Severus laughed at Harry's discomfort. He put his arms around Harry's shoulders. "Don't worry Harry. Your mother's good looks have certainly transferred to you. It could be worse." He teased. He pointed to his nose. "You could have been blessed with the trademark Snape nose."

Harry was smart enough not to share with his father, his own relief at just that thought.

Severus raised his eyebrow at his son. He knew damned well what Harry had been thinking.

Severus quirked his lips. "Although, I do believe that your nose looks slightly larger than before." He laughed when Harry's hand flew up to clutch at his nose, and scowled at Severus when he realised that Severus had only been teasing him.

"Now, I think that perhaps I would like to freshen up a bit, and I believe that your friends are anxiously awaiting news from you."

Harry's stomach churned in anxiety. Doubts once again washed over him.

Severus squeezed his son's shoulders. "C'mon my young Gryffindor. What's the worst that can happen?"

"They're your friends Harry. Once they get over the initial shock, they won't care what you look like." Severus put his hand on his chest. "It's what inside you that's important."

Harry nodded at his father, but his emotions swirled with uncertainty.

----

After Harry had left their quarters, Severus mulled over what he'd told Harry. He wasn't quite certain that his advice had merit. He wasn't a fool. He knew what the majority of the student population said behind his back, and it had never bothered him before. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed, even encouraged his reputation of being nasty and unapproachable, but would Harry's friends and classmates, judge him simply because he so resembled their most-hated Professor?

No. As much as Severus was loathe to admit it, Harry's friends were loyal-- sometimes nauseatingly so, he thought caustically. They wouldn't judge Harry simply by his appearance. They had been through too much together to abandon their friends just because he no longer looked like the heroic James Potter. He scowled at the thought. James Perfect Potter. No matter what he accomplished in his life, he could never compete with the legend of the man. He knew that he was being petty, but again jealousy reared it's ugly head up to cloud Severus' view of his relationship with Harry. He just couldn't get over his feelings of inadequacy where Harry was concerned. Could you ever really compete with a dead man's legacy?

Now, Harry's friends had been quite supportive of their relationship; Granger and Weasley had even participated in the ritual to bring him back from the Veil. Knowing that Harry was Severus' son was one thing, but seeing their friend look the spitting image of him, Severus wasn't as confident in their reaction as he'd made Harry believe.

Severus decided that a shower was in order. He wanted nothing more than to wash away the weariness. It had been a long, emotionally draining day, and he was certain that his son would be needing his support and guidance, in one capacity or another.

Severus removed his heavy robes, and placed them, as usual, meticulously on the coat rack by the front door, and made his way to the loo.

As his long fingers fumbled with the many buttons on his shirt, he couldn't help allowing himself a small smile, when he pictured Harry-no-his son, with his startlingly green eyes, so much like Lily's, but staring at him from a face so much like a younger version of himself. If he had done nothing else right with his life, he at least could be proud of having sired this incredibily talented, handsome young man. He couldn't help but feel that he didn't deserve such a precious gift from Lily, after everything he'd put her through, but he was grateful nonetheless. A fierce protectiveness took hold of Severus when he thought of Harry. He hadn't know what he'd been missing before, but now that he had a taste of fatherhood, despite it's ups and downs, he would not trade being a father, for all the riches in the world. The intensity of his feelings for Harry scared him at times; he never thought that he would ever have such deep feelings for anyone, after Lily. Of course loving a woman, was a different experience from being a father, but the principle was the same--you opened yourself up and allowed yourself to be vulnerable when you allowed yourself to care, no matter what type of love it was.

Severus was fighting impatiently with the last stubborn button. He was anxious to have a shower, and was quite looking forward to shocking his son, by washing his hair. Perhaps it would be worth giving into vanity, just to stir up some gossip in the Great Hall tonight at Dinner. Imagine if the Greasy Git of the Dungeons wasn't greasy any longer. Some focus would possibly be taken off his son's own new appearance. Or perhaps it would solidify the relationship in the minds of others, who had never quite accepted their relationship. Either way, he was quite looking forward to Minerva and his other colleagues' reactions to his freshly washed hair.

Finally, Severus succumbed to frustration and ripped off the last button, tearing the fine fabric of his crisp, cotton shirt. He peeled off his shirt from his sweat-bathed skin, and sighed in relief when the cool air soothed his hot skin. He went to unbuckle the belt on his trousers, when he happened to look up in the mirror.

His eyes widened in shock. He brushed a calloused finger over the soft, smooth skin on his upper arm...where his Dark Mark had been burnt into it. The skin was now perfectly clear.

Severus examined every inch of his body, where he once had been riddled with numerous curse scars; the legacy of his days as a Death Eater. His skin was now virtually unmarred. There were a few scars left, that he'd earned the Muggle way, but any scar that had been caused by Magic, Dark or otherwise, had disappeared.

If Severus had been an emotional man, he would have given way to tears of joy. He hadn't thought of the possibility that while saving Harry's soul, he could save his own. He hadn't given a moment's thought that perhaps the White Magic that had cleansed the impurities from his son's body and soul, would also wash away his own sins. Severus had been so preoccupied with Harry's problems, that he hadn't noticed how he himself had been feeling differently since the Ritual. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but now, in retrospect, he'd felt a certain calm and peacefulness wash over him as the spell had taken hold. This great burden of guilt that he had borne since taking the Dark Mark, was no longer a weight on his shoulders. Severus felt as though he'd been forgiven for every horrific act that he'd performed in his life and every sin that he'd committed against his fellow man.

----

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart raced and his stomach roiled with each step closer he took to the Tower.

They didn't notice him at first. Hermione, of course, was finishing up her homework, and Ginny and Ron were playing chess. Ron was actually growing red in the face because he hadn't anticipated that Ginny could have improved so drastically that she could actually give him a run for his money now. He was used to playing against Harry, who was really no competition at all, and was used to wiping the floor with all of them.

"You're cheating," he accused Ginny.

Ginny's face flushed a deep red that contrasted horribly with her hair colour. "Honestly Ron, you prat. How the hell could I possibly cheat? You're sitting right there, and you've been watching me the whole time."

Ron had the grace to look ashamed. "I'm so-"

"No forget it," she yelled as she jumped up angrily knocking the protesting chess pieces on the floor. "You're just a poor sport, that's a-"

Ginny stopped in mid-sentence, when she spotted Harry.

She peered at him suspiciously. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Ginny put her hands on her hips and demanded again, "Well? Who are you? And how the hell did you get in here?"

Harry smiled, thinking how cute she looked with her face flushed a very appealing shade of pink, and her warm brown eyes flashing in anger. That was definitely the wrong thing to do.

"Think this is funny, do you?"

Hermione peered at him suspiciously through her long lashes.

"Calm down Ginny, and let him explain." She looked apologetically at Harry. "Please excuse my friend." To which Ginny huffed, and glared at Hermione."It's just that it's rather uncommon for a perfect stranger to waltz into Gryffindor Tower, and it requires a password."

Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Speaking of which, how did you get the password?" He looked accusingly at Neville, who had just walked in the door.

"I thought that you'd grown out of leaving the password around for anyone to find," Ron said.

"I didn't," Neville denied vehemently.

"Oh, it's not his fault," Harry said breezily.

"No?" Ginny said through gritted teeth. "Then explain just how you got in here." She was definitely not in a patient mood after dealing with her irritatingly annoying berk of a brother.

Harry ignored her questions and smiled."You know you're every bit as cute as Draco said you were."

"Draco? What the hell does that arse have to do with this?" Ron sputtered. "Are you a Slytherin?"

Harry smirked when Ginny's eyes widened in shock, as he went over, and gently lifted her chin up, and brushed his lips against hers.

Slap.

Well, he certainly should have expected that, shouldn't he have?

Harry rubbed his tingling cheek. "Now, is that anyway to welcome a guest?" he asked with a wounded expression.

Harry backed away as Ron took a step towards him, looking like he'd like to greet this stranger in the same manner as his sister had.

Hermione tugged at Ron's arm. "Ron, will you calm down. Let's give the poor soul a chance to explain."

Harry knew that he was pushing his luck, but he couldn't stop himself.

He began looking around and pretending to be struck in awe at the comfortable surroundings. "Wow, they weren't exaggerating. You've really got a good setup here."

Harry held back a chuckle at their horrified expressions, when he sunk back in the comfortable sofa, laid his head back and plonked his feet lazily on the coffee table.

Harry looked over at Ron. "You know mate, I could really go for a cold butterbeer."

This is the most fun I've had in a long time, Harry thought amusedly as he saw Ron's face grow an increasingly darker shade of purple.

Harry patted his wand pocket, just in case his friend, who was frothing at the bit to escape Hermione's grasp of steel, managed to free himself.

"Oh, and Ginny, is that your name?" Harry asked innocently. "Why don't you come sit your cute little self down here beside me? I know you're going with that Harry Potter chap, but I think that maybe it's time you had a real man. I mean, c'mon, the guy's not even that good-looking." He smoothed his hair back arrogantly. "He's not half as good looking as I am," he said cockily.

Ginny growled. "Why you arrogant, conceited little prat."

Hermione suddenly pinned Harry with a piercing look. "You know you look a lot like-" She hesitated.

Uh oh.

She let go of Ron and Ginny's arms, and began to examine him closely, while Ginny and Ron looked on in confusion.

"But you have the exact same shade of eyes that-" Her brow crinkled in confusion. "But-"

Now Ginny was staring at him too. Ron still looked confused.

"Harry?" Hermione asked hesitatingly.

Harry's stomach roiled.

"Yes," he whispered.

Harry stood on shaky limbs. Reality washed over him, making him more insecure than ever.

Ginny shook her head. "But how? I mean- uh, when? I don't understand."

Ron's freckles stood out starkly on his ashen complexion. "Wow mate, you look just like-- like Snape."

Hermione's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "It was the ritual, wasn't it? The White Magic cleansed away all the impurities--any trace of magical energy that had been attached to your soul."

Harry felt like a science experiment, with the way they were all staring at him.

He wanted desperately to reach out and hold Ginny. He wanted nothing more than to feel as though the ground hadn't shifted from underneath him. He'd held back on his feelings of horror and confusion on having the face that he'd seen in the mirror for the past seventeen years, been morphed into a complete stranger. He hadn't realised until now, how much of his whole identity had been wrapped up in being James Potter's son. He'd looked like the man, he had thought that he'd inherited the man's Quidditch skills. Many had said how brave he was, just like his Dad, James.

Now, he felt as though he had to get to know himself all over again. Who was he now? He wasn't ready to let go of James. He still felt as though the man were a part of who he was, even if they didn't carry the same blood. He owed the man his life. What was most difficult was the fact, that it wasn't something he could talk to Severus about. He felt like he was being pulled apart like a rag doll. He didn't want to dishonour the memory of the man who had laid down his life for him, who had loved his mother dearly, but he didn't want to hurt the man he had grown to care for deeply either. He felt disloyal to both of them.

Harry hadn't wanted to say to Severus that he had a moment of sheer panic when he'd held up the mirror and a younger version of Severus Snape stared back. Not to say, however, that it wasn't interesting to see his true appearance. There had been brief moments since learning that Severus was his biological father, that he'd had a burning curiosity to see what he'd look like if the glamour were removed, but worry that he might have inherited Severus' nose, or lose his mother's eye colour had kept him from pursuing those thoughts, any further. Perhaps it was a little arrogant on his part, but he thought that he'd rather look like the handsome James Potter, than the Greasy Git of the Dungeons, Severus Snape. He couldn't help being relieved also that he seemed to have gotten the best features of both his parents.

"Harry."

Harry was snapped out of his reverie by Ginny's soft voice. He looked at her with moist eyes.

"Ginny, I-"

His palms were sweaty, and he looked at Ginny with uncertainty.

Ginny felt awkward as well. She felt as though she were looking at a stranger. She knew that it was crazy. Harry was still Harry, and of course she loved him, no matter what he looked like. Right?

Harry wasn't sure who made the first move, but he felt all his fears and doubts melt the instant he had her in his arms, and felt her tender lips on his.

She smiled slightly and ruffled his silky hair. "You look so different, but-" She held his shoulders and pushed him back slightly. "-I like it. It'll take some getting used to but you look really sexy. I feel like I'm cheating on my boyfriend."

Harry raised an eyebrow and peered over her shoulder at Hermione and Ron.

Hermione was an extremely intelligent and perceptive girl. She knew that Harry was worried that they would reject him because of his new appearance.

"You have to ask, Harry?" Hermoine answered the unasked question. She turned to Ron. "We don't care what Harry looks like right Ron?"

Ron stared a minute at Harry, before the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. "Of course not mate. I guess I can get over the fact that you look like Snape, as long as you don't start acting like him."

Neville seemed to look a little worried about that as well.

Harry smirked at Ron's discomfort, but was appreciative nonetheless for the support his friend had maintained throughout this whole ordeal. Harry felt a warm glow that his friends were willing to put aside their animosity towards Severus, so that Harry didn't have to choose between them. The choice would have been unbearable. He'd wanted a family since he'd been very young. Well, a family that treated him as though he were a part of them; a family that loved and cherished him and cared about his happiness and well-being. On the other hand, he cared very deeply for his friends; they may not be family by blood, but they were family nonetheless.

As he sat next to his friends, and hesitatingly put his arm around Ginny, he began to feel a little of his anxiety about the strange twists his life had taken recently, subside a bit. While it was true that things would never be quite the same; he would never be the same again, he could at least rely on his friends to always be there for him.

Despite, Ginny's attestations to the contrary, he noticed that she seemed a little ill at ease when he placed his arm around her frail shoulders. She stiffened slightly, and then over-compensated by gushing over his new appearance. Harry felt a pang of regret. He realised that she probably felt just like she had joked about; like she was dating a stranger. Like she was cheating on her boyfriend.

"So, Harry, are you going to move back into the tower now that you’re back to normal?" Hermione asked, as she leant back onto Ron's chest. They looked so natural and comfortable with each other, Harry thought jealously. Would he and Ginny be able to get back to the comforting familiar level that their relationship had reached?

Harry hesitated. He felt that rush of unfamiliar emotion wash over him again. The reluctance to leave Severus' quarters was almost overwhelming. Harry admonished himself; what was he, a child, afraid to leave his Daddy's side? But he couldn't shake the sense of loss he experienced whenever he thought of leaving his room, and the new home that he'd made with Severus.

"I think that I'll move back slowly," Harry began cautiously, trying to gauge their reaction.

Hermione nodded in understanding. "It's okay Harry. It's perfectly normal that you'd be reluctant leave Snape's quarters."

"It's not just Snape's quarters. It's our quarters now," Harry explained.

Ron looked panicked. "But you are coming back, aren't you Harry?"

"Of course I am," Harry reassured him. "I just still want to spend some nights with my, uh-with Severus."

"Well, that's understandable, but just so long as you don't forget your friends," Ron said anxiously.

"Ron," Harry admonished. "How could you even suggest that?"

Ron broke out in a grin. "Well, let's arrange a welcome-back party for you then."

Harry felt his spirits rise. Yeah, a party. Having fun, letting go of his worries, and just being a normal teenager. He desperately needed that right now. Of course, what normal meant for the likes of Harry Potter, was a question that begged to be answered.

"Sounds great," Harry said excitedly.

"Good. I'll talk to Seamus about getting the-" Ron lowered his voice to a whisper, "-firewhiskey".

Hermione shot him a disapproving look. "Ron, one of these days, you're all going to get caught, and be expelled."

"No we're not." He patted Harry on the back. "They'd never expel the Saviour of the Wizarding World," he said cheekily. He nodded to Neville. "Nor his accomplices."

Harry chuckled. He was inclined to agree with Ron that McGonagall would never expel him or his friends for breaking the rules, no matter how severely. On the other hand, he had an inkling that Severus would be far from lenient if he discovered that not only had his son and his friends, snuck alcohol into their dorms, which was strictly forbidden, but the fact that his son was consuming said alcohol to the point of inebriation. With Severus' views on drinking, they'd probably all be in detention till the end of term, if they were caught.

"Uh Ron. We have to be very, very careful we don't get caught. If my father-"

Ron's expression sobered. "Yeah." He shuddered. "I don't even want to think about the kind of detentions that he'd come up with. We'll just have to be really careful we don't get caught. That's all."

"Or we could just forgo the alcohol Ron. It's not like it's a prerequisite to having a good time," Hermione said primly.

Ginny nodded in agreement.

Ron grinned at Harry. "Yeah, but it's more fun."

Harry smiled. Good old Ron. A warm feeling spread over him. This was so different from the sense of darkness that had surrounded him for so long. This was just having fun relaxing with his friends, and yeah, doing something against the rules, and enjoying the feeling of not getting caught. Well, at least he hoped they weren't going to be caught. This reminded him of the feeling of adventure and exhilaration that he used to feel when he'd sneak off to Hogsmeade under his invisibility cloak in third year. Of course then, he used to feel a certain satisfaction that he was so blatantly pulling the wool over Severus' eyes, and getting away with it, while the man knew that Harry was breaking the rules, but couldn't prove it. Harry had a slight twinge of guilt. This was no longer his Professor that he was trying to hoodwink; this was his father. His father, who had been incredibly patient; well… patient for Severus, that is, and had stood by him throughout the whole ordeal with the Dark Magic.

One look at Ron's happy face though, and Harry pushed aside his reservations in favour of allowing himself to feel excited and optimistic about the future.

---------

It felt incredibly good to be able to wander about the castle without a bodyguard, but Ginny still accompanied Harry down to Snape's quarters.

They stood and stared at each other awkwardly, and Harry shifted from foot to foot. "I guess I'll see you at dinner," he said hesitatingly.

Ginny nodded. "You do look so handsome. I mean, not that you weren't before," she was quick to add.

She gently touched his face. "And now you can really see your eyes," She broke off shyly. This was all so strange, she thought. She kept having to remind herself that this was Harry, and not some random stranger. It was all so bizarre. She could tell herself logically that it was really Harry Potter inside, but when she stared into the eyes of a virtual stranger, it was hard to associate the two. What she told Harry was true though. He had the most lovely eyes, and she was so thankful for Harry's sake and her own, that at least his eye colour had not changed drastically; for Harry that he still had a link to his Mum, and for her that she still had some connection to the old Harry.

---------

"Severus?' Harry called out when he stepped through door, and Severus didn't greet him like he usually did. "Severus!" He called again, and worried his lip when his query went unanswered.

Hmm, maybe he was brewing in his lab, Harry suddenly thought. No, he wouldn't be brewing when it was almost time for dinner.

Harry knocked on Severus' bedroom door, but his knock remained unanswered. He was really starting to worry, when he noticed light spilling out from the bottom of the closed bathroom door.

Oops, Harry thought embarrassedly. He didn't hear the shower running, so he assumed that Severus must be attending to his, uh-- Harry felt his face warm up, --bodily functions.

Harry went to his room, and changed into some clean clothes. After he pulled his tee-shirt over his head, and his straight hair fell softly back into place, he stood for a few moments and stared at himself in his vanity mirror. He touched his ebony hair, and reveled at the silky, soft texture of it. It lay straight and smooth at the top, and curled slightly upward at the bottom. At first glance, it appeared that his hair was darker than before, but when he turned his head a certain way, the light capturing the auburn highlights, softened the look of the dark hair against his new lighter skin tone.

Harry couldn't help but wonder what he would have looked like as a child, had his Mum and James never put glamour on to hide his appearance. He'd seen pictures of himself when he was younger, but he had as before, been a miniature of James Potter. Harry felt a wave of gratitude wash over him for the man who he'd spent the first fifteen months of his life with.

Although Harry felt some remorse and loss for the person he thought that he was, he also realised that he was on the brink of a new beginning. He wished so much that he had known Severus was his father all along. He didn't regret the time that he'd had with James, though he couldn't remember it, but he wished after his Mum had died that he'd been sent to Severus. Of course he knew that Severus hadn't been mature enough, or free from Voldemort's influence, but Harry couldn't help but wonder had Severus known that a part of his Mum had lived on in himself, and a young child that needed him, if he wouldn't have stepped up to the plate and been the father he needed to be.

Harry took one last look at his new appearance, and steeled himself for what he knew would be the true test--Walking into the Great Hall, with hundreds of eyes pinned on him, being the object once again of whispers, stares and the object of gossip and false rumours. He was sure that his picture would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow. He could only imagine what the headline would be:

HARRY POTTER'S SHOCKING NEW APPEARANCE

In a shocking twist, the saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter, or should we say Harry Snape, has transformed into the spitting image of his new-found father, Hogwart's illustrious Potions Master Severus Snape. One must imagine that his other father, James Potter, must be rolling in his grave at the thought that his son looks so much like his arch nemesis.

Harry shook off his negative thoughts, and squared his shoulders. What was he a brave Gryffindor, or a mouse?

Stepping out into the hallway, he collided with Severus, and he steadied himself on his feet.

Harry looked up. "Severus, there you--"

Harry's jaw dropped.

"Se-Se-Severus." Harry's lips opened and closed like a fish, unable to form a coherent phrase.

Harry gawked up at his father. He couldn't believe it! Gone were the stringy, clumpy, greasy mounds of hair. Was this the same man who'd been touted the Greasy Git of the Dungeons? He even smelled like freshly washed hair!

Severus snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face.

Harry blinked, but couldn't stop staring.

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Yo-yo-your hair," he finally gasped.

"What about my hair?" Severus growled.

His look defied Harry to comment on the fact that he'd finally washed his oily hair.

Of course Harry ignored that look.

"You actually washed your hair!" Harry said in disbelief.

Severus pinned him with a ferocious glare. He knew that he was being unreasonable since his motive for washing his hair in the first place was for shock value, but he was beginning to regret that decision. He was only going to bring more attention to himself.

"You look nice," Harry insisted.

Severus only glared more.

"Yes well, stop gawking and get moving or we'll miss dinner," he said gruffly.

Harry couldn't wipe the stunned look from his face, and kept sneaking glances at Severus as they walked down the corridors towards the Great Hall.

Harry wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He felt as though he was a wild animal in the zoo; every head turned to gawk at them. Severus just glared back at them, but Harry could hear the whispers and curious stares, wondering who the new student was with Snape, and snide whispers that Snape had actually washed his hair.

Of course Snape had ears like a bat, and took great relish in handing out detentions to any student daring to voice their awe in the fact that Severus Snape was no longer the Greasy Git of the Dungeons; Hell had frozen over. Snape had washed his greasy locks!

If Harry thought that the attention that they'd attracted had been unbearable walking the halls of Hogwarts, then walking into the Great Hall, facing hundreds of gawking, curious students and staff alike, was downright excruciating.

Harry kept his head down, and made a beeline for the Gryffindor table.

By this time of course, rumours had spread through Gryffindor House of Harry's shocking new appearance. To Harry it seemed as though the House was divided. There were some like Seamus, who were torn between his hatred of Snape, and the unsettling fact that his dorm mate looked a little too much like the hated professor for comfort, and the fact that this was his mate Harry Potter, whom he had shared laughter and good times with since first year.

Despite the incredible awkwardness of the situation, Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the reaction of the general student body and staff. They looked like a bunch of gaping fish, sitting there with their mouths wide open, their heads whipping back and forth between the Head Table and Gryffindor Table, trying to decide which was more bizarre; Snape having washed his greasy hair, or the stranger who looked suspiciously like their most hated professor, sitting in the chair that was normally occupied by Harry Potter, chatting it up with Harry Potter's best buddies.

It didn't take long for most to put the pieces of the puzzle together and realise with shocking clarity that Harry Potter now resembled a miniature Snape. Harry's ears buzzed with the mixture of jeers, whispers and speculation about how this unexpected turn of events came about. For once, all the Houses were in agreement; they felt as though they'd stepped into another dimension.

Once the Slytherins had figured out that Harry Potter now looked the spitting image of their Head of House, Harry could feel their icy stares on him, and Harry knew that it would be only their fear of Snape's wrath that would keep his snakes from taking out their revenge on him. Snape's Slytherins had not been pleased when they discovered that Harry was Snape's son, but because Snape was not overly demonstrative towards Harry, and their interaction, up until this point, had been in private, they were able to pretend that Harry was still the annoying Gryffindor that they loved to hate. Now though, when the evidence of his parentage was impossible to deny, with the proof staring them in the face, the Slytherins would not take this news lightly.

If the students were paralysed with shock, the staff at the Head Table were, if possible, even more gobsmacked at, not only the extremely uncharacteristic behaviour of their colleague, but the astonishing revelation that the Saviour of the Wizarding world, famous former son of the late great James Potter, now resembled the short-tempered, irascible Potions Master. They had barely gotten over the shock that Harry Potter, was not really a Potter after all, but now there was no denying his paternity; it was as plain as the noses on their faces. As was the case with their students, the normally cool and professional professors of Hogwarts were unable to decide who to gawk at.

Minerva looked as though she had tied her bun too tight. Her cool composure cracked like broken china. She kept opening up her mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to spit out the words.

Severus' patience snapped. "For Merlin's sake, woman, stop gawking. Anyone would think that you'd never seen anyone bloody well wash their hair before."

He glared at her, hoping to deter her to put into words, what she was thinking; that since he was not bloody well anyone--and since he was the Greasy Git of the Dungeons, who never washed his hair, then it was perfectly within her rights to gawk, as he put it!

"So Severus," Minerva finally found her voice, "I assume that that's Harry over there?"

"You assume correctly Minerva.”.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I had suspected that Lily might have put a glamour on Harry, but I had rather thought that it was a permanent glamour, as it had held for seventeen years, and showed no signs of wearing off."

Severus' brow wrinkled. "Yes, I had assumed as much as well."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "So, how did the glamour reverse itself so dramatically, and so suddenly."

Severus lowered his voice to a whisper, to include Horace, who was on his other side. "The White Magic Ritual had some rather unexpected results, and not just for Harry," he said ominously.

Horace's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean, and not just for Harry," he said a little too loudly, causing others to eye them curiously.

"Keep your voice down Horace," Severus snapped. "We should perhaps meet later and discuss the details, in private."

Horace looked apologetic. "Yes, yes of course Severus."

-----------

Harry finally gave up trying to enjoy his meal, and shoved his plate to the side. He had rather hoped that as the meal progressed, and their curiosity satiated, that everyone would find something else, or someone else to focus their attention on. But that expectation was unrealistic, he realised with frustration. If anything, the whispering, pointing and glaring only intensified.

What made Harry particularly nervous, was the hatred and resentment he could feel coming from the Slytherin table. Draco wasn't brave enough to look Harry in the eye, but when he thought that Harry wasn't looking, he wore such a sour expression, that it looked as though he had been sucking on a lemon.

Adams, who was still seething from resentment over the harsh punishment he'd received from his Head of House, had no problem looking at Harry in the eye, whatsoever, and the malice that glinted in his eyes, had Harry confident that the Slytherin had in no way forgotten their earlier confrontation.

There was not one Slytherin who looked happy with this new development, and Harry was sure that the Slytherins had considered him a threat the moment that they found out that he was their Head of House's son. The Slytherins were a close-knit bunch that had an odd idea of what constituted loyalty and honour. They had always selfishly held onto Severus as a sort of father-figure, and mentor, and when Harry came into the picture, they resented having to share their time and attention with their Head of House's real son. No matter how much Severus threatened them with bodily harm, Harry didn't trust any of them as far as he could throw them, and Harry was certain that they would just find a way to get to him, without Severus finding out. They were Slytherins after all; they were experts in subtlety, stealth and deviousness.

Ironically enough, the only one that Harry was not worried about was Draco, and the reason for that was twofold. While it was more than a possibility that Adams could convince Draco or any of the other Slytherins, through fear and threats of harm, to take revenge on Harry, Draco was more afraid of Severus. Harry had to admit grudgingly that the Slytherin had enormous respect for Severus, and while there was no love lost between him and Draco, Draco would not consciously hurt Severus, and would be very careful not to incur his wrath again, especially so soon after the last time.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny's soft fingers brushed against his arm, and he looked into her soft brown eyes that shone with concern.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess, but I'm not really hungry anymore."

"Yeah, me neither," she admitted softly.

He saw that her plate remained virtually untouched as well.

Harry stood up. "I've gotta get some air. You want to get out of here?" He addressed Ron and Hermione as well. They looked like they hadn't made much headway into their dinner either.

They all nodded solemnly and tried to duck out the exit without drawing too much attention to themselves. Of course that was easier said than done.

All eyes followed their every move, until they slammed the heavy wood doors behind them.

Severus' concerned eyes also followed Harry as he exited out the door. He shoved the plate with his half-eaten meal to the side, dabbed at his mouth lightly with his napkin, and then threw it on the table.

He turned to Minerva, and then Horace. "I would like to speak with you both this evening in Albus' office at... let's say seven," he said quietly as he rose from his seat.

Both Minerva and Horace nodded, and exchanged a look as they studied Severus' departing figure.

---------

"Harry."

Harry turned around, startled by his father's deep voice summoning him.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny couldn't help but gawk at the man again. It just boggled the mind how squeaky clean Snape's hair was.

Severus caught them staring, and gave them an icy glare.

They pulled their gazes away reluctantly.

Severus turned his attention to his son. "How are you holding up, Harry?" he asked with concern.

Harry sighed. "I feel like I've stepped back in time. Will I ever be able to have a normal life?"

"I would imagine that this will all blow over, and in a few weeks they will find another target to focus their attentions on," he said sympathetically.

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "A few weeks?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. Teenagers! While he was somewhat sympathetic to Harry's plight, he rather thought that adolescents were outrageously melodramatic. He believed what he had said to Harry, that this whole affair would soon be a thing of the past, and they just had to ride it out.

Harry, of course, thought that enduring weeks more of being gawked, stared at and being the object of speculation and resentment, seemed like a lifetime. He was just so tired of it all.

Severus studied his son for a moment. "You know Harry, Christmas is only a few weeks away. Perhaps a little holiday away from it all would take our minds off of all our problems, and'" he couldn't believe he was going to say this, "perhaps your friends could come to visit as well."

Harry's spirits lifted for the first time in weeks. "Where would we go?"

Severus looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Well, we could go to Spinner's End, but its rather run-down at the moment, and would need some extensive repairs and a good clean up before it would be habitable."

"Well, we could always go on the weekends and work on fixing it up and cleaning it a bit," Harry suggested.

It was good to see the boy brighten up a bit, even if it was only for a short time. Yes, it was one of his more brilliant ideas, if Severus could say so himself. They both needed a little distance from all this chaos and while he was not inclined to celebrate such inane holidays such as Christmas, he would make an effort for Harry's sake.

"Yes, that would be suitable if you are agreeable. We could take a visit this weekend and assess the state of the premises."

"Great." Harry smiled up at his father. "I'll see you later. I'd just like to spend a little time with my friends."

Severus nodded. "Just so you remember to be back to our quarters by curfew. Unless of course you plan on spending the night in the Tower."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'll wait till tomorrow and move a couple of things back up there then."

Harry noticed that Severus' lips tightened slightly. That was the only sign that Harry could tell that the man wasn't as nonchalant as he pretended to be about Harry moving back up to Gryffindor.

"I mean, uh, I'll be only moving a few things because I'll still be staying some nights in our quarters." Harry noticed the slight relaxing of Severus' shoulders.

"I know that you're anxious to get rid of me and all, but c'mon Severus, what would you do without a cheeky teenager to keep you on your toes?" Harry teased lightly.

Harry could see the slight quirk of Severus' lips, but then the usual mask was up.

"Well then, unless the cheeky teenager wishes to avoid a lengthy and very monotonous detention, said teenager had better have his butt back here by curfew."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Gotcha."

"Oh and Harry," he added as his son started to walk away.

Harry looked at him expectantly.

Severus had been going to invite Harry to his meeting with Horace and Minerva, but thought better of it. Harry could use a night of simply relaxing and enjoying the company of his friends. Besides, he'd rather talk with him privately anyway. There were many things that they needed to discuss, including the unexpected consequences of the ritual.

Severus shook his head. "Nothing. Just be careful if you are walking back here alone later."

Severus had noticed the disturbing reactions of his Slytherins, and thought that perhaps a little chat was needed to instill a little fear in them to keep the little snakes in line. Merlin forbid if he ever caught anyone so much as laying a finger on his son, and that included his Slytherins.

Harry sighed. "Yeah," he said dejectedly. So much for being able to wander the halls unescorted. So much for finally being free; so much for finally being a normal teenager.

Severus hesitated. He stiffly put his hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Have patience. It'll get better."

Harry gave him a small smile. "I hope so."

"It will," Severus said firmly.

Severus watched his son walk away, and couldn't help the increasingly familiar feelings of helplessness, once again take hold of him. Why didn't anyone ever warn him that fatherhood would be so damned complicated and hard on his nerves? What made it damned hard was the fact that he couldn't even help his son. He couldn't even protect him properly. It would all be so much easier if Harry could stay out of trouble for five minutes, but Harry was attracted to trouble like a moth to light.

------

"So, mate. About the party," Ron began excitedly.

Harry looked at him anxiously. "Ron, do you really think that anyone is going to want to come to a party in my honour?"

"Not that I approve of sneaking in alcohol for the party, but Ron's got a point Harry. You're still who you are, and nothing's going to change that," she said firmly.

"Well at least not with the Gryffindors that is," Ron added. "But who really cares about anyone else anyway."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "They're right Harry. I mean, it's all a little strange, but it doesn't change who you are inside. Anyone who doesn't accept that, wasn't never you're friend anyway, and not worth caring about."

Harry smiled. "Sorry guys,' he said sheepishly. "I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself, and I'm forgetting how lucky I am to have friends like you guys."

"Don't forget it again," Ron said in mock sternness.

Harry chuckled. "I won't mate."

"So, Seamus-" he lowered his voice, "-hid the firewhiskey under our beds."

"Really?" Harry perked up. "I could really go for one now."

Ginny and Hermione looked shocked. "Harry," they said in unison.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax girls, Severus would have a fit if I went back to our quarters with alcohol on my breath."

"Well, if you only had one--" Ron began.

"Trust me, he'd know. That hawk nose of his is not just for show," Harry said laughingly.

"Speaking of Severus, it's almost time for curfew," Harry said suddenly."Aw damn, I'd better hurry."

Why did it always seem that he was rushing to get back to Severus' quarters before curfew! Well, at least when he was back in the Tower, he wouldn't have to worry about it all the time. Harry thought it was ironic that all of a sudden he was so concerned with respecting curfew, and Severus' feelings when he'd spent so many nights sneaking around under his invisibility cloak , relishing the fact that he was breaking the rules under Severus' large nose.

"Do you want me to walk down with you Harry?" Ginny asked quietly.

"I don't know if that is such a good idea Ginny. Those Slytherins were giving Harry some nasty looks. And then you'd have to walk back from the dark dungeons by yourself. Maybe we should all walk Harry down," Hermione suggested.

While Harry and Ginny exchanged disappointed glances, as they both had wanted some privacy to say goodnight to each other, they both saw the logic in Hermione's suggestion. At least till things calm down a bit, it was best that Harry wasn't alone in the corridors at night.

Harry walked back to Severus' quarters with his shoulders slumped. When was his life ever going to be his own?

Thankfully, Hermione and Ron stayed back and allowed the two some privacy to say goodnight.

-------

"Thomas," she said nervously. She grasped onto the front of his robes. "You have to be more careful. They're asking a lot of questions."

His face twisted in an ugly scowl. "I'll take care of them."

He fingered the polished wood of his wand and then pocketed it.

The colour slowly drained from her face. "'What are you going to do?"

"Suffice it to say, that they won't be asking anymore questions," he said coldly.

He waved his arm and the hinges creaked under the force, as the door slammed into the wall.

She saw the dark form, once again disappear into the dark.

She closed the door, with shaking hands, and secured the locks in place.

She sunk into the couch with relief, taking the weight off of her legs that didn't feel strong enough to support her anymore. She stared wistfully into the flickering flames, and allowed her thoughts to consume her.

She pressed her finger to her temple. What had she done? she asked herself for the millionth time, as her frail body wracked with her sobbing. He had been so handsome at one time. She'd fallen for his charms. But he wasn't who she thought he was, and now she had to live with the consequences of her actions. She had to live knowing what evil his seed had reaped.

And she was powerless to stop it.

A blood curdling scream wrenched the night air.

------------

Harry's eyes flew open, and with a feeling of dread, realised that he'd had yet another nightmare. Once again, he could feel beads of sweat drip down his face, and he whipped back the covers with his shaking hand.

He could feel his knees knock together as his legs wobbled under him.

This wasn't supposed to happen anymore. The dream had been provoked by the Dark Magic, that's what he was certain of, that's what Severus was convinced of, so why was he being tortured again by these cruel, all too real dreams?

Harry swallowed his panic, and grabbed the candle off his night table.

The walk down the darkened hall with only the flickering of a candle to guide him, seem to take forever. He hesitated; should he wake up Severus? It was still so hard to let himself depend on others, and Harry wasn't sure if he'd ever feel comfortable going to someone for any kind of help, let alone emotional support. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

He rested his hand on the door, and hesitated only a moment. Maybe leaning on someone else wasn't so horrible after all.

Maybe it was time to let Severus really be a father to him.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, and wiped his sweaty palms on his bath robe. He choked down his suffocating fear and rapped on the door a little harder than he'd planned on; his knuckles throbbed from the punishing blow. Rubbing his bruised hand, Harry winced. It was going to hurt like a bugger tomorrow. At the moment however, all he could feel was the numbness and hollowness washing over him like a bitter wind.

The door swung open abruptly, revealing an ashen-faced Severus, dressed in a dark green bath robe, staring down at him. Harry felt a twang of guilt when he saw the dark shadows and strained expression on his father's face. The man was obviously exhausted and Harry knew that despite his stoic denial, that Severus was beginning to feel the stress of the past few weeks. It couldn't be easy after all, Harry realised guiltily, having a son who had been possessed by Dark Magic, and whose behaviour had been erratic and unpredictable. He had pushed the man past the point of endurance. For a man who had prided himself on his impatience, Severus had been surprisingly tolerant.

Severus' eyes crinkled in concern. "Harry? What's wrong? Did you have another nightmare?"

Harry nodded. "But it's okay," he said quickly. 'I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'll let you get back to sleep."

Harry felt a gentle hand clamp down on his shoulder, as he turned around to leave.

"Harry," Severus said softly. "Look at me," he commanded gently.

Harry looked up into his father's concerned eyes.

Severus studied his son's pale face and he felt that increasingly familiar flutter of concern. He looked much younger than seventeen, clad only in too baggy striped pyjamas that hung off his frail frame. The boy looked so small and childlike, and a feeling of fierce protectiveness overcame him.

"Come, I'll make some tea and we'll talk," he said as he gently guided Harry into the parlour and motioned for him to sit on the couch.

He took in Harry's shivering form, and grabbed the blanket that was draped on the back of the couch, and handed it to Harry, who looked up at him gratefully.

"Thanks…”

Severus nodded, but threw a couple of more logs into the fireplace. He mumbled a soft "Incendio" and the smouldering embers beneath erupted into crackling flames, licking the fresh logs until Harry could feel his toes tingle as the warmth crept back into his chilled skin.

Severus lifted an eyebrow at Harry's bare feet.

Harry smiled sheepishly at him and shrugged his shoulders. Putting on slippers had been the last thing on his mind.

"Just a minute," Severus flicked his wand and Harry heard a swooshing sound in back of him. and then a pair of maroon slippers clipped Harry in the ear, before landing on the thick, plush carpeting before his feet.

Harry clutched his throbbing ear, and glared at his father.

Severus smirked. He motioned with his eyes for Harry to put his slippers on.

Harry huffed, and slid his feet in the slippers.

The corners of Severus' mouth lifted slightly. "I'll go make some tea."

Harry could feel some of the tension lift from his clenched shoulders. He nodded.

"Here."

Harry's eyelids fluttered open.

Severus nudged a steaming cup of tea into Harry's clasped hands.

Harry unfurled his fingers and grasped on tightly to the cup, with trembling hands.

"Thanks," Harry whispered. "What's in this?" he asked curiously.

Severus took a seat on the chair opposite to Harry, and cradled his teacup. "Chamomile, Lavender and Passion Flower. Nature's natural relaxants," Severus explained.

Although Harry's mind was far from eased from the hellish visions of his dreams, the organic properties of the herbal tea were beginning to act as a muscle relaxant and the tension loosened up slightly.

Severus peered at him from over the teacup. The boy looks slightly more relaxed, he thought, but the large emerald eyes shadowed by dark smudges underneath, contrasted starkly against the pale skin.

"So...your dream?" Severus prodded.

Harry took a deep breath and clanked his teacup down on the burnished wood of the antique coffee table. "I don't understand. I thought this was all because of the Dark Magic. How could this be happening?"

"You've had some very traumatic experiences in your life Harry. No one is immune to nightmares, Dark Magic or no. They could simply be a manifestation of all the stress and anxiety you've been experiencing for the past several weeks.”

"No, this was not an ordinary dream Severus. Of that I'm sure," Harry said determinedly. "I've had too many dreams, both normal and otherwise, not to know the difference. There was something really evil about this dream."

Severus placed his cup on the table as well, and leant forward slightly. "Harry, I need you to tell me about your dream, and try to remember every detail, no matter how inconsequential it may seem."

Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself before he was assaulted with the horrifying images swirling through his mind.

"The first dream I had was worse," he explained. "It was so creepy and I felt sort of like I'd been near a Dementor; as though all the happiness had been sucked out of me."

Severus' eyes widened in surprise. "Do you remember the details of the dream, or was it more of a feeling?"

Harry shuddered. "Oh no, trust me. It was way more than just a feeling. I remember every fine, creepy detail of it."

"It's strange but, it was like I was in a penseived memory, and not a dream. It was as though I was there in the room, but they couldn't see me. It sounds crazy, I could feel everyone's emotions and hear everyone's thoughts, but it wasn't like when I used to have visions with Voldemort. I wasn't inside their heads…”

Severus looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Where did the dream take place?"

Harry tensed up again. "I don't know, but I think that it was some sort of cabin in the woods, and there was this old man; he was at the door to the cabin, talking with a woman. I don't know...but I think the man was a Muggle," he said with sudden realisation.

"But the woman, she had a wand in her hand. She was definitely a witch. And the man, he started threatening her, and then he said something strange, about--" Harry felt tingles down his spine just thinking about the sickening smell of blood...

Severus' concern heightened when Harry's face paled.

Harry stood up abruptly, and clutched his stomach. "I think I'm going to be si-" He ran to the toilet.

Harry wretched until his throat was parched and raw. He lifted his head from where it hovered over the rim of the toilet, as the hollow sound of a light knock echoed on the walls of the bathroom.

"Harry, are you alright?" Severus' husky voice came through the slightly opened door.

"Yeah," Harry croaked.

"I'll get you something to settle your stomach." Harry grunted, "Thanks."

He forced himself up off of the cold bathroom floor and stared at himself in the mirror.

Harry stared wide-eyed at his deathly-pale complexion. I look ghastly, he thought, and then laughed hysterically. Now was definitely not the time for vanity. He splashed cool water on his face and grabbed the green face-towel hanging on the hook. He patted his face softly with the plush towel, and hung it back on the hook.

"Drink it all," Severus instructed when Harry came back into the room, his face as pale as sour milk, and his eyes as glassy as marbles.

Harry eyed the steaming cup of potion sitting on the coffee table with distaste, but obeyed.

The pungent odour made his eyes water, but he pinched his nose and drank it quickly. He thought that it was ironic that something that was supposed to alleviate nausea, could taste so horrible that it made you want to vomit.

"Why do all these Potions taste so bloody horrible?" Harry asked in disgust.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What did you expect--that it would taste like strawberries or bananas?" he sneered.

Harry scrunched up his face. "Well no, but it doesn't have to taste like cow dung either?"

Severus quirked his lips. "Well, actually, one of the principle ingredients is-"

At Harry's horrified look, Severus chuckled.

Harry scowled at him.

"So, are you ready to continue?" Severus asked gently.

Harry sat back down on the couch and raked his fingers nervously through his hair. "Yeah, as ready as I'll ever be,'" he said reluctantly.

"So, you said something about a man threatening a woman, and saying something strange," Severus prodded.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, something about-" Harry shivered. "-something about blood and feathers, and he accused her son of being involved. And then the dream sort of shifted to this guy sitting in front of a fire, and there were-uh, feathers and blood all over the ground and, oh God there was blood on his face, and-" Harry paled again. "-he smelled like blood." Harry was thankful that he'd had the anti-nausea potion, otherwise he'd surely be bent over the toilet bowl again.

Severus looked thoughtful. "Sounds reminiscent of some sort of sacrificial Dark Magic."

"Yeah, that's exactly what it felt like," Harry agreed.

"I need to think about this Harry. I'm not convinced that it's more than a psychological reaction to all that you've experienced for the past several weeks. However-" he added at Harry's obvious agitation, “-we will explore this further"

Harry worried his lip. "So you don't think that it has anything to do with the Dark Magic then?"

"No," Severus said firmly. "The White Magic would have cleansed any traces of Dark Magic away."

"How can you be so sure?" Harry asked, unconvinced.

Harry watched in confusion as Severus began to unbutton his shirt cuff. Severus turned his arm around slowly.

Harry's eyes widened when he saw the smooth, flawless skin where the Dark Mark had once stood.

He reached over and ran his hand over the pale skin, causing the dark, fine hairs to rise, and looked up at Severus. "Your Mark," he whispered. "It's gone. But how? I don't understand."

"I discussed this somewhat with Horace and Minerva last night, and we came to the conclusion that much as the Dark Ritual had residual effects on your soul, tainting it with Dark Magic when you invoked the Horcrux, the powerful White Magic resulted in a similar backlash, and seems to have cleansed my soul as well. Not only did my Dark Mark disappear, but I had several other scars caused by Dark Magic, that adorned my body, and they are gone as well."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But that's wonderful. Now, you can be free, you don't have to feel gu-"

"No," Severus said harshy. "That does not excuse me of my sins, Harry."

"But Severus, you are said yourself that your soul was cleansed," Harry argued.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "No Harry," Severus insisted with a pained expression. "It's not that simple."

"Don't you think that it's time that you forgave yourself, Severus?"

"You have no idea of the sins I've committed."

"I think that I've got some idea."

"You are but a naive, foolish child if you think that all that I've done can be erased with a simple spell," Severus spat.

Harry looked hurt, and Severus felt a twinge of guilt.

"Harry, I wasn't a Death Eater in name only. I've done things that-"

"Don’t treat me like a child, Severus," Harry said angrily. "I know that you've probably done things that you're not proud of."

"There is no probably about it Harry," Severus said in a hard voice. "I've done things that would make your fingernails curl."

"That's in the past," Harry argued. "You're a different man now."

"And you think that excuses what I've done, Potter?" Severus demanded harshly.

"No, but-"

"I'm not James Potter. I'm not a hero, and I'm not a noble Gryffindor," Severus sneered.

"How can you say that after what you've told me about my fa-, uh-about James?" Harry argued. "It doesn't exactly sound like he was innocent either."

Harry jumped when Severus slammed his hand down on the table.

"Do you think that anything that Potter's done even comes close to what I've done? Potter was an arrogant, bullying bastard at fifteen, but I was a-"

Severus rose and went to stand by the window, and stared unseeingly at the snow swirling to the ground.

"I wasn't fifteen Harry. I knew better. I'm a murderer."

Harry went to stand by Severus' side, and touched his shoulder lightly. "No, you're a good man Severus. A good man who has paid for his mistakes."

Severus' heart lurched as he stared into his young son's face. "No Harry," he whispered. "I'm not now, nor have ever been a good man."

"That's not true Severus," Harry said softly. "You've more than made up for anything you've done in the past."

Looking deeply into Harry's trusting, naive face, Severus wished more than anything that he could believe what Harry was saying; that he could be what Harry wanted him to be.

"Tell that to the families whose loved ones are gone forever, Harry. Tell that to the children who are now orphans because of me.”

Although Severus was considerably taller than him, Harry fisted Severus' robes angrily.

"How about I tell you something? How about I tell you what I see Severus. I see a man who has protected me and has sacrificed his life for others. I see a man who is brave and incredibly strong and a man who never gives himself a break. You're so determined to hate yourself and to make everyone else hate you too, that you push everyone away."

"You know Dumbledore was right, Severus,” he added soflty. “It's too bad that you've never let others see the better man.”

Looking into those endless pools of green that so reminded him of Lily, Severus again felt that overwhelming feeling of pride that this boy, his son, could be possibly be a part of him.

"You are so much like your mother," he whispered. He gently carded his fingers through Harry's hair, and then removed his hand quickly. "So forgiving…"

Harry pleaded with his eyes for Severus to forgive himself.

Suddenly Severus felt extremely weary. This was rather a heavy conversation for the middle of the night.

"I don't need to speak with anyone. You're my father, and I, uh-care about you," Harry said awkwardly.

Severus wanted to say the words back, but they wouldn't come out. Instead,he again put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently squeezed it.

He nodded. "Come, I think perhaps both of us could use some sleep."

Harry blanched at the mention of the word sleep.

"I'll give you something to suppress your dreams, and you should have a restful sleep."

Harry looked up at him with bleary eyes. "I hope so."

---------

Harry woke up the next morning, feeling as though he'd been run over by a lorry. True, he hadn't had any more dreams, but he still felt drained emotionally, and he was thankful that it was Saturday, and there weren't any classes today. It was also the day he was supposed to move back to the Tower and Harry felt incredibly ambiguous about it. What if he woke up with another dream? Of course, Harry wasn't a stranger to nightmares, and he'd suffered many a night waking up, covered in beads of perspiration and tangled in his bedclothes, and handled it by himself.

Harry had to admit though, it had been wonderful to have Severus there last night to lean on and not feel so alone; it was a foreign feeling for Harry to open up to anyone and admit to what he believed was a weakness. Harry was nothing, if not self-sufficient, and possibly only second in stubbornness, and self-recriminations to his father. Harry realised that he was a hypocrite, after the lecture he'd given his father about not being so hard on himself and forgiving himself. He was more like his father than he was willing to admit.

Harry entered the kitchen a few minutes later, the bright sunlight filtering in through the dingy dungeon windows assaulted his tired eyes, making them water.

"How long have you been up?" Harry asked Severus as he rubbed his gritty eyes.

The man was fully-dressed, pale as a sheet, with bloodshot eyes and bent over the kitchen table, scratching his quill furiously upon a stack of parchments.

Severus looked up. "I never really slept after our talk."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Why didn't you take something to sleep also? You look like hell, Severus."

Severus raised his eyebrows.

Harry flushed. "Uh, I mean, you look tired."

Severus nodded. "I shall perhaps have a nap later. Grading papers always makes me tired."

Harry smiled. "That bad?"

Severus scowled. "The quality of this work is atrocious. I believe I'm wasting my time trying to teach students who feel that putting in half an effort is acceptable."

He put his quill down, and glared at Harry. "Speaking of which, I believe you and I will be having a discussion about your grades."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked defensively. "My grades are fine."

"Oh really? From what Minerva has told me, you received a troll on your last two exams, and failed to turn in your most recent assignment." He picked up a parchment with red scribble on it. ""And this essay looks like it was written by a third year."

"I can't believe that you're bringing this up now," Harry said angrily. He pulled open the ice-box and poured himself some pumpkin juice. "You know that I've been kind of preoccupied lately. Can't you give me a break?" he huffed.

Severus folded his hands together and leant his chin on top, as he studied Harry's flushed face. "If your grades had been stellar in previous years, I would agree that perhaps the reason for your decline is recent events, but I've realised that I have grossly underestimated you, Harry. With a little more effort, you could give Miss Granger a run for her money, but you choose to hand in sub-standard work. I've realised these past few weeks, living with you, that you are much more intelligent than you give yourself credit for."

Harry almost spit out his pumpkin juice. Snape was actually saying that he was intelligent? After years of degrading him, and making him feel worthless, the man was actually saying that he wasn't as incompetent as he'd believed?

Harry scratched his head. "Uh, thank you--I think."

"Yes, well don't go getting all big-headed. You need to apply yourself more if you wish to become an Auror. This work is unacceptable. I believe I've been too lenient with you."

Harry looked at him in disbelief.

Severus shoved the parchments aside, and stood up. "Why don't you get washed up, and we'll head on to the Great Hall for breakfast."

"Yeah, I think a shower would do me good," Harry agreed.

He started to head down the hall towards the lavatory, but turned around as realisation hit him.

"You know, I was thinking. I don't know if I can handle all the staring and whispering this morning. Do you think maybe we can skip the Great Hall and just eat here?"

"You can't hide forever, Harry. It's best to face this head on and deal with it. As I said before, it won't be long before this will all be yesterday's news and they'll focus their attention on other matters."

Harry squared his shoulders. "Yeah, you're right. I mean, what's the worst they can do? Sticks and stones and all that..."

Severus looked at Harry's departing figure thoughtfully. He wasn't as confident as he'd made the boy believe. He knew there was no danger from the Gryffindors, but he wasn't as certain that his Slytherins were going to be as mature. Severus knew that Harry was more than capable of defending himself, and was a strong wizard, but if a group of Slytherins confronted him while he was on his own, he would be at a disadvantage. He would definitely be having a little chat with his House about their recent behaviour.

-----------

Harry held his head up high as he walked into the Great Hall, and tried to ignore the stares and whispers.

Severus nodded in encouragement as he walked past Harry towards the Staff table. He gave a stern look to his Slytherins as he walked past, and most of them got the message. Still others made a show of submission, but secretly plotted to find ways to make their least favourite Gryffindor's life miserable.

Ginny shook her head. It still took a moment to wrap herself around the idea that this stranger was really Harry. She gave him a small, warm smile though and her heart beat faster, when he smiled back and his green eyes shone with affection.

"Hi," he said awkwardly. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but he felt it best to let Ginny take the lead until she felt a little more comfortable with his new appearance.

Ginny looked at him shyly and gently pulled him closer. She gave him a light, warm kiss and blushed slightly at her own boldness. This was crazy; she felt like they were strangers on their first date!

"So Harry, you moving back today?" Ron said with his mouth full. Hermione gave him an admonishing look.

Trust Ron to ruin a perfectly romantic moment. Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes Ron, I am."

Ron's face broke out in a grin. "This party's going to be great."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged worried looks.

"Yeah, I can't wait," Harry agreed. He desperately needed something to take his mind off of his nightmares. He thought maybe he might follow Severus' example and have a little nap before the party tonight. He was determined to enjoy himself and just have fun for once in his life, and hang out with his friends.

------

"Ron, who are all these people?" Hermione's voice rose shrilly, as she tried to speak over the blaring music. The walls of the common room rumbled to the rhythm of the booming bass.

"Just a few friends," Ron slurred. He tried to shove a bottle of firewhiskey into Hermione's hands; she jammed it back into his chest with a look of disgust.

There definitely weren't just Gryffindors here, she surmised. And what was worrisome is that many were definitely not seventh years, and definitely not of age. As a prefect, she was torn between restoring order, and pulling the plug on the party, and loyalty towards her boyfriend and best friend. She was sorely tempted to report them; if only for their own good. She looked over at Harry, and just happened to catch Seamus shoving something that looked like a thin cigarette into Harry's mouth. Her nostrils flared when she recognised the distinct odour of marijuana.

She went over and yanked the joint from Harry's mouth.

"What the hell do you think that you're doing Harry?” she asked angrily.

Ginny who had had been trying to wrestle her way through the crowd, looked at Harry disapprovingly as well. "Seamus are you out of your mind bringing that here? Those are Muggle Drugs." She looked at Harry disappointedly. "How could you Harry?" And she stomped off angrily out of the Common Room.

"Ginny, wait--you don't understand," Harry yelled after her, but swayed and almost fell over. He was on his fourth firewhiskey and because of his small frame, the liquor had affected him more adversely than he realised."

He hadn't really planned on drinking so much, and he definitely hadn't wanted to try the drugs, but Seamus had been quite persistent and Harry's powers of resistance were weakened by this point. All the events of the past few weeks caught up with him, and he only wanted to make the pain, and the frustration go away. He just wanted to have fun and be a normal teenager.

Hermione shoved Harry back onto the couch when he started to sway and his head swam with dizziness. She awarded Ron and Harry with one last disapproving, disgusted look and followed Ginny out the door.

Ron plonked himself down on the couch next to Harry. "D-on't wo--rry mate, th-ey'll get o-over it," he slurred his words, and slung his arm over Harry's shoulders, making the smaller boy almost topple over.

Harry smiled at Ron, and nodded his head. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind, that this wasn't good; not good at all, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

When the music halted abruptly, and Harry looked up to see a tall, white-faced, tight-lipped Snape standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a murderous look on his face, Harry suddenly knew why this wasn't good.

In the back of the mush that was Harry's brain, he sensed that he should be feeling fear. After all, the image of his father standing in the doorway, with his arms folded, his lips pinched and a dangerous glint in his obsidian eyes should have been an indication of how much trouble he was in. But the fog that shrouded Harry's mind made him incapable of discerning any tangible emotion, whether it be fear, or regret.

The images were all swirling around him now. Somewhere in the distance, he was cognizant of McGonagall ordering her errant Gryffindors to bed--that she would deal with them in the morning, and ordering students from the other Houses to return to their dorms, and that she would be informing their Head of Houses of their unacceptable behaviour tomorrow. At the moment, however, Harry was trying very hard to figure out why there were two-no-three--Snapes, all looking tall, dark, menacing, and looking as if they'd like nothing more than to use him as Potions' ingredients.

McCleggan, who was holding a bottle of Firewhiskey, and who, (and the only explanation must have been that he was delirious), went up to Snape and offered him one, tripped over his own clumsy feet, grasped the front of his shirt and vomited on Snape's shiny black boots.

Through his alcoholic haze, the inebriated boy must have realised the foolishness of his actions, because his face suddenly drained of all colour. He pulled himself up on wobbly knees to stare at the extremely pissed-off Potions master.

"You have just earned yourself a month's worth of detention Mcleggan," Snape said through gritted teeth. He waved his wand furiously and vanished the mess from his boots.

Before McCleggan could protest, or rather think about protesting, Snape pinned his dark eyes on his son.

"And you," he said in a low dangerous voice as he leant forward, "are coming with me."

Harry blinked his eyes as the towering images of Snape grew closer, and fisted the collar of his robes, drawing an unsteady Harry to his feet.

Those remaining Gryffindors, who hadn't had the sense to scurry on to bed at their Head of House's bequest, stopped all activity and stared in sympathy at Harry.

Yes, the Headmistress was stern, but they'd take dealing with her temper any day, over Snape's. They were thanking their lucky stars that Snape was not their father.

Severus turned to Minerva. "I will return tomorrow to collect Mr. Potter's belongings."

Minerva nodded. "Of course Severus."

Severus' lips tightened as Harry teetered on his feet. "Say goodbye to your friends Mr. Potter. You won't be seeing them for quite some time."

Harry desperately wished that the images of Snape weren't superimposed on top of each other. One was bad enough.

Severus looked down at his son's pasty complexion, and decided that that was enough chit chat for one night, as he was not inclined to subject his boots to another round of regurgitation.

If it had not been past curfew, and all of the students were now, for the most part, safely tucked away in their beds, they would have seen a tall, dark-haired figure stalking down the halls towards the Slytherin Dungeons, dragging a staggering, drunk-out-of-his-tree Harry Potter.

Severus barked out the password, whipped his wand out of his robes pocket, and the heavy wooden door flung back violently, causing the doorknob to chip off pieces of the stone wall. The door slammed close just as violently when Severus slashed his wand furiously through the air.

He dragged Harry to the sofa, and sat him down forcefully. "Stay there," he growled.

Harry may have been a little short on his faculties, but he knew better than to disobey the order. He sincerely hoped that his father had gone to retrieve some sort of potion to stop his stomach from spinning like the agitator on a Muggle washing machine.

Severus returned several minutes later, carrying a phial of blue potion. He uncorked the phial, grabbed Harry's chin firmly with one hand and with the other, pressed the glass-tipped phial to Harry's lips hard enough to make them tingle. He gagged as the liquid slid down his raw throat. Sitting in a room bathed in smoke, the heavy smell of alcohol, and the pungent fumes of marijuana had had Harry's eyes burning, and watering and his throat feeling like sandpaper.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the potion cleared his vision and settled his topsy-turvy stomach. That relief was short-lived however, when he looked up to a pair of cold, black eyes that sent an icy shiver down his spine.

He swallowed the enormous lump in his throat.

"Go to bed."

Harry stared up at him in confusion. Severus wasn't going to yell at him? Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Although he was still feeling as though he'd had a tonne of bricks dropped on his head, Harry suddenly realised that the deadly calm tone the man had used, spelt anger more so than if the man had gone off on him straight away, ranting and raving. Severus was much more dangerous when he was quiet.

Harry stood up on limbs that quivered, and looked up at his father's pinched expression. Harry gulped. Oh Merlin, the man looked even taller when Harry had to crank his neck back to look up at him, and he was much too close for comfort. All it would take is for Snape to snake his hand out and grab Harry by his scrawny neck.

"Severus-" Harry's voice trembled. "I--I'm sorry.

Severus pointed towards Harry's room, not softening his icy glare in the least. "Go."

Harry took one last glance at Severus' cold expression and hung his head in shame. The walk to his bedroom seemed to take forever and he knew that the empty, cold feeling that gripped his heart, would only intensify once the last of the effects of the alcohol had warn off, and the morning arrived; the magnitude of what he'd done would hit him with the dawning light of day.

---------

Severus stood for several minutes in the same spot, staring at Harry's departing form. When he heard the soft click of Harry's bedroom door closing, his body snapped out of its numbness and he bonelessly sat down on the couch and stared unseeingly as the flames in the fireplace sputtered and died, leaving only embers that glowed, and smouldered; the logs reduced to charred pieces of wood and ash.

Severus ran his fingers through his smooth hair which was coated in a fine film of grease once more, after spending an evening in the labs brewing potions. What had begun as a relaxing evening lost in the fine art of Potion-making, had ended in him feeling hollow and defeated. Where had he gone wrong? He really thought he had gotten through to Harry, but he had failed his son once more.

Maybe if he'd been a part of Harry's life from the beginning, the boy would have learnt to trust him. Maybe he could have imparted some sense of respect for the rules, for his own body and his health. Maybe it was just too late. After all, the boy was a young adult now. Severus realised that he'd not been around during Harry's formative years; there was no basis for trust here. Harry didn't respect his opinion, because he himself had not respected Harry. He knew that Harry cared for him, but how can you erase years of taunting and verbal abuse? Severus knew he had shirked his responsibilities and he couldn't blame Harry for his lack of trust in adults; his lack of trust in Severus. The question was how to make it up to Harry, and save the young man from a bleak future if he continued on the path he was following.

Severus knew that there was a way to get through to Harry, but it was harsh, and it would require revisiting a part of his life that had long been buried and forgotten; a part of his life that he had no desire to remember. It was the only way though, Severus agonised. As hard as it would be to do, both for himself and Harry, Severus knew that it was the only way to get through to his son.

----------

Harry threw an arm over his eyes to block out the harsh sunlight that filled the room. Harry's head throbbed and the pain sliced through right to the sockets of his eyes. He grabbed the pillow from underneath his head and pressed it to his aching head.

As he knew would happen, the events of the last evening washed over him with sickening reality. He'd broken Severus' trust yet again, and he wasn't sure if there was a way to get it back this time. He remembered how Severus had stared at him with dead eyes last night as he had tried to apologise.

Harry slowly removed the pillow from his face, one corner at a time, one eye at a time, and forced his weary body upwards. He clutched at his head in a futile attempt to stop the pounding. He didn't dare ask Severus for a headache potion. The man would probably enjoy seeing him suffer as punishment. Harry groaned. He was going to have to pull some of that famous Gryffindor bravery from the pits of his soul to face Severus. He wished right now that he could just go back to bed and stay there forever, but that would be the coward's way out.

Harry flung one leg out of bed at a time. He sat on the edge of the bed and clenched his eyes shut for a moment to stop the room from spinning. When he reopened them, his heart sunk when he saw his trunk that he'd moved up to Gryffindor Tower only yesterday, back in his room. The meaning was clear.

Harry took a deep breath. He knew that he deserved whatever punishment that Severus would throw at him, and that he would sit quietly and accept any scathing lecture that Severus would deliver without interruption. He had messed up big time, and he would have to face the music like a man.

Once Harry 's head stopped spinning like a merry-go-round, he stumbled his way to the loo. He looked down in disgust at his sweat-bathed pyjamas. Actually, he didn't remember putting on pyjamas last night. Harry's heart leapt slightly when he realised that Severus must have come in when he was out like a light, in his alcohol-induced slumber, and spelt some pyjamas on him. His father couldn't hate him too much, if he had bothered trying to make him more comfortable. Speaking of clothes, Harry had noticed that his clothes from last night were slung over the back of his desk chair, and reeked of smoke and alcohol. Harry had wrinkled his nose at the smell. What the hell had he been thinking last night?

The hot water felt good as Harry let it fall on his upturned face. His eyes were closed and he allowed the warmth to wash away some of the tension from his body. Unfortunately, the water couldn't get rid of the churning that felt like a thousand worms writhing in the pit of his stomach.

Harry dried himself off quickly, and dressed in some clean clothes. He stared at himself in the mirror, and once again studied his new appearance. It had only been a couple of days, and it would probably take a few months, if ever, for him to totally come to terms with his new look, but at least it didn't feel as if a jolt of electricity had shot through his body every time he caught his reflection in a mirror.

Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself for the confrontation with his father. He clutched the door handle so fiercely that his hand ached. He took a deep breath, and yanked opened the door quickly, before he could change his mind. It would have been so easy to stay safely in his room and avoid facing his father's wrath. He looked longingly at his bed, and wished fervently that he could just go back and hide under the covers, and never come back out, but Harry knew what he had to do.

-----

Severus was seated at the kitchen table, drinking cold coffee, perusing the Daily Prophet; the printed words kept blurring into each other. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the dull ache that was beginning to blossom at the base of his skull. He was not sleeping much these days, and he would be forced to take a potion to rectify the problem if it persisted; it would be dangerous to continue brewing and using such volatile ingredients, while less than alert. Above the top of his paper, he could see Harry enter the room, eyes lowered and head hung, looking at his feet, as he dragged himself into the room.

Harry stood uncertainly before the table.

Severus lowered the paper, and studied Harry, as he shifted from foot to foot, nervously.

"Sit."

Harry nodded and sat down silently. He really didn't know what to say, and thought that he should let his father take the lead.

Severus looked at the plate of eggs and toast, "I've kept your breakfast warm."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Thanks," he whispered.

Harry forced himself to eat a few forkfuls of food, but it tasted like sawdust. He'd really rather just get on with the harsh lecture that he knew that Severus was surely going to deliver. Harry felt like he was eating his last meal. After choking down a few more mouthfuls, Harry finally gave up. He placed his utensils on the plate of half-eaten food, and looked at his father expectantly.

Severus stared at Harry silently for a moment and Harry shifted uncomfortably under the hard glare.

Severus dabbed his lips with his napkin and placed it carefully on the table. He rose slowly. "Come into the parlour," he said stiffly. "I believe that you have some explaining to do."

Harry felt cold dread wash over him. Explain? How the hell could he possibly explain what he didn't understand himself.

Severus motioned for Harry to take a seat on the couch, but remained standing. It was going to be one of those talks, was it? More like Severus would talk and Harry would listen.

Harry felt a pang of guilt. The man had dark circles under his eyes and his face looked strained.

Severus looked at his young son, and if the situation hadn't been so serious, he would have smiled. The boy looked at him, wide-eyed with fear and uncertainty. Like a small child who knew that he had done something wrong, and was overwhelmed with guilt and trepidation at what fate awaited him. Sometimes it was difficult to believe that this vulnerable, frail-looking boy was actually seventeen and on the thresh of manhood. Part of him wanted to shake some sense into the boy, and the other part of him wanted to protect him and shield him from all the pain that life could throw at him.

Why did he ever think that he could actually ever be a parent? He didn't have a clue. Maybe he was just too old for this, and Harry had been taking care of himself for a long time without Severus' help, and had done just fine, hadn't he? He had talked himself into believing that Harry, despite his age, needed his guidance, but now, he wasn't so certain.

Severus forced his resolve. "Care to explain your behaviour last night?"

"I'm sorry--I don't know--I mean- I don't know what I was thinking," Harry said, examining his fingernails and trying to avoid eye contact with his father.

"It's obvious that you weren't thinking," Severus said coldly. "It's obvious that as usual, you acted recklessly, without thinking of the consequences."

Harry looked up at that and bit his lip to keep from retorting that that wasn't true. But he knew it was, didn't he? He'd known that it was a mistake having alcohol at the party. He could have stood up to Ron and Seamus and stopped it, but he didn't. He was just as guilty as they were.

"I'm sorry," he said feebly.

"Your apologies mean nothing."

Harry's stomach dropped into his feet. The man looked so unyielding, so cold...so disapproving.

"I must admit Harry, that I'm extremely disappointed in you."

Nothing that Severus could have said to Harry would have made him feel as badly as that one little word. Severus was disappointed in him. That stung.

Severus continued on with his lecture, ignoring how Harry's face fell at his words. He was determined, however, not to be soft. Authority figures being too soft on Harry is what created Harry's disregard for the rules in the first place. Severus knew that he was just as much to blame for Harry's lack of consistency in growing up without proper guidance.

"You do understand that this is not just a domestic situation, and that I can't just deal with it privately. You have not only gone against my wishes, you have broken some serious school rules as well."

Harry nodded silently.

"Alcohol and Drugs on school premises are strictly forbidden." He gave Harry a hard look. "You could be expelled for this."

Harry's stomach clenched.

"As I'm sure you realise, your celebrity status-" Severus said in a voice that reminded Harry of times past, "-will most likely prevent you from such a fate, however-" He put up a finger, "as this is a serious offence, you will not get off with only a slap on the wrist this time.”

"There is a reason why even students who are of age are subject to the same guidelines as those who are under-age Harry. While off Hogwarts property, you are of course permitted to consume alcoholic beverages within reason." He looked at Harry pointedly at this. "Of age Hogwarts students are still expected to act with a certain amount of dignity and decorum, as any ill behaviour on their part reflects poorly on Hogwarts' reputation. The same rules would apply, were you to engage in a public brawl, outside of Hogwarts' grounds. Not only would you be breaking the law, but you would be smearing the good name of an distinguished Wizarding institution. There are very specific guidelines for students comportment, off and on Hogwarts' property."

Harry sighed inwardly. He knew that he deserved whatever admonishment he would receive, but he felt as though he were two inches high. How could his judgement have been so impaired yesterday?

"You must have realised, Harry, that having an unsupervised party, with drugs and alcohol present could have posed a potential problem?"

"I swear, I had no idea that there would be drugs there," Harry said fiercely.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry. "But you did know that there would be alcohol."

Harry remained silent.

"I asked you a question." Severus raised his voice, making Harry flinch.

"Yes sir," he said quietly.

He could see how Severus' eyes widened at this. Obviously the man was hoping that Harry hadn't known in advance that there was going to be alcohol, perhaps making him a little less culpable than the others, but Harry had already disappointed the man; he wasn't going to exacerbate the problem by lying to his face.

"Had you given any thought to the fact that there would be underage students present," Severus asked coldly. "Or did you not care?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I swear Severus. It was only supposed to be seventh years. I'm not sure really how these other students found out about it." He said, perplexed.

"Well, whether you realised or not the potential for disaster, you acted very irresponsibly. Many of the younger students look up to you as a role model. They emulate your behaviour. Have you thought of that, Harry?"

Harry's face heat up in shame. He hadn't given a thought as to how his actions might have affected the younger students who looked up to him.

"About the drugs--"

"I swear that I didn't have anything to do with them."

"Yet, you partook of them, nevertheless."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. How did Severus know that?

Severus gave Harry a knowing look. "I grew up as a Muggle Harry. I lived in a Muggle neighbourhood. I'm not naive to the signs, of what Muggles call, being stoned."

"I only had a couple of puffs, I swear," Harry said quickly.

"I see." Severus nodded.

Severus sat down on the coffee table, and leant in slightly towards Harry.

"Possession and consumption of Muggle drugs are illegal in both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds. Apart from the legal ramifications of possessing such a substance, there are health risks and moral issues."

"I know."

"You know, yet you proceeded despite that."

Harry grew warmer.

"I think that lecturing you is futile Harry. I think that something more drastic is called for."

Harry felt his skin prickle with fear. What the hell did the man plan on doing to him?

"There is a couple of hours till lunch is served in the Great Hall. I have some brewing to do."

Harry blinked in confusion.

"You may go to your room till then, and begin your essay on why your behaviour last night, put yourself and others at risk. I will give you more specific guidelines later, but you should have enough time to start the outline."

Harry nodded, and rose wearily from his seat.

"And Harry-" Harry turned around. "We will discuss the rest of your punishment later."

Harry's shoulders sagged. He should have known that he wouldn't get off that easy.

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

----------

Harry chewed on the end of his quill and looked at the almost empty parchment before him. It's not like he didn't know what he had done was wrong. It's not as if he didn't understand how foolish he'd been in thinking that he could have controlled this party when alcohol and drugs were part of the mix. He just was not very eloquent with words. That was Hermione's forte.

Harry sighed. How long did Severus say that this had to be? Well he hadn’t really. But he was sure that the man would specify at least several feet.

Harry tugged at his hair, and again was amazed at the new, silky texture.

He had to put a lot of thought into this. He had to show Severus that he understood his mistakes, and was willing to admit to them. As much as Harry wanted to put his guilt on someone else's shoulders, he knew that it was time to grow up. Severus was right. There was no excuse for his behaviour. He had known that he was going against Severus' wishes, and he'd known that he was breaking a serious school rule. He'd known the possible consequences and that he could have been expelled for his lapse in judgement. He had gone ahead and broken the rules, knowing that his fame would save him from serious consequences. He was guilty of what Severus had accused him of for the past six years.

He would do a good job on this essay, and prove to Severus that he understood his actions and vowed to prove to Severus that he could be trusted again.

By the time that a quiet knock on the door interrupted his concentration, Harry had filled three quarters of a parchment, and he was quite pleased with the content. He hoped that Severus would realise that he had put a lot of thought into this.

"Harry."

Severus opened the door and slipped quietly inside.

Harry looked up and noticed with some relief that the hard look that Severus had worn before, had softened slightly.

Severus held out his hand towards the parchment. "May I see?"

Harry nodded, and handed the parchment to his father hesitantly. He wasn't so sure any longer that it was up to Severus' standards.

Severus gave no indication from his blank expression what he thought of Harry's essay so far, as his eyes scanned the parchment.

He placed the parchment back down on the desk before Harry. "You seemed to have given this a lot of thought."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. It was not often that Severus handed out praise, and when he did, you had to read between the lines to know that that was what he was doing. He was not an overly verbose man, nor did he lavish praise at the drop of a hat. Criticism, well...that was another matter.

"Uh, thanks. I-" Harry twisted the fabric of his shirt nervously. "-I just wanted you to know that I understand that what I did was wrong, and that I'm sorry that I've disappointed you."

Severus went to sit on Harry's bed. He looked at him intently for several minutes, making Harry squirm with the scrutiny.

"Despite my past treatment of you, and despite my cruel and selfish intent to humiliate and crush your spirit-" He took a deep breath. It wasn't easy to say all this to his son. It wasn't easy to show any weakness to Harry, but he wanted him to know that he wished he could change the past, and he was sorry that he hadn't realised it sooner.

"Because I saw only James Potter in you, and then afterwards because it was all too easy to continue fooling myself that you were really Potter's double-" He said with a pained expression on his face. "You have to believe that I take no pleasure now in having to reprimand you or doling out punishment. That may not have been true in the past, and for that I apologise Harry," he said with regret in his eyes, "but you're my son, and I know that you're still young, and I don't have any experience in being a father. I didn't have the best example."

"I think that you're doing a good job Severus," Harry denied.

Severus smirked. "You may not think so after I tell you what your punishment is."

Harry sighed. Why did he get the feeling that he wasn't going to like this one bit?

Severus stood up. "Come, let's go eat."

"What? Aren't you going to tell me what my punishment is?"

Severus' lips quirked. "Anxious, are we?"

Harry smiled at him. "No, not exactly. But, better to get it over with."

"Very well, if you insist," Severus said, sitting down again on Harry's bed.

Harry's stomach tightened in anxiety again.

"I will not give you a minimum length for your essay, but I expect it to be finished by the start of Christmas holidays. I will leave it in your hands, how long you feel it needs to be. But I expect you to not only list, as I've said before, how you feel your actions have put yourself and others at risk, what other serious ramifications could have resulted from your poor judgement and how you feel you might affect your younger peers in a more positive way. Also, you must include how alcohol and drug abuse can affect your life in a negative way. You may use whatever resources you wish."

Harry nodded. "Alright."

Severus turned his attention to Harry's trunk. "You will return to Gryffindor Tower after the holidays. Until then, you will reside in my quarters."

"What about Christmas?" Harry asked worriedly.

"We will celebrate Christmas as planned at Spinners' End."

Harry sighed in relief. He was really looking forward to this Christmas, and he didn't want anything to spoil it.

"Until then, however, you are not permitted to visit the Tower, nor see your friends. You will return each evening after detention to our quarters."

Harry's head snapped up. "Detention? But, you're already punishing me," he said resentfully. "It's not fair that I'm being punished twice."

"Your friends have received detention with Minerva for two weeks. Since they are being punished for breaking school rules, of which you have participated in as well, you will suffer the same consequences as they are. "

"Yeah, but-"

"And-" Severus gave Harry a stern glare to stop him from interrupting again, "since I'm quite certain that your friend's parents have also been informed of their children's actions, that your friends will not get off lightly either."

I guess he has a point, Harry thought. He could only imagine what Mrs. Weasley's reaction would be, when she was informed that her youngest son partook of drugs and alcohol at a wild party in Gryffindor Tower. Hmm....Harry started to think that he was glad that he didn't have to face Mrs. Weasley's wrath. It was a toss up as to who was stricter--Snape or Mrs. Weasley. She may not be tall, but Mrs. Weasley's temper was a force to be reckoned with; she was a furious ball of red-haired fire when she got a bee in her bonnet. He was beginning to feel sorry for Ron!

"Yeah, I guess not," Harry agreed reluctantly.

Suddenly, the grumble of Harry's stomach lightened the serious mood.

"Come," Severus said with a smile as he gently urged Harry up out of the chair by his shoulders. "Wouldn't want anyone to think that I was starving you."

Harry smiled back. "Yeah, I'm starving." Yeah, digging down deep and facing your inner demons took a lot out of you.

-------------

Severus looked back inquiringly as Harry hesitated before the doorway to the Great Hall.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is something the matter Harry?"

Harry's face went red. "Well, it's just you know-, uh-“ he stammered, everyone is already staring and whispering because of my appearance, and now they're probably all wondering if-" he looked up at Severus. "Uh-never mind," he said embarrassedly.

Severus smirked. "They're probably wondering if I've used you for Potions ingredients, is that it?"

"Uh-yeah, something like that." Harry looked at him sheepishly.

Severus put an arm around his shoulder. "Yes, Eye of Harry is quite a rare Potion ingredient."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Severus."

As expected, all eyes turned to Severus and Harry when they walked into the Great Hall, but Harry gained surprising strength from Severus' arm around his shoulders. It was rather odd actually, because Harry was sure that their relationship would take a step backwards since Severus seemed to be so angry with him. He had been consumed with anxiety that Severus would be so disappointed in him that it would break the fragile thread that was their relationship. Strangely enough, it seemed to have had the opposite effect.

Severus walked with Harry to the Gryffindor Table, and looked at him seriously. "Wait for me here after lunch terminates. I wish for you to accompany me somewhere. There is something I wish for you to see."

Harry looked at him questioningly.

"After dinner," Severus said firmly.

Harry nodded, and bit his lip as he watched his father walk towards the staff table in a flurry of black robes.

He turned around and saw that everyone at the Gryffindor table was staring at him. Ron, Seamus and McCleggan, among others, looked a little green around the edges. He quickly took a seat, his face flaming, and noticed that Hermone and Ginny were sitting at the opposite end of the table. When he tried to catch Ginny's eye, she looked at him coldly, and began speaking with Hermione again.

Ron's mouth was set in an angry scowl.

"I guess they're still angry with us, aren't they?" Harry asked sadly, as he reached for a bread roll. He hoped that lunch would be served soon, when his stomach rumbled loudly again.

"I think that we're the ones that should be mad, if you ask me," Ron said, his freckled face flushing with anger.

Harry's brow crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, do you think it's a coincidence that Snape and McGonagall just happened to show up?" he asked indignantly

Harry's mouth hung open. Oh.

He glanced over at Ginny and Hermione, disappointment washing over him. He wasn't sure though, whether the pang of disappointment was aimed at Ginny and Hermione, or himself.

Before Harry could examine his feelings on the matter, however, a sudden flurry of owls flocked through the Great Hall, each carrying bright red envelopes. As Harry ducked Ron's owl, Errol crashed into a tureen of soup, flapping his wings and spraying soup everywhere; a red envelope fell from its beak, before he flew off in erratic movement back out of the Great Hall.

Ron's jaw dropped in horror, as he realised too late what the red envelope contained. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and a whisp of smoke, before the flaps of the envelope morphed into a large pair of ruby red lips.

Harry jumped when the lips began to screech loudly in Mrs. Weasley's familar voice.

"Ronald Weasly! How dare you bring shame on this family by carousing around like a drunken Wizard! Just imagine my embarrassment when I get an Owl from Headmistress McGonagall saying my son had a wild party in the dorms and smuggled in alcohol and Muggle Drugs!" If it was possible, her voice rose even higher.

Ron put his hands over his face.

"And just wait Mister, till you come home for the holidays! You can say goodbye to your freedom young man! I have a list of chores to keep you busy, and-"

Ron sunk further into his seat as the voice shrilled on and on, promising dire consequences and a list of chores for Ron to complete, long enough to last him for the duration of the Christmas hols.

Harry's head was actually throbbing from the numerous howlers, spouting screeching messages of admonishment to their embarrassed recipients. He looked up and happened to catch Severus smirking at him.

Hermione showed no sympathy for Ron, and pursed her lips in disapproval at him.

Once the howler had stopped shrieking, it burst into flames and vanished into thin hair and Ron looked up at Harry, his freckles blending into his face.

"How about we get out of here?" he asked while trying to ignore the jeers and taunts floating over from the Slytherin table.

Now it was Harry's turn for his face to heat up in embarrassment. "Uh, I can't Ron."

"Why not? We can just sneak out and hide up in the Tower for awhile."

"Uh, well, I'm kind of," Aw damn. He didn't want to say it. "I'm grounded." There he said it. How embarrassing.

"Oh right. Of course. I mean, Snape looked real shirty last night. He must have really laid into you."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he wasn't pleased," Harry admitted quietly. At least Snape had reamed him in private. Harry thanked Merlin that Snape was not inclined to public displays. And he had thought that his friends had got off easy! He was beginning to think that he was the lucky one. That was until he remembered the serious look on Severus' face, when he said that he was bringing Harry somewhere, and had something to show him later.

Thankfully, as the meal progressed, the attention died down and Ron and Harry ate their meal in silence.

"So, how long you grounded for?" Ron finally asked.

Harry made a face. "Until Christmas. And I've got to serve whatever detention McGonagall assigns as well."

"Yeah well, at least you get to serve your sentence before the Christmas hols mate," Ron said unsympathetically. "You heard my mum. She's gonna make my life a living hell," he groaned as he stabbed at a potato.

"Yeah, tough break," Harry agreed.

At the end of the meal, he watched as Ron went off with Seamus, looking dejected. He felt a wave of sympathy for his friend.

Harry stood by the empty table, nervously picking at his fingernails, watching the throngs of students exit the Great Hall in droves, and looked up at the staff table, at Severus speaking with McGonagall.

Harry felt his stomach clench as he saw Severus nod to her, turn around and come his way, robes flowing behind him.

Severus came to stand in front of Harry, and looked down at his son with concern in his eyes. If Harry but knew it, Severus' stomach roiled with anxiety also. He was about to relive a part of his life that had been dead and buried long ago--and he had no desire to summon those ghosts from the past...to the present.

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.

Ginny felt prickling on the back of her neck. Her head snapped around and her stomach plunged when she saw Harry standing in the doorway, staring at her.

"Hi Ginny," Harry whispered.

Ginny looked at Harry, wide-eyed. "Hi Harry."

"I was wondering-" Harry started nervously, fiddling with the straps on his book bag, "-if we could.. uh, talk."

Ginny remained quiet for a moment, and Harry thought,with a twinge of disappointment, that she was going to refuse.

Finally...she nodded.

Harry motioned for them to sit down on the couch.

Oh Merlin, she smelled so sweet, and he wanted to reach out and touch her silky hair--but of course... he couldn't. It was simply torture.

Harry wasn't quite sure how to bring up the subject that was on both of their minds.

"Ron thinks that you and Hermione ratted us out to my father and McGonagall," he finally blurted out.

Ginny's face flushed.

"Don't blame Ginny, Harry. I'm the one that convinced her that we should inform McGonagall."

Harry and Ginny both rose from their seats; Hermione was standing in the doorway, regret clouding her expression.

"You were the one?" Harry asked, disappointed in Hermione, but relieved that it wasn't Ginny's idea to tell.

Hermione nodded slowly. "I'm sorry Harry," she said miserably.

Harrry looked up at her, disappointment and hurt reflected in his eyes. "But why?"

"Because she's a back-stabbing traitor, that's why," Ron said with an angry scowl, as he came up behind Hermione, making her jump out the of way.

Hermione looked crestfallen. "Ron, that's not true!"

"Oh really?" he asked sarcastically, crossing his arms and glaring down at her. "What the hell would you call it?" he bit back, his voice rising angrily.

Hermione looked at Harry apologetically. "I'm sorry Harry, but I was only trying to protect you and Ron--I was worried about you, and-"

"Like hell you were," Ron growled. "You were doing what you do best--sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Hermione's face crumpled. "I'm a Prefect, and so are you for that matter."

"Oh, and you were just fulfilling your duties," Ron sneered. "Even if it meant betraying your best friend and your boyfriend," Ron said in disgust.

Hermione's face flushed in anger. "Maybe it's about time that you took your duties a little more seriously, Ronald."

Ron scoffed. "Well, you know what Hermione? McGonagall can take her damned Prefect badge and shove it up her-"

"Ron!" Ginny said, shocked. "Hermione's right you know; there weren't only seventh years here-"

"I don't care who the hell was here. She-" He pointed angrily at Hermione, "-ran to McGonagall and Snape, and ratted on us. I don't care what her reasons are. And if you're my bloody sister, how can you be siding with her?"

"You know what Ron? I'm not going waste my time, trying to explain this to you. When you get your head out of your arse, and start acting your age, you'll realise that I was really left with no choice. I'm a Prefect, and I'm responsible for the younger students and I take that seriously. If you don't or, can't accept that, then that's your problem, not mine."

Hermione looked at Harry apologetically. "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble with McGonagall and your father Harry--I really am, but you didn't look well, and I was worried about you, not to mention some of the younger students were dangerously inebriated. I really didn't mean-" She stopped, swiping at a few stray tears that rolled down her cheeks.

"Anyway, I'm really sorry," she croaked, before running out the door.

"Ron, why don't you go after her, and stop being so damned bull-headed," Ginny said through gritted teeth.

"No, I won't," Ron said, his face set in a stubborn scowl. "You're not the one who got a Howler from Mum, in front of everyone. You're not the one who's probably going to spend the Christmas holidays, de-gnoming the garden, and scrubbing the floors."

"Yeah, well," Ginny said, with her hands on her hips, "I'm also not the one who had a wild party, got pissed and got high on Muggle Drugs," she countered angrily.

Harry's face flushed. Put like that, it really put into perspective how foolish he'd been.

"Oh yeah that's right," Ron sneered contemptuously, "You're the good child...who never gets into trouble."

"Oh, go shove it, Ron."

"You know, I've had enough of this," Ron said angrily, turning on his heel to leave. He stopped abruptly. "Oh Harry, your father's looking for you, and he looks pissed."

Oh crap, Harry thought.

Harry was sure that his face was the colour of the Gryffindor reds that adorned the room.

Harry looked at Ginny. "Uh-I'm not supposed to be here," he admitted to Ginny in a small voice. "I'd better go."

Ginny looked at him shyly. "Okay...I'll see you at dinner?"

Harry's heart leapt. It seemed that Ginny wasn't angry at him any longer.

"I'll be down in a minute, Ron."

Ron awarded his sister with a hateful glare, nodded at Harry, and stomped off.

Harry looked at Ginny anxiously. "I was just wondering if you're--uh, you know, still angry with me?" Harry asked in a shaky voice.

Ginny looked at him with soft eyes. "Harry, I never really was angry at you. Well...maybe a little that you allowed yourself to lose control like that, but-" She smiled. "-you know that I could never stay angry at you for long."

She came over, and awkwardly took his hands in hers.

Harry felt a tingle of excitement spread through his body. When Ginny leaned up towards him on her tippy-toes, and brushed her soft lips against his, he felt like fireworks exploded.

"You'd better go Harry," she whispered softly in his ear.

Harry's stomach clenched. "Yeah, Severus is going to kill me for being here."

"How much trouble did you get in?" Ginny asked worriedly. Even though she had not technically opened her mouth to McGonagall, she'd still felt tremendously guilty for having allowed Hermione to talk her into accompanying her to advise McGonagall of the pandemonium taking place in the Gryffindor Common Room. And when she saw Snape's expression after being informed that his son was involved in a wild party, and was presently drunk and high on Muggle drugs...well, Ginny had begun to regret allowing Hermione to convince her that it was in Harry and Ron's best interest to inform the professors. Snape had looked positively livid, and she was worried about his temper with Harry, especially considering their past history.

He grimaced. "Loads! You know...the usual lecture about how irresponsible I was... and the dangers of drinking." He rolled his eyes.

"He's right young man," Ginny wagged a finger playfully at him.

"Yeah, I know, and trust me...I won't be doing that again. I was as sick as a dog the next day," Harry said sheepishly.

"Yeah well, don't tell Ron," Ginny lowered her voice, "or he'll get all smug, but I had a bottle of firewhiskey too. And to be honest with you, it tasted horrible."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, well it's an acquired taste."

"I don't think that I'll be trying that again anytime soon," she said with a grimace.

Harry smiled down at her, and boldly put his arm around her shoulders. He sighed in relief, when she didn't recoil, and actually leaned closer into him; resting her head on his shoulder.

"C'mon let's go, before my father flays me alive. I was supposed to meet him in our quarters before dinner, and I'm not really allowed up here."

"Oh," she said in understanding. "So, you're grounded then?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah, till Christmas."

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry," she said, regretfully.

"It's not your fault Ginny."

Ginny's expression clouded over. "If you mean that it's Hermione's fault-"

"No, that's not what I meant," Harry explained quickly. "I take full responsibility for my actions. I shouldn't have been so irresponsible. And it's my own fault that I got in trouble with my father... that's all I meant."

"I hope that you can forgive Hermione, Harry. She really was in a bad position. I mean, think about it. You're a Prefect, and your job is to help your fellow students make sure that they are safe and happy, and it is your responsibility to report any rules being broken, and you walk into a wild party, where there are not only seventh years, but third to fifth year students as well--getting drunk and high on Muggle drugs. What would you do?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't honestly know." He was having a hard time letting go of his disappointment, but he wasn't as furious as Ron was. He did understand Hermione's predicament though.

"Maybe you could talk to Ron?" Ginny asked hopefully, as they walked down the corridors, Harry's arms still possessively around Ginny's slender shoulders.

Harry turned his head slightly and cocked an eyebrow at her. "You actually think that Ron's going to listen to me?"

Ginny sighed. "No, I suppose not. He never was one to listen to reason. I mean, if anything really bad had happened to you, or to one of the younger students, he would have been in even more trouble, and felt bloody awful about it afterwards."

"Well, I think that Ron just needs some time to come to that conclusion on his own." Harry said wisely. "Those two are always fighting."

"Yeah, but this is a little more serious, isn't it? I mean- Ron's taking this as though Hermione's betrayed him. If you had seen her face Harry, when she saw you and Ron drinking, and the little kids falling over each other drunk...and the chaos, what with the loud music, drinking--the drugs..." her voice trailed off.

"It was all really out of control, and-"

Ginny stopped suddenly. "She was really scared Harry. She was scared that someone was going to get hurt, and she was scared that it was getting out of hand. You know Hermione, Harry...she doesn't like when things are out of control. Her sense of order and responsibility wouldn't allow her conscience to ignore the danger," she said earnestly.

Harry bit his lip. "I know Ginny, but as you pointed out, Ron is really stubborn." He sighed. "I'll try talking to him, but I'm not making any promises."

Ginny huffed. "Yeah, it's just like my idiot brother to find someone really good for him, only for him to screw it up because of his stupid pride."

"Yeah, he can be really-"

Harry stopped suddenly at the bottom of the winding staircase, and his stomach churned at the sight of Severus standing at the bottom, his lips in a thin line. He pinned Harry with his cold dark eyes.

Ginny squeezed Harry's arm lightly when he drew back instinctively as Severus stalked over to them.

He narrowed his eyes at Harry, and turned to address Ginny. "If you'll excuse us, Miss Weasley, I'd like to have a word with my son."

Ginny looked worriedly at Harry.

"I'll see you at dinner Ginny," Harry said as he nodded.

Harry noticed that a few students, mainly Slytherins, who had noticed how angry their Head of House was, and about to berate their most hated fellow student, had gathered around to watch the show.

Severus turned around and fixed them with a fearsome look. "Be off, the lot of you, or you'll be scrubbing cauldrons till curfew."

They scowled, but knew better than to argue with the prickly man.

When he was sure that they would not be overheard, Severus turned his attention to Harry. He folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes.

"Care to explain what you were doing in Gryffindor Tower, when you were strictly prohibited to do so?" he demanded coldly.

Harry twisted his fingers around the strap of his book bag which was beginning to get very heavy. He had planned on ditching it before he went to dinner, but had never got a chance before he went to speak with Ginny.

"I'm sorry, but I really needed to talk to Ginny," Harry said apologetically.

"You could have spoken with her at dinner, which is the only time that you are allowed to have contact with your friends."

"I needed to speak with her privately. We had a bit of an argument and-"

"Your love life is not my concern," he sneered.

Harry scowled at him.

"And unless, you'd like to eat all your meals in our quarters, I suggest that you adhere to the restrictions I have placed on you from now on," he said sternly.

"Fine," Harry snapped.

"I really suggest you watch your tone, Harry." Severus said in a dangerous voice.

"Sorry, but I really did need to talk to Ginny about something privately. I promise, it won't happen again."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well, Harry. Let's go eat."

Despite his severe look, Severus put his hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Wait for me after dinner, and we'll walk down to our quarters together."

Harry nodded.

He sat down next to Ginny in the Great Hall, and Ron scowled. Harry noticed that Hermione was missing.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry whispered to Ginny.

Ginny's eyes crinkled in concern. "Crying up in her dorm, and I can't get her to come down."

"I don't know what to do," Ginny said anxiously.

"I'll try to talk to Ron, but I don't know if I'll be able to get to talk to him alone."

The meal passed in relative silence, as Ron refused to speak with Ginny, and Harry felt as though he was in the middle of world war three, and was sitting there with his little white flag, waving it around.

Ginny leant over to Harry, just as pudding was being served. "Listen, I'm going to check up on Hermione. Why don't you-" she nodded in Ron's direction, "-try to knock some sense into my stubborn brother's hard head?"

Harry nodded. "I'll try…"

"Yeah, just do your best then," she sighed as she rose from her seat. "I'll see you later, uh-oh..." Her face crumpled in disappointment. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry realised suddenly too, that between his detention that evening, and his restrictions, that he and Ginny would not be able to spend much time together in the next few weeks.

Not really wanting to let her go, Harry pulled Ginny down by her arm, almost making her fall into his lap. Harry's face flushed, but he pulled her closer and kissed her soundly.

Ron glared at him, but Seamus and Neville smirked.

"Bye Harry," Ginny said breathlessly. She grabbed his collar, pulled him forward--and kissed him again.

Harry was barely aware of the other boys at the table cheering them on, as he watched Ginny smile mischievously at him and saunter off. All he could think of was the feel of her lips on his, and the curve of her hips, her long, shapely legs, and the way her skirt hugged her-

"Harry," a deep voice invaded his lustful thoughts.

Harry felt as though his face was on fire when he looked up into his father's smirking face.

"Are you ready?" Severus inquired smoothly, but the amusement was apparent in his voice.

"Yeah." He said a quick goodbye to Ron, who scowled in return. Yeah, Ron was really going to listen to him...right.

"So, should I be expecting some red-headed grandchildren soon?" Severus drawled.

Harry's jaw dropped, and he gaped at his father.

"Wh-what?" Harry managed to spit out.

"Well, the way you and Miss Weasley were melted into each other."

"You don't have to worry about that anytime soon," Harry said, wanting the floor to open up, and swallow him whole.

"I'm relieved to hear that. I'm just getting used to fatherhood. I don't think that I'm ready to be a grandfather yet."

"Can we drop this subject...please." The last thing that Harry wanted to discuss with his father, was his sex life, even though he and Ginny hadn't gotten that far yet. Mind you, it was getting harder and harder to resist...

"Very well, but I don't suppose I have to remind you of the wisdom of exercising caution."

'No Severus," Harry mumbled.

Harry flopped down on the couch, the instant that they arrived in their quarters, but not before he plopped his bag on the floor. He closed his eyes for a moment, and felt the weariness course through his body.

Normally, his routine was, after finishing his dinner, hurrying through his assignments before he had detention each evening. Although it was McGonagall who had originally assigned the detentions, they were alternately supervised by Snape, McGonagall herself, and sometimes Professor Sprout. Of course, Snape's detentions were the worse, having to dice up all sorts of squirmy ingredients for potions, and scrub cauldrons, but McGonagall's were fast becoming a second runner up--having to dust and polish all the trophies in the display cabinets on the third floor, scrubbing down the Prefect's and Head Boy's lavatories, but the worst one yet, was having to set up a table in the main hall, and hand out colourful, moving pamphlets, explaining the school's rules and policies on drinking and drugs, and the consequences of violating such rules.

Harry and the other students who were involved in the party, were the target of many a sneer and taunt, as they were held up as a example of the dangers of partaking in alcohol and Muggle drugs, and it was as embarrassing as hell.

"Harry."

Harry, who had an arm draped over his eyes, to block out the harsh light, moved his arm slightly, to see Severus standing over him.

"Don't you think that you should start on your assignments before your detention?" he suggested.

"Yeah," Harry said grudgingly as he pulled his weary body up.

Both Harry and Snape set themselves up at the kitchen table. Harry to do his homework, and Severus so that he could grade papers. It was his turn to supervise detention this evening, and he wanted to finish the grading before, so that he wouldn't be up too late.

As had become the routine, Harry grabbed a shortbread biscuit off the plate that Severus had placed in the middle of the table, and sipped at his tea.

He stopped for a moment, and studied Severus as he furiously scribbled in red on a piece of parchment. Harry couldn't help but think of how comfortable he and Severus had become with each other. It felt good to sit there and do his homework, while Severus graded his papers. They always had tea and biscuits, and just enjoyed each other's presence, even if they both remained quiet--each concentrating on their work.

If anyone had told Harry a few months ago, that he would be enjoying Severus Snape's company, if would have laughed in their face.

"Severus, I was just wondering...uh, about, well...if there will still be a Quidditch game this weekend."

Severus lifted his gaze from the parchment, and stilled his quill. He narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"You surely don't expect to be allowed to play Quidditch, after your appalling behavior?"

Harry felt a flash of irritation. "I wasn't asking for me."

He cocked an eyebrow. "I see."

"Well, you know Ron was wondering..."

"Well, Mr. Weasley will have to ask Minerva-- it's not my decision. However, Minerva is well aware of my views on the matter."

Harry tried to push aside his annoyance. He had guessed, after all, that he probably wouldn't have been allowed to play Quiddtich, but to hear Severus sound so smug about it, rather irked him.

Harry changed the subject, not wanting to get into an argument.

"Uh, I was just wondering about Christmas--are we still going to Spinner's End?" Harry asked, nibbling on a biscuit.

Severus leant his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. "As a matter of fact, I was wondering if you'd like to go see the house this weekend."

Harry's face lit up. "Sure."

"Dont' forget Harry, the place is rather in a deteriorated state."

"Yeah, I remember, but it'll be fun to fix it up."

Severus smirked at him. "I don't know if fun is exactly the word I'd use. Don't forget the house is in a Muggle neighbourhood, so magic must be kept to a minimum, especially if we are working on the outside of the house. It might be rather tedious work."

"That's okay, it's not like I'm not used to hard work."

Harry blushed under Severus' intense look.

"Uh-I mean, I'm used to doing things the Muggle way," he explained quickly.

Severus stared at him, over his teacup for a moment, then nodded. "I believe that we are still due to have a little discussion about your relatives."

Harry stared down at his parchment.

"Another time Harry," Severus said soothingly.

Harry looked up gratefully. He nodded.

"So, we can leave Friday night after your detention, or early Saturday morning if you prefer."

"Either is fine by me," Harry said agreeably.

He looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Well... perhaps Saturday morning is best after all, since I've not set up sleeping arrangements yet. The rooms are rather dusty. I could perhaps engage the use of a House Elf."

Harry's eyes widened. Hermione would not like that at all.

"But again, as we're in a Muggle neighbourhood, I'd really prefer to avoid that. I have some rather curious neighbours, who seem to feel it their duty to pop in at the most inopportune moments."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I could just imagine their expressions, if a House Elf dressed in a tea cosy, answered the door."

One side of Snape's lips quirked. "Yes, it could rather pose a problem."

"That's all right. I'm looking forward to fixing the place up the Muggle way anyway. I can even paint," Harry said excitedly.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Gryffindors."

Harry smiled. "Yeah well...I think that we balance each other out. You know...my Gryffindor recklessness, your Slytherin cunning."

Severus rolled his eyes. He pointed to Harry's unfinished schoolwork. "Finish your homework Harry," Severus said firmly. "We don't have much time before we have to leave. We'll discuss the details later."

Harry sighed. He looked down at his homework. He really wasn't in the mood to write this Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow. If he was staying in the tower, he would have waited until midnight as usual, and finished it off at about three o'clock in the morning, as usual. Of course, Severus would never tolerate that.

After another hour of quiet concentration, Harry was just putting the final touches to his essay when Severus announced that it was time to go.

Harry groaned when he saw the sight that awaited him and his friends.

Severus swept past Harry in a sweep of flowing black robes, motioning for Harry to take a seat, and went to stand in front of his desk, crossing his arms against his chest, fixing his cold black eyes sternly on his errant students.

"As you can see, you have instructions on the board, and your ingredients before you."

Harry sat beside Ron and they exchanged mortified looks at the sight that awaited them. Spread out before them were an assortment of creepy, slimy ingredients for them to chop.

"You will work in silence," he instructed, giving a stern glare to Harry and Ron, who had already started whispering about the Hermione situation, as Harry had put it.

Harry clamped his mouth in frustration. He didn't know how he was going to be able to talk to Ron alone about this. Unless of course, he followed him into the loo, which wasn't exactly the best circumstances to have a serious conversation.

--------

Harry woke up Saturday morning, a flutter of excitement in his stomach.

Harry wasn't quite so sure why he was so excited to visit Spinner's End. After all, the way that Severus had described it, it sounded rather run-down and dreary, but the image in his mind of having a real home, other than Hogwarts with his new father, was so appealing.

It seemed as though, his life was finally taking a turn for the better. He finally had the one thing in his life, that he'd always wanted--a family and a home.

"So, Severus, how are we getting there?"

Severus felt an unfamiliar feeling wash over him. Harry seemed to be so excited, and he was bringing his son home for the first time. He did wish that he had something better to offer Harry, than a broken-down, dilapidated shack. On the other hand...this was a chance to work together, and as Harry would have some input on how the house was decorated, it wouldn't simply be his home, it would be their home.

"Well, we can't Floo there, since, first of all, the house hasn't been cleared by the International Floo Authority because the house is in a Muggle area, and even if it were, the fireplace has not been in use since last summer, and the flue needs to be cleared out."

Harry looked at him in confusion. "So, how are we going to get there then? Portkey?"

"That is perhaps the best idea. Although I suppose that we could Apparate to a secure location and then walk to Spinners End from there," he said thoughtfully.

Harry looked down. "I actually never had a chance to get my license. I mean... I left to go look for Horcruxes, right after I turned seventeen."

Severus looked surprised. "Well, we'll have to rectify that."

Harry nodded eagerly. "Yeah, it would be really handy to have. So, I guess we'll stick with the Portkey for now then."

"Yes, that would be best."

Harry scrunched his face. "Just promise me one thing?"

Severus looked curiously at his son. "And that would be?"

"Please don't make us use some old stinky sock or shoe that smells like gourmet cheese, that I can't pronounce the name of?"

Severus smirked at him. "I'm making no promises."

He put his arm around his son's shoulders."Come, let's go eat breakfast and then be on our way."

Severus and Harry ignored the nasty glares that they received from some of the more resistant Slytherins as they walked amiably to the Great Hall.

Ron greeted Harry with a sullen look as he took his usual place beside Ginny. Hermione's eyes were red and tired-looking, and her face was as pale as alabaster.

Harry tried to draw Ron into the conversation several times, but he was having none of it. He glowered at Ginny, sent hateful glares at Hermione, and tried to ignore Harry's attempts to draw him into the conversation.

Finally...Harry gave up. He vacillated between wanting to eat slowly so that he would have more time with Ginny before he had to leave, and wanting to scoff his meal down quickly, so that he could be on his way. Harry knew that he was probably acting like a little child, but he was really excited to spend the night in their house. At the Dursleys, he never felt welcome, and although the Weasleys had always made Harry feel at home, Harry had always had that little hollow feeling in his heart, that yearned for his own family, his own home...some place that he really belonged.

Severus had already warned him that the house was not beautiful and in disrepair, but Harry could care less. He really didn't care what it looked like; he cared only that for once, he didn't have to pretend that the Weasleys were his family, or that the Dursleys really cared about him, and considered him a son. No...Harry didn't have to pretend any longer.

Ginny! He hadn't had the chance to speak with Ginny about his plans to go to Spinner's End with Severus. Well, he wouldn't have been able to see her all weekend anyway had he stayed at Hogwarts, so although he would miss her at meals, it wasn't like he'd be deprived of her presence too much.

Harry addressed both Ron and Ginny, or rather he tried to get Ron's attention. "I' won't be seeing you at all this weekend, because Severus has an old house in a Muggle neighbourhood, and he's taking me up there, and we're going to fix it up. So maybe you both can come visit there at Christmas," Harry said hopefully.

Ron glared at him. "Oh, and when would that be Harry?" He turned to throw a nasty look at Hermione, who flushed, and put her head down. "When I'm busy scrubbing the floors?" he said sarcastically. "Or...maybe when I'm hanging knickers outside on the bloody clothesline," he growled.

Harry sighed. "Right."

"Oh, and I guess that since you're not going to be here this weekend, you don't have to serve detention either," Ron said resentfully.

"Oh, never fear Mr. Weasley," a silky voice drawled behind them.

Harry looked up to see Severus smirking at him.

"I quite assure you that Harry will not be getting off scot-free this weekend."

Harry's looked up in horror. "What do you mean by that?"

Severus' lips quirked. "Well, I had to assure Minerva that you wouldn't be enjoying yourself, while your classmates were spending time performing monotonous and tedious tasks."

Harry's shoulders slumped.

Severus squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Just think of it as father and son bonding. You get to have a personal, private detention with me."

Harry groaned. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"You mean it doesn't? I'm insulted."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Time to go Harry."

Harry nodded. "Yeah okay." He leaned over and quickly kissed Ginny, who blushed under Severus' scrutiny.

"I guess that I'll see you...what? Tomorrow night? Will you be home for supper?"

Harry looked up at Severus.

Severus nodded. "I rather think that we'll be home for dinner tomorrow night." He smirked at Harry. "That is...if we ever leave."

Harry flushed. He rose reluctantly, but not before giving Ginny one last quick kiss. Merlin, how he loved her.

"Bye Ron."

"Bye," Ron said grudgingly.

Harry looked over to Hermione and nodded.

"Bye Harry," she said quietly. "Enjoy your weekend."

"Thanks Hermione."

--------

Harry took one last look back up at the castle, as they stood at the Iron Gates. He couldn't help it, he was as excited as a little child going to the fair for the first time.

Harry smiled up at Severus, who looked down at him in amusement. It was strange to see Severus dressed in Muggle clothing. He didn't look quite as menacing, dressed in simple black pants and a crisp white shirt, but of course...he'd never tell Severus that.

"Harry...grab it," Severus said impatiently.

The smile froze on Harry's face.

Harry scowled at his father, and pinched his nose. He clutched on to the old boot in disgust, and suddenly his belly-button felt as though it was turned inside out.

Ow!

A burst of pain shot through Harry's nose, when it made contact with the cold, hard ground. He felt a strong hand lift him up by the back of his jumper.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked, as he placed an arm around Harry's shoulders to steady him on his feet.

Harry winced; his nose throbbed painfully and his eyes watered. He pressed his hand against his nose; he could already feel the bump. Oh wonderful! Now, he was really going to resemble Severus.

Severus' eyes shone with concern. He gently moved Harry's hand away, his cool fingers probing along the bridge of the nose.

“It's broken,” he announced.

Harry scowled, and then clenched his eyes shut when the pain shot right up to his skull, and made him grind his teeth. “I kind of figured that,” he bit out.

Severus lifted his eyebrow, but said nothing. He scanned the area quickly to make sure that they were alone. Severus had carefully calculated beforehand, so that they would be dropped on a grassy hillside just outside of Spinner's End. Other than a few cows nibbling on hay in a nearby pasture, the area was deserted.

Severus whipped out his wand and said, “Episkey.”

Harry heard a crack and thought that he would pass out from the pain. He swiped the tears from his eyes, and delicately pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. The bump had disappeared and the pain, thankfully, along with it.

Harry looked up at Severus. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“One more thing,” Severus smirked as he lifted his wand once again. “We must go into the village to purchase food and supplies. I have known these people most of my life, and I don't fancy introducing my new son with you looking like that.”

Harry huffed. How insulting! But then he looked down at himself and saw that his jumper and jeans were smeared with mud, and the right knee of his jeans was torn; trickles of blood were oozing from a nasty scrape.

Now that he was not distracted from the pain in his nose, he realised that the scrape on his knee stung like a bugger.

Severus waved his wand once and chanted again.

Harry felt as though his knee were on fire but then it felt ice cold until the warmth slowly crept its way back in, leaving only a slight tingling in his kneecap.

“Reparo,” Snape commanded with a swish of his wand, and the tear in Harry's jeans mended itself.

With another flick of his wand and a Scourgify Harry felt a slight, cool breeze ruffle his hair, and he suddenly felt refreshed. It never failed to amaze him how a simple spell could make him feel that he just stepped out of the shower; he felt squeaky clean, and imagined that he could see himself sparkling.

Severus took one satisfied look at his son. He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, and gave them a little squeeze.

"Come son. You are about to make your début as Severus Snape's son and heir.”

Harry smirked. “Yes father.”

Severus' eyes widened. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

---------

Harry stood in awe, looking down at the village below. It reminded him of Hogsmeade. A light sprinkling of snow dusted the rooftops, and the chimneys puffed spirals of smoke. Harry felt like he'd stepped back in time as they approached the charming village. Sounds of horse's hooves clacking on the cobblestones, pulling quaint little carriages behind them, and the sounds of excited children chattering filled the air.

On every street lamp was twined garland with large red velvet ribbons, and there were miniature Christmas trees on every corner. The largest Christmas tree that Harry had ever seen stood in the middle of the town square, resplendent in brightly coloured ornaments and lights, with a large glittering star on top. In every shop, there were various window displays with little toy trains and Gingerbread Houses; Father Christmas looking jolly with his long white beard, and twinkling blue eyes.

Harry couldn't prevent a silly grin from appearing on his face. He'd always loved Christmas, despite the fact that he'd been forced for years to watch on the sidelines, while every present under the tree belonged to Dudley. The large boy had gorged on the sweets in his twelve inch long stocking, while Harry's had contained only coal.

Every year, while the Dursleys sat around the dinner table, filling up on pumpkin pie and Christmas pudding, Harry had had to not only serve the delicious-smelling dinner, but cook it as well. As Harry's stomach cramped painfully from hunger pains, he had watched Dudley and his uncle stuff themselves like gluttons.

It wasn't until Harry had come to Hogwarts, and his jaw had dropped when Hagrid dragged an enormous Christmas tree into the Great Hall that Harry really experienced for himself the joys of Christmas.

Harry would never forget that first Christmas morning, when he had unwrapped his fath-uh-James' invisibility cloak, and Mrs. Weasley's hand-knitted (Uh-sort of) jumper. It was the best Christmas he'd ever had. But Harry had a feeling that this Christmas was going to be very special as well. After all... he was going to spend it with his new father.

The sounds of Christmas carols swirled through his head as he followed Severus through the door of a store called, Susan's Staples.

A friendly-looking woman, with warm brown eyes, looked up when she heard the door open and the bell clang; as her eyes fell on Severus, her face lit up and her eyes crinkled as she gave him a welcoming smile. She smoothed a stray strand of dark tendrils that had come loose from her ponytail, and wiped her hands on her frayed, blue cotton apron.

“Severus,” she exclaimed delightfully, “it's been too long.”

"Susan," Severus greeted with a nod.

Harry's jaw dropped when Susan stretched up on her tippy-toes and gave Severus a kiss on the cheek.

Severus scowled.

Susan laughed. "You haven't changed a bit Sevvy."

"Do. Not. Call. Me. Sevvy," he growled.

"Sorry. Severus." She smiled lopsidedly.

Suddenly her attention turned to Harry.

"This is my-" Severus began.

"Your son," she said softly as she stared at Harry. "You look so much like your father at his age."

Susan looked up at Severus; her eyes glistened with tears.

"He's Lily's son, isn't he?" she whispered. "He has her eyes."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "You knew my mum?"

"Yes... I did."

Susan's eyes crinkled in confusion. "But I don't understand Severus. I mean, Lily married James Potter, they had a-"

A look of realisation washed over her face. She turned to look at Severus. "Is he-uh-?"

Harry's face heated up at the intense look of scrutiny that she was giving him.

"Yes Susan, this is my son Harry Potter."

Susan's eyes widened in shock. "The Harry Potter."

Harry's eyes widened. "Are you a- a witch then?"

"Harry, lower your voice," Severus reprimanded, when several customers turned their heads at Harry's outburst.

Harry's face flushed. "Sorry," he said apologetically.

"That's okay Harry," Susan assured him kindly.

She lowered her voice and her eyes swept around the store. "Let's go in the back, where we can talk."

Severus and Harry followed Susan through a curtain behind the counter, to what look like an enormous stockroom. Its shelves were filled with various jars of home-made pickles, jams, beets, and large bags of flour, sugar, corn, and other necessities.

Susan retrieved a wand from her pocket and whispered what Harry presumed was a silencing charm.

"Now, we can talk privately," she smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Yes Harry, as you can see I'm a witch."

"Susan and I were neighbours, Harry," Severus explained. "Since all the other children in this town were Muggles, we often played together."

"Yes, it was nice to discover that I was not the only one that was different," Susan sighed.

"So, is one of your parents a Muggle then?" Harry asked curiously.

"No actually. My parents were both Muggles you see, and were quite horrified to find out that I was a witch."

"Oh, that’s too bad," Harry said sympathetically. He could just imagine how difficult it must have been for her, especially if they were anything like the Dursleys or Tobias.

"Oh, but they eventually came to accept it and were quite proud of me when I started at Hogwarts," she explained quickly.

"As a matter of fact, it was Lily's parents, your grandparents, that helped my parents accept my being magic," she said with a small smile. "They were wonderful, kind people," she said softly. "They always thought of your father as a son.

Harry looked up at his father, and could see the wistful look in his eyes. Harry was glad then that Severus had had at least his Mum's family to look out for him, when his own father was so abusive.

Susan looked up at Severus curiously. "So Severus, what brings you back here then?"

Severus looked down at Harry. "I thought that Harry and I would spend Christmas at Spinner's End, but it's a little run down, and I thought that Harry would perhaps enjoy helping me fix it up."

"Yes, that's true. I mean, you haven't been here since last year, when you brought that creepy little fellow that James and Sirius used to pal around with, to live with you. What was his name...? Peter something?"

Harry's blood ran cold.

Severus looked down at Harry's face, which had gone taut with anger. Oh Merlin. He knew this was going to come out at one point or another, and he had hoped to be able to explain it to his son. He hadn't wanted Harry to find out this way.

"You brought that bastard to live with you?" Harry glared at Severus furiously.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "It’s not what you think, Harry."

"Did you know that he was responsible for Mom and James' death?" he demanded. "Of course you did," Harry said bitterly. "You knew everything that went on. How could you let him live with you when you knew what he did?"

"Because the Dark Lord ordered me to," Severus said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, and of course you just did everything the Dark Lord told you to do," Harry said mockingly.

"That's enough," Severus said in a low dangerous voice. "We will speak of this in private... later. Is that clear?"

Harry glared at him, lips pursed stubbornly.

"Is that clear?" Severus repeated, his dark eyes smouldering with anger.

"Yes sir," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"And you will apologize to Susan for your rudeness."

Harry blushed. "I'm sorry Susan. I-"

Susan studied both men's faces curiously. She had known Peter in school and had never liked him. He had always seemed so insipid and had followed James and Sirius around like a little puppy dog. It had made her ill. Now, she wondered what Harry had meant by him being responsible for James and Lily’s deaths. As a matter of fact, she had heard that Sirius was responsible for James and Lily’s death, and that Sirius had also killed Peter. Of course, when Severus had walked into her store last year, with Peter trailing behind him, she had almost gagged. Now she was burning with curiosity.

"It's alright Harry," she assured him kindly.

Severus' lips thinned. "No, it's not alright,"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but was grateful when Susan changed the subject.

"So, you'll need to stock up on a few things. Come," she said, as she flicked her wand to erase the silencing charm.

Susan went to fetch a buggy, and they spent the next forty-five minutes filling their cart to the brim with staples, such as milk, eggs, flour and sugar. Harry wondered at that. Did Severus bake? Well, Harry was quite a good cook; a throwback from his years of playing chef at the Dursleys. After sixteen years, he had eventually learnt not to burn the bacon. Luckily he had a hard head, and had succeeded in ducking Aunt Petunia's large black frying pan.

By the time that they were finished, Harry's head was swirling. Severus couldn't even get a word in edgewise, as Susan hustled them through aisle after aisle, throwing cleaning products, shampoo, soap, laundry detergent, and every Muggle necessity she could think of. Harry wondered why they couldn't just use magic in the privacy of their own home. Outside, he could understand, but with the curtains drawn, surely they didn't have to avoid the use of Magic so thoroughly? Not that Harry was averse to doing things the Muggle way.

Harry could see a smirk on Severus' face. He was obviously humouring the woman.

"Oh, and I guess that you'll be needing firewood as well," she added as an afterthought.

Severus nodded.

"Well, how about I have all these things delivered to you, and the wood as well?"

"Yes, that would be acceptable," Severus agreed. "Perhaps you would like to join us for dinner this evening Susan?"

Susan's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that would be lovely Severus, but-" She looked at Harry. "I don't want to intrude."

"No, we'd love for you to come to dinner, and maybe you could tell me more about, uh-", Harry said shyly. "-uh, I mean if you wouldn't mind-"

Susan grinned. "I'd be happy to tell you more about your mum, and of course," she grinned wickedly, "I could tell you a few stories about your father here."

"Susan," Severus growled.

"Oh relax Severus." She smiled innocently at him. "I won't tell Harry here anything too embarrassing."

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, I wouldn't be so smug Susan," he drawled. "I do believe I have a few stories of my own to tell."

He looked at her with quirked lips. "For instance, the lengths to which you went to get a certain blond Slytherin to notice you."

Susan blushed furiously. "Okay, okay. You win."

Severus smirked. "I always do."

-------

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Will we be there soon?"

"No."

"When will we-"

"Unless you wish me to use a sealing charm to glue your lips together until we arrive at Spinner's End," Severus raised his wand threateningly, "I would cease asking inane questions."

Harry clamped his mouth shut. He had no illusions about whether Severus would follow through on that threat. But damn, his feet were aching. This no magic bit was beginning to be a pain in the arse. They surely had walked at least two miles now. When the hell were they going to reach Severus' house?

Finally, when Harry felt like he had a mouth full of cotton, his throat parched and his feet throbbing painfully, they approached a rusted street sign, swinging in the soft breeze, with the large letters Spinner’s End on it. There were only about four or five houses along the long country lane, but thankfully, it looked as though there was a fair amount of land, separating the houses from each other.

Unfortunately for Harry, Severus' house was the very last house on the street.

Severus wasn't kidding; that the house was neglected and in disrepair was an understatement. The front fence, which had once been possibly white, was now yellowed, and smeared with mud. The front garden was overgrown with weeds, dandelions and the grass was almost as tall as he was.

Strangely enough, Harry itched to get his hands on the garden. That was one chore that the Dursleys had given him that he hadn't minded at all. If it hadn't been for the fact that they would force him to work for hours on end in the hot sun, without providing him with food or water, Harry wouldn't have minded staying out in the fresh air all day. Some summer days were unbearable though, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he was able to drink cool water from the hose, he would have fallen over from heat stroke.

Harry eyed a lawn mower to the side of the house, and vowed to cut the grass later; although, it would take a machete to cut through the grass that thick and tall before he would be able to use the lawn mower on it. Harry's mind was already making plans to ask Severus about buying some bulbs and seeds to plant flowers. Well, perhaps in the spring that is; a bitter wind cut through his jumper. A few snowflakes began to fall, and Harry shivered.

The house itself was also in need of a good coat of paint, and the shutters on the outside windows were hanging off their rusted hinges, but Harry couldn't help the flutter of excitement in his stomach at the thought that this was his home, no matter how run-down it was. That is until he imagined that Wormtail had stayed here. Harry knew that he'd been unreasonable back at Susan's store, and felt a wave of shame at his behaviour.

No wonder Severus had been furious with him. He'd embarrassed the man in front of his childhood friend. Severus had had a part to play, and he'd played it well. Harry felt guilty at having acted like a child when he knew that Severus had really had no choice in taking in Pettigrew. One did not refuse a direct order from Voldemort, unless one had a death wish. It couldn’t have been easy for Severus to have the man that had betrayed the only woman he'd ever loved, in his home.

Harry followed Severus up the rickety stairs and watched as Severus pulled out a gold key from his trousers' pocket.

As Harry stepped over the threshold, he started sneezing uncontrollably. A stream of sunlight filtered through the parted yellowed curtains and illuminated the dust particles floating through the air.

If he ignored the layers of dust coating the walls and furniture, Harry could see the potential of the house. The ceiling was high and arched with large wood beams. The dirty area rugs could not hide scratched wood floors underneath, but Harry imagined that if they were sanded down and polished, they would be quite beautiful. Granted, it would take a lot of plaster, and about three coats of paint to cover the smudges, holes, and burn marks on the walls. Harry wondered at that. It looked as though someone had been ducking hexes, and the walls had taken the punishment.

The furniture was mismatched and the couch and armchairs were tattered and frayed with springs sticking up. The fireplace had remnants of a fire, long gone cold. There were pieces of charred wood and ash, and Harry had a feeling that the Floo would need to be cleaned before it could be used.

"It's not much Harry," Severus said in a husky voice. "But this is my home; our home."

Harry smiled up at him. "It's great Severus," he whispered.

Severus arched an eyebrow at him.

"No, really," Harry insisted. "It needs a little work, but this is great."

"A little work?" Severus asked disbelievingly.

Harry grinned. "Well, maybe a lot of work, but it's going to be a lot of fun to fix it up."

Severus couldn't help but be pleased at Harry's enthusiasm; it was contagious. He hadn't realised that he'd been dreading to see a disappointed look in Harry's eyes. He wished he had more to pass down to his son, but Tobias had not been sentimental, and anything from his mother's side of the family had been destroyed by his father in his drunken rages.

Tobias had insisted that he'd not wanted any reminders of his wife's freakish magical history. Eileen had managed to hide a few old photographs and some small heirlooms, like his grandmother's wedding ring, and a couple of other small items that were precious to her, but the majority of it had been thrown out with the trash, or burnt, shortly after his parents were married, and Tobias' true colours had become painfully apparent.

"Well, if we're careful, we can use some magic as long as we make certain that the curtains are drawn, and the doors are locked. The neighbours tend to be a little too friendly," he said disgustedly. "It wouldn't surprise me if some nosy hag showed up at our door, casserole or apple pie in hand, on the premise of welcoming me home," he sneered.

Harry laughed. "How inconsiderate of them."

Severus glared at him, and then put his arms around Harry's shoulders. "You, young man, are becoming just a little too cheeky for your own good."

Harry chuckled. "I try."

"Come, I'll show you the rest of the house," Severus said as he gently guided Harry towards the kitchen.

The house was not overly large, but not cramped either. The kitchen, although rather dirty and grimy like the rest of the house, had a large bay window that drenched the kitchen in bright sunlight. Harry thought that the kitchen wasn't in bad shape, and all it needed was a good cleaning. The counter-tops were actually quite beautiful. They were dark marble granite, and the floor was ceramic tiles, of a similar colour. The fridge and stove were coated in dust and grease, but all Harry could see in his mind, is what it would look like when they were finished with it.

As Severus opened the door to the next room, Harry's eyes widened.

"This is the library," Severus announced proudly.

There were rows and rows of shelves, housing every book imaginable. Hermione would be in heaven, Harry thought in awe. He'd always suspected that his father was the scholarly type... after all, he's a professor, but Harry had had no idea the man was quite so taken with reading, but seeing the hundreds of books that lined the shelves, he thought that the man rivaled Hermione.

There was a desk off to the corner, littered with books and papers, and a large table in the middle of the room. Off to the side, there was a fireplace, with two large frayed, but comfortable-looking arm chairs, and Harry could just picture him and Severus each occupying one, curled up with a good book in front of a cozy, crackling fire while sipping on their hot rum Butterbeers. Well... maybe minus the rum.

"You may use the library to finish your essay, which I expect before Christmas," Severus' deep voice interrupted Harry's pleasant thoughts.

Harry rolled his eyes. The man had an annoying habit of bursting his bubble of happiness.

"There are actually four bedrooms," he said while they climbed the steep staircase. "This is my room, but you may choose one of the other three rooms for your own. I suggest this one," he said, while opening the door. "This is the largest room."

Harry couldn't help it. He hesitated.

"No Harry, Pettigrew didn't stay in this room, or any of the others on this floor. As a matter of fact, there was a small room, adjoining the kitchen that he stayed in. I demolished it after he left."

The guilt rose up again. Harry looked up at Severus. "I'm sorry for the way I acted back there Severus, it's just that the thought of that traitor staying with you just made me-"

Severus nodded. "It's understandable Harry. Trust me, it took incredible discipline, not to spit in the Dark Lord's face when he ordered that I be put in charge of that traitor," he said. "However-" he looked at Harry sternly. "-that does not excuse your rudeness or discussing a very private matter in front of Susan."

Harry felt his face warm up. He nodded. "I know," he said quietly.

"It's behind us Harry. Let us not speak of it again."

"Okay," Harry agreed. He got the feeling that it was more of an order, than a suggestion, but it was one that he was happy to oblige. As a matter of fact, he never wanted to think about that rat ever again. That man had been responsible for as much heartache in Harry's life, as even Voldemort had been.

Harry almost jumped out of his skin as a loud gong echoed through the cottage, making the walls rumble.

"What the hell was that?" Harry demanded his hands over his ears.

Severus smirked at him. "The doorbell."

Harry's jaw dropped. The doorbell?

"Our supplies no doubt."

"Oh right." Harry's stomach was starting to rumble. He could do with a little food.

--------------

An hour later, Harry and Severus were seated at the small kitchen table, eating a simple lunch of sandwiches and soup. They had performed a quick cleaning charm on the kitchen.

"If you like, after lunch, we can do a quick clean-up of the other rooms, and then perhaps discuss how you would like to decorate. Perhaps Susan can bring over some of those home decorating magazines that she's so fond of," he sneered.

Harry snickered. He knew that Severus was only doing this for his sake, and had no interest whatsoever in decorating. As far as Harry could tell, Severus was satisfied if he had a bed, a Potion's lab, and food. He had little time or inclination for flipping through Home Decor magazines, and shopping for furniture, or for choosing wallpaper and paint colours.

Oh well; Harry had enough interest for the both of them, and he was determined to enjoy every minute of it. It wasn't every day that he got to have a say in what his new home looked like. He hadn't wanted, or cared about what Grimmauld Place looked like. As far as Harry was concerned, a part of him had died when Sirius had, and it was only because of his new relationship with Severus that he'd started to really care about living again.

"I was wondering what we're going to do about the front garden Severus," Harry said, after wiping his mouth with his napkin. "You know that grass is so high, I don't know how we'd even get the lawn mower through it."

"We could perhaps, put a charm on it tonight when it's dark outside, to make it easier to cut with the shears. We can't very well dispose of it completely. That would be too obvious."

Harry nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Do you want me to do the dishes?" Harry asked, when Severus rose to put his plate in the sink.

Severus shook his head. "This is probably a bad habit to get into, but I will clean them magically for today, but once we finish putting the house in order, it is preferable to get in the habit of avoiding magic as much as possible. It would be too easy to forget, and use it while in the presence of a Muggle."

"Yeah, I understand."

After Severus had cleaned the dishes, he looked up at the clock on the wall, and crooked a finger for Harry to follow him.

Harry looked at him curiously, as Severus led him to the back of the house. He took out his wand, mumbled something that sounded Latin to Harry's ears, and Harry's eyes widened when a panel in the wall opened up, with a set of stairs leading down, to what looked like a basement, or a... dungeon, Harry thought caustically. Sure enough, there was what looked like an exact replica of Severus' lab at Hogwarts.

Harry looked up questioningly at Severus.

Severus smirked. "I do believe that it is time for your detention."

Harry groaned. He had thought that the man was joking about that.

"Uh, just a minute. The lab is a mess, and what about potions ingredients."

Severus quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly think that I would leave the house without some Potions ingredients from my personal stores?"

"Your first assignment will be helping me chop ingredients and replenishing my stocks."

Well, that didn't sound too bad as a detention.

Severus smirked at him. "After you wash all the beakers and stirring instruments by hand, that is. Oh and there are some cauldrons there that have been sitting for far too long. I fear that even with a good scrubbing, the caked-on residue will be difficult to remove."

Harry glared at him.

Severus smiled evilly at him. "If it helps any, Harry, your friends are at this very moment, scrubbing the toilets in the Prefect's lavatories."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled, as he looked around for some cleaning solution to sterilize the instruments with. One thing he had learnt from his time spent in the lab with Severus, over the past few weeks, was that even using the wrong kind of cleaning product could interfere with a potion, and could actually react chemically , creating an interaction that could produce dangerous, combustible gasses.

Finally, after an hour of scrubbing a particularly stubborn cauldron, Severus took pity on Harry and finished cleaning it with a flick of his wand. Harry looked up at him gratefully. That is, until Severus pointed at the counter behind him, motioning to the sharp cutting instruments and the pile of Lacewing flies and Shrivelfigs to be chopped.

“Wow, this is delicious Susan,” Harry said, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Yes,” Severus nodded.

“Did you make this lasagna yourself?” Harry asked, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin.

“Yes,” Susan said shyly, her face tingeing pink.

“It was very considerate of you to cook supper for us,” Severus said stiffly.

“Well, I know you've both been busy cleaning. and -” her eyes swept around the room, taking in the tiles that shone as though they'd been scrubbed scrupulously; the counters and appliances that were polished so thoroughly, you could see your image in them. “-you've done a marvelous job.” Her eyes twinkled. “It positively sparkles.”

Severus smirked. “Well, the credit would have to go to my son here,” he said, in what could have been interpreted as an affectionate expression for those who knew the reserved potions master well. “He cleaned it from top to bottom; insisting on doing most of it...the Muggle way.”

Harry felt his face warm up. He played with the crisp linen table cloth; twisting it between his fingers nervously. He was embarrassed for anyone to suspect that he'd been brought up as a house elf. What was ironic, however, was that, when he didn't have his aunt or uncle hovering over him and berating him for missing a spot on the floor with the scrubbing brush, or beating him for not meeting their standards of excellence, he actually enjoyed cleaning.

Snape had raised a dark eyebrow, when Harry insisted on playing very loud rock music, while he moved from room to room, his bucket, mop and rags in tow. Severus had tried to assure him that they hadn't needed to avoid magic altogether, but when he realised that the wide grin plastered on Harry's face was pride and pleasure, he shoved his wand back into his trousers' pocket, picked up a feather duster, and proceeded to work side-by-side with his son, until they both stood back, and admired their hard work; a sense of pride and accomplishment, making them care little for their weary limbs and aching backs.

Susan smiled at Harry. “Well, I thought that since you were working so hard on getting this place in shape, that it would be nice if you didn't have to cook as well.”

Harry had a sudden thought. He looked at Severus. “Can you even cook?” he asked curiously.

“I'll have you know that it was I who taught Susan everything she knows,” he said indignantly.

Susan cocked an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

The corner of Severus' mouth lifted. “Well no,” he admitted to Harry. “But I'm no slouch in the kitchen either.”

Harry looked at him disbelievingly. In all the time that he had stayed with Severus, they had either eaten in the Great Hall, or had something relatively simple like soup or sandwiches, but then Harry thought that it sort of made sense for someone who was so talented at Potions to be able to cook as well.

“Can you make lasagna, garlic bread and Caesar salad like this?” Harry smirked.

“No,” Severus admitted. “No one can make that quite like Susan.”

Susan flushed. “You two are going to make my head swell.”

“Well it's true,” Harry said, nodding his head. “I mean the food at Hogwarts is good, but they never make anything like this.”

“Well you two are very sweet,” she said, and then laughed at Severus' look of horror at being called sweet.

“Well, do you have any room for desert?”

Harry felt as though his stomach would explode, but curiosity got the better of him.

“What'ya got?” he asked eagerly.

She chuckled. “Cheesecake with fresh strawberries.”

“Well...I think that I can make a little room for it.”

Severus rolled his eyes, and smirked at Susan. “Growing boys!”

Harry sighed. “I wish.”

Susan scrunched her eyes in confusion.

“Harry is unhappy with his small stature,” he explained.

Harry felt his face heat up. He felt a surge of anger rise up at the thought that once again, his years of starvation and neglect had had long-term consequences on his body's growth.

“Just a second Harry,” Susan said as she rose, pushed her chair back, went over to the cupboard, and turned around to address Severus; her hand suspended in mid-air as she pulled out two plates, and wondered if she needed a third. “So Severus, are you going to have some?”

“I'll pass thank you, Susan,” he replied. “But the meal was certainly delicious. Thank you once again.”

Susan smiled. “You're more than welcome. More coffee Severus?” she asked as she placed a plate of cheesecake, with fresh strawberries on top, in front of Harry, and one in front of her own place setting.

Harry snickered. “That is like asking a cat if he wants sardines.”

Susan chuckled.

Severus quirked his lips. “You'd better watch it young man, or you'll be doing that pile of dishes over there without magic.”

Harry grinned at Susan. “His bark is worse than his bite. You'd better give him that coffee right away. He gets grumpy without it.”

Susan poured coffee into Severus' cup and smiled at him. “Yes I remember very well. Severus Snape, without his daily dose of caffeine, is like an angry Hippogriff when you forget to bow down to him.”

Severus scowled. “Why do I feel like I'm being ganged up on?” he said grumpily.

“Cause you are?” Harry replied cheekily.

“Humph,” Severus responded.

“So Harry...” Susan took a sip of her coffee. “This is your last year, right?”

Harry nodded.

“Do you have any plans for after graduation?”

“Yeah, I'd like to be an Auror.”

“As if he hasn't had enough of dealing with Dark wizards,” Severus said sardonically.

“Yeah well, this is different,” he argued, after savouring a mouthful of creamy cheesecake and sweet strawberries.

Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Oh really? he drawled.

“Well yeah,” Harry said hotly. “I wouldn't be working with the Ministry constantly working against me. We finally have a Minister of Magic that has some brains.”

“Yes, but you'd still be putting your life in danger,” Severus argued; all the while pushing down the overwhelming, unexpectedly...suffocating, feeling at the thought that the son that he'd finally been able to acknowledge, and gotten to know, could possibly be put in mortal danger or harm, once again. He didn't like this new, vulnerable feeling of worry that accompanied the state of fatherhood.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry choked. “But I've lost so many people that I've cared about, and not been able to do anything about it.” He spread his hands before him. “This is my chance to take what I've learnt over the past seven years, and use it maybe to stop someone like Voldemort from rising up, and ever hurting those I love again.”

Severus couldn't help the surge of pride that rose up in him. While he absolutely loathed the idea of his son pursuing such a dangerous career, he couldn't help being proud of the young man before him.

Susan smiled mischievously at Harry. “So Harry... I would imagine a handsome young man like yourself, must have a girlfriend tucked away somewhere?”

Severus smirked when Harry blushed. “Yes, he does. As a matter of fact, I'm certain that I'm to be a grandfather of many red-headed children.

Harry sputtered on his coffee. He looked at his father in horror.

Susan shook her head. These two were actually quite amusing to observe.

----------

“So Harry, here ... I thought these might be helpful for you to look at, to give you some decorating ideas,” Susan said handing Harry a pile of glossy magazines.

“Thanks,” Harry looked up her gratefully.

After dinner, the three sat before a crackling fire, sipping on after-dinner brandies. Harry had looked up in surprise when Severus handed it to him.

"Moderation," Severus elaborated.

Harry's face flushed. He simply nodded to acknowledge that he understood his father's message.

Harry curled up in the large armchair, tucking his feet beneath him. He took a sip of brandy and swirled it in his mouth. Between the large meal, his exhaustion from cleaning, the hypnotic flames dancing off the walls, and the warm glow that spread through his body, Harry's eyes slowly closed.

Severus couldn't help the small smile that transformed his harsh features, as he rushed to pick the glass of brandy from Harry's relaxed fingers, before it could spill. It was very difficult to believe that Harry was actually seventeen, when he looked so small and young curled up into a ball, in a large, sunken chair, that practically swallowed the slight boy.

Susan stared at her old friend. She just never thought that she'd ever see the day, when Severus Snape would look so affectionately down at his sleeping child; she'd never in a million years ever pictured the man even being a father. But then again, there was a time before things had gone horribly wrong with Lily, when she was sure that Severus would settle down and have loads of children, and then...Severus turned into a man that she didn't know anymore.

Susan and Severus had not spoken for many years after Lily and James had gotten married. Severus had been not only a broken man, but she had heard rumours that he'd succumbed to the allure of Dark Magic. Eventually though, Severus had moved back into his family home, dragging that creepy little man with him, and Susan had been appalled at the dark, bitter man that her old friend had become. But Susan had not given up on him, despite all the rumours. She knew that there was the same shy, insecure little boy that she'd grown up with, hidden deep inside the cold, hard outer shell.

“You have a very handsome son there Severus,” Susan whispered. “I can't believe that this is Harry Potter.”

She studied him for a moment. “There's one thing that I don't understand though,” she said, her brows crinkling. “How comes he looks so much like you now? I saw his picture in the Prophet not a couple of months ago, and he looked the spitting image of James.”

“It's a rather long story Susan,” Severus said wearily. “One that is rather unbelievable, and...complicated,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, of course. I understand.”

Severus felt a pang of guilt, when he saw Susan's crumpled expression. “I promise that I'll tell you everything Susan, but it's a very long story, and as I said...” he spread his hands out before him. “One that boggles the imagination.”

“I promise you,” Severus said, taking Susan's small hands in his own larger ones, “that I'll tell you the whole story one day.”

Susan nodded.

“I do believe that you and I have an unfinished game of chess to attend to,” Severus said as he bent to retrieve an old, Muggle, jade chess set, hidden in the bottom shelf of a old, cherry wood cabinet.

Severus snuck another affectionate look at his son's curled form in the chair, and beckoned to Susan to sit on the couch, where they began a very long game of chess, with Severus grudgingly admitting defeat to Susan finally, at three in the morning.

“Thank you for the dinner, Susan,” Severus said gruffly, after seeing his old friend to the door.

“You're welcome Severus, and it was a pleasure to meet Harry. Tell him that for me, will you?”

Severus nodded.

“And tell him that once you've both gone through the magazines, that I'll help you to choose paint, and I’ll arrange for you to obtain whatever furniture and such that you wish to purchase. I have several contacts that I can hook you up with,” she offered.

“I'll let Harry know. We'll be back next weekend and then again for the Christmas holidays.”

Susan nodded. “Goodnight Severus.”

“Goodnight Susan,” Severus said huskily. Seeing Susan again, brought all sorts of memories rushing back to him again; some pleasant, but most...very painful.

-------

Harry cracked an eye open and squeezed it shut again. He pulled the covers over his head, and then whipped then back down again, when he felt a presence beside his bed.

He scowled at Severus, who was smirking down at him.

"Well...it would seem as though you have decided to join the land of the living," Severus said dryly.

"Can you close the curtains please?" Harry groaned, slapping his hand over his eyes to block out the harsh sunlight filtering in through the shiny window panes, which he'd cleaned the day before.

"Hmm...well I thought that you'd perhaps like to take a stroll into town to choose furniture and paint." He smirked when Harry shot up in bed and threw the covers on the floor.

Harry grinned. "Well why didn't you say so?"

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps a shower is in order," he said caustically, eyeing Harry's greasy hair.

"It's all your fault, you know. It's in the genes," Harry grumbled, while opening drawers, searching for clean clothes.

"I'll have you know that my greasy hair is caused from the steam and fumes of my potions," Severus said indignantly.

"Sure it is," Harry said teasingly.

"You have exactly fifteen minutes to get showered, dressed and seated at the breakfast table, or I'll show you just how greasy your hair can become, while brewing potions, and chopping up cockroaches and spiders," he threatened with a smirk.

Severus quirked his lips as he heard a thud against the closed door.

--------

"So...what's for breakfast?" Harry asked, as he entered the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his neck, and rivulets of water dripping down his face and ears.

Severus scowled at him. "You are dripping water all over the floor."

"Well, you said that I only had fifteen minutes to get a shower, get dressed and get down here for breakfast," Harry said, scrunching up his face in a glare.

"That may be the case, but that does not pre-empt taking a few minutes to dry yourself," Severus said acerbically.

"Fine," Harry grumbled, as he patted his head with the fluffy towel.

"So...breakfast?" Harry asked again, trying to peek at what Severus was cooking.

Severus was standing at the stove; one hand clutching the wrought-iron frying pan, the other holding a spatula.

Harry's stomach rumbled with hunger, as the delicious aromas filled the air.

"Pancakes. Now set the table."

"You can make pancakes?" Harry asked, his eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

"As I told you last night, I am a fair cook. Much the same as with your relatives, I was not allowed to use magic growing up, and my mother was not always well enough to cook."

Harry felt a lump form in his throat. As much as he hated to think about the Dursleys, he knew that Severus' childhood had been just as, if not more miserable than his own had been.

Harry hungrily stabbed at the stack of pancakes with his fork, and heaped them onto his plate.

Severus looked at Harry disapprovingly as he drowned the pancakes in thick maple syrup.

"Like a little pancake with your syrup, do you? he said sarcastically.

"You know, if you had a sweet tooth, then maybe you wouldn't be in such a bad mood all the time," Harry said, smirking.

"And perhaps if you put as much effort in your schoolwork as you do in being insolent, then your marks would improve drastically," he drawled.

"I guess that greasy hair is not the only thing that I've inherited from you," Harry said cheekily.

"Eat Potter, we haven't got all day," Severus said, pointing with his fork at Harry's still half-eaten plate.

"Okay Snape."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Uh...father? Dad?" Harry said half-jokingly. He had been thinking a lot lately about how he addressed Severus. He didn't know if he was quite ready to call Snape dad, as James would always be dad for him, but he was starting to feel comfortable with Severus, and wanted to acknowledge their new-found relationship.

"You may call me anything but Snape," Severus said uncomfortably.

"I-I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready just yet calling anyone else dad, but James." Harry was surprised to see the hurt look on Severus' face. "Well, you know, you just don't seem the dad type, and you already told me once that you didn't want to be called dad, or -" Harry hesitated. "I mean- uh- you don't, do you?"

"As you wish," Severus said stiffly. "You may still call me Severus if you feel more comfortable." He lowered his eyes. “You may certainly call me...father if you wish," he said quietly.

At Harry's look of insecurity, he added, "I would most certainly be honoured if you'd call me Father, Harry, but as much as I'm proud to be acknowledged as your father, calling me Severus is fine as well."

Harry felt choked up. He knew that Severus was not the demonstrative type and felt uncomfortable with shows of affection. This was a big deal for a man like that.

"And, I'm proud to be your son too. And maybe someday, when I'm ready, and if you feel comfortable with it..."

"Harry," Severus interrupted. "You don't have to explain yourself. You are seventeen...an adult, and it's perfectly understandable that you wish to keep the memory of James-" He made a face. "This is very difficult for me to admit you realise, as Po-James and I were enemies, but I am trying very hard to let go of my grudges towards the man, and move on."

He steepled his hands together and stared at Harry. "What I'm trying to say Harry is, although I can't pretend that I'm happy about it, I understand that you still consider James your father, and want to honour his memory. And, as I'm the one that is lucky enough to have seen the fine man that you've become, I certainly think that I can put aside my jealousies and allow you not to have to choose between us."

"Now, stop worrying about this, and let it come naturally. There are many other things that are more important than a title Harry."

"Yeah, like greasy hair."

"Yes, and big noses," Severus said with a smirk.

Harry's hand flew to his nose.

Severus laughed. "Come, let's get these dishes done, and be on our way."

"Can I use magic?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "If it will get us out of this house faster, then certainly."

-----

Harry flipped through the pages of Susan's magazine, until he found the page that he had marked. "What do you think of these colour schemes Severus?"

Severus raised his eyebrow."Humph, a bit too Gryffindorish for my taste, but as I've given you carte blanche to decorate every room, other than my bedroom, that is, he smirked. "You are certainly free to choose the colour schemes."

"I was thinking though," Harry said, chewing on his bottom lip. “What about your furniture? I mean, would you rather fix it up, or buy all new. I mean, was it your parents; does it have sentimental value?"

"As far as I'm concerned Harry, we can take the lot of it and put a match to it," Severus said with a pained expression.

"I'm sorry," Harry choked. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.

"Harry, today is about you. Making a fresh start, and making this home yours...ours," he said firmly.

-----------

"So, are you quite satisfied with our purchases Harry?" Severus said disgustingly.

Harry grinned. "Yes Severus, I am." He reached out to pat Severus' hand, who withdrew it from the table as though Harry's touch was hot as coal.

"I think that it's about time that you expanded your horizons. I mean...how much bloody black, green and silver can one man endure?"

"I agree that perhaps I have an over fondness for, um...black. And my penchant towards Slytherin colours might be a little exaggerated, however-" he said raising one long, potion-stained finger, "-was it necessary to assault my senses by choosing such Gryffindor colours for practically every room in the house?"

Harry smirked. "You're exaggerating. I only chose those colours for my room." He put his finger on his chin in thought. "Oh, and the parlour, but other than that, I think that I chose colours that will brighten up the place."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Yes, canary yellow for the kitchen, purple for the bathroom..."

"Hey, it's not purple, technically...it's mauve!"

Severus scowled. "Yes, those are two of my favourite colours," he said sarcastically.

"Well, you did say I could choose any colours I wanted," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, I did, but do said colours have to be so bloody cheery?" he said scathingly.

"You know, Severus. It's one thing to look like a vampire, but do you really have to look like you live in a coffin too; with everything black, dark and dreary-looking?"

Harry was saved from Severus' fierce glare, and forthcoming acid tongue, when the waitress brought their lunch. They had both been relieved to sit down after a tiring day of visiting furniture stores, paint stores, and their tired brains were overloaded with images of paint and wallpaper swatches, black divans, large sofas, small sofas, leather sofas, white and blue, and black and charcoal sofas; their eyes burnt, their feet were swollen up like watermelons and as excited as Harry was at decorating his new home; he didn't care if he never saw another paint or furniture store again .They came upon a quaint little restaurant; it's awning decorated in garland, and brightly lit with Christmas lights. They opted for a table by the frosted window. Harry felt a thrill of anticipation as he watched the large snowflakes swirl to the ground. Harry couldn't believe that Christmas was in only a couple of weeks. Even Severus' bad mood couldn't dampen his rising spirits.

"What can I get you two gentlemen?" the young waitress asked hesitatingly. The older man looks prickly, she thought to herself.

Harry smiled. He was used to Severus' moods, and like he told Susan last night at dinner, Severus' bark was worse than his bite; at least most of the time.

"Uh, I'll have, hmm..." Harry looked at Severus. "How about pizza? I haven't had that in ages."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Aw, c'mon...lighten up Severus. I tell you what. We can decorate your study all in green and silver if you like, and we can do the library in really sombre colours."

In truth, Severus' mood had nothing to do with Harry's choice of decor, nor about colours. Ever since he and Susan had taken a walk down memory lane, Severus had been battling the demons from his past. He couldn't shake the feelings of regret and hurt that threatened to overwhelm him. He'd never been a carefree teenager, only having to worry about what girl to ask to the ball, or whether the weather would be decent for their next Quidditch match. It seems as though he'd always been mature beyond his years; with adult responsibilities.

Severus shook his head as though to clear the cobwebs, and looked at his son's hopeful expression, and felt a pang of regret for having been even more irritable than usual. He'd wanted this to be a chance to become closer; to get to know each other as father and son, and rather than make his son feel as though he truly belonged at Spinner's End, he'd only made the boy insecure and trying to shake him out of his sombre mood.

Severus looked up at the waitress. "We will have a large vegetarian pizza, with a mineral water, and a -"

Harry smirked. Trust Severus to make sure that even pizza was healthy and had vegetables on it. The man was constantly berating him like a little child for his poor eating habits. He couldn't help it really. He'd not grown up being given a choice of nutritious foods; if he was given any food at all, it was Dudley’s leftovers and in his early years especially, those foods were far from nutritious. Harry had a feeling, that had Severus been allowed to be a father to him from an early age, the man would have made sure he ate well, and plied him with plenty of fruits and vegetables. Again, Harry couldn't help but wonder what his life would have been like, had he grown up with Severus.

"A Pepsi please," Harry told the waitress, "and forget the mineral water...my father will have a Pepsi too."

Severus look appalled. "Do you realise what ingredients are in there?"

Harry grinned. "No, and I really have no interest in knowing, but I do know that mineral water and pizza just do not go together."

Severus huffed, and nodded to the waitress. "Very well, I'll have some of that Pepsi," he said as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. He turned to Harry after the waitress had left.

"You do realise Harry, that there is still a chance that you are growing. Boys mature at a slower rate than girls, and can continue growing until as late as twenty-one-years-old. Gorging on sugary sweets and poisoning your body with toxic substances such as Pepsi, which is full of sugar, corn syrup, and other poisonous ingredients, can interfere with that growth."

Harry rolled his eyes. Having a father for a professor could be tiresome at times, particularly with a father like Severus Snape, who enjoyed lecturing just a tad too much.

Harry sighed. "Yes Severus and I promise that when we get home, I'll have some fruits and vegetables to make up for it."

Severus narrowed his eyes at him, as though to ascertain whether Harry was patronizing him or not.

-----------

"You know I was thinking Severus," Harry said looking at the paint and wallpaper that had been delivered to their door, not twenty minutes after they arrived, "that maybe we could use magic to decorate just this once," Harry said wearily. He was weary from shopping, but was really anxious to see the fruits of their shopping expedition come to life in the dreary house, and didn't think he had the energy, nor the patience to paint and wallpaper, the Muggle way.

"Yes, I think I quite agree," Severus said, pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"So, where would you like to begin?"

"Would you mind if we did my room first?" Harry asked, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. "I'm really anxious to see what it's going to look like decorated."

Severus smirked. "Of course you do. Why wouldn't you be anxious to see your room decorated in all those obnoxious Gryffindor colours?"

Harry chewed on his bottom lip. "Does it really bother you that much?" he asked worriedly.

Severus put his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"I apologize for my bad temper Harry, and I never meant to dampen your spirits. My mood really has nothing to do with your choice of colours. I've been working through some issues that have nothing to do with you.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't often that the man talked about how he was feeling, and even rarer was it for him to apologize.

"It's okay Severus, I understand," Harry said quietly. Actually, Harry had noticed a change in Severus' mood since Susan's visit and had a feeling that it had to do with his mum.

"No, it's not Harry, and I just want you to know that--Oh Merlin this is difficult," he said as though he was pulling his teeth, "I am proud to have a Gryffindor son. And if you ever repeat that to anyone, I will deny every word of it."

Harry looked around his newly-decorated room, and a strange feeling swelled in his chest. He knew that Spinner's End held many bad memories for Severus, but for Harry, the dilapidated house, was really the first place, other than Hogwarts, that he could truly call home.

It was a testament to how much Severus had changed in the past few weeks, that he'd even allowed Harry free reign when it came to decorating the house; hell, he'd even allowed Harry to incorporate some Gryffindor colours throughout certain rooms. The Snape of old would never have laid aside his own feelings, to accommodate another.

But Snape had implied that he cared about Harry, even if it wasn't a gushing declaration, and Harry thought that though they'd had their ups and downs, that they'd made amazing progress in their relationship, which brought Harry to make a rather life-changing decision; he knew just what he was going to get Severus for Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas, Harry had been hoping to convince Severus to get a Christmas tree. He wondered if, after the reserved man had already allowed him to transform his home, it was too much to ask if he could decorate for Christmas as well. The man probably didn't even own a Christmas ornament.

“So, is it to your liking?” A deep voice startled him.

Harry turned around to see an unreadable expression on his father's face.

“Yes, very much,” Harry said sincerely.

Although Severus teased him about the colour scheme of his room, it really wasn't over the top. Yes, the room had splashes of red and gold throughout, but the bedding and curtains, also had deep midnight blue trimming.

Harry had a desk, with which to do his homework, and since the house was situated in a Muggle neighbourhood, it had all the Muggle amenities, such as running water and electricity, so Harry convinced Severus to allow him to purchase a computer, and a television set for his room.

Although Harry had been living in the Wizarding World for seven years now, he had spent the first eleven years of his life, and every summer afterwards, watching Dudley being spoilt by his aunt and uncle. It didn't even have to be a special occasion, for Dudley to be lavished with presents, but at Christmas and birthdays, he received many more presents than one child should ever receive. What Dudley wanted, Dudley got.

If his cousin went to a friend's house, and that friend had the newest video game or toy, then Dudley would rush home, and drag his aunt and uncle to the store to buy it for him. What was worse, was that it was thoughtlessly discarded the moment Dudley tired of it. Harry would have been thrilled to receive Dudley's hand-me-down toys, if only they'd not been virtually destroyed by the careless boy. Even if the object was still in decent condition, they'd never allow Harry to have anything that would give him pleasure; not when their goal in life, was to make him as miserable as possible.

While Harry knew that Severus would never have indulged him as his aunt and uncle did with Dudley, Harry was confident that the man would never have starved or beat him, and perhaps bought him a present or two for his birthday or Christmas, that didn't involve stinky, holey, second-hand socks.

Harry pushed down a wave of bitter regret for his lost childhood, and what could have been. He felt a strong hand squeeze his shoulder, and looked up to see his father's dark gaze upon him, with what could constitute fondness. The man was very intuitive and Harry had a feeling that Severus knew exactly what Harry was thinking, while staring with awe at the wonderful bedroom, that was all his. A bedroom that was not a cupboard under the stairs, that didn't have bars on the windows, that didn't consist of a small cot, with springs poking at his ribcage, and childish drawings adorning the walls of a cupboard that was meant to house mops, broomsticks, and cleaning products, not small, dark-haired children, with sad emerald eyes.

Yes, as Harry stared at the large, four poster bed, with the thick blue, burgundy and gold comforter, and matching curtains, the pale caramel coloured walls, with burgundy trim, the polished, cherry-wood bureau, night tables, and large desk that housed a small laptop computer on it, the shelves of books that Harry had been allowed to choose, from not only the local bookstore, but Severus' own personal library, and the large area rug, with splashes of burgundy, blue and gold woven into it, Harry's throat clogged with emotion.

Severus had given more to Harry in the short time that they'd known each other, than in all the years he'd spent with his relatives.

“Come Harry,” Severus whispered in his ear, “let's have dinner. We mustn't arrive too late at Hogwarts. I have some grading to do, and I imagine that you must have some homework to complete as well.”

Harry groaned. It wasn't as though he wasn't looking forward to seeing his friends and Ginny, but this had been a magical couple of days, and he wanted it to last forever.

“We'll be back next weekend Harry,” Severus said, squeezing his shoulder again. “And perhaps, if you behave, we will, Merlin Forbid, get a Christmas tree,” he said, his lip curling in disgust, or rather pretending to be appalled at the idea. In truth, Harry's excitement and anticipation of the holiday, was drawing Severus out from the dark abyss that he'd sentenced himself to, the day that he'd lost Lily. He found himself, albeit reluctantly, getting caught up in Harry's enthusiasm, and for the first time in many years, was looking forward to Christmas. He had his son back, and Severus was determined that not only would he try to make up for all the time that they'd lost, but that he'd make the most of the future that he and Harry had together.

Harry smirked at him. “You know, I was thinking Severus, that since you're in the Christmas spirit and all now, that maybe you could dress up as Father Christmas, visit the local orphanage and hand out prezzies and candy canes.”

The comforting hand resting on his shoulder lifted to swat him on the back of the head lightly.

Harry grinned.

“You young man,” Severus growled, pointing a long potion-stained finger at Harry, “are getting a little too cheeky for your own good.”

“I try.”

“Yes, and you do it so well,” he smirked.

“So, you said-” Harry began, nibbling on a piece of garlic bread; part of the leftovers from Susan's lasagne dinner the night before, “-that I'd be able to have my friends over during the Christmas holidays?”

Severus peered at Harry from over his teacup. “Harry, I've already told you. This is as much your home as mine. In fact,” he said clinking the cup lightly on the saucer, “you have made this dilapidated shack feel more like home, than it ever did, growing up.”

Harry's eyelids flicked up to catch the shuttered expression that passed over Snape's sallow features. Harry knew that that would be the most he'd get out of the man about his life growing up. Harry felt a wave of shame wash over him, when he realised that it must have taken enormous effort for the controlled man to allow Harry entry to his most painful memories, and to do it because he, Harry, had screwed up; to relive such horrific memories, so that his son would be spared a painful future.

"And you've given me a home...a real home. I came so close," Harry said bitterly, "with Sirius." Harry's throat clogged with emotion.

"I'm sorry, I know that you and Sirius didn't get along," Harry said, his fingers tracing the lacy patterns on the tablecloth. He was afraid to look up and see Severus' reaction at the mention of Sirius.

"Harry," Severus said in a husky voice, "look at me please."

Harry slowly lifted his eyes up, and was surprised to see that Severus' expression was not one of hatred towards his Godfather, as he'd been expecting, but one of regret and concern.

"As your father," Severus began uncomfortably, "I wish for you to feel that you can speak with me about anything that concerns you, without fear of rejection or anger."

Harry was surprised at the sincerity reflected in the man's eyes, especially when the subject matter was Sirius Black; Harry felt a spark of hope. It was difficult to move forward in his relationship with his father, when they were always walking on eggshells. But he still wondered if they would ever be able to discuss certain subjects that would always be painful reminders of his father's tumultuous childhood. He wondered if he was selfish for even bringing it up, and if Severus could seriously ever discuss Sirius, and especially James with him, without losing his temper, or spewing biting sarcasm.

Not only that, as much as he believed his father wanted to be available for him emotionally, by assuring Harry that no subject was taboo, past experience with his father's volatile temper, no matter that he'd curbed it considerably for Harry's sake, had him questioning the wisdom of bringing up any mention of a Marauder.

“I realise that this is rather hypocritical of me, as I've done just that in the past.”

“I know that you have good reason to hate James and Sirius,” Harry said softly, lifting his eyes up to meet Severus' intense stare.

“I have to admit Harry, that in the past, I did indeed hate both Black and Potter, however, my feelings of resentment have abated somewhat, since your reckless decision to bring me back from the grave.”

Harry glared at Severus. “Hey, if I hadn't made that reckless decision, you wouldn't be sitting here now.”

Severus lifted an eyebrow. “You misunderstand me Harry,” he said, lifting his teacup, and taking a sip. “While I still disapprove of the risk that you took to bring me back, and-” he pointed a long finger at Harry, “-if you ever pull a dangerous stunt like that again, and it doesn't kill you, you'll have to deal with me. I am pleased, however,” he said gruffly, “that we have a second chance-- that I have a second chance to be a father.”

Harry smiled crookedly at his father. The stern look was still in place, but Harry could tell that Severus was out of his depth emotionally. For him to admit even that, was a step forward.

“I can't be sorry for what I did Severus, not when I got a father-” he waved his hand, “-and a home out of it.” At his father's stormy expression, Harry quickly added, “but I promise to not be so reckless in the future.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep Potter,” Severus growled.

Harry smirked at him. “Alright, I'll try not to be so reckless.”

Severus' eyes flashed dangerously. “Do not be so nonchalant with your life Harry. As I said, while I'm very grateful to have a chance to make up for all the pain that I've caused you over the years, the outcome might not have been so positive. You yourself, have had to live with the consequences of subjecting yourself to such Dark Magic these past few weeks. While your intentions were noble, you could very well have paid for your recklessness, with your life,” he said in a hard voice.

“I know,” Harry whispered, lowering his eyes.

“That said,” Severus said in a husky voice, “have I told you how very honoured, and humbled I am, that you would take such a risk for a man that has treated you-” a shadow crossed over his face, “less than kindly.”

“Even if I hadn't known that you were my father, you risked your life for me, time and time again, and yeah, you were kind of an arsehole to me, but you sacrificed a lot for me, and I thought that if anyone deserved a second chance, it was you.”

“I was more than,” Severus smirked, “-than a bit of an arsehole to you.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, you were a downright bastard actually.”

The corner of Severus' mouth lifted. “No one can ever accuse you of being at a loss for words.”

Harry grinned.

“Seriously though Harry, in reality, my feelings towards Black changed considerably back in your fifth year, were I to admit it to myself.”

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“How could I continue to hate a man, who without a thought for his own safety, risked his life, to save that of my son's; whether he was aware of the fact or not.”

Harry gaped at his father. “But you hated me then.”

“I never hated you Harry. I had to act like I hated you, and perhaps I performed my job a little better than was needed,” he said sardonically, “but how could I truly hate my own son? My feelings were very ambiguous, I must admit.”

Harry stomach twisted painfully. “It was my fault that Sirius died.”

Harry eyes flickered in surprise, when he felt Severus' callused hand over his.

“It is not your fault,” he said sternly.

“But I shouldn't have gone to the Ministry-” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, -and I should have tried harder with Occlumency.”

Severus took a deep breath. “There are perhaps many mistakes that we all made Harry-” His eyes shadowed, “-myself more so than others. I should not have taunted Black--I should not have ended our lessons-”

“No,” Harry interrupted, “I shouldn't have invaded your privacy. I never apologised for that,” he said, looking at Severus guiltily.

“It serves no purpose Harry, to torture ourselves with self-recriminations. What's done is done, and, if given the chance, there are many things in the past that we would all change, but the reality is that we cannot, and you must remember that Black cared deeply for you, and went to the Ministry of his own free will.”

“But he wouldn't have gone if I hadn't have gone running off to-”

“Harry,” Severus said firmly, “from what Albus explained to me, Kreacher fed you false information. You are not responsible for your Godfather's actions, and yes, perhaps you should have consulted with an adult before rushing off to the Ministry, but,” his voiced hardened, “you are in no way, shape or form, responsible for your Godfather's death. That honour belongs to the Dark Lord and Lestrange, do you understand me?”

Harry nodded. He knew that his father was right, or at least his better sense knew that, but even after two years, there was always an underlining sense of guilt and grief that lay just under the surface of his consciousness. The worst of it was, he'd barely gotten over the pain of losing Cedric, when Sirius died, and then the many deaths that he'd had to deal with since; Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Fred, and too many more to count, that had sacrificed their lives to help bring down Voldemort. Harry felt responsible for them all; he'd always felt as though he had the stain of blood on his hands.

Looking up at the man before him, Harry thought how ironic it was, that the man who been responsible for much of his pain throughout his years at Hogwarts, was now the man who offered him salvation; a refuge from the fresh pain of death and loss. It had been a rough start for them both, and they still had a long road ahead of them, but Harry could not express to the dark man before him, how grateful he was for his quiet strength and unwavering support.

Harry knew that it wasn't easy for a man like Severus to admit when he'd made a mistake and even harder for him to express his feelings, so Harry was very grateful for the effort that the man had made to change.

Harry's eyes shone with emotion. “Thank you for saying that Severus. It means a lot to me.”

“I only speak the truth.”

Harry smiled. “I guess that sometimes I just need it grilled into my thick head.”

Severus smirked. “Happy to oblige.” He rose, and leant over the table; he rapped lightly on the top of Harry's head.

Harry grinned.

Severus began to clear the cutlery and silverware off the table. “We really must be getting back Harry.”

Harry nodded sadly. “Yeah, I guess.”

“They'll be many more weekends like this, I promise.”

Harry looked up into his father's dark eyes. “I hope so.”

--------------

Harry threw his bags on his bed in their quarters, and tried to squash down his disappointment at leaving Spinner's End.

He lay down on his bed, and leant his head back on his soft pillow; he twisted around, and pulled his wand out from the back pocket of his jeans. An unbidden thought of Moody's warning back in fifth year about the hidden dangers to your buttocks at stashing your wand in your back pocket, had Harry chuckling to himself.

Then a lump formed in his throat, as he thought of never seeing the disfigured wizard again, and of all those brave people, who had fought side-by-side with him against Voldemort. He owed all of them so much, and he'd never get the chance to express his gratefulness and appreciation for their loyalty and courageousness in the face of grave danger.

With a flick of his wand, Harry watched absent mindedly, as his bag unzipped on its own, and his belongings floated through the air, landing in their rightful place, as his bureau drawers opened to accommodate them.

Harry's first thought, was how anxious he was to see Ginny, and then the frustration when he realized that he would have to wait till tomorrow morning at breakfast, because he was still on restriction. He cursed himself for screwing up so badly, and with a sigh wondered if he could talk Severus into allowing him to have a few minutes with his friends and Ginny. Knowing his father though, he rather doubted he would bend, even a little.

Harry was right in his assumption.

Severus lifted an eyebrow at his son's audacity. “No, you may not see your friends tonight,” he said sternly. “It would not be fair to the others if I made an exception for you. You will wait till tomorrow at breakfast,” he said firmly.

Harry huffed. “Fine,” he said sulkily.

“Harry,” Severus said warningly.

“Sorry,” Harry said apologetically. He bit down his disappointment. He really didn't want to spoil the lovely weekend they'd had by acting like a prat. He knew that he had only himself to blame for his restriction, and would take his punishment like a man. After all, it was only another week or so, and he would see Ginny tomorrow, and when he did, he would run his fingers through her long, silky hair, and-”

Harry blushed when he realised that Severus was smirking at him, as if reading his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes at his father.

“Are you Leglimizing me?” he asked suspiciously.

The corners of Severus' mouth lifted. “There is no need for that Harry. It is quite apparent what you are thinking about, or should I say whom you are thinking about,” he smirked.

Harry's face felt like it was on fire. No, he would not discuss his love life with his father.

“I was just making some tea, would you care for some?”

Harry nodded. “Yes please.”

Severus squeezed Harry's shoulder. “How about a games of chess?” He smirked. “Let's see if your skill has improved any.”

“Hey! I almost beat you last game.”

Severus lifted an eyebrow at him. “If you wish to believe that.”

Harry huffed.

“Set up the board, and I'll make the tea.”

---------

Three games later, a thoroughly defeated Harry, scowled at his father's smug smirk.

“Perhaps Mr. Weasley could give you some pointers.”

“Very funny,” Harry grumbled.

“I think that I'll retire for the evening. Perhaps you should do so as well,” he said as he began to extinguish the lanterns.

“Yeah, run away before I have a chance to thrash you,” he said over his shoulder.

He heard a deep chuckle. “In your dreams son.”

Harry always felt a warm glow creep up on him, every time his father called him son. Perhaps it was a bit childish of him; he was seventeen now—an adult, but although his heart broke at the thought that he had another father, that he'd never get to know, never be able to thank for his wonderful sacrifice, and a mother whom he'd only ever know from the anecdotes that others recounted to him, he now had a living, breathing father, who he could always count on, who'd always be there for him, even if he was technically an adult now.

That lonely, desperate feeling of having no anchor, no roots, was now replaced by a sense of belonging, and finally feeling as though he'd never feel alone again.

--------

“Harry,” Ginny jumped up excitedly from the Gryffindor table, and almost toppled her chair to the ground in the process. She wrapped her arms around him, and whispered in his ear.

“I missed you,” she said breathlessly.

Harry lifted his hand to her face, and let his fingers brush gently against the smooth, lightly-freckled skin, that felt as smooth as porcelain. He held her for a moment, breathing in the sweet, intoxicating smell of her hair, her lightly floral perfume, and feeling as though he never wanted to let go. Harry couldn't believe that of all the blokes that she could have chosen, she had chosen him.

Harry felt his face heat up, when he realised that they had an audience; Seamus and Neville were sniggering at him, and Ron was glowering. Down the table, Hermione gave him a small sad smile, as her eyes flickered quickly, over to Ron.

“I miss you too,” Harry said in a husky voice.

“I guess that we'd better sit down,” Ginny chuckled, not embarrassed in the least.

One thing that Harry had to credit Ginny with, was that she couldn't care less about the opinions of others. She was her own person, and kept true to her principles. Harry thought that they complimented each other in many ways. Yes...Ginny could be a little hotheaded at times, and was certainly his match. Harry chuckled to himself; Ginny could definitely give as good as she got. She was every inch his equal, and he respected her immensely.

While Ginny was also very brave, as she'd demonstrated from the moment they'd met, she also had an air of calmness, that soothed his jagged nerves, when he was feeling particularly agitated or torn apart from feelings of guilt or helplessness. She was the missing piece of the puzzle; she was his soul-mate.

“Snap!” Harry's eyes blinked. “Earth to Harry,” Ginny's voice teased in a sing-song voice, as the crack of her fingers snapping, jolted Harry back to the present.

“Oh sorry,” Harry said softly. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that no matter how much of an arse I am-” he took her small hand in his, brushing his finger lightly against her soft skin, “-you're still here...by my side,” he said, his voice strangled with emotion.

Harry's stomach swirled when she leant up on her tippy-toes and gently pressed her lips to his.

“Oy! Enough you two,” Seamus said, rolling his eyes. “I'm trying to eat my breakfast here,” he grinned.

Dean smirked. “Yeah, go get a room.”

Harry felt his face heat up; for a moment there, it had felt as though no one else in the world existed.

Harry and Ginny forced themselves to focus on eating their breakfast, while sending messages to each other, with a look of the eye, or a small smile; they communicated in a language that only they understood—it was the language of love.

Breakfast was rather an awkward affair, what with Ron scowling, and shoveling his breakfast in his mouth as quickly as he could, in what was obviously an effort to make his escape as rapidly as could be achieved, while still making certain that he cleaned off every last morsel of food on his plate. He glared hatefully at Hermione, when sounds of laughter drifted over from towards the end of the table, where Hermione was engaged in a conversation with Parvati. Her laughter sounded false to Harry's ears; brittle and forced, and it was obvious to him that she was trying very hard to avoid looking over at this end of the table.

Harry laid his cutlery on his plate, and rose reluctantly, pulling Ginny gently to her feet.

“I've got to go. I forgot my Defence books in the Dungeons, and my father will flip a bird if I come to class, unprepared,” he said, lowering his voice an octave, and raising a dark eyebrow, in the true Snape fashion.

Ginny felt a shiver up her spine; Oh Merlin, Harry, at times, pegged Snape's famous glare, just a tad too much for comfort. Thankfully, he didn't glare when he was kissing her passionately; Ginny tried to erase that image from her retina.

But as Harry leant close, and brushed his lips against her ear, and then lay little kisses down the side of her jaw; making her tingle with anticipation until he reached her mouth, and his lips felt warm and passionate against her own, all comparisons to her stern professor, went out the window.

“See you at lunch,” Harry said, kissing the top of Ginny's silky hair.

Ginny nodded, “You'd better hurry Harry, she said looking at the silver-chained watch that emphasized the fine bones of her tiny wrist.

Harry's heart swelled as he looked down at the petite girl, whose wrists were so delicate and small, that Harry thought that he could probably wrap his large hand around both wrists, and still have room to spare. But this beautiful fragile-looking creature, was far from being a pushover, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at how it was the poor fool who made the mistake of assuming that he could bend this tiny young woman to his will, only to be quite firmly put in his place, by this compact little spit-fire.

“See you later Harry. You'd better hurry if you want to have time to get your books,” she said slyly.

“Oh crap, you're right,” he said, as he turned to, but he swung back quickly, grabbed Ginny firmly by the shoulders, and quickly planted a sound kiss on her parted lips.

He grinned. “See you later.”

Ginny chuckled, as Harry sped off towards the staircase, leading to the Dungeons.

-----------

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness Potter,” Snape barked, not even looking over at his son, who was standing hesitatingly in the doorway; his face warmed as all eyes turned towards him.

Harry scowled at his father's turned back. This whole not showing favourtism to his son in class was getting tiresome. He could use a little favourtism right now.

He scooted quickly to take a seat beside Ron, and gritted his teeth as Adams and Pansy smirked at him. He did notice that since Snape had come down so hard on Adams, after he'd thrashed Harry, Adams was very careful not to show any outward aggression towards him; no Adams had found a new way to torment him, in a way that was very Slytherin.

He threatened other Slytherins into doing his dirty work, and it was so subtle, that no one else would notice, but Harry knew that he was not so forgetful that he'd misplace his quills, or work till the wee hours of the night on an assignment, only to retrieve it from his satchel, and find only an empty parchment staring him in the face. Predictably, his Professors were sceptical of his adamant insistence that the blank parchment had, only this morning, been filled with his chicken scratch.

If it were not for the fact that his father had seen his completed homework, then Harry would have lost points and or been given detention for failing to complete his homework. As it was, he had to listen to a scathing lecture on his lack of organizational skills, and lack of responsibility, not to mention the threat that the next time that he misplaced his assignments he would not be afforded the opportunity to re-do the assignment, and he would receive a zero. As it was, Harry had several assignments that he had to re-do, as well as complete the new homework that he'd been assigned.

The ever-present smirk on Adams' face told Harry that somehow the brawny Slytherin was responsible, but Harry couldn't prove it. Harry also couldn't figure out how he had managed to do it.

Harry began to be suspicious, (as if he hadn't been before) of every Slytherin that walked by him. At every sudden movement, he flinched and his hand flew to his pocket to retrieve his wand. Harry had taken to placing protection charms on his satchel and his possessions but it was driving him mad that everyone thought that he was losing his mind.

Draco, surprisingly, was basically ignoring him, which Harry was thankful for, but he was a little irked that the blond seemed to be sucking up to Severus. Harry rolled his eyes, when every time Hermione raised her hand to answer a question, the Slytherin raised his hand as well. Of course he was thoroughly annoyed that his father completely ignored Hermione to call on Malfoy, who answered every question with alarming accuracy.

Harry was also confident in his own skills in Defence, but had not wanted to compete against Hermione, but it was obvious that Severus was thirsty for an opportunity to award Slytherin points.; a leopard didn't change their spots, Harry thought in a huff.

By the end of the lesson, Harry was already in a snit over his inexplicably over-turned inkwell, his missing assignment, and flopping to the floor on his arse, when his chair moved back on its own just as Harry was about to sit down, but when he looked back to see Malfoy hovering over his father's desk, playing the teacher's favourite, well, that was just the icing on the cake, to add to his already foul mood.

He grabbed his satchel from the back of his chair, and stalked towards the door. His temper crested when he heard Ron growl at Hermione to watch where she was going, when she knocked into him as she was walking out the door.

Harry swung around, his eyes flashing. “That's it!”

He clamped each of them by their upper arms, and propelled the both of them forward, despite the fact that Ron was quite a bit taller, and larger than him.

“What the hell?” the redhead sputtered.

Harry, with adrenalin lending him a strength he didn't know he possessed, dragged both Hermione and Ron, up the Enchanted Staircase.

Reflecting on it later, Harry surmised that both his friends must have been in shock, not to have protested more vehemently.

Harry dragged them down the corridor, until he came to the deserted corridor that housed the Room of Requirement. Harry concentrated on what he wanted, while still clamping firmly his friends squirming arms. Suddenly, the smooth wall morphed into a doorway, and Harry grabbed the handle, opened the door and shoved his friends into the room before him.

Hermione's eyes grew wide, as she licked her lips nervously. “Harry?”

Ron's freckled face flushed with anger. “What are you playing at Harry? Why did you bring us here?”

“I've had enough of you two acting like children. You are not leaving here until you make up,” Harry said, crossing his arms belligerently across his chest.

Ron's eyes flashed dangerously, as he shoved Harry aside. “Like hell we're not.” He turned to glare at Hermione. “I've got nothing to say to this traitor.”

Ron's eyes widened in horror, as his hand that had clutched onto the door handle, was suddenly grasping at air.

He spun around angrily. “What did you do with the door Potter?” he screeched.

“I didn't do anything, but obviously the room has decided that you're not leaving until you resolve this ridiculous argument.”

It was like the air blew out of Ron's sails. “She betrayed us mate. She snitched on us to McGonagall and Snape. How could you just forgive her like that?”

“Because friends take care of friends Ron, and I realised that Hermione was only taking care of us. We've been friends for going on seven years now. We've been through hell and back, and I'm not going to let you throw it away because of your stupid pride,” he said through gritted teeth.

“A true friend is one that will do what is best for the one they care about, regardless of the consequences,” Harry said softly. “I think it took amazing courage for Hermione to go to McGonagall, knowing that we'd be royally pissed off at her when we found out,” he said with a crooked smile.

Hermione twisted her fingers in the fabric of her jumper. “Ron, I am sorry, but I care about you and Harry, and I take my responsibilities as a Prefect seriously. The party was spiraling out of control, and you two were dangerously inebriated, I felt I had no choice but to seek help. I'm sorry if you felt betrayed, but I'd rather you'd be furious with me, than come to harm.”

Hermione's eyes crinkled. “I care about you and Harry. I couldn't bear it if I lost you two. I'd do it again if I had to,” she said firmly. “I'd never forgive myself if I'd lost you two.”

Ron raked his fingers through his flaming hair.

Hermione came to stand before him, and hesitatingly took his hands in hers. His eyes flickered with emotion.

“I love you Ron,” she whispered. “I'd never purposely do anything to hurt you.”

“I know,” he said in a strangled voice, and pulled her close to his chest.

They stood that way for a few moments, before Hermione pushed Ron away suddenly, exclaiming in a horrified voice, “We're late for Transfiguration!”

Harry groaned. McGonagall was going to roast them.

Harry stared at the wall, and clenched his eyes shut. We need a door...we need a door.

Suddenly, the door appeared, and the three of them ran in a gallop towards the Transfiguration classroom.

At the click of the door, thirty heads turned their way.

McGonagall glared at them. “The bell rang ten minutes ago. Miss Granger, I'm surprised at you,” she said sharply.

Hermione blushed, and hurriedly took a seat.

“Five points from each of you.”

Harry groaned. At this rate, the House Cup would definitely go to Slytherin this year. Severus would be gloating.

------

After a long, drawn-out kiss to Ginny, Harry reluctantly parted ways with her to spend the rest of the evening with his father.

Upon entering their quarters, Harry dragged himself over to the sofa, and dramatically threw himself down on it; he plunked his bag on the floor with a thud.

He closed his eyes, and felt some of the weariness wash away from him. It had been a rather trying day, and surprisingly enough, he was happy to be at home. It was strange that, he thought; just when exactly, had he started to think of his quarters with Severus as his home...as his refuge he didn't know, but his father's presence had a way of calming him, and making him feel safe.

He heard the clink of cutlery, and a thump. His eyelids fluttered open, to reveal his father standing over him, with a worried look on his face, and a steaming cup of tea sitting on the coffee table.

“Are you feeling unwell Harry? You look rather pale.”

Harry pulled himself up in a sitting position.

“Just had a rough day, that's all,” he said wearily.

Harry lifted the cup of tea off the saucer and cradling the cup, took a sip of the wonderfully fruity beverage; he felt the warm liquid slide down his throat, and heat up his insides. How did Severus always know what would make him feel better?

“Thanks,” Harry said gratefully.

Severus narrowed his eyes at him. He suspected that there was something else going on that Harry wasn't telling him. He knew that Harry was used to handling things on his own, and after many years of feeling let down by the adults in his life, a crime of which he was the most guilty of, Harry was loathe to confide in him, preferring to deal with his problems on his own.

Severus fervently hoped that with time, Harry would feel more comfortable confiding in him, and trusting that he only had his son's best interests at heart. Severus wasn't a fool though; trust took time to build, and he knew that he had treated Harry very badly in the past, and that old wounds took time to heal.

Severus sat down in the chair across from Harry, and took a sip of his own tea. He placed it down carefully upon the saucer, and looked at Harry with his dark eyes.

“If you feel the need to talk-” he began stiffly.

Harry smiled. “Thanks, but for now, this is something that I'd like to deal with on my own. But I'll keep your offer in mind.”

Severus nodded. “Very well, but if you feel you're in over your head, you are to come to me,” he said sternly.

A smile tugged at the corner of Harry's mouth. He knew that this was Severus' way of saying that the door was always open. The man was more transparent than he knew, but of course Harry would keep that little observation to himself.

“Uh, I was wondering...” Harry began hesitatingly. He fidgeted nervously; running his hand through his dark hair.

“Yes,” Severus prompted.

“Well...” Harry licked his lips nervously, “-they are having an information session on Friday on the Auror Training Program, and-”

“And you need to go to the Ministry—correct?”

Harry nodded. “Is there any chance that we could go into London?”

Hogwarts closed for the holidays on Thursday; Christmas was on a Monday this year, and Harry needed to still buy his Christmas presents, and he had something very special in mind for Severus.

Severus took another sip of his tea, before answering Harry.

“Yes, that would suit me as well. I need to go to the Ministry as well,” he said slowly.

Harry blinked. “You do?”

“Yes, I need to file some paperwork with the Patent office for some of my original formulations.”

“Great. I need to buy a few Christmas presents as well.”

“Very well then. We shall both to the Ministry, then perhaps we could go to Hogsmeade afterwards and you may complete your Christmas shopping there. Afterwards, we'll Apparate to Spinner's End. Does that sound satisfactory?”

“Sounds great,” Harry said, his mood lifting considerably. “That'll give us enough time to decorate for Christmas,” Harry said happily.

Severus groaned. Oh Merlin, his house was going to be transformed to look like Father Christmas' quarters at the North Pole, and he had foolishly agreed to allow himself to be surrounded by noisy Gryffindors during the Holidays. What had he gotten himself into?

The feeling of excitement for the Christmas holidays to commence on Thursday throughout the castle was so tangible, that Harry could almost reach out and touch it; the air simply sizzled with it. And it was not just the student population either, that were bewitched with the Christmas spirit. The entire staff was brimming with excitement and anticipation. It was as if the past year of triumph, pain and loss, had culminated in this one moment of finally being able to exult in the pleasure of living without the threat of retaliation from Voldemort's wrath.

Severus was quite shocked with his own new attitude towards the holiday. In the past, he'd always been the only staff member to hibernate in his quarters at the mere mention of the holiday. Of course, the Headmaster always insisted that the full staff be present to celebrate Christmas dinner, as there was always a straggle of students who remained behind for whatever reasons their families could not have them home for the holidays.

Severus was always the ultimate Ebenezer Scrooge, and held firm to the man's credo of Bah Humbug, as his personal motto. But now, Severus found that he was actually looking forward to the holiday, and it was all because of Harry; all because of his new-found son.

-------------

"So am I officially released from my sentence?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Yes, you are a free man," he said dryly.

"Great!" Harry said, flinging his book bag onto the couch. "I'm going to the Tower."

"Are you sleeping in the Tower this evening?"

Harry hesitated with his hand on the door handle. He'd enjoyed spending time with Severus these past couple of weeks; both at Spinner's End, and strangely enough in Severus' quarters. He wouldn't admit it to Severus, but it hadn't been the worse punishment that he'd ever received; in fact, there were many moments where he'd forgotten that he was even being punished at all, because he'd enjoyed special moments with his father, getting to know each other, and enjoying the feeling of having a real home, for the first time in his life. But, of course he was going to spend the next couple of weeks in that new home, and getting to know his new father even better, and he wanted one last night with his friends, after not seeing too much of them for the past couple of weeks. And then there was Ginny...

Harry looked up through his long lashes, at his father.

Severus could see the uncertainty in Harry's expression. "Harry, we have two weeks together. Spend the evening with your friends, and your girlfriend."

At Harry's hesitation, Severus pointed his finger at the closed door. "Go," he commanded.

Harry grinned. "Yes sir."

"Just make sure that you're packed and ready to leave, directly after breakfast."

Harry nodded.

"Oh, and Harry-"

Harry whipped his head around, and lifted a questioning eyebrow at his father, in true Snape fashion.

"Yeah?"

Snape smirked. "Behave."

"I'll do my best, oh father dear."

Severus shook his head. He couldn't stop a small smile from touching his thin lips. Father? When the hell had he slipped into the role so easily? It boggled the mind. Severus Snape, Greasy Git of the Dungeons, father to the Boy-Who-Lived! Who would have ever thought? And who would ever have thought that he'd actually feel this fierce, possessive feeling towards the boy that he'd thought he'd hated, barely two months ago. The same boy, that he'd convinced himself was arrogant and spoilt, and though he'd known since Harry's fifth year, that they shared the same blood, Severus hadn't really believed it psychologically. It had been too easy to fool himself into believing that the boy, who was the spitting image of James Potter, was really his enemy's son. How far they'd come in such a short time.

------

"Hey Harry," Ron greeted him with a big smile, when he entered the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry threw himself down on the couch, and crossed his trainer-clad feet on the coffee table, emulating Ron. "Hi mate."

Harry noticed that the Common Room was uncommonly devoid of students; normally after classes and before dinner, the Common Room was brimming with students, dumping their school supplies, book bags, and exchanging their school uniforms for more comfortable attire.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked curiously.

Ron shrugged. "Well, I guess since the Hogwarts Express is leaving early tomorrow morning, everyone's saying last minute goodbyes, exchanging gifts and all."

Harry nodded. "So how about you? Are you looking forward to the holidays? Do you think that your mum is still mad at you?"

Ron scowled. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm hoping that she's had time to cool down a bit."

"Yeah, at least your mum had a chance to cool down before you have to face her wrath. I got the full force of it with Severus."

Ron sighed. "Yeah, I suppose, but it's still hard not knowing what to expect, you know."

"Yeah, that is the hardest part, isn't it?" Harry agreed. "Well, if you're not grounded or anything, Severus said you're welcome to come for a visit during the hols,"

A shadow crossed over Ron's freckled face. "Yeah, well...I don't imagine mum and dad are going to be too much in the Christmas spirit--what with Fred's death and all."

"No, I don't suppose not," Harry said quietly.

As excited as Harry was for the holidays, he knew that for the Weasleys, this was going to be a very painful time of year. Harry knew that Severus had extended an open invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and the rest of the family, to visit over the holidays, but Harry didn't hold out much hope that they would accept the invitation. But as awkward as Ron felt with Severus, Harry knew that if he was allowed to visit, that he and Ginny would jump at the chance. Harry felt his excitement mount again, despite the sad subject matter.

"Hey, you two," Ginny's lilting voice broke through the somber atmosphere.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He wondered if it would always be this way with Ginny. If he would always feel that thrill of excitement, every time she walked through the door, no matter how long they'd been together.

Harry smiled softly at her. "Hi yourself."

Hermione came in just behind her, and smiled shyly at Ron.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione settled on the couch, until Ron's stomach growled, at which time the four headed to the Great Hall for dinner.

--------

Harry's stomach fluttered, when he walked into the Great Hall Friday morning, with his arm draped over Ginny's slender shoulders. Hundreds of flickering candles floated in the air, and large snowflakes fell from the ceiling, dropping on the tip of his nose. There was a Christmas tree at the head of each House table, sparkling in the colour of that particular house. And to the right of the staff table, was a large Christmas tree, decorated in the colours of all the Houses.

Harry was, in a way, sad to leave Hogwarts for Christmas, as it had been his tradition to always spend the holiday at his first home, but since this was the first Christmas that not only would he be able to enjoy the holiday, without worrying about what Voldemort would do next--who he'd target next.

Harry smirked at his father's bored expression, when he stared up at the Head Table. Severus caught Harry's smug grin, and he scowled at his insolent son. Yes...his colleagues were boring him out of his mind, with their mindless chatter about the upcoming holidays, but the boy didn't have to mock his obvious discomfort. Although his interest in the holidays had risen because of Harry, that didn't mean that he wanted to listen to Hagrid, the big lug, blather on about how he loved Christmas, or about how big Grawp was getting and their plans to celebrate the holidays. And of course, he had to put up with Minerva's knowing looks and praising words about how proud she was of him for the way that he had risen to the challenge and was doing a fine job of being a father to Harry.

Severus devoured his breakfast quickly to escape his overly-enthusiastic colleagues, and made his exit with haste. As he swept past the Gryffindor table, his robes flapping in the air behind him, he snapped his fingers at Harry, and barked out a gruff, "Time to leave."

Harry quirked a smile at Ginny, who looked at him curiously.

"Too much Christmas spirit," Harry explained, pulling the surprised girl, up from her seat and into his arms.

After planting a sound kiss firmly on her parted lips, Harry whispered in her ear. "I'll see you in a couple of days?" he asked in a throaty voice.

"Of course," she said breathlessly. "But how are we going to contact each other?"

"Severus said that he hooked up Spinners End to the Floo network, so I'll contact you."

Ginny nodded.

Harry glanced over at Hermione and Ron, who thankfully, were on much better terms these days, and were cuddling up. "You both are coming too, right?" Harry asked hopefully.

Ron's freckled face, lit up in a big grin. "Of course mate. Even if I have to sneak away from my mum to do it."

Harry chuckled.

"You've got your work cut out for you mate."

"Harry," a stern voice beckoned from in back of him, where Severus was standing with his arms folded across his chest, and glaring impatiently at his son. "It's time to leave."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm coming."

"He's just really anxious to get to Spinner's End, so he can decorate the Christmas tree."

"Harry!"

Harry figured that he'd better go put the impatient man out of his misery.

Harry waved, and reluctantly let go of Ginny, with a small, regretful small.

"Bye guys. See you soon."

------

Harry and Severus Apparated to a secluded alleyway in a seedy part of downtown London. It would seem that Severus felt just as uncomfortable as he did, Harry thought, if the speed with which the man was stalking down the streets was any indication. Past the homeless men, who eyed them suspiciously, as they warmed their hands over the rusted rubbish bins; flames licking the garbage and old tires. The smell of unwashed bodies, and alcohol was pungent, and Harry felt a pang of pity. He wanted to throw out a few pounds of his Muggle money, but Severus, correctly interpreted his gesture, and grabbed him firmly by the upper arm, dragging him to a quiet middle-class neighbourhood, lined with neat little houses that looked exactly alike--reminding Harry of Privet Drive.

"Have you no sense of self preservation boy?" Severus snapped.

Harry scowled at his father. "What?"

Severus shook his long lanky hair, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stared down into his son's youthful green eyes, and thought how, after all that the boy had been through, the boy was still so naive and determined to save the world. What Harry didn't understand, was that sometimes, there were those who either, couldn't be saved, or didn't wish to be. When, along the way, had he become so hard and embittered?

Although Severus was grateful that Harry hadn't become jaded, like he was, he still thought that the boy needed to toughen up, and guard himself against heartache. Harry was the most selfless, thoughtful person, aside from Lily that he'd ever met, and he was loath to change that, but he also wanted to protect his son.

"Harry," Severus said with as much patience as he could drum up. "I know that you feel badly for those men, but some have been on the streets for many years, and many are mentally ill. It would be inadvisable to approach them."

"I know. It's just, as you know Hermione, Ron and I, spent the summer looking for Horcruxes, and," he said, raking his fingers through his hair, "I just know what it's like to be cold, and hungry."

"I understand that Harry. The plight of the homeless is truly tragic, but perhaps there is a safer way that you can help those less fortunate then yourself."

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows. "How?"

Severus couldn't help but think that his son was so very different from himself, and he hoped fervently that his son never lost that hopeful look in his eyes, and thought how very young Harry looked at this moment.

"Perhaps volunteering at a homeless shelter; serving up Christmas dinner, that sort of thing. At least you'd be in a controlled environment, with professionals who could protect you, should any of them become aggressive."

Harry looked sceptical. "You really think that they would have hurt me, if I'd tried to give them money?

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Harry, many homeless people have been living on the streets for years, and out here, it's every man for himself. They have to be like that to survive. Perhaps you could donate money through an organization or homeless shelter, but to approach any of them on the streets...out here--" he motioned in back of him, "would be foolhardy and dangerous, and I want your word, that you'll not do something so reckless."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Severus' lips thinned. "Despite everything that you've been through Harry, you still are too trusting, and it's through sheer luck, that you've managed not to get yourself killed."

A brief flash of emotion shone in Severus' eyes, and he spun around quickly, and began walking again briskly, and Harry's shorter legs strode to keep up.

"Severus? Slow down."

Severus continued his hurried walk until they reached downtown London; walking towards the nearest tube, Severus finally stopped, and reached into his trousers' pocket, handing Harry some Muggle change.

Harry studied Severus' pale features; the way his lips thinned, and the lines were drawn taught across his face. But his eyes were clouded with an emotion that Harry couldn't pinpoint.

He wondered if he'd pissed his father off somehow, and a twinge of disappointment twisted at his gut. This Christmas was supposed to be perfect.

"Severus, is something wrong?"

Severus's dark eyes studied Harry intensely for a few moments, and then he placed his long fingers on Harry's slender shoulder, and squeezed it lightly.

"No Harry," he said gruffly. "Nothing at all. I'm just learning that fatherhood is much more complicated then I'd ever fathomed."

Harry looked at his father quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Severus shook his head. "Nothing son. Let's go, shall we?" he said, guiding Harry gently, but firmly forward, towards the stairs that descended underground.

-------------

Harry's stomach swooped as the bottom of the telephone booth dropped and they landed with a thud in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic Building. Harry looked around; nothing much had changed since he'd last been here. His gut twisted painfully; he'd never be able to step a foot here, without envisioning the last time he'd seen Sirius--the look of disbelief and horror, as he fell through the veil.

"Harry! Severus!"

Harry looked up in surprise to see a familiar face making his over to where he and Severus were standing.

"Hi Mr. Weasley," Harry greeted the older man.

Mr. Weasley's eyes crinkled when he smiled. Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy, as he noticed how the lines around his eyes had deepened, and how the life seemed to have gone out of his pale eyes. Gone was the jovial, easy-going man, who seemed as though he hadn't a care in the world. Mr. Weasley seemed to have aged overnight, and the pain of grief clung to him, like an old blanket.

Severus nodded stiffly. "Good day Arthur."

"You too Severus... Harry."

He furrowed his brow. "What brings you two to the Ministry?"

"I have some business with the Patent Office, and Harry is here for the Auror Training information session."

"Oh yes of course. So you're still planning on becoming an Auror then?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

"I would have thought that you'd had quite enough of Dark Wizard hunting Harry."

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

How could Harry find the words to say to Mr. Weasley that he never wanted to lose anyone else he cared about, ever again, and if he could make a difference, and use the knowledge that he'd gained by fighting Voldemort, to ensure that never again would such a Dark Wizard terrorize innocent people, then Harry would do everything in his power to keep those he loved...those he had left, safe.

"Harry feels that he can put his knowledge and experience to use, to make the world safer," Severus explained, while clenching his fists, till his knuckles were white.

Harry's throat clogged with emotion. "I'm sorry that I couldn't save Fred," Harry whispered.

Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and squeezed it lightly.

"Harry, you have nothing to apologise for. You've done more to keep my family safe, than any man twice your age, and-" he said in a strangled voice. "Fred was an adult, who made the choice to fight for what he believed in, as did you and I'm proud of my son." He looked over at Severus, and said quietly," And any father would be proud to have you as their son as well Harry."

"I am," Severus said gruffly.

He was extremely proud of Harry for his bravery, but if truth be told, Severus would have preferred that Harry find a nice, safe career, like what Arthur was doing. Yes...Harry had lots of experience with Muggle Artefacts. Perhaps he could become Arthur's apprentice, and teach him the mysteries of how a toaster works!

Harry blushed.

"Thank you Mr. Weasley."

"Well, we must be going Arthur, but I hope that you will take me up on my invitation to join us for Christmas Dinner."

Arthur sighed.

"I will try to convince Molly, Severus. I think that it would do her good to get out of the house. Unfortunately, she's taking Fred's death particularly hard, and she stubbornly refuses to snap out of it."

He traced his pale lips with his finger. "Perhaps I should force the issue-- if only for the other children's' sake. Fred would not want this-- he would want us to get on with our lives."

Severus simply inclined his head. What did one say to a man who had just lost his son? That strange feeling in his stomach returned, and as he looked down at Harry, he felt a strong desire to beg the boy not to do anything else that would foolishly endanger his life. Hell...he wanted to lock him away in his room, until he gave up this ridiculous notion to become an Auror. What the hell was the boy thinking? How could he do this him? The thought of losing Harry now, was just too painful to bear; not when they'd just found each other.

----------

After Mr. Weasley left, there was an awkward silence, and with sudden clarity, Harry realised that his father had grown paler, if that was possible, during the conversation with Mr. Weasley. It all made sense suddenly.

"You won't lose me Severus," Harry said quietly.

"What are you on about?" he snapped.

Harry picked at a loose thread on his jumper. "I won't get myself killed like Fred. I promise that I'll be more careful."

Severus' dark eyes narrowed. "Do you even know how?"

Harry squashed down a stab of resentment. He was beginning to understand that when Severus was faced with unfamiliar emotions, that it often manifested itself as anger; the only emotion that he was comfortable with.

"I'm trying to change, and think before I do things." Harry raked his hand through his dark hair, "but it's hard to change. I promise I'll do my best though."

Severus nodded.

"I appreciate that," he said stiffly. "Now, I've got much to do, so off you go then."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "I'll see you later."

Harry turned to leave.

"Harry," Severus' deep voice called after him. "I'll meet you here in two hours," he said, taking out his pocket watch.

Harry rolled his eyes. Did the man have to plan every hour of the day? Didn't he know the meaning of spontaneity? Oh right! This was Severus, anal-retentive, Snape, we were talking about!

"Yeah, two hours," he said aloud.

"Very well then," Severus said, shoving his watch back into his trousers' pocket, looking like he wanted nothing more than to wrap his robes around himself protectively, as was his custom.

Harry fought to hide a grin. The man was lost without his long black robes to hide in.

----------

"I'll light a fire in the grate, and put some tea on," Severus said, pointing at Harry's bags. "Why don't you go put your things away?"

"Yeah, a cup of tea sounds great," Harry said wearily.

After taking care of their respective errands at the Ministry, and then hopping from one store to the next, in search of Christmas presents, Harry was happy to finally be home. Home...how he loved that word, and for once in his life, it really meant something.

Harry threw himself down on his large, four-poster bed; not bothering to take his trainers off. He closed his eyes for only a moment.

"Harry?"

Severus quirked his lips, as he watched Harry's chest rise and fall, in a slow, rhythmic pattern. He stood in the doorway for several moments, just watching the sleeping boy, and thinking to himself that Harry looked like he was about thirteen-years-old--all curled up in a ball. He shook his head; it wasn't possible that his son was now an adult; and he was powerless to protect him against life.

For the thousandth time, Severus swallowed his regret that he'd missed all the important milestones in Harry's life. His only consolation was that, judging by the contented look on Harry's face, that he had given Harry some happiness, albeit a little late.

---------

Splat!

Severus scowled at his son, and rubbed the back of his head.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked sourly.

Harry grinned maliciously. "Not quite, and whirled another snowball in the direction of his father's overly-large nose."

His grin turned to a scowl, however, when his father smirked, inconspicuously retrieved his wand from his trousers' pocket, and the snowball suddenly froze in mid-air, and as fast as he had hurled it at his father, the snowball had now changed course and was spinning in his direction now.

Two minutes later, Harry was the one rubbing his head, and glaring at his father.

This was war!

By the time, they had returned to the house, dragging a seven-foot Christmas tree behind them, Harry and Severus' clothes were sopping wet. They deposited the Christmas tree in the front porch, and went to change into dry clothes.

An hour later, both men were warming up before a crackling fire; Harry sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows, much to Severus' disgust, and Severus sipping on a glass of fine brandy.

Harry stared at the large, undecorated tree with awe. Even bare, the tree was majestic; its branches, lush and deep green, and the smell of tangy pine filled the air. Harry looked curiously at the boxes of decorations that Severus had retrieved from the attic.

"Where did you get these decorations?"

"Some of them were passed down to my father, from my grandmother, but-" he paused, a pained expression lining his harsh features, "however--my father refused to celebrate Christmas, and for the most part they remained in the attic. One year, when I was about ten, my mother decided that enough was enough, and put up a small tree and began to decorate it-"

Severus turned away, to stare at the flames licking the logs in the grate.

"-needless to say, my father was not pleased."

"What did he do?" asked Harry in a croaky voice.

Severus traced the rim of his glass. "He knocked the tree down, destroying many of the decorations. My mother managed to gather up some of the broken pieces, and unbeknownst to my father, repaired them with magic."

They've remained in the attic ever since.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

Severus turned around to look at his son.

"That box over there, contains decorations from your grandmother: Lily's mother," he said softly.

Harry's eyes widened. "My grandmother?"

"Every year, your mother's parents invited me into their home to celebrate Christmas. They were every bit as kind as your mother."

"Hmph, so what happened with Aunt Petunia then?" Harry scoffed.

Severus smirked. "I always thought that Petunia was genetically mutated from an ass. The resemblance is certainly remarkable"

Harry's hot chocolate splattered everywhere.

Who knew Severus had a sense of humour?

--------

Harry felt like a little kid.

He glanced at the clock, and groaned. It was still only four-thirty in the morning. Shadows from the moonlight danced on the walls of Harry's maroon and beige coloured walls. He couldn't help it. He just couldn't sleep any more. Harry hadn't been this excited for Christmas since he'd been a first year at Hogwarts. He felt as though a thousand butterflies were fluttering around inside his stomach.

Finally, admitting defeat, he flipped the covers back and swung his legs around into a sitting position. The fire in the grate had gone out, and Harry's toes were chilled. He slipped his feet into his slippers, and grabbed his bathrobe off the floor where he'd flung it the night before. He chuckled to himself, when he thought of what Severus would say to him; the man was positively obsessive compulsive when it came to neatness.

Harry kneeled on the floor, and fumbled under the bed, until he found what he was looking for. He straightened up, clutching his presents to his chest. A grin spread across his face, when he thought about his father opening his present. He hoped that it wasn't too soon in their relationship for this, but Harry hoped that his present would mean as much to Severus as it did to him.

Harry plugged in the Christmas tree lights, wrapped his blanket snugly around himself; and settled himself on the couch; staring up at the plethora of brightly-coloured lights and glass-spun Christmas ornaments.

Harry and Severus had spent several hours decorating the tree and Harry had hung garland around the mantelpiece; Severus had looked at him incredulously, when Harry had insisted that he hang two large, wool socks as well. Harry had stuffed them with some little goodies that he had picked up in London for his father. Some were rare potions ingredients, and small bottles of expensive liqueur that he knew that his father favored, as well as some dark chocolates (the only kind that his father would eat). Harry had, much to Severus' dismay, also insisted on wrapping garland, and large, Poinsettias around the polished, wooden banister of the staircase.

Severus groaned about silly Gryffindors who dreamt about Sugar Plum fairies, and Father Christmas, but Harry caught a small look of approval on his father's sallow features, when the man thought that he wasn't looking.

"Harry."

Harry looked up at his father through bleary eyes. Severus was dressed already in dark grey pants, and a deep green turtleneck. He looked positively bizarre, Harry thought--very Muggle-ish

"What are you doing out here?"

Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and grinned up at his father.

"I was too excited. I couldn't sleep."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "I see. Well, let's have breakfast and-"

"What?" Harry shrieked. "I can't possibly eat! It's Christmas!"

"Oh really," Severus drawled--looking around at the Christmas decorations, adorning every nook and cranny of Spinner's End, "I hadn't noticed," he said dryly.

Severus' first thought, when Harry jumped up from the couch, and grinning broadly, made a beeline for the presents piled up under the tree, was that the boy's cheeks would surely be ache by the end of the day, from the way that his mouth was stretched so widely in a permanent smile. But Severus had to admit that being inundated with Christmas spirit was well worth it, to see the utterly content look on his son's face. The boy had faced so much heartache in his short life; he deserved this happiness, and he had given so freely of his devotion and affection and asked so little in return.

"Very well then," he said, tugging up his trousers, as he sat down on the couch.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said, handing Severus a present- wrapped in dark green wrapping paper, and tied with silver ribbon.

Severus smirked. "Slytherin colours Harry?"

"Yeah well, don't get used to it!"

Harry tapped his foot impatiently, as Severus meticulously untied the ribbon, peeled back the paper, and seriously irritated Harry. For Merlin's sake, wrapping paper was meant to be ripped apart in joyous abandonment, not in tortuous fashion; as the man delicately pulled back the paper, with his long, potion-stained finger, so bloody slowly that it would try the patience of a saint.

Severus Snape was a man that prided himself on always being in control; of never showing emotion, and never revealing his true feelings, but how one green-eyed, dark-haired boy of merely seventeen-years-old, managed to slowly unravel the tightly-controlled, disciplined emotions that he thought he'd buried long ago, Severus wasn't sure, but he felt as though his breath had been stolen from, as he stared down into the antique wooden-framed parchment that read:

By order of the Ministry of Magic,

Department of Magical Monikers,

We Hereby declare,

That the wizard borne:

Harry James Potter,

Shall henceforth, from this day forward, be known by the legal moniker of:

Harry James Potter Snape

"Harry," Severus said huskily, "I don't know what to say. I'm truly at a loss for words."

Harry bit his bottom lip. "You don't like it?"

"On the contrary Harry. I'm-I'm honoured that you would wish to carry my name."

"I hope that you don't mind that I still kept James' name too. I mean, he was my father too," he explained awkwardly, "and, I-"

"Harry, you don't have to explain. I understand completely. Of course you would want to honour the man that sacrificed his life for you."

"Also," Harry said uncomfortably, "it would be a little strange and, not to mention confusing, for me to start using another name at seventeen, and-"

"Harry," Severus said firmly, "You have given me great pleasure today, so please stop this incessant apologising. It is a very annoying habit," he snapped.

"Sor-, uh, I mean, okay, yeah." he said sheepishly.

"If you're quite finished your babbling," Severus said dryly, "then I too have something for you."

Harry snorted when Severus, rose and retrieved a present from under the Christmas tree; it was wrapped in maroon paper, with a gold ribbon.

"Like father--like son?" he smirked.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Open the present," he commanded softly.

Harry, despite his impatience earlier with Severus' methodical unwrapping of his present, found that his fingers also slowly peeled back the wrapping paper; he wanted to savour every moment; it was the first time in his seventeen years, that he was able to open a Christmas present from a living parent, and he wanted to remember every detail.

Harry gasped.

It looked as though Harry wasn't the only one who had used misdirection that day at the Ministry.

A similar wooden frame held an official document, also from the Ministry of Magic, which read:

Acknowledgement of Paternity

This document, by decree of the Ministry of Magic,

Bears witness to the fact, that Severus, Tobias Snape acknowledges his paternity of the child,

Harry James Potter, borne to Lily Anne Potter (nee Evans),

And is recognised as the sole legal heir of Severus Tobias Snape,

Thus inheriting all assets and properties, in the event of his death.

"I think that I'm the one who's at a loss for words now," Harry said, emotion overwhelming him.

Harry couldn't stop staring at the words. Harry couldn't believe that Severus had actually made it official; acknowledged him not only publicly--but legally? That was a big step for someone like Severus Snape.

"This really is the happiest Christmas that I've ever had. Thanks....Dad," Harry said huskily.

Harry ran his fingers over the smooth parchment, and stared down at the words. He'd known for weeks now, that he was Severus Snape's son, but somehow seeing the words written in fancy black calligraphy made it all that more real.

He stared up at his father, through moist eyes, and saw the raw emotion shining in Severus' dark eyes, that he couldn't hide, despite the familiar mask of harshness that he wore so well.

Dad. The word had just slipped out. Harry looked up through his dark lashes and caught the expression of...yes, shock, but unexpected pleasure as well, that the man was not quick enough to hide. It had just felt right saying those words, at that moment. Harry had struggled with it for weeks; a part of him had held onto his reluctance to give himself over to the feeling of caring about someone so deeply, lest it all be taken away from him.

The feeling wouldn't be denied however much he tried though. Every action that Severus had taken in the past few weeks, since his secret had been revealed, had brought home to Harry, just how much the man meant to him, and how much his father really cared about him. Oh, anyone could argue that Severus Snape was immune to caring about anyone and that he was incapable of deep love, so disciplined were his emotions. But Harry knew better. Even when his father snapped at him, or doled out a particularly harsh punishment in class for a minor infraction, or reprimanded him for indulging in alcohol because it might overtake him, and control his life; Harry could tell that his father's harshness, belied his truest emotions.

As Harry's eyes swept around the room, he thought his heart would burst out of his chest cavity, so powerful were the emotions that overwhelmed him. From the beautiful, majestic Christmas tree that stood so proudly in the centre of the parlour; displaying it's lush branches, adorned with hand-made crystal decorations, that glistened with the colours of the rainbow, and the tinsel dripping from the tips, to the candles that floated above each branch that to a Muggle would appear to be a normal candle dripping wax down its stem, but to a wizard, the candles seemed to float in mid-air, and produced no heat whatsoever.

The fire crackled in the hearth, taking the bite out of the early winter-morning chill. Through the frosted window panes, on the far side of the room, Harry could see large snowflakes falling down, blanketing the countryside in sparkling whiteness. Harry closed his eyes for a moment; he just wanted to savour this moment. This was what he'd imagined Christmas to be like, while he was locked in his cupboard and the rest of his family celebrated.

A deep chuckle from Severus startled Harry from his musings.

"I think that it's time you opened your other presents."

"Other presents?"

Severus smiled at Harry. His silky black hair framed his young, pale face, and his large emerald eyes still held the vigour and innocence of youth. Sheer pleasure emanated from the boy, and had pulled Severus out of his self-imposed misery; it gave him something that he thought he'd lost in his youth. Seeing the world through the eyes of his son, had pulled Severus from his jaded outlook on life. Severus was struck again by how little it took to please Harry; a throwback from his life with the Dursleys, Severus thought bitterly.

"Yes, your other presents," he drawled.

A wide grin lit up Harry's face.

Scrambling under the tree and grabbing a handful of presents, he made his way back to sit, cross-legged on the floor in front of Severus, who was leaning forward looking down at Harry with a smirk on his face.

Harry ripped open the next present with renewed frenzy, and pulled out a new satchel. He looked up at Severus questioningly.

"Uh...it's nice, but I already have one."

Severus raised one eyebrow.

"Ah yes, but I assure you, that this bag is very much unlike the other," he said sardonically.

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows. "How so?"

Severus picked up his teacup, took a sip, and leant back comfortably on the sofa—crossing his legs; the corner of his thin lips lifted in a small smirk.

"Open that compartment there," he said, pointing one long callused finger at the satchel.

Harry gingerly lifted up the corner of the soft tan leather flap to the largest compartment.

"Ouch!" Harry screeched as his finger was zapped by a small jolt of what felt like an electrical current, stinging the tip of his finger.

He scowled at his father. "What the hell kind of Christmas present is that?" he growled—nursing his smarting finger.

"The kind that could save your sanity...perhaps even your life," Severus said leaning forward to place the cup back on the saucer.

Harry's green eyes flicked up to meet his father's obsidian ones.

"How did you know?" Harry asked quietly.

"Harry, there is very little, in or out of the classroom that escapes my notice," he said dryly.

"Why didn't you intervene then, or give me detentions for something that wasn't my fault?"

Severus pressed his long fingers into his furrowed brow. "I apologise Harry, but frankly, I was hoping that you'd open up to me. I was loathe to interfere when you were obviously so adamant of handling the matter yourself."

Harry gave him a sheepish look, and shrugged. "I guess I didn't handle it too well after all, did I?"

Severus leant forward and steepled his hands together, leaning his elbows on his knees, and studied Harry intently for a moment.

"Harry, you don't have to do it all on your own anymore. I know that old habits are hard to break, but I'm your father, and I want to be there for you. I realise that this is unchartered territory for both of us. You asking for help, and me lending emotional support..." Severus paused a moment. He'd never been good with expressing his feelings, but he knew he had to try to convey to his son that although they were both new at this father and son thing, that he wanted to be there for him.

"But," he continued awkwardly, "Perhaps you could meet me halfway."

Harry felt his throat clog up with emotion. It was true; his father was right—he just had never had any adult he could ever count on before, and now that he was an adult himself, it was that much harder to reach out.

Harry nodded.

Harry curled the ribbon through his fingers, and said softly, "I wish that I'd had you in my life earlier. Then maybe..."

"Then maybe what?" Severus probed; although he could guess what Harry wanted to say.

Harry shook his head. "Never mind. You can't change the past."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't be the father you needed Harry."

Harry looked up with moist eyes. "That's okay. You are now, and that's what's important."

Harry jumped up suddenly, a crooked grin on his face. "Okay, enough of the mush; there are presents to open."

Severus allowed a small smile to transform his harsh features; he ignored the tug at his heart, as he imagined a scene of a much younger Harry, ripping open his Christmas presents, with joyous abandonment-and what could have been...

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry popped a chocolate frog into his mouth, and handed Severus an armful of presents.

Strains of Christmas Carols floated from the antique radio, perched on the mantelpiece. Of course Severus had grimaced at Harry's choice of music, but held his tongue; it was Harry's special day, and he could do what he liked-within reason, even if it meant listening to sappy, sweet Christmas Carols.

Severus rolled his eyes, as he peeled off the last layer of Christmas wrapping, to reveal a bright pair of Gryffindor-red woolen socks.

Harry smirked. "I thought that you could use some colour in your repertoire."

Severus quirked an eyebrow, and pointed at the silver and green-wrapped present on the floor beside Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Severus. "What's in here?" He rattled the gift.

Severus chuckled. "Nothing dangerous, I assure you."

Harry delicately opened the package. A deep green, terry-cloth bath-robe and matching slippers were inside.

"You did say that you were almost sorted into Slytherin," Severus said dryly.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Harry leant back to grab a sugar quill from his stocking.

"If you continue to gorge yourself with sweets, you won't be able to eat your breakfast," Severus said disapprovingly.

Harry grinned, and drew out a package of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Beans; he handed one to Severus.

"I dare you."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I do not indulge in sweets, as you are well aware, Harry."

Harry's eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Scared?"

"Hardly," Severus said dryly. He scowled and unwrapped the colourful wrapper.

Harry smirked, when Severus scowled, and placed the sweet gingerly in his mouth.

It was obvious, that the flavour was anything but enjoyable, when moments later, Severus' dark eyes watered, and his lips stretched into a grimace.

"What flavour did you get?" Harry asked curiously; he was certain that, it was bogey-flavoured, or some other equally foul-tasting flavour. Not that he thought that his father's pride would allow him to admit it.

"Never mind," he said tightly.

Harry chuckled.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

A warm glow settled over Harry, as he sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by mounds of discarded coloured wrapping paper. Severus was right, he was rather full from all the sweets that he'd indulged in, but after years of being deprived food at the Dursleys, he was not about to pass up on his favourite meal of the day-breakfast; a breakfast, where he was not made to cook the bacon, top his aunt and uncle's cups with hot coffee; often spilling the scalding liquid on himself, as he was barely able to reach the table, heaping his cousin's plate with second and third helpings; all while, his stomach grumbled painfully with hunger.

While Harry had received nowhere near the amount of presents that his spoilt cousin had received, the gifts that he'd received from his father had touched him in a way that he was certain that his cousin would never comprehend. And it was not the material value of the presents, either; yes, it was obvious that the leather-bound volume of, "Tactical Defence-An Auror's Handbook," must have been quite expensive, as was probably, the new dress robes, made from the finest silk, and just the same deep emerald-green as his eyes, and the shiny black patent-leather boots to go with the new robes, and the array of new shirts and trousers that Severus claimed he bought, because he knew that Harry was reluctant to buy, because he was just not used to spending money on himself. Of course Harry claimed it was rubbish, but Severus knew better. Harry's sense of self-worth had taken a beating at the hands of his relatives.

No, it was not the exorbitant amount of money that his father had obviously spent on him, but it was the sheer sentiment and thought that had gone into it, that had touched Harry so deeply, and help heal his bruised heart. Never had anyone, other than his friends and Sirius, ever treated Harry like he mattered, as though he were not just, "The Boy Who Lived," to be used and abused, and then discarded.

What really struck Harry, was the fact that he knew that his father normally did not celebrate Christmas in such a lavish manner, and would have, if not for Harry's presence, just ignored the holiday altogether, and been just as content to sit back with a glass of brandy, and perused his favourite Potions manual.

Severus tried hard to maintain his habitual aura of sternness, but glancing down at the rather large pile of presents that he'd received from his new son, it was hard not to pretend that there wasn't at least a crack in the veneer that was his shields. There were few people in his life who had ever bothered to treat him kindly; his mother, Lily and Albus were the exception.

Severus brushed a callused finger over the gold-filigree chain of the antique pocket watch that Harry had given him, and his heart hitched painfully as he opened the cover and stared down at the small picture of Lily that Harry had placed inside; red-gold hair shimmered like a halo around her freckled face. Severus fought down the ridiculous compulsion to feel his fingers run through her silky locks; it was just a portrait after all. She smiled up at him and waved, and for the first time, since he was a child, felt the sting of tears tug at the corner of his dark eyes.

Trying hard not to let the emotion seep through, and failing painfully, Severus lifted his obsidian eyes to meet Harry's expectant stare.

"Thank you Harry," he said, his deep voice, choked with emotion.

Harry just nodded; he couldn't have spoken, if he'd wanted to.

Severus placed his now, cold cup of coffee on the table. "Well, I believe it is time for breakfast, and then we should straighten up and begin the preparations for dinner."

"So, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are definitely coming then?" Harry asked curiously.

Severus rose from the couch, and grimaced as he pulled the belt to his new maroon bath robes tighter; Severus had to resist the urge to demand that he and Harry trade robes. Harry, contrary to Severus, didn't seem all that put out at having to wear Slytherin colours, Severus on the other hand, was quite used to wearing only his dark robes, and the glaring Gryffindor-red bathrobes felt foreign, and garish to his senses.

Harry stifled a chuckle at this father's poor attempts to hide his discomfort.

"Yes. Mr. Weasley assured me that all of the Weasleys were to be present." Severus was still not entirely comfortable with having a household of guests at his home. He was a quiet, reserved person, who preferred solitude and quiet, to bustling noisy cheer. Having a son was definitely making him soft, he reflected sardonically.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry patted his full stomach, and leant back in his chair contentedly. He shook his head as he looked down at his empty plate. He had scoffed down, two eggs, five strips of bacon, three sausages, two slices of toast, topped with home-made raspberry jelly that Susan had sent over earlier this morning in a basket-full of goodies, decorated with a large Poinsettia on top. There had been Scottish shortbread, preserves, maple fudge with walnuts, liquor-filled chocolates and all sorts of other goodies that had made Harry's mouth water, despite having filled up on sweets earlier.

Harry was glad that Severus had a friend like Susan. He knew that Severus would never even think about becoming romantically involved with someone other than his mother, and Susan also had lost the love of her life tragically, and was not interested in pursuing a romantic involvement; he'd been an Auror, ironically enough, and had lost his life in the course of duty. It was no wonder that his father appeared to cringe-if such a thing were possible for Severus Snape, whenever Harry mentioned his career plans. But Harry was glad that each could be friends, and rely on each other, without having to worry about the other expecting more than they were capable of giving.

Severus sipped his coffee and peered over the top of his cup at Harry.

"There is something I must discuss with you, and I don't want you to feel pressured."

Harry patted his mouth with the napkin, and glanced up expectantly at this father; he shivered slightly at the rather serious expression that had suddenly crossed his father's pale features.

"Pressured about what?" Harry asked nervously.

Severus drained the last dregs of coffee from the bottom of his cup, before setting it down with a clank on the plate.

He placed his elbows on the crisp, white tablecloth-clad table, and steepled his hands together.

"It has been a tradition in the past-," he hesitated a moment.

Harry looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah.." he prompted.

"I'm not sure if I've mentioned to you before that I'm Draco's Godfather," Severus said quietly; assessing Harry's reaction carefully.

Harry's green eyes flickered with surprise. "No, I don't think that you have."

Severus nodded. "And as such..."

"You get together over the Christmas hols, don't you?" Harry finished for him.

"Yes we do. Or rather-we have in the past."

Harry bit his lip uncertainly. He just knew where this conversation was going...

"And I'm guessing that you'd like to, this Christmas as well?"

"I do not wish to pressure you into anything that you feel uncomfortable with. Narcissa has requested that she and Draco be permitted to visit."

Harry's stomach swooped.

"I realise that there are many painful memories for you with regards to Narcissa, and Draco and you have had, shall we say a rather colourful past," he said dryly, "so I'm not adverse to informing Narcissa that this year, a visit will not be possible."

"Did I ever tell you that Mrs. Malfoy saved my life?"

Severus' eyes narrowed in surprise.

"Yeah, I was pretending to be dead, and Voldemort asked her to see if I was still breathing, and she lied to him. She lied to him. Do you believe it? If it wasn't for her, I'd be toast," he said dryly. "Imagine that. I owe my life to a Malfoy. And to think, that maybe even Voldemort wouldn't be gone if it weren't for her. How ironic is that? Of course, her concern was really only for Draco, but still..."

"I had no idea," Severus whispered.

"So, I suppose that I do owe her something. Even if Malfoy is an arse, I suppose that I could put up with him for a few hours."

"You truly are your mother's son Harry."

"And my father's as well," Harry said with a crooked grin. "If Malfoy pulls something, I'll hex him into the next universe."

Severus chuckled. "Well, if you must, but do try not to demolish the house in the process."

"You got it Dad."

Dad; Severus looked at his son, and thought again how he didn't deserve the happiness that he felt at this moment; not when he'd tortured the boy for so long, and had been so selfish and cruel. Severus thanked Merlin that his son had inherited Lily's pure heart, and compassion, as well as her capacity for forgiveness, and he thanked the heavens above, that his stubborn son had done something as foolish as risking his life and sanity, and had given him another chance, even though Severus had been an ungrateful, pig-headed idiot.

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

His stomach swirled as though a thousand butterflies fluttered inside.

Ginny looked lovely, standing against the sparkling white background; with one hand still clutched tightly on the door-handle, Harry lifted his other hand, to touch the large snowflake that lay upon her red-gold hair. The flake sizzled and melted under his fingertip. He ran his fingers lightly against her silky hair.

His breath hitched in his throat.

A throat clearing reminded Harry of his manners.

He felt the warmth creep up his neck.

"Uh sorry," Harry stuttered. "Please come in."

Ron smirked at him, and Ginny blushed.

"Happy Christmas," Arthur said, with a forced smile

Molly nodded; her pale face looked pinched, and the rims of her eyes were red; Harry's heart wrenched. It was obvious that she'd been crying, and he knew that it must be a very difficult time of the year for her-for all of the family.

Severus stepped forward, extending his arm towards Molly and Arthur. "May I take your coats?"

Harry too, took a step forward, intending to help Ginny lift the pale blue coat off of her slender shoulders, but at the sight of the way her mauve, chiffon dress clung to her slender curves, and the way that the neckline dipped just enough to accentuate her breasts, and the way that the thin straps of her dress rested on her creamy shoulders, took his breath away; he had an overwhelming urge to feel her soft lips on his. Usually, the petite girl had to reach on her tippy-toes to kiss Harry, even though he was not very tall himself, but she wore four inch silver sandals, that accentuated her shapely legs.

Oh Merlin, he had to get her alone.

As he went to take her coat from her, his fingers brushed against hers, and he almost forgot that that they weren't alone, as what felt like an electrical current, rippled through his body.

Although Harry had eyes only for Ginny, he couldn't help think how lovely Hermione looked too. How much had the small, bushy-haired girl, with the large front teeth turned into a lovely young woman. A small smile lifted the corner of Harry's mouth, as he noticed how possessively that Ron held onto Hermione's slender waist. The young woman's hair was swept up with a small diamond-encrusted clasp; a few stray curls brushed against her pale, smooth cheeks. She wore a simple pale-pink strapless dress, with a pink satin ribbon under the bodice. The skirt fell down in soft pleats to just above her knees.

They all settled into the parlour, as delicious aromas wafted in from the kitchen.

"Would you care for something to drink?" asked Severus.

Ginny scowled at her father, as he handed her a Butterbeer, while Hermione, Ron, Harry and George sipped on Firewhiskeys. Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Bill and Fleur, nursed brandies. Ginny looked at Harry pleadingly, but Harry simply shook his head regretfully; he was not about to give the under-aged Ginny alcohol, with her father, older brothers, and his own uptight father present. He handed Ron his Firewhiskey, and grabbed a bottle of Butterbeer for himself.

Harry rather thought that Molly's strained expression relaxed a bit, as she leant into Arthur's gentle embrace. Harry hoped that he and Ginny would find the same happiness and commitment that Arthur and Molly so obviously shared with each other, even after so many years of marriage. Although, they had endured both joy and tragedy over the years, they were obviously still very devoted to each other.

Harry looked down at Ginny with love shining in his clear green eyes.

Harry leant down to whisper in Ginny's ear. "Let's get some fresh air."

"I thought that you'd never ask," she whispered back.

"Dad, Ginny and I are going to take a walk outside before supper...okay?"

"Yes, but don't be too long. I wouldn't want to be serving burnt dinner."

The snow crunched under their feet; the crisp night air, making their skin tingle.

Snowflakes fluttered down gently from the moonlight sky.

Ginny laid her head on Harry's shoulder, as his arm gently held her to him.

"I was rather surprised to hear you calling Professor Snape Dad, Harry. I guess that means that things are going well?"

"Yeah, well, I think that I surprised myself too, but it just came naturally. Things are not perfect, but I feel for the first time since this all happened that-" Harry paused, "I finally feel that he wants to be a father to me, as much as I've always wanted one. Does that make any sense?"

Ginny chuckled. "If anyone had ever told me that you'd be calling Snape…Dad, and that he'd be playing father to you, I would have said they were mental, but you know Harry, he really seems to have stepped up to the plate."

Harry ran his fingers through her hair.

"You know..." he stopped, and pulled her into his arms, "as happy as I am to finally have a living, breathing father, I'd much rather talk about us," he said huskily, and brushed his lips against hers.

She gently ran the tip of her finger over his cheek. "Me too, and-"

Harry cut her off, as he kissed her again.

"I can't imagine my life without you Ginny."

"Nor I without you."

"One day, I promise you," he said, as he lifted her small hand, and took her left ring finger, between his thumb and index finger, "that I'm going to make you my wife."

Ginny sucked in a tangy breath of fresh air.

"And one day you're going to be my husband, but you have Auror training, and I haven't even finished school yet-"

"I know, and I did want to give you a ring this Christmas, but I know that your parents would never approve, and my father has already lectured me on the wisdom of waiting until we're both a little older and settled into our careers, but one day soon, Miss Weasley, you're going to wear my ring."

"And I'll be waiting Mr. Potter."

"But for now," Harry said, fumbling in his trousers' pocket, "there's something I want to give you. Something that belonged to my mother."

Harry handed her an oblong-shaped box, wrapped in emerald-green wrapping paper.

Ginny delicately peeled back the wrapping, and gasped as she pulled out a delicate silver charm bracelet.

"It's lovely Harry."

"My father was going to give it to mum, but things kind of got..well, it's kind of personal," he said, apologetically.

"I understand," Ginny said, while attempting to close the clasp on the bracelet. Harry delicately took her tiny wrist, and attached the clasp.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered, her throat clogging with emotion. "Thank you."

Harry lifted up one of the charms. "This one here is baby Harry," he said, chuckling, as he pointed out a small picture of his mum, holding a squirming eighteen-month-old Harry in her arms.

Harry traced his finger lightly over the charm, and said, "She died just after this picture was taken," he whispered hoarsely.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said quietly. "She was very beautiful."

Harry nodded; he felt his heart clench, thinking of the once-vibrant woman staring back at him in the picture. If only she could be here...if only she could meet Ginny. Yes, perhaps things would have been a little complicated, if James was still alive, but Harry liked to think that both men would have played an important part in his life.

Harry tried to squelch down the sadness that always threatened to overwhelm him at this time of year; how he missed Sirius, and Remus and Tonks, and Fred; life would never be the same, but he had to look to the future, and while he would never forget those so important to him, he would only drive himself mad, living in the past. No, now he had a new father, and a promising future with the love of his life, and Harry had to hold onto that.

"There is place here for us to add a charm for every milestone in our lives together."I'm rather hoping that the next charm we add will be one of us at our wedding," he said, pulling her gently into his arms.

Merlin, he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her.

"And this charm," he said, chuckling, "is baby Ginny."

"What?" she gasped in surprise. She flushed at the picture of a pint-sized, auburn-haired two-year-old Ginny, tugging on Molly's apron strings."

"I think that I actually remember when this picture was taken. Ron had just pulled my hair," she said, making a face. "The little tosser." She looked at Harry suspiciously. "How did you get this picture?"

"Ron of course," he said, smirking.

"I was sort of cute I guess. Even if I did have a snotty nose and blotchy eyes."

"You were perfectly adorable Miss Weasley," Harry said, teasingly nibbling on her ear. "But now...now you're just plain beautiful, and sexy, and-"

"Harry," Ginny admonished, slapping Harry's hand away, as it strayed to forbidden places. "What if my parents were to come outside, or, Merlin forbid, your father?"

Harry removed his hand, as though it was on fire. "Point taken."

"Now Mr. Potter, if you promise to behave yourself, I have something for you too," she said, giving him a stern look.

Harry looked offended. "I always behave myself!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

"Here," she said, handing him a large, rectangle-shaped box, wrapped in brightly-coloured paper, with little flying snitches on it.

Harry looked at her in astonishment.

Harry unwrapped the present and chuckled; inside, was a Mrs. Weasley-style jade-green jumper, embroidered with, instead of H for Harry, G & H.

Harry shook his head in amusement, and, taking his winter jacket off, slipped the jumper over his head.

"You look so cute," Ginny giggled. "But here's my real present."

Ginny pulled Harry by the collar of his shirt, and planted a kiss on his parted lips.

Harry looked at her incredulously.

She chuckled again. "Just joking," she said, slipping her hand yet again, into her pocket; Harry chuckling to himself at the image of Ginny's lumpy pockets.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat as he opened the lid of a deep blue velvet box.

Harry plucked an oval, eighteen-carat gold ring, from its plush background, and stared at it in awe.

Ginny had taken the time, not only to have the ring custom-made, by the most prestigious Wizarding Jeweler available, Irvings' Exclusive Jewelers, but had given it the utmost care and thought into designing it herself.

She wanted the ring to represent not only Harry's heritage, but where he was now in his life, blended perfectly, with whom he had been; the meeting of Harry's past life, and his new life brought together, in perfect harmony.

Harry Potter Snape was unique in his own way, but also carried traits of the three most influential people in his life.

Although Professor Snape had come into Harry's life in a important way, only later on, his genes, along with Harry's mum, still influenced who Harry was now, and even though Harry was not born James Potter's biological son, a blood adoption had been performed shortly after Harry's birth to reinforce the glamour spell that had been applied to Harry, to mirror James' appearance, therefore, there was some of James' blood running through his veins; that fact, and the ultimate sacrifice that James had given to save Harry's life, meant that James should be honoured as well

On one side of the ring, was engraved a Serpent, encrusted with tiny emeralds, representing the Honourable House of Salazar Slytherin- the House to which his father, Severus Tobias Snape, was not only sorted into, but held the highest honour beholden to the House—that of Head of House. On the right-hand side of the ring, was a roaring Lion, dotted with rubies, representing the Noble House of Godric Gryffindor—that to which his beloved mother, Lily Ann Evans, and his brave and courageous step-father, James Potter belonged to.

The names, Potter, Evans, and Snape encircled the slithering serpent, and roaring Lion, and moved slowly around the insignias.

Harry slipped it on his finger, and felt the moisture tug at the corners of his eyes.

"It's perfect," Harry said in a husky voice.

"Are you sure that you like it?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

Harry pulled her gently into his arms. "I love it almost as much as I love you."

"Happy Christmas Harry," she said; her warm fingers clutching onto his.

"I guess that we'd better get back inside before my dad has a fit."

They stomped their feet on the rug, and brushed the snow off of their jackets.

"We're just about to sit down to dinner Harry," Severus told the pair as they walked in the door.

Everyone took their seats at the large table.

White candles, placed in elegant silver candlestick holders were set on opposite ends of the table, and a large Poinsettia was placed in the middle of the dining table.

Susan had helped with the dinner, but had declined to stay; she insisted that this was a day for close family and friends and didn't want to intrude.

There was all the usual Christmas fare- golden-brown turkey, sausage and cranberry stuffing, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, rich brown gravy, pumpkin pie, an assortment of cakes and pastries for desert.

"You may have a glass of wine with dinner—one glass only," Arthur told Ginny sternly, when he noticed her eyes widening at the wine glass next to place setting, and the bottle of the finest white wine chilling the ice-bucket in the middle of the table.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

Honestly! Her parents were living in the dark ages. They were so over-protective.

As the wine and the delicious meal began to warm his insides, Harry noticed that the atmosphere at the table had relaxed quite a bit; even some colour had returned to Mrs. Weasley's face, and she, Severus and Mr. Weasley were deep in conversation.

George seemed a little lost without his side-kick, and Harry knew that things would never be the same without Fred, and his stomach clenched as he imagined everyone who was missing at the large table, but whose chairs would remain empty forevermore.

He missed Remus and Tonks terribly, but tomorrow, Tonks' parents would be bringing Teddy over, and he looked forward to seeing his godson again. With the renovation of the school, and subsequent events; what with finding out that Severus was his father, all the casualties that the war had wrought, and the rebuilding of the school, just to name a few of the changes that had wreaked havoc with Harry's life, he'd not seen Teddy since his parent's death.

Of course, with Teddy's visit, tomorrow would bring dinner with the Malfoys; Harry could only imagine how awkward that would be. As his father had pointed out though, it was time to bridge the distance between the Houses; after all, there was no reason for there to be the same animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor—they were all on the same side now. Yes, there were some Slytherins who still held a grudge, because they had loved ones who had been Death Eaters and had either died in battle, or were serving long stints in Azkaban, but the majority of Slytherins were willing to start fresh.

A clinking of a fork on a wine-glass pulled Harry from his reverie.

Arthur was standing, and now holding his wine-glass up in the air.

"I'd like to thank Severus and Harry, for including us in their Christmas celebration, and of course for making this world a safer place."

Harry blushed, and Severus sat stiffly; not comfortable with being the center of attention.

"Also, I have a very exciting announcement to make."

Severus shook his head when Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Now that the chaos of the war has quieted down, and the subsequent rebuilding has been completed, the Ministry has finally acknowledged that they owe a great debt of gratitude to Harry and Severus for their courage and bravery in defeating…Voldemort," he said with determination.

Severus and Harry, I asked Kingsley if I could be the one to impart this exciting news personally, and he acquiesced, since he knows how much our family owes you both.

Harry looked perplexed.

"What do you mean Mr. Weasley? You don't owe us anything-" he began.

"On the contrary Harry," he interrupted. "We owe you much more than we can ever repay you both for."

He held up a finger, when it looked like Harry was going to interrupt again.

"The Ministry is going to award you both the Order of Merlin."

Harry's jaw dropped.

Severus' normally composed expression, mirrored Harry's one of shock.

"On January first, a ceremony will be held to present you with your awards, as well as several other awards of bravery that the Ministry wishes to present to all those who fought so courageously."

"I don't know what to say," Severus said, shaking his head in disbelief.

He had come so close to getting the Order of Merlin, during Harry's third year, but was ashamed to admit, that he had been so obsessed with recognition and glory, and had been such a bitter, vengeful man, that he'd been willing to accept such an honour, while throwing an innocent man to the wolves, so to speak. Of course, at the time, Severus had heartily believed that Black had been guilty of betraying his beloved Lily, and thought that Harry, Hermione, and Ron's proclamations of Black's innocence were the rantings of overzealous children. But truth be told, he had wanted to believe that Black was guilty out of some warped sense of revenge from childhood grudges.

But now, Severus was humbled to get the award, and felt that he didn't deserve this highest honour.

His normally pale skin, flushed pink, when Arthur, rose his glass again, and said, "To Harry and Severus," and everyone held out their glasses as well.

Harry patted his full stomach, and went to join his friends in the newly-added game room; of course, this had been Harry's idea, to which Severus had sneered. It held a billiard table, an air-hockey table, a telly, and even a computer and video games.

Ron, Ginny and George had not grown up with such Muggle contraptions and were totally awed by them. George had continued with Fred's legacy, and continued to run the joke shop, and his brain was working over-time trying to figure out how to incorporate some of these Muggle artefacts into a prank-worthy product.

Harry sat, with Ginny in his lap, while Hermione tried to explain the fine-points of billiard to a very confused Ron.

While Molly was washing up, at her insistence, and Charlie, Bill and Fleur were settled into the parlour, and were having a heated discussion on baby names, and American versus French child-rearing practices, as Fleur was three months pregnant, much to the delight of Molly, Arthur pulled Severus aside to a quiet corner of the House; his soft eyes, shadowed in worry.

Severus' furrowed his brow. "Whatever requires such secrecy Arthur?"

"I'm reluctant to spoil such a joyous occasion by imparting disturbing news."

Severus' dark eyes clouded.

"Arthur?"

Arthur raked his long, pale fingers through his flaming hair,

"There have been attacks."

Severus' blood froze.

"What sort of attacks?"

Arthur began to pace back and forth nervously.

"On Muggles mainly, but the nature of the attacks are worrisome, and suggest that they may have been performed by a wizard."

Severus traced his thin lips with the the tip of his potion-stained finger.

"How so?"

"The attacks are of a ritualistic fashion, and suggest that the attacker is attempting to send a message. But it is the sheer absence of violence upon the bodies. The murders are very reminiscent of…" He trailed off.

Severus held his breath; not wanting to know the answer.

"Reminiscent of?"

"Of the way that You-Know-Who murdered his victims."

Harry went to sleep that night with a smile on his face. He had thought that his first Christmas at Hogwarts was the best one he'd ever had in his whole life, but this Christmas with his new father, and surrounded by his best friends and his surrogate family, equalled if not rivalled that one. The only dark spot of the holiday was the painful reminder of all those loved ones that he'd lost and never see again.

It was getting easier though, to push those dark thoughts to the back of his mind now that he had his father in his life. While no one could ever replace those he had lost, Severus had helped to heal the deep ache in his heart. Having never had parents growing up, he could only stare with longing at other children who had what he never thought that he could have. Harry tried not to think of all the years that he missed out on by not having had Severus in his life. He had all he wished for now, and he wanted to savour every moment.

The next morning, Harry woke up with a smile. Warm memories of his best Christmas day ever, made him glow with pleasure.

Although he wasn't looking forward to dinner with the Malfoys, and how awkward it would be, Harry wanted to hold onto this feeling of euphoria for as long as he could.

He flipped back the covers, and slid his feet into his warm slippers. The fire crackled in the hearth, but the air was still a little crisp. Although sunlight filtered in through the frosted window pane, large snowflakes were swirling around, and the tree branches were whipping back and forth.

Harry added an extra log to the fireplace and yanked on his bath robe. He raked his fingers through his messy hair, and practically skipped down the staircase towards the kitchen.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Despite the succulent feast the evening before, Harry's tummy was rumbling. His mouth watered as delicious breakfast smells wafted through the air.

"Morning," Harry greeted Severus, who was flipping through a Muggle newspaper.

"Good Morning," Severus said, as he inconspicuously closed the paper with a snap. After his disturbing conversation with Arthur last evening, Severus had no desire to spoil his son's enjoyment of their first holiday together as father and son, by allowing him to see the front page of the newspaper.

Harry sat down and began to heap his plate with pancakes, bangers, scrambled eggs and fresh fruit. He poured ice-cold pumpkin juice from the pitcher on the table into a large glass.

Severus smirked.

"You'd think you haven't eaten in a fortnight with all the food on your plate."

"Hey! I'm a growing boy!" Harry said with feigned insult.

Despite how famished Harry had been, he was barely able to finish half of the food on his plate.

A legacy from the years Harry had spent with his aunt and uncle. Severus had to fight down the urge to go and hunt down the Dursleys and make them pay for the abuse and neglect they had directed towards his son.

Guilt weighed down heavily upon Severus as he thought of how he could have spared his son all the pain he'd endured at the hands of his loving relatives, had only he had been the father that he should have been.

Harry patted his stomach and placed his utensils carefully on the plate.

"Thanks again for such a great Christmas."

"You are very welcome Harry," Severus said gruffly. "But thanks are not necessary. I too found it to be pleasurable."

Harry snickered. That was his father's way of saying that he'd enjoyed the day every bit as much as Harry had. As strange as it was, Harry found his father's habit of holding on fiercely to his prickly demeanour and guarding his emotions closely to his chest, rather endearing.

The thought that Harry would ever consider anything about the very reserved, uptight Severus Snape, Greasy Git of the Dungeons—endearing, made Harry lose his last vestige of control, and he began to laugh.

Severus' eyebrow arched suspiciously at the way Harry was studying him and chuckling.

"Something amusing?" he asked, with a hint of humour.

"No. No, not at all," Harry said as he jumped up and on impulse, went around and gave Severus a hug.

"Thanks so much, Dad. For everything. For giving me the best Christmas I could have ever wanted. For welcoming my friends, and the Weasleys, into your home. Just thanks for it all," he said breathlessly.

As he stood up, Harry could tell that although his father held himself stiffly, unaccustomed as he was to giving or accepting affection or showing emotion, Severus look pleased nonetheless.

Harry sat back down and leant back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment. The sunlight flooding in through the patio doors warmed the back of his head.

Harry opened his eyes to find Severus studying him intensely.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked worriedly. It had not gone beyond his notice that his father seemed to be clutching the newspaper rather fiercely. It occurred to Harry that Severus was trying to protect him from whatever the newspaper contained.

Harry's stomach twisted at the thought that after all the heartache that his friends and father had suffered, that something else could arise that could spoil the sense of freedom and peace that they'd all strived so hard to achieve.

"No, of course not," Severus denied.

Changing the subject, Severus asked, "How did Miss Weasley like your Christmas present to her?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You can call her Ginny you know."

"She is my student. It would not be appropriate to call her by her given name," he said stiffly.

"Honestly Dad. She's also your son's girlfriend, practically fiancée," Harry huffed.

Severus' head snapped up.

"Don't worry; we're not planning on running off and eloping anytime soon. Ginny's parents would have a fit."

"I should hope not," Severus said sternly. "You are both far too young."

"I have a feeling that you'd think that I was too young to get married if I was thirty," Harry said acerbically.

"Well, you are not thirty, and sixteen and seventeen is definitely not mature enough to make a decision that could affect the rest of your lives," Severus insisted firmly.

"I know that, and we aren't idiots. Ginny's going to finish school first and decide what she wants to do as a career, and I'm going to finish my Auror training before we even think about making you a grandpa," Harry said cheekily.

Twin spots of colour rose on Severus' pale cheeks. Part of him was mortified at the thought of being called grandpa by a snot-nosed little brat, but the other part of him; the part of him that few people got to know, was secretly excited at the thought that his son would continue on with the Snape and Evans legacy.

"Hmm," Severus replied silkily, "perhaps we should have a discussion about contraceptive charms. I could teach you some very effective methods of birth control."

It was now Harry's turn to blush furiously.

"You know…" he said jumping up from his chair suddenly, "I just thought of some finishing touches that I could add to that Potions Essay you set."

Severus smirked as he watched his son scurry off out of the kitchen.

His amusement at his son's discomfort faded quickly however as he remembered the contents of this morning's newspaper.

Severus carefully unfolded the newspaper as the sound of Harry's slippers slapping against the stairs slowly faded.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

"Narcissa," Snape said, reaching out a long pale hand to retrieve her cloak. "I hope that you are well."

She nodded and said softly, "Yes of course," but the shadowed and haunted look in her large blue eyes, belied this assertion.

Although Narcissa looked as coolly beautiful as ever, with her white blond hair piled upon her head and captured in a sparkling diamond clasp, and her midnight blue silk dress that matched the colour of her eyes perfectly, she had lost quite a bit of weight since Severus had last seen her.

He reached down to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"I trust that you've had a good Christmas."

Draco scowled. "Just peachy."

"Draco," Narcissa scolded.

"Well, it's true Mother. Father is in prison, and you mope about the house like a wet flannel."

She touched his cheek lightly. "I'm sorry Dragon," she whispered. "I promise that I'll make more of an effort. It's just been so difficult."

Narcissa pulled a lace hanky from her tiny blue sequined purse and dabbed at the stray tear that had rolled down her pale cheek.

Severus felt a pang of worry. Narcissa had always been slim, but now her diamond bracelet hung so loosely off of her tiny wrist, it looked like it might fall off.

"Harry, why don't you show Draco the game room."

Both Draco and Harry gave Severus an incredulous look.

"But-"

Severus gave him a stern look.

"Sure," Harry said unenthusiastically. "C'mon Malfoy, uh…I mean Draco."

"How are you really Narcissa?" Severus asked, leading her towards the parlour.

Severus waved his arm towards the divan. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

Narcissa sat down, crossing her long slim legs.

She sighed. "No, I guess that I'm not fine really."

"Give me something strong please Severus. And you might as well prepare something strong for yourself too. Although I've never seen anything really break you. I wish I had half your strength Severus."

"Nonsense," Severus said as he poured the amber liquid into the glass. "You are one of the strongest women I've ever known," he said firmly.

It was true too, Severus thought. In all the time he'd known the blond beauty, he'd never once seen her crack. She had always stood proudly by Lucius' side and had been a devoted mother to Draco. In fact, many times, she'd acted as a buffer between Lucius and Draco.

Although Lucius had loved his wife and son in his own selfish, twisted way, and would have laid his life down for them, he had not been an easy man to live with. He'd often been cruel and could be borderline abusive towards his wife and child. Of course, in the Pureblood custom, the man was Lord and Master of his home, wife and child, and strict and often physical forms of discipline was a normal and expected occurrence.

In the Death Eater community in particular, the Patriarch ruled his home with an iron fist. A man was considered to be weak if he didn't have ultimate control over his wife and children.

Severus knew that although to the world, Draco appeared to be very spoilt and coddled, he had also been held up to Lucius' impossibly high standards.

Yes, Lucius had spared no cost on maintaining a lavish lifestyle for his wife and child, but could be downright tyrant if his wishes were countermanded. He demanded obedience and respect and for the most part Draco and Narcissa obliged.

Narcissa, however, was the ultimate Slytherin where her husband was concerned. She knew that as long as she catered to her husband's fragile ego, she could manipulate him to do almost anything that she wanted; she knew the rules though.

In high Pureblood society, a wife must always support her husband publicly, no matter whether she secretly, vehemently disagreed with him, and this was one rule that Narcissa always obeyed.

Often, Narcissa was able to impose her will on Lucius by simply stroking his ego, and actually managing to convince her husband that it was his idea all along.

Yes, Severus had the utmost respect for Narcissa, and often wondered if Lucius understood how fortunate he was to have such a devoted woman by his side.

Although it was never discussed openly, Severus often got the impression that Narcissa didn't necessarily agree with all of the Dark Lord's doctrines.

Severus had a feeling that Narcissa knew where his true loyalties lay but never had she once betrayed him.

"You look troubled Narcissa. Whatever is the matter?"

She sighed. "I thought that it was over. I thought we were finally free to get on with our lives without having to worry about constantly displeasing the Dark Lord," she said, twisting the large diamond ring on her long, slender finger, "and that once Lucius had paid his dues in Azkaban, that we could all start over. Perhaps make a fresh start."

Severus' dark eyes studied her deep blue ones intently. "And why is that not still possible Narcissa?"

Her eyes widened in fear. "Because I don't know if Lucius will survive Azkaban this time."

"That's ridiculous. Lucius is perfectly safe, and he'll be home before you know it."

"No he's not perfectly safe. Azkaban is not safe. It's starting all over again. The rumours…the mysterious deaths."

Narcissa grabbed onto Severus' sleeve. "What if the Dark Lord is back?"

"That's impossible Narcissa. Harry destroyed him. He destroyed the last Horcrux. I've seen his memories. I know this to be true."

"Yes, but strange things are happening. Have you not seen the Prophet? I've heard that even the Muggle news is carrying stories about strange and unexplained occurrences…mysterious deaths and the sort."

Despite Arthur's cryptic words earlier, and the disturbing contents of this morning's paper, Severus felt the need to assuage Narcissa's concerns.

Severus sat down on the couch, crossing his long legs and carefully choosing his words.

"Unfortunately evil is not the sole property of the Wizarding World. I'm quite certain that random acts of violence, committed by Muggles do not mean that the Wizarding World is once again threatened by Dark Forces."

"I realise that Severus, but Dementors are once again guarding the prisoners of Azkaban," she whispered.

Severus fought hard to retain his composure. After the Dementors had changed loyalties during the Dark Lord's rise to power for the second time, Shacklebolt had soothed the Wizarding public's outcry about how barbaric Dementor's guarding prisoners was, and promised that they would never be used in that manner again.

"Lucius also said that the Warden was found dead in his office last week. Shortly after his death, the prisoners noticed that the Dementors had returned."

Severus shook his head in disbelief. "I cannot imagine that Shacklebolt would allow this."

"Nor I," she said, circling the top of her glass with a long red painted fingernail, "but I have to tell you Severus, that Lucius is not the same man that you once knew."

She got up and walked to the window, staring out at the sun dipping behind the snow-tipped mountains in the distance.

"I think that he has had his fill for a lifetime in servitude to a cruel, sadistic madman."

She turned to him with a sorrowful expression. "I think that he is burdened with guilt…we both are, for having put Draco in such danger. We should never have believed all the Dark Lord's lies."

"You are not the only one to be taken in by him," Severus said with regret.

"We all know how strong his powers of persuasion could be."

"Severus, please. You have to get Lucius out Azkaban. I beg you."

Severus' eyes widened in shock. "I do not have that kind of power Narcissa."

"No, perhaps not, but your son does. I have no doubt that there is little that Harry Potter could ask of the Ministry that they'd refuse."

"You ask too much, Narcissa," Severus said angrily.

"Please Severus. I cannot lose him. I'll do anything. I'm not above begging," she pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but I will not place my son in such a position," he said stonily.

"May I remind you that were it not for me, you would not have your son."

Severus stared at her in shock. He knew that she was desperate and scared, but she had crossed the line.

"She's right Dad," a voice said from the doorway. "I owe Mrs. Malfoy my life."

"No, your father is right Harry," she said. "I am so sorry. I have no right to ask such a thing. I know that Lucius was not a kind person to you, and that you have every reason to detest him."

Harry shook his head. "I won't lie, Mrs. Malfoy. Your husband has been a right git to me, but even though I can't promise you anything, I'd be doing it for you, not him. For having given my father and me a second chance, and for making it possible to rid the world of Voldemort once and for all."

"I haven't exactly been altruistic," Narcissa said, her pale face blushing. "All I could think about was whether Draco was safe or not."

"It really doesn't matter why you helped me, the end result is the same. I owe you my life." He smiled at Severus. "My future."

"So, Professor Snape seems different now-A little more mellow."

Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess he is- in some ways that is."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "So, why are you helping my father?"

"I don't look at it like I'm helping your father. I look at it like I'm helping your mother."

Draco looked at him suspiciously. "And just why would you want to help my mother?

Harry pulled his arm back, and the end of the pool cue hit the ball; it ricocheted off the corner of the table and rolled into the farthest hole.

"You mean your mother didn't tell you what she did?"

Draco shook his head.

"Didn't you think it rather odd that I suddenly came back to life after Hagrid came back to Hogwarts, carrying my supposedly lifeless body in his arms?"

"I was a little preoccupied at the time," Draco said acerbically.

"Voldemort doesn't make mistakes like that, does he? He sure the hell would have made sure that I was really dead before he went ahead and taunted everyone at Hogwarts like that, don't you think?"

"What's your point Potter?" Draco said impatiently.

"My point is that Voldemort asked your mother to make sure that I was really dead."

Draco's eyes widened. He wasn't a fool; his mother had risked her life for Potter.

"I know what you're thinking. Your mother didn't risk her life for me. She cared only about you, and whether you were safe. That's all she cared about, and if I was the key to saving you, then so be it."

Draco sighed. "You don't have to spell it out for me. I know that I owe you my life-Even if you did put my father in prison."

"C'mon Malfoy, I know that you care about your father-even if he is a right git, but I think that your father still got off rather easy. Five years in prison is nothing to scoff at; he could very well have spent the rest of his life in there, or worse yet, been sentenced to be kissed."

"I know that Potter. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be indebted to you?"

"Yes I do actually. You saved my arse with Bellatrix remember? So, consider that we're even now."

Draco nodded. He knew damned well that what he'd done for Potter was only to save his own hide. Draco wasn't sure at what point he'd figured out that he was on the wrong side; perhaps when the Dark Lord had ordered him to kill Dumbledore. As much of a bastard that he knew that he'd been towards Potter and many of the other Gryffindors, Draco was not a murderer. He had been desperate to prove to the Dark Lord that he was loyal, but that was only to save his father and protect his mother. He had never wanted to kill the Headmaster, and as angry as he'd been with Severus, he knew that he owed Severus more than just his own life. He couldn't imagine the burden of guilt that he'd be carrying right now, had he carried out the deed that the Dark Lord had given him. Oh yes, Draco did have a conscience, contrary to what many thought.

"Draco…Harry, time for supper," Severus' deep voice called from the dining room.

XXX

"So Mr. Potter…or is your name Snape now?" Narcissa asked.

"Actually you can just call me Harry if you like, but I have added Snape onto my name, so both are actually correct. I rather like the idea of carrying Severus' name, but I also wish to honour my other father, James Potter."

Narcissa nodded. "That is very commendable Mr. Po-Harry. Both of your fathers are, and were good, honourable men."

"Narcissa, James Potter may have been a good and honourable man, but I would describe myself as neither good nor honourable." Severus said.

"Nonsense," Narcissa said hotly. "You have a rather skewed view of yourself Severus. You are a good and brave man."

"Honestly Narcissa, I've done horrible things in my life that I can never earn forgiveness for."

"No one is debating that you have perhaps done things you regret Severus, but forgiveness begins with forgiving oneself."

"Mrs. Malfoy is right you know," Harry said earnestly. "I've been trying to tell my father that it is time that he let go of the past and forgive himself. He seems to think that he's condemned to hell forever, because of his past sins."

"And my son seems to think that any sin can be forgiven, no matter how horrible the crime one has committed; he has this rather naïve and childish view that one can simply wish away their sins and others will forget the horrible things that they've done."

Harry glared at his father. "And my father seems to think that I'm still a child, and still treats me as though I'm eleven-years-old. And my father still has his head up his arse, and—"

Severus glared right back at his son. "And my son needs to learn to act his age and watch his mouth when there is a lady present," he said sternly.

Draco turned to his mother with a crooked grin. "It's rather like watching a Quidditch match, isn't it?" He took another sip of wine. "It will be interesting to see who wins the match; what do you think Mother?"

Both father and son turned to glare at Draco, who only raised his glass in toast to them both.

"I think perhaps that you should refrain from further comment Draco," she said with a hint of amusement.

XXX

"Well, that went rather well, don't you think?" Harry asked his father later, as he flopped into the large armchair in front of the fire.

Severus swirled his brandy around in his glass and stared at his son. He shook his head.

"If one likes a day filled with Christmas carollers banging on your door, interrupting your peace and singing sappy Christmas Carols, having to endure my home and hearth being invaded by droves of well-wishers and Gryffindors forcing me to affix a permanent smile upon my face, being encouraged to stuff my face with sugary sweets that will rot my teeth, spend exorbitant amounts of galleons on meaningless baubles, then yes it went rather well," Severus sneered.

Harry grinned. "C'mon Dad. I know that you enjoyed it. I know that you can't admit it because of your evil potions master image that you're trying to uphold and everything."

Severus sputtered with indignation.

"Image? I'll have you know that I have worked hard to cultivate my irascible disposition."

"I believe it."

XXX

Severus placed his hands lightly on his son's shoulders and felt a swell of pride rush over him as he stared at his son's reflection in the mirror—at the handsome young man with the emerald-green eyes, so much like his mother's.

Those emerald eyes now met his in the mirror.

Do you think I look okay?" Harry asked anxiously, while fiddling with his tie.

"Harry," Severus said, firmly turning his son around to face him. "You look fine—You look more than fine," he amended.

Severus' long fingers expertly arranged his tie.

Severus gently lifted Harry's chin up with his finger. "What has got you so agitated son?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. I just feel like I don't deserve the Order of Merlin. I mean…" Harry's voice trembled, "so many people died because of me. I don't deserve to be honoured."

Severus shook his head.

"I apologise Harry."

Harry crinkled his eyes in confusion. "For what?"

"For misjudging you."

"What do you mean?"

"I made your life a living hell," Severus whispered, "because I thought that you sought out attention and fame, and didn't deserve the praise and accolades that you received."

"I am so sorry Harry. I never properly apologised for that"

"But you were right, don't you see?"

"I have no special powers. I only defeated Voldemort because I had a piece of him inside me-I did nothing special. This whole nonsense about the prophecy—that 'He has powers that the Dark Lord knows not.' It was a whole load of crap."

"Oh Harry. I was so wrong about you. I wish that you could see yourself as others see you-as the selfless caring young man, who thinks nothing of sacrificing himself for others. How could I have ever thought otherwise?"

"I fear that my abuse of you for so many years, and Albus' unrealistic expectations of you, and your relatives' mistreatment of you, have all contributed to your poor sense of self-worth."

"It's okay Dad."

"It's not okay. I made, what should have been the best years of your youth at Hogwarts, a living hell, and all because I thought that you basked in glory and that you were a carbon-copy of James Potter, whom I held a childish grudge over imagined wrongs."

"Look at me Harry."

Harry's eyes flicked up to meet his father's dark gaze.

"You deserve this honour. You have sacrificed your youth , endured pain and suffering because the Dark Lord made it his personal goal to hunt you down, and through all the grief and abuse you've suffered in your young life, you never once became bitter like me. You remained pure and kind and forgiving…like your mother."

Harry blushed. "You make me sound like some kind of saint."

Severus' mouth quirked slightly. "Oh, you are no Saint that is true. You are stubborn and have a fearsome temper, run headlong into danger without a thought to your own personal safety, like to bend the rules-"

"I do not!" Harry protested. "Okay…maybe a little."

Severus held up a finger. "But my point is that you have earned respect and admiration from even those who sought to scorn you, myself included. Do you know how you've done that Harry?"

"No," he whispered.

He placed his hand over Harry's heart. "You showed me what was in here. You displayed immense bravery in the face of enormous odds and never thought twice about what you were sacrificing in the process."

"Dad...please. I really wasn't that brave. In actuality, maybe I was being a coward-"

Severus' dark eyes shadowed with regret. "You could never be a coward son. If anyone is unworthy of this honour tonight...it is I."

"You can't seriously believe that While it's true that you may not have always been kind to me and most times, a downright bastard, you nevertheless always protected my sorry hide, even when I was rushing headlong into danger without a thought to my own safety, as you so often have reminded me throughout the years. Yet, despite being convinced that I was unworthy of my fame, you still protected me, time and time again. And after my fourth year, you went back to spying for the Order, placing your life in terrible danger."

"Harry, I did that out of shame and regret for having revealed the prophecy to the Dark Lord and ultimately being responsible for your mother and Potter's deaths. I was not the altruistic hero that you paint me out to be."

"Look...I can't say that I didn't have those same thoughts myself, and I'm not as all-forgiving as you make me out to be. I've hated your guts many times throughout the years and especially after Sirius' death. I blamed you, but not as much as I blamed myself."

Severus shook Harry lightly by his shoulders. "You are not to blame for Black's death. It is time you accepted that. Black cared about you and would have done anything to protect you. There is only one person to blame for his death, and that is the person truly responsible."

"I think that we are both truly in need of letting go of the past and looking forward to the future. Perhaps we have both been conditioned by our upbringings and circumstances along the way, to always think that we are unworthy of praise or acceptance. It is soon to be a New Year, and I think that it's time that we truly start living in the present and looking forward to the future, instead of harping on the past and our regrets."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Harry turned around and studied his reflection in the mirror. "You know...I think that I like the new me. I mean, I do sometimes miss seeing my old face in the mirror, but my hair is definitely more well-behaved."

"Too bad you weren't," Severus mocked lightly.

Harry grinned. "I like to think that I have character."

Severus smirked. "You certainly do."

"Besides, you've got to admit Dad, that I've kept your life from being too boring all these years. I mean...if I'd been a good little boy, followed all the rules, never had any life-threatening adventures, what stories would you have to tell your grand-children?"

XXX

Ginny took one last critical look at herself in the mirror, pushed back a stray wisp of hair and pinned it up again.

"Ginny…Harry's here." Her father's voice echoed from downstairs.

"Okay. Be there in a minute."

Ginny's stomach swirled with butterflies. It was odd she thought, how though she'd been in love with Harry since the first time she'd laid eyes on him at the tender age of ten-years-old, she still felt that shiver of anticipation at the thought of seeing him again.

She was so proud of Harry-he was her hero...in more ways than one. He was the man that she wanted to be the father of her children. No other man made her heart beat so fast, and whose mere touch made her skin tingle. No other man's kiss could ever feel as sweet on her lips.

No...Harry Potter was the man she'd dreamt about all those years ago when her mother had read Cinder-Witch to her, and he was her handsome prince that had swept her off her feet.

XXX

"Harry," Ginny said breathlessly. "You look so handsome."

And indeed he did, in his dark green robes that matched his emerald-green eyes so perfectly.

"And you look beautiful too," Harry whispered, as he gently placed her midnight blue cloak over her slender shoulders; it matched her silk gown of the same colour.

XXX

Harry's palms were moist, and his heart gave a little flutter. It wasn't all because of his nervousness about the award banquet. No...he couldn't wait to see Ginny again.

How on earth was he going to endure the wait, until he completed his Auror training, and until Ginny graduated from Hogwarts…to make her his wife? It felt like an eternity to wait until they could be together as man and wife.

Harry had waited all his life for someone like Ginny. How could he have been so blind not to notice how what he'd been looking for, had been there all along?

Harry rapped on the weather-beaten door twice, before it opened to reveal Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley's brow furrowed. "Harry? What are you doing back here so soon, and where is Ginny?"

"What do you mean Sir? "I've come to pick up Ginny. Is she ready yet?"

The colour drained from Mr. Weasley's face.

 "Harry…you and Ginny Flooed from here, not ten minutes ago--to the Ministry!"