Harry breathed a deep, deep sigh of relief. It was over. Somehow they’d done it.

He dropped his arm from where it had been waving the Hogwarts Express goodbye after the train rounded the bend. Somehow, he and his Dad had survived their first term at Hogwarts as father and son. He turned and grinned at Snape, who was waiting a few feet away to escort him back to the castle. Tonight was their last night at Hogwarts before heading back to Tharabraye Manor for the winter holidays. His Dad had managed to get Professor Sinistra to watch the remaining Slytherins for him, meaning he and his Dad were now free until the start of the Easter term!

Except for the homework. Harry scowled slightly at the memory. Whoever came up with the idea of work over the holidays ought to be rounded up and shot. So what if their OWLs were next year? Those were more than a year away; even Hermione wasn’t worried yet.

The walk back up to the Castle was… nice. The air was chilled and there was a stillness in the air which only accompanied the colder days of winter. Harry had to bite back a grin as his father shot the well-frozen Lake a death-glare. Harry knew when to not push his luck, but the fact that someone resented a Lake because it had hurt Harry was…

Well, like he said, the walk back was nice.

The Quidditch pitch caught the corner of Harry’s eye and he bit his lip.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I go flying?”

Snape relocated his glare so it also included the Quidditch pitch. “Term is over, Potter. All your little team-mates have gone home for the holidays and I’m not letting you fly unattended.”

Harry winced internally. Still overly protective? Definitely. “But you’ll be here, won’t you? If you’re still here, I won’t be on my own.”

His Dad shot him an incredulous look. “And you expect me to stand here in the freezing cold watching you complete pointless acrobatics?”

Harry shot him a glare of his own. “No. You put on extra thick robes this morning. I was there, remember? And you’ve got your cloak. Besides, I thought you could come with me.” Harry tried to make his eyes as wide and pleading as possible. Ginny had said that when she pulled that with Mr Weasley, she was able to get away with murder. Harry may not be a girl, but he was more than prepared to try anything that would give him the upper hand. (Besides, it’s not like anyone his own age was around to witness it).

And then – lo and behold – it worked.

Snape rolled his eyes and huffed, but let Harry steer them over to the broom shed with the minimum amount of grumbling. Harry was simultaneously stunned and elated, even though in the end he couldn’t persuade his Dad to fly with him. Still, there would still be other times.

Harry snagged one of the old school brooms and spent the next half-an-hour practising loop-the-loops and hairpin turns. True, his Firebolt would have handled better, but the last thing he wanted was to test his Dad’s patience, waiting for him to run up to Gryffindor Tower and back again. Besides, Harry found he didn’t care his manoeuvres weren’t as fancy as they would be normally. The sheer joy he could feel when he turned the broom towards the stands and waved at the figure standing there… and having the figure wave back… was indescribable.

Harry’s cheeks ached from the cold and from grinning too much when he finally came to land. He would have liked to spend longer up in the air, but even wearing that thick cloak, Snape had to be getting cold.

Harry rushed up to the figure striding to meet him. “Was I any good?”

Snape rolled his eyes and cuffed the back of his head, which somehow turned into his hand settling on Harry’s shoulder. They began to walk towards the Castle. “You know it was, you brat.”

“Yeah, but did you think it was good?”

Snape looked down to where Harry was still captured by his guiding hand. “I think once again Slytherin is going to be sorely challenged for the House Cup this year.”

Harry grinned. That sounded good enough to him.

The rest of the day passed quickly in the quiet Castle. Harry was busy packing; getting Hedwig and Salem ready for their departure the next day and trying to think what he’d need to bring and what he’d need to leave behind.

Snape, naturally, was already packed.

Still, it took right up until dinner time for the chaos on his bed to even look remotely organised. Their lunch had been a quick sandwich in Snape’s quarters, but Dumbledore had insisted that they spend dinner up in the Great Hall with the rest of the staff and the students who’d remained behind.

Harry turned and smiled at the mirror. “We’re goin’ home tomorrow, Shadow. I know how excited you’d be if you were here. All the things you’d want to do once we got back... Talk t’you later. I’ve got to go to dinner.”

oooOOOooo

Shadow froze from where he’d trudging diligently along the path and cocked his head in surprise as he heard Harry’s voice echoing from behind him. Spinning round, his eyes desperately searched the surrounding mist... There!

Harry.

Sitting on the bed in an unfamiliar room.

But still. Just. Harry.

Shadow didn’t even think, just ran, harder than he could ever remember running in his life before, and flung himself at that small, shimmering square.

The world shattered around him with an almighty crash and he found himself falling, falling, before landing on something that let out a sharp “Oof!” of surprise. Shadow would have seconded that thought if he’d had any breath left in his body. There was colour! Colour was everywhere for the first time in what felt like months.

Broken glass surrounded him and the person he’d landed on, and Shadow felt a moment’s chagrin. Then the person beneath him struggled up from under the pile of clothes they’d been trapped under and Shadow found himself staring into a pair of wide, green eyes.

Harry’s eyes.

Before Shadow could even draw breath to yell in delight, a pair of arms came up around him and grabbed him – so firmly he couldn’t breathe at all. At least, that was the only explanation he could come up with for the sudden tightness in his throat.

Harry was shakily whispering the same thing over and over, “You came back. You came back!”

Feeling utterly shattered, Shadow could only bury his face in his brother’s chest and think, So I did.

oooOOOooo

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

Severus jerked upright from where he’d been napping on the couch. Something was wrong; Harry was screaming… 

He only got halfway to his feet before the bedroom door burst open and expelled… not one but two Harrys.

What?

He was hallucinating. Or dreaming. Must be.

The Harry in front was grinning fit to burst, clutching the hand of the other Harry and dragging him after him. The second boy had a shy, almost sheepish smile on his face and…

The penny dropped.

Severus couldn’t breathe. He just sank back onto the couch and let the first Harry – his Harry – throw his free arm around him. The other boy – Shadow, must be – hovered in the background, watching with a well-bitten lip caught between his teeth.

This is unreal.

Now he had had the chance for his brain to catch up, the other boy did look slightly different. Harry had grown a good couple of inches since the previous summer. Harry’s features had become sharper – more defined – over the passing months. Shadow looked even younger than the Harry Severus had first seen after Lily’s charm had worn off months ago: young, frightened, vulnerable. Though he still had the soft brown hair and bright green eyes, his face was more rounded and he looked altogether smaller.

Harry had been talking straight over Severus’ thoughts. “I told you. I told you! Shadow’s been real all along and it wasn’t me imagining it. He’s here! Shadow’s found his way here! I knew you could do it.”

This last was said to the boy Harry still hadn’t let go of, and who hadn’t let go of Harry. That alone was telling. The boy smiled back and swayed a little on his feet.

“Harry.” Severus put a hand on Harry’s chest and pushed him gently – but firmly – out from the one-armed hug he was inflicting on Severus. “Let the boy sit down. He looks ready to pass out.”

Harry grinned and obligingly let go and stepped back.

Severus stood from the couch and caught hold Shadow’s elbow, intending to draw him over and plonk him down on the cushions, but suddenly found that he couldn’t due to fact the young boy was now clinging to his waist and making a sound like a wounded animal.

“Shadow!” Harry had looked utterly stricken from the first gasped sob and it seemed like any second now Severus would have two inconsolable children on his hands. Harry reached out and tried to touch Shadow’s shoulder, but the younger boy was shaking too much.

Severus sighed and pointed at the couch. Is it too much to ask for just for a moment’s peace? “Sit!” he ordered. Harry sat; his eyes were still wide and horrified. Severus manhandled the younger boy over and managed to manoeuver him into a sitting position leaning into his side. Not that that was too difficult; the child had morphed from ‘stiff as a board’ into ‘rag doll’ in a matter of seconds, legs sagging underneath him. It looked like Severus had relocated to the sofa just in time.

“Alright. Alright.” He rubbed rough circles on the child’s back. Harry reached over and grabbed the younger boy’s hand. “That’s enough now. You’re not injured. You’re not being tortured. Nothing’s coming to get you. So calm down. That’s enough.” Severus was careful to keep his voice level, well aware that it wasn’t the words which were important in the situation, but the tone.

Harry’s white face stared up at him. “What’s wrong with him?” he mouthed, looking completely helpless.

“Shock. The boy has obviously been frightened for a long while. And now he feels safe. Something I’m sure you’ve experienced yourself before, yes?” He probably shouldn’t be so blunt seeing as the only reason he recognised the symptoms and knew how to cure them was because of Harry’s previous reactions to situations, but, well, he’d been asleep and, more importantly, half an hour ago Shadow hadn’t even been real. Not really.

Harry relaxed, tension leaching out of him in a whoosh of breath and shot Severus a relieved look. “Oh.” He squeezed Shadow’s hand tightly and shook it a little to get his attention. The boy didn’t look up, but the keening lessened in volume. “Hey. Hey, Shadow. ‘S’OK. Just me and Dad. You know you’re safe. It’s fine. And we’ll never send you away again. Promise. Right, Dad?” Harry shot him a challenging look.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the tone but took the cue. “Certainly not. What did you think we were going to do? Leave you out on the doorstep for the milkman? Knock you over the head and abandon you in the woods? Poison you and pickle you for potions ingredients? Get the Headmaster to…”

There was a wet sniffle-chuckle from his midriff. Severus wrinkled his nose in disgust, using the motion to disguise the relief on his face.

“Well, now I just feel stupid,” a weak, shaky voice admitted. And there was another shock. Harry’s voice had started to break during the past term. This boy’s hadn’t even started. “And there I was thinking I’d have to tip the milkman.”

Severus looked down at the bowed head. “Well, there can’t be too much wrong with you if you’re making off-colour jokes.” Thank God. “So if you’ll excuse me, there is a Pepper-Up potion in my office with your name on it.”

Severus stood, pushed the small body into Harry’s arms without fineness and left the room. And a large Firewhiskey for me, he added silently.

By the time he’d returned, the two boys were leaning their heads together and whispering as if sharing secrets. Severus watched them for a moment. A lot of the tension had left the younger boy’s shoulders and Harry had so much honest joy on his face…

Severus found he couldn’t bear to be excluded from this moment, no matter how much it might be more advisable for him to step back and let the boys reconnect. The knowledge that this second boy – this changeling – was as real as Harry had said, that he was truly Harry’s brother, then that meant he had a second son.

A second son.

When months ago he hadn’t even counted on having one.

So, call him selfish, but he wasn’t going to miss a single moment if he could help it.

Shadow took the potion with a hoarse “Thank you,” when he handed it out and made a face exactly like Harry’s would have been when the steam piped out of his ears. It was fascinating to watch the resemblance.

Shadow, he noticed, was avoiding his gaze and leaning further into Harry’s side away from where Severus was looming above him. Severus took a seat in the armchair off to the side. He wasn’t surprised at the embarrassment or the lack of trust from the child now despite the fact he had been clinging to Severus earlier. He had simply been the only unthreatening adult in the vicinity – someone big enough and scary enough to protect him from the monsters (real or imagined). That initial forced closeness didn’t equal camaraderie – it didn’t even equal trust. After all, they had never even truly spoken to each other before today. The only other time he’d met Severus, Severus had been a party to banishing him to whatever hell he had found the strength to crawl out of. But this boy clearly trusted Harry and if Harry trusted Severus, then…

Severus wasn’t under any illusions that he knew this child just because he knew Harry, just because he loved Harry. This was a completely separate person, no matter how similar their mannerisms, so to just expect them to fall into a loving family bond like they’d known each other for years was laughable. But if there was one thing Severus knew for certain, it was that he’d try his damnedest to get to know this boy, and that he’d do everything in his power to protect him and to learn to love him. And Severus had always been a man of strong convictions.

And in the meantime… Severus hid a smile behind his hand as Harry tugged on the other boy’s tangled hair in an attempt to get him to laugh. In the meantime they both had Harry to help them.

Severus settled back deeper into his chair. In a little while he’d have to contact Albus – inform him of the situation, enrol the child in Hogwarts, order dinner from the kitchens and a thousand other things – but for now, he was quite content to listen to the snapping of the fire and to the quiet voice of the young boy as he tripped over the story of what had happened to him.