When Harry stepped back through the floo into Severus' quarters he felt as if he's been pulled through a quagmire; it didn't help that the elder wizard was stood tensely only a few feet away, apparently awaiting his return.

"Well?" Severus asked immediately, looking pale and stressed, with his arms folded across his chest. His dark eyes raked over Harry's face. "I take it he asked you?"

Harry nodded. "And I know you said to wait, to speak with you before deciding, but I couldn't. I'm sorry. There was only one answer I could possibly give." He braced himself.

Severus sucked a breath in as though he'd been slapped in the face.

"This is precisely why I said to wait," he said forcefully, pacing the breadth of the room before swooping back to the attack. "Can you honestly say that you have had time to reflect upon this with all due consideration? To even begin to understand the stakes which are at foot here?"

Harry shook his head. "I know what I'm doing," he said earnestly.

Severus' lips curved into an ugly sneer. "The more time I spend around you and witness your moronic behaviour, the more obvious it becomes that you know next to nothing and understand even less! There are consequences to your decisions, you gullible, little fool. You will return to Dumbledore and explain that you need time to reconsider."

Severus was at his overbearing worst, with his eyes flashing, as he pointed towards the floo.

Harry'd had enough. First Dumbledore and now Severus, he was fed up of being made to feel guilty. "Just shut up," he said brokenly. "I've made my decision, alright, and I'm not going back to the Dursleys. I can't. I just can't do it. And yes I know that it'd only be for a short while and that I'm letting everyone down... I know all that. But I'm still not doing it."

"You're not going back there." Severus repeated slowly.

Harry watched him, as realisation dawned on him. "You thought I'd said yes?" Running a hand through his messy brown hair, he sighed and collapsed onto the sofa, looking quizzically at the Professor. "You thought I'd agree to go back there?"

"I must confess, I had thought your Gryffindor foolhardiness would outweigh your reasoning," Severus said, before adding in less stilted tones, "You made the right decision, Harry."

"You really don't think I should do it?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"It would be tantamount to using you as bait to lure in as many death eaters as possible, to say nothing of the Dark Lord himself; of course I don't want you to do it. And that is without even starting to consider the sheer folly of placing yourself within reach of that abhorrent muggle. The fact that you recognised the idea for the lunacy that it is, that you decided this yourself...well, I'm glad I have no need to intervene."

"What do you mean?"

Severus sighed and resumed his pacing about the room. "The matter was yours to determine and I promised Albus that I would not influence you one way or the other, but I would have found it nigh on impossible to stand by and watch you make a decision which was so ill thought out."

"You'd have stopped me going back there?" Part of Harry found it hard to believe that Severus didn't want him to go back to the Dursleys. The plan itself makes sense. It's awful of course; terrifying in fact, but reasonable nevertheless; and if I didn't have to prove my dreams wrong, to stop them happening, I might have agreed...

Severus barely paused in his relentless patrol back and forth as he shot a brief glance towards Harry. "I would have done everything in my power to do so; I don't think I could have borne to do otherwise."

Harry took a deep breath. "I'd thought that I could always stay at Hogwarts this Christmas... or you know... maybe with you again, so we could keep training... if you didn't mind," he said biting his lip slightly as he waited for Severus to respond. There's no way I'm putting Ron or Hermione in danger if Voldemort's more likely than ever to attack.

"That would be acceptable," Severus replied in a distracted tone.

"The only thing is, Dumbledore says if I did go back there Vol- I mean You-Know-Who could be caught, and it might be the best opportunity we'll ever have." Harry still felt twisted up inside with guilt.

"I have no doubt that Albus' intentions are sincere." Severus' countenance became hooded once. "But he is, nevertheless, utterly wrong-footed in all of this. Just because one wishes something fervently enough does not make it so; the Headmaster has a misplaced sense of optimism, even at the darkest of times. If I'd had any idea that he was even going to consider such recklessness I would have held my tongue about the Dark Lord's intentions regarding the Dursleys to say the least. I... I should have..." the professor's voice trailed away. He stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of his nose whilst breathing shallowly.

He's in pain again, Harry realised, noticing a slight shudder running through the Professor's shoulders.

"You're still hurting, aren't you?" He asked, biting his lip and hoping Severus wouldn't explode at him again in another fit of temper. "Please, let me get the Forgeni potion from the store cupboard for you."

Harry knew the store cupboard where Severus kept his most valuable potions and the rarer ingredients in his lab, and he didn't feel that he could bear to continue to stand by and watch the man suffer any longer.

"It won't help," Severus said bleakly.

"I thought you said it was the best?" Harry was already on his feet.

"Harry," Severus stopped him before he went any further. "Forget the Forgeni potion, just pour me a fire-whiskey."

Harry hesitated for a moment, wondering if Severus was serious. It was barely eleven o'clock in the morning and although he'd often seen Sirius drinking liquor, hell he'd even drank with him a lot of the time, it had always been in the evening, after dinner. Even Uncle Vernon, for all his faults wouldn't drink before six. Meeting Severus' sombre eyes he shrugged slightly before heading over to the decanter on the sideboard to splash a couple centimetres of fire-whiskey into one of the crystal glasses nearby.

"Do you want any water or ice?"

"No."

Severus took the glass from him, but made no move to drink it straight away. "He told you about the prophecy?" he asked, swirling the amber fluid aimlessly from side to side.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but he said that prophecies don't always come true, that it's the fact that Vol-" Severus' acidic glare reminded Harry to rephrase his sentence. "Sorry, that You-Know-Who, chose to believe it that makes him keep coming after me."

Severus took a sip of the fire-whiskey silently. He sat down on an armchair, holding onto the glass. The silence hung heavily between them.

"You seem remarkably composed considering," the Professor finally said succinctly.

Because I now know my dreams don't have to come true! Harry thought to himself."Well I always knew he was going to keep coming after me," he said aloud, shrugging slightly, "even if I didn't really understand why. The reason behind it all doesn't really make a difference."

"Hmpf." Gripping the glass tightly, Severus drained its contents morosely. Harry left soon after that, sensing the elder wizard would prefer to be alone, as he seemed unwilling or perhaps unable, to reply in more than monosyllables.

Severus therefore had nearly an hour of brooding solitude before the floo flared up once more and Dumbledore stepped through. He looked up briefly, before dropping his gaze once more to the glass he was cradling in his hands.

Ignoring the silence and blatant lack of greeting, Dumbledore wordlessly accio'd a chair to join the younger wizard.

"I suppose Harry has already spoken to you."

Severus didn't reply at first, but knocked back the contents of his glass in one fluid motion.

"You already know what I think about that; I will not help you persuade him."

Dumbledore sighed. "It seems that I have stumbled across his Achilles heel as far as his relatives are concerned."

Snorting Severus muttered the incantment which filled his glass once more with the amber liquid, without him needing to bother to get up and fetch the decanter. He was just raising it his lips when Dumbledore wordlessly banished every trace of the fire-whiskey, leaving him clutching an empty glass.

"Lessons will resume after lunch," the Headmaster explained mildly, "now that I'm back."

In a burst of temper, Severus hurled the glass against the fire place with all his might, where it smashed, sending shards of glass across the room.

"I won't try to pretend that everything is alright, Albus!"

"Severus," Albus drew even closer. "My dear boy-" His pale blue eyes were almost luminous.

"If you try, once again, to tell me again that everything has worked out for the best," Severus interrupted in a hoarse tone, "I won't be responsible for my actions."

"My dear child," Dumbledore replied in the gentlest of tones. "I'm not dead yet. Do you really think that I am so oblivious to your feelings? Of course it grieves me to see you suffering, and if I could choose my time and place, it would of course be many years hence, but what will be will be. As you know, I would much rather light a candle than curse the darkness, and so long as I can see an end in sight to this war before I pass away I will die happy-"

"And what of us?" Severus said bitterly, cutting off the stream of platitudes. "Those that you leave behind? You might be perfectly content to resign yourself to dying in a matter of months, but have you even thought about your responsibilities and obligations? Have you even considered how your death will tear into the heart of the Wizarding world?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I do not flatter myself that I will be so sorely missed. There are other Wizards who can take my place as a focal point for the Order."

"I cannot comprehend how you can be so obtuse." Severus exclaimed in disbelief, holding his hands up in an exasperated gesture. "You're much more than a mascot, as well you know. The wizarding world does not even begin to comprehend a fraction of the work you do for wizardkind; your cloaking spells alone have prevented the Dark Lord's utter dominance from sweeping over us unchecked..."

"Severus," Dumbledore placed one hand on the younger Wizard's shoulder, drawing him towards him and choosing to disregard the man's customary reluctance to allow anyone to touch him voluntarily. "Everything will be alright, it really will."

For once Severus didn't shrug away from the human contact, although his head sagged forward.

"I wish that were true," he admitted bitterly. "Although we both know there's no way that it can be."

That afternoon the lessons resumed as usual and Hogwarts began to return to some resemblance of normality. Many of the children noticed that the Professors still seemed preoccupied, and some of the elder children continued to worry about what this could mean. Potions classes that afternoon were particularly dire. Severus made absolutely no pretence at teaching and simply revealed the same list of long, impossible questions scrawled in his spidery writing on the board, for each and every class, and then barked orders for the pupils to answer them silently. One look at his scowling countenance led to everyone's utter compliance despite the work being hopelessly difficult, even by Snape's usual tough standards. Several of the first years from the class preceding Harry's emerged in tears.

"Jen, it's ok," one of the Ravenclaw girls tried to comfort her friend. "None of us were able to answer the questions and he can't put all of us in detention!"

"But I didn't even understand what the questions meant!" she wailed. "I want to look up the answers but I don't even know where to start!"

Neville looked utterly miserable at hearing they were having an impromptu test.

"I'd hoped Potions might be cancelled, but now we've got a test," he moaned. "Talk about the worse luck."

If anything he began to look even more wretched when he actually saw the questions they were supposed to answer.

Harry gave up on the test almost immediately and began to doodle on his spare sheets of parchment. Although his potions work had improved a lot over the past couple months, none of what he'd learnt seemed in any way useful to what the questions were asking. In any case, he was fairly sure that Severus didn't really expect them to be able to past this test; even Hermione was struggling if her hesitant writing was anything to go by. It seemed that Severus was just determined to inflict his bleak mood on as much of the student population as possible. No change there then.

At the far end of the room Draco gave the questions his best stab, as his Godfather would no doubt expect, although he felt sure that the questions had far bypassed even NEWT level work. A quick glance to the other side of the room assured him that his main rival, the mudblood, was finding it as hard as he was. Good; at least that's some consolation.

He frowned at the fourth question.

The dissociation of elf-shoots into its components in aqueous solution is an endothermic process. Write an expression for the acid dissociation constant in Shrimpnel's solution. Use this to show the progression which would be observed for any sample when half of the acid has been neutralised by a solution containing beetle juice at an increased temperature whilst stirring anti-clockwise.

What was that about? Hadn't Severus mentioned an article in one of his Potions journals about Shrimpnel's solution in connection with the new research which was being conducted for potions masteries? But what was it that he had said?

At the end of the long hour, when the restless and ruffled class were finally dismissed from the dungeons, Draco lingered behind.

Sitting motionless at his table at the front of the room the Professor eventually cast a quick charm which swept the student's test parchments into a neat stack which he tucked under his arm.

Would anyone have got any of the answers right? Draco wondered distractedly as his troubled eyes took in his Godfather's appearance.

"Severus?" he asked cautiously. He wanted to ask if he was alright, he certainly looked terrible, but restrained himself knowing only too well what response that would get.

"Draco," Severus at last acknowledged him. It was neither invitation nor dismissal, but Draco chose to follow him back to his rooms.

Draco eyed the fragments of broken glass underfoot as he entered the room but didn't make any comment.

"Is it true then, what they're saying about Dumbledore?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know what you mean, I thought you were coming here for a lesson, not to indulge in idle gossip," Severus said expressionlessly.

Draco, sat down, undaunted by the response he'd received. In fact, he decided, that responsive is informative if I interpret it carefully. Severus, is claiming not to understand the question, rather than simply refusing to answer it outright, as he often does. What with that and him drawing my attention back to Occlumency, it seems that he doesn't want to talk until my mental shields are strong enough to avoid compromising either of us.

Although it is possible that Severus is just being awkward and wants to shut me up.

"Of course," he replied smoothly, doing his best to brace himself and ready his shields to full strength.

Half an hour later, feeling as though he'd been booted in the head by a hippogriff, Draco held up a hand.

"I- argh- enough, Severus!"

His Godfather glanced at him disdainfully.

"I hardly think I need to tell you that you have much work to do, Draco," he said rising and heading over to his desk to begin his marking.

Draco remained on the sofa while he recovered, as was his usual custom; as soon as he felt capable of doing so he stood and headed towards his Godfather.

He peered at the smudged paper that was currently being marked. Ron Weasley's. Each answer seemed to consist equally of writing and crossings out. He'd ended up putting:

The solution is acidic. The sample would become very more acidic, but only a little bit, because of the beetle juice.

At the bottom of the parchment Severus had scrawled.

A set of completely erroneous answers, which makes me wonder why you bother coming to class at all. Whatever low expectations I may have had before about your intellect, I did at least assume you could read and had some, albeit limited, cognitive skills; these assumptions appear to be unfounded.

Draco smirked; he hoped the marking was proving cathartic for his Godfather's bad mood.

Severus glanced up. "I thought you said you'd had enough practise for today?"

"I have," Draco said hastily. There was no way he wanted to face another bout of that again tonight. "I wanted to talk to you about something else."

Severus looked at him disapprovingly and swept the rest of the test papers out of reach, before Draco could have a chance to leaf through them and see what the mudblood had written.

"Your father doesn't expect you to have the gall to lie to him, which is the only reason that he hasn't legilimised you up till now. Let me tell you, if for any reason he does decide to do so, he will find out everything."

"I know I need to practise," Draco sounded slightly abashed. "And I'll spend longer on it from now on."

"See that you do," Severus instructed him. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I had a letter," Draco said fishing it out of a pocket in his robes, "From Mother. She isn't awfully happy actually. That women you've stuck her with, well she's hardly adequate company, not when one's used to being at the pinnacle of pureblood society-"

"Really," Severus drawled, "I wonder why none of this surprises me? Let me see, perhaps because I predicted this exact eventuality before we made the arrangements for Narcissa? I said that she would soon become discontent at being out of the limelight, and you said that you understood, but that it was a small price to pay in order to have her safe from your Father, and everyone else."

"Look, you know I'm grateful for what you've done, Severus-" Draco began a little disdainfully.

"Oh yes, you've made that very plain," Severus interrupted him, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why do I sense a contradiction is about to follow?"

Draco flushed slightly.

"Well, I do appreciate it; you know I do! It's just that she requires better company and surroundings than she has at the moment. She's miserable, Severus."

Draco offered the older wizard a blank piece of parchment. Severus accepted it and ran his wand over the letter a few times while murmuring enchantments. The professor raised an eyebrow, when the writing appeared, before starting to read rapidly; the parchment was over a foot long and the elegant writing which had appeared was tightly crammed into every available space on each side.

"Well she certainly seems bored," Severus remarked sardonically after he'd finished.

"I can't ignore her unhappiness," Draco told him. "I have to do something."

"What do you suggest?" Severus sneered. "A meal out in a plush restaurant off Diagon Alley? She wouldn't last five minutes, Draco."

"I thought she could go abroad," Draco said, ignoring his Godfather's rude tone. "To France or Italy, someplace far enough for her to be safe, where she could live under polyjuice or glamours..."

Severus shook his head, his dark eyes meeting Draco's with finality.

"She is safest here; and that is the greatest duty you can do for her, Draco, keeping her out of harm's way, however 'tiresome and inconvenient' she may find it. As for the letter, I assume you plan to destroy it?"

"Well, no," Draco looked slightly taken back. "It does have protections on it."

"Oh yes, that would be the protections that it took me less than a minute to break through? Foolish child! Do you suppose your Father could not do the same? What do you think he would do to you if he were to read this? What do you think he would do to her for that matter supposing he finds her?"

He passed the letter back. "Burn it now."

Draco looked unhappy, but followed his Godfather's instructions and set the parchment aflame. Severus waved his wand to gather the ashes into an empty vial.

"I will dispose of these," he said, clearly determined to take every precaution.

"So you're sure you're ok?" Ron asked once again, as took one of Harry's rooks.

"Yeah, everything should be alright," Harry replied.

Hermione watched them playing chess at the foot of the sofa which she was sat upon. They were spending the last part of the evening together in the Gryffindor common room. Harry'd explained earlier about the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore the night before, and how reassured he felt now that he knew his dreams wouldn't all have to come true, and were at worse, a series of possibilities, or greatest fears, like Severus had said ages ago.

Harry was clearly trying to show his friends how fine he felt about all of this. Hermione would have felt more confident if he'd actually looked a fraction as relaxed as he tried to portray, but the truth was he seemed as distracted as ever, with dark shadows, like bruises cutting deep in under his eyes.

"Found anything interesting?" Harry asked peering over her shoulder at the notes she was looking through, after Ron had won the chess. "What're those?" he said pointing at a tall stack of papers.

"Back copies of The Irish Wizarding Herald," Hermione replied. "I filled in a form at the library to request all the back copies."

"Didn't Madam Pince want to know why you needed them?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Not really; I asked for an English Language version of the Tibetan Transfiguration Monthly last year," she replied. "So she didn't really seem to think anything of it."

"Anything interesting?" Harry asked picking up the paper from the top and flicking through it.

"I haven't had much time to look yet," Hermione said. "Although I found another book which mentions Vulnus Ictus, well not by name as such, but you can tell it's the spell it's referring to. Here, I'll show you. Ron, pass that one to me please..." She stopped and looked strangely at Harry. "Are you ok?"

Please. Please. Please. The innocuous word seemed to echo strangely in Harry's mind.

"Yeah fine," he said, chucking the paper back down on the pile. "Just a headache."

"Are you gonna be alright for the match against Hufflepuff tomorrow?" Ron asked worriedly. "This'll be the first proper Quidditch game that you'll have played all year."

"I'll be fine," Harry reassured him, hoping he was telling the truth. "It's nothing, honestly."

Harry truly hoped it was nothing, he'd felt dizzy and nauseous, at odd times over the past couple of days. A few of the fifth years had been suffering from heavy colds recently, and he really hoped that was all it was.

If he was honest to himself though, it felt a bit similar to how he'd been at other times before when he'd had his strange dreams, and he could certainly do without any more of them.

Thankfully the next morning Harry didn't feel too bad as he went to change with the other Gryffindors. He'd heard some of the Slytherins muttering at breakfast time, about how he shouldn't be allowed to sleep in their dorms while playing for another house, but he'd managed to ignore them. At least his roommates had been ok. Theodore had ignored the matter completely, as if he couldn't be bothered to descend into petty quidditch rivalries, and Jasper had even gone so far as to wish him luck. Connor hadn't said much, but then he hadn't said much at all to Harry since the night out by the lake, although Harry was aware of the other boy watching him at odd times. He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about how things had ended up.

Strapping on his shin guards Harry did his best to concentrate on the talk Angelina was giving them.

"...so you need to keep up your guard at the back, and not let them box you in. Harry hasn't been able to be at any of the practises, but we'll be flying in the formation we planned, freeing him up, and giving him chance to play..."

Completely irrationally Harry's breath hitched in the back of his throat and he felt a wave of dizziness and dread descending upon him which somehow he managed to fight off. He shook himself mentally. Where did that come from?

Half closing his eyes, he leaned back against the wall and let the rest of the team talk run over him.

"...so he can catch the snitch as quickly as possible without letting the bludgers get at him. There's other things you have to remember..."

"C'mon then, Harry, you ready?" Ron stood by the door of the locker room waiting for him while the other Gryffindors were already heading out to the Quidditch pitch. He looked at Harry a bit closer. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah," Harry stood up and grabbed his Firebolt. "Let's go."

The first ten minutes of the match were fine. Harry felt in his element as the wind rushed through his hair and he soared above the spectators, high in the sky. He'd hardly flown this term, what with one thing and another and although he'd missed it, he hadn't realised how much.

Squinting against the glare of the sun, he scanned the horizon for the snitch which was nowhere to be seen. The Hufflepuff seeker was far away from him, but from his meandering path clearly hadn't found the snitch either.

Then a sudden wave of nausea hit Harry and his sight seemed to flicker.

He ran a hand over his head, groaning softly, grasping his broomstick with the other. He focused all his effort on keeping his mind focused on what he was doing, reminding himself that he was flying, of the sensation of the cool breeze blowing against him and the sight of the witches and wizards far beneath him. He began to feel a little better and it seemed as though he'd managed to fight off another dream, for the time being at least.

Moments later he had to grip onto his broomstick for dear life as a second wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. Fifty feet below Ron noticed him weaving from side to side.

"Harry!" He called. "Are you alright?"

"Ughhhhhhh," Harry said indistinctly. His stomach was churning and he started to descend as quickly as possible.

The next bout of vertigo hit him as just as he was approaching Ron's level. Ron could see that Harry was in trouble as he veered sharply to one side, ignoring the game he headed towards his friend to try and help.

"Harry!" Ron reached out to try to steady the other boy's broom.

The other Gryffindors seemed to have realised that something was badly wrong as they too began to call out.

"Ron-"

"Harry-"

"RON!"

"WATCH OUT!"

One moment, Harry was trying to focus his vision, gradually feeling more like his old self as his best mate steadied his broom, the next he was jarred awfully and sent flying backwards.

Blinking groggily, it took Harry a long time to work out what had happened. Ron isn't holding my broom anymore, but I seem to be able to balance now... Then Harry became aware that the Gryffindors had all landed, although some of the Hufflepuffs were still flying overhead.

What happened? he wondered in confusion.

By the time he reached the ground all of the Gryffindor team seemed to be in a huddle with some of the spectators who'd gathered around. Dropping his broom on the ground, he ran over to join them.

The sight that met his eyes caused his stomach jolt once more. Ron was lying pale and unconscious, a trail of blood ran down the side of his face.

Harry felt his mouth going dry. "Ron?" he croaked.

"He got hit by a bludger," Ginny told him, with unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "The Professors managed to cast a few protection charms, but he still hit his head when he landed."

Events unfolded quickly after that. Poppy appeared and grimly cast a diagnostic charm, before levitating Ron to the Hospital ward. She curtly told everyone that visits would be allowed later, once they knew how bad his concussion was, so Harry ended up back in the Gryffindor changing room, sat dazedly on a bench as the rest of the team showered and changed. There was a bleak mood in the room, although Dumbledore had announced the match would be rescheduled for a later date, Harry felt sure that no one would want him to play again, but none of that mattered compared to Ron being alright.

Stuffing his school uniform in his bag, still clad in his quidditch kit, Harry felt drawn towards the hospital wing.

Poppy looked up from her patient in exasperation. "Not another one of you! I've only just got rid of Hermione!"

"Please, couldn't I stay just for a little bit?" Harry asked pleadingly."Just until he wakes up?"

"Well, we have no idea when that might be, Harry," Poppy said with a huff. "It all depends on how bad his head injury was." Her face softened a bit at Harry's worried expression. "I suppose you could stay for a few minutes, if you sit quietly and call me if he stirs."

Harry nodded and plonked himself down in a chair beside Ron's bedside. After a casting a monitoring charm and rubbing an ointment very lightly into Ron's head, Poppy left the room.

Harry stared down at his friend.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Then feeling somewhat stupid at talking to someone who was unconscious, held his hand very gently. For a second the air seemed to tingle around him and his grip on Ron seemed to heat up, then he almost jumped out of his skin as his hand was roughly yanked away from his friend, when he'd been sure they were alone.

"Get up," Severus told him furiously. He gave him a little push towards the door. "Get walking."

In a haze, Harry left obediently, shooting a reluctant look back over his shoulder towards Ron.

The professor waited until they were in the privacy of his study to say anything further.

"What did you think you were doing?" he asked angrily. "How could you be foolish enough to try that again, even after everything I'd said?"

Harry recoiled from the vehemence in the older wizard's tone.

Of course: Titan Navitas...Was that what I'd been about to cast?

"I didn't think..." Harry's voice trailed off. He couldn't help but consider that Titan Navitas might actually be a good idea, Ron looked awfully sick.

"Is that it?" Severus demanded. "All you have to say after endangering both your own and Mr Weasley's lives so rashly?"

"I didn't cast it," Harry said a little resentfully. But I should have, he thought internally. If I had Ron would be OK by now.

"Because I stopped you," Severus scathed.

"Well you didn't complain when I used it to help you, did you?" Harry retorted defensively, although he immediately wished he'd kept quiet.

Severus looked simply irate, his lips pressing together in a grim line. For a moment Harry thought the elder wizard was going to hit him; he couldn't help but think of the dream he'd had, and the expression on Severus' face when he'd said "I hate you."

When he did at last speak it scarcely seemed any better. "I think you'll actually find I did, in fact; sometimes I really wonder why I don't just wash my hands of you, infuriating child."

Brought up short, Harry was quick to apologise.

"I-I didn't mean that. I just- I felt...I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apologies. I want you to do better in future," the elder wizard ground out.

"I didn't even mean to try to use Titan Navitas on him. It just kind of happened." The longer Harry was away from Ron, the more he was able to think the matter through clearly. What was I doing?

Severus frowned. "When the Dark Lord used that spell it became compulsive; he was addicted to using it. Do you feel as though it is similar for you?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I-I don't know. I wasn't even thinking about the spell until you stopped me, but then I just felt I could have used it without hurting him." How could I be so stupid?

"I trust you will do your utmost to guard against this in the future?" Severus' eyes bore down on him.

Harry nodded, feeling ashamed and avoiding Severus' gaze. "About what you said the other day, you don't have to let me, you know," he said in a quiet voice, twisting his sleeve around his fingers.

Severus frowned. "I don't have to let you what?"

"You know... have me stay at Christmas," Harry said awkwardly. "You've spent ages training me and you probably need a break from it all. I can just stay here, I did last year; it's only a few weeks."

"Foolish brat, I thought we settled all that already. You are one of the very few people whose presence I can actually find tolerable, that is, when you're not rushing around committing insanely dangerous acts," Severus added pointedly.

Harry nodded again, turning to go, but Severus held out a hand, stopping him.

"Before Ron got hit, you seemed to be flying erratically, are you unwell?"

"I... no...I just couldn't concentrate," Harry said. "I think I'm going to give Quidditch a bit of a rest for a while, actually."

Severus gave him a long look. "That may be for the best. You are also not to visit Mr Weasley again without me being present, understood?"

"What about if Hermione goes with me?" Harry suggested.

"She knows about Titan Navitas?" The professor asked, considering the request.

Harry nodded. "Just her and Ron."

"Very well, but you are not to touch him until he is well again."

The next day Harry spent the morning with Hermione, visiting Ron. The colour had returned to the ginger boy's cheeks and he looked almost back to his old self, sat propped up in bed with a mountain of cushions behind him.

They were just leaving Ron's room to head to the Great Hall for lunch when the Headmaster stopped them.

"Ah Harry, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "Do you mind if I interrupt you for a moment?"

Hermione watched the Headmaster as his gaze focused steadily on her friend; it was clear that she would be superfluous to the conversation.

"I'll see you up in a bit, then," she said. "I'll wait in the Great Hall."

Harry accompanied the Headmaster along the corridor.

"So has Mr Weasley quite recovered?" Dumbledore asked. "That was a nasty fall that he took yesterday."

"More or less."Harry replied. "Madam Pomfrey says he should be alright to return to classes in a couple days time."

"Splendid," the elderly wizard said cheerfully, leading the way up to his office.

"Yeah." Harry agreed.

The two of them sat down at the Headmaster's des and Harry's eyes drifted around the room, as he waited for Dumbledore to speak. On the desk, between a dusty looking pile of parchments, and a collection of empty vials of various shapes and sizes, lay a black and blue plastic watch. It was similar to the kind of watch that Seamus Finnegan sometimes wore, the first day back from holidays, before he remembered to take it off, as the battery no longer worked inside the castle.

This watch however was still working, with the second hand travelling around the face of the watch, somehow immune to the interference that magic usually caused electronic items.

Harry stared at it wondering why it seemedfamiliar.

"Ah, you've noticed the watch, my boy?" Dumbledore asked.

He nodded silently, as he suddenly realised where he'd seen the watch before, my dream, it was on my wrist as I walked up to the front door at the Dursleys!

"The watch is partly what I wanted to talk to you about," Dumbledore said. "I realise that what I told you the other day was a lot to take in, and I think I approached it all in quite the wrong fashion. You had a dreadful time this summer at your relatives and it is completely understandable that you are reluctant to return there. What with that and the possibility of attacks, well, I can quite see your point of view."

Harry's eyes remained glued to the watch.

"The fact is Harry, this is of course no ordinary wristwatch, it is in fact a grade 5 portkey, very valuable, and custom made. If you watch it closely you will notice the hands never point at twelve, you would need to turn the knob in order for them to do so, and that is the trigger for it to transport the wearer back to this room. It is charmed for protection against anti-portkey wards, and will work time and time again without wearing out."

I was wearing this, Harry thought, this portkey, it was on my wrist, ready to use.

"Why are you showing me this?" he asked.

"I realised that I should, of course, have shown you this straight away," Dumbledore said. "To provide you with some small measure of reassurance. At the first sign, sight or sound that anything untoward is happening you can use this to get to safety; indeed, if you have any problems, be them from your relatives, or if you just feel that you have had enough, you would have got a clear route out of there."

Harry looked at him wordlessly. He makes it all sound so easy, so reasonable, but I can't do it...

Mistaking Harry's silence for accord, the Headmaster continued.

"Your relatives, of course, would have a different arrangement. Clearly, they cannot know about the plans which are afoot, and so would be unable to take charge of their own departures. Instead there is a type of portkey for them which is like a necklace, invisible to the eye and charmed to remain unnoticed. These will be activated as soon as anyone apparates into or out of Privet Drive, and will bring them here, to safety."

"My relatives would never agree to even wear anything like that," Harry said. "They wouldn't trust anything that came from me, whatever I said it was."

"It's all been dealt with, my boy," Dumbledore said. "I made arrangements for the portkeys to be placed on your relatives last night, while they were asleep. They didn't notice a thing."

"What? You mean you've already done it?" Harry exclaimed jumping to his feet.

"It's just basic preparations," the Headmaster said. "If you change your mind about going back there, we need to have things set up,"

Harry felt as if things were spinning wildly out of control.

"But, I told you I'm not going back there," he protested, "And I'm not going to change my mind!"

"You didn't know about the portkeys before," Dumbledore pointed out. "I shouldn't have expected you to even consider it, until you knew everything in much more detail."

"You shouldn't have done all this," Harry said indicating the watch. "I'm sorry, but you're not going to make me change my mind."

"My dear boy," Dumbledore said warmly. "I wouldn't want to make you do anything that you didn't want to do. It is your choice completely, and the last thing I would want to do is pressurise you into anything you weren't comfortable with. The only reason that I went ahead with the portkey arrangements is because we have a very limited amount of time. At the end of this week it is only two weeks before the Christmas holidays, if you were to change your mind, there would have to be certain things in place for our plan to go ahead. If, on the other hand, you don't change your mind, we have lost nothing. Your relatives certainly aren't upset as they know nothing about it."

"Well, I'm really not going to change my mind. I think you'd be better to spend your time on a different plan."

"This is the best opportunity we have at present, Harry."

"Severus agrees with me," Harry said. "He doesn't think I should do it."

"Sometimes despite our best intentions we can become blinded to the best course of actions."

"That's pretty much what he said about you," Harry said bluntly.

"Did he now?" Dumbledore gave a thoughtful smile. "Well I'll let you into a confidence, Harry. Severus has grown very fond of you. Which is pleasing of course, particularly given your rather checked history with him, but it does make it difficult for him to be truly impartial in this situation, when he's worried about you getting hurt."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He didn't really think that Severus was fond of him or anyone else. Well, Draco perhaps, but that was it. He said it himself earlier, he can tolerate me being around if he really has to, but he wishes the war was over so he wouldn't have to put up with training me all the time.

"Ah well, Severus has always had a somewhat vitriolic manner, I am afraid my boy," Dumbledore said with a sad smile at Harry's clear look of disbelief. "Needless to say his actions may prove a better guide to his intentions, as with any Slytherin. I have no doubt you now realise how many times he has acted in your interest over the years, and of course the service he is doing for all of us in training you."

"He's taught me to occlude," Harry said.

"Indeed he has," Dumbledore said approvingly. "I hear you're extremely skilled at the art nowadays."

"Will you test me?" Harry asked suddenly. "To see if you can break through and legilimise me?"

"I suppose I could," the Headmaster answered. "Although, I am confident that from what Severus says you have little to worry about-"

"But, you're the most powerful wizard," Harry persisted. "Severus can occlude from you-know-who but you're the only person whose mind is strong enough to break his barriers, it makes sense that you should test me-"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I wouldn't underestimate Severus capabilities, my boy, as a Legilimens or an Occlumens."

Harry's heart began to race.

"But... You can break him? Surely you can legilimise Severus? Can't you?"

"Oh I daresay he's always been very careful to give the impression that I can do so," the Headmaster answered, clearly finding some amusement in the situation. "But I have no doubt he could resist me if he truly wanted to."

"But you must be able to legilimise him!" Harry repeated in alarm. "How did you even know that he could be trusted on our side, if he can occlude against you?"

"Harry," Dumbledore replied with a slightly reproachful note in his voice. "Come now; I understand you cannot wipe years of adversary away in one go, but you do know better than this."

"How?" the boy repeated insistently.

The twinkle died away in the Headmaster's eyes.

"Harry, there is no question in my mind that Severus is anything but truthful in his dealings with me and the Order."

"But what proof do you have? Do you actually know for sure?"

"Harry, it isn't a question of needing proof," Dumbledore began said sternly. "I trust Severus, can you really not understand that?"

"But-"

"But nothing," the Headmaster said sharply. "He's like a son to me. I trust him utterly; completely; absolutely. I'm not going to entertain these doubts, Harry; I won't hear another word. He has befriended you these past months and you are both very good for one another. If we are to succeed in these tremulous times we will need to stand together as a whole, can you not understand that?"

As Harry lay in bed that night Dumbledore's words ran around in his head.

Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have been naive enough to have welcomed a Death-Eater into the Order without any proof? Trust is all very well and good, hell, even I trust Severus, despite all the years when we hated each other, but surely he hasn't based everything on a hunch?

There had to be something more... something concrete. He must have used Veritaserum, or some other form of truth serum, if legilimency wasn't an option?

Then the memory of Severus' opinion about Aurors came to the forefront of Harry's mind. He'd said they wouldn't hesitate to use dark magic themselves if it could lead to a confession, and Severus had always hated Moody with a ferocity which made Harry wonder just what form the old Auror's interrogation of Severus had taken in the past.

Why would force have even been needed, if they'd been using Veritaserum?

Tossing and turning, almost sick from the stress of it all, Harry resigned himself to another night of disturbed sleep.

Then with a terrifying start he realised he was paralysed; the only parts of his body that he could move were his eyes.

Looking wildly around him, Harry realised he was no longer in his bed. He must have been hexed, probably by Petrificus Totalus, and from the greenery around him, he was deep in the heart of the forbidden forest. The undergrowth was thick, making the area around him dark, but between gaps in the trees he could see sunlight beaming down. He could smell the faint trace of earthy scent in the air. The breeze made a transparent, fine material flutter slightly against his face, and he recognised that it must be his invisibility cloak which was covering him. Then he was distracted by a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, over to the far left of where he was stood; the movement was shortly followed by a rustle of branches and trees, and then at once all hell seemed to break loose as Dumbledore appeared in front of him, retreating from a sustained attack by four masked Death Eaters.

The elderly wizard was breathing hard, and his jaunty green and orange cloak was torn and muddy, by contrast the Death Eaters were laughing and joking amongst themselves, whilst all the while throwing their deadly curses.

"Quasso Ossa."

"Ossis Effergo."

"Praefoco Prefoco."

"Minuo totulus!"

The last was a female voice, probably Bellatrix, Harry realised in horror.

Dumbledore had a powerful blue shield up which seemed to be absorbing, and even deflecting some of the curses and hexes back to his attackers, but he looked tired and worried.

From the sheer number of spells which were flying back and forth, Harry realised that Death Eaters were casting wordlessly, between the spells which they were shouting out.

A green flash shot from one Death Eater's wand accompanied by an awful rushing sound, and Dumbledore disapparated several feet to the side to avoid the curse.

"Lucius!" the female voice yelled. "If you kill him now, how will we have chance to play?"

Why didn't Dumbledore just disapparate far away? Harry thought desperately. Or fight back? He's a stronger wizard than any of the Death Eaters!

Malfoy evidently had the same concern, and didn't want to risk the fight continuing for too long, as he continued to relentlessly fire off Avada Kedavras, which Dumbledore miraculously managed to avoid.

Harry heard another 'Quasso ossa' being cast, the bone shattering curse, but Dumbledore's shield now seemed to be shimmering as it began to weaken under the sustained onslaught, how it had even withstood the furious attack up to this point was completely beyond him.

There was another sound behind them and Harry tried fruitlessly to turn his head.

"Severus. You're late." It was Malfoy's voice, Harry was fairly sure about that. His relief that Severus had arrived to help the Headmaster was mixed with fear that the two men were still outnumbered.

"Severus." Dumbledore was barely able to speak now, gasping for breath as he continued to hold up his shield, while the potions master stepped into Harry's line of sight. "You came."

"Yes, I came," Severus replied, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Do something! Harry thought desperately. Quickly!

Severus raised his wand towards the headmaster, then seemed to hesitate.

"Severus!" One of the other masked Death-Eaters shouted in disgust. "Are you just going to stand there?"

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Harry was distraught. Completely immobilised, he was unable to do anything but watch in horror as Dumbledore began to plead desperately for his life.

"Severus, my boy; my son; please."

But there was no mistaking the utter revulsion on Severus' face as he looked back at the headmaster. "Avada Kedavra," he said clearly in a tone filled with hatred, and a stream of green light blasted out of his wand in a whoosh which sent Dumbledore's body ricocheting backwards into the trees.

Harry's scream of anguish woke him as the Petrificus Totalus abruptly wore off his body. His shocked roommates sat up in bed, groping for their wands to cast Lumos, to see what the problem was, although they were now used to his nightmares and soon turned back over. Theodore even cast a silencing spell over himself, before going back to sleep.

Lying wide awake in the darkness Harry realised two things: he wanted proof that Severus truly was on the Order's side, and he was now determined to get it.