The meeting in the library that night was tense. Harry was still a bit sore with Hermione’s actions that day, and he found himself angry at her. He had every right, he thought, as she seemed to give him notice, only to snub him by walking away. If it had not been for Neville, Harry wasn’t sure he could be trusted in the same space as Hermione at the moment. But as soon as that thought occurred, it sounded far too much like something Snape would think, so he pushed it aside.

Walking over to the table the two Gryffindors inhabited, Harry gave an uneasy smile. “Hi,” he greeted softly.

“Hi, Harry,” Neville grinned easily, while Hermione gave her own awkward smile.

Sitting down with his two friends, Harry supposed that he could not just sit there and glare at Hermione, or talk to Neville the whole night, as it seemed Madam Pince was stalking about, kicking out students who “didn’t know what a library was for.”

Pulling out his books, parchment, quill, and ink, Harry set to work writing all of his homework that was due the next day. After the night before, he hadn’t had much time to do anything yet. Strangely, it made Harry feel terribly unorganized and even a bit vulnerable even though the year before he had put off doing his homework until the morning the assignment was due.

Looking back on it, Harry realized that he had never really liked doing that, but he always did it. That was what Gryffindors were supposed to do, right? Test the limits, see how far they could go? Well, Harry was in Slytherin now, and if a Slytherin wanted to test the limits they didn’t go head on. No, they studied the options, watched others, made plans, and that’s what Harry, in a since, had been doing his whole life; watching and waiting to see what he could and could not do. Strange, he had never thought of it as a particularly Slytherin trait, but after this summer, he was beginning to see just how Slytherin he really was. And if he hadn’t been much of one before, he certainly was one after the summer, after Snape had drilled study habits and homework at him, forcing him to come up with cunning ways to get out of chores or with getting what he wanted.

The three students sat very quietly next to one another for over ten minutes before it seemed Hermione had had enough of the silence. For just a moment, Harry pitied her. Only a few months ago, such a strained silence would have worn him down too, but after spending most of his time with Severus, a man that usually did not talk unless he had something important to say, Harry had learned very quickly to accept quiet. Keeping quiet had saved Harry and Severus several arguments, the boy was sure.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Hermione blurted out.

Harry stared at her for a moment, trying to understand her rushed words, but she sighed and repeated, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look like I was snubbing you, I just wanted to get Ron to come back and talk to you,” she blushed deeply. “I thought I could make him see reason.”

Although it was a good excuse, Harry was still a bit angry. He had always liked Hermione, but she had a tendency to miss the obvious, like how it looked bad to run away from a person that was supposed to be your friend. But then again, that was just Hermione, wasn’t it? She couldn’t really help it…not anymore than Harry could help being Severus’s son.

The sudden thought of his father chilled Harry for a moment. No matter how many times he and Snape talked together civilly, or ate together, brewed together, it always hit him in a strange way to actually refer to Snape as his father, even in his mind. At times, it was like nothing had changed between them, as Snape scowled blackly at him or snapped at him for doing something wrong, but there were also the times when he was surprisingly soothing or even, dare he think it, caring; fatherly?

Pushing that thought into the far corner of his mind for the moment, Harry tried focusing back on his friend. “It’s okay,” he tried to smile back. But was it? He had been really hurt when he had thought she had left him to take Ron’s side. The thought of Ron at the moment just had Harry seeing red, and he did not want to see Ron for a while. Ron had been a prat to Harry once too much, and Harry was convinced that if Ron still wanted to be his friend, then the other boy had to not only get his act together and apologize, but he had to show that he really did care about their friendship.

But Hermione didn’t seem to notice Harry’s pensive state at the moment, and instead smiled warmly at him. “Thanks,” she muttered softly. “Now then, what homework haven’t you done?”

A bit peeved that Hermione would assume that he hadn’t done any of his homework- never mind that he hadn’t really done any of it, Harry tried to calm himself down and remember how he used to act all the time when he was around the pushy little witch. “Well, I didn’t have time to do any of it last night because of a meeting with Dumbledore…and Snape.” He decided that it was wise to leave out Sirius, especially with Neville sitting there. But Harry wondered if he should not just include Neville in everything…

“Meeting? What meeting?” Hermione asked, a frown on her face. Because Harry was no longer in her house, she no longer knew where he was at what time, or what happened to him when he got back to the dorms. She did not like being left out of anything, nor did she like information being withheld from her.

“Just a meeting where I explained what happened over the summer with them,” Harry fought hard not to scowl. Why was he so annoyed lately? “And they just talked to me about being in Slytherin now and what’s expected of me,” he added. Technically speaking, that’s what the meeting was supposed to be about, but it had taken a rather…different turn.

Beside him, Neville squirmed uncomfortable. “That must have been terrible,” he winced in sympathetic pain. “Was Snape awful?” there was fear in his wide eyes.

Although someone else’s fear really wasn’t something to laugh about, Harry had a hard time not snickering at Neville. What would happen if the other boy found out that he was actually Snape’s son? Harry bet that after the boy fainted, he’d be very wary of him for a few days. But he was sure once Neville realized he wouldn’t try to suck his soul out through his eyes things would go back to normal between them more or less.

“He…wasn’t that bad,” Harry lied, and the other two knew it, but had no idea of what the truth actually was. “His actually been pretty good to me…overall.”

“What did he tell you when he found out you were in his House?” Hermione lowered her voice, but there was the unmistakable of excitement to it.

Thinking back on the first night after he had been sorted, all Harry could image at first was the absolutely panicked face of his father after he had grabbed him and sat him down once out of the Great Hall and all that he could hear was his father saying, “This is not good, Harry!” But all that aside, all Snape had said was to keep sharp and stay out of trouble, which of course, Harry was slightly insulted at as he never really got into trouble, trouble got into him…but the argument sounded much better in his head than actually saying it out loud.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Harry shrugged, frowning. “Just not to get into any trouble and ‘no more Gryffindor nonsense,” he tried to mock his father as best as he could. He was a little sorry he looked like James because he real face would have made it more like his father and therefore more humorous.

Hermione rolled her eyes while Neville looked worried. “You better be careful with him, Harry,” the other boy said. “If Snape’s mad at his own House there’s not much hope for the rest of us, is there? And he doesn’t like you at all.”

There was a moment when Harry truly wanted to argue that statement, but he decided that he had better not. It was better that everyone, except for those few students directly involved, to believe that everything was still, more or less, the same with he and Snape. If someone believed that the two might actually be, heaven forbid, tolerating, never mind liking each other, then Harry was sure he’d once again be thrusted into the spotlight, a place he did not want and did not like to be in. He had been doing a lot of thinking and he only wished that the Triwizard Tournament would come sooner so that everyone would switch their attention to that instead of to him being in Slytherin.

“Well, I think this year’s going to be a bit different,” Harry said dryly. “Snape doesn’t have a choice but to be nicer to me because Dumbledore won’t be so tolerating this year I think.” And it was true, Harry thought. Now that Snape was no longer a spy, no longer had to pretend to hate absolutely everything that breathed, Harry could not see the Headmaster putting up with too snarky man when it came to the students.

“Harry,” Hermione said lightly. “Perhaps you had better tell Neville what happened this summer,” she suggested softly.

As Neville’s eyes lit up with wonder and curiosity, Harry wished he could have hexed Hermione’s chair leg so she’d fall out. He did not really want to go around telling the whole school about his summer, and about how all of his friends thought he was dead. He had told the Weasleys and Hermione because he had trusted them above all else, which now he wondered if he should have trusted Ron; and even though he did trust Neville, Harry would have still liked to make the choice of when or if he told the other boy.

Neville must have seen Harry’s distress because he looked down at the table. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, Harry. I understand.”

Those words successfully made Harry feel guilty, as though he’d just kicked a sick puppy, and he knew that he had to tell the other boy. After everything Neville had done for him that day, and in the past, he owed it to the Gryffindor. “I do trust you, Neville,” Harry started. “But this is a big secret.”

Neville’s round face nodded as he looked back up into the Slytherin’s green eyes. “Is it all about what happened this summer? I mean with everyone thinking you were dead?”

The question startled Hermione and Harry so bad that they were reduced to staring Neville like lack-wits with their mouths open. It took a moment or two, but Harry recovered to ask, “How did you know about that?”

Knowing that he had said something wrong, Neville blushed furiously. “Well, you see, my Grandmother told me,” he said quietly. “Dumbledore told her.”

At first Harry was quite surprised that Dumbledore would go around telling others about such a thing, but when he thought about it more, he supposed it made sense. After all, Neville’s parents were in St. Mungo’s because of their involvement in the war against Voldemort and he had been told that they had been part of the Order of the Phoenix the same as his own parents and step father; perhaps the Headmaster felt that it was the Longbottoms' right to know certain Order facts.

“Well, yeah, about that. But did he tell you or your Grandmother that Snape came to my house this summer?” Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. At Neville’s shocked expression, Harry went on. “Yeah, he got hurt by Death Eaters and was running from them. He was a spy for the Order, and I helped him out this summer.”

“Really?” Neville gasped. “And he…he didn’t do anything to you? I mean....you helped him?”

“What could I have done?” Harry shrugged. “And it wasn’t so bad, I guess. He was…a little…short with me at times, but it wasn’t as bad as school…sometimes.”

“Could he have had something to do with you being in Slytherin now?” Neville asked uncertainly.

The word ‘yes’ almost flew out of Harry’s mouth, but he kept it in. “I don’t think so,” he shook his head instead. “He was only there for a few days before he left,” Harry explained. “But I think that’s why he’s been so…tolerant of me so far, because I helped him.”

The other two nodded before changing the subject. Draco Malfoy came in later, sneering at the group before he went with Crabbe and Goyle to another section of the library. “I didn’t think those two would ever set foot into a library,” Hermione glared over at Malfoy’s two goons.

“I didn’t think they knew what a library was,” Harry snorted before turning back to his essays.

The three worked on their homework in silence for over an hour and a half before Hermione looked over and saw that Harry had finished his homework for the next day and was working on some that had been assigned that day. “You’re finished with your others already?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Harry frowned at his friend. “Why?”

“Nothing,” her eyes widened for a moment. “I just didn’t think you’d want to stay here and keep working on more once you were finished.”

“I might as well,” he turned back to his parchment.

“Well, I’m done with mine too,” Neville smiled. “What essay are you working on now, Harry?”

“Potions,” he answered without looking up. He had a hard time not biting his quill, like he used to, but the past summer when Snape had noticed him doing it, he said it was a disgusting habit, and set about reforming his son. It had been a rather tough lesson, considering Severus had gotten angry enough to put what Harry could still swear was hot sauce on the tip of his quill once. After that, he never really did it again.

“Harry,” Hermione spoke up again. “How did you know the answer to that potion today in class?” she asked, clearly frustrated.

“Huh?” Harry looked up. “Oh, I guess I just remembered reading about it,” he shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

The witch looked as though she were going to say something else when there was a sudden shadow cast over them. They all looked up to see Professor Snape standing above them.

The Potions Master sneered down at all of them before his snapped his eyes down on Harry. “It’s nine o’clock,” he said simply before turning towards the door. 

Sighing, Harry packed up all of his things and shoved them into his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you in trouble already?” Hermione’s tone was accusing.

“No,” Harry snapped. “I just have to be in my dorm at nine. ‘It’s for my own protection,’” he mocked. “Night.”

“Good night, Harry,” Neville gave the best smile he could considering Snape was still there, glaring at him.

Once Harry was within reach, Snape pushed the boy in front of him out the door and into the hallway. Part of it was just for show, but he also did not want to boy’s back to be exposed, even if no students would dare try anything against Harry concidering Snape was with him now. But then again, Severus had never been a very trusting person, and he was not taking any chances. Dumbledore left the boy in his House so that Severus could protect him, and protect him Severus would.

The two walked on in silence for a while until they started going down into the dungeons. Severus stopped by his classroom and ushered Harry inside before closing that door. “I thought you were taking me to my room?” the boy asked.

“I am,” Severus nodded, “but I needed to get something out of my desk.”

While Severus walked towards the front of the deserted classroom, Harry shifted on his feet. “I noticed you began work on your potions essay,” Snape asked after a moment, closing his desk drawer with a sharp click.

“Yeah,” Harry set down his bag and walked up closer to the front of the room and leaned on a table. “Hermione was suspicious over my new study habits,” he smirked while crossing his arms.

Severus had to fight off a sneer as he saw, yet again, a very cocky James Potter in front of him. But he pacified himself with the thought that underneath all of that Potter-ness, the boy would be looking much more like him rather than anyone else. Another sense of satisfaction swelled up inside him at the thought. The image of James Potter rolling over in his grave appealed very much to the Head of Slytherin’s sense of vengeance.

“Was she?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “No doubt she was jealous of your success today in class.” He went over to sit on the table by his son.

At this Harry smirked. “Yeah, she did ask me about that. She doesn’t like being wrong. But it was nice of you not to take points off,” the boy’s green eye glistened with mischief.

Severus snorted. “She should not get use to it,” he growled. “It was a onetime thing.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Harry chuckled.

Severus growled at the boy, but he had to admit that he liked this easy, teasing manner. It felt like the summer when they had both been calm. But thinking about the easy manner also led Severus to think about his son and Sirius Black and the night before. He still felt a bit cold from the morning’s confession, but he did his best to push his own discomforts aside at the moment.

“Will you continue to write to Black?” he asked after a moment, wanting to probe the boys thoughts without it looking too suspicious.

“Huh?” Harry looked at his father closely, who seemed to be staring intently at the bored. “I had wanted to. Why?” he scowled, seeming to come to a conclusion. “Do you not want me to?”

Ignoring the resentment, Severus shook his head. “No. I believe it would be wise for you to continue your correspondence with him,” he said slowly. “I believe that it would lessen suspicion.”

Surprised by the apparent concern to Sirius, Harry gawked at the Potions Master for a long time before his mind seemed to catch up to him. “Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” the professor nodded once. “It would seem odd for you not to write to him. Especially after last night’s…discussion.”

Although Harry was pleased, he could not help but frown. “So…does this mean that you’ll let Sirius be my godfather?” he asked carefully.

Scowling Severus could be seen fighting to keep the disgust of the thought off his face. “I have not had time to think about that,” he continued to glower at the thought of Black. How he would have liked to just erase Black from history, but the man had the happy ability to make everyone like him. It was revolting, but Severus knew that he could never really get rid of Black and still be happy.

The boy’s face fell at the news. “Oh,” he said lightly.

“Harry,” Severus stood and looked at the boy. “You must understand that I truly do not like Sirius Black. He and I have never gotten along.”

“Couldn’t you try to get along with him?” Harry pleaded, looking up with disarming green eyes.

Seeing Lily’s eyes sparkling up at him made Severus’s stomach clench painfully. “It does not work like that,” he frowned. “He and I have never gotten along, Harry.”

“But you still expect me to get along with Malfoy?” Harry snapped. “It’s not fair to expect me to-”

“Black and I have known each other much longer than you and Draco have known each other,” Severus growled. “Black has done more to me than simple pranks or starting pointless rumors.”

“But it’s still not fair.” Harry looked away from his father. “Malfoy hates me.”

“While I am sorry for that,” Severus crossed his arms, “this arrangement is for both of your benefit. I can watch out for you both.”

“Why do you still like Malfoy?” Harry found himself becoming a little jealous. “He hates you, and you still want to look out for him?”

“He is my godson,” Severus glowered. “And his life isn’t exactly what you think it’s been.”

Harry snorted. “It must have been hard having parents and being rich, getting everything he’s always wanted.”

Severus glared at his son fiercely. “I will not get into this with you,” he snapped wanting nothing more than to scream at the child like he would have last year just to relieve tension. “But as for now,” he said realizing that he was just making the day worse, “I believe it’s time for you to go back to your dorm.”

Harry pouted for just a moment before he saw his father’s face. Noticing that the man was livid, Harry opted to keep quiet. After all, Snape did have a rather nasty temper, and it truly did not take much to get him riled up.

With a sigh, Harry looked down at his shoes. “I’ll try to get along with him.” And he really did want to try. Draco wasn’t so bad in the truce, maybe things could be better if they tried to get along? It really couldn't hurt. If he failed to get along, Malfoy would still be a git, but at least Harry would know what he was up against.

“Very well,” Severus nodded. “And you will have to be very careful when writing to Black,” he almost winced at the name.

“I will,” Harry promised.

“Then come,” Snape walked towards the door. “I think it’s time for you to get back to your room.”

Harry stood and began to walk towards the door with his father and stopped. He did not like the thought of being at odds with the man after having such a good day. Why did they have to fight over Malfoy anyway? He wasn’t worth that. “I’m, uh…I just…” he started, but did not know what to say.

Severus seemed to understand the meaning of the boy’s rambling and he nodded. “Yes,” he acknowledged.

Not knowing what he was really doing, Harry found himself hugging the Potions Master around the waist, not caring if he felt like a four-year-old. “Thanks. For everything.”

The day’s tension and misery melted off of Severus like a sheet of ice, and wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close. “There is no need for thanks,” his voice was soft and soothing.

Perhaps the day had not been as terrible as he had thought?