As the days passed, Harry began to finally feel as though the effects of the potion might just give him an advantage against Voldemort that he'd not anticipated.

They were outside, practicing their Defence spells in the warm summer breeze; Harry was surprisingly holding his own with the more experienced and powerful wizard, and each day Harry could swear that he could feel his magic become more powerful. The only problem was controlling the bursts of powerful and accidental magic; thus the need to practice outdoors, where he couldn't singe the curtains with an Incendio, or blast through the windows, simply by casting a mild Blasting spell.

Severus finally decided that he'd had enough of cleaning up shards of broken glass off of the carpet and putting out the flames that crept up the parlour wall, in a fiery inferno. Mind you... his back garden was now spotted with patches of charred grass, and the once proud standing oak tree; it's branches of lush green leaves swaying in the gentle wind; was now split down the middle.

Harry figured that he might survive the upcoming battle with Voldemort; once he learnt to contain his new powers and learnt to direct them properly; he hoped that he would eventually be undefeatable. Snape warned him though, not to be too cocky; many a powerful duelist met a sticky end by being over-confident and by not paying attention to his opponent's strengths as well.

Harry fell into bed each night, exhausted, but relatively content with the turn that his life had taken. He still couldn't help the twisting in his gut that he experienced each time that Snape's mark burnt a beckoning call to Voldemort, and he missed his friends terribly.

His birthday was next week, and he wondered if he dared suggest to Snape about having his friends over for a visit. But then, he was also worried for their safety. Maybe it was best that they didn't know exactly where he was.

Snape had allowed him to send messages to them, through a secure floo connection. Harry thought that owls were the only Magical post method that existed, but apparently there was another method of delivering post that unlike an owl, couldn't be traced. He wasn't allowed to mention his location, but he'd at least been able to maintain some contact with his friends.

Later that evening, Harry was seated in his favourite cozy armchair, watching the flames licking the logs, and basking in the glow of heat emanating from the hearth. He removed his glasses, and swiped a hand across his tired eyes.

Snape who was sitting in the chair beside him, lifted his obsidian eyes form the heavy potions tome that was sitting on his lap, to look at Harry.

“Perhaps it is time for bed,” he said dryly, as he observed the yawning boy, who was desperately trying to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said reluctantly. He really had no desire to leave the warm comfort of the chair, to brave the long trek upstairs to his room.

Before he could make a decision, Snape suddenly clutched his forearm.

“I'm being called.”

Harry also experienced a slight twinge in his scar, but since Snape had been quite insistent on forcing Occlumency down his throat, so to speak, Harry 's proficiency in the Discipline had drastically improved, to the point that he was able to prevent most mental attacks, even in his sleep.

Harry had a bad feeling though. He just felt an ominous feeling settle over him, and cold dread settled in his stomach.

“Please don't go sir,” Harry suddenly blurted out.

Severus scowled at him. “Don't be a fool,” he snapped. “One does not just ignore the Dark Lord's call, Potter.”

“I know, but I have a bad feeling,” Harry said, jumping up from his chair, to clutch onto Snape's shirt.

The man lifted an eyebrow, and Harry snatched his hand away, as if he'd touched hot coals.

“Are you Occluding?” Snape as sternly.

“Yes, but I just have a feeling that something is going to go wrong. Besides, it's only a matter of time before Voldemort catches on that the potion is fake. Why can't you stop spying now?” Harry pleaded.

Severus hardened his heart to those pleading emerald eyes; it wasn't easy sometimes to be firm with Harry when he looked at him with those eyes...so much like Lily's.

“That's enough Harry,” he said sternly. “You will go to bed, and I will do as I must. End of discussion,” he said firmly.

“But-”

“Bed, Harry,” he repeated, louder this time.

Harry crossed his arms against his chest, and glared at Snape.

“Fine,” he snapped, grabbing his blanket off the couch. He turned to stalk off, but Snape grabbed his arm in a firm grip, and spun him around.

“Do not take that tone with me.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

Snape let go of Harry's arm and lifted his chin gently.

“I'll be fine Harry. I promise,” he said softly.

Harry nodded, but felt his throat constrict, as he watched the man walk out the door.

Harry tried desperately to sleep, but the growing feeling that something wasn't right, only blossomed. Harry knew that Snape would be furious with him, for lowering his defences, but he just had to know what was going on.

Harry lowered his shields and prepared himself for the mental assault that he knew would be forthcoming. His scar, which had been only slightly twinging earlier, when he was Occluding, now burnt as though it was on fire. Harry clutched his forehead, and pressed his eyelids firmly shut.

He tried to focus on the visions that floated through his mind, instead of the pain that was burning like a white-hot poker iron, across his brow.

----------

“Severus, good...you have arrived,” Voldemort said softly; his ruby-red eyes glowing in the darkness.

Severus disciplined himself to remain calm as a growing suspicion settled in his stomach. He made sure that his shields were firmly in place; the Dark Lord could not sense any weakness, or vulnerability.

“Yes Master,” he said, bowing down on one knee.

“You may rise Severus,” Voldemort said silkily. “I do believe that there are some things that we need to discuss.

Severus' mouth suddenly felt dry.

“What sort of things Master?”

“I need to clarify just what benefits the Semper Purus potion is supposed to possess.”

“As we have discussed Master, the potion will enable the male child to have a special bond with their sire, and award him powers beyond that of the normal wizarding child.”

Voldemort's eyes smouldered; he ran a long fingernail across the stem of his wand.

“It is curious is it not Severus, that after several weeks of consuming the potion, that not one of the children have exhibited any sign whatsoever of any special powers beyond that of the odd bout of accidental magic in the very young?”

Voldemort came closer, and Severus noticed that the throng of Deatheaters behind him, moved closer as well, encircling him.

“Can you explain this Severus?”

“Of course Master,” he said, while steeling his nerves to show no weakness. “The effects of the potion are not immediate. I have explained this already.”

Before Severus knew what was happening, the Dark Lord had his wand pointed at him, and through a blur of pain, Severus was suddently writhing on the ground.

“Do you know what I think Severus?” Voldemort said, his lips thinning in a cruel sneer. “I think that Belatrix was right; I think that you have betrayed me.”

“No Master, I would never betray you,” Severus said weakly.

“Liar,” Voldemort spat, pointing his wand again at Severus and laughing cruelly at the groans of pain, coming from his once most-favoured follower.

Voldemort beckoned to the other Deatheaters. “I do believe that since your betrayal affects not only myself, but all of my loyal followers, I believe that they should be allowed to exact a little revenge as well.

-------

Harry jumped out of bed quickly, and stumbled to the door, on limbs that felt like jelly.

If he hadn't been clutching on the banister, Harry would have fallen down the stairs, as he kept tripping over his feet.

He grabbed some floo power off the mantle of the fireplace, and threw the glittering powder into the flames.

"Professor Dumbledore's chambers."

Dumbledore had arranged to have a special floo connection, between his chambers, which were right off of his office, and Severus' cottage, so that Severus and Harry could contact him, in case of emergency.

A very sleepy-looking Dumbledore's white head appeared in the flames; his bleary eyes, crinkling with worry.

“Is something wrong Harry?”

“Yes sir, come here quickly. Something's happened to Professor Snape,” Harry's voice rose shrilly.

Harry jumped back quickly as Dumbledore's tall form came through the floo.

Dumbledore brushed off the soot from his night shirt, which if Harry hadn't been so consumed with worry, would have found amusing that even Dumbledore's nightshirt, was adorned with stars and moons.

Dumbledore placed a frail hand on Harry's shoulder, and said softly, “Please explain to me about Professor Snape, Harry.”

“I know that I was supposed to be Occluding sir, but I just knew that something was going to happen tonight, and I saw Voldemort torturing Professor Snape.”

Harry looked up into Dumbledore's soft blue eyes. “Please sir, we have to help him.”

Dumbledore straightened up, and looked at Harry sadly. He shook his head.

“I fear that it may be too late my boy. We aren't even certain where Professsor Snape is.”

“No!” Harry said fiercely; he could feel the blood rush to his ears. “He put his life on the line for all of us and I won't just stand around and let him die.”

“Harry, you must calm yourself, I-”

“I. Will. Not. Calm. Myself,” Harry bellowed. The roaring in Harry's ears became louder, and he could feel a warm glow envelope him. He imagined Snape's stern face, and began to think of all that the man had sacrificed for him over the last few weeks. He would not simply stand by and lose another father-figure, at the hands of that Megalomaniac.

“Harry, are you alright?” Dumbledore's voice trembled.

The air around Harry crackled with electricity, and bright light outlined his form. The walls began to tremble, and the curtains fluttered with the sudden whirl of wind that whipped around the room.

Harry was angry; Harry had never been so angry in his life. Voldemort was not going to get away with it anymore. He'd lost too much, and he wasn't going to lose Severus too.

Suddenly there was brilliant flash of light, illuminating the window panes, like jagged streaks of lightening, and then the rumble of thunder, but the weather was clear outside.

Albus' mouth dropped open, when suddenly, the still form of Severus appeared lying in the middle of the living room.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said softly to Harry whose eyes were still clenched tightly closed.

Harry's eyelids snapped open at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, and he gasped when he saw Snape lying in the middle of the parlour floor.

“Professor,” Harry said frantically, as he kneeled before the unmoving man.

Snape's face was marred with gashes, and a large bruise was forming on his cheek. Congealed blood was caked in his greasy hair, and his face was chalky- white.

Tears rolled down Harry's face. “No,” he cried, “please don't leave me Severus, please don't leave me...dad”

“Harry.” He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up into Dumbledore's lined face.

“Please help him sir,” Harry pleaded.

“I'll try Harry. Go alert Poppy that we'll be flooing Severus through.”

Harry nodded.

---------

“He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll recover,” Poppy told a weary-looking Harry, who hadn't left his adopted father's bedside since he'd been brought in yesterday. He'd refused to sleep, or to eat, until he knew that Snape would be alright.

A wave of relief washed over Harry, and he took Snape's cold hand in his.

“You hear that sir, you're going to be alright.”

“Potter, let go of my hand, unless you'd like to be scrubbing cauldrons for the unforeseeable future.”

“Professor! You're awake!”

“I do believe that that is obvious Mr. Potter.”

Harry grinned. “Yes sir,”

“You look like hell Potter.'

Harry looked down at his crumpled clothes, and smiled.

“I suppose I do sir. I suppose I do.”

-------

“I don't need your help Potter,” Snape snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of walking."

“Yes sir,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

They were finally going home, after Snape's lengthy stay in the hospital wing. Of course the man was not what one would call a model patient, and tried to sneak out of the infirmary, at least three times a day.

Poppy, after learning of Harry's new powers, called upon him to cast a powerful monitoring charm to alert them to Snape's endeavors to escape; despite Snape's threats to ground him for the rest of the summer, burn his Firebolt, make him scrub a hundred cauldrons, and make him write one thousand lines:

I will not use my new and improved super powers to conspire with the evil medi-witch, Madame Pompfrey, to imprison my Professsor and father, against his will in this dreadful hospital wing.

Harry recognised empty threats when he heard them. Of course...he hoped that they were empty threats!

---

Harry held firmly onto Snape's shoulders, as best as he could, considering that the man was much taller than him, as they hurled through the floo.

Of course, it was Snape who ended up holding onto Harry, as he almost smashed his face, glasses first onto the floor.

He straightened up, shook the soot off of his jumper and trousers, and looked incredulously at Snape, who was, even when recuperating, clean as a whistle. It wasn't fair, Harry grumbled to himself.

Harry stomach flipped-flopped, when the room suddenly went black. He clutched in the dark, and grabbed onto Snape's arm.

The lights suddenly went on, and Harry's eyes widened when he saw a room full of people grinning at him.

“Harry Birthday Harry,” a loud chorus erupted.

Harry, stunned, looked up at Snape. “How? When? I mean, when did you do this?”

The corner of Snape's mouth lifted in a smirk. “I had the help of a certain House Elf, named Dobby.”

“Dobby?”

Suddenly, a bright-eyed Dobby appeared before Harry carrying the largest birthday cake, that he'd ever seen.

“Was Harry Potter surprised, sir?”

“Yes Dobby, this is spectacular! Thanks.” He turned to Snape, emotion clogging his throat.

“Thank you sir. I can't believe that you did all of this.”

“Neither can we,” two tall redheads piped up, each taking one of Harry's arms and leading him over to the couch.

“Fred? George?” Harry shook his head. Never in a million years would Harry ever imagined that Snape would have those two pranksters in his private living quarters.

But then again...Snape was not the same man that he'd been only a few short weeks ago.

Harry looked around happily, as he shoveled another piece of birthday cake into his mouth. Yes, he still had Voldie after his hide, yes, he still hadn't completely gotten over the loss of Sirius, but as he looked around the room and saw The Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, Professsor Dumbledore, and most of all Snape, Harry knew that he could handle whatever the next year would throw at him.

Harry lifted his eyes up to see Snape's own obsidian eyes, glimmering with emotion, and he mouthed thank you to the man.

He no longer saw his most fearsome professor when he looked at the reserved man; he no longer saw the cruel vindictive professor that had made his life a living hell for the past five years.

When he looked at Snape now, he saw a man who would sacrifice his life for him, who did everything in his power to keep Harry safe, cared for, and healthy.

When he looked at Snape...he saw a father.