A blueish damp fog encircled the trees in the distance, a breeze is heard through the greenery but the air is so thick around him that it doesn't reach the depth of the grounds.  Harry's feet walk of their own accord, the too-long hem of his jeans becoming wet with the morning dew of the grass as he passes the rows of stony timelessness.  He wants to leave, he wants to go home where it's noisy and the sun actually warms him, but he's powered on, turning down a small path and ducking under the low hanging branches of the yew trees scattered throughout.  He can't see that far ahead, the background is strongly blurred, but that doesn't seem unnatural at the moment. 

He stops in front of a marker, the gravestone lovingly framed by a slow growing ivy vine, its leaves gently resting on the top of the stone as if in search of a shoulder to lean on.  Without his conscious doing, Harry's fingers reach out, and he notices that his fingers look older; they are tanner and encrusted with dirt, small nicks and cuts around the knuckles that seem slightly swollen.  He is alone, but he feels like he is quietly joined by another, when the latter's engraved name is traced over gently by his fingers.  He can't read the name, and the sense of calmness that had originally filled him now starts to slip away, pushed out of his chest by a slow ache.  He's been here before.  He knows this cemetery, he knows...A small laugh is heard from the dense fog behind him, a teenager's laugh that barks in ugliness and cuts across the rows of stones. He's heard this laugh years ago, echoing off a different set of stones in a faraway chamber.  Harry watches in horror as the words under his hand, the ones he's tracing absentmindedly, catch up to his brain and he reads them like Braille. Potter. The letters shift, forming another familiar word. Snape.  The last enemy that ... His stomach lurches, and suddenly he feels like throwing up everything he's ever known.

"Dad!"  Harry gasped, coughing into his pillow and jerking his legs around on the bed.  He didn't care how foolish he looked or where he even was, as long as he was not in the cemetery.  That he was back at Hogwarts.

A sudden shuffling noise to his left side caught his attention, and he hung onto the sound as if a life line, blinking rapidly and trying to lift his head from the pillow. It must have been a dream, as he was lying in a bed.  There was a black blur suddenly standing beside him, and a heavy palm placed on his back.  Harry squinted as whomever stood beside him gently rolled him to his side.  It was dark, much darker than the infirmary would normally be.  But why would he be in the infirmary? Harry tried to move his body and groaned at the residual ache that traveled up his arm. Right, the horcrux had attacked him, which would be why he'd expected the infirmary. Which meant that the black blur...

"You are a colossal and unequivocally rash idiot."  Snape muttered, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Harry's shoulder and contradicting the annoyance in his words.  A thermometer was then thrust under his tongue and gentle fingers raised his eyelids, a bright lumos spell making them dilate as Snape checked them.  Harry groaned, batting away Snape's cold hands.  A finger was placed in front of him and he was poked until he opened his eyes and followed Snape's finger, his gaze moving perfectly, or as perfect as it could get at three am.  Whatever Snape for looking for, he seemed to be satisfied with the results and let Harry go.

Harry scrunched his eyes closed again and whimpered as he curled up on his side, drawing his knees to his chest. Harry had no idea what time it was, but the room was rather dark and Snape was paler than usual, with dark rings around his eyes and thin lines of worry around his mouth. He'd probably been out for a while, then.  Harry didn't remember much after the badge attacked, just a feeling of panic, cold, and the sensation of being lifted up.

"I..." Harry started, trying to get his thick tongue to move.  A glass of water with a straw was placed in front of him, and Harry gratefully sipped it. He still felt a residual chill in his body; the cold cemetery had seemed very real.

"Shut up, Potter. Had I known it would be this much..." Snape trailed off, looking worn out.  The hand stopped circling and Snape moved to put the water glass on the table.

Harry snapped his head up, unable to hide the brief flicker of panic in his eyes.  Snape hadn't called him by his last name with that level of pure agitation since before the summer.  Had he crossed the line?  Snape had said before that the adoption was permanent, but Snape was human and Harry knew that everyone had their limits.  The bed dipped as Snape sat down beside Harry, cradling his head in his hands and snagging his fingers in his hair.  The hair cascaded over Snape's face, and Harry couldn't tell what Snape was thinking.

The small curly bit at the end of Snape's hair moved with his exhalation of breath, and Harry watched him carefully. He ignored the persistent prickly feeling in his hand and drew his knees tighter to himself.

"Are you, are you giving me back?" Harry whispered, knowing he probably sounded ridiculous.  Snape had never said he would, but Harry figured he was well within his rights to. He just couldn't seem to avoid getting into trouble, and the dream had left him feeling rather exposed, similar to how he felt as a six year old.

"No."  Snape replied, raising his head but leaving his hair to obscure part of his face.  "I will not give you back, Elliot."  Snape left unsaid what they both knew, that there wasn't really anyone to give Harry back to.

Harry let out the breath sitting on his chest and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Don't."  Snape stopped him, holding up his hand. "I am very angry with you right now and I don't want to hear any of your excuses."

Snape glared at Harry, but Harry could see the concern etched in his eyes around the anger.  Disappointment was there too, and Harry felt like a failure.

"Yes, sir."  Harry replied, not blinking away the sharp twinge in his eyes.  The hand was suddenly returned to his back, and the small rubbing circles between his shoulders started again.  He felt like a ridiculous child, but Snape had never begrudged him for seeking comfort before, and Harry realized that Snape perhaps didn't mind giving it.  At east, not to Harry when he most needed a solid presence.

"What was the nightmare about?"

"What?"  Harry asked dumbly, distracted and embarrassed by how comforting Snape's hand on his shoulders felt.

"You awoke in a cold sweat after being in shock.  All other vital signs have been normal for the past few hours.  You...called for your father. I assume you had a nightmare."

Harry looked down towards his knees and closed his eyes.

"I called for you." He said, picking absentmindedly at the blanket.  "Can't you give me that cream again, the one that makes my nightmares go away?"

"No. It leaves you vulnerable and you've had enough of the Dark Lord's influence tonight. That, and it has similar properties to a babbling beverage, and I have no desire to hear your stupid reasoning for attempting to destroy the horcrux unaided."

Harry suddenly felt even guiltier. A few tears leaked out from his eyes, and Harry thought it was ironic that he finally had a dad who would comfort him after a nightmare, but he'd gone and done something stupid and blown his chance. He wiped his face against the pillow, leaving it there so he wouldn't have to face Snape anymore.

Strong and calloused fingers suddenly carded through the hair on the back of his neck, gently guiding his head to turn a little so he could get fresh air.

"Tell me about the nightmare, Elliot."

Harry allowed himself to sink further into the pillow, and the tenseness to seep out of his shoulders as he took a deep breath and started to describe the cemetery he thought he'd been in.

......

Harry woke up alone in the small guest room, still buried under the covers but with a cold foot, as one seemed to have snaked its way out from under the blankets sometime in the early hours.  He dragged himself out of bed, checking the bandage on his hand.  It was small and neatly wrapped, despite the tossing and turning he'd done in his sleep, and Harry knew that Snape had been the one to apply it, not Madame Pomfrey.   Harry eyed the uniform folded neatly on the chair of his desk and looked down at his outfit.  He'd been changed into the grey striped pajama pants he kept there, and was wearing Snape's Aberdeen potioneers shirt.   Harry stood and looked in the mirror, noting the darkening around his eyes and the paleness of his skin.  He knew he should probably change into his uniform, but Snape had never demanded he come to breakfast in day clothes before. Indeed, on weekends during the summer Snape had sometimes arrived in his dressing robe and slippers.

Making up his mind, Harry grabbed two thick and random socks from the dresser drawer, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall towards the kitchenette.

Harry sat very quietly at the breakfast table, eating his toast with pumpkin butter and for once not tasting it. The coffee seemed darker and more forbidding, and the rustle of newspaper was very loud as Snape sat stiffly in his chair and read the Daily Prophet. Harry pushed his plate of toast away and stared at the picture of a happy wizarding family waving at him. It was an advertisement for Terror Tours of Diagon Alley, who were apparently having a sale on trips to the Bermuda Triangle.  Good for them, Harry thought sullenly. 

Just when he'd thought that he couldn't feel worse by having to listen to Snape tell him what he'd done wrong to disappoint the man, Snape found another way to torture him.  Currently, that entailed sitting calmly at the breakfast table and letting the discussion hang over their heads, nagging at Harry's conscience.  He wasn't accustomed to this. At the Dursleys it had been easy to know what was coming, to expect the sudden outburst of immediate anger.  But Snape was a different man entirely.  When irate, he exploded and made unreasonable demands about things, like getting Harry expelled. When he'd had time to reflect, however, Snape was calm and calculating.  And even though he'd been that mad the night before, here he was sitting with Harry at the breakfast table, ensuring Harry had enough food to eat.   Harry wondered if stuff like this was easier for Ron to face, having grown up with parents who knew how to lay on the guilt. Maybe Ron was better at ignoring the horrible feeling in his gut.

When the clicking of the clock on the fireplace mantel unnerved him just enough that Harry was about to demand Snape yell at him for his stupidity, Snape neatly folded the paper and stared right through Harry.

"I expect you to be fully dressed in your proper uniform and back at the table in twenty minutes. We will be having a discussion about your behaviour."

Harry saw that while Snape looked to be going about his morning routine as normal, his words were clipped and his mind seemed to be very preoccupied. Harry slipped from the table with a yes sir.

...

Harry stumbled back into the living room with three minutes to spare, tightening his tie as he landed at the table.  His school robe wasn't with his pile of folded clothes, but Harry saw it through the crack of the hallway door, hanging up next to Snape's teaching robes. He was dismayed to see that Dumbledore had arrived, but from the look on Snape's face it appeared that Snape hadn't expected the headmaster either.

"I believe he has come to ensure your wellbeing."  Snape commented, catching Harry's look.  Dumbledore ignored the comment completely.

"Good morning, Harry. I trust you slept well?"  Dumbledore smiled, peering over his glasses at Harry.

"Er, not really sir. I had nightmares and I've a sore arm."  Harry mumbled, not sure if he should complain or if it was best to keep his mouth shut.

"Ah, likely from the tetanus vaccination. Not a spell for that, I'm afraid."  Dumbledore answered.

"Tetanus?" Harry repeated, his face blank.

"It's not every day someone is bitten by a fifty year old metal snake." Snape responded across the table, his sarcasm a welcome comfort from the anger.

"You did give us a bit of a fright, my boy."  Dumbledore winked, sounding rather unconcerned about the whole thing.

"I didn't know it would do that." Harry mumbled, playing with his tie.

"Of course you didn't. No one knew it would do that, which is why I told you not to bother with the horcrux yet."  Snape snapped, causing Harry to shrink a little in his chair. Snape had told Harry not to worry about it, in the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry had grown frustrated about leaving the horcrux just sitting there.

 "But, what if someone got detention with Filch to polish the awards? Anyone could touch it or take it."  Harry asked, staring straight at Snape.  Dumbledore might be the headmaster, but Harry was most concerned about gaining Snape's respect back.

"Come here."  Snape commanded, pushing his own chair back but remaining seated.  Dumbledore was waiting politely by the bookcase, listening but not commenting.  The mood in the room was rather awkward; as much as Harry didn't want to be admonished in front of Dumbledore, it seemed Snape was hesitant about going into full parent mode with his employer present as well.

"What did I tell you when I almost dropped you down the stairs last week?" Snape demanded, grabbing Harry's arm and maneuvering him to stand very close to Snape.  Harry caught Dumbledore's curious expression before he was standing trapped, locked between Snape's knees and needing to look down at Snape to meet the man's eyes.  Harry winced, remembering standing in this same position in Amsterdam and hating how uncomfortable it made him feel.

"To listen to you. Even if I don't understand why."

"No."  Snape tapped his fingers irritably on Harry's arms, ignoring Dumbledore's small cough.  "I told you that I might order you to do something seemingly dangerous or useless, but that you would have to trust me.  Trust me to amend that appalling sense of self preservation you have."

Harry's cheeks burned and he stared at Snape's shoulders.  Snape had said that last bit over the summer to him as well, had made it as a promise.

"We just thought it should be destroyed before anyone could find it." Harry mumbled.  "And before it realized what we were going to do."

"The first horcrux you faced possessed your friend and petrified people with a snake, and the second one you knew about fatally cursed the headmaster's hand." Snape growled, his dark eyes capturing Harry's gaze.  Harry thought it was a very odd time for him to notice that Snape's eyes were not pure black like everyone thought - they had tiny flecks of brown in them.  "And yet you didn't think this one would do you any harm? Because you're Harry Potter and you've enough dumb luck to survive what it could do?"

"Severus, I believe Harry was merely trying to do the right thing."

Snape turned around to glare at the headmaster.  "I will not have you encouraging your idiotic Gryffindor impulsiveness for rash heroism."

"As you wish, Severus, but he did manage to destroy the fourth horcrux."  Dumbledore smiled lightly with a wave of his hand, almost knocking over a tiny cauldron on the bookcase.

Harry noted with interest that the involuntary tick under Snape's right eye seemed to be something that not only he could cause.

"Do not even think of awarding house points."  Snape gritted, keeping his focus on Harry.  "There is a restriction based on this flat preventing the giving or taking of them."

Dumbledore looked surprised at this, and Harry smiled very discreetly to himself.  He suspected Snape quite enjoyed catching the headmaster off guard.

"Is there? I must say I am surprised, Severus, given your consistent use of the house point system."

"This is a home, Headmaster. School punishments are separate, and remain outside of these walls, at school." Snape responded irritably.

Dumbledore beamed, and Harry shifted uncomfortably.  He wondered what Snape would do for punishment this time.  Over the summer he'd gotten a rather long bout of grounding, but Hogwarts required more discretion, as it wasn't known outside of Ron and Hermione that Harry visited the dungeons every week.  He hadn't lied, so thankfully there wouldn't be any mustard on his tongue. He had, on the other hand, endangered his life and gone against what Snape had told him to do, and Harry was quite certain that put him at the top of Snape's shit list for a while.

"Elliot."  Snape said, drawing Harry's attention back to the conversation.

"Your eyes have brown in them." Harry blurted stupidly, blinking. He barely missed Snape's eyebrows narrowing in confusion, before Snape spoke.

"I...am aware of that.  Do you understand what you did wrong?"

Harry's shoulders fell slightly as he took in the question.  That was new.  Uncle Vernon usually just told him exactly what he'd done wrong, whether it was Harry's fault or not. Harry stared down at the watch on his wrist, at the small patch of stubble under the left side of Snape's chin that the man had missed shaving, and the lack of sleep that appeared in his dad's eyes.  He thought about own night, of how Snape seemed to have already been in the room when Harry woke.  He must have been there most of the night, to make sure Harry was okay.

"I put myself in danger.  I didn't trust you, and I went after something by myself that could have seriously hurt me."   The words flowed out, and Harry found them strangely cathartic.  They came out fast, like the automated response that he normally gave his uncle, but they gave him a sense of redemption he'd not felt before.  He felt like a damn child again, and while it was annoying, it was refreshing to not feel angry for being punished.  Snape nodded and seemed to wait for Harry to come to the conclusion on his own.

"I forgot that I don't always have to be the hero."  Harry mumbled, trying to ignore Dumbledore standing off to the side. Dumbledore, who'd always given him the extra push to defeat whatever came at him.

"You will learn."  Snape said, and he released Harry.  Harry stepped back and leaned against the table, feeling lighter than he had been when he woke up in the morning.  Snape stood and moved towards the kitchen, putting the breakfast dishes in the sink for the house elves.

"And you will write me a two foot essay on what it means to depend on others."  Snape held up his hand to prevent Harry from saying anything. "You are also grounded for the next two weeks, and that means spending your weekends here. I am certain that an excuse can be made."

Snape glanced at Dumbledore, conveying an annoyed look and a request all in one.

"I'm sure something can be arranged."  The headmaster smiled.

"Lastly, you will not be going to Hogsmeade for the last weekend before the holidays. I do hope you have all your shopping done."  Snape's tone was sarcastic, but it went over Harry's head as Harry snapped to attention.

"You're not cancelling Christmas?" Harry clapped his hand over his mouth and tried to school his expression into an uninterested one.  He was embarrassed to give away that this Christmas, his first real one with a family, was something he was really looking forward to.

Snape saw the look and decided to play it down while they had company.

"Not even I am a powerful enough wizard to cancel that bothersome holiday." Snape replied calling for a house elf.  Harry watched in amusement as Dumbledore switched three books on the bookcase around, disturbing the order Snape had them in.

"I shall be taking my leave, Severus, Harry.  It seems I have forgotten which book I came to see you about."  Snape's glare could have bored holes into the back of Dumbledore's robes, but Dumbledore paid no notice as he walked by Harry and gave Harry a quick pat on his shoulder.

"The punishment will go by fast enough Harry, don't worry. You did an excellent job finding the horcrux; what's done is done."  Dumbledore commented, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Except when you've got a time turner, right?"  Harry grinned, suddenly feeling cheeky again.

"Excuse me?"  Snape said, coldly from the kitchen.  Harry's eyes widened as he remembered just how belligerent Snape had been when Sirius had escaped that night in his third year.

"Potter with a time turner, my my, what could he possibly get up to with one of those."  Snape continued, his voice turning silky and making the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand.  Snape stared right at the headmaster, and scowled when Dumbledore waved good day and made for the door.

Harry had never seen Dumbledore looking so mischievously guilty before.

Dumbledore slipped out the door and Harry wondered if he had a chance to grab another slice of toast from the kitchenette before heading to class. Now that the talk was over, Harry suddenly felt back to normal.

"I can just imagine what Professor Dumbledore would get up to."  Harry commented with cheerful and feigned innocence.

"Doubtlessly."  Snape halted him on his way, snagging Harry's jumper and spinning him into an awkward hug. Harry was tense for a few seconds before he let himself sag against Snape.  Harry never would have thought to ask for a hug, but it did feel nice after the discussion. It felt like forgiveness.

"I'll try to not be self sacrificing in the future."  Harry promised into the thick black wool that his cheek was pressed against.  Snape smelt like old spice deodorant and faintly of carbolic soap.

"Good boy."  Snape murmured, and Harry wasn't insulted by the boy term. He went to step back but suddenly found Snape's arm tighten around him, and the voice grow deeper.

"Famous Harry Potter, learning to share the heroism.  Time turner extraordinaire."  Snape continued, and Harry tensed.  Uh oh.

"Technically it was Hermione who..." the fingers tightened around his ribs and Harry let out a giggle. He'd not known as a child that he was ticklish, and he cursed it now.

"You will soon find that there are a few things both you and I would very much prefer I never know about. That, or my suspicions regarding the incidents are never justified. Confirming my very strong belief that you had something to do with freeing that wretched mongrel on the night I was stunned by three students is one of those things."

Snape's grip was tight enough to almost be painful, and he was talking above Harry's hair, not looking down at him.

"Good idea, Dad."  Harry agreed, giving a quick hug back before squirming away to get to class before he could get into any further trouble.

......

Herbology class that day let out early due to a rather enthusiastic batch of Maythistle Maple trees that the first years had been growing for the sap.  The right combination of fertilizer and care had indeed lead to healthy and robust plants; which were now attempting to germinate thousands of helicopter shaped seeds all over green house four, rendering it rather useless for class.  Grumbling about not wanting to be stuck in a room with tree sperm scattered everywhere, Ron quickly suggested a visit to Hagrid with their free time and the three set out immediately.

"Snape's not going to suddenly pop up around the corner if you go outside, will he?" Ron asked, pulling on his bright orange Cannons hat and mitts.

"No. I'm grounded on the weekends, but he's letting me be during the week." Harry shrugged, putting his coat on.

"That's remarkably fair, Harry, considering how worried he was about you."  Hermione answered, pulling her scarf tightly around her as they walked out the front door.

"I ... he gets like that. I don't really remember what happened after the snake bit me last night anyway." Harry admitted, his cheeks flushing red.  From the cold outside, Harry told himself, not in embarrassment.

"You swore pretty loudly."  Ron answered, grinning at Harry.

"You would have too."  Harry smarted back, holding up his still bandaged hand.

"Yes well, all joking aside Harry and Ronald, it was a scary sight.  That thing had a mind of it's own and there was that horrible moan it made when it bit you."  Hermione shuddered, hooking her arm through Ron's.

"Wait a moment. Why do you always Ronald me, and never Harold him?"  Ron asked, kicking a clump of snow ahead accidentally and hitting the back of Harry's trousers with it.

"Because I think I'm just Harry."  Harry answered, shrugging the snow off his leg and throwing Ron a mock dirty look.  Hermione nodded and kept walking.

"What does Snape call you when you're in trouble?"  Ron asked, his smirk rather evident.

"Elliot. But he has this way of talking, making it sound like he's more disappointed with me than mad. I don't know how he does it, but it's really gets to me." Harry replied, pulling his coat collar up more to cover the top of his shoulders.

"He's guilt tripping you, Harry, to put it bluntly.  It's a form of getting the point across that keeps your attention and targets your basic instinct to make him proud of you.  The disappointment hits where it hurts most."

"Thank you, Dr. Granger."  Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

"She's right, mate.  Mum can lay it on thick like the world is ending if she wants to."

"That I'm familiar with, Ron."  Harry laughed as they slipped a little down the path to Hagrid's. There was a glowing orange light in the window, and smoke coming from the chimney, making the house look cozy and warm against the storm.

"He was the one who was running down the hall, wasn't he? The boots on the floor?"  Harry asked, remembering bits of the noise that had exploded in the trophy room.

"Yeah.  He didn't even yell at us for being there, just pushed us aside and went straight to you, checking to see if you were possessed or something."  Ron answered.

"He ran about ten body scans on you before he let Professor Dumbledore near you, and cleaned the snake bite himself.  He took you down to the dungeons, instead of the infirmary, and made us tell him three times what had happened."  Hermione added, a slight smile on her face.  

Harry had a stupid smile on his face as well, but he kept his gaze forward on Hagrid's door and was proud of himself for remembering to ask Hagrid for more chunks of metal before they went back to the castle for dinner.

.........

Detention started bright and early on Saturday morning, and much to Harry's surprise, he did not have to clean Snape's flat for it.  He figured that the house elves were in charge of cleaning all the staff's quarters, which was quite fine by Harry.  Snape sat at his desk, dressed down in a collared black shirt with grey trousers, his hair hooked back behind his ears as he marked essays, one or two stray strands dipping down towards the scroll he was perusing.

"Drop your bag by the door and pick up the knife on the kitchen table, I want those ingredients finely chopped and in three separate bowls."  Snape commanded, not looking up from his work.

Harry did as told and walked over to the kitchen, his nose twitching unpleasantly at the smell. It was rather familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. His stomach grumbled unhappily, as he'd rushed to get breakfast down and get the metal bits from Hagrid before going to Snape's.

Coming upon the bowl, Harry discovered just how sick Snape's sense of humour was.  There were three different bowls and a large chef's knife on the table, along with two Spanish onions, a bunch of chives, and two bundles of green onion.  He remembered that awful night in Stockport, throwing up his dinner and the beer, and the smell, oh how the smell of fried onion had invaded the bathroom they'd been standing in and seemingly seeped under his skin.

Harry made it through one bundle of green onion by forcing himself to think of ice cream, chocolate frogs, and butterbeer that he hoped Ron and Hermione would be bringing him back from Hogsmeade when they next went. Harry took off Snape's old blue sweater that he'd been wearing and took a deep breath by the couch, before returning to the table and starting on the Spanish onions.  Those, he discovered, fought dirty. Not only was the smell stronger, but Harry felt his eyes prickle with each slice and the tears start to fall spontaneously.  Had he not been afraid of unsettling his stomach further, Harry would have laughed at the ridiculousness of his reaction.

"I thought you weren't going to use school punishments for stuff at home."  Harry said, plucking at his t-shirt collar and hooking it over his nose.  He didn't care how bizarre he looked; the smell was now making him seriously consider revisiting breakfast.

"I am not."  Snape answered, not looking up from the desk.

"What? You're not making me chop this up for some potion or whatever?"  Harry asked, poking the onion with his knife for emphasis.

"Stir fry."  Snape deadpanned, snatching another scroll and unfurling it to read. "I freeze what I don't use."

Harry blinked, unsure of what to say to that.

Twenty minutes later, Harry used the reprieve he'd been granted to scrub his hands and face in the washroom, working to get the smell of onions off his skin.   He walked back out to the living room, shifting off balance when he noticed Snape staring at him. It wasn't a ‘you're in trouble' stare; it was more the look Snape normally gave a potion in class that had gone spectacularly wrong.

There was hot chocolate sitting at the table though, next to a plate of shortbread cookies, and Harry focused on that instead.  There were quite a few books piled beside the plate, ledgers of house bills, insurance records, and tax receipts that Harry had seen Snape rifle through a few times.  He wondered if he'd be helping sort those out next when Snape interrupted his thoughts.

"Part of the reason I did not wish for you to destroy the horcrux is because I needed to study the effects it had on the object housing it."  Snape said, his tone rather serious.

"I realized that after."  Harry answered quietly, accidentally burning his tongue on the hot chocolate.

"Naturally. Hindsight is twenty twenty, after all.  Regardless, I have found a way that I do believe will destroy the horcrux in your scar, without causing you grievous personal injury, and we shall most likely try it in the new year."

"That's great."  Harry beamed, ignoring the part that meant he'd probably be also facing Voldemort in a final fight in the new year too.  Snape was still studying him with piercing eyes, and Harry found them slightly unsettling.

"Yes. Perhaps."  Snape summoned a piece of parchment that had a rather detailed sketch of a human brain on it, including the subsections of the different areas of the brain that controlled the body and its skills.

"Your scar contains a small portion of the Dark Lord's soul."  Harry nodded in agreement as Snape transfigured another parchment of paper into a clear film, like the overhead sheets muggle teachers had used in Harry's primary school.  There was a strange black blob on it, and Snape put it down on the brain.  "Now we know from the diary and from what I heard of the badge, that bit of soul is capable of independent thought of varying degrees.  The question is, by removing the horcrux, how much of the Harry Potter you are today will disappear as well."

Snape slid the film over the brain, the dark spot overlapping bits of the brain involved in speech, fine motor skills, memory, taste, and logic.  Harry looked at horror at the amount of brain covered.

"But, isn't that bit of him just considered extra? Not a replacement for my brain?" Harry stammered, eyes not leaving the sheet.

"I have no idea. This is why I wanted to study the horcrux, but unfortunately, you are now the last one left."

Harry took another gulp of hot chocolate, not even wincing as it hit his tongue.  He felt rather chilled, and was willing to bet that his complexion had gone ghostly white.

"I am refining my solution, to preserve as much of you as I can, should it come to that."  Snape said softly, conveying to Harry with his eyes instead of words that whatever was lost; Snape would help teach him again. If possible.  After a minute of silence, Snape pushed a roll of parchment towards Harry and handed him an inkpot with a quill.

"Get started on your dependency essay, I want it to be done by lunch time. After lunch we will go over the household budget plan you have started for your fictional flat."

Snape stood and stretched, levitating his own marking back to the satchel sitting by his desk. As he passed Harry he stopped and laid his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Now is the time when you need to fully trust me."  The hand squeezed once, and Harry nodded.  There was something to be said about having a strong, strict, tough as nails potions master supporting him.

As Snape headed towards the hall where his bedroom was, Harry suddenly remembered what he was going to ask.

"Are we still going to Holland for Christmas?"  There was an edge of hope to his voice that Harry kicked himself for.  At the Dursleys, if he'd seemed even remotely excited about anything they'd been determined to ruin it for him.

"Do you think you deserve to go back to Amsterdam?" Snape countered casually, leaving Harry to think.

There were three weeks left until Christmas and he was determined to earn his trip back.