March 28-29

Friday-Saturday

-Harry & Severus-

"You sure you don't want to come to the Burrow, Harry?" Ron lobbed a dirty pair of socks toward his trunk from across the room while Harry relaxed on his bed, tossing a clean pair of mismatched socks high in the air and catching it as it fell. Ron, along with most of the students in the castle, was leaving tomorrow morning on the Hogwarts Express for the Easter holiday and he'd put off packing until the last minute. Neville was lying on his bed reading, occasionally throwing back clothes when Ron overshot his trunk and they landed on Neville's bed, or on Neville himself. He been a very good sport about it, but didn't look half as amused as Harry and Ron had when a pair of Ron's orange Chudley Cannons boxers had landed on his head.

"Not this time," answered Harry. "Hagrid's going to teach me all about owlets over break—I'm pretty sure Hedwig is going to be nesting soon." The half-truth slipped out with little effort.

"Really? That's great, Harry," said Neville. He turned a page in his book and sighed. "Gran's taking me with her to visit her sister up in Aberdeen. Great Aunt Alvina keeps Yorkies. About 20 of the little ankle biters."

"Mum's got plans for me too," said Ron. "She's getting the house ready for Bill and Fleur's wedding this summer. Fred and George say she's already impossible and the wedding isn't for four more months. She's complaining to Dad that the house is off-kilter." He grinned. "When hasn't it listed? I mean, the whole thing is held together by a wish and a prayer—that's what Mum says, anyway."

"I love your house," said Harry wistfully.

"Well, she wants me to paint my room! She says that orange is 'distasteful'!"

"Do wizards actually paint walls?" asked Harry, looking over at Ron.

"Yeah, sometimes. You can change the color with a spell, of course, but you have to put on a new coat if it starts peeling off."

Seamus and Dean burst through the door at that moment, giggling like mad men, Dean obviously hiding something under his robes. He closed the door behind him then pulled out a dirty-looking bottle and held it up triumphantly.

"Old Ogden's!" he exclaimed. "We bought it off of a seventh-year Ravenclaw—that prefect with the braids."

"Hattie McDormand?" asked Neville. He closed his book, looking more interested.

"Yeah, that's her. She's cool. We figured what with the break and all, we could have a little fun before we leave."

Harry had been antsy all day, anticipating the break and finally getting to spend some time alone with Severus. He looked at the bottle in Dean's hand with interest.

"Are you sure it's safe? Why would Hattie want to sell it, anyway?" he asked.

"It's safe. I made her drink some first." He grinned. "She's dating Seamus' cousin. He's the one that talked her into giving it up for us. Well, nothing for it. Bottoms up!" He tipped the bottle into his mouth, took a long swig then sputtered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Harry thought his eyes were watering, but Dean recovered quickly.

"Harry?" He held out the firewhiskey and Harry leaned over to take it from him. As his hand closed around the neck of the bottle, he remembered Severus' recent letter and his story about Crabbengoyle's adventures with alcohol that landed them in front of Minerva's office-naked. But Dean looked at him encouragingly, and even the normally tentative Neville seemed intrigued. He took a small, experimental swallow. The taste was not unpleasant. It was stronger than butterbeer—about 1000 times stronger, in fact—and burned going down, but warmed him pleasantly when it settled in his stomach. More confident this time, he took another swallow, pleased that he didn't choke or gag, and passed the bottle to Ron.

Ron, being fortunate enough to be the younger brother of Fred and George Weasley, had sampled purloined firewhiskey before. He sniffed the fumes escaping the bottle then sighed with over-exaggerated pleasure, took a long swallow then passed the bottle on to Neville.

"Bottoms up," quipped Neville, as he grinned and took a drink.

They managed to finish the bottle in forty minutes and before anyone could bemoan the loss of good liquor, Seamus produced another.

When Minerva broke up the party just before they had finished the second bottle, Ron was lying on the floor, drool snaking down his chin. He was staring at the ceiling in near panic, convinced that a particularly menacing looking shadow was a young Acromantula. Neville was in his bed, giggling and hiccupping and mumbling something that sounded like "yip yipping Yorkies." Seamus and Dean had pulled out a chess set and were playing a most unorthodox game that involved actually using your captured opponent's pieces on the board to strengthen your own side and Harry was lying face-up on his bed clutching the bed clothes to try to stop the spinning.

"This is precisely the type of trouble I hoped not to find," said their Head of House, her hands on her hip and her brogue making her voice almost impossible to understand. "Ten points from each of you," she said, adding, beneath her breath, "and letters from me to your parents." She grabbed the bottle from where Dean had wedged it in the crook of Ron's arm and sniffed at it.

"Far too expensive to waste on your young palates," she sighed. She nudged Ron with her foot. "Get up, Weasley." Ron moaned and mumbled "Go 'way, Mum."

Dean, who seemed to have handled the alcohol better than the rest, looked from Minerva to Ron, horrified.

"Ron!" he hissed. "'ts not your mum! It's McGonagall!"

"Pofessor M'Gongul," slurred Seamus. He followed the statement with a very undignified burp.

"You are all to report to the infirmary immediately for a sobering potion. You will stay there for the night so Madam Pomfrey can observe you. Take pajamas with you." She then turned to Harry.

"Can't go 'til the room stops," he said with a moan. "Dizzy…"

"Excellent. Because you are wanted in the Headmaster's office." She folded her arms in front of her sternly and glared at the other boys as they fumbled about in their drawers for pajamas. Dean was tearing through his drawer so feverishly that a pair of white y-fronts sailed across the room and landed at McGonagall's feet. She stared at them a long moment then looked up. "Go! And no detours along the way!" As they began to edge out of the room, she pulled out her wand and produced three cat patronuses which disappeared through the walls with her whispered message. Harry closed his eyes, apparently forgetting that he, too, was expected to leave the room.

"What has gotten into you, Harry?" mused Minerva. "Finally acting your age and not a minute older, eh?" Harry thought vaguely that her voice sounded warm and distant. He experimentally loosened his grip on the bedclothes. Good. The room was behaving itself—somewhat—and was no longer spinning or lilting at an unnatural angle.

"Never been drunk 'fore," he said helpfully. "Not really, anyway. Only when Sev'rus was…" He was struggling to sit up but the water-filled mattress made it difficult in his current state and he fell backward again. He let out a very unmanly giggle.

"I have asked Severus to come here instead of meeting you in the Headmaster's office as he had planned," said Minerva as she extended her hand to Harry and helped him into a seated position again. "It is only fair that he deal with this in his way since he's to have you all week."

"We're goin' t' make potions," said Harry, smiling broadly at his guardian, obviously too far gone to be concerned about Severus 'dealing with' him. "An' practice d'fense spells. An' learn t' drive." He paused, then added helpfully. "A car. A reg'lar Muggle car. Not one that flies. Maybe a fast one."

"I see," said Minerva, although she didn't really see. Where did Severus think he was going to get a car? Did he even know how to drive himself? Perhaps she should intervene or at least accompany them… She glanced at the door. When she'd arrived at Gryffindor Tower a few minutes ago after Severus has asked her to check on Harry, she had sent all the Gryffindors who were in the common room up to their dorm rooms. With luck, Severus would have a clear path and wouldn't cause any of her younger Gryffindors to go into shock or wet their pants when he showed up in their sanctuary.

"And talk. Yeah, talk about why he's 'fraid," said Harry with not a small bit of conviction. He dropped his voice dramatically. "Sometimes…sometimes I think I'm 'fraid too…"

Minerva was inordinately glad that Harry was still in the "nothing is a secret" phase or inebriation and not yet in the "emotional outpouring and uncontrollable weeping" phase. She admittedly was rather glad that Severus would be around for part two. She conversed with Harry for another five minutes, learning that Draco Malfoy was up to something in the Room of Requirement and that Ginny Weasley had the softest hair and didn't she think her lips would be just as soft too?

"Sev'rus!" She had been standing in front of Harry, her back to the door, and hadn't seen, or heard, Severus' approach. She pivoted on her heel to find her colleague standing in the doorway staring at Harry and very obviously trying to suppress a smile beneath his stern countenance.

"He's all yours now, Severus," said Minerva. "Best get him sobered up before you teach him to drive a regular Muggle car—a fast one. I've already taken points and sent the others to Poppy for a sobering potion. She's going to keep them down there tonight."

"Who…?"

"All five of them," answered Minerva, shaking her head.

"Longbottom too?" Severus raised his eyebrows.

"Apparently."

"Who supplied the alcohol, Harry?" asked Severus, his voice sounding very soothing to Harry's confused brain. Harry brightened. He could answer that one.

"Seamus and Dean. They got it from that Rav'claw prefect 'Attie with the braids. She's dating Seamus' cousin and 'e talked her intoit." Severus and Minerva exchanged a look that Harry completely missed.

"I'm off to find Filius," said Minerva, shaking her head again. "Have a pleasant night, Severus. Oh—and a pleasant morning too." He heard her chuckling as she walked away.

Harry and Severus were left alone in the room. Harry was still sitting on the edge of the bed, a lopsided smile on his face. Severus still stood by the door, arms folded over his chest.

"Harry?"

Harry jerked his head up, lost his balance, and toppled backward on the bed. He lay there, prone, for a long moment, then giggled.

"You are pathetic," said Severus, too amused to be as annoyed as he should be. He walked over to give Harry a hand. "Come, we are going to my quarters." He righted Harry then took out his wand. "Accio Harry's pajamas." A pair of green pajama pants and a grimy grey t-shirt shot out from under the bed. He shook his head then grabbed Harry's arm as the boy started to stumble forward across the room.

"Where'd everyone go?" asked Harry suddenly, as if only just then realizing that his friends were gone.

"To sober up the easy way," muttered Severus as he led his charge from the room. "You, however, will not be so lucky…"

/

Severus hadn't been kidding. While Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville slept in the infirmary, all traces of alcohol removed from their systems by the Sober-up potions Madam Pomfrey administered to them, Harry spent some quality time in the bathroom losing the firewhiskey, his dinner and what must have been his lunch too. When Ron and Neville, a bit queasy but generally chipper and ready to begin their vacations, joined Hermione and Ginny in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Harry sat sipping tea at the small table in Severus' quarters, trying desperately not to gag on the smell of the sausages and eggs on Severus' plate. When Ron and Neville munched on cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs from the lunch cart, Harry nibbled on a plain saltine and sipped at another glass of water—how many had Severus made him drink today, anyway? And while Ron's mother and Neville's grandmother stood on Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station, each clutching a letter in Minerva McGonagall's spidery handwriting, Harry sat on the sofa, the fire in the hearth bright and the air toasty and warm, playing a quiet game of chess with Severus.

"More water, Harry," said Severus softly as he scooted a pawn forward.

Harry obediently picked up the glass and took another sip. He felt like he was going to float away but the headache had finally faded and he almost, almost, felt hungry again.

And late in the evening, when Ron sank onto his bed and regarded his plain white walls and held his grumbling stomach—how could she send a 17-year-old boy to bed without dinner?—Harry finished his bowl of soup and looked up as Severus placed the tea service on the table and removed the napkin covering a plate of warm ginger snaps.

"I'm sorry…about today," said Harry. "I was really looking forward to spending it with you."

Severus arranged two saucers on the table, poured tea into two cups, and placed the cups on the saucers. He slid one over toward Harry. "We did spend the day together, Harry."

"You know what I mean," said Harry with a sigh. "Really, I'm sorry I messed up. It was stupid to drink that much, especially when I'd never had any before."

"Yes, it was stupid to drink that much," agreed Severus. "But you're a 16-year-old boy. You're supposed to do stupid things. You make mistakes; you learn from them."

Harry reached for a ginger snap and regarded it before taking a small bite. "A whole Saturday wasted."

Severus snorted.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, then suddenly grinned. "That's not what I meant. Not that kind of wasted."

"I disagree with you. It wasn't wasted at all. I think you learned quite a bit and I actually enjoyed the quiet—well, except for those two hours with all the retching. I had to put a silencing spell on the bathroom door so I could finish my marking." He raised one eyebrow then picked up his tea, holding the cup with both hands as he took a long draw from it.

"I did learn something, you know," said Harry. "Firewhiskey is evil."

"I would modify that to say 'Firewhiskey taken in excess is evil,'" suggested Severus. "No, I'm speaking of the other lesson, the one we discussed earlier."

"Oh. Actions have consequences," supplied Harry, frowning.

"And?" Severus looked at Harry over the top of his teacup. Harry was still a little pale, but more than anything he looked introspective.

"And…our choices define us," finished Harry, sighing and dipping his finger into his tea to test its temperature. Severus frowned and shook his head.

"Uncouth."

Harry shrugged. "I made a bad choice. I won't do it again."

"Yes you will," countered Severus. "But not for a while. And when you do, I hope it will again be with friends, in a controlled setting, and that it won't make you miss work or fail a test."

"It doesn't seem fair that Ron and the rest of them got Sober-up potions while I had to…"

"They also had letters sent to their parents. Letters that arrived while they were still on the train." Severus raised an eyebrow and clicked his cup lightly with Harry's as if toasting.

"No!" The corner of Harry's mouth twitched. He wanted to be horrified for them but couldn't help being amused. The thought of Mrs. Weasley pulling Ron by his ear across Platform 9 ¾ almost made his day.

"Yes."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes. Harry ate another ginger snap, dunking it in his re-warmed tea. At last he brushed crumbs off his hands and lap and stood.

"Do you mind if I go to bed? I'm really knackered for some reason. Seems odd—I didn't do anything all day."

"Fighting a hangover is hard work, Harry," said Severus and Harry knew he spoke from experience. "Go on, go to bed. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"A big day? What are we doing? Are you going to teach me to drive?"

Severus smiled. "Yes, but not tomorrow. Tomorrow, the Headmaster has requested a favor of you and I thought I'd go along to keep an eye on things."

"Go along where?" Harry was eying Severus steadily. Severus seemed almost…excited. What was going on?

"Albus wants to make sure that Hogwarts—the castle—has no vulnerabilities that he isn't aware of. Entrances or exits that are not protected, for example. To that end, he would like to check out the Chamber of Secrets, and needs you to open the portal."

Harry's mouth had dropped open.

"That's about the last thing I ever expected to come out of your mouth," he said, taking a deep breath and sitting back down on the sofa. "Well, maybe that or '100 points from Slytherin for cheating in Quidditch."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Are you amenable?"

"Amenable? You've got to be kidding. Of course I'm amenable!" He didn't add that having Severus and the Headmaster with him made all the difference.

"Good. Then get on to bed. We'll want to get an early start in the morning."

Harry stood again and headed to Severus' room where he'd be sleeping tonight. Severus insisted the couch was perfectly fine. He'd taken the couch last night too.

"Wear old clothes," he called back to Severus. "And sturdy boots…"

"Go to b…"

But Harry had poked his head out again.

"Have you had a tetanus shot lately?"

"Bed!"

Harry ducked into the bedroom, neatly avoiding the throw pillow Severus lobbed at him.

And Severus sat on the sofa for a long moment, staring at the clock on his desk. The hand pointed to "Somewhere Safe." It had rested there comfortably since Severus had brought Harry down to his quarters last night. He'd sat here earlier that night as well, marking NEWT Defense essays as he watched the hand move from "In Gryffindor Tower" to "In Trouble," shuddering and trembling as if not able to decide which one was more appropriate. He'd finally asked Minerva to check up on Harry.

He'd been immensely relieved to find out the boy had simply been drinking with his friends.

This marvelous clock needed an adjustment. As it was now, one hand could mean "getting drunk in the dorm room" or "lost in the Forbidden Forest."

Harry's childhood was ending. Soon, the clock would no longer point to "Great Hall," "At Hagrid's," "Class" or "In Gryffindor Tower." But Severus would leave them there, those useless designations, because a boy deserved a childhood, even if he had to close his eyes and pretend in order to give him one.