Not only did Monday come much too soon, but so did the weekend. The entire week passed by in a veritable whirlwind for Severus, and before he knew it, he was in Dumbledore's office with a slightly trembling Potter standing beside him.

The boy wouldn't look at him, and for some reason, it didn't anger him. Instead, it made him feel...awkward, and like maybe he should do something to ease the boy's anxiety, though he had no idea what that could be. Severus didn't do comfort.

‘Sev,' Lily said in a singsong voice. She slipped her arms around Severus' chest from behind, and rested her chin on his shoulder. "You're borrowing trouble where there isn't any."

She squeezed him, and he pulled her around himself so that he could see into her eyes. Her eyes, the color of emeralds, always served to ground him. They were genuine, and never told lies. He found comfort and strength in their depths.

"I..." Severus blew out a shaky breath and ran his hands through his untidy hair. He was so nervous that he could barely her Lily's voice over the pounding of his own heart.

"Shh," Lily whispered, placing her finger on his lips and smiling. "It'll be alright, you've got nothing to be nervous about."

Severus was jolted from the memory when he felt Potter's hand in his own. The boy's fingers were ice-cold, and they shook with nervous energy. Severus wanted to jerk free from the boy, but they were going to Floo to Prince Manor together, and he realized that the boy didn't want to be holding his hand any more than he wanted to be holding Potter's. Potter had only grabbed Severus' hand at the Headmaster's insistence.

Dumbledore was watching both of them with that ever pleasant twinkle in his eyes, and a thoughtful frown fixed firmly in place. It was unsettling, and Severus wondered what it was that the wizard was thinking.

"Stop fidgeting," Severus commanded, and he gripped the boy's hand tightly.

Potter flinched slightly and took a small step to the side. Though he didn't attempt to remove his hand from Severus', the Potions Master knew that it was taking a lot of strength, and willpower, for the boy not to pull away completely, and he admired that. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to think anything positive with regard to the boy, and it was mildly disconcerting.

Severus drew in a deep breath willing his own frayed nerves to settle. He didn't wish to frighten the boy, but he didn't wish to prolong the handholding either. It felt unnatural, and he hated that he'd inadvertently scared the boy.

‘Severus,' his father snarled, ‘stand up straight, like a man, not like a weak-willed sissy.'

His father's hand was like a vise on his shoulder, and Severus winced as his father's fingers dug deeply into his flesh. He could feel the pressure on his bones, and knew that there would be bruises in the shape of his father's fingers left behind.

Severus straightened his back, though it was hard because his father was pressing down on his shoulder, and he had to push against the pressure. He bit into his tongue, and stuffed the heated words that wanted to slip from his mouth deep down in his mind where he could revisit them later, when his father was finished with him and left him alone.

Severus wondered if his bones would always hold the marks of his father's fingers, even when he grew up to be an old man. His father grabbed him there so often it was a wonder that there weren't permanent indentations left in Severus' shoulder that perfectly matched his father's slender, yet strong fingers.

His father's breath stank of whiskey and cheap tobacco, and it made Severus' stomach twist when his father leaned down, and sneered in his face. It took all of his strength to stand there and not back down from his father.

From a young age, Severus had learned that he needed to tamp down on the urge to lash out at the man he called father. His magic wanted to fight itself free to defend himself, but he kept it tightly under control, knowing that if he lost control of his magic - accidental or not - his father would lose control of his own very loose grip on his temper, and then there'd be more than just a few finger-shaped bruises on his shoulder.

"Harry, I know that you're nervous, and you have every right to be, but this is really for the best," Severus shook his head when the Headmaster's voice broke through his unpleasant reverie, and he swallowed.

The Headmaster had a hand on Potter's shoulder, and Severus frowned. He wondered how hard the Headmaster's grasp was, but suppressed the urge to tell the Headmaster to let go of Potter. He fought for control over the confusing tumult of emotions that were swirling around inside of him, and tucked them away into a far corner of his mind to examine later, when he was alone.

He loosened his grip on Potter's hand, and the boy relaxed fractionally. He hadn't realized that he'd been gripping the boy's hand so tightly. Severus' fingers felt cold and his palms were clammy, and he wanted this weekend to pass by as quickly as the week had, but he doubted that Fate, or Merlin, or whoever it was that was in control of his life, would see fit to make that happen.

"Sorry," Potter said quietly, and he ducked his head.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," Severus snapped, and he winced at the harsh tone of his voice. "It's only natural that you are nervous."

Potter flushed, and he visibly shook. His jaw tensed, and Severus awaited an explosion that never came. The windows in Dumbledore's office rattled, and Fawkes' perch knocked against the window frame, but then both stilled, and Severus marveled at the amount of control that Potter had over his accidental magic. It was probably something that, under the dubious care of the Dursleys, he'd had to learn to control at an early age, though, from what he'd heard from Dumbledore, Potter couldn't always rule his magic.

"It's time," Dumbledore said, and then he stepped away from the fireplace, and Severus and Potter stepped forward.

Severus tossed the Floo Powder into the flames, and stepped into the fireplace, drawing Potter along with him. He called out their destination in a loud, clear voice, and closed his eyes against the spinning. He hated traveling by Floo, and, judging by the way that Harry landed on his hands and knees, glasses askew, Severus doubted that the boy liked it any better than he did.

The butler, a Squib by the name of Gary, took their trunks and showed them to their rooms. Potter's was directly across from his, and Severus was grateful for the foresight that his grandfather had shown, even though the wizard had yet to greet them.

Potter looked a little lost, standing in the middle of his new room, and Severus watched from the hallway as the boy surveyed the room. His trunk had been laid at the foot of a four poster bed that could easily have fit ten Potters, and then some. Severus' bed was just as big, and, as he glanced down the hallway, he wondered how many of the rooms held equally large beds.

"Master Prince is awaiting you in the library," Gary said, and he ducked away with a quick bow.

Severus didn't even notice the Squib take his leave of them, because his eyes were fixed on Potter who seemed to be warring with powerful emotions. The foremost of which was disbelief, and though it was nearly imperceptible, there was fear present as well. Fear was something that Severus was intimately familiar with, and, though he didn't want to admit it, he could understand what Potter was thinking

"Potter, Master Prince is awaiting our arrival," Severus said in a quiet, unobtrusive voice.

Potter jumped, and spun around, his fingers trailing along the edge of an ornately carved desk. His eyes widened, and he quickly clasped his hands together in front of him as though afraid that Severus was going to smack them for touching the furniture.

"I..." Potter's voice stuck in his throat, and he clamped his mouth shut. "I didn't mean to..." he trailed off and his eyes veered toward the desk that he'd been admiring. "I know it's not really mine, Sir. I shouldn't have..."

"Potter, what part of this do you not understand?" Severus knew that his voice was sharp, and that he was scaring the boy who backed away from his approach until he could go no further when his hip slammed into the desk. Severus inwardly cursed, and he stopped in his tracks. He should have known better, but he was new to this, and, once more, he wished that there was someone else who could take over Potter's care.

"This room is yours," Severus said when Potter had regained control of his breathing. "You are free to touch every inch of it, and make it your own."

Potter considered his words and nodded once. His expression, for once, was unreadable, and Severus sighed. This was going to be much harder than he'd thought it would, and he had thought that it would be impossible for him to learn to set aside his hatred of James Potter, and for Potter to learn to trust him as his guardian.

"Come, we shouldn't leave our host waiting," Severus said, and he turned and walked out of the room, expecting Potter to follow.

"Sir?"

Severus counted to five before answering. "Potter?"

"Um, how should I address our host?" Potter sounded woefully nervous and timid, not at all like the defiant, insolent child that he was at school. It was clear to Severus that the boy felt very much out of his element, and he could understand that as he felt the same way.

"You can address me as Mr. Prince, or as grandfather," the man in question stepped out into the hallway, and startled the both of them.

Potter jumped about a foot, and glared at Severus, as though what had happened had been his fault. Severus glared back at the boy, and then turned to glare at his grandfather, who was regarding the both of them with a look that reminded Severus of Dumbledore when he knew the secret to a riddle that no one even knew existed. It was unnerving.

"That is, if you wouldn't mind giving an old man the honor," Prince said, and he held his hand out to Potter who eyed it warily before accepting the handshake.

Severus could tell that Prince wanted to make it into something more, and he wondered at the old wizard's eagerness to adopt Potter into his family. He shook off a momentary flare of jealousy, and followed Prince and Potter into the library where he'd signed his grandfather's will over a week ago.

"Forgive me, Severus, Harry," Prince said, once he'd settled himself behind his desk, "for not greeting you when you first arrived. I thought it best to let you get settled into your rooms first."

"That's quite alright," Severus answered for the both of them.

He kept a close eye on Potter, who wasn't looking at either of them, but at some spot on his school robes, which, now that Severus was truly looking at the boy, he discovered were worn and tattered around the edges.

Had the boy not worn his best robes as he'd been instructed? Or were these his best robes? Severus bit down on his anger, and fought to keep yet another memory of his childhood from surfacing.

‘Severus, don't worry so much,' Lily chastised, smoothing down the wrinkled material of Severus' robes as she spoke.

‘It's hard not to worry when my best robes are ragged and torn and...' Severus' rant was cut short by a firm, yet gentle tap from Lily on the back of his head. Severus scowled at her and rubbed the back of his head. ‘Ouch.'

He hated that he never had enough money to buy new robes or books. His father refused to give him any money, or finance his education in any way. Severus had to make do with castoffs that were donated by students when they outgrew their robes, or no longer needed their books. It was something that he knew other students, like Potter and Black, looked down on him for.

‘Stop being such a baby, and hold still.' Lily's lips were pursed, and she pointed her wand at Severus' robes, and started muttering an incantation that Severus couldn't quite make out. His robes began to knit themselves together before his eyes, and he blinked at the young witch who, even though she was Muggle-born, had taken to magic like a duck to water.

His lips twisted upward in a smile, but Lily shrugged off his thanks with a muttered, ‘It was nothing,' and a blush which made her eyes look like they were glowing beacons of kindness and light.

Severus swallowed hard, and blinked to free himself from the memory. He didn't understand why his childhood was resurfacing now, after all these years. He'd gone to great pains to keep those memories under lock and key, but it was like someone had breached his defenses, and was setting them free. Severus didn't like it one bit, and he wondered if Dumbledore was somehow behind it.

The obvious reason for the resurfacing memories, that it was because he'd learned of Potter's abuse at the hands of the Dursleys, was not something that Severus could buy into. He knew that Dumbledore was a manipulative wizard, and that he was constantly holding out hope that Severus would be able to let go of his hatred for James Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin, and that he'd see the younger Potter, and other Gryffindors, in a better light.

Years of abuse at the hands of his peers, however, were not easily dismissed. Adopting Potter was not going to suddenly make Severus forget what he'd suffered, or how James Potter, and his cronies had done their damnedest to make his years at Hogwarts a living hell. How they'd practically pushed them into the arms of the Dark Lord, much as his father had.

"I hope that you like your room," Prince was saying to Potter. "If you don't, you're welcome to any room in the manor, aside from my own." He looked almost as nervous as Potter did.

Potter's eyes shot up to meet Prince's, and he shook his head. "No, sir, the room, it's...it's great. I mean, I didn't really expect to have my own room or anything like that. At the Dursleys', I..."

Prince's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Tell me about these Dursleys. They're your family?"

Potter drew himself up in the plush chair until his back was rim rod straight, and he seemed to grow pale under his soon to be adopted great grandfather's curious gaze. He started fiddling with a loose thread on his robes, no doubt to mask the way that his hands had started to tremble.

"Uh, there's not much to tell," Potter said quietly, shrugging. "Sir," he tacked on, and glanced nervously in Severus' direction, no doubt expecting to be scolded for his impertinence.

"Prince, or grandfather will be just fine," Prince corrected, his smile taking away the bite of his words.

Potter returned Prince's smile and relaxed a fraction. "They, they..." Potter blinked and frowned and bit his bottom lip. "They fed and clothed me and put a roof over my head."

Severus resisted the urge to snort in derision. Potter could have been describing the duties of a family toward a dog, or some wayward waif, rather than a beloved relative.

Prince frowned and shot a look at Severus which Severus acknowledged with a slight incline of his head. The wizard's eyes were filled with smoldering fire, and Severus knew that they'd be talking about Potter before the night was over.

No doubt the elder wizard was planning some sort of comeuppance for the Dursleys. Not that Severus was opposed to such a thing himself. The Dursleys, as any family who abused someone in their care, deserved to face consequences for what they'd done. Abusing a child was not something that anyone should get away with, and he wondered what kind of consequences the wizarding world would be imposing upon the Dursleys for abusing the Boy Who Lived.

"I see," Prince said when Potter chose not to elaborate.

He cleared his throat and then clapped his hands. A short, well-dressed house elf popped into the room, and Prince whispered something into its ear. The house elf's eyes rounded comically, and she bobbed her head up and down and practically shivered with what Severus assumed was delight as there was a bright smile on her face. The house elf disappeared, and Prince returned his gaze to Potter.

"That was Misty," Prince explained. "You'll have to excuse her exuberance. She's excited that we've got guests in our home once again. I've just assigned her to your care, Harry. You don't mind if I call you Harry, do you? Or would you prefer Master Potter?"

Potter blushed. "Oh, no, Harry's just fine, sir, er, Mr. Prince." He ducked his head, and pulled at the thread in his robes.

Not really thinking, Severus placed a stilling hand on Potter's, and just as quickly removed it when the boy stiffened and jerked his hand away as though he'd been burned. He shot Severus a dread filled look, and Severus did his best to smooth things over by giving the boy what he hoped was an actual smile rather than his usual sneer.

Judging by the way that Prince's brow furrowed in concern and the wizard frowned between the both of them, Severus knew that Potter's unease with him had not gone unnoticed. The wizard kept his counsel to himself, but Severus knew that, once Potter was asleep, Prince would be questioning him about everything. He was not looking forward to it.

"Sir," Potter said, leaning forward in his chair, "you don't need to, that is, I don't really need a house elf."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Potter seemed even more tongue-tied than usual. He shook his head and sat back to see how his grandfather would handle this. He doubted that scolding Potter for being ungrateful would go over well for any of them.

"Harry, Misty has been looking forward to this weekend almost as much as I have," Prince said, and there was a twinkle in his eye as he leaned closer to Potter. "She'd be put out if she was unable to serve you. Now, if you wish for anything, and I do mean anything, just clap your hands twice, and Misty will come to you. She's keyed herself to your magical signature, and is more than happy to aid you in anything."

"But, I don't need a servant," Potter said, and his cheeks puffed in and out in anger. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

"Potter," Severus hissed, no longer caring if his grandfather thought him harsh or uncaring, or thought it odd that he referred to the boy as Potter as opposed to his given name.

Severus placed his hand on Potter's arm and ignored the way that Potter's muscles bunched and clenched beneath his hand. He wasn't gripping the boy too hard, just hard enough to let Potter know that he was still there, and for Potter to shoot a look of anger in his direction, rather than Prince's.

"That will be quite enough," Severus said evenly. "House elves are more than happy to serve wizards and witches, who are kind and fair, and there is no doubt in my mind, nor is there doubt in Mr. Prince's mind, that you will be fair and kind to Misty. If there was doubt, she would not have been charged with your care or you with hers."

Potter's eyes, dark green pools of swirling fear and confusion, searched Severus' for a moment, and then he relaxed and nodded. He turned to look at Prince, and, with a crooked smile, he scratched the back of his head, and apologized.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to be disrespectful or anything. I'm just not used to...well, any of this."

Severus kept his hand in place on Potter's arm, and found that it no longer felt awkward. He looked up to find that Prince was watching him with an unfathomable look on his face - something like longing, and regret, and joy, all warring with each other.

"That's quite understandable. As I understand it, you grew up with Muggles?"

It was clear to Severus that Prince was fishing for more information about the Dursleys, and he couldn't blame the wizard for trying. He hoped that Prince would have more success than Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Potter's friends and he had had. The boy, for all of his pomp, was close-lipped about his family.

Potter nodded, and when Severus cleared his throat, he muttered a quick, "Yes, sir."

"So, house elves are something of a novelty, then," Prince stated.

"I only know of the one," Potter acknowledged, "and he almost got me kicked out of Hogwarts."

Severus groaned and hid his face in between his fingers as Prince asked the obvious, and Potter launched into the tale of Dobby the house elf whom he'd freed during his second year. Much to Severus' surprise, Potter skipped over certain details that he thought that the boy would capitalize upon, and downplayed his role in the rescue of the Weasley girl. Prince's uproarious laughter at Potter's escapades as he told his tale was even more surprising, but then again, the boy had spun the story in such a way that none of the horrors he and his friends had faced were mentioned with any great detail.

Severus, himself, found the boy's rendition of what had been a rather horrifying ordeal, to be entertaining, and found himself shaking his head and smiling from time to time. Listening to Potter talk like this inevitably reminded him of Lily, who had been an amazing, and enchanting story-teller in her own right.

If Severus recalled correctly, James Potter had been talented in the gift of story-telling as well, so it was something that no doubt came to Potter naturally, much as his affinity for thwarting rules and challenging authority. That was something Potter shared with both of his parents as well. As much as Severus liked to attribute Potter's more dislikable attributes to his obnoxious father, he had to concede that Lily was equally, if not more, defiant than James Potter had been.

By the time dinner had rolled around, Potter and Prince were much more comfortable in each other's presence - almost as thick as thieves, Severus thought with a frown as he listened to his grandfather tell a tale from his own youth that had Potter laughing fit to split his sides. Severus realized, belatedly, that he had not taken his hand off of Potter's arm and removed it with a start when Gary led them from the library to the dining room. The fact that Potter hadn't bothered to shrug his hand off was more than just a little shocking.

"Severus," Prince broke through his thoughts, and Severus gave him a half smile. "You didn't tell me that, young Harry here was such a delightful young man."

Severus ignored the comical look of trepidation that Potter shot him, and said, in a dry voice, "I do apologize grandfather; Potter's ability to spin such fine tales must have escaped my attention." He gave Potter a wry smile, and likewise ignored the laugh that Potter tried unsuccessfully to disguise as a cough.

The sudden brightness in Prince's eyes and the way that the man embraced him took Severus completely off-guard until he thought back through what he'd said, and realized that he'd unintentionally called the wizard, grandfather.  Potter was giving him a thoughtful look as well, but he looked away when he saw that Severus noticed.

Dinner was a somewhat subdued affair. From the wide-eyed looks that Potter kept shooting in his, and Prince's direction, it was clear to Severus that the boy was not used to such elaborate dinners - he watched the both of them covertly to see which utensil he should use next. Severus was ill-used to such fancy dinners as well.

Hogwarts didn't hold such extravagant meals, not even during holidays, and Severus doubted that the boy's family had hosted such meals. His own family hadn't had the means, the estranged Princes aside. Severus wasn't certain which utensils went with which dishes either, and felt completely out of his element.

Severus knew by the look on Potter's face that the boy was more than a little overwhelmed, and Severus couldn't blame him. He was overwhelmed, too. It was clear to Severus that Prince had gone to great extremes in an effort to impress Potter, and quite possibly himself.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about all of it, but Severus doubted that he was supposed to be angry. At first, he wasn't sure why he was angry, but then, when he looked at his grandfather - the great and regal Severus Prince that his mother had spoken of so lovingly over the years - smiling and talking with Potter as though they'd known each other forever, Severus realized that he'd been robbed.

This easy camaraderie that Severus' grandfather had with Potter should have been his. It should have been Severus, not Potter, who'd been rescued from an abusive family. Severus should not have had to suffer through seemingly endless years of bruises, broken bones, and verbal abuse, all because his grandfather didn't have the backbone to stand up to his overbearing wife.

Severus was so angry that he almost couldn't see straight, and it was all he could do to remain civil and listen to Prince and Potter talk about boyhood memories. Potter's tales were largely lies, Severus recognized that, and it made him sick to think that Potter would orchestrate fabricated stories to please a complete stranger, no matter that the man was going to be his adoptive grandfather in a few weeks' time.

Maybe, if his grandfather had stood up to his grandmother and opened up the line of communications with his daughter, Severus' life would have turned out differently. Maybe he'd have had a chance with Lily, and, maybe he, rather than James Potter, would have been Harry's father.

It was a dizzying train of thought and Severus was finding it difficult to make it stop. Had Severus Prince had the balls to stand up to his wife, Severus would never have turned to the Dark Lord. No amount of money, or apologies would make up for what Severus had suffered over the years.

Severus' childhood had been stolen from him, and he was angry because his grandfather was finally stepping up to the plate, except it was over two decades too late for Severus. Severus turned to look at Potter, and was struck by how young the boy looked, how much he took after Lily, who would have eventually warmed up to the elder Prince much as Potter had.

Potter was much too open, and trusting. He had taken to Prince much quicker than he should have, and Severus knew that he'd have to teach the boy how dangerous it could be to trust others when they hadn't earned that trust.

As Severus watched the ease with which Potter conversed with Prince, he was shaken to the core as he realized that, contrary to Dumbledore's contention that he disliked Potter because he was still holding a grudge against James, he was jealous of the boy. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off an oncoming headache.

"Severus, are you alright?" Prince turned his attention to his grandson, a slight frown marring his features.

Severus had to stifle the biting remark that was just on his tongue, and he nodded instead. "I'm fine; it's been a long week."

"I apologize for monopolizing the evening with boyhood tales." Prince gave Severus an assessing look, and he sighed. "I've been playing this night over and over in my mind, since before we even met, and it seems to me that I've gotten carried away. I'm sorry Severus. I know that I can't undo the past, though I wish to Merlin that I could. If I could have, I would have gone against Theodora's wishes and visited my little girl, and her son. I would never have let things get so...out of hand."

Potter snuck a look at Severus beneath his eyelashes, and Severus held himself in check. He didn't understand why his emotions were so out of control. He'd always kept a tight rein on them. He'd had to, from a very young age. With Potter looking at him like that - as though waiting for a cue from him as to what an appropriate reaction to such a confession should be.

It was very daunting, having Potter look to him for answers. Like a son to his father. Severus was shaking, though he doubted that Prince or Potter could see the slight tremors. He was angry and jealous and aching for something that he refused to put a name to.

He wanted Dumbledore. He wanted his mother. Severus almost laughed out loud at that. He hadn't wanted his mother like this for years now.

He wanted to be somewhere else. Another time, another place. Hell, he wanted another life. The life that he could have had, had Prince not let his wife reign supreme.

"For what it's worth, Severus, I am sorry." Prince's voice was thick with sorrow, and Potter was looking back and forth between the both of them.

Severus could tell that the boy was uncomfortable, and he wondered if Petunia and his uncle had ever argued in front of him, like Severus' mother and father had.

‘Tobias, stop it, you're scaring him!'

Severus had his hands clamped tightly over his ears, but he could still hear his mother's high pitched voice as he huddled in a corner of the kitchen. His mother was pointing in his direction, and she was scaring him almost as much as his father was.

His father, paying no heed to her words, slapped her across the face and sent her stumbling into the edge of the counter. Severus shut his eyes, because he hoped that if he couldn't see what his father was doing to his mother, then maybe it wasn't happening. Maybe he could pretend, or magic it all away. He rocked back and forth, waiting for the sound of shouting and slapping, and screaming to go away.

‘I should never have left home to be with you!'

The sounds of his parents fighting always hurt his ears, and tore at his heart. He hated when they fought. They always said mean, horrible things to each other and it made Severus want to disappear, or be swallowed into the ground. He hated hearing his mother's terrified and angry shouts and his father's loud, loud voice, and the meaty sounds that flesh striking flesh made.

‘You're nothing but a useless slut and a whore!'

In an attempt to drown out the shouting, Severus hummed to himself. He pretended that he was far, far away in a place where no one shouted, no one raised a fist or a belt to anyone, and where he was loved.

Severus closed his eyes against the memory, and struggled to push the accompanying emotions back down where they belonged. Emotions only brought trouble and pain, and Severus had vowed, from a very young age, that he wouldn't give into them. The emotions, however, refused to be banished, and so Severus was forced to deal with them.

He made the mistake of looking at Potter when he opened his eyes, and Severus could see emotions welling in the boy's green orbs. He really did have Lily's eyes. Understanding and pain were reflected in them. It was too much for Severus, and he had to look away.

His grandfather's eyes held shame and sorrow, and Severus felt his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the onslaught of all of these unveiled emotions. Eyes really are the window to the soul, Severus thought numbly, and he wondered what his grandfather and Potter had read in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir," Potter said. "I should have remembered not to talk during dinner. I, I just forgot."

Severus' eyes snapped to Potter's, and he had to quash the desire to shout at the boy. "Potter," he said in a quiet, yet firm voice, "you have nothing to be sorry for. It is perfectly acceptable to participate in conversation while at the dinner table, no matter what your ill-informed relatives told you to the contrary."

Potter nodded in response, but dropped his eyes to the tabletop. "I didn't mean to talk so much, though, sir. It's just..."

"You were enjoying yourself, Potter," Severus said, and there was no acrimony in his voice. Potter raised his eyes once again, and Severus gave him a slight smile which, for some reason, made Potter frown. "There is no crime in that."

"But," Potter opened his mouth to protest, and closed it with an audible clack of teeth when Severus raised an eyebrow in response.

"You do not need to apologize for talking or enjoying yourself. And," Severus turned to look at his grandfather who was watching his interaction with Potter with a keen interest.

Severus took a deep breath. There were a million things he wanted to say to Severus Prince, and yet only one thing that needed to be said.

"I'm sorry, too," he said, and his eyes never wavered from his grandfather's, even though it hurt to look into them. "I'm sorry that you couldn't find it in yourself to stand up to your wife, and end the charade of hurt and forced estrangement that she perpetrated over the years. I'm sorry that I never got the chance to know you when I was a child, and that you didn't save my mom and me from my father."

Severus swallowed the rest of the words that insisted they wanted to be heard, and finally wrangled his emotions under some semblance of control. He'd revealed far more than he'd intended to. He hadn't wanted Potter to hear any of that, and was surprised to find that, instead of staring at him with a gaping mouth, or shaking his head in pity, Potter was favoring Prince with a look of ill-suppressed anger.

"I never knew," Prince whispered. He sounded old and tired and horrified.

Potter's eyes flashed, and Severus saw Lily reflected clearly in the way her son squared his shoulders and firmed his jaw.

"The Dursleys didn't feed me much, and when they did, it wasn't enough," Potter said in a much too quiet voice, his mouth twisting in a grimace, as though he wasn't quite in control of what his mouth was saying, and Severus could sympathize.

"I was always hungry. Uncle Vernon didn't like me much, and Aunt Petunia, she never loved me. Dudley saw me as nothing more than a punching bag," Potter paled, and it looked like he wanted to stop talking, but his mouth refused to listen.

"When I was a little boy, I used to sit in my cupboard and make believe that I had a family that loved me." Potter smiled slightly, and he had a faraway look in his eyes. "I'd pretend that I had a mother and a father who would take me away from my aunt and uncle, or that maybe I had some other relative who would save me from their hurtful words, fists and frying pans. But," he looked directly at Prince, "that never happened, because, for me, there is no one else."

"Potter." Severus wasn't sure what to say, or how to respond to what the boy had divulged.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Prince said, and he reached across the table, enveloping one of Potter's fists with his hand. "I'm sorry that no one rescued you."

Potter raised tear-filled eyes to Prince, and he shook his head. "You should have saved him," he said quietly, and he jerked his chin in Severus' direction.

Shocked at Potter's response, Severus could only stare at the boy.

"I didn't know," Prince said, and to Severus the words sounded hollow.

"You should have known," Potter said, in the way that made him seem much older than he was. Potter's ire on his behalf was something that Severus would never have anticipated, and Severus wasn't sure what to think.

To Severus' immense surprise, Prince was nodding. "You're right, Harry, I should have known. I should never have turned a blind eye to what was happening to my daughter and my grandson. I should not have let my wife keep them from me."

"We can't change the past," Severus said, breaking an almost oppressive silence that had filled the dining room.

Prince shook himself, and released Potter's fist. "No, no we can't."

"But," Severus said slowly, unsure where the words were coming from, "we can move on, and learn from the past."

There was a part of Severus that didn't really want to do that. It was the same part of him which seemed hell-bent on insisting that Potter was nothing more than a miniature version of his horrid, obnoxious father.

Prince smiled, and reached for Severus' hand. Severus wasn't an overly affectionate man, and was definitely not given to overt, physical displays of love or the like, but he let his grandfather squeeze his hand, and he saw that Potter allowed the same.

It was an eerie sort of revelation that made Severus' head spin when he realized that Prince was, in a way, binding Potter and he together - creating a strange, familial link between the three of them with his gnarled hands. Severus was hit in the gut with the realization that this is what Dumbledore had been hoping for when he'd encouraged Severus to answer his grandfather's entreaty. He wondered if Dumbledore didn't know more about Potter's treatment at the Dursleys' than he was letting on, and if it was out of a sense of shame that the man was practically throwing Potter at Severus', and his estranged grandfather's feet.

If that was the case, the Headmaster had a lot to answer for, and Severus was not going to simply let something like this drop. No child deserved to live with relatives that abused him, not when it was in the power of another to take that child out of it. He, like the Headmaster, was duty-bound to keep children safe from harm.

"So," Prince said, and he cleared his throat, releasing their hands. "How about some dessert?"

And, just like that, the heaviness which had settled over them was broken, like a spell, and Potter was back to smiling, and laughing at his soon to be adoptive great grandfather's stories, and Severus was wondering how he was going to tame this onslaught of emotions, before it got the best of him.