After getting Harry settled in his new room, Severus had returned to his study, hoping to finish a bit of work that was left forgotten the last few days. Usually by this time in the summer, he would have already completed his lesson plans for the upcoming school year and would now be finishing the last batches of potions for the infirmary. Though granted, this summer had been vastly different to the many before. And with all the distractions, Severus hadn't even started on his brewing as of yet.

As soon as Severus settled at his desk to begin working, Kieran peered in, asking if Severus would go flying with him. He had declined Kieran's request and told the boy he was free to fly by himself as long as he stayed within the wards. Apparently, it had been the wrong answer, because Kieran started whining, practically begging him, and nothing aggravated Severus more than such childish, impudent behavior. With a pointed glare, Severus threatened to confiscate his broom and send him to his room if he didn't cease this insufferable attitude. That seemed to quiet Kieran, though the boy didn't immediately storm out of the room like Severus anticipated. Instead, Kieran crossed his arms and defiantly stayed rooted to the spot for several moments until he seemed to realize that Severus wasn't going to budge. Then finally, with some indistinct mumbling under his breath, Kieran petulantly stomped out of Severus' study.

And it wasn't long after Kieran had left that Severus' work was disrupted for the second time. There was a sharp rap at the door, and without waiting for an answer, Clarice let herself in and took a seat in the chair facing his desk.

Severus inwardly groaned. Now what?

This was definitely not how he'd envisioned spending his morning back.

Severus didn't glance up from his work until Clarice shifted in her seat and loudly cleared her throat.

"Can I help you, Clarice?" Severus asked after giving an exasperated sigh.

"Kieran seemed upset after speaking to you," said Clarice. "He said he wanted to go flying with you."

"He did," Severus replied, lowering his quill, "but I am quite busy at the moment and Kieran needs to realize that throwing an insolent temper tantrum will not allow him to get what he wants."

Clarice frowned. "He just wants to spend time with his father, Severus," she said, leaning forward in her chair. "You do realize you have been gone for the past couple of days?"

"I am aware, yes, and am behind on my work as is, so if you don't mind..." Severus said as he returned his attention to the piece of parchment in front of him, hoping she'd take the hint.

But of course, she did not.

Somehow, a moment later, Clarice was on her feet and had made her way around his desk to come stand behind him. Her thin hands landed on his shoulders, and Severus stiffened at the sudden contact.

"You're so stiff, Severus," Clarice commented, beginning to knead circles into his tense shoulders. "It seems ever since that boy arrived, you have been so tense. I can't believe you're still allowing him to stay in your home after everything he put you through."

Not this again. Severus gritted his teeth and roughly pushed his chair back with a loud screech, startling her in the process.

"Of course I would let him stay. In case you have forgotten, he is also my son," Severus said, and in one smooth motion, he sidestepped out of her reach and moved to the other side of his desk.

Clarice frowned, arms folded across her chest. "Do you not care about our safety? For Kieran—our son's— safety?"

"Course I do," Severus bit out, "as equally as I do Harry's."

And as expected, Clarice opened her mouth to no doubt respond with something disagreeable, but Severus cut her off before she could.

"Do not start— we are not having this conversation again."

Clarice's lips thinned into slits. "I wasn't finished speaking with you the last time before you abruptly left."

"There were more important matters that needed my attention."

"Oh, so Kieran's not as important as him."

"I never said that— do not put words into my mouth," Severus snarled, clutching the back of the chair that Clarice had vacated a bit too tightly.

"But you implied it," she said, gesturing a hand towards him. "You are acting like everyone else now—"

"Kieran was fine before I left, I had made sure of it, and he wasn't the one suffering from a curse in the hospital wing," Severus interrupted in a dangerously low tone, his tolerance with the woman wearing thin.

There was something that changed in Clarice's eyes at that, but Severus couldn't distinguish anything from it before the look was gone a second later. Clarice made a disparaging noise then, and rolled her eyes. "Honestly Severus, the boy is too much trouble for what he's worth. I don't understand why everyone seems to think he's capable of defeating You-Know-Who."

Severus pinched the bridge of his noise, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming between his eyes. "I do not care how dangerous you think Harry is, he is still my son, and therefore, will always have a home with me."

Clarice's blue eyes flashed. "Don't you think he's putting too much strain on your life?" she asked, her voice rising as she continued. "You told me before how Dumbledore forced you to watch after him, even with all the mischief he got up to over the years. I think you deserve a break. Let Dumbledore handle the boy and the war."

"I have played a vital part in this war and I intend on seeing it through to the end," Severus said, wishing she would give it a rest already.

It wasn't Harry's fault that he had been thrust into this war as a baby and now was expected to carry the weight of the wizarding world on his much too thin shoulders. A burden that was much too heavy for any person to bear let alone a child, especially a child who had endured so much already before he had even stepped foot into Hogwarts. And after the events of the last few years, Severus wasn't about to let his son face anymore of this war alone.

A brief moment of silence passed before Clarice spoke again, her tone more calm this time. "Lily's gone Severus, perhaps it's about time you moved on with your life."

Severus sent her a smoldering glare, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Not until my son— mine and Lily's— is out of harms way."

"You have a family now, Severus!" said Clarice, taking a few steps towards him. "Have you ever thought about how Kieran would feel if something happened to you?"

"Enough!" Severus snapped, slamming his palms on his desk. He noticed Clarice flinch almost imperceptibly and take a small step back. "If you feel so unsafe here, as you have been claiming, you are more than welcome to leave. Harry is staying, whether you like it or not."

For a moment, Clarice appeared shocked. She opened her mouth to respond, but then she snapped it shut a second later, seeming to decide against it. Instead, she sighed and gave a curt nod at Severus' words.

Severus gave her a pointed look. "This is my home. You will do well to remember that."

With a short glance at the clock on his mantelpiece, Severus realized it was time for lunch. And as he was thoroughly finished with this conversation, Severus swept out of his study without a backwards glance and headed towards the kitchen.

Lunch was a rather tense affair, though Kieran didn't seem to mind much. Apparently, the boy wasn't aware of the tension between his parents, or he was simply ignoring it, as he decided to tell Severus of everything he did the last few days. Severus ended up only half listening to it all, his main focus on Harry.

Severus noticed that the boy was back to picking at his food with a deep frown on his face, taking a few bites here and there but not really appearing as if he had any appetite.

Maybe he was simply tired? He was still recovering after all...

But then Severus' thoughts went back to earlier, to how delighted Harry had been when Severus had given him his new room. It hadn't been Severus' intention to spoil the boy, but then again, maybe Harry deserved to be spoiled for once. The way his son's eye's lit up and his smile that could brighten an entire room was more than worth it. Severus hoped to see that expression more often from now on.

At the moment, however, it was such a vast contrast to how the boy looked now. Harry was certainly troubled by something. But what had changed between then and now? How did the boy go from seeming content to depressed in the matter of an hour? As Severus discreetly studied his son, he wondered why Harry would sometimes glance back and forth between himself and Clarice before hastily returning his gaze to his own plate. Determined to understand this abrupt change in demeanor, Severus resolved to speak to the boy later, hoping Harry would reveal what was troubling him.

"May I please be excused, sir?" Harry asked softly, setting his fork down. "I don't think I can eat anymore..."

Severus supposed he could allow it just this once. He would have to make sure the boy ate more during dinner.

"Yes, you may, after you drink the rest of your pumpkin juice," Severus said. A nutrients potion had been mixed into it by the house elves this morning as instructed by Severus. The boy was currently far too thin and certainly needed all the supplemental nutrients he could get.

Harry wordlessly obeyed, draining the rest of his goblet before quietly leaving the room.

A few hours later, Harry was resting on his bed, staring up at the top of his four poster bed. The conversation between his father and Kieran's mother was still playing through his mind. His heart had warmed at hearing his father defending him, but he also couldn't help seeing the truth in her statements. At least now he could understand why the woman seemed to hate him so much. It was a known fact how dangerous he was to everyone around him, just look at all the people that had been hurt because of him. Harry was a walking magnet for trouble, and he couldn't blame them for not wanting him around.

And Harry certainly didn't want to cause his father more trouble than he already had, seeing as the man had done more for him than anyone else ever did before. His father had bought him new clothes and school supplies, even giving him a new room on top of that. All of which Snape didn't have to do, but he still did.

I don't deserve it...

All Harry had done was cause more trouble for the man.

And perhaps Snape did want a family with Kieran's mother— was Harry in the way of that? It did appear as if they fancied each other during the trip in Diagon Alley. He remembered how much the three looked like a proper family.

And I'm just the burden again...

Harry sighed, shaking his head, trying to divert his train of thought away from the depressing track it was heading down.

Looking towards his desk at the letters from his friends, Harry remembered that he still needed to respond to them. He slid off his bed and took a seat at his desk, picking up his quill and reaching for a blank sheet of parchment. For a long moment, he simply stared down at it, wondering how he should begin. He wasn't sure how to tell them, but mostly he was dreading their reactions. Hermione, Harry could see being understanding, but Ron could be quite stubborn at times. Harry remembered the row they had in fourth year and how long that had lasted. Would Ron still want to be his friend after he knows the truth about Harry actually being Snape's son?

"Hey Potter—"

Harry spun around in his chair, just in time to see Kieran fall back and land unceremoniously on his backside with a surprised oof.

He wondered what had even happened. There wasn't anything in the doorway that Harry could see; it was as if Kieran had run into thin air.

Kieran scrambled to his feet and reached a hand out, as if trying to feel for a secret entrance into the room.

It was as if an invisible wall was placed in his doorway, and looking closely, Harry could now make out what appeared to be some sort of a shimmery, translucent curtain. It was nearly imperceptible if he didn't look hard enough. Kieran soon placed both hands on the barrier and slammed his palms against it, as if he thought the curtain would shatter if he hit hard enough.

"What the—?"

"Kieran, what are you doing?"

Kieran immediately stopped, turning towards the sound of their father's distinct voice coming down the corridor.

"I was just wondering why I can't go into Potter's room," Kieran said as Snape approached.

His father raised an eyebrow at him, and without a word, proceeded to walk straight into Harry's room, unaffected by the barrier that was preventing Kieran from doing the same. Kieran appeared surprised at that and tried following but was still unable to enter.

"It's warded," Snape said simply, smirking at Kieran's confused expression.

"Why?"

"I believe it's rather obvious," his father said. "Now that your rooms are quite close to one another, I do not want you bothering Harry while he recovers."

Harry was glad that his father implemented wards to keep Kieran out, knowing that Kieran would visit him often just to mess with Harry whenever he could. He definitely didn't want to deal with that everyday.

Kieran appeared affronted. "I don't bother him," he said indignantly, crossing his arms.

"Really?" Snape drawled. "Then what is your reason for wanting to enter Harry's room now?"

"I just wanted to see his new room," Kieran said innocently with a shrug.

"You have a perfectly adequate view from the corridor," his father said dryly.

Kieran huffed, pressing a hand against the wards again. "Dad—" he began to protest, but Snape quickly cut him off.

"It is getting late, I suggest you return to your own room, Kieran."

"But—"

"Go," his father said sternly.

For a moment, Kieran stayed, glaring defiantly at Snape until he could no longer hold his father's intense gaze

"Fine," he muttered, turning and storming off down the corridor.

Once they could no longer hear Kieran anymore, Snape turned his attention to Harry.

"Are you all right?" his father asked, making his way toward him, his dark eyes studying him.

Harry just nodded, a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"You didn't eat much of your lunch," Snape said, leaning against Harry's bed frame.

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't really hungry."

"Are you feeling ill?" his father asked, gently placing a warm hand against Harry's forehead, a hint of concern showing on his features.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, surprised by the gesture.

His father nodded, then extracted a jar of purple salve from one of his robe pockets, one that Madam Pomfrey had given him this morning.

"Remove your shirt off and lay on your stomach," Snape said. "I need to apply this salve to the scars on your back."

Harry did as he was told, shivering slightly as he pulled his shirt up over his head. Then he laid down on his bed and rested his head on his folded arms, turning so that he could still see glimpses of his father while the salve was applied.

"The scars are healing nicely," Snape murmured from above him, his fingers rubbing the salve gently onto his back. Harry could feel a cold tingly sensation from where the salve was doing its magic.

Once his father had finished applying the salve, Harry pulled his shirt back on and sat up leaning against the headboard.

Snape took a seat in Harry's desk chair. "Now, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has informed you about the extra defense lessons you will have with me, however, considering you still need to recover and regain some strength before you can start using magic, I suggest we begin your potions lessons in the meantime."

Harry had almost forgotten about those lessons and couldn't help feeling a bit anxious about them. The last time Harry had a lesson with Snape, the man had hated him. Harry was still uncertain about his potion brewing abilities, but after studying and reading more about the subject this summer, he found his interest in it had definitely increased from before. At least here, Harry wouldn't have to worry about someone chucking things into his cauldron when his back was turned.

"Something is troubling you," his father said suddenly, breaking Harry out of his thoughts and catching him off guard. "What is it, Harry?"

"Er— nothing, I'm fine," said Harry, shifting uncomfortably a bit, feeling his father's dark eyes watching him. He didn't think it was a good idea to tell Snape that he'd eavesdropped on his private conversation with Clarice. And the other worries Harry had were nothing that he couldn't handle himself.

Snape frowned, appearing unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry answered.

His father gave a slight sigh before saying, "Very well. Do you need some Dreamless Sleep for tonight?"

"I think I'll be fine without it," Harry said, sounding more sure than he felt.

Snape gave him a long look before he nodded. "Do not hesitate to come to me if you need anything, Harry," his father said as he stood and pushed the desk chair back into place.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, giving the tiniest of smiles. He couldn't really describe the feelings running through him at the moment. He'd never had anyone that would notice if something was bothering him and actually cared enough to ask, besides Ron and Hermione.

The next morning after breakfast, Kieran was glaring at him, as usual.

"It's not fair!" Kieran complained to Snape. "Why can't I join in the potions lesson too?"

"I have already told you," his father said impatiently. "The potion we are brewing today is too advanced for your skill level."

"But you know I'm good at potions!"

"It's a potion I will teach you when become a fifth year student."

"You can teach me now!" said Kieran. "I can handle it!"

"That's enough, Kieran," Snape said firmly. "We are finished discussing this. I suggest you start your summer assignments, and I better not find you lazying about."

His father then turned to Harry. "Come along, Harry," he said before sweeping out of the room.

Kieran didn't say anything more, aiming a very Snape-like scowl at Harry as Harry made to follow his father.

Once they arrived in Snape's potions lab, Harry drew in a deep breath, hoping to settle his nerves. He wanted to do well and show his father that he was capable of successfully brewing a potion, something which he'd never had the chance to do in potion classes.

Glancing at all the tools and ingredients laid out on the tabletop, Harry realized they were going to be brewing Calming Draughts.

"This lesson will be focused on Calming Draughts," his father said, slipping easily into his professor voice. "I believe you are already familiar with this brew as it was already covered in fifth year?"

At Harry's nod, Snape continued, "Can you tell me what the three main ingredients of this potion are?"

"Er... Valerian roots, lavender sprigs and... three drops of honeywater," Harry answered.

His father nodded. "Correct."

After a few rounds of questions about the properties of the ingredients, his father let him begin the potion. As Harry was pulverizing the lavender sprigs, he noticed that Snape seemed to be brewing the same potion beside him, with three cauldrons bubbling simultaneously. His father was working over all three, moving between each one as he stirred, added ingredients, and chanted spells with such perfect speed and precision and concentration that Harry was awed by it. He didn't think he would ever be able to do that with potions, even if he worked on them for a thousand years. Harry could barely manage one cauldron at a time, let alone three at once.

"Harry."

Harry froze, his knife hovering above the Valerian root he was dicing, expecting the man to begin criticizing him like he so often did in class. To his surprise, his father began patiently correcting him instead.

"In order for the potion to maintain maximal potency, the ingredients must be prepared properly. Dice the roots into equally sized pieces," Snape said, demonstrating the proper technique, his movements smooth and precise as he chopped up a Valerian root into similar sized cubes.

"Like this?" Harry asked, doing his best to mimic his father's technique. He found that this way did make it easier to slice the roots evenly.

"Precisely," Snape said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards slightly, before he returned his attention to his bubbling cauldrons.

Harry smiled as he finished up with the roots. As the lesson went on, the tension he'd previously felt, along with his anxiousness, seemed to have eased considerably now that he knew Snape wasn't about to suddenly belittle him. There was no doubt that his father was very knowledgable and passionate about this subject, and Harry came to realize that the man could make a good teacher if he didn't breath down the students' necks all the time in class. Though Harry could understand the strictness to which Snape oversees his classes as a little mistake made by a careless student could cause an explosion, leading to deadly consequences.

He had become so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice he was about to skip an important step. As Harry was making to drop the Mugwort into his cauldron, a sharp voice startled him and he violently flinched back when he saw a raised hand in his periphery.

And suddenly, the potions lab had vanished, replaced by the Dursley's pristine Muggle kitchen and Uncle Vernon's loud bantering ringing in his ears. The man was hovering over him menacingly, clutching a leather belt in his meaty hand about to strike its target. Harry shut his eyes and shrunk back, raising his arms up in an attempt to shield himself, waiting for the inevitable blow... but it never came.

Harry blinked, slowly lowering his arms. The room had reverted back to Snape's lab, and Harry realized that he had fallen down onto the floor. He glanced up and saw his father with his hand still up, staring down at Harry with shock.

"I would never hit you," his father said softly, lowering his hand slowly. There was a hint of sadness in his dark eyes.

"S-sorry, it just was a reflex," Harry said lamely, flushing a bit as he quickly got to his feet and righted his fallen stool. "I know you would never hurt me."

He chided himself for overreacting like that. Of course Harry knew his father would never hurt him.

His father sighed and muttered something under his breath that sounded like despicable muggles, before the man composed himself and gestured at Harry's cauldron.

"Do you realize that, had you added the Mugwort before the Valerian roots, the Mugwort would have caused a rather powerful chemical reaction without the Valerian to neutralize it?" Snape asked sternly.

Harry's heart sank. "Sorry sir, I got distracted," he said quietly, not looking at his father. Surely there wasn't any chance that Snape was going to let him into his N.E.W.T class now.

A hand landed lightly on his shoulder a moment later, and Harry hesitantly raised his eyes to meet his father's.

"Well, no harm done this time," Snape said calmly, surprising Harry. "Perhaps you should pay more attention to what you are doing."

Harry just barely stopped himself from gaping at him. Why was Snape not telling him off for being so careless? Why was the man being so calm when Harry had nearly blown up his cauldron?

"Continue with your potion," his father told him, returning back to his own station.

Harry nodded, turning back to his cauldron. He attempted to push that mishap out of his mind and made sure not let his thoughts wander this time.

The rest of the lesson finished smoothly and once Harry had completed his potion, he watched nervously, biting his lip and absently fidgeting with a loose thread on his trousers as his father took a stirrer and closely examined the concoction. He felt a bit more confident in his creation than he usually did in potions classes, but he knew Snape was very difficult to please. Harry thought his potion looked to be the correct color... but did it have the right consistency... or what about the—

Snape set the stirrer down and Harry held his breath, waiting for the verdict.

"Well done, Harry," Snape said, a rare pleased look crossing his father's features. "Your potion is of nearly perfect quality."

It took a while for his father's words to fully register in his mind, and when they finally did, Harry felt that unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

He couldn't help the bright smile that appeared on his face as he said, "Thank you, sir."

Over the next few days, Harry soon settled into a routine. Every day after breakfast, he would have a potions lesson with his father until lunch. Snape was now covering more advanced potions that Harry would be brewing in his sixth year, and his father was even allowing Harry to help him brew potions for the infirmary. Harry looked forward to these lessons every morning now. He found that it was a rather relaxing activity, and it was nice getting to spend time with his father, even if they were just brewing together in silence.

The rest of the day, Harry spent the time in his room, away from Kieran and his mother. Thankfully, Kieran ignored him most of the time which Harry was grateful for, due to the wards his father had erected on his door. There were moments where Kieran tried provoking him, but Harry looked the other way, not rising to his bait. Sometimes from his window, Harry would see Snape and Kieran flying outside together on their brooms while Clarice watched from the ground. Harry wasn't permitted to fly until he had recovered enough and gained some weight first, but still, he couldn't help the sense of longing every time he saw them. He would force himself to look away and refocus on the book in front of him.

His father had given him some interesting books from the library and Harry couldn't help staying up later than usual, reading them. If Hermione were here, she would be quite impressed to see how much Harry had been studying this summer and how much he had learned. And after many hours spent considering how to answer his friends' letters, Harry had finally written back. He had made sure let them know that he was fine after revealing the news. Now he was just waiting for their responses, a bit anxiously.

His nightmares have also returned, but he thought they weren't that bad. He could usually wake himself up before he started screaming and waking up the whole manor. The days would leave him exhausted, but his mind wouldn't grant him the rest his body needed. Harry didn't want to ask his father for Dreamless Sleep as he knew he couldn't rely on the potion every night. It was just something Harry would have to manage himself, like he'd always had. It was nothing to bother his father about.

One night though, Harry woke up with a strangled gasp, breathing heavily. The nightmare was still vivid in his mind as he drew in deep breaths, attempting to keep his rapidly pounding heart from bursting out of his chest. He pushed the sheets away and slowly slid out of bed, realizing that he was covered in a cold sweat and needed to go change.

He definitely wasn't planning on going back to sleep anytime soon, even though it was only two in the morning.

Wanting to grab a few more books from the library to help get his mind off the nightmare, Harry tiptoed his way quietly through the manor. As he was edging past his father's bedroom, Harry had an inexplicable urge to wake the man up and tell him about his nightmare. He couldn't comprehend where it came from, and before he knew it, his hand was already in a fist, an inch away from his father's door...

Right as he was about to knock, Harry froze.

What was he doing?

It was just another silly nightmare...

Surely, Snape wouldn't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night all because Harry had a stupid nightmare.

Shaking his head, Harry hastily backed away from the door and continued silently on his way to the library.