H.P.

Breakfast on the first day back after Christmas break had come around quickly. Snape was insisting on walking with Harry to the Great Hall until he could gauge the Slytherins' reaction to his sudden change of heart. News of Harry’s kidnapping and claims of Voldemort’s return had begun to spread as students returned to Hogwarts, but for the Slytherins it was Snape’s application to adopt Harry that was the real shock. What could be more of a betrayal for the Head of Slytherin?

'Sort your robes out. You aren't leaving these quarters looking like that.'

Harry looked down at his uniform and huffed aloud. Trust Snape to take offence at a few lousy creases. He wandered into his room in a half-hearted attempt to look as though he was going to do what he was told. Snape was agitated, that was what it was. The Prophet had gotten wind of the adoption application and, from the look on Snape's face when he'd set the paper alight, it wasn't saying great things about it. That was just a newspaper; it would be nothing compared to the reaction of the students. He didn't know whose reaction would be worse, the Gryffindors' or the Slytherins'.

'Harry!' Snape shouted impatiently.

'I'm not even hungry,' Harry groused as he trudged into the living room. 'I don't see why we both have to go to breakfast.'

Snape stood waiting by the front door with his usual scowl fixed firmly in place. 'Teachers take their meals in the Great Hall. If it wasn't part of my duties, I wouldn't do it. If you want to eat a meal during term, you'll eat with every other student here. We are to behave normally, and you aren't going to hide in my quarters.'

Harry bit his tongue. Snape was goading him deliberately with that 'hiding' line, he knew that well enough. He wanted to say that behaving normally wasn't the same as showing up at breakfast with your new dad. Anyway, he wasn't being a coward; he wasn't afraid.

Harry's suggestion of wearing his invisibility cloak had been shot down immediately. He wasn't annoyed that he was still staying in Snape's quarters for now; partly because he'd started having pretty vivid nightmares of the night he was taken, and it turned out that he was quite vocal about it, and also because they had no idea if he could occlude well enough to keep Voldemort out now that he was back in his body. Harry wasn't keen on finding out how much it would hurt if Voldemort broke through his defences.

'Take your hands out of your pockets, for Merlin's sake,' Snape hissed when they reached the doors to the Great Hall. He’d procrastinated long enough that almost everyone would be at breakfast already. They'd only passed the odd few stragglers on their way from the dungeons, all of them gawping stupidly at Snape and him.

'It'll give them less to stare at,' Harry replied, refusing to remove his hands. It was bad enough that they were all going to go mad about the adoption, he didn't want people staring at him because he couldn't hold his wand steady anymore. Madam Pomfrey had regrown his bones, Fawkes had healed him when he was bitten by a basilisk, but somehow magic couldn’t fix the tremors caused by multiple bouts of the Cruciatus curse. It could be months before he was back to normal.

'If you behave as if you're ashamed of your condition, they will see it as weakness. You were tortured and it has effects that you are more than coping with.'

'You might as well just say they're going to notice eventually and they're going to have a right laugh about it whatever I do.' He pulled his hands out of his pockets just to stop Snape going on about it. 'See you after dinner.'

Snape pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and strode towards the teacher's table. Something about the look on his face conveyed more clearly than usual that he was in a far from tolerant mood. The noise level dropped steadily as more students noticed them.

Harry made a beeline for the Gryffindor table, scanning the benches for Ron and Hermione and trying not to listen to the whispers as he walked past. He almost hurled himself into his seat as Ron made space beside him. There were a few muffled laughs and then the chatter rose to a normal level, although a few necks craned to get a look at him and there was quite a lot of finger-pointing in the hall.

'He – er – doesn't look too happy,' Ron said, nodding towards the teachers’ table.

'Have you got a copy of the Prophet?' Harry asked quickly. 'Snape burned the paper before I could get a look at it.'

'You call him that then?' Ron asked.

'Not to his face. Sir's all right with him.'

'Are you sure you want to look?' Hermione said, holding the newspaper back.

'Yeah, I'm sure.' He rolled his eyes and grabbed the paper. He didn't need to flick through the pages; it must have been a slow news day because they'd made the front page.

'Is it true, Harry? Is it true you were kidnapped over Christmas? Someone said you were tortured–'

'Shut up, Colin,' said Ron.

'Here Harry, you're not really living with Snape, are you?' Dean asked, glancing uncertainly up at the teacher's table. It was obvious that quite a few Gryffindors wanted to hear the answer. Harry was mid-way through the article though and he ignored the question in favour of reading on. His mouth dropped open in disgust. The Skeeter woman was making out as if he was some traumatised child and she referred to Snape as an ex-Death Eater the whole way through.

'This is saying I've lost it,' he said, tossing the paper down. It made him sound like some sort of nutter and Snape wasn't coming off too well by the way Skeeter kept bringing up his questionable past. No wonder Snape had been annoyed at the article. No one reading this would sign off on the adoption.

'You must've if you want to be adopted by Snape,' someone further up the table murmured to barely muffled sniggers.

'Oi, what do you lot know about it?' Ron glared at all the Gryffindors around them.

'It's not really true, though, is it?' Seamus asked.

'Not that crap, but Snape has applied to adopt me.'

The faces that looked back at him were aghast. 'Why?' Seamus asked.

'Because he wants to,' Harry replied simply, but with an edge to his voice that said the topic was closed.

No one said anything but if that article didn't convince them all that he was mad, those words seemed to do the trick. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and glowered.

S.S.

The staff hurriedly tucked their copies of the Prophet away as he swept up to the teachers' table, as though he wouldn't notice that they'd all been reading that blasted article.

'I hear congratulations are in order,' Professor Sinistra said as he took his seat.

He took a moment to send his most withering glare her way. He preferred this seat because she wasn't one to prattle on in the mornings; the last thing he wanted was for her to suddenly become a conversationalist. 'You can keep them to yourself,' he snarled as he poured himself tea.

His colleagues were not so dim that they couldn't take a hint and he was left to eat in relative peace. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the headmaster watching him and he clenched his teeth in anger. They hadn't spoken save for the staff meetings that Severus couldn't avoid. Just being in the same room with the man was enough to make him lose his temper. The headmaster had known about the horcrux in Harry's scar and had no intention of telling Severus until he forced it out of him the night Harry was taken. Albus had decided his son would have to die and he hadn't lifted a finger to stop it.

Severus wasn't blind to what the headmaster had been moulding Harry to be: he awarded him a ridiculous number of house points as a reward for risking his life, he insisted he take part in a tournament that he was far too young to compete in, he let him get to that infernal stone and fight a basilisk. The headmaster wanted to manipulate Harry into sacrificing himself willingly, happily even.

Severus looked about at the curious faces in the hall as he drank, at the students who nudged each other in the sides, who pointed and whispered behind their hands. He was not going to tolerate this in his classroom. This would stop.

Some of his Slytherins had mutinous expressions, but it was the Gryffindor table that kept drawing his gaze. Harry wasn't eating. He sat at the table with a grim expression on his face, his hands buried in his pockets. It wasn't long before he persuaded his friends to leave with him. He caught Severus' eye as he made to leave and, at his challenging look, he swiped up a slice of toast to eat on his way out. Blasted child.

 'Silence,' he intoned as he swept into his first class of the day.

The students were restless; whispers bounced back and forth across his classroom, and it was more than start of term excitement. This wasn't the reaction he usually received when he gave his class an instruction, especially not when he used that tone. He accepted that he would be the subject of gossip and rumour among the wizarding community, but not in his classroom.

'Five points from Ravenclaw, Thorpe,' he said, effectively wiping the smirk from the boy's face. 'It will be five points for every word I hear out of turn.' A fraction of a second later, 'I make that twenty, Lowe.' The room fell silent at once as every single student held their breath.

'But sir–' the Slytherin prefect complained, shock clear on her face.

'Thirty and detention.'

That ensured utter silence and defiant glares from the Slytherin sixth years. Good. He waved his wand and a long roll of parchment landed on every student's desk.

'Did I ask any of you to set up your cauldrons?' he asked smoothly, watching as the students battled with themselves over whether to immediately pack their equipment away or stay frozen in place and wait for him to give the next instruction.

'The last one to have a clear desk will be in an all-night detention with Filch.' There was a scramble as every student hurried to put away their equipment as fast as possible. 'Detention, Cauldwell. Report to Filch after dinner. I believe the owlery floor is in need of a thorough clean.' The look on Cauldwell's face was nothing short of appalled.

'I want to see how much of your first term at N.E.W.T level penetrated your thick skulls. I hope none of you were so utterly foolish as to neglect to do the assigned reading and revision over your Christmas break. You have exactly 55 minutes to complete your tests.'

The Ravenclaws exchanged sympathetic looks and the Slytherins scowled, but not a single word was uttered for the rest of the hour. Only the faint scratching of quills could be heard as the sixth-year students attempted to answer questions that a potion master's apprentice would struggle to answer.

Severus paced slowly up and down the rows of students, daring them to step out of line. None even dared to look up from their parchment as he passed them by, and he felt a flicker of satisfaction. If a single sixth or seventh year spoke out of turn, N.E.W.T level wasn't obligatory. It was the younger years that would prove to be the most difficult, and there was one fourth-year class he was dreading.

H.P.

'They haven't even reported that Voldemort's back, not even that there's a rumour of it,' Harry murmured at the back of the transfiguration classroom before McGonagall showed up. 'They're too busy writing rubbish about me.'

The rest of the class were keeping a distance from Harry. It was as though they couldn't decide whether they were angry at him for agreeing to be adopted by Snape or whether they thought he'd really lost it. He could feel their eyes on him, staring. He'd pulled Ron and Hermione to the very back of the classroom so no one would see how bad his wand work was if McGonagall made them try out a new spell, but it had the additional bonus of allowing them to speak without being overheard.

'They won't say anything about You-Know-Who,' Ron replied. 'My dad says that Fudge is convinced you're just traumatised or whatever. He doesn't want to admit he could be back and he's not happy that Dumbledore's been putting it about that you're telling the truth.'

'You-Know-Who is making it easy to believe that you're lying. Why do you think he hasn't shown himself?' Hermione asked.

'He must be planning something.'

'What does – er, Snape think?' Ron asked. He wasn't any good at hiding his feelings, but Harry figured that if he was making an effort to pretend that he was all right with the adoption then that'd have to do for now. At least until he proved to them that Snape made a good dad.

'He gets annoyed if I bring it up,’ Harry replied. ‘He reckons I'm just bursting to go after him myself when I’m like this.'

Professor McGonagall entered the room and they fell silent. He fiddled self-consciously with his wand, secretly hoping they weren’t going to do spells. It was the first time he’d ever wished to just sit and do book work. He could write well enough to jot down notes but if it came to learning a new spell, he wasn't looking forward to failing in front of the whole class.

He couldn't take his potion until lunchtime, which meant all his morning classes were going to be the hardest of the day. He'd been practising defending himself with Snape in the evenings and it wasn't as though he couldn't cast all spells, just not complicated ones with specific hand movements… Exactly the sort of thing that tended to come up in transfiguration.

‘We’ll be practicing organic to mineral transfiguration today. If you’ve completed the required reading, I should expect to see a pebble on each of your desks by the end of the lesson.’ McGonagall walked up and down the aisles, placing a small plant pot on each desk. Harry poked unenthusiastically at the three leaves that curled over the damp soil.

At the front of the class McGonagall demonstrated the spell. Her wand arced through the air, flicked and then came to rest decisively on the pink petalled rose. An instant later and a perfectly flat stone appeared in its place, just like the ones Harry had skipped in the summer when Snape had taken him to the beach.

‘Begin.’

The classroom filled with the sounds of dozens of fourth years incanting all at once. He felt McGonagall’s eyes on him as he copied her wand movements, but his limbs weren’t co-operating. The slightest twitch disturbed the path of the arc or sent his spell skittering in the wrong direction.

By the end of class, Hermione’s ivy had turned into a smooth green stone, the pattern of the leaves still visible on its surface. Ron hadn’t fared as well, with a rough mud-covered rock on his desk, sprouting leaves from various cracks and crevices. Harry’s pot remained stubbornly unchanged, the leaves twitching as he cast.

McGonagall paused at his desk as she cleared away their attempts. She looked at him not unkindly over her spectacles. ‘More determination in your incantation wouldn’t go amiss, Mr Potter. You have to believe it will work.’

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he answered tightly.

‘It’ll get better,’ Hermione murmured encouragingly as they packed up.

‘I know, I know. It’s temporary,’ he shrugged, feigning indifference at the curious glances from his housemates. Only he and Neville hadn’t succeeded in making any change to their plants and the other boy gave him a look that was half smile and half grimace as he hefted his bag over his shoulder.

‘Care of Magical Creatures next. What’s the worst Hagrid can have come up with?’ Ron asked, clapping him on the shoulder as they headed out.

Harry mustered up a grin. This was a class he could still do, no matter how bad the shaking got. No tricky wand movements, just dangerous magical creatures and mild peril. It was just a shame about the Slytherins. The other Houses thought he'd lost his mind; the Slytherins were glaring at him like he'd stolen something from them.

''Arry! It's good ter see yeh,' Hagrid called out as they arrived in the clearing.

'Hi, Hagrid.' he smiled.

''Ave yeh three bin lookin' forward ter class?'

'Of course,' Hermione squeaked apprehensively, trying to get a look in the boxes behind Hagrid. There was a muffled thumping and the occasional worrisome fizz that made them wary of getting too close.

'Best class of the day for me, so long as I don't have to actually cast anything.'

'Professor Snape did 'ave a word with all o’ us about yer spells. Not ter worry, today I'll just be showin' 'em to yeh. Skrewts!' he announced happily.

'Whats?' Ron asked nervously, craning his neck to see but not daring to inch any closer.

The Slytherins began to arrive, derisive laughter ringing out ahead of them. When Harry turned around, he saw Malfoy miming dropping his wand to raucous laughter. His face burned with embarrassment and he turned back to Hagrid's boxes, plunging his hands deep into his pockets.

'Quieten down, all o' yeh. Yeh don' want ter make 'em nervous.'

Beside Harry, Hermione made a worried noise of her own. She didn’t look any less concerned by the time class ended and Hagrid let them back away from the boxes of baby skrewts.

On their way back up to the castle she wrung her hands nervously. ‘Do you think they’re even legal?’ she asked quietly.

‘Probably. It’s not like Norbert, is it? He’s not keeping them secret,’ Ron shrugged.

Before they could reach the castle steps, Malfoy appeared, blocking his path up to the door. As usual, he wasn’t alone, but it looked like more Slytherins than were taking an interest now.

'How long do you think you'll last next time, Potter?' he laughed quietly. Harry curled his fist tightly around his wand.

'Long enough to make sure your father gets caught. I know he was there.'

'And I know you screamed, and you cried. You were so scared you haven't stopped shaking,' Draco sneered. 'He's going to kill you, Potter. It's a matter of time.'

'Shove off, Malfoy,' Ron said, stepping up to Malfoy and putting himself between the Slytherins and Harry.

'You want to talk about fear?' Harry returned angrily, stepping around Ron. 'Your father took off running, all your fathers did.' He looked at Crabbe and Goyle who stood cracking their knuckles and trying to look menacing. After facing Voldemort and a bunch of real Death Eaters, those two didn’t faze him. 'Since when did it take twenty witches and wizards to murder one teenager? Your Death Eater father is pathetic and so are you.'

Malfoy's eyes narrowed into vicious slits. 'Pathetic, Potter, is believing that Snape wants to adopt you. He's told my father all about how much he hated having you in his quarters.'

'He was playing a part.'

'You're the only one who thinks so. Even your precious Gryffindor friends know he doesn't really want you.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'If you're right, he's going to get killed and it'll be your fault. If you're wrong, he'll take you to the Dark Lord himself. Either way you're not going to last long when you're so weak, are you, Potter?'

'I'm not weak. I can still take you, Malfoy,' he said, raising his wand. He was shaking now, but it was with anger more than anything else. He might not be able to transfigure so much as a beetle into a button, but he'd been practising offensive spells more than ever.

'Don't. Harry, put your wand down. Someone's coming,' Hermione murmured, pushing his hand down when he didn't move himself.

Malfoy laughed, gesturing for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. 'Watch your back, Potter.' The other Slytherins began to disperse, seeing that nothing was going to happen with teachers around.

'He's wrong,' Harry said, turning back to Ron and Hermione as Professor Flitwick passed them by.

''Course he's wrong. We know you're not weak,' Ron replied.

'And we know your difficulties will only be temporary,' Hermione added.

'No. He's wrong about Snape.'

'I– well, I don't think he actually knows anything,' Hermione finally managed after a lengthy pause. Ron looked like he was physically stopping himself from saying anything by clamping his lips shut and staring down at his shoes.

Harry made a noise of frustration and heaved the door open, striding ahead of Ron and Hermione towards the Great Hall for dinner.

'Did you hear? Snape's taken hundreds of points. I've got a friend in Hufflepuff, and she said he took sixty points just in her lesson,' one girl said to another as Harry passed by a group of older Gryffindors on the stairs. He stopped short, his stomach sinking.

'Points and detention if you even breathe wrong,' a Ravenclaw boy was complaining at the bottom of the grand staircase. He shot Harry an irritated look as though it were his fault. Hermione and Ron caught up with him, looking a lot like they’d heard something similar. Ron was doing his best not to catch Harry’s eye at all and was making an intense study of his fingernails.

'Shall we look at the hourglasses?' Hermione suggested quietly. When they headed down to the entrance hall, there was a crowd of complaining students milling around.

'They're all empty,' Harry said. It was the start of term, so the hourglasses were never going to have that much in them, but this was just weird.

'I heard someone swear he's taken them from Slytherin,' Dean said appearing suddenly beside them.

'Snape? As if,' Ron scoffed.

'They are all empty, Ron. It looks like any points anyone won today have been taken away already,' Hermione replied, sending a worried glance Harry’s way.

What the hell was Snape playing at? Why was he trying to be an even bigger git than usual?

Harry tossed his bag onto the couch but resisted the urge to throw himself down beside it. The first day back always seemed long but he’d never felt so drained. He carried on into the kitchen hearing cupboards being opened and closed, figuring that Snape was probably making something to drink in the kitchen. Caught somewhere between irritation and curiosity, he sat himself down at the kitchen table and watched Snape make a cup of tea. 

'I thought we were supposed to be acting normal. Everyone's talking about you; they're all saying you're taking points from anyone the second they open their mouths.'

Snape paused mid-action, stopping the flow of boiling water from the tip of his wand and into his cup, to give Harry a hard glare. 'I didn't invite anyone to open their mouths in my classroom.'

'People thought you were evil before and they think you're worse now.'

'I haven't asked for your opinion on how I should control my classes.'

Harry heaved a huge sigh and kicked out half-heartedly at the table leg. 'Yeah, well, that's just great, isn't it? Everyone finds out that you're applying to adopt me and then you decide to be an even bigger–'

Snape's cup hit the kitchen counter with a thud and Harry clamped his jaw shut. Snape eyes narrowed with anger. 'I have ten students cleaning cauldrons in detention tomorrow evening. Would you like to be the eleventh?'

'No.'

'How were your classes?' Snape asked, changing the subject.

'Fine.'

Snape raised his eyebrows as if he found that hard to believe. 'You had no problem casting spells?'

'Not much,' he shrugged, picking at the edge of the table. 'They were only the first lessons of the year; it was mostly theory,' he lied.

'And your friends?'

'Think I'm mental. You're doing the opposite of helping,' Harry complained.

'I will not be the subject of gossip or ridicule from students. I will have silence in my classroom when I ask for it.'

Harry got to his feet and wandered over to the sink, beside Snape. 'To be honest, I thought you might actually have lost it. Someone said you were taking points from Slytherin too and I didn't believe them, but then I saw you didn't have any points either.'

'Have you had any difficulties with the rest of the students?' Snape asked, drinking his tea and refusing to take the bait.

'Nothing major,' Harry shrugged, standing on tiptoes to grab a glass from the cabinet.

'I'd like to be the judge of that,' Snape replied, shifting out of the way so that Harry could open the cupboard fully.

'I'm not going to tell you every little thing. Not that anyone's got any points left for you to take.'

'Believe it or not, Harry, there are students at this school who pose a threat to you.'

'If any of them try to kill me then I'll let you know,' Harry replied sarcastically, his irritation with Snape winning out over his sense of self-preservation.

'Don't you dare,’ Snape hissed, obviously hitting his limit. ‘You think it's amusing, do you?'

'No,' he muttered. 'I've got potions with you tomorrow. You're not going to go mad if I chop something up wrong, are you?' Harry asked, not sure whether he was still trying to pick a fight or if he really wanted to know.

'You won't be touching the knife,’ Snape replied. ‘Stir, read the book, skin something, add ingredients but don't start dicing or chopping, for Merlin's sake.'

Snape retreated to his study, just like he’d started to do every night for hours on end, and Harry sat up alone for another couple of hours before heading to bed himself, more worried about tomorrow’s lesson than he cared to admit.

S.S.

A knock came from the other side of his office door. ‘Enter,’ he called out, regretting it the moment the door swung open.

'Headmaster,' he said by way of greeting. There was nothing inviting about his tone though. The calmness in the headmaster’s expression and the fact that he didn’t take offence only served to make him angrier. He wanted to make him feel a fraction of the fury he felt when he was told that his son had to die.

'Severus,’ Albus said, taking a seat on the other side of his desk and popping a sweet into his mouth. ‘You neglected to come to my office yesterday evening; I thought perhaps today would be a better time for our meeting.'

'We have nothing to discuss that couldn't be said in a staff meeting,' Severus replied dismissively.

'You cannot work at this school and continue to avoid me. Furthermore, you cannot be a member of the Order and persist with this.'

'I will discuss my work if I must, but I will not be forced to make small talk with a man who was deliberately manipulating my son to get himself killed behind my back.'

'I was preparing him for what will come. Voldemort believes the prophecy and Harry will meet him again,' Albus said.

'This is not a matter of preparing him for battle. You've been preparing him to sacrifice himself. You hadn't even considered how to save him.' Severus had begun to raise his voice without realising it.

'The prophecy does not explicitly state that he would have to die,' the headmaster replied softly.

'From what you know about the horcruxes, it's what you believe. With the information we have, it's the only way to kill the Dark Lord.'

Albus had the grace to look sad, but whether that was from shame or just a reaction to Severus’ attitude, he couldn’t be certain. 'In hindsight, the way I handled this was a mistake. The prophecy, the knowledge of the horcruxes... they have been a burden of mine alone for too long and perhaps I should not have kept it that way. Have you told Harry?'

‘Of course not. He was tortured not weeks ago, he has nightmares, he has to adjust to his condition and to the Dark Lord's return. Not to mention the adoption... I would hardly tell him that he has a portion of the Dark Lord's soul in his scar without first coming up with some way to remove it.'

The headmaster stood and made his way to the door. He paused, his hand resting on the handle, and looked back across the room. Severus knew what he was about to say from the pained look on his face. ‘There may not be any way to rid him of it. I have had years to think, and I haven't been able to determine any way to be certain of the outcome.'

'There will be a way,' Severus replied, his tone final.

S.S.

Severus stared at the layer of books that covered the surface of his desk and ignored the throbbing in his temple that told him he was overwhelmed and utterly out of his depth. There was no research on this, nothing about live subjects carrying horcruxes because it was a damn stupid idea to use a human as your soul’s container if you wanted to be immortal. Then there was the fact that he had managed to get only two books containing information on horcruxes. They were so dark that they focused on their making rather than their destruction. Reading books so heavily imbued with dark magic was putting him in a foul mood, then there was the constant underlying panic that the headmaster might be right, there might be nothing to tell him how to save his son.

Severus glanced at the carriage clock on the bookcase opposite his desk. It was well past midnight, so he could say to himself with a certain amount of dread that his preliminary adoption interview was that same day.

The Prophet had highlighted every reason that he shouldn’t be allowed near Harry, let alone become his parent. The ministry would be foolish to ignore everything that was written in that rag, but where that would that leave his application? He had in his favour the fact that Harry wanted to be adopted by him, the headmaster’s supposed support and his position as potion master at the school. None of those qualified him to be a parent. That he could protect Harry best from the Dark Lord wouldn’t even be factored into their decision with the Ministry’s refusal to believe he had returned.

Severus put down his quill as the screaming erupted. He hurried to Harry’s room, making far better time than he usually did. With a quick wave of his wand the lights were on, and he grabbed Harry firmly just below his shoulders to stop him thrashing.

'It's a dream. You are home. He cannot hurt you.' He repeated the same words, words Harry had no doubt become incredibly familiar with, as he blinked himself awake, his breathing harsh and ragged. Almost every night the child went without dreamless sleep, he woke up screaming; the nights he didn’t Severus was certain the child was reliving the elf’s death.

'I can feel it. It hurts,' Harry gasped, still partially trapped in his nightmare. He’d thrashed so hard he’d kicked his duvet off the end of his bed, and he was drenched with sweat.

'It's in your mind. The pain is a memory.' He made a deliberate effort to keep his voice calm and less than a minute later, Harry’s breathing evened out, and he shrugged off Severus' grip. His offer of a freshening charm was accepted with a jerky nod.

Harry made a grab for his duvet before Severus had a chance to lay it back over him. 'When do the nightmares stop?' he asked, knotting his hands beneath his covers to hide their shaking.

'In time. You'll train tomorrow evening. You might be less likely to have nightmares if you're physically exhausted.' A full night’s sleep would most likely do him a world of good. They came too few and far between and the longer the nightmares continued the more Harry was inclined to pretend he wasn’t affected by them.

'I shouldn't still be having them. It's been weeks now.'

'Yes, you should be completely unaffected by kidnapping and torture by now.'

'I've been through stuff before... getting the stone, the basilisk, all the dementors. I was younger then too.'

Severus sighed as he trailed his finger over the books on the shelf above Harry’s desk. He picked out one he hadn’t seen him read. 'It is normal,’ he said as he offered him the book. ‘It is what we were told to expect.'

Harry took it, but tossed it onto his bedside table, flopping back down onto his pillow. 'Yeah, based on other people. Not me.'

'Contrary to what you've been led to believe, you aren't special,’ Severus remarked acerbically. ‘Sit up and read; you have to be able to occlude before you go back to sleep.'

Harry heaved a put-upon sigh and sat up. He flicked absently through the book, flipping it over to read the blurb. ‘You know, I was thinking that if I take the dreamless sleep on Fridays and Saturdays then I could spend the whole weekend in the tower.'

'No.'

'Why not?' His petulant tone set Severus’ teeth on edge.

'I know very well that you're a teenager and that I'm saying you can't have your way, but I will not listen to you ask stupid questions that you already know the answer to.'

Harry chose not to take the hint. 'I want to spend more time in the tower, and I want my friends to be all right with you adopting me. If you let me have weekends in the tower it'll help.'

'No,' Severus repeated.

'You'd rather I was in the tower than have Ron sleep over here.'

'Your presence in the tower is not required for the parts of the day when you should all be unconscious, so there is nothing to gain from you being there. Your priority should be being well rested in order to succeed in your lessons; that is why you take dreamless sleep during the week.'

'Why can't my friends sleep over? You're always working anyway, so what does it matter if they're here or not?'

'I have said no. My answer will not change no matter how much you continue to whine, but I have no intention of listening to it. I have work to do,' Severus replied, itching to return to his desk, sure that he was considering this problem from the wrong angle. There had to be a way that a live container was different to the others that meant the horcrux could be safely removed.

H.P.

‘So, this should be fun,’ Ron joked as they queued up in the dungeons for their first potions class since the article in the Prophet. Neville was so nervous he’d gone pale and hadn’t eaten anything all morning. Harry had thought about saying something consoling, but if Snape’s new tactic was to terrify everyone into behaving in his classroom, then Neville was right to be worried.

They’d already agreed that Harry was going to pair up with Hermione if they were brewing. That way there was minimal chance of Snape being able to complain about the state of it. Ron said he was going to pair with Neville, but he whispered to Harry as they left the hall that it was only because Snape was more likely to lay into Neville if he really lost it.

When the dungeon door opened, everyone in the corridor fell silent. Word had spread of Snape’s new point taking and detention policy and no one wanted to be the one in an all-night detention with Filch. Malfoy and the Slytherins, on the other hand, looked surly more than anything else. It seemed Slytherin couldn’t decide what was worse, adopting Harry or dropping the favouritism.

Snape didn’t speak until the whole class stood behind their desks. ‘Instructions are on the board. Ingredients are in the store cupboard. You will need the full hour. Go.’

The students rushed to set up their equipment as if they were worried it was part of the scoring system.

‘I’m going to grab the ingredients while you set up,’ Harry whispered, hesitant to disturb the quiet that had yet to turn into the normal hum of voices that came with group work.

The store cupboard was cramped with students shoving past each other and grabbing the same ingredients. Twice, the jar of salamander tails was yanked out of Harry’s grasp, and he winced as someone stamped on his foot, hard. When the shelves rattled ominously beside him, he was quick to thrust out a hand to steady them, but not quick enough to stop a jar of murtlap tentacles from tipping and spilling over his robes.

‘I’ve got yours,’ Ron muttered, gesturing at the ingredients he was carrying as Harry flicked tentacles off his neck. Harry nodded gratefully and they shouldered their way out of the cupboard.

Ron dumped the ingredients onto their desks before heading back to his own cauldron and Harry sorted through them while Hermione read through the instructions. ‘You think someone’s curious to see how he acts with me?’ he asked.

‘I think most of the room are, really.’ Hermione waved her wand and the front of his robes dried, but the sharp smell of pickled tentacles lingered. She passed over the pestle and mortar. ‘You can grind the doxy wings while I slice the salamander tails.’

Snape seemed content to stalk up and down the room, sneering at each pair’s potion as he passed by. He started on the furthest side of the room and Harry kept a wary eye on his progress, determined not to be surprised by him. He wasn’t sure what Snape’s plan was, but Harry wasn’t going to give the Slytherins anything to be smug about or the Gryffindors anything to gloat about.

‘For goodness’ sake,’ Hermione exclaimed as something splashed into their cauldron. Before Harry could say anything, Snape’s voice rang out across the dungeon.

‘Mr Malfoy, where is your potion?’

‘Here, sir,’ he replied in a tone that was bordering on insolent, but a slight smirk still played about his lips.

Harry recognised the look on Snape’s face all too well and he doubted that Malfoy was going to like what was coming. ‘Not this cauldron?’ he asked, coming to a stop beside Harry and Hermione’s desks. Everyone in the room had stopped working to watch Snape and Malfoy.

‘No, sir.’ The smirk had disappeared now.

‘Miss Granger, swap cauldrons with Mr Malfoy.’

‘I’m not working with their potion,’ he replied, outraged.

‘You added ingredients to this cauldron so you will be marked on this potion. Dear me,’ Snape drawled in feigned concern. ‘It would appear you added the toad’s eyes far too early, I do hope you’ll be able to correct it in the time you have left.’

‘When my father hears about this–’ Malfoy started to mumble under his breath, but Snape didn’t even let him finish his sentence, looming over the blonde Slytherin as he interrupted him with an icy hiss.

‘Your father will doubtless be disappointed to hear you’ve marred your record with a fail so early in the term. Do not presume to issue threats in my classroom. You will find that I can make your life at this school very difficult. I am your head of house, unless you were planning to request to change? From your behaviour today, Ravenclaw would not suit you.’

‘No, sir,’ Malfoy replied, his pale cheeks now a blazing red.

Harry tried to control the grin that was threatening to spread over his face, even as Ron flashed him a quick thumbs up from the desk in front. He’d never liked watching Snape pick on the students but there was something so satisfying seeing him finally take Malfoy down a peg or two. The Gryffindors around him all exchanged gleeful looks, but the Slytherins looked furious. It was one thing to take points and issue detentions, but humiliating one of them was something else entirely.

Malfoy wasn’t far off Hermione’s standard when it came to potions, so they were barely set back by the swap. Snape had merely nodded when Hermione put the vial on his desk at the end of class. Malfoy’s vial, on the other hand, hadn’t been much better than sludge. ‘Dreadful,’ Snape had declared, and Malfoy had stalked back to his desk, trembling with barely suppressed fury.

‘It’s like being in some weird alternate reality,’ Ron said as they made their way out of the dungeons. ‘It was bloody good to see that look on Malfoy’s face. I’m going to treasure that memory.’

An abrupt ripping sound came from just over Harry’s shoulder and his rucksack became weightless as books tumbled onto the floor. His inkpot smashed, covering his shoes and the dungeon floor in a pool of spilled ink, coating his quills and books.

‘Oh, Harry,’ Hermione exclaimed in dismay at the state of his textbooks.

He swore and pulled out his wand as the Slytherins cackled with laughter, kicking aside his books as they passed. ‘Reparo.’ Harry jabbed his wand angrily at his bag, growling in frustration when his spell failed to take.

‘Not even a wizard anymore, are you Potter?’ Malfoy loitered at the end of the hall, his face still pink with anger. ‘Do you think those muggles will have you back now?’

‘Shove off, Malfoy,’ Ron spat.

Harry raised his wand again. ‘Expelliarmus!’ Malfoy’s mouth dropped open as his wand spun from his grasp. The spell came easily from hours of training with Snape. ‘You want to see what other spells I can do?’ he challenged as the blond boy scurried to scoop up his fallen wand.

‘Mr Potter,’ a cold voice rang out from the potions classroom behind him. Beside him, Ron swore under his breath. Malfoy took the opportunity to bolt, disappearing up the stairs to the entrance hall.

Harry took three deep breaths before he turned to face his dad. His black eyes were narrowed in anger as he crooked an imperious finger to summon Harry back inside. ‘Weasley, Granger,’ he barked. ‘Clear that mess up.’

‘He started it,’ Harry blurted as soon as the door shut. Snape’s only response was to cross his arms as he stared, his lips thinning in anger. ‘You never let people get away with hexing you when you were my age.’ The words were out before he could call them back, but it was true.

‘You think to use a Death Eater in training as a role model, do you? And what would you have done to Draco if I didn’t step in? Another brawl or would you have practiced your spell work on him?’ He didn’t let Harry answer, stepping close to snarl. ‘I have an interview with the adoption agency today. This is the behaviour you want them to see while you’re in my care? That mere feet from my classroom door, instead of asking for my help, you start a fight?’

Harry was about to repeat that he didn’t start it, but he clamped his lips shut. His stomach churned guiltily at the thought of heaping more stress on Snape when he was wound up about the interview. ‘I can’t just let them attack me. They’ll think I’m weak.’

‘A teenager who single-handedly faced down the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?’ Snape replied scornfully. ‘You have nothing to prove. You know very well that you have permission to defend yourself, but a ripped backpack doesn’t require self-defence.’

‘I disarmed him; I didn’t hex him.’

‘Which is why we’re having a conversation and you’re not getting detention. Let me handle the Slytherins. I intend to make clear the world of trouble they will be in if they harm my son.’

Harry chanced a slight smile, the tension receding from his shoulders now that Snape wasn’t going to punish him. ‘That was alright, seeing you have a go at Malfoy for a change.’

Snape rolled his eyes and waved his wand to open the door where Ron and Hermione were waiting with his repaired bag. He bit his lip, wanting to ask about the interview but not knowing what to say. Was Snape prepared? What if the article had ruined everything and the agency has changed its mind about considering their application? What if it didn’t go well?

‘Um, so I’ll see you after the interview, then?’

Snape inclined his head. ‘Lupin will train with you after dinner tonight in my stead. Until then, behave,’ he said, stressing the final word.

S.S.

Class with Harry hadn’t gone quite as badly as he’d imagined, but the tension in his own house was proving to be far more acute in the fourth-year classes. Hexes and sabotaging volatile potions wouldn’t continue in his classroom. And then there was the question of how to control Draco. If the boy wanted to test the extent of Severus’ powers as his head of house, then so be it.

He cast a stasis spell on the cauldron at the sound of a knock on his lab door. Could dinner have already finished? He’d been too absorbed in his work to feel pangs of hunger as afternoon turned to evening.

‘You don’t look well, Severus,’ Lupin commented, waving away a haze of purple fumes.

‘I didn’t request a commentary on my appearance. I have an interview to attend.’

‘I wanted to speak with you before Harry gets back.’ Lupin took a breath to steel himself and Severus narrowed his eyes. He had a good idea where this was going and he didn’t want to hear it. He had an adoption process to deal with, a traumatised adolescent to care for, unruly classes five days a week and a cure for being a human horcrux to invent. He didn’t have time for this. ‘Have you spoken to him about Sirius?’

‘No and I have no intention of doing so.’

Lupin continued despite the glare Severus directed his way. He had that irritating look on his face that appeared whenever the wolf was going to start offering parenting advice that Severus neither wanted nor needed. ‘You care about Harry, so it’s in your interest that this is resolved. It does him no good to have this argument hanging over him. He should have a relationship with his godfather.’

Severus’ lip curled automatically into a sneer. He fully supported Harry’s decision not to see his godfather and not just because he despised the man. Harry didn’t need another source of stress and his godfather had proven to be nothing but. ‘Black has had ample opportunity to have a relationship with Harry. He has disappointed my son time and time again and I will not pressure Harry when he already has a significant amount of stress to deal with. If Black wants to see him then he can prove to me that he is mature enough.’

‘If Harry asks to see him?’ Lupin pressed.

‘Then I’ll discuss it with him, not you and not Black,’ Severus replied, effectively ending the conversation. He heard the portrait hole open and the usual sounds of Harry tossing his bag down and kicking off his shoes, and gestured for Lupin to go ahead.

‘Good luck,’ Lupin said. He reached out to lay a hand on Severus’ shoulder, but at a sharp look the wolf retracted his hand before it made contact. He cleared his throat. ‘A calming potion might be a good idea. You don’t make the best first impression when you’re tense.’

Severus’ head pounded, the edge taken off with a headache potion that could do little to cure tension compounded by a poor night’s sleep. The ministry official conducting his preliminary interview turned out to be a stern-faced woman of around fifty who had taken his seat in his own office, forcing him to sit on the student’s side like an adolescent who’d been caught misbehaving. He half expected the woman to place Monday morning’s copy of the Prophet between them and demand an explanation.

She wore her greying hair in a bob and her half-moon spectacles were of a similar sort to those of the headmaster. He imagined she had them simply so that she could look disapprovingly over the top of them. She shook his hand formally, introducing herself as Heather Parfitt. Thankfully, he didn’t recognise the surname. It would have done him no favours if he’d managed to fail a child of the ministry official carrying out his adoption interview.

He had no intention of appearing as though he were anxious. He sat waiting, his face showing nothing but polite interest as he endeavoured to appear as though he wasn’t in the slightest bit impatient for this interview to begin.

Ms Parfitt, tapped her quill with her wand and it sprang to life, poised over the page. It would seem that she intended to take a word-perfect transcript of his answers. ‘This is your first interview with the adoption services and, as such, we will only be discussing those aspects of your application that we consider the most pressing. This is to avoid drawing out the process, causing distress for you and the child in question should your answers to these questions be insufficient. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’ The enchanted quill scratched out a large tick.

‘Professor Snape, I have here a transcript of a conversation you had with ministry officials regarding your feelings towards Harry Potter.’ She pushed the parchment towards him. It was hardly a transcript; the aurors had taken notes not word-for-word records of his conversation with them. Pointing that fact out may not put him in the best light and he controlled his urge to correct her. ‘Can you explain to me how in a matter of weeks you have gone from a position of “It is not a crime to dislike Harry Potter” to applying to adopt him.’

‘As I explained in my application, I had assumed temporary guardianship of Harry at that point with the permission of his legal guardians. The headmaster and I were concerned that Harry’s being entered into the Triwizard tournament amounted to a threat to his life. We agreed that it would be safer for Harry if it was not general knowledge that he was living with me.’

‘Putting aside that he was under your care at the time, did you dislike Harry Potter?’ she pressed.

‘No.’

‘Yet you knew that it put you under suspicion to be dishonest?’

Severus bit back a less than polite retort, having to take a moment to consider a more acceptable way of phrasing his response. Obviously, he would have to be dishonest in order to protect Harry in that circumstance, he had just said as much. ‘I have been honest about my past. I was a Death Eater before I became a spy for the headmaster. I was prepared to do that once more, if the Dark Lord were to return. That has meant that I have had a certain reputation to maintain, one that didn’t permit me to be seen to have anything but a negative relationship with Harry.’

‘Harry is aware of your past affiliation?’ she questioned, and her raised eyebrows conveyed more than enough criticism to strike a nerve.

‘Yes.’

‘You do not think this will pose any additional difficulties what with his recent traumatic experience?’

He paused, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Where was she going with this line of questioning? Harry was hardly frightened of him. ‘I helped to save him. I brought him back from that graveyard.’

‘However, Harry has seemed disturbed. He claims that You-Know-Who was responsible for his kidnapping.’

‘He was tortured for an extended period. The man who took him claimed to have been working for the Dark Lord. Whatever your or the ministry’s position on the matter, there is more than adequate reason for him to believe the Dark Lord was involved.’

‘You say you do not dislike Harry Potter now. Was that always the case? Do you claim that you were neutral towards him when he entered this school?’

‘My behaviour would show otherwise. Harry understands that I had a reputation to maintain,’ Severus answered, twisting the truth slightly. He would not have it on parchment in this interview that he despised the child.

Ms Parfitt cleared her throat, scanning through the parchment at a leisurely pace. ‘Financially, I see that you have no problems taking care of a child, but obviously Harry has his own inheritance…’

‘Which he will have no need of until he is of age,’ he responded immediately.

‘You are aware that as part of the follow-up process, we will be ensuring that the child’s finances aren’t abused.’

Severus’ eyes narrowed at the implied accusation. ‘He will retain access to it in case of emergency, but he will receive an allowance and a new account to do with as he wishes. Anything else he needs, as we’ve ascertained, I’m financially capable of providing.’ She nodded again, her expression entirely neutral, so much that it was impossible to tell if she approved of his answer.

She shuffled through her parchments again. ‘According to the information we have here, Harry is fourteen. That leaves three years until he is of age. What has motivated you to make this decision now?’

‘I wasn’t aware that he needed an alternative guardian until last summer. His aunt and uncle were unsuitable and, after having him in my care, I considered that I could provide him with what he needs.’

‘And that would be?’

‘Stability, protection, discipline and the basics that he was lacking with his relatives.’

‘Such as?’

‘Adequate food and clothing.’

‘Teenagers, Professor Snape, are very rarely placed when they are under the care of the ministry. The vast majority of children who have not been adopted by Harry’s age will not be. How prepared are you to take full responsibility for a teenager and one who, despite all the good things on his school record, has displayed some challenging behaviour?’

Severus raised an eyebrow at the fact that this witch would patronise him. ‘I have been a teacher for over a decade. I am more than familiar with the challenges teenagers present.’

‘And you have a reputation for being… strict. The word “intimidating” has been used.’

‘I assure you, Harry does not find me in the least intimidating. I have slightly more relaxed standards where Harry is concerned. In the classroom I am in charge of twenty unruly teenagers and ten unstable potions; that isn’t the case at home.’

‘If Harry challenges your authority, how would you handle that situation?’

‘It would depend on his transgression. If he misbehaves in a way that puts himself in danger, I’d most likely ground him and set him in an essay. Otherwise, chores or lines would suffice.’

‘I think we have a good deal to consider here, so I suggest we end the interview at this point. If we have satisfactory interviews with your colleagues and your employer, then we will have a more in-depth discussion to ascertain your suitability pending successful completion of the Ministry’s parenting course.’ She handed him a leaflet with a couple waving happily on the cover. ‘It’s a requirement for all potential adoptive parents,’ she explained as Severus eyed the parchment dubiously.

‘And Harry?’

‘Harry’s interview will be last. Children can find these interviews stressful and if anything comes up from the other interviews that shows you aren’t suitable, it would be better for Harry not to have participated in the process.’

Severus clamped his lips together, hiding the stab of fear in his chest at the thought of his application failing. Would the headmaster permit Harry to live with him in his quarters when he’d been so combative? Or would he decide that Harry was better off without Severus’ influence, the better to mould the child into the sacrificial lamb Albus originally had in mind?

H.P.

Harry filled a glass with water and then put it down suddenly, not trusting himself not to spill the liquid or drop the glass without a spell. Snape had made him research spells that would help with his nerve damage. He’d said some stuff about him needing to be proactive or something, but he’d probably just been trying to distract him from thinking about the attack and Dobby’s death. As if looking up a few spells would do all that much to distract him from the guilt.

'Ineffundo.' The spell was supposed to stop the liquid spilling when he wasn’t drinking out of the glass, but it didn't look as though it had worked. It was used for toddlers and small children mostly, which was more irritating than the complicated wand movement. Harry frowned, shaking his arm out as if it would make a difference. 'Ineffundo,' he said again with more force, but his wand hand twitched as he incanted. 'Sir, could you...?' he gestured vaguely at the glass.

Snape looked up from his marking, red ink scrawled across the unfortunate student’s essay in his spidery script. 'No.'

'Seriously? I just want a drink.'

'Then cast the spell,' Snape challenged.

'I can't.' He stabbed his wand at the glass, almost close enough to knock it over. 'INEFFUNDO. See?'

'You're getting frustrated that your spell hasn't worked the first time. You do the same thing when you try to heal yourself. If you don't concentrate, then you are just an idiot shouting nonsense and waving a stick.'

'So, I'm an idiot?'

Snape put his quill down and for a second Harry thought that he was going to relent. No chance of that though. 'Put your wand down and breathe. Think about the spell, how to say the incantation, the wand movement. Pick your wand up, relax your shoulders and wait for the right time.'

He knew what Snape was doing. Put your wand down, calm down and then try again. It wasn't going to change anything. He wasn't just going to be able to do it because he'd taken a couple of deep breaths. 'It didn't work.'

'Then try it again,' Snape replied without sympathy.

Harry let out a growl of frustration, thoroughly tempted to throw his stupid, useless wand across the room. Before he could do anything Snape swiftly got to his feet and raised his arm, his wand millimetres from Harry's neck. Instincts taking over, Harry ducked away, raising his own wand, and backed away around the table.

Snape pursued him, closing the distance between them. 'You've just told me you can't use your wand. If it's useless to you, put it down.'

'Protego.' Harry's shield hovered in the air between them for a moment. 'I didn't say I couldn't do magic. I said I couldn't do that spell. The wand movement's different.'

Snape crossed his arms, his gaze assessing. 'I've seen you do that spell and you've been getting better, not worse.'

'I can't do all the spells, all right?’ he erupted, annoyed at everything, at the rubbish day he’d just had, at the Prophet, at his friends and at Snape for being exactly the git they thought he was. ‘Quit acting like I just need to try a bit harder or concentrate more. Sometimes I just can't do them.'

'You cannot cast the spell because you're frustrated, not because you are incapable. The only thing stopping you from doing magic in this moment is you,' Snape growled, making what looked like an enormous effort not to give in to his own temper.

'Well, I'm more frustrated now, aren't I? It's not bad enough that I can't do the spell myself, now you're having a go at me about it too.'

'If your emotions are the problem, then control them.' Harry just stared and Snape sighed like he was the one being annoying. 'Occlude.'

Harry let out an 'oh' of understanding. He couldn't have just said that from the start, could he?

'Ineffundo.' The spell didn't take and Harry cast Snape a look that plainly said See? All the same, he was surprised when Snape cast the spell for him and handed him the glass.

'Try to control your emotions the first time you fail, otherwise there is no point in trying again.'

S.S.

Severus put down his quill and sat back in the kitchen chair, his back creaking unpleasantly at the change in position. With a flick of his wand, he banished the stack of marked essays to his office. Setting essays was effective at keeping misbehaving students occupied, but the more he set the less time he had to work on the horcrux removal potion. Between the adoption process, his responsibilities as head of house, Order meetings and training Harry, he simply didn’t have enough time. How long would they have before the Dark Lord tried to kill Harry again? The potion absolutely had to be ready, but he was no closer to a solution than when he started.

Severus rose from the table, surprised as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He nudged open the door to Harry’s room on his way to bed, only to find the child sitting bolt upright, breathing deeply.

‘Not the usual nightmare?’ he asked, unsure whether Harry was managing to wake himself sooner or if he simply hadn’t visited the graveyard this time. Every scream reminded Severus of that night. It was bad enough he’d been tortured; he shouldn’t have to relive the experience in his dreams.

He shook his head. ‘You don’t have to check on me. If I’m not screaming the place down, you might as well get some sleep.’ 

‘I was passing by.’

Harry frowned. ‘It’s pretty late to still be working. Isn’t it like two in the morning?’ He’d hazarded a fairly accurate guess, but Severus wasn’t in the mood to discuss his working habits.

‘I have a lot to do.’ He pulled out Harry’s desk chair and took a seat beside his bed. ‘I didn’t speak to you this evening. How was school?’

‘Fine. Same as,’ Harry said shortly before relenting slightly. ‘No one thinks Voldemort is back, other than the Slytherins with Death Eater parents, and people think I’m insane because I got tortured and I want to be adopted by you.’

‘And the Slytherins? Am I going to hear that you’ve decided to fight five of them singlehandedly again?’

‘No, I’ll check there’s no more than three next time,’ he smarted back. ‘They’re pretty mad at you too and Voldemort must have it in for you now. What if they try something?’ he asked before Severus could chastise him for the sarcasm. He looked down at his duvet as he spoke, picking at a loose thread.

‘Having the power to expel students has its benefits.’

‘If something did happen to you,’ Harry began, still picking at his covers, ‘it would be my fault, like what happened to Dobby.’

‘The elf’s death was not your fault. Dobby wasn’t stupid or incapable of making decisions; the headmaster asked him to protect you and he agreed to it. He knew it would put him in danger.’

‘There’s agreeing to do something dangerous and then there’s getting killed for no reason.’

‘Allow other people the luxury of bearing the consequences for the risks they are willing to take. I can no longer spy for the Order, but I can protect you. If, during the next war, I die doing just that then it will not be your fault. I was never forced to take you in.’

‘Yeah, but if I didn’t exist–’

‘Who would have stopped the Dark Lord the first time? Harry, you can miss him and you can mourn him, but you can’t bear the burden of guilt for his death.’

‘I called for him.’

Severus leant forward. ‘If Crouch had taken it into his head to kill Weasley and you hadn’t called for the elf you would have known you’d deliberately ignored help that was offered to you. I know everything you have been through weighs heavily on you and I know that nothing these past few weeks has been close to easy, but I do not like seeing you become progressively more unhappy.’

Harry bit his lip. ‘I need my friends too and I really need them to be okay with the adoption.’

Severus sighed, a long harsh sound. He allowed Harry to stay in the Tower as often as the dreamless sleep allowed but there were still too many nights that Harry was left alone. His intention was never to isolate his son from his friends, even if he did find Gryffindors objectionable. ‘If you behave yourself, both of you, then Weasley may sleep over.’

‘Yes!’ The broad grin spread across his son’s face almost made it worth having Weasley invade his quarters.

He held up a finger. ‘One time, Harry. And if either of you cause trouble–’

‘We won’t. Best behaviour,’ Harry promised, still beaming.

H.P.

The staring and the whispering hardly bothered him as he crossed the Great Hall that morning. Snape had given in! Ron was going to stay over and then he’d finally see that Harry was happy and the adoption was a good thing. First, he’d convince Ron, then everyone else would realise it too.

He threw himself down beside Hermione and loaded up his plate with bacon and eggs. He skipped over the beans. He didn’t need all of Gryffindor seeing him make a mess when he couldn’t hold his fork steady.

‘Doesn’t seem like Snape’s thrilled about the whole adoption thing, if you ask me,’ Dean muttered as he stuffed his bag a touch too aggressively under the dining hall table. ‘He just docked me five points on my way to the table.’

‘What did you do?’ Harry asked, craning around to look at Snape on the teacher’s table. How had Snape had time to dock points in the amount of time it took to cross the room? Snape saw his look of consternation and met it with an impassive look of his own as he drank his tea.

‘What did I do?’ Dean repeated, outraged. ‘You want your head checking, Harry. You’ve lost it.’

‘Shut up,’ Harry snapped, his face flushing with anger.

‘Oi, it’s not Harry’s fault if Snape’s a git,’ Ron interjected, accidentally flicking tomato sauce at Dean as he jabbed his fork towards him.

Snape’s constant foul mood was putting everyone on edge. People were beginning to claw back some house points but only because they had learnt to stay completely silent in potions. Now you weren’t even safe outside of class. It was as though he suddenly hated every student at the school as much as he once hated Harry, taking a savage pleasure in assigning detentions and docking points.

‘Charms first,’ Hermione said in a falsely bright voice. ‘We can head up early if you like.’

Ron made a noise of complaint around a hash brown, but Harry was already picking up his bag. He wanted to grab a seat at the back of the class anyway. He didn’t need people commenting on his spell work as well as his choice of adoptive father.

‘You want me to tell Dean to shut his mouth?’ Ron asked as they left the Great Hall.

‘No,’ Harry replied shortly stuffing his hands in his pockets. They walked most of the way in silence. It had been happening more and more lately.

Hermione finally spoke as they waited outside the empty charms classroom. They were so early that not even Flitwick was there yet. ‘Is… Is everything all right at home with–with Professor Snape.’

‘He’s just stressed out about everything,’ Harry shrugged. He went home every night before curfew and he barely saw Snape either. He was usually brewing, and if he wasn’t doing that he was marking. The only time he really got to see Snape at all was when he woke Harry from his nightmares, and even then all that meant was that he was getting next to no sleep.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but is that what you want in a father? Someone who takes it out on everyone else when they get stressed?’

‘This has nothing to do with him being my dad,’ Harry replied.

‘I’m not saying it’s because of you,’ Hermione backtracked.

‘She’s just asking if you’re sure you want him to adopt you when he’s turned into an even bigger arsehole than he was before. You can still back out,’ Ron said.

‘You two don’t know him,’ Harry said, looking between his two friends. He needed them on his side if he was going to get through this. ‘I thought you were going to be decent about this.’

‘We are,’ Hermione replied quickly. She’d adopted the kind of tone you’d use with a skittish animal and it drove him mad. ‘We just want you to know that you can change your mind if you want. We’ll support you no matter what.’

‘I’m not backing out of anything, so just stop asking. Ron can see everything is alright for himself. Snape said you stay over tonight.’

‘Oh.’ Ron exchanged a quick look with Hermione. ‘Er, really? What about ‘Mione?’

Harry waved a hand dismissively. ‘I don’t think he’d go for that. If he realises this is all fine, then we can ask for next time.’

‘Are you…er, are you sure it’s a good idea?’

‘Yeah. Don’t you want to?’

‘It’s not you, mate,’ Ron replied quickly. ‘I’ve been wanting you to come back to the tower properly for weeks. It’s just… Snape’s quarters.’

‘We’ve been there before. You’ll be fine,’ Hermione interrupted with a significant look that Harry pretended not to notice. It didn’t matter why Ron agreed so long as he came over. Then at least he’d see what Snape was really like.

‘Yeah, alright then,’ Ron agreed apprehensively.

*

Ron was unusually tentative as they stepped through the portrait hole after dinner, as though Snape was going to leap out at them at any moment. Harry had assumed he’d be waiting for them too, just to warn them to behave at the very least.

‘So, where is he?’

‘In the lab, I think. Since Christmas he’s been working pretty late.’

‘What’s he working on?’ Ron asked, throwing his bag onto the couch and kicking off his shoes. He took in the room with new eyes, his gaze lingering on the photo of Harry and Snape beside the Christmas tree that sat on the mantle.

‘Something for the war, I guess. He hasn’t really spoken to me about it. Do you want to play?’ Harry asked, noticing Ron staring at Snape’s chess set.

‘Nah, it’s all right.’

‘He won’t mind. Honestly.’

Ron gave him a disbelieving look. ‘Mate, have you seen him in class? I don’t want detention for life for touching his chess set.’

‘This isn’t the worst chess set you’ve faced,’ Harry said, thinking of the giant chess set in their first year. He regretted bringing it up when he remembered how sure they’d been that it was Snape trying to steal the stone. ‘C’mon, Ron.’

‘Weasley, I assure you I won’t take offence if my son and his friend play with my chess set.’ Harry was surprised to see Snape emerge from the kitchen. He didn’t seem angry though; his tone was at worst impatient, as though he thought Ron were being tiresome. That was as close as Snape was going to get to being nice.

‘I didn’t know you were here,’ Harry said, feeling a bit stupid.

‘Obviously.’ Harry heard the unspoken criticism that he should have been more aware of his surroundings. ‘I expect you to go to bed at a decent hour without my having to tell you,’ Snape said looking between the two of them as though he doubted he should be leaving them unsupervised for the evening.

‘We will,’ Harry replied quickly, hoping Snape would leave it at that.

‘Weasley is aware of your nightmares?’ Snape continued and Harry wondered if he took a sadistic pleasure in embarrassing him.

‘I’ll tell him. It’ll be fine,’ he said keeping his voice low, feeling a flush rise in his cheeks. Snape looked as though he were holding back from rolling his eyes but relented and disappeared back to his lab.

‘What’s that about your nightmares?’ Ron asked as he set up the chess set.

‘I don’t know if I ever said, but I get pretty loud. I just need to be woken up sometimes,’ he replied casually without looking up from his pieces.

‘Sure, I can wake you up. I didn’t realise they were that bad.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s not every night. I might not have one at all.’ He moved his pawn two spaces forward, beginning the first move in a series of quick defeats that had Ron whooping in victory before they eventually called it a night.

*

He blinked in the darkness as he heard a quiet shuffling of parchment from next door. Ron was snoring softly, but he had been struggling to drop off for over an hour. A glass was set down gently either on the kitchen counter or the table and Harry carefully swung his legs out of bed and tip-toed past his friend.

He padded over to the kitchen and hovered in the doorway, folding his arms to ward off the chill. Pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an impending headache, Snape noticed him immediately. He paused mid-motion as he made to take a sip from a short glass tumbler filled with a small amount of amber liquid and tipped it suddenly down the sink.

Harry gave him an odd look. There was something guilty about the movement, as if Snape had been caught doing something he shouldn't. Harry was hardly a child; he didn't doubt that Snape drank, even if he'd only rarely seen him do it, and he certainly wasn't judging him.

'Never drink alone,' Snape said seriously in answer to his look. 'You're to bear that in mind for when you're eighteen because you won't be touching a drop even a second before.' He banished the glass and bottle with a scowl.

Harry nodded when it seemed as though Snape was waiting for a response and wandered over to the kitchen table where Snape had spread his books and parchments. With a casual wave of his wand Snape had the papers shuffle themselves into a pile and the books snapped shut.

'You cannot sleep?'

'No,' Harry shrugged, pulling out a chair. 'I'm occluding as well as I can before you ask. Are you nearly finished your potion?'

Snape's expression darkened considerably. 'No.'

'Oh.'

'If that burning question was all that was keeping you awake then I suggest you get back to bed. You get little enough sleep as it is.' Harry narrowed his eyes at the hypocrisy. Snape slept a hell of a lot less than he did.

'Didn't realise I was keeping you up,' he retorted.

'Obviously you are not. I suppose the reverse is true.'

'Not really,’ Harry shrugged, stretching his legs out beneath the kitchen table and leaning back in the chair. ‘I couldn't sleep and then I heard you out here so I thought I might as well come out.'

'Mr Weasley is asleep, I assume?' Snape asked, surprising Harry by drawing out a chair and taking a seat himself.

'Yeah.' Snape seemed profoundly relieved at that as if the idea of having a conscious Weasley in his quarters had put him on edge all day. Harry continued in a low voice, partly to avoid waking Ron up and partly because he didn’t know how Snape would take the criticism. 'He won't change his mind about this if you're never around when he is.'

'My concerns are not rooted in Weasley's faith in my intentions.' Snape dismissed.

‘Yeah,’ Harry agreed absently. ‘So, I was thinking about this whole adoption thing... What if it doesn’t happen?’

Snape frowned, studying Harry for a moment before answering. ‘We’ve discussed this. The headmaster will allow you to stay at Hogwarts during the summer.’

‘Yeah, I get that,’ he replied quickly. ‘I mean, it might not go through, and I’ve been calling you dad.’

Snape raked a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. Harry picked at the edge of the table, running his finger over the rough wood until Snape tapped a finger on the tabletop to get his attention, making sure that when Harry did eventually look at him, he maintained eye contact. ‘The Ministry will ultimately decide if I’m allowed to adopt you, but they are not deciding whether or not you can have a family. I told you before that I do not require their permission to consider you my son. The legality is so that I can better protect you, not because it will make us any more of a family.’

Harry nodded his head jerkily. Part of him had known Snape would say that; he remembered the man saying as much before now. The problem was, a larger part listened to everyone telling him that he could back out and that he wasn’t adopted yet, as though up until it was official it didn’t mean anything. That part of him had been whispering to him in the dark and quiet that maybe Snape thought that too. ‘You will simply have to trust my commitment if my application is unsuccessful,’ Snape commented when Harry didn’t immediately reply. ‘Until you reach seventeen, then there should be no issue with adopting you.’

‘I don’t want to wait until I’m grown up. It wouldn’t be fair if I could only be adopted when I didn’t need a parent anymore.’

‘You think in less than three years you won’t have any need of a parent? I imagine your friends Weasley and Granger will find their parents surplus to requirements then too?’

‘Well, no. But it’s not the same.’

‘That’s rather like saying that parenting a six-year-old is unlike parenting a fourteen-year-old. You’ll be legally able to make your own decisions, but I know from personal and professional experience that seventeen-year-olds are utter dolts.’

Harry continued picking at the edge of the table. Snape’s words sounded logical, but it didn’t help the heavy feeling in his chest. ‘I’d be out on my own by then though, wouldn’t I? Well, after Hogwarts.’

‘Possibly, but I find that highly unlikely. The war may not be over when you turn seventeen, in which case it would be best if you remain with me. If the war is over, you have no idea what you might want to do with your life. You hardly need to immediately find alternative accommodation.'

'You're going to want me to hang around when I'm finished Hogwarts?' Harry replied incredulously. It wasn't that he didn't get that Snape liked having him around a bit but even so, the man preferred his own company. Just because he'd offered to adopt him, it didn't mean that fact had changed.

‘Seventeen-year-olds, generally speaking, don't settle into their ideal job and leave home the very second they graduate from Hogwarts. You do have options, you realise? You might want to carry on in education, or travel or start an apprenticeship. Frankly, once you graduate, I’ll likely give up my job here. Teaching is hardly my calling.'

Harry thought about that for a moment. He’d always known that Snape didn’t like teenagers and that teaching wasn’t his ideal job, but he’d never put it together that he was doing it because of Harry and the war. ‘This is why I asked you to think about it,’ Snape continued. ‘The adoption doesn’t end when you turn seventeen.’

He knew all of that in a way, but only as it applied to other people. He knew Mr and Mrs Weasley weren’t going to kick Ron out the second he turned seventeen or even when he graduated. The numb feeling crept over him again and Harry vaguely recognised it as the beginnings of panic. It started any time he really thought about why Snape wanted to adopt him.

He vaguely heard Snape say his name, but it sounded far away. Long potion-stained fingers snapped under his nose.

‘Sorry.’ Harry shook his head, trying to come back to himself. ‘I’m, uh, more tired than I realised.’

‘Bed then,' he said shooing Harry out of the room, but as he made to stand he spoke again. 'I would rather you not make assumptions regarding the adoption. If anything is unclear or if you have doubts, speak to me.’

Harry nodded, but as he crept past a sleeping Ron, he thought that it was hard to ask Snape anything when he was always so busy.

H.P.

‘I hate mornings,' Harry muttered on his way to the kitchen. ‘Bathroom's yours.'

Ron chuckled as he flung his duvet aside. He didn't say anything about Harry having come back to bed in the middle of the night and he had to have woken Ron up when he walked right into his bed in the dark.

Snape was up already, making a particularly strong tea, but he didn't look too tired for a man who got by on less than five hours' sleep. ‘No nightmare last night,' he commented as Harry walked in.

‘No. Maybe it's because Ron stayed over.'

‘It might be because you barely slept at all.'

‘I've never really had nightmares before now. Not like I've been having lately. It could be because I used to go right back to sleeping in the Tower,' Harry replied, sitting at the table. His foot twitched as a tremor ran through it and he kicked the table leg in irritation.

Snape narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment at the gesture. ‘You think your nightmares have stage fright. They don't want to be heard by four other teenage boys.'

‘Maybe it's harder sleeping in a room alone. I've got more time to think about everything. In the Tower there's distractions.'

Snape didn't say anything for a long time. There was something like guilt and sadness his gaze and Harry had to look away. ‘I haven't meant to isolate you.'

‘I know. Last night was all right though, wasn't it?'

Snape sighed. ‘Yes, he can stay again and no, not more than once a week.'

Harry grinned. Might as well try to get as much as he could while Snape was in a mood to be convinced. ‘What about Hermione?'

‘No.'

‘Why not? She's not exactly a troublemaker.'

Snape paused a fraction, taking a long sip of tea. ‘It wouldn't be appropriate.'

‘What do you mean?' Snape just stared at him steadily until Harry worked it out on his own. His face felt like it was on fire. ‘It's not... I don't... It's Hermione,' he spluttered.

‘And I don't have another room for her.'

‘I'm fourteen.' He'd never thought about that with Hermione.

‘I'm well aware of what goes on in the heads of fourteen-year-old boys,' Snape drawled as he drained his mug.

‘Oh my God.'

A slight smile crept over Snape's face. He was taking some sort of sadistic pleasure in this. ‘I trust we don't need to have that talk at this particular moment.'

‘No. God, no,' Harry groaned, piling his hands over his head. Could he use accidental magic to apparate out of the dungeons?

‘Although, if there is anyone-'

‘Argh. Stop.' Harry clapped his hands over his ears.

‘Ah, Mr Weasley,' Harry just about heard Snape say as he headed out the door. ‘Inform my son when he resurfaces that I'm going down to breakfast.'

Snape didn't lose the smirk as he left the room and Ron whistled as though they'd just had a narrow escape.

‘Never would have thought he'd let you get away with that. You even breathe wrong in class and it's...' Ron traced a line over his throat.

‘Yeah, but that's class. He's not like that here.' Thankfully, Ron didn't seem to have heard what they were talking about. If he even mentioned the possibility of Snape giving Harry the talk, he'd seriously consider obliviate.

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder as his stomach rumbled. ‘He says you can come over again next week if you want.'

Ron wasn't brimming with enthusiasm. He gave a non-committal nod as they headed to breakfast through the dank dungeon corridors, his shoulders tense as they were caught up in the flow of Slytherins heading towards the Great Hall.

The Slytherins that walked alongside them glared and muttered, but none had their wands out. Snape's change of heart was still a raw wound among his House and as far as they were concerned, it was all Harry's fault, but they weren't stupid enough to try anything, not when the faintest whisper could earn them detention. Snape had to have some sadistic punishment in reserve if they did attack him, not that Harry couldn't take them on himself. The Slytherins might not have their wands to hand, but his was up his sleeve.

When they reached the Great Hall, Harry spotted Hermione with her head down and a book propped open in front of her plate. He slipped into the seat beside her and she immediately snapped the book shut. ‘So, how was it?'

‘Alright, I guess,' Ron shrugged as he heaped sausages on his plate. ‘I didn't lose any points and Snape spent almost the whole time in his lab. Harry didn't even have a nightmare or anything.' He turned to Harry. ‘You might as well have been in the Tower.'

Of course he wanted to be back in the Tower. Living most of the week in the dungeons wasn't his idea of fun, especially when Snape was always holed up in his lab. A flicker of hope ignited as an idea began to take shape. ‘I told Snape I probably wouldn't have any nightmares if I just went back to Gryffindor like I normally do. He said Ron can come over again though.'

‘It's not fair to keep you out of Gryffindor if you're ready to come back. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would speak up for you if you told her you want to stay in the Tower,' Hermione replied.

Harry shook his head. ‘Snape doesn't need to fall out with anyone else. He's already mad at Dumbledore.'

‘What's that all about, anyway?' Ron asked with his mouth full, earning a disgusted look from Hermione.

‘He won't say, but I think it has to do with that night,' Harry replied, lowering his voice. ‘He had all these marks down his arms.' He gestured to where he'd seen the deep red welts beneath Snape's sleeve. He'd been restrained, he'd said. ‘Dumbledore stopped him coming to get me when he was summoned. He made him wait and he could hear everything through the stone.'

Hermione nodded sadly. ‘No wonder he's a bit over-protective. I still think you should speak to Professor McGonagall about coming back.'

Harry leant forward. ‘Actually, I don't think I need to. I just need to prove I'm better off back in the Tower and he'll let me come back. He wants the nightmares to stop too.'

‘How are you going to do that then?' Ron asked.

‘Easy.' It was amazing that it took so long to come up with this plan - it was such an obvious solution. ‘I won't take my potion tonight. I'll be fine just like last night and he'll let me stay in the Tower without getting McGonagall involved. He will, really,' Harry insisted when all he got from Ron and Hermione were dubious looks.

Hermione worried her lip. ‘Are you sure not taking your potion is a good idea?'

‘Yes. It's going to work, and I'll be back in the Tower by the end of the week.'

S.S.

Severus tapped his quill against the parchment and scowled as ink spattering the page. "In the event of death, guardianship of dependants shall be passed to:" It wasn't just possible but likely that he would die in this war. The public nature of the adoption as well as his betrayal of the Dark Lord had made him one of the most obvious targets. There was a very real possibility that whoever he chose would become Harry's guardian. If his application was successful, he needed to be ready to write a name on this form, someone Harry trusted, who could protect him from the Dark Lord, the Ministry, even the headmaster if needs be. Someone who would always have a room for him, even after he'd moved out. But who?

A low muttering came from the students cleaning the remnants of slug and spilled potion from desks by hand. A sharp look was enough to restore silence, but Draco met his gaze with a defiant stare.

He'd spelled the adoption paperwork to be readable to only his own eyes, not taking any chances in a classroom filled with resentful Slytherins. Detention was proving to be an effective deterrent but the sheer number he'd given meant that even Filch was running out of tasks. The owlery floor had never been so clean. This cohort, however, he intended to keep a close watch on; any one of them would be a willing pair of eyes for the Dark Lord or their Death Eater parents.

He had a responsibility to his students, to stop them making the same mistakes he made. The dark arts were the least of the appeal for some. Most could be recruited from a desire to belong or would fall for the Dark Lord's promises of power, revenge and status. Others, like Draco, had been groomed to take the mark since childhood.

He dismissed the group with scant minutes to spare before the end of dinner and they began to trudge out, hands red and sore from scrubbing.

‘Stay behind, Mr Malfoy,' he drawled from behind his desk. The child did as he was told, unable or unwilling to hide a look of utter loathing. ‘Today's task wasn't to your liking?'

He waited for an answer, the silencing stretching until Draco dredged up a reluctant ‘No, sir.'

‘I thought as much. A life of servitude would not suit you, Draco.'

The boy raised his chin. ‘I'm no one's servant.'

‘The Dark Lord has already used you when it was convenient to him. Had Harry died the night you were imperiused the wizarding world may not have so easily accepted your explanation, not when your father already used that excuse in the last war.'

‘Your job depends on my father,' Draco spat, blood rising to his pale cheeks. ‘Just wait until he tells the board of governors about this.'

Severus arched a brow. ‘You overestimate your father's influence at this school. If you continue to exhibit poor judgement, you'll keep finding yourself in detention with me. There is no end of unpleasant assignments I can find you if you're determined to demonstrate your eagerness for servitude.'

Severus dismissed him, and the boy strode from the room with his jaw clenched, brimming with indignation. He'd hoped to appeal to his pride, but the Dark Lord promised glory in return for loyalty and Draco had no desire to rebel against his parents. He would have little to report at the Order meeting, for what small task the headmaster could publicly assign him. Of the potion and the horcruxes the Order members must know nothing.

Severus scooped up the enchanted paperwork and tapped his wand on the parchment so that it bound itself in a tight scroll. He tucked it into his robes as he made his way to his fireplace. He scattered the floo powder in the fireplace. ‘12 Grimmauld Place.'

Severus' Dark Mark thrummed in recognition of the foul magic infesting the mutt's childhood home as he stepped cleanly out of the floo. Black had finally found a way to make himself useful to the Order by sharing his latest hiding spot while he wallowed in his own failures and regret.

Severus had allowed the detention to continue long enough that he could avoid unnecessary small talk before the meeting, but there was still a thrum of chatter in the kitchen as he arrived. An assortment of aurors, Gryffindors and questionable acquaintances of the headmaster sat around a long, worn dining table. At the edge of the room a pot was bubbling on the stove, the odour of stew making his mouth water. He'd forgotten to eat dinner again.

There was one space available at the table and Severus narrowed his eyes at being forced to sit beside Mad-Eye Moody who looked decidedly worse for wear since his stint held captive in a trunk. Lupin smiled in welcome without breaking off his conversation with a young woman who hadn't long since left Hogwarts. Some relative of Black's with a ludicrous name.

‘Severus, you're here.' Molly tapped her wand on the stove, the bubbling easing to a gentle simmer. ‘How is Harry?'

‘Well enough,' he replied gruffly, his mind on the blank space on the adoption paperwork once more. The Weasleys had been accommodating to Harry in the past, taking him in during the summer and inviting him for Christmas without asking for anything in return despite having more than a few mouths to feed already.

He broke off his musing as he met Black's unwavering glare. His hair was a dark tangle about his shoulders and the gaunt look he had on his escape from Azkaban had returned. Grimmauld Place was not treating its master well. Severus made no attempt to contain his sneer.

‘We're all here, so we shall begin,' the headmaster declared from the head of the table. Severus deliberately uncurled his fingers from the fists they'd curled into. Sitting at a table with both Black and the headmaster was a test in self-control.

‘Voldemort remains in hiding, but he has rallied his followers and it is clear that whatever he has planned next requires that he go unnoticed. Our efforts will focus on finding out what he has planned and preventing recruitment. Kingsley do you have anything new?'

The auror shook his head. ‘No increase in reports of dark magic. In fact, no uptick in magical crimes at all. Tonks has been keeping an ear out on patrols and Alastor has been using his connections.'

‘My capture was the crime of a madman as far as the ministry is concerned and there's no talk of danger from the ex-aurors,' Moody growled.

‘There may be nothing for the aurors to notice. The Dark Lord could simply be gathering his resources. His first act was to summon his loyal Death Eaters and fewer answered the call than he hoped,' Severus pointed out.

‘You've got a good handle on the way that monster thinks. Takes one to know one, does it?' Black replied.

‘Coming from an attempted murderer. It's enlightening being in your family home. You're not so different from the family you ran away from, are you Black?'

‘Gentlemen,' the headmaster interrupted firmly before the mutt could respond. Black leant back in his seat, the tension visible in his frame and his stare no less intense.

Albus sighed. ‘Remus, has there been any talk among the werewolves?'

‘Nothing of note, but it could be that they don't trust me. It's well known that we're on good terms and that I worked at Hogwarts. It'll take some time to convince them that any good will has soured, but losing my job at the school likely helped.'

‘Are you preventing recruitment or acting as spy?' Severus asked.

Lupin hesitated and the headmaster spoke for him. ‘Voldemort was always quick to approach those who have been marginalised from wizarding society. When he begins to recruit in earnest, the werewolves are likely to know.'

‘And you're not asking him to dissuade them. The Dark Lord is unlikely to recruit Lupin.'

‘Do you think so?' Lupin interjected. ‘People believed I was his spy in the last war.'

‘You're the reason we need a spy. Convenient that you can sit on the side lines for this war and hide behind my godson,' Black said, unable to contain himself.

‘Sirius, stop,' Lupin warned.

‘I'm what stands between Harry and the Dark Lord.'

‘Because you got rid of the blood wards,' Black roared, shrugging off Lupin's hand as he sought to calm him.

‘Enough.' The headmaster's firm tone effectively silenced both men. ‘This conflict does not serve Harry; it only weakens the protections around him. Severus may not be able to act as our spy, but he is well placed to prevent recruitment of those most vulnerable. Have you made any progress?'

Severus dragged his gaze from Black. ‘The anger amongst the Slytherins is palpable. It is one thing to defect and quite another to adopt Harry Potter.'

The wolf caught his eye as the meeting ended, ignoring a foul look from Black as he ducked out of the kitchen where Molly had begun to serve dinner. Severus followed him out to the entrance hall, waiting impatiently beside the severed troll leg that served as a macabre umbrella stand.

‘How is Harry really?' Lupin asked in a low voice so as not to set off the portrait of Black's aunt.

Severus crossed his arms. ‘Are you asking because you want to know or for Black?'

‘Of course Sirius wants to know. He's been in an even fouler mood since we made this place headquarters. Being on bad terms with Harry is weighing on him-'

‘Enough,' Severus snapped. ‘Harry has been tortured, emancipated from his relatives and the Dark Lord wants him killed. He needs to feel safe and you spend your time advocating for Black's needs instead of his.'

‘That's not true. I want what's best for Harry, and that's a relationship with his godfather.'

‘Black hasn't matured since the day he was given that title. Harry does not trust Black, and he hasn't asked to see him. It is you who looks after him when I cannot, it is you he'd rather confide in, and you continue to keep him at arm's length.'

‘James and Lily chose Sirius, and much as you might not like it, he wants to be Harry's godfather. I don't have a right to take his place.'

‘It was a poor choice. They thought you were the spy.'

‘And they knew I was a werewolf,' he replied bitterly.

‘How convenient for you to have a reason for every failure in your miserable life. You cannot hold down a job, you cannot hold your friends to account, and you cannot put my son before Black and all because you're a werewolf,' Severus scathed.

Lupin's eyes flashed with anger, his jaw tight. The image of the slavering beast he becomes once a month appeared before Severus' eyes and he instinctively reached for his wand. Lupin flinched, jerking away as though struck, but he didn't reach for his own. He turned on his heel without another word.

The front door slammed, the noise and its reverberations sweeping open the curtains that covered Walpurga Black. ‘Filthy half-blood traitor!' she screeched, following it up with fouler invective than the wolf could have delivered on his own.

H.P.

The Tower was dark and quiet with most of its inhabitants already asleep as one day became another. The other four Gryffindor boys had long since drawn their curtains and Harry had waited until their breathing evened out and all that could be heard was gentle snoring.

Harry put his book aside and cast a quiet nox to put out the faint light. He placed his enchanted stone, glasses and potion on the nightstand and drew the curtains around his four poster, but he kept his wand by his side.

He probably wouldn't have a nightmare tonight and once he was back in the Tower things would get better for everyone. Ron and Hermione would see that Snape wanted what was best for him and Snape would finally get to sleep through the night. The hourglasses might finally stop being empty and the whole school would stop staring at him like he was broken.

It had to work. If it didn't, nothing would get better.

He checked the curtains to make sure there were no gaps, then picked up his wand. It took three tries for the silencing spell to catch.

‘Ron,' he breathed, then repeated it once more, louder, but there was no sound of shifting or answering whisper in the dark.

He lay down and cleared his mind. There would be no nightmares tonight. None that anyone would hear, anyway.

H.P.

‘I’m asking him tonight after training,’ Harry said, as he, Ron and Hermione joined the queue in the dungeons. Potions was the final class of the day, but there was no relaxed chatter. The Slytherins waited with sullen faces, looking just as enthusiastic for class as Harry had been for the last three years.

Harry checked over his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard, but for once Malfoy was minding his own business, whispering to Crabbe and Goyle at the far end of the corridor.

He didn’t have to make an effort to keep his voice low. Without anyone to wake him up, the nightmares continued until he was hoarse from screaming, but his silencing spell had held. No one in Gryffindor had heard a sound. He hefted his backpack more securely on his back. His vial of dreamless sleep was tucked in the front pocket – proof that he was ready to go back to the Tower. That much wasn’t a lie.

‘I’ll do well on this potion, then I’m going to impress him in training. I’ve caught up on all the defensive magic that I’d mastered before Christmas, so he’ll be in a good mood. I’ll be packed up and back in the Tower tonight, you’ll see.’

‘Snape’s a walking bad mood. Dementors have nothing on him.’ Ron muttered. He pushed himself from the wall as the door to the classroom swung open. ‘You better work with Hermione if you want to ace this potion.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Professor Snape will just think I did all the work. He’ll be more impressed if Harry does well with you as his partner.’ She didn’t give them a chance to object, filing quickly into the classroom and sitting beside Neville.

Snape no longer needed to say a word to enforce silence. All that could be heard was the clatter of cauldrons being set up and the flutter of pages being turned. The Slytherins and Gryffindors were united in their misery, exchanging gloomy looks when they didn’t dare sigh out loud.

With a wave of Snape’s wand, the ingredients list appeared on the blackboard and Harry wasted no time in heading for the store cupboard. He needed all the time he could get if he was going to get a good grade.

An elbow dug into his side, and a heel landed heavily on his toes, but Harry jostled back just as aggressively, using shoulders and elbows to carve a decisive path to the ingredients. What was left of them, anyway. The cupboard was starting to look sparse, with empty containers dotted between the vials.

Harry grabbed for the last jar of rat spleens only for Goyle to snatch it out of his hands as students tried to avoid incurring Snape’s wrath. Was this some new tactic to assign detention? Give them a potion that there weren’t enough ingredients for?

A summer living in the dungeons and more detentions than he could count had taught Harry something useful. He ducked down and pushed aside the boxes at the bottom of the shelves, grinning as he pulled out a full jar of rat spleens. He surreptitiously tucked it under his cloak while the others squabbled quietly but furiously, trying not to attract Snape’s attention.

Harry returned to his desk without having to dodge a single tripping hex and offloaded the ingredients. At the cauldron beside theirs, Neville twisted his fingers and bit his lip as Hermione surveyed what he’d managed to bring back with dismay.

Harry silently held out the jar while Snape’s back was turned, earning a grateful smile. If Snape’s plan was to fail a bunch of them on purpose, then it wasn’t going to be Gryffindors who were caught out.

The Potions Master patrolled up and down the rows of desks, peering down his long nose at their work. More often than not the quiet was punctuated by his pronouncement of a potion’s shortcomings as though Snape was the brewer’s answer to Trelawney.

‘Too much lacewing,’ he declared, looming over Dean and Seamus. ‘Rectify it, unless the pair of you intend to drink the congealed mass this will become in three minutes.’

Harry peeled and stirred, working on his potion without having to deflect any missiles aimed at his cauldron. Had Snape’s telling off really worked? Was just a few weeks of relentless detentions and the absence of favouritism enough to break the Slytherins?

As they reached the final step of the instructions, Harry stood on his toes to look into Hermione’s cauldron. He and Ron hadn’t quite matched Snape’s request for azure if hers was anything to go by, but it was a decent pale blue. He had a shot at impressing Snape and that meant a decent chance of convincing him he was ready to go back to Gryffindor.

Wood scraped loudly against the stone floor, shattering the quiet and distracting Snape from his latest critique. Nott stood, pale-faced and wide-eyed at the front of the room, clutching a chair for support.

Instinctively, Harry’s fingers curled around his wand. Had Nott been cursed? The door was shut, no one had their wand out, and the other Slytherins were all at their cauldrons, staring open-mouthed as their housemate.

Snape wove quickly through the desks, but before he could reach him, Nott’s legs crumpled, first one then the other, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

‘Shit,’ Ron breathed.

It took only a moment for the shock to pass, and Pansy rushed out from behind her cauldron, but Snape stepped decisively into her path. ‘Stay at your desks,’ he ordered, kneeling beside the unconscious student. It was enough to hold back the surge of Slytherins who retreated warily behind their cauldrons, craning their necks to get a better look as their Head of House performed a medi-wizard spell and took Nott’s pulse.

Harry recognised the barely perceptible widening of his father’s eyes, and his stomach sank. Whatever happened to Nott was serious.

‘Ms Parkinson, fetch Madam Pomfrey.’ Snape turned to Zabini as Pansy hurried from the room. ‘Mr Zabini, was Mr Nott unwell at the start of class?’ The Potions Master inspected the contents of their cauldron, using a spell to decant some of the solution into a vial.

‘No, sir. He was fine.’

‘He was fine until he went into the ingredients cupboard, sir.’ Malfoy volunteered. His voice was flat, his tone almost a challenge.

‘Raise your hand if you went into the ingredients cupboard,’ Snape said. The class exchanged nervous looks and hands crept up, one from each pair. Harry raised his but Malfoy’s remained in his pockets.

Snape’s black eyes were impenetrable as he noted Harry’s hand amongst the others. ‘If your hand is in the air, go to the back of the room, touch nothing. Yes, that means you Mr Goyle. The rest of you, cast a stasis spell on your cauldron and remain where you are.’

A nervous muttering erupted as half the class made their way to the back of the room. No one else looked on the brink of collapse, just pale and nervous.

‘Professor?’ Lavender called out. Harry followed her gaze to where Nott lay. The skin on his left hand had turned a vivid red and blisters burst open along his fingers.

With a flick of his wrist, a vial appeared in Snape’s hand, but as he unstoppered it to decant over Nott’s skin, the unconscious Slytherin began to convulse. Immediately, their teacher began to chant under his breath as he poured the potion over Nott’s hand, and some of the students began to cry, covering their mouths to stifle the sounds.

Zabini’s knuckles were tight as he clutched the edge of his desk, and even Crabbe and Goyle exchanged worried looks. But as Harry scanned the faces of the Slytherins, cold, grey eyes met his. Malfoy’s friend was sick or cursed, lying on the floor of the classroom but there was no fear or concern on his face.

Nott’s convulsions began to ease but Snape only stopped chanting when Madam Pomfrey arrived. ‘It’s poison, likely bloodroot that’s been absorbed through the skin. I haven’t confirmed the source but the students at the back are most at risk of contamination.’

‘Dear Merlin,’ she gasped, with nowhere near Snape’s ability to hide her emotions. ‘Send any students along who have been contaminated and I’ll deal with them once Mr Nott is stable.’ A stretcher appeared beneath Nott, lifting him smoothly from the ground.

‘What the hell?’ Dean whispered, but Harry was watching Malfoy, who wasn’t even looking as his housemate was stretchered, unconscious, from the room.

One by one, Snape scanned the students and inspected their hands before declaring each uncontaminated. When it was his turn, Harry held his hands palm upwards and Snape inspected them carefully, his brows drawn tightly together. When he finally declared him free of contaminants, he did it on a deep exhale, a fraction of the tension in his shoulders easing.

Harry hovered by the door, waiting for everyone else to be excused. He fidgeted with his bag as he tried to contain himself until the door closed behind the last Gryffindor. ‘This was Malfoy. You should have seen the look on his face,’ he burst out as soon as they were alone.

Snape looked up at the ceiling as though he were calling on Merlin for patience he didn’t possess. ‘I do not have time to indulge in your rivalry with Draco. There is a dangerous toxin in my classroom poisoning my students; your training will have to wait until tomorrow.’

‘He didn’t care that Nott was sick,’ Harry insisted. ‘Everyone else was worried except him.’ He dropped his bag onto one of the desks and made to pull out a chair, but Snape swooped in on him and grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Touch nothing, unless you wish to join Nott in the hospital wing.’ A vial of dreamless sleep appeared in his hand, and he thrust it towards Harry as he led him firmly to the door. ‘Stay in the Tower tonight.’

Harry didn’t take it. He opened the front pocket of his bag, sensing his opportunity to persuade Snape that he was ready to return to Gryffindor slipping through his fingers. ‘But I don’t need any more dreamless-’

‘Harry,’ Snape snapped, his voice echoing in the empty corridor. ‘Do me the courtesy of following a simple instruction so that I can find the toxin that’s poisoning one of my students.’

No sooner had Harry taken the vial than the door slammed shut in his face. Snape didn't want to hear it, as usual. He was just going to have to try again tomorrow. If he'd seen how calm and unaffected Malfoy had been, he wouldn't dismiss Harry so easily.  

He tucked the green vial into the front pocket of his bag with the other. Two full dreamless sleep potions would be even more convincing than one. 

S.S.

Severus strode towards the store cupboard. There was no way that Nott could have accidentally come into contact with bloodroot. Not even the NEWT students brewed with it, and regardless, none were so stupid as to misplace dangerous toxins in the general stores.

He clenched his teeth as he took in the state of disarray. Empty jars were interspersed with heavily depleted ingredients - spider’s legs shouldn’t be anywhere near Venomous Tentacula leaves. There was a strong chance he’d been assigning detention for failing potions where the students didn’t have the ingredients.

On the middle shelf on the right, a jar had cracked open where it had been wedged between the salamander eyes and the frog spleens. Shards of glass surrounded the deadly plant and bloodroot cuttings had fallen along the shelf and onto the jars below. Either the entire class had been immensely fortunate that they hadn’t touched the exposed roots, or the jar had smashed while Nott had been in here alone.

There was a brief knock at the door. Of course, the headmaster could be relied upon to be all-knowing. No doubt one of the portraits had rushed to tell him that one of the students had been poisoned on his watch. It would begin with the headmaster, but how soon before magical law enforcement began to take an interest? If the adoption services caught wind of an investigation, they would never agree to put Harry in his care. At best there would be yet more delay, leaving him vulnerable to the Dark Lord.

He turned as the headmaster closed the door and gestured for him to look. The headmaster stared for a long time, not just at the offending ingredient, but at the cupboard in its entirety. ‘When did you last take inventory?’

Severus pressed his lips together and looked away. He had lost too much respect for Albus for that disappointed tone to work, but it was too long ago to admit. It was a relief, however, that he hadn’t had to answer the question of whether he had mislaid the bloodroot. The headmaster knew well enough that the most dangerous ingredients were kept in his private stores.

‘The bloodroot was amongst the ingredients for today’s potion and the poisoning didn’t happen until part-way through the lesson. No one else in the class was contaminated, so it was likely planted after most students set to work,’ Severus said.

‘You believe Mr Nott was the target?’

‘Not necessarily,’ he answered. ‘Bloodroot is potentially fatal, but the safest place to be contaminated is my classroom and in my presence. Whoever planted it would have been confident that anyone poisoned would recover. The only person who will suffer a detriment in the long term is me.’

‘Your efforts to control your house haven’t had the desired effect. The aurors will see this as attempted murder – I do not think they would so easily believe that the perpetrator judged the risk to life to be so low.’

‘The aurors will see it that way because they will suspect a Slytherin student was the culprit. Murder by werewolf barely warranted a meeting when the perpetrators were Gryffindors,’ he replied bitterly.

‘Mr Nott’s parents will demand we act.’ That Severus’ wouldn’t have went unsaid. His mother would have dismissed it had she been told, not out of malice but because she would rather have believed it was a prank gone wrong than have another problem heaped onto her shoulders. His father wouldn’t even have read the letter.

Severus levitated the fallen roots and collected them carefully in a jar. Bloodroot was damned expensive. If the aurors didn’t insist on taking it as evidence, he’d certainly have it for his own stores. ‘The adoption will be in jeopardy,’ he said matter-of-factly. He placed the bloodroot on the desk between him and the headmaster, finally meeting his employer’s sombre gaze. ‘This was a performance and not a very convincing one, but it doesn’t need to be. This will raise concerns with the adoption authorities about the safety of children in my care and that’s all they need to refuse to take it further. The protections around Harry have never been weaker.’

The headmaster sighed, using the edge of his robe to clean his half-moon spectacles. ‘It’s premature to despair. I can see to it that aurors who are sympathetic to our interests are assigned.’

‘And one of my students will be expelled.’ He might be Harry’s father, but he was still a Head of House. They were his students being influenced to make terrible choices and because they were Slytherins the punishments would be harsher, the judgement more severe. Not an immature mistake but a proof that they were always evil. They were condemned as soon as the Sorting Hat made its decision.

‘Are you certain it was one of the Slytherins?’ The headmaster began to inspect the shelves, spelling open the boxes of surplus ingredients that hadn’t made it to the shelves. Severus grit his teeth and summoned the empty jars, decanting a large container of wasp wings as he considered the question.

‘I’m not popular amongst any of my students at present. Both Gryffindors and Slytherins alike have reason to want to stop the adoption, but bloodroot is not easy to procure. I would surmise that either an older student or a parent had a hand in this.’

‘The children of Death Eaters perhaps? Your attempts to persuade them away from joining up still aren’t going well?’ With a wave of his wand, vials and jars zoomed onto the shelves, rattling as they shuffled into place.

‘I have betrayed them. All that I can do is show them the reality of what they’re considering. I can tell them we’ll protect them and that they can come to me, but they need to believe it. I do not have their trust.’

‘And punishing them is regaining their trust? The house points have never been so low.’

‘This is ample demonstration why. I must have control. This shouldn’t even cross their minds as an option and in my classroom no less.’

‘And your cure for Harry? The best decisions aren’t made when we are under a great deal of stress. I would be happy to assist in your research.’

Severus clenched his teeth, slamming down an empty vial so hard that it cracked. ‘I do not want the help of a man who was happy to see how the prophecy played out.’

‘Then we are in a similar position. All I can do is show you the reality of your decisions.’ With a final wave of his wand, he banished the dust on the nearest set of shelves so that the now fully stocked jars gleamed in the torchlight. ‘And tell you that if you require assistance, I will provide it.’

The next morning, Severus paced the length of his study, his fingers clasped tightly around his wand. It was hard to think amongst the reminders of his failures. Books on dark magic were piled high beside parchments covered in his looping script. His latest vial stood smoking on his desk, the experimental potion little more than grey sludge at the bottom of the glass. It didn’t even bear testing. The adoption paperwork remained in the drawer, the space for a guardian’s name pressing on nerves.

What was this latest incident but a reminder of how likely a target he was. And what would become of his son then? Not a child but a pawn of the headmaster’s. Who would make sure that he studied for his OWLs? Who would persuade him that his life had value, that he had time left to be a child and to rely on the adults around him?

In the living room, the portrait thumped open and there came two thunks as Harry tossed down his bag and then dropped onto the couch. With a flick of his wand, Severus cast a subterfuge spell over his desk so that the book titles rearranged themselves, the letters jostling into position and new ones appearing in Herbs of Great Britain and The Healer’s Compendium.

‘Are we still training today? I thought you might be busy planning detention for life for Malfoy and his mates,’ Harry called out.

‘I can hardly assign detention to Draco for something I have no evidence he was involved in.’

‘Come off it. I bet he’s the only one in our class bar Hermione who even knows what bloodroot is. If I’d done something like this, you’d be screaming for me to be expelled.’

‘If you’d done something like this, you’d deserve to be expelled. I am dealing with it. Draco Malfoy is not the only student in this school with a connection to the Dark Lord. It is a small mercy that the Slytherins are focussing their ire on me instead of you. I can assure you that I am more than capable of outwitting a few teenagers,’ he said, feigning confidence.

'What do you mean, focussing on you? What does Nott have to do with you?'

'A poisoning occured in my classroom to one of my students. I'm quite certain whatever foolish student was responsible was attempting to disrupt my class in particular,' he replied, cursing at himself silently. That was a careless mistake for a former spy to make. It would do no good for Harry to find out how badly this impacted his chances of being adopted.

Two small vials of pale green potion sat on the coffee table beside Harry’s open school bag. ‘Where did you get those?’ he demanded. He’d been careful to give Harry only as much as he needed to prevent over-exposure. If the foolish child had dared break into his stores, the alarm spell would have sounded.

Harry took a breath and lifted his chin. ‘I knew I wouldn’t have nightmares when I was in the dorms, so I didn’t take my potion the last couple of nights. I want to go back to the Tower.’ The words sounded rehearsed, his desperation to go back to Gryffindor palpable.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You become distraught, Harry.’

‘When I have the nightmares. I didn’t have a nightmare when Ron stayed over, and I haven’t had them the last couple of nights, even after what happened to Nott. You can ask Ron if you don’t believe me.’

Severus opened his mouth to issue the same denial he had every other time, but Harry interrupted, his green eyes wide and imploring. ‘I don’t want to keep having nightmares, Dad. This will fix it. Please.’

Something twisted in his chest. It did Harry little good to spend the latter part of the evening alone in the dungeons for five nights a week. Returning to the Tower wasn’t likely to permanently stop the nightmares, but Harry’s frustration grew each time he awoke drenched in sweat. If there was a chance that being in the dormitory might give him a brief reprieve or reduce them at all then he couldn’t deprive him of the opportunity to try it.

‘Very well,’ he relented. ‘You may return to the Tower.’ Harry’s face lit up with sheer delight. The boy’s scar hadn’t been a problem yet - it had been weeks since the Dark Lord returned, and he hadn’t yet attacked Harry in his sleep. Or else, the child was sufficiently able to defend himself. He let out a long breath. ‘If your scar bothers you, you must tell me.’

H.P.

‘I will. I promise.’ A huge grin spread across his face. He’d done it – he was going back to the Tower. Everything was going to be better now. The Gryffindors would see that he was still one of them and Snape could get a decent night’s sleep. Maybe then he’d give it a rest with trying to get the world record for most detentions issued in one term.

‘Come, show me that you can evade capture and disarm an attacker.’

Harry jumped to his feet, snatching up his wand from the couch. ‘I’ve shown you I can do that already, even with my nerve damage. Last week Remus said I was ready to practice against multiple attackers. He said he’d help with my training if he’s not working.’

Snape shook his head. ‘That’s not necessary. If you require more of a challenge, we can begin work on offensive casting.’

‘I doubt I’m going to learn anything that’s going to help me off Voldemort, unless you’re planning on teaching me unforgivables. Death Eaters tend to go around in packs. I wanted to practice fighting off more people.’ Snape and Remus had different duelling styles. He was getting good enough to defend against each of them separately, but fighting off both of them at the same time would be a real test. If he could master that then maybe he stood a decent chance if he was ever captured again. He couldn’t rely on the ghosts of his parents appearing, or his dad coming to save him, every time he was in trouble.

‘Don’t joke about unforgivables; you saw enough of those this year already. You will be able to match the Dark Lord one day, the prophecy speaks to that.’

‘I’d rather know I can get away if I get stuck in another graveyard with a dozen Death Eaters,’ he persisted. ‘We can just call Remus and see if he’s home,’ he said, reaching for the floo powder.

Snape summoned it and caught the pot in one hand. ‘No.’

‘Why not? He said he didn’t mind.’

‘I will decide if and when we introduce someone else into your training. I have a great many things I’d like to do with my evening and none of them is argue with my son.’

‘He did my training last week so it’s not some secret. What’s the big deal?' Harry narrowed his eyes. Something was off with Snape. His arguments didn’t make any sense. 'Are you in a fight with Remus?’

Snape clenched his jaw and Harry recognised that look. He let out an irritated growl and thumped back down onto the sofa, crossing his arms. ‘Do you have to be horrible to everyone?’

Snape’s eyes flashed with anger and something else that almost made him wish he could call back his words. Sitting was a tactical mistake - it was too easy for Snape to loom over him. ‘I may not be your father yet, but you will speak to me with respect. If you still wish to return to the Tower, I suggest you get up and show some enthusiasm for the training I have planned.’

Harry dragged himself to his feet and took a pinch of floo powder from the pot without a word. This proved it; he had to go back to the Tower before Snape completely burned out and alienated every ally he had left.

H.P.

The atmosphere in Gryffindor Tower had gone from anxious in the aftermath of Nott’s poisoning to animated as seating began to be erected around the lake ahead of the second task. Students took it in turns to stare out of the snow-covered windows as Fred and George took bets on what the next task would be. ‘It’s a fight to the death against the giant octopus,’ one over-excited first year cried out and Harry joined in the laughter as he hauled his trunk up the dormitory stairs. 

‘Welcome back, Harry,’ Neville called out as he fished a few knuts out of his pocket.

‘Bet you’re glad you’re out of the tournament. I think I’d rather face a dragon than freeze to death in the lake,’ Ron said, grabbing the other end of the trunk.

‘Nah, I’d have drowned first. I can’t swim.’

‘Really?’ Ron replied, dropping the trunk at the foot of Harry’s four poster. ‘Don’t let You-Know-Who find out. Do you reckon he’s got a weakness like that? Like really bad hay fever or a dodgy knee.’

Harry chuckled, but his good humour was punctured by Ron’s reaction. Was it that much of a weakness that he couldn’t swim? Voldemort wasn’t going to try to murder him in the prefect’s bathroom or out at the lake, but he’d be better off if Snape didn’t find out. He shuddered as he imagined wearing inflatable armbands and flailing about in the lake as the Slytherins laughed. Not a chance.

‘I can’t believe you got Snape to agree to you moving back just like that,’ Ron said. 

‘I told you it would work.’ Harry looked at the mess collected in his trunk; he hadn’t packed so much as dumped in all his clothes and books. Snape had watched with raised eyebrows for a full ten seconds before walking away and shaking his head.

Hermione came in and perched on the edge of the bed, watching dubiously as he rifled through the chaos. ‘Did Professor Snape say anything about what happened to Nott?’ she asked.

‘Not really. I’ve told him I think it was Malfoy, but he just thinks I’m biased.’

‘Bloodroot is a nasty toxin. Nott was really lucky that Snape recognised it and knew what to do.’ She hesitated, picking up one of Harry’s quills that had gotten mixed in with his clothes and turned it over in her hands. ‘Is it possible he doesn’t think it was Malfoy because, well, he knows it was an accident.’

‘What do you mean?’ Harry asked, dumping his textbooks out onto the bed and making Hermione wince as they tumbled on top of each other. ‘This bloodroot’s not stuff you get in the student store cupboard, so whoever put it there did it on purpose.’

‘Or maybe when the cupboard was being stocked, someone made a mistake. It’s been a bit bare in there lately and he’s been so busy with the adoption, your training, and all the detentions he’s been giving out. You said yourself that he barely sleeps, and he’s obsessed with his new potion. What if he ordered bloodroot for it and then misplaced it?’

Harry dropped his bunched up quidditch robes, bristling with consternation. ‘He wouldn’t let people think a student poisoned someone just to get himself out of trouble. And he wouldn’t accidentally leave something dangerous in the cupboard. It wasn’t in there at the start of the lesson. I’d have seen it.’

‘Would you? It looks like a common root. There’d be no reason for you to notice it.’ Harry just glared. It hadn’t been there – he was sure of it. ‘If it was found to be from the store cupboard that would look really bad for Professor Snape,’ Hermione continued. ‘It, well, it makes him look negligent, and he wouldn’t want the adoption services to find out.’

Something in Harry’s stomach twisted. Could Nott getting poisoned be enough to put an end to the adoption? ‘Snape’s not negligent. He’s the most careful person I know. I’m telling you; it was Malfoy.’

‘Why would he poison Nott though?’ Ron asked.

‘Maybe it wasn’t meant for Nott at all. Or maybe he thought it would be worth it to get Snape in trouble. The Slytherins all have it in for him now.’

‘I bet Crabbe and Goyle were in on it,’ Ron said as he fished out a chocolate frog from the detritus at the bottom of the trunk. ‘They’re thick enough to mess it up and accidentally poison Nott.’

‘Malfoy never put his hand up. He must have made one of them plant it for him.’

‘Well, I hope you’ve got a plan to find out because I’m not brewing us another Polyjuice potion,’ Hermione sniffed.

‘Invisibility cloak?’ Harry suggested, holding it up with one hand and grabbing the marauder’s map with the other.

‘Not in the dungeons again. Too risky,’ Ron said around a mouthful of chocolate.

‘We don’t need to go to the dungeons. We could go to the hospital wing,’ Harry said. All they had to do was wait – the Slytherins were bound to visit Nott eventually. Even if Malfoy didn’t come, Crabbe and Goyle were bound to let something slip.

‘Now?’ Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. ‘Why not?’

Ron had to stoop to fit so they could all fit under the cloak as Harry whispered the map’s password outside the hospital wing doors.

‘Look, Dumbledore and Snape are here,’ Harry said, nudging Ron in the ribs.

‘And Nott’s dad,’ Hermione pointed out. The Mr Nott dot was with Madam Pomfrey in her office, wobbling from side to side as though he was pacing. Harry swallowed. Nott had been at the graveyard behind one of the masks, chasing him through the graves. He suddenly felt hot, and bile rose in his throat. Nott had watched him scream, had laughed.

‘Are you alright?’ she whispered. Harry gave a jerky nod, pocketing the map with a trembling hand. For the first time he was grateful he could pass it off as one of his tremors as they snuck inside.

They didn’t need to worry about being noticed. Nott was out cold and Nott Senior, a well-dressed man with a shock of grey hair, was causing a commotion at the far end of the wing. Harry recognised his voice, though the subservient tone he’d answered Voldemort with had transformed into one of indignation.

‘This woman says my son was poisoned in your classroom,’ Mr Nott said, gesturing rudely to Madam Pomfrey’s office. His face was bright red with anger as he squared up to Snape. If it bothered the Potions Master to be berated by one of the men who had watched as Harry was tortured, he was hiding it well. ‘My son almost died on your watch.’

‘Professor Snape’s quick intervention ensured your son will make a full recovery. Apportioning blame should wait until we get to the bottom of how he encountered the bloodroot,’ Dumbledore interjected, likely not entirely trusting Snape’s composure.

‘It was in his class,’ he said, jabbing his finger for effect. He rounded once more on Snape. ‘Your incompetence has almost killed my son. The board will not stand for this. You’re finished at this school, Snape.’

Snape narrowed his eyes, looking unimpressed by the threats and the finger-pointing. ‘I take the welfare of all my students seriously. I intend to leave no stone unturned in finding out how Theodore was poisoned, I assure you.’

‘He wrote home about your erratic behaviour. Your stores are woefully stocked, your classes taught with the students in silence, and you’ve started a vendetta against your own house.’ He turned back to Dumbledore, puffed up with righteous anger. ‘I want him fired now or else the board will suspend him while they investigate his conduct. I have more than enough evidence to have him removed from his post.’

Harry gasped. They couldn’t fire Snape over this. If he lost his job, then there was no way he’d get adopted. Besides, he didn’t want a dad he could only see in the holidays, not when he’d only just gotten someone of his own.

Hermione stepped on his foot, giving him a warning look. He clenched his jaw tightly, swallowing down another wave of nausea. He was itching to get his wand out and curse Nott. How could they just let him stand there and yell at Snape when he was the one who should be arrested.

His dad had the same look on his face that he got when he was about to say checkmate in wizard’s chess. ‘As we’re discussing evidence,’ he began smoothly, ‘I’ve preserved the bloodroot and the container. We’re prepared to investigate ourselves, but you will have my full support if you would rather both were turned over directly to the aurors so that you can pursue charges. I see that you are convinced of my guilt but a thorough investigation by professionals could conclude this more swiftly and with less danger to our other students. We potentially have a poisoner at large in the castle. Theodore may only be the first victim.’

‘I didn’t say anything about calling in the aurors,’ Nott backtracked quickly. ‘I want consequences, not a lengthy investigation into Snape’s inventory mismanagement. He’s not up to the job and the board will agree.’

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you,’ the headmaster replied. ‘I have complete faith in Professor Snape. I won’t remove a capable teacher from Hogwarts without an investigation.’

‘I’m calling for an urgent meeting,’ Nott said. ‘I think you’ll find the board will be prepared to do what it takes to protect the students.’

Snape and Dumbledore watched Nott storm from the room in silence. Once the hospital wing doors slammed shut, Snape raised a single eyebrow, tilting his head to indicate they should follow.

‘Woah,’ Ron whispered as soon as the coast was clear. ‘Nott’s really got it in for Snape.’

Harry suppressed the urge to hit something, curling his fingers into fists. The queasy feeling started to ease, like a rush of adrenaline finally dissipating. ‘We’ve got to prove it was Malfoy before the board meets. If Snape gets suspended then that’s it, no adoption.’

‘Not necessarily. Maybe just no more potions in silence or evening-long detentions for turning pages too loudly,’ Ron muttered as Harry pulled the marauder’s map out of his pocket.

S.S.

‘You would have been an exceptional asset as a spy,’ the headmaster lamented as they followed Nott Senior from a distance.

Severus intended to make sure the Death Eater left the castle grounds directly. The last thing Harry needed was to accidentally bump into one of the men who’d tried to murder him, although thankfully without the mask and robes Harry shouldn’t be able to recognise him.

‘I expected no less of you, but you maintained your composure admirably,’ Albus continued.

‘He watched as my son was tortured and laughed. I saved his son’s life, and he has the audacity to come after me,’ Severus seethed. ‘Whatever foolish plot this was, it hasn’t come off as intended. Nott could never think on his feet, which is likely why it’s taken him a full day after Theodore’s poisoning for a fleeting visit to his bedside.’

‘You think he waited for instructions?’

‘Or to concoct a plan with Lucius. I imagine he’s already bribed half the board to support a motion to suspend.’

‘I think you underestimate our board members; not so many are so easily bought. I think more will be convinced of the need for you to stay given that you saved young Nott’s life. Your suggestion of bringing in aurors sufficiently scared Nott, although I was surprised you brought it up given our last conversation.’

‘It was a calculated risk. If Nott truly believed I was at fault, he would have demanded they be called himself. What better way to achieve his goal of having me discredited and removed from the castle than to have a criminal investigation. He doesn’t want to involve the aurors because he knows a good deal more than he’s letting on.’

He stopped on the grand staircase and watched as Nott left via the main doors. It was getting late, and Harry wouldn’t be out on the grounds at this hour so there was no risk of a chance meeting.

‘But does he want to avoid calling in the aurors more than he wants your suspension?’ the headmaster mused beside him.

‘We’ll have to hope so. I have a detention to oversee,’ Severus replied, excusing himself as rapidly as he was able, and descending with a sweep of his robes to the dungeons.

Tonight would be Harry’s first night returning to the Tower without the aid of dreamless sleep, not counting the nights that he rather foolishly decided to forgo his potion. He didn’t share his son’s rather naïve belief that his trauma could be cured by the presence of his housemates.

If the Gryffindors were content to have their sleep occasionally disturbed by gut-wrenching screams then he would not argue against it, but the idea that he might be on the other side of the castle if the Dark Lord attacked through his scar made Severus feel ill. They had no way to gauge how much more extreme the effects might be, and Harry was much more vulnerable at night.

‘Longbottom, stay behind,’ he called out as the fourth-year detention cohort filtered from the room.

Longbottom turned pale but did as he was told. The fool stood gormlessly behind his desk, not even moving to pack up his bag. Flobberworm slime clung to back of his hands and Severus held back his sneer with difficulty.

‘If Harry experiences pain in his scar during the night you will fetch me immediately. If his nightmares continue more than once a week, then you will tell me. I’m going to hold you personally responsible for his wellbeing while he’s in the Tower.’

‘Yes, sir. I-I wouldn’t let my friend get hurt,’ he promised, stumbling over his words. He was frightened, but sincere, and that would have to be enough.

‘See that you don’t.’

H.P.

The three of them headed back to the Tower and Harry’s stomach was twisting around a deep knot of anger. How many Death Eaters were allowed to roam the castle anyway? First Malfoy’s dad and now Nott’s. He’d told the ministry what had happened and who was there, and they called him a liar and said he was traumatised. Now the same people who should have been locked up were poisoning students and getting his dad sacked. And they were just supposed to do nothing?

Without a word, they went through the portrait hole and up to the dormitories. ‘I could go to Snape’s quarters and steal the jar,’ Harry suggested as soon as the door was shut. ‘There’s a spell that’ll prove where it came from, that’s what they said in the hospital wing.’

‘Are you mental?’ Ron said, lowering his voice even though they were alone. ‘We’d get detention for life if we steal from Snape. The way he’s been lately, he’d try to have us expelled.’

‘I don’t know the spell and one day isn’t enough time to find it and learn it. Besides, if it was that easy wouldn’t Professor Dumbledore have done it?’ Hermione added.

‘Fine, then let’s go to Slytherin,’ Harry suggested. His invisibility cloak was still in his bag and the marauder’s map was in his pocket.

‘And hope Malfoy starts bragging about poisoning Nott?’ Ron asked dubiously.

‘Why not? Malfoy loves showing off and he wants to get back at Snape. If he thinks he’s got him out of a job, he’d gloat about it.’

‘I’m not sure he’s that stupid, mate. Plus, we might spend all night in the dungeons and have nothing to show for it.’

‘Then we need to stop the board from meeting,’ Harry said desperately. ‘No meeting, no suspension.’

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look. ‘Harry-’ she began but he cut her off.

‘I’m not letting Snape get suspended whether you help me or not,’ he said, raising his voice. He was breathing hard as though he’d just run all the way from the hospital wing to the Tower. That was it, wasn’t it? They didn’t want him to get adopted anyway and everyone hated Snape more than ever.

He flung open the dormitory door and barrelled down the stairs, ignoring his friends’ attempts to appease him. There were still people who would help him, even if he couldn’t count on Ron and Hermione.

The twins were huddled together on a couch in the common room, talking in low voices when he approached. ‘Harry!’ Fred exclaimed, cutting their conversation short as soon as he was within earshot and smiling widely. ‘Any inside knowledge on the second task? I can give you excellent odds on finding buried treasure. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people putting money on a duel with the giant octopus.’

‘No. I don’t know,’ Harry said, shaking his head distractedly. He lowered his voice. ‘I need your help with something.’

‘Oh?’ Fred replied, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin.

‘Harry, Harry. What will dear old dad say? I was in detention all last weekend. Fatherhood hasn’t mellowed him out like I thought it would and he didn’t like me saying so,’ George said.

‘He’s been a bit on edge,’ Harry grimaced. ‘I need your help with a prank. Something big and distracting. I’ll take the fall for it.’

‘A Weasley lets no man take the fall for his prank,’ George declared, scandalised.

‘It’s a point of honour,’ Fred nodded seriously.

‘The thing is, it needs to happen tomorrow. I need to stop the board from meeting.’

Fred looked thoughtful. ‘We might have some things in the pipeline-’

‘As yet untested-’

‘Somewhat unpredictable-’

‘That might do the trick. Leave it with us,’ George finished, clapping him on the arm.

Harry sighed in relief. If nothing else you could always count on the twins to cause mischief. Not even Snape at his strictest put them off. 

Still thorough ticked off with his friends, Harry spent the remainder of the evening in the common room. It was long after the room had cleared and everyone else had headed off to bed that Harry finally dragged himself up the stairs.  

The one downside to his plan to stay in the Tower was that everyone had to believe he wasn’t having the nightmares anymore so taking his leftover dreamless sleep wasn’t an option. Hermione and Snape would see through that in an instant. He was getting good at the silencing charm though. It only took two tries once he was sure the others had fallen asleep.

He pulled the covers up over his shoulder and stared unblinking at the curtains. He would have a nightmare tonight; he was certain of it. The graveyard appeared in his mind as soon as he closed his eyes, and it was all Nott’s fault. Anger coursed through him in waves, and shame too, that they saw him screaming, helpless. He knew another of the faces behind the mask now. One of the people who wanted him to die, who wanted to watch it happen.

S.S.

Severus ploughed through a stack of essays, surrounded by the essentials: a vial of headache potion, his stone linked with Harry’s, and a depleted pot of red ink. One benefit to his new approach was that more of his students were inspired to make an effort with their homework, fearing they’d end up in detention if they received a score of dreadful or below. Frankly, they deserved detention if he had to waste time reading the drivel most students could fill twelve inches of parchment with.

A knock on his office door came just as he rewarded one Hufflepuff with a begrudging Acceptable. The carriage clock began to chime – eleven o’clock. Well beyond curfew. He touched the stone – he’d changed the spell to alert him through movement as well as heat to avoid another catastrophe where Harry called for him and he didn’t answer. It remained still and quite cool.

When he answered the door, instead of finding a colleague or an errant student on the other side, it was Lupin.

He looked tired, more so than the late hour warranted. Likely his integration with the werewolf community forced him to keep odd hours. Severus arched a brow and stepped back, allowing him to enter. He’d meant everything he’d said, but it might have been a tactical error to berate his most reliable source of free childcare. If the wolf wanted to end this impasse and apologise, he wouldn’t stop him. ‘Foolish to wander the castle if you want the werewolves to believe you aren’t close to Dumbledore.’

‘It served a purpose, a humiliating one, you’ll be pleased to hear. I came to plead for my job back and be denied. Unemployment and difficulty integrating in the wizarding community were how You-Know-Who appealed to the werewolves in the last war.’ He glanced at the desk, at the pile of essays still to be marked and the empty vial beside it, but he didn’t remark on it nor the late hour. ‘Albus said you’ve had a difficult couple of days.’

Lupin was a master of the understatement. The reminder of the looming board meeting, the adoption interviews and his failed attempts at ridding Harry of the horcrux was a sudden weight on his chest. Too agitated to sit, Severus remained on his feet, but kept the barrier of the desk between them. ‘There will be a board meeting tomorrow to discuss whether I am so incompetent a Potions Master that I have endangered the life of my students. The adoption services will be able to put this in the column where they’ve noted that I have the Dark Mark, I told the aurors that it wasn’t a crime to dislike Harry Potter and that my students find me intimidating.'

Once he’d started to unburden himself, he found that he couldn’t prevent his frustrations from spilling out. ‘I allowed Harry to go back to the Tower because he thinks it will make his nightmares stop, which is ludicrous. Now he is on the other side of the castle and if he is attacked through his scar, I won’t be able to help. And if Nott has his way, I’ll be suspended and removed from the castle where mere weeks ago my son was kidnapped.’

He gritted his teeth before he told Lupin that for the first time since he changed his allegiance, he was afraid to die, to abandon his son when he was most vulnerable. The damned adoption paperwork had thrown the question of what would happen to Harry were he to lose his life to the front of his mind, and the longer it went unresolved, the more it nagged at him. He’d scrutinised the issue from all angles and the ideal arrangement was complex but theoretically possible. But he would never put Harry in a home where he wasn’t wanted. He wouldn’t recreate the trauma he’d experienced with his aunt and uncle.

‘I don’t think you’re going to let this incident stand in the way of the adoption. You’re more than capable of talking the adoption services round. For better or worse, you know how to choose your words,’ Lupin said dryly, leaving Severus in no doubt that their last conversation was on his mind. ‘And Harry’s safe in the Tower. If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t have let him go.’

The great weight on his chest lessened somewhat. ‘I don’t require your reassurances,’ he lied.

‘Of course,’ Lupin agreed, making no attempt to appear convinced.

Severus narrowed his eyes and gestured to the door. ‘If that’s all you wanted.’

‘Obviously that’s not all I wanted. Look,’ he said, leaning forward in his seat, ‘you and I being on good terms is what’s best for Harry. It does him no good to have us at odds. Contrary to what you might think, I have been putting Harry first. I’ve changed my work schedule to be there when he needs me, and I supported you when you wanted to remove him from his relatives against Albus’ wishes. It was my idea for you to take him permanently. But I’m not his godfather and if I’ve stepped back, it’s only because I have nothing to offer that he doesn’t already get from you or Sirius.

‘James and Lily picked Sirius for a reason. He’s the one he’ll talk to when he’s in too much trouble to go to you, or for advice about girls or about the mischief he gets up to with his friends.’

Severus’ lip curled. ‘Harry already has numerous Weasley children to look up to when it comes to childish pranks and dubious dating advice. He has one notoriously strict parent and a volatile godfather; you do not think reliability and an even temper might be something he values?’

Lupin opened and closed his mouth like he’d been called on in class and hadn’t bothered to open his book. Severus continued; it was satisfying to eviscerate the wolf’s weak logic even if he came inadvertently close to offering a compliment. ‘What would two twenty-year-olds know about raising a traumatised teenager? They likely didn’t anticipate that rather than take up a parenting role when they died, Black would land himself in Azkaban for over a decade.’

Severus finally took a seat. He opened his desk drawer, removed the spell concealing the adoption paperwork and slid it across the desk.

Lupin took a moment to read the form. The space for the guardian’s name in the event of his death had been filled with Molly and Arthur Weasley. ‘I’m aware you can’t put Sirius’ name here. I know you’re not asking my opinion, but it’s a good choice.’

‘The options for who the ministry would deem acceptable were limited. It is likely that I will die in this war. If Harry goes to the Weasleys he will attempt to be unobtrusive in a family with seven other children, and the headmaster will ultimately dictate his fate.’

‘Is that what all this has been about?’ Some of the tension dropped from Lupin’s shoulders. ‘If anything happened to you, I won’t abandon him and I’ll speak up for him, even against Albus. For what it’s worth, I’ll do whatever I can to protect him.’

Severus sat back, lacing his fingers together as though he were embarking on a lecture. ‘As you know, when I took Harry from the Dursleys I had them sign a document that transferred guardianship to me. It didn’t give me official custody, but it sufficed to give me some authority. The Weasleys are prepared to be his official guardians in the event of my death, but I’ve explained that I’d like to use the same document with you, if you are willing.’

For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the carriage clock.

Lupin shook his head. ‘There is no way you’re suggesting having a werewolf take care of your son.’

‘Your lycanthropy is irrelevant.’

‘That’s not an opinion I ever expected to hear from you.’ Lupin stood up, running a hand through his greying hair. Bolting again. He’d made a poor choice, after all.

Lupin clutched the back of his chair. ‘In a few months, I’ll lose my job again and I can’t afford to take care of a child. I have one bedroom in my house and every full moon I’d be a danger to him. I don’t know what point you’re trying to make by forcing me to reject him. This is cruel, even for you.’

‘If I could arrange it so that it was safe and you were financially secure, would you take him?’ He watched carefully for his reaction. Lupin was no occlumens – it would be easy to see if he were lying.

‘Of course I would.’

‘Good,’ Severus replied, satisfied at his sincerity. ‘He’ll stay with the Weasleys at the full moon and my assets will be divided between you and the Weasleys in your favour. My house will go to you; Harry has no need of it. You can do what you will with it, as long as Harry always has a room in your home, even after he reaches seventeen and graduates. There will be enough money that you can stop working if the war requires it. You’re to use the remainder for gifts, pay towards his wedding, nothing ridiculous if he wants to invite half the wizarding world. If he has children-’

‘You’re serious about this,’ Lupin said weakly, lowering himself into the chair.

‘We are at war and the Weasleys have enough of their own children to be concerned with. Harry needs someone of his own who’ll care if he starts slipping in his classes or won’t mind waking him up from nightmares five nights a week.

‘If the adoption doesn’t go through, which seems increasingly likely, the arrangement stands, but won’t formally begin until Harry’s seventeenth birthday. I intend to make it clear that you’re to take my position in his life in the interim, to whatever extent I’m permitted a parental role. To that end, I’d like you to be his godfather.’

Lupin stared as though he couldn’t comprehend what he’d asked. Severus watched in horror as the wolf made an abortive attempt to speak. ‘You are absolutely not going to have a breakdown in my office. I have more terms–’

‘Write them down,’ he said hoarsely. ‘But my answer is yes, regardless.’ He cleared his throat. ‘As long as it’s what Harry wants too.’

Severus tried not to let his relief show and inclined his head. ‘I’ll discuss it with him. If he agrees, my intention is to let the Order know of the arrangement as soon as possible.’

Lupin nodded absently, staring at the ingredient jars lined up on the walls. ‘I came here to suggest that we be friends,’ he said, just as Severus opened his mouth to pointedly suggest he leave.

Severus’ lip curled. There was a dearth of suitable options for Harry which led to Lupin being the only reasonable choice of guardian, but that didn’t mean he liked the man. Far from it.

‘Well, I could be your friend and you could treat me as you would an acquaintance,’ he continued in the face of Severus’ distaste. ‘A friend might be able to point out when you’re spreading yourself too thin or offer a different perspective without you jumping down their throat.’

Severus glared. ‘And that’s what you want from the arrangement? Freedom to critique my parenting?’

‘I want to be able to look out for you and have you take it in the spirit it’s intended. It’s no good for Harry if you’re completely worn out. Think about it, at least, for his sake.’

Lupin stood. ‘One last thing. About Sirius.’

‘You’re testing the bounds of this arrangement already,’ he growled.

‘I was pushing too much. It’s up to Harry if he sees his godfather and he hasn’t asked. But wouldn’t it be better if, when he is ready, you’re already on better terms with Sirius? Harry will forgive him eventually and if you two can’t get along, it will be Harry who gets hurt again. At the next Order meeting you could tell Sirius how Harry’s getting on yourself, that would be something.’

‘Are you done?’ Severus demanded.

Lupin smiled faintly. ‘Yes. Good luck with the board meeting.’

H.P.

The marauder’s map was satisfyingly steady in Harry’s hands, even though he didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night. He hadn’t revisited the graveyard, so his throat wasn’t raw from screaming, but seeing Dobby die again was worse. He’d been trapped half-awake in a state of crushing guilt and anticipation of this morning’s prank.

Ron had stuck to his word, slipping away with him from the dining hall to hide behind a tapestry of Helga Hufflepuff on the first floor, even though it meant having a meagre breakfast of dry toast. Hermione had pointedly refused to be involved in any prank, especially one set by the twins, and had gone to the library in protest.

The corridors were crowded with students headed to the first class of the day, their black dots blurring together and overlapping on the map. Ron peered out from behind the tapestry, muttering under his breath as a cluster of Durmstrang students passed by. Harry watched as a steady stream of dots followed them into the library, doubtless more interested in Viktor Krum than any book. Hermione was going to be annoyed.

‘Do you think they had anything to do with the poisoning?’ Ron whispered around a mouthful of toast. Harry nudged the cloth aside, but there were no Slytherins in sight. Ron was still staring towards the library. His bad mood probably had a lot more to do with the fact that Hermione was about to be chatted up by Krum than real concern that a Durmstrang student was the poisoner.

‘Krum and his friends don’t seem all that chummy with Malfoy.’ He bit his tongue rather than point out that seeing as Krum fancied Hermione, it didn’t seem like he’d see eye to eye with most of the Slytherins at all.

Harry drew his attention back to the map. He had to stay focused. Fred’s dot was on the third floor and George’s in the dungeon – the twins had been conspicuously absent from breakfast. All they were waiting for now was the signal to start, and as soon as Lucius Malfoy or Nott arrived, they could have it.

The castle grounds were near empty, just Madam Hooch heading towards the quidditch pitch and Hagrid towards his cabin.

Finally, a small black dot appeared on the edge of the map. Lucius Malfoy. A wave of anger washed from head to foot as he read the name and his fingers tightened on the edges of the parchment, creasing it. He yanked on the back of Ron’s robes. ‘He’s here.’

‘I’m not looking forward to this. If they’ve knocked up something big in one night, it could be a disaster.’

Harry grunted in acknowledgement. The twins could get in a lot of trouble, and it’d be all his fault. The knot of guilt that hadn’t shifted since this morning twisted again. But he didn’t have a choice – Snape couldn’t get suspended. Suspension meant no adoption and he wasn’t going to lose out on having a family, not when it was within reach.

Harry stuffed the map into his pocket and stepped out from behind the tapestry, falling into step with a group of Ravenclaws as he made his way up to the third floor. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ron head down to the dungeons.

Beyond the statue of the hump-backed witch, a flash of red hair poked out behind a suit of armour.

‘They’re starting to arrive. Malfoy’s here at least,’ Harry said, leaning against the wall beside it.

Fred grinned widely. ‘Not for long. We’ve used our entire stash and we’ve…ah… enhanced them. We had to skip breakfast to do it, but we’ve covered every floor of the castle. The board won’t be meeting here or anywhere else at Hogwarts, as you requested. I can’t recommend the bubble head charm strongly enough.’ A sphere appeared over his face, distorting his features.

Harry shook his head. ‘It’d be a dead giveaway. I’ll hold my breath.’

‘Trust me, if you’re still in the castle when you next inhale, you won’t be far enough away. They’ve never made dungbombs this strong.’

Fred raised his wand and a putrid smoke began to wheeze from the coat of arms. Clever, hiding them in there where Mrs Norris wouldn’t find them.

Harry fought his instincts to run, holding his breath as he made his way to transfiguration like nothing was out of the ordinary, so the cries reached him before the smell. A mixture of confusion, disgust and alarm echoed up and down the stairs and then along the corridors. Students scattered into classrooms, covering their mouths and noses with their elbows or handfuls of robes.

When it hit, tears sprang into his eyes and he gagged, joining the students thronging to the stairs as they made a break for fresh air. Well, there was no reason not to run now.

S.S.

Severus scowled from within a translucent sphere, unaffected by the foul stench sweeping through the castle. He’d had no intention of letting two Death Eaters roam freely about the castle, not when one had managed to kidnap his son from right under their noses only weeks earlier. It had been a fortuitous position. When the first wave of dungbombs hit, he was mercifully close to fresh air. It was the work of a moment to cast a personal protection spell for a skilled enough wizard, but that ruled out more than three quarters of the castle, who were stampeding towards the main entrance, clutching their stomachs and noses.

‘To the quidditch pitch,’ Flitwick squeaked from the top of the entrance hall stairs, his grey hair floating serenely in his conjured bubble, in complete contrast to the pandemonium in the castle.

‘Merlin, what kind of school is Dumbledore running?’ Lucius demanded, lifting his cane aside as students rushed past. Severus took an inordinate amount of pleasure in watching as the smell reached him; his pale skin took on a satisfying green hue.

Lucius hesitated at the threshold, but the stench had an almost physical quality. Unprotected, the senses battled to be away from it, and he found his steps forward rebuffed by his sense of self-preservation.

‘Too much of a coward to face the board,’ he said, his expression resembling Narcissa as he chose to forgo the indignity of the bubble head charm to sneer at Severus.

‘Hundreds of students in a school of magic, accidents are bound to happen,’ he replied, feigning indifference as he crooked a finger to summon a Slytherin prefect, instructing them to search the dungeons for disoriented students. When the disgruntled student had left to follow his instructions, he turned back to Malfoy. ‘You’re welcome to go to the headmaster’s office to wait, although it will be some time until all the students are charmed and we can begin the decontamination.’

‘If you think you can avoid scrutiny by forcing a delay-’

‘There will be no delay,’ Severus replied firmly. ‘The aurors will be called in today to begin their investigation with my full co-operation.’

A flicker of something more than disgust crossed his face. Surprise, not concern like Nott had displayed.

‘And how will that look to the adoption authorities?’ Of course, Lucius would think he’s won either way. If the purpose was to smear Severus, an investigation would serve in the short term, but the adoption process was slow. He would have to hope that the authorities would wait for the outcome of the investigation. A suspension without finding the real culprit would do the most damage to his application, but that meant sacrificing the idiot who smashed the jar. Expulsion and a criminal record would only lead them closer to the Dark Lord. Another Death Eater was the last thing they needed.

‘It will look thorough and unbiased,’ he returned coolly. Overwhelmed by the odour emanating from the castle, Lucius turned on his heel, his cane cracking sharply against the ground.

‘Gather in your houses on the quidditch pitch,’ Severus intoned, casting sonorus as he joined the search for stray students. This was beyond any dungbomb he’d ever experienced in all his years of teaching. There was nowhere in the castle walls that the smell hadn’t permeated. Even his quarters would be uninhabitable without decontamination.

He grimaced as a Hufflepuff with a weak constitution retched, stepping neatly aside while the headmaster swooped in with an air freshening charm, guiding them gently towards the entrance hall.

‘Quite interesting timing,’ Albus remarked as he fell into step with Severus. With a quick wave of his wand, the glass vanished from the windows, letting chill air sweep through the corridors.

‘Unfortunate,’ Severus disagreed. ‘I could have pressed Nott at the meeting and countered his claims against me. I’d have preferred the aurors to remain a bluff.’

‘The aurors will be able to rule you out swiftly. I don’t think it will unduly prejudice your application.’

‘And what about my students? Black tried to murder me, and you didn’t call the aurors. Even now, you embrace him as one of your own. How different things turn out for children sorted into the right house,’ he said bitterly.

‘You wouldn’t propose to protect your students at Harry’s expense.’

‘It was a clumsy attempt to discredit me, not an assault on my son.' How dare the headmaster question his loyalty to Harry. ‘I still have a duty to my students, and it was you who tasked me with turning them from a future serving the Dark Lord.’

‘If you believe you know who the culprit is-’

‘I have no proof,’ Severus interrupted. ‘I cannot call off Nott or the board without evidence.’

The headmaster was frustratingly calm as he dispelled the corridors. ‘Have you learnt anything from your interviews with your students?’

‘Only which have the most disdain for their head of house. I take it the review of the owl post hasn’t yielded anything useful either?’

‘Not yet.’

Minerva hailed them from the seventh floor, declaring it free of students and ready for decontamination. Severus cast a warming charm as a few sprinkles of snow drifted through the window.

‘This is quite impressive spell work. Some of the ghosts are claiming they can smell it,’ she said. Of course she would think the Weasley twins’ mischief was impressive. Left unchecked the headmaster and Minerva might well start handing out points.

‘Those two should be expelled,’ Severus snarled. He had spent a good portion of the night planning just how he would get Nott to back down from the threat of suspension while avoiding calling the aurors, and all for nothing. His adoption application was in jeopardy, just as the culprit had intended, and he would lose one of his students that much sooner to the Dark Lord, and all for their idea of fun.

‘Now, now. We shouldn’t make accusations without evidence,’ the headmaster chided lightly, and Severus gnashed his teeth together to keep from saying something he might regret. The headmaster could pull strings so that the right aurors investigated the poisoning, so alienating him completely was out of the question.

Minerva headed towards the tower and Severus whirled away to begin dispelling the dungeons, but the headmaster had one more parting question. ‘Did you tell Harry about the board meeting?’

‘Of course not. He hardly needs any more to worry about.’

The students were none the wiser about the arrival of the aurors, too wrapped up in the chaos of the dungbomb decontamination to notice anything else. 

Severus gestured for Kingsley and Tonks to enter his office, some of the tension receding from his shoulders at the sight of two Order members. The headmaster had done well.

Kingsley took the fragments of jar and what remained of the bloodroot for testing. Of course, the headmaster could have tested it himself, but it wasn’t worth Nott and Malfoy’s inevitable accusations of foul play, even if it confirmed the poisoner sooner.

Severus waved his wand and a list of his recent orders appeared on his desk. Tonks raised an eyebrow as she skimmed the ingredients list for Snape’s personal stores. ‘Some of these ingredients aren’t going to look good,’ she said. Severus bit his tongue to stop the sharp retort from spilling from his lips. Was she chewing gum in his classroom?

‘I’ll leave it to you to alter the records as you see fit,’ he said stiffly. ‘You’ll notice there’s no bloodroot.’

‘Angel’s Trumpet isn’t known for its healing properties either.’

‘I’m brewing for the Order, not the infirmary. I left the order unedited for the purposes of trust, but there are competent enough brewers among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. I wouldn’t like to think of what they’d do with this information. I would suggest we redact the less… common ingredients.’

Kingsley held his hand out for the order and made swift work of editing the list. ‘Your memory of the event would be helpful.’

Severus had the pensieve ready and siphoned the memory into the basin without remark. When the two Order members plunged into the basin and he was alone, Albus’ final question resurfaced in his mind. Did you tell Harry about the board meeting?

That question lingered in his head for the rest of the day, all through decontamination and an afternoon of intensely uncomfortable lessons. The choice had been stale air or freezing dungeons and the latter had won out. Harry simply couldn’t have found out about the board meeting when it was at such short notice. The timing of the prank had to have been coincidental.

Still, he couldn’t help but ask as soon as Harry arrived for his evening training session, narrowing his eyes as the portrait opened to allow more of the putrid air into his freshly decontaminated quarters. ‘Am I going to find out you had anything to do with that stunt?’

‘Why would I set dungbombs off in the castle?’ he replied, heading straight to the kitchen and fetching a glass of water. Innocently thirsty or avoiding eye contact?

‘You didn’t answer the question,’ he said, dodging Harry’s in turn, but if he really didn’t know about the meeting, he certainly wasn’t intending to tell him there was a chance he could have been suspended.

‘How come you’re accusing me, but when it’s Draco poisoning students we can’t throw around wild accusations?’

Severus rolled his eyes. Harry’s obsession with Draco rears its head once more. ‘Because the repercussions of accusing the wrong student may well be that the poisoner remains at large.’

Harry made an irritating scoffing noise and downed his drink. ‘Are we going then?’ he asked impatiently. Severus bit his tongue rather than escalate. Teenagers were prone to bouts of attitude on the best of days, but those had been few and far between of late. He narrowed his eyes, taking a careful look at his son. There were shadows beneath his eyes. Perhaps sleeping in the tower was enough to alleviate his nightmares, but not to allow him to rest easily. An evening of physical exertion would help with that, at least.

‘We’re waiting for Lupin,’ he answered finally. He was cursed to be plagued all day by Gryffindors. ‘Your suggestion of defending against both of us had merit.’ He gestured for him to sit. ‘And I have something to discuss with you.’

Harry threw himself back down, eyeing him suspiciously, as though he thought he was in for a telling off. Severus tapped his fingers on the back of the sofa as he considered how best to proceed. ‘Your parents decided what would happen to you in the event of their deaths. If the adoption application proceeds successfully, I’ll be required to make similar official arrangements, and if the application is unsuccessful, I’d like to make somewhat unofficial arrangements.’

‘You’re not going to die though. You can’t be a spy anymore.’

‘It’s part of the process,’ Severus replied. Pointing out that there was, in fact, a good deal of risk associated with being Harry Potter’s prospective parent and a traitor wasn’t going to be conducive to the conversation. ‘There are not many Order members you have a close relationship with who the Ministry would allow me to nominate as your guardian, but the Weasleys were pleased to be asked.’

‘I thought no one else could adopt me. Last summer you tried to find other people and no one else could take me.’

‘We’ve publicly emancipated you from your aunt and uncle and we’re at war. The situation has changed. The headmaster cannot argue that you would be best protected with your relatives.’

‘So, if something happens to you, I go to the Weasleys,’ Harry summarised. He didn’t look displeased by the notion.

‘Legally,’ he clarified. ‘However, my preference would be for Lupin to take over as your primary caregiver. You would stay with the Weasleys around the full moon, and they would relinquish parental decisions to him.’

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You want me to go to Remus? You don’t even like him.’

‘You like him is rather the point. He’s an Order member but is willing to stand up to the headmaster where your wellbeing is concerned, he’s capable of defending you, and he’s aware of the details of your childhood.’ He ticked off each point on his fingers. ‘Not only that, but he has demonstrated a willingness to prioritise your needs over his own and he can give you his full attention. I don’t doubt the Weasleys can provide a loving home, but I will not leave you to be lost amongst seven other children.’

Harry didn’t meet his eyes and Severus was starkly reminded of his attitude the last time they had discussed prospective parents. That damned list. ‘I have Sirius,’ he muttered, picking at the frayed edge of the sofa.

It was Severus’ turn to be incredulous. ‘A man you don’t feel emotionally secure enough to speak to. I was under the impression that you would be pleased at the choice. Last week you were eager to involve Lupin in your training.’

‘Yeah, and last week you were in a fight with him. I don’t want to live with someone you had to bully into taking me in.’

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, that’s what it looked like. ‘I discussed the matter with him yesterday, not last week. I know very well the damage wrought by forcing you onto people who did not want you.

‘He did point out that his lycanthropy and his financial situation were barriers to him taking you in. The issue of lycanthropy has been dealt with to my satisfaction with the Weasleys taking you once a month and my death will solve the other. My house and most of my money will go to him so that he can stop working for as long as the war requires to protect you. I don’t think I need to reassure you that he didn’t agree for the financial benefits.’

Harry’s shoulders relaxed minutely. ‘I know he’s not like that. So, he said yeah?’

‘Yes,’ Severus replied impatiently. ‘I also took the liberty of asking him to be your godfather. He’s here often enough that the title seems warranted.’

Harry screwed up his face in confusion. ‘I thought you couldn’t write his name on your forms.’

‘Your parents chose Black to be your godfather and as your prospective new parent, I’m choosing Lupin. We discussed that I’ll be your father regardless of the outcome with the Ministry. He can be your godfather if you both agree to it. Muggle tradition seems to dictate that you can have as many godparents as you please,’ he said, waving a hand vaguely.

‘You can’t just say someone’s a godparent and make it true. You have to promise a bunch of stuff in front of people and it gets written down.’

Severus rolled his eyes. ‘He’s promised to take you in if I die which I consider to be enough. Is this arrangement to your liking?’

‘Not the bit about you dying but I want Remus to be my godfather. If he liked the idea.’ The pair of them had remarkably similar reactions to the suggestion of Lupin becoming Harry’s godfather. Both seemed hesitant to believe that they were wanted.

‘You’re aware that he hasn’t been spending time with you since last summer as a favour for me? In any event, you can discuss it with him when he arrives.’

H.P.

Snape had asked Remus to be his godfather. Half the time he didn’t bother to call him by his name and now he wants him to be his actual godfather. If he asked Snape if he’d lost his mind, he might take it back, so now he was stuck wondering what had gotten into his dad.

‘Are you brewing?’ Remus asked Snape as soon as he stepped out of the floo, wrinkling his nose. He looked more tired than normal, or it could be that his clothes were shabbier, hanging more loosely from his frame. Maybe werewolves had a stronger sense of smell. It was probably rude to ask.

‘Something noxious in my quarters? Hardly,’ Snape replied with only a thin veneer of contempt. ‘You have the Weasley twins to thank for the ambience. You should be grateful you weren’t here this morning.’

‘That long ago and you still can’t get rid of it?’ His eyebrows flew up, and Harry could tell he was impressed. Sometimes Remus couldn’t hide that he used to be a marauder.

‘He has, almost. The rest of the castle’s worse,’ Harry replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His dad took the floo pot and made himself scarce, giving Harry a pointed look on his way past that said he wanted him to talk to Remus about the whole godfather thing. Harry cleared his throat. ‘Snape says he asked you to be my godfather. One of my godfathers,’ he corrected. Remus wasn’t replacing Sirius; that wasn’t what he wanted. He just needed more time – once the adoption had gone through, Sirius couldn’t do anything to mess it up and they could hang out again.

‘He did,’ Remus said, nodding slowly. ‘But it’s up to you.’

‘He doesn’t have to spy anymore, so he’s not going to die,’ Harry said firmly. ‘You can be my godfather now though. I’d like that.’

Remus smiled, even looking a little relieved. ‘I would too. As for the other arrangement, he’s in a lot less danger, but he still needs to make plans for what would happen if he were to die.’ He held up a hand to forestall Harry when he opened his mouth to protest. ‘It’s just part of being a parent, and having a plan puts his mind at ease.’

‘He can arrange for whatever, but he’s not going to die.’ It was pointless thinking about it. Snape wasn’t going to spy so he wasn’t going to be killed, so they could write down anything they liked on the ministry form and tell the Order whatever they wanted. Snape was going to be his dad.

‘Ready?’ Snape asked impatiently, reappearing with a replenished pot of floo powder. He’d bet anything he’d been eavesdropping.

They flooed through to the winter house where Snape preferred to carry out his duelling sessions. They needed even more space now that Remus was helping too. Overgrown grass and the melting frost wet his trainers and the bottoms of his jeans. The sun had set, and the only illumination came from the crescent moon and a faint conjured light from the house.

He was going to impress them both tonight. His wand arm was steadier than ever, he’d caught up on his defensive spells and he could hold either of them off in a duel by themselves.

‘As we’ve discussed, the Dark Lord is likely to want to deal with you himself, so if you’re facing multiple attackers their aim will be to capture you. You’re at an advantage tonight as you’re familiar with our duelling styles. Next time you’re attacked, you won’t know who’s under the mask, so it’s imperative you learn to deal with the unknown. Prepare yourself.’ Snape handed something to Remus. It was a flash of white in the darkness and Harry’s stomach flipped.

‘Wait,’ he called, but his shout was drowned out by the cracks of their disapparition. His chest felt tight. Snape wouldn’t give Remus a mask, not after last time. Besides, he didn’t have two of them.

The gnarled branches of the trees at the boundary grasped toward him as he watched for a change in the texture of the darkness. Snape had a way of blending into the shadows until it was too late. Remus was less subtle; he’d hear him before he saw him.

He spun around, his wand aloft, but the white expressionless mask took the air from his lungs and his arm faltered. He was back in the graveyard again. The grass had been wet that day too, the damp had soaked through to the skin as he’d screamed and writhed. He shook his head as his heart began to pound. It was bad enough that he kept revisiting the graveyard in his nightmares, he couldn’t face it when he was awake too. ‘I’m not doing it like this. Take it off.’

A spell shot towards him, the figure moving with his father’s finesse, and he stumbled back. There was another mask shining in the moonlight, it stood still, the black sockets staring. It was just Remus and his dad. Remus and dad, he repeated in his head as he sucked in breath after breath.

The wind rustled and he could hear the laughter again, echoing among the gravestones, all the worse coming from those blank faces. Hot waves of shame coursed through him, and his wand arm began to shake. ‘Dad, I don’t want to do this.’

There was a crack of apparition and a figure appeared directly in front of him, tall and all in black. ‘No, take it off. Take it off.’ He threw his wand on the ground, every breath coming fast and hard. His fingers began to tingle.

‘Severus-’

‘Pick up your wand,’ a low voice growled behind the mask.

‘Fuck off,’ he screamed, the words bursting out before he could think, tearing from his throat with the same wildness as his cries of pain had that night.

Two hands grabbed him tightly on each shoulder and wrenched him around. ‘Look at me. There’s no mask, it’s just me.’ It was Remus, his greying hair ruffled, and his eyes wide. ‘We’re going to sit down.’ He was already partway there, his knees losing their stability as his head began to swim, but Remus’ grip was tight, stopping from dropping unceremoniously onto the grass.

A light blue potion appeared under his nose in his father’s potion-stained fingers. He gripped the vial with a shaking hand that had nothing to do with his tremors and swallowed it in one gulp. The taste was familiar and in just a few seconds the clamp around his chest loosened, and his breathing slowly evened out. The calming potion didn’t numb the shame though, or the anger.

‘It was too soon. We don’t have to practice with the masks,’ Remus said, releasing the bruising grip his arms, but one hand rested on his shoulder, reassuring instead of steadying. Harry resisted the urge to shrug him off and twisted his fingers in the long strands of grass, staring at the thin green loops.

‘We do. All his training will be for nothing if he has a panic attack as soon as he sees a Death Eater. But,’ Snape said, emphasising the word and pausing as though he hoped Harry would finally look at him. He was going to be disappointed. Make that even more disappointed. ‘There might have been a better way of introducing it into your training. Particularly after last time.’

‘What happened last time?’ Remus asked and Harry almost looked up to see the outrage on Snape’s face at the implied criticism.

‘He didn’t hyperventilate. I would hardly have tried it again if he had,’ he snapped.

Snape was right. There was going to be a next time and he would be useless if he fell apart as soon as he saw a mask. But it wasn’t just the mask, it was the people behind them too. He’d felt sick when he’d seen Nott’s dad and so angry at just reading Lucius Malfoy’s name.

Snape dropped the mask he’d been wearing into his lap, and Harry shoved it off, finally looking up to level a dark glare at the Potions Master, who met his gaze unapologetically. Probably pissed off that he’d sworn at him and screamed. And in front of Remus.

‘Hold it,’ he said, waiting until Harry reluctantly complied. ‘You bested the people who wore these masks. I’m training you to defend yourself against them but it’s nothing you haven’t done before.’

‘I wasn’t like this before,’ he muttered. ‘Not after Quirrell or the basilisk or the dementors. It wasn’t even them that night. Voldemort was the one using the unforgivables, but I still feel sick when I see them, the masks or Nott’s dad. You said it would get better but I’m getting weaker.’

‘In a lot of ways what they did was worse,’ Remus said, producing a chocolate bar from one of his pockets and breaking off a line for Harry. ‘For another person, a parent even, to try to hurt a child or stand by and laugh as he was tortured, that’s more frightening than a basilisk doing what a basilisk does.’

Harry took a bite and a comforting warmth spread to the tips of his fingers.

‘It is not a matter of weakness regardless,’ Snape said. ‘I suspect that it is a visceral reminder of the most traumatic event of your life, and if I could make it so that you need never see these masks or those people again, I would. Instead, I have the much more unpleasant task of habituating you to it, which won’t be pleasant for either of us. I apologise for how I have handled it so far. I didn’t appreciate the subtlety required,’ he finished stiffly.

‘S’alright,’ Harry shrugged, pulling at the grass. ‘Sorry for telling you to eff off.’

Snape made a huffing noise that might have been a laugh. ‘Say that to me again in any other circumstance and you’ll be in a world of trouble.’

Harry finished his chocolate, grabbed his wand and stood up. The shaking had gone, and his arm was as steady as it was going to be. ‘Come on. I’m ready to go again.’

H.P.

‘Harry, Harry.’

There were hands on his shoulders, shaking him roughly. The searing pain faded as he came to, his legs knotted in the bedsheets and his pyjamas damp with sweat. He groaned and twisted away, clutching at his sore throat as a blurry redhead came into view.

Damn. Had his silencing charm failed?

‘S’alright,’ he said, shoving his glasses on so that Ron’s anxious face became clear.

Behind him, Neville hovered, biting his lip. ‘Should I get Professor Snape?’

‘It’s fine. It was just a bad dream,’ Harry said roughly, sitting up.

‘We couldn’t hear you screaming, mate. Not until I opened your curtain.’

His stomach sank. They weren’t stupid – it wasn’t going to be long before they figured out he’d been casting a silencing charm the whole time. ‘You don’t want to hear me screaming the place down. It doesn’t matter anyway; I’m fine.’

Ron didn’t look convinced.

‘I have to tell Professor Snape,’ Neville said, his voice small like he didn’t want them to hear.

Harry gaped. The other boy was twisting his fingers together, standing in his too-long pyjama bottoms. ‘You what?’

‘He said I had to tell him if you were having loads of nightmares or if your scar hurt.’

‘He asked you to spy on me?’ Harry clenched his teeth. What the hell happened to trust?

‘He asked me to get him if you needed anything.'

‘I don’t need anything. It was one nightmare.’ He climbed out of bed and spread his arms wide as though to prove he was fine.

‘I’m not going to know if you’re using a silencing charm. He said I was responsible if anything happens,’ Neville replied.

‘He’s just twisting things to get you to spy on me. I can’t believe you’re going to tell on me to Snape.’

The curtains of Dean’s four-poster were thrown open and the other Gryffindor poked his head out. ‘I thought he was your dad.’

‘Mind your own business,’ Ron snapped, but Dean didn’t take any notice.

‘He’s your dad if any of us say anything about him, but he’s back to being Snape if it means you getting into trouble. Why should Neville take the fall for you when Snape’s being a bigger git than ever?’

‘Yeah, well what happened to house loyalty?’ Ron asked before Harry could reply.

‘Ask him that,’ Dean replied, gesturing at Harry. ‘He’s the one getting Snape involved.’ He scooped up his robes and stomped to the bathroom.

‘If you’re putting up a silencing charm, we won’t know to get help,’ Neville said.

‘It was one time. I won’t do it again.’

Ron bit his lip. ‘Won’t you?’

That stung and Ron’s doubt seemed to decide it for Neville. Snape was a sneaky bastard. Neville was still the same boy who’d stood up to them in first year when they went after the stone. He was going to tell because he thought it was the right thing to do, not because he was terrified of Snape.

Potions was the final class of a rotten day and it dragged. Snape wasn’t letting them anywhere near the store cupboard, so they were stuck doing bookwork and watching demonstrations, with the students taking it in turns to carry out the potion’s steps at the front of the class. 

When Snape called Neville up to dice the dandelion stems, the Gryffindor looked as though he might sick up.

Ron made an irritated noise under his breath as Neville made his way to the front.

‘Thought you were on his side,’ Harry muttered.

‘You don’t need a spell in the Tower, but that’s between us Gryffindors. You don’t tell.’

‘Mr Potter, Mr Weasley,’ Snape’s voice rang out sharply. ‘Would you like to lead the remainder of the demonstration? You’ve no doubt got scintillating opinions on this potion’s brewing to share with the rest of the class.’

Sarcastic git. ‘No, sir.’

Ron didn’t bother to echo the reply until Snape narrowed his eyes. He couldn't seem to decide who he was more outraged at, Neville or Snape. That was easy enough for Harry, Neville was just doing what he was told; it was Snape who'd gone and asked him to spy on Harry.

He’d said he could go back to the Tower, hadn’t he? But Snape didn’t trust him. He kept his secrets too – Snape hadn’t said anything about the board meeting or facing suspension. It was alright for Snape to have his secrets, but Harry wasn’t even allowed to manage his own nightmares.

When the class was finally over, Neville hung back, clutching his books to his chest like they might offer some protection. Hermione hovered at the door when she realised Harry and Ron weren’t coming either.

On Snape confused just looked like another variation of angry. He glared at each of them in turn, but Harry could practically see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

'Someone speak or you can make yourselves useful scrubbing the desks. Look at me like that again, Weasley, and you will be doing it all night until they are spotless.'

'I–You said to tell you if–' Neville began, his eyes darting from the Gryffindors to Snape, clearly torn between fear and guilt for completely and utterly dropping Harry in it.

'I'll tell him myself,' Harry interrupted impatiently. He hardly wanted everyone there if he and Snape were going to argue again.

'Longbottom, speak. You,' he rounded on Harry, 'be quiet.'

'I- You said to-to tell you if Harry’s been having nightmares,' Neville said in a voice so small it was practically a whisper.

‘How often?’

‘I don’t know. I only found out now,’ Neville replied, sending Harry a silent look of apology.

Snape stilled. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he asked, his voice dangerously low.

‘I can tell him myself,’ Harry repeated.

‘The rest of you, out,' Snape erupted, his expression becoming thunderous. ‘Out,’ he repeated, slamming the door open with his wand.

Neville squeaked with fear and even Harry took a step back.

Ron gave Harry a doubtful look as Snape shut the door in his face, locking it with a charm.

‘Tell me what? What did you do?’

He wasn't the only one who was angry. 'You asked my friends to spy on me?' Harry’s own tone was coloured by a mix of incredulity and indignation.

‘Do I have to drag Longbottom back in here? What did you do?’

Harry swallowed. ‘I used a silencing charm.’

Snape’s reaction was almost imperceptible, but his back went rigid. The quiet, deliberate tone he spoke with next was somehow filled with more anger and disappointment than Harry had ever heard from him. 'I suggest you think through every single word you utter because you are in more trouble than you can imagine. In fact, if I were you, I would keep my mouth shut until invited to speak.'

'I know you're angry–'

'You think I'm angry? I'm disgusted. I allowed you back to your dormitory against my better judgement and at your request because I thought you were mature enough to be honest with me. After what you have done you have the gall to criticise me? I had to explain to one of your little friends that they need to summon me immediately in the event that you are tortured through your scar. You remember that, do you? You remember the pain you experienced when the Dark Lord had not yet even returned? You remember how you screamed, how you scratched at yourself until you bled? Now that he is back, you tell me how much worse you expect the torture to be. You think nerve damage is the worst he can do to you?'

Harry took a tremulous breath. 'It wasn't for that; I just used it for the nightmares.'

'It didn't occur to you that when you suffer nightmares is when your mind is most vulnerable? And if he broke through your shields and you've got your silencing charm up, how long could he torture you for? How long?’ he barked when Harry didn’t immediately answer.

'Hours,' he whispered.

'He could torture you for hours and we've already surmised that the pain will be far more extreme than during your previous attacks, have we not? Have. We. Not?'

'Yes, sir.' His answer was almost inaudible.

'Tell me then, what would happen if you were tortured for hours through your scar by the Dark Lord at the height of his powers?'

'It would hurt a lot.' That answer did nothing to satisfy Snape and Harry looked down at his hands as they twitched with one of the spasms he despised. 'I might hurt myself or get more nerve damage.'

'You aren't done yet,' Snape snapped. 'This is what it's like to think things through and you aren't done. What else?'

'I- I don't...' Harry felt a shiver course through him as he recalled Voldemort taunts, telling him he could lose his mind through torture. Neville had told him that his parents had been tortured so much that they weren’t themselves anymore. 'I could go mad and maybe, uh, die.'

'Yes, you could die. Your heart could stop beating before we knew you needed help. You could choke on your vomit. You could have a fit and break your neck. Or I could have a son who doesn't know who he is. I could have to quit my job and take care of you full time because you can’t take care of your own basic needs. Don't you look down, you look at me. Explain to me what you were thinking from the very beginning. Now.'

Harry gaped silently, hating the look on Snape's face. He wished he were anywhere but there. 'I– I asked to go back to the dormitories because–'

'I said look at me and tell me,' Snape interrupted.

'I wanted my friends back and I- I was having nightmares every night I didn't take the potion. I couldn't use a silencing charm at home because you'd notice.'

'You do not need a silencing charm at home,' Snape returned furiously. Harry tried to stop his breathing coming out in irregular gasps that only made it more obvious he was trying not to cry. 'Why did you want to use a silencing charm at home?'

Harry made two abortive attempts to speak and when he did get the words out, tears spilled down his cheeks. 'You were waking me up three or four nights a week.'

Snape shook his head slightly and stared down at him as if he were some creature that he could not fathom. Harry looked away, his chest constricting tightly with an awful mixture of guilt and shame. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, staring in the vague direction of Snape's shoes.

'You are moving back to my quarters until I deem you well enough and trustworthy enough to sleep in the dormitories. You are grounded and will return home straight after dinner every weeknight. There will be no Hogsmeade weekends for you and I will be confiscating your invisibility cloak to ensure that my rules are adhered to as I obviously cannot trust your word.' Snape moved so that he loomed over him. 'If I ever find out that you have cast that spell on yourself again, I will confiscate your wand and you will live in my quarters like a muggle. Do I need to drill that any further into your thick skull?'

S.S.

He felt sick, foul-tasting bile in his throat, stomach churningly sick. Waves of hot and cold coursed through him from head to toe. Harry was in his room, but he wasn’t safe. How could he ever be safe when he refused to learn?

He’d tried everything: punishments, detention, yelling, essays, nothing worked. Nothing made Harry think for one moment about his safety. He was going to lose him. He couldn’t even keep Harry safe while he slept let alone when he was gallivanting around the castle fighting dementors and basilisks.

He snatched up the floo pot. He was desperate.

'Lupin, I’m coming through,' he announced to the empty study, loud enough that he should hear it if he were in the next room.

The other man appeared suddenly in the doorway, doing nothing to hide his surprise.

'Now?'

'Obviously now,' he snapped.

'You can come through but-'

Severus didn't bother waiting for him to finish and retreated from the fire. He tossed down the floo powder and stepped through, surprised to see another figure waiting behind Lupin. An unwelcome figure.

'Ah, I was about to say that Sirius is here,' Lupin said looking between the two men. 'Is this about Harry?'

Severus glared at the idiotic question. Why else would he be there if it wasn't about Harry? His own judgement had proven to be inadequate on more than one occasion and this was not a situation in which he could afford the slightest error.

'Come in.' Lupin led the way to the kitchen, tapping the kettle to set it to boil. 'Is Harry okay?'

'He is not in any immediate danger,' he ground out through gritted teeth. He was already on edge and Black's presence was doing nothing for his temper.

Lupin waved an irritated hand at Black and the other man settled himself into one of his aged kitchen chairs. Black glared across the room but kept whatever immature thoughts he had to himself, for once. Severus had no intention of distracting himself with a screaming match and turned away, having to satisfy himself with pretending the mutt wasn't in the room.

He didn't sit, he was too agitated to be still and set to pacing back and forth across the room.

'Longbottom has informed me that Harry has been casting a silencing charm on himself at night.'

'Ah.' Lupin winced slightly. 'Have you spoken to Harry already?'

'Yes.'

'Ah,' he said again, and Severus stopped pacing to round on him.

'Do you have anything more than one syllable exclamations to contribute or am I wasting my breath?'

'A bit more to go on might help. What did he say when you- er- spoke to him?'

'He didn't think it was important; he didn't think about the consequences. It didn't cross his stupid little mind that the Dark Lord could have attacked him through his scar. The manipulative little twit told me that he thought he would sleep better in his dormitories than in his room.'

'The kid's got friends, he's not going to want to be stuck in the dungeons while his mates are all up in the Tower,' Black said.

Severus whipped around where he stood, seeing red. 'You understand why sleeping up in that tower is worth the risk that he'll be tortured to death through his scar with no one knowing he needed help? Maybe I'm over-reacting; he might not die, he might just significantly worsen his muscle condition, he could just break his spine and become paralysed or he might just lose his mind.'

'We get the picture,' Lupin interrupted, his voice irritatingly calm. 'Was that his explanation? He wanted to go back to the Tower?'

'Yes, and some rubbish about not waking me with his nightmares.'

'You've punished him I take it?'

'He's moving back to my quarters, he's grounded, I'm taking his invisibility cloak and he's not going to Hogsmeade.'

'You going to take away the air he breathes too?' Black asked.

'He risked his life without a second thought. I cannot trust him to take the threat against his life seriously. I can't even trust that he would put his life and sanity above mildly inconveniencing me. What am I supposed to do? This cannot happen again, nothing like this can ever happen again. Well?' He looked between the two men.

Lupin pulled a battered mug out of the cupboard and poured him a cup of tea. ‘Before Hogwarts, Harry spent all the childhood he can remember being taught that he was worth less than everyone else. Then he came to Hogwarts and he’s famous for being the Boy-Who-Lived and he gets praise for stopping Quirrell and saving a student from a basilisk. In effect, for being heroic and, well, selfless.’

Severus needed no reminder that the headmaster had no problem reinforcing Harry’s propensity to sacrifice his life or his safety.

Severus sat, finally. 'I know all this, and I have explained to him that he should never have been put in a position to do those things. He wrote me an essay after the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup, but it doesn’t sink in.'

‘An essay isn’t going to change the way he thinks about himself. I’m guessing from the way you came here that you gave him quite a thorough telling off?’ Lupin asked, joining them at the table.

‘For putting his life in danger for the sake of not disturbing my sleep? Yes, I told him off. He has to learn.’ The smell of the tea was fortifying. He reflexively curled his fingers around the mug, soaking up the warmth.

‘He has learned,’ Lupin insisted gently. ‘He’s spent a decade learning that he’s worthless and then another three learning that he’ll be praised for putting that into practice. I think you’re expecting too much of him and of yourself if you think you can change what he spent fourteen years having drilled into him in the few months he’s lived with you.’

‘I know what he’s been through. Understanding isn’t going to stop the Dark Lord from torturing him through his scar. I need to make him consider his own safety before he makes another idiotic decision.’

‘I don’t think you can, or at least not as quickly as you need to.’ Lupin hesitated. ‘Someone qualified might have a chance at helping him though.’

'A therapist.' Why didn't he consider a professional before? Harry's issues weren't minor by any means and if he wouldn't even speak to Severus... ‘This was useful.’ More than useful. This was worth having made Lupin Harry’s godfather.

‘Snape,’ Black said as Severus stood to take his leave. ‘This war could go on for a while. You train with him, you teach him, you’re always punishing him, is he going to look back and tell his children that he treasures the memory of you dressing up as a Death Eater when he was so traumatised he could barely sleep at night?’

‘You know nothing about what Harry needs,’ he hissed.

‘He needs more than lessons and punishments. He’s always in trouble, and he’ll always be in danger. When is the good part of this adoption?’

H.P.

He woke with a start and a throat sore from screaming. His room was almost pitch black and he lay perfectly still, trying to work out why his senses were still telling him that something was wrong. It took a good twenty seconds before it hit him that it was still dark, and he was alone. There wasn't even the sound of Snape gathering his dressing gown or dropping his book and hurrying across his quarters. It was completely silent.

Of course, he wasn't coming; why would he when Harry had made it perfectly clear that he would rather be tortured to death or insanity than have Snape's help? He'd expect him to deal with it by himself like he'd wanted to with the charm in the dormitories. No doubt he'd help him if he was being tortured but if it was just a nightmare like every night when he saw Dobby die again and again or when he felt like he was still being crucioed over and over and Voldemort caught Snape and he tortured him too and he died like his mum and dad and he was in a great pool of blood and his eyes were open and staring and empty...

He took in a great shuddering breath, his eyes wet and burning. He was disgusted with him, that's what he'd said, disgusted. He probably didn't even want to adopt him anymore, not some child he was disgusted with and disappointed in. He deserved to have to deal with these nightmares alone now, but knowing it was what he deserved and it was all his fault didn't make it any better. It just made everything hurt more because his apology hadn't fixed anything.

At the feel of a sudden pressure on his back Harry twisted and lashed out in a panic. Snape caught his arm easily but with a scowl. He waved the lights on with his wand. 'It was a dream, you are home, you are safe. It is over.' Snape scowled more deeply when he caught sight of Harry in the light and stared at him as if he was a potion he couldn't get quite the right shade. 'It is over,' he repeated.

Harry nodded jerkily to show he understood, and Snape let go of his arm to hand him a glass of water. 'Worse dreams than usual?' he asked, still regarding Harry carefully. He gave an awkward shoulder twitch in reply as he drained his glass. Snape took it out of his grip, knowing his co-ordination and movement was worse at night. 'Do you wish to discuss it?'

Harry frowned, wondering why he was bothering to act normal now. 'I can occlude in a bit, you can–' he looked at Snape anew, taking in his robes and shoes. 'You're going out?'

'I've just come in.'

'Oh.'

Snape sighed and shook his head slowly and not a little tiredly. 'I cannot fathom how your mind works.' He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture which was a sure signal that the man was stressed. 'I did not think that you would sleep so early, and I meant to be back before now. I have no intention of using your nightmares to punish you.'

'I didn't say you would.'

'You thought that was what I was doing. You thought that I would listen to you scream and cry and abandon you to it.'

Harry stared at the criss-crossing pattern on his duvet. 'I thought you reckoned I deserved it because of the charm. I pretty much asked for it.'

'I do not know if you realise how insulting that is. Show me that you can occlude and I will leave you to read. We can talk in the morning when you are... more yourself.' Harry figured that must be Snape code for less distraught. 

Snape tapped his fingers lightly on the kitchen table as if he had been waiting a good deal of time for Harry to join him for breakfast.

'Hands,' he barked when Harry twisted them tightly behind his back. It was a habit he despised and he had no end of commentary about the damage Harry would do to his joints. He knew it was more that Snape didn't like to see such an obvious physical sign that he was self-conscious. He dropped into his seat and winced as he put them on the table.

'Explain to me again exactly what went through your imbecilic mind when you cast that charm.'

'We talked about it yesterday and you've already punished me-'

Severus cut him off abruptly. 'This is not an issue that we visit once and then put aside as if it is over and done with, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with punishment. I don't believe you understand quite how serious this is.'

'I do,' Harry insisted. 'I understand about how I could have died or ended up in St Mungo's. I didn't think, okay? I know it's not an excuse but it's just how it is.'

'You didn't think. So, not at any moment did it cross your mind that you were putting yourself in danger? Not even for a second? Not even knowing that every night after you had a nightmare, I made sure you were occluding before allowing you back to sleep?'

'I just figured it would probably be fine,' Harry shrugged. It was the truth but evidently not what Snape wanted to hear.

'You thought it was a gamble worth making?' he asked, his voice so low and dangerous it was practically a hiss.

'Not consciously,' Harry replied, looking down at the table and picking at the edge of the wood. 'I didn't actually think about it and then decide.'

'I want to understand what decision-making process you went through. So, explain exactly what went through your head.'

'I did already. My friends still don't like this,' he gestured vaguely between them. 'It's making things difficult, so I thought that if I could go back to the dormitories they would see that things weren't really different just because you– because of the guardianship. And it wasn't just that. I wake you up at least three nights a week...'

'You're telling me that in a list of disturbing my sleep for half an hour or so during the night three times a week, your friends wanting you back in the dormitory and your life and sanity, that the latter, in your mind, automatically takes lowest priority?'

He felt his face flood with heat. 'I'm sorry, all right? I didn't think about it; I just didn't want to wake everyone up screaming every night and I thought it would make everyone happier.'

'Ignoring the danger to your physical and mental health, you thought everyone would be happier if you cast a silencing charm on yourself while you endured horrendous nightmares at least three nights a week? That's what you thought?'

'Stop looking at me like I'm mental. You wouldn't like it either if you were a massive bother for everyone.'

'I'm your father; it's my job to look after you,' Snape replied, his voice rough with anger. 'If that means waking you up during the night for the foreseeable future then so be it.'

'They aren't getting better. I'm not getting better. You might as well just leave me to deal with them; they're just going to get worse and I'm going to get more messed up.'

Snape shook his head. 'I have absolutely no intention of leaving you to deal with anything alone. I'm going to organise for you to see someone who can help you.'

Harry narrowed his eyes with suspicion. ‘Help me what?'

Snape leaned back and crossed his arms. That was never a good sign. That meant he wanted to see how he would react. Snape never said anything good when he did that. 'There are people who know a good deal about trauma.'

'Oh, God,’ Harry exclaimed with dread. ‘I'm not going to St Mungo's. I'm not mad.'

'I know you're not mad and I'm not talking about St Mungo's. There are people who are qualified to help you deal with trauma and the associated issues, the nightmares, the stress. You need someone who might be able to persuade you that your health and safety does not come last, and I am not getting through to you.'

Harry shook his head, pushing himself away from the table. 'No, I know about looking after myself; it's you who's seeing it wrong. Normal people don't have to think about attempted murder when they go to the Quidditch World Cup or when they go to school or in their sleep, and sometimes I mess up, but it's not because I'm mental.'

'That is reason alone to speak to someone, is it not?' Snape said, his voice irritatingly calm. He only did that when he'd gone and decided he was right and as far as he was concerned that was that. 'You deal with a ridiculous amount of stress for anyone, let alone a fourteen-year-old child. And there is more that weighs on your mind than just the Dark Lord. You have had a dramatic shift in familial circumstances that is difficult enough even if we did not factor in the fact that it is me who is adopting you. It goes without saying that I want you to talk about the Dursleys.'

'I'm not with the Dursleys, so problem solved. Besides, you said I could talk to you.’

'You don't talk to me about it. You refuse every single time it comes up. I'm going to arrange for you to meet with a therapist.'

'No.' He punctuated his assertion with a firm shake of his head.

'I'm not giving you a choice,' Snape said, getting to his feet as though that was it and the conversation was over.

'You can't make me. I'm not even adopted yet.’

Snape paused then and then he slowly dropped his hands flat onto the table and leant towards Harry. The look on his face was fierce. 'I can't force you to speak when you're in the room with them, but you'll damn well sit there every hour I pay for. You do not get to pick and choose what aspects of adoption you want. Don't you dare try to use the fact that the adoption has not been finalised against me.’