Antiquity's Corollary by gonnabefamous
Past Featured StorySummary: At Lily's request, Albus Dumbledore has kept a secret from Severus Snape for 17 years. When Dumbledore learns that this secret plays a vital role in the war, however, it is Snape who is left to deal with the consequences. As Harry's true parentage is revealed, both his and Snape's futures become uncertain. The two must learn to work together in order to survive. PreHBP.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dumbledore, Ginny, Hermione, Ron
Snape Flavour: Canon Snape
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Family
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 58 Completed: No Word count: 401010 Read: 379386 Published: 28 Jun 2005 Updated: 11 Oct 2015
Affirmation by gonnabefamous

Chapter 46

Affirmation

xxx

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table rearranging his food around his plate as he contemplated the coming day. Involuntarily, his gaze kept flickering to the head table; his father was conspicuously absent from breakfast. Harry heaved a sigh and rested his head on his knuckles.

Harry's frustration with his father had not faded with a night's sleep; what had occurred was the blossoming of a new kind of anxiety, a question of what he might do when he saw his father again. They had not had a fight. His Father had not been unduly harsh. However, his lack of concern for what Harry saw as a subject requiring a great deal of attention was unnerving. Harry could not shake the thought that when he next saw the man, he would not know what to say.

He wanted to tell him to bugger off.

Except that he valued his life.

Without ever deciding to, Harry huffed in aggravation, shaking his head and throwing his fork down. He looked at the head table again. No Severus.

"Mate, stop thinking about it, you're only working yourself up," Ron said with an assumed air of wisdom that Harry couldn't help but be irritated by. Apparently, Ron got the hint as Harry threw him a look of annoyance; he promptly returned his attention to his breakfast, but not before shrugging his shoulders and looking helplessly at Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione hedged, as though she were testing the waters before continuing.

"Yeah?" Harry replied dispassionately, resuming the chase of his breakfast around the circumference of the plate.

Hermione's eyebrows knit together fretfully, but she gave him a small smile. "He will be here soon, and then you will go talk to him, and you will see that he's not even thinking about what happened last night."

Harry wanted to laugh derisively, but Ron beat him to it. The redhead choked and sputtered for a minute, pounding on his chest to clear his throat of inhaled bits of mash, and then he shook his head emphatically. "No," he said simply, and cleared his throat again. "No. Hermione, have you met Snape?"

"We are acquainted, yes," Hermione said evenly, staring sideways at Ron through narrowed eyes.

"Right, well, Harry, don't listen to her," Ron advised seriously, and Harry had to be amused at Hermione's gasp of indignation. Ignoring her, Ron added needlessly, "She's a girl."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione questioned, color rising into her cheeks.

"Nothing, except you don't know what you're talking about," Ron replied, and Harry thought for a moment that he was about to be socked in the face, when he added, "No offense."

"Ronald, I don't know how in the world you imagine that was not offensive."

"Well, I don't mean it personally," Ron explained, and Harry laughed out loud now. "Just that girls always think the solution's to talk about everything." Ron paused to roll his eyes and look at Harry for affirmation. Harry shrugged. "But, sometimes, you just have to wait for everything to smooth over on its own."

"That's idiotic," Hermione responded confidently, though she didn't offer Harry any more advice. Apparently, she'd endured enough for the moment.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," Harry said as he stared up the table again. "He's still not here."

"It's early," Hermione said, pushing her plate to the side and pulling an essay out of her bag. She began reading it over, chewing her quill absent-mindedly.

"It's rude to do homework at the breakfast table," Ron teased, and winced as Hermione kicked him under the table without even looking up.

Harry shook his head at his friend and finally forced himself to take a bite of his food. "Maybe we should just head to the library," he said as he watched the door for his Father's entrance, starting to feel a twinge of regret; he wished that he could at least see Severus in order to get a gage of how he was feeling.

"You're bonkers," Ron said, taking another biscuit from the middle of the tables.

"Maybe," Harry agreed.

"Harry, why don't you just take a walk down to his office?" Hermione suggested, setting down her quill. "It would be better to get this off your mind now than to go the entire day upset."

Ron rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Maybe," Harry said again, looking down at his plate. He stabbed a piece of breakfast sausage and ate without even tasting it.

"I'll go with you," Hermione offered tentatively. "That way, if he is there and you don't feel like talking to him, I can make some sort of excuse."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said compliantly, knowing deep down that if he didn't face his anxiety now, it would plague him from now until he went to bed.

Harry pushed himself up from the table and Hermione repacked her essay away in her bag. Then, turning to their friend, who was continuing to eat his breakfast as though he hadn't noticed they were leaving, Hermione asked exasperatedly, "Are you coming, Ron?"

"No," Ron said, as though it should be obvious. "Good luck to you two, though."

With a huff, Hermione was already walking away.

"If you don't come, I'm going to hear about it the whole way down there."

"Ah, you'll be fine," Ron said cheerfully. "Tell her I stayed behind to collect your post, or something."

"Ron, I don't get post."

"Still."

Again, Harry shook his head at his friend. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he turned and followed Hermione out of the great hall.

"He is unbelievable," Hermione said to Harry as soon as they were alone, making their way down the stairs to the dungeons. "I don't know what I'm talking about because I'm a girl?"

Harry chuckled nervously, half because he wasn't sure what to say to his friend, and half because he was truly nervous to see Severus. Hermione let out a final growl of frustration, but said no more on the subject as they came to Severus' office.

Before Harry had time to hesitate, Hermione reached forward and rapped her knuckles against Snape's office door. Looking over at Harry, she gave him an encouraging smile.

Harry felt his stomach churn with anxiety, and he contemplated what he would say when his Father opened the door. Would he allow Hermione to make some sort of excuse for why they were there? Would he simply ask him if he had a moment to talk? Should he explain how frustrated he felt at his Father's lack of understanding the night before?

"I don't think he's here," Hermione said, breaking through Harry's stream of thoughts. Still, she knocked again.

Harry frowned. If his Father wasn't at breakfast, and he wasn't here, where could he be?

"Hermione… you don't think—"

At that moment, rapid footsteps falling upon the stone caught both Harry and Hermione's attention. They could hear loud, clumsy running, and down the corridor, a red mop of hair was bobbing up and down atop Ron Weasley's head.

"I thought you weren't coming," Hermione said stiffly as he came to a graceless halt in front of them. He huffed a few times, and shook his head, ignoring her comment.

Turning to Harry, Ron said irritably, "I don't get post my arse. You do, and it was delivered by a great bloody bat!"

Harry frowned and took the envelope from Ron's extended hand. On the front of the envelope was his name, scrawled in Snape's spiky black script. He looked back up at Ron.

"Ron… did you just call my Father a great bloody bat?"

"Yes," answered Ron matter-of-factly.

Hermione looked as though she might kick him again.

Without hesitation, Harry ripped open the sealed envelope.

Harry, the note began,

Because I have very important matters to attend to this morning, I do not have time to explain until later what our plans for this weekend will entail. Please come to my office during your lunch period, and instruct Miss Granger to come during her free period immediately after. There is much work to be done over the next several days.

SS

"He handed this to you?" Harry asked Ron, confused about why his Father had been so late to breakfast and why on earth he had written him a letter instead of simply seeking him out himself.

"Yes," Ron replied, and sounded as though he deeply wished that were not the case. "And he was not in a pleasant mood."

"Probably because he was forced to talk to you," remarked Hermione from the side, and it was Ron's turn to look indignant.

xxx

The closer Harry came to Severus' office, the slower his pace became. A small amount of trepidation was working its way into Harry's thoughts as he made his way down the dungeon corridor. Initially, he had felt a sense of relief at hearing from his Father, simply for the fact that it had cured him of the worry he felt for the older man when he didn't appear at breakfast. However, the ambiguous nature of his missive now had him guessing at what they might discuss while he was there. Furthermore, his request to see him and Hermione separately worried him. Would his Father unleash a diatribe of things he had not thought to say at the time of their discussion but that had built up over a night of restlessness? Should Harry pretend that nothing had happened the night previous until the man brought it to attention?

Either way, he knew that he had to face whatever outcome was in store for him. As he approached the office, he was surprised to see the door already propped open. An open door suggested that visitors were welcome; that the person inside did not mind being disturbed. These things were almost never true of the Potions Master.

Halting at the entrance, purely out of habit, Harry tapped his knuckles against the door before stepping completely into the office.

"Come in," came Severus' voice from around the corner.

Harry stepped inside and looked around for the older man. Per usual, he was sitting at his desk, paying rapt attention to whatever papers he had in front of him. Harry's first observation was that he looked more worn down than usual; his normally pale skin looked even more sallow than usual, the circles under his eyes had a hollow look to them, and his expression was drawn into a tight, hard frown as he wrote rapidly.

"Close the door behind you," Severus commanded, and Harry inwardly cringed at the lack of warmth in his voice.

Slowly, as though it would buy him some more time to brace himself, Harry pushed the door shut.

"Take a seat," said Severus, now wrapping up what he had been working on and shuffling the papers back into an organized stack, which he placed on the side of his desk. Harry did as he was told. Severus folded his hands before him as he watched his son sink into the chair, and nodded towards the small plate of sandwiches he had set out. "Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded and took the proffered sandwich.

"I had guessed you would be," said Severus needlessly, "considering I interrupted your lunch."

"S'alright," Harry mumbled, stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. Then, he was surprised to see the side of his Father's mouth quirk upwards, ever so slightly.

Severus allowed Harry to eat in silence for the next few minutes, and when he was finished, vanished the plate from his desk. "Satisfactory?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry replied, dusting crumbs off the front of his shirt. "So…what did you want to see me about?"

"Several things," Severus responded promptly, leaning back in his chair. "Firstly, I will need to do quite a bit of work back at the house this weekend. Do you think that you and Miss Granger will be able to spare some time to accompany me?"

"Yes," replied Harry, though there was a note of question in his voice. "Though, I'm not sure I will be much help to you."

"I have some other tasks I will set you to," Severus answered, and Harry groaned inwardly. "At any cost, you should attend for propriety's sake."

Staring for a moment at his Father's stiff black robes, buttoned up to his chin, Harry personally thought that even without his presence, his Father was at least the very epitome of propriety, but he did not say so.

"Secondly," said Severus, and Harry thought he was moving on rather quickly, "I thought we should discuss the events of yesterday."

Ah, there it was. Glancing longingly back at the door, Harry briefly wished that it was still open, ready for him to escape.

"I think perhaps I did not make myself clear enough during our conversation last night."

Harry wanted to protest that Severus had been more than clear enough and cut off the coming lecture, but he could not picture that scenario unfolding in his favour. Instead, he folded one arm under the other and waited.

"I suppose I was rather harsh on you," Severus said, and he seemed to read Harry's body language correctly. Surprised, Harry looked up at him.

"You were a bit, yeah," Harry found himself agreeing, only because he could not stop himself. To his further amazement, his Father's hard expression softened slightly.

"Harry," said Severus, and Harry got the idea that he was carefully choosing his words before he went on, "I did not mean to give you the impression that I was dismissing your concerns. Rather, I was upset about the rashness of your actions. I was frustrated that you had not trusted me enough to listen when I warned you to leave Malfoy alone. Lastly, I was disturbed by the possibility that you had caused Malfoy to lose even more faith in our ability to help him. However, I do appreciate the enormity of the pressure you are under. I comprehend the reasons behind your constant need for information…and I apologize for failing to answer your questions about him adequately when you first asked."

Harry wasn't exactly sure how to respond to this, but for some reason, he felt even worse about his actions now that his Father explained his thoughts to him this way.

"That being said," Severus continued when Harry gave no reply, "I stand by my warning to stay away from Malfoy. It is imperative that you adhere to the rules I set down, no matter how little you understand my reasoning behind them. I open my door to you should you wish to question me more thoroughly; what I do not encourage is blatantly ignoring my wishes. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded dutifully. "And I didn't mean to ignore you—"

"But you did," Severus reminded him ungraciously.

"I know," Harry said agitatedly, annoyed at being interrupted, "But it wasn't as though I set out to defy you. I just found myself in a situation that I thought was to my advantage and didn't realize that I was causing any harm."

Harry watched as Severus' expression turned dubious and he raised a hand to run through his hair. "I don't wish to offend you," said his Father carefully, "but I can't think of a time when you disregarded advice and didn't cause harm."

"That's an exaggeration," Harry insisted.

"I daresay that it is, on the contrary, an understatement."

Harry narrowed his eyes at his Father, not sure how to argue his point other than to fix him with a good dark stare. Severus returned the glare, though Harry got the idea that he was being mocked.

"Well," said Harry, "I at least avoided getting into trouble on the way back to the common room last night."

"Did many opportunities present themselves?" asked Severus dryly.

"Actually, yes," Harry said with a look of satisfaction on his face. However, Severus did not look pleasantly surprised by this information; quite the opposite, his glare took on an aspect of seriousness not formerly present.

"What do you mean?" Severus inquired sharply.

All at once, Harry was aware of the grave turn their conversation had taken. He had not spoken with the intent to instigate another argument regarding Harry's proclivity to keeping tabs on Malfoy, but he now sensed that was the direction in which it was heading.

"Don't be angry," Harry warned, and Severus tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows as if to suggest this was not the preface Harry should have lead with.

Taking a deep breath, Harry started again. "I thought that I heard Aurors coming down the corridor last night after I left your office, so I was simply trying to stay out of trouble when I hid. But then, because of that, I ended up coming to the entrance hall just in time to see Malfoy and Kinnaird leaving. I was going to come back here and tell you that you probably shouldn't expect Kinnaird, but I was so frustrated—"

Suddenly, Severus held up his hand in a silencing gesture. Slowly, he asked, for the second time in twenty-four hours, "Kinnaird? You are certain?"

"Without a doubt," Harry said, thinking back to the night before. No, there had been no doubt about the two; they had certainly been Malfoy and Kinnaird. Getting an inkling of why Severus was so concerned, Harry frowned and gave him a questioning look.

Severus pursed his lips and murmured softly, folding his hands in his lap and apparently taking a long moment for thought. Afraid to interrupt whatever his Father was formulating to say, Harry stayed quiet.

"Kinnaird arrived for our meeting last night not too long after you'd departed." Severus finally said; he still had a far-away look, as though he were considering the reasons for this.

"He did?" Harry asked, half alarmed, half confused as to why Severus didn't seem more anxious himself.

Slowly, Severus nodded thoughtfully. "Yes… I remember checking the time because he was late."

"We need to go to Dumbledore!" Harry blurted out, and then immediately tried to calm himself down as Severus barely spared him a glance.

"Not yet," said Severus, now sitting forward and pulling a sheet of blank parchment out of his desk. "Harry, what is your last class today?"

"Defense against the Dark Arts," said Harry, confusedly. "Why?"

"You are doing well in that class," Severus said in way of statement, beginning to scribble furiously. "Do you have any more classes to attend?"

"Well, one, after this…"

"Go to that class," Severus instructed quickly, handing Harry the pass he had written out. "I will stay here to speak with Miss Granger, and when you are finished, you and I are going to go pay Kinnaird a visit."

"We are?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," said Severus. "I would like to hear what he has to say for himself, and you are the perfect person to facilitate that conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Kinnaird thinks you are rather more of a child than you are… You can easily ask him exactly what he was doing, and he will not judge you for your lack of subtlety or think anything suspicious of it."

"You're using me," Harry said accusatorily.

"Don't be so sensitive," Severus said sardonically, and Harry scowled. "You wish to be a more active participant in Order matters, yes or no?"

"Yes," Harry admitted grudgingly.

"Well, then this is the role you will have to play, for now," said Severus with a sense of finality, rising from his desk to walk Harry to the door.

"Alright," Harry said uncertainly, following his Father. "If you say so… but then you can't be upset with me if I say something wrong."

"I have faith in you," Severus said dryly, opening the door.

Oddly, Harry felt a bit of warmth at this admission, despite the teasing manner in which it was stated.

xxx

Harry spent most of his next class fidgeting in his seat, imagining various ways the coming hour would play out for him and his Father. More than once, he was called upon in class without knowing what he had been asked. More than once, he worried whether Professor Binns would tell Severus about his lack of attention.

Still, despite the looming threat of a harsh reprimand, Harry could not keep his attention on his ghostly Professor. He could not dedicate more than several minutes of uninterrupted thought on the mundane subject of History of Magic. He could only try to contain the mixture of excitement and nervousness he felt at the imminent encounter between himself, Severus, and Kinnaird.

When the bell finally rang, Harry practically jumped from his seat to rush into the corridor before the onslaught of students could emerge from their respective classrooms and slow him down. He made his way quickly down the many flights of stairs to the dungeons, and arrived at his Father's door almost out of breath from the haste with which he had traveled.

Severus was waiting for him when he arrived, and emerged from his office almost the moment Harry's knuckles had grazed the rough wooden surface of the door.

"Is Kinnaird expecting us?" Harry asked as he traipsed down the corridor after Severus, who was moving rather quickly for his taste.

"He is expecting to see me," replied Severus. "I think he shall be surprised to see you, however."

"Surprised?" Harry said questioningly. He had sat in on many of the training sessions between Severus and Kinnaird; this shouldn't have been out of the norm.

"You are supposed to be in class, remember?" Severus reminded him.

"Oh… right," Harry said. "How are we going to explain that?"

"Kinnaird isn't going to have time to question it," Severus said nonchalantly, though there was something menacing about his tone which Harry could not quite place. "Nevertheless, I will simply say that I pulled you from class for reasons beyond his concern."

Harry was surprised Severus didn't have a rather more developed plan for this encounter, but he suspected that his Father's arrogance about his ability to maneuver a conversation was the main reason for that. Without challenging him any further, he followed him until at last they had reached the Room of Requirement.

Confidently, Severus paced past the entrance three times, and without preface, walked through the door, Harry following closely behind him.

"Kinnaird," Severus greeted the other man immediately upon arrival. His voice was neither warm nor cold; it was one of even indifference, neither giving the impression that he desired to be there nor the idea that he loathed the duty.

"Professor Snape," said Kinnaird, rising from the chair in which he had been waiting. The room was configured to allow for strenuous dueling; most of the fixtures were made of stone, and those which weren't were placed all at one end, far from the wide open space designed precisely for that purpose. In several long strides, Kinnaird crossed the room. Then, as though he hadn't seen Harry at first, he turned to him and said, "Harry! What a pleasant surprise. I had thought you would be in class today."

Instantly put off by Kinnaird's false demeanor, and unsure what to say, Harry nodded and tried to put a smile on his face.

"I thought that today would be rather beneficial for Harry to observe," Severus said coolly, moving about the room and arranging the stone benches so that they were farther away from what Harry thought of as the dueling pitch.

Harry fought the urge to throw his Father a look of annoyance. Of course, the man would just invent excuses as he went along; how very Slytherin of him. Harry, however, couldn't help but be irritated by the ease with which Severus was able to contrive stories; it made it very difficult for Harry to know how to respond to Kinnaird's queries.

Then, behind Kinnaird's back, as Severus moved the last bench with his wand, he shot Harry what the boy supposed was supposed to be meaningful look.

"Yes," Harry suddenly found himself compelled to say, and then regretted speaking when he realized he had nothing to add to that. With Kinnaird's attention focused on him, however, waiting for his next sentence, he decided he had nothing to do but to improvise. "I was rather surprised myself. I didn't think I would have the chance, after all, when I saw you leaving the castle last night."

Kinnaird's expression instantly became tense, and then melted again; Harry could tell that he was trying to look innocently confused, though it was only because Harry was so confident in what he had seen that he could see the effort behind the visage.

"I'm not sure what you mean," said Kinnaird, and he did not dare to glance back towards Severus.

"Oh, I thought you had seen me," Harry wildly invented, mimicking a look of innocence. "I was on my way back to the common room and I saw you and Malfoy leaving together—I'd rather thought I was going to be forced to go to class this afternoon, considering."

"Leaving?" asked Severus, stepping around to stand by his son's side. "You never mentioned that you had left the castle last night."

Harry was impressed by the sincerity of Severus' tone. But then, he supposed he had not been successful as a Death Eater without reason.

"Ah, yes," Kinnaird said, as though he had only just remembered leaving the castle. "Regrettably, I had to escort young Mr. Malfoy to the gates. He was called away by his father sometime earlier in the evening; I did not wish to see him leave unaccompanied. It can be rather dangerous outside the gates, these days."

He had not missed a beat. There had been no hesitation, no faltering in his speech. Still, as Severus moved again and allowed his dark eyes to connect purposefully with Harry's, Harry had no doubts; his Father was no more convinced of Kinnaird's story than Harry himself.

"How kind of you to look out for the students of this school," said Severus caustically. "Still, you might have mentioned, considering you were late to our scheduled appointment."

"I had rather wanted to avoid upsetting you," said Kinnaird smoothly. "I find that to rile you up before any meeting is always to my disadvantage."

"Quite," said Severus, though there was no sense of humour in his voice. "Harry, I suggest you take a seat," he said, positioning himself across the room and taking aim at Kinnaird. "We have little time to waste."

Quickly, Harry positioned himself on one of the benches, as Kinnaird hurried to position. Neither had expected such a quick start. And, as Severus began firing various spells in Kinnaird's direction, the other man had time only to block him, thrown back each time by the force of the spell; it was clear, Harry thought, that Severus was to use this practice in order to take out his aggression towards his perceived enemy. Harry, however, was not interested in learning any tactics from this session; instead, his thoughts had shifted to Malfoy.

So, now you, what, feel bad for him? Harry had asked the night previous. His father had replied: You don't?

As Harry thought back to breakfast in the Great Hall that morning, he could not recall seeing Malfoy. Though Kinnaird was clearly concealing something about his reason for his brief absence from the castle, Harry had a strange sense of clarity now that he thought about the story he had given; about Malfoy being called away from the castle, Kinnaird was not lying. And as Harry considered the extreme exhaustion he had seen in the other boy's face the day before, Harry did feel some sympathy for his position.

It occurred to Harry that though Malfoy was perhaps yet undecided in his true loyalties, he at least had one quality that Kinnaird was lacking; he had no qualms in being honest about his feelings on the matter.

xxx

Harry could not quite shake the newfound idea that Malfoy was now somebody to be pitied, not to be held in contempt, even as he made his way down to Dumbledore's office along with his Father. Of course, his thoughts were continually being punctuated by the familiar sounds of Severus grumbling under his breath; each utterance of a curse aimed at Kinnaird distracted Harry from his thoughts and forced him to refocus on the reality that they could have an even more serious problem than Malfoy's potential defection from their side: his Father's usual paranoia seemed to be leading them closer to the truth about Kinnaird than Dumbledore's blind trust. Yet the two views were on such opposite ends of the spectrum of possibility, Harry doubted whether Dumbledore would understand the concern he and his Father now shared.

But, at least he and his Father now agreed on something.

"…and this doddering old fool is so concerned with the idea of replacing me, he accepts the first novice to put in a bloody application for the job…" Severus was muttering off to the side of his son, who was dutifully standing in silence as they waited for the great stone gargoyle to reveal the revolving staircase to them.

Yes, Harry now had to agree that Dumbledore had been hasty in accepting Kinnaird into Hogwarts. This, coupled with the few Ministry designated Aurors that were now allowed to roam the halls, was making the castle more and more vulnerable to infiltration.

At least, that's what Harry had gleaned from the discernible portions of Severus' angry and half-whispered ponderings on their way there.

Luckily, by the time they had reached Dumbledore's office door, Severus had ended his monologue concerning the idiocy of those who surrounded him, and seemed resigned to keeping the appearance of a calm, respectably reserved man. Watching his Father, Harry was careful to mimic his expression. As he had most of the day, he found it best to take his Father's lead on such things.

"Ah, Severus and Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed gaily as he opened his office door to them; without word, Severus stepped inside. With a smile that he couldn't help but offer up to the Headmaster in way of greeting, Harry followed.

With what some might consider a presumptuous demeanor, Severus moved directly toward the rather plush chairs stationed in front of Dumbledore's desk and took his seat. Then, after what appeared to be a mere second of debate, he reached forward and took one of the chocolate biscuits which Dumbledore had set out on his desk. Dumbledore, still standing in the doorway, then turned to Harry, and said genially as though he had not just watched Severus do so, "Please, have a seat."

It could never be said that the Headmaster was not gracious, Harry realized.

As Harry moved to Severus' side and sat next to him, he observed the older man churlishly chomping on one of Dumbledore's biscuits; he looked as though he were not really enjoying it, but were rather attempting to take some sort of revenge on the unsuspecting treat.

"And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" asked Dumbledore benignly, moving behind his desk and extending the tray of biscuits to Harry, who politely accepted.

"Well," said Severus, swallowing his remaining mouthful of crumbs and folding his hands gracefully in his lap. Neither his tone nor his body language matched the dour expression firmly cemented on his face. "I would lead with, I believe that something has gone awry with Kinnaird, but somehow, I think that would fail to gain your attention."

Dumbledore's expression was reproving, but nevertheless, he waved his hand and said simply, "Go on."

"Harry," said Severus, nodding in his direction and taking another biscuit. Confused, Harry looked over at the man, but received no further prompting. As his Father was now busily chewing again, however, he garnered that the torch had been passed to him.

Looking at the Headmaster and swallowing reflexively, Harry launched into his explanation. "Excuse him," he said, and he knew that he sounded rather audacious, but didn't care. Avoiding his Father's surely affronted gaze, he continued, "We have just come from a rather upsetting meeting with Kinnaird."

"I have explained before," Dumbledore said tiredly, "that while the young man may seem difficult, he is still in dire need of our help, and we have a responsibility to help him."

"Pardon, sir," Harry said, surprised then by the strength of his own voice as he contradicted the elder Wizard, "but that's not what I meant. Last night, I witnessed Malfoy and Kinnaird leaving the castle, right around curfew—"

"I gave Malfoy leave for the weekend," Dumbledore interrupted, though he seemed to think he was affirming some unasked question. "And Kinnaird is an adult and may leave whenever he wishes."

"He arrived at my office shortly after this," Severus said in response; Harry was given the impression that he had been waiting to make a dramatic entrance into the conversation. "He arrived for his scheduled meeting with me concerning using Legilimancy against the Dark Lord, and failed to mention his reason for being late. It is essential, do you not agree, in order for us to establish trust between mentor and student, that he remain honest about his actions outside of Hogwarts?"

As though he strongly wanted to disagree, Dumbledore slowly nodded his head and began to stroke his beard. "This is true."

"And why is Voldemort requiring Malfoy's presence but not Kinnaird's?" asked Harry; Severus shot him a sharp look. "I just mean," Harry quickly explained, "if Kinnaird is doing as well as he says at gaining Voldemort's trust, what is he doing here when Malfoy is being called away?"

"It was Malfoy's family who requested his presence, not Voldemort," said Dumbledore, and Harry shook his head. Either the man was being purposefully daft in order to facilitate Malfoy's ease at gaining rank in Voldemort's circle, or he was truly getting old. However, Severus' firm grip on Harry's arm told him that he was to say no more on the subject.

"Be that as it may, Headmaster," Severus said, his tone markedly more respectful as he sensed Dumbledore's change in attitude, "it is undeniable that the Malfoy boy has had extensive contact with the Dark Lord, and Kinnaird has still failed to provide us with anything useful. Even more than this, he is beginning to withhold information about his activities outside of these walls. None of these are good signs, Headmaster. Certainly, even if we cannot turn him away, we can be equally as cautious as he in the disclosure of information."

As Severus finished speaking, he released Harry's arm but continued to stare purposefully at the Headmaster. Harry did the same, eagerly awaiting his response.

Sighing, Dumbledore tiredly removed his spectacles from atop his nose and placed them on his desk. He closed his eyes against the light of the office, seemingly pondering his next words. "Your reasoning is not flawed," he admitted after a long moment of silence. "You are correct; Kinnaird has not been of use to us. However, I am not yet willing to discredit him; Severus, you will continue to meet with him on a regular basis—"

Were Severus not pursing his lips so tightly, Harry was sure he would have released an audible growl of frustration.

"—but we should be careful not to reveal anything important to him. If he begins seeking information for which he should have no use, we may have to further modify our approach. However, if he is true to our cause and we do abandon him, Voldemort will surely punish him for uselessness. I do not wish to have his blood on my hands, as I am sure you do not either."

"No, I do not wish to have any blood on my hands," Severus agreed darkly. "But if I had my choice, I'd rather it be his than someone rather more important to me."

At this, Harry turned his eyes to his Father, and was surprised to see him glaring almost protectively in his direction, a look of determination hardening the lines on his already course face. Within an instant, the moment had passed, and Severus' severe gaze was resting on Dumbledore once more.

"Do not ask me to assist him in placing us in even graver danger," said Severus, rising from his seat. Harry did the same. "Sometimes, I think you forget to take this threat seriously, you have been evading it for so very long."

"What threat do you mean, Severus?" questioned Dumbledore, his voice soft, as though he were neither surprised nor angered by Severus' words. "I have agreed with you, have I not? I have made the concession that we withhold important information from the boy."

"The threat, Headmaster, lies in the fact that you still leave so much room to be proven wrong," Severus replied. "I would rather force someone to earn my trust and approval than to give one the benefit of the doubt and be made a fool of."

"And if I had—"

"Yes, yes, we've heard it before. Your optimistic nature saved me from a fate worse than death—did I ever say I was ungrateful? No," Severus answered the question for him. "However, I might remind you that when I came to you, I offered you information which may have cost me my life. I came with something to offer, and with the rigors I endured over the years, I more than earned my keep. This boy? He comes with a hollow promise, and you welcome him with open arms. You're softening in your old age, Albus. Softening considerably, and now is not the time to lose your edge."

Much to Harry's confusion, Dumbledore inclined his head and smiled softly, though he looked a bit sad. "Perhaps you are right," he admitted without difficulty, "Though I wish you would spare an old man such acerbity in front of impressionable youth."

Harry bristled slightly at the referral, but could not help but to simultaneously feel a twinge of regret on his Father's behalf. For once, he thought as he looked up at him, Severus seemed to have been effectively taken aback by mere words.

"My apologies, Headmaster," he replied uncomfortably. "I simply wish to stress the importance of this matter."

"You may be certain it has been stressed," Dumbledore replied; he appared sobered by Severus' harsh speech, but Harry privately thought that it was something at least that their concerns were being taken seriously. From experience, Harry knew that was not how these discussions always ended.

"Then, I believe our visit has concluded," said Severus, starting towards the door. "Oh," he said at the door, turning back to Dumbledore, "and thank you for the biscuits."

Harry turned to see the Headmaster smile and shake his head, and finally followed his Father out the door.

xxx

Severus Snape had never felt at ease with idleness; relaxation was not a word in his vocabulary. He was constantly setting himself to some sort of task; he hated to be left sitting idly for many hours at a time, at least when he didn't have a drink and a good book in his hands. Generally, he was a man who took on rather too much than too little, when he had the option.

That being said, the rapid succession of events which had filled his day had left him feeling tired, and he was quite glad now to be leaving Hogwarts for the weekend. Though he had originally planned to hurry back to Hogwarts, he was now looking forward to spending the next few days in relative solace.

His anticipation of leaving the castle, therefore, had him waiting in the entrance hall with what one might call eagerness if one were referring to anyone other than his surly self. He had already decided that today, in order to save time, they would bypass Tonk's house in favor of Apparating just outside the perimeter of his grounds. He had already decided that he could travel lightly; he brought with him only a few necessary potions supplies carried in a small bag which he could carry in his hand. He had asked his son and Miss Granger to meet him promptly after they had shared dinner in the Great Hall.

So, he had to ask himself, why exactly were they running so very late?

Ah, Severus thought to himself moments later, as he watched Harry and his companion hurrying towards him. He took note of Hermione's flushed face and his eyes fell to the rather bulky bag at her side.

His first thought was to reprimand Miss Granger for packing so many items.

His second thought was to upbraid his Gryffindor son for his lack of chivalry. Which, considering his own stance on chivalry, he was immediately surprised by.

"Harry," he scolded anyway, "why on earth is Miss Granger carrying such a heavy bag while your own hands are empty?"

Harry seemed immediately taken aback by this query, and his eyes flew to Hermione, who seemed embarrassed that anyone had taken notice of her exertion.

"I—I don't know," Harry stuttered lamely, and then belatedly reached and tugged Hermione's bag from her shoulder, almost causing her to topple over in the process.

"Oh, give it here," said Severus irritably, and his son bashfully did as he was instructed. Sliding his wand gracefully out of the sleeve in which it had been tucked, he shrunk Hermione's bag to a portion of its former size and handed it back to her. "I must say, Miss Granger, I am rather surprised to see you did not think to do this yourself."

"Well," said Hermione belatedly, eyeing the bag with a measure of hesitancy, "I wasn't sure if the new stirring rod I brought should be shrunk, due to the magical properties, and I had packed it rather carefully…"

Severus felt a twinge of regret for having mocked her, but didn't let it show on his face. "I'm certain it will be quite alright," he said, somewhat acerbically, and handed her back the now much lighter sack of possessions.

With little more than another glance at the two adolescents in front of him, Severus turned sharply and moved to the doors.

"We will be using side-along apparition to reach our destination today," he announced as he made his way down the path to Hogwarts' gates. "I do not normally like to travel that way, compensating for others, but since time is so limited…"

Harry and Hermione brooked no arguments, and soon, they had finally reached their destination in front of Severus' home.

As Severus took in the sight of his familiar and yet outwardly foreboding house, he oddly felt a measurable amount of stress escape him along with his exhaled breath. Yes, it had been a burden at first, returning to this place; now, however, this was no longer the case. The unpleasant nostalgia which had previously accompanied the house was now replaced by the happy absence of other students and troublesome staff members. It was a safe place, where he did not have to worry about Kinnaird or Malfoy causing him any sort of stress. It was his own home, where he did not have to abide by the Headmaster coming in and out whenever he saw fit.

That, especially, was a rewarding thought.

Even more important, although Severus would rather not admit it, it was a place where he could see Harry as his son, not the same boy who had wandered the halls of the school for the past 6 years. There, he still felt very much like Harry's professor. Here, he could relax his demeanor a bit more. At least, he could try.

As the three entered the house, Severus was glad to find it was already lit, with the inviting scent of hot cinnamon clove tea instantly greeting them. As they entered the brightest room in the house, the kitchen, Severus saw there were already three saucers with teacups set out, and a steaming pot of tea in the middle.

"Tibby?" asked Harry knowledgeably, and Severus nodded.

"I had told her we would be arriving tonight."

"Well, where is she?" asked Hermione. "We ought to thank her."

"I thank her with kind treatment, Miss Granger; believe me, she does not find her existence here to be overly-cumbersome."

Hermione sniffed, but did not respond.

"Now," said Severus as he sat at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea. "I recognize it is growing rather late in the evening, but I think we ought to set to our tasks immediately. Miss Granger, I will be setting you to your own portion of the potion this weekend. It should take about three hours of preparation this evening, while I attend to the rest. Then, we shall finish the rest tomorrow."

"And what will I be doing?" Harry chimed in, before Hermione even had a chance to say something that Severus was sure would emerge in the form of a question.

"I have a project for you, Harry, never fear," said Severus with a hint of humour in his voice.

"Great," responded his son with a yawn. At Severus' questioning look, Harry explained, "I was up rather late last night, finishing my homework for today…"

With a shake of his head, Severus murmured his disapproval and poured Harry another cup of tea. "Drink up," he said, then rose from the table. "Miss Granger, if you would follow me upstairs, I shall help you get started."

Hermione dutifully followed Severus out of the kitchen, leaving Harry there to mull over his cup of tea alone. As instructed, he finished his tea quickly, and when that was finished, rose and left the kitchen as well. He wouldn't be sure when his Father would be finished upstairs, and he certainly wasn't going to fall asleep at the kitchen table while he waited for him.

It wasn't long before Harry found his way to the couch and sank into it with relief, resting his head on the soft decorative pillow. Certainly, he assured himself, his Father wouldn't blame him for resting his eyes for a few moments while he waited for the energizing effects of the tea to sink in.

A few minutes gradually stretched into many minutes, and Harry quickly drifted into a deeper sleep than he had intended. However, Harry was blissfully unaware of the growing passage of time as he lay sleeping on the couch.

He was also unaware of his Father's looming presence as he happened upon his son, fast asleep on the sofa.

Severus was not immediately sure whether it would be best to wake his son or to let him sleep. The boy had not been lying, he reflected; he must have stayed up rather late the previous night to achieve this sort of drowsiness so quickly.

It would not do, he thought, to wake the boy and have him groggily start on a project of so much importance. There would be plenty of time for him to catch up the following day; he had checked with his Professors, and he had few assignments to complete this weekend. Against his usual cynical nature, he decided that he could trust Harry to work hard on this if he just allowed him to sleep tonight.

After a moment of reflection on this decision, Severus placed the book he held in his hands on the table in front of the couch. Deciding not to wake his son even to tell him to go to his own bed, he conjured a soft blanket from a nearby closet and spread it over the boy's immobile body. With some hesitance, he gently tugged the circular spectacles from atop Harry's nose and placed them within his reach.

"Goodnight, Harry," Severus sighed defeatedly, recognizing even as he did these things that he had, much to his chagrin, softened considerably over the past year.

For the second time that night, Severus shook his head disapprovingly; but now, he directed it at his own futile resistance to this blasted sentimentality rather than the object of it.

Grumbling mildly to himself, he headed back to his potion. That project, at least, he could be sure would conjure nothing from him other than some warmly welcomed churlishness.

He was, after all, a sort of creature of habit.

xxx

When Harry awoke the next morning, he was first of all, surprised to find that it was now light outside. He was secondly surprised to find that he was curled up on the couch in the sitting room, rather than his bed.

As the understanding that he had fallen asleep on the couch the previous night sank in, Harry sat up slowly and rolled his stiff shoulders a few times. He looked around for his glasses and quickly located them on the table in front of him; clumsily putting them on, he then focused on the book upon which they had been resting.

Frowning, and picking it up, Harry read the title:

White Light by Malte Svorkad

Resting the book in his lap, Harry looked around, scratching his head. Obviously, his Father had left this for him. And, Harry realized with a pang, this had most likely been what Severus had meant to have him work on the night before.

Harry groaned at the thought of disappointing the man yet again, hitting himself lightly on the forehead with the tomb. With a final grunt, he stood up and trudged out of the room, searching for signs of life anywhere in the quiet house.

It did not take long. Harry quickly stumbled upon Hermione, having what appeared to be an in-depth conversation with Tibby in the kitchen. Harry cleared his throat as he entered, and Tibby immediately curtseyed.

"Master Harry," the elf greeted him, dipping quickly. Then, snapping her fingers, a plate of breakfast appeared next to Hermione's.

"Thank you," Harry said, taking his place at the table.

"I be leaving you to your breakfast, now," said Tibby, and quickly disappeared from the kitchen.

"She seems a bit skittish," remarked Hermione, and Harry shrugged.

"So…where's my Father?" asked Harry tentatively, certain she would tell him he was having some fit of temper off by himself somewhere.

"Working," said Hermione simply. "He rose much earlier than I did. I haven't seen him yet."

"Oh," said Harry, somewhat disappointed that she wasn't able to give him much detail about what to expect. "And…where did you sleep?"

Hermione flushed, and admitted sheepishly, "In your bed. Professor Snape said he didn't quite have a guest room ready, and had assumed I would sleep on the couch for the night, but since you were already there…"

"Ah, how hospitable of him," said Harry wryly.

"Are you angry?"

"No," Harry snorted, shaking his head. "But I'm rather surprised he didn't wake me."

Hermione shrugged, and went back to her breakfast.

Watching her carefully, Harry continued, "How was last night, anyway? Was it weird, working up there with him for so long?"

"A bit," Hermione admitted with a small laugh, shaking her head. "He makes me so nervous."

"I think he tries to," Harry agreed.

Hermione nodded. "Still, it was a comfortable enough silence. I'm so grateful for the opportunity, anyway."

"The opportunity to work?" asked Harry.

"Well," Hermione said, and for some reason had a somewhat guilty gleam to her eye, "I have been thinking about pursuing further education in Potions after…well, after we graduate, if I'm able."

Harry frowned. "I didn't know that."

"Yes," Hermione said quietly, her eyes on her plate. "I've been thinking about it for some time; it's a profession with a lot of room for creativity. Anyway, Professor Snape said he might be able to recommend me for an apprenticeship in a few years, if I show promise."

Harry murmured thoughtfully, fixing his eyes on his own plate now. "He must be pleased," he said with a bit of stiffness to his tone.

"He seems rather annoyed by it, actually," Hermione offered.

"He always seems annoyed," Harry said grudgingly. "But really, I'm sure he's pleased."

Hermione cleared her throat, but didn't say anything else. Somewhat pleased with the silence, Harry continued to eat.

He knew his resentment of this newfound knowledge was childish. He knew he ought to be happy for Hermione's ambition. Still, he could not help but feel that while he continually disappointed his Father in the field of academics, his own friend was consistently making him look even worse in comparison.

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts as she reached out and grasped his wrist, "I think I just heard the floo." She stood, looking at him expectantly.

"What?" asked Harry, confused as he too moved to his feet.

"The floo, Harry," Hermione repeated.

Both teenagers quickly moved to the parlor, curious as to who would be trying to contact them so early in the day.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione gasped ahead of Harry as they moved into the room. "What are you—"

"Hello Miss Granger," said Dumbledore quickly, much less genially than was usual. Hermione instantly closed her mouth, also seeming to sense his tenseness, despite his falsely airy tone. "Harry, I was wondering if you might fetch your Father for me…"

xxx

Black robes swirled around Severus' feet as he moved quickly down the corridor towards the hospital wing. Ahead of him, the Headmaster strode quickly, with purpose and speed that Severus had not witnessed in quite some time. Since his days as a Death Eater had come to an end, it had been seldom that he had encountered the Headmaster when he was not behind a desk or offering him lemon drops. The resolution in his manner now told Severus that what he had been called here for was no mere staff meeting.

"You said that Malfoy had asked to see me," said Severus from behind Dumbledore as they moved along. "Would this have something to do with the 'family visit' you allowed him on this weekend."

"It does," said Dumbledore as they came closer to the doors, and in an instant, stopped and turned to face the younger man. He lowered his voice considerably and stepped closer to Severus. "The young man refuses to speak to me about what has occurred this weekend. However, I have hopes that he will reveal it to you. He will not let Poppy touch him, beyond administering a potion for pain. He refuses to reveal what occurred this weekend, refuses to even undress."

"And he asked for me?" asked Severus dubiously.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I leave you here," said the Headmaster, gesturing to the hospital door. "Mr. Malfoy has requested to speak with you in privacy; I fear that in order to learn what has occurred here, I must acquiesce."

"Certainly," Severus agreed, straightening his robes and steeling his expression.

"I will see that Miss Granger and Harry made it safely to the common room. I expect to see you later this evening," said Dumbledore, although it seemed like a question. Severus nodded curtly.

As the Headmaster moved past him and disappeared down the length of the hallway, Severus moved to the door of the hospital wing. Without further ado, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him.

Malfoy was lying in the small bed, staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him. His expression was a mixture of resignation and reserve, and he barely twitched as Severus approached his bed.

Severus could see that the boy had endured an immense amount of physical rigor. His clothes were torn in several places, and a strong odor emitting from them told Severus he had been in the same condition for quite some time now. Various cuts and deep bruises marred his ashen skin, and the circles which had become custom under his eyes were even darker than before. Slowly, Malfoy turned resentful eyes on Severus.

The Potions' Master did not stir under the boy's almost accusatory gaze. He waited silently for the boy to say something, but he did not. After a long moment, Malfoy wordlessly moved his hand to the inner pocket of his robes. Looking down, he grasped something there, seemingly lost in a myriad of conflicting thoughts.

Finally, the boy spoke. "No matter what I do," he said in a low voice, removing his hands from his robes and clutching something hidden there. Severus resisted the urge to lower his eyes to what the boy was grasping, and watched his face instead. "No matter what I do, I answer to someone with only his own interests in mind. Still, an opportunity presented itself…"

Unfolding his hands, Malfoy held out a vial to Severus, who reached out and took it, turning it over in his hands. Against his will, his eyes widened ever so slightly.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, nearly breathless. "This…"

"A piece of Voldemort himself," Malfoy said, a hint of pride in his voice. "The ingredient to your precious potion you needed the most, is it not?"

Pressing his lips together in a silent gesture of triumph, Severus grasped the vial tightly and closed his eyes as he dropped it into his pocket. It was a small victory, but one of the most important ones he could have won. Fixing his gaze on the battered boy before him, he asked solemnly, "What have you done to secure this?"

"I have kept my position, never fear," Malfoy spat, looking away. "I will go back, when he calls. He does not know I took this. However, he was not pleased that in my training I was able to injure him, however great of a sign it is that I am succeeding in becoming as strong as I must."

"What can I do?" asked Severus, more gently now.

"Help me," said Malfoy simply, but there was almost a hint of desperation to his voice. "And stop wasting your time on that prat Kinnaird. The Dark Lord doesn't truly trust him anyway. Train me, instead. If you are going to insist on asking me to do these things, give me a way out, in the end. I at least deserve to profit as much as I stand to lose."

"You know Dumbledore will not abide by that," said Severus seriously.

"Do we serve ourselves or not?" asked Malfoy with uncharacteristic boldness. "If you want to keep your son safe, you must help me as well. It's the only way you can win."

Slowly, Severus nodded. To an extent, this boy was right. Dumbledore was wise, certainly. But he was misguided about his prospects of gaining a loyalty from either Malfoy or Kinnaird. Perhaps the Slytherin in front of him would not make him any solid promises, but neither did he pledge lies. With Kinnaird, Severus could never be certain.

"Very well," he said, stepping back from the bed. "I will try to do what I can for you."

"And leave Potter out of it."

"He is not a Potter anymore, first of all," Severus reminded him harshly, then quickly regained his composure. "However, I will see to it that he is not present during our meetings. Now, will you let our resident Mediwitch tend to you? Or must I dress your wounds myself?"

If nothing else, the acerbity in Severus' tone seemed to keep Malfoy from making any such requests. "Send her in," he said grudgingly, after a moment of thought.

"Very well," Severus agreed. "And Mr. Malfoy…I thank you. I understand the risk you took in obtaining this."

Malfoy looked as though he wanted to object, but had the sense to refrain. Reluctantly, he nodded, sucking in his bottom lip and looking away. Taking this as his cue to leave, Severus turned quickly and, before Malfoy could come up with any other requests which Severus would have to agree to, left the hospital wing.

As he closed the doors behind him, he could not help but exhale with a certain sense of relief. With his hands still resting on the doorknob, he leaned back and rested his head against the door.

They had what they needed. The Potions ingredient…and a certainty that at least one of their spies was truly theirs, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not.

xxx end chapter xxx

To be continued...


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=908