Chapter 1

An Unexpected Warning

Disclaimer: All the characters and the world they exist in belong solely to JK Rowling. I love this series and write purely for pleasure.

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Shadowed images darted back and forth, illuminated only by intermittent streaks of colored light flying past. Voices echoed in the distance, but it was impossible to interpret their meaning. A hazy glow penetrated the back of Harry's mind, and he stirred.

Gasps of discomfort escaped from between his lips, but he was totally unaware of the sounds he emitted. To him, it was an obscure amalgamation of noises that he could not recognize; it was an awful, grating sound.

A hiccup that sounded mysteriously like a sob escaped Harry, and the abruptness of the noise roused him to consciousness. Momentarily unaware of his surroundings, a loud groan escaped him as he thrashed, throwing his arms out to feel the area around him and struggling to understand what was going on.

Slowly gaining awareness, Harry struggled to open his eyes; his lids peeled apart sickeningly, sticky from the residual tears that had been flowing unchecked throughout the night.

As his eyes adjusted to the morning light in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, he took in his surroundings. It was not much; a desk sat in the corner, the temporary home to the books he had not read throughout the summer. His single, deflated pillow lay on the worn wood floor beneath his bed, a casualty of his nightmares. The window, completely devoid of dressings or decorations, allowed sunlight to stream in unfiltered.

As his vision became focused and clear, Harry reminded himself that the irrational fear he was experiencing was only part of the dream that lingered in his sleepy brain. Eager to shake the feeling, he rolled out of his bed, stripping damp clothes from his body as he registered the uncomfortable feeling of them. The August heat made his poorly ventilated room unbearable; once he had gathered a clean set of clothes, he quickly escaped.

In the hallway, Harry crept quietly down to the lavatory. It was still quite early, and the snoring coming from his Aunt and Uncle's bedroom told him that the Dursleys had not yet woken. A cold shower shocked Harry's brain to attention; when he had finished, he dressed quickly and left the house, relieved to have easily escaped any interaction with his unpleasant muggle relatives. The mornings when he failed to do so had not been easy.

Despite the warning given to the Dursleys at the beginning of the summer, Harry's holidays had not, by any standard of comparison, improved. Mindful of the threat of Wizards blasting through their front door at any moment, they had taken care not to blatantly mistreat Harry. This did not, however, make them any more pleasant; they instead seemed determined to ignore his existence. Harry at first thought he might prefer this to the usual, but as the summer dragged on, he realized that being left to his own thoughts was perhaps the worst thing for him.

The shock of Sirius' death had not immediately hit Harry at the beginning of the summer; he'd felt numb when it was new, more able to pretend it hadn't happened. Over time, however, he began to replay the events in his dreams, over and over until he could no longer deny what he knew was true.

Sirius was gone. And if it weren't enough to realize it once, he felt as though he awoke every morning with a new sense of loss, forced to relive the events in his nightmares. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and to add to it the absolute isolation he felt now... he wasn't sure how much longer he could last in this house. He wished every day that the post would arrive with an invitation away from Privet Drive, but none came. He had received only a few letters from his friends, each as uninformative and purposely mundane as the last.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope your relatives are treating you well. I've just returned from a camping trip with my parents; if you need anything don't hesitate to write. I've enclosed some tips that might help with that Transfiguration homework, if it's giving you any trouble. O.W.L. results should be arriving any day! I'm so nervous! Hope to see you soon.

With love,

Hermione

That had been the friendliest letter he had received all summer. Then came Ron's.

Dear Harry,

Business as usual, Hermione has forced me to finish most of my homework. Mum says to say hello, and told me not to tell you that we'll be coming to rescue you at the first sign of trouble. Can't tell you why now, but hopefully you'll be here before long.

Ron

P.S. Chudley Cannons won their game against Birmingham last week. I'm trying to convince Dad to take us, if Mum will allow it. Perhaps you can help me convince her when you get here.

But this had been weeks ago, and still, there had been no rescue attempt in sight. Hedwig sat in her cage, having just returned from a hunt with nothing new in the way of messages.

Opening the usually squeaky back door very slowly as not to rouse his relatives, Harry went out into the back garden. Unable to go far from the house and unwilling to stay in the house where he felt about as welcome as a stray dog, Harry spent most of his time here these days. His aunt had given him a list of chores to keep up on for the summer, and most seemed to involve working outdoors- no doubt in an effort to keep Harry as far away from the family as possible. Harry didn't mind, though. Pulling weeds was a welcome distraction from the darker topics that normally lingered on his mind.

It was not only Sirius' death that haunted Harry. The prophecy Dumbledore revealed weighed heavily on his mind, and having told no one else, it was his burden alone to contemplate. It was a bitter fate: murder, or be murdered. There was no in between. And yet, if Harry was being honest, death was sometimes seemed an appealing escape. When Harry considered the impossibility of defeating Voldemort, he thought it might be simpler... At the very least, death could reunite him with Sirius, and his parents. He snorted at the thought, then shook his head, as though to physically shake the dark thoughts that were overtaking him.

In his heart, Harry knew that he could never take the easy way out. He could never allow Voldemort to win so easily. Yet, he feared the eventual outcome...

Harry sat back on his heels and contemplated the flower beds before him. Clearly, he thought bitterly, it was going to take more than a few weeds to keep him occupied today.

Perhaps a walk, thought Harry, to clear his mind. He knew he couldn't go far, but surely a jaunt down the block would do him some good. It wasn't healthy, staying in the same miserable place every day, and though Dumbledore had told him he must return to the Dursleys, he hadn't said that he must stay in the house at all times.

xxx

Perched like an awkward bird that had not yet learned to fly, Severus Snape sat in the very same tree that he had seen a young Harry chased up into by a dog during their Occlumency lessons the past year.

Truthfully, there were many forms of torture that Severus thought might be more favorable than playing watchdog over the boy-who-lived. He considered the task to be a bit beneath his usual caliber of work for the Order, but as a favor to Dumbledore, he had agreed to cover Lupin's post following a particularly rough night of the full moon. The Headmaster had promised to send someone else along shortly.

Severus snorted to himself. When one had lived a century and a half, he reflected, 'shortly' appeared to be a relative term. It had been hours since he had climbed onto a low branch of the tree, hoping to finish some reading. He hadn't expected to be here so long, and he certainly hadn't expected Potter to be up and about in the back garden at such an early hour. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing for the boy to return to the house.

Almost as though the boy had heard his thoughts (impossible, thought Snape sardonically, owed to the fact that the boy was quite unaccomplished in the area of legilimency) he rose and exited the garden. Severus lifted his eyes to the sky and shook his head. Why couldn't Potter just have a lie in like normal teenage boys? With a low growl, Severus descended from the tree and gave pursuit.

xxx

Harry walked slowly as he left the Dursleys' house; he had no particular goal in mind, only to distract himself from the particularly dark train of thought his mind kept taking. As he walked along, he found his thoughts drifting to the coming year at Hogwarts.

Harry never dreaded the start of term, even if homework and classes were not his favorite pastimes. He looked forward, every summer, to leaving the Dursleys and starting his life at what he considered his true home. Though his years were always filled with various tribulations, he found himself highly anticipating the arrival of September. Nothing could be worse than the summer of boredom and misery he had endured here.

Nothing, of course, Harry quipped to himself, except Potions with Professor Snape. He had completed his O.W.L.s the prior year, and though Potions was not his best subject, he held out hope that he had passed his test with standards high enough for even his hated Professor. Hermione had spent weeks upon weeks preparing him for the exam, and though he would have relished the opportunity to dodge Snape for the rest of his career at Hogwarts, he knew he had to do his best if he were to eventually become an Auror.

Though Harry hated to admit that Snape could affect him so easily, the thought of him made Harry so angry that his stomach burned like a furnace housing a bed of hot coals. Harry had made many changes in his attitude since the death of Sirius, but he had not yet let go of his contempt for the vindictive Potions master.

Snape. A man who was perpetually bitter, an old man with no one to care for in the world. Harry was not naïve. He could see the pettiness of the man's behavior towards him; all due to a grudge against James Potter, he had treated Harry like scum on the bottom of his shoe since he'd started at Hogwarts, a mere child, then.

Even worse, he reflected, was the way he had allowed Sirius to die due to the grudge. Certainly, the man had made it seem as though he had made the greatest effort to save him. He had allowed Harry to take the blame for everything. What he hadn't admitted to was his own role in Sirius' demise; if he had only listened to Harry, given him a sign that he would find help, everything might have been different.

It was as though he had wanted Sirius to die.

He certainly wasn't sorry. He didn't quite seem upset about it. If anything, he was gloating.

The injustice was almost too much to bear. Dumbledore should have canned the man long ago; the fact that he hadn't yet only spoke to Snape's powers of manipulation.

Without having decided to, Harry uttered in a low growl, "Snape." In anger, he aimed a swift kick at a nearby stone, glaring at it as it skidded away.

xxx

Severus stalked slowly along, maintaining several paces behind Harry Potter. He could hear the boy mumbling to himself as he went, but could not make out the few words he'd uttered. Just as well, he considered. As though he wished to listen to Potter's insipid ramblings any more now than in his classroom. He was here simply as a service to Dumbledore and hoped he would be relinquished of that responsibility very soon.

It didn't take long for Severus to realize he was being followed. When he did, his hand was instantly in his robe pocket, clutching his wand, as he glanced over his shoulder.

He was surprised to see, however, that it was no enemy following him as he trailed Harry Potter. It was a set of three muggles; one, he recognized from Harry's Occlumency lessons as his cousin. The other two, well, they were of no consequence.

Severus was surprised when the three boys rushed past him, apparently attempting to catch up to Harry. He did not act right away, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched them approach. He knew he was supposed to protect Potter from ill-intending Wizards or Witches, but what was he to do about a wayward muggle or two?

xxx

Harry had been walking for a short while when the sound of heavy footsteps drew him out of his reverie. His eyes slanted to the side as he turned his head, and he caught sight of his cousin and friends. He huffed, returning his gaze to the ground in front of him and turned the next corner into a secluded alleyway. Here, at least, he could defend himself without too many muggles seeing... if it came to that.

This couldn't mean anything good for Harry. It never did. His hand tightened around his wand in his pocket, but he tried to remember his resolution not to do anything impulsive. He couldn't risk expulsion from Hogwarts... not now that his magical education might mean the difference between life and-

"Oy!" shouted one of Dudley's gang from behind him, and Harry stopped walking. "Where do you think you're off to so early, Potter? Haven't seen you since your return from St. Brutus's... Not trying to avoid us, perhaps?"

Harry turned around slowly and faced them with a mingled expression of boredom and annoyance. "And why would I want to do that? You're such a pleasure to be around, after all..." His eyes flickered up and down Dudley's thick form. The boy was glowering at him resentfully, but did not appear brave enough to challenge him when Harry was clearly clutching his wand within his pocket. "You ought to call off your dogs, Dud."

"You gonna let him speak to us like that, Big D?"

Dudley fidgeted uncomfortably; he looked to be thinking up something to say, but his brain wasn't working all that fast. "Let's go boys, we can do him later-"

"You know what I think?" Malcolm started as he moved slowly towards Harry, "I think you've been dodging us all summer."

"Not that hard to dodge," retorted Harry. "Don't move that fast, do you? Besides, you don't want to see what I've been learning at St. Brutus's... turns out, shoelaces make a fine weapon..."

But this, it turned out, Malcolm and Piers moved much more quickly than Harry had expected and next thing he knew, Malcolm had him held up by the neck of his shirt, and Piers was laughing in his face.

"What have you got planned now, huh?" he mocked Harry. "Going to bleed me with your sock?"

"Thanks for the idea," Harry gasped, the fabric of his shirt tightening restrictively around his neck. He began pulling his wand from his pocket, unnoticed by the other two boys; Dudley, however, instantly recognized the maneuver.

"Boys, I said it's time to go. There's more important things to attend to than him." Dudley instructed with a bit more authority, glancing nervously at Harry. After a moment of begrudging hesitation, Malcolm set Harry back on the ground, and Piers backed away slowly, glaring malevolently.

"Next time, Potter," they promised, before following Dudley down the street where they turned a corner.

Harry watched them leave, straightening his clothes and patting his wand to be sure it was safely back in his pocket. He turned to head back to the safety of the house, but at the moment he turned, a cold, familiar voice drawled from behind, "Lovely display, Potter, really."

Harry would have known that voice anywhere. "Malfoy?" he questioned, feeling instantly alarmed. He drew his wand quickly from his pocket, but was abruptly jolted forward by an unknown impact with the back of his head. He whirled around frantically, vision spinning; he didn't like this. Malfoy was playing with him, and that couldn't be a good sign.

"Stop fooling around, Malfoy, and show yourself!" Harry demanded, backing away from where he thought the other boy must be standing.

Harry whirled around, looking for any sign of the boy. expecting to see empty space. Instead, he jumped back as he found himself standing nearly nose to nose Draco Malfoy. The boy was holding a stone; he tossed it up into the air and caught it again in an obvious display of bravado.

"A little payback for third year, you understand," Malfoy said, smirking and tossing the rock again. He then paused to sneer at Harry's overlarge clothes, which he'd apparently only just noticed. "My, my, those muggles really must hate you... You almost look worse than Weasley."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry said, jaws locked and clear green eyes focused warily on his potential opponent. He raised his wand, expecting Malfoy to counter. Malfoy, however, hadn't so much as drawn his. Harry stared around; he had been so certain Dumbledore would have someone watching him, but then where were they now?

"Calm yourself, Potter,' Malfoy said, folding his hands in front of him, "If I wanted to seriously hurt you, I could have already. Actually, I came to do something for you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What could you possibly do for me?"

"I came to deliver a warning," Malfoy said ominously, clearly savoring Harry's confusion. "You want to get out of here, Potter."

"What?"

"Are you deaf, or just stupid?" inquired Malfoy. "You need to find a way out of this…place… as soon as possible."

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Does it matter why?" Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised. "It should serve to tell you that if you don't leave, you and your…" he paused and wrinkled his nose, "…muggle relatives are in danger you could barely comprehend. So hop on your broom, hail the knight bus, it really doesn't matter… just make sure you're gone by this weekend." He smirked at Harry for a second. "If it will make you feel more receptive, I should tell you that I am acting purely out of self interest, here."

"Oh, yes, how comforting," Harry replied disdainfully.

"Listen, Potter," Malfoy said, stepping much closer than Harry felt comfortable with. "Believe me; I, more than anyone, want to see you fail. And yet, as I've watched my Father waste away in Azkaban this summer, I can't help but feel that perhaps he's on the losing side. The Dark Lord could set him free at any moment, and yet he rots... while I am expected to loyally take the Dark Mark when I come of age and serve the same master that punishes my entire family for my Father's failings. There must be some reason for the Dark Lord's obsession with you, and if you want my theory, I think you must be some sort of... well, I'm not certain, but the Dark Lord must see some threat in you that he hasn't in anyone else. And I, personally, would like to be remembered if he falls..."

"If you think I'm going to be your ticket out of Azkaban when all is said and done, you can think again Malfoy."

His voice almost a whisper, Malfoy responded through gritted teeth, "Potter, you idiot, I'm trying to tell you that I am being forced into servitude that I never chose for myself- simply because of my family, whom the Dark Lord has forsaken at a moments notice! I have more reason than any to hate you, but even through that, I can see that even a world where you are some hero" -Malfoy spat the word as though it were poison- "is better than one where the Dark Lord has won."

Harry did not respond for a moment, uncertain what to say and somewhat shocked by Malfoy's words. Impatiently, Malfoy glanced around as though worried that they were being watched, and said hurriedly, "You can take my warning or leave it. I hope you make the right choice, but I'm not going to beg to save your pathetic life. I just hope I'm making the right choice here, Potter."

He considered Harry for a moment, lip curled, before bringing his hand up to the necklace strung around his neck. Harry quickly realized that it was a Portkey. "Well… until the start of term, Potter… if you can make it that long."

With these parting words, Malfoy gave Harry a solemn nod and clutched the charm on the end of the necklace, disappearing from sight… and leaving Harry to decipher what he had just been told.

xxx

Chapter 2

The Watcher

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Harry walked numbly back to Number Four, his pace brisk and unfaltering. He ought to have known that something like this would happen if he dared to leave the house; and yet, perhaps it had been for the best that it did...

Was there anything to be believed about what Malfoy had told him? Was it even possible that he was contemplating such a notion? He arrived at the house and headed straight for the back garden, bewildered and unable to formulate a plan. He had always been one to act quickly; only a year ago, he might have made a break for Hogwarts and worried about the consequences later. However, considering the source of his information, and the consequences of his rash actions the year prior, he knew that he needed a moment to contemplate the possible outcomes of his actions before he committed to them.

Harry could hardly believe the difficult situation he was now facing. He knew that if he were at Hogwarts, the best plan would have been to consult any trusted adult. However, here in this muggle neighborhood, he had few options. Should he go to Mrs. Figg, urge her to contact Dumbledore? And even if he did, would Dumbledore allow him to leave Privet Drive, or think it a trap? He had said there was protection on the Dursleys' home... would that be sufficient to ward off whatever Malfoy was trying to warn him about?

Harry looked around, still half-expecting to see an Order member striding towards him at any moment. It occurred to him how odd it was that whoever was supposed to be on duty had done nothing the moment Malfoy had appeared- wasn't he exactly the type of person that they should be looking out for? It seemed not only irresponsible, but positively negligent. Here Harry was, at a complete loss for what to do, and someone in the area was failing to perform the one job they'd been given for the day.

It was maddening. If Harry couldn't be involved in the Order, he should at least by protected by it.

A wave of resentment came over Harry. These were the exact situations in which he was expected to stay calm in. "Keep your head"—that's what Lupin had been writing him all summer.

This was a time when he was supposed to sit back and let the adults handle everything, listen to instructions, and do what he was told. But where were the adults in times like these? Well, Harry didn't know, did he? And why? Because no one ever told him anything! No one ever bothered to let him know what was going on, tell him what to do in these situations, or inform him of the steps they were taking. Harry was tempted to do something rash and impulsive just to irritate them, to punish them, to prove his point… or… just to get them to show up.

An idea suddenly came to Harry. An idea that would get him what he wanted, but not hurt. And if it didn't work, then he would at least know that he was on his own, and then he could try and figure out what to do next.

Harry spun around, and threw his arms into the air.

"Hello?" he called, looking around expectantly for some sign that he was not alone. "Is anyone there?"

Still, no answer. Harry huffed in irritation, and continued complain—although it was now aimed more at himself than any mysterious unseen being. "What am I supposed to do? I had better get some answers, and I had better get them soon, because if I don't—"

A warm hand clamped down over his mouth; at least, he thought it was a hand. His eyes darted around frantically. The trouble was that he couldn't see anyone around him, though he felt a body pressed up against him, holding his arms at his side. He squirmed, trying to wiggle his fingers into his pocket to grab his wand. He couldn't reach it. Panic began to overwhelm him, but he quickly became aware of his captor as a familiar low voice spoke in his ear.

"If I let go of you, you will promise not to utter a single sound."

The voice was dangerous, and the words formed as though they'd been spoken through clenched teeth. Harry broke into an almost instantaneous cold-sweat; if he hadn't been nervous before, he certainly was now.

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"You will go into the house, and I will follow. Then—" the voice became deeper and more threatening. "We will have a little chat."

Though he was perfectly dry, Harry suddenly felt as though he'd been doused in a pail of ice-cold water. His stomach did somersaults as he realized to whom the voice belonged. He walked, legs slightly trembling, into the house, and was displeased to find the Dursleys gathered in the sitting room. They looked at him dumbly for a moment, and Harry knew his guard had arrived when their faces paled slightly.

Harry didn't have to turn around to know that Severus Snape was standing there, now completely visible. And he was indeed; Snape stepped around Harry towards the Dursleys.

"I am Professor Snape," he said, extending his hand. "A teacher at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon didn't shake hands; he only glared at him. Snape pulled his hand away; he appeared totally unmoved by the cold reception. Harry's Uncle Vernon stood; the way he puffed out his chest made it seem as though he were trying to intimidate the dark Potions Master, but Harry knew this was impossible.

With his beady eyes darting around quickly and his cheeks puffing in and out, Vernon looked very much as though he would like to physically throw Snape from the house. All he managed, though, due to Snape's terrifying presence, was a very snappish, "Yes?"

Snape's eyebrows lifted; he clearly hadn't been expecting such a reply. He quickly met Vernon's rude disposition, however, by narrowing his eyes and glaring down at him.

"I need a word with Potter, privately. So if you could excuse yourselves," said Snape abruptly, motioning towards the door.

"This is my house," Vernon started, a defiant scowl spread across his overlarge face. "I'll not be excusing myself from my own room."

Snape raised an eyebrow and responded articulately, "It really wasn't a request."

Dudley was slowly edging out of the room, noticeably trembling as he did so.

Snape looked in annoyance at the large boy cowering in fear, and then went on. "Mind you, you haven't much choice in the matter. The only choice you do have is whether or not to do so on your own terms."

Harry would have thought this appallingly rude if it had not been for the fact that these were the Dursleys. Vernon's face was turning a deep shade of magenta, and Petunia's thin lips were pursed so tightly that they almost looked permanently stuck together. Snape's subtle threat, however, seemed to overpower their desire to do anything more than glare nastily back at him.

Within mere minutes, Harry and Snape were alone. As Harry looked up into the stormy face of his Professor, he realized that he much preferred the company of the Dursleys.

Snape closed the door to the parlor with a harsh flick of his wand, and proceeded to close the blinds on the windows. He flourished his wand several times; Harry could only assume he was placing silencing charms on the room. He had obviously meant "privately" when he'd said it.

When he seemed satisfied that there would be no uninvited guests eavesdropping on the conversation, he turned his attention back to Harry.

"Sit," he said, pointing to a chair. Harry did as he was told.

"Well, Potter, are you satisfied?" Snape inquired icily, folding long arms and staring down at the boy through narrowed eyes. Harry stayed silent.

"You haven't any idea how much trouble this has caused, do you?" he asked with a sneer, shaking his head. "You couldn't have waited for me to call another Order member to your aid."

Still, Harry did not speak. He was both afraid and infuriated, and did not trust himself to respond.

"No, I'd thought not," continued Snape, paying little attention to Harry's lack of response. "Did it occur to you that there might be a reason no one had yet arrived? That is the problem with you, Potter. In your ignorance, you fail to see any reasoning other than your own."

Harry was literally biting his tongue; the pain was a reminder not to rise to Snape's bait. He had tried to see other reasoning; he'd stayed where he was, hadn't he? In fact, Harry felt he'd been quite clever to force someone to come to him, rather than wait around like a sitting duck.

"You may not be concerned with this, Potter," Snape continued spitefully. "Undoubtedly you feel you're worth the risk…" His lip curled unpleasantly as he gave Harry a contemptuous once-over. "But you put the entire Order, and especially my position, at stake. Should the Dark Lord find out that you are being guarded at all times, he will use that to his advantage, especially," Snape paused for emphasis, "if he finds out that Dumbledore trusts me with you. Right now, all he knows about you, in relation to me, is that I am your teacher. The Headmaster and I have purposely led him to believe that Dumbledore trusts no one with you, least of all myself," Snape finished.

Had someone else been lecturing him, these words might have made Harry feel guilty. However, he refused to allow Snape to affect any of his emotions. There was only one small voice in the back of his head that responded to the Professor's goading.

If you had considered the risks you were taking before, it said, then Sirius might not have died…

Harry's lips pressed together unconsciously, and he shook the former thought from his head. He would not allow Snape to make him feel this way; many of the things that had gone wrong the prior year were just as much Snape's fault as Harry's.

"Do you understand what would happen, Potter, if Malfoy were to tell the Dark Lord that he had witnessed me coming to your rescue, today?"

"Yes," Harry responded, even though he hadn't thought about it much at all.

"He might ask me to kill you, Potter," replied Snape as though he hadn't heard Harry's answer. "And though I would relish the opportunity," he continued snidely, "I doubt it would be well received by the Headmaster."

"So then I suppose you would have to spare me," Harry retorted.

"Yes, thereby condemning myself," agreed Snape. "I am certain you would enjoy that quite thoroughly. I do not, however, make these sacrifices for you, Potter. I will not."

"What for, then?"

"How exceedingly hubristic you can be, Potter. I do what Dumbledore asks of me, and my reasoning is no concern of yours."

"So what might you do, if you were asked to kill me?"

Snape looked down at him, eyes glinting indistinctly, expression inscrutable.

Harry wished he would answer, or look away. Something about the unreadable look on Snape's face was disquieting; Harry was unable to tell what was going on behind those dark eyes, behind the face that gave away nothing.

"Sometimes," Snape muttered at last, "I wonder if the reason you never use your head is that nothing is in it."

"Well, at least there's something in my heart," Harry replied quickly, uncharacteristically venomous. "Unlike yours. You've never loved a thing a day in your life."

The snarl that escaped Snape as he lunged forward several steps shocked Harry; he backed away, unintentionally falling into one of the Dursleys' plush recliners. He stared up at Snape as the man began to hiss his response.

"You think nothing of consideration for others, the rules and whom you affect by breaking them!" the dark man snapped, bringing his face close to Harry's own. "As long as things go the way you want them to, whom you hurt in the process does not matter to you. It is the same reckless ignorance that drove your Father and his idiot followers to death and despair. You have little concern, however, because you are Harry bloody Potter. I know—you lead such a difficult life, so you deserve the Order's undivided attention. You deserve to have people fawn over you and cater to your every need. You have spent so much time trying to get people to stop fussing over you, but now that they finally have, you want that back. You are like a petty schoolgirl fishing for compliments. You—"

"That's enough!" Harry snapped, getting to his feet. Snape's pale face was but inches from his own; Harry could see every hard line of his face pulled taught into a deadly glare. It did nothing to hold him back; his temper had reached its boiling point.

"I'm so sick of you acting like I'm so horrible, like I don't care for anyone but myself!" Harry shouted into his face. "You don't know how far from the truth that is! And as for getting on my case about breaking rules, I don't see where you have any room to talk! At least when I break them, it's usually for a good reason! But you! Should I really be listening to lectures about right and wrong from a Death Eater?"

The moment the words had escaped his lips, Harry knew he'd made a very big mistake. His eyes widened slightly, and he drew back, awaiting his Professor's reaction. Part of him was worried; after all, the doors were locked—he had nowhere to bolt if Snape responded to his defiance with the same amount of fury he had the previous year…

There were a few moments of deadly silence in which Snape seemed to be deciding exactly what to do; his teeth were clenched so tightly that Harry could hear them grinding together from inside his mouth.

"You really want to discuss the past, Potter?" Snape finally hissed spitefully. He didn't need to say any more to strike a nerve, and he knew it. A triumphant smirk crept onto his face.

Harry glared at him, dying to retort- he could point out the fact that the only reason his past had been so miserable was the lowlifes who had nothing better to make of themselves than gratuitous minions to Voldemort, desperate for some sense of power to compensate for their cowardice. He bit back on these words, however, and remained silent. He didn't think he could handle another one of the man's tirades, chalked full of insults to him and his family - or what would have been his family…

"That's what I thought," Snape said with a satisfied nod of his head. He swept his wand around the room and stepped towards the door.

"Someone will be here to collect you soon. Until then, stay here."

With one last dark glance at Harry, Snape disillusioned himself once again and disappeared from sight. The only sign that he had left was the banging of the door as it closed behind him.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 3

The Results

xxx

Harry watched Snape go… or rather, he watched the door close; Snape was impossible to see. He glared after the man; how he hated him. He had to turn everything into something that Harry had done wrong. Draco had waltzed onto Privet Drive and plainly stated a million things that Harry wasn't even permitted to write in a letter!

But then, this was the way things always went. Snape would make excuses for any of his Slytherins, but with Harry, he was always at fault in some way.

Harry left the room, and started towards his own. He passed the Dursleys on the way, and was almost at the stairs when he heard Uncle Vernon shouting, "Harry Potter!"

Harry grudgingly turned and made his way back to the living room. He had nearly made it to safety, too. He walked into the room, and Uncle Vernon was on his feet; Aunt Petunia was standing behind him with her arms crossed, and the same nasty expression on her face she'd had a short while ago.

"Yes?" Harry said testily. He didn't care if his Uncle blew up at him. A member of the order would be here soon anyways, and he would be gone.

"What was that- man- doing here?" Vernon said, making it sound as though Harry had invited him.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Harry said very matter-of-factly, feigning a look of innocence. "It's top secret."

"Top secret, eh," Vernon fumed. "And what's so "top secret" about it? Are you planning something boy, heh? Common, out with it! What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to know about." Harry said, crossing his arms. Even if he did try to explain, his uncle would never believe him. Was there any point to it?

"You're sneaking around again boy, and I don't like it!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, causing Aunt Petunia to give a little jump. "Last summer, you spent all your time trying to listen in on the radio and television set, and then Dudley was attacked by those, demendy things. Then, next thing I know, my whole family's in danger, and you're being willingly abducted from my house when I'm on my way to a false lawn ceremony! So what is it this time? Why was that man here?"

"Well, it doesn't matter why," Harry said, wondering if Uncle Vernon had forgotten about the incident with Aunt Marge and her rapid inflation. "Someone will be here to collect me soon; that's all you need to know. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go pack. I don't think you want me to have to tell them I haven't because I was too busy being interrogated by you."

Vernon looked as if he didn't quite know what to say to this, so after several moments of angry but stumped sputtering, he finally managed a "Fine," through his clenched teeth.

Harry gave him a very sarcastic smile and nod before turning and darting down the hall and up the stairs to his room. He began throwing everything into his trunk, excited to be leaving. He wondered vaguely who would be coming to collect him. He hoped it would be someone like Tonks or Mr. Weasley, someone he liked.

He stepped over to Hedwig's cage, and opened up the hatch, taking her out onto his arm. She gave him a doleful hoot and blinked her large amber eyes at him; she'd been put to little use this summer, and it seemed to put a damper on her normally bright disposition.

"I'm gonna let you go, now, girl," He said quietly, stroking her beak. "You can come and find me; I know you're good at that. But I have to go, and it's too difficult for me to carry you with me. Here," He gave her an owl treat and carried her to the window. "Find me soon; I may be needing you," he said, and released her into the pink evening sky.

Harry watched as Hedwig disappeared into the distance, and then finished packing his things. Then, he took one last look around his room to insure that he hadn't forgotten anything, and sat down on the bed to await his escort. Not but fifteen minutes later, he heard the doorbell ring downstairs. He leapt off his bed and rushed downstairs to greet the door. He swung it open, and was thrilled to see Bill Weasley standing there, a mischievous smirk gracing his face. He looked just the same as always, he had a long fang earring dangling from his ear, and his flaming orange hair was tied back into a low ponytail.

"One moment," Harry said breathlessly (He had literally run down to the entryway). "My things are upstairs. I'll run get them." With that, he turned and once again bounded up the stairs. He reappeared only a moment later, trunk dragging behind him and cage banging at his side. Bill smiled at him and took the cage. He then performed a shrinking charm on it and the trunk, then placing both into the sack that was hanging over his own shoulder, and turned back to Harry.

"Where are your relatives?" Bill asked, looking around. He seemed slightly surprised that they had not yet come to see Harry off. Harry, however, knew better than to expect this.

"Oh, they don't care that I'm going." Harry said, not the slightest bit of disappointment in his voice. "But I suppose I should let them know I'm off, yeah?"

Bill nodded, an eyebrow raised; no doubt used to Mrs. Weasley's mollycoddling, the Dursleys' indifference was probably quite a shock, Harry mused.

Harry went into the room where the Dursleys were again sitting in front of the television. "Well, I'm off then." He said. Then, taking their silence as a a goodbye, he headed back down the hall towards Bill.

"Ready?" asked Bill.

"Ready." Harry said with a nod.

And out the door they went. They started walking down the street, and Harry turned to Bill. "Where are we going?" He asked.

"There's a Port Key down the street that will take us to a phone booth near headquarters." Bill replied.

Harry was longing to ask the dozens of questions running through his mind, but kept his mouth shut. Last year, he'd been escorted by an entire guard, and they had had to fly all the way to number 12. Why was it that he could now be taken by Portkey with only Bill Weasley to protect him? The only thing Harry could figure was that the whole process had been made much easier with cooperation from the ministry; he hoped he would have the opportunity to learn just what they'd done to try and make up for their negligence in the past.

Soon, they were standing in the same alleyway where Harry had been attacked just before fifth year, and Bill was searching through the Dumpster for the portkey. He reemerged seconds later with a half-eaten sandwich, and extended it to Harry. Harry looked at it apprehensively, nose crinkled in disgust. The second he'd grabbed hold of it, he felt a familiar jerk behind his navel, and they were on their way.

Just as Bill had promised, they were soon sitting in a telephone booth just around the corner from 12 Grimmauld place.

"So," Bill said, placing a silencing ward on the booth. "Before we get to headquarters, where you'll be pleased to know Snape is at the moment," He added in obvious irony, "What exactly did you do to make him so angry?"

Harry rolled his eyes and avoided the question- he wasn't exactly proud of the way he had interacted with Snape, but he had so much trouble controlling his emotions where he was concerned. "Didn't he say?" Harry lowered his voice in his best imitation of Snape. "As usual, Potter has flouted the rules... arrogant, selfish, rash, impulsive idiot that he is-"

"Well," Bill started, "To be honest, it was a bit of ranting and raving...rather hard to make out... thought I might get a more direct account from you." Then, seemingly feeling guilty for having criticized a fellow Order member, he added, "I had Snape as a teacher all the years I was at Hogwarts. Believe me, I know it's no picnic. But he is a good man."

Harry gave him a dubious look, but said nothing. They had soon arrived at the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, and had shortly entered.

Harry had barely stepped in the door when he heard squealing and was suddenly attacked by a very excited Hermione Granger. She held onto him for a moment, and then stepped back to look at him.

"You've not grown!" were the first words out of her mouth. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and then saw the reason for her surprise. Ron was walking up behind her, and he had grown quite a bit. Strangely, he'd lost much of his awkwardness. He stood much taller, and seemed to have filled out a bit.

"Hey Harry," Ron said, giving Harry a bright smile. "We were hoping you'd be coming soon. We were—" Ron was interrupted by a very loud crash coming from the kitchen, and then Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"Now, really, Severus, I understand you're upset, but you could practice a little more care. Honestly…"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, and Hermione turned to Harry. "Why don't you come upstairs and drop your stuff?" She asked. Ron followed her lead.

"Yes, and I must show you my new broom kit. It's spectacular…"

They each grabbed one of Harry's arms and led him up the stairs. Once they were safely locked in the room, they turned to Harry.

Hermione had a very stern look on her face, showing no signs of amusement. Ron, however, was chuckling, his freckly cheeks cheerily wrinkled on his face.

"What did you do?" Ron asked.

"Was he really that angry?" said Harry.

"Yes, Harry." Hermione said, not the smallest trace of a smile on her face. "He said you were becoming too comfortable insulting him, and he had had enough, and if Dumbledore was going to let you have your way for another year after wha- I mean..."

"After what happened last year?" Harry finished for her, his voice cold.

"That's just what he said," she replied in a small voice, seemingly regretting having said it. "But really, Harry, couldn't you try to be a bit more respectful? Keep the peace?"

"Oh, come off it Hermione! You know Snape's never rational- even Dumbledore doubted he wasn't exaggerating!"

"Why?" Harry interjected. "What exactly did he say I did?"

"Well," Ron said, smile fading. "He started by talking about how you just barely restrained yourself when Dudley and his friends simply entered the yard—"

Harry's jaw dropped. "I did a very good job restraining myself, thank you very much, and they were threatening me!"

"Harry," Hermione hissed, "keep it down."

Harry frowned, but shut his mouth.

"Then," Ron went on, "He told Dumbledore how Malfoy had come to give you a warning, and you'd met it with a very hostile attitude,"

Harry opened and closed his mouth, looking as though he were about to object again. Ron held up a hand. "Hang on, mate, let me finish. Then he went on about how you'd started shouting things at the top of your lungs, and if he hadn't been there you probably would've spilled all the Order's secrets."

Harry's anger was intensifying. He hadn't put anyone at risk, and Snape knew it.

Ron continued. "Then, he continued to rant about how when he tried to point out how dangerous it had been and instruct you to exercise more caution in the future, you'd started yelling at him and saying that you refused to take this kind of advice from a Death Eater." Ron finished.

There was a short silence; Harry blinked several times, standing there in shock. Then, he started slowly. "And he said this to…"

"Dumbledore, but Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, McGonagall, and I were in the room at the time." Hermione said tentatively. "But Harry, is it true?"

"Well of course not!" Harry spat. "I mean... not to that extent!" He paused. "Did Dumbledore believe him?"

"Not sure." Ron said. "Bill volunteered to go get you, and Dumbledore looked furious. He asked to speak to Snape alone, and we don't know what went on. Dumbledore kept him for about forty minutes. That was why we hurried you up the stairs; Snape had just finished speaking with him."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He then opened his mouth, about to explain everything, when there was a knock on the door. Hermione jumped up to open it, and Albus Dumbledore was standing there, a firm look on his face.

"I need to speak with Harry." He said. "If you wouldn't mind, I think this would be a good place for a private word."

Hermione didn't say anything, she simply nodded and signaled Ron to follow her. They left the room quietly, giving Harry looks of sympathy as they did so.

Dumbledore shut the door after them, and turned back to Harry. His eyes didn't have their usual sparkle, and he looked very serious. He sat down in the chair across the room from where Harry was seated on the bed.

"So, Harry," He started quietly, "Do you want to tell me exactly what happened back at Privet Drive?"

Harry immediately began to object to Snape's claims. "Professor, Ron and Hermione told me everything that Snape said, and none of it is true! He completely—"

Dumbledore held up a silencing hand. "Harry, I asked you to tell me what happened. I have no interest in hearing your accusations of Professor Snape. Now, is it not true that you threatened those boys who came into your backyard?"

"Yes, but—"

"And when Mr. Malfoy came, did you not pull out your wand and meet him with a hostile disposition?"

"Yes, but—"

"And when Professor Snape spoke to you in the house, did you not become angry with him and point out the fact that he has broken a fair number of rules himself?"

"YES! But—"

"Well, then, you can hardly say that nothing he said was true. Now, since we've clarified that these things did occur, I'm interested in hearing your version of how they occurred."

Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering what was going on in his head. He then launched into a full rendition of his part of the story, and five minutes later, Dumbledore was surveying him carefully over his half-moon spectacles.

"Professor," Harry said. "You have to believe me. I may have lost control of my temper, but certainly not to the extent Snape said I did."

"Ok," Dumbledore said, nodding. This surprised Harry.

"But I must tell you, Harry, that while I am proud that you put so much consideration into your actions, you do need to be more respectful of your professor. He is owed that consideration by you. I had a word with him about his behavior, and this is my word to you about yours. Please, for everyone's sake, you two must put aside some of your contempt for one another. You didn't learn the Occlumency last year,"

"That wasn't entirely my fault!" Harry exclaimed defensively. "He didn't even try to teach me, and then he threw me out—"

"And he shouldn't have, but you did invade his privacy. You yourself admitted to me that you did not practice as you should have... could this perhaps have anything to do with your resentment towards Professor Snape?"

Harry thought for a moment, and though he wouldn't admit it, he decided Dumbledore was right.

Dumbledore nodded. "I need you to apply yourself Harry. You will be starting lessons with Professor Snape again this year—"

"Occlumency lessons?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Why him? Why not you?"

"We've been over this Harry. It really is a risk, allowing you that kind of access to my mind. You are safer with Professor Snape. And yes," He said, seeing the look on Harry's face, "I do still trust him."

"But why?" Harry said. "And how?"

"I have my reasons." Dumbledore said very quietly. "So, will you promise to try a little harder to get along with him?"

Harry hesitated, and then grudgingly nodded.

"And you'll put some effort into learning what he teaches you?"

Harry nodded, staring hard at the floor.

"Thank you." Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. "Oh, and I thought you'd be wanting these."

Harry looked up, and Dumbledore was holding an envelope in his hand, the old twinkle had found its way back into his eyes. Harry took the envelope and opened it. They were his O.W.L. scores. He looked back up at Dumbledore, who smiled at him, and left the room with a reassuring nod.

Harry looked back down at the tri-folded pieces of paper in his hands, and slowly opened them. He looked down at the first piece of paper. It held his History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy scores. History of Magic was a good grade; he had an E (he supposed they must have graded him based upon the questions he had managed to answer). He didn't bother reading the comments; he would do that later. He had barely scraped an A in Divination, but he didn't care, he planned on dropping it this year anyways. He was sure that they had graded on a curve for Astronomy, because he had an A, and he hadn't had any founded excuse for not finishing.

He went on to the next paper. It displayed his Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology scores. He'd managed an E in Transfiguration, which he was very proud of due to the fact that it was such a difficult subject. He had an O in Care of Magical Creatures, which brought a huge smile to his face. He hoped it would cushion the fall for Hagrid, he had to somehow tell him that he was dropping the class this year. He had another O in Herbology, which he could only credit to all of Hermione's help in that class.

With a smile, he unraveled the next page. This one showed his Defense against the Dark Arts and Charms scores. He wondered why they hadn't been able to put the third subject on there as they'd done on the previous pages, until he looked at all his comments for DADA. He'd earned an O in that subject, with many positive comments on his skills. He read them over, and smiled to himself. Someone had recommended that he enter the aurors program… perhaps he would. He'd also received an O in charms, which he could hardly believe.

Harry unfurled the last page with some trepidation; there was only one score left. Potions. He opened it up, and with one glance at his score, his jaw dropped. He had received an O… and at the bottom of the page was a personal note from McGonagall.

Potter,

Congratulations! You have met all the requirements for the classes needed to qualify for the Auror program. I have taken the liberty of putting all of the classes down that you need, and you may choose which electives to take. You'll notice a new list of options is on there, and I've made notes next to my recommendations. Congratulations again, you did it!

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Harry had made it into Snape's potions class… He sat there in utter shock.

"I don't believe it." He said to himself.

xxx End Chapter 3 xxx

Chapter 4

Preparation

xxx

A relatively uneventful week had passed at 12 Grimmauld Place. Much to Harry's surprise, and equally to his concern, there were few order members spending time at the small house. Not unlike the summer before, he had pictured a bustling house full of interesting events; and, not unlike the summer before, he had envisioned Ron and Hermione being party to them while he was kept in the dark. However, now that he was here, he could see that this couldn't be further from the truth.

There was one upside to the relative lack of acitivity, however: Snape hadn't shown his greasy face once since Harry's last encounter with him. And after that encounter, Harry was in no hurry to meet him again. Every time he heard the door slam, he retreated further into the house, avoiding the new visitor until he was certain it wasn't the Potions Master. When Dumbledore visited, he avoided him as well, burning with embarrassment at the thought of their last encounter and yet feeling slightly defiant towards the feeling.

Normally, Harry would have been hoping for some word from the Headmaster. The man had spent the whole past year avoiding him, and Harry had wanted answers. Now, however, the last person he wanted wandering the halls of his current residence was someone who could, as the phrase goes, read him like a book. It wasn't that Harry was hiding anything, per se, but it was bad enough trying to convince his friends that he was fine. When it came to the Headmaster, Harry seriously doubted his ability to stare into those damned twinkling, understanding blue eyes and insist that he wasn't suffering.

And if there was one thing that Harry was, it was certainly suffering.

If Harry had felt Sirius' absence before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. This place was a harsh reminder; the halls which Harry had once walked with his Godfather were now often empty, and what little joy Sirius had brought to the house was now gone. As much as he appreciated being away from the Dursleys, the memories that lingered in this dark and dingy building were almost worse than anything he would have endured there.

To add insult to injury, Kreacher, whom Harry very much regarded as responsible for Sirius' death, was still lurking around the halls, muttering gleefully that "nasty mistress's son is gone". The house, having been left to Dumbledore for the Order's purposes, had come with the house elf included in the title, and the Headmaster had expressly forbidden that anyone should dismiss or harm him. Harry scowled at the thought and kicked a nearby pillow, imagining darkly that it was Kreacher.

There was a part of Harry that had to scoff at his own weakness. It wasn't as though he was a stranger to grief; truthfully, he felt that by now, he should have been strong enough to accept the loss of his Godfather with grace. After all, he had endured many losses throughout his life. He had lived his entire life without the comfort of a parent to guide him. He had watched a fellow classmate drop dead on his account. He had been scorned by teachers and the public alike, falsely accused and punished on various occasions. No, Harry's life had been one long series of iniquities, so why was he so strongly affected by what seemed to be just another event to add to the list?

Despite all that had transpired in what felt like an extremely long sixteen years, Harry still could not suppress the loss that haunted his thoughts. The promise of something that resembled a true family had been extinguished in a mere moment. Sirius had been the closest thing to a father Harry had ever really experienced… and now he was gone.

Harry did his best to keep himself busy, trying to distract himself from his melancholy thoughts. He had no interest in sharing his feelings with others, and the best way to keep them from asking questions was to behave as though nothing was wrong. For this reason, he had been extremely grateful for the Weasleys' company this week. Though they were not at the headquarters every day, Harry spent much of his time visiting at the Burrow when they were unable to be with him at Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore had specified that he stay at the house for protection, but Mrs. Weasley had insisted it was "unhealthy to spend too much time in that house, all things considered".

The Weasley house was very much the same as usual, and for this, Harry was grateful. Mrs. Weasley fussed over Harry as much as one of her own children, and Mr. Weasley persisted in asking Harry the oddest questions about muggle inventions; this normality was exactly what Harry needed.

Harry did miss the key element, however, of Fred and George; true to their word, they had started a joke shop in Diagon Alley with Harry's Triwizard winnings and now resided in the flat above it. Harry and Ron hoped they would soon be able to visit, but dared not mention it; Mrs. Weasley seemed torn between pride and disapproval, for they were successful, but in the very way that she had discouraged from the beginning.

Harry passed the time over the next week practicing Quidditch moves with Ron and sometimes Ginny, in between homework sessions with Hermione, who'd been shocked to find all that he had left for the end of the summer. He didn't much relish the idea of explaining that he'd been much too miserable to bother with learning the misuses of memory charms in the 19th century, so he endured her chiding silently and gratefully accepted her help. By the time the last week before the start of term arrived, Harry was feeling much more ready to face the year.

It was early in the morning on a Monday when Harry was shaken from a peaceful sleep by the sound of Ron shouting his name. He opened his eyes with a start, and looked up at his tall, red-headed friend, who was still shaking him.

"I'm up- I'm up, Ron."

"Oh," said Ron, backing off. "I was beginning to think something was wrong with you."

Harry shrugged and decided against mentioning the dreamless sleep potion he'd bought from Mundungus; he didn't want Ron to know he'd been having nightmares. He squinted hard at his friend and observed, "Mate, I think your shirt's on backwards."

"Oh, right," Ron said sheepishly, turning his sweater around. Clearing his throat as he did so, he told Harry, "Anyway, sorry to wake you so early; Mum reckons we better get a move on. The earlier we get there, the emptier Diagon Alley will be, and considering all the papers..."

"Right," Harry remarked. Since the end of last summer, he'd been frequently featured in the Daily Prophet- now lauded a hero, despite the very different message they'd been spreading the year prior. He was glad not to be called a liar but annoyed at the sudden attention from those who had previously seen him as such. He fumbled around on the night stand before coming across his spectacles and placing them atop the bridge of his nose. "Right," he said again, voice raspy. "Let me get dressed, I'll meet you downstairs."

"Sure," replied Ron, already heading for the door. "Just hurry up- Mum's in a right state getting everyone up and about."

"Yeah, fine," Harry muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and dressing quickly.

The inviting aroma of eggs and bacon instantly greeted Harry as he entered the kitchen and he was reminded of how deeply he loved Mrs. Weasley's cooking. A grin spreading across his cheeks as he approached the table, he noticed that Ron and Hermione had the post before them. Stepping a little closer, he could see that Hermione was pouring over their class schedules.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said absently, sliding his Hogwarts letter across the table to him.

Harry thanked her and sat down across from the her and Ron. He was struck by the difference in their expressions; in moments like these, it could not be more obvious how different his friends were. While Hermione seemed delighted at the prospect of the beginning of another year, Ron's face had drooped into an unattractive frown, his hair tousled—a sure sign that he had been, out of pure frustration, burying his fists in it moments before.

Harry looked from his friends back down the parchment in his hands. Brow wrinkling just slightly, he unfolded it and looked it over. He, like Ron and Hermione, had dropped Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. He was still worried about how Hagrid would take this, but then, he didn't know when he would see Hagrid again. He was awfully busy; he'd only sent one letter to Harry over the summer, and it had been very short (not unlike Harry's other mail).

There were several new classes being offered, and their schedules were much more conflicting than in previous years. Within no time, however, Hermione had worked out which free hours they would share and was wondering whether or not Ron and Harry would have time for Quidditch.

According to Ron, Harry found out a short explosion later, there was always time for Quidditch.

Shortly after they'd finished breakfast, Mrs. Weasley was piloting them to the fireplace; they were to use the Floo Network to get to Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley sent each of them in turn before following herself.

"Now, we've got a lot to accomplish today, so I expect it's best if we split up," Mrs. Weasley announced briskly she stepped out of the grate. She stared hard at their school lists for a brief moment, then handed them out accordingly. "Perhaps you three had better stay together," she said after what seemed to be some deliberation, "And Ginny and I will go together." Behind her, Ginny's jaw dropped in objection and she turned her wide eyes to them in an appeal for help. Mrs. Weasley glanced at Ginny and caught sight of her expression. "You're only fifteen," she reminded her daughter.

"Thanks, I'd forgotten that," Ginny mumbled, crossing her arms. "Listen- can't I just go along with them? We'll be fine, I swear-"

"I'm sure you will be, but I've enough to be getting on with at the moment without worrying about my youngest getting hurt."

"So it's alright if I'm hurt then, eh Mum? Since I'm not the youngest-" Ron was cut off sharply by a hard blow to the ribs from Hermione's elbow.

"Oh, I worry about you Ron, but I've long since accepted there's no separating you three- and with Hermione with you and all..."

Hermione beamed with pride while Ron glared at her sideways.

"Mum, I'm almost just as old as them-" Ginny resumed her argument.

"Almost being the key word, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, come along and keep your poor Mother company."

Ginny's lips pressed into a fine line reminiscent of her Mother's own expressions, but she begrudgingly replied, "Fine, fine..."

"Good, that's settled then," Mrs. Weasley said, looking pleased. "Now, we ought to meet back here in two hours time. Remember to stay on the main street, don't go wandering off anywhere you shouldn't be. No Knockturn Alley, no dark corner venues; I don't care what the reason is, if I find you've been anywhere unseemly, you've all had it. Am I quite clear?" And though her tone was stern, her expression held both affection and worry.

"Yes Mum," Ron said dutifully, if not a bit wearily, while Harry and Hermione nodded beside him.

"Alright then; be safe, I'll see you soon," said Mrs. Weasley, and she and Ginny (still looking quite petulant) set off down the lane.

"Well, we haven't got much time," Hermione commented looking over their lists, "so we best get going. Bookshop first, I think."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks; wandering into Flourish and Blotts with Hermione was almost certain to result in a very long, and very dull, trip. Still, they trailed behind her, happy to let her do the work of ferreting out the required texts for this year.

"Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," Hermione muttered, handing off three copies to Ron, who jolted with their unexpected weight. "A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, yes, we'll need three of those... Advanced Potion Making, one of those..."

"Erm- two," said Harry, only just realizing that he hadn't told Ron and Hermione about his O.W.L.

"Sorry?" said Hermione offhandedly, turning and looking at him as she rubbed her ear, apparently thinking she hadn't heard correctly.

"Two copies of Advanced Potion Making... I need one too."

"But Harry, you need an O for Professor Snape's... you didn't... I mean, did you?"

"Yeah, I did." Harry almost felt insulted by her incredulity, but he reminded himself that he had felt similar feelings of doubt upon receiving his results.

"But, how?" asked Ron, similarly dumbstruck by this information.

"There's got to be a mistake," Hermione said suddenly, and Harry scowled.

"What does that mean, Hermione?"

"Well, I'm sorry Harry-" she said, and she truly looked it, "But there's just no way you could have earned that grade!"

"Well, I didn't cheat, if that's what you're saying!" Harry exclaimed, a bit louder than he should have- several people nearby glanced nervously at him, then his scar, and scattered away.

"No, no, Harry- I would never accuse you of- you just, you have to admit, it's a bit suspicious..."

"I think you should just accept it for what it is, mate- it's the only way you're going to be an Auror, after all," Ron interjected, shrugging his shoulders.

"Wait- wait a minute. Harry, your meeting with Professor McGonagall- did you... tell her that you wanted to be an Auror?"

"Well, of course, seeing as that's the truth," Harry responded. Now that he thought of it, McGonagall had said she would do whatever it took to personally ensure that he became an Auror... but that had been because of-

"And wasn't Umbridge sitting in on that meeting?"

"Yes..." said Harry slowly, now wondering why Hermione was bringing up that woman.

"So don't you think that it's quite convenient that now, when the Ministry most needs your forgiveness and support... you just so happen to make the grade you need for the thing they know you want?"

Harry did not immediately reply. Little though he wanted to admit it, Hermione had proposed wilder theories before which had turned out to be true. Reluctantly, he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I suppose that could be true, but..."

"I think you ought to request a copy of your test results," Hermione responded at once, her tone businesslike.

"Why would he do that?" Ron asked with his eyes narrowed, as though he suspected where this was going.

"Well, Harry's not going to turn a blind eye to this kind of blatant academic dishonesty, is he?" She asked incredulously, looking from Ron to Harry. Then, with a look of comprehension at Harry's reluctant expression, she asked accusatorily, "Are you?"

"Course he is," Ron said on Harry's behalf when he failed to respond for himself. "You don't look that kind of gift in the horse's mouth, do you?"

"That's not the expression-" Hermione started to say impatiently; then, refusing to be sidetracked, shook her head and looked back to Harry. "Harry, promise me you'll at least ask for a copy of your score report. It's the right thing to do. If you did become an Auror, down the road, you could be subject to all sorts of accusations if anyone ever does come to find that someone did you an unfair favor in order to get you there. And maybe you'll find that's not the case... but don't you want to be sure that you earned this?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry admitted, somewhat resentfully. Hermione didn't look entirely convinced that he had taken her point to heart, but seeming to choose to end the argument for now, she consulted their book list again and moved on to the next title. "Alright, three copies of Striking the Enemy and The Legal Guide to Offensive Magic..." She began muttering to herself again as she turned down the next aisle of books and disappeared from sight.

"Come off it, I say... I'd love the chance to be an Auror," Ron said, almost to himself, shaking his head as they followed Hermione at a distance. "Though, I'm not exactly in line to spend another year with Snape... that in itself might be a reason to get your score report, Harry. Another year with Snape, when you have a choice? Blimey."

Privately, Harry thought he had a valid point.

The last stop of the day was Madame Malkin's; their list for this year stated that they needed "dueling robes" for their new class, Offensive Magic. Mounted on display in the very back of the store were lightweight, form-fitted black robes with silver embroidery lining the edges. Hermione was the first to spot them, and alerted the boys with a gasp.

"Oh, they're beautiful," she said in awe, instantly moving towards them to assail the edges with her fingertips. Hermione was not a vain girl; her excitement was explicable—these were much nicer than their standard Hogwarts robes. Ron, however, gazed at the display apprehensively, hand unconsciously moving towards his pocket, which Harry knew held the little money he had. "How much are they?" Ron asked in a would-be casual way, if not for the clear doubt written in his face.

Harry walked over to them and lifted the tag. He instantly winced; the robes cost twenty-five galleons per set, a price he knew was much higher than Ron was prepared to pay. "They're erm- ten galleons," he lied, privately hoping he had guessed the right number.

"Oy, that's steep," Ron remarked, counting the coins in the small sack his Mother had given him to shop with. "Looks like I've got just enough, though- lucky I don't need potions supplies this year."

"Right," Harry remarked, grabbing two sets of robes for he and Ron. "Listen, why don't you just give me your money and I'll take them up? You can keep Hermione company while she selects a color." He nodded in her direction as she fingered some deep maroon robes across the aisle.

Ron looked less than pleased at the prospect of shopping, but shrugged his shoulders and handed his money to Harry, who hurried away before he could change his mind.

Two hours had passed rather more quickly than Harry had expected, he reflected as they stepped out of the shop and he checked his watch. "We've got to be back in ten minutes- too bad, I was hoping to see Fred and George's shop..." Harry commented as they set off to meet Mrs. Weasley.

"I was just getting worried," Mrs. Weasley said as they approached, stepping forward to wave them off the street, which was becoming busier as the day went on.

"They're fifteen minutes early, Mum," Ginny reminded her flatly. Her expression was tired and filled with annoyance.

"Yes, well, even so," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly, ushering them back to the public fireplace. "There's been a slight change of plans, actually.""Of course, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her expression instantly softening as she turned her attention on him. "But… there has been a slight change of plans."

"A… good change of plans?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer from her tone.

"I'm afraid not," Mrs. Weasley replied, shaking her head. "I've received a message from Dumbledore- he wishes you to return to Hogwarts this evening."

"What? Why?" Harry questioned sharply.

"I'm really not sure, dear," she answered apologetically. Lowering her "Dawlish turned up at Dervish and Banges looking for you, but I told him I would escort you when we'd finished. You know I'd have you stay the entire holiday if you could, but Dumbledore-"

"Yeah, Dumbledore..." Harry muttered. As usual, that was all he needed to know.

xxx end chapter 4 xxx

Chapter 5

A Sickening Realization

xxx

It was very early in the morning and the castle was still quite dark as Severus Snape headed towards the headmasters office in hurry. He had just come from a Death Eaters meeting, and learned some very disturbing news.

The Dark Lord had hatched a new plan for Harry Potter, and it ended in something much more horrific than death.

The cloaked man arrived at the statue and muttered the password before hurriedly climbing the revolving staircase to Dumbledore's office. He came to the door and knocked. He waited a few moments for a response before deciding to enter; the Headmaster might still be asleep, but Severus would rouse him. His matter was much too urgent to wait until the sun came up.

Severus pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. Once he was inside, it seemed to him that the headmaster was not asleep; the lights were still on and there was an abundance of books spread from one corner of the office to the other.

Severus stepped closer to the desk, curious as to what the headmaster had been researching. He picked up a book and raised his eyebrows. It was a book on heritage, and the page was turned to a paragraph on father/son similarities and relationships. Severus set the book down and picked up the one next to it. Again, he was perplexed. The heading of the page read, "Psychology for the Burdened; How to be the Bearer of Bad News."

Severus shook his head and replaced the book; Dumbledore was always meddling in things that he shouldn't. He glanced towards the door to Dumbledore's room; the light was on underneath. Severus decided he would wait a few moments to see if Dumbledore came out on his own, and while he waited, he looked around in curiosity.

His eyes came to rest on Dumbledore's pensieve perched tentatively on the ledge of a shelf. Severus rolled his eyes at its precarious positon and rose to move it to a safer location. Honestly, if the thing shattered and those memories were lost... he shuddered at the apparent carelessness. His hands clasped the pensieve and he moved across the room to set it on the nearest clear surface- something difficult to find in this cluttered office. As he set it down, however, something appeared in the silver mist, something that made him freeze in his tracks. It was Lily. His Lily— no, Potter's Lily. She had tears running down her face, and Severus could see that she was in Dumbledore's office, talking to him. His lip curled in disgust; she was probably speaking to him about her arse of a husband.

Suddenly, her face had appeared at the surface. She was still speaking, but very quietly. Severus made to turn away… but something stopped him. He could see her lips moving, forming around syllables very similar to the ones that formed his own name. He could have sworn he even heard her soft voice saying, "Severus."

Severus cast a glance around the office. No sign of Dumbledore. Though he knew he ought not to, he couldn't resist... what had the Headmaster spoken with her about that Severus did not know of? Why was he viewing the memory again now, after all these years? Placing his hands on the edges of the table, he lowered his face slowly into the silver mist, and felt a swirling sensation as he was tugged downward... landing on the front doorstep of a home he had inhabited long ago.

Severus watched himself open the door to Lily, greeting her warmly, and instantly recognized it as the last night they'd ever civilly spoken. But he had not given Dumbledore this memory... it must have been Lily's.

Lily was standing in the doorway of the large home they'd once shared, blocking the entrance as Severus shivered on from his spot on the bottom step of the porch. "I've been waiting in front of the window for you all day," she said smilingly, cocking her head and smiling down at him. "I was beginning to think you'd never arrive."

"Waiting?" Snape inquired, eyebrows raised, before stepping up to her level and pulling her to him. "I should have you arrested for stalking..."

"I'd like to see you try," she said, kissing him warmly and taking his hand to lead him inside.

The younger Snape smiled at this as she led him to the couch to sit down. The older Severus watched Lily intently while his younger self moved to the kitchen. He watched closely as he returned to the living area and handed her a cup of black tea; he specifically remembered something having changed in her demeanor after this moment, and he had never quite been able to pinpoint exactly what had happened to cause such an abrupt change that night; he watched her closely, with a mixture of dread and anticipation.

It happened so quickly it might have been imagined. His sleeve had fallen back as he extended the cup of tea- just barely, but enough to see the freshly etched Dark Mark upon his inner forearm. Yes- why had he never seen it before? He had just taken the mark, so certain that this was the only way to keep the Dark Lord from harming them- from destroying the life he had finally built with the woman he had loved all through his childhood. How young and stupid he had been- if only he had realized his mistake then.

Severus paced halfway around the room to see her face, and knew as soon as he saw the dismay in her expression that she had seen the mark. Had he ever caused her as much hurt as he had in this moment?

Lily's expression changed into one of forced calm as the younger Snape handed her a cup of tea and sank to the couch next to her. He placed a hand on her knee, but she shifted away, apparently deep in thought. His younger self frowned, inspecting her as she stared silently into the cup in her hand. After some time, Severus prompted her, "Did you say there was something you wanted to tell me?"

"What?" Lily responded distractedly, having been pulled out of her daze.

"You told me you'd been waiting for me all day," Snape reminded her. "What was it you wanted to say?"

Lily looked at him apprehensively for a moment, and then swallowed hard. "Perhaps we should save this conversation for another day."

Snape's eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a suspicious tone. "Is everything quite alright?"

"I don't- I don't know." Lily was becoming agitated, now, and stood to walk away from the table. "Listen- I don't want you to be angry-"

"And why would I be angry?" Snape asked dangerously. Lily's expression faltered, and she moved to face him.

"Severus," Lily said, kneeling down in front of him and taking his hands. "I want you to always know that I loved you, and never had any intention of hurting you. But a few weeks ago, I made a mistake, and now I have to pay for that."

"What are you—?"

"I... I've fallen in love with someone else," Lily said hurriedly, closing her eyes in attempt to stop the tears flowing from them. "I was with someone else..."

Silence followed this statement, but within the next sixty seconds, Snape seemed to have found his voice. "What?" he said, in a voice of deadly calm. "Who?"

"James," Lily replied in a near whisper, and suddenly it was as though the whole world had stopped around them.

"Potter?" Snape said venomously, after a long moment. "Potter? Of all the people, Lily- that- I WILL MURDER HIM!"

And he had flown from his seat, halfway to the door, when Lily cried out, "No, you can't! I-"

She had grabbed his arm mid stride, and his head had snapped back towards her; he was staring at her with a look of uncontrollable fury in his eyes, but she bravely grasped his other hand and pleaded, "Please, if you have ever had any love for me... just let me go quietly and leave James alone. I... I'm so sorry, but... I'm carrying his child."

"YOU WHA-"

"Please!" She cried hysterically. "Please, you have to know I am so sorry, and I love you-"

"You did love me, you mean, before you- you- you whore!"

Lily was sobbing now, sputtering nonsensically, looking for the right words to say- but Snape was unsympathetic. He grabbed her tightly by the shoulders and hissed into her face. "I will never forgive you for this. You areworse than dead to me. Get out of my house." And he shoved her roughly from him, causing her to stumble backwards. He was on her in an instant, grabbing her by the arm and wrenching her upwards, dragging her towards the door. She had stopped crying, now, and appeared wholly in shock.

"Severus, I-"

But there was nothing she could say to bring him back to his senses as he flung the door open and shoved her backwards through it. She fell, hard, on the cobblestone outside and stared up at him fearfully as she scrambled to her feet.

"Don't ever," he paused to regain control, but his pointing finger was still trembling when he continued his sentence. "-step foot into this home again. I trusted you, and you go running off with that arrogant prick, James Potter!" He paused, and surveyed her in disgust, lip curling unpleasantly. "You sicken me," He said, and then slammed the door.

Never before had Severus viewed this scene from Lily's perspective, but now he could see just how distraught she had been. As soon as the front door had closed, she began sobbing to the point of hyperventilation. She sank down on the front step, trying to calm herself, rocking back and forth until she had lulled into a silently stunned, though still tearful, state.

Soon, she rose gingerly and stepped off the porch. Severus followed her as she made her way down the street, and when she apparated at the corner, he was transported to the place which she'd headed to. He found himself outside James Potter's old home, and sneered when she started heading towards the door. Perhaps she was going back for sympathy. Or another romp in the hay with his old enemy…

He followed her up to the house, not sure he wanted to find out why she was there.

She shakily raised her small, pale hand, and knocked on the door. The door slowly opened, and James Potter stood, silhouetted against the yellow light shining from inside.

"Lily," He said, opening the door wider, and stepping outside. When he saw that she was crying, he took her into his arms and held her there. "What happened?"

"I've done something so-" she hiccuped, "stupid-"

"Come in, come in-" Potter said quickly, looking around and ushering her inside. Immediately inside the door, she sank onto the first step of his staircase, her head in her hands.

"What happened?

"I'm so sorry to have dragged you into this, James, but- I didn't know what to do, and you've always been such a good friend- you're the first person I thought of... but you're going to hate me."

"I could never hate you," said James, running a hand comfortingly over the back of her head and stroking her hair. "Just- calm down. Take a few deep breaths. There you go. Start from the beginning."

"It's Severus-"

"What did that bastard do to you?" James' tone had instantly changed, his face growing dark.

"It's not- well, he did... Oh, James, he took the Dark Mark!"

"Well I always-" James started to say, but Lily glared in his direction and he went silent.

"I don't understand- I knew he used to have connections with that crowd, but since we began dating... I thought he- well, it doesn't matter what i thought. The trouble is... and this is where you're going to hate me... I'm pregnant."

"Well, I don't like the idea of how you got there, but I certainly don't hate-"

"And I told him it was yours" Lily finished all on one rush. There was stunned silence. "I'm sorry, James, but it was the only thing I could think of that would ensure that he would want nothing to do with me- but even so, the way he reacted... he scared me, so much. He was violent- perhaps this was for the best, but I... I just don't know. I've hurt him so much." Her head was in her hands again.

"I can't bring my child into that," she mumbled miserably into her palms. "I can't put us both in danger. How could things go so wrong?" Her crying started again and James put his arms around her, shaking his head, unsure of what to say. His disgust for Snape was apparent, but he did not seem to want to upset Lily any further.

"He threw me out, James." She said quietly. "He literally picked me up and tossed me out of the house. He was so angry... I never thought he could be that way, not with me. He wanted to come after you- but I knew, if he thought you were father to my child, he would never..." She looked up at him sadly. "He can never know."

Across the room, Severus stood transfixed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. All these years, he had thought she betrayed him, when in reality it was he that had betrayed her. And even more... did this mean he had a child? He counted backwards... this had been nearly seventeen years ago. The only child that could logically be his was… "Potter," He muttered darkly to himself.

But before he could even digest this information or view the conversation any further, he felt himself being lifted up- up, through the silver mist, back to solid ground, standing in the middle of the Headmaster's office, with Albus Dumbledore staring sadly into his face. Then, gently, "What did you see, Severus?"

Severus shook his head angrily. "I think you have a pretty good idea." Severus said softly, backing slowly away. "How long have you known this?"

"I suppose that depends on which event you are speaking of..." Dumbledore said, sitting behind his desk.

"Don't play games with me, Albus. I want to know- I want to know- if," Severus couldn't quite get the words out.

"If Harry is your son?" Dumbledore finished for him. Severus nodded. "No, Severus. He is not. That baby died before Lily had even reached second term. Harry was conceived by James."

Severus didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. That meant that his wife- no, she wasn't his wife. They'd signed the divorce papers a week after that had happened, and he never spoken to her again. Nonetheless, even after the fact, it meant that she had slept with his sworn enemy… the one non-evil person he hated almost as much as the Dark Lord.

"I am sorry to have kept this from you, but Lily begged me never to tell you what had happened." Dumbledore continued. "And I didn't want to cause you further pain…"

"Albus," said Severus slowly as he turned back to face the Headmaster, "Did I- the child, the miscarriage... was it because of me?"

Dumbledore didn't respond; he only looked down at his hands.

"Albus!" Severus exclaimed pressingly, and Dumbledore looked up at him with sad blue eyes.

"One can never know for certain why these things happen," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "But you were very rough with her that night…"

Stunned, Severus let his gaze drop to the floor. "I- I have to go, Albus. I'll return to give you my report when..." But he trailed off, unsure of what to say, and left the office in silence.

Conflicted, Albus Dumbledore watched as Severus Snape left his office and silently thanked Merlin that Severus hadn't gotten gone any further into the memory.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 6

Bird of Prey

xxx

Harry dropped his trunks in the middle of the Gryffindor common room and looked cheerlessly around. The room appeared unchanged from the previous year, but it felt somehow different without the usual bustle of other students going about their days.

Ron and Hermione had said their goodbyes in the Great Hall only minutes before, and Harry was almost relieved that they'd finally gone. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with them; if he'd had his choice, he would have spent the rest of the summer cleaning at Number 12, Grimmauld Place if it meant he could be with his friends. No, it was more that he was tired of trying to be good company when he simply didn't have the energy to put on a show. Alone, he was free sulk without disappointing anyone.

Suddenly, Harry was startled by a high pitched cry from behind, and he whirled around so fast he nearly fell over. Standing in front of him, wringing his hands in excitement was Dobby the house elf. On each foot, he wore a different sock; today, one in florescent stripes and the other with animated owls and stars in the night sky. He wore a mixture of mismatched garments he'd collected over time and three lumpy, barely recognizable hats which Hermione had knitted the previous year.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir!" He cried, darting forward to grab Harry's bags. "Harry Potter should not be lifting such heavy things, sir. That is what Dobby is here to do, sir!"

"Hello, Dobby." Harry replied, attempting to look cheered.

"How is being your holiday, sir?" Dobby asked brightly, levitating the suitcases and following them up the stairs.

"Can't complain," Harry said dismissively as he trailed after Dobby, feeling he'd rather not discuss the events of his dreadful summer. "How was yours?"

"Harry Potter is always being so courteous," Dobby said admirably as he guided the trunks into the dormitory room. "Dobby has had a wonderful summer, but not much to do without students in the castle!"

"How's Winky?" Harry asked blandly, remembering her condition prior to the end of term and the reason she'd been so miserable.

"Oh," said Dobby, his ears drooping slightly. "She don't talk to Dobby no more, sir, but Dobby keeps an eye on her. Dobby knows she is being depressed, and not very happy since she stopped drinking."

"Well, there's a bright side." Harry said, pulling back the crimson curtains on one of the four-post beds and sitting himself on it.

"The welcome feast is in six days time." Dobby pointed out, waving his hand to put Harry's things away. "Harry Potter is excited to see his friends?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry replied sarcastically. "It'll be great."

Dobby seemed to pick-up on his insincerity.

"Why is Harry Potter being sad?" Dobby asked, lifting himself up onto the bed next to Harry. "His friends not being friendly?"

"Not that, Dobby." Harry answered sullenly. He paused for a minute, and then elaborated. "Just, every year something happens, and every year, I end up miserable at one time or another…"

Dobby reached up and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Cheer up, sir! Things will be better, Harry Potter is a hero!"

"Yeah," Harry said darkly, "people keep saying that."

xxx

Down in the torch-lit dungeons, Dumbledore knocked for the second time on the Potions Master's door, intent on speaking with him. He waited a brief moment for a reply, but received none; he cautiously pushed the stone door open and stepped inside.

Severus was standing with his back to the door, leaning over a cauldron and adding ingredients with focused precision. He gave no indication that he had noticed the headmaster.

"Severus?" Dumbledore said quietly, stepping forward.

Severus' shoulder slumped slightly in exasperation, then tensed again. "Yes?" he growled irritably.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and reminded himself of the reason for Severus' bad mood. "Harry has just arrived."

"Oh joy, I must run up and greet him," Severus replied flatly.

"I wondered when you might be willing to restart Occlumency lessons with him," Dumbledore said, ignoring Severus' sarcasm.

"Albus, I will never be willing to do anything short of murdering that boy," Severus said, now filling the vials with his perfected potion.

"Severus, don't be difficult," Dumbledore said, stepping around the table for a face-to-face conversation.

"I'm not being difficult, Albus, I'm being truthful," Severus retorted, now corking each of the equally filled bottles.

"Is today too soon?" asked Dumbledore as Severus took a sip of the tea he had sitting on his desk.

Severus nearly choked on his lemon-flavored liquid. "Today?" He exclaimed. Then regaining his composure, he said irritably, "Yes, today is too soon."

As if he wanted to risk the boy seeing what he'd learned the previous night. Honestly, one would think that someone as "insightful" as Dumbledore would recognize that all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Well, tomorrow then?" Dumbledore persisted. "I wouldn't even ask if it weren't for the urgency of the situation. I read your report, and you must agree that no cautionary measures can be put off."

Severus hesitated. He hadn't thought of the report he'd delivered just a day ago, preferring to write it rather than having to stare into Dumbledore's knowing eyes one moment longer than necessary.

"Fine, headmaster," He finally said. "Tomorrow. Tell the boy to be here at five o' clock in the evening, and not to be late."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said sincerely.

And he went on his way.

Severus watched him go, his face set in a dark stare. He was mortally exhausted, he hadn't slept since the previous night, and it was already one o' clock in the afternoon. All he'd been able to do was work on his potions; his mind was too busy to allow himself to sleep.

It was though a scratched record with his least favorite song was planted in his head- how could I have done this? How can I even live with myself? The same questions were mentally repeating themselves over and over again- and he was doomed to listen to the same track for the rest of his life.

xxx

Harry sat on the common room couch, working on the Potions essay he'd been putting off all summer. Working, however, seemed to be a relative term; no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the properties of herbal plants in healing solutions, it just couldn't hold his interest. He was considering giving it up for a visit to Hagrid's when he heard the portrait hole open and close. He looked around to see Dumbledore standing just inside the door, smiling merrily at him.

"Good afternoon, Harry!" Dumbledore said, settling into the chair sitting across from Harry. "Working on your homework, I see. Are you quite settled in?"

"Yes, Dobby came and helped me. Or, did it for me, I should say."

"Yes, I do seem to recall he has been awaiting your arrival," Dumbledore responded with an appreciative smile.

Harry nodded, then asked tentatively, "Professor Dumbledore, I was wondering- why did you want me to return to school early?"

"Well, that is why I came to see you," said the Headmaster. "I wanted to be honest with you, Harry, that Draco Malfoy's warning to you this summer is something to be taken very seriously. Professor Snape believes- and I agree with him- that Voldemort wanted to take advantage of your more predictable schedule of movements as the start of term approached. London is being watched very carefully, and travelling between Grimmauld Place and the Burrow is now a risk that we shouldn't be taking. Furthermore, knowing exactly where you would be on September 1st- on the Hogwarts express- it is, quite simply, safer that you remain at Hogwarts for now."

"I see," Harry said dejectedly. "Is Hagrid-?"

"I'm afraid I've sent him on some business at the moment, Harry. I'm sorry, I know he would have liked to spend the time with you."

Harry looked crestfallen, but he nodded. "I thought as much when I didn't see lights on in his cabin last night."

"Indeed. I am hoping he will arrive before the start of the welcome feast. Now," he said in a much more formal manner, standing up to break eye contact, "I've spoken with Professor Snape, and he is willing to resume Occlumency lessons this week. Will tomorrow at five o' clock be alright?"

To Dumbledore's great surprise, Harry did not react. His face fell slightly, but it was as if he had been expecting this.

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice," said Harry quietly, going back to his essay.

Dumbledore was halfway to the door, but he stopped to consider Harry for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Harry, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Harry replied stiffly, applying quill to parchment with far more fervor than was necessary.

"Is there anything I can do? Any questions you have... any thoughts that may have come up over the summer?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled irritably.

"I know things are still going to be difficult for you for awhile," Dumbledore said. "But just try to remember that you are surrounded by people who love and care for you. You're not alone, Harry. Don't seclude yourself from everyone who makes an attempt to help you; that never got anyone very far."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't even look up. After a few minutes, Dumbledore came and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well, I shall leave you to your thoughts," he said quietly. "Please do not hesitate to visit my office if you need anything, or if you decide you'd like to talk." With that, Dumbledore turned and left, leaving Harry alone in the common room.

Harry tried with all his might to focus his attention on his Potion's essay, but it was no use. He couldn't suppress all of the emotions he was feeling right now. Anger at Dumbledore, grief for Sirius, and dread of having to start Occlumency again the next day.

How dare the headmaster waltz in here like none of the trust he'd built up over the years with Harry had been broken? How dare he act as though it was just another day- as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened last year? He'd lied to Harry, in every way. He'd omitted everything that didn't go accordingly with his plan for the boy, he'd avoided Harry's questions, and misguided him with many of his answers. And now he was demanding that Harry resume the worthless ordeals that were Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.

The quill in Harry's hand snapped in half, catching Harry's attention as he looked down irritably at the frail writing utensil. Harry sighed and threw it to the side, running his hands through his already messy hair.

"I need a walk," said Harry to himself, rising from the couch.

He went upstairs to pull on a hooded sweatshirt, and then made his way out into the hallway. Harry decided that if there was one good thing about the impending start of term, it was that would have someone to be with him. With even Hagrid missing, Harry felt more isolated than he had all summer.

Thinking that he didn't want to stay inside this empty castle any longer, Harry considered a walk on the grounds. He didn't think, however, that after his conversation with Dumbledore about his safety that he should risk a walk anywhere near the forbidden forest. After some deliberation, he headed for the astronomy tower.

After climbing stairs for what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally arrived at the top of the tower, and he climbed out onto the high platform. It was truly an amazing sight, the grounds around Hogwarts from up here. He wondered if there was a more beautiful place on earth; around him, he could see the lake glittering like crystal in the sunlight, the tall trees of the forbidden forest, and the rocky tops of the surrounding mountains.

Harry sank down to the floor, and sat there while the sun slowly sank behind the mountains.

Harry hated to wallow in self-pity, but admittedly, he was finding himself hard-pressed to concentrate on anything besides the misfortunes plaguing him. The prophecy, losing his Godfather, being separated his friends... it was all too much. And why was it happening to him? Always him... never anyone else.

Harry brought his head to rest on his knees, and stared out at the trees. Just two years ago, he'd been soaring over those trees on a Hippogriff, rescuing his godfather. What had been the point? It had all ended badly anyways.

A sigh escaped him. Would these bitter thoughts ever stop plaguing him? Would he ever have a semblance of a normal life? A family? Would he even survive the coming year... or what he now knew would be the final battle with Voldemort?

The sun slipped below the treeline, leaving behind just a faint pink glow in the late summer sky. A shadow fell over the grounds... but what was that shadow? It was moving... Harry raised his gaze to the figure above.

The greatest bird Harry had ever seen was soaring over the trees. Huge, its wingspan seemed to stretch about twelve feet. Its radiant white color set it apart from any other bird Harry had ever seen; this was no owl, and this was no swan- what could it be? It was... it was soaring closer and closer.

Harry narrowed his eyes, and rose to his feet. The bird was heading for him, deliberately and speedily. There was no mistaking it- Harry was this bird's prey, and considering it's rapid speed, he had very little time to escape. Harry backed up a few steps, and abandoning a cautionary retreat as the bird swooped down on him from overhead, he began to run. The bird came out of its dive and re-circled, taking a more shallow dive this time as it aimed for Harry.

Harry jerked at the door leading to the steps, but it wouldn't budge. Looking behind him and seeing the bird so close, he gave it another mighty tug, but to no avail. It was his last chance; he pulled out his wand and aimed it at the door, ready to blast through it- but it was too late.

It happened so fast. Harry was ready to scream the curse at the stubborn door, when he felt the great talons of the bird sink into his shoulder. He gave a yell at the painful contact, and then at the sudden pull his stomach felt as his feet were lifted off the ground. He kicked his feet, flailed his arms, yelled, anything he could do to get this bird to let go of him. However, as they flew away from the safety of the tower, he soon decided this was a very bad idea.

It was such a shock that Harry realized, as he looked below him, that he was dangling about five hundred feet above the Hogwarts grounds. There was nowhere to go but down, and he certainly wasn't going to take the risk of falling to his death.

It wasn't a long journey, which Harry was almost thankful for. His chances of rescue while in the sky were slim, and he could feel the warm blood trickling down his chest from the shoulders the bird held onto.

The bird started to descend somewhere behind one of the mountains surrounding the castle. They were no longer on Hogwarts grounds, but they were very close. Perhaps, if Harry was left here, he could make a run for it when he had the chance, and make it back to the castle. If he could even send a signal with his wand, he knew that would be enough for someone there to come find him.

Harry was soon released with a thud, and dragged by the beak of the bird into a small cavern. It was shady and a bit damp, but Harry could see very clearly just who this bird was, and what was wanted from him.

It was a quick transformation, one that left Harry little time to think about what to do next. The formerly great white feathers were morphing into long, white strands of hair. The long wings shortened into thicker human arms, and the legs grew to full length. A terrible screech erupted from the bird, and moments later, Lucius Malfoy was standing over Harry, a horrible smirk curling around his thin lips.

Before Harry could reach for his wand, Malfoy had swiped it from his pocket and secured it inside his own.

"Ah ah," Malfoy tutted, mockingly wagging his finger at Harry. "We can't have you going and doing something stupid, now can we?"

His tone became darker. "Get up, now," he said, lip curling in distaste.

Harry did as he was told, not because Malfoy told him to, but because he didn't think that lying on the floor put him at much of an advantage.

Malfoy grabbed Harry by his hair and dragged him back into the dark of the cave. When the older man used his wand to illuminate the cave, Harry saw a small door, and before long, he was being forced through it.

Through the door was a room, a room that appeared to be one of an entire network of chambers, each with its own function. Harry was led through the entryway to what appeared to be some sort of prison. Men and women were chained inside cells, some so bloody and battered they were beyond recognition. Harry wondered if that were to be his fate; would he end up some faceless torture toy chained to a wall?

Malfoy brutally shoved Harry into one of the empty cells.

"I will inform the Dark Lord of your arrival," Malfoy said with a smirk. "Until then, sit still. Oh," Malfoy lowered his voice and leaned forward. "And, if I were you, I'd try not to draw too much attention to myself. Perhaps we've been ordered not to kill you... but there are many things worse than death."

Malfoy straightened back up, looked Harry over, and exited the cell, locking the door behind him with his wand.

Harry waited until he had disappeared from sight, and then rose to his feet. He rubbed his shoulder and winced; there was still blood trickling from the wounds Malfoy had left with his talons. Harry could feel them throbbing painfully, but he didn't care. He had to think of way to get out. But without a wand, the situation was hopeless. He was a scrawny boy for his age, so brute strength was an asset he didn't have. He couldn't pick a magical lock, and even if he did manage to get out, how far would he get without any type of defense?

Harry sat down in the corner, bringing his knees to his chest. All he could do was hope for a rescue… hope someone would notice he was missing… and that they would know where to look.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 7

Beyond Recognition

xxx

Severus had waited for Dumbledore to leave before relaxing his stony expression and leaning forward to rest his head in his palms. The emotional turbulence of the past few days was almost too much for him, a man who normally retained quite a stoic psyche. He briefly considered using his pensieve for relief from his thoughts or consuming a vial of dreamless sleep potion. But no, he thought with a pang of guilt; this was no more than he deserved. Why should he be able to escape the troubling thoughts that were little more than a result of his own impulsive actions? No, he would suffer in silence as usual, his way of paying penance. With the Headmaster finally gone, he turned and headed in the direction of his private quarters. A dimly lit, narrow passageway led from his lab to his room, allowing him a private escape. After treading only a moderate stretch of corridor, he reached a slim black door and, after grumbling the password, entered his rooms.

Severus was, though loath to admit it, still shaken by the news he'd learned from Dumbledore the previous night and, despite many attempts, hadn't slept since. The hour had been late when he had returned from Dumbledore's office and he had immediately thrown himself into the preparation of the medicinal potions Madame Pomfrey had been routinely pestering him about for the past four days. Since Severus was an avoidant person by nature, it seemed natural that now, in the face of a grave realization and impending struggle, the Potions Master would finally take on the task he had been loath to complete before. It was no longer an annoyance; it was a welcomed distraction.

Barely aware of where he was or what he was doing, Severus sank down into his armchair. He let his arms rest on the sides, fingers gripping the cool, worn leather. His head lolled to rest against the high back of the chair, and he closed his eyes against the dull throb that was beginning to develop in the back of his cranium.

Sitting next to the chair was a small table. There was nothing extraordinary about it: short in stature, made of a dull wood which, if one looked close enough, didn't quite match with a majority of the furniture in the room, and containing only one drawer. This ordinary table, however, did not go unnoticed by Severus for long. As if he were expecting it to come to life and strike him, he eventually opened his eyes and slanted to the side, eyeing the table warily. He knew what it contained, and was ashamed of his own longing to retrieve what was in it.

Giving into temptation, a bony hand reached out and slid the drawer open. From it he drew a small muggle photograph: dull with age and covered in a thin veil of grey dust. With his thumb he uncovered the image beneath the offending particles, a tinge of sadness manifesting itself in his features as he gazed at it. It was more than a simple picture; it was a picture of the woman he'd once loved… or perhaps, the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Lily's red hair curled softly around her pale face, contrasting sharply with the brilliant green eyes that characterised her appearance. A simple but genuine smile graced her delicate features, giving off a warm radiance that had not diminished with the depleted lustre of the photograph.

"Lily," Severus murmured softly, running his fingers over her picture again. A sorrowful smile almost graced his features before he caught himself; Severus Snape did not smile, and certainly not out of sentiment for a past which had long been lost. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and placing her picture back in the drawer from where it had come, almost regretful that he had retrieved it again.

Guilt was an emotion that Severus did not particularly enjoy dealing with, but the fact was that his many mistakes had accustomed him to the feeling. Therefore, it was not the feeling of guilt that overwhelmed him, nor was it what one would call regret… it was best described as grief, and as Severus had not allowed himself to become attached to many people in his lifetime, that was certainly one emotion that he did not know what to do with.

It was the realization that his overreaction had caused the rapid cessation of what might have been an enduring marriage and the termination of his child—a child who may have helped Severus to finally find a palpable sense of redemption— that had stirred these unpleasant and long repressed emotions in him. He wouldn't call himself child-friendly, exactly, but the thought of having a family to come home to at the end of every day stirred some sort of yearning in him, and accentuated the acute feeling of loneliness he felt. Not for the first time, he found himself faced with a severe longing to go back and do everything again: the right way. Such a wish was folly, however, and he knew it. For some reason, that knowledge made the desire increase tenfold.

It would have been easier to release the emotion through the tears that were certainly the source of the pressure behind his eyes, but years of repressing such urges had formed a habitual tendency to erect walls between his heart and mind, and as he did so, stoicism returned. Along with it came an inexplicable exhaustion—his body's natural defence against the forces which threatened to bring the emotions rushing back.

Tipping his head back to rest, Severus once again allowed his eyes to fall closed, grateful for the release when he felt the gentle tug of slumber pulling at his conscious mind. Easily he succumbed, giving very little thought to what he would do when he woke again and all his problems were still waiting to be solved.

Many hours later, Severus awoke with a start. He looked at the time and knew instantly why. He'd slept all the way through the night and for most of the day. The emotional energy, coupled with the weariness he'd developed making his potions and the exhaustion of his Death Eater's meeting, had caused him to become so fatigued that he'd slept for nearly twenty hours. As usual, his convenient internal clock had awoken him just in time to make his way down to his office to meet Potter for Occlumency lessons.

Trying to rid himself of the crick in his neck, he rose from the couch and changed into a fresh pair of black robes, not bothering to check the mirror before he left. Half an hour later, he was seated in his office, watching the clock. As usual, the boy was late. Severus smirked to himself, thinking of the points he would take when the school year started.

As the hour ticked by, Severus became more and more irritated by the boy's tardiness. Honestly, an hour late was a bit much, even for Potter. Finally, Severus decided to go and find the boy who was making a mockery of his time. On his way to Gryffindor tower, however, a sharp pain in his left arm made him stop in his tracks. He was being called, and he surely could not ignore the Dark Lord. Deciding that he would berate the boy later, he left the castle in a rush, summoned his Death Eater robes and mask, and apparated at the gates.

Snape arrived promptly, and to his relief, he wasn't the last one there. Being late was never favorable to the Dark Lord, and hardly ever went unpunished. He joined the circle of followers, and stood there silently. Before long, everyone coming had arrived, and the Dark Lord seemed satisfied with the turnout.

Voldemort stood at the head of the room, surrounded by his followers.

"My faithful servants," he said softly. "Today is a glorious day."

Voldemort stepped down off the platform he'd been standing on, and began to pace the inner ring of the circle. There was a short pause in which he seemed to be examining each of the hooded men he stopped in front of. Severus waited patiently, breath abated, as Voldemort gradually made his way towards him.

"For many years, I have searched for a way to prevent my end. Apparently, I was not guarded enough sixteen years ago to stop my own diminishment. But now," He paused as he came to stand in front of Severus. Unlike he had with the rest of the men, however, Voldemort did not step away. He stood directly in front of the Potions Master, as though to sense his reaction to what was to come. "I have discovered a spell which cannot fail. Very similar to the one I used in my resurrection, I require two things; the blood of a faithful servant, and the heart of my enemy."

Voldemort looked directly at Severus. "I have my faithful servant," he raised his hand into the air and snapped his fingers. "And my enemy."

Voldemort stepped back from Severus, and he could see a Death Eater dragging a bloody body into the center of the room. Voldemort cackled evilly.

'Oh Lord,' Severus thought, 'it can't be…'

Severus' fears were soon confirmed as the boy was thrown to the floor and kicked onto his back; it was Potter. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of his mangled body, but he was careful to betray nothing of what he felt to the vile creature standing in front of him. He kept his mind completely occluded, letting the Dark Lord sense only joy and happiness, despite his real desire to spit in disgust on the evil imitation of a man he was forced to call "Lord".

"Severus," Voldemort hissed. "I believe you are familiar with the Asterisus potion?"

Severus nodded.

"For those who are not," Voldemort said, raising his voice and looking around at the crowd of masked men. "This glorious liquid is exactly what I need to perform a binding spell between myself… and a prodigy. I will choose one of my most loyal servant's children, and he and I will add our blood to this potion. When we drink it, we will merge to become one in two… nearly invincible. This child will, of course, go through the same rigorous training I endured to come to full power before we perform the spell. But as the potion must sit for a year, it will need to be made now to be complete in time to use on my new half.

"Each of you will bring your child to me five months from now. Until that time, I suggest that you prepare them as well as you can. The strongest and most clever shall be chosen as my prodigy… but I will have chosen far before I finish the testing, I can ensure that. It is in your children's best interests that they are ready… I think you will find that those who are not will suffer most… and suffering often leads to death."

Voldemort finally stepped away from Severus, taking to circling the group once more. Anxiety hung in the air as he did so. Every Death Eater was considering what had just been said, and though these were not the purest of men, each still cared for his child. What Voldemort had implied stuck fear in the hearts of the men that were seemingly fearless.

"For ages I have wasted my energy seeking to defeat this boy." Voldemort said softly, delicately and painfully pronouncing each syllable. "I was so blind when the answer was right in front of me. Why try to prove my superiority to him, when I could simply have him done away with and use his death to my advantage?"

It seemed that Voldemort was speaking to himself more than to his followers. He stood staring at the beaten boy in speculation, as if pondering why he'd not seen an answer so simple before.

"Men, tonight starts a new era. Lord Voldemort rises again… but this time, not to defeat Harry Potter. Oh, make no mistake, the boy will be killed. But the rest of the Wizarding world needn't know it… yet. We will kill this boy, and then one among you will take his place. One who knows the facets of his everyday life, one who has already been able to fool Dumbledore into believing anything we want him to…"

Severus froze. The Dark Lord was talking about him, he knew it. He was going to be asked to take the boy's place. He was going to be asked…

"Severus," Voldemort said suddenly. "You know what I am going to ask you to do. Now hear what I need you to do now. You will take this boy," He jerked his head over his shoulder at Harry, "and prepare the potion. I want you to use your blood… Oh, and as you cut out his heart, make sure he's conscious. It needs to be beating when it is added… and go slowly; I don't want any damage done to it."

Severus nodded, paling behind his mask. He walked purposefully towards the boy, acting as though he was looking forward to the task he was being asked to perform. He carelessly grabbed the boy by the leg, feeling that it was the sturdiest of his body parts, and dragged him out of the room.

Once out into the corridor, Severus looked around, and seeing that no one was around, he knelt next to the boy.

"Oh, Potter," He muttered, shaking his head. "What did they do to you?"

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 8

The Weight of the World

xxx

A closer look at Harry proved grotesque. One eye was purpled and swollen shut over his eye, and one of his earlobes was slit right up to the center. Blood was seeping from underneath his bangs, and cuts lined his jaw where he had clearly been hit too many times. His nose was surrounded by dark, dry blood, but luckily, it had not been broken. All down his bony chest were black and blue bruises, and his arm was bent at a sickening angle. Blood soaked his left pant leg, and the foot on the same leg was too swollen to properly fit into a shoe.

Grimacing, Severus carefully slid his arms underneath the boy's broken body, lifting him from the ground. He kept one arm carefully positioned underneath Harry's neck, and the other under his knees. He took care to hold Harry's bent arm to his body to prevent further damage. Once satisfied that he would not harm the boy by carrying him, Severus set off towards the potions lab, rapidly searching his mind for a plan.

He would never be able to get out and make it very far with the boy in this condition, and his magic was not enough to help the child. Voldemort would surely notice their absence, and they would be caught. What Severus needed was a diversion, though he couldn't think how to create one. Furthermore, he couldn't leave the boy's side; he was in a most unstable condition.

Pushing this thought aside, he hurried into the potions lab that had been created deep within the mountain. It contained nearly every potions ingredient known to man, and a few that most people didn't even know existed. However, as a rule, no actual potions were kept in this room. Over the years, the Dark Lord had learned that when he "punished" Severus and then sent him to work on a potion, he had easily been able to treat his afflictions with one of the wide variety of potions he'd created. As a result, the Dark Lord had ordered any actual potions to be kept in a separate room, to which only he could give access. All potions ingredients were kept stock of, so that no one could use them without the Dark Lord's knowledge.

Severus gently laid Harry onto the cool, tile counter, and pulled out his wand. He performed what small healing spells he could do without being detected, hoping to stop the bleeding and some of the pain. It helped; after a moment, Harry groaned and moved his head, but gave no other sign of response.

"Potter?"

Harry mumbled something inscrutable, not opening his eyes.

"Potter," Severus said, not sure if the boy could hear him. "Whatever happens, I need you to struggle if another Death Eater shows up." He paused, ready to explain the plan he'd only just thought of. Before he could say anything else, however, Lucius Malfoy had arrived.

To Severus' relief, Harry immediately did as he'd been asked to do, even though he was only on the brink of consciousness. He used all of his strength to try and push himself off of the table, and Severus immediately sprang forward to stop him. Though Harry was weak, he still tried with all his might to do a good job of faking an attempted escape. Within moments, however, Severus had feigned slamming him back onto the table, and Harry took this as his cue to go unconscious again.

Severus held Harry down for a moment, secretly checking to see if he'd hurt the boy. Once convinced that he'd not caused further injury, he released Harry and straightened back up, turning to face Lucius.

"What are you doing down here, Lucius?" snarled Severus, begrudged by his appearance.

"The Dark Lord wishes for someone to assist you," Lucius said, raising an eyebrow dubiously and glancing behind Severus to the now truly unconscious child on the lab counter. "So I volunteered. I know how you hate strange people in your labs."

"How courteous of you," Severus grumbled, sweeping over to the shelves containing cauldrons. He selected a large brass cauldron with a flat bottom and set it upon the counter. Lucius watched in interest as he then began to select the ingredients he would need to start the potion.

Severus skimmed the shelves, book in hand, for the Ebil leaves. He had shortly found them next to the Essence of Moonwade, when he had a stroke of genius. Looking up, he saw Lucius watching him, and said, "So, Lucius, has Draco been studying hard this summer?"

He knew how much Lucius loved to brag about his son, and was right in guessing it was the perfect topic to distract him.

"Oh, yes." Lucius responded, looking quite smug. "It's been quite a productive summer. He's finished learning volume six of our Dark Arts books, and is moving on to seven. Also, he wrote an extra essay for potions… which I'm sure you'll be happy to count as extra credit."

As he knew Lucius would expect, Severus gave him a pleased smirk.

"Of course," Severus said, hiding his annoyance. "You know I'm always pleased to help, he is my favorite student after all. Besides," He paused, and changed his tone to a more disparaging one. "I'm hoping he'll be given head boy next year, and that dunderhead Dumbledore places so much emphasis on grades. I'll be damned if I see another Weasley as head of the school."

Lucius nodded contemptuously. "Yes," He said. "We've already got one in the ministry, and look how that's going. I've been trying to convince Fudge to get rid of that sad excuse for a wizard years now, and still he won't budge."

Severus took this opportunity to discreetly slip the bottle of Ebil leaves into his robe pockets. He looked up quickly to check that Lucius hadn't seen him, and saw that he hadn't. Severus looked back down, frowning. "It seems we have a problem," he said. "Wasn't there supposed to be one bottle of Ebil leaves left?"

Lucius looked at the inventory list he'd brought with him. "Yes," he said charily. He walked over to the shelf. "Why, isn't it there?"

"No," said Severus, looking perplexed. He then turned to Lucius. "Well, I haven't got to add the leaves for half an hour; have the leaves to me by then."

Lucius' eyebrows slowly rose. "Since when did I start taking orders from you?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I don't think the Dark Lord will especially welcome my presence when he asked me to come down here and make this potion. Besides," He paused and glanced at Harry with a sneer. "I have to make sure he" he jerked his head irritably in Harry's direction, "doesn't escape. You know what a nasty habit of his that is."

"You're sure they're not there?" Lucius asked suspiciously, peering at the shelf.

"And just what are you accusing me of, Lucius?" Severus said softly.

"Nothing at all," Lucius said, not entirely convincing. "Just a curious disappearance."

"Quite understandable actually," Severus said nonchalantly. "They are used in a number of healing potions. I wouldn't be surprised if someone thought they were being clever, sneaking in here and stealing them."

"Well, we'll see about clever." Lucius said, before turning and heading out the door.

Once he was gone, Severus rushed back to Harry. He was still breathing; Severus could see the slow rise and fall of his chest, but he had really fallen back into a state of unconsciousness. Thinking fast, Severus reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small coin. It had the same effect as the coins Hermione had charmed the previous year; Dumbledore had thought it a rather clever idea and modified them for use of the order. Severus flipped over the coin and engraved it with the letters K.S.

The coin could be used as something of a portkey; one order member could call another, and the receiving order member could use the coin reach the place where the other was undetected by any wards that had been raised to guard against outsiders.

Within moments, Kingsley Shackelbolt had appeared, and once he saw where he was, his expression showed that of deep concern.

"What is it Severus?" Kingsley whispered, his back turned to Harry. "The key started burning a hole in my pocket, I figured it meant you needed me right now…"

Severus nodded curtly, and indicated for Kingsley to turn around. He did, and barely withheld a gasp, only stepping back in shock. He slowly turned back around and looked at Severus in question.

Severus explained. "From what I gather, they captured him somewhere near the school. The thickheaded boy was probably wandering somewhere he shouldn't have been."

"That doesn't explain-"

"As is the nature of the Death Eaters," Severus continued, a dangerous edge in his voice that warned Kingsley not to interrupt. "Once captured, he was most likely tortured with the instructions only not to kill him or damage his heart; this his condition plainly implies. I haven't much time to explain everything, but the momentary problem is the Asterisus Potion- you know what that is?"

Kingsley nodded.

"I thought so." Severus said gravely. "The Asterisus Potion is what they need him for."

Kingsley froze, eyes wide. "What do you need me to do?" He said after a short moment.

Severus looked around to ensure they were alone, and then launched into a rushed overview of the plan. "I sent Lucius Malfoy up to collect a supply of Ebil leaves, which are currently in my pocket. I am the only one who knows how to get out of here unnoticed. I am going to take Potter and get him to Hogwarts; you need to stay here and pose as me. You've done so before, and you're the only person I trust not to blow my cover. If Voldemort demands that I make the potion with another of his enemies, it will be ineffective with your blood, and it will be a year before he realizes."

Shackelbolt nodded solemnly, looking at Harry. "What shall I say happened?"

"When we first arrived down here, I instructed Potter to struggle against me, and so when Malfoy arrived, it seemed I was having a difficult time controlling him. You would be best off saying that he somehow activated a portkey he and Dumbledore must have set up." Severus finished quickly, with slight satisfaction at how quickly he'd managed to think up such an elaborate plan.

"You've been at this too long, Severus." Kingsley said, shaking his head. "You have the identity potion?" asked Kingsley, motioning for the vile he knew Severus was about to pull from his robes.

Severus nodded and retrieved it from the bundles of black.

"I've made a few upgrades," he said, handing him the potion, "so it should last about thirty six hours per dose. You've built up immunity, so you should be alright to drink the whole thing."

Kingsley looked at the vial in apprehension for a moment, then downed the potion in one gulp. "You had better be going." He said. "It may take you a while to get out of here with him."

Severus nodded darkly, unable to restrain the nerves jumping around in his stomach at the thought of the impending task. Delicately lifting Harry from the counter, Severus turned to Kingsley. "Be careful." He said.

"And the same to you, my friend." Kingsley said, appearance slowly starting to change. "You carry with you the weight of the Wizarding world."

And so he did.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 9- Carry You

xxx

Severus peeked out into the corridor, checking that the coast was clear. Glancing at Potter's face, he saw that the boy was still unconscious, and stepped out the door. He quietly crept down the hallway, making the best time possible. Within minutes, he'd reached his first checkpoint location. He'd come to the end of the hallway, where he knew there was a secret passage lying inside the walls.

Needing a free hand, he carefully lowered Harry's legs to the floor, just barely able to support the rest of his weight with one arm. He reached up and twisted the second branch of the candle holder, and then re-lifted Harry into his arms. He silently thanked Merlin that the boy weighed so little… at the same time, he pondered why.

Holding the child in his arms, Severus barely managed to squeeze through the narrow gateway that had appeared in the wall. Once inside, Severus started wondering about the state of Harry's lungs. The passageway was cold, musty, dark and dank. If any damage had been done to Harry's throat or respiratory system, these conditions could mean the boy's death. However, Severus didn't have another option. He could only hope and pray that he'd be out of the tunnel soon and that Harry's system could handle the conditions.

It had been a while since he'd last been forced to get out of the mountain this way, and Severus worried that he might need more than his instincts to guide him. However, since neither of his hands was free, and Potter was unconscious, he had little access to his wand, which he otherwise might have used to point him. To make matters worse, Severus' arms were becoming ridiculously tired; he'd been supporting Harry's weight for nearly an hour now. Thankfully, they were close to the end of the tunnel.

When they'd come to a small trap door that led out of the passageway, Severus set Harry down on the moist, dirt ground. He stared down at him. The next leg of their journey included swimming, and he was uncertain how to manage this with the boy unconscious.

"Potter," he said, shaking thim. "Potter, I know you're in pain right now, but I need you to pay attention."

Harry, however, was completely unresponsive, and Severus was at a loss. He pointed his wand at the boy. "Enervate." But it was no use.

As he was debating his next move, Severus heard an opening way at the end of the tunnel. Slowly, and in complete dread, Severus turned his head, and could see a faint light in the distance. He had no other choice; he scooped Harry into this arms, kicked open the hatch, and, clutching Harry tightly to his chest, dropped down through it.

Severus plunged into the icy water and opened his eyes. He looked down at Harry; he had regained consciousness, but was now gasping in lungfuls of water. Time was limited; within moments, Potter would be dead. Severus kicked up to the surface quickly, reaching it within seconds. He then grabbed Harry from behind, pushing on his lower chest and forcing the water out of his lungs. Harry had once again gone unconscious, however, and wasn't breathing. Severus swam to the edge and dragged himself and the boy up onto the ground.

Rolling Harry onto his back, he waved his wand over his chest and attempted to expel the water. A jet of lake water streamed, projectile, from Harry's mouth, but he still wasn't breathing. There was nothing else for it. Severus leaned forward and began CPR; it pained him to use such barbaric, muggle methods, but he hadn't rescued the boy who lived to let him die. "Come on, Potter," Severus growled in between breaths as he pumped the boy's chest, "You've survived the Dark Lord six times, and you're going to let a little water do you in? COME ON, POTTER!"

Severus bent down and filled Harry's lungs with air once again, and to his relief, when he'd pulled away, the boy's eyes snapped open. He was coughing and sputtering, but he was alive. Severus sighed in relief and sat back on his heels, trying to catch his breath as Harry caught his.

Harry was looking around in shock, obviously attempting to figure out exactly what had happened since he'd last fallen unconscious.

"Sit up, Potter."

Harry moved to do as he was told, but winced at the sharp, stabbing pain riveting through his ribs.

"No, better lie down," Severus now ordered urgently, pushing him gently back to the ground. "But we have only a few minutes, at most, before we need to apparate to the Hogwarts gates. Here," he said, pulling out one of the Ebil leaves he'd extracted from the shelf a few hours earlier, "Chew on one of these." As Harry did so, Severus began to wave his hand over his injuries, uttering a quiet incantation.

Harry chewed with a disgusted expression on his face, but was too tired to complain. He was still in a daze; he faintly remembered what had happened hours earlier in the potions lab, but could remember little else. All he really knew was that one moment, he'd felt sure that this was the end; no one would come to save him. The next moment, the professor who loathed him most was holding him steady on his lap and gently helping to heal his wounds. Most days this would have bothered Harry; he'd have had questions about the nature of this caring… but today, he was too tired, and too scared, to care.

"Professor," Harry said once the shock had started to wear off, "What happened?"

Severus looked down at Harry, surprised to find that he felt relief that the boy was conscious rather than the usual annoyance. "It's a very long story, Potter." He said quietly, feeling it was best not to overload him with information just yet. Potter was weak, and telling him of the Dark Lord's new plan might throw him into shock.

Though he didn't argue, Harry felt a familiar surge of resentment. Was it so difficult to answer a question? Why, whenever Harry needed answers the most, was he continually denied them? Why-

"When you're safely in the hospital wing, I shall explain," Severus continued wearily, and Harry stared at him in surprise while his Professor helped him get gingerly to his feet. Though he was still in pain, Snape's quick spellwork had made a vast improvement. "But right now, we need to move. It might not be long until the Dark Lord determines where to find you. Grasp my arm."

Harry did as he was told and suddenly felt a strong pulling sensation, followed by the feeling that every part of his body had been compressed tightly together; he was whipping through the air, spinning- he was going to be sick, and then, with a sharp CRACK they had landed hard on the ground in front of the Hogwarts gates. Harry's knees buckled underneath him and he was on the ground, retching the contents of his stomach powerfully into the grass.

"Graceful, Potter," Snape said from above him, though his tone did not have the usual bite. "When you're done, then."

Scowling, Harry finished and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve as he stumbled to his feet.

"Come on then, Potter," Severus said, grasping Harry's elbow, but Harry wrenched it away.

"I can walk," Harry said bitterly, and Severus lifted his eyebrows and gestured forward.

"By all means, then."

Harry began to stagger slowly up the pathway to the doors, but was at once too winded to continue. He paused mid step and doubled over, attempting to catch his breath- he had a powerful pain in his side that made it difficult to breathe.

"Apparation can make injuries worse, of course, but under the circumstances," Snape muttered, conjuring a stretcher at once. "Climb on, Potter."

"I'm fine," Harry gasped through gritted teeth.

"You're not," Snape said sternly. "On. Now."

Partially because he wanted to get to the hospital wing as soon as possible and partially because he didn't want to hear one more comment from Snape's direction, Harry finally abandoned his pride and climbed on to the stretch. Once up, Severus made haste to rush Harry to the hospital wing.

Moments later, Snape was waving his hand and the hospital wing doors were flying open ahead of Harry, creating a clear path for his stretcher to drift in. Madame Pomfrey immediately appeared at the noise and gasped at the sight of Harry. "Goodness me!" She exclaimed. "What happened?"

Severus deposited Harry onto the nearest bed and flung himself into the chair next to it, relief washing over his face. "The usual, where Potter's concerned, unfortunately," Severus said darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn't remember ever being so tired. "But never you mind, Poppy, he's alive."

Madame Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at Severus, who was once again surprised at how intimidating the small, frail woman could be. "Don't 'never you mind' me, Severus!" She said shrilly. "You may help yourself into the next bed."

"I won't." Severus said, raising his eyebrows. "I'm fine. It's Potter who's hurt, tend to him."

"Not once have you returned from a meeting where something such as this happened and been unharmed." Madame Pomfrey reasoned.

"Well, there's a first for everything." Severus said resolutely.

"I suppose so," said Madame Pomfrey, "and this wouldn't be the first time I've had to force you to accept my help."

Severus rolled his eyes and sank back into his chair. "Oh, bloody hell, woman. Would you drop it? I—" Suddenly, his eyes widened and he jumped from his chair.

"Poppy, the boy's stopped breathing." He said, trying to maintain a degree of calm as he rushed to Harry's side.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Knowing the Unknown Spy

Chapter 10

xxx

"Severus, get Headmaster Dumbledore!" Madame Pomfrey shouted, running to the supply cupboard.

"Not on your life, Poppy." Severus said, rushing to her side.

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes and shoved a series of potions into Severus' arms. He, knowing exactly what to do with them, hurried back to Harry's bedside with the remedies in hand and immediately began administering them.

They were doing everything they knew how to keep Harry alive; pouring liquids down his throat, calling his name to keep him from slipping away, whatever they could say to keep him there, they did. Naturally, Madame Pomfrey had a much better idea of what to say than Severus did, but he was handy in the potions department.

Madame Pomfrey had gone to work with her wand, using various healing and stimulating spells. It took three jolts of a shocking spell before Harry had begun to breathe again. His condition was still unstable; a finger to the neck proved his heart was beating irregularly.

As his current state guaranteed, Harry's body soon began convulsion, his limbs flailing out of control, his body quivering as though waves of energy were coursing through it. What was even more eerie about this state was despite his seemingly painful twitching and writhing, he stayed completely silent. His eyes were closed, and there was almost a calm look on his face… one that suggested he may not be holding on any longer.

Harry's seizure was escalating out of control, and Severus and Madame Pomfrey had become almost completely helpless. They'd used almost everything they had on hand, but the state he'd reached called for more than potions and spells. They needed a healer.

"Severus," Madame Pomfrey said in a voice of scared quiet, staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"You go, I'll stay." Severus said determinedly, taking a step towards the boy.

As she was afraid to lose any time, Madame Pomfrey left the hospital wing to call for St. Mungo's without another word. As she left, Severus swiftly stepped forward to help the boy, though he had no idea what he was going to do.

"Take my hand, Potter." Severus said, locking hands with the boy.

And something very odd occurred.

Harry immediately stopped moving. His breathing rate slowed, and he appeared to be returning to normal. Severus' eyes widened, and he looked over the boy in disbelief. He wanted to investigate what had happened, but dared not to release Harry's hand.

Though Harry appeared unconscious, he was lying awake trapped inside his own mind. He felt his body twitching and convulsing violently, but could do nothing to stop it. He didn't feel the pain, but he knew it was there. All he could do was sit and hope that whatever Snape and Madame Pomfrey were trying to do would work.

Part of Harry wondered if he shouldn't just let go. What was the point of this life that was nothing but constant pain and loss? His godfather had left him, and even if not by choice, he was still gone. Harry was constantly being torn from his friends, and who could blame them if they left when they realized what friendship with him meant? It was constant secrecy and danger- Harry wasn't certain he would want to be around himself, if he had a choice. And Dumbledore, the one man he had trusted above all others, had been lying to him for years. What was there to live for?

Then, out of nowhere, Harry felt someone grab his hand, jerking him back to life. He couldn't understand what had happened; suddenly, he'd stopped moving. He was returning to a normal state. There was some sort of warm energy flowing through him, as though the owner of the hand wanted him to live and was giving him some of his own life. Harry couldn't explain the way it felt, but the feeling in him was like something he'd not felt before; there was some sort of connection.

Suddenly, out of the calm, images flashed through Harry's mind. Many of the faces he saw were familiar… He saw his mother and father, laughing and joking, but distant from each other- not as a couple should be. He saw Dumbledore's concerned gaze fall upon his mother, he saw Lupin and Sirius at the wedding, holding strained smiles on their faces. Then he saw someone else. He saw Snape.

Without another second, Harry jerked back to life; his eyes snapped open and his eyes darted around the room, alarmed by the suddenness of it all. Only a moment ago, he had thought about letting go, and now he was looking around at the world he'd almost lost. He looked up to see who it was that had clasped his hand and brought him back… it was Professor Snape.

"Stay with me." Severus commanded firmly as Harry's eyelids threatened to fall closed. "Just concentrate on my hand, and keep holding on."

Harry tried to do as he was told, but he could feel himself slowly slipping away. He clutched his Professor's hand tightly, hoping to keep himself in a state of consciousness. "Professor," he whispered. He was going to continue, but at that moment, Madame Pomfrey returned in a panic, closely tailed by Dumbledore and, one could only presume, a healer from St. Mungo's.

Dumbledore looked beyond worried; he looked as though he were desperately trying to suppress the frantic feelings within as they hurried to Harry's bedside. Before he could do or say anything, however, the healer he'd brought with him took over.

The St. Mungo's official approached the bed, relieved at Harry's stability. He looked back and forth from Harry to Severus. The dark Potion's master was not moving; he was fiercely clinging to his student's hand, looking down at him in concentration.

"It's alright," the healer said to Severus. "I've got him from here."

It was a moment before Severus realized that he was being spoken to, and that he was still holding Harry's hand.

"Oh, of course," Severus said, releasing Harry and stepping back slowly. He didn't see the odd look with which Dumbledore was watching him.

"Ok, Harry," the healer said. "You may rest your eyes; I can see you're struggling to keep them open. I'm going to help you; this is what I do every day. When you wake up, everything will be fixed."

Harry knew he should trust this man, but somehow, he didn't. He couldn't let his eyes fall closed because he didn't know everything would be ok; he couldn't trust that he would wake up. He looked around at the familiar faces of the people standing around him, fear obvious in his eyes. Then he looked to Snape. He couldn't explain why, but for some reason, he trusted Snape. He was honest; he never tried to spare feelings or make things sound any different from what they were… at least, not when it came to bad news.

Severus gave him a small nod of reassurance. "You'll be fine," he said. "This man knows what he's doing."

Harry was soon asleep.

Harry could hear the gentle hum of voices in the room with him. They were speaking quietly, but not so that he was unable to hear what they were saying. From what he could tell, the people talking were Dumbledore, Snape, and Kingsley Shackelbolt.

"Severus," Kingsley's voice was saying. "I'm telling you, I don't think it wise that you return. They were very suspicious of my story, and the only reason I wasn't punished was because You-Know-Who needed you well for the coming Order meeting."

"I can't abandon my duties, you know that." Severus was saying irritably. "If I left, the order would have no other way of finding out the information that I give every week."

"We could find a way." Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry opened his eyes only slightly, and saw in the reflection on the window that Dumbledore had a look of deep concern on his face. "Severus, you provide valuable service to the order, yes. But you are in danger, and Voldemort is growing suspicious."

"You weren't so worried two years ago when he'd risen again," Severus said darkly. "Why is it different now?"

"I was scared at the end of that year; I'm not above admitting it." Dumbledore said penitently. "We all were. Your spying was a necessary danger then. Now, we know more. We could do without you-"

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Do without me?"

Dumbledore held up a hand, as if to take his last statement back. He carefully reworded what he'd said. "We could make it work if you wanted to leave, is what I meant to say. You know we couldn't do without you."

"Then why would I leave?" Severus said.

"Weren't you listening when I told you that the next time you go back, you're a dead man? He made that clear." Kingsley said in an urgent whisper.

"Not a dead man, Kingsley. Punished, yes, killed, no." Severus paused and allowed his head to drop to the hand propped on the table next to him. "I'll survive." He said.

The room fell silent, and Dumbledore sighed. "We can't force you to quit, Severus." He said. "But if you're doing this in attempt to redeem yourself, you needn't. You know you were forgiven long ago. You were forgiven the day you stepped into my office."

Severus gave an exaggerated role of his head and stood up. "And if I hadn't begun spying then, you do understand what could have happened? We've saved lives this way; we probably saved your precious Harry Potter. If I hadn't warned you about the Potters-"

"That's beside the point, Severus—"

"It's exactly the point, and you know it, Dumbledore. I won't quit. Not now, when we're getting so close. Good day to you, gentlemen."

Harry waited until he heard the door close behind him and Dumbledore and Kingsley's voices had faded away behind the door of Madame Pomfrey's office before sitting up. His heart was pounding and he could hardly believe what he'd just heard. Snape... Snape had been the spy who'd try to save his parents.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 11

Connection

xxx

The next morning, despite himself, Severus made his way down to the Hospital Wing to check on Potter's condition. Little though he wanted to admit, the events that had transpired yesterday had shaken him; the way the boy had calmed at his touch had been especially eerie.

Severus reached the hospital wing and made to push open the door, but upon the sight of Dumbledore sitting next to Potter's bedside, thought better of his trip. He backed slowly away from the door and was turning to leave when he heard Dumbledore's gentle voice call his name. Cursing himself, he turned back around and entered the hospital wing. The only thing worse than Dumbledore knowing he had come to check on Potter was Dumbledore knowing that Severus was hiding from him.

"How's the boy?" Severus asked quietly as he moved towards Harry's bedside.

"Sleeping, but stable," Dumbledore replied. His hand was resting affectionately on the boy's head, and his forehead was creased with worry. "Severus, I must ask you... did Harry try to fight, at all?"

"Fight the Dark Lord?" Severus questioned. Dumbledore nodded. "Albus, he was hardly in any condition to do so, when I arrived. The Death Eaters were... overzealous... in their efforts to torture him... he has been the source of many of their failings, over the past several years, and it seems they have not forgotten that his escapes led to many of their punishments."

"I just worry... he has always been so resilient, but this last year has been difficult for him. He won't speak to me... but he should speak to someone."

Severus shifted uncomfortably and remained silent; the last thing he felt like discussing was Potter's current emotional state. "Well," he said after a moment, "I just thought I would check on the situation, but it appears that everything is in order, so..."

"You stay," Dumbledore said, as though he had not heard. "I was just leaving. You will let me know if his condition changes?"

"Who- who said I intended to stay?"

"Well, if you hear anything then." Dumbledore said, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. "I'll be going now."

For a moment, Severus stood awkwardly at the foot of Potter's bed. If he gave the Headmaster a couple of minutes to get down the hallway, he could follow behind him and escape to his dungeons with no further interruptions for the day. Then-

"Professor Snape?" A strained voice interrupted his thoughts, and Severus looked down to see Harry attempting to prop himself up on his pillows, wincing as he did so.

"Well, don't hurt yourself, Potter," Snape muttered in exasperation, moving to help the boy into a sitting position. Yet after he had done so, he felt uncomfortable once more. He didn't know what to do with his arms, where to look, what to say... He cleared his throat and moved as though to sit in the chair next to the bed; then, changing his mind mid-sit, straightened back up and folded his hands in front of him.

Harry watched his professor fixing his bed in contemplation, a frown creasing his brow. He had never seen the Potions Master... fidget... before. It was weird; almost like he might be human.

"Yesterday... thank you, for yesterday," Harry said quietly, after a long moment of silence.

"It was nothing," Severus said repressively, though he knew that was a lie. It had been quite... something.

"You hate me... but you keep saving me. I don't understand."

Severus still was at a loss for words, but he recovered shortly, and pulled over a chair. "I expect you want to know about what happened in the cavern," he said, changing the topic. His tone was rough and callous, and Harry blinked several times before responding.

"If it's not too much of a burden, sir." Harry finally responded.

"I will manage," Severus said tiredly. There was a short pause before Severus continued. "Now, I'll answer your questions, if you'll answer mine. How did you end up where I found you?"

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," He mumbled. "All I did was take a walk up to the astronomy tower, and one minute I was sitting there admiring this great bird, and the next it was carrying me away. It was flying right over me, but I didn't think anything of it until it sunk it's talons into my shoulders… I never knew Lucius Malfoy was an animagus."

"Leave it to you, Potter, to get kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy in bird form on your first night at Hogwarts." Severus said dryly.

"Oh yes," Harry said sarcastically. "And I did it just to spite you."

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Severus.

"I bet you wouldn't." said Harry. He was watching Severus closely; the man wasn't really the same as he normally was. Again, Harry asked, "Why do you keep doing it?"

"Doing what?" Severus said exasperatedly, frowning.

"Saving me," said Harry. "And risking your life to do it. Why?"

There was a long pause.

"Because you always need saving." Severus finally replied plainly, before abruptly changing topics. "Now, Potter, I really don't have all day, so if you want to know what happened…"

"Right," Harry said, deciding not to press the issue. "Well, the last thing I really remember was being thrown onto the floor in the circle of Death Eaters."

Severus nodded, remembering the horrific event. "You were quite a mess, Potter." He said, frowning. "What did they do to you?"

"Whatever they could," Harry replied quietly. He didn't like admitting that he'd been their victim for hours; he'd been completely helpless. It made him feel weak, which was the last thing he wanted Snape to think of him. He hardly needed another negative trait added to "the list of Harry's faults".

"When we got down to the potion's lab, I told you to struggle, if you remember," Severus started, respecting the fact that Harry didn't want to talk about the Death Eaters and their cruel ways. "Lucky for you, you did, and so Malfoy was already under the preconceived notion that you were giving us trouble. I pocketed one of the main ingredients for the potion they were asking me to brew, and then sent Malfoy off to collect another one. From there, I contacted Kingsley Shackelbolt, who took my place while I got you out of there."

Harry nodded. "What happened at the water's edge?" He asked, only scarcely remembering the details of the incident.

Severus hesitated, and then said, "You were passed out when I jumped into the water. Naturally, you inhaled... and I had to revive you. Then we arrived here, you thought you'd attempt death one last time, we revived you again... it's really quite a cyclical story. The boy who lived determined to die."

Harry looked down at his hands, smiling slightly at Severus' dry humor.

"Always have to be the center of attention, don't you?" Severus added, though it came out sounding gentler than he had intended.

Harry looked up, about to respond, when he noticed Severus' hand go to his left arm.

Severus looked at Harry, and seeing instantly that he understood, gave him a curt nod and rose to leave.

"Don't go," Harry said, unable to explain why he was saying this.

"Potter, I have to."

"He's going to hurt you; you know that, don't you?"

Severus considered Harry for a moment, wondering why he suddenly seemed to care.

"We all have to make sacrifices." Severus finally said a moment later. "Be sure to call Madame Pomfrey if you start feeling unwell again, or if you have any of those odd scar twingings or visions."

With that, Severus turned and left the hospital wing, leaving Harry to himself. With nothing left to do, Harry rolled over to his side, and closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the sick feeling he'd gotten in his stomach when Snape had walked out that door.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 12

Dreams of Old

xxx

Severus left the castle in a very strange manner. The abnormality was not in the way he physically left, but the emotional state in which he did so. More than anything, Severus was shocked by the desire he had to stay with Harry. He wanted to seat himself next to his bedside and watch him uninterruptedly, while he was awake or asleep, to make sure nothing else could happen to him. The possibility that what he was feeling for the boy was actually genuine concern nerved him… what was more, he reminded himself of someone. He reminded himself of Dumbledore.

Ever since Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts, Severus had loathed the very thought of him. He hated staring into the green eyes that belonged to his former wife, and seeing them surrounded by James Potter's face twisted into an expression of dumb defiance. He hated hearing the boy's voice when he would talk back, he hated every disrespectful glance the boy aimed at him. He hated that he could yell at the boy and berate him to no limit, and the child hardly even gave him the satisfaction of a response. He hated that he was glorified by the entire Wizarding world for a victory he hadn't even claimed by his own means… Lily was the only reason the detestable child was alive, and yet he received all the fame and respect of the public because she had died to save him.

Most of all, Severus hated the constant reminder that she had chosen Harry over him, James over him… she had laid down her life for two people who'd been with her only a year or two. Severus had been there for her much longer; they'd shared everything, and he had treated her well. He'd given her his devotion, his servitude, his trust… he'd even gone to dinner with her muggle family just so he could ask for her hand as she'd always dreamed would happen. He'd given her all of this, and still it hadn't been enough to resist the wonderful "James Potter". Nine months of pain and suffering during pregnancy was all James and Harry had given her, and yet she'd given the ultimate sacrifice for them.

This burden weighed heavily on Severus every day. Over the years, he'd come to accept the fact that he simply hadn't been good enough for her. He'd bitterly pushed it to the back of his mind… but he never truly forgot the significance of the pain he'd been caused by it. He still felt it; it was part of the reason for his overall malevolent demeanor. He'd always had his dark, sarcastic, often vengeful traits, but not until he'd been betrayed by Lily had they taken domination over his personality.

Yet he'd spent his years chasing after the troublemaker of a boy spawned by her and her lover, protecting him, watching out for him, and yes, occasionally prowling just to see if he could punish him. As he hadn't been able to sixteen years ago, he couldn't justify allowing death to come to the boy simply because of a harbored resentment. He deliberately took the role of guardian angel to the boy, though he would never admit it to be anything more than a desire to see him expelled. Through his cruel and sadistic ways he'd inconspicuously guided the boy through his years at Hogwarts, teaching him to always watch over his shoulder, and to learn how to deal with difficulty. Dumbledore had done his best to keep the boy out of danger, but as a great philosopher had once reasoned, it is better to be feared by your subjects than loved by them. Harry would never stay out of trouble simply because he respected Dumbledore, and Severus knew it. "Let the boy find comfort in the old man," he'd tell himself, "and I will be the one who keeps him in line."

And so Severus had done. Of course, no mistake was to be made, Severus had never liked the boy, and he had never felt anything remotely close to care for the boy. That was what was scaring him now; for the first time, he did care about what happened to Potter. He wanted to help him; he wanted to keep him safe, more out of virtue than duty. Seeing the boy so helpless and vulnerable, eyes completely devoid of anything but fear had stirred something in Severus. An almost fatherly feeling… similar to the one with which Dumbledore often fostered him.

Severus shook his head and tried to push the thought out of his mind. He certainly felt anything but "fatherly" towards the boy. He blamed his sudden attitude on the shock of the news he'd recently received. In his longing for the return of his child and wife, he was left vulnerable. There was no other explanation; he was doing little more than projecting that desire onto the nearest recipient of his fatherly feelings, and Harry had been just that.

Satisfied with this conclusion, Severus paused outside the entrance to the cave in order to clear his mind. It would not do for the Dark Lord to learn any of what he was feeling. It would take quite a bit of explaining after the story he and Kingsley had fed to him.

Feeling prepared, Severus took a deep breath and cagily stepped into the Death Eaters part time headquarters. It was completely empty, and Severus silently berated himself for taking such a long time to get there. Now he would be punished not only for his failure, but also for his tardiness.

"Severus," Voldemort chided as he stepped into the circle. "You're late. I would think a wise man such as yourself would do what he could to draw attention away from himself. You know," he paused. "I'm starting to think your standards are lowering. First, you let Potter get away, now you're showing up late. None of the information you've given me recently has been of help… I'm pondering your necessity to this organization."

Severus bowed low, kissing the hems of his "Master's" robes. "My Lord," he said exultantly. "If you would only allow me to stay in your service. My life is indebted to you; it is my only wish to see you rise to the top."

This was, perhaps, Severus' least favorite part of being a spy. Admittedly, he sometimes enjoyed the conniving and deceiving ways he had adapted to using around the clock. It was somehow satisfying. However, the necessary bowing and scraping was enough to make his stomach turn. He hated the false visage of servitude and worship he had to wear, and he hated the way he had to convince the Dark Lord of his loyalty.

"You know I cannot let this go unpunished," said Voldemort, affectionately twiddling his wand.

"As rightly you shouldn't, my liege." Severus said, resisting the urge to gag at the words coming out of his mouth.

"And as you know I can't stand," He laid extra sarcasm on the word, "watching you suffer, I will leave that to the people who delight in it." A twisted smirk curled around the pale man's nearly non-existent lips.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort cried out, smiling insanely at the cowering man. "You've been begging me a long time to get rid of Severus, haven't you?"

"Y-Yes, Yes I have my Lord," Wormtail said, looking back and forth between Severus and Voldemort, eyes alight with excitement.

"Choose five others in this circle, and you may go and take care of him properly." Voldemort said, turning his attention back on Severus. "You know you deserve this, Severus." He said quietly.

"Worse, my Lord. I thank you for your mercy."

"You see, Wormtail? That is the mark of a faithful servant. Be more like him, and maybe you'll actually amount to something one day…" Voldemort paused and surveyed him disdainfully. "Though, I doubt it. Take him away."

Voldemort stepped back and watched with both apathy and sick pleasure as Severus was led away to the torture chambers.

"Oh," Voldemort called after them. "And just see to it that he doesn't die. He's worth ten of you, and if you do anything irreparable, I'll make sure the loss is repaid."

Severus had a very strong suspicion that Voldemort was doing all he could to increase these men's hatred for him. He would praise Severus and shoot every one of them down so that they would be all the more cruel in their torture of him.

And so the process began.

Severus was bruised, bloodied, and battered. The bigger men used their brute strength to injure him, repeatedly punching and kicking him, pulling him up by his hair only to throw him against the wall and laugh as he fell back down again. He was cut multiple times; it was the slow process of bloodletting that weakened him most. Some of the more crafty men in the group used various curses to strike him, and there was no mercy. Before long, Severus had reached a state worse than ever before. He lied there on the floor, gasping for air, blood and fluid draining from his body, limbs twitching with every slight movement made in the room. As was their custom, none of the men did anything to help him; they left him there to fend for himself.

The door was wide open; Severus knew that all he had to do was muster up enough energy to walk through it. He pushed himself from the ground, and gripping the walls for support, he stumbled towards the light. Without anything to hold onto, however, he soon collapsed, and he knew he would not be able to get back up.

Severus fumbled for the coin in his pocket, and with what little energy he had left, he etched the initials "A.D." into it. He then slipped into the realm of unconsciousness, hoping Dumbledore would soon arrive.

Albus Dumbledore was pacing back and forth in his office. How could he have done this? He had planned to tell Severus of his relationship to Harry several days earlier. He'd had a whole story planned out; he would tell the young professor that he had only just learned of the relationship when trying to perform a new blood protection spell and it had revealed the seemingly impossible news. However, when Severus had seen Lily's memory in the pensieve, Dumbledore knew that there was no hope in still using this story. Severus was much too clever to believe him; he would have known that Dumbledore had been hiding it all these years. He couldn't stand to betray Severus' trust, and so he had taken the much lower road…. And now he was regretting it.

Dumbledore was shaken from his thoughts by the burning coin in his pocket. He reached inside and pulled it out, and saw that it was glowing with the initials "S.S." He clutched the coin and willed it to take him to the place where his former student was calling him.

xxx

Harry Potter was lying in a deep sleep, a goofy smile spread across his face. Had he been awake, he might have felt rather more confused than happy.

This was because the dream playing through his mind involved two very peculiar parties, Lily, his mother, and… Snape. The oddity was, they didn't seem to be fighting. Lily wasn't standing up for him, nor was she yelling at him. They gave off an odd vibe, a vibe that insinuated more than even simple friendship…

Lily was laughing, her face lit up with an irresistible smile. Snape was watching her in amusement, his normally hard expression softened with an enigmatic grin. Harry watched as his mother told Snape an elaborate story in great excitement, gesturing animatedly with her hands as she did so. Every once in a while, she would stop and look at Snape expectantly, and he would, with a smirk, mimic her latest hand gesture to indicate that he was following.

Harry found himself moving closer to see exactly what was going on. However, he had hardly taken one step when he felt himself being pulled from his dream. There were voices around him, noise.

Suddenly, Harry awoke with a start. The hospital doors had swung open, and he tried to sit up in his bed to see what was going on. Someone was being brought in. Harry blinked several times and had to rub his eyes quite a bit to realize that it was Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey bringing in… Snape.

Despite the sharp, stabbing pain that rang through his ribs, Harry sat bolt upright. He had known it was a bad idea for Snape to go, and he had warned him not to. Dumbledore placed Snape into the bed next to him and immediately began helping Madame Pomfrey to treat him.

"Will he be alright?" Harry asked, peeking around Dumbledore.

"We can only guess," said Madame Pomfrey gravely, pulling down various medical objects.

"Severus has come through a lot, Poppy," Dumbledore said indubitably. "I'm sure he'll pull through this."

"I certainly hope you're right, headmaster." She said, yet with a slight waver of doubt in her voice. She walked around Harry's bed.

"Take this," She said, handing him a potion. "It is a light slumbering potion. It would probably be best if you were asleep for now."

Harry didn't really want to take it. He wanted to stay awake and see what was to come of his professor. However, Madame Pomfrey was eyeing him with a very challenging glare, and he dared not to defy her. He downed the potion and allowed himself to fall back onto the pillows, slipping into another period of rest.

Once again, Harry was in what appeared to be somebody else's dream, and it involved the same two people as last time. This time, he was much closer though. And this time, they were seated at what appeared to be a small kitchen table.

The house he was in was very large, but the rooms (from what he could tell) were small and evenly spaced throughout. As he looked around, he saw that he was right in guessing that this was some sort of kitchen.

Harry seated himself at the table where they were and watched with interest. He was slightly more conscious than he had been in his previous dream, and he wasn't quite so blissfully unaware of the bizarreness of the situation.

"I don't know, Lily." Snape was saying. "You know, I spent so much time trying to convince him that I was something great, and the whole while I was overlooked for those miserable prats. Why bother now? Why waste my energy?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." Lily said gently, placing hand lightly on top of his forearm. "Dumbledore is a good man, and he has confessed to me his regrets in paying so little attention to you during your school years. But now he's trying to make amends, he's offering you this job… it's a great opportunity."

"A great opportunity to do what?" Snape said bitterly.

"To teach children Defense against the Dark Arts, of course." Lily said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And you're the first person he came to for the job. It pays well, and it's a very respectable position. The applications are flying in, Severus, don't turn this down. You love this subject, think about it."

"But I don't want to work for him." Snape said determinedly. "I could find work somewhere else, or we could just settle down. There's no harm in not working for now, while we're young. We could just enjoy ourselves."

Lily looked uncomfortable as she shifted in her seat and let her hands drop to her lap. "That's the thing, Severus. I've already accepted a job elsewhere. I mean, I was so sure you would want to take this one, well, I didn't want to end up bored while you were off teaching all the time."

"You took another job?" Snape asked, brow lifted in surprise. "Where?"

"The Department of Mysteries." Lily said. "Dumbledore reckons it'll be a good in on the ministry if a time comes when we need one, and it would keep me out of harm's way. Most never dare to attack an unspeakable, they're too valuable."

"Right," Snape said, nodding and sitting back in his chair.

"You're not angry, are you?" Lily asked, frowning.

Snape shook his head. "Not angry. But I don't want to take that job with Dumbledore. Maybe in the future…"

"Severus, the job will be filled by then. Wait and you'll end up in Potions or something, seeing as how you have a knack for that."

"I hate potions." Snape said quietly.

"I know," Lily said with a chuckle. "But with your aptitude, that's where you'll be."

Snape murmured something inaudibly and raised an eyebrow. Lily, looking slightly peeved with him, got up from her chair and busied herself with a half-sliced apple on the counter.

Harry yearned to keep watching, to satisfy his curiosity, but his potion was wearing off and he was becoming gradually more aware of his surroundings. Try as he might, he couldn't hold on to the dream- it slipped away as he awoke. When Harry finally opened his eyes, he realized the sun was already setting; he'd been asleep longer than he'd thought. He glanced over to the bed next to him, and saw that it was empty.

"Madame Pomfrey," He said to the woman fixing beds across the room. "What became of Professor Snape?"

"Oh, he's alright. A little bruised, still, but alright. Fool of a man, I swear, he's so lucky he heals well (it's due to all those bloody potions he takes to keep him ticking)… Well, he and Professor Dumbledore seemed to think that his condition was not a serious enough matter to keep them from attending to their 'private affairs'. They are speaking in Professor Snape's quarters."

Harry nodded politely, and then rolled onto his side.

So, Harry thought to himself, that was the reason Snape hated his job. He'd hated potions, and got the subject by second choice. But what had Snape been doing with his mother there? It almost seemed like they had been… in love.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 13

A Final Solution

xxx

"Careful," Dumbledore said as he helped Severus lower himself to the couch. "Poppy'll have our heads if any further damage is caused."

Severus allowed himself a grim smirk as he gingerly sank to the cool leather surface. "Nonsense. She can't very well have my head, I'm already injured."

"Well, she'll have mine then," Dumbledore agreed, sitting down across from Severus. There was a considerably long silence. Both men seemed to be reflecting on their individual thoughts, and each wondering what to say.

"I think we both know what has to be discussed." Dumbledore said quietly, watching Severus closely.

"Perhaps you are correct, Headmaster" Severus said wearily. "Perhaps the pain is not worth it. After all, it's not worth my life to find out important information such as, oh, I don't know, how to save the Wizarding world. We could deal with the Dark Lord taking over, but a world without me? Heavens," he scoffed, shaking his head, eyes wide as though just the thought were appalling.

"Now really, Severus, is such acerbity necessary?" said Dumbledore with an admonishing shake of his head. "Simply allow me to point out that spy work is not the only task we need you around for. You provide the mainstream of potions we use, some of which have saved our lives when we needed it most. You are very important to the order in more ways than you realize… and you're important as a friend."

"A friend to whom?" Severus sneered.

"To me," Dumbledore said firmly. "To your co-workers… some of your students."

"My students?" Severus asked with his eyebrows raised high. "And they being…? Albus, the entire school hates me, it's no secret."

"If some of the students are less than fond of you, you bring that upon yourself." Dumbledore said seriously, looking over his half moon spectacles. "But some of them look to you for guidance, the members of your own house, for instance."

Severus rolled his eyes. "They look to me because in comparison to the muggle loving fool their parents make you out to be, I'm the only teacher in the school with half a wit. The only one who has any sense. They don't look up to me, Dumbledore. They see me as someone on their side. An ally."

"Draco Malfoy?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Surely you are joking?" Severus said, an ironic expression gracing his face. "His father is Lucius Malfoy, one of, the most notorious Death Eater in the Dark Lord's circle, even if he has fallen out of his good graces at the moment. For Draco to follow in any footsteps other than his father's would be less likely than for my entire house to join the Order."

"And his warning, at the beginning of the year? It did not seem unfounded."

"For all we know, Albus, that "warning" was the reason for Harry's capture. They knew he would be at Hogwarts! How could they if Draco had not been their informant?"

"A good theory," said Dumbledore, nodding his head to the side. "But think of the good that could come from giving Draco the benefit of the doubt."

"I won't be doing anything to help him," said Severus with an air of finality. "I can't risk it; that could be exactly what the Dark Lord is waiting for. If he comes to me, I'll be willing to guide him, but unless that's the case, I'm afraid he'll have to do it all on his own."

"Precisely another reason why you might consider a change in position. Draco might take your place, if all went according to plan," suggested Dumbledore mildly, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.

"Take my place? Albus, please, the boy is far too thick- too spoiled, too arrogant- not unlike Potter in that way, if truth be told-"

Dumbledore looked hard at Severus, brow furrowed, and started softly, "Think of the boy who was coaxed into joining Voldemort nearly twenty years ago because he felt he had no other way out. Think what might have happened if he had known how strong the other side was, that he didn't have to give anything up to save his loved ones or himself. Severus, think how you could prevent the same thing from happening to another boy just by relinquishing this position."

There was a long silence, and when it was obvious that Severus had nothing to say to this, Dumbledore went on.

"Voldemort is becoming more and more alert and penetrating more than the surface of every given situation." Dumbledore said, standing in front of the fireplace and peering sternly down at Severus. "Unless, by some miracle, you evade his growing intelligence, he will soon discover you. I don't want to take that chance."

"And I don't want to take the chance of missing anything important." Severus said unwaveringly. "Just tonight, I may have found out some of the most important information that we've uncovered so far, and the Order should throw that kind of resource away just so I can be safe? You yourself have always said that you sometimes have to choose between what's right and what's easy. I once chose what was easy, and look what the result was. Now I have to do what's right.

"I'm not quitting." Severus now said in an unarguable tone. "Now, I think it's best we move on to more important subject matters, like the Dark Lord's ideas. That is why we came down here, is it not?"

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed in frustration. "What news?"

"Well, I know this will surprise you, but he's after Harry Potter," said Severus, and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"I could have guessed that much," said Dumbledore.

"His plans are still the same," Severus said in all seriousness, now rubbing his head and pulling out a parchment containing all of the information he needed to remember. "It seems the Dark Lord has lost some faith in the average spell work as he used to rely on. He has become obsessed with the power of potions- but since he's failed in procuring Potter for his potion, he'll need time to either capture him again or find a new "enemy" to use for its completion. If he follows through with the latter, this will still result in the same end result- he'll bind himself to his new prodigy and both will need to be killed in order for him to truly die."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I suspected he might be looking for some way to achieve immortality... it seems he has found it, though it is still a fallible plan. Is there no way to counter this potion?

"Not quite," Severus responded sourly. "Actually, Albus, that is the problem. Not only have we no counter, but Voldemort has already taken steps to ensure that Potter cannot defeat him. By taking Potter's blood to revive himself, he shares much of the power that differentiated the two. They are more connected than they have ever been, and if Potter is to survive till the end, we'll have to find some way to break this connection. Otherwise, the boy doesn't have a chance."

"Will learning Occlumency help?" Dumbledore asked, looking worried.

"Only to keep the Dark Lord out of his mind, and bring Potter more intellectual strength and discipline, if such a feat is possible. Beyond that, it can provide no means of defeating him." Severus paused, looked at the parchment again, and rubbed his temples. "Actually, Albus... there is one potion I found while researching counters to the Asterisus... but if I have interpreted it correctly for our situation, we won't be able to brew it correctly. If we could modify it, though, perhaps... but that would take years of research. I wouldn't feel safe testing any variation of it on Potter without at least several trials-"

Dumbledore's eyes were narrowed in intense concentration. "Explain," he said softly.

"With all the correct ingredients and a skillful brewer, this potion could break the connection between Harry and the Dark Lord. It would greatly weaken the Dark Lord while strengthening Harry by creating a transfer of power. It might, I believe, rid Harry of the effects of his curse scar, as well- something that may be beneficial even if it does not have all of the effects I've described thus far. I could, of course, start further research, but I doubt it would be of any use. We are lacking one key ingredient, and I doubt if we could find a way to substitute for it.

"The ingredient?" Dumbledore pressed.

Severus rolled his eyes and replied, "I've already told you, it's quite impossible. The spell calls for the blood of someone who is magically bound to the one you wish to destroy, and bound by blood to the one you wish to transfer power to."

"Magically bound-"

"As in, a Death Eater, who has taken the dark mark, a magical connection between the Dark Lord and his servant."

"And by bound by blood, you mean-"

"A close relative. A father, mother, or a sibling... but any other dilution will not work."

"Which means his relative would have to be a Death Eater." Dumbledore said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Severus nodded. "As I said, it's quite impossible; it is a strong and ancient magic. Blood magic is stronger than any connection forged by a spell- a spell such as the creation of the dark mark. If a Death Eater were to be used, this blood magic would effectively counteract any magical connections with the Voldemort for anyone who drinks it. But no matter. We'll have to find another way. We can develop substances that would weaken the Dark Lord, bring him closer to mortality, take powers, provide hindrances… I really think that would be the best way to go."

There was a moment of silence. The warm light from the fireplace glowing behind Dumbledore made him look most impressive as he rubbed his chin meditatively, gazing unfocused at Severus.

"I want to try the potion." Dumbledore finally said resolutely, rising from where he was seated.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Albus, I've already explained, it's impossible—"

"It's not." Dumbledore said softly, looking directly at Severus. "Severus, there's something I have not been completely truthful with you about..."

A flicker of doubtful understanding crossed the Potions Master's face as he registered the headmaster's words.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 14

Chain of Memories

xxx

"Dumbledore," Severus said in a low growl barely above a whisper, his voice shaking with fury and eyes narrowed in accusation. He didn't call the man by his first name as he had done for the past ten years; he was too angry. How could the man he trusted most have kept something like this from him? He knew that Dumbledore often kept things secret, but he hadn't expected anything this big… or this personal. His dangerous tone remained the same. "Do not tell me—"

"Severus, you have to believe I did it to protect you," Dumbledore said. His voice was calm and authoritative, but his blue eyes held a quality of pleading that could hardly be missed.

"From what?" Severus spat. "Bollocks you did this to protect me! You did this because you're afraid that I won't bend to your will if I'm not living in my own dreary world of guilt."

"You know it's nothing like that," Dumbledore said in a subtly peremptory tone.

"I knew," Severus laid definite sarcasm on this word, "that I could trust you," He finished darkly. "Yet here we are."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Would you have taken him? Would you have accepted him?"

"It doesn't matter!" Severus exclaimed, hoisting himself from the couch with a great deal of effort. "It wasn't up for you to decide! If he's my son, I had a right to know! He had a right to know!"

Dumbledore gazed at the younger wizard, at a loss for words. Of course, he was right, but at the time, Dumbledore had known only the bitter, uncaring side of him. Severus was always been guarded, careful to prevent vulnerability by closing himself off from any person he did not know and trust. Dumbledore'd had no idea what the man could be like; he'd only seen the dark, emotionless mask the man had worn.

"I was sure you would have harbored bitter resentment towards Lily for what she'd done," Dumbledore said quietly, "and I still believe you would have. I couldn't send Harry to that."

Severus was still staring at the Headmaster in disbelief, in shock from what he'd just been told and trembling with irrepressible rage. His skin was paling from the stress of standing up, and he discretely placed his hand on the table to steady himself, preparing a response as he did so.

"Severus, sit down, you'll hurt yourself," Dumbledore said, moving forward.

"Don't tell me to sit down," Severus said, drawing back his hand and menacingly moving towards him. "You as good as told me I killed my own child, Dumbledore," He paused, looking at Dumbledore in an expression of deep anguish, as though to impress upon the man just how much agony this had caused him. It was a mark of just how close the two had become over the years that he did so, but this fact did not restrain Severus from his lividness as he barreled on. "You've always made decisions that I thought were not yours to make, but I stood behind you because I believed that— maybe you were just on some other plane of wisdom and others couldn't see the reason for your madness. I trusted your judgment, but this is beyond the pale of the things you've said and done."

"Please sit down," Dumbledore said quietly, unable to produce any words to defend himself. "If you have more to say to me, I will listen, I am willing to admit that I deserve it. But don't injure yourself. Sit down."

Severus looked at the headmaster in disbelief for a moment. He had hardly heard a word that had left Dumbledore's mouth; he was too busy dwelling on the fact that this man had known all along, yet had never said anything. He was battling his feelings of hurt and betrayal, trying instead to put on a front of anger and malice. As Dumbledore looked into his eyes, however, Severus realized the man couldn't be fooled. "Why?" he finally asked quietly, still standing.

Dumbledore looked into the pained face of the young, darkly clad wizard, and could feel only remorse. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you what I'd kept from you all these years. Lily told me on the condition that I would never say anything to you, and for a long time, I wanted to be loyal to her wishes. She told me you hit her… she told me a few things, and I'd heard a number of rumors from others. I'm now sorry to say that I blindly believed most of them. I didn't think you were the kind of man who could raise a child, especially one at such an impressionable age, who came with so much baggage. Considering the history with your father… well, I thought Harry was better off with his aunt and uncle."

"Better off?" Severus said, shaking his head. "Do you know the way those people have treated him?"

"I knew it wouldn't be easy for him," Dumbledore said. "But I never imagined they would express open hatred for him. Now I see you would have been the better choice. Over the years, I've come to know you very well, and I've seen a much better man than I'd estimated. I first thought of telling you eleven years ago, but then I thought that the transition might have been too much for Harry, and I knew you would be angry."

Severus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Did you ever bother to check on him? It sounds as though the thought of telling me no more than crossed your mind, much less that it was a was a plan over which you carefully debated, as you normally do when things are important to you," Severus paused, treasuring the feeling of triumph upon seeing the punctured look on Dumbledore's face at this insinuation. "I would understand your reasoning much better if he had been happy with them, but he wasn't, still isn't. Quite the contrary, he was and is miserable. I've seen not even a tenth of his unpleasant memories with them, but for a while, they were enough to make even me pity him. Hell, I was almost tolerant of him until he went and invaded my thoughts."

"As I've already noted, Severus, I had no idea, and I hoped Lily's family would be somewhat like her. I knew Petunia hated her sister, but I thought maybe she had a good heart like Lily had. Yes, perhaps they've been unkind, but it's not as though you've been any better towards him, Severus," Dumbledore reasoned.

"And yet I'm not the one I see in the worst of his memories during Occlumency," Severus poignantly stated. "I'm his teacher; he can deal with the fact that I hate him. Family is a different story… and at least I had good reason."

"Don't try to justify your treatment of the boy," Dumbledore said reprovingly, something flashing ominously behind his blue eyes.

"Then don't try to justify your negligence!" Severus bit back, holding his gaze in a challenging glare.

The two held eye contact for a moment, and Dumbledore sighed in capitulation. "It wasn't meant as neglect. Lily—"

"I don't want to talk about her, Dumbledore," Severus said as he fought to restrain his once again rising temper. "I want to talk about the boy. So you say you didn't know about his family situation. Well, I don't remember you saying anything once you'd found out."

Dumbledore nodded in contrition. "Over time, it became easier to simply keep it from you both, and you must understand, the mutual enmity you two developed during merely his first year made it seem best to keep the news quiet. However, after last summer's events, I started to feel it would be best for him to be somewhere where he could be defended. Yes, Hogwarts will do for now, but soon he will need a home where he can really be safe. Your home is guarded from ministry wards, so he could work on his skills there and could protect himself without risking expulsion, and I have faith you would at least be decent to him. I've been considering this for a year now, and the consideration has only grown stronger since Sirius' death. I'm worried about him, Severus. He needs someone there for him, someone to care, and perhaps-"

"You're right," Severus said, voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance, "I'll be a fine replacement for his beloved godfather, I shall hasten straight away so that we do not lose any more bonding time."

Dumbledore ignored him and continued. "Malfoy's warning solidified my decision, though, and the night you came to my office, I was planning to tell you that I'd just discovered the relation between you two. However, once you saw the memory, I knew you would never believe such a story. I couldn't betray your trust… so I—"

"You lied," Severus finished darkly. "The great wizard who is afraid of nothing was frightened of losing some of his credibility, so he lied."

"To be afraid of nothing is a quality I never claimed to possess," Dumbledore said softly. "And I wasn't afraid of losing credibility… I was afraid of losing your trust and companionship," He lowered his head. "But I'm afraid I may have accomplished that anyway."

"Maybe you have," Severus said morosely. "Or maybe you haven't." He stared Dumbledore in the eyes, trying to determine the sincerity of the man's words. No matter how hard he looked, however, could he find anything within those swirling orbs of blue besides pleading compassion. He didn't know if his trust would ever return to the man. He did know that he couldn't hate him forever; Dumbledore was the one person who had stuck with him and given him his undeserved trust when no one else would. Severus had been more open with him than with anyone since Lily. However, he couldn't get past the fact that this man would have allowed him to suffer so much just to spare himself, and he wondered how many times it had happened in the past.

"You have your pensieve?" Dumbledore asked, interrupting Severus' thoughts.

"In my bedroom, why?" Severus questioned suspiciously.

Dumbledore didn't answer, he simply responded by retrieving the pensieve. He set it on the table, and lifted his wand to his head. He extracted a single memory, placed it inside the bowl, and looked at Severus purposefully.

"It's my conversation with Lily," Dumbledore said quietly. "You deserve to know what happened."

Severus looked at him strangely for a moment, and then slowly approached the swirling substance. After a moment of apprehension and a sideways glance at Dumbledore, he leaned forward, and was soon being pulled headfirst into the memory. He felt a great amount of trepidation towards what he was about to see. He didn't know if he did want to see it… maybe he was better off not knowing what had transpired between the two that would cause a man of such morality to pursue such deceit.

Severus landed on the hard ground of Dumbledore's office and looked around. It had hardly changed at all; the only difference in this parallel universe was the absence of a few trinkets and much less clutter. The portraits were arranged on the walls in exactly the same manner, the same amount of warm light streamed through the open windows. The furnished wood was still a deep maple that provided a cheerful, welcoming glow, and the aged yet polished furniture stood in all the proper places to match their positions today.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, poring over the papers in front of him with an expression of deep vexation. He reached up and scratched his head pensively, frowning at the yellowing parchments spread across the glossy wooden surface.

Severus watched him for a moment, before a small knock on the door commanded both men's attention. Dumbledore looked towards the door, an expression of mild agitation present on his face. Casting one last glance at his work, Dumbledore rose and moved towards the door.

When the door was pulled open, Severus was not in the least bit surprised by what he saw. Dumbledore, however, was.

Standing there, a disheveled mess, was Lily Evans. She was trembling slightly, and her cheeks and eyes were a dark, tear streaked red. She was clutching her arms to herself as she peered behind Dumbledore and looked around to see that he was alone.

"Lily?" Dumbledore said softly, looking down on his former student, slightly stunned at her arrival. "Are you alright?"

Lily shrugged. "Can I come in?" She asked in a quiet, hoarse voice, a telltale sign that she'd been crying for quiet a while.

"Of course," said Dumbledore, standing aside and closing the door behind her. Severus watched from a detached perspective as Dumbledore led her to his desk and sat her down in front of it.

She looked as though her stomach were literally turning over inside of her, upset to the brink of nausea.

"I need your help," Lily started in the same quiet, dejected voice. "But I won't ask a thing of you unless you can promise me one thing."

Dumbledore nodded graciously, yet was clearly worried about what he might be agreeing to. "What is it?"

Lily looked up slowly. Her face was set in a stony, despondent expression as she looked straight into his eyes and said in a voice more serious than ever, "You can't ever tell Severus. He can never know what I must tell you."

Severus tore his eyes from her face, unable to bear the absolute despair present on it because it stirred something in him. He much preferred the depressed apathy with which he was watching the situation to the guilt he felt from knowing he caused it.

"And what is it that you must tell me?" Dumbledore asked slowly.

"I'm- I am carrying Severus' child," Lily started, rising from her seat. "I was so excited to tell him... the moment he returned home from his trip, I told him I had news. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at first," she said shakily, choking back a sob. "But then, I was so excited, I probably wouldn't have noticed. But we went inside, and when he reached to give me a cup of tea, his left sleeve fell back, and I saw something that disturbed me deeply."

She noticeably blinked back several tears before continuing. "Headmaster… he's taken the dark mark. I don't know when he did it, or why, really. But I knew, instantly, that I had to change my story- he was already asking what I had wanted to tell him. If I had told him I was carrying his child... he would never let me go. I can't bring my child into that kind of life. I thought quickly... I'm still not certain I made the right decision in that moment, but I had little choice." Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I couldn't tell him after that, I couldn't, and I knew it would take a lot to get him to concede to a divorce so suddenly. None of the stories I thought of would have explained the baby, and he can't ever know he has a child. It had to be believable, and enough to make him end things and want nothing to do with me or the baby-"

She was rambling, now, but Dumbledore waved a hand for her to cease her explanation, and asked gently, "What did you tell him, Lily?"

Lily ran a shaky hand through her hair and looked down as it fell back to her lap. "I said that the baby belonged to James." She started crying again.

"Oh, my dear," Dumbledore said, eyes full of concern.

"He reacted so violently, Dumbledore," Lily bitterly cut him off, choking back her sobs. "If not for that, I might consider returning- asking for his side of the story- but... he knocked me to the floor and threw me out of the house," She shook her head. "I don't know exactly what I expected, but that wasn't it. He was livid, violent. I've always told myself he gentle, kinder than others thought- at least where I was concerned. But now- I think- with his violent family history... perhaps it's better that I did what I did. Maybe I got out just in time..."

A horrible pang hit inside Severus' chest at this, and he could not ignore the rapidly sinking feeling in his stomach, as though someone had just pulled the floor out from underneath his feet.

Lily stood up and walked across the room, taking Dumbledore's pensieve from the shelf. She raised her wand to her dark red head, and drew the silvery substance of memory from it.

"He'll never forgive me," She said quietly, turning back around and facing Dumbledore. "And I don't want him to make our child suffer in my memory… I never would have thought he would before, but then, I never saw this coming either. James has agreed to marry me, so that no one will suspect anything against my story. He's always been such a good friend."

"The memory?" Dumbledore questioned.

"A replica," Lily responded. "You're the only one who knows about this, other than James and myself. We're naming Sirius godfather, but I don't trust him with this information. He'd use it to taunt Severus, and I won't let that happen. If anything is to happen, I know you'll take care of things accordingly. This is so you'll understand what words cannot say. Then you'll understand what I have asked of you in this letter," She held up a thick envelope.

"Child—" Dumbledore said, taking a few steps towards her.

"I must go," Lily said, shaking her head. "I must go."

She placed the long letter on top of his desk, and looked at him for a moment. "I can't go back to him," She said. "But if you can help him, I pray you will. I can't live with the fact that he's playing pawn to Voldemort; it's killing me inside. Please, for his sake, bring him back to our side."

Dumbledore hesitated to answer, knowing his response was the only thing for which she was waiting to walk out the door. He wanted her to stay; he wanted to find out more about what had happened so he could try to help her. Still, he said, "I'll do what I can, Lily."

Lily nodded. "Thank you," And with that, she left his office.

The memory had ended, and Severus felt himself being pulled back up through the dark mist. When he'd arrived back in his own quarters, he said nothing, he simply sank to the couch, looking drained of all energy and overwhelmed by the weight of the situation.

There was a tense silence. Severus could feel Dumbledore's gaze on him as he contemplated his thoughts on what he'd just seen. It hurt him to know he'd caused Lily so much grief; and what was worse, she had still cared about him even after the way he'd treated her. She had still beseeched Dumbledore to help him get out of trouble, even though it would serve her no benefit. But then, that was Lily. No matter how cruelly one acted towards her, she would never wish them any real harm.

"What do you plan to do?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"About Potter?" Severus asked flatly.

"Will you approach him?" Dumbledore asked. "He's a bright boy. He will find out eventually, but I think he would prefer to hear it from you. It will be less difficult in the long run if you tell him now, instead of allowing him to come to the truth by himself. Such an event would only further his feelings of betrayal."

"Funny," Severus said bitingly, "How you give advice that you don't follow yourself."

Dumbledore looked away. "I'm sorry, Severus. I truly am."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "'Sorry' doesn't change anything. It never has."

"Maybe not for you," Dumbledore paused. "Maybe because you don't hear it enough."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't analyze me, Dumbledore. 'Sorry' doesn't change anything because you can't take back a lie, and I don't forgive easily."

"And neither does Harry," Dumbledore added. "Severus, talk to him. If only to inform him, talk to him."

"If only to inform him," Severus scoffed. "Oh, yes, that'll go over well. 'Ten points from Gryffindor- Oh, and I almost forgot; Harry, I'm your father, your mother and I were married but she left me when I got my dark mark, and I got angry and scared her away so she never came back. See you in Potions on Monday.' Please, Dumbledore, I know you better than that. You're hoping for some father/son relationship that you can smile at and say, 'Oh, I've done well here."

"This isn't for me," Dumbledore said, his tone the sternest it had been during the entire conversation. "This is for him. I'm worried about him; the combination of his school and home life can't be healthy, and he may well turn out to be the most powerful wizard in history. Now that Sirius is dead, he has no one as any sort of father figure, any sort of confidant."

"He has his friends, the Weasley family," Severus said. "He has you."

"Harry has lost a lot of faith in me, at the moment, and I daresay it used to be his faith in me that he valued the most. He needs someone else..."

"And if I tell him only to inform him, with no means of creating a relationship, do you think that will comfort him!" Severus exclaimed, eyes widened at the audacity of this notion. "I've known of this not five minutes, and you're asking me for a decision on how to ease him into it? I haven't even accepted it yet! You hide this from me for years, allow me to grow to hate the child, and then expect me to forget all of that?"

"You have to be the adult here, Severus," Dumbledore said authoritatively.

"I can be the adult, but you're asking me to be a father," Severus said. "I don't even know the boy."

"You have for the past five years-"

"If the boy I've known for the past five years is the boy who's supposed to be my son," Severus started loudly, drowning out Dumbledore's voice of growing frustration, "then I don't know if I want to be his father."

Dumbledore looked away, shaking his head in disapproval. "Sirius loved him from the moment he set eyes on him, and he'd never even spoken with him. He saw the best in Harry because it's what you do for the people close to you, the people who are supposed to be your family… as I did for you, when you were lost and alone. Harry might not have made it through the last two years if not for Sirius, and now he's gone and Harry feels alone. You could fix that."

"Don't talk to me about Black," Severus said in spiteful remembrance. "That's not the topic. I don't want to think about any of them."

Dumbledore considered him for a moment. "Severus, why do you go on holding such grudges? I can understand the way you've felt about James Potter, but why hold the rest in such bitter memory?"

"I think you always underestimate just how horrible they were to me in school," Severus said critically. "And even worse was the treatment after Lily and James were married. They all seemed to think I'd done something to her to chase her to Potter."

"They were right, in a way," Dumbledore said.

There was a short pause, and Severus said, "I think it's time to bring this conversation to an end."

"Perhaps if I talked to him," Dumbledore offered.

"If you do," Severus said, narrowing his eyes menacingly. "I will never forgive you. You are already walking a fine line with me, and if you interfere with this issue any further, I will never trust you again."

There was another short pause in which Dumbledore seemed to be deciding how to respond to this.

"Understood," Dumbledore finally said, standing up to leave. "But Severus, for all of our sakes, don't shut him out. His emotional stability is key in winning this war."

"I won't befriend the boy as part of a ploy to win against the Dark Lord," Severus said, shaking his head. "If I do, it will be because I feel I should. You may use people as pawns to your game, but as I know what that feels like, I won't."

"Goodnight, Severus," Dumbledore said after a moment.

"Goodnight," Severus said with a curt nod, before watching Dumbledore disappear out the door.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 15

Ultimatum

xxx

Severus slowly made his way towards his bed, leaning on any stable object he could for support. His body was very tired; he had endured a lot that day. Thankfully, he'd spent much of his time during the past twenty years developing immunity and strengthening potions, and his body was able to endure much more than the average person's. However, torture such as he'd received still took its toll. His head was pounding, his wounds throbbing. To make matters worse, he was weighted with a heavy decision: whether or not he would tell Harry.

He couldn't even think clearly enough to make that decision.

Severus was used to hiding his emotion and blocking out any upsetting thoughts that should come his way. Even he, however, was susceptible to the emotion caused by what he'd learned this day. There were too many things on his mind to block them all out, and they were all relevant to one another, which made them all the more difficult to deal with.

The hardest to deal with was the fact that, once again, the dark mark had turned out to be the culprit of a major source of misery in his life. He had loved Lily, more than anyone had ever known… possibly even more than she ever knew. But over the years, he had come to hate her so much; oh, he still loved the woman he'd married, but he hated the woman that he divorced. Not once had he regretted throwing her from his home. Sometimes he even wished he'd done more, sent her back to Potter in a much worse state than he did. He wanted to make her to pay for what she did to him, and if she were still alive, he would have. Now he knew he should feel differently, but he didn't know if he could let go of all those feelings. He had thought she hated him, he had even thought, on rare occasions, perhaps she had planned it all along. Had she been capable of such malice and vice, he would have believed it true… because it did hurt, it had so hurt.

But she hadn't hated him. She had simply done what she had always done; the right thing. She did it to protect her child, and would have gone back to him had he not reacted to her so violently…

Severus understood this now. He'd spent years brooding over these past events, and now he was haunted by the life he could have had. He could have been happy, he never would have had to turn spy. He wouldn't be spending his life miserable… Lily might even still be alive. Severus had learned of the prophecy this year; Dumbledore had told him to impress the importance of protecting the prophecy and Harry. Voldemort had no idea that Severus had thrice defied him, so he never would have come after Harry. He would have gone after the Longbottoms, and Neville would have been marked with the scar that sat upon his son's head today.

Severus would have been able to watch his son grow up, keep him safe, teach him what he needed to know. Furthermore, the boy wouldn't have turned out the way he was. Instead of turning into a defiant, arrogant brat who thought he deserved the world's attention, he might have turned out much differently. The two might not hate each other as they did now…

Had the circumstances been different, Severus would have been very anxious to meet this boy now being labeled his son. He would have thought about all the things he wanted to say, how he would apologize for everything that had happened. He liked the idea of his and Lily's child, of having him around, having someone around. What he was not wild about was having that someone be Harry Potter. The biological relationship between the two changed nothing, Potter was Potter, and that would not change. He could not break him of his cockiness, (he doubted anyone could,) and he could not pretend the past five years hadn't happened.

Severus wanted to know his son… he just wasn't sure how he felt about Harry Potter. Somehow, he couldn't connect the two.

xxx

Harry Potter abruptly jerked out of his deep sleep and sat up in alarm, clutching his rapidly beating heart and sweating profusely. He stared around into the dark hospital wing, and as he realized where he was, his breathing slowed.

Harry had been in the hospital wing for three days now, and he didn't know if the jumpy feeling of the ward was inducing all these dreams, but he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Once again, Harry had been having a dream that centered around his Potions Master, Professor Snape. He couldn't understand why the man suddenly occupied the thoughts running through his head every night while he was asleep. Even more confusing was the fact that his mother was also in many of them. Was this another ploy of Voldemort, trying to drive him to insanity? Perhaps Snape was doing it on purpose, keeping him from feeling too comfortable around him; the man was an extremely gifted legilimens.

Harry had a good idea, however, that these dreams weren't intended to happen by anyone. They had been occurring only since the traumatic day he'd experienced a few nights ago, the day in which his Professor had unintentionally saved him through a connection giving grip. Every part of Harry's intuition told him that the thoughts flashing through his head whenever his eyes fell closed were the result of the connection they'd shared, and perhaps withdrawal from it…

The day he'd left for his doomed Death Eater's meeting was the last day Snape had spoken with Harry. He hadn't come to the hospital wing, and from what Harry gathered from the conversations that took place while he was supposed to be asleep, he had been avoiding Dumbledore as well. Of course, the comments he'd overheard had been very vague; most of them were simple questions regarding Snape's condition or whereabouts, and Dumbledore's responses of, "He won't see me."

Harry was sure it was due only to delirium that he had perceived Snape as being somewhat agreeable the last time they'd spoken, and the same fact was to be attributed to his previous worry for the irate professor. His mind had been in a fog the moment he'd tried so with so much effort to keep Snape there, fearful for his well-being, and Harry refused to think for a second that it was out of genuine care that he'd done so. It was clear that in the confusion of the then-recent events, Harry had seen Snape as someone who'd just saved his life out of compassion, not obligation. Now, however, it was plain, and Harry was quite embarrassed he hadn't seen it before; Snape had saved him simply out of duty.

So it was with these feelings that Harry, very disgruntled, made his way down to Snape's office that afternoon. When he'd awoken early in the morning, Madame Pomfrey had informed him of his release and handed him a small note from the Headmaster. The neat, loopy writing scrawled across the tiny slip of parchment formed the worst words Harry could have feared to occur in the same sentence: "Meet Professor Snape in his office at one' o clock in the afternoon for Occlumency."

xxx

Harry arrived in the cool, torch lit dungeons five minutes ahead of schedule. It always depressed him to be down there, for it usually meant three very bad things; Slytherins, Potions, and Snape. Today, it meant only the latter; still Harry didn't exactly consider himself lucky. This was typical of Harry's life; on one of the worst days possible, in the worst circumstances, with the worst thoughts running through his head, Harry was to be locked in an office with Snape for two hours, having his mind repeatedly and relentlessly attacked and having no clue how to stop it. The sun was shining; the birds were chirping. Butterflies fluttered through the fields of flowers surrounding the great stone castle, (Well maybe not, but this was the way Harry had formed the picture in his mind), and he was sentenced to the dark dungeons of Hogwarts with his equally dark professor.

When he reached the door to Snape's office, he saw that it was already open. He tentatively stepped inside and looked around, but Snape was nowhere to be seen. Had he forgotten about this afternoon's lesson? Or had he been called away on other business, such as a Death Eater's meeting?

Harry cautiously advanced into the room, still looking around for his professor. His absence was a curious one; it was unlike him to be late, but if he had left for good, he certainly wouldn't have left his door opened and unguarded. Harry surveyed the top of his desk and examined the surrounding shelves, looking for some sign of Snape's whereabouts. The only thing his inspection told him, however, was that the man wasn't fond of dusting. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Potter!" The door hit the wall with a resounding BOOM as it was thrown further open.

Harry jumped so badly that he was surprised to find himself still inside his skin afterwards. He spun around, eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" Severus demanded accusingly, looking him over.

"Nothing, sir," Harry said. He didn't really care to explain that he was trying to find out where Snape had gone by the state of his shelves.

"No one can ever do 'nothing', Potter," Severus said, remaining where he was and folding his arms over his chest. "Even if all you're doing is staring at the wall, you're still doing something."

Harry stared at him in a moment of indecision, weighing the pros and cons of being respectful or retorting smartly, as his eventual petulance seemed inevitable.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to meet you here for Occlumency," Harry decidedly responded, repressing his inclination to irascibility.

Something flashed inscrutably behind Snape's eyes for a split second, but was gone before Harry could ponder what it was.

"Did he?" Severus responded dispassionately. "Well, disappointed though I know you will be, Potter, I have much more important things to attend to, and as these lessons are hardly more than a waste of time, there's no point in my ignorance of more heavily weighted tasks-"

"But Professor Dumbledore—"

"I hardly care," Severus said, voice just as cold as before. "It is, after all, my office, not Dumbledore's, therefore the decision of whether or not you will remain in it is strictly for me to decide. Now, unless you'd like to remain in it every night for the rest of the holiday serving detentions, I suggest you leave."

"You can't give me a detention," Harry responded angrily. "I haven't even done anything!"

"Correction," Severus said softly, a smirk curling around his thin lips. "It hasn't been discovered that you've done anything, but if you'd like that to change…"

Harry considered arguing further, but then he had a revelation. Why was he standing here, arguing with Snape about Occlumency lessons? He was free! He could leave, and he wouldn't get in trouble for it. The only way anyone would be upset would be if Dumbledore were to find out, and Harry certainly wasn't telling.

"Right," Harry said after a moment. "I'll leave you to your important work."

For a moment, Snape looked as though he were going to reprimand Harry for his tone, but seemingly had the same idea as Harry; he was getting what he wanted, so why be bothered? He shot Harry a dangerous glare, but stepped aside to allow him access to the open doorway. Without another word, Harry left, ready to spend the rest of his day completely Snape-free.

Harry wandered down the corridors, heading towards the Gryffindor tower. He'd spent very little time there since he'd arrived, and since it would be swarming with noisy students in a matter of weeks, Harry was looking forward to enjoying what quiet time it had to offer now, before he no longer could.

It was strange to think that there had been a time when it had been difficult finding the way to the common room. Harry could remember being a first year, struggling to remember the locations of all his different classes and getting lost on his journeys to the dormitories, being sure that the suits of armor rearranged themselves just to confuse him. Now, Harry had walked these halls so many times, he could easily find his way back, even if he was making no conscious effort to do so. It was as though his feet just knew where to carry him- and he liked that. Every year, the castle began to feel more and more like home to him, and every year, he became more and more afraid of losing it…

At times like this, when the castle seemed so safe and so peaceful, it was difficult to grip the fact that a war was raging outside of it. Even more difficult to grip was the fact that Harry had a major part in it; he could ultimately turn out to be the deciding factor of which side came out victorious. His friends complained about their homework, parents, and professors, but that was nothing compared to the stress Harry was facing. For the first time in a long while, the realization struck that life was no longer a simple matter of what to do and how to do it; life was now a privilege that he had to struggle to keep. An odd feeling it was, to know that every day could be his last.

Harry came to turn a corner; he was drawing nearer to the Gryffindor Common room. His mind was set on the new books he'd bought in Diagon Alley, especially the one for Magic on the Offense. Little did he know, however, that his plans were about to be foiled.

"Harry?" His name was called out by a gentle voice. It was Dumbledore; he was standing at the end of the hallway, frowning.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked, slowly and deliberately approaching.

Wonderful. And he had been so happy to be off to Gryffindor tower, with all the free time in the world. It was though Dumbledore had been waiting for him; why did he have to know everything?

"Er-," Harry said, searching his mind for an excuse, and groaning inwardly at his lack of inspiration.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, disappointment lurking in his expression and concern evident in his eyes. "Harry," he started, closing the gap between them, "Do you remember the conversation we had at number 12?"

"Yes," Harry replied, looking at his feet. What could he do now? Dumbledore was going to question him, and unless he told him about what happened with Snape, it was going to seem as though he'd abandoned his promise to try harder in Occlumency. But if he did relinquish the story, Snape was going to be furious with him.

"Why aren't you where I asked you to be?" Dumbledore asked, surveying him with the same disenchanted expression on his aged face.

"Well, I did go," Harry said, trying to sound casual about it. "But Professor Snape said he had other work to attend to, and I didn't want to keep him, so I thought I could just use this time to work on the rest of my essays."

Harry's flippancy didn't have the effect he'd hoped for; Dumbledore wasn't fooled.

"He did?" Dumbledore asked disbelievingly. "He told you to leave?"

"Yeah," Harry said dismissively, "But it's alright, I really have to do that homework—"

"No, it's not alright," Dumbledore said abruptly. He looked off to the side, quiet for a moment. He looked completely incensed, and it seemed as though he was deciding exactly what to do. After he seemed to have made up his mind, he turned to Harry again. "I want you to come with me."

Harry looked as though he was going to object, but he never got the chance to. Dumbledore turned and headed towards the dungeons, and Harry had no other choice except to follow.

He dragged his feet at a short distance behind the Headmaster, dreading Snape's reaction to when they arrived. What would he say? What would he do? Obviously, he was in no position to refuse to give Harry the lessons, but Harry was sure that he would make him pay for bringing Dumbledore into it.

Before long, Dumbledore was standing in front of Snape's office door, raptly knocking on it.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, still knocking. "I demand that you open this door at once. I know you're in there, and if I have to force the door open-"

There was a loud clang from the inside, followed by a pained curse. They could hear someone moving around within the room, and Dumbledore stopped knocking and stood back, waiting for Snape to come to the door.

There was a short silence; Harry waited with his breath held for whatever was to come. After a moment, the door opened, and Snape was standing there, a dark glower on his sallow face.

"Is there some sort of life-threatening problem, headmaster?" Severus said softly, keeping his tone under control, but doing nothing to withhold his contemptuous sneer. "Or have you finally come up with another lie to-," He stopped speaking abruptly, catching sight of Harry, and looked back to Dumbledore in question, eyes narrowed.

"I just discovered Harry roaming the halls," Dumbledore said in an even tone, surveying Severus with abated scrutiny. "Which surprised me, since I specifically requested that he be here, learning Occlumency. Perhaps you'd like to explain to me why he is not?"

Harry shrunk back slightly as Snape turned his glare towards him, his eyes spitting all the insults and accusations his lips could not. After a short moment, he looked away, erasing the enraged look from his face.

"You requested this?" Severus asked, in a voice expressing not but innocence.

"Yes, Severus, I did," Dumbledore said, looking at him warningly as if to say 'don't even try playing innocent'. And in fact, this was exactly what Dumbledore was thinking. He had come to know Severus very well over the years, and could tell from the look of his black, nearly emotionless eyes when he had slid on his mask of suppression. It hurt to see it now; Severus normally reserved this for those he could not trust at all. It was hard for Dumbledore to think that he had now been put into that category.

"Really?" Severus said silkily, raising his eyebrows. "I received no notice."

Dumbledore's face had not changed, but his azure eyes were blazing with such austerity as Severus had not seen in years. He held Snape in a piercing stare, furious at the lack of respect with which the man was facing him. Suddenly, he pushed past Snape and went straight into his office, heading towards the desk.

"What are you doing?" Severus questioned quickly, trying to conceal his apprehension, and following the headmaster inside.

Dumbledore didn't respond. He sifted through the papers on top of Snape's desk, and after a moment, pointedly held up a small piece of parchment between his thumb and his index finger. Severus looked from the parchment to Dumbledore, unsure how to react. It was the note he'd received this morning; he'd hoped that the old man wouldn't think to check for it.

"Don't lie to me, Severus," Dumbledore said deeply, power radiating from his voice. "You can hate me all you like, and you can hold everything I've done against me. But you will respect me, you will follow my orders, and you will not sit there and lie to my face."

Defiance flashed in Snape's eyes; everything about him looked dark and menacing, but he remained silent.

"Harry," Dumbledore called out, turning towards the hallway, where Harry still was. "Come in here, and close the door behind you."

Snape's eyes flew to Dumbledore, wide with panic. "Don't you dare!" He hissed in a voice barely above a whisper, shaking his head with as little motion possible.

Harry did as he was told, but with a sickened feeling growing inside. Both men looked absolutely enraged, and were the last two men's fury he wanted to be caught in the middle of, let alone the source of.

He took a seat in front of Snape's desk, trying to avoid both Professors' eyes. Dumbledore was still standing behind Snape's desk, and Snape was still positioned on the floor in front of it, standing closely behind Harry.

"I asked you to begin Occlumency lessons today, Severus," Dumbledore began, still holding the parchment. "If there was a conflict, you should have informed me of it, rather than waiting until Harry arrived and then turning him away. He should not be faced with the dilemma of which adult to listen to, and you should not be putting him in that situation. I should be able to feel confident that you will help him, not make things more difficult. Am I going to have to supervise every lesson between the two of you in order to make that happen?"

"I should think it would be quite clear," Severus replied smoothly, "That if I haven't spoken to you, you're at no liberty to decide when these lessons will take place. A simple note being sent to my office does not bind me to the duty of carrying them out, and you should be sharp enough to realize that unless I respond, I am not obligated to, and therefore won't, make time for them."

"They should be a priority, you don't make time for priorities, you make time for everything else," Dumbledore said, voice growing more and more threatening.

"The Order is my priority, but this boy is not!" Severus said, taking a few steps forward.

Harry would have been offended if it were not for the fact that this was Snape talking.

"If that's the truth, then I think you must have your priorities rather confused, Severus," Dumbledore countered, aiming a pointed glare at him.

There was silence. Harry longed to turn in his chair to see the look on Snape's face, but he dared not to.

"I think this is a conversation we should be having in private," Severus said in a voice clearly forced under control. "Potter really has no need to be a part of it."

"I disagree—"

"That's too bad," Severus said, moving towards the door. He jerked it open. "Potter leaves, or I do."

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 16

Subtle Threats

xxx

Before Dumbledore could respond, Harry rose from his chair; he had had enough. He didn't want Dumbledore trying to persuade them to make peace, and he was sick of Snape talking so brusquely about him as if he weren't there. What right did either of them have, sitting around and discussing him, and then dragging him into whatever dispute carried over from that? Dumbledore was right; he shouldn't be faced with the decision of which adult to listen to. But did the headmaster realize how hypocritical it was to then turn around and involve him in an argument that he should have no part in, forcing him to choose sides?

"That's fine," Harry said irritably, heading out the door. "I don't want to be here anyways. I'll leave you two," he paused at the door, not turning around, and allowed his voice to carry the irony of the rest of his statement, "to have another conversation about, but not involving, me."

Snape raised his eyebrows, taken aback by how true the words the boy spoke were. Had he not been so furious with the headmaster, he probably would have registered them in a much more offended way; now, he felt almost pleased at Dumbledore's unhappy expression.

"Severus, you will not undermine my authority," Dumbledore said, stepping towards the door. Harry, however, had already set off down the hall, and Severus slammed the door shut before Dumbledore could follow him.

"Ah," Severus said disdainfully, "but I believe in this case, that authority belongs to me, now doesn't it? He is, after all, my son."

"Until you acknowledge that," Dumbledore said stonily, his face maintaining its placid look of calm, but an irrepressible look of fury flying into his eyes, "you have no claim to any authority above mine. Step aside."

"No," Severus said, positioning himself further in front of the door. He knew this was an unwise choice, he knew that Dumbledore could easily remove him from his path, but he didn't care. He was sick and tired of the man interfering with matters of his life that should be left alone; he was sick of having decisions made for him and being manipulated into doing whatever Dumbledore wished. "I will not be forced into the role of the hardhearted father! Why is it that you insist on your continuation of meddling with affairs which don't concern you?"

"As the only adult here who has any concern for the boy," Dumbledore said, the heat rising with every word as he slowly moved towards the younger man, "as the only adult who takes the role of guardian to him, the way he is treated and his well-being is an affair that concerns me. Maybe it should be your choice whether or not he's told, but unless I can trust that you will handle this decision with responsibility, it is my job to interfere. If I cannot be guaranteed that while he remains unknowing you will treat him no worse than you had prior to this discovery—"

"Fine," Severus said, cutting him off. "Then I'll treat him as I always have. But if you still wish to pride yourself on your extensive wisdom, say nothing to him. I, unlike the rest of the Wizarding world, will have no pity for him, and if you think your interference will prompt me to cultivate any sort of relationship, you are sadly mistaken."

"I take it, then, that you really plan not to tell him," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding repressed, as though he were attempting with acute difficulty to conceal his frustration. "Will you really be so ignorant as to think he'll never find out? Is your keeping this from him any different from the way I kept it from you? You admonished me saying, 'it wasn't your choice to make, I had a right to know, he had a right to know' and then you turn around and still deny him that right? You'll storm around this castle, fuming about the arrogance of your late schoolmates of almost twenty years, and yet you are so confident in your—"

"I'm confident?" Severus snarled, a furious scowl twisting his face. "Look at you! You still think you acted for the best- that you are- acting for the best! You can't even bring yourself to recognize the fact that just because you are the oldest person in every room, it doesn't make you the wisest! Clearly, you, of all people, are in no position to rebuke me for holding on to things, as you can't even let go of the reality that you were wrong. Yes, Dumbledore, that's right. You were wrong. Does it pain you to hear that? Because I know you don't hear it very often—"

"Silence!" Dumbledore commanded, his hand positioned threateningly near his robe pockets, which Severus knew contained his wand. "We are not here to talk about my faults. We are here to talk about Harry. Have you thought nothing of the things I said to you? Severus, he needs someone there, and you obviously do too—"

"Obviously?" Severus exclaimed. "What are you—?"

"You've never been the same since Lily," Dumbledore said, sympathy now annoyingly flitting into his calm and powerful tones. "I would have thought this might shed some light on your dark world, I thought you might be pleased to know that she never betrayed you, and that there was someone there for you. Answer me honestly. Do you still view her the same way? Have your thoughts not changed?"

"They have," Severus admitted grudgingly, glaring at the Headmaster.

"Then why not tell the boy? Perhaps it will be difficult, but I cannot understand why anyone would choose to live life alone- I know he wouldn't."

"Oh, come now, Dumbledore," Severus said contemptuously. "I think we both know that would be an unwise choice on my part. The boy hates me, and likewise. He prides himself on being the star Gryffindor, son of James Potter. What would he say if he found out he had me as a father instead?"

Severus said this as though he were disgusted with both the boy and himself, but Dumbledore could still hear some regret hidden behind the malice in his tone. It seemed as though Severus didn't realize his distress over each point until he himself had voiced it.

"No," Severus went on spitefully, "I think we both know it is better that he suffer under the delusion that he's the savior to the world, born to perfect parents. At least I won't need to have anything to do with him. Why make either one of us suffer needlessly?"

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, his fury at the man already ebbing away. "Severus, you've been suffering for so long, I don't doubt you're afraid to live a life without it- I don't wonder you can't imagine living without the pain," He paused. "But I think you underestimate him," He said quietly.

"And I think," Severus said, crossing his arms and intensifying his glare, "That you make too many assumptions." He hated when Dumbledore began analyzing him, as though he needed someone else to remind him of his emotions, just in order to understand himself.

Dumbledore stood silent for a moment, watching him. Severus couldn't really tell what he was thinking, but he wished the man would say something. The distant, anguished look in his eyes was disconcerting; it brought to life the reality of the damage that had been done to their relationship. Dumbledore was gazing at him with the look of a father who had lost a son and knew he couldn't repair what had been so deeply wounded, and Severus quelled under his gaze as the son who could not return, but could not retaliate.

"You really have no intention of building any kind of relationship with him, even if I tell him?" Dumbledore finally asked in extreme despondence.

"None," Severus said firmly. Part of him wondered why they kept coming back to this point; did the headmaster think if he asked the question enough times, the answer would eventually change?

"Then I will find someone who will," Dumbledore said a moment later, his tone set in an air of finality.

"What does that mean?" Severus inquired softly, eyebrow raised in suspicion. What was Dumbledore getting at?

"Remus Lupin will have returned from his order duty last night, and it will be another few weeks before he must transform again," Dumbledore said, maintaining an even tone and looking casually off to the side. He knew it would be too much for the Potions Master to bear, having a former marauder once again fill his rightful position as father figure and confidant to Harry. Even if it didn't spark some paternal flame, it would at least set the groundwork for such. Jealousy and resentment were two sentiments Severus, even as disciplined as he was, could not resist reacting to, and Dumbledore knew this. "I'll send Harry to stay with him for a week, and though Moody already agreed to fill this year's Defense against the Dark Arts position, perhaps Lupin could fill in instead."

As much as Severus disliked having Mad-Eye Moody hovering around the castle, the idea of having Lupin there was far worse. He couldn't decide quite how to react; should he submit to Dumbledore's requests, should he swallow his pride and ask him not to hire Lupin, or should he feign indifference to the notion, in hopes that the headmaster had no real intentions of carrying through with this subtle threat?

No, as quickly as the notion of acceptance came, it left. Severus couldn't stand even the thought of the man, as appallingly tolerant and friendly as he was, drifting about the castle, and causing Severus more aggravation than even an entire class of first years at the start of term with his jovial and disgustingly imperturbable attitude.

"Are you doing this as some part of your elaborate scheme of forcing me into 'bonding' with our oh-so-troubled boy wonder, hmm, Dumbledore?" Severus scoffed derisively, "again, trying to manipulate me into—"

"I'm doing this for Harry," Dumbledore said, so convincingly that it startled Severus, who dropped his contemptuous expression of scorn, slowly replacing it with a look of resentfulness.

Severus looked him over very carefully, and realized just how serious the man was. If he didn't say something- if he didn't at least partially comply, he was going to be doomed to another year of misery. Damn the man, he'd known exactly how to get to Severus. But then, if Dumbledore was going to insist on being as cunning as necessary to get what he wanted, then Severus could just as easily match him. He was, after all, a Slytherin.

"Fine," Severus said compliantly, dropping his arms to his sides in assent. "I make no promises, but if you'll," He paused and raised his eyes to the ceiling, "refrain from hiring that insufferable werewolf," he unclenched his teeth, "then, I will at least consider speaking with the boy about our- situation."

Perfect. Dumbledore could hardly help feeling pleased with himself, and it took all the self-control in the world for him to withhold a heaving sigh of relief at these words. "Do you mean that Severus?" he asked seriously, "Will you really consider it?"

"But I make no promises," Severus said, raising his eyebrows as if to reinforce this statement.

"As long as you will at least contemplate it," Dumbledore said, slightly begrudged by Severus' unwillingness to concede, "That is fine."

There was a short pause, and then Dumbledore started slowly, "You know how important these lessons are for him."

"Yes, I do," Severus said, turning and heading towards his shelves, desperate to occupy himself with something other than Dumbledore's words. "I am, after all, the one who brings you the information that would call attention to this."

"So will you please make some time for a lesson today?" Dumbledore implored him wearily, hoping there wasn't another argument coming.

"Fine, fine," Severus snapped, jerking his head irritably but still maintaining his attention on the items of his shelves. "Send him down."

Dumbledore nodded graciously. "Thank you, Severus."

Severus stared at the floor until Dumbledore had left, and after a moment, he made his way over to his desk and sat down. He allowed his head to sink into his hands; the emotional stress of these past few days had been taxing, and to add to that stress, there was now much pressure on him to speak with Harry about this situation.

He hadn't realized until the moment the words had left his mouth that his promise to Dumbledore now bound him to the contemplation of his decision. He hadn't intended there to be any truth to what he'd told Dumbledore, but now Severus found that with the weight of this issue being placed on him, he couldn't avoid thinking about it. He'd been so upset when Dumbledore had told him that he'd killed his own child, that he had no one because of his violent temper. After he'd learned the truth, he'd even entertained the thought of playing father to Harry, but then he'd realized; even if he could allow himself to open up that part of him which he'd hidden for so many years, even if he could somehow move past his previous conceptions about the boy, there was no guaranteeing Harry would. Considering the way Severus had treated him for so long, it was nearly impossible that the boy would be able to move past every loathsome feeling he'd developed over the years.

Now, Severus found that he was in fact mulling over the very subject he'd misleadingly promised he would. But still, his standpoint remained the same; it seemed easiest to forget about the notion. There could never be anything between the two of them other than a hateful teacher to student relationship; there were too many things standing in the way. Severus could easily ignore the fact that Harry was his son, even if he couldn't forget it, and so for both their sakes, he would. After all, for years, he'd hidden the fact that he still desperately longed to have his wife back; he'd never admitted that to anyone, even himself.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 17

The Tendencies of a Father

xxx

Harry walked quickly, trying to put as much distance between himself and Snape's office as possible. He wasn't sure if he'd just made the right choice, but he was sure that he couldn't have stood another second in the middle of that intense argument.

Oddly enough, despite Snape's unremitting malevolence towards him, it was Dumbledore whom Harry was most upset with. Agreeably, Snape shouldn't have faced him with the debate of which adult to listen to, but at least he hadn't forced him into such an unnerving situation. Dumbledore had given him the more difficult choice of which adult to side with. Harry had been placed in the middle of a dispute, uninvited and undecided on his partiality. Dumbledore had made it seem as though Harry was siding with him, but in reality, he hadn't been happy with either one of the men. Everything Dumbledore had said to Snape was fully called for, but he didn't have to make it a public affair involving all three of them. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Snape and his repressed rage built up from feeling as though Harry and the headmaster had teamed up against him.

It would have been better if he were left alone, but Harry had hardly put two floors between himself and Snape's office when Dumbledore turned up again, looking worn out, but nevertheless, satisfied. As soon as Harry saw him, he froze, put off at the impenitent, cheery look on the old man's face.

"I take it I'm to go back, then?" said Harry flatly as Dumbledore approached, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his tone.

Dumbledore closed his mouth, as he had opened it to speak, and then smiled gently. "Perhaps you shouldn't have given up Divination," he said, eyes twinkling, "is that the inner eye I sense in you?"

If Harry hadn't been annoyed before, he was now. "No," he said in the same flat tone, but with more force behind his voice than he'd had previously, "I don't think that's quite what you're sensing."

Dumbledore's smile faded, and he frowned. "Harry, if I did something to offend you, you might tell me what it is I've done, rather than take exception to me whilst I'm left in the dark."

"You mean you don't know?" Harry asked, now barely managing to keep his volume under control. "Do you think what you just did was any better than Snape? I would have thought you, of all people, would understand my reasons for not wanting to go back there- because I know you didn't buy that bit about needing to do my homework- and still you drag me down to his office and tell him off for what he did in front of me so he'll- what- hate me more?"

"Professor Snape doesn't hate you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Well, he's got a funny way of showing it," Harry said, adjusting his bag, which was starting to feel extremely heavy.

"Look, Harry," said Dumbledore, placing a hand upon his right shoulder, "I know you two haven't fared well in the past, but I think this year—"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't want to listen to you tell me how things could get better, how we just have to set our differences aside. Right now, I don't want to listen to anything, and I'm not going to those lessons, not right now. – Sorry," He added as he turned and headed towards the library, leaving Dumbledore standing bewildered in the middle of the hallway.

No student had ever behaved this way towards Dumbledore, and at this moment, he was at a loss for what to do. He considered going after Harry, but upon consideration, realized this was not the best course of action. Instead, he turned and headed in the direction of the Potions master's office.

Upon entering the already open door, he found Severus seated at his desk, grading the essays that his N.E.W.T students had been sending over the summer. The man looked up at him, a tired and irritable look on his face.

"Yes, headmaster?" He inquired in a low, monotonous voice, which suggested he was very tired of meeting this way.

"You'll be interested to know that you won't be needing to carry through with an Occlumency lesson today," Dumbledore started.

"And why is this?" said Severus, begrudged by the instability of his day's schedule.

"In short," Dumbledore said with a resigned sigh, "Harry made it quite plain to me that he refuses." He was considering explaining further, but thought better of it at the look on Severus' face. It was a disbelieving and dismayed expression, and Dumbledore was curious what words were to follow.

"He refused?" Severus asked in mild astonishment, raising an eyebrow. "What- and you accepted that?"

"As it's me he's upset with," Dumbledore said despondently, "For unrightfully forcing him into a situation he had no desire to be in, I felt it would be best if I left it alone. He won't listen to me right now, and if I am to have him respect me, I believe I'll have to respect the fact that he needs my lack of interference."

"A novel idea," Severus said caustically, leaning forward in his chair. "But he can't be permitted to ignore what he is asked of by those in power over him."

"That is true," Dumbledore said, inclining his head in agreement, and partially to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He was careful to conceal his amusement as he looked back up.

Severus waited for a further response, and when he received none, he pressed, "The boy needs to be dealt with, do you not agree?"

"Maybe," Dumbledore said, "but not by me. As I've said, he's too angry with me, and he'll only hear me with defiance in his mind."

"Children will always be defiant; it is their inherent nature," Severus said cynically, raising an eyebrow. "But if you allow him to behave now with such flagrant disregard for authority, it only gives him incentive to do so in the future."

Severus could not, for the life of him, decipher the reason for the now unavoidable twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as the man looked up at him.

"Why Severus," Dumbledore said in amused disbelief, "I do believe you're beginning to sound like a father."

The disbelieving look upon Severus' face vanished as he realized what the Headmaster was getting at, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Dumbledore gave him a small smile and said, "Good day, Severus."

xxx

Harry's tossed his bag carelessly into the chair next to him as he plopped himself in front of an empty table. The library was completely deserted and if Harry hadn't been in such an irritable mood, he probably would have found himself wishing he had someone else there; an unnerving silence hung in the air and every footstep, every sound, echoed creepily throughout the huge room. However, he now found himself glad for the lack of company.

Once he'd spread out his books across the table, (he did this in case someone happened upon him and asked questions about his purpose there), he set off down the commonly traveled rows of books, his eyes peeled for any literature which might help him solve the mysteries of his latest dreams. The last had been very different from the others. At first, the inexplicable visions had all entailed happy moments between his mother and Snape. Now, however, they'd begun to turn ugly. His thoughts inadvertently drifted back to his previous night's dream.

It had started with Snape at the small, dull Apothecary in Diagon Alley; Harry had been forced to watch in revulsion as his Potions Professor had selected several pickled animals for purchase, and had been forced to wonder what kinds of ingredients he would be required to use in the N.E.W.T. Potions class.

Harry had followed him as he'd left the shop in a rather hurried manner, and this was the first dream in which he'd seen Snape in just as dark and irascible a mood as he always was in at school. Harry had surveyed the scene in curiosity as he'd noticed his mother approaching, and had grown perplexed when Snape took no notice of her as she walked along, shooting him wary glances.

As Harry had lately grown accustomed to the happy dreams involving the two, he had first reasoned with his dream self that Snape was simply too absorbed in the pamphlet on Potions ingredients which he'd picked up at the shop to notice Lily heading straight his way. However, as Snape suddenly seemed to realize he was passing his next destination, he abruptly moved to turn into a small shop on the side of the street and blindly ran straight into Lily, sending her sprawling to the ground.

At first, Snape had looked down in surprise, and something resembling hopefulness had glistened momentarily in her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sor—" He had stopped mid-sentence, and Lily's anticipatory expression had faded into a look of hurt as his lip curled and he dropped the hand he had extended. His cold eyes swept over her, his hard sneer becoming more pronounced. He clearly had only now realized whom he had knocked over.

Lily had hurriedly picked herself up off the ground, leveling him with an equally cold expression as she steadied on her feet. A very strange thing then happened; the words that Snape had been about to utter seemed to die on his lips, and he didn't say a word. Lily seemed to want to say something; her face held the same defiance, but her eyes were soft and pleading. Snape only looked unflinchingly at her for a moment before picking up the bags he'd sent flying to ground and roughly shoving them into her arms.

"You might want to exercise a little more caution," Snape had said icily. "Just because James Potter doesn't mind having your filthy mudblood hands all over him doesn't mean every other man holds you in the same regard."

Snape had then pushed past her; Lily's fierce expression had wavered for a moment, but she'd quickly recovered. Looking around at those onlookers who'd stopped, she'd quickly moved through the crowd, cheeks flushing violently and blinking her eyes furiously.

Harry had woken up that morning with an uneasy feeling resulting from his night's dream. He was becoming more and more curious about the nature of these visions, and had resolved to later check the library.

And so, for this reason, he was choosing to spend his free time researching all that he could about the dream world. These visions were becoming more and more troubling, and while Harry tried to push them to the back of his mind and tell himself that they were simply nightmares brought on from the stress of his past few weeks, he could not ignore the fact that most nightmares don't leave one feeling strangely happy upon awakening the next morning. He couldn't ignore the fact that almost every detailed dream he'd had in the past had been far from pointless, and whether or not these scenes running though his head were based on fact or fiction, he needed to know the reason behind it, and what he could do to stop them.

xxx

Dumbledore departed sooner than Severus could formulate any sort of response, and the normally imperturbable Potions Master found himself somewhat dumbstruck. How dare the Headmaster make such an insinuation? Severus had simply been shocked at the amount of calm Dumbledore had been maintaining after such appalling behavior and at the lenience he was demonstrating in allowing the boy to have his way. What kind of lesson was that? No, he hadn't spoken out of a fatherly desire to correct his son's conduct; he had spoken out of a reproving feeling of disagreement. It was no wonder that Harry was such an insolent child, with the exceptions that were made for him time and time again.

Severus was bothered by the lack of authority being exercised over Potter, after all, it seemed he was in need of strict discipline more than any of the other student at Hogwarts; none of them had intentionally sought out danger, attempting to take every matter into their own hands no matter the consequences. Dumbledore constantly seemed to confuse tolerance of wrong behavior with the giving of more responsibility. He seemed to think that by letting him slide, he was allowing him the space he needed to become more mature. What he didn't realize, in Severus' opinion, was that Harry needed to be treated as an adult as an adult would be treated in identical situations- and adults who had responsible obligations to fill could not simply refuse and be left to it.

The more Severus thought about it, the more firm he became in his former opinion; the boy needed to be dealt with. If no one ever reprimanded him for these childish actions, he would continue to take them… possibly until it was too late. Harry had most of the Wizarding world wrapped around his finger, it was true- but luckily, Severus thought, not everyone.

Had he been less absorbed in his dismay at Harry's appalling behavior, Severus might have realized just how like a parent he was thinking.

xxx

Later that night, Harry was camped out in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, feeling very much like Hermione as he read through the mass of books surrounding him. He'd seated himself on the center of the floor with his best findings sorted into piles; the ones he had not yet gone over were stacked in a shaky pillar next to him, the ones he'd found unhelpful were tossed onto the couch, and the ones which had supplied ample information were marked and spread across the ground, opened to the most useful pages. He was so absorbed in his research, in fact, that he didn't realize Snape had entered the room until the man was standing directly above him, his silhouette casting a dark shadow across the page Harry was so diligently reading.

As unlikely though it would seem, Harry hadn't been startled. He noticed the lack of light bearing illumination to the words his eyes were attempting to scan, and instantly recognized the black boots planted in front of him. He slowly lifted his eyes to Snape's unpleasant face.

Harry felt vaguely annoyed, yet apprehensive, at Snape's presence there. At the risk of giving away what he knew Snape would perceive as fear, he suppressed the urge to swallow the dryness that had formed in his mouth, and somehow, he couldn't decide what to say. He had an idea that any greeting which inquired the reason for his presence would come off as cocky or disrespectful, and as little as he cared for the man's opinion of him, he did care about how it affected his demeanor. If he was, as it appeared, there to chastise Harry, then it seemed inadvisable to further provoke his wrath.

After a moment's debate, Harry settled on mildly saying, "Good evening, Professor," and lifting himself to his feet.

Snape looked around at the mounds of books with a raised eyebrow. "Interesting reading?" he asked dryly, no hint of warmth in his expression or voice. Harry didn't notice his Professor's attention waning to the books in question as he shrugged unceremoniously and stepped sideways, over one of his piles, towards an empty chair. However, when he turned and began to sink into his chair, he froze with sudden anxiety as he saw that Snape was peering interestedly at the literature before him. If his ever-intrusive professor started asking questions on his reasons for reading these books, Harry would either have to tell him the truth or leave him to the conclusion he was inevitably bound to come up with on his own; that Harry was having visions again. Hoping to steer Snape's interest in another direction, Harry unfroze and slowly sank into his chair, watching him carefully as he spoke.

"So, umm, did you want to see me about something?" Harry hoped his voice had concealed his unease, but by the look of Snape's unchanged face, he got the distinct impression that the man knew exactly what this question was intended to do. The feeling of trepidation pitting itself in Harry's stomach grew more intense as his professor didn't answer, but began to more incisively inspect the material, moving aside with his foot book after book and peering down at the subject titles scrawled across the pages.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, not lifting his gaze from the manuscripts, which he was still probing with acute scrutiny. He bent and picked up a particularly hefty and ancient looking volume and continued, his dark eyes glittering with accusation, "What would a sixteen year old boy want with a chapter on "Conceptual Dreams as Alternative or Authentic Reality"?" He looked up from the page to Harry, eyebrows raised in mock speculation. "Curious way to spend a free night… unless," he paused and put his finger to his chin, maintaining his façade of conjecture, "Unless, that boy happened to be plagued by constant visions which sometimes were true and sometimes not, and he wanted to learn to distinguish between the two; then I'd say that makes a lot of sense. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry nodded glumly as he stared at the table in front of him. It was no use to object; Snape was just too quick at comprehension.

"Although I would say it would be much simpler to learn Occlumency, so that this boy would no longer have to bear false visions being planted in his head," Snape continued in the same horrible tone, moving slowly towards Harry, who maintained his gaze with the floor. "But as it is such an uncommon subject to find one adequate to teach, I suppose there would be sufficient reason to search for alternatives. If only," Snape said in piteous tones which didn't match his expression, shaking his head with each syllable and his lip curling disdainfully as he brought himself to a halt directly in front of Harry, forcing him to look up. "…There was someone who could give such instruction."

Harry scowled up at him for a moment before dropping his gaze again. Then, recognizing an opening for a valid point, he said slowly and in a sheer imitation of his professor's tone, "Yes, if only there was someone who could give such instruction and would refrain from throwing this boy from the office, then just maybe it would work."

Their eyes met, and Harry wondered briefly if he'd crossed the line. For a moment, Snape's expression was completely inscrutable, before he decidedly went on.

"You know, Potter," Snape said dangerously, turning and walking around the table as he continued, "Try as I might, I cannot fathom what thoughts must run through your head that give you this tragic hero complex." Reaching the end of the table, he spun around and crossed his arms, staring contemptuously at Harry. "You are offered assistance; your every need is catered to. Anyone and everyone willingly gives up any spare time they have to give you, all so that your life will not be so difficult, so that you won't have to suffer. And still, you do all you can to make it so you must stumble blindly through life, as though you think accepting help will make you weak."

"Wasn't it you who told me that fools who wear their hearts on their sleeves and wallow in sad memories are weak?" Harry demanded forcefully as he stood up, feeling any retorts would seem little more than feeble coming from him while he was sitting in a chair. "Well, I'm not wearing my heart on my sleeve; I'm not going to run to someone every time I've got a problem just so they can coddle me for all my vulnerability and try to protect me. People trying to protect me is how I was lured to the ministry last year, and accepting help only ever put others in danger; I won't let that happen anymore. I've moved past my sad memories. I've decided that I'll focus on what I can do and how to do it instead of worrying about what I can't change; that's what I've done- just what you said. Happy?"

Snape raised his eyebrows in slight incredulity, and then furrowed them again. "Of all the things I've tried to impress upon you," he said slowly, running his finger calculatingly over his lips, "that's the advice you heed?" He lifted his gaze to Harry for a moment, and taking his silence as affirmation, he shook his head. "You misread my implication."

"Then what was your implication?" said Harry challengingly.

"I tried to tell you then exactly what I'm trying to tell you now!" Snape snarled severely. "Somehow, you don't understand that you can't learn everything from yourself, because the tools and knowledge you need to strengthen yourself come from experiences you have yet to face! Part of growing up is learning how to live; this is why those who have lived longer are put in authority over you, to pass down the lessons they have learnt from their mistakes. At the time, I was expressing the necessity that you put aside the thoughts in your head and focus on what needed to be done, I was expressing the necessity that you accept the information being handed to you."

"Maybe what I need to know isn't something that you and Dumbledore can teach me," Harry said quietly, crossing his arms in defiance. He was being forced to reexamine just how influential Snape had been to his behavior the previous year, and again, he found himself bitter towards the man for forcing him to take the actions he had. He had considered every fault of Snape's to Sirius' death except this: that his entire year's treatment had dictated the way Harry had come to react to situations. Perhaps he'd impressed more upon him than either he or Harry had realized.

"And what if it is?" Snape responded sharply. "Do you really want to make that mistake? Do you want to realize with your last gasping breath that you were wrong?" His tone was that of a vehement hiss, but as Harry raised his eyes to the face of the dark man before him, Harry couldn't help noticing that his eyes held none of their usual malice. If anything, it was more of a desperation that suggested just how badly he felt Harry needed to understand his point. Strangely, it made all the difference that he seemed to be saying it more out of care than spite. Instead of the usual anger Harry felt at his words, something like guilt gave him a sharp stab in his chest as his arms dropped to his sides and he stared back.

A strange revelation then occurred to Harry. It was something everyone around him had been trying to say for years, but he understood it now more than ever. Now was the time to be mature; Snape's last sentence had displayed how much bigger this was then a feud between the two of them- this was life and death. Maybe Snape only cared that Harry survived for selfish reasons, but nevertheless, they both held the same desire.

What Harry didn't know, and what Severus Snape had just realized, was that Severus was finding himself horrified at the thought of Harry being killed for reasons which were much more difficult to explain…

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 18

A Time for Tea

xxx

There was a long silence as professor and student each contemplated his own thoughts. Harry could feel the Potion Master's gaze as it settled on him, and despite his apprehension, he met his eyes.

"Is this what you came for?" he asked quietly, wishing Snape would just leave.

There was a short pause.

"No," Severus said a second later, straightening back up. Until this moment, he had lost sight of his reasons for coming. "I came here because the headmaster paid me a visit earlier and explained to me why my afternoon would not be occupied by Occlumency lessons."

Harry's shoulders slumped slightly as he sat back down in his chair. He'd hoped to lead Snape away from the confrontation; it now seemed he'd led him into another one.

"Now, while he seemed to think you were better left on your own," Severus started with a misleadingly light tone, "I highly disagree." And while this was true, and Severus was effectively presenting a front of formidable displeasure, he was having difficulty conjuring up the feelings to match it.

Harry chanced a look at the Potions Master's face and saw with a surge of dissatisfaction that his expression had darkened once again. He dropped his head in defeat, hoping to appease the Professor.

"A teacher, or any of your elders, for that matter," Severus continued, "should never be expected to brook refusal from you. The fact that you think they should deeply aggravates me…"

Severus took pause, expecting a smart retort from the boy in front of him. However, Harry remained quiet, and Severus found himself at a surprising loss for words. He contented himself with crossing his arms and glaring down at him, but something about the way Harry was glaring evasively at the floor, loathing his very presence there, made him feel a little angrier with himself than anything. After all, Harry really only felt this way towards him because Severus had provoked it all these years. Now, with the scary reality in place that this boy, unacquainted his son, might have limited time, he couldn't help but feel slightly less vengeful towards him. He wasn't repentant, no, but he was feeling a bit more generous... even if not by choice.

Harry looked up after a moment and said dully, "Is that all, sir?"

Severus shifted his jaw and considered Harry through narrowed eyes. He greatly disliked the notion of discontinuing his lecture, but his loss for words would prove his persistence in lecturing the boy fruitless.

"Don't," Severus said warningly, raising one long finger to point threateningly at Harry, "let it happen again." He then turned on his heel and swept towards the door, saying over his shoulder, "Be at my office tomorrow, by five o' clock. Don't be late."

xxx

Bright rays of sunshine swept through the windows of Gryffindor tower, streaming across Harry's face and forcing him to consciousness as little pricks of light pried their way into his eyes. With a low groan, he turned over in his bed and lobbed his pillow over his head. He hoped, to no avail, that he might fall back to sleep, for if he woke up, it only meant hours of endless research for the second day in a row, and that he wasn't looking forward to.

Harry finally gave up on his quest for sleep after one extremely restless hour, which he'd spent tossing and turning in his bed in useless attempt to find repose. He could already feel the heat of the day, and dug through his trunk to find the coolest clothing he had brought. After dressing, he padded lightly down the coiled stairs to the common room. He saw with some satisfaction that his books were still strewn across the room; he had worried the house elves might have tidied up and lost his places in the marked chapters.

Thinking he would return to his reading later, Harry headed through the portrait hole and towards the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping he hadn't slept too late. He was starting to enjoy the peacefulness of the castle now; it was lovely to roam the halls early in the day without interruption. It gave him a lot of time to think, a lot of room for clarity, which was a good thing since his life was often far too complicated for his liking.

Harry passed by the classroom in the entrance hall that had been transformed earlier in the previous year to suit Firenze, the new divination teacher. Firenze was a centaur who had been banned from the forest by his herd when he had agreed to help Dumbledore and filled the position that Professor Trelawney had left vacant when sacked by Dolores Umbridge. It had been a huge scene, Harry remembered, leaving Trelawney in tears upon her suitcases as the short, squat, and toad-like ministry official-turned-professor had attempted to have her removed from the castle. Dumbledore had supplied a new teacher before another ministry-ordered teacher had been able to fill the spot, and had ensured Trelawney a home within Hogwarts walls. Harry could still remember Umbridge's veiled rage at this, especially at the fact that a half-breed was the only thing standing in the way of extra support for her and her plans at taking over the school. Oh, how well those worked out, Harry thought with a smirk.

Harry vaguely began to wonder what had become of Umbridge before he was struck by a sudden thought; Firenze was a more than competent divination teacher, and who better to ask about dreams? Turning around, Harry ventured hopefully into the open door of the classroom, and was pleased to find Firenze there, writing what looked like a letter.

He looked up calmly, seemingly having already guessed who had just entered the room.

"Harry Potter," Firenze acknowledged, giving Harry a courteous nod before looking back down.

"Hello, Firenze," Harry said pleasantly, watching him with mild interest. "Are you writing a letter?" He had never really thought of centaurs as using the post; they seemed above such ordinary means of communication.

Firenze nodded, still writing and allowing his gaze to remain focused on the parchment. "That I am," he said, "Professor Trelawney wishes to remain in her tower, and I have a difficult time climbing up there. We are coordinating lesson plans through Dumbledore."

"Oh," Harry murmured reminiscently. He remembered hearing something the previous year about the two teaching together and was quite familiar with Trelawney's odd inclinations. It hardly surprised him that she was now refusing to leave her tower.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Potter?" Firenze asked, looking up at Harry.

Snapping back from his thoughts and meeting Firenze's eyes, Harry remembered his reason for being there and nodded. "Yes, actually," he faltered a moment, "er- or, I hope you can. You know a lot about things like dreams and predictions and everything, don't you?"

"Predictions are never reliable," Firenze said steadily, "nor are many forms of dreams."

"Well," Harry said distractedly, thinking he should have been more prepared for such vagueness. "If I were to ask you about the nature of some dreams I've been having, would you be able to tell me about them?"

"One can never tell until the dreams are described to him." Firenze said wisely, moving towards Harry and stopping a short distance in front of him. "But if you were to relate these dreams to me in detail, I might."

"Right," Harry said quietly, flushing slightly and averting his eyes to the ground. "But please, don't tell anyone?"

Firenze nodded compliantly. "Not unless necessary."

Harry was annoyed with this answer, but went on anyways. The curiosity was killing him, and he was positive that another hour in front of an open book would drive him mad.

"Well, alright," Harry started somewhat awkwardly, sitting down on the soft green earth that was the classroom floor. He wasn't quite sure how to explain what had been happening; he couldn't think of a fitting introduction to the story behind his current inquisition. It seemed simplest to cut to the point. "You see, the day I was rescued from Voldemort-" Harry looked up briefly and was glad to see that Firenze had not flinched at the sound of the name. "-I almost died. But for some reason, Snape grabbed my hand, like it would keep me here- and we shared some sort of, umm, connection, you could say."

Harry looked up again to see if Firenze was following, and at his small nod, he continued. "Since then, I've been having these dreams- and they- they all involve him and my mother. It's usually just little scenes between the two, simple conversations or something, but they always seem like they're… a little more than friends. Then, the other night, I had this really strange one where they ran into each other at Diagon Alley, and Snape said a few nasty things to her, and then they just rushed away from each other. I don't get it, and I'm being driven out of my mind. I've researched all sorts of texts on dreams, but it's all so indefinable, I mean, the only tell-tale sign for most of them is whether or not you're asleep-"

Firenze held up a hand, signaling for Harry to fall silent. "Mr. Potter," he started indistinctly, turning and moving towards the window, gazing out towards the lake. "You are aware of the possibility that some dreams are prophetical- tell of the future, correct?"

Harry bit back the urge to say he knew what prophetical meant and nodded, which Firenze must have guessed as he continued without a verbal response.

"Are you aware of the theory that there are dreams which may tell of the past?"

Harry's mouth opened slightly in confusion as he sputtered in response. "Wha- I- well, I'd read that, but I-" he paused. "how?"

"Unfortunately," Firenze said, turning away from the window, "one can hardly ever tell if that is the case. Dreams, as all aspects of divination, are very unreliable. However, the fates often use them as a way of prodding us in the right direction."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And what direction would that be?"

"It is difficult to say," said Firenze, gazing upward. "But dreams of the conceptual nature are rarely insignificant. Perhaps you should be spending less time attempting to understand the logical meaning of them, and more to understand the intended purpose for them."

"But," Harry said faintly, still at a loss for words. Was Firenze saying these dreams could be some sort of recollection from the past? That they could be real? "I don't understand."

"Perhaps you are not meant to," said Firenze, "yet."

"But can't you-"

"Our kind do not serve as seers. If the fates inform us of certain events, it is not so that we will reveal them, for if that were the intention of our knowledge, everyone would have it." Firenze turned and gave Harry a distant smile. "In time, Mr. Potter. In time."

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment before rising to his feet. "Right," he said dazedly, stepping towards the door, "well, thanks."

Firenze nodded his welcome and Harry stepped out into the corridor.

Harry had an idea that he was leaving the room in a much more befuddled state than he had entered it with. Too weary to think about Firenze's cryptic words, he tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had arisen in his chest and went into the Great Hall for some breakfast, glad to find that it was empty of people, but not food.

xxx

If there was one part of the year which Severus loathed above all the rest, it was the two-week period in which the staff of Hogwarts prepared for the start of term. The Headmaster was adamant about multiple staff meetings, finalizing lesson plans, and reminding each teacher, (especially Severus) of what it was he or she needed to take the time to concentrate on. McGonagall was often spoken to about her impatience and constant overworking- Hagrid, his need for caution- and Severus was repeatedly told, (in certain words) to be nice. This bothered him greatly- but often, he let it go, as did the rest of the teachers. This year, however, he'd bitten back at Dumbledore's subtle comments, and now the air between them was very tense as they moved on to lesson plans.

Both were very relieved when McGonagall came to the open door and informed them that Firenze was waiting at the bottom of the staircase to speak to them. Dumbledore made a quiet comment about not expecting him until later, and the two men made their way down to the main floor, where the fair-haired centaur was waiting patiently for them.

"Firenze," Dumbledore said graciously, stepping first off the bottom stair and giving him a nod of greeting.

Firenze returned the nod to both Dumbledore and Severus, saying, "Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape." He paused and discretely glanced around before continuing to the nature of his business.

"Young Mr. Potter was down to see me today," Firenze started purposefully, immediately gaining the two Professors' full attentiveness; Dumbledore because of his ever-present concern for the boy, and Severus because of his alarm that Firenze would presume to involve him. "He has been having dreams."

"With Voldemort?" Dumbledore inquired immediately, looking as though an affirmation would send him bolting straight to Harry.

"No doubt because of his refusal to cooperate," Severus commented sardonically, crossing his arms.

Firenze looked in placid interest between the two, seeming unsurprised yet fascinated with their opposing reactions. "Neither," he responded.

"I am not unaware of the recent discoveries about the child," Firenze went on assiduously. "I was, until now, unsure what course was meant to be followed. It seems apparent, however, that he is intended to learn of his true identity and only you can control how."

Severus was eyeing him askance, arms still crossed and brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"I mean," Said Firenze a little more compellingly, "that these dreams have all been recounting a history between you and his mother, a history which he is finding very suspicious." Severus paled considerably at this, and though he had remained unchanged in every other way, his face denoted sudden and sickened anxiety. "He's been relentless in discovering the reason behind them, and as they are being shown to him for a reason, likelihood would dictate that he will eventually discover the meaning of them. All it would take would be for him to find the right book."

Severus allowed his widened eyes to linger on the centaur in front of him for a moment, and he then lowered them to the ground in a fixed stare. He hardly dared to glance at the Headmaster as he felt him shift at his side.

"You are sure of this?" he heard Dumbledore say gravely.

"Positive," Firenze said, with more confidence than Severus would have liked. "I promised I would not tell anyone unless necessary, but in this situation—"

"No, you were right to tell us. Thank you, Firenze," Dumbledore said.

Severus could feel the old man's fierce gaze turn upon him as Firenze gave them one last nod, turning and heading in the opposite direction, the clacking of his hooves echoing loudly throughout the silent corridor as he went.

Severus speechlessly turned towards Dumbledore, slowly bringing his eyes up to the man's face. He saw in an instant that the man looked angry and reproving rather than pleading and sympathetic as he would have expected- strangely, it made Severus feel more tolerant towards him.

"Well?" Dumbledore said flatly, his face stricken. He had clearly figured out, some time ago, that Severus had never had any real intention of telling Harry. It had probably been during their argument five minutes previous. "What do you plan to do now?"

Severus looked away, staring down the long corridor, and inhaled deeply. His shock was wearing off, and he found himself filled with dread at the thought of the deliberation he would now have to face. "I think," he said unevenly, "that I will go have a very long cup of tea." At Dumbledore's incredulous look, he added as he brushed past, "to mull over."

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 19

So from the Delves of a Troubled Mind

xxx

Severus' cup of tea had not had quite the effect he'd hoped for. Far from calming him, it had, for some strange reason, reminded him of how he'd come to this situation. He could still remember the look of horror on Lily's face when his sleeve had fallen back, revealing the mark, freshly inscribed and burning black against his pale skin.

Now he was imagining a similar expression staring back at him, with those same hauntingly green eyes screaming denial, in hope that the refusal to believe was not in vain. He could already envision the infuriated teen accusing him of being a liar, or spitting that he could never earn the place of a father in his life. He could already hear Dumbledore admonishing him for going about it the wrong way, for waiting far too long. He could already feel himself being torn again as he felt a pitiful sense of rejection; he could already feel anger at at allowing himself to be so vulnerable, so weak.

Now that he was honestly considering telling Harry, he couldn't help but think about how much this was going to cost him. He'd spent years upon years burying these emotions, and now he was laying all that discipline on the line simply so that he could keep the boy he'd hated, and not even a month earlier, from finding out in a more painful way.

Why? He had to ask himself, as he rubbed his throbbing forehead ineffectually. Why does this suddenly matter now? What am I trying to save him from, and what has changed that makes me care? Perhaps it was the fact that before, he could have easily kept this secret and damaged no one apart from himself. In fact, part of his reasoning to Dumbledore had been that the news would only cause the boy to suffer more. Now, however, it had been made clear that Harry was going to find out no matter how Severus attempted to hinder him, and if that was the case, then Severus decided he would rather be viewed as the bearer of bad news than the source of its worsening.

A title suddenly popped into his mind, "Psychology for the Burdened; How to be the Bearer of Bad News."

…Had the Headmaster planned this all along? Had he purposely led Severus to this state of emotional collapse, knowing it would take exactly that sort of breakdown to open him up to this possibility? No- as meddlesome as Dumbledore was, he would not have used such destruction for the mere purpose of obtaining the outcome he desired. In all honesty, that was probably more of Severus' style. The most noble thing about Dumbledore, and perhaps the only thing Severus trusted him on anymore, was the fact that he had great power, and though he knew how to wield every aspect of it to his advantage, he would never do so.

In normal circumstances, Severus wouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the notion that Dumbledore had been plotting against him. In fact, normal circumstances would have had him marching up to the Headmaster's office with accusations and insults at the ready, possibly just for the sake of upsetting him. Tonight, however, he found that his mind kept wandering back to the weighty issue at hand.

It had to be done; Severus would tell Harry, there was nothing else for it. The only question was when, and how. How would he even begin to handle this? Could he possibly play father to the boy, at any point in his life? Could he see him as his and Lily's son, rather than as an exact replica of James Potter?

There was a knock at the door; Severus' head snapped up and he stared at the closed entry to the corridor, suddenly remembering the Occlumency lessons he'd ordered the boy to attend. He could hardly back out again—but this was no time for any of the discussion he had in mind to take place. It was hard enough getting the boy to concentrate with a regular state of affairs in place; Severus could not imagine trying to force his mind into submission after giving him this news. These lessons were crucial, so everything else would have to be saved for later. With great effort, Severus cleared his mind and his expression.

"Come in," Severus breathed grimly as the door opened with a wave of his wand.

Harry stepped sullenly into the office and closed the door behind him. He walked slowly across the office, seemingly stalling for time, and, as Severus observed uneasily, he seemed to be evaluating Severus closely as he did so. Could the boy sense his anxiety, Severus wondered? His eyes narrowed into a glare, an automatic defense; he would treat the boy no differently than usual. He could not allow him to suspect anything was out of order.

From the moment he entered the office, Harry could see that Snape was in an agitated state. He walked slowly to the chair in front of his desk, searching his Professor's face for some sign of what was to come, but he was met only with his standard glare. His hands, however, had a slight tremor as he shuffled the papers aimlessly on his desk and he was sitting abnormally stiff in his chair. Unusual, Harry observed. What had so perturbed his normally calm Professor?

"Sit," said Severus, pointing at the chair in front of his desk. Harry did.

Heavy tension hung between professor and student as both sat silently, Severus steadily avoiding his gaze. Looking down, he realized he had been moving papers around his desk at random; to give the appearance of having done so with purpose, he then shuffled them into one pile and began quickly sorting through them. To his chagrin, Severus had to admit he was having trouble calming his nerves. For Merlin's sake, thought Severus, he had faced the Dark Lord with greater ease than this; Potter should be no more difficult!

Harry waited quietly for Snape to finish sorting his paperwork, trying to avert his eyes, though they kept traveling back to Snape's face seemingly of their own accord. He wondered, briefly, what he had been doing prior to their appointment that had him so unsettled. Had he just returned from a meeting with Voldemort? Harry winced visibly at the thought, thinking of the way he had seen Voldemort treat other followers who had failed him in the past. He remembered, with a pang of guilt, that Snape had suffered for his decision to save Harry, and the thought came to mind that perhaps part of Snape's behavior was owed to the fact that he blamed Harry for the entire ordeal.

Any sympathy felt by Harry, however, quickly dissipated when he realized with a stab of horror that Snape was now closely scrutinizing a paper that read "Class List: Adv. Potions, 6th year" across the top." He went rigid in his chair as he watched Snape's cold eyes flicking from name to name on the list. Harry tensed every time Snape visibly reacted to a name, cocking a doubtful eyebrow, shaking his head, or muttering under his breath. Harry knew for a fact, however, that Snape had reached his name when his narrowed eyes shot wide open and flew suddenly up to Harry. Unconsciously, Harry pressed himself hard against the back of his chair as though to sink through it and out of sight, but he had nowhere to go. A long moment of silence followed, but Harry maintained unwavering eye contact with the Potions master. He hadn't done anything wrong and he refused to behave as though he had.

"How do you explain this?" Severus said at last, brandishing the list at him.

Harry shrugged in an unabashed way, crossing his arms and casting his eyes off to the side. He couldn't explain it, really- he had taken the test and received his results. He decided not to mention Hermione's suspicions that they had been fudged. Snape would have no choice but to accept him into the class.

Severus impatiently smacked the list back down on his desk, looking disgruntled. "Have you lost the ability to speak?" he inquired disdainfully.

Harry unaffectedly returned his gaze to the Potion Master's sharply featured face, and said levelly, "I just thought you'd want to get on with the lesson, sir."

"Not particularly," Severus sneered, looking him over in distaste. "What I'm interested in," he said, lowering his voice, "Is how you managed to become eligible for my N.E.W.T. course. You can't have achieved an Outstanding on the exam, the way you perform in class."

"I did, though," Harry said smoothly, now realizing he could draw thorough enjoyment from Snape's bafflement.

"Let me rephrase that," Severus said tersely. "You can't have earned an Outstanding on the exam. Pardon the confusion."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, forcing his voice under control as he leaned forward in his chair. "Because I didn't cheat, if that's what you mean. You can't cheat on those things."

"No, Potter," Severus said, narrowing his eyes and resting his arms over his chest. "I don't think you've got the brains to cheat. You'd have to be very clever to pull one over on the professors running the O.W.L.s, and as we've covered before, you lack the required subtlety to do so smoothly. However, you do have a very high advantage over the other students, being that the Ministry has some, ah, misguided treatment to make up for. All you'd have to do was put in a simple request… "

"But I didn't!" Harry protested defensively. "I've not had any contact with the ministry- after last year, you're crazy if you think I would ask them for anything."

"Perhaps we'll see," Severus said, pulling out his wand and making a show of twiddling it between his fingers. "But first-" He leaned in and looked very darkly at Harry, "I think we should discuss the circumstances of these lessons."

Harry scowled and crossed his arms, imagining hexing Snape's overlarge nose right off his ugly face, but said nothing.

"You will, under no circumstances, invade or exploit my memories again," Severus said threateningly, and Harry scowled.

"Well, I can't always help that!" Harry argued.

"Intentionally, then," Severus said pointedly, maintaining his irritatingly placid tones. "You will still refer to this as remedial potions, and—"

"But professor, if I'm in the N.E.W.T. potions-"

"Don't interrupt me Potter," Severus warned. "And this time, you will put in effort. That is an order. You will practice. I will not have my time wasted, and I will not stand by and watch the Order fall to pieces because you won't put in the effort in to keep the Dark Lord out of your mind. I've worked too hard and too long to see him win because the boy who's supposed to bring his defeat had Quidditch practice. Is that understood?"

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Snape made it seem as though Harry couldn't care less about the Order, as if he were too selfish to care. Voldemort had killed his parents, his godfather, his friend… he'd robbed from him every happy moment he should have had in his childhood, and was now stealing all the good ones he was supposed to be having at Hogwarts. Voldemort was the reason Harry was cooped up in this stupid office with Snape lecturing him. Even the that, in and of itself, was enough to make him care about his defeat.

"I said, is that understood, Potter?" Severus repeated in a raised voice, snapping Harry to attention.

"Yeah," Harry said tightly, resisting the urge to argue with the man when it surely would make no difference.

"Yes, sir," Severus hissed.

"Fine," Harry ground out. "Shall we get on with it, then, sir?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Clearly, there is more that needs to be covered."

"What?" Harry said exasperatedly, unable to stop himself rolling his eyes. "I understand, alright? I'll show up, I'll stay out of your pensieve, and I'll practice. What more do you want?"

"Respect, Potter," Severus said, tracing the outline of his thin mouth with the tip of his finger. "You will give it to me, as I am rightfully owed. Difficult though it may be for you, it should have prevented all the problems you've previously caused."

All the problems he'd caused? What about the problems Snape had caused?

"…If you respected my time, you would have practiced,"

Harry clenched his fists and gritted his teeth inside his mouth, trying his hardest to hold back the stream of retorts threatening to flow from his pursed lips.

"…If you had respected my privacy, we would have continued these lessons,"

Harry continued to try and block him out. His chest was heaving, his face growing hot as he listened to Snape continue his unjust lecture.

"…If you respected the Order—"

That was it. Harry had had enough. He could no longer stop himself from speaking.

"If you respected the Order, you wouldn't have thrown me out!" The words had come very quickly, bursting from his mouth like water through a dam.

There was an intense feeling of foreboding hanging in the silence of the room as Snape stood up, glaring down at Harry menacingly. "Do not raise your voice to me," He hissed softly. "You deserved to be thrown out, you deserved a lot worse."

"Well, you know what I think?" Harry asked in challenge, he too rising to his feet. "I think you were just waiting for an opportunity to throw me out! I find it odd that you waited until Dumbledore had left before doing it! And I think you might have been glad, even, that he had left—"

Oh, there's the Potter I know so well, Severus thought triumphantly to himself as he swooped around the desk, bearing down on Harry.

"Do not ever," he snarled through clenched teeth, "suggest such a thing again, or you will be very sorry indeed. Whatever transpires between the headmaster and I has nothing to do with you. I know from past experience that you pride yourself in your little detective skills, but do not make the mistake of concerning yourself with matters which involve me. The headmaster may see your prying ways as noble, or brought about by innocent curiosity, but I, Potter, can see straight through the supposed heroism that you so valiantly flaunt every day, using it as an excuse to break every rule that's ever been laid down in this school. I will make no excuses for your behavior, do not make the mistake of thinking I will."

"You're hurting me," Harry said through gritted teeth, and Severus looked down to realize he was grasping the boy's arm rather tightly. Severus glared at him for a moment before angrily thrusting him towards the center of the room and moving his desk back.

"I'm counting to five," He said, turning to Harry. He raised his wand. "Then the lesson commences."

Harry regained his balance and spun around to stare at him in alarm. "Five sec-!" he began to exclaim, but too late.

"Legilimens!"

Harry barely braced in time; the spell hit instantly and a torrent of images surged through his brain.

He was sitting in the bedroom window of the Dursleys' house… He was gazing at Ginny Weasley, crumpled in a heap in the Chamber of Secrets...

In the back of his mind, a voice told him to try and fight, but Snape pursued harder.

Harry was refusing to take the Triwizard cup… he was watching Wormtail cut off his hand, tied to a headstone...

Snape was accessing his most painful memories, but still a voice objected.

No... No...

A swell of emotion suddenly replaced the flashing images: anger, intense anger. Instead of flashing images, he saw Snape's face through a sort of red-tinged haze. He felt a strong push inward, further into his brain, but his rage surged, pulsed, and with a blinding flash of light seemed to to propel Snape backwards.

Everything went dark.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was lying on the floor of Snape's office and staring up at the man who was peering down at him. Harry imagined he had sort of a look of concern on his face, but as soon as he blinked it had been replaced with a sneer.

"Better, Potter, but not quite there yet."

"Not quite there yet?" Harry objected, now pushing himself to sit. "I pushed you out!"

The truth was that since Sirius' death, Harry had been working harder to clear his mind every night before bed; though he didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of knowing he had done so, he wanted recognition for the improvement he'd made.

"You did," Severus acknowledged with a stiff nod, "but not without giving me a clear view of your exact emotions. An accomplished Occlumens would have erected the wall before I could access memories that caused such feelings. Suppose I were to utter a lie in the Dark Lord's presence and he sensed my anxiety? It is not enough to push one out- you must clear your mind!"

"If you would just give me time before we started-"

"Time? Time, you need?" Severus scoffed, stepping around him. He extended a hand and pulled Harry to his feet. "Alright then, Potter. We'll see if time can save you. Tell me when you're ready."

And Snape flicked his wand to bring his chair to the center of the room, where he gracefully sat down and bent one leg over the other. For a few moments he watched Harry with a look of mocking expectancy.

"Well I can't do it with you staring at me!" Harry objected.

"Then by all means, Potter, close your eyes," Severus replied smoothly, "but I'm not going to turn around and face the wall, that's just ridiculous. I'm waiting for you to prepare yourself, so kindly get on with it."

"Fine," Harry growled, and he did, in fact, close his eyes.

After what seemed like a long time, but in reality was likely only a few minutes, Harry opened his eyes again looking calmer. "Okay," he said with a sense of resolve, "I'm ready."

"Outstanding," said Severus, enunciating every syllable, as he stood and set his chair aside. He turned back to Harry, raised his wand, and shouted, "Now- Legilimens!"

Harry was ready this time, but it wasn't enough. For the first few seconds, Harry felt an intense pressure against his blank mind. Then, shadowy images started to flash in his peripheral vision, indistinct shapes- it were as though Snape were running down the hallways of his mind, but was unable to open doors to any of the rooms. It wasn't long, however, before he had found the unlocked door...

Harry was in a dark room of revolving doors, his friends at his side... Sirius was shouting, "Is that the best you can do?"... Bellatrix Lestrange was raising her wand...

"NO!" Harry heard himself roar, and then it happened in an instant; one moment he was trying to force Snape out, and the next, fragments of memories not his own flashed before his eyes. He had forced through to Snape's mind; he hadn't intended to, yet he had.

A small, dark haired boy was pushing his way onto the Hogwarts Express... A red-haired girl was smiling and inviting him into her compartment... Two boys inside shifted their trunks to the seats next to them and said they were taken...

Harry knew he should stop, withdraw somehow, but the images were coming so fast. Then, he saw a flash of his mother's face and he pursued the image on an impulse.

A younger Snape was walking with his Mother, hand-in-hand, down Diagon Alley... Snape was shouting at her, pushing her away... Dumbledore was speaking with Lily, who tearfully told him, "You can never tell Severus..."

What, what could Dumbledore never tell Severus? Harry's mind seemed to scream the question, and Snape's responded in return.

"If the boy I've known for the past five years is the boy who's supposed to be my son," Snape was saying over the Headmaster, "then I don't know if I want to be his father..."

Like a pail of cold water, the answer to his question shocked him back to reality and he fell hard to the ground. He looked up at Snape, and at his expression of horror, knew at once that what he'd seen had been real. All in a moment, Harry understood.

All of the dreams he'd had, the connection they'd shared, the way Snape had been alternating between uncharacteristic concern and unparamounted disdain... even the Headmaster's attempts to force them together. It all came down to this one thing. As suddenly as the vision had entered his mind came an understanding of what it meant… what it was connected to. It all made sense now; he understood.

Harry and Severus stood in stunned silence, Harry staring wide-eyed and unfixed as his mind frantically attempted to connect all his scattered thoughts. He knew- the man before him knew… and he wanted nothing to do with it. A mixture of fury and hurt filled Harry's chest; he finally abandoned his aimless stare and lifted his eyes to the man before him.

Snape was leaning on his desk, breathing heavily. "The- hell- Potter," he wheezed.

"What was that?" Harry asked coldly.

Severus froze inwardly; how much had the boy seen? To which memory was he referring? Severus made an active attempt to compose himself, standing up and catching his breath. It took him little more than a moment to construct a response that would give nothing away, for he couldn't risk presuming the worst; there was a slim possibility that Harry was asking about a memory entirely different from the one Severus was so dreading he had witnessed.

"That was called Legilimency, Potter," Severus breathed, endeavoring to sneer despite his distress. "We've been through this enough times that even a boy as thick as you should be able—"

"You know what I'm talking about," Harry said angrily. He couldn't believe Snape was going to attempt to lie. Was he so desperate to keep it a secret? Was he so determined to avoid the burden of having Harry as a son? How long had he known? Rejection and resentment warred for control of the situation inside Harry's mind, and the tirade of accusations he'd been ready to unleash came out in a disbelieving stutter. "What- you- my?"

Severus looked at him for a moment. The boy's topic of inquiry was made obvious by the dejected look of confusion on his face which he was attempting poorly to conceal behind his anger.

So, the boy knew.

Further protest would only add insult, Severus knew. It was cruel to continue the lie when Harry clearly had seen the truth. Severus allowed the hard expression on his face to relent as he admitted in defeat, "I only found out a few days ago, myself."

Harry considered his Professor for a moment. "When?"

"Just after you'd been released from the hospital wing."

Harry dropped his gaze, attempting to hide the pained look he knew had just crossed his face. It didn't matter; he wouldn't have wanted a relationship with this man anyways. All there was between them was intense hatred- but there was no denying that it hurt knowing his true father was alive and wanted nothing to do with him.

But then, who was to say that a biological relationship really earned anyone the title of father? Adopted children still referred to their guardians as "mum" and "dad," because those were the people who took care of them, who loved them, who raised them. The man standing here still hated him despite their relationship, and that certainly didn't make him a father. James had loved Harry as his own; wasn't that enough? He'd even laid down his own life to protect Harry. He'd been the better man than Snape; there was no question about that.

Snape had hated Harry because of who his father was; James had loved him despite it. No- it hardly mattered that his "father" wanted nothing to do with him.

"Well," Harry said abruptly, getting to his feet and gathering his things. He couldn't stay here another minute, and was fairly positive Snape wouldn't much mind if he left. "You'll be really glad to know that I don't want to be your son, either."

"What?" Severus snapped, and instantly regretted his tone. He took a breath, moved to stand between Harry and the door, and tried again, "What do you mean, 'either'?"

Harry rounded on him, chest heaving and face contorted with bitterness. "I saw what you said to Dumbledore, alright? But don't worry about it, I won't be any trouble for you. I'd much rather live with the fact that my father is dead than the fact that he is alive and hates me. Since it's clearly alright with you, we can both just pretend this never happened!" Harry furiously snatched his bag from the nearby chair and made to storm past Snape, refusing to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

Severus' was watching Harry in a sort of shock; he was torn between anger and anguish. He felt horrible that the boy had found this out in such a way, yet on principle he wouldn't stand for this kind of disrespect. He couldn't allow him to leave, not this way; without thinking, he moved in an instant to the door and slammed it shut the before Harry had even succeeded in opening it all the way.

"Let me out!" Harry bellowed, but Severus whipped around and responded:

"Oh, no I won't, Potter! I will not tolerate these temper-tantrums! You will take a seat, calm yourself, and speak to me with some respect!"

Harry, however, was not impressed, nor was he intimidated. He felt numb; there was a deafening buzz ringing in his ears and lingering hatred repelling all rational thought from his brain. He had one goal, and that was to leave. "Expelliarmus," he shouted, sending Snape's wand flying only a few feet away. "Now move."

Severus remained rooted on the spot, confident that Harry would do little more to prevent him from doing so. Angry and impulsive though he knew the boy to be, he very highly doubted he'd actually take this a step further and attack his Professor… he soon found he'd underestimated him; he was suddenly hit with a weak blasting curse and sent sprawled across the floor.

"Potter!" He shouted after the boy, but it was too late. Harry Potter was gone.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 20

History from a New Standpoint

xxx

Severus picked himself up off the ground, but made no attempt to go after Harry. Exceedingly obstinate though he was, Severus was able to recognize defeat when it had overtaken him. He leaned wearily against the frame of the door, rubbing his forehead with his hand, a bleak expression on his face. There was no escaping the truth; he was at a loss for what to do. He wasn't good with this sort of thing; he never had been. Even when he and Lily had been involved, it had always taken a huge sacrifice of pride on his part merely to approach her after a quarrel; but then, she had always understood this.

Severus and Lily had been an odd pair. No one, aside from the two of them, really knew how they'd come to be together. It had all started with a fight- funny thing that it ended the same way. But all throughout the time they'd been involved with one another, there had rarely been a month in which they'd avoided having a row. Admittedly, such fights had almost always been Severus' fault, for Lily knew when she was wrong and often would give in when Severus confronted her about it. He, however, had been a different story; many people had reasoned that this was why she had been so good for him. She had been the one person able to control him, and keep him within his boundaries. She knew not to be afraid of him. If he ever raised his voice to her, she would immediately come back and put him in his rightful place. If he ever ventured into possessive territory, she was quick to draw his attention to it, and the way in which she did it always brought it to an immediate stop. Indeed, she had kept him from becoming his father, and her fiery temper that did it was one of the qualities that Severus had admired most about her.

Lily had realized, long before they'd married, that apologies were not one of his strong points. Her mother had always joked about how the male ego needs constant feeding, and Lily had never realized, until she dated Severus, how right her dear mum had been. Years of ridicule and derision had turned him into an incredibly insecure man, and it was a quality leading to the worst of his character flaws. She'd recognized what it meant when he would drag himself into the room sometime after a quarrel, and accepted his standing there in silence and struggling for words as his pathetic attempt at apology. She knew what that alone cost him, and was generous enough to help him with the words he needed to say without discrediting his dignity. But now she was gone, and the person with whom his compunction now rested wouldn't allow him the same grace.

Now Severus was going to have to be the adult. He was going to have to take control of the situation before it escalated to a level out of his hands- but like years ago, he had no clue as to the way he was going to do this. He'd always depended on Lily for these things... but she was gone now. Thinking hard, he realized that after their relationship's end, he'd always gone to Albus…

With a disgruntled sigh, Severus looked around and stepped into the corridor, closing his office door behind him. He set off down the cold dungeon hallway, glaring off into a distance. He knew there was no other option; he had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, and his desire to keep the news under wraps canceled out the prospect of anyone else he might have considered. Strange as it was, he was battling his own critical judgment, willing himself to make the choice to seek help. He tried painstakingly so not to think about all the reasons he resented having to go to this man. He tried not to think about the fact that he was only in this position because of him… and then, he wondered what it would be like if he weren't in this position…

If given the chance, would he go back and choose never to know? Would he prefer to be going about his business, suffering under the false pretense that his wife had cheated on him with his worst mortal enemy? It seemed to him that this might actually be the better way. If his "son" wanted nothing to do with him, then he was satisfied leaving that alone; he'd still benefit from being able to go through his days with less bitterness at the woman he loved. It was much less burdensome to hold onto her memory with fond remembrance than it was to try to force his indelible hate for her to the back of his mind.

As Severus arrived at the headmaster's door, it took every ounce of strength in him to raise his hand and rap his knuckles against it. It took every last bit of willpower he possessed not to turn and recede down the coiled stairs as he heard Dumbledore's gentle voice inviting him inward.

Placing his hand on the bronze, Griffin-shaped door handle, he allowed it to linger there a moment as he prepared himself. Now was not the time to treat the headmaster with hostility- not when he desperately needed the man's council. In one motion, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, waiting in the doorway for a moment to observe the surprised look on Dumbledore's face.

"Severus," Dumbledore said with subtle astonishment. "Please, sit," he said after a moment of gazing at the darkly robed wizard standing there. He invitingly motioned to the chair in front of his desk and sat back in his own.

Severus suppressed his annoyance at the Headmaster's manner; he knew the portrait hanging outside the office door always informed Dumbledore of who was standing on the other side.

"I must say, I'm a little surprised to see you here, Severus," Dumbledore said conversationally, selecting a small piece of candy out of the jar he'd removed from his desk and then offering a piece to Severus, who declined. "I had thought you might need more time."

Severus was tapping his fingers on the arm of his seat, glowering with restrained incense as Dumbledore spoke. Did he realize how he was reminding Severus of the reasons for which he had almost turned around?

Dumbledore contemplated him for a moment, and then asked gently, "What is it, Severus?"

The begrudged expression on Severus' face faded as he raised an eyebrow and looked evasively down at his lap. "The boy knows, Albus. He saw our conversation during Occlumency, less than an hour ago."

Severus returned his gaze to Dumbledore's face, and the Headmaster was resting his chin on his knuckles, looking thoughtful. He nodded. "How did he react?"

Severus hesitated to answer; this was the part he had been dreading. He was going to have to explain what had happened and be forced to endure the Headmaster's reproving lecture after having done so.

"Not well," Severus admitted. "Though I suppose the effects might have been somewhat muted if I hadn't lost my temper-" he paused, but the headmaster said nothing. Severus got the idea he had expected this to happen as well. "He saw a portion of our conversation, and I don't doubt he took it out of context."

Dumbledore remained quiet for a moment, examining his hands in front of him. "What do you think best to do?" Dumbledore finally asked, looking up at Severus.

"Well that's why I'm here, Albus, isn't it?" snapped Severus. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, perhaps you should first determine what you want," Dumbledore proposed. "Do you wish things to stay the way they are? Can you go on teaching Harry for the next two years with things the way they are?"

"No, it certainly needs to be addressed," Severus replied tersely. "I at least need to explain... but he doesn't want a relationship anymore than I do, Albus."

"But are you certain that you do not, Severus?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Severus scoffed. "What does a relationship even look like between Potter and myself? How could either of us even entertain the idea?"

"It would seem to me," Dumbledore answered, peering over his spectacles, "that asking those questions is a very good place to start."

"Headmaster, I came here for advice, not for cryptic messages-"

"But it is not a cryptic message, Severus! It is a very straightforward one, but you keep avoiding the point because of your fear. Fear that you will fail the boy, fear that he will fail you, that you will reopen too many old wounds. The message is simply this: you must first decide what you want and stop waiting for Harry or myself to decide that for you."

Severus huffed a sigh of frustration. "I know that Lily would want-"

"It's not what Lily would want, Severus-"

"I know, I know! Bloody hell, Albus. Fine, I will admit- I do not know what I want. I do not know what is right. I don't know where to begin. All I know is that I don't- that is to say, I can't keep wondering..."

"You don't want to wonder 'what if'," Dumbledore finished, and Severus nodded. "Well," Dumbledore said brightly, "at least you know what you don't want! That is a start."

"Perhaps you're right," Severus agreed quietly. "And I don't want him having false ideas about what really happened- if he's going to hate me, fine, he probably deserves to. But if he must, it might as well be for due reason."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and this time could not deny himself a small smile. "Well, therein your answer lies," he said, sitting back again.

Severus looked up at him questioningly.

"You came here to seek my advice, did you not?" asked Dumbledore.

"As I have been saying," said Severus, gritting his teeth.

"Well, it seems to me that you've answered your own question. And here is my advice: Tell Harry what you've told me. I think you'll find he's quite fair and will want to hear you out. Wait until tomorrow, of course, when he's had some time to calm down and digest the information. Ask him to speak to you- don't order him. Take him to neutral ground; do not sit him in front of your desk and make him feel like just another student. Answer his questions- honestly- there's no need to divert from the truth. I think you'll find that honesty and fair treatment from your end will produce quite the change in him.

"Above all, even if he does not react as you hoped, be patient. I think that in time, Harry may want the opportunity to get to know you, if you'll only make it clear to him that the door will always be open. After all, a family- a bit of security- is all he has ever really wanted."

"I doubt he desires such security from me," Severus observed sardonically. He was not upset; rather, he had already accepted that he had no right to bitterness over the boy's feelings towards him. He had encouraged Potter's hatred and had reciprocated in kind. He didn't deserve his forgiveness.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Severus," Dumbledore said gently, walking around his desk and placing a hand on Severus' shoulder. "Let him get to know you, the real you- the one no one else sees. He can't dislike you for that."

Severus dropped his head. Dumbledore's earnest compliments stirred a strange emotion in him, though he couldn't tell quite what it was.

"I still don't see how I can reconcile-"

"Maybe not reconciliation at first," said Dumbledore. "But a ceasefire, if you will. You must at least stop antagonizing each other with every encounter. I don't think that's so demanding."

"Then you must not know Potter or me very well," Severus quipped, but he felt relieved; he could control himself, that was a good place to start.

"Oh, but I do," Dumbledore replied with a quiet chuckle. "And I think you'll find that you have more in common than you realized."

Dumbledore retook his seat; an unspoken understanding that their conversation was over had been reached, and Severus stood to move towards the door. When he'd reached the halfway point, he paused, and then turned, looking at Dumbledore very seriously.

"And Albus, I appreciate your help-" though his tone was far from appreciative; rather, it was hard and inarguable. "But I want your word that you'll interfere no more."

Severus hardly needed to say anything further; his meaning was clear. Under no circumstances would he tolerate Dumbledore's meddling, on any account… and the aged man sitting across the room understood that beyond doubt.

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "You have my word."

xxx

Harry had resisted crying for a long time, but as he found whilst he sat alone this night in Gryffindor tower, tears of grief are much easier to suppress than tears of rage. If one were to take a peek into his dormitory room at this moment in time, that person might wonder just what had happened there. The books that had been neatly stacked next to his bed were now strewn across the floor, having been thrown from the surface of the nightstand Harry had kicked transverse. His pillows were lying disorderedly about the room; they'd been whipped in every direction as he'd attempted to vent his frustration. All this had been done in Harry's desperate attempt to release his fury in a way that felt less weak than the alternative of tears.

It hadn't been so hard when he'd been in Snape's office; it had been no more to him than looking at the face of the man he'd hated for the past five years and realizing that there was supposed to be some sort of connection between them. However, now that he was no longer in the presence of the man, he couldn't help but think of the situation in terms of what his father felt about him, rather than what Snape felt about him.

And it hurt… there was no lying about it; it hurt to know that he had a father who hated him. It hurt him to know that his true father had never loved him, that he didn't have a man in his heritage to be proud of, to want to become like, as all young boys do… that he'd even begun hating Harry's mother, most likely when he'd found out she was with child. He imagined Snape had lied about finding out about their relationship mere weeks before; after all, how difficult would it have been for Snape to realize that he'd been with Lily at the time of Harry's conception? No, Snape hated children, which was obvious from the way he taught his classes… it wasn't difficult to imagine Lily happily telling him the news and him being repulsed by the idea of having to chase a sticky, whiny, clingy child all around. He would have easily thrown her out the door without a moment's hesitation.

Harry was very confident that all of these things he'd imagined were true, but he still couldn't fathom how the fact that Snape was his father had stayed hidden for so long… he had a very strong suspicion that Dumbledore and his Mother were heavily involved. Magic was the only way to explain his likeness to James Potter- everyone told him he was the man's exact replica. Things must have been really horrible for his mother to have been forced to take such drastic measures to ensure no one would never find out…

And yet he had. If what Snape had said was true, how had he come to learn that Harry was his son? Why did he have to be told? Could he really have been in the dark all these years? There were many things Harry didn't know about Snape, and one of the greatest mysteries about him was involving his past… just what had happened? Why had his mother wanted to protect him- no- from what had his mother tried to protect him?

He needed to know. He needed to know what had happened before he made any decisions, before he deciphered the best course of action. He now knew nothing about his past… he now knew nothing about the man he was supposed to call "Dad."

Tomorrow he would go and see Dumbledore. He didn't dare to risk the trip tonight; he couldn't stand the thought of what might happen if he ran into Snape on the way. He needed to avoid Snape at all costs until he had figured out what to do. No- tomorrow was the day he would venture out into the castle corridors. He would go and speak with Dumbledore, for he had no other option. He had to know what all of this meant… he had to know what to do.

Before long, Harry had fallen into a restless sleep, but this did not give his mind any relief from his racing thoughts. His dreams were filled with the continuous looming presence of a darkly robed man hovering over him. Snape had appeared in Harry's dormitory room, a nasty smile curling his thin lips and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Harry begged and pleaded for his life, but Snape told him this was the only way for him to live a peaceful life; he raised his wand high above his head and brought it down again in a slashing motion. Harry screamed as a blinding flash of green light flooded his vision; as the dream world faded to black, his eyes flew open and the real world came into focus; he shakily realized where he was.

Breathing heavily and sitting up slowly, Harry reached over and lifted the clock from his nightstand. It was five o' clock in the morning. The staff members who had returned to Hogwarts in order to prepare for start of term always ate together around nine o' clock, and if Harry hurried, he could satisfy his growling stomach, speak with Dumbledore, and be back in Gryffindor Tower before Snape had even risen from his bed.

Still damp with sweat from his dream, Harry washed quickly and hurried to get dressed before making his way out the common room door. He stepped out into the lonely corridor and glanced around; no one was there. Trying to breathe a little easier, feeling stupid for being so shaken by a simple dream, he followed the long, stone hallways to the Great Hall.

He reached the great doors leading into the room and attempted to push them open, but they wouldn't budge. He tried again, pushing against them with all his strength, but still they didn't move. He stepped back and looked at them for a moment in frustration.

"Come on," Harry groaned, shoulders slumped in exasperation. He had no desire to go down to the kitchens for food, as he would then be one level closer to Snape. "Open up, I'm hungry!"

And as though he had spoken the magic words, there was a loud clack and the doors slowly opened, the candles inside lighting themselves as he set foot into the hall. Displayed on the Gryffindor table was enough breakfast food for one person, and Harry gladly sat in front of it, piling his plate full of eggs and sausages.

Within ten minutes, he'd nearly inhaled all of the food he'd put on his plate, and was ready for a second helping. Just as he'd eagerly reached towards the refilled plates of food, however, he realized that the looming shadow that had haunted his previous night's dreams was now hovering in front of him… and this was no dream. Snape was looking down at him, and he was just as real as the bench on which Harry sat.

Snape seemed to be waiting for Harry to speak, as he remained silent with his gaze fixed on the boy. Harry resisted swallowing the dry lump in his throat and said, "How did you know I would be here?" His voice was quieter, and more croaky than he would have liked it to be.

Severus rolled his eyes. "You're so predictable," he stated, shaking his head. Harry didn't realize that this wasn't being directed as an insult, and glared hard at the man. Severus watched him for a moment, and then, ignoring his defiant expression, said, "I wonder if I could have a word."

Harry opened his mouth- and then he stopped himself. He wanted to refuse. He didn't want to speak to Snape right now; he didn't want to be around him, and had no idea what the Potion's Master had in mind when he said he "wanted a word." But the memory of Snape's ire the day before was fresh in his mind, so Harry kept his mouth firmly shut.

After taking a mournful look at his food plate, Harry grudgingly rose from his seat. Snape turned and walked towards the staff table, and Harry assumed that he was to follow as the older man headed towards the exit behind it. Snape pushed through the door and Harry followed him down a narrow set of stairs and an unfamiliar corridor, before Snape finally came to a halt at the end nof a narrow hallway branching off from there.

Severus turned to Harry, attempting not to seem too threatening or menacing as he spoke. "These are my private quarters," said Severus, nodding towards the door in front of which they stood. "They are revealed to very few, and I expect that fact to remain. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry cast a wary glance at the door and Severus rolled his eyes.

"I assure you, Potter, this is not a trap. Considering the nature of our discussion, I would prefer the privacy of my living quarters."

Harry studied him for a moment. "And what is it that needs to be discussed, sir?" he asked, tone still dark and bitter.

"Many things," Severus said, turning and opening his door. He stepped inside. "But I will, of course, leave it up to you whether you are willing to hear them."

Partly because Snape's change in attitude had peaked his curiosity, Harry stepped inside, moving a bit past Snape, and looked around.

The rooms were not in a horrible state; in fact, they were furnished quite nicely. Harry could see several closed doors and a small hallway from where he stood, and as he looked around, he observed that they were standing in a room that combined a small dining area with the living room. To his left was a semicircle of counter space with cupboards aligned above. In the center was a small table- it was square and made of dark, cherry colored wood. There were three matching chairs placed around it, pushed in neatly.

To his right and in front of him was a long stretch of space, filled with a dark, black leather couch and two chairs in the same fashion. The stunted table in the center was made of the same type wood that the dining area and fireplace were done in- cherry maple wood- and the ground was stone, but covered with a long, black and red area rug, which was laced with silver designs.

Harry's eyes now drifted to the windows, which Snape must have noticed as he spoke up from behind.

"We're not in the dungeons," the Potions Master informed him, stepping forward. "The Great Hall is on a rise, and the dungeons are actually much lower than this. There is a small staircase leading up here from the locked area in my office."

"You said you wanted a word," Harry said coldly, turning to him and behaving as though he cared nothing for what Snape was telling him about his rooms.

Severus studied him for a moment, and then nodded curtly. "Yes, I did," he agreed, subduing his temper, which he could feel threatening to rise. It wasn't as though he really wanted to continue small talk with the boy, but the fact that he was being so rudely dismissed irritated him. "Have a seat."

Harry silently did as he was told, keeping his face completely impassive as he sank into the couch which Snape had motioned to.

"There are," Severus started, settling in the chair across from Harry, "many things for which I feel I owe you an explanation."

Harry raised his eyebrows with an expression that clearly said, "No kidding," but remained silent. Was Snape really going to explain this all to him? Was he going to answer his questions… truthfully tell him what happened? Or was he simply going to explain that he did not desire a relationship, a fact Harry was already well aware of?

Severus took a moment to prepare himself. He'd mentally been over this multiple times the previous night- he knew exactly what he was going to say- but that didn't make it any easier. Still, he owed this to the boy in front of him; retelling a truthful version of the events was difficult for Severus, yes, but he imagined it would be much more vexing having no idea what had happened at all.

"I think I shall start at the beginning; I am sure you are wondering how I came to be with your Mother, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied grudgingly; he didn't want to admit that he was interested in Snape's story, but he did want answers.

Severus debated for a moment, then replied, "I think you can drop the "sir" business, for the time being. We're just having a conversation." It was what Dumbledore had told him to do- be patient, earn Harry's trust, and treat him with respect. Harry's sour expression lessened slightly.

"I- not unlike many boys in our year- knew I wanted to be with Lily the moment I set eyes on her at Hogwarts. What set me apart from those other boys, however, is that I knew I stood no chance." Severus smiled sadly. "She was popular, intelligent, beautiful- she could have chosen anyone. Owing to the fact that I knew she was beyond my reach, I never chased her, never tried to make her love me. I think, in retrospect, this is what made her trust me. We became study partners early on in our education, both at the top of most of our classes but with very different strengths- she was the top of Charms, and I had an uncanny ability for Potions. Combined, we became both became top students in our year.

"Class rivalry at that time, if you can believe it, was even more severe in our days at school than it is now. For that reason, we often met in secret to study together in an effort to avoid harassment from our groups of friends. Sneaking around together, I think, is part of what made us so close, made it exciting.

"It wasn't always friendly, however; as we became stronger students, we became competitive as well. During fifth year, under the pressure of the O.W.L.s, our friendship started showing its cracks. Though I am loathe to admit it, I started to become distracted with my group of Slytherin friends, who were starting to dabble in the Dark Arts; I was drawn in, while your Mother focused on her work. She began to beat me on every test, and I couldn't stomach the thought of being beat by her- a girl, a Gryffindor, and a Muggle-born. I am not proud of it, but I turned on her in the worst way- wanting to appear strong to my fellow Slytherins, I began to treat her poorly in the corridors, and it all came to a head when... well, you saw the memory, last year.

"Fortunately for me, however, your Mother had a bit of a habit of saving people- not unlike yourself. She saw what was happening to me and wasn't willing to let our friendship go, despite the horrible way I had treated her. She eventually convinced me to give up that group of friends, and because in my heart I knew that I loved her, I complied- at least on the outside. We began to spend more time together; from our fights we had realized that we did not want to lose one another, and it made the relationship all the more important.

"It took us two more years and quite a bit of maturity, but eventually our relationship grew into something more than friendship. Still, at my request, because I didn't wish to give James Potter another reason to torment me and any more reason to pursue Lily, we kept our relationship a secret. We continued to meet in secret and planned out a life afterwards where we would escape to my family's home in the country, away from prying eyes, when we graduated."

"So why, then," Harry interrupted, unable to stop himself, "Did Sirius tell me my Mum and- James Potter- started dating during seventh year?"

"Ah," said Severus with a nod, "Well, that is another story in and of itself, but the short of it is that this is what James told his friends, and your Mum was certainly friendly enough with Potter to make it a completely believable lie."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," started Severus with some difficulty- it was difficult to keep the loathing out of his voice when he talked about James Potter- "As many boys do, Potter endeavored to use friendship with your Mother to make her want something more. Your Mum, a trusting girl with a bright personality, became quite close to him during seventh year. Their friendship was no secret- they could be seen everywhere together all throughout that year, and many people assumed they were dating. James never corrected anyone and Lily ignored any accusations as teasing. It drove me mad, of course, but you couldn't tell your Mother anything... she was not going to let me decide her friends for her, that is for certain.

"When seventh year ended, Lily and I had a quiet wedding. Times were becoming dangerous then and we thought the Dark Lord might use our relationship to manipulate either one of us; my old group of school friends was trying to recruit me to the Death Eaters and Lily had become an unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries, as well as an active member of the Order of the Phoenix, with Potter. When Potter learned we had wed, he of course told Black and Lupin that he and Lily had quietly broken it off; that concentrating on defeating the Dark Lord was first priority before any relationships.

"It was not too long, however, before I had driven your Mother into Potter's arms for good. Despite all of our best attempts, the Dark Lord had discovered our relationship and knew my weaknesses. I had, as I'm sure you've learned by now, extensive knowledge of the dark arts and the Dark Lord would not allow me to walk away from him without consequences. If I had it to do over again, I would have gone to Dumbledore, but in those days, I distrusted him for his failure to intervene during my days at school, and he distrusted me due to my reputation. Lily had attempted to persuade me to take a job from him, but I turned it down.

"The Dark Lord sent Lucius Malfoy and a group of my old school friends to "persuade" me, and I was fed all the right words. He told me that the Dark Lord was on the rise, and would soon be ruling the Wizarding world. He told me of the many things the Dark Lord had accomplished, and the goals towards which he was working. I cannot deny- the appeal of power and the lure of recognition and belonging was overwhelming. Lucius knew my one true loyalty was with Lily- and he convinced me that she was in danger, and might be spared if I were to help their side."

"That's why he offered to let her live," Harry said slowly, interrupting Snape. "He promised you that she would be spared, and that's why he offered to let her live."

Severus exhaled and nodded. "Yes, that is why. Lucius insisted that I could keep it from her until the Dark Lord took over, and then she would be happy that I had taken these steps to protect her. I foolishly believed him; I thought I was making the right decision to protect my wife and our future. I took the Dark Mark, I left for three weeks, telling Lily I needed to travel to collect rare Potions supplies- I was working for an apothecary at the time- and returned when I had recovered from initiation.

"This is where the plan went terribly wrong. Lily came to see me a short time after I'd received my mark… I hadn't become accustomed to hiding it yet, as I was spending most of my time with the Death Eaters or on my own. But she had just learned of her pregnancy…" Severus took another deep breath. "Her pregnancy with you, and couldn't wait to tell me. Before she could, however, she saw the mark, and realizing what this meant, knew at once she could not tell me the truth.

"Her whole demeanor had rapidly switched from excited and happy to regretful and pleading… she told me she had been with Potter, and that she was pregnant with his child." Severus stopped, looking down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. He placed them on the arms of his chair bracingly and continued.

"I am- not proud- of what I did next," his eyes were shut, and he opened them slowly and raised his gaze to Harry's. He saw that the boy was watching him intently with a sickened expression, as though he already knew the rest of the story. Still, Severus continued. "I was furious. The thing I'd always feared would happen- the weakness I had when it came to her and other men, the worries I told myself over and over were ridiculous now seemed quite reasonable- it felt like a stab in the back with the intent to kill. I told her to get out, and she seemed shocked. I don't believe she expected this- she had wanted a way to make sure that if need be, she could have prevented me from wanting to have anything to do with her or the baby. She never expected me to be violent… and it sickens me that I was. I was rough with her- I hurled her to the ground, and then picked her up again and threw her out the door. I don't doubt I scared her… I'd never treated her that way before…

Harry was glaring at Snape, shaking his head in disgust. So, they'd been married… and he'd turned on her in an instant… despite her remorse, despite all the facts of her past loyalty, he'd behaved as though she'd been planning it all along. He'd actually harmed her… he said he wasn't proud of what he did. That was an understatement; he should have been downright ashamed.

"She went to Potter- she didn't want me to find out she'd lied, and it was the only way she could see being believable to everyone else. She wanted to protect you- she thought I'd- that I'd come after you, claim custody… I'm not sure. But the man she thought she knew seemed long gone to her- she didn't realize that she'd just confirmed every one of my secret suspicions. She didn't realize that she'd delivered the final blow for the situation I'd been brooding over since the beginning of our relationship. She told Potter what she'd done, and he agreed to go along with the plan, and then she went to Dumbledore.

"She begged him never to tell me. She told him that I'd hurt her, and that she couldn't trust me not to make you suffer for what she'd done. She believed I would be angry with her, no matter what the circumstances… and I admit, I might have been, though I would have been gladder to know she'd never betrayed me.

"I always assumed that you were Potter's child… you can see why I have been less than kind towards you these past five years. You asked me this year why I keep saving you- it's because I've never been able to justify letting you die simply because of what you represented… and I could never bring myself to hate Lily in her entirety. I hated her memory, yes… but I had respect for what we had shared before.

"A short while ago, I saw the two events I've just described to you from Lily's point of view… up to the point where she spoke to Dumbledore. I saw her tell Potter that she'd lied to me, and couldn't go back because she couldn't give her child a life with a Death Eater as a father. She had never slept with him while we were together. I was able to deduce that the only logical person that could be my child was you… and then Dumbledore stepped in. He brought me back to his office from the memory, and when I asked him if you were my son, he couldn't bring himself to admit that he'd kept it from me all these years. He told me I'd killed my child by being so rough with Lily, and that you were in fact the son of James.

"Though Dumbledore did not intend to tell me the truth, it became a necessity when in my research I discovered a potion that might help to break the connection between you and the Dark Lord. It would require the blood of a close relative who was also Death Eater, branded with the magic of the Dark Lord, the one you were to defeat. I spoke of this to Dumbledore, mentioning its impossibility… and that is when he decided to tell me.

Harry scoffed. "And you said you didn't care, am I right?" he asked, forgetting himself.

There was a pause. "No," replied Severus quietly. "I certainly do care, Harry. I also was furious that this was kept from me, and so I can imagine how you felt when you discovered it in an equally shocking manner yesterday afternoon. I am sorry you've had to go through this, and fearful that there is no way to put it right."

Harry looked up, slightly surprised, and then lowered his gaze again.

Severus went on. "I have not told you for several reasons, some of which I am not sure I should share with you. I will say this: it has taken very much getting used to this idea. But I haven't kept this from you out of spite or resistance to acknowledging you. The portion of my conversation with Professor Dumbledore, which you saw during Occlumency, gave you entirely the wrong idea. We had been arguing, and I told him that I barely even knew you. He'd responded saying that I'd known you for the past five years… I was merely pointing out that I have grown to know only the side of you that I have chosen to see, the part of you that I have provoked into being the replica of James Potter… I didn't say that in the best way."

Harry shook his head- he didn't care. He didn't care what Snape had to say… the fact of the matter was, he had avoided telling him, and Harry didn't care why. He had deserved to know… and now, he was dealing with anger at this man for what he had done to his mother. He had treated her with less respect than he treated Harry with- and that was saying a great deal. He had been married to the woman, he was supposed to have given her his undying devotion… and yet it had all disappeared in an instant, and what was more, he'd turned violent. Not only had he spent years upon years tormenting Harry for something he wasn't responsible for, he'd actually physically hurt his mother, and scared her to the point where she was afraid for her child and self. It was disgusting…

"I will answer any questions you have," said Severus, scrutinizing Harry as he spoke. He knew what the boy was feeling towards him right now, but he couldn't let it change his approach… as resentful as Severus was towards Dumbledore, there was no denying that the headmaster knew Harry inside and out. Severus had resolved to take the steps he'd recommended. He might be right, after all, he had predicted this reaction from Harry. "Telling you all of this has been no easy task for me," he admitted. "But I felt you deserved to know… and I know you want little to do with me, but I'm not going to deny you the opportunity to make that decision with due deliberation. I have now given you all the facts, and I ask for only one thing- let me know when you do decide. I don't deserve much from you… but I ask that you'll allow me the consideration of being able to act accordingly. Beyond that, the rest is up to you."

Severus paused, looking uncomfortable about something, and then said slowly, "I know I have treated you… unwell… in the past, and this is the main reason for my hesitation in telling you, as of late. I had been deciding how best to approach you in the time immediately before our last lesson… so you know, I would not have left you in the dark."

Harry glared at him- how dare he choose this time, of all that he could have, to finally be fair? He was admitting he was wrong? Was he actually sitting there, saying he was open to whatever Harry needed from him? Since when did he do this kind of thing? Why now? Now, when Harry most wanted a reason to hate him, to yell at him, to say the million and one things on his mind…

"Is there anything you wish to know beyond what I've told you, at this time?" asked Severus, still watching the boy intently. It was ridiculous how obvious the child made his emotion… Severus didn't need any type of magic to tell what was on his mind.

Harry looked at him for a moment, and then said, "No," rising from his seat. "May I leave?"

Severus resisted the urge to insist he stayed, but Harry had done what he'd asked. He'd stayed and heard all Severus had aimed to say, and now the rest truly did lie in the boy's own hands. Severus had no more control over the situation.

"Yes," Severus replied, a bit grudgingly. "You may take the way out that we came.."

Harry nodded and turned to leave. Shortly before he'd reached the door, he heard Snape add from behind him, "If there's anything else you need, you know where you can find me… and you may do so."

xx End Chapter xx

Chapter 21

A Dark Man's Woeful Past

xxx

It had been two days since Harry's last encounter with Snape, and he was in no hurry to see him again. He stayed hidden in Gryffindor tower, keeping a far distance from the dungeons, and for his part, Snape didn't seem to mind the distance.

On the Saturday morning before the start of term, however, Harry woke to a light tapping on his window; he rolled over and opened his eyes to see Hedwig outside his window and hurried to let her in. Thanking her for the delivery with an owl treat from his trunk, Harry took a small scroll of parchment from her leg and unfurled it.

Please see me for your last Occlumency lesson before the start of term at 1 o' clock today, the note read, and Harry didn't need a signature to know what this meant. His break from Snape was at an end.

Harry's current feelings about Snape were quite confused, but he knew he needed to start sorting them soon. However, the past week had been quite an emotional ride for Harry and he couldn't quite tell where to begin, nor did he much feel like reliving many of the events through memory. More than anything, Harry wanted to shut down his mind and crawl back into bed... but this is where he had been hiding the past several days and it hadn't gotten him any closer to understanding everything that had transpired.

Harry felt as though everything he'd known about his Potions Professor had been called into question. First, he'd been uncharacteristically caring in his efforts to save Harry's life; far from treating him like a burden or making Harry feel guilty for costing him so much, he'd been almost selfless throughout the entire ordeal. It was a side of the man he'd never seen before. Soon after, however, he'd been right back to his dour self- and if anything, his antagonistic tendencies had multiplied exponentially. They'd come to blows in Snape's office when Harry had learned the truth, and far from reacting vengefully afterward, as Harry would have expected, he instead had extended the proverbial olive branch, answering all his unasked questions despite their painful nature.

What, exactly, was Snape playing at? Was he deliberately trying to confuse Harry? Or could it be that he was just as confused himself?

xxx

Severus Snape had always been a man of pride, and certainly to a fault. It had cost him many things throughout his life; this, and only this had allowed him to justify sacrificing it for the sake of Harry Potter. It had pained him to relive his past for the sake of giving Harry answers, and he felt almost embarassed every time he thought of it now... but, he continually reminded himself, it had been a conscious decision and one he had made for the best.

Part of Severus felt that he had actually deserved the pain of recalling the details of his and Lily's relationship and its demise. Part of him had realized that, though he had been given the grace of feeling at peace with his wife,she had still died hating him- fearing him, even. And he deserved that, because the fact of the matter was, it had all been his fault. He had chosen to take the mark. He had treated her in a way that made her too scared to even attempt explaining what had happened. He had chased her to James Potter. Dumbledore, Lupin, Black, Pettigrew… they'd all been right. He didn't understand how he couldn't have seen it before.

Severus had no doubt that Harry was still furious with him- and the boy had every reason to be.

xxx

In the end, Harry thought to himself as he made his way down the corridor to Snape's office, Snape's admission of everything that had happened in the past had spoken immeasurable volumes to Harry. Snape was one of the few people in Harry's life who did not shrink away from being honest with him, even if it came at no personal gain. Snape had told him even the unwholesome bits of truth that reflected poorly on him, and the fact that he had done so out of fairness to Harry, reflected his unspoken apology.

Harry arrived at Snape's office ready at least to face the man, even if he wasn't yet ready to talk. He only hoped Snape did not regret everything he had told Harry and would not use this lesson for vindication.

Harry knocked on the door and entered when Snape called him in. Snape did not speak as he cleared his desk. Once he had finished, he moved to the center of the room and spoke to Harry in a businesslike manner.

"When the term starts, we will have these lessons on a biweekly basis," Snape told him evenly. "Today will be our last lesson until further notice. Do you have any objection to this?"

"No, sir."

"Good," said Snape, nodding curtly. "Now, on my count. One, two, three... Legilimens!"

It was a brief lesson, and Harry succeeded twice in blocking Snape from his mind for a minute at a time.

"You seem to be making progress," Snape commented at the end of the lesson. "Continue to practice every evening, and we'll see how you fare in two weeks time." He paused, deliberately, and asked, "Do you have any further questions?"

Harry was unsure if Snape had meant his query to have a double meaning, but suddenly Harry realized that he only wanted to ask one question: the one that had been lingering on his mind since the night he and Snape had last spoken- the one that would tell him if there was any way that he could ever forgive Snape completely for all the mistakes of his past.

"I have one," Harry said uneasily. "But not about Occlumency."

Snape looked quickly taken aback, but he masked his surprise rather quickly. "Go on," he said simply, though his face held an expectant look.

"I just need to know... Did you really love her?" Harry asked quietly.

Severus blinked, staring back at Harry. He didn't want to answer this question, not now- it was more of himself than he really cared to share with anybody, especially the boy who now had the power to affect his life in any way he wished. But battling his own apprehension, slowly and in a voice much smaller than he'd intended, he said, "With all my heart."

Harry looked at him for another moment, his gaze fixed on the Potions Master as though to assess the truth of that statement. Seemingly satisfied, he gave Snape a small nod and said, "Good day, Professor," before heading out the door.

Harry was still shaking slightly when he reached the first flight of stairs leading up to the entrance hall. He hadn't been sure how Snape would react to that question- though he had to admit, the man had surprised him. He hadn't expected such a straightforward, such an earnest answer- with an almost heartbroken quality to it. It was surprising, more than anything else, to see him display any type of emotion, and especially one which was so… human.

Just beyond the first corridor leading away from the entrance hall, Harry spotted Dumbledore walking towards him. As they neared each other, Dumbledore gave him a small nod of greeting and a warm smile, continuing on his way. Harry realized as this happened that he must have been on his way to see the Snape, and wondered vaguely if it was unwise to ask him now if he and Harry could talk. After a quick moment of indecision, Harry turned around and called after the headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry shouted, quickening his pace to catch up with him. "Wait-"

Dumbledore turned around and faced Harry, a mildly astonished look on his face. Just as he had felt with Severus, after all that had recently happened, he hadn't expected to be approached by the boy, and hadn't wanted to force him into another conversation.

Harry reached the place where Dumbledore stood, and Dumbledore smiled. "Good afternoon, Harry," he said amiably. "I was just on my way to speak with Professor Snape."

"Yes," Harry said, looking down the hallway behind Dumbledore. "I had guessed as much. I was wondering if I could speak with you- I can wait until you've finished, though," he quickly added; he didn't want to seem as though he were demanding the headmaster's time.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, shaking his head and taking up stride in the opposite direction of where he had been heading. Harry walked alongside him. "I'll speak with Professor Snape later. What can I do for you?"

"Well- I'd rather not say, here..." Harry asked dubiously, glancing around.

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore said absentmindedly. Something seemed just a bit off, though Harry couldn't quite figure what. "Well, where shall we head?"

"Oh," Harry said, startled. "Er- your office would be fine."

"Yes, but isn't that such an ordinary place for serious conversation?" Dumbledore pondered, smiling lightly. "I thought perhaps somewhere a bit less business like. I quite like the idea of the Quidditch stands on a day like to day, don't you?"

"I always like the sound of the Quidditch stands, sir," Harry said, smiling.

"Though you like them second to being on the field, I am sure," said Dumbledore kindly.

Harry felt suddenly warm towards the Headmaster in that moment; he was reminded once more of the gentle Headmaster that had guided him through his years at Hogwarts, rather than the secretive and flawed old man he'd come to think of him as frequently over the past year.

"Quite nice, quite nice," Dumbledore observed as they reached the first row of seats in the Quidditch stands. "Now, Harry, tell me- what is on your mind?"

"Well, Professor Dumbledore, I suppose Professor Snape, erm, told you about...?"

"Yes, Harry, we have spoken. And you have concerns, understandably, I am sure?"

"I do..."

"Have you spoken to Professor Snape about these?" Dumbledore asked. "I must warn you, I have been asked not to interfere, and probably for good reason."

"Well, I have spoken to him... but I have questions for you, sir."

"Then by all means, Harry... fire away."

"How long have you known that Snape was my father?"

Dumbledore sighed, looking at the boy with a mournful expression. He had known this was coming- it had been his reason for suggestion the stands. He'd figured a wide, open area was best for this type of conversation… either one of them might feel like they needed an escape. "I've known since before you were born, Harry," he admitted softly. "I am sorry not to have told you earlier."

"Are you?" asked Harry. It wasn't an accusation; it was an earnest question. "I was wondering whether you were sorry I know now."

Dumbledore frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"You must have had your reasons for keeping this from me- from both of us- for so long," said Harry. "Snape said that you had only told him after it was absolutely necessary… would you have kept it secret if it hadn't been?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "No," he said, "I would have told him, regardless… I did want to leave it up to him, ultimately. And I did…"

"But why?" Harry asked. "Why now, and not earlier?"

Dumbledore evaluated him for a moment before speaking. "You mean to ask why I kept it from you in the first place."

Harry nodded hesitantly, and Dumbledore could tell that he hadn't wanted to ask that question outright. "I have many reasons…

"I did not trust Professor Snape when he was younger," Dumbledore started, looking out over the grounds. "I knew he came from a dark history- he had a bad home life, and did a poor job of hiding his knowledge of the Dark Arts. When your mother married him, I did not object, but I certainly questioned his motives. I was among those who believed that he had plans to hand her to Lord Voldemort.

"Lily insisted, again and again, that all he needed was a push in the right direction. He had not, at that time, received prodding from either side, and she was convinced within herself that if he were to join the Order, he would remain loyal. I still highly doubted this, and so it took a very long time for her to convince me to consider initiating him into the order. Still, I told her that I could not trust him until I had been able to watch him for a period of time… it was at this point that I offered him, through her, the position of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. He, however, still harbored resentment towards me for the neglect I had treated him with during his school years."

"Neglect?" Harry questioned, brow furrowed.

Dumbledore nodded, a pained expression crossing his face. "I was not attentive- and I should have looked into his family situation when I saw all the signs of an unhappy home life in his behavior at school. Perhaps if I had… things might be different." Dumbledore paused before saying quietly, "His mother went missing during his fifth year- he confessed to me later in his teaching career that his father had been the last person he'd seen her with."

"What happened to her?" Harry asked, his attention fully focused on Dumbledore. He had never known this- he'd had an idea, of course, after witnessing his memories, but hadn't imagined to this extent...

"We can only postulate, Harry, but suffice it to say that Professor Snape would not speak of the incident until after his Father's death... she was never found, and I believe his Father to be responsible. Other than that, I cannot say... it is not my story to disclose."

"She was never found?" Harry croaked, his throat sore from the suppressed emotion rising in it.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No- and I believe Severus partially blamed me for it. He held it against me, and rightfully so, for a long time- though I think his grief was too much to bear, and as a result, he buried all emotion he felt, thus resulting in his ability to hide all he's feeling at most times.

"This was the reason he never came over to our side- he was happy where he was, standing in neutral territory, and didn't realize that the offer I gave him was being extended in attempt to evaluate him for the Order. He turned it down, and before Lily could convince me to act with more confidence in him, he had received his Dark Mark.

"Severus has explained to you, I believe, what happened at this time." At this, Dumbledore paused to wait for Harry's nod of affirmation, before continuing. "When Lily came to see me, she not only made me promise to keep this a secret, but she also beseeched me to bring him to the side of good if it was within my power. I don't know why, but I felt that this was a necessary request to fill. When he came to me, bearing news of Voldemort's plans for the Potters, I immediately brought him into my service, promising him protection if he needed it. He again turned down the teaching position as it would now put him at risk, but pledged loyalty to me. Shortly after, Voldemort was attempting to put a spy into my midst, and Severus took the job. He came back to me, and I hired him as Potions Master.

"Now, you may wonder why after this I did not tell him so that he could immediately rescue you from the Dursleys. There is a very simple explanation- I still did not trust him completely, and I still believed him to be every bit of the dark, bitter, vengeful man he presents to the rest of the world. I knew little about him, and was still loyal to Lily's request to keep it secret.

"It took a long time for him to open up to me, but when he finally did, I began to see that there was a very different man inside than I had expected. I then considered telling him- but it was apparent that he still held grudges towards your parents, and you were safe where you were. It would have caused great difficulty to come and get you, and ensure that he was treating you well. You were still young, and not as able to take care of yourself. I couldn't risk a little child's happiness like that, and though I knew you were unhappy with the Dursleys, I feared that cruelty would be far more detrimental coming from your father. I hoped that when you came to Hogwarts I could then slowly introduce the two of you and lead you into the relationship.

"Immediately after you had arrived, however, it was clear to me that neither one of you could get along… and several instances which reinforced this point were enough to convince me that Lily had been right to request that neither of you ever found out.

"I've watched you two every year, hoping that at some point the opportunity to tell both of you would present itself. It never did, and after a while, I pushed the idea of bonding between the two of you to the back of my mind. I didn't think it possible, and saw no point in giving you a reason to have more contact than was already necessary.

"I realize, now, that this wasn't my choice to make. I should have told you, and told your father, and allowed you two to make your own decisions from there. I will just finish now by saying that I am exceedingly sorry, Harry. I'm sorry that I didn't see differently earlier."

Harry was sitting with his chin atop his knuckles, staring off into the distance. "No," he said distantly. "I understand why you did this- and I don't really blame you for it."

Dumbledore frowned. "I don't blame you for being bitter, Harry."

Harry lifted his head. Dumbledore was right- he did sound bitter, and for good reason; he was. He had a dark feeling that was burrowing deep within him, and he felt angry and resentful. At what, however, he couldn't quite understand.

"With whom does you anger lie?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"I'm not sure," said Harry slowly, turning his head and bringing his eyes to meet with the headmaster's. "Part of me wonders if I'm just all around angry at the situation… maybe I'm just angry at not knowing what I want."

Dumbledore was holding his gaze with his piercing blue one of compassion. "And what options are you choosing from?" Harry gave him a questioning look, and Dumbledore elaborated. "Do you really think you can go without ever knowing your father? Do you think you can live with this, and ignore it? Goodness, Harry, not even he has been able to- and he's better at burying emotion than anyone I know. I am not saying this as a slight, but you allow your feelings to sit on the surface, and you have so much passion that you can't let them go. I think it would destroy you if you were to attempt avoiding all of this- because I know once you make the decision and tell him you want nothing to do with him, you'll regret it, but won't go back."

Dumbledore allowed a moment for his words to sink in before continuing. "I must tell you now that I won't tell either you or Severus my opinions on the matter any further. I will no longer push either one of you; this must be your decision. I will offer you this one last piece of advice, and then consider me forever impartial. Get to know your father, and do it before it is too late. It means a lot, more than you could ever realize, that he approached you. It will be hard- you two have very much history to overcome- but in the end, I think you will be glad you've tried."

"Do you think he wants anything to do with me?" Harry asked, sounding much more childish than he'd wanted to.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, placing his hands upon the boy's shoulders, "He would be a fool not to… and your father is no fool."

xxx End Chapter 21 xxx

Chapter 22

Can I do it?

xxx

It was late that night when Harry finally returned to his dormitory. He and Dumbledore had taken a long time getting up to the castle. Their entire trip had been in silence; Dumbledore had seemed to understand that Harry was busy pondering all he'd just been told.

Trying to absorb everything Dumbledore had said was like trying to eat dessert while stuffed full from dinner. His brain was filled to the brim with information and he was having trouble sorting it all out. His feelings towards Snape were more than conflicted; two opposing arguments were engaged in a full on battle within his mind. He hated Snape on a fundamental level; he was a hateful, spiteful man who had bullied Harry for years, broken his Mother's heart, and denied him the right to a proper family. But now, Harry couldn't ignore the sympathy he felt for Snape; he had suffered immensely throughout his childhood and had sacrificed everything in his adult life in order to right his past mistakes. And in addition to all of this, Harry couldn't deny that he had been wrong about the man in the past. He had saved his life on countless occasions; he had watched over him from a distance throughout all his years at Hogwarts.

Harry had felt brief pity for the man once, but now he felt he could actually understand him. Even more than this, there was a part of him that admired him, as much as he wished to push this thought from his mind.

Harry knew that he was beginning to, in a sense, forgive Snape. And yet, he didn't know that he wanted to. Everything inside of him, all those annoying little voices in the back of his head, were screaming at him to push the concepts of forgiveness and acceptance from his mind… and yet he couldn't quite propel the notion from his thoughts.

Snape hadn't simply hated Harry because of who his father was- he had hated what Harry represented. To Snape, Harry was the very embodiment of everything that had gone wrong in his life. He was the symbol of Lily's betrayal, he was the very image of James Potter, with the same talents, looks, and apparent arrogance, and he received praise and attention for enduring hardships that paled by comparison to Snape's. The man had endured inward suffering for years, and Harry wore it all on the outside, and was, in Snape's view, supported by an entire collection of friends and family for it. Harry had gained everything that he had- his fame and the benefits of it because of his pain- Snape had gained nothing. His jealousy- resentment- bitterness- was understandable.

Perhaps Snape deserved a second chance… but did he truly want it? Was he actually hoping that Harry would come to him? Was that even possible?

And could Harry do it? This was the question annoyingly repeating inside Harry's mind; through all of his thoughts and feelings it was conveyed. He didn't know what to think about it all, and every time he seemed to come up with an option, it was countered by the annoying thought of could he do it?

Harry sank down onto his bed, head falling to his hands as he rubbed his temples in attempt to release the throbbing pain within. He heard Hedwig clucking softly at him from across the room and looked up at her sideways through his fingers; she seemed to take this as a cue of welcome. She gracefully fluttered over to him, dropping a letter in his lap and landing on his shoulder with a playful nip at his ear. He reached up to give her a gentle stroke, offering a weak smile that he knew she couldn't comprehend and then reaching down for the letter she'd just brought him. He ran his finger through the crevice of the envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the parchment it contained. He brightened slightly as he realized it was from Lupin, and his eyes scanned the contents of the letter before reading it thoroughly. It was asking him about his O.W.L.s.

Dear Harry,

I am terribly sorry not to have written sooner, and can only offer the excuse that I have been horribly busy. It has been very difficult to find the time for the basic activities of my everyday life, much less to sit and write letters, and realize when certain ones are due.

How have you been? I understand that there was a minor fiasco earlier this summer that involved Professor Snape, though I'm assured that it was all smoothed over. I trust that you two have worked everything out, am I right? Well, that's hardly the point of this letter. How did your O.W.L.s come out? Are you still considering a career path as an Auror? Sometimes I wonder, Harry, if you'll still want to do that when all is said and done; you may very well be tired of chasing dark wizards by then, having gotten your start so young! I say this with fondness, of course; it is a worthy profession, and you of all people could handle it.

I will be seeing you a bit more this year, with some luck. I can't say much more here, but we shall see.

You should probably know that I was offered the Defense against the Dark Arts position for this year, but turned it down. I thought you might prefer to hear it from me than someone else, and I should explain. I hope you won't feel guilty for my not coming; knowing you, Harry, you would believe me to be angry with you for what happened at the Ministry. But if you have jumped to that conclusion, I am telling you right now that I, in no way, shape, or form, blame you for what happened. Sirius went there by choice, as I hope you realize now. Know that I am here if you have anything you with to talk about, and by all means, welcome your contact. I turned down the position with great regret, in fact, that I would not be seeing you. Moody will be taking the position instead, and I have hopes that his reputation will serve as something of a ward in itself.

I hope you are not upset that I have taken so long in writing, and I do assure you that my response to your next letter will be much swifter.

Write back soon,

Remus J. Lupin

Harry frowned as he refolded the letter and set it aside. Lupin. He hadn't given any consideration to his reaction to Snape being Harry's father, and magnanimous as he was, part of Harry couldn't help but wonder whether he would still look at Harry the same way, knowing he was not the son of James Potter.

With a sinking feeling, Harry concluded that he would have to tell him… but maybe not just yet. Not when he was so unsure of what he himself wanted out of the situation.

But what did he want? Why couldn't he figure this out? If he had been faced with this decision several years ago… without any knowledge of what Snape's life had been like, and with Sirius still in his life, there was no doubt that his choice would have been more easily made. Now, he knew what he wanted to do- his mind kept telling him to ignore all that he'd learned, that Snape didn't deserve compassion… but he wasn't sure if he did feel that way.

What if he never would have felt that way? Come to think of it, Harry realized how very lonely he'd been all his life… come to think of it… Harry would have welcomed anyone willing to play the role of father in his life, and would have been overjoyed to have a true family member to take that place. And part of him still felt that way… part of him still wondered if it wouldn't be worth it, getting to know Snape… maybe…

He was so torn; he had dreamed of having a family since his days as a small child, and yet, time and time, he'd sworn hatred against the malevolent Potions Master. It would have been so much easier if Snape hadn't explained everything, offering some sort of silent truce. It would have been so much easier if Dumbledore hadn't told him the long story of Snape's painful past, which made it difficult to bear the idea of hurting the man anymore. It would have been so much easier if Snape hadn't loved his Mother, Lily… it would have been easier, but it wasn't. Harry was being tormented by his past grievances with the man, and yet he couldn't help but feel that the rest of the circumstances overshadowed those said injustices.

Maybe Snape did deserve a chance… but could Harry give it to him?

Could Harry ever answer that question?

xxx

It wasn't until the next morning, on the way down to the Great Hall, when Harry's head had cleared that he realized how very like his father he was beginning to think. He had never thought of forgiveness as something one must earn- and yet, here he was, contemplating whether or not to make a man suffer for his past wrongdoings, despite his present regret; battling his will to allow him clemency. It wasn't right… it wasn't like him… and did he really want to end up like Snape?

"Potter!" called a crisp, tense voice from inside the doors of the great hall, giving Harry a start. Harry looked up to see McGonagall standing there, beckoning impatiently for him to come.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, walking towards her. He hoped she would provide some sort of distraction from his thoughts… he had a feeling he had been contemplating them for far too long.

"We're preparing the school for tonight's arrivals," McGonagall said, turning and heading towards the staff table, where several other teachers were going over lists of tasks and delegating them accordingly. "I thought perhaps it would be good for you to engage in something productive and help us decorate the Great Hall."

"Decorate?" Harry asked, looking around. This seemed so unlike his strict, no nonsense Professor, asking him to decorate. He couldn't recall there being festive décor in the prior years of his coming there.

"Yes, Potter, decorate," Professor McGonagall said, looking up at him over the parchment she had been scanning. "The tables need to be set with the cloths, the House crests and flags must be strung. Professor Snape is already taking care of the staff table and Slytherin apparel, while Flitwick assists him and does the Ravenclaw. You are here to put up Gryffindor representation; I have a fair few things to do, and can hardly find the time…"

Harry hadn't realized his eyes were widened, but quickly remedied this as he did. "Right," he said faintly, shaking his head. "Well, perhaps I could do something else for you? I would hate to make a mess of something which will be so public-"

"No, Potter, this will do," McGonagall answered him. "Professor Snape is already putting the finishing touch on the Slytherin table, you can ask him to show you how to do it."

"Er- Professor Snape?" Harry questioned, and quickly regretted speaking as a look of comprehension graced McGonagall's features.

"If it's him you're worrying about," McGonagall said, raising her eyebrows, "I'm going to tell you once and for all to move past it. He is your Professor, and at your age you should realize you must treat him with respect even if the two of you can't see eye to eye."

"Yes, I know," Harry grumbled, wishing he could explain himself.

McGonagall gave a small nod. "Good," she said. "And Potter, don't make us look bad," she added with a gesture towards the Gryffindor hangings and nodding subtly towards the Slytherin table, which was mostly completed.

Harry watched her leave, not wanting to turn around. He could almost feel black eyes boring into his back- he knew Snape was standing there, watching him. He was getting used to the fact that he seemed to pop up at the most inopportune moments, unnoticed and quiet until he wished to be otherwise. Harry stayed frozen for half a minute; he expected Snape to say something. He didn't quite know what, but it just seemed that he would have some comment to make… and yet, as moments passed, no sound came from behind him. Snape was choosing to remain silent.

Harry turned around almost mechanically; his unease was blatantly obvious. Snape quickly turned his eyes to the table in front of him, making what Harry could tell was quite a show of fixing the black velvet tablecloth draped across it.

Severus smoothed out the cloth on the table, his eyes closed in a wince that he hoped Harry wasn't noticing. He couldn't explain the strange feeling he'd felt when Harry had turned and caught him watching - it had never used to bother him. In fact, he had once enjoyed the visible anxiety it caused Harry; he had relished the fact that his very gaze made the boy quell with fear. Now, however, he wondered whether this was a good thing… no… he knew it wasn't a good thing. This was his son, and to be in the same room with him made the boy uncomfortable- scared, even. He wasn't sure why this bothered him so much… perhaps because it was a painful reminder of the fact that Lily had felt the same way.

Harry quietly inspected the man before him. His face was devoid of the malice and darkness it usually portrayed. His expression reflected something deeper, something more meaningful- humanity. As simple as the trace of pain and worry on Snape's face was, it brought out the man hidden behind the stone façade. And despite all of Harry's previous thoughts- all his feelings of hate, anger, bitterness and betrayal, he found a dull ache within him that was undeniably a yearning for… well, it was a yearning, but for what Harry had no idea.

Severus opened his eyes, and lifted his brows from the pained grimace they had been furrowed in. He looked up at the boy, and was not surprised to find that his startlingly green gaze was fixed intently upon him. And yet, though he knew what was lingering on the boy's mind, though he knew now was the most opportune time of all to speak to him, the promise he'd made to leave it up to Harry would not leave the premises of his thoughts. He cast around for something to say- anything which would stop him from continuing in the reflection of his own thoughts, something to make it apparent that he was not ignoring Harry, but rather holding true to his vow.

"The Gryffindor banners are lying over there," Severus said mildly, after a moment. He was careful to keep his voice casual- a subtle acknowledgement of their changed situation, and yet on the passive side, not steering the conversation. "It's really very simple to do-"

He turned to the Slytherin table, where the banners were already neatly laid down the length of it, and gave his wand a small flick at each one. They lined up in a row along the ceiling, and Severus turned back to Harry.

"We've been doing this for years- they just require the flick of the wand. They do the rest on their own."

"Hmm," Harry murmured, turning towards the Gryffindor table and beginning to align the banners as they would be positioned on the ceiling. He was relieved that Snape had set the atmosphere at a more comfortable level. "If it's such a simple task, then why am I needed to do it?"

"Are you too far above such menial tasks? Why should you laze about the castle while the rest prepare-"

"I wasn't complaining," Harry objected, looking Snape straight in the eyes. "I was just wondering why I'd be asked to do such simple tasks when there are other things that I could be of more help doing. You always jump to the worst conclusion about me." Harry turned back to the banners he was straightening, with a noticeable jerk now present in his motions.

Severus was slightly taken aback at Harry's tone with him. He hadn't shouted, but he'd put his point across. and though he had controlled his temper, his anger was obvious in the way he went about his job with hard, jagged motions. No- the difference in Harry now seemed to be tolerance… he was tolerating Severus… and that was a surprise exceptional to all others.

"I'm-" Severus stopped, his mouth open, trying to form the words. Harry turned around and looked at him in question.

"You're what?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

Severus raised his eyebrow, and for a fleeting moment, he was reminded distinctly of Lily. Harry was standing there, in an angry position with a fierce look on his face, and yet there was no true loathing in his expression- only strength. It took Severus a moment to realize he was actually admiring his… his son. It took him another moment to regain his composure as he remembered their conversation.

"I'm sorry," Severus said grudgingly, averting his eyes and allowing his arms to fall against his sides.

"You're… sorry," Harry repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes.

"Must I spell it out for you?" Severus remarked dryly.

Both went back to fiddling with the decorations unnecessarily. After a long pause, Harry finally turned back to Snape, determined to see this conversation through.

"Listen, I just need to know. What do you want from all of this?" Harry asked quietly, resting one hand on the table behind him for support and watching his... his father closely.

Severus stayed silent for a moment, contemplating his response. Finally, he settled on the very conclusion he and Dumbledore had come up with in his office.

"I don't want to wonder what if," he said quietly, nodding as though to reassure himself of his answer. "And I don't think you do either."

Harry stared at Snape, only blinking. Was Snape right? Did Harry really want to spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he'd made the harder choice? Was there a chance that this could turn out for the better, instead of the worst?

"And if I tell you I want to try this," Harry said, "you're not going to back out? You're one hundred percent positive that you can handle my decision?"

"If I wasn't," said Severus with a slightly coy smirk, "Do you really think I would have placed the choice in the hands of an imbecile like yourself?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was torn between a smile and a frown, and the result was an awkward mix of the two. Snape raised his eyebrows, as if to say, "Good point, yes?" and then looked up at something, his expression instantly changing. Harry looked at him for another moment, and then, following his gaze he turned to see a large group of people heading towards the doors to the hall. They were his friends: Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

He looked back around at Snape, who gave him a curt nod and swept away. Harry's stomach sank slightly; he had almost been hoping that he and Snape could have reached some sort of agreement right then. At least it would feel a bit more mutual, not like his deciding what to do and then running off to inform Snape of his plan.

He could hear them entering the hall now, so with some effort, he forced a smile onto his face as he turned to greet them.

"What are you all doing here? I wasn't expecting you until this evening!"

"We came by floo," Ron answered him. "Stepped right out of the fireplace into Gryffindor tower!"

"Mum reckoned it wasn't safe to be on the Hogwarts express with You-Know-Who out in the open now," Ginny explained further.

"Funny," said Harry, "Dumbledore said something similar when I arrived here. Of course, the train probably would have been safer than-" Harry stopped mid-sentence, realizing suddenly that he hadn't told a single soul about his kidnapping from the Astronomy tower, and from his friends' casual manner, Harry guessed Dumbledore hadn't either.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted him when he failed to finish his sentence, standing there with his mouth hanging open. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Harry answered, a bit too quickly, and three pairs of eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I mean..." Harry lowered his voice and looked around. He knew at once that he would have to tell Ron and Hermione- Ginny, too, now that he thought of it. "Listen, I have to tell you guys something, but not here..."

His friends glanced around the Great Hall and to one another conspiratorially. "Let's go to the common room," Hermione suggested at once, but just a minute too late.

"My prefects have arrived! Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall was calling briskly as she swished into the hall. "Here, I've a list of things for you to check before the first years get here. Ah, Miss Weasley; come along, I'll find you some work as well." Harry exchanged a miserable look with the three of them as McGonagall then exclaimed, "Potter! That banner is on crooked! If I have to listen to one cross word from Professor Snape about our table..."

"I'm on it, Professor," Harry answered at once, inwardly cursing. He would just have to wait until after the feast.

xxx

At a quarter to six, Filch escorted the four Gryffindors down to the school carriages that were waiting by the gates. In order to avoid attracting unnecessary attention, their arrivals were to be staged as ordinary as everyone else's. Harry tried to get far ahead of Filch so that he could tell them his story without him overhearing, but the old caretaker was determined to stay right on their tails and Harry's efforts for privacy were completely futile.

Soon after they had climbed into a carriage, the rest of the student body began filtering through and choosing theirs as well. Before long, they were set in motion, on their way up to the castle.

"I reckon it's safe to talk now, Harry," Ron said quietly as they jostled along with the movement of the carriage.

But Harry was not sure that now was the best time to talk. Not now, when they were on their way to the welcome feast, where everyone would be excitedly catching up on the events of the summer and making predictions for the year to come. "I don't know-"

"Oh, come on, Harry!" interjected Ginny. "We won't have time along again for who knows how long. Out with it."

"They're right, Harry," Hermione was saying, "If you want to talk, better to do it now..."

"Okay," Harry said in a hushed voice, even though he doubted anyone outside the carriage would be able to hear. "Let's just say Voldemort- oh, you're fine Ron- didn't wait very long this year to try and get his hands on me." A mixture of gasps exchanged his three friends, and he continued. "I went up to the Astronomy tower for a bit of fresh air, one night..."

When Harry had finished telling his story, each of his friends looked to be in a different type of shock. Ron was muttering curse words under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Ginny was frowning deeply, staring at Harry as though he were in mortal danger even as they spoke. Hermione looked as though she were adding things up in her head, calculating something.

"I thought Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban," said Ginny after a moment.

"I did as well," Harry replied, "but he must have been let out. It's certainly been kept quiet, hasn't it?"

"Everything's been kept quiet," Hermione responded, glowering. "The Ministry doesn't want people talking about its blunder, does it? Everything in the paper now is about saving face, making it seem as though they're the reason that things have been quiet... but I think Voldemort- for goodness' sakes, Ron- has been biding his time. Now that we know what he's been plotting for Harry, his lack of action certainly makes a lot more sense..."

Their carriage came to a stop and so did their conversation. As they were ushered into the great hall, the greetings began. All around them, girls were giggling and meeting their friends, boys were exchanging stories of summertime adventures... but Harry and the others were pushing silently through the crowd, looking for a seat at Gryffindor table. They found one not too far from the front and sat down, exchanging furtive glances at one another. Harry felt guilty for having ruined their mood for the welcome feast.

"Harry!" called a familiar voice. Harry turned to see Neville Longbottom trying desperately to push his way through the crowd to join them. Harry moved his bag off of the seat next to him and motioned for Neville to sit down.

"I looked for you on the train," said Neville as he climbed over the bench, "but I couldn't find you."

'"Sorry, Neville, couldn't take the train," Harry said in a low voice, glancing around furtively.

"You're not the only one," Neville responded. "It was a bit emptier than usual. My Gran said some people wouldn't want their children returning, knowing what's happening, but she reckons Hogwarts is the safest place there is..."

Harry nodded and looked around the the Great Hall, but in the flurry of people looking for places at their tables, he couldn't immediately spot any missing faces. He turned back to his friends, who were making light conversation, unable to talk about what they'd discussed in the carriage.

"Well," Hermione was saying to Ron, "I'm going to be spending my free periods in the library of course, not that I've got many-"

"You would, Hermione," Ron said, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. "You've got nothing better to do."

"Oh, pardon me!" Hermione huffed. "And I suppose obsessing over the three-point difference in a game of Quidditch for two weeks straight is something better to do? You're one to talk."

Ron glared. "It was the Chudley Cannons and it was important," he said slowly, as though spelling it out. "Not that I'd expect you to understand. If they'd won that game-"

"But they didn't, Ron," Ginny said, sounding very bored, as if they'd already been over this a million times. "So get over it, please, for the last time."

Ginny stared at her brother in challenge for a moment, but Ron seemed to resign himself to his defeat as he crossed his arms and looked crossly back and forth between the two girls. She turned back to Harry. "Well," she the said, smirking, "you haven't missed much."

Harry couldn't resist a laugh. He only wished he could say the same to her.

At this, he glanced briefly up to the head table and caught sight of Snape sitting there, clearly trying to ignore the conversation happening between Professors Sprout and McGonagall, who were sitting on either side and leaning around him to speak. With a pang, Harry realized that this was one thing he could not yet tell his friends. Would they look at him differently, he wondered? Would it change the way everyone looked at him? No, he couldn't think about such dilemmas right now. He needed first to decide what he was going to do about the situation.

His attention was drawn away from Snape as Dumbledore rose to welcome everyone and announce that the sorting was about to begin.

And though there had been no deep conversations of huge emotional magnitude, no sudden revelations to strike Harry, no nerves touched, he couldn't help but spend the entire Sorting Hat's song and Dumbledore's speech thinking about what to do with the issue of his father. He had to talk to him… but he couldn't drag himself down to Snape's office, and he knew that. He knew he would end up turning back, or saying something completely different than he had planned. Snape did that to him… or at least, he had in the past. His eyes flickered up to the staff table, desperate and sad, and he saw that Snape was watching him as well. But this time, neither man looked away. Their eyes held contact for just a brief moment, and Harry hoped in that instant that perhaps Snape was reading the look on his face… perhaps he would know that Harry wanted to talk to him, and… but no; Snape was never that intuitive. The only emotions he usually noticed were guilt, fear, and arrogance. Even if he understood how Harry felt, he wouldn't act on it. The hall broke into applause as hat declared, "Ravenclaw!" and both their gazes fell.

Severus sat at the head table, watching intently the range of emotions sliding on and off Harry's face. It almost seemed as if he were asking something of him… was it that he was finally ready to tell Severus his decision? Was he too afraid to approach him on his own? Perhaps he ought seek him out, question him about his thoughts… but no, if he were wrong, he would only be breaking his own promise to leave the situation in Harry's hands. Then again, it would be so like Harry to resent him for not taking action. Somehow, their lack of confrontation would eventually be twisted into the fault of Severus'. If he was right, maybe this was a good opportunity to work on his ways of dealing with the child, and show Harry that he was doing his best.

And yet, he wasn't doing his best. He had no special connection to the boy, and for some reason, he still saw him as "Harry Potter," every time he looked at him. Yet… out of duty to his wife, and a small desire to know his son, he was going to have to attempt to make amends with Harry… no matter how difficult.

The food was served, and Severus noticed that Harry avoided his gaze for the rest of the meal, keeping his eyes fixed intently on the plate in front of him, or occupying himself with unenthused conversation with his friends. Severus waited until he'd seemingly eaten to his full, and then rose from his own seat, dismissing himself from the staff table.

The walk to Gryffindor table seemed such a long one, and Severus had to repress a flicker of annoyance at his own unease. Here he was, a grown man nearing forty, and his heart was beating out of his chest from apprehension about approaching a sixteen-year-old boy. He'd stood in the Dark Lord's presence and felt little more than anxiety in the worst of times, and this young Gryffindor had his stomach tied in knots of doubt and hesitation.

Neville was the first to notice Snape coming towards the table, and he immediately let out a small squeak and elbowed Harry in the side. Harry looked at his friend, and Neville shifted his eyes towards Snape, who had now come to a halt in front of the Gryffindor table, and was glaring darkly at the children before him.

Harry looked up at him, dropping his fork to his plate, and waited.

"Potter," Severus said in a low voice. He did not nod or give any perceptible sign of change in his demeanor, but the lack of malice in his voice was enough to tell Harry he wasn't in trouble.

"Sir," Harry responded, trying to ignore the questioning looks on his friends' faces.

"You and I need to speak about remedial potions," Severus said, and Harry knew, with instant relief, that Snape had picked up on his desire to speak with him. Severus clenched his teeth, his face full of annoyance as he said, "Unsurprisingly, your Head of House has come to your rescue once again, and so I must request that you come to my office at this time. Of course, if you cannot sacrifice a meal for this, as she seems so worried about, I have another free block of time during your Quidditch tryouts. I'm sure," he sneered, "That your position on the team has been secured, regardless of how unworthy you may become of it."

Harry looked at him for a moment, rose from the table, dropping his napkin atop his plate. "Now would be fine," he mumbled, following his Professor out of the hall.

They had come to the corridor leading to Snape's office, and Harry was quite sure they were alone now.

"You knew," Harry said quietly, looking up at the Potions Master.

Severus stopped outside his door and looked at Harry. "I knew what, Potter?"

Harry looked up at him, a mildly surprised expression on his face, and then looked away. Did he know? Had Harry just made a fool of himself, and would he worsen it by elaborating?

Seeing the worried expression on the teenager's face, Severus sighed and allowed his hard expression to relent. "That you wanted to speak with me?" Harry looked back to him, nodding. "Yes, I knew," he said, opening his door.

Harry exhaled lightly and followed Snape into the office, shutting the door behind him. Snape did not sit, but rather, walked about halfway into the room and then turned to face his son.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, almost impressedly.

"I can read minds, remember?" Severus said with an ironic smirk. Harry smiled. Then Severus shook his head. "No, it wasn't difficult to figure out; you're not so hard to understand."

Harry gave him an odd look, and then said, "You're the first person to say that."

The things said which carry the most significance are often the things that are most difficult to analyze the importance of. For Severus, this was one of those moments. He didn't know why those words had such an impact on either one of them, but they did. In some way, both parties realized that it was some form of thank you, some kind of gratefulness.

"Ahh," Severus said in a sort of shocked acknowledgement, raising his eyebrows… for he didn't know what else to say.

xxx end chapter xxx

Chapter 23

Some Sort of Understanding

xxx

"I've been thinking a lot about all of this," Harry said, moving around the edge of the room as he spoke. "I'd be lying if I said a lot of really dark thoughts haven't been through my head in the process. But it turns out you were right…" He turned and looked at Snape for a moment, and said, "I don't want to wonder what if."

Severus looked at him for a moment. He didn't know what to do with this; all of a sudden, the boy was opening up to him. He wasn't pouring his heart out, no, but it was a step. What was Severus supposed to do? Was the boy expecting some sort of wonderful father, a happy family? The home Severus had grown up in was little of an example- could he possibly give Harry something better? "You realize," he said, "that I have no idea what I'm doing."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I realize that," he said, and the corners of Snape's mouth twitched, as though he too understood the irony of the statement.

"And you understand," Severus continued, "how hard old habits are to break. I can't promise you that my effort to change will always be evident… but I can promise you that it will be there."

"So I'll just have to take your word for it?" Harry said slowly, studying Snape carefully. In all truth, he wasn't sure how he would be able to do this. He wasn't sure if he would be able to simply tolerate the old Snape… but then, something did seem different now. Maybe it was because of his newfound understanding… or maybe not.

"Yes," said Severus very seriously. "And you'll have to tell me when I'm not doing things right, because I won't know."

"And you're not going to get angry with me for that?" Harry asked doubtfully. Somehow, he couldn't picture him telling Snape that he was being a bad father and having the man simply accept it.

"I might," said Severus. "But since when do you care whether or not I'm angry with you?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I do find it's generally best to avoid incurring your wrath."

"You're not wrong," Severus said, smirking at Harry in a way that almost constituted fondness. Now that he was actually talking to the boy, all bitter feelings put aside, he could see the underlying sense of humor that so closely resembled his own. He paused, and then said in as normal a tone as he could manage, "But you can tell me… I suppose I'll calm down and realize eventually that you're right. Or maybe I'll realize you're wrong; depends on how rational your qualm with me is."

He was surprised at how much easier it was to get those words out in a normal way, now that they were on the same level.

"No mind control, then?" Harry asked, smiling.

"No, afraid not," Severus responded. "Though, the atrocity of your Occlumency skills suggests to me that you wouldn't be too adept in the field anyways."

"I've grown better!" Harry said defensively, frowning. "You have to admit, I've grown better."

Severus looked him up and down a moment, and then, relenting, said, "Yes, you have improved."

Harry looked a bit taken aback… and in fact, he hadn't expected Snape to admit this. He gave him a half smile as he said, "Thank you."

Severus gave him an odd look, and then nodded before turning around to walk towards his desk. It was strange; the boy was so… sincere- more so than he would have expected. He took a seat, and they looked again at each other, each seemingly lost in thought for little more than two seconds.

"You should be going," Severus said after a moment, his voice more soft than usual. "Your friends will be wondering what I've done with you."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, they will be." He turned to leave, and then stopped again. "Can we still… can we keep this quiet, for just a little while?"

Severus nodded. "I believe that would be the wise choice. While the Dark Lord is still at large, anyways, it would be best to behave as though nothing has changed."

Harry couldn't keep the look on his face from falling. Did this mean that Snape was still going to treat him as horrid as ever in Potion's class? Did this still mean that he had to fear running into the teacher in the corridor?

"We'll both know," said Severus, seeming to know what Harry was thinking. "To the rest of the world, we'll be the same as ever, but we'll both know that things are changing."

Harry looked up at him, seemingly struggling with an inward debate. Finally, he settled on saying, "You're easier to talk to than I would have thought."

Snape gave him a vague smile, and Harry added, "How?"

Severus thoughtfully put his chin atop his hands, and said, "I just ask myself what your mother would say. She always had a way with words."

Harry looked down, mostly to hide the look he knew had flown onto his face. It was so strange hearing Snape refer to Lily as, "your mother." Even stranger was the fact that he was almost referring to Harry as… something of a son.

Harry looked back up at him and nodded. "Goodnight, sir," he said.

Severus hesitated for a moment before saying, "Goodnight, Harry."

For the first time since he'd come to Hogwarts, Harry left Snape's office with a small smile on his face.

xxx

As Harry found himself face to face with the Fat Lady's portrait, inquiring of him the password, he realized that he had no plan for how to deal with his friends. It was hard to determine the way he would react to certain things they might say, since his current mood was a bit ambiguous. He had felt strangely resolved as he'd left Snape's office, and though there was still much to learn about the man, and much for the man to learn about him, the lines of communication seemed much more open… perhaps there was room to work on building some sort of relationship.

But now he was faced with a multitude of new- or old, however one may look at it- relationships, ones he hadn't given much thought to in the past few weeks. He could only hope for the best in facing them- he could only hope that no touchy subjects would come up… but then, knowing the capacity his friends had for empathy, this wasn't a very reasonable hope.

"Runespoor," Harry muttered quietly, drawing a breath to prepare himself for his entry to the common room.

The portrait swung open. The moment Harry had entered the tower, the four bright faces of his Gryffindor friends immediately turned in his direction, each of their laughing faces only wrinkling more into cheery smiles.

"Harry!" Ron called, waving him over. Harry put on what he hoped was a pleasant smile and headed in their directions.

"What did Snape say?" Neville asked as soon as Harry sat down. Harry looked just in time to catch Hermione casting a reproachful look in his direction; he was almost certain she had warned them not to bring it up.

"Oh, you know," Harry said, managing a chuckle, and instantly cringing at how false it sounded. "Same as always." He straightened his face and attempted an impression of the Potions Master's deep and angry voice, "If you waste my time this year, I will…" he rolled his eyes. "So on, so forth."

Hermione looked as though she wished to scold Harry for mocking a professor, but she stayed resolutely silent. Ron looked for a moment as though he were going to say something, but when not one, but two glares from both girls of the party flew in his direction, his expression relented, and he resumed his earlier conversation of Quidditch. This led Harry to be even more curious about what they had spoken of while he was gone, but he didn't challenge it. He was much more thankful to listen to his best friend's chatter on the topic of Quidditch, even though it had been exhausted today, than he was to the more sensitive alternatives.

Harry listened for a while to the banter between his friends. As soon as he had stayed long enough not to seem rude, he excused himself to write his letter to Lupin, bidding them all goodnight. They watched him go in a bit of confusion at his early withdrawal from the conversation but raised no objections.

Sitting in his room, with quill poised against the clean parchment, Harry couldn't quite think what to write. Should he start with a topic addressed by Lupin in his last letter? Yes, that seemed to be a good beginning…

Dear Professor Lupin,

I know you've been very busy, so any letter you have time to write me is great. I'm happy to hear from you.

I hope you're doing alright. My visit this summer was so brief that I had little time to catch up with anyone other than Ron and Hermione. I sometimes feel a little out of touch with everything that is going on, but I guess it's a necessary measure, especially when most of the contact we have is through the post.

My summer since leaving the Dursleys' has been rather eventful, but I am doing well, all things considered.

Here Harry paused, giving some final consideration to a thought which had been stowing away in the back of his mind for some time now. He had a feeling that if there was anybody to understand… anyone who would speak to him with only his best interests at heart, it was Lupin. But would he feel differently, knowing the facts which Harry was considering sharing with him? Did he base his friendship with Harry on the fact that James was Harry's father?

With small hope that none of this was true, Harry wrote on.

Much of what I would like to tell you right now can hardly be written in a letter, but I could certainly use a trustworthy person to talk to. Hopefully I will be able to see you sometime soon. There is so much to catch up on. I should warn you that some of what I have to tell you might come as a bit of a shock. I just want you to be prepared. If you cannot write me back immediately or make it to Hogwarts, I understand, but I'll be happy to see you if you can come.

Sincerely,

Harry

Harry sat back to inspect his work, and feeling that it was as good as it was going to get, he folded it and put it in an envelope addressed to Lupin. He was surprised to see that Hedwig had not made her way down to the school Owlery, but he was nevertheless grateful as he tied his message to her left leg and sent her on her way. He remained by the window for just a moment, watching her small, white form disappear into the clear night, and then climbed into his warm bed. Not two minutes later, he heard footsteps coming towards his room, and he pulled the maroon hangings shut before anyone could intrude on his thoughts.

xxx

"It looks like we've got double Defense against the Dark Arts first," said Hermione while Harry and Ron finished their breakfasts. "Followed by Charms in the afternoon. You two will have about an hour's break before lunch, but I'll be in Arithmancy. Well, you two will be able to get started on the homework together..."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, but remained quiet. They would not be spending their first free period doing homework, that was for certain.

"Wonder what it'll be like having the real Mad-Eye Moody for a change," Ron wondered aloud as breakfast came to a close and they began moving slowly with the crowd of students heading towards the doors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were among the last students to arrive in the classroom, and as they looked for seats, Harry overheard his fellow students speculating on the identity of the new Defense teacher. He smiled and exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione; it was not the first time that they knew something their classmates did not.

A few stray Ravenclaws filtered in just moments before the bell rang, and the class waited in hushed anticipation. A moment later, the door at the back of the classroom opened, and the few whispers around the room came to a sudden halt. At the back of the room stood Professor Snape, glaring around at all of them.

Harry blinked several times as the man robed in black strode past his desk towards the front of the room. When he'd reached the desk, he placed several labeled vials atop it, and bent down to write something on a parchment lying there. He seemed to become aware of the fact that twenty pairs of eyes were on him, because he slowly lifted his hooded gaze to the class, a smirk forming around his lips.

"Never fear," Snape intoned, looking satisfied at stirring such a reaction, "Your teacher is on his way. I would say better late than never, but all things considered..."

At that very moment, the door opened and the room resonated with the rising and falling clunk of Moody's unmistakable wooden leg hitting the floor as he limped up the aisle between the desks. The class turned to gaze at him in astonishment, and Snape straightened, a look of displeasure coming over his features.

"Professor Moody," Snape said in way of greeting, though it was clear from his tone that he was not at all happy to see him. "How good of you to join us. I was beginning to wonder if I'd need to teach the class for you."

"Aye, I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Moody snarled as he reached the front of the classroom. Then, leaning in close, added, "Of course, the Headmaster might not. But I hear Potions is keeping you out of trouble... tamed, they say you are... though I don't know if I believe it."

Everyone else in the classroom was looking around at each other; to them, it seemed that Snape and Moody were simply whispering at each other at the front of the room. To Harry, however, who was sitting directly in front of them, could hear every word and found himself hoping for Snape's sake that he would not rise to the bait.

"Perhaps you'd like to stop by my office one day to test just how tame I really am, Professor Moody," Snape sneered.

Moody's normal eye narrowed, making his electric blue one seem even more bizarre. "I think you'd better be gettin' along now, Snape, before this conversation heads somewhere you don't like."

"I was just thinking the same thing," said Snape evenly, as he straightened his shoulders and glared down his nose at Moody. "After all, you've a class to be getting on with. Perhaps you should start by teaching them how to refrain from getting locked in their own trunks for the duration of the school year. Yes, I think that would be a fitting first lesson..."

Moody made a sudden movement as though to strike Snape, but then thought better of it. Far from being intimidated, the corner of Snape's mouth curled into a triumphant smirk. He then turned his gaze to the classroom and announced, "Well, I shall leave you all in Professor Moody's capable-" he aimed one last pointed look of doubt in Moody's direction, "-hands. Good luck to all of you."

He then departed; Moody's eye visibly turned to follow him, all the way out the door and down the corridor beyond. Their new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher appeared, moments later, unshaken, as he turned to speak to them.

"Dark Wizards," he began, "are all around…"

xxx

"It was amazing, Ginny," Ron was saying later that night as they sat in the common room, relating their experiences of the day. "Moody stared him down, and Snape just left... wish they would have dueled, though."

"Moody would have won," Neville said, seemingly visualizing it by the dreamy smile on his face.

"I don't know about that," Hermione disagreed, shaking her head.

Ron wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes acrimoniously. "Yeah, but Moody's been fighting Dark Wizards all his life, and he's still not been done in-"

"But look at the state he's in," Hermione returned. She waved Ron off as he opened his mouth to argue that point, saying, "But it's of no matter. The fact is, they shouldn't have even been saying such things in front of the whole class. Unprofessional, really."

"Snape shouldn't have provoked him," Ron said, settling back in his chair, as though that settled it.

"…But, did he?"

All eyes turned to Harry in shock, and he met their gazes not realizing of how odd this sounded coming from him. "Really, who provoked who?"

"Are you feeling alright, mate?" asked Ron.

"I'm just saying maybe you should lay off him, that's all," Harry snapped, but instantly regretted it when shock registered on each of his friends' faces. Feeling suddenly as though he should have kept his mouth shut, Harry simply shrugged and looked down a his homework. He wished they could just avoid the topic of Snape.

There was a moment of awkward silence, which Ginny broke. "Right, well… it's late, I should be getting off to bed…"

"Me too," Neville said a little too quickly, jumping up from his seat.

"Neville, your staircase is over there..." Ginny corrected him as he started to follow her, appearing flustered.

"Oh, right.." And Neville crossed the common room quickly looking quite red-faced.

"What's up with you?" Ron asked peevishly as soon as they had gone, and Harry sighed; he had been hoping they could drop the argument.

"Maybe Harry's just finally given up bashing Snape after he's just saved his life again," said Hermione in Harry's defense.

Harry felt a rush of gratitude for Hermione and quickly agreed, "Sorry, Ron- I know you weren't here when all of that happened. But... he helped me a lot... I just think it's a poor way to repay him, speaking poorly of him-"

"Yeah, and when's that ever stopped you before?" asked Ron, who clearly wasn't buying it. "I mean, Snape's a git, there's no arguing that point. Right?"

"Yeah, sure Ron," Harry muttered, feeling his face growing hot with frustration. "You know, I think I'll go to bed too."

Hermione shot Ron a reproving look and mouthed the words, "drop it", but it was too late. Harry didn't want to continue a conversation where he could so easily say too much.

"I'll see you guys in the morning," Harry said as he slung his bag over his shoulders and headed for the dormitory stairs, pretending not to hear Hermione and Ron's hushed arguing about him as he went.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 24

Near and Dear

xxx

Severus and Moody sat at opposite ends of the table for breakfast the next morning. Severus glared fiercely down at his plate, chewing on his meat with far more vigor than was needed. Moody suspiciously watched his every movement, with no effort to make his scrutiny inconspicuous- his eyes even followed the motions of the other man's hand as he reached for another serving of eggs, as though the way in which he spooned them onto his plate might give away some secret motivation concealed within.

The silent battle between the two seemed to prolong breakfast more than usual, but finally, fifteen minutes after half the staff was gone from the table, Moody pushed his chair back, finished with his meal. The Potions Master allowed his dark, flashing gaze to follow him out the hall as he limped along, but Moody paid him no heed.

Severus waited a short while, drumming his fingers on the table beside his plate. He didn't want to make his way out into the entrance hall just yet, as he knew Moody was liable to still be there - his wooden leg didn't exactly make for speedy travel. Finally satisfied that he was clear of this danger several minutes later, Severus excused himself from the table. He made his way into the entrance hall, unprepared for the scene that was to greet him there.

Moody had not yet made it up to his classroom; he had clearly become distracted, Severus observed, as he currently had what appeared to be a pile of tattered robes pinned against the cold stone floor. But no, Severus realized as he walked toward the scene. The pile of robes was in fact Remus Lupin, and Moody was pointing his wand down at him, breathing heavily, and muttering about 'imposters' and 'criminals' under his breath, while Lupin struggled below him.

"Moody," Severus called almost lazily, strolling up to the scene. He'd said before that he would prefer this crazy old man to Lupin; he had been wrong. "May I ask for what reason you are harassing Mr. Lupin?"

Moody's back had been turned to him, and he seemed a bit caught off guard as he turned and looked at Snape in surprise. He quickly recovered himself, righting his expression to a dark frown. "I had no reports that we were to have visitors today… I have reason to believe that he is, in fact, an enemy of Dumbledore's, sent here with plans to infiltrate the school."

Severus looked at him blankly for a moment, then to Lupin, whose expression was that of pained annoyance. "Reassuring though it is to know that we've a highly paranoi—Oh, I beg your pardon, vigilant—Auror guarding the castle, since the wards so often fail," he added sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "I don't think the Headmaster would appreciate-"

"Well, Snape, why don't you just worry about your own opinions of what Dumbledore would appreciate, eh? I doubt he appreciated when you took the Dark Mark, but that didn't stop you from-"

Severus whipped out his wand, brandishing it with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "How dare you?"

The curse on Lupin was suddenly lifted as Moody whirled to point his wand at the darker man before him, matching his fierce expression. "You really think you could win in a duel against me, Snape?"

"I-"

"It is fortunate that we will never find out!" the sound of a deep, powerful voice filled the corridor, followed by resounding bang of the Great Hall's doors as they slammed shut. The three men present in the entrance hallway had turned at that moment to see Dumbledore, striding quickly towards them, blue eyes ablaze. "Perhaps, gentlemen, the next time you wish to settle such a dispute," he said in the same authorative voice, though lower in volume, "you should take care to do so in private."

Neither man responded for a moment. They hadn't really realized the entire Great Hall had been able to watch the display of events from their seats. Dumbledore looked back and forth between them. "Well, have you no explanation?"

Both opened their mouths, but Severus beat Moody to speaking first. "I do apologize, Headmaster," he said in a tone that convinced no one, especially considering the mocking smirk playing across his lips. "I personally was as shocked as you are now to stumble upon Moody assaulting Mr. Lupin in so harsh a manner. I was simply doing my part in ensuring that no one was harmed."

Dumbledore brought his gaze from Moody and Lupin to Severus, and looked unconvincingly over his spectacles at him. "I highly doubt those were your true motivations, Severus," he said calmly.

"That hurts," Severus said flatly, quirking an eyebrow.

Dumbledore turned to Lupin, ignoring Severus' comment. "Remus, so good to see you,' he said in a far more friendly tone, shaking the man's hand. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Lupin gave him an odd, questioning look, glancing back at Severus and Moody, who were both now glaring at Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave him a barely perceptible shake of the head and waved his hand subtly as though to say, 'I'll deal with them later.'

"Ah," Lupin responded to Dumbledore's expression, understanding. "Well, I'm... I'm here to see Harry, actually. I received a letter from him a few days ago and it sounded urgent..." Lupin broke off; he seemed to have caught the alarmed glances that Dumbledore and Snape had exchanged at this information.

"Really?" Dumbledore asked curiously. "Well, I'm sure he will be glad to see you..."

"Headmaster, I think we should not forget that Potter has classes to attend this morning," Snape said coldly, glancing at Lupin. "Surely his education is more important than a social call." Severus aimed a pointed glance in Dumbledore's direction, hoping that he too had thought of the possible reasons for Harry's letter and understood that this was a bid for time. Lupin, for his part, was looking frustrated with Severus' interference, but the Potions Master resolutely ignored his gaze.

"Awfully concerned with Potter's schedule, there, aren't you Snape?" Moody growled from behind Dumbledore.

"Yes," Severus replied through gritted teeth; the old man was not making this any easier, that was for certain. "As I am with all of our students; their education is my responsibility."

Moody grunted disbelievingly, but said nothing else with Dumbledore present.

"I shall check with Harry and his first teacher for the day and see if he can't spare a bit of time," Dumbledore offered after a moment. Severus opened his mouth to object, but Dumbledore looked sternly over his glasses at him and continued, "You may wait in my office, Remus. I shall meet you shortly."

"Thank you, Dumbledore," Lupin replied, nodding his acquiescence.

"Ah- Headmaster," Severus spoke up from behind as the Lupin walked away. "I was wondering if I might have a word with Potter, first."

Dumbledore turned around to face him, considering him silently for a moment. Severus could tell, simply by the signs of an inward debate on the old man's face, that both were thinking along the same lines- Harry was planning to tell Lupin, and Dumbledore was uncertain if he should allow Severus to interfere.

Dumbledore looked as though we wished to refuse; perhaps he did not trust him to act in Harry's best interest, but he said shortly, "You may speak to both of us, in just a moment. Alastor, I believe you have a lesson to prepare," he said, clearly indicating the need for Moody's departure as well as he gestured towards the staircase.

Though he looked very much as though he might argue, the Defense teacher was given no choice except to leave in silence as Severus followed the Headmaster to retrieve Harry from the Great Hall. It took only a moment to summon the boy, and he looked quite relieved to be rescued from his chattering friends.

Harry stepped out into the entrance hall, giving Dumbledore a questioning look, and avoiding the Potions Master's gaze until the doors had been shut again.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, his voice slightly apprehensive at the dark, suspicious look on Snape's face.

"Lupin is here to see you," Severus said softly. He betrayed nothing of wariness in his tone, but Harry could tell by the flicker in his eyes, as he purposefully averted them, that he knew Harry was behind his arrival.

Dumbledore gave the the Potions Master a glance of disapproval, but with Severus staring at Harry intensely, it went unnoticed. Dumbledore then turned back to Harry. "Harry, what is your schedule for this morning?"

"Magical Offense at nine o' clock, sir," Harry responded.

Severus was visibly disappointed; it was only eight now, which gave Harry an hour to speak to Lupin.

"Well, Harry, Professor Lupin- well, I suppose you can call him Remus, now, he's not your Professor anymore- is waiting for you in my office, if you'd like to come with me," said Dumbledore.

"Of course," said Harry, but he was distracted. He could see that Snape desired a word with him, and all his instincts told him that he should do it now rather than later. On an impulse, he added, "Actually- I was wondering if I could speak to Professor Snape, first."

Both men raised their eyebrows, and Harry attempted to keep the relief off his face at getting his prior sentence out. He looked up at Snape, trying to behave as though he had logically thought out his previous words, and wasn't the least bit surprised at their boldness.

"Headmaster," Severus said without removing his shrewd gaze from Harry. "Perhaps you could allow me to escort Potter to your office? Privately?"

"Well, yes, I suppose that would be..." Dumbledore started faintly; he was clearly divided on whether he wished to leave the two alone. "That would be fine. But Professor Snape, a moment please."

Snape moved with Dumbledore several feet away from Harry, where Dumbledore said in a low voice, "Remember, Severus, that it will not do to cut Harry off from those he is closest to. If he wishes to confide in Remus-"

"I understand, Headmaster," said Severus resentfully; did he think he was going to threaten the boy into silence? "But there are some things that the boy needs to know first. I'm afraid he might be expecting a very different reaction from Lupin than the one he receives."

Dumbledore nodded to the side, considering what Severus had said. "Very well, then. Harry," he said more loudly as he turned back towards him, "I will take my leave of you here, unless there is anything else you need."

"No, thanks Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, offering him a small, almost reassuring smile. He then hurried after Snape, who was already walking quite quickly from the entrance hall.

Not until they had reached a quiet, empty corridor, did Snape slow down and eventually speak.

"You wrote to Lupin," he stated quietly, sounding resentful of the fact.

"Well, yes. I didn't think you'd mind," Harry responded, honestly surprised.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say I minded," he said, his volume raised. "Though some prior notice would have been considerate. I suppose you thought nothing of the fact that you'd have days to prepare yourself for this, and then it would be sprung on me so I could handle it with only a moment's notice."

"I didn't know Remus was going to come marching down to the school," Harry objected at once. "It's not as though I've been plotting against you with him," Harry objected, sounding more annoyed than he'd intended. He took a breath, and then said in a more restrained voice, "Listen, when I wrote him, I was confused and needed someone to talk to. I- I still am, really. I don't understand why you're so concerned when he's here to talk to me."

Severus stopped mid-stride. "Did it not occur to you," he countered, turning and looking seriously at Harry, "that Lupin will surely come back to me to clarify whatever you say to him?" He seemed angry, and Harry could only hope that his anger wasn't directed towards him. "There are… many things I have failed to mention up to this point about what went on between your mother and I, in relation to the 'marauders'." He rolled his eyes at the mention of their title. "Kind and gentle hearted as you may believe Lupin to be, I assure you that he will not take this news as well as you are expecting."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked apprehensively, not certain he wanted the answer.

"I mean," Severus responded in frustration, "that when your Mother went running back to Potter, he told Black and Lupin the whole story... and it did not cast me in a positive light. Lily was like a sister to those two- Potter had always loved her, and his best friends were fiercely protective of her on his behalf."

"So when you…"

"I don't doubt they would have broken down my door if Lily hadn't told them to keep away from me for their own good," Severus said, answering Harry's unasked question.

Harry was silent for a short while before saying, "But Remus has always acted normally towards you... he doesn't seem to hate you, like... like Sirius did." And with a pang, Harry realized that this was the first time he had considered what Lupin or Sirius would think about Harry letting Snape into his life... perhaps he had not considered it before because he had known, on some level, that he would not like the answer he got if he questioned it too deeply.

"I will admit," Severus said after a moment, because he could see that these revelations were troubling Harry deeply, "that Lupin has done well at hiding his feelings towards me. Dumbledore's trust in me and my work for the Order have helped him to move past whatever he felt towards me on Potter's behalf."

And Lupin had said, Harry remembered, that he had done nothing to stop James and Sirius from bullying Snape, and he had seemed guilty about it. Harry refrained from saying this, however, for he did not think it would bode well to reveal to Snape that he had talked about that witnessed memory with his enemies.

"I didn't realize… I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.

Severus looked sharply at him, and then turned his head forward again, resuming walking. "You didn't know. I just wanted to prepare you- Lupin may not be as understanding as you might expect."

"Well, maybe you should come with me," Harry suggested, watching Snape's face for a response.

Snape gave him another glance out of the corners of his eyes and kept walking. "Why would I do that?"

"Maybe it would be better to get everything out into the open at once," Harry replied thoughtfully. "And I don't like the thought of you two going head to head on your own... it might be better if I were there as a witness..."

Severus smirked. "And would that be better for him or for me?"

Harry smiled. "Hard to say."

It seemed strange- Snape was Harry's father, and yet he acted unlike any father-figure he'd ever had in his life. Any other adult offered him comfort and sympathy, and took every chance possible to prove that they cared for Harry. Snape didn't… but for some reason, it only made Harry try a little harder to get along with him… and he never would have pictured himself doing that during the past few years.

Severus never did confirm whether or not he would stay with Harry. They reached the stone gargoyle and Severus said the password, waiting for the stairway to appear while staring straight ahead. Harry kept looking up at him, wondering what he was thinking, and why he was keeping so silent.

Harry also couldn't help but notice the fact that Snape was sticking by his side, all the way into Dumbledore's office. The older man hardly even looked at him, but when Harry finally did catch his eye, he gave him a barely perceptible nod… and a strange feeling spread through Harry then. Assurance.

"Harry," Lupin greeted him warmly as he stepped into the room, gripping Harry by the shoulders. "It has been far too long."

"Hello, Professor Lupin," Harry said, a bit awkwardly as Lupin pulled him into a one-armed embrace.

"Remus," Lupin responded. "Call me Remus. And... Severus!" he said conversationally, as though he had only just noticed him there. The room went quiet, and Severus and Lupin considered each other for a moment. Finally, Lupin reopened the door of Dumbledore's office, and smiled at Severus. "Well," he said, "thank you so much for escorting Harry up here-"

"Actually, Lupin, I'll be staying," Severus said, crossing his arms. He suddenly knew that he had been waiting to deliver that blow when he felt a surge of satisfaction at the look of shock on Lupin's face.

Lupin glanced at Harry, who reaffirmed this with a nod. "You- you're staying?" Lupin repeated, eyes narrowing. "Harry-"

"You'll undoubtedly understand soon enough, Lupin," Severus said, stepping around him to the center of the office, and seating himself in one of the chairs there. "Well, there's no use in holding off," he said, seeing Harry's apprehensive expression. "Might as well get on with it."

"Right," Harry said nervously. "Perhaps you'd best have a seat, Remus, " he said to Lupin, who did just that; he seemed ready to do so anyways.

"Is this about the letter you sent to me, Harry?" Lupin asked, trying to avoid glancing sideways at Severus.

Harry nodded. "Yes, it is." He hesitated before continuing.

"What is it?" Lupin prompted gently, giving Harry a warm, inviting look that said you can tell me anything. Harry wondered if that was true.

Harry looked up at him. "It's about my father. He's… not who we thought."

Lupin continued to smile at Harry, but something about the way the light shifted in his eyes signaled his confusion at Harry's statement. "James?" He questioned. "What do you mean he was not who we thought?"

"No," Harry replied with difficulty, unsure how exactly to phrase what he needed to express. "That's not what I meant."

The smile on Lupin's face began to fade, and his brow furrowed in further befuddlement. "Harry?"

When no one replied for a moment, Lupin's eyes flickered to Severus. The Professor's expression was indiscernible, however, and Lupin looked from him back to Harry.

"James was not actually my father... at least, not in the blood related sense," Harry said, watching Lupin carefully. He was surprised with himself for feeling so calm as he said the words out loud; Lupin, however, was not handling it nearly as well.

The color in Lupin's face faded into an ashy white. He didn't say anything for a moment; he seemed to be swallowing the idea, absorbing the information. His look of bewilderment slowly gave way to understanding, and purposely avoiding looking at Severus, he asked, "Am I right to guess that…?"

Harry glanced at his father, who gave him a reassuring nod, and then affirmed with a small gesture.

Lupin slowly turned to Severus, shaking his head. "This isn't possible…"

"Why not?" Severus challenged in an almost taunting manner, raising his eyebrows. Harry squeezed his eyes closed. He wished the man wouldn't make the situation worse than it already was. "Why is it so difficult to believe? After all, Lupin, you remember better than anyone does how long we were together. If you honestly think we were celibate the whole time-"

"Well of course not!" Lupin scoffed, bringing his hands angrily down to the arms of the chair as though bracing himself.

"Then why isn't it possible?" Severus said, raising his eyebrows and maintaining the same look of mocking, placid calm.

Lupin sputtered for a moment as if searching for an answer. "If Harry was not James' son, why would he have gone to such lengths to protect him? Did he even know about this?"

"Think of all my fa-James Potter-did to help you keep your secret, Professor Lupin," Harry offered up, trying to take the focus off of Severus and provide some insight into the situation. "He would have done anything for his friends. My mother was one of them."

Lupin seemed to take this into consideration, but his expression of indignation didn't fade.

"Lupin," Severus said after a long moment, "What happened between Lily and I-"

"There is nothing you could say to change my mind about the two of you," Lupin responded quickly, cutting Severus off mid-sentence. "You never deserved her, and you certainly don't deserve him." He pointed, then, at Harry. "There is nothing you could say that could convince me otherwise. Harry," he said, turning to the boy, "I despise placing you in the middle of this, but are you truly prepared to let this man into your life?"

Severus opened his mouth to retort, but catching glance of Harry's defeated expression, quickly decided to refrain for the moment. He hoped that Harry would set the werewolf to rights.

Harry was at a loss for words for a moment. Severus had implied that Lupin's reaction would be less than exuberant, but he hadn't honestly thought that the man would go so quickly from amiability and warmth to… this. "I'm prepared to try," Harry said, seeming to find his voice.

Lupin shook his head. "You can't mean that. Do you know the way he treated your mother? Do you know how he threw her out on her-"

"That will be quite enough!" Severus finally barked, rising from his seat. "We can kindly leave my past with her out of this!"

"How can we, Severus?" Lupin returned, also getting to his feet. "If the way you treated your wife was any indication of how you'll treat your child, then-"

"I treated her very well when she was my wife!" Severus responded. "But a wife does not cheat on her husband- regardless of whether or not she actually did, I was only reacting to the circumstances as they were presented to me."

"James went through all of those years of jealousy and he never harmed her," Lupin said. "He was a good man."

"Oh, no, he never harmed her; he just tried to push me out of the picture time and time again by making me look a fool. Didn't care how miserable it was making her."

"No more miserable than being with you most likely made her," Lupin retorted, and Severus moved towards him.

"Stop!" Harry finally shouted, demanding the attention of both adults.

"You can't honestly think, Harry, that after all he's done-"

"After all he's done out of respect for me in these past few weeks," Harry said, his voice drowning out that of Lupin's. "I'm willing to believe that some men do, in fact… change."

Severus was gazing at Harry with a feeling swelling in his chest that he'd never felt with the boy before. He was actually… defending him. Harry Potter, the boy whom he'd tortured as much as possible during the past five years was standing there, defending him… against Lupin, of all people.

Lupin was gazing at Harry, almost stupefied by the very same fact that Severus was contemplating with wonder. What could possibly have taken place within the last few weeks that would have changed the boy's opinion of Severus so drastically? Who had said what to him, and how much truth had there been to it?

"Professor Snape," Harry said, turning to face him. "would you leave me with Professor Lupin?"

Severus didn't speak for a moment. He had no desire to leave this office; he had no way of knowing what poison Lupin would speak about him once he left. However, to refuse Harry's wishes would cast him in an equally negative light. "If you wish," he said at last, hiding the reluctance from his voice. He wanted to ask him to come by his office later… but he didn't. He just gazed oddly at him for another moment, before turning to leave the office.

As Harry turned to face Lupin, he could see that the man looked distraught. He was staring desolately at the floor, his hands clasped in his lap, seemingly ashamed both at his own behavior, and the sickening fact that Severus now had a claim to Lily… they had a child. All Harry could see in his expression, however, was disappointment. He lowered himself into the chair facing Lupin, and waited for him to speak first. When he finally did, he asked one very simple question.

"Why would you ever let yourself consider that man father?"

"He's the last chance I have at family." 

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 25

Nightly Burdens and a Refusal`

xxx

"Shut the door behind you, Potter."

Harry entered and did as he was told; he stood silently and waited for Severus to clear a space for them to practice Occlumency.

The previous night had ended with a heartfelt apology from Lupin, having been convinced by Harry to give Severus another chance. It hadn't entirely surprised Severus, for he'd known full well at the time that there was no request Harry could make of Lupin that the man wouldn't fulfill. Still, he'd been somewhat amazed at the fact that Harry had only taken an hour to do so; it had taken exactly that amount of time since Severus had left the office for Lupin to find his way down to the Potions Master and confess his regret for jumping to rash assumptions. Severus scoffed at the thought.

What Severus couldn't bring himself to scoff at, however, was what he'd heard as he'd stood outside the door, listening in on the conversation being continued without him. He's the last chance I have at family, the boy had said. About Severus… he'd said this about Severus. Not for the first time, he was struck by the greatness of the responsibility he now held. He hoped he would be able to fulfill it.

"I thought," Severus said as he moved toward a tall black cabinet in the corner of the room, "that it might be best if we both used the pensieve prior to these lessons, from now on."

Harry privately thought that he very much liked this idea, considering there were all sorts of thoughts floating around his head that he'd rather Snape weren't privy to, but said, "I don't know how to use one of those."

"I am going to teach you," said Severus. "Here-" he set the pensieve out on a high table. "Dumbledore has lent me his for you to use. You'll need your wand."

Harry pulled his wand from his robes and stepped closer to the stone basin.

"Hold your wand to your temple, like so," said Severus, pointing his own wand at his head. "Concentrate very hard on the memory you wish to extract. You'll feel when its caught. Then, lift your wand slowly..." A silvery woven strand slipped from Snape's head, pulled by his ebony wand, "And place it in the pensieve." He placed it in his own, which was still on a shelf in the cabinet. He turned back to Harry. "You try."

Harry did as he was told, placing the tip of the wand on his temple. He closed his eyes tight in concentration and thought hard about his conversation with Lupin. After a short moment of thinking intensely about the event, he felt a slight tugging sensation at the side of his head. He opened his eyes and began to pull the wand away from his head; out of the corner of his eye, he could see a glimmer of silver as his wand siphoned the memory from his skull. He touched it to the surface of the liquid and it spiraled away gracefully.

He did this several more times while Severus did the same, and soon they were ready for the lesson to commence.

"I feel I should tell you that while you have become adept at clearing your mind, that will not be enough to keep the Dark Lord out should he wish to reawaken the connection between you two. You should begin to focus now on not only keeping me out of your memories, but on directing through your mind."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" asked Harry, wishing he didn't have to ask.

"Steer me towards memories you would want me to see, rather than simply blocking me out completely. It should exercise your mind in having greater control over what you reveal."

"I'll try," said Harry, but he felt apprehensive as Snape raised his wand.

"Legilimens!" was the next thing Harry heard, for he had been concentrating hard on closing his mind. At once, he felt the familiar pressure of having another presence inside of his head, but it was becoming easier to retain his own sense of consciousness while battling with an invading force. He tried to do as Snape had told him- he thought of benign memories and allowed them to float to the surface of his brain. The day he got Hedwig from the Magical Menagerie; Ron and Hermione in the library, bent over their schoolbooks; taking his O.W.L. exams, tapping a quill against his lip as he searched for answers to write in his essay.

But then, it was as though he had stumbled into a room he hadn't meant to, and the door had locked behind him. He was falling asleep during his History of Magic, and then he felt the familiar burn of his scar, and saw Sirius writhing on the floor of the Department of Mysteries. He heard Voldemort's high pitched voice saying, give me the prophecy- he was shouting- shouting Sirius' name, but he wasn't responding- he wanted out of this memory, but he felt trapped, tethered by an invisible force- unable to look away, unable to shut out that voice, that voice which was so cold-

Suddenly, he felt strong hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him up, up and out of the memory. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in the office again and Snape had him firmly by the arms; dark eyes, full of concern, were searching his face. Harry came back to himself, shaking his head and blinking rapidly as though to readjust his eyes to the room around him, and Severus released his hold on him.

"Are you quite alright?" Snape intoned, looking at Harry as though he were afraid he might relapse at any moment.

Harry looked down at his hands and saw that he was shaking, slightly. Resolutely, he held his chin up and balled his hands into fists, which he stuffed into his pockets. "I'm fine," he lied. And even though it was the last thing he wanted, he asked, "Should we try again?"

The truth was that even with all that had happened between Snape and him over the past several weeks, this man was still the last person he wanted to talk about Sirius with. If there was anyone who couldn't understand what he was feeling about his Godfather, it would have to be Snape; the animosity between them had been too great.

But Severus, for his part, wasn't fooled by Harry's show of aplomb. "I think, perhaps, we should end here for today," said Severus, and Harry felt a rush of relief. At the same time as he felt relieved, however, he felt somehow stuck to his place on the floor.

"Perhaps," he said, "I could just sit for a moment-" and Severus guided him over to the chair in front of his desk. He took a seat on the other side of it and evaluated Harry for a moment.

"Why don't you stay, for awhile? I've got some papers to be getting on with, at any cost."

Harry felt instantly divided; he wasn't ready to face his friends, who would surely be able to tell that he wasn't quite himself, but he wasn't ready to talk either. But Snape, it seemed, wasn't interested in forcing conversation, as he quietly went to work on the pile of parchment on his desk. Harry felt quite thankful, in that moment, that Snape wasn't the sort to want to talk about his feelings. He seemed to understand, without Harry having said it, that there were some things he wished to keep private.

After some time had passed and the memory seemed to fade back to its rightful compartment in Harry's brain, squared tightly away, Harry's thoughts returned to Lupin. "Did Remus come to see you, last night?" Harry said as he sat in front of Severus' desk, remembering suddenly Lupin's promise to make amends for his sake.

Severus nodded, his eyes still skimming the paper in front of him, though he murmured an indistinct affirmation, marking something off in red. "Would you like an award for your role as peacemaker?"

Harry's ears flushed, but he said simply, "That wasn't my purpose in bringing it up."

"I'm certain it wasn't," Severus said dismissively, continuing to grade papers.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it and slumped down into his seat as an alternative. "Would it kill you to be nice once in a while?" Harry grumbled, fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of his robe. Severus didn't respond. "Or a simple thanks would do."

The two sat in silence for a long while, Severus grading papers, and Harry becoming frustrated by the same piece of protruding thread on his sleeve. Neither spoke, but it was a comfortable silence. Understanding lingered in the air- both had their grievances with one another, but at the same time, both knew they were now on good terms. Severus still wasn't playing the father to Harry, but that seemed alright for the time being. They were learning how to be civil. And unbeknownst to Harry, Severus was learning to enjoy his company… in fact, at many intervals, Severus was reminded distinctly of Lily. It was refreshing, in all truth.

Finally, Harry sat up and pulled his bag onto his lap, getting prepared to leave. "I'm supposed to meet Ron and Hermione before dinner. Got a D.A. session to run."

Severus' eyes flickered up to Harry at this, a small crease knitting between his brows. "Are you finding Moody to be a substandard teacher? Because if you are, I will go straight to Dumbledore-"

"No, no," Harry said in a rush, putting up his hands. "It just seems to... make everyone feel a bit more comfortable, is all. With everything that's happening."

Severus considered him for a moment, then nodded curtly, accepting his answer.

"Well, bye then," said Harry, turning and heading for the door.

There was a short hesitation, but just as Harry was reaching for the door handle, Severus called, "And Harry? Thank you." It was a little late, by Harry's standards, but it had made him smile nevertheless.

xxx

Harry paced three times in front of the door to the Room of Requirement. It seemed almost useless, keeping the D.A. in session now, when Umbridge was gone and they had a perfectly capable, no matter how crazy, Defense teacher to guide them during class time. However, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that some students would feel it still necessary, and in part, he agreed. He found it vaguely unsettling that dark activity in the Wizarding world was so seldom being reported… it meant that Voldemort was planning something. It meant that he was waiting, for some sign, some event, some opportunity… Harry could only wonder at what it was. He could only hope dearly that another attack wasn't coming any time soon.

Harry placed his hand on the cold, metal doorknob, and gave it a twist. The door swung open, and he found himself facing the ever familiar Defense room, fully equipped with books, cushions, and a wide open space to practice in. He set his books down on one of the shelves and began exploring the other texts, thinking of topics for this year's lessons.

"I see you're here already," Harry heard Hermione say as she came in behind him. He turned and smiled in greeting. She returned it, placing her bag next to his items on the shelf. "Find anything interesting?" She asked, sitting next to him and peering over at the book in his lap.

"Not so far," Harry admitted reluctantly, closing the book and reaching for another.

Hermione watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Harry," she said tentatively, and he knew she was approaching a topic which she deemed sensitive. "How are you doing?"

The ever vague question. 'How are you doing'… he hated when people asked that. It was so unspecific, left so much room for misunderstanding. He shrugged.

"I don't mean to pry," she said quietly, touching his shoulder. "You just seem… a bit off, that's all. And after what happened last year…"

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly, standing up and placing the second book he'd grabbed back on the shelf. He had dreaded, all summer, these sorts of talks during the school year. He'd known that his friends would want him to talk about Sirius' death, and it had been more than he cared to share with anyone, at least for the time being. Now, with his new relationship to Severus fresh in his mind, he felt more sensitive than ever discussing any emotional issues, especially where 'family' was involved.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Hermione, I'm sure," Harry insisted through clenched teeth. Hermione visibly flinched at his tone, and he instantly regretted snapping at her, but neither said another word as several more students filed into the room. Harry and Hermione looked at one another for a moment more, and with a thoughtful grimace, Hermione turned to greet the other students. Harry shook his head and went back to flipping through books.

The last two students to enter the room were Ron and Dean, both of whom were laughing obnoxiously. For a reason Harry couldn't quite put his finger on, this was far more irritating to him in this moment than it normally would have been; he suspected Hermione's incessant prodding for information had left him in a more petulant mood than he'd entered the room with.

"Could everyone please quiet down?" Harry called over the room, surveying the students. There were several newcomers- most were first and second years, sitting quietly in the back corner of the room. However, they were the only people who seemed capable of being quiet at the moment, as the room was still buzzing with noise and the gentle murmur of conversation. Harry looked around impatiently, and shouted again, "Everyone! Sit down and-"

A sharp noise pierced the air, and Harry looked around in surprise. Ginny Weasley was standing behind him, the same whistle he'd used the previous year dangling from her lips. She reached up and pulled it from her mouth, stepping forward and looking around the room darkly.

"You heard him," she said to the now silent room. "Keep quiet." She raised her eyebrows and looked challengingly at a few surly looking fourth years, but they said nothing. "Good. Back to what you were saying, Harry?" she prompted, stepping forward and taking her seat amongst the other students.

Harry looked at her for a moment, and then nodded. "Right," he said, still a bit stunned. "Thank you for that." Ginny nodded, satisfied. "As I was about to say, this is, for most of us, the second year of DA." He stopped, deciding whether to say it was Dumbledore's Army, or Defense Association… he settled for omitting that small detail. "For those of you who are new, you should know now that this is a group for the serious defense student. If you don't want to learn, then don't waste my time."

Hermione looked over at him, eyes widened slightly, but said nothing. Ron raised his eyebrows and looked off to the side, exchanging glances with Dean. Harry saw this, and gave them a dark look… The first years in the back corner now looked quite frightened, and one little boy was visibly shaking, which Harry didn't notice until he'd turned back to the group before him.

"Not to give you the idea that you're not wanted here," Harry amended quickly as he righted his expression, seeing the dramatic effect his simple words had had on them. He'd forgotten how easily first years scared. "I'm more than pleased to help you. I just hope you're here for the right reasons, is all." He cleared his throat nervously, and then continued with the lecture.

The small children relaxed a little as the lesson wore on, but nothing Harry did quite erased the look of fearful nervousness from their eyes. By the time he released everyone, he was growing quite annoyed with everyone's deliberately tactful responses to him, and the way all the younger students were avoiding his gaze, as though he were a basilisk and they might drop dead at first glance.

"Blimey, Harry," Seamus said, pausing with Dean halfway to the door as the last of the younger students left. "What's got you so worked up today?"

Harry turned to face him, more annoyed than seemed warranted to the comment, but Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder from behind, shaking her head firmly as he looked at her.

"He's just had a rough day," Hermione quickly supplied, standing at Ginny's side.

"Yeah, Remedial Potions," Ron said from somewhere in the back.

Seamus's brow crinkled, and Dean started to say, "But isn't Harry in-"

"Yes," Hermione and Ginny said in unison, moving towards them and pushing them out the door.

"Don't ask about it," Hermione said.

"It's far too complicated to explain," Ginny added, and then shut the door in the faces of the two Gryffindor boys. She turned to Harry. "Remedial Potions?" she asked.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He found it funny that she had gone along with their explanation, despite her own confusion about it. "Occlumency lessons," he said. "I was only supposed to tell Ron and Hermione last year- Professor Snape has been teaching me Occlumency for the past year now."

"Oh," Ginny said, taken aback. "Has he really?"

"No, we're lying, Ginny," Ron said as he brushed past them, heading for the door.

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny said as they all followed him out into the hallway. "I'm just… surprised, is all. I thought you hated him."

"Well, I certainly didn't choose to have him teach me," Harry said defensively, though he wasn't sure what he was defending.

"Well, of course not," Ginny said, laughing self-consciously. "I'm just surprised you're not more… resentful of the fact, is all."

Harry shrugged, hoping to dismiss the topic.

xxx

It had been months since Harry had been burdened with a vision involving Voldemort or any of his activities. He'd enjoyed that small luxury; though it was one every other person had been afforded throughout his or her lifetime, he counted himself lucky to have his mind as his own for even a short while.

If only the trend were able to continue.

There was running, screaming, the howling and whistling of spells and hexes flying every way… there was a great explosion, illuminating the dark sky in a plume of bright white and red fire, enveloping the small town from the rest of the world, sealing and marking it with the symbol of the Dark Mark… there was to be no doubt to whom this job belonged. It was the work of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and the world would know that he was back with no less power than he'd left with. The world would recognize his new, prevailing supremacy with a sense of formidability it hadn't felt since his first reign.

"It's a beautiful thing, death," Voldemort uttered softly, with sadistic pleasure contorting his already grotesquely inhuman face. "More beautiful is the grief it causes… they will know, Wormtail… they will know."

He walked the streets of the tiny wizard town as though nothing were out of the ordinary- as though the shrieks and cries of small children clinging to their dead mothers' bodies were an everyday apparition. And to this man, they were. He regularly saw the devastated, nearly phantasmal villages he'd destroyed, charred corpses crumpled in black heaps, lining the streets... The image was only haunting to the virgin eyes of those whose minds were not tainted with the visions of such evil- who had no concept of the dismissal of human lives as though they were recyclable, easily tossed and indifferently shattered…

Harry Potter's mind was that of innocence. He'd seen horror, oh yes…but mass murder, with such horrible, gruesome… he screamed. He screamed and he shouted and he could feel tears rolling down his face. He hoped someone would find them… he wanted someone to come, to help, to stop this- to save the little boy being-

"Harry! Harry!"

He was being shaken.

"Harry, wake up!" He was coming back to reality. "Neville, go fetch Dumbledore, and get Hermione on your way-"

"Ron!" Harry gasped. He was cold, clammy, shivering… he felt a bit as though he might retch. He struggled to sit upright, still panting heavily, ready to spring out of bed and into action- but his friend pushed him back. He struggled, but Ron held him firmly.

"Ron, you have to let me-"

"Harry," Ron said as calmly as possible, though the quaver in his voice was all but undetectable. He had seen Harry shaken up enough times to know that he became rash, impulsive, and unpredictable in these moments, and it had him a bit worried. "You are at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor tower."

"I know," Harry said, frustrated at having the obvious pointed out to him. "But I need-"

"Who would you like me to bring?" a female's voice came from behind Ron, and Harry looked behind him to see Hermione standing there, pale as a ghost, wringing her robes in her hands, and Ginny, clutching Hermione's elbow and staring wide-eyed at Harry.

Harry was far too shaky and disoriented to take his friends reactions to heart. "Severus," he breathed. "Bring Severus."

Ron was staring at him like he had a fatal disease for which there was no cure. "He's delusional," he said to Hermione. "He can't want-"

"Let's just get him, Hermione," Ginny said in a scared voice, still staring at Harry. "I'll go with you. Let's just get him."

"Look," Ron said. "I've already sent Neville off for Dumbledore-"

But Hermione and Ginny weren't listening. They'd already dashed out the door.

It was late at night, and the two girls couldn't quite say they were pleased to be standing in front of Snape's door. The hallway around them was dark and cold, and they stood there, barefooted and shivering in their dressing robes. But their attention was focused on the fact that Harry needed them to do this right now, and they weren't backing down from the task.

Snape opened the door slowly, peering out into the dark. He looked down and saw the two standing there, and a dark frown flickered over his face. He opened the door wider.

"Can I help you?" he said in a low, sneering voice.

"It- it's Harry," Ginny said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"He's asking for you," Hermione provided, hoping this would mean something to the man standing there. She felt foolish, embarrassed, awkward, to be saying such things and having him looking back at her in contempt.

Snape looked them over quickly, as though evaluating the truth of their story, and then brusquely stepped out into the hallway, forcing them to move, and shutting the door behind him.

"He is in Gryffindor tower?" He called over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said as she and Ginny rushed to keep up with him. She and the redhead exchanged confused glances.

"What is it that's happened?"

"We're not entirely sure, sir, but he seems rather shaken…"

Snape gave her an odd look as he looked back at them, his eyes narrowed.

"That is to say," Ginny hurriedly said, "we were woken by Lavender, who was told to by Neville, so we can't be positive what went on… but from the looks of things, he had another nightmare…"

Snape stopped abruptly and opened his mouth, but seemed to change his mind the next instant. He resumed walking at an even quicker pace, almost hurrying to Gryffindor tower.

The Potions Master looked rather out of place as he stepped into Gryffindor tower, roughly shoving aside several of the boys as he moved to Harry's bedside. His eyes swept over Harry's trembling form, and an unfamiliar mix of emotions came over him. It calmed him to see the boy, all in one piece and wholly present… and yet he felt his concern reach its peak as he observed the small details of a moistened, pale face, and shaking hands.

He turned to Ron, who was scrutinizing him very closely. "What happened?" He asked, hoping to sound somewhere within the realm of his normal, disdainful self.

"He was screaming- having a fit in his sleep," Ron said, looking over at his friend. "We haven't been able to figure out what-"

"That's all I need to know, Weasley," Severus said, redirecting his attention back to Harry. "Well, get up, Potter. I suppose we'll have to see the headmaster about this. Come on."

Harry looked at him with a pained expression, but seemed to understand. He weakly pushed himself out of bed, stumbling a bit as he made his way across the room. Severus stopped shortly before they'd reached the door, and addressed the others in the room.

"Everyone here should go back to bed, and speak nothing of this to anyone. That includes the both of you, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley." He aimed a pointed glare at the few defiant faces staring back at him, and then turned and closed the door.

"Hurry up, Potter, I haven't all day- or night, rather."

But silently, a gesture undetected by anyone but the two there, Severus extended an arm to Harry, who gratefully took it, leaning on his father for support as he unsteadily continued down the stairs.

Dumbledore seemed to have anticipated their coming, because he met them at the stairs leading to the corridor outside of Severus' quarters.

"Severus, Harry," Dumbledore breathed with relief as the two approached. "I hoped- never mind that, Severus, let's get him to your rooms."

Severus gave him a nod, refraining from snarkily suggesting that he had actually been thinking about going for a stroll down to the lake.

Harry walked shakily along, but he felt at least now, with Dumbledore and Snape there, he was safe. They reached Snape's quarters shortly, and once inside, Snape led him to the couch.

"Wait here," Severus said. Dumbledore sat next to him as he propped himself up on a pillow. "I'll get you some tea."

Harry raised his eyebrows in slight surprise at the offer, but said nothing. Dumbledore smiled to himself and patted Harry's knee lightly.

Severus returned shortly, tea in hand, as promised. He handed it to Harry with caution, then aimed his wand at the chair across the room, and with a flick, it slid over to him.

"Now, can you describe to us what you saw?" Dumbledore inquired gently.

Harry lowered his cup of tea, staring broodingly into it. "It wasn't anyone I know... a small village, mostly Wizard, I think. He said, "they will know". What does that mean?"

"Your guess is likely as good as ours, Harry," Dumbledore responded thoughtfully, "But I would say he meant this to send a message... this might be, perhaps, why he chose to show you. Severus," he then said, turning to the Potions Master, "How have your Occlumency lessons been progressing?"

"Harry has been steadily improving, Headmaster," said Snape, looking at Harry curiously. "But perhaps, today- perhaps he became more aware of you today, Harry; you experienced a powerful surge of emotion, earlier, in viewing a memory connected with him. He perhaps has been waiting to find a way through your defenses."

"So the Occlumency lessons might've caused this, is what you're saying?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps today, but you are growing stronger overall," Snape assured him. "They've been less and less frequent for some time, haven't they?"

"Yes, but I'd rather not have them at all, if it's all the same to you," said Harry resentfully. He tried not to notice when Snape and Dumbledore exchanged knowing glances with one another. "Listen, aren't you going to do anything about this?"

"We will alert the Auror's office; they might be able to find survivors. Severus, perhaps Harry should rest here for the rest of the night, in case he experiences another vision."

"Indeed," said Severus. "Come, Harry, you can sleep in my bedroom."

Harry wanted to object; he felt as though he were being put to bed like a small child. Would Snape tuck him in, too, he wondered bitterly? Yet, he said nothing, for he had a strong suspicion that Dumbledore had made the suggestion for the sake of getting Snape alone, and Harry very much wanted to hear what he had to say when he thought Harry was not listening.

When the door closed after Snape, it stayed quiet for a long time. Harry lay in bed, listening hard, hoping to hear something- anything at all- of what they were saying. When he was sure they wouldn't come back into the room, he quietly slipped out of bed and padded over to the door, pressing his ear to the space between the floor and the door. He could hear them talking quietly.

"...You should have known something like this was coming..." Dumbledore's voice was saying.

"I can hardly pick and choose what the Dark Lord chooses to impart to me," Snape snarled in return.

"I understand, Severus, but do you not find it significant that he's begun to trust you with so little information? Perhaps the point has come where you are doing more harm than-"

"Harm?" Snape snapped. "How have I caused any harm?"

There was a short pause. Harry could imagine Dumbledore was taking a long, steadying breath. "You're going to do Harry harm, if something happens to you."

"Harry will understand that I have a job to do. And what would he think of me if I were to give up my position simply to save my own skin? I won't be seen as a coward, Albus."

"I very much doubt he thinks of you that way," Dumbledore said admonishingly.

"Well, then enlighten me. How does he think of me?"

"You already know- you're his last chance for family," Dumbledore said quietly. Severus didn't respond. "Don't you see the way he looks at you, when you do something unexpectedly kind? I believe he's becoming hopeful for the future. Do you realize how long it has been since that boy has had any hope, Severus?"

"There won't be a future if we don't do everything in our power-"

"There won't be a future if he doesn't have someone to keep him going," Dumbledore said, fiercely.

"Why does it always come back to this?" Severus hissed.

Harry pressed himself even closer to the door in an effort to hear Snape's low tones, placing his hand on the door knob for support. Pressing his ear against the door, he heard Severus speaking ardently to the Headmaster.

"I'm not giving it up. You can't force me to-"

As Harry quickly learned, he would have been better off staying in bed. As he pressed himself so close to the door he might have become molded to it, he unintentionally turned the door knob and spilled into the next room abruptly. Severus and Dumbledore turned swiftly to stare at him as he steadied on his feet and looked at the two of them bashfully, his cheeks tinged with red.

"Were you- listening in on us?" Severus asked accusatorily.

Harry hesitated to answer. Snape looked so very threatening now, standing with his dark eyes glittering and black hair falling into his face, shadowing his features.

"I- well- that's besides the point!" said Harry at once, drawing himself up to stand. "Professor Dumbledore's right- why do you keep going back?"

Severus crossed his arms and sent a glare of annoyance in Dumbledore's direction.

"Oh, now look what you've done," he said. "No doubt you planned this, meddling old fool..."

"Because," Dumbledore said to Harry, ignoring Snape's commentary, "he feels that he's doing us more good risking his life than he is in saving it."

"Don't you understand? There is no one else to do what I do!" Severus exclaimed defensively, his intense eyes turned on Dumbledore once again. "We need to know what the Dark Lord is planning, and I am the only one who can provide any insight-"

"Severus, I tell you, he is losing confidence in you, and it would be safer to withdraw now and remain at Hogwarts than it is for you to keep returning! You are on borrowed time!"

"He's right!" Harry said, stepping closer now. "What good is it if you-"

"It would be selfish," Severus said in a harsher voice, turning on Harry, "to do anything otherwise. You, of all people, should realize that!"

"Fine," Harry snapped. "Do what you want, I don't care. But don't expect me to wait around for you to die." Harry turned and headed for his room, not caring what else Snape had to say. He was tired, and he'd already been through a lot. All he wanted was some peace, some time to himself.

"I never promised you perfection," Severus called after him. "I'm sorry if my work is inconvenient for you, but-"

Harry rounded on him, abandoning his pursuit of solitude. "I never asked for perfection!" he yelled, using his best effort to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm just saying, you might want to stick round long enough to know me- but you just don't care! Would it kill you to put in some effort? I don't know why you didn't just tell me I was wasting my time in the first place."

"Effort?" questioned Snape with a raised brow. "I've given you nothing but effort, but I suppose it couldn't be good enough for someone like you, Potter-"

"Someone like me? Oh, because I have had such a privileged life. You want to know how I grew up? Until my letter to Hogwarts came, do you know that I lived in a cupboard under the stairs, while my cousin had twobedrooms? Do you know how much they hated- still hate- me? Do you honestly think anything anyone gives me is ever a letdown after all that? I'm not asking for the world on a silver platter here. I'm just asking you to stick around- that's all!"

Severus looked at him for a moment, his expression wavering. Then, running a hand over his face, he sighed. "I never knew the extent of all that happened, but yes, after your fifth year, I had an idea."

"But you still hated me. You thought I was some spoiled, famous-"

"No!" Severus said, eyes widened threateningly. "That was never the reason I disliked you, and you should know that by now. I may have used it as an excuse, yes, but did you not notice a regression in my spite towards you for a short while after I'd learned how wrong that theory was?"

Harry frowned at him, shifting his eyes to the floor as he mumbled a grudging, "No."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "Surprise, surprise," he said flatly.

"Oh, as though you ever noticed when I tried to be respectful towards you? Don't act like you're better- you've held a grudge against me just as much as-"

"My behavior is not the one that needs to be evaluated!"

"You can't be serious! You've been ten times wor-"

"I am the adult! You forget your place, Harry! You are the child, and what you have to say about me doesn't-"

"I think that will be quite enough!" Dumbledore's voice succeeded in causing Harry and Snape to cease their argument and turn their attention to him at once, seemingly remembering suddenly that they were not alone in the room. "Thank you," Dumbledore said once they had quieted, quite serenely. "I think it would be a good idea for you both to take a seat."

Snape at Harry glanced at one another, then sat, both looking like scolded children.

"Well, this has been quite revealing," Dumbledore said then, looking from Snape to Harry and back again. "And I daresay, you both have raised valid points. I think you can both agree that you have an extensive past of acting on assumption in regards to your treatment of one another. I have, of course, promised you that I would interfere no more, and I will adhere to that promise, except to say this. If you look, you will both find fault in one another quite easily. You have a long history that guarantees this. However, I would also say that if you look a bit harder, you might find it quite rewarding to instead find the good in one another, and perhaps move forward with this relationship."

"Sir?" Harry said questioningly.

"In short, you both would do well to stop being so hard headed, open up your ears, and listen to each other. How else are you supposed to understand one another? How else can you learn to be father and son?"

Dumbledore looked at them both for a moment, before standing and picking up his cloak.

"I will take my leave of you now. It seems that you have quite enough to be getting on with without my adding more to the confusion. Good night."

And with that, Dumbledore left the two in uncomfortable silence.

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 26

Reaction

xxx

Harry and Snape remained quiet until Dumbledore had left their presence, both avoiding each other's gazes and looking chastised. Once the door had closed, however, Severus turned to Harry, face stubbornly unchanging as he said, "I'm leaving in one month on a task for the Dark Lord. It is of dire importance; I won't stop now. Whatever you choose to do in the meantime is your own choice, but I won't be swayed."

Severus turned, heading towards the couch, and Harry followed, speaking after him. "So you don't care? You really won't care if I come to you and say-"

Severus cut him off. "I won't make promises I don't intend to keep!" But he realized, by the expression on Harry's face, that perhaps his words had been too harsh. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face, sitting down on the couch. He looked thoughtfully at Harry, who was frowning at him, and sighed. "I'm trying to change, I am- but it will take time. Perhaps my priorities will shift in the coming months- perhaps not. It all depends on variables that I cannot yet determine."

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment, vaguely attempting to comprehend what had just been said to him. Severus held back a smirk, amused slightly by the boyish look of confusion on his face.

"Harry," he said more gently, sitting forward. "For now, this is what I need to do. I think you, of all children-"

"I'm not a child," said Harry darkly, and Severus actually smiled.

"No," Severus said. "You're not. So surely you understand the concept of making difficult choices?"

"It was the wrong decision in the first place!" Harry argued. He sounded more upset about the situation than Severus would have expected; it made it all the more difficult to reason with him.

"And now I'm paying for that," Severus said quietly. "This was never the way I wanted to spend my life- torn between two sides. I wanted to spend it with- my wife…" he choked on these words. It sounded strange to hear them spoken aloud; he'd spent an inordinate amount of time thinking them, but had never dared to utter such thoughts to another living soul. He'd kept that part of himself so protected, especially since her death. "I wanted us to be happy, to- I don't know what I thought I was accomplishing. But it didn't turn out the way I'd planned, I know that. I'd spent my whole life taking the easy way out; I finally reached the point where it made my life harder, I suppose. Extremely… inopportune time for me to finally get my comeuppance." A bitter laugh escaped him, and he shook his head.

"So now I have to be caught in the middle of all of this? I have to pay for your mistakes?" Harry questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"I am sorry," Severus said. Harry folded his arms and glared off to the side, but said nothing. Severus knew he sounded unsympathetic, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more. He couldn't risk telling Harry he would do something that he would later regret. He needed time, and a better reason to give up the job he'd known for so long. He couldn't risk taking what seemed like the easy way out… again. But he wouldn't expect this boy to understand that.

"Go to bed," Severus finally said, standing. "You look tired, and I'm sure you don't want to draw attention to yourself by missing classes tomorrow."

Harry noticed, with no small amount of relief, that the older man's voice was completely lacking in sarcasm. He allowed himself to be guided towards the room he'd gone to when he'd arrived, and admittedly, was glad to have his head hit the pillow. He was very tired; curiously, he hadn't noticed, but Severus had. He found that strangely… comforting.

Severus didn't say another word as he left the room, but he did pause as he shut the door, considering Harry for a moment with a softened expression on his face. Harry could feel his father's gaze resting on him; for once, it didn't make him anxious.

xxx

Harry awoke early the next morning earlier than usual. He considered the fact that he was in a strange place, which was most likely the underlying reason for the difference in timing. He lay in bed for a few moments, deciding whether or not it was smart to leave.

Coming to the conclusion that he wouldn't soon fall back asleep, Harry kicked off his blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He realized, as the cold air touched his bare feet, that he didn't have his dressing robe or slippers. He looked around hopelessly, but saw nothing that would help him.

Harry had to squint hard against the surprisingly bright light that greeted his eyes as he stepped out into the main room. It took only a moment for his eyes to adjust, and when they did, he looked around, taking everything in. A fair quantity of candles were lit, and Severus was sitting at his desk, seemingly looking over papers. Harry looked to the couch and assumed from the blankets and pillows atop it that Severus had slept there.

"You're up early," Severus commented from across the room. "No more nightmares, I hope?"

"No, I slept fine," Harry said, pulling his sleeves over his knuckles.

"There are some blankets there on the couch, if you're cold," Severus said flatly, raising an eyebrow as he saw Harry's apparent discomfort.

Harry nodded and moved towards the pile, selecting a plush tan throw and wrapping it around himself. "What're you doing?" he asked, stifling a yawn and settling himself the couch nearest to Severus' desk.

"Grading papers," Severus said dully, marking up a new essay. "Story of my life."

"From what you've told me," Harry said, with some hint of irony, "Your life involves much more than grading papers."

Severus inclined his head at that. "This is true," he said.

He waited a moment before speaking again. Harry watched him intently from across the room, examining his face for any kind of emotion. As always, however, he was completely unreadable, like a blank page. Severus looked back up at him.

"I was a bit- ah- surprised…" he paused shortly, considering Harry. "That you requested me last night."

Harry tried to smile. "I was surprised you came."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Well, it was a bit hard to ignore the two students who showed up at my door in the middle of the night …" he tapered off, but gave Harry an almost imperceptible look of inquiry.

Harry shrugged. "It just felt right." Severus' expression changed and Harry shifted uncomfortably on the couch, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, and said, "Not many people understand what it's like… to constantly be under his control. No one knows what it's like to constantly feel linked to him… to feel, overpowered, by him."

Severus watched him, his brows furrowed, and then rose from his seat. He came to Harry, and the boy looked up at him. After a moment of indecision, Severus took a seat next to him on the couch, placing a hand on the boy's frail shoulder. "Harry, you are not being controlled by him…" He took a bracing breath, "You're too good for that- he can't get too close, because you possess the qualities that he most despises."

"Then why is he constantly there? Why does he have the ability to-"

"An involuntary connection does not taint you, Harry, no matter what some may think. Have you ever done anything according to will other than your own?"

"No," said Harry quietly.

"Then he most certainly isn't controlling you. He can only tempt you, only feed you bits of information. He thinks he knows you… he's wrong. You know that. As long as you remain as strong as you have repeatedly proven yourself to be…" Severus paused here. "Oh, listen to me," he said, curling his lip, and Harry laughed despite himself. "But the point is not to let this overcome you. You never chose to be a part of him- and it's the choice that determines his level of control."

Harry left his father's rooms very early and returned to Gryffindor tower, slipping into his bed and pretending to be asleep before any of the boys in his dorm could question him about the previous night.

He was not so fortunate to escape the attention the coming day brought him, however. Despite the fact that only a few Gryffindors had been there to witness Harry's renewal of fitfully awakening during the night, it seemed now to have spread throughout the school by the next morning.

Harry was relieved to finally get away from the crowded great hall for class after breakfast. Hermione strode with him out of the Great Hall, her arm linked with his, sending frightening glares to the brave students who dared to stare at her friend. Ron was back at the breakfast table, telling off a now very frightened first year for flinging his porridge at the back of Lavender Brown's head.

They had to make a quick visit to Gryffindor tower for Harry's forgotten Potions book, but were nevertheless early to get to the dungeons. Harry had not yet been down here since the school year had started a week ago, and despite his changed relationship with the Potions Master, he couldn't rid his stomach of the anxiety swimming within it.

The door was cracked open. Hermione placed her hand on the black, steely handle and turned to look at Harry, her eyebrows furrowed in a worried, piteous sort of way. Harry nodded once, swallowing, and she pulled the door open.

As they stepped inside, they saw that they weren't the first ones there. In fact, it looked as though nearly half of the class was there, and everyone was sitting quietly at his or her desk, looking around in trepidation. Potions were already simmering, their warm, inviting vapors drifting across the room; there were various colors rising from the line of cauldrons in the front, dancing in front of Harry's eyes. Harry swallowed nervously again and looked at Hermione, whose eyes were all lit up as she fumbled around in her bag for a piece of parchment and quill, and then moved closer to the potions, taking observations on every one. Harry released an almost silent groan and wished Ron was there; class hadn't even started yet and already Hermione was getting to work. Harry settled himself grumpily next to the seat she had left her bag in and looked around.

N.E.W.T. Level potions was a class of mixed houses. So far, Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors present in the room. Over in the far left sat Blaise Zabini, with his feet resting atop the desk and with a book in each of the three seats around him. Harry took this as a sign that three more Slytherins would soon be joining them. In front of the place where he had those seat reserved were Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, and another spot that Harry presumed to be for Justin Finch-Fletchey, since he'd heard Susan Bones was no good at Potions and most Hufflepuffs were absolutely petrified of Snape. And behind Harry sat Padma Patil, with an empty seat that was most likely for her sister, Parvati, and another two rows of Ravenclaws, all sitting and talking quietly amongst each other. Harry turned around and shook his head, watching Hermione now as she moved excitedly from cauldron to cauldron.

Harry heard the door open, and turned to see who had just come in. To his surprise, it was Snape; he wouldn't have guessed so, as there had been no slamming of the door. Snape stood still for a moment, eyes locked on Hermione with his eyes narrowed and lip curled, and then started for the front of the room.

"Miss Granger," he said silkily from behind her. The class went completely silent as all eyes turned to him, and she froze. "May I ask what you are doing?"

Hermione turned around and looked up at her Professor. "I- I was just- er- taking observations, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Did I ask you to make observations?"

"Well, no, sir, but-"

"I see no one else up here, taking notes on my work."

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't think-"

"How disappointing," Snape said over Hermione. "I suggest you think harder, Miss Granger. After all, your intellectual capacity much stretch to the other two miscreants you pathetically call your friends." He glanced disgustedly at Harry, and then back at Hermione. "Go sit down," he hissed, jerking his head over his shoulder.

"Yes sir," Hermione said timidly, hurrying back to her seat. Over in the corner, Blaise was sniggering softly with another Slytherin girl who had only just entered the room. Hermione looked over at them, and then back down at her paper, trying not to blush.

Harry was glaring hard at Snape. He could take the abuse himself; knowing what was going on between the two of them, he could take it. But Snape had no reason to pick on Hermione.

Snape soon became aware of Harry's furious eyes resting on him, and looked up. Harry quickly shifted his eyes, wishing Snape hadn't seen, but he knew it was too late. Snape stepped down and towards Harry's desk. "Is there something I can help you with, Potter?" Snape sneered, crossing his arms.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy walk in with the stream of other students as the bell rang, an eager look developing on his face as he looked back and forth between Snape and Harry. He leaned over and whispered in Zabini's ear, who sniggered gratuitously.

Harry took a deep breath and returned his gaze to meet Snape's, holding his expression firm and strong. "I don't see anything wrong with what Hermione was doing," he said. "And I think it's unfair that you shouted at her for it."

"I don't remember shouting," Snape said, eyebrows raised. Harry rolled his eyes, and Snape's widened. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me," he said warningly, placing his hands on the desk. "We have a long year ahead of us, Potter, if you can't learn to hold your tongue and keep a respectful face around me.

"Yes sir," Harry said, his glare darkening. Snape held his gaze for a moment more, then turned away and went back to his board to write instructions for their assignment that day.

"Potter," Malfoy hissed from the corner, once Snape's back was completely turned. Harry ignored him. "Potter!" Draco hissed with more urgency, and Harry turned to him with annoyance etched in every line of his face.

"What?" Harry mouthed in irritation.

"Silence," Snape said warningly from the front of the room. "The bell rang, did it not? You may have forgotten over the holiday, mindless as you are, so I'll remind you of this simple rule: I won't tolerate mindless chatter while class is in session."

Harry and Draco both stared at Snape's back, frustrated looks on their faces. Harry turned to Draco again, and mouthed "What?" one more time.

Draco cast a furtive look in Snape's direction, and then began to mouth some indiscernible words that made Harry squint in confusion. He went on doing this for a few more moments before realizing how pointless it was and waving Harry off as Snape finished writing instructions and turned back to the class.

"The instructions are on the board," Snape said dully, leaning on his desk. "You will notice that I've left very specific instructions; so be sure to follow them carefully. You have until the end of the class period, and then you will turn in whatever sample you've managed to come up with. Oh- and we have an even number of students in this class?" He paused and counted heads quickly, scanning the room for missing faces, and then nodded to himself. "Yes- you will be working in a number of partner assignments this year. This happens to be one of them. I hope you've all chosen seats next to the person you desire to work with, because that is your place for the rest of the year."

Snape looked them over for another moment, his eyes resting contemplatively on Harry and Hermione for a moment. Harry feared he would split them up- he needed her if he was going to pass this year. However, Snape seemed to decide against it, and went back to his desk. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and shared a small smile with Hermione.

"Right," Hermione said softly, a bit relieved as well. "Would you rather dice the Tubeworms or the skin the leeches?"

Harry wrinkled his nose at the jars she was holding up, and chose the one filled with the tubeworms.

Hermione looked at the leeches. "Good choice," she said miserably.

An hour later, when Harry had slime worked into the deepest crevices of his fingernails and Hermione's arm was about ready to fall off from the hundred consistent strokes she'd had to give the Potion, they finally achieved the results the book said to expect. Leaning over the silver cauldron, Harry saw with great satisfaction that their potion had turned to a liquid, shimmering pool of black and was emitting silver clouds of mist from the surface.

"Sir," Hermione said, putting her hand up. Snape turned and headed towards their table. "I think we're done," she said unnecessarily as he peered shrewdly into the potion.

"That'll do," Snape said dismissively, turning and stalking over to the Hufflepuffs to inspect their work.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a satisfied grin, and Hermione filled a small glass vial with a sample of their potion.

As Harry watched Hermione place their assignment in the designated rack, he felt a light blow to the arm, and looked down. On the floor was a crumpled piece of parchment. He looked over at Draco, who nodded, and reached over to pick it up. He debated unfolding it, but thought better of it as he saw Snape peering suspiciously over at him. He put the paper into his bag and started on the written portion of their homework.

He was almost able to finish by the end of class, and resigned himself to finishing the assignment at lunch, not knowing what other homework he would be charged with by the end of the day. He and Hermione gathered their things as class was dismissed and headed for the third floor, where they were meeting Ron.

As he'd promised, Ron was indeed waiting outside the classroom to International Interpretations. He was easily spotted from the other end of the corridor; he had his arms crossed and was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, ruffling a hand through his bright red Weasley hair. Harry thought he looked quite ridiculous. Hermione seemed to agree, but smiled amiably at him anyways.

"Apparently, McGonagall teaches this class," Ron said quietly to the both of them, meeting them as they came closer.

"Oh good!" said Hermione, just as Harry released a groan of disappointment. "What? Professor McGonagall is a great teacher, Harry!" Hermione admonished at once.

"Yeah, I know- but she's hard," said Harry. "I was hoping for something a bit easier after dealing with a double block of Snape every Wednesday..."

Harry was rather pleased to find out that this class involved much more bookwork and less teaching, which allowed for casual conversation between him and his friends. They spent a majority of the time working anyways, due to the heavy workload McGonagall gave them, but it was more enjoyable than sitting in complete silence, listening to lectures.

"I can't join you for lunch," Hermione said breathlessly as they made their way down the stairs. "I've a load of Arithmancy homework, coupled with the Defense assignment we got yesterday-"

"So you're going to the Library." Ron said, looking over at Harry and shaking his head just slightly.

"Yes," said Hermione. "And you should consider doing the same. We've got N.E.W.T.s next year, and you'd be best off not to fall behind so early-"

"That's a whole two years away!" Ron objected.

"Hermione, we're not falling behind; we've only been in school a week," Harry said, jabbing Ron in the ribs before Hermione could see the impression he was doing of her.

"Well," Hermione said indignantly. "You'll wish you'd come with me when you're spending all your free periods working in the common room." She looked back and forth between them and shook her head. "I'll see you two after lunch."

And with that she stomped off in the direction of the library, leaving Harry and Ron standing there, a bit bewildered.

"Yeah, well… that's Hermione for you," Ron said, shrugging. "You know, I'm not very hungry."

Harry now turned to him, looking astonished. "You're not hungry?"

"No," Ron said in what was apparently supposed to be a casual tone. "What say we go down to the lake? I could use some fresh air. And maybe we can see if Hagrid's back yet."

Harry looked at him doubtingly for a moment. "Alright…" he said, following his best friend to the doors.

The September air was getting more chilly every day, yet in their school uniforms, the boys were warm enough. The grounds were relatively quiet for the moment; most of the students were taking lunch in the Great Hall.

"So," Ron said as they settled themselves on the deserted grounds, next to the lake. "You're having visions again?"

Harry looked at him questioningly, wondering what he was getting at. "Well, I had one… but I don't know if it'll happen again."

"I thought you'd conquered Occlumency by now," said Ron, peeling a banana he'd pulled from his bag. "I mean, you spent a lot of time with Snape this summer, didn't you?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. Ron looked back at him, his expression stony and hard; it was a look Harry hadn't seen on his friends face since the Yule Ball in fourth year. "Ron, if there's something you have to say, just say it."

Ron lowered his hand, which he'd raised to take a bite. "You asked for Snape the other night."

There was a pause.

"So?" Harry said uncomfortably.

"You called him Severus," Ron said, and he couldn't hide the note of accusation in his voice. "You'd have to have got… pretty close… to call him by his first name." He was frowning deeply now, his nose slightly wrinkled in apparent disgust.

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked disbelievingly, in amazement that Ron would even suggest what he seemed to be.

"I think you know," Ron responded, watching Harry closely for a reaction. "I mean, you've always hated the git-and for good reason, too. Now all of a sudden you're best friends with him?"

"Well it's nothing like that!" Harry exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. He felt as though he'd been led into a trap, and was somewhat betrayed by Ron's assumption. "I- what gives you the right to-"

"Well if it's nothing like that then what is it?" Ron retorted brashly, getting to his feet as well. His ears were red with embarrassment, and he looked almost hurt, though Harry couldn't really understand why. "I mean, bloody hell, what am I supposed to think? Severus? And not to mention, you haven't mentioned anything about him since you returned to Hogwarts. Not a word. Not a, "Hey everyone, Snape is surprisingly being nice to me this year!" or a, "Funny story, Snape told me to call him by his first name"... nothing. If you have nothing to be ashamed of, why have you been hiding so many things?"

Harry glared murderously at his friend. "It's nothing you would understand."

"Nothing I would understand?" Ron repeated, taken aback. He turned his head, looking away, and then back at Harry. "Harry, I've made errors in judgment a few times, yeah- but nothing so bad you shouldn't be able to tell me what's going on…"

"Well you seem pretty irrational about what you've guessed so far," said Harry folding his arms. "So how do I know that?"

"Well think about what I guessed, Harry," said Ron, shrugging slowly. He seemed to be trying to make up for what he'd said before by keeping his temper. "Listen, Hermione and I have both noticed a change in you- something's wrong, or at least different. Did you think you could hide this from us, whatever it is? We know you better than that… at least I'd think so."

Harry stared at him. Could he really trust Ron with this information? Could he trust that his friend would not abandon him at hearing the shocking news? He sat down again, staring out across the lake, and folding his knees to his chest. "What if I told you I'm not exactly the boy you thought you knew?"

Ron hesitated. "… I suppose I'd have to ask how that's true," he said dubiously, sitting down next to Harry.

Harry continued to gaze over the rippling waters of the lake, silently deliberating. But Ron was right… he couldn't keep this from his friends forever.

"Listen, before I explain this to you, you have to promise me you won't breathe a word of it to anyone," Harry said seriously. Ron nodded fervently, and Harry reiterated, "I mean no one. It would be dangerous if anyone else found out what I'm about to tell you."

"Harry," said Ron, as if he didn't believe he was really in for that great of a surprise. "You've been able to trust us before, haven't you?"

Something about the tone of Ron's voice sent a surge of renewed frustration through Harry. Here he was, about to reveal something so personal, so life-changing, and Ron was acting as though Harry was being melodramatic, as if what he had to say was as mundane as the knowledge of what they would be eating for dinner.

"James was not my father," Harry said quietly, avoiding Ron's eyes as he said it. He picked up the nearest twig and began to peel the bark off, flicking it toward the lake.

A second passed and he glanced sidelong at his friend to check his reaction. Ron's jaw had dropped and he was gaping at him in disbelief. "What?"

Harry looked away again, wincing at Ron's somewhat harsh tone. "My mother was married to Snape before James… no one but she and Dumbledore knew until about a month ago-"

"You mean you found this out a month ago, and you still haven't told me- us!" Ron exclaimed in astonishment, anger taking the place of shock in his expression as he rose again to his feet.

"It was only a few weeks back, thank you!" Harry replied defensively, growing frustrated. He lost sight of the explanation he had been ready to offer Ron, and responded, "And you know, it's not really the sort of thing you chat to your friends about while sitting around table… there hasn't been a good time to-"

"Well, you should have made time!" Ron interjected.

Harry stared at Ron for a moment. He had expected Ron to be angry about his relation to Snape- not the fact that Harry hadn't mentioned it yet. "This isn't easy for me, either, Ron," Harry said in a shaky, low voice. He shook his head, stood, and began pacing back and forth.

"Well, apparently," exclaimed Ron indignantly, "it has, since you're already on a first name basis with the git! All of a sudden you find out you share a bit of blood and he becomes more important than we are?"

Harry rounded violently on Ron. "I knew- knew- that you would overreact, and that's why I've been biding my time. I'm still trying to get over the shock of it myself, do you think I wanted a hothead like you to deal with as well?"

Ron looked truly insulted now; his eyes were flashing and his skin almost matched his maroon sweater, but he tried with great effort not to lose his temper. "It's not the fact that Snape's your father that I'm angry about. We have been friends," he said with restraint, "for five years. I have invited you into my home and accepted you as part of my family because I knew how much you needed one. I thought that meant more to you than the fact that I lose my temper once in awhile. But now, I'd wager I was wrong."

Harry opened and closed his mouth, taken aback to the greatest measure. Ron's words stung him, he couldn't lie… because he was right. He had been a good friend to Harry, even if he didn't seem the most understanding person.

"Ron, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine- don't apologize," Ron muttered grudgingly, sending an abrasive glance in Harry's direction, and shaking his head in still apparent disbelief. "I'm going back up to the castle."

Ron didn't wait for a response; he forcefully slung his bag over his shoulder and began to climb up the grounds towards the school, leaving Harry standing behind, watching him. Harry waited for him to disappear, and then turned and aimed a forceful kick at his own bag, sending its contents sprawling across the ground.

He groaned and brought a hand up to his forehead, pressing his fingers into it and trying to get his thoughts in order. He didn't know how he and Ron would make up, but he knew they had to- he knew they would. It would just take time…

Harry shook his head, and vaguely remembering the note from Malfoy, reached into his bag and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper that had been thrown at him. Now seemed the an ideal time to look at it with no one else around, and he needed something to take his mind off of Ron...

He unfolded the parchment and squinted down at it. Written in very small letters were the words, "Meet me in the Potion's Classroom tomorrow at 6:30- morning."

xxx end chapter 26 xxx

Chapter 27

Hope

xxx

At first glance, the note received from Draco Malfoy seemed suspicious. What could he possibly have to say to Harry that he couldn't say during the day? And if it was something so secret, why would he be so keen to let Harry in on it? Secondly, meeting Malfoy had never turned out well before; in years past, it had always been a trap of some sort. Curiosity got the best of Harry, however; the idea of meeting Draco Malfoy became more and more appealing as the night wore on. Every once in a while he unwrinkled the note again and stared at the words Malfoy had written on the parchment, contemplating the best course of action. If he were going to meet him, he decided, he would have to tell someone. It wouldn't do to go running off without a backup plan… but whom would he tell?

His answer arrived late that night, as Ginny Weasley climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, hello Harry," she said slightly breathlessly, pulling a leaf from her long, messy hair.

"Where were you?" Harry queried, sounding somewhat amused. Was this the same quiet girl that'd been scared of him during his second year, sneaking out late at night?

Ginny smiled sheepishly and sat in the chair across from him, scooting closer to the hearth and warming her hands in the heat emanating from the brightly burning fire. "Oh, you know, wandering the grounds…" she said evasively, fixing her eyes on the glowing embers. She looked over at Harry, who was feigning a reproachful expression, trying to look as though he disapproved. "Oh, don't give me that," Ginny snipped in response. "You've been doing it since first year, and I'm in my fifth."

"Well, I didn't go alone," he answered back, looking down at his book to hide his smile.

"Neither did I," Ginny contested, and Harry looked up at her. Their eyes met for a moment; she looked away, finger combing her hair. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Homework," replied Harry, indicating the book in his lap.

"Looks like you got far," Ginny said flatly, glancing at his blank parchment. He gave her a dramatic glare, and she smirked back at him. "What subject?"

"Potions," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Mmm," Ginny murmured, nodding and trying in jest to look sympathetic.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, smiling and closing the book. He set it on the table in front of him and turned to Ginny. "Tell me, can I trust you?"

"What?" Ginny responded, looking confused.

"Just answer the question."

"Well, yeah..." she tailed off, narrowing her eyes.

"So if I told you something just because I need to tell someone- I mean…" Harry paused and took a breath. "I have to do something tomorrow morning, and I'm going alone- but I think someone should know where I am…" he broke off, not knowing how to explain the situation without giving it all away.

"Harry, forget trying to explain what you're asking, I know what kind of question you're asking," said Ginny, waving at him to be quiet. "Yes, you can trust me."

"Alright," Harry said, hardly surprised by her response. "I'm meeting Draco Malfoy in the Potions classroom at six-thirty tomorrow morning. I expect to be back by a quarter past seven… if I'm not, get your brother or Hermione and come look for me. If you can't find me…"

"We'll find you, Harry," Ginny said, though she still looked puzzled, "Don't worry about it. I know what to do."

"Thanks," Harry said, relieved.

"Don't mention it," Ginny said, getting up and setting the pillow back on the chair. "But if you'll excuse me, it's been a long day, and I think Filch might have gone to McGonagall about me… so if she comes up here, I've been in bed the whole time, alright?"

Harry laughed. "Sure thing."

"Good," Ginny said, smiling back from the bottom of the stairs. "Well, night."

"Night," Harry called after her as she disappeared from sight.

xxx

Getting out of Gryffindor tower unnoticed the next morning was not such an easy task. Harry had already anticipated having to leave his dorm room in absolute silence, but he hadn't expected Hermione to be sitting down in the common room, working away on Arithmancy.

"Harry," Hermione said, sounding pleased as she looked up and saw him descend from the stairs. "You're up early. No more dreams, I hope?"

"No, I slept fine," Harry said, pulling on his shoes.

Hermione frowned slightly, looking offended at his dismissive tone. "Where are you going?" She asked inquisitively, setting down her quill.

"Oh, I need to… talk to Dumbledore about something," Harry said, wincing inwardly; he knew he was caught. Thinking it would be wise to leave before Hermione had time to work out what was going on, he turned and headed for the portrait hole.

"Oh," Hermione said awkwardly, nodding and looking off to the side. She didn't seem to notice that he was walking away from her. "Harry, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Harry froze for a moment, cursing silently, and then turned his head to look at her. Her warm brown eyes, sitting under her brow wrinkled with worry, were almost pleading with him now. He looked at her with a pained expression for a moment, and she drew a breath to speak.

"Listen, I-"

"Don't mean to pry?" Harry cut her off, raising his eyebrows.

Her mouth was still open, half formed around the word she'd been about to say. She looked at him for a moment, and then closed it. "I was going to say I care about you…" she said softly, looking down again. "It's just- things haven't been the same this year. I knew th- that after last year… what I mean to say is-" she stopped again, looking completely at a loss to explain what she was feeling. "I'm worried. I understand you're going through something… really awful this year and… well, I want you to know I'm here. If you need to talk…"

"I think," Harry said softly, "That I'm having a much better time now, dealing with his- his death. What I'm dealing with now is… completely different."

"Oh…"

"Listen, I've really got to go, but I'll be back soon." Harry considered Hermione for a moment, who was still looking down at her hands. "There's a lot I have to tell you."

Receiving an understanding nod from Hermione, Harry then disappeared out the portrait hole, hoping he wasn't too late to meet Malfoy. He pulled out his map and glanced over it quickly. Filch was out on the grounds, near Hagrid's hut. Dumbledore was sitting in his office, and Severus was in his room. Harry rushed forward towards the dungeons, hoping none of them would change positions before he could get there.

Malfoy was sitting atop a desk in the Potions classroom, waiting there as promised. He sat with a bored expression on his face, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his head. His feet were kicked out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other; it was an almost poised look of relaxed arrogance.

"You're late," Malfoy commented, failing to move a muscle as Harry came through the door.

"I noticed," Harry replied dryly, observing Malfoy in annoyance.

Malfoy slowly turned his head, looking Harry up and down in apparent distaste. "I have to ask myself," he said coldly, "Why I keep doing this. What is this now, the second time I've helped you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How're you planning to help me now?"

"Well, I'm not really doing it to help you…" Malfoy said thoughtfully, nodding his head to the side. "It's more to do with Professor Snape… but then, that does concern you, now doesn't it?"

Harry was sure he felt his heart skip a beat. "What do you mean?" he asked, keeping his voice as even and neutral as possible.

Malfoy smirked gloatingly, gazing at Harry with his grey eyes full of amusement and contempt. He fixed Harry with this stare for a few more seconds, and then slowly pushed himself off the desk.

"I know your secret," Malfoy said, taking a few steps towards Harry as he spoke. "And I'm not the only one."

"What secret?" Harry asked in a low, calm voice, his pulse quickening now.

"You're not really a Potter," Malfoy said in a low, almost delighted voice. He was standing directly in front of Harry now.

"How do you know that?" asked Harry accusatorily; he could tell by the look in Malfoy's eyes that he wasn't lying.

"My father told me," Malfoy said, his smirk widening now.

"You- your father?" Harry stammered, his eyes widening into an expression of fierce anxiety.

"Yeah," Malfoy said. "And you know who told him?"

Harry eyes widened; his breath caught in his throat, and a wave of fear rolled over him. And he couldn't quite explain this to himself. He knew he didn't want Severus to be harmed, and he knew why he felt that way- but the strength of his reaction surprised him.

Malfoy watched Harry's face for a moment, inwardly appreciating the horror he was making his adversary face. Maybe now he would know what it felt like to have the imminent prospect of losing a father hovering over him, even if it was only for a moment.

"No, I'm only joking, Potter," Malfoy said in a sardonically sweet voice. "The Dark Lord doesn't know. Well, not yet, anyways. But my father does, and he's just waiting for yours to slip up."

Harry closed his eyes briefly, waiting for his heartbeat to steady. He hated Malfoy; he hated him for this. But as of that moment, he had no other option but to accept Malfoy's behavior, or he would be risking the loss of any hope for information. "So you think," Harry said slowly, "That if I just warn him to be careful-"

Malfoy looked doubtful at that, and shook his head. "I'd keep him close to home, if I were you."

Harry considered Malfoy for a moment as he began erasing evidence of their being there, clearly planning to leave. "I thought Snape and your father were good friends," Harry said, keeping his eyes on the other boy. "Umbridge said last year that he always spoke very highly of Snape at the ministry..."

"Yeah, they get along fine," Malfoy said casually, heading for the door. "But you he's not so fond of... to be honest, Potter, I don't think he cares what he has to sacrifice to get rid of you."

"And you?" Harry challenged, following Malfoy as he walked towards the door. "Why don't you feel the same way?"

"Haven't we been over this, Potter?" Malfoy asked, turning around and glaring irritably at Harry. "I'd rather not discuss it again."

And with that, Malfoy turned and headed out the door, disappearing from sight.

xxx

Harry's mind was still reeling when he entered the common room, but he was somewhat calmed by the sight of Hermione and Ginny sitting together, clearly waiting for him.

The common room was quiet, and they were the only ones awake. The two girls had been engaging in light conversation, but it immediately ceased when Harry arrived.

Without a word of greeting, Harry moved to where they were sitting, taking a seat in a chair across from them. He was acting on an impulse, he knew, but they were going to find out eventually. "You've been wondering what's going on with me lately," Harry said as he sat down. Hermione and Ginny exchanged shocked glances and looked back at him. "I'm going to tell you… but this is something that I need your word you'll keep quiet."

They nodded, frowning slightly. ""Of course, Harry," said Hermione, as Ginny continued nodding.

"Ok," Harry said, drawing a breath. "You have to understand, I would have told you sooner… but I've still been dealing with this on my own.

"James Potter was not the first person to marry my mother."

Gasps escaped from both girls, and they instantly looked ashamed at that. He waved his hand dismissively, thinking that their reactions were hardly surprising.

"Apparently," Harry said, half sighing in distress. Though he'd come to terms with these abstruse insights on his life, he hardly enjoyed reprising them to his friends. "She began seeing someone else during her time at Hogwarts- she was only good friends with James..." he paused, glimpsing the calculating look on Hermione's face. He had an idea that she was slowly beginning to work his story out.

"You keep saying 'James'," Hermione murmured, eyeing Harry carefully. He nodded, averting his gaze from both her and Ginny, who had their gazes locked on him. "Harry, do you mean to say that he's not… James wasn't your father?"

"Not in the biological sense," Harry replied uneasily, feeling his breath catch in his throat.

"Do- do you know who it is?" Ginny apprehensively pressed after a short silence.

"It's... Snape," Harry uttered quietly, his voice so muted by anxiety that it was surprising the two girls had even been able to hear. By their expressions, however, it was apparent that they had. Both their jaws had dropped. Hermione had closed her eyes, seemingly at a loss for words. Ginny looked to be trying to sort the facts inside her head, making sense of everything.

"But he's always been so mean to you-" Ginny said, but she trailed off, not completing the thought.

"That's not all of it," Harry said then, somewhat comforted by her easy tone; unlike Ron's, it held no notes of accusation. "See, she became pregnant while married to Snape- pregnant with me. But before she could tell him… well, they ended their relationship. She begged Dumbledore to keep her secret, which he always has- until this summer.

"Why this summer?" asked Hermione. "Why not earlier, before-"

"He didn't think Snape would make a good father, from what I can gather."

Hermione shook her head. "But couldn't he have tried to give him a chance? Surely growing up with a somewhat brusque father is better than having none at all!"

"But you don't understand," Harry reasoned gently. "Believe me, I've been angry about it too… but I know why he did it. Snape and my mum didn't just split for no good reason-" He broke off, wondering if this was something he ought to be sharing with his friends. He sensed that Severus would be infuriated if he had any idea how much Harry was revealing to his friends.

"Why did they, then?" Ginny asked, and Hermione instantly shot a hard glare at her, one that clearly said the word, tactless.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He knew he ought not to answer truthfully… but something about their beseeching gazes and tones made him trust them. And so he began, launching into the story of how his Mother had woven a lie that had changed the course of his life, all owed to Snape's entry into Voldemort's service.

When he had finished, there was a long silence. Hermione and Ginny looked somewhat shocked, still, but it was fading from their expressions now. They seemed to be contemplating everything they'd just heard- Harry didn't blame them; it was quite a lot to absorb. And although it had been difficult, reiterating all of this to them, it was somewhat relieving. He felt a vague relief from the pressure of keeping this secret- it was no longer such a burden.

"That's a… very well put together story," Hermione commented.

Harry inclined his head in agreement, though he felt this was an odd thing for her to say at this moment. "Quoted almost directly from Snape and Dumbledore."

"So then, Dumbledore has affirmed the validity of this recalling of events?" Hermione questioned, apparently trying for subtlety.

Harry smiled appreciatively. It was heartening, for some reason, to see that his friends were thinking along the exact same lines he had been when he'd first heard this story. "It's true," Harry said, and his voice wasn't as mournful as he would have expected.

Hermione shook her head. "I still don't understand why Dumbledore would tell you now, of all times…"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, why wouldn't he have told you earlier?"

"Like I said…" Harry started. "My mother didn't see Severus-" he stopped himself again, but this time Ginny interrupted impatiently.

"You can call him Severus in front of us, you know," she said, and Hermione nodded in agreement. "That's your second time now, it's not as if we don't already know you're thinking it."

Hermione frowned. "I don't know why you seem to think it would offend us."

"Even if it is a bit strange…" Ginny offered, and Hermione shook her head again.

Harry considered them for a moment, assessing the truth of this statement. They seemed sincere, he decided. "From what Dumbledore had been told, Severus wasn't father material, and he was in complete agreement with my Mother that he would be horrible to me. He didn't know enough about him, he says. Not until I was about eight did he actually begin to trust and know Severus- but he thought I would be unstable if taken away from my family. He decided to wait till I came to Hogwarts… but given that we didn't react well to each other, he seemed to think it best if we didn't know.

"But now they've discovered there's this potion- I haven't even really been told what it does yet, apart from the fact that it will help me defeat Voldemort- but it requires the blood of a Death Eater who is also an intimate family member, such as a father- Snape's the only person that fills the category. He told Dumbledore about the potion, thinking it useless information, and then he was told… and then I found out in Occlumency lessons several weeks ago."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You mean he didn't even tell you?"

Harry shook his head, trying to keep his face blank. "He claims he was planning to."

"Do you think he would have?"

"Oddly," Harry said, pondering the peculiarity of his answer. "Yes."

"Well, this might be a good thing, right?" Ginny asked, looking unsure. "I mean, now you have a father…"

"How can he have found this out and still be awful to you?" Hermione questioned dolefully, shaking her head.

"Actually…" Harry said, thinking. "He hasn't been."

"But in Potions-"

"It's very important that no one finds out," Harry said. "If he suddenly changed his behavior towards me, there would be too many questions."

There was silence.

"Well, if he's your real father…" Ginny said thoughtfully. "Then why do you look so much like James?"

"Haven't asked," Harry admitted. "There haven't been any chances to, actually."

"You don't just… sit and talk sometimes?" Hermione asked.

"Not really…" Harry said. "You think I should?"

Both girls nodded, and Harry sighed to himself. They were probably right… he just hated the thought of the awkwardness of showing up at his door, suggesting a talk… but then, he did have a valid reason to talk to the man, now.

xxx

Quidditch tryouts were long and hard, and to make matters worse, Harry had to endure watching and sometimes playing with three positions worth of people who, frankly, did not know how to play Quidditch. Six people tried out for the position of Beater, only three of which managed to actually hit a Bludger. Seven people tried out for the position of Chaser, and only two spots were open, Katie Bell having already filled one position as captain and Chaser for the team.

Ginny was a shoe in, scoring almost every goal she attempted and performing nearly perfect passes in coordination with Katie Bell. The next two applicants, however, were not so wonderful. Alex Genero scored only three goals out of the ten attempts he made, and was finally put out of his misery when Dennis Creevey performed a horrific pass and broke his nose, sending him to the hospital wing. Creevey was sent off the field as well. In the end, Katie selected a fourth year named Mark Thomas. He wasn't a wonderful Chaser, but his effort was great- or at least that was what she had muttered to Harry.

Once the Beaters, George Sky and Carmen Mennot, had been chosen and were lined up with the Chasers, it was time for the Keeper to be tried. Only three other Gryffindors showed up to try out for this position, but Harry still feared that this would not help Ron. He'd performed wonderfully the previous year, but his bad set of nerves was more than likely to botch his show today.

Harry observed the three potential Keepers as they ran through drills, and saw competition for his friend in Simone Newell, a small, lightweight fifth year. Once Katie had narrowed her selection down to Ron and her, however, the choice was obvious. Simone was petite and soft spoken- which were perhaps more bearable qualities in a team member than were Ron's up and down measures of low confidence and over cockiness- but nevertheless, she seemed less of the Keeper material. Though her broom maneuvering skills were excellent and her attitude was great, she was no match to Ron's larger build and use of brute strength. If all else failed, Katie admitted in an undertone to Harry, whom she has seemed to accept as her assistant captain, Ron could bodily block the quaffle- Simone was likely to be cleared right off her broom in such an event.

Ron had not been openly hostile towards Harry, but he had been giving him the cold shoulder. They'd exchanged only a few words in the locker rooms, and Ron hadn't glanced in Harry's direction once in the entire duration of their tryouts. Now it was Harry's turn, and Ron gave him no more than a small nod as he left the field.

A bit stung and slightly nervous, Harry swung his leg over his Firebolt as Katie called the order to mount brooms. Waiting for his signal to kick off, he inspected his opponent. His name was Matthew, and he was very plain looking. He was average sized for a boy his age- he was a third year- but he was still smaller than Harry, which worried him. It was much easier to dive, speed, and maneuver at a moment's notice when you carried less weight on your broom, and that was a fact.

Katie blew the whistle, and Harry immediately rose up into the air, kicking off at that moment as though on instinct. His adversary watched him carefully and matched his height, hovering a short way across the field and eyeing the small gold ball that Katie had in between her fingers. With another blast of the whistle, she released it, and it sped off in the direction of the mountains. Harry immediately began circling the pitch, and was annoyed to find that the other boy was following closely on his tail. Harry rolled his eyes and sped up; Mark did the same.

Why, this child was mimicking his every move! Well, Harry thought to himself, if he wants to play that game… and after speeding once around the pitch, he pulled up sharply on his broom, shooting up much higher into the air. Of course Mark copied this as well, and had no idea that Harry had already spied the snitch very close to the ground. Once Harry had reached a height he knew to be too far for his opponent, he abruptly dove towards the ground, and just to see the look on Mark's face, glanced over his shoulder. The younger boy had tried to do this as well, but such a steep dive from such a high height appeared to have been more than he could handle, and he had resorted to a steadier descent. Harry laughed to himself and continued speeding towards the snitch, which had now changed directions. Mark tried half-heartedly to follow, still green from the previous move.

Unbeknownst to Harry, or anyone else on the pitch, however, an uninvited spectator was watching this whole performance a short way away, standing sheltered beneath the stands. He observed, with his hooded eyes, that this boy was actually very talented… not an observation he hadn't already made before. The difference now, however, was that he found himself marveling at it… almost proud of it.

Severus was not a man who typically swelled with pride at the sight of his students performing extraordinary tasks- he never would have guessed he would have an instinctive desire to come to his son's tryouts, and he never would have guessed that his performance would please him so. He had been sitting up in the headmaster's office, forcibly engaging in light conversation over a cup of tea, when he'd spied the obnoxious maroon robes of the Gryffindor Quidditch team flying in a distance. An innate curiosity had taken hold of him, and he'd excused himself, making his way down to the Quidditch pitch. He had no idea what he was doing there now- he only knew that he was, in fact, there, and he was there to watch Harry. And he knew that he was enjoying himself.

Tryouts ended, and the unsurprising announcement was made that Harry would retain his position as Seeker. Severus smiled to himself as Harry struggled to hold back a blushing smile as Ginny Weasley threw her arms around him in what appeared to be an embrace of congratulations.

Ginny pulled away from Harry, smiling, and Harry smiled awkwardly back at her. He didn't trust himself to smile truly without beaming like an idiot. Hermione dragged a begrudged looking Ronald Weasley over, offering also her congratulations in an appropriate one-armed hug, and then gave Ron a small shove. Harry looked doubtfully at Ron, hesitant to speak first, and unsure of how Ron would react. It took a moment, but finally, Ron gave him a small clap on the back, saying, "You deserved it, mate."

And Harry could tell things were going to be fine between them, even if it took some time for complete normalcy to return.

Severus watched Harry for only a moment more, and then, seeing the boy heading in his direction, turned and started to walk back towards the castle. He didn't feel the need to hurry; no one would think it out of the ordinary that he was strolling on the grounds, but if he were rushing to get back to the castle unseen, it was likely to raise suspicion. He didn't look back over his shoulder, he simply held his gaze forward and continued walking.

A short way back, Harry and his friends had rounded the corner, and were now standing in the precise spot Severus had been watching from. Harry had stopped, rather suddenly, at the sight of his professor walking back towards the castle; he instantly knew what it meant.

"Harry?" Hermione questioned, examining his expression. "What-"

"He came to watch," Ginny said quietly, and Harry nodded.

"Probably came to get a look at what his Slytherins are in for this year," Ron muttered. Hermione shot him a very nasty glare and returned her attention to Harry.

"Go catch up with him," Hermione said encouragingly, and Harry turned to her in alarm.

"What would I do that for?"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged incredulous looks, and Ron just shook his head at them.

"You guys don't mind?" he asked after a moment, looking back at them. All three (including Ron, however grudgingly) shook their heads, and he nodded in response.

"I'll see you back in the common room a bit later," he said, before shouting, "Professor!" across the grounds. Severus stopped and turned, considering Harry as he came to meet him.

Harry opened his mouth, and then rethinking what he was about to say, closed it again. Severus considered him for another moment, and then flicked his wand. "Muffliato," he said quietly. "Our conversation is now private."

"You came to watch," Harry said quietly, more moved by this now that he was looking at the man than when he'd first realized it.

Severus gazed at him for a moment, and then nodded, ever so slightly. "I did," he said, resuming walking. Harry walked along side of him. "You did… very well," Severus admitted, grimacing as he said it.

"Thank you," Harry said, inwardly laughing at the pained look on Severus' face. "I was a little worried when I saw the other seeker, but I guess size isn't everything."

"No, experience counts for quite a bit," Severus agreed, opening the castle door. "Though you are getting a bit big for the position…"

"Well, I've only one more year, anyways," Harry said, shrugging. "And I'm not that big."

"No, you're actually quite small for a boy your age," Severus said, raising his eyebrows. Harry glared at him, though not with much malice behind it. "I simply stated that you're a bit large to play the position."

"Mmm," Harry murmured, raising an eyebrow.

Severus stopped in front of the stairs down to the dungeons. "I'm heading down to my office, if you'd like to come," he said, tone softer than it usually was.

Harry nodded. "I've got something to talk to you about, anyways."

"Something very serious?" Severus inquired, studying Harry's expression.

"Well…" Harry said slowly, avoiding Severus' eyes, which had narrowed. "See, I met Malfoy this morning- he had sent me a note saying he had something to tell me and to meet him-"

Severus' expression had hardened considerably, and he abruptly cut Harry off, speaking sharply. "Maybe my rooms would be more-"

"I think they would," Harry said quickly, and Severus instantly understood his concern. Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy were standing shortly across the way, apparently having just come through the doors from outside, and were now watching Severus and Harry, talking quietly to each other.

"Be on your way, you two," Severus called warningly across the hall after he had subtly cancelled his spell, and then redirected his attention to Harry. "And you," he said harshly, making Harry flinch, "Move, now. I won't ask nicely again." He gave Harry a not so light smack on the back of the head, and Harry sent a dark glare his way before heading down the stairs.

When they reached Severus' rooms, Harry was surprised as he felt Severus roughly grab the back of his robes and thrust him inside. Severus slammed the door closed and instantly started on Harry, who took a few steps back. "You received a missive from Draco Malfoy and actually conceded to the request within it? Did you not stop to think of the consequences-"

"Well, I didn't think you would be so angry!" Harry argued, and Severus' eyes widened in disbelief.

"I'm not talking about those consequences, idiot boy. My reaction is hardly as severe a consequence as could have been inflicted on you; did it not cross your mind that he could have been trying to trap you? Or perhaps it wasn't really even Draco, but rather, someone disguised as him?"

Harry was stricken with the strong desire to roll his eyes and point out that these speculations were a touch fantastical, but he resisted. "Yes, I did think of these things," Harry replied restrainedly, having the sense to look somewhat ashamed, though he still thought Severus was overreacting.

"So you were acting despite the stupidity of your actions?" Severus sneered, looking at Harry with a controlled measure of disdain, though it was directed at his actions, not Harry himself.

"No- I-I- my actions weren't stupid!" Harry stammered out in protest. "I told someone where I was going!"

"Who?" Severus challenged, crossing his arms and giving Harry a skeptical look.

"Ginny," Harry said, unintentionally matching Severus' stance.

"Miss Weasley?" Severus scoffed. "And pray tell, what good would that have done you?"

"I gave her instructions to get Ron and Hermione and come looking for me if I wasn't back a quarter after seven," Harry said, though now that he voiced it, his plan did seem rather pathetic. By the time his friends would have been able to scour the castle from top to bottom in search of him, it might have been too late.

Severus was studying his impression, and raised his eyebrows. "Are you realizing now the inanity of your behavior?" He drawled, curling his lip slightly.

"I- yes, I suppose so," Harry grumbled reluctantly, sliding into a nearby chair and propping his head up with his palm.

Severus watched him for a moment, unable to understand just why he couldn't manage to feel quite as annoyed as he might have a year ago. He shook his head and sighed, and then moved to sit down on the couch. "Very well, Harry," he said, rolling his eyes. "I believe I've got my point across effectively enough. What was it you wanted to tell me?" His tone was still gruff and unforgiving, and perhaps a touch forced, but he was making an effort.

Harry threw him an annoyed look. "Oh yeah, now you want to know," he muttered as he sat up. "You're not going to like what I have to say."

"When do I?" Severus came back. "It's never stopped you before."

"No, I suppose it hasn't," Harry admitted, wishing Severus would lose the sarcastic edge to his voice and sound a bit more welcoming to this chat. "Listen," he said quietly, trying not to sound as desperate as he suddenly felt. The panicked feelings he'd felt back in the dungeons with Malfoy were returning now, and he felt rather queasy now that he was facing Severus, for he knew what the man's reaction would be. "You really can't go back to Voldemort."

"Don't-" Severus hissed, closing his eyes, "-say the name."

"Voldemort," Harry soundly pronounced, standing up. His irritation was swallowing his previous feelings of nausea, for which he was grateful. "You've worked under him before, and now you're working against him. You can say the name- what you've been doing is more dangerous than uttering those three syllables."

"Shut up," Severus spat irritably, and Harry huffed in frustration.

"Please," Harry said after a moment, and Severus looked back up at him, surprised at his imploring tone. It was an abrupt change. "Don't go back to him. He knows."

"He knows what?" Severus asked slowly, eyes narrowed.

Harry considered him for a moment. "Well… nothing yet… but Lucius Malfoy- he knows you're my father. Malfoy claims his dad is only waiting for you to slip up-"

"How would Lucius know about this?" Severus interrupted in a sharp, calculating tone, standing up as well.

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "But he does, and that's all that's important, right?"

"How did you react when Draco told you this?" Severus questioned, dark eyes narrowed.

"I- well, I- oh…" Harry came to a realization then. He should have acted as though he had no clue what Malfoy was talking about. Like an idiot, he hadn't realized that Malfoy could have been testing him- he'd foolishly given the other boy the perfect reaction. If there had been any doubt in his mind before he'd talked to Harry, there was none now.

Severus shook his head. "Child…" he groaned miserably, rubbing his forehead in distress.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, feeling truly remorseful this time.

"Sorry doesn't even begin to comprise it," Severus said somewhat mournfully, pacing the room.

"Will you stay here then?" Harry asked hopefully, watching the other man.

"This upcoming mission is worth more information than you can possibly fathom, Harry," Severus growled. "And still your primary concern is something as trivial as having me here…" he paused, only then recognizing the significance of that. "Why do you want me here?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Are you really asking that?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, is it such a difficult question?" Severus demanded, successfully achieving a tone ridden with irritation.

Harry frowned deeply at that. Admittedly, it hurt that Severus would even think such a thing, and that he'd had the insensitivity to say it was worse.

Severus watched Harry for a moment, suspecting by his lack of response that his words were being taken straight to heart. It took a moment's reflection, but finally, he relented and moved towards Harry.

"Listen," he said with some difficulty, and Harry refused to make eye contact. Sighing, he gently grabbed hold of Harry's chin and aimed the boy's gaze towards his face. "If I did not feel certain that I would be able to get myself out of any scrape with Lucius Malfoy, I would by no means dare to return to the circle. This is my duty, to ensure your safety. Yes- this is for your safety," he added insistently at Harry's doubtful look. "I am moreinclined to do this now than before. The information I gather now is gathered for much more personal reasons, not just for the good of the Order. You have to understand, Harry, that I am doing this because I feel it a vital necessity to protect you. I would rather give my life now and ensure you some safety because of it, than I would to stay here and risk losing you in the future."

"Why is it that everyone I care about has to give their lives for me?" Harry croaked, losing control of his voice. Strong tumults of an awful feeling swelled and forced up into Harry's chest and into his throat, making it ache and throb with surges of varied emotions. He couldn't express in words how dearly he needed this man to stay here. He had lost every single person he'd admired and looked up to in his life- every single person he might have, at least, if given the chance. Even if they weren't close- even if they hardly knew each other- he couldn't bear to lose the small ray of hope he'd been blessed with. And he'd never thought of Severus like that before- as an accessible remedy to his hopeless future - but he was. He was the only anchor Harry had left to this world… his friends, the headmaster… they couldn't compare to the sentiment and value of having a father.

Severus stared down at Harry; for a moment, he thought of bringing the boy into his arms. And as he watched his son struggle to hold back tears, so clearly distraught by his memories of loss and the prospect of a new loss… as he took a moment to fully grasp the fact that the boy wanted him kept alive so much, when no one had worried so deeply about him since his wife… he decided it wasn't such an atrocious idea.

He was prepared for the fact that he might be shoved away… but he was ready to try and be the father… not just the adult. With a softened expression, he murmured his son's name quietly and placed his hands on his shoulders, folding his arms delicately around him and pulling him close. Harry's form went stiff for a moment, uneased by the sudden closeness; but grateful for the comfort, he relaxed into his father's tall frame and rested his head on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him and holding tightly. Severus offered no more words, no assurances he couldn't honestly give, and no more soothing, parental gestures. But he stood there, and he held his son… and as he pulled back and looked at Harry's face, deep into his eyes, he saw his son, and he saw Harry- the two seemed one in the same now.

And in fact, they were.

xxx End Chapter 27 xxx

Chapter 28

In the Blood

Author's notes at bottom

xxx

Harry dared to look up at Severus' face as the two broke apart, and was heartened by his almost affectionate expression. This was certainly different from what he had expected- he had expected the atmosphere to feel tense and awkward, but he found now that he was actually quite comfortable. Severus ran a hand over his son's head and frowned a bit.

"Go sit on the couch," he said, and then made his way to the teapot over on the counter. He poured two cups of tea and made his way over to where Harry now sat, lowering himself onto the couch across from his son.

"I have no intention of losing my life," Severus said quietly, watching Harry's expression with calculating interest. Harry's brow wrinkled in a pained, doubtful fashion. "That was poorly phrased on my part, before. I understand…" Severus took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I understand why you want me here- that desire simply failed to seem rational in that moment."

"I don't just want you here… I need you here," Harry stated feebly, staring down into his cup. "I don't know you very well, and I'm not sure how well we'll get on… but I'm just starting to get used to the idea… it's like you said. I don't want to wonder what if."

"Nobody ever does," Severus said quietly. "I wouldn't go if not for the necessity of it," he offered, earning a scoff and a glare from Harry.

"You don't have to go," Harry said, finding it difficult to keep the biting edge from his voice. "You've heard Dumbledore-"

"Yes, I have," Severus broke in, voice raised slightly now. "More so than you have, clearly. You don't understand the implications of what he says. My role in the Order is absolutely compulsory to our success… I won't be swayed to believe otherwise," he added, for Harry looked as though he were about to object.

"There are many things that still need to be discussed before I leave," Severus continued, changing the topic when Harry fell silent for a few moments. "The brewing of that potion needs to be initiated, for one, so you'll need to be informed about that."

"Who's going to brew it?" Harry asked, temporarily sidetracked.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "I mean no offense, Harry, but I don't believe you are the one to do so. But you should be involved, certainly- it will take more than one person. I was considering asking Albus and Miss Granger to tend to it while I am away."

"Hermione?" Harry rasped, surprised that Severus would even consider her.

"She is," Severus drawled grudgingly, his lip curling ever so slightly, "remarkably talented at Potions, among other things. I would trust some of the other teachers here, but as they are of limited knowledge as to certain things such as the Order, my past…our present… there are far too many explanations to be made before requesting any help of them."

"But you trust Hermione?" Harry reiterated, raising his eyebrows. He made a mental note to tell her this later; she would be pleased, he had no doubt.

"She's proven loyal to you in the past, yes," Severus said, inclining his head. "And as I said- oh, don't make me say it again. Miss Granger and Albus, yes, they are my choices. Of course, she shall need to be enlightened… I was hoping that perhaps you could persuade her to sit with Albus and I-"

"Shouldn't I be included in this?" Harry broke in, indignation rampant in his disposition.

"You are, Harry," Severus assured him, his hard tone warning him not to interrupt further. "I believe it would be intelligible to have her sit with the three of us so that we could all discuss the further measures that will need to be taken. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Yes," Harry immediately complied. It would ease the tension to have Hermione there as they talked over the plans for the coming year, and she was tactful enough that she wouldn't add to the stress of the situation, either. "I'd like that."

"Well, I thought you might," Severus intoned quietly.

Severus' expressionless tone and turned, shadowed face might have implied apathy, but considering who the man was, Harry took this assurance as a sort of gesture. Rather than say anything, though, and add discomfort to the mix, Harry gave only a nod as a sign that he understood.

"When I found all this out," Harry started after a moment of silence, changing the topic a bit. "You asked if I had any questions, and I said I didn't."

"Yes," Severus said, sitting back and crossing his arms. "I seem to recall."

Harry's brow lowered briefly; he felt bad now, about the way he had responded before. He couldn't recall being very understanding, or respectful. "I'm sorry," he quickly atoned, averting his gaze. "I-"

"There's no need to apologize," Severus said, his voice edged with a sort of annoyance. Harry frowned again, and Severus amended in a soft tone, leaning forward, "You were not the only person shocked by this discovery, you know. You and I are on the same level, as far as that is concerned. I don't hold your reaction against you."

Harry considered that. Severus truly couldn't help but make people uncomfortable around him, Harry decided. He was getting better at amending that quickly; in a way, it was gratifying to see the obvious effort he was making to put Harry at ease. For all that, however, Harry didn't much like the constant switching back and forth between anxiety and solace.

Severus frowned, seeing that Harry had drifted into a new category of thought. He let the boy ponder a moment more, and then steered the conversation back in its original direction. "Was that recollection a means of guiding the conversation towards those questions, Harry?"

"What?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "Oh," he said, understanding. "Er- yes, I guess it was. Well, at the time… I think I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of my asking questions… but I do have some, if you wouldn't mind-"

"I told you that you were welcome to question me at any time, did I not?" Severus reminded him. Harry nodded. "Then one's conclusion would be that no, I wouldn't mind; correct?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly, looking off to the side. He was inwardly cringing; this conversation wasn't going well, by his standard for easy conversation, at least. He constantly felt as though he were being rebuked for the way he thought; he was almost hesitant to speak at all, for fear that Severus would correct him again, with more annoyance than the last time.

I'm making him uncomfortable, Severus thought with a grimace. He knew he was doing it, correcting the boy at every turn, but it was habitual- a proclivity he couldn't quite refrain from. He was used to constantly chastising his students, and for the past five years, his only approach with this child had been to insult him mercilessly. Try as he may, he couldn't quite dispense with the tendency, especially as it was the mechanism he often used with his Slytherins to make them feel more comfortable. As ironic as it would seem, they responded well to the corrections- if they weren't being told how to comport themselves, then they grew uncomfortable, not knowing what was expected of them. Perhaps Harry's problem was that he worried too much about what was expected of him. He had grown up with people constantly ridiculing him for his errors, not gently guiding him to remove them. Yes, that was a sensible conclusion, Severus decided. Criticism had quite a different effect on his son than he anticipated… therefore, he would have to work harder on avoiding this propensity.

Rather than prompt Harry to speak, Severus decided to sit back and wait for him to talk. Obviously, his probing would do no good. Harry already seemed bound to ask his questions, and letting him do so on his own terms seemed the only way to make him comfortable.

Harry was silent for a few more minutes, deciding which questions he would ask first. He had a lot of queries, of course, but which ones were appropriate at this time?

He decided to start with the most direct, and least emotionally involved one.

"Why do I look like James, and not you?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Severus looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and refrained from commenting on the fact that he had expected this question far earlier.

"I spoke with the headmaster about this, myself," Severus admitted, hoping that by including that he had been just as confused, he would put Harry at more ease. "Lily had to make this whole scheme believable, obviously, otherwise she wouldn't have-" he paused here, and decided he'd rather avoid that topic as much as possible. "She had a muggle midwife help her deliver the baby, and as soon as you were two weeks old, she, James, and Dumbledore performed a complex blood binding spell."

"Blood binding spell?" Harry repeated, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Yes," Severus affirmed, nodding. "It's a complex one, but not unheard of. They were all quite talented, so it was a plausible option. Some blood must be acquired from the willing donor, and the first stage of the spell essentially strips all the properties of the blood except for the one desired."

"So after that, it's-"

"Not really blood, but rather, a sort of supplement. In the next step, blood must be acquired from the recipient, and it is stripped of the properties that the other blood is left with. Once the two are bound, the blood is- ah- given back to the recipient, and in the third step of the spell, the sealing stage, the rest of the body responds to the command to structure itself according to that blood."

"But how-"

"I'm explaining it in as simple a way possible, Harry," Severus said. "But as I said, it's a very complicated spell. All of your blood reshapes itself in the form of the blood being given back… you have none of James' actual blood in you, but are genetically structured to fit his mold."

"Sounds a bit morbid," Harry said quietly, half to himself.

"Most ancient magic does," Severus agreed, nodding his head to the side. "But it's not nearly as gruesome as it sounds. I assure you, your mother would not have let them bleed you- a minimal amount of blood is actually used in the spell. It's mostly magic that induces the transformation."

"So it transformed me?"

"More… it laid out the course your development was to follow. You gradually became a replica of James Potter- you grew as his son would have grown."

Harry's head was beginning to hurt, he was trying so hard to understand. "But if I was supposed to look like him, then why do I have some of my mother's features?"

"I said it used a minimal amount of blood, you recall," Severus explained. "Such a small amount could not force your body to take the exact form his had. You are still very much your mother's son- you still acquired all the traits from her that you would have even without the spell."

"So basically," Harry said slowly, trying to work it out for himself. "The traits I would have received from you were stripped, and replaced by traits from James?"

Severus hesitated to answer, and then reluctantly said, "In the simplest of terms… yes. That is exactly what happened."

"Simple terms are better than long winded explanations," Harry said, tone mildly defensive. "But that makes sense. Erm, will I ever get to see what I really look like?"

"We could perform a second blood spell- one that would strip the effects of the last one- but we wouldn't be able to achieve your current appearance again. I think that would cause much confusion… among other things," Severus concluded dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, the spell is a part of your appearance. The face you see in the mirror every day is what you look like- it's not some illusion. It's you."

"And you're fine with it?" Harry questioned apprehensively, unsure whether he wanted to hear Severus' response.

Severus considered him silently for a moment, and then nodded. "It's not my appearance to worry about. I shall endeavor to move past it, at any cost." His words were deceptively uncaring, but Harry caught a lilt of humor in his tone, and smiled slightly. In honesty, Severus really sounded like he couldn't care less what Harry looked like, and that was… relieving. The Wizarding World in its entirety judged Harry by his appearance- the scar on his head seemed to cause everyone to label him as a hero. Severus looked at him and saw… him. He didn't want to see the exterior of his past enemy, so he looked beneath the surface. Ironic scenario, but it worked.

"Are there more questions you wish to ask?" Severus inquired now, apparently trying for an easy expression. He couldn't quite achieve the mild look he was going for.

Harry thought for a moment. Honestly, he wanted to ask about his mother… but he wasn't sure if now was the time. No, perhaps another day. A day when Severus had more time, and when Harry was more prepared to deal with some of the responses to his question. He steered the conversation towards more pressing topics. "The potion," he said suddenly. "No one ever quite explained it to me."

"Ah," Severus murmured, nodding. "Understandable. Perhaps we can spare having to repeat this several times, though?"

"What do you mean?" Harry pressed, narrowing his eyes.

"I mean that now might be a good time to include the Headmaster and Miss Granger in our conversation."

"Oh," Harry said, thinking that should have been obvious. "Actually," he said abruptly, this topic only now occurring to him. "Before we do that… I do have another question."

"And what is that?" Severus leaned forward, dark hair falling into his face. He looked particularly intimidating in this moment, narrowing his calculative eyes, preparing for the coming question as though he were in the middle of an interrogation. Harry had the sudden impression that Severus could very easily sense, by Harry's attitudes, what sort of questions were coming.

"Why don't you trust Malfoy?" Harry asked, going out on a limb, and hoping that Severus wouldn't consider this too brash a question. He didn't seem to. He contemplated his answer for a moment, tracing his thin lips as he formulated a reply.

"I have many reasons," he started slowly, eyes still narrowed. "Consider who his family is. Consider how he's been raised. Lucius Malfoy is a person whose favor I do not mind having, but factually speaking, he is no real friend to me. He would turn his back on me in a minute's notice, if it proved beneficial to him. Draco has adored his father since the time he began to walk. I worry that the same values have been pushed on him- I don't trust him. Familial qualities are often the hardest to be rid of. Even if he desired to change, I think he might have too shaky a foundation of morals to do so. And before you point out that I was wrong for judging you by your family, realize that you didn't grow up with the man I took you for. You couldn't have learned to behave as Potter did, and looking back, I was foolish for thinking it simply ran in your blood. Draco, however, has grown up with the man I think bears such influence on him, so it's a very likely scenario that he will turn out almost identical to him."

"You changed," Harry pointed out. He instantly wished he could take that comment back- Severus' dark eyes were hardened, and he'd lowered his chin, looking out at Harry from the shadows created by his curtains of black hair.

"I grew up with very different circumstances," he growled darkly. "Do not compare me to Draco Malfoy. You know very little about the reasons for why I joined… and why I left."

"I'm not defending Malfoy," Harry hastened to say, but it made no difference. "I don't trust him either… I was just… curious. And I don't mean to compare you to him-"

"Spare me the apology," Severus said, getting up from where he sat.

"But I-"

"No harm has been done," Severus insisted, though the glower didn't disappear from his face. "If you'd truly affronted me, I wouldn't insist you stop apologizing."

Harry was taken aback a bit at that; he simply didn't know what to say now. Severus just looked so… offended. He said so, and Severus just shook his head, pouring himself a second cup of tea.

"I don't expect you to understand the depth of everything you say, or everything I do," Severus said, summoning Harry's empty cup to where he stood. "My past is not a topic that puts a smile on my face, admittedly… however," he sighed grudgingly. "Mine is a history that you will need to be educated on."

"I don't want to inquire about things I shouldn't-"

"Harry," Severus mildly rebuked him. "If you are treading on ground that ought not be trodden, I will tell you, you can be assured of that. Now, I believe this topic is exhausted. Have you any more questions?"

"No," Harry said.

Severus watched Harry, an apprehensive look of contemplation on his face. He seemed to be struggling with something, but said nothing. In the end, he sat down on the couch again, and sighed. "It's a bit late to go into this whole ordeal with explaining the Potion," Severus said tiredly. "Perhaps after Potions class on Thursday would be a better time… that way we won't have to go through the trouble of tracking down Miss Granger, and I can tell Albus ahead of time that we'll need to speak with him."

"Oh, alright," Harry said, somewhat disappointedly. He had hoped to hear about it tonight… but he got the idea that he'd offended Severus to the point of the man not wanting him around anymore. He set his cup of tea on the table in front of him, and rose ungracefully, trying to smooth out his robes as he did so. "I suppose I'll just be on my way, then, and-"

"Harry," Severus gently chided. "I didn't mean that you have to leave. Besides, you've barely touched your second cup of tea. It would be an awful insult to the Headmaster to waste his gift, wouldn't it?"

Harry gazed at him perplexedly for a moment, and then awkwardly sat back down. "I don't have any more questions, so you don't ha-"

"We don't need to talk," Severus said, sipping from his cup. "Just sit- and stop folding your hands in your lap as if we're in the middle of an etiquette lesson. We're not."

The man really didn't know how not to be harsh, Harry mused as he resumed drinking his tea… this time in comfortable silence.

xxx

The Wednesday N.E.W.T. Potions class came more quickly than Harry expected. He had notified Hermione at the beginning of the week that they would be skipping their lunch to meet with the Headmaster and Professor Snape, and she had been no less than ecstatic. His friends were attempting to take a warm approach to Harry's new discovery, and he appreciated it- but somehow, he got the idea that Hermione's enthusiasm was completely genuine, and had nothing to do with him. He could tell that she loved the idea of being asked for assistance by a teacher who gave her so little respect in class, and that she felt quite useful, helping in the brewing of such an important substance.

Harry's anticipation to learn about the topic that had been tugging at his mind all week kept his concentration waning throughout the lesson that day. As a result, his performance in class was less than topnotch, earning him a long and harsh lecture from Severus in front of the entire class. Of course, he didn't think it was such a huge deal that he had knocked over a vial of highly acidic dragon bile- accidents happen, right? But the Professor had had a very different mindset. By the time class was over, and Harry was done writing lines in the corner where he had been shamefully isolated, he was feeling much less generous towards the man than he had at the beginning of class.

The class filed out, and Severus placed silencing wards on the doors before turning back to Harry.

"Where was your head today?" he asked rather harshly, making Harry darken his glare at him.

"I just- it was an accident," Harry groused defensively, crossing his arms.

"And accident that could have cost someone a limb if the situation had played out differently," Severus added, narrowing his eyes at Harry's resentful demeanor.

Harry felt compelled to point out that there was a reason for the hospital wing's existence, but felt it would hardly make his situation better to do so. He decided to glare at the wall until the Headmaster arrived, earning Severus' annoyance with him in the process.

"Are you going to brood in that corner the whole time?" Severus called from across the room as he sat down at his desk. Hermione was still gathering her things into her bag, but stopped to look warily at Harry's reaction.

Harry tried to ignore the man. He wasn't brooding. Severus had been entirely awful that class period, and he knew that this hadn't just been an act. The Potions Master really had thought his actions stupid and deserving of punishment, otherwise he wouldn't have given him a zero on the assignment, and he wouldn't have given Harry lines to write.

"You're really being rather childish," Severus commented, looking back down at the book on his desk.

"I am not being childish," Harry protested through his teeth, meriting a scoff from Severus' corner.

"So you think glaring petulantly at the wall is being mature, do you?" Severus responded, the question rhetorical. "Perhaps the next time the Dark Lord asks me to do something I'd rather not, I'll sit and pout in a corner... yes, I'm quite sure that will work... rather useful strategy..."

Hermione cleared her throat a bit, apparently out of nervousness. Throwing Severus a resentful, yet somewhat mild glare, Harry went and sat next to Hermione, not feeling generous enough to continue his little scene with his father.

"Have you talked to Ron lately?" Harry asked her quietly, venturing a glance towards Severus. Harry knew he could probably hear them, but he was showing no signs of interest in their conversation.

"A bit," Hermione admitted uncomfortably, grimacing.

"He's still not quite alright with this, is he?" Harry asked sullenly, looking down.

Hermione deliberated for a moment, and then shrugged regretfully. "I can't say he's pleased with you… or that he's quite adjusted… but he is trying."

"He said he was fine with- well, what I told him, and that he was just angry that I'd waited…" Harry said, watching Hermione's expression. "I get the feeling that there's more to it than that."

Again, Hermione shrugged. "It is something to get used to…"

"You didn't seem so shocked when I told you," Harry pointed out, narrowing his eyes.

Apprehensively, Hermione admitted, "Well, I knew something was going on… I just… was prepared, I suppose."

"Prepared?" Harry repeated slowly.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, looking as uncomfortable as ever. "I'd already prepared myself for the most shocking of news… Mine and Ginny's understanding reactions were a result of the bracing I'd already provided. We knew our astonishment wouldn't help you any…"

"Ginny knew I had something to tell her?"

"Well, it was a bit obvious, after the previous night, when you'd asked for her help like that-"

"She told you about that?" Harry inquired angrily, raising his voice. A fluttering sound came from the corner- Severus was shuffling his papers. Harry glanced apologetically at him; he'd forgotten the man was even in the room.

"She told you about that?" Harry inquired again, somewhat indignant.

"Only after that next morning," Hermione answered hastily, a note of panic in her pitch. "It hardly mattered after that, right?"

A knock sounded at the door, and Harry looked up. Severus glanced over at him, and what he did next came as a small surprise to Harry. He went to his office door, looked quickly at Harry, seemingly evaluating something, and then shooed the Headmaster into the hallway, stepping out with him. It was a considerate gesture, Harry reflected. Still… he was growing steadily agitated with the friend in front of him.

Returning his attention to Hermione, Harry gave her an annoyed look. "Do you girls share everything? Do you just sit around having conversations behind my back about all my many problems?"

"No, Harry, of course not!" Hermione exclaimed, looking positively scandalized, and a bit hurt. Harry hadn't meant it that way, and tried to rid his face of the glare he held, and replace it with a more open expression. Hermione, however, went on, sounding more and more fretful by the word. "We just care about you, that's all! Really- please don't read anything else into this. We rarely talk about things you've confided in us; it's just that this has come as such a shock to us all, and I know we've done a good job hiding it, not to sound full of myself, but it doesn't change the fact that we've been delivered with stunning news and we're just trying to cope, honest, Harry."

Her tones were desperate, as was the yearning expression on her face. She seemed earnest, so Harry resigned himself to simply nodding. He still didn't like the idea that they were comparing notes behind his back, or so it seemed, but he didn't wish to burden Hermione any more with his complaints. He would talk to Ginny later, though. She seemed a better outlet for consultation about this problem. She was too strong willed to let his worries become criticisms directed at her.

"Are you angry?" Hermione asked in a small voice, and Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm not. I'm just thinking."

"Well, if you want to talk about what you're thinking of…" Hermione trailed off, her 'good friend' expression firmly reset in place.

Harry resisted the strong urge to snort and roll his eyes. He had just been talking about it, and she'd practically had an epileptic fit. "It's fine, Hermione," he assured her, getting up and walking towards the door. "But I do think we should get this whole- er- meeting, with the headmaster and Professor Snape underway."

"I said you could call him Severus in front of me," Hermione gently chided him, and this time, Harry did roll his eyes.

"Yes, I remember perfectly, Hermione. I think it sort of depends on my mood, anyways, what I call him." He tried to sound easygoing, but he was feeling a little uptight now. Actually, he had been feeling that way prior to talking to her, so he couldn't quite place all the blame on her shoulders.

Harry cracked the door open, and discovered the Headmaster and Professor Snape standing there, apparently making small talk.

"Erm," Harry stammered lamely, not quite knowing what to say. You can come in now? No, that didn't seem appropriate. We're done? No, that didn't either.

Severus got the point, however, saving Harry the trouble. He nodded brusquely and led Dumbledore inside, closing the door behind him.

"Down to business, then?" Dumbledore prompted good-naturedly, taking a seat next to the one Severus had just chosen.

Harry nodded, Hermione sat forward attentively, and Severus merely acknowledged the Headmaster with a brief but purposeful glance, which Harry supposed was a sign of consent.

"Everyone is agreed," Dumbledore announced into the silence. "Severus, would you like to start, or shall I?"

Severus seemed to contemplate that for a moment, and then tilted his head to the side. "Which one of us do you think is more likely to interrupt?"

"Perhaps Professor Snape should start," Harry offered; Dumbledore smiled lightly at this, and Severus shot him a look- though his glare was almost amused looking.

"I'd like to get to the point," Severus said now, sitting forward. "So I'll do that quickly then. However, Miss Granger, I need your word that what is said in this room stays in this room."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione returned seriously, and Severus nodded.

"Approximately a month ago, the Dark Lord mentioned a Potion that would be of great use to Harry. He mentioned it only in passing, but I was quick to examine the possibility of its use. I was disappointed to find that some of the ingredients would be unattainable, but after discussing it with the Headmaster, I found that this conclusion was quite wrong. We will be able to acquire all the ingredients- most have already been collected, and a few we are still waiting for.

"Miss Granger, if you would perhaps write this down, I should explain to you and the Headmaster which ingredients will need to be used, and how the properties of each affect the potion, in case we encounter problems along the way." Severus reached over to his desk and pulled a sheet of paper out of the book Harry had seen him working from earlier. He surveyed it quickly, and then read from it, "We will need the following: My blood, and the blood of a separate Death Eater; we will need an oath of secrecy to be taken by that Death Eater near the completion of the potion. We will require some part of Voldemort, some bodily fragment. The blood of a faithful friend, brewed for thirty days- Miss Granger, I hoped perhaps you would-"

Hermione looked quite ashen faced at this, but she nodded with a strong sense of resolve burning in her eyes. She looked quite determined to carry out the task being presented to her.

"We shall need also the hair of a veela… Harry, a piece of your flesh… and I've included the list of herbs that will need to be combined in preparation for this brewing, Miss Granger," Severus finished, handing the parchment to her.

She took it, an unpleasant expression on her face, and then looked back up at Severus. "This seems… a bit dark, sir."

"Little as you trust me," Severus said, with a dark edge to his voice. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Severus held up a hand, forestalling her. "Do you think the Headmaster would allow me to force you to perform Dark Magic?"

"I'm not saying I'm worried about what I will have to do, Professor," Hermione said, voice stronger now. "I'm worried about the effects this will have on Harry. I'm right, aren't I? There is Dark Magic involved in this."

Severus hesitated to answer, and then turned to the Headmaster. "Perhaps you should explain."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "This isn't quite what you would call Dark Magic, Miss Granger, and Harry, but yes, it does have elements of the Dark Arts in it. You will have noticed by now that it requires a varied list of rather perverse components, but as its outcome is not the harm of another individual, no, it is not classified as the Dark Arts. Its purpose is to protect Harry, and change him in a way that will break the connection with Voldemort. They will no longer share the same power- this will bring about the power that the Dark Lord knows not, you understand?"

"I understand," Hermione said slowly, digesting that. "That makes sense… but you don't think that changing Harry that way could be dangerous, if something goes wrong?"

"It does have some considerable risks, of course," Severus agreed. "But no risk is greater than allowing this game between him and the Dark Lord to continue. We will be careful to avoid these things-"

"Wait, what things?" Harry questioned, looking worried. "No one ever mentioned any risks."

"You really want to know them?" Severus asked.

"Yes," Harry insisted, nodding.

"There are many. You could sprout extra limbs, die after a fortnight, possibly even damage your magic, changing it to the point of strengthening your connection with Voldemort, and possibly fusing the two of you into one when you try to fight against each other. There are many errors to be made, which is why only we three are going to work on this." Severus paused, examining the look of horror on Harry's face. "I don't wish to concern you," he said. "I didn't tell you before because it seemed unnecessary- I doubt any of these things will happen to you."

"Why do you doubt that?" Harry asked, looking for some reassurance, since the future was looking pretty dim from his standpoint.

"Because," Severus said, "I'm working on it. I will not let anything happen to you as long as it is within my power. And I will run it through various tests to ensure you are safe to take it."

Harry gazed at him for a moment, and then slowly accepted Severus' words. He just prayed the man wasn't lying to him- he didn't really like the sound of any of those possibilities.

"Sir, how long will this potion take to brew?" Hermione inquired, frowning as she continued to intently study the book before her. She had fetched it from Severus desk during his warnings to Harry.

"Thirty fortnights," Severus said, and Hermione looked up sharply at him. "Yes, sixty weeks."

"Wh- that's more than a year!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are we to do if Harry ends up facing Voldemort before then?"

"That is why we are planning to keep him safe inside the castle," Severus said, aiming a pointed look at Harry. "So don't go running about, or you'll have me to answer to."

Harry wouldn't have thought Severus could manage to make a sentence like that sound caring in the least bit, but he had. Harry nodded solemnly, thinking to himself that perhaps this year, he might actually listen to this advice.

"I have some more questions, sir," Hermione said.

"Of course you do," Severus returned, and at her offended look, smirked.

"They're good questions," she muttered, and Harry coughed to cover up a small laugh.

"All questions are good questions, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Ask away."

"Well… how does this work?"

"That's what we call a very broad question, Miss Granger," Severus drawled, rolling his eyes. "Just because a question covers every topic you could possibly inquire on, doesn't make it a good question. It just makes for a long answer."

"Then perhaps you could give her that answer, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, receiving a sharp glare from the Potions Master.

"The reason that book," Severus indicated the one she was holding. "Is giving you difficulty in understanding is because it simply explains the properties needed to complete this sort of Potion. To put it somewhat simply, the combination of the elements on that list I gave you will first replicate the magic in the connection Harry and the Dark Lord share. When imbibed by Harry, the deactivating ingredients, the Veela Hair, the blood of a loyal friend, and the magic from the oath of secrecy from a second Death Eater, will begin to dissolve the elements of Harry's magic, along with the same elements in the Potion, that formulate the connection. Therefore, connection gone."

"Oh," Hermione mouthed, eyes wide. This all was very confusing to Harry, but she apparently seemed to understand, and was amazed by the complexity. "I think I understand. So the part of Voldemort and the blood of one of his loyal followers combine to represent the connection he shares with them. Your blood links Harry's to Voldemort's, since you are connected to both of them, and then they are all linked. The Veela Hair, in its purity, breaks down the dark elements of this connection-It's almost like a muggle vaccine!" To that, Hermione was met with mostly silence, and she quickly continued, "The blood of a loyal friend is a sacrifice that restores protection, when it combines with the blood of a close family member, who also makes the sacrifice. And the oath of the Death Eater represents… some sort of magical connection to Voldemort?"

Severus was nodding. "Very clever. Yes, you've got the basic idea."

Hermione looked very pleased at that, and gave Harry a small, self-satisfied smile. He shook his head, but returned the smile, which was a bit weak. He really hated the sound of all this blood binding- it reminded him of the spell that had been performed on him as a child, and it had changed him then. He didn't really want to change as a result of magic, not again, and especially not when it was changing from the inside. But then, he didn't really have a choice.

"And the herbs are there to induce the binding and such?" Hermione was going on in the background. Harry drowned them out, and sat in contemplation as they continued talking.

Was there any way to get out of this? Was there another way to break the connection and defeat Voldemort? Not only his destiny was being affected by the expectations he was to live up to, but now, they were going to completely remake him in order for him to do so. It didn't seem right… it didn't seem fair. And hadn't the Dark Lord marked him as his equal, not a future version of him? Damnit, he wouldn't be able to answer all these questions himself, either. He would probably just be kept in the dark… again…

Unless, perhaps… unless he decided to ask his father. After all, wasn't that what fathers were for? To help you solve your problems?

Harry looked up at Severus, who was still engaged in conversation with Hermione. Dumbledore was looking over the book now, a concentrated look on his face. Yes, Severus was definitely Harry's best option, if he wanted answers.

xxx

Friday came, and Harry excused himself from breakfast, making his way down to Severus' dungeons. He knew that his father was leaving on a mission for Voldemort today, and though he would be returning after the weekend, Harry hated to see him go. Though they spent little time together, that was improving, and Harry was getting quite used to the feeling of having someone to go to. Even if he had no problems, Harry still felt better going to sleep at night knowing there was someone in the castle who wouldn't turn him away, or shun him for his problems. After all, he'd made many mistakes in the past, and Severus still hadn't rejected him… he'd actually overcome five years of resentment and hate in only this past month. That was saying something.

Harry knocked on the door to Severus' rooms, and was answered a few moments later. Severus opened the door, and then lowered his gaze to see Harry standing there. Wordlessly, he stood aside for Harry to enter, and then closed the door.

"Aren't you supposed to be at breakfast?" Severus chided, returning to a box he had been sorting through when Harry had knocked.

"I came down to see you," Harry explained, sitting on the couch and watching Severus.

"Yes, I can see as much," Severus commented dryly, lifting his dark eyes for only a second.

"I wanted to say goodbye before you left," Harry said, feeling the need to further justify his visit.

Severus nodded. "I hope you're not about to attempt dissuading me from leaving again," he said.

"No…" Harry sighed, looking down. "Though I still wish you wouldn't. But I know you… you have to."

Severus paused for a moment, looking somewhat regretful as he placed his hands on the box, leaning on it a bit as he thought about that statement. He looked towards Harry, and grimaced. "You're making me feel relatively guilty for leaving," he said, sounding vaguely astonished. He shook his head.

"I will be back soon," he promised, dropping a small bag by the door and heading into his room for a moment. He came back out empty handed a moment later, but Harry paid no attention to that. He was still thinking of a way to get the man to stay.

"Promise you'll let me know if anything goes wrong?" Harry questioned.

Severus rolled his eyes in response. "I can hardly step out every half an hour and floo to Hogwarts to let you know things are going alright, and if something does happen, I won't have time to sit down and write a letter."

"Fine," Harry said softly, realizing how stupid he'd sounded. "Just be careful, then."

"I'm never anything but," Severus said, stepping towards Harry. Harry frowned. Why couldn't he just come out and say what he meant? There was no reason for the constant gibes and evasive responses. Harry longed to point this out, but Severus interrupted his thoughts.

"I hate to cut this short," Severus said, "but I must leave by ten this morning, and that's only an hour away. I must bid you goodbye now."

"Alright," Harry said, stepping towards the door.

"Harry," Severus said gently, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder to pull him back. "I promise I will be careful. Better?"

Harry looked at him curiously for a moment, wondering how he was so perceptive about what was bothering him, and then nodded. "Better," he agreed, offering a small smile. "Goodbye."

Severus nodded and closed the door after Harry stepped out into the Corridor. Harry stared at the door for a moment more, a feeling of sadness filling him. Sighing, he turned and headed towards Gryffindor Tower. He just hoped that he would be down here again sometime soon, and without Severus suffering the after effects of Voldemort's rage…

xxx End Chapter 28 xxx

Chapter 29

Friend or Foe

Author's notes at the bottom

xxx

So far, Magic on the Offense had proven to be quite an interesting class. It was a bit like Dueling Club, in Harry's opinion, with the exception of now having a competent teacher and being skilled in Defense, which leveled the playing field quite a bit.

The teacher, Professor Mortan, was a firm but benevolent man. He was middle aged, probably in his late thirties. His features were prominent, but the edges of his face were soft. He was tall, and had a powerful presence when he drew himself up to his full height. He projected a tough, but not sinister image. He owned his classroom, and everyone in there knew it; there was no chance of getting away with mischief, and one didn't risk lazing about.

Today, however, Harry's heart simply wasn't in what he was doing. His father had left earlier that morning, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate on the minor duel he and Ron were having, using only blasting curses as offensive moves. Ron seemed eager to forget their argument and Harry wasn't eager to bring it up, as much as he wondered what had brought about the change. Perhaps Ron had simply realized the unfairness in being angry with Harry over something he couldn't very well control, but Harry had a strong feeling that Hermione was the more likely catalyst behind the change. Still, despite Ron's newly agreeable nature, Harry felt anxious over the forced nature of their conversations; he was almost a bit too cheery to be believed. Between his Father's absence and his preoccupation with Ron's behavior, Harry was quite distracted and kept letting Ron get moves by him far too easily.

Ron didn't seem to notice. As their teacher instructed them to once again construct their blocks, Ron eagerly raised his own wand, quickly contemplating the next spell he would hurl Harry's way. And it was, indeed, a good one. Harry's block faltered; Ron's curse had penetrated it, and Harry received a sharp blow to the arm. Ron yelled in victory; Harry sullenly sat himself on a nearby crate.

Twice during this class Ron managed to do the exact same thing, and by the end, Harry was quite sick of Magic on the Offense. The Professor announced, as they gathered their things to leave class, that the next week, those who had been constructing blocks would be given a turn at aiming the spells, so doing the reading would be advisable. Harry wasn't looking forward to this as much as he might have in normal circumstances.

Just three days, Harry mentally braced himself. Three days until he returns and I know that everything will be all right… just three.

xxx

"Harry, are you coming down for dinner?" Hermione asked, sliding back into her jumper and moving to stand with Ron.

"I don't know," Harry said irritably, rubbing his temples and glaring at the book in front of him. He'd been trying to concentrate on his Transfiguration homework for an hour now, but his attention kept waning, and now his head was pounding.

"I think it'll probably do you some good," Hermione said, striding over to him and closing the book he was staring at. He looked up at her and opened his mouth to tell her off, but she fixed him with an irrefutable look of insistence and tugged him up by the arm. "How do you expect to keep up with your schoolwork and attend Quidditch if you don't eat?" She questioned, leading him towards the door.

"Ron, kindly ask Hermione to stop imitating your mother," Harry complained as Hermione dragged him out the portrait hole.

"Is that a slight on Hermione or my Mum?" Ron inquired, half jokingly, as he followed at a distance.

As it turned out, Harry was actually a lot hungrier than he'd anticipated. When the food on the table appeared, and the tempting smells began wafting his way, he realized just how long he'd been neglecting his stomach for. He began to pile his plate full with red potatoes and steaming roast with gravy.

Ron looked impressed, and Hermione quirked her lips and said, "I thought you weren't hungry."

Harry shot her a look. "Apparently I was wrong."

"Well, I can see one reason you'll be glad you came down to dinner," Hermione said after a moment, while Harry began to voraciously devour his food.

"Yeah Hermione, you've already said-" started Harry through a mouth full of food, but Hermione huffed impatiently and shook her head.

"No, I mean, look!" And she pointed up to the head table, where Hagrid sat deep in conversation with Professor Sprout.

"He's back!" Harry swallowed his food and waved heartily in Hagrid's direction, but to his surprise, Hagrid glanced over briefly, seemed to scowl to himself, and turned back to his conversation.

"Well, that was weird," Ron remarked at Harry's side.

"No, it wasn't," said Hermione in a low voice. "None of us is on his class list for Care of Magical Creatures, are we?"

"Oh," said Ron and Harry rather lamely, and Harry realized that he would have to add guilt to the list of emotions currently clouding his mind.

"Well, he can't stay mad at us forever," Harry said resolutely after a moment of thought. "We'll go down and see him after dinner, explain everything. There's no way he'll turn us away if we just show up on his doorstep."

But this was not true, Harry had come to find out, as he and his friends stood outside of Hagrid's hut, pounding on the door to no avail.

"Hagrid, let-us-in!" Harry yelled, punctuating each word with another fist to the door. Next to him, Hermione was pleading.

"Hagrid, we want to explain, let us talk to you! Come on, we came all the way down here to see you and we're not leaving until you let us in! You don't want us lingering out here after dark, do you-?"

Apparently, this was exactly the right thing to say, as the door shortly swung open to reveal a very large man who was breathing quite heavily. "You three shouldn' be out here!" Hagrid growled at them, but he looked secretly quite pleased as he stepped back to let them in. "I mean it- if Professor Dumbledore knew I was lettin' you in-"

"He'd be a lot happier than if he knew you were keeping us out," Harry said resolutely as he, Ron, and Hermione took seats around his table. "Besides, we haven't seen you in ages! Where've you been?"

"Well, I should be sendin' yeh on yer way," said Hagrid, but he sounded resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to do that. "But I s'pose it involves you three, in er way. Professor Dumbledore has been helpin' me ter find a better home fer Grawp, where he'd be safe from You-Know-Who and the other giants. 'Bout halfway through the summer, we foun' him a right decent place in the mountains. But o' course, I couldn't just leave 'em there- had to get 'em settled in first, didn't I? Took a few more weeks than planned. Not that you three should mind," Hagrid then added, his tone taking a bitter turn, "not as though my bein' gone has been interferin' with yer lessons, now is it?"

"Hagrid, we're so sorry," said Hermione plaintively. "It's just- none of us is planning on going into a career that needs your class, and of course we all really enjoyed your lessons-" Harry had to give Ron a kick under the table, here, as he had started to scoff. Ron hastily changed the sound into a coughing fit. "But we're N.E.W.T. students now, we've got to think about our futures!"

"Yeah, I thought yeh'd be saying summat like that," Hagrid said concedingly, shaking his head. "But yeh could have given me a heads up, yeh know," he added scoldingly. "Don' feel good, gettin your class lists an findin' out that way- nasty surprise, that was."

"We're sorry, Hagrid," said Harry, and he truly meant it.

"'S'alright, Harry, I'm sure yeh've had enough ter be gettin' with, this summer," Hagrid then said, turning a softened expression on Harry. "How're yeh doin'?"

Harry, for his part, didn't know how to answer that question, and for a moment his voice caught in his throat. Hagrid's query was a swift reminder of Sirius, for Harry knew that his death and Harry's grief were the topics of questioning. But then, there was a whole story of Harry's summer that Hagrid knew nothing of, and Harry felt instantly tired at the thought of explaining, once again, how he had come to find out that Snape was his father.

"Harry?" Hagrid questioned after a moment, reminding him that he had not yet said anything. Hermione and Ron were staring nervously from him to Hagrid, as though unsure whether to intervene.

"Well... I'm alright, Hagrid," said Harry. Hermione, who seemed to be questioning whether Harry would stop there, glanced at him reproachfully. Harry sighed and continued. "I've just had a very odd few weeks." Next to him, Ron snorted loudly.

"It's a lot to explain, but... erm, well, Snape, you see-"

"Oh, blimey, Harry, not this again-"

"No!" Harry said at once, for he could see where Hagrid's mind was running. "I'll just get to it, then. It turns out that Snape is my Father, and Dumbledore has been hiding it for all this time because of a promise he made to my Mum."

Hagrid looked dumbstruck. "But, Harry- how can that be?"

One very lengthy explanation later, Hagrid's cabin was silent. Ron, who had never heard the story in its entirety, shared the same shocked expression as Hagrid. Hermione, for her part, had been adding details throughout the story, prompting Harry along, and looked just as worn out as Harry felt.

"So, Snape then- he's been, er, decent to yeh?" Hagrid asked carefully after a moment had gone by.

"Actually, yes," said Harry, and he couldn't help but to sound as surprised as Hagrid looked. "It hasn't been easy, but we've certainly both been trying... it's just, even with our history... really, we're both each other's last shot at family."

"Well, I've always said it," said Hagrid. "Severus Snape is a good man. Can' say I ever though' I'd see the day yeh saw eye to eye with 'im, though, Harry. An' for what 's worth, I think yer Mum'd be be right proud o' yeh. It takes a true man to set aside a grudge like that."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, looking away as a warm feeling spread through his chest and his throat tightened. "Listen, I know you probably can't say- but do you know anything about this mission he's just left on? I'm just- I'm worried..."

"Sorry, Harry, can' say I do. Professor Snape an' Dumbledore are pretty secretive abou' his doings for the Order. He's always returned in one piece before, though, Harry. I don' doubt he'll do the same this time."

"Yeah... I hope so," said Harry, looking out the window at the Hogwarts grounds, which had become blanketed in darkness since their arrival.

"Well, a' least yeh can take all this worry yer feeling as a good sign."

"A good sign?" Harry repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, a good sign. Even if yeh don't understand it, it means that yer starting to care about him."

"Well," said Harry feeling embarrassed, "I just don't want anything to happen to him... especially when we're just starting to, you know, get along..."

"You don't have to explain it to us, Harry," said Hermione understandingly, and then looked at Ron pointedly and asked, "Right, Ron?"

"Er, yeah..." said Ron, though Harry thought he looked rather skeptical. "It's just weird, is all, hearing you talk about Snape that way. But I'll get used to it," he added hastily, and Harry suspected Hermione was stepping on his foot under the table.

"Well," Hagrid said at length, following Harry's gaze to the dark sky outside, "Come on, you three, I'll walk yeh back up ter the castle. Don't reckon Dumbledore'd appreciate yeh bein' out o' bed after hours, and it's gettin ter be abou' that time."

And though Harry felt quite weary from reliving the events of the summer, he felt glad at least that with his last close friend checked off his list, he would not have to retell the story for quite a long time.

xxx

"Harry, you have to get up, or you're going to miss breakfast," Ron said, shaking Harry awake for the third time. "It's already ten o' clock, and they stop serving at half past."

"Ron, missing a meal isn't the worst thing in the world!" Harry shouted, the sound coming muffled from underneath his pillows.

"It will be when Hermione's badgering you about eating again," Ron retorted, yanking the pillow off of Harry's head. "How late did you stay up, anyways?"

"I got to bed at about two," Harry said, attempting to grab his pillow back from Ron.

"In the morning?" Ron questioned dubiously, keeping the pillow out of Harry's reach.

"No, Ron, in the afternoon," Harry retorted sarcastically.

"Doing what?" said Ron.

"Homework," Harry lied. He didn't want to tell Ron that he'd been tossing and turning all night, imagining what Severus was up to and wondering if he was okay."Now will you give me back my pillow? It's Saturday and I feel like having a lie in."

"You have got to take a break, mate. You'll run yourself into the ground, doing homework on a Friday night. Now enough about this lie in- our Quidditch practice was a nightmare last night and I need you fed up to help me practice."

"Fine," Harry grumbled at last, for he could see that Ron was not going to give back his pillow or leave him alone. He climbed out of bed and pulled on the clothes nearest to his bed. "Let's just get down there."

"That's the spirit," said Ron heartily as he followed a very bedraggled Harry out of the room.

Harry didn't speak again until they were about to seat themselves at the table for breakfast. He was, once again, lost in his own thoughts, which kept inevitably drifting back to Severus. It had been two days now since he'd left- surely one more day wouldn't be so bad. And if anything had happened, he would have heard something by now, wouldn't he?

"Your post's there," Hermione said, taking a sip of tea and continuing her reading out of the Herbology book she had perched in front of her food.

"Thanks," Harry said, pushing it aside. He was hungry, and wanted to eat before the House Elves cleared the food away.

"You didn't get back to the common room until awfully late last night," Neville remarked from beside Hermione. She looked up in interest and nodded, marking her page and setting the book aside. "I wanted to tell you to watch out for Filch," Neville continued, "because he was looking for both of you."

"So you were going to warn us once we got back to the common room?"

"No, I was waiting out by the main entrance," Neville said defensively. "But once it was past curfew, I decided it would be best if I just went back. You know, in case he caught me and then… I don't know, blamed you for keeping me out or something."

"Yeah, he'd do that," Harry said, laughing a bit. He was somewhat glad the conversation was about Filch, and not Snape… because he knew that Neville would have worse things to say about him.

"Katie made us stay out until we could perfect the play she'd designed," Ron said, helping himself to a piece of toast. "I don't see why she couldn't have let Harry go, though," he continued grudgingly. "After all, all you do is hover around, waiting for the snitch, while the rest of us work." He threw Harry a half grin, elbowing him lightly in the side.

Harry laughed. "I like my position, thanks. Better than having my sister throwing Quaffles at me full force, and actually getting knocked of my broom by them."

"Ginny knocked you off your broom?" Hermione exclaimed, choking a bit on her breakfast as she tried to hold in a laugh.

"Thanks, Harry," Ron said, lowering his head to hide the fact that his ears were turning red.

"Oh, it's not so bad," Ginny said as she walked by, pausing to playfully taunt her brother. "It only happened twice. And, they were very heavy Quaffles," she said, nodding her head in mock reassurance.

"Shut up, you," Ron said, flinging a forkful of eggs her way. She gave a little squeal and darted out of the way, then headed down to her other friends, laughing.

Hermione shook her head amusedly and picked up her book once again. "You know, I think you might be on to something, Neville, about the use of the Pharmus plant to enhance the effects of a detoxification draught. All the properties match up perfectly with the-"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, couldn't you talk about this during class? Or at least when we're all doing homework? On Monday?" Hermione glared at him, but he tried one last time. "At least not while we're eating?"

"Ron-"

"Okay, okay! Blimey…" Ron looked at Harry, who held up his hands and shook his head, remaining neutral. Instead of adding to the argument, he turned aside to his mail.

The Daily Prophet had arrived, as usual. Harry had subscribed earlier that year, so that he would be up to date on what was going on without having to hear about it from Hermione. Under that was the Quibbler, which he'd been receiving once a month ever since the end of the previous year. Harry picked up the magazine and rifled through it, but apparently, this was not the end of his mail. Out of the magazine fell a letter- a very peculiar looking one. It was in a black envelope and written in white ink, in a tight, unrecognizable scrawl. It said only, "To Harry Potter." Harry looked around. Nobody had seen it fall into his lap, and so he tucked it back into the magazine and excused himself from the table.

Harry had intended to read it in the common room, but he realized, as he stepped out of the hall and looked around at the mostly empty tables, that Gryffindor Tower would be far from empty.

Harry turned around and headed for the dungeons. No one loitered down there- well, perhaps a roaming Slytherin here and there, but no one he couldn't handle, or at least hide from. He walked speedily, clutching the envelope tight in his hand. He didn't know what the letter contained, but he had a dark feeling about it.

After rounding the first corner he came to, Harry stopped and leaned up against the wall, looking around to make sure no one was coming. He was alone.

Harry slid a finger into the gap of the envelope and ripped it open, revealing a normal sheet of parchment inside. He pulled it open, and peered closely at the writing. It was in the same fashion as the writing on the envelope, but it was written in a deep red color; it almost looked like blood.

Harry started at the top line, hands shaking a bit now.

Potter,

At one time, this would have been of little concern to you. Such little concern, in fact, I found it astonishing to learn that you are now very much involved in the fate of one Severus Snape.

We have found our spy. It wasn't incredibly difficult, especially when we threatened to hurt you, to make him confess his crimes against the Dark Lord. This has been a regrettable discovery, of course. I've always regarded him as one of the best.

Because killing him will be of little benefit to me, I am offering an alternative plan. I am proposing a trade; you may have him in exchange for your memory of the prophecy. I ask for nothing else, only that one bit of information.

This may seem a grand price, after all Dumbledore has done to protect it, but I ask you this: is the death of your father really worth it?

Come alone. If you show up with help, I will be forced to slaughter the traitor, and I know you would rather receive him in one piece than the alternative.

You will find us in the cellar at this address:

1514 Maldrice

Duftown

AB55 4AL

The letter was unsigned.

Harry's heart was beating hard against his chest as he folded the letter and slid it inside his pocket. He leaned back against the wall. How could he possibly do what the letter asked? He was almost positive that Snape would rather he stay at Hogwarts and seek the attention of an adult… but perhaps this was a risk he had to take. He couldn't just sit back and let the man be killed, especially when he knew how to save him.

"Potter!" shouted a familiar voice. Harry turned. "What are you doing down here?" Malfoy asked suspiciously, strolling towards him.

Harry considered the boy before him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find some help from the Slytherin. He wasn't willing to put his friends at risk and force them to come along, but he certainly wasn't about to go completely alone to find his father.

"How far are you willing to go to help my father?" Harry asked him quietly, handing him the letter.

Malfoy skimmed over the message, shaking his head all the while. "Not this far," Malfoy muttered, reading the address and handing the letter back to Harry. "I gave you a warning because I wanted to prevent this, notbecause I felt like charging into battle. Did you even tell him about what I said?"

"Yes," Harry responded. "And he refused to take it into account."

"And I always thought he was intelligent," Malfoy said quietly, leaning against the wall.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "He didn't believe it because it was coming from you, which I think is pretty intelligent, actually."

Malfoy appeared taken aback by this; traces of hurt flickered briefly over his fine features, but he said nothing to contradict Harry.

"Listen, you want to prove to me that you're on my side? Come with me. I need someone to back me up, and I'm not putting my friends' necks on the line."

Malfoy shook his head, looking remotely frightened now. "You don't understand, Potter!" He said in a harsh whisper, looking around. "If they catch me- catch us- they'll be harder on me than they'd be on you. My father is a loyal death eater; do you understand what that means? I outwardly go against the Dark Lord, and it will literally be the end of me. I will be disowned- no money, no name, no home, and probably no life, because chances are, they'll murder me. They don't respond well to traitors. In fact, there's probably little use in going. If, and I mean if Snape is still alive, they don't intend to keep him that way. They are not going to give him up for anything, trust me. He will be tortured and killed, and they won't pass on the opportunity to do the same to you."

"They need me alive," Harry said in a quiet growl, not liking at all what Malfoy was telling him.

"They don't need you sane," Malfoy responded. "You've heard what happened to the Longbottoms? They weren't killed because the Death Eaters weren't sure how they came into the prophecy; the only reason they're still alive is that they might do more damage dead. But they didn't just let them go, did they? They made sure that the Longbottoms would be incapable of doing them any harm."

Harry took a moment to sort out his thoughts; he was getting frantic now. "Listen, Malfoy, I need you to come with me. You're the only person who knows how they work. If I get into a spot of trouble, I need someone like you at my side."

"If you get into a spot of trouble, I'll be away from your side as quickly as I can!" Malfoy said, then lowered his voice again. "I'm not the one you want-"

"Fine, you don't have to stick with me. But at least come so that you can get help for me if I need it! Don't forget, you need me. Otherwise you will spend your life serving Voldemort. Remember that?"

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah," he said resentfully, "I remember that."

"So will you come with me?" Harry asked, more instantly this time.

There was a moment's silence, and then, slowly, Malfoy nodded. "Fine…" he took a deep breath. "I'll come with you."

"Good," Harry said, immediately grabbing the other boy's wrist and pulling him down the hallway. "The letter says to go to the cellar of the address at Duftown. Do you know how to get there?"

"Well, of course," Malfoy said disdainfully. "We use the floo."

"Can we do that from here?" Harry asked doubtfully, and Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"Of course not, they watch the floo at Hogwarts. We'll have to go to Hogsmeade first. Merlin, you really do need me."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry muttered. They'd reached the top of the stairs now, and were standing right at the entrance hall. Harry looked around; no one was in sight. "Come on, coast is clear," he said quietly, waving to Malfoy.

"There's no need to be all dramatic about it," Malfoy sneered. "We are allowed in the entrance hall. And we're allowed to go outside. We'll have to work a bit to get into Hogsmeade, but-"

"My cloak," Harry suddenly groaned.

"What?"

"My cloak. I'm going to need my cloak."

"The one you use to sneak around the school all the time?"

Harry glared at him. "Yeah, that one."

"Well, where is it?" Malfoy said impatiently, tapping his foot.

"It's in Gryffindor Tower. But you're not coming into our Common Room."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and made a sound of disgust. "Fine by me."

"How do I know you won't leave the moment I turn my back?" Harry questioned charily.

"Potter, I haven't got to come with you, you know. I am doing this by choice. I'm not going to try to escape."

"Right," Harry said. "Well then, you wait here, and I'll run and fetch my cloak."

"You do that," Malfoy said mockingly, leaning up against the wall.

Harry turned and headed for his common room. He wanted to run, but he suspected that if he did, and someone saw him, he'd be much more likely to be questioned.

Even without running, Harry reached his common room quickly and luckily with no interruptions. He hurriedly said the password and darted up to his dormitory, grabbing his cloak and heading back out the door quickly. However, when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he was faced with his first obstacle; there stood Ginny Weasley, holding an open letter in her hand and staring at him accusatorily. Harry felt his pocket- empty. The letter in her hands was certainly the one he had been dreading. She folded her arms and planted her feet seemingly determined not to let him past her. "What is this?" she demanded at once, waving the letter at him.

"It's-" Harry couldn't quite finish his sentence. What was she going to do? Was she going to get one of the Professors? Was she going to refuse to let him go?

"Harry," she said quietly, stepping forward. "Are you going to go?"

"Are you going to stop me?"

"I don't think I could," she admitted, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes, I'm going," Harry said after a moment of hesitation. Ginny lowered her head for a moment, and then looked back up.

"Well, not by yourself," she said.

"I'm not bringing you, or Ron or Hermione or Neville or anybody else, along with me. I won't put you all in danger again."

"It's my choice," Ginny said, voice stronger and more adamant now. "I'm not letting you go alone, and if you try and argue, it'll only hold you up longer."

"No, Ginny-" but she was already heading towards the door. "Ginny!" Harry called, catching up to her. "Listen, I'm not going alone."

"Who's coming with you?" Ginny asked, seeming surprised.

Harry hesitated, and then admitted, "Malfoy."

"That little ferret?" Ginny exclaimed. "Harry, I wouldn't be surprised if he wrote the letter!"

"He didn't," Harry said. "I'm sure of it- you- listen, it's complicated."

"Only because you're complicating it," Ginny said. She waited a moment, and then gave him an ultimatum. "Either you let me come with you, or I'm going to go get McGonagall."

"Ginny, don't," Harry sighed.

"Then bring me with you!" she demanded. Harry's shoulders dropped, and he gave in.

"Fine- but only if you promise you'll follow my instructions."

Ginny gave him a doubtful look, but said nothing to the contrary. Not wanting to waste any more time, Harry took this as compliance and led her out the Portrait hole.

"Listen, Harry," Ginny started as they headed down the hall. "Don't you think this is a little foolish? We don't know what we're getting ourselves into! We could disappear, and no one would ever know where we went."

"If we go to Dumbledore, he'll keep us up in his office and he won't act. You know that," Harry said. "He'd let Severus die rather than risk giving him away by investigating matters."

"Well, I know, it's just that-"

"Are you going to stay behind and be our safety net?" Harry asked, rounding on her. "Because to be honest, I don't really trust anyone else to keep their mouths shut."

"I- maybe," Ginny said, looking flustered. "Perhaps we could- I know this spell. We write notes and charm them to respond to a wand command. We leave them here, in Hogwarts, and if we get into trouble, then we give the command and they will find their way to Dumbledore. I'd at least feel better if I knew help was coming if we needed it."

"Fine. Where would we hide them?" Harry asked.

"We'll slide them behind the portraits in the entry hall."

"I don't want Malfoy to know," Harry said. "I don't trust him completely, and I-"

"Harry, I agree," Ginny said hurriedly, cutting Harry off. He was telling her what she already knew. "We'll write them now and I'll slide them under the portraits."

"Fine," Harry said, pulling out a piece of parchment and ripping it in half. They both scribbled their messages to Dumbledore, and Ginny charmed hers. Harry watched, and then repeated the charm over his.

"Good," Ginny said, taking both notes and running a short way down the corridor. She lifted one of the portraits, ignoring its protests, and slid the note behind it. "Should work," she said quietly as Harry reached her.

"I hope so. Now, don't upset Malfoy," Harry said as they came to the Entrance Hall. "It took a lot just to convince him to come, and I need him there."

"I won't," Ginny said resentfully, shooting Harry a dark look. "Though I don't know that anyone needs Draco Malfoy..."

They reached the entrance hall in no time, and as promised, Malfoy was waiting there for them. When he saw Ginny, however, his eyes lit up.

"Oh, good!" Malfoy exclaimed as they approached. "You've found another backup. I'll just go, then-"

"No, Malfoy," Harry said, and the other boy halted, rolling his eyes. "She's making me bring her. But I still need you."

"She's making you bring her?" Malfoy repeated, looking as though he was about to laugh, but Ginny shot him a challenging glare. He shrugged. "Well… alright."

"We'd better move," Harry said.

"Listen to him- so serious," Malfoy remarked laughingly to Ginny; she just glared.

Getting out of the grounds wasn't as difficult as Harry had anticipated. Malfoy got them past the gates unnoticed; Harry had the sudden impression that he'd done this multiple times.

"Come on, under here," Harry told Malfoy and Ginny as they approached Hogsmeade; he lifted the invisibility cloak and motioned them underneath. Ginny moved next to him at once, but Malfoy stared at him dubiously. "Are you mad? I'm not cuddling with the two of you under that bloody cloak. I'll be fine out here."

Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Truth be told, he didn't much like the idea of being that close to Malfoy either.

It was a chilly day and the streets of Hogsmeade were mostly deserted. Several of the shops on the main street had closed down, likely from diminished business since Voldemort's return to power; people were not lingering in town, any more. Before long, they'd found a deserted shop with a fireplace inside and broken in. One by one, they left for Duftown. Malfoy was the first through the grate. Harry came second, and Ginny followed third.

"Are we close, then?" Ginny asked quietly after dusting herself off a bit.

Harry nodded, moving towards a window. "We're on the right street- we'll just need to find the right place. Are you ready?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, wait," he said, and he continued to dust himself off.

"Are you serious?" Ginny asked, giving him a deadpan look. "This isn't a beauty contest, it's a mission to save Harry's father. Could you please get over yourself?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," came the dripping sarcastic reply. Despite that, he finished dusting himself off and then followed Harry and Ginny, who were walking out the door without him.

Not unlike Hogsmeade, Duftown looked to be nearly deserted, and an eerie grey sky had settled over the town. Ginny and Malfoy looked around nervously, and Harry began seeking out the addresses on the buildings.

"This way," he said quietly, motioning for them to follow. They followed the numbers until they reached Number 1514.

"This is it," Ginny said in a small voice, and Harry nodded. Malfoy had lost his smug expression; his face was pale and stoic, and he didn't look at all happy about the situation.

"I want to go back," the pale boy replied, and Harry turned around and firmly gripped him by the arm.

"Not a chance. You're going in first," he said, giving the other boy a shove. Malfoy's expression gave the impression that he was whimpering inwardly, but he made no noise.

"You owe me, after this, Potter," he said quietly, reaching for the door.

"Yeah, that was the point, remember?" Harry replied irritably. "Now open the door."

Malfoy did; he slowly pushed the door open, and the three stepped cautiously inside. The floor they were standing on was all one room; the floors, walls, and pillars holding up the roof were all made of the same dull oak color. Small rays of light came in through the cracks in the walls and the holes in the drapes, illuminating the heavy cloak of dust that hung over the air.

"The letter said to go down to the cellar," Harry said, and Ginny looked over at him.

"This doesn't feel right," she said quietly, and Malfoy nodded in agreement.

"I don't care," Harry responded. "It's not supposed to feel right, walking into a group of Death Eaters." He paused. "Ginny, maybe you should stay behind-"

"Or maybe you should stop treating me like some delicate flower," she retorted. "I'm just as capable of handling this as either of you two. Possibly more. Now quit ordering me around or I'll head straight back to Hogwarts, and McGonagall will be my first stop."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and looked to Harry. Harry stood for a moment, taking this in, and then nodded. "Fine," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"That's right you're sorry," Ginny muttered, though she looked pleased. "Now, what's our plan?"

"Well," Harry started apprehensively, looking around. "I want to see what kind of state Severus is in, first. Get under the cloak."

"And I want to keep from being seen," Malfoy added in.

"Yes, we all want that, Malfoy," Ginny replied.

"Yes, yes," Malfoy said flippantly. "But it's most important for me."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Harry placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. The two exchanged a glance before looking back at Malfoy.

"Alright, is everyone ready?"

"Define ready," Malfoy said darkly.

Harry took his cloak and draped it over the three of them. They were a bit big for all three of them to fit underneath it, but with Malfoy and Harry stooping down to Ginny's height, it was manageable. They located the door down to the cellar and lifted it open. There was a long case of stairs leading down to the dark cellar, and from where they sat, it was quite crowded at the bottom; there seemed to be piles of crates everywhere.

It seemed an extremely foolish mission, now that they were actually here. What would they do if they were discovered? There were so many things that could go wrong- so many things Harry hadn't thought of before this moment. But now, his heart was working overtime, beating hard against his chest, and his mind seemed clearer than ever before. What he was doing was foolish; anyone could be waiting for them at the bottom of those steps.

Not wanting to waste unnecessary time loitering with the door open, the three climbed onto the steps and shut the door above. Making it down the stairs without losing the invisibility cloak was a difficult task. Slowly, they descended the stairs one by one, as quietly as possible. Malfoy looked scared now; he kept checking Harry's expression. Harry kept looking at Ginny, worried about what he might be leading her into. This was his best friend's younger sister, and as of late, his friend. She was talented, yes- but Harry could only hope that would prevent harm from coming to her.

They reached the floor, and they'd not yet been seen. Harry looked to Malfoy and Ginny, and jerked his head in two different directions. Taking the hint, they pulled out from underneath the invisibility cloak. Malfoy looked sick now; his face was a delicate shade of grey and his eyes were wide and glossy. Harry gazed at him in deliberation for a moment, and handed him the invisibility cloak. He looked to Ginny and gave her an apologetic look, but she just shrugged and hid herself being a pile of crates in the direction Harry had indicated. Harry could only hope Malfoy had done the same.

Harry watched Ginny from where he stood for a moment. She seemed fine there, so he finally turned and began to inspect the opposite end of the cellar. He traveled through the shadows, keeping almost completely concealed behind the tall pillars of storage. It had been a few minutes since he'd separated from Ginny when she showed up at his side again.

"What are you doing?" He mouthed to her.

"I ran into a dead end," she said in a voice just below a whisper. "There's nothing over there; they have to be this way."

"Should we wait here for Mal-" at that, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around and raised his wand; Malfoy tugged the cloak off his head and held up two hands to stop him.

"Don't do that!" Harry whispered angrily.

"We're making a lot of noise," Ginny said nervously, peering around the crates. Malfoy nodded in agreement with her. "I think I hear voices," Ginny said after another moment. Harry moved to her side, straining to hear.

"I think you're right," he said shakily. "This way." He waved for them to follow and began snaking his way through the cellar, getting closer and closer to the voices. Finally, they were coming into view.

Standing in a small clearing, with five candles lit in the center, was a ring of four Death Eaters, holding hands and chanting with their eyes closed. Severus was one of them.

"Harry, Snape doesn't look like he's in any danger…" Ginny said uneasily.

Harry nodded, swallowing hard. One of his worst fears had been confirmed; they had walked into a trap. Severus had said Lucius would be there… and he was nowhere in sight. Harry had a sickened feeling that he was hiding somewhere nearby, waiting to strike.

"I have to go," Malfoy whispered frantically, backing up. "I have to-"

"Stop!" Harry mouthed to him. He grabbed at his cloak and then waved him the other way. "Just go- go!" He mouthed more insistently now, motioning with more fervor.

Harry waited until Malfoy was out of sight, and then turned back towards the circle. Severus eyes were open now, and from the look on his face, there could be no doubt that he saw Harry there. He looked furious… and worried. Harry backed up slowly, and Severus shut his eyes before anyone could notice he'd allowed his attention to stray.

"We'll head towards the exit," Harry said into Ginny's ear. "Just-"

"No," said a voice from behind. "I don't think you will."

Harry and Ginny turned, and found themselves staring up into the cruel, delighted grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

xxx End Chapter 29 xxx

Chapter 30

What's in a Name?

xxx

"You thought you could hide from me," Lucius chuckled softly. "How very amusing. I must say, Potter, I was doubtful whether or not you would show up. You have been exercising great control over that handy impulsiveness this year. Not that this stopped my capturing you earlier this year, but it certainly has made it very difficult to strike."

"I suppose you think you're clever, do you?" Ginny asked, and Harry had a feeling that she was biding for time.

Lucius spared the girl a glance, and then turned back to Harry. "You've even brought a little friend along, how sweet. Are you his guard?" he questioned, his voice soft and mocking.

"I'm his friend," Ginny replied. "Not that you've ever had any, but friends stick with one another."

Lucius' lip curled derisively, so quickly it was almost like a twitch. "You two really are just precious," he sneered, looking back and forth between the two of them. "You maintain this loyalty to one another, even though you're about to die."

"You said you would give me Severus if I gave you the prophecy," Harry said resolutely, crossing his arms. He knew he was in no position to demand anything of Lucius Malfoy, but he had to bide his time. He could feel Ginny next to him, attempting to activate the charmed notes they'd left. If he could just keep Lucius talking until she'd done that, and then stay alive long enough for either Snape to rescue them, or for Dumbledore to show up, then they'd be fine.

"Dear boy, I never had any such intention," Lucius said softly, making a show of delicately stroking his wand. Harry felt Ginny stiffen next to him, and new that she'd done the spell… now if only she could keep her nerve. "I'm going to kill your father, and then present you to the Dark Lord… after the boys and I have had some fun, of course."

"You're sick," Ginny muttered from Harry's side. He glanced at her; her eyes were narrowed into the most repulsed kind of glare, and her fists were balled at her side. She looked absolutely infuriated, but not one bit scared.

Lucius let out a soft laugh. "And you're deluded."

"Deluded? How?" Harry demanded irritably. How could this man, who was delighted with the idea of torturing two children, possibly stand there and call them deluded?

"You, Harry Potter, have been molded to fit the shape of a hero in every aspect. And your whole pack of ah, friends, as you call them, have been raised and trained to believe in this whole theory of right and wrong. Good and evil. Light and dark… you see. Would you dare to think outside the box? Of course not; to you, the world is black and white. You don't see the shades of grey."

"And the Dark Lord does?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow and stepping forward.

"Potter, don't try to debate with me on things you know nothing about," Lucius said irritably, looking him over with obvious contempt. "You're far too simple minded to understand the complexities of what the Dark Lord is trying to accomplish."

"He's not simple minded!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Oh really?" Lucius scoffed, his irritation mounting. "That explains why he came here with no backup aside from a Weasley- and a girl at that!"

Harry only glared; how very wrong Lucius was. He'd had a backup plan… and Ginny wasn't the only person he'd brought along.

"I'm better at fighting than my brother is, I can assure you that," Ginny replied heatedly, reaching for her wand. Harry grabbed her arm and held it at her side; the last thing she needed to do was start a duel with Malfoy.

"Is that why Potter's holding you back? Because he knows you can best me, and would rather avoid the violence? Is that it, Weasley?"

Ginny's cheeks flushed and she angrily jerked her arm from Harry's grasp. "Just because he thinks I can't do anything doesn't mean I can't!" she shouted, raising her wand and aiming it directly at him. Harry watched the scene in horror, and raised his wand to defend her… but stopped at one thing. Severus had approached from behind, and was shaking his head warningly.

Lucius beamed a triumphant smile as he deflected her succeeding curse and sent her wand flying. "Pathetic- not one ounce of self control, whatsoever!" he reached forward and grabbed Ginny by the neck, pulling her towards him. Harry winced, but Severus shook his head even more instantly than before, and Harry restrained himself from moving. Ginny gasped Harry's name, and he looked frantically to Severus, who shook his head again- but finally, Lucius had caught on. His eyes widened and he dropped Ginny, spinning around with his wand in hand.

Severus was too quick for him. The moment Lucius turned to face him, there was a great CRACK, and the same vines that Harry had seen bind Lupin in third year were wound about Lucius.

"You want to talk about pathetic?" Severus sneered coolly as he stepped towards Lucius.

"Yes, I do," Lucius struggled to say through the tight grip of Severus' spell. "Tell me how one of the most respected men in the Dark Lord's inner circle became like this- playing Daddy to the Boy-Who-Lived?

Severus chose not to respond to this. He wouldn't be baited; he knew exactly what Lucius was trying to do. He was trying to coerce him into admitting that he'd been working for Dumbledore since long before- but he was much smarter than that. Severus had been traveling in this circle of men for years; he knew how they worked. And if that wasn't Lucius' goal, then he certainly wasn't going to risk saying something that would hurt Harry- that would only come back to bite him in the end.

"How long, Severus," Lucius rasped, for Snape was tightening the vines' grip around his neck. "How long since you've betrayed us?"

"Betrayed you?" Severus repeated, almost in a bitter, laughing way. "Lucius, you betrayed me! I thought we were something of friends, until you tore me away from my wife and potential family with your lies. I could have been happy- for the first time in my life, I had a chance at something good, and you robbed me of it. And now you're trying to rob me of my son? And I'm the traitor? I went against your beliefs- but you? You went againstme."

Lucius face was turning purple now, and Severus finally released the tension a bit. "Be thankful, old friend, that my son is here today. I saw that letter this morning, when we were beginning the spell. If he hadn't come, it would have been I who would be killing you." He paused, and then looked to Harry. "But that's not what you'd want me to do, is it?" It was phrased more as a statement than as a question, and there was a certain gleam of understanding behind his dark eyes.

Harry almost told him to go ahead and do it, vaguely aware of the fact that the old Snape would have called him spineless and weak for making the alternative decision. And hadn't this man planned on killing Severus and him? And hadn't he done enough dark deeds in his lifetime to deserve death? But in the end, Harry couldn't do it. He couldn't sentence this man to his death; he didn't feel he had the right to. "No, Dad, it's not." Harry said, feeling a sudden rush of goodwill towards his father. It felt nice, to have his opinion valued like that… to have someone ask him what he wanted done, rather than act despite him. He watched Severus' reaction to the title… he looked, shocked. Harry worried for a moment he'd gone too far… but he hadn't really meant to say it, exactly. He hadn't… he hadn't planned to say it.

Severus gazed at Harry for a moment. Dad? Had the boy really just called him… Dad? Severus almost lost track of the moment… when had he done anything to earn such a personal title? Something so… official. Had he taken the role of father without consciously realizing it?

Severus didn't remind Harry of all Lucius had done, or what could result from allowing him to live. He was letting his son make his own decision, based on what he felt rather than pure logic. He was beginning to understand that Harry didn't work that way, and he wasn't going to force him to endure a decision that would leave him guilt ridden and apprehensive to fight for years to come. Perhaps this was what Harry was appreciation… perhaps this was what made Severus seem so much like a father. The fact that he was accepting his son the way he was, and allowing him to make his own decisions. Strange, how different this was from what he'd always viewed as a father…

"Professor! Harry!" Ginny suddenly cried from the ground, but it was too late. In a quick flash, two of the Death Eaters that had been in the circle with Severus appeared out of nowhere, striking him from behind. He let out a yell and fell to the ground; Harry immediately started towards him. Ginny, however, grabbed his ankle. "Dumbledore will be here any moment, Harry, don't get us killed now!"

He hesitated for a moment. Then, Ginny's eyes widened, and her mouth opened, and Harry knew what was happening. He grabbed her and dove behind the nearest pile of crates, and watched a flash of green light explode against the wall that had been behind them. Both sat shocked for a second, and then, coming to their senses, quickly picked themselves up off the ground. Harry looked for his wand, realizing to his dismay that he'd dropped it when he'd grabbed Ginny.

Without warning, Severus' tortured yells filled the cellar, and Harry cringed. "We have to help him!" he yelled to Ginny, and she nodded.

"Accio Harry's wand!" she called. She handed it to him quickly, and they emerged from their hiding place, ready to send the hexes flying.

"Stupify!" Ginny cried, hitting Lucius from behind.

"Ennervate!" Another of the Death Eaters cancelled her hex, and she soon found herself facing the tall blond man once again.

"Expelliarmus!" she yelled frantically, looking to Harry for reassurance.

"Get him while he's getting his wand!" Harry shouted to her, heading towards his father.

"Diffindo!"

His curse was easily deflected, and he dodged another. His father was no longer being tortured, but as his wand was several feet away, he could do nothing but shout directions at each child. He hoped that this would get them out alive, if they took his instructions… He hoped that help would arrive

xxx

Malfoy had run, all the way from the cellar to the fireplace, and then all the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. He stopped at the doors to the entrance hall, panting for breath, and spelled the doors open; he didn't think he had the strength to pull them.

Malfoy didn't know the password to Dumbledore's office, so it would do no good to go there. But he did know that Madame Pomfrey stood by in the hospital wing at all times, and she would be able to fetch the Headmaster immediately.

Malfoy sped up to the infirmary, taking the steps two at a time. He stumbled several steps to the top, grabbing the railing to keep himself from falling, and stumbled onto the second level.

The corridors had never seemed so long as now, when Malfoy was trying desperately to reach the door at the end of the hall. He flew to the door and pushed it open. Unluckily the floors had just been washed, and he went straight through the doors and sliding across the floor, to be stopped finally by a hospital bed. "Madame… Pomfrey!" Malfoy yelled in a half gasp, bracing himself against the bed that had brought him to a full halt. "Madame… Pomfrey!" he called a bit louder now.

Madame Pomfrey came hurrying out of her office, took one look at the panting, red-faced boy, and said, "Whatever is the matter, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I need to speak with Dumbledore. Now," he added imperatively.

"Alright, alright!" Pomfrey exclaimed in disapproving tones. "I'll fetch him for you. One moment."

"Wait!" Malfoy called. "Could you, ah, fetch me to him?"

"You mean you'd like to go see him in his office?"

"Yes, that's what I mean," said Malfoy, rolling his eyes.

Pomfrey considered for a moment, and he gave her a pleading look. "Fine," she said, her tone less snappish than usual. "Follow me."

"Headmaster Dumbledore!" Madame Pomfrey called, throwing a fistful of floo power into the fireplace and sticking her head through. "Draco Malfoy would like to see you, sir."

Malfoy waited with his breath held, until he saw her nod. "Yes, I'll send him right up," she declared, pulling her head out of the fireplace. She turned to Malfoy. "He says he'll see you right away. Just step through this grate."

Malfoy did as he was asked, and was sent spinning up to the office. It was a short ride; when he reached the office, he stepped out quickly, taking only a moment to gather himself and take note of his surroundings. The office was much different than he'd ever imagined it to be, with all sorts of silver instruments and gadgets lying about. He'd always pictured a stuffy little room, with plenty of oak furniture and paperwork- somewhat like his father's at home, only with porcelain pictures of muggles running through fields together and wizards dedicating their lives to non-magical folk. He supposed now that this had been a rather exaggerated assumption about Dumbledore, even if he was as pro-muggle as his father always said.

"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked immediately, stepping forward. He looked concerned; startled, Malfoy took a step back. He didn't like this man, no matter how much he needed his help at the moment, and who was he to lurk silently across the room, watching him?

Malfoy rummaged around in his robe pockets and pulled out a scrap of parchment, handing it to Dumbledore hastily. "Potter, the Weasley girl, and Professor Snape are in the cellar of this place," Malfoy hurried to say. "You have to go and get them, now."

Dumbledore's face had gone a shade paler, but other than that, his expression remained unchanged. "Of course- but Mr. Malfoy, I must know how you have obtained this information."

Malfoy's jaw dropped. "You're going to sit here," he queried challengingly, "and interrogate me while they're in trouble?"

"I can't act without sound reason, you realize," Dumbledore said calmly, leaning against his desk. "Please, just tell me how you know this so that I may leave. I wish to waste no time."

"Well, it certainly doesn't seem that way," Malfoy scoffed. There was a moment's silence, and then he relented as his hard grey eyes met Dumbledore's. "Potter received a letter from an unknown sender that said that they'd discovered the secret about his father, Severus, and that if he didn't show up alone, they would kill him. He was supposed to meet them in exchange for the prophecy. Apparently, he didn't feel confident enough to go alone, and yet he didn't want to risk having his friends killed," Malfoy stopped and gave a theatrical sigh, as if to point out how used he felt, "so, instead, he forced me to go with him- because, you know, he doesn't care if I die," he said, rolling his eyes. "He then ran to the Gryffindor common room to get his cloak, and ran into Weasley there. She demanded that he take her with him, I suppose, and she refused to leave his side. He couldn't shake her," he snorted, "So she ended up coming along. There, is that detailed enough for you?"

"There's no need to be rude, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, hurriedly grabbing his cloak and heading towards the door. "I'll need you to come with me to this place."

"Wait, what!" Malfoy asked in a panic, throwing up his hands in protest. "No, absolutely not. Do you understand what will happen to me if they find out I told you? If they see me there? I left for a reason!"

"I understand that, but you also came here for a reason, did you not?" Dumbledore probed insistently, opening the door now.

"So you could help them," Malfoy entreated, pathetically desperate, "because I can't do that." Dumbledore raised his white eyebrows, and Malfoy reiterated, "I can't. But really, I don't want to serve Voldemort my whole life, if it can be helped… I need Potter to live in order for that to happen, don't I?" Dumbledore didn't respond, so Malfoy continued. "And besides, there'll be no point coming here if you don't have at least one decent professor, and Severus is it."

"I might not get there in time if you don't come," Dumbledore said quietly.

Malfoy watched the old man for a moment, eyes growing wide, and then, as if realizing how much time he was wasting, he shook his head and changed his tone of voice from a whinging one to one of resent. "Fine, I'll come along… but I'm leaving once we get to Duftown. Is that alright? You are able to take care of yourself there, aren't you?"

"Quite," Dumbledore said stiffly, opening the door for Malfoy to step through. "Lead the way, and quickly. We've no time to waste."

"I-" Malfoy's response was cut short by the attack of two notes, folded in two and diving at his head, twittering like birds. "Arghh!" Malfoy yelled as one of the small strips of parchment began attacking his nose, cheeping angrily. Dumbledore quickly reached forward and snatched this one, and they instantly calmed as he read them both.

"Messages from Ms. Weasley and Harry," Dumbledore said after a moment. Malfoy stopped smoothing back his hair and frowned. Dumbledore was looking more anxious now, as he read the second note; Malfoy supposed that this was because the old man had now realized that Malfoy wasn't lying.

It took much less time to get to Duftown this time. Once they'd reached the outside of the Hogwarts gates, Dumbledore took Malfoy by the arm and used the boy's mind to guide them to the location nearest to their destination. They'd soon reached the street of Maldrice, and Malfoy brought him to the place where Harry and Ginny hopefully still were.

"This is it," Malfoy said quietly. He was half-afraid that now that they were here, Dumbledore would demand that Malfoy follow him in.

The headmaster did no such thing. He turned to Malfoy, and offered him a grateful nod. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. You may go back to Hogwarts now, if you wish- be careful, you don't know who you might meet on the way."

"I'll be alright," Malfoy said brusquely, squaring his shoulders, and turning and heading in the opposite direction. Once he'd looked back, the headmaster was gone.

xxx

"You may thank Miss Ginerva Weasley, Potter- or now, should it be Snape?" Lucius Malfoy pressed a finger to his chin as though in thought, and then shook his head. "Well, I suppose that's all very unimportant now. As I say, you may thank her for what is to come. You should have come alone as the letter requested, Potter."

"And why is that?" Harry growled through his teeth, looking up at Lucius through eyes narrowed in loathing. He and Ginny were bound together, sitting against the cellar wall; Severus was lying unconscious several feet away. He'd only been hit by a simple stunner, but Harry had been robbed of his wand before he could help him.

"Let me guess," Ginny spoke up. "Is it because I've got you even more livid than before? Save it. You were going to hurt Harry no matter what. I had to try." She said the last to Harry more than Lucius, and he understood.

"Avery, Phelps, wake dear Severus to join us," Lucius called, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he looked over the angry, anxious faces of the two teens before him. It was as though he viewed them as a sort of prize; something he'd conquered. He gazed at them for a few more moments, and then, realizing he hadn't been answered, he called again. "Avery! Phelps!"

"They won't come to you, Mr. Malfoy," came a deep, old voice that Harry instantly recognized. He straightened up, and Ginny's face brightened as she looked to Harry. It was Dumbledore. He stepped out into the clearing, and surveyed the scene. His wand was raised; he was ready to strike, but he did not look worried. He seemed confident in the fact that Lucius wouldn't dare to attempt to overtake him. "There are three ministry aurors standing outside right now, and apparition wards have been placed on the building. It is in your best interest to stay where you are, Mr. Malfoy." His voice was deep and threatening, and was strong enough to keep Lucius standing where he was.

"Dumbledore," he hissed, looking around, obviously for a way to escape. This was difficult; he had them enclosed into an area very difficult to flee from, in order to prevent the flight of his captives. Ironically, now he was trapped. "How very convenient. You always do manage to show up right on time."

"Well, right on time is precisely when I want to show up, so that suits me," Dumbledore said, but there was no hint of amusement or goodwill to his tone. He was glaring hard at Lucius, and Harry had an idea that he was only refraining from cursing the life out of Malfoy because he had no reason to… yet. "You will be charged this time, Malfoy. Make no mistake about that. I know from experience that you feel yourself above the law; realize now that we have learned your tricks, and you will be staying where you are placed."

"Oh yes, I'm sure justice will be served," Malfoy sneered, beginning to circle Dumbledore. The older wizard immediately became wary; his eyes narrowed, and he glanced at the exit behind him. There was very little subtlety in the way Malfoy was pursuing his goal of escape, and Dumbledore wasted no time in circling the other way, pushing Malfoy further from the entrance.

Malfoy continued smirking. "You think you have me all figured out, don't you old man? What would you say if I told you I was taking a leaf out of your book?"

Dumbledore didn't respond to this with words; he raised his wand and with a quick flourish, sent a bolt of yellow light towards Lucius. However, the other man dodged out of the way. He raised his wand and sent a hex hurling towards Ginny, who tried frantically to move out of the way. The force of the spell was immense; even Harry felt the pressure. She immediately began to convulse, and Dumbledore flicked his wand at Severus.

"Enervate!" said the Headmaster, rushing to Ginny's side and hurriedly incanting a long stream of Latin words and spells. Severus was beginning to realize what was going on, and began searching for his wand, eyes becoming wider and more desperate as he grew more lucid.

Lucius laughed; a deep, mechanical laugh born of ill intention. "How very predictable you are! The Dark Lord told of your dueling tactics- I must say, the unoriginality of your strategy is a bit pathetic." He quickly pulled a necklace out from beneath his cloak, and tapped it with his wand. It glowed for a moment, and then faded. He smiled at the crowd before him; Dumbledore, who couldn't stop the stream of spells coming from his mouth without risking the loss of Ginny's life. Severus, who had just come back from a stunned state, prior to which he'd endured rigorous battle and attempts at torture… and Harry, who was still bound to Ginny, and unable to be released by anyone around him. Lucius hadn't won… but he certainly hadn't lost. "This," he said, holding up the necklace, "is what I meant, Dumbledore, when I said I was taking a leaf out of your book." And then Harry remembered- they'd told Voldemort that Harry had had a portkey in the form of a necklace, and that had been how he'd escaped.

"Dumbledore!" Harry shouted, and the old man started, looking his way. "It's a portkey, you have to-!"

But it was too late. With a final smirk, Malfoy clutched the charm attached to the golden chain, and disappeared from their sight.

"No," Harry muttered quietly, inwardly cursing. Then, suddenly remembering, he craned his neck towards his father, who was still lying on the floor. "Severus," Harry called, too preoccupied by his father's well-being and Ginny's current state to worry about where Lucius had escaped to. He already had an idea, and he knew they needed to get out of there, quickly.

"Harry," Severus said hoarsely, pushing himself to his feet. "Hold still," he said, coming to Harry's side. He spared Dumbledore a glance, but the man was still incanting over the now shrieking Ginny, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "I'm going to get you out, Harry, but you need to make sure that you do not move, or I may affect Miss Weasley as well."

"Ok," Harry agreed, nodding.

Severus held his wand steady for a moment, and then with a quick, angular movement of his wand, he released Harry. "That was all?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Severus said distractedly, moving to Dumbledore's side.

"Is she going to be ok?" Harry had to raise his voice to be heard over her shrieks; panic was edging its way into his voice now.

Severus nodded solemnly, returning to Harry. "She'll spend a few weeks in the Hospital Wing after this one… but she'll be alive, at least."

Harry swallowed hard; Ginny's screaming had stopped now, and she seemed to be coming back to a sane state of mind, but pain was still etched into every line of her face. "What does it do?" Harry asked, trying dearly not to resemble a young, scared little boy too closely.

Severus shook his head. "Perhaps that's a detail best discussed later," he said, looking quite sickened at the thought of what was happening to her.

Dumbledore finished the incantation, and immediately lifted Ginny into his arms. "We have to leave," he said, carrying her towards the stairs. "Follow me."

Tears were still running down Ginny's face, Harry saw… but Severus was right. She was alive. And so was his father.

xxx

"She'll need intensive treatment for the next week," Madame Pomfrey was saying to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They were all seated in the hospital wing; Pomfrey had just finished her examinations. Ginny was the only person seriously injured… luckily, as Pomfrey put it. Harry saw it differently.

"St. Mungo's would be the best option until we can adequately provide for her needs. Many side effects can result from this sort of hex…"

Severus had been correct; Harry was glad not to have been told earlier what had been happening to Ginny. Apparently, the hex that Malfoy had sent at her had the effect of… well, essentially destroying and rotting her from the inside out. If Dumbledore hadn't been there to start the countercurse immediately, the results would have been disastrous.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said, holding his crying wife's hand. "I believe we'll take that option."

Harry wanted to stay and listen, but at this point, Severus stood up. Receiving a nod from the headmaster, he extended an index finger at Harry, and crooked it towards himself. They both stepped away from the circle, and Severus leaned down to speak quietly to Harry.

"You and I need to have a chat."

Uh oh. Harry knew that tone of voice, and it was certainly his least favorite of all. It indicated that Severus had something darker on his mind than what he was saying… or, at least it had in the past. Harry wasn't sure exactly what it meant now, but he was sure it was something to the same extent.

"My rooms will do, I think," Severus said as the two headed down the corridors together. Harry remained silent; he didn't trust himself to speak, and he didn't want to give Severus more reason to become annoyed with him.

Harry expected to be roughly shoved inside as he was the last time he had been in trouble, but Severus merely opened the door and stood back. Harry glanced shamefully at him before stepping it, into the rooms. The door snapped shut behind Harry, and he turned around slowly, bracing for impact.

Severus stared angrily at Harry for a long moment before walking past him, placing his hands on the back of the couch and taking a deep breath. Slowly and resolutely, he raised his eyes to meet his son's. He felt unbalanced, and some part of him was still reeling from all that had happened back in that cellar, but he was determined to maintain his temper.

"What were you thinking?" Severus growled from behind barred teeth, and Harry could tell from his quaking shoulders and clenched fists that he was trying to control his rage. "Do you have any idea what you've done today? Everything you've cost us? Everything you risked?"

"Yes," Harry said quickly, for he felt that acknowledging his mistake was the quickest path to forgiveness, and he very dearly wished not to see how angry Severus could get. "And I'm so sorry- I only wanted to help you- I was so worried, for days, and then that letter arrived-"

"Enough," Severus said darkly, shaking his head. "I am severely disappointed in you."

Harry cringed at the gentle, deeply disapproving tone. His insides felt like they'd been twisted, just by that one sentence.

There was a long silence. Minutes passed before anything was said, and Harry just waited for the lecture to continue. He didn't know what to say. Further apology seemed futile at this point; stupid and pointless, a small gesture that couldn't even being to cover the magnitude of what he had done.

"I trusted that you would remain inside this castle," Severus finally continued, taking deep, steadying breaths as he went. "And you deliberately disobeyed me. You received an anonymous note asking you to trade what might be our greatest weapon in exchange for something he probably wouldn't even have given you, and not only did you agree, you actually did come alone."

"Not alone," Harry said defensively. Severus glared at him; Harry quickly averted his eyes.

"You're right," Severus said quietly, dangerously, letting Harry know in three syllables how wrong he had been to object. "You did risk bringing another person, didn't you? Miss Weasley! A girl that is a year younger than you are, and is worth more than almost any student in this school. You may not see this, but she is worth a lot of leverage with the Death Eaters; she is the youngest and only daughter of the most prominent family in the Order of the Phoenix. Had Dumbledore not shown up, they would have taken her as well- tortured her, used her, possibly sold her off to some man- yes, they do do that! Harry, when you act, you must think about the consequences of those actions! At this rate, you won't make it to your seventh year!"

"I did think about the consequences!" Harry argued, almost near tears now. "I'm sorry, I really am sorry, but I thought it was worth it!"

"Harry," Severus said reprovingly, sternly. "Nothing is worth your life!"

"It wasn't my life I was worried about!"

Severus' increasingly angry expression fell at this, and he waited. Harry continued. "I got that letter and… I was scared. I couldn't think of what it would be like if you just… died, and I didn't do anything about it! And I wanted to go to an adult, but I didn't think they would act because they wouldn't want to risk exposing you! And I really didn't want to bring Ginny, but she said that if I didn't, then she would go to McGonagall, so I let her come- and I kept trying to protect her and keep her from getting harmed, and she told me to stop acting like she couldn't do anything, so I…" Harry stopped, choking on his words.

How dearly Severus wanted to rage at this boy. In the past, he wouldn't even have allowed himself to be alone in the same room with him for fear that he might end up tossing him out a nearby window. Now, however, when he could see the pain and guilt in Harry's expression... the boy was sincere, he knew. He had been holding his temper, but now, he felt that anger give way to something unfamiliar: utter relief. For whatever reason, it suddenly dawned on him that the only thing that truly mattered was that Harry was safe.

"Harry…" Severus said softly, hanging his head. He came to where Harry stood and put his hands on his shoulders. "I know how hard it is to make decisions like that. I'm… touched… that you would attempt to save me like that… but I would be happier if you didn't take such risks in the process. We- I- do this to protect you. If you get yourself killed, all that hard work will be in vain."

"We've been over this before," Harry said, staring at his father. "If everyone I love gets killed in the process, is it really worth it to win in the end?"

"That's a cowardly way of looking at it," Severus said firmly, pressing his lips together in a resolute line. "It was that kind of thinking that resulted in my joining the Dark Lord in the first place… you can't let this fear of losing people destroy your motivation to win. If you have to choose between yourself and me, choose yourself. You'll do more good that way than you would if you died to save me."

"But I can't do that!" Harry exclaimed. "I couldn't even do that even if I still hated you!"

"Why not?" Severus asked exasperatedly.

"Because… I don't know. Because it's not right," Harry said, and then frowned at his father's almost confused expression. "I grew up with people who treated others without a care for what was right… and I guess I just thought too negatively of their behavior to ever be able to imitate it."

Severus considered this for a moment, looking thoughtful. "You wouldn't be leaving me out of unkindness, Harry… you'd be leaving me out of duty. At my request. To do what you must is very different from abusing the rules of right and wrong. You follow your heart, and I understand that- but eventually, you're going to have to start relying more on strategy than your conscience and nobility."

"What if I can't?" Harry whispered.

Severus shook his head. "You will; I will help you." After a moment of hesitation, Severus lifted a hand and ran it over Harry's head, and the boy's eyes welled with tears.

Harry nodded, looking hard at his feet. "I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly.

A sort of choking noise escaped Severus, and he abruptly brought Harry into his arms, holding him close. "I take back what I said at the beginning of the year," Severus said, muffled by Harry's hair. "You're not at all selfish, Harry… perhaps a bit too selfless, even… It seems I was very wrong about you... I'm glad I was very wrong about you."

Now Harry had the courage to look up into Severus' eyes. He was admitting that he was wrong? "Are you trying to say you actually like me?" Harry half joked, smiling.

Severus inclined his head. "Perhaps I'm trying to say more," he admitted, giving his son a squeeze as he pulled him back. "And I seem to have forgotten to mention how very thrilled I am to have you back here alive…" Severus continued, though it seemed to make him uncomfortable to admit what he was ultimately trying to express. "I… it terrified me, to see you there tonight."

"I thought you were angry when you saw me," Harry said as he was finally released.

"Beyond anger," Severus said, voice somewhat dark. "But more afraid than anything… I've never really had that feeling before. It was… well, unpleasant," he said, looking off to the side. "So please, Harry-"

"I'll try," Harry quietly promised his father. "I'll try."

Severus nodded. "Well, I suppose that's better than nothing."

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 31

Leniency or Severity

xxx

"Honestly, sir," Harry said, as they walked down the corridor. They had been asked to return to Dumbledore's office, so that they could fill him in on what had happened and discuss their new approach. "Wouldn't you say that this experience has been punishment enough for my actions?"

Severus leveled him with a glare. "No," he replied ominously; Harry repressed the urge to shudder. The mood between them was much lighter than it ought to be, considering the subject of their conversation. Sure, his father was angry with him… but he wasn't acting it, not really.

"With all due respect, sir," Harry said, daring to push him limits. "I really don't think I ought to be punished for following my instincts…"

"No?" Severus questioned, eyebrows raised. "Well then, I suppose we won't punish you for that."

Harry almost breathed a sigh of relief, before Severus continued. "We'll punish you for complete and utter disobedience, putting all our lives in danger, giving me up as a spy, interfering with the affairs of the Order of the Phoenix, neglecting to accept the help of an adult, and following the directions of an anonymous letter-" Severus glanced at Harry with a dark look. "You have a great deal of idiocy to atone for."

Harry groaned a little and hung his head. In honesty, he had expected this… but part of him had hoped that he might be able to find his way out of it. He didn't want to know what kind of punishment Severus was going to cook up for him, especially so close the Christmas holidays.

"Oh, do settle down," Severus said, his dry tone implying amusement at the distressed look on Harry's face. "You're right in one aspect- you have already suffered for your mistakes. You honestly think I would be so harsh?"

"It's hard to tell, with you," Harry admitted darkly.

"Mmm," Severus murmured, reaching the gargoyle. "Licorice wand," he muttered irritably. "Where on earth does he come up with these passwords?" he inquired softly, shaking his head. Harry couldn't help but give him a little smile- Severus seemed less angry with him than he was trying to be.

"Severus, Harry," the Headmaster greeted them warmly at the top of the stairs. "Good to see you getting along. I worried when you left that you'd come back in a much less pleasant mood."

"Believe it or not, Albus," Severus said as he passed the older man. "I am capable of being humane. Am I not, Harry?"

"That's still debatable," Harry said, standing next to Dumbledore. "You haven't told me what my punishment is, yet."

Severus inclined his head, smirking. "Fair enough," he admitted, sitting down. "Now, Albus, I do believe we have more pertinent information to discuss?"

"Of course, of course," the Headmaster said distractedly, looking from Severus to Harry. This was the first time he'd really witnessed the two of them getting along, and however little he was witnessing right now, it was a somewhat amazing thing. He'd never thought a day would come when the two of them could coexist peacefully in a room together, much less lightly quipping at each other in general good nature, and despite their current topic of conversation. It was almost… heart warming.

Dumbledore moved behind his desk, smiling faintly still, and began. "I think the first thing we should discuss, in terms of the Order, is-"

"Wait-" Harry interrupted, somewhat surprised. "I get to stay for this part?" He was never able to stay for conversations between the headmaster and other staff members. Though he'd known that they'd been asked there to go over what had happened, he hadn't expected to be allowed to stay for business that involved things such as the Order.

"Being that I'm your- guardian, now," Severus said somewhat uncomfortably, examining his hands. His mind flickered back to when Harry had called him "Dad" in that cellar… he'd not yet asked the boy about that. He wasn't sure he planned to. "It is up to me whether you stay or go. I requested that you be able to hear this discussion- I think it's important. If you would rather go, however, you are free to do so."

"No," Harry quickly amended, taking a seat next to Severus. "I'd like to stay… I'm just surprised that I can."

Severus gave him a nod, and then turned back to Dumbledore. "As you were saying?"

"Well, first matters first, we should cover how we came to this situation."

Damn, and Harry had thought he might avoid this uncomfortable overview of events… as if he wasn't being censured enough by his father. Now he had to endure the Headmaster's eyes full of faded twinkle as he versed the man on the events. "This is why you wanted me here," Harry quietly muttered.

Severus smirked slightly, but remained silent. Served the boy right. He should feel guilty… right? Severus found himself rethinking that as he looked at the boy's face… it was sad. He looked… older, and yet, younger at the same time. Like a small child who knew what he'd done wrong… yet like an old adult who could comprehend the full magnitude of those actions. What a combination; a childlike guilt complex and an overly mature appreciation for consequences. Severus contemplated this; the boy in front of him had been forced to grow up too fast. Why hadn't he seen this before?

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm really sorry," Harry said. It was a bit difficult to come right out and say this, but with his father sitting next to him, he didn't dare protest and have to listen to every one of his statements be disproved. He knew he had been in the wrong… though he still thought he should receive some credit for his bravery.

"I'm not asking you to apologize," Dumbledore countered softly, before Harry could go any further. Severus rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. Despite his thoughts about Harry's maturity, he was still bothered by the fact that no one ever held him accountable for his actions. Dumbledore shot him a warning look, that seemed to say, You've come this far, don't ruin it for yourself now.

Severus glanced at Harry and shook his head. This boy is treated with far too much leniency, he thought to himself. Though I suppose that's no fault of his own… and he is rather difficult to blame for anything, when one actually tries to be firm with him. … Harry was very difficult to dislike, when one came to know him. Severus almost rebuked himself for that thought, and then realized it was exactly the sort of thing he was supposed to be thinking. It was such a frustrating process, readjusting his entire mindset towards the boy.

"I just need an account of what happened, apologies and justifications aside, Harry," Dumbledore continued. "This isn't about placing blame or glory, I'm sure you know that's not my objective. The ministry will need to be told something of this, but there may be certain details that we must… ah… omit, or alter, for our benefit. For the Order's benefit," he clarified.

"Ok," Harry said, nodding. "Well, I was sitting at breakfast, and I received this letter in a black envelope with white writing. I knew just by looking at it that it was something I should read in private, so I took it down to the dungeons, because not many people who probe me for information are down there."

Severus cleared his throat as though to say something, but Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him. Severus sat back in his chair, looking disgruntled.

Harry glanced at his father, frowning, and then continued. "I read it and then deliberated for awhile. I couldn't decide whether or not to go… but I guess you know my decision. I wanted to come get someone, but I thought that you wouldn't want to give up his position as a spy… so you wouldn't do anything."

Harry fell silent, seemingly waiting for a response.

"Harry," Severus said after a moment. "We have planned our every action to coordinate with moments like these. Believe me, had I been in danger and had you told Dumbledore, everything still would have gone along with our plans…. you have to trust that what we are doing is for the best. You must give the power over to the adults."

"Every time I do it backfires," Harry said solemnly, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh really?" Severus asked skeptically, crossing his arms.

"Yes, really," Harry insisted. "First year, I went to McGonagall, and told her about the Sorcerers Stone and the plot to steal it. She insisted it was safe- yet if I hadn't shown up, it would have been Voldemort's."

"Someone would have arrived," Dumbledore said. "And Voldemort never would have realized how to get it out of the mirror- though you did do an admirable job."

"Stop treating him like a child, Albus," Severus intervened. "Don't coat every situation in sugar; it's unhealthy to one's perception of good decision making. Harry, I think you should be able to make some of your own decisions, but there are certain things that you still need to leave to us."

"I wasn't finished," Harry interrupted- snapped, almost.

Harry half expecting to be rebuked for this. However, Severus just spread his hands in a small gesture and said, "Please, continue then."

"If we hadn't taken matters into our own hands in second year, Ginny would be dead and Voldemort would have returned that year. If we hadn't… sorry, sir, but if we hadn't all cursed you into silence-"

"More unconsciousness than simple silence," Severus muttered as Harry continued.

"-third year, an innocent man would have been killed- my godfather. In fourth year, a teacher was the one that did hurt me, just because I trusted him and let him guide me. Fifth year… fifth year was a mistake," he admitted quietly. "But the point is that often, my intuition is correct… and often, better than yours."

"Better is an overstatement," Severus said, crossing his arms. "Second year, if you had told someone about that blasted diary, or if you had come to another teacher with your information about the Chamber of Secrets, then you would have been much safer. We could have destroyed that blasted thing and Miss Weasley never would have been dragged into the chamber in the first place. You were lucky to be healed from that Basilisk's venom, but you may not always be so lucky. In your third year…" Severus stopped and thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "Well, you did have the help of an adult in the end, didn't you? Headmaster Dumbledore subtly recommended the use of the time turner for your purpose- yes," he added as Harry's jaw dropped slightly, "I do know about that. Otherwise, Black still would have died. You needed an adult then. In your fourth year, if you hadn't…"

Severus stopped himself, then, afraid of what he was about to say next. He had been about to state the fact that Cedric wouldn't have died if Harry hadn't asked him to take the cup out of nobility, but that was just… cruel. And as it had nothing to do with asking adults for help, it was somewhat irrelevant.

"I see your point," Severus finally surrendered, unwilling to go to that extent to make his point. "But I'm hopeful that you see mine as well. You need adults, and we need… well, I suppose we need you. Perhaps cooperation is a better alternative."

"Do you mean that?" Harry questioned, sitting forward a bit.

"I've told you before; this won't be easy for me… but yes, I do intend to keep this promise. I will attempt to cooperate rather than… ah..."

"Control?" Harry tried. Severus considered him with a slightly peeved expression for a moment, and then inclined his head.

"Mind you, there will be times where you must accept my authority on some things."

"I understand that," Harry said, nodding. The prospect of having someone to be an actual parent to him sounded… agreeable. Pleasant. His life had been full of non-committal, impermanent parental figures, but none of them had really come close to what a real parent ought to be.

"As much as I hate to interrupt," interjected the Headmaster gently, "There are two Aurors and a team of rather curious ministry officials waiting in the Entrance Hall; I doubt Professor McGonagall will be able to deter them from meeting with me for long. The story, Harry- what happened after you read the note?"

"I ran into Draco Malfoy. It struck me at that point that- well- if he really was trying to help me in this, he might be willing to help me then. In short, he agreed to come. I ran back to the Gryffindor common room to get my cloak, but Ginny caught me, and knew something was up. She wouldn't leave my side, and threatened to notify McGonagall if we left… so I allowed her to come."

Severus opened his mouth, but Dumbledore was quick to stop him from speaking, yet again. "Severus, we really must get through this. You can take your son and thoroughly lecture him later," there was a glint of humor in the old man's eyes, here, "but I must request that you refrain from interruption."

Severus glared defiantly at the Headmaster for a moment, then towards his son. After a few seconds pause, he rose abruptly, fetching several pieces of parchment, a quill, and a book off the Headmaster's desk. As Harry continued his story, he sat furiously scribbling notes…

xxx

Pain flared up through Severus' arm; he didn't answer. He only winced, receiving a pained look from Harry.

Severus status among the Death Eaters had been irrevocably damaged. However, in order to keep the Ministry from interfering with his working at Hogwarts, he and the Headmaster had carefully constructed a story that would, unless acutely investigated, imply that Severus had retained his position in Lord Voldemort's ranks.

The only option, now, was to use what they already knew, and start work on the potion as quickly as possible.

"Today."

"Today?" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, today," Severus repeated, rising from his seat and collecting several volumes off his bookshelf. "We haven't any time to spare; now that Lucius has informed the Dark Lord of our familial connection, he'll know what we're planning to do. He'll either double his efforts to kill you before such a time when the potion can be completed… or he'll find a counter-solution. In all probability, he'll try both. I don't want to take the risk of being unprepared, and neither does the Headmaster."

"But… are we even prepared to start? The way I'd understood, we hadn't even found the actual book with the potion in it, yet…"

"Well, we had a fair idea where to look, obviously, since we'd already learned the ingredients. It didn't take Miss Granger long to locate the book with the exact formula."

"Hermione?"

"I thought we'd been through this before," Severus growled, somewhat more exasperatedly than warranted.

"Well, yes, but I didn't think she'd actually be helping already, and-"

"Harry," Severus loudly interjected. "If you don't mind…?" he waved his hand at the book in front of him, and Harry quieted.

"I have a bit of reading to do," Severus quietly said as he lowered his gaze to the book. "We're finished here. Go find Miss Granger, or the Headmaster, if you have more questions, and return with the former at six tonight. And do try to be prompt."

Harry frowned slightly as he grudgingly complied with his father's request. "Sorry," he muttered, reaching for the door.

"Blast it all, Harry!" Severus yelled, thumping his hands down on the table in front of him. "I have just lost my value to the order, had to endure 4 hours of questioning at the hands of the Headmaster and those relentless, gnashing hounds the ministry refer to as Aurors, and there is mind numbing pain shooting from my left forearm all the way up to my cerebral cortex! Add to that sum '20 questions' from you and all this damned reading, and consider just why I am so bloody irritable!"

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving!" Harry yielded as he slipped out the door, before Severus could continue on his rant. "Didn't have to yell," Harry muttered quietly as he made his way down the corridor, heading for the library, where he would most likely find Hermione. As little as Harry wanted to admit it, it was a bit unsettling and somewhat hurtful to be talked to that way again. He didn't like being thought of as a thorn in his father's side. Yes, Severus had valid complaints to make him so irascible, but Harry had just been trying to ask questions.

"Harry!" a small voice exclaimed quietly. He turned around and saw Hermione heading towards him.

"Hermione," he returned. He offered a smile; she lifted her hand and smacked him smartly across the head. As if that was what he needed after Severus' little outburst.

"One of these days, Harry James Potter," she said in a trembling voice, looking on the verge of tears. "Your antics are going to get you killed!"

She threw her arms around his neck, and coming out of the shock of all her turning emotions, Harry grasped her as well. Girls could be so odd at times.

"We were so worried," she confessed, muffling her voice in his shirt. "When I realized you and Ginny were gone from the common room, well first, first I thought you two had run off somewhere to be alone… but then I ran into Ron and he told me that she'd started dating Justin Finch-Fletchley just last week, and I didn't know where you could have gone off to for such a long time! And we went to get Headmaster Dumbledore, but he was already gone, and so we went to McGonagall and she said that the portraits in his office had informed her that he had just left, on his way to rescue you two, and… oh Harry!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, mostly to console her. "I didn't mean to give you such a fright."

"Well it's just that normally, we're included in these things, or at least have a general idea of what's going on…"

"I know," Harry said quietly. "But I didn't want to put you at risk."

"You're an idiot," said Hermione affectionately, wrapping her arms around him again.

"Severus said you found the book with the full instructions on how to make the Potion?" Harry said, delicately switching topics. Hermione took the bait.

"Oh yes! Once he'd rattled off that list of ingredients, it wasn't difficult to ascertain what kind of potion he was talking about, and once you know the type of brew, you can easily find the book containing it."

"Where'd you find it?"

"The restricted section, of course."

"Of course. Is it going to be very difficult?"

Hermione gave him a dubious look. "All that time to make, all those ingredients, all those magical properties that must be so intricately woven together to form one, united, powerful substance strong enough to give the drinker almost supernatural strength against his foe, and you think it could possibly be an easy task?"

"Well I was just asking," Harry defended him, shrugging.

"Hmm," Hermione murmured. "I take it you'd like to see the book?"

"Yes, I would, actually."

"I'll run and fetch it, and you can read through it while I finish this weekend's homework."

"Is it in the common room?" Harry inquired, and Hermione shook her head.

"No, I can't take books out of the restricted section anymore. Apparently a nasty hex book got passed around the Slytherin common room earlier this year; resulted in a foul bit of work for Madame Pomfrey, once the first years got hold of it."

"The first years?" Harry exclaimed. "I would have thought the seventh would be the worst."

"No, dangerous curses are far more dangerous in the hands of an innocent, naïve child, who knows not when to wreak havoc, nor can comprehend the amount of damage a spell will do," Hermione explained, leading Harry over to the restricted section.

"Funny," Harry muttered. "I always thought Malfoy seemed quite capable of appropriately estimating the damage that could be done with a spell in our younger years."

"Well, perhaps I should correct myself," Hermione allowed. "Younger students don't comprehend the full consequences of those actions. Damage always seems wonderfully easy to reverse, when you're young." She paused a second, then smiled. "Ah, here you go," she declared, picking a velvety green book out of the row and handing it to Harry. "Page 638."

"Thanks," Harry said quietly, flipping pages as they chose a table. "Looks like a recent book."

"It's a modified version of an older one," Hermione informed him. "That's why it was so easy to pinpoint the spell we needed to use; this book is actually a condensed, modernized form of a book all about ancient blood magic, written during Voldemort's first reign. This little treasure contains just about every blood related spell or potion that could be used against Voldemort. Given how much blood he causes others to shed, and how strong a magical ingredient it is, there are quite a few of them in there. It's also written in terms much easier to understand- some of the old spells are actually completely written in Latin, in earlier versions, and the others are far too complicated to understand. At least for most people."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose you consider yourself a bit above those people?"

A wounded look crossed Hermione's face. "No… well, a bit, yes…"

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Harry said. After a moment, he said. "You know, I'm actually a bit surprised you haven't taken it upon yourself to learn the whole Latin language."

"I do wish they'd offer it as a class, here," she admitted, chewing on the end of her quill. "But depending on the field I go into after my schooling here is finished, I may still learn to speak and read it fluently."

"Fascinating," Harry jested good-naturedly, skimming over the text. Apparently, this was going to be quite complicated. "I hope Severus isn't expecting me to brew much of this," Harry said, half to himself.

"That's why he's including me, remember?" Hermione teased, a glint of humor in her eyes as she smirked up at him. "You're utterly useless with this sort of thing."

"I am not useless!" Harry retorted, half laughing. "I just don't perform well under pressure."

"Says the Boy-Who-Continues-To-Live," Hermione quipped. "Despite-The-Constant-Dangers-He-Faces-Mainly-Out-Of-Sheer-Stupidity."

"Don't push it, Hermione," Harry warned her playfully, animatedly reaching for his wand.

Hermione laughed, but took his advice and went back to work. He skimmed the rest of the text, growing bored. It really wasn't as interesting as Hermione might have made it out to be.

xxx

"You really think he'd be so displeased if we didn't come?" Harry questioned desperately, as Hermione dragged him down the corridor towards Snape's quarters.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He wanted us there at six. In your words, promptly. I will not have my standing with him worsened, even slightly- I happen to care very much that I have the respect of my professors, especially when that professor happens to be the father of one of my best friends."

"Yes, but he was in such a horrible mood when I left…"

"And as he had the graciousness to explain why, I'm sure you can understand and deal with it," Hermione said, if not a bit forcefully, as she tightened her grip on his arm. "Besides, do you really want to worsen his mood?"

"No," Harry said sullenly, dragging his feet.

"Oh honestly," Hermione huffed, reaching Snape's door.

"Honestly what?" Severus inquired as he reached the door from the opposite end of the hall at the same time.

"I- Good evening, sir," Hermione greeted him, avoiding the question. He raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but returned the greeting with a nod.

Harry looked his father over. "What've you been up to?" he asked casually, receiving a sharp poke in the side from Hermione.

"I was seeing the Headmaster about a solution for this tedious pain," Severus said, opening his door.

"Did you find one?" Harry asked, receiving another pointed glare from the friend at his shoulder.

"Yes, thank Merlin," Severus muttered, lighting a fire. "I trust you've brought the necessary materials, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir," she said, immediately starting forward and emptying the contents of her bag, one by one, on the low oak table in the sitting room.

Severus nodded in approval, and then turned to Harry. "In the next hour, we will talk about some very serious things. While I trust you, I'm not entirely sure I trust your rash nature…" he paused here, a pained look gracing his face, and extended his hand. "I am going to ask you for your wand."

"What could you possibly say that would make me need my wand?" Harry questioned, alarmed.

"Harry," Severus sighed, frustrated. "Do me a service and comply without further argument, before I incriminate myself."

"What?"

"Harry, he means he doesn't want to say something that could be taken as hurtful," Hermione clarified impatiently. "Now just hand over the wand?"

"I can't believe you think me so impulsive and lacking in self-discipline that you need to take my wand to have a conversation," Harry snapped, standing to reach into his robe pocket and hand it to his father.

"I've known you long enough not to believe otherwise," Severus said, tucking it away. "I'll give it back when we're finished."

"Yeah," Harry responded snappishly, sitting down on the couch and looking a bit miffed. Hermione and Severus actually exchanged glances, before going on.

"Previously, we had the problem of securing several ingredients," Severus started, lifting a tome from another table and lying it open on the table in front of Hermione and Harry. "This is, of course, the first step to beginning the potion. The Veela Hair, I think, shall be difficult to acquire on short notice, and expensive, but I'm sure that won't be a problem, with Dumbledore helping us. But it's more common in France than it is here-"

Hermione cut in. "I can write Viktor Krum and ask him to write Fleur-"

"Or," Severus cut in somewhat sardonically, giving Hermione a rigid look, "we could have the Headmaster floo-call the latter."

Hermione flushed. "Yes, that would be easier," she agreed quietly. Severus merely nodded.

"Sir," Harry said. "How are we going to secure the blood and Oath of secrecy from a Death Eater… and the flesh of Voldemort… if you, well, you know…"

"Yes," Severus said uneasily. "Well, this is the part that I thought might anger you-"

"Dumbledore's not making you go back, is he?" Harry said slowly… dangerously.

"No," Severus breathed, avoiding eye contact. He moved around the couch, while Harry and Hermione watched him, looking deep in thought. "I spoke with Draco Malfoy earlier- after you left, Harry. I believe he is the best possible source for our ingredients."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "If Malfoy isn't a Death Eater, then…" he broke off, seeing the change in Severus' expression at that last bit. "He's becoming a Death Eater, isn't he?"

Their eyes connected, but Severus gave no answer.

"Isn't he?" Harry demanded, raising his voice. "Just when I was beginning to trust the little git, he turns around and-"

"Harry, wait a moment," Severus said, stepping around the table and urging Harry back into his chair by his shoulders.

"Wait a moment? For what? To be stabbed in the back again? You know, you'd think there's no one I can trust- in fact, Hermione, is there anything you'd like to share with me?"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, hurt.

"What Draco did is much more complicated than a simple betrayal, so let me explain before you finish this little outburst," Severus said forcefully, crossing his arms.

"Little outburst," Harry muttered to himself. "Oh, go ahead, explain," Harry said with a sarcastic wave of his hand, at the narrowing of Snape's eyes. "Explain what justifies joining the Death Eaters!"

"I joined the Death Eaters once upon a time, you do realize!" Severus snapped at him, looking affronted. "No, I suppose nothing justifies it, especially where you Gryffindors are concerned, but perhaps there are some ways to atone for it! So listen, before you jump to your rash conclusions and begin wielding the sword of blame and condemnation!"

"Well I didn't mean-" Harry started defensively, only to be cut off by Severus.

"It's perfectly clear what you meant!"

This is why it always came in handy to have Dumbledore standing by, to keep such fights from escalating. On the inside, Severus knew he ought not to be yelling at the boy in front of him, especially after his gruff treatment this afternoon, but he really didn't think he could help it. He hadn't been angered by Harry's statement… he had been wounded. And, impenetrable brick wall he was used to being, that was a difficult emotion for him to deal with… so here he was, making things ten times worse, by lashing out at the boy. Honestly, it was doubtful whether either one of them would survive the upcoming holiday at this rate, let alone the entire summer to follow.

But Harry had touched somewhere deep… not with his comments about Death Eaters, but when he had reached out to his father in that cellar. When they had shared smiles and civil conversation… it had been… was nice the right word? Well, supposing it was, yes, it had been nice. And now, he felt like it was right back to square one. He was getting better, day by day, at forgiving himself for his past mistakes. But would Harry ever forgive him?

Harry hadn't meant to offend Severus, he really hadn't. Not one part of him had intended to insult Severus by insulting anyone who would join them… and yet, he knew he had. But somehow, he was so used to going into defensive mode that he didn't' quite know how to stop arguing. If he calmly apologized and said what he was thinking, it would feel like admitting defeat. And part of him was still aware that Hermione was in the room with them- ah, yes, there she was, standing in the shadows, trying to be inconspicuous as possible. She was clearly uncomfortable- but still listening with rapt attention to their- ah- debate… and he didn't want to sacrifice his pride… not in front of one of his best friends.

"Fine," Harry finally breathed, trying to gracefully end the fight. "Explain to me… about Malfoy."

Severus stared at him for a moment, slightly put off by the way Harry had changed the topic of the argument, but he allowed it. After all, they needed to get through this… but they would talk later. About multiple things.

"Draco's opinion of Dumbledore has… never been a fond one, to state it lightly," Severus began. "Thick as he may sometimes be, he is one of the most observant boys I've ever taught- he learned that from his father. He watches and mentally takes notes, and he doesn't forget the things that are said and done by others. He's more than aware of how Dumbledore tends to treat people… do you understand what I mean by that?"

Severus was the first to admit that Dumbledore wasn't perfect… but with Hermione Granger in the room, a girl who seemed (at least from what Severus had seen) to stake her life on having the trust, approval, and favoritism of her teachers… he didn't trust himself to speak too freely of his employer.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "The way he always has a plan… and whether you like it or not, you end up following it."

"Precisely," Severus agreed. "For some reason, Draco has it in his head that if he goes to the Headmaster for help… he'll be indebted to the old man, and he insists that this would be far worse than joining the Dark Lord."

Hermione made a scoffing noise from her place in the background, and Harry frowned. "I asked you to call him Voldemort," he said.

Severus quirked an eyebrow in challenge, and Harry realized how rudely that had come out. "I mean," he quickly corrected, "please- call him Voldemort?"

"Better," Severus conceded. "I, of course, tried to convince the boy of the stupidity of his logic, but he would have none of it. You see, his father seems determined to have him inducted into the Death Eaters before Christmas this year-"

"A fine gift," Harry muttered. This seemed to amuse Severus, but only slightly, as he neutralized his expression only a moment later and carried on.

"And, unfortunately, we are in no position to stop it."

"Well why not?" Hermione spoke up, for the first time in twenty minutes. "I mean, we know ahead of time- can't we find a way to force him to stay here, or-"

"And out of his parent's hands? You cannot forcibly keep a child from his parents, Miss Granger, unless he wishes for you to do so and has sufficient evidence that he's being abused. What's more, we have only my word on what's to happen during the holidays, and that's hardly evidence enough to stop Lucius Malfoy, one of the world's most connected men, from getting to his son."

"And what about after?" Hermione asked.

"It will still be of no use. There are spells that can be used to hide a Dark Mark, so none of the teachers will notice it."

"But you'll know it's there!" Harry protested.

"Yes, but that's where things become very complicated," Severus said. "If he were to be arrested- well, first of all, it's highly doubtful that they would send a child to Azkaban. Second of all, how could we possibly get any inside information that way?"

"Wha- well, Malfoy already said he wouldn't work for Dumbledore, right? So how would we get any anyways?"

"Just because he won't 'enslave himself to an old, doddering fool like Dumbledore', as he so eloquently stated it," Severus said, half rolling his eyes, half smirking. "Does not mean he's not somewhat willing to give us information- and the ingredients we require for the potion."

"In exchange for what?" Hermione asked coldly. Severus turned and smirked at her, his black eyes glinting with unidentifiable thoughts.

"Don't miss a beat, do you Miss Granger?" he asked oddly, and then turned back to Harry. "He wants your testimony. When all this is over… that's what he wants. A ticket out of Azkaban."

"Very clever," Hermione commented from behind, crossing her arms.

"That's a Slytherin," Severus said, nodding his head. "So, Harry; what shall I tell him?"

"Tell him that I want to speak to him privately," Harry said, folding his arms.

"I'm not sure that's such a wonderful idea, Harry," Hermione said.

"And why not?"

"Because if nothing else, Draco Malfoy is a Slytherin- no offense, sir," she said apologetically, glancing at Snape. "But he's manipulative, deceitful, and he'll know just how to talk to gain your trust and give himself loopholes. You're not the best at paying careful attention to detail."

Harry started to argue, but Severus forestalled him with a look, and agreed with Hermione. "The girl's right; Draco Malfoy would talk circles around you. What, you doubt my word?" he asked at Harry's dubious look. "Given a few more years of his father's influence, he'd most likely be able to persuade you to sell your very soul."

"He's never struck me as that intelligent," Harry muttered, looking resentful at what was seemingly praise of another boy by his father.

"Well, his strength has never been in the area of subtlety, no," Severus allowed, "nor does he have tremendous skill at stealth or sound reasoning- but remember, he is in my house for a reason."

Harry laughed bitterly. "I always thought it was just because he was a bully."

"Being a Bully has nothing to do with the traits of a Slytherin!" Severus snapped, narrowing his eyes sharply at Harry. "You should know that, after last year."

Harry immediately flushed. Not only at the statement itself and the memories it tugged to the surface, but also at the harsh, resentful tone to his father's voice. He had hoped they would move past that quickly; he could see now this wasn't going to be the case.

"I said I was sorry for that," Harry said quietly, looking up at Severus.

Severus stared at him for a moment, jaw tightened and teeth grinding within his mouth. He hadn't meant to snap like that… he hadn't meant to do or say a fair few of the things that he had today. This was perhaps the scariest part of learning he was Harry's father; he'd come to know the boy, and he wanted to be a good father to him, and he wanted to be closer to the boy, and he wanted to be able to control his temper… but he wasn't sure he would be able to. It was more complicated than he'd ever imagined it would be.

"Perhaps," he said stiffly, "this isn't the best time to discuss this… any of this."

"Do you want us to leave, sir?" Hermione inquired softly.

"Again?" Harry added grudgingly, sitting back and folding his arms.

"No, that is exactly what I don't want," Severus muttered, resting his hands on the back of the couch. "Not until we've resolved what you plan to do about this."

"What, are you afraid I'll go ruin the whole plan?" Harry asked.

"For a lack of better words, yes," Severus said, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't need to be babysat!"

"You've proven otherwise in the past."

"I'm capable of controlling myself! You don't have to do it for me!"

"As your father," Severus said, stressing the last word, "it is my responsibility to guide you where your judgment may be clouded."

"Fine," Harry said. "So what, I'm hereby held hostage until you hear what you want out of me?"

Severus' eyes widened slightly; he snapped his open mouth shut, and then very slowly responded. "I have no wish to deal with you when you are like this. I've prepared my spare room for you. Go to bed, and I will talk to you in the morning."

"Are you kidding? You're sending me to bed?"

"No, I am quite serious about this. Goodnight."

"But-"

"Goodnight," Severus said more forcefully. The warning note in his voice was enough to deter Harry from further arguments, but his anger was not abated. He glared at his father for a moment, and finally stomped past him, slamming the door with far more force than was necessary to adequately close it.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, and then turned to address Hermione. She spoke first, however. "Sir, I know you're very tired, but if I could have a word with Harry before I leave?"

"Be my guest," Severus scoffed, gesturing towards the closed door.

"Thank you," she said, turning and heading towards Harry's room.

Hermione knocked on his door. There was no response. She turned towards Snape, who was watching with a doubtful look on his face. "The doors won't lock without a special charm issued by myself," he said. "Let yourself in." He nodded toward the door, and Hermione reached down for the knob. He was right, it wasn't locked.

She entered the room and ducked a flying pillow.

"Oh, it's you," Harry said grudgingly. "Thanks for all your help out there."

"Shut up, you idiot," Hermione said heatedly, crossing her arms. "You are acting like a five year old. Do you even realize how immature and completely irrational you are being right now?"

"Don't try to tell me off like I'm-"

"Well someone has to, and you'd better shape up before Professor Snape does it, because he's going to be a lot less indulgent than I am apt to be!"

"You're telling me. The man has the worst temper-"

"Don't, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head with an almost deadly look in her eyes. "You deserved to be reprimanded a lot more than you were, and you should know it. The worst temper- you want to talk about the worst temper? Look at yourself! The man attempts to have a civilized discussion with you about the problems at hand, and you go completely off on him and act like he's treating you so horribly- he's not, Harry."

"Where does he get off thinking he can-"

"Keep you from making stupid mistakes? Give you advice?"

"He talks down to me, like I'm an idiot!"

"You're being oversensitive," Hermione snapped. "He is your father- this is what you've wanted your whole life, and now that you've finally got it, you're doing your very best to make sure you get rid of it again."

"A parent isn't supposed to treat you like they own you."

"He doesn't- he treats you like he's responsible for you, which he is. No offense, Harry, but you're not exactly the best authority on how a father should behave. You've certainly never had a good look at what a family should be like. You lived in a house where you saw good parenting as doting on one's child and yielding to all of said child's demands."

"I never thought that was good parenting," Harry said.

"And yet that's what you're expecting."

"He's not even trying."

"He's trying a hell of a lot more than you are."

xxx End Chapter 31 xxx

Chapter 32

Negotiation

xxx

"I am trying!" Harry defended himself. "How would you even know? It's not as if you've been around to observe my every action; you're judging based on my reaction to Severus' treatment of me."

"Harry," Hermione ground out irritably; she glared at him for a moment, and then sighed, attempting to get control of her temper. Rubbing her forehead and slumping her shoulders in concession, she moved to sit next to him on the bed. "I thought you understood how much he's going through. You can't expect him to be perfectly cheerful after a day like this, when it's a struggle just for him to be tolerant."

"Well, I know, it's just-" Harry paused for a moment. "I don't know. But aren't I allowed to be upset every once in awhile? Do I have to be agreeable all the time?"

"No, I suppose that would be asking too much. But I just don't think you realize how… well, childlike you are being, and how… potentially unpleasant you are making it for Professor Snape to be around you right now."

"Yeah, well, that's why he sent me to bed, isn't it?" Harry retorted grudgingly. "So he could rid himself of my presence."

"I doubt that's the case," Hermione said. "More so you can calm down and think rationally before he gets a final answer from you. He just wants to make it as easy as possible for you to do what's best in this situation; it's almost quite touching, Harry. I don't think I ever would have believed that he was so caring an individual. Well, caring isn't the right word," she allowed, at Harry's dubious look. "Just… attentive… receptive. Wise; a good guardian- provider of guidance, I guess. I suppose in all his years of teaching, he's learned how to effectively deal with minors, even if he hasn't really bothered himself with doing so… until now. Be thankful, Harry. You have someone to take care of you now; you don't have to make all the decisions on your own."

Harry remained silent, and Hermione sat with him for another few moments. "Well, I suppose I'd better go," she finally said, rising from the bed and smoothing out her skirt. "Think about what I've said, and do try to be a bit more patient. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."

It was with that final note that she left Harry alone, and entered the main rooms once more. Severus was sitting on his couch, gazing thoughtfully into the flames he'd kindled in the fireplace.

"Well," she said, a bit awkwardly. "I- umm- thank you for having me here, tonight, Professor. I expect you'll be contacting me if I'm needed again?"

"Certainly," Severus said with a nod, and tearing his eyes from the warm light, he raised his eyebrows. "And in the future, Miss Granger, you might take care to place a silencing charm on the rooms in which you intend to speak so audaciously."

Hermione flushed a deep color, and Severus nodded. "I suppose I should thank you for your… ah… support- though I beg you not to begin a silly campaign for me, like the S.P.E.W. organization you attempted to orchestrate in your fourth year. That would be most unnecessary."

"I recognize that, sir," she muttered quietly, willing the pink color still tinting her cheeks to go away. "I'm sorry if I said anything that was out of line… but I felt it was better coming from me than… well, you have to understand that Harry will always forgive his friends."

"I… understand," Severus said with difficulty, as though it pained him to agree with Hermione Granger. "The adults in his life have consistently failed him, and he feels I'm bound to do the same. Hence, I have exercised a certain amount of leniency with him… trying as that may have been."

"Well," Hermione said, looking at the ground. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing an excellent job."

Severus had the grace to nod, but could hardly bring himself to say thank you. He wasn't sure, after all, that she was right.

"Yes, well," he said, rising from the couch. "I'm certain I'll be seeing you tomorrow," he said, opening the door for her to exit. Clearly being dismissed, she did so, bidding him a polite goodnight on her way out.

Finally, Severus was alone.

xxx

"It's nearly noon, are you going to get up or are you going to stay in there and sulk all day?"

Harry sat up groggily, rubbing the back of his head. He hadn't meant to sleep so late, but apparently, he'd been much more tired than he'd realized. His door was still shut, so that was something; Severus was respecting his privacy. That was nice; with a stab of guilt, Harry realized that after last night, he wouldn't have expected that courtesy. At least, not from his Aunt and Uncle.

"I'll be up in a minute," Harry reluctantly replied. He would have liked to go back to sleep until Monday, when Severus would be back to classes. He hardly wanted to face the man after… well. Hermione had been right, and he was ashamed, to say the least. What had he been so angry about? What had driven him to act like that?

He rose and pulled on the pair of trainers nearest to his bed. He fetched the shirt he'd been wearing yesterday from the hook on the back of the door, and donning it, left his room.

He was greeted by the pleasant smell of breakfast foods; odd, considering Severus had said it was already noon. The older man was seated at his table, sipping a cup of what looked to be coffee, and looking over a copy of the Daily Prophet. He wasn't reading it, though; his eyes were fixed in one spot, staring unseeingly at the middle of the page. Harry suspected, with a wave of relief, that he was saving Harry the awkwardness of meeting his intense gaze as he walked across the room. He was making himself look preoccupied, in order to… was it to put Harry at ease?

"I thought it was noon," Harry said quietly. Severus looked up at him and set the paper aside. "It was, but when nine came around and you were still soundly asleep, I decided it would be a good time to make the potions you'll be using as constants in class this week. I suppose I got a bit carried away in it."

"Oh," Harry said, looking down at his hands resting on the back of the chair.

"You may sit, you realize," Severus said slowly, and Harry realized he hadn't done so yet.

Wordlessly, the younger boy sat, and Severus regarded him for a moment. "Well," he said, sounding atypically ill at ease. "Would you… care for breakfast?" The expression on his face was one of forced politeness, and wasn't very convincing, but Harry appreciated it anyways.

"Yeah, thanks," he said quietly. Severus nodded and moved to fix them each a plate. He hoped the boy realized how very hard he was trying; because he really was. He had never been one for small talk or pleasant conversation over meals, but after his snappishness yesterday, Harry's subsequent behavior, and Miss Grangers subtle hints alluding to his temper, he decided that he would have to put in the effort. After all, as a child, he'd never enjoyed the wordless family dinners he'd been forced to endure… in fact, at times, they'd been downright excruciating to tolerate. He was determined not to force the same experience upon Harry.

Severus set a plate out in front of the boy, and returned to his own seat. "I thought this might be a good time to discuss what you'd like to do during the Christmas Holidays," Severus commented idly, careful to sound delicately impassive.

Harry looked up in surprise; Severus wanted to talk about this? He had firmly expected to be reprimanded for his behavior from before… but he wasn't going to bring it up now, if Snape was willing to avoid the subject for the moment.

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked.

"Well, I haven't any favorite Holiday pastimes, if that's what you're asking. I know you've always stayed here or visited the Weasleys, however, and don't wish to force you away from those traditions, if you're so inclined to have them."

"No," Harry quickly said. "I mean, I'd like to see the Weasleys at some point, yeah, but…"

"Well," Severus said a bit more casually than Harry believed was natural, "I could make arrangements for us to… leave, if you'd like."

"Leave where?"

"Well, I normally spend my summers and other time outside of Hogwarts in a small house… modest, not very lovely… in a muggle neighborhood, but now that the Dark- Voldemort," he bit the name out, "is out for my blood… I think returning there would be foolish. I have a manor- inheritance, from my family, that I've left untouched for years- but it's hidden, and it's adequate to my- to our needs, if you'd like to go there."

"I'd like to see it… yes," Harry said, a bit more hopefully than he'd hoped to express himself. "That is, if you're alright with it."

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I weren't," Severus commented dryly. "Well, we can do that then… and I'm sure the Weasleys would love to see you on Boxing Day, if you'd like to go then."

"Yes, I'd like that very much."

"And you may of course see more of your friends, if you wish," Severus added dispassionately, focusing on his plate. Not surprisingly, kindness was proving to be one of the most difficult emotions for Severus to allow himself to reveal as he came to know Harry. It was a feeling and an action he'd grown quite unaccustomed to displaying in the past 16 years.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly. Severus nodded curtly. The two sat in silence for the following fifteen minutes, each man focusing intently on the food in front of him, but neither paying much attention to its actual consumption.

"I'm really sorry," Harry said after a while, not quite meeting Snape's eyes. "I was out of line last night."

"You were," Severus agreed stiffly, nodding. "I'm glad you can see that."

"Well, I had a bit of a push," Harry admitted.

"I heard."

Both smiled slightly at that. It could never be said that Hermione was meant to be a Ravenclaw; despite her brains, she didn't lack one ounce of the Gryffindor boldness her House was famous for.

"I just… it was a bit overwhelming, all that, after all that had just happened," Harry explained rather lamely, picking up his fork and pushing his food around the plate. "I'm not very good at controlling my temper," he admitted, looking back up at Severus.

"Well," Severus said, a stern expression replacing the slightly softer one he'd held before, "I suggest that you attempt to improve that particular skill. I fear that my recent leniency with you may give you the notion that I will allow this sort of behavior in the future; do not be mistaken, it will not. I still demand the same respect of you as I did when you were merely my student, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied quietly.

"Understand that I will hold you to this agreement in the future," Severus said, evaluating Harry's expression carefully. He was surprised that this had not elicited a resentful reaction from the boy; if experience had taught him anything, it was that Harry Potter was nothing if not impertinent to authority and too arrogant to follow the rules. The look on Harry's face, however, displayed neither of those feelings.

"Now," Severus said, assuming a more conversational tone. "I can understand if you'd like to speak to Draco Malfoy yourself," he conceded. "I offer you a compromise; you may negotiate with him, but I will be present. I want to make sure that nothing escapes our attention; this is very important."

"That's agreeable enough," Harry said, nodding. "Thank you."

Severus nodded, and they finished their meals in comfortable silence.

xxx

"How much blood do you need?" Hermione asked from atop the cleared table, examining, with a small amount of trepidation, the silver knife she was holding in her hands. Severus narrowed his eyes, running his finger over the text of the aged book they were using, and tapping at a spot on the page, his brow creasing. He looked up at Hermione with some concern.

"Harry," he said, picking up several vials and moving to her side. "Go to my store cupboard, and find the blood replenishing potion, please. It's labeled as such."

Harry wordlessly obeyed, and Severus turned to Hermione. "It would be better if you let me."

She winced slightly, but handed over the knife. "I suppose," she allowed, watching him warily as he sterilized the knife. "How much?" she repeated, glancing at the collection of vials he'd brought over.

"We should fill five of those," he admitted morosely. "The same amount from myself, and with some luck, Malfoy."

Hermione's eyes had widened slightly, but at his command, she held out her shaking arm and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"Isn't there some spell we could use to extract the blood from her?" Harry asked from Severus side, having returned with the requested potion. "I mean, some less gruesome way."

"Doubtful," Severus said sardonically, glancing at his charge. "Without the training of a mediwitch, there's no way to know just where you are drawing the blood from- it could prove quite severe if a mistake were to be made."

"Oh," Harry muttered rather lamely.

"Quite," Severus murmured, running his eyes up and down Hermione's arm, searching for the telling sign of a vein in a dark purple streak. "I think," he said, pressing the cool edge of the knife to a spot just below the crook of her elbow, "that we can cut right there, and extract enough blood without severing the vein or causing uncontrollable bleeding."

"You think?" Hermione asked, voice high and frightened.

"Never fear, Miss Granger," Severus drawled, making the incision. "You're in safe hands." His tone was cynical and mordant at best, but nevertheless, believable.

"What, because you've bled so many people?" Hermione inquired in a mildly frantic, uptight tone, as if challenging his previous statement.

His gaze flickered to hers, and with his silence, she understood. He had; he was a Death Eater- the main Potions provider to Voldemort and his followers. He had of course done this before. Ironically… this notion relaxed her a bit.

"I'm going to make the incision here, Harry," Severus said, indicating a spot on her arm with the blade of his knife and handing Harry one of the vials. "I shall need your assistance."

Glancing first at Hermione's expression, Severus made a quick but precise movement with the blade of the knife, creating a deep but short gash in the crook of her arm.

"This is disgusting," Harry muttered, holding the vial below Hermione's arm for the blood to run into, as he had been instructed to do. What didn't make it into the vial was running onto his hands, and he didn't enjoy it one bit.

"Do try to make sure none of it is wasted," Severus barked, seeing the mess dripping from Harry's hands onto the clean stone floor. "We wouldn't want Miss Granger dying from blood loss due to your carelessness."

"Dying?" Hermione whispered in a strangled voice.

"Forgive me," Severus said evenly, raising an eyebrow.

"But-"

"You will not die," he snapped in annoyance. "Now please, I am trying to concentrate!"

Hermione sucked in a dry sob, and Severus' eyes widened infuriately. "Miss Granger!"

This, of course, did not help, and more of these desperate, girlish sounds followed.

"Hermione, it's not a big deal-"

"I have a problem with blood, alright Harry?" Hermione snapped, choking back another sob. "It's just upsetting."

"You might have mentioned that before volunteering for this job," Severus growled, and then with a lightly sadistic touch to his tone, added, "I could have cut Weasley open instead."

"If she faints, you're going to regret it, Severus," Harry said, earning himself another caustic admonishment.

"There," Severus said about ten minutes later, as he put the final touch on the bandage he'd strapped onto Hermione's arm and gave her the last bottle of blood replenishing potion. "Not so bad, was it?"

"Speak for yourself," Hermione complained in a low voice, finishing off her series of potions.

Severus shrugged unapologetically and began to clean up his lab.

"We can do mine last of all, about two weeks from now, but we'll need Malfoy's soon," Severus said. "Miss Granger and I will be starting on the preparatory stage of the potion soon here, Harry; why don't you pen a missive requesting his presence in this lab later tonight? You can speak to him then."

"I suppose," Harry said. "May I borrow some parchment and a quill?"

"Yes, go into my office. They're in the top left drawer of my desk- and touch nothing else, for I shall know!" He called out after Harry, who was already walking through the door, rolling his eyes. Oh well, it was one step up; normally, Severus wouldn't have allowed Harry anywhere near his desk.

"I trust," Severus said, turning back to Hermione, "that you have already perused the text on preparation?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, nodding vigorously.

"Good," Severus replied. "Once you have ensured the cauldron we will be using is properly cleaned and sterilized, you may begin the formula for the dilution of the blood. It is of utmost importance that you perform this step with grievous care, you realize. If it's too strong, it will become highly volatile when we begin adding more to the potion."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"I don't want your best, I just want it done right," Severus growled, narrowing his eyes at her.

Rather than retort, Hermione nodded and went to work. Glad for this, Severus headed to his office to make note of the steps they were taking, for later reference in case something should go wrong.

As Severus might have expected, the moment he entered his office, there was a flurry of movement and a slamming of his desk drawer as Harry rushed to stash something that he'd found.

"Can I not trust you for five minutes alone in this office?" Severus barked angrily, taking quick strides towards his desk.

"I didn't mean to!" Harry yelled, scooting away from the desk.

Severus came to his desk and flattened his hands against it, glaring down at Harry. "You have five seconds to tell me what you were doing, before I find out myself and punish you like never before."

Harry hurriedly opened the drawer and grabbed at something, thrusting a small photograph at the Potions Master. "I swear, that's all I was looking at," he said, sitting back in Severus' chair.

Severus looked down at the picture in his hands. It was a photo of himself and Lily; she was laughing into his shoulder, and he was holding her with an amused smile on his face.

"I'm surprised you have pictures of her," Harry said quietly, looking down at the floor.

Severus nodded. "I forgot I had this," he said, running his callused thumb over it. "What were you digging for?"

"Ink," Harry replied, shrugging. Severus rolled his eyes and lifted a small black jar from his desk, opening it.

"Behold," he said, waving it under Harry's nose. "Ink."

"Right," Harry said sheepishly, grimacing. Severus shook his head and looked back down at the photo.

"Why were you so desperate to hide this?" Severus inquired, looking back up at Harry.

"I thought you would be angry with me."

"Angry about the photograph, or the fact that you were rummaging through my desk?"

"Both."

Severus considered Harry for a moment, holding the photo in his hands. He realized he'd hardly shared any of his past with the boy; naturally, the child must think he didn't intend to.

"Would you like this?" Severus asked, extending the picture.

Harry stared at him, his eyes a bit wide, for a moment. "Do you mean that?"

"When are you going to learn that I always mean what I say?" Severus asked, shaking his head.

Harry reached out and took the picture, smiling slightly. "Thank you," he murmured quietly.

Severus nodded and came around the desk to clasp Harry's shoulder, guiding him up and away from the chair. "Now," he said, his tone resuming its customary formality. "Why don't you go sit in the lab and write your letter, since you can't seem to resist the allure of my ever intriguing and oh so fascinating desk-"

"I was looking for ink!"

Severus chuckled quietly and gave Harry a light push into the next room.

xxx

It was four o' clock when two letters found their way into Malfoy's hands.

Malfoy wasn't at all amused that the Potions Master had decided to interrupt his planned evening with Pansy, to meet with Potter, no less. He was perfectly aware that the older man had set the time for a reason, but did it have to be so damned inconvenient?

Muttering angrily under his breath, Malfoy made his way down to the Potions classroom. He was walking briskly; it had been made perfectly clear in the letter following Potter's that though Harry was the one whom Malfoy would be speaking with, Snape would be overseeing the entire affair, and Malfoy was not to be late. He didn't think testing his Head of House's patience seemed like an entirely brilliant plan.

xxx

"He's late," Severus muttered, glancing up at the clock.

"By two minutes," Harry said, hiding a smile. So maybe his father wasn't as biased as he appeared to be. "Are you going to take points?"

"From my own house? Of course not," Severus replied, smirking.

…Or maybe he was.

A knock sounded at the door. "You can let him in," Severus said, folding his arms. He wasn't looking forward to this next hour, but he could see that if he didn't get it over with now, Harry would just meet with the boy behind his back, and that was the last thing Severus wanted.

Harry nodded and did as he was told.

"You're late," he said, as Malfoy walked through the door. Malfoy threw him an annoyed glare and turned to his head of house.

"You wanted to speak to me?"

"No, Harry wanted to speak to you," Severus said, nodding towards his son. "I'm just here to watch."

"Oh," Malfoy said, smirking knowingly. "Working on your impulse control there, Potter?"

"Oh, I trust Harry," Severus said, placing his hands behind him on his desk. "I'm here because I've yet to find reason for trusting you."

"Well," Malfoy sneered, throwing a nasty glance in Severus' direction. "There's a surprise. I should have known you wouldn't trust me, despite the repeated demonstrations of loyalty I've shown."

"Only because I know all too well of deceit, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said restrainedly, clasping his hands in front of him, careful to guard his tongue. He'd already been warned by Dumbledore not to push the boy away, but after years of showing the boy favor in interest of remaining on good terms with his father, it was difficult not to finally show his true feelings when he no longer had to keep the pretenses of loyal death eater and devoted friend to Lucius Malfoy.

"Yes, you certainly used a lot of it to get where you are today, didn't you sir?" Malfoy inquired with a delicately checked expression, balancing between innocent curiosity and outright jest.

"Just whose side are you on, Malfoy?" Harry interjected, imitating his fathers glare all too well.

"I wasn't referring to his betrayal of the Dark Lord," Malfoy answered, smirking.

"Draco," Severus said warningly, gaining the boy's attention.

"Ah, I understand. Some things are best kept between friends, right Severus?"

"I did not give you permission to use my first name," Severus snapped irritably. "And I suggest you work a little harder to earn my respect, because we are least of all friends. If you can't prove to me that you are worthy of higher standing in my eyes, then you shall remain from this point forward nothing more than a student, and not a well liked one at this rate."

"Yes sir," Malfoy replied, careful to keep his tone just shy of insolence. "Well, I suppose we should get down to the reason for my being here."

"I agree," Severus said stiffly. "Harry," he nodded towards the boy, indicating his turn to talk.

It was at this point that Harry realized he hadn't any form of plan for the coming conversation. He thought he'd had a pretty good idea of why he wanted to talk to Malfoy about when he'd demanded to do so, but upon reflection, he realized he'd really just wanted control for the sake of control. What was the point of this? Why hadn't he just let Severus handle this?

Well, if he was going to be an Auror, he was going to have to learn how to deal with people in these situations. He decided the direct route was best for now; simple questions that Malfoy couldn't talk his way out of.

"First of all," Harry began, "I want to know from you just why you are refusing to help Dumbledore."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked around lackadaisically. He didn't answer right away; rather, he singled out a chair on the other side of the room and pulled out his wand, flicking it and making it scoot across the room to him. He sat down at his own leisure, and then looked back up at Harry.

"I would think," he said, sitting back and crossing one leg over his other knee, "that you of all people would understand just why I don't want to be working for Dumbledore. Yes, Potter, I do mean working for; after all, by agreeing to give you and Professor Snape inside information, I am helping. The answer is simple; I do not wish to be under the control of a man who's lived so many years and had so many victories that he forgets his own infallibility. Power and praise delude one's sense of wisdom. He's so confident in the choices he makes that he overlooks all the small details, and sees people as a means to achieve an end, rather than as knowledgeable allies who have something significant to offer. He's rather like the Dark Lord himself, aside from the fact that his goals are much different and his tactics less severe."

"Dumbledore is nothing like the Dark Lord," Harry defended the headmaster, although he wasn't sure why.

"If that were true," Malfoy said smoothly, sitting forward, "do you really think that he would be the only wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ever feared?"

Harry's brow lowered slightly as he considered this. He didn't quite understand. "What are you getting at?"

"The Dark Lord fancies himself the most powerful wizard in the world," Malfoy said, narrowing his icy grey eyes and lowering his voice, as though the slow rhythm of his voice and intense look on his face might, in and of itself, sway his adversary's opinion. "He believes his strategic way of thinking and powerful skills at manipulation are what set him apart from other wizards; these two things have never failed him. His attempt at immortality, however, did fail him, as do his uses of intimidation and blackmail- case A, Severus Snape," Malfoy said, jerking his head over his shoulder. "Dumbledore doesn't use the latter two, but he does possess that one skill that has never failed even the Dark Lord himself. The ability to use people as tools and strategize.

"Dumbledore's power is impressive, yes, but I believe the Dark Lord is more fearful of what might happen if he attempts to kill Dumbledore directly. What does he think might happen? Well, he can only guess, because he knows that Dumbledore's logic is at the same level as his own. He knows that Dumbledore thinks the same way.

"Now ask yourself this: if I don't wish to join the Dark Lord because I don't wish to be controlled, why would I wish to join someone who uses the same logic?"

Now Harry could see what Severus had meant when he'd said Draco Malfoy could talk circles around him. He wasn't even sure what had just been said to him, but somehow, it made perfect sense in his mind. He'd gained one insight from that explanation, and he knew it was making him feel exactly how Malfoy had intended.

Severus was watching Harry and Malfoy carefully. He knew he'd have to deal with this later; Harry would no doubt be scrutinizing Dumbledore's actions very carefully, and more attention than necessary would be drawn to the man's every fault.

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry responded, trying to appear unfazed. However, for the life of him, he couldn't remember why he had doubted Malfoy's reasons for avoiding comradeship with Dumbledore. He knew he had to keep asking questions, though; he might never get the chance, otherwise. At least, not with Severus here, and he could confess now that he rather liked having the other man in the room.

"I believe your next question would most likely be, 'why are you joining the Death Eaters?'," Malfoy said snidely, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be asking the questions here," Harry objected, mildly irritated.

"Oh, I'm wrong then?" Malfoy inquired sardonically, raising his eyebrows.

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus interjected from his side of the room. "You are here to answer Mr. Potter's questions, not direct him away from the questions you don't want to answer. Kindly restrict your remarks to factual rejoinders to Mr. Potter's inquiries."

"Fine," Malfoy replied calmly, turning around to face Harry again. "Your next question then, Mr. Potter."

"Yes," Harry said, trying to appear as calm and collected as the other two in the room were. How did they stay so… stoic? "I-" he paused, and then realized that there was nothing else for it. He could think of only one question. "Why do you want to become a Death Eater?"

Malfoy suppressed a snicker, mainly for the sake that Severus was in the room, and composed himself before answering. "I don't want to become a Death Eater, Potter," he said.

Damn. A good answer.

"Fine then," Harry said, sounding a bit more frustrated and petulant than he'd meant to be. "Why are you joining the Death Eaters?"

"Because I have no other choice," Malfoy replied simply.

"Mr. Malfoy," immediately came Severus' dangerous voice.

"What?" he replied exasperatedly. "You asked me for nothing more than simple, factual rejoinders, correct?"

"I said factual. There was no mention of simplicity. Elaborate."

"In which way, Professor?" Malfoy inquired sweetly.

"I want to know," Harry said, voice raised, before Severus could bite out a retort. "Why you have no other choice."

"Judging by the skeptical tone to your voice, I'd say you don't believe this is true, Potter."

"At the moment, I don't."

"It's complicated."

"So explain to me. What makes it so complicated?"

"Plenty of things," Malfoy replied. "My father, my desire to live-"

"Money? Selfish motivations-?"

" –the desire to provide valuable information for you!" Malfoy continued, voice finally raised above that level of calm he'd kept it at. "You know, I would think you'd be a little more grateful for my help-"

"This isn't about you, Malfoy!"

"Oh," Malfoy said, standing up and throwing his out arms exaggeratedly. "So it's about you?"

"Yes, it's about me," Harry replied. "For once, this can be about me. You're right, Malfoy, I do know better than anyone else how it feels to be manipulated, and I'm sick of it. It's time I start taking things into my own hands."

"Isn't that what got you in trouble before?" Malfoy retorted smartly.

"Before I had another pair of hands to guide me, instead of control me?" Harry replied, gaze flickering to Severus. "Yes. But now I'm being given the opportunity to start doing this on my own, and I'll be damned if I turn it into a meaningless argument rather than an informational inquiry. And I hate to break it to you, Draco Malfoy, but if we win, you have nothing without me. You are in no position to dictate the terms of this discussion. Right now, you are depending on me and my goodwill, because I don't have to do a thing for you."

Severus was fighting hard against his urge to smile- after all, it would be a highly inappropriate time to praise his son…. But he was so… proud. For once, he'd shown an ounce of wit and taken the situation into his own hands without any flashy shows of bravery or impulsiveness. He'd been almost Slytherin about it. Granted, he hardly delivered this little speech with the same cool, contemptuous air with which Severus himself would have done, but he was recognizing that he had power, and he was wielding it. That was good enough for Severus.

"So," Harry said, easing the silence that had descended upon the room. "Why, specifically, do you have no choice?

For a moment, both Harry and Severus were doubtful as to whether or not Malfoy would reply. The expression on his face was one of pure indecision; they could easily see that he was battling with himself whether or not to answer the question he was being asked. This could be attributed to the fact that Severus was in the room, and Malfoy knew that if anyone could recognize a lie, it was his Head of House. It could also be attributed to the fact that once Malfoy started giving up information, he was essentially handing Harry the reigns on his life. Anything he said could be used against him.

Apparently, Malfoy decided that he'd rather give Harry the control… as opposed to Voldemort, who was likely to be far more brutal.

"The Dark Lord is preparing to take on an apprentice," he started resignedly, gazing down at the floor. "Why, I'm not sure, yet, but it has been made clear that all the Death Eaters' children are to begin training. If I had to wager a guess, I'd say it's so that he can ensure that he has our allegiances before we are adults, and able to make our own decisions. My father has been… particularly hard on me. I doubt he'd take it very well if I informed him of my reluctance to join."

"You couldn't turn against him?"

"He's my father, Potter!" Malfoy bit out. "He's always been hard on me, but I still- I still care for him. If you had to choose between your family and a group of prejudiced, self-righteous vigilantes who didn't give a damn about you, what would you do?"

"Doesn't sound like there's much difference between the two, if you just exchange vigilante for the word criminal!"

"Harry!" Severus admonished, gaining the boy's attention. "That was uncalled for."

"Yes, sir," Harry responded grudgingly, returning his attention to Malfoy.

"Listen," Malfoy said resentfully, rising from his chair. "I know you don't understand what it's like to be raised the way I was, but it's not so easily done to just turn on your family like that." He snapped his fingers to emphasize the point, and circled around Harry.

"I know you want my wholehearted devotion for your cause, Potter, but the hard fact is that you won't gain it. You're going to have to settle for what you get, or depend on someone else to give you inside information for you, because I'm not teaming up with Dumbledore or any other of you crusaders for the light. I just won't."

Harry knew he was being given an ultimatum, but he also knew he'd be a fool to turn it down. Severus had made it quite clear to him, earlier that day, that they needed to begin their potion as soon as possible. Draco Malfoy was currently the only person that could guarantee them those few ingredients needed from the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. If he turned the other boy down now, and needed him later, Malfoy would be the one with control of the situation, not Harry. He'd be forced to bargain with the Slytherin, and do whatever he could to get his help. It seemed simpler to agree now.

"Fine," Harry replied, crossing his arms. "But you're going to have to do a lot to earn my trust."

"I haven't done enough already?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head. "You'll have to start by getting these things-" he paused to pull the folded list of ingredients out of his pocket. Behind him, Severus rolled his eyes at the crumpled state of the parchment. "We need them relatively soon- as soon as possible. I will also expect you to report weekly to Sever- Professor Snape, to, umm-"

"Just report to me weekly, Mr. Malfoy, or whenever you receive valuable information," Severus spoke up, laughing inwardly at the ironic combination of Harry's authorative manner, but relative lack of finesse. "Harry, is there anything else you wish to ask Mr. Malfoy?"

"No," Harry replied. "For now."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"You're released, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said, nodding at the pale haired boy. "Be wary that curfew falls in half an hour's time; I advise you to be back at the Slytherin common room at that time."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy replied. He sounded disappointed, making Harry think Severus had knowingly put an end to whatever mischief Malfoy had planned to get up to this night.

Malfoy gave Severus a nod goodnight, and left, paying no further attention to Harry. Once he was gone, Harry made his way over to Severus' desk and slumped down into the chair.

"That went miserably," he commented, fingering the parchments on Severus' desk.

"I think you handled it quite well," Severus said, a faint smile playing around his lips. "For a first time interrogator, that is," he teased, cuffing a hand over Harry's shoulder and steering him upwards.

"You're just saying that," Harry complained, though he was surprised to hear the sullenness disappearing from his own voice. Apparently, Severus' words of praise were more uplifting than he would have thought.

"I'm not," Severus defended himself, walking with Harry to the door. "I'm sure," he said, softening his voice and turning Harry to look him in the eye, "that you will make a fine auror, when all of this is said and done."

Harry was stunned by the combination of the kind look on Severus' face and the gentle note of his voice. It was the most sincere he'd ever seen the man. "Thank you," he said softly, smiling.

Severus inclined his head to the side, and then opened the door. "Can I trust you to make it to your common room before curfew?"

"Yes," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Be sure you do," Severus advised, raising his eyebrows. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, sir."

xxx End Chapter xxx

Chapter 33

Rooibos and Pu'erh Tao Cha

xxx

Though Harry had faced many more formidable foes in the past, he couldn't help but to be a bit worried after watching Hufflepuff's Friday night Quidditch practice with Ron. Gryffindor had made some excellent additions to their team this year, yes, but the House of the Badger had made some considerably better ones.

Two sixth years that no one had ever seen play before were now in the beater's positions, and these two boys were far from weak. They worked in synchronization that rivaled even that of Fred and George Weasley, and they hit with the same precision that Slytherin House often depended on to defeat the other team. In addition to these two came a small second year girl, who, though shy and quiet looking at first, shone when she entered the field. She kept a level temper with her teammates, but as a seeker, seemed to be waging a war against the silver and gold snitch. She rode a well preserved Nimbus 2001, and while it paled in comparison to Harry's Firebolt, he worried that her small stature would still give her an advantage.

Always overlooked, no one suspected that Hufflepuff would be rising to become such a strong house. However, it seemed that the death of Cedric had spurred them forth to prove that their house was about much more than loyalty and kindness. The events of the previous year had allowed no house to shine, of course, but things were back to normal now, and competition (when it came to Quidditch) was fiercer than ever. They were certainly rising to meet the challenge.

"I'm not worried," Ron proclaimed boldly as they briskly walked back up the castle. "Their new additions beat ours, undeniably, but their keeper isn't that good."

"Well, I'd say that's a bit judgmental," Harry said, smiling. "Coming from you, that is, the world's greatest keeper."

"I'm not saying I'm the best," Ron countered defensively. "I'm just- well I am quite a bit better, yeah. But that's not the point; we've got a great trio of chasers, Harry."

"Yeah, but they've got two beaters that are going to make it extremely difficult for said trio," Harry objected. "And a seeker that might end the game before our chasers can do enough damage."

"You know what the best strategy is, then," Ron said, turning to Harry.

Harry nodded. "Get the snitch right away."

"Yeah, don't dawdle like you usually do," said a playful voice from behind. Harry and Ron turned around to find Hermione and Ginny heading towards them, laughing with each other.

"Where were you two?" Ron asked, looking back and forth between his sister and best friend, who exchanged a look.

"Maybe it's none of your business," Ginny replied haughtily, taking up stride with Harry and linking arms with him. Harry's eyes widened quickly as he looked down at their now joined arms, but Ginny didn't notice.

"Oh, hush up, Ginny, you'll make them think we were up to something," Hermione replied, looking around Harry to make eye contact with Ginny, who winked.

"What were you doing?" Harry asked. His interest was now piqued.

"Well," Ginny started casually, twirling her hair with her free hand. "We were just taking a walk, when we spied a very amusing sight. Imagine our surprise when we were circling the Quidditch stands while the Hufflepuffs practiced for the upcoming match, and we spotted two Gryffindor boys, covertly dressed in maroon and gold jumpers and sporting locks of raven and red."

"Honestly, you two, taking up the very same Slytherin tactics that you complained about for years," said Hermione, shaking her head.

"I think you've been spending too much time around Snape," Ginny said to Harry, laughing.

"Ah, and Mr. Weasley's excuse?" Harry drawled, raising his eyebrows in an uncanny likeness to his father, causing Ginny to burst into giggles.

"Oh, that was so good! Do another!"

From their other side, Ron and Hermione exchanged knowing looks.

xxx

Somehow, Severus was unsurprised to witness the shameless flirting of his son and one Miss Ginny Weasley as he watched the four Gryffindors return to the castle from the window in Professor McGonagall's office. She reminded him strikingly of Lily at that age; she had the same fiery temper and hair to match it. She wasn't a bad student, either. He supposed that being the only girl in her family made her eager to prove her ability to succeed, much as Lily's muggle heritage had inspired her to do.

Severus shook his head and checked the time. Minerva had requested that he join her in her office that afternoon, though he couldn't imagine why. He hadn't unjustly punished or failed any of her precious Gryffindor students as of late, and she wasn't normally the type to have one around for tea and a friendly chat… not that he would have enjoyed that. Conversation with the Head of Gryffindor was not one of Severus' favorite pastimes; while he was polite to the woman, he had never particularly liked being around his former professor.

"Excellent, Professor, you're already here," McGonagall said as she briskly entered her office. She wasted no time in taking a seat and inviting him to do the same.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Minerva?" Severus returned, inclining his head to the side. He was careful to keep the sneer out of his voice and off his face, but as usual, started by addressing her by her first name, just to remind her that they were colleagues now, not teacher and pupil.

"Well, I see no point in exchanging pointless pleasantries, as I know you so loathe doing, Severus, so I'll get straight to the point." McGonagall sat forward and neatly folded her hands on her desk. Severus inwardly commented that she did a very poor job of imitating the Headmaster and his gestures.

"I must confess to you, Severus, that I am curious about the surplus time you and Potter have been spending together as of late. The alibi of Occlumency lessons satisfied me for some time, but when Potter began asking for you in the middle of the night and disappearing to your rooms for entire nights… well, you can hardly blame me when I say I've become suspicious."

Severus sat rigidly in his chair, grinding his teeth irritably. How dare this woman imply such a sordid thing to him? Sure, he was a Death Eater, but he wasn't that twisted. "Have you spoken to the Headmaster about these… suspicions?" Severus asked, curling his lip.

"The Headmaster has indicated to me that there is nothing… inappropriate occurring between you and the boy," McGonagall confessed, nodding. Severus tetchily wondered to himself why she had bothered bringing it up, in that case.

"He has also indicated to me that if I wish to learn what has happened between you and the boy, that I am to ask one of you."

So, the Headmaster had to be given credit there, Severus thought to himself. At least he had finally seen fit to stay out of Severus' affairs. Of course, now he was left with this highly uncomfortable situation, but he preferred it to the alternative.

Severus inhaled deeply and rubbed the back of his neck, rising from his seat and moving slowly towards the window. "If you truly must know, Minerva," he began, his tone a mixture of weariness and aggravation. "Do you recall my failed marriage with Lily Evans?"

"I do," McGonagall returned stiffly, nodding. It was no secret that she had disapproved of the coupling; she had never liked, nor trusted, Severus, and Lily had been her star Gryffindor, not unlike Hermione Granger.

"It is widely believed that it ended because she was unfaithful to me, or as phrased by some, that she finally saw the light," Severus paused here, willing the malice out of his tone. It would do no good to lose his temper due to mistakes of the past. "Even I had believed this."

Severus turned to face McGonagall. "During the few weeks before term, I learned the true reason for our failure. Lily discovered that I'd taken the Dark Mark, and pregnant, decided that she would tell me it was James' child, to help them both escape what seemed to be a dark future. She lied. It wasn't James' child."

The color slowly drained from McGonagall's face, and Severus indulged in a smirk of satisfaction. Yes, Minerva,, he thought to himself, relishing in her shocked expression. You may pride yourself on being Harry Potter's Head of House, but I am his father. Are you glad you asked?

"I'm assuming this means you are the boy's...father," McGonagall said, recovering herself and adopting an evaluating expression.

"You assume correctly," Severus said, nodding, and biting back on the snide remarks that came to mind.

"The boy knows, then?" McGonagall questioned, making it sound more like a statement.

"He does."

"And how is he taking it?"

"Well, Albus and I hope the suicide attempts will desist soon, but one can never tell," Severus retorted smartly, narrowing his eyes and curling his lip.

"I should hope that was sarcasm," McGonagall said in relative admonishment, rising from her chair and placing her hands flat on her desk.

"You act as if it would be the end of the boy's life, Minerva."

"Well," McGonagall sniffed, crossing her arms. "I would like to believe that you could have a bit more sensitivity towards him, Severus. He took so much pride in being James Potter's son, and now that's been taken from him!"

"Yes, it must have been extremely upsetting to find out that the black-hearted git Professor Snape was his father, rather than the noble James Potter," Severus sneered, though he believed what he said. "I have been considerate enough, Minerva, and I believe he has moved past that small detail… though I fail to see how that is any of your concern."

"I am his Head of House, it's my responsibility to see that he's being treated well."

"Oh, and you've done such a wonderful job protecting him from the neglect and verbal abuse of his relatives these past 16 years!" Severus snapped, taking a step forward. "Admit it, Minerva. You don't think I'm capable of handling a child, and the last thing you or anyone else wants to see is the vanguard for the Light being steered towards darkness by the misbegotten Severus Snape!"

"Severus, I-"

"Do not try to deny it, Minerva," Severus growled, glaring heatedly down at her. "You've never liked nor trusted me. You've proven that today by admitting that you went to Albus Dumbledore with the belief that I was taking advantage of a young boy in my care."

"You would have done the same," McGonagall with forced calm, shaking her head.

"No, I would have had the decency to confront you or the student in question before slandering the name of a colleague to my employer," Snape hissed.

"My apologies, Severus," McGonagall responded tersely. "But we can't all be as honorable and dignified as you are."

"I've never claimed to be either one of those things," Severus replied. "However, I am amply perceptive- enough to act with a sense of decorum. But rest assured, I understand- your Gryffindor boldness spurs you to act quickly, rather than give thought to the repercussions of your actions, a trait that apparently doesn't diminish with age."

McGonagall looked as though she were about to retort angrily, but Severus had had enough.

"I thank you for your concern for Harry, Minerva," Severus said in mock graciousness, giving her an exaggerated bow of the head. "But I assure you, he is safe in my hands. Now, I believe this concludes our little meeting, so if you'll excuse me."

"I'm not sure we've found our conclusion, Severus," McGonagall objected, looking mildly offended.

"Oh, I'm quite sure we have." Severus gave her an ill-mannered smile and opened the door. "Harry normally tries to find his way down to my office on afternoons like this, and I'd hate to miss him."

He was deliberately angering her, and he knew it. He didn't normally use his relationship with Harry to goad people like this; he could imagine the boy would be quite upset with him if he found out that he had- but he couldn't resist. The look on her face as he alluded to their relationship was priceless. He found himself quite enjoying her reaction.

"After all," he continued, exiting into the corridor, "I have to make up for the fact that I am sadly not James Potter."

"No, you're not," McGonagall said icily, following him to the door. "And don't forget that. A biological relationship doesn't make one a father, I hope you realize."

"I quite understand that, Minerva," Severus replied easily. And it was the truth. He knew he had to atone for his previous treatment of the young man, and he knew he had to atone for the way he had treated the child's mother, and the fact that he hadn't been there for either one of them. He was determined to do so.

"Severus," McGonagall finally called, one last time, as he strode down the corridor. The pleading note in her voice made him reluctantly turn around, ready to receive her words. "Please treat him well. The child cannot handle many more disappointments. The wounds he has are far deeper than the surface."

Severus hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to reply. Taking a look around the corridor to check that they were alone, he decided to appease the woman. "And I intend to heal them," he stated simply. "Good day, Minerva."

And with that, he turned and strode towards his office, hoping that Harry would be there when he arrived.

xxx

Harry didn't disappoint. When Severus arrived at his office door, Harry was sitting cross legged in front of his door, munching contentedly on a biscuit. Severus rolled his eyes and wondered if he should first reprimand Harry for sitting on the dirty floor, or for munching on sweets not an hour before lunch. He decided against both.

"Comfortable?" He inquired, amused as Harry looked up at him and shrugged.

"Not particularly," Harry replied, getting up off the floor and dusting off his trousers. "But I figured you would be along soon, and I had biscuits to keep me busy, so I thought I'd wait."

Severus didn't know quite how to respond to this, so he settled for an amused, "Ah," and unlocked his office door.

"Allow me to gather some homework assignments that need grading, and then we'll have tea in my quarters," said Severus. "I generally prefer natural light to candlelight on days such as this."

"'Kay,", Harry agreed, spewing crumbs as he spoke. He looked sheepishly at the floor, and then at Severus, hoping he hadn't noticed. He swallowed the rest of his treat and then closed the door. "Do you want me to lock this, sir?"

"Do you know how?" Severus asked doubtfully, looking over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow at Harry. He wondered if the boy didn't think he would notice the biscuit crumbs trailing down the front of his shirt and littering the floor.

"Well, no," Harry replied, looking back at the door. "But you could teach me. Not so I could break in or anything!" he defended himself as Severus gave him another skeptical look. "Just, you said if I ever wanted to see you, I could come to your rooms, and what if I come through that door and need to lock it behind me?"

Severus shook his head and smiled lightly as he finished gathering the essays into his arms. "It doesn't need to be locked- I doubt any students will find their way into my office on such a day. Most generally avoid my area of the castle, and those who don't aren't of any concern."

"Your Slytherins, sir?"

"They know me too well to intrude," Severus said, opening the door leading to the corridor to his quarters, "And I'm alerted when someone enters my office. Oh yes, and I will charm it to open to you, if you'd like."

"Yes, then I won't have to sit in front of the door, dirtying up my clothes," Harry said, smiling. "I know that bothers you."

"No, by all means," Severus replied, waving his free hand. "If you'd like dirt and other bits of filth on your clothing, be my guest. I wouldn't want to oppress you and begrudge you the right to use the floor as a chair."

"Thank you," Harry laughed. "I appreciate that."

They reached Severus' door and after muttering the password, quickly entered so that Severus could set down the papers that were close to falling out of his arms.

"You know, you could have just used your wand and levitated those," Harry said thoughtfully, putting on a kettle of water.

"Just as you could use your wand and heat that," Severus retorted, indicating the kettle.

"I did use my wand," Harry replied, frowning at the pot.

"To warm the kettle, not the water inside. We'll still have to wait."

"I'm convinced that tea tastes better when you heat the water slowly," Harry said, giving Severus a look. "Just like in the muggle world; it tastes better if you use a stovetop to heat the water than it does if you just heat the water in the microwave."

"The what?" Severus asked, looking appalled.

"Never mind," Harry muttered, selecting a tin of peppermint tea.

"Did you just swear at me?" Severus probed, narrowing his eyes.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, laughing. "It's a- it's like a box, and you put things in it, and the light heats it up."

"How odd," Severus commented, settling himself in his favorite chair. He truthfully wasn't that interested in muggle appliances, but he knew he was entertaining Harry, and he found himself indulging in the small amount of happiness he could bring the boy simply by responding with the slightest interest.

"Do you want peppermint, lemon, or this one that I can't pronounce?" Harry asked from across the room.

"Does the one you can't pronounce begin with a P or an R?" Severus asked, shaking his head.

"Er- R" Harry responded, lifting the canister and squinting at the curvy scrawl. "The other one is mostly empty."

"I'll have that one, then," Severus said decidedly, marking a sloppily written essay with an automatic T. In the future, take care to ensure your essay's readability, Severus wrote in the side margin. You're hardly intelligent enough for me to give you benefit of the doubt.

Severus considered to himself that he was much better at being caustic when Harry wasn't around. He set aside the essay for further commentary later that evening.

"Out of curiosity," Severus started, looking around at Harry, "how did you think that tea was pronounced?"

"Er-" Harry muttered, looking down at the canister again. "Roo-boose," he pronounced slowly, eliciting a chocking sound from Severus. Harry narrowed his eyes. "Well, how is it pronounced, then?"

"It's Roo-ih-bus," Severus enunciated slowly, exaggerating the movements of his mouth. "Rooibos Chai, to be more specific."

"Well, I'm terribly sorry for not knowing my teas," Harry said, having the grace to feign a look of shame.

"Well, you'll learn if you're to take up residence with me," Severus promised him, raising an eyebrow. "Rooibos is one of those teas you should certainly be familiar with. It's a red tea, rich with antioxidants and low in tannin. It's also naturally decaffeinated, which is extremely convenient, considering the trouble I already have sleeping."

"That is very fascinating," Harry said politely, if not a touch mockingly. Severus glared at him, but said nothing more. Harry was quite relieved; he hardly cared about tea, especially when Severus made it sound more like a complex potion than a relaxing drink.

Harry poured the tea and turned back to him, only to find that he was still fixing him with an unsettling, yet somewhat expectant, glare.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to ask about the other tea?"

"Fine," Harry sighed. "How is the other pronounced?"

"That is Pu'erh Tuo Cha," Severus said, looking self satisfied. "It is a Chinese tea of the Oolong grouping; it's not widely known, nor enjoyed. However, there is a certain delicacy to a tea which must be so methodically prepared-"

"Like a potion," said Harry.

"A bit like a potion, yes," Severus agreed, nodding his head once to the side.

"What does it taste like?" Harry asked. He could detect a hint of cinnamon and ginger in the Rooibos tea Severus was sipping, but the leaves in the other canister had held a very unique scent, one Harry didn't recall having experienced before.

"I doubt you would like it," Severus said. "It has a rich, earthy flavor; more so than any other tea, it has the essence of the soil in which it was grown. It also improves with age, like wine, which I find to be a particularly interesting property."

"You would," Harry commented, laughing a little.

"I would what?"

"Find an interesting property in tea… I don't know. Do you relate everything to potions?"

"No."

Harry laughed again. There was a long, comfortable silence, in which the only sounds where Harry's small sighs and the angry scratching of Severus' quill upon the essays of unwitting young students.

"You are aware that next weekend, there is a Hogsmeade trip scheduled," Severus said after some time, addressing Harry.

"Umm, yeah," Harry said unsurely, not knowing where this was headed.

"I think it would be unwise for you to attend," Severus said. The warning note in his voice told Harry that far from a request, this was a command.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, unwilling to start an argument he was sure to lose. Oddly, it felt fitting… he had often wished someone would tell him to make good choices, so that he wouldn't have to make them voluntarily. It was much easier to resist temptation when he knew he had someone to answer to, and honestly, he didn't think it was a good idea either.

"Not only will Voldemort be ten times more fervent in his pursuit of you, now that he knows he'd be killing two birds with one proverbial stone, but also, we have yet to deal with your display of disobedience."

Harry groaned loudly. "That was weeks ago..."

"It was one week ago, and I do not forget," Severus replied.

"Well, no use in delaying the inevitable," Harry replied grudgingly, turning around. "What'll it be? The rack or the shackles?"

"Don't tempt me," Severus growled, narrowing his eyes.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"Yes, you seem it," Severus responded, caustically.

"Well, have you decided my sentence?"

"Why are you so eager to be punished?"

"I just don't like worrying about it," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "And I'm not new to discipline."

"Ah, yes," Severus said, nodding. "Those relatives of yours. Well, I assure you I will neither starve you nor lock you in any confined spaces," he said darkly, his expression twisted into one of revulsion. "And believe me; I will have a few words to say to those muggles about their neglect and borderline abuse of you in past years, once the opportunity presents itself."

Harry barely had the time to feel grateful towards his father before he continued, "No, the punishment I've thought up is much more creative in nature, and a bit more humane." He paused to smile forebodingly before continuing. "You will not be allowed to leave the castle grounds or my home until Boxing Day, and you will, over the holiday, construct a series of three essays for me. Each will be two feet in length, and touch on the topics of conduct, consequences, and choosing better courses of action. Your prompts will, of course, be more specific, but you may wait until the Holiday to find out exactly what they are."

"Why?"

"Because I want them done when I know you won't have the opportunity for outside help."

Harry didn't respond after that, willing the tension in the room to die down before he approached the next topic of conversation.

"So," Harry awkwardly said several moments later, as he set the tea down on the low table and took a seat on the couch. "We have a match against Hufflepuff this weekend," he offered, hoping Severus would offer to come without Harry having to ask.

"I'm aware," Severus replied, purposely keeping his eyes trained on the papers in front of him. He was curious to see whether or not Harry really wanted him there; surely, if he did, he would ask. He didn't want to intrude on Harry's life- he'd hardly earned the right, and wasn't quite sure how to behave as a parent attending a child's Quidditch match. He knew he couldn't bring himself to cheer and wave a little Gryffindor banner in a parody of support.

"I- er- I know your House isn't playing…" Harry started, hoping Severus would use his sharp intellect to guess where this was heading and answer the unasked question.

"Keen observation," Severus muttered, raising an eyebrow. He heard Harry swallow, and realized how uncomfortable he was making the boy. For some inexplicable reason, he was enjoying it. Let the boy have a taste of how it felt to charge past the line between familiar territory and uncertain association. It might remind him of how difficult it was for Severus to know how to behave at times.

"I- willyoucome?" Harry blurted out in a rush, color rising in his cheeks despite his effort to suppress it.

Severus slowly lifted his eyes from his work and looked at Harry with an innocent, unwitting expression. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," Harry mumbled, staring down into his tea.

Severus felt an odd mix of guilt and amusement at Harry's embarrassment. "No, I'm afraid I didn't. These essays are quite captivating; you must realize my attention is divided."

There was a playful smirk twisting Severus' lips, making Harry realize that the man knew exactly what was going on, and had for some while. The realization that Severus was purposely drawing this out of him put him at ease somewhat; it meant he wanted Harry to ask him. He supposed that if he were in Severus' position, he'd feel the same way.

Harry relaxed his shoulders and took a breath, before saying with more security, "I'd like it if you came."

Severus rewarded him with a softened, appreciative gaze, but responded, "You realize I have absolutely no idea how to cheer or encourage one during a Quidditch match."

"I understand that," Harry said, nodding. "I'd just like if you came… it would be enough, if you came."

"Then you may be assured that I will be present," Severus said softly, giving him a gracious nod.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly. "Should I leave you to your work?"

"Actually," Severus said, in an amused tone indicating to Harry that he probably wouldn't be pleased with what was said next. "I believe you have a Potions essay due on Tuesday."

"Oh," Harry said, looking towards the Potions books Severus had gestured to. "Well, I can do that later this weekend-"

"I think not," Severus said incredulously, raising his eyebrows. "Assuming you win the Quidditch match tomorrow, you'll most likely spend all of Saturday night celebrating, and basking in your glory on Sunday. Don't deny it!" he said, raising a finger as Harry opened his mouth to argue.

"That will leave Monday night for you to spend an incredibly long time procrastinating, until finally, at an hour during which you should be getting to bed, Mr. Weasley and you will seek the help of one Hermione Granger, who will grudgingly assist you. You will then spend the entire next day falling asleep in your classes due to your finishing the essay at three A.M. If you think I will allow that to happen, you are sadly mistaken. Get to work," he finished threateningly, pointing towards the books. At Harry's hesitation, he rolled his eyes and raised his voice to a much more dangerous, "Now!"

Harry quickly complied, rising and fetching the books along with a scroll of unused parchment and some quills. He couldn't help but wonder to himself just how Severus had managed to figure out his homework routine.

"And Harry," Severus called, causing the boy to jump and quickly turn around. "If you finish while you're here…" he said, considering the matter even as he spoke. "I may be willing read it over and give you a few suggestions."

"Er- thank you, sir," Harry said, unable to hide his shock at this rather kind offer.

Severus shrugged dismissively.

"It's not as if you wouldn't ask Miss Granger to do it anyways."

At the amused but knowing look in Severus' sideways glance, Harry smiled and turned back to his work. It certainly was eerie; the man's knowledge knew no boundaries.

xxx

Harry had held an impromptu practice the night before, but he wasn't at all sure it would help. To his chagrin, he had found that his team had become quite confident in themselves, and when practice didn't go well, they shrugged it off and reasoned that adrenaline would win them the match the next day.

So, here Harry was standing, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, with everyone watching, worried out of his mind that their skills wouldn't compare to Hufflepuff's. His strategy was simple: catch the snitch as soon as possible and hope Ron's keeping skills didn't fail.

It was an awful day for Quidditch, Harry reflected as he waited for Madame Hooch to finish checking the balls for any hexes or curses. The first snow of the season hadn't come yet, but it was cold enough that Harry wouldn't have been surprised if a full blown blizzard hit. He could only imagine how much further the temperatures would drop once he increased altitude. He absentmindedly pulled his worn gloves to fit more snuggly on his hands, while pondering how the use of a warming charm on the handle of his broom might affect its flying ability. He looked up to where Snape was seated in the stands and made note to ask him after the match.

xxx

Severus had never minded attending Quidditch matches before; as he'd normally only attended those of his own house, and the ones at the very end of the season, he hadn't been expected to sit with those supporting Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Now, however, he found himself unhappily sandwiched between Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and worst of all, Hagrid.

He had, of course, attempted to resist, but they would have none of it. Minerva seemed to have softened considerably after their last encounter. Any semblance of ill will she may have had before had disappeared; though she had appeared wary when he'd first appeared, she'd warmed substantially when Severus had explained that he'd come to support his son. Pleased by this, she and Hagrid had all but dragged him to their preferred seats, followed by a chuckling Headmaster.

Even from his high seat in the stands, Severus could see the anxiety on Harry's face. He hadn't confessed his apprehension the previous day, when they'd discussed the Hufflepuff team, but Harry's nervous habits of twisting his sleeve and sighing more than necessary gave him away. Of course, Severus had heard Professor Sprout bragging quite a bit about her team's improvements, but he hadn't shared that with Harry. He'd listened patiently as Harry described all his best strategies, and though he didn't offer any better ones, he'd helped him rule out those that seemed least likely to work. He hoped he'd see that pay off today.

"It's a rather cold day for a Quidditch match," McGonagall commented from beside Severus, rubbing her hands together and casting a warming spell over her cloak.

Severus nodded. "Yes, one of the unfortunate things about Quidditch is that its range of variables exceeds strength of the players and quality of brooms," he agreed. "But I've never seen the boy fail due to harsh conditions, I'll give him that. No doubt he'll land himself in the hospital wing if necessary, but he'll do what he must."

Their conversation paused for a moment as the whistle was blown and the brooms rose into the air. They watched for a short while as the Quaffle was passed back and forth between the Gryffindor chasers, before being purposely intercepted by one of the Hufflepuff beaters. Harry sat above, scanning the skies intently.

"Why, Severus, if I didn't know better, I'd say that's a touch of pride I hear in your voice," Minerva replied, barely concealing a smile.

"Well," Severus said quietly, looking down. "I am proud."

"Why do you sound ashamed of it?"

Severus' expression became a pensive frown, and he shifted his jaw thoughtfully. Being a private person, he resented the intrusive and analytical nature of McGonagall's question. He felt compelled to answer, however, out of some (however grudging) need to smooth over their argument from the days prior. "I suppose," Severus said slowly, "it reflects how wrong I may have been about the boy. For five years I saw what I wanted to see, not what was… for all the faults the boy has, his motivations certainly are not what they appeared to be."

"He has Lily's ability to forgive," Minerva commented, eyes trained on Ron as he prepared to block a goal. "Everyone deserves the chance to be forgiven, Severus. Even you."

Severus snorted at the audacity of her statement, and Minerva allowed a full smile to show; it was incalculable whether it was in response to Weasley's successful block of the Quaffle or to Severus' ever so quaint expression of amusement.

"Leave it to a Gryffindor to get sentimental in the middle of a Quidditch match," Severus quipped sardonically, glancing sideways at her through narrowed eyes.

"Speaking of which," Minerva said once the Quaffle had reached midfield again. "I should apologize for my behavior yesterday."

Yes, you should, Severus thought to himself, but he didn't say as much.

"I was… I suppose I was out of line. I-" she paused for a moment, and then looked at him, eyebrow raised. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

The corners of Severus' mouth twitched upward as he shot her a sideways glance and shook his head.

"I'd expected as much," she said, nodding. "I can see you've taken a vested interest in Harry's life, Severus. I can't tell you how long I've wished someone would. I, of course, have tried to keep an eye on him, but I believe it's very different from the benefit he receives from having you as a… as a father. I must say, this is the longest I've ever seen him go without getting into some sort of trouble."

"Minerva, last week he joined Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy, left the grounds unaccompanied by an adult, traveled to another town, and went into a place where he knew a group of Death Eaters to be gathered. Now please, if you don't consider that some sort of trouble, give me your reasons so I may revoke the punishment I have given him."

Strangely, this drew a laugh from her. "Well, I suppose you have a point," Minerva admitted, inclining her head. "But I expect that from him, by now. I was speaking of the fact that he has had all of his homework turned in, hasn't received a detention since the start of the year, and his grades have even improved. He must care for your approval, Severus. I can see no other explanation for these improvements. Having someone to answer to has done him some good."

For a long time, they watched the match in relative silence. Severus hadn't realized how well Harry had been doing, if truth were told. He'd never followed the boy's academic successes or failures before now, so he hadn't realized there had been an improvement. He'd always figured he was the only one to give detentions to the boy-who-lived, but from the sound of it, this wasn't true. Maybe he was doing something right after all.

"What was your punishment for him, by the way?" Minerva asked as Gryffindor blocked another goal. So far, neither team had managed to score any points; Harry was still circling the field, watching for a glint of gold and silver.

"He's to stay on the castle grounds, and during the Holidays my home, until Boxing day."

"Not a terrible sentence," Minerva commented, looking surprised.

"Well, I thought he'd like to spend Boxing Day with the Weasleys, and I'm not determined to make this Holiday like the others he's had," Severus responded, before allowing himself a half smile. "Besides, I've specified that over the Holidays he shall have three essays to complete, two feet in length."

Minerva laughed. "Leave it to you to give him one of his least favorite things to do as punishment."

"That is the point."

"How did he react?"

Severus paused for a moment. "He didn't."

"Surprising," Minerva said.

"Considering the punishments he's received in the past, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest." Severus said, shaking his head. "But that's a topic best left untouched, if I'm to congratulate my son on his victory a short while from now," he said, pointing to the sky. "I do believe the boy has sighted the snitch."

xxx

Harry was beginning to think this match would last for hours when he finally saw it. His reaction was the same as always; a small part of his heart leapt into his throat, quickening its pace as adrenaline pounded its way through his system. He threw a quick glance at the other seeker, assessing whether or not she had seen it. She was still circling, but her speed might win out if she realized what Harry was on to; she was closer to the snitch.

Pulling up on the handle of his broom, Harry accelerated upward, shooting into the mass of clouds hovering over the Quidditch pitch. Before long, he could hear her close behind, gaining speed. She sped past him with ease; his estimation that her small stature would push her to higher speeds had been correct.

Losing her in the whitish haze, Harry took a deep dive down to the clearer area of the skies. Arriving there, he was elated to find it hadn't zoomed off; the snitch hung, glinting and glittering like a pretty, elusive little bird… right next to the stands where Dumbledore, McGonagall, and most importantly, his father, were all seated.

A smile illuminating his face, he took off in a moment of quick decision. He could hear the girl behind him, but he would get there first. If the snitch had been hovering anywhere else around the field, he might not have been so determined, but for a very viable reason indeed, he felt he had to succeed now. He would not fail; this game was his for the taking, and his father would be right there to witness it. Ever since he'd found out his father had had a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a boy, he'd always played with the subconscious desire that his father could be there to witness it; he'd always wished someone would be there to be proud, friends and teachers aside. He'd always denied this feeling because it had seemed selfish; he had so many people to admire him, and yet he yearned for the attention of only one.

Still, now that he had that chance, he couldn't pass it up. Who his father was made no difference; it only mattered that his father was here.

He was close now; a mere fifteen meters, if he had to judge.

Not that the determinedly evasive snitch would allow him such an easy victory.

As if it had eyes and could see Harry approaching, it zipped around to the other side of the stand. Thinking quickly, Harry hastily changed direction with his broom and aimed to meet it around the other side. Years of experience were apparently on his side, as he was not disappointed. The snitch discontinued its 360 loop around the stand and took an upwards turn; Harry followed at an almost frighteningly vertical incline, only to reach the top of the stand and head down again.

If Harry had ever had any desire to visit a muggle theme park and ride a roller coaster, that urge quickly saw itself out of Harry's head as he flew over that stand and straight down its front. Not for the first time, he had to choose whether colliding with the ground was a fair price to pay for catching the snitch, and not for the first time, he decided it was.

The other seeker was diving, attempting to reach the ground before he did, but he was too close. He already had the angle and acceleration on his side, and was hurdling towards the ground at a much faster rate.

Almost there, Harry kept one hand steady on his broom, ready to pull up as soon as he had the snitch; his other hand he extended, preparing to catch it. He wasn't far from hitting the green pitch at full speed- he could tell it was risky by the shocked gasps coming from the crowd as the other seeker pulled out her dive and he continued. He didn't care, for within a moment, he'd captured it; the snitch was his.

Seconds from colliding with the hard ground, he tugged his broom upwards and rose into the air, the little ball held high and tight in his hand. He threw a fist into the air in victory and got ready to circle the pitch.

Before he did, he looked at Severus.

"Well done," the man mouthed, allowing a smile to grace his face, if only for a second. Harry broke out into a wide, toothy grin, nodded his thanks, and joined his teammates in the victory lap.

xxx

Harry dressed as quickly as possible after the match. He wanted to see Severus before he headed back to Gryffindor Tower, which wasn't turning out to be easy with all the back pats and words of praise his fellow teammates were still bestowing upon him. He wasn't quite sure why they were making a bigger deal out of this win than they had the others; he wondered if it was because he was the only one to score any points.

The game hadn't been dragged out too late into the evening, so Harry figured he might be able to stall for about an hour before joining the busy common room festivities.

Severus was just joining Dumbledore and McGonagall, having finally gathered the last of his Slytherins and sent them off to the castle. Harry pushed through the crowd, stopping a few times to accept compliments from other classmates. Finally, he found his way to the rear and found himself standing in front of the three professors, who looked at him expectantly.

Suddenly, Harry realized he had planned everything up to the part where he was supposed to talk. Now he was drawing a blank.

"Erm… hello," he improvised lamely.

Severus quirked half his mouth into a smile. Harry thought to himself that it still looked like a smirk. "Impressive," Severus said dryly, knowing Harry wouldn't be able to figure out whether he meant the performance or his sudden lack of words.

"Er- thanks," Harry said, looking off to the side. He was acutely aware of the lingering presence of the other two professors. "Thanks for coming."

Feeling rather awkward in front of his colleague and superior, he gave them a nod of departure and steered Harry forward. "It was my pleasure," he intoned, once they were out of hearing range.

Harry figured that was the extent of praise he was going to receive. Still, it was sufficient.

Harry scratched his head and started uneasily, "So, I was thinking about Hogsmeade-"

"We already discussed this," Severus said in a low voice, quick to put an end to any ideas Harry might have about getting off his punishment.

"Yes, I know," Harry said. "But-"

Gods, the boy could be impertinent. Severus fixed him with a stern glare, but Harry continued.

"It's just, if I don't go to Hogsmeade, I can't see how I'm going to get gifts for everyone for Christmas," Harry explained, attempting to sound very rational. "I mean, I agree with your punishment and everything-"

"Oh, do you?" Severus asked, turning to the boy and raising his eyebrows in slight surprise.

"Well, yeah," Harry responded dimly, shrugging his shoulders. He'd honestly seen much worse punishments, and he would take being confined to the castle and Severus' house over the Dursleys or the true wrath of Severus' temper any day.

"Well, perhaps we can arrange a trip to Hogsmeade during the week," Severus said, grudgingly softened by Harry's acceptance of his punishment. He hadn't reacted strongly at the time, but Severus had suspected that over time, his resentment would grow into an angry grudge. "I may be able to escort you on Wednesday-"

"I'd like that," Harry said uneasily, "but how can I get your gift if you're with me?"

Taken aback for a moment, Severus muttered, "You needn't get me anything."

"I want to," Harry said quickly, and before Severus could object further, rushed into an explanation. "I would feel rather awkward and ungrateful staying in your home and not even bothering to get you anything for Christmas. What kind of person do you take me for?"

Severus ignored his last question. "It's not simply my home," he said reprovingly. "It's both of ours. It's… it's the one you would have grown up in, had Lily and I…" he broke off there, looking off to the side.

Harry saved him the disgrace of having to finish that sentence. "You lived there together?"

"Yes," Severus responded. "I doubt you'll be surprised, when you see it. She had a very different… style, than I myself have. The interior furnishings are anything but a result of my own work."

"Is that why you haven't been there in so long?" Harry asked, hoping he wasn't pushing some invisible boundary.

"Yes," Severus replied, nodding. "But, like I said before, it would be foolish to stay anywhere Voldemort might suspect."

"You don't think he'll come after us over the Holiday, do you?"

"The house is under the protection of the Fidelus charm," Severus said, shaking his head. "Dumbledore is my secret-keeper; even if he found out we'd left Hogwarts, we'll be nearly untouchable. The plan, however, is to make him believe we are staying here."

"How?" Harry asked.

"Just leave that to me," Severus said. "And keep your mind occluded."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

Severus privately thought that it might be time to put a stop to all the same formalities he'd expected of Harry when he was merely the boy's teacher, but he didn't say as much. There would be a better time and place for that.

"So… maybe Professor Dumbledore could take me, then?" Harry tried again.

"Take you… ah, Hogsmeade," Severus remembered, before smirking and shaking his head. "I think not. You may go to Hogsmeade, but I fear the Headmaster will make it far more enjoyable than a necessary shopping trip need be. No… I will speak to Professor McGonagall, and see what time she has available."

"You're awful," Harry muttered, though he was only half serious.

"And you're entirely too cheeky for your own good!"

Harry ducked before he could get hit over the back of the head.

xxx

It was Harry's personal opinion that this particular celebration was lasting far too late into the night. When Fred and George had been at Hogwarts, the parties had been far more entertaining. Now, however, they just didn't have the same kick.

As Hermione shared this opinion, the two decided they would escape the noise and head up to the boys' dormitory for some peace and quiet. Harry tried with great difficulty to ignore the whoops and whistles that followed as they ascended the stairs. Hermione, however, turned around and promptly quieted the jeers with a few well chosen words.

"Have I ever told you how much I admire you, Hermione?" Harry asked as she closed the door behind them and cast a spell to block the outside noise.

"Not nearly often enough," she quipped, throwing herself onto the bed across from him. "I can't begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to this Holiday," she muttered. "I'm so tired of these insufferable… children."

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked uneasily. The last place he wanted to be when Hermione Granger went on a rant was sitting across from her.

"Oh fine, fine," Hermione said, sitting up and pushing a wayward curl out of her face. "I hope you're not still angry at me for last weekend," she said, frowning worriedly. "I've been thinking about it all week, and-"

"No, you were right," Harry said, shrugging. "I was being an idiot… as usual. Speaking of idiots… are you and Ron alright?"

"Fine, why do you ask?" Hermione said all too casually, making Harry narrow his eyes.

"You didn't speak to him once down there," Harry said, giving her a knowing look.

"Well, it's not my fault he's too absorbed in telling everyone about his amazing Keeping skills to pay me any attention," Hermione said haughtily, rolling her eyes.

"He's just used to having to show off to get any attention, with brothers like the ones he's got," Harry reasoned, trying to defend his other friend.

"Well why should attention matter so much? None of those people really care about him. Not the way we do."

Harry sighed and nodded, not willing to get into this discussion. He knew she would just repeat it all to Ginny, anyways. Hardly seemed to matter if he sympathized with her; he wasn't very good at that sort of thing.

"Listen, Hermione- you're smart. Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away," Hermione said, nodding.

"I have to get Severus a Christmas present… but what on earth do you get someone like him?"

Hermione appeared to think deeply for a moment. "Well," she said slowly, getting up to pace the room. "It can't be something too extravagant, not at this point, anyways. You don't want it to appear as though you think money and glamour matter more than the thought behind it, because you've no idea what he's likely to get you."

"Oh, I don't think he'll get me anything," Harry said, half laughing. "Or at least, I don't expect him to."

"I doubt he'd invite you for Christmas and then refuse to give you a gift," Hermione said gently, smiling at him. "What does he like?"

"I don't know," Harry said; if a touch of desperation found its way into his expression, he hadn't meant it to. "I think he's got just about every book on the planet, his potions ingredients are always stocked-"

"Oh, Harry, you can't get him something for school. Potions ingredients, I ask you," she muttered to herself. "Listen, since you have no prior knowledge of what he's interested in, just make it something personal. Something small, but something personal. It shouldn't be hard to find that."

"Find what?" Harry was practically whining now.

"What I just said- something personal. Oh, this is just useless," she complained, sitting down on the bed again. "You have my advice, but then, I've never bought for Professor Snape before. However, I'm sure there's someone who has."

"Who?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore, of course."

xxx

Harry counted himself very fortunate to have such loyal friends. Upon learning that Harry would not be allowed to attend the Hogsmeade trip, Ron and Hermione had agreed to come back that afternoon, after they had finished their shopping.

Of course, Harry hadn't counted on Ginny, Luna, and Neville following the two back, but he wasn't upset that they did. Harry had an inkling that Severus would be somewhat put off by this fact, but he wasn't about to say anything. Severus had said he couldn't go to Hogsmeade; he'd said nothing about friends bringing Hogsmeade to Harry.

The group had shown up with a plethora of varied sweets from Honeydukes and little trinkets from Zonko's Joke Shop. They had the common room to themselves, and were quite content once they'd pulled six of the nicest chairs over to the table on which they'd spread their treats.

"If Snape could see you now," Ron laughed as Harry tilted his head back to catch a chocolate bean in his mouth.

"I'm rather glad he can't," Harry said, chewing. "This might not be completely against the rules, but I don't think he'd be pleased."

"And yet you do it," Hermione said, shaking her head and leaning forward to sort through the pile.

"Nonsense," Ginny said in Harry's defense. "What do you expect him to do, turn us all away?" She lowered her voice to a less feminine pitch and mockingly imitated him. "'Sorry, everyone, it wouldn't be a punishment if I had fun anyways. Take your sweets and go.'" she laughed and resumed her normal tone. "It wouldn't be natural."

"Well, I'm not trying to complain," Hermione said. "It's nice to actually spend some time with you, Harry, other than at dinner or in the library."

"Well, if you'd come down and watch us during Quidditch practice-" Ron started, only to be cut off by a sharp kick in the shin from his little sister. He let out a little yell and called her a rather nasty name, but didn't finish his sentence.

"So many things have changed," Hermione sighed, sitting back in her chair.

"Yeah, I'd give anything to go back to first year," Neville commented, nodding.

Luna gave him an odd look, narrowing her usually wide, bulgy eyes. "Why?"

"Things were simpler then," Neville said, shrugging.

"Voldemort hadn't returned," Ron said in way of agreement.

Harry shook his head. "He was always going to."

"But, maybe-"

"No," Ginny spoke up. "Harry's right. He was always going to return; he would have kept trying, no matter what, until he found a way. There would be no point in going back… we would just be delaying the inevitable."

It remained unsaid that having hosted Riddle in her mind, she would be one to know.

"Do you think we'll ever… you know, defeat him?" Neville asked.

Silence fell. Harry was the first to break it. "We haven't got much choice… it's him or us. Him or me."

"No, Harry, not just you and him. We can all work together-"

"That's just it," Harry said, looking up. "It's not. It's going to come down to the two of us, and only one can win."

"How could you possibly know that?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Because that's what was in the prophecy."

All eyes turned to Neville. How he had known this, Harry couldn't quite figure out. He couldn't remember telling him.

"Did Dumbledore tell you too?" Harry asked, and received a nod. "When?"

"Earlier this year…" he said uneasily, shifting in his seat. "Said… he said it was time."

"Why would he tell you now, of all times?" Hermione asked.

"Tell what?" Ron inquired blankly, looking back and forth between them. Hermione gave him a small smile and shook her head.

"It could have been me or Harry," Neville said. "One of us would have had to battle You-Know-Who… but he chose Harry."

"Chose?" Ron repeated.

Harry pointed to his scar. He noticed, as he did, that his hand was shaking. He knew he was going to have to do something about these nerves… every time he thought about what he was going to have to do, his stomach roiled and pitched, and his eyes threatened to see only black. It was happening even now, even as he sat in the middle of all his friends… the surreal fact was that someday soon, he would have to battle the Dark Lord Voldemort, and there was a good possibility that he wouldn't be the one to walk away. "The prophecy could have applied to either Neville or me. He chose… well, you know who he chose…" Harry said shakily, running a hand over his marked forehead. "In doing so, and failing, he marked me as his equal. The prophecy goes on to state that only one of us can live in the end… either must die at the hand of the other."

He'd committed this to memory. He'd gone over it so many times, trying in vain to find some flaw in its phrasing, something that gave it a different meaning. He knew he wouldn't feel guilty about killing him, in the end, but he would be lying to himself if he tried to deny that he was scared. Anyone in his right mind would be.

"That's why it's so vital that we finish this potion before he realizes what we're doing," Hermione said thoughtfully, piecing it all together.

Harry nodded, staring with wide, unfixed eyes at the floor. "Exactly."

"You know we're still going to help," Ginny said gently, hesitantly resting a hand on Harry's arm.

"Mhmm," Luna murmured in agreement, nodding. "We'll do all we can. With our combined knowledge, we can create all sorts of unexpected defenses." She thought for a moment, and said, "For example, I've heard there's a spell that allows you to summon Nortrixes to protect fortresses- if the final battle were to take place at Hogwarts, I'm sure we could do that. And I'll ask my dad, I'm sure he can give us more suggestions, as well."

No one even bothered to ask what a Nortrix was.

Ginny suppressed a giggle as Harry managed a tight smile and said, "Thanks, Luna."

"What else can we do, Harry?" Hermione asked. He only noticed then that her amber eyes were close to tears.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I used to think that at a time like this, I would know exactly what needed to be done… but I don't. There's so much to do, I don't even know where to begin. I'm not nearly prepared enough to battle Voldemort."

"I'm sure having Snape as a father will do you a world of good," Neville said, eyes widened. "He's got to know a thing or two about dueling."

"I'd imagine so," Harry said, trying not to laugh at the nervous look that appeared on Neville's face at the mere mention of his father.

"Well, don't hesitate to tell us when you do know, Harry," Hermione said seriously, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. "Talk to the Professor, and see what he thinks… we should start preparing."

"Do you really think it'll be like… a battle?" Ron asked, his mouth held slightly agape at the notion.

"Ron… I think it'll be closer to war," Harry said, lowering his brow. "When the time finally comes… this is going to be so much more than we've ever dealt with. I can't even…"

"We'll be ready," Neville said determinedly. "We'll be ready."

xxx

It was far too late for someone to be knocking on his door. No. No one was knocking on his door- he would just turn over, bury his head in his pillows, and fall back asleep, and the obnoxious knocking would stop.

And again it came.

Fine. It wasn't a figment of his imagination, nor was it a part of a dream. Severus rolled out of bed unceremoniously; it was quite a departure from his usually graceful form. He threw on a robe, pulled on some socks, and stalked grumpily out of his room and towards his door.

He usually didn't sleep much, admittedly, but every now and again, it all caught up to him. He'd had a long week, and had spent a majority of the day locked in a room filled with the warm steam and pungent fumes emitted from the various potions brewing. To say the least, such conditions hadn't exactly been energizing.

Severus cracked the door open and peered out into the darkness. He didn't see anything, but within moments, two familiar green eyes were staring back at him.

"Hi," Harry said breathlessly, looking around. "I saw Filch a few corridors back, can I come in before he catches me?"

"I suppose," Severus said, standing back and rolling his eyes. "But thirty points from Gryffindor for wandering the corridors late at night. You don't look incredibly distressed; I'm guessing this could have waited until tomorrow."

"Yes, but I needed to talk about it now," Harry said. "I talked to my friends, but I… I don't know." He shifted uncomfortably. "Wasn't the same," he muttered, almost inaudibly.

Severus nodded. "Admissible," was all he said.

Harry sat down on the couch and curled his knees up to his chest. He didn't grasp them, just rested his head on them; Severus could tell he'd crawled out of bed, unable to sleep well.

"You're worried," Severus observed, seating himself in the chair across from Harry, and noticing that they usually took the same positions when down here.

"Yeah," Harry admitted awkwardly, twisting his hands nervously. He still wasn't accustomed to coming to this man for any sort of emotional support or advice… he was new to this, as was his father.

"May I ask why?" Severus uneasily inquired, wondering why a simple question was so difficult for him to ask.

Harry hesitated for a moment, trying to appear deep in thought. He always tried to seem so sure of himself: adult, mature, and ready to handle whatever was thrown at him. To admit his fear about something that was beyond his control, and ultimately, inevitable, seemed silly. Why worry about something that was bound to happen anyways? What did it accomplish to admit his weaknesses?

"Do you know about the prophecy?" Harry finally asked, frowning deeply at his internal insecurities. Such feelings seemed unnecessary.

"I do," Severus said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Not word for word, but I understand what it requires."

Harry didn't say anything. Severus considered the boy, studying his facial expressions. He had never seen him look so unsure of himself; normally, the boy was almost confident to the point of obnoxiousness, or arrogance, as Severus had once believed. Coming to know him, he'd begun to think of it as strength… it was gratifying to see the boy display some humanity in this aspect- on this topic. After all, if he saw himself as invincible, it was likely more detrimental than any fear he could possess. Apparently, Severus had to tell him he thought as much.

"You realize, Harry," he said gently, "that no one expects you to be brave all the time. Grown men have been called valiant for displaying half the amount of strength you have, bearing such a burden at so young an age. You would do well to remember that the prophecy dictates only what is to happen, not how you feel about it."

Harry nodded, slightly reassured, but his fear didn't subside.

"Have you ever considered what it really means, though?" Harry asked, unfolding his legs and sitting forward on the dark couch.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking," Severus admitted.

"If I can't defeat the most powerful dark wizard in existence… then nothing else matters. Have you ever considered that?" He paused, waiting for a response. He received nothing; Severus held his gaze steady and waited for him to continue. "I have. I can't run and I can't hide, because everything depends on my defeating him."

Harry's tone was the most bitter Severus had ever heard it; the look on his face was dark, far away, and most frighteningly, familiar to the Potions Master.

"You're very wrong," Severus said, shaking his head.

Harry's head snapped in Severus direction, a doubtful, searching look on his face.

"You can run. You can hide. I would help you do it, if you really wanted to. But you see," Severus said, leaning forward. "That would be taking the coward's way out. It would be just as easy for you to become a different person and join his side… I know that's not what you want."

"But… don't you ever think that it's impossible?"

"I have, in the past," Severus said. "In your earlier years, you didn't show any extraordinary strength, in my opinion, and the luck you possessed only served to offset your outstanding lack of intelligence."

Harry gave him a very dark look at that, but Severus held up a hand to forestall him from speaking. "But that was, as I've stated, in the past. My opinion has since changed."

"How?" Harry asked skeptically. "How can it have? Maybe you were right. I'm nothing special."

"I'm sure many people would beg to differ," Severus said, throwing Harry a cynical glance. "The Headmaster, for one, who has an uncanny sense about people and power. He is nothing if not an intuitive battle strategist."

"And yet he failed to tell me about any of this until my fifth year," Harry said, almost in way of objection.

"He's not infallible," Severus replied, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "His plans are not unerring. Often, his mistakes are made when he attempts to spare people pain, but it's not to say that his wisdom doesn't exceed that of most men. He wouldn't ask you to do the impossible. The fact that he expects you to succeed speaks volumes about the probability of your victory. Never forget, Harry. You do have the power the Dark Lord knows not. When the time comes, you will be ready… it's not a matter of preparation, it's a matter of fate."

"How very eloquent," Harry scoffed, earning himself an acidic glare.

"Slightly histrionic in its wording or no, it is true," Severus said irritably, though he could understand Harry's skepticism. "And you aren't alone in this, you realize."

"You know the prophecy! That's just it, I am alone!"

"No!" Severus objected, standing up. "It is only meant that in that final moment, you will be the one on the receiving or casting end of that fateful curse. Up until then, you can and must accept all help that is offered to you. I know it can't be of much comfort to think a group of children is your only means of support, so allow me to assure you that when I say you will have help, I am alluding to the adults in your life."

"Which adults?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, what do you think I'll be doing, sitting on the sidelines and conjuring biscuits and pumpkin juice at snack time?" Severus snapped, offended that Harry would even ask. "I know I fail you in many ways… but I can promise you that I won't fail you in this. I am attempting to complete this potion, which will have the utmost significance in your fight with the Dark Lord. This summer, we will devise a rigorous training schedule, and I will tell you now, I'll be teaching you things Dumbledore would never dare to incorporate into the syllabus at school."

"What, like, the Dark Arts?" Harry questioned, appalled. Was he actually suggesting this?

"You must know what they entail in order to defeat them," Severus said, raising an eyebrow as he realized how ignorant Harry was to some of the concepts of battle.

"Does Dumbledore know you're planning this?"

"We've exchanged words over it, yes," Severus admitted in a deceptively mild tone.

"What kind of words?" Harry asked cautiously. He didn't mean to argue, but he wasn't sure this was a good idea… he wasn't ready for such power. What if he didn't have the self-discipline to contain it?

"Do you honestly think," Severus said slowly, stepping forward, "That Albus Dumbledore has no knowledge of the Dark Arts? Do you think he's become the most powerful wizard in existence through ignorance of how the other side fights? Don't fool yourself into thinking there is so great a difference between dark and light, Harry. The answer to what kind of wizard you are lies within how you use the knowledge you have."

"And what if I use them the wrong way?" Harry asked. "How do you know that I won't… you know, go dark?"

"Because I will not allow you to," Severus replied, looking at Harry as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "And I have no intention of teaching you only dark spells. Most will be spells simply too powerful for normal boys of your age to attempt. I have no intentions of steering you down too dark or tempting a path."

"I know you don't intend to-"

"Harry," Severus said, stepping forward again and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation, nodding.

"Then you have little need to worry," Severus reassured him, leaning down to Harry's level to make eye contact.

"I suppose you're right," Harry conceded quietly.

Severus nodded. "And if it is of any comfort, this was planned even before we discovered our familial link. It was intended that I take up training you, in coordination with Dumbledore, this coming summer. I wasn't happy to agree at the time it was discussed… Now, however, I have a vested interest in your success… I hope you realize that my dedication has increased tenfold."

"I suppose I should thank you," Harry said quietly.

"No," Severus disagreed gently, moving to sit next to him. "Thank me after you succeed, victorious. Until then, you owe me nothing."

"And after?"

"I believe we shall all find ourselves indebted to you, Harry."

Harry hoped he was right. He didn't need people indebted to him… but he thought it would be lovely to live long enough for such a thing to happen. From where he was standing, it still didn't seem all that likely.

xxx End Chapter 33 xxx

Chapter 34

Shopping with Minerva

xxx

Another day was drawing to a close, and it was becoming more and more apparent that the Christmas holidays weren't going to stop and wait for anyone, not even the famous Harry Potter.

Harry couldn't help but feel a certain amount of dread and anticipation at the coming weeks. He had grown used to spending time with his father, yes… but actually living with the man? That was another story. Residing under his roof and abiding by his rules? Unimaginable. Eating every meal together and tolerating one another's presence and personalities, idiosyncrasies included? It was a bit much… almost like getting married, only without the fringe benefits.

Harry tried to reason with himself that this was what every other kid did, only other children had to do it for an entire lifetime. The little voice in the back of his head countered that the other kids didn't have Professor Severus Snape as a father.

He could rationalize that any amount of time he'd spent with the Dursleys had surely left him worse off than he would be now. After all, Severus had been tolerating his presence quite admirably in the past few weeks, and Harry had to admit- he was growing fonder and fonder of the man, dry wit and healthy sense of sarcasm included.

Yes, it was true. Even the little digs that Severus made at Harry were enjoyable now, especially once Harry figured out that he was allowed to retort with equally clever and scathing remarks. Occasionally, he pushed a boundary and received a warning, but on an average, Harry was finding him to be a fairly reasonable man, if you only got him to put his biases and grudges aside. He didn't seem nearly as insane as he had at one point in Harry's schooling career.

The oddest things had been triggering these thoughts in Harry lately. For example, this bout of anxious meditation had been triggered by the oddly triangular shape Harry's mashed potatoes had taken when he'd spooned them onto his plate. For some unfathomable reason, it had ironically occurred to him that they took the same shape as Severus' angular nose. Yes, it was odd, but Harry couldn't stop these sorts of thoughts from occurring. They just… did.

And so, here Harry was, sitting at dinner with Hermione and Ron and absentmindedly leaning his elbow into his side dish of mushy peas.

"Er- mate, you've got a little something on your sleeve, there," said Ron, wrinkling his nose at the site of the dark green pea residue lingering on the dark elbow of Harry's sleeve.

"Oh, thanks, Ron," Harry said, grabbing a napkin and hastily wiping the mess off his robes, causing Hermione to sigh in frustration and reach across the table to stop Harry from working the stain deeper into the fabric. She pulled out her wand to mutter a helpful cleaning spell.

"What would we ever do without you, Hermione?" Harry beamed at her, as she smiled at his flattery and tucked her wand away.

"So, you'll be spending the Holidays with Snape then, eh Harry?" Ron asked, tilting his eyebrows forward to indicate his sympathy.

Harry nodded and swallowed his food. "Yeah," he replied noncommittally, tipping his head to the side. "I don't know what I'm going to talk to him about for two weeks, but I'm sure something will come up."

"Well, we can always visit you if things get awkward," Hermione offered sympathetically, glaring when Ron choked in shock, looking at her with his eyes wide. "What?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "We will!"

"I doubt Snape is going to let us come into his house, Hermione," Ron said, leaning forward so that they wouldn't be overheard. "And even if he did… do we really want to go there?"

Harry was a little put off that his best friend was saying this right in front of him, but reasoned that since he was doing so, he obviously couldn't realize how much it bothered Harry to hear his father talked about so negatively. Perhaps he could talk to Hermione and she would yell at Ron for him. She was incredibly handy, that way.

"That's Professor Snape to you, Ronald," Hermione was saying, waving her fork for emphasis, "and you're deluded if you think that he's really going to lock Harry up for two weeks with no contact with the outside world. The Professor has already promised to let him go to the Burrow for Boxing Day, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Er- yeah," Harry said, caught off guard and looking back and forth between the two. "If I'm invited, that is."

"Oh, don't be thick Harry, of course you're invited," Ron said, giving him what was supposed to be a comforting slap on the back. Harry thought it was rather rough to be reassuring, but didn't say as much. "Mum would have you stay the whole holiday if you could, but I told her you wouldn't be able to."

"Well, I'm sure Severus would let me, if I asked," Harry said defensively, not sure he liked how Ron was implying that his father was a jail-keeper of some sort. "But I think it'll be…" he stopped, there, unwilling to continue. If Ron thought so poorly of his father, he didn't want to sit there and talk about how great he thought it might be to spend some time with him.

"We understand, Harry," Hermione said softly, grasping his hand from across the table. She glanced at Ron, whose expression was clearly meant to contradict what she had just said. She amended, "Well, I understand. I'm glad you finally have someone, Harry."

"Even if it is someone like Snape," Ron agreed, nodding. He winced a moment later, as Hermione swiftly kicked him from underneath the table.

"Especially someone like Professor Snape," Hermione corrected him, fixing him with a stern glare that reminded Harry sorely of one of the professors' own patented looks. "No offense, Harry, but I think it serves you well to have someone who will keep you in line."

Harry laughed softly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose you're right in that aspect," he concurred, glancing up towards the head table with a fond look on his face. He wasn't about to say it out loud, but he almost liked having an authority figure like Snape around- his decisions weren't solely his own, because he knew that if he made one Severus wouldn't agree with, he was in for it. He'd managed to go a long time without angering the man, and he wasn't eager to change that.

Of course, the incident in Duftown had brought Severus close to anger, but Harry felt that the stern lecture he'd received afterwards had barely rippled the surface of the deep and treacherous pool that was the temper of Severus Snape. No, Severus had been more relieved and disappointed than anything that day. Some children might say that with an adult, disappointment could feel worse than anger… Harry had to disagree… approval Harry could earn back; Severus' wrath left memories that Harry would never forget.

Of course, disappointment did make Harry feel guiltier than… why was he even contemplating this? Was his sleeve in the mushy peas again? Damn, it was.

"Er- Hermione, could you…?"

Hermione half huffed, half laughed, and pulled out her wand to oblige.

"Miss Granger, isn't there a rule about using magic outside of class?" inquired a cool voice from behind Harry. He didn't have to examine Hermione's shocked expression and faltering speech to realize who was standing behind him.

He craned his neck to look at his father's face, and saw that he was smirking down at the bushy haired girl in front of Harry. Harry shook his head; the man really took too much pleasure in making students quail before him.

"I- I was just," Hermione's high-pitched voice stuttered defensively, motioning to Harry's sleeve, which was now clean again and of no use to her case.

"Perhaps," Severus said, tapping his finger to his chin, "I should take House points."

"Or perhaps not," Harry negated, raising an eyebrow at his father's antics. Part of him was relieved to see that he was in pleasant enough a mood to want to play with his students' minds; the other part was sorely unappreciative of that fact.

"Oh, well, if you don't believe points ought to be taken, clearly I am mistaken," Severus said mockingly, taking a step back so Harry could rise from his seat.

"I'm glad you see things my way," Harry responded, smiling in satisfaction and straightening his robes.

Severus merely grunted in response and gave the boy an appraising look. "You should hang up your robes instead of stuffing them in your trunk," he commented, raising his upper lip slightly and reaching forward to inspect the wrinkled fabric of his collar. "I'll have to teach you some helpful organization spells, since you clearly lack the incentive to take care of your things the old-fashioned way."

Harry looked down at his robes and shrugged, laughing in embarrassment.

Severus lifted his eyes briefly to the ceiling and thought to himself that it had been rather presumptuous of the boy to display mirth at his disapproval, for he had been completely serious. "I just stopped by to tell you to join me when you're done here."

"Oh, okay," said Harry, moving to sit back down. "Any specific time, or-"

"Simply when it is agreeable to you. I'm going to take advantage of this time and inspect the Slytherin common rooms, but I should be done with that soon. I will be in my office when you come to find me."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

Severus stopped for a moment before leaving, looked the boy over, and said, "We'll have to talk about that, too."

Before Harry could change his expression to one of befuddlement, Severus had swept away towards the other end of the Great Hall, leaving Harry to wonder what his last comment had meant.

xxx

Somehow, Harry's housemates had managed to detain him for a full hour after Severus had left his table. Had it not been for Hermione, he might have never left. She had huffily shooed him off, and informed him that it was very rude to keep his father waiting. He supposed she was right. After all, as a professor, he had a schedule to keep.

Harry knocked on the door, and found that it was already ajar as it opened slightly. He nudged the door open the rest of the way and peered inside.

Seated behind his desk, with his feet unceremoniously propped up in front of him and leaning back in his chair, was a very soundly asleep Professor Snape. Harry smiled to himself and closed the door behind him, tiptoeing inside and coming to stand directly at his father's side.

"Having a nice nap, sir?" he inquired loudly, standing almost directly above the man's ear.

A loud curse and a crash followed. Severus quickly tumbled backwards, having been startled, and Harry watched in amusement as his long legs flew up from the desk and ascended into the air, landing Severus abruptly on the hard stone floor.

"I'm sorry," Harry laughed, "But I just couldn't resist."

Severus stood up hastily, embarrassed, and began brushing off his robes. "Do not forget, boy," he growled, fisting the front of Harry's robes (and he was rather pleased when he achieved the desired result; Harry stared back at him with wide eyes, and his breathing noticeably hitched), "that you are alone with me for two weeks… I have plenty of time to exact full retribution for whatever misdeeds you do me in the interim."

The firm grip on Harry's collar and the dangerous tone of Severus' voice were enough to keep Harry from laughing again. Sobered considerably, He nodded feebly and muttered a half-hearted apology, relieved when he was released.

"Honestly," Severus muttered to himself, righting his chair and sending Harry another forbidding look.

Harry considered the upshot of questioning why Severus had asked him to come down to his office. He wondered if the man would simply answer, or if he would take it as disrespect and put Harry in his place (and he was in just the sort of mood that would make the latter option a very good possibility).

"Just out of curiosity, sir," said Harry carefully, fully aware that he was treading on dangerous grounds. "Is there any specific reason you asked me here tonight?"

"Of course not," Severus replied facetiously. "What reason could I possibly have for requesting your presence?"

Those words stung. Harry knew they were meant to be taken as a joke; nevertheless… for a moment, Harry felt he was looking back at the face of the same rancorous professor he'd been encountering for the past five years. Harry forced a smile and a small chuckle, shrugging his shoulders.

Severus was not oblivious to the wounded look that had crossed Harry's face; he was in a bad way with his temper tonight, and being rudely awoken, and then laughed at, of all things, had not ameliorated matters.

"My apologies," Severus intoned quietly, looking away from the boy. "I did not intend to… to insult you so."

It was a far cry from an adequate apology, Severus felt, but apologizing had never been Severus' forte.

"S'okay," said Harry, sitting down and habitually pushing his hair down over his forehead, vainly attempting to make it flatter. Severus noticed, with a pang of guilt, that this was one of those habits that only showed its face during moments of insecurity.

"I'm sure you don't appreciate me showing up and interrupting your work," Harry said offhandedly. "It's just the truth, you needn't apologize-"

"Please, Harry," Severus said with difficulty, grimacing at the almost sympathetic and yet pathetic note in his voice. "Don't. I do enjoy your company… I had meant… disregard what I said. I enjoy having you come see me during the afternoons and weekends. I was making an attempt at dry humour when I said that; it was not at all intended to imply the false notion that I have no reason to enjoy your presence. I… I find myself looking forward to your visits, actually."

"Oh…" Harry said, trying not to appear too touched by this sentiment. He knew how uncomfortable this was making the man, and figured it would be best not to make a big deal out of it. By the stoicism of his father's face and tone, he could tell this is what the man wanted. "Well, I look forward to visiting. I'll- er- what did you- oh yes. I'll disregard what you said."

"Thank you," Severus said, making an effort not to breathe a sigh of relief at the close of this particular segment of the conversation. He took a seat opposite Harry, wondering how it was that Harry had ended up seated behind his desk, with him, Severus, seated in front of it. He felt very much the student he'd been twenty years ago. "I called you down here," Severus started, ignoring this minor detail, "to inform you that Professor McGonagall has agreed to escort you to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon. She will meet you in the entrance hall at 2:30, which is when your last lesson of the day concludes."

"Defense," Harry said, nodding.

"Yes," said Severus. "I will give her money for you to use-"

"No, that's okay," Harry said, waving his hands. "I have a vault at Gringotts-"

"You do realize that being my son, it is now my position to care for you, correct?"

"Well, that's fine, but-"

"And it is your position to allow me to do so, understood?"

"Well, you can, but-"

"And I demand that you begin saving that money for your life as an adult, is that quite clear?"

"Yes, but-"

"Good."

"I really don't think-"

"Stop arguing with me."

"Sir-"

"That is another thing I wanted to discuss with you," Severus said, leaning forwards and folding his hands on the desk.

"What is?"

Severus hesitated for a moment, closely inspecting his hands. Part of him felt that by asking the boy to address him more informally, he was forcing a certain amount of closeness upon him; a closeness which Severus was not even sure he was ready for yet. However, he could guess that the boy believed he was expected to finish each sentence with 'sir', and he had not shown any interest in taking Severus' proffer to call him by his first name.

"Sir?"

Severus looked up sharply…This had to stop.

"I would like you to consider calling me something other than 'sir'," Severus said carefully, stealing a glance at Harry's expression with narrowed eyes. The boy fidgeted uncomfortably, but said nothing for a few moments. "Giving me respect is beneficial to your well being, of course," Severus said, standing up and leaning against the desk, "but I feel we've…"

How could he state this comfortably?

"Moved past the teacher-student relationship?" Harry uneasily finished for him, looking unsure of himself even as he said it.

"Yes," Severus agreed, nodding. "We have."

"Well… what would I call you?" Harry asked, eyes darting around the room as though searching for an escape. "You told me once to call you Severus, but that just doesn't…"

"Yes, I agree," Severus said. "At the time, however, I didn't wish to force you to call me Professor, and I certainly wasn't comfortable with any more intimate a title."

"And now?" questioned Harry.

"You called me 'Dad' once," Severus said, trying to ignore the distinct feeling of being suffocated that arose whenever he became exceedingly uncomfortable and out of his element. "May I ask why?"

"I was wondering if you'd bring that up," Harry muttered, mostly to himself. "I don't know… it just… slipped out, I guess."

"Did it seem… fitting?" Severus asked, shuddering at the awkwardness of his own tone and choice of words.

"I don't know… I wasn't really thinking about it at the time. But yeah, I guess, it did."

"Well," Severus said, clearing his throat. "I would not be averse to… more frequent use of such a title."

Harry nodded, and in attempt to lighten the mood, said, "Now who's being too formal?"

"Oh, hush up, you impertinent little imp," Severus said, pushing away from his desk and crossing the room in a few long strides.

"I am not an imp," Harry objected, following him.

"Oh, you most certainly are," Severus rebutted, raising a challenging eyebrow. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you have a written charms exam tomorrow for which you need to prepare."

"How do you know I didn't already prepare?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"Because you are lazy," Severus said, slowly pronouncing every syllable and staring formidably down his beakish nose at Harry. "And given the choice, you will always procrastinate. I've always known that about you; it is one of your unchanging qualities."

"Well, I've recently got my act together," Harry said, blocking the door that Severus was about to pull open.

Severus smirked, and said, "Really?"

"Yes," Harry said, nodding fervently.

Admittedly, Severus was a bit flattered that the boy seemed to want to stay, instead of heading back to his common room to study, but he couldn't very well allow him to do so. This was one of those times when Harry did need the help of one Hermione Granger, because Severus wasn't about to help him study and then be nailed to the proverbial wall with the accusation of helping a student to cheat.

"What are the five types of movement magic?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows and waiting expectantly for Harry's falter.

"Er- we haven't covered that, yet," Harry lied, trying to look innocent. Admittedly, they had… but he only knew three, and he didn't know much beyond that.

"Right," Severus said skeptically, jerking the door open and pointing down the hallway. "Go study."

He watched in amusement as Harry grumbled to himself and started off at a slow trudge towards the Gryffindor common room.

xxx

Knowing that Severus would verify whether or not Harry had studied through his test results, he had gone straight to the common room and sought out Hermione that night. The first things he'd learned were the five types of movement magic; he could only hope that had been a hint of some sort. Surely Severus would have some idea of what was to be on his test.

The Charms test the next morning went surprisingly well. To Harry's pleasant surprise, a good portion of the exam did cover the five types of movement magic and the charms that area encompassed. Thanks to Hermione's help, he felt he did well on the other portions of the test as well, including objects which could be charmed to move and which object properties had to be taken into account when selecting the appropriate movement charm.

Since McGonagall was taking Harry to Hogsmeade directly after his last class of the day, Harry had resolved that the best time to see Dumbledore was most likely during lunch. The man rarely ate his midday meal at the staff table; the same was true for most of the staff. Only the Heads of Houses normally sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the students.

So, as Charms concluded and the rest of the students headed towards the Great Hall, Harry made a departure from the masses and headed in the opposite direction. He reckoned this might be an enjoyable chat; after his conversation with Severus last night, he didn't feel so awkward about getting his father a present. The man was obviously open to furthering their relationship, and this felt like a reasonable course of action. After all, kids got their parents presents all the time… why should Harry be embarrassed to talk to Dumbledore about it? And despite that ever present twinkle in the mad old man's eyes, Harry missed speaking with him. He hadn't much done so since the beginning of the year.

Harry approached the statue, clutching the parchment with the password that Hermione had given him, and looking around to make sure Severus wasn't swooping about anywhere nearby. The man had a nasty habit of turning up at the most inopportune times.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Harry spoke the password and watched as the stairs revolved and revealed themselves to him. Harry stepped on and waited for them to lift him to Dumbledore's office, unable to be bothered by climbing them.

Harry was surprised to see, when he reached the top, that Dumbledore's door was already propped open. He took a few steps forward, placed his hands on the door frame, and leaned inside to look around.

"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore exclaimed from somewhere across the room, causing Harry to jump slightly.

"Headmaster?" Harry asked, scanning the room for the concealed Wizard.

"One moment, Harry," Dumbledore said, and Harry heard a loud clatter.

"Are you alright, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Quite!" came the muffled reply.

Harry frowned, but said nothing more as he seated himself in front of Dumbledore's desk. He allowed his gaze to wander over the office, full of raffish charm and holding an abundance of peculiar and antiquated items. It had been far too long since he'd visited, he now found himself contemplating. Gone were the days when he would avoid coming to adults out of fear that he might be turned away, or tacitly unwanted. If Severus could look forward to his presence, certainly his other elders could as well. He'd always been under the impression that when one said 'my door is always open to you' it had been little more than a formality; a standard phrase programmed into adult's minds, much like children became adapted to automatically responding with 'I understand', "Yes, sir," or, in some cases, 'I didn't do it'.

As Dumbledore emerged with his hat tilted to the side and disentangling a stray Christmas ornament from his long, white beard, Harry made up his mind to make a point of visiting the man more often after the Holidays.

"Forgive me," Dumbledore said as he sat down at his desk, gently placing the Christmas ornament aside. "I was attempting to package my outgoing gifts now, before the Holidays begin, lest I be unable to do so when that week finally arrives. My weeks are rather unpredictable, as of late."

Harry nodded earnestly. "I'm sorry for interrupting you," he said, though he had no intention of leaving.

"Not at all," Dumbledore replied dismissively. "Not at all. How may I be of assistance to you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you might have some advice for me," Harry said, shifting in his seat. "I'm going to be shopping for Christmas presents today… and to be honest, I haven't a clue what to get Sev- er, what to get my father." Harry tested out this term, and admittedly, felt a bit uncomfortable using it. However, it was something he had to get used to; otherwise, he would spend the rest of his life skirting around the title. He supposed the best way to start was to use it around other people first… get used to the idea.

Dumbledore nodded, and a smile crept across his face. "How is everything between you two?"

"Er-fine," Harry answered, a bit thrown off by this evasive change of topic.

Dumbledore nodded. "I have it on good authority that you've been going down to visit him quite often."

"Yeah," Harry said, dipping his chin in affirmative response. "I- it's nice, having someone to visit who doesn't expect me to be a certain way… I don't have to talk or put on a show of being cheerful… and he gives good advice."

Oh, this was annoying. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling like mad, and his smile was all too joyful. "I often find that to be an engaging quality of Severus'," Dumbledore agreed. "He's very truthful in his advice giving, and as he makes no effort to change his disposition for others, he will never expect such a thing from anyone else."

"Yeah," said Harry, wondering if Dumbledore was going to answer his question.

"You are looking forward to spending the Holidays with your father then, yes?" Dumbledore asked.

Apparently, he wasn't yet ready to get around to Harry's query. Harry supposed he could blame the fact that he hadn't visited in so long; Dumbledore was obviously attempting to engage him longer than planned. Ah, well. Harry decided he would give in and allow Dumbledore to involve him in a conversation.

"Yes; aside from the essays I have to write as punishment for the whole Duftown incident, I think it might be fun," Harry admitted.

"Ah, yes, Severus told me about those essays," said Dumbledore.

"I didn't expect him to be so reasonable," Harry said quietly. He couldn't explain why he still felt guilty, now that the ordeal was over and he'd received his punishment. One would think that by receiving a reasonable punishment, he would be more elated than remorseful.

"He might not have been, had he not been so touched by the fact that you risked your life for him," Dumbledore softly intoned, evaluating Harry's expression carefully. "Oh yes," he said, when Harry looked up with his eyebrows raised in question. "He was extremely heartened by that fact; he didn't expect it, you see."

"Why wouldn't he expect it?"

"Harry, like you yourself are still feeling guilty despite the atonement you are doing for your crimes, Severus continues to feel shame and regret for the way he treated you in the past. Though he's apologized and improved his behavior a great deal, he still feels undeserving of your forgiveness and apparent dedication."

"When did he say this?"

"Well, a rendition of this was said to Professor McGonagall just last weekend."

"During the Quidditch match?" Harry asked, remembering seeing McGonagall and his father sitting together.

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about this. It was gratifying to know that Severus' opinion about him had changed so much that he honestly felt apologetic for the way he had treated Harry in the past. At the same time, it seemed unfair that despite Severus' improved effort towards being kind to him, he had to suffer for the way he'd acted in the past. Had Harry properly shown his appreciation for everything Severus had done? Had he actually come out and thanked him for his kindness?

"You have made much more difference in Severus' life than I ever would have expected, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, bringing Harry out of his reflections. "I've told Severus many a time, but I haven't had an opportunity to tell you; I was wrong to keep this from the two of you for so long. You've both handled the situation admirably."

It took Harry a moment to speak, but he managed a choked, "Thank you."

Thinking back to the beginning of the year, Harry realized that he and Severus had both come a long way. Yes, they still endured awkward silences and had difficulty knowing how to communicate, but it was getting better. Their relationship was steadily evolving and for the first time, Harry wasn't hesitating to go to an adult with his problems. Having Severus as a father was more beneficial than he'd ever expected; he found himself making better choices, getting better marks, and feeling much more at ease when trouble arose. He finally had a stable father figure; someone he could rely on to be there for him at any time. For now, that meant going down to see the man on weekends and afternoons. When the time for Harry to battle Voldemort came closer, he knew he would have his father there to rely on. And when the end finally came, if he was left standing… Severus would be there to put him back together as he would surely fall apart.

"Now, I believe you wanted advice on what to get your father for Christmas," said Dumbledore, sitting forward and drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Yes, a puzzling query indeed- one I've been attempting to solve for the better part of these past two decades." Harry chuckled, and Dumbledore added, "He is a difficult man to shop for, no?"

Harry nodded. "I just… I've only really known him for about four months, if you think about it."

"How wise of you, Harry, to realize that," Dumbledore said. "Many people think they know Severus; few really do. I'm pleased to say that you are one of those few, however."

"Yeah," Harry agreed somewhat bashfully. He wished Dumbledore would stop commenting on the growing relationship between him and Severus, but this seemed to be the sort of thing Dumbledore couldn't get enough of. "So… what do you think?"

"Ah, what I think," Dumbledore breathed, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head towards the ceiling. "It is not my opinion, Harry, that matters here. My perception of Severus' preferences may be completely different from what you have observed. In the end, the gift should be coming from you."

Well, that was helpful, Harry thought sardonically to himself. "But, sir, I don't even know where to start."

"What is something that would be both practical and meaningful to your father?" Dumbledore asked, maintaining eye contact with the ceiling.

I don't know! That's why I'm asking you! Harry wanted to scream, but refrained from doing so.

"Well… I was hoping you could tell me what he likes," Harry said, shrugging.

"Severus won't admit to liking many things," Dumbledore chuckled. "He buys Potions ingredients for his classes and books for his leisure, but it's doubtful you will be able to choose a reasonably priced volume which he does not already own, or has not already chosen to veto."

"Well, what do you get him every year?" Harry asked, becoming more and more frustrated by the minute.

"My dear boy, do you really think I want you stealing all my gift ideas?" Dumbledore asked, finally tearing his gaze from the ceiling. He laughed, to Harry's relief, and leaned back again, continuing, "I normally give him a large bottle of cognac and whichever book he informs me he's interested in obtaining. That is the standard gift, if you want to know- though I doubt he's informed you of his latest predilection for books, and I very highly doubt Professor McGonagall will allow you to walk into Hogwarts carrying a bottle of expensive liquor.

"Now, you asked me what I get him every year, and I have told you. However, I often find that the most meaningful parts of my gifts come from things I have picked up over the year, which I find remind me of Severus in some way- things that I know he would appreciate. He hardly expresses exuberant gratitude for any gifts, mind you… but you can see in his eyes when he truly finds a gift to be worthwhile.

"Don't meditate too deeply on this, Harry. It will come to you. The fact that you thought of him at all will be what matters to Severus in the end, trust my words."

"I wouldn't guess he was so sentimental," Harry said, half jokingly.

"Perhaps I wouldn't call it sentimentality," Dumbledore disagreed, leaning forward. "I might call it a healthy appreciation for small gestures. Severus has never been one for grandeur."

"No, I suppose not," Harry agreed truthfully. Come to think if it, Dumbledore was right. Though Severus undoubtedly had an appreciation for finer things, great shows of opulence were hardly commonplace with the man. It was one of the things Harry liked about him; he was proper, but not arrogant about what he had. What he had accomplished… maybe. But he wasn't what Harry might call materialistic.

"One more question," Harry said, sitting forward a bit, feeling uneasy about asking this at all. "Severus said he's given money to Professor McGonagall for me to shop with… I know it's an intrusion on his privacy to ask how much money he has… but is he… is he in any position to be giving me money, when I have my own?"

"As your father, yes, he is in the perfect position to be providing for you," Dumbledore answered, raising an eyebrow and giving him a slightly reproachful look. "If you're asking if he has enough money to support both of you, my answer is yes- but that is all I'll say on that matter."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, relieved. "That's all I needed to know."

"You're quite welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Now, I believe you have fifteen minutes to get down to the Great Hall and eat lunch before the house elves clear it away. I trust you will come by more often, my boy? Your absence has been most missed."

"I will, Headmaster," Harry assured him sincerely, smiling and moving towards the door. "Have a good afternoon."

"I believe I will, Harry. Now go, before you miss your last window of opportunity to eat a good meal; you have a busy night ahead of you."

"That I do," Harry said, nodding one last time and turning to head down the spiraling stone steps.

Hungry, he ran all the way down to the Great Hall, relieved to find there was still food there when he arrived.

xxx

"Harry, pay attention," Hermione hissed, jabbing him in the ribs with her hard elbow. "This is important."

Harry rolled his eyes and attempted to refocus his attention on the teacher in front of the class. He didn't much like this class; so far, they'd covered only things Harry already knew. The first few days they'd been given a chance to try out an invisibility cloak, and the person who was able to go the longest without being discovered by another classmate was given the highest grade. Naturally, Harry had won. They'd spent an entire three weeks studying metamorphmagi, which Harry found to be entirely unnecessary. None of the students in the class were metamorphmagi, so what was the point in learning how to control those powers?

Currently, the Professor was talking about different forms of Polyjuice potion. Hermione was busily scribbling notes on all the different types one could make, but in Harry's opinion, this was entirely unhelpful. They weren't being given the chore of brewing the potions, as this was not Potions class; how would knowing the various formulas help them if they didn't know how to brew them? Besides, Polyjuice took far too long to brew anyways; it wasn't something that was going to help Harry if he got stuck in a sticky situation.

He wanted to move onto the interesting stuff. The syllabus for the second half of the year looked wonderful. They would be covering voice replication spells, facial reconstruction spells, bone growth and reduction spells, and a number of others. Harry would pay attention then. Now? This seemed a waste of time. The N.E.W.T. only covered the core subjects; if Harry didn't remember all the forms of Polyjuice at the end of the year, it would be of no consequence to him.

"Harry," Hermione again whispered angrily. Her hushed yell fell rather more loudly than her normal speaking voice would have done.

"What, Hermione?" Harry hissed back through clenched teeth. Who did she think she was, his mother?

"If you don't start taking notes, I'll inform Professor Snape next time we meet that you are taking school far too lightly," she said snippily, never taking her eyes from her paper. Harry just smirked; he knew she did not intend to do any such thing.

"No one likes a snitch, Hermione," Ron warned from her other side, scrawling lazily as he had already been manipulated into taking notes.

"Harry does; he's a Seeker," Hermione quipped, though her expression was far from amused. "Harry, I'm sorry, but it's for your own good," she said, pushing a piece of parchment in front of him.

Harry found it slightly amusing that their Professor had not said a word during the entirety of their hushed conversation; his focus was on the back of the room, where two Slytherins were passing a piece of parchment back and forth and snickering loudly at whatever they'd put on it. Harry rolled his eyes as the Professor glared at the back of the room, but continued teaching. Some of these new teachers really had no spine when they thought their students were capable of retaliation.

Shaking his head, he picked up his quill and began taking notes.

When class finally ended, Hermione and Ron accompanied Harry back to the common room to get his things.

"How long will you be gone tonight?" Hermione asked as Harry unloaded his schoolbooks onto his four poster and began to fill his bag with all the necessary items. He shrugged as he crumpled his invisibility cloak into a ball and shoved it into the bag.

"I don't know. Depends how long it takes me to find something Sever- my father would like."

Ron made a face and said, "It's really foul of Snape to make you go with McGonagall to buy Christmas gifts, if you ask me."

Harry's face heated up, and he had a feeling it was turning an unattractive shade of red. He kept his head down and said in what he hoped was a dismissive tone, "Yeah, well, at least he's made an effort to let me go."

Ron snorted and sat down on the bed. "Yeah, with McGonagall. If you ask me, it was a wonky punishment in the first place. I mean, how can he expect to keep you confined for so long? He's going to have to let you out eventually."

"Ron," Harry said, looking up at his friend and keeping his knuckles planted on the bed. "Please shut up."

"What?" Ron asked defensively, looking at Hermione, who shook her head as if to say 'I'm not getting involved with this'.

"I'm only saying-"

"I know what you're saying, Ron, and I asked you to shut up," Harry said, throwing his pocket money into the bag, closing it, and slinging it up over his shoulder. He turned without another word and started heading for the stairs. Hermione and Ron followed, but remained silent until they arrived at the Entrance Hall.

"I'll be okay from here, guys, thanks," Harry muttered, picking up his pace and strolling to the other end of the hall to wait by the doors.

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, but made no effort to protest. Harry ignored them as they walked away, opting instead to lean against the wall and stare out over the grounds. Ron was his best friend, and always would be, but he could be so thick sometimes it was ridiculous. Harry had put up with his carping on Severus for a long time now; he had hoped that with time, the unattractive habit would see itself out of Ron's personality. It hadn't, though. It had definitely stuck; Ron had known for months, and he still hadn't changed his opinion about Snape at all. Of course, it didn't help that Snape had gone from picking on Harry to picking on Ron in the halls, but most of his taunting was good natured… from Harry's point of view. Harry grimaced at that thought, and made note to talk to his father about that.

Professor McGonagall arrived several minutes later, walking briskly towards Harry and snapping at a few stray Ravenclaws who had not yet gone to class.

"Terribly sorry to be so late, Potter," McGonagall said as she strode up to him, checking through her bag for something. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, though he didn't move. He stood awkwardly in front of the door, waiting for her to say something else.

"Well? Let's not dawdle, Potter, it's a long walk down to the village," McGonagall chided, though she smiled ever so thinly as she said it. Harry grinned and started out the door and onto the grounds.

"Do you know where you want to stop first?" McGonagall asked as they reached the gates. She raised her wand, tapped them, and they slowly opened to allow them leave.

"Well, is there a good bookshop in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, thinking immediately of Hermione. She would be the easiest to shop for, undoubtedly.

"There are two," McGonagall informed him, nodding. "There's a smaller one next to Honeydukes; they've not much of a selection, mostly just the kinds of books you might buy as replacements if you lost yours during the school year. There's another across from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, which has a wider variety to choose from. I assume you are thinking of Miss Granger?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "She seems to be the best person to start with; I know what she'll like."

McGonagall nodded and continued walking.

It didn't take Harry long to find the perfect gift for Hermione, much to his relief. He didn't much like bookshops; the smell of books, crisp parchment, and fresh ink reminded him all too conspicuously of homework, for obvious reasons. He paid for his book and left the shop, stopping (much to Professor McGonagall's chagrin) in the middle of the street to decide where to go next.

Hogsmeade was a small town, and Harry was well aware that he had not many options. There was a small shop down the street that was dedicated to muggle objects; it looked interesting, but Harry very much doubted he would find anything in that shop for his father. Harry considered it for a moment, and then rejected the idea. He would go there later if he had time.

There were the typical stops at Zonko's and Honeydukes that needed to be made, but as Harry well knew his way around those two shops, he resigned himself to visiting those at the end of the trip.

Eliminating those two, and clearly having no need to visit the post office, quill shop, or magical device repair, he was left with some quaint little shops that he knew nothing about. Giving McGonagall an apologetic glance, Harry began to wander down the street, looking for something that might interest him. There was a young ladies apparel shop, right next to the wizard garments shop. Harry very much doubted he'd find anything in there to give to either of his female friends, and he certainly wasn't about to give his father a pair of lacy underclothing for Christmas.

A little ways down the street was a small apothecary. McGonagall sighted it first and suggested it as a place to get Severus' gift, but Harry declined. Everyone he had spoken to had seemed to agree that to get Severus potions ingredients, which he would probably use to teach his classes, seemed a bit impersonal. And in Harry's opinion, the thought of reaching under the Christmas tree and unwrapping a jar of pickled newt, or something equally disgusting, sounded absolutely revolting.

Harry couldn't have been more pleased when he stumbled across a stand full of Quidditch memorabilia, right outside of Dervish and Banges. The shopkeeper was a small, bright looking wizard, hilariously covered head to foot in the attire of the Vidlin Valkyries. He smiled kindly and waved his little flag.

"Just looking?" the shopkeeper asked in a low voice, which didn't suit his appearance.

"Yeah, Christmas presents," Harry said tiredly, nodding. He'd not been in Hogsmeade an hour, and he was already tired of shopping. It was very boring work when he wasn't with his friends; normally, half the fun was buying their presents while they weren't looking, constantly on the verge of being caught. Harry supposed that was his Gryffindor side coming out; he liked adventure, even the smallest kinds.

"Well," said the little wizard, "We have a wide variation of apparel representing the many Quidditch teams of the United Kingdom, and if you step around to the other side of the cart, there are some more amusing items which might interest your friends."

"Thank you," Harry said, hoping to silence the shopkeeper. He kept talking, however.

"Everything on this cart is less than twenty-five galleons, aside from the autographed photos, which are all forty."

Harry nodded as a stack of signed photos was shoved under his nose; he regretfully took them, and tried not to sigh exasperatedly as he began sifting through the pile. It took him a good ten minutes to get down to the bottom of the deck, at which time he shook his head and handed them back to the wizard.

"No?" the wizard asked, looking a bit put out.

Harry shook his head. There had been no photos of Chudley Cannon players, and as far as he knew, Ron wasn't especially interested in any other teams.

Without saying another word to the shopkeeper, Harry edged around to the other side of the cart. Smiling, he bent down and inspected the moving figures behind the clear glass doors of the cart. At the World Cup, there had been moving figurines representing different Quidditch players. These were entire Quidditch stadiums, complete with the entire team working in formation, passing the ball back and forth and trying to score on their keeper. They looked to be engaging in a team practice. Harry watched in amusement as one player scored a goal, and the whole team turned around, smiled, and waved at him. Grinning, Harry stood up.

"These little working figurines of Quidditch Teams," Harry started to the shopkeeper, pointing down at the glass. "Do you have any of the Chudley Cannons?"

The shopkeeper grimaced. "The company I buy from provides them, but they're not a very popular team, so I haven't any on stock. However, if you would like to place a post order, I can have one delivered to you before Christmas."

Harry resisted pointing out that the Vidlin Valkyries were hardly well known.

"Perhaps within the next week?" he asked, and the shopkeeper nodded. "How much?"

"Seven galleons for sending costs-"

Harry frowned as the shopkeeper spoke. How much money did it take to send an owl?

"-Five for packaging-"

Funny, Harry would have thought packaging would have been a sending cost.

"-Ten for ordering directly from the company-"

Weren't things less expensive coming directly from their makers?

"-and you may add those small fees to the twenty-five galleons they are marked for sale here."

Harry's forehead crinkled up as he made a concentrated effort to add up those sums. If he was correct, that came to forty-seven galleons. It seemed a bit ridiculous to pay almost double for a team that, according to this wizard, wasn't even that popular. Harry looked at McGonagall, who was staring with narrowed eyes and an unhappy expression at the shopkeeper. She gave him a barely perceptible shake of the head, but made no effort to move. Harry took it that he was supposed to argue this price.

"I don't really think this is worth nearly fifty galleons," Harry said, turning back to the shopkeeper. "I suppose I'll have to look elsewhere-"

Flustered, the little man shook his little head and quickly blurted out, "Well, perhaps we can negotiate the price a bit! If you buy one of these here-" he paused as he pulled out a heavily laden rack of Quidditch themed jewelry, "-fine pieces of jewelry, we can take ten percent off your overall order. I'm sure there's a young girl who's caught your interest- perhaps a present for her?"

"Oh, really?" Harry asked. The shopkeeper nodded vigorously. Harry considered this for a moment. He couldn't think of a girl that he particularly fancied at the moment, and Hermione wouldn't much enjoy any of these… but then again, he was spending Boxing Day at the burrow… and Ginny had been spending an awful lot of time around him, Ron, and Hermione lately. She might be hurt if she wasn't given anything, and Harry really wanted to get this for Ron. "And how much are these?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the necklaces the wizard was pulling off the rack.

"Well, they're made with fine silver-"

"How much?" McGonagall clipped from beside Harry.

The man flinched at her cold tone, and said, "Twenty-two galleons."

"So you'll take seven galleons off the overall price, then?" McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrow and looking at him almost bemusedly. It was plain to see that she thought this was a ridiculous offer.

The man visibly swallowed and looked hopefully towards Harry, as though expecting some sort of support from him. Harry offered none. Instead, he said, "I'll give you fifty galleons for the lot. Take it or leave it."

This did not appear to make the small shopkeeper happy. He crossed his arms, sat back, and examined Harry for a moment, as though searching for areas of weakness which he might attack. "Fine," he said after a moment, and then sheepishly grabbed a pad of paper off his stand. "…If you'll sign your autograph for my daughter."

Harry was annoyed by this request, but decided to comply. After all, he was getting two Christmas presents for the price of one… well, the highly overpriced price of one. He signed the pad of paper, handed over the galleons, and began filling out his post order form.

Growing noticeably weary of wandering the streets without apparent aim, McGonagall suggested the next store, saying they would most likely find the best gifts for Severus there. The two Heads of House didn't exchange gifts, McGonagall had clarified, but she did seem to know his taste. Nothing overly sentimental, yet nothing so general and common that it could be given as a gift to anyone. And, the man liked quality. As a result, Harry had a very hard time looking for gifts in this store; they were all quite expensive.

Harry still didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to spend his own money. The Dursleys had never had any qualms with this; they certainly made no effort to provide for him. If they had qualms with anything, it was that Harry was able to provide for himself, not that they weren't able to give him their money.

This shop was dim, but well kept. Where rays of sunshine streaked through the window and across the floor, one could see the small particles of dust hovering in the air. The items on the shelves were old and antiquated, yet rare and beautiful in their own right. Some appeared to be newly made, but the fashion in which they were crafted suggested their making had originated centuries ago. McGonagall remained close to Harry, explaining different items in which he showed interest.

Harry tried to follow every piece of advice he had been given regarding Severus' present. Harry looked for something that would express some sort of sentiment, but was practical at the same time. He looked for something personal, but nothing that would make Severus feel as though he had been analyzed to the point of intrusiveness. He looked for something of value, but nothing extravagant.

It was an extremely challenging search.

It was when all seemed lost and Harry was brought to the brink of capitulation that something finally caught his eye. On a high ledge next to the purchasing counter sat perched a display of a large map, a small, jagged, indigo crystal, and a larger smooth white orb.

"Excuse me, ma'am, may I ask what this is?" Harry asked, addressing a young, dark looking woman who was watching him from behind the counter.

She could be considered attractive; she had an unrefined look about her that was, to a certain extent, charming. She was young, and had smiled warmly at Harry when he'd walked through the door; unexpected, for she didn't look like the friendly type. She wore a loosely hanging, gauzy crimson dress that reminded Harry of a gypsy's attire. Her long, claret colored nails curled a bit at the end, seemingly in need of a good trim, but not likely to receive one. She wore her wiry black curls tied back into one long, low hanging tress, aside from the strands that fell around her face.

"Please don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel old," she said, rising from where she sat and coming over to where he stood. "My name is Eithre; you may address me as such. You wanted to know about this?"

She touched the item above Harry's head, making him feel rather short, as he hadn't been able to reach. She was very tall, and the high, thin heel on the back of her shoe gave her several inches on him.

Harry nodded. "What does it do?"

"Notice that this crystal is a deep indigo," Eithre instructed, extending it to him. "It doesn't start out that way. Are you familiar with the theory of one's magical aura in relation to colors?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head and wondering vaguely if it was something he might see on his N.E.W.T.

Eithre nodded and began to explain. "Your magical aura is something like your own individual signature. It is unique to you; no one else will have quite the same aura as you do. As you grow into an accomplished wizard, experience new events and emotions, and gain more knowledge, your aura may change. It is linked to you, as a person, and will transform along with your ideas, beliefs, and personality.

"A crystal may be used to recognize one's magical signature. By channeling your magic through this crystal, just once, it will learn to recognize that signature, and remain suited to do so. That is the reason for the color; what does the color this stone tell you about the person to which it is attuned?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders and feeling like quite an idiot.

Eithre smiled, and flipped the crystal over in her hands a few time. "This crystal contains the signature of my magical aura. It represents my distinctive ability to understand myself and to allow ideas and inspiration to spring from within. As a point of interest, it coincides with my wand wood- Rosewood. It's a wood known for one with the ability to understand matters of the heart."

"So this is… a key to understanding your magical personality?"

To Harry's displeasure, Eithre laughed quietly. "No," she admitted, shaking her head. "You must be wondering why I'm telling you all this. This crystal can be used to track the one it is linked to, when used in coordination with this map and this orb. This orb is spelled to only respond to the first person who uses it; it will show you where a person is and what they are doing. It is an extremely safe way of keeping track of someone you care about."

Harry stared at the crystal in her hand for a moment. This. This was the perfect gift to give Severus. It was a perfect expression of trust, just personal and practical enough to do the trick. What better way existed to show him that though they had once had their differences, that was behind them? At one time, Harry had spent his time deceiving and sneaking around Severus; now he could give him full access to knowledge of his doings, and he didn't mind, because he did trust the man.

"How much is this?" Harry asked, hoping it would be within his range of expenses.

Eithre grimaced, and set the crystal back up on the shelf. "Who is this for?" she asked, moving back to her counter. Harry followed.

"How did you know it was for someone?"

"You're carrying bags, and you don't seem like the type to shop much for yourself."

"Oh," Harry said, glancing down at the bags in his hands. She really was insightful. "It's umm- it's for my father."

"An interesting thing for a boy to give his father," she said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

Harry nodded. "I want him to know that I trust him."

The woman nodded, and pointed to the shelf. "I'm linked to my mother, through that. She owns this store, I just work here during the day. She's rather taken with all this," she said, waving around at the store.

"You're not?" Harry asked, looking her over.

Eithre stared at him a bit funnily for a moment, probably wondering why he was sizing her up as he said that. Then she laughed, looking down at her clothes. "This?" she asked, lifting the fabric between two long, dark nails. "My mother insists that no one wants to buy from a shopkeeper who doesn't look knowledgeable. I tell her that looking mad and outdated doesn't equate eruditeness, but she disagrees."

Harry laughed, thinking that this woman's personality didn't match the visage. He then realized she had skirted around his question of price. "You didn't answer my question, though."

"When did you find out you had a father?"

Harry frowned, wondering how she could possibly know to ask that. She tipped her head to the side and motioned to his forehead. "According to legend, your father was killed by You-Know-Who, and I can't remember hearing you had been adopted."

"Oh," Harry said, looking around to see if McGonagall was nearby. She was inspecting something that resembled a kettle a few isles away. He expected that if she knew he'd let such a thing slip, he'd be reprimanded. "August," he answered.

She nodded. "The lowest I can go is ninety galleons, because I can see that this means a lot to you."

"How much is it normally?" Harry asked, scrunching up his face.

"Do you want it for ninety, or do you not?" Eithre asked, looking at him determinedly.

"I-"

Harry didn't know. It seemed an awful lot to pay… but if…

"I'll be right back," Harry said, turning and heading in the opposite direction.

He reached McGonagall shortly, who was onto inspecting the next item on the shelf.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Harry said, hoping she would acquiesce.

"And what's that, Potter?" McGonagall asked, straightening and turning to him.

"Let me buy Severus' present with my own money," Harry said, hoping it didn't sound too much like a demand.

"He said you might do this," McGonagall muttered, shaking her head. "Potter, I am on strict orders from your father not to let you spend any of your own money, is that quite clear? Now, I personally think you ought to be grateful that Severus is willing to provide for you, instead of arguing the point. And do not think for a moment that Severus cannot afford to do this-"

"It just doesn't seem to me that a teacher's salary can-"

"Careful what you say, Potter, for I live on a teacher's salary as well. Severus spends most of his time at Hogwarts, where all of his food and living is provided. He rarely ventures out, and when he does, he receives money from the Headmaster to purchase the supplies for his classes. Aside from that, the man really spends very little money. Do not worry your little head, Potter. Severus is well off… though, I would prefer if you did not tell him you heard such from me."

"I found something I want to get him, but the lowest the shopkeeper said she can go is ninety galleons," Harry said desperately. "And I still have shopping to do."

"Potter, that is well within the price range," McGonagall said, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the counter.

After finishing at that shop, Harry made quick stops at both Zonko's and Honeydukes to pick up a few trinkets to add to his friends' gifts. For Ron, he got a quill that advertised having the ability to do one's homework. He hadn't seen anything else at Zonko's that looked interesting, so he had moved onto the candy store. For Hermione, he purchased an entire bag of sugar quills, thinking fondly of her habit of nibbling on her quills as she worked. For Ginny, he purchased a large bag of chocolates; he wasn't sure why, but they seemed appropriate for her. He debated whether or not to buy Ron anything else, as he'd already purchased the quill and the model of the Quidditch stadium. He resolved to buy Ron a few packs of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, thinking it would be something to occupy him during Quidditch practice.

"Do we have a bit more time left?" Harry asked as they stepped out of Honeydukes, ignoring the way she was looking disapprovingly at the bags of candy in his hands.

"A bit, yes," she said, looking back at the castle. Was that a look of longing in her eyes? "Why do you ask?"

"There's a shop down there I wanted to visit," Harry said.

Little did he know, he would end up finding his favorite gift of all in the book section of that muggle imitation gift shop. He went back to the castle that evening feeling very satisfied indeed.

xxx

Treading through the halls after McGonagall, Harry wondered when he was going to be dismissed. He had tried to dismiss himself, back in the entrance hall, by thanking McGonagall for taking him to Hogsmeade, but it hadn't worked. She had continued walking while she answered him, which Harry didn't think was her way of saying, "You are free to go".

So, here he was, following McGonagall through halls that seemed to be leading to her office. She hadn't yet told him to stop following her, so he figured he was doing what she wanted…. that was how he figured out if he was doing something right or wrong these days. He waited to be yelled at.

His suspicions were correct; McGonagall arrived at the door to her office, and stepped back, holding it open for him. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, Potter, I was wondering if I might have a chat with you?"

Harry was a bit confused about which subject she might like to chat on, but he complied and walked into the office. Quidditch, perhaps? The house cup and his failure to earn the house points until the end of every year? Procrastination did seem like something she would lecture him on. Maybe she intended to discuss-

"Professor Snape," McGonagall said in what would be a conversational tone, if it were not for the arched eyebrow on her lined face. She sat down at her desk as she continued. "You and he have been… getting along?"

Harry nodded, eyeing her with a look of bewilderment on his face.

McGonagall looked disgruntled that he had not elaborated. "He is… treating you well?"

Harry nodded again, his expression unchanging.

"Are you happy?" McGonagall asked, more insistently now.

Harry nodded again, and one of her worn, fisted hands pounded onto her desk.

"For goodness sake, Potter, say something," she said in frustration, drumming her fingers impatiently on her desktop.

Harry shrugged. "I like talking to him. He takes care of me, I guess, in a way… he seems to care. I mean, he doesn't actually come out and say it that often, but I can tell- like when he yells at me to do my homework, or educates me about random teas so I'll be educated about something other than magic… yeah. It's nice to have someone who'll do that."

Now it was McGonagall's turn to look bewildered. "You… you enjoy it when he yells at you?"

Harry laughed. "Well, he doesn't usually yell… not all the time. And he doesn't mean it to sound harsh. It's just his way of communicating."

McGonagall looked at him oddly for a moment, and then shook her head as though to clear her thoughts. "I must say, Potter, you have certainly grown since you first arrived here. I still remember when you burst into my office, proclaiming wildly that Professor Snape was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone." McGonagall gave a little chuckle at the thought, before proceeding. "You are prepared to spend the entirety of the Holiday with him, though?"

Why did people seem so perplexed by this notion? Yes, he was going to spend the Holiday with Severus. The man was his father, after all, and this is what fathers and sons did… right?

"Is there something abnormal about that?" Harry questioned.

McGonagall shook her head, and said comfortingly, "I've no intention to make you doubt your relationship with your father, Potter. If I did, he would undoubtedly be down here hollering at me in an instant- it's surprising, how protective he is over you, and how much he cares for your opinion. I've never seen him act that way before. I simply wanted to hear it from your point of view; Severus has been known to be quite talented at trading one visage for anther, in order to suit his purpose. I had to make sure."

Harry felt strangely touched by this sentiment; he had rarely had the feeling that McGonagall watched over him. She wasn't a very emotional person, and rarely betrayed any feelings of affection for individual students… of course, she had given him that broom in first year, and had helped him with his O.W.L. work, and had… fine. So she did show that she cared; was Harry simply blind to any shows of concern? He never seemed to notice them unless he was looking for them.

"Well, yeah, we get along, if that's what you wanted to know," Harry said.

"How have your friends reacted to this?"

Harry was a bit taken aback by this question. Who asked that? How did his friends react? What was this? An interrogation?

"Well," Harry started uneasily, shifting in his seat, "Hermione and Ginny have both been very supportive."

"And Mr. Weasley?"

"Not so much," Harry admitted. "He makes a lot of little… remarks, about Sev- my father- and… I don't know."

"Have you told him how you feel about that?"

"I finally told him to shut up today," Harry said, quirking his lips a little.

"That might not be a forward enough message for Mr. Weasley," McGonagall told him, raising her eyebrows. That seemed to be all she was going to say on the matter, as she rose from her desk to pat Harry on the shoulder. "I'm glad things are going well for you. I won't keep you any longer- but if things get difficult with Severus, or anything happens over the Holiday, you may feel free to write me, and I will give him what-for. Understood?"

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, as he knew she was serious. "Yes, thank you, Professor."

"You're quite welcome, Potter. Now I suggest you head back to your common room."

Harry did as she asked, wondering as he walked back to Gryffindor why it was that she always seemed to want to send him there.

xxx

Apparently, Harry only arrived at the common room to be sent back out again.

He first hid his bags in the trunk up in his dorm, securing it with a locking spell. Tired, but not ready to go to bed, he then went back down to the common room, where groups of Gryffindors were gathered in bunches. He found Ron, Seamus, and Ginny and went over to them, flopping down in one of the empty seats near Ginny.

"Hermione was looking for you earlier," Ron said without looking up from his game of exploding snap.

"Oh?" Harry asked, frowning as he looked at Ron's odds of winning. "Why's that?"

Ron looked up, apparently thinking for a moment, and then shrugged. "No clue."

Ginny rolled her eyes and said to Harry, "Professor Snape and she are working on the private potions lessons," she said pointedly, and Harry understood her meaning. "They wanted you to join them when you got back."

Harry stared at her for a moment, then groaned loudly and flopped back. "I am tired," he complained. "And I need a bath, and I'm hungry, and I apparently missed dinner in the Great Hall. The last thing I want to do is go down there to work on potions."

"You're lucky Hermione's not here, mate, or you'd get a earful," Ron said, laughing a bit.

Ginny glared at her brother. "Well, I'm here, so he's just as bad off, isn't he Ron?" She turned to Harry, and hissed quietly, "Your father and best friend are working around the clock to make a potion that is supposed to helpyou. The least you can do is go down there and help."

Harry quickly rose, thinking he was getting off much more easily than he might have with Hermione. He figured the best way to keep it that way was to agree and leave for Severus' dungeons. He and Ron exchanged sympathetic glances as he turned to leave, their earlier fight forgotten, but not finished.

Harry had been down to the dungeons a number of times, so it hardly felt like any time at all, getting down there. The door to Severus' office was closed, but Harry had a hunch that he'd already charmed them to recognize his touch, as they had discussed. Hoping against hope he wouldn't be stunned, Harry reached out and grasped the door handle. To his relief, no spells repelled him or sliced him in two. He smiled at the thought that Severus might actually do something like that; he found it somewhat amusing.

There was a note written for him on a small end table near the office door. Severus must have known he would come this way.

Harry,

I've left the door to my private quarters open for you. We will be in the potions classroom, just down the hall from my office. Do not come down there until you have eaten what I left on a plate for you on my table. It is charmed to be kept warm, so you shan't need to heat it. You may also make yourself a cup of tea, as I don't keep pumpkin juice. Burn this note in the fireplace when you're through.

With relief, Harry noticed that the note wasn't signed. He was trying to become accustomed to calling Severus his father, but seeing the word "dad" in black and white… it would have been too daunting.

Harry looked back down at the note, and grinned, for two reasons. One, Severus had thought to leave him some dinner, as he had spent too long shopping. It was really very kind of him (and also proved that he kept an eye open for him at dinner, which didn't feel awful, either). Two, Severus was so paranoid about someone seeing a note which denoted that he was capable of kindness, that he actually asked Harry to burn it when he was through.

Harry folded it and slipped it into his pocket.

As promised, the dinner Severus left out for Harry was still warm, and extremely fulfilling after a long day of shopping. On his plate was a large helping of Shepherds pie, with three large, golden biscuits on the side. Harry used them to soak up the gravy that ran off his food, and found himself quite enjoying the quiet as he sat with a nice cup of tea. Part of him felt guilty that he hadn't hurried to eat and gone down to the Potions classroom… but then, Severus hadn't mentioned anything about hurrying. He was rarely of any help to them, anyways.

When Harry finished his cup of tea, he reluctantly cleaned up his place and started off towards the Potions classroom. He was tempted to fall asleep on Severus' couch, instead; he wouldn't get yelled at until morning, at any cost, and he could avoid doing work. However, a sense of duty and a disinclination to anger Severus put him off that idea.

The door to the classroom was cracked open, which Harry took as a sign that he was to let himself in. A large cauldron was bubbling across the room, and Severus was leaning against one of the tables, addressing Hermione formally. She looked like she was itching to write down his words, but sadly had no quills or parchment handy.

"So then we won't need to do anything during the week of the Holiday?" Hermione was asking.

Severus shook his head. "It will need to be checked, every once in a while, of course, but I can accomplish that when I return here from time to time. Still, nothing can be done until we have Draco's blood. That will be the next step, followed by the addition of Voldemort's flesh, if Draco can manage it."

"I certainly hope he can," Hermione said softly, looking worriedly at the ground.

Harry waited to see that they were done speaking, and then cleared his throat to announce his arrival. Both Severus and Hermione looked over at him; Hermione flashed him a great smile, and Severus gave him a nod.

"Did you find my missive?" Severus asked, pushing off of the table and walking towards Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, thanks for keeping dinner for me."

"Well, you're hardly in any shape to be skipping meals," Severus said brusquely, scrutinizing Harry's thin frame. Harry longed to retort that the same might be said about Severus, but thought that in front of Hermione, that might be pushing it. "I trust all went well in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, grinning. "Thanks for letting me go."

Another nod. Severus cleared his throat and stalked over to his desk, sifting through the pile of papers there. Harry decided he liked Severus better when no one else was around; he talked more. Funny; at one time, Harry would have thought that the best way to have Snape around was silently.

"I'm glad you're here," Hermione said as she reached Harry. "I hate walking back to the common room after hours by myself, and I didn't really want to ask Professor Snape to accompany me."

"I'm sorry if he's been awful to you," Harry said, glancing over at Severus, who was now angrily tossing papers to the side, apparently looking for something. He stifled a laugh.

"Oh, it's not that," Hermione said. "He's actually been rather tolerable; good company for a working environment, even. I just didn't want to seem like some sort of scared little girl to him, if you understand."

"Miss Granger, have you seen my notes on the Curatio Vulni potion?" Severus snapped from across the room, now using his wand to file all the papers he'd just thrown off his desk in frustration.

Hermione turned red, and then ran back to her bag. "Yes, I'm so sorry sir, I was copying down information on the Alcruor Prosapia earlier, and I accidentally started copying those, and then I thought that since I'd already written half of them I might as well write the rest… and I accidentally shoved them in my bag… oh, here you go."

At least she keeps her papers neat, Severus thought to himself while rolling his eyes and snatching his notes from her.

"What's the Alcruor Prosapia?" Harry asked, looking confusedly between the both of them.

"It's the potion we've been working on, Harry," Hermione answered, clearly trying to hide here embarrassment as she hastily shoved her folder back into her bag.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling rather stupid. "I don't remember hearing a name."

"We don't usually use the name, Harry, because if others were to overhear what we were doing, the results could be disastrous." Severus finished putting his papers away, and then turned to Harry. "You would do well to remember that; no one can find out about what we are doing."

Harry decided to leave out the fact that Ron and Ginny already knew. He would be sure to mention this to them.

"Miss Granger, Harry will meet you outside in a moment," Severus said stiffly, obviously still a bit irritated that she had taken his notes. "I need to have a word with him."

Harry's first thought was: It wasn't me. He thought to say that, however, would seem suspicious, so he stayed quiet.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione mumbled, walking out with her head hung so that her bushy brown hair would hide the slowly fading red tinge of her cheeks.

Severus watched Hermione disappear into the corridor, and then smirked. "Serves the girl right for taking my notes; she can stand in the dark corridor for a few minutes. I wanted to tell you that we will be leaving on Friday, after I see my students onto the train. We will need to return periodically during the week; I still have some students to look after. However, we may be able to spend a fair amount of time at the house."

"I don't mind returning," Harry said truthfully. He had spent every Christmas here; it would feel odd if he didn't even see the place over the holiday.

Severus nodded his approval. "You may not need to pack much, since we will be returning, but I would prefer it if you were more prepared than not."

"Yeah, no problem," Harry said. "I will be."

"Good. You should be on your way now. I think Miss Granger is getting anxious."

Severus pointed to the crack of the door, through which Harry could see Hermione's profile. She was biting her lip anxiously and looking around; she even jumped at one point. Severus refrained from laughing, but he was unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"You are not a nice man," Harry said, shaking his head and heading for the door.

Severus shrugged. "Worse has been said."

Harry bid his father goodnight, and stepped out into the corridor with Hermione. She breathed an audible sigh of relief, and he held back a snort of amusement.

"I didn't think you were afraid of the dark, Hermione," he said quietly, looking down to hide his smile.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," she said crossly, sending him a dark look. "But I'm not eager to run into the Bloody Baron in the dungeons, that's for certain... It's downright creepy down here, you can't disagree." She shivered.

"It's not as though you've never been down here before," Harry countered, looking at her from the side. She shrugged, and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I know... but he spent the entire time tonight talking about the rising resistance to the light side, and how we need to be constantly wary. Then he goes on about how Hogwarts isn't even quite safe anymore... and sends me to stand out in a dark corridor and wait by myself! And on top of that, I'm positive Peeves is down that hall, making those terrifying noises just to frighten me, but I wasn't about to check, was I?"

Harry was silent, and Hermione looked at him suspiciously. Slowly, it came to her.

"He did that on purpose, didn't he?"

"Yep," Harry replied, nodding and allowing himself a chuckle.

Hermione growled and muttered something under her breath. For the first time since he'd come to Hogwarts, Harry believed he had just heard Hermione call a teacher a foul name. In that moment, he couldn't have been more thrilled with the way Severus' mind worked. He looked over at Hermione. This was so much more entertaining than a Quidditch game.

xxx End Chapter 34 xxx

Chapter 35

The House

xxx

Severus ran a smoothing hand over the duvet atop the bed that would soon belong to his son. Everything appeared in order; Dumbledore and he had been inspecting the house since the wee hours of the morning, and Severus had been coming all week. Two boggarts had been expelled from a closet and a wardrobe, the particularly malicious portraits stored, the others hung out of sight, and the house elf briefed on what would be expected when he and Harry took up residency there. It had been… tiring, and he didn't particularly enjoy the reminiscent feelings that seemed to pursue him. He let out a deep sigh and sat down, closing his eyes as a defence against the nostalgia that threatened to envelope him again.

It was almost haunting, revisiting this home. He'd left soon after his parting with Lily, and hadn't returned except to collect his things when needed. She had done most of the decorating on this house, and travelling from room to room, closely inspecting everything she had, at one time, been responsible for was difficult. However, he had attempted to be strong. He'd changed nothing aside from the location of the Master bedroom, asking Dumbledore to move it to the other side of the house. He hadn't slept alone in that room since she'd left; he preferred not to try now.

The thoughts wouldn't stop flooding him. Were he a more rational man, he might not be in this situation. Had he not scared her off, would he still be sitting alone in this room, thinking longingly of her? Severus rested his head against the bedpost, more embittered and worn than angered by these thoughts. He was too tired to care anymore; he could only regret his actions. He couldn't change them.

"There's nothing to be done."

Severus' eyes snapped open and flew to the door, scrutinizing the careworn face of the Headmaster. Had he somehow known what Severus was thinking?

"That room can't be saved, it's been neglected for too long," Dumbledore continued, looking regretfully down the hall. "I doubt either one of you would enjoy it much, at any cost, unless you planned to take him that deep into the study of white magic. I have a room with similar properties which may be used, when the time comes."

Oh. Severus longed to let out a sigh of relief. Dumbledore had been talking about the room down the hall. "Lily loved it; I thought Harry might have liked to see it," Severus commented, rising from the bed and re-smoothing the place where he'd sat.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, and was quiet for a long while. Severus said nothing more; experience had taught him that the pensive expression currently in place on the Headmaster's face normally meant that he was attempting to sum up his thoughts in a delicate manner. Both men stood; Dumbledore resting a hand on the pine wardrobe, and Severus waiting patiently for his words.

"Severus," Dumbledore finally said resignedly, inhaling deeply and looking grim. His age was beginning to show these days in his actions, words, and most of all, his physical mannerisms. "You cannot bring the boy's mother back to him."

That hadn't been what Severus had expected. He'd expected some sort of wise advice on how to make Harry's holidays more enjoyable, or even on how to deal with his own grief. He knew that Dumbledore could see it still plagued him. "I'm not trying to bring her back to him-" Severus disagreed in what he thought was a rational tone, but Dumbledore raised his weathered hand, signalling Severus to quiet.

"You are attempting to make reparations for the fact that she is no longer here," Dumbledore explained heavily, gazing at the younger wizard with a disenchanted gleam in his eye. Sorrow, sympathy- Severus knew that expression well in the man. "He doesn't blame you. Stop blaming yourself. It is no crime to share your memories of her with him, but I have seen in your eyes the regret you feel at bringing him to this home where she no longer dwells. Harry has come to terms with the fact that she has moved on; it's time you do as well, or you will reopen old wounds which have already healed for the boy. To keep this house as a shrine to your former wife only serves to prolong the feeling of loss, for you cannot bring her back. Bring him here, treat it as your home- yours and Harry's, not yours and Lily's. Lily left here long ago."

That familiar feeling of distress was rising, unnerving Severus from deep within. How dare the man suggest something so… accurate? Even Severus had not realized his motives in keeping everything the same, yet the Headmaster had taken it upon himself to deconstruct and correctly identify his intentions.

"I only wanted to preserve that room," Severus argued, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not trying to bring her back; do not think me so foolish."

"Severus, every change I have suggested today you have refused on the grounds that Lily had wanted it that way."

"It feels disrespectful to change everything she did simply because she is deceased," said Severus, crossing his arms. "It has nothing to do with grief."

"I would disagree, but I can't force you to see my point. I can only plead with you not to force Harry to grieve as well; the boy deserves to spend time with you, not thinking of his mother."

Dumbledore didn't stay to watch his words sink in, for Severus' defiant glare at the floor was a telltale sign that he would not consider them until Dumbledore had left. The older man turned and exited, looking back only once. Severus didn't move; he only stood there, piecing through what had been said to him.

xxx

Harry tried not to think of Friday as Dooms Day, but as Wednesday came to a close, Thursday dawned, and Friday drew ever closer, he couldn't help but feel any other way. He didn't know what he was getting himself into. He'd be spending an entire two weeks with Severus Snape. Irritable, territorial, anal-retentive, hot-tempered Severus Snape. The man might as well stamp one of the potions labels onto his forehead: Warning: Highly volatile and corrosive substance. Keep away from flame and wear protective gloves when handling.

On a good day, for a short amount of time, Severus was tolerant enough to make Harry's time spent with him enjoyable. However, Severus' degree of hospitality usually depended on several variables. One, Harry had to comply with his requests and orders with barely any argument. Two, Harry had to keep his hands off anything belonging to Severus unless given permission to do otherwise. Three, Severus had to be in a pleasant mood to start with.

These conditions had been relatively easy to abide by during the few hour intervals the two spent in each other's company. Harry was careful to keep Severus' temper at an all time low, no matter what sacrifices he had to make. However, Harry wasn't sure he would be able to do so during the entirety of his stay at Severus' home.

Harry engrossed himself in pushing his eggs around his breakfast plate; he hadn't much of an appetite. What if Severus decided he was far too annoying, and sent him to the Weasleys' home for the rest of the Holiday? Oh, that would just be… mortifying, especially since Ron had no doubt informed them all of his relationship to Severus.

Rolling his eyes to himself out of annoyance at his own anxiety, Harry watched Ginny and Ron bicker for a few minutes.

"Ron," he broke in, as soon as one of them stopped to take a breath. "Do you know where Hermione is?"

"No, sorry," Ron said distractedly. "But you'll see her in Potions, won't you? Can't you talk to her then?"

Harry nodded silently.

"I think she said something about finishing her Arithmancy homework," Ginny offered helpfully. For a moment, Harry looked at her thoughtfully, wondering if perhaps she could help him… but as she went back to her argument with Ron, he could see that she was far too wrapped up in fervent debate to give him any advice.

He looked across the table to Hermione's empty spot, and gave his sausage a stab.

xxx

It was risky, talking in N.E.W.T. Potions. It was especially risky when the subject Harry most wanted to discuss was Severus. It was riskier still to do so after Severus was already having a minor conniption over a cauldron melting, affected by the same student who'd already done so twice… that week.

Harry didn't know if it was worth it to take his chances.

"Since you seem unable to complete any of these potions without initiating liquescence, explosion, or any other form of utter devastation," Severus hissed angrily to the class, flattening his palms on his desk and leering at them menacingly. "We will abandon all attempts of producing this potion, and you will each write five-hundred words on what not to do when endeavouring to complete the incombustible potion. How you idiots can manage to melt cauldrons while making potions that are supposed to be inflammable is beyond even me!"

Hermione raised her hand, and Severus' head snapped so quickly in her direction that the sickening cracking sound of his neck could be heard across the room. "Put that hand down, you stupid girl! What question could you possibly have at this very moment?"

Harry's jaw almost dropped. Hermione quickly lowered her hand, looking extremely hurt and enormously embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed, and she said tearfully said, "I just wanted to know when it was due."

"End of class," Severus barked, taking in the rest of the class with his cold, dark eyes. "Well? You have one hour; write!"

Along with the rest of the class, Harry and Hermione quickly took out their parchment and quills. Glancing sideways at her tearful face, Harry resolved to wait a bit before asking Hermione about Severus. They quickly got to their essays; Severus was sitting at the front of the classroom, glaring around at each of his students. His gaze rested on Harry for an extra few seconds. He seemed to be warning him not to incur his wrath.

To mask his own infuriation on Hermione's behalf, Harry quickly fixed his vision on the paper in front of him, ignoring the way Severus' eyes continued to linger on him. He hadn't seen Severus explode like this in a long time; he hadn't exactly been nice, in class, but he had been keeping his temper under control.

So, Harry thought to himself, his temper hasn't changed. This is what I'm in for if I seriously piss him off during these next few weeks… lovely.

The only sounds for a long time were the scratching of quills and the occasional hiccup from Hermione, who was still trying to contain her emotions. Harry felt more than a touch of sympathy for her; she had probably expected better treatment, after the time she'd been spending with Severus and Harry on the potion. To be perfectly honest, Harry had expected the same- maybe not for himself, because their secret was being kept quiet, but for Hermione, at least. She hadn't done anything to deserve to be treated like that.

Harry could feel Severus' eyes burning into his skull. He didn't know why the man was gazing in his direction so frequently. Weren't there more interesting things in the class to watch? Or did he know that Harry was angry? Or was he angry with Harry?

Oh, Harry realized as his quill snapped in half. He'd noticed the furious intensity of Harry's writing- that had been the giveaway.

xxx

This holiday wasn't going to be easy. The boy was obviously, though unsurprisingly, still having problems controlling his temper. Severus was sorely tempted to point this out when Harry's quill snapped, sending the pointed end flying off the table to hit the poor, unsuspecting boy in front of him. If he were allowed to sit and fume, eventually there would be an outburst… from either Harry or Severus. There was a good possibility that it would come from both; it was certain that even if Severus wasn't the one to initiate the quarrel, he would be reacting to, and therefore participating in the explosion.

"Potter," Severus said, glaring at the half of a quill now lying on the floor. "I do believe you've dropped something."

"Thank you, sir, I hadn't realized," Harry said flatly, narrowing his eyes and rising to retrieve it.

"I don't much appreciate your tone," Severus drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. The boy didn't get it. He was actually talking back; how could he not realize that was a warning, and just stay quiet? "Ten points from Gryffindor; and I suggest you watch that temper to avoid losing more."

Harry almost retorted that Severus' temper was no better, but bit his tongue. He knew that Severus would not be taking points if not to keep up appearances; nevertheless, he was irritated. Couldn't he have looked the other way and ignored the breaking of his quill? He slanted his gaze towards Hermione, who gave him a barely noticeable shake of the head. His brows lowered; what was that supposed to mean?

Harry raised his eyes to meet Severus. The man's narrowed eyes held an obscure glint, his expression indeterminable, yet vaguely significant. Harry waited for some betrayal of what he was thinking, but none came. He shook his head and refocused his eyes on his work.

Severus watched Harry for a moment as his head dropped again, and then looked away, peering around at the rest of the class. The boy could be shockingly dull-witted, at times. Even Miss Granger, despite her overly sensitive state, had noticed his subtle hinting that Harry needed to rein his anger. It shouldn't have been difficult to figure out that he was no longer playacting; he had said plainly, "watch that temper," and the boy still looked confused about what Severus wanted him to do.

Severus kept his stern gaze wandering around the room for awhile, watching for any student who dared to stop his or her work. He was still deciding whether or not to collect the essays at the end of class; part of him thought that perhaps it would be a worse punishment to make them slave away on their papers for the next hour, and then simply give them all zeroes for the day. Smirking at that thought, he glanced over at Harry's side of the room, the timing perfect to see the boy try discreetly to pull a blank sheet of parchment out from underneath his essay.

Severus' eyes flickered to the ceiling in annoyance; the boy was going to pass a note. He recognized this manoeuvre well. It seemed to have been a favourite to the few students who had been stupid enough to attempt this atrocity right under the Potions Master's over-sized nose… And it had been a very fair few, for it was a little known fact that he considered it to be one of the utmost signs of disrespect (and Severus Snape did not tolerate disrespect well). The only pupils who had been privileged enough to have him overlook their misbehaviour belonged to Slytherin; all other houses beware.

Now, the question was, would he tolerate the act from his son? He knew he had already committed an unforgivable sin in his son's eyes; he'd snapped at and insulted one of his closest friends. Severus had faith that it would take little more than an apology to be forgiven this. However, to attack the boy almost immediately afterwards showed poor judgment; it would take much more to win Harry's true forgiveness after greatly upsetting him twice in the same class period. Severus had hoped for relatively little conflict this Holiday; perhaps this was a time to pick his battles.

Harry wrote something on the piece of parchment and slid it over to Hermione. Through his peripheral vision, Severus watched her face light up with alarm at the notion of note-passing, and glance ever so obviously from the parchment to Severus, checking to see that he wasn't looking. Seemingly assured that he hadn't seen, she glanced at Harry and back down at the note, moving it over the top of her own essay. She scribbled a note under Harry's scrawl and quickly slid it back to him, glancing at Severus again and going back to work.

Severus crossed his arms and looked resolutely the other way; he wouldn't let anyone know he had noticed this little misdemeanour, but he did intend to have a very stern talk with Harry and his little friend at the end of class. He might be more rational than his son had ever expected, but that didn't mean he was any less the wise.

xxx

Good; so far, he hadn't seen. Harry carefully watched his father's face as he received the parchment back from Hermione, who looked positively sickened by the fact that they were passing notes instead of doing their homework. Still, he needed desperately to talk to her, and time was running out. Tonight they would all be packing, and tomorrow afternoon, everyone would be boarding the train. He couldn't take the risk; he needed someone to confess his fears to now, before it was too late. He looked down at the parchment, and pretended to write as he read what she had written.

Harry, everything is going to be fine!

Some advice.

And if it's not?

He glanced at Severus, and slid it over.

If it's not, then you already have my promise that we will be there to relieve you at your very word. It's not as if he's going to mistreat you. What is the worst that can happen?

This, to Harry, seemed to be a very silly question, seeing as how the worst always did happen to him.

What if he gets so fed up with me that he throws me out?

That's not going to happen.

How do you know?

Because he has shown astounding patience with you already. What makes you think that being beyond the confines of the castle will change that? If anything, he will be less stressed and more willing to open up to you.

Ah. Well, she had a good point, Harry had to give it to her there.

Do you really think so?

This seemed unnecessary, yes, but Harry needed to hear more explanation. He supposed he was going to get one, as he watched Hermione scribble furiously over the note, writing what looked to him like the beginnings of a short novel.

I state emphatically, yes. You and he get along well, from what I've seen- I think this holiday will be brilliant… and if not, then you can rest assured that you're not alone. Let's be honest- what you're really getting at is that you are worried you will somehow mess up and push him away. I promise you, that won't happen. You needn't be so guarded; he's not going to dislike you simply because you say the wrong thing at the wrong time. From what you've told me, you two have developed an understanding of sorts. He's not so irrational that he will disregard that at the drop of a hat.

Harry read what she had written twice, and then finally listened to the little voice in the back of his head that told him he needed to get his essay finished. He mouthed a thank you to Hermione and bent over his paper.

Hermione was right, in a sense. Of course, Harry's fears weren't quite quelled, but he was able to reason past them. Hermione hadn't told him anything he hadn't already known; she'd just brought it to his attention.

If anyone understood insecurities and avoidance, it was Severus. Of that, Harry had no doubt… but could it be concluded that he would be an authority on how to treat someone with the same issues?

xxx

Many of the students had come to find that when given the proper motivation, it was quite easy to write such an essay in one hour. Each turned it in at the end of the class, and hurried away from Severus' desk as quickly as possible; the expression on his face was anything but friendly as he received each student's work.

Somewhere at the end of the line, Harry and Hermione waited patiently to hand in their own essays. Neither could determine why his narrowed eyes flickered angrily over them several times, nor why his glare became especially hard once they'd arrived in front of him.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," Severus said coldly, jerkily tugging their work from their hands and curling his lip as he glanced over them. "You may each take a seat on the opposite sides of the room. I should like a few words with you."

Hermione's wide-eyed expression as she looked helplessly at Harry clearly said, I knew note passing was a bad idea.

Harry shrugged apologetically, and glumly took his seat. He wasn't exactly surprised; he had been ignoring all his conscience's warnings in hope that they were wrong. Usually, such ignorance got him into trouble; apparently, this time was no exception.

Harry and Hermione both waited anxiously as Severus filed the essays away for grading; he appeared to be taking a purposely extended amount of time to do so. He finished what he was doing and turned around slowly, eyeing them for a moment before descending fluidly down the few steps of his platform and leaning on one of the tables.

"Tell me," he said slowly, looking between the two of them and holding his gaze on each for several seconds. "Would you say it is acceptable to use the working time that your authorities give you for anything other than work? Miss Granger? You seem to have an answer to every question, why don't you go first?"

"No, sir," she replied, casting her gaze downward and looking ashamed.

"And you, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked, turning his head towards Harry and lifting his eyebrows in false interest.

"No, sir," Harry replied, but unlike Hermione, held the Potions Master's gaze.

He would attempt to show respect without cowering in fear; Severus was grateful for this, as he would not have appreciated being feared by the boy… that was not his intention. Granted, he enjoyed provoking a bit of anxiety, but he did not need or want his own son to be blatantly scared of him.

"Then I demand to know why you felt my class provided the perfect opportunity to pass notes," Severus said in a terrifyingly calm manner, crossing his arms and waiting expressionlessly for their answers. When he received none, he continued. "Is my class such a waste of your time that you feel the need to entertain yourselves? Perhaps you consider yourselves above the assignments I have given you."

"No, please, sir-" Hermione interjected to no avail.

"Silence!" Severus boomed, turning his fierce gaze on her.

Harry thought to himself that Severus was being a bit irrational; hadn't he just asked a question? Hermione had only been trying to answer.

"There is no explanation for such a blatant mockery of the time I put into teaching you little cretins. Your behaviour today was unacceptable, and your blatant lack of remorse is more pitiful still."

"Listen, Severus-"

"In this classroom, under these circumstances, I am Professor to you, Mr. Potter," Severus said coldly. "You might try respecting that. Both of you have earned zeroes on the day's work." Severus turned his back on them and headed for his desk. "You are dismissed."

Hermione's eyes were wide and round as she looked at Harry pleadingly. Harry's face was stuck in a permanent grimace; Severus hadn't used this tone with him in a very long time, and his words had been awful. He felt as though he'd been struck, and as much as he wished to count this as a violation on Severus' part, he realized that he had been taking advantage of their relationship. He had taken for granted that he would have Severus' favour; what he hadn't taken into account was that he was somehow showing Severus that he had lost respect for him. While Severus had allowed him to spar verbally with him from time to time, and had allowed him many freedoms and informalities, he was still Harry's teacher.

"Professor," Harry said quietly, causing Severus to still and stiffly turn his neck. "It was my fault. If you're going to give a zero to someone, give it to me."

"I watched Miss Granger take the note, Mr. Potter. She is every bit as guilty as you are."

"Sir, I'm sorry- I just… I needed to…"

"What was so important that it could not wait until later, Potter?" Severus snapped, rather irritated that the boy kept trying to make excuses. When would he take responsibility for his actions?

Harry remained silent and looked at the floor. He was boxed in, and could see no way out.

"Perhaps," Severus said slowly, stepping forward, "You would like to trade punishments?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked cautiously, frowning.

"Hand over the note, and I will grant you credit on your essays," Severus said, smirking and crossing his arms. He knew what he was doing. He would not be accused of forcing his way into Harry's life, or prying, but he did not like to be left in the dark.

Hermione bit her lip and looked to Harry, realizing that they were in a lose-lose situation. Harry returned her worried gaze and fought the urge to bite his own lip; if he showed Severus that note, he would be risking a lot of the trust that they had built up over time. However, he knew Hermione couldn't take the blow to her grade- she had the only outstanding in the class, and loss of credit would ruin that for her. He couldn't be so selfish as to ruin her grade when he had brought her into this mess.

Severus stepped forward and extended his hand, gesturing for Harry to hand over the note. "What will it be, Mr. Potter?"

Harry lowered his gaze defeatedly, an unpleasant churning feeling developing in his stomach. Taking one last look at Hermione's desperate expression, he reached into his bag and pulled out the parchment. He gazed at it for a moment, and then wordlessly handed it to Severus.

Severus' eyes roamed over the parchment for a moment, his features remaining stonily in place. Harry diverted his eyes from the older man, willing himself to look anywhere except at his face. He didn't want to see his reaction. He didn't care about the forewarning he might receive from any of his facial expressions; he couldn't bear it if he saw disappointment and betrayal in his father's normally cool black gaze.

"Miss Granger, please see yourself out," Severus said after several minutes. "I wish to speak privately with Harry."

Harry stole a glance at Hermione, who furrowed her brow worriedly and lifted her bag over her shoulder. As discreetly as possible, she gave Harry an understanding, grateful half smile as she stepped out the door.

Severus watched her leave, and turned back to Harry. The boy refused to hold eye contact with him. He moved down to Harry's desk and rested his tall form against it, staring with intensity at the boy in front of him.

He held up the parchment. Harry winced as he began to read his first statement out loud. "'I'm worried about the upcoming break, Hermione," Severus began quoting evenly, his voice neither harsh nor soft. "'My father and I get along well here, but he has such an awful temper that I'm not sure that will last once we leave the school grounds. Not to mention how finicky he is about his stuff. What do I do?'" Severus finished reading and lowered the parchment, looking at Harry with an almost wounded frown. "Is this really how you feel?"

Harry could not remember ever having felt as truly horrible as he did in this moment, nor could he recall ever having seen Severus look so betrayed. For several minutes, he could not say anything for fear that the clenching feeling that had developed in his chest would cease, and he would express his sorrow in other, less manly ways. He wanted to apologize profusely, but he doubted that would solve anything on either side. His fear would still be there, and Severus would still feel every bit as betrayed as he did now.

"It's not at all that I think you are undependable or… irrational, or anything. It's just… I can't explain it!" Harry looked up at Severus apologetically, frustrated by the refusal of his brain to form his feelings into words. "Maybe… I don't know. Even the nicest people get angry when I'm around… it's like I can't do anything right. Here at school, it's fine… but part of me thinks that's because you've only had to put up with me in small doses. What happens when you have to be around me all the time?"

Severus looked at Harry skeptically for a moment, wondering if he'd heard right. Was this really a time when the age-old line, "it's not you, it's me," was true? Did Harry really think he was the problem? Surely the boy could realize that Severus' temper was to blame for their past quarrels; even Severus had come to terms with this, and he was not a man who often admitted to being wrong.

"Harry," Severus said with difficulty, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. He did not speak after that; he gazed at a spot over Harry's head, searching for words.

"The Dursleys were nice people until I came along. They always loved Dudley… maybe it's just because I'm unlovable. Maybe I really am… dark, or something, and I just… cause hate in people… Maybe the prophecy meant that I would be greater than Voldemort- maybe that's why he came to kill me. I caused my parents deaths, I caused Sirius's death… maybe those are just steps on the pathway to-"

"Or maybe you're just difficult," Severus interrupted him, tightening his grip on Harry's shoulder. "Congratulations, you've inherited my trademark quality."

"But-"

"First of all, you didn't cause anyone's death. Their deaths were the work of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, no one else. The Dursleys were vile and prejudiced and acted out on their hatred of magic; it wasn't you. I was consumed by a grudge and a pain that I should have let go of years ago… and you never proved my assumptions wrong because I never let you. You are not evil in any shape or form Harry, nor are you unlovable. If you want my honest opinion, you are stubborn, headstrong, and have a guilt complex the size of Great Britain." Severus paused, and softened his tone. "You also have a good heart, good intentions, and a penchant for saving people, even if they don't deserve it. These are not traits to be ashamed of."

"You make it sound like I'm perfect or something. I'm not perfect; I have a lot more faults than I think you realize."

"I will not abandon you," Severus said quietly.

Harry blinked, and said, "What?"

"I will not abandon you. Given your history, I cannot blame you for feeling that I will. Despite your shortcomings, you are my son, and nothing will make me send you away. You need to believe that."

"I-"

"Do you think I would lie to you about a thing like that?"

"No…"

"You need more assurance?"

"No- just- how do you know if you've never tried before?"

Severus quirked one side of his mouth. "Harry, you managed to force my feelings towards you from vehement hatred to… something quite resembling fondness… I do care for you, I hope you know that. I don't say it often, but I do. Do you understand how that change came about?"

Harry shrugged and shook his head a little. "No."

"You opened up. You let me see the real you; don't worry so much about the impression you are making."

"But you haven't seen me at my worst!"

"I could argue that."

Harry growled in frustration and dropped his head back, causing Severus to give a small laugh.

"Let me explain this way," Severus said, folding his arms. "I can tolerate that which I understand. I certainly understand difficult people; I understand bitterness, anger, irrationality, anger… I don't always react in the ideal way… but I do try to consider when I myself have calmed down. I'm sure we will have our disagreements, and it is doubtful that our arguments will be anywhere within the realm of minor… but we will resolve our problems, I have faith in that, and I will not become…" he lifted the note and sighed, quoting, "'Fed up' with you."

Harry nodded, looking down at the floor. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he felt reassured all the same.

"You should be leaving," Severus said after a moment, looking at the door. "Lunch is being served, and you seem to skip far too many meals."

"Yeah, well… so?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow and said, "I'm beginning to think that you enjoy being lectured."

Harry shrugged noncommittally. In reality, Severus was close to the truth. Though the lecturing could be a bit annoying, at times, he still appreciated that someone was genuinely concerned about him. He gathered his things and started towards the door.

Before exiting, Harry paused abruptly, turning and saying, "Sir?"

Looking up from his desk, Severus nodded silently to Harry, signalling him to continue.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, blushing slightly. He meant the apology for both the use of the title, and for the note, but did not say as much. "And… Thank you… Dad."

Severus' expression took on a new look of surprise; Harry cocked his head to the side, seemingly deciding how he liked the title. After a moment, he smiled slightly and nodded to himself. "Yeah- Thanks."

He continued nodding, and slipped out the door.

Severus closed his eyes in relief. He had not needed to prod the title out of him… and he'd not had to endure the tension that was likely to manifest in the room after its first few uses. Overall… he would call this meeting a success.

xxx

On Friday afternoon, Harry headed down to the platform with his friends to see them off. He listened to Ron and Ginny's excited chatter about seeing all their older brothers; they both seemed a bit lonely, Fred and George having left the school. Hermione talked unceasingly about visiting her new baby cousin, revealing a small soft spot for infants. And Harry… Harry just smiled. He was content to listen to their happy talk, their expectancies for the Holidays, their small complaints about the downfalls of seeing the family… whatever. He was just happy that, for once, he had somewhere to go.

There was little time for goodbyes, as they had taken their time getting down to the train, so Harry had to limit his time with each person.

"Harry," Hermione said warmly, the first to wrap her arms around his thin body. "I'll write you over the break, and hopefully I'll see you more than once. Mum and Dad want me to stay at the house for Boxing Day, but I'm going to see if they won't let me go. Remember, just send word if you need our company."

Harry nodded and gave his thanks, then turned to Ron. The two clasped hands briefly, and Ron smiled. Thankfully, he didn't say anything idiotic about Severus; he settled for a quick, "Good luck, mate. I'll be seeing you on Boxing Day."

"Okay, Ron," Harry said, smiling. He turned to Ginny, and was shocked to find himself in her embrace before he'd had a chance to say anything.

"I also hope I'll see you more than once, but in the case that we don't, I'll just say I'm looking forward to seeing you at the Burrow." She paused and pulled back, looking to be carefully choosing her words, and then said, "I'm glad for you, Harry, that you've got the Professor now. I think this will be a good Holiday for you." She smiled. "Happy Christmas!"

Harry nodded and gave her a genuinely grateful smile. "To you too, Ginny."

Once the three had departed, Harry left his spot on the platform and found McGonagall, whom he uncomfortably joined in watching the Gryffindors file onto the train. She gave him a knowing look, seemingly understanding that he was uncomfortable with the idea of walking up to his father in the midst of all the students… some knew of their relationship, but as far as he knew, few accepted it. His Slytherins wouldn't dare say a word, and most of them quite admired the man… but he knew of a few who would turn up their noses, or even throw a hex, at the sight of them standing together.

It was about fifteen minutes before the platform was completely clear of students and the train began to whistle. He stayed by McGonagall's side, watching as it pulled away. As it disappeared into the distance he turned to her to say something, but stopped short when she moved her eyes to something behind him and smiled.

"Are you ready to depart, Harry?" asked a deep voice from behind him. Harry grinned and turned around, nodding.

"Sure," he said, glancing up at the castle. "I'll just need to get my stuff from the Common Room."

Severus nodded and glanced at Minerva, who had an annoyingly delighted smile on her face. She was still as tight lipped and sharply featured as ever, but he hadn't seen her so pleased in… well, it came close to the expression she took on whenever Gryffindor won anything, but he had always viewed that more as smugness than anything.

"Well, I'll let you finish up here," Severus said, gesturing to McGonagall. "Meet me down in my office when you're finished."

Harry shook his head. "I'll walk back up to the castle with you, just one minute."

Looking pleased, Severus nodded and moved to the door, halting just outside it.

Harry exchanged a brief goodbye with Professor McGonagall, who reiterated the fact that he only need write her should he need anything. He thanked her and ran to join his father, who looked as though he were trying to mask his displeasure at having to wait so long.

"Sorry," Harry said a bit breathlessly as he reached Severus. "I tried to be quick."

Severus waved his hand dismissively, and then, apparently distracted by the state of Harry's hair, batted at the unruly strands sticking out on the top. "You are in need of a haircut," he said, half to himself, as he lifted one side of his nose into what Harry might call a thoughtful sneer.

"Oh, that's rich," Harry proclaimed, batting at Snape's own locks and laughing when the older man jumped back.

"Do not touch my hair," Severus said, looking appalled that he would even attempt as much. Harry found this rather amusing, given the topic, but hid his smirk and looked away.

It did not take long for Harry to gather his things from the common room and head down to Severus' office. Severus greeted him with the half smile Harry had come to associate with him, and moved Harry's luggage over to where his sat.

"Professor Dumbledore has offered to transfer our belongings to the house," Severus said, gesturing to the small pile. "I thought perhaps it would be best if we walked from the nearest muggle town."

Harry screwed up his face confusedly. "Why?"

"I'd like you to get a bearing on your surroundings," Severus explained. "Our home is extremely safe; both Dumbledore and I have placed warding on it, and as the Fidelus charm protects it as well, few could wait for you there. Few even know it exists. In the coming years, you may find yourself in need of a safe place to go at a moment's notice. I would like this to be an option to you, but you'll need to get a sense of its location in order to apparate there."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling rather unintelligent.

"Now," Severus said, tactfully ignoring Harry's embarrassment. "There is one floo connection in this town, and to use it, we will have to enter the home of one Nymphadora Tonks."

Harry frowned and tipped his head to the side, but Severus continued before he could ask questions. "I haven't time to explain right now; we can only keep this connection open so long. I will go through, check that all is well, and return. You will then leave and I will follow."

"I really don't think that's necessary," Harry started, shaking his head.

"Well, as I am in charge, it is what I think that matters. And I happen to find it quite necessary indeed. I shall be back momentarily," he said, ducking into the fireplace. "If I have not returned within five minutes, do not follow. Alert the Headmaster or Minerva, whomever you should stumble upon first."

"Wh- I- er- how-"

Before Harry could get any coherent words out, however, Severus had disappeared in a burst of green flame, leaving Harry alone in his office. Harry looked blankly around, unsure what had just occurred. Why were they going to Tonks' house? Why was Severus so worried? Was there something going on that, once again, Harry had been left out of? Frustrated and bewildered, Harry sank to the floor and crossed his legs, propping his head up with both hands.

It wasn't long before Severus reappeared, hurriedly motioning for Harry to go through. Harry didn't have time to argue; he shouted his destination and allowed himself to be whisked away from the castle. It only occurred to him afterwards that the Severus who had stepped through the fireplace could really be anyone… Harry would have never known, since he hadn't even said anything.

With relief, Harry found himself being spit out at the feet of a giddily smiling Tonks. He looked up at her, spit the soot out of his mouth, and grinned toothily. She laughed and helped him up, dusting off his shoulders and embracing him in a friendly hug. She pulled back and pointed at his mouth.

"You've got something in your teeth there, Harry," she informed him, laughing again and handing him a handkerchief.

"Oh," Harry muttered embarrassedly, turning a delicate shade of rose and accepting it. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Tonks said, patting him on the back and turning to greet Severus, who had just made a far more graceful landing than Harry had achieved.

Glad neither of them was looking at him, Harry raised her proffered napkin to his mouth and wiped his teeth, wincing at the sight of the black ashes that came off onto the white cloth.

"We can't stay long, Nymphadora," Severus said, moving from her to Harry. "But we thank you for allowing us to use your fireplace."

Tonks put her hands on her hips and glared at the tall dark man, shaking her bubblegum pink head. "First of all, if you are going to insist on calling my Nymphadora, then I will insist on calling you Sevvy, and I doubt either of us truly wants that. However, I am willing to sacrifice my pride and fight fire with fire, if that is what it takes. Secondly, I hope you won't keep Harry locked away all Holiday; I would like to see him at one point."

"Rest assured, Nymphadora, that I have no intention of locking Harry anywhere." He shook his head and turned to Harry, saying so that Tonks could easily hear, "The lack of respect I receive from these people is abysmal."

Harry wondered briefly whom he meant when he said 'these people' but decided not to ask.

"Well," Tonks said exasperatedly, straightening her posture. "I won't keep you any longer." She gave Harry a warm smile. "Goodbye Harry," she said. "I hope to be seeing you soon. And you," she addressed Severus in an irritatingly sweet voice, as though addressing a very small child. "Try to get some sleep and rid yourself of that horrible caffeine addiction. This irritability you seem so prone to may diminish somewhat."

"I do not have a caffeine addiction," Severus growled, looking repulsed as she opened her arms wide.

"Whatever you say!" She said cheerily, wrapping her arms around him as he stiffened and winking at Harry. "Goodbye, Sev."

"Insufferable," was all Severus muttered as he was finally released. He looked at Harry, jerked his head towards the door, and stalked towards it. Harry supposed this meant he was supposed to follow, and quickly.

"Bye, Tonks," he whispered, waving his hand and smiling brightly. Severus' irascible attitude no longer scared him; quite the opposite, it rather amused him.

Harry had to struggle to keep up with Severus as they walked through the town. They were already on the outskirts when they arrived, but there was still quite a bit of distance between this area and the house… or at least, Harry supposed. He had never been there, so he really couldn't judge.

Slowly, the signs of civilization faded. Harry knew he was in trouble when the dirt pathway ended and a long, hilly field of overgrown grass and weeds stretched before them.

"It's not much farther," Severus promised him as they walked. "This is little more than an illusion. You would be able to see the house already if you knew where it was; however, I would prefer to wait until we are within the warding to show you."

"Okay," Harry agreed. This made sense; everything was out of their control until they made it to the house.

Harry was rather confused when Severus stopped in the middle of the field, seemingly pantomiming unlocking and opening a large gate. Harry frowned as Severus gestured for him to step through… step through something. Harry raised an eyebrow as he did so, but immediately understood when Severus handed him a small slip of paper.

Severus Snape and Harry Potter reside in the manor located outside of Flintshire, Wales, 1629 Dyserth Ln.

Harry could almost feel the surrounding atmosphere ripple as his eyes scanned the address. He squeezed his eyes shut at the overwhelming sense of power this area now exuded; the combination of Severus' and Dumbledore's warding and the magic the Fidelus charm utilized to reveal the area to him had a daunting effect.

"You can open your eyes, Harry," Severus said gently from his side, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry nodded and opened his eyes, lifting his head to inspect the house and grounds he now found himself in front of.

A dirt pathway with a smattering of large, flat stepping stones led up to the house. At the doors, it turned into grey brick, and divided to circle the house. Surrounded by the abandoned garden, the path there was overgrown by weeds and snarled plants, obviously not having been touched in years. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen dead plants look so menacing.

The front of the house and its surroundings were a dreary sight. The house was no mansion or castle, but it was undeniably large and quite foreboding. The entire house was dark, with a high, sloping black roof which placed a shadow over the entire front. Rectangular, with one half jutting out farther than the other and containing one heavy set of iron doors, it was made of a dark grey stone, parts of which had been overtaken by unruly patches of ivy. From the arrangement of the windows, Harry could guess that the house had three levels; the ones on the top level were worn and unfurnished, aside from the dark curtains that hung to guard the inside from light and keep prying eyes where they belonged.

"Don't let the outside frighten you," Severus said heavily, watching Harry's face. "Trust that Lily did all she could to balance its outer dark aspects with a sort of inner light." Harry made a face, and Severus waved him off, saying, "You'll see what I mean."

Severus pulled the doors open and led Harry into a sort of entryway. It was mostly empty, aside from one table and a large mirror hanging above it. Under his feet was a dark, glossy wood floor; he noticed with interest that it turned into a more narrow hallway made of the same floor, but with different walls.

"I think," Severus said, looking around, "that now would be the most opportune time to show you around the house."

Harry nodded. "You said it was a manor before," he pointed out as Severus led him down the hall. Its bottom half was panelled in the same wood as the floor was made from; the top half was painted in a deep shade of green. "Do you call it… Snape Manor, or… something?"

Severus turned his upper lip and frowned. "My father did. I simply call it 'the house'. It seems a bit pretentious to name a house after oneself, if you ask me."

Harry smiled in concurrence; he quite agreed. "So nothing like the Malfoy Manor, then?"

Severus gave an exaggerated scoff. "Well, their house is much larger than mine, and quite a bit more opulant This one, for instance, contains only three floors. Theirs contains five… and they have wings. The Western Wing, The Eastern Wing… you can imagine. Lucius was always quite obnoxious about his possessions; he had a name for every room in that house."

"Oh," said Harry. "Did you grow up here?"

"No," Severus answered shortly, abruptly changing topic. "This is the kitchen."

Harry was indeed surprised when he stepped into this room, for several reasons. For one, he would have expected Severus to have a formal dining room, to which house elves would bring meals. He knew that Severus owned one elf, whom he had not yet met.

"Your mother was adamant that we should turn this into a kitchen, rather than a dining room," Severus explained, looking both fond and annoyed at the same time. "She said it was her favourite room back at home."

Harry smiled at that thought, and gazed around the room. "I remember this," he said quietly, moving to run a hand over the taupe coloured countertops. Just as in his dream, the walls were a pale yellow, and the cabinets and cupboards were all white. He turned around and noticed that the same oak table with the white frame sat in the middle of the room.

"How do you remember this?" Severus asked, frowning and looking down at him through narrowed eyes.

"Those dreams I was having before," Harry started. "One of them took place in this kitchen. I had forgotten about it until now."

Severus didn't respond; he leaned against the doorframe.

"We can move on, if you'd like," Harry said after a moment. "I'm sure you don't want to spend your whole day in the kitchen."

Severus quirked his lips. "You assume correctly; allow me to call the house elf, and then we will move on."

Harry raised an eyebrow, unsure whether or not he wanted to meet this elf. If it was anything like Kreacher… Harry shuddered, and hoped it would be something more akin to Dobby.

"Tibby!" Severus shouted.

"Tibby?" Harry questioned, smirking.

"Well, I didn't name it," Severus replied, giving him a dark look.

"Yes, Master Snape?" A small, worried looking elf appeared at the doorway. She was sweet looking, and had a soft, innocent voice. She was on the border of being timid, but not so much that she appeared frightened of Severus. Harry hoped his father didn't treat house elves as badly as many other wizards… that just wouldn't sit well with him.

"This is Harry, my son," Severus told the elf, gesturing to Harry.

"Master Harry," Tibby greeted him, nodding and curtseying low.

"You are to answer to his calls, and obey him," Severus said, looking Harry over. "Though use discretion… this one is a trouble maker."

"Excuse me," Harry replied, looking offended.

Severus smirked and looked back at the elf. "You may disregard my last remark."

The elf nodded, but said nothing more. She stood there, awaiting orders.

"Is there anything you would need right now, Harry?" Severus questioned, knowing that the boy would feel odd ordering the elf around on his first day.

"Umm… no," Harry said, shaking his head. He was going to have to get used to the feeling of having a house elf around- she just stood there, blinking at him, almost confused about why he did not want her services at the moment.

"Very well," Severus replied. "Tibby, you are dismissed until further notice."

"Will masters be wanting supper, tonight?" she asked, looking up at Severus. Harry watched her eyes grow wider, and realized that she had been alone in this house for a very long time… she was hoping to have someone to take care of.

"You will be notified," Severus said, nodding.

Tibby nodded and curtseyed again, abruptly removing herself from the room afterwards.

"You're umm… nice to her, aren't you?" Harry questioned worriedly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Well I'm not cruel, but we're not good friends, if that's what you're asking. She's obedient, and quiet. I like that in an elf, so I see no reason to mistreat her."

Harry supposed this was a better answer than others he might have received.

"I will show you the parlour," Severus said now, stepping out into the hallway. "But we will rarely be in there. It's more for appearances than anything."

Harry could see why this was a room one would not want to spend much time in. It was so stringently neat it was unbearable, almost. It looked like the sort of room only a woman could enjoy; Harry supposed his mother had decorated it. The floor was a light wood, a majority of which was covered by a camel colored area rug, swirled with black and blue. The furniture was white, and a small white oak coffee table sat in the middle, adorned with a vase of flowers, two crystal figures of kneeling children, a bowl of potpourri, and several empty picture frames. Harry wondered briefly if Severus had been the one to take the photos out.

"I don't like this room," Severus said bluntly, moving through another door on the opposite side. "This is the sitting room I spent most of my time in. It was sort of a compromise; I couldn't handle it if the entire house was bright and cheery."

"Merlin forbid," Harry agreed in a serious tone, though he could not hide his smirk. Severus gave him a little shove.

Harry followed him into a much darker version of the previous room. The furniture throughout the room was made of a dark, rich wood, and the couches were covered with dark grey upholstery; they still weren't the black leather couches Severus had most likely fought for, but Harry could tell that his mother had tried to give him some of the gloomy atmosphere he liked… without making it unbearably gloomy for herself.

"I like this room better as well," Harry found himself informing Severus. He could see himself getting up in the morning and planting himself in this room. With the drapes open, it probably wouldn't be as dark.

"I'm glad," Severus said, sounding genuinely so. This surprised Harry; he wouldn't have expected Severus to care what he thought of his home.

They left this room and continued down the hallway. On the way, Severus pointed out the washroom and coatroom and the washroom, but didn't take Harry inside to inspect either. Harry wasn't disappointed.

Once inside the house, it didn't seem as large as it had from the outside. There was one hallway, which was set on a sort of curve so that it could carry one throughout the house without becoming another passage. On the outside of the curving point was a small, circular room; and alcove, really, as it was door-less. Here, a spiralling iron staircase, the same dark colour as the great iron door leading into the house, wound up to reach each of the three floors. It reminded Harry a bit of the staircase leading up to the Divination tower, only not as large.

Severus walked Harry past the stairs and down the hall, at the end of which was a singular wooden door.

"The library," Severus said, as he pushed open the door. "Also referred to as the study; you may call it whatever you like."

Harry stepped inside and looked around. This was truly (at this point) the most impressive room in the house. It was built on a curve similar to the form of the hallway, only wider and facing the opposite direction. It was done entirely in dark cherry wood; the texture and colour of the floors, furniture, and bookshelves blended so well that had Harry not known any better, he might have thought they were all carved from the same tree. The drapes over the windows and colour of the various chairs and fabrics was a deep midnight blue; it was not so dark that it could be mistaken for black, but it wasn't bright enough to overwhelm the senses. The walls were a lighter shade, accented with tones of grey.

In the section of the room farthest from the door was an entire wall of books, which extended as far as the ceiling would allow. There was even a moving ladder attached to the shelves, Harry noted. There were two desks; two separate study areas; one on the right side of the door, near the wall, and one to the left of the door and around the wall. They were adequately separated by another row of bookshelves which stuck out from the wall, reminding Harry of Hogwart's library.

"Why are there two desks?" Harry asked, looking up at Severus.

"Lily and I both needed a study, but she wanted to keep the room upstairs open in case… in case we had children," he explained unsmilingly, looking down at his hands as he said the last part. "We decided this room was large enough to section off; she and I also shared the habit of talking through our thought processes when they became increasingly unclear, and found that we often seemed to complete the each other's logic. This was quite convenient. I debated turning this room into a larger library with only one study area… but I thought perhaps you could make use of it."

Harry's mouth fell agape at this; for some reason, that Severus would offer to share this room with him, as he had with Lily, seemed profound. "Tha- thank you," Harry stuttered out, looking around. "Are you sure I won't be bothering you?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find some way to do that," Severus said, smirking. He softened his voice. "But I don't mind."

"Well… thanks," Harry said again, looking around. "Which desk do I use?"

Severus pointed to the right and said, "That one."

"Can I use those books?"

Severus considered this for a moment, strolling to the farthest end of the library. He peered at the titles for a few moments, moving along the wall, and finally sighed. "You may use anything you can reach without use of the ladder," he said, turning around and crossing his arms. "However, anything that looks remotely questionable, you will ask me about first. The books dividing the two studies are all standard; you could pick them up at any bookshop, so you may use those."

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding. This sounded fair enough to him.

"Come," Severus said, striding past Harry and out into the hallway again. "I'll show you your room, and where I sleep in the case that you should ever need to wake me during the night. Our rooms are conveniently separated only by a small corridor which may be accessed from only our rooms."

Harry thought this was quite cool, but thought he'd sound rather juvenile saying such a thing. "What else is upstairs?"

"Anything I do not show you, do not investigate," Severus said.

Harry winced. "Well, how many rooms are you planning on not showing me?"

Severus slanted his dark eyes toward the boy. "Harry-"

"I'm sorry!" Harry exclaimed exasperatedly, shutting up after that. He had just been wondering exactly how many temptations he was going to have to resist.

Severus volunteered nothing as he led Harry up the dark staircase, but Harry continued asking questions.

"How do you keep your feet from making any noise on the stairs?" Harry asked in amazement. His own feet didn't make any noise, either, but he was wearing rubber soled trainers; Severus was wearing hard black boots.

"Silencing charms," Severus explained. "Do you believe that I would enjoy hearing you or anyone else clanging up and down the stairs all day- or night- long?"

"Well, my shoes don't make that much noise," Harry said defensively, looking down at his own feet.

"Yes, but Professor Dumbledore is just as fond of boots as I am, and he has promised to visit a great deal," Severus said, unable to keep that edge of annoyance out of his voice. He wasn't irritated by Harry's questions so much as amused; it was the thought of Albus frequenting his house that aggravated him. They reached the top of the stairs, and stepped into the hallway. Severus pointed to his right and said, "My room is the one down the hall, right there. Yours is down here."

"Has he really?" Harry asked, referring to Dumbledore, as Severus led him down the hallway. "For any reason, or…?"

"I think he's rather worried about you, actually," Severus said unappreciatively, raising an eyebrow.

Harry scoffed at this. "Oh, so now he cares how I'm treated," he said, rolling his eyes. "Sixteen years late, but I suppose it's the thought that counts."

Severus almost laughed at the sardonic tone of Harry's voice, but hardly thought Harry would appreciate his amusement.

"This," Severus said as they reached a great wall of glass windows, "Is the balcony. The glass door is in the middle; just look for the handle- there you go. It sits directly above the library; you might be aware of whether the windows are open before you carry on any sensitive conversations up here."

"Well, it's not like I'll be talking," Harry said.

"You will be if someone else is here."

"I can have my friends over?"

Severus raised his eyebrows and huffed in aggravation. "I've already told you that you may."

"I guess I just… forget," Harry admitted. "I'm not used to having that privilege."

"Understandable," Severus conceded. "Let us move on; I'll show you your room."

The two turned a corner and walked the short distance to Harry's room. They had passed only two doors on their way; Harry also noticed that there was still a lack of portraits… he had come to expect them in Wizarding homes.

Harry was surprised to find that all of his possessions had already been unpacked when he arrived. The room was done in warm tones, with mixtures of blue and gold. The floors and furniture were made of sequoia; gold drapes hung from the windows and from the bedposts on Harry's full-sized bed.

"It's lovely," Harry said sincerely, moving into the room and moving around the open space. He stopped at the window, admiring the way the light fell through and lit up the room. He hadn't expected it to be so… comfortable… homey, maybe that was the word. "I think this is the first Gryffindor colour I've seen in the place," he teased, sitting on the bed and turning his head to smile at Severus.

Severus inclined his head to the side, glad Harry liked his room. "The walls were previously silver, but I thought perhaps you would like something as warm as the Gryffindor common room… I could never handle the obnoxious maroon colour your house is known for, however, so blue seemed a better option."

"Wait… you did this?" Harry asked, widening his eyes and looking around. Every other room had been done by Lily, from what Harry had been told. And this was so… nice. He never would have suspected that Severus would have taken the time to do this for him, let alone do it so well.

"I did," Severus admitted, avoiding eye contact and looking around the room with feigned interest. "I must have learned something from Lily."

Harry laughed quietly and ran his hand over the duvet. "Thanks, Dad," he said softly, turning around just in time to catch the look on Severus' face.

"You're welcome," Severus said, inclining his head. Eager to take the focus off of himself, he pointed to the door across the room. "That door leads to my room. Should you ever need me, do not hesitate to come. I will keep that entrance unlocked, but knock before you enter. This door right here," he said, gesturing the other door just a few feet from the entrance in which he stood, "leads to your own washroom."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, still looking around the room. "I have a question," he said hesitantly, turning to Severus.

"And that is?"

Harry frowned hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck. "Is this… this room… am I going to be able to come back here?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Do you mean to ask if this is your permanent room?"

"Well, in a way… yes," Harry said, nodding.

Severus murmured thoughtfully to himself, moving to sit on the bed. "I am unsure whether Albus will allow you to live here during the summer. From what he has indicated thus far… he wishes you to return to the Dursleys. Even as I am your father, the blood magic will only protect you where someone with your mother's blood dwells. However, you may rest assured that you will always be welcome here, and this room will always be kept for you. It is yours."

"I don't want to go back there," Harry said quietly, leaning against the wall.

"Nor do I want that for you," Severus agreed, rising from the bed. "But your safety is more important than either of our wishes."

"Yeah," Harry breathed shortly, pushing off from the wall and abruptly leaving the room. "Let's just continue the tour, shall we?" he called from the hallway.

Severus tipped his head back in frustration and rose from the bed. "Listen," he said, following Harry out into the hallway. "Don't get short with me. You know I wouldn't let you go back there if it could be avoided."

"I know you wouldn't!" Harry exclaimed, stopping and spinning around. "But I'm sure Dumbledore could have found other ways to protect me without sending me there. And he can sit around and make all these excuses and everyone will go along with them because he is the "Great Albus Dumbledore", the "Only Wizard Voldemort Ever Feared"… and I am just the boy-who-lived, and as long as they keep me alive long enough to solve their problems, anything goes. Do you understand how frustrating that is?"

"I can imagine, yes," Severus said in subdued tones, treading carefully.

"I guess it can't be helped. It's not like I still really blame him all that much… I mean, that wouldn't really accomplish anything. I just… I wish it hadn't been me."

"We all wish that at one point or another in our lives," Severus said, tilting his head to the side and scrutinizing Harry's sour expression closely. "You don't think I said the same thing at least a hundred times when I was young? When I grew up, even? No matter whom you are or what your destiny is, you will always have difficulties, and you can never wish them away. Trying to do so only wastes time. I can sympathize, Harry, but I suggest you move on from this point. The sooner you fully accept it, the sooner you can become the wizard that will defeat Voldemort."

Harry shook his head. "I have accepted it-"

"No, you haven't," Severus countered, shaking his head. "You've accepted that the prophecy is true. You haven't accepted that there is no reason why it was you- you are still searching for some answer, or some way out. You won't find one. I can guarantee very few things, but that is one of them. You will never find any clear, logical answer to these questions."

Harry stared defiantly at Severus, who arched an eyebrow, daring him to argue. Shifting his jaw to the side, he let out a sigh. "Third floor, then?"

Severus continued to stare at him with that one raised eyebrow, prompting Harry to let out an agitated, "What?"

"I think we can cover that tomorrow," Severus said after a moment. "Let's have dinner, and then perhaps we can go through the library and pick out some materials to begin covering."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You are maneuvering me," he proclaimed decidedly, pointing his finger condemningly at Severus.

"If you want to think of it that way, fine," Severus said as though he couldn't care less, knowing that Harry was looking for some sort of reaction. The boy wanted to have a reason to argue; he couldn't find a way to disprove what Severus had said about his need for acceptance, so he wanted to win at another argument. Severus, however, was not going to let their Holiday start out with a significant quarrel. "Is there anything you had in mind?"

"Wait- what?"

"In mind for dinner," Severus clarified.

"Oh- no," Harry said, crossing his arms. "Actually, I'm not hungry. I think I'll go to bed."

"Yes, they did serve a rather heavy food today at Hogwarts," Severus said, purposely missing his point. "I think I'll settle down for the night as well."

He was blatantly avoiding an argument, Harry realized. He could tell; the man was almost amused! This was outrageous. He was being handled. He didn't want to be handled, to be seen as a child who needed to be distracted from his anger, rather than have it dealt with.

"I don't much appreciate this, Severus," he said, not realizing how petulant he sounded until it came out.

"If you want to be treated like an adult," Severus said, stepping closer. "Then act like one. Until then, 'this' will continue. I am not going to sit here and argue with you. I've given you my opinion. Do with it what you want, but don't hold it against me."

Harry glared at him for a minute, then gave a grudging, "Fine… can I just see the third floor?"

"Are you going to stop this behaviour?"

"…maybe…"

"Harry…"

"Yes! Okay? Yes!"

Severus gave a groan and lifted his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching back the headache that was starting to form there. "You are acting like a five year old."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you- Harry!"

Severus' nostrils flared, and his lips pressed thin in frustration. Dumbledore had told him before departure that Harry might try to push the limits, just to see how far Severus would really let him go, but he had never suspected regression to such an immature level. He had certainly never tried this trick as a child.

"Fine," Harry said a moment later. "I'm sorry. Really. Can we just… pretend this didn't happen?"

It was an pitiful apology. Severus had doubts as to whether or not the boy really even meant it… but for the sake of his poor aching head and slowly degenerating level of sanity, he would accept it.

"I suppose," Severus complied tiredly. "Come, I'll show you the third floor."

"Am I to ignore all the other rooms on this level?"

"I won't take you into them, but I suppose I can sate your curiosity," Severus said as they headed for the staircase. "The one back there used to be the room Lily used for her study of ancient white magic… it's best that you don't enter there. It could not be salvaged; at least, not without several days of work."

"Salvaged… how was it ruined?"

"I… well, I was very angry when I was told that you were Potter's son… she left, and I… I needed something to vent my anger on. Her favourite room, complete with many breakable objects, seemed a good option at the time. Looking back on it I realize I was incredibly foolish to enter such a room and destroy with such rage… but at that point, I felt I had little to lose.

"This room is our old bedroom… I wish to keep it closed off, for obvious reasons."

Harry nodded and tried very hard not to imagine anything about those obvious reasons.

The third floor was like a very large attic of sorts; there was no hallway- rather, a small room with a door, which led into a larger room which seemed to take up half the house. There were many doors around the room, most of which had counters and tables blocking them. Only small amounts of light could stream in from the small, semi-circular windows near the low, slanted ceiling; all other light was provided by the torches mounted on the walls. Actually, the room quite reminded Harry of the dungeons.

"I've been renovating," Severus explained as Harry looked around at the dark, stone room. "We'll need a place to work on the Alcruor Prosapia Potion… I'd prefer not to travel back and forth between here and Hogwarts."

"We?" Harry questioned, reminded bitterly of the fact that he would not be here.

"Well, Miss Granger, and possibly Professor Dumbledore, will need to assist, at times."

"Hermione? Here? Don't you think that will be a little… weird?" Harry questioned, wrinkling his nose.

Severus raised his eyebrows incredulously. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Wha- oh, no! Nothing like that!" Harry objected, waving his hands frantically. "I was just… she's probably going to feel rather awkward around you, after you yelled at her like that on Thursday.

"Ah, that," Severus said, lifting his chin and smirking a bit. "If she can't learn to work outside of her comfort zone, then she will never reach the high aspirations she has undoubtedly set for herself. I would be doing her a disservice by not allowing her this opportunity to grow as a better worker."

"Oh, so you have honourable intentions? That's why you feel the need to insult her."

Severus sighed. "Gryffindors," he muttered to himself. "Those rooms," he said, changing the subject and gesturing around the room, "are not for your sight. If you enter them, I assure you; I will know, and you will suffer. Understood?"

Harry widened his eyes a bit, thinking Severus was rather melodramatic at times. "Yes, I'll stay out," he promised, mentally eliminating all possible thoughts leading to his entering those rooms.

"In fact," Severus said on second thought, looking around the room. "Just… don't come up here, period. Unless I'm up here, that is. Even then, it's best if you stay on the two lower levels."

Harry sighed. Why didn't anyone ever trust him? His curiosity wasn't that strong. "Got it," he replied dejectedly.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Severus said, following Harry down the stairs.

"Then what is it?"

Severus thought for a moment, than sighed and said, "Well, I suppose it is that I don't trust you… but I wouldn't trust anyone to stay out of a room that they were told specifically not to enter. I am simply attempting to avoid a catastrophe."

"Yes, that's me," Harry said resentfully. "A walking disaster."

"You know that I do not think of you that way."

"Do I?"

"Good question; do you?"

"What?"

"I have tried to make myself clear on the fact that I no longer think of you in such negative terms," Severus said, folding his arms. "However, your comment would indicate that I have not made my point clear enough. I do not care what trouble you've caused in the past. I revoke every negative remark I have made towards or about you during your first five years of schooling. Does that make everything clear, or need I explain further?"

"Yes, I'm touched," Harry said flatly, placing his palm on his chest.

"Stop it," Severus said irritably, jerking Harry's hand down. "What is wrong?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm not going to guess," Severus said, crossing his arms.

"I don't know what's wrong," said Harry, shrugging again.

"Search deep and find the answer," Severus demanded dryly.

"I really don't know… I suppose I'm just in a bad mood."

"I think you've spent too much time around me," Severus said thoughtfully. "I must be rubbing off on you."

Harry laughed weakly. "No, I don't think that's it. Maybe if I sleep on it…"

Severus nodded. "Come, we'll have a cup of tea first, and then retire. It has been a long day."

Harry nodded gratefully and followed Severus down the hall. The older man grasped his shoulders from behind and gave him a little shake. "And then, perhaps tomorrow, we'll talk about those essays."

Harry groaned, but allowed himself a small smile. So Severus wasn't going to lose his temper with Harry… the only problem seemed to be that Harry was likely to lose his own. He shook that thought out of his head. Like Severus had said, it had been a long day… he was tired, irritable, and anxious about the upcoming weeks… yes. No matter. A night of sleep, and he would be fine… at least, he hoped.

xxx End Chapter 35 xxx

Chapter 36

Divergence

xxx

Harry had been nothing short of exhausted by the time he'd actually made it to bed. Having walked several miles to Severus' house that day and having spent the remainder of the evening touring the house had been tiring in itself. To add to that, Severus had kept him for tea much longer than expected, and had insisted that Tibby would be severely disappointed if she were robbed of the opportunity to serve them dinner. Harry had been sure at the late time he'd been dismissed to go up to his room that sleep would come to him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Unhappily, Harry was finding this to be quite untrue. As soon as he'd turned the lights out and crawled between the sheets of his new bed, his mind had decided to snap itself out of the sleepy haze that had befallen him hours ago. He attempted to force himself to sleep, squeezing his eyes tightly closed and even going so far as to count the imaginary sheep hopping over his head one by one. He soon found himself annoyed by the incessant bleating on which these little figments of his imagination insisted, and abandoned that attempt in favour of tossing and turning.

He supposed he was kept awake by the constant questioning of his actions that day… just what had caused him to be so irritable? He could have been worse, yes, but he had been unable to keep himself from picking fights with Severus over everything he said. He had been down right aggravating, and was surprised that Severus had put up with him for such a long time.

Staring up at the dark canopy over his bed, Harry rested his hands behind his head and began to mentally turn over the events of the day. Just what was it that he was feeling? Severus had done nothing wrong; not one remark had been made with the intention of provoking Harry- not even in jest. He had told Harry something he hadn't wanted to hear, yes… but Harry thought he had become rather adept at accepting criticism from the man, knowing he only gave it because he cared too much to sugar coat everything as others did. His reaction to Severus' comments had not come from anger… it had been something else. It didn't fit with the way he normally behaved… something was off, but what?

Everything had been fine at first. He had been glad to see the house; it was just a house, nothing to be amazed by, truly, but it had felt… like a new chapter in his life. He had been happy, and nothing short of agreeable.

He thought back to what he had said about Dumbledore. Had the mention of the old man's ignorance put him in such an irascible state? He hadn't dwelled on that in a long time; he'd started to come to terms with the fact that everyone makes mistakes. He had accepted what needed to be done … hadn't he?

Was it possible that Severus was right, and that this had been the factor to set him off? Perhaps he had finally been told something that he really didn't want to hear… someone had finally had the nerve to tell him to get over his boy-wonder drama. He'd been made to realize that he was whining over something he couldn't change, almost just for attention. He'd been made to realize that no matter how humble he tried to be, he still had this complex that made him think he deserved more than these problems. Severus was right; he was not the only one with problems. He wished he didn't have them… and so did every other person on the planet. His problems didn't make him special… had this slap in the face unnerved his subconscious so greatly that his behaviour had been a reaction?

That couldn't be it. If he had had that great a problem with what Severus had said, wouldn't he have confronted him? Well, perhaps not, but he would have known right away what was bothering him. He wouldn't be lying in this bed, staring around at his dark room, trying to figure out what explanation he would give Severus at breakfast the next morning… and he was going to give an explanation. He would not show his face until he had some way to apologize for the way he had acted… it had been his first day in Severus' house and he had made a complete arse of himself. Harry shook his head at this thought and brought his palm to his forehead. How embarrassing.

It had been something else. Think, Harry, think, he told himself. What had it been to set him off? When had his attitude suddenly changed?

Harry closed his eyes and visualized himself talking to Severus. He had started in the bedroom, and moved out into the hall… Oh, that was wonderful- so it had been right when Severus had shown him his room. His father showed him that he actually cared enough to come and fix up a room for him, even going so far as to take into consideration that he would prefer warm colours to cool, and he had turned around and behaved like that. How ungrateful did he seem?

Harry groaned and turned his face into his pillow. This was awful. How did girls think about emotions and actions and all that so often? Just reflecting the past twenty-four hours was painful. He couldn't possibly analyze every aspect of the day in hopes of figuring out just what he was feeling. He was at a loss; perhaps a simple apology, with a promise never to repeat this behaviour would do. He sighed. No, it wouldn't do.

Perhaps if he placed himself back in the moment. What had he been feeling at the time? He'd been minorly irritated by Severus' analysis, yes… but minor irritation couldn't have created the problem, he'd already decided that. He'd been tired, having had a long day… but he could go days without sleep and not act like a petulant primary scholar. He'd felt… he'd felt a little weird at being given so much attention… especially with the study, and the room… and… well, he had been a bit uncomfortable. He'd been grateful, nonetheless… but he had felt quite vulnerable, now that he thought about it.

Actually, there was something to that idea. He hadn't really realized it at the time… but no one had ever done this sort of stuff for him before. It ought to have made him feel… oh, he didn't know, warm and tingly inside? That was a funny thought- but yes, that's how it ought to have made him feel… and yet he hadn't. He'd felt uncomfortable- out of his element. Like the rug could be yanked out from underneath his feet at any moment, and he would have nowhere to go but down… that was an accurate description.

Could it have been this vulnerable feeling which had led to his behaviour? He couldn't really see why… why would feeling vulnerable make him act up? He sat up and flopped onto his stomach, hitting the pillow with a smallthud. It was so… confusing. Logically, feeling so susceptible should have made him do everything possible to keep Severus happy with him… maybe his brain just didn't work right. Maybe he was just… mentally wrong.

It was with this unhappy thought that Harry finally fell asleep half an hour later, having reached no other conclusions on his behaviour. As far as he was concerned, the only explanation lied in the fact that he did not function normally… and that was a problem that was going to have to be fixed.

xxx

Severus was, by nature, an early riser. Like most children, he'd always been the first one to rise in his house; unlike most children, he had never grown out of the habit. His home had never been peaceful, but he had found solitude in the earliest hours of the day; they had always been his favourite part of the day, even if they were the time when he was least pleasant. It was an odd mix; he liked the morning, but he wasn't a morning person.

Despite the good company Harry provided, Severus sincerely hoped that the boy was always a late riser when given the opportunity. He didn't want him to sleep the day away, naturally, but he knew he would be very unpleasant if he didn't have those few hours to himself.

Severus made his morning cup of tea with unusual haste, anxious to get into the library and ensure that any and all inappropriate books were out of Harry's reach… even on tip-toes. Given an inch, Harry would most likely take a mile- and Severus would take no chances. If the boy got his hands on any material that was so much as questionable, Severus would undoubtedly be blamed and Dumbledore would have just one more reason to constantly check up on them. Severus did not need the adjective 'irresponsible' tacked onto the long list of interchangeable words which often preceded his name in the course of conversation.

Severus entered the library and flicked his wand at the antique lamp sitting on his desk, giving dim light to the room. Knowing he would damage his already waning eyesight by reading the book titles in such soft light, he regretfully lifted his seldom-used glasses from his desk and slipped them over his hooked nose. He envisioned Harry standing in front of him. The boy came to just below his shoulder; he wasn't short, but he wasn't as tall as Severus… he would have to wager that he stood about five feet, eight inches tall. Lifting his hand to this mark on his chest, he swung his arm out to measure how high on the bookshelf this came. Moving his hand a few feet above that, where he would guess was the highest that Harry could reach, he tapped his wand on that row and the books illuminated blue. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and began reading through the titles on that shelf.

It didn't take him very long to come across a book which he knew to be inappropriate for Harry's age level. Nocturnicon: Calling Dark Forces and Powers was not what Severus would deem helpful reading material; he immediately climbed the ladder and placed it on the uppermost shelf.

Severus spent a good three hours reorganizing his library, and by eight that morning, the unpleasant task had been finished, along with three rejuvenating cups of tea. He settled behind his desk and admired his work. They books were neatly arranged on the top shelf; the lower ones had some gaps, for his dark arts collection was apparently larger than he had realized, but nonetheless, it looked organized… and that was the way Severus liked his books.

Leaning back in his chair, he wondered vaguely how long he had until Harry woke up. He'd known the boy to wake as early as six and as late as noon… he wasn't very predictable, that way. He didn't know exactly how he would act when the boy did surface, however, so he wasn't overly enthusiastic about the idea of Harry waking up soon.

He felt that, all in all, he had done an admirable job of controlling his temper the previous night. After reading what Harry had written earlier that week in Potions class, he'd been mentally preparing himself for the challenges that would be thrown at him during this holiday. However, he hadn't expected such an attitude from his son; the boy had acted far too immaturely for his liking. At the time, he had been focusing on keeping his temper at bay and disallowing Harry to receive a reaction; now, however, he was wondering if the boy ought to be reproached.

He supposed his next course of action could only be determined by Harry's apparent remorse, or lack there of, that morning. He wanted to see if the boy seemed to have learned his lesson on his own, as Severus had rather hoped he would. That had been the point of allowing him to have tea and conversation with him before bed, rather than immediate punishment… Harry was old enough to be allowed to come around on his own, when it came to things like this. The question was whether or not he was mature enough to actually do so.

Severus shook his head and removed his glasses, running a hand over his face. Parenting was much more tiring than he had ever imagined; he could easily run a room full of students by filling their hearts with fear, minds with lectures, and papers with notes. Rearing his own child, however, he had to take into account the relationship that needed to grow between them. He had to take into account the boys mental, physical, social, and emotional health, rather than merely his actions and their outcomes. He cared for the boy; he never imagined caring for a child would make things so difficult. If anything, he might have thought this would make things easier.

He now found himself spending half his time reflecting on the child's welfare, and worrying that he was not fulfilling his proper role as father. Merely thinking about this was exhausting; there were so many things to take into account. Harry was not his property, his student, or his charge- he was a delicate child whom he was responsible for strengthening and growing into a good adult.

A soft knock on the door soon interrupted Severus' thoughts. Recognizing the knock, he said tiredly, "Yes, Tibby?"

"Master Snape," Tibby greeted him, pausing in the doorway to curtsey. "A letter comes for you, sir," she said, holding up a plain white envelope.

Severus squinted from his desk; it had the Weasley family seal. He nodded and extended his hand. "Yes, I'll take that. Tibby, see to it that breakfast is served ten minutes from now, and notify Harry."

"Yes, sir," the elf complied quietly, leaving the room quickly. Severus supposed he ought to have given her more notice on breakfast; after all, she hadn't cared for humans in years. He shrugged at this thought and opened the letter.

Professor Snape, it started.

I realise that there are restraints on your time, and that this is on shorter notice than you might prefer, but I am writing to request some of yours and Harry's time today. My youngest son has informed me that Harry is currently under house arrest, but that he may receive visitors. Hermione Granger is visiting for the day and the three children have asked me to bring them to see Harry at some point; I was hoping that might be alright with you. If not, that is perfectly understandable. If you are agreeable to this, we will arrive mid-afternoon. Please send your answer back with this owl.

Thank you,

Molly Weasley

Severus read the letter over and set it down, rolling his eyes. If he knew Molly Weasley (and he was quite sure he had a thorough understanding of her person) she was not one to write such a letter. Her purpose was quite transparent; no, he did not doubt that the three Gryffindors had asked her to bring them for a visit, but he could easily assume that the reason she had agreed was so that she might check up on Harry. It was becoming increasingly annoying, this constant mistrust everyone placed in him. Harry was happy with him… at least, he hoped he was.

Reluctant to divide his son from his friends and earn the boy's resentment over his mild vexation with Molly Weasley, he crossly wrote back at the bottom of the letter, unwilling to waste good parchment on a short and simple note:

That will be fine. Do not come before 2 PM. (Severus contemplated writing that this was because Harry would need time to recuperate from the beatings, but upon reflection realised that she would think him serious.) I will tell Harry you are coming.

S.S.

Severus hoped his short, snappish tone was conveyed well enough through the lack of greeting and brief note filled with abrupt sentence structures. No, he doubted she would get it. She wasn't the brightest candle in the hall.

Refolding the parchment, slipping it into a new envelope, and stamping it with the Snape seal, he summoned Tibby and grudgingly sent it off with her, instructing her to use the same owl with which the letter had arrived. Shaking his head, he rose and went to the kitchen, looking forward to a peaceful breakfast with Harry.

xxx

Harry was a bit caught off guard when Tibby entered his room and informed him that breakfast was to be served in ten minutes. Not only was this incredibly abrupt, but also, he was rather uneasy at the thought of sharing breakfast with Severus at this time. He hadn't yet worked out how to explain everything to Severus, and he had already promised himself that he would give the man his due apology.

Thinking quickly, Harry feigned a yawn and climbed slowly out of his bed. "Thanks, Tibby. Go ahead and tell Severus that he can eat without me; I don't want to keep him waiting, and I really need a shower and all."

He wondered at the frightened widening of her eyes as he said this.

"You is not wanting to join Master for breakfast?" She questioned, glancing nervously from side to side.

"Er- no?" Harry answered unsurely, fisting his hands in the pockets of his robe and shrugging. He couldn't see what the big deal was; Severus ate by himself all the time. "Could I have some towels, though? I noticed last night that there weren't any in there."

"Yes, sir," Tibby said, bowing her head. "Tibby will get master towels and deliver his message to Master Snape."

"Yeah… thanks," Harry said awkwardly, standing in place and waiting for the elf to disappear. She quickly made her exit, and several seconds later, a stack of dark blue towels blinked into existence outside his bathroom door. "Nice service," Harry commented to himself, smiling and pulling the top towel off the stack. He headed into the bathroom, warmed by the prospect of a relaxing shower and another hour to decide exactly what needed to be said to Severus.

xxx

If Harry could have seen the dark look that manifested itself on Severus' face when Tibby delivered his message, he most likely would have had the sense to forego the shower and bolt downstairs with a ready apology. However, as the walls were not transparent and he didn't have Moody's magical eye, he had no way of knowing what a mistake he was making.

From Severus' point of view, Harry was avoiding him… it was the only logical answer. Perhaps he was overreacting to this, but he hardly cared. Severus was more agitated by the boy's refusal to come down to breakfast than he was by the lack of apology… though that certainly played a role in provoking his fury. Rather than owning up to his actions, Harry was opting to evade Severus until his temper cooled and he was out of the danger zone… if only the stupid boy had realized that Severus' temper had already been in check. He'd told Harry that he would attempt to control himself; had the boy thought he'd been lying?

Infuriated by Harry's seemingly immature actions, Severus cancelled breakfast and ordered the elf from the room. Leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him, he pondered his next course of action. He briefly considered storming up the boy's room and demanding that he come down to breakfast… if he really was in the shower, however, he supposed that would be quite awkward… and it was a rather bold thing for Severus to do. He was a man of subtlety. Also, indignant as he was, he didn't want the boy to feel his point had been proven- Severus Snape had firm control over his temper, and he would not have anyone thinking otherwise.

Severus raised his eyebrows, considering for a moment the many times he had lost his temper in the past. He shook his head and thought defensively, those times were different.

No, he still wanted the boy to come to him and apologize on his own. He wanted him to understand that while he could be tolerant, the boy was still expected to take responsibility for any behaviour that went amiss. He shook his head. Not for the first time, he thought that perhaps he had been too lenient with the boy. He supposed that in his endeavour to keep that familiar harshness and overbearing nature out of his dealings with Harry, he had gone the opposite way, and run into just as ruinous a problem.

He would not become the tyrant he had grown up with; he had vowed as much to himself a very long time ago. Still, Harry was going to learn how to interact properly and cleverly with Severus whether or not it killed him. It was obvious that the boy didn't understand that he had been gifted the previous night; in fact, had he not realized at the time how awful he was being, Severus would have come down on him then and there… instead Harry had been given a chance, and he had blown it.

Making up his mind, he rose and stormed towards his study. If the boy could not find it within him to give his due apology, or at least show his face at breakfast, he could start atoning for his last misdeed now- perhaps it would remind him of how Severus dealt punishment, and give him that extra push he needed.

Severus banged around a bit, looking for some extra quills and the prompts he had written for Harry several weeks earlier. Finding them after a quick search, he sat down and penned a short missive to attach to the front. Though his ruminations had significantly cooled his fit of pique, he wanted Harry to know that he did not plan to ignore this slight… and give him a subtle warning to show some contrition before Severus forced penance from him.

His message did not take long to put down on paper; he had no need for long, drawn out explanations or words to soften the blow. He would leave no room for miscalculation; there would be no doubt in Harry's mind what Severus meant by this.

Re-reading the note and the prompts, Severus nodded to himself and set out to leave them on the kitchen table, before heading up to the third floor.

xxx

A good part of thirty minutes having been spent slumped against the shower tiles, hot water beating upon his lean frame, Harry was confident by the time he got out that the kitchen would be empty. He was not normally partial to such long showers, barring the nights he spent practising Quidditch in the bone-chilling rain. He wasn't especially fond of prunes, and had no particular desire to turn into one.

For some inexplicable reason, however, he could not bear the idea of showing his face on the lower levels. Having reflected upon the immaturity of his actions for amounting hours now, his mortification had risen to a petrifying level. He was… to state it simply, highly embarrassed, and now regretting having put off his confrontation with Severus for so long.

Part of him recognized the significant amount of forbearance that Severus had displayed. The man had made an admirable effort to contain his temper, he now realized. Surely, he could display the same amount of determination and set aside his pride, right?

Harry dressed in warm clothes and towel dried his hair, forsaking any futile attempts to tame it with his comb. With trepidation, he slowly made his way down to the kitchen, walking slowly and attempting to step quietly so that Severus would not be alerted to his presence. He would go to the man when he was ready; he didn't relish the thought of being swooped down upon, as normally happened back at school.

Reaching the kitchen, he peered around the doorway and looked around. All clear. He stepped in, and was surprised to see a stack of papers, not food, on the table. He had somewhat expected Severus to set aside a meal for him… apparently he had forgotten, or something.

Harry approached the papers cautiously; he didn't know what they were, but Severus usually took his own work with him wherever he went, or left it in his study. Harry could not imagine him sitting in the kitchen, grading his papers there for the light atmosphere.

They were for him, he could see when he got close enough to read the top of the page. His name was printed in dark, spiky letters, followed by a violent slash that he supposed was meant to be a comma. The same ink appeared to have written the message below his name:

Harry,

Perhaps you were unaware, but refusing to show your face at the breakfast table is a sign of utmost disrespect, and I will not have it in this house. Avoiding me and refusing meals only serves as punishment for yourself; it is of very little consequence to me.

When you are finished behaving like a moronic first year, and have come sufficiently to your senses to realize that avoidance is not the answer to all your problems, you may come find me. Until these things have happened, however, and you have seen the error of your ways, keep out of my path. I won't be happy should you choose to show up at my door and gape like a fish, so I suggest that you have a decent idea of what you are going to say when you approach me. Don't presume to waste my time; it is far too valuable, and listening to you stutter at me does not seem a worthwhile activity.

Below this missive are your essay prompts. You will spend the remainder of your sulking time working on them; do not let me catch you doing anything else. I will check your progress before dinner tonight if I have not spoken to you by that time. You may make use of the library, but remember our agreement that you would not view the books above your reaching height. I am in no mood to be disobeyed, so I suggest you refrain from testing those particular limits.

I will be on the third floor if you need me or have something to say to me. Otherwise, do not bother me.

Shocked, it took Harry several minutes to absorb this letter. He reread it a second time, wondering if perhaps some of the harshness of its tone might have been imagined.

It wasn't.

Harry sank down into the chair and buried his head in his hands, forcing back that choking feeling in his throat. He'd really done it now. If Severus hadn't been seriously ireful before, he was now.

He hadn't meant to avoid Severus… for the reasons Severus had guessed, at any cost. He had only wanted to give him a perfect apology… one that wouldn't leave him sitting there gaping like a fish, as Severus had so eloquently phrased it in his missive. Would the man accept that explanation? Was there any other explanation to give him? Yes, he had been relatively scared, but that hadn't been his main reason for missing breakfast, nor had he meant it as a sign of disrespect. No one had ever cared before whether or not he came to breakfast; he hadn't thought Severus would mind eating in silence… in fact, he thought he would be viewed as somewhat of a pest if Severus was forced to eat every meal with him.

He guiltily reflected now that these thoughts had been rather stupid. First of all, Severus had given him very little reason for fear the previous night. Second, Severus had told him on several occasions (however vaguely) that he enjoyed his company. Why had Harry second-guessed that?

Harry ran a finger over the ink; it smudged, just slightly. He guessed it had been written not ten minutes ago. Glancing woefully over his father's writing, he decided that Severus would need some time to cool off before Harry even attempted to explain. Best not to put it off too long, of course, lest Severus believe he was being avoided again… but now, ten minutes after the message was left, was not the best time to try to redeem himself.

Harry sullenly began on his essays. Admittedly, he didn't much feel like working on them at the moment… not that he wasn't feeling remorseful, he just… he would have preferred to take a walk, or do something else to get his current thoughts in order. Concentrating on his grievances from nearly a month ago didn't do much to clear his mind. Still, he would do them… and he would do them well.

Harry spent several hours, sitting at the kitchen table, working on his essays. He'd made a few trips to the library for different books and references, but had made them as quick as possible, just in case Severus came downstairs. He didn't want the man to get the idea that he was doing anything other than writing his essays.

So, write he did. The first essay took him a surprising two hours, but looking over it, he decided that Severus would appreciate the quality with which it was composed. At least, he hoped he would… he didn't want the man to think he was only putting in half the effort he was capable of. He immediately moved on to the second essay, thinking that perhaps once he was finished with this one, he would be able to speak with Severus.

Harry was halfway to finish when he heard the unmistakable voice of his father coming from the room across the hall. He leaned back in his chair, trying to see where he was. He could see just the ends of Severus' black robes a few feet away from the fireplace. He suspected that someone was on the other end, speaking with him.

After a moment's consideration, Harry got up and crept to the door, leaning against the frame and hanging his head out into the hallway for a better listening advantage. He winced as he heard the bleakness and austerity of his father's voice; it wasn't difficult to tell that he was gritting his teeth and biting back the unkind words forming at the tip of his tongue.

"Well, I wouldn't know, as the boy has been avoiding me all day," he was saying in a low growl, clearly attempting to keep Harry from overhearing.

Harry frowned. He wasn't trying to avoid Severus, so to speak. He was just trying to let the man's temper subside before they spoke again.

Severus spoke again. "I don't know, Albus."

There was a pause.

"No- no, I ask you not to interfere-"

A second pause.

"Everything is perfectly under control. An adolescent's childish reactions to being reprimanded and refusal to give an apology are nothing out of the ordinary. Do you disagree?"

Another pause.

"No, you may not come through- Albus! No- this conversation has come to an end; you may not come to call at this time. Harry and I can and will make it through this holiday without being babysat, I can assure you that. No. Goodbye, Albus."

Harry took this as his cue to jump back from the door and take his place at the kitchen table again. He half expected Severus to come and check on him as he left the parlour, but to both his relief and disappointment, the man's footsteps bypassed the kitchen. Harry sat for several moments, wondering if he would change his mind and return… but after ten minutes, Harry gave up hope. Severus was still going to make him come to him.

He couldn't let Severus walk around fuming over this all day; apparently, his anger was not going to lessen… it was just going to simmer until he reached his boiling point. Sighing, Harry placed his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself for this confrontation. He was ready to do this… he needed to do this… he was just worried about how Severus would behave.

For some reason, the walk from the kitchen to the stairs now seemed much further than it had previously, and the stairs much taller. Harry tried to calm his mind and focus on what he was going to say when he arrived at the third floor. He knew he would have to say it quickly, before Severus had a chance to reprieve him for 'wasting his time'.

Harry climbed the last few stairs at a slower pace and hesitated before opening the door, turning his words over in his mind. He shook his head at this hesitation; he was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? He ought to be able to face Severus with the courage his house was known for.

Harry reached down and twisted the door handle, opening the door slowly.

"Severus?"

His father's back was facing him. The man slowly turned around, arching an eyebrow. Harry took this as an indication that he was to step into the room and begin speaking.

"I- er- I came to apologize…" he started off, trying hard to maintain eye contact with the older man. Severus nodded for him to continue. "I want you to know that I wasn't trying to… to avoid you… I was planning on apologizing. I just… I wanted more time to plan what I was going to say, so that I wouldn't end up… 'gaping like a fish'."

"Ah," Severus said, raising his eyebrows. Truthfully, hearing this, he felt somewhat guilty over the harsh tone with which he had written the letter. He had written with the thought in the back of his mind that Harry would be sulking all day long, and that had made him rather irritable and not at all generous with his kindness. Admittedly, he was surprised to see the boy standing before him so early in the day, and was considerably softened by the fact. Still, he'd be damned before he let the boy know that.

Harry was hoping his father might help him out a bit more… lead him into the topics that he wanted to discuss. However, he was offering him no aids or baiting. Harry found he rather preferred the other way.

"I thought a lot about how I um… how I acted last night," Harry said, stomach doing flips now. Severus wasn't giving him much to work off of, and Harry couldn't tell if his apology was going to be accepted. For all he knew, he was doing this for nothing.

Severus nodded. This was good to hear; it was all he had really wanted in the first place, just for Harry to think about his actions, instead of brushing them off. For the first time, he gifted the boy with a true response. "And what conclusions did you come to?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief; the man had taken mercy. Harry had never been one for monologues… he had no desire to begin speaking with them now.

"Well… I couldn't figure it out at first. I don't think I was really angry with you over anything. I guess I eventually came around to thinking about when it started… and I realized… I think being given so much made me feel umm…like I needed to keep my guard up." Oh, this was absolutely painful; he didn't like to put his emotions out there for anyone, especially not someone who could so easily rip him apart. Still, if it was the only way to make things right… "No one has ever really given me so much… it's scary to think that… I don't know."

"That it could all be taken away very quickly?"

Harry nodded, looking down.

"I might agree with that assessment," Severus said in subdued tones. Harry had attempted to push him away before Severus could do the same to him… it had been a subconscious, half-hearted effort, but an effort nevertheless. "I'm somewhat surprised you thought it through so well."

"Well, I thought I owed it to you…" Harry said, shrugging. "And I wanted to know as well. I really am sorry, you know."

"How are the essays coming?"

Harry was taken a bit off guard by this change of topic, but supposed it was his best choice to answer regardless. "I've got one of them finished, and I'm almost done with the other."

Severus didn't change his facial expression. He couldn't help but be suspicious; Harry had actually sat down and written his essays? He hadn't expected this… he had expected that less than he had expected a prompt apology. He murmured thoughtfully and turned around, distracting himself with the sealing spells he was placing upon the wood countertops for his workroom.

Harry sensed, somehow, that this was the end of their conversation for the moment. He turned to leave, stopping with his hand rested on the door handle.

"Are we… alright?" he asked after a moment of indecision.

Severus stopped his wand work and rested his hands on the counters. "I accept your apology, Harry… and I am grateful for it."

"Right… good," Harry said, forcing some sort of cheeriness into his voice. "Well, I'll just leave you to this, then."

Severus nodded and waited until he heard the door close. It wasn't that he was still angry with the boy… he was upset with himself for assuming the worst. Harry had done what he'd been asked. He'd come of his own free will and offered an apology- not eloquent in its stating, but essentially perfect in content. It was more than he would have expected of any teenage boy… and yet, if experience had taught him anything, Harry was an extraordinary child. Why had he ignored everything he'd learned about the boy to date? Had the severity of his reaction pushed Harry back to the place they'd been at several months ago?

Severus pondered this for a while as he worked, until another thought occurred to him. The boy thought he was still angry. He'd allowed him to walk away, and his acceptance of the boy's penitence had been perfunctory at best. He almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it all- misunderstandings were bound to be the end of his and Harry's friendly relationship.

Shaking his head, he slid his wand into his robe pocket and quickly descended the stairs. He would have to make it clear, somehow, that he was not still angry with Harry. He guessed the boy would have retreated to his room, and so he moved to that corner of the house.

He knocked on Harry's door and waited. "Harry?" he called, pushing the door open. The room was empty. He cursed to himself and retreated, aiming to check the kitchen next. As he passed the great glass doors leading to the balcony however, he saw a small form out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and looked outside; Harry was sitting upon the ledge and leaning against the house, staring out across the grounds.

Severus stepped outside and stared at the boy for a moment, measuring his stance. The pure recklessness of the child was infuriating. "Get down from there, now," Severus said slowly, carefully enunciating every word.

Harry looked his way and struggled not to laugh at the shocked expression on Severus' face. He hopped onto the stone surface of the balcony and watched Severus wince at this quick movement.

"What are you thinking, sitting perched like that on the balcony?" Severus asked, moving towards him. "You've survived the Dark Lord more times than I can count on one hand, and you now wish to plummet to your death?"

"Well, I figured, it's the way birds learn how to fly, so… maybe it would work for me. Good skill to have during the war, if I could master it." Harry said seriously, looking back at the rail with a perplexed expression on his face.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Only if you didn't kill yourself in the process."

"Well, if I can't fly, there's really no use living," Harry replied, shrugging and looking out over the garden. "I need some sort of advantage over Voldemort… this seems like a good one."

There was silence for a moment, and then, "You had better not be serious."

Harry finally laughed and turned back to Severus. "I'm not," he said, shaking his head. Severus seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at this. It was moderately amusing to think that he might consider Harry serious on something such as that.

It didn't take long for the uneasy feeling to settle over the two of them again. Soon they were both avoiding eye contact, their previous moment of light-heartedness forgotten.

Harry cleared his throat and spoke first. "So umm… I thought you were working on your workroom."

Severus nodded. "I thought… perhaps you might like to help," he said, raising his gaze to meet Harry's.

"Really? I won't be bothering you?"

Severus shook his head. "I did not mean for it to seem as though I was still upset with you… I'm not."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, but grateful for this peace offering, nonetheless. "Well umm… yeah, then, sure."

The walk up to the third floor was silent. Severus stared unwaveringly ahead, and Harry glanced sideways at Severus every few moments, trying to catch a hint of expression. As much as he would have loved to believe that Severus wasn't angry with him, it was difficult to do so when the man acted so to the contrary.

Once upstairs, Harry was pointed to the wall of counters opposite to the one Severus had been working on, and told to magically scrub the wood countertops so Severus could come behind him and perform the same sealing spell on them as he had the others. Harry gave no argument or questions, and started to work right away.

He was unsure how long they would spend working up there, but he was glad for something to occupy him. He might have been upset about being given the work, and compared it to the way the Dursleys had treated him previously… but this was very different from the chores they had given him. It felt good, to have Severus working right along side him. Even if the man really was angry with him, it meant something that he had thought to let Harry know that they were still on good terms.

They did not work for more than two hours. At one o' clock, Severus slipped his wand back into his sleeve and tossed a tarnished rag onto one of the counters, stepping back to inspect their work.

"Well," he muttered thoughtfully, scrutinizing the gleaming wood surfaces, "it's coming along slowly… but it's coming along, nonetheless."

Harry smiled a little to himself. If Severus thought this was slow going, he would hate to see what he thought of the muggle method.

Severus glanced over at Harry, and noted the half hearted smile on his face and, upon reflection, realized that the boy had not attempted to initiate one conversation during the course of their work. This had not bothered Severus, as he was normally a quiet worker, but it was uncharacteristic for the Boy-Who-Would-Not-Shut-Up.

"I really am not angry with you, you do realize," Severus said tentatively, frowning slightly.

Harry shrugged noncommittally.

"Harry," Severus intoned, prodding him to expand on the gesture.

"Well… I guess you just… seem angry, that's all."

"I always seem angry," said Severus, narrowing his eyes into an expression resembling perplexity.

Harry gave a half laugh, and shook his head. "No, you don't," he negated, shaking his head. "You always seem stern and foreboding, but not always angry… and I've become used to that, by now."

"Ah," Severus responded, raising his eyebrows and giving a nod. "I'm not angry with you, Harry," he assured the boy, attempting to make his expression more relaxed. "If I was, I would say as much."

While Harry supposed this was true, he could not help but still be a bit doubtful. In favour of preventing any sort of argument, however, he silently accepted this with a nod.

"Now," Severus continued, resuming his brisk manner, "You'll be pleased to know that several of the Weasleys and Miss Granger are stopping in for a visit this afternoon-"

"Are you serious?" Harry exclaimed excitedly, only realizing he had cut Severus off by the annoyed expression on the older man's face. "I'm sorry, continue."

"I requested that they arrive no earlier than two, but there was no correspondence past that point, so I am not sure what time they will be arriving. I suggest you go to clean up and get redressed. I will endeavour to gift you with my absence while they are here, but if they are staying for dinner, please inform me so that I may give Tibby instructions. They will most likely have taken lunch before they arrive, as well, so I suggest you eat something as well."

"Okay," Harry said, absorbing all of this and making a mental checklist in his mind. "Won't you be eating?"

"Dinner, yes," he said, nodding. "I'm going to work on this a bit longer, however."

Harry nodded, wondering to himself if Severus had eaten anything today. "Are there any rooms you would like me to keep them out of?"

Severus grimaced, just realizing that several Weasleys and the curious Granger creature would be roaming his home. "It should go without saying that they may not enter any of the rooms that I instructed you to stay out of… my quarters, of course… if you go into the study, take care to stay away from my work area." Severus paused, thinking, and then said, "I am placing tremendous amounts of trust in you, Harry, in letting you have your friends here… included in that is the trust that you will make wise choices. Are we clear?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, of course," he said sincerely. "And I'm really grateful for this, you know."

Severus nodded curtly and glanced around the room. "I'm sure you can find your way down to your room without me," he said in way of a question. Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. "Very well; Molly Weasley will most likely wish to have a word with me when they arrive, so kindly fetch me when they do."

"Alright," Harry agreed easily, moving towards the door. "Oh- what do you want with the essay I completed?"

"Place it on my desk and have the rest of them done by the time we return to Hogwarts," Severus said, thinking to himself that he ought to have stricter time restraints, and yet failing to revise his statement.

"Fair enough," Harry said, opening the door. "Have fun up here."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Severus muttered, pulling out his wand and going back to work.

xxx

Harry didn't waste time taking another shower. He washed his face and hands, shook the dust out of his hair, and changed clothes. He grinned into the mirror and thought to himself that this was as efficient a way to get clean as showering was.

Frowning, he then wondered if that was the idea Severus had started out with.

Harry rolled his eyes at this thought and dipped his head into the sink, summoning a bottle of shampoo and washing out the dirt his hair had accumulated in the workroom. Satisfied several minutes later that he was not following in his father's hygienic footsteps, he towelled off his hair and got rid of the water he had splashed onto the floor.

Harry was both excited and worried about his friends' upcoming visits. Hermione- and Ginny, if she came- would be fine. He knew they might be a bit uneasy being in the Potions Master's house at first, but they wouldn't be stupid about it. Ron, however… well, Ron had been fairly understanding, so far. Yes, he had made several gibes about Severus over the course of the last few weeks… but that was to be expected, Harry felt, and it was quite forgivable. However, he wondered if Ron's fear would be amplified in the man's home… and he knew that was part of why Ron acted the way he did. It wasn't simple dislike; Ron hated being intimidated, and this was his reaction to it.

Harry had been able to replace his bad memories and feelings toward Severus with good ones. Hermione had been able to sympathize, because he had spoken with her about it more than anyone else. Ginny had been the same, because not only had Harry spoken to her about it, but also, Hermione had explained it to her several times.

Ron, on the other hand, was still the one person Harry most disliked speaking to about Severus. While he was a good friend, he was an awful advice giver, and rather inept at understanding a broad range of emotions or changes of heart. Harry didn't blame him for this, of course. He'd lead a relatively simple life up until he'd met Harry, in which jealousy and competition were his biggest problems. He didn't understand the need for family, because he had such a big one already. He didn't understand the significance of having a father that cared, because unlike Harry, he had always had one. Most importantly, he could not separate Professor Snape from Harry's father, because he hadn't seen that side of the man.

The worst of it all was Ron's fierce loyalty to his best friend. Harry couldn't deny that this had to be the driving factor for Ron's hate of his father. He couldn't forget the way Harry had been treated. It is, after all, easier to forgive someone of their sins when one is the victim of said wrongdoings. When angry on the behalf of another, it is much more difficult to let go of that righteous infuriation.

Flicking his wand at the lights and stepping out of the room, Harry sighed to himself and headed towards the kitchen. As much as he could understand Ron's attitude, he knew he wouldn't much enjoy it if it got any worse. He didn't know what his reaction would be if anything else was said about his father. Upon reflection, he should have been able to easily shake off all those negative remarks… after all, once upon a time, he had been the main advocate for all things Snape-hate related.

For obvious reasons, his opinions had changed… but Ron's hadn't, and for some reason, he knew he would most likely snap if his friend kept it up. He wanted this to be a pleasant visit. He just didn't know if that would be possible.

Shuffling through his papers to find his completed essay, Harry started off towards the study. As asked, he placed his essay atop Severus' desk, and filed his other papers into his own. He felt somewhat satisfied as he stepped back and inspected his own neat work area. He'd only been there for one day, but thanks to Severus' endeavours, he was already starting to feel settled in.

Harry stepped around the desk and sat down, sliding his chair in and relaxing. He looked around at the warm room contentedly, and smiled to himself. Even if Ron didn't believe it… even if Severus didn't always act like it… his father cared about him. That much was clear.

xxx

It was actually a bit later in the evening when the Weasleys and Hermione finally arrived. Harry had fallen asleep in the study, leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk. He was awoken by the house elf, which was tugging at his sleeve and calling his name.

"Guests is being here, sir," Tibby informed him, once he groggily opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep in the study… nor that he had been tired in the first place.

"Thank you, Tibby," Harry grunted as he swung his legs off the desk and onto the floor, and heaved himself upward. He straightened his glasses, pushed his chair back in, and headed for the front door.

Standing there, looking around curiously, were Mr. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. Harry smiled and came to a quiet stop, waiting for them to notice he was standing there.

"Harry," Hermione gasped about half a second later, smiling. "I didn't see you there!"

"Yeah, I only just got here. I fell asleep in the study." Harry would not have admitted it aloud to anyone, but he very much liked the sound of that. It made him feel important.

"You have a study?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah," Harry replied stiffly, unsure of what was to follow.

To his relief, however, Ron only said, "Oye… I suppose that means you'll be expected to do your homework then, eh, if you have a special room for it?"

Harry laughed at this, glad when Ron smiled. "Yeah, downright cruel, isn't it?"

"If you think that's cruel, I can't wait to see what you think of the work you'll be given after Christmas," came his father's deep voice from behind, and he felt a warm hand lightly grip his shoulder. He looked behind him, and was surprised to see an amused expression on the man's face. "I'm sure you'll find it downright torturous."

"I'm sure," Harry agreed, hoping he was joking. "I was going to come get you, you know."

"The elf beat you to it," Severus told him, moving in front of him to greet Mr. Weasley.

"Arthur," he said, much more warmly than Harry might have expected. It wasn't a friendly greeting, but his voice wasn't as cold as it normally was when he greeted a person. "I thought you would be working today."

"Called off duty," the red-haired man said quietly, exchanging a significant glance with the Potions Master.

"I see," Severus said, sounding somewhat concerned now. "And your wife…?"

"At home with the other children, of course. She had rather hoped to bring these three by earlier, but complications arose… you understand."

"Of course," Severus said. "Well, if you need them to stay here…"

The four children exchanged somewhat alarmed glances behind Severus' back.

"Thank you, Severus, I will let you know," Mr. Weasley said, looking truly grateful. "I must be on my way, though."

Severus nodded and opened the door for Mr. Weasley, who promptly exited. He then turned to Harry and pointed down the hall. "I need to speak with you, in the study, now," he said, and strode quickly past Harry.

The others looked at Harry oddly, but he just shrugged and followed.

"What is it?" he asked as soon as the door to the study was closed.

"That is irrelevant," Severus said, shaking his head. "I won't keep you, for I don't want those three little mongrels out there unaccompanied for too long. I do not know how long they will be required to stay here, but I very much doubt that it will be for more than a night. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, after all, and I'm sure Mrs. Weasley will want them home… however, I wish you to stay inside of the house. Do not stray outdoors, and do not floo anyone or attempt to make any other contact with others. Is that understood?"

"I… not really," Harry admitted. "Why can't I know what's going on?"

"Because you are too young-"

"I'm not too young. Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Harry, I'm not going to negotiate this with you-"

"It would mean a lot to me if you would just listen to my reasoning," Harry interrupted again, hoping that perhaps Severus would agree.

Severus stared at him for a long moment, and then sighed. "Fine. You have two minutes."

"Two minutes?"

"In counting."

Harry growled in frustration. Two minutes was a rather small time span for one to make a point. "If, supposedly, I am the one that is supposed to take Voldemort down… don't you think I deserve most of all to know what he's doing?"

"It doesn't all involve Voldemort's activities-"

"Oh no, no loopholes here!" Harry exclaimed. "Death Eaters, Voldemort, fighting, it's all the same these days. I need to know it all…. How can I be prepared for this if I have no idea what they are capable of?"

"Your two minutes are up," Severus said.

"No they are not!"

"Yes, they quite are."

"You said you would listen to me!"

"I did. For two minutes. I've paid my dues."

"Will you at least consider it?"

"Consider what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on; give me a break here!"

Severus paused for a moment, evaluating the level of determination Harry seemed to have on this topic. "Are you going to drop this?"

"No."

"…Harry-"

"Will you at least consider it?"

"You already asked me that."

"And you never answered!"

Severus took a long pause, considering the boy. He was incredibly divided over the issue. He agreed partially with Harry that he needed to know what was going on… but there were certain topics best kept from his knowledge. If he did realize the true terror Voldemort could inflict at this point, he would be too intimidated to put his all into training. He would feel defeated before he even began preparation. Severus could not allow this to happen. On the other hand, if he kept everything from the boy, he was sure to become defiant and go searching out information on his own, drawing the wrong conclusions and getting himself in trouble rather than putting a concentrated effort into priming for the culmination of his and Voldemort's lifelong conflict.

"If I say I will tell you what you need to know, will that pacify you?" Severus proposed, narrowing his eyes.

Harry's expression was similar, but suspicious. "Clarify," he demanded, to receive a warning flash of Severus' eyes. He struggled to keep from rolling his eyes, and rephrased. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound more polite.

Severus arched an eyebrow, but answered him, "I cannot tell you everything, Harry, and you should know that. I can, however, tell you information that may be of use to you… I can attempt to keep you informed."

"How do I know that you won't keep important things from me, like everyone else?" Harry questioned, crossing his arms.

"Who do you know who is quite like me?" Severus replied, smirking. "I have no desire to protect you from the harsh reality that death happens. I have no desire to shelter you. I believe those sorts of protection only weaken one's defences. There are certain things, however, that you cannot know- for your safety, for your friends' safety, and for your state of mental health. Credit me with a keen sense of discernment and a purpose to serve your best interests."

Harry looked at Severus for a moment, and then flicked his eyes to the ground. He was glad that Severus was not a sentimental man, for if he had said that without his usual stoicism, Harry might have found himself getting overly emotional over what had just been said to him. He couldn't quite place his finger on why it meant so much to him… but he knew Severus was telling the truth. He was looking out for his best interests, and he was there to help him through everything he would encounter in the near future. It was a comforting and touching thought.

"Harry?"

"Umm, yeah," Harry said, coming out of his reverie and looking back up at Severus. "Yeah, that's exactly… yeah. Thank you."

Severus frowned for a moment, but nodded. "You're welcome," he said slowly, eyeing Harry with an indiscernible glint in his eyes. "Now, you will adhere to the rules I have laid out for you and your friends?"

"Yes," Harry said with a nod.

"See to it that you keep that to that promise," Severus said, raising an eyebrow and widening his narrowed eyes in warning. Harry nodded, and Severus turned and left the study.

Harry watched him walk back down the hallway, and then wondered how on earth the man managed such odd facial expressions. How could someone combine narrowed and widened eyes? He wondered vaguely if he could achieve it, and lowered his chin into the position Severus' head had been in. He narrowed his eyes and arched an eyebrow. Then, like his father did, he kept his lower lids narrowed and lifted the upper ones. For the extra effect, he added a smirk, and holding his face like that, walked to view himself in decorative mirror behind his desk. No… not quite right. He straightened his lips and glared just a bit more… there. That was it.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

Harry quickly spun around, knocking the mirror off the wall in the process and sending it shattering to the ground. He cursed loudly and jumped away from the smashed glass, only to stumble across the nearby chair and fall ungracefully to the wood floor. Laughter ensued.

Harry quickly lifted himself off the ground and regained his footing, running a hand coolly through his hair. "Oh, hey," he said in the most even, normal voice he could manage, sending his friends into even greater peals of laughter. "Stop laughing," he demanded, though he couldn't help but start to laugh himself.

"Oh Harry, we're sorry, it's just… you looked so silly!" Hermione declared, with Ginny nodding emphatically at her side and Ron leaning against the door frame for support as he continued to guffaw.

"So, what were you doing?" Ron choked out between bouts of laughter.

Harry blushed, and admitted sheepishly, "Trying to imitate Sever- my Dad's facial expression."

The use of the word 'dad' seemed to sober Ron enough to keep him from falling to the ground, but his smile did not fade entirely.

"A truly difficult feat," Ginny commented good-humouredly, stepping in and looking around. "This is really nice."

"Yes, the whole house is," Hermione concurred, following suit.

"Thanks," Harry said offhandedly, aiming his wand at the broken glass and muttering, "Reparo."

"How come there are two desks?" Ron asked, looking puzzled.

"Oh, one of them is mine," Harry said, grinning.

"Yours?" Ron repeated, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah, mine. Why?"

Hermione answered for him. "It's rather surprising that Professor Snape would share his study with you, that's all." She paused for a moment, looking around a bit, and then back at Harry. "I thought he would have wanted his privacy."

"Yeah, so did I," Harry agreed. He was somewhat put off by her thinking this, but he tried to brush it off. He had thought the same thing, after all. "But apparently, he doesn't mind."

"It's a rather nice collection of books," Ginny commented from across the room. Harry noted with relief that she got close, but didn't touch anything.

"I can't touch the ones above my grasp," Harry said. "So you shouldn't either, just so you know… but yeah, it is really cool. Sever- my Dad said I could use them, for whatever. I guess I'll get to see some of the darker ones this summer, just so I know what I'm up against."

"He's not going to teach you any Dark Magic, is he Harry?" Hermione asked, looking scandalized as she whirled around to stare accusingly at him.

"You know, just because he was a Death Eater-"

"Is a Death Eater," Ron interrupted.

"You know what, Ron? You can just-"

"Harry!" Ginny stepped forward and gripped his shoulder. "No one meant anything negative about it!"

"Oh? What did they mean then?"

"Maybe you would find out if you stopped jumping to conclusions and interrupting, and just let them speak," Ginny offered gently.

"I only meant that no one can just quit being a Death Eater," Ron said tentatively, his expression wary. "No one walks away from Voldemort's service… no one can until he's defeated."

"Oh…" Harry muttered, feeling slightly stupid for having reacted so strongly.

"And I just wanted to… to make sure… Harry, it's nothing personal against Professor Snape. You know I trust him… just… well, maybe I don't with this. I can't help but worry though, you know."

Harry regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said. "There is only one purpose to me learning any of the Dark Arts. Know thine enemy, right? Anyways, we'll be covering very strong white magic, mostly. Don't worry… he wouldn't steer me wrong."

There was silence for a moment. Ginny smiled at him and went back to inspecting the books, soon to be joined by Hermione. Ron stared at the ground thoughtfully for awhile, still leaning against the doorframe, and Harry hung the mirror back on the wall and sat down in the chair he'd fallen over.

"Harry, I haven't been awful, have I?" Ron asked for a moment, still staring thoughtfully at the ground.

"What do you mean, Ron?" Harry asked guardedly, unsure how to answer.

"I mean… about this whole… thing. With the Professor."

"My Dad?"

"…Yeah… your Dad," Ron said slowly, seemingly testing out the word.

"I don't know," Harry said, rising from his chair, leaning back against the desk, and shrugging. "I… well, your attitude could be improved… but umm…"

"Hermione reckons it's only a matter of time before we end up in another feud over this. I just… I wanted to make sure that didn't happen again…" Ron's gaze never left the ground as he spoke.

"Hermione didn't mention anything to me," Harry said, thinking that he might have liked to be consulted before she'd gone to Ron on his behalf. He had sort of expected it… he just would have liked to have been notified.

"Well, she sort of went off on me the other day…"

"Why?"

"You won't be mad?"

"I… no, I'll be fine. What?"

"I said I was refusing to come here… because of Sn- Professor Snape. She just… lost it on me. I was really angry at first, but… I don't know, I'm sorry if I've been a jerk, okay?"

Harry tried not to laugh, he really did… but Ron's face was as bright as a radish, and at the moment, his tactics of evading any sort of emotion were simply hilarious.

"This isn't funny, okay? I'm laying it on the line here, Harry!" Another snort from Harry's direction. "Harry!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry- okay? It's just… never mind. Just, I guess… try to cool it on him, okay?"

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding and making eye contact for the first time. "I'll try to cool it… just tell me when I'm making an arse out of myself."

"Ronald, don't swear or I'll tell mum," came Ginny's singsong voice from the other section of the room, causing Ron to blush again.

"I didn't know they could hear me!" he hissed. "I can't even see them from where I'm standing!"

"People can hear around corners, Ron," Harry said dryly, raising his eyebrows. Ron shook his head and kicked the door, causing Harry to laugh again.

xxx

Dinner was a rather awkward affair that night. At first, Severus' line of thinking had been that he would not be chased away from his own dinner table by a group of teenagers; students, no less. As the evening went on, however, and Hermione attempted to include him in the conversation for the fourth time, he found himself mentally noting never to eat dinner with these four again.

Harry had seemed to enjoy his day, which was perhaps some consolation for Severus' misery. Harry had enthusiastically shown his friends around the house… it had pleased Severus to know that Harry was proud of living here, now, of course, and that he liked the house so. However, he'd spent the entire day stalking in and out of rooms, avoiding the group. He simply had no desire to come into contact with the children.

He was becoming more and more worried that perhaps they would be staying the night after all. He had rather hoped Arthur would return soon… hopefully not Molly, as he rather disliked her. Still, he would face even her to get his house back to its normally peaceful state. It had been only one day, and already he missed his privacy. It was another story when it was only Harry in the house. That didn't feel quite like the invasion he was experiencing now.

Severus discreetly glanced around the table. Ron was quietly shoving food into his mouth, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. Hermione kept shooting thoughtful glances his way; he knew she was trying to find another way to engage him in conversation. Ginny and Harry were the only two acting normally, which he was rather glad for.

"Miss Weasley," he ventured, lifting his knife and cutting into the meat on his plate. "Have you heard from your parents at all today, by chance?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "But if you want me to, I can just give them a shout through the floo-"

"That won't be necessary," Severus said, shaking his head.

"I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem," Ginny offered tentatively several minutes later. "You really shouldn't have to put us up for the night. I'm sure my mother would feel the same way."

"Oh, undoubtedly she does," Severus replied, a bit more bitingly than he had intended to. Still, he smirked and continued, "She does not hold me in the highest esteem, I am well aware of that fact, Miss Weasley."

"That's not what I meant," the redhead said coldly, glaring at him. All three of her companions' heads turned in her direction.

Severus set down his fork and knife and placed his hands on the edge of the table. "I don't much care for your tone, Miss Weasley."

"Nor I for yours," she replied evenly, mimicking his stance.

Severus' eyes flashed, nostrils flared, and he rose menacingly. "Let me make something clear to you, or anyone else who doubts my authority. Whether at Hogwarts or outside of it, I am still your Professor and demand to be treated as such."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and opened her mouth, but Ginny threw out a hand to stop her from speaking. "I meant no disrespect, Professor, and I'm sorry if you are taking it that way… but I won't tolerate insults to my family, and I felt that was where you were heading. I would like to continue visiting Harry here, sir, but I'm not sure that will be possible if you keep jumping to conclusions whenever one of us talks. I wanted to clarify that I had not meant anything negative towards you. I simply meant that, having manners, neither I nor my mother would want us to impose."

Ron and Harry were staring at her with widened eyes, and Hermione was frowning with a look that clearly indicated she had wanted to say the same thing. Severus looked somewhat shocked that she would dare speak to him that way. For a moment, he didn't speak, and she watched his face intently. Just as he finally opened his mouth, looking ready to blow, she tugged the napkin out of her lap and politely inquired, "May I use your floo?"

Harry had to admit, it was mildly amusing to see anyone, especially this girl, put Severus out of his element. He was normally so calm and cool when handling students… unless that student had been Harry. She, however, had managed to shock him. He supposed it came from the fact that she was bold, yet somehow, respectful enough to make it difficult for him to find the reason for his anger.

"I… no, you may not!"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "So you're going to refuse to let me talk to my mother?"

Severus scowled at her. "Do not act like I'm holding you prisoner."

"Seems like you are."

Severus opened his mouth to reply, and then snapped it shut again. He glared at her for a moment, and then turned and stormed from the room. The three exchanged looks, until they heard the floo flare from the other room. Several moments later, Severus returned.

"Well, Miss Weasley, it appears that you were correct. Your mother has taken no issue with your returning tonight."

Everything was quiet for a moment. Severus stood in the entryway to the kitchen, looking both angry and smug at the same time, and the four children didn't know quite how to react. Harry was inwardly seething at the rashness of his father. It had been completely unnecessary to drop everything and floo Mrs. Weasley; he was practically throwing his friends out, and only because Ginny had had the boldness to speak her mind and defend herself. He sat at the kitchen table, somewhat dazed, deciding what to do with his anger. Ginny was simply staring at Severus, with an unreadable expression on her face. Hermione and Ron were exchanging glances, though the purpose behind them was unclear.

"So does that mean we're-"

"Leaving? Yes, Mr. Weasley, you are leaving. We enjoyed having you, thank you for stopping by." His voice and expression were completely insincere. "The fireplace is right this way."

Harry shook his head to clear his thought, and rose. "Don't I get some say in this?"

Severus turned and looked at him, raised his eyebrows, and proclaimed a resounding, "No."

Harry clamped his mouth shut and followed the group to the parlour, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side as he walked.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Harry," Hermione said, hugging him and talking as though nothing was out of place. Harry rigidly accepted the hug.

"Yes, thank you for having us," Ginny replied, though she looked just about as grateful as Severus did pleasant.

Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Severus for a moment, and then reached out and shook Harry's hand. "Yeah mate… I'll see you on Boxing Day…" He glanced again at Severus, and added, "If you can still come."

"Oh, he'll be there, Mr. Weasley, have no fear," Severus replied, re-establishing the floo connection. "I'm not going to eat him for breakfast. He'll make it until the end of the holiday."

"That's not what I meant!"

"I'm sure it's not- and don't raise your voice to me."

"Ron, just go," Ginny said tiredly, motioning towards the floo. Hermione nodded and watched him go through, and followed shortly after.

Ginny waited for Hermione to disappear, and stepped forward. She turned to face Severus for a moment, seemingly debating whether or not to say anything to him. Deciding against it, she turned decisively to Harry and said unsmilingly, "I'll see you again soon, Harry. Take care."

"You too, Ginny," Harry said, equally as stiff. Both nodded to each other, and she disappeared through the floo.

Severus did not have to wait in suspense to see if Harry was angry. The boy immediately rounded on him, glaring fiercely, and cried, "What the hell was that?"

Severus' mouth and eyes widened in mock surprise and he exclaimed, "Language!"

"That was completely unnecessary," Harry proclaimed, ignoring him.

"Yes, I agree," Severus complied easily, walking past Harry and into the hallway.

"I didn't mean the language!" Harry called after him, following.

"Oh," Severus said, continuing on his way. "Well, then I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about how you made them leave like that," Harry clarified irritably, talking to Severus' back as the man refused to stop and converse with him. "You practically threw them out!"

"There was no throwing involved," Severus replied, heading up the stairs.

"They didn't need to leave."

"I was under the impression that they wanted to," Severus said over his shoulder, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. "If I was mistaken, surely Miss Weasley would have said something. She certainly has no problem with speaking her mind, does she?"

"That's not a crime, you know."

"But it is rather annoying." They reached the top of the stairs, and Severus stalked down the hallway.

"You just don't like my friends," Harry said, glaring at the back of Severus' head. "Are you purposely trying to make sure that they never want to come around again? Do you hate me that much?"

Severus stopped walking abruptly, and said with much less flippancy than before, "You know very well that that is not the case, Harry."

Harry continued walking until he was standing about three metres from Severus, and then answered him. "What is it, then? Why are you so determined to hate them?"

"I'm not," Severus said, turning around and frowning deeply.

"Is it because of their House?"

"Harry-"

"Is it because they are in Gryffindor?"

"No, Harry-"

"Is it simply jealousy? Is it because you never had any friends?"

"Harry!"

"Or maybe it's just Ginny! What, do you hate her because she's so like Lily? Because she's almost a carbon copy of your dead ex-wife? Is she an awful reminder, just like I was, of how you scared her away! How she was too terrified to-"

Before Harry could finish the sentence, he found himself slammed and pinned up against the wall with so much force that it knocked the wind out of his lungs.

"How dare you speak to me like this? Of your mother like this?" Severus' voice was a twist of a snarl and an aggrieved choke. For once, his cool mask of indifference was absent from his face, and his eyes projected every awful mixture of anger, pain, and disappointment tearing through him. His hands were tightened bruisingly on Harry's collarbones, crushing him against the wall and mere inches away from his neck. There was no mistake about it; Harry had gone too far. "I have been more than lenient with you! I have been more than generous! When will it be good enough?"

Harry's eyes were blazing, though the infuriation they held did little to mask his apparent fright. Severus' anger was not hindered by this, however. "I'm sor-"

"There is no apology for this," Severus growled, forcibly removing his own hands from Harry and taking a step back. Harry's hands flew to the aching place where Severus' hands had held him, and he raised his accusing eyes to meet Severus. The man was visibly shaking. "Go to your room… I don't want to see you again. Not today."

"Dad-"

"Don't!" Severus snapped, stepping back again. "Just… go!"

Harry swallowed and looked down, now shaking just as Severus was. At Severus' second bark of "Go!" he turned and ran towards his room, intent on avoiding his father for the remainder of his time in the house. This felt… unforgivable… on both of their parts.

He rounded the corner and stopped, leaning back up against the wall for support. He heard Severus' door slam seconds later, and allowed himself to slide down to the floor. He sat there, breathing hard, and could only focus on one thing.

He truly regretted his last remarks… and he was sure there was no way to repair the damage he had done.

xxx End Chapter 36 xxx

Chapter 37

Valediction

xxx

"There is no apology for this."

Holding Harry back against the wall, clenching his shoulders in what he knew was a painful grip, it took Severus a moment to realise what he had done… and another moment to realize why it felt so wrong.

The scary part was that for a moment, it hadn't seemed wrong at all... perhaps because so many similar scenes had played out between him and his father earlier in his life.

This realization did not alleviate Severus' anger, however. If anything, it magnified it. He was angry with Harry for what he had said, and angry at himself for allowing himself to be pushed so far over the edge.

Not trusting himself, Severus forced himself to remove his hands from Harry and took a step back. He didn't have to look down at his hands to know he was shaking, because he was still struggling to contain his fury, and the fact that such irrepressible rage had manifested scared him more than anything. Harry's eyes were trained on him, his expression betrayed, vulnerable, and yet, infuriatingly defiant, causing another surge of rage in Severus.

"Go to your room," Severus barked, struggling to control his volume. He had to remove the boy from his sight, before anything else happened. "I don't want to see you again. Not today."

"Dad-"

Another flare of pain crossed Harry's face as he said this, and the image of Harry crying this word out before Severus' fist connected with his jaw flashed through Severus' mind. "Don't!" Severus snapped, stepping back again. "Just… go!"

He watched as the boy lowered his head, clearly stung, and didn't move. Another upwelling of severe irritation, and Severus knew he could take no more. "Go!" he barked again, unable to let himself walk away before seeing Harry obey him, yet worried that if one of them did not leave, he would make things far worse.

Harry turned and ran down the hall, leaving Severus standing there, battling with the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. As he watched Harry flee, his rage ebbed away into an acute sensation of loss; something akin to grief. His eyes widened as he realized the magnitude of this situation; he raised his hand and ran it down his face, shaking his head. How could he have lost control so quickly? How could he have thrown away all the trust Harry had built up in him over something as meaningless as a few offensive remarks made in the heat of a teenage temper-tantrum? The boy had undoubtedly crossed the line, yes… but Severus could remember being a child, and feeling that there was no offence that deserved abuse from a parent. He hadn't severely hurt Harry… but he was on that path, if he did not fix this.

How could he have allowed his temper to escalate so severely? Even if only for a moment, he knew exactly whose example he'd been following when he'd thrown his son against the wall.

It took a moment for the rage and sorrow to give way to shock, and for that shock to wear off and morph into something resembling intense self-hatred. Severus heard Harry's heavy breathing down the hall; the boy had only turned the corner. However, Severus could not bring himself to go down there and continue the feud, so rather than going to him, he turned and stalked to his room. He reached it quickly, and jerked the door open, stepping inside and slamming it behind him.

Once inside, it took him a moment to regain his senses. He brought both hands up to his head and fisted them in his own hair, and stalked across the room to his window. He brought his hands down to rest on the windowsill, and looked out over his gloomy gardens. Shoulders hunched, he dropped his head, and stood there, simply breathing and concentrating on the rising and falling of his chest. Years as a Death Eater and double agent had taught him that anger and self-repudiation did little for one's functioning skills. He would get nothing solved if he did not at least calm down. He knew the feelings would return periodically throughout the day, and maybe even the week, but he had to decide what to do, and quickly. He had seen the anger in Harry's eyes; the boy was likely to do something rash.

Several minutes later, the slamming of Harry's door shook him from his meditative state. He turned his head to look at the door leading to Harry's room, and instantly locked it from where he stood, just in case. He couldn't face Harry right now, for fear that either his feelings of guilt or rage would overtake him completely.

Watching the door for a moment and listening intently for loud crashes or other noises in the next room, he wondered just how far Harry felt he had taken it. Perhaps growing up with those relatives of his… perhaps he thought very little of this sort of thing. Perhaps this was forgivable.

As soon as the possibility of forgiveness entered Severus' mind, it instantly retreated. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. The fact that Harry had been abused before only made what Severus had done ten times worse. He had hurt a child who had already experienced pain at the hands of the adults in charge of him. He'd asked for Harry's trust only to cast it carelessly aside almost as soon as the boy had given it away. He could only imagine what sort of psychological damage this was doing.

The fact also existed that even if he was forgiven, he couldn't promise that this wouldn't happen again. As much as he would have liked to, Severus could no longer guarantee that Harry was safe with him. He had obviously never thought he would lose control like that, or he would not have asked Harry to come stay with him for the holidays.

Severus cringed at this thought. He had promised that he would control his temper! He had made a promise to his son that he would try, even at the beginning! He had made a promise to himself that he would never act in any way resembling his father… and here he stood, still shaking from his violent encounter with his son. His son, who was sitting in the next room, who had probably placed silencing charms on his room to ensure that Severus could not hear him… was he crying? Was he throwing his belongings about in a fit of rage?

Was he packing his trunk?

Was he sitting, huddled up in the corner, watching his door intently and listening for footsteps, as Severus had done so many times as a boy?

Severus sincerely hoped not.

Was he calling someone for help? Did he feel unsafe now? Severus had seen the betrayal on his face. He had seen it there, as plain and obvious as the daylight breaking after night. In fact, he could see it now; he could remember every look in Harry's eyes, and it struck him somewhere deep. It felt like a blow to the chest; perhaps the same way Harry had felt when he'd been thrown up against that wall.

Severus could only be thankful that he hadn't actually taken a swing at the boy, but could he guarantee that he wouldn't in the future? He had never expected this to happen. How was he to know that something worse wouldn't eventually occur?

Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe everyone who thought Harry wasn't safe with him had been right.

Not only was Severus a danger to himself, he was a danger to everyone around him, and that now included Harry. He had hurt his wife, and now their child. Whereas his son had a saving-people thing, Severus clearly had a hurting-people thing. This was an unfortunate combination between the two of them, especially considering they shared so many other traits.

He cared for Harry, of that he was certain. He wouldn't be having these stabbing pains in his chest if it weren't for that fact, and he would still be violently angry, not sick to his stomach and weary. Not mortified at his actions. Not penitent.

Therefore, he had to do what was best for the boy… he had to contact Albus Dumbledore.

xxx

If Harry's probable hatred of him and his own feelings of shame and disgust hadn't been bad enough, Dumbledore's disappointment in him surely topped it all. He hadn't seen the man look so stricken in quite some time, and he hadn't been spoken to so coldly since long before he'd joined the Order.

His saving grace was that he was willing to make a sacrifice to do what was best for Harry. His confession had been his only absolution. He had explained himself well, he had thought. He had tried, he truly had; but Albus and Lily had been right, after all. He wasn't father material. He wasn't husband material. He wasn't anything to anyone, really. It was disheartening, but he would get used to the notion again. He had done it before, he could do it again. He had to; this was obviously the only good thing he could do for his son.

A night's rest, which had been intended to allow the two time to reign in their tempers, had done little good on Severus' end. If anything, he was feeling more awful when he woke up the next morning. He took the long way to Harry's room, simply because it gave him more time to mentally prepare himself. The boy would probably be relieved… and he knew that if he did not prime himself for this, it would surely break him.

Severus reached the door in less time than he had hoped for, and knocked reservedly. No answer came.

"Harry, I need to speak with you," he called through the door. "I know you're in there."

Inside, Harry looked over his shoulder at the door, features drawn into an expression of worry and contemplation. He didn't want to face his father right now; he wasn't sure when he would. The man had been positively irate the previous night; it was hardly possible that he had simply calmed down while he slept. If there was one thing he knew about Severus, it was that no one could hold a candle to his ability to hold a grudge. He doubted very much that Severus had forgiven him for what he had said, or had any remorse over how he had treated Harry.

Harry turned his head back to the window, relaxing his facial features and trying to remain calm, in case Severus decided to intrude. He masked the bitter anger, the betrayal, and the apprehension. He couldn't betray what he was feeling; the sheer vulnerability that would result was more than Harry could handle.

"Harry, you can open this door, or I will open it myself," Severus said evenly, hoping the boy didn't know many good locking charms. He really did not want to have to deconstruct any barriers at the moment.

Still, no answer came. Severus sighed resignedly, and pulled out his wand. A simple unlocking charm did it; the door swung open easily.

Harry was sitting on his bed, staring out the window with his back to the door.

"Harry?" Severus questioned, stepping into the room.

There was silence for several moments. Severus stood, staring at his son's back, and Harry refused to move even a muscle. His shoulders barely even heaved with his inhalation and exhalation; Severus got the impression that he was still feeling rather shocked, and more than a little depressed.

When Harry finally spoke, his voice was extremely hoarse. Whether from crying or yelling, Severus could not tell. "I have bruises," he said flatly, refusing to look at Severus.

Severus instantly recoiled, wincing and closing his eyes against the stinging sensation that suddenly occurred. He wanted to go to him, apologize over and over again… but he could not do that. He could not beg for forgiveness which he did not deserve, and his pride was too great to debase himself before his son.

"I never intended it to go so far," Severus said after a moment.

"Yeah, neither did I," Harry said in the same monotonous tone. "But that doesn't really excuse my actions, either."

"You were out of line," Severus conceded. "However, I am not here to make excuses. Surely you realize that?"

"Whatever you say, Severus," Harry said tiredly. He was really too bitter to sit there and allow Severus to apologize. He wasn't ready to forgive him, and he wanted the man to realize that he was still angry without having to take the risk of unleashing his anger to get that point across. He was… tired of caring. He didn't want to work at this anymore. It shouldn't have been so difficult.

Severus recognized that tone of voice. It was that of a person who was admitting defeat. "You do deserve better than this, Harry."

For the first time, Harry turned his head, glaring at Severus over his shoulder. "Says who? Even the people who care the most for me can't give me better. It seems if I deserved it, it would be made possible."

"I intend to make it possible."

"Oh, like you did before?"

"No, quite differently," Severus said as stoically as possible, bracing himself and coming around to stand at the foot of the bed.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I spoke with Albus."

"You told him about this?"

Swallowing some of his pride, Severus admitted, "I didn't know what else to do. I simply… I want what is best for you, Harry."

The flat tone of voice which with he spoke was not very convincing, this he knew, but he couldn't quite conjure the emotion which he knew ought to accompany such words. It was not in his nature to do so.

"Which is?"

"Clearly, not me."

"Meaning?"

"Albus has agreed to let you stay at his home with Lupin and him for the remainder of the holiday," Severus said, not quite meeting Harry's eyes. "I'm sure you will find your time with them rather more enjoyable than here with me."

With an upturned lip, Harry looked at Severus with an expression rivaling disgust. "So you're giving up, then?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the complexity of-"

"I'm the one who got thrown up against a wall, Severus! If anyone here understands how that's affected me, I think it would be me."

"You did not grow up the way I did!" Severus retaliated, rounding angrily on Harry. How dare the boy suggest he did not understand the effects of growing up with such a person as himself?

"You are not your father!" Harry cried, shooting up from his bed. Not for the first time, Severus was reminded strongly of Lily. It both amazed and horrified him, considering what they had gone through together. "The only reason you keep behaving like him is because you believe it's inevitable!"

"Did you learn nothing from last night, you foolish child? Do I seem like the type of man you ought to live with?"

Harry opened his mouth wide as if to retort nastily, but seemingly thought better of it at the last moment. He stared at Severus for a moment, before finally throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine," he snapped. "Send me away. If that's the way you want it, I'm not going to stop you. I'm not even sure I care anymore. If you really want me gone that badly… you could have just said so in the first place, without going through last night's whole ordeal."

"That is not what last night was about, and you know it."

"Whatever," Harry said dispassionately, moving across the room and beginning to pull his things out of his drawers, throwing them into a pile in the center of the room.

"Harry, you know I would not send you away," Severus said with a touch of irritation to his voice. "I have told you I enjoy your company."

"Then why are you doing this?"

Severus folded his hands in front of him, and said with some indifference, "I believe you should have the choice."

"The choice?" Harry repeated blankly, raising his eyebrows. Somewhere inside, he had the idea that Severus would not even offer if this was not what he wanted; for Harry to leave. He was a Slytherin, after all. He wouldn't do this if it weren't for his advantage. He didn't like having the stress of handling a difficult teen, and now that they were away from school, he had realized what he had taken on. Just as Harry had predicted he would.

"Albus has informed me that someone will be here to gather you within the hour," Severus said. "I am sorry for such short notice, but I rather assumed you would be more enthused about leaving. If you decide to stay… I'll be around the house."

Severus turned to leave, and stopped at the door. "I really do regret this not having worked… I suppose, considering our background, it was unavoidable. I should apologize for my lack of foresight… and self-control. I truly hope you do not inherit such traits."

Harry did not turn around at this, nor did he say anything before Severus left. Was that his idea of an apology, or simply another push to get Harry out the door?

Well, if that was what Severus wanted, then that was what Harry would give him. He would not inflict his presence upon the man any longer.

As angry as Severus contacting Dumbledore made him, he had to admit that perhaps it was for the best. He had been surprised with himself, as well, the previous night.

He wasn't doing Severus any good by being here, and Severus wasn't doing him much, either. It would be awkward when they got back to school, granted, but it was best that they ended this charade now, before things got out of hand.

But had it been a charade? Harry had developed a certain fondness for the man over time; that much was certain, and he didn't think Severus was the type to feign caring for him. It wasn't logical.

Harry looked around his room. He would be sorry to say goodbye to it. Even if he'd only spent two days in it, it had been a nice place to stay. Luckily, he hadn't had much time to spend thinking about the future he would have staying in this room, or the house.

It was best not to think of that now.

Harry sighed. In all likelihood, Severus was right; he needed to leave. Severus wasn't his father, (at least, from what Harry could tell. He didn't know much about Severus' childhood, but he knew Severus' father had been awful,) but maybe his behaviour the previous night had been a sign that Harry needed to leave.

Still, this felt like capitulation. They had tried so hard… they had both promised that this wouldn't happen. Was Harry ready to leave behind everything he had developed with Severus because of one incident? He was a risk taker, and perhaps it was going against the laws of his nature to give up now. Perhaps he needed to take the chance.

If it had been as simple as what Harry wanted, he knew what choice he would make. He would stay. He would try again. He would apologize for his actions and hope that his father welcomed him with open arms… but then, this was Snape. Professor Snape. Was he the sort of man to graciously take him back with a simple apology? Did he even want Harry around anymore?

Pondering this, Harry moved his trunk out from the corner of the room and began tossing his crumpled up clothes into it. Gradually, his tosses became more and more forceful, until he was throwing them in with such fury that he could hear the thump of each article piling onto the next. Soon after that, the furious throwing of various items had nothing to do with packing, so much as finding some outlet for this emotion. His throat was tightening, and his eyes watering. Why had this happened? Why had it come to this?

Finishing his packing, purposely leaving his room in an uproarious state, and flinging the top of his trunk shut, he stared at it for a moment and then flung himself onto his bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at the back of his head. How could Severus ask him to make this decision? It wasn't fair.

Harry was not sure how long he lied on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hair gripped in his hands, but it wasn't long before he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He sat up and stared at the door. Those weren't the widely spaced footsteps of his father; those were the even, light footsteps of another familiar person.

It took Harry a few moments to register what this meant. One, Severus was not with him, from the sound of it. He obviously didn't want to see Harry before he left… well, that was just fine. Two… this meant he was leaving.

Harry slowly slid off his bed and went to his trunk, jadedly clasping it shut and reducing its size so that it would be easier to carry.

"Harry?" Harry instantly recognized Lupin's voice drifting in through the crack in the door. The sound both soothed and shocked him to his senses. It was comforting to hear the voice of an old, understanding friend- yet under the circumstances, it was almost more discomfiting than calming. He straightened, waiting for him to come in. He could not seem to make his voice work, so he hoped that Lupin would take the liberty to simply enter.

"Harry?" Lupin questioned again, stepping inside. Harry turned and opened his mouth to say something, but all he could manage was an awkward squeak and a shift of the eyes. Now that reality was hitting him… well, the short while ago when Severus had told him the Headmaster was sending someone to pick him up, it had seemed surreal. Almost like an idle threat.

Apparently, Severus had been very serious.

Lupin watched Harry for a moment, and then made a sympathetic, throaty murmur of sorts and moved towards him, enveloping him in his shabbily robed arms. He rubbed the boy's back, saying, "I'm sorry things had to turn out this way, Harry."

Though Harry leaned into the comforting embrace, some part of his mind wanted to step back and protest. Maybe… maybe… things didn't have to turn out this way. This was really a very drastic solution to a problem which, in retrospect, wasn't so awful. After all, he had endured worse in the past.

Lupin stepped back and examined Harry, and then gave him a soft smile. "Come on," he said gently, giving Harry a benevolent pat on the shoulder and picking up his trunk. "We should go."

Harry nodded numbly and followed Lupin down the hallway, trying to mentally shut out the voice that was screaming at him to stop walking. He was… angry at Severus, right? He had been all morning. The man had overstepped his boundaries.

But then again, just what were those boundaries? Harry frowned at this thought. He had overstepped his boundaries as well. He'd said awful things, he knew. Up until now, he had pushed that fact to the back of his mind, but the truth of the matter was that he could be just as much as fault as Severus was. And he still didn't know how the man felt about this; he had been too angry to allow him to truly apologize.

Harry came to a realization, then. He could not just walk out of this house without speaking to Severus.

Yes, what Severus had done had shown poor judgment. Yes, it had hurt Harry. But was he willing to walk away from all of this simply because his father had trouble containing his rage one time out of the thousands he could have lost it?

It didn't seem right to abandon the man now.

If he stayed, the worst thing that could happen was that Severus could mistreat him again. He had been mistreated in the past; he could survive a few episodes here and there. And unlike his past mistreatments, Severus seemed genuinely sorry for what he had done. No, he had not gushed sentimentalities and begged for forgiveness. Yes, he was making another mistake by sending Harry away, but that could be linked to one thing that Harry knew was true about Severus.

He had avoidance issues. Just as Harry had done to him, he was pushing the boy away. Perhaps in his mind, this seemed like a good idea… but Harry knew different.

At least, he thought he did. And his intuition had never let him down before.

"Professor Snape thought it would be best if you did not have to see him before you left," Lupin said as they approached the entrance hallway, apparently seeing Harry's frantic eyes dart about the house, looking for the man. "You don't have to fear him, Harry. He's not angry with you for leaving… he just wants what is best for you, I'm sure." His voice was subdued and doubtful, as though he was trying very hard to contain what he was bursting to say.

Harry shook his head and opened his mouth, only to be smothered in a second embrace. "It's alright, Harry," the man said into the top of his head. "It's alright."

Lupin pulled back again and opened the door, taking Harry by the elbow and guiding him out.

"Professor," Harry started uneasily, glad to have regained his voice, but sick at the prospect of both leaving and staying. It was a bad situation with only bad choices to be made… but he couldn't live regretting not having stayed.

"Perhaps we should save conversation for Dumbledore's home, Harry," Lupin said stiffly, looking rather wary. He obviously thought Harry was about to go into an angry tirade about Severus, from the way he was surveying the area surrounding them, as though they were being watched.

They were about halfway down the path, now, and Harry craned his neck to look back at the house. "I can't do this," he whispered, trying to shrug off Lupin's grip on his arm.

"Of course you can, Harry," Lupin said soothingly. "We're almost to the end of the path, and then we can apparate."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head and trying to step back. "You don't understand. I can't do this to him. He needs me!"

"For what, Harry?"

"To show him that he's not the monstrosity of a man he thinks he is," Harry said, finally shaking off the older man's grip and turning back towards the house.

Lupin's hand caught his shoulder, and he felt himself being gently tugged back. "Harry, I beg you to give this deeper thought. If this becomes a pattern, can you say your life will be happy?"

"He's been better to me than any of the other adults in my life," Harry replied with an almost pleading quality to his voice. "He cares about me, and I care about him. I can't just ignore that. He deserves the chance."

"Harry," Lupin said more insistently, reaching out and grabbing him by both shoulders. He looked both hurt and distressed, perhaps due in part to Harry's slight on the adults in his life. "You know I can't let you do this. You're confused and caught in a bad situation; you don't know what you want-"

"What I want is to go home," Harry negated, shaking his head and pulling back. He was afraid that he was going to be kept from returning. All he wanted to do was run back to the house, talk to Severus- find out if he really wanted him gone, or if he was just making a poor attempt at nobility.

xxx

Severus watched from his room as Harry followed Lupin down the path from his house. His breathing was quickened, and he was disquieted by the fact that his senses were reacting to Harry's leaving more strongly than he had expected. He felt slightly light-headed, and his throat was throbbing. His hands were shaking for some unknown reason, and he could not find a way to cure these ailments.

He simply told himself, over and over again, that this was the best thing for Harry. He had been given the choice, and this was what he wanted… not that Severus blamed him. Yes, admittedly, every time he'd heard even the faintest noise, some small part of him had hoped that Harry was going to come through the door and tell him that he wanted to stay. Some part of him wanted to go down there and demand that Harry stay.

But he couldn't ask that of the boy. Not when he'd already given him the choice. He wasn't that cruel.

Severus watched for several moments, until something became apparent to him. Harry was trying to come back to the house, and the werewolf was stopping him. He froze for a moment. If he wanted to come back, then that was his choice! That had been the point of this!

He watched Lupin turn his boy around by the shoulders, and he had had enough. If Harry wanted to leave, that was fine- but he would not have the last marauder come and steal him away. It was his son's choice, not Lupin's.

xxx

Harry was not able to get a word in edgewise with the Lupin, who was insistently tugging him along the path, trying to reason with him. "-telling you, it will do you no good to stay-"

"Professor, please-"

"-at the very least, give yourself some time to decide-"

"-you don't understand-"

"Harry, I understand perfectly, but-"

"No!" Harry shouted, wrenching his hand from Lupin's grasp once again. "I can't just leave, I-"

"Harry-"

"I just want to talk to my Dad! I want to stay!"

"Harry," Lupin despairingly said again, placing two gentle hands on the boy and shaking his head. Harry struggled against him. He knew the man had good intentions and that he was simply following instructions to collect him; he knew what he was trying to tell him, but he had to at least find out if he was even wanted here. Harry tried harder to pull away, but Lupin held on with oddly tender strength. "Just come to Dumbledore's home. Give yourself a week's time, and then make your decision. I promise no one will stop you then."

Harry stopped struggling. So no one would force him to leave forever; that was something. Still, he didn't want to leave in the first place. He mumbled something under his breath, and Lupin gave him a questioning look. Knowing he would be questioned anyways, he repeated himself, "But that means I'll miss Christmas here," he said, mentally kicking himself for sounding so young.

Lupin's expression softened into a look of pity that quite perturbed Harry. "Listen- I know this is cruel… I know your whole life has been. Still, this is just another… bump in the road, you could say-"

"More like a gaping hole," Harry muttered, glaring off to the side.

"I understand, but-"

"No!" Harry shouted, throwing his hands down at his sides and stepping back. "You don't understand anything! You just don't get it!" He knew his anger was getting out of hand. He knew he ought to stop here… but he couldn't. Rationality wasn't getting his point across. He knew Lupin had the best intentions, but that didn't mean he could sit there and accept everything he was being told.

It was evident by his expression that Lupin's patience was disappearing. He looked frustrated by Harry's outbursts- and Harry couldn't have cared less. Harry opened his mouth to shout again, and Lupin finally seemed to break. "Do you remember why I had reservations about letting him into your life? Because I knew he would hurt you! I knew it would come to this! You didn't listen to me then, and look where it got you. At least listen to me now."

"No, I want to sta-"

"Harry!" Lupin's tone was an uncharacteristically frustrated bark that seemingly should have been followed by a short tirade, or lecture at the very least. However, Lupin said nothing, and his gaze shifted to the distance behind Harry.

"If the boy wants to stay," Severus' commanding voice declared, punctuating the silence that Lupin's muteness had left, "Then he stays."

Harry whirled around to see Severus striding (surprisingly both indignantly and elegantly, for all the unevenness of the ground) down the path towards Harry and Lupin.

Severus reached them shortly, and looked back and forth between them with a level expression. After a moment he straightened his frock coat and said evenly, "Well, Lupin, I suppose I should congratulate you. You really wasted no time in getting around to slandering me, did you? Well, at least you're on top of things. Glad to see you haven't come into that nasty habit of procrastination. But really, right on my very property? You couldn't have waited until you'd at least passed the gates?"

"If you must know, Severus," Lupin said with equal calmness, meeting the other man's gaze, "I was simply attempting to dissuade Harry from making a ghastly mistake… again. And yes, before you say anything, I do regard coming to live with you as being a ghastly mistake."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but Harry's quick movement at his side stopped him. He looked down questioningly, and saw a worried look on his son's face. "Please don't argue," Harry said quietly, looking down. "Can we just go back up to the house?"

Severus looked to Lupin, and then back to Harry. The boy looked tired, apprehensive… almost broken. He supposed he had already put the boy through enough… this was not too great request for him to acquiesce to. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, and was rewarded with the relief that shone on Harry's face. He looked back to Lupin, and stiffly said, "Good day, Lupin."

The other man looked both surprised and slightly irritated by this. He shook his head slightly, as if in awe, and said to Harry, "You're sure this is what you want?"

Harry nodded, but said nothing. No, he wasn't sure, and he knew his uncertainty would show in his voice. However, this was something he had to do. He couldn't simply leave. Not on these terms.

Lupin nodded again; Harry could tell he was unhappy about this decision, but with Severus standing here, he wasn't going to stop him. However, the defiance in the werewolf's expression when he looked to Severus gave warning to the protective feelings fueling him. He took a step forward, closer to Severus, and said quietly, "I will speak to Dumbledore about this. Undoubtedly, he'll feel you should be given a second chance… but I swear it; if you hurt Harry again, I will personally see that there will be hell to pay. He's been through enough. Don't you dare make it worse."

There were a million sharp retorts at the tip of Severus' tongue, and it took every ounce of self control he possessed to hold them in. Still, he was keenly aware of Harry's presence at his side, and he would do as he'd been asked… for Harry, and no one else. Certainly, he could sacrifice the satisfaction it would give him to put Lupin in his place in order to start regaining Harry's trust. "As I said… Good day, Lupin."

The bitterness behind Lupin's carefully controlled expression was almost as satisfying as any retort might have been, Severus found. He was careful to keep the smirk off of his face as he turned away from the other man and started walking up the path to his house. He was aware of the fact that Lupin had not left, but he wasn't about to turn around. To do so would most likely result in a loss of self control… and he'd been doing very well up to this point, he felt.

"Thank you for coming," Harry said very quietly as they approached the doors.

Severus winced, and he shook his head. "Don't thank me," he said, in an equally as soft voice. "I'm a bit surprised you wished to spare your… friend… when you had seemed so angry with him only a few moments ago… but I did nothing deserving of gratitude."

Harry shrugged. "He was just trying to help… but he doesn't know how. I still don't want you two to fight." He paused for a moment as Severus opened the doors and admitted them entrance, and then asked, "How did you guess that I was angry with him?"

"I was watching," Severus admitted, stopping in the middle of the foyer. "From my room… I saw."

"Oh," Harry said, looking down again. Did this mean that perhaps Severus really hadn't wanted him to stay after all? Had he simply been so angered by Lupin that he had intervened? Had he-

"I'm glad you wanted to stay," Severus said quickly, averting his eyes to the other side of the room. He kept his gaze steady with the opposite wall as he continued. "I never intended for you to think I wanted you to leave."

Harry was seized by a sudden surge of warmth at this, but he kept himself from reacting. He couldn't… he just couldn't. There was too much to be discussed to become overjoyed by this information… his bliss could be too easy transformed into despondency.

Harry nodded reservedly, and without quite meeting Severus' eyes, said, "I think there are some things we need to talk about."

Severus never would have thought it possible that he would feel any amount of respect for this boy. In his earlier years, he had always considered him to be the worst sort of child; impertinent, impulsive, negligent of the rules, and wholly committed to defiance. Even as he'd become accustomed to feeling a certain amount of affection towards the boy, even as he had seen the better side of his personality, he rarely felt respect for his son. However, this was one of those rare moments. Harry wasn't ignoring him, nor was he defying him. He wasn't avoiding the problem, and he wasn't overreacting to it… he was being rational, and wisely keeping his guard up. That was not to say that Severus intended to hurt him again… it merely showed good judgment, a principle that Severus could soundly respect.

"I quite agree," Severus found himself saying softly. He felt a bit ridiculous for avoiding looking at the boy's face, but he wasn't sure he could help it. He kept expecting to see that same betrayed expression that had graced his features so frequently in the past few days… and twisted around Lily's eyes, the expression quite reminded him of her reaction to the way he'd treated her all those years ago. It was more than unsettling. It was almost disturbing.

"Maybe the study?" Harry suggested, frowning in thought.

Severus didn't much like the idea of being stuck in that small room to have this conversation. He needed somewhere he could roam, and physically busy himself to ease the disquiet that was likely to settle between them. "Perhaps the grounds," Severus countered, reaching for his cloak.

If the thought of sitting in the study and talking to Severus hadn't seemed depressing enough upon speculation, wandering the grounds which were overladen with various dead plants sounded twice as unappealing. "I'd really rather not go out there," he said, causing Severus to stop mid-reach and look at him. The man was clearly surprised that Harry was objecting… perhaps he was not yet used to it. Harry normally went along with what he said.

With difficulty, Severus returned his hand to his side. Instinctively, he wanted to tell Harry it wasn't his place to decide where they talked… but he supposed he would need to get out of his completely authoritarian mindset if he and Harry were to make this work. Now was not the time to dictate. He had to listen.

Severus sighed. At this moment, he rather wished they were back at Hogwarts. Both of them had become comfortable with his quarters there, and this was still new territory for them. The house was so large, with such varying styles, that it was difficult to make a decision. Finally, Severus nodded and waved for Harry to follow him. They walked through the parlour and into the adjoining room.

"Better?" he asked, once they were in there. Harry nodded and went over to one of the couches, folding himself in half and sinking into it. He was somewhat glad to find that it resembled the couch in Severus' quarters in Hogwarts… the familiarity was comforting.

Severus sighed again and sat down in the chair across from him. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation, and from the look on Harry's face, neither was he.

"How to start?" Harry said quietly, tucking his knees up next to his torso and draping his arm across them.

Severus watched him for a moment. Harry had spoken his mental query. How would they start?

"I'm not willing to say that I overreacted last night," Severus said after a moment. His expression was serious, but not foreboding or reprimanding. He kept his gaze level with the ground. "I was harsh… and I do not believe my conduct was appropriate, but what you said was beyond reproach."

"That's not an excuse," Harry said, eyes hardened. He was willing to admit that he was wrong… but he knew that every time he allowed Severus to justify his behaviour, he would only be kindling the flame.

Severus narrowed his eyes and looked up at Harry. "It's not your place to tell me what is and is not an excuse," he said. As much as he agreed, he could not allow this boy to believe he was in control. Perhaps that sense of security had been what had led to his outburst.

"I know," Harry said simply, looking completely unapologetic. "But… I need you to know that I don't want to go back to my old way of life. I want this to work… but if you think this is okay, then I don't think it's going to. I need you to… I don't know, meet me halfway on this. This isn't about who's right and who's wrong, because really, we are both wrong in this situation."

"You take responsibility for your part in this, then?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows. Again, Harry was demonstrating more responsibility than he had grown accustomed to him displaying in the last five years.

Harry nodded stiffly. "I do," he said calmly. "But… I'm not sure you do."

Severus exhaled and brought his hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. How could he express to this boy how he regretted his actions, without throwing himself at the teen's feet?

"I am not accustomed to setting store by others' emotions, Harry, by any means," Severus said.

Harry frowned, unsure of what the older man meant. Severus watched his expression and then nodded resignedly, continuing.

"In the past, I have exerted more effort into controlling my own emotions than acting according to those around me. I am normally a man of great self restraint. It is necessary that I keep firm control over my every emotion throughout the course of every day… but you must realize that this makes me painfully aware of what I am feeling when I cannot suppress those emotions. When I feel true pain or rage, I feel it to the fullest extent… and it is not habitual to consider how this affects others. For a long time, I have hardly cared what my fits of pique and violent uproars have done to others- I always knew that the extent of the damage I could cause to those who cared very little for me was limited. I'm afraid it's been quite the adjustment, changing that state of mind. Clearly, I have not yet succeeded in doing so. Last night, when you were shouting at me… not only was it highly disrespectful, a behaviour which I am inclined to react strongly to in the first place, but also… the mention of your mother… it was uncalled for, Harry, and showed very poor judgment."

Harry nodded, glad that Severus was at least making an attempt to explain himself. It made it much easier for him to talk to the man if he knew how he felt.

"I suppose we both felt a bit betrayed last night," Harry said a moment later.

Severus was about to agree when they heard the floo flare from the other room. Dumbledore's unmistakable voice called for Severus, and he looked across the room to Harry.

"You should go see what he wants," Harry said, nodding towards the other room.

"I know what he wants," Severus said, rising. "And I can guess I won't be back any time soon… but we will continue this discussion when I return."

Harry nodded silently, secretly glad for this. It would be nice to have some time alone in the house, to sort out his thoughts and feelings of regret, shame, and distress. Severus' presence made him uneasy, especially with the unbalanced state of his emotions. He needed some time to wind down and digest what he and Severus had spoken about thus far.

From the doorway, Severus watched Harry for a moment. He was still unsure how they would repair this tear to the delicate armour holding their relationship together. Still, it was progress that they were able to talk it over… it was more than he'd ever been able to do as a child, and he was sure this was a good sign.

Dumbledore's insistent voice beckoned again, and Severus regretfully moved from the doorway. Not only was he irritated by the interruption (after all, he felt that he and Harry had been having a meaningful, albeit uncomfortable, discussion), but also, he was worried about what Albus would have to say to him. He knew he could not be forced to leave Harry in Albus' care, but the Headmaster certainly knew how to put a person to shame. He'd already explained himself to Dumbledore once, and he really didn't want to have to go through this all over again. The man had been fairly lenient when he'd known Severus was ready to release the boy to his care… but how would he react to this new development? If he wanted Harry out of there, Severus knew he would do everything he could to make that happen.

"Headmaster," Severus soberly greeted the head in his fireplace as he stepped into the room.

"I think you and I need to talk, Severus," Dumbledore said, tilting his chin forward and frowning up at Severus.

"I thought you might say that," Severus said tiredly, stepping forward. "Well, move back, I'm coming through."

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows as if to say, there's no need to be rude, but said nothing. After a moment, his face had disappeared from the fireplace. Bracing himself, Severus stepped into the illuminated fireplace.

When Severus' arrived in Dumbledore's home, he was not surprised to see Lupin standing not far behind the older man. "Don't you think we could have this discussion without him?" Severus asked, irritably jerking his head towards Lupin.

Dumbledore gave Severus a vaguely irritated expression. "Severus, please, be civil. Remus is just as involved in this as you and I are-"

"Only because you made it so," Severus reminded him through clenched teeth, set on edge by the positively poisonous glares Lupin was directing his way. What right did this man have to act like the protector of his child?

"I should remind you that it was you who created the circumstances which made my involvement necessary," Lupin said evenly, visibly forcing himself to relax his face into a more calm expression to match his voice.

"Your involvement is never necessary, Lupin, you just pretend it is to make yourself feel important. Just like Black was in the days before his death- searching recklessly for some sort of purpose. I would advise caution- you would not want to contribute to some sort of pattern-"

"Are you threatening me?"

Severus dropped his jaw in mock offence. "I would never."

"Severus, Remus!" Dumbledore sharply reprimanded the two of them, staring furiously at each in turn. "How are we to discuss the issue of the child if you are both acting like children yourselves?"

While Severus glowered crossly at both Lupin and Dumbledore, Lupin set his jaw and said with strained composure, "You're absolutely right, Headmaster."

Severus wanted to roll his eyes. Of course, Lupin was going to act like the golden child… ahem, adult, and make Severus out to be the worst of the two. Well, Severus would have none of that. "My apologies, Headmaster," he said, suppressing his infuriation with Lupin. "We were out of line."

"Quite," Dumbledore conceded, nodding. "Now, can we perhaps discuss this as gentlemen?"

"I'm perfectly amenable to that," Severus said coolly. "You might want to inquire the same of Lupin. He seems a bit irascible today, if you ask me. Must be his time of the month," he added as an afterthought, inwardly smirking.

"Severus, really-" Lupin started irritably. Severus put his hands up and shook his head.

"I was merely referring to your little lycanthropy problem," Severus said mildly, raising his eyebrows into an expression of clearly feigned innocence.

"We are not here to discuss Remus, are we, Severus?"

"No," Severus admitted, folding his arms and sighing. He sincerely wished in this moment that Lupin was not present. It was the only thing hindering him from having a real discussion with the Headmaster.

Dumbledore studied Severus for a moment, and then, as though he had read Severus' mind, turned to Lupin. "Perhaps Severus and I should speak first," he said decisively.

"Headmaster, I really think-"

"Remus, please," Dumbledore said gently, gesturing towards the door.

"Honestly, arguing with the Headmaster," Severus chided quietly, shaking his head. "And when he allows you to stay in his home, unsupervised, because you have no where else to go…" Severus shook his head.

Lupin snapped his mouth firmly closed, choosing not to respond directly to Severus. He looked at Dumbledore and shook his head slowly. "This is the man you choose to send Harry to? I certainly hope the boy is not put through the same constant ridicule the rest of us face in Severus' presence."

"Of course not, Lupin. The abuse is merely physical," Severus sneered, eyes flickering to the ceiling.

"Is that a confession?" Dumbledore asked smoothly, turning around and aiming a gaze at Severus that told him he was quite finished with his behaviour. "You are hardly in a position to be flippant, Severus. Consider that few people are pleased with you at the moment. If I were you, I would maintain as agreeable a demeanor as possible, for you are the one at a disadvantage. Pointing out Remus' supposed flaws will do nothing to make us forget yours."

Severus set his jaw and aimed his gaze downward. Not only was he effectively chastised by the Headmaster, but also, it was almost degrading to have all of this said to him in front of Lupin. Severus bit back any reply he came up with; Dumbledore was one person whose authority and intellect he knew he should not undermine. Any retort would be met with an equally as cutting, though more noble, rejoinder.

Dumbledore allowed his words to sink in for a moment, satisfied with the stifling silence that fell over the room. Severus' lack of rebuttal indicated that the reprimand had penetrated his thick skull.

"Headmaster-"

"Remus," Dumbledore interrupted tiredly, holding up a withered hand, "Please. Give the two of us some privacy."

Despite the reluctance in Lupin's expression, he wisely said nothing more. He nodded silently and turned to leave, avoiding eye contact with the object of his current ire.

"I'm surprised you've managed any parenting at all, Severus," Dumbledore uttered, turning around slowly to face him. "Your behaviour resembles a child more closely than it does a responsible adult."

"My apologies, Headmaster," Severus said tightly. He disliked apologies, but had learned long ago that where Dumbledore was concerned, it was best to offer them before they were torn from you. "You know I have a weakness where any of Potter's comrades are concerned."

"Which Potter?" Dumbledore asked, lifting his chin and waiting for Severus' answer.

"Senior, of course," Severus said restrainedly, forcing his short temper to abandon him. It would not do to lose control now, when he had already come dangerously close to doing so in the Headmaster's eyes.

"Oh," Dumbledore said mildly, raising his eyebrows and glancing downward. "I only ask because you apparently have a weakness where your son's friends are concerned, as well."

Severus narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He had not failed to notice Dumbledore's subtle use of the word 'son'… this was a good sign. It was a small sign, granted, but good nonetheless. "Miss Weasley was terribly out of line-"

"She has a temper, yes, but I doubt she was anywhere near terrible. And if I am not mistaken, that was never a quality that you hated when you were younger-"

"Can we please stop drawing similarities between Miss Weasley and my former wife? It almost feels indecent-"

"No one is suggesting that you feel in any way unseemly towards her, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly. "If you did decide to look for another partner, at any cost, I very much doubt you would choose someone so very similar to Lily. You would choose someone with more… variance from her personality, and looks. After all, she can hardly be replaced."

Severus was grinding his teeth inside his mouth to keep from releasing a long string of insults worthy of the Headmaster. "I'm not interested in-"

"No, no, of course not," Dumbledore said mildly, nodding in agreement.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion, and asked abruptly, "Why are you stalling?"

"Whatever do you mean, Severus?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. I am here to speak with you about Harry, not my… dating preferences!"

Dumbledore nodded, no humour in his eyes. "So we are. I was hoping to take your mind off your quarrel with Remus, actually- and I only tell you this because I know that you will figure it out even without my saying as much. I need your mind on this."

"It is."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said in way of consent, folding his hands in front of him. "Severus… do you love him?"

Shock briefly graced Severus' features, followed by confusion. "Do I- what?"

"It is a very simple question, Severus. Do you love him?"

"It is not a simple question," Severus said slowly, shaking his head. "It is a very complicated question that involves a very complicated answer, taking into account all the different factors of how love is created and what sort of love you mean. It is by no means uninvolved."

"Severus… it is a much simpler concept than you make it seem. Do you care for him? Do you worry about him when he is away? Do you dwell incessantly on whether or not you are making the right choices for him? Has he become a necessity for your happiness?"

Severus wanted to deny every one of these things. He wanted to revile the Headmaster for even daring to suggest them, and claim that he needed no one aside from himself. He wanted to do anything to offset the feelings of vulnerability and gaping openness that the mere suggestions had created in him. However… he did care for Harry. He did worry when the boy was away. He did dwell… almost obsessively so… on the right and wrong choices he could be making while parenting him.

He had become a necessity for his happiness. The sad part of it was that Severus had failed to realize how happy he was, because he regularly denied that such feelings could exist.

"I do," he said quietly, nodding.

"Then you know what you must do," Dumbledore said in an equally quiet voice, stepping forward. "I realize that growing up as you did… this is not easy for you. You have no example to follow. But you must recognize that this does not excuse any sort of abuse; not physical, not verbal, not neglectful. Nothing justifies these acts, especially where your own child is concerned."

"I know that," Severus said.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Well… prove it."

"And if this isn't the best choice?"

"Severus, do you want to give him up?"

"No…" Severus answered slowly.

"Does Harry want to give up?"

"…No."

"If I wanted you both to give up, would Harry be at your home with you standing in front of me?"

"I suppose not," Severus admitted.

"It was the wrong thing to do, Severus. You know that… and that fact tells me that it will not progress to the level that you fear it will. I will speak with Harry after a few days, when he is beginning to get comfortable again… you both need to work on this."

"You needn't speak with him," Severus said tiredly. "I've already informed him that this is something he needs to work on as well-"

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled audibly. "Severus… tell me you didn't indicate that this might have been his fault…"

"Well, he is partially to blame, that's all I really-"

"Severus! You cannot ever tell a child that it is his fault that he's been hurt! Do you have any idea the psychological ramifications that will have? The boy already doubts himself in regards to his relationships with adults; do you really think it will be beneficial for him to start believing that all the failures originate with him?"

"Albus, the boy has matured significantly- surely he will realize that I never meant it was his fault."

"Severus, how old are you?"

"Thirty-seven," Severus answered.

Dumbledore nodded. "Think of the guilt complex you have, even at this age. Maturity has nothing to do with it, Severus."

xxx

Visible from the parlour, Harry was still sitting in the same spot Severus had left him in when he returned. He was leaning on the arm of the couch and staring across the room; he hadn't heard Severus come in through the front door.

Rather than flooing back, Severus had apparated back to his home, hoping that the walk up to the door might give enough time for the numb, deadened feeling he'd acquired to wear off. The impact of Dumbledore's words had been more than significant; it had been harrowing.

Severus stood quietly in the parlour, unable to move towards the next room. Could he say what needed to be said? Would he choke and hurt the boy again because of a moment of indecision and a defensive statement?

He did know what needed to be done. He needed to do as people kept instructing him: to be the adult. He was the one who needed to take responsibility first, instead of attempting to force Harry to be the first one to admit remorse. He needed to fix this. He certainly couldn't expect Harry to do it; that wouldn't be right.

Vexed and distressed, Severus steeled his nerves and made his way to the door of the other room. Harry looked up at him and gave him a half-hearted smile, sending another surge of guilt through Severus. He had been the one to make his smile so melancholy.

"I didn't hear you come in," Harry said.

Severus nodded. "I apparated."

Severus was unsure whether it was his tone of voice or facial expression that alerted Harry to the fact that something was off, but the boy instantly understood. He stopped forcing his smile, and knitted his eyebrows together in anticipatory thought, watching Severus intently.

"I'm sorry," Severus softly said a moment later. Harry's expression changed; he was seemingly shocked that Severus had come right out and said this without any prompting.

Harry's face alone made Severus want to stop and leave it at that. He didn't want to continue on, throwing down his pride and stamping all over it. Still, he knew he must. "I reacted out of anger, and gave in to my rage. I should not have done that… it was irresponsible of me as an adult placed in charge of you… as your father, in whom you should be able to place the ultimate trust. Harry, I thought I could never regret anything as much as what I did to your mother… but I find this competing for a close second. I couldn't stand it if it had gone any further."

Not for the first time that day, but for very different reasons, Harry found himself rendered incapable of speech. He felt rather embarrassed by the wateriness of his eyes, and had to turn his head away for a moment to regain his composure. "Thank you," he said softly, head still turned towards the couch. "That means a lot to me."

Severus simply nodded. Like Harry, he found himself currently unable to speak, though it was more out of embarrassment and an immense feeling of awkwardness that he was unable.

Several minutes passed in which each was content to remain silent. Severus quietly moved to sit in his chair, resting his elbows on its arms and staring at the ground. Harry remained curled up on the couch, head resting against the high rising back and staring straight ahead.

It was awhile before Harry found his voice, and his nerve, to speak again. "Do you really mean that?"

Severus frowned, looking almost offended. "Do you honestly think I would say something like that if it wasn't incontrovertibly true?"

Harry shrugged and looked down. "People say a lot of things…"

"Such as promising to hold their tempers?"

Harry's eyes flicked guiltily up to Severus, and he gave a jerky nod.

Severus couldn't deny that this tugged insistently at his conscience, making him feel positively ashamed. Still, he attempted to keep his face relaxed, and nodded. "Harry, as much as I can say that I'll work on my temper… I can't guarantee that I can keep it in check. I should never have been foolish enough to make such a fallible promise to you. I… I gave you the choice of living with Dumbledore for a reason."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded again. Severus noted his pained expression, and added softly, "Harry, I hope you know that I don't blame you for this."

"Well, I was out of line-"

Severus shook his head, and said firmly, "As mature as you may be, as much weight as you can carry on your shoulders, you are still the child. I acted inappropriately, and nothing excuses that- this is not your fault. I expect better behaviour from you in the future, but by no means does that mean that you are to blame for yesterday's events."

Harry did not verbally reply; he looked oddly relieved, doubtful, and guilty all at once. The mixture did not make for a happy expression, and Severus grimaced at the speculation of what might be running through the boy's mind.

"You realize that staying with me could not be the best choice…"

"No," Harry protested, looking up. The doubt and guilt were instantly replaced by something else: resolve. "This is… this is hard, but not impossible. We can… I'm sure we can find some way to make this work. We just both have to work on our tempers-"

"Harry-"

Harry's mouth opened and shut again, making Severus realized he hadn't been finished. It was a good indication of Harry's effort to be more respectful. Wanting to know what Harry had been about to say, Severus discontinued his sentence and gestured for Harry to continue.

"I'm sort of… glad to know that you don't blame me entirely for what happened…"

"I don't blame you at all."

"Yes, well. I still made a mistake, and I'm going to… try not to do it again. And I am sorry. But unless you ask me to, I'm not leaving. My mother never gave up on you… neither will I."

"Your mother did-"

"No, you gave up on her first. Are you planning to do the same to me?"

Severus closed his eyes in a tight grimace, and shook his head. "No, but-"

"Maybe the problem," Harry offered, "is that you're so convinced within yourself that you're going to fail. You have to realize that you're not your father."

Severus' eyes snapped open again, his gaze accusingly flying to Harry. "Did you hear that in one of those dreams?"

Harry frowned in confusion, doubt and cautiousness beginning to dissolve in the flow of conversation. "No… why?"

Severus relaxed marginally, and admitted tightly, "Because, it's exactly what your mother used to say to me. And it's the second time you've said it today."

"If everyone says it to you," Harry started tentatively, unfolding his legs and sitting forward, "Then why don't you ever listen?"

"Harry, take this into consideration. I've spent my whole life being told…" Severus faltered, and shifted his gaze to the floor again, "…awful things about myself. It's not easy to refute a lifetime worth of criticisms and terrorizing with the lies of those who care for you."

"They aren't lies," Harry said resolutely, folding his arms. It was amazing… he would never have pictured this strong adult as such a tormented individual… not in this sense. It was clear that the ghosts of his past were still haunting him. "When you care about a person, you don't lie to them."

"Dumbledore has lied to you-"

"Dumbledore cares for me and you in a different way. He tries to protect people from the world. You, and I, and probably mum all know that shielding people from the truth is no way to protect them. Have a little faith that none of us would handicap you that way. We care too much to lie."

Severus narrowed his eyes, carefully scrutinizing his son. "You talk about her as if she's still alive."

"Well, from what I'm told, her presence on earth was so strong when she was alive… I don't see how death could just erase her. Do you really think it could?"

A small smile appeared on Severus face, and he shook his head. "No, I suppose not."

A moment passed, and when Severus said nothing else, Harry advised softly, "If you don't start believing it, it's just going to make things worse."

Severus gave him an odd half smile, and asked, "When did you start giving me advice?"

Harry grinned and made a show of checking the nonexistent watch on his wrist. "Oh, I'd say about… ten minutes ago."

Severus nodded, and rose to walk around to where Harry was sitting. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder and gave him a weak smile. "I suppose it's a very good thing that you are your Mother's son… thank you for this, Harry."

The grin present on Harry's face faded into a softened, serious look, and he nodded. "People deserve second chances… and to have others care about them."

Severus nodded his appreciation and removed his hand, while Harry continued. "I can't say I wasn't angry when it happened… I was really angry. But umm… I guess when I was leaving, I realized I couldn't just leave you here. You don't deserve to be abandoned."

"I'm not so sure about that," Severus replied quietly, turning to leave the room.

Harry frowned determinedly and rose from the couch, catching Severus by the arm. "Well, I am."

Severus shook his head. "How can you just forgive people, Harry? What possesses you to do it?"

Harry shrugged. "It's the right thing to do. Listen… I can't say I'm completely over this. I can't say that I don't worry this could happen again… but I'd rather make the best of a bad situation than just give up. I know you didn't do it out of malice… I know it was a heat of the moment kind of thing. And you regret it… that in itself is more than Vernon Dursley ever did."

Severus furrowed his eyebrows, and turned around completely. "Harry, did he ever physically hurt you?"

Harry laughed; a bitter, quiet laugh. "Did you ever really doubt it? Yeah… but most of the time, it was nothing big. He never broke any bones or left any awful bruising… just a few smacks and tosses here and there."

Severus' expression darkened, and Harry could see that vengeance was forming in his mind. "I'm serious, it was nothing that awful," he said hurriedly, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "And what's past is past."

"It's not the past, Harry, if you have to go back there this summer," Severus said in a low growl, turning and walking from the room. Sure that Severus expected him to follow, Harry quickly played the shadow and walked into the next room.

"He's not that stupid," Harry argued, following him. "When he found out about… about Sirius…" Harry choked on the man's name a little. He was normally very good at keeping him off his mind… but mentioning him was still hard. Also, he couldn't help but be afraid that the mention of his dead godfather might set Severus off. He waited a moment, and Severus shot him an irritated look.

"I'm not going to punish you for mentioning Black, so you can continue," he said, gesturing for Harry to do so.

Harry nodded and went on. "He wouldn't so much as yell at me most of the time."

Severus raised his eyebrow in an expression of clear doubt, and Harry amended, "Okay, fine, he still yelled at me a lot. But I got food, and he sure wasn't going to burst into my room and start hitting me or anything-"

"He did that before?" Severus roared, whirling around again.

"No!" Harry quickly denied, throwing his hands out. "No! I- no, he didn't, I was just saying he wasn't going to-"

"Why are you protecting them?" Severus demanded, crossing his arms.

"I'm not," Harry said. "I'm protecting you. I know if you jump to the wrong conclusion you'll go marching down to Surrey, and that's not what I want… because you'll probably end up in Azkaban, and I'll be right back where I started. Is that what you want? It's not what I want."

"Well of course I don't want to go to Azkaban," Severus scoffed. "But I want the truth."

Harry nodded. "I was never heavily abused by Vernon. I may have been manhandled from time to time, and I might have gotten a few good cuffs around the back of the head… but physically, they never tormented me."

"And emotionally?"

Harry shrugged, and then nodded in acknowledgement. "Well… I suppose that's a different story. But you can't exactly press charges with emotional scars as evidence, can you?"

Severus closed his eyes and shook his head. "No… no, you can't."

"Listen, don't worry," Harry said placatingly, receiving a glare from Severus. He knew it was the soothing tone of voice for which he was being scowled at; the man hated to feel like he was being manoeuvred, or worse, pitied. "If they know that you're backing me up now- if they started feeding me just because of Sirius, imagine how they'll treat me when they know it's you!"

"And how would that change anything?"

"Well… remember that visit you paid us during the summer?"

"All too well, yes," Severus said stiffly, eying Harry with suspicion.

"Well... I was thinking you could pay us another one."

Severus could not stop the appreciative, yet dark smile from curling around his thin lips.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Severus' expression. "I take it you like my idea, then."

Severus gave a low laugh, and inclined his head. "It has its merits," he admitted. Harry smiled and shook his head.

"So… are we still doing, you know, Christmas and everything?" Harry asked a moment later, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Well, who would I be to call off Christmas?" Severus asked, frowning. "Assuming you can stand me for such long amounts of time… we will proceed with our plans."

"I think I can handle it," said Harry, putting on a pensive expression.

"Well, then we will have dinner in several hours," Severus said, secretly glad he hadn't needed to go through the awkwardness of bringing up this topic. Harry had done that for him.

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding. "But umm… I'm going to go up to my room for awhile, if that's alright…"

"I never meant for you to think me so oppressive," Severus replied, frowning. "Of course, if you want to go up to your room, you can."

"Well, I just… kind of… left a mess, this morning," Harry admitted shamefacedly, flushing brightly. "I thought I should clean it up…"

Severus raised his eyebrows in understanding. "I see," he said, careful not to sound overtly reproving. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely surprised by this bit of information. "Well, if you don't come to find me before dinner, I will knock on your door."

Harry nodded. "Well, I'll probably come to find you anyways… but yeah, if I don't…"

Both nodded, each unknowingly thinking the same thing. If making plans for dinner was awkward, that spoke volumes about what dinner itself would be like. All at once, they were both blatantly aware of the lack of comfortable familiarity that had existed between them. It was still attainable; their reconciliation had made this much clear… but it was equally as obvious that they were going to have to work very hard to become what they had been before.

xxx End Chapter 37 xxx

Chapter 38

A Milder Sort of Christmas

xxx

With the use of magic, it did not take Harry long to clean his room. A reparo easily took care of the destroyed pillow on the floor, and Tibby, the ever-efficient house elf that she was, slyly unpacked his clothes and cleaned what he had missed while he was using the bathroom.

Honestly, Harry had not expected this to take long at all. He had used it as a ploy to avoid the awkward silence that was bound to follow their conversation. As much as he had wanted to stay, he did not particularly relish spending every waking moment with Severus; at least, not today. While there were moments when it seemed nothing was changed, there was constantly a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that the elements of their relationship were now somewhat distorted.

Also bothering him was the fact that Lupin could perhaps be angry with him for wanting to stay. As empathetic as the man usually was, Harry doubted whether he realised what it felt like to be in his position. He could see why Lupin would be protective of him. He still considered him to be James' son, and Sirius' godson. It would be difficult for him to accept that Severus was his father now, especially after the man had hurt so many people he'd cared for.

Harry knew that Severus was often unkind. He recognized that the man had an awful temper that couldn't be rivaled. But the truth was that no one could ever be without fault. He didn't expect Severus to be, and he certainly hoped that he wasn't expected to be. Humanity was universal.

With this thought, Harry frowned. Perhaps he needed to pen Lupin and explain… and maybe apologize. He realized he hadn't really said much to Lupin about this, and he wanted the man to really understand.

Making the quick decision to brave the hallways so that he could get some parchment from the study, Harry moved to the door and out into the hallway. With a quick glance around, Harry walked quickly towards the end of the hall and turned. He wasn't being overly cautious; if he did happen to run into Severus, he would simply explain that he was going to go get some parchment. As he had learned over the past few weeks, the man wouldn't appreciate being hidden from. Still, Harry wasn't eager to run into him again. If he could wait until dinner to see him, he was sure he would feel much less out of depth.

Perhaps it was due to his growing familiarity with the house, but the trip down to the study did not feel as treacherous as it had before— he did not feel the need to glance around corners to check to make sure Severus wasn't coming. He didn't feel so uneasy. He found this odd, considering the circumstances.

Harry retrieved the parchment from the study quickly, and it only took him a moment to decide to write his letter in his room, rather than the study. He would rather dislike being happened upon by Severus and asked about the letter; he didn't much relish the idea of explaining that he was writing a letter to Lupin, apologizing for wanting to stay. He simply didn't want to deal with the conversation that would most certainly follow.

Harry returned to his room equally as quickly as he had left it, and found himself wishing he had a desk in there. He considered moving the low table across the room to sit in front of his bed, but reflected that he would be writing at a rather awkward angle. He frowned at this thought for a moment before shrugging and sinking to the floor, laying the parchment out in front of him and moving to lie on his stomach, quill in hand.

Dear Professor Lupin, Harry wrote, still unsure how to address him. Despite the fact that Lupin hadn't taught in years, he had been good enough a teacher to keep the title, at least in Harry's book.

I'm not sure when I will see you again, so I wanted to explain some things before it's been too long to recall what I really want to say. I felt that a lot of things were left unsettled earlier when I went with Severus, and I'd like to resolve them before things between us get too tense. I consider you a good friend, and I don't want to lose that.

I'm really sorry if you think that I'm taking your guidance for granted; I'm not. In fact, I really appreciate that you care, that's why I couldn't stay truly angry with you. However, this doesn't change the fact that Severus is my father, and I can't abandon him.

I know you think I'm doing this in the hopes that I'll have someone to care for me, or because I'm naïve. None of these things is the case. I know Severus can be difficult and callus, but he really isn't always like that. There are a lot of things you just don't see unless he lets you. I know he cares for me.

I won't stay if things like this keep happening; I promise you that. But I don't think they will. He's trying, Professor, he really is trying. I think he deserves another chance.

Please understand that this means a lot to me, and don't be upset or think that I'm making a mistake out of weakness and a reluctance to walk away. No relationship is perfect- no person is perfect. Wouldn't it be more naïve to expect perfection than to expect and deal with difficulty?

I hope to hear from you soon,

Harry

Harry did not reread his letter. He had written what he wanted to say, and knew that if he looked at it again or gave it time he would have second thoughts. Folding up the letter and addressing it to Lupin, he immediately summoned Tibby and asked him to give the letter to Hedwig when she returned to the house.

Once Tibby had gone, Harry shook his head and flopped onto his bed, staring up at the golden canopy. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned over onto his side, pulling down a pillow to place under his head. Realizing for the first time how weary the day's events had rendered him, he allowed his eyes to fall closed.

It wasn't long before Harry could feel the temptation of sleep tugging at his mind, pulling him towards a state of unconsciousness. Unwilling to battle the impulse and welcoming the chance to take a break from the extremely complex thoughts and feelings plaguing him, he kept his eyes shut and slowly let go of awareness. His last thought was that perhaps some sleep would rid him of the dread pitted in his stomach at the thought of facing Severus for the rest of the week.

xxx

Severus, ever the avoidant, found solace in the remaining work he had to do in the lab-to-be on the third floor. He had a series of counters set up around the perimeter of the room, with plenty of space to move about (a necessity if he, Miss Granger, Harry, and sometimes Dumbledore would be working in there) and two large islands in the different spots in the room.

Upon reflection, he realized he had set it up as a larger, more elaborate replica of his dungeons at Hogwarts. The small room in which he was able to brew independently was often insufficient in space, and he normally found himself setting up cauldrons in his classroom as well. Even the Potions room that the Dark Lord had once provided him with had been less than idyllic. He had often given thought to the many things he might accomplish with a greater work area, but had never really considered it a possibility.

As soon as Severus finished fortifying the shelves he'd constructed to hold supplies and finished warding the doors on the various cabinets, he would be ready to re-clean and equip the room for use. The Order had been working to find the things he would need for his tasks. Naturally, they were all on separate assignments and had no idea for what purpose they were to acquire these items, but that fact mattered very little as long as they were obtained in the end. Soon, he would be coming on the weekends to begin work on the potion.

As Severus worked on the lab, he was coming to a significant realization. It was important that Harry stay with him. He had already begun to gather materials that he would use to instruct Harry in his training over the summer. He was close to finishing Lily's old white room so that his son would have the best facilities possible to learn strong white magic. He had submitted a long list of Dark Magic books to Dumbledore in order for approval. He was the one who was most able to instruct Harry in these things. If for no other reason, he had to control himself so that Harry could gain the training experience.

He was still unsure what kind of emotional or fundamental benefit his presence in his son's life provided. He was unsure whether he was a good influence or if he was damaging Harry's psychological health. However, it was becoming clear that Harry wanted him in his life, and he supposed that abandoning the boy for the purpose of 'doing what was best' for him might have detrimental effects, even in comparison to the outcome of the alternative. He owed it to Harry to stop doubting himself and focus on what he could help his son to accomplish: learning the skills necessary to defeat Lord Voldemort.

xxx

When Harry awoke, he worried for a moment that he had missed dinner. He awoke abruptly, as though his mind was alerting him to something, only to glance at the clock and realize he'd been asleep for barely an hour. Frustrated at this (for this meant that he would have to find another way to pass the time until dinner), Harry huffily turned over onto his stomach and let out a long sigh. He really didn't want to stay up in his room all day and dwell on what had happened; he needed to clear his head.

Glancing out the window at the dreary state of the skies and the frost pressing against the glass from the chilly December weather, Harry rose and pulled a long, thick grey jumper from his drawer. He pulled it ungracefully over his head, arms twisting at odd angles as he poked them through the stretchy sleeves. Dressed for the weather and feeling considerably warmer, he headed for the door.

Harry could conclude from the quiet state of the house and emptiness of the hallways that Severus had shut himself up in one of the rooms. He didn't particularly mind this fact, but gave consideration to the fact that he might be expected to notify Severus of when he left the house. Severus hadn't stated specifically that this needed to be done, but Harry could guess that Severus wouldn't react well to his strolling out the front door without so much as a word. He might even think Harry was running away.

For the second time that day, Harry called for Tibby. She promptly appeared, waiting expectantly for instructions.

"Tibby, could you go tell Master Snape that I will be going outside for a walk, if that's alright with him?"

Harry watched the elf carefully for a reaction, remembering the last time he had disregarded her horror at one of his requests. Much to his pleasure, she nodded without hesitancy.

"Shall Tibby report back to Master Harry with a reply?"

"Yes, that would be great," Harry said, offering an encouraging smile. He was glad to see that she was becoming more accustomed to his presence in the house, and less timid around him.

Again, she nodded. "Tibby shall return shortly," she said, bowing her head and disappearing with a small pop.

Harry exhaled and moved to lean against the wall, looking around. He noted that the walls in the house were all very plain. He had yet to see a portrait of a person, a decorative mirror, or scenic painting of a landscape. He noticed a candle here and there and some drapery around the windows, but aside from those, the walls were bare.

As promised, the elf returned shortly. "Master Snape says 'That will be fine'," she informed him politely, seeming pleased to earn another positive reaction when he smiled.

"Great," Harry said, moving towards the door.

"Master also says you is to wear something warm," Tibby said from behind. Harry turned to see her eyeing his jumper speculatively.

"I have this," Harry said, pinching the fabric of his top. "I'm sure it will suffice."

Tibby seemed torn about arguing with him; having two masters with conflicting opinions was clearly not something to which she was accustomed. "I suppose… that is being alright," she conceded reluctantly, still looking apprehensive.

"If he asks, I'll say that it was my fault nothing warmer went onto my body," Harry assured her. Her expression didn't change, but she gave him a respectful curtsy and, without another word, disappeared again.

Ridiculous as it was, as Harry started out of the house, he was more warmed by Severus' concern than he was by the fleece covering him. It was a subtle reminder that though they'd had a falling out, the man still cared enough to give him silly instructions.

Smiling slightly to himself, Harry pulled his sleeves down over his fingers and headed down the grey brick path, kicking gnarled weeds and plants out of his way as he went. As the path wound around the house, leading him into the back, Harry realized for the first time what a large amount of land Severus' house was plotted on. From the balcony on the second floor, it didn't seem so vast, for one could view most of the grounds from there with fair ease. What one couldn't see, however, was that the path extended past the various overgrown gardens. The line of trees that seemed to encircle the property were actually part of the property, it appeared. Harry stood on the higher ground near the house and gazed outward.

At one time, Harry supposed that the grounds must have all been very orderly and neatly kept. The path broke at various places and was replaced by grey flint steps, leading down small or large hills. There were some platforms of the same stone that were untouched by the weeds, except for around the edges, while some statues and fountains were unrecognizable for all the dead vegetation enveloping them.

Harry frowned, wondering if this had been a place of beauty when his mother had dwelled here. It certainly seemed a waste to let it go in this state. Still, he doubted he would know where to begin restoring it.

Harry wandered to the edge of a steep hill and made his way down the long stone stairs embedded in the ground there. A majority of them were covered, at least partially, in a thick layer of moss, which Harry reflected seemed to be the greenest thing in the entire garden. Surprisingly, only a few of the steps were split and sinking into the ground. The stone throughout the garden was worn, and Harry doubted it had been redone since the house had been built. With magic, it would hardly have been necessary, but as no one had lived here for almost twenty years, nothing that Tibby didn't tend to was in good condition.

Harry shortly reached the lower level, feeling satisfied that he had not fallen and worrying about how the climb back up the precarious stairs would be.

The path continued at the bottom, but Harry turned his attention instead to one of the large, vine entangled fountains with a square base and the statue of an elegant woman erected in the middle. This manor had once been a place of prestige, he could tell, but it had long since decayed into a dilapidated house sitting on a fundamental wasteland. Harry perched himself on the edge of the fountain, and looked down into the shallow, dry basin, imagining the history that must lie behind this place.

Harry knew that Severus had inherited this house, but that he had not grown up in it. This made Harry wonder where exactly Severus had lived, and why it had not been here. It had to have been a beautiful place once upon a time, and Harry could find no viable reason why anyone would choose not to live here- aside from its repellent outward appearance, which he guessed could have been corrected if someone would have attempted to do so earlier in time.

Severus did not seem bothered by the house, aside from the memories of Lily that it brought back. So the real question remained to be, what had Severus' father found to be so disagreeable with living in the house? Severus had also said that his father had called it "The Snape Manor", indicating that he had at least had a modicum of respect for the place. It had not been Snape's mother's house, and whatever dark secrets it held had no outward effect on Severus.

The house and its past were as mysterious as the secrets of Severus himself, and Harry was becoming more and more determined to discover both as the days went by.

How long Harry sat on the flat edge of that fountain pondering these things, he did not know, and only when his thought processes began going in circles and he began thinking on tangents did he realize he had spent far too much time outside the house. Harry stood and rubbed his arms that were now quaking with the cold, contemplating the long trip back up the stairs that, from this angle, did not seem very reliable. He looked around, realizing that if the garden were not so overgrown, he could simply travel back up the hill without use of the stairs. Sighing and wishing he knew some good gardening charms, Harry followed the grey path to the first step, and began climbing.

xxx

Severus did not spend a great deal of time labouring on his workroom, because he liked the fact that it provided both an excuse and a distraction in uncomfortable situations and he was sure there were more to come on this holiday. He dared not finish even before the first week drew to a close.

Instead, Severus turned his attention to other mundane tasks as he waited for Harry to return to the house for dinner. He had already decided to let the boy wander the grounds as he pleased tonight; he would come back to the house when he was ready. This seemed an unusual decision for Severus to make- he normally preferred to be in control of things, and he had always had the idea that children should be subject to the authority of adults, despite the circumstances. However, reflecting on the actions he had taken with Harry since they'd become close, he was not nearly as strict a disciplinarian as a father as he was as a teacher. Granted, he was not at all indulgent- he would not tolerate true misbehaviour- but the fact was that Harry rarely demonstrated truly abhorrent qualities. Most of his misdeeds were borne of good intention or naivety.

There was little to do around the house, so Severus was not occupied for long after he left the third floor. At Hogwarts, he refused to allow the house elves to clean his office, classroom, or workroom due to the volatile nature of the substances he kept in all three; he often spent time at the end of the day tending to the messes he had made throughout. He was not, overall, an extremely fussy person when it came to organization, but there was a certain method to his madness, and he liked to keep it that way.

At the house, however, Tibby took care of most of the rooms, and he had not yet spent enough time at his desk for it to become an unorganized pile of chaos. Upon the realization that this left him with little to do, Severus settled himself into one of the chairs in the study and began rereading Ellis Erimand's four book series on the development of strong white magic. He had not been particularly fascinated by the books the first time he had read them, but believed they would provide a good basis for Harry's training. He had already decided to read them and pick out the key points, so that when Harry read them, he would have helpful learning tools and a well educated teacher with a deep knowledge of the subject.

Before Severus could get started on the books, he heard a small tapping noise at one of the windows. Frowning for a moment and regretfully rising from his chair, Severus went to the source of the noise. He was rather surprised to see Hedwig perched on the window ledge there; normally letters arrived to him through Tibby. Still, he opened the window and took the letter from the preening bird. She looked rather disgruntled when he shut the window before she could climb in, but he paid little attention to that. He was more concerned with who the letter was from.

He would recognize the writing anywhere. Not only was he an expert at detecting falsifications of signatures and homework answers from students, but also, it had been a skill he'd been honing since he first became a spy. It was very important to know whom he was corresponding with, and this had become an important tool. This handwriting stood out to him in particular because he adamantly disliked the owner of the distinctive penmanship: Remus Lupin.

Severus turned the letter over and flipped it back again, frowning deeply. Obviously, it was a response to something Harry had written to him, otherwise Hedwig would not have delivered it. But why had Harry written to him so soon after the day's events?

Severus was trying, almost successfully, to block out the prior day's events and the aftermath that had followed. He never had a particularly difficult time dissembling emotion or unwanted thoughts, even from himself. Still, he was unsure how Harry was dealing with this at this point. He hadn't seen the boy for most of the day, but he supposed that was to be expected. Though some things had been resolved earlier, the fact still remained that there were a lot of pieces left to be put back into their puzzle of a relationship.

As curious as Severus was about the letter, he decided not to pry. Harry was free to correspond with whom he wished, provided there was no danger in it, and Severus could find no true mortal danger in communication with Lupin. He tucked the letter into his pocket to give to Harry later, and began steeling his resolve not to probe Harry for answers about the nature of the missives.

Returning to his chair and picking up his book, Severus tried to forget about the letter and the current commotion in his life. He opened up the book to the first page and began reading diligently.

Severus soon found, for the first time in quite awhile, that he was not above distraction. He found himself continually glancing at the time, wondering when Harry would return to the house, and pondering whether he ought to ask Tibby to start dinner. Severus blamed his waning attention on the fact that this was his second time viewing the material before him, and he was too intelligent to be stimulated by knowledge he already possessed. Never mind that he rarely had particularly great amounts of trouble reading the hundreds of essays turned in to him by the end of the day, all full of the same information and awash with rewording and blatant plagiarism. This was very different.

For some time, Severus put a concentrated effort into focusing on the first chapter. When he reached the end of the sixteenth page and could recall nothing that he'd read thus far, however, he abandoned it as a lost cause intended for another time and placed the book in its appropriate position on the shelves.

With a theory that Harry's absence was causing this uncharacteristic lack of tenacity, Severus headed towards the second floor balcony, where he knew he would be able to view Harry if the boy was indeed where he had said he planned to go.

The cold air greeted him with fervour as he stepped outside, and he was reminded to check that Harry was wearing something warm as instructed. He strode to the edge of the terrace and leaned over theparapet,narrowing his eyes and surveying the grounds. He hadn't taken notice of their state of disarray before this; he had looked, but not truly seen them. The state of the house had mattered very little to him the few times he'd apparated to the grounds when on the run, and when he had arrived for this holiday, he had been far too preoccupied to give the appearance of the gardens much thought. They had once been a beautiful addition to the house- he had enjoyed his time in them the few times they had visited the house when he was a child. Now they were so overgrown that he didn't know where to begin looking for his son's messy mop of black hair.

It took Severus about ten minutes to locate his son in the garden, and even then, he could see only the top of his head. He was rather far from the house, but he wasn't anywhere near the line of trees that Severus suddenly realized he had neglected to mention should not be crossed.

Severus sighed, the worry he had not been aware of significantly alleviated, and moved back towards the glass doors, where he would be sheltered, and leaned against the wall, absently watching Harry.

Before long, Severus could see Harry rise and begin making his way back to the house. He smiled when Harry stopped in front of the steps and waited several moments. The boy probably thought that the embedded stairs would collapse if he were not careful, without realizing that no matter how much the stairs broke down, the charms keeping them steady would stay in place. Obviously, Severus would have warned him to stay away from them otherwise. At times, it amazed Severus that the boy who was supposed to save the Wizarding World could know so little about the World itself.

Severus watched until Harry had reached the top of the stairs and had started making his way back to the front of the house. Frowning to himself, he considered the prospect of meeting Harry down at the entrance hall. He had decided much earlier to let the boy come to him… but he also knew that if he made himself scarce and difficult to access the likelihood of that happening within the next day was little to none.

Unwilling to let the evening slip away, especially since Christmas was the following morning, Severus made his decision and moved from his place in the shadows to the glass doors, opening one and stepping inside. As he didn't want Harry to feel intimidated by his sudden presence at the door, he moved into the parlour and waited to move until he heard the door in the entrance hallway open.

xxx

Though his teeth had been chattering and limbs shaking, Harry hadn't realized how much warmth he was missing out on until he stepped into the house. He sighed with relief as he shut the door; during the walk back to the house he had become a lot colder than he remembered being on the walk away from it. He supposed this was due in part to the lengthy amount of time he had spent outside, or to the fact that he hadn't been so lost in thought on the way back.

Harry turned around slowly, rubbing up and down his arms in an effort to warm them. What he didn't expect to see was Severus standing in the doorway, looking at him with a mildly peeved expression.

"I thought I said to wear something warm," Severus said, making Harry almost want to laugh at this form of greeting. He eyed Harry's grey jumper speculatively, shaking his head slightly.

"This is warm," Harry lied, fingering the fabric of his top. He had truthfully expected the weather to be warmer and the sweater to be thicker. Fleece did not make an efficient wind breaker, apparently.

"Ah, that explains the bluish tint to your lips," Severus commented dryly, pulling out his wand and flicking it behind him. Harry frowned for a moment, until a charcoal grey blanket resembling the one Severus kept in his rooms at Hogwarts came flying into the room. Expression unchanging, Severus caught the blanket without so much as a glance at it, and handed it to Harry. "Put this on, before you keel over."

"Put the blanket on?" Harry questioned with purposeful stupidity, holding up the blanket and looking at it inquisitively.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Wrap it around your shoulders," he articulated, causing the side of Harry's mouth to quirk.

"Thanks," Harry said, doing as suggested and tugging the blanket tightly around him. He idly wondered if Severus had purposely summoned him a blanket that matched his jumper.

Severus nodded brusquely and leaned against the door, inspecting Harry. Harry expressly avoided eye contact, eyes wandering around the moderately barren room. There was something in the atmosphere hanging between the fine lines of caution and comfort- it was an odd mix, one to which neither person really knew how to react.

"So," Harry said after a moment, body temperature finally returning to normal. "What did you do all day?"

Severus gave him an odd, curious look, but answered without question, "I worked on the third floor, read a chapter of a book, accomplished several other small tasks. How did you find the grounds?"

Harry shrugged. "I would say I can't complain, but the garden really does need tending," he admitted bluntly.

A laugh escaped Severus, and he inclined his head in agreement. "A summer project, perhaps."

"A summer project I should help with?" Harry asked.

"Yes, actually," Severus said after considering this for a moment. "I'm sure you'll look forward to it."

Harry detected sarcasm in Severus' voice, but nodded anyways. "I'm sure I will," he agreed. Severus frowned at this, but said nothing. In truth, Harry thought it might be interesting to see how a Wizard took care of his gardens as opposed to the muggle methods his aunt forced him to use. He would be seventeen this summer; perhaps if he was still forced to live with the Dursleys for a majority of the time, he could pick up a few charms and spells that would at least make the housework they gave him easier.

Deciding to ignore Harry's response, as he was unsure how it was intended to be taken, Severus changed the topic to their plans for that night. "Are you hungry?" he asked after a short pause.

Harry frowned at Severus' seemingly out of place question, but nodded. "I am," he admitted. "Are you?"

In truth, Severus was not particularly hungry. However, this mattered very little; his appetite was hardly what one would call voracious. "Yes," he lied. "I can summon Tibby and we can have dinner now, if you would like."

Harry uttered his mild agreement and moved past Severus into the hallway. "I'm going to put this blanket back and put on a thicker top," he informed his father, heading for the stairs. "I'll meet you in the kitchen in about five minutes?"

Severus bit back on a sharp comment about the impropriety of speaking to an elder with one's back turned, and said simply, "That will be fine."

Severus watched Harry turn his head over his shoulder and nod, and then summoned the elf. After briefly ordering her to have dinner prepared, he retreated to his rooms to change his dust covered robes.

xxx

Harry was slightly surprised when he was the first to arrive in the kitchen. He was glad to see that dinner would be a casual affair that night. No candles littered their small table, the kitchen was not decorated in the usual yuletide garb, and ordinary, casual plates with bundles of silverware containing no more than one fork were set at their places. While Severus appreciated quality, he had apparently seen no need for extravagance and had understood that Harry would have felt uncomfortable in such a setting.

Harry slowly sank down into one of the chairs, unsure whether there was an etiquette rule about waiting to seat oneself until all partakers of the meal to come had arrived. He was sure if he was wrong to do so Severus would be quick to point it out, at any cost, so he tried to make himself a bit more comfortable and leaned against the tall back of the chair. He found himself back in the same place he had been with Severus several months ago, when he had often sat nervously, worrying about what the two of them would speak of. He knew he was being silly- in all actuality, nothing had truly changed. They had simply experienced another event that they could add to their history, and it was an event that should have been expected, anyways. Part of him even argued that it wasn't such a big deal, and he found it relatively easy not to think about it while the two were not in the same room. However, when they were together and conversing… it was difficult to forget Severus' infuriation.

When Severus arrived in the kitchen, he looked deceptively unmoved except for the slight widening of his eyes and lowering of his brows. "I wasn't expecting to be the second one here," he remarked mildly.

"I don't intentionally try to be late to everything, you know," Harry said back, belatedly realizing what a bite there was to his tone.

If Severus had not already prepared himself for a trying evening before he'd come downstairs, he might have snapped on Harry right then and there. As it was, however, he simply raised an eyebrow and said calmly, "Kindly refrain from being rude if you would like the same consideration."

Severus felt satisfied when Harry's mouth snapped shut and guilt overtook his expression. Severus nodded his satisfaction and sat down at the table, where food instantly appeared.

They were served a satisfying meal of roast duck over a bed of warm vegetables covered in a mild mushroom sauce, and a generously sized quantity of bread to share. Harry did take the bread Severus offered him a moment later, but said little more than a quiet, "thank you," before he started on his meal.

"You don't have to be completely silent, you know," Severus said after a short while, choosing a stalk of asparagus off his plate.

Harry shrugged and continued eating, still feeling rather embarrassed for having snapped at Severus earlier. He wasn't even sure why he had done that- perhaps because he had been thinking about the tension between them to begin with. He hadn't appreciated what he had taken as a purposely offensive remark.

"Harry," Severus said more gently, watching his face. "Can we attempt to make this a pleasant meal?"

"Well, I'm not trying to not make it a pleasant meal."

Severus paused for a moment, containing what would have been an uncharacteristically sudden burst of laughter. Straightening his face, he asked in the same calm voice, "Why are you so defensive tonight?"

Harry gave little reply except for a small shake of his head, and said flatly, "Once again, I fail to come up with answer about my own behaviour. Maybe you should floo Hermione; she's much better at that sort of thing."

"I imagine it would be incredibly annoying to be told about all your thoughts and feelings from another person, as if she understands better than you do," Severus said, admittedly hoping to distract Harry. He got little reaction, however.

Harry shrugged, and said, "You get used to it after a while. It's a little comforting, actually, to know someone pays so much attention."

Severus could not imagine how anyone would find being constantly analyzed at all comforting. To him, comfort came in the form of remaining an enigma, distancing himself from those who sought to discover his secrets. He chose not to continue the conversation, for he could not understand Harry's point of view and had an idea that stating his own opinion on the matter would somehow cause Harry to take offence.

The silence gradually became more and more noticeable, causing Harry to fidget a bit in his seat. Severus could deal with uncomfortable periods of quiet; they often followed his particularly opinionated diatribes in the staff rooms and at gatherings that he was forced to attend. He went on eating dinner, while Harry sat across from him, thinking of something that would break the silence.

"So," Harry said nervously after a few moments, "nice weather today, isn't it?"

Severus snorted and set down his fork. "Hardly," he drawled, raising an eyebrow to indicate the window behind Harry. The sky was a melancholy grey, and a mist that forecasted icy rain was beginning to settle over the ground. "I can't believe you're really stooping so low as to comment on the weather," Severus added, though he did look amused.

Harry knitted his brows together and turned his head in question. "What do you mean?"

Severus let out a low laugh and silently shook his head. Harry deepened his frown, further baffled by Severus' odd response to his question. He sat in a general state of befuddlement while Severus continued with dinner, until the man looked up and noticed that he was still pondering what had been meant. Severus smiled to himself at this; it wasn't a friendly smile, nor could it be called amused- it was almost a smile of appreciation for Harry's qualities.

"I only intended to say," Severus said, finally taking mercy on his perplexed son, "that it was entertaining to watch you turn to the age old social grace of commenting on the lovely weather, even when it is an absolutely awful day, simply to avoid the ever sinister 'awkward silence'."

"Oh," Harry said lamely, feeling rather dumb for not having figured out what Severus had meant right away. He supposed he must have been more concentrated on Severus' intent than he had been on the meaning of the words.

"A letter arrived for you earlier, by the way," Severus informed him soon after, passing up the opportunity to mock Harry's lack of understanding.

This seemed to make Harry even more uncomfortable as he had been before, and perhaps a little stunned. Harry's fork clattered to his plate and he made a quick recovery, acting as though he had meant to set it down. He looked up and turned his head to the side, trying to keep his face relaxed. "Really?" he responded, scratching the back of his neck. Noticing after a moment, however, that Severus was intently watching this gesture, he stopped and jerked his hand back down to his lap. "It came this afternoon?"

Severus nodded mildly, sensing Harry's tension and attempting to be sensitive to it. "Yes, Hedwig brought it to the study window. It seems she's not yet accustomed to leaving all letters with the Elf."

Harry swallowed at this, and Severus returned his gaze to his food. He knew what Harry was thinking; he was worried about Severus' reaction, and worried that he would be questioned over the letter. Though Severus couldn't say he was pleased about his correspondence with Lupin, he certainly wasn't going to tell him he couldn't have it, and given Harry's sudden fear about his reaction, he wasn't going to interrogate him about it either. "I set the letter on your bed," he told him.

Harry nodded and relaxed visibly, though he still looked wary of Severus' intentions. He was unsure why Severus had not yet mentioned Lupin's name, nor had his expression hardened. He waited a moment, and then said carefully, "I thought you would be angry."

Severus lifted his head, expression benign. "Why would I be angry?" he questioned. Admittedly, he already had a fair idea, but that was merely supposition.

Harry looked down, and said quietly, "Well, I just thought, after what happened…"

Severus frowned and set his fork down, focusing his attention on Harry. "Harry, I am not fond of Lupin. We've already established this fact in the past, and as he is your friend, I will not torture you by reiterating it every time I am given the chance. Though I was not pleased by his actions today, I cannot use that as an excuse to limit your contact with him. It is your choice whether or not to do so."

"Does that mean you think I should?" Harry asked. His tone was not defensive; he seemed to be searching for an honest answer.

Severus sighed. At one time, he would have lied and given Harry a long list of reasons why he should cut all ties with the werewolf. However, if he was being honest with himself, that was not in Harry's best interest. "What I think shouldn't matter," he said after a moment. "However, for what it's worth, I do think it is possible to have contact with someone without believing in his or her point of view."

"So…" Harry said unsurely, narrowing his eyes and gesturing for Severus to continue.

"So, summarily, I trust you to make the appropriate decision on your own," Severus said, lifting his brows. "I will not stop you either way."

Harry seemed taken aback by this. He blinked and sat back in his chair, reflecting on what Severus has said. After a little while, he sat forward again, and started, "Thanks for not being-"

"Thank me by not finishing that sentence," Severus warned, though the smirk on his face indicated that he was more amused than irritated. Harry opened his mouth, probably to refute what he had said, but Severus waved him off dismissively. "In all seriousness, thanks are not necessary."

Unwilling to argue, Harry closed his mouth and nodded, picking up his fork and resuming the intake of his meal. Severus seemed contented when Harry dropped the subject, and feeling a bit more at ease than before, relaxed his posture and reached to rip off another piece of bread. He saw Severus watching him disapprovingly as he grabbed the loaf and tore, but as he said nothing, Harry decided to finish the task anyways.

"So," Severus said, taking a sip of his dark red wine. "Did you enjoy your walk in the gardens today?"

Harry was unsure how to answer this question. To be asked about the state of the grounds had a simple enough answer: they needed work. As to his enjoyment...it had been cold, miserable, and rather lonely, but he had been fond of his time out of the house and could see this as an opportunity to ask about its history. "It was something new to do," he found himself saying, swallowing the food he had in his mouth and reaching with his sleeve up to his face to wipe off the mushroom sauce. He became suddenly conscious of his bad display of manners when Severus grimaced, and apologetically reached for his napkin, dabbing at the corners of his mouth. "Have you ever really explored them?"

Severus' expression suddenly became very serious, and he stared at Harry for only a second. He briefly nodded and continued his meal, saying nothing more. Harry frowned, having expected a more elaborate explanation. Severus was always either a man of many words or a man of few; Harry found himself disappointed that he had chosen the latter on this topic of great interest.

"You said you didn't live here as a child…" Harry prompted, looking at Severus inquisitively. The man didn't answer. "Did you visit?"

Again, he received the same curt nod, though this time it was without so much as eye contact. "Often?"

"No," Severus said in a quiet, dangerous tone. Harry hadn't expected this.

"Should I-"

"I do not wish to discuss the house," Severus said evenly, refusing to lift his eyes from his plate. His voice held no malice, but he certainly didn't sound at all pleased with Harry's probing.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, and Severus looked up almost by instinct, silencing him with a foreboding glare. Harry quickly thought better of arguing and went back to finishing what was on his plate. He was rather disappointed; he knew Severus did not like to talk about his past, but he had told Harry on occasion that he would share bits of it with him over time. Harry had hoped, stupidly, that today might be one of those times. But what had he been thinking? The way he'd used Severus' past against him the previous night, who could blame the man for wanting to keep his secrets?

Harry briefly debated whether or not the issue ought to be pushed. It was something he was interested in, but also to be taken into account was the fact that this was a matter of privacy for Severus. Part of Harry recognized that the man didn't owe him any explanations about his childhood, yet the other part of him felt that if he had shared his past with his father, he ought to be given the same courtesy.

Ultimately it was the sagacious road of discretion which Harry chose. He continued to eat his meal in silence, and placed enormous amounts of energy into the task of appearing unbothered. Little did he know; this tactic was far more effective against his father than any form of argument he might have devised.

Though Severus kept his expression stony with the intent of intimidating Harry out of asking any more questions, he soon found himself wondering when the boy would protest, and when Harry let the topic drop, beginning to feel rather guilty for expecting immaturity and opposition. Severus sighed heavily and set down his fork. "I will tell you about the house," he relented, though he still seemed disinclined to tell Harry anything, "but not over dinner, and not here."

Harry waited for Severus to tell him when and where, but when Severus resumed picking at the remainder of his meal, Harry was forced to prompt, "So, where would you like to talk then?"

Severus looked mildly annoyed as he set down his fork again and lifted his head, but nevertheless responded, "I have to make a trip to Hogwarts tonight. I need to check on the remaining students of my house and affirm that nothing has gone amiss. Perhaps we can speak there."

"So-"

"Then and only there, Harry," Severus abruptly interrupted, the snappishness of his tone suggesting that he was very close to some breaking point. "May we please conclude the remainder of this meal in silence?"

Chastened, Harry hastily bowed his head and tried to conceal the wounded expression that crossed his face. He wasn't especially hungry anymore, but felt that eating in spite of this was the wisest choice to be made.

Severus made a point of finishing before Harry and rose from the table. "Finish your meal," he instructed tiredly, irritated by the twinge of remorse he felt for snapping at Harry when he realized that the boy had taken such offence. "I need to make a few arrangements before we leave; we may well be spending the night at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded without looking up, thinking to himself that it would be nice to visit such familiar territory and that if Severus was as comforted by that atmosphere as he felt likely to be, perhaps the man's mood would improve.

As soon as Severus left the room, Harry rose from the table and headed to his room. If he was going to stay the night at Hogwarts, there were a few things he had to do before he left as well.

xxx

Though it had been only a few short days since they had been here, Harry felt as though he hadn't seen the castle in ages. For safety related purposes, Dumbledore had barred the use of the floo connections for the duration of the Christmas Holidays, therefore prompting Harry and Severus to apparate to the gates and walk up to the castle. Longer distances had been walked before, Harry supposed, but with the stiff silence that surrounded them and the cold air beating against his already dry skin, the walk was excruciatingly slow-going.

"I will walk you down to my rooms," Severus informed Harry when they finally reached the doors and slid inside the warm building. Harry nodded and looked around, rubbing his arms. "I'm going to visit my Slytherins immediately, and I'm not sure how long that will take, so you may make yourself comfortable."

"Alright," Harry agreed, following Severus down the stairs. He asked no questions and made no attempt at conversation; the last thing he wanted was to be snapped at again. He felt a bit like a sheep, treading along behind his father like this, but there was nothing for it. He was still working at keeping his father's temper at bay.

"Don't leave," Severus instructed him shortly as he unlocked the door to his rooms and stepped inside to set his things down on the table. "I don't want you wandering the castle or running up to Gryffindor tower to visit your friends before I've spoken with Dumbledore about a few things. Is that understood?"

Harry frowned, but nodded anyways. He didn't completely understand; this was Hogwarts- what harm could come to him here?

"I need to hear you say it, Harry," Severus said, eyeing Harry carefully.

Harry rolled his eyes, but obliged. "Fine. I won't leave the rooms until you've spoken with Dumbledore." Severus raised his eyebrow doubtfully, and Harry added with what seemed to be complete seriousness, "Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, then suddenly frowned and snapped it shut. "What?"

Harry shook his head. "Never mind."

"So I have your word then?"

"Yes."

"Good," Severus said, stepping out the door again. "I'll try to be back before long."

Harry nodded with exaggerated solemnity and held his two forefingers to his head, saluting Severus as he continued to close the door.

"Hilarious," Severus said dryly, closing the door with a final snap.

Harry sat down in the nearest chair and watched the door, waiting to see if Severus would walk back through it. When five minutes passed and it seemed that Severus was gone for good, Harry felt secure enough to rise from his seat and begin exploring the quarters.

Harry had never been in here without his father before, and he found it rather strange. While he was becoming more comfortable with the thought of sharing space with his father, it was odd to be left alone in his rooms in the castle. They seemed rather empty without his presence; something was left wanting. Harry realized now that the atmosphere of these rooms was much colder and lonelier than that of the house; they were not necessarily gloomy but they were indeed dark, if not a tad gothic, in their styling.

Like the house, these rooms contained very few decorations. They were not lavishly furnished or overwhelmed by a myriad of expensive items to prove that Severus was well off, but they were, as was Severus' custom, practically and tastefully done. Harry could not find any portraits to speak of, and found himself wondering what on earth the man had against paintings.

Feeling a bit more familiarized with his surroundings, Harry wandered over to the sitting area and sat down on the couch. Shivering, he slid down to the end and peered into the fireplace. He would have liked to start a fire to kindle and heat the room, but found himself out of luck for a lack of wood. Frowning, Harry looked around for one of Severus' blankets to wrap around himself until Severus could return and tell him how to go about creating a fire with no wood.

Unable to find any blankets draped over the couch, Harry went into the room he had slept in several times throughout the school year and found folded up on the end of his bed the khaki blanket he'd become partial to using. He smiled slightly at this and lifted it off the bed, unfolding and shaking it out. He wrapped it tightly around himself and shuffled back out to the living room.

What Harry had not been expecting was to find Professor Dumbledore standing in the middle of the sitting area, smiling brightly at him. He stopped dead in his tracks, dropped his jaw and pointed at the door. "What- how did you-"

"I am the Headmaster of this school, Harry," Dumbledore informed him. "I need to know how to get around it, don't I?"

"I- what- does my father know you're here?"

"Oh, I'm sure he had an idea I might pop in," Dumbledore said evasively, taking a seat on the couch. "Won't you sit down and speak with me?"

Harry sank slowly to the couch, watching Dumbledore warily. He sincerely hoped that the man would be gone by the time Severus got here; he had an idea that Dumbledore's random appearance would put him in a far worse mood than anything else had that day, and there was still a good portion of the day left.

"So, is there something specific you wanted to talk to me about, or…?"

"Yes, actually," Dumbledore admitted, sobering slightly. "I'll get straight to the point, I suppose, as I can see you are anxious for me to do so."

"Well, it's not that I don't want to talk to you, it's just-"

"I understand; I'm not entirely sure I want to be here when your father returns, either," Dumbledore confessed, chuckling to himself. "But I did want to talk to you about what has happened over the last several days."

Harry had suspected as much. He shrugged, not knowing where to begin, or what Dumbledore wanted to hear. "What about it?" he responded in unconvincingly casual tones.

"I should like you to corroborate the story I was told, in a word," Dumbledore clarified, shifting forward to explain further. "I trust Severus, naturally. However, I want to know that both of you view the situation in… a similar way."

Ah. So he wanted to know if Severus had lied about what had happened. Uncomfortable with the notion of possibly getting his father into trouble with Dumbledore, Harry shrugged lamely. "There's not much to tell."

"I won't speak to him about any discrepancies, Harry," Dumbledore assured him, "if that makes things any better for you."

Harry nodded to show that he understood, and reluctantly began. "My friends came over that night, and wound up staying for dinner. Ginny and he argued about a few things; they were insignificant, for the most part, but I think my father took more offence than Ginny had intended. He dismissed them rather rudely, with no consideration with how I felt on the topic. I suppose I was too angry with him to realize that I was goading him, but I guess I did."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "How did Severus react to that?"

"He was patient, at first. But when I said that thing about my mother-"

"And what was that?"

Harry opened his mouth, and then paused. "You don't already know?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Severus only told me that he had reacted violently to something you had said out of anger. He never told me what that was."

"Oh," Harry uttered, stunned. He had thought that Dumbledore would have been told; it had always been Severus' custom to disparage others to make his actions seem excusable. Apparently, he hadn't used this tactic… and for that, Harry was thankful. "I think I'd rather keep that between him and me, then."

"Harry-"

"Listen; is it really necessary to know what was said as long as I freely admit he had cause to be angry?"

"You know you didn't deserve what happened, Harry," Dumbledore said, lifting his eyebrows and looking down his long, crooked nose at the boy. "No one should be manhandled like that, despite the preceding actions."

"I know that," Harry said wearily. "I don't think his actions were right; I'm just saying that I understand why he took them. Listen- is it really that important to recount the story? If you want to know something important, ask me why I decided to stay. I think he deserves a second chance; I think everyone does. He was horrified with his own actions, I know that now… and yeah, I do still feel a little uncomfortable around him now. I do worry that something like this could happen in the future. I am willing, however, to take the chance if it may also lead to a greater outcome."

It took some time for Dumbledore to consider this. He watched Harry carefully, his forehead wrinkled with the telltale lines of deep thought. Finally, he sat back again, and asked calmly, "Are you happy with him, then?"

Harry closed his eyes; he hated questions like these, he really did. He nodded his head and said carefully, "For the moment… things are improving, but still… they are still uncomfortable. But I do know that I feel safer with him than I've ever felt before. I feel like someone is there for me, not just as a friend but as someone to help me through the next few years… and maybe even after that. Those things- those things that I have missed my whole life- those make me happy."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes pensively, seemingly absorbing all of this. "I still have hope that you two will be good for each other, and clearly I think you are capable of doing so or else I would not allow you to remain with him. I want you to know, however, that if something else like this happens… you may come to me. You're almost an adult, Harry. Don't ever feel trapped by the fact that you would be replaced under the guardianship of the Dursleys, and don't worry that Severus will continue to haunt you if you choose to make such a decision."

"I don't really think he would do that… if anything, I would haunt myself over it." Harry paused then, looking suddenly confused, and asked, "Don't I have to go back to the Dursleys this summer anyway?"

"Yes," Dumbledore admitted. "But technically, as they are not your sole guardians, they can no longer refuse to let you leave if Severus should decide that you may."

"So I could come visit him this summer, then?"

Dumbledore had difficulty hiding the smile that crept up on his face at this. "Yes, you may visit him in the summer, provided he has no objections."

"I am sure I would not, Albus," Severus' voice responded, the sound simultaneous with the opening of the door. "But as grateful as I am to hear that you have finally made a decision on this matter, I must ask what on earth you are doing here in my quarters."

Both Harry and Albus rose from where they were seated, though Dumbledore's ascent was a tad more graceful and calm than Harry's clumsy leap to his feet.

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted him cordially, as though nothing was out of sorts.

"You may skip the formality, Headmaster," Severus told him, keeping his expression as level as his tone, "and answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"There's no need for hostility, Severus," Dumbledore warned. "I came to speak with Harry."

Harry got the distinct feeling that Dumbledore had been about to add something to that, but Severus spoke again before it was possible.

"You realize you needn't maneuver your way behind my back and into my quarters to speak with him, don't you? Aren't you always the one lecturing on using Slytherin tactics to achieve every goal?"

"Severus, I don't appreciate what you are implying."

"And I don't appreciate that you are implying that I am so unreasonable that I will not let you speak with my son. You could have easily waited for me to speak with you first, or at least knocked when you came to my rooms."

"I didn't-"

"I was alerted the moment the wards were breached, Albus. I don't even let a House Elf in here without my presence, what makes you think I wouldn't have guarded my quarters against my fellow staff?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. "Well, my apologies, Severus, if you thought I had an ulterior motive. I assure you, I did not intend to insinuate that you were in any way unreasonable. You are, after all, such a rational man. Good day, Severus."

And with that, Dumbledore moved past him towards the door, giving Harry a small nod in his departure.

Severus stood in his place for a moment, apparently contemplating what to do. After a moment, he whirled around and made to follow the Headmaster. He didn't get far, however. Harry jumped forward and grabbed his arm from behind, trying to keep him from going.

Severus turned his head and raised his eyebrows in warning, but Harry stood his ground. "Just leave it at that," he said softly, slowly releasing Severus' arm. "It isn't worth it to go after him."

"Ah," Severus said somewhat bitterly. "Is this going to be another one of those speeches that end in my being told that I'm not proving anything?"

Harry frowned, slightly irritated that Severus would assume that. "No," he said seriously, going back to the couch. "I would just rather not see you two fight. Besides… it's almost Christmas."

This abrupt reminder captured Severus' full attention, and the poorly concealed look of hopefulness on Harry's face did not escape him. "That it is," he agreed vaguely, softening his expression and making a concentrated effort to forget his agitation with Dumbledore. He continued to stand for a moment, his gazed fixed on something undefined. Nodding as if to himself, he drifted hazily to the couch and took his seat. After a moment, he trained his dark eyes on Harry, expression indecipherable and ambiguous. He said nothing, but the normal intensity his dark eyes held was transformed into something less daunting; it was something that instantly put Harry at an inexplicable ease and almost tangibly relaxed the stiff atmosphere.

For once, Harry found himself able to meet his father's eyes. He was unsure what had occurred in that moment that had changed his demeanour with such rapidity, though he longed to learn so that he could replicate the effect at later times. The corners of his lips turned upwards into a grin that was not borne of happiness, but rather established his acknowledgement of the comfortable moment they were sharing. In that moment, there was understanding that what had been damaged could be fixed, and Harry felt safe enough to let down his guard.

"For what it's worth," Harry said quietly, "Nothing Dumbledore or anyone else has said affects the way I think about you."

"I believe we should abandon this particular topic, Harry," Severus said gently, not quite in way of rebuke, but rather in advisory.

"I know, I just… I want you to know that my opinion of you is my own. I'm not bound to let anyone change it except you."

"I suppose that can be either positive or negative," Severus commented, raising his eyebrows and dropping his gaze from Harry's face.

"If you want to know, for the most part, it's been positive."

Severus raised his eyes quickly, studying his son's face closely. He could see that the boy was sincere, though he could not determine why he would say such a thing. Had Severus not given him ample reason to doubt both his skill as a parent and worth as a person? Was it really possible that this boy was always as forgiving as this, so that even when Severus betrayed him with a most grievous offence, he could redeem himself through mere penance?

"Listen, Dad," Harry said softly, sitting forward and, in an act of both compassion and boldness, taking his father's hand in his. "I think you have a tendency towards believing that every wrongdoing has to be paid off in some way in order to receive any sort of forgiveness. But not everything is so black and white; there are certain things that can be forgiven under certain circumstances regardless of whether or not they are deserved. And just so you know, I only say that because I know you don't think you deserve a lot of the things you get; I do. You've been really good to me, apart from a few mishaps… generally speaking, this is the best I've ever had it. I think it would be easier to put this all behind us if you forgave yourself the way I do, or the way you've forgiven me. We're only human; we're not meant to be perfect. You can't revert back to this state of self-hatred every time something goes wrong."

It was amazing to Severus that so much maturity could be gained in such a short amount of time. This year had been one of tremendous emotional and mental growth for Harry, though Severus did not often realize just how greatly these things had improved. Part of him wondered if he had had a hand in that, or if it was merely a consequence of the hard life the boy had been dealt. As he looked down at their clasped hands, he realized that Harry was not the only one who might have benefited from the past year. Until now, he had not been aware of the fact that he felt no inclination to pull away from his son or negate his words. For once, he felt comfortable speaking with him on such terms, and rather enjoyed feeling so. At the same time, it seemed strange that now, after such an undulation had occurred in the formerly tranquil fluidity of the dark waters that were their relationship, they understood each other better than ever.

"You've been reflecting on this quite a lot," Severus observed quietly, giving Harry's hand a squeeze and rising from the couch.

"More than I realized, I guess," Harry admitted, glad not to have received any mordant comments about his sentiments or where they had arisen from. "But I do mean it."

"I know you do," Severus intoned, moving towards the tea pot that never seemed to rest when they were there together.

"Will you at least consider what I said?"

"Harry," Severus started, turning his head and showing an unexpected smile. "It may have escaped your attention, but I consider almost everything you say. For instance," he said, turning and holding up the tea pot. "I am considering what you said about tea tasting better coming from a traditionally heated tea pot rather than from the tip of a wand. If I take note of such trivial pieces of advice, surely you do not think that I would ignore your larger attributions of wisdom."

"You think what I said was wise?" Harry questioned, apparently stunned by this revelation.

"You're growing up, Harry," Severus admitted mildly, filling the pot. "I'm beginning to think that perhaps you ought to be given more credit than you normally receive for statements that could be considered so profound."

Harry was not accustomed to swelling with pride, but at that moment, he knew it was precisely what he was doing. He could think of few things Severus had said to him that were so akin to praise as this, and almost felt childish for feeling so elated at what he saw as a form of elaborate extolment, at least coming from this man. Secure in his deduction that any sort of response that he was likely to formulate in this moment would serve little purpose other than to embarrass his father, he resigned himself to keeping his smile contained and his glee confined within him. He crossed his legs under him and sat back against the arm of the couch, sitting in a stance that he knew looked boyish for all the approval that had just been expressed at his maturity, yet unable to care at this particular moment. For some reason, he felt confident that Severus would not judge him. It seemed odd that all at once, simply due to the commendation from his father, he suddenly felt quite untroubled and able to be himself.

Within a short amount of time, Harry's thoughts drifted to the reason he had wanted to speak with Severus tonight. In view of the things that they had just discussed, it seemed untactful to now mention a subject to which Severus was so abject. Still, he was unsure when they would return to the castle, and his father had already expressed his negative sentiments to discussing the topic of his history at the house.

Apparently, the silence spoke for itself. It prompted Severus to abruptly begin the story; Harry admittedly was not surprised by this. Severus often liked to begin difficult conversations while doing something to distract himself.

"I have told you that I was not raised in that house," Severus began, his voice neither as irritable as it had been the last time the topic had been raised, nor as mild as it had been in prior moments. "But perhaps I gave you the false impression that we never visited, or that my father found something to be wanting with the estate. Neither of these was the case.

"The house has been in the family for over two centuries. It was once a very prestigious place; it was not a castle, but it was both beautiful and terrifying in its greatness, and was widely respected by purebloods. It was given the utmost care and the name that was attached to it was given highest respect."

"So your family is pureblooded, then?" Harry interjected, intrigued by this notion.

"No," Severus said shortly, with a definitive shake of his head. "Many generations back, there was a man by the name of Etarus Snape who saw fit to break the tradition of marrying into only pureblooded families. He was the sole heir at that time, and thought to be perhaps the last of the Snape line when his mother and father were both deceased. Few women were interested in him; he had no great looks to speak of, as many of the Snape men have not, and refused to spend his inherited money. He had a philosophy that he ought to work for it himself; it seemed an insult to live off of money someone else had earned and left to him. While… noble…" Severus said with a measured amount of distaste, moving towards the couch with tea in hand, "this is hardly an attractive set of qualities to any self respecting pureblooded woman. I have been told, however, that he was one of the few romantics in our family, and had fanciful ideals on love, marriage, and the like. He was the first to take a woman who was not wholly pureblood. She was close to it, make no mistake, but she had a distant affiliation with a great muggle philosopher, and the name was so well known that her family could hardly obscure their lineage.

"Etarus was hardly concerned with the material things the Snape Manor had to offer. He released many of the house elves, bothered by their constant fawning over him and scarcely concealed disgust for his wife. Tibby was one of the elves left, and is clearly the only one that remains to this day.

"Without the masses of elves to tend to it, the house began to fall into a state of disarray, and though Etarus worked hard to keep it in a presentable state, when he passed away his wife took their four young children and moved back in with her parents. No one returned to that house for years, and only Tibby wished to stay when their mistress told them they were free to find other families. It was too large of an estate for one elf to keep, and over the next seventy years, no one returned to that house."

Severus paused to sip his tea, observing the swirls of amber liquid in his cup with a distant expression. Harry longed to prompt him to continue, but allowed his father to take his time in telling the story. It was a long winded explanation, apparently, and Harry could not demonstrate such ungratefulness as to hurry Severus along.

Feeling Harry's gaze resting on him, Severus finally looked up from his tea. His expression turned from thoughtful to somber once more, and he reluctantly continued his story.

"Many years later, Etarus' youngest son was the one who would finally return to the house. He was the most concerned with material things of all the other children, and was intent on restoring the name Snape to prestige. He took a pureblooded Russian Witch, whose family had not learned of the tainting of the bloodline, as his wife, using a great deal of his own inheritance to pay for her. They moved back into the house, but it failed to become a home. They had a poor marriage, filled with violence and misfortune, and things became no better when they had children.

"I will not bore you with the details of the years following, but it should be noted that over time, through this line, our line became mainly pureblooded once more. Few people knew the history behind the name, and the more superficial members of my family were quite concerned with keeping it that way. The house was never restored to its original pristine state, but we were entering an era where the title of 'pureblood' had come to be attached to the darker side of Wizardry, and the sinister elements of the estate became appealing to those of our line. I do not believe that evil is inherited, but I do know that the Dark Arts have long been an unfortunate temptation for those of our line, and more than a few succumbed to its allure.

"A generation before me, there was a member of our family who resembled Etarus in every fashion. This person had a great sense of nobility, a head filled with romantic ideals of love over materialism, and a streak of kindness unheard of in the family name. There was only one thing holding this person back: she was a woman."

Harry frowned at this, and opened his mouth to voice his discontent with this notion. Severus, however, forestalled him with a raised hand, and explained, "It was a very different time, you must remember.

"My Aunt Seremis was possibly the best example of a true member of humanity with naturally good qualities in my family. As a young boy, I was taught to despise all her elements of purity and compassion, but as I grew older, I came to appreciate them far more than the hard hand of my father. Had it been a later time, she might have redeemed the Snape name in the eyes of the now mixed blood society. In this time period, however, she was forced to marry another pureblood, and though I do not think he ever treated her as unkindly as my father treated my mother, I know she was limited in the amount that she could do.

"My father," Severus continued, nearly spitting the word every time he was forced to utter it, "unlike my Aunt, could not find a decent pureblood to speak of. His own parents urged him to seek a foreign wife, and insisted that she would be best suited for him, as many of them were far more passive than the British witches of the age. He refused, however. He liked to tell others that it was because he wanted a woman with a personality; I think it was that he wanted a challenge when it came to crushing her spirit. He wanted to break her in himself.

"My father married a half-blooded witch, unaware of how intense his own father's streak of vengeance was. He was denied the inheritance of the house and the money, and it was given to my Aunt. Naturally, this created quite a bit of bitterness in my father… I'm sure it was one of the contributing factors to the way he treated my mother and I. He saw us as the reason he was robbed of his inheritance.

"As I was growing up, my father paid a great number of visits to my Aunt at that place. He would often drag my mother and me along on weekend trips, and spend the entire time attempting to persuade my Aunt to give him what was 'rightfully his'. I always dreaded those trips."

"I thought you said your Aunt was kind?"

Severus nodded. "She was. It was going home after the trips that I found so miserable. Every time my father failed, he used my mother and me as an outlet for his vehement fits of pique. Those were some of the worst times I faced as a child. The worst part of it was that my Aunt always treated me so well when I was there… and I always knew I would have to leave right after. I knew that for every kindness I was shown while in her home, it would be repaid in full when I returned to my own home… if you could call it that."

"Did your Aunt know?"

"She did," Severus confirmed, casting his gaze to the ground. "She begged my mother to let me stay with her. She couldn't have any children of her own, and she knew what I went through every time we returned."

Harry frowned deeply, and asked tentatively, "And your mother wouldn't let you stay?"

Severus shook his head bitterly, lips thinning. "I think she understood that to allow me to leave was to focus all of my father's rage on her. She tried to protect me at times, but she knew… she knew that if I wasn't there, she would receive every blow meant for me. She was not the sort of woman to sacrifice herself for another, up until the end."

"Up until the end?"

"You know this- my father killed her when she attempted to protect me one last time… I suppose he had had enough."

"I'm sorry," Harry said after a moment, not knowing what else he could offer to his father. The man kept a stoic face, and restricted his tones to the most even levels he could achieve, yet Harry knew that reliving this tale was torturing him on the inside. "You didn't deserve that."

"What's past is past," Severus said quietly, refusing to acknowledge Harry's condolences. "I ask for no sympathy, and would prefer if this topic were not raised in conversation in the near future."

Though this felt like somewhat of a rebuke, Harry could find no other response than to politely respect Severus' wishes. The two sat in silence; Harry tried not to gaze sadly at his father as not to make him uncomfortable, and Severus carefully avoided eye contact.

"I worried so much," Severus found himself saying a moment later, though he could not recall what had prompted him to speak, "that your mother and I would end up like my own father and mother."

"She was too strong willed for that," Harry assured him, only to be corrected quickly.

"You should hear the stories that are told of my mother before she was wed to my father," Severus said, raising an eyebrow. "You would have said the same of her."

"But you are nothing like the man that raised you."

"Nothing, Harry?" Severus questioned skeptically, rising and moving to rest his palm on the mantle of the fireplace. "I literally threw your mother from our home when she came to me that night. I had you against the wall within seconds for an offence I should have recognized as a childish fit of temper. Tell me these things resemble nothing that man did to me. Tell me where I learned such things."

"To be perfectly fair, if the situations were reversed, I probably would have done the same thing," Harry admitted, rising and moving to where Severus stood. "Anger is… difficult to deal with, and sometimes we overreact… but it doesn't mean that you are the abusive bastard who raised you."

"Harry-"

"And don't you dare tell me to watch my language because that was completely called for," Harry quickly replied, forcing the first look of amusement he'd seen on Severus' face in quite some time. It quickly disappeared, however, and turned solemn once more.

"I have committed greater crimes than these, Harry," Severus told him, closing his eyes. "I can try, but I am not an inherently good man."

"Well, you're not inherently bad, either," Harry negated, becoming angry now. He couldn't stand to listen to his father disparage himself so. "You've done a great deal of good as well as bad- it all boils down to the choices you make. The ones you've made lately don't seem so bad."

Severus hung his head, shaking it slightly. "That doesn't erase what I've done."

"I thought 'what's past is past'," Harry challenged, raising his eyebrows. "You said it yourself."

"In case you haven't noticed Harry," Severus replied, half in good humour and half in complete seriousness, "I'm somewhat of a hypocrite."

xxx

Harry was glad when Severus and he arrived home on good terms. The day had been filled with an exhausting mix of emotions; the pleasant ones he was experiencing now were the only feelings he'd welcomed as of yet.

Severus dismissed him early, saying that it was best that both get to bed sooner rather than later. Though Harry knew Severus had no intention of lying to rest anytime soon, he was sure Severus was thinking on the same terms as he was. Things had gone well thus far this evening; it was best not to tempt fate.

Harry wandered up the stairs, thinking to himself that there was another advantage to going to bed early. Lying forgotten atop his gold duvet was Lupin's missive, and Harry was suddenly seized by a sense of anticipation and curiosity at what it contained. Remembering the nature of the message he'd sent first, part of him wondered if the contents would bring his night to a new level of contentment, or if they would bring is satisfaction to an abrupt halt.

Harry entered his room and it instantly illuminated, permitting Harry to gaze around at the warmly accented chamber. He smiled softly, realizing how much like home it was beginning to feel; he suddenly felt comforted. Closing the door behind himself, he stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. He hesitantly reached towards the rectangular envelope and picked it up, sliding onto his bed.

The wax seal had not been broken; Severus really hadn't read the letter, unless he had gone to some elaborate measures to make sure Harry wouldn't be able to find out. Though heartened by this, it was difficult to move past the feelings of anxiety dwelling within. Harry supposed the only way to lessen the apprehension, however, was simply to get it over with.

Harry slid the tri-folded piece of parchment out of the envelope, and unfolded it slowly. He scanned the page briefly, getting an idea of the tone with which it had been written. Seeing no blatantly abhorrent words, Harry was somewhat soothed. He allowed his eyes to move back up to the top, and read the letter in its entirety.

Dear Harry,

I'm glad that you wrote to me. It brings me peace of mind to know that you are not as upset with me as I might have guessed, though I am bothered by your belief that I would be so condescending as to refuse to consider the fact that you may be doing the right thing in this situation, and feel the need to explain myself so that you will not think the very worst of me.

You needn't apologize to me for your actions; I want to make that very clear. Perhaps because I was so fervent in my attempts to make you reconsider you were given the idea that I would be angry if you did not listen. At the time, I was upset that you went with him, but my anger and disappointment were not directed towards you. Upon reflection, and after speaking with Dumbledore, I have faith that you made the most appropriate decision possible at the time. I'm also proud that you are beginning to express such independence, if I may say so. It is good to see you growing up so well, Harry, and though at times I am loathe to admit it, I am beginning to think that Severus' involvement in your life has something to do with that.

I still want you to know that you may always come to me. Whatever you feel you need to talk about, or if you need help out of a bad situation, I am here to help and guide you should you need it. I am beginning to think that perhaps you are feeling smothered by my, and others', attempts to constantly steer you in the right direction. You must understand that in my eyes, you are still a best friend's son, and I feel the habitual need to protect you. I know that's not always what you need, but it's difficult to feel otherwise.

I should be seeing you on Boxing Day if you go to the Weasley's, but if I do not, I should like to hear from you soon.

Keep in touch,

R.J. Lupin

Harry set down the letter, feeling more than slightly relieved. Not only was Lupin completely amenable to the actions Harry had taken the previous day, but any anger remaining in Harry over how Lupin had behaved was now completely absent.

Later that night, as Harry lied down to go to sleep, he thought that perhaps there was something valuable to the old truism about not going to bed angry. Apparently, it did quite a bit for one's ability to fall asleep peacefully, and Harry didn't mind that feeling at all.

xxx

Severus could not remember having enjoyed very many Christmases in the past. Lily had always shaped the day into something tolerable, perhaps even enjoyable, but they had spent a limited amount of years together and therefore very few holidays.

Today, however, was a very different day. As much as Severus was dreading certain aspects of this, there were parts he was looking forward to as well. He hadn't had any desired company present on his last decade or so of Christmases; today, he was pleased with the prospect of spending it with his son. Harry had come to develop the same instinctive skill that Lily had honed- he managed to make events such as these as gratifying and lacking as much embarrassment as possible.

In a surprisingly sanguine (if one could ever describe Severus as such) frame of mind, Severus started his morning, as usual, very early. After reading in the library to pass some time, he ordered Tibby to have breakfast ready whenever Harry awoke. He made the last preparations for the day, putting the final touches on his own gifts for Harry and placing the gifts that had arrived from others under the tree that he had, at the very last moment, finally decided to erect, only for the sake of giving Harry a Christmas like neither of them had experienced during childhood. Harry was only a year away from legal adulthood, it was true, but Severus was adamant that he might still experience some of the pleasures most children were able to enjoy.

xxx

Harry could not remember having enjoyed any Christmases he hadn't spent at Hogwarts, and he certainly could not recall having been so childishly enthused for one since first year. When he awoke that morning, he simply stared up at the canopy above his head, wiggling his toes in attempt to rid himself of the inexplicable amount of excitement with which he felt was bursting. He didn't want to rush downstairs; he would be embarrassed to admit to Severus how eager he was to begin the day. Instead, he allowed himself to stay in bed and suffer, until he decided it was late enough to rise.

Harry opened his wardrobe and pulled out a deep green dressing robe that had been there when he had arrived. He hadn't worn it up until now, simply because he was sure it was intended to represent Slytherin, but he supposed it would make Severus rather happy to see that he was using it. As he tied the robe shut, he considered the wrapped presents sitting on the shelf below his hanging clothes. He supposed that Severus would want to have breakfast and such before exchanging gifts, and that he would look rather over-zealous, running down the stairs with presents in hand.

Harry shut the wardrobe doors and exited his room, realizing belatedly that he had forgotten to put on a pair of socks to keep his feet warm. Huffing at this and turning around, as Severus would surely insist that he do so anyway, he walked quickly back into his room and put on a pair of overlarge black socks. He looked down at his covered toes and laughed a bit for no apparent reason, shaking his head to himself and leaving the room again.

As soon as Harry hit the bottom of the stairs, he caught the strong scent of various breakfast foods wafting through the air. He grinned, realizing he had been correct in assuming Severus would want to have breakfast first off. He peered into the kitchen and looked around. Breakfast was set, but Severus was nowhere to be seen. He turned around, intent on finding his father, only to realize that the man was standing directly behind him.

Unintentionally, Harry jumped a bit, a hand flying up to his rapidly beating heart. "Don't do that!" he exclaimed, warranting a laugh from his father.

"My apologies," Severus said, though he hardly sounded very repentant. "I was under the impression that you might have known I was standing behind you when you turned around. Constant vigilance, and all that."

Harry laughed lightly. "You heard about that?"

Severus shook his head, and quirked one side of his mouth upward. "You forget I've had to share a staff room with the man this year."

"No, I simply assumed you would do the wise thing and stay away from said staff room while said insane Auror was in it," Harry replied smartly, raising his eyebrows in a manner not unlike his father's.

"It is, unfortunately, unavoidable," Severus said, rolling his eyes and moving past Harry into the kitchen. "Dumbledore insists on at least weekly staff meetings."

"How unfortunate," Harry said in parody of sympathy, shaking his head and casting his eyes downward.

"Truly," Severus agreed flatly, beginning to place food on his plate. "Are you planning on eating this morning?" he inquired when Harry did not follow suit.

Harry instantly grabbed a plate and began piling his own dish with food. Since such a variety of things had been provided, and he found it nearly impossible to make a choice, he opted to have at least one helping of everything. Severus watched this affair with a quirked eyebrow, but said nothing until food began rolling off the plate.

"I can ask Tibby to bring an extra plate for you, if you would like," he offered, though his proposal was more in jest than genuineness.

Blushing slightly, Harry took the hint and set down his dish. Severus tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile as he shook his head and began on his own meal.

Breakfast was, by Harry's measure, a rather lengthy event. While normally he would be perfectly content to sit at the table and indulge in trivial conversation over a waffle or two, he was rather anxious to proceed with the festivities that this special day during the yuletide season required. He tried to sit patiently, waiting for Severus to finish his breakfast. He tried to keep from fidgeting and shifting around in his seat. He tried to contain the long sighs that would frequently escape him, earning a mildly entertained look from Severus.

Severus had an idea of what his son was waiting for. Still, he was taking a certain amount of vindictive pleasure in utilizing an inordinate amount of time to leisurely finish the small quantity of food he had served himself. He wondered vaguely if Harry knew that he was staring so intently at Severus, or if he was completely unaware that he was making his wishes so very obvious.

He could not help but laugh inwardly when he set down his fork and Harry rapidly moved to rise, only to watch Severus smile and pick up his cup of tea. Watching his son's face fixedly, he raised the cup to his lips and took a long sip, then lowered it back down slowly. Another exasperated sigh escaped Harry, and Severus' smirk intensified.

"Is there something bothering you, Harry?" he asked casually, taking another protracted sip.

Harry began to shake his head, but stopped halfway through. He hesitated, seemingly debating something within, and considered Severus for a long moment. Finally, a moment later, he nearly pleaded, "Come on…. How long does it take to finish a cup of tea?"

Severus snorted and set down his cup, shaking his head. "Fine, fine, fine," he relented at last, pushing his dishes back and rising. "We'll do presents."

Harry's face broke out into a wide grin, and he quickly rose from the table. "I'll be right back," he said quickly, all but bolting from the kitchen and towards the stairs.

Severus chuckled inwardly, thinking how ironic it was that he should be spending Christmas in such a fashion. Picking up his cup and draining the last of his tea in an uncharacteristically brisk manner, he summoned Tibby and asked her to clear the table.

Severus made his way into the den to wait for Harry, observing the curiously increased amounts of gifts he'd received this year in comparison to others. He rolled his eyes, thinking that many of the people who had sent Harry gifts had simply sent him something as well in an effort to be polite. Well, that was annoying.

Cursing the sheer amount of Gryffindors with whom his son was associated, Severus sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket over his legs, wishing he'd brought his tea with him. Tilting his head at an angle from which he could see out the door, he saw that Harry was already coming through the parlour towards him, gifts in hand. Apparently, he would have to have another cup of tea later.

Harry sat down on the couch next to Severus, the silly grin that he had left the kitchen with still in place on his face. He watched Severus for a moment, who, unsure how to proceed, simply returned the observant stare.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said after a moment, grinning even wider. "I forgot to tell you."

Severus chuckled quietly. "I'm glad you told me; otherwise, I might have spent the day wondering whether it was indeed happy, or very, very sad."

"You know what I meant," Harry retorted, making a face. "Are you going to say it back?"

Severus laughed more loudly this time. "If I must. Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry nodded happily, and quickly set his gifts in Severus lap. "Open the top one first."

"You are a militant gift giver, I must say," Severus quipped, though he complied and reached for the top one first. He felt rather ridiculous, unwrapping gifts like this. Most people didn't bother to decorate his presents; after his first few years of caustic remarks about the ridiculous décor of the holidays, especially the elaborate wrapping paper and such that people foolishly spent good money on, the few gifts he received from that point on were rarely wrapped in anything. Actually, a good third of his liquor stock had been supplied on holidays such as these, and none of them had come with any decorations.

Harry, however, had taken the time to wrap his gifts in a metallic black wrapping paper, which he assumed was supposed to be in coordination with nearly everything else Severus owned, and were topped with green and silver curls of ribbon. Severus was rather glad he hadn't gone so far as to buy him animated paper or something done in the obnoxious colours of Gryffindor. Strangely, the simplicity, yet quality, of this gesture were something Severus appreciated very much.

Severus opened the first gift- a small, flat, rectangular object- carefully. He was not one to rip into the paper with vigour and excitement, but rather, took his time neatly unwrapping. What he saw when he finished surprised him very much; out of the paper emerged a book, titled, "The Single Dad: How to Raise Your Teenage Son". He looked up at Harry in question, and saw that the boy was laughing.

"I'm not really trying to give you a hint or anything," Harry informed him between laughs. "I found it at this new shop they've put up in Hogsmeade- most of it is just peculiar things you'd find in the muggle world, but there is some random stuff that is supposed to be useful to Wizards too. It was between this and an apron that said, "Real Men Cook Turkeys"…. But I doubted you would understand the significance of such a thing."

"I'm not sure I understand," Severus said, thinking that nothing Harry had just said to him made much sense.

"Open the book," Harry said.

Severus did as asked, flipping to a random page somewhere in the middle. What he saw there surprised him a bit. In the margins, next to the individually listed instructions on how to raise one's son, Harry had scribbled notes in the margin.

52. Make sure you set a curfew for your son, the book read in a tone that Severus imagined being quite pompous and presumptuous. Honestly, as if a muggle book could tell him anything useful about how to raise his son.It is important that your child knows his boundaries, and you should be the one to set them. Make sure you don't stray from this rule, as you don't want your teenager to think that 'bending' the rules is an appropriate thing to do.

In the margin, next to this particular piece of advice, Harry had scribbled in purple ink, Unless, of course, your son happens to be hunted by a maniacal madman. In the instance that your son needs an extension of curfew in order to save the world from certain destruction, some exceptions might be made.

Severus laughed and re-read Harry's input out loud. "A maniacal madman? Very nice word choice," he complimented Harry, flipping through the pages of the book.

"Well, here's what I figure. In case you ever start to miss my open defiance and the blatant arrogance I demonstrate by creating my own rules, you can open up this book, and it's all right there for you."

"How very considerate," Severus replied, smiling at the way Harry had managed to make a joke of this.

"I thought so," Harry agreed lightly, apparently pleased with himself. "Now, open the next one."

"Again with the commands," Severus grumbled. Still, he complied once more; this day was about Harry, at least to him, after all. He supposed it was not too much to ask for Harry to want to call the shots on this particular day.

"Be careful," Harry warned unnecessarily as Severus started on the next gift. "It's a bit fragile."

Severus' brow creased in interest as he continued to unwrap. This gift was rather large compared to the last, and he was honestly curious about what was inside. There were few things he wanted for, and so he imagined it must have been difficult for Harry to find something that he felt would suit him.

Harry watched Severus' face as he pulled out his gift, and could not help but feel satisfied when he saw the amount of amazement on his face when he realized what it was.

Severus picked up the crystal, already glowing red with Harry's magic, and looked at it in wonder. "Harry, this is-"

He didn't finish the sentence. This was an exceptionally wonderful gift, but he wondered if Harry understood the significance of this. He lifted the foggy white orb from the black velvet and inspected it, before looking down at the map. Truly, this was momentous- he was essentially being given the ultimate guide to Harry's life. "You realize… you have given me…"

"I know what it's for," Harry confirmed. "I know you'll be able to find out where I am at any given moment, yes… And I trust you. I wanted you to know that. It's practical, too… if anything were to happen, you would be the one I'd want to know first. You're the one I feel comfortable depending on… and… I don't always know how to say that. But it does mean a lot to me."

"This is… truly appreciated, Harry," Severus said softly, delicately running a thumb over the crystal. "Thank you."

Harry ducked his head, hiding a shy grin of satisfaction. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, his face heating moderately, and with quiet sincerity responded, "You're welcome."

Severus spent several more minutes contemplating the gift his son had given him, and Harry was perfectly content to sit and watch him absorb the significance of it in its entirety. He was rarely given an opportunity to truly please his father. He had always striven to please the adults around him, most likely out of an inherent desire to try and make his elders want him around, as the Dursleys never had. He aimed to please, and yet seldom felt he attained this goal.

Harry assumed that Severus felt it was time to move on when the man wordlessly rose from the couch, possibly with his mind still on the gift, and lifted a small, oddly shaped package from under the tree.

"For you," he said in mellow tones, almost benevolent compared to the harsh voice he usually used. He set his own gift to Harry in the boy's lap.

Harry lifted the present and flipped it over several times, inspecting it closely. "I wonder what this could be…" he hummed to himself, narrowing his eyes.

Severus snorted and shook his head, raising an eyebrow at his son's antics.

"I suppose I could just open it," Harry said after a moment, unwrapping the package. "Seems the more logical approa- oh!"

Severus' eyebrows lifted, almost in question, as Harry pulled out a pair of thick leather Quidditch gloves, equipped with a special grip pad on the palm and an inner lining of a warm fur which he could not identify.

"These are great," he said in awe, pulling them over his hands, even though he had no current need for them.

"I noticed you had none at the last Quidditch match," Severus said, nodding. "I thought they would be put to good use."

"They will be," Harry replied, wiggling his fingers around. "Thank you."

Severus nodded, and told him, "I do have something else for you, but you'll have to follow me to get it."

"Follow you?" Harry questioned. "Where are we going?"

"Upstairs," Severus stated, rising from the couch and waiting for Harry to do the same.

Harry frowned confusedly, but refrained from asking more questions. He silently followed Severus up to the second floor and down the hall to one of the rooms which he had never entered.

"You'll remember that I told you this room, created purely for the purpose of practicing very strong or very ancient white magic, could hardly be salvaged without several days of work?"

Harry nodded, unsure how this pertained to him.

"Well, it has taken me more than several days, and a fair number of nights… but I have restored it." Severus opened the door, revealing a room filled with a wide array of items which looked to be expensive, antiquated, and very fragile. "It is yours."

Harry was unsure whether anything had ever had such a profound impact on him- at least in such a positive sense. He stepped inside, and was shocked by the sheer power the room seemed to contain.

"You can feel it, can't you?" Severus commented quietly, though he remained on the outside. "You can obtain that power for yourself, you know."

Harry shook his head slowly in awe, viewing the room through eyes he now felt had seen few things as raw and beautiful as this.

"Will you be practicing with me in here?" Harry asked faintly, looking around.

"No," Severus answered him, leaning against the doorframe. When Harry looked at him probingly, he reluctantly expanded, saying, "Well, I will guide you in your first attempts, but I cannot practice. The form of power I possess is too dark- it does not interact well with the magic of this room. The properties of the artifacts contained in this room make it highly volatile- it may be some time before you may practice magic in here; there is still much work to be done. However, it should serve as a place for deep meditation, in which you may draw from all your inward power, until Dumbledore and I feel you are at a place where you may begin utilizing said power."

"And then…"

"This will undoubtedly be beneficial to your journey towards defeating Voldemort."

"You put a lot of thought into this."

"I did."

Harry smiled and turned around, realizing that Severus looked quite gratified with his reaction. "Thank you," he said, earning a nod from Severus in response.

"My only warning is that you do not perform magic in here," Severus advised. "Nor should you enter it when your temper is at a particularly high and heated peak."

Harry, feeling that these rules were simple enough to remember and put to use, nodded in agreement. He stepped out of the room, closing the door gently, and smiling to himself. "How much of that did you have to replace, if you couldn't repair it with magic?"

Severus raised an eyebrow as if to tell Harry that he shouldn't be asking this question, pushed off from the wall, strolling back down the hallway.

"Perhaps you should start on the remainder of that pile of gifts under the tree," Severus suggested, working to keep all traces of mordancy out of his tone. "It appears to be quite a time consuming task."

"Are you going to open yours?" Harry asked. He felt it would be rather uncomfortable to open presents alone, if all Severus was going to do was sit and watch.

Severus turned to look at Harry, raising his lip into a curl that had not yet graced his face today. "Not unless I must," he replied sardonically. He couldn't think of a more miserable experience, at the moment, and he was in a mood that he'd rather not have ruined by useless gifts from people he did not like.

Harry had expected such a response. "I can wait, then."

Severus frowned and continued walking. "Aren't you… eager… to learn what other gifts are in store for you?"

Ignoring Severus' borderline acerbic tones, Harry replied easily, "I'm waiting until tomorrow to give my gifts to my friends, so I'm going to open theirs then as well. I already know Mrs. Weasley gave me a Weasley sweater and most likely sweets… and there's nothing more that I need than what I already have. I'd rather spend the day with you than unwrapping gifts from people I barely know."

"Ah, your followers send you Christmas gifts, then?" Severus inquired in irritation, though it was not directed at his son.

Harry wrinkled his nose, and said, "If you want to call them that."

The two did not speak again until they reached the lower floor. Severus' mood was elevating to a level of irascibility as long as they stayed on the topic of how much attention Harry received, and so Harry felt it was best to wait until the man brought up another subject.

"What do you have in mind, then?" Severus finally asked as they headed back through the hallway and into the living room.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

Severus gave a short laugh at this response. "I could personally stand a warm cup of tea and a game of Wizard's chess."

Harry smiled, and agreed, "That sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon, if you ask me."

Severus turned to Harry, assessing his sincerity. Realizing the boy was quite serious, he gestured as if to say, suit yourself, and said, "I keep the chess set in the study. Go and fetch it while I clear off the table in here, and we'll play."

"Alright," Harry complied, turning to leave the room. "And just so you know… I'm going to win."

Severus rolled his eyes rather than responding, and began to tidy the room. They would have to see about that.

xxx end chapter 38 xxx

Anecdotal Recollections

xxx

Out of courtesy toward Severus, Harry decided that he would wait until much later that night to open the gifts he'd received from his other friends. He had actually spent a very enjoyable, though uneventful, day with his father. Although things were still not quite back to normal between them, they managed to avoid most sensitive topics and make light conversation throughout their quiet game of chess. Harry did not mind that there was little excitement. In comparison to his past Holidays, he felt far more fulfilled as the day turned to evening. This in itself was more important than any of the gifts remaining under the tree at the end of the night.

While Severus offered to take Harry out for dinner rather than eating in once again, Harry felt that this would somehow ruin the magic of the day he'd enjoyed thus far. He and Severus seemed to agree, in the end, that a small meal would do, and they resolved not to venture out into the town. Finally settling into the house and the routines that came with living in it, Harry was finding himself reluctant to spend much time away from it since he knew he had so little in the first place.

Later that night, as the two sat quietly in the study, each content to focus on his own task, Severus heaved a long sigh and looked up from his desk at Harry, a pained expression gracing his features.

"What is it?" Harry asked, unsure whether or not it was acceptable to be amused by his father's face. That was the closest he ever had, or probably would, see Severus get to a pout.

"I have to go back to Hogwarts tonight," Severus droned wearily, removing his rarely-used spectacles from the bridge of his nose and pinching the place where they had been perched. "Again," he added, dropping his head and shaking it.

Harry frowned slightly, though he was well aware of the small smile creeping across his face in sympathy for Severus. "Anything important?"

Severus shook his head and closed his eyes, muttering something incomprehensible. "Just some Slytherin common room issues, disciplinary and such."

Harry's facial expression hardly changed, though his eyes lit up considerably. "Slytherin dramatics?"

"Not to be shared with nosy Gryffindors," Severus said in half jest, rising from his seat. "Will you be alright if I leave you here for awhile? I'll be back before long."

"I'm certain I can manage to stay out of trouble for at least a few hours," Harry quipped, shrugging. "But I make no promises."

"Ah, well, in that case," Severus said wryly, rising from his chair, "I make no promises to allow you to maintain your life if you should do anything inanely witless."

"Fair enough," Harry replied, tilting his head to the side and flipping the page in his book.

Severus quirked his lips a bit as he filed the rest of his papers into his drawers. "I am serious, though," he said a moment later, straightening the last on his desk. "Try to keep the trouble making to a bare minimum, if at all possible."

Harry waited a moment, an expectant expression on his face, until Severus finally looked up and furrowed his brow, asking, "What?"

"Aren't you going to tell me that I won't like your reaction otherwise?"

Severus narrowed his eyes disconcertedly, and Harry explained, "You usually follow statements like that with some sort of similar warning." He shrugged. "Just asking."

"Ah," Severus said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I should think it goes without saying. Am I correct?"

"Yes," Harry responded, lowering his voice slightly and flattening his tone to one of complete solemnity. "You have ascertained the situation with total accuracy."

"Are you trying to imitate me?" Severus asked in incredulous tones.

"A little, yeah," Harry admitted, nodding.

Severus' eyes flickered to the ceiling, and he threw his cloak over his arm. "Just behave," he breathed, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. Harry laughed aloud and shook his head, returning his attention to his book.

Before long after that, Harry began to feel isolated sitting in the study by himself, and found himself too restless to complete the readings Severus had suggested he get started on. Satisfied that, having read two chapters, (including the notes Severus had scribbled into every margin in the book) he would be forgiven for giving up the task now, he took the book over to his desk and set it on the chair so that he would not forget to continue reading. He blew out the few candles lit in the room and left with no intention to return.

Though Harry had been able to wait all day to open the gifts he'd been sent, now that Severus was gone, he found himself rather curious about what he'd received from his friends. Now seemed like a better time than any to find out, he supposed.

Harry made his way into the living room and began sifting through the pile of gifts there. As he had told Severus earlier, many of the gifts were from people he barely knew, though he could hardly call them followers. Many of them were from the ministry, in an attempt to apologize for their actions the previous year.

Out of curiosity, Harry opened a small gift from one Loriea Coffen, discovering a very expensive Wizarding watch within the package. Frowning, he lifted it out and inspected it, finding the two simple words, With Admiration, inscribed on the backing of it. He rolled his eyes and tossed it carelessly into the box, shoving the rest of the unknown gifts aside. He would decide what to do with those later.

Harry did not find a gift worth opening until he stumbled across a large bundle of gifts, all sent from the Weasleys. Eying the lumpy package that was sure to contain his Weasley jumper, Harry grinned and pulled it away from the bundle. He unwrapped it quickly and slid it over his head, pleased by the familiarity of it. Though he had Severus now, it seemed important to be reminded that his relationships with others were still as strong as they'd been before. Finally, he was coming to a point in his life where he rarely felt alone.

Remaining seated on the floor, Harry leaned back against the couch and pulled an average sized box onto his lap. The package, wrapped in vibrant paper of many colours, was labelled: From Ron & Ginny.

Harry frowned thoughtfully at this, wondering what the two of them would put their heads together and come up with. Peeling back the paper, he soon found out. The box was not shiny or new, but it had written across the top in lavish scrawl, Secrecy Sensor '96. Harry grinned oddly and pulled it entirely out of the paper, flipping open the lid of the box.

Surely enough, inside, there was a device somewhat similar to the one Harry had seen in 'Moody's' office during fourth year. He remembered now his fascination with the many dark detector artefacts he'd encountered then.

"Cool," Harry commented to himself, gazing at the box for a moment before he set it aside. He continued to smile as he reached over and pulled out the rather generously sized bag of chocolate frogs that had accompanied the other gift. He unwrapped one and, before the frog could hop out of his hand, promptly stuffed the entire thing into his mouth.

Trying to chew his mouthful of chocolate, Harry continued to search through the pile until he stumbled upon Hermione's gift to him. The shape of the package was instantly a telltale sign of the present within- typically, she had bought him a book. Rolling his eyes in an almost appreciative manner for her predictability, Harry uncovered the title of the book.

Omniscience in Sanctimonia: Niveus Veneficus

Harry winced a little, unsure whether or not the rest of the book would be as difficult to understand as the title. He pulled down the wrapping paper just a bit more, until he located the words on the cover, 'English Translation'. Ah, always practical, Hermione had thought to give him a gift he could actually use.

Harry was unsure what the significance of the book was, but vowed to ask Severus to explain it to him later. He opened the front cover of the book, only to find a small, handwritten note from Hermione.

Harry, it read.

Happy Christmas! I know you probably won't think much of the fact that I've got you a book this year, but I noticed the Professor didn't have it in his library, and I thought you ought to have a copy of this. It's really a good read, and should teach you a lot, especially considering how deeply you'll be delving into white magic.

I hope you're still having a lovely holiday,

Hermione

Harry frowned, wondering briefly just how Hermione knew how deeply he'd be delving into white magic. Even he hadn't really understood until Severus had restored the room for him- that was something tangible, something of which he could grasp the magnitude. And yet, she had understood even before he did how far it was going to go… how did she do that?

The second thing that caught Harry's attention was Hermione's closing statement. He peered at it closely, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening even further.

I hope you're still having a lovely holiday.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that his friends had absolutely no idea what events had taken place over the past several days. He had a very difficult choice ahead of him: he could either tell his friends what had happened in hope that they would not make a horrendously big deal of it, or he could keep this to himself.

Really, he reasoned, there was no logic in stirring things up. While he trusted his friends with the most dire of secrets, this was not a matter of keeping something private. He wanted them to like and approve of his father; he doubted that would happen any sooner if they knew what had gone on between the two of them. What could they do, anyway, that would be of any help to him? He knew Hermione had a penchant for trying to solve every problem, but this was one puzzle he didn't need deciphered. As for Ron's reaction… well, he wasn't sure he wanted to see just how worked up his friend could get in one go. That was a boundary he had no desire to push.

A short while later, Harry gathered the gifts he wished to keep and pushed himself up from the ground. He briefly considered levitating the items up to his room, but since he'd really only taken interest in the gifts from his close friends, he decided it would be easier just to carry them. He stopped off in the study to set Hermione's book on top of his desk with the other readings Severus had recommended he start on, and then headed for his room.

xxx

Severus did not arrive until much later that night. He was glad when he finally walked through the front door; he supposed he could become used to coming home to a quiet house every night, rather than his empty, cold dungeon quarters at Hogwarts. It wasn't that he was ungrateful for what Albus had provided him with, but he had been residing there for years, and though it was comfortable, it had never exactly been comforting. He hadn't realized this until recently; after all, he'd almost forgotten what true comfort felt like in the first place.

Severus hung his cloak in the small coatroom and headed for the study. The house was quiet, and though he was inclined to believe that Harry would have wisely gone to bed by now, he thought it a good idea to check there before going all the way up to the boy's room to check on him.

Glad when he stepped into a dark study, Severus took a quick look around before turning back around and moving toward the stairs. He reached the upper floor and walked the long strip of hallway to Harry's room, pausing just before his hand came to rest on the handle of Harry's door. He tapped lightly on the wood, and brought his ear closer to it so that he would catch any sounds from within. When he heard nothing, he cautiously pushed the door open, sticking only his head into the room before the rest of his body followed.

Severus moved towards Harry's bed, but stopped just short of it so that the boy would not wake to his father looming over him. He watched the boy's restful form for a few moments, only now realizing how odd it was that his first thought upon arriving home had been to check on his son. He had never become accustomed to such habits, and yet, now that the boy was in his care, they were almost instinctive.

Severus watched Harry's chest rise and fall a few more times, and, secure in the notion that his son was fine, moved through adjoining door between their rooms so that he might get some sound sleep as well.

xxx

Harry was rather surprised the next morning when his eyes opened and narrowed against the sunrise, and he came to the realization that he was being gently shaken awake. He groaned slightly at the awful sensation of being torn between sleep and lucidity, and he felt the hand that had been resting on his shoulder lift.

"Good morning," he heard his father's amused voice say just before he sourly tugged a pillow over his face.

"Good morning," came the muffled reply.

Harry heard Severus laugh quietly and felt the mattress shift as the older man stood. Harry lied still, hoping in vain that his father might leave and he might be able to drift back off to sleep. After a few moments, however, he realized this was not likely to happen.

Taking the pillow off of his head and rolling over to face Severus, Harry glared up at him, though it was without much malice that he did so. "Fine, I'm awake."

"And do you know why?"

Harry glanced around warily, thinking there must be a very obvious explanation for this. Still, he couldn't recall a decent reason. "No," he admitted.

"I believe you have an engagement at the Weasleys' home today?" Severus reminded him, eyeing Harry inquisitively, as though wondering whether this would ring a bell in the boy's mind.

"Oh yeah," Harry said slowly, rolling over onto his back. "But I don't have to leave until… what time is it now?"

"Ten a.m."

"Oh," Harry said, blushing slightly and ruffling his hair. "Well, in that case…. I'd better shower."

"That would be an excellent plan of action," Severus drawled, turning and heading for the door. "Truly inspired."

Harry was rather lucky that the door had closed before his launched pillow had reached its destination.

xxx

Severus ignored the loud thud of an object hitting the door behind him as he strolled away from Harry's room. He shook his head and smiled just slightly, beginning to shift his thoughts from Harry to his plans for the rest of the day.

The workroom he had been perfecting during the past week was, for the most part, complete, and required things that he could only obtain during a day long trip to the market. Still, he had held hopes that Harry would accompany him on such a day, and as the boy had prior engagements made for the current date, he would need to find something else to occupy his time.

The more Severus pondered it, the more he realized he was simply not accustomed to having time with which he could choose what to do. Even when he had been given those rare nights with little left to be accomplished, it had seemed that all the weeks of his constant activity would catch up with him at once, leaving him too worn and weary to even contemplate leaving his rooms.

Though Harry frequently caused Severus stress and headache, it wasn't as burdensome as the other sorts he dealt with on a day to day basis. Despite the problems he and Harry had been working through, he didn't find himself as tired as he usually was. In fact, he felt much better than he had in a very long time- his mood was not as heavy and dour as usual, and there was less weighing on his mind and conscience. Overall, he did not mind these changes.

Severus did not bother to ask Tibby to make breakfast, only because he justifiably assumed that Molly would be preparing an abundance of food for her guests, and Harry would be eating there within an hour. He himself could do without breakfast.

As unappealing as the task had seemed throughout the break, Severus supposed today would provide a sufficient opportunity to grade the papers he had demanded of his seventh years right before the beginning of the holiday. Though his selectivity and high demands had managed to keep his N.E.W.T. level classes relatively small in size, he found that the amount of work he required of them made the work he had to grade equivalent to the quantity of papers he had to mark for all the other years. The only highlight was that the papers were somewhat varied and of better quality, and he wasted much less red ink.

Severus resigned himself to the eventual completion of this task, and took his tea with him into the study. Ever averse to natural lighting, he pulled out his wand and ignited the various candles around the room before settling himself into the high backed chair behind his desk. Opening the bottom drawer where he remembered placing the unwelcome papers at the start of break, he pulled out the considerably large stack and set it upon his desk. The thought that he should have assigned a shorter essay crossed his mind just briefly as he spelled the papers to point out any blatant plagiarism, and pulled over the jar of red ink.

Severus bore the monotony of grading papers for quite some time before Harry surfaced again. He had just finished writing his third abrasive comment on the same essay when he looked up to see Harry standing near the wall, watching him with mild interest.

"Can I help you?" he said in a poor way of greeting, intentionally sounding annoyed at being watched.

Harry grinned just slightly and shook his head, stepping forward. Severus rolled his eyes at this; the boy was getting far too confident in his suppositions that comments such as these were meant to be taken as humorous. At the same time, it made Severus feel much more at ease when he knew the boy would perceive his sarcasm as a good natured, somewhat dry sort of wit. He could speak much more freely knowing he was not likely to offend.

"I think you should come with me today," Harry suggested, flipping out his wand and summoning the chair from across the room. At Severus' doubtful look, he added with optimism, "It could be fun."

"I don't do 'fun'," Severus said slowly, curling his upper lip at the notion. "It doesn't suit me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe you should try something new."

"Give me one good reason why," Severus said dismissively, going back to his paper marking.

"Because I'd like to see you get out of the house," Harry said, earning another skeptical look.

"Oh yes, I believe that. What is it really, Harry?"

"I thought you should…" Harry paused for a moment, his eyes moving upward in an obvious attempt to think of a quick answer, "be there to keep me from making stupid decisions?"

"Is that a question, or an answer?"

"I think you should be there to keep me from making stupid decisions," Harry said more confidently, correcting his tone.

"I doubt even I can truly prevent that," Severus remarked, re-dipping his quill in the red ink. "I'm sure you will manage to have a pleasant time without my cheerful presence."

Though Severus did not look up quickly enough to see Harry's crestfallen expression, he surmised from the silence that followed this that Harry was mildly disappointed. For the life of him, however, he could not imagine why on earth the boy would really want him to attend such an affair. Surely, he knew that Severus could not resist the temptation to taunt Lupin, nor to make underhanded insults at the unintelligent people who could not comprehend them, purely for the amusement of watching their puzzled faces as they struggled to work out what he had said. Why would anyone on earth, much less someone who knew him, want him at any sort of social gathering?

Part of Severus really did not care about the answer to this question; his own firm belief that he was not a party goer was enough to keep him rooted in his spot. However, as Harry sighed heavily and rose a moment later, reluctantly turning to leave the study, Severus found himself unable to let the boy walk away without at least hearing what he really had to say.

"Harry," Severus intoned, stopping his son in his tracks, "Tell me the truth, and I will consider it. Why do you really want me there today?"

Harry froze for a moment, rooted in his spot. Slowly, he turned around, a grimace gracing his youthful face. "Honestly?"

"No, fictitiously," Severus snipped caustically. "Yes. Honestly!"

Harry shrugged slightly and sat back down in the chair, staring at his hands. "The truth is, almost everyone has heard about us… but I don't think anyone really believes that… that this is working. I want them to see that I care for you, and that I'm not ashamed of you… and I'd like if they saw that you thought the same of me… as long as you do."

"Of course I do," Severus replied, tilting his head to the side. He had to admit, Harry had a valid point. What better way to stop everyone's talk than to prove that the two of them were getting along? Even if they'd been having their misgivings, Severus could almost guarantee that they were still exceeding the expectations of everyone who had learned through the grapevine of their newfound familial ties. "You realize I have no intention of being incredibly friendly towards anyone during this occasion?"

"As long as you are not completely hostile, I can deal with that," Harry consented, looking unsurprised.

"Define completely," Severus responded contemplatively, gaining a mildly disgruntled expression from Harry.

"And here I thought you were the king of all words," Harry said dryly, quirking an eyebrow in a manner not unlike his father's.

"I only meant in your terms, since I doubt you know the many variations such a word implies."

"You're right, I don't study the dictionary like you do," Harry replied. "But I will not apologize for that."

"Some people learn over time, Harry- they don't need a book to tell them everything."

"I know, and that's exactly why I do my best to stay away from those books."

"As is reflected in your marks at school."

"My marks have been good!"

"Satisfactory, at best."

"I've got four O's, five E's, and one A! How is that merely 'satisfactory'?"

"Four E's, two A's," Severus corrected, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Your last essay in Potions was not quite up to par. Your other Acceptable is in Transfiguration, Harry. Your lowest grades are in two of your most important classes. I don't really lend much credit to your earning Outstandings in classes that hardly give you any work."

"They give us work," Harry replied defensively, frowning deeply. He had not expected to be confronted about his grades just now.

"Nothing significantly challenging- I speak to the professors, Harry, you forget that."

"I don't see how this is any of your business," Harry muttered after a moment, looking away.

Severus' eyebrows lifted, and he responded, "I do hope that this is just immaturity speaking- I would truly hate to think that you are this stupid."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, indignant.

"You really don't see how this is any of my business? I'm your father, Harry, I happen to care how you do in school. I would like to see you succeed. I would like to see you earn high marks and make it into Auror training as you have long expressed a wish to do. I would like to see you accomplish your goals and feel confident about what you have accomplished. Is that such a horrible thing to desire?"

Harry's mouth opened to respond with an angry retort, but at the last moment, he bit back on it, and muttered, "No."

"You're normally much more reasonable than this. I have seen that you are capable of acting like an adult, but you are going to need to learn how to accept criticism and make the best of it. You realize this, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry replied grudgingly, still glaring off to the side.

Severus was rather surprised by this obstinacy, to be entirely truthful. Though he worked with teenagers on a daily basis, the constant variation in their moods and levels of maturity had never seemed so complex to him. He'd always viewed the children as black and white, having too little faith in the convolution of their minds to lend credit to the fact that they might have different levels on which they could respond to different stigma.

"I had no intention of upsetting you, Harry, but you realize I would have brought this up at another time if not now."

"I understand," Harry replied, though his tone still held a very resentful connotation.

"But you are upset," Severus commented, hoping that Harry would explain why one rebuke could cause him such agony, while others seemed to be taken in with appreciation.

"I just wasn't expecting this to be sprung on me, that's all," Harry said somewhat irritably, not wanting to need to spell it out for his father. "You have to give me a little warning- time to prepare myself. When you just launch into it, it feels like an attack."

"Ah," Severus said at length, considering Harry carefully. "I must have missed that chapter in the book you presented me with."

Severus could tell that Harry wanted to allow a grin at this, but was fighting it in order to uphold his own dignity. Deciding that he wished to see Harry try even harder to fight it, he added with an amused expression, "My apologies- I'll reread and try this again."

Harry did not quite smile at this, but he put his concentration into at least keeping his lips only slightly turned upward and shook his head. "That won't be necessary."

"No?" Severus inquired, tilting his head.

"No," Harry repeated, lifting his eyes to Severus' face. "It's fine. I'll- yeah, it's fine."

"You are certainly more gracious than I," Severus said, before clarifying, "but you will try to bring up those two Acceptables." He phrased the statement more as a stern inquiry deserving of affirmation, and was pleased when Harry did not become indignant once more.

Harry considered Severus for a moment, then nodded slowly, his expression sincere but serious. "There is a test coming up a week after the Holiday in Transfiguration," he told his father. "I'll be sure to do well. As for Potions… perhaps you could show me exactly what I did wrong?"

Severus privately thought it might take less time to show the boy what exactly he didn't do wrong, but did not say so. Instead, he simply nodded in agreement, and, deciding that now was the time to end the conversation, rose from his seat. "Shall we be getting on our way, then?"

Also moving to stand, Harry agreed. Since he had already sent his gifts to his friends so that they would arrive on Christmas, he simply followed his father out to the entrance hall.

"You know, we could just floo there," Harry commented as Severus summoned and handed him his cloak.

"I would find it incredibly rude if I was a homeowner and others insisted on randomly flooing into my home," Severus replied, moving towards the door. "The front door is always the more polite approach."

Harry looked at Severus oddly, wondering where he got the impression that the Weasleys were nearly as uptight and rigid as he was. Really, it was a silly comparison to make. Harry, however, had learned a thing or two about subtlety in the past year, and wisely chose not to say another word on the matter. He obediently followed Severus out the door, and followed close behind as the man took long strides down the uneven path to the gates.

"We'll have to work on your Apparition skills," Severus remarked as he extended an arm. "By my standards, the ministry's guidelines on Apparition licensing are a bit unreasonable when considering the positions you and your peers might find yourselves in throughout the next year."

Harry's lips turned upward slightly. "Well, you can never really trust the Ministry to be reasonable on any point, can you?"

"Ah, so your experiences have taught you at least one thing," Severus declared. "I suppose that's a start."

"It wasn't a hard thing to figure out," Harry commented, just before Severus tightened his grip on his arm and they quickly disappeared.

A split second later, Harry and Severus were standing outside of the Burrow, looking up at the tall unevenly built house.

"Have you ever been here before?" Harry asked Severus, unhooking himself from his father's arm.

"On occasion," Severus admitted, smoothing down his robes. At Harry's questioning glance, he added, "Order work."

Harry nodded. "We should get inside."

"Yes, we should," Severus breathed, not sounding pleased about this. "Lead the way."

"Try to be civil," Harry warned him as he began walking towards the door.

"I promised only a lack of blatant hostility," Severus responded. "You can't change the terms of agreement now."

Harry rolled his eyes, but since he felt quite confident that Severus would not want to embarrass himself by making a scene, he could do without forcing Severus to promise him good behaviour. He had an idea that his father would take such chiding the wrong way.

The two approached the door more slowly than was necessary, not necessarily out of anxious hesitation, but rather because they knew what reactions were to greet them, and were not excessively enthused at the prospect. Though ultimately this would make an effective point to those who doubted their ability to cohabitate, much less voluntarily spend time together outside the house, it would initially be rather uncomfortable.

"I should probably step in first," Harry said, turning to Severus as they finally reached the front step.

"Why, so you can introduce me?" Severus sneered, a doubtful grimace twisting his features.

"No, so that Mrs. Weasley can greet me without feeling out of place… and so that I don't have to bear the embarrassment of you watching any such scene."

Severus' expression changed into something of amusement, and he nodded his consent and stepped to the side, where he wouldn't be seen when the door opened.

"Just step in a moment from now," Harry instructed him, opening the door and slipping inside.

As predicted, Harry met loud calls of greeting as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, followed by the suffocating embrace of Mrs. Weasley's arms. "Harry, dear, so good to see you!" she exclaimed into his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

"And still in one piece, too!" followed one of the twin's voices, earning a few familiar shouts of laughter from Harry's friends.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, smiling and stepping back. "You lot are really funny!"

"Did you come alone, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked him, though her pleasant expression and nonchalant way of going back to cooking suggested that she thought she already knew the answer.

"Umm, no, actually," Harry said. His voice was as casual as he felt he could keep it in this situation, but still, the noisy chatter of the room faded and several eyes turned to stare at him in disbelief.

Harry cleared his throat and managed a nervous smile, stepping back towards the door. "I- er- actually brought my- my father."

Surprisingly, a loud burst of laughter followed this statement, and Harry frowned just slightly, looking for the person from whom it was issued. His eyes settled on Ron, who was clutching his stomach and howling madly, completely unaware of the wary stares that had come to rest on him. "Oh Harry!" he gasped in between wild snorts, "You really had me for a moment there, mate! Really, that was brilliant!"

Harry almost felt more embarrassed for Ron than himself as the boy started into slow claps, looking around as though expecting everyone to join in. He seemed to be the only one who doubted Harry's sincerity.

Ron's expression slowly became more nervous as everyone continued to stare at him incredulously, and his face flushed even redder as one of his brothers loudly coughed the word, "dolt!" for everyone to hear. Hermione shook her head and slapped his arm lightly, as though trying to alert him to the fact that he was making a fool out of himself. All at once, Ron stopped his ridiculous clapping and bowed his head uncomfortably. All eyes in the room turned back to Harry, waiting for a reaction.

Wondering whether some supreme being would take mercy and allow the floor to instantaneously open up and swallow him entirely, Harry cleared his throat for the second time and forced an awkward chuckle. Unable to bear all the attention concentrated on only him, he stepped towards the door, conscious of the fact that there would be a noticeable shift of focus once his father stepped into the room.

xxx

Severus leaned against the doorpost, staring over the Weasley's front yard despairingly. He did not find this situation overly appealing, and listening to the odd sequence of events going on within, his thoughts on it only became more pessimistic. No, this was not bound to be a wonderful day.

Severus' speculations were confirmed as Harry poked his head out the door and winced slightly. He read the boy's expression in an instant: everyone was inside, and they were all waiting for him.

"I would have at least made this situation less painful for you," Severus muttered to Harry as he pushed off from the door frame and slid inside past the boy. Harry shrugged just slightly and followed him.

The only reason that a hush did not fall over the room at the sight of the Potions Master was that no one had recovered enough from the shock to start talking in the first place. To those who had spoken with Harry directly about his father, this was not as awful a shock. To those whose imaginations had been running wild with conjecture, however, this was a great and terrible surprise.

Harry and Severus stood in front of the room, both subjected to the stares of the many people present. While Harry could formulate no thought other than one suggesting he find a way to slip inconspicuously out of view, Severus' mind was formulating a million snide comments he would have loved to dispense were it not for his son's pleas that he refrain from blatant hostility. Instead, he settled for glaring around at the room, issuing a silent challenge to anyone who would dare to question his dedication to his son in this moment. Certainly, the ones who were familiar with him would have some idea of how significant his arrival was.

The silence and tension in the room were stifling, until the screech of chair legs moving across the wooden floor and the telltale clickity-clack of boots against the ground were heard. The only one bold enough to do so, Dumbledore stepped out of the crowd, a wide grin lighting up his aged face.

"Severus," he said genially, extending both hands to grasp the other man's, "so good to see you out and about during the holidays."

Relieved by the old man's tension breaker and annoyed by his friendly greeting at the same time, Severus settled for a polite nod and a simple response. "Thank you, Albus. It's gratifying to see you as well."

Dumbledore nodded, continuing to smile, and let go of Severus' hand. "Now that everyone is here," he declared, turning to face the gatherers, "let the festivities begin!"

"You never do stop being a Headmaster, do you, Headmaster?" Severus said in low tones, smiling just slightly as he stepped forward to stand next to Dumbledore.

"I find it is best to remain in a consistent state of mind," Dumbledore responded, turning to look at Severus. He stared at him for just a moment, and then tilted his head just slightly. "I did mean it when I said it was good to see you out and about, you know. However did Harry get you here?"

Severus looked over at Harry, who had moved to join his friends the moment he crowd had dispersed, and shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure, now that I think of it," he replied. "He wanted me to… I suppose that was enough to sway me."

"My, Severus, getting soft in your old age, are you?" Dumbledore quipped, lifting his eyebrows and eyeing Severus in entertained speculation.

Severus snorted at that, and gave Dumbledore a look that could be clearly interpreted as, don't count on that.

"Still," Severus said after a moment, watching his son, "there is something about that boy that makes one reluctant to disappoint."

"You've always been reluctant to disappoint, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "You work hard to please everyone, unless you believe you can't, and then you pretend you don't care so that the failure to satisfy them won't bother you."

"That is a gross fabrication," Severus remarked, maintaining a relatively mild expression for all the bite in his tone.

"It's not," Dumbledore said placidly. "But if it makes you feel better to deny it, then I will allow you to remain in said denial."

"Blast it all, Albus!" Severus snapped. "Can't you maintain a conversation with me for two minutes without irritating me to no end?"

"That would be a far easier task if you weren't so irascible," Dumbledore replied easily.

A low growl escaped Severus, and he muttered, "impossible."

"That you are, my boy, that you are," Dumbledore said, patting Severus on the back and taking his leave soon after.

Peeved, Severus stood in that place in the middle of the room, glaring at no one in particular for several minutes. He rather hoped this expression would ward off any other unwelcome greeters who wished to inflict their presence on him. It worked for a good long time, until his son turned and started heading toward him, and he had to adjust his expression just slightly so that no one (including the boy, with his damned sensitivity) would get the wrong idea.

"Enjoying yourself?" Severus asked flatly as the boy approached, raising an eyebrow.

Harry lowered his eyebrows and quirked the corners of his lips, responding, "It's been about five minutes, but yes."

"That long already, really?" Severus said, mockingly lifting one of his wrists and squinting at it as if reading a watch. "Hmm, time flies when you're having such fun."

"Don't be rude," Harry reminded him, shaking his head. "Anyways… try not to look so intimidating. You're on your way to spending the entire night alone, and if that happens, I'll have to come keep you company and badger you with my annoying attempts at conversation."

"The horror," Severus responded dryly. "I was planning on finding a quiet place to sit, actually, where I will go unnoticed. You needn't worry about me."

"Good luck finding a quiet place in here," Harry said, looking around warily at the crowd. "There's quite a turnout."

"There is," Severus agreed absently, his expression deepening into a frown as he stared over Harry's head.

"What is it?"

Severus shook his head, his expression darkening. "He had better not be heading my way."

Harry's eyes widened at his father's tone, and he turned to look behind him. Headed in their direction was Remus Lupin; suddenly, Harry understood his father's displeasure.

"I know you're still upset with him-" Harry started to say, turning around, only to see his father glaring menacingly down at him.

"I will keep my promise," Severus growled, attempting not to move his lips noticeably much, "as long as you do not finish that sentence while that man is in hearing range."

"He's not-"

"Good afternoon, Severus," came a bright voice from behind Harry. Harry moved to turn around, but a hand came down on his shoulder and held him in place. "And to you as well, Harry."

Harry was not surprised when Severus' eyes flickered up to the ceiling in open annoyance. "Hello, Lupin," he drawled monotonously.

"It's good to see you here," Lupin commented. "I wouldn't have expected it."

"A sentiment which has been shared with me already," Severus sneered, more than a little put off by having this expressed to him twice. "Do try to be a bit more original, if such a feat is at all manageable for you."

By this point, Harry had managed to wriggle out of Lupin's grasp and had taken his place beside the former Defence Professor. He glanced at Lupin's confused expression, and turned to Severus. "I think he just got here, if that makes any difference to you," Harry offered, earning a dark look from the Potions Master. He shrugged apologetically, and returned to his state of silence.

Severus stared at Harry for just a moment more, and then refocused his attention on Lupin. Tired of exchanging pleasantries, if their exchange could be termed as such, he abruptly asked, "Is there something specific you wanted to waste my time with, Lupin, or are you standing here because you have some deranged and sadistic desire to carry out James Potter's personal vendetta against me by arranging yourself as the permanent bane of my existence for all of eternity?"

Harry wanted to ask Severus how long he had been waiting to use that particularly long winded string of insults, but judging by the look on his father's face, he could accurately guess that this was not a wise time to do so.

"Actually," Lupin replied after a few seconds, seemingly unperturbed, "I did have something I wished to speak with you about."

Ignoring Severus' growl of nonverbal protest, Lupin gestured to a pair of chairs on each side of a small table at a discreet location against the wall.

It was unfortunate, Harry thought, that he was not excellent at coming up with distractions on a moment's notice. If it had been one of his strengths, he might have found a way to deter both men from having any conversation at all, long before Ron and Hermione decided that this was the appropriate time to drag him off into the party. This, however, was not the case, and as he found both at his side, he began to realize that he was powerless over this situation.

"Come on, Harry, it's not healthy to spend all of your time with the adults," Ron tried to reason, as if it were common logic. "You need to have some fun."

"Do you think they'll be alright?" Harry asked doubtfully, ignoring Ron's insistent tugging at his arm.

Hermione gazed at the two for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Well," she said after a moment, "I wouldn't count on a pleasant experience for either one of them… but they're adults, Harry. I doubt it'll escalate into anything…"

"Embarrassing?"

"Ron!"

"Well, I would be embarrassed if I was Harry and my father made a scene!"

"So what? You needn't say as much!"

"You're not my mother, Hermione."

"Oh, grow up," Hermione huffed irritably, rolling her eyes and ignoring Ron's grunt of rebuttal as she turned back to Harry.

"They'll be fine," she assured him, patting his elbow comfortingly. "And even if they're not- you can't take responsibility for everything the man does."

"That's true…" Harry agreed, though he was still skeptical. Lupin was talking, now, but Severus didn't look like he was absorbing very much of what the man was saying.

Though he had verbally agreed, Harry continued to stare at the two men for a long moment, causing Ron and Hermione to exchange glances behind his back. Interpreting Hermione's slight jerks of the head in Harry's direction as a signal of some sort, Ron nodded and began pulling on Harry's elbow once more. "Anyways, some interesting things have been going on you might want to know about," Ron said, gaining Harry's attention.

Harry's inert attention focused on his father and Lupin lessened somewhat, and he turned to respond to Ron. "What do you mean?"

Ron opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione shook her head. "Not here," she instructed them, looking around at the many people milling about. "Let's take a walk."

Harry winced and looked back, and Hermione repeated once more, "I'm telling you, Harry, they will be fine. Come on."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry agreed, trying to shake off his worry. Hermione was right… or at least, he hoped she was. Everything would be fine.

Ron led Hermione and Harry to the closet where his mother had stored all the cloaks and hats of the guests, and summoned theirs from the masses.

"Good," Hermione said, throwing her cloak over her shoulders. "Now we can go outside and talk, away from all this noise."

Harry was sure that no one would overhear them anyways, given how distracted they all were with their own affairs, but he felt it would be best not to contradict Hermione on this particular issue.

The three discreetly made their way outside, and began their walk to the back of the Weasley's property.

"Dad's been working on setting up a weather dome," Ron informed the other two as they headed away from the house, far out of hearing distance. "He wasn't able to test it before today, though, so Mum wouldn't let him use it."

"What's a weather dome?" Harry inquired.

"It's sort of a warded area where the weather is different than what is outside. It's great for if you want to play Quidditch in the winter or cool off in the summer. It can be a bit expensive to find someone to put it up, but it was covered by the Order this time around."

"Why's that?"

"They reckon it'll be a good place to train younger members," Ron responded, grinning at this.

Hermione nodded. "That's part of what we wanted to tell you. They're letting us into the Order as soon as you turn seventeen."

"Why when I turn seventeen?"

"Well, seeing as how you'd tell us everything anyways, there's really no point keeping us out as well," Ron replied, shrugging. "Seems they've finally wised up to that fact."

"Still, they're not telling us much until then," Hermione said. "There are several people who are strongly advocating raising the age, and the other adults are determined not to validate their point."

"We were actually wondering if Snape had told you anything about what's been going on…" Ron remarked suggestively, trying to look innocently curious.

"What do you mean, 'what's been going on'?" Harry asked, frowning. He hadn't heard of anything new happening recently.

"Harry, something's been going on," Hermione said seriously, fixing him with a grave look.

On his other side, Ron nodded. "Dad hasn't made it home before midnight in weeks, and mum has a near panic attack every time one of my brothers gets home later than they said they would- she won't even let Ginny or me out of the house!"

Harry's frown deepened, and he said quietly, "My father hasn't said anything… have there been any Order meetings lately?"

"They've started conducting them in the late hours of the night, or early morning- you're probably in bed when Snape leaves," Ron informed him. "I only know because Mum insists on kissing us all goodbye before she leaves, when she thinks we're asleep."

Harry only murmured in response. Severus had promised him information on a need to know basis. Perhaps he thought that the current events were not significant enough to worry Harry over… or perhaps he had forgotten his promise. Harry wondered whether bringing the topic up again might make Severus feel as though Harry lacked faith in him. The man did have a tendency to take things the wrong way.

xxx

Severus was acutely aware of his son's watchful eyes as he moved to sit down with Lupin. With every fiber of his being he wanted to lash out at the man before him; the last time he'd looked at his face, the man had been saying that Severus was an unfit parent to Harry. No matter how much he might have agreed with that statement at the time, he still felt Lupin had overstepped his boundaries by saying so, to both his son and the Headmaster.

"Severus, I've been thinking," Lupin started out, smoothing down the fronts of his robes and looking across the table at Severus. He opened his mouth to continue, but at the very moment he did so, Severus turned his eyes upon him once more, his expression foul. Once Remus had taken that as his cue to stop speaking, Severus neutralized his expression and looked away.

"Listen, I'm going to warn you right now," said Severus, fully conscious of the fact that he was interrupting the other, and gazing straight ahead with a mild expression, making it appear as though the topic of conversation were as benign as the weather. "If you are about to speak of the events which occurred the last time we met, I may be tempted to break the promise I made to Harry to be somewhat civil during this outing. If you tempt me in such a way, and cause yet another difficulty for the two of us to overcome, I will be sorely displeased with you. Knowing that, you will do well to remember, Lupin, that I am not a kind man."

Lupin's eyebrows lifted slightly as he angled his head downward and responded mildly, "I was going to apologize, Severus. Perhaps if you were not so quick to temper, you might have realized that before wasting all that energy on yet another defensive monologue."

Severus' eyes narrowed as he returned his regard to the other man, and he growled warningly, "Lupin…"

Shaking his head, Lupin held up a hand. "There is no need, Severus. I'm not here to argue. It was not my attention to appear to be goading you, either, so I feel I must offer my apologies for that as well."

Severus considered responding, but at this point, he felt as though nothing he said would give him an advantage. A quick slant of the eyes told him that Harry had finally moved on with his friends, and he decided that perhaps he would not be sacrificing so much pride if he were to relax and allow Lupin to speak. After all, Lupin was not here to attack him- it merely made him look as though he felt deserving of an attack if he continually defended himself. Instead, Severus narrowed his eyes and folded one arm over the other, leaning back in his chair to take in what the other man was saying.

"When Harry chose to go back with you, I openly called it a mistake. I was… determined to protect the boy- I know it upsets you, but I feel a certain duty to protect him. I have since we met."

"Lupin, while this is all very touching," Severus drawled sardonically, "I really do not see what your personal conflicts have to do with me. Not once have I wondered what goes on in your head, and even now, when offered such information openly, it holds no appeal. You may think you are some complex mystery that I am just dying to solve, but-"

"Please, Severus," Lupin interrupted, an almost pleading quality to his voice, "from one guilty conscience to another. Please, allow me the opportunity to explain myself."

"Allow you to once again be the better man of this situation, you mean," Severus corrected, scowling off to the side.

"You know that's not my intention," Lupin said quietly. "I only want to do what feels right."

"Then why not tell these things to Harry? He cares about them far more than I."

"As odd as it may sound, Severus… he forgives too easily. He would happily hear my explanation and consider it fact, with no further investigation or grudges to be held. To earn your mere tolerance is a far greater sign of redemption."

"Redemption?" Severus scoffed, thinking that such a notion sounded ridiculous. "Pray tell, Lupin, what have you to be redeemed for?"

"I feel as though I have continually wronged you, Severus, I cannot deny it," Lupin admitted, a note of grievance in his voice that Severus considered highly melodramatic given the relatively unspectacular set of circumstances. "In our school years, I never helped you. When you were with Lily, I spoke only of a desire to protect her from you. And now, with your son, I feel as though I've done exactly the same thing- and while I can easily say I excuse my actions with the fact that I was partially correct in my prior thoughts about you… I wasn't. I never knew the full stories. You've always been a good man, and I rarely give you credit for that… that in itself seems a great crime, considering how many times you've proven all assumptions of your wickedness to be complete falsities."

Severus narrowed his eyes, and examined the man sitting across from him at length. After a long pause, in which Lupin was painfully aware of the unimportant events going on around their discussion, Severus spoke slowly and deliberately. "And for exactly how long did you listen to Dumbledore's blathering before you came to these conclusions, Lupin?"

Severus had not meant this to be an amusing question, but nevertheless, Lupin smiled. "You are incredibly intelligent, do you know that Severus?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Ah, well," Lupin breathed. "You are correct. I came to these conclusions after listening to Dumbledore speak at length about why he did not feel the necessity to forcibly remove Harry from your guardianship. I'll admit, when you left, I was utterly unconvinced that he had any sound reasoning other than blind faith in a man he would like to believe reformed."

"And what did he tell you?" Severus inquired, sounding relatively dispassionate for all the curiosity he had about Lupin's potential answer.

"Too many things to recall," Lupin told him. "And all were things of which I was completely unaware. I have misjudged you, all these years, Severus. When I came to Hogwarts to teach several years ago, I trusted you to remain loyal to our side… but that is because I believed you to have learned from your mistake of joining the Death Eaters, not because I suspected your intentions were ever honourable to begin with."

"To be honest, Lupin," Severus said, unsure why he should tell the man anything at all, "I'm not sure they were ever very honourable. I joined the Death Eaters because I thought it would make life easier for Lily and I during those times… it was not out of a desire to commit the crimes that I did, but I will not say that the sense of power they brought did not appeal to me. I may have never had a particularly malicious intent when I signed up, but I participated in all manners of different sins while I was with them, and I certainly didn't join out of a desire to fulfil some divine purpose for the side of the light."

"The Headmaster never asked me to believe that you went into it with completely honourable intentions… but the logic that he explained to me was far better than any purpose I had dreamt up."

"And what did you think to begin with?"

Avoiding his gaze, Lupin responded, "I thought you believed in the cause… I thought it was an act of vengeance against those who had wronged you on the other side. I thought you intended to drag Lily down with you."

While Severus would have normally resented such statements, in this moment, he could recognize them for what they truly were. They were truthful confessions, and given the context in which they were spoken, he couldn't find great sums of anger to dispense on the other man. Some part of him expected others to believe that these had been his purposes- they hadn't been, but they did make sense, if one knew little about him.

"I hope now that you realize these things aren't true," Severus said quietly, surprised at the rational tone of his own voice.

"Of course I do, Severus," Lupin intoned, frowning slightly. "That's what I wanted to tell you. If I didn't understand all these things, I would not apologize for the way I tried to prevent Harry from going back to live with you. I felt quite justified, at the time. Now, however, I can see that I was wrong."

"That is… an acceptable notion, Lupin," Severus said, only realizing afterwards that he had somehow just granted Lupin forgiveness. What an odd thought that was. "I am… I am glad to hear it."

A small smile crept across Lupin's face, and he asked, "Are you really, Severus?"

Severus shrugged just slightly, and waved a hand dismissively. "Well, it's not really that I care what you think… but Harry seems rather fond of you. I would have a rather difficult time putting up with you, if you had not shared this with me, I suppose."

A chuckle escaped the former Defense Professor, and he responded, "Thank you, Severus. You are a truly gracious man."

"Now, that might be taking things a bit far," Severus warned, though his tone was good-natured at its core.

"Can I get you a drink, Severus?"

Severus rolled his eyes; how had one conversation with Lupin ended with the man asking him if he cared for a drink, as if they were friends of some sort? Still, he replied, "That would be… agreeable. I suppose it's the only way I can bring myself to tolerate the rest of this night, after all."

"Do you ever allow yourself to relax?" Lupin inquired, rising from his seat.

Severus shook his head slowly, and at Lupin's questioning expression, explained, "Old habits, and all that."

xxx

"Oye, you three!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione abruptly ceased their talking and looked up at the petite, redheaded girl hurrying down the hill.

"Mum told me to warn you of the consequences should any of you step into that dome," Ginny told them breathlessly, lowering her voice as she came closer. "And you, Ron, should know not to be anywhere near it! It's not been tested yet."

"Oh, Ginny, you know just as well as I do there's nothing wrong with it. Mum's just being paranoid, is all."

"Tell that to Edward Birkner," Ginny responded. "You know all that scarring he's got? It's what they couldn't fix after he was nearly baked in one of these things."

Ron made a face somewhere between a grimace and an expression of severe pain, and Ginny nodded solemnly. "So stay away."

"Right then," Ron said after a moment. "So, back up to the house? Think we've talked enough, anyways."

"What were you talking about?" Ginny inquired, frowning.

Ron opened his mouth to tell Ginny it was none of her business, but Hermione spoke first.

"We were explaining to Harry how everything's been acting up again," she informed Ginny, readjusting her gloves.

"Oh yeah, really bad, that," Ginny agreed. "Not sure exactly what's been happening… but whatever it is, it's got all the adults worried."

"More attacks, d'you reckon?" Harry asked her.

Ginny shrugged. "I'd think we would have heard about those, if that were the case," she said contemplatively. "No, I think it's something more profound than that."

"Well, whatever it is," Hermione breathed, leading the group back up to the house. "I hope it ends soon."

"Agreed," Ron said, taking up stride right next to her. Harry fell behind just a bit and walked behind the others, until Ginny noticed and moved back to join him.

"I wanted to thank you for the necklace you got me, by the way," Ginny told him, not the slightest bit embarrassed by it. "It was really nice."

Harry shrugged, and wished in that moment that he could keep as calm as Ginny. As usual, he could practically feel his face heating up, and he could only attempt to dismiss her gratitude. "Oh, it was nothing," he insisted, fisting his hands in his pocket and staring straight ahead.

"Oh, it was something," Ginny corrected him, causing him to lift his head up sharply. Their eyes met momentarily; Ginny's cool expression broke into a shy smile, and she quickly looked down at the ground again.

Ron's plan to slip past his mother unnoticed was not a successful one. Mrs. Weasley greeted them at the door when they arrived, a disgruntled expression on her face.

"Honestly, what were you four doing out in the snow?" Mrs. Weasley chided, dusting the snow off of all four of them and systematically gathering their cloaks.

"Talking," Ron muttered, glaring at his mother as she pulled his cloak off his shoulders.

Harry and Hermione tried to conceal their smiles as Mrs. Weasley proceeded to dry his damp hair with a kitchen towel, while Ginny took advantage of her momentary distraction by slipping off into the crowd.

Finishing with Ron and shooing him and the others off, Mrs. Weasley turned and muttered to herself, "Now, where's Ginny?"

The rest of the night was, to a certain extent, uneventful in terms of deeply involved conversation topics. The only slightly disturbing thing he'd been made aware of was the fact that Severus' birthday was fast approaching, and Harry would once again be forced to come up with another appropriate gift.

Harry found particularly comforting the absence of exchanges bordering on the edge of obscurity and pessimism, savouring the notion of spending at least one night in complete ignorance of the current events. Though he did not particularly like having things hidden from him, he was beginning to wonder if it were better that he did not realize the impending dangers.

Or perhaps that was Ron's stash of firewhiskey talking, but Harry wasn't in a state of mind to debate such things.

Harry was rather enjoying himself even as the party began to subside and people came to exchange their goodbyes. He, Ron, Ginny, and even Hermione, were all spread out on the couches, basking in their hazy, liquor induced glows. They weren't idiots, especially with a witch like Hermione in the group- they weren't quite what one would call intoxicated- even Molly Weasley would not reprimand them for having imbibed as much liquor as was in several glasses of wine, but it was certainly enough to take the edge off. Freedom from excessive thought, one could call it.

It was not until Harry looked around and saw Lupin and Severus approaching that he remembered his earlier worries about the two. A sudden panic struck him as he realized that he had forgotten to check on their progress, but after a moment, he also came to realize that clearly, nothing bad had come of it. In fact, his father's expression was quite a bit more relaxed than he had seen it in some time. Actually, come to think of it, it looked as though Severus had also been dosed with a glass of amber tranquillity.

"Harry, it's getting rather late," said Severus as he came to stand next to the couch, looking down his aquiline nose at his son. "We should be going."

Though normally Harry would acquiesce in favour of arguing like a petulant child, his relaxed frame of mind granted him apathy about such things. "Can't I stay just a bit longer?" he asked sleepily. "I'm enjoying myself."

It was clear to the few who remained in the room that the only enjoyment to be held was the simple satisfaction of spending time with his friends. There was no particular need for him to stay longer- it was a simple, spontaneous desire that those such as Molly Weasley and Remus Lupin thought was sure to be rebuffed by the stern Severus Snape, who neither cared for the whimsical entreaties of children, nor understood why such wishes should occur in the first place. He was a logical creature, and therefore was expected to act as such.

Stunningly to those in the room, however, Severus furrowed his eyebrows and considered his son for a long moment. His immediate response was not refusal, but rather one of pensive consideration. At last, he turned to Mrs. Weasley, and, folding one arm under the other, asked, "Will you see to it that he gets home safely from here?"

If ever there were a moment when Severus acted in a truly unexpected manner, it seemed to be now. Tripping over her words just a bit, Mrs. Weasley nodded, and responded, "Yes- yes, of course, Professor. I'll see that it's at a decent time, as well."

Severus nodded, his quiet gesture a signal of his gratitude. He turned back to Harry, who did not look as astonished by Severus' easy consent as others thought he would, and told him, "You are to let me know when you've arrived home, and do not go anywhere other than here tonight, is that clear?"

"Quite," Harry agreed, nodding. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Severus replied, satisfied when he turned and caught Mrs. Weasley quickly closing her mouth, apparently having been gaping at him during this exchange with his son.

"Are you Apparating home, Severus?" Lupin asked as he followed him to the door, apparently trying to gloss over his surprise.

"I am," Severus responded, though he did not take the time to turn around and address the man. "I don't particularly relish the idea of twirling through that abominable floo connection for five minutes after having several drinks."

"Ah, we're on the same page then," Lupin replied good-naturedly, continuing until he reached Molly. Placing a palm on her shoulder, he gave her a genial kiss on the cheek, and stepped back to smile warmly at her. "Thank you for tonight, Molly. It was a lovely way to top off the Holidays."

"I quite agree, Remus," she responded kindly, patting his elbow in an almost motherly sort of way.

No one was surprised when Severus did not say anything, but merely waited for Lupin together at the door. It was a bit jarring, however, to watch the two men walk out together- it couldn't be said that Severus' demeanour towards Lupin had become anything near friendly, but he was being tolerant of the man, and that was significant in and of itself.

Mrs. Weasley stared at the door for a few seconds after the two men had left, seemingly pondering something of great importance.

"Harry, dear?" she called over her shoulder, receiving only a murmur in response. Taking that as an indication to continue, she asked, "Is he always so relaxed, these days?"

"No," Harry responded, a chuckle to his voice, "But he is rather tolerant, on occasion."

"Well, then," Mrs. Weasley said, turning around and smiling at him, "It seems you've softened him up. I'd have thought it impossible."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the arm of the couch, a half smile crossing his face. He did not share his disagreement with that statement- the man was austere and morose as ever, most days, and though his responses to Harry were far more placid than they had once been, it could be concluded that this was not by any means an indicator of a changing in Severus' temperament, but rather a mark of his deceased hatred for the boy. Still, he could be proud of one thing: Severus had certainly kept his promise for the night.

xxx

By Mrs. Weasley's aid, Harry did an admirable job of making it home at a decent time that night. It was just past 11 when he made it in, glad as he emerged from the fireplace that he had not had anything more to drink. Dusting himself off near the fireplace and attempting not to get any soot onto the pristine white carpet of the parlour, Harry immediately remembered his promise to check in with Severus.

As had become custom for him, he made his way to the study, where he had learned that Severus spent a majority of his time. Part of him wondered why that was; one would think that he spent enough time behind a desk during the term, and that it would be the least desirable place for him to spend his time during the holidays.

Shrugging off this notion, as it did not seem particularly important at the moment, Harry opened the door to the study and poked his head through.

"I'm home," he told Severus, who quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Clearly," Severus responded sardonically, quirking one side of his mouth into his customary half smile.

"Yeah, well," said Harry awkwardly, "Goodnight, then."

Harry moved to retreat down the hallway, but was stopped by his father's voice calling him back into the room. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry responded, walking back into the room. He was a bit perplexed by the suddenly troubled expression his father's face, and was becoming increasingly worried as the man stared at him silently.

"Why don't you sit down?" Severus suggested after a moment, gesturing to a chair just off the side of his desk.

Shrugging, Harry wordlessly walked to the chair and sat down. "All right," he said, as though it was necessary to announce that he was now seated.

"Harry," Severus said again, folding his hands atop his desk and leaning forward slightly, "I've been… considering my reaction to your asking about the house several days ago. It strikes me now that it was rather inappropriate given that I had once promised you that I would tell you what you wanted to know about the past."

Harry waited a moment for Severus to continue, and then, realizing that the man expected a response, simply replied, "Oh."

"I just wanted to inform you that you were not in the wrong for asking, and that I… welcome… your inquiries in the future, if you have them."

"Oh," Harry responded again, still not quite sure what to say. Severus nodded, and sat back in his chair, apparently also confused about how to proceed. Testing the waters a bit, Harry asked unsurely, "And what if my questions are about my mother?"

Though Severus winced at this question, he responded, "Then I will answer them accordingly, I suppose."

"Right… well, that's good to know," Harry stated gauchely, moving to rise from his seat. His main goal at the moment was to remove himself from an uncomfortable situation.

"Was there… anything specific you wanted to know?" Severus asked as the boy rose, aware of the unease they were both facing in this situation, but determined to somehow appease the part of his mind that kept telling him not to make it seem so difficult for Harry to come to him with questions and problems.

"I…" Harry faltered, turning back around and sinking back into his seat, "I don't really know enough about her to know what to ask, if you know what I mean."

"Ah, I see."

"Could you… well, you could just… tell me about her in general," Harry suggested a moment later, wishing he hadn't when he saw that familiar grimace grace his father's face.

"In general? That is a very broad topic to cover," Severus commented. Harry noted that his casual, flippant tones did not reconcile with the tight, uneasy expression on his face.

Harry shrugged slightly. "I suppose it is… well, mostly… listen, I'm about to say something that I want you to try very hard not to take the wrong way."

Severus arched one dark eyebrow, but allowed Harry to continue.

"I honestly can't figure how the two of you would end up together," Harry admitted, hurrying on to explain himself at the darkening of his father's expression. "It's just that…you hate Gryffindors. You hate bold moves and highly opinionated people. You hate to be proven wrong. If anything I've ever heard about my mother is true… it doesn't seem as though you would like her very much."

Upon hearing Harry's explanation, Severus relaxed markedly. Others had insinuated in the past that he was nowhere near good enough for Lily Evans, and it had both angered him and fed the growing monster eating away at his ego. He would not have taken it well if his son had said the same thing. However, the inquiry posed was valid; it was one that many had speculated upon in the past, but that Severus had never had the patience to answer.

For one who could easily formulate hour long lectures on the properties of moonstone being added to a fluxweed based potion, or who could instantly shred an insubordinate student with a complicated, longwinded and yet flawless and artfully constructed diatribe, Harry could not help but notice that Severus was taking an exceptionally long amount of time to compose an answer to this.

"You don't need to answer, if it's too personal," Harry offered, only to receive a sharp look from Severus.

"Of course I don't need to answer- I am not entitled to do anything," Severus snapped, only realizing after the fact that Harry had just been trying to ease his tension. Though he did not apologize after this realization, he did soften his expression apologetically, lowering his eyes to stare thoughtfully at the grain of his cherry-wood desk. This was a sensitive topic, and though the pain of everything that had happened had faded significantly once he'd learned the truth, it would be a stretch to claim it was nonexistent.

Sensing that it might be best to simply refrain from speaking until Severus found the right words to say, Harry sat quietly in his chair, fully conscious of the fact that he was exhibiting many of his habitual nervous gestures, but unable to keep himself from doing so. He was unsure how many times he ran his hand through his hair or rubbed the back of his neck before Severus began speaking again, but he knew that it was a numerous quantity.

"You are right in some aspects, Harry," Severus finally found himself saying a good while later. He continued to stare at the desk, unsure of how his emotions would escalate once he began speaking more thoroughly. He supposed if he spoke as frankly and plainly as possible, he could maintain a casual way of speaking. "Lily should have been everything I detested, but I must admit, her charm and beauty made traits I had otherwise found annoying become quite appealing. She was strong willed and intelligent, and was not given to fits of giggling and gossip as other girls in my year. In our earlier years at Hogwarts, we didn't speak much. She was never particularly hostile to me, but she was a fair person, and I suppose I took her kindness for granted since it was bestowed upon everyone else in equal measure." Severus paused, and, half of his lips quirking upward into an ironic smile, said, "Actually, even if she had been kind only to me, I would have written it off as pity and disliked her for it even more.

"You've told me- I remember- that you used to study together. But... what I am confused about is how you ended up... erm, romantically involved."

"As I have told you before, Lily and I were both at the top of our class, in the way of grades. My efforts were rarely acknowledged, yet it was well known that I was successful in the way of academics. We were both in the same Defense class, and during fifth year, all classes were told that every person must find a partner or be assigned one by the Professor. Your mother, while Gryffindor, recognized the value in having a partner at an equal level of intelligence. She proposed that we be partners."

"And you agreed?" Harry asked incredulously.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows sceptically, as if to ask whether Harry really needed to ask a question with so transparent an answer. "Neither quickly nor easily, no," he responded, shaking his head with an odd mixture of annoyance and fondness at the memory. "Weeks of being stalked by her in the hallways, however, and having her constantly coming up with new arguments about the supposed efficiency of our combined efforts wore me down eventually. I was tired of being bothered, and no one else wanted to be partners with 'Snivellus', so I suppose that I figured I had nothing to lose."

Harry tried to ignore the intense bitterness of his father's tone. "It didn't make you feel as if… I don't know, as if you were being used?"

"My initial reason for refusal, at the core," Severus pointed out as though that was an obvious conclusion to make. "And my reason for- snapping- at her during that memory that you invaded. I'm still amazed that she continued to try after that fact, though it took a few weeks for her to cool off."

Harry winced at the direct reminder of his intrusion of Severus' privacy during fifth year, but did not address it. "So what changed, apart from you being tired of being bothered?"

"I am Slytherin, Harry," Severus responded, a reflective lilt to his voice. "It is only fitting that I would come to admire such Slytherinesque tactics, especially from someone so Gryffindor."

That seemed logical, Harry supposed. Lips curving upward in amusement, he responded, "I see. So then you fell in love?"

"Not quite so quickly," Severus scoffed. "As I said, I didn't believe I stood a chance with her, and I had far too much pride to behave as though I desired a relationship. Needless to say, that meant I wasn't very kind, either. We fought frequently and adamantly, and I could only dream of the end of the year, when we would no longer be obliged to see each other. I continued to try and push her in the other direction, and yet she seemed to find sport in continually goading me and then coming up with clever rebuttals to my insults. After some time, it became something of a game, and by the end of the year when finals came around, I had grudgingly developed something of a liking for our routine bickering."

"Wait," Harry interrupted, holding up a hand, "How is that any different from how you and say, my- James Potter interacted?"

Severus lifted his eyebrows at Harry's slip, but decided not to comment on it. He could see why the boy would still think of James as a father, and though he wasn't keen on the idea, didn't have any viable objections to it. Still, if Harry wanted to break himself of the habit, Severus certainly wasn't going to put a stop to it.

"Lily never meant it," Severus responded after a moment, the glint in his eyes wistful as he continued to gaze at the cherry wood. While his emotions were, as usual, subdued, it could be detected by the keen observer that these anecdotal recollections were stirring up a feeling of intense regret and somberness in the man. "And I knew that. There was never any malevolence to her tone or expression- she enjoyed that someone could keep up with her. I, however, didn't realize I would miss it so much until that summer came. At first I assured myself that I would be relieved to have her out of my life, but as the days went on and I got lonelier, I came to regret having been so eager to be rid of her."

"Did you write to her, then?"

"No, actually, quite the opposite. I've told you, your Mother had a knack for saving people, and I moved to the top of her list. Early July, I received a letter from her, simply inquiring how my summer was going. I answered bluntly- scathingly, even. In a few words, I responded that my mother was still missing, which I would not have shared if it had not already been a topic of quite a bit of gossip once the Daily Prophet had heard of the news- my mother came from a family that, though half blooded, was well known in the Wizarding community- and that her pity was unwelcome, if that was what she intended to give. She responded with a few choice words of her own, and so began our correspondence. It was something of a comfort, that summer… and contrary to my desires, I began to grow attached to whatever relationship we had begun."

Harry smiled at that; it was a comforting thing to hear that his father and mother had been friends firstly, for some reason unbeknownst to him. Perhaps it was that it made their relationship seem more normal, and it was a rare thing that Harry could claim something about his life or family was at all normal.

"Sixth year, we were not forced to partner up, but Lily and I continued to study together and maintain a friendship of sorts. Don't ask how that happened, because I'm not entirely sure … but gradually, it progressed into something deeper. Lily later confessed to me that she enjoyed my company at the start because I never tried to capture her affections, the way certain others did." The lifting of Severus' eyebrows and the suggestive widening of his eyes told Harry that he was referring to James. "She never felt preyed upon, or was plagued by hormone induced immaturity."

"So would that be your advice to me, then?" Harry joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Just act like you don't want the girl, and everything will work out?"

"Your mother was unique, Harry, so I'm not sure how effective a strategy that will be," Severus responded, shaking his head and smiling just slightly.

"Oh, what good are you?" Harry sighed good-naturedly, leaning back in is chair.

Severus rolled his eyes benignly, and, ignoring Harry's quip, asked, "Does that sufficiently answer your question?"

Harry shrugged, thinking that he would have expected something to finally push them together. His father was never open about his feelings unless he lost control of himself in a moment of passionate anger, from his experience, and he couldn't see the man easily admitting to Lily that he had feelings for her. He looked up at Severus, unsure how to voice this doubt without being accused of prying.

Severus' narrowed his eyes at Harry's pensive expression of unvoiced and undecided inquiry, and sighed. "You want to know if there was more to it." It wasn't a question. He was sure of the source of his son's misgivings.

Harry's eyes tapered further, and he asked suspiciously, "How did you know I was thinking that?"

"Not for the first time, I must inform you that you are incredibly predictable."

And here Harry had been thinking that his face had conveyed a mixture of thoughts too complicated to read. Ha.

"Right," said Harry, a hint of annoyance to his voice- not at Severus' statement, but at his continuous inability to make his expressions unreadable. "Well, am I right then? Is there more to it?"

Severus' face took on a grimace of indecisiveness, and he made a gesture that indicated to Harry that he had asked a question too simple for its answer. "Partially," said Severus after a moment. "When I say eventually, I do mean seventh year. And when I say that the relationship gradually progressed into something deeper, I am excluding quite a few details."

"I guessed as much," said Harry. It was a subtle way of saying that he was asking for more than that.

"If you must know," Severus started, leaning forward and placing his hands on his desk. "We were having a row when we first came to terms about our feelings for one another. It was a slip of the tongue on my part that indicated to her that I was interested in something more than friendship."

Harry had to restrain himself from smirking. So, he had been right to think that it would be a moment of passionate anger in which Severus would finally admit something that the man would normally consider so private. "What was the fight about?" Harry asked, now unable to repress his amusement.

Severus' lips were forming one thin line, a sure sign of his irritability at his son's impertinent attitude of amusement, but he answered nevertheless. "She called me stubborn."

Harry couldn't help it: he laughed. "What, and you'd never heard that before?"

"Of course I had. She said it more than once. The topic of discussion, however, made it seem a far more insulting thing to say."

"What was the topic?" Harry asked, knowing he was pushing his luck, but unable to stop himself before the words were out.

"James Potter," Severus admitted grudgingly, hard-pressed to unclench his teeth in order to let the words out.

"Ah, that explains it, then."

"Quite," responded Severus. "This was during that period of time when James had begun to use friendship as a means to his ends, and she was quite naïve to the fact. She had been sitting there while we studied, telling me of all the great qualities he had and how I should attempt to reconcile with him… and you could say I reached my boiling point. I informed her that she was incredibly stupid to think that all he wanted from her was friendship, and she quite vehemently responded that I was simply too stubborn to believe that I was simply wrong about him. Hence began the argument," Severus ended on a wry note, waving his hand as if to say, and there you have it.

Ah, that made sense; much more so than the simplicity with which Severus had explained it prior to this.

Perhaps it was a result of the giddiness Harry was still experiencing from the drinks he'd had at Ron's house, or the recklessness that was inherent in any Gryffindor, but on an impulse, Harry folded his hands formally on his lap and asked with methodical enunciation, "And during the course of this argument, did the two of you engage in a kiss, perhaps?"

The sudden mixture of shock and incredulity that appeared on his father's face at this question was quite worth the response he got to that. "And now it is time for you to go to bed!" Severus announced quickly, standing and pulling Harry to his feet, forcefully guiding the boy by the shoulders toward to the study door.

Despite himself, Harry laughed as he was shoved from the study, and shouted over his shoulder towards the door which had been slammed only seconds prior, "Goodnight then!"

Still chuckling to himself, Harry made his way towards the stairs, thinking as he tripped over his feet on the way there that perhaps it was a good idea that he get to bed anyways.

xxx

Despite how strongly Harry willed time to slow down, the remainder of the holidays went by rather quickly. He was surprised to find that he did not want school to resume. Severus had allowed him to see Ron and Hermione, and Ginny when she was around, several times after Boxing Day, though only Hermione was brave enough to visit him at his home. Ron was still too shaken up from his last visit, and as Ginny had been forbidden to upset the Potions Professor once again, she reasoned it was best she stay away for now, because she could make no promises.

So, here Harry found himself, waking up on the morning two days before he would have to return to Hogwarts and reflecting on how he'd accomplished very little in the time he'd had. Thinking over his plans for the day, he resolved to finish his essays once and for all, and hopefully spend the rest of the next day relaxing.

Sighing at the thought of getting back to work, Harry flopped back onto his pillows and stared blankly at the patterns of frost crystallized on the outside of the window, thinking of nothing in particular. He yawned and it occurred to him that perhaps he could go back to sleep for just a little while, since it was still early in the morning. He rolled onto his other side and, pulling the blankets up to his neck, allowed his eyes to drift closed.

Harry had not been asleep long when there was an abrupt knock on his door, and before he could respond to whoever was on the other side, the door opened and Severus stepped in.

With a sense of urgency, Severus quickly told him, "I've got to leave- it's quite urgent. I won't be back until late tonight, and I expect you to abide by all the usual rules- stay in the house and don't do anything stupid, understood?"

Harry thought that Severus was currently utilizing all the courtesy of a giant rat nibbling on someone in his or her sleep, but because of the situation, he supposed he could understand. He responded with a sleepy nod, and muttered through a groggy yawn, "Stay in, nothing-" his jaw reflexively opened too wide for him to speak, and he finished a second later, "-stupid. Got it." Then, blinking a few times and further processing what Severus had said, he sat up and questioned, "Where are you going?"

"Order meeting," said Severus curtly.

"For what?" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry, I haven't any time to explain right now. I'm already late. Tibby's put on breakfast- make sure you eat. If you're asleep when I get home I'll come and wake you to let you know I'm back." Severus briskly moved to step from the room and, apparently forgetting something, hurriedly stepped back in. "And finish your essays. Alright, I think that's all."

Harry could only blink twice before Severus was gone again, and was very disappointed in both the fact that Severus had not divulged the reason for an urgent meeting and that he didn't get the chance to inform the man that he had already been planning on writing the essays. Somehow, getting them done after he'd been told to made it feel more like a chore. Well, perhaps he could just leave a cliff note at the bottom of each one: Done by own free will, not because you told me to.

Yes, that would make his point admirably.

Or it would just annoy the man.

Either way, the prospects were bright.

Harry was a bit ashamed when he did not begin his essays until one o' clock in the afternoon. Really, he mused, this habit of procrastination was getting out of control. If nor for his determination to finish everything before Severus returned home, Harry might have abandoned the attempt all together. As he had resolved and also been ordered to do, however, he sat down and wrote until the essays were completed, relatively surprised when he finished and looked up at the window to discover that it was already dark outside.

"What a waste of a day," Harry muttered to himself, throwing down his quill and placing the cork back in the jar of ink he'd been using. "An absolute waste."

He leaned back into his chair and stared at the ceiling, exhaling through the corner of his mouth.

There was still time to make something of this day, he impetuously decided after a few moments, lifting his head and glancing at the clock. It was only six in the evening, and Severus had said he wouldn't be back until late. Not to mention, he had only promised that he wouldn't leave the house.

Severus hadn't said anything about not having anyone in.

Never mind that Harry had been warned before not to have anyone over without permission… he couldn't help it if that small detail slipped his mind momentarily. Harry did briefly consider the consequences of Severus finding out… and then he realized that Severus wouldn't find out. Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were undoubtedly at the Order meeting like his Dad, and none of the other Weasleys were going to say anything to his father- they all knew it was just silly to talk to a man who so clearly despised socialization.

The essays that were the result of Harry's last reckless decision were left forgotten on the desk as he went to the parlour to floo the Weasley residence.

Harry was not particularly used to sticking his head through a fireplace to contact someone; it somehow felt invasive to pop up in someone's living room unannounced and ask to talk. Still, he had no quicker way to accomplish the task (Wizards did not use telephones), and so he resigned himself to it.

The sensation of having his head, but not the rest of his body, transported through the floo was one he thought he would never become desensitized to. Once his top half had reached its destination, he shook his head a bit to get rid of the dizziness, and then peered around at the Weasley's front room.

"Hello?" he called, frowning at the thought that no one would be home. "Hello?"

"Harry?"

Harry tried to strain and see who was calling him, but couldn't tell from his place in the fireplace.

"Harry, it's Ron- you can step on through."

"No, it's fine, Ron, just come here," Harry responded, relieved that he wouldn't have to go through a long chain of people to get to his friend. "Where's your family?"

"Big Order meeting. Ginny's upstairs with our cousin Beatrice. Horrid girl. What'd'ya want?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to pop over for a bit."

Though Harry was prepared for it, he was still amused by the way Ron's eyes bulged out of his head and the rather obvious bobbing of his adam's apple as he gulped. "Isn't- isn't Snape there?"

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking this was a stupid question. "There's a 'big Order meeting', remember? What do you think?"

"Oh, right," said Ron, visibly relaxing. "Well, don't you think he'll be rather angry if he comes home and I'm there?"

"We'll just make sure that doesn't happen," replied Harry casually. Though it had occurred to him, he simply didn't see it as a probable possibility. "He said he wouldn't be home until late, anyways. Just tell Ginny to give us a yell if your parents or brothers arrive home- they're more likely to get there before my Dad gets here, anyways."

A mischievous smile crept across Ron's face, and he nodded slowly. "Right you are, mate. I'll go tell Ginny, and then I'll come through."

"Alright," Harry agreed. "I'll step back and wait, then."

Harry withdrew his head from the fireplace and found himself once again kneeling in the parlour of his and Severus' home. Remembering that Ron would be coming through any minute, he quickly stood and stepped away from the hearth, sitting to wait expectantly on the couch.

Moments later, Ron stepped through, a wide grin set in place on his face. "Ginny's rather upset with me for leaving her alone with Beatrice," he confessed, though he did not look the least bit apologetic.

"What's so bad about her?" Harry asked, frowning. He couldn't imagine meeting a Weasley that he disliked, other than Percy.

"She's a third year from Beauxbatons," Ron breathed, coming over to join Harry on the couch. "I think that about explains it all."

Harry smiled and nodded; he knew exactly what Ron was saying. "Anything like Fleur?"

Ron's face wrinkled up into a twisted expression of disgust, and he exclaimed, "Harry, that's my cousin!"

Harry hadn't meant it to come out in the way that Ron was thinking of, but nevertheless, he could see why the comparison might be a bit unsettling, considering the obsession his friend had carried on with the flaxen haired part-Veela in their fourth year. He shrugged and sat back against the couch.

Apparently deciding that the topic was officially done being dealt with, Ron copied Harry's stance and asked thoughtfully, "So, what do you think this Order meeting is about?"

"Don't know," Harry admitted. "But I do know that whatever it is, my father seemed awfully troubled when he left this morning."

"Yeah, Mum and Dad, too," Ron concurred, brushing a wayward strand of red hair out of his eyes. "You-know-who related, you think?"

"I think that part is obvious," Harry responded. "The question is just how closely related it is."

xxx

Severus had been staring at the same spot on the wall above Dumbledore's head for the past five minutes, and Moody was still carrying on about the new safety precautions that must be taken to ensure the safety of the Hogwarts students. The most upsetting thing to Severus, and the reason that he was trying to block out the conversation by inspecting the chipping white paint that covered plaster, was that Dumbledore was actually considering the man's ludicrous ideas. 'Compromising', Dumbledore had told him was necessary after the last meeting.

Ridiculous. If Moody wanted more safety put on Hogwarts, then he could sit outside and guard the doors himself. Severus did not want to put up with a herd of aurors ushering around the school, giving themselves more authority than the teachers who rightfully commanded the corridors.

Heaving an agitated sigh through his flared nostrils, Severus leaned back into his chair and shifted his gaze to the ceiling, searching for another spot worthy of his intense scrutiny. Finding it, he continued to mull over his current situation.

Really, Severus thought, his being there was pointless. He rarely paid attention during the meetings, and ever since he'd lost his position in the inner circle, he had few things to report on, unless someone wanted an opinion on how the Death Eaters were likely to respond to a certain action. Everything he gleaned from the meetings he learned from Dumbledore afterwards, when they would have their inevitable private discussion.

Severus' attention was drawn back to the front of the room as Dumbledore finished his debate with Moody, who (much to Severus' displeasure and curiosity) looked quite satisfied with himself, and cleared his throat to address all those assembled.

"I thank you all for giving up this time today to confront the dilemmas caused by this event," said Dumbledore solemnly, making eye contact with each person at the table in turn. "I will keep you current on any related events, you can be sure of that. We will be placing higher security on Hogwarts, and I'm sure that, despite the many mistakes they have made, the ministry will take this attack on St. Mungo's for what it really is. If ever there was a time for us all to become proactive about the war, this is it- before it is too late."

The mood as everyone rose to leave the room was melancholy, the degrees of ranging emotion demonstrated by the tearstained cheeks of Mrs. Weasley to the blasé indifference of Severus' own placid expression.

While most began to file out, for Severus, this was the time when the meeting was scheduled to begin.

"Headmaster," he greeted the old man as he came to stand next to the podium from behind which Dumbledore had been speaking.

The eyes turned upon Severus were not warm and twinkling, but rather, stony and showing a touch of agitation. Though Severus knew he was not the cause of this, he also knew that considering the other man's mood, he was about to be rebuked for something.

"You might at least pretend to be listening during these meetings, you know," Dumbledore said mildly and yet icily, filing the papers he'd used into one folder.

"I might," Severus admitted, seemingly unaffected by the reproach. "However, the likelihood is not great."

"Severus," Dumbledore exclaimed in a hushed whisper, a mixture of annoyance and disbelief mingled in his tone. "This is not the time."

"Then when is, Albus?" Severus said tiredly, putting down a hand and leaning against the table. "Forgive me if I am not outwardly aggrieved by this loss, but you forget I have had to train myself not to react to these things. To let go of that control now could be detrimental."

"Detrimental to what?" Dumbledore asked. "You are no longer a spy."

"To my sanity- and thank you for reminding me, I had forgotten," Severus responded with a scowl, looking away.

"You know I do not mean to rub salt in the wound, so to speak," Dumbledore said, his tone the same but expression softened slightly. "But there does come a time when old habits must die."

"We're in the middle of a silently raging war, Albus. I do not think that it would be beneficial to kill said habits just yet."

"I have not forgotten," Albus told him, finishing his filing and stepping back from the podium. "Walk with me to the floo connection, Severus."

Severus took on an expression of deep affront at this command, but as he needed to use the floo as well, did follow the Headmaster out of the room. "Is there nothing that you should add to what you told us in the meeting?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not believe this is an instance where secrets ought to be kept, therefore I trust that you paid attention to the pertinent bits, because that's everything you need to know. However," he said, turning and placing a hand on Severus' shoulder as they reached the fireplace, "You should absolutely speak to Harry of this and perhaps Miss Granger as well. You see her often enough that you may do so, yes?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I do," Severus admitted. He offered no argument and asked for no explanation; he had planned on telling Harry anyways. "I will speak to them both."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, moving to step into the fireplace. "And try to come before noon tomorrow, if you and Harry can do so on such short notice." Receiving Severus' nod of assent, Dumbledore took his fist of floo powder and threw it down to join the rest of the ashes, shouting, "Hogwarts!"

Severus stepped back and watched the Headmaster become engulfed in a whirl of green flames, and then stepped forward to follow suit. However, his destination was much different.

xxx end chapter 39 xxx

Chapter 40

The Burdens of a War

xxx

A burst of green flame interrupted Harry and Ron's mundane conversation with a jolt. Both boys looked to see Ginny's head bobbing in the fire, her eyes watering from the sensation of having only her head travel to Harry's front room.

"Mum and Dad are just coming up to the house now," Ginny informed him in a rush. "And hi, Harry."

Harry gave a little wave, still a bit startled by her sudden appearance and unable to say anything as she was already retreating from the flames.

"Right," Ron said, jumping off the couch as Ginny's head disappeared. "I'd better hurry."

"Floo powder is right there," said Harry, pointing to the jar sitting atop the mantel. "Just grab it and throw, you know the deal."

Ron nodded and fisted his hand in the jar, unaware that several untimely events were about to occur in rapid succession. The fireplace ignited in an emerald glow once again, simultaneously with the unhappy timing of Ron's right handed pitch of grey, chalky dust into the hearth. The result was one large bang, and subsequently, the issuing of a moderately sized plume of hazy smoke from the hearth and several curse words from one rudely surprised Ron Weasley. A split second of confusion followed, in which both boys attempted to comprehend how the two events had happened right on top of each other, and why, consequently, Ron was still standing in Harry's sitting room.

Along with the smoke, however, their perplexed state of befuddlement cleared. Replacing the cloud of smog was something even more terrifying. Unfolding himself from the fireplace, Severus emerged, covered from his wool-clad chest all the way up to his creased forehead in Ron's fistful of misguided floo powder.

Horrified, Ron took a clumsy step backward, nearly tripping over the low coffee table and catching himself just before he fell. Harry instantly swung his feet off the couch and, with no amount of grace, sprang up, knowing that he would much prefer standing to sitting when his father came after him, even if the results would be the same.

Severus, however, neither reached for Ron's nearby throat, nor did he move towards Harry. Instead, he stood still for a moment, obviously in just as much shock as the boys had been seconds before. Realizing he still had a mouthful of floo powder, he promptly spit it out, opening his eyes and blinking several times before gaining the presence of mind necessary to reach up and wipe off the soot caking his face.

Severus' next action was to turn his eyes on Ron, who took another step backwards (this time minding the table). He examined the redhead closely for a second, looking almost as if he were trying to understand why he was standing there, covered in dust with this boy in his front room. He then turned to Harry, narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth to deliver what would likely be a vehement and proper upbraiding, but after another moment's thought, closed it again.

He was too tired to yell. It was ironic; but he was too tired to shout.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, and resettling his dark, yet surprisingly placid gaze on his son, he intoned with deliberation, "I do believe this falls under the category of 'don't do anything stupid.'"

Harry grimaced and bowed his head, wondering what sort of tirade this was a preamble for, and when said raving might begin. He never enjoyed the raising of voices and having an angry jet of threats sent his way, but there were worse things still: such as the suspense of waiting for such things to occur, and imagining in great detail how exactly everything would unfold.

Because the pause seemed to be due to some deliberation on Severus' part, Harry, in hopes of deterring Severus from too harsh an action, continued to hang his head and affect an expression of immense guilt on his youthful face. Of course, he did feel guilty, yes—but he feared his hopefulness that Severus would take this lightly would shine through on his face far more than his remorse if he did not take precautions to avoid such a misfortune.

Severus, however contrary to Harry's expectancy, did not deliver the anticipated diatribe. Instead, he merely turned to the annoyingly frightened Weasley boy, and, with a surprising amount of control over his voice, commanded firmly, "You, boy, should be getting home. Your mother is probably having an epileptic fit by now."

Though he was by no means at the top of his year academically, Ron could recognize a reprieve when he was getting one. He nodded hurriedly and stepped quickly towards the fireplace, sparing Harry only one sympathetic glance before throwing the powder into the hearth and this time, disappearing when he shouted his destination.

Ron's absence only served to heighten the smothering rigidity of the silence that had fallen between Harry and Severus. Harry was perhaps more aversely affected by the severe quiet than his father, suddenly made enormously aware of Severus' paradoxically violent and measured pattern of breathing.

The Potions Master was staring intently at his son, wondering how it was that Harry could pull another stunt like this that he knew would upset Severus so close to their last falling out, and at the same time, marveling at the fact that he felt more disappointed than righteously infuriated. Reasonably, he thought, this was a sign of Harry's brazen disregard for rules and even disrespect for Severus. Rationally, Severus' anger over this would be more explicable and justifiable than his surge of ire the previous week. Still, despite these factors, he was simply more annoyed than ireful.

"I'm not going to ask you what you have to say for yourself," Severus said in way of announcement, his almost gently conversational tone of voice deceiving. He watched the flicker of shame pass over his son's face, surprised when it did not satisfy him. In favour of finishing what he had to say, he refused to analyse the reason behind this and continued. "To be honest… I don't care to hear it anyway. Go to bed, Harry. In light of this event I believe it is best we save any of the talks that need to be had until morning."

Severus did not stay in the room to watch his orders being carried out. He knew that Harry would go up to his room as asked—his guilt was too great to allow him to disobey now. As for himself, he needed to take a hot shower and try to find some rest before he rose again in the morning. He could not—would not—deal with this until then.

Harry watched his father move from the room, the man's movements slowed by physical fatigue and mental weariness. Somehow, he thought, he would have preferred the shouting.

Though Harry realized it was more than slightly foolhardy to provoke Severus further, he knew he could not handle going to bed until he'd made things right, at least somewhat, with the man. It was perhaps a poor decision, but Harry followed Severus, walking quickly to catch up with him before he reached the stairs.

"Please—wait," Harry called out after him, even as Severus caught sight of him and began to ascend the stairs with more haste.

Severus stopped on the third step and turned around, giving Harry an even, and yet somehow annoyed, look.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I know… I don't know—that is—"

"Harry," Severus breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and leaning heavily on the iron banister with the other. "I'm sure you're feeling quite repentant, but I am in no mood to speak with you right now."

"But I—"

"Harry."

Harry stopped speaking and waited, wondering at the pained expression on Severus' face. "You have to understand that your apologies only mean something when you stop making the same mistakes over and over again."

Unconsciously, Harry's mouth formed a silent, oh, and his eyebrows lifted. Severus nodded, taking this as a sign that his point had been well taken, and turned to resume his trip up the stairs. His assumption was incorrect, however. Though wounded by his all-too-true words, Harry was not ready to give this up.

"Please—if we could just talk—:

Severus stopped moving once again, but did not turn to look at Harry. "I can't. I can't speak to you right now." He sighed heavily and lowered his eyelids "I'm going upstairs, and you're going to check that there are no candles left burning in the house, and then you are going to do the same as me. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded, knowing very well that Severus could extinguish every candle from where he stood, but that he was using this to divert Harry's attention away from him.

"Afterwards, you will need to pen Miss Granger and ask her to be here in the early morning. I shall need to speak to both of you then."

Severus did not wait for a response before taking flight once again, his climb up the stairs slow and executed in an uneven, staggering pace. It was clear that he needed the rest which he sought.

Reluctantly, Harry sighed and acquiesced, taking his left foot off the bottom stair and turning towards the study. A moment later, he turned his head over his shoulder, only to see that Severus had already vacated the landing.

Harry sighed and checked the study which he knew was dark, an oppressive weight settling on his shoulders as he unconsciously began replaying the events of the evening in his head.

xxx

On the whole, Severus was not surprised the next morning when Tibby came to him to inform him that Miss Granger had shown up on their front doorstep, accompanied by Bill Weasley. Rather than being bothered by the thought of dealing with her so early in the morning as he would normally have been, he found himself grateful for her promptness. At least, he thought, he could depend on one of these children to do what she was supposed to.

"Thank you, Tibby," Severus said, rising from his seat. "You should set out breakfast- nothing heavy, just something suitable to eat before we leave this afternoon."

"Yes, Master Snape," Tibby answered obediently, instantly disappearing from in front of Severus like any proper house elf should have done. Not for the first time, Severus found himself grateful that she was the one who had stayed on to tend the house all these years. She was an incredibly helpful elf, and not nearly as irritating as half of those who made up the population.

The previous night's fatigue had not left Severus entirely with his long dose of slumber, but then, he hadn't expected it to. As much as he would have liked to deny it, the fatigue was an inevitable consequence of the mental faculties he employed during times such as these. Though he did not mean to, he spent so much of his time analysing the constantly changing state of society and developing some sort of strategy for coping that it was exhausting, and without the work of a spy to keep his adrenaline pumping and providing a source of energy, he simply didn't know from where he could draw strength.

Further a drain on him was the pressure of dealing with Harry, especially when he complicated matters in the way that he had the previous night. He felt that perhaps if he could trust that Harry was at least prepared in terms of maturity for the war, he might not be so worn by the thought of training the boy in months to come. When he acted so immaturely, however, it only added to the stress of Severus' every day life. He would have to find some way to make Harry see this… he would have to coax the boy into developing some sense of responsibility.

"Miss Granger," Severus said easily as he approached the entrance hall, where she stood removing her clock, mittens, and scarf. Her cheeks were pink from the biting cold outside, and her teeth chattered slightly. Nevertheless, she smiled and returned his greeting, whereupon he turned to address her chaperone.

"Mr. Weasley," Severus greeted, inclining his head.

"Professor Snape," Bill returned, looking equally as cold as Hermione. "Don't mind if I use your floo to get back, do you? It's horribly chilly out there, you know."

"Not at all," Severus said, turning towards the parlour. "It's just this way. You might have used it this morning, rather than taking the walk up."

"I had thought of that, but Miss Granger was intent on arriving early, and I was unsure if you would have received my owl in time."

"Logical," Severus consented, arriving in the sitting room where the man's brother had been only the previous night. He made note to himself to write to the boy's mother and ask her to keep a closer watch on her children—he couldn't have them so frequently invading his home and taking liberties. He said nothing to Bill, however. As he had been an excellent student, this was the Weasley he minded least, even if he would never admit as much.

"Well, thank you, sir," Bill said, stepping towards the fireplace. "Hermione, I'll give your regards to my lazy brother when he finally hauls himself out of bed this morning. Sorry you missed him."

"Of course," Hermione laughed, waving as Bill moved to depart. Once he had gone, she turned to Severus. "Is this about the potion?"

"Very subtle, Miss Granger," Severus remarked dryly, shaking his head and moving past her towards the kitchen, where he saw that Tibby had set out a tray of light breakfast foods.

"I didn't suppose you'd like to hear about how my holiday has been, Professor, and that's the only other thing I've got to talk about," Hermione quipped. "But if I was wrong, please, tell me. I like a conversation just as much as the next person."

"You may spare me," said Severus, shaking his head and fixing two cups of tea. "No, this is not about the Potion, though that should also be discussed."

A perplexed frown crossed Hermione's face, but she nodded. "Should we wait for Harry?"

"No, I'll wake him—"

"It's fine," Hermione said quickly, rushing to get the words out. "I'm sure he could use the rest if he's still asleep."

Severus arched his eyebrow at this, but silently complied, coming to sit across the table from her and setting down the cups of tea he had prepared.

"Then we can speak about the potion, in the meantime," Severus provided, ignoring the direct topic of Harry for the moment. "I believe it's reaching the end of its first period of stasis."

Hermione's look of perplexity turned to one of deep concern, and she protested, "But that doesn't give us very much time…"

"No, it doesn't. Not at all."

"Will you speak to Malfoy, or will Harry?"

"It should be Harry," Severus said, though he had to admit to himself, he was, for the moment, mildly reluctant to lend the boy trust with such an important task. "He'll need to become accustomed to handling these situations himself… though I will speak with him beforehand."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, though she too looked equally unsettled about the prospect of giving Harry such an important task. "It is crucial, though, that he succeed in persuading him—"

"I'm well aware of that, Miss Granger, thank you," Severus interrupted, his tone short. He was pleased when she fell silent. Intelligent though she was, Severus disliked when she took the liberty of lecturing him on things such as the importance of Harry's success. When he wanted her opinion, he would certainly ask for it.

Apparently, however, as Hermione began speaking again several minutes later, he had not done as effective a job at silencing her as he had previously thought. He considered snapping at her once again when she began asking him about the sustaining qualities of blood's magical components, but because he found the question an interesting one to answer, he decided to privilege her with the knowledge he had to impart.

It was gratifying to be listened to, if only for once.

xxx

When Harry woke the next morning, he was surprised to find Hermione sitting in the kitchen with Severus, mulling over a cup of tea and picking at the last half of her lemon scone. She looked up brightly at him when he entered the sunny little room, and he was hit with the sharp contrast of her expression in comparison with that of his father.

Severus had been speaking to Hermione only a minute prior, but when Harry had arrived, he'd instantly stopped, reminded of their encounter the previous night. He neutralised his expression and waited for Harry to seat himself at the table.

"When did you arrive?" Harry asked Hermione, ignoring Severus' intent gaze.

"About half an hour ago."

"She insisted that we let you sleep," Severus informed him, and Harry was startled that the man was speaking to him. "You're fortunate; I would not have been so kind."

Harry was unsure whether this comment was meant to be taken seriously, or if his father had only meant it good naturedly. He breathed his laugh, knowing it sounded synthetic, and returned his attention to Hermione.

"When did you receive my letter?"

"Early this morning," Hermione answered, setting down her cup. "My parents are gone out of town for the day, so I was glad for a reason to leave the house."

"Your parents are away?" Severus questioned, looking concerned. "You should have told someone; it's not wise for you to spend your weekend alone in such times."

Though Hermione looked heartened by his concern, which Severus noticed with a touch of irritation, she casually responded, "I suppose I thought that if something were to happen, they weren't going to be of much help to me anyway. They're Muggles."

"I recognise that," Severus responded stonily, rising from his chair to pour himself another cup of tea. "Still, it's unwise."

"Dumbledore did know," Hermione said a moment later. "He didn't say much on the topic."

"The Headmaster knew and did not think to tell any of us?"

By us, both Harry and Hermione knew Severus was referring to the Order. Hermione shrugged, and admitted, "Well, he must have told some… at least, the ones on duty at my house for this weekend. He seemed to think it was better I stay there than to travel with my parents."

Severus turned around and gazed at her for a second, wide eyed as if comprehension was dawning on him. Then, with one violent shake of the head, he spat an admission of "Fool!" under his breath and went back to preparing his tea.

"Sir?"

"Never mind," Severus snapped, tossing his spoon on the counter and returning to the table. "There are more pressing matters at hand, anyway."

"More pressing matters?" Hermione inquired.

"Did you honestly think I simply asked Harry to invite you for toast?" Severus asked derisively, a familiar sneer to his expression. "You're more tolerable than most students, I'll admit, but I hardly yearn for your presence when it is not necessary."

Harry's eyes flew to Hermione's face; similar remarks had, in the past, had her near tears. This morning, however, she simply narrowed her gaze and set her jaw firmly.

"That was unnecessary," she said quietly. "And you needn't respond; I'll leave it at that. But it was unnecessary."

Severus considered snapping back at her; how dare she speak to him like this? Still, a part of him admired that she had, for once, contained her emotions. He'd watched her burst into tears or go into fits of nervousness at his similar remarks in the past, and her lack of discretion had always bothered him. Today, however, something had changed in her countenance. What, he could not quite place.

"I've asked your presence," Severus finally said, ignoring the situation entirely, "because the Order meeting last night produced some very important information, and Dumbledore has asked me to inform you of it."

Well, this was new, Harry thought. It was a rare occasion when Dumbledore actually decided to let him in on any information, let alone anything of relative importance.

Hermione's rigid look had melted into one of concerned curiosity, and she had unknowingly inched her way to the edge of her seat. Severus took a long sip of his Pu'erh Tao Cha before continuing.

"We will be concluding our holiday a day early. I have asked you here because it is a safe location from which we can leave without making our movements known."

Hermione blinked, awaiting an explanation. Harry squinted, evaluating his father's expression. "Why?"

"St. Mungo's was attacked yesterday, early—just before dawn. The boldness of this act makes the Headmaster fearful that something equally horrific could occur before the holiday comes to a close."

Hermione gasped. Harry dug his fingers into the sides of the chair, but said nothing, waiting for Severus to continue.

"We were fortunate to find that the casualties were few… but unfortunate to discover that the victims were closely associated with our own."

"Who?" questioned Hermione, her voice a whisper, as if she might break if she raised it only a fraction higher.

"The Longbottoms," Severus informed them evenly, accustomed to withholding display of emotion in circumstances such as these. "Frank and Alice Longbottom."

"Merlin," Hermione murmured, paling and rising from her seat. She moved towards the small, white-paned window and stared blankly out of it.

Harry watched Hermione walk away from the table, and murmured woefully, "Neville." A sinking feeling overtook him as he turned his wide-eyed face to the floor.

"Yes," Severus responded, nodding solemnly. "I believe that is exactly why Dumbledore preferred that I tell you rather than keeping you in the dark. Harry, you realise he'll be—"

"Set on vengeance, yes."

Hermione turned around quickly, her pale forehead creased with worry. "You don't really think he'd do something stupid for the sake of revenge?" she exclaimed. "That's not like him at all!"

"You've never lost a parent, Hermione," Harry snapped, unaware of how harsh his voice had sounded until he glanced at Severus' cautionary expression. He gave both of them an apologetic look, and said more calmly, "I'm not sure you understand what it can do to a person."

Hermione tried to relax her stance, and admitted in a conceding way, "No, I haven't. I suppose this is adding insult to injury, as well, considering…"

"Considering what had already happened to them," Harry finished, confused when Severus shook his head.

"No- considering their purpose," Severus corrected. "It is also important that you understand… the Longbottoms were among those that Voldemort could consider true 'enemies'. He couldn't have you, Harry, for the Asterisus Potion. He knows time is running out… Dumbledore has informed us that this is the reason for the Longbottoms' deaths."

A shaky whimper escaped Hermione, and she threw her hands up to her mouth, clasping her own face tightly. She shook her head disbelievingly, and Severus nodded.

"Yes, imagine knowing your parents died to be chopped up and used as Potions ingredients—"

"Oh, Merlin, stop!" Hermione cried, bringing one hand down to clutch her stomach. "…I think I'm going to be ill."

"Not in my kitchen," Severus said evenly. "Lavatory's that way." He pointed down the hall.

Harry looked at his father in shock, and Hermione gave him a look expressing how appalled she was that he could be so blunt. Still, she seemed in need of a moment alone. She shook her head and, with a slight stumble, left the room, heading in the direction that Severus had advised.

"How can you be so insensitive?" asked Harry disbelievingly.

Severus shrugged and leaned against the back of his chair. "You should become accustomed to hearing the brutal details, Harry. Isn't that exactly what you asked of me several weeks ago?"

"I asked you to let me know what was going on, not sit here and describe every graphic detail until it makes me and everyone else sick to our stomachs!"

"You asked me to help you get prepared!" Severus responded vehemently, fisting his hands and rising quickly from his seat. "This is what you are up against! This is why you need to do what I say; take my advice and start growing up! This is a war, Harry, and it is upon us. It's not just a prophecy anymore—it's happening. You need to realise that and start acting like an adult."

"I'm trying!"

"No, you are clearly not," Severus hissed in a way that was all too familiar to Harry. "If you were trying you would consider my instruction far more imperative than you treat it."

"Is this about last night?"

"Yes. If you can't even follow simple instructions, then you aren't ready to be trained. If you can't understand the necessity of withholding your childish emotions at a time like this, then you can't be trusted to engage in the type of mental warfare that will most certainly be required of you. If you cannot take the truth in detail, then you certainly are not ready to witness it! None of you are: not Miss Granger, with all of her intelligence, not Mr. Weasley, with all of his blind courage, and certainly not you, with all of your disobedience."

"That's unnecessary."

"Don't try to play Miss Granger's card! That only works when you're right!"

Harry stared at his father for a moment. He stubbornly had to admit to himself that there was truth to what the man was saying. Finally, he sat down, saying, "Fine. What will it take to prove to you that I'm ready? Because I am. I'm ready to be trained. I'm ready to be told the truth."

"Find a way to fix this," Severus instructed simply, stepping away from the table and towards the door.

"What do you mean?"

"You must put serious consideration into what I am telling you and come to your own conclusion. I do not care how; you must adjust the way you think and behave accordingly."

Harry folded his arms against his chest and stared fixedly at the table. After a moment, Severus seemed to decide that his lecture had reached its close.

"Have your bags packed by eleven," he said cooly, his features smoothing into a neutral expression as he straightened his robes, "and tell Miss Granger that someone will be sent to her house to collect everything she needs."

"Who?" Hermione asked, reappearing at the door, looking mildly better than she had ten minutes before.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Severus said, his tone of voice suggesting that nothing had happened in her absence. "I'm told it will be either Nymphadora Tonks or Hestia Jones. If you want to make a list of what you need, I will be glad to pass it along."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to hand it to them myself."

Severus tilted his head to the side in concession, though his singularly arched brow indicated he thought this request rather silly. "I wasn't planning on looking at it, but if you insist, I will have the Auror meet us at Hogwarts and you may speak to her there."

"Thank you," Hermione said, nodding her gratitude.

Severus dismissed himself from the room a second later, and once Hermione was sure he had gone, she turned back to Harry.

"How can you act as if nothing happened?" Harry asked her as she sat down again at the table.

"I'm not acting like nothing happened, Harry… but I was standing around the corner for a good portion of that… erm, confrontation," she admitted. "He does have a point."

"Oh, great, you too," Harry muttered, slumping down in his chair.

"Harry," Hermione said gently, if not with a touch of annoyance, "Harsh as he may be, Professor Snape's intelligence far exceeds our own. Maybe he's not always rational… but he's not survived this long due to luck. He knows what he's talking about. Perhaps we do need to toughen up."

"Always the voice of reason, aren't you?" asked Harry grudgingly.

"Oh, don't give me that," Hermione scolded, narrowing her eyes. "You just don't like that I'm right. And I am."

"Very modest, Hermione."

"I don't need to be," she replied. "These are just facts."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, and then stopped himself. "Yeah, I suppose so," he sighed.

"Well, I'm glad we at least agree on that."

"Yeah," said Harry, correcting his posture. "When did you start… standing up to him, anyway?"

A flush stole over Hermione's lightly freckled cheeks, and she shrugged. "You know, I've been watching you two the past few times I've been here… and I've come to a conclusion."

"And that is?"

"The Professor's bark is much worse than his bite."

Harry laughed loudly at this, and expressed his disagreement. "I wouldn't say that. It's just that he doesn't bite as often as one might expect."

"Yes, that is more accurate," Hermione agreed with a quirk of her lips. "But I do think I can respect him without fearing him, if you understand what I mean."

"I do," Harry agreed.

Both raised their eyes, and their gazes locked for a moment. Then, almost as if the sight of the other's happy face reminded each of them that the current circumstances were too grave to allow themselves jubilance, both quickly dropped their eyes again, expressions sobering.

"Anyway," said Hermione after a moment, habitually smoothing down her jeans the way she would have her skirt had she been in uniform, "You should start packing. I'm sure the Professor will want to leave promptly."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Do you want to come with me, or stay here and finish your tea?"

Hermione shrugged, and said, "I'll just come up and keep you company." She looked down and touched her cup, which was still halfway full. "It's cold, in any case."

Both knew very well that it would have been easy for Hermione to reheat her tea with a simple flick of her wand, but it was a case of comfort. Neither wanted to be alone right now—Harry because he knew Hermione's presence would be enough to keep his mind off of vengeance for Neville's sake, and Hermione because she didn't want to dwell on the dangers her own parents faced, if the Longbottoms could be so easily eliminated while being kept safe in a magical institution.

Silently, both started towards Harry's room.

xxx

They arrived at Hogwarts later than Severus would have liked, but they arrived nonetheless. Little was said as they made the journey from the front gates up to the doors, Harry and Hermione trailing at the Potions Master's feet. The cold was blistering—worse here than in Flintshire, the town nearest to Severus' home. Harry and Hermione had been ordered to wear hats, scarves, and mittens, and both were glad now that they had complied. Hermione held her scarf over her nose, protecting it from the chill, and Harry kept reaching up to tug his hat down over his ears. Severus wore a simple grey wool scarf and a pair of mittens, and did not appear to be bothered by the wind and snow; he merely squinted against the flurries of white, and led on.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them when they arrived at the doors. She stood inside the entrance hall, ushering them in with urgency, brushing the snow off of Harry and Hermione's shoulders and ignoring Severus, for she knew her attentions would be unwanted.

"Really, I can't see why you didn't simply use the floo," she muttered, performing a drying spell on both the children. She slanted Severus an agitated glance, and he narrowed his eyes.

"It would be unwise to use the floo at such a time, Minerva," Severus informed her coolly, as if it was utterly ridiculous to even suggest such a thing. "Such a move is expected by Voldemort, I assure you—and none of our party is particularly exempt from his attentions."

McGonagall looked like she wanted to agree, but the self-assured and condescending expression on Severus' face held her response at bay. She finished with the children before turning her full attention on him.

"The Headmaster wanted to see you the moment you arrived," she told him, receiving a reserved nod. "You'll need to be briefed on the new safety measures we'll be taking."

"Wait," Harry interjected, alerted to the fact that he wasn't supposed to be listening in when they both glared at him. He continued, however. "Why are we taking new safety measures all of a sudden? We've known all this time what Voldemort was planning to do—"

"Not here," Severus warned in a hiss, shaking his head once. "Both of you may visit me in my quarters tonight—don't bring the Weasley idiot, however, for my patience is running low today."

Neither objected; to have anything explained to them about the situation was a rarity in itself, and they couldn't risk losing the opportunity. Though disheartened by Severus' perpetually ill temper, Harry nodded silently and tried to look grateful.

McGonagall exchanged her last few words with Severus, and then escorted the kids into the Great Hall. Waiting at the end of the Hufflepuff table was a small arrangement of food, and several steaming cups of hot cocoa.

"Neville will be arriving sometime this afternoon," McGonagall informed them somberly, walking with them to the end of the table. "You should be prepared to deal with the situation delicately."

Ah. This was McGonagall's subtle way of telling them to behave tactfully. Harry privately thought that it was a bit silly to think that either one of them should need to be reminded; if anyone could understand what Neville would be feeling, it was Harry, and if anyone deserved an award for eloquence, it was certainly Hermione.

Both nodded to McGonagall and sat down to what she told them was meant to be lunch. She abruptly left them to eat alone, and then went to join Severus in Dumbledore's office.

xxx

"Honestly, Albus, Aurors?"

McGonagall entered the room to find Severus glaring sceptically at the Headmaster, reclined in a deceptively casual position in the high backed chair across from Dumbledore's desk. She silently took her seat, feeling invisible to the two men who had an almost tangible wall of tension between them.

"We discussed this at the Order meeting, Severus—"

"Yes, but I had hoped you were only agreeing to temporarily appease Moody," said Severus. "I had no idea that you could actually be so daft as to seriously allow—"

"It is better that we take precautions now than after another disastrous event, you realise," Dumbledore interrupted calmly, clearly perturbed but actively unmoved by Severus' arguments. "If we do not concede at this point and something happens at the school, we will be labelled as uncaring, having not prevented such a catastrophe."

"Ah, so this is all just a farcical replication of safety, created for the sole purpose of preventing the pointing of accusatory fingers by parents and ministry officials when something else occurs? You do realise that a team of five Aurors will not hinder Voldemort if he should choose to attack the school?"

"Additional defence can't cause us any more harm than we are already facing," Dumbledore responded. "And it will discourage misbehaviour from some of the more dangerous students in Hogwarts' population."

Severus frowned, then looked away. Dumbledore did have a strong point. Voldemort would be training his new pet… his protégé. More likely than not, he would choose a boy who would have easy access to Harry, due to close proximity. If anything were to hinder the actions of such a child, certainly Aurors were one answer to the problem.

"I can see you are considering the point," Dumbledore said, drawing a groan of annoyance from Severus. The old man ignored it. "I'll expect you to cooperate, Severus, is that understood?"

Severus hated that, at times, the Headmaster still treated him like a child. He doubted whether the boy whom Albus seemed to picture sitting in front of his desk could have spent years ducking in and out of Voldemort's circle, loyalties wayward but undetectably so. Certainly he had proved himself more reasonable than a child- he had rationally come to terms with his and Harry's relationship, hadn't he?

A part of Severus realised that, though he was an adult in all these ways and more, the Headmaster did have viable reasons to expect him to raise complications. He was difficult—fundamentally so—and his arguments arose with such conviction that it was doubtful whether his actions would be concurrent with his agreement by way of conceding silence.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, Severus agreed to cooperate with the efforts of the aurors who would soon inhabit the school. On some level, he realised that this meant he would need to give over some of his authority to the likes of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks; on another level, he ignored the fact entirely.

"I understand," said Severus tersely, feeling almost as if he had lost something once the words left his mouth. "Now, I do believe we have more important topics at hand."

"We always do," McGonagall sighed, taking her place in the conversation now that the disagreement between the two men had been settled, at least on the surface.

"Harry needs to begin training," Severus said at once, taking in but not responding to McGonagall's comment.

"It's rather soon, Severus," McGonagall said, the lines etched in her face deepening along with her thoughts.

"It will always be rather soon, Minerva," Severus responded stiffly, refusing to look at her. He stared straight ahead, past the Headmaster, and concentrated on controlling the movement of the rapidly twitching muscle in his jaw. "He will always seem too young, too unprepared- but that's the point of it."

"He's got to grow up," Dumbledore said quietly, resting his hands on the desk in front of him and lowering his eyelids over his tired blue eyes.

"He is close," Severus admitted, rising from his seat and going to stand by the window. "There are aspects of his supposed maturity that are weak, but he is only a teenager, we must remember. Essentially, I believe he has what is necessary to begin this journey."

Severus turned around to face the two adults in the room with him, assuming the same posture he held when he lectured a room full of students. He paced slowly as he spoke, unaware of his movements and far more absorbed in the thoughts behind his words. "His decision making skills are perhaps the least advanced at this point- he has, for the most part, ceased making reckless decisions and acting on an impulse, but his thought processes frequently lack logic. I believe that the best course of action is to train him now according to this weakness- we must hand him every strategy he could possibly employ, and trust our instruction more than his judgement. If we can forestall Voldemort's action long enough, perhaps time will bring him the tools necessary to take our instruction to another level- until then, we can only hope that we are teaching him what he most needs to know."

"What, exactly, do you suggest we teach him?" McGonagall asked, placing her hands on the arms of her chair.

"He'll need to be versed on dueling tactics, naturally," Severus began. It was clear that he'd been thinking for a long time on what Harry would need to learn before he finally faced Voldemort. His face was drawn in with concentration, the rapidity of his thought apparent in the glint of his eyes. "I don't plan to give him practical lessons in the Dark Arts, but the theory is necessary if he is going to come up against it. He'll need to be instructed in the strength of White Magic—Albus' strongest suit. If at all possible, the boy needs to be shown some methods of stealth, and somehow, if it is within my range of capabilities, I should like to force into his thick skull the concept of cunning. That could perhaps be the greatest challenge we face."

"Oh, come now, he can't be that horrible—"

"I assure you, Minerva, he can," Severus interrupted, shaking his head at the thought. "He's not daft by any means, but he's certainly not skilled in artifice or strategy."

"And how are we to teach him such a thing?"

"I'm working on it," Severus replied mildly, causing McGonagall and Dumbledore to exchange glances.

"How, precisely, are you working on it?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

The cautious note of the old man's voice caused Severus to thin his lips and quirk an eyebrow. "Beatings, regular ones," he answered facetiously.

"Severus, be serious," Dumbledore entreated, expression chastising.

"Oh, but I am," came the flat response.

"Severus," McGonagall said, more gently than the Headmaster had. "Please, no one is suggesting anything negative. We're just… curious."

"Ah, of course."

Severus did not retort further after that. He paced a moment more, and finally realising how many times he had crossed over the same stretch of floor, moved back to his chair. He sat down with a restless huff that was small enough to go unnoticed by the other two, and rested his head against the back of the chair.

"Just trust that I'm doing what I know is best for him," he said after a moment, for he could feel McGonagall's eyes resting on him and felt it best to give her assurances before being pestered on the topic. Dumbledore had long ago realised that when it came to Harry, it was sometimes best to let the issue lie with Severus; McGonagall had no such experience to go by.

McGonagall opened her mouth to respond to Severus, but her peripheral vision first detected Dumbledore's discreet shake of the head. She frowned, but acquiesced immediately with his unspoken appeal, and settled back into her chair.

"We should return to the Great Hall," she said tiredly. "The Aurors will be arriving soon."

"We should," Severus agreed, voice equally deadened with weariness.

Despite the general consensus in the room that they should move on to fulfill their more pressing duties, each of the adults sat immobile in his or her chair. Though unvoiced, their thoughts were all based on corresponding branches of the same idea: the war had been going on for far too long. It felt as though they had gone through the same sorts of conversations cyclically; there was always some matter pressing, and there was always the understanding that the decisions they made could very well determine the fate of countless others. The weight of such a burden was pressing, and though they had become accustomed to feeling the strain that accompanies any series of pivotal decisions, the familiarity of such a feeling hardly made it any less severe.

It was an exhausting state of being.

xxx

"He hasn't spoken once since it happened."

These were the first words that greeted Harry and Hermione upon Neville's arrival. His grandmother stood in the entrance, looking after him as he walked wraith-like to the end of the table in the Great Hall. Hermione and Harry turned just slightly, following her gaze, and watched him sit down sullenly. He stared at the food in front of him, but did not touch any of it. In fact, it didn't even seem like he was looking at the food. He really was just… staring.

"—quite shaken, though I can't see the reason for all the emotion—his parents were hardly alive in the first place," continued Mrs. Longbottom, though Harry and Hermione were hardly listening, "but then, that is Neville for you. I had expected to keep him home for awhile, but Dumbledore insisted he return to the school."

"I'm sure it's for safety reasons," Hermione said faintly. Her response was quiet, and almost automated for the lack of emotion in her voice.

"Of course," Mrs. Longbottom agreed, straightening her cloak. It was shocking; one would think that she would be just as emotional as poor Neville, but she was as rigid, austere, and appraising as ever, looking the children up and down as though determining whether they were fit company for her grandson. "You'll see that he eats something, and tell the Headmaster I will speak with him later."

"We will," Hermione answered, though Harry thought it was hardly necessary. Mrs. Longbottom had phrased it more as a command than a request; he doubted she required an answer. She was used to people obeying her without question.

"Well, good day to you both." the older woman said in way of goodbye, nodding to Neville, who was watching her from far away. Slowly, she turned and, clutching her oversized red handbag, moved towards the doors with grace that was impressive for a woman of her age.

"I'm surprised she didn't wait to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione commented in a low voice to Harry.

"I get the impression that she feels it unnecessary," Harry responded. "She doesn't seem very concerned with Neville—"

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed. "You know how voices carry through the empty hall."

"Hermione, I don't think he can hear me—"

"Still," said Hermione stiffly.

Harry knew when it was best not to argue, so he consented and ceased speaking at once. He and Hermione stood in silence for a moment, neither knowing quite what to do next. It was obvious that they would need to go and sit with Neville—they couldn't just ignore him. Harry, however, had gone through periods similar to this enough times to know that there was a great possibility that Neville just wanted to be left alone. Though her intentions were noble, Hermione's persistence could be more of an annoyance than a comfort.

"You should probably go tell the Headmaster that Neville is here," Harry told Hermione a moment later, hoping she wouldn't realise that his motive was to distract her from Neville's presence. "I'll go keep him company for a while."

Hermione cast a worried look over her shoulder, considering her grief stricken friend. "Yeah, alright," she agreed hesitantly. "Do you think he's still in his office?"

"I don't know where else he'd be," Harry said, shrugging.

"Okay," said Hermione. "I'll be quick."

Harry nodded and shooed her off with a wave of his hand. He felt a certain loss of security as she left; as much as he knew it was necessary that she go, her presence provided a certain sense of reassurance in moments such as these, when he wasn't exactly sure what the best course of action was.

Because Harry knew that the first thing he must do before anything else was to go to Neville, he turned towards the Great Hall's doors and walked with even steps towards his destination. Neville did not look up as he approached, making Harry feel rather uncomfortable—if Neville would not even look at him, it seemed logical to conclude that neither would he respond to anything Harry might say.

Watching Neville intently for a reaction, Harry slowly sank into the seat across from him. The other boy's wide eyes remained fixed on the worn table, unseeing.

"Neville," Harry said gently, causing the other boy to lift his eyes. Harry smiled an encouraging, sympathetic smile, and nodded his gratitude for Neville's attention.

"Don't ask how I'm doing," Neville said hoarsely, bitterness etched into the lines of his face.

Harry shook his head. "I wasn't going to," he assured the other boy, glad that he had at least spoken.

"She exaggerates, you know," Neville muttered. "I have spoken—just not much."

"Who, your Grandmother?"

Neville nodded numbly, round face displaying a myriad of melancholy emotions, sullenness the most prominent.

Harry left the topic of Neville's Grandmother alone; he was sure that her overbearing nature had been of little solace to him. In fact, it was probably best that he was here now instead of with her. The company of family was not always a cure for sorrow. If anything, it could sometimes be a catalyst.

It struck Harry a moment later that Hermione had been correct; Neville had been able to hear what had been said in the Entrance Hall. He considered that Neville's Grandmother had been speaking very audibly when she'd arrived, but he was suddenly thankful that Hermione had stopped him from speaking when she had.

"It's hard, I know," Harry said a moment later, reaching forward and grasping a bunch of grapes. He separated the bunch from the rest of the vine, and, remaining casual, began to eat them in sequence. As much as he would have felt relieved to show some emotion, he knew it was better to hold the conversation with relatively little. He wasn't sure he could clearly focus on what he was saying if he became blinded by his feelings. "—losing someone, that is."

"Of course," Neville responded. Though the bitterness had not left his voice, Harry was heartened by the note of interest in it. "Anyone who expects different is a fool."

"There are a lot of fools in this world," Harry commented, eating another grape. "It's easy to feel alone when you're surrounded by people who don't understand."

"Yes," Neville agreed quietly, tempted by Harry's actions into taking a handful of grapes for himself. Both boys sat silently for a moment, working away at their small portions.

"But you know," Harry said a moment later, "no matter how alone you feel… you never truly are. That's the beauty of humanity, I guess. Everyone suffers… but I suppose it gives us all something in common."

Neville's circular eyes flickered up to Harry's face; he looked rather caught off guard. Harry shrugged, as if to say, Well, it's true. Neville slowly nodded his agreement and, with something changed in his expression, looked back down.

"It's just so unfair," Neville said at length. "He already robbed them of their sanity… why their lives, too?"

"You can't expect a logical explanation for why these things happen, Neville, they just do."

"But they weren't hurting anything!"

This outburst, accompanied by Neville's fists slamming into the table, caused Harry to jump slightly. He blinked several times, trying not to show any emotional upheaval at Neville's pain, though it was physically hurting him inside. Harry did not like to see people suffer: particularly his friends. However, he supposed that if he was to be of any help, he had to appear as though he was holding it together. One of them had to retain some sense of fortitude.

"I know," Harry said softly, reaching across the table and resting a hand on Neville's arm. Harry would have expected such a gesture to feel awkward and uncomfortable, but Neville's instantly consoled reaction made it seem like the right thing to do in such a situation. Harry tried not to develop a feeling of pride at this, but the thought crossed his mind that perhaps he didn't need Hermione for this as much as he had previously thought. "It's not rational, and it's certainly not justifiable, a death such as this—but all you can really do is just… focus that anger on defeating Voldemort, I suppose. That's what I did."

"Oh, they'll be avenged, that's sure enough," Neville seethed, eyes closed against the tears. It was an odd combination: his boyishly curved face which normally shone with effort and innocence had taken on an intense look of pain and righteous infuriation. Harry had rarely seen the boy worked into such a state.

Frowning, Harry opened his mouth to respond.

"Harry?"

Hermione's feminine voice floated over his shoulder, and he winced. Neville's hand twitched, and Harry realised he was still grasping the boy's wrist. Aware of the embarrassment working its way into Neville's expression, Harry jerked his hand away, and looked up at Hermione. The concerned look on her face told him that she had heard Neville's previous comment.

Her greeting had been a request—one to join the conversation, or simply to take a seat. She sensed the tension, and though she felt as though she was intruding on something, she also felt that her presence was necessary.

Harry nodded his assent, and she lowered herself into the spot on the bench beside him. She said nothing, but gazed sympathetically across the table at Neville, as Harry had done several minutes earlier. She looked to Harry with a troubled expression, and with his eyes, he nonverbally communicated to her that he understood her concern, and was doing what he could for their friend.

"Neville," Harry said carefully, turning back to his friend, "I can understand why you would want… revenge… but I'm… well, that wasn't what I meant when I said we should concentrate our efforts into defeating Voldemort."

"I know what you mean, Harry, and I'm not talking about Voldemort."

"What do you mean, then?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Didn't they tell you? It was them- the Lestranges, again- they took my parents. It wasn't enough to torture them to insanity! They had to see the task through!"

Hermione's wide-eyed expression told Harry that she hadn't been prepared to deal with this side of Neville. For once, she was the one who had no clue what to do. She turned to Harry with a pleading expression, that to him said, reason with him!

Harry was shocked that, for a moment, he considered telling Neville that his parents probably hadn't had a clue what had been going on, anyway… and then he realised that this was probably the exact sort of nonsense the boy's grandmother had been spewing for the past day. It was hardly a heartening notion.

"Vengeance isn't the answer, Neville, surely you can see that," Harry offered, knowing it was somewhat weak and unoriginal, but for the time being, unable to think of anything else that was more honest or to the point.

"And why not?" Neville asked, a sniffle escaping him. Despite all his anger, his underlying soft personality could not be erased. "Why shouldn't they pay for what they've done?"

"They should!" Harry exclaimed. "But not at the price of losing you too. Leave justice to those who have been trained for it."

"What, you think I'm not strong enough to handle it, huh?" Neville asked bitterly. "Think I'll choke, do you?"

"No, that's not it at all, Neville!" Hermione interjected, lifting her hand to reach for his, but thinking better of it at the last moment. "It's just…"

She looked to Harry to finish the statement, unsure how to do so, and he quickly picked up where she had left off. "There are better ways of dealing with your pain…" Harry said, hating that he sounded like an article to be published in Witch Weekly.

"Vengeance won't bring them back," Hermione interrupted, logic seeming to have returned to her.

Harry nodded, glad that she had been able to voice what he had been unable to find the words for.

"It's not that- it's the principle of it."

"The principle of it," Harry repeated. "The principle of it is that if you allow yourself to be so moved by their actions as to seek revenge- to destroy that part of yourself that you can never get back- then they've won something else. Vengeance turns otherwise good people into ruthless predators with little purpose other than to make a comeback. Is that what you want to do with your life?"

Moved far more by these words than anything that had been said thus far, Neville looked up and away again, staring hard at the ground off at his side.

"Neville—Neville—Harry's right, you know," Hermione said gently, this time allowing her boldness to get the best of her and reaching out to grasp Neville's hand, much like Harry had grasped his arm earlier. "We'd hate to lose you to their cause as well."

"I don't know…" Neville whispered quietly. What he did not know was unclear. "I just don't know about anything anymore."

"And that won't change for a while," Harry said. "It's never easy, Neville… but… you do what you can."

There seemed to be few words that could follow such a discussion. Neville chose not to respond, and Harry took this as a sign that his words were being taken in with at least a small measure of contemplation. He and Hermione deliberately avoided each other's gazes—it was an uncomfortable and yet settling silence which fell over the group, and neither were inclined to disturb it.

It was not long after that Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape emerged from the door directly behind the staff table at the front of the Hall. Both held their own characteristic looks of seriousness, McGonagall's face drawn into a tight, puckered expression, and Severus' pulled into a glare which Harry had since come to recognise as a look of deliberation.

"Longbottom," McGonagall said gently, coming behind him and resting a weathered hand on his shoulder. "You should come with me."

Hermione frowned and looked at Harry questioningly, who, in turn, shrugged and looked to Severus. The older man shook his head once, indicating that now was neither the time nor the place. His eyes drifted from his son's face to McGonagall and Neville's exiting forms, and, after a brief period, back to Harry.

"That was… well handled," Severus said in way of commendation, nodding to both Harry and Hermione.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione returned while Harry deliberated how to react.

Somehow, Harry was not shocked that Severus had listened in on the conversation. He had almost come to expect this sort of thing—even when the man had been simply his teacher, he had somehow managed to intrude on every conversation that held any importance. While part of Harry was glad that his father had witnessed it, Harry couldn't quite feel pride at having done what he felt necessary… he appreciated that he was being complimented on as much, but regretted having been placed in a situation where such a discussion was needed.

"This- all this disaster- it's just going to keep getting worse, isn't it?"

Again, Severus only responded with a silencing shake of the head. Discouraged by this reaction and further confounded when his father abruptly turned and headed for the doors, Harry wondered how Hermione could be so at ease as she placed a steadying arm on his shoulder. He slanted his eyes in her direction, and she tilted her head in the direction which Severus was walking towards.

Suddenly realising why Severus had been adamant that they refrain from conversation in so open an area, Harry gave a little nod to an Auror he'd seen only once in the Daily Prophet over the summer.

"That makes sense," he whispered to Hermione, who nodded her agreement.

"We should go," she whispered back, tugging slightly at his arm.

At once, both slid off the bench and, as they were unsure how it would appear if they disappeared out of the staff exit, headed towards the doors. Severus, seeing them coming his way, shifted out of the doorway, and continued to engage the Auror, who raised his eyebrows in Harry's direction as if he wanted to say something to him, in quiet conversation until they had passed.

"I'll have to remember to thank him for that later," Harry commented to Hermione as they reached the top of the stairs, infinitely grateful for Severus' subtle interference.

"Oh, yes," Hermione murmured, "I'd forgotten we were supposed to go visit him tonight."

"You had?" Harry asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"Well, I was thinking about Neville, you realise," Hermione came back defensively, rolling his eyes when he smiled and shook his head.

"You know, on the subject of vengeance… do you think perhaps it would benefit Neville to speak to Professor Snape?" Hermione offered, sounding tentative on the subject.

"I doubt it would be well received, given Neville's immense fear of him," Harry disagreed, grimacing. "I don't doubt, however, that Severus would have something of value to say to him, I do agree with you on that point."

"You just called him Severus," Hermione pointed out, reaching the top of yet another flight of stairs and turning to face him.

Harry stopped with each foot on a different step, frowning and mentally retracing his last contribution to the conversation. "I did, didn't I?"

Hermione nodded slowly, searching his face with her eyes which almost perpetually shone with worry. "Did something happen between you two? I thought you were calling him 'dad' now."

Harry's mouth opened slightly, and he suddenly realised that she knew nothing of what had occurred during Christmas vacation. At the same time, the comfort with which she spoke of his and his father's relationship gave him an instant understanding that she was someone he could trust with the information. His brows relaxed in consent, and he nodded.

"I think I've alot to explain to you," he said quietly, joining her where she stood.

Hermione looked like she wanted to question him right then and there, but instead, she settled for momentarily resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and giving him a weak smile before dropping her arm and continuing to lead the way to the Gryffindor common room.

xxx

Hermione did not speak for quite some time after Harry explained to her the events that had transpired over his holiday. She looked like she was wavering between disapproval and relief that things were working themselves out again, if not with a few difficulties. Her arms folded between her knees and her chest, she stared at the ground, eyes squinting in a thoughtful fashion that made Harry quite nervous for her response.

"Are you going to say something?" Harry asked tentatively.

Expression unchanging, Hermione slowly shook her head, and Harry let out an exhalation of frustration, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

"It's really not as bad as it sounds—"

"Harry," Hermione said shortly, though she still didn't look at him, "stop talking. I need to figure out how I feel about this."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw her eyes shift irritably in his direction, he snapped it shut again.

Just when Harry was beginning to wonder if Hermione remembered how to speak at all, her brisk voice cut though the silence. It was clear from her rather pointed tone of voice that she had been planning what to say for quite some time.

"First of all, I can't believe you actually said those things to him—"

"No, I did."

"Well, I meant- Harry! I meant I'm appalled that you did, not that I actually doubt you would. Honestly, you've never been one to exercise strong control over your temper."

"Neither is he."

"Obviously," Hermione retorted, shaking her head. "That's most likely where you get it from."

"Right," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. Honestly, he thought he was much more rational a person than his father, but he didn't say as much. "But do you think I made the right choice?"

"I'm not entirely sure there was a right choice to be made," Hermione admitted sceptically, lifting her eyebrows. "Really, you could have only made the choice you felt comfortable with. And you did, so… I suppose there's nothing to say about it. It's done with."

Harry nodded, about to respond when Hermione's voice resumed sharply.

"However, that doesn't mean that no one was at fault. And personally, I can't believe you would do something so stupid merely a week after all this happened!"

"It didn't seem so stupid at the time!" Harry objected. Part of him realised that this was hardly an adequate argument, but he felt it had to be made anyway.

Hermione shook her head, scowling at him with a fierce look of condemnation. "Harry," she said, lifting her eyebrows.

"Fine, fine, it was stupid," Harry conceded, slipping from his seat on the couch to the ground, and resting his back against the couch's arm.

"Thank you for at least admitting that," Hermione said, extending her legs to the other side of the couch so that she was lying down.

Harry looked up at her from where he sat on the ground, and thought that she didn't look so intimidating when she appeared to be relaxed.

"I am glad you told me, you know," Hermione offered after some time, a small proportion of harshness gone from her tone.

"Yeah, well, just don't spread it around."

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed scandalously, evoking a laugh from Harry.

"Anyways, I am still- I've still got to fix things," Harry said once his laughter had cleared, turning slightly to look at Hermione's face.

"Naturally," Hermione replied soberly. "But the Professor seems willing to let you, so that's something."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, tilting his head. "I told you, he's rather cross with me."

"Harry, what he said to you in the kitchen today—and the way he's treating you now. I should think it abundantly clear that he's willing to give you the chance to prove yourself. He's leaving it up to you."

"I think he's just biding time until my punishment," Harry grumbled, shaking his head.

Hermione laughed. "Could be. But the point is that you've got the chance- take advantage of that."

"Yeah," Harry breathed, because it was easier to agree than to disagree. He didn't mention that he had no idea how to do what he was agreeing to.

xxx

Exhilaration was a feeling that Harry had neither felt nor longed for in quite some time. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to suffer from that superficial fear and adrenaline rush that resulted from running around the castle after curfew, tucked safely under an invisibility cloak with the Marauder's map in hand.

Since Harry knew he would not be in trouble if Severus caught him, since, after all, Severus had been the one who asked him to see him that night, the main concern to be faced was the Aurors. In his earlier years, he had felt much more protected by the invisibility cloak. Now, however, he knew that there were Aurors patrolling the castle who would catch him and think it suspicious activity if they were not familiar with him as a person. That was the last thing he needed.

So, with stealth, Harry and Hermione crept down the maze of stairs all the way from the Gryffindor common room down to the dungeons. They were silent as they went, communicating only by pointing to important figures on the map headed their way.

Due to the many detours they were forced into taking in order to avoid the Aurors, it took them a great deal of time to finally reach Severus' rooms. Harry found himself regretting not having found Tonks or Lupin—surely one of them would have escorted them down to his rooms. He felt uncomfortable inquiring such a thing of anyone he did not know.

Harry was rather shocked when he reached out from underneath the invisibility cloak to knock and the door flew open before his knuckles could make contact with the wood. Before he could register what was happening, Severus was in front of him, angrily yanking the invisibility cloak off their heads and pulling Harry in by the front of his shirt, and indicating with a jerky movement of his hand for Hermione to follow.

"Idiots," he complained as he released Harry and shut the door behind them. "Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you would have been in had you been caught out after curfew by one of the Aurors?"

"But the term hasn't even started yet!" Harry argued, receiving an annoyed glance from Hermione, who was remaining quiet.

"If the rules still apply to the students who stay here for the Holidays, than certainly you can't think yourself exempt? Really, Harry, I thought you had been cured of that arrogance."

Harry visibly recoiled, and Hermione looked rather taken aback that Severus was speaking to him this way, only adding to Harry's embarrassment. The boy looked away and muttered a quiet apology, surprising both other parties in the room when he did not argue further.

While normally Severus would have realised how cold he had sounded and would have softened his expression to tell Harry that he hadn't really meant what he'd said, he decided that this was not the course of action to take now. Admittedly, his words had been born of true irritation, but once he heard them and instantly regretted speaking them, he remembered that he wished Harry to continue believing Severus was angry with him.

"You should have come earlier," Severus said gruffly, still glaring reproachfully at the pair.

"We thought you would be occupied," Hermione offered, since Harry looked hesitant about speaking again.

"The logical course of action, then," sneered Severus, "would have been to contact me on the matter, would it not have?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered immediately, earning a curt nod from the Potions Master.

"Harry?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, irritated by his father, his eager to please friend, and the colour that was rising in his face due to mild mortification and temper.

"Very well, then," Severus said, his expression unchanging. "And, regrettably, I feel a duty to take fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Regrettably?" Harry repeated dubiously.

"Yes, you know how it pains me. Have a seat."

It was not the warmest welcome Harry could have hoped for, but the fact that the man was dropping the subject so soon was good enough for him. He nodded and went to sit on the couch, where Hermione joined him.

"You wanted to know why we are now taking new precautions, as opposed to earlier in the year," Severus began immediately, seating himself in his black leather armchair.

Hermione nodded vigorously, and Harry looked up interestedly.

"It is…a valid question," Severus admitted, his harsh demeanour beginning to melt. The swiftness of his change in bearing should have been an indication of the superficiality of his prior anger; however, Harry did not think of it.

"The problem at hand should be obvious," Severus continued, pondering his hands as he did so. "As I told you earlier today, the Dark Lord now has all he needs to brew the Asterisus. You can guess what issue this creates for us."

"He'll be choosing a prodigy," Hermione answered instantly, just as Harry had opened his mouth to say the same.

"Yes," Severus responded. "And we must be prepared for the fact that, most likely, he will choose someone in close proximity to Harry."

"He's not stupid enough to try something at Hogwarts, is he?" asked Harry.

"It's not a matter of prudence so much as an act of desperation about which we are worried. Attacking you at Hogwarts, where so many would come to your aid- not least of all Albus Dumbledore himself- would certainly be a poor move compared to alternatives... but at this point, there are very few of those alternatives available. How many times as the Dark Lord attempted to remove you from this castle, only to see you escape? The logical next move is to chase you to the place to which you keep running."

"Very encouraging," said Harry darkly.

"I told you—I won't attempt to make things sound more pleasant than they are. You don't need to be spared the truth. That's the worst possible thing anyone could do for you. Tell me you realise this."

Harry was quickly realising he liked Severus much better when the two of them were alone. He could take the ridicule far more lightly when there was no one there to witness it.

"Yes," Harry replied grudgingly, widening his eyes in annoyance and looking away from his father. Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry's tone, but said nothing about it. Still, the look on his face and lack of comment were enough of a message to Harry, who relaxed his expression a bit in order to please Severus, despite his continually rising agitation.

"Have you any ideas who it will be?" Hermione asked, apparently unaware of the nonverbal exchange going on between Severus and Harry.

Taking his eyes off his son, he nodded. "You should both be prepared for the fact that it very well may be Draco Malfoy."

"Why him?" Harry asked immediately, head turning sharply.

"He'll seem the best candidate to Voldemort," Severus answered. "Consider, he is very much like Riddle was in his school days—he is a prefect, well liked by his housemates, earns high marks in all of his classes. The Dark Lord will consider this a telling factor."

"But you've heard Malfoy; he doesn't want to work for Voldemort!"

"Once the Dark Lord singles one out for servitude, there's hardly any escaping it," Severus stated grimly, bitterness heavy in his inflection. "Especially when you consider who Mr. Malfoy's parents are. If he is asked and does not comply, he'll be safe from no one."

"He could come to Dumbledore."

"Ah, but he's also expressed his sentiments on that issue as well, hasn't he now?" Severus pointed out, lifting his eyebrows. "The Dark Lord will offer Mr. Malfoy power- he will consider it differently from how his father and others do. He will not realise that, in all likelihood, Voldemort's intention is to give someone strength enough to defeat you without putting himself at risk, and once that is done, he will discard whatever idiot allowed himself to be swept into his service."

"But, what are we supposed to do, then?"

"Be wary of his intentions, and speak to him as soon as possible about his contribution to the Potion. Someone will need to obtain Voldemort's flesh, and give us his blood… Little as I like to trust him, he is currently the only one in a position to do these things. I certainly cannot, as I had once planned to. Nor can I get myself killed in the process, because you need me to complete the potion as well."

"Is that the only thing stopping you, then?"

"Of course not, I'm no Gryffindor."

Harry scoffed at this, shaking his head. "So you say."

Severus grunted at that, and rose from his seat. "I believe that answers your questions, then," he said.

"Well—"

"Harry, classes resume the day after tomorrow. You should take tonight to readjust to the schedule of going to bed and waking up early. So, unless it's incredibly important…"

"Fine, fine," Harry conceded, also rising from his seat.

Hermione, who had been rather quiet for a while, thanked the Professor for answering their questions and headed to the door to wait for Harry, who still stood in front of Severus.

"I'll need my cloak back," Harry reminded him, pointing to the table behind him.

"No, I don't think you will," Severus responded, not bothering to explain that he was planning to write the boy a pass back to his Common Room and that to be caught in the halls carrying an invisibility cloak would draw unwanted attention.

"What?" Harry asked, eyebrows shooting up into the fringe of his hair.

"There," Severus said, ignoring Harry's outburst and handing him a slip of parchment explaining the reason for Harry and Hermione's presence in the hallways at this hour of night.

"But what about my cloak?"

"It will be returned, don't have kittens," Severus intoned almost mockingly, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and steering him towards the door. It amused him that Harry would take him so seriously, even when he wasn't, in truth, being serious at all.

"But I want it!"

"I told you would have it back, what more do you want?"

"Preferably? I'd like to have it back now."

"Pity," Severus said, opening the door and giving Harry a light push into the hallway. "On your way, then."

"Not until you give me my cloak."

"Harry, I believe you will be rather cross with me—and more than mildly embarrassed—if I am forced to levitate you through these hallways up to your common room."

"But—"

"Leave."

"No, but—"

The door slammed, leaving Harry and Hermione to stand in the dark hallway. With a frustrated groan, Harry illuminated the corridor with his wand, and turned to look at Hermione.

He was displeased to find that she was stifling her laughter, and snapped irritably, "And what do you find so funny about this?"

"Really, Harry, that was quite amusing," she admitted, allowing herself a light chuckle, but restraining the majority of her humour. "I'm sure he'll give it back to you in the morning."

"Yeah, well… he'd better."

And that was all Harry had to say on the matter.

xxx End Chapter 40 xxx

Chapter 41

Teacher, Teacher

xxx

There were days when Severus Snape truly hated his job. Once in awhile, when he stopped lecturing and had no reason to stalk around the room, peering critically into students' cauldrons, he had to sit back and ask himself why he bothered teaching at all.

If only the answer hadn't been so simple. It was Albus Dumbledore.

As much as he could privately admire the man for his power and feel a sense of gratitude towards him for helping him along the path of redemption, the one truly lamentable thing he could say the man had done to him was to force him to teach children who, despite all his efforts and all the benefits of education, simply would not be taught.

Severus did not think it was asking too much of students to give them a chapter of reading and, because he had no practical lesson to go along with it and did not feel the need to waste his time lecturing on such a simple topic, tell them to use their time in class to get the chapter read and get prepared for the test they would have on the topic the coming day. Really, reading was not a difficult task. It should not have inspired the small, blonde, first year Hufflepuff student in the front row to burst into tears halfway through class. Nor should it have provoked the furtive glances that Jacob Hurst and Melanie Crovitch were sending him between each note that they exchanged.

Nor should it have led to the subtraction of approximately 35 points from Gryffindor's House Point total. That, however, was one by-product which Severus did not mourn.

Yes, there were days when Severus Snape truly hated his job.

It was not with delight, therefore, that Severus greeted his sixth year class when they filed in at the bell that afternoon. If there was any happiness in Severus about the fact that he would now be attending to the N.E.W.T. level students, it was only because he knew that they could handle his ire with far more resilience than the mere first years could, and he would not have to work so hard to control his temper. This, for some reason, seemed a comforting fact.

Severus' face, half cloaked by shadow, had a foreboding quality about it as he sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair and watching the class file in. His posture was contemplative; his eyes narrowed to slits, only revealing the glittering black of his irises.

Watchful of their Professor, the students silently moved to their seats. Some looked fearful of his intentions, while some (mainly his Slytherins) looked rather anticipatory of what would potentially be an entertaining class for them to watch. Still others stared at him with defiance: forced expressions of bravery, as if they were about to fight a battle of some sort.

Though, for some, Severus mused, Potions class was a battle.

"Class," Severus intoned from his seat in way of acknowledgement, pleased when the subdued tone of his voice caused several heads to snap to attention. He smirked; it was indeed a great skill to command a class with so little effort.

"I believe you have essays to turn in," Severus reminded them a moment later, scanning the room for the guilty faces of forgetful students who had neglected their work. He was neither appreciative nor disappointed when there was a flurry of movement as the students moved quickly to gather their homework assignments. "Set them on my desk," he directed in the same smooth, level voice.

In a disorganised but not altogether chaotic fashion, the essays were placed on the Potion Master's desk; Severus sat and watched appraisingly as each student approached him, deposited his or her work, and then hurried away again.

"I trust these are as abysmal as ever," Severus said dispassionately to the class, standing up and sifting through the mass of parchments, straightening them deftly. "I suppose I could compliment you on your consistency, but so rarely do you appreciate the things I say." He shuffled the papers one last time and placed them in a neat pile at the other edge of his desk, and as he finished, commanded, "Pull out your books and turn to page four hundred and thirty-two."

Severus came around to the front of his desk, his stance almost casual as he leaned against it, creating a marked unease in the students before him. His gaze passed over the class, including his son, who was, much to Severus' satisfaction, carefully controlling his expression and turning to the page which Severus had dictated.

Taking his focus off of Harry, he addressed the class. "I believe you will all be pleased to know," he started, provoking an instantaneous response of confused whispers and perplexed expressions, before he growled, "Quiet… I believe you will all be pleased to know that I have decided to forego the objective test on the material I asked you to read over the holidays."

While the other students murmured to each other, Severus took advantage of their distraction to glance again at his son. He was gratified by the suspicious look on the boy's face; it meant that he was finally thinking about motives rather than simply actions.

"You will, however, have an essay portion," Severus announced after the excitement had quieted down. At the horrified looks on their faces, Severus smirked and continued, "and that will take place today."

"But sir!" Malfoy instantly objected, his protestation amplified in sharp contrast with the dead silence that had fallen due to all of the dumbstruck mouths which hung open instead of chattering. "We've not had any notice!"

"You were told a week before the holiday started that these three chapters were to be read by the time that you returned," Severus replied coolly, mockingly amused expression giving way to the sternness which most often characterized his features. "I do believe that's all the notice you should require, as sixth year N.E.W.T. students. If you haven't learned by now to complete your assignments by the date specified, then I must ask you to re-evaluate your decision to pursue the higher level courses. I would be more than willing to transfer any one of you to Muggle Studies, if you feel that I am demanding too much of you. I'm sure there will be some room for you there. Interested, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy's mouth opened to respond, but he, chastened and slightly embarrassed by the fact, seemed to choke on his words. Grudgingly, he surrendered whatever battle he'd thought he'd been about to fight with the Potions Master, and sat back in his chair, muttering a resentful, "No, sir."

A curt nod signified Severus' satisfaction, and he said nothing further to Malfoy. "You'll have ten minutes to review whatever you believe to be pertinent in the reading."

Severus circled his desk and settled once again into his chair. "You're already on the clock, by the way," he smoothly stated a moment later. "I suggest you stop gawking at me and take advantage of this opportunity."

Noting that Harry was among the few who were already skimming the pages and doing so with an expression that was, though mildly distressed, hinting at the boy's confidence in his abilities to do well, Severus was glad to realise that though he had given the boy any reminders, he'd completed the task assigned. He suspected the bushy haired girl sitting next to him had something to do with this, but he was nevertheless appeased.

No guilt arose within Severus as he passed the tests out ten minutes later. He met students' pleading eyes with a vindictive smile, viewing their displeasure as a sign that justice had been served to the miscreants who had so arrogantly ignored his instructions.

"You have the remainder of the period," Severus announced as he extended the last test to his son, giving the boy a meaningful look and receiving a befuddled one in return. It seemed he understood that the man was expressing approval, but at what he could not comprehend. Because he did not want to appear to be focusing any extra attention on Harry, he spent no more time standing in front of the boy and returned to his desk.

"Begin."

xxx

"I have to say, I'm a bit surprised at how many people didn't complete the reading," Hermione told Harry as they made their way up from the dungeons, destined for the Great Hall, where Ron had promised to meet them.

"I never would have done it if you hadn't told me to," Harry admitted in response, shrugging. "Honestly, it was a bit much to assign three chapters to be read over break, and especially to expect us to remember enough of it in order to complete an essay test to his level of satisfaction."

"But he did have a fair point, did he not, that we chose to take such a difficult class?"

"I'm not trying to complain," Harry responded with a touch of defensiveness. "And given his mood when we walked in, I wasn't expecting an easy period."

"He didn't seem especially tetchy," Hermione commented thoughtfully. "I mean, not more than usual… at least, he wasn't as insulting as we all know he can be."

"I don't know; like I said, I just had an idea as soon as we came through the door. It was the way he watched us, I think."

Hermione shrugged at this and waved to Ron as they approached the doors. He smiled when he saw them and quickened his pace to reach the entrance.

"How was Potions?" Ron questioned unnecessarily as he met them, both of whom wore harrowed expressions due to the mental exercise they'd received only a few moments before.

"It was Potions, Ron," Harry reminded him dryly.

"Had a rough time of it, then?"

"An impromptu test."

"An impromptu essay test," Hermione added.

"Oye," Ron breathed, eyes wide.

Harry laughed and nodded. "Nothing like Potions class to abruptly remind you that school is back in session."

"Oh, it wasn't all that bad," Hermione argued good-naturedly, shaking her head at the two of them.

"Just like the O.W.L.s, right Hermione?" Ron quipped, receiving a playful slap on the arm.

"Not quite like that, no," she responded.

"Do you think we have time to stop off at the Common Room before we go to our next class?" Harry asked indecisively, seemingly weighing the options in his head.

"She doesn't really care if we're late anyway."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "What sort of an attitude is that?"

"The sort that normal students without such anal-retentive tendencies have," he muttered, looking at Harry and rolling his eyes.

Hermione let out a frustrated groan and readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Fine," she snapped. "You two go and get whatever you need, and I'll meet you in class."

"Hermione—" Harry started in pacifying tones, only to be interrupted.

"No, Harry, it's fine," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Really, I'll catch up with you later."

Before anyone could convince her to do otherwise, she took a quick left and headed in the opposite direction of the common room.

"Unpredictable, that one," Ron commented in a breath, shaking his head and continuing with Harry down the hallway. "Downright strange."

"Yeah, she's been a bit moody the past several days, actually," Harry agreed. Ron gave him an odd look, and Harry shrugged. "What?"

"Why, have you really spent the past couple days with her?"

"Well… I mean… no one was here yesterday, and you hadn't arrived yet… and the day before she arrived at my house early in the morning so it was a bit unavoidable—"

"I'm not asking you to make excuses. It's just a bit out of the ordinary. Normally, she would spend her time at the library, and you…"

"Yes?"

"Well, normally you spend quite a bit of time with Sn—your—erm—that father figure of yours."

Harry gave Ron a humorous look. "You could just call him the Professor, Ron."

"There's the word I was looking for!" Ron exclaimed, laughing at his own lack of verbosity.

"Well done, Ron," Harry quipped, clapping his hands together in mock applause.

"Yeah, yeah. But anyway… is something going on?"

"Did you forget the other night?"

"Oh."

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"Is he still angry at you?"

"Well…no. I mean, he wasn't really angry to begin with… just… annoyed? I guess that's it: annoyed."

"Ah," Ron responded, nodding. "My Mum gets like that, too. Don't worry, it'll pass. Maybe it will do you some good to go to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

For some reason, Harry was suddenly grateful that it was Ron at his side. The fact that he was comparing Harry's own mildly dysfunctional relationship with his father with the relatively normal relationship between Mrs. Weasley and him had a stabilizing effect, for some reason unknown.

"Actually, I don't think I'm going to go next weekend," said Harry. "I didn't spend all of yesterday avoiding him because I'm scared of what he'll say to me or anything… but he told me I should figure out a way to make it right, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Make it right?"

"Yeah. Ambiguous, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," Ron admitted.

"I'm not sure I do either."

xxx

Severus had been glaring silently at Blaise Zabini for a full three minutes now, and still could not formulate the words to sum up his utter fury with the boy. Perhaps his anger would have abated somewhat if it were not for the boy's cheeky, nonchalant attitude; more annoying than Zabini's blatant disregard for the importance of this subject was his bold display of defiance towards Severus. It was bothersome to realise that all his years of openly showing his Slytherins favour, he had helped them to cultivate attitudes of complete indifference and superciliousness and abominable senses of work ethic.

Severus was not a man who ignored the art of logic. No, he had reasons for why he had—and continued to—indulge his Slytherins. Firstly was the fact that he had long been expected to treat the children of his former 'comrades' with far less harshness than he treated many of his other students with. Secondly, Severus had always thought that if there was one house that was looked down upon by a majority of the teachers, it was his own. Both from his personal experiences at Hogwarts and from the conversations he had been privy to in the staff room, he knew that Slytherins were generally viewed as untrustworthy, prideful, and disinclined to earn what they could easily cheat their way to getting. While true for some, it was perturbing to realize that this stereotype was instantly expected of any member of the house.

The problem now was that while Severus did not wish to adopt crueller policies on how to handle his Slytherin students, he knew that once the war was over, assuming he survived, he would need to find some middle ground between indulgence and severity.

"Mr. Zabini." Severus' voice was a deep rumble, the darkness of it congruent with the foreboding expression on his face. The boy's dark head snapped to attention; his obstinate expression of suppressed temerity remained, but he kept reverently silent, waiting for Severus to speak. "Explain this to me," he demanded curtly, holding up Zabini's blank test and giving each end a sharp tug, eliciting an audible snap.

To Severus' displeasure, Zabini shrugged noncommittally and drawled, "I didn't have time to complete the readings over the holiday, and you gave us only ten minutes to prepare. Why waste my time attempting a test I had no chance of scoring well on?"

"Waste your time?" Severus slowly repeated, lifting his eyebrows in disbelief that he'd just been witness to such an audacious utterance. He paused, leaning back in his chair in a way that would have seemed calm and contemplative, if not for the glint in his eye that a clairvoyant student would have recognized as a dangerous warning sign. "Is that what you think of my class?"

"Not the class, sir, the assignment," Zabini explained as if this amendment made his previous statement more acceptable.

"Ah," said Severus, this concise sound signalling the beginning of what would be the proverbial calm before the storm. He lifted his eyebrows and set the parchment on his desk, smoothing it down, before asking icily, "Do you consider me a frivolous person, Zabini?"

Narrowing his eyes, Zabini carefully responded, "No."

"Why, then, do you assume I would give frivolous assignments?"

Apparently seeing where this was going, Zabini quickly began to back-peddle. "I didn't say the assignment was frivolous, so to speak—"

"You called it a waste of your time, did you not?" Severus quickly snapped at him, voice raised significantly and shocking Zabini a bit.

"Well, what I meant was—"

"What you meant was that you consider yourself above the assignment that I gave! Are you an authority on Potions, Mr. Zabini?"

"I'm adept in the subject."

Severus glared, and rose quickly from his seat, waving Zabini's blank test around in front of his face. "Then why, pray tell, did you leave the test blank?"

"Fine, I'm not an authority on Potions, happy?"

"Don't get cheeky with me, Zabini," Severus growled, stepping around his desk and coming dangerously close to his student. "So, if you are not an authority on Potions, then how can you deem any assignment a waste of your time? How can you decipher between the essential and the inessential if you barely have a base knowledge of the subject? How can you make those judgment calls if you make such foolish mistakes as to blatantly disregard my instructions, knowing full well what my response would be when I learned of it?"

"I suppose I can't—"

"You suppose?" hissed the Potions Master.

Zabini's mouth snapped shut, and he glared at the man in front of him. He had no response to this, as Severus had expected.

"Say it, Zabini," Severus commanded, straightening and staring hard down his nose at the boy.

"My apologies, Professor," Zabini said through clenched teeth.

"You'll stay here until I'm satisfied with your response," Severus told him stonily, shaking his head. "There are times when any person must sacrifice his foolish pride; you will do well to learn that."

"I was taught that pride is one of the most important components of one's persona," Zabini said stiffly, lifting his chin.

"What a foolish teacher you had," Severus returned scathingly, returning to his seat. He sat down with an angry flourish of his robes, and levelled Zabini with a fixed stare of intimidation. "And here I thought you were a Slytherin."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Slytherins are supposed to be blessed with the gift of cunning; clearly, you have not learned such a skill yet. You must learn to recognize when you have lost your battle. You must learn when to submit to authority. These are the necessary skills of survival—ones you do not possess."

Zabini looked disconcerted by Severus' critical ascertainment, but finally seemed to recognize the value of remaining silent. His eyes narrowed stubbornly, but he said no more.

"At least something is finally working its way through your thick skull."

Zabini met his eyes then, his own narrowing even further. Severus could tell that he desired to challenge the man's authority in the spirit of pride, but that what little sense of strategy he possessed kept him from doing so.

"Much as I appreciate your lack of verbiage," said Severus as his previous indignation began to give way to satisfaction at Zabini's surrender of control, "I am still waiting for your response."

Zabini's form tensed, and his controlled fury was entirely evident in his expression. He lacked subtlety, Severus thought. However, his response demonstrated a certain amount of intelligence. "It won't happen again… sir."

Severus' lips curled into a victorious smirk, and he nodded almost as if to praise his student. "Very well," he said, gazing at Zabini with a knowing look. "Now, get out of my sight before you bring further trouble upon yourself."

Zabini looked annoyed by this rather snide dismissal, but rose from his seat and quickly excused himself nevertheless. Severus watched him exit through the door, and then exhaled in frustration, settling back into his chair again. His triumphant and amused expression faded into one of pensive thought, and he shook his head, unconscious of the action.

Children really were stupid, and the thought grew more and more depressing as he realised there were few exceptions to the rule.

xxx

Minerva McGonagall had a nasty habit of showing up whenever Severus least wanted to see her, and disappearing whenever he found himself desiring a word with her. This was the thought that ran through his mind as he stood at the door of her empty office, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Because he had run into two second years whom he knew to be the worst team of trouble-makers in their year, he (out of a desire only to ruin the students' fun, and out of no obligatory courtesy towards his colleague—or so he told himself) closed the office door that she had, much to his exasperation, carelessly left open.

Aside from the Gryffindor Common Room, which Severus had absolutely no desire to visit, there were few places that seemed as likely for McGonagall to have travelled to as Dumbledore's office. He had been told earlier in the day that Lupin would be arriving to begin his Auror duty and suspected that McGonagall had gone up to greet him.

Deciding that he had enough time to do so, Severus sighed resignedly and headed in the direction of Dumbledore's office. He didn't especially relish the idea of seeing Lupin again, no matter how tolerable the man had been during their last encounter, but he supposed it was necessary, since his schedule for the rest of the day would be too busy to track down the tartan-robed Witch.

With his long strides and quick pace, Severus reached Dumbledore's office in record time. He found himself hoping against hope that McGonagall would be here; it was a wish that he seldom had. Still, knowing what inane conversation he would be subjected to once in the presence of the Headmaster, he hoped that he would not have to endure it for nothing.

Dumbledore's door was open when Severus arrived, and he began to wonder why this seemed to be such a trend among the Professors today. He stood in the doorway and tapped on the smooth wood, announcing his presence to those within. Dumbledore leaned slightly to look past Lupin, who stood directly in front of him, and waved him in with a smile.

Severus was displeased when he did not spot McGonagall within, but he stepped further into the office nevertheless.

"Severus, what can I do for you?"

Deadpanned, Severus replied, "I've come to hand in my resignation."

"Was your last class really all that bad?" asked Albus with a chuckle, agitating Severus with his highly entertained expression.

"They've been awful all day, Albus, I can't understand why."

"It's rather simple," Dumbledore replied. "You know as well as I that they're just excited after their holiday—they always are."

"Yes, unfortunately," Severus agreed, nodding and coming to stand next to Lupin, whom he did not acknowledge except with a glance. "Though one would think that they'd be depressed by the thought of returning to school."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Lupin said genially, earning a glare from Severus for entering the conversation. "I was always happy to return to school after the holidays as well: to exchange stories, start fresh."

"Of course you were, Lupin, you had friends," said Severus snidely. His tone, however, was closer to that of disconsolation than pure spite. He realised his slip quickly, however, and neutralized his expression, adding, "Obnoxious ones, at that. But I did not come here to discuss your former cohorts. Albus, have you seen Minerva?"

"She's just left," Dumbledore told him, tastefully ignoring what Severus had said and hiding any sympathy he likely felt. "She should be returning any moment, however. She's fetching a collection of files from Filch. Would you care to wait for her, or shall I pass along a message for you?"

"I suppose I will wait," said Severus, thinking it would be better to endure this than to go searching through various corridors for McGonagall.

"If it suits you," Dumbledore said, grinning in a way that made Severus hope that McGonagall would return very soon. "Won't you take a seat?"

"I'll stand."

"Oh, don't be so dour," chided Dumbledore, conjuring a chair and gesturing for Severus to seat himself.

Exhaling agitatedly, Severus complied. "Why thank you, Headmaster, you're so accommodating," he muttered flatly, causing Lupin to snort and the Headmaster to give him an indulgent smile. Severus rolled his eyes.

Severus refused to be drawn into conversation with Lupin and Dumbledore while he waited for McGonagall to return. When she finally did, he instantly rose, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"Severus," she said warily, waving the box of files she'd been levitating to sit on Dumbledore's desk. "May I assume you were waiting for me?"

"Yes," Severus replied stiffly, stepping further away from his seat and towards her. "I merely wanted to ask you a favour."

"I'd like to say you may ask me anything, but considering whom I am speaking to, I suppose that would be unwise," said McGonagall dryly, moving her spectacles down her nose so that she could look over them at her peer.

Severus gave her a look which said clearly that he did not find her comments amusing in the slightest.

"Fine, fine, ask your favour," McGonagall said when she saw that Severus was not going to elaborate until she had asked him to.

"Your graciousness is astounding," Severus remarked. He then lowered his voice so that neither Dumbledore nor Lupin could hear what was being said, and continued, "I was wondering if you would help me to punish a student, ironically."

"You're asking for my assistance in such a task?" McGonagall asked in astonishment lifting her eyebrows. "I was under the impression that you had mastered that particular aspect of teaching."

"It's Zabini."

"Ah."

"Talkative today, aren't we?"

"It would serve you well to remember that you are asking a favour of me, Severus," McGonagall reminded him. "You should really be more polite."

"I was counting on your Gryffindor nobility," Severus informed her. "Polite or not, I need your help, and you and yours have an inherent hero complex."

"What a ghastly assumption to make," said McGonagall, though her lips were slowly beginning to curve upward.

Severus' expression was unapologetic. "Will you fulfill my request, then?"

"You've yet to make your request clear."

"Find a reason to give him detention within the next week, and perhaps take points," Severus suggested, folding his arms. "I would relish in doing so myself, but my position limits me from such action."

"Your position as Head of House?" asked McGonagall. "I suppose I am confused as to why, now that you are no longer spying, you cannot do this yourself."

"I must still favour my House, Professor, and I am surprised you do not understand the necessity."

"Clarify, then, Severus," she commanded.

"Very well," Severus agreed. Noticing the sudden quietness of Dumbledore and Lupin, he steered her further towards the door. "The children in my house at this time are facing very difficult decisions; they are receiving pressure from their parents and from their peers to join the Dark Lord's cause. There are some who, I believe, will come to me in time, seeking help… but only if they continue to believe that they may place their trust in me. They will never do so if they feel that whatever favour I have bestowed on them these past seven years has been pretence."

"And so you cannot even punish them?" McGonagall clarified, clearly appalled at the prospect. "How can you possibly control them, in such a case?"

"I cannot punish them for what they will surely see as a triviality," Severus informed her. "Trust me to understand the mind of a Slytherin, above all else. Zabini is looked up to with respect in his house, and he knows what power he holds because of that. From a strategic point of view, punishing him would be foolish on my part."

"And how will he learn by my punishing him?"

"I care little what lesson he takes away from it, Minerva," Severus admitted, annoyed at having to explain himself. "I merely wish to see him penalized for his misdeeds, however roundabout the method."

"This is completely unethical, Severus."

"Oh, who really gives a damn about ethics?" challenged Severus, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the door. "Even your beloved Headmaster uses manipulation to gain his ends."

McGonagall's eyes lit up with indignation, and she exclaimed in a hushed voice, "How dare you say such a thing?"

"It's not a matter of daring, Minerva. If it were, it is doubtful I would say it with the Headmaster merely twenty metres away, for as well known as my candour is, I am hardly a reckless soul. Dumbledore knows well my opinions of the actions he has taken, and he accepts them; therefore, you may do the same. Now, will you do me this morally questionable and possibly reprehensible favour, or will I have to consult a more cooperative member of the staff?"

After taking a long pause to consider it, McGonagall grudgingly replied, "I will."

"Please, Minerva, your zeal is overwhelming me," Severus said sardonically. "Purely your agreement is satisfactory—enthusiasm is unnecessary."

McGonagall's lips thinned, and Severus allowed himself a satisfactory smirk at her expense. When she finally relaxed her expression and shook her head in an oddly agreeable way, Severus gave her an appreciative nod and began to move from the room. He had not gone far, however, when Dumbledore's voice followed and beckoned him.

"Ah, Severus?"

Stopping just before the staircase, Severus' eyes lifted towards the ceiling, and he slowly turned around and long-sufferingly dragged himself back into Dumbledore's office.

"Yes?" he asked despairingly.

"If you are free to do so," Dumbledore began; he did not pause to wait for Severus' answer, "would you mind terribly fetching Harry for me?"

"Did you hire me only to send me on these insipid errands, Albus?"

Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him, and pondering his hands, inquired, "Will you believe any different if I object?"

"Doubtful."

"Then there is little point in doing so," Dumbledore concluded, unclasping his hands. "Yes, Severus, I hired you with the sole intent of sending you on meaningless quests that could easily be completed by any fifth year. Your excess qualifications matter very little to me. Now, go, and fulfill your purpose."

Because any attempts at argument would certainly have proved futile, Severus settled for a harsh glare and something akin to a growl before he left the room for the second time. It was not that he did not wish to see his son; the point of it was more that he was being sent to do so, undoubtedly so that Lupin could converse with the boy. He and Lupin were, for Harry's sake of course, on more agreeable terms, but if that man wanted to continue some sort of friendship with Harry, Severus saw no reason why he should need to foster it.

As predictable as Harry normally was, one thing Severus had not yet learned to predict was Harry's location in the castle. On the average day, the boy moved around at random, normally following his friends wherever they chose to go. If he knew anything about any of their inclinations, however, he could confidently guess that Miss Hermione Granger was in the library.

It was not surprising to find the girl tucked back in one of the farthest corners of the quiet room with her thick curls haphazardly wound up around a spare quill and books spread out across the table. A quick glance told Severus she was making use of the texts in order to complete her Ancient Runes assignment, as the professor having given a rather lengthy assignment that morning.

"Miss Granger," Severus intoned, lifting an eyebrow when Hermione gave a noticeable start and placed a hand over her chest.

"You frightened me," she gasped accusingly.

"I noticed," Severus stated dryly.

"Yes, well," said Hermione, closing the book nearest to her and stacking it atop a nearby pile of apparently unused books. "Might I ask why you're here?"

"You may," replied Severus. "I will even answer, since I am feeling generous today."

"I didn't gain that impression from Potions this morning," Hermione retorted, a smile playing around her lips.

"Hold your tongue," Severus warned her, though he wasn't truly offended by her comment.

"Of course, sir," Hermione agreed, muting her expression.

Severus gave her an approving nod and, unwilling to waste more time, asked, "Have you spoken with Harry in the past hour?"

"I saw him in the Great Hall earlier, but I think he mentioned something about heading up to the common room for the period," Hermione told him promptly, dutifully refraining from asking why.

Severus' eyes narrowed at this, a clear sign of his annoyance. He shook his head to himself and weighed his options. He could return to Dumbledore and simply tell the man that he did not know where Harry was, but he doubted this would turn out well. Short of causing a sudden flutter of panic in all three adults currently gathered on the second landing, the older man would soon find out Severus had lied, and Severus wasn't fond of lectures, no matter how many of them he gave throughout the day. His other option was to go to Gryffindor tower, which seemed equally unappealing.

"Sir?"

Ah, there was his answer. It was sitting right in front of him, literally.

"Miss Granger, would you be so good as to relay a message to Harry?"

"Of course," Hermione responded, though she sounded confused.

"The Headmaster needs to see him in his office—and you should tell him he's not being summoned for disciplinary purposes, since the thought will undoubtedly cross his mind."

"Yes, I'll go tell him right away," Hermione said hurriedly, gathering up her books and supplies.

"Helpful, just as your Head of House," Severus quipped, though he realised a moment later that only he understood why this was amusing as Hermione stared at him blankly.

"What?"

Severus shook his head and said, "It is of little consequence. Go quickly, before classes resume."

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied, lifting her bag over her shoulder and moving out from behind the table. "I'll go now."

Severus nodded to her and watched her disappear quickly from the library. Confident that she would complete the task she'd been assigned, he followed soon after, intent on finishing the rest of the period in the isolated solace of his office.

xxx

Harry wasn't sure how mature it was to hang upside down off of a couch with his best friend, having a conversation about what it would be like if furniture were kept on the ceiling instead of the floor, but in this moment, he hardly cared. Several feet away were two stacks of books—one Harry's, and one Ron's—and both had been placed there with the intent that they would assist in the completion of their homework assignments. The boys were content to busy themselves with anything that wasn't homework.

Little did Harry know that this was the scene that would meet Hermione as she entered the relatively quiet common room: that of two rather large feet propped up on the back of the couch, with no bodies in sight.

"What are you two doing?" came Hermione's weary question, causing Ron and Harry to exchange glances. Her expression and stance were easy to imagine; her hand was most likely rested on her forehead which was wrinkled in frustration, the other stationed at her hip. Harry sighed and righted himself, turning around and offering Hermione a weak smile.

"We're studying the effects of gravity on one's ability to do magic," Ron replied after having thought for a moment, remaining in his upside-down position.

"Don't lie to me," Hermione responded, coming around the couch and staring down at the two boys. "Your wands are both sitting over there, and whether right-side-up or upside-down, the force of gravity on your bodies is the same, it's just distributed differently."

"I didn't say the circumstances for experimentation were ideal, but at least it's an effort—"

"Ron!"

"Fine!"

Like Harry had, Ron swung his feet off the back of the couch and, with a grunt of discomfort, found his way back to a seated stance.

"Happy?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded contentedly, and with a wave of her hand, said, "Budge up."

Harry instantly moved to the side of the couch she indicated, and she lowered herself down to sit between the two boys, resting her head against the back of the couch and sighing.

"So, what lured you from the library?" Harry questioned good-naturedly.

"I wouldn't call it a lure, exactly," Hermione answered. "Actually, I just came here to deliver a message, but now that I'm sitting down, I think I'd rather like to stay."

Harry waited a moment, and when Hermione did not elaborate, asked, "What was the message?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed with an accompanying laugh at her mistake. "Sorry, I thought I'd said! Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office—I'm not sure why, but I was told you're in no trouble."

"Wait, who told you this?" asked Harry, rising from the couch.

"Professor Snape," Hermione told him. "He found me in the Library and asked me to come tell you."

"Curious he didn't do it himself," Ron commented, apparently oblivious to the faltering expression on Harry's face.

"Yes, it is a little odd," Hermione admitted, shrugging. Glancing at Harry, she added, "I'm sure he's just got a lot to do."

"Yeah, all those tests to grade," Harry agreed unconvincingly, frowning slightly as he gave his friends a little wave and promised to see them later.

While there was most likely some viability to Hermione's reasoning, the fact that Severus had felt it necessary to send information with a messenger made Harry wonder at just how angry the man still was with him. Was he so upset that he couldn't stand even to speak to Harry? Really, he hadn't behaved terribly to the boy, but it was possible that this owed to the fact that he was still attempting to make up for the altercation that had occurred several weeks ago.

Harry made his way down the corridor, turning these thoughts over in his mind with such concern that he barely noticed his surroundings. He allowed his feet to carry him where he needed to go while his mind wandered to other places.

A part of Harry's mind rebelled against the feelings of hurt in favour of a more volatile emotion. Anger was certainly present; how was Harry supposed to 'make it right' if Severus was avoiding him? His father's behaviour almost seemed equivalent to the tactics of a girl who wanted something from a boy—almost as if he was playing hard to get, only with a far different goal in mind.

Still, Harry reminded himself, he had been the one to do wrong in the first place. Severus' anger, if not poorly handled, was understandable. This fact, however, did not nullify Harry's feelings on the matter. Given this fact, he had a feeling that today would not be the day that he went down to fix things with his father. Truthfully, he didn't know when it would be.

Harry found the staircase to Dumbledore's office already open, and tread his way easily up the stairs to the office. He could hear voices floating through the open door, and stopped at the entrance to give a small knock on the oak, obliged to alert them to his presence in case he was intruding on anything.

"Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed jovially, rising from his desk and motioning for Harry to enter the room. "I see Severus managed to locate you."

"Actually, Hermione did," Harry said, knowing he had failed to keep a touch of bitterness out of his tone when Dumbledore's bright expression allayed slightly. "So… why did you want me?"

"I thought you might like to see an old friend," Dumbledore explained. "Though it won't have been that long since you last met, I assumed you'd appreciate it nonetheless."

Harry frowned and, stepping forward, spotted Lupin sitting in a chair that had been previously obstructed from his view. "Professor!"

Lupin rolled his eyes at the title, but smiled and rose to greet Harry anyways. "How are you, Harry?"

"Great," Harry replied automatically. It was one of those questions one always found his or herself responding to without thought, whether the answer was true or not. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to wish your father a happy birthday, naturally," joked Lupin.

"I didn't know it was coming up," Harry admitted.

"No?" asked Lupin, tilting his head. "No, Severus wouldn't be one to mention it—January 9th, if you wanted to know."

Harry's eyebrows lifted; this didn't give him much time—though, admittedly, it wasn't his main priority at the moment, especially considering his current feelings towards his father.

"But I'm only joking," Lupin continued. "I'm here to assist with the Auror duty," he explained, causing Harry's forehead to wrinkle in puzzlement.

"But… you're not an Auror."

"I'm not, no," Lupin admitted with a consenting nod.

"I've cleared it with the Ministry," said Dumbledore. "Lupin has done enough for the Order that I was able to justify his staying here. We have attempted to place as many Order members in the castle as possible, to avoid complications or conflicts of interest."

Harry nodded; that made sense to him. Given the changes the castle had undergone with the invasion of Dolores Umbridge the previous year, Harry could easily understand why Dumbledore would want to keep as much of the Ministry out of Hogwarts as possible.

"So you'll be here a while, then?" Harry asked, redirecting his attention to Lupin.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure how often you'll be seeing me, but yes," responded Lupin. "We have been ordered to disrupt the daily student life as little as possible; really, we're not even supposed to be seen."

"I would think they'd want you out in the open, to discourage any misbehaviour," Harry commented.

"On the contrary, Harry," Dumbledore said. "The trouble we are attempting to prevent will certainly be executed by someone who knows how to avoid being caught—as long as that someone knows when it is most likely that such a thing will happen. I will make the school aware of the presence of aurors, but they will not be seen. An element of mystery makes them much more formidable opponents, I think."

Harry thought that titling it an 'element of mystery' was a bit of a stretch, but he didn't say so. In essentials, Dumbledore seemed right… though that in itself was not a surprising fact.

"The Headmaster, your Head of House, and Severus will normally be aware of my whereabouts," Lupin told him as Harry mulled over Dumbledore's words. "If you'd ever like to see me, you can just ask one of them. You know I always welcome your company."

"Of course," Harry responded, giving him a small smile.

Lupin looked as though he was going to respond with a change of topic, but through Dumbledore's open door the bell signalling the end of lunch could be heard, and Harry lent him an apologetic look.

"I've really got to get to class," he told his ex-professor. "Sev—my fa—I've been told to get my grades up. I don't think missing my classes will help me much."

"Completely understandable," Lupin chuckled, rising from his seat. "It's always good to see you, Harry."

"You too," Harry said earnestly, warmed as Lupin gave him a light pat on the shoulder and nodded his goodbye. Harry returned the nod and gave Dumbledore a wave, and then made a quick exit from the office, wondering vaguely how much time he had to gather his transfiguration text and cursing himself for not having thought to bring it with him.

xxx

The advantage of having a seventh year class at the end of the day was that Severus could order them to the library to do independent research on the individual projects he would be expecting from them by the end of the year, thereby leaving himself some free time to grade essays and tend to his throbbing headache. For this he was immensely grateful.

The end of the double period was near, and Severus was reclining behind his desk, drumming his fingers thoughtlessly against the arm of his chair. His boredom had reached a peak, and he was looking forward to returning to his quarters at the end of the night. He watched the clock attentively, feeling very much like a school boy waiting for the end of his worst class.

Though the day's end did not come as quickly as Severus would have liked, it did eventually come. He remained in front of his desk for several minutes after the ringing of the bell; he was not especially keen on the idea of making his way through the crowded hallways at this very moment.

The audible chaos in the hallways died down after a short amount of time, prompting Severus to clear off his desk, storing the essays which he did not intend to view until a later date, and exit the classroom. Before he could return to his quarters he would need to visit the Slytherin common room, only for observational purposes and to subtly remind his students that he was keeping a close watch on all of them. They seemed to need that every once in a while.

Severus stepped out into the corridor and, exhaling his frustration that his day was not yet over, set off towards the common room. The closer he came to his destination, the quieter and more deserted the hallways became. In fact, he saw very few students, except for a group of Slytherin third years standing in a small huddle and quite obviously plotting something, however inane. Severus shot them a glare of annoyance as he stalked past, not because he was irritated by their gathering, but because their furtive glances and secretive stance made them anything but discreet—these elementary lapses in cunning were one of the most perturbing among the faults of Slytherins, at least to their Head of House.

The group of students disbanded soon after, most likely having realised that Severus would be heading back that way very soon and that remaining in a position with which he had seemed displeased would not be the wisest of decisions.

When Severus finally reached the common room several minutes later, he was pleased to find that there were many students within that would most likely spread the word of his appearance. One small first year, for example, had frozen mid-step when he'd entered, and was still gawking at him without realizing he was doing so. Several seventh years were seated on the couches, and had looked up to give him dutiful nods of greeting before going back to their quiet reading. A gaggle of girls sat in the corner nearest to the fireplace, glancing him and giggling about something toward which he held no curiosity. He cast a gaze of scrutiny about the room and stepped down onto the floor, silently circling the area and inspecting the activities of various children. Few were brave enough to speak to him, and those who did gave him only a reverent, "Sir," before returning to whatever had previously engaged them. This pleased him; he preferred to stay distant in moments such as these, knowing that his coldness added to the element of intimidation.

Satisfied that his appearance had been noted and that he had completed his task of making sure nothing was going wrong in the common room, Severus left soon after his arrival. He needed only to speak with Dumbledore about an impending change in the curriculum, and then he would be freed (assuming he was not asked to run any more purposeless errands) for the evening.

Ascending from the dungeons, Severus purposefully strode toward the stairs and, once he had reached the second landing, toward the Headmaster's office. He turned a corner and began down a hallway that was littered with students who were all presumably coming from the same class. He paid little attention to the stragglers until he noticed a speck of dark, messy hair among the crowd. His eyes narrowed and he searched out the face of the boy, confirming that it was (as suspected) Harry.

A curious thing happened then. Severus lifted his eyebrows and kept his eyes trained on Harry, waiting for the boy to look up and notice him. He did within mere seconds, but then immediately ducked his head and continued walking at a quickened pace. Severus frowned and stopped where he stood, turning and watching the boy hurry away from him. He lifted a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it, feeling rather bewildered and disliking the feeling greatly.

Because he did not want to attract attention, Severus didn't call out to the boy, nor did he follow him. He realized that standing in the middle of the hallway was a behaviour few students would expect from him and, though he did not particularly want to, turned and continued on his way. His expression of discontentment shifted to one of contemplativeness as he quickly replayed the situation in his mind.

The first thought that crossed his mind was that perhaps he had unintentionally directed a glare in Harry's direction, and the boy had sensed his tetchy mood; he may have avoided Severus' gaze out of a desire for self-preservation. This did not seem likely, however, for as much credit as Severus had learned to lend to the boy's skills of intuition, it could not be said that the boy was so astutely perceptive.

No, Severus had an idea that Harry's avoidance had absolutely nothing to do with either of their moods. He could guess that this was a furtherance of the measures the boy had been taking to distance himself from Severus since the night Severus had apprehended him in the middle of breaking yet another rule. He seemed to believe that steering clear of Severus for a while was the best course of action. Admittedly, he may have been right.

It made little sense, however, why Harry would suddenly take this to such an extent—from mere aloofness to definite evasion. Severus narrowed his eyes as he walked, considering this thought, and all at once, he understood what had triggered Harry's response to his presence. The child had put two and two together and came to the conclusion that Severus had sent Hermione because he could not stand to do it himself.

Leave it to Harry to assume the worst… this was the only thought Severus could conjure at this realization: a realization which came with an accompaniment of both agitation and a strange feeling of sympathy.

Though he had not planned to do anything with his night, Severus gathered that it was necessary to find a remedy to this situation without delay. As he came to this conclusion, all hopes of a quiet night with a dose of much needed alcohol promptly flew out the window.

xxx

Harry was mildly surprised when he didn't see Severus at the staff table and, with a certain amount of melancholy, again amounted it to his father's disinclination to see him. Unwilling to spend the hour sulking over Severus behaviour, however, Harry shifted the situation to the back of his mind, directing his attention to alternative (though not necessarily more pleasant) thoughts.

Chasing his food around his plate unenthusiastically, Harry contemplated the mound of homework waiting for him in atop his crimson coverlet. Gone were the days when teachers allowed a sort of adjustment period after the holidays; now, as a sixth year N.E.W.T. student, Harry found himself faced with an incomprehensible amount of work to do in just the first week back. Apparently, the professors were not going to stop for anything, not even the current events. Inside Hogwarts' walls, life continued at a rapid pace.

"Harry," said Hermione gently, shaking him from his contemplation.

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?" she asked with concern. "You seem worried."

"Oh," said Harry dumbly. "Just homework—you know, so much to do."

"Are you sure that's all?" inquired Hermione, eyes narrowing keenly.