The Ministry of Magic had proclaimed a day of celebration. You-Know-Who was gone and his Death Eaters had been rounded up and taken to Azkaban. The Ministry had declared that the Boy-Who-Lived was safe and happy.

Arabella knew that throughout Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and its grounds, the staff and students reveled and bon fires blazed. Even here, high in her favorite tower, where she had spent countless hours with Lily and Severus during their years as students she could hear the faint echoes of their merriment.

She should be among them, celebrating what was supposed to be a joyous day. Arabella had worked long and hard to ensure this day; as an Auror assigned to assist with Hogwart’s security and as a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Instead, Arabella paced alone atop the tower, her black woolen cloak barely a defense against the bitter cold of the late November night. She fervently wished, if only for a moment, the frigid winds that whipped around the parapets and towers of the school would change direction and blow through the halls and grounds that were now occupied by those celebrating. That, for just a short time, those revelers could understand the dire cost that bought their joyous day.

Finally, Arabella stopped her pacing at the edge of the tower. She stared out over the turbulent lake, concentrating on the howling winds. The rushing of the water against the cliffs below her seemed to buffet against her own heart and soul, wearing away the anger and frustration that held her fragile heart and soul together.

Slowly, she slumped against the wall, sliding to her knees, her forehead pressed against the hard, cold stone. Her breathing became increasingly ragged as wave after wave of despair battered her.

Pulling herself to her feet, she stumbled away from the wall only to crumple to the floor of tower roof. Sitting there, her body shaking with grief, she huddled under her cloak, clutching a small, black leather photo album to her chest. Unable to do anything else, Arabella stared blindly ahead, her cries echoing the howling of the winds as she rocked herself slowly, back and forth.

Arabella had come back this night in the hopes of finding some relief and comfort in her memories of happier times. In the end, she was only able to grieve.

She quickly realized that nothing, not even memories could shelter her from the desolation that racked her very soul. Desperately, she struggled against the urge to sink forever into her memories; to use her gift to literally relive her favorite moments on this roof, moments long past. All she had to do was close her eyes, focus on a memory and whisper a simple charm.

Just one word and she would experience again her wedding day or the day she used the charm that bound her to Harry as his godmother. Just one word and she could relive any one of the memories of her and her two best friends, Lily and Severus. The memories that haunted every corner of this school, where they had spent much of their lives.

Curling her legs into her chest, Arabella let herself finally cry. She wanted the door to open. She wanted her best friend, her husband, to sit beside her and pull her into his arms like he had so many times before. She wanted to hear his heartbeat beneath her ear as she clutched to him. She wanted to be rocked and soothed, to hear that deep, rich voice whisper to her again. She wanted to hear his voice tremble slightly as it always did when one of “his girls” was hurting. She wanted him to tell her it was all a bad dream; that it was going to be okay again.

But he couldn’t do those things. Like James and Lily, Severus was dead. He was lost in a Death Eater raid.

One by one, she’d lost them all.

The evening before Halloween, she opened her door to her quarters to find Dumbledore and her twin brother, Sirius, standing in the hall. It was only Sirius’ strong arms that keep her upright when Dumbledore had placed Severus wedding band in her hands and told her he was dead.

Less than forty-eight hours later, even that solace was denied her. Lily and James Potter were dead at the hands of Voldermort and her much-loved twin, Sirius, had been declared a mass murderer and a traitor.

Now, two weeks later, the last of her hopes lay shredded in Dumbledore’s office. The Ministry had denied her at every turn. First, her requests to speak to her brother fell on deaf ears. They had not even afforded Sirius a trial before condemning him to the hell of Azkaban. Then the Ministry declared her of questionable loyalty due to her connection to the “betrayer” and to a known Death Eater. These two factors made her unfit in their eyes to raise “The Boy Who Lived.” The Ministry ignored her position of Godmother, ignored James and Lily’s own stated preferences. Even Dumbledore sided with them. He believed it was in Harry’s best interest to be with Lily’s sister, where he could grow up a “normal” boy.

Arabella’s sobs became harsher at the thought of that precious boy being condemned to live with hateful muggles like Petunia, without the kind of love he deserved. What good was his safety if he didn’t have someone to hold him, to soothe away his nightmares and tell him the truth about those who loved him most?

Sometime, close to dawn, her tears dried, leaving behind only a dull ache in the center of her chest. Arabella continued to lie on the tower roof floor, listening the waves that rushed against the shore below, not ready to pull herself from the stone floor, not yet ready to say good-bye to this world.

As her mind began to clear and she knew there was nothing she could do now for Severus or Sirius. But Harry still needed her. Closing her eyes one final time, she let the grief well up, it choked her as she said her silent good-byes to the two men she loved, asking silently for Sirius to forgive her for leaving him to Azkaban. Pushing herself to her feet, she walked stiffly to the edge of the tower wall and watched as the sun slowly crept over the horizon.

Drained and numb but determined, she opened the photo album she still held close to her heart and removed one of two letters. Carefully, she detached a photo from her album, and tucked it inside the envelope that contained a final letter and wedding band and was marked in clear script - Severus. Whispering one final “I love you,” she pulled out a loose stone from the tower wall and tucked the envelope behind it. It was the closest to a grave she could give him.

Taking one final look around, Arabella whispered her renewed promised to the ghosts of this place. She’d protect Harry, she would love him and when the time was right, she’d tell him all about his parents and the people who loved him. When he was ready, she’d tell him the truth they’d been so careful to hide.

January 1982

The incessant tapping on the window finally dragged Remus from a deep, dreamless sleep. Grumbling, he rolled from the bed and stumbled to the window. Popping the window open, he stepped back, allowing the irritated barn owl to enter his room in a flutter of brown feathers and irate hooting. Sighing, Remus moved back to his bed and dropped down heavily next to the bird, which squawked loudly. Carefully, he untied the letter and the owl immediately took off, flying straight back out the window.

 Unfolding the parchment, Remus skimmed the contents, not truly comprehending what the letter said until he saw the signature at the bottom -- Arabella. His heart rate immediately escalating and his throat seemed to be swelling shut. Reaching across toward the nightstand, he grabbed his wand and whispered a quick "lumos" before settling against his headboard to re-read the letter.

Dear Remus,

I don't know how long this letter will take to find you; I pray not too long. By now, I am guessing you have heard about what happened in October. They are all dead, Remus. Lily, James, Severus, even Peter. All our friends -- save Sirius, and he was condemned to Azkaban. They've even taken little Harry away.

I tried, Rem. I fought to convince them they were wrong about Sirius, wrong about me. But ten years of working with them, risking our lives and sacrificing, all the while working toward one goal, doesn't seem to be enough for them. They're pompous, ungrateful jackasses, Remus. I hate them.

 Those damn fools at the Ministry declared me ill fitted to raise their precious Boy-Who-Lived. Their justification - my husband was Death Eater and my twin is "the Betrayer." But he's Harry, not some damned "Boy-Who-Lived!" My God, Remus, he's just a baby.

 And if losing them all isn't bad enough, I have to endure the stares and whispers of faculty and students alike. Seems the only people interested in not treating with hostility and pity are the Slytherin students. The Slytherins!

 I don't know what to say Remus. I am sorry I didn't stand up for you as strongly as I should have. I hope you know I never doubted you, not once. Please forgive me?

 I guess that is all I really have to say, aside from good-bye.

 I can't stand living in this world anymore. Wherever I look, it just inspires hate and bitterness. I can't live like that -- I won't. I am sorry for leaving you alone again.

Arabella 

Remus blinked several times, trying to ease the burning. He had heard about Lily, James, and poor Harry, even about Sirius and Peter. He'd spent the past few months wallowing in his own grief. He never gave a thought to Severus or what Arabella endured.

His chest burned as he realized that Arabella had been left as alone as he. Only his isolation had been partly his own choice. When he walked away, he protected himself, isolated himself. He had months to adjust to their absence in his day-to-day life. It didn't lessen his pain, but it did make it easier to bear.

What must it have been like for Arabella? From what he'd read, Lily and James died less than 48 hours after going under the Fidelas charm. He guessed from her letter, that Severus had either died just before or just after Lily and James.

"Oh god, Bella," he whispered as his head fell back against the wall.

I kept it in present tense.

Remus didn't know how long he sat there, holding the letter. He closed his burning eyes and tried not to see the tear-stained face of Arabella his guilty conscience conjured. He remembered the desolation and sense of abandonment he suffered when the Marauders, Peter specifically, had suggested that maybe the wolf within had gotten the better of him, that he was the traitor working with Voldemort. The one person who had supported him had been Arabella. She came to help him pack what little he owned before he went into a semi-willing exile and stayed until she was sure he knew how much he meant to her and that she trusted him. He remembered the tears she had in her eyes as they said good-bye.

Looking back, he knew he never thanked her or gave her any indication of how much her support meant to him. It was the one thread he clung to, that someday this would be over and he would be welcomed back. He repaid that kindness and loyalty by abandoning her when she needed him most. He should have come as soon as he heard. Maybe he could have given her a link to hold on.

At some point he realized he needed to know more, needed to know what had happened, not wanting to believe Arabella had given in totally to her despair. Remus needed to find information and he knew only one place he could find answers. Rising from the bed, he quickly made himself presentable and left his small cottage and headed for Hogwarts 

Purposely, Remus apparated to the side of Hogsmeade furthest from The Screaming Shack, desperate to avoid those memories. He walked quickly into town and accessed the tunnel to Hogwarts. The more he thought of Arabella, the faster he walked; his speed fueled by his fear and anger. Fear of what he would find, anger that any of it had been allowed to happen.

He stopped at the end of the long tunnel to Hogwarts and tiredly brushed off the dust from his robes. His thoughts swam with bitter accusations. Shoving the secret entrance open, he strode through the halls to the perched gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office and whispered the password used only by members of the Order of the Phoenix. With each step, irate thoughts filled his mind. How could they leave her like that? Why didn't someone help her? Arabella was always there when others needed someone, where the hell were all those people when she needed them?

"Damn it, Albus. How could you let this happen?"

The demanding, embittered words tinged with fear drifted to him as he climbed the circular stairs that led to the Hogwarts' Headmaster's office. For a moment, he paused. While the words themselves struck a cord deep within him, it was the male voice that stopped him. The tone of voice was familiar and managed to convey more than simple anger; it was vitriolic. But it couldn't that greasy git.

There was a pause in conversation and Remus could almost visualize the Headmaster regarding his guest, silently judging how best to proceed.

"She is a strong woman." He heard the controlled tone of Albus' soft, smooth voice begin, "Didn't you once tell me she was indomitable? That she never gave up, not on you or anyone else, even when you were ready to surrender? She will survive this, as will you."

"How can you be so sure? She is alone and betrayed. Everything she had to fight for was stripped away. How can you be so sure that she even wants to persist in this little scheme?"

The stillness in the air at the statement was chilling. Knocking quickly before losing his nerve, Remus let the others know of his presence. He waited to hear the Headmaster's response granting entrance before pushing open the heavy wooden door. 

Standing across the room, behind his massive, cluttered desk was the tall man with his distinctive, long, white hair and an equally long, white beard. Remus glared at the man for a moment before turning his attention to the other figure he knew was in the office. Remus studied the figure seated across from Dumbledore with cold eyes; making out the dark expensive clothing that hung from the pale, gaunt man. Remus waited to see if the wizard would turn to face him; as it was, the man's features were obscured by the chin-length, dull black hair that hung limply about his face.

"Remus!"

He heard Dumbledore's startled and concerned voice, but he couldn't pull his eyes from the man in the chair. Nor could he stop the trembling of his limbs as realization hit him square in the chest. It was Severus. The bastard had betrayed Arabella. The one person who could have saved her and he left her alone and abandoned when she needed him most.

The world blurred; all Remus saw was red.

From somewhere he heard the raw, guttural scream of rage that echoed through the room followed quickly by the screeching of a bird. Fury burning within him, Remus swiftly moved forward and grabbed Severus by the front of his robes. Pulling him up so there eyes meet, he glowered at him. "Bastard! Where the hell were you? How could you do that to Arabella!" he spat before throwing the taller man against the wall.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The world titled and he felt himself falling heavily the floor. He seethed with anger as he tried to break his bonds, knowing it was futile. He could see the bright blue swish of Dumbledore's robe as he dashed to Snape's aid.

"Are you injured?" Remus heard the faint whisper Dumbledore addressed to the other man, but no reply. He did hear the rustle of fabric as Dumbledore assisted the younger man to his feet. Within seconds, both men, the elder visibly supporting the younger, stood above him. The elder gazed down on him with a combination of exasperation and disappointment; his eyes were full of sadness.

It was the younger man's face and expression that affected Remus the most, filling him again with guilt. There was an unnatural weariness to the man and his black eyes seemed empty and lost. He was a good thirty pounds lighter than Remus remembered and his skin abnormally pale -- even for him. While his hair was obviously clean, it was also lackluster, flaccid and uneven. The duo eventually moved from his line of sight as Albus' helped Severus back to his chair.

"I will remove the spell, but you will sit quietly or I will have you removed." Shortly after the Headmaster's stern words, he heard the incantation that freed him from immobility. Rising to his feet, he faced the Headmaster, who simply gestured to a chair.

Taking the hint, Remus slumped into the chair next to Severus. Letting his head fall forward he closed his eyes. He did not want to see his fears confirmed by a set of pale blue and a set of black eyes.

The truth was, he wasn't ready to see his own guilt reflected in their gazes. He heard Albus' calm and concerned voice question him and managed to raise his eyes. Ignoring the wizened old man, he turned to face Severus. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a slightly worn envelope and held it out to the dark man.

"I received this and came straight here. I was hoping to find Arabella," his voice faltered. Remus took a few breaths and continued, "I wanted to believe I misread the letter or that she changed her mind."

Throwing a brief look at Dumbledore, he continued again, "I hoped someone noticed the signs and intervened. I just can't believe we've lost her!"

Remus's statement was cut off by a deep, keening and very brief moan. Throwing his gaze toward the man in the chair next to him, he noted the slight trembling in Severus's hands as he read Arabella's letter.

He studied Severus's reactions; the slow measuring breathes that returned his mask of composure, the slight quake in his hands as the letter was carefully refolded and handed back to him. Severus gracefully, even though his body shook slightly with the effort, rose from his seat and left the office without a word.

He watched the closed door for several minutes before turning to face the Headmaster. He, too, was watching the door; his pale blue eyes were watery and shimmering sadly.

"The letter said he was dead." Remus stated.

"Yes, well, until today I believed he was. He was severely injured in that raid just before Halloween. One of the other Death Eaters pulled him out and has been seeing to his care since. He came here as soon as he was physically able. He is still very weak, as you saw."

"And Arabella? Why?" Seemed to be all Remus could force past the constriction in his throat.

Albus Dumbledore turned his tired and possibly ever wizening eyes toward him questioningly.

"Why didn't you see? You always . . . saw everything, knew everything!" With each word, Remus felt his grief and guilt tearing through him. As he had in childhood, he found himself looking to the kind man with the long white hair and beard for answers.

As he looked into his idol's eyes he saw what he had feared he would, his own guilt and pain mirrored in Dumbledore's eyes. Remus waited for him to answer, still holding on to a small bit of hope. The Headmaster's voice was weary and regretful when he replied.

"I will tell you what I already told Severus. The Ministry and I agreed that with Lily and James dead, the only sure means of protecting Harry was to remove him from the magical world altogether. We feel that his best hope of not only living, but growing up relatively normal is with Lily's family."

Remus felt the rage begin to well up within him again; knowing the pain that betrayal must have caused Arabella. Albus paused for a moment, his expression telling Remus he was waiting for him to either start screaming or regain control over his emotions.

Finally, he continued, his voice gentle and soothing, "I am not heartless Remus. Nor did I fail to see how the situation was affecting Arabella. I offered her the only alternative I could at the time. I have sent her to act as a guardian of sorts. I have made sure that no one in the wizarding world can find her. She can only contact me in a situation of mortal peril. For now I think its best that the rest of the wizarding world thinks she committed suicide. She wrote you that letter knowing you would come here looking for answers."

Dumbledore seemed to wait for his words to sink into Remus' mind before continuing, "You must not go after her, Remus. It would expose Harry to much danger."

"And Severus?" Remus asked and watched as the old wizard's eyes began to shine. "My one regret is that she left believing that Severus had been killed. They have both suffered greatly. Severus has agreed to abide by my conditions, for both Arabella's and Harry's sake. 

Remus nodded, understanding. His heart ached for Arabella, knowing she would endure years of grief only to replace it with more guilt than she deserved to bear. Tucking his letter back into his robe. Smiling slightly, he inclined his head to Albus Dumbledore in farewell. "I'll be in touch, so you know where to reach me should you need to."

"Thank you, Remus. Be well."

As Remus walked out of the office, down the hall, through the hidden passage way that led to Hogsmeade. More than anything, he needed time. He needed time to come to terms with his life and choices, time to heal. As he walked, he remembered the years he spent here, the happiness and unquestioned belonging that seemed lost to him now. He turned to face Hogwarts one more time before apparating home.

October 31, 1982

Severus stood at the front of his classroom, glaring after the second year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs as they rushed out the door muttering under their breaths. He really didn’t care if they were miserable in his class. He wasn’t particularly happy and he saw no reason to play act for or coddle a bunch of sniveling children.

As the last student filed out, he moved over toward his desk and methodically began straightening the turned-in papers and vials of potions. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flash of movement and red hair. Irritated, he looked up to see one lone Gryffindor standing sheepishly by the door, his attention fixed on his shoes.

“What do you want, Mr. Weasley?” Severus inquired, his cold voice revealing his displeasure. The young boy flinched and looked around nervously; he hoped the boy would just leave. He wasn’t quite so lucky.

“Professor, I was, well, um…” The boy stammered, much to Severus’ annoyance.

“Spit. It. Out. Mr. Weasley, or leave.” Severus replied menacingly.

The boy gathered enough of the famous Gryffindor courage and stepped across the threshold back into the classroom. “I miss Ms. Figg, sir.” He began in a rush, “She was kind to me last year, helped me adjust to being at Hogwarts and I really miss her.”

Severus barely noticed when boy paused for a minute, breathing deeply. His thoughts were in turmoil at the unexpected mention of his wife. It was the boy’s next sentences that forced a realization upon Severus that he was not prepared to handle.

“I can’t quite picture what she looked like anymore, Professor and I was hoping…um,” the boy stammered, fidgeting a bit. “I was hoping, Professor, that you might have a picture of her that I could have?”

Immediately at the boy’s words, Severus had called on his own mental image of Arabella, only to find it was not as clear as he wanted it to be. It was like a fog had descended, obscuring her from his sight. His body tensed and his breathing held as the awareness that he was losing his last connection to Arabella sent a wave of misery through him nearly caused his knees to buckle. Only sheer willpower kept him standing.

“Leave, Mr. Weasley. Never mention my wife to me again.” He managed to bite out, forcing a disgusted sneer onto his face before he turned his back and left the room for his office. He did not wait to see the boy leave. Slamming the door behind him, he moved briskly to cabinet unlocking the door and removing the black leather book that sat half-hidden on a bottom self.

Walking back to his desk, he dropped down into the chair and opened the book. Staring up at him from the front page was his beautiful Arabella. He took a deep, steadying breath as one long finger reached out to stroke along her waist-length, dark brown hair that glowed a deep red, reflecting the light of the fire behind her. Her pale blue eyes danced happily as she looked up at him. Occasionally, the woman in the picture would chuckle slightly, shaking her head.

Silently and slowly, he turned the pages, barely noticing the tears falling from his eyes. It had been a year since he lost Arabella. Her absence had been a festering wound during his long months of convalescence and trial on charges related to his former status as a Death Eater. For the first few months, he had expected to see her around every corner or hear her voice teasing him from a sour mood. Every once in a while his mind would conjure soft, phantom touches. He would feel her fingers caressing his cheek, or her arms were wrapping around his waist from behind. Those occasions were all but gone now and it terrified him. The only thing that terrified him more was the idea that Arabella might be moving on with her life without him.

Several of the other professors had tried to help him through his grief, encouraging him to accept Arabella’s death and start moving on with his life. Each well-intentioned attempt only made him scared, angry and resentful. He knew Arabella was out there alone somewhere, grieving for a husband she thought was dead, scared for the future of one small, helpless little boy. For the millionth time, Severus wondered why he just didn’t ignore Dumbledore and go to her. His place was with his wife, his job was to comfort her, help her through her dark days.

“Going to Arabella and Harry would only increase the danger to them, Severus.”

Severus looked up from the photos to see Albus Dumbledore standing in the threshold between the Potions classroom and his office. Unable to handle the compassion and empathy in the elder wizard’s pale, blue eyes, he glanced down again to the photos.

“It was not an easy decision for her to make, Severus.” Dumbledore said in a soft voice, as he walked further into the room. “She left her brother in Azkaban. She left Remus to face his grief alone.” He paused, moving to just the other side of the desk, then said is an even gentler voice, “And she while you reputation, your good name, was being destroyed. But it was the best, the only, decision she could have made.”

Severus clenched his hands as he listened to the Headmaster. He knew, better than anyone save Arabella herself, how difficult it had been for her to make that choice. All it did was make his desire to find her and Harry stronger. He wanted to bring them home, take care of them, and make up for all the times he had failed them.

“You know, as well as I, that Voldemort and several of his followers are still out there.”

When the headmaster paused Severus felt compelled to look up.

“If you go to them now, you risk Harry’s life and everything Arabella, Lily and James sacrificed for him. The Ministry will not give Arabella custody. She will be forced to choose between you both,” he said in that stern by soothing voice he sometimes used. “Think hard, Severus, before you make your choice. I would suggest, perhaps, visiting that tower you are so fond of. I believe Arabella spent a good amount of time there while making her decision.”

Much to Severus annoyance, Albus had that twinkle back in his eye for a mere moment as he flicked a hand toward the book of photos causing several pages to turn. Albus glanced down to the photo on the page and smiled. “Yes, I do believe that one is my favorite.”

With those words, Albus smiled and left Severus alone in the dark office. Glancing down, Severus examined the picture the older man had chosen. Gingerly, he lifted the picture from the page. Closing his eyes, he could almost visualize the moment; even hear the sound of Arabella’s and Harry’s laughs.

He had taken it two years earlier and been mercilessly teased by Arabella for such a show of sentimentality. But the sound of his wife laughing in such a carefree way had been a rarity in that tumultuous year. As he watched her, lying on their bed, one hand supporting her head as the other tickled a giggling three month-old Harry, the infant’s arms and legs punching and kicking out excitedly, he felt compelled to capture the moment. Her laugh had been full and contagious, even now he found himself smiling at the memory.

Taking the picture, he left his office, his feet leading him without thought to the stairwell that led to the tower’s rooftop. Memories and confusing emotions assailed him with each step. He wondered if Arabella was happy or if she was sitting somewhere alone grieving for him and her family the way he was grieved for her. Was she hiding in some textbook, trying to keep her mind from wandering to the pain the last three Halloweens had brought? Or was she despairing for her damnable brother who was trapped in Azkaban and quite likely insane by now?

Pushing open the stairwell door, he concentrated on climbing step by step, trying to keep the fresh waves of grief and loneliness at bay. Reaching the top, he walked to the edge and gazed out across the black waters of the lake. He wanted to lose himself in the darkness, in the dredged up memories, both good and bad. He could accept the anguish so long as the memories didn’t fade away, as long as he didn’t lose that last piece of her.

Walking along the wall, he ran his hand over the stones, trying to conjure up memories from his school days and from his more recent times with Arabella. He tried to remember the way she would stand so close to him, the feel of her body leaning into his side as they stood facing the lake. Eventually, his fingers found the slightly loose stone in the wall. As children, they had used it as a safe place to leave messages.

Unconsciously, his fingers pried the stone further from the wall. Kneeling down, he looked inside the small hole, remembering the secret notes often left there. He felt his heart begin to race at the sight of a simple parchment envelope with his name written in bold, elegant script on the front.

With shaking hands, he retrieved the letter. Fumbling slightly, he flipped the letter over to look at the seal, immediately recognizing Arabella’s personal coat of arms. Breaking the seal, he pulled out the letter and heard a soft ‘clink’ as a shiny ring fell from within the folded paper to the stone floor. Reaching down, he picked up the ring, running his finger over the distinctive carvings in the gold and platinum band. Tilting it slightly, he read the interior inscription – Arabella & Severus – Tryw’r Amser1

Slumping against the wall, he let his body slide to the floor. His eyes never left the band he held reverently in his fingers. He felt the slight warm tingling in the tips of his fingers, and closed his eyes as relief washed through him. The tingling warmth could mean only one thing; the binding charm still actively tied the set of wedding rings together.

Binding charms were used most commonly on wedding bands, the more powerful the wizard pair, the stronger the bond between the rings. The charm drew its power from the mind and emotions of the wearer. The live connection between the rings meant that not only did Arabella still wear her ring, in her heart and mind she still thought of herself as his wife; she was still in love with him. By some miracle, even after a year apart, he hadn’t lost her.

Slipping the ring on the proper finger, he let down all his emotional barriers and concentrated on Arabella and his love for her. It seemed like forever before the bond was fully re-established and the answering warmth of his ring told him she was well.

For several hours, Severus simply sat, relishing in the soothing sensation the ring sent through his body. He knew from experience that his body would eventually adjust to the sensation; it would become normal and unnoticeable. He was determined to burn the feeling into his mind while he had the chance.

The sky began to redden with the dawn, and ironically, it reminded him of the young boy whose simple question had set him on the path that led him here. A small smile curled his lips as he remembered the box of photos he found in Arabella’s quarters while closing up the room. He was pretty sure there were several of Arabella, Harry and Bill Weasley enjoying an early September day down by the lake. If he hurried, he could find them in time for delivery by the morning post.

June 25, 1995 (The day after the third task)

Arabella rolled over and glanced at her clock for the umpteenth time that night. The bright green lights of the Muggle alarm clock read 4 AM. Sighing, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and pulled herself into a sitting position. She knew after thirteen years of living alone, that when her anxieties began to get the better of her, no amount of tossing and turning would help her get any sleep.

Reaching for her dressing gown, she fastened the belt around her thick, round waist with a sigh. Idly, she wondered how it would feel to be free all the charms, potions and transfigurations for more than a day at a time. Pulling open the drawer in her bedside table, she retrieved her wand and a small wooden box before slowly making her way through the dark house to her kitchen. Setting the box on the table, she ran her hand over the intricately carved lid before she opened the box and pulled out a group of letters neatly tied together by a green ribbon. Tapping the stack of letters with her wand, she whispered a short incantation and watched the letters expand back to their original size.

Ten years ago, the first group of letters had been in one of the rare packages she received from Professor Dumbledore. All but one had been from Severus. At the time, the letters had seemed like a godsend, the ability to communicate with Severus again after so long. Now, she wondered if, maybe, ignorance would have been better. Yesterday, according to her last letter, was the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry could be dead, and there was not a thing she could have done to protect him.

Absently, she ran her hand over the envelopes and remembered Severus’ description of the second task, including his suspicions that Harry had stolen the Gillyweed from his personal stores. There were moments when Arabella could almost hear Severus’ voice as she read the letter; at times she thought she could detect his fear for Harry, in others it was only the anger. For the past four years, Arabella had prayed that Severus would get the inclination to find a way and see past the bitterness he had developed for the boy he once dotted on. So far, while he’d never failed to do whatever he had to to protect Harry, his actions were often colored by his bitterness.

Standing abruptly, she began pacing the length of her kitchen. She had never been good at waiting. She was sure that if she had to wait the two days for anything to come from Dumbledore via the Muggle post, there would be a groove worn into her kitchen floor. She was already a nervous wreck. When her wedding band had gone ice-cold earlier in the day, much like a wizard’s clock might register a loved one in mortal danger, she panicked. It took at least an hour for the ring to return to a more normal temperature and her apprehension to ease.

Stopping before her stove, she began the process of making tea in the Muggle fashion, needing something to occupy her mind. She wished that the Hogwart’s Headmaster would just let Severus use an owl, or better yet, come himself. She needed to know what had happened before the grey in her hair was real and not magically induced.

The chiming sound of her doorbell startled her from her introspection. Glancing quickly at a clock, she realized two hours had passed since she had given up on sleeping. Half-heartedly, she straightened her dressing gown and walked toward her foyer. Reaching the door, she looked through the peephole then stepped back and rubbed her eyes before taking another look. Relief washed through her as realized who was waiting for her on the other side of the door. Grabbing the handle, she yanked the door open.

“Remus?” She asked, her voice shaking slightly.

“Good Morning, Arabella,” he replied, smiling a bit mischievously. Gesturing to his side, he said, “Mind if my dog and I come in?”

Glancing down, she noticed the disgruntled, overly large, shaggy black dog biting and tugging madly at the bright pink collar and leash around its neck. At the sound of her laugh, the dog stopped its chewing and began barking excitedly and wagging its tail. Her eyes widened as she looked to Remus for confirmation, still unable to actually believe that both he and Sirius were standing there. The sight of Remus’ wide smile released a flood of relieved tears as she stepped back to let them pass.

She managed to shut the door before finding herself engulfed in the strong arms of her brother. Wrapping her arms around his body, she laid her head against his chest as her hands clutched the worn fabric of his robes. She held on to him tightly, hardly believing it was truly her brother after so many years. As he always had, Sirius seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear and his softly whispered words assured her that both he and Harry were alive and well and that Harry was now the champion. Arabella chuckled softly at his how he exaggerated phrasing as he told the story. The chuckle quickly dissolved into sobs of relief.

She had known that Harry was safe the moment she saw the impish smile on Remus’ face. But still, she needed to hear the confirmation as much as she needed to hear her brother’s voice after thirteen long years. Sirius’ arms tightened around her. His deep voice whispered comforting noises. She laughed and cried even harder as the joy of seeing her brother, alive and relatively well added to her overwhelmed emotions. Knowing the nightmare was nearly over added to her reactions.

Taking a deep breath, Arabella did her best to regain control and she hugged her brother fiercely, squeezing briefly before releasing him and stepping back. “I have missed you, big brother. It’s so good to see you.”

Smiling, she turned to face Remus, who stood leaning against her front door. In one step, she closed the distance between them and drew him into a tight hug. Pulling back, she clasped his head between her hands, examining his face, and taking his “emotional temperature” as he had once jokingly called the habit of using her empathic gift. She laughed slightly at his resigned look and raised eyebrow before throwing her arms around him to hug him again. “I missed you, too, Remi.”

Separating from him, she took his hand and then grabbed her brother’s hand and drew them both into her kitchen. She busied herself immediately with making them both a large breakfast; she was too filled with excited energy to sit still. She gently lectured and teased them both, on not eating enough.

Sirius laughed before asking, “Bella, do you think you could remove the disguise for a short time? It’s disconcerting to hear your voice coming out of ah…” he paused, looking a bit sheepishly.

Bella laughed, enjoying the feeling. Walking to a cabinet, she pulled out a bottle of what looked like Muggle cough medicine. Pouring the prescribed amount, she tossed it back, her body shuddering.

“Ugh! You would think that after thirteen years of taking that stuff once a month, I would get used to the taste. Ugh!” she said, her body shuddering again, emphasizing the point.

Retrieving her wand, which still sat on the kitchen table, she pointed it at herself and ended the multiple glamourie charms and transfigurations that, along with the aging potion, completed her disguise. The sound of her brother’s chair scraping against the floor as he stood quickly and the startled, sad look on Remus’ face told her she probably looked pretty bad.

“That bad, huh?” she asked as her brother moved over toward her, gently taking her shoulders in his hands.

“Bella?”

“I’m alright, really.” She said, trying to sound convincing. Looking to Remus, then back to Sirius, she smiled reassuringly. Touching his cheek, she looked him in the eye, “I won’t pretend it’s been easy, especially this year. But it was necessary, Sirius.”

Letting out a deep breath, Sirius sighed and moved back and dropped into his chair. “I can’t believe that ass let her go through all this alone.” He mumbled under his breath.

Pouring pancake batter onto the skillet, Arabella closed her eyes briefly to compose herself. “He didn’t LET me go through anything alone, Siri. It was part of Dumbledore’s rules.” She responded; knowing his derogatory tone was against Severus and not the Headmaster. “It was either that or I go back to the Wizarding World, and trust me, if I could have taken Harry, I would have left this place a long time ago. But I couldn’t leave him here, Siri. Not with them.” As she spoke, she flipped the pancakes, her spatula scraping harshly against the iron pan.

Lifting the cooked pancakes from the pan, she deposited them on the serving platter before starting a new batch. Then she walked across the kitchen, pulling plates from the cabinet and utensils from a drawer. She placed them on the table before returning to the stove to flip pancakes and check the sausage. Grabbing a bowl, she poured in a bit of milk before cracking several eggs to be beaten.

“So, tell me what’s happened.” She said, matter-of-factly.

“Why do think something has happened?” Sirius asked, his voice both curious and anxious.

She turned and fixed him with a steady glare, “Just because I haven’t slept in a week and turned into a emotional basket case, however briefly, at your arrival does not mean that I am mentally impaired or failed to grasp the significance of the two of you actually sitting in my kitchen when Dumbledore has refused to even allow my own husband to see me in thirteen years!” She ranted at him, managing to say her complete thought in one breath.

Remus laughed slightly and fixed Sirius with a “you had to ask” look before rising from the table and walking toward her. “Go sit down, Arabella. I’ll handle the rest of breakfast.”

She looked between them both as the empty feeling in her chest began to grow. “What is it? What’s happened?” she asked, starting to grow worried. Catching the haunted looks on their faces, her hands started to shake, enough so that the contents of the bowl swished about, threatening to splash over the sides. Gently, taking the bowl and whisk, Remus gestured toward the table. “Sit down, Bella.”

Arabella surrendered and walked over to the table, taking the seat across from her brother. She listened carefully as Sirius spoke, relaying the story Harry told concerning the end of the task. The world grew cold and her vision narrowed, as if she were seeing and hearing the world through a long tunnel. The words, Voldemort has returned, kept running through her mind like a broken Muggle record.

Suddenly the stark cold of her ring earlier made sense, Severus felt Voldemort’s return. And her Harry, he had been there, gone through so much more than anyone should have to endure. Arabella closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself as she leaned forward in her chair. She bit her lip, suppressing the desire to cry once again.

“Bella?”

She felt Remus’ hand on her shoulder, and looked up at him. ‘Hmm?”

“Did you hear? Albus wants you to come back. He’s gathering the old crowd.”

She nodded then turned back to Sirius. “You are sure Harry is okay?” She asked, more concerned with her godson than anything Albus Dumbledore might want at the moment.

“Yes, Bella. He’s fine. A little shaken up, but he’s a strong kid, he can handle it.”

Suddenly, Arabella felt a sharp anger toward her brother. ‘A little shaken up? He’s a strong kid, he can handle it?’ He’s shouldn’t have to handle it. She found herself wondering if anyone was there to comfort him, support him, or was he forced to deal with yet another devastating experience on his own. Taking a calming breath, she looked back up at her brother and then to Remus.

“Tell Dumbledore that I will be glad to come back but that Harry comes with me. I will not leave him to those Muggles this summer. As a matter of fact, I am not leaving him to those Muggles, period.”

“Bella,” Sirius started, warningly.

“No, Sirius. It’s over. All the lies. All of it. Harry deserves better. He deserves a real home with people who love him for him. Thanks to those bastards at the Ministry, you can’t give him that.” Standing, Arabella, agitated, began to pace. Short-tempered due to anger induced adrenaline and lack of sleep, she bit out. “But I’ll be damned if I let them, anyone, stop me, especially now. If Voldemort’s used Harry’s blood like you said, all those wards around the Dursley’s won’t mean a damn thing; they are all based on the blood-relation.” Her arms gestured emphatically as she spoke.

“She’s right, Sirius.” Remus said as he placed three plates full of food on the table.

“I know,” was Sirius reply.

Arabella felt her ire begin to deflate. Pulling out her chair, she sat back down and began playing with her food. The quiet in the room began to grow uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on you two."

“It’s alright, Bella. It’s been a rough week all around. Sirius, we’ll need to head back to Hogwarts, which means we will not be able to stay much longer if we are to contact the others,” Remus commented.

Sirius nodded, taking a bit of food. Reaching out, he squeezed her hand. “I know. I’m sorry, Bella. I was hoping to spend some time with you.”

Arabella smiled, “We’ll have plenty of time, Sirius. I promise. Now, eat. You’re too skinny.”

Remus and Sirius both shook their heads, laughing. The three spent the rest of their time together catching up on the last few years. All too soon for Arabella, it was over. She hugged them both again as they said good-byes and watched them disapparate.

Walking back to the table, she picked up the wooden box to place the folded letters back inside. Closing the box, she walked back to her bedroom, thinking about Lily, James and all they had done to protect Harry. Sighing, she discarded her dressing gown and dropped down on her bed. Speaking aloud to Lily as if she might actually be able to hear, she said, “You were right. You said fifteen years. I didn’t like it, but I kept my promise, Lil. Let’s hope you were right about the rest of it.”

Lying back, she pulled the covers over her shoulders and let much needed sleep finally claim her.

June 29, 1995

Arabella coughed and sneezed while she brushed off the debris that seemed to have attached itself to her clothing as she climbed the stairs from her basement. She had spent the better part of her morning among the cobwebs and dust in her cellar, going through all the things she had accumulated over the years, determining what would go to Hogwarts and what would go into storage. The task had been tedious and dirty, but it did keep her mind focused on the job at hand.

As she rounded the landing on the first floor, she paused to glance around for any items she may have missed in her earlier hunt. Even after a week of packing, tying up loose ends and making preparations for her return to her former life, Arabella was still having difficulty wrapping her mind around it. She had spent fourteen years in this house, pretending to be something she wasn’t and all but forsaking her personal life to keep her promise to protect and care for Harry. A promise to Lily made the day Harry was born. Now, the first part of that promise was nearly done and it was time to look to the future and the second part of the promise.

But for all her determination to focus on the positives, Arabella’s mind and mood would periodically swing back to her worries about Harry, about Severus, about their reactions to remembering the truth of their relationship and about the state of her marriage. In turn, that started the circular “if this happens, I’ll do that” thinking that led to moments of great frustration. Ultimately, she would push the thoughts from her mind and focus on the things she could do now. She knew that until she could actually face her apprehensions head on, there was nothing she could do, aside from wallow in ifs and maybes. Arabella refused to wallow. She just wished that the waiting for the truth to out itself were over.

The oddest part of the whole contrived mess was that all immediately involved parties actually knew the truth; it was just hidden from them by date-triggered memory charms. The charms would dissolve tonight for Severus. Over the next few days, Sirius and even Harry would recover memories revealing Harry’s true parentage. Unfortunately, she didn’t think any of them would take the news that Harry was the biological son of Severus and not James Potter very well.

She knew Sirius would get over it with time, he would see past who Harry’s biological father was because he loved Harry and because he knew it hadn’t mattered all to James. It was Severus’ potential reaction that worried her the most. Severus had only agreed to the charm on the condition that it would be lifted once he and his son were safe and knowing that Harry would have two parents that loved him unconditionally. But that had been over a year before James and Lily had died and she knew Severus would have let nothing stand between him and his son if he had known the truth. She feared he’d see her withholding the information as a betrayal and a part of her agreed with the assessment. Over the past fifteen years, she’d often thought about telling him. On several occasions, she’d come close, only to let her fears win.

When the spells were cast, no one suspected that a year later James and Lily would be dead, Severus would be presumed dead and Harry would be on his way to live with Lily’s sister. Arabella had kept quiet in the beginning because of a letter from Dumbledore explaining that nothing would change. In the letter he had mentioned that even discovering that she or Severus shared a closer blood tie to Harry than Petunia would not change the Ministry’s custody decree. The Ministry had not forgotten her family ties to Sirius or Severus’ connection to Voldemort’s death eaters. As much as it broke her heart, she trusted Dumbledore’s opinion and did not wish Severus to endure more pain than he already did. Then as more time passed, and the situation remained the same, the harder the truth was to tell; especially when Arabella’s only means of communication were infrequent letters.

Months became years, and then suddenly a decade had passed and Harry was on his way to Hogwarts. At first, she had wanted to return with him. Bring the truth out into the open and hopefully put things right. Fate managed to intervene again, in the guise of Voldemort and Severus’ own fears and bitterness. Then it was the basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets. Then Sirius escaped and the last of her hopes for regaining custody of Harry vanished. Severus’ bitterness seemed to grow with each year, as well. Her only hope was that he would be able to accept the truth. Hopefully his willing participation in the memory spells and his own knowledge of the circumstances combined with Dumbledore’s assessment of the situation would allow him to understand why she had kept it all from him.

The sound of a car horn blaring outside her home brought Arabella out of her daze and she quickly turned back to the stairwell and began climbing the stairs to the second floor. There was still one last thing she needed to prepare before sending her belongs to Hogwarts.

In her room, she kneeled before a large cherry trunk with a rounded top. Gently, she caressed the wood, thinking of all the personal treasures that were stored within. Flipping the latches up, she opened the lid and glanced cursorily at neatly arranged contents. Carefully, she removed the top most items until she was able to remove a cloth wrapped box. Setting it aside, she started replacing all previously removed items save two; another cloth wrapped object and a black leather photo album.

Closing the chest, she fastened the latches and pulled out her wand, levitated it and took it down into the cellar and placed it with the other trunks and boxes destined for Hogwarts. Returning to her room, she looked at the three items she left on the floor. Crouching down and picked up the items and carried them to her bed. Once seated, she unwrapped the first item, a framed magically animated picture. In the picture, she and Severus were sitting on the sofa in their quarters, in Severus’ arms was Baby Harry. It had been taken on the last night that Severus’ had with his son before the memory charm had been cast.

Placing the picture on her nightstand, she turned to the next item. Unwrapping the cloth that protected a dark cherry wood box and removed the lid to reveal a brushed silver pensieve. Using her wand, she pulled up several memories of Harry over the years; sad and troubling ones like learning about the cupboard under the stairs or how neglected he often was. She pulled out good memories as well, like Harry asking for more stories about the adventures of “Sev, Bella and Lil.” She even pulled her memories of the times she contemplated telling Severus, going to him and break the charms, and memories of her letters to and from Dumbledore and all the reasons that, in the end, caused her to decide that it was better to wait. When she was finished, she replaced the lid and sealed the pensieve inside.

Taking the box and photo album, she went down to her kitchen and pulled out a quill and parchment. Quickly, she wrote a note to Severus, asking him, again, to come to her tonight. If, however, he was unable to, she asked him to use the pensive before retiring for the night. Signing it with love, she placed it on top the box, magically attaching it the lid.

Holding the box in one arm, she retrieved a folded cloth tarp from her counter and walked back down to the cellar. Placing the wooden box in the center of the stacked chests and boxes before spreading the tarp over them and watching as it magically clung to each exposed surface. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that there were still several hours before the prearranged time the portkey activated and took her belongings back to Hogwarts.

Sighing, she went back to her kitchen to make lunch before tackling her next project. She quickly made a sandwich and a cup of soup before sitting back down at the table. As she ate, her eyes drifted from the black photo album she had left there to the letter and gold locket sitting on the kitchen counter. She didn’t need to read the letter to know what it contained – word for word.

As it turned out, Dumbledore had anticipated her concerns and wishes before Sirius and Remus had arrived at her door. He’d fully agreed with her requests and sent two portkeys and two letters. One, on Hogwart’s stationary, had officially offered her a position on staff as school counselor. The second detailed the arrangements he had made to ensure Harry and the Dursley’s safety, which was why she hadn’t been surprised when that insufferable, horse-faced woman had shown up at her door and requested that she take Harry for two weeks. Arabella found it highly ironic that she could be so excited about winning a family vacation to a fantasyland like Euro Disney when she so disliked any form of real magic.

The brightest point in all of this for Arabella was the chance to spend some time with Harry. In the past, to protect him from the Dursley’s, she had been forced to disguise many memories of their time together. Each time, Harry had been fully aware of what she was doing. She had used the same time locks on Harry that had been used on the others, so the memory masking charms would soon break down and he would remember it all; every story and photo he had ever seen in her albums. She hoped that once the shock wore off, Harry would be happy with the revelations that he would realize his oldest dream, a family alibi in an unexpected form, was a possibility if he was willing to reach for it.

Finishing her sandwich, she carried the dishes to the sink before walking to the refrigerator. Glancing at her “To Do” list, she crossed off “Initial packing sent to Hogwarts” off and studied the remaining items. Taping her pen against the next item, she smiled brightly. Grabbing her purse from the counter, she pulled out her keys and left the house. A few hours at the local shopping center buying decent clothes not only for Harry, but Sirius and Remus as well, sounded like the perfect way to pass the remaining hours before Severus Should arrive.

Severus scanned the street he had appeared on, several blocks over from Privet Drive and quickly removed his robes, the only distinctively "wizard" clothing he wore. In the dark, the rest of his attire could easily pass if not closely inspected. Besides, unwanted attention would only hinder his mission. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be here and Dumbledore would likely have expressly forbid him from taking such a chance, had he known.

That was partly why he hadn’t mentioned Arabella’s request to the wizard; the second reason being his own inner force compelling him to do as she asked on several occasions -- to come to her on this night. He refused to let her down. Walking to the side door, he whispered a quick "Alohamora" to gain access to the darkened house. Once inside, he glanced around the kitchen he had entered and quickly spotted the living room and the stairwell just beyond.

At the top of the stairs, a faint light beneath one of the doors cast shadows along the wall and Severus found himself frozen, simply staring at the door. His wife was just on the other side that door. Severus could feel his heart begin to pound and an annoying quiver run through his body.as awareness washed over him. Could she still be in love with him after so long apart? Was he still in love with her? He realized, standing there, that he had adjusted to her absence, even grown accustomed to it. A chill ran through him at the thought that he didn’t know if he was still in love with her. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, stilling all emotions and burying them deep within his subconscious.

Walking down the hall, he pushed open the door. His eyes were immediately drawn to Arabella, the lamplight silhouetting her gaunt form through the old, worn nightshirt. He was glad that she had discarded her muggle disguise, as it provided him with the opportunity to study the "real" her. She was sitting on the side of the bed with her back to him, her dark hair hanging loosely down her back The outline of her figure revealed that she was thinner than he remembered--thinner than she should be. Unconsciously, Severus’ feet carried him closer.

As he approached the bed, he noticed her steady, even breathing and lack of awareness to his presence and realized she was deep within a memory spell. Climbing onto the bed behind her, he looked over her shoulder and spotted the picture of a much younger Harry than the one currently safe on Hogwart’s grounds. For a moment, he stared at the picture, caught between wondering what was so compelling about the memory it triggered that she would retreat into it knowing he was coming to her tonight and his curiosity over the thin, ragged appearance of the toddler in the photograph.

Absently, he began to run a long finger along the base of her neck. Arabella had always been extra sensitive to his touch in that spot and gently stroking the area had been his most common gesture of affection, especially when he needed to draw her from memory spells. He felt her tense in reaction and knew the sensation had reached through the spell. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her back to him so that he could reassure her. He needed her to know she was safe as the shock of being pulled from a memory wore off.

"Shh, Bella. It’s me." He whispered into her ear before leaning down to kiss her along the nape of her neck and down to her shoulder. He felt the subtle chills that ran through her body as she relaxed briefly into his embrace before shifting to face him. Severus’ arms tightened around her, supporting her body and keeping her close to him.

Arabella blinked several times before her eyes fixed on him. To look into her eyes after so many years was mesmerizing. He had almost forgotten how such warmth and depth of emotion could show so clearly through the icy, pale blue of her eyes. For him, it had always been like staring into a blazing fire, the generated warmth wrapping around him, burning off the chill while the firelight drove off his darkness. The fear that he wouldn’t be able to interpret what he saw in those eyes faded in the penetrating warmth of her gaze. He watched, taken aback, as shock gave way to profound relief.

He felt her hand gently caress his face, brushing away the few tears that had escaped unnoticed from his eyes. Moving closer, she wrapped her arms around him, embracing him tightly. After years devoid of any physical, much less intimate, contact his instinct to pull way was strong but overpowered by his awe of Arabella and her ability to open up to him and accept him after so long. He felt her tighten her arms around him briefly before she stepping away from him. The air seemed to chill around him as she moved away, a long buried piece of his heart crying out for her and the awakening feeling of belonging to and with someone else.

Rising from her place on the bed, she retrieved her dressing gown and fastened the belt before turning to face him again. He saw sadness and fear in her eyes and suddenly realized how affected she was by his fears and doubts. The tense silence between them was only broken by her slightly shaky voice.

"I didn’t think you were going to come."

"I told you I would," he replied. Even to his own ears, he sounded cold and distant and he silently reprimanded himself.

She looked at him for a moment, a pained expression in her eyes, as if she were waiting for him to say something else or trying to read his expression. For a brief instant, a profound sadness flashed across her expression, before she turned away from him completely. "I missed you, so much," she whispered.

"Bella, what’s this all about?" he asked in a gentler voice as he rose from the bed and approached her.

"We can go downstairs if you would be more comfortable," she said. He simply looked at her, his eyebrows rising at her delay tactic. Sighing, she continued, "What do you remember about Halloween in 1980?"

He looked at her, searching for any clue as to what this was all about. "Lily and James came to visit, they brought Harry with them…" his voice trailed off as he remembered the pictures on her bedside table. Walking back to the table, he grabbed the one picture he had only briefly glanced at before. Studying the picture, he realized he not only didn’t remember it being taken, he also noticed how, when he tried to remember, his mind would automatically drift to something else. He wouldn’t have even noticed the effect if Arabella hadn’t moved to stand beside him, holding his hand to the picture frame. Fear, confusion and anger seemed to overwhelm him as he realized a memory charm had been placed on him. "Why?" he demanded.

Arabella sat down on the bed, pulling him down beside her. Taking his hand, she wove their fingers together. "Harry was born on July 31. He was conceived on October 31, Halloween."

Her words tore through him, leaving behind a numbing shock as her meaning sunk in. Halloween ’79 had been the night he and Lily and been effectively forced to spend a night as lovers, to fool Voldemort, to stay alive. The very thought that Harry was his son caused aching emptiness to spread through his chest. He felt her hand against his cheek and instinctively turned toward the comfort it provided.

"I’m so sorry, Sev. When we placed the charm, Harry was only a few months old. All of us agreed, you included, that it was the best way to protect both you and Harry from Voldemort. There was no way we could anticipate what was going to happen." She paused for a moment, as if to give him time to absorb what she had said so far. Shifting next to him on the bed, she turned his head to face her. "Severus, please. I need you to trust me now. Please."

He saw her eyes brimming with tears and felt something give way within him. "Why Bella, why now?" he asked, his voice husky and thick with emotion.

"I set the charm to wear off as you sleep tonight. That’s why I wanted you to come. I promised you that we would face this together and, as things are, I can’t return to Hogwarts for a few more weeks." She hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain. "Will you stay here with me, Sev? Please?"

Severus could only nod his agreement, unable to speak for fear of succumbing to the emotions that were beginning to overwhelm him. She drew up next to him, wrapping him in her embrace. As naturally as if fourteen years had not passed, his arms went around her small frame. After a few minutes, Severus separated from her, and rose to his feet. Using their clasped hands, he drew her to her feet in front of him. Letting his hands drop to her waist, he studied her, trying to judge what would she would do or say next. She smiled at him, but the happiness that sparkled in her eyes was tainted with worry.

"You need to sleep, Sev," she said, simply, before her unsteady hands began to make quick work of undoing his vest, cravat and dress shirt. He looked down on her, unable to resist raising an eyebrow and tease her with the unspoken question.

"What? You planed on sleeping in all these clothes you insist on wearing?" she asked, her voice teasing and sarcastic as she turned and carefully placed each meticulously folded item on her dresser. By the time she turned back to him, he had already stripped off his pants, socks and shoes, leaving him standing in boxers and an undershirt.

Arabella took his hand and led him over to the bed. Turning down the covers, she crawled in and waited for him to settle himself. He stiffened when she drew close to him, only to relax under her gentle touch and the warm feeling that flowed into him from her caressing fingers. He could hear her whispering to him as his eyelids grew heavy and his thoughts seemed to become calm and quiet. He was vaguely aware of two things as he slipped into sleep; that one, Arabella was using a sleep inducing spell to lull him and two, that no matter what rift or expanse separated them due to fourteen years spent apart, he would find some way to bridge it. He needed and wanted her too much to let her go without a fight, even if the fight was with himself.

The ride from King’s Cross to Number 4 Privet Drive was unusually quiet. The further the got from the station, the more uneasy and alone Harry felt. Occasionally, he would catch his uncle glaring at him through the rear view mirror, but he never actually said anything. That, in and of itself, was enough to unnerve him. The silence that pervaded the car’s atmosphere began to take its toll on Harry as his mind wandered back to the conversation he had overheard between Dumbledore, Sirius and Snape. He couldn’t help but worry about Sirius and wish that he hadn’t had to leave to find the “old crowd.” Even though he felt selfish for even thinking it, he wished that Sirius had chosen to stay close to him instead of following Dumbledore’s wishes.

When they pulled into the driveway, Uncle Vernon snapped at him to ‘hurry up and get his stuff put away’ and then waited impatiently as Harry pulled his trunk from the boot. He had just managed to get the trunk out when the front door flew open and a trimmer but still husky Dudley came bounding out, looking far happy and excited to see his cousin Harry. Grabbing Hedwig’s cage in his free hand, Harry began walking toward the house and tried to prepare himself for the onslaught of Dudley’s usual abuse. Much to his surprise, Dudley merely stepped out of his way.

“Hurry up! You’ll make us late.” Dudley whined.

“We’ll be leaving in a minute, Duds. We have plenty of time” Vernon said as he turned to Harry and snarled, “Boy, take your trunk in the house and put it away. And hurry up.” Harry simply nodded before he dragged his trunk into the house, not wanting to earn his uncle’s displeasure so early in the holiday. As he approached the cupboard door, his Aunt Petunia came down the stairs carrying one of Dudley’s old duffle bags. He had no sooner gotten his trunk wedged into the small cupboard when his Aunt walked up behind him and forcibly turned him to face her. She stood there silently, looking him up and down, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of concern flash in her eyes before they hardened into the familiar disdain he was used to seeing.

“We have won a trip to EuroDisney." Harry's felt a flicker of excitement before it was dashed as his aunt continued, "Mrs. Figg has agreed to take you and that bird of yours while we are away. I have packed a bag for you. I expect you to return here daily and do your chores. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, “How long will you be gone?” He had tried to keep his sudden feelings of disappointment from coming through in his voice, but failed miserably. It seemed like his bad luck was continuing to hold out; Dudley gets EuroDisney and two parents that want him and all Harry got was the cabbage-smelling cheek pincher.

“Two weeks, maybe three,” she replied haughtily. “Now come along, we will drop you off at Mrs. Figg’s.”

Harry felt his heart sink as she turned and walked out the door. She waited intolerantly as he followed, then pulled out a key and locked the door behind them. He climbed into the back seat, pulling Hedwig’s cage in beside him and waited while Dudley stuffed the three large suitcases into the trunk. Staring down at the ratty old duffle bag, a sense of being unwanted and worthless overwhelmed him. As soon as the car pulled up to Mrs. Figg’s home, Uncle Vernon was out of the car and pulling him, along with Hedwig’s cage, up to the old woman’s door and pushing the doorbell several times, impatiently waiting for the door to open. Harry looked down at his feet while his uncle began to grumble and pound on the door.

“I’m coming.”

The muffled sound of the old woman calling from somewhere in her house partially calmed his uncle. A few seconds later, the door flew open to reveal a huffing, flustered grey-haired lady with an odd set of pale blue eyes.

“Why, Vernon,” she said, her voice definitely more sarcastic than usual. “How nice to see you.” Harry had the definite impression that the woman didn’t particularly like his uncle.

“And Harry! Come in, Come in!” she cried gleefully, just before reaching out to pinch his cheeks and then ushering him inside her home. “Good-bye Vernon. Enjoy your trip,” she said as she shut the door on the sputtering man’s face.

“You just shut the door in his face.” Harry said, staring at her with round, surprised eyes while he gingerly rubbed one of his aching cheeks.

“Sure did, Harry-bean. Felt damn good, too. Never did like them much.” She smiled at him. “Now let’s see what we can do for that owl of yours. Hedwig, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but how did you know? And did you just call me Harry-bean?”

The plump old woman ignored his questions, taking Hedwig’s travel cage as she walked into her living room. He followed her and watched curiously as she glancing around her living room. Finally, her eyes fell on a wooden high-back chair. “Yes, I think this will do nicely,” she commented, pulling a wand from her sleeve. Aiming at the chair, the old woman uttered a spell and the chair morphed into large perch. “There, that’s better.” She said as she opened the cage allowing Hedwig to fly to her new perch.

“You’re her . . . Arabella Figg, aren’t you?” Harry asked

“Where did you learn my first name?” she inquired, seemingly surprised.

Harry looked at her for a moment, before diverting his eyes. He wasn’t sure why, but the look in her eyes gave him a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was unlike anything Harry could remember feeling, yet similar to how he felt when Mrs. Weasley would greet him; like she wanted to wrapping him protectively in her arms and shelter him like she would her own child. It wasn't a bad feeling, per say, just unsettling. In all of Harry's memory, he couldn't remember having someone care for him in such a manner until he went to Hogwart's and even then, demonstrations of affection were still very rare in his life.

“Harry?” she asked again, her voice soft and curious. There was something in the tone or the simple sound of her voice at that moment that compelled him to answer.

“I overheard Professor Dumbledore talking to my godfather and Professor Snape in the infirmary. He thought I was still sleeping. He was telling Si… my godfather to find you.”

For a brief instance, Mrs. Figg’s seemed to regard him closely. Then she smiled and her eyes flashed brightly. “Oh, I think that old wizard knew very well you were awake. I swear that man is cunning enough to be a Slytherin,” she chuckled and shook her head, before making a final statement, “I think he was just trying to prepare you.”

“I don’t understand. Prepare me for what?” Harry asked, now completely confused.

“Well, I'm guessing Dumbledore thought that you would less likely to outright hex me if you thought I was someone he trusted and that Sirius and Severus knew me. Now, why don’t you take your things upstairs and get settled. I made up the same room you usually use. I will just make sure Hedwig has what she needs and come get you when dinner is ready.”

Harry nodded and started to make his way to the stairs, feeling a bit better about having to stay with Mrs. Figg. At least he wouldn’t have to put up with being called a freak by his family for a few weeks.

Halfway up the stairs, he heard her call out, “Oh Harry, there are several presents waiting for you on the bed. Go ahead and open them. Think of them as belated 2nd through 14th birthday gifts.”

Harry just stood there, unsure of what to say or do. The old woman had bought him presents? “Um, okay. Thank You, Mrs. Figg,” he finally called back. He quickly climbed the remaining stairs and opened the door to the guest room and turning on the light. Even expecting to find gifts, the sight of twelve wrapped presents stacked neatly on the bed left Harry dumbfounded. He dropped the duffle bag Aunt Petunia had given him just inside the threshold, forgetting it the moment it hit the floor. Reverently, his eyes scanned the mound of packages. Reaching out, he lifted the envelope that sat on top.

Dear Harry,

I know the past few weeks have been difficult for you. I wish I could have been there to help you. I have watched you grow up and I want you to know I am very proud of you.

I love you, Harry-bean.

There are many things you will learn about yourself in the coming weeks No matter what comes, Harry, you won’t face it or anything else alone.

Your Godmother,

Arabella

Harry was stunned. Old Mrs. Figg was his godmother! The idea left him stunned, not to mention extremely confused and a little hurt. If she was his godmother, why didn’t she take custody of him? He had known her, apparently, all his life and she’d never said anything! He sat, dejectedly, for several minutes just staring at the letter in his hand, while a small voice in his head tried to convince him that maybe there was a good reason, maybe they had felt he was safer with the Dursley’s. Besides, at least she had moved to be closer to him.

Glancing at the pile of gifts, he hesitantly reached for one. He didn’t quite feel right opening presents at the moment, but Mrs. Figg had wanted him to open them and he didn’t want to insult the woman. He gingerly pulled the paper off the box and lifted the lid to reveal several new knit shirts, plain like t-shirts, but more stylish like Harry had seen on television. He moved on to the next box and then the next; by the time he got to the last box he already had several additional shirts, sweaters, jeans, slacks, shoes, toiletries, socks and everything else imaginable.

Reaching for the last gift, he very carefully removed the paper, folding in neatly and placed with the rest of the wrapping paper. Before he could open the box, Harry suddenly found himself distracted by the sound of Mrs. Figg’s soft chuckling coming from the doorway behind him.

“Your father used to drive me nuts whenever I gave him a gift. He would do the exact same thing," she said as she entered the room, carrying a small chest.

“I open presents like my dad?” he asked, curious about the offered information as he pulled of the lid to reveal another pair of slacks and a nice button down shirt.

Arabella looked at him questioningly, as if she were weighing what she would say next before she smiled sadly at him. “Yes, Harry, you do. Here, I have one last thing for you.”

She set the chest on the floor and pulled out her wand. Harry watched as the small chest grew into a large wooden chest with a curved top. “It’s not really a present. Everything in here has always belonged to you. I just been holding onto it until I could give it back.”

Harry jumped off the bed and moved quickly over to stand before the chest, eager to see what was inside.

“And that is definitely the Lily in you coming out.” Mrs. Figg laughed.

Harry looked at her questioningly before dropping to his knees in front of the chest. For a short time, Harry forgot his worries at the prospect of finally having tangible proof that he was once very much wanted and loved. Carefully, he pushed the lid, finding the chest half-filled with treasures of the past. Reaching for one of the bigger boxes on the top, he lifted it from the chest and opened it. He stared, eyes wide with awe at the contents, feeling as if he had found something precious he hadn’t know was missing in the first place. Reaching inside, Harry pulled out a black fluffy plush dog. Harry chuckled when he saw the collar that was around the toy’s neck; it read “Snuffles.” For a few minutes, he just ran his hands over the worn faux fur of the animal, trying to imagine what his life was like back when this dog was his constant companion.

After several minutes, he laid the toy aside and turned back to the box. Gently, he lifted out a baby’s quilt. Unfolding it carefully, he laid it out in front of him, examining the details. He realized it was quite small, about the size one would use in a crib. It was off-white in color, trimmed with a navy border and very soft to the touch. In the center of the blanket was a large appliqué lily with a several small purple flowers surrounding it. In each of the four corners were appliqués – starting clockwise in the top left corner – a stag, a black panther, a wolf and large black dog.

“The toy was a gift from Sirius and your favorite as a baby. You never went anywhere without it. The quilt Lily made for you before you were born. I was able to recover them both from Godric’s Hollow.”

He ran his hand over each flower and animal, mentally filing away his curiosity about whom the unfamiliar flower and animal represented. He suspected one would be Mrs. Figg, if she was his godmother. Folding the quilt carefully, he placed it back in the box along with the toy and replaced the lid. For a minute he just studied the rest of chest’s contents, his mind racing with questions.

“Are you really my Godmother?” he asked in a small voice as he finally turned and faced her. Her penetrating gaze made him feel like his very soul was being exposed to her. Finally, she smiled and Harry was amazed at how bright her eyes became, as they twinkled not unlike Professor Dumbledore’s.

“Yes, Harry. I am your godmother.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? Will I…” he asked hurriedly, half scared of the answer.

She held up her hand to stop the questions. Her smile turned forlorn as she reached out to brush a stand of hair away from his eyes. “When you were old enough to understand, I did tell you. We had a lot of fun together, you and I. However, thanks to your Aunt and Uncle’s attitude, I thought it best to temporarily mask those memories, to hide them so to speak. The charm will wear of around your fifteenth birthday or if you like, I can remove them tonight.”

Harry just stared at her, dumbfounded. He had always found it unnerving that everyone seemed to know more about him than he did himself. I was even more unsetting, not to mention confusing, to know that he knew more about himself than he thought he did.

“Harry, why don’t you take that black leather case, the one tied up with a red ribbon? Grab that, and we can go down to dinner. We can talk and after dinner I will show you how to activate the book, okay? ”

He simply nodded, beginning to feel overwhelmed and uneasy again. He watched as Mrs. Figg stood and started to walk out of the room. Taking his cue, Harry took the black leather case and followed Mrs. Figg to the kitchen. He just hoped that whatever she made for dinner, it didn’t involve cabbage.

As had become his habit over the last few days with Arabella, Harry sat on his bed and pulled out the black leather photo album that his mother had made for Arabella and that she, in turn, had given him. Taking his wand from the bedside table, he tapped the cover once and whispered, "Walk with me," then watched as the picture of his parents, godparents and Severus Snape that was fixed in the center of the book faded and a gold inscription emerged.

Walk a Mile with Me

by Henry Van Dyke

O who will walk a mile with me

Along life's merry way?

A comrade blithe and full of glee,

Who dares to laugh out loud and free,

And let his frolic fancy play,

Like a happy child, through the flowers gay

That fill the field and fringe the way

Where he walks a mile with me.

And who will walk a mile with me

Along life's weary way?

A friend whose heart has eyes to see

The stars shine out o'er the darkening sea

And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,-

A friend who knows, and dares to say,

The brave, sweet words that cheer the way

Where he walks a mile with me.

With such a comrade, such a friend,

I fain would walk till journey's end,

Through summer sunshine, winter rain,

And then?- Farewell, we shall meet again!

Arabella –

Thank you for being our friend.

Lily & James

Harry smiled as he ran his hands over the words before opening the album and slowly flipping through the images. Arabella had told him many stories associated with the pictures and that, accompanied by his gradually returning memories, gave him a feeling of connection and belonging he had never really felt before.

A soft knock on the door drew his attention.

"Harry? Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Arabella entered the room and moved to sit across from him on the bed. She smiled slightly when she saw the album. "You know there are still a lot of stories I could tell you, although I think it would be better to let Sirius tell you some of them."

Harry looked at her for a moment, unsure if he should ask the one question that had been bothering him for the past several days. Finally, he decided he preferred to know.

"Why didn’t you take me?" He tried had to keep the sadness from his voice. He knew he had been unsuccessful, even before he saw the look of sorrow in her eyes.

"I tried, Harry. Fought the Ministry for you every step of the way, but with no support there wasn’t much I could do. Even Dumbledore thought you were better off with your aunt than with me." Arabella’s words were softly spoken but the sadness and lingering bitterness were obvious. She paused for a minute, fidgeting slightly.

"Actually, that’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you before you went to sleep. I am worried that your memories aren’t returning as cohesively as I hoped. So there are some things I want to tell you before you start remembering them in parts or out of order. Promise to hear me out?"

Harry just nodded at her question, his trepidation growing. Arabella definitely seemed nervous and it was obvious to Harry that what ever she had to say was major. "Where to start?" she asked herself before directing a question to him, "Do you remember the stories I told you when you were little? About the special little boy?"

Harry just nodded.

"They weren’t just stories, Harry. They're based in the truth," she paused for a minute, "James and Lily were you Mum and Dad and they loved you very much – unconditionally. You were James’ baby boy, heart and soul, but James wasn’t your biological father, Harry. James knew it and it didn’t matter to him. Not before you were born and not for a moment after. Don’t ever doubt his love for you." Harry felt his pulse escalate and his eyes grow wide. Her words were bringing his world down around him and it terrified him.

Arabella extended her hand to him and he grasped it grateful for an anchor in the storm. He felt a warm calm spread though him through the empathic connection Arabella provided with skin-to-skin contact. "Who?" Harry managed to ask, terrified of the answer he had already begun to suspect.

"Severus," she replied simply, the word falling easily from her lips.

"No!" he exclaimed, "It can’t be. James is my dad! He loved me! Everyone says I look just like him!" Harry fought for control; his hand reflexively tightening around Arabella’s as he tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to start crying like a small child, but the knot growing in his chest was making it very difficult. "You told me my father loved me. Snape hates me! He can’t be my father." Harry finally bit out.

"Severus does not hate you, Harry. What he feels for you confuses and scares him. He has never been one to deal with vulnerability well. Yes, he is angry and bitter about the fact that we are both here and have been kept from him. Unfortunately those emotions have been directed toward you. He too had his memories suppressed. He didn’t remember that you are his son until just before you left Hogwarts this year. And don’t forget the other part of why he treats you like he has. There are Death Eaters out there who wanted to kill you even before Voldemort’s return." She paused for a moment reaching to take his free hand before continuing. "Sometimes, Harry, it’s easier to convince yourself you don’t care about someone than it is to watch a person you love suffer day in and day out and be never being able to help them or stop their pain. Can you understand that?"

Harry nodded, even though he wasn’t quite sure he did understand, or even if he wanted to at that moment. It was a hard thing for Harry to imagine, that his greasy git of a Potions Master, the one man who seemed to delight in tormenting him or looking for reasons to expel him could actually care about him; especially as something other than a student.

"He doesn’t just care about you, Harry. He loves you." She sighed and he figured she picked up on his disbelief.

Unconsciously, Harry pulled back from her but felt an unusual sense of loss when she pulled her hand away from him, eliminating any chance of accidental contact. Harry felt Arabella’s eyes watching him as if she was looking for a sign he understood. His eyes strayed to her hands clasped in her lap and he asked cautiously. "Is that how you know he loved me?"

"Loves you, Harry. And yes, partly it is how I know. However, it was very plain to see if you had the opportunity. Sometimes, when you were an infant, I would take you overnight to give James and Lily a chance to relax or unwind. Every time I woke up in the middle of the night I would find Sev sitting by your crib watching you sleep. You had him wrapped around your little finger, even when he knew you only as the son of his friend."

Harry continued to stare at her hands, afraid to look up, afraid to let her see the tears he fought to repress. He wasn’t at all sure why what she said affected him so deeply and he definitely wasn’t prepared to examine the reason too closely just yet. They sat in silence for a minute while Harry fought to control his emotions. Confusion and anger surged through him anew as a new question occurred to him.

"Then how can I look so much like James?" Harry asked, in a last ditch effort to deny the revelation.

"Are you sure you want to hear this now?"

Harry nodded. He didn’t think he could stand not knowing.

"When you were three months old, Lily and James brought you to Hogwarts where Severus and I worked. We told Severus that night that you were his son. You were left in our custody for several days while we worked on a plan to protect you and Severus. We all knew the only way to protect you from Voldemort was to make sure no one knew your true parentage. It broke Severus heart to have to let you go, but he would do anything to protect us."

Arabella paused again. He could feel her watching him and looked up to see both love and sadness in her eyes. "It took us about a week to finalize all the preparations. Lily perfected a series of charms that would make you remind people of James. James and Sirius used a series of transfigurations, changed your hair texture, skin tone and a few other details. Severus made two potions; one that would link your blood to James' and a second that would lock or extend the charms and transfigurations for several years. Both potions will start to wear off in the next few weeks."

Harry just sat there in a stunned silence. Slowly, a sense of panic and anger began to build in him. Everything about his life was a lie, even the person who stared back at him in the mirror each morning. "If Severus is my father, than why didn’t you use that to take me away from the Dursley’s?" His words were spat out, laced with his bitterness and uncertainty.

"I wish that had been possible, Harry. When you were first placed with the Dursley's I, and the rest of the wizarding world, believed Severus was dead. By the time I learned he was alive, a year had past. Even if I had written to Severus and told him the truth, Fudge was Minister of Magic and he would never have permitted us to have custody of you. You were already an icon and he would never have allowed you to be raised by a person he believed was a death eater."

Harry leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes wishing he were anybody but the Boy-Who-Lived. He wished that for once something would just work for him instead of against him. Harry felt the bed shift as Arabella leaned over and she kissed him on the forehead. The tingling warmth soothed him as much as her whispered words, "I am here if you need me."

Harry felt comforted and safe by Arabella’s gesture and regretted his outburst and the bitterness he had directed toward her just moments earlier. Bella, who had done more for him in the past few days than most others had done in a lifetime, definitely didn't deserve to be treated like that. She was the one figure that spanned his entire memory and each day made him more certain she would always be in his life.

"You should try and get some sleep." Arabella said softly as she stroked a few random hairs from his face.

"I don’t think I could," Harry replied, despondently. So many thoughts and conflicting emotions swirling within him he truly doubted he could sleep. He didn’t think he could relax enough or find any peace in his mind to turn off his anxiety long enough to sleep.

"Lay back and close your eyes." Arabella said and Harry followed the directions. She sat beside him on the bed and gently began to stroke his hair again. He felt a warm tingling, similar to what he had felt earlier begin. Arabella began to sing; her smooth, rich voice sent warmth flowing over his body.

"…Before you go to sleep

Say a little prayer

Every day in every way

It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

Out on the ocean sailing away

I can hardly wait

To see you come of age

But I guess we'll both just have to be patient

'Cause it's a long way to go

A hard row to hoe

Yes it's a long way to go

But in the meantime

Before you cross the street

Take my hand

Life is what happens to you

While you're busy making other plans …"

He felt his limbs grow heavy and realized she was easing him into a deep sleep. As he drifted into darkness, he heard another voice join hers. Something in him recognized Lily's sweet tones. He felt the world around him become still, his mind become calm as love and assurance wrapped around him like dark, warm cocoon until he surrendered to his need for sleep.

======================================

"I hate you!! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t make me go back there! I never want to see you again!" He shouted tearfully before running toward the front door. A gentle hand on his shoulder restrained him, forcing him to turn around and face the woman with long black hair and watery, pale blue eyes.

"Harry. I know you don’t understand. I wish there was a way for you to stay with me always. Remember what I told you before? About the funny old man who lives in the big castle? He says it is still too dangerous to take you home. Believe me, I would take you and go in a second if I could."

The pain, fear and anger he had felt just moments early ebbed away as she spoke in soft, fluid voice and gentle brushed away his tears. A warm, secure feeling settled over him and he stepped closer to her and into a waiting embrace.

"Can’t father make him let me come home?" he asked in a small feeble voice that was muffled against her shoulder.

"No, Harry-bean. Your father is as trapped by this as we are. If it was safe, nothing on earth would stop him from coming for you. He would do anything to keep us safe. He loves us very much."

"I love him, too, Bella. You’ll send him my letter, right?"

"Yes, Harry."

"You’re going to make me forget now, aren’t you?" He asked sadly, his arms tightening around the woman’s neck.

"You know I have to, but it won’t be permanent. You will remember everything someday, I promise."

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you, too, my Harry-bean. Now close your eyes and imagine its very dark, black like night. Now think of all the cats and pictures, pictures of cats, that’s a good boy."

He felt her separate herself from him, standing him straight by the door and say "Personatus Memoriter "

Harry slowly opened his eyes, feeling extremely guilty for how he had treated Arabella and expecting to find himself in his old cupboard. It took him several minutes to realize he was actually back in his room at Arabella’s and that it was seven years later. Arabella had told him not to force the memories, just to let them come. So that is what Harry tried to do. He had recovered a number of memories in the last two days, many of the ones from his earliest years were hazy. But two nights ago, the memories suddenly became clearer. He distinctly remembered drawing pictures for Arabella, Sirius, and his mum, dad and father. Until last night and his talk with Arabella, he’d thought that the pictures for "dad" and "father" had been for the same person.

Even knowing that Severus was his father didn’t help ease his worries. In all her stories, Arabella had told him about his far-away father, who loved him more than his own life. Even when he didn’t consciously remember, there had been a part of him that clung to those stories as a lifeline, a dream that would someday come true. He couldn’t shake the fear that he was right and Arabella wrong, that Severus Snape most definitely didn’t love him. The man barely tolerated Harry’s presence!

Throwing the covers off, Harry climbed out of his bed. Putting on his robe, he secured his wand and headed down to the kitchen. He smiled as he slowly walked down the hall glancing at the pictures and portraits that lined the walls; he was glad the only similarities between Arabella's home and the Dursley's was the house floor plan. He was halfway to the stairs when he heard Arabella’s startled yelp and immediately ran down the stairs. He heard Arabella’s second exclamation midway down the stairs and it stopped him in his tracks.

"Sirius Black! You scared me half-to-death!! What are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore sent us, he thought we might come in handy." Sirius chuckled in reply. "You’re looking decidedly better."

He heard Bella "humph" and what sounded like Sirius being smacked up the back of his head. "By us, I take it Remus is nearby?" Arabella asked. Harry wished he could have seen the exchange as started back down the stairs on the way to the kitchen.

"Yeah, he is checking the wards, he should be here in a minute. How’s Harry?" Sirius said, his voice was highly colored with concern at the last. "I hated to leave him after the tournament, Bell. He looked so lost and scared. And I …" Sirius stopped mid-sentence.

"And you what, Siri?" Harry heard Bella ask as he rounded the foot of the stairs. Her voice was gentle and caring. It was a voice Harry had become familiar with over the past few days, the "you can tell me anything" voice that seemed to compel you to spill your troubles at her feet.

"I was afraid I was going to lose him, that something was going to take him away again. Its just so …" Sirius paused again and Harry stopped, standing just on the other side of the kitchen door, ready to push it open. The level of emotion he had heard in the man’s voice unnerved him a bit, still not used to open affection directed toward him. There was also the fact that Sirius had seemed so eager to be fighting and working to bring down Voldemort that Harry hadn’t thought he really wanted to be doing anything else, much less taking care of him.

"Nothing is going to take him from you, Siri." Arabella responded in that same reassuring voice.

"Severus."

The way his godfather bit out the name sent a flare of alarm through him and he stepped back from the door. He dropped his quaking hands to his sides as a new fear emerged from the depths of Harry’s mind. Would Sirius’ hatred for Snape transfer to Harry now? Would Sirius stop caring for him now that he wasn’t a living extension of James Potter?

"The memory charm wore off." Arabella responded softly. "Does Remus know?"

"Yes. I was pretty upset when I woke up. I had to tell him."

Sirius voice was still bitter and just reinforced his fears. Harry tried to concentrate on his breathing, not wanting to cry now over the loss of a foolish daydream. In the last few days he had discovered more about his life and family than had dreamed, he found a place he felt he belonged and for one brief day he’d been allowed to believe in a childish dream that there was at least people out there who could and would take him away from at least one hellish aspect of his life and help protect him from the other. But all that crashed and burned with the realization that the one person with the power to give him his dream was the one person who wanted nothing to do with him and another may no longer want any part of him either.

"I am glad you told him, he deserves to know. You know it doesn’t change anything, Siri. He’s still Harry, he’s still your godson and he still needs you."

Arabella’s voice was soft, calming and reassuring, drifting through the door, but Harry barely registered it.

"Eavesdropping? Shame on you Harry!"

Startled, Harry jumped backward, his body smacking against the wall with a thud, wand drawn to face the person who had called his name. Standing before him was the smiling, if slightly ragged figure of Remus Lupin. Taking a deep breath, Harry lowered his wand and tried to calm himself. He heard footsteps and the door behind him swing open and knew without looking that Sirius and Arabella were behind him.

"Morning, Harry!" Arabella said. He diverted his eyes as she turned him to face her and kissed him gently on the cheek in greeting. Harry noticed her smile turn to a frown from the corner of his eye. In a soft voice, she whispered to him, "what’s wrong?"

"Nothing. I just heard you and Sirius." Harry said, still avoiding looking at her, even though he knew he wasn’t hiding anything from her as she read his emotions when she touched him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod slightly before moving past him to greet Remus. Looking up, Harry suddenly found himself face to face with his godfather.

"Good Morning, Sirius."

"Good Morning, Harry. Sleep well?" Sirius said jovially, acting as if everything was perfectly normal.

"Yes. Well, except for the dream about telling Arabella I hate her and that she’s a mean liar." Harry responded as he took his usual seat at the table and fiddled with the napkin instead of looking Sirius in the eye.

"No worries, Harry. You were only seven, after all. Besides, the look on Dumbledore’s face when he showed up that night to help repair some of the damage your accidental magic did to the wards was quite priceless." Arabella commented as she re-entered the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast. Harry immediately got up and began setting the table. As he worked, Harry noticed both Sirius and Remus studying Arabella carefully as she placed juice on the table for everyone. He turned toward her, curious to see what caused their obvious concern. Instead of the old woman he was expecting, he saw a tallish woman with long dark hair.

"Arabella?" he asked, shocked and amazed at the transformation.

"Different, huh?" she asked, smiling almost laughing.

Harry nodded, not sure what else to say.

"So, what do you think?" She asked, her teasing expression for a moment reminding him of Sirius.

Looking at her closely, Harry decided she was pretty enough, but not in a usual way. He couldn’t tell if her hair was black or just dark brown; it seemed to depend on how the light hit it. She had an oval face with well-proportioned features, high cheekbones and full lips. Her nose was straight, didn’t hook or turn up, but it had a small bump mid-way down. She was tall and skinny, too skinny in Harry’s opinion. She smiled and laughed at his obvious inspection and that was when he decided she was truly pretty. The way her features expressed her joy was amazing; it made Harry want to smile and laugh with her. Everything about her seemed to light up and her features softened.

"Are you two, umm, related?" Harry asked sheepishly as he continuing to set the table.

Of all the things Harry would have expected as an answer, it was not Remus’ chuckle-induced coughing, or Bella’s wide eyes and quirky smile.

"Forget to tell our godson something, Bell?" Sirius asked.

"Umm, guess so!" Arabella replied, barely containing her own laugh.

Before Arabella could continue, a tapping at the window drew Harry’s attention. He smiled at the sight of a very small, hyperactive owl, all thoughts of his previous question vanishing for the moment. Opening the window, he let the bouncing-ball of an owl into the room and quickly untied the letter attached to his leg before letting the small bird off, knowing it would find Hedwig’s perch, food and water on its own.

Quickly taking his seat at the table, he opened the letter and read,

Dear Harry,

How are you? Hope the muggles are treating you okay. Listen, I asked Mum about Arabella Figg, thinking she might know who she is and all. She got kind of upset at the name, told me to leave well enough alone. Then walked off mumbling about letting the dead rest and only causing more pain. But since you said Dumbledore wanted Sirius to find her, I am figuring there is more to what happened than Mum knew, so I did some investigating. Turns out she went to school with your parents and the Marauders. According to one of Mum’s yearbooks, she’s actually Arabella Figg Black, as in the twin sister of Sirius Black! Can you believe it?

The really, creepy thing, though, is the picture of her and Snape in Bill’s yearbook from first year. There is a side caption that just identifies her as the professor’s late wife! Yuck! I can’t believe anyone would marry the greasy git! I think Bill knew her, too, cause he got really upset when he found me looking for information about her.

Oh, yeah, Bill’s not going back to Egypt. I overheard him telling to Mum and Dad last night.

Write back so I know you're okay!

Ron

Harry read the letter twice before placing it on the table, looking back and forth between Arabella and Sirius. He did his best to mask his expression and watched as Arabella and Sirius both began to look concerned.

"Is Ron alright? What does he say?" Sirius asked, reaching for the letter. Remus, however, grabbed it first.

Arabella came around the table to stand beside him. Harry looked up at her with as serious an expression as he could muster. "I am so sorry, Arabella," he said. He could see Remus trying to keep a straight face.

"Sorry? Harry, for what?" she asked, her voice growing more concerned.

"That you had to grow up with numbskull over there." Harry said gesturing to Sirius.

Harry smiled as he watched Bella’s concern crumble into laughter. He laughed himself as she leaned down to hug him and ruffled his hair. "So what else does that letter tell you?" She asked as she moved over to the stove to check on the breakfast that was magically cooking itself.

"Not much," Harry replied, "just that some poor woman had the misfortune to marry our greasy git of a Potions Master." His remarks earned a snort from both Sirius and Remus. Harry realized that both, however, noticed the subtle discomfort in his voice and individually offered him a supportive look.

Sirius leaned over toward him, whispering, "Don’t worry, Harry. The greasy hair won’t last two seconds around Arabella. Give her a few weeks and she’ll have him wrapped around her little finger again. I can guarantee he’ll be sporting de-greased hair and actual color in his wardrobe. Just you wait. It’s really quite humorous."

"Just you wait, Sirius Black," Bella said, throwing looks at Sirius and Remus. "You two, upstairs and to the showers. Harry, can you get the clean clothes for them from the laundry and then show them where they can clean up?"

Harry quickly rose to do her bidding, grabbing the bags of clothes he had helped prepare, as well as some clean towels. He led both of Arabella’s victims from the kitchen and up the stairs, hearing them grumbling as the walked behind him. "Really, guys, its not that bad. Bella’s got good taste and she thought of everything, including underwear."

He laughed at the groan of embarrassment that issued from both men. Harry realized then that maybe he hadn’t lost his dream, after all. Sirius wasn’t showing any signs that he would reject him; actually it was the opposite. And there was that teasing display in the kitchen. Harry didn’t remember ever feeling quite so comfortable; it reminded him of how he'd often witnessed the Weasley's behave. For the first time, Harry felt like he had a home, a family of his own and the future didn’t seem quite so scary. He just hoped Voldemort stayed quiet for the rest of the summer.

July 7, 1995

Severus poured another jar of potions ingredients into the fire, tossing the vial itself into a neutralizing potion. His annual inventory and purging of stale stock was familiar and he found the process soothing; it helped him feel connected to the world. He had spent the days after seeing Bella and learning the truth, feeling isolated from the rest of existence in a way that seemed abnormal, even for him. Unlike his usual self-isolation, this experience left him feeling set apart, stranded across an unbridgeable chasm from the rest of the world. At times he had felt trapped in a single point in time, in the moments when Bella revealed the truth and when he recovered his memories. He watched the rest of the world continue with their lives while he struggled to find a way to accept what had happened and move past the moment and forward with his life.

Only in the last day or two he began to assimilate the knowledge. Slowly, his sense of disconnection faded, leaving in him in an emotional state that was unpredictable. Sometimes his state went to violent extremes. His lack of control often left him unnerved. As a result, Severus had taken to avoiding everyone as much as possible. Much like he had done nearly fifteen years earlier. It seemed that Dumbledore was the only one who had noticed and had sought him out regularly. The elder wizard’s prodding was rapidly becoming an unwelcome but unavoidable part of Severus’ daily life.

A soft knock on the door drew Severus attention from the rote yet satisfying motions of purging his stale stock. Ignoring the sound he waited for the Headmaster to enter on his own.

“Good Morning, Severus.”

“Headmaster.” Severus replied. Although he was trying to control his tone he was unable to keep his irritation at being interrupted from coloring his tone.

“I was just wondering if you were planning to contact either Arabella or Harry this week?”

Severus froze mid-motion at the mention of his wife and son. An irrational anger built in him. Taking several regulating breaths, he forced himself to continue with his work. “No.” he stated, his voice bitter. “Why would I?”

“Family is very important, Severus.” The headmaster replied in a tone that suggested that simple sentence was the answer to all questions.

“Family? Is that what you call it?” Severus sneered at him, no longer caring about his tone. “Family is what I would have had if you had not denied me my wife and son for fourteen years!”

Severus was pleased to see how taken aback the elder wizard was; Dumbledore, however, recovered quickly.

“I suspected as much. I am sorry, Severus. I wish things could have been different for you. Your knowing the truth would have changed nothing. Harry would have had to remain with the Dursley’s. He would have been safe from the remaining Death Eaters no where else.”

“He is my son. I would have protected him.”

“You would have tried. But, I fear, in the end, it would not have been enough. Harry has been at Hogwart’s for four years now and how many times has his life been endangered? How many times have you lurked just inside that secret passage in the infirmary watching over him?”

Severus turned away from the old man. It was his way of denying the truth of the headmaster’s words.

“And what kind of life would that have been for him? Locked inside an old, drafty castle with little or no interaction with children his age? He would have been constantly stared at. Never just Harry and you know he hates that kind of attention.”

“What kind of life did he get instead, Albus? He lived in a cupboard under the stairs since he was three. At least with us he would have been loved. He would have had a real family instead of that pathetic excuse for one.” Severus hissed.

“And if something had happened to you or Arabella while you were trying to protect him? Where would he be now? He will need both of you to prepare for what is coming Severus.”

There was a long moment of silence before Dumbledore spoke again. “I have told you many times over the years why we could not bring them home my friend. You are well aware of the bias of many within the Ministry. They would never have allowed you to have custody of Harry. I am sorry, Severus. I too, would have preferred to have found another way; but alas that which is done can not be undone.”

Severus stood there, his back still turned to the headmaster. Several minutes passed in awkward silence before Severus nodded stiffly and returned to disposing of potions. He knew the Headmaster wasn’t going to leave without receiving the answer he had come for, but he wasn’t quite prepared to let go of his anger just yet. Instead he busied himself muttering about meddling old wizards. It wasn’t long before an extra set of hands joined his in the disposal process.

“Is there a particular reason you wish me to visit Arabella and Harry before they arrive here next week?”

“I just thought that perhaps you would like the chance to ease the adjustments. Get to know Harry outside of your typical environment? Let him see you as a man and not just his professor.”

Severus turned to look at the man. He had recognized the tone of voice; the elder wizard sounded amused. Severus grumbled, his suspicions were confirmed when he recognized the twinkle in the other man’s eye.

“There are many decisions you need to make as a family, Severus. For instance…”

The sound of Dumbledore’s voice faded it was drowned out by the intense shutting pain that began in his forearm and surged momentarily through his entire body. Severus slumped against his worktable he was grateful that it held his weight. He felt gentle hands guide him to a chair and he dropped into it as he tried to breathe evenly while the pain faded to its usual burning tingle.

“Are you alright? Is he summoning you?”

“Yes and yes,” was the limit of what Severus was able to say in a somewhat normal tone.

“It has never hurt you before.”

It was a statement not a question but Severus still nodded in agreement.

“I have to go.” Severus said. He rose and strode determinedly from the room. He heard the Headmaster call after him but was too focused on what was to come to truly register what was being said. As he quickly made his way to the apparition point just outside of the schools wards he considered his plan to spy for Dumbledore and the Order by returning to Voldemort's good graces. While he wished there was another way he knew this was his best chance he had to protect Harry and the rest of the Wizarding world.

A chill ran down his spine as he remembered watching Harry lying motionless in the infirmary bed just after the Third Task. When the Headmaster asked him to return to previous role in the war effort, he hadn’t hesitated. He had contacted Lucius Malfoy, and asked him to plead his case to the Dark Lord. Severus explained his absence at the first summoning, saying he was seated with Dumbledore and Fudge at the time and could not get away without raising suspicions; which was actually the truth. Over the years, Severus informed Lucius of the goings on around Hogwart's and his own actions. Painting them to appear as if everything he did was in service to the Dark Lord. He hoped that Lucius would now relay those explanations to Voldemort. Reaching his destination he said a silent prayer hoping he would survive what was coming. He also prayed that Arabella and Harry would forgive him if he failed. With that done he steeled himself for all possible outcomes and apparated.

Within minutes he found himself in a dark room. Shadows cast across the walls by the flickering fire and stray rays of light that filtered through the boarded up windows. A low, hissing voice spat the word “Crucio” and Severus’ vision swam under the intense agony that railed his body. He locked his jaw against his need to release the torture though screaming. He felt his knees buckle under the onslaught of the torment, which sent him tumbling to the ground.

An eternity later the pain began to recede as the curse upon him was released. Once again Severus tried to breathe evenly and deeply as he tried to regain his bearings. He felt the swish of the air, as Voldemort moved around him, coming finally to crouch behind his back. The Dark Lord’s cold breath raised the hair on Severus’ neck as Voldemort hissed in his ear. “Do you think I am a fool? That I do not know what you have been up to these past years? ” He felt the air move as the dark lord shifted to stand above him. “That I do not remember how you saved that Potter brat from Quirrell? That you tried to prevent me for getting the stone?”

The sound of Harry’s last name spoken in a strained and hatred filled tone filled his heart with dread and nearly caused him to panic. The image of a laughing baby Harry swam into his head and morphed into the beaten, bleeding and broken boy that had been recovered from the tournament’s third task. Severus forced the images and all the emotions they stirred from his mind. He did not want to give the looming figure any clue or sign to his true motivations.

“You have one chance. I want the locations of Potter’s little Mudblood friend. You better work fast Severus, or it will be your life that is forfeit. I will be watching you.”

Severus heard the Dark Lord move further away from him and for a moment allowed himself to hope his encounter was over. He heard the harshly whispered “Crucio” just before the burning agony washed over him and he blacked out.

Remus exhaled strongly as he extinguished the flame on Arabella’s gas stove. The last three days had been a respite, a blessing, for Remus after so many years spent isolated and alone. He had forgotten what it was like to spend your nights and days with friends, family. Three days spent talking over breakfasts, lunches and dinners, looking at photos, telling stories and spending time getting to know each other. He watched the haunted look in Sirius eyes start to fade and seen the dark circles under Arabella’s eyes diminish. Even Harry seemed to grow more comfortable and open with all of them, more willing to talk about the happenings of the past year. He had enjoyed the afternoons spent with Arabella in her kitchen, just talking, hearing her laugh at his stories or standing beside her and watching out the window at Harry trying to teach Sirius muggle football. The wisdom of Dumbledore’s decision seemed so clear in those moments

.

Which just indicated the gravity of the situation that would cause Dumbledore to recall them. Stepping back out onto the patio, he paused to watch his two best friends sitting together, looking over yet another photo album of Arabella’s. From his vantage point he could see the smile that spread across Sirius’ face before it faltered momentarily. Arabella reached out and stroked her hand against Sirius’ cheek and Remus could almost imagine the sad smile that graced her face. It had been directed at him enough these past few days, usually when he glanced at Harry and, for a moment, would forget he wasn’t James’ son only to remember again and feel again the loss of his last seeming connection to his friend. He knew it must be even harder for Sirius.

Sighing, Remus approached his friends, “I am afraid we will have to go, Sirius. Dumbledore needs to see us.”

He watched as a fleeting expression of regret flashed across Sirius’ face before being replaced by a determined look, a mask. Arabella reached up for her brother, enveloping him in a hug. “Take the picture,” she whispered. The picture in question showed a seven year-old Harry, a towel tied around his neck, running in perpetual circles with a broom between his legs. Remus smiled, seeing the boy’s face devoid of fear or the sadness he had grown used to seeing since meeting Harry again two years ago.

Separating from his sister, Sirius looked at the picture one last time before tucking it into the pocket of his shirt. Looking back up, he asked, “Will you share some of your memories with me, Bell? Show me what he was like sometime?”

His voice was serious and a bit sad, revealing how much it hurt Sirius to have missed so much of Harry’s life. Remus knew Arabella could use her gift to share a few memories, allowing Sirius to live them a bit through her. Just as he knew she would gladly do it. “Of course, Siri. You know I will.” She said, though the happiness in her voice sounded a bit forced. The genuine smile that spread across Sirius’ face seemed to chase away the gloom from Arabella’s expression.

“We should say good-bye to Harry first.” Sirius said as he rose.

"Go ahead," Remus said, "I'll be up in a minute."

Sirius nodded and walked back into the house. As the door shut behind him, Remus walked over to Bella and opened his arms to her. Arabella stepped forward into his embrace with no hesitation. For the moment he just held her; wanting nothing more than to reassure her that everything would be okay.

After a few moments, Arabella stepped back slightly, her arm to dropped to his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Together they walked back into her home in silence. As they climbed the stairs, Remus' keen ears picked up the sound of Sirius knocking softly on Harry’s bedroom door. From the landing Remus saw him pushing it open and stand in the doorway.

“Harry?” Sirius asked softly. “We’re going to have to leave a bit early. Dumbledore need us for something.” he said.

"Do you have to?" When he heard the lost and sad tone in Harry’s voice, Remus felt his own unhappiness grow.

As Remus approached Harry's door, he felt Bella's arm slip from his waist. Glancing back questioningly at Arabella, he realized she was hanging back to allowing Sirius and him time alone with Harry. He felt a pang of regret when he saw how she wrapped her arms around herself. It was a sure sign of her emotional distress at their departure. He smiled at her reassuringly before stepping into Harry's room.

Harry glanced over at him as soon as he entered the room. Setting aside an album, he rose from his place on the bed and walked over to stand in front of Remus. Awkwardly, Harry hugged him. “Take care, Remus. Please try to keep Sirius out of too much trouble.”

Remus returned the hug before stepping back. “Always, Harry. Be careful and mind Bella. I'll see you soon.” He replied before turning to Sirius, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Sirius nodded and Remus exited the room. He waited just on the other side of the threshold. Arabella was nowhere in sight.

Remus’ attention was drawn back to the two people in the room behind him when he heard Sirius ask Harry quietly. “You okay?"

“Don’t know,” Harry replied honestly. Even Remus could make out the sadness and confusion that layered the two words. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the wall, his heart aching for the boy who had come to mean quite a bit to him.

“You know, I never liked him,” Sirius started. His tone was a bit sad and resigned, but not hateful or bitter. “But Bella loves him. And I was there when the spells were cast, and I would have to have been deaf, dumb and blind to not see that he loved you.” Sirius paused and Remus could make out the sounds of him crossing the room and taking a seat on the bed. “James loved you, too. Unconditionally. No one’s expecting you to forget James, Harry, or to have a perfect father/son relationship with Snape from the start. I can’t believe I am saying this, but give the git a chance. He might surprise you.”

There was silence for a minute before Harry spoke, “Will you do something for me? Will you give this to Professor Snape?”

“Sure, Harry.” Sirius replied, “Remus is waiting. We should be going.” He continued hesitantly.

Remus heard movement and the distinct sound of someone being patted on the back.

“Be careful, Sirius, please. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t think Bella would be too happy if something happened to you or Remus, either.”

“Same to you, Harry-bean,” Sirius said causing Harry to groan and Remus to chuckle.

The door opened and Remus fell in behind Sirius as they walked down the stairs. At the bottom, Arabella stood waiting for them, two bags full of clothes in her hands. Remus chuckled despite himself.

“Promise me you will both be very careful. Don’t make me come after you!” Her expression, the twinkling in her eyes, the joking lilt of her voice all indicated she was teasing, but the slight shaking of her hands told Remus how much it was costing her.

Sirius stepped forward first, embracing his twin tightly. “You do the same, Bella, and we’ll see you soon." Sirius hesitantly stepped away and Remus moved in to hug Arabella good-bye. Within a few minutes, Sirius and Remus were on their way outside of the wards a safe distance to activate their portkey, taking them directly to Hogwarts.

Harry slumped down in his desk chair in surrender, he had spent the last few hours in vain, reading and re-reading the same pages of Wizarding History over and over. Hard as he tried, he just couldn’t himself to concentrate on the history of Avalon, the Great Council or the Civil War of 950 AD. Instead, his mind kept wandering back to his two fathers, to his Dad and Severus Snape. This morning at breakfast, he and Arabella had talked about their impending return to Hogwarts. While he had looked forward to returning, he hadn’t thought much about the implications until then. Now, he couldn’t think of anything else and what it would mean to his life, the changes it would bring that he was powerless to stop.

Gathering the items off his desk, he carefully placed them back into their place in his school trunk. As he walked down the stairs to rejoin Arabella, he heard the sound of the muggle news coming from the living room,

“No one is certain as to what caused the explosion that rocked the London Suburb and destroyed several house on the block. Local speculation centers around the daughter of Drs. Granger, who apparently attended a special school for the highly gifted.”

At the sound of the familiar name, Harry quickly cleared the rest of the steps and ran into the room, his full attention to the television. The screen flashed to a pre-taped element and an older woman could be seen standing on street strewn with debris,

“She was such a lovely girl, very smart. She went to some kind of special school for the gifted. She used to have all sorts of odd lab equipment stored in the garage when she was home on holidays. Maybe one of her experiments went wrong.”

“No!” Harry mumbled softly, his throat too tight to speak any louder. He could feel his body start to shake with panic. “She wouldn’t have been practicing magic over the hols!”

He felt Arabella move closer to him and place her hand to between his shoulder blades, rubbing the area softly and silently offering her support as the newscaster continued,

“Again, nothing about the cause of this disaster is known for certain. Five houses have been destroyed; luckily only one family was home at the time. The flames are still burning at this hour, but so far there are no known survivors from the home of Drs. Granger and their daughter, which appears to be the epicenter of the incident.”

“Harry, do you have your wand and the portkey I gave you?” she asked as a faint tinkling that sounded like a wind chime filled the room. He could see she was worried and trying not to show it as the sound Harry guessed to be an alarm grew louder.

“Yes,” He replied, tapping his chest where the locket / portkey hung around his neck. He forced himself to shove down his growing apprehension. Arabella took his hand and smiled reassuringly at him. Quickly, she led him up the stairs to his room and shut the door behind them, quickly gathering items from his drawers and closet, placing them in his one of his trunks.

“What’s that alarm for?” He asked as he placed the last of his prized possessions in to his trunks and shut the lids and locked them.

“Someone or something magical is approaching; someone other than Sirius or Remus,” she said, trying to keep her voice sounding calm. She placed her hands on either side of his face so that he could look nowhere else but at her. “Listen to me, Harry, and no arguments. I need to go back down stairs to see who is coming. It may be any number of people, like one of the Weasley’s, coming to tell us what’s happened at the Grangers’, but if its not, I want you to use that portkey and get to safety.”

“No! I won’t leave you alone.” He said adamantly. Every part of him was screaming at him not to leave without her. He felt his fear intensify at the thought of using the portkey; his determination to not leave her behind growing.

“I know you hate them and you don’t want to leave me behind, but it’s the only way. Once you activate the key, it will sound an alarm and send help. I just need to know you’re safe, Harry. Please.”

Harry nodded and she pulled him into a quick hug. “Love you,” she said softly before releasing him. He watched her open the bedroom door raced back to the steps, her wand drawn. She glanced back when she reached the top of the stairs, and Harry saw something flash across her face. It felt like she was trying to memorize him and Harry felt something akin to terror at the thought.

“Bella?”

The voice sounded like Professor Snape’s. What shocked him was the sound of urgency and fear that even he recognized in timber of the man’s voice. Harry hoped fervently it was Snape as Arabella turned back to him. No matter what he promised her, he didn’t think he’d be able to leave without at least trying to help her. “Stay here,” she mouthed him before pulling her wand and walking down the stairs.

“Sev? Is that you?” She called out as she reached the bottom of the steps. Quietly, Harry followed, perching at the top of the stairs to hear what was happening. He felt his anxiety begin to grow in the milliseconds Bella’s question went unanswered. He slumped down unto top step when he finally heard her mumbled words.

“Oh, Sev, what did that bastard do?” she whispered.

“I’m fine,” Harry heard him reply. His professor’s voice was edgy, but not as caustic as it usually was when Harry heard him speak. “Did I scare you?”

“A little. We saw a news report about the Granger’s and then the alarms went off. We didn’t know it was you,” she replied before calling up the stairs,

“It’s safe, Harry. It’s Severus. You can come down.”

Harry stood, took a deep breath and placed his wand back in the waistband of his pants. He rose from his seated position slowly and tried to force the muscles in his arms and shoulders to relax. He had been dreading this moment since this morning, but he always thought he had at least a few days to figure out what to do. He descended the stairs quickly as he heard Arabella ask Snape what had happened.

“Voldemort sent Death Eaters after Ms. Granger and her family. There is no time to explain, they need you back at the castle. Sirius is waiting for you. I’ll follow you with Harry.”

Chills ran down Harry’s spine at the tension still prevalent in his professor’s voice; the tone had neither the usually sneering quality nor the shades of venomous anger that was often directed towards him. As he came to the foot of the steps, he raised his eyes to look directly at Snape. He could see the man was trying to project his usual calm, aloof demeanor, but there was something different about his eyes and expression that Harry couldn’t quite place. He felt her take his hand, glad for the reassuring wave of love that seeped into him from the connection and squeezed her hand in thanks.

“Hello,” Harry said, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

“Hello, Harry,” Snape replied with a slight hesitation before he looked directly at Arabella. “You need to go now.”

Bella looked over at Harry and he could see she didn’t want to leave him; something was scaring her and it was enough to unnerve him a bit. At the same time, he had heard the urgency in Snape’s voice and if he was judging the man’s expression correctly, Arabella was need elsewhere more than he needed her here now. Harry smiled at her, nodded his head and gave her hand a final squeeze before release his grip and taking a half step toward his professor.

“We’ll follow as soon as we can, Bella,” Severus said as took a step closer to her and placed a pendant around her neck, carefully pulling her hair from underneath the chain. “Use this; Dumbledore said it should work through the wards around you house and the general area. Sirius will be waiting for you.”

Arabella nodded and turned back toward him. He could see the worry in her eyes and felt his resolve and courage begin to falter. He wanted to go with her; Sirius was there and he far preferred Sirius to staying back with Professor Snape. With a sad smile, she stepped closer to him and whispered softly,

“It will be alright. Do as Severus says and I will see you soon. Promise.”

Biting back his desire to go with her, he nodded his assent and tried to force at least a half smile. The professor stepped a bit closer to him and Arabella’s eyes misted over and she smiled at them just before she disappeared. For a long moment, Harry just stared at the spot where Arabella had been; he did it more so he wouldn’t have to face the man standing beside him than out of any shock or worry.

“We need to get yours and Arabella’s things together and leave quickly.”

The sound of Professor Snape’s voice accompanied by the gentle touch on his arm forced Harry to look at the man who was his biological father. For the first time, Harry noticed just how uncomfortable or uncertain the man seemed; there was an unusual, but oddly familiar look in his eyes, an almost desperate weariness. It suddenly occurred to him that he had seen a similar expression on the professor’s face on his last day at Hogwarts just before he boarded a coach to Hogsmeade.

“You knew,” Harry blurted out before he even processed what he was thinking.

Snape just looked at him with an apprehensive expression, like he wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about, but wasn’t prepared to deal with what he suspected Harry was alluding to.

“At Hogwarts when I was getting into the carriage. You were staring at me with the oddest look,” Harry explained. He knew he could have been clearer but that would mean actually saying the words he had managed to avoid for the past several days.

“Yes,” Snape replied. His voice was a firm, much like it always was; only now the biting and caustic elements were missing, replaced by something almost hopeful. “We need to hurry. Do you know what Bella wants for now?”

Harry was shocked to hear the softness in the professor’s tone. In the past, even when the man was being nice to Harry, the professor’s voice always maintained a harshness or derogatory element. This time he had sounded normal, well normal for others, if a bit impatient.

“Uh, my stuff is packed. Bella has a trunk in her room, but I think she wanted some of the things she just washed.” Harry said, pointing back toward the kitchen area. Taking a step off the landing Harry skirted around Snape and walked into the small area that housed the laundry.

Pointing to a basket of neatly folded clothes on top of the dryer, Harry said, “That’s all Bella’s. It’s all her laundry from last week, so you know, it should have everything she needs, you know, clothes and under clothes wise.” Harry’s was mortified by his rambling and inability to not stutter and blush when referring to something perfectly normal. It was even worse when Snape’s usually annoyed smirk became an amused smirk. Turning quickly, Harry went back into the kitchen and started gathering the photos off the refrigerator door, pausing momentarily to look at each one.

He heard Snape come up behind him and turned to face him while asking, “What will happen to the rest of this stuff?”

Snape seemed to studying him intently and Harry found it rather unnerving. Shifting uncomfortably, he waited to see if the Professor would reply or continue staring at him.

“As soon as we are back at Hogwarts, I will send one of my house elves to retrieve everything. It will be stored at my… at our ancestral home until Bella can go through it.”

Harry nodded in response to Snape’s answer. Taking one last look around the kitchen and seeing nothing he thought Arabella needed, turned to the professor to indicate he was going to get his stuff from his room.

Wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, he ran up the stairs and straight to his room. Quickly, he checked his closet and drawers, making sure everything was tucked into either his school trunk or the one Bella had given him. Scanning the room one last time, Harry suddenly felt a pang of regret to be leaving. With a sigh, he dragged each of his trunks out into the hall one at a time.

A few minutes later, Snape exited Bella’s room, a shrunken chest in his hands. He quickly shrunk Harry’s trunks and set the one from Bella’s room beside them. Harry watched curiously as Snape pulled out what looked like a sheet from his robe, draped it over the trunks, tapped it twice with his wand and stepped back. The trunks vanished.

“Are you ready?” Snape asked as he pulled out a portkey much like the one he had given Arabella.

He nodded hesitantly as he stared at the pendant in Snape’s hands. Hoping his growing disquiet wasn’t noticed, he forced himself to look up and meet the professor’s eyes only to find Snape staring at the portkey. He must have felt Harry’s eyes on him because he looked up almost immediately and regarded him for a brief second.

Something in his eyes softened and amazingly, Harry felt reassured. “It’s safe, Harry,” the professor said. “I saw Dumbledore make it himself. Regardless, I would never allow any harm to come to you as long as I am capable of preventing it.” Snape stepped closer to him and placed a tentative arm around his shoulders, drawing him close to his side. Instinctively, Harry tensed and had to force himself to relax as the Professor held the pendant in the palm of his hand between them. For the first time, Harry got a good look at it; the pearl scent metal formed an intricate phoenix. Gesturing with the hand containing the pendant, he said softly, “Give me your hand, Harry.”

Looking up at the man beside him, Harry placed his hand in professors, covering the phoenix. He felt Snape’s hand tighten around his and heard his whispered words, although he couldn’t quite make out the words themselves. All too soon he felt that unsettling tug behind his navel before the world blurred and went black.

When he felt himself once again on solid ground, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, even though his surroundings remained pitch black. He felt Snape release his hand and remove the arm from around his shoulders. Seconds later he heard a faint “lumos” and suddenly a room or rather a tunnel emerged from the darkness. “This way,” he said as he started to move briskly down the corridor. After a moment’s hesitation, Harry moved quickly to keep up, doing his best to match the professor’s long stride.

Eventually, the light in the tunnel seemed to grow brighter and finally a large decoratively carved archway appeared with a large room visible just beyond. Harry could hear voices growing louder the closer to the room they came. Then suddenly a familiar figure stepped into the opening.

“Sirius!” Harry shouted as he quickened his pace and threw his arms around his godfather and greeting him with a tight hug.

Sirius returned his hug, clapping him on the back several times. “You okay?” he asked.

Harry stepped back and shrugged. “Is Remus here?” he asked. Watching Snape walk by him out of the corner of his eyes. He almost felt guilty at the air of sadness that seemed to emanate from the man.

“Yes,” Sirius replied. “He’s in with Arabella.” He gestured with his head in the direction Professor Snape had just walked and Harry turned to see a set of large double wooden doors with a Phoenix carved in the center panel. The doors suddenly opened and Harry watched Remus emerge looking worse than when they’d first met on the train to Hogwarts. Sirius squeezed his shoulder once before moving past him and approaching Remus. The two spoke softly for a moment then Sirius glanced back over his shoulder once in Harry’s direction.

The look on his godfather’s face sent chills down his back. It was obvious something beyond what he already knew was wrong. Forcing himself not to dream up the worst he walked over to them.

“What happened?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “Where’s Hermione?”

Remus started then gestured toward the sitting area in front of the nearest fireplace. “Why don’t we sit down and Sirius and I will tell you what we know.”

Harry walked over and sat down on one of the chairs. He tried to keep his breathing even. He rested his hands on the arms of the wing chair to keep them from shaking and at the same time, resisted the urge to hold so tight to them that his hands turned white from the strain. He watched Sirius and Remus take seats on either side of him. Both men looked tired. It was as if the weariness went beyond the body and into their souls.

“Harry, Bella told us you saw the news and know something happened at the Grangers’,” Sirius started. “We were warned, but the attack happened much earlier than we expected and not all the precautions were in place.”

Harry just stared at the two of them, too scared to even try and figure out what they were trying to tell him.

“Hermione’s alive,” Remus said softly as he reached out to gently grasp his hand. At the reassuring squeeze, Harry turned to look at the man who had always been so kind and supportive towards him. He tried to smile at Remus as the tightness of his muscles began to relax at his words. “I’m sorry Harry but Hermione’s mother was killed before she even got home from Diagon Alley this afternoon.”

Harry’s breath hitched as he remembered Ron’s note and silently wondered if the timing had been a coincidence.

“Death Eaters were waiting for her when she arrived home. I don’t know much about what happened. Her father mostly likely had already been tortured,” Remus paused and looked at him with concern. “I know Hermione had a portkey for emergencies, but she waited to use it until she could take her father with her. The Death Eaters started the fire. They had orders to kill her and her family and make it look like a Muggle accident.”

“By the time we got here, Snape was already on his way to Arabella’s for help. Dumbledore and Madame Pomphrey were working on Dr. Granger. Arabella went straight into the room and has been doing all she can to help ever since. That’s all we know.”

“Can I see Hermione?” he asked in a weak voice as he fought back against guilt-induced tears. Yet another friend was suffering because of him.

“I’m afraid not, Harry. She’s unconscious at the moment; Arabella placed her in a healing trance.”

Harry just nodded to convey his understanding as he slouched back into his chair. He felt himself slipping into the overwhelming guilt that seemed to linger on the edge of his mind. He wished he could close his eyes and wake up to find this was only one of his nightmares but as awful as things were in his nightmares, he was always alone. He was peripherally aware of Sirius and Remus hovering near him and talking quietly although he wasn’t conscious of what was being said until he felt a gentle hand on his hair.

“Harry?”

Harry turned and looked up at Professor Dumbledore. The old wizard smiled at him kindly. “You should get some sleep Harry. It’s late. There is nothing more you can do tonight.”

“If it’s okay sir, I would prefer waiting.”

“Harry,” Sirius started, “You need to rest.”

His godfather sounded concerned and as much as Harry hated to worry him, he couldn’t bring himself to concede. He didn’t want to sleep; he knew that he wouldn’t get any rest, just nightmares.

“Alright. Come with me, Harry.”

The sound of Professor Snape’s voice coming from behind his chair startled him and he jumped from the chair and spun around to face him. Glancing quickly back, he saw Sirius and Remus guarded expressions and the soft, encouraging smile that graced the Headmaster’s face. Hesitantly, Harry followed after Snape who opened the large double doors with the engraved phoenix.

As he stepped across the threshold his eyes were immediately drawn to the shimmering light that seemed to surround Arabella, Madame Pomphrey and a man he guessed to be Dr. Granger. Arabella seemed to be standing above him in a trance, occasionally giving directions to Madame Pomphrey, who bustled around the small area. Harry watched as the Professor gestured for him to stay where he was before placing his hands up to the barrier. Slowly the shimmer engulfed Snape and he walked up to stand behind Arabella. With his wand, he touched the top of her head. Harry watched Snape whisper and a blue light engulfed Arabella momentarily. Her slight smile was the only indication she was aware of his presences. Snape leaned down and placed a kiss on the back of Arabella’s head before turning back to Harry.

It was the oddest experience for Harry, the sight of his bitter, venomous teacher being so tender to anyone. Even with all Bella had told him about the Severus Snape she knew, Harry hadn’t truly been able to imagine it. Now, the image of this Snape was imbedded in his mind. Almost as if the Professor knew his train of thought, he turned and the look Harry saw in his eyes scared him more than anything he could think of at the moment. He saw love, unconditional love and it was directed straight at him. Unable to bear it, he turned away and found an equal distressing sight.

Hermione lay on a bed nearby. A blue blanket covered her to the shoulders with her arms crossed neatly over her chest. She looked as peaceful as he had ever seen her, which was unsettling. It was almost as if she was too peaceful. Harry took a few hesitant steps toward her needing to reassure himself she was okay. Reaching down, he took her hand and felt a flood of relief at the warmth of her skin. But even the knowledge that she was alive couldn’t forestall the toll of emotional, mental and physical exhaustion overcoming him. He felt two arms wrap around him just as his knees began to buckle under him. Awkwardly but gently the arms turned him and held him against a chest. Gentle words accompanied the arms in an attempt to calm and comfort him. He felt himself gently being turned and urged backwards until he felt the edge of the bed behind him. His weight pulled him down to the mattress and a warm hand press a vial into his hand.

“Drink this, it will help you sleep.”

The voice was warm and oddly familiar, but Harry’s mind was too hazy to even attempt to identify the owner. All he could feel was the fear rising in him at the mention of sleep. He couldn’t sleep now. It was too much.

“It’s Dreamless Sleep, Harry. You need to rest,” the voice said and Harry turned toward the sound.

His tried to focus through the haze of the unshed tears he refused to let fall, it took him a few moments to realize it was his Potion’s Master kneeling beside him. His face wore that expression again, the one that was soft and full of love. Gentle pressure was applied to his elbow, forcing him to raise the vial and the idea of succumbing to the nothingness of dreamless sleep seemed more and more like a godsend. Raising the vial to his lips, Harry downed the potion quickly and ceased struggling against the heaviness of his limbs. He felt the Potion’s Master’s gentle touch on his shoulders pushing him down onto the bed. He was barely aware of his shoes being removed and a blanket being draped over him.

A hand brushed through his hair and hushed voices drifting to him made Harry feel safe. With a sigh, he relaxed his last hold on consciousness and drifted into the warm cocoon of sleep.

(July 10, 1995)

Severus awoke with a start and instinctively looked to the bed on his right side to make sure Harry was still sleeping soundly. The sight of his son sleeping peacefully sent a rush of mixed emotions surging through him; he felt fear, resentment, confusion and the most powerful, unconditional love, as he gazed down at the young man. Sitting silently for a minute, he resisted the urge to reach out and touch his son and to know that this was a child of his own flesh and blood. He had always loved Harry and felt protectiveness for him, despite how he had treated him in the past. But that emotion paled in comparison to what he felt now, like a vale had been lifted allowing the full force of the emotion to shine through. It was a heady and fear-inspiring feeling and nothing could have prepared him for the power of the emotion or its hold over him.

He tried not to resent the fact that he was seeing a mirror image of a man who was a childhood enemy and later an ally, not a reflection of his own traits or even Lily's. He knew the reasons behind the disguise and had participated in the creating it. Part of him, however, was jealous that his son wore another's features and called another "Dad." He knew that sometime soon the decision would need to be made again; redo the series of spells that made Harry appear to be the son of James Potter or deal with the truth, that he was Severus' son and live with the consequences. Whatever the decision was, he knew he'd find a way to deal with it; the thought of any harm coming to Harry left a sharp and sudden ache in Severus' chest and a cold chill permeating his entire body.

Quickly falling back into long unused habits, he turned to his left, to Arabella, seeking the comfort, reassurance and support she had always willing given him. He glanced at the bed and wasn't surprised to see it empty. Immediately, he looked toward the bed Mr. Granger rested in and saw Arabella sitting on the empty cot next to him, her arms wrapped tightly about her. Even across the room, he could tell she wasn't truly seeing the broken man in the bed but someone else long gone. Rising from his chair as quietly as possible, he cast a furtive glance at Sirius and Remus, who were both slumped in chairs on the opposite side of Harry's bed before he walked to his wife and gently turned her to face him.

"Bella," he said softly, trying to draw her attention with a caress to her cheek. He waited for several minutes before she finally responded.

"It's happening again. I can't stop it. I can't." She whispered in a quivering and tired voice. Tears were beginning to flow steadily from her pale and haunted eyes.

He hadn't seen her look so lost and hurt for almost two decades, since her father lay dying in a bed similar to this one after one of Voldemort's attack during the once in a decade Avalon Celebrations. She had lost so much that day, including in many ways, him. It had been a similar look in her eyes that had brought the world back into focus for him and shown him the error of his ways. His instinct was to pull her up and cradle her against him. He wanted to shield her from the suffering, but part of him wasn't sure he had earned that right again. Sorrow flared in her eyes as she turned away from him causing a desperate aching to flare in his chest. He looked at the hand that moments ago had rested against her cheek and cursed himself for causing her more pain with his self-doubt. Sitting beside her on the bed, he reached out and took one of her hands and drew it to his lips, then held it clasped firmly between his hands. He forced himself to concentrate on her, on his feelings, his love, for her and his desire to rebuild what they used to share. He tried to think of anything that could help her and bolster her spirit. She squeezed his hand in reply then sagged against his side. Releasing her hand, he wrapped his arm about her waist and held her close to his side.

They sat together in silence for several minutes before she spoke again.

"How's Harry?'

Her voice was hushed but he could still hear the faint hesitation in her speech and knew she was talking about more than how he was sleeping at the moment.

"I do not know," Severus admitted in a soft voice. He hated admitting that he didn't know his son well enough to determine his mental or emotional state. "Confused and scared, he is worried about Ms. Granger. I think he feels guilty about what's happened, as well. Sirius and Remus stayed with him and helped him." He tried to keep the bitterness and jealousy toward Sirius and Remus and general sadness from seeping into his tone; even knowing she would still pick it up from their contact and close proximity.

"Give it time, Sev," she replied.

Severus just nodded before resting his check against the top of her head. A more comfortable silence descended on them this time and he decided to try and enjoy just sitting with her. Arabella shifted way from him, hovering over Mr. Granger with her hand outstretched and eyes closed. After a moment, her shoulders slumped. She looked defeated and Severus closed his eyes, regret and guilt washing over him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he could have done something more to prevent a young girl from losing both her parents. He felt the warmth of Arabella's hand slipping back into his, "It's not your fault, Sev." Her voice was soft but understanding.

Looking up at her, Severus rose to his feet while keeping his eyes locked on hers, "It's not yours, either," he replied. She smiled slightly but her eyes showed her disbelief. He knew there was nothing he could do at the moment to convince her so he squeezed her hand tightly wanting her to know she could lean on him, that he would be there to help her however he could. Slowly the pair walked over to the more crowded side of the room where Arabella quickly and quietly checked on Hermione Granger before moving over to sit beside Harry on the bed. Severus watched as she gently brushed her hand across Harry's head. He was awed by the way Harry easily turned into the comfort offered but that didn't stop the momentary flash of bitterness and a faint jealousy tainted the moment.

A soft gasping cough caught his attention and he turned toward the sound. He felt Arabella rush by him and over to Dr. Granger's bedside. Severus followed her, wand drawn if she needed assistance.

"Where... what?" the man questioned weakly, his eyes darting as he tried to take in his surroundings.

"Easy, Dr. Granger, you're safe," Arabella said in a soft, melodic tone, the sound of which eased even his frayed nerves. "My name is Arabella. I'm a Healer. Your daughter is here, she's safe and unharmed. You're in a place known as Haven."

The man blinked a few times before lucidity and full realization showed in his eyes. His expression quickly morphed into one of agonizing grief. The deep keening sound forced its way from his lips, a name - Anne. Severus didn't need to be told who "Anne" was, the man's distress was clear and he could remember all to perfectly a time when a similar pain had nearly torn him apart. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the reminder of such pain and fought against the guilt and the small voice telling him he could have - should have -- done more.

His eyes flicked open again only at a gentle touch. Dumbledore stood on his right, one hand gripping his shoulder to offer him support and understanding. Arabella was still kneeling by Dr. Granger; the man grew calmer as she gently soothed him with her touch and voice.

"Is he here?" the man's voice was barely more than a wisp of sound, "the man who saved us."

Arabella looked back toward him questioningly, the strain on her showing clearly in the dimness of her eyes. Severus found himself moving closer to his wife, placing the tip of his wand against her neck. Bella flashed him a strained smile as she moved his wand away. "I'm alright," she said to him.

"Are you him," the man struggled to continue while breathing heavily, "the professor who brought us here?"

Severus nodded to the gentleman, his guilt preventing him from saying more. Dr. Granger turned his attention back to Arabella and watched her silently. Severus noticed that his breathing had eased and evened out and he seemed more relaxed.

"Thank you," he whispered, smiling softly before his eyes clouded over with tears, "I'm dying, aren't I?" he asked hesitantly.

Severus winced, hearing the fear, pain and regret easily in his voice. Part of him wanted to leave, to turn and walk out of the room and not look back. He had failed to protect the Grangers. He watched, unable to move or speak as Arabella confirmed his suspicions and gave the dying man her strength and courage as he faced the inevitable. She turned her bright eyes to him then and held out her hand and he could see her silent, near panicking plea for support. Regret and guilt washed over him as he remembered the last time he'd seen that look in her eyes; the day her father died. It was the look that had turned him, once and for all, away from Voldemort.

Closing the distance between them, Severus moved to stand next to her and rested one hand at the nape of her neck. He felt her subtly shift and leaning back slightly against him. Feeling like he was being watched, Severus looked from Arabella to Dr. Granger and confirmed his suspicions; the man was studying him and his interaction with Arabella silently.

"Will she be safe?" the man asked as he turned his head.

Severus followed the man's gaze and looked down the row of beds to where Miss Granger and his son slept. In the split second before he turned back to meet Dr. Granger's eyes, he found himself remembering clearly the pain, fear and hope he felt as he placed his infant son into James Potter's arms, remembering being torn between jealousy and bitterness and, at the same time, praying the man would truly love and protect Harry in his place. He knew, even before he looked, what he would see in the dying man's eyes; the fear for the well-being of his child and the regret, the guilt, the grief of knowing he wouldn't be there to help her and guide her anymore.

He heard Dumbledore tell him that his daughter would be safe. Severus realized that what Dr. Granger was really asking was: Who will take care of her when he was gone? Unconsciously, he reached into the pocket of his robe and wrapping his hand tightly around the letter his son had written to him. He knew how important Miss Granger was to Harry; just as he knew the guilt his son would likely burden himself with over the death of his friend's parents. He knew that Miss Granger would not be safe with any Muggle relations, even if she had them.

He felt Arabella rise from her place on the bed and move to stand before him. She gently touched his cheek, applying a touch of pressure, letting him know she wanted him to look at her. When his eyes met hers, he could see everything he felt mirrored in her gaze - the fear, the uncertainty and the desire to help and protect Harry in any way he could. She smiled at him before she stepped back and walked over toward Harry's bed, waking Remus and Sirius as she walked past them. She sat down and gently began rousing Harry from his sleep. He smiled slightly, watching as Harry fought her, trying to roll away and sink back into sleep. Looking down at the man in the bed beside him, he made a decision and summoned a chair so that he could sit facing Dr. Granger.

"I give you my word that I will do everything within my power to protect your daughter," Severus said, softly. "M wife and I would be honored to take her into our home. If she chooses otherwise, I will ensure she has a proper and safe home and that all of her needs are met."

"Thank you," Dr. Granger whispered, blinking several times against the moisture that began to accumulate there. The man's eyes seemed to grow heavy and he fought to keep them open.

"Rest," Severus said, "Reserve your strength."

Dr. Granger nodded then drifted into an uneasy sleep. He sat there for a several minutes before feeling Arabella's hand on his shoulder. They remained there, silently watching over the dying man, hoping that he would have enough strength to live just a bit longer; long enough to let his daughter say good-bye.

"I sent Harry with Sirius and Remus to clean up and make some breakfast. Why don't you go get cleaned up as well?" Arabella suggested, her voice soft so as not to disturb Dr. Granger.

Severus looked at her closely, beyond the weak smile she wore and the camouflaging glamourie she cast on herself to see the tired, stressed woman underneath. Closing his eyes briefly, he steeled himself for the battle of wills he knew was coming. Rising from the chair, he took her hand and lead toward the door to the infirmary before cautiously responding, "No, Bella. I want you to relax. Take some time for yourself, please. I can keep watch over your patient, but I want you to take some time and eat something."

"Sev, I'm..." She started

"No, Arabella, you're not fine. You're drained." Severus heard the harsh, snapping quality in his voice and forced himself to stop and take a deep breath to calm down before continuing in a more reasonable voice. "I set some rejuvenating bath potion next to bathtub in the Avalon Lady's chamber. I can keep watch over Dr. Granger while I monitor the potions I started last night. Please Bella, just take some time to relax and gather your strength and get something to eat."

For a moment he was certain she would refuse, he could see her expression begin to change into one of obstinate determination before it was overrun by weary acquiescence. Her head dropped and she nodded, exhaling loudly.

"Alright," she whispered before turning away from him, her arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she walked away.

He stood there, watching her leave and fought against the desire to go after her. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as he tried to still the constant upheaval of his emotions. It took several minutes before he began to feel some semblance of control. He checked over Dr. Granger, thankful for all the medic training he'd received over the years. He then walked to the alcove that hid a small potions lab where he checked the charm on the wall that acted like a window and sound monitor into the infirmary. Assured they were functioning properly, he turned his attention to the quietly simmering potions on one of the worktables. The Metabolic Efficiency potion tested as ready and he quickly removed it from heat to allow it to cool naturally. He checked the second cauldron, verifying that the pain-relieving potion was progressing properly, before moving over to his supply cabinet and pulling out several jars of potions ingredients.

A flash of motion hovering just outside his line of vision drew his attention away from the herbs, roots and other ingredients he was preparing. Looking up, he saw a clean and obviously newly showered Harry watching him from the alcove door. A conditioned, habitual irritation flared within him momentarily at the boy's intrusion that he brutally shoved down. Severus reminded himself that this boy wasn't the son of an old nemesis, that he wasn't evidence of failures or the cause of his separation from Arabella; this boy was his son. Severus forced himself to really look at Harry; something he had very rarely done unless the boy was lying unconscious in the hospital wing. He was wearing a loose and lightweight black sweater with a white t-shirt underneath and black jeans Based on the lack of fading evident in their color, he guessed that they were new clothes and scowled as it reminded him of the neglect on the part of the Dursley's that he'd seen in Arabella's pensieve.

He looked a bit thinner than he had been a week ago, but Severus took some comfort at seeing Harry looked a bit taller. His hair was a bit longer and tamer, though he wasn't sure if it was charms starting to wear off or just that his hair was still a bit damp. The boy fidgeted under his gaze, his mouth set in a slight frown and Severus found himself smiling slightly. Between the hair and a definite "Snape" frown on his face, he saw a bit of himself looking back at him and not just James Potter.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," Harry mumbled as he turned to leave.

"You didn't," Severus said quickly. He tried to make his voice sound kind and friendly, but after years of being neither, especially to the young man before him, all he could manage was a neutral matter-of-fact tone. Slowly, Harry turned to face him and Severus let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Time seemed to stretch uncomfortably while Harry stood in the doorway nervously.

"Can I help?" Harry asked gesturing toward the supplies on the table.

Severus considered the request for a moment; he and Harry didn't really have an amicable relationship, especially when it came to potions and the last thing he wanted to do was add stress to the already fragile relationship he had with his son. He watched the hopeful look on Harry's face begin to fade and he considered the potion he was planning to make; the beginning stages were not too difficult and it would make the process go faster. Severus nodded his head in assent and watched Harry entered the alcove and glance about as if uncertain what to do.

"You may want to take off your sweater and put on a work robe; there should be one on the stand behind you." Severus said as he turned back to the ingredients, watching his son put on the robe out of the corner of his eye and walk hesitantly over toward the worktables. Summoning a potions book from a nearby shelf, he opened it to a grief easing & calming potion and set it on the table next to his son. "Do you think you can manage the liquid base for this potion?" He tried to keep his tone from sounding snide or condescending, his heart sinking when Harry flinched slightly before stepping closer to read through the instructions.

"Yes, sir, I should be able to prepare this," Harry replied a bit cautiously.

Severus observed him for a moment then nodded toward a cupboard in the back of the alcove. "You will find a small tempered silver cauldron in there. It has two snakes intertwined around a staff engraved on it. The base solutions are on the shelves to the right." His voice was much more neutral, this time. He returned his attention to the dry ingredients for the grief-easing potion, watching Harry's occasionally. He felt relieved when the boy seemed to relax a bit as he focused on the task before him; Severus was pleased to notice how careful and meticulous Harry was when preparing potions and wondered why he had never noticed before. The boy's hand faltered slightly and Severus was disheartened to realize it was his presence and scrutiny that unnerved the boy. Saddened, he returned his attention to preparing the ingredients. Time passed quickly while they worked together quietly. Before he knew it, the potion was ready to simmer for several hours and Arabella was standing in the doorway. She smiled at them both and walked over to check the potion. When she looked back up, he could read the question in her gaze as her eyes darted between himself and Harry.

"He did very well," Severus said at her curious look, a hint of pride in his voice. Harry smiled slightly at the compliment, which, in turn, sent warm emotion flooding though him.

"Harry, why don't you go ahead," Arabella said, "Remus and Sirius are waiting for you in the other room to take you to lunch."

Harry glanced toward the infirmary area worriedly, then nodded and turned toward, mumbling awkwardly, "Thank you for letting me help with the potion, sir."

He nodded, not sure what to say and still sound genuine; he wasn't exactly known for his polite conversation. Harry gave him a small hesitant smile that Severus hoped meant he understood before quietly exiting the room.

"I left some fresh clothes for you in my chamber. I suggest you get cleaned up and get some sleep."

Severus turned his attention back to Arabella and seeing the determined look in her eyes, knew it was useless to fight her. "The pain relieving potion needs to simmer for another hour. The Grief-easing potion should simmer for another four; then will need to be quick-cooled in preparation for the second phase."

"I'll take care of it, I promise."

"Thank you," he said and turned to leave the room. He could hear Harry, Sirius and Remus talking in one of the other rooms as he made his way across the great room to the sleeping chambers on the other side of the complex. With each step, he felt his body and mind grow heavier and was grateful to reach the chamber. Removing the majority of his constricting clothes, he climbed into the bed, hugging a pillow that smelled distinctively of Arabella and succumbed to a deep sleep.

Severus smiled at the gentle touch against his cheek followed by flood of warmth through out his body overflowing the blissful blackness of his sleep. He knew the touch and snuggled down into his bed, letting the dream wash over him. It had been so long since she'd been with him, except in his dreams. He missed her. He missed the very idea of her.

"Sev."

He heard her voice and shifted closer to the sound while resisting the force pulling him toward consciousness. He could feel her fingers playing with his hair, pushing it behind his ears and caressing his cheek. "Bella," he sighed.

"Sev, wake up," Arabella said, "Please."

His eyes snapped open at the strained quality in her usually calm, rich voice. He smiled slightly at seeing her lying on her side facing him; even knowing she was distressed didn't stop the contentment at waking in her presence. The smile faded quickly though as he recognized the trouble expression on her face and the worry that clouded her eyes. Reaching out, he returned her caress, gently tracing the outline of her face with a finger as the sleep cleared from his brain.

"How is Dr. Granger?" He asked softly and watched the emotions warring within her eyes just before she rolled onto her back. Pushing himself up on his elbow, he shifted closer so that he could look down at her. He could see the water welling in her eyes and his heart plummeted to see how they glistened with both new and remembered pain. Even after fourteen years apart, he still remembered that all he could do was wait for her to talk.

"He's doesn't have much longer. He woke earlier; I gave him some pain potions and directed his energy to help him sustain consciousness for as long as possible. I woke Hermione so she could spend sometime with him before," her voice was broke and she was forced to take several deep breaths. "She's a Healer," Bella said flatly.

It took Severus several minutes to fully comprehend what or rather about whom she was talking. Hermione Granger a Healer? He had a hard time believing it; Granger was a Muggleborn and the chances of one of the ancient gifts manifesting itself in a Muggleborn were beyond astronomical. Healers, themselves, were extremely uncommon and for over a millennium had only come from one wizarding line - the Figgs. Technically, he figured it could happen, even if in all recorded history there wasn't one documented case.

"Are you sure?" He asked. His disbelief was obvious.

"Yeah, I suspected it when I found her the first time, especially after I examined her father. I confirmed it when she woke up. I think the ability was just beginning to wake when her father was hurt and her desperation triggered it full strength. She's pretty burned out right now and it's the only thing keeping her from being overwhelmed by her senses. She's going to need a lot of help once her magical strength returns."

He listened to her as she talked. Her weariness was obvious, both physically and emotionally. He knew if she didn't rest soon, her body would literally shut down, no longer capable of dealing with the demands she placed on her mind and body. Shifting his position beside her, he pulled her into arms and settled her against him, rubbing small circles against the small of her back.

"Did Dumbledore bring down Poppy?"

He felt her nod her head against his chest, affirming his suspicion. "Remus and Harry are making dinner. I sent Hermione to clean up; she needed some time alone."

"Dinner?" He asked, "How long did I sleep?" He was surprised. He hadn't intended to sleep more than an hour or two.

"It's around 5 in the evening. Harry took care of the potions, with some guidance. He was a bit nervous; scared he'd do something wrong. He did a rather good job." She yawned then continued, "He could probably use some reassurance though."

He remained there unmoving except for his hand caressing her back until he was sure she had slipped into a deep sleep. Carefully, he extricated himself and entered the bathroom, casting a silencing charm around the room so as not to disturb Bella's sleep. He almost laughed when he saw the clothes his wife had left for him, black slacks and a forest green lightweight sweater that was just warm enough to stave off the chill of stone walls. Sighing, he resigned himself to humoring Arabella's choice in clothing, at least until he could make it to his quarters to change. Quickly, he showered and dressed. He paused in the doorway of the bathroom, just watching Arabella sleep for a moment. Walking over to her, he kissed her briefly on the forehead before go to the door. He opened it to find Sirius in dog form sitting patiently on the other side. Stepping back, he motioned the dog to enter; for a moment their eyes meet in silence before Sirius trotted over to and jumped onto the bed, curling up at Arabella's feet. As much as he disliked depending on or asking for anything from Sirius, he rather she not be alone.

With one last glance, he shut the door behind him and walked toward the common room. He found Dumbledore by the fire, a tray of food resting on the table before him. The elder wizard gestured for Severus to take a seat and help himself to the food. Sitting down on the sofa, he took a roll from the tray and picked at it half-heartedly.

"How is Arabella?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not good. She's exhausted."

The door to the infirmary swung open and both he and Dumbledore looked to see Remus exit with Harry behind him. The Headmaster sighed audibly, his eyes turning from the two figures. It was easy to see the burden that weighed the elder wizard down in that moment. "Did Arabella tell you what caused Ms. Granger's condition?"

"She's a Healer." He answered simply.

"Poor child," he whispered, shaking his head slightly, "We'll have to protect her," Dumbledore said, his attention fixed on the duo approaching. Severus felt a surge of protectiveness surge through him at the mention of the young woman; he felt it on countless occasions when Arabella, and more recently, Harry were hurt or threatened.

"WWN is reporting the Grangers' deaths; Fudge released a statement claiming it was an accident; that she was likely attempting some illegal magic." Remus said softly as he reached the sitting area, disgust clearly evident in his voice.

"It is likely for the best," Severus sighed.

"Best?! What the hell are you talking about?" Harry hissed, "She just lost everything and you say it's for the best?"

Severus flinched at the anger and resentment he heard in Harry's voice. He looked up at his son and saw the pain, frustration and guilt that were bubbling just under his surface. He could see that Harry was on the verge of cracking and wished there was something he could do to help or comfort him.

"Severus, perhaps you should explain?" Dumbledore stated.

He nodded then stated with a false calm, "As long as Voldemort thinks she, they, are dead, he won't be hunting her down. The best way to keep her safe and alive is to make sure she stays dead."

"He's right, Harry," Remus stated in a resigned voice.

"I know." Severus almost missed his son's softly spoken words. He watched Remus place a comforting hand on Harry's arm before glancing over at him. "So what do we do now?" Harry asked as he walked over and collapsed onto the opposite corner of the sofa from Severus.

"For now, Harry, we wait," Dumbledore said softly. "I believe both you and Ms. Granger have enough to deal with just now."

An uneasy silence settled over the group for several minutes, before Dumbledore sighed and rose from his seat.

"If you will excuse me, gentleman, there are things I must attend to," he said. "Remus, will you accompany me? There is something I would like to discuss with you."

Remus nodded, casting Harry a sympathetic look before following the headmaster out of the room leaving them alone in the room. Several awkward minutes went by as Severus struggled to find something to say to his son. He could see the boy - young man - slumped back against the sofa looking worn and exhausted yet fighting to stay awake. Finally, his eyelids slid shut and didn't flutter open again. Pulling out his wand, Severus quickly drew out his wand and whispered a sound muting charm to keep any sudden or loud noises from waking Harry then settled back down in his chair, prepared to act as a sentinel guarding his sleep from nightmares.

He watched Harry sleep for several minutes and felt the awe and trepidation wash over him anew. Severus didn't think he would ever adjust to the power of the emotions the simple sight of his child evoked in him. The first time he'd seen Harry after remembering the truth of his parentage, his body had fairly trembled with the overwhelming emotions - love, fear and protectiveness. The sheer intensity had driven him from the great hall; even now he could still feel the internal shaking.

Harry shifted in his sleep and Severus tensed, prepared to leap to the young man's side in aide. Instead of showing any signs of distress, however, Harry settled more comfortable into the sofa and seemed to drift into a deeper sleep. Relieved, Severus leaned back in the armchair and idly fingered the chain around his neck as he remembered a brief time when soothing Harry back to sleep had been an easy task. Unconsciously, he pulled the chain out from under his sweater until the small glass ball that hung from it rested in his hands. As he rolled the ball lightly through his fingers, he could almost hear his own voice soothing an infant Harry; he could feel the weight of a phantom child against his chest as he breathing slowly evened out in a restful pattern.

"Professor?"

The soft, hesitant voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to see the red, tear-stained face of Hermione Granger. He looked up at her from his seated position for several moments before silently gesturing toward the unused side of the sofa. Quietly, the young woman took the seat, nearly curling into a ball by pulling her knees in tightly to her chest. He could see the goose pimples dotting her exposed arms and instinctively summoned a blanket. With the warm fleece throw blanket in hand, he rose from his seat and gently wrapped the blanket around the shoulders of the slightly shaking young girl. As he slid back into the armchair, he noticed her wide-eyed, startled expression and tried to keep a smirk off his face. She glanced down quickly, breaking the eye contact but he could see her studying him out of the corner of her eye. Despite the way her hair was hiding her face and thus her expression, or perhaps because of it, he found him self struck by her sudden and strong resemblance to Arabella and he felt his breath quicken slightly. He quickly dismissed any odd suspicions, marking it up to the strain and the similarity in situations between the two women. The two females had very little in common, appearance wise. Their hair and eyes were very different in color; in actuality, Ms. Granger looked far more like Arabella's mother than Arabella herself. Yet, there had been something in the way she looked at him.

"Is that a Memoria Globe, Professor?"

Granger's voice startled him from his introspection, for a moment he couldn't fathom what she was talking about; at least until he shifted his position and felt the bouncing weight of the memory ball hitting his arm. Looking down, he grasped the globe in his hand and rolled it over his fingers. "Yes, Ms. Granger, it is indeed a Memoria Globe," he replied in a cool but not unkind tone. "Would you care to examine it?"

At her hesitant nod, Severus removed the chain from his neck and placed the orb and chain in her hand. Carefully, she retracted her hand and held the small globe up close to her face.

"I've read about these, but never actually seen one. It's beautiful; two glass globes, one inside the other with the Memoria mist filling the gap. The inner globe looks like its dark blue or maybe dark green; was this made in Avalon, sir?" she asked, her amazement clear in her voice.

"No," he replied. He wasn't surprised she knew the significance of the color of the interior orb and the connection to Avalon and old magics; he would have been more surprised if she hadn't. "But it was made with water from Avalon's well."

Even as she spoke, she never looked up from the ornament in her hand. He watched her running her fingers over what appeared to be etchings in the glass. "Is there significance to the engraving?" she asked, looking up at him for the first time since taking the orb.

He nodded his head, "It's a prayer. It asks the powers that be to protect that which is held most dear and represented by what is kept within the globe."

She smiled slightly, the small curl of her lips enough to convey a sense of bitter-sweetness that, again, reminded him sharply of Arabella.

"Will you show," Granger started, only to stop with a stricken look on her face, "I'm sorry, Professor. That was rude of me." She finished and held out the globe to him in a slightly trembling hand.

Severus took the Memoria globe from her hand and watched as she pulled back into herself, both physically and emotionally. She looked so frail and frightened as she sat there. Frail and frightened, two words he usually didn't associate with a Gryffindor. Harry moved in his sleep and Severus eyes flashed towards him. He looked peaceful now and Severus tried to remember the last time he'd been able to watch him sleep without him being so drugged up he wouldn't have known if Voldemort himself had entered the room. Looking down at the ball again, he concentrated on the memory. Extending his hand, he whispered "arddan.gros"1 and smiled as the gold light burst forth from the small globe.

He heard Granger's gasp of wonder as the light shifted into images and the soft sound of a laughing toddler filled the room. Severus watched as a young Harry toddled around while James and Sirius pretended to sneak up on him. Each time they would catch him they would grab him by the waist and toss him in the air. The boy would squeal in delight only to land safely on his feet and start the game again. In the midst of the game, Harry suddenly spotted Severus walking toward the group and took off towards him in a fashion that passed for running in one-year olds, giggling madly. Severus had paused, leaned low and scooped the boy up, tossing him in the air, then settling the boy on his hip as he continued his walk toward the group.

As he watched the recorded scene playback, he could almost feel the weight of the boy in his arms again and had to fight against the pain it caused him to realize just how much he'd missed in Harry's life. Swallowing to force the tightness in his chest down, he locked his face in a neutral expression and watched as the scene changed again. This time he could see Harry standing on the edge of a blanket, pushing against the magical barrier and crying. He could hear Lily cooing to him, trying to calm him with her voice while she and Arabella worked at preparing lunch. He could see the hints of amusement on both the women's faces when Harry fell, landing on his bottom and continued to pout before giving up on them altogether and crawling to the other side of the blanket. His little face lit up and he started mumbling nonsense words as he extended his pudgy arms toward someone in front of him.

Severus felt his heart quicken as he recognized the images playing out before him; he knew that the person Harry was reaching for in the image was him. He smiled slightly at the expression on the tired little boy's face. Suddenly, the image flashed brightly and Harry tumbled through the barrier, letting out a startled cry. Three startled cries of "Harry!" emanated from the image and Severus could see his own image rush into view as he scooped up the crying toddler and frantically checked him over before clutching the child to him, rocking him slowly and whispering reassurances to the boy and the two startled woman who rushed them. Sev remembered the terror he had felt when Harry's accidental magic had caused him to disappear in a that flash of light and how he had wanted, no needed to continue holding the boy to reassure himself he was okay. As the image began to fade he could hear himself murmuring to the calming child, "Shh, Harry. It's okay. I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you. It's okay."

Even after the projecting light from the orb dissipated, Severus eyes remained trained where the images had been.

"Does Harry know about that?"

The girl's voice was hushed and hesitant and as Severus turned toward her, he found her looking directly at him as if she had been studying him. He stared at her, trying to judge what it was she was really asking him.

"Does he remember this specific occasion, I do not know. He is aware that we were . . ." he paused, titling his head slightly as he looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes, "closer when he was a small child."

"Then why have you been..." she started to demand, her confusion and anger on her friends behalf quite evident. Severus had no doubt that her reaction was also intensified by her current circumstance.

"That is not for you to know, Ms. Granger," he replied, cutting off her inquiry sharply. She sat back as if slapped by his rebuke and he felt immediate regret at his tone. He willed his expression to soften before continuing in a more gentle tone, "You need to rest, Ms. Granger."

Rising from his chair, he pointed his wand at his armchair, whispered a spell to transfigure and meld the armchair into the sofa, expanding it into an "L" shape. Taking one of the pillows, he transfigured it into a softer, bed pillow and dropped at the end of the sofa. He waited for her to shift her position and finally raised an eyebrow in question when she didn't move.

"I don't want to sleep," she said softly.

When she glanced up at him, her eyes were glassy and frightened and he felt something tug at his heart. Cursing internally, he said, "I will remain here, Ms. Granger. At the first signs of a nightmare, I promise to wake you." Still, she didn't move, only glanced down at her tightly clenched hands. Taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to yell, Severus tried again, "Ms. Granger, you've had traumatic experience. I am sure Arabella explained it to you." He waited for her to nod and confirm his suspicions, "Then you already know your body needs rest to recuperate. If you insist on not sleeping, I will be forced into giving you a sleeping draught. If that happens, Arabella will forbid you from participating in whatever happens tonight. It is your choice."

She looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes brimming with tears, but slowly moved to lie down on the sofa. He watched as her eyes fluttered a few times before her body relaxed into much needed sleep. Walking across the sitting area, he took a seat in the remaining armchair. Pulling out his wand, he extended the sound muting charm to cover the Granger girl as well, summoned a book from the shelf, dimmed the lights and settled in for the next few hours of guarding the sleep of two blameless children from the spectors that would torment them.

(July 24, 1995)

A man whimpered as the echoing pains of a Tormenta curse rippled through his body.

“You are fortunate, Pet-terrr. I would have killed you for your little missstake, but it hasss led to ssssome rattthhher enjoyable momentsss.” The voice hissed from the darkness. The body on the floor remained in a huddled ball, cowering in the shadows. “Hold out your arm, Pet-terrr,” he demanded.

The trembling man extended his arm only to scream in renewed pain as a hand of red and twisted flesh grasped it. In a matter of moments, popping noise could be heard as dark robed and silver masked individuals began to appear.

“Welcome, my Deatthh Eat-ttersss,” he called before approaching one of the taller men, “Ahhhhhh, my loyal Ssseverrrrusss. You did well. Passssed your test. I am pleassssed with you.” He laughed under his breath, “Yesss, quite pleasssed.”

He walked around the men in the circle, “I have a misssion for you, my faithful. I wisssh to make Har-rry Pot-terrr sssuf-ferr. I wish to sstrip him of everyone he caresss about, I want him to beg for hisss own death.” He laughed; it was a rough, cold sound that stopped abruptly and was followed by a very low harsh hiss. “Kill hisss family, break hisss friendsss. Be CAREFUL how you do it. I don’t want the Minissstry believing that missserable brat or that meddleding old man just yet. I have my plansss for them. Do not harm the Pot-tter himsself. You will leave HIM to me.”

There was a rustle of robes and another hooded figured entered the room. He dropped to his knees before the dark lord, “Forgive my tardiness, my lord. I had trouble escaping Fudge.”

The Dark Lord stepped back, his eyes narrowed, “I will forgive you, my dear Luciussss. But firssst, a sssuitable punishment, I think.”

Harry bolted into a sitting position, breathing heavily in his nightmare-induced, panicked state. He placed the palm of his hand to his scar, immediately pressing down against the pain. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes as he fought against the anger, fear, frustration, and lingering pain his nightmare vision had induced. It took several minutes before the intense desire to cry and scream melted away leaving behind a familiar aching sadness. As he had done every morning for the past two weeks, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and navigated the dark but familiar room that had been assigned to him in the caverns deep beneath Hogwarts. Not wanting to trigger the lights and alert anyone, he groped around in the blackness until he found a pair of jeans, t-shirt and sweatshirt and quickly dressed. On his hands and knees, he found his sneakers, put them on and walked in the direction of his desk. He found his wand and the port key the Headmaster had given him.

He activated the portkey to find himself in the apartments that had been assigned to Arabella in one of the towers of Hogwarts. Glad for the faint light that drifted in through the windows, Harry quickly maneuvered around the boxes and covered furniture, grabbed his broom from where he had left it leaning against a wall and quickly made his way out of the rooms. He practically ran through the halls and out of the castle. He flew around the outskirts of the school, ultimately landing atop one of the outcroppings that overlooked the lake. Dropping his broom beside him, he sat down and pulled his legs into his chest and stared out over the water.

It wasn’t long before he felt the telltale stinging in his eyes and the tightening of his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut and biting down on his lip, Harry tried to breathe deeply, refusing to cry. It had been less than a month since his identity had been ripped from him. It had been two weeks since Professor Snape had shown up at Arabella’s and brought him back to Hogwart’s. Two weeks since he caused the death of his friend’s parents by simply being her friend. Two weeks since anyone seemed to pay him anything more than a passing bit of attention. He wished Dumbledore hadn’t sent away Sirius and Remus. At least then he’d have someone to talk to. He tried talking to Arabella or Professor Snape, but they always seemed too busy or too tired to talk with him; Hermione or Dr. Granger always seemed to need their attention more than he did.

The thought of Hermione hurt most. He watched her sitting by her father’s side, putting on a brave face as she talked to him or just listened while Arabella instructed her in simple tasks. Every time their eyes had met, he had seen her despair, her fear and known that she blamed him. She hadn’t spoken to him once since waking up. When she wasn’t with Arabella and her father, Harry knew she would be with Professor Snape working quietly on some potion or another for her father. He had found them working together in the small lab on the fourth day after their arrival at the Order’s Headquarters. He had wanted to speak to his father and try to get to know him but it was obvious he would have been intruding, not to mention that there was simply no room for him in the small alcove that housed the lab.

Dr. Granger died two days ago. Last night, Snape, Bella and Hermione had placed Hermione’s parents in the Figg family crypt in the Hogsmeade cemetery. It was close to Hogwarts and it was also the safest place, given that Arabella has a specially targeted portkey to transport them direct to the crypt so as not to be seen. Harry had wanted to go with them, but even if Hermione had wanted him there, it just wasn’t a possibility. Due to the small space available in the crypt and the two coffins they were taking with them, there hadn’t been room, so he had been left behind.

Harry had never been more relieved than when an hour or two after Snape, Arabella and Hermione had left, Dumbledore had appeared with Ron in tow. He finally had someone to talk to. As luck would have it though, when Hermione, Snape and Arabella had returned a few minutes later, Ron had jumped to his feet, going straight to Hermione. Harry watched the awkward greeting followed by the stoic façade Hermione wore begin to crumble. It didn’t take long for Ron to close the distance and gather her in his arms, quietly comforting her. Harry just watched, caught between his relief that Ron had somehow managed to know what Hermione needed and act on it and feeling all the more isolated, knowing he wasn’t wanted there. Professor Snape had already taken Arabella back to her chambers to rest, so her company was out of the question. He felt a painful sinking feeling, though, when he realized just how much she really needed her rest then. He had spent a lot of time reading about Healers and how the gift works since there wasn’t really anything else to do, so he knew that she needed to sleep for quite a while to fully recoup her strength. With one last glance toward Ron and Hermione, he had retreated to his room. As hard as he tried though, he couldn’t get the image of a sobbing Hermione sitting on the sofa as a slightly uncomfortable Ron tried to comfort her.

Harry tried to postpone going back to the underground Headquarters of the Order, better known as Haven, but as the sun grew brighter in the sky, he knew he had to return. Mounting his broomstick, he flew back to the castle and quickly headed towards Arabella’s rooms. Leaning his broom against the wall by the entrance, he grabbed his portkey and let it transport him down to the dark tunnels under Hogwarts. He walked quickly but quietly through the darkened and musty tunnels toward the dim light of Haven’s common room. He cursed under his breath as the sound of conversation drifted to him. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to anybody; he didn’t want to explain where he’d been or justify his actions. He just wanted to go back to his room and slip into a deep, oblivious sleep and forget the rest of the world and life in general. He let out a soft but bitter laugh at the idea; his sleep was anything but oblivious. More often, it was like a trip to his own personal hell.

As he grew closer to the common room, he could make out the voices well enough to recognize their owners and slowed his approach. Arabella and Remus were talking in quiet tones and even from a distance, Harry could easily make out the worry in her voice.

“Bella, you should get some sleep.”

Remus’ said in a patient and soothing tone. The only sound that met the statement, however, was the even pacing sound Harry guessed was Arabella.

“Bella, please.” Remus pleaded.

“No,” she replied, and from the sound of it, never stopped pacing. “Not until they are both back here safe and happy.” There was silence for a moment and Harry guessed that Remus must have given her one of his looks because she sounded resigned when she continued, “Fine, I will settle for safe and here where I can take care of them.”

“They are both pretty good at taking care of themselves, Bella. They need you to take of yourself. You can’t be any good to them if you’re exhausted and burnt-out.” Remus paused for a moment then sighed, “Fine. At least come sit down?”

It was quiet for a moment as Harry drew closer to the opening into the common room. Taking cover in one of the outcroppings from the wall, he slid to the ground and continued listening to Remus and Arabella. While part of him felt guilty for eavesdropping, he had a greater desire to sit and listen and maybe find out just where he fit in the larger picture.

“What am I going to do, Remi? How am I supposed to fix this?” Her voice sounded so weary and sad; some of Harry’s anger toward her started to melt away. He didn’t like hearing that amount of pain in anyone’s voice, much less Bella’s. “You know he’s been crying in his sleep. Even when the nightmares leave him alone, he doesn’t get to sleep peacefully.”

He could hear the depth of despair in her voice, like it was breaking her heart to know that Snape was in so much emotional pain. Harry smiled slightly; knowing that, at least, it meant the man felt some distress. A small part of him hoped it meant the Professor cared about him.

“You know I have only actually seen Sev cry four times, three of them including last night, were for Harry. He’s picked up his old habit of watching Harry sleep and he noticed last night that Harry was crying in his sleep. It broke Sev’s heart, he felt like such a bastard for not doing something to help Harry earlier. He told me about all the crap he’s put Harry through.” She paused only to say in a quiet, sad tone, “He’s so angry at Dumbledore; almost as angry as he is with himself, but he doesn’t know how to express it and it hurts him so much.”

Harry barely noticed the tightness of Arabella’s voice, as if she was putting a great deal of effort into restraining her emotions. He felt a small sense of gratification to know that the Professor was suffering over all times he had hurt him. The fact that Snape felt guilty enough to check up on him at night did little to remove the sting of not being worthy of his time during the day.

“All you can do is be there for them as they work it out for themselves, you know that.” Remus replied in a soft, soothing voice. “Now, I want you to get some sleep.” Harry could hear Arabella protest, but Remus cut her off, “You are too tired to even think straight. I’ll go look for Harry.”

There was a long silence before Arabella responded, “He’s alone, Remus. He has distanced himself from all of us, the situation with Hermione hasn’t helped; she’s been directing her fear and pain at him. Harry took it and isolated himself.”

“I’ll talk to him, I promise. Now, please go get some sleep. I will wake you in a few hours.” Remus said.

“You promise?” Arabella asked. She sounded very tired yet hopeful. “If he needs me, you’ll come get me?”

Harry didn’t hear Remus respond but he did hear someone open and shut a door.

“You can come in now, Harry.”

Remus called so softly that Harry almost missed it. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off the wall he was leaning against and slowly walked into the Haven Common Room. He walked into the room, his eyes narrowed as he glanced about the room and avoided looking in Remus’ direction. Moving over to the sitting area, he dropped himself sullenly down onto the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. He fixed his eyes on the clock that sat on the mantle above the fireplace; it read 7:37. If he was lucky, Remus would get on with his “talk” and he would still have enough time to grab breakfast before Hermione and Ron woke up. He wasn’t sure he could deal with any more of Hermione’s cold stares or any more of Ron’s “poor Hermione, what can I do” dribbling.

He felt awful about the death of her parents; he couldn’t fathom the grief she must be feeling at their loss. It was painful enough knowing he would never know his parents, never see or hear them except in his nightmares. The very thought of something happening to Sirius, who was the closest thing he had to a parent for a long time, left an aching tightness in his chest that nearly choked him.

Then there was the other “father” that belonged to the discordant memories he had floating around in his head. It was so hard sometimes to fit those memories into the life he lived outside of those brief times; they were like a nice dream and he kept expecting to wake up and find those memories were not real. Yet they were; he had a father that the boy he had been loved, even if he despised the same man in his other memories. It was just so confusing, but what was more frightening was the terror that had forced him from his vision this morning, fear inspired by the danger to his father.

He snorted and chuckled bitterly at the thought. Father! Really! Severus Snape was less of a father to him than, well, Professor Snape had ever been to him. Harry had allowed himself to entertain the idea briefly that Snape actually cared for him, that Bella and the others might have been right. At the most, Snape saw him as an obligation. That much was clear by the way he disappeared in the past week, always there for Bella or even Poor Hermione, but never for him. The worst part was he probably wouldn’t have even noticed if Dumbledore hadn’t sent Sirius and Remus away, leaving him to fend for himself.

And that was another thing – Dumbledore. He hadn’t seen the man since he brought Ron down, and then only briefly. He had come down several times before that, but each time he had gone straight in to see Arabella and Hermione. He never had time to sit and talk to Harry, even when Harry sought him out. He would just make up some excuse about being busy and off he’d go.

“Finished stewing yet?” Remus asked.

Harry didn’t acknowledge him.

“I know you are upset, Harry. You’ve had a miserable month and more than your fair share of life altering events, but I promise it will help to talk about it.”

Remus voice was soft and there was an element of understanding to his tone that was genuine and not just in his caring to know but in the empathy it carried. It was like he truly could understand him. It didn’t make Harry feel any better. If anything it made him feel worse, angry.

Jumping to his feet, Harry spun around to face Remus, “Tell me, how is talking about being responsible for not only the death of an innocent person but the fact that Voldemort is now a living, breathing person again; how is it supposed to fix the fact that my whole life was a big lie; that I am not the son of a good man like James Potter, but the unwanted son of slimy git of a Death Eater who raped my mother? How will talking about the fact that Arabella was forced to sacrifice her life to look out for her husband’s bastard instead of having the life she really wanted? If anything, this past week has proved she doesn’t really want to be around me, she certainly hasn’t made much of an effort, has she? And how will it make me feel better that one of my best friend’s blames me for the death of her parents?”

His outburst had started in a harsh but even tone and ended in full-blown yell. Turning on his heels, he stormed from the common room, barely registering the shocked and sad expression on Remus’ face. When he reached his room, he shoved the door open then slammed it shut behind him. He paced back and forth for a long time, waiting for Remus or Arabella to come barging through the door and give him what-for; on some level he knew his behavior towards Remus was uncalled for, that what he said was not true, especially the part about Snape raping his Mum. Arabella, Sirius and Remus had explained quite a bit about what happened to him, he knew the general story behind it all. At the moment, however, he was just too angry to think clearly.

Eventually it became obvious that no one was coming. Dropping down on his bed, he stared at the ground for a few moments, trying to force his mind to clear, to stop thinking about everything and anything. It just hurt too damn much. He wished he could just go to sleep, wake up and realize it was all just another bad dream. With a sigh, he began stripping down to his briefs and climbed under the covers, not caring that his dirty clothes were strewn on the floor beside the bed. He triggered the old spell that controlled the lights and let the blackness encompass the room. Punching his pillow a few times, he curled up and closed his eyes, praying for the blissfulness of undisturbed sleep.

"Harry?"

Harry could hear a soft voice calling to him and groaned as it drew him from the first relatively undisturbed sleep he'd had in weeks. Unlike his many other dreams, this one seemed to fade the nearer to conscious his mind came leaving only a lingering sense of laugher and safety. With regret he opened his eyes and blinked several times in the dim light.

"Afternoon, sleepyhead."

Sitting up in bed he looked in the direction the voice had come from to see Ginny Weasley sitting crossed-legged caddy-corner to him with his dark green, terry cloth robe folded on her lap. He flushed bright red as it occurred to him that he was wearing only his underwear under his covers. Glancing quickly toward the floor, he noticed his discarded clothes were gone.

"Lady Figg came in with an elf earlier and took the dirty clothes. She left clean clothes for you in your bathroom. Don't worry, I'll give you the robe once we talk."

"Talk?" Harry asked a bit harshly, looking back at her.

"I have six older brothers and survived three years getting top marks with Professor Snape, you're going to have to do better than that if you want to intimidate me," Ginny said with a smile.

Harry stared at her dumbfounded. Ginny had managed to get over most of her trepidation in talking to him, but her confidence here was unprecedented. She blushed under his scrutiny and looked down at her lap, her hands twisting anxiously.

"I just thought you might want someone to talk to. I was listening to Hermione earlier and from what she was saying, I am guessing you exiled yourself to your room or something, because even when I asked her she didn't really seem to know what you had been doing these past few weeks. Even that dunce of a brother I have didn't seem to connect Arabella the healer with Arabella Figg, your godmother."

This time it was Harry who broke eye contact, suddenly finding his hands interesting even as he bit back mild irritation. For the past week, he had been furious that no one seemed to notice him, now someone had and he was still finding it irritating. He didn't really want to talk about it; he just wanted to be left alone.

"I overheard Arabella and Remus talking in the kitchen area, she seemed really upset." Ginny said softly, half under her breath so that Harry nearly missed it. "Remus told her what you said to him. It's why I came looking for you. I thought you could use someone to talk to, someone whose only motive was to help you, not Hermione or Arabella or even Professor Snape." She said the last name in a hesitant whisper.

He could feel the panic induced adrenalin pouring into his bloodstream as he stared at Ginny wide-eyed. She couldn't know! He wasn't ready yet!

"So, how are you?" Ginny asked in a tentative voice, her hands fiddling nervously with the fabric of the robe.

Harry just sat there, unsure of what to say. The overwhelming anger he'd felt that morning had faded somewhat, leaving him in a malaise tinted slightly by a lingering bitterness. What was he supposed to tell her? That he was fine? He looked up at her, let their eyes met and realized she probably already knew the answer.

He shrugged before asking, "You heard everything?"

"Yeah, he even repeated it twice." She replied softly.

Silence descended again as he sat there, torn between feeling guilty over his behavior and yet oddly justified at the same time.

"I'm pretty sure they understand, Harry. Lady Figg even said so before, well, before I decided to stop eavesdropping and come find you."

"I don't even know who I am anymore." Harry whispered softly, not sure why he was confiding that to his best friend's little sister.

"I know what that's like, Harry. To stare at yourself in the mirror and not be really sure it is the real you staring back." She paused and Harry looked over at her and saw her body shake as if a piece of ice had been dropped down her back.

"The Diary?" Harry asked and watched as Ginny nodded.

"None of this changes who you are. You're still the boy who saved the Philosopher's Stone, who saved me from Tom and you're still the Tri-Wizard Champion who risked his life to bring Cedric home. You're still brave and smart and loyal. You're still Harry. Just Harry." Ginny had such an earnest, sincere expression on her face and he found it oddly comforting.

"Ms. Weasley is a very smart young woman, Harry. I'd listen to her, if I were you." Remus said from the doorway. Harry flushed brightly as he looked up at the man; embarrassed he had just been caught, barely dressed, with a girl in his room. Remus chuckled.

"I'm sorry for screaming at you, Remus. You didn't deserve that." Harry said sincerely.

"Apology accepted. Did it help?"

Harry looked at the older man quizzically as he crossed the room and settled himself at the foot of the bed opposite Ginny.

"Did letting it all out make you feel any better?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I'm glad. Just promise me that you will talk to someone before it gets to bad again, okay? I know this week wasn't easy, but you could have at least tried to owl Sirius or myself."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to contact you?"

"And when has that ever stopped you before?"

Harry smiled, somewhat chagrined. "I promise," he said.

"Good. I wouldn't want you to become an emotionally repressed git like someone else we both know."

Harry snorted.

"Look on the bright side, Harry. Professor Snape can't make any more derogatory comments about you being just like your father. If you give him a chance, he might actually be nice to you. Bill is still convinced he's a good person, he actually likes him." Ginny said with a smile.

Remus smiled at her and then turned back to Harry. "Bella is making an early dinner. She expects you in the kitchen to help her. Why don't you go take a shower and get dressed and well meet you in the kitchen?"

Harry nodded and caught the robe Ginny tossed at him before she scrambled off the bed and out the door, calling over her shoulder to for him to "hurry up already."

Remus chuckled at Ginny's exit then turned back to Harry with an eyebrow raised. "So, do I need to make sure that Bella or Snape has that talk with you?" He said teasingly, fighting to keep from smiling as he spoke.

Harry was baffled for a few seconds as to Remus' meaning before he flushed crimson and his eyes widened in shock. "No!" He stated fairly loudly which only cause Remus to laugh again. "It's nothing like that. She's a friend; little sister of a friend actually." He paused, looking down at his hands, "Besides, I have too many other things to worry about without adding that trouble to the heap. I don't think I would want to risk losing her friendship, either."

Remus' smile was tainted slightly with sadness as he nodded his understanding. He then rose from his seat on the bed, "Get cleaned up. We'll be in the kitchen," he said and then left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Climbing out of his bed, he stretched as he walked toward his bathroom and quickly showered and dressed. He exited the bathroom and walked toward his door, almost missing the folded parchment that was sitting on top of his tussled bed. Walking over, he lifted the letter and felt his hands shake slightly as he recognized his name in the neat, precise handwriting of Professor Snape.

Turning the letter over, he broke open the seal and carefully unfolded the letter. Another piece of folded parchment fell from within the folded letter and only Harry's quick reflexes allowed him to catch it before it fell to the floor. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he set the first letter down beside him and examined the folded paper, seeing bits and pieces of oddly familiar, yet child-like handwriting. Unfolding it, he noticed the drawing and almost immediately recognized it from his dreams and memories. In the picture, a small black haired boy stood between two black haired adults, the older male's hair reached to his chin. Both adults held wands in their free hands. It was the family picture he had draw for his "father" when he was five; he had felt bad for his father being so far from him and Bella, so he had drawn him a family portrait so he could feel closer to them.

Flipping the page over, he read his own writing on the back:

Dear Father,

All the kids at school have pictures of them with their mums and dads. I know we can't get one taken with us, so I thought I would draw one for you instead. Aunt Bella told me some new stories about you and Mum and her at school and some of Dad and Uncles Sirius and Remus, too. I wish I could be there with you. Please come and get us soon.

I love you, papa.

Harry

For a moment he couldn't believe that Snape had actually kept the picture all this time; didn't you only do things like that if you cared? And if he'd cared so much, why did he treat him like crap for so long? Looking to his side, he reached down and lifted the letter from Severus and began to read,

Dear Harry,

Please forgive me for not acknowledging your letter sooner. I have tried for the better part of the last two weeks to find the words to explain myself, but inter-personal communication has never been one of my stronger skills and I find myself at a loss for words or the courage to express myself. I would appreciate the opportunity to get to know you and if you are still so inclined, I have a series of tasks to do for tomorrow in the castle and would appreciate you company. I invite you to join me if you are interested.

Your Father,

Severus Snape

Harry, if you are not interested, I will understand. I know I have not shown it at all in the past four years, but I do care for you. I love you, Harry. Always will. I am glad you and Bella are home. - Papa

Harry found himself compelled to read the letter over twice before the words actually began to register on his brain. Looking at the letter carefully, the top portion had obviously been written with a great deal of care paid to the details. Every letter was perfect in size, shape and proportion. The lines were straight and evenly spaced. The latter half was the complete opposite. The ink was a slightly different shade and the handwriting slightly sloppy, as if he had written the words quickly to prevent himself from losing courage.

He felt his body tremble slightly as an odd anxiety ran through him. He wanted to be happy, the part that represented those few discordant memories of Arabella and her stories was happy. That little boy's father, his papa, had finally come for him. But that other part of him, the part that was Harry POTTER was having trouble reconciling it all or even wanting it. That part of him couldn't forget four years of mutual dislike that was a far sight too close to hatred for comfort.

Harry heard the soft knock on his door and called out "Come in," absently as he continued to stare down at the parchment. He heard the door open slightly, but when no one spoke or entered the room, he looked up and saw Severus Snape watching him from the doorway. The man wore his usual controlled expression, but his eyes weren't their cold empty abysses with which he was familiar. While they seemed just as unreadable as before there was a soft or perhaps warmer quality to them now. He felt a flash of irritation at this; that the man would change his attitude toward him because of shared blood was upsetting, like it wasn't truly Harry, the person that he cared about.

For an instant, Snape's mask dropped revealing sadness and regret before it reestablished itself, leaving Harry feeling a bit contrite.

"I see you've read the letter." Snape said matter-of-factly with perhaps a bit of a harsh edge.

"Yes sir." Harry replied.

The silence stretched painfully as father and son stared at each other. Eventually, the Professor broke eye contact, looking instead just over Harry's shoulder.

"Arabella wanted you to join her in the kitchen as soon as you are dressed."

Harry felt like blinders had been removed from his eyes when he heard the slight unsteadiness his father's words. Professor Snape's voice was unusually thick, tense; like he was hurt or upset. It occurred to Harry that Snape must think he was rejecting the offer to spend time together, much like Harry had believed when his father had failed to even mention receiving his letter. It wasn't until the man turned and started to walk away that Harry made his decision.

"Professor!" Harry called after, rising from his bed quickly, taking his letter and folding the pieces together as he walked over to the older man. His father had stopped in his tracks and turned back slightly when Harry had called after him. Taking the opportunity, Harry ignored his nervousness and walked to his father and stood so he could see the man's face. "If the offer still stands, I would like to accompany you tomorrow," he said simply.

A small smile curled his father's lips and he nodded once in acknowledgement. Harry smiled slightly in return. He felt a bit better as he walked beside Severus Snape toward Haven's kitchen. There was still so much he didn't understand, but at least he felt like he was learning.

July 25

The day started quite early, but no earlier than Harry was used to; he and Professor Snape arrived in the main room of the tower quarters before the sun was had risen. Harry surmised that the rooms must have belonged to Arabella in the past. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but once they did he was surprised to find it completely empty. The boxes, trunks and covered furniture that had littered the room for the past two weeks were gone. With a wave of his wand, the Professor lit the candles in the hurricane lamps, on the fireplace mantle, hearth and in the chandeliers that hung from beams in the high ceiling.

For the first time, Harry took a good look around the room. Arabella's quarters were located in the tower directly above the dungeons. Unlike Gryffindor Tower, however, the room was square. With light filling the room he could see that the stone walls had been plastered and painted in a smoky blue color. The colors had long since faded but there were several odd spots on the walls where the paint was darker because of the draped paintings that had hung there until yesterday. He watched the Professor look around the room; his expression was almost soft or thoughtful, as if the man saw something other than an empty room and faded walls.

Curious to know what Snape was thinking about, Harry asked, "Professor, were these Arabella's rooms before?"

His question obviously startled the Professor, who spun around to face him; the Professor's previously open expression morphed into his usual controlled visage and a familiar harsh and stern gleam flashed in his eyes. His eyes softened again a moment later.

"Yes, these were our quarters," he said a bit sharply and turned away from him. "Come, Harry." Snape moved quickly toward the stairwell and stopped beside the wall beneath the stairs. Snape tapped the panels in a pattern; suddenly the center panel slid to the side to reveal an opening the size of a cupboard. Harry could feel his body tense as Snape began to step inside then hesitated and turned back to look towards him. Tentatively, the Professor reached out and grasped Harry's arm, gently pulling him toward the opening.

"It a secret passage, much like the one to the headmaster's office. This platform will take us to my private lab. It's quicker and we can go down together." He said as he maneuvered them both into the space. Harry could feel his father's hand resting firmly on his shoulder as the door closed and the alcove itself seemed to shift and descend. A short time later, the panel slid open again and the Professor gently pushed Harry out and guided him straight toward a stone wall.

"Arrdan.gos[1]," the Professor said suddenly as he continued to walk straight for the wall.

Harry barely noticed what Snape said as he tripped through the wall. Light filled the room he crossed into and he was surprised to find himself in what appeared to be the Professor's private rooms. It was nothing like he would have guessed. The dark brooding colors and the uncluttered Spartan dŽcor did fit with his imagination, but the plush, cozy sofa and armchairs complete with throw blankets were far from his expectations. The sound of his father clearing his throat caught Harry's attention; he looked up to see his father smirking him.

"Expecting Maids of Iron and coffins, were you?" Snape said in his usual tone - a flat, cold voice. Harry shifted away from him on reflex. The man staring back at him in that moment seemed every inch of the cold and cruel Professor he had known for four years. After a several moments of staring at each other, the Professor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He watched the man's features became less rigid and when the Professor opened his eyes again, the coldness was no longer there. "Would you care for some breakfast?" he said as he gestured toward a small round table on the far side of the room.

Harry nodded and followed the Professor to the table and took the seat opposite of him. His father gestured for him to help himself to the fruit as he summoned a house elf and a small, knobby creature appeared with a pop beside him.

"How may Sarri help you, Professor Snape, sir?"

Harry nibbled at some fruit while the Professor made his request; Harry then made his own breakfast order and watched the house elf disappear with a loud pop. An awkward silence engulfed the room with the elf's departure. He kept his attention on the fruit he ate, not knowing what to say to the man sitting across from him. He was still confused about what he felt or what he wanted to feel for this man. The previous night had gone a long way in easing tensions, not only between him and his father, but between himself and Arabella and Remus, as well. The food arrived quickly and they ate in silence. Occasionally, he would raise his eyes to watch the man across from him, trying to see something in him that would give Harry more of an idea as to who the man was and what he was thinking.

Harry still couldn't comprehend how a man could treat him like scum for so long and claim to love him at the same time. He couldn't accept it. And there were all the times that Snape had ridiculed his father - James Potter. How could Snape claim to have loved him and yet allowed a person he obviously despised to raise him? And what about the picture and note from when he was five; how could he claim not to have known that Harry was his? How could he have not been curious as to why it was addressed to 'Father' and 'Papa?' The more he thought about it the more agitated he became. In frustration, he stabbed at his food.

"Finished?" the Professor asked.

Harry looked at his plate and felt a bit sheepish seeing it empty. "Yes, Professor," he replied in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

Snape studied him for a minute; Harry could see the unasked questions in his eyes but choose to ignore them. "Good," Snape said, "we have plenty to do today."

The Professor dropped his napkin on his empty plate and rose from his chair walking back toward the wall. Harry rose and followed him. As he approached the wall, Snape turned toward him, "Harry, if you wish, you may address me as Severus. You do not need to stand on formalities while other students are not around." He turned back to the wall before Harry could respond and again said, "arrdan.gos" before they walked through the wall and entered a spotless lab.

"There are work robes on the stand over there," the Professor said as he talked toward what Harry assumed was a storeroom. Walking over to the stand, Harry grabbed a robe, quickly switched it for his own and then took the opportunity to look around the room, noting the multiple worktables, the shelves lined with cauldrons that were ordered not only by size, but apparently by type as well. A large desk sat, angled, in the corner opposite the "entrance" wall; two stacks of extremely neat and bound papers in the center and a lamp in the left corner. In the right corner of the desk sat two picture frames. Walking around the desk, Harry lifted one of the pictures and half-smiled at seeing himself and Arabella when he was nine. The figures in the picture smiled brightly as they waved up at him.

Harry's happiness at seeing the picture was short lived as he quickly remembered that it was taken just moments before the Dursleys had come to retrieve him and how desperate he had been to stay with Arabella. The memory, in turn, reminded him of the letter he had sent Snape asking his Father, his papa, again to come and get him. But Snape had never come; he left him with relatives who hated what he was and who treated him like a slave. Harry put down the picture, sneering as again, his anger at his father flared.

He heard the soft thud of several cauldrons settling on the workbenches, he looked up to see Snape setting out utensils by each cauldron before moving over to the only workstation without a cauldron. He watched Snape pull several bottles, jars and measuring utensils out of a box.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to be useful and help?" Snape snapped at him, although he never turned to face him.

Harry bit back a retort as he watched Snape carefully measure ingredients for a few more moments before forcing himself to calm down enough to help. He walked around so that he was standing on the opposite side of the bench from the Professor and waited for a minute before finally asking, "What should I do?"

Snape looked up at him and handed him a piece of parchment with a list of ingredients and their measurements. Looking at the list, Harry had to stop himself from doing a double take; the list looked more like ingredients for a cake than a magical potion. There was nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, vanilla, all-spice; things seemed a bit less incredulous as he neared the bottom and saw powdered dragon's hoof and other familiar, magical ingredients. He looked over to Snape and saw that he was measuring similar ingredients into small glass bowls and decided to follow suit. They worked quietly for several hours, drifting into an uneasy silence. Harry did give Snape credit for at least trying to be polite when he would periodically check the progress of the Harry's potion or offer him guidance. His behavior was definitely a far cry from his attitude in Potion's class. Over time, Harry relaxed a bit.

"SiÉSeverus, may I ask you a question?" Harry asked, scolding himself internally for allowing his voice to shake, even slightly. He spent the past few hours debating the wisdom of asking the question, but he knew he needed to hear the answer from the man's lips. He cautiously looked up from what he was ladling from the cauldron into ornate and colorful glass jars and pans; he tried hard not to burn himself in the process. Snape just looked at him, his face and eyes unreadable; Harry wished he had some clue as to what the man was thinking. It was unnerving being in a room alone with him as it was, too much like detention.

Snape nodded at him before turning back to his task of ladling his potion into a carved silver dish.

"Why didn't you ever come?"

Snape froze. Harry was taken aback when he saw even the subtle shaking of his Professor's hands as he careful lowered his ladle and turned his head so that their eyes met. The Professor's mask was firmly in place, but his eyes were anything but expressionless. For a moment, Harry thought he saw pain there.

"You said you didn't know about me, but the picture I drew - I asked my father to come and get us, get me. But you never came! Why?" The question burst out of Harry before he had a chance to even think of what he was saying. The silence in the room was suffocating; Harry could see Snape struggling for control of his emotions and took an unconscious step backwards.

"I tried." Snape said. His voice was tense and bitter. "And I didn't know; the picture was charmed. Until recently, it was addressed to Uncle Severus." Snape practically snarled the last part before turning back to his empty cauldron, yanking it from the table and carrying it to the sink. Harry watched as the Professor rolled up his sleeves and began scrubbing the cauldron by hand. Turning back to his potion, Harry resumed pouring the concoction into the decorative jars as his mind played out his father's response over and over. He had almost expected an explosion of temper not the controlled anger and pain Snape had displayed.

"What did Bella tell you about why I never came? Did she tell you I was taken to Azkaban?" Snape spoke without facing him, his voice was calm, too calm and it was cold; the tone reminded Harry of too many of his more hateful encounters with the Professor.

"She said the Ministry wouldn't allow either of you custody. And that it wasn't safe. But if you're my father, they couldn't have stopped you, not if you wanted me. Besides, if the wards around the Dursley's really are based on blood-relations than I would have been far safer with you than them." Harry voice shook slightly as he spoke. He tried to keep the edge off his tone, as well, knowing that signs of bitterness and anger wouldn't get him the answers he wanted, but it was hard. He placed the ladle he was holding down and clasped his hands together, hoping to quell the shaky feeling in his limbs. He hated feeling so unsettled and fought the urge to cry or yell that surged up as he spoke.

"And what makes you think you would have been safer with me? I keep company with Death Eaters, or have you forgotten that little fact?" Snape said sharply. Harry was very familiar with the tone; it was the same one Snape had used on him for four years. It was filled with bitterness.

Suddenly, it was too much. He knew now that coming with Snape and spending time alone with him had been a mistake. Regardless of what the man said, he obviously still disliked, if not hated, him and it surprised Harry how much that hurt to realize. He drew his arms around himself as he scanned the room's exits, quickly trying to determine which was the most expedient way to leave. He felt like a fool. He needed to get out of there. He needed to get away from Snape.

"Harry?" Snape's voice called to him questioningly.

Harry barely registered hearing his name as he took a step back. His eyes fixated on the portion of the wall that led to the secret passage back to Arabella's quarters. He wondered if he could get it open and closed again before Snape stopped him. That is, if Snape was even interested in stopping him. Walking quickly around the table, he walked toward the passageway entrance only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Snape turned him around. Shaking off the touch, Harry moved away from Snape but turned to glare at him and wait for the Professor to speak.

"I apologize, Harry. My harshness was uncalled for," Snape said.

Harry continued to glare at him, refusing to acknowledge the sincerity he saw in his father's eyes.

"I think it is time we talked. Perhaps we should take lunch."

At his own acquiescence, Harry walked back to the final simmering cauldron to reduce the heat. When he finished bottling the potion, he took his empty cauldron over to the sink and filled it with water, leaving it to soak. When he turned around Severus was waiting for him by the passage door. With a resigned sigh, he walked over and climbed into the lift and climbed in, squeezing himself into a corner to keep from touching the other man.

When the lift stopped and Harry stepped out in to the room and slouched against the wall, not bothering to look around him as he waited for Snape.

"I was beginning to wonder if you two planned on eating lunch today."

The sound of Arabella's voice caused Harry's head to snap up and turn toward the direction from which the voice emanated. Arabella stood in the center of the room next to a fully set round table, looking more rested than she had been in the past few weeks. She smiled as she walked toward them. Snape immediately walked to greet her and Harry watched as his father extended a hand to Bella, amazed at the seeming intimacy of the motion. Arabella smiled at Severus as she took his hand before facing Harry; he could see the question in her eyes as she studied him. He watched the concern spread from her eyes to the rest of her expression as she threw a questioning glance toward Severus.

"Alright, one of you, out with it." She said in a straight, matter of fact way that allowed no argument; in many ways the tone reminded him of Mrs. Weasley.

"I asked Pr.. Severus why he never came for us," Harry said, "But I just don't understand why I wouldn't have been safer with both of you!"

"Didn't Dumbledore explain to you about your mother's sacrifice - how it protected you?" Severus asked.

"He said it marked me, protected me, but he didn't tell me how."

Snape sighed and closed his eyes momentarily; Arabella placed a comforting hand on his arm and Harry watched the silent communication that passed between them.

"Harry, come on over and have a seat," Bella said, stepping back and tapping one of the chairs at the table.

Walking over, Harry dropped into the seat offered to him, crossing his arms over his chest and waited while the Professor and Arabella took the remaining two seats. They exchanged another look before his father explained, "What Dumbledore told you is only partly true. The magic of your mother's sacrifice has been kept alive all these years by your aunt's willing acceptance of you. Whatever love she has held for you, however minimal, has maintained the protection your mother's sacrifice gave you. That coupled with the Fidelas Charm and several protective wards made Privet Drive the safest place for you. Safer even than Hogwarts."

"It's one of the reasons I never told him, Harry. I wouldn't risk your safety and I had no wish to cause Sev even more pain. As much as I hate to admit it, we couldn't have protected you properly." Bella added, her voice soft and a bit sad. "Even if we had modified the charms on you so that you appeared to be our child, the chance of discovery was still too high."

Harry looked down, not exactly sure what he should be feeling at the moment. At least he understood why he had to stay with the Dursley's now, but at the same time he felt a loss he didn't understand. A soft touch on his hand drew his attention and he looked up into Arabella's compassionate eyes.

"I know you are angry and confused, Harry. You have every right to be." Arabella said.

"If I had any suspicions at the time we cast those spells that I would be separated from you, I would never of allowed it. I would have found another way." His father's voice was soft and full of regret. He sat quietly for a moment, trying to take in and make sense of what the man had said. When Harry eventually looked up he saw his father looking directly at him. His expression was softer than usual which seemed to humanize his features; making him look far from evil, as Harry had once thought. His father's eyes were as intense as ever. Harry felt like the man was willing him to let the words penetrate past the anger, confusion and resentment.

"I don't understand. Why? Weren't the charms supposed to protect me?" Harry asked, his confusion winning out over his desire to stay mad.

"The transfigurations that were used made you resemble James; the potions would have ensured that the spells not only remained effective but grew with you. Lily took it a step further. She mixed a series of charms designed to suggest, both to the conscious and unconscious mind, that you were just like James." Severus paused, glancing briefly toward Bella, who took his hand and squeezed it. "She cast them too well," Severus whispered more to himself than anyone else.

At his father's words, Harry found himself more confused than ever. How could his mother have cast the spells too well? When no answer seemed to be forth coming, he turned his attention to Arabella, who was looking at Severus with such empathy and love that Harry felt humbled and curious. Looking back at his father, he tried again to see beyond his expression. He wanted to see what Arabella saw and felt from him, but all he saw was the usual mask. After a moment, the Professor looked up at him and Harry again noticed the intensity in the man's black eyes.

"The plan was always for me to remain a part of your life, Harry. I could watch you grow up and by the time the subconscious part of the charms started to affect me, I would already have you firmly established in my heart and mind as a separate person. It would have been enough to off-set the charms effects."

"Did you hate my da... James that much?" Harry asked softly.

Snape eyes seemed to lose their focus, as if he were seeing something off in the distance, "As children, yes. I first met James when we were six. I was his and Sirius' favorite object of ridicule. They never passed up a chance to tease me or otherwise make my childhood hell."

A surge of resentment ran through him at Snape's deriding of James Potter. The man's eyes refocused on him, their intensity returning, "I know you don't like to hear it, Harry, but it's the truth. James was the Golden Boy and to him, I was justÉ" his father stopped for a moment, seeming to take a slightly deeper breath.

Harry's felt like his heart stop dead in his chest and then jumpstart and begin to race. What he was suggesting couldn't be true! Snape's comments dredged up memories of Dudley and his friend, Piers, and being called 'Freak'; the idea that James had been like them sickened him. He didn't want to believe it. Looking to Bella, Harry hoped to find denial there but instead saw an expression full of pain and sadness. She was biting her bottom lip and bright tears pooled, making her eyes shine like crystals. Harry looked away as he felt another part of the person he had been and everything he'd believed in die. He felt Bella squeeze his hand; he was peripherally aware of her moving to stand beside him. He felt her wrap her arms around him, drawing his stiff form into a comforting embrace.

Snape whispered something about getting lunch and left the room. Once he was gone, Harry felt his body beginning to relax and felt all the pain and confusion begin to seep through the walls he'd built around himself. He didn't want to cry, he wished he could go back to being angry, he wished he could yell or throw something but he was too tired suddenly to deny the emotions any longer; it just hurt too much to continue holding back the tears. Bella soothed him with her gentle touch, voice and by sending gentle threads of love and acceptance into him.

It took Harry several minutes to regain his composure; as he pulled back from her, Bella placed a hand under his chin, forcing him to look up at her. With her other hand, she brushed it along his face, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

"No more puffy, red eyes," she said, smiling down at him. Her expression grew a bit more serious as she brushed an errant strand of hair away from his face, "Harry, remember that James, for whatever else he may have been, was just human. He did some awful, hateful things; especially in his youth. But he also did some amazing, wonderful things. And he loved you; he loved you very much."

Harry nodded then looked away as the emotions began to well up again, choking off his ability to speak. Arabella placed a bowl of soup and a half sandwich in front of him before taking her seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that his father had returned. The room was quiet except for the sounds of spoons clanking against the ceramic of the bowls.

"Harry, did I tell you about the time Lily and I had James and Sirius introducing themselves as Prat #1 and Prat #2?"

Harry looked up at her question and noted the mischievous look in her eyes as he shook his head. A fleeting glance at the Professor revealed eyes narrowing in warning but a total lack of malice behind them. Harry listened aptly to Arabella as he ate; laughing at his adoptive father's and Sirius' reaction to the charm that compelled them to stand at the most inopportune times to 'introduce themselves.' He snickered at the thought of Sirius standing up in the middle of one of Professor McGonagall's transfiguration lectures to say, "My name is Sirius Alexander Black and I'm a prat #1." It was definitely a charm he wanted to learn; Malfoy wouldn't know what hit him.

After a few more stories and additional sandwiches and bowls of soup, the plates were cleared and the atmosphere in the room grew serious once again.

"I know we have asked a lot of you in the past few weeks, but I am afraid we need to ask a bit more Harry. There is something Severus and I can do to protect Hermione, but we want your blessing." Bella's voice was gentle as she spoke and Harry could see the hope in her eyes.

"My blessing?"

"Yes," Professor Snape responded. "I will not proceed with the current plan without your agreement. It is as much your decision as it is ours."

"What plan?" Harry asked, looking from Severus to Arabella.

"Severus and I have discussed using spells similar to those used on you to disguise Hermione as our daughter. The fact that the only born Healers in the past millennia have come from Figg line will make it that much more believable."

"So what does it have to do with me?" he asked, a small bit of bitterness bleeding into his tone.

"Everything, Harry, part of the process is a wizarding adoption. Once performed, it cannot be undone; at least not in Ms. Granger's case. For you, since James is dead, I can reclaim you as my child; that is not an option for Ms. Granger."

"You want to acknowledge me as your son?" Harry asked, a bit surprised and unsure.

Snape just looked at him a bit oddly before saying, "Yes."

Silence descended on the room as Harry considered what his father had just said. Part of him was overjoyed at the prospect of having his father; another part was still in shock, trying to accept the idea that his greasy git of a Potions Master was, in fact, his father. Snape claiming him would mean he would never have to return to the Dursley's, although he suspected that no matter the outcome, Bella would never allow that anyway. The fact that Snape was a spy for Dumbledore suddenly occurred to him and he turned to look at his father, "I wouldn't be able to be Harry Potter anymore, though, would I? Not unless you stop acting as a spy."

His father and Arabella exchanged another look before she said, "We haven't worked out all the details yet, Harry. We didn't want to invest too much time if it wasn't something with which you'd be comfortable."

Harry looked back and forth between his father and godmother before leaning back into his chair as he mulled over what they were suggesting. Hermione had already lost so much because of him; this plan might be the only real option they had of keeping her in Hogwarts and close by. If it meant sharing his family, if it could be called that, with her, he knew it was the least he could do.

"It would mean she'd get to stay in Hogwarts?"

"Yes," his father replied.

"Okay. If it will keep her safe, it's alright with me."

Bella reached out and took his hand again, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you, Harry. Everything will be alright, I promise."

Harry forced a smile and squeezed her hand back. He was about to respond when Ron suddenly appeared in the room with Dumbledore.

"Harry! We're going to Hogsmeade!"

Sirius paced in front of the large fireplace in Haven's common room; a seemingly endless cycle of eight steps in one direction, pivot and back again. He was certain that Dumbledore was off his rocker. Harry and Ron had been allowed to go to Hogsmeade for a few hours; it was supposed to be a chance for the two boys to do something "normal" instead of being cooped up in Haven or even Hogwarts. Remus and Shape had accompanied the them; several other members of the order were strategically placed through out the small wizarding town for added protection, as well.

He still didn't know what had possessed Dumbledore to agree with Ron's suggestion. After hearing some of what Remus had to say about the goings on around Haven in the past week, however, he was glad that Ron had finally realized all was not right with his friend. He agreed with Ron that a change in atmosphere and some fun would do Harry good, he would just prefer that 'the fun' was flying around on the Quidditch Pitch and not Hogsmeade. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen and he knew Bella felt the same. The last time both of them had felt this kind of foreboding, Severus had disappeared and been declared dead, Peter had betrayed James and Lily and he had ended up in Azkaban.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, Sirius continued his pacing while thinking of Arabella. She had returned from her lunch with Harry and Snape in a foul mood. She hadn't even noticed he had returned from weeks being cooped up at their old family home, which had been turned into a safe house for the Order. Turning to make yet another return pass in front of the fireplace, Sirius barreled into his twin, earning him a disgruntled growl.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped, taking a step back to allow some personal space between them.

"Trying to get your attention! If you'd been paying any attention to the outside world instead of wallowing on your own, you would have heard me calling you. Now shut up and come help me," Arabella snapped back then turned and stormed over to the sofa, dropping several dusty, old books on the coffee table. Taking the book of the top of the pile, she dropped unceremoniously onto the sofa and started scanning the contents.

Sirius regarded his sister for a moment. She usually didn't snap at a people. She was generally the mellowest person he knew, or at least she had been before that Halloween. Like everyone else, she seemed to have developed a sharper personality. The few short periods he'd been able to spend with her in the past month, she seemed higher strung than he remembered; quicker to anger, moodier in general, but stronger at the same time. At the moment she seemed tense and vulnerable, like she could see an impending disaster she was powerless to stop.

Taking a few steps closer, he got a good look at the book in his sister's hands and immediately recognized it. It was the journal in which the spells that had been used to disguise Harry were detailed. Slowly, Sirius walked over to the sofa and sat down beside Bella. He smiled to himself slightly as she shifted closer to him; it was a habit formed very early in their lives when he had been her primary companion and protector. He'd asked her once, in annoyance at her invasion of his personal space, why she did it and she told it made her feel safe, like nothing could hurt her. She had explained that she could almost fit her entire body within his "aura;" that it was like wrapping her in a warm, soft, familiar blanket. Shifting a bit to accommodate her, he wrapped a hand around her shoulder; if his presences, tainted as it was by Azkaban, could offer her comfort, he wasn't about to begrudge her.

"What's so important about the charms, Bella? Are we going to reinforce them?"

"Don't know," she replied absently, "that's up to Harry. I want to see if we can use them to disguise Hermione in a similar fashion. We'll need to strengthen them, though and I'm not really sure how."

"Strengthen them? Why? Who are you disguising her as?" Sirius asked, craning his head to try and see her expression.

"My daughter," she replied. "Well, if I can find a way to strengthen the blood ties."

"Yours and Severus'?" Sirius asked, "And just how do you plan to do that? How do you plan to explain where she was the year before you disappeared? That Snape didn't know?"

"I don't know, Sirius," she said, annoyance and frustration creeping into her voice and he could see she was withholding something. "I haven't figured it all out yet."

"Alright, alright," he replied, knowing when not to push his sister. "So tell me more about why we need to strengthen the blood charms?"

Arabella sighed, "I don't know all the details, but several hundred years back, the Snape heir of the time was married to a Malfoy. She was murdered by a group of scared muggles who saw her apparate. She was seven months pregnant at the time. The families made a pact after the deaths that the first daughter borne to either house would marry the heir of the other. In the generations since, not one daughter has been borne."

"Wait," Sirius said, "you're telling me that if Hermione goes through with this, she'll be betrothed to Draco Malfoy?"

"Not necessarily. There is are loopholes in the pact; the Snape's and Malfoy's are as paranoid as the Black's, especially when it comes to the purity and well-being of their lines."

Sirius snorted in agreement. He was very familiar with the Black family's pureblood mania and dark tendencies. He shuddered to think what he would have been like if his mother had been anyone but Anne Walsh, daughter of the acclaimed Healer Grainne Figg. He knew it was the influence of his sister and both women that kept him from the same superiority complex as the rest of the family. "Okay, so we need something that will fool the most powerful identity charms. Do you know what kind of tests Malfoy will use?"

"No," Arabella sighed, dropping her head back against his shoulder. "Sev will probably know."

"Alright, then why don't we see what kind of relationship spells we can find in the books. I'll take the transfiguration texts. Snape would be best to deal with the potions. Do you think you can handle the Charms?" Sirius asked as reaching for one of the dusty books Arabella had brought out of the library.

Arabella snatched the book from him, her eyes narrowing and her mouth scrunching up in annoyed pout. Chuckling to himself, he grabbed another book and sat back into the cushions. He scanned through the index and marked the pages for deeper examination. Summoning a quill and parchment, he settled in, taking notes on possibilities for further research. It was over a half an hour before he realized that his sister was perfectly still and not searching though her text as he was.

"Bella?" he asked softly.

He was shocked when she turned her head up to him and he saw the tears streaming down her face and the fear in her eyes.

"What is it? Severus? Harry?" Panic surged through him at the thought that something may have happened to his godson. He hated the helpless feeling, so much stronger know that he knew the boy than it had been when he was in Azkaban and Harry was simply 'James' son.' "Bella, please!" Sirius shifted his body so he could see her more clearly, urging her to tell him. It took him a few moments to realize that the alarm and grief he saw in her eyes were not dire, more like an echo of a past pain or maybe a foreshadowing. He was perplexed when she handed him a folded piece of parchment until he recognized the handwriting. It was Lily's. Flipping the letter open, he began to read:

June 15, 1980

Dear Bella,

Somehow I think it will be you who finds this letter first. There is so much I need to tell you, so much you need to know and I doubt very much that I will be there to tell this to you in person.

Before I go further, I wish to ask you to take care of my baby; to love and raise him or her as if it were your own child. I know that is asking a lot of you, but regardless of the tensions between us these past months, you are still my friend and the only one I would trust to the task. Bad things are coming, Bella, and I can't shake the feeling that my time and James' runs short.

Now, the things I need tell you are related to some research I have been doing and a prophecy Dumbledore had partially confided to James and myself. First, the prophecy, I can't tell you specifics because I do not know them. According to Dumbledore, the prophesy predicts that a child, born at the end of July and who carries the blood of the Covenant's Founders will have the power to exile then destroy the Rising Darkness. Albus is doubtful that it is my child as he believes James is the father and I, of course, am Muggleborn. Although, since James is descended from Gryffindor and Avalon, Dumbledore doesn't wish to rule it out either.

Now for the second part. I have been doing research for the past several months, since I discovered my pregnancy and confirmed my suspicions on the paternity. I knew I would have to disguise the child somehow to protect both it and Severus from Voldemort, not to mention James and myself. I have spent a number of hours in Haven's library, but if you read this several years from now, you will likely know about that research. It is my discovery about my own heritage I need to convey to you as it might save my child where it would fail to save me.

Do you remember in History of Magic, when we studied the Schism War, the Great Weapon that end the war and the creation of modern Magical Society? So much information has been lost from that time or tainted and destroyed by the final conflict between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. I always wondered if there was more to the story than what we know or what has been recorded in Hogwart's: A History, and I found my answer.

There is a journal concealed amongst the library books in Haven; it is charmed to reveal itself only to the descendents of the original owners. My child should be able to find it quite easily, as I did. I won't go into too many details here, as it is all in the journal. I will tell you that if the journal is to be believed, my child and I are descendents of not only Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor, but also of the last Lady of the Lake. The final entries in the journal describe the 'Great Weapon,' being used against Lady Serena Slytherin, the wife of Salazar's eldest son and heir, Arick. She was the granddaughter of Gryffindor and the last Lady of the Lake. The weapon, although not used properly, was still powerful enough to bind Serena's powers. Several years later, Serena bore a daughter to Arick. It was discovered that the daughter's powers were also bound and that it would likely to continue for several generations. Knowing Arick needed a magical heir, Serena renounced her marriage and left wizarding England with her daughter.

Bella, I believe I am the descendent of that daughter. As I said, the book was charmed to remain hidden from anyone not of the bloodline. If what I suspect is true than the prophecy I mentioned earlier more than likely does pertain to my child as it would carry the blood of three founders, Slytherin and Gryffindor through me as well as the blood of Ravenclaw through Sev and Avalon through both of us. I am not sure which frightens me more, the thought of my child bearing such a burden or the thought that I will not be there to offer my support and guidance. Knowing that you and Severus will be there is my one consolation.

I am entrusting my child to you to protect and love, Bella. I know you will not fail.

Until we meet again,

All my love,

Lily

With shaking hands, Sirius refolded the letter and handed it back to Arabella before gathering her in his arms and holding her tightly. He didn't know what to think. His head was swimming and he couldn't quite fathom the burden his friends had carried, virtually alone, for the last year of their lives. Their reactions and behaviors made much more sense now in hindsight. He hadn't learned the full prophecy until just this past year and he couldn't help but wonder if James and Lily would be here now if they had chosen to confide the full truth to Dumbledore. He felt Bella shift in his embrace and watched as she unfolded and examined the letter again. He could almost see her mind working as she worked something out in her mind. Her head suddenly snapped up and she sprung off the sofa.

"Hermione! Ginny! Get in here!" She called excitedly and immediately began walking back toward the library.

Climbing off the sofa, he followed his sister curiously. Her mind had obviously taken off on some tangent, and even as a child, her tangents had been brilliant. He had often thought she'd belonged in Ravenclaw and not Hufflepuff. "What is it Bell?" he asked as he entered the large and musty room. He heard the two younger girls approach behind him.

Bella smiled brilliantly at him and he could almost feel the hope and enthusiasm that ebbed from her. Sirius watched her talk to the two girls, "Hermione, I need you to go through the books and find anything you can about the Schism War and the weapon that was used end it. Ginny, please help her. Look for anything that might remind you of the old legends, especially those of the last Lady of the Lake, a promise made by any of the founder's of the Covenant or the Bloodstone. Your grandmother told you those stories, didn't she?"

"Yes," Ginny replied. Her brow was slightly scrunched hinting at her puzzled state.

"I don't understand," Hermione asked as she came further into the room and glanced around the library as if she were orienting herself. "We studied the Schism War briefly but what is so important about it now?"

"The Schism War involved a dark lord much like Voldemort, but more important is the weapon that stopped him. We came across some information that suggests a powerful weapon was used to end the war." Bella said as she walked over to join Hermione and Ginny, who were already hunched over the indexing scrolls identifying potentially useful texts.

"So if we can find this weapon, we might be able to use it against You-KnoÉ Voldemort." Ginny replied, briefly glancing up at them.

He nodded and started to walk toward the shelves of books before feeling Bella pull on his arm. Turning around, he glanced at her quizzically.

"I need you to keep on the other research." Her voice was soft and Sirius could see her desire to conceal the nature of the "other" research and nodded. He turned and walked toward the other room to gather the books that Arabella had so unceremoniously dropped on the coffee table earlier. He was stacking the transfiguration books when he heard a noise that stopped his heart cold.

"Sirius!"

Sirius could hear his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, screaming his name, her calls growing louder as she neared the Haven common room. He felt his sister at his side in a matter of moments. Looking down at her, she mouthed "Nymphadora?" Sirius nodded just as the odd looking girl with bright pink hair barrelled into the room.

Leaning against the wall and panting slightly the younger girl looked between the two of them, her eyes flashing to the two younger girls Sirius knew had exited the library behind Arabella.

"Harry. Dementors attacked. The Ministry took Harry." She said quickly, breathing heavily between the words.

"What?!" he explained, shocked and terrified as he tried to understand what Tonks was telling him.

"Harry used his Patronus. He said the Dementor went after a young girl. They've taken him, Ron, Fred and George to the Ministry for an emergency tribunal. They don't believe him, Sirius. Dumbledore is already on his way. Severus and Remus followed. Shacklebolt took him into custody, so he isn't completely alone. Dumbledore told me to come down here and make sure you all stay put."

"Stay put?! Harry needs me! Has he even met Shacklebolt? And why the hell wasn't someone with him!" He exclaimed. He could hear Ginny cry of alarm, first at the mention of not one, but three of her brothers and then at the word 'custody.' Both cries were followed by Hermione's calmer but strained voice offering comfort and support.

"He's right, Sirius." Bella said. "There is nothing you can do for him there. Even in your animagus form, you couldn't get close to him. You'd run the risk of discovery and that would be worse. Stay here with the girls."

"And where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"For help." She called back over her shoulder as she summoned her cloak and ran out of the room.

"Bella!" he called after, trying to follow her only to be stopped by Tonks and Moody, whom he hadn't noticed earlier. He struggled against them for a short time before pulling away violently and storming toward fireplace. He pounded his fist against the mantle, letting out a growl of impotent rage. He couldn't stand being helpless - again - to aid his godson. Turning around, his eyes first caught sight of Hermione and Ginny sitting together on the sofa, both looked extremely worried. His eyes then gradually focused on the books on the table. Taking a deep breath, he tried to force himself, at least, to appear calm.

"Why don't you both go back in the library and work on Arabella's research?" He suggested.

Ginny automatically started to balk but was stopped by Hermione's firm hand on her arm. "He's right, Gin. We have to trust Dumbledore and the others to help Harry with this one. Besides, if Lady Arabella is right," her voice drifted off as Ginny started to nodded her agreement.

Sirius watch both girls rise from the sofa with more composure than he felt at the moment. They walked quietly toward the library. Both seemed to turn back as one and open their mouths to speak.

"I promise to let you know as soon as I hear anything." He promised.

Hermione and Ginny smiled faintly back at him and walked into the library, closing the doors behind him. He watched the closed doors for a moment before turning to glare at Tonks and Moody, who had taken up positions blocking the entrances to the common room.

"So that was cousin Arabella?" Tonks said in a strained voice, as if she was trying very hard to sound casual.

"Yes," Sirius replied sharply before turning away from them. Knowing he would be stunned if he tried to get past them, he grabbed a book from the table and settled on the sofa. It wasn't long though before his anxiety won out and he found himself treading across the Persian carpet that lay before the fireplace; eight steps in one direction then pivot and back again. While he paced, he prayed that between Arabella and Dumbledore, Harry would be okay.

Oh God, Harry!

It was the dominant thought in Arabella's mind as she raced down the deserted halls of Hogwarts. She could feel the increased pounding of her heart as the panic-induced adrenaline flooded her system and was grateful for the boost of energy and power that accompanied it. All she could think of was what Harry was enduring; first the dementors and the horrors she knew he relived each time he was near the disgusting creatures followed by being taken forcibly by the Ministry. It just wasn't fair that Harry should be endure yet another traumatic event.

She had known something was going to happen, it was why she'd disagreed with Dumbledore's assessment that it would be safe for Harry in Hogsmeade. She hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something else was just lurking around the corner. The fact that the Ministry, and thus Fudge, had been involved terrified her. She knew Fudge, the git that he was, wouldn't waste an opportunity to discredit Harry. She'd scene the papers, heard his comment. In fifteen years, he hadn't changed at all. She refused, refused, to allow him to do to Harry what he had done to her and Sirius. She was determined to protect her godson, she just wasn't quite sure how at the moment. She just knew she had to get him away from the Ministry, and fast.

She cursed as she neared the center of the castle and the main stairways only to see the one nearest her begin to shift away. Reaching the next staircase, she dashed down the stairs, not paying attention to anything or anyone she might pass. All her attention was focused on getting to a safe apparition distance and getting Harry the help she knew he would need. As she rounded the corner of the final landing before reaching the entrance hall, she paused. The large double doors were opening, allowing a man in billowing, black robes to enter. She could feel the anger and frustration emanated off the man like a great wave, even from distance.

"Severus," she called as she slowly descended the final steps and made her way toward him. She wanted to throw herself into the safety of his embrace and regretted the gulf that time had placed between them. Fifteen years ago, she wouldn't have hesitated. "What's happened? Why aren't you at the Ministry with Harry?" She tried to keep the panic from filling her voice as she drew near him. Closer to him now, she could see the tension in his stance; he was a coiled snake, poised to strike.

"Fudge." He said the name in a harsh bitter tone, his face twisted in a dark sneer. "He has called an emergency tribunal to determine if Harry should be expelled and to determine the possibility of filing additional charges."

Arabella took an instinctive step back from him, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes blurred with angry tears. While the news wasn't totally unexpected, the waves of anxiety drifting off her husband combined with her own anger and worry were nearly overwhelming her. For a brief instant, she wished for Sev's ability to retain so much composure under the circumstances; she could feel her body beginning to tremble. He looked at her directly in the eyes and she watched the walls begin to fall and all the emotion he felt to show in his eyes. A sudden image of Harry's face, his expression a little apprehensive, popped in to her head and she heard his words from earlier echo in her mind, ÔI wouldn't be able to be Harry Potter anymore, though, would I? Not unless you stop acting as a spy.' She blinked in shock at the memory before a small smile curled her lips as an idea, a plan, formed in her head.

"It's going to be alright, Sev. I know what to do."

"And just what would that be?" He snapped, the tension and fear creeping into his voice making it sound harsh.

"I'm going to convince Petunia Dursley to remove Harry from the Wizarding World."

"And what good would that do us?"

"It would get Harry out from under the Ministry. Once he's safe, you can accept him back into your family and we can reintroduce him as our son." She watched as Severus' eyebrow climbed slightly. She reached out, weaving her fingers through his and tried to send him some assurance. "I know that wonderful Slytherin mind of yours can figure out how to make it work," she pleaded with him. Every instinct told her this was the course to take, that this was what she needed to do.

Slowly, Severus nodded his assent and she felt her body release the breath she'd been holding. Stepping forward, she brushed a loose strand of hair out of his face before wrapping her arms around his neck. Her body relaxed momentarily against him as his hands snaked around her waist and held her firmly in place. "We've got to go. Meet me in the alley across the street from the Leaky Cauldron. That is where I will bring Petunia. I will explain what I can to her, but be prepared to make sure she knows what she will need to do." She said then pulled away enough to look into his face. "Alright?"

He nodded and separated from her enough to allow them to quickly walk a safe distance from the castle to apparate. When they reached the spot, she turned toward her husband and whispered, "I love you," before she faded and reappeared just down the street from her old house and Number Four Privet Drive. Losing no time, she cast a glamour on herself to make her appear as she had for the last fifteen years before rushing down the street and up the walkway to the Dursley's front door. Adrenaline was humming through her veins and she tried to calm herself. Anger at Fudge and his cronies, and the damned Dementors who caused this mess coupled with her fear for Harry were not the best allies in getting Petunia Dursley to help her. The door swung open suddenly and Arabella had to concentrate to keep the small smile and friendly expression on her face at the odd mixture of emotions trailing across Petunia's face. In the fourteen years she had known the woman, she could never figure out how she could love Harry enough to take him in and protect him and yet hate who he was and treat him so horribly.

"Hello Petunia. May I come in?"

"Where is Harry?" the woman demanded as she stepped aside to allow Arabella to enter the spotless home. "We came home last week and there was no sign of you, just a note from Harry saying there was some kind of emergency."

Arabella was surprised to hear of the note as they had not actually had time to leave one. She would have to remind herself to thank Dumbledore for taking care of that small detail. "He's safe, Petunia," she said, "for now. I am surprised by your concern, though. It would have been nice if you shown some of it to Harry over the years."

Arabella watched as the woman bristled, her back straightening and her head tilting up haughtily. "Is there a reason you came, Mrs. Figg, without my nephew? I assume you are planning on returning him to me?"

"No, actually, I'm not. I am here because Harry needs help and I would like to take custody of Harry. You see, according to wizarding law, at the age of fifteen a minor can choose whom he wishes to be his custodian or guardian. If the chosen guardian and the former guardian agree, an oath can be performed in front of witnesses to transfer custody. It's a very old tradition, but still quite legal and binding."

"Why would you want him?" Petunia asked, her eyes narrowing warily.

"I want him, Petunia, because he is my godson and I love him." Arabella replied with a smile. Pulling out her wand, she whispered, "Finite Incantatum."

Petunia stumbled backwards in shock and alarm as the chubby old woman with grey hair before her suddenly became a younger, taller, svelte woman with long, black hair. The simple dress the old woman had been wearing became indigo blue tailored robes with a lighter blue under-dress.

"YouÉ You're one of them!" Petunia stuttered.

Her seeming fear would have caused Arabella to chuckle if not for the fear for Harry that was eating away at her. She remained motionless for a short time, allowing the startled woman time to compose herself. It took a few moments for Petunia to realize that she wasn't about to be attacked and finally, she straightened her posture and stepped forward again.

"You said Harry needed help? Just how do expect me to help him? You're the wonderful and powerful witch, why don't you help him?" Petunia sneered.

Arabella titled her head to the side and quietly studied the woman for a moment. She could see she was agitated and a bit scared, but underneath it she could make out some concern. "Harry was attacked by a group of Dementors, they are Dark Creatures that literally suck the happiness out of you. The problem is that the Ministry of Magic doesn't believe Harry's story. The Minister seems to think that Harry is a bit deranged and dangerous and they are currently holding a hearing to decide whether or not to expel him from school. If they are successful, they will undoubtedly try Harry for the murder of classmate who was in actuality killed by Voldemort; the man who, incidentally, killed your sister." Arabella paused to give Petunia the chance to absorb what she said. "Regardless of what that hulk you call a husband says, you know Harry is neither deranged nor dangerous. And you know he is not capable of murder in cold blood."

Petunia was silent. She stood there, seemingly shocked by what Arabella told her. Finally, she spoke, "I still don't see how I can help him."

"Speak for him." Arabella said simply. "At a juvenile hearing of this type, parents and guardians are given the opportunity to speak for their child. It is generally used to plead leniency. However, I wish you to repudiate the court's and the Ministry's claim on Harry. As a Muggle, it is your right to determine if a minor in your custody will have access to the Wizarding World. Essentially, you will dismiss all claims the wizarding world has on Harry and remove him from Hogwarts. They will not be able to stop you from walking out of the courthouse with him; as a matter of fact, they will be obligated to transport you both home."

"I still don't see why you can't just go in my place. You obviously could disguise yourself as me."

Arabella sighed in frustration then said, "Petunia, these people are not that stupid! The first thing they will do is verify you are who you say you are! Now, we are wasting time, will you help Harry or not?"

"Alright. But if they ask me why I am pulling Harry out now, what do I say?"

"Simple. Tell them you never wanted Harry to attend Hogwart's. Tell them that the magical world got your sister killed and you refuse to allow the same to happen to Harry. Tell them you know all about what's happened over the last four years and that you will not tolerate the treatment your nephew has received."

"Treatment? I don't understand." Petunia asked, obviously confused.

"I'll explain later but I need to get you to Severus first. He is one of Harry's professors and will take you to court." She said as she gestured toward the door. "We need to leave, Petunia."

Petunia nodded and grabbed her purse on the way out the front door. They walked up the street and stopped at the corner, where Arabella stopped and looked around. The street was empty, but Arabella silently cast a notice-me-not spell and took Petunia's hand. Arabella smiled, feeling a bit more confident that everything would work out as Privet Drive faded and was replaced by the shadowed and dank atmosphere of a London alleyway.

"WhÉ where are we?" Petunia whimpered.

"London," came a sharp reply from behind them. Petunia started suddenly, jumping closer to Arabella, cowering at her side as they turned to face the voice. Shaking her head slightly and rolling her eyes, Arabella made the introductions.

"Petunia, I would like you to meet Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts. Sev, this is Petunia Dursley, Harry's aunt."

"This is Lily's sister?" he asked, his surprise evident in his eyes as he examined the tall, skinny, horse-faced woman.

"You knew my sister?" Petunia asked, a bit hesitantly.

"Yes," he replied briskly before turning his attention to Arabella. "Does she know what to do?"

"The basics, yes," Bella replied to Severus before turning back to Petunia. "Just remember Ð YOU are removing him from the Wizarding World. Don't let them intimidate you. Demand counsel Ð ask for Headmaster Dumbledore, Remus Lupin or Mr. or Mrs. Weasley. As a muggle, it is your right. Don't let them break Harry's wand!"

Petunia looked between the two of them. "I just walk in there and demand they release Harry into my custody and turn over his wand immediately. These people you mentioned, will they be there already?"

"Yes. Remus and the Headmaster should be there. The Weasleys will likely be there as well. Just ask one of them to accompany you into the room."

"We are wasting time," Severus cut in abruptly.

Arabella nodded to him, trying to force a smile. "Okay. Petunia, I will wait for you and Harry at your house. Good luck," she said. Petunia turned from her to face Severus and hesitantly started to follow him out of the alley. "Petunia," she called suddenly and ran after them. When she reached them, she looked the other woman in the eyes. "Thank you for doing this."

Lily's sister smiled weakly at her and nodded. Taking a step back, she watched as Severus and Petunia Dursley disappeared across the street. Closing her eyes, she sent a silent prayer that everything would work out and that Harry would ultimately forgive her for what she was setting in motion. Letting out a slow breath, she concentrated until she the sight of London's street fade away.

Harry stood, for all intents and purposes, alone in front of the panel of judges, systematically breathing in and out and keeping his eyes focused straight ahead. He couldn't believe this was happening. One minute, he and his friends were being attacked by Dementors; the next, he was being hauled in front of an emergency tribunal. There were the seven people, all wearing stern expressions, seated directly in front of him along the raised, curved dais on ornate carved chairs. Each judge wore dress robes of a deep purple with an ornamental collar of gold and silver containing seven panels. Four of the panels were the crests of the four houses of Hogwart's. The bottom two appeared to contain two clashing stags and a quarter moon and staff, respectively. They looked familiar but Harry had no clue what they symbolized.

His court appointed advocate stood beside him. He was a short, balding man with gentle but pitying eyes. He had already argued that Harry was merely defending himself but the presentation had lacked luster, with little or no conviction. The Ministry's Advocate strode the length of the room as he addressed the judges, each time he passing in front of the podium where Harry's wand rested. He was protesting the calling of his friends as witnesses on the grounds that they were facing similar inquisitions. The judges' agreement only half registered on Harry. Ron, Fred and George's testimony would have proved his story true and the judges had just deemed it inadmissible. Remus, who was also present, had not even been permitted to testify based on some new law concerning non-humans. The whole thing made Harry sick and fearing the worst, he bit his lip and stared straight ahead, keeping his back straight and his head held high. He wasn't going to let them see just how frightened he truly was.

It didn't take long for the Ministry Advocate to launch into a twisted version of the so-called "evidence" of Harry's instability. With each new allegation tossed at court, the achy, panicked feeling in his chest grew and the harder it was to stand there and listen. He desperately wished someone could be in here with him, even if it was only to stand beside him. He wanted Arabella or Sirius, but he would settle even for his father.

There was a loud bang as the doors to the chamber were forced open followed by the angry clicking of high heels on the stone floor. Tempted as he was to turn and see who had entered, but the fear that it was yet another 'enemy' come to gloat kept him facing straight ahead.

"This is a closed court, Madam. I insist you leave this instant."

"I will do no such thing! How dare you hold this hearing without my consent!"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the sound of the brittle, shrill sound of his aunt's agitated voice; she sounded much like he imagined a vexed Harpy would sound. Turning around, he watched as she pushed pasted the startled guard and made her way toward him.

"Aunt Petunia? How? Why?" He stuttered.

"Don't worry, Harry. I will have you out of here soon enough. Your Headmaster was kind enough to send someone for me. He thought your legal guardian should have a say in these...these proceedings." Her last words were said with a sneer that would have rivaled even Snape's best and he could hear outraged grumblings coming from behind him. In a softer voice, she continued, "Are you alright, Harry? Your headmaster and your professors have filled me in on the what happened last year and what these people are trying to do."

To say he was confused by her show of concern, not to mention her actual presence in the chamber, would have been a considerable understatement. He nodded, forcing himself to say, "I'm fine, Aunt Petunia."

There was a loud banging sound; turning his head towards the noise, he noticed the High Judge was tapping his staff rather forcefully against a low, wooded pedestal that sat next to his chair. "Order!!" he demanded. "What is the meaning of this interruption? Who are you?"

Harry's aunt straightened her back and with the haughtiest demeanor she could muster, replied, "I am Petunia Dursley, Harry's aunt and legal guardian. I am here to take my nephew home!" She smiled coldly up at the Judge, sending a shiver down Harry's spine. He had no clue what she was up to but suddenly he was terrified. "I am removing him from your little freakish world and taking him back where he belongs."

Is aunt's words sent Harry's head spinning. What did she mean she was removing him from the wizarding world? She couldn't do that, could she? What about Arabella and his father? How could they let this happen? His body began to shake subtly and he swallowed hard. He wouldn't breakdown here, he wouldn't. It was a mantra he began repeating over and over in his head; he forced himself to separate a bit from the situation. He had to stay calm and think.

"Am I to understand, Madam," a female judge just right of center started, "that you are repudiating the Wizarding World's and the Ministry's claim and jurisdiction over your nephew? You understand that he will not be able to communicate or be part of the wizarding world in anyway. All his wizarding possessions will be sealed until his eighteenth birthday. He will have no access to them, including his wand."

"Of course I understand that," his aunt snapped and Harry tightened his hands into fists before forcing himself to relax and think things through. There is no way his aunt would have come here on her own, nor was there a way that she could have understood what she was doing unless being told beforehand. That meant that she was just doing what she had been instructed to do, but why? A thought suddenly occured to him and his eyes flickered toward his aunt. Could she be under the Imperious? Could some Death Eater have gotten to her, arranged for her to deliver him straight into Voldemort's hands? A new sense of panic and urgency surged through him as he tried to think of a way out of the situation.

"May I ask, Mrs. Dursley," the male judge who was sitting on the far left and that Harry had mentally dubbed 'Santa Clause" inquired, "why you have chosen this course of action?"

"I would think that would be obvious, sir." She replied, "Your little world got my sister killed and you all have treated my nephew atrociously. He is a BOY, nothing more or less — and I am well aware of what has happened to him these past few years. I was threatened into allowing my nephew to attend Hogwarts against my better judgment and I have had enough of your nonsense. Now do whatever it is you need to do so that Harry and I may leave."

"Your honor, I insist that Mr. Potter's wand be broken!" Minister Fudge exclaimed in a rush.

"I do not believe that will be necessary," came a reply in a very familiar voice from the far side of the room. For a moment, Harry relaxed. It would be okay, surely Dumbledore wouldn't let this continue; he'd know how to keep Harry in the Wizarding World.

"Dumbledore! What are you doing here?" Fudge asked, clearly annoyed at his presence.

"Mrs. Dursley asked me to act as her council; it is her right as she is not completely familiar with our laws." Dumbledore responded pleasantly. He appeared almost unconcerned and for a brief moment Harry trepidations disappeared. "I apologize, Mrs. Dursley for the delay, but since you seemed certain of your course of action, I needed to retrieve something from Mr. Ollivander's shop."

Dumbledore's words left a cold, empty feeling in Harry's chest. They'd promised him he would never have to go back, but that obviously wasn't the case now. He felt himself fighting for composure against the bitter tears that were building behind his eyes. For the millionth time since he felt the first Dementor, he wished he had never left Hogwarts. From the corner of his eye, he could see his aunt nodding to acknowledge the Headmaster and he wanted to scream at them to stop, but then he caught sight of Minister Fudge. The man was fairly angry; his was tense and his eyes were narrowed. His jaw was set in a firm, disgruntled line. He obviously did not like these turn of events; he looked like a child who had his toys and candy taken away.

Dumbledore stepped closer to him, but didn't look Harry in the eye. Instead, he addressed the tribunal. "I believe Mrs. Dursley has made her wishes quite clear. While I wished there was some alternative, I do not see it at the moment. If you would please seal Mr. Potter's wand in this box, I would be glad to escort them home."

For a brief moment, the room was still. The Head Judge then rose gracefully from his chair and turned to his right. One by one, the judges he faced nodded their acquiescenes. He turned to the left and again each judge nodded. Turning back to faced them, the Judge spoke, "One be half of the High Tribunal, I hereby accept Mrs. Dursley's renouncement of the Wizarding Society on behalf of her nephew. All claims against Mr. Harry Potter are thus dismissed."

The Head Judge then stepped forward and took the box from Dumbledore; setting it on the podium, he placed Harry's wand inside and sealed the box. One by one the other judges approached, touched the box with their wand and muttered an incantation Harry could not hear before exiting the room. With each whispered word, he felt a little more of his life and his dreams slip away. Finally, only the Head Judge was left. He placed his wand on the box, muttered the incantation and then, with the box in hand, approached Harry.

"A seal has been placed on this box that will prevent it from being opened without magic until your eighteenth birthday. On that day, you will simply be able to lift the lid off the box. Good luck, Mr. Potter." The High Judge said as he handed Harry the box. With a quick nod to both Dumbledore and then Minister Fudge, the last of the Judges exited the room. Minister Fudge followed the High Judge with little more than a nasty look toward him and a brusque "good day" to the Headmaster. As he left, Harry for the first time noticed Percy Weasley following behind him, a sneer on his face when he looked toward Harry. The Ministry Advocate followed as well, with a more polite "Good Afternoon, Gentlemen."

The last of the people to exit the room was a short, chubby, silly looking woman wearing an annoyingly fluffy pink sweater over her work robes. As she walked by he could hear her low mutter about what a disgrace he was to the Potter name and something about age addling Dumbledore's mind. The words were spoken in a voice just low enough so they could be heard and in a particularly venomous tone. The brief encounter sent yet another chill through his body.

He wasn't sure how long he just stood there, unaware of the passage of time until he felt his aunt grip his arm tightly and pull him along beside her.

"Pay attention, Harry. I wish to leave this freakish place as quickly as possible." She said as she marched them down the long aisle. Pushing the door open, she dragged Harry out into the antechamber where he was immediately blinded by the flashing of camera. He could hear several guards clearing the press away as he stared down at his feet, covering his face with his forearms.

"Harry!"

Looking up in the direction of the familiar shout, he could see five red heads moving quickly toward him.

"Are you alright, mate?" George or Fred asked. It was all Harry could do to nod at them without breaking down then and there.

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said softly as she stepped forward to embrace him. Instinctively, Harry stepped away to avoid her. He knew if he let her touch him, he would lose what composure he had. Pain flashed in the woman's eyes causing him to look away, unable to bear anymore.

"What's going on, sir?"

It was Ron's voice, filled with alarm, that had directed the question to the Headmaster. He heard the elder wizards loud sigh and could imagine the kind and sympathetic expression that Harry was sure was on Dumbledore's face.

"I am afraid, Mr. Weasley, that Harry's aunt has decided to remove him from the Wizarding Community until he comes of age." Dumbledore said the statement just loud enough that it carried to the nearby reporters; Harry could hear them buzzing about, whispering speculations. Closing his eyes, he tried to push it all away, pretend it wasn't happening, even as he heard the chorus of voices all speaking at once.

"You can't let her do that!" Ron protested.

"Surely, there is something we can do!" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Yeah, Professor! Please!" The twins cried in unison.

"Is that wise, Professor?" Mr. Weasley asked

Dumbledore sighed again. "I'm sorry, but the decision has been made. It is Mrs. Dursley right and I can not interfere." He said.

"Can we leave," Mrs. Dursley said in a sharp annoyed tone. "I would like to be home as soon as possible."

"Of course, Mrs. Dursley. Harry, would you like a few minutes to say your good-bye's?"

Harry looked at the alarmed and distressed expressions on the five familiar faces of his friends before turning to Dumbledore and choking out softly, "No sir. It would feel to final. I'd prefer to leave quickly."

"As you wish," the Headmaster said.

"Don't worry, Harry. It will be alright." He heard Mrs. Weasley say.

"Yeah, mate. We'll see you again. Don't worry." Ron said.

"Be safe, Harry. We'll miss you." "Take care, Harry," and "Be careful, Harry," came the simultaneous replies of Fred, George and Mr. Weasley.

"Severus, would you assist me in returning Mrs. Dursley and Mr. Potter to their home?"

Until he heard the Headmaster address him, Harry hadn't realized his father was even there and he felt a sudden surge of anger toward the man. Hadn't the man just told him that he wanted to re-claim him? How could he let this happen! Briefly, he glanced toward the man and fought hard against the impulse to cringe way at the looked of distain that twisted his father's features. A small voice whispered in the back of his mind that he had been right all along; Snape hated him. He glanced around anxiously trying to find Remus or Arabella or even Sirius in the gathering crowd. Realizing none were present, he felt his heart sink to even lower depths.

He felt Dumbledore's gentle pressure on his shoulder as he guided him into step behind his father and his aunt as they walked together down the crowded hall. He could hear groups of people murmuring as he passed and did his best to ignore it. Scenery blurred around Harry as he walked in somewhat of a daze. He barely noticed when the Headmaster pulled him close and apparated. When it registered that he was actually on Privet Drive, Harry automatically started walking toward his Aunt and Uncle's home but he felt nothing. When he reached the front door, he opened it and stepped through and was greeted immediately by his Uncle's angry verbal barrage.

"What are you doing back here, boy?"

He heard someone say "Shut up, Vernon!" quite acerbically as his aunt and the others joined him in the small foyer, shutting the door behind them. He felt someone touch his shoulder. Looking up he saw his father starring down at him with concern. Suddenly the world snapped back into focus and came crashing down around him all at once. Yanking violently away, he backed himself into the living room area.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted at the man. "Don't ever touch me! How could you do this?" His voice broke over the words and his vision swam as the tears he'd fought hard to suppress all day overwhelmed him. "I hate you!" he hissed at him venomously.

"Harry James!"

He heard the sharp exclamation followed immediately by the sound of his uncle's outraged sputtering and his cousins shrieking. Turning in the direction of the voice, he saw Arabella standing just inside the kitchen area. Her face was stern; she was obviously displeased with his attitude and that betrayal only hurt worse. Her expression softened then and she took a step toward him, opening her arms. In a flash, Harry found himself sheltered by her embrace. She soothed him as he cried into her shoulder. As the tears dried, he mumbled, "Please don't leave me here."

"Shh, sweety. It's all right. I never intended to leave you. I promise." She whispered back to him. She pushed him back gently so she could look him in the eyes, "I am sorry if we scared you." He felt his face tingle as she brushed her fingers over his tear-stained eyes. He felt his mind begin to clear a bit and his heart rate calm as a loving presence flooded his senses. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that she was using her skills to calm him. He just didn't care at the moment.

"What happens now?" he asked in a shaky voice, his eyes flitting between Arabella, his father and the Headmaster.

"We take you home."

It was his father who answered.

"What about that custody thing she mentioned?" his aunt asked.

"We can perform that now, if you wish." Arabella responded, exchanging a look with her husband.

"I'm afraid that will have to wait." Dumbledore said.

Harry felt Arabella grasp his hand firmly just as his father turned on the Headmaster with an angry scowl, "And just why is that?" Snape asked.

"There are a few arrangements I would like to make to assure Harry's safety and anonymity. It should only take a week or two to complete. We can perform the ceremony then."

Harry wasn't too sure what he thought about Dumbledore's reason. His father visibly relaxed, however and Arabella wasn't squeezing his hand so tightly anymore, so he figured it couldn't be too bad. He watched as the Headmaster turned toward his aunt and pulled a chain from around his neck. Extending the necklace to Petunia, he said, "Please, take this Mrs. Dursley. If you are ever in trouble, wrap your hand around the crystal and say 'Haven.' The crystal will transport you to a safe house where we will be able to assist you. Anything touching you at that moment will be transported as well. "

His aunt's eyes had bugged out at the mention of the word 'trouble'; she took the crystal and chain in a shaking hand.

"Give that back to him this instant, Petunia. I will have none of their freakish things in my home!" His uncle ranted. His aunt just turned to him and said, "No Vernon, I will not. I would rather have something that could save our lives than nothing at all. Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore."

For a moment, Harry wondered what his aunt had been told to make her so amenable. His thoughts were interrupted by Arabella voice.

"Shall we be going then, Harry?"

His eyes flashed to Snape, who stood quietly behind the Headmaster watching him and Arabella, and suddenly felt contrite. He nodded his head, smiling slightly at his father in apology. Arabella removed a similar pendant from around her neck and placed the crystal in her hand, holding it out to Harry. When he placed his hand in hers, over the crystal, she smiled and whispered a word softly. He was surprised when the pull started in his belly and it wasn't accompanied by dred. The world blurred around him, but he didn't care. He was going home.

"How could you have just left him there? With them? And Petunia Dursley? What in the name of Avalon made you think he would be safe with that horse-faced bitch? How she could be Lily's sister I will never understand! It's absolutely beyond me!"

Harry could hear Sirius ranting before the light from the Haven Common room was visible in the tunnel. He heard Arabella chuckle beside him, her hand squeezing his momentarily as they walked toward the complex he'd called home for the past few weeks.

"What is taking so long? They should be here by now! That's it, I'm going to find them!"

"Sit down, Sirius!" Remus' voice was firm and had a bit of a 'don't question or push me' quality to it. Harry almost laughed as he imagined the look on Sirius' face. Remus wasn't one who, at least in Harry's experience, raised his voice.

As they neared the end of the tunnel, Harry could see Sirius pacing anxiously in front of the fireplace, Hermione and Ginny sitting on the couch. Hermione was curled in a corner, a pillow clutched to her chest while Ginny sat cross-legged and nervously fiddled with the tassels of the throw that was draped over her shoulders. Remus, the only one facing the tunnel, was sitting in one of the armchairs, his head supported by one hand. His weary and worried expression lit up when he saw them in the tunnel and he jumped to his feet. That one motion was all it took to alert Sirius to their presence. In a matter of seconds, Harry's godfather was across the room and pulling him into a bear hug. He felt Bella pat his back before moving beyond him to greet Remus.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked him when he finally let him go.

"Yeah, I guess." He replied. He was still a bit shaken by the experience and he had no clue what was going to happen, but he wasn't nearly as scared or upset as he had been earlier.

"What happened?" Sirius asked, his concern evident. He glanced over toward Arabella, where she stood talking quietly with Remus. Sirius followed his gaze just in time to see Remus' go wide-eyed in surprise.

"What?" Sirius asked again, a bit alarmed.

"Everything will be fine," Bella called over her shoulder, causing Remus to snicker softly.

Harry turned back to Sirius and shrugged his shoulders, then walked further into the room. As he approached, Hermione and Ginny rose from the sofa and moved toward him. Ginny reached him first, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. He felt his face flame scarlet by the show of affection and awkwardly hugged her back.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said as she pulled away and made room for Hermione. There was a weird moment as his eyes connected with hers and he noticed how they glistened with unshed tears.

"Hermione?" he asked in a soft, concerned voice.

For the fourth time that day, Harry found himself with someone's arms wrapped firmly around him. "I was so worried, Harry!" she sobbed into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, patting her awkwardly on the back as he sent a pleading look toward Arabella for help. He didn't have a clue what to do to calm his friend. Hermione pulled herself together quickly, however, when the sound of boisterous voices drifted toward them from another of the tunnels leading into Haven's common room.

"Harry! Mate!" Ron called as he ran into the room. Hermione stepped out of the way just in time to avoid being run over by an exuberant red head. Harry, however, staggered backwards under the impact of his other best friend's embrace. Almost as soon as Ron had grabbed hold of him, he'd released him, his face turning a shade redder than his hair.

"Uh, glad you're okay," he stammered, causing Ginny, Hermione and the twins, who had just entered, to burst out laughing. Mrs. Weasley approached him then, giving him a quick hug before turning toward Arabella.

"Lady Arabella, it is an honor to see you again." Mrs. Weasley's voice held a degree of formality that Harry had never heard her use before. Looking to Arabella, he noticed that her demeanor had become more formal, as well. She inclined her head toward Mrs. Weasley and smiled kindly.

"The honor is mine, Molly, and please do not stand on formality. You have been Harry's family for many years now and that makes you my family." Arabella stepped forward and extended her hands to Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you, La. . . Arabella." Mrs. Weasley said as she took Bella's outstretched hands.

"What's that about?" Harry whispered while watching the conversation.

"Arabella is the Lady of Avalon." Hermione whispered in a tone Harry was very familiar with, the 'don't you know?' tone. "It's a title reserved for the most powerful and gifted adept of the old magics -- of Avalon. I'll explain later. I have a book about it."

"Now, I believe that Harry, Lady Arabella and Professor Snape have much to discuss and could use some privacy." Professor Dumbledore said as he gestured in the direction of the kitchen. Ron and Hermione each looked at him and he could see their concern and unwillingness lo leave him. He smiled at them reassuringly. Both his friends exchanged looks with each other, then smiled at him.

"Any chance of getting something to eat? I'm starved," Ron said as he moved to follow the Headmaster.

"You're always hungry." Hermione said, rolling her eyes and following after him. Harry watched as the remainder of the Weasleys slowly filtered from the room, each smiling supportively at him. Remus and Sirius made a move to follow until Arabella stopped them.

"Sirius, Remus, please stay," she asked. Both stopped and moved back to her. Gesturing toward the sitting area, she continued, "Why don't we sit down?"

With a bit of hesitation, Harry moved over and took a seat in the corner of sofa. Arabella followed sitting next to him. Sirius, Severus and Remus each took seats and when they were settled, Harry launched right into the heart of the matter.

"What happens now? What will I do?"

Arabella looked over at Severus, who was sitting in the armchair on the other side of Harry; it was like watching a silent conversation between the two and made him wonder if their connection was stronger than he thought. He caught his fathers subtle nodded out of the corner of his eye followed by Bella's soft smile.

"Harry," she started in a soft, soothing voice, "Sev and I have been discussing potential ways to shield you and protect Hermione. Our options are now more limited. Please understand, I had to have your Aunt remove you from the jurisdiction of the Wizarding World; if they had passed any sentence against you, it would have been final. Your aunt couldn't have removed you then. It is just one of the many quirks or oddities in the Wizarding System designed to protect our world from the Muggle one."

Harry nodded as he listened. He could feel a bit of apprehension building in him as she spoke, he had an idea of what she was going to tell him, a suspicion based on their conversation over lunch. While the idea wasn't repulsive, he did feel a little like he was going to be forced into a decision he wasn't sure he was ready to live with just yet.

"One of our, mine and Sev's, original ideas will still work, and there are a few other options we can explore, but no matter what else happens, 'Harry Potter' can not return to the wizarding world until your eighteenth birthday unless we are willing to face the charges again."

He nodded, glancing toward his godfather to see his reaction to what Arabella was saying. Sirius' expression was curious and a tad uneasy, but not frightfully so. The fact that he seemed calm about the situation spoke volumes to Harry of the man's trust in his sister, if not Snape. "So what are my options?" Harry asked the question hesitantly.

"We could keep you here, in Haven, or one of the other safe houses. You would have to be concealed and your activities severally restricted. Sirius and some of the other Order members could assist in continuing your education. Severus and I would be able to visit you, but you wouldn't be able to see your friends once the school term starts. Of course, this would only be until we can get the Ministry straightened out. That could take a while though." Arabella's expression indicated that she didn't think to highly of this idea and a quick glance at his godfather and Remus showed they, obviously, felt the same. In all honestly, Harry wasn't too fond of the idea, either. He knew how much Sirius hated being cooped up and he really didn't think he'd handle it much better. He had spent a good portion of the last three summers being cut off from his world and had hated every minute of it; he'd be climbing the walls by September 1 if he stayed here.

The problem was, he couldn't see any other way to remain, not since they had allowed his aunt to remove her "permission" for him to participate in the Wizarding World. He glanced back at Arabella and saw a thoughtful but expectant look in her eyes; it was like she was waiting for him to make a decision or figure something out. His eyes darted to the other adults in the room. "You want me to give up being 'Harry Potter,' don't you? Make me Snape's son? Right?" He asked softly, suddenly panicked by the thought. He looked pleadingly toward Sirius and Remus; the former was looking down at his hands, the later looked at Harry with a sad but resigned expression. Turning, he looked to his father and was met with his usual "expressionless" expression. His eyes, however, were different; they were not cold or uncaring, but guarded, like he was afraid to reveal too much, to feel too much.

Looking back at his godfather, he asked, "Sirius?" His voice had been weak, shaken when he spoke. He felt like he was living in a constant state of upheaval; he was overwhelmed by what his life kept throwing at him. When his godfather raised his eyes, they were filled with profound grief coupled with acceptance. Harry felt his own eye's mist over as his heart sped up double time. Biting his lip to keep his emotions in check, he turned back to Arabella and saw her nod her head and hold out her hand. He knew what the gesture on her part meant; an offer of help, support, reassurance, all things she'd willingly given him before though her empathic gift. For a long moment, he simply stared at her hand, unsure what to do. Looking back into her eyes, he saw her affection for him shining there brightly and unconsciously reached for her hand. The moment their skin made contact he felt her warmth and strength flow into him, replenishing and restoring his frayed and weary emotions to some semblance of balance.

Arabella waited until he felt calmer and more in control before continuing, "Yes, Harry. That is the other option. We could allow the spells that have disguised you to completely disintegrate and then reapply several to connect you to me instead of James. It would mean you could return to Hogwart's if you wished and hopefully take you out of the spotlight. It would give you a chance to be as close to a normal boy as possible."

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" he asked mournfully.

"You always have a choice, Harry. The options just aren't always favorable." Remus replied softly as he came over to sit beside Bella.

Harry could see the empathy Remus had for Harry's situation clearly in his expression; it left him feeling ashamed of the bitterness he'd felt over the choices presented to him. His choices were far better than the ones Remus had likely faced over the years thanks to the prejudice against werewolves. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he nodded toward Sirius, Remus and Arabella and then turned to his father. "I guess we should get Hermione, then, so you can explain it all to her and work out the details."

"You don't have to do this, Harry, we can find another way," Professor Snape said. His voice was very matter-of-fact but when Harry turned to see him, his eyes were filled with concern and hope. It reminded him strongly of the look he had seen on his father's face during their lunch; Severus' eyes had same earnest appearance as when he expressed his desire to reclaim Harry as his son.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then looked back at Arabella, Sirius and Remus in turn before saying, "Thank you, sir, but I don't really see any other options and I would like to be able to go back to school in September."

Severus nodded and Remus stood up and said, "I will go fetch her."

Severus rose from his seat as well, "If you will excuse me, there are some books in my room I need to retrieve."

Harry watched as both Remus and his father left the room. Settling back into the couch, he tried not to think about what it would mean to give up his life as 'Harry Potter.' He felt Bella squeezed his hand and looked up at her, smiling slightly in gratitude. A few moments later his father returned carrying three books. Shortly thereafter, Remus returned with a wary Hermione. Her eyes darted between Harry, Arabella, Sirius and Professor Snape. Arabella patted the sofa next to her and Hermione cautiously took a seat beside her.

"Hermione, we've come up with a rough plan to protect both you and Harry. If you agree, it will allow you to go back to Hogwarts."

"What plan?" she asked, her eyes lighting a bit at the mention of returning to school.

"I, or rather, Severus and I, would like to adopt you. We would need to use several spells to disguise you, give you a new identity. It would permit you to get on with your life and education in the Wizarding World, especially your training as a Healer. Are you interested?" Arabella asked. Hermione looked at him over Arabella's shoulder and he tried to give her an encouraging look.

"What about Harry?" She asked, her eyes darting in Professor Snape's direction.

"Um, Hermione, there is something I should tell you," Harry said, stumbling a bit over the words. He looked briefly toward his father and then Sirius; both gave him encouraging nods. Taking a deep breath, he plunged forward, "I found out that, well, James Potter adopted me. Professor Snape is my biological father." He spoke the final sentence so rapidly, the words slurred together.

She stared at him unblinking for what seemed like forever. When she finally did blink, she did so rapidly several times, before shaking her head slightly as if to clear it. "Did you just say that Professor Snape is your father?" Harry nodded and watched her eyes grow wider. "But everyone says you look like your fa.. like James! And how come he never said anything? He just let..."

"He didn't know, Hermione. Only Bella knew and she was sworn not to say anything until this summer." Harry cut her off, feeling suddenly defensive.

The room settled into an uncomfortable quiet before Hermione spoke again, asking simply, "What about Harry?"

Harry smiled slyly and asked, "How do you feel about a brother?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his question. She smiled slightly, "They'd use the spells on you, as well?"

Harry looked to Arabella for guidance and she smiled at him. It was Sirius that saved Harry from having to explain.

"When Harry was an infant, we, James, Lily, Severus and I, placed several spells on him to hide his paternity. Those spells are starting to disintegrate. He'll look as he always should have soon." Sirius tried to appear nonchalant about what he was saying, but Harry heard how his voice tightened over the last sentence and felt a sense of grief well up in his chest at the realization of how hard this was for Sirius. He smiled at his godfather, grateful for the man's reassuring presence.

"Of course!" Hermione said. She sounded a bit disgruntled with herself for not having realized.

Harry saw Severus lift three books off the table. "There are several things you should know before you make your decision. First, the wizarding adoption that is detailed in this journal," he said as he lifted the first book from the stack, "will not be reversible as it is in Harry's case. Your biological parents are not alive to perform the reclamation." He paused for a moment, as if to give his words a chance to set in.

"There is also the matter of the blood bond detailed in the journal," Snape continued. "Several generations ago an. . . arrangement was made between my family and another pureblood family. The details of the contract plus a narrative history are available in this journal," he said as tapped the second book in the pile. Sirius snorted at his words and Harry quickly scanned the room to judge the reactions of the others present. While Remus seemed as baffled as he and Hermione, Sirius seemed to be agitated and Bella seemed to be concerned. "I suggest you read it carefully, Ms. Granger. However, the contract is not completely binding and I believe there are many ways in which to circumvent it."

Hermione nodded, looking quickly at those around her before turning her attention back to the Professor when he spoke again.

"The final book, Harry, is for you."

At his words, Harry's head snapped around to face his father. Lifting the large book from the bottom of the stack, he handed it to Harry.

"Bella started this before you were born. She insisted that I keep it up. I didn't understand why at the time, but I am grateful, now, that she did. You are welcome to make copies of what ever you find in there."

"Thank you, sir." Harry replied as he carefully took the book from his father.

"Well, I think you both have more than enough to think about for now. Why don't you both retreat to Harry's room? Spend some time thinking it through. I will send in some dinner for you."

Harry nodded, grateful for the excuse to avoid the boisterous Weasleys for the time being. As much as they meant to him, he simply didn't have the energy or the fortitude to deal with all of them right now. He rose from his place on the sofa then extended his hand to Hermione. She took it, pulling her self up and straightening her robes before taking the two remaining books from Professor Snape.

"Thank you," she replied, nodding to Severus, Bella, Remus and Sirius. "I am not sure how I feel about this plan yet, but thank you for thinking of me."

Severus stood, a faint smile forming on his lips. "You are welcome, Ms. Granger."

Hermione smiled back then turned and smiled slightly at the others before heading off toward his room. With the book his father had given him clutched in his arms, he followed. As he reached the door to the private rooms, he looked back over his shoulder just in time to see Remus and Sirius walk toward the kitchen and Bella step into his father's embrace. As he shut the door behind him, he caught one last glimpse of his father taking what had been Harry's place on the sofa with Bella curled up beside him and he couldn't help but smile, just a little. Maybe everything was working out after all.

An oddly comfortable quiet settled over Harry’s room as he and Hermione ate the dinner Arabella had brought them, both occupied by their own thoughts. Hermione finished her meal quickly and took her plate and placed it on the tray outside the door. She looked back at him for a minute and at the two books that rested on the bed waiting for her. He could see her curiosity warring with her apprehension as she stood there and felt a bit disappointed at the indication of the distance that obviously existed between them. He was beginning to really feel the absences of their friendship and he really missed it. He wished he knew how to make everything right again.

“I’ll be right back,” she said suddenly then turned and disappeared out the door, closing it behind her.

For a moment, Harry simply stared at the door then, with a resigned sigh, he climbed off his bed and carried his plate to the tray. Deciding he felt grimy and wanting to change into something a bit more comfortable, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from his trunk and headed to his bathroom to shower and change. When he opened the bathroom door and walked into his room, he found that Hermione had a similar idea.

She was sitting comfortably on his bed wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt. She was leaning against two spring green pillows with ruffled edges that were definitely not from “his” room. The journal Severus had given her that detailed the spells placed on him was open in her lap. She glanced up briefly, acknowledging him with a small smile.

“Ron and Ginny had to leave. Their parents wanted them home and Dumbledore thought it safest, just in case the ministry is watching.” She spoke quietly with a tentative quality in her voice. “They wanted to wait and say good-bye, but Mrs. Weasley was rather insistent.”

“Okay, thanks for telling me,” he responded cautiously. Climbing on to his side of the bed, he propped his pillows against the headboard like Hermione had done and leaned back, shifting until he was comfortable. He began flipping through the pages of the album looking briefly at each picture until one page caught his attention. It was the page that contained several photos from what he guessed was his christening. The first picture on the page was supposed to be of the proud parents. His mom and dad smiled and waved up from the picture as if life was perfect and they had a perfect family. Looking at the smiling image of a man he had thought of as “Dad” for his entire life, it was odd to think that until he was 11, he hadn’t even remembered what his father was supposed to look like. He had loved the man simply because he had thought of him as his father. Now he knew that wasn’t the truth and it grieved him.

The next picture featured younger, more carefree versions of Arabella and Sirius. In the picture, Sirius had Harry cradled, sleeping peacefully, in his arms. His expression was full of happiness and untouched by the ravages of Azkaban. Harry wondered how different this man was from the one he was just beginning to know. Turning the page, he stared down at a picture of himself being held by Arabella with Snape standing behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist. Snape had his hand extended over him in the picture and he wore a much softer expression than any Harry had ever seen on his face. Taking a closer look, he saw that his baby fist was curled around one of Snape’s fingers. Snape’s thumb brushed over the tiny hand, caressing it gently. Harry stared at the picture a long time, an odd feeling in his chest, before turning to the next page.

Based on the fact that all the adults in the picture were dressed in the same robes they had worn in the earlier pictures suggested that this one was taken on same day, but the location was different and unfamiliar to him. His father, Severus, sat under a large tree with Harry settled a bit awkwardly in the crock of his arm. One finger of his free hand was, again, held tightly in the grasp of the small boy’s fist. Harry knew if he inspected the picture more closely, he would be able to make out the man’s lips moving as he talked softly. He was struck by the opposing emotions of hope and disbelief. He was still having trouble reconciling the tender image portrayed in the pictures with the greasy git that tormented him at school, even after seeing for himself the gentler side of the man. He was so caught up contemplating his father that he almost missed Arabella and his Dad ­ James ­ in the background, watching the scene and leaning against each other for support, both wearing bitter-sweet smiles. As he stared at the picture, he felt a similar emotion overtake him and found himself identifying with his Dad and Arabella and loving them all the more. These two people, with no blood-ties to him, had sacrificed so much to protect him.

“Harry?” Hermione’s hesitant voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’m sorry for being so rude to you these past weeks.” She paused for a moment, giving Harry enough time to look up at her before she continued in a rush, “I was just so hurt and scared and I took it out on you and that wasn’t fair. I know it isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault but Voldemort’s.” The room was quiet for a moment. Harry wasn’t sure what to say; a part of him did feel responsible for what had happened to her family. Hermione looked at him then and must have seen the guilt in his eyes. She smiled sadly at him, “Really, Harry. There was nothing you could have done. I don’t blame you; please don’t blame yourself. Not for this.”

Harry saw something flash behind her eyes then and suddenly understood, “Alright, I promise to try and let go of my guilt, if you try to let go of yours.” He watched as she looked away sheepishly. He could see how her body shock slightly as she inhaled and nearly panicked when he realized she had begun to cry. Warily, he slid closer to her and gently pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do or not, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment. He was alarmed when Hermione’s sobs became harsher, but she grabbed onto him as she cried, making it impossible for him to pull away. Awkwardly, he tried rubbing her back, as Arabella had done for him.

“I should have been there,” she cried harshly against his shoulder.

A sudden cold terror exploded in his heart at her words. “No,” he said adamantly, his arms wrapping tightly around her. The thought of losing her on top of everything else was too much for him to deal with. “Don’t ever say that, or even think it. You’d be dead, too and I don’t think I could have handled you dying, not after everything else that’s happened this year. Please don’t even think it, Hermione.” His voice was thick and it was hard for him to form the words with his throat constricted by the grief that her words had evoked. He felt her hands release their hold on his shirt and her arms move around to embrace him. Her tears did not diminish, but he could fell her start to relax, so he kept talking to her. “I know what it feels like Hermione; like there should have been more that you could do, but there wasn’t. They were fully trained Death Eaters and I am grateful you were able to escape.”

He continued to talk and comfort her until both his and her tears finally stopped. When she finally pulled away, she laughed softly, gesturing at their ragged and puffy faced appearance.

“Don’t we just look like a matched pair?” she commented.

“A regular set of twins,” he responded ryely and instantly regretted it when her face froze.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea, Harry?”

He shrugged. “Not sure, but I don’t see any other option. Not if we both want to go back to Hogwarts and it’s the only place I really feel at home. I.. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable though. I am sure we can figure something else out.”

“Maybe,” she said as she settled back against her pillows and began to read the journal once more. He watched her for a minute as she became engrossed in the contents. He wondered for a bit just what the book said and about what had been done to him. Deciding he would ask her later, he leaned back against his pillows and opened his album.

Flipping to the next unviewed page, he studied the picture. For the most part, it was the same as the picture on the previous page, only this time Severus seemed more comfortable holding him and, more importantly, his mother was in the picture. He smiled, seeing his mother, who was kneeling beside Severus and laughing as her infant son kicked his legs in reaction to her finger tickling his heel. Staring at the happy woman in the picture, he felt the familiar sadness settle over him, again. He wished that he could remember more of his first year, of his life with his mum and dad.

“Of course!”

Hermione’s explanation drew his attention away from his the images once more.

“What?”

“Why Snape hated you! It’s brilliant!”

He felt his brow furrow at her statement. Arabella and Severus had explained much of that to him already. However, seeing her eagerness and excitement at her discovery and not wanting to temper her enthusiasm, he let her go on.

“The spells used on you presented a duplicate image of James, complete down to the details of his expressions. However, it was the charms your Mother used that were truly extraordinary. On the subconscious level, the charms tapped into memories and emotions associated with James. Your mother was very skilled and she cast the spells very well, Harry. When someone saw you, especially for the first time, the spell would tap into the memories that your appearance conjured up and associate that emotion with you, as well. It completed the illusion, made it as fool-proof as it could be.”

“So, since Severus and James hated each other since before Hogwart’s, that emotion got transferred to me? That’s why he hated me so much?” Harry paused, considering all he knew about the spells, “Does it mention any way around them?” he asked cautiously.

“Hermione looked at him quizzically for a moment then turned back to the book and started skimming, “Yes, here it is. The charm is based on a prejudice charm. The effects can be partial countered simply by personal knowledge; basically, if you get to know the person, you can counter the affects of the association with your own knowledge.”

“So if I had been, say, sorted into Slytherin and Severus had been forced to get to know me, he might have learned to see past the hatred?”

“Maybe,” she replied, her penetrating gaze examining him closely. She opened her mouth, then hesitated and closed it again. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Harry, are you really okay with Arabella and Professor Snape’s plan? I know you said you were, but really?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ve never really had a family before, but when I was little I used to imagine having a mum and dad and a little sister that I could protect from bullies like Dudley.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why? Are you thinking of accepting?” he asked, suddenly hopeful she would choose to be his sister.

“I think so. These spells are brilliant, Harry. They thought of everything,” she replied before quietly adding, “Besides, Hogwarts is the only home I have left now, too.”

“Even though it will be permanent? Even when it’s safe to take off the disguise, you’ll still be their adopted daughter: still be a Snape.”

“Legally, yes, but I would be a Figg in name. As Lady Arabella’s daughter and a healer, I would be expected to carry on tradition and take the Figg name.”

“Well, do you want to tell them now or wait until morning?” he asked. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He could see her anxiety building and decided that waiting wouldn’t be a good idea. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and pulled her across and off the bed, leading her out the door. “On second thought, lets get it over with,” he said as he made his way out the door and into the Haven common room.

The room was oddly quiet; Arabella, Severus and Sirius all sat separately, pouring over spell books and jotting down notes. Arabella was the first one to notice their presence and she looked up, smiling at them.

“Come join us,” she said as she scooted over, moving books off the sofa. Harry looked over and smiled encouragingly at Hermione, then drew her with him over to the sofa. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his godfather’s amused expression and smiled as he sat beside Arabella.

“We’ve made our decision,” he said simply and waited for reactions.

“Already? You’re sure?” Sirius asked.

Harry turned and looked a Hermione, who nodded. “Yes. We’re sure. I didn’t see any reason to put off telling you.” Taking a deep breath, he went on. “We decided to go through with the plan. We both want to return to Hogwarts and there really isn’t another viable way for that to happen.”

Harry watched as Arabella and his father exchanged glances. His father smiled slightly and nodded before rising from his armchair and walking off towards the room he shared with Arabella. Arabella turned back to them, smiling widely. Moving off the sofa, she pulled him and Hermione off the sofa and into a hug. When she stepped back, she turned to Harry and said, “I love you, Harry-bean.”

She turned then toward Hermione. Placing her hand under the younger girl’s chin, she forced Hermione to look up at her. “I wish I had the chance to know you before all this happened. I know you are accepting our offer not because you want new parents but for more practical reasons. I know we can never replace those that you lost. However, you have proven yourself to be a kind, loving, intelligent and brave girl and I could hope for no more in a child. I will be proud to call you my daughter, Hermione, and I hope in time I can help to fill some of the emptiness in your life.”

By the time Arabella finished, Hermione had tears quietly streaming down her cheeks. After brushing them away, Arabella pulled Hermione back into her arms. Harry smiled when Hermione accepted the comfort, wrapping her arms around the woman who would soon become her adoptive mother. Looking over at his godfather, he saw that Sirius was a bit misty-eyed, as well. Skirting around Hermione and Bella, he went to stand in front of the only person that he had remembered wanting him for a long time. Their eyes met and locked for a long moment before Sirius broke free and embraced Harry. A profound relief flooded through him; Sirius’ approval was more important to Harry than anything else. He tightened his hold on his godfather momentarily when he heard the man whisper a soft, “Welcome to the family, Harry. I couldn’t ask for a better nephew.”

Stepping back from his godfather, he smiled and watched as Sirius approached Bella and Hermione, separating the two.

“Excuse me, but I want to welcome my niece to the family,” he said before embracing Hermione briefly.

It was then that Harry noticed his father had returned to the room and was standing quietly behind his armchair watching the scene. He felt awkward suddenly, feeling as if he should approach the man but totally uncertain as to how. Severus must have noticed his consternation because he nodded toward the sofa. Quickly, he moved to take a seat on the arm of the sofa, just as Bella and Hermione took their seats. Severus merely raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction and, with a sigh, he slid off the arm and onto the sofa proper, causing both Hermione and Sirius to snicker.

“I have informed Professor Dumbledore of your decision. He will be down shortly. There are several details we will need to work out before we can proceed with the plan.” His father’s tone was formal, but not cold and he could see it surprised Hermione a bit. That, in turn, surprised him; had she not noticed, while spending countless hours with him, that he wasn’t the bastard they knew from class?

“What kind of details, Professor?” Hermione asked.

“Aside from the obvious things such as your appearance and name,” he said in a tone reminiscent of the one he used in class to answer what he thought were stupid questions, “there is also the matter of explaining your existence in the first place and why you weren’t on Hogwarts lists and didn’t get letters.”

“I’ve thought a lot about that since Bella first mentioned your idea to me this afternoon and, as much as I hate to say this, there is a very simple way to explain their existence,” Sirius said softly. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking firmly on his shoes. “Urian.” The last word was whispered so low that Harry almost missed it and he was sitting the closest to him. Harry quickly looked up at the others and immediately noted the sad expressions on their faces. His father had closed his eyes; his breathing was so even, it appeared almost regimented, like he was deliberately controlling the intake and outlet of air. Severus’ eyes snapped open suddenly and he reached out for Bella’s hand.

“He’s right, Bella,” he said softly.

He exchanged confused glances with Hermione before turning back to look in Arabella’s direction.

“I know,” Bella replied finally. Turning toward Harry, she explained, “I lost a baby a few months before you were born. His name was Urian and if I had carried him to term, he would have been three months younger than you.” She turned to Sirius and calmly said, “What are you suggesting?”

“That you tell everyone I stole your children to keep them from their Death Eater father.” There was a shocked silence in the room for a long time as the words penetrated. “Bella, I know you didn’t tell anyone about the baby. You told me yourself that you were scared he wouldn’t live, that you sensed something wrong. It’s why you hid the pregnancy, although I am sure it was noticed. You were making yourself so ill over it that Sev and I actually agreed on the need to intervene on your behalf. That’s why Sev sent you to the lake; it’s why I went with you.”

Harry glanced around the room, watching the reactions as he took in what was being said. Part of him was still a bit thrown by the idea that, at one time, he had a brother. Bella nodded to Sirius, indicating he was correct.

“I think Cissa suspected, but we never talked about it,” she said.

Severus expression changed slightly but Harry had no idea what it meant until he spoke. “That could work in our favor. We would just need to explain their absence and why I never mentioned them.”

“Say I hid them,” Sirius said, then turned and addressed Severus, “It was no secret to anyone that we dislike each other or that I suspected you were a Death Eater. We can say that I told Bella the twins died or were still born; she was too weak to do anything but sleep as it was. Say I hid them and that I confessed it to her when I thought you had died in the raid.”

“How do we explain her sudden reappearance? What about her attachment to Harry? It was well known. What about their education up until now?” Remus asked.

“Ah, now that will not be as hard as you think,” Albus Dumbledore said as he walked over to the small group. Harry tried not to snicker at the attire the Headmaster’s floppy nightcap or the attire he wore under his robe, purple night shift with snoring dragons. “Good evening, everyone,” he said, and then turned his attention toward Hermione and Harry. “Severus tells me you have made a decision. It pleases me greatly that you will both be able to return to school at Hogwarts. I believe you’ve made the appropriate choice.” Turning back to the group as a whole, he continued, “I believe it will be simple enough to explain their appearance; Severus can claim to have been looking for Arabella and to finally have found her. If I am not mistaken, several of your friends actually believe you have been looking for her already, do they not, Severus?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Harry’s father replied. “Draco saw my ring on the last day. I am sure he has mentioned it to at least one of his parents by now.” Harry cringed at the mention of the Malfoys. He hoped his new “life” wouldn’t mean he would have to associate with him too much, although he suspected he would have to at least be civil around Malfoy. “As for her fondness of Harry,” his father continued, “I see no reason not to say, if asked, that she kept an eye on him from a distance. Other than that, the subject should be avoided.”

“Good. Now about their education, I would suggest saying that they have studied the philosophy and techniques associated to magic of their level, but not the practical application, as Arabella feared it would draw attention. This will give us an excuse to have them tutored privately versus attending class with other students. We can continue their education on level and,” he said, pausing dramatically as he pulled a pouch from the pocket of his robe, “the privacy will allow them to use this to increase their study time to include learning all the things they should know about Avalon to keep up appearances.”

Dumbledore handed the purple velvet pouch to Arabella, who looked quizzically at it before loosening the string and dumping the contents into her hand. Hermione recognized the object first and gasped. A time turner. A wide smile spread across Bella’s and Hermione’s face at the sight; Harry groaned which, in turn, caused both Sirius and Remus to laugh.

“So then, the last major detail would be your names and appearances,” the headmaster said to Harry and Hermione. “Do either of you have a preference for a given name?”

Hermione responded first, almost immediately, “I would like to go by Livia, if that is alright sir. It was my grandmother’s name and my mother’s middle name.”

“I think Livia is a wonderful name. Actually, Sirius and I had an aunt named Livia, so it is very appropriate,” Arabella said. “Harry, what about you? Any ideas?”

“Not really. Did Mum have any other names picked out, besides Harry?” He asked. It felt very odd to him to be picking out another name. For many years, his name was the only thing he truly had of his own, it didn’t feel quite right to be changing it.

“Darrius,” Sirius said. “That was what they wanted to call you at first, until James started referring to you as DJ. Lily hated the nickname, so she named you Harry instead.”

Harry ran the name through in his mind, Darrius Snape. It didn’t sound to bad, and his mother obviously liked it. He looked to Arabella and his father, both of whom indicated their approval. Looking at Dumbledore, he replied, “I’ll use Darrius, Professor.”

“Alright then. Arabella, Severus, the second and third names for Livia?”

“Third name?” Harry asked.

“Really Harry, don’t you read anything but quidditch books?” Hermione said before launching into her explanation, “Pure-blood families, especially the really old ones, usually give each child a given name and two additional family names ­ one from each side. The mother’s family name is added on in most cases as well.”

Arabella laughed softly at the display and Harry felt himself flush slightly at having his ignorance displayed in front of everyone. He watched as she turned toward the Headmaster.

“I think Mared Igrainne,” Arabella answered, looking over at Hermione. “For Severus’ mother and my grandmother.”

Dumbledore smiled, “And Darrius?”

“Taliesin Alexander,” his father replied then turned to Harry with the explanation, “Taliesin is my second name. Alexander is Sirius’ second name, if I am not mistaken.” Harry smiled, although he didn’t miss the slight bitterness he heard in his father’s voice as he explained the origin of Harry’s third name. He, then, looked to his godfather, who seemed dumbfounded by Severus gesture.

“Thank you, Severus,” said the slightly shaken and surprised man.

“Well, names are now settled. That just leaves Hermione’s new appearance and a few other details. Since Hermione’s eyes are growing darker with the awakening of her powers, they shouldn’t need to be changed further. By September, they should quite match Severus’ in color.”

Harry glanced at Hermione, noticing both her surprised expression and the fact that her eyes had darkened to a chocolate brown color. Looking at the headmaster he asked, “I don’t understand, sir. Why are her eyes getting darker?”

“Doesn’t Hogwarts require an orientation class anymore?” Bella asked, obviously surprised by Harry’s lack of knowledge.

“I’m afraid not, Arabella. Although, if you’re interested in teaching it, I would think, especially in these times, that such a class could be very beneficial,” the headmaster said, then turned to Harry to explain.

“Harry, when witches or wizards are extremely powerful, there are certain outward manifestations of that power, the most common of which is the changing of eye color. If your eyes were blue, they’d go either ice-pale, almost silver like Arabella’s and Professor Dumbledore’s or a dark almost purple color. Green eyes become almost unnaturally bright, like yours and your mother’s. Brown eyes usually darken to black, like Professor Snape’s.”

He nodded his understanding then sat back and listened as the others discussed what Hermione should look like, from hair and skin tone to which of her facial features would need to change. He couldn’t help but wonder what he actually looked like under all the charms and transfigurations. It was a subject he had avoided thinking about for a while, but the dread he had felt before was fading now. He remembered Bella telling him that the spells had replaced the features he inherited from his father with James’. He guessed that meant he would look quite a bit like Severus when the spells wore off. Looking at his father, he tried to imagine what Severus would have looked like at 15, or with a bit more color in his skin or if his body were not so thin. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t quite picture it.

Shifting in his seat to get more comfortable, he propped his head on the arm of the sofa and tried to concentrate on what was being said. His vision blurred and darkened, and he forced himself to blink several times to keep his eyes open. Arabella looked over at him and smiled. Gently, she stroked a hand across his hairline, pushing a few renegade hairs out of his face. A warm floating sensation flooded his sense and he felt every muscle in his body relaxing. He couldn’t help but smile at the love that came through from her even as his eyes fluttered shut and he allowed himself to succumb to a well-deserved sleep.

Severus found himself awake suddenly. Lying quietly, he strained to hear any noise that may have disturbed him. Haven, however, was still. The only sound that reached his ear was the peaceful inhale and exhale of his wife as she slept beside him. Carefully, he shifted off the bed so as not to wake Arabella and grabbed his robe and wand in a rote motion. Soundlessly, he left the room. His feet automatically moved him in the direction of his son’s room; watching Harry sleep had become a habit for him once again. In the peaceful darkness, he had no qualms about letting the walls down and the overwhelming emotions free reign; there was no one there to know but himself. Gently, he pushed the door open and slipped into the room, easily finding the chair in the corner and lowering himself down. He wished he could get closer and see his son more clearly, but he knew Harry would sense him and awaken, no matter how strong a sleeping draught he was given before bed.

Settling comfortably into the chair, Severus thought back over the past five days. His protective instincts were still hyper-charged after the incident with the Dementors. He could honestly say he had never quite known fear like he had felt when he saw the Ministry Aurors take Harry into custody. Facing Voldemort and risking death as a spy was nothing like the impotent terror that had run through him at that moment. Even thinking back on it now, he could feel the adrenaline once again surge into his blood.

Harry rolled over, stretching lazily in his sleep. Faint rays of light from his bathroom and the hall drifted into the room and lit up the plains of his face. The sight of his child sleeping so serenely caused a different emotion to swelling powerfully within him: an unconditional love so profound he still had a hard time comprehending it. The power it held over him was terrifying for a person so dependent on control and yet, like his love for Bella, his love for his son made him feel powerful and content. It wasn’t long before his darker thoughts were banished and he found himself wondering over his son’s features instead.

To his profound relief, they had changed subtly in the past few days. While he was still very recognizable and still bore a resemblance to James Potter, if you looked closely and if you were looking for them, the changes were noticeable. His hair had lost the dry, rough, fly-away and bone-straight appearance and become finer and silkier in texture while retaining its thickness and jet-black color. Severus suspected that if he allowed it to grow out at all, it would fall in soft waves, like Bella’s or Lily’s and unlike his own. Harry’s face was gradually loosing the round, full appearance that belonged to James and becoming longer, more oval shaped and in the process, making his cheekbones more pronounced.

His son shifted again in his sleep. The light fell across his face in such away that Severus was struck by the strong likeness, with the exception of his nose and possible eye shape, to his paternal grandmother, Severus’ mother, who was of Mediterranean descent, had been a handsome woman. Her features were well proportioned, although they were considered too strong to be beautiful on a woman. Idly, he wondered if Harry’s nose would change as well; he just hoped he didn’t inherit his hooked nose. If Harry were lucky, he’d inherit his Great-Grandmother Snape’s more elegant patrician nose.

Letting his eyes drift around the room, he noticed the photo album he lent to Harry was placed beside his bed; the journal his mother had mentioned in her letter lay atop it. The thought of the journal lead to thoughts of the prophesy about Voldemort’s final downfall which, in turn, sent desperate chills through out his body. While he felt some sense of relief that they might finally have found some answers and a way to eliminate Voldemort once and for all, he couldn’t help but despair over the tribulations his son would endure before the end. Realizing he had been there for quiet some time, he pushed himself to his feet and tried to quietly leave the room. His movements, however, caused his son to stir slightly.

“Sev?”

“Go back to sleep, Ha… Darrius. Everything is fine,” he whispered. The shock of hearing Bella’s nickname for him coming from his son causing him to almost forgetting the decision to use Harry’s and Hermione’s “alternate” names; allowing them all time to adjust to their use.

“Okay,” his son replied sleepily.

For a long moment, Severus just stood in the doorway, awed as he watched him settle and drift back to sleep. His heart was buoyed by Harry’s easy acceptance of his presence as he slept. While things were starting to get better between them, their relationship was still stilted and formal. With a faint smile on his lips, he closed the door behind him and ventured into the common room.

“I was hoping you’d come out soon,” a male voice said from one of the armchairs currently turned toward the fireplace.

“What do you want, Black?” Severus replied sharply.

“Your assistance,” Sirius replied as he stood up and faced him. Surprisingly, his tone hadn’t been sarcastic, but rather sincere and cordial. Severus narrowed his eyes as he studied the other man. The dogs behavior was out of character, at least where it concerned their interaction. Instead of responding, Severus merely raised a questioning eyebrow and watched as Sirius leaned down and picked up several books.

“Listen, I know it’s late, or rather very early, but I wanted to talk to you about this without Bella, Harry and Hermione knowing. If I am right, it might make things easier for all three, but if I am wrong, I don’t want them to have placed their hopes in it, only to lose it.”

Severus conceded with a nod, a little surprised but willing to listen if it could help Harry or Bella. As much antagonism as there was between them, the one place they saw eye-to-eye was in their protective instincts toward Bella and Harry. Sirius smiled, looking faintly relieved, and turned to walk toward the kitchens. He followed, guessing that his brother-in-law wanted some additional protection from possibly being over heard, which the many doors and tunnels leading into the common room did not provide. Once in the kitchen, Sirius placed the books on the table and moved toward the stove. Dropping tea bags into a teapot, he heated some water with a wave of his wand and poured it in.

As Sirius prepared the tea, Severus picked up the books that had been placed on the table. He was a bit shocked to see they were family albums. Flipping open the top album, he realized they were old, possibly from Sirius’ and Bella’s mother’s childhood. Sirius placed a tray in the center of the table, took a seat and began pouring out two cups of tea. Taking a seat across from him, Severus continued to browse through the album.

“They belonged to Gran Grainne; they’re mostly pictures of my mum and Aunt Livia. That first book is from when they were small,” Sirius said. Taking hold of the album on the bottom of the stack, Sirius pulled it out and dropped it on top of the open one Severus was currently looking through, earning him a scowl in return.

“This one contains pictures of them as teenagers, about Harry and Hermione’s age.”

“And the point of this little trip down memory lane?” Severus asked snidely as Sirius flipped open the photo album and pointed to one of the pictures on the page. For a long moment, Severus stared at the picture. He assumed it was of the aunt Sirius had mentioned; he didn’t recognize her but she did bear a small resemblance to Arabella. Peripherally, he saw Sirius pull two pictures out a pocket in his robe; he placed one beside the picture in the album. Severus recognized it immediately. It was a picture of a fifth-year Arabella; her prefects badge proudly displayed on her Hufflepuff robes. Looking carefully at the two pictures, he could pick out the resemblance now; both shared the same facial structure: jaw line, cheekbones and forehead. Their eyes were spaced similarly, but were shaped different. Their noses and lips and coloring were totally different, the most obvious being the hair color. Where Arabella had inherited her father’s pale complexion and black hair, the young girl in the picture had a warmer complexion and tawny hair. Looking up at his brother-in-law, he raised a single eyebrow. Sirius placed a third picture on the opposite side of the young and as yet, unidentified girl’s image. Again, Severus recognized the person staring up at him; it was Hermione Granger. What shocked him, however, was the similarity between the pictures. It was too strong to be mere coincidence and until he saw all three pictures laid before him, he wouldn’t have noticed the likeness between Arabella and Hermione. Their bone structure looked the same in the jaw, cheekbones and forehead. Hermione, however, also shared her coloring with the girl in the middle picture. Severus’ heart began to speed up at the sudden realization of what Sirius was suggesting.

“This picture,” Sirius said, pointing to the middle image, “is of Livia Walsh, my aunt. She disappeared a year before my parents married. I didn’t want to say anything until I had conclusive evidence and for that, I need your help. This,” he said, gesturing to the images, “no matter how compelling, is still pretty circumspect. And while it would explain how Hermione came by her healing talent, it doesn’t really prove anything.” He paused for a moment, his expression shadowed by an old and painful memory. “I remember last year, when Harry learned who I was, when he listened to my side of the story. He was ecstatic to have someone who wanted to be his family. I remember how hurt he looked when it all fell apart. I don’t want to do that to Hermione.”

Severus leaned back in his chair and considered what Sirius was saying. He’d felt a flash of guilt and anger at the mention of the previous year, but pushed it aside. He hadn’t actual considered that Ms. Granger could be hurt by any of this beyond what had already happened to her, but he could see the prudence in it. Mentally, he ran through every relation-testing potion he knew of but couldn’t remember any that would offer conclusive proof of a relation separated by more than one generation. There were plenty for proving paternity or one-generation skips like child to grandparent and other direct relationships, but not for cousins, much less children of cousins. It would be far easier if he had a sample of Livia Walsh’s hair. A slow smile curled his lips when his mind flashed to the album sitting on Harry’s nightstand; inside there was a locket of hair magically sealed and preserved on one of the pages.

“You don’t know if your grandmother kept a baby book for your aunt, do you?” he asked.

“I think so. They’d likely be in the vault in Gringotts or at the lake house. Bella would know. Why? Can’t you use my blood or hair or something?”

“No. There are too many generations and separations between yourself and Ms. Granger for any test to be conclusive,” he said derisively. “If you want to know for certain, I need to prove her to be Livia’s granddaughter and for that I will need genetic material from Livia Walsh, herself.”

Sirius sat back, seemingly ignoring Severus tone as he thought it over. “Gran used to keep photo albums and keepsakes in boxes in her room. I remember Bella packed it all up into chests and put it in the attic when she passed.” Sirius had hesitated over the last word, bringing back to Severus strong memories of just how brutal and ugly the old healer’s death had been. Wishing he could banish those thoughts and memories from his head forever, he nodded and stood up.

“I will check there tomorrow. I need get some potion ingredients, as well,” he replied. With a curt nod, he left the kitchen, his cup of tea untouched on the table.

He walked back toward his room, pausing just outside the door before accepting that his mind was too stirred up to allow him to sleep. For a brief moment he contemplated looking in on Harry again then decided to do some work instead. There were several potions he had yet to brew for tomorrow, perhaps he could get a head start on those.

He was about to return to his labs when a he heard an unexpected noise in Harry’s room. Moving closer to the door, he heard the distinct sounds of whimpers and harsh breathing. Opening the door, he let the light cascade across his son’s shivering body. Panic seized him in that moment and he rushed to his side, quickly taking note of his son’s clammy skin, rapid breathing and pain filled expression.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked from the doorway, his concern for Harry evident in his voice.

“Get Bella,” Severus replied, trying to keep his voice calm for Harry’s sake, “quickly.”

Severus slid his arms under his son’s body and lifted him. Climbing onto the bed, he settled Harry, hopefully comfortably, against his chest and tried to soothe him. He was afraid to use magic to move or warm him as he could feel the shock of uncontrolled magically energy permeating the area around him. He had a number of suspicions as the cause of the illness, but he wouldn’t act on it until Bella had confirmed it for him. He prayed he was wrong. Within seconds, he felt the bed depress slightly as Bella climbed up on the other side of Harry and immediately began running her hands over his body.

“Siri, go wake Hermione and send her in here. Then go into the infirmary. In the potions cabinet there are several unlabelled bottles on the top shelf. A black one, a blue one and the potion Sev makes for me. I need you to bring them and a glass of water. Hurry.” All the while, her tone was soft and calm. It was a tone Sirius and Severus were equally familiar with; it was the Healer’s voice and that thought scared him tremendously.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Not sure. I think both potions finally wore off and his body is going into shock. His system seems to be trying to reject the changes, they’re happening too fast for his body to cope.”

“The potions were timed to prevent this. I made and administered them myself.” Severus exclaimed, his anxiety escalating.

“We couldn’t predict half the things that have happened to Harry over the last few years. There is no telling how any of that effected his system and the rate the potions metabolized.” Her voice remained calm and even, yet it sounded distracted.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione cried, obviously alarmed as she rushed into the room, still tying her robe shut over her pajamas.

“Harry’s reacting badly to the potions leaving his system; his body seems to be trying to reject the changes. He’s going into shock,” Bella said. “Sev, help me lay him flat.”

For a moment, Sev instinctively held Harry tighter, oddly reassured by the feel of his son’s breaths, that were becoming more even, against his neck.

“Sev, we can’t help him unless you let him go. I won’t let him cross over. Please, Sev,” she pleaded, her voice stronger and more desperate than before.

With slightly shaking arms, he relaxed his hold and allowed Bella to shift Harry into a more neutral position. It took every once of control he had to hold himself steady. He could feel the bursts of power tearing through his son’s body and knew that Bella’s reassuring tone belied the truth of the situation. He couldn’t stop his mind from returning over and over to the idea that if he hadn’t stopped, hadn’t heard and recognized Harry’s distress, there was no telling what could have happened to him or what shape he would have been come morning, if he was alive at all. The idea that his son might have died before his 15th birthday caused his stomach to tighten and twist and his chest to constrict powerfully. He moved back and off the bed. He watched as Hermione moved up on to the bed to take his place.

“I have the potions,” Sirius said as he hurried into the room.

“Severus,” Bella said, “give Harry a half dose of the Metabolic Efficiency Potion.”

Severus quickly poured out the mixture, knowing not to question Arabella’s orders when she was actively in her Healer mode. Lifting his son’s head enough to allow him to swallow, he poured the liquid down the boy’s throat and counted to ten. At first there seemed to be no change then slowly the shaking began to subside and Severus felt his panic ease its grip on his heart. Taking a few steps back, he slumped against the wall, as all energy seemed to flee his body. He watched, only half aware, as Hermione and Arabella worked to stabilize Harry’s energy patterns. He felt like his mind was beginning to clear and he realized that Sirius was standing beside him, obviously doing no better than he. Straightening his posture, he concentrated on trying to hear the whispered conversation between the two Healers.

“Bella!”

Hermione’s alarmed cry seized Severus heart. He stepped closer, needing to know what was happening and instantly regretting as Harry’s body seized and then went limp.

“Bella!”

The panic was clear in the young woman’s voice. For Severus, time stopped. This couldn’t be happening. Harry had been through so much already; he couldn’t lose his son, not like this. Unconsciously, he started walking towards the bed, noting how pale his son’s arm had become in the last few minutes. As he neared the foot of the bed, the first thing he noticed, with great relief, was that his son was breathing. The second thing that registered on him was his son’s true appearance.

At that moment, Harry’s brilliant green eyes fluttered open and he whispered hoarsely, “What happened?”

Bella spoke first, “Your body had trouble adjusting to the changes that occurred when the potions in your system wore off. It also appears, Harry,” she said smiling at him, “that the potions actually suppressed some of your magic, likely things inherited from Severus. Your body tried to reject the added power and changes to your body. You went into shock.” After a moment of silence, she added, “You’ll be fine, Harry. Promise.” Harry nodded slightly as he fought to keep his eyes open. “Sleep, Harry. There will be plenty of time tomorrow.”

As soon as Harry’s breathing fell into the deep natural rhythms of sleep, Arabella turned to Hermione and told her to go back to bed. She protested slightly until Bella assured her Harry would be okay and convinced her to take some of the sleep potion Sirius had brought into the room. Hermione leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek the walked out of the room, glancing back once at her sleeping friend. Severus realized that part of her fear had been a result of Harry’s sudden change in appearance, yet she had not let it affect her opinion or reaction to him as a person and he was grateful for that.

Arabella then turned her attention to Sirius and handed him a similar potion. He refused it at first, but she talked him into taking it using the argument that Harry would need his support tomorrow morning and that he would need his wits about him. Sirius had reluctantly taken the small amount of potion poured into a water glass and downed in one swig. He’d then walked over to Harry, taken his hand and leaned over, whispering something into his ear. As he left the room, his eyes locked with Severus’; the man’s fear, pain, resentment and love for Harry clearly reflected in the blue of his gaze.

His wife then turned her attention to him and he spoke up immediately, “I’m not leaving my son.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking you to, Sev,” she replied softly as she moved over to where he was standing. “I was planning to offer to take first shift, since I’ve had more sleep.” Taking his hand, she pulled him around to the side of the bed and patted the mattress. “Get some sleep.”

“I don’t think I could,” he replied. It was the truth. There was still way too much adrenaline in his blood and bad memories dancing in his mind to even attempt it. Bella smiled and stepped closer to him. Gently, she stroked her fingers through the hair by his temple. The sensation relaxed him and he barely noticed her pushing him down onto the bed. He felt the heaviness of sleep overcoming him and turned his head. The last thing he saw before succumbing to the dark was his son’s sleeping face.

It was half nine when Severus returned to Hogwarts with a box full of item from his expedition to Grainne Figg’s magically concealed retreat by a lake not far from Glastonbury. The theories Sirius had related to him the night before had intrigued him and for several reasons, he hoped the mutt’s speculations were correct. For practical reasons, it would make it much easier, not to mention safer for all involved. A blood relation between Arabella and Hermione would augment the power of the potions and spells in a natural fashion thus making them harder to detect. He couldn’t ignore the personal and emotional benefits of such a relationship existing, either; it would ease the transition for all of them, especially for the girl. It would give her a true sense of belonging, of being family and not a charity case. Legally, it would simplify matters extremely, as by wizarding law, Arabella would be her next closest relative and thus Ms. Granger’s legal guardian. Not that it would even be an issue until after Voldemort was defeated and it was once again safe to reveal her survival.

Placing the box down, Severus checked each of the potions he had left simmering ­ aging and de-aging potions and the blood bonding potions for Harry and Hermione, the masking and locking potions and a slew of paternity and relational testing potions. He was leaving nothing to chance; he had prepared the later potions to make sure they would be fooled by the spells used on Harry and Hermione. Satisfied that the potion he needed was ready, he summoned two smaller cauldrons, started a fire under them and filled each with a small amount of clear liquid from one of the larger cauldrons. Returning to the box of items, he pulled out the item he’d gone in search of ­ the baby album of Sirius and Arabella’s long missing aunt. Luckily, it did contain the lock of Livia Walsh’s hair he needed to prove ­ or disprove ­ any relation between the woman and Hermione Granger.

He had found the old album in a trunk in the Grainne Figg’s Lake Cottage attic, along with a trove of family treasures. The brass plate on the cover was tarnished with age, but still clearly read “Livia Mared Walsh.” Carefully, Severus extracted one strand from the preserved lock of hair then flipped to the back of the book and withdrew a worn envelope that was tucked into the binding. Carefully, he removed two strands from the lock of hair wrapped in simple tissue paper. Setting one of the strands from the envelope to the side, he dropped the other plus the strand from Livia’s baby book into one of the small cauldrons. He stirred four times clockwise, three counterclockwise and waited for the color to change to a vivid purple indicating the process had begun before noting the time. Going to his supply shelf, he retrieved the vial that contained the last remaining strands of hair Hermione had donated. He then took one hair from the vial and the set aside hair from the envelope and put them into the second cauldron. He stirred the potion, four times and then three and waited for the tell-tale purple. Checking the time, he sat back to wait.

Time seemed to tick by too slowly. As he waited, his mind drifted to the contents of the letter he’d found in the back of the album. The letter had been from Livia herself and was addressed to her mother and sister. The letter was full of rather profound revelations, including why she left -her pregnancy by a man other than her fiancÈ, and the name of her child - Anne Livia. Livia went on to give a detailed explanation of how she had bound her child’s magic to hide her from the wizarding world and a promise to write again. There were no other letters or any indication of the identity of her child’s biological father. If Hermione proved to be the granddaughter of Bella’s aunt, he’d have to do some investigating to see if he could come up with a reasonable guess to the paternity of Livia’s baby. With the way pureblooded families inter-married, if there was even a remote chance of a small blood tie between himself and Hermione, he could use it to augment the strength of the spells.

Finally, the first of the potions was ready. Taking a vial, he marked it Livia Mared/Anne Livia before pouring into it a small amount of the liquid from the cauldron. Holding the liquid up to light, he marveled at the crystal, sky blue color -a positive test. With a sigh of relief and increased anticipation, he placed the vial down and retrieved a second vial. He labeled it Anne Livia/ Hermione and poured a sample from the second cauldron into it. Taking a deep breath, he held this one up to the light. A small smile curled the edges of his lips as he gazed at the pale, sky blue liquid.

Hermione Granger, by tradition, had every right to the name Figg. She was Arabella’s cousin. She was family.

** = ^ = ** ** = ^ =**

It was half eleven when Severus arrived in the Haven. As he walked into the common room, he saw Sirius sitting in one of the chairs, making final revisions and preparations for spells they would be casting over Hermione and Harry the next evening. Walking over to him, he placed the album and a wand box on the table in front of Sirius. “Read the note inside the album first,” he said curtly before walking off to the rooms he shared with Bella and placing the box of remaining books and items on a table for later review. Severus then headed in the direction of his son’s room, hoping that after the strain of the previous night, Harry would be resting. As he neared the room, he could hear Arabella’s voice, muffled by a partial closed door, giving an explanation of Avalon, its history and magic. Based on the period in history, he knew she hadn’t been teaching long. As he stood outside the door she completed a brief overview of the fall of what Muggles usually refer to as Camelot, the death of Merlin and the end of the old ways.

“... By 300 CE, Christianity’s firm hold on England made it highly dangerous for witches and wizards, especially children who could not always control their magic. Magic was considered demonic by the clergy and as time moved on the people forgot the old ways, leaving behind only vague recollections and superstition.

After the death of Arthur and the ascension of a fully Christian Saxon king, Morgainne retreated to Avalon with what remained of her priestesses, adepts and the Druids. Using their combined abilities, they warded Avalon so fully that no one, save those specifically taught could ever find their way onto the island. Essentially, they removed it from the muggle world.”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Hermione said, “but how accurate are the muggle legends of Camelot? Who is Morgainne? And how do you remove an island?”

Arabella laughed softly, her delight at Hermione’s inquisitiveness apparent. Cautiously, Severus pushed the door open and stepped through, compelled to join them. For a tense moment, he wondered if entering had been the right choice; he could feel the tension in the room escalating. Arabella, however, smile at him and rose from her seat to greet him. Taking his hand, she squeezed it, “Morning Severus. You were up early.”

He nodded, not quite sure what to say in reply and uncomfortable about explaining his early departure. Her smile grew wider as she pulled him closer with one hand, expanding the chair she had been sitting in with a flick of her wand in the other.

“Sit,” she commanded. He obeyed her automatically and she was soon settling in the chair beside him, her back leaning against his. His first reaction was to be slightly uneasy; it had been years since he had allowed any sort of it physical contact in public. Although the three others in the room were or would be his family, in actuality, they were virtual strangers to him. Only his extreme control over his expressions and to some extent his physical reactions that allowed him to keep from blushing or putting some space between him and his wife. Within a minute, he had willed his body to relax. It was then that he realized he wasn’t the only one who had been uncomfortable. Both Harry and Hermione were trying to avert their eyes inconspicuously.

Harry’s eyes flashed up at him, or rather them, fleetingly and he seemed to be trying to keep his voice a normal tone as he continued their earlier conversation, “I know you can ward objects and places to discourage muggles for noticing them, like they do for Hogwarts and at the World Cup.” As he spoke, his voice grew more confident and sounded thoughtful; the tone betraying his interest. “But how do you remove it?”

He studied his son as the boy spoke, regretting that his bitterness toward James had never let him see how inquisitive Harry was. His green eyes had deepened in color and had become narrower and slightly slanted. Oddly, the color reminded him more strongly of Lily. The shape of the eyes exposed his keen intelligence and gave his son a mysterious quality as opposed to the wide-eyed naÔvetÈ he had before. He also didn’t seem to need his glasses any longer.

“The muggle legends about King Arthur are based in fact. However, they have been tainted by the Christian clergy’s teachings on magic and the misinterpreting or misrepresentation of the ancient religions, especially their views of women and magic. There are quite a few elements of the story, such as the sword and scabbard, the Knights themselves, the three Ladies that carried Arthur to Avalon, Merlin, that are true. They were far too engrained and integral to the story to be dismissed. As for who Morgainne was -she was the Lady of the Lake when Arthur died, and his half-sister. She is most commonly called Morgan Le Fey in muggle versions.” Arabella answered then paused.

Severus could see she was considering how to answer Harry’s question about the Isle of Avalon. The attention of both teens was firmly on Arabella as she glanced up to him. He could see her consternation. “Over a span of hundreds of years before the fall of Camelot, Avalon -or the magical Avalon - was separated and hidden. The closest comparison I can give you would be how magic can expand an interior space without affecting the exterior dimensions -like magically enlarging a trunk. In many ways, Magical Avalon and the Isle of Avalon existed simultaneously in the same physical space, yet remained separate. Unless one knows how to open the veil or mists, they could not cross into Avalon.”

Bella continued, “Legend says the magic used to accomplish this was a gift or knowledge passed on from the Fey, who had used similar magic to protect their realms millennia before the even the Romans came to Britain. After the fall, the Council of Avalon further hid the isle by camouflaging the mists that surrounded it from non-Avalon trained eyes.”

“So not just any witch or wizard can find Avalon,” Harry said.

“No, only those trained to see,” she replied.

“Will you teach us?”

“Of course. There is much I want to teach you both about Avalon. There are many who learn the first lessons of Avalon. Only the best are accepted as Adepts and allowed to continue the training. It is the adepts who learn the true secrets of the ancient magic. Those that complete the training earn the title of Lady or Druid. Of those few, only a handful are taught the complete secrets and those are the ones being prepared to assume a mantel of leadership. The Council itself consists of the Lady and the Merlin of Avalon, three minor ladies and two druids. If I have my way, one day both of you will sit on that council, but there is much for you to learn and many years of catching up to do.”

A knock at the door interrupted any further conversation. The door pushed open to reveal a smiling Sirius.

“Bella, can I talk to you?” he asked, his excitement obvious.

Bella nodded and excused herself. Shortly after, Hermione smiled and excused herself leaving him alone with his son. Both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Severus just stared at him unabashedly. His son’s dark hair, as he had noted before, was thick, silky and had a soft wave around his ears -Lily’s hair. His face was oval shaped, with prominent cheekbones. His nose was straight and just prominent enough to balance his other features. His lips well formed, but not full or thin like his. He would be handsome young man once he filled out some.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said softly.

Severus looked toward his son, whose eyes were looking back at him unsurely.

“For what?” Severus asked, genuinely curious.

“For staying with me. I heard you. I knew you were there.”

“I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.” An awkward silence settled over the two before Severus asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Alright I guess. A bit odd, like there is a current running through me. Tired, too.”

Severus felt his eye brows raise at Harry’s statement. His description sounded like a power surge, which were extremely unusual. Most wizarding children gained their power gradually up and until their fifteenth year. After that, it was a matter of learning to use that power effectively. “Sounds like the spells on you suppressed powers or traits you may have inherited from me traits that James couldn’t provide. You should be careful until we can ascertain if you have any additional gifts.”

“Traits? Like what?” Harry asked, his curiosity and trepidation warring in his expression.

“Several of the wizarding gifts are actually recessive traits, much in the same way as your green eyes. They require both parents to possess the trait, even in the dormant state, for it to be passed on to the child. Parsel...” Severus words trailed off as he realized the implications of what he was explaining to his son and his eyes darted to the journal on Harry’s bedside table. Lily was descended from Salazar Slytherin, a parselmouth, through his eldest son’s daughter. Severus’ own family was descended from Salazar’s youngest son. A chill ran down his spine as he realized that Voldemort, in all likelihood, hadn’t actually transferred powers to Harry, at all. Instead, the curse backfiring had caused traits Voldemort shared with Harry to emerge or override the spells used to protect the secret of his paternity. Which means there was a chance other traits had emerged as well -like Gifts of the Mind. He shuddered to think of the horrors his son had suffered over the years if he did have the gift and was connected to Voldemort in some way.

“Father?”

Harry’s hesitant, questioning voice drew Severus’ mind into focus. He forced a smile and asked, “Have,” he paused briefly, “do you ever see the Dark Lord in your dreams?” Even as he asked the question, he prayed the answer would be no. His son’s wide, alarmed eyes and slight nod told him his prayers were for naught.

“Will you allow me to test you?” Severus asked. “I would like to see if you inherited another of the gifts from me. If so, we will need to begin training you immediately, before he discovers it and tries to use it against you.”

“He,” Harry questioned, his concern and confusion clear, “you mean Vold...”

“Don’t speak the name,” Severus cut him off curtly and regretted his harsh tone immediately. He could see the protective barriers fly up behind his son’s eyes and Severus cringed internally knowing it was his fault. In a more rational, gentler voice, he explained, “If there is a connection between you and him, then saying his name is like calling out to him in a crowded room. Eventually, he will hear you and focus in on your voice. It would lead him to your connection. Until I am sure you are safe, please do not use his name. Don’t even think it.”

Harry nodded; he seemed a bit shaken by the strength of the concern in Severus’ voice. He could see his son retreating into himself; he wanted to reach out and pull his son into his arms, promise him he would protect him. Promise him that everything would be okay. Severus knew, however, it was a promise he might not be able to keep, no matter how strong his desire to do so. Leaning forward in the chair, he met Harry’s worried eyes. “Will you trust me, Harry?” he asked in a soft voice. He had used Harry’s true, given name instead of his alternate name in hopes it would reassure his son and not remind him of added burdens.

He waited anxiously for an answer. Harry stared at him at first, and then slowly nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice strong. “What do I need to do?”

“I have been told that you are able to throw off the Imperius. While the sensation is different, the skill used to throw off an intruder in your mid is similar. I want you to give yourself a chance to experience it and then try whatever you can to throw me off.”

Harry nodded and reached over to retrieve his wand from the bedside table. Not wanting his son to be too prepared, knowing that taking him unaware would tell him far more, he attacked. “Legilimens,” he called, his wand aimed at his son.

Suddenly, he was watching memories fly by -his son at five, being chased around a schoolyard by several children. A smiling boy, running around in a small yard with a broom between his legs; Severus could hear Bella’s gentle laugh. He saw his son at seven, heard a large man bellow at him, calling him a freak and shoving him into a cupboard. He watched as his nine year old struggled against Bella, begging not to be sent back to his aunt and uncle. He saw a black hooded figure swooping toward him in the forbidden forest; he saw a basilisk sink his fang into the boys arm. The last thing he heard before feeling the backwash of a power surge wash over him was Voldemort’s words, “Kill the spare.”

He found himself pacing the floor of his room, his small infant son in his arms. He was whispering to him that he would never stop loving him. He heard a startled cry and jumped from his seat under a tree, moving rapidly towards the frightened toddler and swept him into his arms just as Lily and Bella rushed to them. He was in Dumbledore’s office, his heart crumbling as he listened to the elder wizard tell him that his wife had been stripped from him and believed him dead. He was sitting in the Great Hall as the newest group of first years made their way into the room. Amongst them was a short boy with messy black hair and round wire glasses. The boy looked exactly like the prat, James Potter and he was filled with a sudden surge of hatred.

With surge of will, he forced up his mental walls. The power of the magical feedback tossed him against the footboard of his son’s bed. He willed his mind to clear and his breathing to return to normal. He hadn’t meant to shove Harry out of his mind so strongly, but the panic he had felt when he realized exactly what Harry was seeing had overwhelmed him. The very idea of his son knowing -literally -the bitter animosity he had felt toward him that first of September ripped at his heart. A flood of self-hatred crashed over him. He should have fought against the feeling harder; he had anxiously awaited Harry’s arrival at Hogwarts. How could he have not known something was wrong immediately with his reaction upon seeing him? He should have refused to allow the charm in the first place. At the very least, he should have insisted that damned charm have some kind of fail-safe for him or a way to remove it if something happened. He should have known what could have happened! Biting back against the anguish, he fought for some measure of composure as he opened his eyes to look upon his son.

Harry had slid back as far as he could, pressing his back against the headboard of his bed. His knees were drawn into his chest, but it was the look on his face that captivated Severus. Harry wore a vague, bittersweet smile and his eyes glistened brightly with unshed tears. Confusion and enlightenment warred for dominance of his expression. Slowly, Harry relaxed, his legs sliding into a cross-legged position and his hands dropping down into his lap.

“It’s alright,” Harry said softly before dropping his gaze to his hands. He watched as his son struggled to maintain control over his emotions. Gradually, Harry raised his eyes again. “H... Livia told me about the charm, how it worked in more detail. At least, I know now that you wanted to see me until the charm took effect.” Harry’s voice was a bit hesitant, as if he was afraid he’d read the memory he had seen wrong.

A soft knock on the his son’s bedroom door stopped him from responding, from telling his son that he had wanted to see him, even if he hadn’t been sure how to develop a relationship with him and maintain his cover. Turning around, Severus saw Remus standing in the threshold starring at Harry, a small smile starting to curl his lips.

“Sirius asked me to come get you, Severus,” Remus said, his eyes not leaving Harry. Glancing back at his son, he saw him nervously fidgeting with the edge of his pajama top. “You look good, Harry,” Remus said as he moved into the room and closer to the bed. “I can see more of your mother in you. I think you got her hair -well, except for the color.” Remus eyes flitted toward Severus quickly before he looked back at Harry and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Good thing, too. You could have ended up with your father’s hair.”

Severus narrowed his eyes as he stared at Remus laughing continence. His son’s soft chuckles though relaxed him and he found himself straining not to smile, as well. Rising from his seat, he turned to Remus. “Would you mind staying with Harry?” he asked. Remus nodded immediately. Severus looked back at his son. “There is Dreamless Sleep Potion on your dresser. I want you to take some in a half hour and get some rest. Don’t go to sleep without it.” He turned away then, ignoring Remus questioning look as he exited the room.

He spotted Bella and Sirius sitting on the sofa in the common room. A teary, but smiling Hermione sat between them. He could see Livia Mared Walsh’s baby album clutched against Hermione’s chest. As he approached, Hermione glanced up at him a smiled softly.

“I see they have shared the news,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for going to so much trouble for me,” she said sincerely. Looking at all of them, she continued, “If you will excuse me, I would like to go tell Harry.”

“I asked him to take Dreamless Sleep Potion and get some rest in just under a half hour. I would appreciate it if you would see he does,” Severus said as she rose from her seat. Hermione nodded then walked toward the private rooms. A few feet away, she stopped and turned back to face him.

“Professor, I was wondering if we could do the spells tonight. I know we planned to do them tomorrow night, but,” she paused and shifted self-consciously. “Harry’s always wanted a family, sir. He once told me that he envied Ron having brothers and a sister. I’m not really in any position to get him a gift this year and the one I had was destroyed. I know he usually unwraps his gifts just after midnight on his birthday. I thought, that maybe, I could, well, if we did the spells then, it would be like giving Harry a family for his birthday.” She looked down at her feet when she finished speaking.

Severus walked over to her, placing his hand beneath her chin and raising her eyes. “I would be glad to start the process this evening, Livia. I will speak to Professor Dumbledore shortly and arrange for his assistance this evening. Perhaps we should keep this to ourselves for now -a surprise for Harry?”

Hermione smiled at him, “Thank you, sir. I think it will mean a lot to him.” With a quick glance and nod toward Bella and Sirius, she turned and disappeared into the private chambers.

Severus turned his attention to Bella and Sirius and knowing other way soften the news, said, “Harry has inherited the mind gifts.” He watched as his companions paled considerably, “I need to talk to Dumbledore and then go to Diagon Alley for some supplies. When I get back, I would like to start the spells. I want to get to Tywyllwch as soon as possible.”

“Do you think the wards there will shield him?” his wife asked, alarm colouring her voice.

“I don’t know, Bella,” he said, fear creeping into his voice. “I hope so, but we need to move legilimency and occlumency training to top priority.” Both nodded at his assessment; Sirius eyes drifted in the direction of Harry’s room. It was painful obvious how strongly he cared for Harry. As much as he disliked the man, he respected and appreciated the man’s decision and effort not to let the recent revelations about Harry affect how he felt for Severus’ son. Suddenly, Sirius’ expression changed to one of fierce determination and he spun around to face them.

“I’ll send Remus for Dumbledore; I’ll fill him in on what we’ve learned and make arrangements for the spells.” Looking to his sister, Sirius continued, “Bella, go with him. Two of you together can get whatever you need, quicker. It doesn’t matter if people see you now, they’ll be learning of your return soon enough. Dumbledore will be informing the Ministry next week of yours and Remus’ teaching positions.”

Severus agreed. Urgency had seeped into his soul, pushing him to move faster, telling him time was of the essence. Bella dashed off toward their room and returned dressed in simple robes, a cloak fastened about her neck with a simple silver broach. With one last glance at toward his son’s room, Severus walked toward the tunnels as he pulled out his portkey that would return him to Hogwarts, his wife falling into step silently beside him.

It was half four when Severus exited Gringotts where he had retrieved several special items from the Snape Family vault. Immediately, he headed toward the Owl Emporium, where he had agreed to meet Bella. They had split their list of needs. Bella went to purchase personal items - robes, accessories, toiletries, trunks and school bags. She also took care of standard school supplies, with the exception of potions, and an item or two that Sirius had requested. Severus had procured the books and potions supplies they would need. He bought several different mediation aids for both Harry and Hermione. Mediation and focusing one’s mind where primary tools in both Legilimency and Occlumency and had been very beneficial in Bella’s healing training.

When he arrived outside the shop, he looked around for Bella. When he didn’t see her, he entered the store and walked casually down the aisles, taking little notice of the variety of owls that perched on branches behind the iron bars as he looked for his wife.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

The sound of Draco Malfoy’s voice startled Severus and he spun around quickly. Draco, himself, seemed surprised - not by catching him of guard, but by the fact that Severus didn’t hide his shock.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to disturb...” Draco’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of Severus’ hand. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the wedding band. “You did find her!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice.

Severus smiled. “And much more, Draco.”

“More, Severus?”

The smooth drawl of Lucius Malfoy’s voice came from behind him. Turning, Severus smiled slowly at the man. “Lucius,” he greeted the elder Malfoy before turning his attention to the beautiful blonde woman at his side, “Narcissa, it is lovely to see you.” Stepping forward, he grasped the woman’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. Looking back to Lucius, he said, “I am glad to see you both. I have been meaning to contact you. I have news.”

“Is Draco right? Did you find Arabella?” Narcissa asked, her calm, cultured voice revealing none of the excitement he could see in her eyes.

“Yes, Cissa,” Severus said. “I have indeed found them.”

“Them?” Narcissa asked, her elegant eyebrows arching up and a thin, curious smile spreading across her lips.

“Yes, them,” Severus replied, “Arabella and my children.” He paused, watching the astounded expressions on his friends faces turn into pleased and curious smiles. “I have a son named Darrius and,” he paused, smirking as he looked Draco straight in the eye, “a daughter named Livia.” He watched as Draco’s eyes growing wide as the implications set in.

“Livia?” Draco croaked, sounding shocked and nervous. Severus smiled; it was obvious that Draco knew of the arrangement between the two families.

Lucius chuckled softly at his son’s reaction, then said, “Really, Draco, compose yourself.”

“Where have they been, Severus? Why didn’t we know about them?” The velvety, happy tone of Narcissa’s voice belied her cunning, inquisitive nature.

“I would be glad to explain more later, when there are fewer ears to hear,” Severus said softly, careful not to reveal too much. He could feel several eyes turn toward them, unaccustomed to hearing such a pleased sound from the likes of Lady Narcissa Malfoy. “Careful, Cissa or people might believe you are actually human,” Severus said slyly.

“Because I didn’t know they had survived until just after I was told Severus was dead,” Arabella replied as she approached from behind Lucius and Narcissa. As his friends turned around, Severus watched Bella push the hood from her cloak back, exposing her face. A mischievous smile curled her lips and her eyes twinkled with merriment. “Hello, Cissa,” she said, paying little attention to either Lucius or Draco.

He watched as both women simply stared at each other, as both sets of eyes began to glisten in the soft light of the store. Finally, it was Narcissa who moved first, stepping forward to embrace Arabella.

“I have missed you, cousin,” the blonde woman said softly. When she pulled away, her face showed obvious sadness and concern. “The twins were born in mid-June, weren’t they?”

Arabella’s face fell slightly, a look of grief passing across her features. Severus’ marveled at his wife’s perfectly scripted reaction. “Yes, they were,” she replied, her voice soft with a subtle, but deliberate bitterness. Narcissa closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath; something that sounded remarkably like “damn Sirius” before she opened them again. Arabella then turned to face the senior male Malfoy, extending her hands to him in a gesture of greeting. Lucius took her hands in his, bowing low to place a kiss on the top of each hand.

“Welcome home, Lady,” he said, his tone full of admiration and respect. Severus could feel the eyes on them and hear the slight murmured reactions those present had to the gallant behavior of a man most commonly known for his elitism. He narrowed his eyes, sending warning stares at those standing around, noting the reactions of the young and probable Muggleborns, as well as the surprised and somewhat awed and apprehensive reactions of those old enough to recognize Bella. Unconsciously, he stepped closer to her, his hand coming to rest on her lower back. She glanced up at him briefly, smiling reassuringly at him before stepping forward to place a brief kiss on Lucius’ cheek. Severus could see her whisper softly into his ear and saw a flash of regret and understanding in the blond man’s eyes.

Arabella stepped back then, slipping her arm around Severus and resting her palm in the middle of his back. Her attention turned toward Draco, who shifted a bit nervously under her scrutiny. She smiled at him as she extended her hand to him, “You have grown into a handsome young man, Draco. I’m sure Livia will be pleased to know that.” The lilt of her voice and the slight smirk that curled her lips revealed her intention of teasing the young man. Draco flushed at her comment, his eyes darting to her outstretched hand to his parents and back quickly.

Severus waited, a bit anxious to see if Draco would actually take Bella’s hand. The boy’s reaction suggested that he did know of Bella’s skills and that he was unsure of what she would think of him. His hesitation showing either knowledge or, perhaps, a simple anxiety that Bella would find something objectionable about him. It was only a few seconds, however, before Draco’s worry was masked by a look of assurance that bordered on cockiness. Reaching out, he grasped her hand firmly and drew it up in a manner reminiscent of his father’s earlier display.

“Greetings, Lady. It is an honor to meet you. I look forward to meeting both your children,” he said, bowing slightly at the waist.

“Ah and such a gentlemen,” Bella replied, holding firmly to his hand. “I think you would make a fine husband for my Livia.” Severus found in it difficult to restrain his smile at his wife’s teasing and testing. He could see the poor boy was rapidly loosing his wits as his eyes grew a bit wide and he tried to force a smile. Narcissa and Lucius seemed to be equally amused at the display. He heard a small gasp nearby, a quick glance revealed Grecia Goyle, the 11 year-old daughter of the Death Eater - ArmandGoyle, hiding just behind an aisle's shelving fixture. He felt his smile spread a bit at the perfect timing of his wife’s statement, especially knowing she could not have timed it better had she specifically planned for that specific girl to hear her. Severus was sure Grecia would tell her father immediately and he would go straight to Crabbe, Parkinson and the others with it. No - it could not have been timed any better.

Arabella took a step forward again; placing herself close enough to Draco to speak softly, for his ears alone. “Do not worry, Draco. I will not force my daughter on you or vice versa. You will have plenty of time to get to know each other. I fully intend to educate as befits a Lady of Avalon -and as such, you could not officially marry her until after her 21st year.” She then placed a small kiss on Draco’s cheek and stepped back, smiling at him.

Severus could see the tension drain out of the young blond and a genuine smile replace the tense, contrived one he had worn earlier. “If she is half as beautiful and intelligent as you, Lady, I will wait as long as necessary for her hand.”

Bella laughed; a clear, bright sound that warmed Severus’ heart. Merlin, he had missed her laugh. Releasing Draco’s hand, she turned toward his parents. “He is wonderful! I hope you will consider visiting us at Tywyllwch Hold next week -say August 5? That should give us enough time to thoroughly settle in.”

“We would be honored,” Lucius replied for his family.

“Good, it's settled then,” Arabella, said before turning toward her husband. “Do you have everything?”

“Just one last purchase and we can go,” Severus replied before signaling the shopkeeper. Quietly, he gave the man his instructions and payment. Taking the two covered traveling carriers, he returned, bid the Malfoy’s good by and escorted his wife from the store. Together, they made their way to an apparition point to head home. As the neared Hogwarts, Severus stopped and watched his wife as she walked.

It was slowly becoming real to Severus; that his wife was home -that he had a son. Soon he would have a daughter, as well. He wasn’t a fool. He was well aware he had spent the past 14 or so years being quite the bastard. He had never been a warm or happy person, yet watching the way his wife moved, simply seeing her made him feel both emotions. It terrified him to think that time may have changed him too much and that he could lose her. So much had happened since they had been reunited, they really hadn’t had time to just be, to adjust and figure out where they fit into each other’s lives. She stopped a few steps from him and then turned. She smiled at him, an inquisitive and amused expression on her face.

“You are beautiful, Arabella,” he said. She smiled at him, tilting her head to the side as she studied him. “I have missed you.” His voice was gentle and smooth as he took a step toward her and held out his hand. He watched as she moved toward him, smiling brightly as she placed her hand in his and laced their fingers together. He could see her eyes mist over and didn’t need to hear her say she had missed him to see it in her every expression and feel it in the way she held fast to his hand. Releasing her fingers, he captured her face between his hands, “I have become a cold man without you, Bella, but I never stopped loving you.”

Bella reached up and took one of his hands into hers and moved it to her lips and kissed his palm gently. “Everything will be alright. You have not grown as cold as you think,” she replied. Squeezing his hand gently, she continued, “We will have time to start over and rebuild our lives, Sev, once we reach Tywyllwch. I promise.”

“I will hold you to that, Bella.”

“I hope you do, Sev.” She said, smiling at him. He could feel her reassurance running into him from where she clasped his hand. She turned back toward the castle, pulling him gently behind her. The soft sound of Bella joyous laugh filled the air as they walked toward the magnificent building lit in the rays of the setting sun. He found himself smiling, feeling hope for the first time in years as he followed her. His life was falling back into place, he had all the pieces now and he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stand in his way.

Harry resisted the internal urging to open his eyes. He was comfortable, snuggled deep into his bed, wrapped in warm blankets. The Dreamless Sleep potion still had his mind in a lulled state. He just wanted to stay there, floating in peaceful darkness. He wanted the low mutterings and occasional growls that insisted on invading his sleep to leave him alone. The noise was like a feather tickling his mind, taunting him to consciousness. Shuffling feet and another, louder, growl of frustration broke through the haze that surrounded his mind. Raising his head, he watched, irritated, as his friend and soon-to-be sister paced across his room. As he stared at her, his irritation began to shift to amusement. One moment, her face would scrunch up in an annoyed, angry expression, complete with narrowing eyes and clenching her hands into fists at her sides. The next she would be waving her arms frantically, mumbling something about something not happening.

He chuckled softly to himself before calling out, “Livia?”

“Don’t call me that!” she turned and huffed at him.

He raised his eyebrow at her, tilting his head to the side as he propped himself up on his elbows, “And just what should I call you?”

Hermione shivered at the sound of his voice, or rather the quality. He had to admit, it startled even him. For a moment, his tone had been quite similar to his father’s; he didn’t think he would ever get used to that one particular change. Hermione, however, shook it off quickly and came over and dropped down on the side of his bed.

“Fine,” she said then, with a sigh, continued, “it’s just awful!”

“What’s awful?” he asked, fighting against a yawn.

“This,” she said, tossing an old journal at him before rising from the bed and beginning to pacing again. “He could have at least warned me or even come right out and told me,” she ranted as she walked back and forth.

Harry tried to tune her out as he attempted to focus his mind on the book. The language was old and formal, probably legalese since it looked like a contract of some sort. Looking closer, he realized it was an arrangement between the Snape and the Malfoy families; specifically a matrimonial arrangement between the first daughter borne to either of the families and the male heir of the same generation of the other. He vaguely remembered his father mentioning something about a contract with another family that he wanted Hermione to consider carefully before accepting his and Bella’s offer of adoption. He snorted; the first time Hermione likely didn’t do her homework and this was outcome. A sharp jab to his shoulder reminded him that it wasn’t all that funny – especially considering it was Draco Malfoy towhom she would be engaged. Looking up from the book, he met Hermione’s agitated gaze. She was standing beside his bed, arms crossed folded across her chest. All in all, she was the epitome of pissed-off and annoyed.

With a resigned and tired sigh, he scooted over on his bed. Patting the mattress beside him, he waited as Hermione climbed up next to him and got comfortable. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He felt the slight pressure of her head on his shoulder as she started to release the tension.

“What am I going to do?” she moaned.

Harry was silent for several moments while he tried to think of something he could say to make it okay for her. “I guess you’ll just have to trust our pa..” he stopped speaking briefly, stumbling over the word ‘parents’ in reference to Arabella and Snape. “…them. Didn’t the Professor say they’d find a way around it if necessary? Besides, you’re fifteen and still have quite a bit of training to finish. I’m pretty sure I read something about Avalon Adepts having to remain pure and untouched – can’t you use that?”

“I guess it could work,” she said, although she sounded unconvinced. “At least, it would delay everything except the initial betrothal ceremony.” She was silent for a moment then added in a soft, uncertain voice, “What will Ron think?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. Ron’s reaction had been one of his own worries. While he had made up with and forgiven Ron for the disagreements during fourth year, it was still fresh in his mind. The whole experience had made him a bit wary for fear of being rejected again. He reminded himself that in the end, Ron had always come through for him. “I think he’ll be okay with it once he gets over the shock. We will just have to make him listen.”

They sat quietly absorbed in their own thoughts. Since they had made the decision to pose as a family, they had started using their new identities and roles in everyday speech in an attempt to make it feel and be more natural. The problem was that it was just hard. For his entire life, Mum and Dad had referred to Lily and James. Actually, Mum and Dad were still Lily and James as they were using the more formal terms for Severus and Arabella, but it still felt weird and a bit disloyal to use the titles.

He felt Hermione shift away from him and looked at her, immediately noticing the concerned and confused expression on her face.

“Get used to what?” she asked.

He looked down at his hands, a bit embarresed and ashamed, not only of the feelings them selves but also that he had spoken them aloud. If anyone should be having troubles adjusting, it was Hermione, but she seemed to be handling it much better than him. “Calling, much less thinking of Arabella and Severus as Mother and Father,” he said softly.

They were both silent for a moment, locked in their own thoughts. Having finally voiced part of what was bothering him, it occurred to him he wasn’t being truly honest with himself. Looking back at Hermione, it all just seemed to pour out of him, “When I was little, I used to dream that my mum would come visit me at night. My cupboard would enlarge and she’d come and hold me; sometimes she’d sing to me or read to me. She told me stories about my father. On my birthday, she’d bring me cupcakes and we would eat them together. I thought she was the most beautiful person in the world.” He grew quiet again, then in a very soft voice, whispered, “She had long black hair and light blue eyes and a smile that made me feel special. I knew she loved me. I always thought it was some memory remnant until I saw pictures of my parents – Lily and James - in first year. After that, I just chalked it up to my imagination. Well,” he paused only to continue even softer, “until I saw Bella without the disguise.”

Hermione smiled sympathetically at him, “When I was 5, my best friend’s father died. When we were 9, her mother remarried. She had a lot of problems with it, even though she liked the guy.

She felt like she was betraying her father. My Mum told her that her father be glad to know that someone was there to love and care for her and her mother and to give them all the things he couldn’t. That’s what I’m trying to remember, what I want to believe. It makes it easier to think my parents can rest knowing that I have someone to take care of me.”

She fell silent again and grabbed the throw that rested at the foot of the bed. Shifting back to rest against his shoulder, she whispered to him, “Besides, the Professor is your biological father and Bella is your godmother and stepmother. She’s been watching over you your whole life.” She grew quiet again and nestled in closer to him. He felt his eyes begin to grow heavy as the rising of her chest against his side grew even. He thought of what she said. Deep in his heart he knew she was right. He’d read his mother’s letter to Bella, he knew that his mother wanted him to have the love a mother, wanted Bella to love him. He just hoped the guilty, disloyal feeling would fade soon. As he sank lower into his bed and drifted to sleep, he swore he saw the door to his room shut softly.

** == ^ == ** ** == ^ == **

A gentle voice drifted into his sleep-fogged brain. It was a familiar voice; one that often visited his dreams. Only this time, the voice was calling the wrong name.

“Darrius. Darrius, sweetie, time to wake up.”

He felt the soft touch of fingers brushing loose hairs from his face and recognized the soft, memorable scent of flowers that he long associated with his dreams of a loving mother. “Mum, lemesleep,” he mumbled, turning his face into the pillow. A soft chuckle and a flutter of a light kiss brushed against his hair drew him further into consciousness.

“Come on, Darrius, you need to wake up. There is plenty to do and discuss before dinner. I want you and Livia to pack up your things so we can leave early tomorrow.”

At the mention of Hermione’s new name, he shifted, rolling over slightly to see her sleeping on her side with her back to him. He saw Bella move around the bed toward Hermione and sit down beside her. She repeated the process she’d used on him, stroking Hermione’s hair away from her face and talking to her softly, “Livia, darling, its time to get up.” She groaned softly and tried to pull her blanket over her head, causing Harry to chuckle softly. The next thing he knew a pillow was tossed into his face and Arabella was laughing. The sound was relaxed and happy and the joy it contained compelled him to smile.

“Come on, Liv,” he said as he climbed from the bed. Coming around to the other side, he pulled Hermione first into a sitting position and then off the bed. She followed him out of the room, the throw draped around her shoulders. As he stepped out into the common room, he saw his father, Sirius and Remus sitting amongst a slew of packages. Sirius smiled at him, his eyes flashing merrily. His father narrowed his eyes warningly at Sirius, although he didn’t seem angry. Bella turned and took Hermione’s hand and maneuvered her onto the sofa beside Harry. Bella then reached for a box on the table and before handing it to Hermione, said “We have a bit of a surprise for you. One I hope will help you feel more at home with us, more like family.”

Hermione looked at her quizzically before pulling the lid off the box. Looking over her shoulder, Harry’s eyes widened at the light, almost white wood wand on a cushion of sky blue silk. Just staring at the wand, he could feel its innate power. It felt as if the wand itself were singing to him. Hermione looked questioningly at Arabella and then Sirius and Severus.

“This wand belonged to my grandmother. It’s nearly one thousand years old. Legend says that the wand was made of rosewood and cherry, bleached and waxed until it gleamed white. The core is from a phoenix – it contains not only a tail feather, but also the phoenix’s tears. Since its creation only a Figg Healer and a direct descendant of the previous wielder has been able to claim and use the wand,” Sirius explained.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide at the implications of such a wand being presented to her. Her eyes darted from Sirius and Arabella to Severus and Remus. Harry felt his heart leap in his chest as the anticipation grew and a smile spread across his face. He watched, feeling his own excitement building as Hermione reached a quaking hand into the box and grasped the wand. Immediately, the room was filled with a soft glowing light that seemed to fill him with a sense of warmth and wellbeing. With a rush of happiness, he reached over and pulled a stunned Hermione into his arms, hugging her tightly.

“I don’t know,” Hermione whispered after separating from Harry, “Thank you.”

Bella smiled at her, “It is rightfully yours, Livia. You are the direct descendant of Grainne Figg. I think she would want you to have it.”

Hermione nodded and swallowed hard as she blinked against tears. Harry squeezed her hand then, in hopes of drawing attention away from her and giving her a chance to regain some composure, he asked, “What is the rest of this stuff?”

Remus and Sirius laughed. His father leaned back in his chair, smiling slightly. It was becoming an almost familiar expression on the man’s face – and a reassuring one.

“These,” his father said, making sweeping motion with his hand that spanned the multitude of boxes, “are the basic items every wizarding child needs.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise and a bit of confusion at his father’s words as he already had the basic items he needed – clothes, a wand, trunk, and money. He even had a broom and an owl. Glancing at Hermione, he saw her wide-eyed expression at the mountains of boxes and bags in front of her; at least for her it made sense. She had lost everything when the Death Eaters had destroyed her home. Sirius rose from his seat and retrieved two wand size boxes, placing one in front of Hermione and himself. With a flick of his wand, both boxes enlarged – nearly quadrupling in size. The box looked large enough for a broom and Harry smiled slightly as he began to understand. Those things that tied him to Harry Potter would have to be put away; he wouldn’t be able to continue using them.

He stared at the box until he felt his godfather’s hand on his arm. He looked over into the man’s blue eyes full of understanding and empathy. Harry tried to smile reassuringly back at him before turning to the box and removing lid. Inside the box rested an object that, to Harry’s mind, was beautiful. A Firebolt X3. Harry knew there was no real difference between this model and the original one Sirius had first given him; the changes and updates were merely cosmetic. At most, the spells had been slightly tweaked.

“My nephew deserves only the best,” Sirius said playfully. “Besides, the way I see it, you could pass on the Firebolt to Ron or another member of the Gryfinndor team.”

He heard his father snort under his breath and Remus laugh outright and couldn’t help but laugh softly with them. Turning toward Hermione, he saw that she to had opened a Firebolt – a Firebolt XL3; designed to be flown both astride or side-seated. He smiled at her awkward expression; he could tell she trying to seem pleased and happy with the gift and failing quite miserably. She smiled tightly as Sirius looked at her, his eyes twinkling.

“Thank you, Sirius. It’s lovely,” she said.

Sirius laughed heartily at her attempt to seem grateful. “It’s alright, Livia. I know you are not fond of flying. However, it would not seem right for Darrius to be using a broom three years old, nor would it be right for him to receive a new one and you not get one at all. Besides, Bell and Mum always preferred the side-seat, it’s why I asked her to get one for you.”

Sirius explanation seemed to soothe Hermione, who smiled genuinely as she examined the changeable stirrups. Harry turned his attention back to the other boxes before him; two were rather large and covered in brown paper. From their size, he suspected they were new trunks. As if on cue, the coffee table slid toward the fireplace and the two large packages floated down in front of Hermione and him. Within an hour, they both had gone through all but one package; inside their new trunks were robes of all sorts, shoes, books, supplies, regular clothes and toiletries. Everything you could think of that two teens from the wizarding world could want or need. And there were still two packages left.

His father cleared his throat, causing Harry to look over at him. “Before we present with the last two items, I would like to explain.” He looked directly at Harry then, “I was hoping to find the means to allow you to keep Hedwig.” At the mention of his beloved pet, Harry cringed. He had tried not to think about the inevitable – that he would have to give her up. He looked up hopefully at his father. “If you will allow me, I can use some charms and transfigurations to make subtle changes to Hedwig.” Lifting the cover off one of the last packages, Severus revealed a Snowy Owl comparable in size to Hedwig with darker and more abundant markings. “Essentially, I can disguise Hedwig, make her look like this owl and vise versa. My suggestion would be to then have Dumbledore present this owl to the Weasley’s.”

Harry looked at the large bird; it had wise, gentle eyes like his faithful companion. To his father, he said, “I’ll get to keep Hedwig. It won’t hurt them?” His father shook his head and Harry smiled, feeling tension he hadn’t been consciously aware of drain from him. “Thank you Father,” he said, the last word had come so naturally to his lips. He knew it was partly from the practice they had all started in using the new names and titles. The small, answering smile that spread across his father’s face and the way the man’s eyes lit happily made Harry feel oddly safe and pleased.

His father nodded at him, then turned to Hermione, “I selected this one for you.” Reaching over he pulled the cover off a second travel cage, revealing a dark grey eagle owl. Hermione rose from her seat and walked over to the cage. Harry watched the smile spread across her face when the owl hooted at her softly.

“Thank you, sir, but you already given me so much,” she said, the regret very clear in her voice.

“Nonsense,” Severus replied, “I, we, wish you to have her. You are Figg; you will be a Snape. Snapes and Figgs do not use ordinary school owls.” His tone was sharp, almost condescending. Harry, however, could see through the harsh tone to the sentiment harbored beneath. He could see that his father genuinely wanted to give this gift to Hermione. Harry smiled when Hermione did, knowing she understood.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Well, then, dinner is in an hour. I expect you all their on time,” Arabella said, then turned to the two. “You two have some packing to do.” She then turned to Severus and Sirius, “You two – go get those potions and spells ready.” Finally, she turned to Remus, “And you, Remus, are with me. We have work to do.” With that, she grabbed Remus’ hand and strode from the room. For a moment, the rest of the room’s occupants stared after her, a bit perplexed.

Sirius just shrugged his shoulders, “Well, I guess we have our orders.”

“Indeed,” Severus commented, sounding a bit amused before he turned and left the room.

Shrugging, Sirius exited to the library leaving Hermione and Harry alone in the common room. With raised eyebrows, Harry turned back to Hermione. “Guess its time to pack,” he said. She merely snorted and collected her things and headed to her room. Following her lead, Harry did the same.

It didn’t take him long to pack as most of his belongings were already in one of the two trunks he had brought with him from Arabella’s house. All he had to do was transfer the appropriate items of his new muggle clothes to the new chest, place all the “Harry Potter” items like his photo albums in his old school chest and viola! Done.

Well, almost, anyway. He still to deal with the infamous journal. Grabbing the roll of parchment he had been using for notes, he began to copy down the last entries in the old journal his mum, Lily, had found over fifteen years ago. Unfortunately, the journal was protected against every copying spell Bella, Severus, Sirius knew and the more obscure ones Dumbledore tried to teach him copied the information, but only he had been able to see the text therefore rendering it useless. Transcribing the entire thing by hand had been their only option. An hour later, Harry was still engrossed in the journal; the sharp knock on his door startled him, resulting in a jagged line being drawn across his painstakingly neat notes.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. With a sigh, he called insolently, “Come in,” as he tried to repair the damage to his paper. Looking up, he saw his father gazing at him questioningly, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if to convey his disapproval of Harry’s tone of voice. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered self-consciously, “I was just trying to finish these notes on the journal.”

Severus smiled slightly, nodding his head briefly to convey his acceptance of Harry’s apology before moving further into the room. Silently, the man held out his hand for the notes. Harry then watched the brief look of surprise that crossed the man’s face.

“Well done. If you had been this diligent with your potions work, you would have received a much higher grade.”

Harry felt his forehead scrunch up and his face contort in an expression that clearly demonstrated how incredulous he believed the statement to be. A small, sardonic smile appeared on Severus’ face as their eyes met.

“Perhaps you are right,” he said, “I would still have found fault with your work.” He paused for a minute and then continued, “However, now that I have a small hint of what you are capable of, I will expect better from you.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether to grin or groan. He had to admit to himself that the small flash of pride he had seen in his father’s face made him feel good – special – worthy. Before Sirius, he had never had anyone he wanted to be proud of him; he had long ago given up on earning the Dursley’s respect or love.

“Your Aunt is here,” Severus said abruptly. “I came to see if you wanted me to cast some temporary charms on you so you look as you did before.”

Harry stared at the man in shock. He couldn’t believe his aunt was here, though he supposed he should have guessed she would be here sooner than later – they still had to do that custody thing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to face her shrieking at his changed appearance or deal with her rejection again. He was prepared to tell his father yes when he felt an unanticipated sense of regret at the decision. While his father’s stance was rigid, it was no more so than usual; he wore his expressionless mask and yet Harry felt like he would be letting his father down by say yes to his offer. Harry took a deep breath and then said, “No, sir. I am fine.”

His father nodded. After a moment, he stepped back and gestured toward the door. Bracing himself, Harry preceded Severus out of his room. As soon as he entered the common room, he spotted his aunt sitting on the couch, her posture ramrod straight. He could see the tension in her shoulders. She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned slowly until her eyes met his. At first, there was no recognition then her eyes grew wide and she jumped to her feet.

“What have you done?” she exclaimed, her eyes never leaving Harry.

“Nothing, Aunt Petunia. This is how I really look. Mum put some charms on me when I was an infant to make me look like Dad – James,” Harry tried to explain. “That’s why, when you cut my hair, it always grew back overnight.” He tried to force himself to relax but didn’t succeed until he felt his father step closer to him. He watched his aunt as her eyes flitted between him and his father as if trying to work something out. Out of nowhere, she nodded as if accepting what he said with no more thought.

“Wait here,” he heard his father say softly into his ear, “I will get Bella and Sirius.”

When he looked back at his aunt, her eyes were wide with alarm. He heard her anxious mutter – “Sirius?”

“He’s innocent, Aunt Petunia. He won’t harm you,” Harry said, trying to sound kind and understanding when he was more than a little annoyed.

Minutes later, Severus returned with Arabella, Sirius, Remus, Hermione and Dumbledore.

“Ah, Mrs. Dursley,” Dumbledore said in a extremely friendly voice, “I expect things are going well for you and that my friends are not too much of a bother.” Harry looked questioningly at Dumbledore, then at the others. Only Hermione seemed as perplexed as he felt. The Headmaster must have noticed his confusion and smiled at him kindly before explaining, “My granddaughter and several order members are taking turns playing decoy for you; providing cover for your absence from anyone, including muggle authorities, that may check up on you. The order members take turns posing as Mrs. Figg and Harry Potter’s tutor, while my granddaughter poses as you – under glamourie, of course.”

Harry nodded to suggest he understood although he couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to pose as him in the Dursley home. He could almost hear his Uncle Vernon ranting just thinking about it. Although, he did get a twisted sense of satisfaction and pleasure knowing a full-grown wizard was spending quite a bit of time at the Dursley’s.

“So, what do I have to do?” Petunia asked nervously.

Arabella stepped forward, smiling kindly. She reached out, laying her hand on his aunt’s shoulder; Harry could see Petunia visibly relax and he had to wonder if that was Arabella’s doing. “It is quite simple really. You simply need to take Harry’s hands, state your full name, biological and then legal relationship to him and then place both of his hands in mine. While all three of our hands our joined, simply state that you are relinquish custody and all legal and moral responsibility for him to his godmother, Arabella Polaris Amalthea Black Snape Figg.”

“That’s it?” Petunia questioned.

“Essentially, at least on your part. I will take care of the rest.” Bella replied. Turning toward Harry, she summoned him.

He smiled at he walked toward his aunt, half afraid to believe that it was finally going to happen; somehow this made it seem so much more real, irreversible. Petunia Dursley stepped forward and took both his hands in hers. Harry had to force down a shiver at how cold and clammy they felt against his own.

Nervously, her eyes darting occasionally toward Arabella, his aunt said, “I am Petunia Evans Dursley. This boy’s, Harry Potter’s, aunt on his mother’s side and legal guardian.” Arabella stepped forward and Petunia placed Harry’s hands into Arabella’s outstretched ones, leaving hers resting on top. “I relinquish custody and all legal and moral responsibility to his godmother, Arabella Pol . . .” Petunia paused, her face squishing up while she tried to remember, “Arabella Polaris Amalthea Black Snape Figg.” She spoke slowly, her voice uncertain until she reached the final name.

Arabella’s soft voice responded immediately, “I accept custody and legal and moral responsibility for Harry.” Harry felt a tingling warmth wash through his hands as soon as his godmother said his name. He would have thought it was in his imagination had his aunt not jumped in shock, snatching her hands away as if scalded. Arabella chuckled softly, then turned her head toward his father, who quickly stepped forward and placed his hands where Petunia’s had been. “Severus, I ask you to share with me custody of my godson, Harry.”

A small smile spread across Severus’ face and Harry’s heart began to hammer in his chest as he waited for the man to speak. Finally, he did. “I, Severus Snape, gladly accept the offer of shared custody of Harry.” Harry felt the smile that curled his lips and the warmth that filled his body. Part of him wanted to step forward and embrace the man, but he couldn’t force himself to act. Somehow, the action just didn’t seem right.

What happened next surprised him. Severus and Arabella both dropped their hands and Arabella stepped back from him. His father took a step closer and grasped Harry’s face between his hands. He could feel the outpouring of magical energy washing over him, holding him tightly in place. His father’s voice was low – hushed. Harry couldn’t figure out what he was saying, it sounded almost like a chant; whatever the language was, it was rough yet oddly familiar and comforting at the same time. The more his father repeated the words, the stronger and warmer the energy around him became. The stronger the magic became, the more he felt like something was being stripped away from him – something he wasn’t sure he wanted to lose. Slowly, the feeling of loss was replaced by an almost overwhelming sense of being loved, of belonging somewhere and to someone. His father’s words finally stopped and Harry could feel the energy being to dissipate. His father stepped back and dropped his hands; the air felt cold against his cheeks where the Severus’ hands had rested just moments before. An involuntary shiver ran through his body. His father spoke again, staring him dead in the eye – not that Harry understood him. It was the same words – spell - he’d been reciting earlier. His father paused, then smiled slightly as Bella moved over to him, wrapping her arms around Severus waist.

“I reclaim you, my son. You are flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood. Never again shall we be parted. I take you back into my family and into my home. You are my child. I revoke my word to the other and take back what is mine.” His father’s words were softly spoken; there was a warmth and sincerity to them that Harry was not used to hearing.

Suddenly, he understood what had happened, understood the sense of loss he had felt. His father had rescinded James’ adoption of him. He didn’t know what to think at first; all his emotions conflicted. Part of him wanted to cry for joy at the irrefutable evidence of his father’s affection – that he was wanted. Part of him cried for the loss of his Dad - James Potter. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he almost missed his aunt’s shriek at the five wands suddenly pointed at her and the sound of one spell being sent hurtling toward her.

“Obliviate!” Five voices said at once.

Harry jumped, startled at the sound. Arabella was the first to move forward and catch the confused woman.

“What happened?” his aunt asked.

“We did the custody spell. I think the magic confused you a bit.” Bella said. His aunt seemed to accept her answer, almost immediately shaking off Arabella’s assistance and returning to her usual, haughty self.

“Mrs. Dursley, if you are ready, I will see you to London.” Professor Dumbledore took the opportunity to say.

“Thank you,” she replied curtly. Harry was surprised when she turned to face him and her expression softened, “Good Luck, Harry.”

“Th . . Thank you, Aunt Petunia,” Harry stuttered, taken aback. The woman nodded once and then walked away from him, following Dumbledore toward the tunnel. He felt an inexplicable sadness as she disappeared from view. With a smile he hoped looked happy, he excused himself and headed toward his room. He had a sudden urge to return to his room and retrieve his photo albums and other keepsakes from his infancy.

It was almost midnight. Just fifteen more minutes and he would turn fifteen. He fought against the desire to crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head and just sleep. The last 24 hours had been anything but uneventful. It started with the remaining spells collapsing in one moment, sending his body into shock. He had discovered the entry about the weapon and how to find the information that would lead them to it. His Aunt Petunia had relinquished custody of him to Arabella and Severus had reclaimed his status as Harry’s father from James Potter.

They had let him alone after Petunia had left; given him time to adjust and say good-bye, in a way, to James and Lily. He was grateful for that, just as he was grateful for Hermione’s intrusion an hour later. She had barged into his room, told him she was hungry and didn’t want to wait on him for dinner any longer. She’d then walked up to him, hugged him tight and told him she loved him and always would – just like James and Lily Potter. She’d then informed him that his family had made a birthday feast just for him and that he should come celebrate his birthday with a group of people who loved him. It had felt right to take her hand and allow her to pull him out of his room.

Over dinner, the “adults” had explained to him and Hermione how they would be proceed with the spells – including one twist for which Harry had not been prepared. The De-Aging; apparently for the bonding and appearance spells to be as effective as possible it was necessary for them to be imbedded into the very cells of his and Hermione’s .The best way to do that was literally grow under the spell, as he had done with the spells that linked him to James Potter. Which was why it wasn’t good enough to use a basic de-aging spell; a basic spell didn’t re-grow cells and bone, it simply wore off and return the user back to their original age. Severus chose a more ancient spell, one that would permanently de-age them while the used special spells to protech memories or stored knowledge. To return them to their actual ages, they would use a re-aging potion. As they grew, the blood-boding potions would become engrained in himself and Hermione on a cellular level, making it that much stronger and harder to detect.

Harry wasn’t too pleased with the idea but the benefits far outweighed all the risks and discomfort. Aside from the obvious benefits as far as protecting their charade from exposure, there were the emotional ones as well. It would also give him a chance to know what it was like to have a real family, to grow up with parents that cared for him, to have a sibling. All things he had dreamed about while locked in his cupboard on Privet Drive. He figured, for those reasons alone, it was worth all the pain and trouble. It was actually one of the best birthday presents he had ever received.

On the foot of his bed were five wrapped boxes; birthday presents from his friends that had arrived earlier in the day. Knowing he would have plenty of time tomorrow but needing something to pass the time now, he grabbed some brown wrapping paper and neatly wrapped it around his old Firebolt and tied string around it to secure it. Grabbing some parchment, he wrote a quick note to Ron; he told him briefly to enjoy his broom for the summer and asked him to look after “Hedwig” for him until he saw him again. He was careful to not mention anything in the letter that could endanger him or others if it was intercepted. He would have to explain later that “Hedwig” wasn’t really Hedwig. With an extra bit of string, he attached the letter to the broom and hoped Ron would forgive him for all the things he had failed to tell him this summer. Dumbledore had already promised to pass a message to the Weasley’s, especially Ron, that he and Hermione’s had wanted to talk to them about what they decided to do and “other things” but they simply didn’t have time.

Glancing up at the clock beside his bed, he noticed the time – 11:58 PM. He smiled, reached for one of the boxes and waited for the numbers to change. Shortly after 11:59, there was a knock on his door. He looked up to see the door creak open and Hermione poke her head inside.

“May we come in?” she asked.

“Sure,” he replied and watched as the door opened further to reveal Hermione, Sirius and Remus.

“Snape and Bella will be here in a moment. The needed to get something,” Sirius said as he walked over and sat on the bed beside Harry and handed him a small wrapped box. With a smile, Harry tore the wrapping paper way to reveal a large dark velvet green pouch. He looked up questioningly at his godfather.

“Go on, open it,” Sirius replied with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Harry grinned impishly. Pulling open the threads, he peeked inside before sending a perplexed look toward Sirius. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a hand-held mirror. Looking, again, to his godfather, he raised his eyebrows in question and waited for the explanation. Sirius laughed at his expression and pulled a matching mirror from inside his robes. Holding it up, as if he were checking his reflection, Sirius smiled and said, “Darrius.”

Harry felt the mirror he was holding warm just a bit. He looked down at it and almost dropped it when, instead of his own reflection, he saw Sirius staring back at him. He felt his grin grow wide as his eyes darted between Sirius’ smiling reflection and Sirius, himself.

“You can reach me anytime through the mirror. I hope to be able to spend more time at Hogwarts this year, but when I am away, I will take the mirror with me. They are charmed to work together and are activated by authorized magical signatures.”

“Thank you, Sirius,” Harry said, both grateful for the gift and relieved that he would have a better, safer – not to mention quicker - means to contact his godfather.

He opened the Weasley’s gifts next, finding the expected assortment of sweats from Ron and a box of sample merchandise from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Harry also found one unexpected item that both touched him and left him feeling slightly guilty – a picture, or rather a family portrait. Smiling back at him were the faces of a majority of the Weasley clan, all gathered around two empty chairs at the kitchen table. Attached was a card that read,

Harry –

Happy Birthday. Remember – you always have a place with us.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Ginny

(Ron, Gred and Forge, too)

P.S – Harry - I know it’s a bit corny, but we all wanted you to know that, no matter what, we consider you a good friend; one of the family. That goes for Hermione, too. Mum and I thought this would be a good way. Every time you look at it, you will know you have a place with us. – Ginny

Harry suddenly wished he had spent some time with the Weasleys when then were at Haven; taken the time to let them know how grateful he was for their friendship. He wished he could tell them what was happening. There was a second knock on his door. He looked up and he found himself smiling genuinely as his father and Arabella entered his room. Arabella approached him, leaning down to kiss him on the top of his head. He blushed at her show of motherly affection, shifting a bit uncomfortably but smiling all the same. Sirius and Remus both laughed merrily at his display, earning them both a glare.

Remus’ expression grew serious and he stepped toward Harry. The older man glanced warily at his father and then back at him and extended a set of bound papers to him. “Harry, this is something I have been thinking of doing since your third year at Hogwarts. Recent events, however, have made it imperative that I do this now, while I still can.” Harry felt his eyes grow wide at Remus’ statement, alarmed at the implications that the man could be sick or worse. Remus smiled gently before continuing, “Nothing like that Ha..Darrius. Just the Ministry being the Ministry. Anyway, when Sirius and Bella told me the news about Livia this afternoon, I asked Professor Dumbledore to help me draw up these documents.”

Remus released the bundle into Harry’s hand. Curious, he immediately began to unwrap the ribbon that bound the papers together. As he unrolled the parchment, he felt Hermione climb up behind him and look over his shoulder. Harry couldn’t believe what he saw. He was overwhelmed and judging by the way Hermione leaned against him, she was as well. He felt his eyes begin to tear as he looked up at Remus, “I don’t know what to say.” Harry’s voice was a breath above a whisper.

“It’s not much. Just an old cabin, some property, old, tatty furniture, some pictures and other personal items. I would have lost it already if not for Arabella and Dumbledore.” He paused for a minute and Harry could see him struggling with his pride and desire for privacy. “As the law is now, I can’t marry or have children, which means I have no heir other than a cousin or two. The two of you are more family to me than any cousin. I would be honored if you would both allow me to name you as my heirs.”

“I would be honored,” Harry choked out past the lump that had formed in his throat. He watched Hermione walk over to Remus and embrace him, a bit envious of the ease with which she displayed her emotions. Standing, he waited for Hermione and Remus to separate. For an awkward moment, they just stared at each other before Harry stepped forward and embraced his former teacher. “Thank you, Remus. For everything,” he whispered to the older man.

Stepping back, Harry turned his attention to the others; he saw the tight smile on Sirius’ face and the emotions that rolled around behind his eyes: anger for a friend, pride in Harry and Hermione and love for all of them. Arabella didn’t bother to hide how touched she was by Remus’ gesture; Harry could see the tears that fell silently from her eyes and the bittersweet smile that graced her face. Severus’ features were tightly controlled, but Harry thought he could see something in his eyes, something like respect and understanding. His father stepped forward next and handed him a long, purple scroll tied with a red ribbon.

“This is from Bella and I,” he said.

Cautiously, he untied the ribbon. Harry and Hermione both gasped when the parchment scroll seemed to take on a life of it’s own and fly out of Harry’s hands; it twisted and folded itself like a maniacal origami until it resembled something of a howler.

“Darrius Snape, you are the lucky owner of a new Emeritty Professional Class Platinum Standard Limited Edition Quidditch training set. The set is complete with protective gear, a full assortment of quidditch balls and bats – including a special set preprogrammed with practice drills used by the professional teams. You set is currently being customized according to specifications provided by your father and will be delivered to you in five days.”

The message was delivered in a booming voice and once finished the scroll exploded, showering the occupants of the room in confetti. A small crème colored card floated down in front of Harry’s face. Reaching out, he read the inscription in neat and small script –

“To our son with all our love.

May you enjoy this gift for many years to come – Father

Please be careful! – Mother”

Harry smiled up at his father and Bella. “Thank you,” he said then turned to his stepmother, “and I promise to be careful - most of the time.”

Arabella looked like she was about to respond but yet another knock on the door interrupted her.

“Ah, I see I am right on time,” Professor Dumbledore said as he entered the room, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Harry glanced around the room and saw the secretive smiles on the faces of all present. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Hermione stepped forward, turning him gently to face her. “The Professor is here to help with my present to you,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath. “For as long as I’ve know you, you’ve wished for your parents, for a family. Until recently, I didn’t truly understand what it was you were missing. I thought I did, but I never imagined how scary and lonely it really felt. Then you turned around and offered me a place in your new family. It made me think, a lot. So I asked,” her voice broke as she tried to continue and her eyes shone brightly with uncertain tears, “Mother and Father if we could perform the charms and spells tonight. I remembered how you told me you envied Ron for his siblings. I wanted you to have the family you’ve wanted. It’s not much, I know, but…”

Harry cut her off by placing a finger over her lips. “It’s everything, ‘Mione,” he said. He was feeling so much, he wasn’t sure he could put it into words: happiness, love, excitement and a bit of fear, but mostly an amazing sense of gratitude for the gift of family – true family – he’d been given this year. And he didn’t just mean the opportunity to build a relationship with Severus and Arabella. And not just for a sister in Hermione and an uncle in Sirius, but also for Remus, who just loved him.

Bella stepped towards them and held out her hand to Hermione. “Are you ready?”

Hermione nodded and took her hand. Stepping closer to Severus, she released Bella and placed both of her hands, palms down onto of Professor Snape’s. Bella then placed her hands on top of Hermione’s. Harry watched and listened as Bella and his father performed the ceremonial spell that acted as a wizarding adoption. After a few minutes, a soft golden glow surrounded the trio. Dumbledore stepped up to them, placed his hands over theirs and added his voice to the spell turning the gold illumination to blue.

When the light dissipated, Dumbledore stepped away and Sirius immediately stepped forward to take his place, giving Hermione a hug and welcoming her to the family. Hermione then turned to Harry and smiled. Harry and Remus each took their turns at congratulating her until the Headmaster spoke up.

“I believe there are still several things to do before this evening is over.”

Hermione smiled and nodded and turned to Harry’s – and her – Father. “I’m ready, sir,” she said with a sureness Harry didn’t feel. He knew what came next – the de-aging potion. Hermione, however, took the potion confidently from Severus’ outstretched hand. She looked at it briefly before climbing onto Harry’s bed and downed the potion in one swallow, grimacing at the taste. She smiled at him; Harry smiled back trying not to show his concern. She twitched suddenly, her faced contorting in pain. Harry held his breath, his eyes widening only to jump back at the sound of a pop and an unexpected wail. Arabella immediately moved forward, swaddling an incredibly small Hermione in the clothes she had been wearing before lifting her up. His father moved in next and began coaxing potions down a protesting infant’s throat as Arabella cooed to her. Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus joined them; casting spells on the fussing infant in rapid succession. Finally, his father summoned two additional vials of potions and fed them to Hermione. He watched Arabella place his new sister into Severus’ arms and almost laughed at the frightened look that flashed across his features while he awkwardly settled the squirming bundle. With a flick of her wand, Arabella turned the swaddling into small sleeper and an indigo blue baby blanket.

Stepping closer, she gazed down on the infant girl and smiled, “we have a beautiful daughter, Sev.” Her voice was whisper soft; all his father seemed able to do was nod. After several seconds of simply starring at the wriggling infant in his arms, his father turned toward him. With a few short steps he closed the distance between them and cautiously held Hermione out to him. With the utmost care, Harry took his small sister into his arms and just stared down at her unable to take his eyes from the near-black ones that gazed up at him tiredly.

“So Harry,” his father said, “What do you think of your sister?”

Harry’s broke his gaze away from the baby to meet an equally black set of eyes, surprised by the use of his given name. “I think she is perfect, sir,” Harry responded.

“Are you ready?” Arabella asked.

Harry nodded as he handed Hermione over to Arabella, who in turn handed her to Sirius. He climbed onto the bed before his took the vial Severus held out to him; for a moment, he was frightened about what came next. He gazed over at Hermione one last time; she seemed quite content nestled in Sirius’ arms. Taking a fortifying breath, he downed the potion in one swallow, grimacing at the sour taste. At first, he felt nothing. In the next moment, his vision blurred and everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes again, everything seemed to be out of focus and distant. He struggled to make sense of what was happening. He couldn’t seem to move right; his limbs would respond. He was afraid. A loud, piercing cry erupted from him and then they were there. He could hear her talking to him and he knew he should understand the words, but the tone was enough – it was reassuring. Someone lifted him. It was the man – the familiar one. He could hear the man talking softly. He liked the man’s voice; it made him feel safe. He did not like the liquid the man poured down his throat. He cried. The man held him tighter, talked to him softly. The woman came closer and touched his cheek. Her hand felt warm. She made him feel better.

His eyes were so heavy. He was safe – warm. He felt like he was floating. He closed his eyes and dreamed of a funny man with glasses, a big black dog, a lady with bright green eyes, the man who held him and the woman who touched his cheek.

Day One

It was a little after half two in the morning when Arabella and Severus returned to their rooms and settled their two sleeping infants into the bassinet that was step-up beside their bed. They had spent the two hours following Harry and Hermione becoming "new borns" discussing and making final decisions on how to raise and re-age them. There hadn't been much to decide; mainly it was three items - whether or not Arabella would breastfeed the babies, whether or not Sirius and Remus would join them at Tywyllwch and how far they could safely jump back in time.

The first decision had been hard to make - but made quickly. While none of them were entirely - emotionally - comfortable with the idea, none could dismiss the benefits of Arabella breastfeeding Harry and Hermione during their first "year." The breast milk of wizarding mothers contained properties that reinforced magical and physical bonds between mother and child; it was the basis of many of the early relationship potions. For that reason, she decided to follow through on the idea when it first occurred to her weeks earlier, regardless of the guilt she felt as a result. It was a way she could protect the children and she had to believe that Lily Potter and Anne Granger would have understood.

The second decision and been far easier to make - but took much longer to get everyone to commit to and accept. She knew she wanted Sirius and Remus to accompany them and she knew that both Sirius and Remus were chomping at the bit to spend time with the children and reclaim some of what had been lost to them. Surprisingly, Severus - by himself - hadn't been the actual problem. She'd talked to him before extending the invitation. While she could tell he disliked the idea on a personal level, he understood what it would mean to both her and Harry and wouldn't deny them. The problem had been the sheer stubbornness and reflexive antagonism between Severus and the other two. In the end, she had pulled rank as primary female in all their lives and made an executive decision - Sirius and Remus would go along with them. Amazingly, and to the obvious delight of Professor Dumbledore, all three men accepted her claim to authority over them with no arguments.

Which left only one thing to decide - how far would they turn back in time?

It was Dumbledore who first offered the solution. While the others had talked of the alternatives - none of which really were sufficient or safe enough - the Headmaster had stared at her and asked a silent question. As the current Merlin of Britain, a title he kept secret for safety reasons just as the rest of the Council of Avalon - save Arabella - did, he knew of one object that could transport them far enough and securely enough back through time. As the current Lady of Avalon, Arabella was the only other living person who knew of its existence - it was know simply as "The Veil of Time." It had been stored in a special vault in Gringotts for several hundred years and had been placed there a millennia after its existence had been long forgotten, even in legends. At her nod, Dumbledore had offered its use and been met with three gob smacked expressions. Nevertheless, it had settled the final matter and all present had retired for the rest of the night.

The rest of the night turned out to be forty-five minutes.

The wail of two hungry babies had awakened Severus and herself. She groaned and silently wished the spells that caused her body to lactate worked faster; at the moment, 12 hours seemed way to long. Luckily, however, her husband reacted quickly. He had jumped out of the bed and lifted Harry from the bassinette and immediately headed toward the kitchens where several premixed bottles were stored. Putting on her dressing robe and tossing Severus' over her arm, she reached into the bassinette and retrieved Hermione. The small girl settled slightly, her cries no longer so pitiful but still quite demanding. Tiredly, she went towards the kitchen, where she could hear Severus talking quietly to a still crying Harry.

When she entered the large room, she tossed Sev’s robe across a chair and then stopped and stared at the picture perfect moment in front of her. Her husband stood a few feet from her, cradling Harry in one arm and holding a small bottle to the baby's mouth with the other. He was swaying gently as he talked softly to his son; both were completely captivated by the other. If Harry could remember this one moment, she knew he would have no problem truly believing and accepting that Severus' loved him unconditionally. Everything about the way he was in that moment was different from how Sev usually presented himself. He wasn't still, cold or formal. His usually sarcastic tongue was talking tenderly - lovingly - to the infant in his arms. Occasionally, he would stretch his head down and place a soft kiss on Harry's forehead. When he pulled his head up, he would smile down on Harry - a big, open, smile Bella knew went clear to his eyes. Whenever Harry flapped his arms excitedly, Sev would chuckle. It was an amazingly happy sound that Bella hadn't heard in nearly fifteen years.

A frustrated cry from the infant in her arms drew both her and Severus' attention to the agitated infant. Immediately, she looked down and started to comfort the small being as she made her way toward her husband and the bottle that sat on the counter. With little fuss, she placed the bottle in Hermione's mouth before leaning over and placing a small kiss on the child's head and resuming her soft, comforting chatter to the infant. She could feel the beginnings of attachment, of love, unfurling with her chest as she gazed down on the small creature nursing hungrily.

When the girl seemed completely content and absorbed in her bottle, Bella raised her eyes to find her husband staring at her with the most intense expression. She felt a warm sensation building in her core and spreading throughout her body in reaction. It wasn't just the deep love or passion she saw shining in his black eyes, but the awe, the protectiveness and the possessiveness that overwhelmed her senses. She could feel her body moving toward him, drawn by a powerful force. She desperately wanted to touch him, feel the strength of his emotions as they rushed over her. She leaned over, careful not to crush Hermione between herself and his arm, and placed a small kiss his cheek. She then whispered in his ear, "Do you have any idea how sexy a half naked man with a baby is?"

She smirked, hearing him groan softly and feeling the slight rise in his body temperature. When her eyes met his again, she felt her own temperature climb and her body shudder as she exhaled. Severus leaned forward then, somehow managing to manipulate his body to protect the infants while he lowered his lips to hers in a demanding kiss.

"Uh! Can't you two confine that sort of behavior to your room?"

Bella groaned and then signed in annoyance at the sound of her brother's - in her opinion - poorly timed interruption. She heard Sirius walking towards them and when she turned to glare at him, she found she couldn't. The closer he came to her, the easier it was to feel the waves of emotion coming off him. The usual darkness and despair that was Azkaban's legacy was hidden beneath a powerful feeling of love, happiness and a sense of being settled, like what he saw before him was as it should be. It surprised her knowing the antagonism and acrimony that existed between her brother and her husband. She felt her eyes well up with tears as she smiled at him before internally cursing the hormones that were surging into her system and wreaking havoc with her emotions.

"Why don't you let me take her so you can go back to sleep?" Sirius asked when he reached her side. "You need to rest if you are going to do that spell with Dumbledore tomorrow."

Her immediate reaction was to deny her brother's request but an annoying inner voice told her he was right. Casting a quick glance at Severus, she saw that he shared her reservations and yet, had come to the same conclusion. He nodded his head, encouraging her to take the offer. With a bit of hesitation, she turned back to her brother and carefully transferred Hermione to him. She watched him intently as he settled the tiny person in his arms. She smiled softly at the sight before placing a soft kiss on her new daughter's forehead. She did the same for Harry then bid her husband good night with a soft kiss on his cheek.

It was harder to leave the room than she ever thought it would be; every instinct was telling her to stay with her children but she recognized that she truly did need to get some rest. Tomorrow was going to be long and tiring enough without at least a few hours of sleep. Curling up on her side, she tried to ignore how alone she felt in the large bed. She had grown quite used to Severus' presence at night, both physically and emotionally. Closing her eyes, she tried to will herself to sleep but found it nearly impossible. Rolling over, she grabbed Sev’s pillow and hugged it to herself. Closing her eyes, she conjured up the memory of the first night she and Sev had shared their bed since her arrival at Haven. She smiled as the remembered emotions and warmth of their connection washed over her; it had shocked them to discover that they had both used the connection between their rings to reach out to each other subconsciously as they slept over the years. Their close proximity that night caused a surge of magical feedback that had awakened both of them.

A similar tingle danced along her body as she felt the bed behind her sink down and warm arms slip around her waist. With a sleepy sigh, she rolled over to face her husband.

“Where are the babies?” she asked softly as she snuggled up to him.

“With Sirius,” he replied softly, brushing a kiss against her forehead as he settled himself.

“You left my tiny babies with my brother?” she asked, propping herself up a bit. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her brother; she just couldn’t believe Sev would leave them both – especially Harry, with Sirius.

“He had a point,” he admitted grudgingly, “We both need our sleep for tomorrow more than he does. Besides, we will be up in two hours anyway. He said he would wake Remus if he needed help.”

Accepting his response, she nestled down, placing her head on his chest and smiled to herself. She felt his arm wrap around her, securing her to his side and sighed. Closing her eyes, she let the rhythm of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

=============================

The sound of happily gurgling babies called to her, pulling her from a deep sleep. She smiled as she opened her eyes to see two small forms on the bed beside her. Both looked like they were ready for the day, dressed in warm, footed sleepers – Harry in purple with gold snitches, Hermione in red with little black cats. She was overcome with a feeling of awe and protectiveness as she looked at them; she wanted to lift them into her arms and hold them tightly, never let them go. She felt the bed jostle slightly and looked up, smiling as Severus, fully dressed in imposing black robes, stretched out carefully on the bed opposite her. She watched his as he reached out and brushed his finger against Harry’s check. She laughed in delight at the unusually gleeful and surprised look on her husband’s face when Harry reacted happily to the stimuli. He glared at her briefly, but the irritation that showed in his face didn’t reach his eyes. On the contrary, to Arabella, his eyes seemed to be lit from within, glowing with simple happiness. It was a look she hadn’t seen since their wedding day.

Severus glanced back at the infants and tentatively extended his hand over his daughter and gently stroked her small hand. Reflexively, Hermione grabbed on to his finger, making delighted baby noises as she shook her arm with Sev’s index finger locked firmly in her tiny fist. He smiled at the little girl curiously and Arabella couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before he lost his heart completely to the little girl. Sev looked up and smiled at her. Slowly and with great care, he propped himself up and leaned over the babies to place a gentle kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes and let his emotions wash over her, felt the love and sense of belonging that dominated him at moment. She opened her eyes as he pulled back.

“You should get up. We’ll be leaving soon,” he said softly as he climbed back off the bed and straightened his robes. “Everything is ready.”

Nodding, she slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Harry and Hermione. Quickly, she discarded her sleeping shift and pulled on travel robes over a Muggle blouse and jeans. A few quick spells plaited her hair down her back and cleaned her face. Going back to the bed, she carefully lifted Hermione into her arms. Snuggling the child close, she found it hard not to breathe in the sweet baby smell or to resist the urge to smother the child with affection. After placing a kiss on Hermione’s forehead and talking softly to her while making a few silly faces for a few minutes, she looked up to see her husband holding Harry carefully, equally hypnotized by his son. With Hermione settled in her arms, she walked over and placed a kiss on Harry’s forehead before walking out of the room and joining those waiting in the common room.

Just over an hour later, she found herself, along with her children, husband, brother, friend, a house elf and Dumbledore on a remote coastline in Northern Wales. Hidden at the foot of a cliff, she watched as Dumbledore withdrew a long, narrow wooden box about four, maybe five feet long, but no more than two inches in height or width from inside his robes. Placing it lengthwise on the sand in front of him, he turned and extended his hand toward her.

“Are you ready, Arabella?” he asked.

She nodded, feeling a bit apprehensive now that the moment was actually here. Opening her cloak, she revealed Hermione, who protested at the sudden change in temperature while Arabella held her out to Sirius. She smiled briefly as her brother settled and comforted the infant before turning back and stepping up beside and taking Dumbledore’s hand. Closing her eyes, she narrowed the focus of her mind, tried to only see and feel the magical energy within her and that surrounded her.

Long ago, when the Priestesses and the Druids had worshipped the natural gods, they had believed all their magic came from them. They had no use for wands and only used staffs for the most powerful of spells. After the arrival of Christianity to Britain, they’d learned or perhaps accepted that, while the ability to perform magic maybe a gift from God or the Goddess, the power did reside within themselves. As wizarding education and the use of wands to channel magical power began to spread, more and more drifted from the strict teachings and practices of Avalon in favor of a more generic magical education. Many of Avalon’s teaching were reserved to only a select few chosen from the best and the brightest, but not necessarily the most powerful, to be among the elite of small community while the rest of the wizarding world forgot about ways and techniques that were once common place. Forgotten amongst those ancient secrets was the true nature of “wandless” magic – that you didn’t need to be particularly powerful to utilize magic without a wand; all you really needed to know was how to focus, to concentrate the magic, to believe in the magic and to channel it through your words and body like the ancient Priestess and Druids did with their invocations and prayers.

Feeling the tingling in her hands, she opened her eyes, seeing the world through her magic; it seemed to dance and sparkle with a life unseen to the average eye. Glancing toward Dumbledore she gave him a nod and listened as he slowly began the chant that would weave the magic of the spell.

//

Mother, hear us

Time, hear us

We beseech you to answer our call.

A time has come we wish to visit once more

A time has finished we wish to reclaim

One year passed we would live again.

Mother, Hear us

Time, hear us

We beseech you to answer our call.

Open the gates

Let us pass through

To a time that was once and is no more.//

Arabella could feel the power pouring out of her, energizing her as she chanted repeatedly in time with Professor Dumbledore. She could see the mists rising around them and the curtain of shimmering energy that emerged like a golden veil from within the box at their feet. Time seemed to suspend, leaving her floating in a cocoon of warmth and peace that seeped into her through her very pores. She knew, in that detached moment, why her ancient sisters believed they were standing in the presence of the divine. Truth was, in that moment, she believed it herself and looked into the shimmering light that surrounded her and sent out to whatever ultimate power existed all the love and acceptance she had within her, as well as her profound gratitude that he/she had understood her desire to protect and shelter her family and answered her prayer.

Dropping Dumbledore’s hand, she raised her hands high and continued repeating the chant. She could feel the magic vibrating around her. She felt the winds pick up around her slightly and then die as the door slide open. There was no other way to describe what she felt as the portal opened itself. Dropping her arms, she stepped back and stared in wonder at the iridescent shimmering veil that hung in the air in front of her, a thin slit down the center ruffling in a non-existent breeze. Turning toward Professor Dumbledore, she smiled, “Congratulations, Lord Merlin.”

Dumbledore laughed, his eyes sparklingly merrily, “And to you Lady Avalon. I see now why your grandmother chose you to succeed her, even at such a young age. Perhaps, if I had realized years ago, things could have been different.” As he said the last, his eyes flitted toward Severus and Harry and then towards Sirius. She knew what he was not saying; she could see in his eyes how much their suffering pained him. She knew, in that instant, as well, that what had been, what had happened – had to be. Any deviation from that path could have led them all to destruction. There were so many variables, so many what-if's that she couldn’t even guess at, yet she simply knew that things had happened as they had for a reason beyond them all.

Smiling up at him, she took his hand and opened a connection to Albus, She let him feel her certainty as she knew she could never explain the feeling to him. “What happened had to be, Albus. You knew that far better than I ever did. Perhaps that is why we have this opportunity now, a chance to heal some of those wounds, without losing the blessings the suffering bought us.”

He looked at her quizzically for a moment before he nodded. They turned then as one to face three amazed men. Their shocked expressions were almost amusing.

“That was…” her brother started to say, “amazing.”

“You are certain it worked?” Severus asked. She knew he had been a bit skeptical of what Dumbledore had suggested, his faith in the Headmaster and in herself the only things that kept him from voicing that disbelief.

“Certain,” Dumbledore replied, “but you are welcome to verify that if you wish.”

Severus nodded and took a step toward her, slowly shifting Harry so he could place him in her arms.

“Wait, Severus,” Sirius called out, “let me go. As much as I hate to admit it, Bella and the babies need you right now more than they need me. If something is wrong...”

“Stop it, Sirius!” Bella exclaimed, alarmed by the resigned sadness that flashed in her brother’s eyes, “Don’t ever talk about me not needing you ever again."

“That isn’t what I meant, Bella,” Sirius said, contrite. “I just meant that Severus is more necessary for your protection right now.”

As he spoke, Remus caught her eye and smiled at her gently before turning and quickly moving through the portal. All of them rushed forward at once, looking through the shimmering translucent veil to see Remus standing, visibly unharmed, on the other side.

“Give me a minute and I’ll check the date and the general area,” he said, his voice, as it drifting through the veil, sounded distorted and distant. He disappeared from view and Bella spent several anxious moments waiting for him to reappear. Several minutes later, he stood before them smiling.

“Everything is in order,” he said.

Immediately, Severus, Sirius and the little house elf sprung into action. Trunks were placed under locomotor spells and followed the house elf through the veil. Severus with Harry and Sirius with Hermione followed, leaving only Arabella and Dumbledore on the other side. With one last glance at the elder wizard, Arabella smiled.

“See you tomorrow?” she asked, trying not to smile at her own corny joke.

Dumbledore laughed gleefully as she stepped through the veil. As one they raised their arms,

//Thank you, Mother for hearing us.

Thank you, Time, for granting our request. //

Almost immediately, Bella could felt he magic dissipate and the shimmering light of the veil faded leaving behind only the mists that had surrounded it. When she turned toward the small crowd on the rocky shoreline, she saw her brother still holding Hermione, Remus, who was now holding Harry and that elf – Winky. Severus was gone. Looking out toward the rolling waters, she could just make out the small boats that were coming toward them with Severus standing in the lead boat.

Walking up to Remus, she reclaimed Harry and carefully cuddled him in her arms. Dipping her head down, she whispered softly into his ear, “You got your wish, my Harry-bean. Your papa is coming to take us home.”

July 31(1994)

It was just past noon on their first day on Tywyllwch and already Arabella was exhausted.

Almost as soon as they arrived on the island, Severus and Remus took two of the three house elves that greeted them and went off to get the supplies they would need - enough to last them a good long time, or at least until they were more self-sufficient. Arabella and Sirius had been left on the docks with the trunks, the babies, Winky - who had come with them ­ and old Morse, who struck her as a less twisted version of the Black family elf, Kreacher. So far, she had spent four hours overseeing and organizing the cleaning effort, not to mention pitching in with some of the actual cleaning. The master suite and nursery were tackled first. There was still quite a bit of work to be done. The décor was outdated and faded after fifteen years of disuse but at least the room was clean and presentable. When the two elves, Mimi and Iggy, had returned with the first load of supplies, she had immediately set to work with them in organizing the kitchens and storage while she sent Sirius off to set up his rooms in the North tower and to put Remus’ things in the West Tower.

That was two hours ago and, at the moment, she was ready to drop. The effort involved in the spell that morning was beginning to catch up with her; it had taken quite a bit out of her and she felt literally drained. The changes occurring in her body were not making it easier on her, either. She was tired and the hormones were making her irritable and very emotional. She could feel the slight trembling in her limbs that warned her that she was pushing herself too far. A soft whimper came from the carrier that sat on the kitchen table, followed almost immediately by the soft whine of a large black dog in the doorway.

“I think it's almost time for the little ones to eat,” she said as she flicked her wand at the basket, commanding it to follow her. Turning to the elves, she said, “Please continue the cleaning in the Great Hall, the Library and the Sitting Room. Winky, when Master Severus and Remus return, tell them I took the twins upstairs. If you need anything, please come to me.” She said, smiling at the little elf in her new “uniform.” Arabella could already see the difference in the creature since meeting her for the first time that morning. Another whimper from the basket cut her musings short. “Coming Snuffles?” she called over her shoulder as she walked toward the steps.

Wearily, she climbed the stairs up two floors to the Master’s suite, grateful for the excuse to sit down and rest. She heard the door to her rooms shut behind her and the distinctive pop that indicated Snuffles was once again Sirius. She heard him moving about the rooms and figured he was looking for the potions Severus had left for her. While he searched, she lifted the babies from the carrier and placed them her bed and quickly checked and changed their diapers. Once they were settled, she sat on the edge of the bed and simply stared at them in wonder. She still couldn’t believe they were hers now ­ her responsibility ­ her children. She just hoped she could do as well by them as their birth mothers had done.

A gentle hand squeezed her shoulder and she turned to face her brother’s worried countenance. Wordlessly, he handed her a vial of the metabolic efficiency potion that she swallowed with little protest. He then handed her a thick, creamy shake-like drink that was, in actuality, a highly concentrated nourishment potion that Severus developed. It was designed to counteract the effects of malnourishment or starvation; in her case, it was providing the raw materials needed for her body to produce enough breast milk to support the most of the needs of two infants growing at an accelerated rate without damaging her own body. They planned to use a specially prepared version of the potion as the supplemental formula for the twins.

As her fingers brushed against her brother’s hand, she felt the struggle going on inside of him. She squeezed his hand tightly, understanding his misgivings and worries; she shared some of them. However, she knew neither would deny the benefits of the experience for all involved.

“You okay, Siri?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he replied in an equally quiet voice, “You?”

“I’ll be fine, Siri. Promise. I can’t ignore the benefits.”

“I know, Bella,” he said with a resigned sigh as he stared down at the infants, “I just can’t help worrying. So many things that could go wrong and they wouldn't even be able to defend themselves, not to mention how this is already affecting you.”

Sliding closer to her brother, Arabella placed her hand on his back and rubbed gently. “I know, but I'll be fine. I have you, Remi and Sev looking after me and you know how important the innate magic in the milk is. how It will strengthen the bonds between us ­ including the blood bonds induced by the potions.” She paused for a moment, "You know we've taken every precaution and have contingency plans in place in case of the worst."

“There isn’t anything I wouldn't do for them, you know.” Sirius replied. He paused for a moment before his expression rapidly changed to one of child-like glee, “I’ll get to be with them this time, do all the things I wanted to do with Harry but never had the chance.”

Arabella smiled at him but her reply was cut short by the sudden indignant shrieks coming from the two small infants on the bed. “Siri, would you like to feed Harry?” she asked, “Sev left some prepared formula for them. It should be in the cooler box with the other potions.”

Sirius smiled widely and jumped up immediately heading for the box and retrieved a bottle. He cast a simple warming charm on it before lifting a fussing Harry into his arms. Arabella watched him closely as he settled himself gingerly into an armchair. He shifted Harry awkwardly, the infant protesting slightly, until her brother had the infant resting comfortably in the correct arrangement for feeding. As soon as he had the bottle in position, Harry latched on to it and started to suck greedily. For a few moments, Arabella watched them, captivated by not only the sight before her, but also by how enchanted Sirius was by the infant in his arms.

A frustrated whimper drew her attention and he looked down to see Hermione’s face scrunched up and red. Reaching down, she lifted the small girl into her arms. Taking a throw blanket from the foot of the bed, she settled herself against the headboard and pillows. As the baby squirmed, she fumbled with the fastenings on her robes until she could get free. Getting the baby in position, she waited to feel the odd sensation of the small mouth drawing sustenance from her body. Taking the throw, she used it to cover herself and sat back to watch her new daughter.

** == ^ == ** ** == ^ === **

Early September

Arabella felt the bed shift even before she heard the first whimpers coming from the crib at the side of the bed. Moaning softly, she already missed the comforting, warm presence of her husband as she rolled over into a sitting position and summoned the extra pillows from the floor. A brief glance at the window showed no light trying to peak through the heavy curtains, which meant it was still the dead of night. Quickly, she settled the support pillows around her, unbuttoned her night shift and waited for Severus to bring Harry to her. At 18 lbs, he was already twice the size he had been when they arrived a month ago. While he and Hermione looked and acted like typical six-month old babies, which biologically they were, they ate twice as much as a regular newborn. Arabella treasured every minute of it.

Severus handed her a squirming, cranky, but freshly diapered Harry and she settled him against her and watched him as he sucked contentedly, his tiny fists grasping at her breast. No matter how often the scene was repeated, she still found herself captivated by the infant ­ the softness of his skin, the distinct baby smell, the way his little features seemed to brighten when he saw her or the funny little contented noises he made as he ate. Arabella loved to cradle the babies against her, feel their warmth against her skin as she fed them; she couldn’t exactly put into words how she felt ­ the feelings were that powerful.

Gently, she stroked Harry’s cheek as he drank and felt his simple, basic emotions hovering on the outer edge of her consciousness. She could feel the warmth she usually associated with love and familiarity, with trust. Every time she felt those emotions, from either child, it triggered a fierce devotion within her - a tremendous, unconditional love that defied everything rational. Leaning forward slightly, she kissed Harry’s bald head.

“Bella?” Severus asked quietly.

Looking up, she saw that he had returned to the bed with a content Hermione. A bottle was firmly rooted between her lips and she was placed on a pillow in a position similar to Harry’s. Lying on his side, he smiled curiously at her across the babies lying between them. She smiled back at him, trying to figure out how to put into words what she was feeling. Unconsciously, she reached out to stroke a finger against Hermione’s cheek; the little girl turned her head slightly and almost seemed to smile at her around the nipple of the bottle. Again, that all encompassing love washed over her and Arabella couldn’t imagine loving anyone more than she loved Hermione and Harry in those moments.

Severus’ hand brushed hers gently and she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered as his love and understanding washed over her. He tilted his head, looking at her quizzically and she knew he was waiting for her to elaborate. “For this time, for these two,“ she said, “for accepting and dealing with Sirius and Remus. I know it’s hard for you to be around them so much.” She paused, breathing deep as she looked down at the babies again, “I’m happy, Sev. I forgot how happy I was before, being with you, having my brother and Remus around.”

Severus squeezed her hand and let down some of his mental and emotional walls. She understood that it was his way of expressing his feelings to her when he couldn’t find the right words. Verbal communication was a skill they were still working on together. Getting to know each other again had been easier in some ways than others. She recognized how intensely private her husband was and that he rarely talked about himself with others. In her whole life, she had only know him to open up to four people; his mother, herself, Lily and Lucius Malfoy. His mother had died when he was very young, he’d grown apart from Lily after Hogwarts during his period with Voldemort and then grown apart from Lucius when he returned to the light. He had spent the last fourteen years virtually alone, without a single confidant he could talk about everything with and fourteen years of enforced self-isolation habits was hard to overcome.

Harry released his hold on her about the same time as Hermione finished her bottle, both having fallen asleep in the process. Gently, they maneuvered the babies closer together and curled themselves protectively around them. She looked into Sev’s dark eyes before drifting off into a light slumber, content with her life at the moment and not caring a bit that she’d be awakened again in an hour or two. It was worth it.

** == ^ == ** ** == ^ === **

Late September

The early morning sun shone brightly outside. Gathering her cloak around her, Arabella walked briskly across the courtyard and over to the tower she’d had begun to think of as “Remus’ tower.” Relief washed over her when she tried the door and it opened easily for her; it meant that Sirius had enough time to help Remus to bed and come back and release the protective spells he had placed to keep both of them secure inside the tower during the full moon. Moving inside quickly, she shut the door softly behind her and hung her cloak on the rack just inside the door. Moving over to the fireplace, she added a few logs and stoked the fire until it blazed and warmth began to spread throughout the room.

Quietly, she began to ascend the stairs to the second level, where she hoped to find her brother and Remus tucked warmly into their respective beds. The first door on her left was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open, wincing at the softly creaking hinges. She chuckled softly at the sight of her half-dressed brother, draped halfway across the large bed, one leg hanging over the side. Careful not to wake him, she moved him fully onto the bed and pulled the covers over him. Not able to resist, she tucked him in much as she would a child and kissed his forehead. Glancing at the fireplace, she verified it would last long enough to keep the early morning chill from the room before she slipped out the door.

Crossing the hall, she opened the last door on the right and peeked inside. As she suspected, Remus was lying in the center of his bed, the covers drawn carefully around him. It amazed her sometimes, the gentleness her brother would show to those he loved ­ like herself, Harry and Remus. Slipping quietly into the room, she walked up to Remus’ bed and gently brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. She felt the healing connection snap into place and his pain and physical discomfort filter into her mind. Phantom pains spread throughout her body ­ stiffness in the neck and major joints, the piercing pain in the face, hands and feet as the multiple bones and tissues healed themselves, the overall aching soreness of his muscles. She could feel the emotional repercussions, as well - the grief and despair that always accompanied the transformations. She was profoundly grateful, however, for the small bit of hope and the peace of mind she felt in him, as well. She knew it was a direct result of the Wolfsbane Potion.

Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the bed. She moved slowly, not wanting to disturb Remus’ sleep or cause him any additional discomfort. She held her hands over his face, close enough to feel the warmth emanating off him, but not actually touching him. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the mental image her senses fed her, looked for the pain triggers, the disruption in energy patterns, all the causes and relating symptoms and then one by one eased the pains and helped advance the healing processes. She muttered spells softly, easing muscle tension in his jaw and calmed the nerve endings that triggered the pain sensation.

Gradually, her hands moved down the side of his body, from his neck, through his shoulder, elbow and hand. As she worked, she noted the degree of damage done to his joints over the years and the lack of proper nutrition that was evident, the improvements from over his condition the same time last month and filed it away for later consideration. Once she completed repairing the initial damage to his chest, she rose from the bed and started working from the feet up. As she reached his upper thigh, she noticed his blood pressure increase and glanced up at Remus, smiling wryly. Stepping back, she summoned a chair from the corner and sat down beside the bed.

“Morning, Remi,” She said, “How are you feeling?”

“My left side feels about normal for the morning after the third moon,” he said, “in comparison, my right side feels like heaven.”

While his voice was steady, she could see he was a bit self-conscious due about being in such close proximity to her in his current state of undress, regardless of the blankets that protected his modesty. Deciding that the best way past the discomfort was to face it head on, she rose from her seat, walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed onto his bed. Taking his left hand in hers, she felt her body instinctively begin to heal him. She chuckled softly when he sighed and visibly started to relax only to flush in embarrassment.

“ Remi! It’s just me!” she laughed, swatting at him gently.

“So, how are the twins?” Remi asked.

Shifting position, she scooted up next to him so that her back was against the headboard. “Rollover, so I can get to your back and I will tell you all about their antics over the last four days.”

Remi smiled and did as she asked. As she found and eased the tense and injured muscles along his spine, she told him about Hermione’s insistence on Severus’ attention, Harry’s love of the “flying game.” They talked for an hour ­ about the twins and about Sirius, as she slowly healed his body and he began to give into exhaustion.

“So what about you and Severus?” he asked tiredly, yawning before continuing. “You have talked about everything else, including what a good father he is, but not about the two of you. Things are alright?”

“Fine Remus,” she said, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “I won’t say it hasn’t been difficult or been odd at moments. It took us both a while to really start talking again, I mean really communicating. I never thought I would be grateful for the lack of sleep, but it was much easier to open up now that we have the babies, especially during feedings. Maybe when they are a bit bigger, you’ll get to see how he is with them. Its amazing,” she said.

Looking over his shoulder, she could see his eyes had drifted closed. Smiling, she leaned over and kissed his cheek, “Sleep well, Remi.” She climbed off the bed slowly and covered him with an extra blanket before walking from the room. She checked the fire one more time on the way out of the tower before grabbing her cloak on her way out. She quickly crossed the courtyard and entered the keep to be greeted by sounds of giggling infants and the soft, smooth voice of her husband. With as much stealth as she possessed, she crept toward the door into the dinning room. Severus was sitting at his usual seat at the head of the table, an infant prompt in a highchair on either side of him. He was taking turns feeding each of them, making spoons fly through the air and into eager, waiting mouths. A feeling of rightness settled over her as she leaned against the doorframe. For now, at least, her life was good.

Mid-October

The temperature outside the stone walls of the old keep had taken another plunge over the past few days. The brisk air did nothing however to curb the curious natures of the two children that crawled and toddle about the garden area of the inner courtyard. At the moment, Hermione seemed fascinated by the fallen leaves and had seated herself in the midst of them. With a flick of his wand, Remus sent several leaves dancing around her head, eliciting a gleeful squeal from the baby girl.

Hermione’s dark brown eyes sparkled as reached for the leaves and chattered happily to herself. It amazed him to see the depth of color in her eyes as he could still easily picture the lighter, caramel color they had once been. He had expected them to return to that color with the de-aging but they hadn’t, leading the adults to speculate that her healing skills had not been de-activated by the de-aging. That in and of itself was a double-edge sword, but like Bella, he was determined to look to the advantages and leave the worrying to others – as long as he was able to stay distant from the baby just before, during and just after the full moons.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sirius in his dog form stalking playfully toward Hermione. Harry was imitating him as he crawled beside the large, shaggy, black dog. Remus watched, amused as Hermione, oblivious to the happenings behind her, slowly pushed and pulled herself into a standing position. Sirius crept up behind her and gently tapped her in the back with his nose. Hermione tottered forward, startled, her near-black eyes going round as she turned and toppled over onto her diaper-padded bottom. Immediately her face scrunched up and her eyes narrowed as she imitated one of her adoptive father’s best-known expressions – the irritated sneer. Remus couldn’t help it, he laughed. The noise earned him a curious expression from Harry, who had seated himself next to Sirius.

Sirius responded by tugging the dark green hat from Hermione’s head revealing a mass of curly black hair. Before Sirius got too far, however, Hermione’s quick little hands grabbed hold of his ear and tugged at him hard. With a excited giggle, the little girl latched onto the fur on either side of his face and hugged the large dog tightly. Seeing a great opportunity, Remus snuck up to Harry and whispered to the boy, “Get Siri’s tail,” as he gestured toward Sirius’ tail. Remus helped Harry to stand, encouraging him softly as he walked forward and reached out for the wildly wagging appendage. Remus stayed close to Harry, ready to grab him up should Sirius actually be surprised by the small boy joining the game. Instead of the tail, however, Harry grabbed hold of the black dogs hind quarters. Sirius immediately dropped to his side, “surrendering” to the toddlers who tackled him excitedly.

Remus couldn’t help but laugh loudly as the two young children wrestled happily with Sirius in his dog form, remembering the person Sirius had been before Azkaban. He was starting to see the signs that his friend was gradually letting go of the darkness that clouded his mind. Daily, he seemed to look healthier. Nothing quite so drastic as the produced by the weeks they had spent with Bella in the early summer, but if you looked you could see it. Sirius’ eyes weren’t as haunted as before and on rare occasions, you might not see the lingering effects at all.

The brief reprieve from the problems going on outside the keeps walls had been good for Remus, as well. He personally, felt far better physically and mentally now than he did two and a half months ago when they arrived. He knew he looked better, too. Not as haggard or thin as before. Even Severus seemed to look better - younger – than he had in years, although that just might be that he was happier than he had been in years.

The sound of Harry shrieking in laughter echoed through the courtyard and chased away all of Remus’ musings, leaving only delight at the simple joy of the young boy. That particular laugh flooded Remus with the happiness of days past. Looking down on the boy, seeing his true face – not a replica of James – seeing him smile, his green eyes flashing with merriment, like everything in the world was as it should be filled his heart. Not even the phantoms of long lost friends tinged the wonder of hearing that laugh.

A sharp ‘pop’ filled the air followed by a chorus of excited squeals as Sirius’ returned to his human form and grabbed up the twins and began spinning them around. Pulling out is wand, Remus carefully aimed at Hermione as she spun past and whispered, “Windgardium Leviousa.” Quickly, he did the same with Harry and soon both children were floating around in the air, weightless. At first, Hermione’s eyes grew wide and Remus was sure she would scream in fright. Until, that is, Harry laughed. Remus watched, moving under her, as she took in her surroundings and watched her brother flail happily in mid-air.

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus watched as Sirius positioned himself under Harry – just in time. The spell wore off and both Harry and Hermione plunged toward the waiting arms of their “uncles.” Harry laughed excitedly through the whole experience; Hermione, however, sat quietly in Remus’ arms for several seconds, her face frozen in shock. He waited for her to start to cry or even shift closer to him within the safety of his arms. What he didn’t expect was the wide smile that spread across her face or for her to hold her hands up toward the sky. Remus was so intent on Hermione’s reactions, that he nearly missed the words tumbling from Harry’s mouth.

“ MummmmMummmmMummmm.”

Turning toward the house, he saw Arabella standing just inside the solarium windows, smiling out as she watched them. Glancing back to Sirius, he said, “I think it’s time for these two terrors to have their lunch.”

“ I think your right, “ Sirius replied. Turning to Harry, he asked, “Shall we race them to lunch, little man?”

Harry laughed and Sirius, in a playful and exaggerated way, “ran” toward the keep. Hermione giggled at the sight and Remus smiled, shaking his head slightly, as he walked toward the welcoming warmth of the old stone building.

= = = = = = = = = = =

(18 – 24 months)

Late November

For just a moment, Remus leaned back in his chair listened to the crackling of the fire. Closing his eyes, he rolled his head to the side and forward, stretching out muscles that were tense enough to draw his shoulders to his ears. He, like Sirius, Bella and Severus, had spent the past several hours like he had spent many previous nights in the past few months - hunched over old books, texts and scrolls looking for clues that might have been missed. The studied ancient texts from the Snape family library, well as, several scrolls from past Merlins and Ladies of Avalon that Dumbledore had retrieved from the Avalon vault when he had gone for the Veil of Time. They studied anything they could find that might reference that specific time period. They had learned quite a bit about the time period but not much about the mysterious weapon that had disappeared into obscurity.

The only bit of evidence they had found that directly related to the weapon had been in the trunk Dumbledore had brought from the vault. The scroll, once deciphered and translated had explained the actual purpose of the weapon - to strip the subject of all magical power and at the same time, visit upon that person a measure of the cruelty they had bestowed on others. The last part was something new and they still hadn't quite learned what "a measure" meant; there was no quantitative information regarding it. While the scroll did explain why they chose to create the weapon, about it being stolen and used against one of their own in revenge and conseqently hidden away. The scroll didn't give any indication on where it was hidden or even how to find the first clue.

Remus opened his eyes at a soft bump against his leg and looked down to see Harry, smiling up at him around the straw of his spelled-to-be-spillproof cup. Reaching out, he ruffled the boy's black hair, his fingers brushing lightly over the place he knew Harry's scar was, even if it was not visible. "Hello, Darrius. Did you sneak away from your mother, again?"

Harry smiled and reached out to tug on Remus' robe, "Remi open." Remus looked down at the boy curiously. Harry simply pulled at his robe again before toddling over toward the old chest that sat a few feet away. Pointing at the trunk, Harry said, more adamantly, "Open!"

Rising from his chair, Remus walked over and tried to steer the Harry away but the toddler resisted. Not wanting to upset the boy, Remus allowed him to explore the box. Leaning against a nearby table, he watched as a content Harry dropped down on the floor, put his cup down and chattered excitedly as he examined the trim around the base of the trunk. There was something odd in the scrutiny Harry was paying to the chest, but his weary mind felt like it was grasping at the empty air. He just couldn't understand what his instincts told him he should be right in front of him.

A sudden squeal of fright startled him and before he even processed what had happened, he had swopped Harry into his arms protectively.

" What happened?" Bella called as she raced into the room, check first to make sure Harry was fine before anything else. Sirius followed her, Hermione clinging to him.

With wonder, Remus looked down at the trunk at his feet. From the side, a slim drawer had slid out from the base of the trunk, no thicker than the width of the trim. He kneeled down, careful to balance Harry against his side. He almost wanted to laugh. Inside the drawer were several parchments encoded like the scrolls they had found early. Unlike the scrolls, the parchments were protected by a charm that cast a slight blue glow over the drawer; a charm obviously powered by the Holly wand that rested atop the parchments. Though he couldn't read the text, Remus knew immediately that these were the papers for which they had been searching.

It wasn't that the papers were hidden. It was the wand. The wand of Druids. Hesitantly, Remus reached out and lifted the wand, awed at the legendary sight of the snake and stag engraving that circled the handle. There were a few stories about the wand, though it was hard to tell if any where true; it vanished nearly a thousand years ago.

" Is that the wand of the Druids?"

Severus' smooth, surprised voice caught him off guard. Rising slowly, he turned to face Severus, as well as Sirius and Bella. Harry immediately reached out towards his father, who automatically took the boy into his arms.

" I open, Papa," Harry said happily.

" Yes, Darrius, I see that," Severus replied, brushing his hand over his son's head and briefly kissing his brow.

Crouching down again, Remus grabbed Harry's cup and passed it up to Severus before carefully lifting the parchments from the drawer. Walking over to the large table in the middle of the room, he spread out the sheets of parchment. Bella moved to stand beside him as he studied the ancient texts. Minutes later Sirius joined them. Glancing up, Remus couldn't help but smile. Severus was seated on a sofa, Harry and Hermione cuddled up on either side of him sucking on their straws. Both children watched, captivated, as the magical storybook came to life before their eyes and dragons swooped around their heads.

Glancing over at Bella, he saw that she too was captivated by the sight. She turned to look at him and he saw the happiness that shined in her eyes. He smiled back at her before turning his attention back to the documents on the table, thankful that they might just be getting somewhere.

December 25

(nearly three years old)

It was just after six am when Remus gave up trying to sleep. He hadn’t looked forward so eagerly to a day in longer than he wanted to remember. He spent most of the previous evening helping wrap or put together the mass of presents that littered the floor of the keep’s library or where currently hidden in the solarium, just waiting for two sets of small but enthusiastic hands to rip into them. Throwing off his covers, he climbed out of bed, lazily stretching his aching muscles and headed into his bathroom. He smiled softly when he saw the red flannel leisurewear, a matching bathrobe and slippers and ideally wondered when Bella had found the time to have them washed and left them for him. Lifting the shirt from the pile, he held it against his cheek to feel the softness and breathe in the clean, warm scent. Setting it back on the counter, he quickly showered and dried himself. Once dressed in his outfit, he wrapped a warmed cloak over his robe, placed a weather-shielding charm on his slippers and dashed toward the still dark keep. Quietly, he crept through the house toward the kitchen. As he pushed the door open he found the place a bustle of activity.

“ Sirius, what are you doing?’

Sirius spun around and three house-elves froze mid-action. “Merlin, Mooney! Don’t sneak up on a person!”

“ Sorry, Padfoot, but just what is it you are doing? You know Bella is going to be upset if you mess up all her well-laid holiday plans.” Remus said, noting

immediately what Sirius was wearing – black and red flannel leisurewear-pajama like outfit and bathrobe much like his own.

“ Actually, I am trying to make sure Bell gets her perfect Christmas. When we were kids, Gran Grainne used to help us make Christmas muffins and tea and we would surprise Mum and Dad in bed. I just wanted to keep the tradition alive."

Remus couldn’t help but smile, “So, basically, you are down here making a mess and getting in the house-elves way?”

Sirius smirked at his friend, “Basically.”

Before he could say more, a soft chiming sound filled the kitchen.

“ Oh! Oh!” Winky cried excitedly as she scurried about the work area, “The young master and mistress must be awake. Those chimes warn Winky when they leave their rooms. Have to go, too much to do!”

“ It’s alright, Winky,” Sirius said as he grabbed Remus’ arm, “we’ll take care of Darrius and Livia.” Sirius pulled Remus from the kitchen and half-way up the stairs before they caught sight of a cautious Harry peaking around the corner, as if he were checking to see if the coast was clear. His face fell into a slight pouting expression when he caught sight of them coming up the stairs.

“ Come here munchkins," Sirius exclaimed, reaching out to lift each child from the floor, “We have serious Christmas business to take care of!”

“ Mama and Papa say we can't open pwesents,” Hermione said far to seriously for a child her age.

Remus laughed, “No, Livi, not presents. At least, not yet. Your Uncle Paddy just thought you might like to make your Mama and Papa a special present.”

“ Like wast time? Cause Papa wou’nt let you eat wif us. Mama was really upset.”

Remus laughed as he followed behind Sirius and the twins as they made their way to the kitchen. He remembered the incident quite well. Sirius had used Darrius to deliver a prank that left Severus literally glowing in the dark. Needless to say, Severus wasn’t amused.

As soon as they arrived in the kitchens, Sirius explained to the twins what he wanted to do and they immediately warmed to the idea. The next hour was spent helping the two three year-olds gather, mix and bake the necessary ingredients into warm ginger Christmas muffins with special Christmas frosting. The muffins were ready by half past eight; while Sirius assisted the twins in getting up the stairs, he stayed safely in the kitchen where an aggitated Severus was less likely to target him.

A few minutes later, a smiling Sirius returned.

It wasn't much longer before a bleary-eyed Bella shuffled into the kitchen. Smiling, she kissed them both on the head and thanked them for the making the morning special for her before dragging them into the study. Two hours later, Remus was sitting amid a vast amounts of crumbled, festivly colored paper and a pile of unwrapped gifts listening to the sound of giggling children. Leaning back into his chair, he watched, amused, as Harry and Hermione raced around the room chasing after their new stuffed dragons that Sirius has spelled to fly about the room. He could hear Hermione call "Dray, Dray" as she jumped up to catch the fluff white plush toy – it was her name for the Dragon in her favorite story, Marina and the Dragon.

Peripherally, Remus could see Severus and Arabella sitting together, their arms wrapped round each other. They were watching the children play, completely capitvated. He could see the soft smiles on both their faces and smiled to himself. With an exageratted huff, Sirius dropped down into a chair opposite of him, appearing exhausted, but simple happiness radiated off of him. Smiling, he closed his eyes nd leanged back in the comfortable chair, letting the warmth of the fire and the company lull him. He could hear Severus begin to read Marina and the Dragon; a book he had memorized about the 50,000th time he had read it to Harry and Hermione. When his eyes flickered open again, he realized the story was nearing the end. With a fleeting glance, he saw Harry curled up on one side of Severus, fast asleep. Bella was curled on Severus' other side, Hermione in her lap – both were sound a sleep. Somewhere off to the side, he could hear Sirius' even breathing.

With a sigh, Remus allowed the heaviness to pull his eyelids closed again. Memories of the morning began to replay in his mind. For the first time in a very long time, his memories were better than his dreams.

Early March (Harry and Hermione have re-grown to approximate 5-6 years old)

The cold, crisp night air cleared the fog from his mind as he strolled around the courtyard. He stretched his arms up and out to the sides, forward and backward, trying to work out the tension in his back, neck and shoulders. Tension that was a direct result of spending hour after hour hunched over ancient parchments. It had taken them months to decrypt the damn things. Luckily, it hadn't taken nearly as long to translate them into modern English. Not that it helped any.

The majority of the documents were actually detailed schematics that outlined the complex calculations and intricate spells and potions that were the foundation of the weapon. The sheer knowledge and skill it took to create and execute such a system boggled his mind. It was hard enough just to look at it for long periods of time, much less try and comprehend it. Which is why he was working on figuring out the end of the message that accompanied the plans.

That message revealed that the weapon itself existed in seven parts. Seven stones, to be exact, that could be used singularly by seven individuals or in groups and pairs by a fewer number. The stones could also be used in smaller groups; the four stones created by the founders had been used to set the original wards around Hogwarts' castle. The three that belong to Avalon had been used to add the final barriers that protected magical Avalon from the non-magical world.

And yet, despite all they had learned, they were still nowhere. So far, he hadn't found a single clue to where the pieces were hidden, yet he knew it was there – somewhere. Frustration was an understatement, which was why he was outside in the middle of a frigid night, freezing his ears off.

What he wouldn't do for a little distraction tonight; like the night a week ago when Harry and Hermione wandered outside of the castle walls in the middle of the night. He could honestly say he had never been so scared in his life and was thankful they were found after a short search. The rest of the night, however, had been rather amusing. While searching the island, he and Remus had discovered a group of Muggle teens camped out on the shore. He had taken the form of Padfoot and snuck close to the emcamped group huddled around a large campfire; he learned it was all some sort of a dare, to spend the night on the dark island – the devil's island. Figuring they were harmless enough to let Severus worry about them later, he had returned with Remus to the keep. Sirius snickered as he remembered the pranks Severus pulled on the Muggle teenagers when he learned of their presense; bonfires going out as soon as they were lit; random trees moving and shaking their branches when no wind blew. And then, of course, there was the "ghostly knight" that would appear and disappear. He never would have guessedthe Severus had it in him, even if it was for practical purposes. Sirius doubted those teens would come anywhere near the island again - ever. Unfortunately for Sirius, the strengthened wards they put up after the teens had left seemed to be doing an admirable job of keeping other thrillseekers away.

" Siri?" Sirus turned around to find his sister standing behind him, her silver cloak seemed to cast an ethereal glow around her in the moonlight. "What are you doing out here?"

" Just trying to clear my mind, Bell. I thought that maybe I could find some perspective and figure this damn puzzle out," he muttered.

" Well, you could always do what Gran Grainne did."

" And that was?" he asked, the irritation he felt early returning and clearly evident in his tone. He cringed inwardly at the sound, knowing it wasn't fair to direct it at her when he was frustrated with himself – not her. She stepped out infront of him and faced him down. The expression on her face was one that, until recently, had been reserved only for him. It wasn't his favorite expression either. The narrowing of her eyes, the raising of her brow and the firm, pursed set of her lips expressed her displeasure with him. The phantom of hurt that drifted into her clear eyes showed him he had hurt her which, in turn, dredged up a wealth of guilt. He could also she the clock ticking behind her eyes; the one that let him know exactly how much time he had to apologize and make things right before retribution was exacted. He wasn't quite sure how she managed to express so much to him with just one look. Even his mother, who was very good at reproachful looks, could never make him feel as guilty as Bella.

With a sigh, he muttered his apology before looking her in the eye again. He tried to smile slightly and giver her his most repentant look. Her only response was a raised eyebrow. A memory flashed before his eyes; about seven hours earlier he and Bella caught Harry trying to sneak some cookies out of the kitchen. Harry had looked up at Bella with the most innocent look and a pleading smile. He had been rebuked by the the same expression Bella wore now. With several decades less of experience, Harry had crumbled under the look and turned back to the kitchen, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. He tried to keep a smile from spreading across his face. "Poor Darrius," he said. "He's never going to be able to keep anything from you. Merlin help him if Livia masters that look. He'll never have a moments peace."

Bella titled her head slightly to the side as if considering what he said, her expression softenly slightly. With a hushed whisper, she summoned his cloak and gloves.

Wrapping them around him, she cast a warming charm on the cloak while he put on his gloves.

" Thanks, Bell," Sirius said, "You're a good mother."

She play slapped his arm and rolled her eyes before saying, "Thanks, Siri. Now, about your problem. Why don't your start by going over what you do know - from the beginning."

He just looked at her and he knew all his irritation and doubt at the usefullness of her suggestion was visible on his face. Arabella just smiled at him and held out her hand to him. With resignation, he accepted her hand and, for a moment, he wished that their hands had been bare; he could use some of her unique encouragement and reassurance. With a gentle tug, she pullled him toward the main gates which drifted open for them slowly. They walked to the shore in silence through the dark woods that surrounded the keep's walls. When they reached their destination, Arabella dropped her hold on his hand and wandered into the center of the sandy area. With a few flicks of her wand, she summoned wood from the forest and set a bonfire ablaze. A few more spells hid the site from onlookers. And still, a few more spells, enlarged cushions blankets and a container of hot chocolate. Sirius watched her, amused by the sight before turning his gaze out across the glittering black waters toward the main land.

Bella's smooth, rich voice harmonized with the calming sounds coming in from the sea that night. "From Lily's letter to me and the journal that Harry found and handcopied for us that the Schism War we learn about in school is a highly sanitized version. We know that a dark Wizard claiming to the the last heir of King Arthur and the Lady Morgaine, through their son Mordred, was actual instigator of the war – not the general religious upheaval of the times. This Dark Lord, whose name was stricken from all Britian, banished Christianity from the shores, returning Britian to the old religions."

She paused for a minute, aiming toward the fire with her wand to spur on the flames. "However, by that time, just over a thousand years ago, the fledgling Wizarding society realized that the ability to use magic wasn't tied to a specific religion, but a talent in its own right. As a result, the community was split into several factions – those who agreed with the Dark Lord, those who wanted to separate from the non-magical world, but not return to a religious-ruled society and those who simply wanted to maintain the status quo. Eventually, the second group was joined by members of the first who could not abide by some of the Dark Lords actions, and by members of the third who realized a separation was inevitable. The weapon was created by seven key members of each group and used to destroy the Dark Lord. They then set about creating a governing body for the new Wizarding World, which included the first incarnation of the current Ministry of Magic and the Council of Avalon. Four of the original seven leaders went to Scotland – into the highlands – to build a school – Hogwarts. The other three, hid Avalon and then formed an new gathering center or rather, refounded an ancient community – the Forest House. It was during this time that minons of the Dark Lord stole the stones from their keepers. Five of those stones were turned them over to the Dark Lords Leiutenant who used them on Serena Slytherin – granddaughter of Gryffindor and the Lady of the Lake and wife of Slytherin's eldest son. The five stones worked in a malformed manner, binding the magic of Serena and her off-spring for a thousand years; not stripping it as was intended. In the end, Serena took her daughter and disappeared. In the journal, there was no mention of what became of the weapon – only that it was hidden."

He could feel her eyes on him as her voice trailed off, leaving only the sound of the water breaking against the shore and the crackling of burning wood to fill the night with sound.

Turning around, he walked to the fire and dropped down on some cushions obviously meant for him and let his body drink in the warmth of the fire before beginning to speak. "In November," he said off in a tired voice, "we found the hidden parchments that finally gave us some detailed information on the weapon. We learned it is actually seven power stones, or possibly gems or crystals – all three terms were used. The seven stones can be used together or can be divided up into a set of four stones and a a set of three stones. We know that when all seven stones are used together, they can be weilded by seven individuals or by fewer individuals - as long as all seven are used together. When used in unintended groups – like the five stones used against Serena Slytherin - that the effects are unpredictable and like most malformed magicks, the damage is virtually irreversible." Sirius took a breath, "As you mentioned, we know that five stones were reclaimed and hidden by their creators to prevent further misuse; each stone's creator kept their protections completely secret, even from each other – so basically, we are starting from zero with each hidden stone. We no idea what became of the two lost ones. "

Sirius stopped and took a breath before continuing, "The schema – which, by the way, I'm still amazed decrypted from three parchments into the longest and most boring 250 pages I have ever read - apparently only deals with one stone - the focus stone - not all seven like we originally thought. I understand now why it took several years to create the stones. Even with all the detailed notes, it would probably take at least two years to recreate the stone referenced in the materials we found. To begin with, the stone they used already had powers associated with it. It was originally created by Taliesin – the Merlin and had been used in his staff. All I can find on it is the legend that says it was some sort of a bloodstone. The stone was then put through a process that included power infusion and bonding spells. Severus said the infusion potion alone would take six months to properly brew and the stone would have to soak in it for another six months."

Sirius picked up a stone and tossed it into the blaze in a swift harsh motion. He took a deep breath and expelled it sharply before continuing, "Even if we decided to try and recreate the damned things, there is no guarantee it would be powerful enough to do what we need it to do. We'd have to replace the bloodstone and as powerful as Dumbledore is, he still couldn't match Merlin and we certainly don't know how to create a bloodstone. "

Arabella reached over and squeezed his hand, "I don't know, Siri. From what I have learned in the past few months, I believe Albus is as powerful as Taliesin, or very close to it. I think the difference lies in their magical training and in the view and use of magic - now and then. Magic was uncommon in Merlin's time, not like it is now. Those who were gifted with Magic were taken and trained by the orders - the Priestess and the Druids. Magic wasn't used for trivial things like cleaning or cooking. It was power; used to guide, inspire, teach and intimidate." She paused for a moment. Sirius took the opportunity to look over at her, examine her face. He could see how her mind working behind her eyes as the firelight flashed across her pale skin, giving it a warm glow. Finally, she sighed in resignation, "You're right about the bloodstone, though. Taliesin's was created using the old Magicks, Gran Graine taught me some and just told me about others. All I know for sure is that involved the Chalice of the Goddess and the sacred well. I have never the seen the Chalice, but I was told it's on Avalon. The problem being that the portal can't be opened until summer of 96 - which is about a year and a half away."

" We need to find that stone." Sirius said, sounding a bit desperate.

" You're sure there is no mention of the hiding place? No riddle or hint to figure out?"

" No," he replied, his annoyance and frustration returning. He rose from his seat and began to pace, the soles of his boots crunching the damp sand beneath his feet.

" Nothing." Sirius paused, stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes staring far beyond the distant shoreline, "…unless…. " Spinning around, he dashed over to her, dropping down into a crouch before her and looked her straight in the eye. "Darrius opened the hidden drawer, he could see a light – a glow – that we couldn't." He felt the smile curl of his lips as the mental jigsaw puzzle pieces fell into place. Harry! The answer had to be with Harry. Only he had been able to detect the compartment. Maybe their final clue was hidden in a similar manner. "That's got to be it, Bell! If there is a clue, its hidden somewhere, but I bet Darrius can see it, like he saw the drawer. "

He paused again, allowing her to mull over the information. He waited until he saw the small smile and a hint of relief grace her features as understanding grew in her eyes. "You think its location is hidden on those parchments, don't you. That Darrius is the only one who can see it." She said before biting her lip, her mind working furiously behind her crystalline pale eyes.

" Any chance you'd let me wake Darrius up?" he asked.

Immediately, Bella's eyebrows shoot up and she was giving him "that look" again. After a quick glance at her pocket watch, she said, "I don't think we'll need to wake him. He should be up in about three hours anyway and that should be just enough time to get some supplies ready." Sirius could feel his eyebrows raising and coming together as his forehead scrunched up. "Really, Siri. He's five; do you actually think he can read Latin or old Welsh, much less runes? And that’s the best-case scenario - most of what we've found so far has been encrypted."

He frowned. She was right. Then he smiled; in a little over three hours, they might just be getting somewhere.5 hours later.

" Uncle Paddy, I don't want to do this anymore. It's boring. Can't I go work this Mama and Livi? Or Papa? Please?"

Sirius sighed and put down his pen. He counted to ten mentally before replying. "No, Darrius. We've been over this. Your mother and Livia are working on Healing Arts. We need you to copy the special message."

" Can't you do it, with a spell or something." Harry pouted, "and why does Uncle Remi get to help Mama and Livi if I can't?"

Sirius took a deep breath and counted to ten again. He knew Harry was bored; he had the attention span of a typical five year old at the moment and copying weird looking pictures for hours had to be the last thing the kid wanted to do. Sirius wanted to be understanding and help the boy, but if Harry asked one more time if he could stop, Sirius was going to throw something. Ten times was more than enough in the past hour and a half. Putting his pen down, he gave up on his own reviewing and decided to try another tactic.

" Okay Darrius, why don't we try something different?" Sirius said coming over to the table where Harry sat. He gathered the strewn papers into neat piles before summoning a fresh, clean quill from the desk across the room.

" Can't we try copying it again?" Darrius pleaded, "Maybe it will copy for me? I could do the spell."

" Darrius, you don't know how to do the spell." Sirius said in as patient a voice as he could muster.

" Can't you teach me? Please, Uncle Paddy?"

Sirius felt himself giving in as soon as those big green eyes looked up at him so earnestly. "Okay, okay. We will try, but only for a little while and then we have to try my method. This is very important, Darrius."

" I know," the boy exclaimed, nearly jumping around in his seat with excitement.

Taking a quill from the table, Sirius transfigured it into something resembling a wand. "Okay, Darrius, I want you to watch how I move my wand and imitate it?"

Harry nodded eagerly and then watched intently how Sirius moved his wand - touching the parchment with the hidden text, lifting the wand in a sweeping motion and flicking it toward the plain parchment. "Think you can do that, Darrius?"

Harry simply nodded and imitated the motion fairly accurately, though with little finesse. After having Darrius repeat the necessary spell and practice them combined, Sirius handed his wand to Darrius. Taking a quill, he wrote the words -- Secret Information -- on a blank parchment and set it next to a clean sheet. "Okay, Darrius. I want you to concentrate on the words and imagine them appearing on the clean parchment."

Sirius watched as Darrius eyes narrowed as he focused intently on the writing. Tapping the paper, he clearly said and then flicked the wand exactly as he was shown.

If it was in the library and made of glass, it shattered.

Darrius stared around the room, wide-eyed and fearful. "I'm sorry. I did it right, I promise. I didn't mean to break things. I swear, Uncle. Please believe me."

" It's alright, Darrius," Sirius said, taking the wand back and quickly repairing the damage.

" Darrius!"

Sirius and Harry both cringed at the sharp sound of Severus' cold voice and slowly turned around to face him.

" Sorry, Papa. I didn't…" Harry's voice trailed off to a whisper as he stared down at his feet. The look on Severus' face was one of fury and it reminded Sirius strongly of that night in the shrieking shack when he had first met Harry. A rush of anger washed through Sirius, he couldn't believe Severus would act like such a git. Rising from his chair, Sirius stood protectively in front of Harry. Severus glared at him, his lips twisting into a sneer.

" Just what do you think you are doing, Black?" Severus hissed.

" It wasn't his fault. I gave him my wand and taught him the spell. We wanted to see if Darrius could copy the text since he was the only one who saw it."

" Oh really. We, is it." Severus said as he stepped forward and pulled Harry's chair from behind Sirius. Darrius slouched down into his chair, keeping with his head bowed, obviously not wanting to meet his father's steely gaze.

" Darrius?" Severus asked sternly.

" Yes sir?" Darrius responded.

Sirius fingers itched to level his wand at the greasy bastard; he couldn't stand to see the way he treated Harry. Fathers were supposed to love their children, not torture them. As much as he hated to do it, Sirius watched quietly - grudgingly – as Severus stepped closer still to Harry.

" Darrius?" Severus crouched down so that he was eye level with his son as he asked again. This time, Severus' voice was noticeably gentler. In that moment, Sirius' anger began to die.

" I'm sorry, sir. I thought," Harry paused, his voice sounded so small and full of regret.

" Thought what?" Severus asked, his voice still gentle. When Harry raised his eyes, Sirius was sure he saw Severus' gaze falter.

" Thought that I could copy the text," Harry took a breath and then continued, mumbling, "even though you told me it wouldn't work because of the special encwypson spells."

Sirius was suddenly caught between wanting to smile at Harry's mispronunciation of encryption and wanting to scold the boy for not being honest with him. While he was at it, he wanted to knock himself up the side of the head for not thinking to ask if the subject had already been discussed. His opinion of Severus not only softening a bit, it rose as well. He had to admit that he had not witnessed a great deal of interaction between Severus and the children; it was easier and more pleasant for all to avoid him whenever possible. Watching their interaction now, however, Sirius was forced to acknowledge that Harry didn't seem afraid. He seemed like he was ashamed. He watched as Harry hopped off the chair and moved closer his father, closing the distance between them.

" I'm sorry, Papa. I shouldn't have disobeyed you," he said quietly. Sirius could imagine the pleading look in the boys bright eyes – he had seen it himself just moments before. "I really thought it would work. I know it will, if you let me try with the glowy wand. Please Papa?" He closed his eyes at the pleading in his godson's voice, knowing he would not have been able to resist were he in Severus' place. The room was silent for long seconds before Harry's hopeful voice reiterated in a slightly more beseeching tone, "Please Papa?"

Sirius opened his eyes and, based on the firm look on Severus face, prepared himself to deal with a disappointed and hurt five year old. For a brief second, the old bitter, irrational hatred flashed in his chest. The git was hurting his godson, damn him! What would it hurt to just let the kid try it?

" Wait here," Severus said firmly. His tone brooked no argument and for the life of him, Sirius even flinched at the words. After Snape left the room, Sirius turned his attention back to Harry, who had slunk back into his chair. He hated seeing the boy look so dejected, especially when he hadn't done anything warranting such treatment.

" Siri, what happened?" Bella called as she came into the room, Hermione trailing beside her. Without waiting for an answer, she walked over and crouched in front of Harry, "Darrius, what happened? Are you hurt?"

" No, Mamà."

" What upset your father?"

" Bell," Sirius started to interrupt. His sister through him a glance that clearly told him to stay quiet, and he obliged her – against his own desires.

" I asked Uncle Paddy to let me try the spell. A lot of glass shattered. Uncle Paddy fixed it before Papa got here though."

" You asked your uncle if you could try a spell after your father and I told you no?"

" Yes, Ma'am." Harry replied softly.

A small hand reached out and wrapped around his. Looking down, he met the near chocolate eyes of Hermione. He smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hand seeing the uneasiness in her expression. She smiled up at him slightly and stepped closer, leaning against his leg. Releasing her hand, he gently stroked through her think black hair, finding the motion as soothing to him as it seemed to be for her.

Before Bella could ask Harry any further questions, Severus returned. Hermione immediately leaned into him a bit more, and again, Sirius realized the reaction wasn't out of fear of Severus. In this case, he suspected, instead, empathy for Harry on her behalf. Sirius watched as his brother-in-law walked over and stood beside Bella. Staring down at Harry, he held out a velvet pouch. Harry reverently took the pouch from his father's outstretched hand before turning his wide eyes up at his father questioningly.

" You may try, Darrius," Severus said quietly. "If the wand accepts you."

Carefully, Harry removed the wand from the pouch. His curiosity begged him to move forward, where he could get a better look. As Hermione stepped forward, however, he remembered the last time Harry tried a spell – just minutes ago – and pulled her back against him. The young girl looked up at him quizzically. "It is safer back a bit, Livi. Last time, Darrius shattered all the glass."

From his vantage point, Sirius watched as Harry looked anxiously at the texts. With his expression contorted with concentration, Harry pointed is wand, swished it as Sirius taught him and pronounced the spell clearly. The room was filled with a brilliant flash of light. Even after it faded, circles of light danced in his vision. Moments later, the room was filled with the excited cry of his nephew.

" It worked, Papa. Look – it worked!"

As the spots cleared, Sirius witnessed Harry throwing his arms around his father's neck as the man crouched down to sweep the boy up in a fierce hug, his pride in the boy was clearly visible, as was his joy. Severus was actually smiling.

For Sirius, the moment was bitter-sweet, as he was forced to acknowledge the one thing his avoidance of Snape had allowed him to deny. Harry had a father. Not one long dead, but one that lived, that cared and who wanted the role of father figure. And even harder still, Sirius could no longer deny that Severus did his job well. It occurred to him, then, that his Harry - the boy who looked to him as a father-figure, for approval and guidance, who hoped to one day share a home with him - was gone. This boy would never look to him first, for approval or guidance. He would never again be this boy's father figure. Harry had his real father now. More than anything, Harry deserved to have that kind of relationship – one filled with the unconditional love of a father that had both the strength and the knowledge to guide him properly. As much as it hurt to accept, Sirius knew that this was how it was always meant to be.

It was a good thing.

'And besides,' Sirius thought to himself, 'he was still the favorite uncle. Every boy needed someone to spoil him, get into trouble with him – or get him out of trouble with out dear old dad finding out.' Oh yeah, there was definitely still some mischief making potential there.

At some point during his reflections, Severus and Bella had obviously handed down Harry's punishment for his disobeying them. Quirking a half smile, Sirius watched as his godson made his way out of the room in a pouting huff, mumbling under his breath about the injustice of it all. Sirius couldn't help but think that it was a good thing not to be the one to have to hand out the punishments. It was definitely a very good thing..

August 2, 1995

Time was up. Severus had feared this day since he had stepped through the Veil of Time. He had lain awake for most of the night, curled around his wife, dreading the coming light. In the beginning, when the children were small, he had almost managed to forget he would soon have to explain himself to Voldemort and find a way to explain the existence of his family and protect them all at the same time. As the first red rays broke lit the edges of the drapes, Severus climbed quietly from the bed and gathered the robes and clothes Bella had set out for him and left the sleeping chamber. Entering the bathroom, he quickly bathed and dressed before exiting his rooms. Lucius had agreed to meet and accompany him to the Dark Lord; he would be arriving at any moment.

As he crept down the hall, he thought of how different his life had been a year ago as he crossed through the Veil. There had been no way he could imagine how important the children would become to him. He had loved his son, that was unquestioned, but he hadn't been able to conceive of how integral spending time with Harry would become to him. He couldn't imagine not having the boy in his life now; not having his son's love – or his daughter's for that matter.

And that is what Hermione had become – completely. His Livia. His daughter. If anyone had suggested to him that such a bond was possible when he had met the Gryffindor on her first day of classes – or any day there after – he would have thought them mad. It had taken a tragedy and her close proximity for him to see the similarity she bore to Bella and for him to realize he could care for her as a individual and not just a student. The thought that she could be revealed and what would happen to her and all of them if that happened had terrified him. The nightmares that resulted from these fears often propelled him into his lab during the late hours of the night.

Nightmares or no, he'd often climbed from his bed in the middle of the night to watch the children sleep. It had become a nightly ritual for him, to stand in the doorway to the nursery. His thoughts were always the same; that it was amazingly easy to love the small girl that slept in one of the two beds in the room. Her resemblance to his Bella, with her dark hair, eyes shaped like those of her adoptive mother and her uncanny ability to mimic Bella's facial expressions made her impossible for him to resist, but he couldn't deny that a large part had simply been her own doing. She was a bright, eager child who willingly and freely gave him her love; it was hard not to return it.

And then there was Harry. He had only just begun to accept him when he had been returned to infancy. The gulf between them immense and he wasn't sure they'd ever truly close it. It had been one of the reasons he agreed to de-aging, the chance to build a relationship with his son without all the mental barbed wire that blocked their path. The closer time grew to the day Harry's memories would be restored, the more he feared he would lose him again.

"Papa?"

Severus turned immediately upon hearing his son's quiet and slightly scared voice calling to him. Harry was shuffling his feet slightly and looking at him with those wide, innocent green eyes full of apprehension. His straight, blue-black hair was ruffled from sleep and hung in disarray about his head. With a gentle smile, Severus called to his son, "Come here, Darrius"

Harry ran towards him, throwing his arms about Severus' waist. "Don't go, Papa, please."

"I will not be long," Severus replied coolly, but gently as he separated himself from the boy's grasp. Kneeling down in front of him, he asked, "What is upsetting you, Darrius?"

"I don't like it when you leave," he mumbled softly. "Everyone is leaving."

Severus sighed. Remus and Sirius had left the night before and both Harry and Livia had been rather upset. Bella had to use her skills and a promise they would see them in a week to soothe them. "I promise you, I will return as soon as possible. I need you to look after your mother and sister while I am gone. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, sir." Harry replied quietly.

Severus' smiled and glanced down the hall, intending to send Harry back to his room and to bed. His eyes caught the fleeting sight of wavy black hair. Livia – Hermione. Of course, she would be awake. Softly, he called up to her, "Livia, come here."

With a slightly more timid manner than usual, she walked toward them, "Yes, Papa?"

"Care to tell me why you are skulking about?"

"I heard you leaving and didn't wish you to go, either." She replied softly.

Severus sighed. These two small children would be his undoing. "Go back to bed, both of you," he said. Kissing them both on the head, he told them both he loved them and would return soon before sending them to their beds. He watched for a few moments as they walked down the hall before rising and proceeding down the stairs. Within minutes, he was greeting Lucius in the Great Hall.

"You look well, Severus," Lucius said smoothly, "Are you prepared?"

"As much as is possible, Lucius," he replied coolly as he adjusted his cloak about his shoulders.

"And Bella and the twins? They are well," Lucius asked as he smoothed the supple dragon hide gloves he wore over his hands.

"Well, all of them," Severus paused and moved to face Lucius directly. "You may hear things today that are contradictory to what I have told you in the past. It was necessary to protect my family. You understand?" he stated, his gaze intent on Malfoy and determining how far he could depend on the man. Both men remained quiet as they examined the other until Lucius' eyes drifted toward the curving stairs. A slow slime curled Lucius' lips before he turned his gaze back to Severus. "I understand Severus and I do believe we have company." Lucius' head tilted toward the stairs and Severus turned in time to catch Harry and Hermione dashing behind the wall.

"Darrius, Livia, come down here," he called out and watched as both children slowly made their way out from their hiding place and down the stairs. As they descended, he tried to see them as if for the first time, to see them as Lucius was seeing them now. Darrius was taller than he had been at the same age in the guise of Harry Potter, but just as skinny, or perhaps lanky was a better term. His features were finer as well; his face showed signs of eventually bearing an elegant, chiseled appearance. The sharper features and slimmer face had taken away some of the innocent appearance his once rounded features had given him. His blue-black hair, though still messy, was longer and wavier than it had been before. The length he knew was a result of the rapid growth, but the texture of his hair was very different from James' and even when messy was never as uncontrollable as it had been. The resemblance between his son and himself at the same age was remarkable; yet with the different nose – Severus' mother's nose - and eye shape and color, Severus suspected he would grow to be quite handsome.

Hermione was equally the same and yet different in her appearance. Her hair was brown-black like Bella's and quite long, falling down to the middle of her back in soft waves. Her eyes were dark brown, almond shaped and slightly narrow, again like Bella's. She had full lips and sculpted bone structure, even at eleven. She was half a head shorter than Harry and equally as thin, which gave her a waif-like, almost elfin appearance.

When they reached the foot of the stairs, Severus said, "Children, I would like you to meet a friend. This is Mr. Malfoy."

"Good Morning, Mr. Malfoy," both children responded. Hermione then took a step forward, looking up at Lucius and said, "Are you my Draco's Papa?"

"Well, Severus," Lucius said in his distinct drawl, "Your children are quite good looking, though I was expecting teenagers." Turning to look down on Hermione, he said, "Yes, my dear, I am Draco's father."

"Is he here, too?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening in her excitement. He and Bella had told her about the arrangement between the families and the history behind it. In her child's innocence and imagination, she turned it into a sort of fairytale. She had developed quite a crush on Draco based on pictures and stories they had shown her. Her eagerness didn't surprise Severus, though he did find it amusing to see Lucius try to cover his surprise.

"No Livia, Draco is not here, Now, both of you, back to bed. I will see you later." Severus answered. To Lucius, he said, "I will explain about their age later. We need to be going."

Severus watched as both children nodded and reluctantly turned and made their way back up the stairs toward their rooms. A sudden sense of fear at leaving them filled him. He had no way of knowing what would happen today and couldn't help but wonder what would happen to his children should he die as a result of Voldemort's temper. How would they cope with loosing yet another parent? The urge to dash after them was strong, but he resisted. Appearances, after all, must be kept. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and looked back to see Lucius standing behind him; the look on the blonde man's face was softer, a look of understanding reflected in his icy eyes. It was a rare thing, for Lucius to lower his mask and allow you to see the human being inside. With a nod, Severus stepped away and gestured toward the doors. "Shall we?" he asked.

The mask firmly reappeared on Lucius Malfoy's face as he inclined his head in agreement and preceded Severus through the door.

"Luuuciuss tellssss me you have newssss?"

Years of practice at hiding his reactions made his body's shudder at the hissing sound of the Voldemort's voice hardly noticeable as he rose from the low bow that was required upon arriving the Dark Lord's presence. No one saw anything other than an erect and steady posture and an emotionless mask. "Yes, my lord," he replied smoothly, "I have news of my wife. I have found her."

"Really," the dark lord said as he walked down from his dais and circled Severus slowly, watching his reactions closely. "And where has she been these past years?"

"Hiding, my lord, from the Ministry. She feared their interference after your fall. She wished to protect my children." Severus said and waited for the Dark Lord's eyes narrow as he stared at him.

"Tell me, my Luciusss, " Voldemort said, his focus still on Severus as he spoke. "Did you know of this?"

"I did not know she lived, my lord, until recently – though both my wife and I hoped she did," Lucius replied smoothly. "We did not know of the children until after her return."

"Neither my wife or myself know they survived birth, my lord. Sirius … " Severus explained, forcing barely feigned disgust into his voice at the mention of his brother-in-law. "My wife's brother … was the only one present and there were serious complications. Bella was too weak and nearly died, my lord. Sirius told us they were still-borne."

"Continue," he hissed.

For a brief second, Severus hesitated, gathering all his strength, discipline and skill to present the strong, unbreakable assurance he needed to convince Voldemort of his tale. "When Sirius believed I was dead," he started, "he confessed to Arabella that he had secreted the children away. He felt Muggles would be a better influence on my children than a Death Eater." He spat the words out, lacing them with just enough resentment and bitterness to be believable. "He told her where they were hidden but before she could retrieve them, you destroyed those meddling Potters. That moron Fudge targeted her, used her as a scapegoat and blacklisted her. She feared what the ministry would do if they learned of the children; as it was, they were trying to steal the Snape and Black estates she controlled."

As he stood there, he emoted all the anger he felt or could conjure and watched the Dark Lord for any sign of reaction. The man was still, regarding him closely. Severus could feel the dark mind sliding against his consciousness, but, as yet, Voldemort was not attacking his mental walls. As unpredictable as the Dark Lord had become, he prayed that was a good sign.

"With both her brother and Lucius in Azkaban at the time, she did the only thing she could to protect herself, her children and the family interests - she made arrangements with the goblins of Gringotts to protect the estates and took the twins into hiding. She returned last year, because of an obligation of the Snape family," he said. As soon as he mentioned Bella's willing return, he felt Voldemort's interest peak.

"SShe returned, now, of her own ffrree willl? Whatt obligattiion could sshe have that wasss ssso immportantt that ssshe would return after four-teen yearssss?" Voldemort's voice was slow as it was low and chilling; that he implied a threat by his question distinctly clear. Severus maintained his ramrod straight posture, refusing to let any of the fear building in his stomach to be perceived.

"There is a contract, my lord, between the Malfoy and Snape families that goes back centuries – a marriage contract. One of the twins was a girl and thus the betrothed of Lucius' heir. She brought them back so my daughter, Livia, could fulfill the contract." Severus stopped there and glanced briefly at Lucius before continuing, "She verified ahead of time that Lucius had escaped the Ministry's clutches and was a citizen in high standing. She knew he could assister her in protecting the children from the Ministry, if necessary. She was quite surprised to discover I was alive."

Voldemort moved to stand in front of him; the red of his eyes locked Severus' into his stare unwillingly. He felt the cold thread of the serpent-man's mind trying to slide past his mental walls. For a split second he felt a terror grip him before he forced the emotion into the darkest pit of his mind. Drawing on all his training, he offered up only those memories he wished the Dark Lord to see. Images flashed before his mind's eye

… Harry and Hermione, lying side by side on the bed, kicking their legs excitedly as toys floated above them...

…A three-year-old Harry toddling after him as he gathered herbs and ingredients from the woods…

… A four-year-old Hermione sitting beside Bella, practicing her first healing lessons…

… Both children, age seven, standing on either side of him learning basic potions …

He stifled the emotions, locking them away; disassociating them within himself. Severus would let the Dark Lord feel the pride he felt in his children, but not the depth of love; he would not allow them to be tools used against him.

"Tell me, Severus," Voldemort said in a low voice. "If you did not know of them, how is it you have memories of them growing up? Crucio!"

The sound of the curse being cast barely reaching his ears before the pain ripped through him, driving his body to the ground. The crack of his left knee hitting first was barely audible over the sharp intake of Severus' breath as it slammed into the hard marble floor before he collapsed completely. His mind was rapidly consumed by the agony inflicted on his flesh. His thoughts narrowed as he fought to maintain his presence of mind while the pain danced along his nerves like flickering flames.

Slowly, the pain began to recede; it became easier to breath as awareness of the world seem to rush at him. The first thing he heard was the unforgivable being cast again. He braced himself, but the pain never came. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucius drop to his knee and topple forward, curling into a fetal position as fought not to cry out. His face was twisting in agony, yet quiet as only one accustomed to such torture could manage.

Pulling himself up, he fought for breath enough to speak through the lingering pain. "They were de-aged, my lord, so that I could develop a stronger bond with them. They had adopted much of Bella's bitterness toward the Ministry and …" He barely had time to take a breath before his nerves flared in pain again and knees buckled, send him sprawling gracelessly to the ground. His mind barely registered the Dark Lord's harshly whispered words.

"You've kept this from me, my Death Eater. You should have told me when you first returned, offered your children into my service."

Severus tried to speak evenly, "Bella has already sworn them to Avalon, my lord. They are bound to that oath until their 18th birthday."

Again the searing pain hit him, forcing the air from his lungs and past his clenched teeth. Then just as suddenly it was over.

"Perhaps there are advantages to allowing they to continue their education in the old ways. However, I expect your son to swear himself to me when the time comes, Severus. Your daughter I will leave to her mother, so long as she chooses her side in this war wisely." Turning to Lucius, he said, "You know what I expect," An eerie silence descended over the room as the Dark Lord exited.

Taking a deep breath, Severus drew himself back up and faced his friend. He knew Lucius well enough to know that whatever Voldemort expected, it was something the blonde man wasn't quite prepared to give - yet. He wanted to ask him about it, but knew that this was not the place; the walls had proverbial eyes and ears – and he knew someone was observing them. Severus inclined his head slightly toward entryway and waited for Lucius to move toward the door and then followed closely behind him. They walked in silence for several minutes, until they were far beyond the wards around the Dark Lord's hideout. Without saying a word, Lucius pulled a handkerchief from an interior pocket and held it out to Severus. A familiar tug, then shifting light and suddenly he was standing in the gatehouse on the Malfoy estate. A quick spell, a handful of powder and step through the fire and they were home – his home – Snape Keep.

As they stepped out into the courtyard from the Keep Gatehouse, the sounds of laughing children greeted his ears. Scanning the area, he found the cause. Draco was flying around the yard, Hermione sitting behind him on the broom, her arms wrapped securely around his waist, laughing merrily. Harry was soaring around behind him, matching him turn for turn. He smiled as he walked slowly toward them. Hermione was the first to spot them and as soon as Draco drew near enough to the ground, she jumped off the broom and ran toward him. As she charged, he stooped down to catch her. He regretted it almost immediately, though not for the pain in his limbs caused by the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

Hermione's screams and wails as her hands made contact with his neck tore through his heart and he cursed himself for not remembering how vulnerable she was as a result of her gift. Though Lucius thought quickly and pulled her away, his own exposure to the unforgivable curse did little to calm the frightened and upset girl. Her plaintive cries of "Papa" echoed in his mind. His only relief came when Draco rushed forward, hearing her cries and pulled her away from Lucius. Helplessly, Severus watched as her cries began to calm as Draco comforted her.

Minutes later Arabella rushed toward him, followed closely by Narcissa, Harry clenching tightly to her hand. His heart broke again to see his son's face stained with tears and his bright green eyes alight with anxiety.

"Sev?" she asked, her hands extending towards his face. He saw the momentary flash of rage and disgust as she felt the lingering curse in his system. She closed her eyes briefly and when they opened, it was the professional staring back at him. One hand extended toward Lucius. He saw her frown deepen and knew she felt the curse on Lucius as well.

"Cissa, can you see them both upstairs? Call Mimi or Iggy and have two therapy baths prepared. Lucius can use my bath, if he prefers." Bella said, her eyes looking back and forth between Lucius and himself. Severus could see from her expression that there was no room for argument and silently resigned himself. "I'll be up as soon as I check on Livia." He glanced over his shoulder at his daughter sitting with Draco, visibly calmer even as she clung to the blonde boy. "I'll explain, Sev. She'll be alright."

He nodded and tried to smile reassuringly before turning and allowing Narcissa to guide him into his home.

"Papa?"

Turning quickly, he saw his son running up to him. "Yes, Darrius?"

"Mama will make you feel better and I'll make sure Livi is okay, I promise."

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers through the boy's hair and gave him a genuine smile. How had he ever believed this boy was a spoiled, self-centered brat? What was truly amazing was how gentle and loving his basic nature had to be for him to be as good-natured and caring as he was after the conditions in which he had originally been raised. "Thank you, Darrius," he said. He felt Cissa's gentle touch on his shoulder.

"Come, Severus," she said softly.

With one last look, he turned away.

Arabella took a steadying breath before approaching her scared and confused daughter. As she crouched down, she was couldn't help but notice how small Hermione looked tucked into Draco's side. Draco's was talking softly to her, his hand running over her hair in a steady, soothing rhythm.

" Was Papa hit with the Cruciatus, Mama?" Hermione asked, her voice quivering slightly. Her perception and knowledge startled Bella momentarily.

" How do you know about that curse and its affects, Livia?" she asked in return, her voice firm but not harsh.

" I read it one of the advanced healing books in the library. I mentioned it to Darrius and helped me find it in the Dark Arts books," she replied her voice getting softer as she went out and her eyes darting toward Harry as she revealed their secret.

Bella sighed, "We will discuss your accessing restricted books later. For now, I want all of you to get your lunch. Draco, can I count on you to make sure they do eat?"

" Yes, Lady Arabella," Draco replied.

" Mama?" A voice from behind her asked softly.

" Yes, Darrius?" She said as she turned to face her son.

" Papa will be alright, won't he?"

She smiled. Harry's concern was so clearly written in his expression. "Yes, Darrius. Your father will be fine. A bit short tempered for a while, but he will be fine."

" Can I help, Mama?" Hermione asked, pulling herself away from Draco and rising to her feet.

" Of course, Livia, but not just yet. I will come for you when its time. I want you to get something to eat and spend some time working on your meditations. You will need to be centered and calm. Do you understand?"

" Yes, Mama," she replied, nodding her head.

" Good," Bella said, "Why don't you go in now. I'm sure the elves have lunch prepared."

She followed as the two children and teen made their way into the house, separating from them in the Great Hall. Once they had disappeared around a corner, Bella quickly made her way up to several flights of stairs and down the hall to the master suite. As she entered the room, she could hear Severus arguing with Lucius and Narcissa.

" Really, Severus! You know Bella would kill me if you broke something while trying to get into that damned bath by yourself."

" I am quite capable of seeing to myself, Narcissa. If you feel the need to help someone, help your husband. "

She found herself biting back a laugh at the sharp sounding words; his tone reminded her of a bird with serious ruffled feathers. She could almost see him trying to puff himself up; see him standing there with a straight back and a hard expression. Deciding to spare Narcissa, she stepped around the corner and into the bedroom.

" It's alright, Cissa. I will take care of him. Why don't you get Lucius into his bath? I will send an elf in with a post-cruciatus potion and some clean pajamas."

" I don't think that will be necessary," Lucius said.

Arabella had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the man's pompous airs. The man could be a haughty bastard on occasion, but something about him always drew her, made her want to forgive him his numerous shortcomings. Perhaps it was the odd but strong friendship he shared with Severus or the appeal he held for Cissa; whatever it was, she knew she would needed to help him. Drawing herself up, straightening her posture to an almost painfully erect stance, she turned and locked eyes with him. "Are you arguing with me, Lucius?

" I am fine, Arabella," he said, "I will…"

" Lucius Malfoy, you will do as I say. I am the Healer here and you will not be leaving these premises until I am absolutely certain that any damage done to your system has been healed. Are we clear?"

She felt her heart begin to pound as she faced off with Lucius, grey eyes locking with grey eyes. It wasn't so much a battle of wills as it was a negotiation and an offer of solidarity. The pureblood society and the old ways were complex; had he accepted her offer, done exactly as she asked it would imply he was willingly subservient to her. His challenge was the same – if she hadn't challenged him; she'd be acquiescing to him. She knew she could never do that. She knew she couldn’t let him leave yet. The Malfoys' were important pieces of her plan and she – they - need all the time they had to form and cement those bonds.

Having Lucius subservient to her wouldn't serve her purpose; he was of more use to her strong and independent – an equal. Narcissa, who was sworn to Avalon, was as close to a "follower" as she ever wanted. What she needed was a clever friend, an ear in all the right places that would help her protect her family. She needed her family's honor and well being to be of value to him. Not only for her children's and husband's sake, but for Draco, as well. Arabella had detected an awakening power within Draco she was determined to nurture, not to mention that the further the young man was from Voldemort, the safer Harry and Hermione would be. All she had to do was convince Lucius that Draco, the Malfoy name and even Voldemort would best served by allowing her to control Draco's education – which would mean fostering him and swearing him to Avalon until his graduation from Hogwarts.

Taking a chance, she stepped forward and rested the back of her hand against his cheek. She was surprised when he didn't step back; he had to know what she was going to do. He stared into her eyes. She could feel him measuring her- her intentions, her desires. His curiosity and weariness floated just outside her consciousness. Taking a chance, she buried the contempt she felt for some of the his actions and pushed her emotions into him – her gratitude towards him for saving and projecting Severus so many years ago and the support he and Narcissa had offered Severus since then, the she fondness she felt for Narcissa, as a distant cousin, a fellow of Avalon and as a friend. She dug deep into her memories to resurrect the feelings of bitterness and betrayal toward Fudge and Dumbledore and let those fleetingly brush with his senses. Layered on top of the emotion was her sense of worry of what they – he and Severus - had been subjected to, not only today but also in the past.

" Please, Lucius. Trust me. Let me help you," she asked softly.

The few minutes she was forced to wait for his answer seemed eternal. She kept her facial expression clean, yet internally she feared she played her hand to early and perhaps shown him too much.

" Alright, Bella, if it will ease your worry, we will stay this night. I would appreciate it if appropriate attire was acquired from Malfoy Manner."

Narcissa smiled and, to Bella's well-trained eye, relaxed at her husband's acquiescence. "I will draw up a list, Lucius, as soon as you are situated."

" Good! Cissa, I'll leave him to you for now. I'll come check on you both in 30 minutes." Bella said smiling. Turning toward her husband, she held out her hand and drew him toward her. With an arm around his waist, she guided him toward his bath.

Once behind closed doors, she assisted Severus in disrobing and into the warm, swirling and healing waters. Crouching beside the tub, she held up the long sleeve of her kirtle and tested the water. With her eyes closed, she felt for the energies imbued to the waters by the healing potions she had ordered added to it. Satisfied with the elves' work, she rose and stepped away from the tub. Quickly, she pulled off her robe and then surcoate.

" What are you doing?" Severus asked as she pulled her kirtle off, as well and hung it with the other garments, leaving her body covered in only her thin linen chemise. She sighed at the weary but stubborn bite in his voice and resigned herself to his foul mood – at least temporarily.

" Really, Sev, did you think I would help you while remaining completely dressed? Just because I can dry them with the wave of a wand, doesn't mean I wish to be wear them wet in the first place," she said as she turned towards the tray of small potions bottles left on the counter. Gathering several bottles of medicinal oils and a soft cloth from the counter, she walked over and knelt beside the tube on a soft, cushioned mat.

" I can manage by myself," he said in a stern, offended sounding tone; she merely rolled her eyes at him. She knew his attitude, at the moment, was more bluster than anything else.

" Yes, you could Sev, but this will be more enjoyable. Besides, you know it will make me feel better to help you." She said as she poured a liberal amount of one of the oils on her hands and began gently stroking it over his shoulders and arms. As she worked the oils into his skin, letting the medicinal values in them work their magic as she used her own skills to soothe and heal some of the deeper damage. She knew immediately when the healing began to take effect; Severus slumped as the tension began to drain from him.

A tentative peace settled over the room. Bella could feel his internal conflict, but knew enough not to push him. She was surprised when, just a few minutes later he asked, "Will Livia be alright?"

She hesitated for a moment, having hoped to delay this conversation a bit longer.

" Bella?" he asked again, this time shifting in the tub as if preparing to rise from it.

" Stay put, Severus," she said, raising her eyes to meet his.

" Tell me," was his reply. He continued to sit upright and she sighed in resignation, knowing he would climb from the tub to seek Hermione out if she didn't tell him what she knew.

" They know, Sev, about Cruciatus. Livia recognized the symptoms. She and Darrius have apparently been doing some extra curricular studies. She's fine, now. Draco did a wonderful job of soothing her," Severus' eyes widened at that comment and it occurred to her that he might not know of Draco's talent. "Darrius and Draco are looking after her; I promised she could help treat you - but not until later." She paused for a minute, placing her hand in the center of her husband's chest and gently easing him back into the warm churning waters of the tub. "Sev, did you know that Draco is a sensitive?"

Sev's face paled as he stared at her in shock.

" I thought I detected it when I first met him, but it was so weak, I couldn't be sure. But his reactions to Livi this morning… it's not weak anymore. He used it remarkably well; he seems to be naturally good a sublimating emotions – or rather, Lucius has trained him well. He definitely isn't aware of what was happening though. He needs to be trained."

" You're sure?" His voice was soft, clipped – precise, like he was still trying to work her statement into his consciousness. All Bella could do was nod in reply.

Being a sensitive – at least a strong one - was a curse in the wizarding world. Empaths have an inborn ability to differentiate between their own emotions and those sensed from others. They learn, instinctively how to control the gift the same as other children learn how to speak. Sensitives had no such abilities. While they absorbed emotions in the same manner as empaths, they had no way of distinguishing those emotions as being foreign. Having no way to discriminate their own emotions from others meant there was no way to control it. A sensitive's only hope was an empathy being willing and able to help them learn control through magic, reason and emotional sublimation.

" You will help him?" The uncertainty in Severus' voice struck a cord deep within her. She knew he was really asking if she would help Draco regardless of his father's blind devotion to the bastard Voldemort.

" I will help him," she said. Leaning over, she gently kissed his cheeks and then whispered in his ear, "I promise." Sitting back, she continued, "Now, promise me you will sit in the water for an hour."

" Bell, I'm fine now," he replied, a bit exasperated.

" You'll be better after an hour if you stay in that spa treatment. I need to go check on Livia and Darrius and I want to test Draco before I talk to Lucius and Cissa. I’ll be back in an hour and a quarter." Leaning over again, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips, "Be ready for me when I get back okay? I want to work on some of the more serious damage done to your nervous system again before letting Livia and Darrius in here. "

Jumping up to her feet, she summoned her complex outfit and dressed quickly while she waited for Severus to concede. He finally gave her a caustic "fine." She smiled at him softly before opening the door and leaving. Once outside, she found it difficult not to slump against the wall. The temptation to give in to her tired body was almost overwhelming. Taking a deep breath and firming her resolve, however, was her only course of action; she couldn't succumb and leave her family – not to mention Draco – to fend for themselves. Walking toward her full-length mirror, she straightened the layers of clothing she wore, mentally cursing her affinity for the more traditional styles as she longed for the ease and comfort of Muggle clothing. Yet, as she absently listened and followed the mirror suggestions to fix her hair and freshen her make-up, she admitted to herself, that despite the bother, the clothes suited her. They were an outward symbol of who she was – a well-born witch of an ancient family who was educated in the old ways. She was of Avalon - The Lady of Avalon, herself. The upturned waning crescent of an eclipsed moon imbedded in her forehead was testament to that.

When Narcissa and Draco had arrived mid-morning, she had put forth a mask, played a part that felt unnatural – alien. Yet, now, as she gazed at her reflection – she knew the truth. That "act" was as true to herself and as the long unused as the style of dress she now wore. She could see past "old" Arabella – the one hidden behind years of Muggle disguise – to the even "older" Arabella she had been – the confident, determined, willful and powerful witch. The only difference she could detect was her naiveté and youthful optimism had been replaced by experience and a truer understanding of the nature of life, of love and loss, of pleasure and pain. With a simple nod to herself, she exited the room, gliding down the hall in the silent, graceful stride that had been ingrained in her since she was a small child. As she rounded the corner of the hall, she could hear the faint sounds of conversation drifting up the stairs from the dinning room. At the foot of the stairway, the voices became more distinct and she paused briefly to listen.

" Shut up, Darrius," Hermione said, her voice strained and as falsely polite as she could muster considering the words she used.

" Now, Livi," Harry said teasingly, "I think Draco would find it endearing!"

" I don't particularly care what Draco would think!" Hermione replied, her voice taking on an almost haughty tone.

" As curious as I am," Draco chimed in, "I do not believe it is wise to tease our Lady, Darrius."

" Pfft! Lady! Really, Draco! She's just Livi. Besides, if you are going to marry her someday, you should know who you will have to share your bed with…" Darrius replied, a bit slyly.

Arabella could almost see the teasing smirk on her son's face – so like his father's. It was probably the only thing stopping her at the moment from walking through that door and lecturing him soundly about teasing his sister so meanly.

" Darrius Snape!" Hermione's outraged voice echoed into the halls.

" It's really cute, Draco," Harry said, "She has this fluffy stuffed dragon that she can't sleep without – calls him Dray Dray."

" I think that's enough, Darrius," Draco replied, his voice carrying over Harry's.

" UGH!" Hermione exclaimed. Arabella could hear the thwap of her daughter's napkin hitting the table as if balled up and tossed down harshly. The sound of a chair being pushed back from the table followed and within seconds, Hermione was storming past her in such an agitated state, she was unaware of anything around her.

" Brilliant, Darrius," Draco said in a displeased tone, "Do you feel better now?"

The room was quiet as Arabella walked softly toward the door. From her vantage point, she could see Darrius sitting starring directly at Draco. The intense, measuring glare in his eyes reminded her again of Severus. Though Harry's eyes were green, he still managed to use the same penetrating gaze. Suddenly, Harry's eyes flickered and softened and she knew she had been spotted. Smiling back at her son, she stepped fully into the doorway.

" Darrius, perhaps you should assist Livia in getting her yarn and needles. Your father placed them on a high shelf last night and she shouldn't be climbing in her dress."

" Yes, Ma'am," Darrius replied and immediately rose from the table and moved to follow Hermione. He stopped only briefly as he neared her, "How is Father, Mother?" he asked trying to sound formal, as he had been schooled to do in front of company.

Arabella smiled reached out a hand, gently brushing it over her son's head, "He will be fine, Darrius. You can see him when you lessons are complete."

Harry smiled at her before moving off at a quick pace. Turning to face Draco, who was now standing and watching her, she listened as Harry called out to Livia to wait for him. At the sound of their soft bickering renewed, she smiled only to be met by a perplexed look from Draco.

" Why did you let him get away with that?" Draco asked.

Arabella studied him for a moment, trying to determine the extent of Draco's concern. He had, after all, only met Livia and Darrius hours earlier. Definitely not enough time to form any bonds, unless…

Holding out her hand, she said, "May I have your hand, Draco?"

He stared at her, his eyes wide like a frightened deer. Arabella could see his body straining against the desire to step back from her. Then, suddenly, the demeanor of the boy standing before her changed; it was like a wall fell behind his eyes, allowing her to see nothing by calm aloofness. He extended his hand to her and when she grasped it, she felt only his controlled confidence, with shades of annoyance at Darrius for his earlier behavior toward Livia and mild concern for Livia, herself.

" You have wonderful control, Draco," she said as she sent small mental tendrils into his him, searching along the mental wall for the a small crack, " Your father would be proud." The flash of pride that flashed in him momentarily was the opportunity she had hoped for as she slid her probe deeper into his mind. She forced a smile and a serene expression as she was bombarded by the turbulent waves of emotions he was suppressing and controlling quite effectively. Gently, she searched the threads of fear, anger, frustration and confusion until she found one that bore the distinct signature that belonged to her daughter. Tracing it back to the root, she closed her eyes and concentrated on dampening the new and unexpected bond between Hermione and Draco. When she opened her eyes again, Draco's composure was threatening to crumble, his eyes once again wide with fear.

" It will be alright, Draco," she said softly. "Have you told your parents?"

Draco merely shook his head in the negative.

" Why?" She asked.

After a few moments, he replied, softly, "I don't want anyone to know I am a freak - cursed."

" Being a sensitive is not a curse, Draco, regardless of what you have been told. It’s a gift, one that with training and a bit of subterfuge can serve you well. Why do you think your father has trained you as he has – to control your emotions ruthlessly?"

" Father is not a sensitive," Draco said firmly.

" You are right, he is not, but I suspect it is a Malfoy trait. I have long suspected it, since I first learned of your father's training - how all Malfoy's are trained to control themselves so thoroughly. The real question is, Draco, is your father's training enough for you, or do you wish to learn more? Make the most of the gift?"

" It's not a gift! It’s a curse! One that can not be controlled," Draco said, his agitation level rising.

" It can not be controlled, Draco. It can be learned, manipulated. And there are benefits." She said calmly.

" Benefits," he said incredulously.

" Yes, like the bond you currently share with Livia." She saw his surprise and smiled before continuing, "It was likely a bit of accidental magic and as a result, I am unable to undo the bond. However, it is also very likely only temporary and should disintegrate in the next week or so – if that is your wish, of course. However, given time and training, you two could establish a more permanent bond. Such a bond could be, " Arabella paused, tilting her head to the side slightly, "shall we say - beneficial – to you both should you decide to fulfill the contract."

Draco flushed slightly at her statement and she had to repress a laugh. She could feel him weighing his options and squeezed his hand before releasing it. "I would be glad to teach you what I can, Draco. But many of the things that would be most beneficial to you would require a pledge to Avalon." She saw his face immediately fall. "It would not need to be a permanent one – merely one that lasts until you are of legal age."

He looked up at her and she could see the flicker of hope in his eyes. He wanted to learn, of that she had no doubt and if she could keep him for Voldemort's service for just a bit longer, she might be able to keep out altogether. Though she only barely knew Draco, there was something in him that attracted her and she couldn't stand to see him fall under that demon's influence. "I need to know if this is what you want before I talk to your parents."

" I would like that, Lady," Draco said softly – respectfully.

Bella smiled genuinely at him. "Would you care to join me while I talk to them?"

Though he swallowed hard, he nodded. He had courage, which was good. He would need it.

" Alright, then. I just need to talk to the twins for a moment. Wait here."

Going into the library, she quickly instructed Harry and Hermione to practice their meditation exercises in the solarium and then followed them out of the room. As they crossed the Great Hall, Hermione stopped before Draco and smiled at him. He smiled when she crocked her finger in his direction and leaned over so they were nearly eye-to-eye. Hermione surprised him with a sudden move; she stood of her toes and kissed him on the cheek, before whispering in his ear, "Don't be afraid." In a flash, she scurried off, not once looking behind her. Harry simply shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes before following after her.

" Are you ready?" she asked, trying to hide her amusement.

At his nod, she gestured toward the stairs. Draco turned and stared up at the staircase, seeming daunted by what lay in wait for him. In a blink of her eye, the trepidation disappeared from his posture, leaving a hauntingly confident young man in its wake. Turning around, he addressed her, "There is one thing I don't understand, Lady?"

Arabella raised her eyebrow toward him as she came even with him on the steps, "yes, Draco?"

" What is Livia doing with yarn and needles?"

Draco's expression was so earnest that she couldn't help but chuckle. "As yes, Livia has taken up the habit of knitting or crocheting by hand when agitated. She finds it calming." He looked at her with a bewildered expression before turning again and walking steadily up the stairs, only pausing at the top so that she could lead the way. She studied him again as they walked; she prayed she was right. She was playing with fire – her machinations could backfire on them all in so many ways. She knew Harry and Hermione disliked Draco – strongly. She to build a strong bridge between the teens before returning Harry's and Hermione's memories or her plan would weaken considerably. Her intuition was screaming at her that Draco could be the thread that tied this whole thing together – and the cornerstone to her children's survival.

August 17th

(Harry and Hermione age to between 12 and 13 years)

It was still dark when she opened her eyes, a dire sense of disorientation prodding her into wakefulness. Falling back on training ground deeply into her, she steadied and quieted her mind, allowing her consciousness to drift until she could identify what disturbed her enough to draw her from a deep and peaceful sleep. The first sense she encountered was the dominating and comforting presences of Severus' mind. It was disciplined and organized, even when a sleep. Her body relaxed back against his chest as his arms and mind reached out to entangle her, drawing her back into shelter that his love and essence embodied. The warmth was intoxicating as it lulled her sense, pulling her back toward a blissful sleep. In her half-awakened state, with the sense of Severus cocooning her, Arabella wondered if this was the reason Gran Grainne had arranged her marriage to Severus. She must have known a deep bond would form between a sensitive and an empathy. Granted, Sev was a low-level sensitive; but the curse – or gift, in this case – was there. Her grandmother had gambled that her friendship with Severus would blossom and that their minds and hearts would fall into a tandem existence. She had been right though – completely. She had fallen hard for Severus, not just as a twenty-something – but again, over that last year.

Snuggling further into her husband's embrace, she sent a mental thank-you to the powers that be for the bond created between them. She knew it was the most important factor in strengthening the fragile, threadbare fabric of her marriage. She hoped one day her daughter could experience such a bond; she hoped her gamble with Draco paid off….

Arabella sat straight up, nearly jumping out of the large bed. As her thoughts had drifted to Hermione and Draco, an icy hand had tightened around her heart and choked the panicked cry deep in her throat. Scrambling onto her knees, she searched the bottom of the bed frantically in the pitch black of her room for her dressing robe. A small tingle in her hand signaled a surge of magic just before the soft fabric of her robe brushed her fingers. Tugging it on, she was only vaguely aware of the soft rustling of bed covers or the new, dim glow that lit the way from her bedroom, down the stairs and hall towards Hermione's room.

When she reached her daughter's door, she knocked – more out of habit than conscious thought – and immediately opened it. Hermione sat on the bed, breathing rapidly. The ghostly grey of the moon's light drifting in broken streams; the heavy curtains cast dark shadows and imbued the room with a foreboding air. Arabella shivered as she stared at Hermione's vacant, shocked expression from across a seeming wide expanse. The darkness of the girl's hair and eyes emphasized the stark paleness of her skin. Unconsciously, Arabella stepped backwards, pressing her body against Severus, who stood a breath away. She needed the assurance of his presence.

She felt one arm slip around her waist and heard the soft whisper of his voice just before the candles lit and the fire in the hearth blazed, chasing the coldness from the room. Hermione's face began to lose its emptiness, becoming fear-filled and confused. Moving rapidly, Arabella crossed the room, climbed onto the bed and pulled the girl into her arms. Hermione's arms wrapped around her, tentatively at first, tightening steadily as she succumbed to the torment of emotions within her. Choked sobs increased until they became an all out expulsion of the terror and turmoil that had torn Hermione from a safe and peaceful slumber. The power of the emotions nearly overwhelmed Bella as she tried to control her own reactions and filter love and reassurance to the girl cradled against her.

Severus' joined them moments later, wrapping them both in his arms. When her daughter's sobs slowed into an occasional shutter, Arabella began to gently probe the girl's mind. After a week of monitoring, she was able to quickly find the fragile bond between Hermione and Draco that had been diminishing day-by-day, hour-by-hour. Instead of the broken thread she had hoped to find, a mental hot spot burned brightly. With a practiced ease, she built temporary barriers around the bond, isolating it from Hermione's conscious mind.

" Something's happened to Draco," Hermione said softly into the folds of Bella's robe.

At Hermione's words, Arabella sensed Sev's surprise increase coupled by shock and worry. Sitting back, Bella tried to smile reassuringly to both of them, even as she gently brushed a few loose strands of black hair from the girl's face.

" Yes, sweetheart, I think something has happened to Draco," she hesitated to continue, not wanting to scare either by stating that the boy in question was still alive. The words themselves would have suggested there was a reason – which the current state of the bond provided – to believe otherwise.

" He's hurt badly, Mama," the young voice sounded so much older than it should have – resigned and wise beyond her years. Arabella couldn't help but be saddened by the advanced maturity her daughter was showing – even knowing that it was a trait Hermione had been particularly know for in the past. The effect was even more pronounced as the first stages of "baby fat" had begun to leave her face, revealing her strong and elegant bone structure.

" Yes, Livia, " she replied, "I think you are right. There is much to do if we are to help him." Sliding off the bed, she called out "Mimi." The elf appeared in a blink, wobbly and disoriented. Mimi rubbed her large, round eyes and looked up at Arabella, waiting for instructions. Hermione slid closer to Severus as Bella spoke.

" Mimi, I need you to prepare a bath for Livia. Use the calming salts and the new scented oils and rinses I gave you for her." Hermione perked up, sitting a bit straighter, her eyes lighting with a bit of curiosity at the mention of the new items. "When she is finished bathing, I want her hair braided fully and tied back. Set out the pale blue chemise and the matching sky blue overdress. "

" Yes, Lady," the tired elf said.

Severus gently pushed Hermione from the bed, "Go on, Livia. When you are finished, have Mimi make you some of the special hot chocolate and wait for us in the kitchens. "

" Okay, Papa," Hermione said as she slid the rest of the way off the bed and followed the elf into the bathroom.

Severus followed suit and was soon standing in front of Arabella. She nodded when he gestured toward the door and walked with him from the room.

" What happened?" he demanded almost immediately.

" I don't know, but it was sudden, powerful and very painful for Draco. How many of the healing potions were you able to replenish?"

Severus was quiet for a short time as he mentally ran through his inventory of the potions he had recently brewed or was currently brewing. "One full batch of the post-Cruciatus. A batch of mild sleeping draught and painkillers, as well. I will have to retrieve others from the stores at Hogwarts."

" Can you bring some stronger pain and dreamless sleep potions, as well? I have a feeling they will be needed."

Severus nodded and started to walk toward their rooms.

" Sev," she called after him, "Hurry, please," her voice trailed off. She could bring herself to express her fear verbally.

He walked back to her, grasping her face in his hands. "I will only be gone as long as necessary. I promise. " Leaning forward, he brushed a quick kiss against her lips. She tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage. After a moment, he turned away and continued toward their rooms. Taking a fortifying breath, she followed.

=======================================

“Severus Snape!” The frantic voice called into the near empty room.

“ Severus Snape!” The voice called again and again, growing more panicked each time, demanding attention. Her heart slammed in her chest as she moved to stand in the large fireplace, bringing herself almost face to face with Lucius Malfoy formed in the green flames. For a moment she watched the pained, almost desperate expression on the man’s face as he again called out for Severus. Taking a breath to steady herself, pushing down the vestiges of guilt she felt and grabbed the green powder from its urn, tossing it into the flames.

“ Lucius? Severus isn’t here, what’s happened?” She called, forcing her voice into a calm, controlled tone.

“ Merlin! Bella, I… ” He swore then allowed his voice to fade out as he glanced behind himself before turning his face back into the fire. If possible his face registered even more panic and anger than before. Arabella found herself distinctly grateful he was not physically present at the moment; the intense waves of emotion that must be oozing off the usually cold man were disturbing and painful to imagine.

“ Lucius! Tell me what’s wrong!” She demanded, her years of training as both a mediwitch and a empath kicking in.

“ It’s Draco,” he bit out, his voice growing bitter, “He’s been hurt. He needs help. I can’t. . . I can’t…”

What Lucius didn’t say told her all she needed to know. There was only one reason he would refrain from calling in a medical professional or take his son to a hospital. Voldemort had expressed displeasure at the decision to let Draco study the arts of Avalon.

“ Lucius, listen to me. Is Draco near by?” She waited for the man to reply, accepting his almost frantic nod as an affirmative. “I am going to light the fire in the gatehouse. Give me a few minutes and then bring him through. Don’t waste time, and don’t argue. I will help him.”

Lucius’ face disappeared and Bella took off out of the study and into the great hall, calling for Livia as she ran. Throwing open the front door, she raced the distance to the gatehouse. As soon as she was through the door, she called out, "Imflamarae"

Almost immediate, Lucius face appeared and said, “We’re ready.”

Arabella nodded and stepped back. She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder and turned to look into Hermione’s eyes. She could see the fear, confusion and worry swirling in the near-black depths. Raising a hand she touched her cheek reassuringly, “It will be alright,” she said with a tight smile as she held out her hand to her.

Arabella felt Hermione take her hand and squeezed it reassuringly just as a loud whoosh of air announced the entrance of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, their son's twitching body in Lucius' arms.

With a flick of the wand, Arabella transfigured a small sofa in to a bed. “Place him hear,” she said, addressing Lucius. “Livia, sweetheart, come hear. I want you to listen carefully. The Cruciatus has over stimulated his nervous system. We need to calm the activity before brain damage sets in. Do you remember what I taught you?”

“ Yes, Ma’am.” Hermione’s voice was slightly unsteady as she spoke.

Arabella smiled reassuringly at her then gestured for Hermione to take her place on one side of the bed. Then turning to Lucius, she said, “I need you to go up to the main house. I left the elves instructions, they will need your assistance to finish one of the potions..” She said and waited for him to start to balk. Lucius, surprising, hesitated only a minute – looking back at his son and then his wife, before hurrying to do Arabella's bidding.

Moving to the opposite side of Draco from Hermione, she knelt down and placed her hands besides the young woman’s slightly shaking ones. “Put your emotions aside. Focus on the energy.” She said as she studied her adopted daughter for a moment, looking for signs of distress. Arabella found none. Instead, she saw a keen expression of concentration and evidence that Draco was already improving. Reaching out, Arabella placed her hands opposite to Hermione’s and braced herself for impact of Draco’s tormented emotions. The young man’s pain and fear nearly overwhelmed her senses. It took a few seconds to regain full control of her faculties. Opening her mind, stretched out her senses to determine the current extent of activity within Draco’s mind and nervous system, then focused her energy toward decreasing and normalizing those patterns.

She was only faintly aware of Harry’s arrival at her side, followed shortly by Severus. With relief, Arabella felt the sudden decrease in Draco’s physical pain; either Harry or Severus had given the boy several pain and counter-cruciatus potions. At some point during the afternoon, she felt Hermione’s presence fail and knew the girl had exhausted herself. Trusting Sev and Harry to care for her, Arabella maintained her focus on Draco’s mind, calming to prevent further damage and healing what she could. She fought against not only her own anger and disgust at the damage and pain inflicted on the young man, but Draco’s as well.

The longer she worked on the young man, the heavier her limbs seemed and the more difficult it was to channel her energies. The prickling sting in her fingers was the first warning that she was pushing herself beyond her limits. She was not surprised when her weary mind and taxed endurance finally evaporated. Strong arms caught her sagging body, drawing her up and lifting her. Warmth and reassurance flooded into her and she relaxed into Severus embrace. “Livia?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“ Fine. I gave her a restorative. She is resting in her room.” He answered, softly.

She could feel forward motion, and tried to push herself away from him. “No, can’t leave yet. He still. . . “

“ You are exhausted, Bella. Darrius and I can handle it for now. You need to rest.” Severus voice was firm yet gentle as he continued to move out of the gatehouse, across the courtyard, into the keep and up the stairs. Once in their fire-lit room, he placed her on the large bed and gently stripped off her clothes with warm and gently hands. The feel of his fingers against her skin soothed and invigorated her at the same time. She felt him pull her up and hold several potions to her lips that she dutifully swallowed before being lowered down into the softness of their bed. She was only vaguely aware of his whispered "I love you" as her mind retreated into the darkness of sleep.

The sound of laughter drifted into the hall as Severus descended the steps. As he drew closer, he began to hear the faint voices of his children and Draco drifting through the closed doors of the dinning room.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you to understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins."

Draco was doing a fair imitation of Severus, down to the cadence and tonal texture of his voice. The gales of laughter that rang out from behind the closed doors brought a bitter-sweat smile to his face. He seemed to be smiling a lot in recent months, finding joy in his family's happiness. His pleasure was tinged, however, by the trepidation he felt about his family's impeding return to Hogwarts and all the dangers associated with the nearing war. He steeled his expression into the intimidating mask he often used during the school year before pushing open the double door and entering in a dramatic flourish.

"Bravo, Mr. Malfoy," he said, his voice smooth, almost silky with an underlying dangerous edge. Draco's eyes went wide. Harry and Hermione turned toward the doorway in which Severus stood wearing equally shocked and slightly nervous expressions. He sneered at them half-heartedly, slightly amused by their surprise. Harry and Hermione had no memory of his sharp-tongued professor persona; they only knew the father he had learned to be for them. The room was quiet for several long minutes before Harry and Hermione began to smile.

"Morning, Father. Did you sleep well?" he asked, acting completely nonplussed by the encounter.

"Quite," he responded as he glanced over his son, noting his appearance. "What," he added, pausing briefly to examine his son's apparel, "are you wearing?" Even as he spoke, he looked his son over again, amazed at how shortness of the sleeves of the boy's robes. Harry had grown significantly overnight - again. He was a good four inches taller and as skinny as Severus had been at that age, reed thin, in fact. Harry's chin hair hung limply about his face and was as inky black as his own, the roots of which seemed to be streaked with oil as if he had not washed his hair in a day or two. The thing that concerned him most was how pale and drawn Harry appeared. There were shadows under his eyes and their usual vibrant color had dimmed. He tried to assuage his concern with the knowledge that the hallow appearance and accentuated cheekbones was caused only by the growth spurt and the bodies consumption of nutrients and reserves to re-grow the bone and muscle structure. A few extra doses of the nutrient potion over the next day or two should replace anything lost and return his son to the picture of health.

Despite his mental reasoning, he couldn't quell the faint chill that ran down his spine, "How do you feel, Darrius?"

"Tired. I grew again," the boy stated, displaying his arms. "I asked Winky to bring me an extra glass of the supplement." Severus nodded, satisfied with Darrius answer. He offered Harry a faint, but proud smile as his son continued, "Oh, and last time I checked, Father, these," he said, gesturing toward his garment, "were called robes." Pulling out his wand, Severus casting the spell that would temporarily enlarge the boy's robes before turning and performing a rudimentary exam of Hermione.

Upon his inspection, he was relieved to notice that her growth had not been nearly as drastic as Harry's. While her hair and skin seemed a bit lackluster and her face was more waif-like than usual, she looked fine. Cast a quick inspection over her breakfast, he noticed the two glasses of supplement and nodded in approval. Taking his seat at the head of the table, he waited for the others to sit before questioning their conversation.

"Mr. Malfoy was telling you about Hogwarts," he stated. He knew they would have questions, breaching the subject himself would save time wasted by bush beating.

It was Hermione that spoke up first.

"Are you really that mean to Gryffindor, Father?"

Draco choked almost immediately upon hearing her words. Severus smiled internally at her forthrightness; Bella was much the same way. He wondered briefly if it was a trait she had learned over the past year or if she had always been so.

"Yes. Their insufferable," he said with only a slight edge in his voice. "The others have a tendency to cater to them. The Headmaster's darlings. Someone has to deflate their egos."

"So house rivalry has nothing to do with it?" Darrius said, smiling slyly.

Severus' response was interrupted by the sound of the front doors flying open, closely followed Bella's angry call – "Severus!" Putting his utensils down, he quickly rose from his seat and went to greet his wife. He hadn't expected her back anytime soon as she usually spent half the day with Remus after his final transformation of the month.

Bella spun around to face him as soon as he entered the hall. As soon as he saw her eyes, his felt tight bands of apprehension constricting around his chest. Her eyes glittered brightly with unshed tears that did nothing to mask the maelstrom of emotions that swirled behind them. The tight set of her lips and clenched hands were visible signs of how tenuous her control of her magic was at that moment. More so, he could feel how close to the edge she was; his skin tingled with the flaring energy that radiated off of her from across the entrance hall.

Turning toward the children who had followed him, he sent them off to finish their meal before moving toward his wife. Walking up to where she stood, he raised a hand to face, gently brushing away a stray tear from her eye before taking her hand and guiding her toward the library. Only when the doors were closed behind them and privacy charms placed, did he pull her into his arms. The turbulence of her emotions flooded into him as he attempted to use his own emotional control to calm her. It was several long minutes before she began to relay to him what Fudge – or rather the Ministry - had done. The harshness of her tone was unlike her usually rich, smooth voice.

He listened as she told him about the Ministry changing legal status of certain "non-human" groups, regulating where and when they may find work, where they could live. Her rage had flared as she described the Ministry's further overstepping of their legal jurisdiction by firing Remus from the position Dumbledore had appointed him, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professorship. He had to suppress his reaction to her pain and anger as it flooded his mind as she told him about Remus' expression and the defeat she had seen in her friend's eyes. Her anger at the MoM's audacity to interfere with Hogwarts autonomy and Dumbledore's seeming willingness to allow it left them both shaking from the effort to control her rage and frustration. The MoM declaration that they would be appointing a suitable instructor just added insult to injury. Somewhere under her rampaging emotions, he could feel his own disbelief and resentment growing.

He held her in silence, trying to reconcile what she had told him and figure out how to make the new situation work for them and their family. Bella finally pulled away and began pacing the confines of the room. Knowing better than to disturb her while she schemed, he quiet left the room and sought out Harry and Hermione, quickly finding them in Draco's room.

Hermione sitting beside the blonde boy on the bed, talking quietly to him while Harry glared at them from across the room. All eyes turned to him as he stood in the doorway; Harry rose from his chair walking over to him. He could see the anxiousness that glowed in the boy's eyes. In that moment, Severus knew that what ever had remained of the cocoon that had surrounded them this past year was in tatters at his feet.

"Is Mama okay? Who in hell does this Fudge prat think he is anyway?"

Severus looked at his son, eyebrow raised in displeasure at his tone of voice, hiding his surprise at the boy's knowledge. "Your mother is fine, alibi quiet displeased with both Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore." He paused for a moment, glancing between the three teens present in the room. "Our return to Hogwarts has been hastened. Livia, help Draco pack his things, then finish packing your own. Darrius, if you would accompany me, there are several potions that need to be finished and stored for transport."

With a final nod in his daughter's direction, he left the room with Darrius falling into step beside him. They walked in silence down several flights of stairs into the dungeon labs. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Harry as he kept pace beside him. Regret settled over him as the stray thought invaded his mind: the comfortable companionship that existed between them would disappear with Harry's returned memories if he didn't do something to stop it.

Severus glanced toward his son as they entered the lab and busied themselves automatically, each taking care of their own potions and tasks. Harry's comfort and skill in the lab usually brought him equal parts of pride and regret; the emotions were now – like many other things – tinged with fear. He was afraid of losing his son and even after a year of getting to know him, he still didn't know what to say to him or how to explain what he was about to remember. Looking away, he tried to bury his worries under the layer of concentration required to perform his current tasks.

"Father," Harry voice was hesitant, unsure in a way Severus rarely heard. Looking over at his son, he observed the boy's evasive behavior – how he refused to look up at him, acting busier than his potions would usually keep him. "Isn't there something we can do? For Remus, I mean. I know you don't," he hesitated again as he spoke, "like him, but," Harry looked up at him then and the betrayal and hurt Severus saw shining back at him from the bright green eyes not only pained and angered him on his son's behalf, but reminded him of just how loyal he was and how personal he took things.

"He is not alone, Darrius. He has powerful friends. He will be fine, I promise." Severus replied softly.

"And the others?" Harry replied, his voice stronger, more adamant.

"I can't promise Darrius, but I am fairly certain that, even now, steps are being taken to safe guard those who can not protect themselves."

They settled again into an uncomfortable silence. He wished there was something he could do to ease his son's discomfort. He knew there were lingering feelings of powerless from the past few years in his life and that no matter how buried his memories were, some things had left such indelible marks on his son's soul that they would never fully heal. Thoughts of his son's life before made him think again of all the hints Bella had sent him over the years about Harry's life, hints he had blatantly ignored. He had let some damn spell have more influence over his behavior than his faith, trust and knowledge of his wife. The reality of his son's life had left him with many sleepless nights wandering the halls of the ancient castle that was the Snape family home. It left him nauseous to think of all years he had lost with his son and all they years of love his son had lost out on. He couldn't help but wonder how different things could have been. At the very least, a bit of kindness to Harry – his student – could have made a large difference in what their relationship would be come September.

"What troubles you, father?"

A surprised Severus turned to face Harry and found solace in his son's unguarded and concerned expression. A small bit of hope grabbed him and he remembered what Bella told the other night – to speak from the heart and not hold back. Harry would remember the honestly later, and with all the secrets and lies in his life, that it would mean more to him than any other explanation.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Darrius, do you remember when your mother and I explained about de-aging your sister and yourself? Do you remember why we decided to do it?"

Harry nodded and Severus could see the faint bit of confusion and embarrassment swirl in his eyes. "Yes," he said, looking down at his work, "You said that Livi and I reacted badly to you. We were …"

"You were teen-agers. You felt like I was intruding and that you didn't need a father anymore. All of which are expected reactions under the circumstances." Severus paused, trying to figure out just how to continue. "But that isn't the full truth, Darrius. You, Livia and I met before I knew who you were. I taught you with a group of other students. You were under charms and I didn't realize who you were."

"You taught us? How? Privately?" Darrius interrupted, the surprise clear in his voice.

Severus gave a half-nod, not wanting to lie but not having another option and simply continued, "I was hard on you. Cruel. You both have good reason to hate me." He could feel his hands quiver and his chest tighten as he spoke. He closed his eyes for a brief second before continuing, "You where charmed, disguised when we met. You looked like a friend of your mother's that I despised. That hatred colored my treatment and opinion of you. Your sister on the other hand reminded me of your mother and, as a result, everything I had lost. I treated her badly. "

As he talked, he watched the hurt, confusion and disillusionment grow in Harry's eyes. Biting back against the dread that was expanding in his chest, he continued on, "My behavior was petty and I will regret it for the rest of my life." His voice was faint as if to echo the how paltry the apology sounded to his own ears.

Harry turned away from him and Severus reacted on instinct. He moved from his place behind his worktable to where his son stood and turned him back to face him.

"Darrius, you asked me what was bothering me. In a few short weeks, all those memories will come back to you and I," he stopped and just looked his son in the eyes, "I am afraid that despite this past year, I will still loose your respect and affection and that of your sister."

Harry's green eyes reflected the muddle of emotions churning within him, the uncertainty the most clear. Slightly shaken, he offered no resistance when his son pulled away from him and returned to work on his potions, playing close attention to the details. After a brief moment, Severus made his way back to his own table and his own collection of potions. Occasionally, he looked toward his son, watching for any sign that Harry was ready to continue their talk.

Harry's independent nature and tendency toward stubborn self-reliance and isolation was yet another thing so ingrained in him, it remained even after he was de-aged. It was a survival mechanism born of the neglect of his aunt and uncle. The longer the silence continued and Harry refused to even acknowledge his presence, the stronger Severus' worry that his son would shut him out and try to deal with the revelations alone. Every second that ticked by for him was like watching his son slowly drift away and out of his reach.

"Father?"

Severus had nearly given up on his plan of waiting for Harry to open up again when his son had spoken. Schooling his features in to a less eager countenance then he felt, he turned his gaze to see Harry's uncertain and almost fearful expression. For a brief instant, Severus wished his son were a small child again. Then, he could rush across the room and lift his son into his arms, reassure him that he was loved. But his "little boy" was no longer a little boy; he was a young man on the verge of being an adult. Simple displays of affection, like a kiss on a scraped knee, could no longer make the hurt go away.

"Do you still dislike me as a person?"

The world stopped and narrowed into a single moment.

His son actually feared he didn't like him as a person. The sorrow that filled him was suffocating. His eyes burned. He found himself blinking rapidly as he stared across the room. Slowly, Harry turned away, his disappointment visible. The pained expression on that one face felt like a knife in his heart and seemed to snap time back into motion. With little heed to his earlier belief or his steaming potion, he dropped everything and moved across the room. Taking Harry by the shoulders, he turned him to face him. The water glittering in his son's eyes tore at him; he had caused that pain. Uncaring for decorum, Severus pulled Harry into his arms, embracing him tightly. "I have never disliked you, Darrius. I didn't know you. I do now and I do like you as a person. I am proud to call you my son."

After a few moments, he released his hold on the young man and stepped back. He could feel the muscles unclenching in his neck and back at the slight shy, chagrined smile that graced Harry's face.

"Thank you," Harry said softly. An odd but not uncomfortable awkwardness settled over them as they both stood there. "I didn't – I don't – know what to think," he continued. His eyes turned up to Severus and he could see the bewilderment in the boy's heart.

"All I ask, Darrius, is that you remember I love you."

===============================================

The old stone castle was still and silent.

Arabella slept restlessly in their bed despite the sleep potion he had given her. His unsettled emotions were only disturbing her further, so he had left it in favor of a large overstuffed chair that sat across the room.

He stared across the room and located to a large tapestry that hung on the farthest wall. The Snape Tapestry, the family tree. In the darkness of the room, he could barely make out any of the details, but it didn't matter. He knew exactly where to find 'his family' – Bella, Harry and Hermione. Rising, he walked to the tapestry and briefly let his fingers drift over their names. Breathing deeply in an attempt to quell the gnawing anxiety that gripped him, he glanced back at Bella before he slipped behind the tapestry and placed his hand against the cold stone.

"Let me pass," he breathed in an ancient tongue, closing his eyes as he felt his body move through the wall. He exhaled slowly before opening his eyes to the suffocating blackness that enfolded him. "Light my way," he said softly in Welsh older than the Keep itself. A lone torch mounted on one wall to his right flared to life, casting dancing shadows on the steps that spiraled along the walls up and down. Slowly, he began to ascend the stairs, flight after flight until he reached the top of the tower. Speaking the command, he once again felt himself moved through the wall followed quickly by the warm and gentle breeze that wafted about the high parapet. Walking to the barrier wall, he looked skyward and wished he could suspend time and keep the sun from rising.

The moon hung large and bright in the heavens - a waning moon. He felt his lips curl into a frown at the site of the bright disk in the sky; another reminder of the news that had torn away the protective cocoon that sheltered his family. He cursed the MoM for their stupidity and prejudice and simple-minded fears. He cursed them for the anguish and fury Bella felt; pain powerful enough to rip through him the moment he had taken her into his arms to comfort her. He cursed them for the disgust, rage, sorrow and fear the news had evoked in Harry. He cursed them for the tears of grief and concern that had welled in Livia's eyes for Remus and her mother, knowing there was nothing he could offer that would ease the pain of his wife and children. He cursed the disillusionment of his children who had been forced to recognize the ugliness of their world. He even cursed the bloody Ministry for the confusion and discomfort Draco had suffered while dealing with a teary-eyed Livia while they packed to return to Hogwarts.

He stood there and watched as the blackness of the night slowly grew grey and the faint red line that separated the sky and the earth grew brighter. The only comfort he could find in the nearing dawn was that the wait would be over. He would be able to act now. He would be able to take the steps to secure his children's well being, both mental and physical instead of just planning.

If there were a single bright side to the whole situation, it would be in Bella's plans for Remus. She planned to offer to buy a house in Hogsmeade for Remus. Officially, he would merely be "house-sitting" for her in exchange for his services in tutoring the children and bringing the up to grade level and preparing them to take their O.W.L.S. In reality, he would be helping with the extra-curricular studies he and Bella had mapped out for them.

With a sigh, he turned from the rising sun and re-entered the castle. There was one more thing he wanted to do before it was too late.

Quietly, he walked down the corridor. When he reached his destination, he opened the door and slipped inside. Harry slept peacefully in the middle of his bed, curled among the mounds of covers. Severus was tempted to increase the fire in the hearth as he shivered slightly in the chilly air but he knew Harry preferred it colder. So, instead, he sat in the chair nearest the bed – a chair his son had dubbed "father's chair" – and watched the boy sleep.

"Papa?" Harry's sleep voice mumbled. The barely intelligible word curled Severus' lips slightly upward.

"Yes, Darrius," he replied softly.

"Is Mama still upset about Uncle Remus?"

Severus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Yes, Darrius," he said, "and she is likely to remain upset for a good long time. Go back to sleep."

Harry mumbled before rolling over and burrowing deep into his covers. A few minutes later Severus heard a faint "Goodnight, Father."

"Goodnight." Severus' whispered before shifting deeper into the chair.

The calm that set over him as he watched over Harry. After a short time, however, he rose from the chair and leaned over the bed. Gently, he kissed the back of his son's head before silently drifting out of the room. Following his usual pattern, he opened the next-door in the hall and looked inside to see the bed empty. It is what he knew he would find. He just shook his head and continued down the hall. He knew exactly where to find her. Two doors down, he pushed open another door to see an exhausted Hermione curled up facing a sleeping Draco, her hand wrapped around the blonde boy's. Out of habit, he entered and made his way to Livia's side. He stopped midway through gathering her blanket, before realizing just how close to dawn it was. After a moment of consideration, he wrapped the blankets more tightly around her and settled into a chair on the far side of the bed.

"She's been restless, sir."

Draco's whispered words caused him to raise his eyes away from his daughter's sleeping visage. The teen was watching both of them closely, his fingers still held, uncontested, in Livia's grip. "She feels so deeply, sir. I can feel her fear and anger … and the helplessness. It's like it happened to her, no Professor Lupin."

There was no bitterness or insult in Draco's use of Remus name and former title. It made him wonder just how strong the bond between the blonde and his daughter was. It was an unsettling thought, that he could be so attuned to her emotions.

"She is like her mother in that respect, Draco. She does not offer her affections lightly and once she accepts a person into her inner circle, she feels responsible for them. The healer in her makes her want to care for everyone, protect them and heal them. When she can not, it painful for her – emotionally and physically." He paused for a moment, looking pointedly at the joined hands.

"You are walking a fine line, Mr. Malfoy," he stared, forcing his tone to be both formal and polite, despite the protecting urges stirring in him. "You are both very young – emotionally. You lack the maturity to handle the bond that has inadvertently been forced on you both. You would be wise to not stray to far from the path of friendship. You will both have enough to deal with in coming years without adding love and all that comes with it just yet.

"Take my advice and be Livia's friend, a trusted friend, a companion – but not her boyfriend. Practice being a man; make your relationship mistakes with other girls - not my daughter. Just be careful not to make too stupid a mistake."

He watched as Draco slunk back a bit, shifting away from where Livia slept on the bed yet did not release her hand. Sitting back in the chair, satisfied he had made his point – at least for now – he closed his eyes until on a slit remained and guarded over Livia for the remaining hours until day would officially begin.

==================================

There was no smile on Bella's face as they walked together toward their new quarters within Hogwarts' walls, yet he could feel the faint breath of satisfaction she felt after their meeting with Dumbledore. A meeting that was met an untimely end with the arrival of Minister Fudge. His wife had smiled prettily at him, greeting him with the utmost propriety and totally thrown the man off his game. Fudge's face had paled immediately though he had covered it well. But then, how hard could it be to put on a façade of weak-minded ignorance and insecure, power-hungry greed.

"Is Lucius still planning on joining us for lunch tomorrow?"

"Yes, I believe so. Why?" Severus replied to his wife's inquiry. The curious but distant tone of her voice told him that her mind was turning over ideas in rapid succession. She could be as cunning and ruthless as any Slytherin he knew, the difference being in her motivation. Generation upon generation of High Priestess of Avalon, for that was in fact what Arabella was, had been trained to see the larger scope of the world and politics.

"Good. We need to make sure that Fudge doesn't see my return as threat to him in any way. I want him to think me the good little wife, concerned only with her husband and children."

"And you wish Lucius to drop a hint or two to that effect?" he said as they turned approached the staircase that would take them to the formerly forbidden third floor.

"Yes. It should be easily enough done so long as we make sure to remind him of Fudge's campaign against Avalon and the benefits Draco will receive from an Avalon education." Arabella said, her voice becoming crisp and formal, yet still smooth. Her words, or rather her voice, engendered a sense of confidence in her words. He often wondered if there was not some magic she had learned from her Grandmother – a Priestess tool used to guide and lead, to project faith and trust – or if perhaps it was just Bella. She paused in her step as soon as they crossed through the false door and into the long hallway.

It was the first time either of them had returned that day since the enchantments that had been placed on the third floor nearly a century ago to make them seem dangerous and foreboding had been lifted. The elves had made short work of the cobwebs, dust and grime. The fresco and murals that decorated the walls of the entrance hall had been returned to their full colorful glory and the polished white marble floors gave the whole area a feeling of life and an ethereal power. Glancing to see his wife's reaction to the change, he was surprised to see the bitter-sweat sadness on her face.

"What is it?" he asked.

She was silent for a moment as she stared at a mural depicting Ynis Whtryn – the Isle of Glass, better known as Avalon. Finally, she spoke, "I am going have ease standards, Severus. Allow in those unworthy to appease that self-important fool."

He remained quiet for a moment. There was nothing he could say; she was correct in her assumptions. The started walking toward their quarters again in silence, both isolated in their thoughts. As they turned the last corridor, he barely noticed the newly re-hung tapestries, a history of Avalon and magical Britain.

"Remus!"

The sound of his wife's happy cry at finding her friend waiting for her outside their door reverberated off the surrounding walls. He watched, agitated as she rushed forward, throwing her arms around the werewolf's neck. With the flash of jealousy and annoyance dimming, he walked forward and greeted Remus civilly.

"I got your letter," Remus said, pulling a think envelope out of his pocket after Arabella stepped back, "I don't know what to say."

"Say you will do it," Bella replied.

"It's too much," Remus began, his voice soft and hesitant.

Severus wasn't sure what it was, but the humble timidity of the man was something he had always found irritating. Remus, in his opinion, too often acted like a beaten dog. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that the wolf had been treated atrociously on several occasion and despite all of it, he could be trusted to guard Harry's secret. And there was the fact that he knew that in a short time, Bella was going to reverse the spell holding Harry's and Hermione's memories at bay. When that happened, they were going to need a neutral person to lean on, to go to for guidance. They would be comfortable with Remus and their comfort was more important to him at that moment than his own.

"It is not too much, Lupin," Severus half-sneered, his agitation showing, "It would give Bella great peace of mind knowing you are assisting in our children's education. I know Darrius and Livia will be glad of your support and presence, as well." He was prepared to go on, but the sound of good-natured bickering drifting down the hallway grew louder with each second.

"Really! I don't understand your obsession with that stupid broom." Hermione said, her voice clearly showing her exasperation.

The sound of Harry and Darrius laughter was loud and clear and followed closely by Hermione's excited cry of "Uncle Remus!" A blur of black hair and the scent of white flowers breezed past him as Hermione propelled herself at Remus. "Mama said she was going to ask you to be our tutor. Please say you will!"

Remus smiled softly at her, his glance fleetingly toward Harry. Severus turned to see his son standing just behind him, a faint but genuine smile curling his lips. Draco, who stood beside Darrius, had a slightly hostile expression on his pale face. There was a flash of curiosity in the young man's eyes though; leaving Severus to wonder at what affect his words the previous night had effected his reaction.

"Hello Livia," Remus said then turning toward Harry and Draco. He greeted Harry with a smile, but only spared a cautious glance for Draco. Severus felt his lips sneer at the damned wolf's obvious slight toward the young blonde. "So, Darrius, what do you think?" Remus asked.

"I think that I would be foolish to deny something my mother and sister obviously have their hearts' set on," Harry said smoothly and seemed happy but Severus caught the flick of his son's eyes as he glanced toward him, confused about the slight to his friend.

Bella laughed at his statement, "Okay, you three. Inside and upstairs. Draco, I expect you to lie down and get some rest. Darrius and Livia, I want you to work on your mediations."

"Yes, Ma'am," three voices chorused and automatically started walking toward the stairs.

He and Bella followed the teens into their quarters and then left Bella and Remus to their discussions alone. Heading straight for his lab, he indulged his need for order and solitude by spending an hour inventorying his ingredient stores and drawing up a list of what he would need for the next few months. He then spent several hours working on simple, but useful potions for the infirmary. When he was finished, he felt much calmer, focused – in control. In short, he felt better able to deal with Remus, who was likely staying for dinner.

"Ah! You're here!"

Severus looked up as he entered the rooms at the sound of the cheerful voice. Dumbledore.

"I was just talking with the others about this coming term." The older wizard motioned with his hand to Bella, Remus, Harry, Hermione and Draco. "I have brought the children's letters for the coming year," he said. "Now, as I was say, Draco, your parents informed me that you'd be receiving instruction with Arabella. I believe it would be wise to drop one of your electives to allow for the extra workload. That is, however, up to you and your head of house." Dumbledore's eyes moved from Draco toward Severus.

Annoyance flared within for a split second before Severus exerted control, squashing the reaction. "Of course, Headmaster," Severus said in a glacial tone. "Bella and I have had several discussion with our children and Draco about their studies this year and what is expected of them. When final decisions are made, we will be sure to inform you."

If Dumbledore was in the least taken aback at the coldness of Severus' tone, it was not openly evident. Severus' did notice that he seemed to hesitate just a fraction before smiling widely back at them, "Ah, good. Then I will leave this all in your capable hands. Now if you will excuse me, there is much I must attend to before the students return." With a nod of respect to Arabella, the Headmaster of Hogwarts left.

"Stupid old codger."

Draco's barely audible mutter drew his attention. For a moment, he had to suppress a smile. While he had immense respect and a certain fondness for the elder wizard, Severus had to admit there were moments – like now - when their personalities clashed strongly, leaving him feeling extremely vexed. With a mental sigh, he turned toward his young charge, prepared to reprimand him.

Arabella beat him to it.

"Draco Lucius Nigellus Black Malfoy!"

It was almost amusing how Bella's voice, both strong, adamant – almost viciously - and - ironically – soft, could have such a profound effect on the young blonde. Instantly, his shoulder's had straightened, his posture becoming perfectly erect and yet still Severus had the impression that he was retreating into himself. He had seen the boy react in the same manner before – when he was preparing himself for a dressing down by his father or by Severus.

"I don't ever want to hear such a comment from you again, young man. I don't care what you might think you know of the Headmaster; he is an intelligent, powerful and cunning wizard. He has seen, done and capable of more than you can imagine. You are in no position to disrespect him, especially when your opinion of him isn't even truly your own. I suggest, Draco, that you spend some time thinking about your opinions and determining which are truly your own and which have been bequeathed to you and influenced by your parents. "

Severus watched as Draco bristled like a cornered animal, hackles raised. "Are you suggestion my father is wrong?"

"I am suggesting, Draco, that you should learn to form your own opinions based on your own experiences. I have known your father for most of my life and I have known your mother all my life. I was there when they formed their opinions and in some cases, let the opinion of others dictate to them. I do not see them, or anyone, as infallible. I may not always agree with your parents, but I do respect their opinion in most matters." Bella's expression softened as she moved closer to Draco. With a half-smile, she said, "You have great potential, Draco, but you will only reach it if you are allowed and encouraged to grow beyond the walls set around you. You must know your own mind and heart and you cannot do that when it is clouded by the opinions and dictates of others – including myself. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded grudgingly, though his eyes were still weary and bitter. Severus could see him fighting within himself; the child within wanting to believe his parents – his father – knew everything and were always right and the man within pushing him to take his first steps toward being an adult. Glancing towards his children, he was a similar struggle in their eyes and knew Bella's reprimand had not been lost on them.

"Don't be so hard on him, Bella," Remus unexpectedly said, "He is young and has led a sheltered life. He is also very intelligent. All he needs is the chance to learn for himself."

"And I just want to make sure he takes that chance."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus nod. Severus' attention, however, was still locked on Draco.

"I will do my best, Lady," Draco finally replied to Bella. His voice was strained and it was easy to see how he was struggling with his pride.

Livia rose to her feet and walked over toward Draco. As soon as she took his hand, Severus could see Draco's body begin to relax. "Do we have time for a short walk around the grounds before dinner?" she asked her parents.

"Of course," Bella responded, "We will be having dinner in the Great Hall with the other staff members. Draco, will you make sure she arrives on time?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, a faint smile of relief tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Severus waved them out, but not before giving Draco a sharp glare – one he hoped would remind the young boy to be careful with Livia. As he watched them leave, hand in hand, he found himself oddly grateful that his children or at least Livia would have their memories back shortly.

A breeze drifted lazily off the lake, cooling the sun-heated skin on his face. Leaning back against the grass with his hand behind his head, Darrius Snape decided he was about as close to paradise as he was likely to get. The leaves, which rustled in the tree above him, blocked the glaring sunlight from his eyes. The lapping sound of water against the shoreline was hypnotically soothing. And best of all, there wasn't a single thing he was supposed to be doing at that moment.

When Draco had returned to his own home at the beginning of the week, Darrius was certain the remaining days before the term started would be dreadfully dull. As it turned out, there hadn't been a spare moment to even contemplate dull. Between his parents and Remus, he and Livia hadn't a moments waking peace. Four days of studying, review, papers and exams. The only two compensations were that they had one less year to "officially pass" and hours purposefully causing several cauldrons to explode under their father's watchful and, at times, over-protective eye. Father had called it a practical exercise in charms – shielding and directional hovering – and potions. In Darrius' opinion, it had just been plain fun. Especially when Father had been the one drenched in bright pink goop.

" Darrius Snape!" He groaned as his sister pulled at his arm. "You should be mediating, not sleeping!"

" I'm not sleeping, Livia," he replied. He didn't think he would ever understand his sister's compulsion to always be studying something.

" Could have fooled me. You're lying under a tree with your eyes closed."

" I'm clearing my mind," he said.

" Really," Livi replied sarcastically as she pulled at his arm, trying to force him to sit up.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and glared at Livia but allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position. "Fine, Ms. I-Can't-Just-Enjoy-A-Beautiful-Day," he said in a slightly bitter tone, "What do you want to do?"

Livia had already repositioned herself into her preferred meditation position. She opened her eyes just enough to stare at him through her eyelashes.

" Yeah, right, meditating," he muttered. He shifted to get comfortable before closing his eyes and beginning the breathing techniques his parents had spent the past year ingraining in him. He had just managed to clear his mind and was beginning the process of focusing inward on his mental walls when he heard the sound of feet brushing against the grass and approached them. Listening carefully, he recognized the footfall pattern and the familiar swish of robes: Father.

Snapping his eyes open, he rose to his feet gracefully and turned to face the approaching man, greeting him with a wide smile. His father wore his customary expression – stern. As he drew closer, Darrius' smile faded as he recognized the genuine displeasure that burned in the man's eyes. He felt Livia rise beside him. When her hand slipped into his, he knew she saw the same emotions in their father.

" Father," Darrius said, his voice relaying his concern, "has something happened?"

His father stopped in front of them, his posture relaxing just slightly. His eyes seemed to take measure of both his children. "The headmaster has made a decision."

Darrius didn't like the sound of tha; especially since something in his father's voice suggested he didn't entirely approve of the decision.

" Your mother will be taking you to King's Cross in an hour. You will ride the train to school with the other students."

" Why?" Darrius asked, both baffled and annoyed, "We're already here. What is the point in taking a six hour train ride just to get back here!"

Severus' scowl was enough to express his displeasure in both Darrius tone and attitude. "I believe the Headmaster feels it will give you an opportunity to get to know some of your classmates before they inevitably discover your parentage."

" Father, if students choose to dislike us merely for being your children, they can rot."

The corners of his father's mouth quirked up at Livia's uncharacteristically crude comment and his voice was softer when he began to speak again. "Be that as it may, you will be going. He has arranged for one of the Gryffindor prefects to meet you at the station. He will introduce you to your dorm mates for the first term. "

Gryffindor? Dorm mates? Darrius had a sinking feeling in his gut. The old Headmaster had mentioned earlier that he wished to place him and his sister in that house until they could be properly sorted after they had completed their first through fourth level exams. He had protested strenuously; the old goat obviously hadn't cared. His father gestured for them to walk and they fell in on either side of him as they strolled toward the castle. His could feel his shoulders tensing the more he thought of spending the next four months living among Gryffindors.

Not that he had anything against Gryffindors specifically; Uncle Siri and Remus belonged to the house and they were pretty cool. Even the Headmaster, when he wasn't being a meddling old fool, wasn't so bad. It was the prospect of this specific generation and their animosity for Slytherin. This was definitely going to cause tension in his friendship with Draco, not to mention the problems his friendship with Draco was going to cause with his dorm mates.

His father's arm wrapped around his shoulders and squeezed gently. He wasn't exactly sure how to describe how it felt or rather the way it made him feel. Safer? Like he wasn't alone? The simple reassurance didn't fix the problem or take away the worries the way his mother's kisses could, quite literally, fix the cuts and bruises of his childhood – but it was similar. Looking up at his father, who was still a full head taller than him, Darrius smiled.

His father was a good person. Yes, he could be brusque and Darrius had seen first hand how snide he could be, especially when dealing with certain people – like Gryffindors. His father could be stern, even harsh. And he definitely had a temper; Darrius had learned quickly not to test it. But under it all, he was actually a warm person with a very odd sense of humor. He was a good man – a good father. He was his father. Livia was right, if people decided to dislike him because they couldn't see past their own limited perceptions of his father – they could rot.

" Thanks, Papa," he said softly.

The trio's motion halted as his father and sister both turned quizzative eyes toward him. His father reached out, putting a gentle pressure under Darrius' chin until they met eye to eye and asked, "For what, Darrius?"

He was quite for a minute; he felt rather silly. Even Livia was looking at him with an odd, perplexed expression and she usually knew what he was thinking before Darrius did. Finally, knowing he would never find satisfactory words to express himself, he said simply, "For this last year. You said we didn't get along before, that was why you and Mum de-aged Livia and I – so that we could develop a better relationship." He paused then and looked away, unsure how to continue. Part of him wanted to throw his arms around his father and hug him, tell him he loved him like he had done a few short months ago. But then, he had only been mentally and physically a child. He felt his father's hand turning his face back again. There was softness in the man's black eyes that Darrius doubted many people had ever seen.

" I love you, Darrius. I will always be here for you," his father said just before he pulled him into an embrace.

" I love you, too, Papa," Darrius said into his father's shoulder.

They stayed like that for just a moment before separating. His father immediately turned and pulled Livia into the hug and whispered that he loved her, as well. Livia managed to reply in kind without getting to syrupy. They returned to the castle in a comfortable silence.

=====================================================

Mother was the one who took them to the station. It was suggested that she would cause less of a stir at King's Cross. Darrius, however, believed it had more to do with their introduction to Ron Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect and that house's hostile relationship with their potion's master. Fortunately, the meeting was fairly benign and the family, as a whole, seemed friendly enough. Ron had quickly found them an empty compartment, much to Darrius relief. He wasn't used to being surrounded by hordes of people, much less being stared at. It was an uncomfortable experience. As soon as the compartment door slid closed, Livia dropped into her seat, closed her eyes and began the practiced breathing techniques their parents had taught them.

" What are you doing?" Ron asked.

" Meditating," Darrius replied for his sister as he leaned back into the cushioned seat and closed his eyes. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would fall asleep and wake up when the train pulled into Hogsmeade.

" Why?" Ron asked. It took a second for Darrius to refocus his mind and realize he'd asked about the meditation.

" Because," his sister started to say in a voice that sound both tired and put upon. Opening his eyes, he felt his lips curl at the sight of his sister; she looked completely serene for the fraction of the second before her eyes snapped open and she turned her attention to the red headed boy sitting opposite her. "Meditation helps to build strong mental discipline which is critical to focusing and controlling magic effectively."

" Isn't that what wands are for?" Ron asked, his tone somewhere between general confusion and slight annoyance.

Livia sighed. Darrius took that as his clue to intercede before the poor kid got a lecture on the principles of magic and the use of wands. Sitting up straighter, he faced the boy. "Witches and wizards didn't always use wands and there are still some practical spells that can be done without one – if you have sufficient mental control," he said.

" So, that meditation stuff works?" Ron, his eyes a bit wider than before, asked awkwardly.

Livia took pity on him. "Yes, it works quite well," she said before closing her eyes and beginning her breathing again.

" So what was it like?" Ron asked.

Darrius sighed. He had just settled back and closed his eyes again. "What was what like?" Darrius asked, perplexed and annoyed by the question.

" Snape's home. I always imagined it as some creepy, dark, musty old place. I mean ... it is called the Dark Keep? Right?"

Darrius brow furrowed at the statement. He wondered if Ron was even aware of how it sounded to him; the lack of respect, not to mention the dislike clear in his voice when he said the name 'Snape.' And then there was the involuntary shiver that had run through the boy when he spoke of the Snape home as if they live in some kind of damp cave full of bats.

" There is nothing creepy, dark or musty about Tywyllwch," Livia said sharply. "It's a keep; not very large, but well protected. Father said it was older than Hogwarts, but only by two centuries or so. It was built in the aftermath of the Schism War when our ancestors decided it was not possible to live within easy reach of Muggles. "

Darrius notice a disapproving, uncomfortable look drift across Ron's features. "Do you have a problem?" he asked and hoped the question didn't sound quite as abrasive to other ears as it did his own.

" No," Ron said after a slight hesitation, "Not at all."

The way he fidgeted suggested otherwise which piqued Darrius annoyance. Both were saved from further confrontation, however, when the compartment door slid open to reveal a round-faced boy, flushed and panting from the effort of lugging his trunk. Beside him stood Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister.

" Mind if we join you? The other compartments seem to be full," Ginny asked.

" Sure," Ron replied. "Darrius, Livia – you've met my sister, Ginny. This is Neville. He's a fifth year Gryffindor, as well."

Pleasantries were exchanged as Neville and Ginny settled into the compartment. Closing his eyes, yet again, Darrius decided to join Livia in her meditative breathing. If nothing else, it might help him escape the awkward silence that had settled in the small, enclosed area. It wasn't long before the door slid open a second time. Giving up, Darrius opened his eyes to see an odd looking girl with straggling dark blonde hair and large blue eyes staring directly at him. For a moment, he thought she recognized him only to realize that her eyes just seemed to protrude in such a way as to make her appear permanently startled.

" I'm sorry, I was just looking for a place to sit," the girl said in a hushed voice.

" Its alright Luna, There's room, why don't you join us," Ginny said with a smile. Darrius shifted his gaze to the red head, eyeing her skeptically; she seemed too nice for her own good. "Luna, this is Darrius and Livia. They're new to Hogwarts. Fifth year. " Ginny said, then looking back at him, she continued, "This is Luna Lovegood. She's a fourth year Ravenclaw."

Just as soon as Luna had pulled in her trunk and stowed it under the seats, Ron stood and excused himself, "Listen, I have to get to the prefects' meeting. Ginny and Neville can fill you in on Gryffindor while I am gone. It should only be an hour or so." He smiled at them, his eyebrows scrunched up as if he was reluctant to leave or maybe a little worried. Eventually, however, he stepped outside and slid the compartment door shut and the uncomfortable silence returned.

Livia returned to her meditating. Ginny and Neville talked quietly as the train jerked into motion and started the long trip to Hogsmeade station. Darrius was left to either join his sister in meditation, make an attempt at conversation with the two remaining Gryffindors or stare at the upside down magazine the odd girl, Luna, was reading. Not feeling overly social, he slouched back against the seat and let his head fall to the side. He stared blindly ahead, dreading the next five hours. It was then that one of the pictures on the cover of Luna's magazine drew his attention. Sitting forward, he took a good look; he couldn't stop the violent shake that racked his body when he realized exactly what the images were – or rather who was in them. Reaching out, he snatched the magazine from the girl's hands.

" Hey," Luna said, both startled and annoyed.

Darrius didn't intentionally ignore her, but the pictures on the cover of the Quibbler wouldn't let go of him. The image of his mother captured his attention first; she appeared infuriated with a wild, desperate look in her eyes unlike anything he had ever seen. His hands shook slightly as he stared at her pained expression. It took several more moments for him to recognize the other picture as his uncle. The man he knew looked nothing like the feral, evil man depicted in the photograph. The headline above the images read, "Sirius and Arabella: As Black as their Painted?"

He remembered the story about his uncle; his parents had taken great care to explain to both him and his sister about what had happened to the Potters, how their uncle had been accused and sent to Azkaban and what really happened. They even knew about the escape and his current status as a fugitive. The headline suggested that his uncle might not be guilty; this was a welcome suggestion to Darrius. The fact that is also implied that his mother wasn't guilty of some charge was highly disturbing as it meant the wizarding world believed she was guilty of some crime. He had known there was a reason she had left the wizarding community, but it had never occurred to him that it had been as bad as the headline suggested. Flipping open the flimsy magazine, Darrius turned page after page until he found the two articles – one about his uncle and one about his mother.

" Darrius?"

His sister voice called softly to him as she gently touched his arm to try and draw his attention. When it didn't work, he felt her slid over on the seat next to him. He heard her sharp intake of breath as he skimmed the article on his uncle. He didn't know whether to laugh or scowl at the notion of his Uncle as some has-been band member. There was nothing laughable, at all, in the story on his mother, which suggested that she was nothing but a weak-minded pawn. The article claimed to have her final letter in which she described being placed under Imperious and how Sirius had betrayed the Potters to save her life. That, in the end, her guilt and shame over the fate of her brother and friends and her own ineptness had driven her into hiding.

" Its lies," Livia stated.

" I know there lies," Darrius replied angrily, "how can they print this rubbish?"

" Excuse me," Luna said indignantly as she grabbed the magazine back, "My father happens to be the editor."

Darrius scowled at her, though it had no effect on the blonde who had already buried herself in the magazine.

" Do you want to see what I got for my birthday?" Neville's shaky voice broke the almost hostile atmosphere that had taken over the small compartment.

Darrius looked over in time to see the twitchy boy pull out a prickly plant from one of his robes interior pockets. He smiled briefly as he looked at it, then leaned back and tried not to look like he was ignoring them. He was aware of the conversation droning on around him but his mind was focused elsewhere.

The fact of the matter was, the articles mere existence churned up a deep sense of anxiety and anger. The biased, twisted half-truths and conjectures strewn through out the magazine illustrated quite clearly why his mother had hidden him and Livia from this society. His parents had explained about what had happened, about the war and the Dark Lord and the fall out of his first defeat. At the time, the information had upset him greatly leaving behind a strong desire to see certain wizards suffer severe mortification and emotional distress – to make them endure the torment as his mother and father had. Now, he wondered how sanitized was the story they had been told.

" No!"

The sharp cry from his sister startled him out of his contemplation, leaving him with barely enough time to shift his attention and his reflexes to kick in. His arm went flying up to cover his eyes before he even fully processed where exactly the dark green jets of slime flying at him originated. Darrius waited, counting slowly to ten and trying to breath through is mouth to avoid the putrid stench. When he was sure it was safe, he pulled down his arm and shook it forcefully, finding only fleeting satisfaction in the sharp, splattering sound of the goop hitting the compartment floor. He closed his eyes and willed his stomach to quite rolling as he wiped the remnants from his face and hair.

" I'm sorry," Neville cried, "I did.. didn't th.. think it would be that ba..bad!"

Darrius stared at him through narrowed eyes. He was equally amused and alarmed when the boy slid back in his seat as far away from Darrius he could get. Before he could think much about it or question Neville on his reaction, the door to the compartment flew open to reveal a red-faced, wide-eyed Ron Weasley.

" What happened? I heard H.. Livia scr…" his voice trailed off as the alarm in his features mutated into a mixture of disgust and poorly concealed amusement. "What is that stuff?" he asked, sliding the door shut behind him while carefully avoiding deposits of the green slime.

" Stinksap. It’s from Neville's Mimbulus mimletonia – a defense mechanism, apparently," Livia said in a clipped done as she flung the ooze from her hands and arms and wiped her face.

" We'll be rid of it easily enough," Ginny added before retrieving her wand from the folds of her robes, "Scurgify!"

In a flash, the vile sap was gone, much to everyone's relief.

Ron dropped himself down in the seat next to Darrius and smiled, "Up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

" Sure," Darrius said feeling the first genuine smile curl his lips since the morning. He was surprised at how fast the time actually went once the group had actually started talking and playing games to pass the time. He was more amazed, however, by how quickly both he and Livia warmed up to the Weasleys and even Neville. It felt natural to talk on nearly any subject – from quidditch to their homes and families. It seemed only minutes had gone by before the boys were being unceremoniously ushered outside the compartment so the girls could clean up and change into their school robes and then vise versa.

As the train pulled into Hogsmeade, Darrius had to admit he was glad they'd made the journey. For the moment, life in Gryffindor Tower didn't seem so daunting. Even Ron's teasing about him allowing Livia to knit-pick over him - the fixing of his robes, removing of wrinkles, the adding hair controlling lotions to his chin length curls – was bearable, especially when she then turned her attention on Ron. The good-natured ribbing continued as the climbed from the train and helped the others get their trunks to the carriages. Even the disturbing sight of the Thestrals harnessed to the carriages was not enough to truly unsettle him. His father had warned him and his sister about the creatures that looked like an unholy mingling of vampire, dragon and horse. Ron's reaction to his comment about them and Luna's dreamy-voiced confirmation left him chuckling as he climbed in to the carriage after his sister and shut the door.

As their carriage began to move in procession with the others, he slumped back in his seat and smiled at Livia. He liked Ron and Ginny; they'd make good friends. Neville seemed kind and friendly, if a bit shy. Even Luna, though a bit of an odd ball, wasn't all that bad. Whatever lingering tension remained in his shoulders drained away as the dread he felt that morning quickly became nothing more than a faded memory. After all, he already had one good friend, Draco, attending Hogwarts and a good prospect for another and the school year hadn't technically started yet.

Maybe his father was wrong – or just being very pessimistic. So far, being both a Snape and a de facto Gryffindor didn't look like it would cause him or his sister too many problems. Who knows, maybe the majority of Gryffindors weren't so closed minded as his father thought and his and Livia's presence in that house would work out for the better. As the castle came into view, Darrius offered a mental apology to the headmaster for doubting him and calling him a meddling fool. Smiling to himself, he thought that maybe, just maybe, the old codger actually knew a thing or two.

And he thought things were looking up…

Even as the sound of conversation upon conversation filled the Great Hall and the students poured though the large doors, he began to realize he had been a bit too optimistic. It wasn't long before he and Livia were drawing quite a bit of attention; too much attention in Darrius' opinion. He smiled at a few he caught blatantly staring, if for no other reason than to see them squirm and in the process caught a few definitely hostile glances in their direction. Ron led them quickly to the Gryffindor table. They took their seats, flanked by both Ginny and Neville on either side with Ron across from them.

It was Ron who introduced them to the other Gryffindors – skillfully avoiding using their last names – and simply stating they were new students. He even explained that Dumbledore had placed them in Gryffindor for the time being.

It was then that he realized this wasn't going to be as easy as he had convinced himself it would be. Even with Ron's friendliness, the others seemed awkward and hesitant; like they were suspicious and looking for a reason to dislike or distrust him and his sister.

As more Gryffindors came in and took seats, Darrius turned his attention to the head table, scanning the teachers with his eyes. Most of them were familiar as he had met them earlier – all except the odd woman with the mousy brown hair that was held tightly away from her face by a wide pink headband and wearing the ugliest fluffy pink thing over her robes that he had ever seen. It looked like it had more stray hairs coming off it than that ruddy, fat tabby Dumbledore had given Mum and Livia.

" Check out Snape," some third or fourth year boy said a bit too loudly, "The git actually washed his hair. "

" I surprised he knew what to do with shampoo,"

" I bet the house elves got bored over the summer and ambushed him so he wouldn't get their nice clean sheets all oily."

Darrius did his best to ignore the comments. Hexing a bunch of idiot children would not be the best way to start in his new school. Instead, he directed his attention around the room; unfortunately discovering he and his sister were still the object of curiosity. Groaning he turned back to his table and the apologetic expressions of Ron, Neville and Ginny. He fervently wished everyone would settle in so the damned sorting could start.

Ron launched into talks of quidditch, and although it had been their main shared topic on the train, he welcomed the diversion. The conversation, however, didn't stop the odd comment about his father's suddenly clean hair - at least from their perspective – from registering. A tap on Darrius shoulder startled him a bit more than it should and he spun around to see a beautiful Asian girl.

" Is it true?"

Annoyed and more than a little confused by her question, he gave into the need to glare while suppressing the desire to snarl a snide reply.

" I'll take that as a yes," she said quickly before turning back to her whispering gaggle of cohorts at the Ravenclaw table.Glancing up at the head table, Darrius' eyes met his father's black gaze and gruff, menacing expression, yet to Darrius it was all but intimidating. He had learned over the past year how to see through that mask, to read the inconsequential details that slipped through. For instance, his father's head was cocked just slightly to the side, and though is eyes were narrowed – usually a sign of agitation or annoyance – his brow was furrowed a tad – an indication of concern and curiosity. As he turned back to face his fellow students at the table, he found all eyes – save the Weasleys – fixed on him and Livia. The Gryffindors wore a combination of expressions; some were doing fair impressions of goldfish, all bulging eyes and doing the open mouth- close mouth thing. The other fifth years, minus Ron and Neville, were ashen and their faces contorted in disgust.

Before he had a chance to react, however, great doors opened and the mass of incoming first years shuffled down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables in a mass huddle. Relief that the sorting was beginning temporarily distracted him from his ire, though not long. He listened intently as the Sorting Hat burst into song. Darrius snickered as it sang about the friendship between Gryffindor and Slytherin; the way the school was now, he never would have guessed. He wasn't surprised to learn, as the hat continued to sing, that the discord between houses started way back then.

…

When the Merlin and The Lady were indifferent no more

Fearing for that on Avalon's domain

Imparted a dire warning to the Four.

" Has our history taught you nothing?

From the Isle of Mists, the Lady cried

" You must stand together, not alone

To save Hogwarts, put your differences aside

For should you heed us not

The Goddess will not bear this division

Banished you will be from land Holy and Hers

Head our warning – restore your vision.

The words shocked him, and he could tell from the murmur around him, that it was news to others as well. She could almost hear his sister scoffing about no one reading Hogwarts: A History, the book that was her latest obsession. He would have to remember to ask his mother if she held such sway over this school.

After nearly an hour, the sorting ended leaving Darrius to turn his attention to the food that suddenly appeared on the table, hoping to avoid the spectacle threatened earlier. Unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards.

" Do you think he's Snape's son?"

" I don't know. That's what the Ravenclaws said. They heard it from the Slytherins."

Ron chose that moment to restart their quidditch conversation - again– much to Darrius relief. He was peripherally aware of Ginny starting a conversation with Livia and was grateful she would have a distraction from the crudeness around them.

" Shame. He's not that hard to look at."

" Neither is she."

" They obviously take after their mother in looks. Maybe we'll be lucky and they got her personality, too."

The outside conversation broke through his debate with Ron about brooms and he turned for a moment to a glare at the oblivious, offending parties. Closing his eyes, he reigned in the desire to throw a hex or two down the table; it wouldn't really help matters, even if it did give him temporary satisfaction. He wanted to push away his plate, his early hunger quickly turning to nausea with each disrespectful and contempt-ridden word that drifted down the table to him, but it was a satisfaction he was unwilling to give. Instead he, he steadily forced his fork to his mouth and swallowed bite after bite.

" Uhghhh!"

" What?"

" Think about. What kind of woman would let him touch her, much less have sex. Just the thought… Yewhh!"

Two forks dropped loudly to their plates.

" Thank you so much for that image!"

" I've lost my appetite."

Darrius just sat there, looking straight ahead and straight through Ron as he lowered his own fork quietly to his plate. He tried to concentrate on clearing his mind and body of the riotous emotions bubbling in him. He felt his sister slip her hand into his and squeeze gently. Glancing toward her, he noticed her down cast expression and how she pushed her food around her plate, not eating. Beside Livia, Ginny seemed to be doing the same aside from the occasional brutal stabbing of her fork. As if feeling his gaze, Ginny lifted her warm brown eyes toward him and offered a small, apologetic smile. Oddly, he found it comforting that this virtual stranger felt such compassion for him and his sister. Ron's reaction, however, was what truly surprised him.

" Where you all raised in a barn or are you all just that stupid and self-centered?" the redhead prefect practically bellowed. Even without glancing toward the High table, Darrius knew the eyes of his parents and a few of the teachers were trained on him and his sister. He could imagine the narrow-eyed scowl of his father and the momentary flash of indignation and protective anger from his mother. He wondered if he turned around - would he see Draco watching them with concern, as well?

A soft tap on his shoulder drew him out of his musings. Turning he found himself looking straight at the chest of a young woman. Drawing his eyes up slowly, he was pleasantly surprised to be looking into the apologetic and slightly ashamed expression of a natural beauty. Her sun-kissed blonde hair was held back from her face by a series of twists and clips, her complexion was fresh and lightly bronzed and her eyes were a clear blue.

" I'm sorry, " she said as soon as Livia had turned around. "My behavior was reprehensible. Please accept my apology for any discomfort or hurt I may have caused."

The girl spoke with amazing sincerity and Darrius found himself smiling and accepting far easier than he would have normally.

" I'm Lavender Brown, by the way. I'm a fifth year, as well."

Darrius returned the introductions and watched her return to her seat as the optimistic feeling began to return. Turning back to the table, he was greeted by others with the decency to appear chagrinned and embarrassed by their behavior. A few of them even managed to display their "Gryffindor" courage and looked up to meet Darrius' eyes and offer an apology for their rudeness. Gradually the noise began to return to the room. Darrius and Ron returned to their quidditch talk and were joined this time by the other boys sitting nearby. Beside him, he could make out the amicable conversation of Livia and Ginny.

Darrius realized, as he finished off his dessert, that dinner was nearly at an end and that he had actually enjoyed the meal, once the initial ugliness had passed. He was actually regretting it was nearly over – until that ugly, little woman in the ridiculous fluffy pink sweater interrupted the Headmaster's closing speech for a diatribe of her own. The woman – Professor Umbridge's – incessant twittering, however, turned out to be easy to ignore and he diverted his attention to watching his parents. He glanced at his father first; he seemed to be "pretending" to pay attention, his "school scowl" firmly attached to his face. His mother, on the other had a pleasant, engaged and yet vapid look on her face as she listened and watched the short, pudgy thing in her self-important chest puffing speech. Oddly enough to Darrius, his mother's expression seemed extremely false. Not that anyone else would know that. He couldn't even put a finger on what gave it away, aside from the fact that his mother, in general, never looked affable, much less dull-minded.

He turned his attention back to the droll little woman, wondering what she could possibly be saying that could agitate his mother to the extent she felt it necessary to completely mask her thoughts. He felt the odd tingle of magic quickly followed by a barely controlled burst of agitation. Reaching back, he grasped his sister's hand again, hoping to lend her a bit of his control even as he through a quick glance toward Draco. The brief second their eyes locked was long enough for Darrius to confirm the other boy had felt the surge as well. Unfortunately, as he turned back to the head table, the pudgy troll was taking her seat.

Dumbledore was quick to dismiss the student body after a few concluding words. As soon as those around him began to rise, he turned to his sister and studied her concerned expression.

" What the hell was that about?" he asked in a hushed voice.

" Not sure, but it sounds like the Ministry is trying to interfere with how the school is run."

" You don't think it will have anything to do with Mum and the instruction in the old ways she plans on resurrecting?"

" I hope that is all there is to it, Darrius," she replied. "Mum can handle them if she has to."

Darrius glanced up toward the staff table, where his parents were talking softly as they climbed down from the dais and moved to the side entrance reserved for Professors and staff. At the same time, they looked over toward him and nodded slightly. He smiled back, squashing ruthlessly the desire to go over and hug them both.

" Come on Darrius," Neville's voice interrupted his thoughts, "We'll show you to the dorm. Ron and Lavender have to lead the First Years."

With one last glance back at his parent's, he offered his arm to his sister and followed Neville and the others from the Hall.

Friday, September 26, 1995

He felt the strong arms of his father lift him from his place, curled up in sleep on the study sofa before the fire.

"Papa?" he heard his own soft, sleepy voice murmur.

"Go back to sleep, son. Papa's home now," his father replied in the deep, soothing tones. His Papa's velvety tone and the way he smelled were the first two things that broke through his dreams – good or bad. They were the embodiment of safety. The shadow couldn't hurt him if Papa was there.

"I love you, Papa," he whispered as he cuddled deeper into the man's thick black robes. His father's reply, tinged with sadness, was the last thing he heard before surrendering into the safety of sleep.

"I love you, too. No matter what, I always will."

"Master Darrius, please wake up. You will be late to training if you don't get up now."

It took him a minute to orient himself in time as his eyes opened. Dark red drapes surrounded his bed and he most definitely wasn't four years old any longer. He had that dream again, and while the dream itself was far from disturbing, the fact that he had it every night for the past week was. The feeling of dread that accompanied waking from him grew stronger as the week drew to a close. It was as if something inside of him was trying to reinforce or remind him of the closeness he shared with his father now, like his unconscious self was afraid that it would be lost.

Which, he supposed, could actually be the case. Two weeks into the term, his mother had begun the process of restoring their full memories. For all the complexity of the spells, it was a rather simple process. The memories were time released to the subconscious during sleep. The memories were, however, total blocked from conscious recall. His parents had a long conversation with himself and Livia, explaining how the memories often return out of order, out of context and at times incomplete. So, for two weeks, their memories returned in their dreams and faded as they woke while their minds worked to reconcile and accept them.

It was odd, even scary sometimes. There were mornings when he would met Draco by the lake for their morning training and feel a split second of completely irrational hatred for the blonde boy who had been nothing but a friend to him. Or how he could look at some of this dorm mates first thing in the morning and feel like he had known them for years, not a little over a month. Which is why the dream upset him so much – he knew the things he had been feeling where echoes from his suppressed memories.

Their parents had encouraged them to talk about the feelings and confusion they knew would were part and parcel of the restoration – but stressed that they ONLY talk to one of them or Remus. Part of him wanted to go to, hell, wanted to run to talk to his mum or father and tell them about the dreams. Suspecting, as he did, the cause of the dream, Darrius couldn't stand the thought of deliberately causing his father that kind of pain. He didn't want his father to know that a part of him hated him so desperately that his subconscious felt it necessary to constantly remind him that he loved his father as well. Especially when tonight his mother was removing the final blocks and by tomorrow morning he'd remember everything. He saw no point in prolonging the discomfort for either of them.

"Please Master Darrius. Miss Livia is already up!"

"Alright, Winky. I'm up. I'm up," he mumbled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and gratefully took the proffered clothing that Winky offered him. Smiling down at the anxious little creature, he leaned over on impulse and placed a small kiss in the middle of her forehead. "You’re a good elf, Winky. Thank you for taking such good care of me."

"Master is too kind. Winky just doing Winky's job."

"Winky does her job very well and Darrius is very glad to have Winky around to look after him. Now run along and tell Livia I will be right down, okay?"

"Yes, Sirs. Winky will do," the little elf said practically bouncing about the room before popping out.

Darrius laughed softy, something about that house elf always seemed to cheer him up. Quickly he slipped into the odd garments his mother had chosen for him and his sister to use for their more physical exercises. The outfit consisted of long, loose, wide leg pants held up by a tied drawstring around his waist. The top was a long robe-like garment; only my more tailored and reaching only knee length with slits up the side seem from knee to waist to allow for a full range of motion. Seamus Finnegan said he looked like something out of a Muggle Chinese martial arts films – only the jacket was a bit to long, there was no sash around his waist and the outfit was made out of silk.

Slipping on his shoes, he made his way down to the common room to find his sister waiting for him. No sooner had he greeted her than Winky reappeared again, bearing to additional sets of clothes.

"The Lady asks me to give these to you for Mister Ron, Mister Neville and Miss Ginevra. Shes is saying you should bring them with you this morning. The Lady wants Young Masters and Misses to meets her by the lake in half an hour."

After a quick exchange of raised eyebrows and a shrug of shoulders with his sibling, each took a set of garments and turned to go back up the stairs to wake their perspective targets.

While waking Neville was easy, waking Ron turned out to be far easier said than done, but he managed to get his dorm mate up and waited as he dressed. Darrius and Neville had to restrain from laughter at the startled gasp the red head emitted when the outfit automatically shrank to fit his body. Fifteen minutes after he had headed back up to fetch his dorm mates, he was once again in the Common Room waiting for his sister and Ginny.

"I wonder what this is all about?" Ron asked.

Turning toward him, Darrius couldn't help but smirk about, "Not sure Ron, but you could always read the note in your pocket."

"huh?" Ron muttered and then patted his chest. Feeling the outline of the note, he mumbled an "oh" and pulled out a short note.

About the same time, Livia and Ginny arrived in the room.

"He just found the note, huh?" Ginny commented. "It just from Mum explaining why she asked Lady Arabella to accept us early for training. Something about her family, the Prewetts, having been part of Avalon as far back as they have records. Since we are they only descendants of trainable age, she wants us to carry on the tradition."

"Thought as much, " Neville chimed in, "Gran mentioned she would be petitioning your mother to accept me as well. She's taught me all she is permitted already but always hoped your mother or the Merlin would surface in time for me to be officially trained and sworn to Avalon. "

Darrius nodded, it made sense. Since term had started, their – his, Livia's and Draco's – training had taken a new turn, focusing as much on helping train others as their own personal training. It was logical to select others to early with a similar background and family support – like Draco.

The taught of Draco led to a mental groan. So far, Ron and the other Gryffindors hadn't given him much trouble over being Draco's friendship and Draco hadn't really done or said much about his friendship with is dorm mates. Darrius wasn't sure how long that would last if he had to deal with both friends at once. Ironically, Draco and Ron were much too much a like in several ways, which combined with family biases probably explained why they disliked each other so strongly.

As they stepped out of the room, he felt his sister slip her hand into his and he turned to give her a wary smile.

"I should probably warn you three that, at the least, Draco Malfoy will be present. He has been training with us for months." Livia said looking more at Ron than Ginny or Neville. "Please don't let him bait you or start anything on your own. Mum doesn't tolerate tempers or arguments. And unlike my father, Mum's bite is far worse than her bark."

At Livia's statement, Ron snorted earning him a glare. Darrius just shock his head. As they approached the lake they could see Draco waiting along with a reed-thin blonde girl – Pansy. He could almost hear his sister's mental sigh of resignation. Draco, Ron, Pansy and her were a volatile combination at the best of times. In the last three weeks alone, there had been six clashes between the four of them. Pansy, who was dating Draco, was more that a bit threatened by Livia – or rather by the betrothal between her and Draco. Then there was Ron, who seemed equally displeased with the arrangement and for the life of him, Darrius couldn't really understand why.

Luckily, his mother was also approaching followed by four other students. Almost immediately – to his great relief – his mother set Livia, Draco and himself off down the lake to begin their typical morning routines. By common and quiet consensus, the trio moved just far enough not to hear what the new students might say or ask.

He fell into the familiar series of motions; the deep bends and stretches, the balancing and sweeping movements with relish. He enjoyed nothing more than the exhilaration of the blood rushing through his limbs, the feeling of grass, dirt under his feet, the warmth in his muscles and the tangible tingle of magic he could feel as his mind expanded and sought it out. Eventually, the exercises were completed. A glance toward his mother and her bunch showed they were still in the early stages of the exercises.

"Let’s take a walk around the lake," he suggested. He didn't wait for a reply, just started walking. It was oddly comforting how the others just fell into place, Livia in the middle. The strolled quietly for a bit, each stuck in their own thoughts.

"It's really bothering you both, isn't it?" Draco asked softly. "You think your old memories will have that much of an impact?"

Darrius was quiet; he didn’t know what to say. Truth was that was exactly what he feared. Glancing at Livia, he noticed her down cast eyes and tearful expression and stopped in his tracks. Livia looked at the both with a sad smile on her face. Her black eyes glittered with unshed tears. Darrius wanted to curse himself, Draco, his parents and everyone else who had any part in causing those tears; he hated when Livi cried.

"Sometimes, when I wake up, my eyes burn. Like I've been crying in my sleep. And I feel so small – young, scared, confused," she paused and looked to Draco, unconsciously moving closer to him, "Like the day we met you, Draco, and you pulled me from Father. I had nightmares about that day at first. This feels the same, only I know its not that day. There's not shelter, no embrace, no focus to pull me away from the darkness so it just gets bigger and deeper. All I want is my parents. I need to see them, to know they are okay. And when I do, it's like an embrace. I feel safe and loved. And I have this urge to just hug them," Livia said, laughing slightly even as her eyes filled with tears.

The really scary thing was, her words were sticking cords. The images and feelings weren't exactly the same, but they were damn close. More than close enough to bring his fears flaring into his heart and mind.

"But then, there is this emptiness that surfaces. And guilt. So much guilt. " Livia expression distant and sadder than suddenly cleared. "And then its gone, like it was never there. " Livia ended softly and Darrius found himself nodding, even as he stared blindly beyond this companions.

The trio stood silent and still for a long moment. Then Draco stepped forward, the motion drawing Darrius attention. The blonde's expression revealed little, but Darrius wasn't surprised when he pulled Livia into his arms and hugged her briefly before kissing her forehead gently.

"I'm being silly," Livia said trying to smile for the both.

"No you're not!" Darrius said insistently.

"He's right, Livi." Draco replied. "I wish I had the words you need to here. Just remember that there are people who care; that I care"

Darrius regarded his friend closely. He wasn't sure whether he should be concerned or comforted by the intensity he saw on Draco's face. He could feel the stirrings in the magic around him; the connection between Livia and Draco was obviously alive and well. Draco, however, had a girlfriend and he loathed the idea that his sister could get hurt or caught in the middle.

The change happened quickly, like always. Livia and Draco connection seemed to snap and suddenly "cocky and cool' Draco was back in full force, "Besides, the past is the past. Why fretting over it? Can't change it. Besides, you've got it better now, anyway."

Livia shock her head and rolled her eyes at him, but the small smile that crept to her lips anyway.

"We better get moving." Darrius said after a few silent, uncomfortable moments. "Mother will likely be needing us soon."

= = = = = = = = = =

Darrius dropped on to his bed and yawned wide enough he could feel the skin stretch around his mouth. Thanks to his mother, he was exhausted. She'd run them ragged all day helping with the new students. He knew the weariness would help to overpower the anxiety he had about what exactly he would be remembering and let him sleep.

"Come in," he called tiredly at the sound of a soft knock on the door.

The door opened with a soft creak to reveal his father's thin frame.

"I heard you had a tiring day," His father commented.

"Very," Darrius replied, trying to stifle another yawn. "Was it that hard to teach us? I don't remember having so much trouble."

A slight smile curled the corner of his father's lips. "You had your challenges," he replied smoothly. "You, if I remember correctly, couldn't remember to turn to your left. You would always turn to the right," he said as he entered the room and sat beside Darrius on the bed, " and managed to knock into your sister quite a few times. You also had a hard time understanding some of the finer details though you seemed to have a natural grasp on them. Livia on the other hand, had a problem with letting go off the details and learning to feel her way through."

They fell silent until Darrius found the courage to speak, "It's going to be bad, isn't it. I can tell you are worried."

His father was silent, then turned to face him. His black eyes were a maelstrom of emotions. Finally, in a whispered word, he said, "Yes. I think it might be."

Again, silence engulfed the room. Darrius shifted uneasily beside his father wanting to deny his words. He wanted to declare that no matter what he remembered, it wouldn't damage his relationship with his parents. He felt his father's hands stroke his hair and turned to look at him. Instead, he found himself leaning into his father's embrace, letting his head fall against the man's shoulder. He relaxed as the man's arms tightened around him, enfolding him in a feeling of shelter and security that, at the moment, he relished.

"Try to remember, Darrius, that there is nothing in the world more important to me that my family – you, your mother and sister. I would do anything to protect you – ALL of you." His voice was soft but tight. He wasn't the type of man who usually confessed his emotions openly. Darrius wasn't surprised when his father pulled away and stood up, reasserting his usual stoic demeanor. "I brought you two potions. One is a simple sleeping draught. It won't interfere with your dreams; just assist you in falling asleep and staying asleep. The second one is a calming draught. Please take it in the morning. It will help you while you process and accept the returned memories."

"Are you ready?" his mother's rich, melodic voice asked.

Darrius nodded and stood as she approached. In an ages old pattern, she turned down his bed covers and patted the mattress. Like he had done for as long as he could remember, which granted was only a year, he climbed under the covers and allowed her to tuck him in. His father approached next and held out a vial for him to drink. He felt the warm tug on his consciousness almost immediately as he settled back against the pillows. His mothers warm fingers brushed against his hair just as her mind brushed against his. It was a comfortable sensation and he wasn't afraid. The welcoming, spicy scent that always floated about her flooded his senses as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

"You will always be my baby. I love you. Don't forget that," she said.

"Love you, " he mumbled as the potion took stronger hold of him. He was too tired to even contemplate any meaning or subtext behind her word. The bed shifted as she rose from the bed. His father leaned over him next, kissing his forehead.

"I love you, son," he whispered.

"Love you, too, Papa, " Darrius replied in a slurred, sleepy voice before curling on his sided and surrendering to the sleep.

September 27, 1995 – Saturday

He awoke as the first streams of light invaded his room on the east side of the tower and cursed himself for not having drawing the curtains. With a sigh, he rolled over and did his best to keep his mind clear – empty. He wished he could just go back to sleep, delay the inevitable just a bit longer. His body was far too restless to allow him a lay-in. Climbing out of bed, he grabbed his robe and walked over to his fireplace. Sitting down the rug before the fireplace, he started his meditation exercises. Even as his mind fell into the familiar, calm state, he knew his buried memories were waiting to be discovered. They were like slumbering monster, much like Fluffy, just waiting for the trigger – that final musical note to end before awakening.

Fluffy.

The giant, vicious, three-headed dog.

First year.

The stray thought flooded his mind, drowning Darrius Snape under the resurgence of Harry Potter.

Harry sat, his legs still folded in his mediation pose, too scared to move, his breathing shallow as old memories assailed his conscious mind at random. It took a few moments before he returned to a functional conscious state. In a flash, he was on his feet and grabbing the calming potion his father had left.

His father. Snape. Oh God.

The pain, anger and fear at the discovery of his true parentage warred for dominance over the giddiness, security and simple joy of his "childhood" memories and the hazy, but contented feelings associated with his 15th birthday. As shudders ran though his body, he climbed back up onto his bed, pulling the covers over his head. He could feel the potions effect on his body; with each breath his mind relived events as it sorted them but all the associated memories were thankfully dampened. When his breathing returned to normal, he climbed off the bed and walked to one of the chairs close to the fireplace. For a long time, he just sat there, staring at the dancing flames and let himself sort through emotions and memories. It's what Mama had told him to do – let it come, let himself remember all the pain and all the joy. To let his conscious mind and his heart find their own way.

Mama -- the very thought brought fresh pain, guilt and love. His mum – his REAL mum - had died for him and he loved another woman in her place. He loved his mum – Lily – with all his heart, unconditionally – but only as a distant, pleasant and comforting memory. She wasn't his "real" mother any more. Truth was, she hadn't been for a long time. Arabella had assumed that role so completely; she was the one who wiped away his tears, who watched over him. She was the one who guided and disciplined him. New wave of guilt assailed him, tears streaming down his cheeks, even as his mind told him there was no reason to feel guilty.

Thoughts of Lily soon drifted to James and though he expected the same type of guilt and grief to settle over him, he found himself simply missing him, missing the chance to know him and thank him. It was bittersweet, though oddly peacefully feeling. To know that the man had loved his mother and him as much as he did him feel oddly safe. Harry remembered the adoption spell being reversed, remembered the sense of losing the last small part of James. He wondered, in his potion induced calm introspection, if the love his step-father had used in the spell hadn't protected him, shielded him and nurtured him years after James' death. Even now, he could feel the loss of that spell, yet it didn't fell wrong. If he was honest with himself, he felt like freer, like a bubble he didn’t' realize was surrounding him was gone.

The true liberating realization, however, was that the sense that his parents loved him. Growing up, before the Hogwarts letter that changed his life, he had always imagined his parents had loved him as much as Dudley's loved him. In his daydreams, James would talk and play with him; hug him and kiss him goodnight. He always imagined that somewhere out there, James loved him. And he had been right – more than right. He had two fathers who loved him.

Harry's thoughts came around again to his father, his biological father – Severus. Yesterday, he worried over his father's distress. He thought his father was over reacting, but now, with his memories intact, he fully understood. Staring ahead, as if hypnotized by the dancing flames, he tried to reconcile "the greasy git" not only with the warm, affectionate man he had known in private this past year, but also with the man he had begun to know in the brief weeks after school let out in June.

He needed to talk to someone. Glancing at the wall that separated his room from Livia's room and wondered if she was up to talking to him or if maybe she needed someone to talk to, as well. Deciding to take the chance, he walked over to the bathroom door and quickly crossed into the room and went straight to the door that led to her room.

Knocking softly, he waited for a reply and then, not receiving any, gently pushed the door open. The room was quite a bit brighter than his own as the heavy draperies were drawn back letting in the early afternoon light. Hermione or Livia, he still wasn’t sure how or who he thought of her as, was sitting on her window seat, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring off across the campus. He was surprised when she turned and smiled softly at him.

Uncurling her legs, she rose and came toward him. Without hesitation, he crossed the distance, pulled his adopted sister into his arms. Knowing how he felt over replacing Lily so easily made him wonder over his friend turned sister's reaction, not to mention added an additional layer of guilt to his own.

Hermione - Livia - pulled away from him and studied him for a moment with red puffy eyes. He watched, almost amused, as the bossy portion of her personality emerged,

"Don't you dare feel guilty! None of this is your fault. We talked about this remember? I read all the spells in detail. I had a very good idea of exactly what would happen and I accepted all of it before drinking that potion on your birthday. "

Taking his hand in hers, she drew him over to the sofa before the fire and pushed him down into the soft cushions. Sitting next to him, they cuddled together, finding comfort in the understanding silence that enveloped them. Admittedly, Harry was immensely relieved to find Hermione – Livia seemingly strong, well adjusted and dealing so well with the situation. He smiled as she shifted slightly against him, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder.

"What was it for you?" Hermione's hushed voice, filled with both curiosity and uncertainty, filled the room that was silent save for the crackling fire.

"Fluffy," he replied softly, not having to even wonder at her meaning.

"Fluffy?"

He felt himself smile and one of the many knots in his chest loosen at the bafflement in her voice. Even with the black hair and feature changes from the spells on her, her voice and expressions, at times, were still completely "Hermione." Hearing that particular tone, more than anything, left him with a sense that everything would work itself out.

"I was thinking about how the damn memories were like some slumbering monster – like Fluffy – who would awaken when the music stopped." He said. As he spoke, he repressed the sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "It all came back then – really slowly at first, a trickle. Then it was like a breaking damn." Shaking off remembered pain, he turned to look at Herm…Livia. LIVIA, he mentally scolded himself.

He had always thought black eyes were cold and evil; yet looking into Livia's dark eyes, he could see her concern and empathy. The blackness was comforting and he remembered, in that moment, his father's eyes were the same.

"So, what was it for you," he asked softly, knowing she needed to talk as much as he did.

Livia lifted an ebony box with silver hinges and handed it to him. He took it curiously, watching his sister closely. She hadn't looked at him while handing over the box. Instead, her eyes had been fixed on her lap, at her unconsciously wringing her hands. Even with her hair covering her face, he could see her gnawing on her lower lip.

He could see the confusion over the mix of anxiety and hope, love and hate that flowed across her features as she avoided his gaze. More importantly, he could feel the emotions washing over him. Lacing their fingers together, he remembered all the lessons Sirius, Remus and his father had drilled into him – that the most important thing he could ever learn was how to support and aid his sister. He suspected, now as he thought of them, that the lessons had a deeper purpose. However, the face value of having learned those skills was more than enough for now.

With a squeeze of her fingers, Harry cleared his mind and then drew up happier sensations – feelings of love, understanding and tranquility and fed them back to his sister. The answering tug at the corner of her lips was more than enough reward.

Carefully opened the box and almost chocked.

"Whoa," the odd gasping sound escaped him in a gush of air, followed closely by a compulsive cough.

Inside the box rested one of the most beautiful, yet unpretentious necklaces he had ever set eyes on. It was comprised of a long chain made of a fluid, silver-like metal that was intricately engraved, yet elegantly simple in its design. Suspended at the heart of the necklace was a teardrop shaped crystal of the emerald green. Had he not been holding the box in firelight, he probably would have assumed that it was an exquisite, yet not overly large, emerald. The way it reflected light and colors in a perfect, prismatic way – like a perfectly cut gem and the subtle but definite inner luminescence told him there was more to this gem than first blush indicated.

"Where did you get this, Livi?" he asked, his eyes not straying from the glistening crystal.

"Draco," she said softly. "He wanted me to know he was there if I needed him."

Darrius felt her lift her eyes to watch him. He could literally feel her presence like a separate current of magic running through him. It stuck him then how different – even on a fundamental level - his relationship with Livia was from the one he had with Hermione. Like he had could see his life only in the reflection of a Muggle car's side mirror – his friends had seemed much closer than they actually were – at least, on his part. Looking up at her, he smiled softly and handed back the box. Livia took the box back and held it open before her. One elegant finger hovered over the gem, not quite touching.

"He gave it to me yesterday. It’s a talisman of sorts. The chain and setting was his maternal grandmother's; it's been in the Black family for generations. The enchantments on it go back seven hundred years. The gem is from the Malfoy collection," quickly she flipped the gem over to show him the engraved crest on the gem. "I'm not sure how – I didn't ask – but he imbedded his or rather our emotions from a single moment. When I touch the stone, I can feel him -- Draco and felt for me in a single moment he captured."

She blushed bright red as she said this and he couldn't help but stare at her perplexed as to what she found embarrassing. He could feel his own blush burning his face as he let go of her hand, as it suddenly occurred to him what she could be alluding to.

"Does it disturb you?" Harry asked and waited.

Livia sat quietly for what seemed to Harry a long time. He tried to sit still as she gently brushed her fingers against the stone. When she looked up at him, her brow slightly furrowed and her lower lip caught firmly between her teeth. He tried to smile reassuringly at her seeing her confusion. It occurred to him as she quickly shut the box and set it way from herself, then scooted back into the sofa and curled her legs into her chest that perhaps it wasn't the gift that disturbed her so much.

Just maybe what upset her was that the stone didn't disturb her and instead brought her comfort.

"It's okay to like him, Livi." He said softly, trying to hide the uncertain waver in his voice.

She just looked at him blankly for a moment, then suddenly her lips quirked with bittersweet humor. He forced himself to wait her out quietly. She reached for the necklace again. Slowly, careful she pulled the necklace out and set it against her robe-covered knee. He watched as her fingers touched the stone, lingering there. Her face softened slightly, her eyes unfocusing or perhaps focusing on something he couldn't see. She smiled softly and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Harry saw such hope and confusion that he couldn't resist reaching out to gently touch her cheek and wipe away her tears.

"He cares so much for her."

He felt his brow furrow in concern and confusion at the statement. "For who?"

"Livia." She said.

"Uh, love… that would be you," he said, his voice soft and almost hesitant.

"No. Livia is a beautiful pureblood. When Moth," she paused, "when they told me about the bond and what it would mean, I thought it was so romantic. Stupid, silly child." She laughed a bit bitterly at that before continuing softly. "Worse yet, a part of me really wishes I could be the person Draco thinks I am."

Her voice had grown so soft on the last words, Harry had to strain to hear them. She sat there, quiet except for the occasional sniffle then suddenly let out a harsh snort, "Imagine the fit Ron would have if he heard me say that. I don't think he would ever forgive me."

It was a thought Harry had been trying not to entertain. Ron was his best friend and he knew that his hatred of Draco and all Malfoys ran to the unreasonable. He was having enough issues trying to reconcile "Draco" and "Malfoy" on his own, much less try and find a way to make Ron understand. Looking back at his sister, seeing the girl who he usually went to for answers look lost and confused, however, convinced him to push his own concerns aside.

"Livi, I don't think you have to worry much about Draco. Last year, I would have told you to forget him; if he judged you poorly because your parents weren't pureblooded wizards, than it was his loss. I don't think that's the case anymore, though. I think there is more to him than I ever gave him credit for before. He can still be a world-class prat, though. " He paused for a moment, praying he was right. "As for Ron, I have to believe he will come around in the end."

Hermione – Livia – smiled at him, but before she could say anything there was a knock at her bedroom door. Harry watched as his sister slid off the sofa in one smooth, elegant move. He was struck again at how different she was from the girl he had known last year. She moved differently now – she had Arabella's grace. The door opened, and he could see Ron's hopeful and slightly nervous expression.

He rose to his feet, watching the hopefully and uncertain expression on his friend's face. A burst of trepidation and hope washed over him as he studied his friend and his sister.

"Her..."

"Ron!" Harry said sharply, drawing his friend's attention. "Livia's had a rough morning. She could use a friend besides her Big brother to talk to ..."

"Baby," Livia shot back.

"Big," Harry replied, not loosing a breath then turned back to Ron, "Take care of her, Ron, okay? Now, I am going for a walk." Livia tried to interject something again but Harry cut her off, "Nope. Big brother's know best and that's all I am saying." Harry walked out, ignoring Ron's befuddled expression.

"Darrius, wait, I wanted..." Ron called after him.

Harry tried to pretend he hadn't heard him. It had occurred to him that the strength of emotions he felt hadn't been fully his. Livia need time with Ron. Stopping suddenly, he turned and faced them. Trying to imitate his father's glare as best he could, he stared down Ron.

'Hurt her, Weasley, and I will hurt you," he said, his eyes still narrowed. Seeing his sister amused expression and Ron's eyes widen in shock, he laughed and smiled, "Have fun, you two," he said cheerily and walked off.

Ron's voice drifted to him as he neared the end of the hall, "I swear, Livia, he's gone mental."

With a soft chuckle, he walked down the stairs. Same old Ron; it was a comforting thought. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.