Harry had never been hustled to his father’s quarters so fast in his life. Dumbledore had barely ordered the entire school back down to the Great Hall when Severus had appeared at Harry’s side, grabbed his elbow and, with his famous black wand being used to move people bodily out of the way, nearly levitated his son down to the dungeons and through the oak door to their personal quarters. Harry had been so stunned, he hadn’t even protested before he was dumped on the sofa.

Harry watched wide-eyed from the sofa as Severus, his robes billowing in his long-strided wake, checked all the wards in the rooms, strengthening some around the floo and windows and making sure Salazar did not let anyone enter from the classroom office. Severus took a moment to check on his son, who had retreated into his old knees-up, cram-himself-into-the-corner-of-the-sofa stance as he watched his father, in his eyes, wig-out. Severus sighed as he moved to stand in front of the floo, giving Harry his full attention now that safety had been assured.

“Harry, you’ll stay here tonight,” he insisted, placing his wand back up into his wrist holster. “We know that Black is after you, and he has somehow managed to get into the castle despite all of our safeguards. Do not leave these rooms – he could be anywhere in the castle. Do you understand?”

Harry’s burgeoning Adam’s apple started bobbing up and down as he swallowed reflexively in fear.

“Y... y... yes, Dad,” he answered. “Where’s Draco?” he felt all alone in the rooms, especially as he knew his father would be leaving soon.

Normally, staying alone in the dungeon quarters did not frighten him, but tonight was an exception. Despite all of his father’s protections, he felt vulnerable and exposed – a feeling he thought he had gotten over. He reached over with his right hand and ran it reassuringly over the bulge under the sleeve of his left arm where Silicia was trembling.

“He’s with all the other students, bedding down in the Great Hall. This is the safest place for you tonight while I go and help to find the traitor.” Severus came closer and knelt in front of Harry, placing both hands down on the sofa on either side of his son, looking him straight in the eyes. Harry relaxed with the gesture, bringing his legs down to sit Indian fashion on the cushions. “Please, Harry. Don’t leave here. I’ll be back before morning, I promise you. To be honest, I think he is long gone – but better safe than sorry, eh?” he asked, raising one hand to run his fingers along the side of Harry’s face. Harry nodded and Severus patted him once on the cheek before rising.

“Get some sleep, Son. It’s been a long exhausting day. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Harry watched his father leave through the door, hearing the squelch of a sealing charm secure the door tight. Nothing would get past it now until his dad released the charm. It helped to release a modicum of his tension.

He got up and padded down the hallway to his bedroom, changing quickly into pyjamas and doing his nightly ablutions. He had taken to placing his long hair at night into a single plait that hung half-way down his back so that it wouldn’t become such a chore in the morning to get the snarls out. He looked at it tonight, wondering how long he would grow it but finally grew bored with the question. He did study his body some in the mirror.

He was beginning to fill out with the workouts he and Draco were doing, and he thought he was finally gaining some height although Madame Pomfrey and his dad both thought he would never gain Severus’ height. The years of malnutrition had taken their toll, despite Lily’s glamour dissipating and Severus nearly force-feeding him the nutritive potion last year. But, he thought, he might make a decent final showing by the time he was done growing.

He really wished he wasn’t spending most of the night here alone. This thought kept spinning through his head, along with “Why me?” He never could come up with a decent answer.

Sighing, he nox-ed the lights in the loo, then headed over to his desk and pulled out his current journal. This was one of the ones he had received at Christmas time from Draco. Making sure Silicia was coiled far enough up his arm; he turned to the next blank page in the notebook and began to write about his adventures today and his thoughts on Professor Lupin and Sirius Black.

I don’t know why he bothers me, but he does. There is something that he is not telling me; something important. I don’t think I could really trust him until I know what it is. I know it has to do with me or my mum, somehow. He gets this odd look in his eyes sometimes when he looks at me. Sirius Black scares me too. How could someone who is supposed to be your best friend betray your entire family to Moldy-shorts? What did the murdering bastard promise Black anyway to ensure he would hand over James, my mum and me? I just don’t understand.

I wish Dad would get back soon. It’s scary down here when it is only me. Especially on a night like this. Did you know that tonight is the anniversary of mum and James death? Twelve years ago tonight. I haven’t mentioned anything to Dad, I’m too afraid to. I don’t want to remind him. Maybe we need to talk about it soon.

He finished up his ramblings, capping the biro and tucking it in the spine of the notebook. He went to lie down on his bed, but he kept tossing and turning. He tried Occlumency, tried mentally running through katas... nothing worked. He was too far on edge. Eventually, after nearly tangling himself in the covers, he grabbed his defence textbook, the duvet off his bed and went back out to the sofa.

 He stole a look at the clock on the mantel. Ten o’clock. He watched as the hands flipped over to the hour and listened as they played the Westminster chimes and tolled out the hour. Eventually, he wandered to the table and tapped it with his wand. A snack tray shimmered into place. Smiling, he carried it back to the sofa, placing the tray on the short table. Fixing a plate of warm biscuits with fresh icing in the shape of pumpkins, witches on brooms and nebulous ghosts, and a glass of ice-cold pumpkin juice, he sat back in the sofa, wrapped up in the duvet and cracked open his Defence book.

****

After seeing that Harry was settled in the rooms for the night, Severus joined the hunt for Black – although he suspected that the man had escaped. All the teachers took turns either watching over the children sleeping in the Great Hall - looking as if the floor had turned into a strange, choppy purple ocean - or searching the castle.

Eventually, around three a.m., Dumbledore declared that it was useless to continue searching; it was obvious that Black was no longer in the castle. Disgruntled, Severus returned to his quarters to find Harry sprawled on the sofa under a comforter from his bed. The remnants of a snack tray graced the sofa table and his defence book hung limply from his fingers as they dangled over the edge.

Chuckling to himself, the professor closed the book – placing it on the table, banished the tray, and woke his son up just enough to stumble down to his room.

“Dad?” Harry asked as Severus held back the covers for the boy to crawl under. “Did you find him?”

“No, he already escaped,” he said, sighing. “Harry, where were you this afternoon?” his father asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

 “Draco and I met up with Professor Lupin after lunch and he invited us in to his office to talk. He said he wanted to get to know us better. He said you approved of us meeting him. We were there until dinnertime. Why? You sent back along the link that it was all right.” Severus patted his son on the knee reassuringly when he noticed that Harry was agitated by the implications in the question.

“I know; I wasn’t entirely sure where you were at the time. Lupin had asked if he could talk to you and I reluctantly agreed. I was just checking. Someone helped Black into the castle – of that I’m sure. I suspected it might have been Lupin, but he wouldn’t have had time...” He shook his head as the thoughts whirled through it, never quite coalescing. “Never mind. It’s still night, you need to go back to sleep.” He held the covers up by their top edge as Harry slid down to curl up on his side. Severus placed the cover back down, patting down the edges to ensure proper tuckage.

“Why would he help Sirius Black? Wasn’t he essentially betrayed by Black?” Harry asked after yawning.

“The Marauders were thick as thieves, Son. There is no telling what they would do for each other. But, it was just a suspicion. Now, do you need help sleeping?”

Harry hesitated a moment, then nodded his head.

“Let’s try your Occlumency then. Start your breathing, that’s right...” Severus led Harry quickly through the relaxation and Occlumency exercises they had set up as a nightly routine and Harry Snape was soon asleep.

****

The talk, the next couple of days, centred around the portrait attack and the fact that Professor Trelawney had apparently stated in class on Friday that the Grim was stalking Harry. Ron was absolutely convinced that Harry was going to die soon until Hermione pointed out that Harry had to see the Grim before he could, and Harry hadn’t seen anything like a Grim – a huge, black dog-like creature – since term had started.

Ron left it off with, “You’ll tell if you ever see one, right, Harry?”

Harry placated his friend with a mumbled, “Yeah, sure, Ron. If I ever see a Grim, I’ll tell you.” Ron jumped as a bolt of lightning, with accompanying thunder, streaked across the reflected sky of the Great Hall.

“Bloody hell, is this weather ever going to let up?”

“Language, Ronald,” Hermione chided automatically. She was trying to eat her sandwich and read from her Arithmancy book at the same time. Harry just shrugged.

“I don’t know – but Oliver reckons it’ll be just like this on Saturday for the game, so we’re practicing nearly every night this week. He’s graciously giving us Friday night off so we can get some sleep!” he said sarcastically.

Ron grimaced as he thought about practicing in this weather. He patted Harry on the shoulder in sympathy. “Better you than me, mate.”

 Draco came over then with Boot and Goldstein and they all headed up to Defence Against the Dark Arts. They were quite surprised when they entered the classroom and discovered Professor Snape instead of Professor Lupin standing at the front of the room.

Draco and Harry shared a look and immediately headed for the front centre pair of desks, pulling out their books as they took their seats. Severus spared them an indulgent look then refocused on the rest of the students filing in and grumbling at the change of teacher.

A wave of his wand, and the doors shut behind the last student with a clang and his characteristic spidery writing began to appear on the chalkboard behind him.

 “Turn to page 394 in your textbook, we are studying werewolves today.”

Hermione’s hand immediately hit the air, and the professor rolled his eyes but allowed her to speak.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Sir, where is Professor Lupin? We were supposed to start red-caps today,” she added helpfully.

“I am aware of what you were supposed to start today; however, we are having a change of topic. Professor Lupin is ill and will not be back teaching until next Monday,” he snapped out.

Groans met this statement, except for Harry and Draco who looked like Christmas had come early. “Now, turn to page 394, THIS INSTANT!” and a flick of his wand opened those books that had not already been turned to the correct page. Ron muttered a curse under his breath behind Harry, and Harry was hard pressed not to snicker. Really, Ron should know by now that Snape always meant business when it came to teaching. He brooked no dissent in his class, whether potions or defence. He may be nicer when in a social setting with his sons and their friends, but not in the professional world.

“Now, who can tell me the differences between a werewolf and an Animagus wolf or common wolf?” He ignored Hermione’s hand, hoping someone else would raise theirs. Finally Harry, Draco and Neville raised theirs.

“Very well, Mr Longbottom; give us two of the differences, if you please.”

Neville stood up slowly; keeping his eyes pinned on a spot behind his professor. “A...a... werewolf has a tufted tail, and... and cannot choose whether or not to change. He must change when the moon is full...” His eyes got very big then and he immediately dropped to his seat.

“Insightful. Two points to Gryffindor. Mr Potter-Snape, what are two more features?” he directed at Harry.

“A werewolf’s snout is more pointed, sir, and the eyes tend to be yellowish instead of blue or brown,” Harry rattled off. He and Draco had studied creatures all summer long, and they had both been fascinated by the werewolf.

“Very good, two more points to Gryffindor. Now the history of the werewolf dates as far back as the early Egyptians...” He began his lecture, taking up the rest of the period, and assigned an essay to be turned in on Monday on how to identify a werewolf, its common characteristics, and how to defend yourself if you were ever unfortunate enough to be around one who had changed. He knew this would be an easy assignment for his sons, so he held them back and assigned them a different project: Lethifolds and Dementors.

“But Dad, it’s Quidditch on Saturday!” Harry whinged. “Oliver has us out every night this week...” He stopped when he saw the look on his father’s face quickly turn to thunderous, and Draco elbowed him in his kidney. He hung his head murmuring, “Sorry, sir.”

“You have more than enough time to research and write this essay, Mr Snape,” he said with contempt for his son’s behaviour evident in his tone of voice. “Now, you better both be going – I won’t write an excuse for you to your next class!” he dismissed them, and both boys took off running.

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you?” Draco asked as they headed for the intersection where they parted ways.

Harry grinned, “Always!” He waved his hand as they separated and headed for their respective classes.

****

Friday night, Harry was heading back from the library when a movement down on the grounds caught his attention. He hurried over to the window, cranking it open so he could peer better on the moonlit grounds, thanking Merlin that the moon was full tonight and he was able to distinguish shapes better.

As he watched, a small shadow detached itself from the edges of the forest and wandered along until it met up with another huge black shape, a humongous dog, who greeted the smaller shape like a friend. Harry’s mouth nearly dropped when he realised that the smaller shape was Crookshanks. But who was the dog? It wasn’t the same shape as Fang, Hagrid’s hound – although it was probably close in size. This one seemed as black as ink, blacker than the shadows it had been hiding among. It almost looked like... Ron’s description of a Grim.

But Grim’s were supposed to be shades, hell-hounds, not something as mundane as a big dog that had made friends with a half-Kneazle. He watched a moment longer until they disappeared back into the forest, and it started sprinkling again, forcing him to close the window.

He was just imagining things. He shook his head to himself and continued on to the tower. He had a game with Hufflepuff tomorrow, and he needed to get some sleep.

****

The Kneazle slipped out the Gryffindor portrait hole following some fifth-years heading to the library. He eased his way past the students and trotted down to the unused classroom that he had found the night Sirius had come in. He had been pleased to discover it looked out over a covered walkway. An added bonus was that the room had Harry’s scent all over it, as well as his sibling’s. Apparently, they came here often.

 The window in here was simple to open as it was cracked open already and just a push of the paw widened the gap. The drop was just a few feet to the roof; easy for an experienced roamer like Crookshanks. From there he travelled the length of the roof top, his pads and claws finding purchase on the rain-slicked red tiles, and jumped onto a branch of an old Rowan tree conveniently planted at the end of the walkway.

He scrambled down the tree and leapt from the lowest fork in the trunk to the springy, wet grass below; heading off down the slope past Hagrid’s cabin and muddy vegetable garden to the woods beyond. The rain had stopped for a while, but the wind was still whipping around, ruffling his fur as he scampered along the edge of the dark trees, leaving rain filled paw prints silvering in the full moonlight behind him. Rumbles of thunder echoed through the forest foretelling of a future downpour. Minutes later, he met up with Sirius.

The dog was waiting for him, pacing, clearly agitated. They greeted each other then Paddy led them into the forest to their little glade. Crooks padded up to him and rubbed against his forelegs until he lay down and they greeted each other.

“Well, I messed that up, pretty well.” The dog complained.

“You had to try, Paddy. Now they have a new portrait – at least until the Fat Lady is restored.”

“I’m sorry about her, I was just so frustrated! What about the rat?” he enquired.

“Hiding in the dorm room. He hasn’t come out in ages, and Ron won’t bring him near me. Seems to think I have it in for poor ‘Scabbers’,” he said amusedly.

“You think?” Paddy chuckled along, lolling his tongue out the side of his mouth. “So that’s what they call him, huh? ‘Scabbers’…”

“Fits him too, his fur is falling out in patches, and he’s all scabby and thin. Seems to be suffering from a nervous condition…”

“Yes, we’re his nervous condition!” The two animals had themselves a fine old time laughing over Peter’s condition, but after a while, Paddy laid his head on his paws and sighed. Crooks rubbed up against his head in comfort and began washing his friend's muzzle.

“What’s got you down, Paddy?” he softly asked a few moments later.

“I wish I could see Harry.” His brown eyes softened as he thought about his godson. “I haven’t really had a chance for a good look at him.”

“Go to the match tomorrow,” suggested the Kneazle, a gleam in his eyes.

“Quidditch match? Harry is playing this weekend?” His ears literally picked up at this, and his tail started wagging, scattering fallen leaves across the wet forest floor. “I wonder if he is as good as James? Or me?” he mused. “I would love to see him fly…”

“That is all they’re talking about in the common room – this weekend’s match. They were supposed to play Slytherin, but their seeker is injured – although Harry says the boy is faking it – so they are now playing Hufflepuff. You can hide in the stands and watch from there – with this weather, a lot of students will be staying inside…” As if on cue, a huge flash of lightning lit up the glade, followed by a deep boom of rolling thunder, and large drops of rain began spattering down, matting the animal’s fur.

“Pyewackit, you are the smartest cat there is! That’s a wonderful idea!”