(Some Hours Later, Kitchen Table at Grimmauld Place)

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully for the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place. Because they had not yet received their O.W.L. scores, they did not know what their summer assignments were. It had been a relaxing afternoon and evening found Harry and Ron battling it out in Wizard’s Chess while Hermione and Ginny discussed some triviality (at least according to the boys’ perception). Molly hummed to herself as she went about preparing dinner and Arthur Weasley read the “Daily Prophet” in a chair at the head of the kitchen table. The twins would be joining them shortly, and Bill and Charlie soon thereafter. And Percy…well, that was best left untouched.

He had yet to apologize to his family, and Harry was not entirely sure he would at all.

But the young Gryffindor quite firmly shoved those memories to the back of his mind. They were not of the most pleasant sort, and dug up the even more painful memories he had somehow managed to pent up thus far. Memories…of Sirius. When he was alive.

Harry shook his head violently. No. No. NO! He had promised himself he would not dwell on it, had promised Ron and Hermione! He could not---

“Mate?” that was Ron, and he sounded a bit concerned.

Looking up at his best male friend and forcing away the memories, Harry managed to smile, “Yeah, Ron?”

The other teenaged boy peered at him. “You okay there, Harry? I lost you for a minute.” He could feel Hermione’s and Ginny’s eyes on him now, too.

Harry, however, was spared from answering when the fire on the kitchen hearth suddenly roared and flamed bright green. Startled, all the kitchen’s occupants stopped what they were doing and quickly turned to face it.

One rather irate form dressed entirely in black stalked through the flames, swearing liberally. Harry found himself quite surprised in the next minute when that form actually marched *across* the floor and threw itself into the chair directly opposite him (Ron sat in the chair on his right) with an exasperated sigh.

“Honestly, Potter, how can you *stand* those relatives of yours?!” one highly frustrated Severus Snape demanded, obsidian eyes locking for a moment with the fifteen-year-old’s emerald ones, before he pressed the heels of his palms against them, elbows on the table, and muttered, “Damn Muggles. And Petunia…! Merlin’s Beard, how I wish she had never even *heard* of that Dursley!”

Harry, however, was finding this situation entirely too amusing. He laughed softly, albeit a bit uncertainly, “Er…nice to see you again, too, Professor.”

Severus raised his head long enough to glower balefully at the teenager, before going back to cursing the Dursleys in all manner of different languages.

A quick glance at the girls and Ron revealed they were just as amused and perplexed by this entire scene as he was. “What happened, I wonder?” Ron mused beneath his breath.

Harry wordlessly shook his head. The man across from him was acting *most* un-Snapelike, and that in itself was incredibly amusing. He did not dare remark on it, however, as it had been a full two weeks since he had seen this particular teacher last, and they had not exactly parted on the best of terms. The letter he had received only much earlier this morning, and as yet, was not quite sure of his footing with the other.

Harry sighed softly. Yet another thing they had to talk about.

Severus, while showing no indication that he had heard Ron’s whispered remark, *did*, however, stop his tirade and look up at Harry’s sigh, silently quirking an eyebrow at the teenager in a questioning manner.

A bit startled by the attention he was receiving from the Potions Master, Harry blushed and dropped his head slightly, gazing up at the Head of Slytherin through wayward dark bangs. He was about to hazard an attempt at explaining when the fire roared again, this time admitting both Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin.

Unconsciously, Harry stiffened as the two arrived, not quite ready to face the memories that came with them.

Consequently, it was quite an odd look he received from the Potions Professor who, true to form, did not miss even that slight detail.

The blush on the young Gryffindor’s cheeks worsened when he found himself the object of not only the older wizard’s scrutiny, but his friends’ as well. He shook his head slightly, although whether it was at the Professor, his friends, or both, no one was quite clear, not even him. All that was clear to Harry was that he was not ready to do battle with his emotions, yet.

Further exploration into the matter was halted, however, when the Headmaster’s eyes lighted on his Potions Master. “Severus, dear boy, there you are! How did it go with the Dursleys?” remarked jovially as Remus came around the table and gave Harry a careful hug.

The glare the Potions Professor laid on the venerable wizard would have made anyone who was *not* the Headmaster run for the hills. As it was, he only smiled. “You make me go to that blasted house again and I *swear* I will hex you!” the Head of Slytherin spat.

Albus’s blue eyes twinkled. “Now, now, Severus, she *is* your cousin.”

This announcement was met by startled gasps from all four of the Weasleys and Hermione. Harry merely shrugged when his friends looked at him in shock. It was not news to him. He glanced up at Remus, still rather uncomfortable, but not surprised to find that the werewolf looked completely unaffected by the revelation. He had figured the man had known for much longer than he himself had.

Of course, when Ron, Ginny, and Hermione realized this, their expressions immediately turned accusing. “Why didn’t you tell us, Harry?” Hermione demanded softly.

The boy flinched slightly, but nonetheless answered firmly, gaze steady, “It wasn’t my place to say it, ‘Mione.”

Their quiet conversation had by now caught the attention of all the adults.

“And why not, Mr. Potter?” Severus asked, voice neutral.

Harry surprised himself---and evidently, the Potions Master, if the brief flicker of shock in the man’s obsidian orbs was any indication---by meeting the older wizard’s gaze openly and straight on. “Because I have wronged you enough, Professor.”

The normally unshakable man across from him started slightly at the steady answer. Nothing else was said for a few moments and Harry shifted uncomfortably, aware that practically the entire *kitchen* was staring at him. At last, the Head of Slytherin found his voice, “Mr. Potter, we have already made our apologies. And I gave you that information *willingly*. I am going to assume that it was your idiotic Gryffindor honor which made you keep quiet about it, but please do bear in mind that if I give you information it is for a reason.”

Harry blinked in shock at the stream of words, before giving a crooked grin that did nothing to dim the sudden brightness of his eyes. “Then you assumed correctly, sir.” Abruptly, he turned to Molly Weasley. “Mrs. Weasley---” he began.

Mrs. Weasley interrupted him, smiling gently. “Harry, dear, it’s quite all right to call me Molly.”

Harry grinned slightly. “Molly,” he conceded, before continuing, “is there time before dinner to get Professor Snape’s letter?’

“Well, I don’t see why not. Go ahead,” the woman responded.

The young man quirked a grin at her. “Thanks.” Before he stood and swiftly left the room. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron quickly followed suite, the other teenaged boy hollering as he exited the room, “Oi, I get first dibs!’

The adults heard Harry’s somewhat faint, rather amused reply, “All right, all right! Just so long as you don’t tear it!”

The adults watched them go, the Weasleys, Remus, and the headmaster with amusement and Severus absently, a faint, somewhat awkward smile on his lips. /I made him that happy, did I? First time for everything, I suppose,/ he thought, remembering the look in Harry’s eyes. He just was not quite sure how he felt about that.

Severus was brought out of his stupor by Remus Lupin wearily lowering himself into a chair beside him. “Thank Merlin for small miracles,” the werewolf muttered.

The Head of Slytherin raised an eyebrow at him. “Remus?” he queried.

Startled by the usage of his first name, the lycanthrope quickly looked up…and was unable to hide a tired grin at the look on the Potions Master’s face when he suddenly realized what he had called him. “Why, Severus, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Shut up, werewolf,” growled, but with absolutely no ire behind it. Faint blush touched his cheeks momentarily before quickly being forced away. “So are you going to spit it out or not?” demanded. He did not *dare* look at the Headmaster.

Remus grinned widely a moment before replying, “Well, since you asked so *nicely*…” Severus merely rolled his eyes. The werewolf sighed, his smile fading as he became serious; his amber eyes took on a haunted look, “I know you hated Sirius, Severus, but Harry *loved* him. When he…died…Harry retreated into himself. Numb, not responding to the outside world like he was supposed to. He was desperate to find out if Sirius could come back in any form, even asked Sir Nicholas about ghosts if I’m not mistaken. It wasn’t healthy, the way he was acting two weeks ago.” Remus shook his head sorrowfully. “And I’m not entirely sure how he’s going to react to the news I have for him.”

“What news?” Harry asked, re-entering the kitchen with Ginny, Hermione, and Ron in tow, the latter gaping wordlessly at his best friend and the Professor, the two girls grinning widely. Oddly enough, those smiles made Severus even more uncomfortable than the male Weasley’s expression.

Then Harry plopped down in a chair at his right side, opposite to Remus who was on his left. If possible, Severus felt ten times more uncomfortable when the teenager did so. No, he most definitely was *not* used to this.

Hell, he knew how much of a bastard he was. That was no secret. Fronts rarely *were* secret. But in the span of a day, no less than five people---and all Gryffindors at that---had been granted permission by him---*consciously*---to see the man he once was. That exterior had been a defense mechanism for so long, and he had not quite comprehended how raw and vulnerable he would feel when he dropped it. Even now, he was beginning to have second thoughts on the matter. But…there was Harry’s letter to consider…not to mention his own…

The other children had since returned to their places across the table and their expressions had yet to change. Severus was therefore very grateful when Remus cleared his throat, re-directing the quartet’s attention. “Harry?”

Harry looked at the werewolf, Severus suddenly reflected, with slight apprehension apparent on his youthful features. “Yes, Professor Lupin?”

“Remus, Harry.” He was silent a moment, then took a deep breath. “Harry…yesterday I received a letter from Gringotts…”

The young Gryffindor stiffened slightly. “What did it say?” breathed unevenly.

Severus cast a sidelong glance at him. The teenager did not seem to notice.

“Apparently, Sirius’s vault was split in half between yours and my own. Furthermore, in his will, he stated that Grimmauld Place was to be given to you should he happen to…pass away…”

Harry’s response was dramatic.

“*What*?!” the demand was sudden and the fifteen-year-old shot to his feet, successfully startling the entirety of the company gathered in the kitchen. “Sirius’s money?! His *house*?!?!” the teenager was shaking. No. No. No. No. NO! He didn’t want this! He didn’t want any of it!

A hand was place cautiously on his arm. “Potter?” Severus queried softly, frowning lightly at the minute tremors he felt running through the young man’s body.

“Harry, he only wanted to make sure you would be well taken care of if he wasn’t around to do it,” Remus advised him gently, even though the teenager had started shaking his head halfway through.

“No! I don’t want it!” exclaimed. “I don’t *want* it!”

“Harry!” Molly Weasley sharply rebuked. He jerked his head in her direction, eyes wide and pained. “That’s simply how it is! Sirius cared for you, why do you deny him that final wish?”

“I don’t need the money! I don’t *want* the money! *You* take it, and take the house! *Please*, Mrs. Weasley! I don’t want it!” Abruptly, he turned to face Severus (who still had his hand on the young Gryffindor’s arm), eyes wild. “Tell them I don’t want it!” And then, jerking out of his teacher’s hold, he all but fled the kitchen, leaving stunned silence in his wake.

Not a soul in that kitchen moved for a long, endless minute.

Then a kettle boiling on the stove whistled shrilly…and broke the spell that had fallen.

Several things, then, happened at once. A thoroughly drained Remus Lupin dropped his face into his hands, trying unsuccessfully to hide tears that wanted to be shed. Albus looked far wearier than Severus had ever seen him, a sharp remorse on his face that he did not understand. Ronald Weasley jumped to his feet as Molly hurried to tend the kettle, and Arthur stared at a page of the “Daily Prophet” without really reading it. The two girls looked ready to follow the teenaged boy’s example.

No one was in any position to go find Harry, not the way they were acting.

So with a resigned sigh, and not so little uncertainty, Severus calmly stood to his feet. To the boy, he ordered neutrally, “Stay here, Mr. Weasley. I will find him.” Then he silently glided from the room, leaving a sputtering Ron in his wake.