(Several Hours Later, Living Room)

Dinner had come and gone, and the Order of the Phoenix meeting had just adjourned. Severus found himself sitting in an armchair and gazing contemplatively into the living room’s fireplace where the flames danced and wove on the hearth.

He had managed not to think about it---*too* much---during dinner. And was even successful in ignoring it during the Order meeting---*mostly*. But now, Harry’s words and memory came back to haunt him with a vengeance.

Nymphadora Tonks and Remus, along with the Headmaster, had elected to remain for a cup of tea after the Order meeting, along with Bill, Charlie, and the Weasley twins. Harry and his three friends were in the kitchen now with them, having some cinnamon biscuits and hot cocoa courtesy of Molly Weasley.

Severus had elected to sit alone by the fire in the living room, although a steaming cup of orange-flavored tea and a biscuit sat beside him. Molly had insisted, as he had not eaten terribly much for dinner, in spite of the fact that Albus---he was fairly sure---kept piling more on his plate. And who was he to go against the Weasley matriarch?

Then again, the Potions Master reflected, he was not one to eat much, anyway. Something that concerned Albus to no end. The Headmaster seemed to think he was (and had been for years) intentionally starving himself, and claimed that he was far too thin. Severus knew he was correct---not that he would tell the older man.

The Head of Slytherin huffed softly.

Now it appeared Harry had noticed it, having caught the teenager several times during dinner intently watching the interaction between him and Albus. Then, when Molly had insisted he bring some tea and a few biscuits with him as he left the kitchen, Severus had felt Harry’s eyes on his back. And he had the uncanny feeling that it would not be the last time, either; soon enough becoming more than simply watching.

Severus sighed, and vigorously rubbed his temples. From the moment he had looked into Lily’s eyes when Harry had first stepped into Hogwarts, he had known the child of his beloved cousin and school time tormentor would have a very important role to play in his life. Which was actually one of the reasons he had treated Harry as he did---wanting nothing to do with the son of James Potter, but forgetting that he was part Lily, too. He had *never* thought he would be labeled a “guardian angel,” though. Least of all by that particular child.

As it was, he *still* could not wrap his mind around that little fact.

“Severus, my boy, what troubles you?” Albus’s soft voice cut through the Head of Slytherin’s thoughts, bringing the man back to full awareness rather abruptly. He tensed, snapping his eyes up to the twinkling blue ones six inches from his own.

The Headmaster chuckled, blithely ignoring the furious glare his former student shot his way. The venerable wizard had seated himself quite comfortably in a conjured rocking chair, back to the fire and facing the younger man in front of him. “It is not often I have been able to catch you unawares,” he remarked warmly. “Not even when you were a student yourself.”

The Potions Master sighed and dropped his glare, knowing that the other wizard was practically immune to it. “I could never be too cautious, Albus. You know how my family was, you know what other people thought of me,” Severus replied, bitterness tingeing his voice. Indeed, it had been precisely *because* of that treatment that he had been driven into Voldemort’s fold in the first place.

The Headmaster sat forward slightly and patted him gently on the knee, as if he still was that student. Sorrow darkened his normally twinkling blue eyes, “I know, Severus,” murmured simply. He left it at that.

The Potions Master leaned back in the armchair, eyes shut tight and face pained, giving a short nod. There was silence a few minutes, wherein Severus fought off past demons. Albus *allowed* him that time. Merlin knew the younger man had suffered enough. That was why he found himself very much intrigued as to what had transpired between Harry and Severus from the time the Potions Master had left the kitchen in search of the teenager, to when Harry himself had reentered the kitchen.

He did not have to wait long. A deep breath and the Head of Slytherin shook off those demons, knowing he would have to face them in nightmares later, but wanting the present cleared up for now. “Albus, what is planned for Potter this coming year? I do not believe that it was discussed during tonight’s Order meeting,” he murmured.

The Headmaster smiled slightly, the twinkle back in his eyes. Severus, whose own were once again fastened on the fire over his shoulder, did not notice. “I had assumed I could perhaps ask Remus to teach him Advanced Dueling and Advanced Defense. He *will* need to know it should he find himself in a situation that requires it…” He trailed off, seemingly in thought, knowing well what kind of reaction *that* would elicit.

The Potions Master scowled. “Albus! No offense to Re-Lupin,” he quickly corrected himself at the older wizard’s widening smile, “but he is hardly the right person to teach Potter. His condition leaves him far too weakened after a full moon to engage in dueling!”

The Headmaster’s eyes started twinkling madly. “Are you volunteering, then, Severus? How delightful!”

Too late, Severus realized the trap he had fallen into. He could fool Vol---the Dark Lord, but the spy could not fool Albus Dumbledore. He glared hard at his mentor a moment, before sighing and letting it drop. “Very well, Albus.”

Stunned, the venerable wizard blinked, not saying anything. He had not thought the younger man would agree *quite* so easily.

The Potions Master smiled faintly at the Headmaster’s inability to speak. “You thought I would put up a fight, did you not?” he responded softly. At Albus’s nod, he turned back to contemplating the fire. “So did I,” Severus spoke in a barely audible whisper.

“Harry defended you at the Order meeting tonight,” Albus gently prompted.

Severus said nothing, merely nodded as his eyes went unfocused and he recalled the meeting…

(Flashback)

A fist slammed down on the table, causing not just a few to jump. “Damn it, Moody, why can’t you understand?!” Hogwarts’s Potions Master snarled. “All Slytherins are *not* evil, and all of them are *not* Death Eaters! Given the choice, some of my students would sooner *die* than take the Dark Mark!”

The old Auror glared. “But *you* didn’t,” he hissed.

Severus’s eyes flashed. “Because I was a bloody *coward*!” the Head of Slytherin spat. “I am aware of it, Moody. You think I am not? But this isn’t *about* me, it is about my Slytherins!”

Old Moody’s tone was hard. “I still say the entire House is corrupt. Their Head is a Death Eater, and they themselves will *become* Death Eaters. The whole lot should be scanned!”

The Potions Master’s and Auror’s gazes were locked and blazing; both looked ready to explode at a moment’s notice. Indeed, they had been butting heads the entire *meeting*. Around them, other members were murmuring in agreement---mostly with Moody.

With a weary sigh, Albus Dumbledore began to stand to his feet, seeking to end the argument before it became any worse…when a quiet voice cut through the din. “Professor Snape isn’t a Death Eater,” Harry Potter stated, steel underlying his voice as he stood to his feet, magic crackling through the air, consequently drawing all attention to him. He looked Moody squarely in the eye. “And he is correct, not all Slytherins are Death Eaters.”

Moody looked appalled. “Potter, it is on his record at the Ministry!”

The younger wizard’s emerald eyes were fiery. “And I suppose every single other Slytherin throughout history is as well?” he remarked acidly. “I am sorry, sir, but I cannot believe that all Slytherins are Death Eaters, or evil, for that matter. I seem to remember finding out that my parents were betrayed by Peter Pettigrew. A Gryffindor. Furthermore, my club---the DA---was betrayed by a Ravenclaw. And who’s to say that a Hufflepuff isn’t on Voldemort’s side as well?” Many flinched at the Dark Lord’s name, but Harry did not bat an eye. “The point *is*, sir, that you cannot assume all Slytherins are automatically evil.” No one said a word. Harry did not notice; he barreled ahead, “And don’t accuse Professor Snape of being a Death Eater. He hasn’t *been* one in over a decade.”

Then Harry sat back down in his chair, incidentally beside the Potions Master, a vaguely disgusted expression on his face. The Boy-Who-Lived did not notice the measuring glances being shot at him by the Headmaster and many others in the Order, nor did he notice the absolutely astounded expressions on his friends’ faces or the Head of Slytherin’s.

Then Severus seemed to regain a foothold on himself, quickly pulling down his impassive mask. He did, however, rest his hand lightly on the young Gryffindor’s forearm, and gave it a small squeeze.

Harry relaxed imperceptibly at the man’s touch, the last remnants of the magic in the air dissipating. Then Severus quickly withdrew his hand, lest anyone see. But he did not escape the grateful gaze of his student, or the watchful one of the Headmaster.

(End Flashback)

“You were able to calm him, too,” Albus pointed out quietly, drawing Severus’s attention back to the present. “Not even Ms. Weasley has been able to do that.”

“I cannot say how, Headmaster,” the Potions Professor sighed. “I do not even understand why myself. My best guess is that he…well…he…”

“Trusts you,” Albus completed softly.

Severus turned away…and nodded, tired eyes on the flames. “I do not understand, Albus,” he muttered. “Not at all. For the last five years I have been nothing but horrible to him. Yet, he still trusts me. Perhaps on some level he always *has*…*No one* trusts the spy, Albus.” He cut the older wizard off before he could protest. “And do not say you do. At first, you did not trust me, either.”

The Headmaster gave a soft sigh, but nodded. It was true, after all, and not something he was proud of. “There is more, though,” he remarked.

Startled, Severus turned back to his mentor. “Well, I…he…” For the first time in a while, the Head of Slytherin could not string together an eloquent response. At last, he sighed again and stated bluntly, “He called me a guardian angel, Albus.”

The Headmaster said nothing for a moment, taking in this information, then his eyes started twinkling madly. Again. “Did he now?” He sounded very pleased.

Severus scowled at the older man. “*Yes*, he *did*.”

Albus chuckled, gently patting the other wizard’s arm. His friend’s scowl deepened. The Headmaster paid it no heed, allowing his laughter to subside. He *did*, however, grace the Potions Master with a warm smile. “Well, Severus, I cannot say I am surprised. In spite of your claim of hating the boy, you have never let any harm come to him if you could at all prevent it. Something, I must say, which I am very grateful for.”

“Albus!” he protested. “I am no angel!”

That infuriating twinkle simply would *not* leave the venerable Headmaster’s eyes. “Harry seems to think so.”

“*Yes*, and it is *precisely* that foolish Gryffindor trust that will get him killed,” Severus growled.

“Or save him,” Albus pointed out quietly.

“He *has* to be more cautious, Albus!” the Potions Master exclaimed.

The Headmaster merely smiled serenely. “Indeed, and I can think of no one better to teach him how to be cautious than you.”

Severus gave up with a soft huff. “Albus, you do not need to ask me to teach him something like that. I have been *trying* to teach him that for the past five years.”

Albus smiled. “And I am sure you have been doing a fine job of it.”

The Potions Master rolled his eyes, but said nothing further on the matter. “I still do not see how he can consider me a guardian angel,” the thirty-five-year-old man mumbled after a while, eyes once again on the fire.

“Ah, now *there* is something I cannot explain,” the Headmaster remarked pleasantly. “I am afraid Harry has to be the one to tell you that.”

Severus snorted. “Why am I *not* surprised you said that?”

Albus merely smiled some more. “Ah, but you have known me for a great many years, my friend. You know I always have a purpose for saying something.”

The Potions Professor’s only response was another, rather more derisive, snort. However, before he could come up with a retort, the two men heard movement in the kitchen.

“…Now off to bed with you. Shoo, shoo, shoo!” Molly Weasley’s voice wafted out of the threshold connecting kitchen and living room.

The two men exchanged grins, Severus’s rather more faint than the older wizard’s, as they heard the Weasley matriarch’s commanding tone.

“But, Mum---!” came the two youngest Weasleys’ chimed response.

“No ‘buts!’ Off you go!” she scolded.

Faint grumblings reached the two wizards’ ears, but four teenagers nonetheless emerged from the kitchen some moments later. Ron was still muttering, “…Honestly, she treats us like two-year-olds. Gin I can understand, but I’m almost *sixteen*!”

Ginny did not look happy with her brother. “Me?! For your information, Ronald Weasley, I’m almost *fifteen*!”

The two siblings passed through the living room, still bickering, while Hermione followed them, wearing an amused expression. None of the three noticed the two adults sitting near the fire. Harry, however, pulled up short, slowing his walk until he at last paused, seemingly aware that the two had been talking about him. He glanced at Severus, expression inscrutable.

Severus, whose eyes had rested on Harry since the boy had entered the room, nodded slightly. He surprised himself by speaking gently to his student, “Go ahead, Mr. Potter. I shall be up in a moment. There are a few things I wish to discuss with you.”

Harry nodded a bit, uncertain. “Yes, sir.” He hesitated still, though, looking as if he might say more.

The Head of Slytherin raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Potter?”

The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head and murmured, “I’ll tell you when you come up, sir. Professor Dumbledore.” He nodded gravely to the venerable Headmaster before hurrying after his friends.

“Good night, Harry,” the older wizard bid quietly, wide smile on his face as he observed Severus’s eyes watching the fifteen-year-old’s retreat.

When the Potions Master turned back to his mentor and took note of the other’s smile, he scowled. “Oh, be quiet, Albus,” he growled, but blushed slightly. After all, it was not *his* fault that Harry had changed his entire perception of him in less than a day.

Albus chuckled and patted the younger Professor’s knee once again. “Certainly, Severus. Certainly!”

Still scowling at the Headmaster, the Head of Slytherin gracefully rose to his feet, biscuit and tea forgotten, and glided out of the living room in the direction of the stairwell.

Once the younger wizard left the room, Albus leaned back in his rocking chair with a content sigh, blue eyes twinkling furiously as he gazed in the direction Severus had gone. He doubted he would ever get the full story out of either one of them, but what he *did* know was that Harry would be good for his boy. Oh, my, *yes* he would be good!