Silence, absolute dead silence after the startling question Snape had tossed forth.

And then, several noises at once.

A thud, as Harry's legs buckled and he sat straight down on the dungeon floor.

Draco, snarling something foul as he stalked to the bedroom door and slammed it with so much force that the sound echoed across the stone rooms.

And Dumbledore, his head still in the fireplace, calmly saying, "Severus, perhaps we should discuss this in my office. Would you Floo up here straight away, please?" With that, he vanished from sight.

Snape turned to Harry, who stared back up at him with shocked green eyes. For a moment that seemed to stretch out into infinity, the Potions Master just looked at him. Waiting for him to speak? Harry didn't know. Besides, he didn't think he could speak, or even croak. Not one word.

"Severus," an impatient, disembodied voice beckoned from the Floo.

That broke Snape out of his contemplation . . . or whatever it was. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked Harry, bending down to pull the boy to his feet.

Harry nodded, a little surprised that his legs were able to support him. Then he shook his head. Then he shrugged. Actually, he wasn't sure what he felt, or even what the question meant . . . Sure, he was going to be all right as far as say, not fainting dead away on the spot. No, he wasn't going to be all right with being adopted just so that some stupid spell could work! Of course, as spells went, he supposed that this one wasn't so very stupid. It could keep him alive . . . not that Voldemort likely to come bursting right into the Hogwarts dungeons . . . still, Riddle had invaded the place before, hadn't he? And sent his minions in as well.

All right, so the spell wasn't stupid at all.

Feeling like he was a rubber band being pulled in about six directions at once, Harry just shrugged again.

"We'll talk when I return," Snape promised, then stepped into the Floo and disappeared in a blazing emerald bonfire.

"Wow," Dudley said, his eyes about as wide as Harry's, though for different reasons. "He just went up in a pillar of flame. Can you do that, too?"

Harry winced, and found he had a voice after all. "I used to be able to."

Dudley nodded, reasoning as he went, "So he went off to talk to that other man? It's a way to travel? Wow. That's really weird. Er . . . will your teacher be all right?"

That time it was Harry nodding. It felt like his head was too heavy for his shoulders. Exhausted, he sank down onto the couch and leaned his neck back against the cushions. "He won't get burned or anything, Dudley. It's just a way wizards get around. Um, you did see me do it, once, remember?" Harry groaned then, remembering something himself. Dudley had been rather preoccupied the only time Harry had flooed in front of him. Ton tongue toffee . . . And it wasn't like he'd seen the Weasleys arrive in the fireplace, either, what with that whole disaster of it having been bricked up.

Dudley smiled, his features relaxing. Harry didn't know what that meant. He was pretty sure his cousin hadn't actually forgotten the horrible incident with the twins' candies.

As it turned out, the smile meant that Dudley's thoughts had moved past that to something far more important. It also meant that he couldn't sense the tension in Harry's frame, because what he said was, "That's really great, though, Harry. I'm happy for you."

Obviously excited, he plopped down on the other end of the couch and sort of bounced as he sat there.

Harry looked up through eyes that felt somehow dry and tight. Or maybe the feeling was in his throat; he couldn't really tell. "Oh, that . . . I . . . er, I'm not even sure what he meant by that, really."

Dudley stared at him like he'd grown an extra ear. "Seemed clear enough to me. I guess you're just shocked, huh? 'Bout time you had a dad of your own, if you ask me."

Dad? Harry's stomach did a flip inside him. Then it started twisting like it had the time he'd added too much dragonwort to his Sneezing Syrup. The feeling was awful, just awful. "Dudley . . ." Sighing, Harry lifted his head so he could look at his cousin. An ache started deep in his temples and radiated out to wrap around his head as he tried to find the words that would make Dudley understand. "Don't say anything like that again, all right? Especially not once Professor Snape gets back here. Because . . . well, assuming he even really meant what he seemed to, he's really not the . . . um, dad type, all right?"

Dudley was shaking his head, a stubborn look on his face.

"It's just for the spell," Harry explained. "It's . . . a legality. A technicality. It doesn't mean anything, Dudley!"

His cousin started babbling something, but Harry couldn't hear what, because Draco was storming back out, slamming his wooden door into the stone wall as he flung it open, his voice about as irate as Harry had ever heard it. "You ungrateful little prat! Doesn't mean anything, eh? Yeah, well when I needed help Severus sure as shite didn't come up with a plan like that for me, did he?"

It took Harry a moment to assimilate the fact that Draco was jealous, of all things. "You needed a different kind of help, that was all," he quietly said, looking at the other boy but not really seeing him.

"He could have adopted me," Draco raged, stomping back and forth across the room, "instead of setting things up so I'd be emancipated from my parents' control. But adoption . . . didn't even occur to him, I bet. Never mind the fact that I'm a Slytherin while you're just a bloody irritating Gryffindor. Never mind that I'm the one who's known him forever and ever, while up until what, late-September he absolutely hated your guts! And you just throw it all back in his face with this it's just for the spell crap!"

"But it is for the spell," Harry insisted.

"The spell's just a catalyst!" His sneer becoming more pronounced, Draco scathed, "Oh, no wonder you don't get it. In the first place, with your lousy marks in Potions, I bet you don't know what a catalyst even is! And in the second, you probably don't think Slytherins have any feelings!"

"I never said Slytherins don't have feelings!" Harry protested.

"You sure did! You do, every time you forget I gave you back your damned wand, every time you make some snide remark about how I just must have a way to fool Veritaserum, every time you act like I'm some species of slug incapable of the slightest loyalty!"

"Yeah, well Veritaserum or not, I know you lied to me!" Harry shot back. "I just felt so bad when I heard what my father did to you . . ." he cruelly mimicked Draco's aristocratic tones. "Even Snape says you're a bad liar, did you know that? And you were lying! I know it and you know it. About the only one who doesn't seem to know it is Snape! So don't go on about how he's choosing a Gryffindor over you, Malfoy! If he was doing that, I wouldn't have to put up with your lying face!"

Draco was as ashen as earlier, but somehow more composed. "I take back everything I said about the book," he calmly announced, brushing his hands against the front of his trousers as though the atmosphere in the room was tainted. "You aren't overcompensating at all. You're completely mental, Potter. And there's something wrong with the Eyesight Elixir, since you're blind as well! You honestly can't see that Severus cares about you?"

"Well sure, he cares," Harry admitted, shrugging. "He's a decent man where it counts. But why does he care? Because I'm the vanguard of the war effort, just like you said! Snape'll do anything it takes to make sure I can fulfil my damned destiny! One look at Dudley here is all you need to prove that true!" Harry turned to his cousin, giving him an apologetic look, and then resumed talking to Draco. "Snape didn't want a Muggle in his quarters! But he went to a lot of trouble to arrange for it, just to keep me safe so that I can off Voldemort some day! This latest idea of his is more of the same. It's strategy, Draco. I'd think a Slytherin could see as much!"

"You aren't just strategy!" Draco shook his head. "For Merlin's sake, he lets you go chat him up every night!"

"Yeah, well I read the book, just like you kept harping on about, so that's not so hard to explain, is it? Very clear in there, all that stuff about trauma victims needing someone trustworthy to talk to. He knows he's just about the only person I trust these days, so he's trying to be there for me. I said he was a decent man, didn't I?"

Draco bared his teeth, then opened his mouth as if he had a few more choice things to say. When he spoke though, it was to urge, his voice a little shaky. "Harry . . . it's not like that. Listen, all right? Severus . . . he told me he'd wished you'd been sorted into Slytherin. Said it would have taken him one hell of a lot less time to see who you really are, if . . . crud, Potter, just how dense are you? Severus is really fond of you."

Harry retreated, pushing himself more firmly into the corner of the couch, his hands shaking.

"You're a complete mess, do you know that?" Draco questioned. "You'd better just hope that the spell does mistake technicalities for real relationships, 'cause you're so psychologically damaged, you can't wrap your mind around the idea of family, can you?"

"Don't be mean to Harry!" Dudley erupted, jumping to his feet, his hands balled into fists at his side.

"That's it," Draco pronounced, throwing up his hands. "I'm going to bed."

The bedroom door slammed again, though with less force than before, leaving Harry and Dudley staring at each other.

"Uh . . . I guess he forgot he's supposed to sleep out here," Harry murmured, beginning to wonder just where Draco would be sleeping. It was hard to imagine him willingly sliding into the bed Dudley had been using, even taking into account cleaning charms and the like. It seemed equally unlikely, though, that Draco would take his bed.

The faint sound of water dripping drifted through the air. No singing though, not tonight.

"He's mean, but he's right, you know," Dudley slowly said as he turned to face Harry. "I don't know your teacher very well, but he seems to really like you."

"He's . . . I don't know," Harry said, rubbing the sides of his head.

"You look done in," Dudley said sympathetically. "Why don't you go in to bed? I'll take the couch. No big deal."

Harry couldn't help but sigh. "No, I'd better wait up for Snape. Um, you look pretty tired too. You go use my bed, all right?"

"All right," Dudley murmured. "'Night, Harry."

"Good night," Harry returned. Once he was alone, he fetched Sals from her little box, and let the snake slither up and down his arms. After a while, he lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling, remembering how it had looked being spelled with that silvery spectral fabric.

"Harry is up-ssset," Sals hissed, her tongue coming out to flicker lightly against his ear.

"No, not really," Harry hissed back, closing his eyes. "I'm just tired."

"Sssleep," Sals suggested.

Harry didn't think he could, especially considering that the room was still brightly lit, but as the minutes ticked past, each one slower than the last, he found that what had started off as an excuse quickly became the truth.

"Ssstay with me, Sals," Harry whispered as he felt the weight of sleep begin to drag him under.

Sals curled up into a coil on the boy's breastbone, her head lightly bobbing as she watched Harry sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The loss of Sal's slight weight was enough to rouse Harry from his slumber. He cracked an eye to see Snape cradling the little snake in one palm, then tipping her carefully into the box she slept in.

Shaking his head to clear it, Harry pulled his feet off the couch and sat up. His first thought was rather inane, but he was still half-asleep. Besides, he didn't think he'd seen Snape touch Sals before. "You aren't afraid of snakes?"

"Not at all," Snape replied in a level tone.

"Right," Harry said. Snape was doing it again, just looking at him. Staring, sort of like Harry was some mysterious Potion ingredient, and Snape had to decide if he should chop him, mince him, or toss him in the cauldron whole. The sensation of being studied was so strong that Harry abruptly broke out into shivers all over. "Um, could you spell the lights off for me?" he ventured, a little desperate to just end that stare. "I'm sleeping out here, tonight."

Snape's lips firmed into a thin, straight line. "You don't think we might have a few things to discuss?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir."

Snape took a seat on the chair nearest Harry, and settled into it, a look of profound contemplation on his face. Almost on cue, the staring began again. "Really," he drawled.

"No, sir," Harry repeated.

"You're willing to have me adopt you, just like that."

"Yes, sir."

"Stop this yes, sir . . . no, sir nonsense at once," Snape snapped, his fingers curling into claws. "I'd appreciate knowing what you actually think of the idea."

Harry's headache roared back in full force. The truth was, he didn't know what he thought of the idea. He wasn't even sure what the idea was. Adopt him, sure. That made sense. Just for the spell though, right? Just until Voldemort was defeated? And it would just be pretend, right? Oh sure, legal and all that, but not the slightest bit real . . . Right?

"Um, well . . . I think it's a pretty good plan," Harry finally managed to say.

"Plan," Snape slowly repeated, sounding almost as though he'd never heard the word before.

Harry nodded, not knowing why he was suddenly short on breath. He sucked in a couple of draughts of air, but somehow ended up feeling even more breathless. Go figure. His headache was pounding in his temples now, the pain so severe it was beginning to make him queasy.

"It wasn't so much a plan as a paradigm shift," his teacher clarified.

Like Harry knew what that meant. "Whatever." He glossed that over. "Dumbledore, though, he thought it would work? I mean, to trick the spell?"

"I think you're missing the point," Snape announced, resting his wrists on his knees as he leaned forward to peer closely at Harry. "I have no interest in adopting you in name only."

"You mean I have to change my name?" Harry gasped. "Um, Harry Snape?"

"That wouldn't suit you," Snape said with a small smile which vanished as quickly as it had come. "Are you being deliberately obtuse? I'm not talking about anything as shallow as names."

Harry tried another deep breath. It didn't make his temples throb any less, but at least it took the edge off his nausea. "Well, good," he shortly retorted, then warmed to the topic. "'Cause I like my name. And whatever my father did to you, he was my father and even you said that in the end he came out all right. I think Potter's a fine name. Besides, as much as I hate being famous for something stupid like managing to live even though I got my parents killed, the name's kind of stuck to the war effort now. You know, how's it going to look if Harry Potter isn't Harry Potter any longer?"

"No one is remotely suggesting you change your name," Snape patiently repeated.

"Well, good," Harry said again, his tone rather defiant by then. "'Cause I won't. Now, if you don't mind, could you spell off the lights? I think my headache would go away if I could just sleep."

"Why didn't you say you needed a potion?" Snape asked, sounding surprised.

"Because I don't! I just need to be left alone to sleep!"

"Not until we settle things." Standing, Snape crooked a beckoning finger. "Come into my office where we can speak in private."

Harry followed, feeling like he was dragging himself down the hall. The noise of Snape closing the door made him sort of jump. When the man offered him a small vial of Headache Calming Draught, he downed it in one gulp, then waited. And waited.

"Didn't work," he finally announced, frowning. "Can't I please sleep?"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "No. Sit down." When Harry didn't, his teacher took him by the shoulders and gently shoved him into a chair, then stood behind him and began to knead and massage his shoulders. "It's a tension headache," he determined. "Did the draught not help at all?"

"Well, all right, some," Harry admitted. Actually, the potion had worked fairly well; it just hadn't cleared his headache entirely.

"Stop trying to avoid this conversation," Snape growled, his fingers digging into muscle with more force. Not too much, though. He did know how to ease the tightness in Harry's neck and shoulders. "Just relax, you idiot child."

Minute by minute, Harry began to. It probably helped that Snape stopped talking. It also helped that the light in the office was far less bright. Definitely, those hands helped. Fingers against his vertebrae, working out every kink.

"You're good at this," Harry finally said, the words emerging a bit sluggishly.

"Enough?"

"No."

Snape lightly chuckled and kept it up for a good while longer, then said, "I know your headache must be gone by now."

"It is," Harry admitted.

"All right then. Time to talk." Snape took the seat facing Harry, and looked him straight in the eyes. "I meant what I said, Harry. Quite sincerely."

"Well, I figured that out," Harry murmured. "I mean, you wouldn't suggest it unless you thought it would work."

"You're still thinking of the warding spells," Snape sighed. "That isn't the central issue--"

"Will it work?" Harry interrupted. "Did the headmaster think so?"

"We think your cousin is right about why the spells failed, yes."

"Well, that's it, then," Harry said, nodding to himself.

"That is not it," Snape disagreed, lacing his fingers together.

"Sure it is."

Harry shifted in his chair, only to hear Snape tersely order, "Sit down! We aren't through!" He saw Snape take a deep breath, and then another . . . just as if he were a little bit nervous. That struck him as strange.

"Harry." Snape said finally, his head inclined to study the boy. "Dudley's epiphany, while valuable in of itself, has managed to . . . confuse one thing with another. The truth is, I'd been thinking along the lines he suggested well before the warding spells failed to lock themselves in place."

Harry twisted a lip. "Right. You were going to adopt me anyway. Sure you were."

"I admit, I hadn't got quite that far in my thinking." Snape shot him a smile. Brief and strained, it didn't reach his black eyes. "Long before Samhain, I'd realised that we got on surprisingly well. And after your uncle was killed, it came to me that you had no guardian left . . . Actually, that you'd never had any adult caretaker truly looking out for your interests. Not since James and Lily."

"Professor . . ." Harry swallowed, realizing that Snape actually was nervous. It wasn't like him to ramble. "Why do you think I never let on to anyone about the cupboard and all that? Ron and Hermione don't even know; not the worst of it. You went on in class for years about how pampered and spoiled I was, and I never said a word to refute you, did I? Why do you suppose that was?"

"That's another conversation--"

"No, it's this one," Harry insisted. "Go on, think about it. Why didn't I tell people I'd been mistreated and unloved almost my entire life?"

Snape twisted his lips. "I suppose you were embarrassed. Possibly you were even ashamed."

"Possibly," Harry admitted, thinking back to when he was eleven. It was hard to remember all he'd felt then, when it was so overshadowed by how he felt about things, now. "But the main reason, way more important than those, was that I didn't want people feeling sorry for me. You see?"

Snape took a moment to consider the question. "You think I pity you, then."

"Well, you did just say I'd never had anyone . . . a grown-up, I mean, who really took care of me. Me, not the child-of-prophecy or the warrior-in-training. Sirius could have, I think . . . but Azkaban left him . . . I don't know. He loved me, but he was . . . damaged. It's like fate's conspired to snatch away from me anybody I get, one way or another. I know how pitiful that is."

"The fact that people look at you and see something other than your true self is unfortunate," Snape agreed, his gaze steady. "I myself have been guilty of this, as you well know. I see you now, Harry, or at least as much of you as you will permit me to see. But when I think of the wasteland that has been your entire childhood, it isn't pity I feel."

Harry couldn't hold that sombre gaze; he looked away. He didn't want to know, he told himself. He just didn't. He wouldn't ask.

But he did. "What, then?" came whispering from his lips.

It took Snape a long while to answer. "Admiration is there," the man finally said. "Because I have suffered too, Harry. It is easy to become embittered . . . but you have risen above the impulse. Forgiving that cousin of yours . . ." He lightly shuddered.

"Oh, Dudley isn't so bad."

"Now, perhaps," Snape conceded. "But I knew you before you could Occlude. You will never convince me that it was easy growing up alongside him."

Well, that was one thing about Snape, Harry reflected. He knew things about Harry that went deep. Memories that had scarred him, way down where nobody knew to look. But Snape knew. Actually, he knew, and he'd never used those memories to hurt or taunt him, not even back when they were enemies, not even after Harry had looked into that Pensieve and Snape had wanted to get even.

Deliberately dropping his potion assignment, Harry suddenly realised, though vindictive and reprehensible, hadn't been the worst Snape could have done. Not by a long shot.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not really that admirable. If you knew how many times I wished the Dursleys dead, all of them, even Dudley--" He stopped, because Snape's lips were twitching despite the gravity of the conversation. "Oh. Right. You do know." Because that, too, was woven throughout the whole matrix of his memories.

"You're entirely normal," Snape told him. "And that, perhaps, is my whole point. You've never been treated normally. You went from ten years of base deprivation to being held up to honour and glory which you'd done nothing to merit. You said a moment ago that you managed to live despite getting your parents killed. But you did neither the one nor the other, Harry. Your mother shielded you with her love. She managed to make you live, and gave her life in the process. And the consequence for you was to make everyone treat you as something other than normal."

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered.

"Everyone except me," Snape added.

Harry's eyes opened wide at that. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me! No offence, all right? Because it's over, but you spent five years being awful to me, absolutely awful!"

"I wanted to hurt James," Snape admitted. "Irrational and inappropriate response--"

"Immature, arseholish response," Harry put in.

"Yes. Because I had let myself become embittered. Yes, Harry. When I would shred your ego to ribbons in Potions class, and see the hurt on your face, I somehow thought James was hurting for you, wherever he was. And that satisfied me. But for all my own . . . issues, I am the only one here who insisted--tried to insist, rather--that no matter what nonsense the Daily Prophet spouted about you, within these walls we should ignore your celebrity status."

"Is that part of why you were so mean? You were trying to balance out all the damned hero-worship I got from other quarters?"

"No. You imbue me with too much altruism . . . Don't sugar-coat how I treated you. It was ill-done of me. In my own way, I was reacting to image as much as anyone, just in a different sense."

"Then why do you say you treated me normally?" Harry tilted his head to the side, trying hard to understand.

Snape tapped his fingertips together. "It was more a case of trying to make the headmaster do so," he admitted. "I wasn't able to rise above my anger to do it myself, but I entreated him to keep you to the same rules others were required to abide by. First-years are not allowed to have brooms at school or play on house teams; you were. Neither is it standard practice to issue students invisibility cloaks. Time and again he allowed you to circumvent the rules, his purpose being to forge in you the strength to fulfill that prophecy. Worse than that, he set you to challenges no child should have to face. Fawkes could have rescued you from the Chamber of Secrets, you realise. He did carry you out in the end. Instead, the headmaster had his blasted bird deliver you the Sorting Hat so you might have a sword. A twelve-year old, expected to slay a Basilisk! And as if that weren't outrageous enough, he wanted to see if you could vanquish the memory of Riddle, as well! The fact that you could do it didn't make it right to subject you to what amounted to another form of abuse. Albus and I have had words on the subject, more than once."

"You can't be saying you cared about me all those years ago," Harry mumbled.

"No," Snape admitted. "I thought you were arrogant, and that raising you as a saviour instead of a boy would make you even more unbearable. I even thought it would be counterproductive; that you would begin to disregard your elders' instruction, which would make you less likely to fulfil your destiny, as it were. I was not concerned about you as a person, not at all, not then. But still, I was the only one who fought Albus, who argued that you should be treated normally."

Harry felt tears welling to his eyes, awful globs of tears he couldn't stop. "You were right," he gasped. "I was arrogant, just as you said! Everybody told me to learn Occlumency, and I thought I knew better, and Sirius died because I was too stupid to listen to advice!"

Snape's hands wrapped themselves around his wrists, and gripped them firmly. Only when Harry looked up did he speak, his voice intense with sincerity. "Your godfather died because I made those lessons an exercise in humiliation instead of strength. He died because Albus spent five years conditioning you to save others, because he deliberately inculcated in you the conviction that you are responsible to do so! Fawkes could have spirited Miss Weasley out of the chamber, Harry! The second task did not need to be one that endangered a loved one! Diggory's death only hit you so hard because by then, you had been taught that you should be able to save anyone!"

Dumbledore could have saved Sirius from the Dementors himself, Harry mentally added, instead of sending me back with Hermione to do it. Dumbledore could have got me out of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Binding magical contract or no, he could have found a way. But I saw that glimmer in his eye when the Goblet spit out my name. He wanted me to compete. He wanted me to face those Tasks, and develop my reflexes, build my skills . . . no matter that without all the help I got from Crouch I'd have failed, and failed again . . .

Things seemed more clear to him than ever before. What he had taken for leniency . . . the broom, the cloak . . . had been nothing short of strategy. Dumbledore, moulding him into a warrior for the Light.

"But you think you can treat me normally?" Harry prompted.

"I think you present challenges in that regard," Snape returned, squeezing his wrists, then releasing them and sitting back again. "Because from the moment Voldemort marked you his equal, you ceased to be an average child, to say the least. I also think, however, that I am the only one who so much as realises that you are a child, Harry."

"I'm sixteen, in case you've forgotten."

Snape's hair billowed slightly as he shook an amused head. "The only one who realises it's wrong to expect you to live and breathe as a quasi-adult instead of an adolescent," he amended.

"You aren't the only one," Harry had to say. "Sirius wanted me to be a kid. He wanted to take me in, even, offered way back in third year. Did you know that? For a long time I blamed you that I had to keep going back to the Dursleys, when I could have spent my summers with Sirius. I never got to know him, not really. And I could have."

"Do you still hold me at fault?"

"Not as much," Harry answered honestly. "Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed it, I'm thinking now. I mean, I don't think a godfather has any real say; it wasn't like he was my legal guardian. The headmaster would have made me stay where I was warded. And really, the fact that Pettigrew got away, that Sirius lost his chance at exoneration, had more to do with Remus transforming than with the fact that you stormed in and muddied the waters. Suppose you'd never shown up at all that night?" Harry shrugged. "The moon would still have risen."

Harry drew in a deep breath. "Anyway, Mr and Mrs Weasley think I'm a child, too. Well, they would. They have enough children of their own to recognise one. I . . . I don't know them very well, though," he added shakily. "I might, by now, if the headmaster had let me spend summers there or something . . ." He shrugged. "Anyway, that saving-people thing has been . . . what's your word . . . inculcated in me for good, I think. I can't get rid of it, Professor. Which means I couldn't dream of letting the Weasleys adopt me, assuming they would even offer. It would make them targets for Voldemort." A dry laugh almost made him choke. "At least you're a target already. Hell, at least you have a decent shot at defending yourself."

He didn't even realise his eyes had closed until he felt a glass of something cool being pressed into his hand. Looking at it, Harry lifted a brow. "Wine? I thought you said it would interfere with the Elixir." He moved his hand down to hold the glass by the stem.

"It should be fine," Snape murmured. "Sip it to moisten your throat."

Harry did. "Oh. That's really nice. Sort of . . . light and fruity." He drank a slightly bigger sip, and smiled.

"Were you expecting something foul?"

"Well, I'd only ever had a taste of Aunt Petunia's cooking sherry, and it was sort of icky," Harry admitted.

"Ah."

Harry slowly drained the glass, then leaned sideways to set it down on Snape's desk. "All right. This adoption idea. It's not just for the spell?"

"I see it's not solely a classroom behaviour, this failure to pay attention."

"Sorry," Harry admitted. It had been a stupid question, considering all they'd discussed. "The spell was a catalyst."

"Perhaps you do sometimes pay attention."

Harry decided not to mention that he'd picked the word up from Draco. "All right, you um . . . cared about me before the warding failed, I got that. But you said your thinking hadn't got as far as actually . . . er, getting yourself stuck with me for good. So what were you thinking, then? That's what I'd like to know."

Snape's lips curled in a rueful smile. "I was thinking I didn't want to lose the understanding we'd come to have, Harry. More than that, I wanted to be in a position where I could help you if you needed it, and I most certainly don't merely mean with warding, or even magic in general. I want to be able to help you with life. Adoption didn't occur to me as parenting is rather outside my area of experience." He slanted a glance at the boy, "I had actually toyed with the idea of offering you an apprenticeship when you graduate."

"An apprenticeship," Harry gasped. "In Potions . . ." He couldn't help but laugh at that image.

"Daft idea, I know," Snape agreed, chuckling a bit. "You could be . . . adequate in the field, with more work and study. You do not have the makings for a Master. It was the best idea I'd had, however, until Dudley spoke up and I experienced a paradigm shift."

That time, Harry asked. "Paradigm shift?"

"It means a rethinking of one's beliefs, in such a profound way that the entire universe appears to be afterwards altered."

"Oh . . ." Harry remembered, then, reading the phrase before. It had been in a book about cosmology . . . Hermione's recommendation. Harry had only read the first couple of chapters, and he'd thought you said the word para-digum, but he understood the concept. "Like when astronomers realised the world wasn't flat, it changed their whole idea of everything. Right?"

"The world isn't flat?" Snape chuckled again. "Yes, like that."

"And your great rethinking was . . . ?"

"I'd never considered adopting you because, quite simply, I couldn't possibly conceive of myself as a parent. Then Dudley pointed out how much you needed one, and . . . the universe changed, Harry. I could see myself in the role."

Then Harry got it, really got it. The spell had been a catalyst, nothing more. He wondered how Draco had known that. "Um . . . so, say we do this . . ." That thought got sidetracked into another. "Will they let us do this?"

"Oh, I think so. The headmaster has a way of getting what he wants."

"And he wants this?"

"He was rather startled, I will say," Snape sighed. "He hasn't seen us together very much of late. His primary concern appeared to be that I would . . . I believe the word was bully you into it. Do you feel unduly pressured?"

Harry crossed his ankles and thought about that. "Not by you, so much. I keep thinking about the wards, about how Voldemort isn't too likely to just pop in for lunch, seeing as this is Dumbledore's domain . . . but also how he keeps finding a way in here. And Samhain . . . I can't even say how awful that was. I need those wards up, especially after . . ."

"After Samhain?"

"After my magic comes back, I was going to say," Harry admitted, his voice pitched low. "I think Voldemort assumed that wild magic was coming from other quarters; you rescuing me, or the headmaster. I think, as long as he believes I'm powerless, he won't bother about me. But after I get my magic back, he'll know it. He'll start in on my scar again. He'll send me those awful dreams . . . if the wards aren't up by then, he might come here to get me!"

"So you do feel pressured to accept my offer."

"Yeah, if it'll make the spell work," Harry said, a bitter, strangled laugh catching in his throat. "That's ironic, isn't it? I was upset at first, and sort of depressed, thinking that you wanted to protect me but you didn't really want me, and it turns out you do, but that I can hardly stand the idea of anybody being my parent. Because I've never had one, Professor. I . . . I guess I need a paradigm shift, too."

"That it's all right to depend on someone." Snape nodded. "That sixteen isn't grown."

"Something like that." Harry picked up his empty wine glass, needing to do something with his hands. He twirled the stem, looking anywhere but at Snape as he spoke. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. It can't be nice, hearing me say yes just to let the warding proceed."

"What would be nice," Snape softly said, the words washing over Harry like a vow, "is to hear you say yes at all. Because the rest . . . well, it will either come or it won't, but I would like to have a chance to let it."

Bracing himself, Harry looked up. "Is it awful if I have some questions, first?"

"Prudent, I would say. And so?"

Now that the time had come, Harry didn't quite know what to ask. It wasn't as though he'd ever contemplated having a conversation like this one. He'd figured out a long time ago that it just wasn't going to happen, that Sirius was on the run and couldn't take on the responsibility, and nobody else would ever offer. His mind was blank, and Snape was waiting, and Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Actually, once he heard it come out of his mouth, he realised it was the only thing on his mind.

"What would you do to punish me?"

Snape's eyes instantly flashed so much anger that Harry was tempted to say never mind, even though he did want an answer. "I didn't mean it that way," he said instead. "I mean, I'm not trying to say in advance I plan to break your rules--"

"You breaking rules is almost certainly inevitable," Snape snapped.

"Well, if the mere prospect practically sends you into a fit, we're probably not a good match, then!" Harry snapped back.

"My fit, such as it was, was sheer unadulterated rage that those Muggles made care and punishment somewhat synonymous in your mind. I am not angry with you for asking the question, however." Snape tapped his fingers together. "What would I do to punish you? I don't honestly know. I suppose the same sorts of things I've had you do in detention. Or . . . extra assignments? I certainly won't hex you, as Lucius favours, or maltreat you as seems to be the Muggle way."

"All right," Harry agreed. "So what about rules, then? What would they be?"

Snape stared at him. "I have no idea at the moment. We'll need to negotiate them as needed, I should imagine."

"Negotiate . . ." Harry cocked an eyebrow. "You mean that?"

"I do know you aren't six, Harry," Snape pointed out. "I know you have needs and opinions of your own, and a mind fully capable of appreciating multiple points of view. There will doubtless come times when you will have to accept my judgment on certain things, and accept it even though you vehemently disagree. But when it is feasible, yes, we will negotiate."

Harry thought he could live with that. Actually, it was a better deal than he'd expected to get. Snape seemed more the authoritarian type . . . but that was probably confusing his classroom demeanour with the man himself. Potions class, after all, wasn't a place where much negotiation was possible, not when one wrong ingredient could make cauldrons go off like rockets.

He tried to think of anything else he needed to ask. "Is the whole thing going to have to be some secret I can't tell anybody?"

Snape seemed slightly surprised. "You may tell whomever you wish."

"So can you," Harry quipped, and when his teacher jerked slightly, added, "Oh, I mean yes. I probably should have said that part first."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

As though reluctant to believe it, Snape cautiously confirmed, "You have no more questions?"

"No. Do you have any?"

Snape shook his head, but Harry couldn't tell whether it was in answer or some kind of disbelief. Definitely, the man seemed a little bit shocked now that things were more or less settled. He covered it by conjuring a second wine glass, his wandwork just a little more grandiose than required. The bottle from before was still on his desk. Snape cast a cooling charm across it, then poured out two half-glasses of pale amber liquid. Harry's glass was still in his hand; he held it carefully still while Snape poured, afraid that making him spill might mean bad luck, or something.

And Harry felt like he needed all the luck he could get.

Snape lifted his glass. "To the future," he softly said, then clinked his glass against Harry's.

Harry knew he should say something back, but he didn't think he could. A sort of choking feeling was coming over him. Not fears, not tears . . . he wasn't really sure what it was, but he wanted it to go away. He went ahead and took a big swallow of wine, but it didn't help.

The feeling remained, a lump in his throat, a slight tremor in his hands. Harry ignored it as best he could. This adoption thing would work out all right, wouldn't it?

Of course it will, his rational mind answered. Never mind that behind that thought were countless others. Aunt Petunia stuffing him in that cupboard, saying he deserved nothing better. Remus, practically dropping off the face of the earth just when Harry had finally started to believe in him. Sirius, wishing Harry could be James, instead. Sirius, falling through the Veil . . .

Unable to bear such thoughts, Harry brought up his defences, raised a wall of fire in his mind, and hid himself inside it. He didn't know what else to do, how else to manage. But because he did trust Snape, he didn't try to hide the fact that he was Occluding.

Snape studied him for a moment, his dark eyes intent, but said nothing of it.

After a moment, he drank his wine as well.