Severus sat stiffly in Dumbledore's office, when where he really wanted to be was outside, riding herd on a passel of children . . . or one particular child, at least. He had no doubt that, even with explicit instructions to the contrary, Harry could find a way to end up at the short end of the stick, and could quite likely find himself in the infirmary again. And Severus' nerves were already shot, thank you very much.

Molly Weasley, who had accepted the Headmaster's offer of tea, was sipping slowly, and watching him over the rim of his cup. "You look tired," she observed.

Severus managed - just - not to roll his eyes. "Indeed."

"How have you been sleeping?"

"Fine."

She gave a huff of annoyance. "Please, Severus. I'm trying to help. It won't do either of us any good if you aren't candid with me."

"If you already knew the answer, why did you ask?" he snarked.

"You should know the answer to that one," Molly said with a soft laugh. She turned to Dumbledore and lifted her eyebrows as if to ask what she was to do with a recalcitrant child in her care. Severus did not like the implication one bit.

"I have been sleeping as much as possible," he said at last. "Harry is . . . plagued by nightmares, and his sleep is often interrupted."

"And thus yours is as well." She nodded. "I know how that can go. Ronnie still has nightmares about spiders some times, and when he does, we're both shattered the next day. How bad are they?"

"Bad enough." With a pointed look from Albus, he elaborated, "They're horrible. Every night, except once when we - Madam Pomfrey and myself - dosed him with Dreamless Sleep. I admit I'm wary about giving it to him too often, however, due to his age and his size. He frequently screams himself hoarse, though. A few nights ago, he tried to stop his own screaming by biting his hand. Tore through the tendon along his thumb."

Molly gasped. "Oh, my word. Is that why . . ."

"His left hand was wrapped. Yes."

She was quiet for a while this time, and Severus took the opportunity to study her, in turn. He hadn't seen her in six years or more. Not since her youngest was born, since the Potters had died, since the Dark Lord had vanished. She had seven children, it was true. Six of them boys. He'd heard from the other professors that Bill was a bit rebellious, but a good student for all that, and likely to be Head Boy. Charlie, whilst a decent student, was much better at Quidditch. According to Albus, he'd been responsible for Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup for several years now and apparently had a yen for dragons. Severus wasn't sure he trusted the youngster with his son, but it was obvious that Molly Weasley cared for her brood, with a fair and affectionate hand.

Would that he could someday say as much about himself.

"I was surprised to hear that you'd taken Harry in," Molly said suddenly.

"I daresay many people are, or will be."

She smiled faintly. "May I ask what prompted such a move?" Her gaze flicked to Dumbledore, who was watching their interaction with thinly veiled amusement, and he understood. The Old Coot had not told her that Harry was actually his son. Well.

Fine.

"Such information isn't necessary," he said coolly, "in order for you to dispense your advice."

"No . . . But it would help me understand his circumstances, and better aid you in preparing for his future behaviors."

Severus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I can only assume his last placement - with his aunt and uncle, correct? - was less than satisfactory, due to the state I saw him in a few moments ago. He is clearly undernourished and rather small for his age, and he's fearful of being touched. . ."

"Maybe he's fearful of being charged at!"

She ignored him, and talked right over his outburst, "I expect he was abused, quite likely with some frequency. It will take you a good while to win his trust, but you seem to be making headway there. He looks to you for reassurance and for guidance."

Quiet now, Severus considered her words. Everything she said was true.

"Have you tried Legilimency?"

Startled by the question, Severus shot a look at Albus, but the Headmaster merely sucked on a lemon drop and ignored his silent plea. "Pardon?"

"To help with his nightmares. I know you're a Legilimens, Severus. Have you used it on Harry?"

"No, I . . ." He hadn't really considered it, but it might work. And perhaps, if he worked with the child on developing some skill in Occlumency, too, Harry would be more relaxed when he went to sleep. He knew the boy could learn the skill; he was rather more powerful than Severus had first thought, and his "accidental," wandless magic was becoming stronger by the day. And far less accidental, too.

"That's a good idea, Molly," he admitted after a few minutes. "I will try it."

"There. That wasn't so hard." She smiled at him as if he'd finally gotten his homework done after much struggling against it. "Now, tell me about your disciplinary methods . . ."

Severus sighed. This was going to be a long day.

---

Out on the grounds, the boys were playing a loud game of tag, along with Fang, while Hagrid and Nelli the House-elf kept an eye on them. Nelli looked a bit fretful, to tell the truth, but Hagrid kept a discreet distance, for him, just a glance or two every few minutes, and weeded his garden. Fang tired of the game far earlier than his human counterparts, and lay panting in the shade of the cottage. Drool collected in a puddle near his head.

Hagrid laughed at him good naturedly and tossed a half ripe tomato at the beast's huge paws. Fang lapped it up; he enjoyed a good steak as much as the next boarhound, but never let a tomato go by either. Darlin' beast, he was. Gentle as a lamb. "There's a good lad. Eat up!"

From the shrieks of laughter and equally loud, happy calls of "Not it, not it!" it seemed the game was going well. Harry was enjoying himself, Hagrid thought, watching him chase after Ron Weasley, who was skipping and grinning madly, and he was glad to see it. He'd worried for the tyke when he'd first come down to visit, with his injured hand and talk about being a House-elf, and his wary, not-quite-trusting smile. Fang had put the lad more at ease, he thought, as had a spot of tea.

And then he'd returned, with Draco Malfoy, no less! He had no liking at all for Lucius, no, that one was bad to the bone, as it were, but he had nothing against the nipper, ‘less he did anything more to get Harry in trouble. Going after the squid, honestly! But Draco seemed to have decent manners, at least, even let Fang drool on ‘im. Now, with the other boys, he looked more carefree than his father would ever deign to be, and was running and grinning as much as the others.

Charlie Weasley was a good lad, enjoyed that Care of Magical Creatures class Professor Kettleburn taught, from what he'd heard. And he was a dab hand at Quidditch, too. His little brother, Ron, was cute as a button, if the button was red haired and gap toothed from missing front baby teeth.

After another hour, when Hagrid was down to snapping peas on his front stoop, the boys staggered over to collapse in giggling, tuckered out heaps in the shade nearby. Hagrid listened to them discuss Quidditch - Harry's knowledge being on the low end, no surprise, since he couldn't have heard of the sport before Professor Snape had taken the mite in, but Draco and Charlie both seemed to know quite a lot about current standings and statistics, and a lot of other facts that went clear over Hagrid's head. Ron was somewhere in the middle, very enthusiastic, but not very strong on facts, to hear his brother's objections.

Up close, it was easier to see Harry's face, and though he smiled at his new friends, there was something off in his expression. It took a few minutes of close observation to figure it out, and by then two House-elves appeared with a basket of lunch for the bunch of ‘em. Harry invited Hagrid - and the elves! - to join them, but he knew they would not have brought enough food for a half-giant and so declined. The House-elves looked properly aghast at the very idea of sharing trenchers with the people they were serving. Hagrid did take a serving of pumpkin juice, though. He loved the stuff.

All the boys looked hungry, though Hagrid noted that Harry not only waited until the other lads had their sandwiches, crisps and fruit piled high before taking anything for himself, but once he did have a plateful, he laid down on his belly and wrapped one arm around the outside of his plate, clearly protective of his meal. The gazes he aimed at the bigger boys had grown steadily warier, even though the midge tried to hide it.

Hagrid decided to keep an eye on the lad, and if he didn't settle easier pretty soon, he'd mention it to the Professor. Odd how Snape had taken in the boy; but they both seemed glad of the arrangement. Going back to his peas, he watched the boys eat everything before beginning a rousing game of Exploding Snap, courtesy of a pack of cards pulled from Ron's pocket.

Harry jumped a span the first time the cards exploded, as if he'd been bit by a Horntail. But then he grinned and laughed along with the other boys, and the game started up again.

---

In the afternoon, under Nelli's watchful eye, the boys played chess in Harry's bedroom. Draco and Ron paired up, and Charlie, having admitted he knew less than nothing about chess, played against Harry. Their game dissolved into a "Pieces Fighting Match" at Harry's suggestion, and when their hoots and catcalls got too much for Draco and Ron, the "serious" game was moved to the sitting room.

Charlie grinned at Harry, who was feeling a little forlorn - and if he was admit the whole truth, a little nervous - at the abandonment. Charlie was a lot bigger than him, and older, too, and he probably could do all sorts of things with magic that would hurt. He was glad Nelli had stayed with him. She was currently sitting on a small chair by his wardrobe and watching him with a soft smile.

"Miss them, huh?" Charlie asked suddenly.

Harry stared at him and shrugged. It wasn't like they were far away, but he wanted to be their friends, not have them just be friends to each other. It felt almost like primary school again, with Dudders making everyone stay away from him and beating them up if they didn't.

"Don't worry on it. After this game, Ron'll be back right quick. He's a bit mental about chess, actually. Percy won't play him any more, and no one else even knows the first thing about it."

"Percy?"

"My little brother, just after me." At Harry's blank look, he said, "There's seven of us, six boys and a girl. First born is Bill, he's the heir, you'll meet him when term starts up again. Then me, then Percy, who'll be a Firstie in September. Then the twins, Fred and George. Ron's the youngest boy, and then there's Ginny. She's the baby." He pulled a face. "Except don't tell her I said that; she's six now; she'd kill me."

"I won't tell," Harry promised, smiling. Charlie was all right, he guessed, especially since he thought brooms and were really cool, and played Quidditch, too. Ron he wasn't too sure of; he tended to call "no fair" a lot when they were playing something, and Draco called him out on it, saying things weren't always fair in life and he'd better get over it. Harry knew that was true, and figured it was something Draco had learnt from his father, the way Harry had learnt from Uncle Vernon.

Charlie set one of his bishops out to clobber a couple of pawns. Harry quickly moved in a knight of his own to cover them, and maybe smash it with the rooks a bit, too. "So . . . how're you getting along with Draco Malfoy? I gotta tell you, it was a surprise to see him here."

"How come?"

"Well . . ." Charlie's ears reddened. "It's no secret that his father was a big supporter of You Know Who."

"Who?"

"You Know Who . . . I mean, the Dark Wizard who, well . . . er, . . ."

"Killed my parents?" Harry supplied helpfully. When Charlie just nodded, he continued, "Oh, I know that, about the Malfoys. Father told me."

"He did?"

"Mm-hm. Well, he said I had to be careful around them. But it's okay. Draco's my friend now."

"Uh -huh. It's good you're keeping an eye out." He smirked and sent a horde of pawns across the board to attack Harry's pieces, which were mostly unprotected, now that he'd moved all his rooks and knights. "Guess you should watch the game, too."

Harry laughed and finally brought his queen to bear, having held her in reserve. "Go get ‘em," he ordered, and the board was soon littered with dust and little chunks of arms and legs. It was fun.

---

That night, after supper and showers and teeth brushing and a story, Father sat on the edge of Harry's bed and made a silencing around them. The night light Harry had brought with him from Spinner's End went through a rainbow of colors before he said anything, though. Harry grew a little uncomfortable under his steady gaze and squirmed away.

"Did you have a good day today?" Father carded light fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead and the scar that Ron had asked to see, earlier. Harry leaned his face into the touch, glad he could have this time alone, sort of, with his father.

"Yes, Father." Harry gave him his best smile. "We visited Hagrid and played Sploden Snap and chess and Charlie told me ‘bout dragons, and he wants to work with them when he leaves school."

"Sploden Snap?"

"It's when the cards all splode everywhere!" He jerked a little, realizing he'd been loud, and looked over at Draco, but his friend was resting peacefully. Then he remembered the Silencing.

"Ah. Exploding Snap. I trust no one lost an eye."

Harry giggled. "No." Then he frowned. "Can you, from Esploden Snap?"

"I very much doubt it," Father said, and his lips twitched a little, like they did when he found something funny.

"Good. Are Ron and Charlie gonna come back again?"

"Would you like them to?"

"Yes, Father. But maybe not till after I can use a broom again, ‘cause Ron and Charlie both play Quidditch, too, and I'd like to play."

"I suppose we could delay it that long," Father said slowly, and his lips did that thing again. "Perhaps next week. They can come over and stay for a few days, like Draco is now."

"That'll be brilliant!"

"Hush, Harry. You're supposed to be settling down now."

"Sorry, Father. Are you gonna tell me another story?"

"No, Imp," Father said with an almost full smile. "I'm not going to tell you another story now. But I am going to start teaching you something that may help with your nightmares." He held up a finger in warning when Harry flinched away, suddenly apprehensive. "If it doesn't work, you are not to feel guilty about this, all right? It might not, but I think we should try."

"Yes, Father."

"And if it doesn't work, and you wake up again tonight, what are you going to do?"

"Send a message to you," Harry whispered. There was a weird lump in his chest, and it made his eyes sting, too. "So you can help me."

"Exactly. I will always be here if you need help, Harry. I just wish you didn't have to go through these night terrors at all. Understand?"

Harry drew a shuddering breath. "Yes, Father."

"Good. Now close your eyes. I'll put my hand here. I want you to think of something pleasant, yet quiet, that can take up all your thoughts. Hm. Do you like to look at the sky, Harry?"

Harry nodded, feeling safe with the weight of Father's hand on his chest. He thought of the sky painting on the ceiling of his room at Spinner's End, and the clouds that trailed across it, making pictures sometimes. "And clouds," he murmured.

"Yes, and clouds. Now, keep a good picture in your mind of the clouds, and focus on your breathing. I'll breathe with you, just follow along. Breathe innnnn. Breathe ooouuuut. Innnnn. Good, now oooouuut." While Father spoke, Harry kept a picture of the ceiling of the other room in his mind, imagining clouds floating by and turning into bears, and ships and mountains. Father smoothed circles on his chest, one way with the breathing in, and reversed for the breathing out. His words were soft, almost like he was telling a story, and Harry relaxed further and further while the sound of ‘In. Out," kept time with his breaths.

After some long while, when he was almost sure he was already asleep, Father's hand stilled on his chest. His voice sounded far away when he said, "Keep your mind on the clouds, Harry. Watch them carefully, and if anything comes into your dreams, just bring back your picture of the clouds."

A whisper touched against his forehead; Father's thin lips. "Love you, too, Daddy," Harry murmured, but he wasn't sure his words traveled any further than his own mouth.

When the red-eyed demon invaded his dreams this time, he pushed him - and the green light - up into the sky and covered them with clouds the shape of ducks and apples and dogs like Fang. It was hard, and it hurt his head, but when he woke, he was trembling and in a cold sweat, but not screaming.

He was so surprised he forgot to send the white message. But Father came anyway, and held him close until he could do the breathing again.