"Oomph!" Harry's arms automatically wrapped around the limpet who was clinging onto him like a lifeline, but he staggered backwards under the force of the impact and would have fallen if he had not been propelled into Snape, who had entered the hall directly behind him.

It was a close thing but Severus just managed to stop Potter crashing to the floor with the idiot, Granger on top of him. The foolish girl was still hanging on for dear life, sobbing into Potter's neck. Severus set the boy back on his feet but kept a hand against his upper back to stabilize him until he was rid of his burden.

"Miss Granger!..." Hermione lifted a puffy, tear streaked face and Harry was able to push her exuberant hair out of his face and the lock that had ended up in his mouth, he pushed out with his tongue, then picked off with his finger and thumb.

Over her shoulder, Harry could see Ron and the twins advancing a little more sedately, grins splitting their faces in half. The grins slid away like stink sap, however, and their pace slowed at the sound of the potions professor's angry voice.

A red-faced Hermione was loosening her stranglehold as Snape continued his rant. "...Kindly conduct yourself with a little more decorum. Mr. Potter is convalescing and your exuberance, whilst endearing..." Here, he sneered unpleasantly, "...will not aid his recovery when it takes such a physical form. Now kindly extricate yourself from about his person."

Hermione had been attempting to do just that whilst Snape had been lecturing but Harry prevented her removal from ‘about his person' by refusing to loosen his grip.

He was peeved with Snape for attempting to dictate the actions of his friend so he grinned into her red, mortified face then whispered in her ear. "Thanks for the greeting. I missed you too." And, in a most un-Harry like action, he kissed her on the cheek. His cheeks bloomed with colour at his own audacity, but he would willingly swallow a cauldron full of bubotuber pus before he let Snape have the upper hand.

Snape snorted in disgust and stalked off to join his colleagues. All this saccharine sweetness was making him sick to his stomach. He had never understood the almost cosmic connection the three troublesome Gryffindors had with each other. His observations over his years of teaching had shown him that it was rare for more than two individuals to maintain the sort of close bond that Granger, Potter and Weasley had sustained for five years. If there were three within a clique, then there was usually one on the outer.

He knew that it had not always been plain sailing amongst the three. The ‘Know-It-All' had been on the outer when the escapee, Black, had anonymously sent a ‘Firebolt' to Potter during their third year and she had been sensible enough to report the extravagantly expensive gift to Minerva. The broom had been confiscated and subjected to a battery of tests to make sure it was not jinxed or charmed to cause the boy harm when he was in the air. The two Quidditch mad, fast broomstick mad, thirteen year olds had taken exception to their more cautious friend's actions and had not spoken to her until the broom had been returned.

She, of course, had forgiven them.

And Severus recalled another period of distinct frostiness between Weasley and Granger that had something to do with the disappearance of a pet rat that had turned out to be the animagus, Pettigrew.

He also knew that there had been a rocky period for Potter and Weasley at the start of the ‘Tri-Wizard tournament' and had been one of the only ones not to be surprised by that turn of events. It could not be easy for the youngest Weasley boy to be in the shadow of his best friend all the time, much as he had always been in the shadow of his older, talented, (and Severus would deny strenuously ever calling a Weasley talented) brothers. In point of fact (and he would deny this observation to beyond the grave) Severus had a modicum of grudging respect for the red-haired side kick. There were not many males out there who would be able to stand being constantly overlooked because their best friend was the famous Harry Potter.

Still and all, small hiccoughs along the way or not, the golden trio were very close. This overt display of affection was proof that Granger was exceedingly fond of Potter. And his smiling acceptance of her stranglehold hug showed that he felt the same for her. Severus was not entirely sure if there was a romantic attachment but he had never noticed that particular brand of clingy, handholding, whispering ‘sweet nothings in the ear' kind of closeness between Granger and Potter. Nor indeed, Granger and Weasley.

But then again, he did not go out of his way to work out which of his students was romantically involved with another. Teenage love did not interest him in the least. Unless, of course, the couples romantic idiocy affected their concentration in his classroom.

Having reached his colleagues, Severus ignored them for the moment and grabbed up a goblet and filled it with red wine, slugging back half of it in one go. He glared back at the cluster of Gryffindors. Let the fool of a boy collapse under the burden of hero worship.

Ron, Fred and George's grins had re-appeared when Snape had stalked off and they hurried to join Harry and Hermione. Hermione was still sniffling but she had let Harry go.

The Weasley brothers clapped Harry on the back and began clamouring for answers. "Blimey, Harry...when Mum and Dad told us what had happened..." said Ron in a half whisper.

"Yeah, Mate," continued Fred. Talk about a shock!"

"Mind you," added George. "We had to do some fancy translating before we actually knew what had happened because Mum was sobbing so hard, it was impossible to understand her. Dad was only a little more coherent."

Harry grinned happily at his friends, glad as always to be in their company. It had only been a week since he had seen Ron and Hermione but he had not seen the twins since their spectacular ‘Stuff of legends," exit from the school back in May. He wondered whether they had opened their joke shop yet and what their mother thought of their endeavours.

"Well, you lot probably knew much more about what was going on ages before I did," said Harry, addressing their concerns for his welfare first. "I've only been awake since yesterday morning. So I've had a lot to take on board in a very short time."

"Oh, Harry! How can you be so blasé," sniffed Hermione. "You nearly died!"

"Yeah, well..." Harry took a deep breath. "It's not like that's a new experience for me, Hermione."

"But this was different. Someone within the school did this to you."

Hermione looked like she was going to start crying again but Harry's attention was diverted from her when he found himself the recipient of another ferocious hug. He knew who this was because he had become quite dependent on these arms wrapping around him. It was the closest thing to a motherly hug he had ever experienced. That he could remember, at least.

Molly Weasley had forged a determined path between her three much taller sons to get to the boy she had adopted as one of her own. She did not care that she had not been able to do it through legal channels. Harry Potter was as much a Weasley as any of her own children were. And Arthur, bless him, was of a like mind.

Harry patted Mrs Weasley awkwardly on the back before stepping back and smiling at her. "I'm fine, Mrs Weasley. Really."

Molly wiped her eyes with a scrap of lace edged cotton as she looked up into Harry's dear face. She had to raise her eyes a few inches higher now. He had grown a little since she had last seen him but was still much smaller than any of her boys. Her motherly eyes inspected Harry from head to toe and her dismay was evident in her appalled tone.

"Harry, you most definitely are not fine. You are nothing but skin and bone!" She drew herself up determinedly and her sons backed up a step, wariness stealing over their freckled countenances. Their mum was on a mission and woe betide any one who got in her way.

"We'll see about you not coming to ‘the Burrow' for the rest of the holiday. Just see if I don't." And with those ominous words and one final, loving pat to Harry's cheek, she stalked off to confront Albus Dumbledore. Harry's fond gaze followed her. She was one of the only people he knew who was not frightened to give the headmaster a hard time. He hoped desperately that she could prevail but was afraid that Dumbledore had his holiday all mapped out for him. And he was even more afraid that he would still have to spend time at the Dursleys so that his mother's sacrificial protection would remain active.

Harry turned back to his friends. He felt an overwhelming wave of affection for them all. Hermione was being mother again and jumping on some asinine plan that the three red heads were in the process of hatching. Harry grinned. Some things never changed. He was so glad that he was still around to watch his female friend talk verbal circles around the troublesome twins and their easily led younger brother.

She did it so well, almost as if she had taken lessons from the

Weasley matriarch. But still, she had a long way to go before she had Fred and George truly cowed. Maybe not quite so long for Ron, though, thought Harry with a knowing smirk.

There was one, however, who was the equal of Molly and on occasion had one or another of the Weasley men in a state of apprehensive expectancy.

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked when he could get a word in edgewise.

"I'm here."

Harry spun around. Ginny had just entered the Great Hall. Harry had no idea why she had not been there with the others but he did not care. She was here now; and only now that he was looking at her did he realise that he had been seeking her since the second he had realised that his friends were here.

She looked beautiful. Her long, dark red hair was caught up untidily on top of her head leaving her slim neck and shoulders totally exposed except for the thin straps of her dress. She wore a white sun dress that hugged her petite form to the waist where it was cinched in by a green leather belt and then flared out into a full skirt that fell to about three inches above her knees.

God, Harry thought. She even has pretty knees.

Harry's legs moved of their own volition, his eyes drinking her in. She was like a long, cool drink of water to a man dying of thirst in the desert.

He was standing in front of her in a surprisingly short time. She must have moved too. He knew he was grinning like a loon but Ginny did not seem to mind. She was smiling back, her brown eyes soft as she gazed into his face.

She did not tell him that he looked terrible-and he knew he did, he had looked in the mirror that morning-she just raised a hand and cupped his cheek, her eyes ranging over every inch of his face. Harry stood, soaking in her beauty, the feel of her skin against his.

When she had looked her fill, she gazed into the emerald eyes that she had loved for four years now and asked, "You're OK now?"

Harry nodded and she stood on tip toe and kissed him gently on the lips.

Then she whispered in his ear, "Don't ever frighten me like that again."

And Harry took Ginny's hands in his and leaned forward, bumping his forehead lightly against hers and resting there, content to be this close.

At odd moments since he had awoken from his coma and when his mind was not stressing about the identity of the person who had so very nearly killed him, or the subsequent actions of Professor Snape, Harry had found himself thinking about Ginny Weasley and the kiss they had shared in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Of course, those thoughts had segued to the scene in the Entrance Hall when his memories of Sirius had risen up inside and guilt had swamped him again, convincing him that he had no right to any kind of relationship that would make him happy. And the kiss in the common room had convinced him in a flash that if he could be happy with anyone, he could be happy with Ginny Weasley.

But he had walked away from her. Walked away from the person who had offered to be there for him in a way that Ron and Hermione could not, close as the three of them were.

As much as he loved Ron and Hermione, he knew that just talking about the happenings of that night at the ministry and his own culpability was not enough. After all, all the comforting words they had offered after the horrors of Voldemort's return in that graveyard thirteen months earlier, had not made him forget. Even Hermione's hugs, whilst welcome could not erase the utter terror he had felt that night.

His memories were his own and translating them into words for Hermione and Ron could never really convey the terror, the hopelessness and despair. No words could convey the depth of his guilt for having suggested to Cedric that they both take the cup, thus ensuring the older boy's Death. Or the fact that his blood had helped resurrect Voldemort, or his inability to shut out the vision that had led to his flight to London-the precursor to Sirius leaving headquarters and coming after him.

These were all memories that he wanted to relegate to the furtherest reaches of his mind. He did not want to keep on talking about them. Hermione's idea that reliving the events was cathartic and would eventually lead to acceptance and self-forgiveness, was not a sentiment that he agreed with.

He wanted to forget, not to wallow in misery. And perhaps it was the result of his own near death experience that had made Harry see the light. But he knew now that Sirius would not want him to continue with his self-castigation. Sirius would want him to get on with his life; he would want his godson to be happy.

And somehow, Harry knew that Ginny was just what he needed to make him happy. He knew that she would let him take the lead when it came to unburdening himself. He knew she would be there to listen if he needed an ear but she would not push. And she would be able to make him forget in ways that Hermione and Ron could not. He would be able to lose himself in her arms...in her kisses.

He would not walk away again. As long as she wanted him, he would be hers.

8888

Harry and Ginny both seemed to become aware at the same moment that the voices that had been echoing around the vaulted emptiness of the Great Hall moments-or was it hours ago, had fallen silent.

The only noise in fact, was an intense hissing sound overlaid by what seemed to be scuffling feet.

Harry pulled back from Ginny but maintained a determined grip on her hand. He was not willing to relinquish her entirely just yet, not when he was finally able to hold her again.

Ginny was looking past him and grinning delightedly at something. Harry spun around to see what had her so amused.

Hermione had a determined hold on Ron's arm and was attempting to hold him back. It seemed that he was set on joining Harry and Ginny where they now stood and Hermione did not much like his plan. She was hissing furious admonitions in his ear. The twins were looking a tad nonplussed as their eyes darted from their little sister and a very ‘up-close-and-personal' Harry Potter and their stony-faced little brother who was trying to extricate himself from one very angry Hermione Granger.

"Aha!" exclaimed Fred.

"Our baby sister and ‘The Boy Who Lived' to nearly die again, and again, and again..." said George in a scandalised tone.

"And our Ronniekins is not a happy camper," added Fred. "But Harry's your best mate."

Ron scowled at his brothers before throwing a glare at his sister and best friend. "She's too young to have a steady boyfriend."

"Oh rubbish," hissed Hermione. She's already had a boyfriend for most of the last school year."

"Yeah! But even though he was a prat, at least Michael Corner was just a normal boyfriend." The redness suffusing Ron's ears was migrating downwards; his forehead and cheeks were quickly taking on the same hue.

"No offence Harry, mate, but I don't think you should be thinking about girlfriends while you've obviously got a big target painted on your forehead."

The silence that surrounded Ron's outburst had become charged. Harry's pallor had increased but Ginny's face had taken on much the same colour as her brothers. She wrested her hand from Harry's and marched across to Ron. With all the fury an angry Weasley female could muster, she poked him in the chest with a finger that was as rigid as a cattle prod.

"I think I told you before, Ronald, it is absolutely none of your business whom I decide to have as a boyfriend. You are not my father!" The finger was pulled back and re-applied with fierce precision several times before Ron fell back under the onslaught and rubbed his abused chest. He still looked belligerent but wary defensiveness was also added to the mix of emotions showing on his face. When he glanced across at his silent best friend, guilt had also taken up residence there.

"And if I were Harry," added Ginny in a voice tight with disgust, "I would seriously be reconsidering if I wanted you to continue to hold the position of my best friend!"

Fred and George had backed away, well out of range of any fallout from the explosion of temper this very small, scary virago had just unleashed. Hermione had also stepped back from Ron and she had her arms crossed and was looking at him as though she would like to do more than just poke him in the chest.

Ginny spun around to stalk back to Harry but she suddenly stopped dead as her angry gaze alighted on something over his shoulder. The colour in her face darkened further. Harry followed her gaze. All of the adults were watching the scene that had just played out with varying expressions adorning their faces.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling with amusement as was to be expected. When he saw Harry and Ginny looking at him, he raised the goblet he was holding in his hand in a silent toast to them. Harry could only assume that they had all seen his and Ginny's greeting to each other before the confrontation between the siblings.

Professor McGonagall's eyes were not twinkling with amusement but then again, they never did. Her lips, however, were not clenched in a forbidding, straight line. In fact, for her, her expression was quite neutral.

The other teachers present were smiling with varying degrees of amusement-except for Snape. He was looking even more sour than when he had stalked away from Harry, his sneer firmly in place. His look implied that he would very much like to make it illegal for anyone under the age of forty to even think about having a romantic relationship.

Harry did not much care what Snape thought. He wouldn't know a positive emotion if it bit him on the bum anyway. He did, however, care what Molly Weasley thought.

Harry's eyes were wary as they rested on Ginny's mum. Would she echo her youngest son's sentiments and think that Harry was too high risk to be in a relationship with her only daughter?

Molly had her lower lip between her teeth and the hand still holding her handkerchief was clenched at her bosom. Harry could see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. He was not exactly sure what that meant.

A small hand crept into his and Harry realised that Ginny had re-joined him. She was not looking at him. Instead, she raised her determined little chin defiantly in her mother's direction, daring her to try and object to her choice of boyfriend.

She tugged on Harry's hand and pulled him in the direction of the table set for the young people. Harry saw Molly start on course to intercept them and his stomach gave a nervous little lurch. He did not know what he would do if Mrs. Weasley forbade her daughter from having a relationship with him.

Molly reached them as they reached the table and much to Harry's relief, she swooped on the two of them and clasped them both to her breast. Her words surprised Harry even more than the action.

"I am so happy for you both." She beamed tearily from one face to the other. "I have often thought how lovely it would be if you both got together."

She kissed Ginny and then Harry on their cheeks. Then she cupped Harry's cheek with a loving hand and said in a whisper. "Don't worry about Ron. He's always been very protective of Ginny. He'll come around."

"He'd better!" hissed Ginny through gritted teeth, throwing a venomous glare at Ron. "The prat!"

Harry could only concur. Ron had hurt him with his attitude. But he supposed if their positions were reversed and his sister was going out with a guy who seemed to attract trouble like a magnet attracted metal filings, he would feel much the same way.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew now that he needed Ginny and he could not let her go. Not even for Ron.

Fred, patted Ron on one of his hunched shoulders. "Looks like you lose, Little Bro," he said cheerily.

"Yeah, get over it Ron," added George. "And try to remember that Harry is supposed to be your best mate." He and Fred left Ron standing with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his worn jeans.

He looked imploringly at Hermione who had her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her lips were set as thinly as Ron had ever seen Professor McGonagall's and her usually warm eyes looked like chips of stone.

"What?" he whined, and then lowering his voice, he said. "I'm just worried, all right. Harry's got a lot of stuff going on. You know that Hermione.

"God, not only is Voldemort after him but now someone within the bloody school itself is targeting him. Ginny could get hurt just by being close to him."

"So could I Ron! But I'm not going to walk away from him. I'll be there as long as Harry needs me. And I will do everything in my power to try and keep him safe. As will Ginny, who by the way is a very mature, nearly fifteen year old who can make her own decisions. She doesn't want a baby-sitter and she most certainly doesn't need one. She can look after herself and Harry will protect her. You know he will keep her safe."

Hermione's eyes softened a little as Ron looked more and more ashamed of himself. She moved closer to him and put her hand on his arm. "I know how upset you were when we heard about what had happened to Harry, Ron. The three of us are a team. Now it seems that our team has expanded to four. Be happy for them. I am.

"And if you continue to be a pain in the butt, you will drive Harry away and your sister will end up hating you."

Hermione squeezed Ron's arm and then left him alone to ponder her words.

8888

Both tables were laden with delicious smelling food by the time Ron walked up behind Harry and Ginny. Everyone was laughing at an anecdote told by George about the time Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had come into their new shop in Diagon Alley and how he and Fred and Lee Jordan had let them browse for twenty minutes and fill their arms with merchandise only to be told when they had eventually deposited their shopping on the counter that "Weasleys Wizard Wheezes did not serve overlarge Slytherins who could only boast one brain cell between the two of them.

Harry was laughing just as hard as the others but he knew exactly when Ron slouched up behind him. He tensed involuntarily and Ginny, whose chair was so close to Harry's that their arms were touching, looked at him enquiringly. She saw Ron hovering out of the corner of her eye and she too stiffened.

Harry didn't think he could take Ron repudiating him.

George's voice trailed of and he and Fred looked at Ron with identical expressions of amused interest. Hermione kept her gaze fixed on her plate but she was as tense as Harry and Ginny.

Ron cleared his throat. He looked down at his trainer shod foot that he was scuffing across the floorboards. "Harry, mate. I'm sorry."

Harry didn't move. He kept his eyes on his plate. Ginny had gripped his hand and was squeezing it hard.

"Ginny's right," continued Ron, his voice now a little louder as he got into his stride. "I'm a prat. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Would you like me to spell it out in words of one syllable?" snapped a clearly unappeased Ginny. It was Harry's turn to squeeze her hand warningly and she huffed out a disgruntled breath but fell silent all the same.

"No. She's right, Harry. She always tells it like it is. And she's usually right."

"Who's she? The cat's mother?" asked Ginny, clearly unable to hold her tongue. But she sounded a little mollified now.

"No. She's the prat's sister," answered Ron, an abashed grin quirking the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, very good, Ron! crowed George. "That comeback is worthy of one of your older, infinitely more intelligent and quick witted, twin brothers."

He and Fred high fived each other. "Don't forget devastatingly handsome," added Fred.

George nodded in agreement. "That goes without saying, Fred. And devastatingly handsome, sadly, is something Ronniekins will never be!"

"But finally it seems, we are rubbing off on our little bro, oh twin of mine," opined Fred. "All is not lost. It would seem that prefect Ronnie isn't going to turn into prefect/head prat, Percy."

"No," added Harry, turning sideways in his chair and looking Ron in the eye. "It would seem that Ronnie is definitely taking what we could call, ‘the Fred and George route.'

Ron grinned and he and Harry eyed each other for several silent seconds. The grin had just started to falter under Harry's piercing green-eyed gaze but then Harry grinned back and for good measure, he elbowed Ron none too gently in the stomach.

"Sit down, Prat," Harry ordered and Ron moved with alacrity to sit down next to Hermione.

He was grateful for the fact that he had Harry and Hermione between himself and his little sister. He was under no illusion that she would forgive him as fast as Harry had done. He would have to get her by herself and beg on bended knee for her forgiveness. She was a hard nut to crack, was Ginny.

Ron could not think what kind of a brain snap had led him to object so strenuously to his best mate and his sister becoming an item. Yeah, he wanted Ginny to be safe but now he could think clearly instead of through a haze of red, he could see that she was in plenty of danger just by being a member of the Weasley family-the Weasley family who were the biggest bunch of blood traitors in wizardom and who were also known to be great friends of Harry Potter.

Yeah, those two facts were enough to get them all killed, now that ‘He Who Must Not Be Named' was back and was no longer lying low.

And hey, thought Ron as he stuffed a whole dinner roll in his mouth as he had missed out on the pumpkin soup, if Ginny had to have a boyfriend, Harry was certainly a better choice than any of the many boys he had often seen giving her the eye or making an excuse to talk to her. Michael Corner had only been the first in what could have been a very long list of possible suitors.

Hell, he had even seen Malfoy eyeing her off once when she had been chatting to Hermione in the doorway of the Great Hall and Malfoy had been sitting at the Slytherin table. When he had seen Ron looking daggers at him, he had sneered in that infuriatingly superior way he always did and gone back to his lunch.

Yep, Harry was definitely the best choice. But good luck to him trying to keep that little red-haired firebrand under control. He looked sideways at Hermione who was filling her plate with roast chicken and vegetables with careful precision. She had studiously refused to meet his eye but Ron could see from his sideways vantage, the slight flush in the smooth skin of her cheek and the slight upward tilt at the corner of her mouth.

Yep. Good luck to Harry. He, Ron had his own firebrand to battle.

8888

Severus ignored the delicious food in front of him in favour of filling up his goblet with the very fine red wine again. He was too on edge to eat. He did not know whether he would ever be able to eat again.

But the wine was very good.

Dumbledore watched his young friend as the conversation waxed and waned around them. And when Severus put the ewer of wine down, the old wizard surreptitiously moved it out of reach.

Severus had seen, however, and he watched with a jaundiced eye from his deceptively languid position in his high backed chair, as the interfering old man put a serving of chicken and a variety of vegetables on the plate in front of him.

When Albus met his eye, Severus raised his goblet and took a long defiant swallow.

"I am not a child who needs to be told to eat, Albus," he said with barely restrained anger.

"Then stop acting like one." Albus leaned in closer and when Severus would have raised the goblet to his lips again, Albus put a light but firm hand on his forearm, forestalling the movement.

"You have a job to do in a very short while, Severus and I imagine that a steady hand will be of infinite assistance." He leaned back in his own chair.

"Please eat, my boy."

Severus did not think that Dumbledore would make a scene in front of the many pairs of eyes in the Hall but he did not want to risk it. The old wizard would get his own way by hook or by crook and Severus would much rather not be the cynosure of all eyes, particularly those of the boy and his friends.

He might have seemed to be entirely too interested in the contents of his goblet but Severus had been monitoring Potter carefully. He had relaxed a little when the Weasley girl had led Potter over to the table and they had both sat down. The boy was still far too pale and he needed to rest after the long walk through the dungeons.

Severus knew the ridiculous scene staged by the two youngest Weasleys for the entertainment of all would have upset Potter, even while he refused to show it. The young fool was entirely too emotional for his own good and though he would put on an indifferent air, falling out with one of his cohorts in crime would seriously affect his emotional well being.

Severus, however, agreed with Ronald Weasley's sentiments about the association of his sister with ‘The Boy Who Lived', but for an entirely different reason. Taking up with young Ginevra was not what Potter needed at this time in his life.

The boy needed to concentrate on surviving. And it seemed as if that task was becoming harder and harder. Potter had enemies everywhere and the task of protecting him whilst maintaining his standing with the Dark Lord was becoming more and more complicated.

Thankfully, he had been left in relative peace to minister to the boy following the poisoning because the Dark Lord was himself, unwell.

Following the happenings at the ministry when the arrogant megalomaniac had possessed Potter in the hopes that Dumbledore would kill the boy, he had not counted on the experience having such a detrimental effect on himself.

But that is just what had happened. Albus had explained it by saying that the boy had been in extremis because of the excruciating pain the Dark Lord's possession was causing and he had prayed for death to overtake him. In that moment the thought of seeing his recently deceased godfather again had suffused his soul with love and the Dark Lord had been unable to remain; he had fled Potter's body in unspeakable agony, having only the wit to collect a trapped Bellatrix before he had disapparated and collapsed back at his current sanctuary.

Severus had been summoned even whilst Dumbledore had been speaking to a distraught Potter in the Head's office. Severus had attended the man he pretended to serve and prescribed potions for the earth shattering pain he was still suffering from, pain that had continued unabated for over a week.

He had sent Severus away after he had supplied a dangerously high number of doses of his strongest pain relief. The Dark Lord had desired that no-one but Bella attend him.

Severus had made sure to express dismay at being so summarily dismissed and had begged to be allowed to stay and minister to his Lord and fully supervise his care and medication. His request was, of course, denied.

No-one second guessed The Dark Lord.

In actuality, Severus was hoping against hope that the creature-Severus could no longer think of him as a man-would succumb to his condition or at the very least, that he would overdose on the potion. Severus had chanced increasing the strength of the already dangerous brew with those hopes in mind but all it had done was make him almost comatose for many hours at a time, only to awaken, still in dire pain and demand another dose from a terrified Bellatrix.

The deranged woman had contacted Severus through the Dark Mark on more than one occasion, sobbing with fear about the prolonged and deep sleeps that her master was experiencing and screeching that Severus do something more.

He had pointed out that it was best for their Lord to sleep through the pain and that it would eventually ease. The time would come when he would awaken to be virtually pain free. And as the man she worshipped wished things to be this way, Bella had been too afraid to do anything else.

So she had sat and stroked his skeletal hands and soothed his fevered brow, never giving a thought to her husband or her brother-in-law who had both been captured by Dumbledore and were now back in Azkaban. The mad woman fulfilled the position of ‘sycophant-in-chief' very nicely indeed.

Severus couldn't stand her.

Last night had been the first time that Severus had been summoned since he had first attended the Dark Lord after his unfortunate encounter with Harry Potter. His pain had now eased to a tolerable level but he needed more potion, though this time weaker as he did not want to sleep his days away any longer as he had plans to make.

As had been planned between himself and Dumbledore, Severus had told his master about the fact that Harry Potter had been hurt before he had left the school. He had, of course, failed to indicate how close the boy had come to death and he had intimated that Potter was under the weather eye of Poppy Pomfrey in the hospital wing and that he had not been consulted regarding the boy's condition, nor his care.

The pretence was always maintained that though Dumbledore trusted Severus, there were certain things the old man kept him apart from; one of those things was the Defence Against the Dark Arts position and the other was anything to do with Harry Potter that did not fall under his purview as a teacher at Hogwarts.

In actual fact, Severus had never coveted the DADA position though he knew he would have made a far better teacher than any of the other fools who had held the position over the years.

Well, perhaps the werewolf had made a tolerable show, he grudgingly conceded.

As he picked up his cutlery to appease the interfering old coot beside him, Severus' eyes strayed back to Potter. The boy was picking unenthusiastically at the small serving of poached chicken and mashed potato and gravy that had appeared already served up before him as per Severus' earlier orders to the elves.

Severus smirked as he took a bite of his own admittedly delicious food. Potter had thrown him a dirty look when his bland meal had appeared. It was obvious, even after being denied bacon and eggs that morning that he had expected to be able to eat a proper lunch. Severus knew, however, that the young fool would not be able to tolerate anything but the bland offerings he was allowed to partake of at the moment.

The Weasley girl was whispering in Potter's ear and the besotted fool was smiling at her adoringly, his meal forgotten though Severus could see he had eaten only about half of it. Watching the pair of them from his vantage point, it slowly dawned on him that he could be watching Lily and James. His gut clenched and he carefully placed his knife and fork down on his plate, his belatedly awakened appetite disappearing again in a flash.

In profile, Harry Potter was even more like James, with his perfect, neat nose and his glasses and that unruly shock of black hair. That there could be any of his own genetic makeup in the boy, seemed to be so far out of the realms of possibility as to be totally ludicrous.

Of course, he himself did have Potter genes but it was very obvious that the courser Snape traits had overshadowed anything that his mother had contributed to his makeup. Except for the darkness and thickness of his hair, perhaps; his father's hair had been sparse and a very nondescript brown. Severus remembered, with a rush of dislike for his paternal parent, that his hair had always appeared stringy and dirty and that his scalp had always shone with the grease coating it.

Forcing these unpleasant memories deep, Severus focused on Ginevra Weasley. She was at this moment laughing into Potter's face, her face alight with happiness. From this distance, she could have been Lily.

But Severus knew the likenesses were superficial. Lily had been about half a head taller than this girl, her figure more shapely. Her hair had not been as dark a red and of course, her eyes had been exactly the same colour and shape as her sons. Ginevra, like her mother and her brother Bill, had brown eyes. All of the other Weasleys had blue eyes.

Severus knew the girl was pretty, more than pretty really; beautiful in a youthful, wholesome way. But in his opinion, she was a pale imitation of Lily. Lily, the girl he had loved. And the girl with whom he had, perhaps-and however ludicrous the idea-contributed, along with James, the building materials that had shaped another human being.

Before he could become lost in introspection, there was the sound of rapid footsteps crossing the flagstones of the entrance hall and a second later, a dishevelled figure rushed through the open doorway and stood, slightly unsteadily, looking around frantically.

Lupin. Severus' face fell into the familiar lines of deep dislike as soon as he recognised the newcomer. He reached for his half empty goblet and downed the contents in one swallow. He needed more wine if he was to put up with the werewolf.

"Remus!" Dumbledore had risen to his feet to greet the newcomer.

Within seconds of Lupin's appearance, another figure appeared at his shoulder, this one much smaller and more breathless, now bent double with her hands on her knees in an attempt to get her breath back. Severus did not need to see the ludicrous turquoise hair to know he was looking at Nymphadora Tonks.

Remus Lupin ignored the call of welcome from Albus Dumbledore. His eyes were scanning the vast hall. There was a smaller, second table at the base of the staff platform and Remus sagged with relief when his eyes fell upon the tousle haired youth who had jumped up and was now rushing towards him.

He moved forwards and clasped Harry to him. He could not help it. When he had returned from his assignment for ‘the Order', he had found Tonks at headquarters and she had told him what had happened to Harry.

Remus had not wanted to go on assignment so soon after Sirius' death. He had wanted to be around for Harry but Dumbledore had said he needed him in the field. Of course, Remus had known that Dumbledore was sending him off to take his mind off the loss of Sirius; as if anything would have been able to accomplish that. Dumbledore had appeased him by saying that they would be keeping a much closer eye on Harry and that he would be fine.

Famous last words, of course.

Harry returned Remus' hug. He had last felt those arms clamped around his body in an effort to stop him following Sirius through the veil. He had heard the anguish in his soft, husky voice as he had tried to calm Harry.

And then Harry had wrenched free and sprinted after Bellatrix and he had not seem Remus since. Now, Harry's guilt and shame rose up and he heard himself apologising to the man who was the last of his father's best friends.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," said Harry, his voice thick with emotion. "It's my fault Sirius is dead. You had not long had him back and I took him away from you again."

Severus watched through hooded eyes as the werewolf held Harry at arms length and shook him gently in admonishment. He listened as Lupin absolved the boy of any wrong doing and assured him that he did not hold Harry responsible. Severus approved of the way Lupin was handling Potter's fragile emotions even though he could not approve of the man himself.

"The ones responsible for the loss of Sirius, Harry are Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange," Severus heard him say. Then he clutched Harry to his chest again and sighed into his hair.

"But I could have lost you too Harry. Dora told me what happened; she told me also that you were recovering nicely . But I had to see for myself."

Harry pulled back and smiled up into the careworn face of his father's last remaining friend. "I'm fine Remus. Really." He lowered his voice a little. "Professor Snape saved my life."

Harry felt Remus jerk where his hands had hold of his shoulders. His head turned toward the top table; his eyes sought Severus. Black eyes bore into brown and when finally Remus inclined his head slightly in thanks, Severus returned the gesture with the merest movement before looking away.

He watched dispassionately where Granger and the Weasley brood stood around Nymphadora, all chatting happily. Lupin and Potter had just joined them when there was another commotion in the entrance hall. All eyes swivelled around and alighted on Hagrid who had just huffed into view, his tablecloth sized red, spotted handkerchief mopping the small amount of skin visible amongst all the black, wiry hair.

"Harry!" The half giant had swooped with remarkable speed and had Harry lifted into a rib cracking hug before anyone could blink.

Severus jumped to his feet. He was damned if he would stand by and watch all his hard work be undone. The boys liver, spleen and kidney's were still rather friable. Granger and Lupin had been overly enthusiastic in there greetings but Hagrid was just plain dangerous.

His deep voice reverberated around the hall. "Hagrid! Release him at once." Have a bit of care man. He has just been at death's door, for Merlin's sake.