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 God's sake."

Hagrid looked horrified as he lowered a gasping Harry back to the floor. Harry stumbled a little and wrapped his arms around his ribs. Lupin grasped his arm to steady him as Snape swept around the staff table and off the platform, his robes billowing with a magnificent fury that matched the look on their wearer's face. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall followed more sedately and Molly hurried along behind them, her face creased with worry.

"Harry, I'm sorry," moaned Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes overflowing with tears and the handkerchief in his hands being wrung into a spiral so tight, the wrinkles would never be able to be smoothed.

"Harry, speak to me!"

"Hagrid, calm down," ordered Lupin who was still supporting Harry as he bent over his arms in an effort to ease his discomfort. He really felt as if he had at least one cracked rib but he had to reassure his friend. Harry could hear the devastation in his voice.

"I'm OK Hagrid," he gasped. He knew it wasn't enough, he could hear Hagrid's teary moans of anguish but he was hurting too much to stand up straight and show that his claim of being OK was true.

Hagrid had backed up but the others were clamouring around Harry. When it looked as though he would collapse to his knees, Remus put an arm around his back.

Severus' wand appeared in his hand and he summoned a chair. As he reached Harry and pushed Lupin aside, he grasped the chair back and lowered Harry onto it.

Harry's breath was now raspy and perspiration was beaded across his forehead. Severus' face was contorted with rage as he swept his wand over the distressed boy. The look of rage intensified as he continued assessing and all the teens, except Ginny fell back to stand with Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Minerva and Molly.

Ginny, tears starring her eyes, knelt down next to Harry and put her hand on his knee.

"Miss Weasley, kindly move away!" barked Snape, unceremoniously.

Ginny glared at him but moved to obey until Harry put his hand over hers to keep her in place. "No," he gasped, "I want her to stay."

"What you want is of complete indifference to me, Potter." Snape's voice was implacable. "Now move Miss Weasley. You will be able to fawn when I have once more put this foolish boy back together again."

Ginny threw the nastiest look she could muster at the horrible man but did as she had been ordered. Molly took her in her arms and hugged her. Ginny swiped a hand across her wet cheeks and took a deep breath. She refused to succumb to any more tears. She turned in her mother's arms and watched Snape's every move.

The hall was silent except for Hagrid's noisy sobs, Hermione's sniffles and Harry's raspy breathing. Snape's expression became even angrier as he moved his wand in intricate circles over Harry.

"What's wrong with me?" Harry managed to gasp out, but a deeper pain rolled through him and he could not suppress a moan, though he tried valiantly, not wanting to upset Hagrid anymore than he already was.

"Shut up, Potter. Save your breath," bit out Snape, as he finally stowed his wand. He turned and addressed Dumbledore.

"Albus, the hospital wing is closer than my chambers. Could you levitate him there, please?"

Harry jerked upright. "What! No!..." But any further outburst was cut off when his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

With those amazingly fast reflexes that he hid so well, Dumbledore had his wand in his hand and Harry caught up in his levitation charm before the boy became boneless enough to topple off the chair. Harry floated upwards to the level of the wand that held him aloft.

"I will meet you there as quickly as I can." And Severus swept past the hovering crowd, ignoring the blubbering half-giant completely as he headed for the huge fireplace to floo to his chambers. There would be time enough to deal with the fool later.

Right now, he had potions to retrieve. He did not want to use those already in the hospital wing as they were old stock. He had not had time to re-stock yet as his time had been taken up with the dilemma of Harry Potter. And that dilemma did not look like it was going to end any time soon.

Ten minutes later, Severus swept into the hospital wing and approached the bed Albus had placed the boy in. He stalked past the cluster of worshipful supplicants and was grimly pleased to see that Hagrid was not amongst them. No doubt, he had skulked off to cry into a bucket sized goblet of mead; or more likely, fire whisky. But Hagrid's absence notwithstanding, Severus did not want any of them there and to that end, he spun around to face them.

"Out!" he snarled.

Granger and the Weasley boys jumped to obey but mother and daughter Weasley stood their ground and glared at him. Nymphadora had a hold of Lupin's sleeve and was tugging, but Lupin held firm.

"Now, Severus, we need..."

Snape cut him off with a vehement hiss. "It is what I need that counts, Lupin. And I need to work in peace and quiet. I do not need to be listening to any more weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, whilst I attempt to put that fool of a boy back together again."

Lupin had paled under this onslaught, but his chin came up and he gazed back at Severus with dignity. "Very well. We shall wait outside until you have the time to tell us all how Harry is faring." And he turned and left the room with Tonks still clinging to his arm.

Snape rested his stygian gaze on the Weasley matriarch. She still stood her ground but she shooed her clearly reluctant daughter out after Lupin. Then, with a wave of her wand, she shut the doors, clearly so that the adoring crowd beyond would not be able to hear whatever it was she had to say.

Severus was secretly amused at her bravery in standing up to him but he did not, by even the slightest quirk of his lips, let her see. He cut her off at the pass before she could get into her stride.

"I do not have time for idle chitchat, Madam."

"I won't keep you for but a few seconds, then, Severus. But I feel it is my duty to tell you that you are a truly nasty man. Your contribution to our cause is invaluable, and obviously we are all greatly indebted to you for what you do for "the Order". That debt now extends to your saving Harry's life.

"But I am here to tell you, that unless you can learn to treat people like human beings, it will not matter how many good deeds you perform, you will die a lonely and bitter man. Now go and tend Harry."

And with that, she turned and with a swish of her wand, she swept through the opening doors. They closed behind her with a muted click.

Severus shut his mouth with a snap as soon as he realised that it had fallen open during Molly's tirade. Did the foolish woman not know just how nasty he could truly get?

He stood for wasted seconds glaring at the closed doors through which she had disappeared. The urge to follow her and really put the fear of Salazar Slytherin into her was almost overwhelming.

"Severus..." Albus' worried voice hailed him and he came back to the here and now and the problem Harry Bloody Potter.

In his exuberance, the half-giant had indeed cracked not one but three of Harry's ribs. Severus administered a dose of skelegrow; one of the few healing potions he had not had to use on the boy since this whole business had started.

The ribs were easy enough to deal with but more worrying was the fact that the boy's easily shredded liver was oozing blood again. He had to hold his healing crystal over the swollen, friable organ for fifteen minutes before the blood trickling into the abdominal cavity was staunched.

It took another twenty minutes to spell the blood out of Potter's abdomen, administer a sealing potion that Severus hoped would encapsulate the abused organ until it had time to heal properly, and give a further dose of blood replenisher.

At the end of treatment, the boy was awake and aware but clearly exhausted. It had been painful, despite the pain relief Severus had administered before even starting. Minerva, once again in her role of nurse, had conjured a bowl of warm water and a face cloth. When she would have started to wipe Harry's face, he tried to take the cloth and do it himself but Minerva slapped his hand away, albeit gently, and proceeded.

"I can do it," groused Harry. His belligerence was muted, however, by the weakness of his voice and Minerva ignored him.

Dumbledore and Severus were talking quietly but intensely over near one of the windows. Harry could tell Snape was angry and that Dumbledore was trying to pour water on the fire of the younger man's temper. Snape was looking down into the grounds and Harry knew that from that vantage point, Hagrid's cabin was clearly visible.

Snape's voice had risen a little and Harry clearly heard the words "unthinking" and "totally irresponsible" and "danger to them".

Harry was worried. He pushed himself into a more upright position, ignoring McGonagall's protests and the many twinges of pain. Both wizards turned around to face Harry when he cried out, "Professor Dumbledore, you can't punish Hagrid, Sir! He didn't mean to hurt me. He doesn't know his own strength, is all."

Harry's eyes were beseeching as they tracked Dumbledore's progress back to his bed. Snape stayed at the window, arms crossed and his habitual scowl in place.

Dumbledore patted Harry's knee through the covers and smiled reassuringly. "Harry, I have no intention of punishing Hagrid. Accidents will happen, and I blame myself for today's mishap more than anyone else. It is I who encouraged Severus to let you venture so far away from your sick bed."

"But I'm not sick, anymore." protested Harry. "I just...I just need to regain my strength and normal activity will surely speed that along."

"With care, I am sure that is correct," agreed Dumbledore. "But we did not count on the exuberance of your friends-particularly your biggest friend."

Over near the window, Snape snorted. Dumbledore ignored him. "Do not worry about Hagrid, Harry. I will visit him later to set his mind at rest. I am sure, by then, he will have punished himself quite thoroughly."

"Yes," scathed Snape. "And no doubt he will need a bucket of hangover cure to counteract his punishment."

Dumbledore closed his eyes momentarily, as though his patience was being sorely tried. Then he peered over the top of his half moon spectacles at Severus. "I do believe you have an appointment in the dungeons, Severus. Correct me if I am wrong, but I think you have less than ten minutes to tend your potion."

As Harry watched, what little colour adorning Snape's face drained away completely. To check the headmaster's pronouncement, he pulled a battered silver watch from a hidden pocket in his robes and stared at it. Then with his lips pressed tightly together, he swept towards the fireplace in Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Professor Snape!" Snape squared his shoulders and turned at Potter's summons. He lifted a thin eyebrow in question.

"May I get up now?"

Snape looked as if he might explode. "Do not even think about getting out of that bed. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Perfectly," snarled Harry, bitterly.

In the next instant, his gaoler had disappeared through the office doorway and seconds later, there was a whoosh and a flash of green.

8888

Severus stood over the tiny, gold cauldron, the scarlet, pearlescent brew within bubbling gently around the edge. He had already cleansed his finger with the alcohol and was holding the lancet, ready to jab his finger.

The cheerfully bubbling brew seemed to exhort him to get on with it. It would be quick; the tiny discomfort would be hardly noticeable. And he would not miss the drop of blood that would perhaps change his life for ever.

If things turned out for the worst (Dumbledore would, of course, say it was for the best) did his life really have to change? He could ignore the results. If the boy never knew then Severus could just push the knowledge behind his strongest Occlumency shield forever and forget about it. Life would go on as before.

Potter would heal and he would go back to his relatives to keep his mother's blood protection active. Perhaps Dumbledore would let him spend some time with the Weasleys. The wards at the Burrow had already been strengthened and the property was now under the protection of the "Fidelius Charm".

And he would brew his potions for the school, for the Order and for The Dark Lord. He would get ready for the next school year. He would answer any summons made by his Master, and attend meetings for the Order. In his spare time, he would be underground, spying for Dumbledore and plotting against The Dark Lord.

He would not have time to learn how to be a father. And even if he did have the time, he was not sure he had the inclination, or that he could learn to care for "The Boy Who Lived".

Severus took a deep breath and let his head drop forward onto his chest, his hair swinging forward to hide his face. His thoughts turned to Lily, his one true love. Yes, she had chosen Potter in the end but Severus knew she had been fond of him. If he had not gone looking for glory and recognition and acceptance within the Dark Lord's forces, she may have looked on him in a romantic light. After all, she had detested James for a good many years. She had never detested him, despite his chosen way of life.

Who knew what would have happened if he had not tried to blot out the memory of his miserable childhood by hanging onto a crazed xenophobe's coat tails whilst he created a new World Order, where pure-blood wizards and the privileged few like himself who had much to offer the Cause, would rule supreme; all other magical creatures would be controlled and tagged and would bow down to wizards. And Muggles would be killed or enslaved and Muggle-born witches and wizards would be denied a wand and then killed or enslaved.

Yes, he had embraced the Cause. After all, it was a Muggle who had made his childhood so miserable. It was a Muggle who had been the cause of his mother's misery and ultimately, her early death. And it was Tobias Snape that the Dark Lord had given to Severus as his first kill, the day after he had been branded as belonging to Lord Voldemort.

Severus had been sixteen that July, and eager to prove himself. He had been at Malfoy Manor when he had been branded, and it was there he had been given his assignment.

He had travelled home by train because though he was a Death Eater, he still did not have his Apparition licence, though he knew how to Apparate. His master did not want attention drawn to any of them by the flaunting of petty rules and regulations. After all, Severus was still at school and had a good vantage to keep an eye on the young witches and wizards who had rejected their cause out of hand. He could also keep an eye on Dumbledore to a small degree, much as Lucius had done before him.

Severus had waited for his father to come home that night. He knew that he would be drunk. He planned to taunt him, beat him and degrade him before he killed him. Just as he, loathsome Muggle that he was, had beaten and degraded his wife, Severus' mother.

Severus had waited for hours and in the end, none of it had come to pass. Oh, Tobias Snape had died but Severus had missed the pleasure of performing the task himself. The police had come to the door late that night and informed him that his father had been killed in a pub brawl.

Severus remembered his shock, remembered how the two police had been so solicitous of him he remembered how the young, pretty WPC had made him a cup of tea in the gungy kitchen and enquired of him if he had any relatives he wished them to call.

He had sent them off with assurances that he would be fine-had lied to them about his age, implying that he was eighteen and could look after himself. He had thanked them for their concern.

The Dark Lord had been sympathetic that Severus had not, after all, been able to deal with his unworthy father himself. But there was no shortage of Muggles and it had not been too many weeks later, before the start of his sixth year, in fact, that Severus had killed his first Muggle.

It had sickened him-the torture even more so.

It was only from the perspective of many years hence that Severus had thanked Merlin that he had not, after all, had to kill his father. Patricide was not one of the sins that could be laid at his door.

But there were countless others.

Would Lily be happy to know that her beloved son had the chance to be able to call her old childhood friend, "Father"? Would she think that it was a betrayal of her husband, or would she only think of Harry and what it could mean to him to have a living parent? After all, it had been she who had begged Severus to save James' life by giving him some of his blood. She had studied the properties of magical blood in her work as an "Unspeakable". Surely, she would have known the risk of Severus passing on some of his magical signature to James.

The relationship between himself and James had been the reason she had come to him for assistance, not Black or Lupin. His and James's magic would have had a common denominator because of their familial bond. Lily had known this-she had hoped that the two signatures would overlap and blend, and not have one battling for supremacy over the other.

And she had been right. James had survived and had apparently continued to live a normal life, with his magic seemingly unaffected by the "foreign' signature-because they had been so alike anyway.

Had Lily known when she had found out she was pregnant that Severus's magical signature may have been laid down in her child's makeup-had she known that her son very likely had three parents?

Severus prayed that she had known. If, in fact, it turned out to be true.

8888

Severus did not realise Albus had arrived until he felt the lancet being removed from his numb fingers. All the old wizard said was, "Which finger?" and Severus presented his left hand and held up his index finger.

He kept his eyes averted like a small child as Albus pricked the finger and carefully massaged the blood towards the small wound. But when Albus lifted his hand over the cauldron, he could not help but watch as the crimson drop seemed to fall in slow motion before disappearing below the surface of the scarlet, pearlescent brew.

Albus was stirring carefully with the golden rod and Severus, ignoring his bleeding finger, watched, mesmerized as the crimson mixture slowly turned darker and darker. Albus did not need instructing, he himself was an accomplished Potioneer, though he had never become a Master, and he knew to keep stirring, though nothing else seemed to be happening.

One minute...two...three. Severus held his breath and at four minutes, the potion began, imperceptibly, to lighten again. After another minute, there was no mistaking that the mixture was definitely paler in colour.

They had their answer, but both wizards continued to watch and when, finally, the faintest tinge of pink had disappeared to leave the mixture the pearly colour it had been before the boy's blood had been added that morning, Albus stopped stirring.

Severus could not drag his eyes away from the beautiful, shimmering surface. There could be no question; the potion had gone through the whole of the documented transition without a flaw. If Severus was not Harry's father, the brew would have turned totally black and then, instead of steadily lightening to its original colour, his blood would have caused the black liquid to coagulate.

His and Potter's blood had merged perfectly.

Severus supposed he had expected this result. Despite all his denials, all his protestations and his railing at Albus, he had known, deep down what would happen today. That tell tale mark on the boy's leg-the shape, the size, the colour, the location-the combination of all those factors, added to his history with James, did not add up to a coincidence. He had known that. But he had not wanted to admit it.

It was difficult to get his head around the fact of just how perfectly his blood had blended with Potter's, when neither of them could be in the others company for any period of time without there being disharmony and outright combat.

A far cry from those two, harmonious drops of blood.

Albus was bustling around like somebody's wife, spelling the flames out, disposing of the contents of the cauldron, and washing the golden implements with warm water and a non abrasive cloth. Severus watched him with a detached gaze and when the old wizard had put the valuable equipment away, he lifted Severus' hand and spelled it clean of a surprising amount of dried blood (he had not known he had bled so freely) before taking his elbow and guiding him from the laboratory and back to the sitting room.

Dumbledore guided Severus into a chair. He was as compliant as someone who had been confunded. The black, hooded eyes watched as Dumbledore poured a measure of single malt into two squat tumblers. When he took the glass held out to him, he stared into its amber depths for a minute or so before seeming to come out of his reverie. He looked at Albus with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.

"I thought I was on rations."

Albus chuckled. "For medicinal purposes, my boy." He held up his own glass in a toast.

"To the new father."

Severus scowled. "Not so bloody new. Thirty-six is too old to embrace fatherhood when it is neither expected, nor wished for."

"Ah, but my boy. You have not become the father of a new infant. You have become the father of a young man. And not just become, I might add; you have been Harry's father since the day of his conception."

"And I am supposed to rejoice in that? Not only is "The Boy Who Lived"-with all his attendant problems-my son, but I didn't have any of the fleeting pleasure that the conception of a baby is supposed to afford." He scowled at the remains of his whisky and then threw it back, the harsh liquid searing his throat and oesophagus.

"Once again, my esteemed cousin beat me." The words were perhaps not quite as bitter as they may once have been.

"Yes, Severus, it was James who experienced that fleeting instant of pleasure. But James is dead, and he only had fifteen months in which to cherish his son. You and Harry have the rest of your lives to build a relationship."

Severus slammed his glass down on the small table beside his chair and bounded to his feet, unable to stay still. He paced backwards and forwards as he had done earlier that day, as one worry after another crowded his mind.

"The rest of our lives! The rest of our lives may be very short lived! The Dark Lord is determined to kill my son at any cost and has obviously got sympathisers within the school willing to help out.

"And if that creature ever detects the slightest inkling of my new knowledge, I will be a dead man." Severus rounded on Dumbledore, a slightly crazed look in his obsidian eyes.

"But not before he forces me to bring my son to him so that he can kill him in front of me." He threw his arms wide and the crazed look intensified.

"Albus! This is madness! I do not know if I can bury this knowledge deeply enough. You will have to "Obliviate" me. It is too dangerous for the boy."

"I do not think we need to go that far, Severus. Obliviate you? Before you can experience the wonders of fatherhood."

"How would you remember the wonders of fatherhood, Old Man?" asked Severus peevishly. But before Albus could answer, Severus continued to rant.

"And fatherhood could perhaps be wondrous if the child was anyone other than "Harry Idiotic-Gryffindor-In-Every-Sense-Of-The-Word Potter!" If it is up to me to be responsible for the infuriating young fool, I may very likely kill him in very short order. That is, if he does not kill himself first during one of his idiotic forays into danger, or the Dark Lord does not get him. Nor indeed, one of his minions."

"Yes, I agree, my boy. You will certainly have your work cut out for you."

Severus snorted. "Well, that's fine. I have scads of spare time. I'm frequently bored out of my brain trying to think up tasks to counter the boredom of my days."

Dumbledore chuckled. Severus' devastatingly acerbic tongue had cut many an unwary communicant to ribbons. The man had a brilliant mind and he did not suffer fools gladly. If he was not interested in what a person had to say, he reduced him or her to a quivering mass with a devastation that was painful to watch. There were few who were game enough to duel the precision instrument that was Severus Snape's tongue.

The poor student body lived in constant fear, of course. Mere adolescents stood absolutely no chance against a man who had a basilisks glare down to a fine art and a vocabulary that was extensive and used with cutting exactitude.

Albus occasionally stepped in to calm a devastated student, especially the first or second years. But in most instances he allowed Severus free rein, as long as it was only his tongue that he used to maintain discipline.

And though Severus' temper was legendary, Albus knew his self control was unyielding. Albus would not tolerate corporal punishment within his school and Severus had never crossed that line.

Most of the students professed their hatred for their Potions Professor but few of them had to make use of the hospital wing as a result of the misuse of potentially dangerous ingredients and even fewer of them failed their OWLs.

Severus maintained that a firm hand and a cutting tongue prepared the students for the realities of the big, bad world. And all but the very rare few, at least had a rudimentary knowledge of basic potions.

The student who had pushed him closest to losing that formidable self control, was of course, Harry. But Harry had always been a special case and the potential for disaster had always been there.

Harry's initial bewilderment at obviously being signalled out for "special" treatment had turned to active dislike and anger. Severus Snape and Harry Potter had always reacted to each other like oil and water. And Albus knew most of the fault lay at Severus' door, as he was the adult.

It was his history with the Marauders and Harry's relationship with and resemblance to his hated cousin that had been the mountain that Severus had found impossible to scale. But despite the "James Factor", Severus had managed to overcome that emotional block enough to pull out all the stops to help keep Lily's beloved son safe.

And now, this embittered, talented and powerful young man had another emotional hurdle to try and overcome. Albus prayed that this amazing development would eventually lead to self-forgiveness and peace for the troubled soul of Severus Snape.

The discovery that one had a son who was also part of the only woman one had ever loved, was a miracle.

A truly, magical miracle, made all the more miraculous because of the seemingly unprecedented occurrence of the child having two fathers; and the knowledge that one of those fathers had never lain with the mother.

8888

Now Albus watched with amused concern as Severus stalked about his sitting room, his robes billowing impressively and giving him the appearance of the bat that the students often likened him to.

Albus decided he had let the boy hyperventilate long enough.

"Severus!" The commanding tone was-despite the lack of volume-enough to halt Severus in his tracks.

"Please sit down."

Severus glared for several seconds but Albus just looked calmly back over the top of his steepled fingertips.

Like a petulant child, he threw himself down with a huff and a flurry of robes and glared at the logs in the fireplace with an intensity that could have sent them up in flames.

Albus decided that the best course of action was to take the bull by the horns. "When are you going to tell Harry about his changed status?" he asked in a calm voice.

Severus' brow creased. "Change of Status?"

Good, thought Albus. No explosion. "Well of course, my dear boy. Harry is no longer an orphan."

Severus stared at his friend and mentor for several charged seconds before he turned back to the fascinating view of stacked logs in the cold grate. A slim, elegant hand crept up to massage his forehead in an attempt to get rid of the throbbing pain that had taken up residence there.

"The boy has managed well enough as an orphan for the last fourteen and a half odd years. I seriously think it would be unwise to change the status quo."

"You do not think Harry has the right to know he has a father?"

"We have discussed this, Albus. It is my opinion that he would rather be an orphan that find out that I am his father. One of his fathers."

"And I have told you that that boy has a great capacity for forgiveness, Severus."

The younger man glared at Dumbledore with gimlet intensity. "I also need to be able to forgive, Dumbledore. Our mutual enmity is a double- edged sword. It is not all down to me."

Albus raised a white eyebrow, his expression edging away from patient indulgence. "That statement, my dear boy is both childish and patently untrue. You are the adult, Severus and you started in on that child as soon as he first set foot in your classroom. He did not know what hit him.

"Asking a Muggle raised child what he would get if you added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood, or where he could find a Bezoar, or what the difference is between Monkshood and Wolfsbane, was cruel."

Severus' mouth had fallen open in shock.

"It was nothing but pure spite and you know it. You knew it then, but you saw James and you went for his throat.

"No doubt, your Slytherins were highly amused to see you cut the "famous Harry Potter" off at the knees within days of his starting at Hogwarts.

"In point of fact, there was only one person in that first year class who could have answered those fifth year questions. Indeed, she was eager to do so but you totally ignored her because you were not interested to see who knew the answers, you just wanted to ridicule James' son."

When Severus continued to gape at Dumbledore, the old mage elaborated. "I was curious to see how things would pan out when you had Harry under your power for the first time.

"I disillusioned myself and entered the classroom behind the children." He fixed the embarrassed young man before him with a beady eye. "I was disappointed, to say the least.

Severus' hands gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckled ferocity. Patches of red rode high on his cheekbones. "Why did you never say anything?" he hissed, but clearly uninterested in the answer, he continued, "How dare you spy on me in such a fashion. How often has this clandestine behaviour manifested itself, Albus? Or was it just the impulse of the moment?"

"It was entirely a spur of the moment decision, Severus. I was crossing the entrance hall and the first year Gryffindors were trailing down to the dungeons. I saw the apprehension in Harry's little face-he had obviously noticed the death glares you kept shooting at him during meals-and I decided to follow and observe. I had never done it before and I have never done it since." Dumbledore had the grace to look a little ashamed of is actions.

"You are very good, you know." The bitter words were not a compliment. "Perhaps you should do your own spying amongst the ranks of the Dark Lord from now on."

Dumbledore sighed. "However abhorrent my actions that day, your own were worse Severus. You are taking refuge in anger because you know you were at fault. But now you have a chance to make amends."

Severus fumed for several more seconds, but then it was as if all the air had been let out of him and he sagged bonelessly into the depths of the chair and leaned his head back, most unlike his normal, rigid posture. His eyes were closed and his voice immensely weary when he said. "He will never accept me. He will think he is betraying James' memory."

Albus sat in silence for several minutes, his intense, blue eyes fixed on the ceiling and the tips of his long fingers tapping against each other.

Finally, he said, "You could start by telling him about the request his mother made of you and why she asked you, and not Sirius, or Remus."

"And when do you suggest we indulge in this chit chat, Albus? When we are sitting in cosy proximity in front of the gentle flames licking at the aromatic pine logs in the fire...he reading "Quidditch Through the Ages" and me caught up in my latest Potions journal. Or perhaps when we are playing chess and exchanging fond banter across the board, I could throw it in."

"You are a clever, resourceful man, Severus. You will find the opportunity, I am sure. After all, you will have plenty of time. Harry obviously needs more time to recuperate fully, so he will be here with you for however long you deem necessary. After all, you are the healer and I would never presume to tell you your job."

Severus snorted inelegantly. "Of course not. Never been known to happen."

Albus unfolded his long, loose frame from the deep armchair and straightened his flowing, royal purple robes. "Perhaps we should adjourn to the hospital wing and see how our Mr Potter is faring after his latest mishap."

Another snort followed Albus as he disappeared in a flash of green.

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Still dusting off his robes, Severus entered the hospital wing. He stood just inside the doorway to Pomfrey's office and looked towards the bed in which he had left his patient. He could only assume that the boy had obeyed him and was still in the bed, as it was impossible to see him through the circle of bodies surrounding it.

Dumbledore had been incorporated into the crush and was standing at the foot of the bed talking to the werewolf. He still had the young aura attached to his arm and she seemed reluctant to release him for even a second. But where she looked radiant, Lupin had a slightly hunted look about him; his stance was determinedly relaxed but his face was tense and drawn, more tired looking than it should be considering the full moon was still a week away. It was as if he had tried but failed to disabuse the young witch of the advisability of setting her romantic heart on a werewolf. Nymphadora Tonks was a determined young woman and it would seem that Remus Lupin was trapped.

The girl was a fool and if the look on his old school nemesis's face was anything to go by, he thought so too.

Molly Weasley was chatting to the Metamorphmagus and as there were no askance looks in Lupin's direction, it would seem the Weasley matriarch had given her stamp of approval to a second romance this day.

The troublesome Weasley twins were conversing and gesticulating with flamboyant gestures to two-thirds of the golden trio; the red-haired third of whom was looking excited but the "Know-It-all" third was looking mutinous and entirely disapproving of whatever hair brained scheme was being hatched.

So, where was the little Weasley Princess? Severus stalked closer until he could see between Granger-who was sitting on the edge of the bed-and Dumbledore.

Ginevra was curled on the top of the covers, her back propped against a pillow-padded headboard and her arm around Potter. His head was resting on her shoulder and her other hand was playing with his unruly mop of hair. Neither of them was talking but they seemed to be communicating in another way.

The boy's eyes were open but they were staring at nothing. He looked exhausted, and even though his face was drawn as the result of lingering pain, Severus was sure, he appeared content. The two of them were isolated on a little island of peace while the madness went on around them. The hovering horde were allowing them their moment of separation. Probably, Molly Weasley had seen that the boy was at the end of his tether...after all she had probably nursed all her children through various illnesses, and so would be aware of the signs, despite the bravado Potter would no doubt have been trying to exhibit.

She probably also knew just how weak the boy was because she was not objecting to her daughter reclining on a bed with the boy she imagined that she was in love with.

At their ages, it could only be imagination. Surely.

But then Severus thought of how long he had loved Lily and how old he had been when he had first realised it. And James and Lily had been married at eighteen, Lily had been pregnant at nineteen and she and James were parents at twenty. They were both dead at twenty-one.

It was his job to make sure the boy-his son-lived much longer than James and lily.

It was Granger who noticed him first. She jumped off the bed. "Professor!"

All heads swivelled around to look at him and he assumed the scowl they all expected to see. It felt familiar on his face. Granger had moved back and the three Weasley males stepped up to make a semi-circle around her. They glared at Severus and he wondered if they really thought to intimidate him. Idiotic young fools.

The adults' expressions ranged from amusement...Albus, tight-lipped disapproval...Molly, tired regret...Lupin (whatever that was about) and false bonhomie...Nymphadora.

Severus ignored them all. His eyes slid to Harry who was extricating himself from Miss Weasley's attentions and trying to sit up, a grimace of pain accompanying the movement. The girl was unfolding her legs decorously and sliding neatly to the edge of the bed where she jumped down and stood next to her brothers. She kept her eyes averted from him but watched Harry with concern.

"I believe it is time for this worshipful congregation to disperse." The teens looked mutinous. "Mr Potter, as I am sure you must all realise, needs to rest."

"He has been resting." snapped the fiery little red-haired wench. Funny-Lily had never had the purportedly explosive temper usually attributed to red-heads. She had been the definition of cool and logical.

"I meant, Miss Weasley, in peace and quiet. Two commodities difficult to come by in a room full of chattering people. Now..." he stepped up to Harry's side. "I bid you all adieu."

Severus reached for the covers but Harry stayed his hand by grasping his hand. Severus looked at the pale, long fingered hand on his sleeve and then raised an eyebrow. "There's something you want, Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Something," he said in a determined voice. "Is my system free of all the poison?"