"Home. Now," Severus spoke finally, in a voice that was low and controlled, but thrummed with anger.

Harry didn't dare oppose him. He nodded silently and started for the castle, anxiously gripping the handle of his Firebolt. Severus strode along beside him, his jaw tight and his lips set in a thin line, the wind lifting strands of his black hair from the collar of his sodden cloak. They quickly left the crowd of silent, curious students behind them and headed up the hill towards Hogwarts, its stone towers and spires a dark outline against the grey sky.

They did not speak until they were back in their rooms. Harry kept glancing nervously at his father's stern profile, but Severus stared straight ahead as he swept along. Only when they were in their parlour and he had closed the door to the outside corridor...with a soft click that somehow seemed more ominous than if he had slammed it...did Severus speak.

"Explain," he said, his voice still very careful and precise as if that were the only way he could control his temper.

Harry swallowed. Somehow his reasons had seemed so much more plausible inside his head than now when he was faced with this moment.

"Um, well, you didn't actually say I couldn't play and I thought..." Harry began.

"You thought what? That I was only offering a suggestion? Don't insult my intelligence or yours by pretending that, Harry! You knew perfectly well that I did not want you to play in that match today and you deliberately chose to disobey me. You snuck off early this morning to avoid me and to prevent my keeping you at home, and even worse, you lied to me by leaving that note," Severus snapped.

"I didn't lie in the note," Harry made one more effort at self-justification. "I said I wasn't going to watch the match, and I didn't."

Severus stared at him in silence for a long moment. "Are you seriously telling me that you did not intend that note to be misleading?"

Harry started to say something, then abruptly stopped. It was suddenly hard to meet his father's gaze and he bowed his head. "Yes, sir, I did...mean it to be misleading," he mumbled.

"So you admit that you were dishonest and disobedient?" Severus asked coldly.

There was a cold lump in Harry's stomach and he found it difficult to speak. His father was right. He had been dishonest and disobedient, and there just didn't seem to be any excuse for it. Not as good as Severus had been to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"So am I," Severus continued, still speaking in a voice like ice. "I thought you were more mature than that. I thought I could trust you."

He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was different, still cool, but also heavy with disappointment. "But I was wrong."

Those words were a knife in Harry's heart. He wanted to protest, to tell Severus that he was trustworthy...but how could he with the pain and disappointment of his betrayal lying there between them? His eyes filled with tears and he stared at the floor through blurred vision.

"I am too upset to discuss this any further right now," Severus finally told him. "Go to your room and stay there."

Harry nodded, feeling as if he would burst into tears if he tried to speak. He turned away and headed for his room, but then Severus spoke again.

"Take a warm shower and put on dry clothes first."

Harry nodded again and shuffled off to his bathroom, his head bowed and guilt tearing at him remorselessly. He stood under the hot water for a long time, wondering how he could have ever been so blatantly disobedient. Truly, he had never meant to hurt and disappoint his father. He had just wanted to play so badly and he had tried to convince himself that it would be all right, that he wasn't really disobeying.

But he had known better deep inside, hadn't he? He just hadn't wanted to admit it. And now he had been stupid and he'd ruined everything.

Oh, Severus didn't actually hate him...Harry didn't think. But he was angry and hurt and disappointed. Worst of all, he didn't trust Harry anymore, and with good reason.

That was the worst part...that he had betrayed his father's trust and now he didn't know how to make it right again. What if he couldn't? What if Severus never trusted him again?

A sob rose in Harry's throat and tears mingled with the water droplets running down his face as he cried. But finally he couldn't cry any longer and he turned the shower off, toweled himself dry and then wrapped the towel around his waist. He slipped his glasses back on and cast a drying charm on his soaking Quidditch uniform before placing it in the hamper. Then he went to his room and dressed in jeans and a black sweatshirt. It really was chilly and he pulled on socks and bedroom slippers too.

Then he sat on his bed and stared dully out the enchanted window at the dark clouds rolling by in the sky and the rain drops that slipped down the glass. After a while, through his guilt and shame, he became aware that he didn't feel good...physically as well as emotionally. Despite the warm fleecy sweatshirt, he was shivering with cold and his throat was sore. Severus had been right after all. He probably would get sick again from playing in the nasty weather.

But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the pain inside, the pain of knowing that he had let his father down.

Harry looked over at the closed door, wondering what Severus was doing and if he would come to talk with him. He wanted to see his father desperately, to apologize again and to try to make things right between them. Even if he didn't know exactly how to accomplish it, he wanted Severus to come, to talk, to try to work it out. He would accept any punishment his father chose to give, if Severus would just forgive him.

But Severus didn't come.

Maybe Harry should go to him...but no. Severus had said for him to stay in his room, and Harry was determined that he would obey this time. Every time, from now on. He would never disobey Severus or cause him any trouble again, and maybe, someday, his father would trust him again.

The afternoon crept by endlessly. In spite of his resolve, Harry was tempted several more times to try to find his father. He just hated having this between them, not being able to talk with Severus. He hated knowing that Severus was so angry that he didn't even want to see him or talk with him. In a way, it was almost like being back with the Dursleys, when his aunt or uncle had shoved him into the cupboard under the stairs for hours at a time to keep him out of sight.

Finally just before dinner, Severus came in. He didn't knock this time, but simply opened the door and strode in. He stopped a little ways from the bed and said coolly, "I have been thinking about what might constitute a suitable punishment for your behaviour today. First of all, you will not play in the next Quidditch match. Secondly, you are grounded until further notice. You will stay at home on the weekends. During the week you may eat breakfast and lunch in the Great Hall with your friends, but after class you are to come directly down to our rooms and stay here. Your friends are not permitted to visit until your punishment is over."

Severus paused, his face grim. "Furthermore, after your deliberate deceitfulness today, I do not believe I can trust you with certain items. Please give me your Firebolt, invisibility cloak, and that map of the school."

Harry gave him a stricken look, but without a word he got up from his bed and went to his trunk to get the cloak and the map. He realized he had left the Firebolt in his bathroom and fetched it as well. Biting his lip to hold back tears he silently handed them to his father.

"You will eat your dinner in here tonight." Severus turned to leave. At the door, he said, perhaps a trifle more gently. "I will return your belongings when I can trust you again."

"Severus," Harry said in a choked whisper. "I'm really sorry."

His father only nodded curtly and then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him.

Harry swallowed hard, wincing as his sore throat protested. He felt so horrible, worse than he had in a long time, both physically and emotionally. He threw back the covers on his bed and crawled under them, his body wracked by tremors and his throat aching fiercely.

Harry wondered briefly if perhaps he should go to Severus and tell him how poorly he felt, but he just couldn't. He had disregarded Severus' wishes and flown in the cold rain and it served him right if he got sick again. He couldn't go whinging about like a baby over something that was his own fault. Severus might even think he deserved to be ill and to feel bad.

Well, no, he probably wouldn't think that. But Harry did. Severus was already so angry and upset with him, and rightfully so. Severus obviously didn't want to be around Harry or to have anything to do with him for now. He didn't even want to eat dinner with Harry.

And although knowing that his father didn't want to be around him hurt more than anything ever had before, Harry had to respect that and not bother him, especially not for something that served him right. Being ill would just be another part of his punishment. Harry wasn't going to complain about it.

A short while later a bowl of soup, a plate of sandwiches, and a glass of juice appeared on Harry's desk, but he wasn't at all hungry. The juice was tempting. He was thirsty and the cool liquid would feel good sliding his throat, but at the same time, Harry just didn't think he had the energy to drag himself out of bed to get it. He didn't have his wand close by so he couldn't summon it either. Anyway, he felt so weak and shaky that he didn't know if he had the strength to call the glass to him.

Well, he would just go to sleep and try to forget this terrible day. He didn't even feel like changing into pyjamas. Harry laid his spectacles on the table beside the bed and closed his eyes. He ignored his aching throat, and burrowed down under the blankets, in a vain attempt to get warm. He didn't think he would ever be able to sleep, but finally, after a long while, he managed to drift away into unconsciousness.

***

Harry woke in the middle of the night. He was shaking with chills and his throat burned so badly he couldn't bear to swallow. He began coughing, which made his throat hurt even worse. Once again, he thought about going to Severus, but once again he dismissed the idea. This was part of his punishment. He had brought it all on himself and he wasn't going to disturb his father in the middle of the night complaining and acting like a spoiled brat. Maybe if he still felt poorly, he'd tell Severus in the morning, unless his father noticed on his own.

But Severus hadn't noticed that he felt badly earlier in the evening, had he? And that wasn't like him. He was usually so concerned about Harry's welfare.

Or maybe he had noticed and he really didn't care anymore.

But that thought was unbearable and Harry pushed it away. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. He just felt too awful. Harry pulled his blankets tightly about himself and lay there, shivering and coughing.

By the time morning finally came, Harry was utterly miserable. He didn't feel like leaving his bed for breakfast and he wasn't at all hungry. But he was terribly thirsty and though he was still determined not to whinge to his father, he couldn't help but hope that Severus would notice that he was ill and would offer him a potion anyway, even if Harry was being punished.

He lay in bed for a little while. He really did hate to have to get up and he hoped that maybe Severus would come to check on him if he didn't show up for breakfast. After all, his father had said that he only had to eat dinner in his room and they usually ate together if they weren't dining in the Great Hall.

But Severus didn't come.

He must still be furious with him, Harry thought with a mixture of sorrow and shame. Reluctantly he dragged himself up and made his way out to the living area on shaky legs.

There was a single plate of eggs and bacon and another glass of juice sitting on the table in the dining alcove and a note rested beside it. It reminded Harry of the note he had left early yesterday morning and for the thousandth time he wished he could go back and change it all. If he could, he would have never disobeyed his father.

He glanced at the letter and his heart sank when he read it.

H.

I will be working in my office today. Remember you are to stay at home. I have already informed your friends that you are not allowed any visitors for the time being.

S.

It was a cold impersonal note and it hurt Harry just to read it. He could imagine Severus' voice, cool and aloof and distant, saying the words. He sighed, set the letter aside, and drank the juice. The eggs and bacon were not at all appealing. In fact, the smell made him feel vaguely nauseous.

Harry slowly crept back to his room and climbed back into bed.

It was late in the afternoon when Severus returned to their quarters. He had spent most of the day researching the effects of flaxseed on memory potions, or attempting to anyway. Normally he would be relaxed and content after having a day to indulge in brewing, but not today. Today he was still so upset with Harry that he hadn't even been able to stay focused on his work. He had kept making the most ridiculous mistakes, measuring the wrong amount of ingredients or losing count of the strokes while he was stirring.

Finally he had given up, placed a stasis spell over his cauldrons hoping that perhaps he could salvage something of his potions later, and had returned home.

Severus looked at Harry's closed door and ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps he should go and talk with his son. He had avoided Harry earlier. He had lost his temper with Harry before, back at Prince Hall over the summer, and it had led to disaster. Severus had not wanted to risk saying or doing something that he would regret later.

But now that some time had passed Severus could admit that he was really more hurt than angry. He had trusted Harry and Harry had flagrantly disobeyed him.

Still Severus had calmed down enough to acknowledge to himself that Harry was not the first teenager to disobey a parent; nor would he be the last. Severus was still very displeased, but he hated having discord between them. Perhaps it was time to talk with Harry again.

He started for his son's room and then stopped as he noticed the dining table. The breakfast plate he had ordered for Harry still sat there, untouched, as was another plate of shepherd's pie that the house elves must have sent for lunch.

For just a second, Severus felt a rush of fury. If that boy had had the nerve to sneak off again...

But no, he truly didn't think Harry would do that. Why hadn't the boy eaten anything that day then? Was he that unhappy? Well, yes, he probably was. Harry was a good boy and that act of willful disobedience really wasn't like him. Most likely he was very upset, too. Yes, they needed to talk.

Severus went to his son's door and knocked on it. "Harry, may I come in?"

Harry didn't answer, but there was some kind of faint noise and then more disturbingly, the sound of violent coughing. Severus shoved the door open and hurried in.

Harry lay on the bed, under a jumbled pile of covers. He wasn't sleeping though. His green eyes were open and dulled with pain. He was burning with fever too; Severus discovered when he laid his hand on his son's forehead.

The coughing fit ended and Harry managed to say, "Sev'rus, can't breathe good."

And now that Harry wasn't coughing, Severus could hear a frightening wheezing sound with every breath. He didn't waste any time but scooped Harry up into his arms and hurried to the fireplace to Floo to the infirmary.

In a matter of minutes Poppy had Harry settled into bed and was running through diagnostic spells while Severus watched, feeling cold with fear and remorse.

How had he not seen this? His primary reason for forbidding Harry to fly in the match had been a fear that he would become ill. Yet Severus hadn't even checked to see if Harry were well through the night or the day. He had been so angry and hurt over the disobedience that he had completely forgotten the possibility that the child might grow sick.

How could he have done that? He was the adult...Harry's father, though he didn't deserve to be. Why was it that no matter how good his intentions were, he always failed Harry at the times his son needed him most?

"Well, you have pneumonia, but it's in the early stages so that's good. The infection hasn't grown too severe yet." Poppy finished her diagnosis and summoned some vials of potions. "Harry, I need you to take these. One will fight the pneumonia and the other is a fever reducer mixed with a sedative. It will help you to sleep and not cough as much."

But Harry shook his head and his eyes turned to Severus anxiously. "Don't want...sleep. Need to...talk, " he wheezed.

Severus was at his side in a heartbeat. He knelt beside the bed and took Harry's hand in his own. "Shh," he said gently. "It's all right, child. We'll talk later. Take the potions now."

Tears leaked from the corners of Harry's eyes. "Sorry, Severus. ‘M so sorry."

"I know. I'm sorry, too." Tears filled Severus' own eyes, for the first time in years if he had stopped to realize that. "But it's going to be all right, Harry. We're going to be all right."

"Forgive...me?" Harry whispered painfully.

"Of course, if you'll forgive me too." Severus lightly squeezed his fingers.

Harry still looked anxious. "Really? You really...forgive...me?"

Severus felt his heart shatter inside. He leaned over to kiss Harry's forehead and then looked into his eyes as he spoke in a raspy voice. "Yes, child. I forgive you. I love you. Now take the potions so you can begin to heal."

Harry gave a tiny nod. Poppy had moved away to give them a little privacy but now she came close again and held the vials to Harry's lips. Almost at once his eyes closed. Severus and Poppy watched intently until gradually Harry's breathing eased. Severus was reminded again of the time in the summer when Harry's lungs had been damaged so badly, but thankfully he seemed better now.

Still, Severus was worried and once Harry was asleep he turned to Poppy, his eyes burning with questions he was afraid to ask.

"He'll be all right," Poppy reassured him softly. She was running her wand over Harry's chest again and looking relieved. "The potions are working. He'll be completely recovered in a few days."

She put her wand away and looked at Severus somberly. "It's a good thing you caught this when you did, though. If the pneumonia had been worse, I would have had to send him on to St. Mungo's. It would have taken him much longer to recover."

Severus swallowed, feeling his guilt swamp him again. He shook his head. "I should have caught it yesterday." He looked at Poppy bleakly. "I'm a terrible father."

She put her hand on his arm. "I don't know exactly what you're talking about, Severus, but you are a very good father."

Severus shook his head again. "I'm not. He deserves better than me."

"Severus, I'm sure you've made mistakes, because you're not perfect. None of us are perfect. But you love Harry and you are an excellent father," Poppy replied more firmly this time. "Now, Harry needs to stay here overnight, but I'll put up some privacy screens for your sake since I know you'll be staying with him."

Severus nodded and helped her conjure the opaque white screens around Harry's bed. Then Poppy left, saying quietly that she would come back to check on Harry in a little while.

Severus didn't hesitate. He slipped into the bed and gathered Harry close, cradling him to his chest. When his son woke again, Severus wanted to be right there, holding him, making sure that Harry knew he was loved.

His hand cupped the back of Harry's head, his fingers caressing the unruly dark hair. Harry was already asleep, but even so, as night fell, Severus began to sing, softly murmuring the words to an old lullaby as he held his son close to his heart.