Severus was not in the dining room when Harry stalked in. Two plates of sausages, eggs, and marmalade-covered toast rested on the long table, along with tumblers of milk and juice, but the room was empty.

The grandfather clock showed that it was past ten and Harry's anger dwindled beneath a flash of worry. Where was his father? It was a week day; why hadn't he come to fetch Harry for breakfast and lessons? Had he sat by Draco's bed all night and completely forgotten his own son? Was he still there now? Or was there some other reason for his absence?

"Norie? Zan?" Harry called and Norie appeared instantly.

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"Where's my father? He's all right, isn't he?" Harry asked. He tried to hide his anxiety, but he must not have been terribly successful because Norie quickly came over to pat his arm reassuringly.

"Oh, yes, Master Harry. I believe he's still asleep. He called for Zan and me last night...actually very early this morning...to ask us to take turns sitting with Master Draco and not to leave him alone. Zan is with Master Draco now. And Master Severus said that as everyone had had a late night, he thought we could all do with a lie-in this morning. He did say that if you woke before he did that we were to tell you to eat your breakfast and to study on your own until he came down. "

"Oh...all right. Thank you, Norie." Harry eyed the plate of food. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he thought he'd try to eat a bit anyway. He nibbled on his food until he had eaten about half, took a few swallows of milk, and then headed for the library.

In the doorway, he paused and looked about the vast room with its elegant wood-paneled walls, the gleaming leather-bound books on the shelves, and the flowing wine-red drapes at the windows. Leather armchairs in the same deep red colour sat near the carved black marble fireplace and for a moment Harry remembered that awful scene from last summer when Severus had mistakenly blamed Harry for reading his journal. Harry had been a little intimidated by the room for a time afterwards, hesitant to return even with the attractive lure of the books. But that one terrible memory had long since been replaced by happy ones...long hours spent reading companionably with his father, or playing epic chess matches and card games, studying and working together these past few weeks since they had left Hogwarts. The library was now one of Harry's favourite places.

He went over to the mahogany desk where he and Severus kept their school supplies now, took some parchment and a quill from a drawer and his Potions text, and went to a small table near one of the tall windows. Settling himself down, he began to read about brewing anti-dotes for neural poisons.

About half an hour later Severus came in, his black robes billowing. "Good morning, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't awake in time to have breakfast with you. I was up quite late last night."

Harry looked up. All thoughts of potions vanished from his mind. "Why did you give me those tickets?"

Severus arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

But Harry was not in the mood for continuing their game at the moment. He glared at his father. "How could I go to the match? Everyone knows that I'm a slave. They'd all stare and talk, and I couldn't bear it. You said you understood. You said you wouldn't pressure me to leave home."

Severus sat down beside him. "Perhaps Hedwig was thinking that we could go incognito, with polyjuice or by casting glamours on ourselves."

Harry blinked, suddenly feeling deflated and foolishly contrite. Of course they could take polyjuice or use glamours to disguise themselves. Why hadn't he thought of that? How could he have been so stupid? He shook his head in disgust at himself.

"I'm sure Hedwig meant well. She would never wish to upset you," Severus continued quietly.

Harry swallowed and said softly. "Yeah, I guess I owe her an apology. I was so stupid. I didn't even think. They really are a great gift. I was so excited when I first saw them, but then I thought about being a slave and how everyone knows, and I...I was just stupid."

"I imagine that Hedwig will understand that you are tired and have been under a great deal of stress lately," Severus reassured him. "And no one insults my son with impunity, so unless you wish to disembowel frogs this evening, I suggest you refrain from doing so."

Harry gave him a lopsided smile before biting his lip and eyeing his father speculatively. He wanted to ask about Draco, what he and Severus had talked about the night before and how Severus felt towards the other boy now. He wanted to hear again that he was Severus' son and came first. He knew it; and yet he still wanted to hear his father tell him so...except that it sounded so weak and pitiful.

"What is it?" Severus asked.

Harry hesitated, but then shook his head. "Nothing. Just...I was just going to ask you why chopped hellebore roots will counteract curare poison, but crushed roots won't."

Severus gave him a searching look, but then just answered. "Chopped roots retain enough juice to neutralize curare, but the crushed roots do not."

"Oh." Harry turned back to his text. "Thanks."

"Are you reading chapter 7?"

"Yes, sir."

"Finish reading and then we'll go down to the laboratory and brew," Severus told him.

Harry nodded, but couldn't resist grimacing. Of course potions was entirely different now, but it would never be Harry's favourite subject. He couldn't help feeling a bit tense over it and often made silly mistakes due to his nerves. Thank Merlin that his father seemed to understand and was always very patient with him now.

Severus patted his shoulder. "You'll do fine. You are competent at Potions, Harry. You simply have a mental block about it, which is my own fault, I know," he finished, his dark eyes sorrowful and his tone filled with regret.

"It's all right, Dad," Harry tried to make him feel better.

Severus shook his head. "I was horrible to you before this past summer and that is not all right. I know that, but Harry, there is no reason for you to dread Potions anymore. You are bright and talented. These potions are well within your capabilities. Just try to relax a bit."

Harry nodded, but bit back a sigh. If only it were that easy. He wasn't really sure why he couldn't just relax, as his father suggested. He knew that Severus wasn't going to belittle or punish him for his mistakes in potions, not anymore. But he just couldn't help the knot of anxiety that always settled in his stomach when a potions lesson began. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had been once, back when he and Severus were enemies. Back then Harry had been so sick with fear before a lesson that he was often physically ill. So things were much better now, but Harry still dreaded brewing. He thought he always would.

Severus patted his shoulder again before saying, "I'll go up and check on Draco while you finish reading."

He swept out of the library, leaving Harry to stare after him with a wistful, troubled expression.

***

"Harry, you're supposed to be stirring counter-clockwise." Severus' quiet voice cut through Harry's thoughts.

He jumped and glanced down at the cauldron, where he was indeed stirring in the wrong direction, causing the bubbling liquid inside to turn to a muddy-brown colour rather than the clear lilac that it should be at this stage.

Harry flushed and mumbled, "Sorry," as he quickly changed to stirring to the left. It was his third mistake, which was an abysmal performance, even for him. He'd added ingredients in the wrong order, set the flames to the wrong temperature, and now this. Any first-year could have done better.

Draco certainly would have. He had always been the star of Potions class, along with Hermione. And while Severus had favoured the blond boy, Harry had to admit that Draco was genuinely good at Potions. It was something that he and Severus had in common.

"Stop." Severus stepped close to Harry's side and peered down into the cauldron. "I think this brew is beyond repair. Evanesco!" He drew his wand and vanished the anti-dote with a swish. "All right then. Care to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just horrible at potions, Dad. I'm sorry." Harry looked away from his father's piercing gaze.

Severus reached to rest a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, you are not horrible at potions. You are very capable, if you pay attention and don't let your nerves get the better of you."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated.

Severus shook his head and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Enough apologizing. Are you certain that nothing is bothering you? You seem distracted this morning."

"I'm just tired," Harry mumbled.

"Yesterday was very trying," Severus agreed. He sighed and lifted his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, looking weary himself. "It is almost lunchtime. We'll stop here for today and try the anti-dote again tomorrow."

They set the laboratory to rights, Harry putting away the tools and ingredients while Severus used magic to clean the cauldron, and then went back upstairs. There was a salad and meat pies for lunch, but neither Harry nor Severus ate much.

"I'm just not hungry, Dad," Harry said after a few bites.

"Yes, no wonder; we had such a late breakfast," Severus concurred. "I'll put a stasis charm on the food and return it to the kitchen. Perhaps you'll feel more like eating later."

Harry watched as he did so, and then asked, "Dad, could we play chess or read or something?"

But Severus shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but Draco said he felt up to studying this afternoon and it is a school day. In any case, I need to take over sitting with him this afternoon so that Norie and Zan can rest. I don't feel comfortable leaving Draco alone right now and the elves have been up all night. They need a chance to sleep too."

"Oh, okay." Harry tried to hide his disappointment and worry.

"We'll spend some time together this evening, just the two of us," Severus promised. "All right?"

"All right."

Severus left and Harry watched him go, desperately trying to squash an anxious, hurt voice in his mind that put his greatest fear into words.

I'm losing him. He'd rather be with Draco than with me.

***

Harry spent the afternoon in his room...trying to read and play solitaire, trying not to brood, trying to tell himself that he was ridiculous to be so jealous and fearful...all to no avail.

Ron and Hermione fire-called him later in the afternoon, after their own classes. They were both tired too. Ron in particular seemed about to fall asleep and even Hermione was quieter than usual. But they had had a fun time at the masquerade party, and for a little while, Harry let himself be distracted by gossip from Hogwarts.

"Food was awesome," Ron said around a yawn. "Steak and roast chicken and salmon, baked potatoes with cheese and bacon...real bacon too, not those little fake bits. Oh, and the sweets...Harry, you wouldn't believe the sweets!"

"Honestly, Ron, Harry doesn't care about the food," Hermione scolded.

Ron looked at her in disbelief. "Course he does. Don't you, Harry?"

"Um, sure," Harry agreed.

Ron yawned again. "Wish we'd had the day off though. It's not fair, having classes the day after a party."

"I have to admit that I don't think any of us were at our best today," Hermione admitted.

"Yeah, same here," Harry told them. "You wouldn't believe the stupid mistakes I made in potions this morning."

"Sure we would," Ron joked. But then his grin faded and he frowned thoughtfully at Harry. "So what's wrong? Any more trouble with Malfoy?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why does everybody keep asking me that?" Harry demanded.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Maybe because it's true? Come on, Harry. We've been best mates for years. We know you, and we know when something's wrong."

"He's right," Hermione joined in. "I can tell by your face that something's upsetting you, Harry."

When Harry was silent, she added, "If you don't want to tell us, that's okay, but don't lie to us about it. We just want to help. We worry about you."

Harry sighed. "Look, it's just something crazy. I know it's crazy, but..."

"But it still upsets you," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah," Harry admitted. He was quiet for a moment, but Ron and Hermione remained silent, waiting for him, and he finally continued, telling them how he and Draco had talked, how Severus had come up and had comforted the other boy, how Harry couldn't help but worry that Draco could replace him in his father's affections.

When he finished, Ron and Hermione were watching him sympathetically, but they both spoke at once, emphatically.

"Harry, your father loves you more than anything," Hermione told him firmly.

Ron was more blunt. "Harry, that's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard! Are you mental?"

Harry had to laugh in spite of himself. "You always know how to cheer me up, Ron."

"Yes, he has a way with words, doesn't he?" Hermione agreed dryly. Then she turned serious again. "But Harry, he is right. Professor Snape loves you. Ron and I had a hard time believing it at first, but it's true. You can tell by the way he looks at you."

"Yeah, it's like his eyes get all soft," Ron remarked.

"And I think he would be upset to know that you've worried about this for even one moment." Hermione went on in an earnest voice. "Harry, please promise that you'll talk with him. Today. I know that he loves you. There is nothing for you to worry about, but I think you need to hear it from him more than us."

"Yeah, mate, talk with him. He's your dad. He'd want you to. I know my dad would," Ron said.

"Yeah, but your dad is...your dad. I mean, he's been your father all your life. You know he's never going to stop loving you because he's..." Harry's voice trailed off.

"My real dad?" Ron supplied. "But Snape is your real dad, too, Harry."

Harry bit his lip.

"Isn't he?" Ron asked after a moment of silence.

Harry didn't answer right away. The impact of Ron's words had hit him like a ton of bricks. Severus was his real father, wasn't he? He had told Harry so many times. He had even gone to the trouble to write lengthy adoption papers, knowing that they had no legal value...because he had known how much they would mean to Harry, that Harry needed to see their new relationship written in black and white. From that moment...from before that moment actually...he had always treated Harry as his son, loving him unconditionally, protecting him, comforting him, trying as hard as he could to make up for the past, trying to make Harry happy.

Harry looked back up at Ron and Hermione and slowly nodded. "Yes. He's my real dad."

"Then you need to talk with him," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "I will. I'll talk with him at dinner."