As expected, Remus received an owl from the Headmaster a few days after he'd terminated the link between them. The letter requested that he return post haste since the substitute Albus had hired had to leave suddenly and Remus had to resume his teaching duties as soon as possible. The werewolf had hoped to spend some of the holidays with Sev and Harry, but now that wasn't possible. Regretfully, he bid the Snapes goodbye and promised to keep in touch with letters, and Severus had brewed four months worth of Wolfsbane for his friend and told him to return when he ran out.

"Or any other time you need a break from those infuriating little brats," the former professor invited. "Once you've done teaching for the day, your time is your own, Lupin, and you're not answerable to the Headmaster for everything."

"Right, and thank you for the offer, Severus. I just may take you up on it someday, when I've gone round the bend from teaching consecutive Gryffindor Slytherin classes for weeks at a time."

"Merlin be with you, Moony. You're going to need it," laughed the Potions Master. Then he embraced his friend and bid him safe travel back home.

Harry too hugged his godfather, who had spoiled him outrageously during his stay, buying him little gifts and taking him to the movies with Neil and to a Quidditch game and out for lunch and ice cream until Severus complained that when Remus left he'd have to deal with a spoiled brat. "Hey, I've got eleven years of missed birthdays and such to make up, Sev," the lycanthrope pointed out slyly. "Besides, no son of yours will ever be anything but perfect, Snape."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Lupin," returned his friend. "But thank you anyhow. Lily always said any child of ours would be a masterpiece."

Severus found that when he was around Remus, it was easier for him to speak of his late wife, and the hole in his heart was not so pronounced, for Lupin shared many of his memories with his wife. He also had several photos of Lily with a younger Severus and more of her with Harry that he'd put away once she had died, and those he gave to his friend and his son. Remus was quite a talented photographer, and the pictures were beautiful, glimpses of a past that had been mostly sweetness and light, until the coming of Voldemort.

Severus had added the new photos to the photo album he was making, along with the others he and Remus had taken over the past few days. He planned on giving it to Harry as a Christmas present, to commemorate his new life as a Snape.

Thus, the two felt the absence of their werewolf friend keenly, but soon enough the Christmas holidays were upon them, and for the first time ever Harry experienced the holiday with a family who made him a part of their celebration, from beginning to end.

He helped Aurelia bake cookies and pies, along with his father, who was no slouch as a cook himself. He and Mia and Melody decorated Aurelia's house one day, putting up the tree and hanging wreaths and other knickknacks about. Then they planned their Christmas dinner and shopped for presents.

Harry received an allowance from his father for doing chores every week and he used this money to buy presents for his new family and friends. Remembering Mia's wish for a dog, he bought her a cuddly stuffed beagle that she could sleep with. For Aurelia, he bought the newest cookbook by a Muggle chef called Paula Deen. Melody received a gift card to a popular beauty spa called Milagro Day Spa. Neil got tickets to the latest Alphas match, to make up for Harry missing the other one. Hagrid he sent a picture of a very rare black unicorn, which was native only to the States. Ron he sent an official Alphas robe, so he could brag to his brothers about having the only one of its kind in Britain. Hermione got a book called Spells for the Sophisticated Witch and Remus a new briefcase with all kinds of secret compartments (his old one was very worn).

The gift for his father was one that stumped him for a long time, until he thought of the perfect gift. It took him two days to write it, in his best penmanship, and then he brought it to the scrivener and had it bound in a small leather portfolio. It was a piece entitled Why I'm Proud to Be Your Son and in it Harry had written all the things he wanted to tell his father but could never articulate. He also included a snapshot at the end of it that Remus had taken of him and his dad together in the backyard, playing with Rosie. He'd even bought a special chew toy for his beagle, one that would never fall victim to the dog's jaws, for it magically repaired itself after being chewed.

Since winter at the Jersey shore rarely included snow, Severus allowed the kids to persuade him to conjure a short spate of Highland weather, so they could have a snowball fight and build a snowman and make snow angels. Of course, the kids ended up dragging him into their silly games by hitting him in the head with a snowball, forcing him to retaliate with a Snape Special-three snowballs flung with deadly accuracy at the three troublemaking imps, knocking them on their backsides in the snow.

His son's astonished expression had been priceless and made him start laughing. "Did you really think I'd let you get away with such disrespectful behavior, Mr. Snape?"

Harry rose cautiously to his feet, brushing the snow off himself and answered, "I thought it was worth it, Dad. Who would ever have thought you knew how to throw a snowball?"

"Just goes to show you, your old man still has a few tricks up his sleeve," smirked Severus. Then he whipped a hand from behind his back and nailed Harry right in the face with a large mushy snowball.

"Ahhh! No fair, Dad!" sputtered the boy, brushing snow off his glasses, wincing as it trickled down his shirt inbetween his scarf and his neck. "Sneaky Slytherin trickster!"

"I do my humble best, brat!" chuckled the Head of Slytherin House wickedly, and he bowed to his son before quitting the field.

The snow only lasted the afternoon, for Severus refused to tamper with the weather for longer than that, and by the next afternoon the snow was a mere memory, but its appearance was talked about for weeks by the locals.

Christmas morning, Harry found many presents under the tree with his name on them. "Looks like you were good this year, young man," Aurelia smiled as she began handing the gifts out.

There were packages from Remus, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Mrs. Weasley as well as Aurelia, Mia, Melody, Neil, and Severus. Harry opened the presents from his Hogwarts pals first. Ron had sent him a large box of chocolate frogs and a bio of Viktor Krum, one of the leading Seekers as well as the youngest, on the Bulgarian team. From Hermione he received a book called Finding Your Inner Strength, a guide to self-empowerment. Mrs. Weasley sent her usual jumper embroidered with an HS knitted out of a soft green wool. Also included were a large mince pie and some firecrackers from Fred and George. Hagrid sent him his usual package of rock cakes, which even Rosie turned up her nose at. From Remus there was a new winter cloak done in deep emerald and golden trim with a deep pockets spell on it. The note from his godfather said the cloak's pockets were designed to hold almost anything, and would never grow full. It was an extremely cool and thoughtful gift and Harry was delighted with it.

From the Prince side of the family, Harry received a set of novels by C.S. Lewis called The Chronicles of Narnia. "Those were my favorite books as a girl, Harry," Aurelia told him. "I think you'll enjoy them as well." Melody bought him a new video game for his SuperNintendo and Mia gave him an entire season of That's My Beagle on VHS.

"Where on earth did she find that?" wondered Severus.

"You'd be surprised what my granddaughter finds when she goes looking for something. She's a born shopaholic."

But Severus gave him the best presents of all, the photo album, and a brand new professional Quidditch broom. "A Meteor 2001!" gasped Harry when he'd torn off the paper. "This is the latest model out on the public market. There's a waiting list for this of over a year, Dad! How'd you ever manage to get one?"

"A client of mine owed me a favor," answered the Potions Master. He had brewed a fertility potion for Andrew Ascot, Captain of the Alphas, who desperately wanted a child but didn't want the press to know that he was having difficulties getting his wife pregnant. He'd been willing to pay top Galleons for Severus to make the potion and said he'd owe him a favor for keeping his silence on the private matter.

"Wow! You're awesome, Dad!" Harry cried, examining the broom in delight. "Neil's gonna die when he finds out. And so will Ron. Thanks so much!" he rose to hug his father and hand him his own present. "Uh, this is from me. Hope you like it. Merry Christmas."

He watched anxiously as Severus carefully opened his gift, fighting hard to keep from biting his nails. Would his dad appreciate the gift? Or would he think it a stupid attempt to curry favor with him when Harry got into trouble next time? But no, his father was reading the essay, savoring each and every sentence, or so it seemed. Harry prayed he wasn't correcting mistakes as he read, the way he usually did.

At last Severus looked up from the portfolio, and his dark eyes glimmered with unshed tears. In a voice choked with emotion he said, "Harry, this was the best present I've ever received. Come here, son."

Harry walked over to the Potions Master and found himself caught up in a great big hug. "You know, I'm proud to be your father, Harry. I love you, son," whispered Severus, blinking furiously.

"Love you too, Dad," Harry managed once he could get his breath back. There were tears in his eyes too.

The sentimental moment might have degenerated further into a real tearjerker but for Rosie, who chose that moment to jump onto the pair, baying and licking their faces with her sticky tongue.

"Ugh! Beagle breath!" sputtered Severus. "Dog, you need help. Like a peppermint chew bone."

Rosie grinned and wagged her tail joyfully, content so long as her humans were happy.

"All right, that's enough of this sentimental nonsense," muttered Snape, releasing Harry. "Who wants pancakes for breakfast?"

One very hungry beagle and her teenage boy beat a hasty path to the kitchen, their stomachs growling loudly.

Later on they went over Melody's for Christmas Day dinner and Harry brought his new broom over to show Neil and Mia, though Severus made him promise not to fly it without activating the safety charms he'd put on it. "The last thing I want is to have to bring you or someone else to the hospital on Christmas Day, Harry, so do yourself a favor and follow my rules for once."

"Okay, Dad. No problem." Harry agreed, he couldn't refuse Severus anything after the man's unexpected generosity and display of love that morning. He knew if he got hurt Severus would never forgive himself, hence the charms.

Neil was speechless with envy for about two seconds, then he begged Harry to ride it. Harry allowed him to, but only after he'd flown first. The broom swooped and cornered like a dream and was wickedly fast, much faster than the Nimbus, and Harry was grateful for his father's caution for once, since a fall from this skyrocket would end with him splattered all over in Harry shaped pieces.

Still, it was an awesome piece of enchanted wood, and Harry treated it with the respect it deserved. Neil took a turn after and said it was the best thing ever invented and Harry was one lucky son of a gun. Harry offered to let Neil borrow his Nimbus, and the other boy agreed, since that broom was better than his current one. Harry would have given it to him, but he knew Neil's pride would never permit him to accept it, and so he resorted to letting Neil borrow it indefinitely.

As he got into bed that Christmas night, Harry reflected that this had been the best Christmas ever, even better than the one he'd had as a first year.

• * * * * * *

The second of January arrived and with it Harry's first day of normal Muggle school. Severus had agreed to extend Aurelia's home schooling through December, so Harry could start regular school fresh during a new term.

Harry was a bit nervous, but he would be going to school with Neil, so he was not concerned about making friends the way he would've been otherwise. In America, wizard as well as Muggle went to normal middle school, though the wizard students only had half days, the rest was spent with their private wizard masters, unknown to the principal of the middle school, who thought they attended vo-tech classes. Harry had the same schedule as Neil, even though he wasn't able to access his magic fully. Severus thought it best if Harry were treated like a wizard student from the beginning, that way there would be no awkward questions once Harry began to study magic for real once more.

That first week was a breeze, and Harry soon discovered his middle school teachers were nowhere as strict as his father or some other Hogwarts professors had been. He barely had any homework and he and Neil were in most of the same classes, so they could study together. Of course, there'd been the usual comments about the new kid, but Neil soon shut the more vocal of them up with his fists and the threat that if they started trouble with either him or Harry, Mike would come after them. Mike had a reputation as a tough scary delinquent since his stint in jail after the wild party, and none of the boys wanted to cross him.

Harry was just as glad, since the last thing he wanted was to get in trouble at school for fighting. Severus would blow a gasket for sure if that happened, so Harry reigned in his Snape temper and walked away.

A month passed and Harry was gradually accepted by his peers. But one Monday morning, Harry woke feeling terribly ill. Severus shook him awake at the usual time, 6:45 AM. The thirteen-year-old groaned and buried his head in his pillow. "Harry. Wake up. Time for school."

"Don' wanna go today," he whimpered, feeling oddly hot and his head was pounding like an anvil.

Severus assumed at first this was typical teenage reluctance and said sternly, "None of that, mister. You're getting up and going to school, I don't care how tired you are. I told you to go to bed early. Now get dressed. Don't make me come back in here."

Harry wanted to protest, but he felt totally drained of energy and simply nodded and when his father had left, flopped back on his bed and back into a fevered semi-sleep. His rest was plagued by nightmares of black robed figures in masks and purple coils.

He was jerked up out of the dreams by his father's hand, shaking him. "Harrison Remus Snape! Didn't I tell you to get dressed half-an-hour ago? And here I find you're still in bed. What part of get up don't you understand?"

Harry opened his eyes and moaned. "Dad . . .I really don't feel good."

Severus frowned, for this wasn't like Harry, to pretend illness. He expertly felt his son's forehead, and swore as he withdrew his hand. "You're burning up, son. I'll call the school and tell them you're sick, then I'm going to give you a fever reducer. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"My head. And all my muscles ache and so does my throat."

Severus drew his wand and ran a quick diagnostic. Harry had a 103 fever and flu like symptoms, as far as the spell could tell. He had his son open his mouth so he could examine Harry's tonsils and the back of his throat. He deftly felt beneath the boy's jaw, finding the glands there slightly swollen, but not as tender as they would've been if he had strep throat.

He departed the room and phoned the school, then went to his lab and brewed three potions, a fever reducer, a pain reliever, and a headache remedy. When he returned to Harry's room, he found the boy thrashing about, burning to the touch, and barely conscious.

Severus fought to keep calm, to maintain his legendary control. It had never been so hard. Never had he wanted to panic so badly, but he forced himself to remain cool and collected. Harry needed a Healer, not a hysterical parent.

He gently lifted the boy, giving him the fever reducer first, and then the other potions afterwards. Some of the hectic red flush faded from Harry's skin, but he still felt like a furnace to Severus's hands. He performed another diagnostic and saw to his dismay that Harry's fever had not dropped as rapidly as it should've. It was now 102.

The boy began to tremble violently and Severus began to wipe him down with a cool cloth, trying to bring down his fever and ease the chill with a warming spell.

Over the next two hours, Harry's fever soared up and down, regardless of how many potions Severus poured down his throat. He was alternately wracked with violent chills and cramps, and the pain relievers seemed to have little effect.

Severus racked his brain, trying to figure out what ailed the child. He knew his diseases, both magical and Muggle. But this one eluded him.

Harry was restless, crying out in his sleep, clearly dreaming of the Death Eaters from the little he spoke. Snape did his best to soothe him, stroking his sweat soaked hair and singing all the lullabies Lily used to sing to her son when he wouldn't go to sleep. Nothing worked. His son remained caught inbetween dreams and reality, a prisoner in his own mind.

Aurelia came in, bringing Severus water and tea and toast, making the agitated father eat before he made himself sick as well. "Severus, maybe you'd better bring him to the hospital. How high is his fever now?"

Severus checked Harry's temperature again and nearly fainted. "105! Bloody hell, Aunt Relia! I need to bring it down NOW!"

"Ice and a tub of cold water, Sev," Aurelia instructed. "And keep giving him that potion, it might have some effect."

She set about running a bath, and Severus re-administered the potion, knowing he was fast reaching the limit of how many times he could give Harry the draft without harming him.

He carried his son into the bathroom, where Aurelia had run a cool bath and conjured large amounts of ice cubes into the tub. Then he quickly stripped his son and lowered him into the freezing water.

Harry cried and tried to get away, pleading for them to stop hurting him, his voice hoarse and broken. "Please . . .I'm so hot . . .Please . . .don't hurt me . . ."

"Hush, son. Just relax. I'm here, you're safe. Harry, listen to me," Severus talked to him gently, reassuring him he was not alone.

Harry opened his eyes, his green orbs filled with fever and pain. "Where . . .oww . . .cold . . ."

"I know, child. But you've got a bad fever and the ice water will help. Lie still, Harry. Don't fight me." Severus held him firmly by the shoulders in the water, gritting his teeth as the teenager splashed and whimpered.

"Dad?"

"I'm right here, Harry. I've got you. Just relax and let the water take away your fever, all right?"

Harry nodded before lapsing back into that twilight world once more.

Severus kept him in the water for over twenty minutes, until he began to shiver and his skin took on a slight blue tinge. Then he removed the delirious boy and dried him off with a flick of his wand. He replaced Harry's pajamas and underwear and carried him back to bed. His temperature was now 101.

Still feverish, he scowled, but not as bad as before. Damn it all, why can't I make this bloody fever break? What's causing this?

The symptoms were nothing he'd ever been trained to diagnose, and in desperation, he firecalled the Hogwarts Infirmary and spoke to Poppy, breaking his own rule of secrecy.

But the medi-witch was at a loss as to what Harry had, and she could only tell him to do what he'd already been doing, since the virus or whatever it was would not respond to standard disease curing spells.

Hours passed and still Harry grew no better. His body sweated and burned, his temperature fluctuating so violently Severus feared for his life. Twice more he put Harry back into the ice water bath, for he couldn't give him any more potions to reduce fevers. He poured cool water down the teen's throat with a straw, massaging the boy's throat till he swallowed, so he wouldn't get dehydrated.

The fever raged and Harry remained comatose.

Terrified, Severus held the child close and prayed for God to make his only son well, tears falling on the child's feverish face. Please, please don't take my son from me. I need him, he's all I've got. Harry, don't leave me.

He spoke those words aloud, not even realizing he'd done so. He was exhausted from fighting this bloody virus that sought to take his child, but he could not rest. Not until Harry was out of danger. Only then would he close his eyes.

Around midnight, Harry suffered the worst attack yet, his fever soaring to a new deadly high and he began convulsing and turning blue because the spasms were cutting off his airway. Frantic now, Severus fought to keep Harry's airway open, using a tongue depressor and a spell invented to ease asthmatic patients. The child bucked and thrashed in his arms like a possessed thing, all his muscles rigid and locked.

Severus practically threw himself on top of his child, pinning him to the bed with sheer brute force, praying desperately, Lord, please hear me! Don't take my boy from me, please, I beg of You. I never beg, but this time I will, for I will do anything, humble myself however I need to, in order to save my child.

Tears dampened his cheeks as he pressed down on Harry's shoulders, trying to immobilize the boy as much as possible, so he didn't injure himself while he convulsed. He could have cast a Body Bind, but he didn't want to use magic just yet, not when he could be touching the child who meant everything in the world to him. His precious baby boy, whom he had loved since the first moment he'd seen him in the hospital, all red-faced and bawling with the shock and indignity of being born. The miracle created by him and Lily, the very best thing ever.

"Breathe, Harry! You can do it. That's it, child." Severus encouraged, his voice breaking as he saw how hard his son struggled for air. "Good job. In and out! Please, Harry! Keep breathing, damn you! Where's that bloody Snape stubbornness, where's the Gryffindor eleventh-hour courage?"

The child's skin was like a furnace, and he trembled violently, freezing and burning alternately.

Severus wiped him down with a cool cloth, Harry at last managed to pull in some air and coughed and threw up. But Severus knew that was coming, and Scourgified the mess afterwards. During the convulsion, the boy had also lost control over other bodily functions and Severus carefully cleaned him up, thanking Merlin Harry was not conscious, he would have been mortified to death.

Severus wasn't bothered, his training as a Healer enabled him to deal with such things and after he'd massaged his son's cramping muscles and spelled fresh clothing on him, he tried once more to bring down the blasted fever with potions.

They barely had an effect, except to make Harry stop convulsing somewhat. But that was all. Severus wanted to scream, tear his hair out, and cry, he was so bloody frustrated and frightened. "Please, Harry, please . . ." he murmured over and over, rocking his son back and forth. "Come back to me . . .don't go . . .not yet . . ." Tears spilled from his eyes to fall on his son's burning hot cheek, where they evaporated. More soon took their place. Severus didn't even realize he was crying, he was too caught up in his emotional whirlpool of hope, despair, and fear, along with love.

Severus remained awake for over twenty-four hours, fighting the strange disease, until his body couldn't take the strain any longer and he fell asleep still holding Harry in his arms.

Harry's fever soared back up into the 104 register, and all at once he began to shake, every muscle in his body spasming. Then all at once he was still, sagging back into his father's arms like a ragdoll. The mysterious fever had finally broken.

And the Boy Who Lived breathed still.

• * * * * * *

Severus woke to find Harry cool and sweaty in his arms. "Oh thank you, God!" he wept. "The fever's broken!"

He quickly wiped his son down with warm water, put new pajamas on him and changed the sheets on the bed before tucking the sleeping child in it. Harry never woke, but Snape was not worried. This was a normal sleep, a healing sleep, just what Harry needed.

He ran another diagnostic and discovered that Harry was perfectly fine save for general exhaustion. It made no sense. Severus wanted to rip out his hair. As an afterthought he checked on the state of Harry's magic, expecting to find the usual low level traces.

Instead he found Harry's magical core totally restored.

Severus nearly collapsed from shock.

"Bloody damn hell!" he recast the spell.

The result was the same.

Harry's magic had returned, who knew how or why, and he was once more a true wizard.