Draco was standing a few feet from the door to the office, trying to listen to what was being discussed without seeming to eavesdrop, but it was hopeless. His godfather must have placed some kind of silencing charm upon the door, because Draco couldn't hear anything, and even his Sharp Ears spell had no effect.

He bit back a sigh and hoped that Severus would explain things to him once he was done speaking with the Headmaster. He knew the Potions Master was a man of many secrets, but this! How could he have kept that secret for so long? It boggled the young Slytherin's mind.

Just then the door opened and his godfather emerged. "Draco, eavesdropping does not become you," he reprimanded.

Draco did his best to look innocent, though he sensed that Severus was not fooled. It was very rare that he could pull the wool over his godfather's eyes, Severus noticed everything, and sometimes it seemed as if he could almost read minds. "Uncle Sev, I wasn't . . ." he began.

"Don't lie to me, young man!" snapped his guardian. "I will tolerate much from you, but never that. I trust you remember what lying got you last time you tried it with me?"

"I remember," Draco blushed. Last time he'd lied to this man he had been seven, and had been caught playing with Severus's private potions ingredients, and he'd invented a story that he had hoped would get him out of hot water. Instead, he had succeeded in getting double the punishment Severus would've normally given him, which included being grounded and made to do extra chores about Spinner's End, plus a session with a bar of soap and three sharp swats.

"Good. Take heed of it then. Walk with me, please, we have a few things to discuss before I bring you home." Severus ordered, taking his godson by the arm and leading him away from the office. He then Apparated to the lonely deserted moor, where there dwelled only mist and a few stunted trees.

"Where?" Draco glanced about him uneasily.

"Where is not important. This is a crossroads, not our destination. I brought you here so we could discuss privately my rules regarding you and Harry. I have had this same discussion with him, and now I will have it with you. First and foremost, you are to behave with dignity and restraint, Draco, as befits your heritage and proper manners. That means no quarreling or sniping at my son and definitely no fighting or dueling with him. I will not have my home turned into a boxing arena, so bury this feud you have with Harry as of today, or else! Your room will be next to his, and you will also have a list of chores as well. I play no favorites, Draco. You are, for better or worse, my adopted son and I want both my children to tolerate each other, at least."

He continued to lecture his godson much as he had done Harry, until he was satisfied Draco understood the rules of the manor and would not start a major fight as soon as he walked in the door. He hated discord among family members, he'd lived through way too much of it during his childhood to ever foster anything like it now that he was grown and master of his own house.

"You will find that this manor contains many secrets and I will ask you once not to pry. It protects itself, and right now it is predisposed to accepting you as a guest."

"You're speaking of it as though it were alive."

"In a way, it is. It has its own magic, fae magic, and it chooses the next Heir Apparent, which must be a descendent of the Prince bloodline." Severus then went on to explain about the Amulet of Inheritance and the fae connection.

Draco listened avidly, his nose twitching like a ferret's sensing a hidden mouse. Secrets within secrets. He enjoyed finding things, and perhaps he would even become the next Heir Apparent. Meantime, however, he would promise to get along with Potter-no it was Harry now, and he was a Snape . . .Merlin, but that was so weird!

"Have I answered all of your questions, Draco?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well then. Let us depart."

Then he repeated the sweeping gesture Harry had seen him perform, and parted the Evermist so he and Draco could enter the manor.

* * * * * *

Harry had been flying when he spotted the figures of his father and Draco crossing the lawn to the front entrance of the mansion. He drew in a deep breath and reminded himself sternly of his promise to behave before landing and walking inside the manor through the back entrance. He carefully stowed his broom upon the rack on the wall, next to Severus's, before ascending the short flight of stone stairs up to the main floor.

Severus and Draco found him sitting casually in the den, sipping at a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry eyed his rival warily, then said, inclining his head a bit, as one would to a servant, "Malfoy. Welcome to Prince Manor."

Draco stiffened slightly, recognizing the condescension. "Potter. Fancy meeting you here."

"I live here," Harry retorted. "And the name is Snape now, in case you've forgotten."

"Congratulations. Must be nice, to finally have a decent name and all," Draco drawled.

"Same goes for you too, Malfoy. Must be nice to finally have a decent guardian, instead of Death Eater scum," Harry shot back.

"Boys! That's enough!" Severus snapped. "What did you promise me?"

"That we would get along, sir," answered Harry, subdued.

"Or try to, Uncle Sev," grumbled Draco, hanging his head.

"This is not trying, it's sniping. Now, shake hands and remember, from this moment on you are relatives, which means you shall use each other's first names and quit bickering like two-year-olds. Or else you will both be scrubbing the kitchen floor and shoveling the ashes out of the fireplace for a week. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Uncle Severus."

"Harry, show Draco to his room. Then come back here and help me with supper. Draco, you may have the afternoon to unpack and then you clear and wash the dishes after dinner." Severus instructed. "I will make a chart up each week with your names on it and a list of chores for each of you. The list will rotate each week, and I expect you to perform these chores well. Otherwise you will do them over and have privileges, such as flying, taken away from you. If you do all of your assigned chores, you will get a small allowance from me, which I may reduce or increase depending upon your behavior and attitude."

"What about my potions lessons?" Harry asked. "Will M-I mean Draco, be attending them as well?"

"Having problems again, Po-Harry?" sneered his cousin.

"The only problem I have, Draco, is you," Harry began, his temper sparking at the other's tone.

"Harry! That remark was uncalled for. Apologize." Severus ordered.

"But he . . .I want him to apologize first!"

"He will, but because you were more offensive, you shall go first." Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, Mr. Snape? I'm waiting."

Harry moistened his lips, blushing crimson. This bloody sucked! The last person on earth he wanted to apologize to was Malfoy. Then he looked up and met his father's disapproving glower and winced. "I apologize, Draco." He held out a hand.

Draco took it for the briefest of instants, dropping Harry's hand as soon as possible, as if afraid he might catch something. "Apology accepted. And I'm sorry as well."

"Good, now I want the both of you to come here and stand back to back. You will remain like that for five minutes. Perhaps then you will remember to restrain your mouths."

Both boys remained with their mouths open.

Until Severus, reaching the end of his patience, grabbed each one firmly by the ear and marched them to the center of the room, placing them back to back, facing opposite corners. "Five minutes, gentlemen. No talking, no fidgeting. Or else I add time." He pointed his wand and an hourglass appeared in the air with a pop. "You may go when the sand runs out."

Then he turned and strode down the right wing to the kitchen, his robes rustling angrily about his ankles.

Harry stood rigidly, cursing Malfoy under his breath. It figured, not even five minutes in the other's company and already Draco had managed to get him in trouble. Harry wondered how he was going to endure Malfoy living under the same roof as he was without punching the other boy out. Count to ten, Harry. Count to ten and then start again. Oh God, I'm freaking rhyming now . . .thanks to bloody Draco now I'm becoming a poet! He could feel Draco's back just touching his and he wanted to flinch away, but he forced himself to remain still. No way would he be the one to earn them an extra five minutes by moving. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, falling back on an old meditation tactic, thinking of water flowing over rocks and following it on its way.

Next to him, Draco too seethed and sulked. His pride smarted at being treated like a five-year-old, especially since Harry had started it. It wasn't fair! A part of him whined. Then he snorted, because he knew better than to say that aloud. His godfather hated whiny children, and had done his best to break Draco of the habit when he was younger. For the most part, Severus had succeeded, Draco complained far less now than he used to. The blond fixed his eyes on a point in the ceiling, determined to endure the punishment stoically.

The five minutes seemed endless, but at last the sand had run out of the top of the hourglass, freeing them.

Harry stepped away from Draco as soon as the last grain had fallen. The blond stretched, gave Harry an irritated glare, then said, "Which room is mine, Snape?"

"This way." Harry led him down the wing where the bedrooms were located. The room Severus had chosen for Draco was a blue one, representing the Element of Water.

"You know, you look different . . .Harry," Draco observed. "You look. . . more dignified, not like a hayseed farmer, like you used to."

Harry stiffened. "The way I looked before was a Glamour Charm. This is my true appearance." He wasn't sure whether or not to take offense at Draco's comments, since he had to agree that his true features were more aesthetically pleasing to him, as was his hair.

They had reached the room Draco would be using, and Harry gestured and opened the door. "Home sweet home, Mr. Malfoy. Sorry it doesn't come with a personal servant. You'll notice, we've no house elves here like you're used to."

Draco walked in and looked around. He levitated his trunk into the room and chanted a spell that had the contents unpack themselves. "Not bad. Of course, it's smaller than my room at home, but it's still adequate."

"Glad it meets with your approval, my lord," Harry mocked softly.

"Pardon me if I'm used to better than you, who probably lived in a room the size of a closet, like your friend Weasel."

Since that comment was a little too close to home, Harry scowled and said, "Sod off, Draco. Leave Ron out of this. You know, you're not so high and mighty anymore, considering your parents are jailbait now and if it weren't for my father, you'd be living in a foster home."

Draco spun on him, his gray eyes simmering with temper. "Yeah, throw that in my face, why don't you? Like you would ever know what it meant to live in the same house with somebody who's only use for you was to make you into his shadow. Bet you don't even appreciate what it means for you to live here, with Severus, since you've been a celebrity with the whole wizarding community kissing your arse all bloody day!"

"I never asked to be a bloody celebrity, damn you! It wasn't my fault old Snake-Head offed himself while trying to kill me with his own spell. I hate the way people stare at me and think I'm some kind of hero. I never asked to have my name in the paper every time I turn around. And if you think I was treated like a celebrity when I lived with the Dursleys, think again! I was the damn house elf. So I appreciate Severus more than you ever will, Draco. He's my father, not yours!"

"Well, he's my godfather, and I've known him longer than you have," declared Draco.

"Big flying hairy deal, Malfoy! Blood's thicker than water," Harry growled, his temper boiling over at Draco's insinuation that Severus might be partial to him because they shared more of a past together.

"For your information, Snape, I am your blood. We're related through the Prince ancestry," Draco said loftily.

"Maybe so, but you're still the poor relation," Harry shot back. It was a low blow, but he couldn't help it, Malfoy always managed to bring out the worst in him.

Draco's wand was in his hand in an instant. "Say that again, Potter, and I'll hex your tongue out!"

Harry's wand was drawn too. "You can try, if you think you're able to, slither worm."

The two faced off, tempers sizzling, waiting for the other to make the first move, when they heard Severus's voice calling them. "Harry! Come and set the table. Draco, finish unpacking and then come down for dinner."

Both boys jerked guiltily and glanced around before lowering their wands. They knew there would have been holy hell to pay if Snape had caught them like that.

Harry quickly came to his senses, his temper flickering and dying. Harry tucked his wand up his sleeve and said, "Listen, Malfoy. I don't like you staying here any more than you like me here, but we can't change it so we might as well accept it. What do you say to agreeing to avoid each other unless it's absolutely necessary?"

Draco considered. "Fine by me. Not seeing your face will make my day so much brighter. Better get going, Snape. Don't want daddy to come in here and drag you out by your ear, now do we?"

Harry turned to go, muttering over his shoulder, "At least I never ended up over his knee like you." Then he was gone before Malfoy could respond.

Draco stood in the middle of his new room, fuming and wishing he could turn Harry into a newt or a bug and step on him. How had he known about that punishment? the other boy wondered, feeling the tips of his ears go bright red. It had been years ago, and it had been the only time he'd ever made Severus angry enough to spank him, yet Draco recalled it vividly precisely because of that reason. The spanking itself hadn't been terrible, it had been more humiliating than painful, though Draco recalled crying over it just the same as when Lucius caned him, but his tears had been from remorse and shame rather than pain and fear.

The other thing he recalled about that day had been how Severus had held and comforted him afterwards, a rarity in the Malfoy household, for Lucius insisted too many hugs and such made a boy weak and a whimpering milksop. His mother too, had never been one to hold her son too much, perhaps she was afraid of ruining her expensive clothing, Draco thought viciously. Only Severus had ever held him, reassuring him that he was forgiven and loved.

Draco had always boasted to his peers of his wealth and status, because it was the only thing he had that he could boast about, the rest of his life had been a sham, and the only real thing in it had been Severus Snape, who had loved him in spite of all his spoiled ways.

He stood his broom in the corner of the room and thought, Do you even realize how lucky you are, Harry? You have it all, fame, wealth, and the father I always wanted. Typical. Even though Uncle Sev's my guardian, I still bear the Malfoy name, and everything else that goes with it.

But he supposed he could live with that, so long as Severus stood behind him and supported him. Without that support, Draco knew he would be horribly vulnerable, and he was heartily grateful to his godfather for coming to get him and making him his legal ward. Everything would have been perfect if only Harry was not there, he thought resentfully.

In the kitchen, Harry set the table and tried not slam the plates down as he did so. Having Draco around the manor was almost as bad as living with Dudley, save for the fact that Severus had promised not to favor the Slytherin over his son. He truly hoped Severus would keep that promise, though he hadn't yet ever known the man not to keep his word.

He glanced over at his father, who was taking something that looked like grilled chicken over rice from the oven. "Uh, do you need help with anything else, sir?" he asked, though inwardly he cursed himself for not being able to address the older man as his father. It was just a word, and yet, for some reason, it still stuck in his throat. He recalled pointing out rather forcefully that Snape was his father, not Draco's, so why couldn't he bring himself to just call Severus "Dad"?

"No, thank you, Harry. I'm almost done here, unless you would like to get drinks?"

"Sure." He summoned several bottles of butterbeer from the fridge and floated them to the table.

Severus had lifted the ban on underage wizardry so long as Harry was at the manor, and had encouraged him to practice those spells he knew in order to improve his casting speed and accuracy. "Someday you may need to be able to cast at a moment's notice, without thinking, and this is what I want you to practice."

"Sev, will Malfoy-I mean Draco-will he be joining us in our potions lessons and the Defense class?"

"Yes, if he wishes to. It wouldn't be fair to exclude him, now would it?"

"No, sir. I guess not." Harry said glumly.

"What is it, Harry? Have the two of you been wrangling again?"

Harry bit his lip, then slowly shook his head. "Yes. . .I can't seem to help it. He just . . .irritates the hell out of me."

He waited for Severus's frown and the inevitable lecture, but this time the Potions Master surprised him and looked . . .thoughtful. "Hmmm. . .I recall James Potter and I reacting the exact same way with each other. We were like oil and water. My mother offered me some good advice, however. It was not easy to follow, but it worked when I managed to control myself."

"What was it?"

"Count to twenty and then walk away." Severus answered. "Easy to say, hard to do, but it saved me on a number of occasions from getting in trouble I couldn't get out of."

"You, get into trouble? You mean you weren't the perfect student like Percy Weasley or Hermione?"

"Academically, I was at the top of my class. Socially . . .I have never made friends easily, Lily was one of the few that I had. Potter and his friends didn't make it any easier. My mother's advice saved my hide several times. Might I suggest you try it?"

"Okay. I'll give it a go. Thanks."

"You're welcome, son. One other thing. I know at times Draco may seem like an arrogant whelp, but remember, we all wear masks. Some are easier to penetrate than others, however."

Harry just nodded. If anyone knew about masks, it was the Potions Master. Still, he couldn't help feeling a tad resentful that now he had to share his father with Draco. If it were anyone else . . .Something of his feelings must have been showing on his face, for Severus approached him and put an arm about his shoulders for a moment.

The gesture caught Harry off-guard for a single moment, and he allowed himself to be held, leaning against the other's shoulder. It felt right, this was how it should be, Harry thought and for an instant all his anxiety vanished.

That was how Draco found them upon finally locating the kitchen. The young Slytherin's mouth dropped open and for a single moment he longed to rush up and rip Harry away from Severus and scream, "No! That's MY Severus, not yours! I had him first!" Just like he was a brat of a three-year-old again. Resentment welled up in his throat, hot and heavy, as he watched Severus-his Severus-hug Harry, the way he used to hug Draco.

The young wizard turned away, before he disgraced himself by stamping his foot and crying. When Severus had said Harry was his son, Draco had been thinking perhaps he meant it in name only, but seeing the two of them together that way meant that Harry was much more than Severus's biological child.

And if that were so, then where did that leave Draco?

A moment later, Severus and Harry separated and Draco entered the kitchen, still bubbling with resentment and hurt pride. But he schooled his face into a calm expression before saying, "So, what's for dinner, Uncle Sev?"

"Sit down, Draco, and you'll see," Snape invited, indicating Draco was to sit on his left, and Harry to his right.

Draco obeyed, discovering tonight's dinner was chicken over wild rice pilaf with a white wine sauce, biscuits, and green beans with almonds.

The three ate hungrily, without much extraneous conversation, except for requests to pass a dish or the salt and once Severus eyed Harry's plate and ordered him to take a second helping of vegetables. "You need the vitamins, Harry. Otherwise I'll need to brew another cauldronful of Nutrient Potion."

Harry immediately filled half the plate with the green beans. He'd rather eat them than drink Severus's disgusting Nutrient concoction.

Draco eyed his cousin thoughtfully. He knew from potions lessons with Severus that one only needed to consume a Nutrient Potion on a regular basis if one had been deprived of basic vitamins and minerals for a long period of time. Could that be the reason Harry always looked slight and stunted for his age? Draco was the same age and was already a half a head taller and outweighed him too. The image of a starving Harry didn't sit too well with his other perception of the Boy Who Lived, however, until he recalled Harry's recent comment about him being a house elf when he lived with those Muggles. Could they have starved their own relative? Even Lucius, bad as he had been, had never done that. 

Harry looked up from his plate to find Draco studying him with an odd expression on his face. He wondered what the other boy was plotting. His sort were always up to something, and given Malfoy's history, it was probably no good.

Once all of them had eaten, Severus rose and said, "Tonight it is your turn to wash and clear, Draco. When you're finished, you may meet us in the den."

"Me? Wash dishes?" Draco protested lightly, as he always did. A part of him would never get over feeling that such menial labor was beneath him, no matter how many times Severus had made him scrub things.

"Yes, you, Mr. Malfoy. The rules here are the same as they were at Spinner's End. Dishes, Draco." Severus pointed implacably to the sink.

"Am I allowed to use magic?" countered the teenager.

"No. Getting your hands dirty won't kill you, boy. Now enough dawdling. I'll be back in thirty minutes to check on you and if you aren't done by then, I'll have you scrub a few of my cauldrons too."

Draco heaved a sigh but picked up the plates and walked over to the sink. Merlin, but why was it that Snape never had a house elf?

Harry and Severus left Draco to his task, retiring to the den where Severus began to read a magazine and Harry picked up Sev Half-Blood's journal and returned to where he'd left off in it, the part where his ancestor had been surrounded by night fae wanting to use him for a sacrifice.

Draco padded into the den some fifteen minutes later. "I've finished, Uncle Sev. What now?"

"Now is a quiet period, Draco, where we can all relax before going to bed," answered his godfather. "I usually use this time to catch up on my reading or write articles for potions journals and so forth. Have you completed all of your summer assignments?"

Harry cocked an ear, hoping that he hadn't, but Draco replied smoothly, "Yes, ages ago, Uncle Sev. Care to look them over?"

"If you would like."

Draco summoned them with a quick charm and Severus began skimming them as the blond sat down and began to read a rather large volume on the history of the manor, written by yet another Prince ancestor. With Malfoy Manor entailed by the Ministry, Draco hoped to become the next heir to Prince Manor, and so he figured he'd better know as much about the place as he could.

The three read companionably for two and a half hours before Severus glanced up at the clock on the mantle and said, "Twenty-five more minutes, boys."

Draco, who'd been immersed in his history, lifted his head and said, "Huh? Twenty-five more minutes till what?"

"Bedtime."

"Bed? But it's only nine thirty-five! I never go to bed this early. I'm not ten anymore, Uncle Sev."

"I know how old you are, Draco. Fourteen-year-olds need a decent amount of sleep too. Young wizards especially. Ten o'clock, Draco. Argue and I'll change it . . .to nine." Severus added with a wicked smirk.

Draco shut his mouth, very annoyed, but knowing better than to protest and end up with a bedtime for eight-year-olds. No way was he going to have an earlier bedtime than Harry. He returned to his history, his feathers ruffled a bit.

Behind Sev Half-Blood's journal, Harry hid a grin. Good for you, sir! Tell him like it is, the spoiled brat.

At ten o'clock, both boys bid Severus goodnight and went to their rooms. Draco fell asleep instantly, despite thinking he was going to be up all night due to the earlier bedtime. Harry, on the other hand, tossed and turned for thirty minutes before finally falling asleep, and then the soul-chilling dream of the dementors chasing him returned in full force.

"I'm not Harry Potter!" he woke yelling, sweat dripping from his forehead. "I'm Harry Albus Snape."

He started to shiver, trembling from head to foot so violently he feared he would fall to pieces. This was the first dream in which the dementor had actually spoken to him, and had not just come and started to lower its hood. The memory of that awful chilling voice echoed in his head, making his throat seize up and his breath come in harsh gasps.

Colored spots danced before his eyes and he fought to get a decent breath. It felt like the skeletal hand was slowly squeezing his chest in two, pressing down upon his heart and lungs in a vise-like grip. Can't breathe . . . need air . . .Ah, Merlin! I need . . .Severus . . .help me, Dad! Help me . . .it's squeezing my heart out . . .!

He fought to get air into his lungs, wheezing and choking like an asthmatic, his face ghost pale, his emerald eyes glassy. By some incredible act of will, he managed to drag himself upright, shove his glasses on his face and stagger out the door and down the hallway.

His head was throbbing and he still couldn't breathe right, he was nauseated and sweating, yet somehow he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, leaning against the wall, as he made his way to Severus's bedroom. Breathe, Harry. . .It was just a dream . . .just a stupid dream! He told himself over and over, but the panic refused to abate, it had him in a chokehold and would not let go.

He slumped against the door of the master bedroom, then groped for the knob and opened it. Then he staggered into the bedroom and collapsed, his heart fluttering madly like a terrified bird's, panic smothering him in its icy folds.

Severus had just emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in a soft pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a black tank top when Harry thudded to the ground practically in front of him.

"Harry! Bloody hell!" He immediately knelt and took the child in his arms. Harry was pale and his skin had a slight blue tinge. Afraid he was choking, Severus checked his mouth and tilted his head back to see if anything was obstructing his son's airway.

Finding nothing, he cautiously sat the boy up, noting that he was shivering and sweating and his heart was racing. Clearly, the boy was suffering from an anxiety attack. "Another nightmare, was it?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and even. "All right, Harry. I want you to focus on my voice. Are you listening to me, son? Look at me, Harry."

He gently lifted his son's chin so he was staring directly into Severus's eyes, and slowly the glassy look faded. "That's right. Look at me and take a nice deep breath. Come on, breathe for me, Harry. . .In . . .and out. It's not hard . . .Relax and just breathe . . ." Severus coaxed, rubbing the boy's back. Harry drew in a breath . . .then another . . . "Good job. Again. In and out. There now, son. I'm here, you're safe. Nothing can harm you."

Gradually, Harry's breathing evened out and the invisible tremors that shook him began to subside. "I . . .I . . .it was a nightmare . . .dementors . . ." He managed, sucking in another mouthful of air. Suddenly he began to cough and then his nauseated stomach rebelled. Too late he tried to clamp a hand over his mouth.

Next thing he knew, he'd vomited all over the carpet and his father. Utterly mortified, he cried, "Sorry . . .I didn't mean it . . .sorry, sir!" God, oh God, I wish I was dead. He's going to kill me . . .oh Merlin, please . . .He groaned as he felt his stomach cramp and heave yet again.

"Hush . . .it's all right, you're sick . . ." Severus managed to say calmly, grimacing slightly, though most of the mess had ended up on the floor. He swiftly conjured a basin, then Scourgified the carpet and himself before noticing the boy fighting back another bout of nausea. He deftly held his son's head as Harry vomited once more. "Easy, don't fight it . . ." Tears of embarrassment were trickling down his son's cheeks, Severus quickly conjured a wet cloth and blotted them, then placed it on the back of Harry's neck.

Five minutes later, the nausea had passed and Severus vanished the basin and helped Harry to his feet. The mortified child refused to look at him, so Severus gently steered him to the bed and lifted him onto it. "I'm going to give you a few potions, one will settle your stomach, the other is a Calming Draft, and the last is a Dreamless Sleep Potion."

He waved his wand and the three potions popped into view on his nightstand. One was a deep pink and frothy, the other was clear with a tinge of blue, and the last was a fizzy silver color.

"First drink the Anti-Nausea Draft." Severus instructed, unstoppering the fizzy pink potion and pouring a dose into a small cup.

Harry took it and drank it slowly, it tasted faintly of mint but was otherwise not bad. It went to work immediately, and he felt blessed relief as his stomach settled.

"Better now?"

"Yes." Harry felt himself go bright crimson.

"Now drink this." Severus handed him the entire vial of the Calming Draught.

Harry downed it in two swallows, it tasted like oranges and mangos.

That too worked almost instantly, and he felt the last of the awful fear and shame drift away from him. He lifted his eyes from their contemplation of the carpet and met his father's gaze. "I'm sorry . . I just . . . I was so scared . . .I couldn't breathe and then . . .I'm sorry . . .Dad," he found himself babbling, not even realizing what he was saying.

Severus froze upon hearing his son at last acknowledge him as his father, but he quickly erased the surprise from his features and sat next to his son, holding the vial of Dreamless Sleep. "Don't apologize, Harry. You had an anxiety attack, it would seem those nightmares are much worse than you told me, if this is the kind of reaction they produce. You did right in coming to me, son. How are you feeling now?"

"I . . .feel kind of happy . . .well sort of . . .like I'm somewhere pleasant. . ."

"Not nervous or upset?"

"No."

"Good. Would you like to tell me about your nightmare? Sometimes it helps if you talk about it."

Harry hesitated. He felt like such a baby, reacting so hysterically over a mere dream, but he'd already embarrassed himself tonight, so might as well go the whole nine yards. "I was surrounded by dementors. It was down by the Black Lake, and I was frozen, I couldn't move . . ." He related as best he could the way the dementors had come for him and the chilling voice that had spoken to him just before it started to remove its hood. " . . .then I woke up yelling I'm not Harry Potter, and then I just . . .fell apart, Dad." Somehow, the appellation just slipped out, and it was a minute before Harry realized what he'd said. I finally said it. I called him Dad. He shot a look at Severus from under his eyelashes and saw that the man actually looked pleased, at least his mouth was quirked in a faint half-smile.

"That's true. You aren't Harry Potter. It would seem that your subconscious was trying to tell you something, wouldn't you say? As for the dementors, I can understand why you dream of them, for they are truly terrifying creatures. And you faced down a whole pack of them. You should be proud of yourself, son. Few grown wizards could do what you did."

"Then why am I so scared of them now?"

"Perhaps because you nearly died before defeating them? Sometimes the fear of failure can cause you to panic, plus you've been under a great deal of stress lately. Stress and fear go together, usually. That's one reason why I wanted you to stay here with me, so you could have a safe place to unwind, and someone to care for you properly. You have had too much responsibility placed upon you for a fourteen year old, Harry. It's bound to wear on you." Here Severus paused, cleared his throat, then said, "If it will help alleviate some of the stress you've been experiencing, I will tell you that I have spoken with Professor Dumbledore again and forbidden him to put you in harm's way anymore with regards to Voldemort and his allies. You do not have to be a hero, son. This war, if there is one, should be fought by adults, not teenagers. I will protect you to the best of my ability, against anyone who threatens your wellbeing, up to and including Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore would never harm me!" Harry protested weakly.

"No? Maybe not intentionally, but he has harmed you plenty by allowing you to take risks with your safety that no child should. That debacle with Quirrel and the Sorcerers Stone could have been avoided, the duel with the basilisk nearly finished you, if not for Fawkes, we'd have been mourners at a funeral. And the whole escapade with Black and the dementors should never have occurred, you should never have been out of bed wandering the school grounds in the middle of the night with a suspected murderer on the loose. Had I known then what I do now, young man . . .I would have made certain you remained safely in the school, even if I had to lock you in your room and glue you to your bed with a Sticking Charm."

"You wouldn't really do that!"

"Wouldn't I?" Severus challenged. "I would do . . . almost anything to ensure your safety, Harry Snape. Never doubt that. Your life, child, is a precious gift and should not be wasted or thrown away, even in the name of a crusade for good. Dumbledore means well, but he uses people for his own ends, without counting the cost until later, when it's too late. He may weep over your grave afterwards, but he would still send you out to face Voldemort or Grindelwald or whatever dark wizard is currently threatening the peace and stability of this realm. I refuse to let him use you like that, Harry. Right now your primary concern should be graduating Hogwarts with honors, not facing a megalomaniac and his followers. I wish, above all, to have you live a normal life, like most of your peers. And I am trying, as much as I can, to make that happen here."

Harry was quiet for a long time, absorbing what his father had said. It was a tremendous weight off his soul, to know that he had an adult to care for him, to protect him, which was not something he had ever had before. For the first time in his life he was not responsible for himself alone, now that Severus was there, he could at last be a normal teenager. He felt a wave of relief wash over him so great that tears prickled his eyes.

"I . . .thank you, Dad. It doesn't . . .I mean I can't even tell you how much . . ." he floundered, unable to articulate how profoundly grateful he was, and feeling like a tongue-tied fool.

Severus put a finger to his lips and said gently, "No words are necessary, Harry. I understand." Then he reached out and hugged his son, reassuring him without words that he would always be there, whenever Harry needed him.

Harry froze, the gesture was at once both welcome and surprising, and he didn't know quite how to react. Then he relaxed against the older man and allowed himself to be held and comforted, finding the solace he had always craved but had never known he needed, until now.

They remained that way for a long time, until Harry felt himself starting to drift off, and jerked awake. The emotional rollercoaster he'd been on tonight had worn him out, both physically and mentally. Yet he was afraid to sleep, for fear of the nightmares returning.

"Tired, son?"

"Mmm-hmm," Harry mumbled, unable to articulate better than that.

"Are you sure you want to sleep in your room, or would you like to sleep here tonight?"

For an instant, Harry almost agreed, he was very tired and Severus's presence was so very comforting, and his bed was warm and inviting. But then he recalled that Draco was in the room down the hall, and if he ever learned that Harry had spent the night with Severus, like a baby afraid of the dark . . .he would never live it down. So he said softly, "No, I can go back and sleep in my own room. I'm fourteen, not four, remember?"

"Very well. Take this with you," Severus handed him the vial of Dreamless Sleep. He was running low on it and would need to brew some more, he had a feeling Harry was going to need it over the next few days. He made a mental note to turn the clock back once more, for he knew that Harry and Draco would need time to adjust to each other and to mend from their respective past traumas.

Harry took the vial, drawing away from the Potions Master.

To his surprise, Severus accompanied him back to his room and stayed there until he had drank the potion, explaining that it would send him to sleep almost immediately, and he should wake feeling refreshed.

The Dreamless Sleep Potion tasted like warm milk and honey and lavender all mixed together, and as soon as the last drop had hit his tongue, Harry's eyes closed. He sagged in a boneless heap and Severus gently tucked his son into bed, brushed the hair away from his forehead, and whispered tenderly, "Good night, child."

He waited a moment more, watching his son sleep, his face so innocent and childlike in repose. This is what should have been, all those years ago. I cannot change the past, but I can give you what you should have had long ago-a home, a family, and my love and protection. That much I can do.

Then he turned off the lamp and left, going next to his godson's room to check up on him. He found Draco sound asleep, snoring softly. Severus gently rearranged the boy's legs and arms, for he was sprawled half off the bed, and tucked the blankets about him. Draco never stirred.

Two orphan storm birds, both seeking shelter in your arms, Severus, his conscience whispered. Can you provide them with the safe haven, love, discipline, and understanding they need?

Yes. I will try my best, his heart answered, and that would have to be enough. Too many adults had failed to provide the boys with those basic things, but the Potions Master vowed he would not do the same. Severus Snape was many things, but he was a man of his word always.

Then he departed to his own room, where he slept deeply until the sun rose.