Harry found Smidgen curled up on the window ledge overlooking the garden in the kitchen. The window was over the sink, so you could see an interesting view while you scrubbed the dishes, Harry thought with a wry grin. Ironically, the view of the herb garden and the orchard sometimes made him linger over that particular chore, especially when he had been stuck inside all day doing chores.

The ebony shimmerling was stretched out on the small window sill, basking serenely in the morning sunshine. The sun's rays striking Smidgen's wings caused them to shimmer iridescently in beautiful violet and turquoise patterns, hence the name of her kind. Even the midnight fur glistened with small iridescent specks, and Harry gazed at her admiringly.

Beyond her he spotted Severus outside, watering the garden using a Watering Charm, crystal clear water poured in a steady stream from the tip of his wand as he carefully wet the soil around all the herbs. For this chore, the Potions Master was dressed very casually, in a pair of faded pants and a short sleeved shirt wearing old scuffed shoes that nearly reminded Harry of a pair of garden shoes. Then he squinted hard, coming closer to the window, and saw that they were a pair of garden shoes, black rubber ones designed to leave almost no marks in fresh soil and able to get wet and not become damaged.

Only you, Dad, would be up at six-thirty during the summer to water your herb garden, his son thought, shaking his head. Don't you know the meaning of the word holiday? Apparently not, since Harry had come to the manor, he had never known the man to sleep late, he was always awake before either of his sons, despite going to bed later. Then again, he supposed Severus's industriousness regarding the garden made sense, since most of the herbs growing in it were used in potions, and this time of the morning was cool, and not boiling hot the way it was in the afternoon.

"Okay, I guess. I . . .uh . . .did some thinking last night, Smidgen, and I . . .umm . . .decided that I want you to try and help me. I'm sick of being afraid to go to sleep at night unless I take a potion. I want to be free of these damn dreams."

:Understandable. From what your father told me, your dreams are causing you a great deal of stress and anxiety and making you ill as a result.:

Harry felt himself blush a brilliant scarlet. "Uh, yeah. I get these anxiety attacks after them and I can't breathe right and I usually end up puking all over once I get my breath back. Dad says it's stress related."

:Mmm . . .that's part of the problem. Your humors are out of balance, young wizard.: She padded lightly across the counter and jumped onto Harry's arm then walked up it to his shoulder and sat down, wrapping her tail neatly about her paws. :Why don't we find a place to relax and then I must ask you to please describe these dreams that are making you so ill.:

"All right." Harry considered, wondering what place was the most private and comfortable and was not his bedroom or the den. At last he chose the library, it had a very comfy couch in it that he had fallen asleep on more than once while reading a book.

He headed down the west wing to the library, Smidgen perched upon his shoulder like an odd sort of angel. He entered the library, which lit immediately with a soft Lumos spell upon his entrance, and settled down on the comfy blue suede couch in the corner. "Uh, this is one of my favorite spots to relax," he told the shimmerling, who hopped off his shoulder and came to sit upon his chest, her violet eyes peering directly into his own.

:I can see that in your mind, child. Forgive me, but your mind is very open and it is hard for a sensitive such as myself to block out all the images you're sending to me. I'm surprised your father hasn't taught you how to shield.:

"Uh . . .he's going to, but he's been busy making potions and hasn't had time." Harry explained. Then he asked, not beating around the bush, "What do you want to know about my nightmares?"

Harry paused for a long minute or two then began, haltingly, to tell the shimmerling of his reoccurring nightmares. The fae cat listened intently, picking up more than he knew from his mind, for his words were accompanied by a ceaseless flow of images as he recalled the terror that stalked him. It took him the better part of an hour to tell the whole saga of dreams and his reactions to them, from the Dursleys to the disastrous night he had drunk summerdew and to the final episode, where he had ended up sobbing hysterically in his father's arms for what had seemed like forever.

When Harry had finished, the shimmerling was quiet for a long time, considering how best to resolve the problem the apprentice wizard presented. At last she spoke. :From the images revealed in that last dream, it would appear that you have certain issues in your past that need to be resolved, young Harry. Thus I must enter your mind and walk you back to the first time you ever had this dementor dream, and then follow the thread back to a past event, for the dream you are experiencing over and over has its roots in a past memory, one that your mind is attempting to hide from.:

"A past memory? Like what?"

:It can be many things, that is one thing which I intend to discover. From what you have said, the fear caused by this dream probably has its origins in many memories, not just one. In order for you to overcome this nightmare for good, you must walk with me back into those memories and confront the thing you fear most in all of them. It may take several sessions, young wizard, I don't wish to overwhelm you, and sometimes slow and stealthy is better than rushing about like a kitten on her first hunt. Only by understanding the fears of the past will you understand the fears of the present.:

Harry nodded. "How long would a session take, Smidgen?"

:I cannot answer that accurately, it depends on the individual memory. But I would say no longer than two hours and no less that twenty minutes.:

"Oh. Then I won't have time for one before breakfast."

:No, and I wouldn't suggest you begin a session on an empty stomach either. It's not healthy. So go and eat and then return here if your father permits it afterwards. I will be waiting.: Then she stretched out on the arm of the couch, reminding Harry of the Sphinx, all wisdom and mystery and ancient magic.

So Harry went to eat breakfast with his father and Draco, whom he was slowly starting to think of as his brother-a very annoying pain-in-the-arse one that sometimes he longed to pop in the teeth-but a family member, nonetheless. It was an odd sensation, having a family around him that actually cared-at least Severus cared, and he thought Draco was beginning to-about him. It was a relief to know that there was someone looking out for him, that he didn't have to be afraid of, or that he could go to for advice, and who supported him. It was what he had always dreamed of, back in the days when he was locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, a family he could love and who loved him in return. For he was growing to love Severus. Draco . . .did he love Draco as a brother? Well, not quite, but it was getting there.

After breakfast, Harry informed Severus that Smidgen was going to try and help him overcome his nightmares and he needed to go with her and begin a session with her that morning. "Very well, Harry. Go and let Smidgen read you or whatever she calls it." Severus agreed, relieved that his son had agreed to getting help for his problem.

Of course, Draco started to protest indignantly about being left to do all the chores by himself, until Harry promised he would do double chores tomorrow to make up for it, and Draco stopped grumbling and agreed reluctantly.

Harry obeyed, looking Smidgen directly in the eyes and feeling a strange sleepy lassitude sweep over him. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, they wanted to close badly. He continued to breathe, in and out, like he would do for meditation, centering himself.

:Don't fight me, child. Go to sleep, Harry Albus Snape.: the shimmerling urged soundlessly. :Fear not, nothing shall harm you as long as I am with you, a dreamweaver rules in the Realm of Sleep. I have done this before, thousands of times, I am no novice, little one, I have been a full dreamweaver for five centuries, give or take a decade. Now close your eyes and let sleep surround you.:

Harry obeyed, there was no way he could have refused the shimmerling's soothing presence, and he really was tired, he needed to rest. He fell asleep soon after she had stopped speaking, and Smidgen purred in satisfaction and sent her conscious self forward, slipping into the boy wizard's mind as easily as a mermaid through the waves.

The dreamweaver stood in the middle of a manicured lawn, in front of a house with a white picket fence and an owl on the mailbox. She glanced curiously about her, this was one of the constructs Harry's mind had brought him to, she knew this was a kind of neutral ground.

But she needed to call up the nightmare he had been having, so she could walk through it and see if there was any way to remove it entirely from Harry's mind. She hissed softly and began summoning in her own language, that of the Seelie Court, one that had long been forgotten by humans.

The nightmare oozed towards her, drawn from the realm of Harry's subconscious, like a deep boil it spread through his psyche in response to her call. The amorphus black blob suddenly cracked open and Smidgen was able to use her dreamweaver talent to slip inside the nightmare.

The shimmerling's paws were standing on a cold patch of ground, it was pitch black and fog was rolling in, and then she felt and saw Harry appear, wand in hand, running about the lake. On the far side was a limp form of another wizard, someone Harry cared for very much. But he failed to reach the other man-instead he was surrounded by dementors and they all swarmed and attacked him.

She could feel Harry's panic, it crashed against her shields like a wave of pure force, but she was no mere novice, and she blocked the terror and came to stand before him and his tormentors. She seemed to swell and glow, growing in an instant to twenty times her size, for in the Realm of Dreams she could become larger or smaller as she willed. :Halt!: she hissed in warning, and the clot of dementors froze. :Who are you that you dare to trouble one under MY protection?:

Four dark figures glided forward, until they stood in a semi-circle around her and Harry. One by one, they cast off their hoods, revealing the four faces of those Harry feared the most-Voldemort, Vernon, James, and Dudley. She sensed that the fear was mingled with shame and guilt, with the guilt and shame primarily reserved for the last two figures and the fear was greatest for the first two.

The one with the visage of a twisted half-man and half-serpent spoke first. "Who are you who dares come between me and my lawful prey?"

Smidgen arched her back and laid her ears flat, hissing in fury. :You have no lawful prey here, for you exist only upon a whim, created by fear and loathing and given form here. I am the dreamweaver, and I shall banish you back to the ether from whence you came, when it is time. Until then, be still! You rule nothing here, Dark One, here is MY realm!:

"You LIE!" screamed the Voldemort dementor. "I am the Dark Lord, and all shall tremble when they hear my name! I am come back from the dead to finish what I began, and kill the child who defied me that night. Now step aside, cat thing, before I teach you the meaning of death!" he pointed his wand at Smidgen's heart.

Harry cried out, yelling at the Voldemort dementor, "No! Leave her alone! No more shall die for me! No more!"

:As I said before, you do not rule here. I shall deal with you anon. For now, let us see where the thread of memory for this one takes us.: She stalked back over to where the Dudley dementor waited, caught like a fly in amber by her will.

:Harry!: she called. :Come, they cannot hurt you. Follow me, as I trace this thread of memory back and see what is it that haunts you so, child. Come.:

Harry hesitated, then climbed to his feet. He walked towards Smidgen, who purred comfortingly at him and waited until he had reached her side and placed a hand upon her shoulder, she was now almost as tall as he was, before reaching out and tweaking the silver strand of memory that was attached to the Dudley construct and following it back into Harry's subconscious.

One instant they were standing within the circle of frozen dementors and the next they were back on number 4 Privet Drive, in the front yard, where a six-year-old Harry was watering the flowerbeds while Dudley laughed and pushed him into the wet dirt, making Harry get covered in mud.

"Haha! Harry's all wet and muddy! Harry's all wet and muddy! You're gonna be in trouble when my mum or daddy sees you! Just wait! Dad's gonna tan your hide again, you four-eyed freak!"

Harry picked himself up from the soggy ground, trying unsuccessfully to brush the mud off himself. "Why'd you do that, Dudley? I didn't do anything to you!"

The plump boy shrugged. "Felt like it. There's nothing to do around here."

"So? Why don't you go and play your new video game system?" Harry suggested.

"Oh." Harry's face fell, for he hadn't had a turn at all, not even once. "Can-can I have a turn, Dudley?"

"No! Daddy says freaks like you aren't allowed near expensive toys like that. You might break them or cause them to blow up."

"I won't! I promise."

"No! It's my video game system and I get to say who plays with it! And you can't!" Dudley said meanly, smirking.

"But why?"

"Cause you're a freaky creepy brat and you shouldn't even be in this family, that's why!"

"I am NOT!" Harry shouted, feeling his throat go hot with tears.

"Are TOO! Daddy says so, and he knows everything! He said you're nothing but a charity case and you ought to be grateful you've got a roof over your head and food."

Harry glared at his cousin. "Oh yeah? Grateful to be living in a cupboard, eating scraps from the table? What kind of life is that?"

"It's what you deserve!" Then Dudley knocked him back into the flowerbed and ran into the house, yelling that Harry had smashed all of Petunia's prizewinning hydrangeas flat.

"You see?" the older Harry said softly. "They never wanted me. I was the freak, the charity case, they never loved me, only Dudley."

More memories followed, as the shimmerling touched the skein of threads spinning off from that one, and saw Dudley's third birthday party, where he and all his friends got to play party games and stuff themselves with cake and ice cream while Harry was locked in his cupboard, only able to hear the laughter and fun through the tiny door, and afterwards was let out to clean up the huge mess the kids had made and given only a crust of stale bread and water for supper. . . .Then there was the Christmas Harry had told Draco about, where Dudley got fifty-five presents and all Harry got was a switch . . .Dudley and his friends chasing Harry through the park, playing Harry Hunting. "Run away, little freak! Run, before we smash you!" . . .Dudley screaming as the glass on the python's cage vanished and he fell inside the habitat . . .Dudley shaking and squealing as Hagrid gave him a pig's tail, and Harry giggling behind his hand . . .Dudley getting his ear grabbed good and hard by Severus and made to apologize to his mother . . .and last Dudley glaring at Harry with accusing eyes and yelling, "It's all YOUR fault, you're the reason they killed my dad!"

:Stop!: Smidgen meowed and the hateful image froze. She turned to Harry. :Child, this memory is false. It never happened. But your subconscious created it because of the guilt you felt over your uncle's death. Why would you feel guilty over that evil one's death, Harry? He did much to hurt you, a defenseless child under his care. You were not even there when he died. So why should you bear any guilt towards his demise?:

"Because . . .Death Eaters killed him . . .they never would have done it if it weren't for me . . .they were looking for me and they found him instead." Harry explained haltingly. "I'm not really sorry the fat bastard's dead, only sorry that Dudley's without a father now."

:Oh? And why would you feel sympathy towards the boy who bullied and tormented you for half your life?:

Harry considered. Why did he feel sorry for Dudley? He pondered for a long time then finally said, "Because even my cousin, rotten spoiled brat that he is, doesn't deserve to be without a father, like I was until . . ."

:You have a compassionate heart, young Snape. It is both blessing and curse, I'm afraid. Listen to me now. Your uncle's death was upon his own head, you were not responsible for it. Was it your choice to kill him? Was it you who held the wand that cursed him to death?:

"No. But . . ."

:No, it was not. Why then do you feel guilt? It serves no purpose. Does your cousin feel guilty that you lived for half your life thinking you were an orphan with relatives who hated you?:

"I . . .I guess not."

:Then neither should you, child. The one who bears the responsibility and guilt for your uncle's death is the wizard holding the wand. Not you, Harry.: the shimmerling said firmly. :Dudley lost his father through a premeditated act of vengeance, not through any doing of yours. That is what you must acknowledge. That is what you must accept. You are not responsible for the choices others make, only your own. You have no reason to feel guilty. Do you understand?:

"I . . .yes . . ."

:You doubt me still. You may sympathize all you like with your cousin, but do not place the burden of guilt upon yourself. It was NOT your fault.: the dreamweaver intoned, then spun out a thread of her own. :See what was, Harry Snape. Look through my eyes at the past and see the truth.:

Then she created a quick facsimile of what the attack on Vernon must have looked like, allowing Harry to see with his own eyes the curse that struck down his uncle, cast by a wizard wearing an iron mask. :He is the guilty one, it is he who has spilled blood, not you. Now let your guilt go. Let it go.:

Harry heaved a sigh. "Okay. I-I will."

:Good. The guilt is no longer smothering you. But something else your cousin has said has hurt you deeply. Care to guess what that is?:

"That I'm a freak?"

Smidgen shook her head. :What did you long for most, then and now?:

"I . . . a family."

:And your cousin made you think you didn't deserve one. But he lied, Harry. Like most jealous children. You deserve what all little children do-love, shelter, and a family of your own. You are not unworthy. You have many who love you, child.:

Harry gazed once more into the shimmerling's violet eyes. This time he saw familiar faces-Lily, Severus, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Hagrid, Remus, even Draco and Aunt Petunia were there. And all of them were looking at him with love. :Do you see? If you were unworthy, child, why would they love you? For they do, Harry. They are your family, the family you have always wanted. And so long as you love them, you will never lose them. Do you love them?:

"Yes . . .I do . . .even . . .even Aunt Petunia," he managed at last, and discovered it was true. "Even Draco, arrogant brat that he is."

Smidgen's eyes gleamed in approval. :That is well. For love will sustain you when things are at their darkest pass. Let the love you feel fill your soul, young one. Can you feel it?:

Harry nodded, for he did feel a tremendous outpouring of love flowing from all those he had seen in the shimmerling's mind. The feeling wrapped about him, coccooning him in a cloak of warmth and light, chasing away the shadows and despair. He was loved. He was not alone. These were his family, and they loved him best.

:Turn then and face your cousin,: ordered Smidgen.

Harry turned around, and found himself back inside the circle of shadowy dementors, facing the Dudley one. Smidgen hissed and the Dudley dementor was freed from her control.

It advanced on Harry, waving its arms and shouting, "It's your fault he's dead, Harry! You killed my father!"

But this time, Harry did not back down. This time he stood his ground, the shimmerling beside him, and said firmly, "No. You're wrong. Your father died, but it was not my fault. Blame the wizard with the wand, not me."

Then he lunged at his cousin and knocked him sprawling . . .right into a very large puddle of mud and manure. The bigger boy floundered, coughing and sputtering, squirming and flopping like a fish in the smelly muck, unable to get out.

Dudley looked up at him in astonishment. "Huh? How?"

"Now we're even, Big D." Harry told it, then watched it vanish into the mist.

And for the first time since he had learned of his uncle's death, Harry felt the mountain of guilt he bore crumble and disappear. He was free at last.

The shimmerling blinked across the thread that led back to Harry's conscious self, waking him from his self-induced trance.

* * * * * *

Smidgen shook herself and eyed him. :You need a bite to eat and a bath and a good night's sleep.:

Harry nodded blearily. "Why do I feel so tired, Smidgen? All I did was go places in my mind with you."

:All, young one? Traveling the Realm of Dreams is not easy, especially since this was your first time. Facing the reality of your past and the truth of the present is even harder. But you did well. You vanquished your guilt. Now the hole in your heart can begin to mend. Remember what I told you, Harry Snape. You have family now, by blood and by choice, and they love you. So long as you love them, you will never lose them. Know this for truth, for I cannot lie. All shimmerlings are under geas to speak only the truth, as the Queen's messengers.:

Harry felt a warm glow inside of him at the fae cat's words. And in spite of his exhaustion he smiled, a smile of gratitude and delight, the carefree smile of a child who knows irrevocably and completely that he is loved.

Smidgen jumped to his shoulder, rubbing her fur against him in a gentle caress. :Come, child. Your father and brother are waiting supper on us, I believe. Tomorrow or the next day we shall confront another of your . . .dementors . . .I think you call them? But for now, I am starving and so are you, so let us eat.:

"That sounds like a great idea," Harry said, and his stomach rumbled in agreement.

* * * * * *

That night Harry slept without the aid of the Dreamless Sleep, as per Smidgen's instructions. :He must learn to trust himself, and to fall asleep naturally, Wizard Severus. Fear not, I shall watch over his dreams, and if he begins to experience a nightmare, I shall banish it.: promised the shimmerling.

Severus agreed reluctantly, but the fae cat was as good as her word, remaining watchful and alert all the while Harry slept, monitoring his dreaming state. Only once did the nightmare of the dementors threaten, and then Smidgen slipped into Harry's mind and banished it with a sharp flick of her tail and the power of her presence. She quickly wove a small net of peacefulness about her slumbering charge and then withdrew, satisfied he would sleep soundly until dawn.

* * * * * *

Smidgen waited three days before starting another session, for despite the seeming ease with which she had dealt with the constructs of Harry's nightmare, using her dreamweaving that way had exhausted her more than she wished to admit. She still was not fully recovered from the lurk's attack, and walking the Realm of Dreams and helping the boy confront the darkness in his past was very draining. So she rested and ate for three days, allowing her body to mend and her powers to replenish themselves. At five and a half centuries, she knew how to monitor her own health, and knew also not to be foolish and endanger herself or her charge by pushing herself beyond her own strength.

Then too, she knew that Harry needed some time to come to terms with the revelations he had experienced, and this next session was likely going to be worse than the last one. She had deliberately started with the least of the dementors that were tormenting Harry, knowing he would need time to work up to the Vernon and Voldemort ones. Start slow and work your way up was an old maxim of hers, and in this case, it was also a wise decision.

This time, Smidgen waited until the night to begin the session, allowing Harry some more time with his family before calling him into the library again. The library was the ideal place for such sessions, it was comfortable and neutral territory, and the other two residents of the manor had agreed not to interrupt them until the session was over. She had asked Severus to provide a Calming Draft this time around, figuring that Harry would need it afterwards, since this confrontation would be more stressful than the last.

The Potions Master had raised an eyebrow, but provided what she needed without comment. He also resolved to wait until Harry was finished before going to bed, so he could check on his son and make sure he was all right, and be there to lend an ear if Harry felt like talking. Aware that said session could take several hours, he settled down with a book and began to read in the den.

In the library, Smidgen and Harry were once more ensconced upon the sofa and once more the fae cat told the young apprentice to breathe in and out several times and sent him to sleep with her gaze. Then she set her paws upon the misty road and entered Harry's mind.

* * * * * *

The dementor that had grabbed him threw back its hood, revealing the handsome face of James Potter. "You betrayed me, Harry!" he accused, his face dark with anger and disappointment and an unnatural hunger. "You chose Snape over me! And now you must be punished!"

The James dementor opened his mouth wide, revealing row after row of horrid sharp fangs, but before it could do anything more, Smidgen intervened.

"No? All his life, he thought I was his father. He looked like me, inherited my fortune, hell, he even played the same position in Quidditch. Everything was just fine until the greasy bat of the dungeons showed up and revealed that my boy was actually none other than the spawn of Snivellus Snape!" James sneered. "Skinny, sneaky, sly Snivellus, who always had his hair in his eyes and his nose in a book. Ugh! And once he discovered that, suddenly I wasn't good enough any more. Now I was his cousin, and the snarky git was Dad. He betrayed me, cat! He chose that Slytherin over me!"

:As is his right, James Potter. He needs a living father, not a dead hero. He needs the warmth and love a family, not the chill of the cemetery. Severus gives him all he needs or wants, there is no need for resentment.:

"No need? No need to resent the fact that Snivellus stole my son from me?"

:Indeed, for Harry was never your son. He was and always has been, a Snape.:

Before the man could protest again, Smidgen hissed him into silence, went to Harry, who was still shivering and shaking in the throes of mortal terror, though he had heard every word they had spoken, and urged him to place a hand on her shoulder. :Come, child. Let us follow this thread back, to one of your oldest memories, one that is very dim but there nonetheless.:

Harry gripped Smidgen's fur as if it were a lifeline, and followed the shimmerling back to a memory when he was thirteen months old.

* * * * * *

"Look, Lily! Look at us, we're flying!" shouted James, as he held baby Harry before him on his broom. They were barely seven feet up in the air, but James acted as if it were thirty and Harry was smiling and laughing, holding onto the broomstick.

"He's a natural, Lily! A chip off the old block. Bet he'll be Captain of the Quidditch team once he goes to Hogwarts, eh? Just like your dad, right, Harry?"

They flew in lazy circles, while an indulgent Lily watched from below, until Harry grew bored after fifteen minutes and started whining. "Down, Dada! Down!"

"Okay, Mr. Bossy. Down it is." James landed the broom expertly, picking up Harry and handing him to Lily. "Guess he's had enough for one day. And besides, I think he's wet."

Lily just rolled her eyes. "You know, James, it wouldn't kill you to change a nappy every once in awhile."

"Lil, you know I hate it, I wish they would just invent a spell for it," her husband grumbled. He usually managed to avoid changing his son, foisting the chore off on Lily or some other unsuspecting relative or friend who just happened to be watching his son.

Lily shook her head, disgusted with her husband's attitude. "What, you only get to do the fun stuff, while I get all the work, James Potter?"

"Now, Lil, you're exaggerating."

"Am I? James I can count on both hands the times you've actually changed him without being forced to because you're home alone or badgered into it. You used to cut up the most disgusting potion ingredients at school and yet you can't change a nappy. Unbelievable!"

James flashed her an annoyed look. "So? That was different. Taking care of children's a woman's job. Or a house elf's, except you won't let us have one."

Lily glared at him. "We're in hiding, you stupid . . .You know, James, with your arrogant chauvinist attitude, sometimes I wonder why I married you. Because now I've got two kids to raise!"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? You would have rather married Snape? That greasy scummy git?"

"Severus wasn't a git!" Lily cried. "You're only saying that because of your stupid schoolboy rivalry. He was smart and thoughtful and if I'd . . ." she trailed off.

"What? If you'd what? If you'd married him your life would be perfect?" James sneered. "Yeah, I can just see Snivellus taking care of a baby. You'd be living in some second-rate shack just barely making ends meet."

"You're wrong, James! Severus was a brilliant potion maker, and he would have provided for us decently. You never knew him, his family meant everything to him." Harry, sensing the angry undercurrents, began to whimper uneasily.

"Oh, and it doesn't to me? You think I don't love my son just because I refuse to change a few nappies?"

"James, there's more to being a father than just playing and dressing him," Lily began wearily. "Or buying him the latest toy Snitch. He barely sees you, you're always away, fighting the bloody Death Eaters or bloody You-Know-Who!"

"Well, excuse me for doing my job, Lily! Sorry I'm not a deadbeat like your previous fiancee! Who turned out to be pond slime!"

"No! You're wrong. He . . .he might have made mistakes, but Severus wasn't how you think. You never knew him, James."

"We went to school together, Lily. I knew what he was from day one. Scum and I'm glad he's dead. Don't try and defend him to me, because he never did anything good in his life. I gave you a son, what did he ever give you? Nothing but misery!"

Just then, Harry began to cry and Lily turned and walked away, hushing and rocking her son, bitter tears in her eyes. "That's where you're wrong, Potter," she whispered.

Then the scene vanished and Harry and Smidgen were standing once again back within the circle by the lake.

Before Smidgen could move, Harry had marched up to the James dementor and snapped, "You weren't such a brilliant father after all, and I'm through with feeling guilty that I chose to let Severus into my life. I'm HIS son and he loves me, I never betrayed you. Accepting Severus as my dad isn't betrayal, it's the truth. And you know what, James? I'm glad he's my dad. Glad!"

The James dementor gave a sudden howl and vanished and so did a bunch of others, until all that was left facing Harry were two shadows, Vernon and Voldemort.

Harry stepped forward to confront his beastly uncle, but Smidgen barred the way. :Another time, Harry. Come, child. It is time to go back.:

Then a familiar mist swirled about the two and the lakeside vanished.

* * * * * *

This time when Harry returned to the world he found himself with a splitting headache and the urge to suddenly start crying and never stop. He couldn't understand it, he had been angry when he had left James in the dreamscape, yet now he felt sorrow, sorrow and regret for what could have been, he realized. Sorrow that Severus had missed out on much of his early childhood and regret for putting James on a pedestal and imagining him into this perfect hero, when he was just a man. A flawed mortal, like the rest of them. So he need no longer feel guilty about accepting Severus as his father, he had not taken anything away from James.

He put his head in his hands, trying to ease the throbbing and stifle the sudden tears that prickled his eyes.

:Harry, drink this.: he heard Smidgen's voice, through a hazy humming in the back of his head. :It's a Calming Draft, your father left it for you. Drink, it will help.:

Harry lifted his head, locating the glass beaker with the familiar fizzy potion and sipping it. Immediately he felt the throbbing headache recede and the sudden need to cry was muted. "Thank you, Smidgen," he murmured wearily. He also felt a kind of drowsy lassitude and he yawned. "Guess I better go to sleep. On second thought, I'm sort of hungry, maybe I'll get a cup of tea and a scone. Would you like some too?"

The shimmerling climbed to his shoulder and together they exited the library and headed towards the kitchen. As they crossed into the den, Harry saw his father reading in his recliner. "Interesting book, Dad?"

Severus set the book down and looked up at his son in concern. "How are you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. The Calming Draft made him feel all pleasant and sleepy, very zen and relaxed, so to speak. "I'm okay. I was just going to make a cup of tea. Do you want some?"

"Yes, thank you." He eyed his son sharply, then said, "I assume you took the Calming Draft I left for you?"

"Uh huh," Harry answered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He pushed his glasses back on his face after and discovered that Smidgen had jumped off his shoulder and onto Severus's recliner in the meantime. Probably wants to brief Dad about how the session went. I think it went okay.

Then he went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea, he chose tropical orange essence this time, it was both soothing and flavorful. He went and got two scones, blueberry ones, from the icebox and put them on two plates, breaking off a corner of his own for the shimmerling and crumbling it in a tiny dish Severus had shrunk to Smidgen's size.

When the tea was done and he had fixed it just the way he and Severus liked it, Smidgen liked it however he fixed it, he poured it in two mugs and Smidgen's mini saucer, then levitated them all into the den. "Your tea, sir, my lady," he said whimsically, pretending he was some snooty butler, like one the Malfoys would have had if they'd been Muggles.

Smidgen walked lightly down the recliner and sniffed appreciatively. :Ah, you are too kind, young Snape. Tropical orange, delightful!: She began to lap the tea delicately.

Harry floated a cup of tea and a scone over to his father, who took it and thanked him. For several minutes there was silence, broken only by the three eating and drinking. But when their stomachs were sated at last, Severus set his tea cup down on the end table and looked at Harry and asked, "Smidgen informed me you faced James tonight. Would you like to discuss anything with me about what he said?"

Harry toyed with the remaining bits of scone upon his plate, crumbling them to bits before he recalled something James had said in his memory to Lily that had puzzled him. "Dad? There is something I wanted to ask you."

"Ask then," encouraged the older wizard.

Harry took a deep breath. "In my memories, James and Mum were having an argument, and your name came up and James said he was glad you were dead."

"That would be typical of him. We never really got along, Harry."

"Yeah, but I was over a year in this memory and weren't you back spying on the Death Eaters by then? So why would James and Mum think you were still dead?"

"Because for them, I was. You see, only Dumbledore knew of my true purpose, only he and Lucius and the Dark Lord ever knew I had ‘come back from the dead" at that time. I wanted the rest of the world to believe I was dead, so I spent much of my time hiding at Malfoy Manor, ostensibly lying low, but in actuality gathering vital information for the Order each time I spoke with Lucius and his dark master. It was while I was there that I allowed Lucius to "persuade" me to take the brand and give myself over fully to the Dark Lord." He rubbed absently at the mark on his arm, which was not visible now. "A month afterwards, Voldemort learned of Trelawney's ability as a Seer and wanted to capture her to see if she could foretell his victory. He sent me to persuade her to come with us, and that was how I ended up learning about the prophecy."

"What prophecy?"

"The prophecy that says a savior will be born to defeat Voldemort once and for all," Severus answered heavily.

Harry just stared. "Is that why Dumbledore thinks I'm a hero?"

"Yes, though he is foolish for thinking so. I put no stock in Seers, they predict wrong as much as right."

"I didn't think Trelawney could predict at all."

"Neither did she. But I guess every Seer predicts true once."

"What happened to her? You didn't . . .uh, kidnap her, right?"

"Of course not! I told Lucius that Dumbledore was guarding her and I couldn't fight him again, but I did offer fragments of the prophecy as a distraction. Dumbledore figured the fragments would be enough to convince them that they didn't need Trelawney and keep them busy trying to figure it out, as well as spare me some of Voldemort's wrath for not completing my assignment."

"Did he . . .hurt you, Dad?" Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. He had a feeling Severus had endured more than he knew in his role as a spy.

Severus did not answer for a long moment. "Not really. The fragments pacified him somewhat." He recalled that the evil wizard had not used the Cruciatus Curse all that long on him, but he refused to tell Harry that. Instead he said, his voice laced with regret, "I never thought Voldemort would act upon them, a partial prophecy is impossible to decipher, but he was mad and he thought it pointed at you and so he went to find you. But his search proved fruitless, since your house was under the Fidelius Charm. Until Pettigrew betrayed your mother and his best friend. Then Voldemort found you and . . .you know what happened then."

Harry nodded. Yes, he knew all too well what had happened that Halloween night. "I wish . . ." he halted then said in a voice so low that Severus barely caught it. " . . .you could have saved her, Dad."

"Harry, that is one of the worst regrets of my life. It was the one time I ever failed to protect someone and I still haven't forgiven myself for it."

:You ought to try, Wizard Severus. Your soul is wounded and hurting from your stubbornness.: Smidgen advised.

Severus shook his head. "My beloved died because I couldn't react in time."

Snape did not respond, and Harry said suddenly, "Mum would have forgiven you, Dad."

Severus gave him a faint smile. "Yes, she would have."

Then Harry did something totally unexpected. He got up from the end of the couch, walked over to his father and hugged him. "I forgive you too," he whispered in the startled Potion Master's ear.

Awkwardly, Severus hugged him back. He wished he could tell Harry thank you, but the words wouldn't come, so he settled for hugging his compassionate son an extra long time before letting him go. How ironic, Sev, he thought wryly as he embraced his child. You stayed here to comfort him after his ordeal and instead he ends up comforting you. Will wonders never cease?

On the back of the recliner, the shimmerling purred in satisfaction. An important lesson had been learned here, and she hoped it would sustain the both of them once they left the safety of the manor for the dangerous World Beyond.